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6
THE CHILDREX OF WISDOM
AND OTHER SERMONS
PREACHED IX CANADIAN PULPITS.
I!V THE
REV. JOHN DE SOYRES, M.A.,
liector 0/ St. John's Church, St. John, New lirungm^-k; formerly
Jliilsean Lecturer in the I 'nicergity of Cambridge.
r^l
TORONTO: WILLIAM BRIGGS.
CAMBRIDGE: DEIGHTON, BELL & CO.
1897.
Kntrrkd accordint; to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year
one thousand eight hundred and ninety-seven, by John i>k
SOYRBS, at the Department of Agriculture.
5n 'Wccc06aru0 'dnltas :
5n noil •Weccseariis Xibcrtaa :
3n ©miUbua Caritaa.
I I
PREFACH.
A WORD of exphin.'itioii umy fitly precede
tliis selection of .serinons, preached by an Enj---
lish clero:ynian during a ten years' ministry in
('anada, both as concerning the topics chosen and
those which find no place here. The Church of
England in Canada has her own great qualities
iind their defects. As a voluntary Church,
virtually without endowments and entirely free
from State control, she presents a noble record
of devotion among her clergy and of generous
co-operation on the part of her laity. But the
present conditions of the Canadian Church, the
narrow though increasing scope of theological
education, and other circumstances connected
with parochial appointments, tend to the de-
velopment of a somewhat contracted spirit,
foreign to the true catholic breadth of the'
Church of England. This will account for the
exposition, from different points of view and in
VI
PREFACE.
reference to different subjects, of the origin of
English Churcli parties, witli tlieir reason of
existence and claim to recognition.
It will explain also the earnest plea for the
brightest accessories of public worship in con-
junction with the sober teaching of the Reformed
Church of England.
The custom of funeral sermons, more fre(]uent
in the colonies than in the motherland, affords
opportunity for depicting two contrasted char-
acters in the late ^Ir. T. W. Daniel, a noble repre-
sentative of the Evangelical school of tliought,
and Bishop Medley, the friend of Keble and
Pusey.
It remains to be added that, in the sermon on
the " Understanding Prayer " (p. 25), the writer
owes great obligations to a paper read many
years ago at Leeds by his friend, the Rev. J. A.
Cross, Rector of Holbeck.
J. DE S.
St. John, New Brunswick,
Advent, 1897.
i)l
CONTENTS.
I. -THE CHILDFIKN OF WISDOM.
PAdK
"Hut wisdom is justified of all her children."— St.
Luke vii. lio 9
II. -THE UNDKRSTANDINO PRAYER.
"I will pray with the spirit, and I will i)ray with the
under.staudingalso.'— 1. Cor. xiv. 15 -
25
III. -THE DAYS OF OLD.
*• Remember the former things of old."— Isaiah xlvi. 9 34
IV. -CHURCH MUSIC.
"0 praise God in his holiness," etc.— Psalm cl.
47
v.— THE LOST LEADER.
•• And the king said unto his servants, Know ye not
that there is a prince and a great man fallen this
day in Israel ?"- 2 Samuel iii. 38 -
55
VL —RELIGIOUS EDUCATION.
" As long as he liveth he shall be lent to the Lord."—
1 Samuel 1. 28
71
t • •
vin
("OXTENTS.
VII.— THK IIKAIIY OF MOLINKSS.
I'AOK
" Worship I lu! I^onl in the ln'iuity of lioliiioss."' Psalm
xcvi. \\ 80
VIII. PATIKNCK.
** In your iiiitionco yo shall win your scnils." — Lukk
xxi. 19, R.V. 92
IX.— THK CHURCH AND SOCIAL QUl':STlONS.
' Hut if the watchiniin sci; tlu; sword conio, and hlow
not till) trumpet, and the people he not \varne<l,
and the sword eonie, and take any person from
among them, his hlood will I recpiirc at the wateli-
nian's hand."— Ezkk. xxxiii. G - - - - 98
X.— THK PEACEFUL END.
" Mark the perfeet man, and hchohl the upright : for
the end of that man is peace." — Psalm xxxvii. 37. 1 10
XL— YOUTH AND DEATH.
" There is but a step between mo and <leath." — 1 Sam.
XX. 3 117
XIL— "NEHUSHTAN."
•* And Hczekiah brake in pieces thel»rasen serpent that
Moses had made : for unto those days the chihlren
of Israel did burn incense unto it : and he called it
Nehushtan."— 2 Kinmjs xviii. 4 - - - - 128
XIIL— THE FINISHED COURSE.
**I have finished my course." — 2 Tim. iv. 7 -
141
THE ClIILDKEX OF WISDOM.
Pnnchcd at St. John's Church, on the .'I'th of
May (W'hitftundau), /'>'"<•>'•
"hut \vis(l<»iii is jiistiHed «>f nil her oliildrou."-- St.
LiKK vii. .*i5.
It is not my puri)OHo to (Hhcuss the textual
(juestions, iuteivstin<^ unci important thou^li
tliey are, attachinf^ to this verse and tlie parallel
passa<(e in St. Matthew. There, as you remem-
ber, the last Revision has substituted the words :
WMoin is justified inj her works; and the
latest editions of the Greek text of the New
Testament have thou<(ht it needful to place a
mark of «loubt a<(ainst the concludin<( words in
St. Luke. But apart from textual doubts, there
have been varieties of interpretation among
those even who hold, as I hold, that the authen-
ticity of the words cannot be shaken. Some
connnentators of repute, both in early and
modem times, have taken the words in an
ironical sense. Tlie Jews are the "children of
wisdom," in their own estimation ; but, the true
wisdom, the Word, is justified from their mis-
conceptions, and also the lesser wisdom embod-
ied in John the Baptist. Other commentators
10
THE CHILDREX ()F WISDOM.
have more correctly interpreted the words as
meaning that the Children of Wisdom, those
who have attached themselves to her, and are
Christ's disciples, give cause and proof in their
lives to justify the wisdom they possess.
But two elements of sadness, even in this view,
are obvious : Firstly, wisdom is impeached by
mankind and is in need of justification. Secondly,
to effect this justification, she nuist needs gene-
rate sons who achieve it. Yes, there was a tone
of sadness running through the whole address
of Jesus to the multitude. It was a sad occasion,
if we accept the view that the Baptist's question
meant a momentary wavering of faith, though
this is not certainly established. It was sad to
confess that, against the resistance of the w^orld,
the Kingdom of God must manifest itself with
violence, breaking through the external cover-
ings of the old dispensation. It was sadder to
deplore that neither teacher — neither the Fore-
runner, nor the greater One wdiom he proclaimed,
could escape the contradictory scorn of their
methods. But we must understand the situation
of the Jews before we condemn.
It was indeed a hard and puzzling ordeal for
the Jews to hav^e to judge, at the same time, two
charact«>rs so diverse, and to their minds so
contradictory, as those of John the Baptist and
Jesus Christ. Let us place ourselves in their
position. When they had, to some extent, over-
come their repugnance to John's unconventional
THE CHILDREN OF WISDOM.
11
life and words, ha<l reconciled themselves to
his inconvenient directness in commanding un-
pleasant sacrifices, their troubles were not over.
Instead of establishing them as his disciples,
their work to pace w4th him a theological
academy, the privileged sharers of an esoteric
faith, he tells them that they are but at the
threshold ; that he himself cannot guide them
further ; that a higher and greater teacher must
now be theirs. And the new Instructor seemed
to reverse all that had been learned. Where John
had abstained, He enjoys. Where the old teacher
had left liberty, He imposes new and stringent
mandates. Where John had answered (questions
of casuistry with specific instruction, Jesus
leaves them to their owai conscience. He declines
to be a judge or a divider, He refuses to be
named one of the prophets, He retires when they
would fain make him king.
What wonder that some, against John the
Baptist's desire, made themselves his sect rather
than his disciples : just as, later, Paul and ApoUos
and Peter were to be distressed by partisans
who regarded them not as teachers, but as the
figure-heads of their factions.
And others solved the difficulty yet more
expeditiously by rejecting both teachers, rejecting
at once that burdensome baptism which involved
repentance, and the discipleship which claimed
the Cross. No far-fetched excuses were needed;
a very moderate measure of ingenuity sufficed.
12
THE CHILDREN OF WISDOM.
The one teaclier could be rejected because he
separated himself from mankind ; the other
because He shared its joys and sorrows. " For
John the Baptist came neither eating bread nor
drinking ivine, and ye say, he hath a devil. The
Son of Man is come eating and drinhing, and
ye say, Behold, a ghdtonous man and a ivine-
hibber, the friend of jndjlicans and sinners.
But wisdom is justified of all her children."
She is justified from them, from their own
personal insufficiency and weakness which sink
into oblivion, while that which is her gift
remains eternal. For the children of wisdom
are many, and are but sharers in her heritage.
Sometimes they misuse the gift ; sometimes they
do not even comprehend its value till late, nor
their own responsibilities. Nevertheless, sooner
or later the jewel shines out, in spite of the rude
setting. And wisdom is justified in and by her
children, for, though they meet with disdain
at first, then opposition, then, perhaps, a
seductive and deceptive rush of favor, followed
by neglect; yet at last, long perhaps after their
death, they are recognized in their true character,
scions of the royalty of truth.
That difficulty of choice between different
ideals and different systems has lasted through
all ages of the Christian Church. Parties have
changed their names and their watch-words,
but in essence they are continued in unbroken
descent. It is easy to denounce parties, and
1
1-*.-
I
%
3.
i
THE CHILDREN OF WISDOM.
18
most easy to denounce those which are not our
own ; but it is better to understand their reason
of existence, and the forces which maintain
tliem. " There must he heresies (or factions)
among you,'' said St. Paul, " that they which
are approved may he made manifest;' and
mucli more must there be one-sided conceptions
of Truth, earnest, sincere efforts to maintain and
propagate that which we know to be Truth, and
beheve to be the wliole Truth.
From the time of the Reformation there have
been certain great divisions of Protestant Chris-
tianity, regretable as having caused so much
of controversy and bitter misunderstanding, but
each from its own side having striven for some
important truth, neglected, or opposed, or mis-
conceived by the contemporary Church. First
of these, in order alike of chronology and
importance, is that section (at first indeed
representing the whole spirit of the Reformation
itself) whose glorious function it was to state
once more to a deceived and ignorant world the
true source of salvation in Jesus Christ. To
narrate the history of that movement is to
describe once more the most memorable chapter
in the history of the Church of England. It is
to tell once more the well-known story of
Latimer bidding Ridley play the man; of
Cranmer expiating a moments weakness by a
martyr's heroism; Jewell in his great Apology,
demonstrating the agreement of the Reformers
14
THE CHILDREN OF WISDOM.
'"In; I
with the Scriptures and the Primitive Church ;
Baxter and Howe, in a later age, proclaiming
the same message ; in the last century, Wesley
and Whitefield, outside at last (but never in
hostility to the Church), Romaine and Toplady,
Venn and Newton and Cecil within, raising a
needed protest against the utter spiritual dead-
ness of the age, when tlie pulpit seemed to have
no function but to discuss abstract questions of
religious evidence, and to inculcate outward
morality without experiencing or communicating
one spark of that love to God and the neighbor
which alone can generate it.
Who but will thank God for the work of these
men, a glorious page in the history of Christi-
anity ? But, while the excellence of that work
needs no proof, we ai'^ not blind to the danrei-s,
the exaggerations and the deficiencies which
sometimes followed in its train. For that is the
inherent weakness of human nature and human
intelligence, that rarely can we grasp more than
one truth, and sometimes only but a part of it.
Just as, only in the rarest instances of genius
— to a Homer, a Dante, or a Shakespeare, the
whole world of human nature has been revealed;
so in theology, only to a few chosen minds has
God given that wide and sober grasp, that calm
and still zealous energy, which preserves the
balance of seemingly antagonistic truths, the
need for freedom and the need for government ;
faith as the source, holiness as the result of life
I
THE CHILDREN OF WISDOM.
15
ill Christ ; above all, and in all, the teaching and
the practice of charity, " the very bond of neace
and of all virtues!'
Now, the dangers and shortcomings which fol-
lowed in the train of this movement were not
wanting. The intense emphasis laid upon the
need of a [)rofessed and personal faith, led some-
times to a carelessness about outward organiza-
tion, to a neglect sometimes of practical religion,
and often, alas, to the admission of hypocritical
followers, who professed with their lips what
was utterly absent from their hearts. Mere
voluntary assemblages of Christians, gathered
round some eloquent personage, though often, for
a "time, the centres of real spiritual life and help
to others, arc transitory, depending on the life,
and sometimes on the character and teaching of
one man. And so another party had arisen in
the Church, not disregarding the great funda-
mental teachings, but believing that the faith of
Christ needs an outward organization, in order
that the great deposit of revealed truth may be
preserved inviolate, that all things may be
done decently and in order, that the existence
of the Church should not depend on the life and
strength of individual ministers, but should have
the aid, under God's spirit, of those organic helps
so clearly recognized in St. Paul's epistles to
Timothy and Titus.
That this party has also a noble record of good
work, it is impossible to deny. It was from
• \
1
10
THE CHILDREN OF WISDOM.
I'!':
II'm
r >i
I'll
I '1 1 1
tlieir ranks, at tlie bef^inning of the last century,
that Robert Nelson and his friends established
the first great Missionary Society for the Propa-
gation of the Gospel in foreign parts, as also the
sister association for promoting Christian Know-
ledge. It was by their efforts that irreverence
in divine worship was gradually removed, and
that, now, every section of Christendom recog-
nizes that to worship God in a neglected build-
ing and with slovenly performance of the
Church's ordinances, is not a proof of a spiritual
worship, but rather of its complete absence.
But here again the shadow is found with the
light. Ignorant followers, zealous without dis-
cretion, unable to exercise the true balance, made
all Truth and all Holiness to consist inob'dience
to authority, and pei'formance of rubrical ordi-
nance. The outward sign alone was magnified :
the element of personal faith in the inward and
spiritual grace was ignored. And so, from one
side as from the other, came bitter words of
recrimination: " You are not preaching the pure
Gospel !" said one party. " You are making the
Word of God of none effect through your tradi-
tions." " And you," exclaimed the opposite side,
" you are faithless to your vows of ordination.
You are despising those ordinances and sacra-
ments which Christ commanded."
And thus, in bitter strife, the crowning virtue
of charity was lost. And worse than this. Ex-
aggeration and one-sidedness have this terrible
THE CHILDREN OF WISDOM.
17
pure
after-eftt'ct, tliat they generate an equal exag-
geration oil the other side. Because one side
seems to neglect, on tlie other, the excess will be
increased, and the guU* widened between those
who claim the same eternal Father, the same re-
deeming Saviour, and the same sanctifying
Spirit. And so there was need for another teach-
ing, though not another party, to uphold the
principle of charity — that new commandment,
" that we love one another." No doubt the ab-
horrence of controversy, of mere verbal ortho-
doxy, or of mere machine-like correctness of
ritual, has caused on this side also errors as re-
gretable as in the others. The knowledge that
empty phrases had been substituted for God's
truth has led some of them to neglect the due
exposition of fundamental doctrines; and the
consciousness that Church order has sometimes
been made the cloak of sacerdotal tyranny, has
led at times to neglect of organization divinely
approved. But still there was need for the
counterbalancing force, and among these last, as
among the others, the children of wisdom have
been found.
In our own century, among the worthy repre-
sentatives of the first movement I have described,
who has not heard of the character and work of
Charles Simeon, at Cambridge ^ Coming there
when all religious life seemed dead, when theo-
logical learning was at its lowest ebb, he strove
against an opposition which would have daunted
18
THE CHILDREN OF WISDOM.
i;
tlie stoutest heart. Actual violence, bitter attacks,
then contempt, nicknames — tlie easy substitute
for arguments — fell to his lot, but he pressed on,
gathering around him from students and towns-
people a small but gradually increasing body of
hearers for the Gospel of Christ. At last he
lived to sec the battle won ; and when, fifty years
ago, he passed away to his rest, there are those
still living who remember the universal grief,
how those who once had been opponents joined
in the great procession to the historic chapel of
King's College, and all recoijnized that here
Wisdom was justified by her offspring.
Nor shall we forget another figure from that
sister university, which has been said to have
been more fruitful in movements than in men,
but still boasts a great calendar of sons who
have done service to Church and State. John
Keble, at Oxford, led that movement which at
first intended to restore reverent service, and to
inculcate neglected truths, passed in later hands
far beyond the intentions of its creators. But
the union of an apostolical simplicity with per-
fect scholarship and culture, made him a figure
so personally attractive that all bitterness ceased
around him — the weapon of the controversialist
fell as that gentle face appeared. And when the
professorship at Oxford was exchanged for the
quiet vicarage of Hursley, and he who had ex-
pounded the principles of the Church put forth
those Hymns of the Christian Year, which are
I
M
I
■i
■I
THE CHILDREN OF WISDOM.
19
now the lieritage of all Christians, sung by Dis-
senter as by Churelnnan — tlien men who (littered
most widely from his opinions on some vexed
<|uestions felt that here also was a child of wis-
dom, and they learned of him later because they
had loved him first. Keble was no lukewarm
character, no temporizing adherent of his cause,
he could speak strongly and with warmth. But
those dead controversies have left no echo, and
the living voice speaks to all our hearts, when
we smg
" Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear,
It is not night if Thou bo near ;
() may no earth-born cloud arise
To hide Thee from Thy servant's eytis."
And if, lastly, I may speak to you of one with
whom, in former years, I came in personal con-
tact, I would claim, as for Simeon and Keble, so
also for Frederick Denison Maurice, the same
sonship of the heritage of wisdom. Sixteen
years have passed since he was laid to rest, and
already he is only a name to many people. But
some here, doubtless, have heard or read of his
early struggles, the alternations of fame and
obloquy, the fierce attacks, the sufferings, neither
feigned nor protruded; at last rest, rather by
sufferance than recognition. And to the younger
generation of those who came under his influence
at Cambridge, who remember what they learnt
from look and voice as well as from definite
20
THE CHILDREN OF WISDOM.
teacliings, wliat lessons of truth aiul reality
shown forth like the fjood priest of Chaucer:
" And Christe.s wny, find His Apostlos Twelve
He taught ; l>ut first he followed it himself ;"
that influence was unspeakable.
Maurice was broutrht to the Church of Enj(-
land not by education or hereditar}'^ connection,
but by mature conviction that her ordered liberty
affords the best framework for spiritual pro<^ress,
and that she reconciles Protestant freedom with
fidelity to the universal Church. Once in her
ranks, and after dedicating himself to her work
as a minister, he consecrated his life as solemnly
as ever a monk of the Middle Ages cut himself
off from the world's temptations. He was one
of the first to feel, and to excite in others, that
intense synlpathy for the poor which must be a
faith, though sometimes it is only a fashion. He
it was, with colleagues one in spirit, who pro-
claimed that the Gospel blessing on the poor was
no mere phrase. He taught prudence and self-
help to the working-man ; explained the prin-
ciples of co-operation ; pressed on them the
need for higher education ; offered himself as
their teacher. His voice was drowned in the
uproar of the year 1848 ; it was overwhelmed by
the party cries of those who resisted all change
and all improvement, or who disdained his pro-
posals as insufficient. But the voice was not
silenced, nor were its words forgotten. Who
THE flllLDHEN OF WISDOM.
21
reality
cer:
A'O
f;"
lection,
liberty
I'ot^ress,
ni with
in her
r work
>lemnly
himself
as one
L's, that
st be a
)n. He
lo pro-
)or was
d self-
e prin-
m the
5elf as
in the
led by
hange
is pro-
is not
Who
does not remember the Laureate's invitation,
and the lines :
. . . " Till you should turn vo dearer matters,
Dear to the man who is dear to God ;
How hust to help the slender store,
How mend the dwellings of the j)o(»r ;
How gain in life, as life advances,
Valor and charity, more and more."
At last came the end of the combats, and Cam-
bridf^e, the place of his first choice, received him
as a teacher and as a parish priest. Never will
those w^ho then, for the first time, heard him,
forget that voice which made the reading of the
Scriptures a commentary, and the oft-heard
Liturgy a new devotional discipline. Never will
they forget, who had the privilege of meeting in
his house, the magical influence of a nearer per-
sonal access ; those classes, almost like a family
circle, in which the narrow light of Locke's
Essay was made the text of conversation that
opened to our eyes the first glimpses of that true
philosophy —
" Which is not crabbed, as dull fools suppose,
But musical as is Apollo's lute. "
And when but a year later, he w^as taken from
us, in the midst of work for the world, in the
beginning of recognition by the world, it was as
when the tidings came that Elijah had departed,
the silencing of a great voice, — but no, that
22
THE CHILDREN OF WISDOM.
Ill I
voice was not silonct'd, " he being dead, yet
speaketh."
And for eacli and all of these men the Church
of England has room in her wide fold. She
is not a sect, born out of some minute dif-
ference, and ending with some transient popu-
larity; but a Church, built upon the broad
and firm rock of Christ's teachings, ordinances,
and promises. Those great and wise statesmen,
who stood around the throne of Edward and
Elizabeth, and framed the substance of our for-
mularies, endeavored not to contract, but to
enlarge. They wished to retain, if it were pos-
sible, the whole nation ; they strove to include,
not only those who were capable of grasping the
full teachings of the Reformation, but those
thousands in the North and West who had not
yet severed the ties of affection to the old forms,
and who now found so many of the old prayers
and praises, as well as the old creeds, faithfully
translated in the new Liturgy.
Our Cliurch admits, she recognizes the three
great sections I have described to you ; and he
is not a wise son who should desire to diminish
her Catholic scope, even by retrenching some
practices and some opinions which he does not
share. For to what tribunal can he appeal ? To
the Articles ? We all subscribe them readily,
and we are bound to accept them in their simple
grammatical sense. To the Prayer Book ? All
parties may desire in private some alterations
THE CHILDHKN OK WISDOM.
23
yet
wlit'ther of luUlition or abbreviatioiiH. but all
accept it loyally, and prize it as our iiiestiinablo
treasure. To our History ^ There have been
Calvinistie Archbishops, an<' Arniinian and
Hi<(h Church Archbishops, anl Latitudinarian
Archbishops : an<l who shall venture to pro-
nounce upon any of them a posthumous de-
position i
Let us thank God, then, that all efforts to
narrow our Church into a sect have failed, and
let us hope that all future efforts may similarly
fail :
For any such victory would be, whether to
the victors or to the whole Church herself,
. . . " that dishonest victory,
Of Chit'i'onoii, fjitul to lil)erty ; "
and the party which gained it would speedily
feel the Nemesis of its suicidal policy.
For the Church to which we belong is Catho-
lic and Protestant, and, above all things, Na-
tional. She claims no infallibility for herself.
She denies no hope for others. Her motto is
found in those noble words, the authorship of
which is unknown, but which surely the spirit
of God inspired : In things necessary, Unitv ;
IN THINGS NOT NECESSARY, LIBERTY ; IN ALL
THINGS, Charity.
One last word : if we realize that the Spirit
is given, not to this or to that section of the
Church, but to every man to 'profit withal ; if
24
THE Cnii.DllEN OF WISDOM.
we remember tliat to the back-sliding^- Galatians,
and to the restless and divided Corinthians, the
same apostolic salutation came as to the beloved
of Ephesus and Philippi ; if we remember the
divine blessing on the peacemakers : if we feel
that to preach even truth wrat^^fuUy and bit-
terly poisons the very truth itself; that our
satisfaction may be the Pharisee's pride, and the
object of our dislike may enjoy the Samaritan's
blessings ; then surely the seeming difficulty of
Diversity in Unity, and Unity amid Diversity,
will cease to perplex us. We shall Avelcome, we
shall honor each child of Wisdom, accepting the
measure of his gift ; we shall " %ualk worthy of
the vocation wherewith ive are called, luith all
lowliness and rieekness, vnth long -suffering,
forbearing one another in love; endeavoring
to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of
peace"
THE UNDERSTANDING PRAYER.
Sermon preached fore the Deanery of St. John, in
Trinity Church, October Sth, 18S0.
"I will jiray with the spirit, and I will pray with the
understanding also." — 1 Cor. xiv. 15.
In St. Paul's character nothing is more remark-
able than the union of enthusiasm and common
sense. Usually we have come to regard these
qualities as contradictory ; the reasonable man
despises tlie enthusiast, the ardent devotee re-
gards the other as lukewarm and lialf-hearted.
And yec these attributes can be, ought to be, in
harmony one with another ; they can and ought
to be in some measure represented and united
in each well-developed mind.
Never does St. Paul manifest this union so
conspicuously as in his dealing with the delicate
topic of the regulation of public worship. He
dealt with circumstances and conditions hard
for us even to conceive. Instead of an elaborate
system of inherited liturgical forms, as we possess,
they had but the simple ordinances of Christ,
which many added on to the practice of the Jewish
ceremonial law. But instead of our modern
spirit, calm and critical, rather accepting than
26
THE UNDERSTANDING PRAYER.
seeking Christ and His words, there was a pas-
sionate zeal, there was the possession or the
claim of spiritual gifts, there was an intense
feeling of spiritual democracy, where not even
an apostle could urge a direct command, but
could only counsel and exhort.
Not for a moment would the great apostle
have seemed to quench the Spirit, or to despise
prophesying ; never would he have discouraged
even the unskilful utterance of a devout soul, or
the earnest striving of a loving spixit. But he
knew that an intelligent principle must pervade
even that service which springs from the heart's
impulse ; and he strove to urge such regulation,
and such methods, that all things might be done
with decency and order.
Again and again, since those days, the subject
of the best methods of divine service has been
discussed. The slow development of liturgical
forms was followed later by a disastrous obscurity
and complication — not merely the admixture of
spurious legend with the inspired Scripture, not
merely the patent abuse of saying service in
what had become, little by little, a dead lan-
guage and an unknown tongue, but those diffi-
culties of arrangement, admitted even by the
clergy, of which the Preface to our Prayer Book
says, " That many times there ivas more business
to find out what should be read, than to read it
when it was found out"
And now, after three more centuries, the
THE UNDERSTANDING PRAYER.
27
thought of a necessity for further revision is be-
fore the Christian Church. The matter has
repeatedly occupied the attention of the sister
Church of the United States. Indeed, it is a
most serious and solemn question I do not envy
the man who approaches the matter with a light
heart, still less one with any feeling of superiority
or of scorn for opposition. With regard to the
liturgy, two words, alteration, adaptation, have
oeen brought into prominence. As to the first,
if I dwell upon its possibilities or necessities, I
do not speak from any present or personal feel-
ing. The minister of an educated congregation
speaks shame to himself if he has not been able
to make clear to old and young the archaic
words, and trains of thought, or forms of ex-
pression, found in the liturgy. But this is a
question, not for individual congregations, but
for the whole Anglican Church. And those
who have ministered in the mother country in
large cities or in rural parishes, who know what
is the condition of an English artisan or an agri-
cultural laborer, know that the memories of a
few years in the Sunday-school will not fit
them, however zealous are the clergy, to under-
stand fully the words read and prayed. And our
Church's words, in her Twenty -fourth Article,
against the use of prayer " not understanded of
the people " should be applied, by all reasonable
force and inference, not only to the use of a dead
language, but to any conditions where the words
T
28
THE UNDERSTANDING PRAYER.
uttered do not convey to tlie liearers a direct
and intelligible meaning. Let us remember that
this is no burning question ; no party conflict is
here apprehended. It is a simple question of
method. How are we to achieve the end incul-
cated by St. Paul, " I wdll pray with the under-
standing," for all those schools of religious
thought which claim a place within the broad
field of the Church of England are eager in pro-
fessed loyalty to our book of Common Prayer ?
Yet each of these sections confesses that there
are some points which admit of beneficial altera-
tion. Indeed, there would be scant prospect of
united action if such modification even remotely
touched upon doctrinal differences. One party,
for instance, now representing a large numerical
proportion, may regard our communion service
as meagre, and may view the concluding rubric
with a dislike that only varies in the candour of
utterance. Others may deplore the ambiguous
use of the w^ord " regeneration " in the service
of baptism, and might desire that the absolution
in the service for the sick should have been ex-
pressed in a declaratory form. Another party
might exclude, or leave in a very solitary back-
ground, the so-called creed of Athanasius. But
it is remarkable, that in every quarter, the abso-
lute need for simplification of divine service has
been recognized, and simple mission services,
under different names and with varying elements
of method, are now the indispensable machinery
of all organized work for Christ.
THE UNDERSTANDING PRAYER. 29
No ; this demand for liturgical revision is no
feverish party cry ; no utterance of crude theor-
ists, or of seekers after notoriety. " / should
think" (wrote the martyred Bishop Patteson)
" that three-fourths of luhat clergymen say is un-
intelligible to the mass of the congregation. We
assume an acquaintance with Bible and Prayer
Book thought, and a knowledge of the meaiiing
of words, rvhich few, alas ! possess." Those who
have been trained, by long use and teaching, to
take an intelligent part in the ordinary public
services of the Church can have no notion of
the difficulty which these services present to
those who have not been so trained. The orderly
succession of confession and absolution, of prayer
and praise, Scripture and creed, so edifying to
the well-instructed Churchman, are often in-
soluble problems to those are without his educa-
tion. Even amongst regular churchgoers the
power of intelligently following the course of
the service is more rare than is commonly sup-
posed. But to the class I am now describing
there are other difficulties — that of even finding
the place, of hard and unusual words ; and every
word is unusual, and therefore hard, which is
outside the ordinary vocabulary.
Then there is the religious and historical
knowledge that is requisite to the proper under-
standing of almost everything that is read and
sung. How much of such knowledge is neces-
sary to take in the meaning of some of the
I
80
THE UNDERSTANDING PRAYER.
Psalms, of the canticles ; the Te Deuw,, for
example, or the Nunc Dimittis ? Some of the
lessons, many, indeed, are simple and beautiful ;
but others are almost unintelligible without
comment, as the prediction of Isaiah was to the
Ethiopian officer. Some which are clear in
themselves depend for their proper understand-
ing on a context, which the ordinary hearers
cannot supply, or on a knowledge of the Bible,
which few now possess. And so many who
have come to our churches, not out of mere
curiosity, but with a fervent desire to worship
and to learn, pass away to other places, or cease
to attend any. Of course it is easy to blame
them, to bring texts of Scripture against them.
They are "forsaking the assembling of them-
selves together, as the ntanner of some is " — the
manner, alas ! of many millions in our greater
cities, and almost the whole of the artisan class
in England. But there is another text which
must sometimes come to our recollection, and
which comes with terrible significance to the
mind of a Christian teacher who strives to do
his work loyally, and within the lines of his
Church— the text (I mean) about ^ the key of
knowledge," and the "kingdom of God," and
" hindering them that luould enter in." Who
but will admit that in all our services there are
portions as clear and intelligible as when first
translated or composed, and that in none is there
any such serious obscurity as that the willing
THE UNDERSTANDING PRAYER. 31
and devout hearer is sent empty away. Who
does not confess that our burial service, in its
perfect and incomparable adaptation of means
to ends, is a " creation for ever," and claims in
but a slightly qualified sense the supreme title
of an inspired work of man. And those who
have listened, whether as participators, or merely
as devout spectators, during the rite of Confirm-
ation, will admit that every feature of that
service, its brevity and simplicity, as well as the
solemnity of its question and pledge, make it
worthy of consecrating the vow of manful
Christian service and the utterance of fervent
conviction.
In some of the occasional services, indeed,
loyal and reverent students of our liturgy have
admitted that abbreviation and simplification
would, at the present day, add largely to their
power as a means of devotional exercise even in
the case of educated worshippers. And this has
been more than once stated with regard to the
service for the public baptism of infants. It is
not the case of a divinity lecturer and his class
that we are considering; it is not that of an
educated congregation in a land where education
is universal, but of those cases known to every
clergyman, in a large city or in a hamlet, where
the service, with all its transcendent truths and
its unutterable and solemn beauties, is yet " not
understanded of the people." How often does a
minister under these circumstances long, as he
m\
32
THE UNDERSTANDING PRAYER.
sees the bewildered sponsors anxiously following
the whispers of the parish official, to lay down
the Prayer Book, and quietly ask the godparents :
"Do you, acknowledge that, token tJtis child
grows up, he is hound to believe in God, and in
our Lord Jesus Christ ? Do you wish him to
he haptized in this faith ?■ Will you promise to
see that he is properly taught his religion and
hi'ought up in the fear of God ? "
Perhaps the answers to these plain questions
would be blunt and unconventional, but better
such questions and answers as these, when they
mean soniething, than the finest in the world,
when they mean nothing.
It may be urged against this plea for the
simplification of some of our services that it is
the Church's duty to educate the people up to
the requirements, and not bring the services
down to the level of the people. Ah ! that
objection would be weighty, indeed, were there
the faintest hope of our being able to educate
the mass of our poor in great cities to an intelli-
gent and appreciative use of our present Prayer
Book. But it is not needful, nor would any
reasonable Christian desire, to displace or modify
all the services in present use. Among them,
and in place of some of them, sometimes, with
permissive and alternative use, might be placed
services which the people could understand
without education ; services which would be
themselves a step in the religious education of
\,
!
I
THE UNDERSTANDING PRAYER.
33
those wlio came to tliem. Surely that Church
wliicli twice in tlie last three centuries has
sanctioned a complete revision of the text of the
Bible itself, might find among her sons those in
whose wisdom and sober judgment she could
place an equal trust, who might with reverent
care remove from our beloved liturgy obsolete
expressions and repetitions no longer helpful.
And, indeed, the Church has already ap-
proached the threshold of this needed reform by
the free and unorudtrinfj admission of services
suited for children, and simple mission services,
whether within the fabric of the Crmrch itself,
or even in the open air. Her temples stand
amongst a great people, a people not hostile to
religion, w\o need its influences, and would
welcome its consolations. Her Gospel has not
changed since the days when it was first
preached to the poor, and the common people
heard her Master gladly. Surely she has now
glad tidings for other classes tlian the educated
and the prosperous. Surely her only want — it
is a want now fully recognized and within our
power of supply — is for the right words to speak
the old message and the old truths; to speak
them to the heart and understanding ; so that
her voice may be, indeed, a living voice to the
world, giving no uncertain sound, and aiding
the utterance of the Spirit's striving in the
hearts of men.
3
THE DAYS OF OLD.
Preached at St. John's Church on the Anniversaru of the
landing of the Loyalists, May ISth, !3'J0, at the request of the
Loyalists' Society.
"Roniombor the fornior things of old." — Lsaiah xlvi. 9.
; ?!*'' i
Man stands upon a narrow istlimus, as it
were, between two dark immensities, the future
and the past. He has the li^ht of God's rev^ela-
tion, partial but sufficient, which shows him the
path before him, teaches him the present dan-
gers and responsibilities, and gives him con-
fidence as to the final goal. But, on the other
side, there is also light — the light of history and
example. That light is of God also, for all
truth comes from Him, although it comes to us
through different channels, and needs our exact
study and our patient research.
There was a mighty truth symbolized in that
ancient fancy which created a Muse of History,
the voice of Divine beauty irradiating the
records of life.
But mightier is the truth, greater the dignity
to us, who receive the foundations of our faith
in history, written by the finger of God. Nor
THE DAYS OF OLD.
85
do we draw hard boundaries and impassable
limits between the history of the Jewish race or
of the Christian Church, and that of other races
and otli^r phases of the world's evolution. The
true student of history, knowing that God is in
the world, recognizes the finger of God in all
creation, in the vicissitudes of every century;
and to him the study and delineation of any
epoch is a solemn thing, it is a priesthood and
ministry, it is the utterance of TRUTH, without
fear and without reproach, for the benefit and
instruction of mankind.
The true student of history can look far be-
yond the special period of which he may be
treating; he perceives forces at work, greater
than the skill of generals, the diplomacy of am-
bassadors, the experience of statesmen, or the
elocjuence of demagogues. He discerns that
reigns and dynasties are but the chapters and
verses in one great book, inseparable parts of
one mighty whole. For these periods of time
and movements of national life are not like so
many isolated lakes, joined merely by the slen-
der stream of a succession or a conquest, but
are waves in one might river, whose winding
course draws its tributaries from every land
and every clime, whose first beginnings are lost
beyond our view among the cloud-clapped moun-
tains of antiquity, and whose irresistible progress
bears us onward, unhasting, unresting towards
the boundless ocean of the future.
m
36
THE DAYS OF OLD.
But though we recognize this great truth of
the Unity of History, we cannot ignore the
superiority, both in attraction, and indeed in
importance, of those periods and those past
events which are bound to us with our own
ancestry and the Hnks of personal feeling.
To the Jew, the descendant in direct course of
Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the appeal of the
prophet Isaiah came as a trumpet call : " Rcnicni'
her the former things of old ! " He recalled, as
if in one long vista of remembrance, a history
that never will know its parallel ; beginning with
the first creative word of God, with the dim and
awful memories of forfeited bliss, tempered by
promised help and salvation.
Then pass across the stage of memory the
stately figures of patriarch, and judge, and
king, and prophet ; the escape from Egyptian
bondage, the wilderness and the promised land ;
the periods of anarchy and the growth of mon-
archy ; David's victories and Solomon's glories ;
the sad decaj'^ after the disruption, when Isaiah's
burning words smote upon their ears.
And do not similar feelings, associations
hardly less vivid and pathetic, arise in the hearts
of many other families in this world of ours ?
If pride in achievements which have left their
indelible mark upon the annals of the world,
which claim the willing echo of other nations'
recognition, may be granted utterance, then
m
nil
THE DAYS OF OLD.
37
niicrht our fatherland and her sons boast, in the
poet's strain of old, of
"This royal throne of kings, tliis sceptred isle,
This fortress built by Nuturo for liorself—
Against infection and the hand of war . . . ;
This precious stone sot in the silver sea .
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm,
this Encrland!"
Nor would the children of other nations lack
causes of proud recollection, whether of present
or past glories; none would refuse the call,
none would endeavor unmoved to "remember
the former things of old!'' But though the
recollection of past triumph is sweet, it is meas-
ured by our present condition. In the most
pathetic scene which ever poet's imagination
conceived, the victim of jealousy and cruel
vengeance says,
" There is no sadder lot,
Than to remember happy days gone by,
In misery now."
But a memory of past sufferings, undergone for
conscience or loyalty's sake, conveys a glow
which is not that of mere pride, mere self-
satisfaction.
When the Protestant of France recalls the
days when his forefathers relinquished all that
makes life dear in their well-loved country— for
conscience' sake, he thinks not of the lands and
38
THE DAYS OF OLD.
'Ill
ilii
wealth abandoned, but of the crown of joy en-
sured. All bitterness of recollection has van-
ished ; he can review dispassionately the politi-
cal causes which inevitably led to what was, in
itself, the crowning error of the great monarch,
the cruel and self-inflicted wound in the pros-
perity of the nation. Even in the time of bitter
separation itself, love of the country could sur-
mount and suppress all vengeful feeling, all
sense of personal wrong.
And so we read how the great preacher
Saurin, himself an exile for the sake of Jesus
Christ, preaching to a congregation of exiles,
could pray for the king himself who had driven
them from home and country; could pray for his
prosperity as well as for his conversion, could
implore from the Throne of Grace that he who
had been the instrument of its wrath might
become the minister of its grace and bounty.
And if, when the two greatest principles of
humanity, religion and loyalty, were seemingly
brought into conflict., it was possible to maintain
the one without abandoning the other: how
much more conspicuous are the examples of
loyalty, when faith and country are the same ;
when, in spite of disaster, they remain
" True as the dial to the sun,
Although they be not shined upon."
This day our thoughts are called to " remem-
ber the former things of old — events which
THE DAYS OF OLD.
39
occupy a bright page in our country's liistory,
and which, to all inhabitants of this province,
and to many away, you with a still more inti-
mate and personal feeling, come with a sense of
solemn remembrance and bright example.
More than a hundred years ago your ancestors
gave up home, and all its associations, for the
sake of a principle ; not a mere political theory,
about which men may argue for victory, but a
belief which was a Faith, that which embodied
itself in consistent action, which surmounted all
self-interest, and consecrated the purpose of life.
It would be easy, it would be tempting to use
the words of simple panegyric. These would
be no mere platitudes, they would be truth.
But history has a higher function than the
distribution of praise and blame : she searches
out the Causes, so far as they are discoverable,
of those mighty unseen forces which move the
world and make our annals. To paint the Loy-
alists in monotonous hues of praise ; to im])ly
that their opponents were actuated by evil
motive, disloyalty for its own sake, would be as
unworthy of this place as of the good men and
brave citizens whom we commemorate to day.
" Paint me as I am," said Oliver Cromwell to
the flattering artist who would fain have soft-
ened his rough outlines and destroyed all his
individuality.
And we, looking back through the vista of an
eventful century, are able to dissociate ourselves
40
THE DAYS OF OLD.
I I
from its passion." and its party-cries, and to
recognize how here, as ever, there had been noble
purpose and truth on both sides of the conflict,
like the fabled conflict of the knights about
the shield with its golden and silvern sides.
Remember that the noblest minds in our father-
land were always opposed to that suicidal
policy which alienated the American colonies.
A month before hostilities began, the greatest
Englishman of his age, Edmund Burke, in that
oration on *' Conciliation \vith America " which
stands as an imperishable monument of elo-
quence and political foresight, said :
"Our hold of the colonies is in the close affection
which grows from common iiiimes, from kindred blood,
from similar privileges, and ei^ual protection. These are
ties which, though light as air, are strong as links of
iron. As long as you have the wisdom to keep the
sovereign authority of this country as the sanctuary of
liberty, the sacred temple consecrated to our common
faith, wherever the chosen race and sons of England
worship freedom, they will turn their faces towards you.
The more they multiply, the more friends you will have ;
the more ardently they love liberty, the more perfect
will be their obedience."
But his was the voice of one crying in the
wilderness ; scorn and contempt were hurled
upon the colonists whose English blood impelled
them to demand English constitutional liberties.
Their arguments were ignored, their protests
regarded as sedition. No one listened when
Burke exclaimed :
THE DAYS OF OLD.
41
"Magnanimity in politics is not seldom the truest
wisdom ; and a great empn'e and little minds go ill
together. If we are conscious of our situation, and glow
with zeal to till our phice as becomes our station and
ourselves, we ought to ausjjicate all our public proceed-
ings in America with the old warning of the Church :
Sursum corda ! Lift up your hearts ! We ought to
elevate our minds to the greatness of that trust to which
the order of Providence has called us."
Alas, the hearts of men were not lifted up, but
were debased by pride, and ignorance, and hatred.
But the crime was to bring its penalty.
" Those tvhom God iviJt destroy," ran the old
adage, " He first deprives of reason." And so
England paid the penalty of her ignorance, of
not having known the time of her visitation, by
the loss of an empire. That is the bright side
of American independence, that which is recog-
nized now by every candid thinker. It was that
which caused Chatham to declare that, were he
an American as he was an Englishman, he would
never lay down his arms. It is that which
enables us, now to view the marvellous growth in
power and prosperity of the great American
Republic with no narrow jealousy, no retrospec-
tive grudges. To them, our brethren in blood and
faith, we look with sympathy and affection ; and
if the American citizen who worships in our
churches hears no specific prayer for his country
and its rulers, yet for them as for all constituted
authorities in other lands, our supplication is
raised : " That it may please Thee to bless and
!|
42
THE DAYS OF OLD.
keep all Thy people : that it may please Tliee to
give to all nations unity, peace and concord."
So much then, for the impartial voice of his-
tory on one side. What has she to say for those
on the other ; those who did not snare, or would
not carry to the bitter end, the aspirations for
independence ; those above all, who — like Non-
Jurors and Royalists of olden times, would suffer
any wrong, any oppression, rather than infringe
the lightest prerogative of the crown.
What were their sufferings ? With that same
candor with which we have acknowledged the
justice of the claims they opposed, we must admit
the bigotry from which they suffered. The Puri-
tanism of the seventeenth century, which had
vindicated religious liberty against Bancroft
and Laud, experienced the unusual fate which
too often attends a change from suffering to
power. A contraction of character, acquired under
oppression, too often breeds tyranny, when force is
at command ; the lesson of mercy was not learned,
nor the example of forgiveness. Thence came
cruel persecutions of ministers and other mem-
bers of our Church, not to be dwelt on bitterly,
but not to be forgotten.
Thence arose those outrages, nameless and
numberless, which an able writer, • himself an
American in birth and sympathy, denounces in
language which does honor alike to his candor
and wisdom :
"On whose cheek," concludes this writer,
THE DAYS OF OLD.
43
" should have been the blush of shame, when the
habitations of the aged and feeble were sacked,
and no refuge was left but the woods ! When the
innocent luere outraged, and foul words spoken
to women ? " And the wild outrages of mobs
and lawless individuals were sanctioned, alas !
by the acts of legislative bodies; confiscation,
imprisonment, and even death, being inflicted
for acts which, at any period of sober fairness,
would have been regarded as venial or innocent.
But we turn gladly from the sadder pages, to
those where nothing of recrimination is implied,
and where we ca:i recount actions of which we
may indeed be proud, and of which those friends
who once were adversaries will echo the appro-
bation.
May not the Church of England remember
the name of Inglis with honor, who, threatened
with violence, yet hesitated not to read the
prayers for the King he honored and wad bound
to serve, although armed soldiers filled the
church ?
May not you, also, recount the sufferings,
endurance and earnest purpose of your ances-
tors, who bade farewell to a land where they
had worthily filled high oflSce and noble station,
and prepared to seek the new home in the
unknown land ?
Might they not apply to such men of pure
loyalty, and steadfast faith, the words of our
second lesson of to -night :
44
THE DAYS OF OLD.
" And if indeed they had been mindful of that
country from which they went out, they would
have had opportunity to return. But now they
desire a better country, that is, a heavenly ;
wherefore God is not ashamed of them, to be
called their God ; for He hath prepared for them
a city."
If there be one principle which can find a firai
and consistent anchorage in the precepts of Holy
Scripture, it is that of loyalty.
The kingdom which Christ came to establish
was not of this world ; He stood outside the
turmoil of national aspirations and regrets ; He
enjoined and even provided for the payment of
the hateful tribute ; He commanded that all
should render unto Caesar the things that were
his ; He fled when His followers, with misguided
enthusiasm, would have made Him an earthly
king !
And St. Paul uttered no uncertain sound, in
his more abstract teaching. Though at that
time, a Nero was on the throne of the Caesars,
though all personal attraction to the principle of
loyalty was impossible ; though cruelty and lust
and oppression were the rules of government, —
genius and probity in disgrace and danger, yet
no word of hesitating loyalty escaped the lips of
the great apostle, no syllable from which riot or
sedition, or lukewarm fidelity even, could
extract the faintest support.
Other maxims, indeed, unknown to the earlier
THE DAYS OF OLD.
45
civilization, are accepted alike by rulers and
subjects in lands which enjoy the benefit of
constitutional government. Supplementary, not
contradictory, are these truths; abolishing
primeval errors, amending imperfect concep*^
tions, profiting by the experience of ages, but
never abrogating the ancient truths of faith and
constancy and loyalty.
" My son," said the wise teacher of old, " fear
thou God and the king," and when St. Paul
quoted the words to the Thessalonians, it proved
that their truth had borne the test of many
centuries.
Much has changed, much will change in
time to come, customs of men, and forms of
thought; systems of government and laws, as
even the hills and valleys experienced an unseen
change under the unceasing influences of the
elements. " All things change;' it has been said,
" and we are changed ivith them," but like the
mariner's compass in the stormy night, there is
for us a point of ^xity, a rule of conduct, a path
of safety, and that is in what Scripture calls
the "single eye," the faith which God can bestow
and by which alone man can be saved.
We are making the history of our own age,
as those your ancestors made the history which
you remember. In days to come, this age will
be past, and itself the subject of judgment.
The children yet unborn will pnss judgment
on your lives, on your actions. May it be ours
46
THE DAYS OF OLD.
SO to work while it is day, so to render their
just due to God and Caesar, that our posterity
may recall with pride the example of their
ancestry, and our children shall arise and call
us blessed, when they remember the former
things of old.
Note. — It is gratifying to find that the more recent
American historians are doing full justice to the merits
as well as the difficulties of the Loyalists. In Professor
Tyler's * ' Literary History of the Revolution, " the following
significant passage is to be found: "Even yet in this
last decade of the nineteenth century, it is by no means
easy for Americans — especially if, as is the case with the
present writer, they be descended from men who thought
and fought on behalf of the Revolution — to take a dis-
interested attitude, that is, an historical one, to those
Americans who thought and fought against the Revolu-
tion, Both as to the men and as to the questions
involved in that controversy, the rehearsal of the claims
of the victorious side has been going on among us, now
for a hundred years or more, in tradition, in history, in
oration, in song, in ceremony. Hardly have we known,
seldom have we been reminded, that the side of the
Loyalists, as they called themselves, of the Tories, as
they were scornfully nicknamed by their opponents, was
even in argument not a weak one, and in motive and
sentiment not a base one, and in devotion and self-sacri-
fice not an unheroic one " (p. 296).
CHURCH MUSIC.
Preached at Christ Church, Susfiex, N.B., on the occasion of
the annual service of the Kingston Deanery Choral Association,
June 10th, 1890.
**0 praise God in his holiness : praise him in the firma-
nient of his power.
Praise him in his no})le acts : praise him according to his
excellent greatness.
Praise him in the sound of the trumpet: praise him upon
the lute and harp.
Praise him in the cymbals and dances : praise him upon
the strings and pipe.
Praise him upon the well-tuned cymbals: praise him
upon the loud cymbals.
Let every thing that hath breath : praise the Lord."
— Psalm, cl.
When we accurately survey the principles
of divine service; when we realize the two
great objects to which that service owes its
reason of existence, namely, the duty of worship
and the need of spiritual food ; when we under-
stand that all outward form and ceremonial has
and can have but one legitimate principle,
ordained and approved by God, namely, the
attainment of decency, order and edification;
then we can advance further to the consideration
of those accessories, such as the choir and the
48
CHURCH MUSIC.
i.i
h ;
pulpit, seokin<^ to estimate their due place, their
real proportion and vahrj in the fabric of divine
.service, so that we may use them duly, to the
glory of God and the benefit of our own souls.
And to-day I would speak of music. What
does music give us ? Is it a mere food for the
senses, a pleasing irritation of the ears ? Surely
more, far more. For between sensation and
expressed utterance there is an interval, and
there music has her sphere. There are feelings
too deep for words, and there she speaks. There
are what St, Paul called unspeakable words, and
she can convey them to our souls. Aristotle
drew the acute distinction between the things
seen as objects of perception, and things heard,
which are objects of similitude ; and so from
music we can learn by similitude some of the
joys of the heavenly places. Never has music
lost her place in worship, since the days of the
Psalmist, since the days when Jesus and His
disciples " sang a hymn," since the days when
St. Paul bade his beloved Ephesians " sing and
make melody in their hearts," since the days
that St. James, most practical of teachers, bade
his hearers express their joy in the singing of
Psalms.
Detached utterances in early writers tell us of
congregational music, set to words of the ver-
nacular, and this music of the people was organ-
ized by the great Ambrose of Milan. And it
survived even the reactionary efforts of Gregory,
CHURCH MISIC.
40
wliose .system, cjirriod to a logical extroine, would
liave deprived the con^re<]fation of its birtliri<jht,
and reduced it to tlie position of mere audience.
But tlie popular element could not be suppressed,
and the Middle A^^es gave birth to innnortal
hynnis, such as the Stahnf Mtitev, and that
famous hymn by Thomas of Celano, which is tlie
possession of all churches. But it was the Refor-
mation which reinstate<l the work of Ambrose,
and "sang itself into the hearts of the people."
Next to the open Bible, the hymn-book was the
weapon of Luther. And the advance in musical
art, above all the discovery of harmony and its
functions, added infinitely to the treasury of
dev^otion. And so church music advanced ; its
history is the history of music, for each great
comjioser has reached his zenith in the dedication
of his genius to the service of religion. So John
Sebastian Bach, the Leipzig organist, and later
the patriarch of music, covering the whole field
of his art, and adorning all that he touched, like
the Venetian school of painting conjoined perfect
color to draughtmanship, so he allied melody to
strictest counterpoint ; and he reached his high-
est point in the Passion Music, a true people's
oratorio, in which chorales for the assembled
multitude were interspersed amid the master-
pieces of scientific execution. So Handel, given
by Germany to England, after he had absorbed
all that Italian education could furnish, turns
at last to oratorio, and leaves his imperishable
4
60
CIIUIICII MUSIC.
111!
1 1
inonuiiH'nt in "I.smol in E<^'ypt," tlio " Mensiah,"
" Jiulas JMaccabous," and " Jephtluili."
And Mozart, most wonderful genius, wlio liad
exhausted with liia masterpieces every form of
musical composition, came at last to the Requiem^
written in reality for himself when the ancient
words were clothe<l with a new life, and " Dona
vohis pacevi " was a prayer the fulfilment of
which God granted soon to the child of genius.
And so Haydn culminates with his " Creation,"
and Beethoven with the " Mount of Olives,"
and Mendelssohn with " Elijah." And if, in
some respects, English composers seem to occupy
a lower rank, at least in church music, the names
of Boyce, and Purcell, and Tallis, and Samuel
Wesley worthily maintain the noblest traditions
of accurate science and true devotion.
And now we turn to our special topic: the
place of music in public worship. At once the
old antagonism of Ambrosian and Gregorian
systems is evoked — choral or congre ' ' ^nal.
"Let all be done to edifyinp^'' .at is the
rule : not my personal taste, (, .rs. Are we
not to give good gifts to God ? Then why not
the trained singer or organist his skill, acquired
by patient labour upon original aptitude ? Look
at the place of a minister in the Protestant ser-
vice. He is the representative of the people.
He utters many prayers alone ; yet who com-
plains because all do not repeat with him ? At
the confession, and in some churches at the
n^fSH
CHURCH MUSIC.
51
general thanksgiving, all join. But at times lie
prays alone, and alone he expounds from the
authority of his appointment. And so, in the
ideal service there is a place, in due proportion,
for the choir, for the chorus, the (piartette, and
even the solo. If a trained and perfect voice
chants * I know that my Redeemer liveth,' it
will not add devotion to the effect if I destroy
art by joining my own untutored strains. The
Beauty of Holiness does not mean the mere
chaos of universal utterance. But with that
admission, admitting that there is a place in the
Church for musical art, and for restriction, so
that we sing with our souls for a time, listening
to those who sing with voice, yet there is also
place for the song of all the people. No church
music has reached its ideal if that be neglected ;
for even on artistic grounds that means to sacri-
fice the effect of background and of foundation,
without which the more delicate work of the
choir will lack relief and substance. Bach and
Mendelssohn recognized this in those oratorios
which are essentially religious. And it is for us
to elevate this essential branch of church music
by aiming at true musical education of our chil-
dren. It should accompany, if not precede, the
alphabet. Then we might well restrict the choir
in narrower limits, since the congregation could
be a choir itself, harmonizing the strains of
heartfelt hymns in melody ascending to the
throne of God.
11 II
! 1
'":
52
CHURCH MUSIC.
And one more argument for the separated
choir is that it recognizes the place of woman as
an active minister in the service of God. Not
merely on artistic grounds, not merely because
the boy can seldom, if ever, realize the emotion
or possess the requisite skill, but becau ^ the
admission into our chancels of God's daucrhters
witnesses to their right to devote their gifts to
Him, their right to aid in public worship, their
sphere, which can be sanctified into a fit prepara-
tion for that other choir where the new song
shall be sung before the Lamb of God.
Let us not fear criticism or derision, while
we cultivate this gift of God, and endeavor
that the offering we make shall be the richest
that our powers can offer. But guard against
any separation of the artistic from the devo-
tional. For t!ie penalty is certain and disastrous.
It was upon his knees that Bach sought inspira-
tion for his great works ; and he prayed by the
side, of his organ stool before he performed his
might}^ fugues. It was in tears that Mozart
composed his Regit ie'tn, and God was very near
him, as he caught the inspiration of more than
human strains. As an infinite gulf separates the
sermon which is mere exercise in rhetoric from
the heartfelt exhortation ; so if you sing from
lips only, or for admiration only, or even
artistic temperament only, it is but an in-
ferior standard that ever can be yours. Make
melody in your hearts unto God ; and then He
CHURCH MUSIC.
53
who bestows His perfect gifts, shall give you
strength more than your own, and a jwwer that
shall enter and subdue our hearts.
And if that be true for the choir, how much
more for the congregation ? If you demand a
greater scope for this element, see that it comes
forth from your very heart of hearts, We cannot
always enter into every thought and aspiration
of a hymn ; but we can feel what we sing. How
terrible a mockery if we have neither the attrac-
tion of art nor the plea of religion ; if we aing
neither with understanding nor devotion, a mere
recital of words we do not trouble to understand,
to notes that awake no answering emotion. But
it is not so with us ; indeed, that would be a
disastrous state where the hymn was an artificial
proceeding, where no sense of devotion followed
such lines as :
'• Teach )iie to live that I may dread
TJie grave as little as my bed ;
Teach me to die, that so I may
Rise glorious at that awful day."
In our plans of reunion there are many diffi-
culties yet, and many battles to fight. But
surely there is encouragement when we remem-
ber that if teachings differ, and liturgical
theories, so many strains of solenm praise are
common to all worshippers. There high church-
man and low churchman agree, Calvinist and
Arminian, even to some extent, Rome and the
54
CHURCH MUSIC.
Reformation. Examine the hymn-books. There
was never a narrower Calvinist than Toplady,
yet show me the liymn-book, which does not
contain, which would dare to exclude " Rock of
ages, cleft for me ; " Keble, even in these latter
days, would be deemed an advanced High
Churchman, yet show irr the collection which
has not the magnificent " Sun of my soul, thou
Saviour dear." Perhaps we might say that their
authors were lifted out of themselves, as they
wrote those almost inspired strains, above them-
selves, into a purer atmosphere, a deep;.T sphere
of conception and faitli.
Yes, it is a good gift, a perfect boon for which
we praise God. Received from Him in His
mercy, the gift of utterance and the gift of
harmony, we lay them this day at His footstool.
" All things come of Thee (so teaches the Old
Testament, as the New), and of Thine own have
have we given Thee." Our feeble efforts will be
accepted by God. He will strengthen us, and
prepare us for the great scene of praise and
harmony, when we shall join in the music of the
songs of heaven, with angels and archangels,
saints and martyrs, and every creature in heaven
and earth and sea, singing : " Unto Him that
sitteth upon the throne and unto the Lamb, be
blessing and honor and glory, and dominion, for
ever and ever."
THE LOST LEADER.
A sermon preached at St. John's Church, on September 7th, 1S90,
after the decease of Cardinal Neicman.
*' And the king said unto his servants, Know ye not
tliat there is a prince and a great man fallen this day
ni Israel ? "—2 Samuel iii. 38.
One by one the great men who heave illus-
trated the nineteenth century are passing away,
and soon that century, with all its achievements
and failures, will be the historian's material.
One poet and one statesman alone remain of the
great names which made history before some of
us were born, and soon the Laureate of Eng-
land will have joined the singers who have
gone before, will rest with Shakespeare and
Milton and Wordsworth. And in another field
of thought and labour, here also the great
ones are gone before. Of the leaders of the
Evangelical school, the men who had shared in
the great revival of the last century, few lived
into the next age. Newton and Cecil hardly
saw the dawn of the new century. Wilberforce,
the champion of liberty and piety; Hannah
More, teacher and example of Christian sim-
plicity; Henry Venn, third in generation of an
il
56
THE LOST LEADER.
i m
i
1,! l!l
ii,-
honored family,— these survived to witness the
painful reaction towards worldliness and spirit-
ual deadness, and to realize the new forces
which from different sides of the field, endeav-
oured to fight the battle of truth. But even
these later champions of the new causes have in
their turn passed away. Whately's sterling
sense, Arnold's catholic spirit, Thirwall's philo-
sophic insight, Kingsley's burning sympathy
for suffering and indignation against wrong, and
Maurice, to so many the prophet of his age, all
these have passed away and left the speaking
witness of their words and works. And in that
other camp, so different in claims and conclu-
sions, so powerful for good or for evil in our
century, the great ones are also at rest. Keble,
the sweet singer of the Church, is joined to the
choirs invisible ; and his friend Pusey, after a
life of controversy, leaving behind the censures
of opponents and the enthusiastic praise of par-
tisans, has entered into peace.
Last of all there has passed away in these
days one who was endued with many talents,
talents in their combined scope perhaps un-
equalled, blessed with that supreme magnetism
of character which forces admiration from foes,
and love — almost adoration — from friends, and
yet one whose career, viewed now as a whole,
leaves oit the mind an impression of splendid
failure, of solutions sought with every sacrifice
and never found, of a personality which con-
THE LOST LEADER.
57
quercd as with a magician's cliarm, but which
has spoken no message that could teach the
world, and has left no example to give it
strength.
Although the life of Cardinal Newman has
but lately closed, we are in a better position to
judge it than in the case of many men long after
death. For nearly a generation he had passed
from the scene of active affairs, and of the early
period, when his name was on every lip and his
career seemingly the very crisis of E. glish
Church history ; of this epoch we have almost
a literature at hand, and above all, the autobi-
ography of the central figure himself.
When John Henry Newman came into tlie
world, wars and rumours of wars overpowered
every other cause and claim. Religious ques-
tions seemed cast into the background. The old
antagonism of the parties in the Church had
calmed. If any theological influence can be
said to have been then effective, it was that of
the Evangelical revival, still claiming some of
its famous representatives and still speaking
forth its great message with something of the
old fervour and faith.
But the gradual departure of great leaders of
thought, and the weakening of definite opinion,
led too surely to the preference of supposed
" safeness," and a moderation which was the
result rather of mental limitation than of the
heart's expansion. Newman did not overstate the
I
I m
1
t i
1
II)!'
! .
1
58
THE LOST LEADER.
case when, in a famous passage in his later writ-
ings, he declared : " A man who can set down
half a dozen general propositions, which escape
from destroying one another only by being
diluted into truisms, who can hold the balance
between opposites so skilfuly as to do without
fulcrum or beam, who never enunciates a truth
without guarding himself againgst being sup-
posed to exclude the contradictory — this is your
safe man and the hope of the Church, this is
what the Church is said to want, not party men,
but sensible, temperate, sober, well judging per-
sons, to guide it through the channel of no-
meaning, between the Scylla and Charybdis of
Aye and No."
But there were still in the world those who
feared not the alternative of Aye and No, and
it is significant that, of these, it was Thomas
Scott, the once famous commentator, of whom
the future Cardinal declares that " to him I al-
most owe my soul." The boy was deeply in-
fluenced by Scott's resolute unworldliness, and
by the " minutely practical character of his
writings." His was a receptive mind, for we
find him eagerly drawn, when a student at Ox-
ford, to the teaching and personality of Richard
Whately, and yet full of veneration for the
almost opposite character of Keble. The one
acute, logical almost to hardness, using irony in
support of faith, and as much offending as pleas-
ing by his humor; the other gentle, retiring.
THE LOST LEADER.
59
e
preferring the holy satisfaction of his pastoral
life in the country to all that the university
could bestow in honor and emolument, loved by
the most opposite minds, respected by all, and
yet from his lips was to proceed the first cry of
the new party.
It was a time in the history of religion that a
new movement was unavoidable, was necessary.
Anything is better than stagnation, for stagna-
tion in religion means death. Anything is
better — better even the Crusades, or the wander-
ing Flagellants, or the barefooted friars, or the
eccentricities of Shakers and Ranters, than the
reign of time-servers and hypocrites, of supposed
" safe men " who ever fight with the bigger bat-
talions, who never espouse an unpopular cause,
nor aspire to that special blessing which belongs
to those persecuted for righteousness' sake.
It was a time when neglect in the out-
ward decency of divine service had reached
a degree incredible and disgraceful, when
pluaralities were common, when absentee rec-
tors lived in ease in Italy and delegated to
starving curates the souls of thousands; when
Bishops were appointed by the Prime Min-
ister as a reward for political zeal, and the
Church seemed to be the herald of comfort-
able doctrine, and to furnish a passport to a
rich man's heaven. The Evangelical School had
witnessed against these evils boldly and unceas-
ingly, and had in many respects mitigated them;
60
THE LOST LEADER.
V ■■ III
lli!
but their efforts concentrated upon the work of
savini^ souls, liad ahnost disref^jarded the coni-
parativ^ely less important matters So when at
the memorable Conference at Hadleigh in 1833,
Hugh James Rose, Keble, Newman, Froude and
Percival met to discuss the needs of the times
and the action to be taken, they had a field and
a work before them which might well have
enlisted the combined enthusiasm of the whole
Church. Unhappily, it was a party and not the
whole Church that undertook the work, and of
that party Newman was soon the recognized
and absolute chief. He had passed already
through many phases of opinion. He had left
behind the first evangelical influences of Ro-
maine and Scott ; he had passed beyond the
sober and old-fashioned churchmanship of Haw-
kins, the great Provost of Oriel. There was no
one to whom he could look as a leader, all who
inclined to the side of political liberty were his
abhorrence, and yet he was to be the revolution-
ist of his Church. Never was man so much in
need of tolerance, and yet so devoid of possess-
ing the quality. In one of his first sermons he
said : " It would be a gain to the country were
it vastly more superstitious, more bigoted, more
gloomy, more fierce in its religion than at pres-
ent. In the first page of the first " Tract for
the Times" he declared that he "could not
wish for the bishops a more blessed termination
of their course than the spoiling of their goods
THE LOST LEADER.
Gl
and martrydom." Not even Torquemada could
have improved upon another statement, that the
" Heresiarch should meet witli no mercy . . .
to spare him —a false and dangerous pit}'," and
these views were expressed with a vigour that
alienated friends as much as it inflated adver-
saries.
Hurrell Froude, one of the leading spirits of
the movement, denounced the Reformers of the
sixteenth century as miscreants. The whole
Reformation had been a fractured limb so badly
set that it needed to be broken again. There
was no conscious approximation to Rome as yet.
Xewman himself still believed the Pope to be
anti-Christ, and wrote and spoke bitterly of
Rome for many years ; indeed, nearly till the
great surrender itself. So little do we know
our future.
But for a time, it seemed that a halting place
and firm ground was reached. It seemed that
the Church of England could be proclaimed the
via media, removed by impassable chasm from
Rome and Protestantism. There had been
bishops of the Church, like Andrewes and Laud,
who had believed this possible and logical. It
needed only some industry and much boldness.
It needed only to ignore the history of the
Reformation and the writings of the Reformers.
It needed only to construct a patchwork the-
ology, composed of this fragment from the hom-
ilies, and that from the Prayer Book, ignoring
h\
If'
i .
r
62
THE LOST LEADER.
all that went before and beside and after; it
needed only to select from illustrious writers
passages which agreed, and to omit the context.
And so, Newman, when at this stage of develop-
ment, could claim (as he says) " with Bramhall,
the right of holding a comprecation with the
saints ; and the mass, all but transubstantiation,
with Andrewes, or with Hammond, that a
general council, truly such, never did or shall
err in a matter of faith ; or, with Thorndike,
that penance is a propitiation for post-baptismal
sin." That is, that the obiter dicta of these
writers, speaking without any other than per-
sonal authority, could override the direct teach-
ing of the Articles and Prayer Book, the clear-
voiced custom of three centuries of Anglican
practice, and could furnish a satisfactory ground-
work for reasonable men. That it was not
sufficient, even for its upholders, the issue of the
Tracts proclaimed. The earlier numbers of this
famous publication excited little suspicion, for
nothing was asserted beyond what the Prayer
Book, especially the Catechism and Ordination
services of our Church, maintained, nothing con-
trary to the Articles. Bishops rejoiced over the
proclamation of an apostolic succession, and the
representatives of the old High Church party
applauded the attacks upon evangelical views
which they had vainly discouraged.
In vain Evangelicals raised a warning cry that
this new " middle way " was only the way to
THE LOST LEADER.
63
Rome. But in the be^innincj of the year 1836
the theories of the new seliool found expression
in practice and opportunity of testing their
strength. The strenuous, though futile, attempt
to convict Dr. Hampden of heresy, and later to
hinder his appointment to a bishopric, showed
the extent of the movement and its acquired
force.
Arnold came into the lists with his famous
essay on the " Oxford Malignants," comparing
the Tractarians to the Judaizing opponents of
St. Paul. But the Tracts continued. From the
71st, came selections from the Fathers con-
cerning Baptismal Regeneration and the Apos-
tolical Succession, while the preface to the
" Library of the Fathers " declared that although
the Old and New Testaments are the source of
doctrine, the Catholic Fathers are the channel
through which that doctrine comes to us. The
75th Tract recommended the partial use of the
Roman Breviary as full of devotional value.
Still more significant was the utterance of Tract
80, where the practice of Reserve in communi-
cating religious truth was inculcated. Keble,
in the 89th, advocated the mystical interpre-
tation of Scripture favoured by the Fathers.
But still there was one obstacle in the path hard
to remove.
At that time not only ordained ministers, but
graduates of our universities were expected to
sign the Thirty-nine Articles of the Church of
04
THE LOST LEADEH.
li
1
England, and to express "assent and consent" to
all the teacliin<^s contained in tlieni. Notwith-
standing tlie most cynical hint expressed in the
])eclaration appended in the days of Laud, that
only the grannnatical and literal sense, not the
intended force and scope were to he regarded,
no conscientious mind but realized that here a
mighty barrier was reared right across the way
to Home, that here opinions were expressetl, some
indeed (as in the 1 7th Article on Predestination)
very guardedly, and admitting of more than one
explanation; but elsewhere, and everywhere con-
cerning Roman errors, as clear, palpable and
unmistakable, as the rugged English of a plain-
spoken age could make it. Against that barrier
it needed, indeed, a mighty effort. Newman
himself might have shrunk from the task. But
in February, 1841, came forth the famous Tract
XC, and the astonished Church of England
learned that this supposed Protestant bulwark
was worse than useless. It admitted every one
of the tenets it was supposed to exclude.
It was not known indeed then, as we now
know from the "' Apologia,'' that at the time of
publication of Tract XC, Newman was not con-
fident about his permanent adhesion to the
Anglican creed. But even while appalled by
the supremely ingenious dialectic which ex-
plained aw^ay each difficulty, the common hon-
esty and common sense of England rose indig-
nantly in protest. In our Mother Country, as
THE LOST LEADER.
65
in the «l}iu«^ht('ri'.ationH, we know that Ji minor-
ity always lias sympathy and fair play. Had
the Tractarians boldly ])roteyted against the
Articles, ha<l they dared the law as their de-
scendants in our times have done, the wider
public would have looked on with an amused
surprise, not luimixed with a sort of sympathy.
Or had they pleaded the wide area of a national
Church, and conceded the liberty on other sides
which they claimed on their own, the noblest
minds would have enlisted on their behalf, or
at least would have pleaded for their innnunity.
But the Tractarians, as well as their suc-
cessf>rs, have always claimed the in(|uisitors
rif^hts as well as the martyr's glory. Men who
could only justify their position in the Church
by expedients like the logic of Tract XC, were
ever the first to persecute and the last to be
silent.
But their great disaster was at hand. Their
leader, he who had just given them a sure title
deed, as they claimed, in the Protestant Church ;
he who had proved that when the Articles de-
chired that a general council may err, that meant
that, if rightly summoned; it was infallible ; that
an Article, which declared the "sacrifices of
masses to be blasphemous fables and dangerous
deceits," clearly admitted the Mass, and the
doctrine of sacrifice ; that the Article which de-
clared the Invocation of Saints to be a "fond
thing vainly invented," only deprecated its
5
M
l!
66
THE LOST LEADER.
excess ; he, himself, the contriver of this proof,
he, the champion of the party, was already
doubtful, already was abandoning his theory of
a via media, already had meditated the possi-
bility of his future step.
Some have urged that a kinder and wiser
policy on the part of the rulers of the Church
might have averted the crisis and saved New-
man from his course. Even if this be true, as it
is possible of the minor lights of the Trac-
tarian movement, it could not have availed for
him. Like Turnus, in his last combat, it was
not the lethal weapon of the adversary, but the
evil destiny in the air. And as it was neither
cowardice, nor rankling spite at supposed in-
justice, nor disappointed ambition that prompted
his departure, neither was it any mere superficial
attraction in the church he joined. It was no
attachment to mere outward ritual, for at that
time questions of ornament were hardly debated
in the controversy, and later Newman himself,
in his trenchant phrase, disavowed the slightest
attraction for what he styled the " gilt ginger-
bread of ritualism." No, there were deeper
causes at work, it was the great primordial ques-
tion which lies at the root of all religion, after
we have assured ourselves of God and Heaven,
authority or private judgment.
All the previous labours of the Tractarians
had been the efforts of private judgment to con-
struct a seeming external authority which might
I
THE LOST LEADER.
67
Ins
In-
enable them to repudiate the real external claims
of the law regulating an established church.
Only Rome could offer a refuge for a mind
which sought to abandon its birthright of private
judgment and seek the anodyne of external in-
fallibility. And so he went to Rome.
Not here shall one word of controversy be
uttered against the communion that gained then
a mind so richly gifted. Macaulay was a Pro-
testant to the backbone, but his honest historical
insight taught him how great a fact is the
Cliurch of Rome, how deeply its roots are yet
fixed in the instincts, needs, and aspirations of a
vast portion of the human race. Whatever we
hope and strive for, the weapons of our warfare
shall not be the empty clangour of abuse. Is
it not a fact for us Canadians to ponder on, that
the power of Rome seems to increase its sway
in the new world, even though losing it in the
old ? Is there not something which extorts a
silent tribute, as we see the poor in their thou-
sands hearing in those temples an obscured and
fettered gospel, but still at times the name of
Jesus Christ?
Or when we have visited Italy and stand at
the threshold of that mighty fane, the triumph
of Michael Angelo and Bramante, whe the
spectator sees his fellow-man dwindled to a
speck in the distance, and above him, around the
dome, the great inscription Tu es Pctrus, words
so often quoted at Rome, so little understood.
ill
68
THE LOST LEADER.
Who has not fallen under the spell ? But Rome
is more than this.
There are some rivers taking their source
amid the ineffable purity of Alpine snows, fer-
tilizing and helping for navigation vast tracts of
country, but at last gaining no fresh tributaries,
and losing their volume and force in branches,
they end in muddy flats and foetid marshes.
So the Church of Rome, sprung from divinest
origin, its history the most enthralling, its cata-
logue of saints and martyrs innumerable, its
civilizing work in the Middle Ages an immortal
title to the world's gratitude, but now decaying,
having lost the weight and power of Germanic
thought, having almost lost the keen instincts
and energies of the Latin races, having lost
at last the old confidence of Baronius and
Bellarmine, having abandoned the appeal to
history, all her greatest men lost — Dollinger
exiled before he died, Strossmayer silenced or
gazed at askance with veiled suspicion, left in
Rome, at least, to intriguers and obscurantists; a
Pope liberal and enlightened, forced into com-
pliance by his camarilla with precedents which
he must despise. And there lived Newman for
nearly fifty years.
What is the achievement of that period ?
What but the labored retractation of all that
had gone before. When one thinks of the
splendid genius, one asks what might it not
have performed ? " Sed Dis aliter visuin."
; 1
THE LOST LEADER.
69
He published a " Gr«ammar of Assent," which it
has been recently said " furnishes an apparatus
for quieting your belief of things of whicli there
is not sufficient evidence, and of the truth of
which you do not at heart feel assured." Once,
and only once, he stirred the sympathies of the
world in repelling the unwise and uncharitable
taunt which Kingsley, in an unhappy moment,
cast upon his character. The taunt was, perhaps,
not unjustified, but the world rightly felt that it
was not " meet to be set down."
The " Apologia " is not only an English classic,
but a treatise of human psychology most won-
derful, most true, and he who reads it will
realize what a heart was buried in the Oratory
at Edgbaston, and how much love is breathed in
those last words of dedication to the friends of
time present and time past, " those familiar
affectionate companions and counsellors, who in
Oxford were given to me, one after another, to
be my daily solace and relief, and all those
others of great name and high example, who
were my thorough friends, and showed me true
attachment in times long past, and also those
many younger men, whether I knew them or
not, who have never been disloyal to me by
word or deed." And shall we not, Protestants
as we are, join in the final words, including
himself, in our orisons ? " And I earnestly pray
for this whole company, with a hope against
hope, that all of us, who were once so united,
70
THE LOST LEADER.
and so happy in our union, may even now be
brought at length, by the power of the Divine
will, into one fold and under one Shepherd."
Yes, we echo this prayer, each Sunday we
pray God for " all who profess and call them-
selves Christians," and surely our prayer goes
out in sincerity to the throne of grace. Outside
our churches, outside the limits of our com-
munion, even while recognizing vital difference
and plainly denouncing erroneous teaching, yet
our faith cannot exclude love, yes, love unreci-
procated and unanswered. The Church of
Cassander and of Carlo Borromeo, and Pascal,
and Fenelon, and Father Matthew shall have
our prayers. For that "kindly light," which
hovered before Newman's gaze, and which he
ever sought, if in most wandering path, that has
led him now
" O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent till
The night is gone,
And with the morn those angel faces smile,
Which he had loved long since and lost awhile."
EELIGIOUS EDUCATION.
Preached at St. John's Church, on Huncla^, September
0th, 1800.
" As long as he liveth he shall be lent to the Lord."-
1 Samuel i. 28.
Every great period and movement in history
IS summed up by a character which combines
and illu3trates its best qualities ; decay may be
apparent, but that only makes the contrast more
conspicuous. The age of chivalry ends with
Bayard, the knight " without fear and without
reproach," when Cervantes was soon to take pen
m hand to write its satiric epitaph. And so
passmg to a greater instance, we may say that
the period of theocracy in Israel is summed
up in Its last great champion, Samuel. That
direct rule of God over His people has never
indeed become a realized ideal. In its essence
utterly removed from a priestly or clerical
government, it finds its true definition and
motto m the exclamation of Moses, " Would God
that all the Lord's people were prophets, and
that the Lord would put His spirit upon
them ! " Moses was, indeed, their leader and
governor, Joshua their general, Gideon and
I i 1 1
72
RELIGIOUS EDUCATION.
Samson their heroes, Samuel tlieir prophet and
judge ; but never do we find the tendencies of
personal ambition and secularizing force wliich
so soon dragged down tlie primitive Church
from its first spiritual liberty. It is a nation
inspired directly by God that He desired, in
which each individual should be in personal as
well as federal relation to Himself. Samuel
represents this ideal. From the first, not merely
in obedience to the Levitical law, but by the free
outpouring of gratitude, he is " lent," or granted,
to Jehovah. The firstborn, as such, might be
redeemed from the responsibilities of the vow,
but no such compromise entered into Hannah's
thoughts. Lent to the Lord from the first, edu-
cated in the very tabernacle itself, familiarized
with all the devout usages and solemn obser-
vances of the holy place, sitting at the feet of
priests, like a greater successor, " he did minister
before the Lord, being a child."
And then there came to him that supreme
vision and voice, without which the tabernacle
and ark would liave been meaningless symbols,
and the priesthood a worthless calling. Samuel
received divine ordination into the true " succes-
sion " of prophets in the church on earth. "And
all Israel from Dan even to Beer-sheba knew that
Samuel was established to be a prophet of the
Lord." It is no mere historical picture that this
bring before us. It is the eternal truth, the per-
manent teaching of Old and New Testament,
RELIGIOUS EDUCATION.
73
there in sliadowed symbol, here in all the bright-
ness of the day, that God demands of us nothing
less than original, constant consecration to His
name and His service. Of one and all it must
be said : " As long as he liveth he shall be lent
to the Lord."
The topic that our text suggests is very near
us at this time, and cannot fail to be in our
minds. A few days ago we witnessed in this
building a gathering which no man can behold
unmoved, a vast congregation of children, raising
to God their joyful song in the old chorale :
" Now thank we all our God,
With hearts and hands and voices."
We listened to that heart-stirring appeal,
spoken from this pulpit, giving forth that "defi-
nite teaching " about which there is nowadays
so much talk, and so little practice -teaching
that, first of all, God must give to all of us a new
heart. I could wish that it had been possible to
bring into nearer juxtaposition that most im-
pressive service, and the important meeting of
Sunday-school teachers to be held in our city
during the present week. The one would have
been the fit introduction to the other. But it is
the teaching, not only of those hundreds who
worshipped here last Thursday, but of the
thousands in our province, that will now be the
question. No more momentous occasion, no topic
more vitally important, can be conceived. It is
'M
11
I ^
74
RELIGIOUS EDUCATION.
not an affair of mere church organization, it is
not an academical symposium upon methods and
appliances — it is the greatest question in the
world — Shall our children be lent unto the
Lord ? This is a question, concerning which
those who speak should do so in fear and trem-
bling. " Who is sufficient for these things ? "
What teacher in our Sunday schools, really
competent for his work, but returns each Sunday
with some new lesson learned, or it may be, a
sad sense of incomplete aspiration and unsatisfied
effort?
Self-complacence is confessed incompetence ;
and, indeed, we may apply St. Paul's words here :
"If any man thinketh that he knoweth any-
thing, he knoweth nothing yet as he ought to
know." For the concurrent possession of the
three indispensable gifts : The love for souls, the
knowledge of God's truth, and the power of
communicating it to the young, is so rare. Of
the two first requisites I will not speak now.
We know that they constitute the foundation of
all work. But we know also that God's grace
helps on the weakest efforts for His glory ; that
the simplest truths, felt as well as known, are
mighty ; and that love, that " charity which
never faileth," can surmount weakness and
obstinacy and indifference. These are God's
gifts ; but God also consecrates the use of human
effort, of human skill and science. And teach-
ing is a science, to which man and woman must
KELIGIOUS EDUCATION.
75
devote themselves earnestly and solemnly. But
there is this especial difficulty and danger about
it, that in none other are ignorance and failure
so easily disguised and concealed, even from
one's own consciousness. There are teachers
who will deliver the most eloquent orations
upon the blunders which (unknown to them-
selves) they habitually commit, or the principles
which they constantly transgress. Surely any
congress should open its deliberations by the
words of our general confession . " We have left
undone those things which we ought to have
done ; and we have done those things which we
ought not to have done." And in that confes-
sion the best, the most experienced, will join.
It is so hard to maintain the electrical connec-
tion of continuous interest ; it is so rare that we
can do equal justice to the keener and to the
less gifted pupils, to the diligent and to the
slothful. And that is why so often the best
qualified shrink back from the pressure of first
failures. They deem that to be want of aptitude
which is merely the want of experience. Heaven-
born teachers have been few indeed— perhaps,
unlike the poets, they are made and not born.'
Even an Ascham, a Pestalozzi, or an Arnold
could look back to a vista of first failures from
the altitude of later success.
Work on, then; fight against each special
weakness; learn to read the open page of
human nature, the child's soul disclosed atmost
1./ (N
76
RELIGIOUS EDUCATION.
in the face ; learn the words wliicli they know
in the senses wliicli they use ; learn the modes of
illustration which they can grasp, and the nar-
row limits of abstract tliou<^ht to which they can
attain. And let this be our watchword, brother
and sister teachers, this our t^olden text: "Icount
not myself yet to have apprehended ....
but I press on toward the goal unto the prize of
the high calling of God in Jesus Christ." But
what shall we teach ? That should not be hard
to decide, and yet what conflicting voices greet
our ears, and what varied methods are submitted
to our choice. "Teach church doctrine," say so
many. "Give them definite teaching." Most
heartily we will echo these appeals. With God's
help we will be definite in our teaching ; we will
give our children that church doctrine which is
defined by the Sixth Article to be contained,
read, and proved in the Holy Scriptures alone.
But God save them from Shibboleths, of what-
ever party, whatever color — God save them from
mere dry formulas, fixed in the memory at best,
conveying no life and producing no fruit. The
Church's highest claim, we know, is to be the
" witness and keeper of Holy Writ " (Article xx.)
She bids the sponsors at infant baptism take
care that their charges shall "hear sermons."
There is one sermon which stands before all
others, the Sermon on the Mount. The preacher
was Jesus Christ ; the congregation is the world
and all its inhabitants unto the last day. Can
RELIGIOUS EDUCATION.
77
we be in doubt whicb first to teach — the abstract
doctrines of the Nicene and Athanasian creeds,
or the divine commands of the Sermon on the
Mount ? Look at the example of God's own
method both under the old and new covenant.
First, the simple teaching by precept, then the
revelation of principles by the prophets. Jesus
reveals the higher law of love. St. Paul is per-
mitted and inspired to proclaim the justifying
force of faith — though " greater than this is love."
We have to bring our little ones to Jesus first,
and then we can teach them theological infer-
ences about Him. We have to explain to them
first the " great commandment " and the golden
rule, and afterwards we can tell what we know
about the procession of the Holy Spirit, and the
resurrection of the body. Above all let us strive
to make them Christian, children of God, and not
slaves of party. Let us bring them up, whether
we are parents or teachers, in " the nurture and
admonition of the Lord." Let us remember and
practise the old bidding of Solomon : " Train up
a child in the way he should go, and when he is
old he will not depart from it." W^e thank God
then, for the coming congress of Sunday-school
teachers, and we implore God's blessing on
their deliberations Our Church of England,
with all her wealth of historic glory, stands
to a certain extent now on her trial. The old
limits are being seriously strained, the prece-
dents of three centuries are openly and with
i V
I r
78
RELIGIOUS EDUCATION.
impunity disregarded. Where lies the fault ?
To what fatal principles, to what ill-starred
leaders, should we direct the indifjjnant appeal
of the Roman Empei'or : " Varus, Varus, give
Ijack the legions ! " But not to recrimination,
not to useless moanings over the irreparable
past, shall we devote our energies. " Forget-
ting the things which are behind, we stretch
forward to the things which are before." We
have work enough before us, dangers enough to
be encountered, hope enough for our encourage-
ment. And that hope is in the dedication of our
children to God. Vain Avill be the prosperity
of churches, if our pews contain mechanical
worshippers and secular minds. Vain the hope
of the future, if the solid virtues of the fathers
are to give place to flippant mediocrity and pre-
tentious ignorance; if the old vigorous faith,
with all its limitations and its bigotries, shall be
succeeded by an era of credulous scepticism, bred
of half-educated minds and undisciplined souls,
never turned to God, never amenable to the
counsel of superior age and superior station,
tending only to the sad descent, so easy, so
disastrous :
'* Smooth is the downward path that leads to hell ;
The infernal gates stand open night and day ;
But upward to attempt the steep ascent,
This — this is pain and labor."
My brethren, the appeal to parents, the coun-
sels to teachers, which so lately were uttered
RELIGIOUS EDUCATION.
79
fvoin this place, were surely not uttered in vain.
Those faithful, hurnin^r words will not be for-
^'otten. The future of the Church-indeed we
ini^dit say, the future of the nation its If-de-
pends on their efforts, upon their determination
to give the children to the Lord. He will re-
ceive the gift. He who said. "Suffer the little
chddren to come unto me, for of such is the
knigdom of God," repeats that invitation, re-
peats that declaration, from the throne of ' His
ascension. For those whom He receives He
guards forever. The Good Shepherd will never
forsake His sheep. If they stray. He will seek
them out; if they faint, He bears them in His
arms. " My sheep hear my voice, and I know
them, and they follow me ; and I give unto them
eternal life; and they shall never perish, and no
one shall snatch them out of my hand."
THE BEAUTY OF HOLINESS.
> f
Preached at St. Luke's Church, S'. John, N.B., on the occasion
of its rc-opening after restoration, Sept. Slst, 1S90.
"Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness." —
Ps. xcvi. 9.
I DO not propose to dwell u^ on the textual
questions concerned in the exact interpretation
of the last words of this verse. The words are
found, as you know, in several otlier places ;
twice in che Books of Chronicles, and twice in
other Psalms, probably indicating a technical
phrase. But whether that phrase should be
rendered as the mar^nn of our Revised Version
suggests — " in holy array," that is, in reference
to the priestly ritual of the Jewish service ; or,
as the margin of the Auhorized Version gave
it, " in the glorious sanctuary ; " or finally, as
the verdict of both revisions decided, in a more
abstract and general sense, as " the beauty of
holiness," these all coincide in one great prin-
ciple, the authentic place of beauty in the wor-
ship of God.
The reading of the 9Gth Psalm can help us to
realize the glories of the temple service. Wliat-
ever the date of the psalm, it is pregnant with
THE BEAUTY OF HOLINESS.
81
)n
las
)re
of
in-
to
ith
all the vital questions and ardent enthusiasms
of the Jewish race. We seem to see the vast
assemblaf;*e thronging the outer courts and pre-
cincts of the temple. We hear the mighty
chorus rising, re-echoing the appeal to " all the
earth,"
" Sing unto tho Lord, l)less His n.anie ;
Shew fcjrth Hi.s salvution from day to day :
Declare His glory among the nations,
His marvellous works among all the peoples.
For great is the Lord, and highly to be praised ;
He is to be feared above all gods.
4fr * -x- >;; -jfr -it-
Honour and majesty are before Him,
Strength and beauty are in His sanctuary.
Give unto the Lord, yo kindreds of the peoi)les.
Give unto the Lord glory and strength.
Bring an ottering, and come into His courts.
O worship the Lord in the ])eauty of holiness :
Tremble before Him all the earth ! "
Every aspect of the Hebrew character and
religion is displayed in this magnificent psalm ;
and yet the divine inspiration pcvading it
makes it so superior to the mere local circum-
stances that each verse and each word can shapo
themselves upon the lips of Christian wor-
shippers.
Not all precepts, indeed, of the Old Testa-
ment, not all rules of conduct, or niodes of
service are binding upon the Christian Church.
Our Seventh Article reminds us of the impor-
tant distinction, in this respect, between the
6
I . H I'- I, I
m
cS2
THE BEAUTY OF HOLINESS.
moi'al and cerenionial legislation ; and our
reason would convince us that much, very
much, of that service, not only details but prin-
ciples, were once and forever abolished when
the perfect High Priest had accomplished the
one sacrifice for the whole world. Some have
believed that the elemenv. of beauty so indis-
solubly connected with Old Testament worship,
in spite of all the sombre terrors of dying
animals, and smoking sacrifices, was abrogated
with them. Some have understood such pas-
sages as the great utterance of Jesus to the
woman of Samaria, as definitely confirming this
opinion ; as visiting with an equal disapproval
the worship of the temple and the mountain,
and holding up as the ideal a system in which
the mind unaided by any adjunct of praise, or
rather avoiding every sign of joy and reverence,
comnumes in solitude or silent assemblage with
the Unseen Creator.
It is true that when we turn to the New
Testament, we find few references to this aspect
of worship. It might seem as if the melody of
Scripture was transposed into the minor, as if
all or at least some of the energy and joyous-
ness and life of religion had passed away. No
word ecjuivalent to " beauty " is found except
in the terrible description of the Pharisees as
whited sepulchres, appearing beautiful out-
wardly, but inwardly full of uncleanness. Alone,
as an exception, might be deemed that earnest
1
THE BEAUTY OF HOLINESS.
83
w
3Ct
of
if
is-
[o
as
lut-
ine,
lest
exhortation of St. Paul to take account of
" whatsoever things are lovely."
But we are not to conclude that beauty, in
whatever way created or embodied, is disowned
and repudiated by the Christian scheme. We
are not to conclude that all religions are becom-
ing more corrupt, more distant from God and
light, because all churches, however divided in
creed or practice, are united in a stronger effort
to bring aspects of beauty and comeliness into
the worship of God. We are not reverting to-
wards heathenism in proportion as we make the
dark places of the world more bright and beau-
tiful, the models of perfection more accessible,
the strains of highest music more familiar.
Why, then, were all these features conspicu-
ously absent in the records of the Christian
Church ? It was a time of mourning. Just as
in a house recently bereaved of some beloved
inmate, no object of beauty can give pleasure ;
no music can charm, save the strains of some
old familiar hymn ; no picture attract, save the
portrait of the lost one. And so with the
Church. It was not only the pressure of per-
secution ; it was not only the natural repulsion
from any attribute, any seeming participation
with heathenism, it was the mourning for the
lost Jesus ; it was their slow perception of the
truth that the work of the Christian Church
was to enter, to con(|uer, and to Christianize tlie
world. They did not remember " that all things
;!!i
m
'k
V.
Vi
11
I. 1
il! i
I .1
84
THE llEAUTY OF HOLINESS.
were lawful," nothinj^ unclean of itself. And
liiHtory has repeated itself in later a^es.
After the tra<^edies of the lleforniation canie
the time of moral tension, the revulsion of all
things seemingly of thci world. It is not with
a sneer that we should study history, and jud<^e
the annals of the j)ast. Puritanism was a iKsces-
sary i)has(! of national life;, a nobhi protest; but
was not a final verdict, it was not the full voice
of (Jhristianity. And so it will ever be, as the
world progresses in its cyclic develof)ment. It
forgets for a time that while "all things are
lawful," we are not to be "brought under the
pow(3r of any." And so it givers itself up to
mere cinjoyment, like a truant child d(;s<3rting
its lessons for a perjx^tual playtimi;. And th(!n
must follow stern [)eriods of rep(.'ntance, when
things of joy and beauty must ])e laid asi<le.
And then man sp(!aks despitefully of g(!nius,
when he should rather condemn his own weak-
ness, his own folly, not knowing how to use the
gifts of (Jod.
But not from the chan<»:in<!: verdicts of man-
kind, rather from the unchanging truth of (iod,
we tak<; our authority, from Him who " made
ev(!rything beautiful in its time," fi'om II im who
bids us worship in tin; beauty of lujliness. We
vindicate; the llefoi'ination from the false; cliajgi;
that it d(!ni(Ml the; place; of beauty in woi'ship.
Each gr(;at historical movement is to be; ju<lged
by its nol)ier, nejt its baser aspects ; by the
THE IJEAUTV OF IIOLrNESS.
S5
10
.11-
do
lip.
utt(3rancos of its ^reatost roproHcntativoH, not ])y
tin; froiizy of its fanatics or the ignorance; of its
inferior camp- followers. It is not tlnireforo hy
tho iconociasni wliicli disfigured English catlic-
drals that we jud^c; the <;reat Puritan inove-
nient. History I'ecords that page of spiritual
life now dispassionately and faitlifully. We
see, we un(h)rstand th(; necessary revulsion from
a merely mechanical and ext<;rnal service ; from
abusers which a Hernard and a Peter ]){imiani
had exposed and condemned centuries before.
Times of strife cannot be times of sobcirly
balanced thought ; it is not then that the multi-
tude can be stayed at the golden mean.
Nor is it then, alas, that spiritual rulers dis-
play always that foresight, catholic spirit, prac-
tical gras[) of th(! situation, which might turn
the n(;w force into useful channels. Tim narrow
bigotry of Whitgift and Bancroft, of Laud and
Sheldon, not only di'ove from the Church those
who would hav(; been her most faithful and
ardent sons, Imt int(;nsiHed and exaggerated, by
the natuj-al result of pers(5cution, the charactej'-
istics of the movcMiient itscdf. J^ut the gi'eater
Puritans, men like Andrew IMarvell and Milton,
outgi'ew the narrow limitations of their party.
And when, in the luixt century, tliat which may
b(; called a second an<l iiTcattjr Puritan move-
ment ha<l reasserted tlu^ piMueiph's of Pi'(jt(!starit-
ism in a period of moral laxity ; an<l whc^n .-ncc;
more it seemed that narrow and one-sided con-
i !
1
86
THE 15EAUTY OF HOLINESS.
i:< '
I'l
coptions iiii^ht hariisli tli(3 rocot^nition of joy jind
beauty and dignity in tlio worsliip of God; tli(;n
it was that tli(3 (^reat Chfistian j)0((t Wordswoi'th
uttered luH immortal plea, taking' as his Hubject
that same glorious IIousi; of (lod of which
Milton liad Hun<^ in Htrains even moi't; celebrated,
tliat chapel foun<led by Ib'ury V^I, " the royal
and relij^iouH foundation," which lives in the
nunnoiy of all those who have worshijjpiMl under
its roof :
'"^Ffix not l.hu royal Huint, with vuiii ex|tonH(!,
With ill-iiiiitchud .liiiiH the architect, who ])lfmm!(l,
Albeit laboiiii!^ for a scanty hand
Of whii-u-rol)0(l schohirs (tnly, tliis innnunso
Aiul gh)rious work of hne intulli'cnco I
(iivoall thou canst ; hij^h Hcivon rejects the lore
Of nicely calculated less or more.
So deemed the man who fashioned for the sense
These lofty pillars, si)read that blanching roof
Self-i)oised, and scooped into ten thousand cells,
Where light and shade re[)ose, whei'e nnisic dwells
Lingering, and wandering on as loath to die ;
Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof
That they wore born for immortality."
That is the utterance of Protestantism rightly
understood, and he who will .jud<^e the ultimate
results of Puritanism, will find its partial views
and imperfect C(jnceptions (gradually developinj^
into full reco<i^nition of "reasonable service" and
the "beauty of holiness."
And in the same way, surely, with equally
dispassionate method, we should estimate the
1
TUK MKATTV OT FIOLIXKSS.
87
LtC
{if
lUl
chanictc!!' of the; otlujr and iiion! mothirii iiiove-
]ii(;nt in tht^ ()[)])()Hiti3 (lirc^f^lion, vvhieli may siu^ni
to Komo oi' us to liav«! lu'conio in its oxtr(!in<'S
tho caricatuiv, I'atlicr tlian tlio cultui'o of beauty
in worship, and the hin(h"anc(^ I'atlior tlian tho
lielp to any s[)iritual insjo-ht and <lovcjlopnM'nt.
liUt il* we study th(! ho^inninos ol' the; nio\M»-
mont, at first an ahnost imperative reaction
a<(ainst slovenly and nenlirrcnt vvoi'shi[), at a
time when the evanf»"(!lical I'evival ol* tli(5 I'ormer
century had s])ent its force, vv(! remeiidnrr liow
youuf^ and ardent minds, eaocr for trutii, atid
only necidinj^ wis(; ^uidancci and j^(3ntl(! restraint,
were harshly silenced, whethin' by incompc^tent
bishops or the viol(;nc(; of mob law. Surely a
a wise; statesmanship mi^ht have chan<;(Ml the
histoiy of our tinxis ! A statesmanship which,
in the; foi'mer centuiy, should have places! John
Weshy on tlie throne; of (>anterl»ury, and White-
field in the j)ulpit of St. Paul's, could have
preserved to tlu; (Jhurch of England, in th(i
nineteenth century, many of her sons not less
distin<^uished for nu^ntal and spiritual <;ifts. A
treatment more kindly and more jjjenerous, could
have found arguments better than lawsuit and
imprisonment, to restrain breaches of (eccle-
siastical law, to secuj'c! cheeMl'ul obedience to
episcopal mandatc^s, and more considei'ation for
the many who still pnd'i'n'ed simpler forms of
worship. And now that o-(;iitl(M' counsids and
practice have prevailed, we s(m; that pa<^e of
"I
88
TiiK |{Kai:ty ok iioijnkss.
n
in()(l(!iri c.liurcli liislory wliicli iian;it(;s IIk; pi'o-
^TCHH of h()-C{iII(m| " Ivitualisiii " in l^jioiaiid
aliHiJidy n!('oi'(ls vvliat may pi'ovc to Ix' its ciwl-
iri^j; .siiitM', tlio M()l)l<!.st and ablest r<'|)i'(iS<Mitativ('S
ol" tli(! party ai'o \vithdravvin<;' tln^inscdvcis IVoiii
tlio p<!tty stl'ii'(^s coiKMirniiin- di'css and attitude,
an<l in spit(^ ol' tli(i hitter attactks of tlieii' own
coil<'{i,^ues, liav(! devot(!(l tlieniselve-s to tlie
s(!i'ious .'ind scicintilic* study ol' Holy Sc,ri|)tureH,
and have (jualilicti theinscdviis, if not yet as
t(ia(;h(!rs, y(!t .'is fit ))Upils oi' these; masters in
tli(5oIo<^y \vhos(! coiKjIusions tln^y actcepl,, and hy
whose researches tlusy pi'olit.
Sur(dy
a ti'U(; via, tiwdhi, eai
l)e I'
OUIK
I Ix-t
ween
th(; two (!xtrem(!S, th(! S(;ylla and (Jharyhdis of
Puritanism and Ritualism. VVc ean uniti; in our
foi'Ui ol' woi'ship all joy and spN^ndor and Ix^auty,
and y(;t pi'<\serve in our t(;a(;hin^ tin; utmost
ii<lelity to primitive and ovan<4elical truth. iJut
nieri! tlieori/in<^ on such a suhji^ct av.'iils little,
whethei' the upholdin*;' ol' ideals or the i-ecount-
in;;- of past liisl-ory. The [)ossil)ility, and the
in(!stimabl
e vaUu; o
i' tl
us union nnist he exoeri
t h
V
cnced, and that (experience is poss(!ss(Ml, tliank
God, by many and many a connn^oation at tlu;
pi
esen
t<l
^y-
It is not for ^\\v to discuss the methods of
Hervic(e in the; church whi^re I have Imm'U called
to
sy
)ea
Is tl
lis <l;i,y.
Y(
ou vourselves. (!ven wn(!n
you had attaine(| youi" a-bsolute i<leal, wouM not
seek to sterecjtype it, or to impose it by authority
Tlin MKAHTY OK IIOI.IXKSS.
SO
1)1'
i)t
(ilHiiwlna'c^, liud you tlio powM^r. Von yourHclvcs,
1 (l()iil)t not, rejoice, UH I i-cjoice, that in this our
city, (iV(!i'y sluulc of opinion in niJittcr.s ccr*;-
monial lias its full and IVcc; oxpi'cssion in our
cliurclicH, sjin(;tion(!(l )»y due authority, and hy
th(! rr<'(! clioi(;(; oF indivi<lual con^^r'c^^at-ion.s. May
tliat (•onsinnniation Ixi attained throUi»Iiout tins
li^n^th and hreadtli of tli(! (yhui'cli oi' Kn^lund.
]>ut you may well rc^joicc^, i'oi- yourselves, without
tliouf^ht of comparison or ci'iticism outsid(!, tliat
your (iflorts to " vvorsliip ({od in the ])eauty oi'
holiiuiss" hav(! been so zinUous, and, I doul)t not,
HO iinich ))less(ul. Vou have not (hicmed your
onerin;i;s \vaste<l oi* misspent, in Ixiautiryin;^; tliis
huildinii". You have not i-(^Jected the I'ulhist aid
of nuisic, thai, nohlest, divin(!st (^ift, vvhicli Cliris-
tianity accej)ted as a h<'i'i(a^'e of (U'eek civiliza-
tion, and laid hefore tin; sanctuary of (iod.
And this diiy you de<licai<' to His servi(*(!
another ofrei-inii-, those,' twofold UK'Uioi'ials —
pictur(^s of (yhi'isl/s lil'e, whicli shall help tin;
youn^' (o i'ealiz(3 th(! story which this pulpit so
ol'tciu recounts to them, an<l memories ol" <(o()d
and true men, sejrvants ol* (Jod in dillerent licdds
of work', of whom, inde»Ml, th(i wis*; kind's woid
is I'uHllled:
" Tho iiicniory of (ho just, is hlossod."
Not, inde(id, iVom our canonical Sci-i])tures, hut
in ()n(M>r those writini'S which stainl just outside
the i'rontier, an<l which the Church reads, " i'or
m
i
90
THE HEAUTY OF HOLINESS.
#
example of lii'u and instruction of* niannoi's;"
tliere arc nicniorablo words which this day may
well recall to your minds:
"Lot UH now pniiso f.iinous men, uiul our ffithois tlmt
bug.'it UH. . . . Thc'io 1)0 of tljoni tluit luivo loft a
naniu holiiml thoui, that thoir praisos niij^ht bo ropctitod.
. . . . Thoir bodios aro buriod in ])oaco, but thoir
nauio livoth for ovorinoro. Tho poojilo will toll of thoir
wisdom, and tho oongrof^ation will show forth thoir
praiso."— (/iVci. xliv. J, «, 14.)
lietter than conventional e])ita])hs, these me-
morials will recall their work and their example.
The faithful ministers of Chiist who, in this
parish, preached His word and live<l after His
example, these being- dead, will yet speak to
you as you gaze on these memorials; the older
among you will recall their living presence, and
the young(3r will he stirred up to ennilate their
well-doing.
And so your worship in this house shall be
blessed and accepted by God. Each time you
enter these walls you will be aroused, not to
feelings of mere satisfaction at work completed,
but by a noble longing to persist in the " race
that is set before us," and to attain to the incor-
ruptible crown.
These words of Jesus above your Communion
table will call you to participation in His greatest
gift, that sacrament of the Lord's Supper, which
is not only a sign of our mutual love, but also
the sacrament of our redemption by Christ's
III II iM.
THE HEAUTY OF IfOLINESS.
91
•loath. And those othor iriHpired words wliicli
stand over yonr entrance grates shall be win<red
words of strength and life, so that
"Hu may run that roadoth it."
Yes, the Lord wlio shall be ever with His
Church, even to the end of the world, in spite of
all her divisions, her errors, her short-coniinrrs
her fadures, shall fulfil His pronn'se to us. His'
blessing shall enrich your worship, His grace
attend your steps; and, wliether in the act of
worship, or in that labor which a noble saying of
old declared to be itself a prayer, " He shall
preserve your going out and your coining in,
ironi this time forth for evermore."
in
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ii .11
i!
m
PATIENCE.
Preached at St. John'' a Church oil Sutuluj/, Novcmher 10th, 1S90.
" In your {mtience ye shall win yrmr souls."
— Like xxi. 19, 11. V.
Why is it that so many human characters
around us give to the observer a sense of incom-
pleteness, of imperfect growth ? Is it that they
could not have developed moral faculties more
fully, and so were destined forever to remain
mere sketches of what human nature can be,
sketches with blurred, suggested outlines, defi-
cient in due light and shade, just sufficient for
an artist to recall the scene which attracted him,
and which he will commit with patient skill to
his canvas ? If we could convince such charac-
ter of imperfection, and ask them the reason,
they would plead lack of opportunity : ' If I only
had a part to play on the arena of the world, I
could rise to great occasions.'
So the man who fails from lack of effort and
tenacity in some small field of work, dreams that
he could succeed in greater difficulty and on
sublime occasions. He scorns to exercise the
virtues of self-control, patience, resolution, in
PATIENCE.
93
mcl
Ihat
on
I the
in
the humble sphere, and fancies that he could
command these qualities at an instant, could his
ambitious imagination convert its day-dreams
into reality. But man makes his own opportu-
nities in proportion as he renders himself capable
of them. The history of famous men, indeed, is
full of these supposed "chances," eagerly grasped,
and successfully used. But if we could read the
biography of failure, as we read the biography
of success, we should read of just as many open-
ings overlooked or wasted.
The lives which seem so colourless and unin-
teresting, so tedious to the individual and his
surroundings, so lacking in energy, so barren of
usefulness and charm to othei's — these arc the
lives, the souls, which have not been won ; these
are the buried talents, these the untilled, un-
cleared lands which cannot bear fruit.
And it is not energy alone, a ([uality rather of
temperainent than mind, that can develop a
character, can win our souls for us. As Jesus
tells us, it is patience, and if patience were the
one tiling needful for the saints in the age of
Christ's presence and pentecostal outpouring,
how much more for these latter days ?
It is said that the very highest test of mili-
tary discipline and efficiency in battle is won
when troops on the battle-field can remain
exposed to fir'., and yet not suttered to attack.
They call on their officei*s to lead them to the
charge, but the general knows the right occasion
ii
94
PATIENCE.
II
I M
II;;
M
for advance, he gives them all the cover that the
situation can furnish, and he bids them be
patient till the time comes for action.
The experience of active life is a great thing.
It gathers for us not only the actual knowledge
of affairs, but builds up a trained instinct of
promptitude to seize hold of the occasion and
profit by it. But not less, indeed, for the
spiritual life, far greater is the gain of patience
in the growth of character, since what we do
is done in the grace of the Lord, but what
we suffer is granted for the trial of our souls.
For patience in the free agent is no mean and
timid virtue. If it was sai<l once that the
" dignity of the slave is silence," when fear
and prudence might act as incentives, surely
it is much more the dignity of free men (who
can complain and protest), if they wrap them-
selves in silence where speech cannot be an
effective force.
We are ashamed of the cry of physical suffer-
ing, but that is not more a sign of weakness than
the querulous complaint, of what ? of some cer-
tain inexorable consequence of our own action,
some harvest that our own imprudence has
sown.
I know that this is hard to learn, harder to
practise, far harder than to accept an abstract doc-
trine. When our life and future seems wrecked,
when all the golden hopes we once entertained
seemed dashed to the ground, and life seems a
PATIEXCE.
96
to
loc-
:ed,
ined
IS a
future of dull suffering, worse than a prisoner's,
because tantalized by the joys of others so near
and yet so impossible to us, then it is hard to be
patient, that is, it is hard to complete our
characters, to " win the soul."
And yet that may be the supreme opportunity
afforded to us. That may be tlie occasion, the
only way of building up a true character, puri-
fied, strengthened, made receptive and tenacious
of what is received. Then, when the atheist
thinks of suicide as an escape from cares and
pain; then, when the weak Christian exhales
his sighs and moanings, and alienates perhaps
the very friends who feel most deeply for his
sorrow — then comes the Christian's great occa-
sion ; then the crown of victory, though not yet
near, is seen in the far distance. It is not the
stoic's mere sense of personal dignity and self-
dependence, it is the sense of being Christ's
follower, entering on the path of Christ, find-
ing the fulfilment of His words, trusting in the
certainty of His help.
And then the pain of our situation, the bur-
then of environment, the ties which only God
can loose, and which may be so fraught with
agony, these become the wholesome medicines of
the Great Physician of souls. We become con-
scious that the pain is less, that the effort is no
longer so exacting, and God knows that it is
because our soul, our living personality, has
gained in strength.
96
PATIENCE.
m
Then we know what religion means: not a
mental exercise for Sun«biy, not an intellectual
luxury for leisure, and the stock-in-trade of
churches and ministers ; but one of the very
elements of human life, the breath without
which the very soul is torpid, without which
the spirit is dead.
Happy the man who lives to feel his need.
Unhappy the man who, baskin*^ in all pros-
perity, never feels his need till he whispers, with
failincr faculties, a half mechanical assent to
deathbed consolations.
Unhappy the soul which has always been full
and satisfied, never has suffered contradiction,
never has suffered wrong, which has developed
itself just us circumstances helped, and has
passed down the stream of life with favoring
breezes, and the congratulations and envy of
beholders.
I do not say that such a soul is lost ; God
forbid. But it is not fully gained, it is not
fully possessed, in the sense of Christ's promise.
A character in a famous work of fiction is
made to exclaim, " How easy to be good on ten
thousand a year ! ** But Christ does not say
this. He says it is difficult, though not impos-
sible, for those who have en joyeo all eathly bliss
to fit themselves for heaven.
But He knew, as indeed most of us know,
that sorrow and the need for patience do not
belong solely to the poor and destitute in this
PATIENCE.
97
of
not
lise.
m is
ten
say
lipos-
1 bliss
worM. He knew that pan^ifs of sufferinfjj more
than en<lurance can conceive, may be found in
tlie palace as often as the cottage, tliat not only
the lack of brea<l, but the lack of love and es-
teem an<l joy can poison the wellsprings of life ;
that amon<^ the wealthy and cultivated classes,
they are the golden opportunities for self-know-
ledge, self-conunand, self-contiuest, which shall
win the soul.
In the end of his epistle to the Romans, St.
Paul speaks of that " patience and comfort of
the Scriptures," words embalmed in one of the
most treasured prayers in our Liturgy. And
then, inspired by the use of the Word, he gives
utterance to a suljlime benediction, ** The God
of patience and comfort grant you to be of the
same mind one with another, according to Christ
Jesus. '
The God of patience ! Surely a strange attri-
bute for omnipotence. But no, God is our ex-
ample even here. '* Never hasting, never rest-
ing," goes on the course of Providence. And
we, in our little world of life, can so follow in
the steps of that patience that we shall find Him
also the God of comfort.
[now,
not
this
iff!
THE CHURCH AND SOCIAL
QUESTIONS.
Prrachal nt St. John's Church, on the 'ird Sumlaif in
Advent, 18U1.
(Tlie fourth in a series of sermons on "The Duties of the Church.")
" But if the Wiitchinaii seo the sword come, and blow
not the trumpet, and the })eo|)le be not warned, and the
Hword come, and take any i)erson from among them, . . .
his blood will I require at the watchman's hand."
— EzKK. xxxiii. 6.
Tliis eveninc; we approach a question wliere
serious objection may meet us at the very
thresliold. Can the Church of Cln*ist, whether
as the whole, in the ideal character, or in her
different sections, claim to ^ive counsel in social
problems ? And I take these words in their
fullest and broadest signification. Excluding
only the matters which belong to the mere
machinery of politics — but including matters
upon which the great issues of the world's wel-
fare depend — the question is : Has the Church,
not any one section or office in it, but the whole
Church embodied in ministers and laity — as a
Church — has it a right to an articulate voice of
THE CHURCH AND SOCIAL QUESTIONS. 99
jial
counsel, ami will that counsel be of benefit to
the world at larjije ?
At once the objection is obvious, founded on
division of labour, upon the advantage of special-
ized skill. Should not the Church, as a Church,
confine itself to the exposition and teaching of
theology, and leave the world's problems to the
world's solution, for better or for worse ?
But there would be more force in that objec-
tion if it expressed a loyal and consistent prac-
tice. Do those who deny to the theologian a
voice upon such a topic as labour disputes, for
instance, do they refrain from confident opinion
upon theological topics ? Everyone knows that
those who utter the most trenchant criticisms
upon theology, the pronounced and loud-voiced
party-men, are not the cjualified students, are
not the experts trained by long and laborious
discipline, but either speak from the blissful
unconsciousness of complete ignorance, or else
exemplify strikingly in their own pei*sons the
proverbial danger of a little knowledge. Special-
ization implies the skill of the expert, and that
does not always follow the barriers of a profes-
sion.
There have been laymen whose opinion upon
vexed questions of theology w^as more authorita-
tive than that of bishops. Selden, in the seven-
teenth century, although a layman, was in learn-
ing far above the divines whether of his own
church or of the Westminster Assembly ; Grotius
(
tl
"I
IH
i)
I;''
i
f^: i
100 THE CHURCH AND SOCIAL QUESTIONS.
as a commentator surpassed all his clerical con-
temporaries. More recently, when (some yeara
ago) the difficult (luestion of the permissibility of
divorce was under discussion, it was from a
layman, Professor Conington of Oxford, that
emanated the decisive judgment which ended
argument, if not controversy.
And an ecjual number of important exceptions
might be named, showing that among the clergy
have been found experts in subjects not theolo-
gical.
I do not turn my back to remoter periods
when education was almost monopolized by the
clergy. In modern days we find cases more
numerous than time would allow to name.
Butler and Mansel are not less renowned as
metaphysicians, or Sedgwick and Buckland as
pioneers in the study of geology, or Malthus
as the enunciator and expositor of a profound
law of sociology, or Pritchard and Father Secchi
as astronomers, or Bishop Stubbs as the first
living authority on English constitutional history
— because they were by profession ministers of
religion.
And when the questions at issue contain
aspects of morality, (and what social problem
excludes them ?) then surely the watchman bears
not his trumpet in vain, and woe be to him if it
give forth an uncertain sound ! What, then, are
some of the problems upon which the Church of
Christ has not so much the claim only, but the
THE CIIUUCII AND SOCIAL t^UEsTlONS. 101
Lin
jm
irs
it
ire
of
the
absolute duty, to utter eouiiHt'l, witliout fear or
favor {
Tlie first of tlieso, let us thank God, is no
burning; question on this continent. Whatever
burthens may be submitted to, there are no vast
armaments crushing the vital activities of our
nation, eripplinj^ its finances, poisonin*^ the well-
sprinj^sof international brotherhoo<l. But this
terrible evil is the present plague of Europe.
All the continental powers are (like the kni<^hts
of the Middle Ages) in danger of suffocation from
their own armour. All policy has to be directed
with a view to military alliances, to the dreadful
eventualities of a future war, which each year
seems to render more certain and more formid-
able. Should not ministers of religion in
Germany, in France, in Italy and Austria raise
their indignant protest ? It may be said that
emperors and statesmen would pay but scanty
heed to pulpit utterances, or even the protests
of By nods. Believe me, I do not exaggerate
their effect. It may be nothing more than the
dropping of water on the rock, but at last the
rock is worn away. The protests of Wilberforce
or Channing for long years seemed to avail little
against the curse of English or American slavery;
but their trumpets sounded not in vain. It was
like the assault of Israel on the fortress of
Jericho; the trumpet of warning and defiance
sounded and again resounded. Six times the
defenders listened and despised ; and doubtless
! -^»-
I'.
Ill
! I
102 THE cm J IK 'II AND SOCIAL (QUESTIONS.
the iisHailants wore sa<l and weary and dispirited;
but at the seventh sound the walls fell.
But turn to dangers and ditticulties which
immediately beset our western civilization, and
indeed are the social epidemic of all civilization.
I mean the jealousies and conflicts of labour and
capital. Turn whither you will, there is war
between man and man. Sometimes the victory
inclines one way, sometimes the other. In the
great colonies of Australia, rejoicing in their
abundant strength and infinite resources, the re-
presentatives of labour hold majorities, and seem
inclined to legislate for their sole interests regard-
less of the body politic. Elsewhere the reins of
government are in the hands of the capitalist,
and gigantic trade- combinations for a time are
successful. " From whence come wars and fight-
ings among you ? " cried St. James — " ye covet
and cannot obtain ! " A voice has been lately
uttered, the first official voice from a Christian
church. I wish it had come from our own. As
a Protestant minister, speaking in a Protestant
church, I say, all honour to him who conceived
the " Encyclical Letter on the Condition of
Labour." It is true that with some things in
that remarkable document we may not agree.
The philosophical system of Thomas Aquinas
(mighty name as that is in the history of
thought), is not the weapon that can pierce
the triple armor of self-interest ; it will not stem
the rushing torrent of modern party rivalry. It
Till-: ciiriifii AND sociAi. grKsTi(»Ns. lO.S
mi^lit, p^'rhapM, ha saM that the propo.salH aiv too
gi3ucral, and that Uuto are not onouj^h spt'cilic
sugfrcstions tanj^ihly iloahng witli iiiatterH of
immediate actuality. But a manifeHto must state
general principles, and lay d(j\vn broad propor-
tions. What maxim nobler than this : " It is
one of the greatest blessings to be able to look
at things as they are, and at the same time to
look upwards for help from above to mend
them." All honor, I say it again in the midst
of vital difference, all honour to that body of
fellow Christians which, through their official
head, has sounded the trunjpet of warnirig, has
cried to the strugirlinirand contendiuir multitude:
" Sira, ye are brethren, but why do ye wrong
one to another ? " Biu if the claim of uttering
counsel in a church's corporate capacity has yet
to be vindicated by our own communion, 've can
justly boast that many individual teachers have
spoken words of wisdom, based upon exact
scientific knowledge, and conveying the most
timely and helpful counsel to the needs of the
present age. When James Fraser, the great
bishop of Manchester, was called upon to act as
arbitrator in the great cotton " strike," and his
arbitration obtained acceptance for many years —
this was not because he was a clergyman or a
bishop, but because by unanimous consent of
those hardheaded Lancashire mill o\vners and
operatives, his position guaranteed his imparti-
ality, and his reputation guaranteed his ability.
''
■«ia«a»*Ma
m
ilJ!
f
I. !
if:li
III
fli|
! I
■! t
104 THE CIIUIICH AND SOCIAL QUESTIONS.
What is the root of the evil ? This morning
we learned it fron\ the uncompromising pen of
St. James : It is the lon<j^ing of the present day
to be rich at any cost, the cost of others' happi-
ness, or the cost of one's own soul. The capital-
ist desires to increase his thousands or millions ;
the workingman, whose whole capital is his
strong arm, desires to diminish his hours of
labour and increase his wages. There are times
of prosperity. England knew them about a
generation ago, when all the commercial world
was still at her feet, when her operatives could
not suffice, nor her looms be worked rapidly
enough for the overflowing demand. It was the
dream of Pharaoh realized, and the lean years
must follow, years of hard and eager competi-
tion, years of depression, years of misery, and
worse — of class hatred and class conflict — the
strike and the lock-out alternating, now the
artizan triumphing, now forced to accept the
masters' terms, but ever and ever increasing
that terrible chasm of divided sympathy, di-
vided interest, which left the two halves of the
population enemies at heart, natural enemies
as Englishmen and Frenchmen once supposed
themselves, as Germans and Frenchmen seem
to be at present — and this is in a Christian
land, a land sending out its missionaries, a land
where religion is established by law, a land
which boasts the open Bible and iti teachings
as a national heritage.
THE CHUIUH AXJJ SOCIAL QUESTIONS 105
^g
You may, my bretlircn, thoufjli God forbid it,
liave seen more painful sit^hts than wliat I
vividly remember, many years at^o, durin<^ a
strike in a Lancashire town. The very contrast
of silence and inaction, in a city meant for busi-
ness, was appallinj^. Nothing to relieve the
bleak dreariness of the surroundings : the tall
chimneys smokeless ; no busy hum from the
factories. At the street corners groups of men,
dispirited, aimless, hopeless ; gaunt-eyed women
passing with step so changed ; and from the
children even, all life and joy gone. One could
not but respect those who battled for what they
thought a principle, w^ho showed fidelity — almost
to the very jaws of starvation— to the leaders of
the trades' union. Suffering was not all on one
side ; for a strike meant bankruptcy to many a
cotton manufacturer. And yet — " th . pity of
it ! oh, the pity of it ! " The thought would rise
up in one's heart : Is there not a prophet among
us, will not God appoint a teacher who shall say
with Paul, " Behold, I show you a more excel-
lent way."
The present condition of things is a state of
war : no other term can describe it. And not
only war between capital and labour, but bitter
though bloodless strife between countries which
speak the same tongue and own the same an-
cestors. Some will tell us this is a part of Free-
dom, it is inevitable. But if it be a truth (which
i-i iwvm
106 THE CHURCH AND SOCIAL QUESTIONS.
is a truism) tliat " union is strength " every-
where else, why is it a fallacy here ? If co-
operation means mutual benefit in every other
sphere of existence, why should not it be the
solution here also ? It will be said, " Oh, these
experiments of co-operation and profit-sharing
have been tried, and they have failed." Yes,
here and there, on a small scale, they have been
tried, and pressure from without, or apathy from
within, has choked the seed before the harvest.
But is that not the history of every great move-
ment ? Is it not the fact that these experiments
have always been encouraged by the soundest
economists, and the most experienced statesmen ;
that at the present time co-operative farms and
co-operative factories are working and prosper-
ing ; '^hat it is no mere Utopia of the theorist,
but a bright glimpse of hope which promises,
not indeed a universal solution, but an important
palliative of present evils ?
And then there is another practical suggestion,
not indeed novel, but which needs earnest re-
commendation at the present day. The Ency-
clical Letter from which I quoted, contains
some excellent remarks on the subject of Work-
men's Associations, as they once were, and as
they still might be :
"History attests that exceMent results were
effected by the Artificers' Guilds of a former
day. They were the means not only of many
THE CHURCH AND SOCIAL QUESTIONS. 107
[ere
ler
my
advantages to the workman, but in no small
degree to the advancement of art, as numerous
monuments remain to prove." (E. L., page 31.)
Whether we trace the origin of trade guilds
from the Rhodian Eranoi, or the Roman Col-
legia, or from Germanic assemblies, all students
are agreed that they owed all their practical
development to Christianity, for the " spirit of
association received a mighty impulse, and the
guilds spread themselves rapidly under the in-
fluence of Christian doctrine.' — "(L. Brentano,
"History of Guilds," 1870.)
Students of earlier English history know how
great a part is played by these guilds, in every
phase of social and even of political life. It is
not too much to say that to them England owed
her supremacy in manufactures and skilled
workmanship. Like all human institutions
indeed, these also degenerated ; the larger socie-
ties became wealthy and tyrannical, those that
now survive contribute nothing to the activity
of the nation, for they represent much wealth
only, and not the original principle of labour.
We do not expect the working man to neglect
his personal profit, but we do want him (for his
country's sake and his own) to take a pride in
his work. He is hindered by the large demand
for the cheaply pretentious rather than the
solidly excellent article — but here the trades'
union, if it rose to the highest conception of its
If: ^-
■wiittr^' m
w
* 1
III: . ,
■
108 THE CHURCH AND SOCIAL QUESTIONS.
power, might effect much, even if it only im-
pressed upon its members the dignity of labour
and the superiority (from every true aspect) of
the man who creates and makes to the man who
can only consume.
I have indicated briefly some of the points
upon which our churches have the claim and the
duty to speak ; but here once more it is obvious
that only the undivided voice of a united Chris-
tianity could carry decisive weight in influencing
the world. If only for that purpose alone our
differences could be forgotten ! For men would
listen to that united voice. Not merely with
conventional civility, but from conviction that
these men speak that they do know. That voice
would reach across the world. It would speak
as no popular assembly can speak. No party
spirit, no class interests, no person- 1 bias, would
influence its counsel.
Once, in a distant age, the voice of Christian-
ity called upon the world to liberate the holy
places of Palestine from Saracen rule. And
when the first appeal was made at Clermont,
in the year 1095, from the lips of the assembled
multitude there burst forth the cry, " It is God's
will ! "
Better than a crusade for a romantic idea
would be an effort for the elevation of humanity.
Better than the extermination of Islam is the
purification of Christianity. For our own holy
THE CHURCH AND SOCIAL QUESTIONS. 109
places are defiled if selfishness and class-hatred
dommate among nations which invoke the name
fu '■! „ ^' """ "''"'"''« ^ proclaimed, and
there shall be no lack of warrion,. Our war-
cry shall be the same, " God wills it i " our
banner shall be the same, the cross of Christ
and our triumph (if victory come not in ou^
time) shall be this, that we have taught our
fellow-man to love his neighbor for the sake
ot the love of God.
/
I' i
THE PEACEFUL END.
Preached at St. John's Church, on the 0th of January, 1893, at
the funeral of the late Thomas Wilder Daniel,
. Churchwarden.
•* Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright : for
the end of that man is peace." — Ps. xxxvii. 37.
Funeral sermons are burdened with unfor-
tunate memories, not only in the past, but even
in the present time. Whether we think of the
rhetorical orations of antiquity, or of obsequious
court-preachers in later days, uttering their
flatteries over royal graves ; or even, in our
own time, of the usage in some places of making
the death of every prominent church-member
the topic of laudatory discourse, one is almost
constrained to regard the custom as more
honored in the breacTi than in the observance,
"Nil nisi honum mortuis*' — that well-known
saying, born of natural and kindly feeling,
seems to be a barrier against truth, even in a
place where truth above all things should be
spoken.
The Bible records no eulogium upon de-
parted saints. Jesus spoke at the grave of His
THE PEACEFUL END.
Ill
)er
)re
ice,
Iwn
a
be
Ide-
[is
friend ; but His text was "Lazarus, come forth !"
Peter was called to tlie house of death, and he
summoned Dorcas to arise. Of Stephen it is
only said that " devout men carried him to his
burial, and made great lamentation over him."
A few brief words relate that James, the son of
Zebedee, was slain with the sword. But are we
to suppose that the departure of faithful
disciples, whether after bitter trial, or in the
calm maturity of life, dieted no spoken me-
morial, no testimony to example given, and to the
evidence of faith unfeigned ?
Brethren, we know that such utterance, the
outpouring of mingled gratitude and grief, has
ever been the custom of the Church, for it is the
very instinct of our better nature. And now,
when Christianity seems to stand upon her trial,
when authority is called to proof, and the world
demands the result of our labour and the worth
of our professions, then surely the evidential
value of our personal character becomes of the
highest importance.
For the evidences of Christianity are mani-
fold, and now one feature or aspect, now an-
other, needs illustration or defence. All are
true, all are essential to the instructed Christian ;
but that which seemingly is least important
may become, and at the present time does be-
come, the most valuable. It may be said, and
said riglitly : Christianity is true, even though
every professing Christian were unworthy of
»
%\
l\
h ,ii^S
112
THE PEACEFUL END.
m
Nil
i^i i
his high profesHion. But how much better to be
able to urge that Christianity is true because we
can point to a type of character, more lofty,
more consistent, more humble, more self-sacri-
ficing, than any other system of philosophy of
life has produced.
Outside our churches, outside the furthest
frontier of Christianity, there may have been
lives of beauty and self-sacrifice, lives which in
some mysterious way the Holy Spirit may have
guided, as some of the earlier fathers believed
that the wisdom of Socrates and Plato had been
partially inspired. But only there where practice
harmonizes with theory, and life with faith ;
only there where the believer must work out
his own salvation through a Deity which works
in himself ; only there where the believer
ascribes all power to grace and all merit to an
Atoning Sacrifice, where divinely appointed
mysteries become realities through personal
faith, and works of love flow instinctively from
the bountiful source of a transformed nature —
there is that sitmmum bonurn which alone
conceives as her ideal, and which sometimes —
alas, so seldom ! — is manifested in human life.
And when that character is found not cloistered
and secluded, not even shielded by the privileges
and preventive checks of the ministerial office,
but living in the world, amid all its activities
and all its temptations, yet unspotted, living the
creed it professes, — shall we not bless God for
THE PEACEFUL END.
IV]
me
Ife.
:ed
;es
[ce,
lies
Ihe
for
tliis greatest proof of His crraoe, sliall we not
treasure to our last days the priceless exaiujjle ?
Such an example' we have had among us in one,
who though dead, yet speaks to us, an example
that shall live and shall bear fruit. There are
others who, with better right, could speak of the
life of our departed brother, and of its many-
sided excellences ; of the spotless integrity which
gained his eminence in the connnercial world ; of
the munificence of his generosity, whether in re-
sponse to the cry of distress or to the need of
religious and philanthropic effort ; of the dignity
with which trials were borne; of the forbearance
towards those who injured ; of the encoiu*age-
ment to the many whom he had helped to rise.
But even to one who only knew him in these
later years, and who now mourns the loss of the
loving counsels of a fatherly friend, some aspects
are vividly conspicuous, and these I comrfiend to
myself, brethren, and to you, for our imitation.
Firstly, his unity of character. There was
no frontier of religious profession and worldly
nature. He was totally unlike the many whose
creed is mere Shibboleth, and their practice con-
ventional propriety, — it was that " single eye " of
which the Scripture speaks. If he spoke of
religion, he spoke naturally ; there was no altered
tone, no parade of devotional phrase and gesture.
One saw that it was an applied Christianity, a
religion which circulated like life-blood through
every portion of his mental and moral nature.
8
114
THE PEACEFUL END.
W"
The second feature tliat one could not fail to
note was the luiion of strenj^th of principle with
a perfect charity to others. And that union is
so rare ! Indeed, its very elements sin^^ly are
rare ; for the bigotry of inherited prejudice
claims to be "principle," and careless indifference
masquerades as " charity." But principles and
charity were his possession — the principles
tenaciously held, because rooted by experience in
conviction, — the charity wide and deep, because
learned of his Divine Master. Staunchly,
strongly, he maintained those evangelical princi-
ples which were to him the essence of all creeds,
and the precious inheritance of our Church,
never abandoned or weakened without injury
to the faith, and peril to the soul. ^Tet he was
no narrow partisan. His soul was truly catholic.
For him the church of Christ had many mansions
and the flock had many folds. It was not made
by statute, nor limited by vote of synod, or
anathema of ancient council. Fully loyal to the
formularies and teachings of his own communion,
yet his Christian fellowship went forth like the
great apostle, " to all them that love our Lord
Jesus Christ in sincerity."
And the last aspect of which I shall speak is
one that rarely finds mention in connection with
religion, and yet is its significant supplement.
When a modern writer exclaimed that St. Paul
was above all things a gentleman, he uttered
THE PEACEFUL END.
115
neither irreverence nor incongruity, but a pro-
found truth which well needs to be taken to
heart. That grand old English title of honor,
which knows no superior indeed but sovereignty
— that title M'hich none can claim rightly who
possesses but the veneer of social custom, manner
and phrase, that which means the outward form
of an inward nobility of soul — that title was his
by right of every attribute. To him might well
be applied the words of our great living poet :
"Not being less, but more than all
The gentleman he seemed to be ;
Best seemed the thing he was, and joined
Each office of the social hour
To noble manners, as the flower
And native growth of noble mind. "
ide
or
ion,
the
lord
IS
rith
mt.
faul
tred
It is a character such as this, a character
which fulfils the precepts of the famous text,
chosen as our Church's motto for this year, and
inscribed around our walls, " Love the Brother-
hood ; fear God ; Honour the King." For he loved
the brotherhood of the Christian name, as he gave
due esteem to all men ; his fear of God was that
of a loving child for its parent ; his loyalty was
the chivalrous attachment of one who never was
stained by party strife nor the unscrupulous
bitterness of conflict.
And now he is at rest; and which of our-
selves, here assembled, but will say, " May my
!ll
116
THE PEACEFUL END.
80ul l)e with his ! " Not for him do we pray, for
our Church knows nothing of such orisons, but
prayer we utter fervently. We pray for those
left behind, for one above all whose life suffers
the irreparable voirl of bereave<l companionship;
we pray for a blessed reunion in due season,
for ourselves also. And since this funeral
service of our Church knows no <jflooni even in
bodily death, but only the Resurrection and the
Life, let our prayer end in praise and blessing to
Hiin who <jave and who has taken away :
" Wc hless Thy lu>ly name for all Tliy servants de-
parted tliis life in Thy faith and fear, beseeching Thee to
give us grace so to follow their g()()d examples, that with
them wo may he })artikers of Thy heavenly kingdom.
Grant this, () Father, for Jesus Christ's sake, our only
Mediator and Advocate."
II
II
YOUTH AND DEATH.
A sermon prcffrhcd at St. JohiCa Church, ou Sundai/, Januartf
Uth, after the death of the Duke of Clarence.
* ' Thoro is but a step hetwoen mo aiul death. ' '
1 Sam. XX. 3.
David's character has been a difficulty to
many C/hristians in all times. It has been a
stumbling-block to the weak, and a supposed
occasion for the enemy. It presents to us the
career of a strong, expansive nature, richly en-
dowed in every respect, a man of genius (if ever
that word possessed a true signification), and a
man of action — two characters rarely united,
and never in such superabundance. That
nature is chosen by God, and the call is obeyed.
Yet at times David falls back, and his fall means
that he acts like an Oriental despot, which is
the very opposite of the action of the servant of
God. If there be difficulty — and that difficulty
is chiefly in regard to David's later years — it is
due to the fact that we are apt to measure the
conditions of other people's lives by our own
circumstances. But when we turn to David in
his bright and glorious youth — pure, strong,
118
YOUTH AND DEATH.
!i
M
1.1 i .
ardent, God-fearing — then we have an ideal
character for every period of the world's history,
for every rank of life.
Is there a more beautiful incident than the
story of the friendship of Jonathan and David,
a friendship which bridged over tribal jealousies,
and the chasm which even in feudal days separ-
ated the monarch and the subject ? Saul's un-
happy nature has overcome his real nobility and
his affection for the young Bethlehemite. David
has fled for his life, and Jonathan comes out to
meet him, and the two friends hold counsel to-
gether. David feels the full horror of his
position. Saul's enmity is increased, rather than
lessened, by his son's friendship. It is jealously
redoubled; the jealousy of warlike success,
anr" of personal attraction. And David said:
" Thy father certainly knoweth that I have
found grace in thine eyes ; and he saith. Let not
Jonathan know this, lest he be grieved ; but
truly as the J ord liveth, and as thy soul liveth,
there is but a step between me and death."
He knew this, and the thought steeled his
will, and strengthened his character. He knew
also, for the Psalms show it, that not only when
a fierce foe pursue s, but at every moment of life
we stand close — very close — to the threshold of
death.
Brethren, these last days should have made
this consciousness of David's our own. It was
but two weeks ago that we bewailed (though
YOUTH AND DEATH.
119
lave
not
but
reth,
his
:new
rhen
life
Id of
lade
was
lough
with the knowledge of his own joyful deliver-
ance) the departure of one to whom this Church
owed so deep a debt for his work and for his
exemplary life. Now we have hardly heard one
death-knell, when another sounds in our ears.
It is as when the greatest of modern English
orators, during the Crimean war, exclaimed :
" The Angel of Death is abroad ; one can hear
the beating of his wings."
We have heard of the death, at a great age,
of one who once seemed destined to the highest
place in our communion, but, swept along by a
great wave of religious feeling, not now our pro-
vince to discuss, passed over to the Church of
Rome, of which he became the most distinguished
figure. Not now the time to consider the les-
sions of the strange divided career of Henry
Edward Manning. Suffice it to remember that
however ill-advised and disastrous his theologi-
cal change may seem to us, we can pay a tribute
even in a Protestant church to the memory of
one who labored consistently for the cause of
temperance and for honorable agreement be-
tween the employer and the labourer.
But a career significant and memorable as
this is hardly noticed when the funeral bell
announces that the heir to England's crown, in
the very prime and bloom of youth, is suddenly
taken away. A stroke so sudden, so unexpected,
has not been known in English history since
that sad November day in 1817» when the
120
YOUTH AND DEATH.
i 111
tj
m
i I
i
V I'
heiress of the English throne, Princess Char-
lotte, the darling hope of the nation, died with
her infant in childbirth. Then indeed political
circumstances, the possibilities of foreign in-
heritance of the British crown, enhanced the
gloom of the bereavement. But even when
this element is absent, when the succession is
firmly and assuredly established, there is a pang
that only the cynic and the selfish can repudiate.
Death is not gentler in the palace than in the
cottage ; there is so much more to lose. Even
those who care not for the institution of mon-
archy, from the great republic of North Amer-
ica came heartfelt sympathy. And who could
think unmoved of the scene, whether it had taken
place in cottage or in palace — the mother, that
graceful figure which never has lost the aflfection
of Englisnmen since the time, nearly thirty years
ago. when our laureate welcomed the
"Sea-king's daughter from over the sea," —
of the father who himself knew what it was to
enter into the very pains of death, and now haa
another lesson and w^arning. And of one other,
the affianced wife, maid and widow alike, whose
betrothal had called forth such unanimous ap-
proval and joy — one thinks of the words of
Shakespeare, which with such slight alteration
seems to be uttered by a whole nation :
YOUTH AND DEATH.
121
to
her,
^ose
|ap-
o£
tion
"I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife ;
I thought thy bridal to have decked, sweet maid.
And not have strewed (his) grave. "
I have said that in this event, political in-
terests are but slifjjhtly at all concerned. Per-
haps that enhances the true effect of the lesson,
and the simple tragedy of the event. The con-
nection of family ties with the institution of
monarchy has its advantages as well as dis-
advantages. Theorists may express preference
for the ideal of a single figure, like that of the
great Antonines, untrammelled by such ties, leav-
ing to adoption the future of the empire. But,
even if that method ensured all the virtues of
selection, it had the signal and fatal flaw of
running counter to natural feeling. The few
might have welcomed it, the many might yield
allegiance, but not that fervent love which springs
from sympathy. Granted all the evils whicli
unworthy descendants bring with them, granted
the increased expense, and the possible social
anomalies, yet the sight of a pure family life
around the throne is better for a nation than a
thousand victories. The sight of George III.
and his wife and children walking on the ter-
race at Windsor, and the knowledge of their
homely life, did more for loyalty than even
Chatham's eloquence or Wolfe's immortal vic-
tory. It had been the first spectacle of the sort
since the ill-fated Charles bade tearful farewell
I
122
YOUTH AND DEATH.
m^
■ .1
■ ■ i
1 ■
i
!|
to his children after receiving the sentence of
death. The second Charles had no children ;
his successor was virtually dethroned by his
daughter's consort. The two next monarchs
were childless, or left no offspring. The first of
the Hanoverians was separated from his queen,
and the second estranged from his eldest son.
But then came a truly English king, and the
loving simplicity of an English home as a
spectace and an example. And we have seen,
both old and young, the more recent spectacle
of a family reared by a wise father and a vir-
tuous mother, not indeed without its shadows
and omissions, but at least without any of the
hideous tragedies which ended the Bavarian
reign with a maniac's suicide, and covered the
imperial throne of Austria with irreparable
mourning. A nation's opinion is the opinion of
its majority; and I believe that this majority
would rather serve under an idealized and ele-
vated reflection of their own life, than under
the most enlightened ruler whose personal life
was isolated and self-contained.
But surely these sad and inevitable reflections
are not the only lesson from a young man's
sudden death ! Who can dare to say that his
vigor of constitution, his youth, his joy of life,
can guarantee him fifty years of existence, or
twenty, or ten, or one ? Not only David, dread-
ing the assassin's sword, not only the patient,
'1 ■■ , I
YOUTH AND DEATH.
123
longing for and yet fearing his physician's ver-
dict, but all of us, down to the very youngest,
must confess : " There is but a step between me
and death."
The soldier knows it as the bugle sounds the
advance, and the hurtling shot, and comrades
falling on either side warn him, but he sees the
colours before him, and remembers that it is
sweet and honourable to die for one's country.
The sailor goes alertly to his work, but he
knows that only a plank or a thin iron plate is
between him and an unfathomable ocean. The
engine-driver knows that one error of memory,
one failure from intemperance or sleep, may
hurl the passengers into the great unknown
future. Yes, every man and woman, however
retired their life, must know, if they are not
" more brutish than any man," if they are not
"Duller than the fat weed
That roots itself in ease on Lethe's wharf,"
that for us all, for the young man as the old,
for the rich as for the poor, for th^ retired as
for the active, for the pious as for the sinner —
" there is but a step between me and death."
Do our young men realize this ? Will the
death-bed of this young man, not bowed by
debility, trained in diligence and simple habits
of life, inured by wise counsels even in the
labours and fatigues of a seaman's life — will not
' f.
I
124
YOUTH AND DEATH.
if
III
this speak to some a message that has not yet
been grasped. " Remember also thy Creator in
the days of thy youth, or ever the evil days
come."
If you will be ready should a call come to
you, what must you do now ? There are four
duties of youth, four ordeals, which must be
surmounted if you will emerge from the mere
animal and mechanical life, if you will aspire to
fulfil your high vocation.
Firstly, to obey. There are some who are
startled at this despotic sentiment. " That may
be very well for the old country, with its aris-
tocracies and relics of feudalism, but it is not
for us. One man here is as good as another !'
How far the foolish indulgence of parents may
nourish this theory, I will not discuss, but I
challenge it. I deny it altogether.
No, one man is not as good as another ! There
is superiority and inferiority in character, there
is superiority and inferiority in ability, there is
superiority and inferiority in birth even, though
I do not mean by the rules of the Herald's Col-
lege, but the descent from pure and strong and
God-fearing ancestry. If a young man cannot
obey, he will never be fit to command, for he
will not command himself. One of the greatest
of German writers left this maxim, worthy of
being inscribed in letters of gold, and of being
the motto of each young man's aspiration :
YOUTH AND DEATH.
125
!''
lere
re is
and
mot
he
itest
of
iing
ion :
"Only under resfriction can a master prove
himself; and law alone can bring us freedom"
Obey then the authority which an educated
reason acknowledf^es. Obey — because it is pro-
fitable. Obey — because it is noble. And then,
even before you are aware, the call will come
to you : " Take thou authority ! Thou hast
been faithful in a small thing, enter into the
joy of the Lord."
And the next word is learn. "What have I
to learn ? (say some) and what use is learning
to me ? Will it make me richer, or more pow-
erful in any community ? I have been at school,
and perhaps at college. What more do I want ?"
The teaching of school and college, even when
every honor is obtained, means just one drop in
the ocean of knowledge. The youth worth
anything, the youth who will make a man in
time, is always eager to learn. Life is not half
long enough for his diligence, and only eternity
could suffice for his aspiration. But how often
we see ignorance, not merely contented but
supercilious and conceited. Yes, conceited of a
knowledge which is a minus quantity, not even
enough to discern its own ignorance. And true
knowledge is so humble, for its far sight dis-
cerns the distant mountain peaks, the passes not
yet traversed, the plains yet unsurveyed.
And the third ordeal is suffering — endurance,
the patience of the saints. Will you point to
m
ii
:\
i
"7 'I
i.j ;
126
YOUTH AND DEATH.
some who have never suffered, and I will show
you those whose moral stature is yet incomplete.
" Why need I suffer ? Let the weak suffer and
submit, and let me hold my own ! The fittest
survive and the weaker fail in the struggle of
life. A general might as well prefer and pray
for defeat as a man prefer suffering in the
world." I do not say that he shall pray for it ;
the concern is that when it comes he shall bear
it, and when it is past he shall thank God for
it. You cannot escape suffering, except by
making others suffer for you. And if that be
your lot, will there not be a future when the
memories of a selfish and sensual past shall be
the torture of an eternal present.
And the last word is conquer, and if you have
obeyed, and learned, and suffered, the rest is
clear — first to conquer oneself, then to conquer
evil around us. Then all is yours, and you
stand secure amid failure and calamity, and
death itself. You know then how near death
is — that there is but a step between you and
death, and you do not fear it. For it is not
darkness in the horizon, but (as the pilgrim in
the allegory found) a bright land visible beyond
the gloomy river. That river must be passed,
but it has no terror for the Christian. Only
through it can he be perfected. Only by that
passage can lie throw off all his weakness, and
obtain all his heritage. Only by the body's
YOUTH AND DEATH.
127
death can he come to know fully what here
he knows but in part, to know the Truth as
now he is known of G«I.
And if that spirit be oure. we have learned
he lesson of life, and can teach it to oZ.
Life we are to live, to utilize, and even to enjoy
(when such .s our Father's will), and then-
though the cup may be bitter, and we pray that
and peace, and even triumph, when we exclaim :
I r J
if
! I
II '
I I
II '<
''NEllUSHTAN."
Preached at St. John's Church, August 7th, isu:;
".And Hozukiah braku in pioci^s tlie bia.suii surpont
that Moses had mado : for unto those days the cliihlren of
Israel did l)urn incense unto it : and he called it Neliush-
tan."^ — 2 KiNiJS xviii. 4.
The liistoiy of Israel is the history of the
supernatural. Bil)lical scholarship can aid us ;
it can sift and classify, comment and interpret ;
it can furnish illustrations ; it can settle matters
of literary style, chronology, and authorship, or
at least mark out what is knowable at present
on these matters; but soon the boundary is
reached when the commentator is silent, the
oracle is dumb — the human intelligence has
spoken all it can, and it remains but to say, as
we ponder over the narrative of wonder,
"This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous
in our eyes."
There is no incident more wonderful than the
story of the Brasen Serpent, which we read in
the Book of Numbers. Wonderful in the miracle
* Margin, "A piece of brass."
" NEHUSHTAN."
129
isent
y '^'^
, tlie
has
w. as
UB
m
the
[ead in
iracle
itself, more wondorful, if possible, in the Divine
method of the miracle ; wonderful, almost inex-
plicable to us, as surely much nun'e to the
Israelites, in the seemin(^ r3versal of the strict
prohibition a<jjain.st the " makin<^ of an image or
similitude ; " wonderful in the selection of the
serpent, the cause of the plague, associated also
with the first temptation and sin of mankind.
Israel was near the end of the wandering in
the wilderness. They left Mount Hor, where
Aaron had died, and they marched southward in
order to avoid entering the land of Edom, which
had refused their request for passage. They were
almost in sight of the Red Sea, where associa-
tions of old should have aroused confidence in
God, but here the national weakness once more
obtained the upper hand. Once more the old
nmrmurs were heard, the spirit of mutiny arose.
It was the old cry : " Wherefore have ye hrowjht
us up out of Egypt to die in the ivllderness ? fur
there is no bread, neither is there any water;
and our soul loatheth this light bread." Their
contempt for the miraculous food so freely given
to them was soon to be punished. A swarm
of saraphs appeared, a species of peculiarly
venomous serpents, terrible from the burning
agony of their poison, which gav^e the epithet
of " fiery " or " burning " to them, and " much
people of Israel died." Terror bred remorse, or
at least the need for appeal. The people confess
their sin, and Moses pleads for them. And then
9
if
f|
hill
130
" NEHUSHTAN."
the command is received to make a brascn
8araj>h, and Hot it upon a pole. ''And it shall
covie to pusH thai every one that is bitten, when
he seetk it (or, looketh upon it) shall live." The
promi.se was fulfilled, the wounded were healed,
and so the history ends.
But we are enabled from a later narrative to
complete the history of the Brasen Serpent. It
was preserved and held in natural veneration.
It was carried into the Promised Land. We
know not in what hi^h place or shrine it was
preserved. We know not what protests were
mmxle, or by what means it survived the vicissi-
tudes of those troubled centuries
There are connnentators who endeavour to
explain away the narrative, and would persuade
us that the original brasen serpent could not
have been thus preserved ; that Samuel would
not have permitted its existence, or that it
woukl have been mentioned expressly in the
enumeration of the relics preserved in the ark.
There are difficulties here as elsewhere, but to
me at least there is greater difficulty in rejecting
a plain statement of an occurrence not anteced-
ently impossible.
When the good king Hezekiah ascended the
throne, he began by a thorough reformation of
existing abuses. " ffe removed the hii/h places"
— that is, the unlicensed shrines and local sanc-
tuaries; "/w brake the 'pillars" — monuments
which tended dangerously to similarity with
alt
len
Che
led,
I to
It
iion.
We
was
were
cissi-
ur to
ijuade
d not
ould
at it
In the
[e ark.
lUt to
|ecting
Lteced-
id the
lion of
places"
II sanc-
iments
with
" NEHUSHTAN."
131
Baal-worship, as the Asherah or groves to the
kindred worship of Astarte. And Inst of all,
greatest act of testimony to the purity of divine
worship — act of sacrilege to superstitious minds
— he laid hands upon that venerable relic which
for eight centuries had enlisted the worship
of successive generations. What an jistonish-
ment, what a pang of horror must have been
excited when the relic to which the people were
accustomed to burn incense, was brouglit forth,
and by the king's command broken in pieces !
And his wonl completed and explaine<l the act.
" He called it Nehushtan " — " a piece of brass."
He shamed them from the past idolatry. He
recalled them to the worship of the Living God.
And so the Brasen Serpent seems to vanish
from history with its destruction; but once
more, after lapse of time, it is recalled to mind.
Jesus Christ, in his colloquy with Nicodemus,
refers to it as a type of the elevation of Christ
upon the cross. "As Moses lifted up the serpent
in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man
be lifted up : that whosoever believetk in him
should not perish, but have everlastin<i life."
We must now turn back to the original story,
if we are to unravel the multifarious difficulties
which attend an effort to realise its lesson to
ourselves. There is the positive salvation, con-
nected in the past with the Brasen Serpent, as
with its antitype the Cross. There is the nega-
tive danger of superstition attaching to a symbol
i
' 1 t
j
,;:|ill
J (
^ ! i I
'|:i:|
132
«
NEHUSHTAN.
the most venerable and holy, and corrupting the
worship of God into idolatry of thft creature.
. At the very first sight there are difficulties.
Those commentators who have striven to show
that the original brasen serpent was not pre-
served, are not merely actuated by the possible
inclination to defend the use of the crucifix,
which even Lutherans do not exclude altogether,
but the fear of connecting the Jewish lapse with
Egyptian serpent-worship.
The U80 of an image in spite of the general
prohibition, and that image' the serpent, is a
mystery in itself. When Justin Martyr pressed
his Jewish opponent in the Dialogue for an
explanation, the reply is that the Teachers
cannot account for it. But we find light and
instruction in one of the so-called Apocryphal
Books. In the Book of the Wisdom of Solomon
we read (xvi. 5-7) :
"For when . . . they perished with the stings of
crooked serpents, thy wrath endured not forever. But
they were troubled for a small season, having a sign of
salvation, . . . for lie that turned himself toward it
was not saved by the thing that he saiVy but by Thee, that
art the Saviour of all."
And this is followed by the Talmud, which
explains the words in the Book of Numbers
thus : " It shall come to pass that if one bitten
look upon it, ha shall live, if hi^ heart he directed
to the Name of the Word of the Lord"
" NEHUSHTAN."
133
he
les.
ow
)re-
Ible
ifix,
her,
jvith
leral
is a
essed
»r an
.chers
b and
phal
Lomon
^ings of
But
I sign of
\oard it
tee, that
which
imbers
bitten
iirected
But a new aspect is introduced by Philo, who
makes this serpent the opposite of the serpent
of the temptation. " The serpent of Eve" he
says, ''was pleasure, hut the serpent of Moses
was temperance and endurance." Some of the
Christian writers took up this view. Ambrose,
for instance, speaks of the " good serpent which
sheds not poison, hut its antidotes." But here it
is impossible not to recall the fact that good
qualities were symbolised by the'serpent in that
curious form of pagan worship included in the
Indian and even the Greek and Roman mytho-
logies.
The serpent represents life and force, some-
times even eternity, and the quality of wisdom
sometimes included reminds one of the words
of Jesus : " Be ye wise as serpents, and harmless
as doves."
In other places it represents the local deity ; in
fact, there is no evil principle symbolised in any
pagan religion. It is only the religion of Israel
which proclaims the serpent was "more suhtil
than any beast of the field," and the source of
man's disobedience. -
For the Scripture presents the Serpent as the
symbol of the personal power of evil. So it was
in the miracle in the wilderness, where the evil
by which the people suffered is shown openly
as overcome. He who, looking upon the symbol,
recognized in it the sign of God's conquering
power, found in himself the effects of faith.
1
\l
V .
i
i
i
pi
;
•
!
i .' j ■■
mi ^ ^ 1
m
i
Hili
iii
liiin!
134
NEHUSHTAN
»
The evil was represented as overcome in a typi-
cal form (a brasen serpent), and not in an
individual form (a natural serpent), and there-
fore the application of the image was universal.
Let us then place the two incidents together,
as the Scripture does— the elevation of the
serpent and the elevation of Christ on the Cross.
We admit the curious analogies which might
convey a favourable symbolism to the serpent.
The author of the epistle ascribed to Barnabas,
and even Origen, inclined to this view, which
enlists the ingenuity of interpreters. But true
Biblical interpretation draws a firm line of
demarcation between the region of certainty
and the region of edifying possibility. We are
safe, and only then safe, by confining the analogy
to the matter of elevation and of faithful appeal,
even that of "looking unto Jesus, the author
and finisher of our faith." Great stress is laid in
this Gospel upon this " lifting up." " When ye
have lifted up the Son of Man," said Jesus, " then
shall ye know that I am he." And again, in
language still more prophetic : " And I, if I be
lifted up from the earth, shall draw all men
unto me." It is used also in reference to the
Ascension. Thus the words imply an exaltation
in appearance far different from that of the
triumphal king, and yet in its true issue leading
to a divine glory. For this [passage, through
the elevation on the Cross to the elevation on
the right hand of God, was a necessity arising
out of the laws of the divine nature.
" NEHUSHTAN."
135
of
iiogy
)peal,
ithor
id in
^n ye
then
|in, in
I be
men
,0 the
iation
»f the
lading
irough
Lon on
.rising
The great lesson, then, which unites Old and
New Testament, uttered in different words and
b^ means of different symbols, but essentially
the same, teaches that a Saviour at all times has
been lifted up for the salvation of men, and that
those who turn with faith to that Saviour shall
not look in vain.
That is a relatively simple lesson, though sub-
lime in its glorious message of grace. Now we
turn to the other side. The danger that attends,
like a dark cloud near the light, upon the very
borders of truth.
If ever there was a historical monument
which merited to receive the wondering admir-
ation of posterity, it must have been that
Brasen Serpent, which once had been God's
chosen symbol and effective sign of grace. Who
could look upon it unmoved, as he remembered
the terrible days of old — the fiery serpents, the
agonizing deaths, the frantic, piteous appeal, and
the pardon and rescue given by miracle ! Could
any behold without an inclination to worship,
to regard the past history as a present attribute,
the Divine appointment then as a magical charm
inherent in the object now ? Could they look
on it, and not worship ?
To the Jewish race, then, the idea was con-
tagious and the temptation irresistible. If the
deities of other nations could allure to a div' Jed
worship, to conciliate a possible force and hosti-
lity, why not an object known to have been an
I
i
F I
! - ' i
I 11
t i
fri
i
H *•'
130
" NEHUSHTAN."
instrument of power, and presumed to contain
that power in some latent form ? So we find
that, together with the pillars and the groves,
this venerable relic became a snare and even a
cause of sin. And therefore Hezekiah, in the
first fervour of his zeal, condemned it to the
same destruction. " He brake in pieces the
brasen serpent that Moses had made : for unto
those days the children of Israel did burn in-
cense unto it: and he called it Nehushtan," —
(sc, " that piece of brass.")
What lesson does this teach us applicable to
present times and present temptations ? The
great purifying work of Hezekiah finds a re-
markable parallel in the Reformation of the
sixteenth century. Then, as twc thousand years
before, false shrines were destroyed and evil
methods of true worship restrained. The mass
became a communion, the altar a table, images
and pictures were destroyed. Most significant
of all, the pictured cross was removed from the
walls of churches. This must have caused a
pang CO many minds. It must have been a
breach with old associations. " Can there be
harm in it?" many must have exclaimed. "Are
we not told that from the Cross comes our salva-
tion ? May we not then adore the Cross, or the
image which pictures the Saviour extended
upon it ? "
Those who have travelled in Koman Catholic
countries and have seen the large crosses erected,
((
NEHUSHTAX.
137
in
ncl
es,
I a
the
the
the
into
in-
j>
^, —
le to
The
a re-
c the
ears
evil
mass
iages
Ificant
the
[sed a
leen a
sre be
"Are
isalva-
lor the
.ended
itholic
:ected,
with the figure representing in crude outline
and colours the aofonies of death, have seen that
against wliich the Reformation protested. Tht^^
have seen its logical sequel also. For, as with
Israel, the almost excusable veneration for the
Brasen Serpent led on to the worship of Baal
and Ashtoreth, so the crucifix is almost lost
amidst the innumerable objects of worship —
pictures of saints, the symbols of their suffer-
ings, relics of their bodies, dress, and habitation.
Where was the barrier to be erected ? What
adoration of a creature was right, and what was
wrong ? And the Reformation answered, as
Hezekiah had answered of old, that all creature-
worship, and all that tended to creature-wor-
ship, was of evil.
There is no symbol more glorious to the
Christian than the Cross. From childhood,
engraven upon the heart, there are pictures
which need no human pencil. We see Jesus
fainting under His cx'oss, on the way to death ;
we see that cross erected, and the divine figure
there extended ; we hear, as if spoken now, the
gracious words of pardon to enemies and of love
to His own. We hear the voice that tells us
that salvation is completed, that the work of
Christ is finished. We know for what purpose
the Saviour was lifted upon the Cross — " that
ivhosoever helieveth^'may in Him have eternal
lifer
Do we need, ought we to desire, to leave the
W'
V
' i
: > i
4 1
i
1
ri
BssBBoaataHi
;-!
138
" NEHUSHTAN."
person for the instrument — the crucified Saviour
who should be in our hearts for the emblem
which can be touched and handled ? One ser-
vice of our Reformed Church, it is true, retains
once, as a curious survival, the use of the manual
sign of the Cross, but the Rubric apologetically
refers to a canon of the Church which expressly
disavows and condemns all adoration of the
symbol ; and all should be aware that this inci-
dent of the baptismal service forms no part of
the sacramental sign, which has for its abso-
lutely indispensable criterion that it should be
" ordained by Christ Himself !'
There have been times in the history of the
Jewish, as of the Christian Church, when there
was need to teach the duty and value of out-
ward signs of devotion. In those disorganized
days when Samuel was prophet and judge, he
had more constructive work to do than to
repress any nascent feeling of veneration for
the Brasen Serpent. When men were hardly
to be brought to worship Jehovah at all, it was
not the time to teach an unnecessary lesson.
And so, in modern days which some of the
oldest can faintly remember, when the services
in village churches, and often in cities also, were
performed negligently, carelessly, irreverently —
there was need for the minister of God to incul-
cate reverence in outward things ; as even now
there are too many who, in the name of Protes-
tantism, furnish the most efficient weapon to the
" NEHUSHTAN.'
139
em
mer-
lins
lual
ally
issly
the
inci-
ft of
Bibso-
Ld be
,f the
there
: out-
mized
enemies of Protestantism, by neglect of decency
and order.
But wlien the tide runs the other way — when
superstition is the religious epidemic, and the
outward symbol obscures the inward grace —
then the need is different. Then Hezekiah
destroys that national monument which has be-
come an idol, and calls it " that thing of brass."
Then the faithful minister warns against the
insidious growth of that erroneous devotion
which mistakes the shadow for the substance,
the symbol for the reality. He teaches that
God is a Spirit, and they that worship him must
worship in spirit and in truth.
The Cross of Christ, brethren, should have no
need of outward aid to imprint it on the mem-
ory of Christians. Jesus tells us that unless we
take up the Cross we cannot be His disciples ;
but that means far other and far more than to
place a crucifix on our table. St. Paul will not
glory, save in the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ,
by whom the world is crucified unto him. Even
if we take the alternate reading — " by which"
i.e., by the Cross itself — that will not obscure
the meaning for an instant. The Cross is the
efficient instrument for Christ, and Christ for
us. By this He reconciled us, and "abolished
in His flesh the enmity, even the law of com-
mandments contained in ordinances;" by this
He "reconciled them both in one body unto
God." Or, as he says elsewhere, "He hath taken
%
iMi
' i i
m
'III!
Ill
^ ii
! I
I !•
Jl I
I '^}
II!
140
" NEHUSHTAN."
it (tliis law of ordinances) out of the way, nail-
ing it to the Cross."
That Cross has done its work, once and for
ever, and for us now the Saviour is our glorified
Intercessor. The cross which we have to take
is the life of humility, patience, perseverence in
well-doing. We cannot picture it except in the
struggle of daily life. To fancy tliat we can
attain the same end by looking at a symbol,
even with a sense of worship, or that we can pay
off the service of our heart by some outward
discipline of the body, is the most fatal of delu-
sions. Our object of worship will prove, at the
last, to be mere Nehushtan, the piece of brass
or wood, as helpless as the pagan idol, and
without its plea of ignorance. But to those
whose life has been the Cross, and their gaze
fixed upon the Saviour, the promise is sure —
* They shall not perish, but have eternal life."
THE FINISHED COURSE.
J'reackea at St. John's Church, September nth. im. after tk,
death of BUhop Medley.
"I have finished the course."— 2 Tim. iv. 7. b v
The force of an illustration varies with the
m.ncl of the receiver. " He that hath eara to
but e pecially the teaching by metaphor and
parable. To some, in this age of florid and
reahstic description, St. Paul's words mil seem
colorless and tame; but to the masters of language
to those who weigh the value of each word as
of a com fresh from the mint of thought and
expression, above all to those who u„de,.tand
St. Pauls use of condensed imagery, these few
and simple words carry a deep and a pathetic
meamng The course was his life, the L that
now lay behind him. " I ar. no:, ready tX
offerea he says, "tU time of ,ny departure is
at hand. I have fought a good fight ; I have
finished my course."
He looked back, from the time of that second
Koman imprisonment, upon the vista of pa^t life
h.s childhood, education under Gamaliel, his eager
■
1
ll
i ■
:'i
1
: ( i
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1
1 1
(;.
1 ,
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'^!
I:!
I I
I i
ii .
1
i
i
n
1
1
' i
1
1
!
142
THE FINISHED COURSE.
devotion to the national cause and faith, his zeal
against Christianity, the persecution and stoning
of Stephen, the fateful journey to Damascus,
the conversion, probation, first ministry, trials,
travels, failures, succcesses: "In weariness and
painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and
thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness."
And what after ? The sword of the Roman
executioner, and then — the Master's welcome.
All lives are not like this, but every Christian
life has and must have the element of combat,
and, above all, of completion. The course must
be entered, and it must be finished. It is the
faint human echo of the great proclamation
from the Cross, which our lips may utter. But
not all can utter it. So many sink exhausted
in the course. So many turn aside to what
seems easier competition, and a more attractive
reward. But to those that continue there is
the certain reward. "He that endureth unto
the end, the same shall be saved."
Many of you have heard that one whose life
from any point of view was noble and memorable,
has " finished the course." Already from many
quarters (the columns of the press, that daily pul-
pit of the nineteenth century, with its myriad
congregations and its boundless choice of topic),
words of generous acknowledgment, of merited
recognition have gone forth. Praise almost un-
mingled, and yet truth, for there are lives where
the old and abused maxim, "nil nisi honum
THE FINISHED COURSE
143
eal
iiig
cus,
ials,
and
and
ess.
»inan
stian
nibat,
must
is the
:\atioT^
But
bUsted
what
•active
lere is
unto
)se life
iorable,
many
lily V^^'
Imyriad
topic)*
lerited
lost un-
Is where
honii'ni
mortuiti" can bo exchanijfcd for the better ren-
dering, " nil n'm verum." But we can do more
tlian eclio the words of praise that are on the
lips of all, irrespective of creed and party. At
the end of a course so long and so eventful we
can judge, we can anticipate posterity itself, for
many of us are the posterity of that generation
which gave birth to John Medley, Bishop of
Fredericton. •
To understand a man rightly, we must under-
stand his generation, its passions and aspira-
tions. We cannot yet judge our own age, and
therefore our ephemeral verdicts will often be
refuted by the logic of later experience. But
we can judge the generation of the First Reform
Bill of 1830, the men who longed for a liberty
which, if to modern views meagre and inade-
quate, then meant almost a legal revolution —
the generation of Brougham and Rom illy, of
Russell and Grey, when Carlyle and Tennyson
were but hopeful youths unknown to fame;
. when Jeremy Bentham was the political prophet
of the new generation, and Wordsworth its poet;
when Cobbett's pen was still keen and dreaded ;
when Canning's silvery eloquence had but re-
cently been silenced in the grave That was
an age of force and hope and action ; an age
when the leaders of men were kings, and even
the humble followers shared the heroic spirit.
And what of religious life ? Every vigorous
generation finds its best force reflected here.
144
THE FINISHED COURSE.
IP
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Fifty years. before it was the evangelical revival
which lifted up the Church of England from
sloth and inditterence, which enlisted the ardent
championship of laymen like Wilberforce, and
the sympathy of those who approved the good,
v^ven /hile they nejijlected its practical precepts.
So it was again in 1830, but the tide was
turning. Another aspect of religion occupied
the minds of leaders, and was preparing
to arouse the enthusiasm of their followers.
Around these leaders, men of great aljility and
singular personal force, John Henry Newman,
Hurrell Froude, Wm. Palmer and John Keble,
recruits flocked from every quarter. Fifty
years before the Gospel had been the cry. Now
it was the Church and her services. Many have
endeavored to estimate the nature and results of
what is named the Oxford or Tractarian or High
Church movement Whatever be the verdict
upon late^ aberrations of inferior successors,
there is jeption here to the invariable rule
tha+ ^ great and durable movement is
noVj. .1 its beginnings. How else could it have
attracted the sympathy of all that was best of
young England, even those who never became
active disciples ; even at first those who after-
wards became hostile ? Not only eminent law-
yers like Phillimore and the elder Coleridge,
statesmen like Sydney Herbert and the present
prime minister of England ; scholars like Mark
Pattison (who obediently translated " Lives of
THE FINISHED COURSE.
H.-)
ival
roiu
lent
and
;oo(l,
epts.
was
ipied
aring
)wers.
f and
vman,
Keble,
Fifty
I^ow
y have
iults of
High
verdict
cessors,
ble rule
ent is .
it have
best of
became
o after-
ent law-
oleridge,
present
ie Mark
Lives of
Saints" at the bidding of Newman); brilliant
literary men like the younger Froude, afterwards
t(» pass to a position of direct antagonism — all
these swelled the movement for the revival of
church life, and the emphasis upon those tenets
which were supposed particularly to represent
doctrine. Not only in themselves, but by con-
trast with other religious parties at that time,
the Tractarians had the advantage. A cold
officialism prevailed among the bishops; the
survivors of the older evangelicals had become
narrow and had lost their former enthusiasm ;
the liberal school of Jeremy Taylor and Tillot-
son was represented by hard and meagre teachers
like Hampden, who did not make up by scien-
tific eminence for personal unattractiveness. In
a word, all that was generous, earnest, of high
aspiration, and of over-mastering zeal, was then
on the side of the new movement ; as before
with the evangelicals, and not long afterwards
with the school of Maurice and Trench and
Charles Kingsley. But what is description coiti •
pared to personal knowledge? The inhabitants
of my own ecclesiastical province have known
the spirit of the original Oxford movement
better than any history could teach you, in a
man who reflected what was best in it. I said
that in the epochs of great movements even the
lesser warriors are heroes; but our lamented
bishop in any period, under any conditions,
would have gained far more than a mere name
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146
THE FINISHED COURSE.
in the catalogue of obscure subordinates, more
than a mere mention, as of the " brave Gyas and
the brave Cloanthus" who fill up a line but
hardly leave a memory. We knew the man of
fixed opinions, fuUv assured in his own mind,
and speaking thai mind without fear or favour.
He may not have practised, he may not even
have conceived the modern philosophical toler-
ance based upon a historical comparison of dif-
fering theological views. But his intolerance,
if it deserved that stigma, was simply the intol-
erance of Martin Luther against Erasmus and
Zwingli, the intolerance of John Knox against
prelacy, of Calvin against Servetus — that is to
say, the repugnance felt and expressed for
opinions which a man only partly understands,
and wholly dislikes.
But the people of his diocese knew him in
other aspects than as a staunch upholder of one
school of thought in the Church of England.
We knew him, and I know that all respected and
were proud of him, as the many-sided man, the
man whose entrusted talents had not been few,
and had been richly increased — the man who in
many, if not all intellectual qualities, stood above
those who met him and opposed him. Holiness
and spiritual zeal, we know, are the first and
greatest qualities in a minister of religion.
Their presence will condone and even transfigure
mental deficiencies; their absence reduces all
talents and capacities to mere sounding brass.
THE FINISHED COURSE.
147
)re
md
but
of
ind,
our.
sven
iler-
dif-
Eince,
ntol-
1 and
rainst
is to
1 for
tands,
Lim in
)f one
land,
edand
|in, the
few,
who in
above
oliness
st and
eligion.
isfigure
ces all
brass.
Nevertheless, and this is especially true in a
democratic age and in a voluntary church, the
power of personal force and of intellectual ac-
quirement is mighty. Laymen respect doubly
the man who, in their own professions, could
have been their equal or superior, could have
easily amassed fortune instead of the precarious
competence of his lot.
A man whose knowledge of art would have
made him an authoritative critic, who could have
been a successful architect, who was a musician
in the highest sense, creative as well as receptive,
such a man is the living exception in an age of
narrow specialisms and borrowed opinions. But
two gifts were especially his, powers which, if not
indispensable for a minister of God, are invalu-
able helps, the one for the work of rightly di-
viding the word of truth, the other as the means
of making its teachings clear, intelligible, and
felt by the heart. I mean scholarship and elo-
quence. When we speak of a " scholar " we
comprise two distinct types in one descriptive
word. The scholar par excellence, indeed, is the
man who can levote all his life not only to study,
but (in these days) to one particular branch of
learning; who has access to every work of
reference or means of illustration ; who receives
and notes almost each day the results, dis-
coveries or conjectures of other students in other
parts of the world ; who grudges not a month's
incessant labor (if needful) to verify a single
148
THE FINISHED COURSE.
I ' i
I! '
thi
>:' i
n '
i
reference, or correct a single verbal error. Learn-
ing is a hard task-mistress, and her votaries
must sacrifice at her shrine joy and strength and
life itself. But there is another class which may
claim the epithet " scholarly," and indeed, in a
s ^ondary degree, the title of " scholars" them-
selves. Those, namely, who, while engaged in
some active profession, are always aiming to in-
crease their stock of knowledge ; who having
enjoyed the advantage of a sound education
regard it not as a stock for life, but the mere
commencement of a life-long increase. Then it
is that we find taste pure, and judgment sober,
and reasoning sound, and above all these quali-
ties something of a sweet reasonableness which
comes only to those who have compared the
thoughts of many minds, and know how much
is open to question and has been questioned even
by competent intelligence. Far from such think-
ers is the cheap sneer of the sciolist or the bla-
tant assertion of the controversialist who has
drawn his recent learning from the encyclopaedia.
They recognize, like Newton, that knowledge is
a vast ocean, and students but the children
gathering pebbles on its infinite shores.
And the other great gift he possessed was
utterance, both by voice and writing. Not his
the popular eloquence which is advertised and
sent to market ; not his the power, and far less
the inclination, to startle and puzzle and excite
to laughter in sacred places, or to the vulgar
THE FINISHED COURSE.
149
m-
ies
md
aay
n a
em-
l in
3 111-
ving
ition
mere
len it-
sober,
quali-
wbich
d the
inucli
deven
think-
ebla-
has
)p8edia.
[edge is
lildren
jd was
iNot his
led and
1 far less
|cl excite
vulgar
admiration which demands a coarse sustenance.
But his was that true eloquence which depends
upon accurate thought and exquisite fitness of
language, pulsating with true feeling, like the
gentle rise and fall of billows in a summer sea.
And when that true eloquence is aided by the
inflections of a voice like his, by an utterance
simple, distinct, earnest, and coming from the
heart, it is a power of God, which even oppo-
nents admitted with ungrudging admiration, and
friends look back upon now with the sad con-
sciousness that no Elisha will receive his mantle.
Let me quote to you two passages taken (almost
at random) from the volume of sermons he pub-
lished on his coming to this country. In one
he is speaking of church music, a subject in
which none possessed greater competence. He
is urging the duty of making music the fit hand-
maid of the sacred words of chant and psalm
and hymn :
" Shall we," he says, " sing the subjects of the
Psalms, or the birth, the sufierings, and the vic-
tories of the Son of God, the conflicts of His
church, the mercies of His covenant love, the
dread realities of an approaching judgment, the
glories of heaven, the terrors of hell, in strains
of light and earthly festivity ? These surely
require a severe and masculine style, a sober,
dignified, awful devotion. The strains which
delight the world are foreign to the Church,
and should be banished from her walls. The
Mil
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THE FINISHED COURSE.
sententious gravity, solemn grandeur, and rich
fulness of the words to be sung, dictate beyond
all question the kind of music to which those
words are to be set ; a kind which is as distinct
from all other music as the Bible is distinct from
every other kind of writing. Happily, there is
no lack of such music in the works of our older
masters, and never was the saying of our Saviour
more appropriate than in reference to this sub-
ject, that 'no man having drunk old wine straight-
way desire th new ; ' for he saith, * The old is
better.' "— [" Sermons," 1845, p. 388.]
Or this passage from a harvest sermon upon
the parable of the Wheat and Tares :
" To us who live in the midst of a careless,
sinful world, eternity seems at so vast, so im-
measurable a distance, that it is as if it would
never come. Men die and pass away from the
scene of their earthly pilgrimage, but the world
forgets them ; the sympathy of the world is
brief, its friendship is hollow and selfish, its
cares are many, its business is pressing, its plea-
sures are multiplied, and in the midst of this
bustling, noisy life, it seems as if it would never
come to an end.
" Responsibility is forgotten ; the account
which each of us shall give of himself is hid
and out of sight ; life seems the reality, but eter-
nity an unreal and shadowy thing, a tale of
priests, a jest, a dream. Such is too often our
view of life ; but this shadow (as we term it)
THE FINISHED COURSE. 151
lengthens upon us, and draws nigh in spite of
all ; life, though it grows busier, waxes feebler ;
character is rapidly formed and fixed, and ere
we are aware of it, we ripen for etp- :ty and
pass rapidly into it. Our trial :., : .,,nger—
our fixed state begins:'— [Ibid, p., 2bc^.j
That clear statement in the last words of the
Scriptural doctrine of the Church of England is
most valuable, coming from those lips which
still speak to us even in o> nth, and, in the face
of the dangerous teaclnngs which now are beintr
introduced.
That with death trial ends, and the "fixed
state " begins, or, in St. Pauls words, that the
course is finished, and the reward is then " laid
up" - that is at once the dread warning to the
sinner, and the consolation of the righteous.
And his " fixed state " is begun now, and it is a
state of rest and joy. We know not, brethren,
the mysteries of the future state, nor can we
describe the consolation of those who rest in
Abraham's bosom with Lazarus, or who enter
into the Paradise where it was promised once
that a penitent sinner should enter on the very
day of his confession of faith. But whatever
incrrase in happiness may succeed the final con-
summation, to which martyrs and saints look
forward- that "day" when the Lord, the right-
eous judge, shall bestow the "crown of right-
eousness," the same Apostle Paul declares that
to depart is to " be with Christ."
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152
THE FINISHED COURSE.
With Christ, his beloved Master, rests our
good Bishop and pastor. He has bequeathed us
an example, to all of us. Not in this opinion or
that practice, but in the scheme of his whole
life. He has left to Canada an example of a
type which, whether in the Mother Country or
the colonies, tends sadly to diminish — that of
the gentleman who needs no lavish surroundings
to prove his position and maintain his dignity,
who is equal to himself in all circumstances, the
chivalry of modern times which does not need (as
the knights of old) imprisoned heroines or fabled
giants in order to prove fidelity and prowess.
He has left us the example of a citizen who was
an honor to his adopted country, avoiding no duty,
grudging no obligation, but knowing that it w^as
in the due performance of his own work that he
best proved his citizenship. Rarely he offered
counsel, more often it was asked of him, and
then he gave the ripe fruit of a keen intelli-
gence, a wide knowledge of the world, and a
profound sense of wdiat was due to a country's
or a city's honour. And to us, his subordinates,
his spiritual children especially, he has left an
example most precious and yet most exacting.
Though he never concealed his own firm and
strong convictions, no one could have been, in
his later days as I knew him, more tolerant
of legitimate difference, more courteous to
adverse opinion within the limits of our Church.
What that example was in munificent generosity
THE FINISHED COURSE.
153
in anxious care for his subordinates, in en-
couragement to young ministers, in scrupulous
performance of duty, that is known to us all.
May it be ours to follow in his footsteps. May
his constant prayers for this his beloved diocese
be heard. May the good providence of God
help us at the present time ; assist our present
bishop, the successor of a historical episcopate,
the mheritor of difficult responsibilities.
May we, one and all, so fight the good fight
that with the end of life we may also say with
him, " I have finished the course, I have kept
the faith ; henceforth there is laid up for me the
crown of righteousness."
i !
f I
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'.H.
BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
MONTANISM AND THE PRIMITIVE
CHURCH,
A Study in the Ecdesiastical History of the Second Century.
8vo. Price, $1.00. 1878.
((
• • • ^'Xt" ^^, ^^^^ ^"*^ *^®^® we are not quite of the same
opinion as Mr. de Soyres. we must admit that he ha' To
duced a work which no future student of the second century
Review "«g^^«<^- ""S- Cheetham, in Contempo^Zl
tiJePtrSf ^"i!''' ^" w^^^hem der Verfasser diesor tiich-
tigen Arbeit gekommen . . . ist nicht neu ; es ist von G
^esS %'prvr/' ^'r^'S "•.^- -S^^^-hnt, resp.lst:
gestellt. Der Verfasser hat das 8einige dazu gethan, um es
'•The task has been performed with careful research
united with a broad outlook and the preservatLii of a
catholic spirit, which make the volume, comparatively small
as It IS, one of real va\uG."~Theolog{cai Review. ^
V The little work is a storehouse of varied, well-selected
and digested learning on the subject. "-JB/a^a^nJr '
PASCALS PROVINCIAL LETTERS.
8vo. Price, $1.50. 1881.
"Der gelehite Herausgeber hat sich eine zweifache Auf-
gabegestelt . Der eis ti Theil dieser Aufgabe kaun als
wohl gelost gelten. Die historischen und kritilchen Aumor
kungen zu den einzehuen Briefen verdicuen votter Auer-
keannuf."— Z2^ Centrcdhlatt.
"This is a sumptuous critical edition of Pascal's immortal
eighteen letters. The editor gives an accurate text, wi th aU
necessary historical notes, besides introductory essays and
indexes of persons and subjects. It is surprising that this
i
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task has not been executed before. Mr. <le Soy res, already
known by his essay on • Montanism,' has done his work very
well." — Church Quarterly Hetnew, 1881.
"A book which aims, and may justly claim, to bo a
scholar's edition." — Mark Pattison, in Academy.
" An excellent edition of Pascal's celebrated letters . . .
illustrated by ample and scholarly notes." — The late Dean
Church, in the Ouardian.
CHRISTIAN REUNION,
Being the HULSEAN LECTURES for 1886.
Price, $1.00. 1888.
8vo.
"The valuable and learned lectures, to which Bishop
Westcott has called my attention." — Archrishoi' Benson.
"Hier beweist der Verfasser seine umfassende geschieh-
tliche Bildung, weiss bei aller gedriiugten Klirze eine Fiille
von vStoff zu bewiiltigen, mulhet den Leser durch die Vor-
nehmheil seines Stils wie seiner Gedauken an, und wirkt
zugleich eihebend durch die freudigo Zuversicht mit der er
eine StofF behandelt, der duich zahllore unerfullte Hoff-
nungen uns fast zu einein uuliebsan\en geworden ist," — S.
EcK, in Theol. Lilt. Zeitung.
"With wide knowledge and with sympathetic apprecia-
tion, Mr. de Soyres has briefly sketched in these lectures
some of the efforts for the reunion of Christendom which
have been made in the last three hundred years." — Ouardian.
A WORD-BOOK FOR STUDENTS OF
ENGLISH HISTORY.
Second Edition. Price^ 25 cents. 1891 .
3ady
very
bo a
Dean
8vo.
Bishop
SON.
jchieh-
! Fiille
ie Vor-
wirkt
der er
i Hoff-
it."-S.
jprecia-
lectures
I which
lardian.
OF