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 1 
 
 2 
 
 1 
 3 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
SERMONS 
 
 a 
 


 \ 
 
I 
 
SERMONS 
 
 PREACHED IN TORONTO: 
 
 lOK TIIF. MOST PART 
 
 IN THE CHAPEL OF TRINITY COLLEGE. 
 
 itv 
 
 GEORGE WHITAKER, M.A., 
 
 KIXTOK OF M;\VI()\ Ti'NKV, WILTS : 
 
 FORMERLY PROVOST f)K TKIMTV COI.I.KCIE, TORONTO, AND A Rl IIUEACON 
 OK YORK, tN TlIK DIOCESE OF TORONTO. 
 
 Published by Request. 
 
 LONDON: RIVINGTONS 
 TORONTO: WILLING AND WILLIAMSON 
 
 MUCCCLXXXIl 
 
'•-^•■"- -.•IXilVFPSnvLI.SRA,':." 
 
TO Tiiosi; 3n:.Miw:ii.-> 
 
 Of Tilt IMVI-nsriY OF TKIMTY tOI.!.E(;E, TOUONTO, 
 
 WHO HAVE 1£E(JLE.STED THE ILIIUCATIOX 
 
 OF THESE JsEKMON!?, 
 
 THE VOUilE IS NOW IXSCUIBED 
 
 l!Y THE Mun Ei:, 
 
 WITH A MOdT ClItATEFUL UEMEMBKAXCE OF 
 
 THE INTIMaTE KEJ.ATIoXS WHICH HAVE, 
 
 80 LOXG AXD SO HAITILV, 
 «UbSlSTED BETWEEN THEM AND HIMSELF. 
 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 O' the following Sermons, Sermons I., XIII., XIV XV 
 
 -^^ I., XVII., XVIII., XIX., XXI and XVTI ' 
 
 ' -v.vi., ana XXII. were speciallv 
 
I 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 
 SERMON I. 
 Our ?tarli'iS Cljotcc of tijc Ctocl&c. 
 
 PAGK 
 
 " And thry strai<jhtimy left their nets, and followed Ilim"- 
 
 S. Matthew iv. 20 1 
 
 SEinrON II. 
 
 rijc UXiUxcii to t\)t Bxfant €\)xiit. 
 
 " But Mary heptall these things, and pondered them in her heart." 
 — S. Like ii. 19 
 
 SERMOX III. 
 rijr (5nin nf Irabiitg ^11 for CljrtiSt. 
 
 '• Brhohl we have fnrsahen oil, and followed Thee ; tchat shall we 
 have therefore-?"— a. MxmiEVf \ix. 27 ... 
 
 SERMOX IV. 
 
 ''And He that sat upon the throne mid. Behold, I make all things 
 7ir?r."— Revelatiox xxi. 5 
 
 SERMON V. 
 Clj.intn tJjc (SrcntriSt. 
 
 " And now ahidrth faith, hope, charity, these thre,: ; hut the greatest 
 of these is charity."—! Cohintiiians xiii. 13 ... ' 
 
 14 
 
 27 
 
 42 
 
 53 
 
ir 
 
 X 
 
 CONTEXTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 
 " But he seemed as one that moehed unto his nous-in-law." — 
 
 Genesis xix. 14 ... ... ... ... ... G4 
 
 SERMON VII. 
 
 Cljr 3BirtIjris!)t mm ti)c JSlriSsiiTg. 
 
 " Ye hwic how that aftenrard, when he wnuhl have inherited the 
 blessing, he teas rejceted ; for he found no place of repentance, 
 though he sought it carefully icith tears." — Hebrews 
 
 xii. 17 
 
 79 
 
 SERMON VIII. 
 EtUing unta €I)rist. 
 
 " For the love of Christ consfraineth ns ; heeause ire thus judge, theit 
 if one diid for all, then vere all dead: and that He died for 
 all, that iheij which lice should not henceforth live unto them- 
 selves, hut unto Ilini which died for them, and rose again." — 
 2 COBINTIIIAXS V. 11, 15 
 
 SERMON IX. 
 rijc <3[l)0li0ljiJig 0f OrntI). 
 " TT7io hath aholished death."— 2 Timothy i. 10 
 
 9G 
 
 109 
 
 SERMON X. 
 (Tljf ji'orrnto at tijc (Trabatlins Cijurdj. 
 
 " And ye note therefore have sorrow : hut 1 icill see yon again, and 
 your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taltth from 
 yoa."— S. John xvi. 22 
 
 SERMON XI. 
 C!)C UJaiin to Came suijjcrtcj to i^au. 
 
 " But iww we see not yd all things put under him. But we see 
 Jesus, who teas made a little lower than the angels, for the 
 
 123 
 
PAOE 
 
 CO.VTENTS. 
 
 suPring of ckath crowned with qhry and honour; that He 
 hy thr grac of God should taste death for ever,, man "— 
 
 Hi:;iiUE\v\s ii. 8,9 
 
 '" ••• ••• 
 
 XI 
 
 PACE 
 
 i;].") 
 
 SERMON XII. 
 CTIjr ?i?0ln ^ptrif^ ^raring. 
 
 " And oriere not tho. JMy Spirit of God, whereby ye are sealed 
 unto the day of redemption:'— Evhksiash iv. oO 
 
 • • ' t • • 
 
 HS 
 
 79 
 
 SERMON XIII. 
 0;c \2ai3itt at tlje €va^^. 
 
 Bat God Mind that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ by whom the world is crucifud unto me, and I 
 
 unto the u-orW."— Galatians vi U 
 
 ••• •<• ... lo'J 
 
 100 
 
 SERMON XIV, 
 Cfjr Our Communi0ii nnts jrcllotusljiji. 
 
 - me^efore seeing ,ce aha are compassed about with so great a 
 doud oj witnesses let ns lay ande every weight, and the sin 
 ^^chdoh so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the 
 race that is set before t<s."-IlEBUEWS xii. 1 
 
 174 
 
 SER^rON XV. 
 CljrtsSt in our i¥imt. 
 
 " Where two or three are gathered together in My name, there am I 
 
 ^nthe midst of them:'~ii. MM-niKWxxiii. 20 iss 
 
 ser:mon XVI. 
 Ojc lirjrcttau of J'.iul. 
 
 " nerause thou hast ujected the word of the Lord, He hath also 
 rejected theejrom being king."- 1 Samull x v. 23 
 
 201 
 
\11 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON XVII. 
 CI)(' ^tn of tijc ^otiiEi of eit. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " Wherefore the sin of the young men rras very great before the 
 Lord : for men abhorred the offering of the Lord'* — 1 Samuel 
 
 il>-if ••« ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ^^O 
 
 SERMON XVIII. 
 
 " The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way 
 of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our 
 God.'* — Isaiah xl. 3 ... ... ... ... 241 
 
 SERMON XIX. 
 ^cU-ControI. 
 
 *' Youug men likewise exhort to be sober -minded." — TiTUS ii. 6 ... 25G 
 
 SERMON XX. 
 
 " Then said Jesus to them again, Peace be unto you : as My Father 
 hcih sent Me, even so send I you. And u'hen He had said 
 this, lie breathed on them, and saith unto them, lieceive ye the 
 Holy Ghost : ichose soever sins ye , emit, they are remitted unto 
 them ; and tchose soever sins ye retain, they are retained." 
 — S. John xx. 21-23 ... ... ... ... ... 270 
 
 »: ■ 
 
 SERMON XXI. 
 E\)t <Suartrtn0 at tl^c 2Jcj|j0iStt. 
 
 " Keep that which is committed to thy trust." — 1 Timothy vi. 20 288 
 
 SERMON XXII. 
 
 CTrinttji Callfflc. 
 
 " Establish Thou the work of our honds upon us ; yea, the icork of 
 
 our hands establish Thou it." — Psalm xc. 17 
 
 ... 306 
 
ore the 
 
 AMl'EL 
 
 PAGE 
 
 223 
 
 le way 
 'or our 
 
 ^ather 
 said 
 
 ye the 
 unto 
 
 led:* 
 
 241 
 
 256 
 
 270 
 
 20 288 
 
 hof 
 
 306 
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 PllEACHED IN TRLVrTY COLLEGE OlI.VPKL. 
 
 For the Festival of S. An'/ror. 
 
 S. Matthew iv. 20.-" And they straightway left tlioir net^ 
 
 and followed Hnn." 
 
 It can hardly fail to occasion us, at first sight, 
 matter of surprise and disappointment that so liUle 
 sliould be known to us of the personal history and 
 cliaracter of those whom our Lord selected as the 
 C(mipanions of His ministry on earth, and as the 
 witnesses of His resurrection after He had been 
 received up into heaven. And this the more when we 
 boar in mind the terms in which He spoke of the 
 ix^nihar importance of the office which the apostles 
 billed, and of the peculiar lionour with which the 
 f^iitliful discharge of its duties should be rewarded 
 '' Vo are they," said He, " whieli liave continued with 
 Me in My temptations. And I appoint unto you a 
 kmgdom, as My Father hath appointed unto Me that 
 yo may eat and drink at My table in My kingdom, 
 ^nid sit on thrones, judging tlie twelve tribes of 
 
 B 
 
OUR LORD'S CHOICE OF THE TWELVE. 
 
 Israel." It cannot surely be because no special honour 
 pertained to " the glorious company of the apostles " 
 — because no special recompense is reserved for them 
 hereafter — that of some of them we know only the 
 name, and are unable, by the help of any recorded 
 word or action, to assign an individuality to him who 
 bore it. 
 
 Of the saint whom we this day commemorate the 
 notices recorded in Holy Scripture are very slight, 
 though he is ever reckoned as one of the four whom 
 some would rejjard as forming: the first of three classes 
 into which they distinguish the twelve, founding this 
 distinction on the fact that, however the sacred writers 
 may otherwise vary their arrangement of the names 
 of the apostles, the several catalogues which they give 
 may be marked off into three divisions of four, con- 
 taining uniformly the same names. Thus S. Andrew, 
 who is placed second in the catalogues of S. Matthew 
 and S. Luke, stands fourth in that of S. Mark, as also 
 in that which is given in the Acts of the Apostles. 
 There are, moreover, two incidents recorded of S. 
 Andrew in the evangelical history which tend to 
 confirm the opinion that he occupied, with his own 
 brother Peter and with the sons of Zebedee, a some- 
 what higher position than that which was given to 
 the rest of our Lord's immediate followers. The first 
 of these is recorded in S. John (xii. 20), when, on the 
 application of certain Gentile proselytes to S. Philip 
 
 
OUR LORD'S CHOICE OF THE TWELVE. 
 
 I honour 
 ipostles " 
 for them 
 3nly the 
 recorded 
 bim who 
 
 orate the 
 jr slight, 
 ur whom 
 ie classes 
 ding this 
 d writers 
 le names 
 liey give 
 ur, con- 
 Andrew, 
 iMatthew 
 , as also 
 postles. 
 led of S. 
 tend to 
 his own 
 a some- 
 Jgiven to 
 ?he first 
 on the 
 Philip 
 
 for admission to the presence of our Lord, we read 
 that " Philip came and told Andrew, and again 
 Andrew and Philip told Jesus." S. Philip uniformly 
 ranks fifth in the catalogues of the apostles, and his 
 reference to S. Andrew on this occasion leads us to 
 conclu that some privilege of more familiar access to 
 our Lord had been conceded to the four elder apostles. 
 Again in S, Mark (xiii. 3) we are told that Peter, and 
 James, and John, and Andrew (here, too, we may notice 
 that the same order of names is observed as in the 
 previous catalogue of the apostles given by this 
 Evangelist) came to our Lord as He sat on the Mount 
 of Olives over against the temple, and asked Him 
 ])rivately concerning the time at which His prediction 
 respecting the destruction of the temple should come 
 to pass. At the same time it appears that Andrew, 
 if superior to the eight, still did not rise to the full 
 privileges of the favoured three. He was not admitted 
 to the chamber when the daughter of Jairus was 
 raised ; he was not present on the Mount of Trans- 
 figuration ; nor summoned to watch with our Lord in 
 His agony in the garden. From S. John (i. 40) we 
 learn that he was one of the tAvo disciples of S. John 
 the Ba})tist, to whom their master pointed out our 
 Lord on His return, after His temptation, to the place 
 where John was baptizing ; and who thereupon fol- 
 lowed Him, who had been declared to tlieui to be 
 " the Lamb of God," and became His discii)les. 
 
OUR LORD'S CHOICE OF THE TWELVE. 
 
 Having thus shared, as it is supposed, with S. John 
 the privilege of tliis first call to discipleship, S. Andrew 
 brings to the presence of the Messiah whom he had 
 found that brother who was subsec^uently so far more 
 distinguished than himself. Beyond the brief record 
 of a second call, given in Galilee, to a closer attendance 
 on our Lord, the Gos])el history records nothing more 
 of S. Andrew than his reply to the question addressed 
 by our Lord to S. Philip (S. John vi. 5) previously to 
 the miraculous feeding of the five thousand ; a reply 
 which some have regarded as a proof of greater faith 
 than that which was discovered by S. Pliilip, but from 
 which it would seem that we are enabled to draw no 
 certain inference, either as to the apostle's natural 
 character, or as to his spiritual progress as a disciple 
 of Christ. 
 
 We might, therefore, turn away dissatisfied from 
 an examination of the direct notices which we find of 
 this apostle, as well as of many of his colleagues in his 
 illustrious office, did not the inquiry suggest itself, 
 whether this very obscurity, which rests on names 
 which we yet know to be so worthy of man's esteem, 
 so precious in the sight of God, is not in itself in- 
 structive, itself alike a warning and a comfort to us. 
 
 It has been conjectured, not improbably, that it 
 may have been the design of our Blessed Lord to 
 present, in the college of His apostles, an epitome of 
 His Church ; to select, not those whom man would 
 
OUR LORD'S CirOICE OF THE TWELVE. 
 
 have judged to be specially fitted for the dutie.s to 
 which the apostles were called, but to lay His hand 
 upon our connnon nature under its various phases, 
 and to prove how He, the great centre of humanity, 
 could draw to Himself and consecrate to His sacred 
 service widely dilfering aspects of human character, 
 widely differing degrees of moral and intellectual 
 power. 
 
 The call of Judas may well be regarded as typical 
 of the universality of Christ's redeeming purjjose; as 
 significative of the truth that He came to heal and 
 cleanse all. For that unliap})y man, the hopeless slave, 
 as the world would deem him, of sordid greed, 
 destitute, as it would seem, cf any trait which might 
 challenge the respect, or even awaken the sympathy, 
 of human hearts — even for him we ca?inot doubt that 
 not only the kingdom of heaven was o})ened, but also 
 that a throne in that kingdom was prepared. He 
 was called to be not only a follower, but an aj)ostle of 
 our Lord. Nor can we think otherwise than that his 
 high commission was given him in mercy ; that He, 
 who willeth that all men should be saved, strove to 
 win him by this distinguished privilege — to sanctify 
 him by calling him to the discharge of holy functions 
 — to draw ofi* his carnal mind from earthly interests, 
 by bringing it into close contact with the things of 
 heaven. Thus did the chosen band of the apostles 
 present, even in its darkest aspect, a lesson of godly 
 
 i rl 
 
 I 
 
 
I 
 
 6 OUR LORD'S CHOICE OF THE TWELVE. 
 
 wisdom; teaching us to boar, with faitli and with 
 meekness, oflences such as the Son of God Himself 
 consented to endure, and not to suffer the unworthiness 
 of any minister of Christ to cause us to doubt that He 
 is still present with His Church, who, when He chose 
 twelve who should be with Him, chose Judas as one 
 of the twelve. 
 
 From the character of Judas the character of the 
 rest of the apostles is, indeed, widely removed. 
 " Have I not chosen you twelve, and one of you is a 
 devil ?" said our Lord. There was a vast gulf between 
 Judas and the remaining eleven. Still we may pro- 
 bably infer that the same comprehensive mercy which 
 suffered the traitor to be reckoned among the apostles, 
 also guided the choice of the rest. They would seem 
 to have been men of very different intellectual and 
 moral endowments ; types, probably, of large classes 
 among mankind ; marked, in all likelihood, by pecu- 
 liarities of character to which our ordinary human 
 sympathies would be incapable of extending them- 
 selves alike, and which He only could alike compas- 
 sionately regard, in whom humanity was perfect, 
 warped by no prejudice, swayed by no passion, 
 impaired by no weakness or defect. The impetuous 
 self-confidence of S. Peter, the gloomy dejection of S. 
 Thomas, the fiery zeal of the sons of Zebedee, the 
 carnal conceptions of S. Philip, all these the Lord alike 
 reproved, reassured, tempered, or refined ; instructing 
 
'E. 
 
 OUR LORD'S CHOICE OF THE TWELVE. 
 
 nd with 
 Himself 
 
 ortliiness 
 that He 
 
 Fie chose 
 
 ,s as one 
 
 jr of the 
 removed, 
 you is a 
 between 
 nay pro- 
 ;y which 
 apostles, 
 Id seem 
 ual and 
 
 classes 
 )y pecu- 
 
 human 
 g them- 
 compas- 
 perfect, 
 passion, 
 petuous 
 )n of S. 
 iee, the 
 rd alike 
 bructing 
 
 us how largely, how deeply. He loved the nature of 
 man, and how patiently we ought to love and tend it 
 for His sake. 
 
 And, as the apostles differed in moral qualities, so, 
 too, did they differ in intellectual endowments. We 
 may err by thinking that our Lord, in choosing as He 
 did unlearned men of private station, neglected to 
 engage in His service the higher powers of the human 
 understanding. The fervid eloquence of S. Peter, 
 the calm grandeur, the pure and gentle persuasiveness 
 of S. John, may sufficiently prove that the Redeemer 
 did not despise those goodly gifts with which His 
 own creative hand had enriched the intellectual nature 
 of man ; yet we must bear in mind that, in the 
 instance of the majority of the apostles, these superior 
 ifts were, to all appearance, wanting — that many of 
 the twelve have left no record of their teaching for 
 the permanent edification of the Church, and that the 
 Gospel narrative furnishes no trace from which we 
 may conjecture that they were possessed of more than 
 ordinary mental endowments. 
 
 On the whole, we may probably without rashness 
 conclude that the college of the apostles was designed 
 to be, in respect of intellectual power, a type of what 
 our Lord foreknew that the instructors of His Church 
 would be in all ages ; and, if this be so, we may surely 
 derive from the fact some most important lessons. 
 
 And, first, what a relief is it not to turn from the 
 
 
8 
 
 OUR LORD'S CHOICE OF THE TWELVE. 
 
 demands which man is apt to make on our intellectual 
 capacities, to the demand which God makes ; to look 
 away from the goal which man proposes to our am- 
 bition, to that which God sets before us as the end of 
 our hopes and endeavours ? Man often invites us to a 
 contest in which few — very few — can be crowned, and 
 seems to require the multitude simply to sacrifice 
 themselves for the honour of those few. Even when 
 we incite youth to what is called wholesome emulation, 
 do we not seem to be bidding the great majority to 
 seek a prize which they can never gain ; to live on 
 hopes which must be disappointed ; to make somr 
 object, which is probably unattainable, the aim and 
 purpose of their lives ? The aim whicli God proposes 
 to us, while it supplies a far stronger and more con- 
 stant motive to exertion, and, if kept in view, ensures, 
 far more than any other object can, the fitting use, the 
 due development of the powers of our understanding, 
 still comforts all alike by the prospect of assured 
 success to hearty and earnest endeavour. He who 
 gives the one talent, the two and the five talents, 
 requires f'*om each of us a return proportioned to the 
 gift wherewith we have been entrusted ; He despises 
 not any gift oF his ow^ hand, any honest effort to 
 inqa'ove that gift. All alike hav. the same welcome, 
 the same rew^ard, from Him, if they have proved them- 
 selves faithful stewards of the trust committed to 
 them. Tliere is a contemptuous pity which we arc; 
 
OUR LORD'S CHOICE OF THE TWELVE. 
 
 illectual 
 to look 
 )ur am- 
 end of 
 us to a 
 icd, and 
 sacrifice 
 1 when 
 ulation, 
 )rity to 
 live on 
 D some 
 m and 
 roposes 
 •0 con- 
 nsures, 
 use, the 
 inding, 
 .ssiired 
 who 
 alents, 
 to the 
 .'spises 
 brt to 
 Icome, 
 them- 
 ;ed to 
 e an; 
 
 too prone to feel for those whose abilities are .:'mall, of 
 which we may be assured that it is evil, because it 
 cannot consist with a reverent recollection of God. He 
 dispenses His gifts in different degrees, and we must 
 improve these gifts accordingly : the}^ who have re- 
 ceived much, with a humbling conviction of their 
 increased responsibility ; they who have received little, 
 with the cheering recollection that that little is the 
 gift of God, to be employed to His honour and to their 
 own endless good. 
 
 But, again, we mn.st bear in mind that the gifts of 
 tlie understanding are but a part of those endowments 
 with which God enriches His reasonable creatures, 
 and that, if we are right in supposing that the majority 
 of the apostles were men of no high intellectual 
 power, we are thus taught how great is the value of 
 moral and spiritual qualifications, more especially in 
 the instance of ministers of the Church of Christ. 
 Experience undoubtedly proves this. It is quite pos- 
 sible that a man, during the years of prei)aration, may 
 outstrip his fellows in the acquisition of knowledge, 
 in the apprehension of Christian doctrine; he may, 
 when he has entered on the office of the ministry, be 
 more competent to give instruction than others; and 
 yet he may find, as years pass on, that he has not been 
 doing so well as others whom he has been accustomed 
 to regard as his inferiors ; that he is not loved and 
 honoured as they are ; that he cannot believe that he 
 
 % 
 
■^npp" 
 
 10 
 
 OUR LORD'S CHOICE OF THE TWELVE. 
 
 has been doing the work of Christ as they have been 
 doing it. And why is this ? Because his moral and 
 religious qualifications are not such as theirs ; because 
 he has not their meokness, their patience, their self- 
 denial, their perseverance and singleness of purpose ; 
 because he has not disciplined himself, as they have, 
 to tread faithfully a constant round of unobtrusive 
 duties — sowing, because they -observe not the wind, 
 and reaping, because they regard not the clouds. We 
 may be well assured that moral qualifications must 
 enter largely into a just estimate of a man's fitness for 
 the office of a minister ; and, by bearing this in mind, 
 we may understand better than we should otherwise 
 do the law by which our Blessed Lord chose His 
 apostles. Knowing, as we do, scarcely anything more 
 of S. Andrew than that which the text tells us, and 
 on which the Collect for the day enlarges, how " he 
 readily obeyed the calling of Christ, and followed Him 
 without delay," we may yet discern, in this one act, a 
 proof of high fitness for the office to which he was 
 called. The simple and lively faith which drew him 
 from the occupation which habit had endeared to him, 
 and to which he had long been accustomed to look as 
 his sole means of subsistence, the enduring faith which 
 kept him at our Lord's side during the three years of 
 trial, was a qualification for the apostolic office far 
 higher than any merely intellectual endowments could 
 have been. Those simple-minded men, who bore the 
 
 .^ 
 
OUR LORD'S CHOICE OF THE TWELVE. 
 
 II 
 
 ve been 
 )ral and 
 because 
 eir self- 
 )urpose ; 
 y have, 
 btrusive 
 e wind, 
 Is. We 
 IS must 
 ness for 
 n mind, 
 herwise 
 ose His 
 ig more 
 us, and 
 ow " lie 
 ed Him 
 e act, a 
 he was 
 ew him 
 to him, 
 look as 
 I which 
 ears of 
 fice far 
 ;s could 
 ore the 
 
 ■f 
 
 reproach of Christ alike in the wilderness and in the 
 city, in the synagogue and in the temple, proof against 
 the wayward passions of the multitude, and the 
 chilling contempt or dangerous indignation of their 
 ecclesiastical superiors ; unshaken by the startling 
 contrasts which evermore presented themselves in the 
 circumstances of our Saviour's life on earth, by the 
 strange blending of power and weakness, of glory and 
 humiliation, which marked the first coming of the 
 Son of man — these men showed, as they trod their 
 silent and unobtrusive course, that they were indeed, 
 in respect of qualifications of the highest moment, well 
 fitted to bear the name of Christ before kings and 
 rulers, and to publish His salvation to the ends of the 
 earth. 
 
 Let us bear in mind, therefore, that for the highest 
 and holiest service in which God employs us on earth, 
 the qualifications are of difierent kinds, partly intel- 
 lectual and partly moral, and that the moral are the 
 weightier; that, so far as we can judge, the latter 
 were chiefly regarded by our Lord in His choice of 
 the twelve. 
 
 Let us remember, too, that they will be chiefly 
 regarded by those amongst men who really profit by 
 the instructions of the ministers of Christ. They v/ill 
 value Christ's stewards as thej^ are found to be 
 faithful. They will value them for their diligent 
 performance of those parts of their duty wliich least 
 
la^ 
 
 12 
 
 OC//^ LORD'S CHOICE OF THE TWELVE. 
 
 I I 
 
 demand intellectual power; which most require that 
 moral strength and patience which can dwell only in 
 a pure and chastened and believing heart. The steady 
 friend, the prudent counsellor, the diligent and kindly 
 visitant of the aged and the sick, the patient and 
 gentle instructor of the young — this is the man whom 
 years will prove to have been the best (jualified — the 
 most successful — minister of Christ; and all this a 
 minister may be to whom God has given but small 
 intellectual endowments ; all this a minister must be 
 if, being possessed of high abilities, he would truly 
 consecrate them to the service of his God, 
 
 The example of the apostles, then, may teach us 
 to make a sober estimate both of ourselves and of 
 others ; remembering, in our own case, how much our 
 iitness for God's service depends on our possessing 
 those moral (pialities which absolutely preclude all 
 self-confidence and high opinion of ourselves ; and, in 
 the case of others, how far they who are confessedly 
 our inferiors in some obvious intellectual endowments 
 may yet surpass us in the faithful administration of 
 the gifts which they have received, and in the pos- 
 session of those graces of the Spirit which live and 
 work in secret, and which shall not be known, in 
 respect either of their intrinsic excellence or of their 
 abundant fruits, until the day when " every man shall 
 have praise of God." 
 
 Many of the twelve apostles of the Lamb, whose 
 
OUR LORD'S CHOICE OF THE TWELVE. 
 
 13 
 
 ])OS- 
 
 and 
 
 names shall be inscribed upon the foundations of the 
 New Jerusalem, have yet left nothing more than a 
 name upon the earth. Let us not, then, think it 
 strange if, in serving Christ, we seem to be destined 
 to pass away forgotten ; nor let us be tempted to 
 deviate at all from the path of duty, or to forsake in 
 the least our proper sphere, for the purpose of making 
 ourselves known, or of seeking the praise of men. 
 Let us be content to be known and vilued only by 
 those to whom our duties make us known, and whose 
 esteem we are bound to seek ; and if, when we pass 
 away from the earth, our names should live only in 
 their remembrance and die with them, let us know 
 that we are but sharing the common lot of the great 
 multitude of those whose names are written in 
 heaven. Let us know, too, that it is probably for our 
 instruction, and for the checking of our vain regrets, 
 that so little opportunity has been given us of invest- 
 ing with their appropriate honour the first disciples 
 and followers of our Lord; the story of their lives, 
 their peculiar services, their distinctive excellences, 
 being reserved to be learned by us hereafter, safe 
 treasured in that world where all is held in everlast 
 ing remembrance which has been done in tlie faith 
 and fear of God, in the name of Christ, and for the 
 love of the bretliren. 
 
 
 m 
 
mmmmmmm 
 
 mmmmmmmm 
 
 SERMON 11. 
 Preached in Trinity College Chapel. 
 
 For Christmas Day. 
 
 S. L JKE ii. 19.—*' But Mary kept all these things, and 
 pondered them in her heart." 
 
 We read in the Gospel for this clay that, when God 
 the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us, " He 
 was in the world, and the world was made by Him, 
 and the world knew Him not. He came unto His 
 own, and His own received Him not." 
 
 That God manifested in the flesh should have been 
 thus hidden from the minds of His creatures, thus 
 despised and rejected of them, is indeed to us matter 
 of astonishment; and but little thought is needed to 
 convince us that it must have been a very painful 
 trial of the faith of those to whom God first announced 
 that the fulness of time was come, and that He had 
 sent forth His Son. The promise of four thousand 
 years was indeed strangely fulfilled, and they who 
 witnessed its fulfilment had, no doubt, to give up 
 many preconceived opinions of their own as to the 
 
THE WITNESS TO THE INFANT CHRIST. 
 
 15 
 
 mode of its fulfilment, and to renounce their own vain 
 imaginations of what God would do, in order that 
 they might meekly admire or devoutly believe the 
 divine wisdom of that which God liad done. That 
 our Lord's birth and life should have been so obscure 
 as they were, that none of the princes of this world 
 should have recognized Him, that He should have 
 been thus recognized only by those who really loved 
 His doctrine and His example — all this, no doubt, was 
 ordered by the unsearchable wisdom of God, and we 
 may in part discern its fitness ; we may perceive that 
 God's power and glory were, in the end, more fully 
 declared by the utter weakness and helplessness of 
 that form in Avhich the Son of God took upon Him 
 tlie nature of man ; and we may also thence be taught 
 to know that to Him who stooped from heaven earth 
 liad nothing to give which was worthy of His accept- 
 ance, and that the manger did but very feebly express 
 the depth of His humiliation when He emptied Him- 
 self of His glory, and consented to be made in the 
 likeness of sinful flesh. To become "inan, that was the 
 humiliation ; to take the manhood into God, that was 
 the condescension. An earthly throne had been no 
 throne to Hiin, for it is He that " sitteth upon the circle 
 of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are as grass- 
 hoppers ; all nations before Him are as notliiiig, and 
 they are counted to Him less than nothing and vanity." 
 Man's pride, therefore, may have been very wisely 
 
 
 
,./«»l^ 'f " 
 
 i6 
 
 THE WITNESS TO THE INFANT CHRIST. 
 
 humbled by the meanness of our Saviour's birth. He 
 may have chosen the lowliest place on earth partly 
 that we might be reminded how low to Him, how 
 utterly unworthy of Him, had been earth's highest 
 place. 
 
 But, while the Redeemer's coming was thus noise- 
 less, His entrance into our world thus silent and 
 obscure — while it was thus hidden from the minds of 
 men in g'^neral that the glorious promises of God, made 
 to patriarchs and prophets, had been at length fulfilled 
 — let us not think that God did not, most clearly 
 and infallibly, mark to a chosen few the fulfilment of 
 His Word, and give them most convincing evidence 
 that Deity was veiled beneath the lowly and feeble 
 humanity of the Child Jesus. " In the mouth of two 
 or three witnesses shall every word be established : " 
 such was the rule which God gave to man concerning 
 the proof of facts ; and He Himself did, by the mouth 
 of many independent witnesses, confirm the faith of 
 those who Avere first called to believe that Jesus was 
 the Christ. In order, then, that our faith may be 
 confirmed in Him w^hose birth we this day celebrate, 
 let us turn to the Gospel history, and endeavour to 
 trace the several signs by which God strengthened 
 and comforted the hearts of those to whose faith and 
 love He deigned to entrust His incarnate Son. 
 
 And, first of all, to the Blessed Virgin herself the 
 angel Gabriel appears, to assure her that she shall be 
 
THE WITNESS TO THE IXEAXT CHRIST. 
 
 17 
 
 highest 
 
 IS noise- 
 ent. and 
 ninds of 
 )d, made 
 fulfilled 
 
 clearly 
 Iment of 
 jvidence 
 d feeble 
 I of two 
 ished : " 
 icerning 
 
 mouth 
 faith of 
 fsus was 
 may he 
 lebrate, 
 vour to 
 o'thened 
 ith and 
 
 elf the 
 shall be 
 
 i 
 
 
 tlie mother of the Son of God, " tlie Holy Ghost coming,' 
 u})()n her, and the power of tlie Highest overshadow- 
 iiiiX her." Sufficient fjround to believe this wondrous 
 message no doubt Mary had — it would have been iSin 
 to discredit it — but still there is strong reason to con- 
 chule that she could only believe, and did not knoiv, 
 tliat an angel had spoken with her. We are told that 
 at first she was troubled at his saying, which she could 
 liardly have been had she been assured Jiat he was 
 a messenger from God. Nor are we warranted in 
 assuming more than that ere the angel de})arted from 
 lier she had learned meekly to believe his wondrous 
 tidings. 
 
 But, however strongly convinced herself, to con- 
 vince any other human being of the truth of the 
 angelic appearance, and of her own glorious expec- 
 tations, may well have seemed to the Virgin to be 
 beyond her power. We find, however, that she at 
 once resolved on communieatinij the tidinjxs to her 
 kinswoman Elisabeth, choosing her, probably, because 
 she had been mentioned by the angel himself as one 
 for whom God had wrought in a way only less 
 miraculous. And, at this point, let us mark God's 
 renewed testimony — His gracious regard for the 
 comfort and assurance of the heart of His handmaid. 
 Mary came to entrust to her friend, no doubt with 
 trembling anxiety as to the efi'ect which her com- 
 nmnication might produce, the great and strange 
 
 C 
 
 
 I ■ 
 
 i j 
 
« 
 
 i8 
 
 THE WITNESS TO THE IXFAXT CHRIST. 
 
 things which, as she believed, God was doing for her; 
 but, instead of having to execute this painful task, she 
 hears at once, from the lips of Elisabeth, the confir- 
 mation of her faithful hopes, the (piieting of her fears. 
 When Elisabeth heard her first greeting, " the babe 
 leaped in Tier womb for jo}' ; and Elisabeth was filled 
 with the Holy Ghost : and she spake out with a loud 
 voice, and sahl. Blessed art thou among women, and 
 blessed is the fruit of thy womb. And whence is this 
 to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me ? " 
 How strangely, how unexpectedly, must these words 
 have fallen on the ear of the Blessed Virgin ! There is, 
 then, another who knows her secret already ; there is 
 another human being who believes even as she has 
 believed — yes, perhaps yet more strongly; who rejoices 
 in her exaltation, commends her for her pious trust, 
 assures her that it shall not be disappointed, and 
 greets her as the mother of her Lord. What a change 
 must have been wrought at this moment ! what a 
 relieving of an overburdened heart ! She has now one 
 who shares with her the weight of the glorious yet 
 perplexing revelation — one who has been, like herself, 
 heaven-taught. In the mouth of ti^oo witnesses the 
 Word of God is established. The silence of Holy 
 Scripture is ofttimes more expressive than any words 
 could be, and here it is most worthy of remark, that 
 while no direct mention is made of the eft'ect produced 
 on the mind of Mary by Elisabeth's inspired greeting, 
 
:i 
 
 THE WirXESS TO THE IXFANT CHRIST. 
 
 19 
 
 tliat effect is yet most f()reil)ly deelarcd l)y tlie words 
 of the iilessed Vir<jfin which iininediately folhjw. To 
 the angel, in lier first awe and ])ei"|)lexity, slie had said, 
 with nie<'i<ness rather than with exultation, " liehold 
 the handmaid of the Lord ; be it unto me accordin*' to 
 thy word." But now tlie repetition of the marvellous 
 announcement, and that by a human voice — the voice 
 of a well-known friend — produced within her profound 
 emotions of joy and thankfulness, and called forth a 
 sublime burst of holy gratitude. " And Mary said, 
 My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath 
 rejoiced in God my Saviour. For He hath regarded the 
 lowliness of llis handmaiden: for, behold, from hence- 
 forth all ii^'nerfitions shall call me blessed." She seems 
 now, for the first time, to have realized the glory, 
 honour, and immortality to which her God had called 
 her — the place which she must ever hold, till the end 
 of time, in the esteem of those who should be gathered 
 into the fold of Him, who was to be her Lord and yet 
 her Son. 
 
 Thus far two witnesses have we to the great truth 
 that Jesus is conceived by the Holy Ghost and to be 
 born of the Virgin Mary ; let us now tuiri to a third, 
 and that a most important witness. Mary, as w^e 
 read, was es})oused to Jose})h, a man of the house 
 of David. We do not learn that either Mary or 
 Elisabeth made any attempt to impart to him what 
 had been made known to themselves. They probably 
 
 1 
 
 g 
 8 
 
20 
 
 THE WITNESS TO THE LYE A XT CHRIST, 
 
 tliou((lit tliat, in so strange and unparalloled an 
 instanco, one, too, in wliich (Jod's working was so 
 visi])lo, (luictnoss and confidence were tlieir best 
 strength — tliat God would provide, wliile tliey sliould 
 hold their peace and await His pleasure. Not soon, 
 however, was tliat pleasure made known. Months 
 passed away, and Joseph, either not having been 
 informed of, or not crediting, the truth, was intending 
 privately to put away his espoused wife, when to him 
 also the angel of the Lord appears, bidding him take 
 her to him, and assuring him of the divinity of the 
 Child who was about to be born. 
 
 If, then, Mary's heart had been assured by the 
 cjreetinfj of Elisabeth, nmst not the faith of both have 
 been wondrously confirmed by this third testimony to 
 the truth of God, when Joseph marked his own un- 
 doubting conviction of that truth by conduct which 
 nothing less than a divine command could have 
 induced him to adopt, or justified him in adopting ? 
 And when he too declared that Jesus was to be the 
 name of the Child, must not Mary have felt how 
 graciously God was condescending to human weakness, 
 in repeating to her husband the instruction wliich had 
 before been given to herself; thus certifying both that 
 they were trusting to no illusion, but that to her 
 waking senses, and to him in dreams, the same divine 
 communication had indeed been made ? Here, then, 
 are three human beings, each independently informed 
 
m 
 
 THE irnW'KSS TO THE JXEAXT CHRIST. 
 
 21 
 
 ](V fiod of the same wondrous truth, struiiLrtlu'iiiii'^ and 
 coinf'ortinuf cacli otlicr's licjirts hy the accurate coi'iv- 
 spnndeiice of tlieir several convictions, assuring each 
 otlier tliat tliey are giving lieed to no cunningly 
 devised fahle, jii'ej)aring each oth<'r to he witnesses, if 
 need he, to the wlnde world, that the Word is {hunt 
 to he made llesh. 
 
 No douht they ofttinies wondered at the grace 
 given unto them, at the secret entrusted to their 
 keeping; they w^ondered, no doul)t, that this treasure 
 should he in vessels so mean as they — that God should 
 have chosen things so weak and so despised as they. 
 They marvelled, no doubt, that tlie great and the wise 
 of their nation were not instructed to expect the ap- 
 l)roaching Messiah, that the peoi)le at Large were not 
 warned to be in waiting for the coming ot' their King ; 
 yet, however astonished they miglit have been at the 
 mode of God's working, that His working it was tliey 
 could not doubt. Few as they were, mean as they 
 were, they knew that He had cliosen them to witness 
 tlie first risinir of the Sun of Kiffhteousness ; however 
 unworthy they may liave deemed themselves to be 
 entrusted with God's wondrous secret, they could not 
 doubt that His secret vxa^ with them. 
 
 And again, as time passed on and brought furtliei* 
 trial of their faith, further cause of per})lexity, God 
 summoned other witnesses to the trutli of His Word ; 
 strangely blending, with the humiliation of His 
 
 V- : '• \ 
 
■^■^ 
 
 ^^ 
 
 ■■V 
 
 22 
 
 THE WITNESS TO THE INFANT CHRIST. 
 
 incarnate Son, solemn intimations of His unearthly 
 majesty, and enlightening the gloom of His visible 
 weakness with bright tokens of His invisible power 
 and glory. How lowly, how forlorn, were the cir- 
 cumstances of our Saviour's birth ! Poor had been 
 His cradle had He been born at Nazareth ; yet there, 
 at all events, His mother could have sheltered Him in 
 her own home. At Bethlehem she was but a stranger, 
 and, the town being full on the public occasion which 
 drew her thither, she, like a poor stranger, finds no 
 room in the inn, and brings forth her firstborn in 
 a stable. No doubt even they who stood by com- 
 miserated the mother and the infant, looking on them 
 only as two human beings, destitute of ordinary 
 comforts : but to Mary and Joseph how perplexing- 
 must have been this unlooked-for asfuTavation of the 
 meanness of the Redeemer's coming ; how must they 
 have been amazed that God should have appointed for 
 this most oiorious of all births, circumstances of 
 unwonted discomfort and dishonour ! Yet there, in 
 the stable, to the Saviour in the manger, does God 
 bear witness. In the darkness of the nii>ht, strano^ers 
 come in to search for a wondrous Child, of whose birth 
 the}^ have been informed by an angel ; and, even 
 because He is laid in a manger, do they confess Him 
 to be their Saviour, Christ the Lord. They tell of the 
 angel .vho came upon them, of the glory of the Lord 
 which shone round about them, of the good tidings of 
 
THE WITNESS TO THE INFANT CHRIST. 
 
 23 
 
 3arthly 
 
 visible 
 
 power 
 
 ne eir- 
 
 been 
 
 there, 
 
 3im in 
 
 ranger, 
 
 which 
 
 nds no 
 
 )orn in 
 
 y com- 
 
 i them 
 
 xlinary 
 
 plexing 
 
 of the 
 
 st tliey 
 
 ited for 
 
 ices of 
 
 icre, in 
 
 3s God 
 
 raiiixers 
 
 e birth 
 
 I, even 
 
 IS Him 
 
 \ of the 
 
 [i Lord 
 
 ings of 
 
 I 
 
 great joy that were published, of the multitude of the 
 heavenly host which they beheld ; and their looks and 
 their actions bear them witness that angels have indeed 
 been talking with them, for the glory of that heavenly 
 vision hides from them the eartnly poverty which 
 they now behold. They see Him of whom the angel 
 spake to them, and this suffices ; they return, glorifying 
 and praising God. "All they that heard," we read, 
 " wondered at those things which were told them by 
 the shepherds. But IVIary kept all these things, and 
 pondered them in her heart." Well might she do so ; 
 they are the food of her faith — the bright, the glorious 
 side of that great mystery, " God manifested in the 
 flesh." The shepherds again have borne their witness 
 to the truth of God ; there are now yet more who 
 liave seen the Lord's Christ ; and Mary and Joseph 
 will better endure that men should accoimt Him to be 
 their Son, inasmuch as God has taught these other 
 chosen witnesses to confess Him to be the Son of the 
 Most High. Eemarkable indeed is this light sliining 
 so brightly in darkness, this testimony to the divinity 
 of our Lord, beaming forth all the more vividly by 
 reason of the gloom which it pierces. 
 
 So, again, when the days of Mai'y's purification were 
 accomplished, and she went up to i)resent lier firstborn 
 Son in the temple, there was much to disquiet, yet 
 more to reassure and comfort her heart. There is a 
 prophecy in Malachi (iii. 1), " The Lord, whom ye seek. 
 
 I 
 
 : Mi 
 
 \ 
 
 i 
 
24 
 
 THE WITNESS TO THE INFANT CHRIST. 
 
 shall suddenly come to His temple ; " and Haggai had 
 prophesied (ii. 9) that " the glory of the latter house 
 should exceed the glory of the former, because the 
 Lord should fill it with His glory." How widely 
 different from any anticipations which these pro- 
 phecies might have excited was the actual appearance 
 of our Lord for the first time in His Father's house, 
 and how strangely must external circumstances have 
 contrasted with the solemn faith which the Virgin 
 and her husband had been taught to cherish con- 
 cerning Him ! They came, probably, amid a throng of 
 fellow- worshippers, undistinguished from the rest ; they 
 came to offer the poor man's gift, the pair of turtle 
 doves, being incapacitated for making the richer 
 offering of the lamb. None who were present felt any 
 interest in their coming ; none knew that the Redeemer 
 of the world was being Himself redeemed in ac- 
 cordance with the law, that the Holy One of God was 
 now being called holy unto Hi.-i. Yet, amid this 
 general unconcern and ignorance, ^j. d chose for Him- 
 self a witness, who should greet hi. Saviour in the 
 1 3mple, and make His first coming thither ever me- 
 morable. Simeon, a just and devout man, to whom it 
 had been revealed by the Holy Ghost that he should 
 not see death before he had seen the Lord's Christ, 
 came by the Spirit into the temple, took the Infant up 
 in his arms, and blessed God, because his eyes had at 
 length seen His salvation. To his testimony was added 
 
THE WITNESS TO THE IXFANT CHRIST. 
 
 25 
 
 that of the prophetess Anna, "who gave thanks 
 likewise unto the Lord, and spake of Jesus unto all 
 them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem." 
 
 Thus gradually were accessions made to the number 
 of heaven-taught witnesses to the truth that the Infant 
 Jesus was the Christ, closing with the wondrous tes- 
 timony of the magi, who came from the East, moved 
 by the appearance of a star, that they might worship 
 Him who was Lorn King of the Jews. These were 
 the firstfruits of the Gentile world ; and V\'hen they 
 knelt before the little Child, offering Him gold and 
 frankincense and myrrh, they strongly proved that 
 the arm of the Lord was indeed with Him, who, while 
 unknown to the world, was thus miraculously known 
 to those whom God had chosen out of the world to 
 be His fi.'^st worshippers and witnesses No wonder, 
 then, that " Mary kept all these things, and pondered 
 them in her heart;" a comfort under daily trials, a 
 shield against unbelief, a glorious memorial that the 
 Child who grew before her, called and accounted as 
 He was the son of Joseph, was indeed no other than 
 the Son of God. 
 
 Let Ks, too, keep these things, and ponder them in 
 \\y hearts. Let us not disregard the manifijld testimony 
 which God gave, even at the first, to His incarnate 
 Son. He instructed the Blessed Virgin by the oi)en 
 vision of an angel ; He enlightened Elisabeth by the 
 inspiration of His Holy Spirit ; He warned Joseph in 
 
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 n 
 
 ' ;) 
 
 B 
 
 \ 
 
^p 
 
 \': 
 
 26 THE WITNESS TO THE LXFANT CHRIST, 
 
 a dream ; He caused to shine around the shepherds a 
 divine glory, and taught them, by the exhortation and 
 example of angels, to greet with joy and praise their 
 infant Saviour; He guided the feet of Simeon and 
 Anna into the temple ; He led the magi to Bethlehem 
 to worship ;— not for their own sake alone, but for the 
 sake of His Church to the end of time, that we mio-ht 
 look back, and repose our faith upon this complicated 
 testimony, gratefully confessing that "these thincrs 
 have been written that we might believe that Jesus 
 is the Christ, the Son of God ; and that believing we 
 might have life through His name." 
 
i; . 
 
 SERMON III. 
 Preached ix Trinity College Chapel. 
 
 For the Festival of the Conversion of S. Paul. 
 
 S. Matthew xix. 27. — " Behold, we have forsaken all, and 
 followed Thee ; what shall we have therefore . " 
 
 The inquiry of S. Peter whicli the text contains drew 
 from our Lord a remarkable reply ; a re[)ly strongly ^ 
 indicative of " the meekness and gentleness which was 
 in Christ" — of His tender compassion for human 
 infirmity, of His solicitude to develope and encourage 
 what is good in man, as well as to warn him of that 
 which is evil. The rich young man, who had come to 
 ask how eternal life was to be attained, had gone 
 away sorrowful, because he had been counselled to 
 forsake his great possessions and follow (Jhrist ; and 
 our Lord had seized the oppoi'tunity thus presented 
 of inculcating upon His disciples the great peril of 
 riches, and the impossibility that they who trusted in 
 them should enter into the kingdom of God. While 
 the minds of the other disciples were occupied by the 
 
 n 
 p 
 
 1 't 
 
m 
 
 I I 
 
 28 
 
 T//E GAIN OF LEAVIXG ALL FOR CHRIST. 
 
 awful warning thus conveyed, and by the new view 
 which had been set before them of the necessity of 
 self-renunciation, S. Peter seems rather to have dwelt 
 on the contrast between the condition of himself and 
 his fellow-apostles and that of the young man who 
 had been so unhappily offended by his Master's 
 teaching. He seems to have concluded that they 
 had even now made the sacrifice which he was un- 
 willing to offer, and he triumphantly inquires, " What 
 shall we have therefore ? " His inquiry denotes an 
 ardent and sincere attachment to his Lord — a con- 
 viction that he had renounced all, and was prepared 
 to encounter all, for His sake ; but it also discovered 
 an undue satisfaction in the past, an undue apprecia- 
 tion both of motives and of actions, and an over- 
 weening confidence that the hour would never come 
 when he might forget his first love, and so forfeit the 
 reward which he regarded as already won. He to 
 whom all hearts are open, and to whose absolute 
 purity the sins and follies of the human heart must be 
 unspeakably more offensive than they can be to fallen 
 man, nevertheless most mercifully responded to the 
 demand of His apostle, making it the occasion of 
 pronouncing a glorious promise, fitting to be rehearsed 
 on a day like this, when we are invited to connnemo- 
 rate the labours and sufferings of S. Paul, and to look 
 beyond them all to that " crown of righteousness " 
 which is laid up for him and for all who follow^ in his 
 
of 
 
 id 
 
 THE GALV OF LEAVIXG ALL FOR CHRIST. 
 
 29 
 
 steps. Our Lord first assures to the twelve, of whom 
 S. Peter spake, then* thrones in the regeneration ; and 
 then, extending His promise far beyond the limit of 
 the apostle's thoughts, promises to all who for His 
 sake foregr^ the hopes, the pleasures, the comforts of 
 this life, an hundredfold more in this present time, 
 and in the world to come everlasting life. He then 
 tempers the brightness of this gracious declaration with 
 the sad and sober words of warning, " But many that 
 are first shall be last, and the last shall be first." 
 
 What deep meaning must these words have pos- 
 sessed for Him who read the future ! The throne which 
 Judas should not fill was before His sight ; He saw, 
 too, the hour when Peter would account himself no less 
 a castaway than Judas was — the hour when he would 
 recall to mind his over-confident demand and his Lord's 
 reply, with far other feelings than those which now 
 possessed him. It has also been thought that reference 
 is made in our Lord's words to the remarkable instance 
 of him who, being last called to the apostolate, and 
 in his own esteem " the least of all the apostles," and 
 " not worthy to be called an apostle," because he had 
 persecuted the Church of God, yet " laboured," as he 
 himself asserts, " more abundantly than they all," and 
 thus attained, in some sort, the first i)lace among them. 
 
 Whether reference is or is not especially made to 
 the instance of S. Paul, is but a profitless incpiiry. At 
 all events, the general truth which our Lord asserts 
 
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 30 
 
 THE GAIN OF LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 
 
 was remarkably exemplified in his case ; and we may, 
 perhaps, without presumption, conclude that it was 
 the special design of God that that humbling and 
 salutary truth should be thus strikingly illustrated in 
 the person of one who was an apostle of our Lord. 
 " Lo, we have forsaken all," said S. Peter, of himself 
 and of the other men of Galilee who were called to 
 follow Christ — ordained " that they should be with 
 Him " — and he spoke with truth and sincerity ; yet he 
 was to observe hereafter the course of one for whom 
 these words bore another meaning — of one who forsook 
 not nets and boats on the sea of Tiberias, the toils and 
 dangers and petty gains of a fisher's life — of one who 
 forsook not the receipt of custom at Capernaum, which 
 the wealthier Levi was content to forego ; but who 
 forsook at once, for Christ's sake, the choicest treasure 
 which, apart from Christ, a Jewish heart could know 
 — the pride of learning, the praise of orthodoxy, the 
 glory of zeal, that deai'ly bought and cherished 
 reputation which intellectual superiority and moral 
 worth had purchased for him with many of the most 
 eminent of his contemporaries. It would be a hard 
 task adequately to describe the " all " wliich S. Paul 
 forsook, or might well think that he was forsaking, for 
 Christ's sake ; but we may readily believe that S. Peter 
 gratefully confessed, in the days of his riper knowledge, 
 the goodness of his Divine Master, in teaching him, 
 by the example of his fellow-apostle, to know, more 
 
 (( 
 
THE GAIX OF LEAVIXG ALL FOR CLLRIST. 
 
 31 
 
 aul 
 for 
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 truly than he had once known, wliat man may consent 
 to forego in order that lie may follow Christ. " What 
 shall we have therefore ? " S. Paul asked not this 
 question, or rather he assumed that it was already 
 answered. " I count all things but loss for the 
 excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my 
 Lord." His aim was " to win Christ, and to be found 
 in Him." T]iis was what he sought to liave. Yet he 
 had, too, in a remarkable degree, what Christ had 
 promised — " an hundredfold more in this present time." 
 Had he lost friends ? he gained more ; had he forfeited 
 the love and care of kinsfolk ? others became bound 
 to him in ties closer than those of blood. His Epistles 
 tell us how God restored to him far more than he had 
 lost. We read of one to whom he gave the name of 
 *' mother." Countless are his " brethren " in Chiist. Nor 
 can we doubt that he felt more than a " father's " joy 
 in those whom he greets as " his own sons in the faitii " 
 — " in Onesimus, whom he had begotten in his bonds ; " 
 more than a father's yearning tendei'ness towards 
 those " little children " whom, " in Christ Jesus, he had 
 begotten through the gospel." S. Paul had his deep 
 sorrows and his bitter sufierings, but, as we trace his 
 wondrous course, and remember the widespread regions 
 throuQ'h which he was commissioned to bear the name 
 of God, and to proclaim the blessings of the gospel of 
 Christ, can we for a moment doubt that all which he 
 had foregone was an hundredfold repaid ? 
 
 ■1. i 
 
 P 
 
32 
 
 THE GAIN OF LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 
 
 As he thought, in liis closing years, of what he 
 j)urposed to have been, and of what the grace of God 
 liad made him, mark how his heart overflows with 
 gratitude : " Now unto the King eternal, immortal, 
 invisible, th(3 only wise God, be honcnir and glory for 
 ever and ever. Amen " (1 Tim. i. 17). He purposed 
 to have been a Jew — a thoughtful, conscientious Jew 
 — a reformer of the corrupt creed or of the corrupted 
 morals of his countrymen ; he would fain have 
 kindled once more the expiring flame of patriotic 
 feeling and of religious fervour among the sons of 
 Israel. And must he not have felt most keenly how 
 utterly hopeless was the task which he had proposed 
 to himself; how even a partial success would probably 
 but have precipitated the ruin of his j)eople ; and, above 
 all, how the whole aim and effort of his life must have 
 been directed in disastrous opposition to the sublime 
 and gracious purposes of God ? Often must he have 
 pondered, with an ever-deepening sense of its profound 
 import, the solemn warning once given him by the voice 
 from heaven, ".It is hard for thee to kick against the 
 pricks." He would feel that, even within the limits of 
 his earthly course, he had been richly repaid ; that for 
 every hope and object which he had abandoned, a far 
 better hope, a far nobler object had been presented ; 
 that " the Father of mercies and the God of all com- 
 fort " had provided, amidst all sorrows, reliefs and 
 solaces which he would not consent to forego for 
 aught which earth could offer. 
 
 
THE GAIN OF LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 
 
 II 
 
 But may we not look beyond the limit of the 
 apostle's life on earth in traeing his earthly reward ? 
 Do not even men of the world ofttimes live for the 
 future ? Do not even they account the days through 
 which their names may survive them, their memory 
 be honoured by posterity, as a part of *' tliis time " ? 
 And is it in itself a mistaken or unworthy instinct 
 which prom[)ts men to desire the kindly, loving re- 
 membrance of their fellows — to hope to live in their 
 esteem and admiration ? If, then, we thus extend 
 the limits of " this present time," as conti'asted with 
 "the world to come," the recompense made to the 
 faithful servant of Christ begins to take to itself a 
 character which is indeed august, to assume a majestic 
 grandeur. Is there any merely human remembrance 
 in the world which we can liken to that which is left 
 by the servants of God, among whom it has pleased 
 Him to make the apostle whom we this day com- 
 memorate io us at least especially conspicuous ? We 
 might exi)ect that the apostle of the Gentiles would 
 secure, in a pre-eminent degree, the sym})athy of the 
 Gentile Cliurch ; and, as we may well believe, for the 
 sake of that Church, he was moved to leave behind 
 him written memorials far more full than those by 
 which we have learned to know, to love, and to 
 honour his fellow-servants. 
 
 And thus he has indeed received an hundredfold 
 more than aught which he forsook. And, to mention 
 
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 34 
 
 THE GAIN OF LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 
 
 first the lowest of liis honours, yet that on which the 
 great ones of tlie earth prided tlieinselves of old, 
 and have not yet ceased to pride themselves, what 
 material record of himself could Saul of Tarsus, or 
 Saul the rahhi of Jerusalem, have liopcjd to leave ? 
 What iecord, to be renewed again and again, as time 
 laid its hand upon it ? May we not think that, even 
 here, an intimation is given us of the enduring nature 
 of Christ's kingdom, of honours dispensed by Christ, 
 in the fact that the apostle's name and memory 
 survive in every clime, even by means of material 
 fabrics, in such wise never yet the memory of 
 
 hero or king has been ^ ^ jtuated upon earth ? May 
 we not even here learn that he who loses his life for 
 Christ's sake does indeed find it ? May w^e not 
 contrast with the crumbling column or the broken 
 arch, which remains on some one spot as the memorial 
 of human ambition, the multiplied memorials of the 
 apostle, growing up continually in all lands, to the 
 glory of God and to his blessed memory ? It is 
 only the holiness of the apostle's high calling, the 
 grandeur of his aims and hopes, which gives to this 
 portion of his recompense an aspect of insignificance, 
 and prompts us to pass on to that which is of a more 
 exalted character. 
 
 Be it remembered, then, that S. Paul laboured, not 
 only for the Church of his own day, by oral teaching 
 and by government ; he wrought also for the Church 
 
TITE GALV OF LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 
 
 35 
 
 of «all times, by his writings. And can we examine 
 these writings, and fail to learn tliat his reward has 
 been great indeed " in this present time " ? Jte wrote 
 as he was moved by tlie Holy Ghost, but he wrote 
 also as he himself knew, and thought, and felt, and 
 willed. His letters are inspired, but they are also the 
 fruit of Christian understanding and of Christian 
 feeling ; of noble natural endowments nobly exercised ; 
 of a spirit obediently chastened by the discipline of 
 Heaven ; of a good and honest heart, which humbly 
 and gladly yielded itself to every j)reci()ua influence of 
 divine grace. S. Paul could not have written as he 
 did, if he had not lived as he did. His teaching is the 
 word of God, but it is a word which had wrought 
 itself into his very soul and life, and was thence 
 delivered to us. And let us liere devoutly recognize 
 the freeness and liberality of God's working. Man 
 would often work rather by instruments than by 
 agents; he would often degrade his agents into mere 
 instruments of his will, would avail himself of their 
 executive capacity, while fettering the exercise of 
 their judgment, their liberty of choice. But God 
 condescends to be served by willing agents, ever work- 
 ing, indeed, in subordination to Him, yet, in some sort, 
 doing their own work, and speaking words of their 
 own ; thus deriving an enjoyment from the service, 
 and reaping from it a reward Avhich could not possibly 
 be theirs, if the consciousness of free agency, of the 
 
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 I 
 
36 
 
 THE GAIN OF LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 
 
 spontaneous exercise, and the careful improvement of 
 their own powers were withdrawn. 
 
 Let us take a very few of the words of the apostle 
 for the purpose of illustrating these remarks. Not 
 to mention how the thoughts of S. Paul are wrought 
 into the lanjjuafje of our liturojical forms, let us look 
 to some occasions of peculiar solemnity at which we 
 avail ourselves of his express words. He stands, as it 
 were, with our Blessed Lord Himself, and with the 
 beloved disciple, to address to us " the comfortable 
 words" when we are about to approach the Holy 
 Table ; and can we form an adequate conception of 
 the power of those w ord,], heard, as they have been, 
 at that time, by all sorts and conditions of men, " This 
 is a true saying, and worthy of all men to be received, 
 that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners " ? 
 Surely this is one of the words of God, of which He 
 said, '^ It shall not return unto Me void, but it shall 
 accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in 
 the thing whereto I sent it." 
 
 Again, he speaks to us words of strong consolation 
 in the saddest hour which our earthly experience 
 knows, telling us, in the presence of the dead, of the 
 resurrection from the dead, assuring us that that 
 which is "sown in corruption, in dishonour, and in 
 weakness," shall be " raised in incorru})tion, in glory, 
 and in power." Here, too, he stands beside His Divine 
 Master to strengthen us, and after we have rehearsed 
 
ine 
 rsed 
 
 THE GAIN OF LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 
 
 37 
 
 in our prayer that Mttstcr's words, we confess that He 
 " hath taught us, by His lioly Apostle S. Paul, not to 
 be sorry, as men without hope, for them that sleep in 
 Him." Nor, in these instances, is it merely the truth 
 declared, or the exhortation given, on which our atten- 
 tion is to be fixed ; we should mark also the Trianner 
 of giving expression to that truth, the manner of en- 
 forcing that exhortation. Here the individual character 
 appears, here intellectual or moral power is discovered, 
 and chastened sublimity or exquisite tenderness in 
 their turn invite us to recognize and to embrace God's 
 sacred verity. What language can we conceive more 
 fitted to fall upon the ear of sorrow, than that where- 
 with he bids us comfort one another, when he reminds 
 us that " if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, 
 so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with 
 Him " ? Can we think of the solace which these 
 words must have conveved for eighteen centuries to 
 Christian .xiourners, and doubt that the apostle has 
 received " an hundredfold more in this present time," 
 even in the strong affection of those who, while they 
 reverently and gratefully remember Him, who alone 
 can say, " I, even I, am He that com forte th you," need 
 not, and do not, in that remembrance forget the 
 human voice by which they have been so tenderly 
 counselled to take God's comfort home ? 
 
 Nor let us forget another purpose which th(^ 
 writings of S. Paul have undoubtedly answered, and 
 
 
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 38 
 
 T//E GAIN OF LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 
 
 in which he may be thought to have reaped " in this 
 time" a most abundant harvest. Next to a sound 
 faith, we require, in the province of speculative and 
 contemplative religion, sober and comely language on 
 sacred subjects ; and we can have little hesitation 
 in confessing that we are here very largely indebted 
 to the writings of S. Paul. From all the sacred 
 writers we have, indeed, much to learn in this regard, 
 but from him, probably, we derive the most explicit 
 instruction. We may observe, then, as compared with 
 secular writers, the unambitious character of S. Paul's 
 style, its freedom from redundant ornament. He 
 writes as one ever conscious of a Holy Presence with 
 him ; as one who contemplates his august subject at a 
 distance from below it. He writes as writing for it, 
 not for himself; as striving not to disparage or dis- 
 credit it, not as if it were his aim to avail himself of 
 it for purposes of his own. It is not, indeed, to be 
 expected that a tone like this should be equally main- 
 tained throughout writings of a character so diversified 
 as those of S. Paul ; but we may observe that, when- 
 ever he approaches holy ground, he is deeply conscious 
 of that approach, and seems ever to hear the voice, 
 " Draw not nigh hither." In this reserve, in this 
 instinctive reverence, lies the main secret of the sub- 
 limity of Holy Writ ; it is not by what man can say 
 of God and of the things of God, so much as by what 
 he abstains from saying, that he conveys to us most 
 
 
THE GAIN OF LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 
 
 39 
 
 f 
 
 I- 
 
 powerfully his apprehension of the " terrible majesty " 
 which he contemplates. " Our safest eloquence con- 
 cerning Him " (to use the words of Hooker) " is our 
 silence, when we confess, without confession, that His 
 glory is inexplicable. His greatness above our capacity 
 and reach." 
 
 Again, beyond this, we may observe on the wide 
 field for absorbing inquiry and research which the 
 records of the apostle present. Need we proof of this, 
 whether in ancient or in modern times ? How man}'- 
 have striven, how many are still striving, to unlock 
 the treasures of divine wisdom which his writings 
 contain ! Again, how many rejoice to tread in his 
 missionary footsteps, to track his wanderings ; invest- 
 ing, for his sake, every city which he visited, every 
 road by which he travelled, every physical or his- 
 torical circumstance which bears upon the story of his 
 life, with a new and higher interest. 
 
 Thus, on many different grounds, he has become 
 a common centre of attraction to a vast company of 
 the human race, of all ages and lands, of all orders 
 and degrees. The weary and heavy-laden with sin, 
 those who are bo»/ed beneath the weight of sorrow, 
 every son of prophecy, of exhortation or consolation 
 — all who would ponder Christian truth, and be 
 scribes instructed for the kingdom of heaven — turn 
 to him alike as their guide, their comforter, their 
 pattern, their instructor in Christ. And all this 
 
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 T//£ GAIN OF LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 
 
 belongs to his hundredfold recompense " in this 
 present time." 
 
 And why has he this vast recompense ? Because 
 he left all, and followed Christ. He left all he had 
 and all he was, so far as following Christ required 
 it. He gave up self There is a latent selfishness 
 which it is mdeed difficult to subdue — a selfishness 
 which would prompt us to make even Christ ours in 
 a bad sense, rather than to yield ourselves up to be 
 His. Thus we may address ourselves to the study of 
 doctrinal truths with prepossessions of our own, and so 
 receive them only so far or in such form as may 
 harmonize with our precoiiceived notions. Or, again, 
 we may deal in like manner with moral or positive 
 precepts, mutilating or warping them in order to 
 adapt them to our low or perverted standard of duty. 
 We must learn and endure to come out of ourselves 
 if we would truly leave all and follow Christ. In 
 proportion as we do this may we hope, like S. Paul, 
 to approach that central life and light of men, and to 
 attract to ourselves in so doing more widely and more 
 strongly the sympathies of others. It was because he 
 did this that he speaks so generally, so eftectually, 
 to the common human heart, and binds to himself for 
 evermore, by ties so manifold, the affections of his 
 brethren in Christ. 
 
 And hereafter must follow the fulness of his 
 reward — life everlasting. Suffice it for us now to 
 
THE GAIN OF LEAVING ALL FOR CHRIST. 
 
 41 
 
 think and to speak of the time when the harvest of 
 that recompense, which is still being sown here " in 
 this present time," shall be gathered in in the life to 
 come. Then shall be realized far more than S. Paul's 
 own avowed anticipation, when he tells the Thes- 
 salonians that they are " his hope, and joy, and crown 
 of rejoicing, in the presence of Christ at His coming." 
 Then many another crown than that, from the east 
 and from the west, shall be set on the apostle's brow, 
 yet only to be cast before the throne of Him, " for the 
 excellency of the knowledge of whom he counted all 
 things but loss." 
 
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 ■^■^1 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 
 Preached in Trinity College Chapel. 
 
 For Septuagesima Sunday. 
 
 Revelation xxi. 5. — *' And He that sat upon the throne said, 
 Behold, I make all things new." 
 
 The first lessons for the three Sundays which imme- 
 diately precede the season of Lent are chosen chiefly 
 with the view of preparing us fo?' that season of 
 restraint and humiliation, by directing our thoughts 
 to the original creation of man, to the sad story of his 
 fall, and to the all but universal corruption of the 
 human race, which drew down upon it the awful 
 judgment of the flood. On this day the first lessons 
 for the morning and the evening present to us re- 
 spectively the external beauty and perfection of that 
 creation, which, as it came from the hands of its 
 Maker, He pronounced to be " very good ; " and, again, 
 the especial excellence of that garden of delight, in 
 which the Lord God placed the man whom He had 
 formed, and the moral purity and innocence of those 
 whom He had deigned to make in His own image. 
 
THE NEW HEAVENS AND THE NEW EARTH. 43 
 
 Surely, then, we may recognize the fitness with which 
 the passages of Holy Scripture which have of late been 
 appointed as special second lessons for the day, have 
 been chosen ^' ith reference to the first. For the first 
 tell us of a past happiness and perfection which have 
 been forfeited by sin ; of a primeval condition of 
 peace and safety which are ours no longer. It is 
 well, therefore, that, as our thoughts are directed to 
 this past, they should not be permitted merely to 
 revert in sadness and in shame to that present which 
 stands in so marked a contrast with it, but that they 
 should rather be pointed to a future in which more 
 than the blessedness of man's original condition shall 
 again be realized. Accordingly, some of the latest 
 visions vouchsafed to the beloved disciple are read 
 in our hearing. We are taught how, after the final 
 judgment, there shall be a new creation; how this 
 earth, which has been defiled by sin, and must, there- 
 fore, pass away, is yet not to be utterly and finally 
 destroyed ; but, as it once emerged fiom its judgment 
 by water, is in like manner to emerge from its more 
 terrible judgment by fire ; that a new heaven and a 
 new earth are to succeed the former, and to become for 
 evermore the abode of righteousness. Is it possible 
 that, as human beings, and far more as Christian men, 
 we should fail to feel the profoundest interest in the 
 disclosures which the Word of God makes to us of the 
 origin and of the final destiny of man and of his dwell- 
 
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 44 T/f£ NEW HEAVENS AND THE NEW EARTH. 
 
 ing-place ? Can we fail to be thankful that " the 
 ignorant present," which had been otherwise so desti- 
 tute of hope and joy, has been thus enlightened by- 
 visions of original glory, and of a yet greater glory 
 to be revealed at the last ? Must we not also feel 
 how deeply we need the revelations of the future 
 to interpret the past and the present ; how little it 
 would profit us, or rather how it must but aggravate 
 our wretchedness, to be told, apart from these gracious 
 disclosures of God's future purposes, of an Eden from 
 which man had been banished, of a moral integrity 
 which he had lost ? Surely we may sympathize with 
 our Christian poet, when he thus closes his meditation 
 on " the restitution of all things " — 
 
 " Thus heavenward all things tend ; for all were made 
 Perfect, and all shall be at length restored. 
 So God hath greatly purposed , who would else, 
 In His dishonoured works, Himself endure 
 Dishonour, and be wronged without redress." 
 
 How marvellously, moreover, are the revelations of 
 Holy Scripture, on these subjects, accommodated to 
 our present moral and spiritual need ! * They awaken 
 the liveliest hope, the most exalted anticipations, while 
 they leave us in a humbling, yet most salutary, un- 
 certainty as to the conditions of that future state. S. 
 Paul tells us that he heard in Paradise " unspeakable 
 words, which it is not lawful for man to utter," and 
 we may believe that none but '* unspeakable words," 
 
THE NEW HEAVEXS AND THE NEW EARTH 45 
 
 which it is alike impossible for man to utter or to 
 apprehend, could give distinct and definite expression 
 to the wonders of the future. The lanLj-uaiice in which 
 Holy Scripture whispers of these wonders to us is for 
 the most part negative, abstracting, from our dim 
 vision of that world unseen, every conception of phy- 
 sical or moral evil, everything which stains, or saddens, 
 or disquiets our existence in this present life. Or, if 
 the language be positive, it assures us, in terms most 
 general, of blessings and glories too vast to be dis- 
 tinctly realized ; or, again, it shadows forth these 
 blessings and glories under material images, in which 
 we rest only because we know them to be hui images, 
 parables which fain would aid us faintly to apprehend 
 the invisible, unutterable reality. 
 
 " He that sat upon the throne said. Behold, I make 
 all things new." What a limitless range do not these 
 words leave to our conceptions of that new creation ; 
 more especially as the word which is translated "new " 
 signifies that which is new in Idnd, not merely in a(je. 
 The heaven and the earth which are now are not to 
 be reproduced again, nor is another heaven and another 
 earth like them to be created ; the heaven and the 
 earth to which the Almighty shall then give being, 
 will be such as never yet met the sight of man or of 
 angel, such as must transcend all our thoughts. 
 
 Let us reflect on the intimations which Holy 
 Scripture gives us of the vast change which shall 
 
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 46 T//F. NEW HEAVENS AND THE NEW EARTH. 
 
 have taken place in those "who shall be accounted 
 worthy to obtain that world, and the resurrection from 
 the dead." S. Paul tells us that He, for whom " we 
 look from heaven as our Saviour, shall chanire the 
 body of our humiliation, that it may be fashioned like 
 unto the body of His glory ; " and, again, he argues 
 that, as the seed sown by man is not the body that 
 shall be, so, too, the human body, which is laid in the 
 dust, differs as widely at least from the body which 
 shall be raised, as does the seed from the plant which 
 springs from it. 
 
 Let us reflect, too, with all reverence, on the several 
 appearances, after His ascension, of that Son to whose 
 image it is the will of God to conform those " who are 
 the called according to His purpose," and we must 
 at once perceive how very feebly we, of necessity, 
 apprehend the import of the apostle's words, " we shall 
 be chcmgcd!' 
 
 If man, then, is to undergo this change — to be, even 
 in respect of the body, " a new creation" — does not this 
 at once suggest a corresponding change in respect of 
 his abiding dwelling-place, which we are told " shall 
 remain before God " ? As we muse, therefore, alike 
 with awe and liope, on the wonarous purposes of God 
 in respect of ourselves, confessing that " it doth not 
 yet appear what we shall be," and only deepening the 
 solemnity which that confession inspires, by the re- 
 collection that " we know that we shall be like Him, 
 
 of 
 
THE NEW HEAVENS AND THE NEW EARTH. 47 
 
 for we shall 
 
 ith the lik( 
 
 lall 
 
 en 
 
 of 
 
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 like 
 
 lod 
 
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 re- 
 
 Lim, 
 
 3 Him as He is ; " even so, 
 awe and hope, must we muse on tlie wondrous pur- 
 poses of God respecting our destined haV)itation. Is 
 this earth, even now, in modes so diversitied, formed 
 by Divine power and wisdom and heneficence, to 
 minister not only to the manifold necessities of man, 
 but to his delight and improvement — not merely to his 
 physical enjoyment, but to the cultivation of his in- 
 tellectual powers, and of his moral sentiments and 
 affections ; has even the sin of man, and the disorder 
 which that sin has introduced, been forbidden to do 
 more thaTi imx'paiv the exquisite adaptation of external 
 nature to the physical and intellectual and moral 
 constitution of man ? And shall not the new heavens 
 and the new earth be most marvellously enriched with 
 every grace and treasure, which may render them 
 subservient to the highest well-being of man, when 
 he shall be not merely restored to the primeval son- 
 ship of Adam, but exalted to a far higher sonship in 
 Him who is the firstborn among many brethren ? 
 
 Let us look, then, with all seriousness, at the history 
 of our race, as it is this day presented to us, in its 
 origin and in its ultimate issue. We know, alas, but 
 too well, what man is become by sin ; let us think, 
 with all seriousness, of what God made him at the 
 first, and of the condition to which it is His gracious 
 purpose to exalt him hereafter and for ever. We 
 cannot, if we would, succeed in putting these thoughts 
 
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 48 THE NEW HEAVENS AND THE NEW EARTH. 
 
 from us altogotlior ; tliey concern us individually most 
 deeply, and will at times appeal to us importunately 
 for entertainment. 
 
 We have received our wondrous being, this human 
 nature, from the hands of God ; we are, by nature, 
 involved in the first man's fall ; we are, by God's 
 abundant grace, admitted to partake in the recovery 
 from that fall, which has been wrought by the second 
 Adam. As we cannot separate ourselves from the 
 past, so have we an interest, alike awful and most 
 hopeful, in the future. God would have the individual 
 history of each one amongst us to be an epitome, as 
 of the ruin, so of the blessed rest(jration of our race ; 
 and accordingly we must, if we would truly realize 
 our obligations as moral and responsible beings, alike 
 take to ourselves the shame and sorrow of the past, 
 and embrace the blessed hope which is set before us. 
 
 Let us ask of God, then, to teach us, with all 
 humble and ccmtrite gratitude, to rejoice in His gra- 
 cious word, " Behold, I make all things new." It is His 
 purpose that we should live hereafter in a far higher, 
 a far nobler life than the present; that we should 
 move upon an earth and look up to a heaven which 
 shall far more wondrously " declare His glory " and 
 " show His handiwork " than those which our eyes 
 now behold. He has thus graciously designed to 
 admit us to a far higher sphere of existence, and to 
 provide for us a far more exalted abode. 
 
 w 
 
THE Xl'AV HEAVEXS AXD THi: XEW EARTIF. 4'j 
 
 Lot US, too, n'moinbcr that tlio voice Avirn:li is at 
 the hist to *,'») fortli tVoni tlie tlirono of (Jod, "Buhohl, 
 I make all thiiiL;s new," lias, in a certain sense, loni,' 
 since heen uttered, and that with powei*. God's new 
 creation is not a thing simply future; it is a woik 
 already begmi. We shall do well to note how Holy 
 Scripture employs the selfsame terms to denote alik< 
 the bei^anniii;;' and the consummation of this blessed 
 work of restoration. Our Lonl speaks of the tim*- 
 when He shall hereaftei' sit on the throne of His Ljl(»r\', 
 as " the >V'7/'/ir>v^//(>/t ;" yet regeneration is a gift not 
 sim{)ly future, for ever since the redeeming work of 
 our Lord was perfected by His death, resurrection, ami 
 ascension, men have been savod, in Him, 'by the lavcr 
 of t'cf/enerdfioti.'' So, again, S. Paul re{)resents the 
 whole creation, and even them, who have the first- 
 fruits of the Spirit, together with it, as waiting, with 
 painful expectation, "for the lulopfion, to wit, tlw 
 redemption of our body ;" yet there is an adoption, 
 which they who are Christ's have already received, 
 in Him. 
 
 So, again, S. Peter tells us of a " last time, in which 
 salvidioit is ready to be revealed," for which salvation 
 Christians are now being " kept by the power of Cod 
 through faith;" yet 8(dvation is spoken of, in passages 
 innumerable, as a Ixmefit already received, And so, 
 once more, our Lord Himself says, speaking of tli<* 
 time of His second coming, " When these things begin 
 
 E 
 
 !li 
 
 h I. 
 
 I f 
 
 'i 
 
I 
 
 50 T//E NFAV HEAVENS AND THE NEW EARTH. 
 
 to conio to pass, then look up, and lift np your heads ; 
 for your rademytion draweth nigh ;" yet we are told 
 that " (v^hrist hatli redeemed us from the curse of tlie 
 law," and tliat " Ave ivere not redeejued with corru[)tible 
 tilings, as silver and gold, but with the precious blood 
 of Clirist." 
 
 Yet here are no contradictions or discrepancies ; 
 for regeneration, and adoption, and salvation, and 
 redemption, are merciful processes of grace, even now 
 taking effect upon the nature of man, which are yet 
 to be consummated hereafter. 
 
 And most deeply does it concern us all to note the 
 method by which it has pleased Almighty God to 
 Avork in our restoration — how and where the V>lessed 
 work begins, what portion of our complex nature is 
 first affected by it. Our life, as Christians upon earth, 
 could be in no sense a time of probation were God's 
 order changed ; we could not possibly, so far as we 
 can understand, be subjected to that gracious dis- 
 cipline, whereby the true likeness to our Lord is to 
 be wrought within us, if our redemption were at once 
 bestowed in all its fulness. If in the instance of our 
 Blessed Lord Himself suffering was of necessity to 
 precede, and on it the glory was to follow, how could 
 we possibly look to tread another path than His, and 
 to inherit the rich external blessing before w^e had 
 been taught to cherish and hold fast the precious 
 inward bii"thri'dit ? So are we made liere the sons 
 

 THE NEW HE AVE XS AND THE NEW EARTH. 5 I 
 
 of God- -sons "for the manifestation of whom tlic 
 earner.t expectation of the creature " must " wait " 
 until the end of all things. 
 
 We are here called to bear within ourselves the 
 priceless treasure of adoption, while '1 ♦' outward man 
 presents to the VvOrld no token cf our oossession of 
 this privilege. It is in mind, in ;snul, m spirit, that 
 the Divine image is first to be renewed. This portion 
 of the great work belongs to this present time; an«l 
 however this "creation in Christ Jesus unto cfood 
 works " mav contain within itself even now the trerm 
 and the sure pledge of the complete renewal whicli 
 is hereafter to be realized, yet that perfect consum- 
 mation can find no place below. The good fight nmst 
 first be fought, the course finished, the faith kept unto 
 the end. Nor, even then, shall the hour have come. 
 " The souls of the faithful are," indeed, " after they 
 arc delivered from the burden of the flesh, in joy an*! 
 felicity with God ; " but till the number of His elect- 
 is accomplished, the " eternal and everlasting glory " 
 is not revealed. 
 
 I>et us ever cherish the remembrance of the voice 
 wlijch hi.s surely gone fortli — "the voice of the Lord, 
 mighty in operation;" "the voice of the Lord," which 
 is ''a glorious v-oice.' Let us strive to lealizo tlu- 
 sacred name which tliat voice has named upon us ; 
 let us strive to prove ourselves faithful members of 
 Christ, loving and obedient children of God, heirs. 
 
 m 
 
 .! 11. 
 
 ( \v\ 
 
 
 Iii:i 
 
"f" 
 
 IF !l 
 
 52 rilK XEW HEAVENS AND THE hEAV EARTIL 
 
 through a hope deeply and lialntiially cherished, •»!' 
 His everlastinn; kinmlom. If our nirxcnt salvation 
 hecomes to us a reality — a thing believed, experienced, 
 recognized with growing intei'est, Avith deeper thank- 
 Julness — then shall we be learning from day to day to 
 anticipate, witlr livelier expectation, the future and 
 complete .salvation, both in body and sou], which shall 
 he revealed in the great day, when He that sittetli 
 upon the throne shall speak His final word of power, 
 '■ J>ehold, I make all things new." Then "God shall 
 wipe away all tears from their eyes ; and there shall 
 l)e no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neith«T 
 shall there be any more pain : for the former things 
 shall have passed awav." 
 
 . I 
 

 1 1? 
 
 SERMON V. 
 Preached in Thinity College Chapel. 
 
 For Qninquafjesiina Sunday. 
 
 1 CoiiiNTiiiA.Ns xiii. 13. — "And now abideth faith, hope, charity, 
 these three ; but the greatest of these is charity." 
 
 S. Paul, in reproving the exaggerated opinion which 
 many members of the C(jrinthian Church entertained 
 respecting the impt^rtance of the extraordinary gifts 
 of the Spirit and the ill-judged and disorderly exlii- 
 hition which they made at times of those gifts very 
 seasonably and impressively directs their attention to 
 other gifts of Cod in Christ, wliicli they had not 
 leai-ned to esteem as they ought; and, after his in- 
 imitable tlescri[»tion of the crowning grace of h)ve, 
 which we liAve heard in the Epistle for this day, li*- 
 ])"ints •)ui" th^- transitory nature of the gifts whieli so 
 eitLgros-Mjd the admiration of the (•liurcli at (*orinth, 
 smd tlje enduring, abiding eliaracter of those moral 
 grace- ich were held by it in comparatively small 
 csteeiBi. 
 
 " Faith, and hope, and charity aJjuO','' says he In 
 
 l\ 
 
 ill 
 
 li 
 111 
 
 II 
 
 vb 
 
\Wr 
 
 54 
 
 CHARITY THE GREATEST. 
 
 tlio text. Tt has been questioned what kind of per- 
 manence the apostle assigns to these i^Taces ; wliether 
 he means that they arc to endure for ever, or whether 
 he speaks only of their abiding with us throughout 
 tlie whole course of the Churcli's warfai'C upon earth. 
 His language is, perhaps, intentionally obscure, as the 
 Church may not have been prepared in his day to 
 contemplate the cessation of miraculous powers and 
 till' withdrawal of extraordinary gifts; and it is 
 l>ri)])able that, to those to whom his Epistle was 
 ])iimarily addressed, the abiding character of the 
 tlu-ee great Christian virtues, as distinguished from 
 miraculous gifts, would have indicated that they, and 
 tlun' alone, sliould remain in a hiiiher state when 
 "that which is perfect" should have "come," and 
 ulieii they should see "face to face." Interpreters of 
 Holy Scrj])ture, however, living after the cessation 
 of miraculous gifts, have not unnaturally argued that 
 faitli. and hope, and love are described as abiding 
 with the Church only until the end of her earthly 
 warfare ; and they have observed that in the life to 
 '•ome faith and hope can have no place, faith being 
 lost in sight, and "the hope that is seen" being no 
 longer hope, and, accordingly, that the love, of which 
 the apostUi had said above that it " never failetli," can 
 alone abide for ever. We may readily acc^uiesce in 
 this interpretation as being i)ractically correct, for 
 in the life to come the primary objects of omv present 
 
1 1 
 
 CHARITY THE GREATEST. 
 
 55 
 
 faith will be realized to them that shall have endured 
 unto the end. The OTeat thin«]:s for which the Chris- 
 tian is taught to hope here will then, in some sort at 
 least, be his in possession ; he will be invited to tnjotj 
 rather than to ex[}cd, to behold rather than to bi'l'ieve. 
 
 We should, however, be careful to observe that 
 the apostle by no means affirms here that faith and 
 hope will ever absolutely cease. We must bear in 
 mind that our popular language on this point cannot 
 be regarded as expressing anything more than a pious 
 opinion, or a statement which is true relatively to our 
 present more immediate objects of faith and hope. 
 Holy Scripture nowhere tells us that it is possible foi- 
 a created being ahsolutehj to cease from the exercise 
 of faith and hope in the Infinite Creator ; and we 
 know that some great teachers of the Church have 
 regarded these graces as abiding, by a moral necessity, 
 for ever. We are told by one that " man must ever 
 be looking to God with trust and hope, looking ever- 
 more to receive somewhat more from Him, inasmuch 
 as He is good, and has riches inexhaustible, and a 
 kingdom without end, and instruction without 
 limit." * 
 
 We shall not, then, be justified in assuming, as the 
 reason for the superiority of love over faith and hope, 
 that the former is eternal, while the latter are not s(j. 
 Whatever sense we may assign to the word " abideth" 
 
 * Irena3us, ii. , xlvii. (or xxviii. ), 3. 
 
 % 
 
 (■m 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 ji i'l 
 
 M 
 
lir 
 
 56 
 
 CHARITY THE GREATEST. 
 
 in the text, whether we rei^ard it as clenotin^f a limited 
 or an unlimited continuance, such continuance, l)e it 
 wliat it may, is affirmed of the three virtues alike ; 
 and while that equality in respect of duration is 
 affirmed, love is yet said to be the «,aeater. 
 
 Let us ask, then, wherein consists the superiority 
 of love. Surely in this, that, while the other graces 
 may be regarded as the root and stem, love is the 
 flower or the fruit. Love is the consummation of 
 faith and hojie ; iliC]) exist for the sake of love, not 
 Uiv.v for their sake. Let us inquire how this is, re- 
 membering that love, which is the fulfilling of the 
 law, is the love both of God and of man. First, then, 
 h)ve towards God is the consummation of faith and 
 ho])e in God, and therefore greater than they. This 
 may readily be seen. Do we believe in God — in His 
 groat goodness to us, in His merciful jourposes con- 
 cerning us ? and, again, do we so recognize our de- 
 })endence upon Him, our interest in His purposes 
 concerning us, as that our faith awakens ho2)e within 
 us, and teaches us to deslve, as well as to trust, God's 
 promises ? Do we not, under these conditions, feel 
 that God requires of us, and that we, for our own 
 happiness, must yield to Him, something more, 
 something better, than faith and ho])e ; that the 
 one is but a barren intellectual act, destitute of any 
 moral excellence Avhatever, that the other is but a 
 .selfish longing for our own good, till love breathes 
 
CHARITY THE GREATEST. 
 
 57 
 
 into them its celestial spirit, and clothes them with 
 its heavenly light, binding ns to our Great Maker 
 and Benefactor by its sacred bond, and teaching us, 
 l>y the grace of that Holy Spirit, -whose gift it is, to 
 cry, " Abba, Father " ? 
 
 Whether we look to the glory of God or to the 
 ha])piness of man, we must undoubtingly admit that, 
 while faith, hope, anJl charity ever abide in all our 
 intercourse with heaven, the greatest of these is 
 charity. 
 
 But, again, if we regard charity as the love of our 
 brethren, here also we may perceive that it is the 
 result of faith and hope — their glorious development, 
 their excellent fruit. As faith and hope in God 
 load to love for God, so are faith and hope in God 
 the only sure foundation, the only unfailing source 
 o^ Christian love towards men. Belief in our Father 
 in Christ can alone teach us love for our brethren in 
 Christ. The faith and hope which bring us home to 
 God, bring us near to one another ; in Him we see 
 ourselves akin to each other, and Ave discern also thti 
 sacred nature of this relationshi[), the awful responsi- 
 bilities which are involved in it. 
 
 It is our apprehension of the relation in which 
 God has consented to stand to man which .ilone 
 discovers to us our real relation to each other. \Vc 
 must learn to say, " Our Father," ere we can say, 
 " We are brethren." And if, again, we look from the 
 
 :H! 
 
w 
 
 U 
 
 
 H !■ 
 
 ;8 
 
 CHARITY THE GREATEST. 
 
 Katlior to the Son, fnjin iiiiii to wlioni we Ikave Ijeen 
 broujjflit niiih to Him who brought us nij^'h, and 
 observe how He exemplified, in His human nature 
 and in His life on earth, tlic love wliich we ou^dit 
 to bear towards the brethren, does it not most clearly 
 appeal' that our faith in Christ, our hope in Him, arc 
 indeed the \q.yy root and source of all Christian 
 charity ? We are instructed that Chiist, our Re- 
 deemer and our Life, loved not in our [)Oor im2)erfect 
 manner — loving, as we naturally <lo, for our own petty 
 ends, not for the sake of the person loved ; choosing a 
 few, in respect of whom w^e may indulge the delight 
 of affection or of friendship; not exhibiting to the 
 many an impartial and self-denying charity. We are 
 taught that He loved all, sought the good of all ; that 
 He loved the helpless, the ignorant, the dull, the 
 wayward, the ungrateful, the sordid; that He loved 
 all, because they Avere men whom God willed to be 
 saved ; loved all, not from complacency in what they 
 were, but for wdiat His love might make them. 
 Where shall we learn a wide and profound philan- 
 thropy, if not from the example and from the doctrine 
 of Christ ? And are not, then, our faith and hope in 
 Him the living and effectual source of love towards 
 man ? Again, if we look to Christian charity, as it 
 was discovered in the conduct of the apostles of 
 Christ, do we not see that it was a new outgrowth 
 from a new faith and hope, to which men had been 
 
 
wmm 
 
 ClfARITY 771E GREATEST. 
 
 begotten in Mini ^ Wluit was the principle of tliat 
 love which S. Paul discovered towards his unhclieviiii; 
 and persecuting brethren according to the flesh, 
 towards his erring^ and uni^Tateful children in the 
 gospel, save the fjiith of which he spoke when he 
 said, " T know whom I have ])elieved," the hope of 
 which he said, " We were saved by hope " ? 
 
 But, again, we may observe another mode in 
 which faith and hope are subservient to the develop- 
 ment of Christian charity. Without this faith and 
 liope man is poor indeed, and feels miserably the 
 narrowinix, hardenin<^ results of his indiwnce. He 
 cannot, as he thinks, afford to love his neighbour as 
 himself; he nuist not permit his ease to be dis([uieted, 
 his means impaired, his time engrossed, his purposes 
 deranged, by a regard to the necespities of others. 
 Who is so utterly, so systematically selfish, as the 
 man who puts from him deliberately the f\iith and 
 hope of the gosjicl, and strives to exist on the 
 wretched f^iiths and hopes which are to be found 
 elsewhere ? But let a man cordially embrace the 
 promises of God in Christ, and his heart is at once 
 enlarcjed ; he bei^ins to understand somethinuf of the 
 meaning!: of the wondrous words, " All thing's are 
 yours," to have some conception of treasures which 
 are not impaired but augmented by being shared 
 with others ; and he feels that, with these treasures 
 in prospect, he may well be content to relinquish 
 
 n 
 
 (■ 
 
 ' Ml 
 
 (i 
 
IT 
 
 ^mwi 
 
 60 
 
 CirARITY THE GR LATEST. 
 
 [)res(3nt liopcs and Interests, or rather that he nni^i 
 make tlie ;^n*eat future sure, by tradini,^ witli tlie 
 ])resent for his Lord's gh^ry and for his brother's 
 good. 
 
 Christian faitli and hope are, then, the root, tlio 
 source, the spring of h)ve to God an<l of love to man. 
 Tln-oughout our course on earth tliere a]»ide witli 
 US, in tlui Chureli of God, these tliree ])rccious gifts 
 of faith, hope, and cliarity ; but tlie greatest of thes<' 
 is cliarity. And, if this be so, liow careful should we 
 be t' seek the possession of that crowning grace, to 
 which the others stand in the relation of means to an 
 end! We often say, "I hcUcrc in God" — we may, 
 perhaps, sincerely avow that we have }io])e in God — 
 ])ut do we not feel that it is somethinn; far more to 
 speak or to think of lorinfj God i 
 
 Yet, what is faith without love but a dead faith ^ 
 and what is liope Avithout love but a selfish, earthly 
 hope ? Is it not, indeed, a fearful thing to believe 
 God's truth without love of Plim, to liope, without 
 love of God, for God's mercy ? There "would seem 
 to 1)0 in I'aith and in hope, even when directed to 
 heavenly objects, both an earthly and a heavenly 
 element ; but Christian love is wholly from above. 
 If faith and hope result in love, love makes them 
 spiritual and heavenly; but if love be wanting, they 
 are but of the earth, earthv. 
 
 But, again, how careful should we be to '^eek the 
 
CHARITY THE GREATEST, 
 
 6l 
 
 j^rac'*' of love tovvcanls man I It is posslMo that we 
 sliould say in our licarts, "I love God," and y(^t ho 
 deccivini^ oursolvt's, Vxicausc we love not man. Let 
 us never t'orixct tl)e heart-search iuLT words of S. John, 
 "He tliat loveth not Ids l)rother, wliom lie hath seen, 
 how can he love CJod, whom he hath not seen ? And 
 this eomniandment have we from Him, that he who 
 loveth (iod love his hmther also." There is (Xv^^y 
 wisdom here. The love of man is first s[)(>ken of, as 
 if it must lead the way to the love of God ; and, ai^ain, 
 the love of God is recog'nizetl as the source (jf the 
 love of man. Is it that the imjjcrfect, unfoi'ined love 
 of man first leads as upward towards the love of God, 
 and then that the love of God teaches us to love man 
 far more, far better? There is a wondi'ous law of 
 reciprocation here, and nature and grace seem both 
 to have their part in the mystery. Grace purifies 
 and elevates our natural earthly affections, and 
 through them leads us up t(» the love of God; and 
 then the love of God and the knowledge of God, 
 which that love alone can give, teach us in turn the 
 highest and the })ui'est love for man. Nor let us 
 forget that the duties prescribed by the first and the 
 second tables of the law are thus inseparably blended 
 and knit together; for a man may mij, "T love God," 
 and it may be nothing more than '"oiy'ii'g: but let 
 him love his brother for God's sake, and then it is 
 love indeed, both for God and for man. So, with 
 
62 
 
 CHARITY THE GREATEST. 
 
 a j^'lancc heavenward, with a consciousness of Gotl, 
 with a rcinenil»r.'ince of the Redeemer and of His 
 great woi-k lor man, a patient tli-oiujld res[)ecting 
 another, a kind n'ord uttered in forbearance, a kind 
 act done, hoping for notliing again, is tlie best token 
 wliieh we can give that we hjve God. Tlie second 
 commandment is like unto tlie tirst. The first must 
 teach us how to keep the second, and then, in keeping 
 the secoml, wo shall bo surely kee])ing the first. God 
 must be loved with all our heart, and then man as 
 ourselves, because God with all our heart. " He that 
 loveth God must love his brother also." 
 
 Thus, then, is love the outgrowth of faith and hope, 
 and so the greatest of the three — the end and perfection 
 of the other two. And, if this be so, we need not too 
 curiously in(piire whether faith and hope are to be 
 regarded as pertaining exclusively to the kingdom of 
 grace, or as having their place also in the kingdom of 
 glory. Foi", in the latter case, love must yet ever be 
 increasing, while faith and hope still minister to her; 
 love ever receiving, whilst they enrich her by their 
 virtue ; love ever widening her domain, while theirs 
 is narrowinix. Faith will a^ain and ag-ain see her 
 objects realized ; hope will be again and again fulfilled ; 
 while love will still say, " It is finished," and delight 
 herself in the majesty and beneficence of God. And 
 so, perchance, it may be for ever, faith evermore 
 becoming more assured and hope more buoyant, as 
 
 i ; « ■ I,' 
 
CHARITY THE GREATEST. 
 
 C3 
 
 lovo waxes ini;:^flity and makes tliem, in their turn, 
 drink into lier spirit. 
 
 Or, jtercliunce, tliere may l)e a time, liive that which 
 ^vas once on the ]\rt)unt of Transfiguration, when tlie 
 Incarnate Love Ifiins<-lf' was seen in gh)ry, with Moses 
 and Klias, types of the faith and hope of earlier days; 
 hut " wlien the voice was past," tlie two who had 
 talked Avith Him, wlio had nunistered to Him and 
 liad ])repai'ed His way, were seen no more, and '"Jesus 
 was found alone." J]ven so tlie two lesser virtues ma\' 
 some time disappear, no more place heing found for 
 them, and love alone remain, their fulfilment and their 
 perfection, rejoicing in the finishing of the mystery dl" 
 God, in the lifting of the last veil, in the accomplish- 
 ment of the uttermost ])romise. 
 
i 1' 
 
 ii: 
 
 SERMON VT. 
 
 
 Preached in Trinity College Chapel. 
 
 For the First i^anday in Lent. 
 
 Genesis xix. 14.— "But lie seemed as one that mocked unto 
 
 his sons-in-hiw. " 
 
 " SEAnriT tlic Scriptures" was our Lord's empliatic 
 admonition to the Jews, Avho knew indeed those Serij>- 
 tures, yet knew tlieni not ; knew them as tlie oracles 
 of God delivered to their fathers, to be treasured witli 
 pride and regarded with reverence, yet knew them 
 not as tlie result of patient and liundjle incpiiry 
 ]-especting the mysteries which tliey commend to mans 
 faith, and tlie duties which tliey jirescribe for liis 
 observance. Tlie more we acfpiaint ourselves with tlie 
 Word of C!od, the more shall Ave be assured that it is 
 a record to be sea re lied, not only because it contains 
 invaluable truths, l)ut also because it contains very 
 nuich truth, many a lesson of godly Avisdom, whicli 
 will by no means yield itself up to the feeble effort of 
 the superficial and listless inquirer. Care and close 
 attention are, indeed, often required in the study of 
 
THE POWERLESS A FEE A L. 
 
 65 
 
 
 otlicr books; but the object of an ordinary writer is to 
 make his meaning at once patent and obvious to all ; 
 and more especially do writer's of narrative or history 
 involuntarily, as it were, call attention to the motives 
 whicli they suppose to have influenced the con(hict of 
 those of whom they write, and to the results which 
 have followed from that conduct. Nothing is more 
 natural than to suLi^cjest the moral of the drama as its 
 course is traced, and to comm(;nd to the reader the 
 great lessons which its events should teach them. 
 Here it is that tlie Word of God differs remarkably 
 from other writings. While the aim of its narratives 
 is pre-eminently moral teaching, it yet generally leaves 
 the application to its readers ; and, moreover, it often 
 leaves them also to collect or to infer the facts from 
 which tliat ap[)lication is to be deduced. Such is the 
 case in the instance before us. The text tells us that 
 when Lot warned his sons-in-law of the approaching 
 overthrow of Sodom, " he seemed unto them as one 
 that mocked;" and it Avill readily appear that the lesson 
 which we are to learn from the fact here stated will 
 depend very materially on the estimate; which we foi'm 
 of the charact(M's both of the speaker and of those to 
 whom he addressed himself One very irnportant 
 question is, " Where did the fault lie ? " — how came 
 it to pass that so solennv a w^arning was so utterly 
 fruitless? If the fault were on one side only, the 
 admonitory teaching of the text is not so [iregnant as 
 
 F 
 
 ,f 
 
'm 
 
 ^ 
 
 66 
 
 THE POWERLESS APPEAL. 
 
 it will prove to be, if the sad result were the conse- 
 quence of error on both sides ; and, again, if the sons- 
 in-law of Lot are alone to blame, the lesson to be learnt 
 from their awful calamity will ditfer i:^reatly, and 
 demand a widely diti'erent application, as we adopt 
 different views of tlieir character and of tn*' principles 
 by which they were governed. Of Lot lumself the 
 Old Testament records very little wliich would (3nable 
 us to form a favourable estimate of liis character ; the 
 circumstances to his advantage being liis accompanying 
 Abraham from Haran to the land of promise ; his 
 hospitality, as it was discovered in his ui'gent appeal 
 to the an<cels to take shelter beneath his roof; and his 
 noble courage, proved by his resolution to ])rotect them 
 in that asylum froui insult and injur}^ Tiie Scriptures 
 of the New Testament, liowever, teacli us to attribute 
 to him excellence of a higher character. Thoy s[)oak 
 of him as "just Lot, vexed with the filthy conversation 
 of the wicked ; " they declare that " that righteous man 
 dwelling amonii" them, vexed his righteous soul from 
 day to day with theii* unlawful deeds " {t Peter ii. 7, 8); 
 and we must C(tnse([uently infer that, when he followed 
 the footsteps of his great relative, he did o in a spirit 
 akin to his— that he had resolved toclir.g to one whom 
 God luid siniiled out IVom auKjni'' maukind to be the 
 depositary of l[is truth and of ilis }'romises ; and 
 that when, subsecpiently, in an evil hour, he broke off 
 his more intimate relations with Abraham, he still 
 
THE POWERLESS APPEAL. 
 
 67 
 
 t< 
 
 retained hi .Ilogi.ance to the God of Abraham, resolv- 
 inix to Hcrve Him, thou^rh in the midst of i^nievous and 
 self-chosen temptations, which couhl not but embitter 
 his life, if they did not undermine his constancy, or 
 taint the purity of his moral princi[)les and perceptions. 
 
 We see in Lot, therefore, a good man, who had un- 
 happily consented to assume and to retain a position 
 of gi"eat spiritual danger — not merely distressing to 
 himself, but most prejudicial to his intluence for good 
 with others, who could but ill appreciate the strife 
 within liim, between the s})irit of holy faith and obe- 
 dience which he had never ceased to retain, and those 
 far lower and unworthy motives under the influence 
 of wdiich he was induced to im[)eril all which he held 
 most precious. He was a holy and a righteous man, 
 yet was he one of whom it might be rea<lily inferred 
 that he made no great account of holiiit'ss and rigliteous- 
 ness; and, conse(]uently, he was one who could not, 
 with [)owerful effect, commend holiness and righteous- 
 ness to others. 
 
 And of the sons-in-law of Lot w hat estiuiatt! are 
 we to form ? All that we know of them diiectly is, 
 that the}' regarded Lot "as one tliat mocked" wlieii 
 he warned them of the impending desti'uetion of 
 Sodom, and we niay hence infer that they had but 
 little sym])athy with Lot's better nature, that they 
 were not so keenly grieved at sin as he was, not so 
 prepared as he was, b)/ the forebodings of conscience, 
 
r 
 
 68 
 
 THE PO WERT. ESS A /'PEAL. 
 
 i I 
 
 to give car to tho tidings of its iini)eii(li)ig ])unislimeiit. 
 It must Ijc ]eiii(.'in]>LTed, also, tli.'i.t tlie evidence on 
 vvhicli Lot liad given cre(lence to tlie solemn com- 
 munication which the angels liad made to liiui, might 
 have fui-nished to these men also sutticient grounds for 
 receiving his testimony. Though they were not eye- 
 witnesses of the supernatural occurrences of whicli 
 Lot was personally cognizant, they might yet have 
 readily satisfied themselves of their truth ; and, indeed, 
 it can scarcely be imagined that S(jme rumour of tlu; 
 judgment inilicted hy the heaveidy visitants should 
 have failed to reach their ears. They could have had, 
 therefore, but little in common with their father-in- 
 hiw, viewed as the righteous man, the servant of God, 
 They w^ould look upon the strange things that had 
 come to ^ass with other eyes than his. On the other 
 hand, w liould proba-bly be guilty of a very serious 
 error in classing them with the })rofane and dissolute 
 inhabitants of the city in which they dwelt. Lot, we 
 may well believe, would not have consented to receive 
 into his family men who bore the fearful im])ress of 
 the place ; and beside this, we may observe that the 
 angels purposed to save them, mentioning them ex- 
 pressly in the announcement of their merciful intent ; 
 and, again, it would appear that Abraham, in his 
 intv^rcessory ])ray(r, ventured to include these men in 
 the number of the teit rlghteou.^ who, as he hoped, 
 might be found in iSc Jou.\. Hiey were not, then, open 
 
THE POWERLESS APPEAL. 
 
 69 
 
 • II 
 
 or rrrievoiis ofU'iiders ; tlit'V would rank, in man's 
 regard, w itli flic conntarativoly virtuous iaiiiily of Lot, 
 rather than witli tlie corrupt mass anMU 1 tliciu. \ivt 
 us ask, then, how it came to pass that tlicy received 
 Lot's messai^e as they did ] And iirst, from wliat 
 fault in themselves? We may safely assume tliat 
 Lot's <j;reat error liad been an undue devotion to his 
 Worldly interests: and is it not most natural that, in 
 the case of those whom Ids example ami advice had 
 }»robal)ly restrained fi'om tlan'rant oifenccs, liis own 
 f^i'c^i defect of character should he re})roduced in an 
 afrgravated form; tliat, imbilnng from him much 
 which was good, they should too surely im!)i])e that 
 inordinate k)ve of wealth, that devotion to secular 
 advancement, which had been sutiered to warp tlie 
 M'hole course of liis life, and to rob it alike of its 
 comfort and of its honour ? With liim it was, ap- 
 parently, a superinduced disease of mature life, whicli 
 did not fatally overgrow his higher and ])ui'er prin- 
 ciples of acti(m ; but with them it A\'ould be a second 
 nature, unconsciously adopted at a vc;ry early age, 
 and never brouij-ht into marked antai-'onism Avitl; 
 higher hopes aiivl fV-ars, as no doubt it must have be "U 
 in the case of one who, like Lot, had enjoyed the 
 societv, and had been instructed bv the examine of 
 Abraham. We see, then, in these men, decent, respect- 
 able men of the world; not vicious mm oi- men of 
 violence, but pre-cminentl}' iivrhUi/ men — men whose 
 
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 THE POWERLESS APPEAL. 
 
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 belief was that there was a God who made them to 
 live hare, to acquire and enjoy the good things of this 
 life, to propose to themselves honourable earthly aims 
 or lawfid tem])oral gratifications — men who were 
 quite content Avith, quite absorbed in, the present ; 
 who had chosen deliberately not to look beyond the 
 present until they had lost the power of doing so. 
 
 The sons-in-law of Lot could, no doubt, have 
 given very weighty reasons for the strong, absorbing 
 interest which they took in the plain of Jordan. That 
 which was " as the i^^arden of the Lord" was no doubt 
 an eiirtlily Paradise to them : of those who bou^-ht, 
 and sold, and planted, and builded in those days, they 
 were ])robal)ly neither the least enterprising nor the 
 least successful. 
 
 How very strange, then, how very unwelcome, 
 amid the grateful recollections of i)ast prosperity, the 
 allurements of present enjoyment, the anticipations 
 of future exertion and advancement, nuist have been 
 the sudden announcement of Lot, that Go<l was about 
 to overwhelm, in utter ruin, the tri^asiu'e-house of all 
 their possessions, the scene of all their delights, the 
 field of all their hopeful enterprises; and that His 
 special mercy was inviting them to escape for their 
 lives, and go forth, Avith thankful alacrrity, as canfort- 
 lesa and destitute wandeiers. Could anv man have 
 believed tliis message if he wei'e not most deeply 
 persuaded of God's moral government of the world, 
 
THE rOlVERLESS APPEAL, 
 
 ;i 
 
 of man's proLation here, of the subserviency of the 
 material to the moral creation, and thus of the awful 
 probability that even the enchanting Jiicene before 
 them, enriched alike by nature and by the art and 
 industry of man, might b(; made a perpetual desolation, 
 for the wickedness of them that dwelt therein ? Let 
 us ask ourselves whether we know nothing of tliis 
 unbelieving s}>irit of the world which was discovered 
 l)y the sons-in-law of Lot. No great wonder was it 
 that men such as Ave have supposed them to be should 
 have been inca[)able of receiving tliat strange word of 
 warninii' and threatenini"' ; far more cause is there for 
 wonder that the same temper of mind should teach 
 men to refuse also those words of God which address 
 themselves to our hopes rather than to our fears ; 
 which tell us of His abundant mercy, not of His dread 
 displeasure. Yet the worldly spirit, the carnal mind, 
 I'ejects all truth which lies beyond its own narrow 
 s[)here. Alan Avas made, it suggests, for tinu^ Ibr tiiis 
 world, for present aims and occupations, and beytjnd 
 this it will not consent to look. This little life is 
 all in all to it. It conceives it to be an aim, fully 
 conunensurate with man's facidties and with man's 
 aspirations, that he should seek to amass and enjoy 
 a splendid fortune, to make himself a great name by 
 talent or by courage, to secure for himself the pos- 
 session of power or the distinctions of rank; all these 
 UUsubstantial ami liUf^tH-l'lc advantages, or things even 
 
 \ 
 
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72 
 
 THE POWERLESS APPEAL. 
 
 W 
 
 far loss substantial, less enduring, than these, are 
 regarded as the realities which man is to prize and 
 to pursue ; and so any teaching of (iod's Word which 
 is incompatible with this narrow and purblind esti- 
 mate of man's duty and interest, any doctrine which 
 points to a higher destiny hereai'ter, to a higlier rule 
 of life here, is regarded but as a delusive dream, and 
 he who would venture to become its exponent, seems, 
 to the votary of the world, but " as one that mocketh." 
 And here we are liable to be greatly deceived by 
 the passive assent whicli the majority of mankind 
 give, under existing circumstances, to Christian truth. 
 They recognize externally that which they do not by 
 any means believe ; they consent not to deny truths 
 on the belief of which they would never consent to 
 act. Thus a !nan may attend the services of the 
 Church, inay even partake of her sacraments, while 
 there is not in reality any article of the Christian 
 faith which he is prepared to admit in its d(jctiinal 
 and })ractical application to himself These truths lie 
 far In yond the range of his visioji, the sct)[)e of his 
 philosophy ; they stand in marked contrast to those 
 shadows which he accounts to be realities; and there- 
 fore, awful realities though the^' be, they are to him 
 but empty shadows. He can scaicdy believe that they 
 are more than shadows to any other intellig<'nt being ; 
 he would not lightly charge guileless men with 
 conscious hypocrisy ; but, at all events, they seem to 
 
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THE POWERLESS APPEAL. 
 
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 \\\w\ "as'> one that mocketli " wiioii tlu^y seriously urge 
 upon liiiii tlie duty of cmbracini:^- (Jliristian doctiines. 
 or of oLeyini,^ tlie precepts ol'Clnist. 
 
 But, again, liad Lot nothing with wliicli to re- 
 i)roach himself when he failed to })ersuade liis sons- 
 in-law to leave Sodom ? They were themselves 
 ill prepared to receive his message;, but was he pre- 
 pared efficiently to communicate it ^ The word of 
 warnin;-' mi<dit have fallen on a closed ear, but was 
 it uttered by an unfaltering tongue ? They might 
 not, they probably would not, have listened had 
 Abraham spoken ; but could they so lightly, so com- 
 placently, have rejected }iis message ? Must they not 
 have admitted, had he spoken, that he was acting at 
 least a consistent part, crowning at length, by a final 
 announcement of impending destruction, many a word 
 of foreboding apprehension which he had uttered 
 before ? If he had said to them before, " I should 
 dread to live where you are living;" "I shoid<l fear 
 both the sin which you witness and the punishment 
 which must follow it;" "Will the bolt spare your 
 heads if you choose to dwell in the midst of those at 
 whom it must be levelled ? " — if he had spoken thus 
 ))efore — and thus he might naturally and consistently 
 have spoken — then might he also have said at the 
 Itti^lL, yn]\\\ /dl the cogeut earnejstncss of honest con- 
 viction, " Qo forth at once, for God lias shown me that 
 the vengeance, so long expected, is now at hand." 
 
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 7///-; rOlVERLESS APrEAL, 
 
 But Lot could not, in past days, possil)ly have spoken 
 thus. If lie had his fears that the signal wickedness 
 of th(! cities of the plain must provoke some' signal 
 punishment, he must have suppressed those fears, tor 
 they would have condemned his continued sojourn in 
 a place whicli he felt to be a special ol»ject of the 
 divine displeasure. Such feai's nnist ha\ e toM niiii 
 that he was tempting God, by asking or expecting 
 His j>rotection while he himself chose not to consult 
 his own safety ; and, acc(jrdingly, he must have silenced 
 these unwelcome a})2)rehensions, refusing to listen to 
 them himself, and, conse([uently, absolutely precluded 
 from even whispering them to others. So far as 
 others were aware, he would have known no such 
 fear ; no gloomy ap})rehension would ever have 
 crossed his mind until, on this fatal night, as his sons- 
 in-law mii-ht imauine, the violence to which he had 
 been exposed had utterly unnerved him, and had 
 induced him to conceive that some fearful catastrophe 
 must be at hand. Lot's voluntary sojourn ibr many 
 years in Sodom, his return thither after his captivity 
 — which captivity he might well have interpreted as 
 a divine monition to depart — had robbed his testi- 
 mony on this occasion of the weight Avhicli would 
 otherwise have attached to it. The mercy which 
 vouchsafed to brinj"' him forth out of the overthrow 
 was a strange, unlooked-for mercy ; and so far as he 
 felt that he had ill deserved this forbearance of God — 
 
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THE POWERLESS APPEAL. 
 
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 that lio liad plactMl lilmsclf woll-iiiL;li l^yond the reach 
 of this mercy — so far also must he linvc felt that he 
 was sadiy (lis(|ualifie(l to hear to h.is soiis-in-law the 
 Rtivange 'idiuL^s tljat it was God's pui'pose forthwith 
 to destroy tlio city, l)ut to make for liimself and for 
 them a w.^y of rscipe out of the tcri-ihle ovcilhrow. 
 
 Lot us, then, take this lesson liome to ourselves. 
 There are times at wliich we have to spe.'ik solemn 
 words in God's belmlf. Any oue of us may he called 
 upon to do so aufain and arain. Tt uiav become our 
 duty to a])poal to the conscience of some o'rievouH 
 otlender, to endeav(Mir to check a cours(.» of sin in its 
 commencement. We may have occasion to warn the 
 sick or tlie dyiuti; of their higliest duty, to present to 
 them their ordy hope, to set before tliem the sad 
 grounds which exist in their case l)oth for ^rief and 
 for fear. We may be called npon to feel the trem- 
 Itlinix anxietv which Lot must have felt when he went 
 forth, in the darkness of that last ni^lit (;n which the 
 stars were to look down on Sodom, to cari'v t<^ his 
 sons-in-law a message, on their reception of which 
 their life or death — how much more than their life 
 or death ? — depended. And may we not too easily 
 go forth, as he did, ill pre})ar-ed to give utterance t(j 
 the word which (Jod would have us speak ; ill fitted 
 to procure, from the hearts of others, admittance for 
 unwelcome truth ; inade([uate to the biuden of s(jme 
 momentous message which may not be duly borne 
 
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 save by one whom God has strengthened for tlie task, 
 who is girded with such might as can result only 
 from loving obedience, from " patient continuance in 
 well-doing " ? Can we effectually exhort others to 
 receive truths which we do not ourselves cherish, or 
 to practise duties which we ourselv^es fail to observe ? 
 Will not men too readily mark the inconsistency, 
 we might almost say the incoherence, of the language 
 in which we attempt to address them ; and earnest 
 as we may be at the moment to convince and to per- 
 suade, shall we not nevertheless seem to them " as one 
 that mocketh " ? 
 
 This duty may devolve, as I have said, on any of 
 us. Times will come, in the providence of God, when 
 friends and relatives must be under an obligation to 
 discharge, in respect of each other, sucli offices of 
 Christian charity ; but more especially should the 
 ministers of God's Holy Word and sacraments, whose 
 official position demands of them continually the ex- 
 ercise of these offices towards their fellow-men, be 
 ever on their guard, lest aught in their conduct in the 
 world should cast a suspicion upon their sincerity, 
 and lead men to doubt whether they are themselves 
 possessed by a profound persuasion of the truth of 
 Christian doctrines and of the solemnity of religious 
 obli<xations. Nor let us foro-et that there is such a 
 thing as a man's seeming to Mmf^elf "as one that 
 mocketh " in' the discharge of holy duties, in the 
 
THE POWERLESS APPEAL. 
 
 77 
 
 
 expression of Christian feeling, in tlie inculcation of 
 Christian faith or Christian practice. And a man 
 must know something of this wretched self-disti'ust, 
 of this miserable self-contempt, so long as he neglects, 
 humbly and perseveringly, to seek the blessing of 
 " an honest and good heart," of " simplicity and godly 
 sincerity." 
 
 The official character should be grafted on the 
 personal, not merely alUiclicd to it ; there should 
 be a living coherence between the one and the other. 
 It is the imin who is to serve God in the priest's 
 office; it is the Christian nian who i.i to be clothed 
 with the peculiar authority and privilege which ap- 
 pertain to the ministerial function ; it is the man, in 
 body, soul, and spirit, who is to be fitted, by a special 
 gift of God, to serve Him in the ministry of His 
 Church. And except the man be, through God's grace, 
 prepared to render this service, then nmst he too ofter 
 sadly feel that, in the discharge of sacred duties, he 
 is in his ow^n eyes, and in the eyes of men — alas ! 
 in other eyes than those of men — " as one that 
 mocketh." 
 
 Pray we, then, that God may evermore preserve 
 us from following the evil example of the S(jns-in-law 
 of Lot by yielding ourselves up to the deadening 
 influence of a worldly, carnal mind, to that " hardness 
 of heart and contempt of God's Word and connnand- 
 ment " which must be the inevitable, though it may 
 
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 78 
 
 THE POWERLESS APPEAL. 
 
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 II : I 
 
 be in some cases the latent, result of inordinate de- 
 votion to the interests of this present life. 
 
 Let us also entreat God tr spare us such bitter 
 sorrow and shame as Lot must have felt when he saw 
 how utterly powerless were his warnings and en- 
 treaties — such bitter sorrow and shame u,s must follow 
 from inconsistency of conduct, from habitually trifling 
 with convictions of dutj^- ; remembering ever that one 
 most obvious and most painful consecpience of such 
 inconsistency will be the loss of that influence for 
 good which we ought to possess with others — a 
 miserable incapacity to benefit them in matters which 
 we yet feel to be of the highest moment. 
 
 And more especially if we are set in the ministry 
 of Christ's Church, or are seeking to be called to that 
 ministry, let us seriously reflect on the pitiable con- 
 dition of the man who comes with enfeebled hands, 
 with irresolute, unquiet sj)irit, to the discharge of holy 
 functions, conscious of a grievous discrepancy between 
 his official and his personal character, disheartened by 
 the secret conviction that he is not doing God service 
 with good will, and "heavy and displeased" under 
 the apprehension that this must also be open to the 
 observation of others. 
 
 
SERMON VII. 
 Preached in Trinity College Chapel. 
 
 For the Second Sundiy in Lent. 
 
 Hebrews xii. 17. — "Yo know how that afterward, whon he 
 would have inherited the blessing, ho was rejected ; for he 
 found no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully 
 with tears." 
 
 There is no actor, in the scene of sorrow and righteous 
 retribution recorded in the tirst lesson for this Morn- 
 ing, from whose faults and sufferings we may not 
 derive most salutary warning. We may turn alike to 
 Isaac, to Jacob, or to Esau, and r<icognize tlie divine 
 wisdom, which has left us on the sacred page no tale 
 which may merely awaken our sympatliies or excite 
 our interest, but a story " common to man," pi-egnant 
 with deep instruction, frauglit with counsels and 
 cautions of universal import. The charactei's por- 
 trayed in Holy Scripture are, generally speaking, 
 types of large classes of mankind ; and I believe it 
 may be said that they are so universally, in those 
 instances in which they are delineated in detail. 
 
8o 
 
 THE BIRTHRIGHT AND THE BLESSING. 
 
 Some marvellous enigmatical character may serve to 
 add zest to the page of fiction ; but in the Word of 
 God, vritten for our learning, the beauty as well as 
 the utility of tlie narrative consists in its being so 
 simply true to nature, so unerring a reflection of the 
 common sins and infirmities of our fallen humanity. 
 
 Esau's is a character which all must recognize, alike 
 by its defects and by its excellences. A very little 
 knowledge of mankind will teach us how frequently 
 these arc combined in the same individual ; how those 
 good natural gifts which Esau enjoyed are prone to 
 be misused, as he misused them ; how they too often 
 become the occasion of inducinor those grievous errors 
 into which he fell. With many qualities of body and 
 of mind which would commend hiri to the admiration 
 of others, and which had, as it would seem, secured to 
 him the partial affection of his father, he had yet 
 grown up, to all appearance, as irreligious a man as 
 we can well conceive a member of Isaac's household 
 to have been. If we recall to mind the history of that 
 family — Abraham's separation from his idolatrous 
 kinsfolk, his frequent and intimate communion with 
 Heaven, and all the wondrous circumstances which 
 had conspired to mark his chosen son as the depositary 
 of God's promises and of the hopes of the world ; if 
 we reflect how the circumstances of Isaac's birth, and 
 of his marvellous deliverance on Mount ivioriah, must 
 have been the frequent theme of discourse in the 
 
^^ 
 
 THE BIRTHRIGHT AXD THE DLESSIXG. 
 
 8l 
 
 patriarch's household, and how devotion to God's 
 service, and a reverent expectation of the fulfilment of 
 His words of promise must have been thus commended 
 to the hearts of all its meinberp bv the commcm in- 
 stincts of domestic affection — by feeliniij^s, we mi<,dit 
 almost say, of family ])ri(le ; if we duly consider how 
 God had thus graciously enlisted, on the side of pure 
 faith and holy living, even the human sympathies and 
 prejudices of those to whom He had entrusted, in those 
 early days. His covenant with mankind, we sliall the 
 better understand the nature of Esau's transgi-es.ion, 
 in slighting as he did all the holy associations in the 
 midst of which he had grown up, alike allured to the 
 love of goodness by his fathers blameless })urity of 
 life, and shielded, no doubt, by his pious care from 
 contact with the evil around him. 
 
 Jacob, with all his faults of character — and most 
 grievous faults they Avere — seems to have been 
 thoroughly imbued with the peculiar influences of his 
 birth and position. He was, indeed, Abraham's and 
 Isaac's son — an heir thiough hope of the promises 
 vouchsafed to them, though he grievously misappre- 
 hended the means by wliich the attainment of those 
 promises was to be secui'etl. Esau, on the other hand, 
 might have been, to all ap})earance, what he was, 
 had he been born of the children of Heth. So his 
 utter recklessness makes him the ready victim of liis 
 brother's craft. He sold the birthright because li<; 
 
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 THE BIRTHRIGHT AXD THE BLESSING. 
 
 ;,)r 
 
 desjrlfied it, and confirmed the sale by an oath. Little 
 is certainly known respecting the nature of the birth- 
 rii^ht and the blessing, and it is probable that some 
 have indulged their imagination in describing the 
 character of Esau's ofience, f nd tiie consequences which 
 resulted from it. We are told of sacerdotal functions 
 for which Esau felt himself to be unfitted, and of which 
 he was anxious to rid himself; but it may be observed 
 that it is most improbable that such functions would 
 be exercised by the elder son during his father's life- 
 time, and, again, most improbable that, if they were 
 so exercised, the sale of the birthright could have 
 relieved Esau of the burden. The guilty secret of 
 the sale must, no doubt, have rested with himself and 
 with his brother, or have been whispered at most by 
 Jacob only in his mother's ear. Esau would surely 
 have feared to confess what would have been in his 
 father's eyes his shame ; and Jacob would have doubly 
 feared that the unrighteous compact would have been 
 pronounced to l)e of no effect. We shall be safer, I 
 imagine, in regarding Esau's sin as a reckless, thought- 
 less act, committed with the less hesitation because 
 he knew that it would entail no immediate results, 
 that his position in the family would still remain 
 unchanged, and his father's affection undiminished. 
 Esau's, again, was not the nature to reflect on the 
 mysterious connection which might subsist between 
 the birthright and the blessing; he felt, probably, at 
 
 
THE BIRTHRIGHT AXD THE BLESSIXG. 
 
 
 the moment that it was time enough j'ot to think of 
 the far-distant day when he must kneel before his 
 dying fatlier and b(i constitutud his reprosmitative and 
 succe.\sor. Jacob vaUied the birtliright for wliat it was 
 at the moment, for what it implied in the distant 
 future. He dreaded, probably, a severance from tin- 
 hopes and glories of his race, analogous to tliat of 
 Ishmael. He could not trust implicitly tt) the boun- 
 teous goodness of the Almighty to provide for the 
 satisfaction of his earnest lon<dnjj for a share in tin* 
 promises of God; a goodness which marvellously dis- 
 covered itself to him in later days in respect of hi' 
 own immediate ofi'spring, when God ceased any longer 
 to divide the families of His servants, binding together 
 the twelve sons of Jacob and their descendants as one 
 man, calling them by the new and better ap})ellatioii 
 of their common ancestor, and saying to them, " Isra«I 
 shall be thy name." 
 
 But Esau's heart leapt not at the thought of being 
 heir of God's promise ; he was not preoccupied by any 
 of those glorious contemjdations on which Jacob loved 
 to dwell; the birthright was at best an earthly thiiiL; 
 to him, of no immediate value, and therefore he «lt*- 
 spised it. Yet a time was to come when he should 
 keenly feel his loss. Isaac proposes to give him the 
 blessing, and this blessing, in its lower aspect, lif 
 ardently desired ; he could not but wish to be the head 
 of his family, to be still regarded by his father as he 
 
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 111 
 
 II; 
 
 84 
 
 T//E niRTirRIGirT AXD riFE BLESSIXG. 
 
 liad ever been regarded, and consequently he complied 
 at once with his father's instructions to prepare for the 
 celebration of tlie solemn ceremony. It can scarcely 
 be imaj[,dned that Ksau at this time relieeted on the 
 f(uilty transaction which had probably taken place 
 many years before ; it Avould rarely, if evei*, have been 
 mentioned, we may well imai^ine, by Jacob to liis 
 brother during the interval Avhicli had elapsed ; and it 
 can occasion us little surprise that Esau's aident and 
 guileless nature should have overlooked the ])ossibility 
 that he might bu incapacitated to receive the blessing 
 — should have failed to reflect that, at all events, some 
 doubt existed which nuist first be removed. Without 
 all scruple, then, Avithout any thought of doing another 
 wi'oni]^, he hastens to ol)ey his father's biddinir. It is 
 Avhen he hears iVom tliat father that the blessinir is 
 irrevocably lost that he is overwhelmed with anguish 
 and despair. He then learns that there was a mys- 
 terious connection betw^een that which he so utterly 
 despised and that which he so jiassionately desired ; 
 that the heir of Isaac's house must be the heir also of 
 the promises of (iod ; that he who receives Isaac's 
 Idessing must also have desired and expected to receive 
 through him the bhissing of Him who was the fear of 
 Isaac, and who liad called Abraham His friend. 
 
 The text tells us that Ksau " found no place for 
 lepentance, though he sought it carefully with tears." 
 The words have a harsh sound, and some have 
 
 % 
 
THE JUlUirRlGIIT AXD THE Ji LESS IXC. 
 
 S: 
 
 atteinptt'd to soften tlu'ir incunliiLC, l»y sni^'^cstiiiLj tliat 
 th(j repentance spoken of is tliat of Isaac, noi of Ksau 
 — tlio nieanini^ bein^' tliat Ksaii foinul no means yy'( 
 shaking liis father's resohition, of chani^'inn" his father's 
 )»iu*pose. Tiiis, however, wouM seem to he soniewliat 
 forced, as Ksan is tlie only person mentioned in the 
 ])assage, and consecpiently we should Jnstly infer that 
 the repentance spoken of must be A/s'. Vet, in this 
 view, it is by no means necessary to attribute to tlie 
 words the liarsli sense which they may at tirst ap|)eai" 
 to bear. They by no means imply that every avenut; 
 to true re})entance was closed against Esau, that he 
 could not be sorry for and renounce his jjast olfence : 
 the meaninsx is that he could not undo the mischief 
 wliich his wanton levity had wrought for him; that 
 he had profanely chosen the " one morsel of meat," 
 and must abide by his choice ; that the birthright 
 which he despised was lost to him for ever, a^ ' with 
 it was also lost the blessing, wliich he could not and 
 would not despise. 
 
 And now, what lesson are we to learn from this 
 sad tale of grievous error, of bitter, unavailing regret { 
 We shall not, I think, be wresting this passage of Holy 
 Writ from its legitimate application if we reganl the 
 birthright which Esau despised as typical of our 
 adoption into the family of God — ^of our Christian 
 birthright, as viewed under its spiritual and invisible 
 aspect; while the blessing which he so earnestly 
 
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 rnr. I'iRTiFRiGnr a.\d the dlessixg. 
 
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 coveted is nndei'stood t(. CfHTcspond to those oxtornal 
 and ()l)vi(ius tokens of tlie divine fjivom* wldcli arc 
 Nonu'tinies vouclisafed to tlui sons of (Jod in tins life, 
 .'ind wldeli sliall Ite ricldv bestowed noon all who boar 
 that name in the life to come. W<; have a birthri^^lit 
 and a bjessin^^ inse|)arably associated with each other; 
 the latter included under tlu; former as its neccssaiy 
 conse(|uence, its le;j^itimato result and development; 
 but tlu! former reachin;;' far beyond the sphere of the 
 latter, and extendin^T to far hiuher relations. The 
 birthright, then, which we are temj)ted, like Esau, to 
 despise, is the Christian character, the divine gift 
 which constitutes us sons of God, whether as it exists 
 in its feeble beginnings, its spiritual rudiments, in this 
 life, or as it is to be matured, in ])erfeet purity and 
 holiness, in the life to come. The blesshig is that 
 promise, even of this life, which attaches to godliness, 
 and that perfect well-being, in body and in all external 
 relations, which shall hereafter be the complement of 
 the spiritual blessedness of the redeemed. The birth- 
 right is the root, the germ, the earnest of the blessing, 
 tlie pledge of the blessing ere it c(mies, the animating 
 spii'it of the blessing even when it shall have been 
 received in its fulness. 
 
 And do we not know how readily this Christian 
 character, this privilege which has been bestowed 
 ujion us in tlie family of God, may be despised ? Is 
 there no deep lesson to be learned from the example 
 
THE BIRTHRIGHT AXD THE BLESSIXG. 
 
 ^7 
 
 ) '( 
 
 
 of liim "wliu, for one morsel of moat, sold his Mrth- 
 riL,dit"? Is tliorc no echo ever lieanl of his faithless, 
 reckless cry, " I am at the point to die, and what 
 l»rofit shall this hirthright do to me" ? Are there no 
 times at which we are stron;^dy tempted to regard our 
 Christian character as a thini^^ unreal, a mere empty 
 name, which can never profit us ; which is now, at 
 least, only a buiden and a snare, ohliging us to useless 
 self-restraint, forhi<lding us to avail ourselves of ad- 
 vantages or gratifications which the voice of interest 
 or of pleanure would jiersuade us to he indispensable 
 to our happiness ? Our own hearts, alas ! are hut too 
 prone to whisper to us, " What profit shall this birth- 
 right do unto thee ? " and let us never forget that there 
 is a subtle and malicious enemy who will ever address 
 to us the same language, and teach us, if it nmy be, 
 to account God's priceless gift to be little better than 
 a curse. And when we go forth into the world, we 
 are in great danger, especially in our earlier years, of 
 l)cin<:f chilled and disheartened bv observing how very 
 lightly many account of our spiritual l)irthright and 
 of their ow^n. We know full well that, if by God's 
 grace we are still cherishing it, we may not trust 
 fherii with our secret, that in so doing we shoidd be 
 throwing pearls before swine. We know with what 
 incredulous mirth or with what contemptuous indif- 
 ference any assertion of Christian princi}tle would l)e 
 regarded, how^ many of our fellow-Christians would 
 
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 THE LIRTIIRIGirr AXD THE BLESSING. 
 
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 scorn rosolves and as[)irations which our inmost heart 
 yet assures us ar(3 most precious and acceptable in the 
 sight (»^' God. And we mu.--t learn patiently, and 
 meekly, and courageously to tear this burden, to 
 encounter this trial. We must endure to have many, 
 })erhaps ilte luanij, against us; we must be bold to 
 reject their evil counsel, to sustain their scorn, to be 
 independent of their sympathy or approval. And let 
 us remember that, to aid us in this conflict, God often- 
 times foreshadows the great judgment which is to 
 come at the last, and both encourages the obedient 
 and warns transgressors, by intimations that there w, 
 though men so greatly disbelieve or forget it, a 
 mysterious connection between the birthright and the 
 blessing. Men may not desire to be pure and holy, 
 but they cannot do otherwise than desire happiness. 
 They may be insensible to the spiritual misery of sin, 
 but tlicy cannot be insensible to the misery of some 
 of its deadly fruits. And, accordingly, both in judg- 
 ment and in mercy, does God at times suffer them, even 
 here, to eat of the fruit of their own way. By some 
 deliberate choice of evil, by some deliberate neglect of 
 good, a man consciously abandons, so far as it is in his 
 power to do so, his Christian character, and breaks his 
 covenant Avith God. As a consequence of this trans- 
 gression he is involved in outward trouble ; a loss, 
 analogous to his offence, is irremediably incurred ; some 
 blessing is obviously withdrawn as the result of his 
 

 rilE BIRTHRIGHT AND THE BLESSING. 
 
 89 
 
 contonipt of tlie birtliri^ljt. And liavo we never li^anl, 
 in cases siicli as tliese, " the exceedini'' i^Teat and bitter 
 cry ; " liavc we never witnessed tlie unavailing regret ; 
 Imve we never lieard, even where true reptnitance 
 found no place, the heartfelt avctwal that the sorrow 
 was indeed the fruit of the si?i, and that they are far 
 wiser and happier who, at least in this regard, do not 
 break throuu'h the bounds which God has set about 
 them ? Thus may a son mourn too late over dis- 
 obedience to a departed parent — a wi'ong which can 
 never be re}>aired. Thus may many aii offender weep, 
 when the providence of God tells him, in awful tcmes, 
 that although the door to penitence is still open, there 
 is yet no place for repentance in respect of the 
 temporal results of the particular transgression ; that, 
 if it has entailed upon him the loss of some cherished 
 good, that loss is irreparable ; that, if it has stamped 
 him with some brand of anguish or disgrace, he must 
 be content to bear it still. 
 
 And may we not, if we will, even the youngest 
 amongst us, search our hearts and try our past ways; 
 and gather from our own experience the assurance 
 that our birthright is not to 1)e despised ? Did we 
 ever, for the sake of that birthright, abstain fiom evil 
 or cleave to good, yet repent of so doing ? ])id we, 
 ever, because we are members of (^hrist and children 
 of God, and because we would not dishonour the Holy 
 Name by which we are called — did we ever, fi-oni 
 
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 THE BIRTHRIGHT AXD THE BLESSING. 
 
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 those pure and holy motives, with prayer for the lielp 
 of God, turn from the alluring voice of temptation, or 
 address ourselves to painful and self-denying duties — 
 did we ever do this, yet regret afterwards that we had 
 done so ? Is there, on the contrary, any joy to be 
 compared to the joy which follows from srccessful 
 i-osistance to evil, any peace like that which results 
 fi'om ordering our conduct by the love and fear of 
 God ? If, then, our own reason and the affections of 
 our own hearts thus confirm the voice of God's Word, 
 may we not despise the suggestions of evil men and 
 of evil spirits, and the suggestions of our own lower 
 nature, when they w^ould address to us the impious 
 inquiry, " What profit shall this birthright do unto 
 thee ? " 
 
 In considering the mysterious relation which sub- 
 sists between the birthright and the blessing, we shall 
 do well to look to Him who is our great Exemplar, 
 the Author and Finisher of our faith, and who thus 
 teaches us both how to rocjard the beijinninixs of the 
 
 O Oct 
 
 life of God within us, and how to look on to its perfect 
 consummation. 
 
 When our Lord took upon Him to deliver man, 
 He may be said to have assumed, in an especial sense, 
 the birthright ; becoming, by virtue thereof, in His 
 human nature, not only the Son of God, but the first- 
 born among many brethren. And mark how He, 
 who from the first bore within Him the germ of 
 
THE BIRTHRIGHT AXD THE BLESS IXC. 
 
 91 
 
 perfect manhood — mark how He a})peare(l amoni^'st 
 men. There hay within Him from the first the 
 iindevelopcil ghjries of our renev\'ed humanity. He 
 liad the birthright, and tlie blessing, in all its fulness, 
 must follow. Yet " He was despised and rejected of 
 men; a Man of sorrows, and accpiainted with grief" 
 What carnal man, looking on the Son of God in the 
 ilays of His humiliation, would have hesitated to 
 address to Him, even as to His lowliest follower, the 
 ftiithless and scoffing inquiry, " What profit shall this 
 ])irthri2:ht do unto Thee ? " 
 
 Was not this the very language of tlie tempter ? 
 Did not he contrast our Lord's outward condition 
 and duties with the lofty pretensions which His 
 designation implied ? *' What profit to be the Son 
 of God if Thou must hunger thus ? What profit to 
 be His Son, if Thou must gaze, as a poor ])easant, on 
 the glory of the world, without partaking of its pomps 
 and pleasures ? What profit to be His Son, if man- 
 kind are to receive no dazzlincr and overwhelminij 
 proof of Thy claim to that high title ? God surely 
 made this world for His sons, that they might gratify 
 tlieir tastes, indulge the promptings of ambition, assert 
 and demonstrate their high prerogatives." Yet from 
 all these su'^ufestions the Son of God turned a-ide, 
 to tread His holy path of abstinence, of lowly poverty, 
 of meek concealment of His glory, save only when 
 some gentle, healing ray was permitted to beam on 
 
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92 
 
 THE BIRTHRIGHT AXD THE BLESSING. 
 
 
 11! 
 
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 willino' and faitlifiil hearts. Thus hore He with Hiui, 
 ill obscurity and suffering, the priceless treasure of 
 the lieavenly birtln-iglit, that sinless perfection of the 
 inner man, whereby He proved Himself to be God's 
 beloved Son, in whom He Avas well pleased. But, 
 the threat work of obedience and sutierino; accom 
 plished, tlie blessing followed. " The firstborn among 
 many brethren " became " the first-begotten from the 
 dead, the Prince of the kings of the earth ; " and while 
 they whose eyes were opened could say of Him, at 
 His first comino", "The Word was made fiesh, and 
 dwelt among us, full of grace and truth," we may be 
 assured that when, hereafter, " He cometli with clouds, 
 and every eye shall see Him," every heart shall also 
 confess His unspeakable glory, and that they wdio 
 have, alas ! even in Him, despised the spiritual grace 
 and beauty of the birthright, must yet acknowledge 
 tlie transcendent richness of the blessing. 
 
 Let us be content, then, to folloAv the footsteps of 
 our Lord ; to conform ourselves on earth to the example 
 of His patience ; to endure, as He did, the contradiction 
 of sinners, that we may be hereafter partakers of His 
 joy. Nothing Avhich we can encounter here can 
 effectually dishearten us, if Ave keep our eyes fixed 
 upon His perfect example. He bore for us that we 
 might bear, after our measure, in Him, the assaults 
 oi the tempter, and the cold indifference or the active 
 malignity of those who disregard or hate the truth. 
 
THE BIRTHRIGHT AXD THE BLESSING, 
 
 93 
 
 And let us ever remember, l)oth as a warning an«l 
 as an encouragement, tliat, as in the instanctj of our 
 Lord Himself, so also in the instance of all who are 
 His, though the birthright be despised by the un- 
 believinj]:, the blessinix must bo acknowled<ji:ed and 
 esteemed by all. It is well to remember this. God 
 is the author of all good ; e.vpnj good and perfect gift 
 is from Him; He is the dispenser of everything which 
 contributes to the delight and adornment of His 
 creatures ; and He will hereafter clothe with sur- 
 passing grace and majesty, and surround with every 
 external circumstance which can enhance their felicitv, 
 those who have clung fast on earth, in loving obe- 
 dience, to that birthright of spiritual purity and 
 lioliness which must be the germ and I'oot of all 
 happiness. 
 
 There is a day of retribution coming, but feebly 
 foreshadowed by tlie day of which we have been 
 reading, when Esau was rejected an<l Jacob bh^ssed. 
 As now the world knoweth not them that are Christ's, 
 ])ecause it knew Him not ; so, when He shall ap])ear, 
 the world shall know tliem, for they shall be like 
 their Lord. Did Rebecca taice goodly raiment of her 
 elder son and put them upon Jacob ; and sliall not 
 He, with whom are stored all the ci'easures of the 
 imiverse, clothe with inniiortal honour tliose who are 
 to be the recipients of liis blessing, the heirs of His 
 eternal kingdom ? No dew of heaven, no fatness of 
 
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 94 
 
 THE BIRTHRIGHT AND THE BLESSIXG. 
 
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 the earth, no plenty of corn and wine, shall be re- 
 served for them — gifts in themselves suggestive ut' 
 necessity, the aids and solaces of infirmity; but, saitli 
 the Lord, "to him that overcometh will I grant to 
 sit with Me on My throne ; " " to him that overcometh 
 will I give to eat of the tree of life, which is in the 
 midst of the Parailise of God." 
 
 Such are the blessinijjs which are in store for the 
 redeemed of Christ — blessings too vast for man's 
 intellect to apprehend, yet not too vast foi* the cravings 
 of the immortal s})irit, which God has created to be 
 satisfied only in Himself If such, then, be the fulness 
 of the blessing, not only in the secret depths of man's 
 being, but also in res})ect of all external relations and 
 circumstances, Avill even they Avho discern not the 
 things of the Spirit be able to despise it ? No ; surely 
 Esau's " great and exceeding bitter cry " warns us but 
 too plainly of the ultimate despair of those who shall 
 have forsaken " the fountain of living waters," the 
 source of all good. The happiness which they have 
 vainly sought elsewhere will then be brought forth, 
 by the hands of the Redeemer and Judge, as a diadem 
 and kingly robe, to be the grace and ornament of 
 righteousness ; the good which they have idolized 
 will then be assigned, as their rightful portion, to 
 those who have cherished the far higher good which 
 they have spurned. 
 
 Then, at the last, there will be for them indeed 
 
THE BIRTHRIGHT AXD THE BLESSING. 
 
 95 
 
 " no place for repentance," no real desire to repent — 
 nothing better than an unloving, hopeless remorse ; 
 from which may God, of His great mercy, save us, 
 teaching us to hold fast our CJhristian birthright here, 
 that so we may inherit the fulness of His blessing in 
 the life to come. 
 
 J <•, 
 
SERMON VIIL 
 Pfeached in Trinity College Chapel. 
 
 For Good Friday. 
 
 2 Corinthians v. 14, 15. — " For the love of Christ constrainetli 
 us ; because we thus judge, tliat if oue tiled for all, then 
 were all dead: and that He died for all, that they which 
 live should not henceforth live inito themselves, but unto 
 Him which died for them, and rose again." 
 
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 The many awful an<l affecting circmiistancos con- 
 nected witli the deatli of our Blessed Lord are recorded 
 in Holy Scripture with so grave a simplicity, witli 
 so solemn a pathos, that any uninspired teacher may 
 well pause before he attempts, in any wise, to deepen 
 the effect wdiich the sacred record must leave on 
 every devout and attentive hearer. 
 
 In the passages of Holy Scripture Avhich have been 
 read during the course of this hol}^ week, its direct 
 teaching on this momentous subject has been exhausted. 
 Every evangelist, in his turn, has told us the sad tale 
 of Gethsemane and of Calvary. We have been, so far 
 as oral instruction can make us, witnesses of the 
 
LIVING UNTO CHRIST. 
 
 97 
 
 agony and bloody sweat, of the cross and passion ; 
 and the more we keep the things which we have 
 heard, and ponder them in our hearts, the less shall 
 we desire to hear, in other language, the story which 
 God's chosen witnesses have told in words which 
 they were moved l^ the H(jly Ghost to utter. 
 
 Moreover, while it would be idle indeed to attempt 
 to add to the impression which the sacred narrative 
 is so marvellously fitted to leave u|)on the mind and 
 heart, there is another task to which this season, this 
 day, especially sunnnons the Christian teacher. It is 
 not enough that our human sympathies should be 
 awakened by the spectacle presented to us, though 
 it is well indeed that they should be thus awakened ; 
 it is not enough that we should return from that 
 sifdit " smitino; our breasts," as S. Luke tells us all 
 the people did, for we have been taught far more 
 respecting the death of our Lord than those sorrowing 
 or awe-btricken multitudes could know. 
 
 In the Acts of the Apostles and in the Epistles we 
 find the complement, the application, of the solemn 
 narrative of the evangelists ; we learn that Christ 
 died for us, and that in so doing He has placed us 
 under the most profound obligation to Him. These, 
 then, are the fitting lessons for the day, the fitting 
 thoughts to occupy us as w^e gaze upon the cross — the 
 lesson that He who died there, died for us ; the lesson 
 that we for whom He died must live to Him. This 
 
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 98 
 
 LIVIXG UNTO CHRIST. 
 
 is the tc.'ichinu: of the text: " Tlie love of Clnist 
 constrainctli us," says tlie apost'e, sjx'akiiiL;*, indeed, 
 iininediately of liimself, yet speakiHi,^ the coinnioii 
 laniT'iaLie of Oliristian men. " Whether we be beside 
 ourselves, it is to God : or wliether we be sober, it is 
 for your cause." If I act in such a way as men 
 account to bo extra vaijance and madness, it is to God 
 and in His cause that I do so; if, again, I am sober 
 — if I discover such prudence and wisdom as men 
 a[)preciate and admire — it is for your cause, not for 
 my own : for the love of Christ constraineth me. It is 
 an urgent motive, of the pressure of wliich I am ever 
 conscious, inditierent alike to the praise of men and to 
 my own })crsonal gratification. 
 
 And what is "the love of Christ" of which the 
 apostle speaks ? Is it Christ's love for him, or his 
 love for Christ ? The words will bear either sense, 
 and probably include both senses ; yet they must l)e 
 understood chiefly to mark Christ's great love for 
 him — that wondrous, priceless love which was the 
 cause, the ground, the very source and life of his own 
 love for Christ. And this love constrains hiin to self- 
 devotion; "because we thus judge," judging or con- 
 cluding thus, " that if one died for all, then were all 
 dead." 
 
 The latter clause admits of another translation, or 
 rather requires it : " then all died." As it stands in 
 our version, the apostle's reasoning would be, that if 
 
LIVING UNTO CHRIST. 
 
 99 
 
 III 
 
 our Lord died for all, all for whom FTe died wcru dead 
 by God's just soiitcnce, and also dead already in trcs- 
 ])asses and sins. If the other translation l)e adopted, 
 his reasoning will probably be, that "if one died for 
 all, then the all for whom He died died with Him." 
 In the one case S. Paul points ^o the cause, in the 
 other to the blessed result, of the death of Christ; 
 speaking, on the former hypothesis, of that death \a 
 sin from which Christ's death redeemed us ; on the 
 latter hypothesis, of that death io sin, of which we 
 are made partakers by virtue of the death of Christ 
 for us. It may not, inde(xl, be possible absolutely to 
 determine whether, in this brief form of expression, 
 the apostle speaks of a death on our }>art antec 'dent 
 to, or consecjuent upon, the death of Christ for us ; but 
 it has been justly remarked that, if we understand 
 him to be speaking of a result of our Lord's death 
 wixen he says "then all died," we are taught to give 
 a fulness of meaning to Christ's dying for all which 
 (otherwise we fail to attribute to it. " If one died on 
 behalf of all, then all on whose behalf He died died 
 with Him." The efficacy of our Blessed Lord's death 
 is thus strongly brought home to us. It is un- 
 doubtedly the act of another on our behalf, in our 
 stead; but it is not that only. It is indeed something 
 originally external to us, independent of us, but it is 
 not so ultimately. As w^e are numbered, one by one, 
 with those on whom Christ's death for all takes effect, 
 
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 LIVING UNTO CHRIST. 
 
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 iifiii 
 
 wc die witli Him. So are we tauijlit tliat the t'race 
 of holy baptism is "a deatli unto sin, and a new birtli 
 unto rigliteousness," and our part all our lives long 
 is to be realizing baptismal grace; to be hvcxmiDV} 
 more and more what we were then potentially made ; 
 to be learning to say, with the ajjostle, with a fuller 
 apprehension of the import of the confession, " I have 
 been crucified with Christ ;" to be learning to cherish 
 with liim the ardent desire that "we may know 
 Christ, and the power of His resurre(*tion, and the 
 fellowship of His sufferings, being made conformable 
 unto His death." 
 
 One died for all, and all for whom He died die in 
 Him a death to sin which they could not othei'wise 
 have died. One died to whom it was not possible 
 that He should be holden of death, over whom death 
 hath now no more dominion ; and His death for all 
 was the bringing of all into a blessed participation of 
 His death — of a death whereby death is destroyed, 
 of a death which is the gate of resurrection unto life, 
 of a death whereby men die to sin and begin to live 
 to God. 
 
 But the apostle continues, " And that He died for 
 all, that they which live should not henceforth live 
 unto themselves, but unto Him which died for them, 
 and rose again." We cannot be mistaken, I imagine, 
 in understanding the apostle, when he says " they that 
 live," to be speaking of spiritual life ; and his mean- 
 
LIVIXG UXTO CHRIST. 
 
 lOI 
 
 in^' will aec'onliiii^'ly l)o, " Arul tliat lie thus (IumI tor 
 all, enal>liii!jf all Id diu unto sin, that th(;y who have 
 now iccuivc'd in Him a new life unto ri^^'htcousnuss, 
 may ])('rforni the propur actions of that litV', living not 
 to thcniselvt's, hut to His j^dory." Thus interpivtcd, 
 the aj)ostlo's words will siTve to remind us of 
 anotlior lesson which Holy Scripture often teaches — 
 that we may, in some sort, I'ivc by the act of (Jod's 
 grace and yet fail to perform the distinctive actions 
 of sj)ii'itual life ; and further, that if they who have 
 received this divine gift of life live unto themselves, 
 and not to Him who died for them and rose again, 
 the life will die out or he withdrawn. To the {ingel 
 of the Church in Sardis S. John was instructed to 
 write, " I know thy works, that thou hast a name 
 that thou livest, and art dead. Be watchful, and 
 strengthen the things which remain, that are ready 
 to die : for I have not found thy works perfect before 
 God." Here is a stranfje declaration — first of actual 
 death, and then of readiness to die ; an awful inti- 
 mation that, so far as man's guilty accjuiescence is 
 concerned, the divine life may have actually departed 
 from him, and yet how God's long-suffering may still 
 permit the slighted, dishonoured gift to linger with 
 him, only "ready to die." Yet the life has been 
 imparted, surely, for an end far other than this, for an 
 end most exalted and honourable ; even that by its 
 new instincts, its new impulses, its new energies, we 
 
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 102 
 
 LIVING UNTO CHRIST. 
 
 may learn to live no longer to ourselves, but to the 
 honour and i^raise of Him who alike died and rose 
 again on oui behalf, " who was delivered for our 
 olfeiices, and raised again for our justification." 
 
 And now let us endeavour to take home the ereat 
 lesson of the day. Where shall we learn the love of 
 Christ, if not on Calvary ? Here is the end of a life 
 of love ; not only its do>^(>, but its conHummation. All 
 ebe hung on this ; every act of healing, eveiy word of 
 mercy, every wondrous doctrine, presuj)posed this 
 crowning suffering. He came to be obedient unto 
 death, to do God's supreme will, by "finishing the 
 transgression, and making an end of sins, and making 
 reconciliation for iniquity, and bringing in everlasting- 
 righteousness;" and this could not be done except the 
 second Adam carried our humanity with Him through 
 death to life, loving not His own life in this world, 
 that He might keep our life in Him to life eternal. 
 Shall not, then, this love constrain us ? Can we not, 
 with the apostle, judge that this wondrous death for 
 all imi)lies a wondrous redemption, a most blessed 
 deliverance both from the punishment and from the 
 power of sin ? Can we not, with I *m, confess that 
 He who thus enabled us to die to evil and to li* e anew, 
 has done so in order that we might henceforth live no 
 selfish, sordid life, but a pure and exalted life, to the 
 glory of Him who has vouchsafed to make His death 
 and resurrection, in their virtue, our own ? 
 
 i^i'i 
 
LIVING UXTO CHRIST. 
 
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 What is it to live unto oursclvea, but to shut our- 
 selves out from all true happiness ? How wivtched to 
 1)0 of the number of those of whom the Lord said, "He 
 that loveth his life shall lose it." To spend a few brief 
 years in idolizini,^ our ease, our pleasure, our wealth, our 
 ambition, and then to die ; to go forth, beggai'ed, into 
 another life, naked of all on which God and good 
 angels look as the life of man's spirit, destitute (tf all 
 which our Redeemer so dearly purchased for us, and 
 which our Judge can graciously accept, as the price of 
 His own precious blood, as the work of His sanctifying 
 Spirit ; — this it is to live unto ourselves. 
 
 And what is it to live unto Christ ? What is it 
 now ? To set Him before us, to keep Him in our 
 solemn and grateful remembrance, to think of Him 
 who is ever with us, as the witness of all we are or do, 
 and so humbly and dutifully to strive to devote to Him 
 our thoughts, our words, our works. It is a hard and 
 humbling lesson, a long lesson, the lesson of a life — 
 this lesson of living unto Christ. Yet, why har<l, ex- 
 cept because we are so frail and wilful ; why humbling, 
 except because we fail so grievously of our duty !* 
 Let this be freely and honestly confessed ; let us not 
 consent to make avowals of Christian belief and obli- 
 gation to which our daily life gives the lie. We may 
 well speak with shame and sorrow of living unto Him 
 who died and rose again for us. But, amidst all this 
 sense of infirmity, do we not feel that to live unto 
 
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 LIVIXG UNTO CHRIST. 
 
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 Christ is our true happiness, the noblest end of our 
 existence ? Is there any peace like that which follows 
 from makin<;^ this our aim, any jov- like that which 
 results from the hope of His gracious regard ? And, if 
 we look a little further on, what is it to live to Christ ? 
 God's wise and kind appointment has made this life 
 a fitting school for man on his way to another life. 
 There is much to sober, to sadden every man, as years 
 pass over his head. He is taught in many different 
 ways that this is not his home. Everything on earth 
 which he values, becomes, from year to year, more 
 })erceptibly insecure. Bodily health and strength, 
 plans and prospects of advancement, domestic ties, 
 more distant yet cherished friendships — all these are 
 gradually seen to be less stable, less certain ; and there 
 are few indeed who have not been taught, by some 
 severe shock, to anticipate a time when any fabric of 
 fancied happiness which they may build upon the 
 sands of time must be laid in utter ruin. What is it, 
 then, to have been living unto Christ, but to have 
 escaped this disappointment, this sense of desolation ; 
 to have been living to One " who is the same yester- 
 day, and to-day, and for ever *' ? Let us, too, remember 
 that our gracious Lord does not require us to abandon, 
 for His sake, anything which earth has which is truly 
 precious or desirable. We nmst, indeed, forsake and 
 renounce His enemies and our own ; but it is a part of 
 His great love to teach us, if we follow Him and live 
 
LIVING UNTO CHRIST. 
 
 105 
 
 to Him, to make oaitli's otherwise perishable treasures 
 imfailing, and earth's fleeting joys immortal. 
 
 We may not love father or mother more than Christ ; 
 but it is the love of Christ alone which can teach us 
 to make friends who shall receive us into everlastinor 
 habitations, to' stamp on our earthly friendships the 
 impress of immortalitj^ and to knit the frail ties of 
 human kindred and ati'ection into bonds which never 
 shall be broken. 
 
 And yet a little further let us look, and ask wdiat it 
 is " to live unto Christ." Tlie apostle shall answer : 
 " To me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." Is any 
 man on earth to be accounted happy in comparison of 
 him who could utter these words ? And none but he 
 who can make the first affirmation can make the 
 second. If we live unto Christ, death is gain to us. 
 If we have lived unto Christ, then will He say to us 
 at the last day, " Come, ye blessed of My Father." 
 
 But it is no easy, no light thing, to live unto Christ. 
 ^Q feel this from day to day in the world ; let us con- 
 fess it here. God's house is no place for hypocrisy or 
 self-deceiving. If the plain truth is to be spoken any- 
 where, let it be spoken here. It is no easy thing to 
 live unto Christ. We all know this ; and when any 
 truthful preacher exhorts others, he does but exhort 
 himself. How, then, are we all to learn this hard 
 lesson of livinc: unto (/hrist? There are two OTcat 
 classes of religious duties, which may be distinguished 
 
 III! 
 
 .f !•> 
 
1'! 
 I 
 
 5 II 
 
 I I ««p««««i I m 
 
 »■ 
 
 1 06 
 
 LIVING UNTO CHRIST. 
 
 t ■ I, 
 
 i . h 
 
 as awls and means. To the world at large the ends 
 will never be obvious, wliile the means are so. And, 
 accordingly, men who know little or nothing of religion, 
 consider that it consists wholly in tlie observance of 
 those duties which are the means of godly living. 
 Attendance on public worsliip, family prayer, private 
 prayer, devotional study of Holy Scripture, the recep- 
 tion of the Lord's Supi)er — these tilings are regarded 
 by many men of the world as constituting the sum and 
 substance of religion, and they often cons(jle themselves 
 by saying that they do not see that the observance of 
 these external usages can make any important differ- 
 ence in a man's character, or in God's judgment of him. 
 
 If these outward duties were the ivholc of religion, 
 they who thus reason would be perfectly riglit, and >\ e 
 should have little ground to suppose that the so-called 
 religious man would be more acceptable to God than 
 the irreligious. 
 
 But these externals are but means, and true religion 
 lies in that which is their end. True reliuion is nothino- 
 less than " to live unto Christ." And so soon as ever 
 a man begins to make tins his ol)ject, he will perceive 
 that there are special means provided for, and indis- 
 pensable to, the attainment of his great end, and that, 
 as means appointed for its attainment, they are above 
 all i)rice. 
 
 If we would "live unto Christ," it must be in His 
 strength ; and His strength is imparted to us through 
 
LIVING UNTO CHRIST. 
 
 107 
 
 the use of means. We know that He bids us pray, 
 that He connnands us to receive the communion of 
 His Blessed Body and Blood ; we know, too, tliat He 
 has said, " He that hath My commandments and keei)eth 
 tliem, lie it is that loveth Me ; " and we know that we 
 cannot have, cannot hold Christ's connnandnients, 
 unless, by devout contemplation of His Holy Word, 
 we renew and deepen again and again our conviction 
 of their matchless excellence, and also by that humble 
 confession, to which God's gracious promise of forgive- 
 ness is vouchsafed, dephjre our past neglect of them, 
 and wash off, again and again, the stains which we 
 have contracted in our daily life — the dust of this 
 naughty world. 
 
 Sad is the condition of those who make means their 
 ends, but no less sad the condition of those who look 
 for the ends without the means. Let us set this 
 thought before us, " The love of Christ constraineth 
 me to live not unto myself, but unto Him," and then 
 religious observances and outward rules, which might 
 otherwise have appeared dull and lifeless, will at once 
 become instinct with meanino- and fraught with interest. 
 We shall hearken to God's Word, intjrder that we may 
 be more fully instructed, or seasonably admonished, as 
 to the nature of the service to which we arii dedicated ; 
 we shall pray, in order that the Spirit of our Great 
 Master " may in all things direct and rule our hearts ; " 
 we shall communicate, in (H'der that ve may dwell 
 
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 V 
 
 
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 1 08 
 
 LIVING UNTO CHRIST. 
 
 in Christ, and that Christ may dwell in us, disposing 
 and enabling us to live "to Him " " in Whom " we live. 
 Be, then, the great end of our blessed Lord's death 
 for all, which the apostle here declares to us, ever in 
 our thou<dits — amid the duties and en<]fas:ements of our 
 daily life, in our private and public acts of worship ; 
 and, above all, let it inspire our desires and our peti- 
 tions, when we draw near to that chief gift of grace, 
 in the reception of which our Heavenly Father 
 graciouf-ly assures His faithful worshippers that they 
 are " very members, incorporate in the mystical body " 
 of Him unto whom it is alike their obligation and 
 their blessedness to live. 
 
SERMON IX. 
 Preacifed in Trinity College Chapel. 
 
 For E'(stcr Day. 
 2 Timothy i. 10.—" Who hath abolished death." 
 
 This great day presents to us subjects of devout 
 meditation so many and so glorious, tliat we are well- 
 nigh dazzled and overpowered by their number and 
 by their splendour. The resurrection of our Lord, 
 regarded solely in respect of Himself, claims our 
 most grateful and reverential contemplation ; viewed 
 as being Hi.3 own personal triumph, as the crown 
 and recompense of His obedience unto death, it 
 cannot but awaken within us the liveliest emo- 
 tions of joy and pious exultation ; and, again, if we 
 look to the several circumstances connected witli it, 
 to the several persons inunediately affected by it, 
 we discover new and diversified subjects of interest, 
 both for our understandings and for our affections. 
 The interview of the women with the ani-el at the 
 sepulchre, the visit of the Apostles S. Peter and 
 
 Hi 
 
no 
 
 THE ABOLISHIXG OF DEATH. 
 
 
 S. John, the aj^poaraiicc of the risen Saviour to Mary 
 Magdalene, the walk to P^nimaus, the presence of the 
 Lord in the midst of His apostles at evening — all 
 these are themes on which we miuht well linu:er, de- 
 riving from them all at once instruction and delif'ht. 
 Or, again, if we regard this mighty event under its 
 moral aspect, in its spiritual import, in its con- 
 sequences as it affects ourselves, what treasures of 
 doctrine and of precept are stored in the resurrection 
 of Christ ! And, in dwelling ui)on any one single 
 point, we seem, in some sort, to be doing a w^rong to 
 the vast and glorious mystery of which we attempt to 
 speak ; we seem to be forgetting that which we omit 
 to celebrate, to be slighting that to which we are 
 unable at the moment to extend our view. Yet it 
 is well that w^e should contemplate these high and 
 marvellous truths in detail, and be content effectually 
 to appropriate, if we may, some one lesson which they 
 convey, rather than, by attempting to take in the 
 wider view, to lose the benefit of a close and 
 thoughtful examination of any of its parts. The text, 
 then, reminds us of one signal benefit which has been 
 derived to us from the death and resurrection of our 
 Lord, even the abolishing, or annulling, of death ; and 
 the truth which it declares is set forth more fully 
 in the Epistle to the Hebrews (ii. 14), where we read 
 that " Jesus took part of our flesh and blood, that 
 through death He might destroy him that had the 
 
 \h 
 
THE ABO LIS HI XG OF DEATH. 
 
 I I I 
 
 are 
 
 ])Owor of death, that is, the devil ; and (hdivor tlu'iii 
 who tliroug-h fear of deatli were all their lifetimo 
 subject to boiidni^e." This al»i)litioii, tliis deliverance 
 from the fear of death, Avithout (| lestion includes, as 
 its essential and primary element, our Redeemer's 
 victory over spiritual as well as physical evil ; hut 
 at })resent I would invite you to regard that great 
 and sore evil, hodily death, as an evil which it was 
 the purpose of our Lord to remove, and which His 
 death did indeed " destroy." It was through fear of 
 this death that men were for the most part in 
 bondage. The sense of guilt might well have made 
 it more terrible, the fear of something after death 
 mio'ht w^ell have been added to the fear of death 
 itself. But death alone must ever have been to man 
 a source of deep disquietude and alarm ; he must 
 have been in bondage to it, hearing evermore, even 
 in his most secure and prosperous hours, tlie clanking 
 of the chain which reminded him of his bitter servi- 
 tude. And althoucih the abolition of this death be 
 but a small })art of the redempti(m which Christ has 
 purchased for us, it may yet be well to lemember that 
 it IS a part of that redemi)tion, and to view it singly ; 
 and this because men at large are more or less sensible 
 that, in respect of this evil at least, they do need a 
 deliverer; and because, if they are assured that Christ 
 has, in respect of it, purchased for them deliverance, 
 they may be thus disposed, by God's grace, to accept 
 
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 I 12 
 
 THE A BO USUI XG OF DEATH. 
 
 % 
 
 at His luands a Letter freedom still, an introduction 
 into a yet hii^lier and purer lil)erty. 
 
 Our Blesseil Lord would seem to liave set us the 
 cxam})k' of winnini^ men by relievin*^ their teuiporal 
 sufferings, lie does not appear to have been re- 
 strained from symi)athizing with the coinmcm griefs 
 of humanity by the circumstance that, in the first 
 instance, perchance, the sutierer ai)pealed to no higher 
 sympathy, and sought no more precious benefit ; and 
 surely we cannot be wrong in declaring to the world 
 that His gospel does comprehend healiug for man's 
 ordinary gi'iefs, true comfort for his earthly sorrows ; 
 that Christ still cries by the ministry of His Church, 
 " Come unto Ale, all ye that are weary and heavy 
 laden, and I will give you rest." Death is the wages 
 of sin, and it ill becomes any Christian man to think 
 lightly of that awful penalty. God made not His 
 goodly and precious works to be thus nuiiTed ; the 
 exquisite workmanship of the human frame was not 
 formed to bo so painfully and shamefully dissolved 
 as it now is ; we do God great dishonour if we 
 conceive that, in this fallen world of ours, there can 
 be any siglit more offensive to His Divine Majesty 
 than is the dread penalty of transgression, save only 
 the transgression itself, which brought in the penalty. 
 
 t 
 
 God is the God of nature as well as the God of orace, 
 and the dispensation of grace does but sanction the 
 higher aspirations of nature, and satisfy its purer 
 
THE ABOLISIIIXG OF DEATIL 
 
 113 
 
 and 
 
 yearnin^^'H. And chiefly did our Blessed Lord, in the 
 <!xam|)le of Tlis own life, prove to us that tlie punish- 
 ment of sin, apart from God's promised remedy, with- 
 out His strong consolation, was indeed intolerable ; 
 that our poor human hearts were never meant to 
 support the woe wdiich sin had brouglit uptm them, 
 save by tlic mighty aid of Him who was at length 
 manifested to take away our sin, and the woo of 
 which it was the cause. 
 
 Was there ever one among the sons of men wdio 
 looked on death with more i)rofound emotion than 
 did our Blessed Lord ? Did any ever discover so deep 
 a consciousness of the malignity of the evil ; of the 
 fearful destruction of human hopes, of the laceration of 
 human affections, which it was working from hour 
 to hour ? No ; He came to destroy it as man's great 
 enemy ; to destroy it utterly at the last, and in the 
 meanwhile to give His servants victory over it. Let us 
 learn, then, to regard our Lord as' the great Deliverer 
 of man, not in soul only, but in body also ; let us learn 
 to regard Him as One who pities all natural griefs, who 
 heals all human sorrows. Is it not the divinely ap- 
 pointed office of grief to bring us to Him ; to awaken 
 within us an earnest lon<xino- to commend ourselves to 
 His healing power ? Is not the destroyer thus ever 
 unconsciously doing the Restorer's bidding, and, by 
 visiting us with temporal evil, moving us to flee for 
 refuire to Him wdio can alone deliver us from the 
 
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 M<iii 
 
 ■ MfcirrtMj'i.i ii . t i« "iW i»ii 
 
 i 
 
114 
 
 THE ABOLISHING OF DEATH. 
 
 II > 
 
 wrath to come ? Let us never think in trial that 
 Christ is not indeed ready to conit'ort and sustain us. 
 It would be sad indeed to tliink tluitso much sulleriug 
 is permitted in the worUl for any other end than 
 tliis, that men might tlius be led to Christ for comfort, 
 and learn, in His holy presence, to desire and to seek 
 far higher blessings than that, the need of which first 
 brought them to His feet. 
 
 But it may be asked, IIow has Christ abolished 
 death ? By the assured promise of the resurrection 
 of the dead. By the assured fact of His own resurrec- 
 tion, as the pledge of oui's. He is the firstfruits, and 
 in Him the resurrection is begun. One who died, and 
 was buried, is risen again, and is at the right hand of 
 God. And this is none other than He of whose body 
 we are members. We are risen in Him, and if this be 
 so, is not death abolished ? To us, and especially to 
 those who mourn — to each of us, when our hearts 
 are crushed with deadly grief — He now speaks as He 
 once spake to IMartha : " I am the resurrection and the 
 life : he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, 
 yet shall he live : and he that liveth and believeth in 
 Me shall never die." 
 
 What a change was wrought in the world, in this 
 regard, by the publication of the glad tidings of 
 Christ ! Then, among the heathen at least, were men 
 first tau<»'ht " not to sorrow concernino; them that are 
 asleep, even as others which have no hope." 
 
THE ABOLISIIIXG OF DEA TIL 
 
 115 
 
 igs 
 
 Then moii began to feel tlie assurance that (h'atli 
 was not a final separation — not a destruction of the 
 body, not an anniliihition of tlie spirit. Then niiglit 
 they begin to cherish tender remembrances of the 
 departed, not as memorials of an irreparable loss, but 
 as earnests of a ijjreater j^^ood to come. 
 
 The innocence of infancy, the grace of childhood, the 
 bloom of youth, the promise or the perfect strength of 
 manhood, might then be remendjered, not as things 
 which God liad made in vain, but as treasures, lost to 
 sight indeed, yet safely stored, and destined to be 
 enjoyed hereafter. 
 
 The bitter,maddening anguish, which was inevitable 
 so long as the bereavement seemed to be inflicted by 
 some blind or malignant power, may now be converted 
 into the tender, gentle grief, which has learned to 
 acquiesce in wise and merciful, though i)ainful, chas- 
 tisement. Faith will discern, in the mighty woi'ks 
 of mercy wrought by our Lord on earth, not only 
 isolated instances of His lovingkindness, but much 
 rather gracious indications of His general symi)athy 
 with human suffering, of his general [)urpose to re- 
 lieve that suffering, wherever His aid i,«-" humbly and 
 faithfully sought. 
 
 The eye of faith may behold Him standing now 
 by the death-bed of the young, as He once stood by 
 the death-bed of the ruler's daughter. He may still 
 be heard there to pronounce the selfsame words, only 
 
 i i 
 
'ill- 
 
 ii6 
 
 THE ABOLISHING OF DEATH. 
 
 
 m 
 
 ill-'' 
 
 with a meaning far deeper and more full of divine 
 consolation, " The maid is not dead, but sleepeth." The 
 mourner may still meet Him even on the way to the 
 sepulchre ; may still hear His gracious greeting, "Weep 
 not ; " may still feel and know that the Lord of life 
 Himself has come and touched the bier. And when 
 the last sad offices are over, are not those consolatory 
 words as truly addressed to His faithful now, as they 
 were once to the sister of Lazarus, " Thy brother shall 
 rise again ; " " Said I not unto thee, that, if thou 
 wouldest believe, thou shouldest see the glory of God ? " 
 And if we hear not yet the word of power, " Young 
 man, I say unto thee, arise ! " " Lazarus, come forth ! " 
 can we rightly mourn that the mandate is delayed ; 
 that they who have been gathered to their rest are 
 not recalled to this scene of probation, of conflict and 
 of trial, but that the voice which the dead must hear 
 is withheld, until the warfare shall have been accom- 
 plished, and the dead in Christ shall rise to possess 
 the kingdom ? 
 
 Nor ought w^e to forget how that instinctive dread 
 of death which we cannot but entertain, in respect of 
 ourselves as well as in respect of others, has been 
 most mercifully abated and mitigated by the death 
 and resurrection of our Lord. We have not only His 
 great example ^ 3 fore us for our encouragement, we 
 have what is far more pr( cious, the assurance of the 
 vicarious virtue of His suffering, and of our partici- 
 
THE ABOLISHING OF DEATH. 
 
 \\^ 
 
 pation in the benefits resulting from it. Nor only this, 
 but our mystical incorporation into the body of Christ 
 makes His acts and sufferings marvellously ours, and 
 ours marvellously His, so that we no longer encounter 
 the last enemy alone, but may truly be said to die in 
 Christ, and to sleep in Him. Since His cross and 
 passion, it is quite another thing to be stretched upon 
 a bed of pain, cross though it be ; since He bowed His 
 sacred head, it is quite another thing that body and 
 soul should part. He has endured for us, and we 
 endure in Him, the weakness and dishonour to which 
 our mortal nature is subjected ; the dark, cold grave 
 is become to us the place of the Redeemer's rest, and 
 the dread void into which the disembodied s})irit passes, 
 a dwelling of peace and joyful expectation, which the 
 Saviour has enlightened and hallowed by His presence. 
 Thus, for those who are Christ's, is the sting of death 
 destroyed, the victory of the grave abolished, until 
 the hour shall come when "death and hell shall be 
 cast into the lake of fire." 
 
 And it is well, indeed, thric we should ever bear in 
 mind that our Blessed Lord has thus delivered them 
 who through fear of death were subject to bondage. 
 There are very man}^ especially among the young, 
 whose hearts are tender, wh(jse sensibilities are keen, 
 whose natural affections are strong, and who are well 
 disposed to cherish and to im[)rove all those domestic 
 and social charities vrhich render life so dear. Th(.y 
 
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 T//E ABOLISHING OF DEATH. 
 
 iTicay not have learned as yet to value as they ought 
 those graces of character which are distinctively Chris- 
 tian ; they may not be prepared as yet gratefully to 
 seek from the hand of Christ the most precious of the 
 gifts which He has received for man. But they do 
 regard, at least with something of natural piety, many 
 of those blessings which God conferred on man in his 
 unfallen estate ; and they must perforce soon feel, if 
 indeed they have not felt already, ]iow their keen 
 appreciation of the value of those blessings must, in a 
 fallen world, expose them peculiarly to the visitation 
 of sorrow, to the experience of mortal anguish. 
 
 Should they not then be told of Christ, as of One 
 who has abolished death ? Should they not be ten- 
 derly admonished to lay up their precious treasures 
 with Him, who alone can keep them in perpetual 
 safety ? Should they not be counselled to bring their 
 fears and cares and sorrcTVG to that coiii|)assionate 
 Friend of man, who alone "healoth t]i'Ma that are 
 broken in heart, and giveth medicine to In; i their 
 sickness." 
 
 Be it ever remembered that tliere is no other shelter 
 for the wounded spirit than that which He offers ; that 
 tliere is no other voice than His which has power to 
 say, " Your sorrow shall be turned into joy." 
 
 There is, indeed, another anodyne for the anguish 
 which the fear of death, the expei'ience of death, 
 occasion : a miserable relief, far more to be dreaded 
 
 i:i'i 
 
THE ABOLISHING OF DEATH. 
 
 119 
 
 than even that anguish itself. Yet to this relief men, 
 for the most part, turn instinctively, if they know 
 not or reject the great Deliverer. The fear of death 
 may lead men to shun ^/he thought of death ; to avoid 
 all contact with death ; to shrink from such offices of 
 Christian charity as would force them to familiarize 
 themselves with pain and suffering ; to narrow more 
 and more the range of thtir sympathies, in order to 
 exclude the hated and dreaded object : but hide 
 themselves as they will from their own flesh, they 
 hide themselves in vain, and they must learn at last 
 to harden themselves against the sight — the repeated 
 experience — of that which they so greatly fear. Tliey 
 must purchase exemption from pain at the cost of the 
 finer and purer sensibilities of their nature. As we 
 read of those whose conscience is seared with a hot 
 iron, even so must their hearts be seared, until at 
 length they can contemplate with fearless, yet with 
 joyless and hopeless indifference, either the death of 
 others or their own. This is what the man of the 
 world leai'ns to do, more or less completely, in respect 
 of that awful penalty to which sin has subjected our 
 race; this is the very scope and aim of the philosojihy 
 and of the practice of tlie world. But, alas, wliat a 
 degradation of the moral nature of man does not this 
 imply ! How clieaply does not the tempter bribe sucli 
 men to give themselves up to ruin ! How different 
 was the lanffua^ce which he addressed to our first 
 
 V \i\i 
 
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 mm 
 
 
 120 
 
 7V/£ ABOLISHING OF DEATH. 
 
 parents in Paradise from that with which he beguiles 
 men such as these ! To Adam and Eve he said, " Ye 
 shall not surely die ; " " Ye shall be as gods." He knew 
 full well that they loved and cherished life, as the 
 priceless gift of their Maker; and, accordingly, to 
 them he whispered, " There can be no such thing as 
 death for you ; think not that any harm can touch 
 your excellent and glorious being." But to the 
 children of our fallen world he adventures to say, 
 " Ye sltall surely die, yet why should you tremble or 
 grieve at your destiny ? Is, then, your poor life of 
 yesterday so very precious ? Nay, eat and drink, and 
 be content to die to-morrow." Can we endure for a 
 moment the thouoht of ffivino* ear to this cruel 
 mockery, this fiendish exultation over the misery of 
 our fallen estate ? Yet listen to it we must, if we 
 turn away from the voice of Him who came " that we 
 might have life, and that we might have it more 
 abundantly," and who, while He thus describes His 
 own gracious office towards us, warns us also against 
 our robber foe, who " cometh not but to steal, and to 
 kill, and to destroy." 
 
 If then we feel, as feel we must, that we cannot 
 endure in our own strength the bitter temporal 
 penalty which sin has brought upon us, that we cannot 
 <lare to encounter the sutierinos common to man 
 without some better hope than earth can give, some 
 sti'onger defence than any human arm can otter, let us 
 
THE ABOLISHING OF DEATH 
 
 121 
 
 come as lowly suppliants to Him " who hath abolished 
 death," entreating him to receive us under His mighty 
 and merciful protection. If we will " take His yoke 
 upon us, and learn of Him," He will never Llunt or 
 extinguish our human sensibilities, but much rather 
 exalt and purify them. The Redeemer will not 
 destroy, but much rather restore and consunnnate the 
 w^ork of the Creator; and, preserving in all their 
 freshness and tenderness the best affections of our 
 souls. He will place them under the safeguard of 
 celestial armour, covering us with "the helmet of 
 salvation " and with " the shield of faith." He will 
 teach us, too, to know the true meaning of the fearful 
 word " death ; " to dread no longer only its external 
 and palpable manifestations ; but to learn that the 
 body's death is but the result and the symptom of a 
 more terrible disease, yet more bitterly at variance 
 with the happiness of man, more utterly destructive 
 of his true life. 
 
 Knowing, as we do, that it is His gracious will to 
 relieve those griefs of which we ourselves are con- 
 scious, to remove those evils which our dim earthly 
 vision perceives to be evils ; let us also, with child- 
 like confidence, trust to Him when He warns us 
 of dangers which are as yet unseen, of evils the 
 malignity of which we do not as yet ap])re]iend. 
 
 Believing Him to be the Redeemer of the body, let 
 us believe Him to be also tiie Saviour of the soul ; 
 
 M! 
 
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 p I If 
 
 
 122 
 
 THE ABOLISHING OF DEATH. 
 
 and we shall know hereafter that far more than any 
 loss which we can in this life encounter, far more than 
 any suffering, relative or personal, which may oppress 
 us upon earth, is comprehended in that death which 
 has been abolished by our crucified and risen Lord. 
 
 
 1; 
 
 
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 :tr 
 
SERMON X. 
 
 1 
 
 Preached in Trinity College Chapel. 
 
 For the Tldnl Sunday after Easier. 
 
 S. John xvi. 22. — " And ye now therefore have sorrow : but 
 I will see yoii again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your 
 joy no man taketh from you." 
 
 It can, I imagine, be little doubted that Ave lose very 
 much of the instruction which our Lord's discourses 
 with His disciples before His suftcring were intended 
 to convey, if we regard them as addressed to the 
 disciples in their individual capacity, and as adapted 
 only to their condition and necessities at tlie moment. 
 The Church, by her selection of the Gospels for most 
 of the Simdays between Easter and Pentecost, teaches 
 us that the words spoken by our Lord before His 
 suffering shouVl be studied by us in contemplation of 
 His ascension, and that tlie comfort whicli He then 
 so graciously sought to communicate to the dejected 
 and troubled hearts of His apostles was designed also 
 for the consolation of His Church to the end of the 
 
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 124 yy/fi" soRRoiv of the travailing church. 
 
 world. It may be, and it has been tliouglit that His 
 deaOi was the sorrow, and His resurrection the joy, 
 of which the text speaks; nor need we hesitate to 
 admit tliat the language employed may have sub- 
 served the secondary ])urpose of awakening an ex- 
 pectation of speedy relief; or that, as partially and 
 imperfectly apprehended at the moment, it may have 
 seemed, to those who heard it, to point rather to some 
 such deliverance from distress, as was effected bv their 
 risen Lord's reappearance in their midst, than to the 
 great final deliverance, of which His resurrection was 
 the germ and pledge. Yet, if we look at the immediate 
 context of the passage before us, we must, I think, 
 be convinced that the absence of which our Lord 
 speaks is not the brief absence occasioned by His 
 death, that the return of which He speaks is not the 
 resurrection, but His second coming. " A little while, 
 and ye shall not see Me : and again, a little while, and 
 ye shall see Me, because I go to the Father." The 
 original marks a distinction here, which has not been 
 preserved in our version. The verb in the first clause 
 is not the same as that Avhich is employed in the 
 second, nor is its tense the same. It has been accu- 
 rately rendered, " A little while, and ye behold Me 
 not : and again, a little while, and ye shall see Me, 
 because I go to the Father." In a little while ye 
 cease to behold Me — to look upon Me — as ye are now 
 doing, and have long done : and again, a little while. 
 
THE SORROW OF THE TRAVAILIXG CHURCH. 1 25 
 
 and ye shall see Me. I, who shall have been with- 
 drawn from your sij^dit, shall be restored to your 'AV^xi ; 
 I shall appear agai!i. And why is this ? " Because 
 I go to the Father." It is obvious that this expression 
 refers, not to the death, but to the ascension of our 
 Lord ; nor can we doubt the correctness of this inter- 
 pretation of the words, when we remember how He 
 says elsewhere (xiv. 28), " Ye have heard how I 
 said unto you, I go away, and come again unto you. 
 If ye loved Me, ye would rejoice, because I said, I go 
 unto the Father;" and again, how He speaks of the 
 mission of the Comforter as being the consequence of 
 that " going away." We should observe also that, to 
 the minds of the disciples, the mystery of our Lord's 
 declaration lay mainly in the words " a little while," 
 which proves that this expression clashed with some 
 previous and more just conception which tliey had 
 begun to form of our Lord's absence with the Father, 
 which was to be compensated by the presence of 
 the Comforter. Sorrow had filled their heart in the 
 expectation of a prolonged absence, and now they 
 wondered to hear that it was only for a little while. 
 Again, during the absence of their Lord, they were 
 to weep and lament, while the world rejoiced ; they 
 were to be sorrowful, but, on His reappearance, their 
 sorrow was to be turned into joy. We read, indeed, 
 that between the death and resurrection of our Lord 
 "they mourned and wept" (S. Mark xvi. 10), and that 
 
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 126 T//£ SOA'/^Oir OF THE TRAVAILIXG CIIURCir. 
 
 " they were glad " when they saw the risen Lord. 
 But, surely, this sorrow and this ^oy are to be re<5^arded 
 only as tlie foretastes of the long night of mourning, 
 of the bright morning of joy, of which our Lord here 
 speaks. 
 
 And once more, if we observe the metaphorical 
 language which follows, we can scarcely doubt that 
 it relates to something else than our Lord's own 
 resurrection. That birth from the tomb was indeed 
 the miiditiest of all births. The Man was then born 
 into the world, and heavy sorrow, too, preceded the 
 birth. But the sorrow was His oivn ; no other throes 
 than His own brought on that wondrous birth; "of 
 the people there was none with Him." He only 
 was straitened till His baptism of blood had been 
 accomplished. 
 
 Yet the sorrow here spoken of by our Lord 
 represents, not His own sorrow, but that of His 
 disciples : " Ye now therefore have sorrow ; " and the 
 joy of the mother at the birth is likened to their 
 joy : ** I will see you again, and your heart shall 
 rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you." 
 
 The sorrow, then, would seem to be a long sorrow of 
 the followers of Christ during His bodily absence from 
 His Church ; the joy, their joy at His rea})pearing. 
 
 It may, however, be necessary to mention one 
 other point. There are those who say that the " seeing 
 of Christ again" is the seeing him hu faith, and the 
 
nug 
 the 
 
 77/^ SORROW OF THE TRAl'AIUXG CHURCH. 12/ 
 
 joy a present blessedness, resulting from that spn'ifmd 
 vision. Not to mention other ditHciilties which seem 
 to lie in tlie way of this interpretation, it may be 
 sufficient to observe that our Lord doef< speak uf this 
 privilege elsewhere, but in a way which seems clearly 
 to prove that He does not here refer to it. in the 
 fourteenth chapter He speaks of spiritual vision : ** Yet 
 a little while, and the world seetli Me no more ; but ye 
 see Me." Here, again, the word in both cases is "behold," 
 and in both the present tense is employed. " I am 
 withdrawn from the eyes of the world, but not from 
 yours ; you continue to look upon Me with the spiritual 
 sight, while the world no longer discerns Me with the 
 bodily sense." In the same chapter our Lord speaks 
 also of a spiritual presence. " I will love him and 
 will manifest Myself to him ; " " My Father will love 
 him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode 
 with him." But this is a presence with individuals, 
 an inward presenjce both of the Father and of the 
 Son, vouchsafed to the man " who loveth Christ and 
 keepeth His words." 
 
 Life is promised even now: "Because I live, ye 
 shall live also." Peace is promised : " Peace I leave 
 with you." Quietness and confidence are enjoined : 
 " Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be 
 afraid." But, beyond all this, there is surely a promised 
 return, the harbinger of a triumphant and im[)erisliable 
 joy : "I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, 
 
 
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 128 TY/TT SOKROW OF THE TR A VAILING CHURCH. 
 
 and your joy no man takoth from you." It would 
 have boon difficult to find any torm wliicli coidd havo 
 convoyod moro distinctly, moro unquoHtionaMy, than 
 that which is hore employed, the reappearance of oui* 
 Lord. It occurs in the following remarkable pa.ssages : 
 " And they shall f^oc, the Son of man coming in the 
 clouds of heaven " (St. Matt. xxiv. 30) ; " Hereafter 
 shall ye sre the Son of man sitting at the right hand 
 of power " (St. Matt. xxvi. G4) ; " Behold, Ke cometh 
 with clouds ; and every eye shall see Him " (Rev. i. 7). 
 Nor is it unworthy of remark that our Lord, in this 
 pass8j,"e, uses the same word to exf ^ss the act both of 
 Himself and of His disciples. Fii ^0 says, " A little 
 while, and ye shall 8ee Me," and then, " I will see you 
 again." 
 
 We may now proceed, then, to apply the declaration 
 of the text to the circumstances of the Christian Church 
 at large. " Ye now therefore have sorrow ; " " Ye shall 
 weep and lament." And why ? " The whole creation," 
 says S. Paul, " groaneth and travaileth in pain together 
 until now. And not only they, but ourselves also, which 
 have the firstfruits of the Spirit." It is no morbid 
 sorrow of which the text speaks ; no sullen, inactive, 
 despairing sorrow. It is a sorrow which strives, as 
 well as suffers ; which hopes and longs, as well as 
 weeps. The sorrow of tlie Christian Church — of the 
 individual Christian — is akin to the Lord's sorrow, of 
 which He spoke when he said, " How am I straitened 
 
 r, ■ 
 
THE SORROW OF THE TRAVAILIXG CliURC/f. 1 29 
 
 
 until it bo accomplished !" It is the sorrow of those 
 who refuse to recognize any other end for which all 
 things were made than the glory of God, and who 
 are assured that, in respect of fallen man, God's glory 
 is bound up with the triumph of the gospel of Christ. 
 And thus it is the sorrow of one who sees a vast 
 work progressing slowly ; subjected, apparently, to 
 strange mischances and defeats, sustaining what 
 appear to him to be humiliating losses, encountering 
 imlooked-for trials. 
 
 There is a sorjow which experience teaches us, as 
 we read history, or even as we personally observe the 
 course of the world, and see how the tide of human 
 opinion, like that of a winding and rapid river, is ever 
 taking some new direction, swinging violently from 
 one reach into the next, and compensating evermore 
 for the vehemence with which it has set in against one 
 bank, by the impetuosity with which it is propelled 
 against the other. We almost forget, amidst th(» 
 tumult and the dash of waves, that the river still flows 
 on, that there is a strong middle current, and that there 
 the work is done. But the stream has a long way to 
 flow, and till the promise is fulfilled, " I will see you 
 again," the work is not completed. 
 
 A very strange, a very sad thing it must seem to us 
 that the work should be so long in doing. But, again, 
 what is the w^ork ? Is it the accomplishing of the 
 number of the elect ? Were it only this, should not 
 
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 130 THE SORROW OF THE TRAVAILING CHURCH. 
 
 our sorrow be calm and patient ? Can we not wait 
 until the full number of pure and gentle souls shall 
 have been gathered in, out of whatever trouble ? Can 
 we not wait and watch until those meek, quiet spirits, 
 who love and fear God, «hall havH been taken home 
 from sick-beds or from other scenes of suffering, 
 purified and made white, as they could not have been 
 were life less saddening than it is ? 
 
 But shall we err in believing that there is another 
 reasor for our sorrow ? The Church may be viewed, 
 not only as an aggregate of individual believers, but 
 as an organized body, inspired by one undivided life. 
 May we not, then, patiently and courageously endure 
 sorrow on her behalf ? Has she no history ? We may 
 no+ be able to read that history aright, yet we cannot 
 doubt that the Church of Christ, in its collective 
 capacity, is still subjected to probation, still forbid to 
 say that " her warfare is accomplished." It may not 
 be so light a thing as we unwisely deem it, that the 
 religion of Christ should be subduing to itself slowly, 
 one after another, the fallacies of man's judgment 
 and the perversities of man's will ; that even the laws 
 of civil governments should be, perforce, rendering 
 homage to the law of Christ ; that, in our social re- 
 lations, we should be recognizing, more and more 
 fully, the principles of Christian morality ; that the 
 Great King and Lawgiver of the world should be thus 
 gradually and peacefully putting down " all rule and 
 
THE SORROW OF THE TRAVAILING CHURCH 13I 
 
 all authority and power " which is inconsistent with 
 His own. And can we say that God's glory is no^/ 
 promoted by the development of Christian character, 
 under diversities so wide of social and political con- 
 dition ? Do not our hearts glow, as we find ourselves 
 " one in Christ " with men of ages past, with whom 
 " out of Christ " we could have known no fellowship 
 whatever ? And can we think that the hearts of these 
 our fathers are less warm towards us than ours are 
 towards them ? As we glorify God in them, may not 
 they also glorify God in the great names of our later 
 times ? 
 
 Has not God provided at least " some better thing 
 for us, that they without us should not be made 
 perfect " ? If the manifold wisdom of God is to be 
 known unto principalities and powers in heavenly 
 places through the (7/utrc/<,may not the Church herself 
 learn that manifold wisdom more fully, more clearly, 
 by the devout contemplation of the diversified stages 
 of her own history ? May she not remember here- 
 after, with grateful admiration, all the way that the 
 Lord her God hath led her ? 
 
 So may we be content to have sorrow, " while the 
 firstfruits of God's creatrres" are beinix li'athered in; 
 while the Church is being " redeemed out of every 
 kindred, aiid tongue, and people, and nation," and 
 every age and every clime is summoned to l)ring its 
 own proper ofi'ering, to present its own precious living 
 
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 stones, to be " builded together for an habitation of God 
 through the Spirit." 
 
 Nor must we suffer ourselves to be amazed or per- 
 plexed, if the sorrow which we are called on to endure 
 should at times seem to be most unlike any sorrow 
 Avhich could possibly be consequent upon so glorious a 
 work. The beginning of the gospel suggests to us this 
 warning. How very strange is it that our Blessed 
 Lord should have suffered, in His own sacred person, 
 as He did ! What had Judas and Caiaphas, and Pilate 
 and Herod, and the rude Roman soldiers and the 
 clamorous Jewish multitude, to do with the redemption 
 of the world ? How hard to think that that was the 
 sorrow of one travailino; with a most glorious birth ! 
 So, too, with martyrs and confessors ; so, too, with the 
 unflinching advocates of truth in every age. The man 
 of the world might abhor, or despise, or pity them ; 
 he has ever found it impossible to esteem or love them. 
 His language has ever been, " What good can ever 
 come of this wretched contempt of life, of this stolid 
 insensibility to suffering, of this unreasoning and 
 obstinate adherence to mere words and names ? " Yet 
 good did come of it. The dust of the conflict has 
 passed aAvay ; the cloud of bitter calumny or cruel 
 mockery which once enveloped the champions of the 
 truth has been dispelled ; we now see only the abiding 
 work of faith or labour of love ; we see " the wise 
 shininfj as the brig-htness of the firmament," and them 
 
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 THE SORROW OF THE TRAVAILING CHURCH. 1 33 
 
 that " turned many to righteousness as the stars for 
 ever and ever." It must have been a strong ctlbrt of 
 faith on the part of S. Paul, when a prisoner, to write 
 the words, "The Word of God is not bound." We 
 know, as he could not, the wondrous liberty which 
 the Word of God acquired, not then only, but even 
 until now, from the fact of his being " the prisoner of 
 Jesus Christ." 
 
 Nor let us forget that if this sorrow is laid upon 
 us in respect of the Church at large, so must it also be 
 in respect of ourselves. Every regret and anxiety 
 which we feel for the body of Christ without us will 
 find its counterpart if we look within. The defects of 
 the body are exemplified in our own instance, and we 
 must accordingly endure to sorrow for our own 
 personal infirmities and errors. 
 
 There is a very strong tendency in the mind of 
 man to escape from this sorrow. It is humiliating, it 
 is wearisome, it is dishearteuing. There is a tendency 
 to approve ourselves, and also^ if it may be, to realize 
 some present good, which may satisfy us, excluding 
 the restlessness of expectation, the sickness of hope 
 deferred. But nature and revelation alike assure us 
 that all such hopes and purposes are vain. There is no 
 sure ground which we can hold, until we accept the 
 sorrow and embrace the joy of the g(jspel. The joy 
 arms us to bear the sorrow. No man taketh it from us. 
 When Christ sees us a<j:ain it shall be ours for ever. 
 
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 134 T//E SORROW OF THE TRAVAILING CHURCH. 
 
 And in this confidence we are content to sorrow 
 now ; to sorrow with the checks and losses, and defeats 
 of that heavenly kingdom, which, through all these, 
 is evermore advancing to its final triumph ; to sorrow 
 with a grief, which even now purifies and exalts our 
 nature, and which shall hereafter be turned into joy ; 
 to sorrow, moreover, for " a little while." " Again 
 a little while, and ye shall see Me." " A little while." 
 S. Augustine says, " This little while appears long to us, 
 since it is still progressing ; when it is past, then shall 
 we feel how little a while it was." Do we not even 
 now feel this in respect of the ^^ast ? Do we not 
 almost shudder as we see past years collapse, as it 
 were, till they seem concentrated in a point ? We 
 shall know hereafter how little a while the time 
 allotted to our Chi;istian sorrow was. Let us, then, be 
 well content to sorrow — to note, with honest and 
 intelligent regret, our own shortcomings, to mourn 
 over our follies, to repent us truly of our sins, to sorrow 
 for men's unbelief of Christian truth, for their dis- 
 regard of Christian morality. Let us be content cor- 
 dially to symj)athize with glorious doctrines, which to 
 the world are foolishness, and with a holy rule of life, 
 which to the world is impractical)le ; for, a little while, 
 and the world's realities will be a dream, and our so- 
 called dream a reality. Chi'ist will see His Church 
 again ; and then the hearts of all, who have sorrowed 
 with Him and for His Church, shall rejoice, and theii' 
 joy no man taketh from them. 
 
ill 
 
 "• 1 • ^* 
 
 life, 
 
 SERMON XI. 
 Preached in Trinity College Chapel. 
 
 Foi' the Sunday after Ascension Day, 
 
 Hebrews ii, 8, 9. — "But now we see not yet all things put 
 under him. But we see Jesus, who was made a little lower 
 than the angels, for the suftering of death crowned with 
 glory and honour ; that He by the grace of God should 
 taste death for every man." 
 
 In the preceding context the writer of this Epistle 
 quotes the eighth Psalm, in proof of his assertion that 
 " the world to come," the kingdom of the Messiah, the 
 foundations of which are laid in this present time, but 
 which is to be consummated hereafter, has not been 
 [)Iaced by Almighty God in subjection to angels. He 
 probably refers to the belief, prevalent among the 
 Hebrew people, and supported by many passages of 
 the Old Testament Scriptures, that God, in earlier 
 times, governed this world by the subordinate ministry 
 of angels ; he would, at all events, instruct those to 
 whom he wrote to recognize, imder the new dispen- 
 sation which had lately dawned upon them, a nearer 
 access to their Great Father in heaven, a marvellous 
 
 
 
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 136 T//E WORLD TO COME SUBJECTED TO MAK 
 
 advancement of the glory and dignity of our humanity. 
 Not to angels is the world to come put in subjection ; 
 but to whom ? This inquiry he solves by quoting the 
 . Psalm above mentioned, in which the prophet David, 
 no doubt, primarily describes the position of man by 
 creation in this present world, his glory and dignity 
 as being set over all the works of God in this present 
 time, all those works of God which pertain immediately 
 to his earthly dwelling-place. 
 
 We should not, I conceive, be mistaken in suj)- 
 posing that the Psalmist's apprehension of the import 
 of his words was restricted within these limits ; that 
 he was celebrating the praises of God the Creator and 
 Preserver, and confessing His goodness to man as the 
 inheritor of an earthly dominion in which the divine 
 bounty had enthroned him. Yet the words which he 
 uttered might have had a meaning no less true and 
 far more lofty, for they were the words of Him who 
 spake by the prophets as well as of the prophet him- 
 self ; and as He, at times, taught men to record dim 
 visions of glory or of awe, the import of which they 
 little apprehended, so again, when the human under- 
 standing and affections spoke their own language, and 
 drew their immediate inspiration from the sensible 
 world around them. He might still make their poem a 
 prophecy, and invest their tribute of praise to the God 
 of nature, with a hidden sense to be realized only in 
 the wondrous doings of the God of grace. 
 
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THE WORLD TO COME SUBJECTED TO MAN. 1 37 
 
 And thus the writer of this Epistle undoubtiiigly 
 applies the language of this Psalm to things far higher 
 than those to which it, in the first instance, relates ; 
 and interprets it as dcjlaring, not man's short-lived 
 and limited supremacy over a world which has been 
 made subject to vanity, but his perpetual and un- 
 restricted dominion over the great world which is to 
 come — the " kingdom which cannot be moved." 
 
 In his brief comment on the Psalm, he dwells on 
 the words, "He hath put all things under his feet," 
 and, neglecting the words which immediately follow, 
 and which would seem to narrow down the scope of 
 the declaration to the comparatively petty rule which 
 man now exercises over the animate and inanimate 
 creation, he insists on the vastness of the dominion 
 which is here affirmed, apart from any such limitation, 
 " For in that He put all in subjection under him. He 
 left nothing that is not put under him." He would 
 carry on our thoughts and hopes far beyond the 
 narrow bounds of earth and time, and would teach us 
 to ponder thv>se wondrous words of promise, " Heirs 
 of God, and joint-heirs with Christ." 
 
 Yet, as must be obvious to all, the promise still 
 waits its accomplishment. " But now we see not yet 
 all things put under him." Man has not entered on 
 his vast inheritance. Yet have we a most glorious 
 earnest of the possession which has been purchased 
 for him. That which is not fulfilled as respects our 
 
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 138 T//E WORLD TO COME SUBJECTED TO MAN. 
 
 humanity at large, is fulfilled in its Great Head and 
 Representative. " We see Jesus, who has been made 
 a little lower than the angels, crowned with .^lory and 
 honour." 
 
 Here it may be well to observe on an opinion 
 which has been held by many, that the writer of this 
 Epistle quotes the language of the eighth Psalm as 
 applicable to our Blessed Lord alone, and that it is of 
 Him that he speaks when he says, " But now we see 
 not yet all things put under him." First of all, a 
 careful examination of the whole passage will, I think, 
 convince us that this opinion is incorrect. There has 
 been no mention made of our Lord before the words, 
 " But we see Jesus ; " and so there can be no adequate 
 grammatical reason for supposing that the {^receding 
 statement, " But now we see not yet all things put 
 under him," refers to our Lord. These words naturally 
 refer to the subject of the Psalm before quoted, to 
 " man " and " tlie son of man," of whom the prophet 
 speaks. And, again, can we reasonably suppose that, 
 while the Psalm undoubtedly refers, in its primary 
 sense, to the human race collectively, we should be 
 justified in restricting it, in its higher application, to 
 our Blessed Lord alone ? Surely it is still 'r)\an, of 
 whom the Divine Spirit speaks the glorious things 
 which did indeed underlie the words, while David 
 uttered them with a lower and narrower apprehension 
 of their meaning. And, once more, all that we are 
 
 
THE WORLD TO COME SUBJECTED TO MAN. 1 39 
 
 taught of the relation of the redeemed to our Lord — 
 of the body of Christ to its Divine Head — would 
 forbid our refusing to appropriate, with trembling 
 thankfulness and self-abasement, this wondrous de- 
 claration of the rich bounty of our Heavenly Father. 
 We must not, then, venture to circumscribe the import 
 of this great saying, " The world to come has been put 
 in subjection to man." 
 
 But, while we thus interpret the argument of the 
 sacred writer, we would also by no means forget that 
 the glory and honour to which our redeemed humanity 
 is to be advanced is derived to it only through Him 
 who is its Head; and that the word of prophecy, 
 while it is not 7'estricted in its application to Him 
 alone, yet finds ui Him its incomparably most glorious 
 fulfilment. *' The Firstborn among many brethren " 
 is indeed the Firstborn, and the Church may wisely 
 use of Him alone, in celebrating His ascension into 
 heaven, those glorious words in which she rejoices to 
 know that all who belong to Him assuredly have their 
 part. In Him, in respect of His own sacred person, 
 we can indeed believe that the word of promise is 
 abundantly fulfilled ; in Him aLme can we dare to 
 think that it shall receive its fulfilment in respect of 
 others. 
 
 The writer of the Epistle, then, while he intimates 
 that the prophecy is far from having received its 
 final accomplishment, instructs us in the text, in very 
 
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 140 T//£ WORLD TO COME SUBJECTED TO MAN. 
 
 remarkable terms, to fix our thoughts on the glorious 
 events in "vvhich it has been already realized. "We 
 see Jesus, who has been made a little lower than the 
 angels." These words are, as it would seem, intro- 
 duced for the purpose of showing that the language 
 of the Psalm is applicable to our Lord; that to Him, 
 as man, belongs the exaltation of which it speaks, 
 since He, by becoming man, incurred the comparative 
 humiliation, in the scale of created being, which the 
 Psalmist declares to be the lot of him, who is, never- 
 theless, the object of the marvellous beneficence of 
 God. " Jesus," he says, " has been made a little lower 
 than the anfijels." The acts and sufferinijs of our 
 Blessed Lord are repeatedly represented in Holy 
 Scripture as possessing an enduring, imperishable 
 effect, in respect both of Himself and of those who 
 are His. If He is seen by S. John in glory in heaven, 
 it is as a lamb standing, as having been slain ; " and 
 so here we are said to " see Jesus, who has been made 
 a little lower than the angels." Lower than they are 
 He cannot be now, to whom the Name has been given 
 which is above every name ; lower than they are He 
 cannot be, for " they which shall be accounted worthy 
 to attain that world, and the resurrection from the 
 dead, shall be equal to the angels " hereafter. But we 
 may well believe that it is an abiding portion of His 
 excellent glory, that He has been made a little lower 
 than the angels by the assumption of our feeble and 
 mortal nature. 
 
 
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THE WORLD TO COME SUBJECTED TO J/J.V. 14I 
 
 and 
 
 the 
 
 we 
 
 His 
 
 i\ver 
 and 
 
 Him, then, who thus abased Himself, " we see, on 
 account of the suffering of death, crowned with glory 
 and honour." 
 
 There can, I conceive, bo little doubt that the 
 sacred writer here designs to contrast ahi^oliitcbj the 
 present non-fulfilment of the })ro})hecy in respect of 
 the human race at large, wit!) its fulfilment in respect 
 of our Lord, leaving out of sight for the time any 
 possible tarrying of the promise in respect of Him ; 
 contemplating Him simply as " set on the right hand 
 of the throne of the Majesty in the heavens," without 
 reference to the truth which is elsewhere stated, that 
 He is there seated " until His enemies shall be made 
 His footstool." Nor need we wonder at this, for He 
 Itas entered into His rest ; He has received the joy that 
 was set before Him ; He is, in His own sacred person, 
 the great ensample of what the prophetic word has 
 said that they who are His shall be made in Him 
 hereafter. If His kingdom is still to come, it is rather 
 in respect of the ingathering of His elect, and the 
 subjugation of all hostile power, than in respect of 
 the accession of aught of personal glory or felicity to 
 the Great King Himself. 
 
 So we are here taught to look, with the eye of 
 faith, on Him who is thus exalted, and to look for- 
 ward, with awe-struck faith and hope, to the great 
 harvest of which His exaltation is the firstfruits. 
 Observe, too, the cause which the sacred writer assigns 
 
 
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 142 THE WORLD TO COME SUB'JECTED TO MAX. 
 
 for this exaltation. " For the sufrerinnr of death ; " 
 " Because lie lias suffered death." , 
 
 Some would connect these words with that which 
 precedes — " made a little lower than the angels," and 
 would explain them as meaning, " in order that Ho 
 might, by the assumption of a mortal nature, sufier 
 death." There can, however, as I conceive, be no rea- 
 sonable doubt that they are to be connected with that 
 which follows. Our Blessed Lord was, as man, crowned 
 with glory and honour because He sutlered death. 
 This was His path, as man, to glory, and that by reason 
 of the fall of man. There was, as we are taught to 
 believe, no way for man to safety and to honour except 
 through death, and there was none who could thus pass 
 through death to safety and to honour except sinless 
 man. All others might, must, pass to death ; none 
 could pass iitroiKjh it. 
 
 We are accustomed, perhaps, to rest too much in 
 the thought that this was so by God's appointment. 
 This is, indeed, most true; yet God's appointments are 
 not, as man's often are, arbitrary, unreasoning; and 
 while we cannot possibly penetrate the meaning of 
 this wondrous secret, 3'et we may confidently hope to 
 learn hereafter why Jesus should have been crowned 
 with glory and honour because He suffered death. 
 His death was, it is most true, a great work of mercy 
 and self-saeritiee, and on this account acceptable to 
 God ; but we have strong reason to conclude that this 
 
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 THE WORLD TO COME SUBJECTED TO M.IM 1 43 
 
 WAS not its only merit, but that it was, l)y laws eternal, 
 which we can in no wise appivhend, flu', work which 
 must of necessity he done if the ruin of tlie fall was to 
 be repaired. " lly death He destroyed him that had 
 the power of death ; " and to His great act there per- 
 tained this antecedent virtue, independently of all those 
 gracious characteristics which arc inseparable from it, 
 as an act of obedience to the Father's will and of love 
 unutterable towards man. 
 
 But, havinij: thus assi^^-ned the meritorious cause of 
 our Lord's exaltation, the sacred writer proceeds to 
 mention its final cause in respect of man, the real end 
 which it was designed to effect. He was thus exalted 
 because He had suffered death, but He was also thus 
 exalted in order that " He might taste death for every 
 man." He had tasted death — this He could not taste 
 again ; but it would seem to be here taught that the 
 virtue of His death, in respect of ourselves, is conse- 
 quent upon His exaltation. For Himself, it was impos- 
 sible that He should be holden of death ; so surely as 
 He died, so surely must He rise again ; l)ut if we look 
 to the benefits which have resulted to our race, we 
 must attri])ute them not alone to His suliering, but to 
 His exaltation also. " Him hath God exalted with His 
 right hand, a Prince and a Saviour, to give repent- 
 ance to Israel, and the forgiveness of sins ; " " He was 
 delivered for our offences, and raised again for our justi- 
 fication." 
 
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 144 T//£ WORLD TO COME SUBJECTED TO MAN. 
 
 The tasting cloath for every man is the consequence, 
 not merely of the cross and passion, but also of the 
 glorious resurrection and ascension. So, by the gracious 
 will and purpose of Aliniglity God, was our Blessed 
 Lord's death made fruitful to our eternal benefit. He 
 stooped so low, He has been lifted up so high, in order 
 that we, being made conformable to His deatii, might 
 also know the power of His resurrection. Surely there 
 is something in this thou^dit which must fdl us with 
 the profoundest gratitude. It is not only while He 
 was " a pilgrim on the world's highway," it is not 
 only in Gethsemane or on Calvary, that the Son of 
 God is seen working out our deliverance ; the gladness 
 of the resurrection morning, the triumph of the ascen- 
 sion, are not His alone, but ours also in Him. As " for 
 us men and for our salvation He came down from 
 heaven," so, too, " for us men and for our salvation " 
 He returns thither once more ; and when the gates of 
 heaven lift up their heads, and the everlasting doors 
 are opened, it is not siuiply to do all honour to the 
 mighty Conqueror, the King of Glory, but also to make 
 ready for Him the way to the throne of His mediatorial 
 kingdom, where He may receive, and whence He may 
 shower down, rich gifts of grace for man. 
 
 We are taught, then, to regard the ascension of our 
 Blessed Lord, not only as an event in itself most august 
 and glorious, as being the consummation of His personal 
 triumph, the reward of His endurance unto death ; but, 
 
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 THE WORLD TO COME SUBJECTED TO MAN. 
 
 145 
 
 wrou 
 
 much more, as a '.iiiglity act of G( 
 deliverance, whereby was secured for every man whose 
 trust is reposed on Christ, his 2)ortion in the blessings 
 whieli our Lord purchased by condescending to taste 
 of death. And, again, we are taught to look tv) tl.at 
 ascended Lord as the iirstfruits of the humanil; wl'vch 
 He has redeemed; to see in Him, crowned as He is 
 with glory and honour, the pledge of the utt-'miost 
 fulfilment of the word of promise, which has told us 
 that " all things shall 1 e put under the feet of man/' 
 
 It is a most solemn question for us all to ask of 
 ourselves, whetlier we do, as the sacred writer speaks, 
 with the eye of faith nea Him who is thus crowned 
 with glory and honour ; wdiether we do discern in His 
 exaltation the assurance which God has thereby given 
 to ourselves of our own glorious destiny, as members of 
 that Divine Head. S. Paul distinctly teaches us that 
 (rod "hath quickened us togetlier with Christ, and 
 lla^^ I'aised us up together, and made us sit together 
 n\ heavenly places in Christ Jesus." Have these 
 wondrous words a meaning ? Do they teach us of a 
 privilege wlij^fh is assuredly ours in God's gi'acioiis 
 purpose, potentially ours as Christian men — a ])rivi- 
 lege which >t is alike our duty and our ha|»piness t(» 
 make our own in very d^ed \ Men speak at times ol' 
 })reparing for ilcnili, and sjxak t(;o often as if this were 
 a work which a fow honrs, or at most a few days, inn y 
 accunq)lish. Let us rather think of pi-eparing for an 
 
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 146 77/Zi WORLD TO COME SUBJECTED TO MAN: 
 
 eternal life, .jid ask ourselves whether these our Itrief 
 days on earth can possibly be a time too long f(jr a 
 preparation such as this. Has the God who made us 
 desio^ned to invest us hereafter with the " weight of 
 glory " wliicli we have been contemplating ? Is the 
 great world to come to be put in subjection to tlie 
 redeemed from among men ? Does the glory of our 
 ascended Lord assure us of an exaltation akin to 
 His \ Has He indeed said, " To him that overcometh 
 will I grant to sit with Me on My throne, even as I 
 also overcame, and am set down with My Father in 
 His thione ; " and shall we not feel, in the inmost 
 depth of our souls, the sacred obligation to prepare 
 ourselves, by God's help, for the wondrous inheritance 
 to whicL wo have been called ? 
 
 We may, if we will, idly amuse ourselves with the 
 fleeting pleasures and interests of this life, forgetful of 
 all beyond it ; but it is only a very little while, and all 
 hopes and possessions on which we may have been 
 reposing as substantial realities will have vanished as 
 a dream. The glories, the pomps, the enjoyments of 
 the world will have passed away, like scenes described 
 upom some pictured veil ; and when that veil is with- 
 drawn, we must stand for evermore face to face with 
 those imperisliable verities, which it is now our highest 
 duty to anticipat'f'. AVhat condition can be so miser- 
 able as that ' >f one who shall them be found to have 
 deliberately judged hinibself anw-rthy of eternal life, 
 
THE WORLD TO COME SUBJECTED TO MAX. 14^ 
 
 by having idly and thanklessly persisted, during the 
 time of his visitation here, in regarding God's promised 
 gift as a thing unworthy of his thoughts, his hopes, his 
 efforts, and his prayers ? 
 
 Let, then, the remembrance of the great life to 
 come have at least some recognized and definite in- 
 fluence on our manner of dealing with the life which 
 now is. Let no day be without its glance directed 
 heavenwards, without its humble and diligent endea- 
 vour to approve ourselves in the sight of Him whose 
 mercy has been so strangely mindful of us, the feeble 
 and eiring sons of men. Let it be more and more our 
 heart's desire, our steadfast pur])ose, to do here on earth 
 " all such good works as God lias prepared for us to 
 walk in." So shall we walk hereafter in the lioht and 
 glory of that wondrous life, which shall be the inherit- 
 ance of them to whom God hath put in suljection the 
 world whicli is to come. 
 
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 SERMON XII. 
 Preached ix Trinity College Chapel. 
 
 For Whitsun JJay. 
 
 ErifEsiANS iv. 30. — "And grieve not the Holy Spirit of God, 
 whereby ye are sealed unto the day of redemption." 
 
 God's gracious gift of the Spirit, of which our Blessed 
 Lonl sju^ke so eiin)hatically as being " the promise of 
 tile Father," i^ a gift bestowed on the whole Church 
 lailitunt throughout her whole warfare ; and we may 
 well believe the external displays of power by which 
 ills ad\tut and His presence with the Church were 
 market I in the iKginning of the gospel, glorious and 
 admirable a they were, to have been nevx'rtheless 
 sul (ordinate and subsidiary to that unseen internal 
 npt'ration, that great work of silent spiritual energy, 
 which He was to effect, not then only, but until the 
 tinal "perfer-ting of the saints." It is, surely, most 
 necessary that we should bear in mind that, at all 
 t'M'nts, the agency of the Blessed Spirit was not re- 
 stricled to the working of physical wonders; tliat it 
 did not cease when these wonders ceased, but was and 
 
THE HOLY Sri KIT'S SEALIXG. 
 
 149 
 
 is exerted still, in a higher region, in a manner not 
 less wondrous, though less obvious ; in a manner in 
 accordance with the laws of man's nature and witli 
 the external prescriptions and institutions of tht^ 
 kingdom of Christ. 
 
 To this universal and perpetual operation of the 
 Holy Ghost the text points us ; briefly declaring, as 
 it does, both the priceless benefits conferred ui)on 
 us by the Divine Comforter, and our conse(pient 
 obligation to Him. And, first, what are the beneiits 
 of which it speaks, as being bestowed upon us by tlie 
 Holy Ghost ? It refers us both to the past and to the 
 future — to a past gift and to a future hope, of whicli 
 that gift is the earnest. " Whereby," or rather " by 
 whom, ye are sealed " — this is past ; " unto the day of 
 redemption " — this is to come, and suggests hopes and 
 expectations whicli enhance, beyond all thought, oui- 
 estimation of the value of the sealing. " Ye are sealed," 
 or rather, " ye were sealed," for the word describes a 
 past act, performed for us at a definite time. 80, in 
 the first chapter of this Epistle, the apostle says, "In 
 whom" (that is,in Christ) "having also believed, ye wer<' 
 sealed with the Holy Spirit of promise." Yo wwe 
 marked as God's own, and that by an act of the H(jly 
 Spirit; set apart for God's service, and sanctified to 
 it. But we shall understand more clearly what is 
 implied in the act of sealing, if we look to the words 
 which follow, and Avhich express the future hope to 
 
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 T//£ HOLY SPIRIT'S SEALING. 
 
 which that sealmg was directed. " To the day," or, " for 
 tlio day of redcmptiou." Sealed for this ; so that, so far 
 as God's will and act are concerned, you might bo kept 
 in safety unto it, preserved from the misery of coming 
 short of it, endued with power to attain it. And 
 what is the day of redem^yfion ? The word is an 
 empliatic word, denoting titter redemption — final and 
 complete redemption ; final, without further peril of a 
 relapse into the slavery of sin ; complete, as extending 
 to the wdiole man, in body, soul, and spirit. For this 
 l-ilcssed consummation, then, is the Holy Spirit said to 
 have set His seal upon us; and inasmuch as He 
 is elsewhere called the " earnest of our inheritance," 
 we may learn that His sealing conveys to us potentially 
 all which we are at the last to receive actually. The 
 '• earnest " of the inheritance is ours, and if that be 
 held fast and reverently cherished, then shall the 
 inheritance itself be ours also. 
 
 This, then, is the teaching of the apostle. He says 
 to us, " The Holy Spirit has set His seal upon you ; He 
 sought you, when you sought Him not ; He marked 
 you as His own ; and this, in order that you might 
 be safely kept unto that great day, when your souls 
 shall be for ever delivered from suffering and from 
 sin, and your bodies ransomed from the power of 
 death and the grave. He gave you eternal life in its 
 beginning ; He has since dispensed to you all things 
 which pertain to life and godliness ; and this, in order 
 
THE HOLY SPIRIT'S SEALING. 
 
 151 
 
 imsf 
 
 that he may at last bring you to the secure possession 
 of eternal life in its perfection." And, on the ground 
 of these vast benefits conferred, what admonition does 
 the apostle give us ? " Grieve not the Holy Spirit of 
 God." The terms of this admonition involve two 
 other cocrent aro^uments for the solicitous obedience 
 which is required of us. The Spirit, by whom we 
 were sealed, by whom man's complete redemption has 
 been thus graciously contemplated and provided for, 
 is the Ilolif Spirit of God. God's Spirit — the Almighty, 
 Eternal Spirit ; and, again, the Spirit of all purity and 
 sanctity — the Ilohj Spirit. Yet, great as He is. His 
 tender mercies are over us ; holy as He is, He looks, 
 not with displeasure only, but much more with sorrow, 
 upon human error and sin. We cannot think or speak 
 of God according to the truth ot His incomprehensible 
 nature,and He therefore deigns to speak to us of Him- 
 self in our own language, and warns us not to grieve 
 One wdio can knoAV no grief Yet we may be sure that 
 there is, above and beyond all our thouglits, some truth 
 of God which answers, in this regard, to our dim con- 
 ceptions of His nature ; something purer, stronger, 
 better far than any human pity or sorrow ; a loving 
 knowledge, a tender care, in respect of the creatures 
 whom He has fearfully and wonderfully made, which 
 not only justifies, but even necessitates the warning of 
 the text, not to fjrieve our heavenly Guide and Coun- 
 sellor. How thankful should we be that God has thus 
 
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 77/£ HOLY SPIRIT'S SEALIXG. 
 
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 spoken to us, tliat to us has " the word of this salva- 
 tion" been sent! Do we not know our weakness, our 
 proneuuris to error, our liability to be misled by sordid 
 interests, by unv^'orthy desires, by the deceits of the 
 world, the flesh, and the devil ? And have we not 
 often felt how inadequate to the regulation of our 
 conduct are any laws of mere moi-ality, any motives 
 which human philosophy, however pure and ennobling, 
 may propose to us ? Do we not feel also that man 
 comes to us to exact obedience to his rules, whether of 
 law or of conventional morality, threatening us, if we 
 transgress them, with punishment or disgrace, yet 
 giving us no strength, no will, to obey ? And, again, 
 may we not be tempted to look upon the world's laws 
 as selfish rather than benevolent, made for others' 
 good rather than for our own — for the general benefit, 
 at best, of the vast complicated machine of society, of 
 which we are but infinitesimal and neglected portions ? 
 Such thoughts will visit the mind, especially in ti'ial 
 or distress, and Avill tend, according to the tempera- 
 ment of the individual, to crush him or to harden him. 
 And, again, have we not a self — a life within — which 
 is not responsible to human law, nor even to human 
 opinion; a life, the burden of which we must bear 
 alone ; a life unknown to others, and scarcely known 
 to ourselves ? The apostle said, not indeed without 
 cause, of the Gentiles in their heathen state, that they 
 had " no hope," and were *' without God in the world." 
 
 W\ : 
 
THE HOLY SPIRITS SEALIXG. 
 
 153 
 
 But liow utterly is all tins cliangod for us as Clii-istiaiv ! 
 There is One Avlio has cared — who is carinii' — for us ; 
 One Avho sealed us, set His holy impress ui)OU us, 
 and that in order that we might be kept safe for the 
 day of redemi)tion. For that day He Avatches over us 
 now ; knowing all that we are, yet loving us, and 
 entreating us not to grieve Him. What a strong- 
 motive is here presented to godly living ! We have 
 been chosen by this Blessed Spirit as o1)jects of His 
 care. He sees the issues of the destiny of man, knows 
 for what man was made ; beholds even now, with the 
 vision of the Divine Prescience, " the manifestation of 
 the sons of God," and has sealed us that we may have 
 our part therein. Can we, then, despise this love ? 
 We may think the admonitions of men, even of our 
 best friends, to be short-sighted or arbitrary, but dare 
 we doubt the w^isdom or the tender forbearance of 
 Him by whom we "w^erc sealed unto the day of 
 redem])tion" ? 
 
 1^Q>^ rjrcat is this Spirit ! — ever with us, knowing us 
 altogether, ever reading us aright ; One with whom no 
 concealment, no disguise, can avail; "to whom all hearts 
 are open, all desires known, and from whcjm no secrets 
 are hid." He knoweth us altogether, and we must be 
 content to recognize this absolute knowledge. We 
 must strive to feel it less and less as a humiliation 
 and a terror, to feel it more and more as our best 
 confidence and joy. And, again, how liuhj is this Spirit I 
 
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 77/yr //OLY sriRirs sealing. 
 
 Men have a morbid sympathy with each otlior's faults. 
 There are errors in others which our own weakness 
 incapacitates us for reproving; and we know, too, in 
 our turn, liow to seek a shelter in the weaknesses and 
 inconsistencies of others. But here is no such screen ; 
 we are brought into contact with absolute holiness, 
 with purity of which we cannot adequately conceive. 
 " God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all." And, 
 once more, how (Jiuclous is this Spirit ! Human rebuke 
 maybe unduly severe ; even a parent may fail to make 
 a child feel tb-it chastisement is administered in love ; 
 the word of reproof may express anger rather than 
 sorrow ; but the Spirit of God warns us " not to f/rieve 
 Him." Let us think, thon, of the power and majesty 
 and lovingkindness of the Word of God which the 
 text addresses to us. It is with us everywhere ; it 
 follows us into our retirements ; it is heard in solitude ; 
 it speaks in the depths of our heart. It controls not 
 acts or Avords only, but our thoughts also. It points 
 us to the IjCGjinninsc and to the end of our course — to 
 our entrance into the kingdom of grace, to the gate of 
 the kingdom of glory. It reminds us alike of Him 
 who once said, " Suffer the little children to come unto 
 ^le, and forbid them not," and of Him wdio shall here- 
 after say, " Come, ye blessed of My Father." It tells 
 us of a divine love, which, when we could not choo<^o 
 for ourselves, chose for us the blessing of eternal life ; 
 of a divine love, which prepared for us, before the 
 
THE I/Or.y .SPIRIT'S SI ALIXG. 
 
 155 
 
 frmndation of tlie world, "a kini^dom which cannot l)t> 
 moved." It tells us of One who is ever with us, who 
 knows us altogether ; who knew, when He set His seal 
 u])()n us, how frail wv were ; who still loves us, not- 
 withstanding our many and grievous provocations, 
 and still vouchsafes to say to us, " Grieve not the Holy 
 Spirit of God." 
 
 May wc not learn hence what is the only sure 
 basis on which to ground a " righteous and sober life"? 
 A life which rcalbj answers to this description, is 
 really worthy of this character, must be also "godly." 
 The will of God must be made the great rule of human 
 conduct, and that will as it is illustrated by the pre- 
 cepts, and enforced by the sanctions, of the Christian 
 covenant. IVIay we not learn a most important lesson 
 here respecting our dealing with others, and especially 
 with the young ? Do not parents often yearn for the 
 welfare of their children ; long, with trembling and 
 with tears, for their preservation from the snares of 
 life ? Do they not often feel that the fences which 
 they make about them, in the way of counsels and 
 cautiims, are but as spiders' webs ? Do they not feel, 
 in suggesting what they deem to be the good motive, 
 how wholly inadequate it must prove to the hard 
 service on which it is to be employed ? And so it 
 must ever be, except we ascend to the highest of all 
 motives, and seek to make those whom we love good 
 Christians, in order that they may become good citizens, 
 
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 THE HOLY SPlRirS SEAI.IXG. 
 
 and lioncst, solwr men. He whom we are wai-ned riDt 
 to grieve, sutters not tliat any other should intrude 
 U])on His sacred ofHee, as the great Guide and Coun- 
 sellor of man. If we have recourse to less sacred, less 
 exalted aid, such aid must surely fail ns. 
 
 It is the Si)irit hy wliom we live, by whom we 
 must also Avalk. If we vainly seek t(j walk by some 
 other rule than His, the life which He has inspiied 
 must Avax feeble and die. We can do nothing good, 
 except under the guidance of the Spirit of God. 
 
 But there is another lesson which the text may 
 teach us. " Grieve not the Holy Spirit of God." What 
 a light does this warning cast upon our daily life ! 
 Does God's Spirit witness that life ? Is He grieved at 
 it ? Here is a rule by whicli to try ourselves, difi'ering 
 very widely from the rules which we ordinarily a})ply. 
 All may seem well toman, all may seem at least excus- 
 able to our own judgment of ourselves, and yet the 
 Holy Spirit of God may have been grieved. Is it 
 strange that He should be grieved at our thoughts, at 
 our words and works, at the common temper of our 
 mind, at the habitual tone of our discourse, at the 
 general aim and purpose of our conduct ? How very 
 nuich is implied in not grieving Him ; how very much 
 mj^leaslng the Spirit of holiness ! Yet do we not know 
 what it is to feel at times as if continual pjenitence 
 were a superfluous mortification, an unreal and weari- 
 some self-humiliation ? Are we not tempted to feel at 
 
THE HOLY SPIRIT'S SEAIIXG. 
 
 157 
 
 times as if wo lui^lit cast off tliis load, and rojoieo in 
 wluit wo may ducni to bo a liiglior do^n-oe of Onistian 
 liberty ? Thoso woi<ls, " Ciriovo not the Holy Spirit of 
 God," may teach us another h'sson. Say that wo have 
 ceased to grievo Him l)y Avilfid sin, that wo have made 
 an effort to become " imitators of (J<jd as children 
 beloved ; " allow all this — and it is vev]j inuch to allow 
 — yet, in proportion as we obey the Comforter, in ])ro- 
 portion as we listen to His pure and holy sugg(3stions, 
 is there not I'oom for a new and more tender m'ief 
 on His j)art, as Ho looks u})on " our ne^^ligences and 
 ignorances," on those foil)los which disquiet om* peace, 
 blight many of the fi'uits of our labours, and obscure 
 the glory which should redound to Him from habitual 
 (christian conduct. Let this, then, be the touch- 
 stone whereby to try our imaginations, our desires, 
 our i)urposcs, om* ordinary speech, our daily conver- 
 sation in the world — " Grieve not the Holy Spirit 
 of God." 
 
 Whenever this solemn word of counsel and of caution 
 is presented to our mind, we must surely apprehend 
 our deep need of the prayer which the Church has 
 commended to us : " God the Holy Ghost, })roceeding 
 from the Father and the Son, have mercy upon us, 
 miserable sinners ; " " O God, make clean my heart 
 within me, and take not Thy Holy S|)irit from me." 
 We must surely feel that, so long as we are in this life, 
 
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 77/£ //OLV Sr/A'/T'S SEALING. 
 
 we shall ever have occasion to offer, Avith profouml 
 humility and with heartfelt earnestness, the suj)plica- 
 tion of the Psalmist, " Let tlie words of my mouth, and 
 the meditation of my heart, be always acceptable in 
 Thy sight, Lord, my Strength and my Redeemer." 
 
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SERMON XIII. 
 
 Preached in Trinity College Chapel. 
 
 For the Fifteenth Sunday after Trinity. 
 
 Galatians vi. 14.— "But God forbid tlioti slioiild glory, save in 
 the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, bv whom the world is 
 cruciticd unto me, and I unto the world." 
 
 The apostle has been speaking, in terms of strong 
 condemnation, of certain persons wlio urged on the 
 Gentile Christians of Galatia the necessity of receiving 
 the rite of circumcision, their motive Ijeing, as the 
 apostle expresses it, '' that they may glory in your 
 flesh," that is, "that they may pride themselves in 
 having induced you to receive an outward rite hy 
 which they themselves are distinguished ;" and. liaviiig 
 thus spoken of a false and vain ground lor gloiy, the 
 apostle takes occasion to declare in solemn terms, in 
 the words of the text, what is the only true ground 
 for glory. The apostle here states tlie ()l)jeet of his 
 <,dorvin<:r or boast, and then the reason of his i-bu-yim'' 
 in this. He gloried in the cross of Christ — that is, in 
 the death of Christ on the cross, in the sacrifice of the 
 
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 77/^ rOWER OF THE CROSS. 
 
 death of Clirisfc. lie Avas himself, like those Avhom he 
 censures, a Jew by birth ; but in this he gloried n<;t. 
 As he says elsewhere, " If any other man thinketh 
 tliat he hath whereof ho mio-ht trust in the fit-Hh, 
 I more : circumcised the eio'hth day, of the stock of 
 Israel, of the trilje of Benjamin, an Hebrew of the 
 Hebrews ; as touching the law, a Pharisee ; concerning 
 zeal, persecuting the Church ; touching the righteous- 
 ness which is in the law, blameless. But what things 
 were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ " 
 (Pliil. lii. 4-7) : that is, '"'those distinctions of race and 
 I'eligious privilege wliich I before accounted to be of 
 high value, I now esteem to be but things to be cast 
 away as worthless, for the sake of Christ and His 
 inestimable benefits." " In Christ Jesus," says he here, 
 ''neither circumcision availeth anything nor uncir- 
 cumcision" — herein lies no longer even the external 
 distinction between those who are God's and those 
 who are not; the only thing which is of avail is "a 
 new creature," or ratlier " a new creation," of which 
 men are constituted and continued j)ortions, by virtue 
 of the sacrifice of Christ, and by means of the sacra- 
 ments (if the new covenant, altogether iri-esp .. ively 
 of I Ik; ancient rites of Judaism. The apostle, there- 
 fbrc, gloried in nothing save the cn^ss of Christ, as 
 being the sole hope of salvation to man, the only 
 ♦ means of acceptable a])]H'oach to God. 
 
 But, again, why tlid the apostle glory in the cross ? 
 
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 crucified unto me, and 1 unto tne wor 
 wdiom," by Christ; it' "by vvhicli," ])y Christ's cross: 
 with no real difference of meaning, since by Clnist we 
 understand Christ crucified, and by His cross, the 
 crucifixion of Christ. Sucli was the result of Christ's 
 sacrifice in the apostle's case, and therefore he gloried 
 in Christ's cross. 
 
 Our Blessed Lord and Master wrought /or us, that 
 He might woik m us ; He bore the cross for us, that 
 He might ap})ly its virtue to us ; and this great trutli 
 is set before us in a \i}vy impressive manner in the 
 words, "by whom the worM is crucified unto me, and 
 I unto the world." Let us carefully observe who are 
 spoken of here as being crucified. Not our Lord 
 Himself expressly — that is understood ; His cross is 
 mentioned, and thus His cnicifixion is implied. But 
 there are other crucifixions spoken of, as being 
 wroui'fit bv that wondrous cross — two other cruci- 
 fixions; that of the world, and that of the apostle, 
 as a follower of Christ. 
 
 " By whom," says the apostle, " I am crucified to 
 the world." Christ suffered for us, that we might be 
 saved by becoming, after our measure, })ai"takers of 
 His sufferings. There was an awful death incurred 
 by every man, a death la sin, from which Christ came 
 to deliver us ; and, that we might escape it, He pur- 
 chased for us the power of dying with Ilim io sin. 
 
 M 
 
' 1 1 
 
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 K 
 
 162 
 
 J'/fE rOWER OF T/fE CROSS. 
 
 There is an evil nature vvhicli must die out of us, 
 whicli must be crucided on tlie cross of Clirist, must 
 be mortified, in the power of tliat Spirit which His 
 cross purchased for man — mortified, by virtue of that 
 faith and love and penitence wliich our crucitied 
 Redeemer is exalted to bestow, and which may justly 
 be regarded as gifts of precious virtue, streaming fortli 
 from His wounded body as it hung upon the tree. 
 To this death with Chiist repeated reference is madti 
 in the Epistles of S. Paul, who speaks again an<l 
 again of dying with Christ, or of being crucified with 
 Him, as the great benefit which is to follow to Chris- 
 tians from His death. 
 
 And what can such language imply, except that 
 the effect of the death of Christ, wlien a})plied to a 
 Christian man, is <> kill within him the love of evil — 
 to destroy that e il self which he was by nature, 
 causing him henceforth to live by a new life derived 
 from (Jhrist ? 
 
 And, that we may understand this the better, 
 S. Paul says in the text, " I am crucitied to the 
 world ; " that is, " to worldliiiess — to the pride, Mie gain, 
 the pleasures of the world. I am dead in respect of 
 these things, not living for them, not lusting after 
 them, not caring for them, not pursuing them. The 
 power of Ch'ist's cross has smitten this evil life, 
 mortified these desires, our, an unfi to these cares, 
 called me off from this pursuit " 
 
THE POWER OF THE CROSS. 
 
 163 
 
 ;t of 
 
 I after 
 
 The 
 
 life, 
 
 tares, 
 
 But, again, the apostle speaks of another cruci- 
 fixion. "Tlio world," says lui, "is crucitied to me." 
 The power of tlie world, or worhlliness, as our spiritual 
 enemy, is broken; the deceits of the AV(n-ld, the flesh, 
 and the devil are de])rived of their danirerous inlluence 
 on the soul. It may l)e thoui-'ht that this crucifixion 
 of the world to the Christian follows from his cruci- 
 fixion to the world ; that, as his love of evil dies, so 
 dies also the power of evil over him. And this, no 
 doubt, is true : yet we may well suppose that there 
 is a twofold benefit effected in this regard by the 
 cross of CliT'ist ; that the })ower of evil tVom without 
 is enfeebled, and that the tendency to evil from within 
 is greatly diminished, by virtue of the cross of Christ, 
 by virtue of tlie redeeming efhcacy of His death. 
 
 And here, perhaps, a question may present its(df 
 respecting the strong terms in which the apostle 
 speaks of th(! i-esult of the deatli of our Lord, when 
 he says tliat thereby "the world is crucified unto 
 him, and he unto the world," or when he says, " I am 
 crucified with Christ," and, again, when he says, " Ye 
 are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in (Jod." 
 These strong ex[)ressions do, however, but agree with 
 the general language of Holy Scri{)tui-e, in speaking 
 of divine i;ifts Ijestowed on mai . For theso gifts are 
 perfect on (Jod's side, though imperfect and inconijtlrto 
 in man's ajtpropriation (»f them ; wholly given, though 
 but partialiv; it Uiay be in no wise, received. In 
 
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 in- 
 
 164 
 
 T//E rOWER OF THE CROSS. 
 
 Ood's purpose, by the act of His grace, the world may 
 be crucified to us and we unto tlie world, and yet, 
 through our sloth and inditi'erence, the benefit may 
 have been in no degree realized ; the world, the flesh, 
 and the devil may have as great a power over us as 
 ever, and we may have as eager a desire as ever to 
 yield to their seductions. If we compare together the 
 doctrine taught, and the precepts given, in any one 
 of the Apostolical Epistles, we cannot fail to observe 
 this distinction between God's working and man's, 
 between God's gracious purpose and man's realization 
 and appro})ri ation of that purpose. Thus to the 
 Komans S. Paul says (vi. ()), " Our old man is crucified 
 with Christ," yet he presently afterwards adds [v. 12), 
 " Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body." 
 And to the Colossians he says (iii. 3), " Ye are dead, 
 and your life is hid with Christ in God," yet he 
 shortly after adds {v. 5), " Mortify therefore your 
 members which are u})on the earth." 
 
 AVe conclude, therefore, that the crucifying of the 
 world unto us, and of ourselves to the world, is a 
 benefit which God bestows upon us as Christians by 
 virtue of the sacrifice of Christ, and that it is a 
 benefit which it should be our great aim and etlbrt, 
 duiiug our probation in this life, to make increasingly 
 and assuredly our own. 
 
 What lesson, brethren, do tlie words of the apostle 
 address to us ? He says, " God forbid that I should 
 
HIE rOlVER OF THE CROSS. 
 
 I6s' 
 
 glory, save in the croas of our Lord Jesus Clirist." In 
 what, then, are we glorying ? Are we of the same 
 mind w4th the a})ostle :' There are other things, very 
 different from tlic cross of Christ, in which men glory. 
 The apostle tells us of some " whose glory is in their 
 shame" (Phil. iii. 19), and that because "their god is 
 their belly," or "appetite," and because "they mind 
 earthly things." These are they who follow pleasure, 
 who glory in nothing more than in self-indulgence, 
 who have no higlier satisftiction than in gratifying 
 their bodily desires and tastes. Are there not many 
 such, devoted to gaiety, to frivolity, to light and 
 thoughtless amusement, perhaps to vicious indulgence ? 
 And these, so far from glorying in the cross of Christ, 
 are enemies of that cross. The cross is their enemy, 
 too ; they look on it, not with love, but with dread ; 
 they regaid it, not as that which saves them, but as 
 that which rebukes and condemns them ; the^' lo(jk on 
 it, even now, with something of the same aversion and 
 terror with which the impenitent must behold it at 
 the last day, when it shall be revealed in heaven as 
 "the sign of the Son of man." The glorying in plea- 
 sure is a short-li\('<l glorying; it cannot outlast this 
 life; it lives not even until old age; it often vanislies 
 ere youth be past. Pleasure s cup has a honied brim, 
 hut its dregs are bitter. Let us not consent, then, to 
 glory in a tiling so transient, so vain, so disappointing, 
 (lodfoi'bid that we should gloty in it. (Jod foil>id that 
 
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 1 66 
 
 THE POWER OF THE CROSS. 
 
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 we sliould not glory in that ci'oss, whieli would crucify 
 us to all vain and sinful pleasures, in oi'der that we 
 may live for ever in the presence of God, wliere " there 
 is fulness of joy," and at His right hand, where '* there 
 are i)leasures for evermore." 
 
 l>ut, again, there are men who despise j^leasure, 
 and yet glory in something scarcely less vain ; men 
 who glory i wealth, in success, in power, in making 
 tlieir way in the world, in attaining some earthly end, 
 which tliey liave set before them as the crown of their 
 hopes, the reward of their toils. Keen-siglited men, 
 yet not far-sighted ; for, would they but lift up their 
 eyes, they could not fail to discern that humbling 
 truth of which S. James speaks, "The sun is no sooner 
 risen with a burning heat, l)ut it withereth the grass, 
 and the flower thereof fnlletli, and tlie grace of the 
 fashion of it perishcth : so also shall the rich man fade 
 away in his ways" (i. 11). God forl)id that we should 
 glory in anything so ])erishable as this, that we should 
 lay uj) all our ti'inisure in a fiail dwelling Ijuilt upon 
 the sand, a dwi-llinLC which the advancinu^ tide of time 
 must shortly overwhelm. JIow miserable, to liave 
 made that all our salvation and all our desire, which 
 shall soon liave vanished like a (beam when one 
 awakcth ! ib)w misei'able, that a being made for 
 (eternity should glory in that wliicli^time must destroy ! 
 'Let not the wise man gl"ry in liis wisdom, neithei' 
 let the miL-hty man olorv in his m't-ht, let not the rich 
 
THE POWER OF THE CROSS, 
 
 167 
 
 tliei- 
 lic'li 
 
 Tiian glory in his riches:" for wisdom and miglit and 
 riclies are of earth ; they cannot aV)ide witli ns for 
 ever, neither can they " profit in tlie day of wrath," or 
 commend us to the favour of Ciud. 
 
 But, again, perliaps a man may say, " I gh)ry not 
 in pleasure, nor in riches, nor in success; life is to me 
 no time of enjoyment, no scene of prosperity ; I glory 
 in nothinuf, nor can I see that I have cause to i^loiv. " 
 The apostle who said, " (Jod forl)id that T should glory, 
 save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Chiist," would 
 surely have said, " God forbid that I should not glory 
 in His cross." Yet let us remember that he himself 
 has said elsewhere, " If in this life only we have hope 
 in Christ, we are of all men most misei'al)le." " J <lie 
 daily," said he. His was a life of privation, of toil, of 
 danij'er, of suffer in o* in body and in mind, and all this 
 he cheerfully underwent, glorying in the cross of 
 Christ. 
 
 The doctrine of the cross comes to the weary, disap- 
 pointed, dejected soul, and bids it rejoice, bids it glory, 
 in the lovin^'kindness of God in Christ. It tells 
 jt'very man th.at (Jhrist died for him — died, that the 
 U'oj'ld might be crucified to }ii)n and he unto the 
 \sorld — and bids him see, in all the sort'ows and trials 
 of life, the discljtiii)'' of a merciful Fathci-, who would 
 by tlicHO \i[i\y Uii'fiU^ connnend to him the priceless 
 benefits purchased by his Redeemer's suffejing, wean 
 him fiom iUi> luvt' uf evil, and invite him to seek 
 
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 TITE rOWEi: OF THE CROSS. 
 
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 in luicaven "a bt.'tter <aii<l an eiidiiiing sulxstancc" 
 Christian, liowevor obscure? and dustituto may he 
 tliy lot, howcvci' wearied thou niayest be with tin- 
 toils of life, liowever burdened with its cares and 
 sorrows, God furbid that thou slioul(hjst not learn to 
 j^dory in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ. (Jod 
 forbid that thou shouldest not learn to thank Him for 
 having saved thee from being beguiled by the pride 
 of earthly ])rosi)erity, or the false glare of worldly 
 pleasure. Well for thee that thou ad weary and 
 lieavy laden, if thou shalt thus be led to listen to that 
 gracious voice which says, " Come unto Me, all ye 
 that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give yuu 
 rest." Forget not, then, Christian, that to this thou 
 art called— to glory, to j,lory for ever, in the cross of 
 Christ. 
 
 But, again, perhaps a man may say, *' I do glory 
 in the cross of Christ. I am heartily thankful that 
 Christ died for me. I trust in His righteousness, not 
 in my own. I hope that God will accept me for His 
 sake." A i»'ood confession so far as it o-oes. It seems 
 to correspond to a part of the apostle's declaration, 
 " God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of 
 our Lord Jesus (yhrist." But what of the words which 
 follow—" by whom the world is crucified to me, and i 
 unto the world " ? Ai'e there not some who would 
 fain leave these words out ? They can glory, as they 
 think, in a cross on which Christ died for their sins ; 
 
THE POWER OF 77 fE CROSS. 
 
 169 
 
 l)Ut thoy cannot glory in a cross by wliicli tli-' world 
 is crucified to them, tind tliey unto the world. They 
 can <,dory, as they think, in wliat ( 'lirist k\'u\ for them; 
 they cannot yl^ry in that a\ Inch Jle would do ni 
 them. Tlioy can <J!"h»ry, as they think, in the hlood 
 which "cieanscth It o\a all sin," but not in tlie "pui'_i,^ing 
 of their own consciences ' thereby, 'i'hey can rejoice, 
 as they imagine, in the gii't of justiMcation, but not 
 in the gift of sanctification. Tluiy hope to be saved 
 from wratli, l)ut they do not desire to be made holy. 
 They would fain reach heaven, but they are not \s illing 
 to be made nutit for it upon earth. Let us, then, 
 remember that man may never separate what God has 
 joined together, and that we are not of the apostle's 
 mind unless we can utter with him the whole text. 
 If our tongue falters in the latter part, we may profess 
 the former loudly, but we cannot profess it sincerely. 
 Vox no man can rightly ghny in the cross of our Lord 
 .Jesus CJhrist, except he heartily desires to be thereby 
 crucified to the world, and to hiive the world crucified 
 to him. If a bare assent to the truth that (,1nist died 
 for us constituted a claim to eternal life, eternal life 
 would indeed be easily attained ; could we be saved 
 through a faith wdiich does not work by love, the 
 narrow way would be broad indeed, and the strait 
 gate wide. Holy Scriptures leaves no excuse foi" this 
 vain and presumptuous oi)inion ; it tells us plainly of 
 •' holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord ; " 
 
 
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 THE POWER OF THE CROSS. 
 
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 it bids us be " holy in all manner of conversation," and 
 " prss the time of our sojourning here in fear." And 
 is not this obligation brought home to us most closely 
 by the language of the text ? 
 
 The great work of Christ, performed, in His own 
 person, on our behalf, is there brought into the most 
 intimate connection with the work which, by His 
 Spirit, He effects on our own souls. His cross is 
 spoken of as our cross. As He died for us, so are we 
 to die with Him ; as He died for our sins, so are we 
 to die from our own. It is only as we do this that 
 we suffer the benefits of the death of Christ to be 
 apj)lied to ourselves. He is, it is true, "the propitia- 
 tion for the sins of the whole world," yet the sins of 
 the whole world are not actually taken away ; He 
 died for all, yet all live not by His death. So long as 
 we stand aloof, and are not made conformable to that 
 death, we have no part in Christ's salvation. " N(^t 
 every one that saith unto Mo, Lord, Lord, shall enter 
 into the kingdom of heaven." It is, in truth, a mockery 
 of our Blessed Lord to afi'ect to be trusting to His 
 sacrifice for salvation, while we neglect the work ot 
 faith, the labour of love, and make no effort to " live 
 the life which we now live in the flesh by the faith 
 of the Son of God, who loved us, and gave Himself 
 for us." " lie died for all," ^ays the apostle, " that 
 they which live should not henceforth live unto them- 
 selves, but unto Him;" and if we would live unto 
 
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 THE POWER OF THE CROSS. 
 
 171 
 
 Christ, we must die to sin, we must be crucilied on 
 His cross unto the world. 
 
 Is it asked wliat these words mean in practice ? 
 Is it asked what is the world ? Anything which stands 
 between us and our duty to Cod ; anything wliich 
 allures us to evil, or restrains us from good. I^Ien's 
 worlds are very different. The god of this world has 
 diflerent deceits wherewith to beguile the minds of his 
 votaries. But let us know that whatever " sore lets 
 and hinders us in running the race that is set before 
 us," that is our world. Whatever it be that we love 
 more than God, that we desire more than His favour, 
 that we fear more than His displeasure, this is our 
 world. What is it that strives to stille tlu; voice of 
 conscience within us; what is it that indisposes us to 
 prayer, or to meditation on Cod's Woid ? This is our 
 Avorld. What is it which makes us so slow to recognize 
 Q^ V highest duty to God and »,u our.selves ? This is 
 our world. 
 
 To this evil world we have been crucified by the 
 death of Christ, so far as God's gracious jtui'pose is 
 concerned ; to this evil world we must beeome cru- 
 cified in very deed. We nnist "cruelly the old man, 
 and utterly abolish the whole l)ody of sin." Let us 
 hear the apostle : " If ye live aftei' the flesh, ye shall 
 die ; but if ye through the Spirit do mortify the 
 deeds of the body, yc shall live." 
 
 And does it seem to us a hard, an unwelcome 
 
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 T//E rOlVER OF THE CROSS. 
 
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 aj)pointment, tliat the redemption of Him who died for 
 our sins must he sought and aj)propriated hy our dying 
 from them ; that He who was crucified for us shouhl 
 require tliat we shoukl he crucified with Him ? Alas for 
 the blindness of man, which cannot discern his true 
 happiness, or the exceeding mercy of God his Saviour ! 
 To die from sin is our only salvation, to be crucified 
 with Christ is our only life. " O wretched man that 
 I am ! who shall deliver me from the body of this 
 death ? " says the natural man, awakening from his vain 
 dreams of happiness, oppressed by the sense of his 
 misery, and ignorant of a Saviour. That " body of 
 death" ourgra -ious Redeemer bids us nail to His cross, 
 and live a new and blessed life, derived from Him and 
 imparted to us by His Spirit. It is our death which is 
 to die ; our only true life is " hid with Christ in God." 
 To be crucified to the world, is to be regarded not onlv 
 as an act of duteous service which we are called upon 
 to render, but also as a priceless benefit which has been 
 purchased for us. To have sinful inclinations subdued 
 and evil habits extirpated is indeed a blessing, an 
 inestimable privilege. God requires of us nothin<^ 
 wliich involves not our truest interest, our purest 
 happiness. The old man indeed suffers when it is 
 crucified, the body of sin is })ained in being destroyed ; 
 and with its sufferings we sympathize, even as we 
 should in the severing of a diseased limb. There is a 
 present pain, but there is also an enduring secu! ity : 
 
rilE rOWER OF THE CROSS, 
 
 ^71 
 
 
 there is a brief self-denial, but there is an everlasting, 
 an infinite recompense. 
 
 And, again, can we doubt the exceeding love of 
 Him who died for us, of Him who for us "poured out 
 His soul unto death"? He, then. Himself has said, 
 "He that loveth his life shall lose it ; and he that hatetli 
 his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal. 
 If any man serve Me, let him fallow Me ; and where I 
 am, tliere shall also My servant be." 
 
 Let us beware of loving that life which Christ 
 bids us hate, of sparing that life which Christ bids us 
 crucify; that evil life of unbelief, of self-indulgence, 
 of self-will ; that sordid, worldly, carnal life, which is 
 not subject to the law of God, but is engrossed by 
 the things of earth. This is no true life, but death ; 
 and, in loving it and saving it, we shall lose our true 
 life : whereas, if we will faithfully and lovingly obey 
 our Lord, and follow Him, Whom we profess to serve ; 
 and even as He laid down His precious life for us, so 
 hate and renounce, for His sake, that which men 
 falsely esteem to be their life in this W(jrld, then shall 
 we keep our true life unto life eternal ; and where 
 Christ is, there shall we also His servants be. 
 
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 SERMON XTV. 
 Preach p:d in Trinitv College Chapel. 
 
 For AU-Sahits' Day. 
 
 Hebrews xii. 1. — *' Wliorefore set'inj» we also are compassed 
 about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside 
 every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and 
 let us run witl patience the race that is set before us." 
 
 The festivals of the Chiiivli may, with only one or 
 two exceptions, be arranged under two classes ; the one 
 incliidinLT those on which we celebrate the works of 
 God in the econoniy of redein|)tion, tlie otlier those on 
 which the saints of God are i)ro})oscd for our imitation, 
 and commended to our human symj)athies. 
 
 Of this latter class tliere is, perhaps, none which is 
 so calculated to elevate the thoughts and to impress 
 the mind, as is tlie great festival of this day. On 
 other lioly days of the same character we are taught 
 to contemplate some distinguished but solitary ex- 
 ample of Christian excellence ; to-day we are invited 
 to direct our gaze to an innumerable company — "a 
 great multitude, which no man can number," the 
 
THE OXE CO M MUX 10 X AXD FELLOWSHIP. 175 
 
 the 
 
 wliole assembly of " the spirits of just men mailti 
 perfect." In the one instance our eyes are ttxed on 
 some " bri^dit particular star," set by God's wondrous 
 power and grace in the firmament of His spiritual 
 heaven; in the other our glance sweeps the whole of its 
 vast horizon, not resting exclusively on those greater 
 lights which differ from the rest in their excelling 
 glory, but passing on to the multitudes which yhine 
 only less brightly than they, and to the dim clusters 
 ol stars, which remind us anew, by their very indis- 
 tinctness, how immense is the field of our vision, how 
 wide the limits of that celestial kingdom, the i^lories 
 of which we vainly endeavour to apprehend. 
 
 Our thoughts are to-day of God's elect in all ages 
 and in all climes — of that countless host wliich, since 
 the world began, has been evermore traversing the 
 narrow stage of this little earth of ours, on its way to 
 the great world to come. Our thoughts are of the 
 children of God, who walked with Him before the 
 flood ; of the holy patriarchs, who dwelt in tents as 
 heirs of His promise ; of the true Israelites under the 
 law ; and of Abraham's spiritual seed, which has been 
 gathered fiom all lands since the fulness of the Gentiles 
 has been coming in. 
 
 These are the " elect " whom God " has knit together 
 in one communion and fellowship," represented upon 
 earth, at any given time, ])y the body which we 
 designate the militant Church ; yet only so represented 
 
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176 'J HE ONE COMMUNION AND FELLOWSHIP. 
 
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 thereby, [is a mighty river may be said to be repre- 
 sented to a spectator by the waters which pour, at any 
 given moment, t!i rough some brief portion of its course 
 to which his view is restricted. 
 
 Nor Joes this festival present to the mind only vast 
 and distant objects of contem[)hition ; i t also appeals 
 most powerfully to our human symf)athics. We might 
 justly regard the angelic host, the festival of which 
 was not long since celebrated, as a spectacle not less 
 august than that which is presented by the congrega- 
 tion of the redeemed; we may well believe that no 
 created beings are a loftier object of contemplation 
 than the " angels, who excel in strength," " the minis- 
 ters " of God, " who do His pleasure ; " nor need we 
 wonder that the latest thoughts of a great writer of 
 our Church should hj ve been directed, as we read that 
 they were, " to the number and the order of the angels." 
 But while we look with admiration and grateful love 
 to these exalted servants of the Most High, who are 
 sent forth by Him to minister for man, still our nearer 
 affections, our human sympathies, must be with those 
 who have been partakers of our flesh and blood, who 
 have inherited w^ith us the same infirmities, have 
 passed through the same conflicts, and have known 
 the same fears and hopes which are ever influencing 
 our own minds. 
 
 And, again, the Festival of All Saints, while it is 
 general, is also particular ; while it embraces all, it 
 
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 THE OXE COMMUNION AND FELLOWSHIP. 1 77 
 
 includes individucals in whom wc severally have a very 
 near concern ; and thus, while it bids the whole Church 
 on earth remeniber the whole Church in Paradise, it 
 enables the several members of the Church militant to 
 blend, with tlie general commemoration of the Church 
 expectant, some loving, longing thought of those who 
 have walked beside them here, and with whom thev 
 trust to walk yet again in the streets of the city of 
 God. 
 
 When we celebrate the memorial of an apostle or 
 evangelist or martyr, W(i should, indeed, cherish the 
 thought that in Christ we are one with him ; we should 
 bless God for the service which we have been permitted 
 to derive from his teaching or from his example ; we 
 should gratefully recognize the wondrous bond which 
 subsists, in the mystical body of our Lord, between 
 ourselves and one who has for ages been gathered to 
 his rest. But still this general and widely extended 
 communion of the saints was never designed to sup- 
 plant the closer ties, wdiich, as they were ordained by 
 the God of providence, are hallowed by the God of 
 grace. "Of Him every family in heaven and earth is 
 named ; " and the bond which unites us all in Christ 
 was, we may be assured, never designed to relax, but 
 rather to strengthen and perj)etuate every natural and 
 domestic tie. 
 
 And thus, on a day like this, while our charities 
 should indeed be permitted and stimulated to range 
 
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 178 7///i av/i' coMMUxroy and FELLowsirip. 
 
 tlirou«,'li tlio wliolo compass of tlio " oik; communion 
 and i'ullowsliip," and wliilu wo may rightly and wisely 
 exult to know tluit, in the Head of our re(hM'mod and 
 ren<nve(l liumanity, we are indeed oik; witli patiiarchs, 
 |>ro|)liets, and ap<istles; yet tlie selfsame (.^hristian 
 love, wliich hids our symj)athies extend throui;h tlie 
 wljole <^reat hody, will assurrly hririL^ them hack again, 
 to dwiill es})eeially upon those memlu'rs of the body 
 who have, under the providence (jf (Jod, ac(piire<l 
 stronger claims upon us individually, as heing better 
 known, more nearly related, nK)re intimately connected 
 with the story of our own lives, and bouiKl to us by a 
 thousand endearing associations. 
 
 So this day may be to eacli of us a day of soUnnn 
 gladness or of chastened sorrow, as we call to mind, 
 with more of Christian hope or of human tenderness, 
 some nu.Mp.ber of that vast company which we are 
 invited to commemorate collectively. Each will have 
 some memory of his own suggested by the day, some 
 recollection of a friend or relative who was not loui? 
 since with us upon earth, amris now here no more. 
 
 It is well that we should gratefully and reverently 
 acknowledge how the great truths of the Christian 
 revelation alone give to the dark mystery of death an 
 interpretation which satisfies the demands alike of our 
 understandings and of our affections, both vintlicating 
 the ways of God and asserting the true diL,niity of man. 
 This day alone, by the truths to which it bears witness, 
 
 ■ M 
 
nunion 
 wisely 
 c(l and 
 riarehs, 
 Inistian 
 \if\\ the 
 k a<;ain, 
 le body 
 LC(iuire(l 
 f better 
 nnected 
 us by a 
 
 ' solemn 
 () mind, 
 lerness, 
 we are 
 11 have 
 ly, some 
 lot long 
 nore. 
 verently 
 liristiau 
 eath an 
 e of our 
 li eating 
 of man. 
 witness, 
 
 T//E OXK COMMUNION AXD FELLOU'Sirir. 1 79 
 
 teaches us liow to tliink aright even of an infant's 
 
 deatli — shutting out those cold, dark, guilty thoughts 
 
 wliieh, apart from the hope of the gospel, may, by the 
 
 death of an infant, be too readily suggested: That 
 
 brief life, it tells us, was not impart<Ml in vain ; the 
 
 infant did not live to die. God thinks not of such 
 
 deaths as men too rc^adily ccmsent to think of them. 
 
 His feeblest, lowliest crecatures are not so vile in Mis 
 
 sight as man's hardmss of heart and unbelief would 
 
 sometimes assume them to be. There is a ))rofound 
 
 truth involved in the words of our (christian poet — 
 
 " Tlio All-l)<)iintouns hath not given to take away, 
 The AU-wisu hatli not created to destroy " — 
 
 (though the words may be wrested, as he represents 
 them to have been, so as to convey a most err(meous 
 meaning) ; and, if we knew death in no other form 
 than that which it present's when it closes a lif»; of a 
 few hours or davs, we miufht still well be thankful that 
 we had not been left to read this mystery by the light 
 of nature, but had been taught by revelation to regard 
 this life as the portal of the next, and in this assuiance 
 to trust implicitly to the wisdom and to the goodness 
 of the Almighty, in assigning to each of ] lis creatures 
 the term, however brief or prolonged, of their con- 
 tinuance on tlie present scene. 
 
 But there are other forms in which death is known 
 to us. The orief may be, not that life has been cut ott' 
 in its very beginning, but that it has been continued 
 
 ,, ■< 
 
^ ■ 
 
 
 '!! 
 
 !!i 
 
 iii!(t 
 
 H i \'t 
 
 1 80 77/Js: Oyi: COMMUXION AND FELLOWSHIP. 
 
 in pain and woarincHs; that youth has hoon ro>)])0(l of 
 all its f'lvsliMCHH and IjoiK-fulness; that tin; si^ason wliich 
 is generally tlio joyoiiH springtime of life, has known 
 no earthly joy. And how very bitter would he th<; 
 recollection of such tedious disease, of early deatl), 
 wliicli seeiniMl still to come too late — pnMiiatin'e indeed, 
 and yet too long deferred — how desolate would such 
 remeud)rance he, apart from the hopes associated witli 
 another life, and with the relation in which this life 
 stands to it as the time of our probation ! 
 
 Looking to these hopes, we may trust that it was no 
 arbitrary appointment which chained the sufferer to 
 the bed of sickness, which forced him to feel, from the 
 very beginning, that all which earth could give was 
 vanity; we have rcom to trust that the grievous visi- 
 tation was a wise and merciful discipline, that those 
 dull, joyless years were indeed the precious seed-time 
 of an eternal harvest. 
 
 Nor is there any other form in which death pre- 
 sents itself to our view, inider which we can dare to 
 contem])late it apart from the hopes of the future. Let 
 it be the end of a long, a happy, a successful course, 
 yet it is, without the hope which Christ has ])urcliased 
 for us, nothing else than the blank and dismal end of 
 that course — a terror which we may be sure that the 
 Author of our being never meant us to confront, in 
 our naked human Aveakness, un])rotected by the helmet 
 of salvation and the shield of faith. 
 
T. 
 
 [)1)C(1 of 
 
 1 which 
 
 known 
 
 he the 
 
 (lefitl), 
 
 indeed, 
 
 1(1 such 
 
 ,ed with 
 
 bhis life 
 
 t was no 
 Herer t<J 
 from the 
 rive was 
 Ills visi- 
 it those 
 ed-time 
 
 ith pre- 
 
 dare to 
 
 Bre. Let 
 
 course, 
 
 chased 
 
 end of 
 
 hat the 
 
 Tont, in 
 
 », helmet 
 
 ir 
 
 7 HE OXE COMMUNION A\D FELLOWSIIIP. iSl 
 
 Let us rememher, too, that, as years advance, we 
 need more and more the ])rot('ction and the comfort 
 which a helief in Christian truth alone can ^nve us ; 
 and that, if we neglect to arm ourselves in this celestial 
 jjanoply, then we can have no other safejjfuard aLjainst 
 inevitable sorrow, than the miserahle insensibility 
 and hardness of heart, by which men sometimes con- 
 sent to purchase relief from anguish, at the cost of the 
 finest feelings and the noblest instincts of our human 
 nature. 
 
 While we are still young, earth seems to be our 
 secure home, and this life our abiding resting-place. 
 The other life is, in our esteem, a land whicli is very 
 far otf. Our fiiends are here, and we look to have 
 them long with us. VVY' may have lost aged relatives, 
 but they were probably little known to us, or, if they 
 were familiarly known, we have comforted ourselves, 
 as childhood can so rea<lily do, by dwelling on the 
 thought of their advanced age, and of the long, long 
 years which must pass away ere other cherished friends 
 could reach it. But years steal on, and the father now 
 stands Avhere the grandsire once stood, and we are 
 made at length to feel that the spell which seemed to 
 guard our loved circle is broken, that death has, 
 indeed, entered it ; and then we are soon taught other 
 and sterner lessons, by the death of e(pials or of those 
 who have numbered fewer years than our own ; until 
 at length, if we have ears to hear, we cannot but have 
 
mm 
 
 m 
 
 ml ■Mjl 
 
 •r t.i> 
 
 ■I!. 
 
 If, 
 
 mm 
 
 "llilill! 
 
 i-J 
 
 liU 
 
 t 
 
 
 I ::'.:-ii 
 
 U-: 
 
 :■:(!' i 
 
 182 T//JS ONE COMMUNION AND FELLOWSHIP. 
 
 heard, again and again, a voice which tells us that this 
 is not our rest, that it is on another shore than this 
 that we must look for unchanging relations, for stable 
 and imperishable joys. 
 
 It is well, then, that we should take this lesson home 
 on a day like this. It can scarcely ever return to us 
 without suggesting some new lesson of the vanity of 
 life ; without whispering to us some new name, which 
 must be remembered now, not as heretofore, as the 
 name of one who stood beside us in the contiict, but 
 as the name of one who has entered, as we trust, into 
 his rest. 
 
 Those who have been thus removed from us, are 
 spoken of by the sacred writer in the text as " a great 
 cloud of witnesses." We will not pause to inquire 
 whether, in employing this expression, his purpose is 
 to instruct us that the depai i^ud are ' uimediately cog- 
 nizant of what is now passing upon earth ; at all 
 events, he represents them to us as combatants whose 
 conflicts are over, whose race is run, who have attained 
 a })lace of honourable repose, and by whose example 
 and sympathy we should be animated in our own 
 endeavours to secure the prize. 
 
 And surely one amongst the many and powerful 
 inducements which arc presented to us to " run with 
 patience the race which is set before us," may be found 
 in the lemembrance of dei)arted friends, and in tlie 
 contemplation Oi' the thoughts which must fill their 
 
 \m 
 
IP. 
 
 liat this 
 an this 
 r stable 
 
 )n home 
 n to us 
 mity of 
 J, which 
 as the 
 lict, but 
 ist, into 
 
 us, are 
 
 a great 
 inquire 
 pose is 
 ly cog- 
 at all 
 s whose 
 ittained 
 xaniple 
 lir own 
 
 owerful 
 in with 
 e found 
 in the 
 11 their 
 
 THE ONE COMMUNION AND FELLOWSHIP. 1 8 
 
 minds in their place of rest, when their regards are 
 turned to earth, and to us with whom they liave been 
 conversant below. True it is that the Word of God is 
 our supreme guide, that the will of (Jod is our highest 
 law, that we should be possessed evermore by the 
 remembiance of our Father in heaven, of our Inter- 
 cessor on liigh, of our Divine Sanctitier and Comforter. 
 Yet, in subordination to these grand motives to godly 
 living; other motives may find their due place ; and, 
 as God si)eaks to us on earth by human voices, so also 
 may He speak effectually to our hearts by the remem- 
 brance of departed friends, and by our conviction of 
 their hopes and longings on our behalf May we not 
 think, when the choice between well-doing and evil- 
 doing is presented to us, how a departe<l parent would 
 regard us could he stand befo)-e us ? JVIay we not 
 imatjine how the affectionate counsel or warnin<^ which 
 he would have offered in the flesh would now derive 
 a far deeper solenniity, a far more cogent urgency, 
 from his assured knowledge of many of the great 
 secrets of the invisible winid ? May we not undoubt- 
 ingly pronounce what the yearnings of his heart must 
 be for us as he remembers our conditio!i and character 
 as they were known to him on earth, and forecasts, 
 with a spiritual disceinment pro})ortioned tohishighej- 
 sphere of existence, the peculiar temptations of our 
 future course, our easily besetting sins '{ 
 
 ]S'or will it le unprofitable to muse on those who 
 
 i 
 
 
 \ 1 
 
 ■i 
 
 \ '. 
 
 i 
 ■ 1 
 
1 84 THE ONE COMMUNION AND FELLOWSHIP. 
 
 M! 
 
 liave been taken from us at an earlier age, and to reflect 
 how they are now ^)repared, in other tones than those 
 of youth, to bear witness to the great truths of God, 
 and to rebuke and exhort with an authority with 
 which they could not have spoken upon earth. 
 
 So, again, may we think of those who were, in 
 intellectual power and in attainment, our inferiors, 
 whom v/e should have taught on earth, but who would 
 be our teachers now, eclipsing all our boasted know- 
 ledge, by their profound and simple intuition of the 
 great truths which it behoves us to know and believe 
 for our souls' health. 
 
 Furthermore, the thought of this future woild 
 should assuredly guide us in our conduct towards 
 those with whom we are now associated on earth. We 
 shall be divided from them too hereafter. We may 
 precede them or they may precede us into the world 
 of spirits. In either case, let us be assured, we shall 
 feel that it was a thing of no light moment how we 
 here conversed with them. Have we ever lost a young 
 friend, a familiar companion, a partner of our studies 
 and our amusements, a close and intimate associate, 
 one whom we loved and cherished ? How do our 
 thoughts travel back through the days and years of 
 that intimacy ! With what deep shame, with what 
 [)oignant regret, do they rest on any unworthy record 
 of the past ! How thankfully do they revert to any 
 pure or holy converse, to any mutual encouragement 
 
THE OXE COMMUNION AND FELLOWSHIP. 1 85 
 
 to good, to any combined resistance to evil ! We feel 
 that we had to do with an immortal soul, with a 
 member of Christ, with a child of God, with an inheritor 
 of the kingdom of heaven. And death teaches us most 
 impressively that, while we walked, perchance, so 
 heedlessly together with him, his great probation was, 
 indeed, progressing, and we were active agents in it ; 
 that God had conmiissioned us to help him forward in 
 the right way that leadeth to everlasting life, while 
 our best hope must too often be that we did not 
 seriously imperil the salvation of one wliom we yet 
 called our friend. 
 
 Nor let us suffer ourselves to imaifine that the 
 attempt to discharge our duty in this high regard 
 must needs be a wearisome, if not an impracticable, 
 task. 
 
 Let us not doubt, but earnestly believe, that the 
 (Jod who made us and redeemed us, while He bids us 
 remember Him, calls upon us to forget an<l renounce 
 nothing which is really good ; that, while He bids us 
 expect and prepare for the life to come, He does not 
 require us to abandon the purest and truest enjoyments 
 of this life. We may walk together as pilgrims and 
 strangers, and yet be happy here ; we may be wise for 
 eternity, and yet not without enjoyment in time. 
 
 There are innocent joys, there is Christian mirth. 
 The overjflowing gladness of the youthful heart, God's 
 own creation, God's own gift, will be but the richer 
 
 ij 
 
 i 
 
 1 1 
 
 * 
 
iifili 
 
 m ■ ■ 
 
 
 1 86 T//£ ONE COMMUNION AND FELLOWSHIP. 
 
 and the brighter, if we have respect to His laws and 
 walk in the way of His commandments. We may pray 
 earnestly every day, and strive earnestly every day to 
 be kept without sin, and for that very reason pass the 
 day in a cheerfulness and serenity unknown to him 
 who has forgotten his duty to God. Let us never dare 
 to say in our hearts that obedience to the gospel of 
 Christ, God's great cure for all sorrows, is of all sorrows 
 the worst ; His healing of our wounds, the worst wound 
 of all. We may cast away His love and fear far from 
 us ; but can we, by so doing, rid ourselves of disap- 
 pointment, of misfortune, of sickness, of grievous suffer- 
 ing, of the fear of death, of death itself ? We may, 
 indeed, for a little moment hide the apprehension of 
 these evils from our minds, but this is all that we 
 can do. 
 
 Rather let us reasonably and courageously recog- 
 nize their existence, and lay hold on the divine con- 
 solation and deliverance. Let us embrace the blessed 
 belief of " the one communion and fellowship of God's 
 elect ; " let us cling to our faith in Him, in whose 
 mystical body they have been " knit together ; " let us 
 walk Avith each other here worthily of our prayer that 
 God would " grant us grace to follow His blessed saints 
 in all virtuous and godly living ; " so shall we come 
 at length " to those unspeakable joys which He has 
 prepared for them that unfeignedly love Him ; " and 
 
THE ONE COMMUNION AND FELLOWSHIP, 1 8; 
 
 assured, as we then shall be, that godliness " has the 
 promise of the life which is to come," we shall also 
 gratefully confess, as we look back upon our earthly 
 pilgrimage, that it indeed had also " the promise of the 
 life that now is." 
 
 ■ 
 
'.'''.'> 
 
 h ' 
 
 ! . |- 
 
 jvr 
 
 1. 
 
 SERMON XV. 
 Preached in Trinity College Chapel. 
 
 S. Matthew xviii. 20. — " Where two or three are gathered 
 together in My name, there am I in the midst of them." 
 
 It is not my object on tlie present occasion to show 
 tliat these words, addressed originally to the apostles, 
 were addressed in them to the Christian Church at 
 large, or to determine — though it is a very important 
 inquiry — what is signified by " being gathered together 
 in the name of Christ." I will assume that the promise 
 of the text belongs, as it has generally been understood 
 to belong, to every lawful assembly of the one Catholic 
 and Apostolic Church, and, consequently, to the ordinary 
 assemblages of Christians in the house of God for the 
 purpose of divine worship. The application of the 
 j^romise of our Lord to such assemblies appears to be 
 recognized in the closing prayer of our morning and 
 evening services — the prayer of S. Chrysostom.in which 
 we are instructed to plead with God His gracious assur- 
 ance, that " where two or three are gathered together 
 in His name, He will grant their requests ; " and it will 
 

 CHRIST IN OUR MIDST. 
 
 1 80 
 
 consequently be no strange thought to us, that in the 
 house of God, and at the hour of divine service, we are 
 approaching, in a peculiar sense, into the presence of 
 Him who filleth heaven and earth. For He wh(j tilleth 
 heaven and earth deigns to be specially present at 
 certain times and in certain places, and most ungrateful 
 do we show ourselves for His exceeding condescension, 
 most insensible of our own need of that condescension, 
 if we attempt to merge, in the general truth of God's 
 Omnipresence, the more solemn and moving conviction, 
 that He is for ua especially present at times and in 
 places which He has hallowed alike for His service 
 and for our profit. Holy Scripture often speaks to us 
 of places possessing a peculiar sanctity. The ground 
 whereon Moses stood when he gazed on the burning 
 bush was holy ground, because God there especially 
 revealed Himself. The most holy place in the taber- 
 nacle and in the temple was most holy, because God 
 there gave visible tokens of His presence. Nor is this 
 relative sanctity of places confined to the times of the 
 old covenant. S. Matthew more than once speaks of 
 Jerusalem as the holy city — holy, as being the peculiar 
 dwelling of the Most High ; and 8. Peter calls the 
 Mount of the Transfiguration "the holy mount," be- 
 cause the sacred form of his Divine Mastei-, though it 
 had in some sort sanctified by its presence the length 
 and breadth of the land of Israel, had on that chosen 
 spot been clothed in unearthly glory, revealed to the 
 
 '!i 
 
MMat^ariiH 
 
 \U 
 
 U' 
 
 '>iR^ 
 
 lint 
 
 j' r: 1 
 
 llLi 
 
 I 
 
 190 
 
 CHRIST LV OUR MIDST. 
 
 1 ' 
 
 eyes of His disciples in a majesty belonging to the 
 world to come. Holy places, then, there are ; and holy 
 are those i)laces of which Christ says, " There am I." 
 
 And now, brethren, I would invite your attention to 
 this great truth, that in our public worship we draw 
 near, in a peculiar manner, into the presence of God ; 
 for I am deeply persuaded that, in proportion as wo 
 realize this truth, in that proportion will our church 
 be to us the house of God, the gate of heaven. 
 
 A venerated divine and poet of our Church has 
 well said — 
 
 " When once thy foot enters the church, be bare. 
 God is more there than thou : for thou art there 
 Only by His permission. Then beware : 
 And make thyself all reverence and fear." 
 
 " God is more there than thou." Let us write, or 
 rather pray God to write, this thought on our hearts. 
 " We walk by faith, not by sight," or " appearance," 
 says S. Paul ; and even so must Christians learn to 
 walk in every act of their lives, and more especially 
 in those acts which pertain very nearly to their 
 highest duty to God. If we would use the church 
 rightly, we must learn to use it " as seeing Him who 
 is invisible." How widely different is this persuasion, 
 " I am in the presence of God," from any lower 
 apprehension which we may entertain of the nature 
 of Christian worship ! There may be a decency, a 
 sobriety, even a solemnity, in the demeanour of one 
 
■ • 1 
 
 CHRIST IX OUR MIDST. 
 
 191 
 
 ,0 the 
 I holy 
 I." 
 
 ion to 
 
 draw 
 
 God; 
 
 as we 
 
 jhurch 
 
 jh has 
 
 rite, or 
 hearts, 
 "ance," 
 arn to 
 ecially 
 their 
 church 
 who 
 lasion, 
 lower 
 nature 
 ncy, a 
 of one 
 
 n 
 
 who walks l)y sight — or appearance — in the house of 
 God ; who sees there nothing more than th«' eye sees 
 — an assembly of men gathered for a serious and j)ious 
 object: but how far short must not tins fall of the 
 devotion and reverence of one who '' walks by fEiith " 
 in God's house, and sees God Himself present there ! 
 
 In order that we may the better understand this, 
 let us follow the order of our service, and observe the 
 several acts which it involves. We need scarcely 
 remark on the profound m*^aning which is given to 
 the opening words of confession and supplication by 
 the conviction that God is with us of a truth — that 
 He is there to receive our sorrowful acknowledgment 
 of sin, there to hear our cry for pardon and restora- 
 tion. And when His answer comes to our cry — His 
 gracious message of absolution to the penitent — will 
 not both the purport and the power of this announce- 
 ment be very differently apprehended — according as 
 we believe ourselves to be worshipping a God near at 
 hand, or a God afar off? If we believe that Christ 
 is in the midst of us, shall we not be assured that the 
 declaration of pardon is indeed made by Him who 
 has power on earth to forgive sins ; that Christ's 
 minister is indeed His minister, His servant, speaking 
 his Lord's words, not only in His nann;, but in His 
 very presence — discharging the commission, wherewith 
 he has been entrusted, even in the very audience of 
 the Great King ? And when we rise to praise God, 
 
aaam 
 
 192 
 
 CHRIST IN OUR MIDST. 
 
 iri 
 
 what a vivid sense is imparted to every word wliich 
 sets forth His glory, by the ap])rehension of His 
 presence ! How cold comparatively must our hymns 
 of thanksgiving be, while we seem only to be making 
 confession to each other concerning the majesty of 
 God — to be speaking of Him rather than to ll'nn : but 
 how fervid, how sublime do they become, when we 
 once apprehend that we are speaking to God Himself; 
 that to Him, the King Eternal, present by the Spirit 
 of His Son, we lift alike our hearts and our voices, 
 saying, " We praise Thee, O God ; we acknov/ledge 
 Thee to be the Lord ! " 
 
 Our service of praise will discover to us, perhaps, 
 more strikingly than any other part of our worship, 
 the necessity of recognizing God's presence ; for, being 
 as it is the highest degree of Christian worship, it 
 suffers a loss, proportionately great, from th absence 
 of a true spirit of devotion — of that spirit which alone 
 can rightly interpret and justify the language of praise. 
 
 There would seem, indeed, to be no other safeguard 
 against irreverence in the use of this language, sa^•e 
 the abiding conviction that we are addressing a 
 present God — a God who graciously permits to us, in 
 His house, an access into His immediate presence, and 
 who must, therefore, surely require of us the meek 
 reverence of those exalted beings, who, serving Him 
 in heaven, veil their faces, when they cry one to 
 another, in praise of His thrice Holy Name. 
 
CHRIST ix OUR ^r/Dsr. 
 
 19. 
 
 ;vluch 
 
 • His 
 lymns 
 akinj,' 
 ity of 
 I : but 
 en we 
 Linself ; 
 Spirit 
 voices, 
 v/ledge 
 
 )erhaps, 
 
 worship, 
 , being 
 
 iship, it 
 bsenee 
 
 th alone 
 praise. 
 
 Ifeguard 
 re, save 
 ssing a 
 [o us, in 
 ice, and 
 meek 
 \(r Him 
 one to 
 
 Again, ^vllon wo ivlioarsc our rreed, what tliouglit 
 so fitted to elevate and soleiiuiizo our minds as the 
 tliouglit of the presence of (.'hrist — a glorious Presence, 
 which seems to grow clear and distinct before us, as 
 we trace His wondrous steps from the manger to the 
 cross, from the cross to the right hand of CJod ? My 
 meaning may, perhajjs, be better understood, if w«' 
 reflect how very diflerent is the effect of these self- 
 same words of the Creed, when they are re])eated in 
 catechizini::, or when thev are addressed, in the form 
 of an interrogatory, in Holy Baptism, from their eflect 
 when they are intelligently and (levoutl}' uttered by 
 the Church as a portion of her solemn worship. And 
 what occasions this difference, save that, in the former 
 cases, the confession of our faith is 'not presented 
 before God, while in the latter case it is ? The 
 soldiers of Christ then avow allegiance to their Great 
 King in His very presence, and it is the apprehension 
 of His presence which gives to this avowal its deep 
 significance and interest. Nor should we fail to note 
 tlie place which the Creed occupies in our Order for 
 Morning and Evening Prayer ; it closes, and most 
 appropriately, the service of praise, and is accordingly 
 appointed to be " sung or said," as forming a })ortion of 
 that service. 
 
 Again, in respect of our ])raycrs, must we not 
 deeply feel the necessity of believing that Christ is 
 in our midst, in order that we may rightly offer them ? 
 
 u 
 
194 
 
 CHRIST y;V OUR MIDST. 
 
 • ;!■ 
 
 i .if 
 
 il- (, 
 
 
 
 ".( ■, 1 
 
 ;i-,. 
 
 We .arc tauf^lit to pray, in our ])ublic ■Nvorsliip, not for 
 ourst'lves exclusively, but for otliers also; every word 
 which \w() utter is uttered on Ix'half of others; and it 
 is to be feared that our charity oftf.'n faints and is 
 weary before it has acconij>lisiied half its task; il 
 is to be feare<l tliat we regard many of the supj)li- 
 cations which the Church instructs us to otier, a.5 
 matters in which we have little or no concern. What, 
 then, is more calciUated to quicken and enlarge our 
 Christian charity, than a conviction of the presence 
 of Ilim who loved the Church and gave Himself for 
 it ? What more fit to remind us that wo are all 
 members of Christ, than a faithful recognition of the 
 ])resence of our Head ? In Him we feel ourselves to 
 be knit together, and are enabled earnestly to believe 
 that the highest of our fellow-Christians needs oui* 
 prayers, that to the lowliest they are due ; that the 
 good of the whole body is mysteriously made to 
 depend on the service and on the sympathy of every 
 individual member. 
 
 It is in the assembly, in the midst of which Christ 
 is, that Christians are taught truly to love one another. 
 We must gather ourselves around the very feet of our 
 common Lord, in order that the precious ointment oi 
 divine love, poured without measure on the Head 
 of Him, our Great High Priest, and coming down tn 
 the skirts of His clothing, may reach even unto us. 
 
 But, once more, even those parts of our servicf. 
 
CHRIST L\ OUR M/DSi: 
 
 195 
 
 lot for 
 
 word 
 and it 
 and is 
 ,slv; it 
 siip\>li- 
 tlor, as 
 
 What, 
 v(fc oiir 
 )rescncc 
 \solf ior 
 
 are all 
 II of the 
 selves to 
 
 "believe 
 ^L'ds our 
 
 that the 
 
 aade to 
 
 of every 
 
 3h Christ 
 another, 
 let of our 
 itnient ol 
 ne Hea^l 
 down to 
 ito us. 
 ir service 
 
 which pertain less directly to the? woi-slilp of God 
 cannot he perfornie(l ari^lit, if wo fail to recognize tlui 
 presence of Christ in His Church. To the readin_j 
 of Gods Holy Word an especial solemnity attaclus, 
 when it is n.'ad in His house ; it should there he read 
 and heard with peculiar reverence, for it is the law 
 of the Great Kin^,', recited in Mis own audience — tlu' 
 Word which is to .jud;,^e us, pronounced in the pre- 
 sence of Him who shall come to be our Jud«'e. 
 
 So, too, should the preaching of (Jod's Word, and 
 the manner in which that [)reaching is heard and 
 received, Ije ever controlled by a sense of God's 
 presence. He who s})eaks should ever bear in mind 
 that he is teaching and exhorting in the presence ol' 
 Almighty God, while they who hear should be careful 
 to remember that it is in the presence of God that 
 they are receiving warning and instruction. 
 
 Thus have I attempted to trace, very briefly and 
 imperfectly, the mighty influence which will be exerted 
 on the conduct of the .several parts of divine servict* 
 by the recognition of the great truth that Chii: ^ is, 
 according to His promise, here in the midst of us. 
 
 This gracious promise of our Lord, if it be stead- 
 fastly believed, will give a s])iritual life, a solenni 
 reality to our a})pointed forms of worshi}), which tiny 
 cannot otherwise possess; it will intorjjret to us the 
 language of devotion which the Church has prescribe* 1 ; 
 it will make holy and awful words, which were other- 
 
1^ - '•MT ilM 
 
 l««i 
 
 F S 
 
 f '< 
 
 lit:'- 
 
 \m 
 
 196 
 
 CHRIST IN OUR MIDST. 
 
 wise of necessity only a danger and a snare, a mii^lity 
 lu'lp, a sure guide to us in the great duty of calling 
 upon God. 
 
 A sense of the presence of our Lord will, moreover, 
 enable us to correct tlie false estimate which we often 
 tbi'ni respecting the relative importance of the different 
 ))arts of divine service. 
 
 We not unfre(piently assign the first place to that 
 which is lowest, to that whicli the remembrance that 
 ( 'lirist is in the midst of us will make us feel to be the 
 lowest. If He be there, so near us, what must be our 
 great business with Him, the chief occasion of His 
 gracious presence ? Surely that we should confess 
 our sins Ix'fore Him, and receive His merciful declara- 
 tion of forgiveness ; that we should set forth the praise 
 of the Father, to whom we come through Him; that 
 we should jirefer to God those re(piests whicli can be 
 ortered only in His name. These are our pressing 
 (hities as sinners and suppliants, who are graciously 
 encouraged to add, to lowly confession and to earnest 
 player, tlie voice of ?)raise and thanksgiving; and, 
 these duties discliarged, we may )>e thankful to be also 
 iu'^tructed and comforted by the reading of God's Holy 
 Word, to be taught and admonished by the voice of 
 Mis appointed minister. The writer whom T have 
 before ipioted says — 
 
 *' Resort to sermons ; but to prayers most : 
 Praying's the end of preaching." 
 
 m 
 
CHRIST IX OUR MIDST. 
 
 U 
 
 V 
 
 cf 
 
 ■htv 
 
 lling 
 
 iovcr, 
 often 
 :crent 
 
 tliat 
 c that 
 be the 
 be our 
 of His 
 confess 
 leclara- 
 praise 
 \ ; that 
 can be 
 ressing 
 ciously 
 earnest 
 ; and, 
 be also 
 's Holy 
 oice of 
 I have 
 
 "Praying's the end of ])reaching." Would that avc 
 could all receive tliis saying! Then preaching avou Id 
 convey to us far more substantial benefit than it often 
 does, and we shoidd learn far more truly and wisely 
 to honour it as an ordinance of Chi-ist. 
 
 They who are appointed to minister in Christ's 
 name, if they conceive rightly of their ofHce, and of 
 the i)romise of their Lord's presence with their minis- 
 trations, will find a peculiar satisfaction in those 
 parts of their service which are most purely ministerial, 
 in which they have but to do Christ's plain bidding, 
 to be the organs by which His words are spoken, His 
 acts performed. For here they feel that they are 
 most surely channels of His grace to hearts pre[)ared 
 to receive it; here the heavenly treasure, though it he 
 in earthen vessels, suffers least alloy ; man's frailty 
 and eiTor have least occasion given them to mar the 
 work of God. So are those parts of a minister's work, 
 which human reason might account to be the lowest, 
 indeed the highest; here, as elsewhere, has Coil given 
 more abundant honour to that part which lacked ; 
 those duties of our ofHce which least re(iuire nati'ral 
 ability, intellectual gifts, are those which, rightly 
 understood, n)Ost cleai-ly testify that CJod "has eni- 
 })Owered us to 1)0 ministers of the new covenant." 
 The administration of the sacraments of Christ, the 
 office of declaring and ])ronouncing, in His name, to 
 the penitent, the absolution and remission of their 
 

 mtimiM 
 
 ss 
 
 
 
 
 
 f 
 
 
 
 ^''!' ■ 
 
 
 fiij 
 
 
 
 
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 jjit ■■ 
 
 
 m 
 
 ! ■ . 
 
 
 I 
 
 !« 
 
 ;.i| 
 
 19S 
 
 CHRIST IX OUR MIDST. 
 
 ili : 
 
 sins, the ofierin^; of api)ointcd prayers, the uttering of 
 a|)p()nite(l l)ene(licti()ns — these duties afford a peculiar 
 satisfaction to tlie Chi'istian minister, inasmuch as 
 tliey are simple acts, pei'formed in no wise of liis own 
 mind, and for that cause to be more distinctly recoj,^- 
 nized as the work of Christ done by his hands, as the 
 word of Christ spoken ])y his mouth. 
 
 On the other hand, while he accounts himself, in 
 preaching' and teaching, to be still the minister of 
 Christ, to be speaking in God's behalf, he will here 
 fin<l far more reason to confess his sins, his negligences 
 and icfnorances, far more reascm to fear lest error of 
 judgment, or prejudice, or want of purity of intention, 
 may have hindered his working his Lord's Avill, and 
 impaired the blessing which his ministration was de- 
 sio'ned to convey. 
 
 We may all be assured, both ministers and people, 
 that Ave shall serve God by iireaching, and be built up 
 by preaching in our most holy faith, in proportion 
 as we learn to honour and value arii^dit the several 
 portions of the worship of Almighty God; and, again, 
 that these are to be honoured and valued aright, only 
 by referi'ing them to the promised presence of our 
 Lord. The recognition of that sacred presence will 
 shed a hallowinii' liiiht upon all the services of the 
 house of God ; they will all be accounted precious and 
 holy as being means of fellowship with Christ, and 
 that will be esteemed most precious, most holy, in 
 
CHRIST LV OUR MIDST. 
 
 199 
 
 ngof 
 :uUar 
 :h as 
 i own 
 •ecog- 
 is tlie 
 
 ;elf, in 
 
 ter of 
 
 I here 
 
 o-ences 
 
 rror of 
 
 ention, 
 
 11, and 
 
 k-as de- 
 people, 
 
 )uilt up 
 
 portion 
 several 
 , again, 
 t, only 
 of our 
 
 Ice will 
 
 of the 
 
 ous and 
 
 ist, and 
 
 lioly, in 
 
 which He vouchsafes us the nearest access to Him- 
 self. 
 
 Our own experience can scarcely have failed to 
 teach us how lamentably easy it is to form, and to rest 
 in, a most unworthy estimate of the privileges which 
 we enjoy as members of the Christian Church, and, in 
 our own mistaken apprehension, to relieve ourselves of 
 the burden of responsibility, by disowning the great 
 things wdiich God from day to day is doing for us. 
 We are but too willing by any means to escape from 
 the consciousness of inconsistency. Comparing our 
 habitual conduct with an elevated conception of our 
 advantages and of our duties, as God's servants and as 
 worshippers in His house, and seeing too plainly the 
 startling discrepancy between the one and the other, 
 we are tempted, if it may be, to debase the heavenly 
 things to our earthly level, rather than encounter 
 the arduous and humiliatino- task of abandonincf our 
 earthborn habits and affection;; for others which are 
 more in accordance with our Christian profession and 
 with the exalted langiiage of our services. 
 
 Yet how very pitiable nuist be the condition of 
 any man, who possesses externally the privileges of 
 the Christian Church, while he remains unconscious 
 of their priceless value; how wretched to awaken 
 hereafter to the consciousness that we bad long been 
 ignorantly walking, blinded by the deceits of Satan 
 and of the world, in the midst of Christian light ; 
 
.LJJiX...JU^J ' !lJa.JMl i< i 
 
 iiiU 
 
 1 ^^'^■ 
 
 fl: 
 
 0: 
 
 'A'-\''i 
 
 ''k ^ 
 
 1 , 
 ; 1 1 
 
 :j i 
 
 200 
 
 CHRIST IN OUR MIDST. 
 
 X \\ 
 
 enrolled by God's grace among the members of His 
 household, yet careless of appropriating its blessings — 
 aliens in heart and life, and so destined to be aliens 
 for ever. 
 
 * Strive we, then, to apprehend the realit}" of the 
 language of Holy Writ concerning the kingdom of 
 Christ, the reality of the language which the Church 
 commends to our use in the public service of God. In 
 spite of every hindrance, let us earnestly endeavour 
 more fully to recognize the sacred character of that 
 access to the Father which our Lord has purchased 
 for us, the solemnity of that intercourse with Heaven 
 which is designed to elevate and purify our daily 
 intercourse with our fellow-men ; and to receive, in all 
 its simplicity, in all its fulness, the declaration of the 
 text, that " where two or three are feathered toixether 
 in the name of Christ, there is He in the midst of 
 them." 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 I't ' ' I 
 
ui 
 
 SERMON XVI. 
 
 Preached in Trinity College Chapel on June 
 20, 1cS.j8, being the Last Sunday in the 
 Academical Year. 
 
 For the Fifth Sunday after Triuifij. 
 
 1 Samuel xv. 23. — " Because tliuu liust rejected the word of 
 the Lord, He hath also rejected thee from being king." 
 
 Among the many mournful histories which. Holy 
 Scripture presents to our notice, the liistory of Saul 
 is one of the most mournful. Possessed of many 
 admirable endowments, both of body and of mind, 
 he claims at first our warm esteem and love ; and, as 
 his day becomes overcast with the clou<ls of guilt and 
 of misfortune, we can by no means divest ourselves 
 of the interest which w^as awakened by tlie gladsome 
 promise of its morning. For, in the midst of erroT- 
 and of consequent misery, he still gives tokens, ever 
 and anon, of the virtue of past days. To ad(jpt the 
 language of our great poet respecting the fallen 
 
 archangel — 
 
 " His form has not yet lost 
 All her o: iginal brightness." 
 
 'I ! 
 
^l0^im^ttt0'mmA 
 
 1 
 
 1' * 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 
 ■p! ' j't{ ■ 
 
 Ml ': 
 
 
 202 
 
 ^■iV 
 
 im 
 
 , ;! i 
 
 77/Zi REJECTION OE SAUL. 
 
 We cannot listen witliout emotion to the remorseful 
 confession wrung from him by tlie generous for- 
 ])earancf' of the o])ject of his hitter persecution : " I 
 have sinned : return, my son David : for I will no 
 more do thee hc^-rm, because my soul was precious in 
 thine eyes this day : behold, I liave played the fool, 
 and erred exceedingly." And, even at the very close 
 of his career, his pathetic complaint to Samuel argues 
 a heart in no sense " past feeling," still deeply con- 
 scious of the hap}»iness which he might have enjoyed, 
 of the misery which he had brought upon himself: 
 " I am sore distressed ; for the Philistines make war 
 against me, and God is departed from me, and 
 answereth me no more, neither by prophets, nor by 
 dreams." 
 
 If it be asked what occasioned the wreck of a 
 character so noble, we may perhaps arrive at a solu- 
 tion 01 this question most safely and readily, by 
 contrastiniv the conduct of Saul with that of him 
 whom Girod chose on his rejection. On the occasion 
 of Saul's first transgression, Samuel said to him, " The 
 Lord hath sought Him a man after His own heart ; " 
 and when he again oflended more grievously the 
 second time, the pro])het said, " The Lord hath rent 
 the kingdom of Israel from thee this day, and hath 
 ijiven it unto a neiixhbour of thine, that is better than 
 thou." We readily conclude from these utterances of 
 the pro2)het that, in respect of Saul's great failing, 
 
THE REJECTIOy OF SAUL. 
 
 20.^ 
 
 )rscful 
 ^ for- 
 n: "I 
 ill no 
 oiis in 
 c fool, 
 ^ close 
 argues 
 y con- 
 ijoyed, 
 imself : 
 ke war 
 le, and 
 nor by 
 
 V of a 
 a solii- 
 
 of him 
 ccasion 
 " The 
 leart ; 
 dy the 
 bh rent 
 id hath 
 er than 
 mces of 
 failing, 
 
 David did stand, and would prove himself to stand, in 
 marked contrast with his predecessor. The history 
 of h(jth will, as I tliink, enable us to arrive at the 
 conclusion that Saul's great error was a proud indis- 
 position to recognize and appreciate his relati(m to 
 God, while David's p culiar excellence v.'as a faithful 
 and lovinijf readiness to do so. The virtues of Saul 
 seem to have been the results of an ingenuous natural 
 disposition, rather than the fruits of a .superinduced 
 religious })rincii»le ; their aim appears to have been 
 earthward ratlier than heavenward ; thev seem to 
 have respected man rather than God. These natural 
 graces of character might, indeed, have been elevated 
 into somethinij* tar hiifher and nobler; God's choice of 
 Saul miijht have led Saul to choose the Loixl fjr his 
 God — might have sublimed his dittidence into reverent 
 humility, his generosity into beneficence and long- 
 sufiering, his courage into zeal. And no doubt herein 
 his trial consisted. God proved him by his grace — 
 chose him to be king, that he might thereby become, 
 in a higher and holier sense, the chosen of the Lord. 
 Yet such was not the result. Saul did not loyally 
 recoo-nize his relation to the Great Kincr of Israel, 
 plainly as that relatitm had been stated by the 
 ]n^ophet botli to the people and to himself; he would 
 not be God's vicegerent ; he must be king in his 
 own right. At one moment human fear, at another 
 human pride, makes him feel God's service to be a 
 
204 
 
 THE jREyECTIOy OF SAUL. 
 
 I ' 
 
 m I 
 
 '1; 
 
 burdensonio rustraint, or rather, i)orbaps, to (loiil)t 
 whetlior he will not be servinu: God and Israel Lest, 
 by following" the devices of his own heart and l)y 
 obevinj^ his own inn)ulses. 
 
 How widely different was the conduct of David, 
 even from his earliest days ! Throughout tlie whole 
 course of Ids changeful life, we find him ever keerdy 
 sensible of his I'elation to God; ever referrini' to Him 
 his thoughts, his words, his actions ; ever conscious 
 of the divine presence ; ever persuaded of the claims 
 of the Almighty to his service, both as a man and as 
 a prince. 
 
 So, in the wilderness with his father's sheep, he 
 feels and confesses that it is the Lord who " has 
 delivered him out of the paw of the lion, and out of 
 the paw of the bear ; " and when he goes up to the 
 army to his brethren, he sees in the gigantic and 
 boastful champion of the enemy only " this uncir- 
 cumcised Philistine," recognizing him by no tokens 
 save those which declared liim to be an alien from the 
 covenant, while the dismayed and humbled ranks of 
 his own countrymen are still, in his faithful eyes, 
 " the armies of the living God." So, too, in advancing 
 to the unequal conflict, he needed not, on his behalf, 
 an entreaty like that of the prophet for his servant, 
 " Lord, I pray Thee, open his eyes that he may see ; " 
 iov he too was, like Balaam, though in a better sense, 
 "the man whose eyes were open;" and sword and 
 
(loiil)t 
 l4 best, 
 
 David, 
 ; -svliole 
 
 keenly 
 to Him 
 niscious 
 ! claims 
 
 and as 
 
 ■i I 
 
 lecp 
 
 lias 
 
 lO 
 
 d out of 
 to the 
 ;ic and 
 uneir- 
 tokens 
 om the 
 anks of 
 il eyes, 
 vaneing 
 behalf, 
 servant, 
 y see ; " 
 r sense, 
 rd and 
 
 77//r /^£y£CT/oy of saul. 
 
 20 = 
 
 shield and spear, in the hands of Goliath, were as 
 nothing before the might by which he felt himself to 
 be encompassed — " the name of the Lord of Hosts, the 
 God of the armies of Israel." Again, under widely 
 differing circumstances, his relentless persecutor was, 
 both in the cave and sleeping within the trench, in 
 his faithful regard, "the anointed of the Lord;" and, 
 when Shimei curses him, in the hour of his distress, he 
 confesses that it is done at God's bidding. 
 
 Herein, then, would seem to lie the broad line of 
 distinction between the character of Saul and that 
 of David, that the latter^ had ever a vivid conscious- 
 ness of thin^js unseen — of his relation to God — while 
 in the former this was wanting. And this grievous 
 •lefect led Saul to reject the word of the Lord on two 
 several occasions and in two distinct modes. 
 
 First, in the matter of the burnt offering, Saul 
 rejected God's written Word, the recognized law of 
 the Most High. The pressure of a supposed necessity 
 induced him to trespass on an office which pertained 
 to the priests alone, to be guilty of an offence akin to 
 that for which Korah perished ; and, again, in s|)ite 
 of the grave warning Avhich had f(jllowed upon this 
 offence, Saul rejected God's word addressed to him by 
 Samuel, with regard to the Anialekites. He |)ut his 
 own interpretation upon that word, and would pro- 
 bably have remained wholly unconscious of disobe- 
 dience; had it not been for the expostulation of the 
 
Hi 
 
 If 
 
 i 
 
 ii- 
 
 V I 
 
 m 
 
 }) > 
 
 206 
 
 7V/E REJECTION OF SAl'L. 
 
 pro[)lH't, whicli expostulation itself he at first repellcl 
 as groundless. And it is \vell that we should observe 
 this, for we probahly fail to derive from the narratives 
 of Holy Scripture the instruction which they shoulil 
 convey, in conse(iuence of our not forming a correct 
 judgment of the circumstances of the pi'incii)al actors 
 in those narratives. The position of men living under 
 the Jewish dispensation was, indeed, not precisely 
 similar to ours, in respect of their means of appre- 
 liending their relation to God and their conse([uent 
 duty, yet was it not so wholly uidike ours as we 
 may be apt to think it to have been. Saul, we might 
 be disposed to say, openly set at nought the command- 
 ment of God in a way in which we cannot do so ; 
 he knew that God had spoken to him through the 
 prophet, and he refused to comply with the instruction 
 thus given. Would it not, however, seem far more 
 probable that Saul was wanting in faith, than that 
 he was guilty of this open and presumptuous dis- 
 obedience \ — that he trifled with God's command as 
 he did, because he regarded it as being in reality the 
 command of Samuel ; and that nothing w^as further 
 from his thought than that the prophet, amid the 
 general excitement and enthusiasm consequent upon 
 a signal victory, w^ould ever raise a question as to his 
 literal compliance with instructions, which, so far as 
 their general scope was concerned, had been executed 
 with so brilliant a success ? He had not probably 
 
vpelle'l 
 jbservc 
 ■rativt's 
 should 
 correct 
 I actors 
 <X under 
 recisoly 
 appro - 
 iso(piont 
 ^ as we 
 luiglit 
 lumand- 
 : do so ; 
 rh the 
 
 '> f 
 
 11 
 
 o 
 
 ruction 
 ar more 
 lan that 
 ous dis- 
 nand as 
 
 ity the 
 
 further 
 mid the 
 nt upon 
 as to his 
 far as 
 }xecuted 
 
 robahly 
 
 T//E REyECTIOy OF SAUL. 
 
 207 
 
 apprehended, witli any clearness, the nature of his com- 
 mission, or tlie import of tlie words, afterwards used 
 by Samuel, " Tlie Ijord sent thee on a journey;" he 
 ha<l, as he deemed, gone on an cx])edition, at the 
 sugy'estion and with the approval of his chief coun- 
 sellor. He had not heard the voice from heaven, " Go, 
 and utterly destroy the sinners the Amalekites;" he 
 had heard only its earthhorn echo, "Go, and utterly 
 luunhle the hereditary enemies of Israel. " The theo- 
 cracy was, in Saul's apprehension, a name rather than 
 a reality, and he interpreted the solemn terms in 
 which Samuel recof^iized the divine jioverinnent of 
 Israel, and his own consequent obligations, as lightly 
 as we too often interpret the sacred words which 
 declare to us our privileges and duties under the new 
 covenant — the import of our "high calling of God in 
 Christ Jesus." So it was, as he regarded it, not 
 God's quarrel, but Israel's and his own, that he was 
 avenging ; well content, indeed, that valour shouhl 
 be imputed to him as piety, that patriotism should be 
 honoured as religion, but little dis}>osed to remend)er 
 that he Avas waging, like Joshua, "the wars of the 
 Lord " against persons and things accursed, and that 
 that which God had appointed to utter destruction 
 might be spared neither to grace his own triumph nor 
 to enrich his soldiery. 
 
 Holy Scripture so completely strips men's conduct 
 of all specious disguises, tells us the truth concerning 
 
il I 
 
 ...... 
 
 1 
 
 i p.' '. 
 
 1 
 
 M ' 
 
 i 
 
 1 :: 
 
 ■. , 
 
 pi! i; 
 
 ' 'i 
 
 HI • 
 
 :if| 
 
 
 If 
 
 208 
 
 T///-: REJECTIO^r OF SAUL. 
 
 thorn so barely, tliat wo may hastily infer tliat their 
 errors were not eloaki'(l in any decree eitlier from 
 otliers or from tliemselvcs, tliat conscious and overt 
 rebellion aijfainst God l)roniL;ht on them a i,niilt with 
 which but lew in our own days seem to bo char^^eable. 
 We may, liowever, for more reasonably believe that 
 men like Saul sinned as men ordinai'ily sin now, by 
 choosing not to know the truth, not to ascertain tlieir 
 duty, not to realize their relation to God and their 
 conse(|uent obligations, "not regarding," as the prophet 
 says, "the work of the Lord, nor considering the 
 operation of His hands." 
 
 Thus regarded, the sin and punishment of Saul 
 cannot fail to convey grave lessons to ourselves ; for, 
 if he sinned thus, we must surely acknowledge our 
 grievous liability to sin after the similitude of his 
 transgression. We may sin against tlie written law 
 of Christ as he sinned against the written law of 
 .Moses, not by o|)enly disallowing its authority, but by 
 doubting and practically denying its universal applica- 
 bility to our own conduct. We may also reject the 
 word of the Lord as he did in the case of Amalek — no 
 written word of general application, but a special word 
 addressed to ourselves, such as Saul heard from the 
 lips of Samuel. We have, indeed, no inspired prophet 
 to bear to us individually the messages of Heaven ; 
 and therefore the word of God cannot come to us in 
 so obvious, so palj^able a form as it did to Saul ; but 
 
THE REJECTIOX OE SAC/.. 
 
 200 
 
 their 
 from 
 
 ovi'rt 
 \s\i\\ 
 
 •cable. 
 
 that 
 ow, hy 
 n their 
 
 1 their 
 )Vophet 
 112 the 
 
 it may como to us no less sinvly. (Jod's provi(h'ii(M 
 may as <Ii.stinctly call us to the pcrforniauc'c of certain 
 special duties, as the voices of Samuel called Saul tn 
 smite the Amalekitos. We shouM also lie careful tn 
 
 ol 
 
 )Soi*ve 
 
 that, 
 
 in many instances, 
 
 \ II h 
 
 's supernatunil 
 
 connnunications did hut carry a little further, and 
 make more (h'iinite, the instruction uhich He evermoi>' 
 conveys in ordinary modes. So, when Sanuiel hade 
 Saul undertake this war, he was l»ut assurin^^ him of 
 a duty which the ])ast history of Ids ]»eople and their 
 present position mij^ht of themselves have indicated t<t 
 a faithful and thoughtful mind. "'I'lie Lord,"' as tin- 
 hooks of I\roses tauu'ht, "had sworn that He would 
 have war with Amalek from tjeneration to <a'neration : ' 
 and tliosc books also recorded a special char<.,'e which 
 had been given to Israel, that "when the Loi'd had 
 L,^iven them rest from all their enemies round about, 
 the}' should blot out the remembrance of Amalek from 
 under heaven." Sauls victories over the MoaVtite-;, 
 the children of Ammon, Edom, the Philistines, and 
 also over Amalek itself, had placed the people, for tin.' 
 tirst time since their entrance into Canaan, in a po>-i- 
 tion to fulfil this command. Thus both God's W(ii<! 
 and God's providence might have s|)oken to the heart 
 "f Saul the selfsame message which he heard from tlit 
 lips of Samuel, and Samuel's message might have be* n 
 doubly confirmed by a reference both to the written 
 law and to the existing circumstances of the time 
 
mmMmmsm 
 
 210 
 
 T//£ REJECTION OF SAUL. 
 
 ';-'.'., 
 
 
 I 
 
 ■-■■ \ 
 
 r 
 
 Let us, then, inquire what the word of God is to 
 
 us, as uttered by His providence, and more especially 
 
 to those amongst us who are passing through a course 
 
 of study here. The slighting of God's providential 
 
 voice is, as I believe, a serious error to which we are 
 
 very prone. We allow that the Bible is God's Word, 
 
 we admit certain propositions as necessary matters of 
 
 faith, we allow certain rules of conduct to be generally 
 
 binding on all men ; but wo are very apt to disregard 
 
 the manner in which the providence of Almight}'' God 
 
 interprets to each one among us his own special 
 
 duties, and brings the general precepts of the gospel 
 
 to bear on his own conduct as an individual. Are we 
 
 not, indeed, conscious of a strange kind of misbelief, 
 
 which teaches us to regard tlie power which prescribes 
 
 to us general rules of conduct, as a power distinct from 
 
 that which appoints the circumstances of our daily 
 
 life ? Do we not even vainly fancy that our external 
 
 condition is simjdy inimical to our spiritual well-being, 
 
 and that we would readily serve God did we but 
 
 breathe a purer atmosphere, were we but engaged in 
 
 pursuits more congenial to our better feelings ? So 
 
 men learn to postpone the purpose of godly living, 
 
 to excuse themselves in negligence and disobedience, 
 
 solely on the ground that they have been placed in an 
 
 unfavourable position, or that they are associated witli 
 
 ensnaring society. W^e may, indeed, j)?acc oar8elve>< 
 
 where we ought not to be, and mi^. ■'vith those whoin 
 
THE REJECTION- OF SAUL. 
 
 211 
 
 lis to 
 ecially 
 course 
 dential 
 we are 
 5 Word, 
 liters of 
 enerally 
 disregard 
 ;hty God 
 L special 
 le gospel 
 Are we 
 misbelief, 
 irescribea 
 
 inct from 
 our daily 
 jr external 
 ell-being, | 
 
 we but 
 tcrased in 
 lings % So 
 [Uy living, 
 ;obedience, 
 ^aced in an 
 dated witb 
 
 hose wlioiii 
 
 we ought to shun; but, in the main, our lot is not 
 ordered by ourselves, we find ourselves under a 
 guidance not our own, and it becomes us to ask 
 ourselves vjhose that guidance is, and to what end it 
 is vouchsafed. 
 
 So far as those whom I am addressing are con- 
 cerned, there can be no difficulty in referring their 
 present external circumstances to the good providence 
 of God. He, by the hand of parents or of friends, has 
 led them where they are ; and when we consider how 
 many independent agencies have combined to form for 
 them their present position and to establish them in 
 it, we cannot but feel that it becomes them to think 
 with all reverence of the advantages, the duties, the 
 engap^ements, connected with that position — yes, even 
 of its difficulties and dangers, as constituting a part of 
 the discipline to whi^h lie, " who ordereth all things 
 in heaven and earth," has seen good to subject them. 
 It is a thought which ought to impress us ^'■ery deeply, 
 that God surely meant every one of us to be doing 
 the dutie:s here prescribed for us, to be exercising our 
 understandings and disciplining our wills as we are 
 here required to do ; and that, in so far as sloth or 
 levity may induce us, on any one day, to omit the 
 day's tasks or to violate the rules prescribed for our 
 conduct, in that degree we are rej(.'cting the word of 
 the Lord, by which He speaks to us, in His providence, 
 as members of this society. Let us bear this in mind. 
 
i!!'' 
 
 i'l. 
 
 J"' : ■ 
 
 ?' f 
 
 1 
 
 -,■{■ ^ 
 
 •fri': 
 
 B 
 
 212 
 
 77/£ REJECTION OF SAUL. 
 
 I. ' 
 
 for we are far too prone to escape from tliis sense of 
 obligation to diseliarge si)ecial duties, and to slielter 
 ourselves under the pretext of respecting general rules. 
 A man may say, " I know that it is my duty to serve 
 (Jod," and yet may have no reasciKji'le, no honest 
 i-eply to give to the in(|uiry, "How au you to serve 
 Him to-day ? " 
 
 Indeed, some may fancy that they have not yet 
 arrived at the j>roper season for rendering this service ; 
 may persuade themselves that classical and mathe- 
 matical studies are but hindrances in the way of their 
 so doing ; or, again, that the preparatory study of 
 divinity is far less favourable to a religious life than 
 are the practical duties of a parish ])riest. And so, in 
 the far horizon, until they reach it, lies the happy spot, 
 where it is to be so very easy and so veiy delightful 
 to listen to the voice of (jrod. Until they reach it, I 
 say; fci the holiest life which man ever led on earth, 
 is ever beset with .;v iiinbrances and distractions no 
 less grievous than an} > i which they may now com- 
 plain. The service which, viewed as a whole, appeared 
 so inviting at a distance, will present, in its component 
 parts, on a nearer view, lauch which is very distasteful 
 and very wearisome, much which it will be diflicult 
 for a self-indulii'ent or faithless heart to recou^nize as 
 constituting any i)ortion of the duty which it owes to 
 Almighty God. 
 
 The day's work, then, which is enjoined on us or 
 
 lii 
 
TITK REJECTIOX OF SAl'T.. 
 
 -7 r ^ 
 
 nsc of 
 ihelter 
 \ rules. 
 ) serve 
 honest 
 () serve 
 
 not yet 
 
 service ; 
 luatlie- 
 01 their 
 
 stu«ly of 
 
 life than 
 
 nd so, in 
 »py spot, 
 (>lightful 
 
 bacli it, 1 
 »u earth, 
 ;tions no 
 iovv coni- 
 lappcared 
 pniponent 
 
 iistasteful 
 \ difficult 
 )(mi/e as 
 owes to 
 
 on us or 
 
 recommended to us, in our several stations, V)y lawful 
 authority, this it is which tlie word of God's provi- 
 dence is bidding us do ; and let us never forget in 
 wliat g(.'ntle, hopeful tones that word ordinarily speaks 
 to us in our early days. How lai'ge are its [)romises, 
 how encoura<dnix its sui^^^estions, how very lii'ht the 
 burden it im[)Oses ! 
 
 Tlie pleasurable exercise of our faculties, rewarded 
 In our own consciousness of good desert, l)y the appro- 
 bation of superiors, by tlie aftectionate sympathy of 
 friends and relatives, this is the task to which God's 
 providential word invit(;s those whom I am now 
 addressing. That voice must hereafter call them to 
 duties sterner than these, to duties which we cannot 
 hope successfully to undertake if we shall have failed 
 in our less arduous ])robation. 
 
 And remendjer acrain how Itrief the time is durinjf 
 which we can enjoy our present advantages, and how 
 needful it is, therefore, with Christian resolution and 
 perseverance, to redeem that time. 
 
 We look back on three years of school])oy life as a 
 period indefinitely long, and we are apt to think that, 
 in thethree years of our college course, we may accom- 
 [»lish whatever we please ; and so over-confidence is 
 too oi'ten permitted to betray us into dejecticm and 
 disappointment: we waste the morning hours, and 
 learn too late that it is in the morning that the day's 
 work must begin. The close of a single year may, 
 
 in 
 
 \ 1 1 
 
 111 
 
ill: 
 
 (ill 
 
 214 
 
 T//E REJECTION OF SAUL. 
 
 -:r:! 
 
 ^\V;'- ! 11; 
 
 m. 
 
 however, teach us how soon the three years must end, 
 and may warn us that each must leave its own proper 
 task completed, if our work is not to grow hopelessly 
 upon our hands. 
 
 And let us still remember that our work is God's 
 work, and that the ([uestion is not whether we will 
 acquit ourselves or no of some self-imposed task, but 
 whether we will do that which God, by His various 
 gifts of capacity, of time, of opportunity, of encourage- 
 ment and assistance, is loudly calling upon us to 
 accomplish. Let us remember, moreover, how momen- 
 tous an influence upon our future life must, in all 
 probability, be exerted by our conduct here. We might 
 well value these brief years of study on the sole ground 
 of the eftect which they will surely produce, according 
 to the manner in which they are passed, upon our 
 moral and intellectual character. But, besides this, 
 they are of fearful importance, as determining, to a 
 large extent, our future position and prospects in life. 
 We may have cause, in years far distant, to call to 
 mind, for joy or sorrow, the days which we have spent 
 here ; to recognize, with gratitude or with self-reproach, 
 the tokens which they have left behind them. We 
 may iind ourselves judged again and again by that 
 record, reaping again and again, when we little expected 
 it, the harvest of that youthful seed-time. And is this 
 thought full of fear ? Let us remember that it is full 
 of hope also ; that God meant it to be full of hope to 
 
 tiiil! 
 
THE REJECTIOX OF SA UL, 
 
 215 
 
 st end, 
 proper 
 >elessly 
 
 s God's 
 jve will 
 isk, but 
 various 
 jourage- 
 1 us to 
 momen- 
 t, in all 
 Ve miglit 
 e ground 
 .ccording 
 ipon our 
 ,des this, 
 ing, to a 
 ,s in life. 
 call to 
 ive spent 
 reproach, 
 em. W*3 
 by that 
 expected 
 ad is this 
 it is full 
 If hope to 
 
 us; that He would invite us, under the blended in- 
 fluence of that hope and fear, to redeem this tlirice 
 I-recioLis time. 
 
 But, again, let us remember that a just appreciation 
 of our relation to God, a riixht understanding: of His 
 providential word addressed to us, must wholly forbid 
 our entertaining the wayward design of making no 
 effort to retrieve past neglect. We may be conscious 
 of not having put in practice good resolutions, of having 
 abandoned plans of self-improvement which we ]n\d 
 down for ourselves on coming hither ; and unless a 
 very strong sense of duty be interposed, the painful 
 conviction that time and opportunity have been lost, 
 is more likely to check than to stimulate future 
 effort. 
 
 But a serious remembrance of our duty to God, of 
 the demand which He makes upon us as the objects 
 of His providential care, will prevent this disastrous 
 result. We have sVdl His will to obey, His work to 
 do ; we have still the hope of not wasting all our seed- 
 time, still the wholesome fear of adding sin to sin. 
 
 And here, too, Saul may be a lesson to us. He fell 
 once, but he was put on a new trial. Had he passe<l 
 through that successfully, though his kingdom was not 
 to be established for ever, yet his life and his death 
 might have been widely different from what they were. 
 But in the second trial he was again found wanting, 
 and then came the terrible words — " The Lord hath 
 
in 
 
 H' i ' . ' Jf' ^ i'-n. I 
 
 I » 
 
 ■*' • '> i i 
 
 
 21 ft 
 
 THE RKJECriOX OF SAUL. 
 
 i V. 
 
 rejected thee from being king;" "The Lord hath rent 
 tlie kingdom from thee this day." Saul could not 
 endure tliis word, and we should take warning from 
 Ills story. Tliere is a joyous, hopeful, easy service, 
 winch the young heart may gladly render, if it will 
 hut I'esolve not to cloo; itself with errors and offences. 
 Tliere is a voice of God which it is a delight to ol)ey 
 — a voice whicli sununons to useful and honourable 
 exertion, to the exercise of powers which have been 
 strengthened an<.l disciplined by intellectual and moral 
 culture : but, if this voice be disregarded, then there 
 <*omes a sadder and a sterner voice, biddimj; iis o'ather 
 up the fragments lest all be lost; bidding us serve God 
 with the poor residue of our Avasted strength, with the 
 gleanings of oiu* squandered opportunities ; bidding us 
 serve Him in. some lower room, with ftir less delight, 
 with far greater toil. 
 
 To Saul this voice came, and he would not endure 
 (i) hear it. And here it is worthy of all observ^ation 
 liow God condescended to soften, to his proud and 
 wayward si)i]-it, the bitterness of his humiliation. It 
 is, indeed, most remarkable that his destined successor 
 should have l)ecome in turn the soother of his melan- 
 clioly, his armour-bearer, his deliverer from the enemy, 
 his son-in-law, and the bosom friend of him who., as 
 Saul had ho})ed, should have reigned in his stead. 
 These appointments of God's providence, coupled with 
 the fact that both to Saul and to Jonathan was known 
 
 0*' : 
 I" 
 
 ill': 
 
THE KEJEC'riOX OF SAUL. 
 
 217 
 
 1 rent 
 
 (1 n(^t 
 
 t from 
 > 
 
 ervice, 
 
 it will 
 
 fences. 
 
 3 ol)ey 
 
 )urablc 
 
 e been 
 
 I moral 
 
 1 tlicre 
 
 o-ather 
 
 •ve God 
 
 ,4tli the 
 1 
 linf; us 
 
 leliglit, 
 
 endure 
 rvation 
 id and 
 on. It 
 ccessor 
 melan- 
 enemy, 
 »vhO; as 
 stead, 
 d with 
 known 
 
 tlie divine purpose of exalting David to the kingdom, 
 would surely intimate that God was still offering to 
 the fallen monarch once more peace with Heaven and 
 with himself, and was inviting him, by the attractive 
 r irtues of the son of Jesse, by his daughter's love for 
 her husband, and by Jonathan's generous devotion to 
 his friend, to end)race the dreaded intruder into his 
 regal office, in the [)erson of a brave and faithful subject, 
 of a noble and ati'ectionate son, and to bless Heaven 
 that its mercy had thus kiiuUy tempered the bitter 
 cup, which could not i)ass away from \\\\v exce^tt he 
 <lrank it. 
 
 We can scarcely escape the conclusion that such 
 was the gracious i)urpose of God ; that ^/</.s word of 
 God was also uttered in the ear of Saul, and that ho 
 rejected it. Let us remember, then, while tiiere is yet 
 time to profit by the rememljrance, how veiy hard it is 
 to listen to a word like this ; how hard to learn that 
 cherished hopes are gone for ever, and gono through 
 our own fiiult ; how hard to submit to serve God in 
 some far lower place than that which we nn'ght have 
 occupied, under disadvantages and difficulties which 
 must evermore painfully remind us of {)ast offences and 
 neglects. This is a temptation into which we must 
 earnestly pray God not to lead us, into which we must 
 l>e very careful not to plunge ourselves. 
 
 What can be more sad than to trace this downward 
 course in the instance of another ? What more pitiable 
 
2l8 
 
 THE REJECTION OF SAUL. 
 
 Wi 
 
 ( ■;., 
 
 Wk. i 
 
 than to find a man compelled to draw this torturing 
 contrast between what he might have been and what 
 he is ? And, in our own instance, how can we possibly 
 anticipate what may be the ultimate result of that 
 fiery trial if it should overtake us — whether we shall 
 be content, under its pressure, to "go. softly all our 
 days in the bitterness of our soul," or whether we shall 
 spurn at the rod as Saul did, and choose to forget God 
 and to hate man, rather than acknowledge our own 
 transgression ? 
 
 Fearful, indeed, is the danger of making for our- 
 selves a past on which we dare not look ; and surely 
 we all know enough of that hatred of the light, which 
 is the consequence of evil-doing, to lead us to seek 
 earnestly of Almighty God that He would keep us 
 from accumulating for ourselves bitter recollections, 
 which may hereafter affright us from the necessary 
 duty of calling our own ways to remembrance, and 
 thus shut us out alike from true repentance and from 
 the hope of pardon and restoration. 
 
 So solemn, then, is God's providential voice to any 
 who are enjoying the advantage of intellectual and 
 moral preparation for the duties of maturer life ; but 
 let us remember, also, that His providence addresses 
 a special word to us, as members of a college lately 
 founded, and still awaiting the development of its 
 system, and the establishment of its hold upon the 
 sympathy and the confidence of the Church. 
 
!i 
 
 THE REJECTION OF SAUL. 
 
 219 
 
 murine' 
 what 
 >ssibly 
 f that 
 3 shall 
 ill our 
 e shall 
 et God 
 ir own 
 
 yc our- 
 surcly 
 
 , which 
 
 to seek 
 eep us 
 
 ections, 
 cessary 
 ce, and 
 d from 
 
 to any 
 lal and 
 fe ; but 
 Idresses 
 3 lately 
 i of its 
 :)on the 
 
 The events of the academical year,* whicli is now 
 closing, can scarcely have failed to impress every one 
 amongst us. We do, no doubt, all feel, more or less, 
 the responsibility which a Uaches to us as members of 
 a foundation which has awakened so much kindly 
 interest, and called forth so much Christian liberality. 
 In looking at the grey walls of ancient collegiate insti- 
 tutions at home, one has often dreamt that the days 
 in which they were reared must have been days of 
 more fervent piety than the present, and that, had we 
 lived in those days, we should indeed have admired 
 and loved our founders and benefactors. Let us, then, 
 remember that, before o'lr eyes, a like charitable work 
 is being carried out, that we have seen it progressing 
 step by step, that we are witnesses of the generous 
 desire to perfect it. 
 
 Is there not a special word of God addressed to us, 
 as those who are enjoying the fruits of tliat wise and 
 liberal spirit with which He has animated the founders 
 and benefactors of this society ? 
 
 Ought we not all earnestly to resolve that, by God's 
 help, nothing shall be wanting on our part to further 
 their pious aims, that nothing shall be done on our 
 part to counteract and disappoint them ? Nor let us 
 forget that this responsibility is shared by a number 
 comparatively small, and that consequently a greater 
 importance attaches to the conduct of each — to his 
 * See liote at the end of the sermon. 
 
^""It 
 
 330 
 
 77//-: Rr^JECTIOX OF SAVr.. 
 
 (', 
 
 ? i 
 
 if 
 
 cxamjtle "wlietlier of evil or of good. Wo shall fcol, 
 no doubt, in years to come — I trust that wo feel now 
 — that the zealous and patient exertions of the bishop 
 of this diocese on our behalf, his lively interest in 
 everything which concerns our welfare, bring us under 
 a peculiar obligation to seek the prosperity of the 
 college for his sake, and to strive that, so long as God 
 shall spare him to the Church, he may see here much 
 cause for joy and thankfulness, small occasion for 
 anxiety or disrpiietude. 
 
 Once more, there is a providential word of God to 
 us as members of a Church university. The Church, 
 alas ! has ever been, and must ever be, till the end, an 
 exclusive term ; let us not forget that it is also an 
 inclusive term, and that its pale may be wider than 
 our charities. God forbid that we should ever, under 
 the pretence of charity, be guilty of the most un- 
 charitable act of surrendering or compromising any 
 catholic truth ; but let the very appellation Catholic 
 remind us in what spirit such truths must be main- 
 tained, with what aim they must be confessed. We 
 nmst learn to love truth reverently and modestly for 
 its own sake ; we must learn to confess it in its proper 
 ])lace, in its due proportion, and in a becoming temper. 
 Men will listen to the teaching of earnest piety, when 
 the selfsame doctrine, from, the noisy disputant or the 
 subtle controversialist, would but perplex or offend 
 them. The holiest truths may be profaned by the 
 
THE REJECTIOX OF SAUL. 
 
 221 
 
 fuel, 
 
 now 
 iyhop 
 ;st in 
 under 
 )f the 
 sGod 
 much 
 >n for 
 
 iod to 
 hurcli, 
 nd, an 
 Iso an 
 • than 
 under 
 ^t un- 
 ,g any 
 (tliolic 
 main- 
 We 
 Itly for 
 [proper 
 |i3mpcr. 
 when 
 or the 
 I offend 
 )y the 
 
 advocacy of an uncliastenod spirit. We may liold tliem, 
 catliolic as tliey are, in a sehisinatical — yes, even in an 
 heretical spirit, clierisliin^jj tliein as badges of party 
 strife, and as Ijeinj^ antagonistic, in our esteem, to 
 (►ther truths, with which they are yet in perfect 
 liarmony. 
 
 It is a matter of great satisfaction to liave wit- 
 nessed tlie general interest discovered in the college 
 by the clergy of this diocese. Let it be our care to 
 cherish that interest, to do nothing causelessly to chill 
 it, seeking to belong to no party, but to the Church 
 of Christ, and to avow our belief and express our con- 
 victions, as duty shall suggest and occasion re([uire, 
 not for the purpose of repelling, but with the desire 
 of winning, others. The truths which we hold in 
 common with otlier members of our own communion, 
 sh(juld be made the basis of a more comj)l(ite and 
 cordial unity with them; and we must patiently and 
 cheerfully meet, on that connnon ground, nu'n whose 
 tastes and opinions may harmonize but little with 
 our own. 
 
 God grant us evermore the hearing oar, the undfr- 
 standing and obedient heart, that we may never i-ej^'ct 
 His word, as Saul did; and so may escape th*; miseiy 
 of being rejected by Him from that high and holy 
 relation to himself, which was butdindv foreshadowed 
 in the honours and privileges enjoyed by thu King (jf 
 Israel 
 
 I »■ 
 
222 
 
 THE REJECTION OF SAUL. 
 
 Note. — In the early part of 1853 the Rev. Wni. McMurray, 
 D.l). (now Archdeacon of Niagara), completed a tour in the 
 United States on behalf of Trinity College. The members of 
 the sister Church in that country generously contributed 
 nearly 810,000 (£2000) in books and money. In April, 1853, 
 Alexander Burnsido, M.D., presented to the college the mu- 
 nificent sum of 824,000 in lands and money, with a portion of 
 which two scholarships bearing his name were endowed. 
 
 V'Vi" \ 
 
 m I 
 
SERMON XVII. 
 
 Preached in Trinity College Chapel on June 
 28, 1857, being the Last Sunday in the 
 Academical Year. 
 
 For the Third Sunday after Trinity. 
 
 1 Samuel ii. 17. — ** Wherefore the sin of the young men waa 
 very great before the Lord : for men abhorred the offering 
 of the Lord." 
 
 We have been reading this morning of the gi'ievous 
 offences of Hophni and Phinehas, t^ie sons of Eli ; 
 offences by which tliey desecrated God's holy place 
 and profaned the ordinances of His service. In the 
 text the magnitude of their transgression is marked 
 by the fearful results which followed from it; their 
 " sin " is said to have been " very great before the 
 Lord," because " men abhorred the offering of the 
 Lord." We must, however, be careful to observe that 
 the conse(iuences of their inicpiity are, probably, thus 
 made the measure of its guilt, only because those 
 consequences were natural and all but inevitable — 
 the legitimate fruits of their conduct — a harvest of 
 
m.'^. 
 
 iir 
 
 i!f;!: 
 
 [i;; 
 
 Hf 
 
 h ' 
 
 : : 
 
 t 
 
 224 
 
 THE SIX OF THE SOXS OF ELI. 
 
 evil, which reason and conscience would have taught 
 them most assuredly to anticipate from the corru])t 
 seed which tiiey had sown. We have, indeed, n(j 
 reas(m whatev(jr to sujipose that the Almighty esti- 
 mates the crin/mality of conduct by results of a more; 
 accidental nature. Some very grievous consetpienee 
 may occasionally follow from an act of sin not only 
 without the design, but to tlie bitter regret, of the 
 offender ; and although instances of this kind may 
 serve the wholesome end of opening our eyes to the 
 danger of doing anything whatever in violation of 
 the holy law of God, j^et it cannot be sup])osed for a 
 moment that a^ny such fortuitous result can stani]) 
 a sinful act Avith m-eater ijjuilt than that which would 
 have attached to it had no such result followed. We 
 nuist therefore bear in mind that the sin of Ho])hni 
 and Phinehas ''was verv u'reat before the Lord," 
 because the aVdiorrence of His offering on the part of 
 the outraged worsliippers was its natural consecpience, 
 a conse([uence which the proffxne ])riests could not Itut 
 have anticipated, and which they had learned to con- 
 temi>late with indifference. W^e must also remember 
 that ' the state oJ life to which it had pleased (Jod to 
 call them " was in every way ca,lculated to awaken 
 their conscience — to quicken their moral perceptions 
 — in respect of the point in question. They could 
 not easily be blind to the meaning of those services 
 which it was their duty to administer; they could 
 
 
THE SIN OF THE SONS OF ELI. 
 
 T1 C 
 
 not easily sec their fellow-countrymen coniiu!:^' up, in 
 obedience to the divine cunuuand, to "the place which 
 the Lord their God had chosen," hriuLiinLf thither 
 "their burnt offerings, their sacrifices, their tithes, 
 and the heave otlerings of their hand, and all their 
 choice vows which they vowed unto the Lord," with- 
 out being forcibly reminded of the sacred impoit of 
 these acts of duty, of the spiritual worship which they 
 were in all cases designed to exhibit, and in many 
 instances did actually express. The joyous peace 
 offering, the penitential sin or tres})ass ofh.'i-ing, the 
 vow gla<lly paid by the thankful worshi{)pei' whose 
 heart was yet softened by the fiesh memory of pain 
 or S(jrrow, would each have a voice of its own foi* an 
 understanding an<l obedient priest; he would sym- 
 pathize with the peo})le between whom and their God 
 h" was comniissi(jned to stand; and the earnest desire 
 of his heart would be that nothing might be lacking 
 oil his part which might rendin' the solemn service of 
 the tabernacle more profitable to tlie worship})er, or 
 more acceptable to Him who had contlescended to dwell 
 between the cherubim. 
 
 Nor have Ave reason to suppose that, in the in- 
 stance of the sons of Eli, such early teaching had 
 been wanting, as might have pre|)ared them at a 
 maturer age to think and feel rightly lespccting their 
 holy duties. Eli was, probably, an over-indulgent 
 parent ; yet his words and acts, as they ai(.' lecorded 
 
 Q 
 
 
.'^mmmmm 
 
 226 
 
 T//£ SLV OF THE SONS OF ELI. 
 
 \ \ 
 
 r 
 
 I ..' ■; U' 
 
 
 : f' 
 
 i 
 
 ihi 
 
 ! ia 
 
 in Holy Scripture, would lead us to conclude that ho 
 was personally a faithful and devout servant of God, 
 one fr(jm whose example and instruction his sons 
 might have learned to be far other than they were. 
 Yet these unhappy meu were indeed "sons of Belial; 
 they knew not the Lord ; " the sacred and honourable 
 services to which they had been called inspired them 
 with no pure or elevated sentiments ; their least 
 criminal thoui^hts were but of the tiesh-hook and of 
 the roast, and Israel was taught to loathe those hal- 
 lowed rites which were defiled by the profanity and 
 the impurity of the priests of the Most High. 
 
 It may appear at first sight that from so melan- 
 choly a story of irreligi(m and profligacy we, ha[)pily, 
 have but littie to learn ; and this might gladly be 
 conceded, if the sacred narrative were calculated to 
 teach us nothino- more than to abstain from followinii' 
 the example of Hophni and Phinehas in all its gross- 
 ness. But the truth is that we have far more than 
 this to learn from the lesson of to-day. The same 
 voice Avhich condemns the offences of the sons of Eli, 
 commends to us also the higliest rule of duty; the 
 man of God, who came to the aged high priest, did 
 not merely denounce the grievous sin, of which his 
 family had been actually guilty, and which is cha- 
 racterized as "kicking at" God's "sacrifice and 
 offerino- ; " he also reminded Eli oi what his house- 
 hold should have been, by speaking of the " faithful 
 
11: 
 
 THE SIN OF THE SONS OF ELI. 
 
 227 
 
 lat be 
 I God, 
 I sons 
 were. 
 Belial ; 
 )ural)le 
 \ them 
 r least 
 and of 
 )se lial- 
 ity and 
 
 , mclan- 
 Imppily, 
 
 adly be 
 llated to 
 
 )llow'ing 
 
 L8 OTOSS- 
 
 ,re til an 
 Ihe same 
 
 of Eli, 
 iity; tlie 
 iest, did 
 lliicli lii^ 
 
 is clui- 
 
 ice and 
 
 Is liouse- 
 
 faithful 
 
 priest " wliom the Lord should " raise up," and who 
 should do " accordini' to all that was in His heart and 
 in His mind." Moreover, livin:^, as by God's grace 
 we do, under tlie new covenant, we must liberally 
 interpret the instructions of tlie old, according to the 
 spirit rathe)- than the letter, in the form of })ositive 
 rather than of negative laws. This mode of inter- 
 pretation is adopted, both by our Blessed Lord and by 
 His apostle, in respect of the Decalogue. Our Lord 
 Himself, in the Sermon on the Mount, j)roves the wide- 
 extending^ range of the commandments ; and althouLih 
 He still adheres mainly to the negative form, yet by 
 proving that they exclude evil in every shape, whether 
 of thought, word, or deed. He indicates with suflicient 
 clearness that the law which ])rohibits all which is 
 evil, does indeed enjtjin the practice of all that is good. 
 S. Paul, also, in the fourth chapter of the Epistle to 
 the Ephesiaus, most instructively develops the pro- 
 hibitory injunctions of the law of Mount Sinai into 
 the hortatory precepts of the law of Mount Sion, 
 showiniif that the eiu'lith commandment invites not 
 only to honest labour but to almsgiving, and the 
 seventh to a pure and wliolesome conversation. 
 
 Again, when the apostle speaks, in the same 
 chapter, of the Gentiles " who, being past feeling, have 
 fdven themselves over unto lasciviousness," we shall 
 lose the better part of the instruction which his words 
 convey, if we sui>pose that the absence of feeling — the 
 
 W 
 
THE SIN OF THE SOXS OF ELI. 
 
 
 ii5( 
 
 ; ■(■ 
 
 (leadness of tlie moral sense — of wliich lie speaks must 
 necessarily discover itself by the same aban<Ione(i 
 profligacy which was its ordinary token in the ancient 
 Gentile world. There may be among us a bluntness 
 of the moral perceptions as entire as theirs was, which 
 yet leads to no such results in our conduct; because 
 God has, in His mercy, abateil, by the moral teaching 
 of His gospel and by the example of His Church, the 
 evil even of the world ; and has thus taught even 
 those, who do not acknowledge the authority of their 
 Redeemer or their Sanctifier, to denounce and punish 
 the gross vices which the pagan world not only prac- 
 tised but ap})ioved. 
 
 In order, therefore, fully to appropriate the lessons 
 of the old covenant or the precepts of the gospel, we 
 must carefuli3^ remember the position whicli we occupy, 
 we nmst thoughtfully consider what will be required 
 of us as Christians by that God who visited with His 
 heavy displeasure those who sinned against the feebler 
 light whether of the Mosaic revelation or of the 
 natural law written in the heart. And, besides, how- 
 are we to escape the danger of becoming even such 
 persons as Ho})hni and Phinehas were, how are we to 
 escape the danger of falling even into the vices of 
 heathenism, except by striving to do the will of God 
 from the heart ? Men are not their own masters. 
 There are two masters whom, as our Lord has toM 
 us, we may in vain attempt to serve simultaneously, 
 
THE SIN OF THE SONS OF ELI. 
 
 229 
 
 must 
 loned 
 icient 
 itncss 
 which 
 [3cause 
 iichiii;^ 
 ch, the 
 t even 
 )f their 
 punish 
 y prac- 
 
 Icssona 
 ,pel, we 
 occupy, 
 [•e(\uired 
 ith His 
 b feebler 
 of the 
 es, how 
 len sucii 
 •c we tt) 
 ices ot" 
 of God 
 :nastevs. 
 ;ias toM 
 lueously, 
 
 but He (Iocs not speak of the possibility of beini^ 
 exempt from the service of l)otli. And even if we 
 could be thus exempt, thus free to work our own solo 
 pleasure, what can be conceived to be a greater affront 
 to the majesty of Almighty God than that a man 
 should delilterately rc.^solve, for his own sake, to abstain 
 from evil in its gi-osser forms, to consult his present 
 personal welfare and tlie good opinion of his fellow- 
 men by maintaining a moderation and decency of 
 conduct, and yet to withhold from the Maker and 
 Saviour of his soul and body that sacrifice of both to 
 His service which is indeed "most meet and right " ? 
 
 And now to ap})ly these observations to the 
 instance before us. Let us not imagine that thounhts 
 should not arise in our hearts as we read the story of 
 Hophni and Phinehas, even though we may look upon 
 their conduct with abhorrence, and have good reason 
 to trust that Ave may never be ])artakers in their 
 specif.e offences. We may regard their condnct as 
 reproved both by a negative and by a positive precept, 
 .ind under the terms of each of these ])recepts we shall 
 find that we have much to lay to heart. And, first, 
 the negative precept which we may regard as being 
 implied in the narrative before us, is this, " Thou shalt 
 not cause men to abhor the offering of the Lord." 
 Many of those who are present are destined for the 
 sacred ministry, and to them I wonld in the fii'st 
 instance address mvself Let, then, those of us who 
 
 M 
 
 il 
 
 \\ 
 
230 
 
 THE SIN OF THE SONS OF ELL 
 
 J "h 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 arc now in Holy Orders, or who purpose to receive 
 theiri^ hereafter, bear in mind this negative prece])t, 
 and remember tliat it may be violated by transgres- 
 sions very different in degree, and even in kind, from 
 tliose external acts of which the sons of Eli were 
 guilty. Their sins were those of a rude ago, of men 
 of coarse minds ; and we are too apt to consider that 
 in this rudeness, in this coarseness, lies the grava- 
 men of their offence. We are willing to resent the 
 ontrage which is offered to the decencies of society — 
 to that decorum which man now exacts from his 
 fellow, and consents in his own person to observe ; but 
 we are too prone to neglect the important inquiry 
 whether the same renunciation of alle^'iance to 
 Almighty God, the same " contempt of His word and 
 commandment," may not be discovered in a more 
 specious form, under a more plausible exterior. What 
 were the sins of Hoi)hni and Phinehas in the abstract, 
 detached from the external acts by which they were 
 discovered? What were they in their essence, ab- 
 stracted froni their separa))le accidents ? They were 
 the selfish love of gain, and the selfish love of pleasure. 
 Thus stated, we see at once that the sins of these 
 unhapi>v men are not to be put a^ide as sins to which 
 we are in no wise liable, with wliicli we have no con- 
 cern. They are sins to which fallen man is prone in 
 every age and in every clime, however their outward 
 manifestation may be modified in deference to tht^ 
 
THE SIX OF THE SOXS OF ELI. 
 
 231 
 
 iceivc 
 3cept, 
 ^gres- 
 , from 
 were 
 »f men 
 ;r tliat 
 crava- 
 nt tlie 
 2iety— 
 om bin 
 ^e; but 
 inquiry 
 nee to 
 ord and 
 a more 
 Wliat 
 ,l)stract, 
 iy were 
 ice, al»- 
 by were 
 )leasure. 
 j)f these 
 lo wliieli 
 I no con- 
 trone in 
 )iitward 
 to the 
 
 opinions of society, or in compliance with tliose moral 
 instincts wliich may exist in a lieart which is not 
 possessed by the love and fear of God. 
 
 First, then, the love of gain, exhibited by Christian 
 ministers, may cause men to abhor the oHerinLj of the 
 Lord. Tbe religious may be offended, the doubtful 
 and faint-hearted discouraged and repelled, the 
 worldly minded confirmed in their contem[)t for holy 
 things, by finding that they who minister in those 
 holy things are no less sordid, no less selti.sh than 
 others who stand aloof and })rofess no regard for 
 religion. The devout may be sick at heart, and 
 sorrowfully avow that they can find little or no 
 comfort in means of grace in which they would other- 
 wise heartily delight ; the doubting soul may be led 
 to arrive at a most unha})}>y solution of its doubts; 
 the heart to wliich God has spoken, and which has 
 been reluctantly listening: to His voice, may be aided 
 in arriving at the false conclusion that it has been 
 only beguiled by gloomy delusicms, by unreal and 
 groundless a})prehensions ; and the hardene<l w<jrldling 
 may be made yet more hai'tU'ued, and l)e enabh.'d 
 eti'ectually to deaden the consciences of others, iiias- 
 nmch as a plausible pretext is afforded him for repeat- 
 ino- his favourite maxims, that reliiiion is but a name 
 — that, fair as it nuiy be in theory, there never yet 
 was a hunum heart which was honestly subject t*^ its 
 influence. Let us remember that a worldly spirit in 
 
 
232 
 
 THE SIN OF THE SONS OF ELI. 
 
 w ':; 
 
 ' ' I 
 
 ml 
 
 M ■ ' 
 
 M 
 
 a clergyman, an undue desire of* aggrandizement, a 
 keen pursuit of temporal advancement, a prei'erenee of 
 j)ersonal interests to higher claims and duties, any 
 approximation, indeed, to tlie unscrupuh)us and dis- 
 ing'iuuous |)olicy of the slave of mammon, flows from 
 the same evil source, and leads to the same disastrous 
 results, with the sordid covetousness of the sons of Eli. 
 But, again, there is a selfish love of pleasure which 
 is most unworthy of the character of a Christian 
 minister, and most fatal to his usefulness. The 
 ministers of the Chui'ch are set apart to hoiy func- 
 tions ; they have sacred and solemn duties to perform, 
 and they must he content themselves to stand aloof 
 from those follies which it is their office to reprove — 
 fnmi those vanities which they are bound to rej)resent 
 as ensnaring. Their parochial ministrations, if they 
 are duly discharged, l)/-ing them constantly in contact 
 with scenes of sorrow, with spectacles of sickness and 
 mortalitv ; those sad realities, which the i-'reat mass of 
 men may forget till [)ersoiuil exjH'rience forces them 
 upon their attention, are hahitually hefore the eyes of 
 a minister of Christ; and he nuist indeed lie most 
 unworthy of his office, if he does not find that the 
 contem})lation of so man}' of the hitter consecpiences 
 of sin hahitually sohers his mind, and dis])oses him to 
 seek some other refreshment than that which is to be 
 derived from the frivolous anuisements or the heartless 
 dissipation of the world. Nor should a minister con- 
 
 •Plt 
 
K==.-^ 
 
 IM 
 
 THE SIX OF THE SONS OF ELL 
 
 ^33 
 
 ^,nt, a 
 ncu of 
 ;, any 
 1 (lis- 
 3 from 
 strous 
 of Eli. 
 wliicli 
 ristian 
 The 
 
 ^f flUlC- 
 
 orft)i"in, 
 (I aloof 
 n-ove — 
 
 plVSL'llt 
 
 if they 
 coiitaet 
 CSS and 
 iiuass ot 
 s them 
 eyes of 
 e most 
 uit the 
 l^ucnees 
 him to 
 s to he 
 artless 
 er con- 
 
 sult only the dictates of his own heart ; ho should 
 reniL'iidjL'r also the olfect whicli niay l)e j)roduced on 
 others. Men will not always judi^e him fairly, they 
 will sometimes feel a strong temptation to do otherwise ; 
 it will often be a i^reat relief to them to infer fi-om his 
 appearance amid the gaieties of the worM, and from 
 his demeanour in general society, that he is hut a dis- 
 seml)ler when he i)reaches to them of *' righteousness, 
 soberness, and judgment to come." There may be some 
 who will complain of undue reserve, but reserve will 
 generally command respect; while it will be hard 
 indeed to maintain that resjicct unimpaired, if we 
 consent to mix habitually in societies whither our 
 ministerial ofHce does not call us, and wlieie it will be 
 ditficult in any way to assert it, or to avail ourselves 
 of its protection. Laymen not unfrecpiently complain 
 that familiar intercourse with the clergy destroys or 
 seriously impairs the satisfaction A\hich they had 
 dei'ived froiu the discharii-e of their oflieial duties; 
 and this disai>pointment may well be sui>[)osed to 
 result, in most instances at least, not s(j much from 
 their dise()verim>- in the clerL-v anv vei'V serious faults 
 of charreter, as from their seeinij" tluMu at jji'cat disad- 
 vantage, and in a false position. When we are in deep 
 sorrow, in grievous sickness, on the bed of death, to 
 whoui would we rather have recouise as oui" spiritual 
 guide — to him who lived a simple and secluded life, 
 patiently treading his j^i'escribed path of duty, or to 
 
 I I 
 
'■■J! 
 
 ■t ■ 
 
 i 
 
 li 
 
 234 
 
 T//£ S/N OF THE SONS OF KIJ. 
 
 hi- 
 
 the gay of)nij)ani(Hi of our leisure liouis, witli \vlioiii 
 we liad oCtcii trilled and laii'died, and wlio liad often, 
 perliai)s, awakened witliin us a pleased Huri)rise tliat a 
 minister of the (Jliureli could so thoroughly aec(Uinn(j- 
 date himself to the tone and spirit of the world '. There 
 is a love of pleasure, a cont'orniity to secular fashions 
 and principles, which must necessarily lower a clergy- 
 man's aj)prehension of the duties of his ofiice ; nuist 
 degi-ade, beyond all estimate, the o})inion Avhich those 
 Avith Avhom he associates entertain (jf Christian belief 
 and duty; and must therefore merit, in its degree, the 
 selfsame re})roof ^vhich Eli addressed to his sons: "It 
 is no good report which I hear ; ye make tlie Lord's 
 people to transgress." 
 
 But it is time to proceed to the positive prece[)t 
 involved in the text. It not only says to every minister 
 of God, "Thou shalt not cau.se men to abhor the oil'er- 
 ing of the Lord;" it says also, " Thou shalt instruct 
 and invite men to love and honour the oirerinij' of the 
 Lord." And if we avIU but give ear to this positive 
 prece})t, Ave shall not be under the law of the negative 
 prece[)t ; if we will but do Avhat we ought to do, thei e 
 will be little fear of our doino- what we ou<;ht not. 
 Real devotion to the duties of our .sacred calling will 
 lift us far above the sphere of those temptations by 
 yieldinsj,' to which that sacred callino- i.s disi>Taced. Ihit 
 how are we thus to instruct and invite men to love and 
 honour the otleriiig of the Lord ? First, by a due di.^- 
 
 ijH 
 
 
 
 
 'uv^T'-'^^^BJ 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
THE S/y OF THE SO\S OF ELI. 
 
 235 
 
 L'Ct'pt 
 
 ister 
 il'or- 
 truct 
 t" tlie 
 sitivo 
 ntive 
 tlicve 
 : not. 
 ■ ^vin 
 IS Ijy 
 But 
 
 e aii'l 
 Be di'^- 
 
 clifir^c f)f our puljlic duties, ^[ucli is, indeed, left to 
 tlie individual here, (iod's sorviee is, to a jircat extent, 
 wliat we make it, in tlie esteem at least of the majority 
 of those to whom we miuister. AVe must, then, strive 
 to hring prcpaied hearts to that serviee. It is not 
 by a conventional solenuiity of toue, l>y a supei'tieial 
 decency of behaviour, that we an^ to assist the devo- 
 tion and to awaken the attention of those whoui we 
 are ap|i<)inted to serve. It is l»y a simple, unatleetcd, 
 lieartfelt reverence, which no skill can possibly counter- 
 feit, and which can result only from a settled prisuasiun 
 of the truth of the great doctrines of our faith, and a 
 devout recognition of the awful I'elation in which we 
 stand to the Almighty, of the duty and service which 
 we owe Him. Let us, then, ask of God that our hearts 
 may ever be thus tixed when we utter the words of 
 confessi(jn, of prayer, or of thanksgiving, or when we 
 read the Holy Scriptures in the audience of His people. 
 And let us remember, too, that the sermon is a part of 
 divine service; that, as we are bound to lead (Jod's 
 Holy Word with peculiar reverence.', inasmuch tis we 
 rehearse, in His own jn-esence, the woi'ds oi- works of 
 the Great King, so, too, we s[)eak in His name and in 
 His presence when we preach in the congregati(jn. 
 This remembrance will prevent alike our over-esti- 
 matinii" or undervaluiu«j' the sermon. It will exclude 
 vain thoughts of it, as om/* word to the })eople; it will 
 cheri.sh reverent and solemn thoughts of it, as a w^u'd 
 
 1 . 
 
236 
 
 THE SIX OF TJIE SOXS OF FIJ. 
 
 I I 
 
 ii.i 
 
 
 of cxlioitation or instruction, which is .spoken by divin*? 
 appointment, and for wliicli 1»otli wc and oui* licai-crs 
 will liave to give acc(»unt to CJod. (^ouhl we Ix'ar tliis 
 ever in mind, the tone of our sermons would he insen- 
 sibly elevated ; we shoidd shrink from intro<lueinL,^ into 
 them terms and ex})ressions borrowed from the secular 
 language of tin; day ; our consciousness of the unseen 
 j)resence would impart a chastened dignity to our style ; 
 an<l whatever our intellectual acquirements might be, 
 Ave should not fail to leave on the minds of our heai'ers 
 the snlutaiy conviction that we had given them the 
 fiuit of patient study, of a reverential and lunnblc 
 spirit, and of an earnest desire to glorify God and to 
 edify His Church, by the declaration of Christian truth 
 and the inculcation of Christian practice. 
 
 But, again, oui- piivate ministrations nni.st also 
 teach men to love and honour the offering of the Lord, 
 There arc, unhappily, those who will not learn this 
 lesson in public till they are .sought elsewhere. We 
 must admonish in private those who do not frequent 
 the house of Cod, those who do not receive the neces- 
 sary means of grace ])rovided under the new cove- 
 nant ; we must l»e fellow-workers with God by the 
 bed of sickness, and be diligent to sow the good seed 
 in the fallow ground which He has mercifully broken 
 up by the plough.sharc of trial or atHiction. And, 
 again, if we use due diligence with the young, we may 
 anticipate the growth of much evil, and teach them, 
 
 «' ! 
 
THE SIX or TlfE SOXS OF //./. 
 
 ^-n 
 
 also 
 
 ion I 
 
 tl 
 
 lis 
 
 ^v 
 
 ijue 
 
 lit 
 
 IIL'C'L'S- 
 COVO- 
 
 tlie 
 
 l\ SC.mI 
 
 rokc'ii 
 
 AikI, 
 
 |e may 
 
 tliciu, 
 
 oven r.r our own sakes, to lovo and Iiomoui- tiu' ollri-- 
 in;^ ut' ( }()(1, iK'fnro any bad advico oi* d<'i)nLvtd cx- 
 ann)lt' lias taiii^lit tliciu to aldior it. 
 
 Onco nioic, oiir jxMsonal coiidiict nrist toacli iiu i 
 
 tills love, tliis lioiioui', for (l(jd's holv thin; 
 
 
 
 nr 
 
 responsibility liere is great indeed. Man} men will 
 jiid!,^<! of God and of His truth by tli stan (urd of our 
 
 duet 
 
 ill cli 
 
 >tf( 
 
 th 
 
 conduet ; many will cnarg(3 our oUeiice^ ujion tiie 
 doctrine which wo teach, upon the Church wliicii \v«; 
 serve, and turn away from the truth, by the know- 
 led(^e of which Ood would have thein to be save<l. 
 only because we are unworthy heralds of that truth. 
 Let us think seriously of this res[)onsii>iIity, and k* 
 us pray God to give us grace "to show foi"th J'ws 
 praise, not only with our lii)s but in our livc^^i.'' 
 Faults and imperfections there must be in us juI — 
 daily sins and errors to be confessed and foiv .^i u ; 
 but the grace of God, if we seek it, will assuredly 
 enable us to leave this general conviction on the 
 minds of men, that we are honest and true-heai'ted 
 servants of God, that we believe the holy creed 
 which we profess, that we strive to practise the holy 
 precepts which we inculcate. The grace (jf God, if 
 we diligently seek it, will at least enal)le us so to live 
 that, when we are witlxlrawn from the scene of our 
 labours, those to whom we have ministeied may have 
 a good hope that we are gone to our rest, and may 
 heartily thank God that His providence ordained that 
 our lot should be cast amon<^ them. 
 
^38 
 
 THE SIN OF THE SONS OF ELI. 
 
 Ji i 
 
 fl \ 
 
 Let us, moreover, reflect what a blessed and 
 ;^dorious thinuf it is to liave fulfilled this duty, to 
 liave MLjcornplislHMl this task, in any portion of 
 Christ's CInirch, however remote, however rude, in 
 which we have been called to labour. To have tauixht 
 our fellow-men to love the house of God, to hallow 
 Ilis Holy Days, to fre([iiv nt His ordinances; to have 
 led them to recognize their hiixh ])rivileixes as mend)ers 
 of th(3 Church of (Hirist, and faithfully and obediently 
 to avail themselves of those privileges; to have 
 warmed them in danger, to have counselled them in 
 difhculty, to have comforted them in sickness, to 
 have smoothed the bed of death, to have refreshed 
 the parting spirit with the words of holy pi'ayer, 
 with the blessed promises and life-sustaining gifts of 
 Clirist — is not this indeed angels' work, and has it 
 not promised to it an angel's recompense, in the day 
 when " they tLat be wise shall shine as tiie bright- 
 ness of the firmament; and they that tuin ":any to 
 righteousness as the stars for ever and ever " ? 
 
 And, if we "trust that we are inwardlv moved bv 
 the Holy Ghost to take upon us this office and mi}]i ■ 
 tratiori," shall we hesitate to do so because the la}x>ur 
 is great, and the temporal recompense miserably 
 small? Let us not doubt that G )d will pi-ovide for 
 those who undertake so solenm and self-denying a 
 duty — who come forward to dispense, in the name of 
 Christ, the means of grace to those who must other- 
 
THE SIN OF THE SOXS OF ELL 
 
 239 
 
 and 
 , to 
 . of 
 ', in 
 uMit 
 l11(.w 
 have 
 iihcvs 
 L'utly 
 have 
 jiu in 
 ss. to 
 
 )rayer, 
 
 wise be destitute of thorn. If we have calmly counted 
 the costj and if our heart be indeed in the W(n-k, we 
 need not fear that God will ever forsake those who 
 have left all to follow Him 
 
 I have been liitherto u'k^ .ssing myself exclusively 
 to thoso who are at jiusoi)*. servinij in the sacvd 
 ministry of the Church, or are intendiui;* so to do. 
 Let us n(jt, however, forj-v^ that the text has a lesson 
 which is couunon to us all. Hophni and Phinehas 
 were distin<»"uished froui the iri'eat nuissof their fellow- 
 countrymen as being ])riests of the family of Aaron, 
 yet God had instructed Moses to say to all the children 
 of Israel without exception, " Ye shall be unto me a 
 kingdom of priests, aud an holy nation." And even 
 so, while there are in the Cliristian Church, by divine 
 appointment, ministers of different oidcrs — bishojis, 
 pi'iests, aud deacons — the whole l)ody of the Church 
 is, in S. Ptjter's language, " an holy priesthood, to otl'er 
 up spiritual sacriticcis, acceptable to Cod by Jesus 
 Christ." Thus we may, all of us, as pi'ivatc members 
 of the Church of Christ, be guilty of an oii'encc analo- 
 gous to that of Hoplini and rhinehas ; wi,' may i»y 
 im})iety and sin teach men to hate an<l despise, for our 
 sakes, the truth which we' [)r(tfess. On the other 
 !)and, the la}" mend)ers of the Church, no less than 
 the cleigy, may, by a desout and consistent life, re- 
 coi«m< nd religious truth to the love and I'everence of 
 others, and aid most etl'ectually in extending a belief 
 

 240 
 
 THE SIN OF THE SOXS OF ELL 
 
 I 
 
 in tlio cloctrinos, and ol)edience to the pv-copts, of onr 
 most lioly faitli. 
 
 Let us all alike remember tliat GihI Las called ns 
 to the dist'liarge of this duty; and more espefnally let 
 every one Avho has been admitted into this colleL;'c 
 bear in mind that liis position, as ,i member of the 
 Anglican branch of the Church ( atholie*. and the 
 special benefits wliich lie enjoys as a nuudjer of this 
 society, lay him under a solemn ublii^ation to brini;- 
 no discredit either upon the faith which he })rofesses, 
 or upon the institution Avhich Christian piety has 
 founded for the maintenance and fuitherance of the 
 faith amonij us; but, on the conti'arv, to make his 
 daily life a sacrifice of thanksgiving to God for the 
 unspeakable l)lessings of reception int(» tlie baptismal 
 covenant, and of an education base<l upon a recognition 
 of the privileges and of the duties which reception intn 
 that covenant involves. 
 
 m 
 
IMmi ISm 1 ■■ m* ^-•Mp«MP*>*«ana«ili^tf«i 
 
 t^mnh'^atmmtmmmm 
 
 our 
 
 m1 \is 
 
 f t1u.' 
 1 the 
 i' this 
 Iji'ini;' 
 
 )l\;sses, 
 
 ,.f the 
 Ave hi> 
 for tho 
 itismal 
 -nition 
 oil int" 
 
 SERMON XVIII. 
 Preached in Trinity College Chapel on June 
 
 24, 1800, BEING THE LaST SuNDAY IN THE 
 
 Academical Year. 
 
 For S. John Bapilsfs Day. 
 
 IsATAU xl. 3. — " The voice of him that crieth in the wiUlcrnos.s, 
 rre})aro ye the way of the Lcrd, make straight in the desert 
 a liii^hwav for our God." 
 
 The Church instructs us on this day to commemorato 
 the liieat forerunner uf our Lord's first coming; and 
 as, both in the collect for the day, and also in tho 
 collect for the Third Sunday in Advent, the Bai)tist 
 is presented to us as a model for our imitation, and 
 more especially as an example to Christian ministers, 
 the thouo;hts which tlie day su^-gests will fully har- 
 monize with our own special circumstances at the 
 ci')se i£ the academical year, when a larger imiidier 
 than usual are about to take their leave of us for the 
 iirpose of entering u})on the sacred duties of thr 
 .-liiiistTy. Let us, then, consider the lessons whicli may 
 be drawn from the character of that holy man of Go<.l, 
 
 R 
 

 THE EXAMPLE OF THE BAPTIST. 
 
 \\ 
 
 whose memory we are on this day taught to cherish. 
 He stands in a remarkable position "►• .vveen the law 
 and the gospel, yet, surely, far more closely related to 
 the latter than to the former. "All the prophets and 
 the law," says our Lord, "prophesied until John" — their 
 oilice was but prophetic • "but from the days of John 
 the Baptist until now t\e kingdom of heaven suffereth 
 violence." That kingdom had been announced as 
 close at hand ; men had been warned and invited to 
 prepare for its coming, and by listening to that warn- 
 ing, by oljeying that invitation, they did, by antici- 
 pation at least, " press into it." And, surely, we form 
 not only an imperfect, but an erroneous conception of 
 the character of the Baptist, if we consider that the 
 contrast between his discipline and that of our Blessed 
 Lord is merely to the prejudice of the former ; as if 
 S. Jolm's austerity and severity of tone were but the 
 dark backo-round which should brimj out into full 
 relief the meekness and the gentleness of Christ. 
 Tliere was a contrast, indeed, between the forerunner 
 and Him who was to come — between the herald and 
 the Great King; there was a contrast, yet not an 
 opposition. Wisdom, the wisdom of God, was justified 
 in 1 joth her children ; in the child who Avas called " the 
 prophet of the Highest," and in the Child whose name 
 is " called Wonderful, Counsellor, the Mighty God, the 
 Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace." 
 
 A\'e cannot, indeed, hope to apprehend fully the 
 
»- y W l ^ «BM4BMWIMl 
 
 THE EXAMPLE OF THE BAPTIST, 
 
 243 
 
 illy the 
 
 wondrous ways and works of God ; our joy and con- 
 fidence are that they are far wiser and greater than 
 we can know; yet we may ever, if we will, discern 
 at least some glimpses of His glory and of His good- 
 ness, something wliich may set our hearts at rest, and 
 enable us to wait in quiet expectation till His mystery 
 shall be finished. May we not, then, believe that the 
 person, the habits, the character of S. John the Baptist 
 were peculiarly suited to the nation to which he was 
 sent ? Old faith was dying out among them ; over- 
 laid, in the instance of the Pharisee, by a mass of 
 senseless and immoral traditions; all but extirpated, 
 in the instance of the Sadducee, by hardened and 
 profligate infidelity. If anything could successfully 
 appeal to the conscience of either, it would surely be 
 a reproduction before their eyes of ancient sim])licity 
 and piety. We might almost imagine that a Pharisee, 
 hard pressed in argument, would say to an opponent, 
 " If I am wrong, let an old prophet come to be my 
 teacher;" and that a Sadducee might say, "If I am 
 to believe, it must be at the word of an Elijah." 
 
 And so, on the banks of Jordan, an Elijah stood : 
 a man more fitted to hold converse with Abraham, tlie 
 friend of God — or with his own great prototype — 
 than with their degenerate descendants of his own 
 time : a man bearing no mark whatever of the da} s 
 in which he was born ; having no special sympathies 
 with the existing order of things, whether social, 
 
 i I 
 
244 
 
 rilE EXAMPLE OF THE BAPTIST. 
 
 political, or religious ; discngagod from all petty ties, 
 from all inferior interests ; a son of Abraham, a true 
 antique Israelite ; speaking as it were out of the past 
 to the present, and having nought which bound him 
 to that present but tlie one common hope of Israel; 
 announcing, with startling simj)licity, that the promise 
 Avhieh God had made unto the fathers, He was now 
 fulfillinL!' unto their children. 
 
 Some strong reason there must have been why 
 " all men counte<l John, that he was a prophet indeed ; " 
 some strojig reason why they said, "John did no 
 miracle, but all things that John spake of this man 
 were true ; " and I believe that we shall find this 
 reason in tlie fact that he was instructed to i)resent 
 himself to his countrymen under such a form as 
 carried theii* minds back irresistibly to the ancient 
 glories of their history, and thus reminded them 
 strongly that God Avas ever their King, ever ruling 
 over them, even though Babylon or Rome mi^ht for 
 a while interpose its gigantic shadow between His 
 people and the glory of His presence. 
 
 Nor let us forget that our Blessed Lord, while He 
 Himself deigned to present to us a perfect example, 
 and not only that one aspect of holiness which His 
 servant John presented (for this, let us remember. He 
 did present, when once he fasted for forty days and 
 forty nights, and when, not once, but often, He 
 continued all night in pra^'er to God), still fully 
 
THE EXAMPLE OF THE BAPTIST. 
 
 :^45 
 
 ties, 
 true 
 past 
 
 him 
 ,rael ; 
 )mis'j 
 
 now 
 
 why 
 iced ; " 
 lid no 
 8 man 
 id this 
 )resent 
 )nn as 
 mcient 
 them 
 ruling 
 :ht for 
 len His 
 
 hile Bo 
 ^ample, 
 Lch His 
 Iber, Ho 
 
 lys 
 len, 
 
 ant 
 
 H( 
 
 LI fully 
 
 recognized the typo of moral and s])iritual excellonce 
 which S. John the Baptist exem])liliL'd, as one wliich 
 w^as to he realized in His followers. Did His answer 
 to His questioners on this point iin[)ly that S. John's 
 rule was wr(jng, or that His own disciples were as yet 
 incapable of followinj^^ that rule ? New wine was to 
 be put not in old skins, luit in new, and the skins 
 w^cre not new as yet. The old garment would not 
 bear the insertion of the stout new cloth, I'ut this 
 would find its place Avhen all things were nia<le new. 
 Nor, again, could the children of the bride-cliaiuber 
 fast while the bridesi'room was with them, but the 
 days would come when the bridegroom should be 
 taken from them, and then they should fast. 
 
 If we study the example of S, Paul, we may see 
 in beautiful harmony the characteristics both of \X\Qi 
 forerunner and of our Lord : we may see, on the one 
 side, the austerity of S. John sublimed into Christian 
 endurance, the obligatory and ceremonial al»stinence 
 of the Nazarite transfigured into the voluntary and 
 moral self-denial which the vow of charity presei'il)es ; 
 we mav see, on the other side, the gracious conde- 
 scension of our Blessed Lord imitated by His apostle, 
 in becominix '■ all thini^s to all men." And, if we turn 
 to S. Paul's last instructions to his dearly beloved son 
 Timothy, do we not hear an echo of the voice which 
 cried on the banks of the Jordan, in those remarkable 
 words, " Thou therefore endure hardness, as a good 
 
24-6 
 
 THE EXAMPLE OP THE BAPl'IST. 
 
 U 1 
 
 ! M 
 
 f 
 
 '';'i;ii 
 
 soldier of Jesus Christ. No man that warreth en- 
 tang'leth liimself with the affairs of this life, that he 
 may ])lease him who hath chosen him to be a soldier"? 
 We may, then, without hesitation, both as Chris- 
 tians and as Christian ministers, seek instruction from 
 the example of S. John the Baptist; nor can we do 
 better, in seeking that instruction, than turn to the 
 language of the collect for the day, and observe in 
 what way we are there directed to ask of God that 
 we may follow his example. And first, " by constantly 
 speaking the ti'uth ; " that is, by steadfastly, and with- 
 out hesitation, avowing and inculcating sacred verities. 
 This we nmst do, if we would be useful ministers of 
 the Church ; perhaps I should rather say, if we would 
 not be positively dangerous and injurious to others in 
 the exercise of our sacred office. And, if we would 
 constantly, firmly, steadfastly speak the truth, we 
 must constantly believe it. We are not sent to preach 
 our own opinions, to give utterance to our own fancies, 
 to hazard our own rash conjectures, but to declare the 
 truth of God. What would that voice have been, 
 which cried in the wilderness, had it proceeded from 
 one Avho was not strongly persuaded of the truth of 
 his great message ? How could the simple recluse 
 have met the gaze of Pharisee and Sadducce, the cold 
 contempt of worldly learning, and the hardened scorn 
 of self-indulgence, had he not felt that he bore God's 
 message to man, and had he not been empowered, by 
 
THE EXAMPLE OF THE BAPTIST. 
 
 247 
 
 en- 
 
 .t lie 
 ler ? 
 Ihris- 
 froni 
 ^-G do 
 
 the 
 ve in 
 
 1 that 
 tantly 
 
 with- 
 erities. 
 iters of 
 
 would 
 hers in 
 
 the very depth and carnest^icss of this conviction, to 
 make the most stubborn and the most inditierent feel 
 it also ? 
 
 There is no man to be regarded with deeper pity 
 than one who has adventured to assume the sacred 
 office which obliges him "constantly to speak the 
 truth," while he has not as yet heartily embraced 
 the truth which he is bound to speak. Brethren, how 
 can we speak that which we do not cordially believe ? 
 how can we use words which we acce})t not in their 
 plain meaning ? how can we dare to inculcate, as a 
 holy faith, that which we ourselves regard only as 
 a vague and visionary philosophy ? 
 
 There :s great danger in this regard in our days, 
 and I am bound not to disouise it. We have hiuh 
 examples, which may appear to some to palliate, if not 
 to justify, this grievous offence ; we have instances of 
 men who seem to think that creeds and coiites.sions 
 are made only for ignorant and vulgar minds — are 
 merely a gross exoLeric husk, which may be utterly 
 contemned by those who have grasped, as they con- 
 ceive, the inward truth, which this rude and slia[)eless 
 covering, in their apprehension, at once j)rotects and 
 obscures. 
 
 One,* wdio w^ell knows the state of things at home, 
 speaks, in a recent publication, of " some of our best 
 and noblest minds having made shipwreck concerning 
 • Dr. Vaugban, in his '• Memorials of Harrow Sundavri." 
 
I 
 
 m 
 
 ni 
 
 '■ 
 
 I 
 
 !! 
 
 24S 
 
 Tin: EXAMPLE OF TlfE BAPTIST. 
 
 tlio faith," and lie a<Ms, tliat oven when this fatal 
 coiisecjucnce lias not hucn fully realized, there art; other 
 cases in which the result has been " either a most 
 timid and uncertain <,n'asp of all revelation, or else the 
 selection of a few scattered portions of it and the 
 rejection (secret or avowed) of all the rest.'' " That 
 Avhieh is savetl out of the wreck," he adds, "is too 
 often little more than a gospel without its gospel, a 
 creed wdiich reason couhl have tauglit without I'evela- 
 tion, and which is acepted just hecause it is reason, 
 and not revelati(»n, which warrants it and vouches for 
 it." These are, indeed, pregnant words, and teach us 
 ve]y forcibly what it is to come short of " constantly 
 speaking the ti'uth." 
 
 As members and ministers of the C^hiu'ch of Eni;- 
 land, we have a i)lain guide to follow in our Creeds, 
 our Liturgy, and our Articles. I believe that the day 
 will never come when a Christian man will see good 
 cause to be ashamed of the confession which we make 
 in those fornnilaries ; at all events, no man who is not 
 prepared frankly and cordially to accept them, as the 
 rule and measure of his own teaching, can have any 
 right to intrude himself into the ministry of our 
 branch of the Church. He cannot, in so doing, look 
 for the blessing of Almighty God, for the approval of 
 honest minds, or for the repose of a ipiiet conscience. 
 
 Rut we are next directed to ]>ray that we may 
 follow the example of S. John the Baptist, " by boldly 
 
THE EXAMPLE OF THE EtAPTIST. 
 
 249 
 
 fatal 
 (ther 
 most 
 e the 
 I tlu! 
 That 
 s too 
 pel, a 
 bvela- 
 eason, 
 ics for 
 ich us 
 ;tantly 
 
 '.-5 
 
 rebiikinij vice." And liei'c ivpent events i-cinind us, 
 in a very startlini,^ manner, liow - oon we may l)e called 
 U])<)n to fuljnw his e\'ami)le to the very letter. His 
 words, " It is not lawful for thee to have hei-," have a 
 strann'e a|)[)lieation to the ciiTumstanees of the ])resent 
 time, when the lawfulness and expcdiencv of that very 
 
 1 • V 
 
 'hieli th 
 
 )f (iod dt 
 
 d 
 
 connection, 
 
 the case of a deg'enerate Jew, is jmhliely and inihlush- 
 ingly advocated l)y men who claim for themselves the 
 name of Chi'istians. S. Jolni said, " Tt is not lawful 
 for thee to have thy brother's wife." (In-istian l<-;^is- 
 lators are found to say, "It is lawful for thee to have 
 thy sister's husband." Thus are me!i srikini^ to in- 
 fi-inire the only authoritative marriau:e law which the 
 world has ever received — to break through the one 
 sacred defence which tluj wisdom and benevolence of 
 the Almighty hav(i set around th<3 peace and purity 
 of the domestic circle, elevating tliereby uns[)eakably 
 the moral sense in man, an»l making his earthly 
 existence incomparably more precious to him than it 
 could otherwise have been, by restraining, by a posi- 
 tive enactm nt, his absolute freedom in I'espect of 
 marriati:e. Let this one m-eat law of God be broken 
 throuu'h, an<l we have no o-uard whatever against the 
 flood of ini{|uity ; marriage, accounted n(j longer a 
 holy and honourable thing, will gradually become a 
 thing profane and contemptible, till all distinction 
 between vice and virtue, in this momentous regard, 
 will be utterly obliterated. 
 
 ; 
 
250 
 
 THE EXAMPLE OF THE nAPTIST. 
 
 Wo caniKjt l(>(jk up(m tlicso tbin,i;s m illioiit enter- 
 taining tlie apprehension tliat tlie duty of the ministers 
 of Christ, in tlie assertion of moral obligations, may in 
 future become far more arduous than it has hitherto 
 been, at luast within this realm ; that they may have 
 occasion to urge the law of God upon the consciences 
 of men, unsupported by the authority of human law 
 or of public opinion, and to point to the great tribunal 
 where sin wdll surely be visited, though neither dis- 
 grace nor punishment await its commission here. 
 
 We nmst imitate, then, the bohhiess of S. Jcjhn ; and 
 let us remember that, if we would be successfully bold 
 against this or any other form of evil, we must possess 
 the boldness of innocence — a boldness which none can 
 feel but he who knows that it is not a thing impossible 
 to serve God — not a thing impossible to lead a godly, 
 righteous, and sober life ; the boldness of him who 
 knows that the love of God is the keeping of His 
 commandments, and that His commandments arc not 
 
 grievous. 
 
 But, again, we arc directed to j^ray that, after the 
 example of S. John, we may patiently sutler for the 
 truth's sake. The discharge of the duties already 
 mentioned implies at least the possibility of suffering. 
 Men do not always love the truth, so that it will not 
 always be an acceptable office to sj)eak it constantly ; 
 men often excuse vice, or desire, at all events, in order 
 to gratify themselves, to relax the restraints imposed 
 
THE EXAMPLE OF THE EAmST. 
 
 251 
 
 by roli^Mon and morality, and therefore tliey who 
 boldly rebuke vice will hardly escape censure and 
 harsh treatment. 
 
 It is not, therefore, without some dark forebodings, 
 that we see a ,L;Teat assault i>reparinL;, bc^th against the 
 Christian truth which we are b(jund to speak, and 
 against the (Christian morality which we are bound to 
 uphold ; and wc must, if we would do our duty, be 
 prepared to sutler for the truth's sake. And what are 
 we to suifer ? It may be violence from those who 
 openly reject God, both as the revealer of truth, and 
 as the dispenser of moral laws ; or it may be the more 
 dangerous trial of being subjected to the derision of 
 those who allect to understand, far better than our- 
 selves, both Christian doctrine and Christian practice. 
 And so we may have to suffer as bigots, as men hope- 
 lessly enthralled to obsolete dogmas, to creeds outworn; 
 as men who derive their rules of social order from the 
 barbarous legislation of an ancient nomad race — a race 
 utterly ignorant of the refinements of modern society, 
 and of the requirements of an advanced civilization. 
 I think that we must expect the sneer I'ather than the 
 sword, the trial of cruel mockings rather than of bonds 
 and imprisonment. 
 
 And, if it be so, let us patiently suffer for the 
 truth's sake. For, beyond all doubt, there is a holy 
 truth for which to suffer, a truth of which Christ 
 Himself is the centre, laying His sacred hand upon 
 
252 
 
 THE EXAMPLE OF THE BAPTIST. 
 
 I 
 
 lis- 
 
 both Testaments — iipoii their doctrine and Iheir disci- 
 pline — tellinL,^ us wliat has been fulfilled for evermore 
 in Him, and what is evermore to be fullilled in ns ; 
 Himself the centre of patriarchs and prophets, of 
 evan^^elists and a|>ostles, making every word of tlieirs 
 lEis own, their teaching the truth of God ; and still 
 assuring us, as the deceits of the world would bewilder 
 or allure us, that " the world passeth away and the 
 lust thereof, but he that doeth the will of God aljideth 
 for ever." 
 
 In conclusion, suffer me to remind you that as it is 
 our duty thus to speak the truth, and thus to bear 
 witness against moral evil, in our capacity as ministers 
 of the Christian Church, so also does tliis duty de- 
 volve upon us in a special manner as mendjers of this 
 college.^ I trust that those who have gone forth, or 
 are now o-oinoj forth, from these walls to serve the 
 Church in this province, feel that at least something 
 has been done, durinii: their ])ei'iod of studv here, to 
 prepare them to discharge that service, "^fhey have, 
 at all events, enjoyed the opportunity of l)ecoming 
 conversant with sacred truth ; they have learned liow 
 to prove, from Holy Scripture, the doctrines which our 
 Church ailirms; they have seen something, at least, of 
 the marvellous coherence of the articles of our faith 
 one with another ; they have felt, again and again, 
 how complicated is the testimony which God has 
 given to the great verities which are to be the subject 
 
THE EXAMPLE OF THE BAPTIST. 
 
 253 
 
 disci- 
 nnore 
 III us ; 
 its, of 
 theirs 
 (1 still 
 wilder 
 id the 
 Jjidetli 
 
 as it is 
 ■A) bear 
 inistei's 
 ity de- 
 
 of this 
 th, or 
 
 vo the 
 me thing 
 
 Here, to 
 have, 
 
 coiniiiii; 
 
 e( 
 
 1 how 
 lich our 
 
 ast, of 
 u" faith 
 
 a<j!;ain, 
 od has 
 
 suhject 
 
 of their teachinj:^. Let them think, tlien, of the good 
 providence of God, in a})pointing for tlieni this place 
 of prejiaration for their arduous duty, and let them 
 ever pray Him to give them gi-ace to turn to good 
 account the advantages which they have hero enjoyed. 
 
 Nor let any who are i-eceiving instruction within 
 this collemj imau:ine that their ])Osition here does not 
 entail upon them a ])eculiar responsibility, and lay 
 them under special obligations. The youngest 
 amongst us may remend)er the circumstances under 
 which this college was f(junded, and is aware of the 
 end which its founders had in view. More especially 
 do we know the object whicli the bishop of this 
 diocese pro])osed to himself, when, after a long series 
 of discouragements and disai>i)ointments, he saw the 
 labour of manv years, so far as tlie direct influence (jf 
 the Church and the inculcation of religious truth were 
 concerned, utterly thrown away; and was comj)elled 
 to begin anew, from thu foundation, with greatly 
 diminished resources, the work of his earliei- days. 
 
 At the close of our ninth year we have iinich to 
 be thankful for, in the success of our bis]ioj)'s pious 
 endeavours; but we must also feel that tliero is room 
 for regret that the success has not been more com- 
 ])lete, and that, at all events, steady exei'tion is re- 
 ({uired to ensure the j)ermanint })ros])erity of our 
 society. 
 
 Let us, then, remember that this exertion must be 
 
254 
 
 THE EXAMPLE OF THE BAPTIST. 
 
 \'m. !' 
 
 II 11 < 
 
 made by all, that every one must put his hand to the 
 work. Were our numbers tenfold £,a-eater than thev 
 are, we mi;Gi;ht still urge this argument ; but while 
 they are so small, it must apply with tenfold force. 
 Any single instance of neglect of duty is an appre- 
 ciable loss to us ; if there be anv one amonix us whose 
 misconduct tlu'ows suspicion on our discipline, or 
 whose indolence suggests disparaging remarks upon 
 our course of study, such misconduct or such indo- 
 lence is no small dama£i:e to the colleii:e. 
 
 On the other hand, what can be a more cheering 
 incitement to good conduct, to regularity, and to dili- 
 gence, than the conviction which every one among 
 you may justly entertain, that, by the conscientious 
 discharge of his Christian duty in the place in which 
 God has set him, he is doing very much to build up 
 the general reputation of the society to which he 
 belongs, and to secure results which lie very near the 
 heart of the venerable prelate, who laboured so as- 
 siduously for its establishment, and who has ever 
 discovered so constant and solicitous an interest in 
 its welfare ? 
 
 Give to this college, ther one and all, the help of 
 your earnest eflbrts and of your constant prayers, both 
 while you are studying here and when you shall have 
 left us ; and if, unhappily, you have proof that there 
 are those who have evil will at this nursery of the 
 Church, or who speak calumniously of it, be it your 
 
THE EXAMPLE OF THE BAPTIST. 
 
 255 
 
 car. . disappoint, by your own intellectual and moral 
 excellence, the expectations of its adversaries ; and to 
 stop the mouth of calumny, by proving, in your own 
 persons, that ^^•ithin these walls the young are tau'^ht 
 to believe the holy doctrines, and to practise the jmre 
 morality, of the gospel of Christ. 
 
 ! [ 
 
SEEMON XIX. 
 
 Hi 
 
 Preached in Trinitv College Cilvpel on June 
 25, 18G."), BEING THE Last Sunday in the 
 Acade.micvl Year. 
 
 Titus ii. G. — '' Youiif? men likewise exhort to be sober-minded." 
 
 There arc not a low instances in which the beauty 
 and dignity of the language of Holy Scripture are 
 inevitably marred in a translation, because no terms 
 can be i'(jund capable of con^'eying distinctly and fully 
 the meaniuLr of the original ; and this Avould seem to 
 be the case with the verse before us, the breadth and 
 fulness of the a])ostle's instruction being but partially 
 represented in our version. 
 
 It is, however, a matter of no small moment that 
 we should clearly understand what that instruction 
 is, in wliicli, as a modern writer has said, "A young 
 man's duty is sim})Jy but comprehensively enunci- 
 ated ; " and, in order that we may arrive at this 
 understanding, we must compare other passages in 
 which ;!; ' \"')rd itself, which we translate "to be 
 sober riinded,'" c.:' its cognates occur. 
 
SELF-COXTkJL. 
 
 ^57 
 
 June 
 
 THE 
 
 nded." 
 
 )eauty 
 re aro 
 
 terms 
 I fully 
 !em to 
 and 
 
 tially 
 
 i that 
 uction 
 young 
 nunci- 
 t this 
 ires in 
 to be 
 
 In the verse which innnediately })recede.s tlie text 
 tlie cognate adjective is used, l)eing translated })y the 
 word "discreet," and, as it is innnediately followed 
 hy the word "chaste," we learn that it must at all 
 events include more than tlie latter term expresses. 
 Moral purity is but one result, one manifestation, ol" 
 the "disci'etion" which the apostle enjoins, that " dis- 
 cretion" discovering itself in many other noble and 
 beautiful details of character and conduct; yet pui'ity 
 is, undoubtedly, one most important result of that 
 "safe and sound mindedness," which is expressed l)y 
 the word auxppovuv. 
 
 Let us, then, begin from this, which may be le- 
 iXarded as its narrowest moaninij, and allow that 
 the "sobriety,"' the "soundness of mind," of which 
 the apostle speaks, is an antidote to the undue love of 
 pleasure. The age in which the apostle lived, the 
 character of the |)eople for whose sake and in respect 
 of whom he was giving these instructions, may well 
 have susxi]^ested to liis thouo'hts this meaninii- of tin- 
 term which he employs; and, moreover, universal 
 experience proves how much occasion the young have, 
 in this regard, to cherish sobriety of mind. 
 
 The infatuation which an undue love of })leasun* 
 induces is no sliMit dan<jer to the voiuiij', wlicther it 
 be reirarded ss betraying* them into induly:ences wliicli 
 are })Ositively sinful, or as, in iiistances far morr 
 numerous, enervating and enfeebling the mind, iiii«l 
 
SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 m 
 
 III 
 
 •liverting from the pursuit of intellectual improvement 
 ur of moral excellence. 
 
 We will not, however, dwell on this most obvious 
 lesson, but i)rocee(l to consider in what other ways 
 the sobriety which the apostle enjoins will discover 
 itself 
 
 It not only restrains the undue love of pleasure, 
 but it also corrects every other disortler whctlier of 
 the affections or of the judgment. The man who is 
 " sober," in the apostle's sense, is right-mindfxl, and 
 that in respect both of his opinions and of his feel- 
 ing's : he thinks ariii'ht, and his emotions are well 
 regulated and awakened by fitting objects. 
 
 Let us take a few instances from tlie apostle's 
 writings which may elucidate his usage of the word. 
 To the Romans he says (xii. 3), " I say, tlu'ough the 
 grace given unto me, to every man that is among you, 
 not to think of himself more highly than he ought to 
 think, but to think soberly." The original is far more 
 ])ointed and emphatic than any translation can be; 
 an<l it niay be especially ncjticed that the latter clause 
 may be literally rendered, "but to think t(3 the end of 
 thinking soberly." Here, then, wx learn tluit sobriety 
 is, in the apostle's view, opposed to self-conceit — to 
 an undue persuasion of our own deserts, attainments, 
 or capacities. This self-complacency may arise from 
 dili'erent causes; tVom an ignorance of wliat others 
 iuwe done or can do — an ignorance often voluntary, or 
 
SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 259 
 
 rnent 
 
 vious 
 ways 
 icover 
 
 asiire, 
 ker of 
 vlio is 
 1, and 
 s foul- 
 e well 
 
 oostle's 
 word. 
 
 rh the 
 
 you, 
 ht to 
 
 r more 
 m be ; 
 clause 
 end of 
 briety 
 !it — to 
 ments, 
 e from 
 others 
 ary, or 
 
 i 
 
 from an ignorant confidence in powers of our own 
 which have been but very partially tested ; under 
 this aspect it is jI result of inicJIrctual infirmity. 
 Again, its main source may be, and not unfre([uently 
 is, a strong disinclination to accord their due honoui 
 and love to our brethren in the Body of Clirist; in 
 which case it discovers a iiioral obliipiity and in- 
 firmity. It is thus inconsistent alike with true wis- 
 dom and with true charity; he is the wise and loving 
 man wlio, "in lowliness of mind," has learned to 
 "esteem others better than himself" — to reeogni/.r 
 frankly and cheerfully those particulars of conduct 
 in which others present to him an exam[)le which lit- 
 may safely and gladly follow, and wlio thus thinks 
 of himself in comparison with them "to the end ol' 
 thinking soberly." 
 
 But, again, there is another kind of self-disci])linH 
 which this marvellously pregnant word implies. The 
 apostle says to Timothy (2 Tim. i. 7), "God hath nut 
 given us the spiiit of fear; but of power, and of love, 
 and of a sound mind." ^(ofiiiHJVKr/iiw is the word here 
 emi)loyed, a word which may be taken either intran- 
 sitively, in the sense of " self-control," implying tht; 
 rr'sidt of the process which the cognate verb ex[)ivsM's 
 — the ciui I'udei' of the spirit given by (!od ; or transi- 
 tivelv. in the sense of " schoolini:- to soberness,' thus 
 expressing thi' procf'ss itself from which self-contr-d 
 results, the diicl^iluie un<ler which the spirit given ly 
 
m ' 
 
 260 
 
 SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 mm 
 
 M 
 
 CJod is formed and perfected. Immediately before our 
 text tlic verb (Tw</>f)oi'/^wmv is employed, and is trans- 
 lated " that they may teach," that is. " may school or 
 disci] >line to self-restraint." Whether the word (Tuxppo- 
 vKTfiiHj marks the ])rocess from which the spiiit, of which 
 the apostle s})eaks, residts, or the character of that 
 s})ii'it itself, is of little moment in respect of our 
 present inquiiy ; we may, in either case, readily dis- 
 cern how im})oi"tant an element is here designated in 
 the character of every Christian man, and es])ecially 
 of every Christian minister. Power and love are 
 Avondrous and indispensable motive energies ; the 
 (ToxppovtfTiiwr is that controlling, conservative princii)le 
 which directs them, restraining the excessive or irre- 
 gular action of the one, sustaining the weakness and 
 shieldiug the delicacy of the other. How dangerous, 
 how destructive, may be the operation of power with- 
 out this moderating principle ! How may not the 
 Idessed labours of love be misdirected, and her treasures 
 worse than wasted, without its salutaVy control ! And, 
 again, wJiat an effectual guai'd does it not interpose 
 between these divine gifts ajid the many adversaries 
 and obstacles which they must necessarily encounter ! 
 It is the patient, humble, self-denying spirit of the truly 
 sound-minded man which bears u]) against reverses, 
 endures disappointments, outlives unjust re})roach< ' 
 and thus dearly pui'ehases for the sacred gifts with 
 which it is associated due room and o])portuuity Ibi' 
 
SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 26 r 
 
 the exercise of their enert^ies, for tlie inixatlierinLT of 
 the fruits of their labours. 
 
 But we must take yet another view, from tht; 
 apostle's language, of the sense wliieh he attafhes to 
 the word which he here employs. Standing ix-foro tiie 
 Roman Procurator of Judjca, he said, in rejdy to his 
 taunting interruption, " Paul, thou ai't beside thysell ; 
 much learninc: doth make thee mad, " " I am not mad, 
 most noble Festus, but speak forth the woi'ds of truth 
 and soberness." There may be, there often is, a mad- 
 ness — a want of sobriety — in respect of religious btliet 
 and practice. Men oftentimes, instead of sul)mitting 
 their reason, as a womlrous and most precious gil't of 
 0(jd, to the guidance of the Spirit of Him who gave; it, 
 dream that they are most surely following the guidance 
 of God's Spirit by abandoning tlieir reason. Uncon- 
 sciously adopting heretical opinions, most dishonour- 
 able to the Maker of heaven and earth, they distrust 
 and despise all natural gifts, as if it wero the oiHce of 
 the Blessed Spirit to su])ersede rather than to sanctify 
 them, to annihilate rather than to restore the work of 
 the Creator. But S. Paul urges that bespoke not (»nly 
 the words of truth, l»ut the words of sohcrness. Words 
 wliich might commend themselves to man's heart, not 
 jnerely by virtue of a supernatui'al intlueiice exerted 
 ijpop. him, but also through the medium of his natural 
 tliiderstanding. He would teach us tliat, wliile the 
 will is to be subdued and the affections rectitied, these 
 
262 
 
 SELF-COS'TROL. 
 
 !!; !l 
 
 lower powers arc to bo placctl under the governmont 
 of tlie reason, while the reason itself is to acknowled'^e 
 and a])])rove tlio teacliinj^^ of tlie Spirit of Clod. How 
 nuicli lias not religion suffered at the liands of those 
 who have viewed with suspieion or with contiMupt tlie 
 nuu\ipiin\)y\} of the a])0stle — who have exposefl holy 
 names and sacred verities to the scorn of the unbeliever 
 and the worldling, because they have given the rein to 
 foolish imaginations or disordered aH'ections, and have 
 obscured the majestic sobriety — the awful reasonable- 
 ness — of Christian truth, under the revolting or gro- 
 tes(pie mask of fanaticism or licentious s})eculation ! 
 We nuist remember, too, that this want of soberness 
 is discovered in matters not only of belief l)ut of prac- 
 tice, and that the dignity of heavenly truth may be 
 outraged not only by crude theories but also by extra- 
 vagance ;).nd caprice in respect of ritual observance : by 
 both these modes may men dishonour that roligion 
 which in their hearts thev love, and hinder the 
 advancement of a sacred cause for which they would 
 ])e content to die. 
 
 But, once more, the whole context shows that the 
 apostle regards " sobriety " as the opposite of a worldly 
 spirit ; the schooling, or discii)lining, which he expresses 
 1>y the term aaxjjpovii^wai extends to every particular 
 of conduct ; they who are the objects of this aaxjipovia- 
 fioc are to be taught to shun every error whereby 
 " the Word of God might be blasphemed." Every 
 
 
SELF-COXTROL. 
 
 26^ 
 
 disv^rdcr of the afFcctions oi' of tlie judi^niiont, tliou-^di it 
 may not lea«l to the pursuit of wliat is called pleasure, 
 is opposed to true "sobriety." All uiuidy pass!.. us, 
 all uuwortliy compliances, all iuordinatr dt^'ution to 
 the interests or objects of this life, are alien fi'om the 
 character which the a])ostle directs us to assuuie. 
 
 And how is this sobriety to be attained ? There is 
 but One who can teach us how to attain it, who can 
 teach us to desire and ])rizc the gift ; and lie will teach 
 us tins, in answer to ))rayer, by the power of His Holy 
 Spirit. And by what means does Almighty Cod 
 "sober" man? By revealing to hiiu his real position 
 in God's universe — his future destiny — his ])resent 
 rcsponsil)ility, and })y enabling him to walk by faith 
 in these awful verities. A man may hear again and 
 again the truths of God's Holy Word — the wonders of 
 the life to come ; he may speak of them Avith ]iei'suasive 
 force ; he may conviuce and move others ; and yet they 
 will remain unrealities to himself, except by prayer 
 and watchfulness he invite and obtain the co-operation 
 of the Blessed Spirit, and learn by His help so to live 
 for the world to come, as that its grand and awful out- 
 lines may grow from day to day more distinct before 
 the eyes of his undcn-standing. 
 
 And why should the younrj be exhorted to cherish 
 this sobriety ? Not the young onhj, but the young 
 with others, does the apostle thus exhort. Yet he 
 sums up all his exhortation to young men in this one 
 
 ii 
 
 n 
 

 ^ vr ^ 
 
 s^ 
 
 71 
 
 
 
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 SELF-CONTROL. 
 
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 Avoi'fl. For it is especially necessary that they should 
 cherisli this s))irit. Every danger which has heen 
 mentioned is especially a danger to t/tem ; every gift 
 which God has bestowed on them, every accident of 
 tlieir position, every object which is presented or pro- 
 posed to tliem, involves, more or less, the danger of 
 swerving from the sacred rule of sobriety. 
 
 Life is with them beginning, and in prospect it 
 seems long indeed ; full of enjoyment, full of hope, full 
 of noble aims and purposes ; there is little, it would 
 seem, which may not be realized during the course 
 which lies before them. There is but One Teacher 
 wlio can effectually say to their hearts, " Be sol)er." 
 (Jod can teach them that their bodies and their spirits 
 are His, and that they must glorify Him therewith. 
 Tie can fix their gaze upon the life to come, till the 
 longest life on earth shall ap})ear but a very little 
 while. He can teach them the worse than emptiness 
 of sensual gratification, of worldly pleasure ; the vanity 
 of every object which, apart from His love and fear, 
 they can possibly attain or even propose to themselves ; 
 and He can and will do all this without abating their 
 happiness, without paralyzing their energies, without 
 chilhng, in any wise, that generous warmth of hope, 
 that honourable desire to live to some good purpose, to 
 some worthy end, whicli give to youth its chief grace, 
 and which we cannot discourage or disparage without 
 contemning the workmanship of God. Our Father in 
 
 I 
 
7 
 
 SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 26s 
 
 heaven does not, by tho teaching of His good Spirit, 
 eradicate this liope, this desire ; much ratlier does He 
 elevate and confirm them, by presenting to them their 
 only adequate object, and by assuring us that if we will 
 seek His gracious help, we shall not fail to attain it. 
 The world may tell us of rewards which it has to 
 bestow, of prizes which are ready for the grasp of 
 genius, of courage, of persevering exertion; but we 
 cannot read the history of the past, we cannot look on 
 life around us, without learning how feajful is the risk 
 of disappointment, how often, too, the prize, when 
 grasped, is worthless to him who has secured it. 
 
 But tliere is no disappointmen*- for tliose who 
 consent to serve God. He crowns, in every path of 
 life. His faithful servants, whether the world crown 
 them or no; and the crown which He bestows shall, 
 unlike the perishable honours of the eai-^^h, never fade 
 away. If, however, w^e would serve God, we must 
 pray Him to make us, and to keep us, of a sound mind ; 
 to teach us the very hard lesson of believing and 
 realizing what we really are, and of living from day 
 to day in that belief; using the world, not using it up ; 
 enjoying life, yet not idolizing enjoyment ; seeking 
 diligently some worthy end, yet not as self-pleasers, 
 but in loving and reverent subjection to Himself; 
 doing diligently our work in this world, yet witl\ a 
 constant reference to the world to come ; remembering 
 the end of all things, and learning to think of that 
 
 I 
 
266 
 
 SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 p; 
 
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 in 
 
 *# if 
 
 ill 
 
 end not with terror, but with humljle and trustful 
 expectation. 
 
 H(jw happy are they who, by God's grace, early 
 attain to this sobriety ; who learn in youth to ninnber 
 their days, and realize i.ow short a time the longest 
 life on earth must be ; who learn to co imt their years 
 by decades, and perceive how very soon they must 
 glide away; and thus begin truly to live when life is 
 beginning, not dreaming on till they awake to discover 
 that for all enduring purposes — for all those great 
 ends for wdiich God gave them life — life has been 
 thrown away. 
 
 They are on a voyage, and they are steadily keep- 
 ing their course towards their appointed haven; not 
 idly hovering around pleasant shores, or changing 
 their direction in order that they may drive before 
 every shifting wind, till they find that " sailing is 
 now dangerous," and that the hope of reaching the 
 haven in sccui-ity and peace is sadly darkened. They 
 are on a journey, and the morning finds them address- 
 ing themselves to their task; they are not lavishing 
 their strength and buoyancy of spirits in thoughtless 
 deviations from their prescribed road ; they are not 
 surrendering themselves to aimless indolence ; and so 
 they will not, in the noontide heat, begin to tread, 
 wearied and disheartened, the path which should have 
 been trodden in the freshness of morning ; or, sadder 
 yet, when the shades of evening are falling, comm-ence, 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 267 
 
 with shame and sorrow, a journey which the coming 
 darkness must make gloomy and difficult indeed, if 
 it do not utterly preclude the possibility of accom- 
 plishing it. 
 
 But it may be asked, " Is this really the truth for 
 us all ? Does a sober mind oblige us thus to conclude ? 
 Is all around us so unsubstantial, so unreal ? Is 
 man's home, man's life, man's true being, elsewhere 
 than on earth ? " Not only God's Word, but God's 
 providence, gives an answer to this inquiry. We put 
 from us very strangely, and more especially do the 
 young put from them, the thought of death. Yet God 
 brings it home to us at times in a form which we 
 cannot refuse to recognize. He has taught us, as a 
 society, during the course of the past year, the abso- 
 lute necessity of thinking soberly of another life, and 
 of habitual preparation for it. One who came hither 
 when the present academical year began, is not with 
 us now ; he left us for a short recess, and not long 
 after that had elapsed God had taken him to Himself. 
 We have seen another compelled, by grievous sickness, 
 to break off a course of study which had nearly 
 reached its close, and to return to the care of his own 
 family in a distant home. 
 
 We cannot look without deep regret, without 
 lively sympathy, on visitations such as these ; it is 
 very saddening to see youthful hopes thus frustrated, 
 youthful exertions thus made of no effect. 
 
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 268 
 
 SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 i I: 
 
 Let us, however, remember that, if these hopes 
 were cherished, these exertions made, in a Christian 
 spirit ; if they were subordinated to the one great hope 
 of the gospel — to the one great effort to do the will of 
 God — then they are not simply disappointed. God has 
 far better things in store for those who love and serve 
 Him, than anything which can be sought or desired 
 here. God's dispensations, however painful they may 
 be, do but call those who faithfully and patiently 
 endure them, to something far higher than any earthly 
 hopes — far brighter than any expectations for this 
 life — which His wisdom sees fit to overcloud. 
 
 And let us lay to heart a lesson, which may greatly 
 tend to abate the perplexity in wliich these visitations 
 involve us — the lesson which the apostle himself else- 
 where teaches us, that " no man liveth to himself, and 
 no man dieth to himself" We live for others — this 
 we can probably more readily apprehend ; but we also 
 die for others. There are grave lessons to be taught 
 by early and by sudden death ; every circumstance 
 wliich adds to the painfulness of the stroke, may, in 
 God's good providence, add also to the deep and 
 wholesome instruction which it conveys. And thus 
 we may learn to look upon these mournful events, not 
 as the deplorable results of some blind chance, of 
 some malignant destiny ; but, much rather, as the 
 beneficent, though awful, discipline of an Almighty 
 and Omniscient God — a discipline whereby He 
 
 
! 
 
 SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 269 
 
 challenges, in a peculiar manner, the reverent atten- 
 tion of His creatures ; calling upon us to *" awake to 
 righteousness, and sin not," to make a sober estimate 
 of a life which we are thus taught to know to be most 
 brief, most uncertain ; warning us to cherish every 
 desire and purpose which our hope for the departed 
 would commend to us, to abhor every form of evil 
 which his remembrance and our hope for him would 
 rebuke ; that so his early death may, through God's 
 grace, contribute to the saving of our own true life, 
 and that it may be known hereafter that the stroke 
 by which he was taken away did not fall in vain. 
 
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 SERMON XX. 
 
 Preached at S. Stephen's, Toronto, at an Ordi- 
 nation HELD BY THE BiSHOP OF TORONTO, 
 
 October 9, 1870. 
 
 S, John xx. 21-23. — ** Then said Jesus to tlieu again, Peace 
 be unto you : as My Father hath sent Me, even so send 1 
 you. And when He had said this, He breathed on them, 
 and saith unto them, Receive ye the Holy Ghost : whose 
 soever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them ; and 
 whose soever sins ye retain, they are retained." 
 
 It will be obvious to every one who examines our 
 service for the ordering of priests, that our Church 
 rejTfards the words of the text as containin^j the cliarter 
 of the Christian ministry — the authority under which 
 " the ministers of Christ, the stewards of the mysteries 
 of God," are to act until the end of the Avorld. This 
 fact will not be disputed by those who deny the 
 Church's claim thus to regard the words of our Blessed 
 Lord — who would restrict the application of the 
 w^ords to those whom He im.mcdiately addressed, and 
 would leave to Christians, in these later time;?, no rule, 
 no guidance, no support, no consolation, from the 
 
 
THE MINISTERIAL COMMISSIOy. 
 
 271 
 
 wondrous commission which the risen Lord cjave to 
 the apostles \vh<jiii He had chosen, on His first meet- 
 ing witli them after His ])assiDn. Time will not allow 
 me to do more than to touch very briefly on the un- 
 happy theory whicii would leave us, as Christian men, 
 no teachers save those wlio bear witness to themselves 
 that they are God's messengers, or those who have 
 been constituted to minister in holy things by no 
 higher authority than human will. It must suflice to 
 say, that only tliey who have an hypothesis to serve, 
 can possibly be content with the interpretation which 
 this hypothesis comi)els them to put on many state- 
 ments of Holy Writ, and on the words of our Lord 
 Himself. 
 
 The Evangelist S. Matthew, who gives no account 
 of that first meeting at which the words of the text 
 were uttered, does, however, report to us other words, 
 which plainly indicate that the powers conferred on 
 the apostles, and the promises vouchsafed to them, 
 were, with the exception of the miraculous or extra- 
 ordinary gifts of the Spirit, extended, iixv beyond their 
 own personal service, to others, who, in future days, 
 should inherit the ordinary duties and prerogatives 
 of their ofhce as ambassadors of Christ. "Lo, I am 
 wich you alway, even unto the end of the world." Are 
 we wrong in supposing that this is a promise made to 
 a ministry which was to continue to the end ? Can 
 they be right who, leaving the plain meaning of the 
 
272 
 
 THE MIXISTERIAL COMMISSION. 
 
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 words, woulil {ittempt to limit tlu'ir a])i)lictition to tho 
 eleven, by uiicler.Htandinjjj the ])roinise to lie made, not 
 in respect of* their /x't'sons, but of their vi'UinfjH; 
 and this, when six at least of those eleven have left 
 no wiitings at all ? We must believe, if we would 
 read Holy 8cri))ture firight, that there is a work con- 
 tinually going on, in and on l)ehalf of the Christian 
 Church, no less divine than that of which the text 
 speaks. We are not honouring, but dishonouring, our 
 great Master, if we permit ourselves to Vjelieve that 
 He is less truly with us now than He was with tlie 
 eleven on the resurrecti(jn day, or that He lias less 
 fully provided, than He did in the instance of His first 
 messengers and apostles, for the due authorization of 
 those who are now sent forth, in His name, to ad- 
 minister His sacraments and to teach His AVord. 
 
 It is not without a cause that we recite, in our 
 Ordination Service, the ancient hymn " Veni, Creator 
 Spiritus." This is no mere form, no mere expression 
 of religious sentiment ; it is a solemn act of faith. For, 
 without the presence of that Blessed and Holy Spirit 
 whom we thus adventure to invoke, the great work to 
 which men are ordained must remain undone. No 
 man can make another a minister of Christ. Ordi- 
 nation is a divine act, requiring a Divine Agent. S. 
 Paul did not say to the elders of Ephesus, when he 
 had convoked them at Miletus, " Take heed to all the 
 flock, over the which / have made you overseers," but 
 
THE MINISTERIAL COMMISSION. 
 
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 when he 
 to all the 
 eers," but 
 
 "over wliiel) the Holy Ghost hath ina<le you overseers;" 
 and he said this, not heeause they had intruded tliein- 
 sclves into the ministry on the plea that God liad 
 sent them, nor hecausc they had been called by the 
 people to assume the ehlership over them ; hut because 
 he himself h.ad, in that (>hureh, as in every otber 
 which he founded, ordained elders, and heeause he 
 did not doubt, but earnestly believed, tliat He who 
 had called him to the apostleship was ever with him in 
 his apostolic work, that the Spirit of Christ was ever 
 ready to set His divine seal to the ministerial acts 
 of the servant of Christ, and, by the laying on of his 
 hands, to give the Holy Ghost. 
 
 The great writers of our own Church teach us to 
 regard ordination in accordance with the principles 
 here laid down. Bishop Bilson, in his work on " The 
 Perpetual Government of Christ's Church" (p. IGO), 
 says, "To create ministers by imposing hands, is to 
 give them not only power and leave to preach the 
 Word and dispense the sacraments, but also the grace 
 of the Holy Spirit, to make them able to execute 
 both parts of their function." In eluci<lation of these 
 words, it must be observed that the grace of the Holy 
 Spirit no man can, of himself, give ; he may, how- 
 ever, according to the laws of (yhrist's kingdom, be- 
 come instrumentally the cause of its being bestowed ; 
 and the inspired history of the first days of that 
 kingdom, assures us that it has pleased our Lord to 
 
 T 
 
274 
 
 THE MINISTERIAL COMMISSION. 
 
 
 
 
 f f': i ' 
 
 llMliii 
 
 convoy tlio h(;avenly ;:;if't thron^'li tlio liuman minis- 
 tration of th(; clilof officers of His (.Mjurcli. 
 
 Aijain, Hooker ("Keel. Pol.," bk. v. cli. 77, § '^) says, 
 " When we take ordination, we receive the presence 
 of the Holy (jhost. . . . Whether we preach, pray, 
 baptize, coiiimunieate, condemn, j^'ive absolution, or 
 whatsoever', as disposers of Goil's mysteries, our words, 
 judfifments, acts, and deeds are not ours, but the Holy 
 Ghost's." Ai^ain, Jiishop Pears(m (" Exp. of the Creed," 
 Article 8) says, " It is the office of the Holy Ghost to 
 sanctify and set ai)art persons for the duty of the 
 ministry, ordaining them to intercede between God 
 and His people, to send up prayers to God for them, 
 to bless them in the name of God, to teach the 
 doctrine of the gospel, ro administer the sacraments 
 instituted by Christ, to perform all things necessary 
 ' for the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the 
 ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ.' " 
 
 It can scarcely be doubted that many objections to 
 the language of our Ordination Service will wholly 
 disappear, when we learn thus to refer the act of 
 ordination to a Divine Agent, and when we remember 
 that our Church has adopted the language of her 
 ordinal under the solemn persuasion that it is her 
 exalted Redeemer who, by His Spirit, gives evermore 
 pastors and teachers to His flock. Were the act of 
 ordination a work merely human, nothing could 
 exceed the arrogant presumption of one who should 
 
 A\ f;t?it 
 
THE MINlSriiRIAl. COMMISSIOX. 
 
 275 
 
 iiuis- 
 
 says. 
 isonce 
 |)niy, 
 m, or 
 kvordrt, 
 
 I Holy 
 ^reed," 
 lost to 
 of the 
 ill God 
 • them, 
 
 ,cl\ the 
 
 1 
 aments 
 
 cessary 
 
 of the 
 
 tions to 
 wholly 
 act of 
 naember 
 of her 
 is her 
 vermore 
 act of 
 could 
 should 
 
 venture, as an indvpcndciit Iniinan n^'tMit, to appro- 
 priate to hiinsi'lf the powur.s clainiod, ami to <,^ivo 
 utterance; to the lan«nia<;c (.'Uinlovrd in our ordinal. 
 
 But it is soniutliinLj very dillV'rt'nt indeed for tlie 
 connnissioncil servant of Christ, doiui^ his ^Mi-at 
 Master's bidding', faithfully to assert tlie eoniniission 
 which he has received, and explicitly to avow his 
 trust in that divine co-operation, which, as he is 
 assured, attends his human nunistration. 
 
 The use of the language of Holy Scrii)ture — the 
 adoption of our Blessed Lord's own solemn words — will 
 in this view, so far from hein<x an offence, serve to convey 
 a most instructive lesson; it will raise the thoughts of 
 the recipient of the sacred ordinance, and of those who 
 witness its adnnnistration, from the seen to the un- 
 seen, from the earthen vessel to the heavenly treasui'e, 
 from the feebleness of man to the gracious power 
 of God. 
 
 There may, however, be other doubts and difficulties 
 arising; from tlie lauixuaije of our service which will 
 not be wholly excluded by the simple recognition of 
 a divine presence and agency in the work of ordi- 
 nation ; and, for the purpose of dealing with these 
 doubts and difficulties, it may be desirable to review 
 in their order the several clauses of the text. 
 
 And, first of all, our Blessed Lord is recorded to 
 have said, " As My Father hath sent Me, even so send 
 I you." It has been well observed, by ancient inter- 
 
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 276 
 
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 pruters of Holy Scripture, that we may not too rigidly 
 })ress the comparison between (Christ's own mission 
 by the .Father and the mission of the apostles by 
 Himself; otherwise, as these writers have said, there 
 w(Mild be no distinction of dignity or power between 
 the apostles and Christ. The very fact that our 
 Blessed Lord claims absolute authority to send, marks 
 the vast interval between the Great Messenger of the 
 Covenant and all inferior messengers ; and, again, 
 there is much to be learned from the circumstance 
 that our Lord does not say, " as My Father sent," but 
 " as My Father Itath sent Me." Kis own great mission 
 was not at an end when He commissioned others; He 
 still continued to be the Apostle as well as the High 
 Priest of our confession. Though He was about to 
 withdraw His bodily presence. He had. promised not 
 to leave His disciples comfortless or oiphaned ; He 
 had promised to come to them again. And it is His 
 continuous mission, in the power and spiritual pre- 
 sence of the "other Comforter," abiding with the 
 Church for ever, and perpetuating the blessed work 
 of the earthly ministry of the Son as the great 
 Prophet and Teacher of the Church — it is this con- 
 tinuous mission of Him whom the Father hath sent, 
 which gathers up within itself and subordinates to 
 itself every other mission, and gives to the faithful 
 labours of all the appointed servants of Christ — 
 apostles, evangelists, pastors and teachers — that divine 
 
THE MINISTERIAL COMMISSION. 
 
 ^77 
 
 igully 
 
 lission 
 
 Les by 
 
 , there 
 
 )tween 
 
 it our 
 
 marks 
 
 of the 
 again, 
 
 iistance 
 
 at," but 
 
 mission 
 
 3rs; He 
 
 le High 
 
 bout to 
 
 sed not 
 
 ed; He 
 is His 
 
 iial pre- 
 ith the 
 3d work 
 le great 
 lis con- 
 xth sent, 
 nates to 
 faithful 
 Christ — 
 at divine 
 
 effect, that spiritual energy, without whieli they 
 would be absolutely fruitless. 
 
 So there is, undoubtedly, a sense in which Christ 
 did not send His apostles even as the Father hatli 
 sent Him ; not with the like plenitude of power 
 which pertains to Him who is God as well as man — 
 not with the same high prerogative which He holds, 
 in respect of His human nature, as the Head of the 
 body, the Church, from v/hom every member of that 
 Church derives its spiritual life and derives its 
 capacity of action. But still, with this infinite dis- 
 parity, there is a likeness between the mission of the 
 Lord and the mission of His servants — a likeness 
 which He graciously deigns not only to recognize 
 but to affirm ; and wherein docs this likeness c(msist, 
 except in carrying out, so far as man can do it, the 
 blessed work which the Redeemer began in His own 
 personal ministry upon earth, and is still fulfilling 
 both on earth and in heaven ? 
 
 What is it but to tep/^h, exhort, and comfort in His 
 name, to administer His holy sacraments, to bless in 
 His name, to declare His sentence of pardon, to 
 separate from the communion of His Chrrch those 
 who have already separated themselves from Hiui by 
 deadlv sin ; to brini^ the unseen Teacher, tlie unseen 
 King, the unseen Priest, evermore before the e}(.'s of 
 men, and to i-emind them, when sad occasion aiist s, 
 by the exercise of wLolesome di; cipline, of Him wiio 
 shall come to be their tutli^e ? 
 
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 THE MINISTERIAL COMMISSION. 
 
 
 
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 But we further read, " And when He had spid this, 
 He breathed on them, and saith untc them. Receive 
 ye the Holy Ghost." We know that " the promise 
 of the Fatlier," the gift of the Holy Ghost, was 
 bestowed on the day of Pentecost, after our Lord's 
 ascension ; and we may wondtr that our Lord should 
 apparently be said to have now communicated that 
 for which He afterwai'ds instructed His apostles to 
 wait, in prayer and silent expectation. It would be 
 strange, indeed, if this were so. But we have been 
 taught to distinguish between the two gift« : to re- 
 cognize in the one an authoritative commission to 
 undertake the apostolic office, in the other the com- 
 munication of miraculous endowments and, probably, 
 of moral and spiritual gifts, wdiich might ensure its 
 effectual discharijje. The sacred words leave us no 
 room to doubt that a wondrous gift was at tliis 
 moment communicated, and tliat that gift was au- 
 thority to exercise the several offices of the Christian 
 ministry. After what has been already said of the 
 necessity of divine power for effecting the act of 
 ordination, it Avill not be requisite to dwell long on 
 these words, pregnant as the clause nevertheless is 
 with solemn and most impressive teaching. Our 
 Blessed Lord " breathed " on the apostles ; but He who 
 breathed was God as well as man, and with that 
 h\iman breath went forth a divine and spiritual 
 energy. Gifts of the Holy Ghost were imparted and 
 
THE MINISTERIAL COMMISSION. 
 
 279 
 
 (1 this, 
 deceive 
 romise 
 t, was 
 Lord's 
 should 
 d that 
 ties to 
 •uld be 
 e been 
 to re- 
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 e com- 
 obably, 
 jure its 
 us no 
 at this 
 v^as au- 
 iristian 
 of the 
 act of 
 onij on 
 eless is 
 Our 
 le who 
 ;h that 
 pi ritual 
 ted and 
 
 received when Christ thus breathed on the disciples. 
 And now Christ's servant ventures to use the Lord's 
 own words — to say, as He did, " Receive the Holy 
 Ghost." And why ? Because he is assured that his 
 Lord has commissioned him to take his part in a 
 sacred work — which yet can never be his alone, but 
 ever presupposes a divine power, a Divine Agent, 
 working together with that human weakness, whose 
 only strength is faith. Man cannot constitute his 
 fellow-man a minister of Christ; this must be dune 
 by the power of the Holy Ghost. And it is because 
 the servant of Christ knows well the laws of his 
 Lord's kingdom — knows the practice of the a})0stles 
 themselves, and their instructions to their successors 
 in their office — that he recognizes, in following that 
 practice, in obeying those instructions, the unseen 
 power Avhich works with him in the discharge of his 
 holy functions ; and, being well assured that no 
 ordination can be valid except by virtue of the com- 
 munication of the grace of the Spirit of God, he 
 adopts, for the instruction of the Church, and for 
 the edification of the candidate for the priesthood, the 
 very words which Christ Himself uttered in the be- 
 ginning of the gospel, when He gave their conmiission 
 to His apostles. 
 
 But, observe again, he does not say, " Receive from 
 me," as if ha had the power absolutely to bestow the 
 gift of God. Tlie words may almost be regarded as 
 
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 a prayer; or, if they rise above this, what do they 
 imply, but that, all care and diligence having been 
 previously used in the choice of those who are to be 
 admitted to the priesthood, the faithful and prudent 
 servant doubts not his Heavenly Master's gracious 
 concurrence in his official act, and openly confesses 
 that the gift bestowed is one which not earth, but 
 heaven, has power to communicate ? 
 
 Our Lord, we read, then added the mysterious 
 words, " Whose soever sins ye remit, they are remitted 
 unto them ; and whose soever sins ye retain, they are 
 retained." These words, again, are adopted in our 
 Ordination Service, in like manner with the solemn 
 words which our Lord had previously uttered. If we 
 can, then, satisfy ourselves of the meaning of the 
 words as they were spoken in the first instance by 
 our LorH, of the intent with which He uttered them, 
 we shall best understand their meaning as the Church 
 uses them still, and shall satisfy ourselves most fully, 
 not only of the lawfulness, but of the absolute fitness 
 and propriety of her thus repeating, to the end of 
 time, the words which were spoken in the beginning, 
 when that ministry was first instituted which it is 
 her duty to perpetuate. Men are stumbled at the 
 dark sayings of Holy Scri}>ture, and we often find 
 that, being thus stumbled, they resolve to think and 
 speak and act as if no such words as those which 
 perplex or ofiend them were to be found on the patJ^es 
 
 ti 
 
THE MINISTERIAL COMMISSION. 
 
 281 
 
 ( they 
 been 
 \ to be 
 •udent 
 acious 
 [ifesses 
 bh, but 
 
 terioua 
 iinitted 
 ley are 
 in our 
 solemn 
 If we 
 of the 
 nee by 
 them, 
 Church 
 t fully, 
 fitncsH 
 end of 
 ;inning, 
 ;h it is 
 at the 
 en find 
 nk and 
 which 
 e pages 
 
 of Holy Writ. But, brethren, we must not consent 
 thus to deal with any words of Him who is the 
 Truth. However obscure or unwelcome His words 
 may api)ear to our ignorance or to our pride, let us 
 consent diligently and humbly to inquire what their 
 meaning is, and let us pray Him who spake them to 
 give us increase of grace, to hear meekly His Word, 
 and to receive it with pure affection. 
 
 What, then, do these words mean? They must 
 have a meaning of solemn import, of great practical 
 importance. Some would restrict their application 
 to those to whom they were immediately addressed. 
 But against this interpretation there lies an objection, 
 whicli, if we hold the belief of a continued ministry 
 of divine appointment in the Church, we must regard 
 as fatal ; for this restriction, if pressed to its legitimate 
 consequences, involves another, namel}', the restriction 
 of a divine commission, as ministers of Christ, to 
 those to whom our Lord then spoke, with tlie sole 
 exception of such other persons as subsequently re- 
 ceived an extraordinary and miraculous call to the 
 minisay. And, again, what cause can ])e assigned 
 why this ministry of absolution should have been 
 continued in the Church during the apostles' lives and 
 <luring their lives only ? Were they specially, not 
 to say exclusively, qualified to exercise it ? At times, 
 indeed, they could read men's hearts, as S. Peter read 
 those of Ananias and Sapphira, or deliver unto Satan 
 
imm 
 
 282 
 
 T//E MINISTERIAL COMMISSION. 
 
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 by the infliction of bodily judgments, as S. Paul smote 
 Ely mas with blindness. Bat ordinarily, as their 
 Epistles amply testify, they were liable to be deceived 
 in their converts, even as other good men might be. 
 No unerring estimate of human character enabled 
 them, more than others, to exercise their power of 
 remitting and retaining sins absolutely and infallibly. 
 And even if this had been the case, can we conceive 
 of anything more disheartening to a Christian man, 
 or to the Christian body as a whole, tlian the con- 
 viction that this divinely imparted power was at 
 length dying out — that with the last of the apostles 
 it would utterly disappear ? How very hard would it 
 have been to understand why such a gift should have 
 been confided only for a time unto men ; why such a 
 seal should have been set, only for a brief season, on 
 the external ministrations of Christ's Cliurch ! But, 
 on the other hand, how strongly does the existence 
 of such a gift permanently in the Church commend 
 itself both to our judgment and to our affections ! 
 
 There is One, indeed, who is " exalted at the 
 right hand of God, a Prince and a Saviour, to give 
 repentance unto Israel, and forgiveness of sins." In 
 Him alone resides the ultimate and absolute power. 
 None can thus " forgive sins but God only ; " and 
 Christ thus, because He is God as well as man. But 
 did He not Himself, in the days of His flesh, suggest 
 to us a subordinate sense in which forgiveness or 
 
TirE MI.WISTF.RIAL COM.VISS/OJV. 
 
 283 
 
 1 smote 
 •? their 
 ieceived 
 ght be. 
 enabled 
 3wer of 
 fallibly. 
 !onccive 
 m man, 
 lie con- 
 Avas at 
 apostles 
 ivould it 
 lid have 
 y such a 
 ason, on 
 I ! But, 
 
 xistenee 
 onmiend 
 tis ! 
 at the 
 to give 
 ns." In 
 3 power. 
 f ; " and 
 m. But 
 , suggest 
 eness or 
 
 remission might be conveyed ? Did He not say to 
 tlie sick of the palsy, " Son, thy sins be forgiven 
 thee"? And when they that stood by said, "This 
 man blasphemeth : who can forgive sins but God 
 only ?" we do not read that our Lord rebuked them 
 by asserting His divinity, but that Ho said, "That yo 
 may know that the Son of man hatli power upon 
 earth to forgive sins." He claims as man power ujxm 
 earfh to do, in some sense, that which God in an 
 absolute sense can alone do in heaven. Nor will it 
 suffice to reply that our Lord, being God, and because 
 He was God, claimed this power. Ho claimed it while 
 He veiled His Godhead. He claimed it before those 
 who knew not tliat He was God. He claimed it, we 
 may venture to say, irrespectively of His Deity ; and 
 we read immediately afterwards that " the multitudes 
 marvelled and glorified God, who had given such 
 power unto men. To perform a miracle,^ to utter a 
 prophecy, is ultimately a divine act ; but God may 
 enable a human being to do the one or the other in 
 His name. To forgive sins is ultimately a divine act ; 
 but God may empower a human being to remit sins 
 in His name. 
 
 And how, it may be asked, do the ministers of 
 Christ exercise this power ? I will mention some 
 particulars, in Avhich it has been maintained by ap- 
 proved writers of our own communion that this power 
 is exercised. 
 

 284 
 
 t//js ministerial commissiox. 
 
 I'i i 
 
 \\ 
 
 ' \ 
 
 I,; 
 
 lli'f 
 if 
 
 
 Firstly, in the administration of the sacrament of 
 Holy Baptism. We are tauglit to confess our belief in 
 " one baptism for the remission of sins." If this be 
 the gracious result of baptism, does not the minister of 
 Christ remit sins in baptism ? He, indeed, who said, 
 " Go, teach [make disciples of] all nations, baptizing 
 them," is the supreme Author of the remission ; but 
 His servant on earth, who does His bidding, is minis- 
 terially and subordinately the agent of the remission. 
 
 Secondly, by the administration of the sacrament 
 of the Lord's Supper. "This is My blood, which is 
 shed for you, and for many, for the remission of sins." 
 Few will doubt that forgiveness of sins is a benefit 
 resulting from a faithful participation of the supper of 
 the Lord. We receive that benefit fr<mi the grace of 
 the Kedeemer, but do we not also receive it through 
 the ministry of His servant upon earth ? 
 
 Thirdly, by the offering of i)rayer, which passes 
 insensibly into benediction. Considered as prayer, it 
 is the word of the minister, going up on our behalf 
 from earth to lieaven ; considered as benediction, it is 
 the word of Christ coming down to us, through His 
 minister, from heaven to earth. 
 
 Fourthly, it is exercised by preaching the word of 
 reconciliation. That which excites to penitence, tends 
 also to remission; and here the ministerial agency, 
 though less d irect, is not less important ; here the 
 faithful servant is assuredly treading closely in the 
 
THE mXlSTER/.U. CO.V.WSS/OM 
 
 285 
 
 ment of 
 relief in 
 
 this be 
 lister of 
 lio said, 
 ^ptizing 
 on ; but 
 ^ minis- 
 ission. 
 cramcnt 
 v^hicli is 
 01 sins. 
 
 benefit 
 Lil)per of 
 grace of 
 tln-ough 
 
 li passes 
 rayer, it 
 r behalf 
 Lon, it is 
 ugh His 
 
 word of 
 ce, tends 
 
 agency, 
 iiere the 
 i in the 
 
 steps of Him wlio came " to proclaim li})erty to the 
 captives, tlie opening of the prison to them that are 
 bound." 
 
 Fifthly, tliis power is exercised by direct absolu- 
 tion, whether public or private, whetlier general or 
 particular; whether reacliing prepared hearts in the 
 congregation, or strengthening the individual sufferer 
 against the assaults of the enemy, in the dark hour of 
 l)hysical exhaustion or agony, or of mental weakness 
 and despondency. Did the Blespcd Redeemer, when 
 on earth, say to the trembling, unquiet heart, " Be not 
 afraid, only believe ; " and may not His servant say the 
 same, with all the cogent emphasis which the extremity 
 of his needs demands, to him who bitterly repents him 
 of his sin, and heartily believes that "Christ Jesus 
 came into the world to save sinners," and yet is 
 beguiled by the evil one to doubt or to deny that 
 He who willeth all men to be saved, wills his own 
 salvation ? 
 
 It will be observed that, in the above particulars, 
 the absolving power of the Christian minister is made 
 to extend to widely differing departments of his service; 
 and there is, I think, good reason to believe that this 
 wondrous power was designed by the Great Mediator 
 to permeate the whole ministerial work, and to enrich 
 with its blessed efficacy every portion of the faitliful 
 labour of His servants. It is well worthy of observa- 
 tion, that as our Blessed Lord, in the solemn form 
 
Hi 
 
 r^-.i^^-^^zsxtsesSi 
 
 i^i.-i:^*?. 
 
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 286 
 
 T//E MIXISTERIAL COMMISSION. 
 
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 i:: 
 
 wlu'reby Ho commissioned His apostU's, declaivs only 
 one ^mnd (lUJilitication for the ofHce of tlie C'liristian 
 ministry, wvn the receiving of tlie Holy Clliost; so 
 does He also declare one grand result only which was 
 to follow from the legitimate exercise of that ministry, 
 even the remitting and the retaining of sins. 
 
 There are some who would tell us that the of lice of 
 the Christian minister is purt^ly }>astoral ; there are 
 others who dwell too exclusively on its sacerdotal 
 character. Let us be careful to shun both these 
 extremes. They will both be avoidi-d if we duly re- 
 member the wondrous words, " As ^ly Father hath 
 sent Me, even so send I you." The Christian minister 
 is, after his measure, to reflect in his mission the 
 glorious mission of his Lord. He whom the Father 
 hath sent, who is to the end of time the IMessenger of 
 the New Covenant, reveals His hidden working tli^ )ugh 
 the agency of man, teaches by human voice, warns by 
 human reproof, comforts by human sympathy and 
 gentleness, blesses by human utterance, washes from 
 sin by water poured by human hands and by the word 
 spoken by man, feeds, by human ministration, with 
 the spiritual food of His own most precious Body and 
 Blood, and tells us again and again by human lips, 
 when we are burdened by a sense of infirmity and 
 soiled b}'- contact with a naughty world, that " God 
 pardoneth and absolve th all them that truly repent, 
 and unfeignedly believe His holy gospel." 
 
THE MtMSTHKIAL COMitlSSlOS. 
 
 -^87 
 
 •OS only 
 liristian 
 lost; so 
 ich was 
 liuistiy, 
 
 oiHco of 
 lore are 
 cerdijtal 
 li these 
 duly re- 
 ler liatli 
 minister 
 don the 
 5 Father 
 longer of 
 th^ )ugh 
 varns by 
 thy and 
 lies from 
 the word 
 on, with 
 5ody and 
 nan lips, 
 nity and 
 lat "God 
 y repent, 
 
 Oh, let us nevMM- think, hrotliren, that hecause tlioro 
 is One, and One only, who is an Higlj Priest over tlio 
 house of (Jo.l, there eannot ho— there are not— ujx.n 
 eartli tliose who minister in His priesthood, hy whos(; 
 serviee IIo unveils, as it were, His hi.ldon pivsenee in 
 our midst, and makos us conscious of the invisil)io 
 "l)()wers of the world to come," which on every side 
 encompass us. 
 
 And you, my brethren, who are this day to ho 
 called to the service of that mighty Lord, tinnk mucli 
 of Him who is your Great Master, and know that, if 
 you earnestly desire that the flock committed to your 
 care may rightly apprehend their character and <luties 
 as members of the body of Christ, you will most surely 
 promote this blessed end hy a lively recognition of 
 your own character as ministers of (.^hrist, to whose 
 conscience and to whose heart He is ever whispering 
 by His Spirit, " As My Father hath sent Me, even so 
 send I you." Ponder, then, in the depth of your hearts 
 the wondrous import of His mission ; and, in its divine 
 light, learn to read alike the peril and the glory of your 
 own. 
 
9 
 
 r^ I 
 
 
 ill 
 
 u mm 
 
 SERMON XXI. 
 
 Preached at the Church of the Ascension, 
 Toronto, on Tuesday, June 8, 1880, before the 
 Synod of the Diocese of Toronto. 
 
 1 Timothy vi. 20. — " Keep that wliioli is committed to thy 
 
 trust." 
 
 The inquiry must often present itself to every thought- 
 ful mind, " How shall I look back, in another life, on 
 the life which I am passing here ? How shall I read, 
 in the light of that life, the history of God's world 
 and of Christ's Church ? What aspect will the events 
 which are now taking place, the scenes by which I 
 am now surrounded, then present ? " 
 
 Nor will the mind, which thoughtfully prosecutes 
 this inquiry, fail to arrive at the conclusion that the 
 past must then bo contemplated under conditions 
 differing very widely from those under which we 
 now look on the present ; that, when we survey the 
 course of this world in that higher, purer light, we 
 must be alike astonished and humbled by a sense 
 
THE GUARD IXC OF THE DEPOSIT. 
 
 289 
 
 of (nir striin'^''^Iy iinpiM-fcet apprchonsion of itn true 
 impfU't, in tliis o'lr pi-osont <larkii(;sH. 
 
 T am not spcjiklnijf of the terril)le surpriso and 
 shame wliieh must await those wlio liav<^ here hdfed 
 the lii^'ht aii<l irfascdl to seek the knovvUuli^e of God's 
 truth ; ])ut, ratlicr, of tlie astonishment whicli even 
 tlie loviuLf, faitliful servant of (jlod cannot fail to feel 
 when the liijlit of tlie worhl to come shall break upon 
 him. We may well believe that this surprise will be, 
 at least to a gieat extent, inevitable, bein^^, as it is, a 
 necessary result of our present mortal weakness ; and 
 the anticipation of it ma}^ serve to teach us the whole- 
 some lesson, that we can never, in our i)rcscnt state, 
 form an acUnpiate conce})tion of those great things per- 
 taininij to the kinjjjdom of God in the midst of which 
 we move, of those " powers of the world to come " which 
 are on every side " about our path." There are, beyond 
 all (piestion, those wliose eyes are earnestly watching 
 for the morning, who must yet fail to realize what that 
 morning shall disclose, not only of the future but of the 
 past. 
 
 We may compare their present condition to that 
 of a traveller, who, in the dimness of twilight, arrives 
 for the first time in some scene of surpassing grandeur 
 and beauty ; he may, indeed, even then, trace the dim 
 outline of the mountains; he may, even then, be 
 conscious, by reflected lights, that he is treading on 
 the margin of some mighty water ; but till the day 
 
 U 
 
m I" 
 
 ih ; 
 I: ^ 
 
 m fr 
 
 290 
 
 7W^ GUARDING OF THE DEPOSIT. 
 
 dawns, and the sun bathes the landscape in its beams, 
 he must remain ignorant, alike of tlie manifold love- 
 liness of the details, and of the sublimity and glory of 
 the whole. 
 
 It is only in the light of the heavenly morning 
 that man can be fully enabled to read aright those 
 wondrous works and purposes of God, on wliich he 
 now looks " through a glass darkly." So far, then, as 
 this ignorance is inevitable, we must meekly acquiesce 
 in it, as a wise appointment of God ; but, on the other 
 hand, we must bear in mind that there are limits, 
 within which this ignorance is not inevitable ; that we 
 may, by a right use of our opportunities, by a due 
 exercise of our powers, and, most of all, by a solicitous 
 cultivation of our higher and purer atfections, do very 
 much to remove the feebleness and dimness of our 
 apprehension of those sacred objects, which should be 
 to us, as Christian men, so dear. 
 
 Thoughts such as these may well be present to 
 our minds, as we attempt to apprehend, in its applica- 
 tion to ourselves, the import of S. Paul's injunction, 
 given in the text, to liis beloved son Timothy, " Guard 
 the deposit entrus+'^d to thee ; " an injunction repeated 
 near the beginning of his second Epistle, "Guard, 
 through the Holy Spirit which dwelleth in us, the 
 goodly [or precious] deposit." 
 
 ^Mtat the deposit was we may not doubt. It was 
 the Christian faith, in its entirety and purity ; and 
 
 
i beams, 
 >ld love- 
 glory of 
 
 morning 
 lit those 
 'liich he 
 then, as 
 Lcquiesee 
 ;he other 
 e limits, 
 , that we 
 )y a due 
 solicitous 
 , do very 
 iS of our 
 ihould be 
 
 resent to 
 s applica- 
 ij unction, 
 ^, " Guard 
 L repeated 
 " Guard, 
 n us, the 
 
 t. It was 
 rity; and 
 
 T//£ GUARD! XG OF THE DEPOSIT. 29 1 
 
 the contexts, in which the apostle's i-opoatod warning 
 occurs, present to us the occasions wliich even tlien 
 rendered it necessary. "Profane and vain babblings, 
 and oppositions of science, falsely so called," were', 
 even then, unlermining the faith of their authors and 
 of those who listened to thom ; and it was re(iuisite 
 that even one, who had received from the lips of 
 S. Paul himself " the form of sound words," should be 
 exhorted to " hold it fast." 
 
 But to us, Irethren, at this far later stage of the 
 Church's history, the admonition of the apostle comes 
 fraught with many a lesson, to be di-awn from the 
 experience of the past, and also from the peculiar cir- 
 cumstances in which we find ourselves placed, by the 
 good providence of Almighty God, as memberl of the 
 Church of England. The admonition is still the same, 
 but we cannot doubt that he, through wliom the Spirit 
 of God first gave it, would now addr.'ss it to us with 
 a special meaning, and in a tone of pressing ui-gency. 
 
 Tlie deposit which we must guard is, indeed, none 
 other than that which was entrusted to Timothy; but 
 it has come into our hands under peculiar conditions, 
 and with accompanying cii-cumstances, which, if they 
 be duly consi.lered, cannot but appeal most strongly 
 to our understandings and our afi'ections. 
 
 What a wondrous histoiy is the history of the 
 Church of England ! God forbid that I sl.ould speak 
 here a single word dictated by erring fondness for 
 
I 
 
 292 
 
 THE GUARDING OF THE DEPOSIT. 
 
 % I 
 
 \ 
 
 that which is our own, much less by vain boasting of 
 an heritage which we may dream lias been purchased 
 for us by the wisdom or the high resolve of man. The 
 fathers and the cliildren may alike de})lore errors of 
 judgment p.nd infirmities of conduct; but, looking 
 avy^ay from man to God — to His wondrous working, 
 b}'^ means of widely differing human agencies — must we 
 not, indeed, consider, with devout and hund)le admira- 
 tion, the way by which the Lord our God has led us ? 
 At every step we find cause alike for contrite con- 
 fession and for praise. Twice has our Church, as 
 purged from the errors of Romanism, been stricken to 
 the dust ; once by the arm of Rome herself, and again 
 by Puritan fanaticism. 
 
 Twice, through God's grace, has she arisen, in fresh 
 strength and lustre, from her overthrow. And when 
 at length she consented, in some degree, to recognize 
 her duty and her true glory, and to interpret, in the 
 lii^ht of God, the meanino; of Enoland's commercial 
 greatness and marvellously extended empire, what has 
 not God done — what does He not show Himself, from 
 day to day, still ready to do — in giving, through her 
 agency, to His blessed Son, the heathen for His in- 
 heritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for His 
 possession ? 
 
 In His wondrous providence, moreover, there are 
 associated with us in this blessed work those who, no 
 longer connected with us by civil ties, still abide with 
 
THE GUARDING OF THE DEPOSIT. 
 
 293 
 
 iting of 
 fchascd 
 1. The 
 •rors of 
 looking 
 orking, 
 lust we 
 idmira- 
 led us ? 
 ite con- 
 irch, as 
 cken to 
 
 id again 
 
 in fresh 
 id when 
 3C02;nize 
 y, in the 
 iroercial 
 ^rhat has 
 elf, from 
 ugh her 
 His in- 
 i for His 
 
 here ar(3 
 
 who, no 
 
 ide witli 
 
 us in spiritual union, rejoicing with us, with one heart 
 and with one soul, over the mercies both of the past 
 and of the present. Does not, then, tlie past and the 
 present history of our Churcli commend to us the 
 fervent acknowledgment, " Whoso is wise will ponder 
 these things, and tliey shall understand the loving- 
 kindness of the Lord;" "Not unto us, Lord, not 
 unto us, but unto Thy name give the praise, for Thy 
 loving mercy, and for Thy truth's sake " ? Does not 
 our Church's history most powerfully appeal to us to 
 guard with all fidelity the deposit which has been 
 committed to our t-ust, as being, in the providence of 
 God, her members or her ministers ? 
 
 But again, let us observe some features of that 
 Church whicli God has thus strangely preserved, and 
 is so widely extendin'>-. 
 
 The deposit of the faith may be regarded un<ler a 
 more simple or a more complex form. Any Christian 
 man who can recite the Apostles' Creed, may be said 
 to have the deposit of the faith stored in his memory ; 
 but how much more, " pertaining to life and godliness," 
 does he not recpilre, both for the enli'.htcnin*'- of his 
 understanding and for the guidance of his life ? 
 
 Brethren, do we consider as wc ought tlie ])recious 
 form in which the Christian faith has bocii delivered 
 to us, in our Book of Common Prayt-r ? It has been 
 recently affirmed by a distinguished Bresbyterian, in 
 a sermon delivered on the fortieth auiiiversary of his 
 
Tfi": ""'rr"T r^ 
 
 294 
 
 Tim GUARDING OF THE DEPOSIT. 
 
 r-\r ( 
 
 WA 
 
 pastorate, that " the Church, if she would fulfil her 
 mission, must avail herself of the riches Avhich her 
 children durino- all these ares have been <i'atlierini,^ for 
 her," God, then, guided the hearts of those who 
 reformed our Liturgy to recognize this principle, and 
 to appropriate, with all fidelity and reverence, the 
 treasures of the past. It has been well observed, 
 moreover, that the good providence of God may be 
 discerned in respect of the ilma at which the Liturgy 
 and other services of the Church wei'e translated into 
 our vernacular. It was not simply neglect which 
 delayed this work ; there were formidable obstacles in 
 the way of its accomplishment ; and, in respect of our 
 own country, there scarcely existed, until the sixteenth 
 century, a connnon English language, which could be 
 " understanded of the " whole " peo[)le." 
 
 And how marvellously was this newly moulded 
 language employed by those who prepaied the English 
 Prayer-book ! A comparison of the ancient Latin 
 collects with the translation will convince any compe- 
 tent observer, that not only were tne riches of the 
 past preserved to lis, but also that " scribes instructed 
 unto the kin^^dom of heaven " were moved to " brino- 
 forth " for us " out of their treasures things new " as 
 well as " old." 
 
 The exquisite beauty with whicli the germ of 
 thought in the original has often been developed, the 
 deeply reverential tone of the composition, must re- 
 
 
Ifil her 
 ch her 
 •ing for 
 se who 
 )le, and 
 ice, the 
 )serve(l, 
 nay be 
 Liturgy 
 :ed into 
 which 
 aclcs in 
 t of our 
 xteeuth 
 ould he 
 
 iioulded 
 Eni»:lish 
 b Latin 
 
 compe- 
 ; of the 
 ■; true ted 
 
 " bring 
 lew " as 
 
 >eim 
 
 of 
 )ed, the 
 lUst re- 
 
 TITE GUARDING OF THE DEPOSIT. 
 
 295 
 
 peatedly move us to confess how graciously God lias 
 given to the children of our Church a priceless 
 treasury of devotion ; providing for us thus tenderly, 
 in these latter days, holy words of penitence and faitli 
 and love, by means of which He has surely touched 
 the hearts of multitudes innumerable, whether in our 
 public services, or in acts of more private devotion — in 
 times of temporal or si)iritual distress, and at the 
 last great hour of need. 
 
 Here is, indeed, the deposit of the faith, elucidated 
 and interpreted in all its fulness. Learned and un- 
 learned, the wayfaring man and the little child, are 
 here instructed, in respect of their manifold necessities 
 and obligations, in resjject of their diversified relationf 
 both to God and to man, what it is to believe the 
 gospel of Christ. 
 
 Again, there is a most important feature of our 
 Church, in respect of which we must surely feel how 
 urgent is tlie duty faithfully to guard the deposit 
 which has been committed to our trust. We cannot 
 but regard as a most signal instance of God's won- 
 drous working for us, tlie circumstance that LLe ac- 
 corded to us the power, which many others did not 
 possess, of retaining in its integrity the constitution 
 of the Church as it has existed from ai)osto]ic times. 
 Surely a thouglitful man must ask, with all reverence, 
 why God thus dealt with us ; nor will he permit him- 
 self to hold the gift in less esteem, because it was not 
 
296 
 
 THE GUARDING OF THE DEPOSIT. 
 
 ''I 1 
 
 i :, 
 
 ri K 
 
 f-i^ 
 
 m 
 
 ii'(i 
 
 51 
 
 vouchsafiul to others. Was the " showing of God's 
 word unto Jacob, of His statutes and onhnances unto 
 Israel," a privilege less to be valued by them, because 
 "He had not dealt so with any" other "nation"? 
 We are not to condemn or despise others who may 
 have received less than ouiselves ; we are bound to 
 think tenderly of them, and earnestly to desire and 
 pray that what is wanting to them may be su})plied ; 
 but a reverent recoixnition of the truth that God does 
 nothing in vain, and a survey of the history of the 
 last three hundred years, may surely lead us to the 
 conclusion that it was not without a great purpose of 
 wisdom and of love that Almighty God preserved to 
 us, in our Church, those three orders of minist'.'rs, of 
 which the preface to our Ordinal tells us, that " it is 
 evident unto all men, diligently reading the Holy 
 Scripture and ancient authors, that from the apostles' 
 time they have existed in the Church." 
 
 As we contemplate, then, brethren, the past history 
 and the present condition of Christendom, is it not 
 our duty to confess to Almighty God that He has 
 entrusted to us, as members of the Church of England, 
 the deposit of His truth, under conditions and cir- 
 cumstances which bear signal witness to His fatherly 
 love and care for us ? If it le, indeed, our duty to 
 regard our ecclesiastical polity as a blessing which has 
 been secured to us by the grace and lavour of God — 
 if, in this regard, we have indeed cause to say, "The 
 
f God's 
 les unto 
 because 
 ation" ? 
 ho may 
 ound to 
 dre and 
 applied ; 
 od does 
 T of the 
 5 to the 
 rpose of 
 ;rvcd to 
 ist'jrs, of 
 t " it is 
 le Holy 
 apostles' 
 
 ; history 
 s it not 
 He has 
 England, 
 and cir- 
 fatherly 
 duty to 
 licli has 
 f God— 
 ty, " The 
 
 THE GUARDING OF THE DEEOSIT. 297 
 
 lines are flillen to us in pleasant places ; yea, we liave 
 a goodly heritage "—then let us be very careful never 
 ourselves to speak or to act, never to lead otliers to 
 speak or to act, in the sj)irit of tliose of Avliom we 
 read, that nhey thouglit scorn of that pleasant land " 
 winch God had given them. Do men never speak 
 thus faithlessly, thus slightingly, of the constitution of 
 the Church, as if it were, at the best, but a liunian 
 device, more ingenious than other organizations, if not 
 rather the outworn relic of a bygone age, to be tolerated 
 rather than esteemed ? 
 
 Again, if our English Book of Common Prayer be 
 indeed a precious treasure-house, in wliich is stored 
 for our use the deposit of the Christian faitli, must we 
 not be very careful to guard it from neglect, to secure 
 to it its due honour ? Are we, then, as careful as we 
 should be here ? Do we teach ourselves, and others 
 who^ may bo committed to our care, to realize the 
 special grace which we have received in that form of 
 sound words, so fitted at once to enliven and to instruct 
 the spirit of prayer ? Have we never allowed our- 
 selves, or tempted others, to act, in respect of this 
 spiritual sustenance, as rebellious Isiael did in respect 
 of the manna, and to regard that, which m^x well be 
 esteemed as angels' food, as "liglit bread, whicli our 
 souls loathe," and which we must perforce exchange 
 for grosser food, better suited to the cravings of\ 
 niorbid appetite ? 
 
298 
 
 THE GUARDING OF THE DEPOSIT. 
 
 % 
 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 r . I 
 
 . I 
 
 
 It is, again, a practice with some, when they would 
 define the teaching of the Church of England, to 
 appeal to her Articles only ; and we sometimes hear 
 it affirmed by persons who do not belong to her com- 
 munion, that her Liturgy and Articles are not in har- 
 mony with each other, the former being Arminian and 
 the latter Calvinistic. If this assertion were correct, 
 our order for public prayer and for the administration 
 of the sacraments must have been, not only in respect 
 of its ancient substance, but also in respect of its 
 modern form, Arminian before Arminius, and our 
 Articles Calvinistic at a time when the name of Calvin 
 was scarcely known in England. As honest men, we 
 could not give our assent alike to the Liturgy and to 
 the Articles if their doctrine were irreconcilable ; nor 
 are we guarding the deposit as faithful men, if we 
 give any colour to this unfounded and injurious 
 statement. 
 
 The two formularies are, indeed, of a character 
 widely distinct. The Liturgy is the voice of the Church 
 for all times — her solemn offering of prayer and praise, 
 presented, with upward glance, to God in heaven ; her 
 Articles are words of defence, extorted from her by 
 the necessities of controversy — uttered to ex})lain and 
 justify her position in the face of a divided Chris- 
 tendom. The Liturgy may be likened to the '* goodly 
 raiment," in wdiieh the Church rejoices to stand and 
 minister in the house of God ; the Articles to armour. 
 
 
THE DEPOSIT. 
 
 299 
 
 would 
 nd, to 
 s hear 
 r com- 
 in har- 
 an and 
 correct, 
 itration 
 respect 
 ; of its 
 nd our 
 e Calvin 
 men, we 
 [ and to 
 ble; nor 
 if we 
 njurious 
 
 laracter 
 
 Cliurch 
 
 d praise, 
 
 en; lier 
 
 her by- 
 lain and 
 i Cliris- 
 " goodly 
 and and 
 
 armour. 
 
 THE GUARDING C 
 
 wliich she reluctantly ar;sumes, to sliield lierself from 
 calumny, and lier cliildren from tlie wiles of her 
 adversaries. Yet may slie adopt, without inecmsis- 
 tency, alike tlie priestly garments and the warlike 
 array ; and we are not true to lier, we fail to guard 
 the dei)osit, if we admit that the two agree not to- 
 gether. Be it also borne in mind, that th<y who framed 
 
 rteligion 
 
 had th 
 
 derstaiidi 
 
 eu' v.iiderstaiKlings f 
 
 and 
 
 our Ai'ticles of Ruli 
 their affections most thoroughly imbued with the 
 doctrine of our Liturgy ; and that we are bound, 
 therefore, if any doubt should arise, so to interpret 
 the former as that tliey may not contradict the latter. 
 Some years ago justly deserved condenniation was 
 passed on a non-natural interpretation of the Articles. 
 Be it remendjeied that a non- natural interpretation of 
 the language of our Book of Common Prayer is, with 
 equal justice, open to the same censure : that it is, if 
 possible, yet more censurable, because the language of 
 our services is directly^ addressed to, or uttered in the 
 presence of. Almighty God, in the most sacred actions 
 of our lives. 
 
 Be it remembered, too, that the lex oraixll is, for 
 all of us to a very large extent, for many (jf us alto- 
 gether, the h\i' credcndi. The ordinary (Christian man 
 j)ractically derives the substance of his I'uith from the 
 words of confession, prayer, and praise which he is 
 tauu'ht to address to God, and from words which h3 
 is instructed to take with him, or which are solemnly 
 
h 
 
 300 
 
 T//E GUARDING OF THE DEPOSIT. 
 
 addressed to him or uttered in liis audience, wlien he 
 apja'oaches the ba[)ti.snial font or tlie Holy Table of 
 the Lord. 
 
 We cannot be "guarding the deposit" if we give, 
 or teach otliers to give, a non-natural sense to the 
 language of the Biptisinal OHieo, of the Catechism, of 
 the OtKce for the Administrati(jn of the Holy Com- 
 munion, or of the Ordinal : we are not handing on, as 
 faithful stewards, that which has been committed to 
 our trust, except we give their full significance to both 
 the Confessions of our Church; whether to the loftier 
 Confession, which she ever offers before God, or to that 
 which occupies a lower ground, as being her apology 
 or answer to those who would assail her })osition as a 
 Reformed communion. 
 
 Suffer me to mention another point, which is essen- 
 tial to the "guarding of the deposit." A com})laint 
 is not unfrerpiently made of those who preach, not 
 Christ, but the Church. I do not denv that the want 
 of a rio-ht understandinii- of Christian truth, and of a 
 due feeling of its sacred character, may })ossibly lead 
 to this monstrous result ; but I would venture to re- 
 mind you, brethren, that if we would "guard the 
 dei)0sit " faithfully, we must preach hoih Christ and 
 His Church. If it be possible so to preach the Church 
 as to ignore the surpassing glory of her Head, it is 
 also possible so to preach Christ as if there were no 
 Church of which He is the Head. It is, indeed, a fatal 
 
THE GUARDIXG OF THE DEPOSIT. 
 
 301 
 
 wlion ho 
 Table of 
 
 we give, 
 e to the 
 oil ism, of 
 )ly Com- 
 iiLT on, as 
 nitted to 
 e to both 
 le loftier 
 )!• to that 
 • apology 
 Lion as a 
 
 I is essen- 
 ?omplaiiit 
 each, not 
 the want 
 and of a 
 sibly lead 
 re to rc- 
 iiaid the 
 lirist o.nd 
 le Church 
 ead, it is 
 ) were no 
 cd, a fatal 
 
 error not to " hold the Head, from which all the body 
 oy joints and bands, having nonrislnnent ministered 
 and being knit tog.'ther, increascth with the increase 
 of God;" but it is also a most gi'ievous error so to 
 hoM the Heail as to ignore tlie divinely appointed 
 organization, tlu'oii^-h which, as the apostle in these 
 words assures us, the nourishment of the body is dis- 
 pensed, and its unity and strength secured. 
 
 Our Blessed Lord cannot be more truly honoured 
 by our refusing to recognize that Church " which He 
 loved, and for which He gave Himself "—that Church 
 which S. Paul elsewhere declares to be " the pillar and 
 ground of the truth." It is not safe to regard our 
 Lord as the teacher of a philosophy, however divine, 
 rather than as the f(junder of an eternal kin'^-dom • 
 our relation to Him necessarily involves an organized 
 relation to each other, determined by divine and 
 unchanging laws. The branches of the True Vine 
 partake together of one common life ; they who belong 
 to Christ are members of one Body— stones builded 
 together into one spiritual temple. Nor can we speak 
 faithfully of Christ the Vine, of Christ the Head, of 
 Christ the chief Corner-Stone, without s])eaking also 
 of that wondrous spiritual structure, His gracious 
 relation to which is marked by the many names of 
 love and power which are assigned to Him in Holy 
 Scripture. 
 
 Some persons may be tempted not " to guard the 
 
I. 
 f ] 
 
 maim 
 
 302 
 
 T//£ G(/J/;!DLVG OF THE DEPOSIT. 
 
 deposit" in certain points, ])y tlie ho[)e of conciliating 
 those who are unliappily separated from ns. Tli(;y 
 may desire to witluh-aw what otliers r('^•ard as un- 
 autliorized pretensions, and so to occupy a conunon 
 ground witli tliem. What, tlien, must he tlie necessary 
 etiect of their doing so, while " the <l('posit," as en- 
 shrined in the formidaries of our C^hureh, remains 
 what it is? They nuist deprive themselves of all 
 excuse, before God and man, for using or assenting to 
 those formularies. So long as they honestly " guard 
 the deposit," they may be regarded, by those who 
 differ from us, as sincere though mistaken ; but so soon 
 as they betray " the dei)osit," they necessarily incur 
 tlie grievous charge of insincerity. And, more than this, 
 so far as their action is ccmcerned, the (,'iiurch becomes 
 degraded into the most presumptuous and arrogant 
 of sects, presuming, as she does from their p(Mnt of 
 view, to utter before God words of most awful and 
 solemn import, to which her heart does not respond, 
 and before men to make pretences and speak "great 
 swelling words of vanity," while she yet repudiates 
 her title to any real distinction from other Christian 
 bodies which put forward no such claims. If we will 
 not " guard the deposit " which has been committed 
 to our trust as a Church, we have no alternative but 
 to renounce it openly and honestly, having first put to 
 ourselves with all seriousness the momentous inquiry, 
 " Did that deposit come to us from the hand of God, 
 or no ? 
 
THE GUARDING OF THE DEPOSIT. 
 
 303 
 
 lliating 
 
 Thoy 
 
 as un- 
 
 jominon 
 
 3cessary 
 
 " as on- 
 
 roiuains 
 
 »s of all 
 
 iiting to 
 " Liuavd 
 
 Dso who 
 
 t so soon 
 
 ily incur 
 
 :lian this, 
 hccomes 
 arrogant 
 point of 
 
 wful and 
 respond, 
 ,k "great 
 epudiates 
 Christian 
 f we will 
 loHimitted 
 ative but 
 rst put to 
 s inipiiry, 
 id of God, 
 
 I]iit whither will men turn, if tlu^y should un- 
 liappily r('s«)lve to forsake the historic (Jhurch of the; 
 past, which sve an; taughi 1.0 helieve an<l to confess, 
 as retaining to the end of the world her imjxMishahle 
 continuity, marvellously as she may he <^^aii;. ht to adapt 
 herself to the needs of successive generations, and to 
 the various characteristics of " the nation of them that 
 are saved, that shall walk in lier light" ? Does there 
 float before the mental vision of some that va;;ue, 
 impalpable phantom which men venture to call " The 
 Church of the Future"? — a thing of negations and eva- 
 sions and equivocations, the very charm of which lies, 
 not in what it shall afHrm, but in what it shall deny ; 
 not in what it shall hold fast, but in what it shall 
 consent to yield ; not in what it shall be, but in what 
 it shall abstain from being; — a shadowy, forndesa 
 apparition, to which the description of the poet may 
 be most justly applied — 
 
 *' If shape it might be called, that shape had none 
 Distinguishable in member, joint, or liml) ; 
 Or substance miglit be called that shadow seemed. 
 For each seemed either." 
 
 Once more, brethren, let me present to you that 
 which appears to many a further and most cogent 
 reason for unflinching steadfastness and faithfulness to 
 our high trust. I refer to the remarkable position in 
 which the Church of England has stood ever since the 
 Reformation, in respect of all other Christian bodies 
 
304 
 
 THE GUARDING OF THE DEPOSIT. 
 
 'I ■ »- 
 
 throughout the world ; and more than ever at this day 
 stands, by virtue of her own wide extension and of her 
 intercommunion with other branches of the Church 
 Catholic, holdincc the same faith and observino; the 
 same order with herself George Herbert, in the 
 seventeenth century, gave beautiful expression to his 
 profound sense of her strangely unique position ; 
 while the hopes and responsibilities attaching to this 
 position have been recognized, in very striking terms, 
 by the Romanist, Joseph de Maistre, in the early 
 part of this century. The note of warning and en- 
 couragement, the invitation to trembling hope and 
 expectation, to patient abiding in the place where God 
 has set us, humbly preparing ourselves to do His bid- 
 ding, and careful, above all things, not to forfeit, by 
 any act of impatience or self-will, that vantage-ground 
 which has been so wonderfully assigned to us — this 
 note, I say, has been again bounded, a few months since, 
 in England, by a distinguished prelate of our Church. 
 His words are : " If there be any guiding hand in 
 the progress of history, if there be any Supreme Pro- 
 vidence in the control of events, if there be any Divine 
 Presence and any Divine call — then the position of 
 England, as the mother of so many colonies and de- 
 pendencies, the heart and centre of the world's com- 
 merce and manufacture, and the position of the 
 Enjrlish Church, standing midway between extremes 
 in theological teaching and ecclesiastical order, point 
 
this day 
 id of her 
 
 Church 
 vin2: the 
 ;, in the 
 m to his 
 position ; - 
 T to this 
 icr terms, 
 jhe early 
 
 and en- 
 lope and 
 here God 
 i His bid- 
 brfeit, by 
 fe-irround 
 
 US — this 
 iths since, 
 r Church. 
 
 hand in 
 rerae Pro- 
 ly Divine 
 osition of 
 s and de- 
 dd's com- 
 m of the 
 
 extremes 
 :der, point 
 
 rf/£ GUASDLVC OF THE DEPOSIT. 305 
 
 to the Churcl. of this nation, with the very finder of 
 God Hnnself, as called by Him to the lofty ta"* 
 reeonodrng a distracted Christendom and h lin h ' 
 M-ounds of the nations." • ° 
 
 the!eletf'!;'''*'""'f ""•' ""^'"""^ '-'-■ ""^er 
 the sen e of this overwhelming responsiWlity let us 
 
 ascends to God from well-nigh every portion of our 
 s dl m the safe paths of duty and obedience, if haply 
 
 X 
 
?v n 
 
 mi'. ' 
 
 I >s, 
 
 lij 
 
 SERMON XXII. 
 
 Preached in Trinity Collecje Chapel ox Sunday, 
 June 20, 1(S8(), iking the Last Sunday in the 
 Academical Year. 
 
 Psalm xc. 17. — " Establish Thou the work of our hands upon 
 us ; yea, tho work of our hands establish Thou it." 
 
 In addressing you, probably, for the last time from this 
 place, I have, for many reasons, which appear to me 
 weighty, resolved to abstain, as far as possible, from 
 matters of a ]^ersonal kind. I have already had 
 opportunities ,)f expressing very imperfectly the feel- 
 ings with which I regavj my approaching separation 
 from you; to many and J^ ; most solemn of these 
 feelings no expression can be given, or should be 
 attempted ; those which lie nearer the surface have 
 found, or may find, expression elsewhere. 
 
 I propose then, at i)resent, to address myself to a 
 duty which has not unfrequently been urged upon me ; 
 a duty which, I think, I may more seasonably dis- 
 charge now than I could have done at an earlier period ; 
 a duty, too, which, I trust, may not be incongruous 
 with this sacred time and place, but may justly claim, 
 
Sunday, 
 
 IN THE 
 
 mds upon 
 
 it." 
 
 Torn this 
 ar to me 
 ble, from 
 xdy had 
 the feel- 
 }paration 
 of these 
 hould be 
 'ace have 
 
 rself to a 
 upon me ; 
 ably dis- 
 3r period ; 
 jongruous 
 tly claim, 
 
 ^^^^yrv COLLEGE. .0^ 
 
 Many of the ci.ou«.sta„: Tw. , t t i^ 7 ^•'" 
 are, I believe unknown f fo-n^lation 
 
 others Vefl , ''"°' ^"^' '■•^'■gotten by 
 
 -dt tr/w g! *'^^ r ^ '-'■' °f '•>« e..ow„ was 
 
 n>ai„tena„et of r!r°' "" ^''"'- '"' ''''' ^^ ^^^ 
 aeeordin. to i f ' "V"'*™''"" '" "'''^ -"""7. 
 
 -^ and ;;;::."::; r.s^^^^ 
 
 open"";;,:;:; r^^^^ ::z':r^ ^^-^ ~"^ 
 
 either from professors orZ . , '""^ '"'^'""^ '"^^ 
 to connect the univer tv '" ^ >-'■ i" order 
 
 ni 1 « •"i>tisity to some extent wJfl. +i 
 
 Uiurch of Fnolnn.i ^1 ^^^i<-ni ^VItl^ the 
 
 r.noiand, the members i^i- fi. n 
 
 council were recmired to h. r ' '^'^^"-^ 
 
 I'Hiecl to be members of that Church, 
 
mmm 
 
 mmifmmm 
 
 I 
 
 
 308 
 
 TRINITY COLLEGE. 
 
 and to subscribe her articles, as were also the professor 
 of divinity and all graduates in that faculty. 
 
 To satisfy objections raised against these restric- 
 tions, they were modified in the reign of King William 
 the Fourth and all members of the college council, and 
 all professors thereafter to be appointed, were required 
 simply to make a declaration that they believed in 
 the authenticity and divine inspiration of the Old and 
 New Testaments, and in the doctrine of the Trinity. 
 These modifications were, with the king's assent, 
 introduced into the Royal Charter by an act of the 
 Legislature of Upper Canada, and on this basis the 
 university was established, the foundation stone of 
 the building being laid April 23rd, 1842, and King's 
 College, as the university was styled, being opened 
 June 8th, 1843. 
 
 It could scarcely bo antici])ated that the large 
 concessions which had been made, would not create 
 a demand for more. The existence of a Faculty of 
 Divinity in the college for the exclusive teaching of 
 the doctrine and discipline of the Church of England, 
 and also the use of her Liturgy within its walls, were 
 regarded as invasions of religious liberty, and on 
 May 30th, 1849, an Act was passed which took effect 
 on January 1st, 1850, by which the Royal Charter 
 granted to King's College was virtually repealed, 
 being so amended as to retain no longer any of those 
 advantages which the Royal Charter had been de- 
 
 .11 
 
TRINITY COLLEGE. 
 
 309 
 
 cstric- 
 ilUaui 
 il, and 
 quired 
 ved in 
 )ld and 
 Crinity. 
 assent, 
 : of the 
 asis tbe 
 stone of 
 ^1 King's 
 opened 
 
 le large 
 )t create 
 Lculty of 
 bching of 
 [England, 
 ais, were 
 and on 
 )ok effect 
 Charter 
 repealed, 
 of those 
 been de- 
 
 fiigned to secure to members of the Church of England, 
 in respect of the religious education of their children. 
 
 A very strong feeling was aw^akened in this country 
 under circumstances so painful, and a great effort was 
 made, an effort nobly aided by the members of our 
 Church at home, and afterwards by our brother 
 Churchmen in the United States, to provide some 
 substitute for the richly endowed institution^ of which 
 the members of our Church could no longer avail 
 themselves for the highest purposes for which it had 
 been provided. 
 
 In 1850 Bishop Strachan, at the age of seventy- 
 two, undertook a voyage to England to advocate the 
 claims of a new college to a Royal Charter, and also 
 to procure material aid for its erection. During his 
 stay in London he had more than one personal inter- 
 view on the subject of his mission with the late Sir 
 Robert Peel. The bishop's account of those interviews 
 is most interesting, and it is satisfactory to observe 
 how strongly this distinguished statesman recognized 
 the injustice to which our Church had been subjected, 
 in having: wrested from her an institution which had 
 been designed for the general benefit of the community, 
 under her guardianship and control. Sir Robert 
 Peel's calamitous death, however, abruptly closed his 
 communications with Bishop Strachan. 
 
 Such, then, were the conditions under which this 
 collesfe was founded. In the first instance a Pro- 
 
IPP" 
 
 310 
 
 TRINITY COLLEGE. 
 
 
 f 
 
 i"' 1:^ 
 
 ID 
 
 r 
 
 vincial Act of Incorporation only was o])tained for it, 
 and when the college was opened on January 15th, 
 1852, it was simply on this basis; our future was still 
 uncertain ; we knew not, as yet, under what conditions 
 our students were to obtain degrees. A petition to 
 the Queen for a Royal Charter had, however, been 
 already presented through the Government of Canada, 
 but in 1850, neither the Colonial nor the Imperial 
 Government was disposed to favour the petition ; a 
 change of government at home, however, took place, 
 and on July IGth, 1852, the Royal Charter was 
 granted, constituting Trinity College a university. 
 We were thus relieved from all doubt and difficulty, 
 and our earliest students were enabled to prosecute 
 their studies almost from the first, with an assurance 
 that the place in which they were receiving their 
 education was empowered to send them forth with 
 the due credentials to which ability and diligence 
 might entitle them. Sir John Robinson, then Chief 
 Justice of Upper Canada, was installed as our first 
 Chancellor, June 3rd, 1853. 
 
 Such is a very brief sketch of the circumstances 
 which led to the establishment of Trinity College, and 
 to its being invested with the power of conferring 
 degrees. Those to whose patient persevering efforts 
 the college and the university, under Divine Provi- 
 dence, owe their existence, would regard, probably, 
 with great surprise and regret, the fact that any 
 
 
I 
 
 TRINITY COLLEGE. , , [ 
 
 among US .sI,o«l,l be now doubting whether the posi- 
 tion wineh thoy achieved lor us should be retained 
 or abandoned ; and those of us w)io can recollect what 
 nmnner of men they were who then fought our battle, 
 cannot t hnik without something like indignant emotion 
 that such a question should be for a n.oment enter- 
 aaied. I believe, however, tliat it may be shown 
 that not generous feeling only, but also sound calm 
 reason, may prompt us to hold fast what wo have 
 and have acquired in so unlikely, so unlooked-for a 
 manner. 
 
 _ The proposition that there should be in this pro 
 vmce one university only, having power to confer 
 degrees m a,ts, law, and n.e.licine, is one which mav 
 be supported by very specious arguments; I am 
 however, disposed to think that strong counter ar,.u- 
 .aents might be urged, by those whose interest extends 
 to secular education only. These arguments, never- 
 theless if such exist, I am content to waive, and to 
 pomt to those alone which are involved i„ the 
 transcendent iini>ortance of religious training. It will 
 be said-it has been said-to us, " Resign your charter 
 or su.spend your exercise of the powers which it .dves 
 you ; teach your students, with the advantage which 
 must accrue from the wliolesome stimulus furnished 
 by competition with candidates from other colle-^es 
 and by the offer of richer prizes." ° ' ' 
 
 If Trinity College had been founded only for the 
 
T^^F 
 
 312 
 
 TRINITY COLLEGE. 
 
 1-, 
 
 if) 
 
 purpose of giving^ secular instruction, this argument 
 would undoubtedly possess great weight; but we 
 know that men, whose memory we justly venerate, 
 appealed to Churchmen here, and to Churchmen and 
 Church societies at home and in the States, for a 
 very different purpose, which purpose was to ensure 
 for the sons of our Church tliat relii-ious instruction, 
 which had unhappily been eliminated from the system 
 of the newly constituted university. We are most 
 solemnly bound, then, to do nothing which may to 
 any extent frustrate this most important object; and 
 we should be doing very much to frustrate it alto- 
 gether if we consented to place our charter in abeyance, 
 and to send our students to undergo examinations 
 in arts at a provincial university. In making this 
 provision we should be throwing most formidable 
 obstacles in the way of any j^oung man who might 
 desire to enrol himself among our students ; we should 
 be telling him, "You will be required to attend 
 lectures, and to pass college examinations, in subjects 
 which will avail you nothing in your university 
 course ; " we should be weighting him, by demands 
 on his time and attention, Avhich would place him 
 at an appreciable disadvantage, in respect of other 
 competitors, in the university examinations ; and it 
 would be no matter of surprise if we found many 
 an earnest Churchman, under these circumstances, 
 saying, " I heartily wish that I could send my son to 
 
1 
 
 TRINITY COLLEGE. 
 
 m 
 
 11 
 
 this 
 Lclable 
 .•ht 
 
 oukl 
 tttend 
 
 jjects 
 ersity 
 nands 
 lihn 
 
 other 
 land it 
 
 many 
 
 ances, 
 
 on to 
 
 Trinity, but the change which you have seen fit to 
 make compels me, in justice to liimself, to serai him 
 elsewhere." Nor would there be any remedy for this, 
 except we should consent to retain the empty name 
 of a Church university, while we gave no distinctive 
 Church teaching, yielding to the pressure which 
 would inevitably be brought to bear ui)on us, and 
 ceasing to recjuire a course of study which would be 
 found, under the circumstances which we are contem- 
 plating, to discourage and repel those who would 
 otherwise gladly enter within our walls. 
 
 There are thin<xs fjood in the abstract which, under 
 certain conditions, cease to be desirable. There are 
 advantages, of no questionable kind, for which it is 
 yet possible to pay too high a price ; and I am 
 by no means sure that a price far too high may 
 not be paid — is not even now being pai<i — for a 
 national system of higher education, when its neces- 
 sary condition is the elimination of religious teacli- 
 infj. The davs in which we live mav v. arn us of the 
 tendency of those systems, which, in respect of re- 
 ligious belief and practice, would attempt to main- 
 tain an impartial neutrality, an unimpassioned silence. 
 Is this neutrality always observed — is this silence 
 always maintained ? Purely scientific subjects are 
 handled very differently by those who hold, and by 
 those who do not hold, the Christian faith ; and the 
 s3'stem which invokes the aid of the man of science, 
 
314 
 
 TRINITY COLLEGE. 
 
 ^ 
 
 Pi 
 
 Avitliont rci^^ird to his belief, can scarcely liope to 
 secure the services of one who will not, either openly 
 or covertly, assail tliat which he is un<ler no official 
 oblig'ation to defend. This is not mere presumption ; 
 experience attests its truth. Great names may be 
 adduced on both sides — equally possessed of a(hnirablc 
 reasoning })ower, equally devoted to scientific incpiiry, 
 equally insjured by the honest love of speculative 
 truth; but, on the one side, we have reverence for 
 God's Word in llevelation, restraining hasty theories 
 as to the inqnjrt of His imperfectly deciphered word 
 in nature; while, on the other, the absence of such 
 reverence gives the rein to unbridled speculation, and 
 theories are presumptuously propounded, subversive 
 of the faith of the unlearned and unstable, to be them- 
 selves subverted in their turn by others, which are 
 again destined to be as short-lived as their fore- 
 runners. 
 
 I hold, then, that the purpose for which this 
 college was founded, is one which the temper of the 
 age in which we live is but investing, from year 
 to year, with the more profound importance ; that it 
 is still necessary, that it is becoming increasingly 
 necessary, that there should be an educational institu- 
 tion in our midst, independent of those injurious in- 
 fluences of which I have been speaking ; untainted, if 
 it so please God, by the Proteus-like infidelity of the 
 times : an institution where the young may be taught, 
 
TKIXITV COLLEGE. 
 
 315 
 
 w,tl, all rcvcronec, to confess tl,c connnon on^.n of th.. 
 
 woraa,.loftl,ewoH<s,,fGoa;a„,Uoad<,;,„.U.,,'o 
 n all t ,c. ,„a,,.ty an,l n.erey of His twofoM relatU.n 
 to nank,,,. H.a " I,,- wI,o,n tl,o Fatla. ,„a.le tl„. 
 worMs, an, " wl,o for „« „„,„, and for our salvation, 
 caiiio down fi-oiii lieaven." 
 
 Wc are boun,l, then, I hol,l, looking to the purpose 
 of our foun,lers an.l of the liberal benefactors of tl,is 
 college, faithfully to guar,! the trust conunittecl to us 
 and to nuuntain it as a Church university. ,So„,e 
 woukl, m.lee,l, urge us to make a still greater sacrifice 
 and to renounce our functions, even as a college' 
 except for students in divinity. ° ' 
 
 It is, in their opini,jn, a vast ad\-antagc to a 
 young man, fresh from school, to be thro:., into 
 famihar intercourse with youths of different religious 
 denominations; to u,dearn, in converse with ti.em' 
 the narrow prejudices of his earlier trainin.., an.l to' 
 nse to broader and juster views of his ^relations 
 
 T\Y\ ^^"'"' """■ ^ ^'""'^' ^"-y '"»eh the 
 ben,.fit of such associations, or rather I doubt not at 
 
 all how subtly dangerous their inlh.ence uu.st be 
 
 -how sure they will be to impair faith, rather than 
 
 to inculcate charity: nor can I f,jrget that there now 
 
 exists in educational institutions, in «hich secular 
 
 instruction alone is communicated, a large and as is 
 
 to be feared, a rapidly increasing proportion of those 
 
 who avow no religious belief at all ; whose practice is 
 
I : 
 • I 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 316 
 
 riUXITY COLLEGE. 
 
 controlled by no ivli^nouH principlo, and to intimate 
 fellowship with whom no ])arent can, without <,'uilt, 
 dellhcrately expose his child. There are some who 
 even avow the persuasion that a traininjj^ like this is 
 a far better introduction to a course of study for Holy 
 Orders, than the narrow sphere which a Church college 
 presents. For my own ])art, I think that the woild, 
 with all its laxity of practice, and vagueness of opinion 
 rather than of belief, is ever near enough to us all ; 
 and that the young refpiire far more to be instructed 
 as to the way in v 'nch they should go, than to be 
 perplexed and disi ^ed by a premature encounter 
 with " divers and strange doctrines " and theories. 
 
 I have something to say as to the position of this 
 college as a place designed for the training both of 
 lay members and of tjie clergy of our Church in this 
 province. And first of the laity : one great evil from 
 which the Church has bitterly suffered in times past, 
 has been the want of an intelligent apprehension of 
 her doctrine and discipline on the part of her lay 
 members. This must often result in a want of zeal for 
 her welfare, and even where such zeal exists, it cannot 
 be according to knowledge. Looking to the past, I 
 think that we may humbly thank God that somefhhuj 
 at least has been done here to form intelligent and 
 devout lay members of our Church. I hope that 
 much more may be done in years to come ; and, as 
 we value this hope, I would pray all to whom the 
 
 
T^ 
 
 TKIXITY COLLEGE. 
 
 Z^7 
 
 interests of the C()11(';4C are entrustiMl, for this liope's 
 sake, to iiiaiutaiii tlie collf^^c in its intej^rity as a 
 (Jluireli nnivuisity. 
 
 As a place of trainin^^ for our cler<^y, tlie collr;^^ is, 
 as I conceive, l)o)in<l to keep strictly to the ground of 
 the Church of Kngland ; making l\er fonnularies the 
 guide hoth of its teaching and of its practice. We 
 shouhl, I hold, he well content with what the Church 
 of England expressly connnends to our belief and our 
 observance, not venturing oui'selves to act, or to teacli 
 oMiL'rs to act, on the hazardous hyj)othesis that she is 
 always to be understood to permit that wliich she lias 
 not expressly forbi(hlen. 
 
 It has sometimes been urged that, wliat we moderns 
 have learned t(j call " different schools (jf thou<dit," 
 should be represented in the college, and wo have been 
 told that this is the case in the English universities. 
 It may be so in fact ; it is not so in theoiy or in in- 
 tention. ^Icn are there ai)pointed to professorships on 
 the ground of their abilities and acf^uirements, without 
 special reference to their opinions, and certainly in 
 no case with a view to their l)ecoming exponents of 
 the system of any particular school. The attempt to 
 assume this position would, I should say, be entirely 
 alien to the province of a professor, and to a just 
 estimate of his ofHcial duty. We have already had 
 amongst us as professors in this college, gentlemen 
 marked by different shades of opinion, and so long as 
 
3i8 
 
 TRIXITY COLLEGE. 
 
 
 
 I :; 
 
 I !^ 
 
 these differences lie within certain limits, recognized 
 by our Church, they may be productive of good rather 
 than of evil. I humbly conceive that the governing 
 body of this college will do wisely in seeking from 
 those to whom the office of instruction may be here- 
 after confided, a cordial acceptance of tlie formularies 
 of our Church, nor can I imagine that any true Church- 
 man can look with just suspicion or dislike on teaching 
 which is confessedly in accordance with these formu- 
 laries. 
 
 No school of theology, in our Church, which is 
 loyally and without reserve attached to her plain 
 teaching, can have any occasion to announce " distinc- 
 tive princi])les" of its own; on the contrary, by so 
 doing, it exposes itself at once to the imputation of 
 establishing itself as an hwperxihrw in mii^erio, for 
 which the " distinctive principles " of the (church her- 
 self are either too broad or too narrow. I am glad to 
 be able to quote the words of a well-known member 
 of the evangelical party in England to thii- effect, in 
 opposing the adoption of " distinctive principles " for 
 Wyclitfe Hall, at Oxfc rd. He said, " Our platform 
 must not be narrower than that of the Church of 
 England, must not be less than the Avhole Prayer- 
 book." It is to be apprehended that there are within 
 our Church extreme men who would rejoice to see 
 the Prayer-book revised, and who have not unreason- 
 able OTOunds for uneasiness until such revision shall 
 
 t 
 
^ 
 
 TRIXITY COLLEGE. 3 [g 
 
 hav-e been bro«gl,t about. I conceive tl,at in a Church 
 college hke this, our only safety lie. in .seeking tl>e 
 services of men, who not only do not desire, but ^ould 
 very strongly deprecate, any niaterial changes in our 
 i3ook of Conunon Prayer, and who, knouing the peril 
 wh.eh must attend any change whatever, are well 
 content that none whatever .shouW be intro.luced 
 
 No very long tin>e has j.assed since the establish- 
 ment of tins college, on its existing footing, was n.ost 
 a,dently des.red and mo.st vigorously prosecuted. I 
 tru.st It may be very long ere any attempt shall be 
 made to undo, in any respect, the work which was 
 then so happily acco.nidished. There seeme.l for 
 some t™e, but slight expectation of our obtaining a 
 Royal Charter; and when I consider the very .-rL-e 
 issuer nrvolved in the fact of our possessing it, the for 
 ampler opportunities which we consequently enjoy of 
 instructmg young n.en in the principles of the Chris- 
 tian fiiith ; when I contrast our present position with 
 that winch we shoulci probably have now been occupy- 
 ing had the charter been withheM, I cannot think 
 that we err in confessing, in this regard, the merciful 
 providence of Go,l, and in looking upon the privilege 
 which has been accorded to us, as a gift received 'It 
 His hands, an,l to be guarded, piously and jealously 
 as a taent entrusted to us for His glory and for tlie 
 good of Hls Churcli aiiiono- us 
 
 And I think that we may thus guard it with .ood 
 hope for the future. 
 
320 
 
 TRINITY COLLEGE. 
 
 \y. '1 
 
 We have been told that it is hopeless for a founda- 
 tion, possessing resources no larger than ours, to attempt 
 to hold its ground as a place of general university 
 education ; and it must be allowed that we are not at 
 present prepared to meet, as fully as more richly en- 
 dowed societies, the expense attendant on the teaching 
 of some branches of science, which are now especially 
 popular and are recommended by their great practical 
 utility ; yet we ought not to doubt that the liberality 
 of Churchmen will surely enable us to make the teach- 
 ing of the college at least ."sufficient in this department ; 
 while I am satisfied that we may still give most effici- 
 ently, what was formerly regarded as constituting, and 
 does still to a very lurge extent constitute, the educa- 
 tion of a gentleman. It must be by our own fault if 
 we do not continue to enjoy a reputation for solid 
 classical training, and if our mathematical standard 
 does not remain at least equal to that which is main- 
 tained elsewhere ; ant). I believe that as the country 
 progresses in wealth and in culture, we shall find, 
 among its best and worthiest families, many who will 
 be glad to seek, in addition to these advantages, the 
 priceless benefits of such an education as can be given 
 only on Christian principles, and under the hallowed 
 shelter of the Church of Christ. 
 
 The past leaves to us, as must ever be the case, 
 many a cause for huu) illation and regret ; but, thank 
 God, it leaves us also many an occasion for gratitude 
 
 aj 
 
TRINITY COLLEGE. 
 
 jntla- 
 
 .empt 
 
 ersity 
 
 lot at 
 
 lyen- 
 
 iching 
 
 ecially 
 
 actical 
 
 crality 
 
 ! teach- 
 
 •tment ; 
 
 it effici- 
 
 tng, and 
 educa- 
 fault if 
 solid 
 andard 
 s main- 
 country 
 :ill find, 
 vrho will 
 o-es, the 
 3e given 
 lallowed 
 
 lie case, 
 
 nt, thank 
 
 k-atitude 
 
 321 
 
 3r 
 
 and hope. Let us, then, be of good courage, and offer 
 with trustful hearts the prayer of the text : " And 
 the work of our hands, oh, establish upon us; yea, 
 the work of our hands establish Thou it." " That 
 which we have attempted in our feebleness, let Thy 
 Almighty Hand make permanent." 
 
 But, remember, it is the "work of our hands" which 
 we pray God to establish ; the ?m7yian work — the 
 human effort — however feeble, must be there, to be 
 prospered and established by His almighty power and 
 by His tender mercy. Let us be true to Him — true 
 to the lofty aims and pious counsels of those who 
 preceded us, true to our own sacred principles, as 
 none can be true save those who have learned to 
 " look not at the things which are seen, but at the 
 things which are not seen," to look away from the 
 false glare and glitter of the world, to that which 
 God Himself accounts to be most precious and most 
 honourable. 
 
 On some to whom I am now speaking the weight 
 of this responsibility does not as yet rest ; they have 
 not as yet to advise and act for the well-being of the 
 college, and they cannot wisely seek to anticipate 
 the time when this burden will rest upon them. It 
 will come all too soon : meanwhile, during their 
 happy immunity from it, there does rest upon tliem 
 what should ever be regarded as a most welcome 
 and inspiring obligation, the obligation to advance the 
 
 Y 
 
322 
 
 TRINITY COLLEGE. 
 
 
 r 1 1 
 
 welfare of the society, into which they have been 
 admitted, by personal excellence, and by a diligent use 
 of the faculties with which God has endowed them, 
 and of the means of improvement which He has here 
 placed within their reach. The great Bishop Selwyn 
 is still held in grateful remembrance by those who 
 knew him at Eton and at Cambridge, as one who 
 exhibited before them the fair example of a pure and 
 honourable Christian life. We see, in his instance, 
 how great, how glorious, may be the issue of such a 
 boyhood, and of such a youth. Examples such as his 
 go very far to prosper and to establish the institutions 
 which they have adorned. Pray God, then, " the 
 Protector of all that trust in Him, without whom 
 nothing is strong, nothing is holy, to increase and 
 multiply upon you His mercy," so that both your 
 example here, and your future conduct in the world, 
 may tend, by His grace, to establish the work of their 
 hands, who once founded, or who still foster, this 
 college. 
 
 lilli 
 
 Note. — 1 take this opportunity of placing on record the 
 following instances of noble generosity, discovered by members 
 of the Church of England, in assisting in the establishment of 
 Trinity College. When the venerable Bishop Strachan visited 
 England in 1850, for the purpose of appealing to the sympathies 
 of English Churchmen on behalf of the effort he was about to 
 make, ho received from the Society for the Propagation of the 
 Gospel £2000, and a donation of seven acres and a half of land 
 in the city of Toronto, of at least equal value. From the Society 
 
TRWITY COLLEGE. ^^X 
 
 tollT^^- '^'"f"'" Knowledge lie received £3000, and 
 from the University of Oxford £500. The subscrintio,,, nf 
 individua s resident in England exceeded £-1000 S t Ity 
 
 Ac„ 3 and 4 Vict.) entrusted with the management of the Cler.n- 
 
 of ml^^:" ^''"''"'"' ""I-r-*" - MiTy 19th, 1848, as n . 
 of £1200 currency per annum, to the maintenance of a theolo- 
 gical institution in the diocese of Toronto. This amount wa, 
 nu.de over to Trinity College at its opening in January 80" 
 and a yearly income of the same amount has been derived since 
 
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