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■■^**^^fe-..»a*A<fc*i(*--.-vw*»-''

PUI

PUNSHON'S SERMONS.

>^-;-?- hiii^vii riL-i/fSicyia*ii(»^ii.

A ]

SERMONS

1 EV. WILLIAM MORLEY PUINSHON.

TO WHICH IS P.(EFI.\KI>

A PLEA FOR CLASS-MEETINGS,

WITH

ymto

AN INTR0DUCT10l«BY H. MlLBURN

SAN FRANCISCO, CAL:

E. THOaiAS, 711 MISSION STREET.

1868.

^i'Jt.

v Km mm ■with

SEP 1 8 waft

INTRODUCT

FRELIMINA

<r.— MEM(

II.— THE

III.— THE

IV.— SOLK

v.— THE :

VI.— ZEAL

VII.— THE <

VIII— THE ]

IX.-THE
DUl

X.— THE i

XI.— THE ]

XII.— THE

LESl

<9-

CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTFON ox Rev. W. U. Milbdrn t

PRELIMINARY PLEA FOR CLASS-MEETINGS 21

|.— MEMORIES OF THE WAY, 43

II.— THE BELIEVER'S SUFFICIENCY 67

III.— THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT, 93

IV.— SOLICITUDE FOR THE ARK OF GOD, 119

v.— THE INCARNATION OF CIIRfST, 139

VI.— ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST, \&%

VII.— THE CHRISTIAN'S INHERITANCE, 183

VlII— TUB HEAVENLY CONQUEROR, 2O6

IX.-THE CHRISTIAN'S DEATH, LIFE, PROSPECTS AND

DUTY 227

X.— THE APOSTLES GROUND OF TRUST, 249

XL— THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION, 276

XIL— THE PROPHET OF HOREB-HIS LIFE AND ITS

LESSONS 297

On a brig
frequent in !
lodgings, Li
in a soathw<
The edifice
Almighty (
Rev. Willi
him, and wi
called the ii

As I reac
mencing th
introduced,
hear. He e
rather inclii
I should sa]
ing or expn
voice rathei

His dress
closely app
lished chui
the uniforn
we entered

INTRODUCTION.

On a bright sunshiny morning (and such were strangely
frequent in London in the summer of 1857) I drove from my
lodgings, Little Ryder street, St. James', two or three miles
in a southwesterly direction to Brixton Hill Wesleyan Chapel.
The edifice was that day to bo dedicated to the worship of
Almighty God, and the preacher on the occasion was tho
Rev. William Moulby Punsuox. I had heard much of
him, and was naturally desirous to listen to one who was
called the most eloquent of living Wesleyan preachers.

As I reached the chapel in advance of the time for com-
mencing the service, I entered the vestry, where I was
introduced, among others, to the preacher I had come to
hear. He seemed a man about five feet ten inches in height,
rather inclined to corpul<ucy, for one of his age (not then,
I should say, above thirty-four), with by no means a strik-
ing or expressive face when in repose, and possessed of a
voice rather husky and not at all prepossessing.

His dress was that of all Wesleyan ministers in England,
closely approaching the style of the clergy of the estab-
lished church — the invariable white neck-tie surmounting
the uniform of black, Tho appointed hour arrived, and
we entered the chapel.

Tit

INTUDDUCTIOS,

Tlio prayers of tho clmrch of England— cxceptuig the
Litany — wero read by tlio Hupcrintendcnt of tho circuit
from a desk on one side of the dianccl. Mr. Punshon then
mounted a dehk t)H tho other Hide of tho chancel, gave out
a hymn, and offered a brief extemporaneous prayer.

His reading was not at all impressive, and I began to
wonder whether, indeed, ho could be an orator. In truth,
1 had been so often disappointed that I had almost como to
regard a reputation for eloquence as primd facie evidence
against a man's possessing it, and I was tempted to think
in this case, that I was once more befooled. Tho preacher
took his text and proceeded with tho discourse. A
brief exegetical introduction was followed by the annoimce-
mcnt of tho points ho meant to treat. The arrangement
of tho sermon was textual, methodical and ■Wcsleyan.
The English take far less latitude in such matters than
we. Tho "Weslcyans are Wesleyans indeed, imbued with
the spirit and almost adhering to tho letter of our Great
Founder. Well-nigh every sermon has its three heads, and
each head its three subdivisions, and at tho conclusion of the
third " thirdly," comes a close, searching, and practical appli-
cation. This stylo seems to be considered almost indispens-
able to orthodoxy, and forms a striking contrast to the large,
often latitudinarian, and frequently helter skelter freedom of
style allowed in this country, where all manner of truth,
and even imtruth, is preached from any text that may be
selected, under the plea that the style is "topical."

The form of the English pulpit obliges the preacher to ad-
here to a pulpit manner. It is modelled upon the shape of
the little wooden boxes we see in Roman Catholic churches
in this country, affording room for one person only — accops

to it being

when you I

overlookini.

feet above

practised 1

he Avill or

laws of gi

the stern ]

Tiie plut

more), in i

the people

ence, and

imbuing t

advance u]

ambo of t

ing-groun(

ficant — all

Tho El

reach aftc

its range

logical pli

language

looseness.

To the

to models

and horta

of words,

English ]

something

me, that

standing

INTRODUCTION.

— cxceptuig the

of the circuit
'. Punshon then
lajiccl, gave out
1 prayer.

ami I began to
ator. In truth,

almoHt come to
t facie evidenco
smptcd to think
, The preacher

discourse. A
>y the announce-
lic arrangement

and Wesleyan.
jh matters than
lod, imbued with
ter of our Great
three heads, and
conclusion of the
d practical appli-
almost indlspens-
rast to the large,
\:elter freedom of
manner of truth,
cxt that may be
topical."

ic preacher to ad-
pon the shape of
Catholic churches
•son only — nccoss

to it being gained by a long fliglit of winding stepp, and
when you have toiled to the dizzy lieight, you fmd yourself
overlooking tlio galleries, and perelied, perhapH twenty
feet above the iloor. Not u little sell-control must be
inactised by tiio preacher, and he is compelled, wlietlier
he will or not, to pay a good deal of attention to tlie
laws of gravitation, and other decorous regulations, or
the stern jjcnalty of u tuiublo maybe enforced upon hin\.
The platform of this country (for our pulpits arc nothing
more), in its slight elevation above the floor, its nearness to
the people, its susceptibility to impression from the audi-
ence, and tlio vantage-ground it affords the preacher ftu-
imbuing the hearers with his own sympathies, is a great
advance upon the English desk, and a near approach to tho
ambo of the early Church. Tl>c diflerencc, as to tho stand-
ing-ground of the preachers of the two countries, is signi-
ficant—almost symbolic— of the difference of tlieir styles.

The English seem to fancy, that our method, in its
reach after the people, its disloy.alty to technical rule,
its range of illustration, and its disuse of a strict theo-
logical phraseology, as well as in its free adoption of the
language of common life, borders upon a reprehensible
looseness.

To the American, on the other hand, the close adherence
to models, the almost single variation between a dogmatic
and hortatory style, and the employment of a limited range
of words, not so much Scriptural as conventional, make tlio
English pulpit appear formal. No doubt each could learn
something of advantage from the other ; and it seemed to
me, that Mr. Punshon occupied tho enviable position of
standing midway between the two, with many of the

INTRODUCTION,

advantages of both. He is systematic, yet untrammelled,
and while technical in his arrangement, he is still free and
varied in illustration. Confining himself to the legiti-
mate themes of the pulpit, he at the same time docs not
despise the use of general literature. His aim seems to be
to make men Christians — either to convert them from sin, or
to establish them in holiness, not to teach them political
economy, to educate them in aisthetics, to afford them
brilliant disquisitions in metaphysical science, or to enforce
on them the flattering assurance, that the private soul (that
is, the essential me) is higher and grander than society,
state, church, law, or Scripture.

The staple of his discourses, when I heard him, concerned
man's spiritual and eternal welfare, and did not consist in
flowers, stars, breezes or clouds. I should say that he is
better read in the writings of St. Paul and St. John, than
in those of the Gnostics, and that he holds the canon of
Scripture to be binding upon men, as a rule of faith and
practice.

As to politics, I have a suspicion (but I can only state it
as a suspicion, for I heard him say nothing on the subject),
that he prefers the English Revolution of 1688, to the
French Revolution of 1789 ; and that he holds the powers
that be, are ordained of God, and not of the Devil ; and
therefore, if he taught anything on the subject, that he
would teach fealty to the constitution of the land m which
he live", loyalty to the law, obedience to constituted
authority, as the duty of eveiy good citizn, and not, that
insubordination and revolution are the crowning glories of
every regenerate soul. He is liberal, but his liberality is
not the equivalent of a contempt for orthodoxy ; and while

hi
es

di
to
th

j«
of

of
n(
yc
fo]
ve
sei

as
ov
foi
at

gc
yo

foi

BU(

is I
toi

matic, yet untrammelled,
ument, he is still free and
5 biraself to the legiti-
the same time does not
•e. His aim seems to be
convert them from sin, or
to teach them political
:sthetics, to afford them
ical science, or to enforce
hat the private soul (that
id grander than society,

en I heard him, concerned
c, and did not consist in
I should say that he is
, Paul and St. John, than
it he holds the canon of
en, as a rule of faith and

>n (but I can only state it
f nothing on the subject),
volution of 1688, to the
that he holds the powers
ad not of the Devil ; and
on the subject, that he
ition of the land in which
obedience to constituted
;ood citizen, and not, that
re the crowning glories of
iberal, but his liberality is
for orthodoxy ; and while

INTKODUCnON.

some of his countrymen may esteem hir^ a progressive, I
hardly think his progressiveness consists in the recently
expounded doctrine of consistency, " be true to yourself to-
day — no matter what you said or did yesterday " — that is
to say, progress and the weathercock are one and the same
thing.

As Mr. Punshon advanced in his discourse on that pleas-
ant June morning, an occasional emphasis, applied with
judgment, betokened the practical speaker ; and the finish
of his sentences betrayed thorough preparation. As ho
warmed to his work, quickening at the same time the gait
of bis articulation, you found him gaining a strong hold
not only upon your attention, but upon your feelings ; and
you discovered that underneath the ample and rather loose
folds of adipose tissue with which his outer man is in-
vested, there are great stores of electrical power. He pos-
sesses that attribute indispensable to the orator, for which
we have no better name than magnetic. You are rooted
as by a spell, and surrender for a time the guidance of your
own thoughts. You have dropped the helm of your mind,
for a more skillful pilot has for the nonce taken your place
at the tiller.

Occasionally, you find the speaker's power over you
gomg to such lengths as to control your respiration, and
you breathe as he breathes, or as he gives you liberty. Who-
ever has known the delicious pain of a long, deep inhalation
— half a sigh of relief, half a welcome of the outer world
for the time forgotten — while listening to a speaker with
such rapt earnestness that every faculty of mind and sense
is concentrated in the one act of hearing, has felt what ora-
tory is. He has felt it, but can he describe it ? He might

jJJ INTKODUCTION.

ag weU attempt to describe the thrUl of love or rapture. 1
doubt not, Mr. Punshon has showed many people what ora-
tory is, and made them to know the power of the orator ;
but I question much if he can teach them the power of h.s
art, or how to analyze and define it. It is not the power of
intellect, for I have seen and heard nothing from hmx
extraordinary as an intellectual production. It does not he
in his taste-I am not sure it that would bear the test of
rigid criticism. It is not in the exhibition of stores of learn-
ing; his life has been too busy and practical, to enable
him to gain great stock of lore. It is not in the tncks of
a charlatan or the skill of an actor, for Mr. Punshon is
a sincere, devout and godly man. The charm of eloquence
retreats from the scrutiny of analysis as life retires from
the knife of the anatomist.

Before he has reached his major "thirdly," it is aU over
with your independent consciousness; you have yielded at
discretion and are the prisoner of his feeling. I am half m-
clined to believe that his own intellect is in the same plight,
and that memory acts as the warder of the brain, under
MTit from the lordly soul. You have thrown criticism to
tlie do-s; your ear has exchanged itself for an eye; the
bone and flesh of your forehead become delicately thin, as
the lamina of the cornea, and your brain seems endowed
with the power of the iris. You enjoy the ecstasy of vision
and as the speaker stops you recover yourself enough
to feel that you have had an apocalyptic hour.

It seems to n.e, that the true measure of eloquence is
found, not so much in what is said as in what is sug-
gested; not so much in the speaker's abUity to convey to
you an idea, as to suffuse you with tb. glow of a senti-

lui'iit ; not s
puiil behind
IX sharer.

3[i-. riiiisl
lii.';ird in Ei
aial ; his exi
liim from tl
of self-conc(
man's head
ollei'od to 31
contents h-.v
an idea, th:
Apostle's a
more higlily
think sober
every man

Mr. Puns'
to study cl(
quently not
He prepare
most scnipt
greater pan
memory, an
beforehand
once quick
higher avei
many morti
from the gi

"Mr. Pi
authority) <

INTKODUCTION.

xiii

e or rapture. 1
people what ora-
r of the orator ;
the power of his
lot the power of
thing from him
It does not lie
bear the test of
)f stores of learn-
ctical, to enable
; in the tricks of

Mr. Punshon is
irm of eloquence

life retires from

lly," it is all over
I have yielded at
ng. I am half in-
1 the same plight,

the brain, under
lown criticism to
' for an eye ; the
delicately thin, as
a seems endowed
3 ecstasy of vision,

yourself enough
3 our.

re of eloquence is
IS in what is sug-
bility to convey to
<» glow of a senti-

mi'iit ; not so much in the truth which is uttered, as in the
poiil beliind tlie tnilli, of wliicli you Income, for the time,
II sharer.

3[i-. I'uiishon is nuich more of an orator than any man I
lieard hi England. In society he is simple, quiet, and ge-
nial ; his excellent good sense, and unallected piety deliver
him from the snares of egotism, and the foolish weakness
of self-conceit. The elialiec of praise turns many a great
man's head. The goblet which the English imblic has
oU'ered to Mr. runshon is huge and brimming; but if the
contents have affected him, I did not discover it. I have
an idea, that he gives close and scrupulous heed to the
Apostle's admonition : " Let no man among you think
more highly of himself than he ought to think, but let him
think soberly, righteously, according as God has dealt to
every man the measure of faith."

Mr. Punshon is not .as robust as he looks. He is not able
to study closely more than three hours at a time, and fre-
quently not more than that out of the twenty-four hours.
He prepares himself for the rostrum and pulpit with the
most scrupulous and exhaustive care. I should say that the
greater part of his sermons and lectures arc committed to
memory, and delivered almost word for word, as they were
beforehand composed. Ills recollection is, therefore, at
once quick and tenacious. This plan, while it insures a
higher average of public performance and saves him from
many mortifymg failures, at the same time shuts him out
from the ground of highest power.

" Mr. Punshon was born (I now quote from i-eliablo
authority) on the 29th of May, 1824, and snocossfully passed

jjjy INTRODUCTION.

bis examination for the Wc.leyan ministry iu the year 1845.
lie U a native of Doncaster, an.l is related, on the mo her 8
Bide, to the Morlcys of that town, and since of Hull, Sir
Isaac Morley being his uncle. The only child ot his parents,
ho early displayed that wonderful memory for which he is
now so remarkably distinguished, and a propensity to storo
it with facts which rarely interest mere boys. At the JJon-
castcr Gramhiar School, where he was educated, he is said
not to have discovered any surprising proficiency ; but
when still a child he was able to name nearly all the xnem-
bers of the House of Commons, with the places for which
thev sat, and the color of their politics.

"In early life he associated himself with the W esleyan
Methodists, to which religious body his fomily belonged ;
but public affairs continued to be his ruling passion, and
the most surprishig thing is, that his oratory, mstead ot
adornin<^ the Methodist chapel, should not have been electri-
fvin- tire chapel of St. Stephen. When his grandtather and
uncfes removed to their establishment in Hull, he was placed
in their counting-house as junior clerk. He may have had
talents for business, but his inclination ran in another direc-
tion During the three years that he was supposed to be
makin- out iiivoices and footing up ledgers, he was absorbed
in newspapers ; and the only account he cared to keep was
of the way in which the representatives of the people voted
in Tarliamcnt.

"In the debates nobody was better posted up. ihe
temptation of a daily newspaper was irresistible; and while
the other clerks were deep in figures, he was culling figures
of si)ecch from the orators of the Reformed Parliament—
witchin-1- the opening g(mius of Gladstone and Macaulay,
. notiiH"- the inaturer excellences of Peel and Palmerston, and
markfng the linest flights of Shiel and O'Counell for his
own. The predilections of a young politician are seldom
of much importance ; but it so happened that young Pun-
ehon'a devotion to newspaper studies threw him into the

Bociety of th
the then ne\
Poel and his
strengthen e:
one of thorn
and thougli i
of the thimbl
Menticultura
being a Wes
the Establisl
monthly lecti
possessed of
Nor did ho a
for there is
they publish(
tributod a p
promise. A
ministry of tl
which result!
a Sunday-sell
He began to
exhibited mr
made at Ellc
cause the sei
who heard i
when Mr. Pi
stances there
in the counti
mercial circh
an uncle at
he had enter
" But the 1
nor day-booli
liim an arder
rature, and i
employ his ti

INTRODUCTION.

1 the ycaf 1845.
)n the mother's
ce of Uull, Sir
i of his parents,
for whieh he is
pensity to store
3. At the Don-
sated, he is said
)roficicncy ; but
rly all the mem-
places for Avhich

h the Wesleyan
amiiy belonged ;
ing passion, and
itory, instead of
lave been electri-
I grandfather and
uU, he was placed
le may have had
in another diree-
s supposed to be
, he was absorbed
jared to keep was
the people voted

posted up. The
istible ; and while
eas culling figures
ued Parliament — •
le and Macaulay,
\ Palmerston, and
O'Counell for his
itician are seldom
[ that young Pun-
ircw him into the

Boclety of three young men who were earnest disciples of
the then newly born conservative opinions of Sir liobort
Pool and his adherents, and wlio licld weekly meetings to
strengthen each other in llicir political fiiith. Once a month
one of them read a I'aper to tlic rest on a given siibjoct ;
and though not more numerous than the colebrntcd kniglits
of the thimble in Tooley street, tliey called themselves *' Tlic
Menticultural Society." Two of the three survive, one
being a Wesleyan minister, and the other a clergyman of
the Established Church. In these weekly discourses and
monthly lectures, Mr. Punshon first distinguished himself as
possessed of those faculties which have made him eminent.
Nor did ho and his associates confine themselves to politics ;
for there is in existence a small volume of poetry, Mhich
they published conjointly, and to whicii Mr. Punshon con-
tributed a piece entitled " The Orphan," of considerable
promise. About the same time lie received, under the
ministry of the Rev. Samuel Romilly Hall, those impressions,
which resulted in his religious conversion. He tlien became
a Sunday-school teacher, and subsequently a local preacher.
He began to preach when ho was eighteen years of age, and
exhibited much ability in the pulpit. His first attempt was
made at EUerby, near Hull, and it was so successful as to
cause the sermon to live in tho memory of at least some
who heard it, for they talked about it years afterward,
when Mr. Punshon visited the place. Under such circum-
stances there could be little doubt that his vocation was not
in the counting-house. But still he was kept in the com-
mercial circle, for from his relatives in Hull he was sent to
an uncle at Sunderland, to follow up the pursuit on which
lie had entered.

" But the books in wliich he dolightod were neither lodger
nor day-books. His refined fancy and polished taste made
liira an ardent admirer of the sublime and beautiful in lite-
rature, and at the same time his religious views led him to
employ his talents more than ever in the preaching of tho

. INTRODUCTION.

XVI

Gospel • and as certain rivers uro lost in niorasses we lose
^gbt of Ws commercial career sou.ewhere among the coal-
nits and iron-works of the North.

^ 'd uin- these events he had been bereaved of both pa-
rents • and his grandfather, at length convinced that seculai
' 1 «L not ]m vocation, made liberal arrangements
::rU;S ^ LlTlb;.. ministry in the Wesleyan Insti-
mio aftei- a preliminary conrse of instruction at the house
o 1^'un cle, the llev. Benjamin Clough, at ^^V^^?\.
" There, however, he did not long remam ; it bemg found,
prolib y ither that his genius was iU-suited to the re.
Hnts of an academical course, or that by self-culture, and
"help of his ministerial relative, he had attamed a profi-
dencj which, with talents such as his, superseded a more
f^-n. 1 training. In the spring of 1845 a secession of the
piishioners from the Episcopal Church at Morden, Kent,
formed the nucleus of aWesleyan church in tha town, and
Mr. I'unshon was invited to accept the pastoral charge of
the secodovs. He complied with the request, and under his
•mistry their numbers so gre.tly increased that a commo-
dious chapel was erected, and always well hUed It was
only for a short time, however, that he remained in this
phce for in the autumn of the san.c year the Conference,
under whose jurisdiction the iMorden church seems to have
come, «ent him to Whitehaven, where he resided two years,
and attracted large congreg.ations. From thence, in 1847,
he was removed to the city of Carlisle, and two years aftei-
w.rd to Newcastle-ou-Tyne. In both of these great centres
of poinilation INIr. Tunshon at once acquired a worthy name,
and became a mighty power for good, as well as at Sunder-
Pnul Gateshead, Shields, and the other towns of the dis-
trict where he never luul to preach or lecture to empty, or
onlv'partially occupied pews and benches. AVhilc stationed
at kewcastle, being then in his twenty-fifth year, he mar-
ricd a daughter of Mr. Vicars, of Gateshead, a very csti-
inable and highly accomplished lady, whose premature death

iu 1858 threw

path, just whe

circuit, Avherc

the gifted an(

unwelcome, th

of tlie pastor's

"From Nev

Sheflicld, and 1

at Sheflicld th

abroad ; .and h

for special ser

lieve, in the cl

first time in Li

recollect the ci

of Exeter Ilal

Men's Christif

was not, slrici

treme brillian

minds and liu'

ence ; and we

applause as th

greeted each

was delivered

and such was

had followed •

or at home,

print, it wouh

memory of tl

tence that th

performance I

tation outsid(

some two or 1

Exeter Hall, 1

Dreamer, Jol

most maeterlj

sands in almo

INTllODUcnoN.

XVU

)vas8es, we lose
imong tlio coal-

yctl of both pa-
cod that secular
il arrangements
Wcsleyan Insti
iou at the house
Doptlbrd.
; it bemg found,
itcd to the res
self-culture, and
attahicd a profi
pcrsedcd a more
secession of the
t Mordcn, Kent,
in that town, and
[istoral cliarge of
E>st,and imdcrhis
;d that a coinmo-
;ll filled. It Avas
remained in this
ir the Conference,
rch seems to have
resided two years,
m thence, in 1847,
id two years after-
ihese great centres
ed a worthy name,
well as at Sunder-
towns of the dis-
cture to empty, or
!. AVhile stationed
fifth year, he mar-
ihead, a very csti-
ise premature death

in 1858 threw tlie darkest shadow across Mr. Punshon'a
path, just when he liad been appointed to a Metropolitan
circuit, Avhcrc enlarged usefulness and new honors awaited
the gifted and ardent aniljassador of Christ ; when most
unwelcome, the King of Terrors came and took the angel
of the pastor's home away to her sister spirits in glory.

"From Newcastle 3Ir. Punshon was removed in l^ol to
Sheffield, and thence to Leeds in 1855, It was while he wa<
at Sheflield that the fame of the ])reacher became noised
.abroad ; and his services were soon in very frequent request
for special sermons, and also for lectures. It was, avc be-
lieve, in the character of a lecturer that he appeared for the
first time in London, some six or seven years ago. We well
recollect the circumstance of his standing upon the platform
of Exeter Ilall to discourse to the members of the Yoiuig
Men's Christian Association on the Prophet of Iloreb. It
was not, strictly speaking, a lecture ; but ;m oration of ex-
treme brilliancy, suited in a high degree to captivate the
minds and find its way to tiiu allections of a youthful audi-
ence ; and we never remember to have heard such rapturous
applause as that with which the thousands there assembled
greeted each glowing period. The whole of the oration
was delivered memoritei\ and with extraordinary fluency ;
and such was the literal fidelity with which the speaker
had followed the manuscript, which was either in his pocket,
or at home, that when it shortly afterward appeared in
print, it would have been difficult for the most retentive
memory of the closest listener to have pointed out a sen-
tence that the lecturer had not uttered. By this single
performance Mr. Punshon established a Metropolitan repu-
tation outside his own denomination, which was increased
some two or three years afterward by his second lecture in
Exeter Ilall, before the same Association, on the Immortal
Dreamer, John Bunyan.; and, more recently still, by that
most masterly oration on the Huguenot, which tens of thou-
sands in almost .all parts of England have listened to with

xvm

INTRoDLCTION.

'i'

ir, ■! -

uuLounaecl ileliglit. With one or two exceptions, rerhaps,
tlicrois no living minister in this country possessed ot so
n.uch popular power as Mr. P.ni.hon. It is something
wonaorl-ul and grand to ^vitne.s the spell of his genius upon
miscellaneous audiences of from three to five thousand pco-
Vlo i„ St. James' Hall, Exeter Hall, or the provincial
theatre, Avho have paid from a shilling to a half crown each
for admission. Most people will probably preler Mv. 1 un-
shon in character of a lecturer rather than that oi a preacher.
In the pulpit he is unquestionably a master, and only second
to -x very few preachers of the age ; but the platform lur-
nisiies a better sphere for the display of his varied abiht.es.
In neither capacity does ho give the people that wdnch has
cost him nothing; for so accurate, and elaborate is alm<.6t
every sentence, and so appropriate and polishe.l every illus-
trative simile, that it may be eoniidently said he writes out
and commits to memorv every sermon and lecture that ho
delivers. Whatever 1m undertakes he does well. AV hether
it is in the preaching of an ordinary sermon m a ISFcthodist
Chanel, or in the delivery of an ostensibly popular discourse;
in some great public building, or as taking part in the meet-
inrr of some benevolent or religious association, or as alecv
tuT-er ocnupying the rostrum before thousands ot delighted
hcare'rs, he is always earnest, always rne.getic, always

effective. .1 . f

" In a two hours' discourse upon such a theme as that ot
the history of France throughout the whole period of the
Huguenot persecutions, ordinary and even very superior Ice-
turcrs would have considered a manuscript indispensable.
But not so Mr. runshon. A few notes on some small cards
held in the hand were all the prompting lie required, when
we heard him go through his magnilicent address. He told
that old story of persecution with an inspiring eloquence
that made men hold their breath while they listened, or
burst forth into a tempest of applause. Vigorous, inven
tive and impassioned, he adapted himself to the versatile

tastes of Ids ai
niinplicity, am
thoughts that
touched cveij
the liearts of 1

With God's
the English sta
May he have
he shall contii
the hearty wisl

Brookltn, Maj,

INTKODUUTION.

XIX

ptions, perhaps,
possessed of so
t is Boniething
his genius upon
e thousand pco-
tho i)rovinci:vl
half crown each
prefer JNIr. I'lin-
lat of a preacher,
and only second
he platform fnr-
s varied abilities.
le that which has
aborato is almost
ishcd every ilhis-
lid he writes out
d lecture that lie
s well. Whether
)n in a ]\[cthodist
popular discourse
part in tlie meet-
iation, or as a leo-
;ands of delighted
riK'igetic, always

V theme as that of
liolo period of the

I very superior lec-
ript indispensable.

II some small cards
lie required, when
, address. He told
uspiring elo(pience
e they listened, or

Vigorous, inven-
elf to the versatile

tastes of Lis auditory, not by any apparent effort, but by
wmplicity, and strength, by speaking right out the
thoughts that Avere in him. lie roused every passion,
touched every emotion, ami awakened every sympathy in
the hearts of his hearers."

With God's blessing ^Ir. Punshon has yet, according to
the English standard, full thirty of his best years before him.
!May he have length of days and fullness of power, so that
he shall continue to grow in Hivor M'ith God and man, is
the hearty wish of his friend,

W. II. MlLBURN.
Brookltn, J/(i.'/ 15</j, 18(50.

P R E L I

TA13011

If any of yc

witness the ecc

Tabor — if you

King of Glor;5

into the cloud

that heavenly

Poter was, by

fuklinys of gi't

cease which hi

of you could 1

gladness, "Lo

could have r(

Baered spot, tl

rest ?

Dear friend
servance the
and with his
" assembling
church comn

PRELTMINAPvY PLEA.

TABOll; OH, THE CLASS-MEETIXCI.

If any of yon, dear fricndd, liatl boon pi-ivilegcJ to
witness the eccnes which once hallowed the buniniit of
Tabor— if you had seen the Saviour baptized as the
King of Glory— if you had "feared as you entered
into the cloud "—if you had been a favored listener to
tliat heavenly converse— if you had been thrilled, as
Peter was, by the upliftings of wondrous lu^po and un-
fuldings of gracious purpose, as " they spake of his de-
cease which he should accomplish at Jerusalem" — who
of you could have withheld the deep-felt expression of
gladness, " Lord, it is good to bo here !"— who of you
could have restrained the desire to build, upon th£*»
Bacred spot, the " tabernacles" of remembrance and ot

rest ?

Dear friends, there is yet an institution in whose ob-
servance the humblest Ch^-istian talks with his Master,
and with his Master's followers— that institution is the
" assembling of ourselves together" for the purposes of
church communion— there is yet a place upon earth

tabor; or, THK CLASa-MIKTING.

where somo relics of thut oxccllent glory linger, where
the experiences of that niouiit of Mossing aro not nlll
forgotten — that place is ft i)iou8 and properly eondiictcdl
Clai-8-Meeting. Many a time has the writer of tliis
hriof u'Ulresa felt its salutary influence, to gladden the
Boul in seusons of intenwcst trial, to encourage the fail-
ing sjiii-it in heavenward progress, to brace and nerve
the mind for dillicult duty ; and, witli a grateful recol-
lection of these, its Tabor-])lea8ure9, he commends its
advantages to you. "I belinvcd, therefore have I
spoken."

We do not claim for the Class-Meeting an essentially
divine origin, although it would be difficult to doubt
that an overruling Providence jiresided at its birth,
and has kept it in operation until now. The mind,
which devoutly remembers that with God there is
nothing trivial, will readily acknowledge that when
John Wesley, ministering merely to present necessities,
and with no foresight of the future, called together at
their own request " eight or ten persons in London" —
there were in heaven an eye that marked and a love
that blessed the deed.

" A thing is great or little only to A mortars thinking,
It is but the littleness of man that seetb no greatness in a trifle."

Mark the tenor of the language which tells of the rise
of the " United Societies," which, founded upon scrip-
tural principles, have now expanded into a flourishing
church :

TABOI

*' In the latter i

Iftous camo to mo :

Iconvinced of hIu,

loy desired (as

Itlmt I Avould spei

ludvise them how

Itlioy saw contini

wo might have

pointed a day •

which from hen

oil nuirsday, in

niore as desired

iucrcascd daily)

lime which I ju

also concluded o

several necessitit

How forcibly
Malachi, when '
one to another,
and a Book of ;

was written be
and that though
't recall that u
princely power I
!i5 touching an]
done for them
How does it bri
tiirough the v

IG.

tabor; or, the class-mektino.

T linger, where
\\rr arc not nlll
cM'ly condiictod
writer of this
to gladden tlic
)urage the fail-
•aco and nerve |
grateful rccol-
commends its I
ireforo have I

w an essentially
Bcult to donbt
;d at its birth,
w. The mind,
God there is
Ign that when
sent necessities,
led together at
3 in London" —
ked and a love

- r, '• r.-

iug,

:ncss in a trifle."

tells of the rise
led upon scrip-
to a flourishing

*' In the latter end of the year 173{), eight or ten per-
foiifi camo to luo in London, who appeared to l»o deeply

)iivinccd of (tin, and earnestly groaning for redemption.
jTlioy deHircd (as did two or three more the next day)
ilmt I would ppend some time with them in prayer, and
advise them how to flee from the wrath to come, which
tliey baw continually hanging over their heads. That
we might have more time for this great work, I ap-
pointed a day when they might all come together;
which from henceforward they did every week, viz.,
oil lliursday, in the evening. To these, and as many
more as desired to join with them (for their numijci
increased daily), I gave those advices from time to
lime which I judged most needful for them ; and we
also concluded our meetings with prayer suited to their
several necessities."

How forcibly does this remind us of the days of
3ilalachi, when " they that feared the Lord spake often
one to another, and the Lord hearkened and heard —
and a Book of remembrance" — the Lord's class hook —
" was written before him for them that feared the Lord,
and that thought upon his name !" How vividly docs
't recall that union in prayer which gives it such a
princely power I " If two of you shall agree on earth
as touching anything that they shall ask, it shall bo
ilonc for them of my Father which is in heaven."
How does it bring before ub the exhortations scattered
through the whole compass of apostolic writing I

TABOK ; OR, THE CLASS-MEKTINO.

"Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law
of Christ;" — and especially how accordant ia jt witli
the confession of our faults one to another (not auricu-
lar confession to a priest — that we abhor), which St.
James enjoins. (Jas. v. IG.) If we have not direct
Scripture command, we have Scripture permission, ap-
proval, and usage ; and, while we are content that a
Class-Meeting should be considered as prudential rather
than authoritative, we hold to the persuasion tliat it has
been a means of grace, which, perhaps beyond all
others of a supplemental character, has been signally
honored by the blessing of God.

You, as hearers of our ministry, are doubtless aware
that membership in one of these Class-Meetings is in-
dispensable to constitute union with Methodism, and
that those only, who statedly attend these seasons of
Christian fellowship, are " accredited and rightful com-
municants of our Church." Writing as Methodists,
we condemn not other sections of the church universal.
It may not be their vocation. Tliey certainly do not
prize it as their privilege. For ourselves, however, for
the benefit of our own family, we are free to confess
an ardent attachment in this matter to the " good ways"
of our fathers. The Class-Meeting is storied of old.
It is associated with our traditional and sacred records
of the master spirits of early Methodism — those large-
hearted men "of whom the world was not worthy.'"
It was to them as the blest Elim of palms and fount-
ains to the desert wayfarer; and such is the sanctity

of af
the I
voice
ever
an 01
bersh
Chris
Lei
we a:
nocesi
state I
There
us of
fectiv
when
churc
•\vhcr(
cogni
churc
fidoli
pract
ship,
tei-s,
quire
is cej
nitesl
there
repei
the 1

•METOTINO.

and 60 fulfill the law
accordant is it with
) another (not auricu-
we abhor), which St.
' vve have not direct
ipturo permission, ap-
ve are content that a
;d as prudential rather
! persuasion tliat it has
perhaps beyond all
ter, has been signally

i-y, are doubtless aware
e Class-Meetings is in-
■witli Methodism, and
.ttend these seasons of
iited and rightful com-
A^riting as Methodists,
)f the church universal.
Tliey certainly do not 1
ourselves, however, for j
we are free to confess
itter to the " good ways" |
eting is storied of old. i
ional and sacred records |
Methodism— those large-
vorld was not worthy.'']
lim of palms and fount-
\nd such is the sanctity I

TABOR ; OU, THE CLASS-MEETING,

9^^

of affection with which wo regard it, that it compels
the prayer, not Avitli bated breath, but with the loud
voice of earnest entreaty ;— God forbid the day should
ever dawn when the Class-Meeting shall cease to be as
an organized system of testiiuoiiy, the badge of mem-
bership in tho Metliodist branch of the Church of
Christ.

Let us be guarded here. We do not believe, nor do
we afiirm, that connection with tho Class-Meeting is
necessarily an indication of ' piety, nor of that right
state of heart which is acceptable in the sight of God.
There may be— there probably are— numbers amongst
us of whom we are " in doubt," and over whose de-
fective consistency wo mourn. It is not surprising,
when there were "carnal walkers'' in the Corinthian
church, and e\eu a Judas amongst the twelve. 13ut
■^vhcre is there an ecpial vigilance to prevent tho re-
cognition of improper persons as members? In what
church in Christendom are there manifested greater
fidelity and solemnity in matters of experience and
practice* The charge of encouraging mixed fellow-
ship, which has been so injuriously cast upon our minis-
tei-s, is unwarranted and untrue. That our only re-
quirement is " a desire to flee from the wrath to come,"
is certain. But Avhat does this mean ? How is it ma-
nifested? It is not the careless confession, in -which
there is no heart— nor the emotion of the man, who
repents to-night and sins again to-morrow— nor yet
the mere feeling of remorse, the Judas-like penitence,

26 TABOR ; OR, TUE CLASS-JIEETINO.

Avhich " worketh death." There must be « repentance
toward God"— the deep and abiding penitence— the
strong convicticni of personal gnilt and danger— the
" broken heart," which is God's chosen sacritice— the
godly sorrow, which chastens the entire character—
the whole of the emotions comprehended in the ex-
pressive \ym\\— contrition. None, in the judgment of
our church— as embodied in her inimitable Eules—
sincerely feci this desire but they who bring forth its
"fruits meet for repentance"— the crushing sense of
ingratitude— the careful avoidance of evil— the earnest
inquiry after good— the submissive search for truth—
and the restless anxiety which refuses to be satisfied
without the experience of its power. None but these,
therefore, are interested in this address. Do not mis-
take us. We invite you on the assumption— and that
assumption is indispensable— and that assumption is
all that is indispensable— that you are thus desirous to
"flee from the wrath to come." We are jealous of
accessions that may pollute its purity. The careless,
and the profime, and the trifling, and the selfish—
alas! that we have such hearers I— our invitation
passes by. Dearly as we wish their welfare, we dare
not invite them, in their present state, amongst us.
"They have no part nor lot in the matter." But we
believe there are thousands of our hearers in difiercnt
parts of the land, whose hearts God hath touched—
who are hopeful and promising as to religious
impression, and who manifest a ceaseless concern

for tlieir soul
appeal.

Dear fricndi

to this mcrabe

for you with e

you with a j

state we have

your spiritual

vent prayer.

but wo would

our family fc

threshold — we

stone and to b

not adeqiiatcl

valuable fello

for awhile to i

I. The CI

Tlioughtlessne

the world. T

spectacle of a

itself, alone,

have parleyed

the manner ol

servant of his

up for many

merry ;" or, 1

the fixed intc

bers, but his i

a gloomy an

TABOE ; OE, THE CLA.88-MEETING.

' repentance
litencc — the
danger — the
acrilice — the

character —
I in the ex-
judgment of
ible Eviles—
•ing forth its
ing sense of
—the earnest
li for truth—
3 he satisfied
me hut these,

Do not mie-
ion — and that
assumption is
lus desirous to
ire jealous of

The careless,

the selfish —
>ur invitation
jlfare, we dare
I, amongst us.
ter." But we
!rs in difi'eront
ath touched —
1 to religious
.seless concern

for tlieir souls; and it is to them we make our
appeal.

Dear friends, those of you that arc in such a case,
to this merabersliip we invite you. We have watched
for yon with eager solicitude. We have yearned over
you with a pastor's yearning. Ui)on your Bj)iritual
state we have expended many an anxious thought, for
your spiritual Avelfare wo have breathed many a fer-
vent prayer. Wc rejoice to see you in the sanctuar}',
but wo would have you glad us with your presence at
our family festivals. We see you standing at the
threshold — we wish you to cluster round the hearth-
stone and to be warmed at the fire. Perhaps you have
not adequately considered the advantages of this in-
valuable fellowship. Will you lend us your attention
for awhile to a brief enumeration ?

I. The Class-Meeting induces Self-examination. —
Tlioughtlessness is the great sin and inveterate habit of
the world. The natural man presents the " remarkable
spectacle of a soul afraid of itself, afraid to stay with
itself, alone, still and attentive." He may, perhaps,
have parleyed sometimes with his immortal spirit, after
the manner of some lordly nobleman speaking to an old
servant of his house : " Soul, thou hast much goods laid
up for many yeare, take thine ease, eat, dritik, and be
merry ;" or, haply some adventurous one set out with
the fixed intention of visiting his heart's secret cham-
bers, but his feelings were like those of one who entered
a gloomy and long-deserted mansion. To his disor-

28 tabok; oij, the class-meeting.

dcrcd imagination strange treuaors shook the arraB,
unearthly echoes sounded from the etair, apparitions
met the straining eye-ball upon every hiudmg-

" J'oi- ovci' all tliore luing a cloud of fear,
A scii?o of mystery tlie spirit diiuutcd,
And said, as plain as whisper in the ear,
Tlic place is haunted !"

and he retired aiirighted, ^^•itll the big, eold drops upon
his bro^v', and it must be a powerfiU motive that AVill
tempt him into those chambers again. Nay, the Lord s
accusation against his ancient people is chargeable to a
great extent upon his people now, -My jpeople do not
consider." How apt is the Christian, the heir of a
nobler life, the professor of a living faith, to neglect
the examination of himself! The countless activities
of this utilitarian age have been all temptations, to
^■hich his busy spirit has been but too prone to yield.
Tlie engrossing influence of business, the onward march
of inteHect, the absorbing strife of politics, even the
enterprises of religious philanthropy, have all, in turn,
contributed most sadly to hinder the practice of self-
communion. Tlie active has banished the reflective •,
and it is to be feared that there are professors of reli-
gion, who strangely rcchon all the moments spent upon
themselves as so much toasted time.

Wordsworth has entered his indignant protest against
the intrusion of a railway to disturb the serenities of
Grasmere and Kydal. Oh, for some spiritual laureate

TAI

— some sweet

plied cxcitemt'i

oflended mind

'• lead you bcsii

and devotional

of self inquiry-

ther he be in tl

when the strif

race of human

thoughts were

they were bew

Class-Meeting

sanctuary, and

is like the com

science takes c

them respecti^

searching that

niou ! " Alio

"What record li

tered from its

rienced ? W.

been my om:

holier, more

scorn of the ■«

The heart mi

made searchii

perhaps, heav

descending vii

who knows ?

TAmUt ; OU, TllK CLASS-MKIiTINO.

k the arras,
, apparitions

mg—

lid drops upon
)tivo that Avill
'ay, the Lord's
liargcablc to a
' peoj)le do not
the heir of a
ith, to neglect
itlcss activities
temptations, to
prone to yield.
! on-ward march
litics, even the
xvc all, in turn,
practice of self-
thc rellective;
■ofessors of reli-
ents spent upon

it protest against
;he serenities of
piritual laureate

— some sweet singer in Israel, to decry tlio multi-
plied excitements which tramp and rattle through the
ollended mind! ^fv i'rionds, the Clasa-Meeting will
'•lead you beside these still waters." Xo right-minded
and devotional spirit </<(rcs enter it without some kind
of self inquiry — some examination uf himself — " whe-
ther he be in the faith." During the week, it may be,
when the strife of competition waxed fierce, and the
race of human pursuits was going vigorously on, your
thoughts were hurried into the midst of them, until
they were bewildered even to exhaustion ; but now the
Class-Meeting is at hand, and the mind retires into its
sanctuary, and communes with itself and its God. It
is like the court-day of the soul, when the steward con-
science takes cognizance of all the tenants, and brings
them respectively beneath their Master's eye. How
searclung that inquiry! How hallowed that commu-
nion! "Another week of my probation has fled.
"What record lias it borne? AVhat blessings has it scat-
tered from its wings ? What deliverances have I expe-
rienced ? What battles have I won? What have
been my omissions, heart-wanderings, sins? Am I
holier, more spiritually-minded? Have I a nobler
scorn of the world ? a more earnest avarice for heaven ?
The heart must be the better for inquiries like these,
made searchingly, and in the spirit of prayer. Then,
perhaps, heavenly thoughts will troop upon us, like the
descending visitants of Jacob's dream— and it may be—
who knows ? that we may ' entertain angels unawares ;'

TAIioic; OR, TIIK CL.VSS-MICE'nNO.

or, bettor still, some kind-loi>king stranger may join vs
on our Eininaus-travcl, and make ' oixr hearts burn
within us as he tulketh with us by the way.' " Thcs(!
are no trilling blessings, and tlicso the Class Meeting
indirectly procures, bccanse it, in some sort, compels
self-coniniunion, and thus induces a habit which may
be as powerful for good as former habits were powerful
for evil. '

II. The Class-IIeeting jnvduces Gratitude. — Love —
the lovo of gratitude — is tlie essence of religion — the
first feeling of the regenerate soul. It springs electric
in the mind of the believer at his first sight of Jesus.
Authoritj- catniol command it. Terror cannot frighten
it into existence. All the thoupand-fold appliances of
worhlly wisdom cannot create it. There must be per-
ception of love in Coil — a sense of his good-will — a
view of the crucilied as well as of the cross before it be
enkindled. "Wo love him hecause he first loved us."
This feeling of gratitude is too deeply grateful for
description. Language is but a mockery. Illustration
fails. It is beyond a figure, and without a parallel.
Who sees not the danger that an emotion like this, if
hidden in the breast, should spend itself by its own
continuity ? Gratitude is not like the mountain ava-
lanche, which gains intensity from repression — it is
rather like the fire, which imprisonment extinguishes — ■
or air, which, pure and free, is the refreshing breath of
heaven ; but, fouled by confinement, is the blast of
pestilence and death. Cojitemplation upon God's

bound!
I was
tongue
appro}:
largo (
euoui'l
be ditli
the fui
and br
withon
cnougl
corape
iiing—
path —
your 1
wando
when '
If we
the rel
might
shed a
argum
ingly :
merer
Under
eounte
most ti
tion of
I will ,

lunsa.

TABOB ; OB, 'run CI.ASS-MKKTINO.

ranger may join na
' our hearts burn
the way.' " These
the Class Meeting
Bt)nio sort, compels
. habit which may
ibits were poworfnl

rratUude. — Love —
BO of religion — the
It springs electric
irst sight of Jesus,
ror cannot frighten
-fold appliances df
'here nuiBt be por-
if his good-will — a
10 cross before it be
he first loved us."
ieeply grateful for
ckery. Illustration
without a parallel,
motion like this, if
1 itself by its own
the mountain ava-
il repression — it is
lent extinguishes — ■
■ef resiling breath of
nt, is the blast of
lation upon God's

boundless love tends naturally to expression. " While
I was musing the fire burned, then spake I with my
tongue." jSow, the Class-Meeting furnishes the most
appropriate occasion for tin's expression of praise. It is
largo enough to redeem from privacy, and not largo
enough to exclude tlie notion of a family, and it would
be difliciilt to find a more legitimate sphere, in which
the full heart may utter its thanks, unfold its hopes,
and breathe its prayers. Nay, can there be gratitude
without this thankful acknowledgment? Is there not
enough in the dealings of your heavenly Father to
compel it? The grace which loved you from the begin-
ning — the visitations of mercy which have lighted your
path — the beams of promise tliat have shone upon
your head — the kind licart that has borne Mith your
wanderings — the beckoning hand which restored you
when you went astray — are they not constraining you ?
If we were permitted to anticipate the objection which
the rebel heart sometimes whispers : " I cannot speak,"
might we not say — Ah ! friends, get the love of God
shed abroad within you, and it will fill your mouth with
arguments. Wondrous is the power of this suqiass-
ingly mighty theme. It makes the lips of the stam-
merer eloquent, and the heart of the diffident bold.
Under its inspiring influence, knowledge kindles on the
countenance — praise flows from the tongue — and the
most timid and retiring are transported into the invita-
tion of the Psalmist, " Come all ye that fear God, and
I will declare what he hath done for my soul."

TAUOIt ; OK, TlIK CLASS-MKETINO.

lU. The Class-Meeting recognises hrotlierhood. — It is
a mighty truth which God has written upon the uni-
verse, and stumped cnduringly upon the groat heart of
hunianitv, that " No man liveth to himself." The
world is a vast mass of dependencies. Tlie feeblest
woman or the humblest peasant exerts an influence
which must be felt in the great brotherhood of man-
kind. It is a precious appointment of Providence, that
it has, in some sense, made our very selfishness benevo-
lent — that it has bound us, at the peril of losing our own
ehjoyments, to care for the necessities of others — and
that it has extracted the most satisfying elements of
public happiness from the joys and perils of individual
lot. The heart, by a law of its constitution, must have
something to .vhicli it can attach itself. Its end^lenis
arc the summer-tendril and the clasping ivy. It was
never formed for the hermitage or the monastery — and
you must do violence to all its excellent charities,
before it will entirely denude itself of all objects of
solicitude and love. The Class-Meeting here comes in
to supply a great icant of nature. It concentrates the
feeling of brotherhood — prevents it from being frit-
tered away in vague and sentimental generalities — and
gives it a definite object and aim. If the church is the
temple, the Class-Meeting is an inner and sacred inclo-
sure. K the church is the populous city, the Class-
Meeting is the united family, where love is throned in
the heart and confidence nestles in the roof-tree; Every
faithful leader will impress upon his flock, and every

devoted i
church at
ollurt, to
closer an
there are
all the n
lionored,
joined oi
thren."
Are yon
perhaps,
pining fo
Father's 1
dered tlu
travellers
give the v
all brothel
your enen
^ IV. Tlu
and rich e
man ever ;
"communi
have hear
fo cherish
tliose who
ticisms of
Ihiwerets (
the damp
sensitive n

EETINO.

TABOR ; OR, TIIE CrASS-MliETIN-O.

hrotlkerhood. — It is
tten upon the uni-

tlio great heart of
to himself." Tlie
cies. Tlie feeblest
exerts an iiiflnence
[•otherhood of man-
of Providence, that
r selfishness henevo-
ril of losing our own
itics of others — and
isfying elements of
perils of individual
stitution, must have
itself. Its emblems
asping ivy. It was
the monastery — and
excellent charities,
If of all objects of
!ling here comes in

It concentrates the
it from being frit-
:al generalities — and
If the church is the
3r and sacred inclo-
ous city, the Class-
! love is throned in
he roof-tree; Every
his flock, and ever}'

devoted member will take care to feel, that, while the
cliurch at large claims hi.s i)hilantliropic sympathy and
effort, to his own fcllow-nu-iiibers ho is to cherish the
closer and deeper feeliii^.s of lioirio. Hern espociiillv
there are no orphans. " Wliethe-r one member suffer,
all the members suffer witii it ; or one member be
lionored, all the members rejoice with it." They are
joined as in a commonwealth. "They love as bre-
thren." Why join you not this heavenly communion ?
Are yon not, lik{; the prodigal, in a far country, and,
perhaps, if your pride would but confess it, inwardly
pining for the " bread enough and to spare " of your
Father's house at home ? Have you sufliciently consi-
dered that in your present stale, regarding you as
travellers to another world, you arc isolated, and— for-
give the word— «('//«/*— exhibiting a practical denial of
all brotherly relationship, by remaining to AVi-estlo with
your enemies, and gain your heaven alone ?

IV. The Class-Meeting elicits Si/mpathy.—QooA sense
and rich exprerience are the Truits of intercourse. N'o
man ever yet became either wise or holy by exclusively
"communing with his own heart upon his bed." We
have heard much lately on the tendency of seclusion
to cherish the spirit of piety, and there are not wanting
tliose who would revive in all their severity the monas-
ticisms of past ages. Mistaken men! The sweet
llowerets of Divine grace can rarely be acclimated to
the damp soil of the convent ; they are not like the
sensitive mimosa, which shrinks oven from the gentlest

TABOR ; OB, THE CLASS-MKKTINO.

handlinpr, but rather, like the delicate heart's-easo,
ji^ratet'iil l'(»r fijriicious (U'w-fallH, ami hrcat^iinp; zephyrs,
niid the blessed sun, ami yet cuurliiif; the culture and
the companionship of man. Christianity is not an ima-
ginative revelry upon great truths — it is an carnoi^t
endeavor to exemplify them. It is not contemplative
pietism, it is unceasing labor. It is not an alien princi-
ple, "vvhich has no sympathy with our nature, and is
content with its distant and constrained submission — it
is an all-pcrvasivo element, shrined in the heart, and
influencing benignly the whole of the character.
" Knox," says Dr. Chalmers, " did not destroy the old
Romish pulpits at the time of the Reformation ; ho did
better: he preached in them." Christianity does not
annihilate a single passion — does not extinguish a siugk;
affection of our nature. It does better. It employs tlu!
former for its own noble purposes, and it fixes the latter
where they may attach themselves, without fear of
idolatry, even upon " things above." Tlie passions ui
the Christian, therefore, arc as strong — the affections of
the Christian arc as warm — as those of any man'. The
charities of life, and of love, and of home, flourish as
endearingly in the mind of the Christian as anywhere,
and he has that intense yearning for sympathy which
characterizes universal man. Here again, the Class-
Meeting svpplks a great want of natitre. It is composed
a band of wayfarers, met for the express pui-pose of
eympathizing with each other in the struggles and perils
of their common journey. How often has it opened up

fong 18
joicing
of a tei
beseem
the ■\v
M'ords
One m
hk pu:
—and
assault
Bpiritu
a stran
in the
and si
prayer
Savioii
the str
afresh
Anc
ward

■MKKTINO.

delicate lieart's-easo,
<1 Itrcat^iin^; zopliyrs,
•{\n<f the culture aiul
itianity is not an ima-
hs — it is an carnoj^t
is not contemplative
is not an alien princi-
li our nature, and ],■;
•ained submission — it
cd in tlio lieart, and
of the character.
I not destroy the old
Ilcformation ; ho did
Christianity does not
lot extinguish a siuglu
jtter. It employs tlii!
and it fixes the latter
'cs, without fear of
e." Tlie passions oi
ng — the affections of
se of any mari. The
of home, flourish as
iristian as anywhere,
for sympathy which
ire again, the Class-
2tv7'e. It is composed
! express j^ui-pose of
e struggles and perils
ften has it opened up

TABOR ; OB, THE CI,\88-MliErlNG.

a weekly heaven, amid the dull and clouded atmosphero
of sinfulness and time ! One is sorely tempted. The
temptation presses hard upon liis spirit, with such
mighty fascinations is it clad — in such newer bhiKphi'iny
(kiL'S it prompt him to indulge, that ho thinks surely
this is a " temptation that is not common to men." liut
at the Class that week, a fellow-traveller relates the
hitter experience of the same suggestions, and the hkut
c.xpcrienco of deliverance from their power ; and a new
Bong is put into his mouth, and ho goes on his Avay re-
joicing. Another is bowed down beneath the influence
of a terr>ptatiou adjusted with such nicety to his peculiar
besc^mont as to be almost irresistible in its appeals, but
the weekly season of fellowship has come, and tho
words of the faithful leader " arc words in season," and
One mightier than the leader is there, and a glance at
h!o pure countenance — a touch of his invigorating hand
—and he is nerved for the conflict, and spurns tho
assaulter away. Another has been stricken with a
spiritual paralysis — a wearisome torpor has seized him,
a strange indifference has come upon his soul — and, as
in the Class-Meeting, he tells his tale of half-heartedness
and sin, amid the counsels of the faithful and the
prayers of the pious, the glorious presence of tho
Saviour bursts in light upon the chained one, and in all
the strength and nobility of spiritual life, he "walks"
afresh » with God."

And who can tell the beneficial influence to the Zion-
ward journey er, when persons of all ranks, character.

30 'rA.Bou; OK, Tin: ci.A68-Mr.K'riNa.

H,ul «KCS, nnite to tontily that " the «a.nc Lord over all
is rich it. inorcy unt.. ull then that c-all upon him?
Perhaps Ihrro irt an a-cd pilgrim who tor years has
walked and tainted nut. Many a hill of dilUculty has
ho climbed, nuvny a valley of hnmiliation has ho trcnl.
dou-ho has tales to toll of wary walkings on enehttnted
{rround— of liair-breadth cneape out of tho net of tlie
Flatterer-aye, and of ravishing prospects for the
Delectable mountains and from tho elevations of
Pisgah; and, while his eye brightens mul his voice
falters, he tells also that ho has never repented his
setting forth on pilgrimage, and that the pleasures arc
Bweeter, and the toils less irksome, than when, in youth,
lie grasped the palmer-staif and strapped on the sandals.
Is it nothing to be favored with the testimony of such
an one, and to sit under his shadow witli delight ? to
have our rash judgments rebuked by his experience,
and our faith confirmed by the ardors of his imperish-
able hope ? There is a young convert there, it may be,
who has recently realized a wonderful change, oven,
« from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan
nnto God." He has found " peace and joy in believ-
ing ;" and the new-found gladness that is within him
streps the sky in brighter blue, and decks the eartli
with bonnier green ; and, blushing at his own fervor, lie
pours forth in the Class-Meeting his ascriptions of praise.
The old man hears, and is reminded of the days of his
first love— it is like a snatch of the music that used to
thrill the soul of yore, and, in a moment, memory has

])alnte(

ili)Ul)t

with w

eventfii

eyes as

not th

instruei

cliarmc

voting.

which i

is tho

desjiair

scionsm

hearts (

depress

niembc:

of faith

if then

anomah

than thi

of the I

thought

tremble

dewless

on whog

liis pent

supplica

upon tl

waters t

MECTINO.

Biinio Lord over all
int cull upon liim^'"
\ who for yciu-ft lias
, hill of ililUctilty h\>
liliivtiun hurt ho trod-
iilkiiigs on encluintcd
lit of tho net of the
y prospects for the

1 tho clevutions of
;hlcn8 und his voice
i never repented his
hut the pleasures are

than when, in youth,
•upped on tho sunduls.
:he testimony of such
ilow with delight ? to
.d by hirt experience,
•dors of his iniperibli-
ivert there, it may he,
iiderful change, even,
n the power of Satan
CO and joy in belicv-
!ss that is within him

and decks the cartli
; at lus own fervor, he
is ascriptions of praise,
led of the days of liis
he music that nsed to

moment, memory has

TAHOr; or, THK rtASS-MEEttNn.

l)ainted tho first conviction — the early Btrnj .,'!e8— tlio
(lonht that harassed liis young initid — tho triumph
witli whicli lu; hailed its departure — and, above all, the
eventful nioniont when joy broke through liis swimming
eyes as he believingly said, "My Father!" "Who sees
not tho mutual and glorious benelit — tho young
instructed by tho experience of the aged — tho aged
charmed and quickened by tlie enthusiasm of tho
young. And then there is one sympathy on this head
which it would be nnpardonablo in us to omit, and that
is tho 8ymj)athy of prayer. Who can bo lonely or
despairing, even in this wilderness world, with the con-
sciousness that there are hearts praying for him?
hearts of those who are animated by similar ho])C8, and
depressed by similar fears, and who are bound by their
membership to "make intercepsicm for " the household
of faith "according to the will of God?" My friends,
if there were no other disadvantage in your present
anomalous position as aloof from the church of Christ,
than this — that by your separation you deprive yourself '
of the church's j^'ayrfi — there is a fcarfulncss in the
tiiought which might well cause yon to reflect and
tremble. Desolate indeed is the spirit — cursed as tho
dcwless hills of Gilboa — for which no prayer ascends,
on whoso behalf no knee is bowed to heaven. Rich in
las penury is poverty's poorest child, if his portion is the
supplication of the faithful ! Happy the lonely watcher
upon the gallant vessel's deck, if over the waste of
waters the wife of his bosom prays ! Never is a heart

88 TABOR ; OB, THE CLASS-MEETING.

orphaned, or divorced utterly from hope ard heaven, if
in some extremest corner there rises one yearning
spirit's prayer. And if individual prayer can do so
much, what must be the effect of many ? My friends,
we would be almost content to rest the whole matter
here, this one advantage would so overwhelmingly con-
strain your decision. Bold indeed must you be in self-
confidence, in infatuation, in sin, if you refuse to avail
yourselves of the sympathy of prayer. Oh! by every
motlve which your souls will acknowledge as having
either sacredness or power, you are adjured, against the
evil day, to insure for yourselves the " effectual fervent

prayer."
V. The Class-Meeting covf esses Discijplesh'ijp.—^yGVY

believer is called to witness for God. You cannot have
forgotten how largely our Saviour impressed upon hio
immediate disciples the duty of "not being ashamed
of him," and of " confessing him in the sight of men.'
You will also recollect how the Apostle of the Gentiles
makes confession to ^)e on a parallel with faith in that
memorable passage, "If thou shalt confess with thy
mouth the Lord Jesus, and believe in thine heart that
God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.
For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness,
and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation,:'
Such confession cannot be adequately made either by
mere verbal acknowledgment or exemplary obedience, it
can only be made by a solemn dedication « to God's
people according to his will." Your solitary " witness"

3 CLASS-MEETING.

•ly from hope and heaven, if
■ there rises one yearning
^dividual prayer can do so
feet of many ? My friends,
nt to rest the whole matter
ould so overwhelmingly con-
L indeed mnst you he in seli-
in SIN, if you refuse to avail
,y of prayer. Oh ! by every
will acknowledge as having
, you are adjured, against the
rselves the " effectual fervent

yvfessrs I>iscij)lc8hij>.—Eyery
ss for God. You cannot have
• Saviour impressed upon hia
3uty of " not being ashamed
ing him in the sight of men."
iw the Apostle of the Gentiles
n a parallel with faith in that

thou shalt confess with thy
d believe in thine heart that
. the dead, thou shalt be saved.

believeth unto righteousness,
?ssion is made unto salvation.''^
)o adequately made either by
lent or exemplary obedience, it

solemn dedication " to God's
ill." Your solitary *' witness"

TABOK ; OR, TUK CLASS-MEETING.

of obedience, or of faith, is lost like an invisible atom in
the air, it is tlie union, of each particle, in itself innig-
niticant, that eonstitutes (lie "cloud" of witnesses
which the world can see. Ask yourselves, we pray
you, whether this is not just the clement that is lacking
in your religious decision. You are desirous to floe
from the wrath to come — ^you have yielded in sonio
measure to religious influence— you are endeavoring to
"square your useful lives below by reason and by
grace "—you liave even felt at times some emotions of
religious joy, and yet you are not permanently happy.
Why? Because you have been, pardon the word,
traitorous to the grace of God, in that, like Ilezekiah of
old, you have not '^rendered again according to the
benefit done unto you." Oli, remember how seriously
you peril, by your present conduct, the interests of your
souls ! You are like a venturous traveller, who plunges,
unaided and alone, into the tangled tliicket, whose every
tree may covert a robber. You are like a ship that has
voyaged from the fleet, and forsaken the convoy, and if
a storm should arise, where are the friendly hands to
launch the life-boat, or to rescue the perishing ? You
are like a soldier, who, confiding in his own prowess,
spurns the discipline of the regiment, and passes singly
through the armies of the aliens, and if he should be
surprised and stricken, where are the generous comrades
to cover his retreat, or beai' him from the field, or
" bind up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine ?" Nay,
friends, for we can hesitate no longer ; we must deliver

TABOU ; OR, TUE CLASS-MEETINO.

our Boul— God EEQUiRES tlus public dedication. Ho
must not only have the enlightened approval of the
licad, and the loyal allegiance of the heart, but the
cordial cmhmce of the hand / and wo daro not refrain
from the expression of an opinion, founded, wo believe,
upon the requirements of the law of God, that so long
as yo\i keep aloof from his people, and are not united
with some branch of his visible church, you are not

BAKE — YOU ARE IN DANGER.

AVe believe in the present state of the antagonist
armies of truth and cvtox— Neutrality is Oppodtim.
" lie that is not for us is against us," and the transition
is a very natural one to the belief that connection with
some vhihle Iranch of tfie Church of Christ is necessary
to salvation. AVe neither limit nor specify— God forbid
that we should trammel the conscience of any one — ^but
as right-hearted ^Methodists, Methodists from conviction
and preference, we should be guiltily wrong if wo dared
not recommend our own.

It is not our business, it is not our wish to make
proselytes. AVe would not descend from our elevation,
we would not leave our vantage-ground to do it. " AVe
have not so learned Chi-ist." AA'ith other churches we
have no quaiTcl. AVe regard them — all who hold the
head— as "houses of the Lord," and heartily do we
wish them God speed. " Let there be no strife between
our herdmcn and theirs." But we differ somewhat in
our notions of spiritual agriculture, and haply it is our
vocation to reclaim some waste lands that they would

your <

unwill

tency

hensio

dealinj

sauctu

name

« Shall

JEETINO.

TAnoR ; OK, TUK CLASS-MKKTINO.

ilic dedication. Ho
icd approval of the
' the heart, but the
wo dare not retrain
founded, wo believe,
of God, that so long
, and are not united
shurch, you are not

to of the antagonist
rality is Opposition.
3," and the transition
that connection with
of Christ is necessary
f specify — God forbid
ence of any one — ^but
adists from conviction
ily wrong if wo dared

)t our wish to make
.d from our elevation,
round to do it. " We
ith other churches we
m — all who hold the
and heartily do we
e be no strife between
re differ somewhat in
J, and haply it is our
ands that they would

not think worth the tillage. You will not blame us,
therefore, if while we do not disparage their oonimunion,
wc prefer our own. Broad principles of philanthropy,
however expansive, never root out the love of home,
lie is a churl, who cannot warm himself at any hearth
but his own ; and he is only half a man, who is not,
after all, loudest in praise of his own ingle nook, and of
the comfortable blaze that mantles from his own fire.
Upon you we have a claim. You are haunted by no
scruples as to the validity of our orders, or the purity
of our doctrines. By your attendance upon our minis-
try, you have accorded us your free and generous pre-
ference. "If we are not apostles unto others, yet
doubtless we arc apostles unto you." Be no longer
outer court worshippers. ]*>ind yourselves to us by a
tenderer tie. Come into our church. Approach the
inner shrines of our worship. Attach yourselves to ou.-
Class-Meetings, and you will find them to be as the
" upper room," renowned for tlie rushing wind and for
the cloven tongues of flame.

Now, dear friends, what is your decision ? Bring all
your objections, all the thousand excuses which the
unwilling heart coins ; the fear of man — the inconsis-
tency of professors — the dread of ridicule — the appre-
hension of falling — the repugnance to declare God's
dealings with you ; weigh them in the balance of the
sanctuary, and ask yourselves, 1 entreat you, iu the
name of God, and under the impression of his eye,
» Shall I deem these apologies sufficient in the article

TAUiiu; (lU, THK CI.ASS-MKKTIXa.

of death, jukI when the light of eternity shall flash iip.n
the doings of time ?"

Dear friends, our task is done. This address has been
written in many weaknesses, and in much prayer.
Kead it in a similar si)irit, and ask God in the socreey
of your eommunion-eloset, to teach you his will.
(;iiange is the great law of the present state of being.
The autograph of decay is graven upon temple, and
tower, and time. Our friends have faded and fallen iu
our sight—" who hath not lost a friend ?" Ourselves
are dying creatures. lie who writes, and you who
read, will speedily pass to the judgment. Already the
broad shadow of eternity looms upon us ; under that
shadow meditate and decide. Everything around you
seems ^o urge a recognition of tlie vast importance of the
claim. The wiles of the enemy— the deccitfulnes, never
yet fathomed, of the hunuiu heart— the perils of the yet
untravcUed future— the awfulness of wandering onward,
agonized and without a pi'aying fnend—iho blessings
of Christian connnunion — the helpfulness of rich and
mellow experience — the absolute requirement of God —
all, as with the voice of many waters, swell the force-
fulness of our last appeal, which we now fling forth
upon your souls, and may heaven clothe it with power:

" CoMK WITU CS, AND WK WILL DO YOU GOOD, FOB THE
Lord UATU SPOKK.N GOOD CONCEUNINO ISBABX." ' .i" " '^

•- !-;ya

"Andth
thee these
ilipc, to kr
I'oniinandiii

A PEC

words in
of the p
under tl
words a
among i
pie of h
licart a 6
liis forty
watched
guided tl
borders
wearied
voked bj

[KKTINa.

iiity shall flash upon

his address has hcoii
i in much pni^'cr.
: God in tlic secrecy
;ach you his will.
!rient state of being.
I npou temple, and
e liaded and follcn iu
friend ?" Ourselves
rites, and you who
»nicnt. Already the
ipon us; under that
irything around yoii
ast importance of the
le deceitfulnes, never
-the perils of the yet
)f wandering onward,
'nend—tliQ blessings
pfulness of rich and
equirement of God —
iters, swell the force-
. we now fling forth
clothe it with power :

) YOU GOOD, FOB TUB
a IsBABX." f »"

r PuisrsiioN's sermons.

MEMOEIES OF THE WAY.

"And thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God led
thee these forty years in the wilderness, to humble thee, and to prove
thee, to know what was in thine heart, whether thou wouldst keep hia
commandments, or no." — Dkct. viii. 2.

A PECULIAR Bolemnity would be attached to these
words in their original utterance, especially in the mind
of the person who uttered them, for they were spoken
under the shadow of approaching departure. Last
words are proverbially imi)re8sivc, and these were
among the last words of the veteran Moses to the peo-
ple of his charge and love. Tliere had grown in hia
lieart a strong afiection for the children of Israel during
his forty years' administration of their affairs. lie had
watched over them with fatherly tenderness, and had
guided them through the intricacies of the desert, to the
borders of the promised land. Often had he been
wearied by their munnurings, often had he been pro-
voked by their unbelief. He had been alternately the

4:i

vu^

MKMOmiOS Ol'" TlIK WA.V.

object of their mistrust and of llieir confidence, of tiieir
jealousy and of tlicir cntlmsiaem, and yet their very
M-aywardnesri only sccniod the more warndy to endear
them ; and, with a love stronger than death, he loved
them unto the end. Aware that, l»y his unadvised
speaking at the waters of Meribah, he had barred his
own entrance into Canaan, and animated with a passion
for the welfare of his people, intenser as the time of
their separation drew nearer, he gathered them upon the
plains of Moab, and in solemn and weighty words re-
traced the path they had trod, warned them against
their besetting dtingcrs, and exhorted them to fidelity in
Jehovah's service. In the midst of this advice, the
words of the text occur, Bunimoning them, so to speak,
to take a mental pilgrimage over all the track which
they had travelled, and to connect it with beneficial
uses which might influence tlieir future lives. Such a
review of the past is always Avise and salutary when it
is conducted in a becoming and prayerful spirit, .md to
such a review of the past, therefore, it is that we invite
you to-day. We may not unprofitably accompany the
children of Israel in their review of the way which they
had trod ; we may learn lessons in their company which
may effectually benefit ourselves. In order that we
may preserve some sort of system in our contempla-
tions, we will notice, in the first instance, the remem-
brance of the way; secondly, the pui-pose of God's
providence in the journey ; and, thirdly, tJie uses of
the memory.

IK WAV.

llieir confidence, of their
ism, and yet their very
more wi'.vmly to endear
;er than deuth, he loved
that, l>y his unadvised
ibah, he liad barred his
animated with a pasbion
intenser as the time of
3 gathered them npon tlic
a and weighty words re-
d, warned them iagainst
liorted them to fidelity in
lidst of this advice, the
oning them, so to speak,
ovi-r all the track which
mncct it with beneficial
elr future lives. Such a
ise and salutary when it
d prayerful spirit, <ind to
•efore, it is that we invite
profitably accompany the
!w of the way which they
s in their company which
Ives. In order that we
ystem in our contempla-
irst instance, the remem-
y, the pui-pose of God's
ind, thirdly, tJie uses of

MEM0EIK8 OF THE WAT.

I In the first place, the bemembrance of tiie way.
uThou Bhalt Tammhcr all the way which the Lord thy
God hath led thee those forty years in the wilderness
It is a wonderful faculty, this faculty of memory. lt«
acts seem to be of the nature of miracles wrought con-
tinually for the conviction of unbelief. We eannot
expound its philosophy, nor tell its dwelling-place nor
nauio the subtle chords which evoke it from its slum-
bers A snatch of music iu the street, the eight ot a
„,odest flower or of an old tree, a word dropped casu-
ally by a passer-by, a face that flits by ns nx the hurry-
in; crowd, have summoned the gone years to our sxde
anil filled us in a moment with memories of divmest
comfort or of deepest sorrow. The power of memory .s
lasting and is influential. A kindness has been done m
Leret^; but that seed, dropped into the sod of n.emor S
has borne fruitage in the gratitude of years. A harsh
W or an inflfcted injury, flung upon the memory
has rankled there into lawlessness and mto sm. ^o
1 cTn be solitary who has memory. The poorest of
: , if he have memo.7, is richer than he knows for by
t 'we can reproduce ourselves, be young even wl.u tl.
lin.bs are failing, and have all the past belongmg t^ .^
when the hair is silvery and the eyes are dim. How
"e a skeptic or a materiaUst, for whom memory
Tory moment raises the dead, and refuses to surrend.
the departed years to the destroyer; communes with
te ?oved on J though the shroud enfolds ^em; and
converses with cherished voices which for long years

M^MOBIEfl OF THE WAT.

have never epokon with tongues? I had alr^ost said,
but that 1 know the deep depravity of the human heart,
how can he sin who has memory ? For though the mur-
derer may stab his victim in secret, far from living wit-
nesses, and may carefully remove from the polluted earth
the foul traces of his crime, memory is a witness that lie
can neither gag nor stifle, and ho bears about with him
in his own terrible consciousness the blasted immor-
tality of his being. Oh, it is a rare and a divino
endowment ! Memories of sanctity or sin pervade all
the fii-mament of being. There is but the flitting
moment in which to hope or to enjoy, but in the calen-
dar of memory that moment is all time. This, then, is
the faculty which the Jewish law-giver calls up into
exercise : "Thou shalt remember all the way which the
Lord thy God hath led thee these forty years in the
wilderness." And in truth there could be no grander
history, nor one richer in instruction, than theirs.
From the time when they gi-oaned in bondage, and
their cry went up unto God, until now, when, after
forty years' vicissitudes, they stood upon the threshold of
the land of Canaan, each day would have its wonder and
its lesson. They had been led by a way which they knevr
not ; they had seen the laws of nature suspended, and
the mechanism of the firmament disorganized on their
behalf. In Egypt they had quailed beneath the very
Omnipotence which had delivered them, and they had
crouched trembling at the base of Sinai, while ever and
anon loomed through the darkness the flashings forth

WAT.

i I had alr>08t said,
y of the human heart,
For though the imir-
it, far from living wit-
rom the polhited earth
»ry is a witness that lie
bears about with him
iS the blasted imnlo^
a rare and a divine
tity or sin pervade all
re is but the flitting
mjoy, but in the calen-
ill time. This, then, is
iw-givcr calls up into
• all the way which the
cse forty years in tlie
e could be no grander
istruction, than theirs,
aned in bondage, and
until now, when, after
•d upon the threshold of
iild have its wonder and
a way which they knevr
' nature suspended, and
it disorganized on their
tailed beneath the very
•ed them, and they had
rf Sinai, while ever and
[icsa the fiaBhings forth

MEMOUreS OF THE WAT.

of the Divinity within. Sustained by perpetual mira-
cle, delivered with an outstretched arm, with the bar-
renness behind and the plenty before them, they were
to " rcmcmler the way which the Lord had led them in
the wilderness."

Brethren, our own, if we will only think of it, has
been an instructive history. There is much in the life
of each of us, in its rest, and in its change, in its
liazard, and in its deliverance, which will repay us if
we revisit it to-day. Bo it ours to recall the past, to
recover the obliterated circumstance, to abide again at
each halting-place of our journey, to decipher the
various inscriptions which the lapse of time has fretted
almost to decay, to remember, as the Israelites, the way
which the Lord hath led us.

1. There .would be in their history, in the first place,
the rememlrance of favor, and hj consequence of joy.
All through their course they had had very special^
manifestations of the power and goodness of God. Ho
had brought them out with a high hand from the prido
and tyranny of Pharaoh, he had cleared a path for
them through the obedient waters, the heavens had
rained down sustenance, the rock had quenched their
thirst ; Jehovah's presence had gone with them
through the tangled desert paih, by day in guiding
cloud, by night in lambent flame ; their raiment had
not waxed old upon them, neither their foot swelled,
for forty years. He had spoiled their enemies in
their sight. Sihon, king of the Amorites, and Og,

MKMOUIKS OK TIIK WAY.

kinc of Baslmn, liad lallcn before lu8 power. When
the law-<;ivor gatliorca the tril.cs in the plains of
Moab,l.c coul.l say: ":Not one thing of all that the
Lord your God, luith spoken hath ever failed ;" and
there was not a nmrinnr in the host, and there was not
an individual in the congregation that could cither gam-

say or deny.

Brethren, there could not fail to be great and grutelul
rejoicing in this remembrance of the loving kindness
of the Lord. That loving kindness has compassed us
from the first moment of our existence until now, and
by his favor he hath made our mountain to stand strong.
I would call up before you to-day those scenes in your
history upon which you arc apt to dwell with joyous
and grateful ,nemory. Tliink of the gracious Provi-
deuce who cared for your infancy, and who prevented
your doings .n youth ; think of the unexpected deliver-
ances, the unlooked-for surprises of blessing with which
you have been visited ; pause before the various stones
of help which you have erected in the. course of your
journey ; remember the stores of gladness inexhaust-
ible and constantly operating, that have been poured
upon you by the bounty of your heavenly Father ; the
joy of your heart, the joy peculiar to yourselves, the
natural and inevitable outflow of childhood's sportivc-
ness and glee, the joy of enlarging knowledge, the joy
of some new discovery of the beautiful, of some keener
thirst after the true ; the joy of travel, the sight of
earth's great cities, fair landscapes, and spots renowned

WAY.

MraiORIES OF THE WAY.

! Ilia po-.ver. Wliou
•8 ill the plains of
thing of all that tlic
h ever fiiiled ;" and
it, and there was not
hat could either gain-
he great and grateful
■ the loving kindness
DBS has cojnpaesed us
stenco until now, and
antain to stand strong,
r those scenes in yo«r
to dwell with joyous
if the gracious Provi-
y, and who prevented
he unexpected deliver-
5f hlessing with which
ore the various stones
in the course of your
A' gladness inexhaust-
liat have been poured
heavenly Father ; the
iliar to yourselves, the
if childhood's sportivc-
ng knowledge, the joy
autiful, of some keener
)f travel, the sight of
DS, and spots renowned

in song and story ; the joy of home, c>f parents whoso
love has cast a spell uj)on your after-lives, from which
vdii would not he disenchi\nte<l if you could — lirother,
and sister, and wife, and liusltand, names that nu'an
more to the heart, a thoiisand-fitld, than tlioy can ever
uicati to the ear; friends that knew you and that under-
stood you, those twin eoulri who horc with your M'cak-
iicsses without chiding, and Avho entered into your
dreams Avith sympathy. The joy of meetings, and of
fnrowells, and of that which came between more sweet
tlian each. Tho joy of the ("liurch ; victory over some
besetting temjitation ; ghid seasons of Christian fellow-
sliip, which can never bo forgotten ; sermons that
seemed, in their exquisite adaptedness, as if they had
])een made for you, to counsel in perplexity, to comfort
in trouble ; sacramental occasions when, in no dis^tem-
pered vision, you "saw heaven opened, and the Son
of Man standing upon the right hand of the throne of
God." The joy of usefulness, the gladness which thrilled
tlirough you when you succored the distressed, or were
valiant for the truth, or pitied and reclaimed the erring,
or flung the garment of praise over some bewildered
spirit of heaviness. Tlje joy that has sprung for you
out of sorrow, and has been all the brighter for the con-
trast ; deliverance from danger which threatened to be
imminent, recovery from sickness that seemed as though
it were about to be mortal ; the lightnings that have let
the glory through the clouds ; the flowers that you have
BO often plucked from tombs. Call up the mighty sum

MI'MoKIl^S <'!' ■'•"'■' ^^^^*

Of «la.lnc.9 now, nn.l as «ub(l«c«a m<\ Rr.vtofnl m t l.o
nuMMorv, you think of your past thno«, many a l.p
.-ill ,uiv.. and n,any a heart ho full, as you r.mm-
h,r tho way which the Lord hath led you lu the .v.l-

'^'TrThoro would, secondly, be in their history fAo re-
mcmhrance of sin, anrl, hy consequence of nn the re-
,nemhrancc of sorrow. Nothing is more remarkab e
a fact, and more illustrative of the depravity of t .
human heart, than the frequency ^vith ^vluch the clnhl-
ren of Israel sinned. Only three days after the >yon-
dcrful interpcition at the Eed Sea, their murmunngs
beffau. The miracle at Marah, although it appeased
their thirst, failed to inspire their eontidence, lor they
tcnpted Gud again at the Waters of Strife. AU.ough
the manna fell without censing, they lusted after the
fleshpots of Egypt. n.cir ^vhole history, indeed, is a
record of perpetual sin, a perpetual lapse, now into
iealousy, and now into sensualism, now into ivnbehet,
and now, alas, into idolatry. Tliese repeated trans-
gressions, of necessity, introduced them to sorrow, an I
they snlYered, in almost every variety, the strokes of
Jehovah's displeasure. They were wasted by success-
h-e pestilences; they were devoured by fiery BejTents
in the .vilderness; the earth opened her mouth and
pwallowed up the rebellious sons of Korah ; the Lord
went not forth with their hosts to battle ; and they fled
discomfited and crestfallen before the face of their
enemies. Their journey was made protracted and

AY.

MKMOKIKrt UK iUK WAY.

it\rl privtofnl in tho
tiinop, many a lip
full, as you rcmein-
ed you iu the wil-

their history tho re-
lence of sin, the re-
more remarkable as
lie depravity of the
rith which tho chihl-

davs after the won-
la, their niunnuringH
Ithough it appeased

contidcnce, for they
of Strife. Altliough
they lusted after the

history, indeed, it* a
taal lapse, now into
n, noAV into unbelief,
lieee repeated trans-

them to sorrow, and
aviety, the strokes of
•0 wasted by success-
red by fiery sei-pents
cncd her month and
=5 of Korah ; the Lord
battle ; and they fled
)re the face of their
made protracted and

diingeroua. Bi'reavement visited cvt-ry tent in turn.
Out! after another the heatl of each fuiiiily bowed, and
sunk, and full, 'iiifil of all tlioKo who left Kirypt, stal-
wart and binewy men, only two, aiul tliose of another
Kpirit, reniaiiicd to enter into the land of promise and
of rest; and tlie very hiw<^iver who culled u]) the
exercise of th(! memory, and the few old men, upon-
whose brown tho almond tree was ilourishing, thinly
scattered hero and there among tho tribes, knew that
their heads must bow, their frames dissolve in death,
ero tho van-standard of the liost could be unfurled
within the borders of the promised land. There could
not fail to bo subdued and pensive emotion in this
aspect of tho renu'mbranco of tho way. Our own
history has its sorrowful side, too, which it will be well
for us to remember to-day. All sorrow, of course,
comes originally from sin, but there is somo sorrow
which wo inherit from no personal transgression, but
which has been handed down to us, a sad entail of
sufTering, a disastrous transmission from our earliest
fathers. Tho remembrance of such sorrows stretches
far back in tho history of every one's life. Perhapa
you were crnelly treated in youth, and you can hardly
think of it now without shuddering. Perhaps somo
bitter disappointment made your path ungenial, or
somo early uukindness came like a frost-blight upon
your fiesh, young hopes, just when you were beginning
to indulge them. Perhaps a long sickness chained you
down, and yoii suffered the illness of hope deferred,

MEMOlilKS OF Tllh WAV.

and you Avondered whether the cheek would ever bloom
again in the ruddiness of health, and whether the elas-
tic puke would ever bound and bwell through the veins.
Perhaps there are other memories— most likely there
are-so dense in their darkness as to cast all the rest
into a relief of lesser shadow. The first breaking up
of your homes, the stroke that swept you into orphan-
hood, or that took away ihe desire of your eyes witli a
stroke, or that cast you upon a cold world's charities
for work and bread. Call up tliese memories, thougli
the heart bleeds afresh as you think of them. They
have their uses; they need not be summoned for the
first time in vain. And then the memory of siu-
don't hide it, don't be cowardly about it; confront
your yesterdays, not in defiance, but in penitence and
prayer ; your long resistance to the strivings of the
Holy Spirit, the veiled impertinence with which you
refused to hearken to a father's counsels and were deai"
to the entreaties of a mother's prayers. The sins of
your youth, which, though you humbly trust are par-
doned by the grace of God, plague you still, like the
scars of some old wound, with shooting pains in many
a change of weather. Your unfaithfulness since the
Lord called you, your indulgence since your conversion
in things you dared not for your lives have done while
you were seekii.g mercy. How you have cherished
some secret idol, or forborne to deliver them that were
drawn to death, or dwelt in your ceiled houses, intent
only upon you own aggrandizement and pleasure,

)F TUH, WAY.

the cheek would ever bloom
lealth, and whether the elas-
iuul bwell through tho vchis.
neuiories— most likely there;
kuess as to cast all the rest
low. The liriit breaking up
that swept you into orphan-
le desire of your eyes with a
ipon a cold world's charities
1 up these memories, though
8 you think of them. They
sd not be summoned for the
then the memory of sin-
cowardly about it; confront
[efiancc, but in penitence and
ance to the strivings of the
rapertinence with which you
ther's counsels and were deaf
other's prayers. The sins of
;h you humbly trust are par-
ked, plague you still, like the
with shooting pains in many
i'our unfaithfulness since the
iulgence since your conversion
for your lives have done while
y. How you have cherished
)rne to deliver them that were
t in your ceiled houses, intent
ggrandizement and pleasure,

MKMOKIKS Ol'' THIO WAV.

while the house of God lay waste. Call up these
memories, do not disguise them ; tlioy will bow you in
lunnility before God.

This is the memory of tho way. "Thou shalt re-
member all the way which the Lord thy God hath led
thee." All the way— it is necessary that all the way
should be remembered— the liill of ditliculty as well as
the valley of humiliation, the time of prosperity as well
as the time of pain. Necessary for our advantage that
we may understand our position, learn the lessons of
providence and grace; necessary tiiat we may con-
struct a narrative, for every event in our history is con-
nected and mutually interpreted; necessary that we
may trace the outwork..-- of Jehovah's plan in the
successive achievements of our lives. And if by the
memory of joy you are impressed with God's benefi-
cence, kept in cheerful piety, and saved from the foul
sin of repining; and if by the memory of sorrow you
arc molded into a gentler type, taught a softer syni-
pathy, and receive a heavenward impulse, and antici-
pate a blessed reunion ; if by the memory of sin you
are reminded of your frailty, and rebuked of your
pride, stimulated to repentance and urged to trust m
God— then it will be no irksomeness, but a heaven-sent
and precious blessing that you have thus « remembered
the way that the Lord hath led thee in the wilder-

iiesb.

II I come, secondly, to notice the pcbposes of Divine
Providence in the jouenev. Tliese are stated to bo

MICMOKIKS Ol' 'nil'- WAT.

three- "to humble thee and to prove thee, to know
what was in thine heart, whether thou wouldest keep
his coin.nandments or no." The passage tells us that
in all God's dealings with the children of Israel, whether
ho correetod tliena in judgment or enriched them with
bounty, there were purposes at work-purposes of spi-
rituardisciplino, intended to induce self-searclung and
the improvement of their hearts and lives.

1 The first purpose that is spoken of is to indua
humility-- io humble thee." Every event, alike u)
their deliverance from Egypt and in their passage
throu-h the wilderness, was calculated to show them
their "own feebleness, and their constant dependence
upon a high and upon a superior power. What could
human might have effected for them in the way of
securing their deliverance from Egypt? Tlieir spirits
were broken by long years of slavery ; the iron had not
only gyved their limbs, it had entered into their soul.
Tiiey had not the heart, any one of them, to strike for
freedom ; and if they had even meditated a rising, they
were a people of such divided counsels, and so dis-
trustful of each other, that it would have been but a
paroxysm of frantic rebellion, which would have root, d
the Pharaohs on the empire, and have riveted uj) n
themselves the yoke of a more bitter bondage. Wlum
the permission 'for departure w^ns wrung reluctantly
from the plague-stricken king, what could human
might have availed for them, when he repented of his
momentary graciousness, and pursi.od after them in hot

haste, an.
with the
of feroci(
perience
They we
had ever
pitched t
hour the;
strike tlu
campmei
marches
over it :
went, th
matin so:
congrega
or wood^
sound,
ance. I!
mured l
yeai'S up
had the
gracefuU
with mai

AT.

MEMOKIKS OF JlIK WAY.

rove thee, to know
;bou wouldest keep
lassago tells us that
m of Israel, whether
enriched them with
.lc_pnrpose3 of spi-
B self-searching and
d lives.

ken of is to indua
ery event, alike in
id in their passage
latcd to show them
;onstant dependence
lower. What could
hem in the way of
igypt? Tlieir spirits
!ry ; the iron had not
tered into their soul,
if them, to strike for
jditated a rising, they
counsels, and so dis-
ild have heen h\it a
ch would have ront^ >\
rl have riveted uj) i;
ttcr bondage. Wh«;u
IS wrung reluctantly
what could human
en ho repented of his
31 od after them in hot

haste, and they were on the borders of the Red Sea,
with the giant waves barring their progress, and a host
of ferocious enemies behind i Everything in their ex-
perience taught them their dependence upon God.
They wore led through a region that no adventurer
had ever explored, no foot had ever trod. When they
pitched their tents at eventide, they knew not at what
hour they should strike them, nor whether they should
strike them at all ; there might be forced years of en-
campment in that one spot; there might be forced
marches and rapid progress ; but they had no control
over it : as the pillar went, and wherever the pillar
went, they went ; and as they sounded forth their
matin song of praise, there was not a rian in the whole
congregation that could tell througli ^l i * rocky clefts
or woody defiles the echoes of tlic v^ • • mn woixld
sound. Their supply was as miraculoi.^ us their guid-
ance. No plough had turned up the soil, no river mur
mured by their side, they had never gazed for fortj
years upon one solitary blossom of the spring-time, nor
had the golden grain ever once in their sight bent
gracefully to the sickle of the reaper : they were fed
with manna, which they knew not.

" When faint they were and parched with drought,
Water at his word gushed out."

Oh ! it is the world's grandest illustration of man's
absolute feebleness and of God's eternal power. 600,000
fighting men, beside women and cliildren, led by Divine

MKMoKIKS Ol- TlIK WAY.

leadership, and fed by Divine bounty, for the space of
forty years. Brethren, the dealings of Providence with
ourselves are intended to show us our dependeuco upon
God, and to humble us in the dust under his mighty
hand. Wo arc very proud, sometimes, and we talk
about our endowments, and we boast largely of what wo
have done, and what we intend to do; but we can do
absolutely nothing. Tlie athletic frame— how Boon can
he bring it down 1 The well-endowed heritage— hovr
soon can he scatter it 1 The mental glance, keen and
piercing— how soon can he bring upon it the dimness
and bewilderment of years ! AVe cannot, any one of
us, bring ourselves into being ; we cannot, any one of
us, sustain ourselves in being for a moment. Alas!
who of us can stay the spirit, when the summons hits
gone forth that it must die? We are free; we cannot
help feeling that we are free ; and yet we can as litdc
help feeling that our freedom is bounded, that it has a
horizon, something that indicates a watchful Providence
outside. How often have we aimed at building for
ourselves tabernacles of remembrance and of rest, and
we have gazed upon the building joyfully as it pro-
gressed to completion, and then the breath of the Lord
has blown upon it, and it has been scattered, and we
have been turned adrift and shelterless; and, lol
dwellings already provided for us of firmer materials
and of more excellent beauty, upon which w.e bestowed
no labor nor thought. And so it is with all the matters
of human glory. Tlie strong man rejoiceth in his

strength

iinus, b

man gk

teption,

ance, tli

his rich

foresee,

meiits c

Alil

l)uni ii

liitely

wlien €

whom

iugl

life, on

otfonce

heavei

tion 01

are po

our d

lesson

sins y

the p

correc

you i

merci

p-atit

lie hi

Valk

WAY.

[ity, for Ihe space of
;9 of Providence with
our ck'pendeiico upon
ist under his mighty
otimcs, and we talk
ist largely of what wo
o do ; but we can do
frame — how soon can
iowed heritage — how
tital glance, keen and

upon it the dimness
''o cannot, any one of
we cannot, any one of
or a moment. Alas!
len the summons hits
e are free ; we cannot
id yet we can as little
bounded, that it has a

a watchful Providence
limed at building for
ranee and of rest, and
ing joyfully as it pro-
the breath of the Lord
been scattered, and we

shelterless; and, lol
us of firmer materials
)on which w.e bestowed
b is with all the matters

man rejoiceth in his

MEMORIKS OF TlIK WAY.

strength, and magnitieth himself in the might of h.s
,nus, but the Lord hath made him strong; the wise
,uau ..brifieth hi.nsolf in his intellect, but the clear per-
ception, and the brilliant fancy, and the tluent utter-
ance, these are God's gifts ; the rich man rejoiceth in
his riches, but the prudence to plan, and the sagacity to
foresee, and the industry to gather, these arc the bestow-

ineiits of God.

Alil why will men sacrifice to their own net, and
burn incense to their own drag, when they have abso-
lutely nothing which they have not received; and
when every gift cometh from the Father of light, with
Avhom there is no variableness, neither shadow of turn-
i„.r 1 And in the realm of morals, and in the spiritual
lilV our feebleness is the same. A conscience void of
olfence, a good report of those that arc without a
heavenly purpose or a holy resolve, the inner purifica-
tion or the comely outgrowth of a beneficent life— we
are poor to compass them. We acquire them only by
our dependence upon God. Have you learned this
lesson, this deep, hard lesson of humility ? Forty years'
sins you have committed! have they humbled you m
the presence of God? Forty years' chastenings have
corrected you ! have they humbled your pride or iretted
you into greater audacity of rebellion? Forty years'
mercies have blessed you! have they excited your
.n-atitude or inflated your vanity ? Brethren, we must
be humbled, if we would be happy. It wan m the
Vall(;y of Humiliation, you remember, that the lad that

MEM0RIK3 OK THE WAT.

had the herb heart's-ease in his boBom kept his serene

and his rt>joicinK' bomc.

'> Then the second purpose of God's provideucc in
the journey is to prove ns. The idea soenis to be, that
a skilU-ul chemist employs tests for the purpose of ana-
lysis, and to discover tlie composition of that which h
examines, so God uses the occurrences of life as a moral
touchstone, to discover the tendencies and incbnations
of man. Thus wc read God did tempt, test, try, prove
Abraham, requiring from him a sacrifice, excessive and
apparently cruel, in order that he migbt know the
strength of his servant's faith, and of his filial fear.
There were many of those testing circumstances m the
history of the children of Israel. They were tested by
their mercies, as when, feeling the manna insipid, they
lusted after the flesh-pots of Egypt ; they were tested by
their duties ; they were tested by their calamities, as at
the Eed Sea, and in the conflicts with the bests ol
Amalek. They were tested by their compariions, as
when they formed unholy league with Midianite idola-
ters, and brought upon themselves that swift destruction
which Balak wished for, but which the cowardly Balaam
dared not for his life invoke. Brethren, God has Ins
crucible still. In our past lives we shall find circum-
stances that have tried ourselves, and we shall remem-
ber the results of the trial sometimes with devout
gratitude, oftener with unfeigned shame. Our afllic-
tions have tried us, and we have thought that we have
done well to be angry, and we have arraigned the pro-

ceedings

mockery (

of to-morr

to-day wa

us. Wo

result has

their spi

unjust or

or with 1

trusted, 1

ing out ]

things h

ineeknesi

spoken v

to pray,

grasp tl

Bcventyi

ns, and

reliance

mold of

a point(

curled,

very co

God. '.

the wil(

if we hi

shall b(

sinful

whethe

AT.

lom kept lu8 sereno

iod's providcucc in
!a Boems to be, that
the purpose of ana-
on of that which hi
COB of life as a moral
jics and inclinations
smpt, test, try, prove
crificc, excessivo and
liC might know the
lid of his filial fear.
circuniBtances in the
They were tested by
5 manna insipid, they
; ; they were tested by
their calamities, as at
tB with the liosts of
their compariione, as
with Midianite idola-
s that swift destruction
[\ the cowardly Balaam
Brethren, God lias his
we shall find circura-
, and we shall remem-
tnietimes with devout
;d shame. Our afilic-
thought that we hftve
ave arraigned the pro-

MUMOUIKB OF THE WAY.

ccedings of God at the bar of our limited reason (solemn
mockery of judicature !) when, perhaps, the reflection
of to-morrow would have approved what the distrust of
to-day was so ready to condemn. Our duties have tried
us. We have felt the shrinking of the flesh, and the
rcBult has been sometimes their reluctant and sometimes
their spiritless discharge. Other people have been
unjust or unkind to us : we have met with ingratitude
or with treachery ; our own familiar one, in whom we
trusted, has betrayed us ; slander has been busy belch-
ing out her calumnies against our tair fame ; all these
things have tested our patience, our endurance, our
meekness, our long-sufi-ering, and, like Moses, we have
Bpoken unadvisedly, or, like the disciples, we have had
to pray, » Lord, increase our faith," before we could
grasp the large and princely idea of forgiveness to
seventy times seven. Often companionships have tried
us, and we have shown how small has been our self-
reliance and how easily we have taken the hue and
mold of the society in which we were thrown, and how
a pointed finger, or a sarcastic laugh, or a lip scornfully
curled, can shame the manhood out of us, and make us
verv cowards in resisting evil, or in bearing witness for
God. Thus have we been, thus has God proved us in
the wilderness, and if we are in earnest for heaven, and
if we have in any measure profited by the discipline, we
shall be thankful for the trial. Placed as wo are m a
sinful world, exposed to its every-day influences,
whether of good or evil, we need a piety which can

MKMORIK9 OK 'niK WAY.

luaiiitain itself in all circumstances, and nudcr every
pressure. The trial will be a matter of clioico, preferred
by every godly and valiant Christian Boldior. llu
feels as tlioiigli that were an inglorious heaven that was
won without a sacritice and without a toil ; he kni)\vs
that the promise is not that he phall pass through the
wilderness without the sight of an enemy ; it is a better
promise than that— that we shall never sec an enemy
that we cannot master, and that by God's grace wo can-
not completely overcome ; and he had rather don his
armor for a foeman worthy of his steel, for an enemy
that will at once prove his own valor and show the
resources of the Captain of his salvation, than he would
don it in order to prance in the gorgeous apparellings of
some holiday review. Oh ! believe me, the piety whicli
the world needs, which the church needs, and which we
must have if we would be approved of our Great
Master, must not be that sickly sentiinentaiity which
lounges on ottomans, and discusses social and moral
problems while it is at ease in Sion ; it must be the
hardy principle pining in inaction, robust from healthy
exercise, never so happy as when it is climbing up the
slopes of some difficult duties, and has the breeze from
the crest of the mountain stirring amid its waving hair;
and happy, thrice happy, will it be for you if, as the
result of the inspection, you can say, as David did,
" Thou hast proved my heart and thou hast visited nic
in the night ; thou hast tried me and shalt find nothing.
I am purposed that my heart shall not transgress, con-

WAY.

MEMORIES OF TOE WAT.

ices, and nuder every
ter of cl-.oicc, preferred
ihristian soldier, llu
)riou3 lieavoii that was
liout a toil ; ho km)\vs
kIiuU pass through the
[1 enemy ; it is a better
1 never see an enemy
by God's grace wo can-
he had rather don his
lis steel, for an enemy
n valor and show the
dvation, than he would
orgeous apparellings of
JVC me, the piety whicli
3h needs, and which mc
l)proved of our Great
y sentiineutaiity which
iisses social and moral
I Sion ; it must be the
)n, robust from healthy
;n it is climbing up the
nd has the breeze from
g amid its waving hair ;
it be for yon if, as the
an say, as David did,
nd thou hast visited nic
i and shalt find nothing,
hall not transgress, con-

cerning the works of men ; by the word of thy lips
I liavc kept me from the paths of the destroyer."

,3. And then the third purpose of Providence in the
journey is " to hicno what was ifi thine /(mr^— whether
thou wouldcst keep his commandments or no." Tlic
human heart is a microcosm — a little world, containing in
itself all the strifes, and all the hopes, and all the fears,
and all the ventures of the larger world outside. Tlio
human heart ! who can unravel its mystery, or decipher
its hidden law? The smile may play upon the lip,
while beneath there is the broken, burning heart ; and,
on the other hand, the countenance may have shadow
of anxiety, while the sunlight dances gaily on the soul.
Tlie human heart! Human knowledge can give us very
little acquaintance with it ; such knowledge is too won-
derful for man ; it is high, and he cannot attain unto it ;
but there is One who knows it, and knows all its tortuous
policy, and all its sinister motive, and he is anxious that
we should know it, too, and one purpose of his provi-
dential dealings with us is, that we may know what is
in our heart; and yet of all sciences none is so difficult
of attainment as this same science of self-knowledge.
Whether it be from the deceitfulness of the object of
study, or whether it be from the morbid reluctance,
almost amounting to fear, with which men shrink from
acquaintance with themselves, there are few that have
the bravery to pray, "Lord, make me to know myself."
Indeed, it were a hideous picture if it were suddenly
unveiled in the presence of us all. When the Lord

'tsm

MliMOBIKS OF TUB WAY.

would show Ezelilol the abominations of Jerusalem, lie
led him through euccL-ssive clmmbcrs of imiigery, upon
the walls of which were portrayed their loathsome and
unworthy doings. Ah 1 if our enormities were to ho
thus tapestried in our bight, who oi us could bear tlie
disclosure? There was deep self-knowledge and deep
humility in the word of the old reformer, who, when he
saw a criminal led off amid the jeers of the multitude to
be hanged at Tyburn, turned around sighing, and said :
"There, but for the grace of God, goes old John Brad-
ford." There is a very affecting illustration of what can
lurk unsuspected in the human heart, in the 8th chapter
of the 2nd book of Kings: "And Elisha came to
Damascus ; and Ben-hadad, the king of Syria, was sick ;
and it was told him, saying. The man of God is conic
hither. And the king said unto llazael. Take a present
in thine hand, and go, meet the man of God, and in-
quire of the Lord by him, saying, Shall I recover of this
disease? So llazael went to meet him, and took a pre-
sent witli him, even of every good thing of Damascus,
forty camels' burden, and came and stood before him,
and said. Thy son, Ben-hadad, king of Syria, hath sent
me to thee, saying, Shall I recover of this disease? And
Elisha said unto him, Go, say unto him, Tliou mayest
certainly recover. [The disease itself is not fated to
destroy thee ; there is no decree of that kind]. Howbeit
the Lord hath showed mo that he shall surely die.
And he settled his countenance steadfastly, until be was
ashamed ; and the man of God wept. And Hazael said.

Why \^
know t
Israel ;
voimg
their c
And H
utrocitii
should
quaint!
there li
of char
resistan
better
many a
crime,
come h
of retri
in that
sad mu
express
that he
hen tag
would ]
their o
the ten

wllO CO

agiues
verge c
and liti

MKMOKIKJ OK TinO WAY.

«8

B of Jerusalem, be
I of iiniigery, upon
loir loathsome ami
luiticH were to lifi
us could bear tlie
owledge and deqi
[ucr, who, when he
of the multitude to

sighing, and said :
oes old John Brad-
,tration of what can
;, in the 8tli chapter
id Elisha came to
J of Syria, Avas sick ;
uiu of God is conic
zael. Take a present
lan of God, and in-
lall I recover of this
lim, and took a pre-
thing of Damascus,
1 stood before liini,

of Syria, hath sent
>f this disease 2 And
1 him, Tliou mayest
self is not fated to
hat kind]. Howbeit
lie shall surely die.
idfastly, until be was
t. And Hazael said,

Why woepeth my lord? And he answered, Bocauee I
know the evil that thou wilt do unto the children of
Israel ; their Kirongholds wilt thou set on fire, and their
ynimg men wilt thou slay with the sword, and wilt dash
their children, and rip up their women with cliild.
And Hazael said [shocked at the bare mention of such
iitrocities], But what, is thy servant a dog, that ho
should do this great thing?" But, as the old divino
quaintly says, "the dog did it after all." Brethren,
there lurks this danger in us all ; there is no superiority
of character in ourselves; there is no firmer power of
resistance to evil. In our unaided strength we are no
better fortified against the extremes of iniquity than
many around us who now wallow in the atrocities of
crime. That speculative merchant, whose aflairs had be-
come hopelessly embarrassed, and who, in the vain hope
of retrieval, plied the too ready pen of the forger, and
in that sad moment forfeited the probity of years — how
sad must have been his rellections when, to use his own
expressive words, ho "agonized on," when he thought
that he should transmit to his children nothing but the
heritage of a blasted name, and that those children
would have an up-hill struggle all the way through life,
their o^vn blamelessness being a small matter against
the terrible opprobrium of their father's misdoings. lie
who continues in the feast until wine inflames him, im-
agines that he can tread without danger upon the giddy
verge over which mviltitudes have fallen ; but, by little
and little, he cherishes the unappeasable thirst for dr'nt

Mb:MuUlKM Ot THE WAY.

until it l.t'pomcs a morbid phyKical iimludy, and, JVantic
and di'siiuiriii;^', lu; nislicH down into tlio drunkanr.*
gravu. Tliat .yuiitli who, ut flic Bolicitation »»f sonio j,'ii,v
conii.anion, vuntnres, lor the first tinio, into the foul iiell
(.f a «,Mniiiig-hou8e, and who joins in the perilous haziinl,
wouM Bi;otf at the prophet who should tell him that, :i
lew years hence, a gambler and a spendthrift, he bhuulil
live in jntverty and die in slianie. Tiiat young muii
who, to gain funds, perhaps, for the Sundav excursion.
or for the n-ight's debauch, took the money from his
master's till with the conscientious intention t)f rei)liic-
iug it at the time of the quarterly supply, little thought
that that deceitful heart of his would land him in a
felon's dock, or, npon the deck of the transport shiii,
waft him to a returidess distance from his country and
his home. Brethren, from a thousand causes of disaster
aud of shame with which our experience can furnish m,
and which we read in the history of every-day life, it
becomes us, with godly jealousy watching over our own
hearts, to guard against the beginnings of evil ; and as
we think of blighted reputations aad of ruined hopes—
of many once fair, and innocent, and scrupidoue, and
promising as we — as wo gaze npon the wreck of many
a gallant vessel stranded by our side, which we saw
steaming out of the harbor with stately pennons — let im
remember that in us there are the same tendencies to
evil, that it is grace — only grace — which hath made us
to differ, and that each instance of calamity and of sin,
while it evokes our pity — not our scorn — for those tiuit

have Ro j
monition
f^tiUHJeth
tliiiie hci
inonts or
III. If
liiive tn
which w
know UK
you did
way hot
severity
tli(> good
;i Siivioii
w;is tlio
Wild ther
wore ha
tliem, ar
Bei lent,
dcrness
wildernc
tliat win
sliould 1
those m
sorrow, ■
11CS8 and
noss to :
repeate<]
yourselv

a«»

VAY.

iimludy, and, iVaiitic
into tho drunkftnlV
ifitatitm »»f sonio j;iiv
iiio, into the Ibiil hell
I the poriioim haziinl,
ould tull him that, ;i
pundthrift, ho bhuukl
!. Tliat yoiiiij,' niuii
10 Sunday oxcuibioii,
the money from his

intention ot' n'phic-
jiipply, little thouglit
iould land him in a
t" tho transport bhiji,
tVoin hi.s country and
and causes of disaster
ricnce can furnish m,
r of every-day life, it
atching over our own
minga of evil ; and as
lad of ruined hopes—

and 8ci"upulou8, and
)n the wreck of many
• side, which we saw
;atcly pennons — let us
16 same tendencies to
-which hath made us
f calamity and of sin,
' scorn — for those tiiut

MKMUlUliS «)K TUIC WAV.

have so grievously ei-red, shoiiM proclaim in solemn ad-
iiiiiiution to ourselves, " Let him that thinkelh ho
ftiuideth take heed lest he fall." "To know what is in
tliino heart, whether thou wotildest keep his eommand-
iDoiits or no."

111. Jf you have tlius travelled in the way that you
liiive tntdden, tliere will he .maw isr.s ok tuk mkmokv
which wo eamiot stay to particularize to-day. You will
know more of God at the conclu 'on of your visit than
you did at tho commencement. You will behold in the
way both tho goodness and the severity of God — tho
severity which punishes sin wiicrcvcr it is to be found,
till" goodness which itself provides a substitute ami linds
;i Saviour. Where do you not ihi<\ him, rather? There
was the stream gushing forth from the smitten rock —
was there not? — and tho perishing and thirsty Israelites
were hai)py. "Tliey drank of the rock that followed
them, and that rock was Christ." There was the brazen
sei lent, the symbol of accepted propitiation in the wil-
derness of sill. " As Moses lifted up the serpent in tho
wilderness, even so hath the Son of Man been lifted np,
that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but
sliould have everlasting life." Oh, as you gather up
those memories — the memory of joy, the memory of
sorrow, tho memory of sin — as you remember the good-
ness and the loving kindness of the Lord, his faithful-
ness to fulfill his promises, his tenderness, which your
repeated rebellions have not caused to fail — gather up
yourselves in one earnest consecration of flesh and

MKMUlilKS OF TIJK WAV.

spirit, which I take to be the best consc-ration of tk
house which you now dedicate to God-living temploB,
pillars in the house of G )d, that shall go out no more
forever.

,F TUK WAY.

the best conse<Tation of tlie
ate to God— living tcmplos,
, tliat shall go out no more

II.

rf-i

THE BELIEVER'S SUFFICIENCY.

" Not that wc arc sufficient of ourselves to think anything as of our-
selves ; but our sufficiency is of God."— 2 Corinthians, iii. 6.

The promise contained in these words is one of the
most encouraging and one of the most comprehensive
in the Bible. It is the essence of all Christian expe-
rience ; it is the moral which the Scriptures continually
inculcate, and it stands in the heraldry of heaven as the
motto on the believer's arms. The all-sufficiency of
God has been the support and comfort of the faithful in
all aces of the Church. On this rock Abraham built
his hope; to this refuge in all. times of trial the sweet
Singer of Israel fled; by this confidence the great
Apostle of the Gentiles was constantly and persever-
ingly upheld. The all-sufficiency of God gives strength
to patience, gives solidity to hope, gives constancy to
endurance, gives nerve and vitality to eifort. Tlic
weakest believer, with this great treasure in possession,
is enabled to go steadily forward, sacrificing no duty,
resisting all sin; and, am'dst every horror and every
liumiliation, feeling within him the still, clear light of

THE BKLir.V Kit's SUFKICTExNCY.

life. To this the most ominent saints arc iiulebtcd for
all they enjoy, for all they arc enabled to perform ; and
though assailed by various foes without, and by various
fears within, by this they can return from every con-
llict, bearing the spoils of victory; and as with tlic
trophies of their triunipli tliey erect the grateful Ebcno-
zer, you may see this inscription written upon them all:
" Having obtained help of God, we continue unto this
day," feeling most deeply the impotency of the nature
they inherit, and penetrated with the sense of the diffi-
culties by which they arc surrounded. When faith
is in exercise, they point to this as a never-fail-
ing source of strength; and in the course of their
imtried and unswerving pilgrimage, this is their lan-
guage : " Let ^ho wise man, if he will be so foolish,
trust in his wisdom; let the rich man glory in his
wealth ; let the proud man vaunt his own dignity ; let
the trifler make the world bis defence; ne dare not
trust to such refuges of lies, we dare not build upon
foundations that are palpably insecure. We feel our
own nothingness ; but we feel our own might, because
our sufficiency is of God.

From the commencement of the chapter out of which
these words are taken, we learn that the same exclu-
siveness of spirit existed in the days of Paul which
exists in certain quarters now, and that the same charge
—that of false apostleship— was brought against him
that has since been so plentifully flung at eminent
ministers of Jesus Christ. It is no small consolation to

find that

The apos1

any man '

serve in e

argument

Church a

verdict ai

again to

others, ej

commen(

changed

tious, yo

written i

asmuch

of Chris

auythin<

God; n(

ill ilesh;

through

even in

avoid a

disdain

think a

euhject

the SO''

able m:

but of

givcth

great e

TUE BELIliVUli's SUFFICIEN'CY.

[ENCY.

ts arc iinlebtcd for
cd to perfonn ; and
lOut, aiul In- various
rn from every con-
' ; anil as with tlic

the grateful Ehcno-
itten upon them all :
e contimie unto this
)tency of the nature
le sense of the tliffi-
aded. When faith
is as a never-fail-
thc course of their
TO, this is their lan-
} -will he BO foolisli,
I man glory in his
his o^vn dignity ; let
efence ; ise dare not
dare not build upon
ecure. We feel our

own might, because

chapter out of which
hat the same exclu-
days of Paul which
that the same charge
brought against him
ly flung at eminent
• small consolation to

find that we are thus unchurched in good company.
The apostle, however, answers the accusation just as
any man would do, who had no particular interest to
serve in surrounding a great question with a crowd of
a,..nunents anything but luminous-he appeals to the
Church amongst whom he had labored, and asks then-
verdict as to his success as an.inister: " Do we begui
a.ain to commend ourselves, or need we, as some
oUiers, epistles of commendation to you, or letters ot
commendation from you? Ye are our epistle Ljour
changed hearts, your holy lives, your transformed affec^
ti.nis, your heavenly deportment-ye arc our epistles]
written in our hearts, known and read of all men : for-
asumch as ye are manifestly declared to be the epistle
of Christ ministered by us, written not with ink [nor
anything so fading], but with the Spirit of the living
God; not in tables of stone [nor anything so hard], but
iu aeshy tables of the heart; and such trust have we
throu-h Christ to Godward ;" then, so anxious is he
even In this moment of his ti-iumphant vindication to
avoid all appearance of boasting, that he puts in a great
disclaimer : " not that we are sufficient of ourselves to
think anything of ourselves; all that, whether in us as
subjects or by us as the instruments, has been done by
the sovereign power of God, who also hath made .s
able ministers of the Kew Testament, not of the letter
but of the Spirit; for the letter kiUeth, but the Spirit
' -nvcth life." The Apostle in these verses untolds tho
great secret both of ministerial call and of ministerial

/^O THE belikver's bdffioiency.

efficiency It is God, not man, that makes, not finds,
aLlc uaniBtcrs of the Kew Testament. Tlie tones of l.m
voice are heard, saying to them, "Son, go .vork to-day
in my vineyard." And it is a remarkable fact, one
^vhich .ve should never forget, that this voice is ncvov
heard in a heart where there is no faith ; consequently,
the prime qualification for a minister of the Christian
religion is the heart that has been melted by its love,
and*' a consciousness Avhicli has felt it in its power.
Without this, all else is unavailing; the attainment of
the most profound and extensive knowledge, the grasp
of the loftiest and most scholarly intellect, the posses-
sion of the most commanding eloquence, the treasures
of the most imperial fancy, the research of the most
accomplished -holar, all these are useless, worse than
useless, if they be not consecrated by the Spirit of the
Holy One; only the trappings that decorate the traitor,
and make bis treason yet the fouler; only the weapons
of more imminent danger, and the portents of more
terrific and appalling rum. The most distinguished
minister within the compass of the Catholic Church,
however eminent ho may be, however signally his
labors have been blessed, has reason to remember,
every moment of his ministerial career, "I am nothing,
less than nothing; but my sufficiency is of God." Tiie
comfortable and scriptural doctrine contained in the
text is not more true of ministers, of whom it was
immediately spoken, than of Christians in general, to
whom it may be properly applied. The station is

ENCY.

t makes, not finds,
t. Tlie tones of liis
>on, go work to-day
nmrkablo fact, one

this voice is never
iiitli ; consequently,
ter of tlio CLristiau

melted by its love,
It it in its power.
; the attainment of
nowledge, the grasp
intellect, the posses-
[uence, the treasures
cscarch of the most
3 useless, worse than
by the Spirit of the
; decorate the traitor,
!r ; only the weapons
he portents of more
3 most distinguished
he Catholic Church,
lowever signally his
•eason to remember,
ireer, " I am nothing,
ncyisofGod." Tiie
ine contained in tl>e
jrs, of whom it was
istians in general, to
lied. The station is

TUK BKUEVEU'S SUKFICIKNCY.

diltcrcnt, the strength is the same. Your suffi-
ciency, as well as ours, is of God. To take the
wonh in this extended sense, wc may find in them
matter of profitable meditation, by considering first
the nature of this sufficiency and then the authority
\\lnch believers have to expect this sufficiency for

themselves.

I. First, the sufficiency of God may be cr^sidcrcd
either as pkopeu, or cosqidnicatkd. By his essential, or
l.roper sulficiency, we mean that he is self-existent, self-
sufficient, independently happy ; angels ai d men may
(leclaro that they cannot increase his glory ; it is eter-
nal, underived, perfect. lie has said that he will never
give it to another. There was no necessity in his
nature impelling him to create the universe ; he conld
have existed alone, and he did exist alone, long be-
fore the everlasting silence was broken by a human
footstep, or interrupted by a human voice ; and that
Divine solitude was the solitude of matchless happiness.
The best praises, therefore, the most extensive services
uf his worshippers, are but reflections of the glory
which dwells originally in himself. But it is of the
sufficiency of God in relation to his creatures that it is
our province especially to speak. And it is in this
sense God is good to all, and his tender mercies are
over all his works.

1. He is sufficient, in the first place— let us take low
ground first— /or the preservation of the universe which
\k hands have made. From the sublime account

THE nKLIEVER's SUFFICIENCY.

Mhich the Scriptures give us of creation, we learn that
the heavens were made by hun, and all the host ol
them bv the breath of his mouth ; and as we know that
iiothin- earthly has within it the power to sustain itsclt,
we are further assured that he upholdeth all tlungs hy
the same word of his power. It is by this ever-breath-
in- word, constantly in exercise, that the sun ehmes,
thtt t!ie moon walks in brightness, that the stars pursue
their courses in the sky; the clouds arc marshalled by
his Divine decree, and when he uttercth his voice there
is a multitude of waters in the heavens. Eeason looks
at this systematic and continuous regularity, and
admires it, and refers it to the operation of second
causes, and argues very philosophically about the
nature and fitness of things; but piety looks through
the complications of the mechanism to the hand that
formed it. The universe is to her but one vast trans-
parency, through which she can gaze on God ; her
pathway and her communion are on the high places of
creation, and there, far above all secondary and sub-
ordinate agencies, she discovers the hiding of liis power.
The symmetry of nature is to her more beautiful,
because God has produced it. Tlic deep harmonies of
the systems come more tunefully upon her ear because
the hand of the Lord has awakened them.

' '■, ■■/'''

" What though no real voice nor sound . , , ,^
Amid tho radiant orbs be found? ,, ,

In faith's quiclt car thoy all rejoice,
And utter forth a noble voice, '

from c
God.
of tho
at the
in tho
there
strong
liabite
selves,
enees
the ea
with i
are bi
know]
the af
platio
tion,

[ENCT.

ation, we learn that
,nd all tlio host of
md as we know that
iwcr to sustain itself,
oldeth all things hy
i by this ever-breath-
:hat the sun ehines,
that the stars pursue
8 arc marshalled by
tercth his voice there
ivens. Eeason looks
0U8 regularity, and

operation of second
lophically about the
t piety looks through
ism to the hand that
)r but one vast trans-
[1 gaze on God ; her
on the high places of
I secondary and sub-
le hiding of his power.

her more beautiful,
lie deep harmonies of
npon her car because
ed them.

CO nor sound
; found?
all rejoice,
roice,

Tllli UELIEVEU'S 8UKFI0IKJJCY.

For ever singing as tlicy shine,

' The hand tliat made us is Divine.' "

And what a contemplation does this open to us of the
majesty and power of God! Who can understand it?
The planets are kept in their orbits, and the seasons
continually alternate. Old Ocean dashes himself upon
tiie shore, and every day finds " hitherto " written upon
the sand, and the nuid surge respects it. The earth
yields her increase ; vegetable life is evolved ; circula-
don takes place tliroughout the animal system ; man
walks and lives, and all these diversified operations are
produced at one and the same moment, perpetuated
from one moment to another by the simple word of
God. Extend your conceptions still further ; take hold
of the far-reaching discoveries of astronomy. Glance
at the numberless suns and systems that are scattered
in the broad field of immensity, and remember (for
there is no Scripture again.st it, and probabilities are
strongly in favor of the opinion), that they are all in-
habited by dependent creatures somewhat like our-
selves. Glance at the almost infinite variety of exist-
ences with which we are acquainted— whether we walk
the earth, or cleave the air, or swim the sea— connect
with all these the Scriptural announcement that these
are but parts of his ways, and how little a portion is
known of them; and then how thought shrinks from
the aggregate ! how the brain recoils from the contem-
plation of the sum! and we may well finish the quota-
tion, and say, "The thunder of his power, who ci^.n

74 TIM BEUCTEII'S SCmClBKCV.

„n,lc«lan<l!" All onr rcasomng. upon tl.o subject
B rvo to demonstrate ...at man l.J scarel,n,« ea„.
"otiind out God. Could you, with the sw.ftncs, o a
:lea.n, dart yourselves Leyond tUe hunt, oi U.
known ereation, and for a,es upon ages -'"™jO
pl|.m,uago in inlhdte spaee, you would ncver-»l.o u.
';,;p tutt t.,o,.gl,t! it is too largo for '-■":-';,;'
to reaeh a place where God is not, never light upon a
; t where'thi. glorious Being is not cssent.al y a,a
iniluentially present. The whole untverse .s one ..«
Iwory "benevolent art, over every departmet. o
which the Deity presides-a sanctuary, every pa. t «1
Zhichthe Divinity inl,abi,s_a -de, whose cre^,.
rence is unfathomed, and whose every section is fillc.l
with God. lint I stop here just for a moment, to k-

and colossal power, he can go home, singing-

«' This all-suffieicnt God is ours,
Our Fatlicr, ftiid our love."

.■ii'tru

Our sufficiency is of God.

2. Tl.en, secondly, and chiefly, he i^ sufficient >^^
.reservation and for the perj>etuUy of tl. Gospel pla,
in the salvation and uUimate happ^ness of every .^.
.ulual heliever. Christianity is not to be v-ved by u
n.trely as a moral system; that .ere to place it o a
level with the speculations of Confucius, and Sociate .
and others. It is something more, it is a course ot

Divine (
ethical i
biuidlo
ai^cncy i
AVc obs^
to prod
hearers,
luiman
know ;
stances,
Tliey c£
blc, tht
Christii
mcnse :
single
either
lawless
then t!
read o
when
strains
died a
orator
spell :
begins
aflair i
memo
truth,
Banctil

NCY.

THE DIXIE VEb's SUFFICIENCY.

upon tho subject
by searcbing cau-
tbe swiftness of a
tbo limits of the
ages coutiiiuo your
lid never— wbo can
!• us — never be uble
never ligbt upon a
not essentially and
miverse ia one vast
jvery department ot
tuary, every part of
cle, wbose circuinfe-
very section is filled
"or a moiucnt, to rc-
tbrougb tbe beart of
libition of boundless
e, singing-

is ours,
Bve."

be is sufRcient/or ih
ty of tlie, Gospel plan,
ppincss of every indi-
ot to be viewed by us
•were to place it on a
mfucius, and Socrates,
ore, it is a course of

Divine operations. "VVe are not to regard it as a mere
ethical statement of doctrine made known to us by a
bundle of books ; • we must remember tbo Divine
agency always, by which it is conducted and inspired.
Wc observed before, that no mere man has the power
to produce an abiding change upon tho hearts of his
hearers. Human eloquence is a mighty thing, I know ;
human reason is a persuasive and powerful thing, I
know ; under certain favorable conjunctures of circum-
stances, they have sometimes achieved mighty results.
They can shame a Herod, they can make a Felix trem-
ble, they can almost persuade an Agrippa to become a
Christian, but they can do no more. I know that im-
mense multitudes have been swayed by the iiower of a
single tongue. Tlie passions have become excited,
either to madness or to sympathy, either to deeds of
lawless aggression, or to deeds of higb emprise; but
then there is only a transient mastery obtained. We
read of a harp in tbo classical fables of old, which,
when the winds swept it, was said to discourse sweet
strains ; but then, unhappily, tbe breeze and the music
died away together. So it is with the triumpb of tho
orator : the moment tbe voice of the speaker ceases tho
spell is broken, the charm is dissipated; reflection
begins to remonstrate against excitement, and the wlude
aflair is forgotten, or comes upon tho soul only as the
memory of some pleasant song. Nay, truth, celestial
truth, can produce no abiding change. Pardon and
sanctification are not the neceesary consequences of

TlIK UKI.IKVKk'b BUKFICIKNCV.

btatements uf ductrino. Scripturo cannot produce
thuui ; the truth nmy appear in all its cogency and in
all its power l)c-loro tl.o iu'ukI— it may appear ho ck-ar
as to extort an acquiescence in what it propounds; but
it ifl uninlluential ; it hicks ener-y, and it hieks a hcU'-
appliant power. It nuiy i-nli-hten-tl.at is its province
—it can never t^iive. Witliout the !>j.irit it is useless;
let the Spirit auiuiate it, and it is the power of God.
Hearers who sit under the ministrations of the trntl'.
without the Spirit may ho likened to a man standing
upon the brow of a hill which commands the pros{.eit
of an c.vtensive landscape. The varied beauties of flood
and of lield are before him ; nature is clad in her richest
livery, there is every variety calculated to interest and
to inspire ; ru^'geil rocks frown as if they would keq.
sentinel over the sleeping valley ; the earth yields her
increase, the crystal streamlet leaps merrily along, iiu-
pressi(jns of the beautiful are everywhere visible, there
is just one drawback to the picture, and that one draw-
back is, that the man who stands upon the summit of
the hill is blind. That is precisely the state of the case
in reference to truth in the Bible. It is there in all its
grandeur, but the man Las no eyes to see it. Let the
Spirit come and take the scales away and shred off the
spiritual ophthalmia, and he sees the landscape stretch-
in" before him in all its hues of beauty, and his soul is
elevated and he feels the full rapture of the pccne.
Prevailing truth, therefore, is not of the letter but of
the Spirit, for " the letter killcth, but the Spirit givetb

life." Th

(Mlt of tlu

I know tl

(if jiroced

tiling ; n

another

Aiiod hii

nicnso d

tliCBC tal

said, iu '

just as 1

as if he

most sti

no force

of. On

an Enjj

may wl

trato tl

monarc

will. '

and th

will of

us, tha

uvcryt'

But h

[KNCV.

•0 cannot produce
I its cogency and in
luiiy appear ho clear
t it propounds; Imt
, and it lacks a hcIi-
— tliat id its province
i S]iirit it is useless;
i the power of God.
[rations of the trntl:
i to a man Btandiug
umands tlie pros{ieit
iried beauties of flood

is clad in lier riclicut
dated to interest ami
ft if tliey would keq)

the earth yields hel-
ps merrily along, im-
[•ywherc visible, there
■e, and that one draw-
i upon the summit of
f the state of the case
. It is there in all its
yea to see it. Let the
,vay and shred off the
the landscape stretch-
beauty, and liis soul is
rapture of the scene,
it of the letter but of
, but tlie Spirit giveth

Tine nia-iivKit's si iiiiikn<'V.

1 (

life" This Spirit it is that is promiscl for the carrying
out of the (iospel, and it fh.Mvfnre must be HU-cossfnl.
I know there is a '^o.d deal nf ditlimlty ub,.ut Ins n.ode
„r procedure : (iod's word n.ust be fninihd, that .s one

U.i„.; man's freedom must be n.aintained, that is
another thing. Man is a moral .g.nt ; (Jod has en-
dued him ^vith talents and invcM..<l hl.n w.th an nn-
„onse delegation of power, and in the ,listribut,on ot
those talents and in the exercise of that power, he has
,aid, in effect. Let him alone ; he may do as he l.sts-
just as ho lists, lie is allowed, for the present, to act
1 if he had uo superior, but for all he is holden hnally
most strictly responsible. Trnt no coercion is applied,
no force is ever in any concivable instance made u>e
of One of our most eloquent senators onco said, that
an Englishman's cottage was his castle. The winds
,nay whistle through every crevice, and the rams pene-
n-ate through every cranny, but into that cottage the
nionarch of England daro not enter against the cotters
will That is just the state of the case between Chrisl
and tho human soul. lie has such a respect for tlio
will of that immortal tenant that he has placed within
U9, that ho TviU never force an enU-ance. He will do
everything else ; he will knock at the door-

"lle now Htiind.s luiorUing at Uic door
Of pvcry sinnci'^ lieuit;
The wonit need keep liim out no more,
Nor force him to depart."

But he will not force an entrance. Often, disappoint-.-d

TllK lUXir.Vi;i:'ri SLtHClKNCY.

u„.l grieved J>o tun., uwuy tVoMvtln... vvhu,n he Nvoul
1,,, ,,,,. .nriehod una .uvcd, .uyin^;, "^ ^; ^v. I no.
,,„„e unto mo, that yo may huvc life." Bn m.tw..h-

Btuu.linj; all thU fo.nvidal.U, ..ppusilion, the (.ospol, a.
,1,, ,anuni.tmti.m of (-,..!•. tn.th, hacked by the cm.rjrv

.,,■ ll.c lluly Hi.irit, shall Ihmlly trinmi.h. ^\ o can c-un-
e.ivo of no .nen.ics nu.n- Huhtk-, nunv rnalii^nunt, n.mv
powerful than those which it has already encountena
and vanquished. Men.ury cheer, u. onward an<l hu.
honetoBnnlo. (iod is ^vi.h the Clospcl ; that is tW
great .eerct. She does not trust in her inherent energy;
Bho does nottrn>t in hcrcxquisiteadaptationton.au.
every necessity and peril ; she does not tri.st in the u.
dcfatii^ahle and self-denying lahors of her uun.sten.;
God is wilh the (lospel, an.l under his K""Umcc sh.
ehall nuvreh triumphantly forward, snhjugaln.g even
en.Mm-, acquiring a h.dgMuent in every heart, reelann-
i„. the world unto lu.velf, until she has consunmuitca
l,cn- victory in the ecstasies of a renovafe.l universe, ami
in that deep and B..lenni mo.nent ^vhen the Son, wl..
gave his life a ransom for all, shall see of the travail ot
ins s,>ul and ho abundantly Batislled. O brethren! what
a condbrtable doctrine is this I If this Gospel is to be
conducted from step to step in its progressive march t(|
conquest, do you not see how it guarantees mdivulual
salvation and individual defence by the way ?

Where art thou in the chapel to-night -(would that
1 could discover thee!) timid a.id discouraged believer
who art afraid of the fatigues of climbing tho Il.H

DitlicuK

nt sight

I.ii't \\\>

U of Cit

tliy helj

ity^ (i

lasting

Life bIi

thee in

in tho

liivc of

or nah

(lurk ci

"Nay,

ors."^

;n;Ncv.

loso whom lie would
vinj;, "Yo will ii'it
)itu." But notwitli-

tioll, tllO CSoSpol, ll^

KickiHl liy the ciHTfry

iiini>li. W^' '■»" '■""■
miu iiiiiligiuuit, lllnlV
iih-eady oncouutonMl
\is ouwivnl and bid-
Gospel; that is tlu'
. her inherent energy ;
;c adaptation to nniuV
cs not triibt in the iu-
i,is of her uiinisterii;
iW'V hiB ^iiidanoc blu'
■d, Bid>jng!aing even
fvery heart, reeluini-
she has consuumiatcHl
Miovated universe, and
it when the Sun, who
11 see of the travail of
icd. hrethrcn ! what
If this Gospel is to bo
s progressive niareh to
truarantees individual
hy the way 'i
d to-night '(woidd that
id discouraged helievir
, of cliinbiDg tho Hill

THIC IlKI.IKVKu'rt KT I- KUIKNCY.

DitUeulty, and crouchest back abashed and cowonnK
,t M.d,t of tho UonB in front of the I'alace UeantduW

Urt'^p thy head, be not disn.uraged ; thy sntUeK.ney
i, of God. AVbatfri-htenstheeJ AtUietb.n < God ifl
tbvhelp. l>er>eeution? (iod is thy erown. IVrph'-v
lU-i (Jodisthyeounseh Deaths (i.d is tby ever-
i;,i„^,lite. ()nlytrn.t in (Iod, and all shall-, welh
,.Ue shall glide thee into death, and death shall ghdo
,h,e into heaven. "Who (ashs the exulting A post e,
in tho 8th of Romans), who shall separate ns fron, the
Uvc of Christ ? Shall tribulath.n, or distress, or faunne,
.„. nakedness, or peril, or swor.ir That is rather u
dnrk catalogue; hut nnvrk how tho Apostle answers ,t:
''\av,ln all these things we are more than conquer.
0,''' It is not a drawn hatUe; night does not come
on to separate the co.nbatants; we have not to send u
herald, as they used to do in ancient warlare, to ask
ponnissiun to hury our dead ; we do not come Ironi the
Hold with the dishonored banner trailing .n the dust,
and the annor hacked, scarred with the wounds wo
have gotten in tho light. "Wo arc nu.re than eon-
,„oro;." Oh, the royalty of that language -" more
than conquerors, through hin. that hath loved us lor
I am persuaded that neither death"-he puts that hrst,
because it generally threatens believers most-" neitha.-
life," which is really a more solemn and a more penl-
onJ thing than death, rightly considered-" neither
death, nor life, nor angels"-if any of them should for-
get themselves bo far as to come and preach another

8(1 THE BEUEVKb'8 BUJFIOIBNUV.

r„«ccl Md try to deceive tl,e very eleet-" neilte
Gospel MQ iiy ..\,\,owh tlie captain

principalities nor powers -loi alt .oi „ l

of ,l>e 1.0S.8 of darkness may plant all 1. s .nos' "
niaaWe battery against ns, he cannot ^•-''^ "-
,,„ta oi- strong salvation, nor snacl, a. y » '.,
sheen from the fold of the great fchcphe.d. i.o, •>
i,: s presenf-thongh those things P--/^
ehule famine, nakedness, pcnl, and -•» j" "°'
things to eonrC'-thongl,, ^^y^^^Jl^Z

!;-:i^rnoif::;;-?-^^^^^^

fraereatnre.thatisaf..,e.— e,;;;;;;^;
tion upon the universe of God— Keep
!;,„ c'reatnre shall he ahle to separate 3™^ ,"■
, ,r r,„l ivhhh is in Clnist Jcsns our Uri. "I>.

r^e::::::: the meirahie ..--;-f -^- ;

the love of Godl H.e hlessedness of an approvn,g
cons ienee, the hleBsed,.ess of increasing knowledge
r hre e ness of con.plcte victory, the bicssednes" o
Gospel peace, the hlessedness of perfect love 1 1 d
Tuol wh t that sea of glass tneans ahottt whrch «

course with joy. It is a bta b
lows; not a breath ever, by any P««f ^^^^^'/^^^J' ,^
lid on thi« sea of glass, as ou a wide and wavel »
tean^tbe believer stands forever, chanting eternally

BUFFICIKNUY.

the very elect— " neither
-for although the captain
ay plant all his most for-
he cannot shake the pall-
or snatch away a solitary
great Shepherd. "No,nov
060 things present may iii-
,eril, and sword-" "o, nor

in those things to conic,
of diabolism never dreamed
—nothing but sin, and that
onl excrescence, a vile abor-
od— keep clear of that— and
c to separate you from the
Jhrist Jesus our Lord." Oh,
ble blessedness of being in
.Icsseduess of an approving
58 of increasing knowledge,
te victory, the blessedness of
Iness of perfect love I 1 do

glass nreans about which we
do not pretend to an intimate
yptic disclosures; but I know

mage the deep, serene, repos-
ic spirit that has finished n3
Bca of glass; it hath no bil-
, by any possibility, ruffles it.
s, as on a wide and waveless
ds forever, chanting eternally

THK BELIICVKli 8 SUKFICIKNCY.

the Bong of Moses and the Lamb, Oh, lift up your
heads and come buck to Zion with singing, and let this
be the burden of yuur song :

■' Let doubt, then, and danger my progress oppose.
They only niiike heaven more sweet at the clo.50 ;
Afflictions may damp me, they cannot destroy,
For one glimpse of His love turns them all into joy.
And come joy, or come sorrow, whate'cr may befall.
One hour with my God will make up tor it all."

It were very little use our talking in this strain to
you, if you were to find out, after all, that it was some
aristocratical blessing, some privilege reserved only for
tlie peerage of the faithful, for the favored ones in the
family of the King of kings.

II. I come, secondly, to notice tuk AUTiioErrv avuicu

liKLIKVKKS HAVE TO EXPECT TUI8 SUFFICIENCY FOK THEM-
SELVES. And, very briefly, we have a right to expect
It, because it is found and promised in the Bible.
Every believer, the moment he becomes a believer,
becomes an inheritor of the promises. The Bible is
not my Bible, nor your Bible— it is our Bible. It is
common property ; it belongs to the universal Church.
Wo have no sympathy, of course, with those who
would monopolize this sacred treasure, and keep this
light of the Gospel burning, and that, Avith a precious
dimness, only in the study of the priest, or fettered, as
it used to be, like a curiosity, to the altars of the
Church. Thank God, these days of darkness are for-

TUK bvxievkr's sufficikxcv,

ever gone by. And yet there is a Cluircli, somewhere,
pvufotsedly Christian, which denies to its members tlie
light and comfort of the Clhle, in direct opposition t.
the command of Ilim who has said to every oiu'.
"Search the Scriptures," thus most absohitely exalting
itself against all that is called God. Oli, most funl
corruption ! Deprive us of the Bible ! As well forhiJ
us to gaze on the jewelled sky, or to be fanned by tlio
winged and searching air. Deprive us of the Eihlc I
Call it sin for us to look at the sun, and to bask in the
blaze of his enlivening beams. The very same hand
which lannched yon orb upon his ocean of light, and
bade him shine upon the evil and upon the good, lias
sent this orb into the world, and has sent it on purpose
that it may be a lamp to all our feet and a lantern to
all our paths. We devoutly thank the good Spirit of
the Lord, that he put into the minds of our forefathers
to protest against so flugrant and monstrous an im-
piety ; and, thank God, we are Protest-ants still. We
cannot afford to be thus robbed of our birthright, to
be thus cheated out of our inheritance, to be this
basely swindled out of the possession of the Book of
God. It is the legacy of the Apostles' labor ; the bul-
wark of the confessors' faith ; the purchase of the mar-
tyrs' blood. Thank God for the Bible. Let us prove
that we love it, by drawing from it all the comfort and
blessing, and guidance, and warning, which its heaven-
inspired pages are calculated to afford. Well, we liavo
a right, each of us— if we are in Christ— we have a

FFICIK.NCV.

9 a Cluircli, somewhere,
nies to its inembors tlio
, in direct opposition to
las s:\id to every om\
nost absolutely exulting
l1 God, Oh, most fonl
I Bible ! As well forLiil
, or to be fanned by tlio
eprivo ua of the Eihkl
! snn, and to bask in the I
5. The very same hand ]
L his ocean of light, and

and upon the good, has
k1 has sent it on purpose
our feet and a lantern to
thank the good Spirit of

minds of our forefathers
; and monstrous an im-
e Protest-ants still. "\\'e
bed of our birthright, to

inheritance, to be thus
ossession of the Book of

Apostles' labor ; the hul-

the purchase of the mar-
the Bible, Let ns prove
om it all the comfort and
'arning, which its heaven-
to afford. "Well, we lm\e
ire in Christ — -we have :a

THE BKLIEVKKS SLKFICIKNCY.

right to expect this sufficiency, because it is promised
in the Bible. "We gather it from the declarations of
Scripture, Listen to them, they are yours : " Thus
saith the Lord who created thee, O Jacob, who formed
thee, Israel, Fear not, I have redeemed thee, I have
called thee by thy name" What a beautiful thought
that is ! Just get the meaning and beauty out of it.
Ilow many thousands of believers, thousands upon
tliousands of believers, have tlicre been in the Avurld
from the beginning of its history until now — thousands
in the patriarchal pgcs Avho looked through the glass,
and who saw, dimly, the streak of the morning in the
distance, and, even with that streak of light, were glad
—thousands, in the prophetical times, wlio disccrne<I it
in the brightness of a nearer vision — thousands who
basked in its full-orbed lustre, when Clirist came into
the world — thousands upon thousands, since that time,
who have washed their robes and made them white in
the blood of tbe Lamb — thousands, who are now upon
the earth, working out their salvation with fear and
trembling — thousands upon thousands that shall come
into the Church in the time of its millennial glory,
when the gates of it shall not be shut day nor night,
because the porter shall have no cha'^jce of shutting
tlicm, the people crowd in so fast. Now, get all that
mass of believers, past, present, and future, a company
that no man can number ; and to cp.cii of them (tO(1
comes in this promise, and says, ''I have called thee
by thy name, I know all about thee* — that is, I have

gj. TUK BEUKVKIl'6 8UFKICIKNCY.

not a merely vague, indefinite knowlcdgo of tl.ec; as
an Individual believer I know thy na.ne, I eould su.glo
tl.ee out of nVdllons, I could tell the .vorld all thy boU-
eitudes, and all thy apprehensions, and all thy hopes,
and all thv sorrows-" I have ealled thee by thy name
Oh, precious promise ! Take it to your hearts. ■ 1
have called thee by thy name ; thou art mine ; when
thou passest through the waters I will be with thcc;
and through the rivers"-deeper than the waters-
u they shall not overflow thee. When thou walkcst
throu-h the fire thou shalt not be burned, neither shall
the fl'unes kindle upon thee." Linton again: "Ihc
Lord God is a sun and a shield"-light and protection;
that nearly embraces all our wants-" ho will give
.n-ace and glory." Is there anything left out ? And
if there arc any of you so perversely clever and so mis-
chievouslv ingenious in multiplying arguments in favor
of your own despair, that you can conceive of some
rare and precious blessing that is not wrapped up
either in grace or glory-" No good thing wiU he
withhold from thorn that walk uprightly." "Fear
not for I am with thee ; be not dismayed, for I am
thy' God." "Cast all thy care"-"Xay," the rebel
heart says, "there is some little of it I must bcur
myself; something that has reference to the heart's
bitterness, that it alone knoweth ; or to the heurt'^s
deep, dark sorrow, with which no stranger intermed-
dies-tliat I must bear myself." " Cast all thy care
upon me, for I care for thee." What ! distrustful still ]

ling

gi'ai

CIKNCY.

TIIK BEUEVEli 8 6CFFICIENCY.

.owletlge of thee; as
name, I coiild single
lie world all tliy soli-
s, and all thy hopes,
[id tUce by tliy name."'
to your hearts. '' 1
thou art mine ; when

I will be with thee ;
21- than the waters—

"Wlien thou walkcst
e bnrncd, neither shall

Listen again: "The
-light and protection ;
wants— "ho Avill give
ytliing left out i And
•sely clever and so mis-
ring arguments in favor

can conceive of some
at is not wrapped np
ro good thing wiU he
,1k uprightly." "Fear
not dismayed, for I am
i.c"_''iS"ay," the rebel
ttle of it I must beur
L-eference to the heart's
i-eth ; or to the heart's
li no stranger intermed-
f." " Cast all thy care

What ! distrustful still 2

Can you not take God at his word ? Hark I he con-
descends to expostulate with you upon your unbelief:
"Why saycst thou, O Jacob, and speakest, O Israel,
my way is hid from the Lord" — how often have you
said that in the time of your sorrow ! you know you
have — " my way is hid from the Lord, my judgment
is passed over from my God. JIast thou not kncwn,
hast thou not heard, tliat the everlasting God, the
Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not,
neither is Avcary? There is no searching of his under-
standing. He giveth power to the faint." lie does
not merely take his swoon away and leave him weakly,
he makes him strong. " lie giveth power to the faint;
and to them that have no miglit he incrcaseth strength."
Are jon still dissatisfied ?

The God who knows liuman nature, knows how much
better a teacher example is than precept, and so, spark-
ling upon the pages of his holy truth, he has left us
many bright instances of his interposition on behalf of
his saints. Abraham rises early in the morning, goes a
three days' journey with the son of his love, intending
all the while, with set and resolute purpose, to offer him
in sacrifice to the God of heaven. Arrived at die place
of their destination, all the-ritual preparations are made:
the altar is prepared ; the willing victim, unresisting, is
hound ; the sacrificial knife is lifted ; no escape, then,
surely ! But man's extremity is God's opportunity, and
the ram is caught in the thicket by its horns, and God's
grace is sufficient — none too much — but sufficient still.

gg TUE believer's bufficikncy.

The children of Israel are brought to the borders cf the
r d S a, hotly pursued by the ilo.cr of the Egypt ^

t nc 1.01 witors erect themselves on

nltor them at pleasure, ine^^al(-lb <.i«^^

„a«lnvav. G«V8 grace w Bufccicnt still. .

[it ,-no.hcar.c<, patriot OB he .'a. .ct .« .vork to
robniW tl.o dilajmlatcd vails of Jenisalci.. But ho
l^lLJ ot his s„cc«s„,-s, in „o„blo,-s in.es-
6 atwiat aiul Tobiith canio to light against the .■ovkmon^
O^tl so hard hesct.that they had ,„ uork .. h
woid In the one hand and trowel in the other; God
;:,e™ sufficient, and the -«""-- -;™; J
fn maiostv upon the site of the rnms of the first.
mTt n^t satisfied yet! Snrely that must he a.
To invineihle nnheliet that these instances w.U not
trcome. ma. is it you say? " Oh, hnt these are
an iistances taken from the Old Testament tunes; the
:" ot miracles is over now-we are not no^v o exp t
s«ch interpositions onhehalf o( God's people." Wl
!t s try again. Come out of the light of Senpttire a
WlTinto .1:= light of common life. Tread softly, as you
enter that houst, for it is a house of mourning ; a la^
Wy surround the bedside of a dying ra™t; that

CY.

Tllli BKLIKVKk's SUFFIOlliNCy.

he borders cf the
. of the Egyptian
ti in the rear ', the
.accessible hills of
L and on the left,
no possible chanee
• rrravitation when
■ho made them can
;rect themselves on
1 is their triumphal

still. Kehemiah,
•as, set to work to
enisalem. But ho
in troublous times ;
rainst the workmen ;

had to work with
in the other ; God's
d Jerusalem rose up

ruins of the first.
J that must be an
se instances will not

" Oh, but these are
estament times ; the
•e not now to expect
od's people." Well,

litrht of Scripture a

Tread softly, as you
)f mourning ; a largo
I dying parent; that

parent is a Christian, and knowing in whom he has
believed, he is not afraid to die. Hut he has a large
family, and the tliouglit tliat he hliall Ifuvu tliem witli-
out a protector, the thought of the forcible disruption
of all social ties, presses upon his spirit, and when you
look at him, there is a shade of sadness upon liis coun-
tenance ; but you gaze awhile, and you see that sadne>s
chased away by a smile. \Vhat has wrought the
change ? What ? Why, a ministering angel whispered
to him: "Leave thy fatherless children; 1 will preserve
them alive." He hails the promisor. Faith cries out :
"It is he, it is he; my God is present here." He
enjoys rapt and high communion with celestial visit-
ants, and thus that chamber of death becomes the gate
of heaven. You pass by that house next morning : the
half-closed shutter and the drawn l»lind tell you that ho
was and is not. You enter— the widow is sitting in sor-
row ; the first deep pang is scarcely over. The tones
of her husband's voice, with which she has so long been
familiar, rush, in all the freshness of yesterday, upon
her soul, and she is worn with weeping. But she, too,
is a Christian, and she flies to the Christian's refuge, and
her eye traces those comfortable words : " Thy Maker
is thine husband — the Lord of Hosts is his name." It is
a dark hour ; it has been a dai-k day ; and the darkness
has gathered, and settled, and deepened as the day wore
on, and now at eventide there is soft and brilliant light,
because her sufficiency is of God. You pass by the
house again when abort a week has elapsed. Tlie last

THE BKLIKVKU'B flUFKIClKNCY.

88 —

,,„y„f ..or l...V,a,.l >;"• '^ ,^:;' ,.„„„.l„„cos-, l,o
lie has diod in somcwl.at •"':; , ,,it,, „eMug

,vaH U,o sole dependence o^^^^,^ ealcnU.e
Lead and tlnobbing "■»■■'•";",,„„, ^„gi™ ,„ fall
„,„,.t her fnluro Buta.slenco « 1 ea g ^^^^^^^^ ^

„„, ,„,, U.r..e she g.- ;j^"^ U the Influenee.
friend ; he i» a «.Be man, one upon _ ^^^

of the Holy spirit have ^ ^^^^^^ .-Ihave
,„ the testimony of a long hte « ex ^^^_^ ,„^

teen yonng, and now ""»"'>', ,,,„,,.. Dash-

righteons forsaUen - ■ J^,, ^ ,», „„ .trnggle.
tag away the tears that l.ao ^^^ ^^^,,^^,

a'd labors on, and .eels fta « ongh ^^ __^ ^_^^^____
l,„ur, her suffieleney .s b dl of God. ^^^^.^^.^.

„on ease ; I have .rot drawn l^B^'J J j „„„,a

,.„ee of an >-^;,f- ^Se^and hid you lUten to
gotatornatryof o« «u^ _^ ^.^^ ^,^

one, as with a glad nea j,_^^ .

.erted sinner's an^^^^^^^^lU angl Is turned
thou wast angry ^-th "«'' ° ,, ti,o„ I could Wd

"™^;.trtre::"or:;other,hutfa^...
rdir^rhrts^i.— ^^^^^^^

„1 ,vas hrought low, f ^l™;^,, „e eould
even from the gate, of death. _^^^ _^^,^^,_

point you to a thrrd, and say . V

gon
hc:b

iCY.

,eral bell, ^v-tli its
,uuding like tl.c
,9 tolled ; tlievery
Voin her embrace,
circinnstaiiccs •, be
J', and, with acbiug
down to calculate
icart begins to fail
:pair, Bbe consults a
vboni the influences
long; and be gives
experience: "Ibave
I bave not seen tbe
rging bread." Dasb-
U ber, sbe struggles
igli it is ber darkest
Tbat is no uncom-
ely upon tbe extrava-
briugitout. I could
ind bid you listen to
ree, be sings tbe con-
fd, I will praise tbee ;
tbine anger is turned
ne." Then I could bid
•anotber, but faltering
ng from recent illness:
,lped me ; be saved mo
' And tbeu we could
"Tbis poor man cried,

THE iniLIKVKK 8 BLFl'ICIKNCY. 89

and the Lord heard him, and wivcd him out of all his
troubles." And whore are the duinnatorj' (clauses that
forbid you to jtartuke of thcsi; hlesriings ? What statute
of limitations is there that bars you from tlic enjoyment
of this great and gracious heritage ? Brethren, are you
in Christ? Tlicn all that belongs to the covenant is
yours. Yours is the i)resent heritage, yours is the future
recompense of reward.

" Our sufficiency is of God." Is it so ? Then you
will be sustained in trial ; you won't succumb to its
power ; it won't over-master you ; you will regard it as
sent of God, intended to work lessons and changes of
some providential discipline within you. You will bo
grateful for it ; you will know that when it conies,
although it looks harsh and repulsive outside, you have
entertained angels unawares, you will find after it has
gone away. Oh! we learn many lessons when the
bead is low, that we do not learn in the heyday of pros-
perity and blessing. Just as it is in the natural world:
you know when the sun is set, the stars como out in
their placid beauty, and

.III ' -.1 : ' " Darkness shows US worlds of light
, , . ' \Vc uovcr saw by day ;"

and we should never have known they were there if the
darkness had not come. So in the night of God's pro-
vidential dispensations, the stars of the great promises
come shining out, broad and bright upon the soul ; and
we rejoice in their light and go on our way rejoicing.

,„, TIIK nKUKVKIt'« ttDKl'IClKNUy.

Or clrin.'i..-' tl.c li^'uro, in the glml Hunu.u-r-timc, wlu.,

u.et into the c-ountry-we j,'o cut .nt<. the t.nck ^^..ods

t a : k una.- the'treo. in .luulow, and their Ipn. a.

"cM-h.c.o above ub, and the leave, .re green am gk..,,

J> thiek above that we ean.n.t .-o the sky tl>rongh ;

d^ velbrget that there is another woria, and onr

^art are revelUng in all pleasure and all blessedness

of this But vhcn the blasts of Nvinter come and scatter

the leaves down, then the light of heaven comes m

between, and we remen.ber that hero wo have no

continuing city, and arc urged to seek one that is to

ome. Oh! L hold of God's sufficiency then and

go bravely to the n.eeting of trial, and you wdl find

that trial,

" God's alclicmistoUl,
Purges off tlio (Iroaa and mold
And leaves us rich with gems and gold."

Is your sufficiency of Godi Then it will animate you
to duty Listen to this confession of weakness : Uuto
xne, who am less than the least of all saints, is this grace
given" Less than the least! What a pressure of weak-
ness there must have been upon that soul I Listen to
this exulting consciousness of power: "I can do all
things through Christ that .trengthcneth me Ihey
are the antipodes of sentiment-are they not? Weak-
ness the most helpless and feeble-power the most
exultant and proud; and yet that confession of weak-
ness, and that exulting consciousness oi power, were the

ing

SCY.

iiniiuT-timc, wliim
, Budi of U8 as call
II tlio t'.iiok woods
uid their ItnuK-lart
I green and gloesy,
) tho sky through ;
lier world, iind our
md all blosscdncss
iv come and scatter
' heaven comes in
here wo have no
5cek on© that is to
ifficicncy tlien, and
, and you will find

ind gold."

it will animate you
)f weakness: "Unto
11 saints, is this grace
t a pressure of weak-
liat soul I Listen to
A-er: "I can do all
thcnctli me." They
•e they not? Weak-
le — power the most
■u confession of weak-
)6B 01 power, were the

TIIK IIKI.IKVKU'S KL'KHCIKNCV,

utterance of the same lips, and the cxprosblon of the
o>ii)erienco of tliu Kuine individual. Wliut made the
litlorcnce? Jn the one ease he reliiMl iip.m liis own ro-
sonrces; in tlie other, lie took hold of the sunioiency of
(Jod. Take hold of the sufHciem-y of (iod, and notiiin:,^
will he aide to resist you; you will p. forward strong
in the Lord, and in the power of his might, overcoming
mn and overcoming evil in its every form, and planting
for yourself and for your Master an heritage of blessing
in this world and in that wliich is to come.

" Our sufficiency is of God." Is there a poor strag-
gling sinner that is rejoicing to think that the minister
has forgotten him, and that while lie has been endeavor-
ing to bring out all the heart of the text— privilege and
promise exceeding great and precious, for the benefit of
believers— no word of warning can bo extracted out of
it for those that are yet ungodl-y? Wait a little.
What is the lesson you are to learn from the sub-
ject? Just this: that there is a sufliciency in God to
punish. All his attributes must be equally perfect.
He must bo just, as well as the free and generous
justifier of him that believeth in Jesus. Oh, I beseech
you, tempt not against yourselves that wrath which
needs only to be kindled in order to burn unto the
lowest hell. "Kiss the Son, lest he bo angry, and
yo perish from the way." Perish out of the way-
just as men fling away any obstacle or hindrance that
interrupts their progress, so shall God fling the wicked
out of his way. "Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and

TIIK liKIll VK.k'ri St'KHt'lKNOY.

yo peribli from the wny, wluii li'm wrath !.■* kindled h\it
ft little. l>iit II little -oil, it, will need hut. ii little kin-
dling tn doom yim to the )ierdition of iieli. I'ri'thren,
you iiei'il not iierish : there is a hutlicieney, thaidv < od !
there is a suHieii'uey in Christ lo save. Our hulliciiiii y
ifi o!' <J()d. And with this promise that I lling forth
into 1:' . 'uidst of yon, and pray that God v, uuld hind it
as a Bju:!; «<f pv.pot enchantment on your rouIh, I close
my words to-nigiU • " Wherefore ho is ai.lo to save unto
the uttermost"— to the uttermost of human gtiilt— to
the uttermost of human life — to the uttermost of human
time. Jifay God save your souls, for the Rcdt.c 'lor's
sake!

i;iKNl!Y.

wrath !.■* kindled \n\i
K'l'd but !i little kill-
It ot" JH'll. IJl-l'tll!''!!,

tliciciicy, tliaidv (-od!
ive. Our HuUicltiHv
iso that I ilin;i forth
at God V, uuld biud it
)n you! bouIb, I close
10 is ai^lo to eavc unto
of human giiilt — to
uttermost of human
, for the Rcdt.c.'!)Or'B

'>.

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CIHM/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques

"-4

vm9^'-'

■1< »

I'M.

"Tl
we fail
walkin
inaDifc
science

ongn
fore I
have

VI •f'li j;

,(!''; !;!!!'-. •;

III.

[mm,-*

THE MISSION OF TUE PULPIT.

" Therefore seeing we have this ministry, as we have received mercy,
we faint not ; but have renounced the hidden tilings of dishonesty, not
walliiog in craftiness, nor handling tiio word of God deceitfully ; but by
manifestation of the truth commending ourselves to every man's con-
science in the sight of God."— 2 Cor. iv. 1,2.

This is the Apostle's recorded judgment as to the
mission of the ministry which he had received of the
Lord Jesus, and the duties of which he discharged with
such singular fidelity and zeal. In the preceding chap-
ter, he magnifies its superiority alike of glory and of
suhstantial usefulness over the dispensation of the law,
and then in a few weighty words separates himself en-
tirely from all false teachers, and establishes himself,
upon the ground of holy character and exalted oflace, as
Heaven's high remembrancer among the nations — a
true witness for God amidst a dark and alien world.
He takes care, at the very outset, to assure those to
whom he speaks, that he is of the same nature, and
originally of the same sinfulness, as themselves : " There-
fore seeing that we have received this ministry, as wo
have received mercy, we faint not." We are not — as if

94 THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT.

he had eaid-a distinct order of beings: there is no
natural superiority of character >vhich might make the
minister proud, or ^vhich might make the hearer distant,
and callous, and nnsympathizing. ^Vo once were sui-
ners; ve have yet the memory of bondage; we have
received mercy, and are anxious to tell to others the
tidings that have led to our redemption. As we have
received mercy wc faint not, but have renounced the
hidden things of dishonesty, the secret immorahties oi
pagan priests; not walking in craftiness, not retammg
our hold upon the consciences of men by deceivableness
of unrighteousness, and by juggling, lying wonders ; not
handlin- the Word of God deceitfully, not preachmg an
adulterated truth or a flexible Gospel ; not pliant to the
prejiulices, or silent to the vices of those who hear us;
"but, by manifestation of the truth, commending our-
selves to every man's conscience in the sight of God."

All this, affirmed by the Apostle of the mmistry of
olden time, may be aflirmed of the ministry of recon-
ciliation now. That ministry, wickedly maligned on
the one hand, imperfectly fulfilled on the other hand,
has yet its mission to the world. The unrepealed com-
mand still stands upon the statute-book: «Go ye mto
all the world, and preach the Gospel unto every crea-
ture." And it is a prayer often earnestly and passion-
ately uttered by those on whom its obligations have
fallen, that, repudiating artifice and idleness, they may,
by manifestation of tlie truth, commend themselves to
every man's conscience in the sight of God. I purpose,

Go(
the
the
tho
I

NKS

age

beg

reli

acti

ascf

recf

8om

and

wor

Chr

this

orig

min

who

time

origi

the<

I nei

bytl

the (

far s

trav<

; PULPIT.

f beings: there is no
rhich niiglit make the
lake the hearer distant,
^ AVo once were sin-

of bondage ; we have
8 to tell to others the
emption. As Ave have
lit have renounced the
I secret immoralities of
iraftinesB, not retaining
' men by deceivableness
iug, lying wonders ; not
itfuUy, not preaching an
ospcl ; not pliant to the
3 of those who hear us ;
truth, commending our-
} in the sight of God."
ostle of the ministry of
f the ministry of recon-

wickedly maligned on
lied on the other hand,
[. The unrepealed com-
itute-book : " Go ye into
Gospel unto every crea-
n earnestly and passion-
om its obligations have
3 and idleness, they may,
commend themselves to
sight of God. I purpose,

THK MISSION OF TIIK PULPIT.

God helping me, briefly to notice from those words— in
the lirst place, the business of the ministry ; secondly,
the instrumentality which it employs; and thirdly, tlio
thought that hallows it.

I. The ministry — this is my first position— has a busi-
NK88 wmi THK WORLD. It is tho Divinely-ai>pointcd
agency for the communication of God's will to man.
As a Divine institution it advanced its claims in the
beginning, and in no solitary instance have they been
relinquished since. Tliis Divine authorization and en-
actment are still in force. The Bible says, when Clirist
ascended up on high, «he led captivity captive, and
received gifts for men ; and lie gave some apostles, and
some prophets, and some evangelists, and some pastors
and teachers, for the perfecting of the saints, for tho
work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of
Christ." There might be something special, perhaps, in
this original commission, but the principle of its Divine
origin is evidently presented as the principle of the
ministry itself; for St. Paul, who was not then called,
who speaks of himself afterward as one born out of due
time, earnestly and anxiously vindicates the Heavenly
origin of his apostleship : « I certify you, brethren, that
the Gospel which was preached of me is not of men ; for
I neither received it of men, neither was I taught it but
by the revelation of Jesus Christ." This it is which is
the elevation of the Christian ministry, which exalts it
far above human resources and human authority. It
travels on in its own majestic strength — Heaven-inspired

THK MISSION OF THE PtlLPIT.

and heaven-sustained. Moreover, the same passage
which tells us of the institution of the ministry an-
nounces its duration, and tells of the period when it
Bhall be no longer needed-till we all eome m the umty
of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God,
unto a perfect man-unto the measure of the stature of
the fullness of Christ.

This period, thus divinely appointed for the cessation
of the ministry, has obviously not yet arrived. The
world sees but little yet of millennial glory ; there is
yet an alienated heart in its debased and rebel tnbes;
there is nothing in the pursuits which it follows, nor in
the natural impulses which move it, to incite to holy
aim or to induce spiritual living. It has no self-sugges-
tive memory of God. It has passions as blind and
powerful, and a will as perverse as ev(^r. Death is in
the midst of it, and, though the corpse may be some-
times embalmed with spices, or tricked out with flowers,
or carried 'neath obsequious plumes to burial, the chill
ie at its heart, the breath of the plague is in the tainted
air, and there is need, strong and solemn need, for the
anointed witness who may stand between the living and
the dead, that the plague may be stayed. There are
some, I know, who tell us that the mission of the pulpit
is fulfilled. They acknowledge that, in the eariier
ages, in the times of comparative darkness, when men
spelt out the truth in syllables, it did a noble work ;
but the world has outgrown it, they tell us; men need
neither its light nor its warning ; the all-powerful Press

sh
th>
an
Ai
isn
yic
mi
ng(

die
son
ha\
Bil
dut
the

gOS]

filw
hid(
afFei
min
witl
mou
man
natu
imd(
uttei
grav
with
othe:

ptTLPir.

•, tho Barao passage
of the ministry an-
■ the period when it
all come, in the unity
5 of the Son of God,
sure of tho stature of

nted for the cessation
lot yet arrived. The
snnial glory ; there is
sed and rebel tribes;
hich it follows, nor in
3 it, to incite to holy

It has no self-sugges-

passions as blind and

as evm-. Death is in

corpse may be some-
picked out with flowers,
mes to burial, the chill
plague is in the tainted
d solemn need, for the
between the living and
be stayed. There are
tie mission of the pulpit
;e that, in the earlier
ve darkness, when men
3, it did a noble work ;
they tell us ; men need
; the all-powerful Press

THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT.

shall direct them, the educational instituto shall assist
them in tl.cir upward progress, tlicy sl.all move onward
a.id upward under the guidance of tho common mind
And, while this is tlie cry of infidelity and indifferent-
ism, there are some among ourselves wlio have partially
yielded to tho clamor. They liavc deplored (as who
must not?) tho apparent ineflectivcness of existing-
agencies, the feebleness of the efforts for evangelical
aggression, and, in tlieir eagerness to conciliate preju-
dice and disarm opposition, they have compromised
somewhat tlie high tone of Christian teaching, and
have studiously avoided tlie very terminology of the
Bible, so that the great truths of God's will and man's
duty, of Christ's atonement and the sinner's pardon, of
the Spirit's work and the believer's growtli-tlioso old
gospels whose sound is always music and whose sight is
always joy, arc hardly to be recognized, as they are
hidden beneath profound thought, or veiled within
affected phrase. But the Divine institution of the
ministry is not to bo thus superseded. It has to do
witli eternity, and the matters of eternity are para-
mount. It deals and would grapple with the inner
man ; it has to do with the deepest emotions of the
nature, with those instincts of internal truths which
underiie all systems, from which a man can never
utterly divorce himself, and which God himself has
graven on the soul. So far as they work in harmony
with its high purpose, it will hail the helpings of all
other teaching; but God hatli given it the monaichv.

THE MISSION OF TlIK rULVIT.

and it daro not abdicate its throne. Tlio opposition
that you sometimes meet vrith of worldliness and mii-
delit y to the pulpit, if you analyze it, you tind that
though it may have derived from the oppressions ol
priestcraft in bygone ages somewhat of plausibility and
force, it is but one phase of the method in %vhich the
human heart discovers its rooted and apparently uncon-
querable enmity to God. Hence it is one of the worst
symptoms of the disease which the ministry has been
calculated and instituted to remove. The teaching of
the political agitator, of the philanthropic idealist of
the benevolent instructor-why are they so popular?
Tlie teaching of the religious minister-why is it so
repulsive to the world? Mainly from this one fact,
that the one reproves, and the other exalts human
nature-the one ignores, the other insists upon the doc-
trine of the Fall. You will find, in all the schemes for
the uplifting of man not grounded on the Bible, the
exaltation of his nature as it is, lofty ideas of perfect-
ibility, assertions that it needs neither revelation nor
heavenly influence to guide it in the way of truth.
Tims the Gospel is presented only as one among many
svstems which all men may accept or reject at pleasure.
Its restraints are deemed impertinence, its reproofs
unnatural bondage. The talk of such teaching is fre-
quently of rights, seldom of .duties. They are compli-
mented on their manliness who ought to be humbled
for their sin, and, by insidious panderings to their pride,
they are exhorted to atheism, Felf-reliance, or habitual

dii

wil

an(

hui

tol

oth^

and

Gil(

dee)

nor

its I

sees

arch

exce

heav

lioly

activ

this I

God'j

again

ought

tlie id

institi

Bcatte

i-rir.

e. Tlio opposition
orklliness and infi-
I it, you find that
the oppressions ol"

of plausibility and
Bthod in which tho
I apparently uncon-

is one of tho worst
I ministry has been
e. The teaching of
nthropic idealist, of

they so popular?
lister — why is it so
from this one fact,
other exalts human
Insists upon the doc-

1 all tho schemes for
d on the Bible, the
:,fty ideas of perfect-
either revelation nor
I the way of truth,
as one among many

or reject at pleasure,
•tinence, its reproofs
such teaching is fre-
'8. They are comi^li-
•ught to be humbled
derings to their pride,
f-reliance, or habitual

TUK MISSION OF TUK I'L-LPIT. 09

disregard of God. Both kinds of teaching, the worldly
and tl,e rel.g.ous alike, aim at tho uphTting of tho
nah.re. Eut then they look at it from difrere^t stand-
points, and, of course, they apply to it different treat-
ment. Tho one is an endeavor to exalt the nature
without God; tlie other would take liold of his stren^tl.
and work to the praise of his glory. The one regards
humanity as it once was before sin had warped it, ablo
to tower and triumph in its own unaided strength-tho
other sees it decrepit or ailing, tho whole head sick
and tho whole heart faint; and yet, by the balm of
Gilead, to bo restored to pristine vigor. Tlie one,
deemmg that no confusion has come upon its language
nor shame upon its many builders, would have it pile up'
Its Babel towers until they smite the skies-the other
sees the towers in ruins, splintered shaft and crumbling
arch bearing witness that they were oneo beautiful
exceedingly, and that by the grace and skill of the
heavenly Architect, they may grow up again into a
holy temple in tho Lord.

It is absolutely necessary, in this age of manifold
achvities and of spiritual pride, that there should be
this ever-speaking witness of man's feebleness and of
Gods strength. And, however much the opposition
against tho ministry may tell, and it does tell, and it
ought to tell, against the vapid and frivolous, against
tho Idle and msmcere, it is a powerful motive for the
mstitution of tho ministry itself; just as the blast that
scatters the acoms, roots the oak the more firmly iu

1(^0 TUK MISSION UK -niK I'tu'ir.

.rcoorJing angel r..«i«..« '^ "' f '' X^J .".H-. -
long a, there ,. one .my ^^^^^ ^ j^^_^..

Uaek a,lvomry, » l""!-' ^ '' "" "^ „,,,;„,t ..raver of

■-^■'rr^™:ii:ln; tr-n^Mn.o-
IramWo measure, m »» naoi j „fle„tlon, l.o

.nIneBse, for ^°' • ''^" 7„,,^ ,„„ l,i« wing., Laving

-f;:tr:eona,y,.u.a..»o.^
■-"»- ^!":„";aTrrjr:e:;o on.e\v,.re.

„„, . -nse,e„eo tot B, a ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^ .^^^ _j_^^^

"-Frf: tt::.- ;--«'■

condnct. Oallitunai, ;,!« rtio most important

_a facnlty, an emotmn, a law-.t »'«>»'' »■ ,,,

principle in oar -'-•''-"^XXeeognitfon
into «=nsible eom,eet,on w- M^d - * =^j„^

„f, .„e moral »-— . . .^fm^ for bis own daily
»T""°\°!uir"ndrts various aspeets it answers
:^:r.:r.;:artsofaiudieialtr— ^^
tlfe bar at wl,iel> the sinner pleads; it prefers the accn.

8!
01

it
nr
re
br
til
lis
th:

id(

en(

mil

agi

nn'^

tur

moi

and

or 1

stifl

bra^

in b

man

crim

crira

It hi

;o die, so long as tlio
ilt, so long I'- hninm
uiilicca< d truths, so
ncr tcinptcd by tlio
ninistry have ft busi-

eariiust prayer of
at they may in some

and with dauntlce.*
ith l>uro affection, bo
ions angel whom tho
>on his wings, having
unto every nation and

8INES8 OF TUK MINISTRY

OF mi:n. Every man
iral sense of the diflc-
a princii.le which docs

1 the true and false in
nful and damaging in
It and wrong in Iniman
, analyze it as you may
-it is the most important
io by it we are brought
md sensible recognitiou
oA. It has been defined

a man for his own daily
rarious aspects it answers

judicial tribunal. It is
jads; it prefers the accu.

THK MISSMN OK TIIK 1 ILni'.

101

sation of transgression ; it records the orlmc ; it hoars
witness to gnilt oi- innocence; and as a in.I^.,. it nerinits
or condemns. Tl.n.s tukinir r„<:;u\y,uu-o ul'uun-nl action.
It 18 the faculty which r..Iat..s us 1., tlu- oIIk-p world •
and by it God, retribution, eternity, :uv uuuh al.i.lin.r
realities to tho soul. As by the ,.hysieal sense, wu u.e
brought into connection with tl>c ,,hysical world, and
tlio blue heavens over it, and the -reen earth aro.nul
us, are recognized in their relation to ourselves; so l)y
this moral sense of conscience we sec ourselves, in the
light of immortality, responsible creatures, and gain
ideas of duty and of God. How mighty is the influ-
ence which this power lias wielded, and yet continues
to wield in tlio worM f There are many that have trie.!
to be rid of it, but tlicre is a manhood at its heart whicli
murder cannot kill. There arc many that have rebelled
against its authority, l)ut they have acknowledged its
might notwithstanding, and it has rendered them dis-
turbed and uneasy in their sin. There are multitudes
more thafhave fretted against its wholesome warnings;
and often when— because it has warned them of danger
or threatened them with penalty— they have tried^to
stifle and entomb it, it has risen up suddenly into a
braver resurrection, and pealed forth its remonstrances
in bolder port and louder tone. But for its restraint,
many of tho world's reputable ones would have become
criminal. But for its restraint, many of the world's
criminals would have become more audaciously bad.
It has spoken, and the felon, fleeing when no man pnr-

109

'ilii; MlaaMN oK I Hi: I'l II'H'.

Bucd iilm, bus lieen cliasi'd by u falling leaf. It luw
HiM)k(>ii, and the lmrj,'lar lias I'iiU'il bfliiiul his niUHk,
Htarlk'tl at his own footfall. It liaH KiMikiii, and the
Coward assasHin luus hct-n uitchIimI in his jtnrposc, nnd
liart imnsc'd irresuluto cro ho has ntnick thu blow. Its
vimlictivu and sevoro uiibruiding after the win has been
Committed has often lashed tho sinner into agony, and
secured an interval of comparative morality by pre-
ventinsr sin for a season. It has been the one witness
for CJod an\id tho traitor facidlies — single but undis-
mayed, solitary but true. "When tho understanding
and the memory, and tho will and the niloctions, had
all consented to the enticements of evil, conseienco has
stood llrm, and tlie man eoidd never sin with eoiufort
imtil ho hud druggrd it into dospenito repose. It has
been the one di.s;H;iiticiit power among the faculties,
like a moody gui'st among a company of iVantit; revel-
lers, whom they cotdd neither conciliate nor expel.
When God's judgments have been abroad in tho world,
and men would fain have resolved thoni into ordinary
occurrences or natural phenomena, conscience has
refused to bo satisfied with such delusive interpreta-
tions, and, without a prophet's inspiration, has itself
deciphered the handwriting as it blazed upon tho wall.
It has forced the criminal oftentimes to deliver himself
up to justice, preferring tho public shame of the trial
and tho gallows-trco to the deeper hell of a conscience
aroused and angry. Yes, and it has constrained from
the dying sinner n. testimony to the God he has insulted,

I 1.1'ir.

tiling leaf. It luis

hehiml liiti inuHk,

iH f])(>kei), and the

II Ills |)urp(mc, niid
ruck tliu blow. It8
cr the hill has l)i;c'ti
c r into agony, and
! inomlity l)y pre-
en the one witness
-fliiiglc l»ut undis-

tlic understanding
the ailections, Lad
!vil, conscience has
r sin with comfort
ito ropoBc. It has
long the faculties,
\\y of frantl(! revcl-
iiciliatu nor expel,
broad in the world,
honi into ordinary
a, conscience has
lelusivo interprcta-
piration, has itself
zed npon the wall,
i to deliver himself
shame of the trial
ell of a conscience
,3 constrained from
rod he has insulted,

'iMi. MlsmoN OK nil; ri i.Pir.

103

given M-lieii the phadows of perdition were already
darkening upon the branded brow.

Oh, brethren, that nmst bo a mighty jioM'cr which
has wrought and which is M'orkiiig thus I And it has
wrought and is working in you ; anu, as kucIi, mo
acknowledge it. We can dc8i>iso no man who has a
conscience. Although with meanness and with sin lie
may largely overlay it, wo recognize tho m.ijcstic and
insulted guest, and are silent and respectful as in the
presence of a fallen king. "Wo seo the family-likeness,
although intemperance has bloated tho features and has
dulled the sparkle of the eye. Tliero is a spirit in man,
and the iiispinifion of the Almighty giveth him under-
standing. Xow it is with this faculty in man that tho
minister has mainly to do. His work, his business, is to
bring out the world's conscience in its answer to tho
truths of Divine revelation. Eeeogiiizing in it some-
thing which can respond to its own duty, tho minister-
ing witness without will constantly ajjpcal to tho
answering witness within. Ilegarding all other facul-
ties, however separately noticeable, as ^venues oidy to
the conscience, he will aim constantly at the ears of tho
inner man. To come short of this is to come short of
duty. To fail in this is to fail in a work which our
Master has given us to do. We should form but a very
unworthy estimate of our own high calling if we were
to aim at the subjugation of any eubordiuate faculty,
and, that accomplished, sit down as if our work wero
done. The minister may appeal to tho intellect — of

104

TllK MISSION OF THK PULPIT.

course he moy. AH thanks to him if he clear away dif-
ficulties from the path of the bewildered. All thanks
to him if he present trnth in its symmetry of system,
and in all the grand and rounded harmony of its beau-
tiful design. But ho must press through the outworks
to the cittdel, through the intellect to the conscience,
that the understanding, no longer darkened, may appre-
hend the truth, and that the apprehended truth may
make the conscience free. The imagination may be
charmed by the truth, which is itself beauty; but only
that it may hold the mirror up to conscience, to see its
own portrait there photographed directly from on high,
and which, with such marvellous fidelity, gives all the
scars upon the countenance, and every spot and wrinkle
upon the brow. The passi uis maybe roused by the
truth, which is the highest power— not that people may
Bwoon away under terrific apprehensions of wrath, or
only or mainly that people may escape hell and enter
heaven, but that the conscience may resolve on a holy
life, that there may result the comely outgrowth of a
transfonned and spiritual character, and that through
the impending fear of perdition and the promised water
of life, a man may issue into the wealthy place of con-
fidence in God, assimilation to his image, that attach-
ment to right which would cleave fast to it, even were
its cause hopeless and its friends dead, and that perfect
love which casteth out all possible fear.

It is not the intellect, then, but the conscience— not
the imagination, but the conscience— not the passions,

OF THK rULl'IT.

IS to him if lie clear away dif-
tlic bewildered. All tlianlvs

I ill its symmetry of system,
•oundcd harmony of its bcaii-
;t press through the outworl^s
B intellect to the conscience,
) longer darkened, may appre-

the apprehended truth may
e. The imagination may he
lich is itself beauty ; but only
■or up to conscience, to see its
rraphed directly from on high,
irvellons fidelity, gives all the
cc, and every spot and wrinkle
\ssi)ns maybe roused by the
5t power— not that people may
fie apprehensions of wrath, or
)lo may escape hell and enter
jscience may resolve on a holy
dt the comely outgrowth of a
al character, and that through
irdition and the promised water

into the wealthy place of con-
tion to his image, that attach-
luld cleave fast to it, even were
3 friends dead, and that perfect

II possible fear.

t, then, but the conscience— not
3 conscience — not the passions,

Tllli MISSION OK Tllli PL'LPir.

105

but the conscience— to which the minister is to com-
meud himself in the sight of God. If lie speaks to the
intellect, the philosopher c-au i-ivul ]r 'u. If he speaks to
the imagination, his brightest ellbrts pale before the
dazzling images of the poet's brain. If he speaks to the
passions, the political demagogue can do it better. But,
iu his power over the conscience, ho has a power that
no man shares. An autocrat undisputed, a czar of many
lands, ho can wield the sceptre over the master-faculty
of man. Oh 1 very solcinu is the responsibility whicli
tlius rests upon the religious teacher. To have the
master-faculty of man Avithin his grasp; to witness of
truths that arc unpopular and repulsive ; to reprove of
sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment ; to do this
with his own heart frail and erring, with the moral con-
flict battling in liis own spirit the while. "Who is
snflicient for these things V breaks often from the man-
liest heart in its seasons of depression and unrest. But
there is a comfort broad and strong, and I feel that com-
fort now supporting me. While pained by my own
imworthiness, and by the trifling of multitudes over
whom ministers weep and yearn— pained by the short-
sighted and self-complacent indifference of the church
and the world— pained by the thousand difficulties
which Satan always puts iu the way of the reception of
the truth as it is in Jesus ; I say there is a comfort of
which I cannot be deprived : that all the while there is

a mysterious something moving in you — in you all

barbing the faithful appeal, pointing the solemn warn-

106

THE MISSION OF THK PULPIT.

ing, Btriking the alarnra in the sinner's soul. There !
listen to that ! That belongs to thee. That heart so
callous and ungrateful-it is thine. Tliat sin that the
minister reproves— thou hast committed it. Tliat doom
80 full of agony and horror— thou art speeding to it.
How wilt thou edcape the damnation of hell ? Many a
time and oft, when the minister without has gone
eheafless to his home, and in tears has oflfered his
complaint, "Who hath believed our report?" the min-
ister within, by God's good grace, has been a successful
harvest-man, and gathered sheaves into the gamer; and
often when, to the eye of the human minister, there has
been no ripple on the waves, deep in the depths of the
soul have swelled the billows of the troubled sea ; and
in the keenest acknowledgment of the truth he was
endeavoring to impress, men's consciences have borne
him witness, their thoughts meanwhile accusing, or else
excusing one another.

Again, the great instrumentality which God has
empowered us to use is the truth. You will have no
difHculty in understanding what the Apostle means by
the truth, because he calls it "the word of grace," and
« our Gospel." The revelation of God in Christ, the
life and teaching and wondrous death of Jesus, was the
truth, alone adapted to the supply of every need, and
the rescue from every peril. The Apostle was no ordi-
nary man. "Well-read in the literature of the times,
observant of the tendencies and the inclinations of man,
he would be ready to acknowledge truth everywhere.

Uel

tlirov

fuller

treas

clrcu

conc(

truth

ward

God,

Divin

entire

Consc

overd

Theh

ter. '

fertile

air, n(

darkn(

until

broug]

the u]

came ^

truth t

richer

and wi

and in

Gospel

lished

•ULPIT.

mer's soul. There!
hce. That heart bo
. Tliat sin that the
itted it. Tliat doom
I art speeding to it.
)n of hell ? Many a
f without has gone
lars has oflEered his
ar report?" the min-
has heen a successful
into the gamer ; and
m minister, there has
) in the depths of the
10 troubled sea; and
of the truth he was
nsciences have borne
vhile accusing, or else

lity which God has
1. You will have no
the Apostle means by
e word of grace," and
)f God in Christ, the
eath of Jesus, was the
»ly of every need, and
Apostle was no ordi-
orature of the times,
le inclinations of man,
Ige truth everywhere.

THE MISSION OF TUE PDLPIT.

107

He knew that there had been truth in the world before.
He would see it in Pagan systems, gleaming faintly
tlirough encumbered darkness. Fragments of it had
fallen from philosophers in former times, and liad been
treasured up as wisdom. It had a somewhat healthy
circulation through the household impulses and ordinary
concerns of men. But it was all truth for the intellect,
truth for social life, truth for the manward, not the God-
ward relations of the soul. Tlio truth which told of
God, which haUowed all morality by the sanctions of
Divine law, which provided for the necessities of the
entire man, was seen but dimly in uncertain traditions.
Conscience was a slave. If it essayed to speak, it was
overdone by clamor, or hushed by interest into silence.
The higher rose the culture, the deeper sank the charac-
ter. The whole world seemed like one vast valley,
fertile and gay with flowers, but no motion in the dumb
air, not any song of bird or sound of rill ; the gross
darkness of the inner sepulchre was not so deadly still,
until there came down a breath from lieaven that
brought life upon its wings, and breathed that life into
the unconscious heaps of slain. Tlius, when Christ
came with his Gospel of purity and freedom, all other
truth seemed to borrow from it a clearer light and a
richer adaptation. Tlie ordinary instincts of right
and wrong were sharpened into a keener discernmert,
and invested with a more spiritual sensibility. Ti e
Gospel founded a grander morality ; the Gospel esta >-
lished a more chivalrous honor ; the Gospel shed oul i

108

TIIK MISSION OK T.IK rCLPlT.

,norc genial benevolence. AH the old ^y^t "is I
looked at man as a half-man ; only on one si o of ^
nature; that part of him that lay down to the cart .
The Gosrc'l took the .hole ronnd of his faeu ties, both
as lying toward earth and as rising toward heave..
Love to man-the ordinary, commonpkee plulantlu-opy
of everv day, the philanthropy that wings the teet ot
the good Samaritan, and that sends all the almsgivcrs
upon errands of mercy-love to man was not known m
its fullness, until the Gospel came. "Thou shalt love
thy neighbor" was a command of old, but then the
Jews first contracted the neighborhood, and then they
contracted the affection. The Jew's neighbor was not
the Samaritan, but one within his own exclusive pa c
and sphere. But when love to God came, like a queenly
mother leading out her daughter by the hand, then men
wondered at the rare and radiant beauty that had
escaped their notice bo long ; and when they loved God
first, then it was that from that master-love the streams
of love to man flowed forth in ceaseless and in generous
profusion. And the Gospel is just the same now. It is
the great inspiration of ordinary kindnesses, and of the
every-day and rippling happiness of life. It is the truth
for man; the tmth for man's every exigency, and tor
his very peril-blessing the body and saving the soul.
By the truth, then, which wo are to commend to every
man's conscience, we understand the truth as it is in
Jesu8-the truth which convinces of sin and humbles
under a sense of it ; the tmth which reveals atonement

otl

the

cor

sci(

whi

and

fori

hem

ver]

be,

Thir

ofQ

idolf

ever

histo

thof

of ira

in br

of int

.i-i^- ■ --j^WV

ci-riT.

e oUl systems bad
^on one side of liis
down to the eartli.
of his faculties, both
ing toward heaven.
)nplace philanthropy
it wings the feet of
Is all the almsgivers
an was not known in
"Thou sbalt love
of old, but then the
i-hood, and then they
v's neighbor was not
8 own exclusive pale
d came, like a queenly
by the hand, then men
ant beauty that had
when they loved God
naster-love the streams
iseless and in gencous
it the same now. It is
kindnesses, and of the
of life. It is the truth
very exigency, and for
y and saving the soul.
B to commend to every
1 the truth as it is in
es of sin and humbles
hich reveals atonement

THE MISSION OF THE P0LPIT. IQf)

and flashes pardon from it ; the truth which leads the
pardoned spirit upward to holiness and heaven"
2-e to bring that conscience and that truth into cI'
nect,o„ with each other; that is the great business Z

tt T "^^^^'^'^^ ^'^^«- ^" -^- that ti re :l;
b the bringing of the one into connection with the
other, there must be variety in all truth, suited to he

mw, for the sake of argument, we may take it that
there are three stages in which nearly the whole of «1
consciences of humanity are ranged : those whose en
.fences are slumbering, torpid, inert, lifeless; tZe

and diose whose consciences have passed through those
former stages, and are now peaceful, happy, and'at rel
1. J^irst ^^.r. are emte ccmscienc.es that havenoapprc
hcnnonof God~no spiritnal eensibaHy at all ifTl
very sad thought that this has been, and continu to

Think of r':v' ^'^ ''''' "''j'^"^^ ^' --^-d-

o^God f Vr ,^7^- «f Paganism, where the truth

Idols, fertile of cruelty, and its characters exemplifying

hist7 ' ^"' '^"^ "^^ '^^"^ ^^-"g'^ "'ive'rsa?

history; you ca„ see the track of passion in the light of

the flames winch it has kindled ; you can see the;ork3

^n rr T^ " '^'""^ *'^"S^'*' or.3oulptured

in bre thing marble; you can see the many inventions
of mtellect on every hand, but for conscience placed on

110

TUE MISSION OF TUE rULl'IT.

its rightful seat, and exerting its legitimate authority,
you look almost in vain. Even in Christian Ei^gland
there are multitudes of whom it may be said that God
is not in all their thoughts, to whom conscience is a dull
and drowsy monitor, who live on from day to day m
the disregard of plainest duties, and in habitual, harden-
ing sin. Are there not some here ? It may be yon go
to your place of worship, but to little purpose; you are
rarely missed from your accustomed scat, but you have
trifled with conscience until it rarely troubles you, and
when it docs, you pooh-pooh it as the incoherences of a
drunkard, or the ravings of some frantic madman.
Brethren, I do feel it a solemn duty to manifest God s
arousing truth to you. I appeal to the moral sense
within you. You are attentive to the truth ; the Word
is suffered to play around your understanding ; I want
it to go deeper. I accuse you fearlessly of heinous and
flagrant transgression, because you have not humbled
yourselves before Heaven; and God, in whose hands
your breath is, and whose are all your ways, you have
not glorified. I charge you with living to yourselves, or
that, going about to establish your own righteousness,
you have not submitted yourself to the righteousness of
God. I arraign yon as being guilty of base ingratitude,
inasmuch as when Christ was offered, the just for the
unjust, that he might bring you to God, you refused to
hearken. And you have trodden under foot the blood
of the covenant, and counted it an unholy thing. I
accuse some of you, moreover, of trying to secure im-

P'
Y

in<

sle

tht

thi

tru

bea

ter

woi

brij

disi

so f

by 1

oft

and

soul,

trab

your

Oh!

have

trutL

agair

;itimato authority,
Christian Eiigland
J be said that God
sonscience is a dull
■om day to day in
n habitual, harden-

It may be you go
c purpose ; you are
scat, but you have
y troubles you, and
incoherences of a
B frantic madman.
y to manifest God's
to the moral sense
lie truth ; the Word
Icrstanding ; I want
essly of heinous and

have not humbled
od, in -whose hands
rour ways, you have
ing to yourselves, or
• own righteousness,
the righteousness of
J of base ingratitude,
red, the just for the
) God, you refused to
under foot the blood
an unholy thing. I
trying to secure im-

THK MISSION OF TIIK rULI'JT. \\\

lou iavo ,o^„.,ed co„»cio„ce from i„ ll„,„,e; v„„ |,„vo
tncdto bnboit.o bo a ,„„.,ioij,a,or will, j., i„

,, '•''"""' "■• l''™^'"'' ; :■»>■ l»vo li„,i,c<I it. Be,-„ln,y t,

ma, men il ha» startled j„„, j.„„ ,,„„ ,„,|^j .^
eep, and you have done it on p„rp„.„ „,at y„„ „,•„,;
be more easUy and «,„ .„„ro e„„fo,.ab,y sin. B,"

trutb. Tbat very eonse.eneo wUeU you have insulted
W me witness that it is tbo truth which I now min s
ter before you. I warn you „f your d.,„ger. Ob. I
wodd not fear to shake you roughly if I^ould „1
^nng you ,„ a )<„«vledge of you.^lves. It is a sad and
d sastrous tb„„,,. ^, „„,.^ „.,^ ^^,__^ oonseieneos 1,' e
o fatally asleep that they n.ay never be roused exeep

^/tpCi::^"^-""''™"^"--^-^^-'^"^

2. Then then are mne whmc conmicncc, are aromed
ondwho are going about, it may be. in bitteruelt'
soul lou have seemed, perhaps, hard and impene-
trable, b„, there has been a terrible war in your IT
^o„re„„se,ence ha, been at work; it is .t ^ork now'
"h! I have a power over you from this fael-tbat I
^ave ^t an ally in your own bosom testityin. to L
tra h of the things I .peak before you. Yo'u may fet
.gamst that power, but you eannot rob me of it. y^n

113

TUK MI88ION OF THE PULPIT.

cannot get the barb out ; all your endeavors to extract
it only widen and deepen the wound. My brother, oh 1
let nie nianifcBt Christ's redeeming truth to thee.
Christ has died ; all thy wants may be supplied through
his wondrous death. Is thy heart eallous and nngrate-
fiil ? He has exalted the law and made it honorable.
Hast thou dishonored justice? Ho has satisfied its
claims. Hast thou violated law ? He has lifted up the
majesty of its equity. Is there in thy spirit unrest and
Btoi-m? Come to him; thy conscience is like the Gali
lean lake— it shall hear him, and there shall be a great
calm. Doth the curse brood over thee, and calamity
appal thy soul? Flee to his outstretched arms, and as
thou sobbest on his bosom hear his whispered comfort :
" There is, therefore, now no condemnation unto them
that are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh,
but after the Spirit." See the clouds disappear, the
tempest hath passed by, the storms rage no longer ; lift
up thy head, serene, peaceful, smiling, happy. Let us
hear thy experience: "In whom I have redemption
through his blood, even the forgiveness of sin, accord-
ing to tlie riches of his grace." •; .^

3. But some of you have got still further, and are
happy in the sense of the Redeemer's love. You are in
the fairest possible position for the true soul-growth day
by day. You rejoice in Christ Jesus now. You have
victory over the carnal mind now. All antagonistic
powers are made subject now. Conscience has resumed
its authority, and is sensitive at the approach of ill, ami

fee

crti

Eii

aM"

da^

ere

het

see;

hot

our

Go(

thai

mei

Aln

soul

tofi

havi

the

histi

the

not

The]

of h

:lvit.

ideavors to extract
. My brother, oh !
Iff truth to thee.
)e supplied through
allous and inigrate-
tnade it lionorabic.
[e has satisfied its
rie has lifted up the
liy spirit unrest and
ice is like the Gali
ere shall be a great

thee, and calamity
etched arms, and as

whispered comfort :
imnation unto them

not after the flesh,
ouds disappear, the

rage no longer ; lift
ing, happy. Let us

I have redemption
eness of sin, accord-

jtill further, and are
r'a love. You are in
true soul-growth day
sus now. You have
w. All antagonistic
Qscience has resumed
3 approach of ill, ami

TUK MISSION OF TUK I'LLPIT.

eager for the completed will of God. I rejoice to mani-
fest God's dlseipling, training, growing, con.fortin.^,
nourishing truth to you. Self is not the master-
pnne.plo within you now; you are not paralyzed by
craven fear. There is a good land and fair before you
Rise to the dignity of your heritage. What a future
awaits you I to bo day by day more like God, to have
day by day bright visions of the throne, day by day in-
creased power over sin, increased progress toward
heaven, increased fellowship with the Divine ; and then
when the tabernacle falls down there opens another
scene-angelic welcomes, the King in his beauty, and a
house not made with hands eternal in the heavens.

III. "By manifestation of the truth commending
ourselv<3 to every man's conscience in the sight of
God." In the eionT ov Gon. Ah I that is the thought
that hallows it. All our endeavors for the enlighten-
ment of the ignorant are under the felt inspection of
Almiglity God. His eye marks the effort; his voice,
"I know thy works," is constantly in-spoken to the
soul. It is necessary that we should feel this in order
to fit us for our duty. If we do not feel this we shall
have no courage. Depend upon it, the heroism which
the pulpit needs, which it never needed in this world's
history so much as it needs to-day— the heroism which
the pulpit needs, which the ministry must liave, will
not be wrought in the soul unless this thought be there.
There is so much to enslave a man— the consciousness
of his own unworthiness and weakness, in his best and

•niK MIriSION t)K IIIK I'UI.rlT.

holicBt moments; the love of approbation which, from
a natural in.-itinot, Bwells often into a sore temi tatu.n ;
the reh,ct.uu.c to give otVoncc lest the ministry should
bo blamed, the anxiety as to what men think of hnn
ami say of him-ohl how often have these thmge
checke<l the stern reproof or faithful warning, made
a preacher the slave instead of the monarch of Ins
congrei;ati..n, and, instead of the stern, strong, fearless
uttemncc of the prophet, made him stammer forth his
lispings with the hesitancy of a blushing child. De-
pend upon it. it is no light matter; it requires no com-
mon boldness to stand single-handed before the pride
of birth, and the pride of rank, and the pride of office,
and the pride of intellect, and the pride of money, to
rebuke their transgressions, to strip olf their false con-
fidence, and tear away their refuges of lies. But if a
man have it burned into his heart that he is speaking
in the sight of God, he will do it— yes, he will. God-
fear will banish man-fear. He will feel that for the
time the pulpit is his empire and the temple is his
throne, and, like another Baptist, he will thunder out
his denunciations against rich and poor together, with
his honest eyes straight flashing into theirs, "Except
ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish."

" In the sight of God." Give him that thought, and
he will be tender as well as brave ; he will look \ipon
his congregation as immortal, and will see in each one
before him (oh, that thought is overwhelming!) au off-
spring of the Divine, an heir of the Everlasting ; and

in
of

ne(

ten

der

ton,

Lik

a la

tati(

that

his (

just

hanc

het]

rage

are i

tliies

who

publi

no p

The 1

stran(

my b]

invita

not CO

ye thi

yottr<

UVIT.

bation which, from
I Boro temr tation ;
he miu'sfry should
men think of him
have these ih'xn^
fnl ■vvarnin'j, made
le monai'ch of his
ern, strong, fearless
I stammer forth his
ushing child. De-
it requires no com-
jd before the pride
1 the pride of office,
pride of money, to

olf their false cou-
18 of lies. But if a
that he is speaking
-yes, he will. God-
ill feel that for the
i the temple is his
lie will thunder out

poor together, with
into theirs, "Except
ih."

m that thought, and
I ; he will look \ipon
will see in each one
erwhelming!) au off-
;he Everlasting ; and

TIIK MI88ION OF 'niK I'UMTr. l]r

in ai. a.,,oct of it |,„ „„, ,,„„,,,, ^

to ...flncnoe .l,c,„ for e,e,ni,y. Thcro will bo no Z2
m». ,„ )„. ,„„o., ,I,oro will bo no soveri.y i„ ,,,. ZZ

1";, n ,, """ '""""''"« '''' "•"' '"""ng

L ko J«or , 1,0 will .catlo,- blcMing, r„„„d hi,„ ,,S

Ut,o„, „o,o w,ll bo no v.„i,^; for l,o will rcmombcr
th.. 1,0 „ b,,. th„ „„„„„, of .„oU,„,, ^

Ho w,ll be l,ko ono ebipwrockod .narinor who I as bnt
J.«t got „r„„ „ „ot, .„, i, ,,^„,„, "» '

he tbat ,, on the rock ta„„. „,„. „,„ ^■

rage, and „ angry, near. 01, 1 lo, „a realise «,a. Z
•re ... B.gb. of God, and we sl.all have larger ,yr.Z
U..c« for „.n, we shall have more of .ho apfri. of Z.
who can,e oat,ng and drinking, who was . .riend of
pubhcan, and ainnor.. TI,ore will bo no fieroe rohnko,
no pro,.d oxcl„«vi,n., „„ pharisaical arrogance then:
The aleepor w.ll not- be harshly chided; the remon- '
Stance of afr«tion will yearn over hi™, "My bXr
n.y brother I" and the tear will gather in' the eye „ Iho
.nv,tahon „ given, or the regret is breathed, " Ye will
not con,o nnto me that ye may have life;" "Come all

116

TIIK MIrirtlO.V (iK TIIK I'DI.riT.

"In tlio Hijrlit of (Jod." Tliiit will lu'lp m to pcr-
Bovcre. We hIihII 1>o coiirttunt as woll ns bravo and
ti'iidci-, if wt! ri-alizt! cniitimiaily tliat wo arc in the
hi'dit (»f (lo<l. ThoiiL'li ditlii'ultiL'rt multiply, this will
prevent ua from becomiuf? weary and laiiit in our
niindfi ; we hIiuU remeiid»er him who endured tho eon-
tradic'tion of muw.v» aj^aiiist himself; autl, thro\ijrh
Itervcrscnoss or obstinacy, whether men will bear or
whether men will forbear, wo shall labor on for tho
cause of Christ and for the good of souls. Wo shall
not be satisfied with good report, with cxtensivo popu-
larity, with decorous congregations, with attention set-
tled, and seriousness upon every countenance. Wo
shnll want souls. We shall press right away through
to the great end (»f restoring the supremacy of con-
8ci(Mi(.-e, and bringing the dist>rdered world back again
lo its allegiance to God. lliis is our life-work, and wo
arc doinglt day by day— unfaithfully, imperfectly, but
we arc doing it. Moral truth upon tho mind of man
is something like a flat stone in a churchyard, through
which there is a thoroughfare, and hundreds of patter-
ing feet go oyer it day after day. Familiarity with it
has weakened tho impression, and time has effaced tho
lettering. Ihit God has sent us with a friendly chisel
to bring it out again into sharpest, clearest, crispcst,
distinctest outline before the spirits of men. Tliis is
our life-work ; and wo are laboring on amid tho driving
Blc(^t and pelting rain ; jostled now and then by tho
rude and heedless passenger; fitfully looked at by

the
re^i
the
cut

on,

reu

uui

an<

oui

an(

Till

yoi

car

ha^

the

I 1

syl

ne\

son

cliii

nur

I si

Bpii

■DI.PIT.

vill lu'lp ufl to por-
woll as bravo ivnd
tlmt wo arc in tho
multiply, tliis will
»• niul i'aiiit in our
lio endured tho con-
isolf; and, thro\ij,'li
r men will boar or
ill labor on for tho
of Bouls. Wo shall
with extensive popu-
9, with attention set-
r countenance. Wo
\ rij^ht away through
u supremaey of con-
i-ed world back again
our lifo-work, and wo
'ully, imperfectly, but
)on tho mind of man
, churchyard, throngh
i hundreds of patter-
. Familiarity with it
I tiino has effaced tho
with a friendly chisel
jest, clearest, crispest,
irits of men. Tliis is
g on amid the driving
now and then by tho
fitfully looked at by

illK MISSION OF IIIK I'LLI'lr.

117

thoHo who lilt away to tho farm and tho mcrchandin( ;
regarded with n BO»t of contoiiiptuoiis admiration by
tIioH(! who adiiiiro our industry, wliiiu tliey pity our
cuthuHiasm. Patient, eurnerit workers, wo must labor
on, and wo intend to do it. God helping, tho miniblry
of reconciliation will contimio to bo proclaimed, within
reach of every man in this land, Sabbath after Sabbath,
universally, unto those who will come, without money
and without price. And everywhere wo shall luivo
our reward. I, for my part, cannot labor in vain.
What think you would sustain me under the pressure
of tho multiplied excitement aiul multi])lied sorrow
and labor, but the thought thut 1 cannot labor in vain i
Tho words I have just sj.okea have been lauiiclied into
your ears, and have lodged in your conscience, and I
cannot recall them. Siuiplc, well-known Bible truths
have gone into your conscience, an<l I cannot recall
them. But they shall como up some day. You and
I may never meet again until wo stand at tho judg-
ment-seat of God. They shall como up then— then—
and, verily, I shall have my reward. I shall have it
when some fair-haired child steps out to spell out the
syllables upon tho flat stone, and goes away with a
new purpose formed in his heart. I shall have it when
some weather-beaten man, bronzed with tho hues of
climates and shadofi of years, takes tho solemn warning,
numbers his days, and applies his heart unto wisdom.
I shall have it in the welcome given to my ascending
spirit by some whom I first taught, it may be un-

118

THE MISSION OF THE PULPIT.

wortliily, to swell the hosanna of praise, or to join

with holy sincerity in all the litanies of prayer. I

shall have it in the smile that wraps up all heaven in

itself, and in those tones of kindness which flood the

soul with ii.eff"ablc music-" Well done, thou good and

faithful servant ; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."

I leave with you and the Spirit— I dare not trust you

alone-^ho Word of his grace, praying that Ue who

alone can apply it, may give it life and power. ,

■ tlJ':

I .■*:^

[ON OF THE PULPIT.

hosanna of praise, or to join
all the litanies of i>raycr. I
lile that wraps up all heaven in
les of kindness which flood the
;ic— " Well done, thou good and
• thou into the joy of thy Lord."
the Spirit— I dare not trust you
lis grace, praying that lie who
y give it life and power.

■- ,;■ xn).

IV.

SOLICITUDE FOR TUE ARK OF GOD.

" And when he came, lo, Eli sat upon a seat by the wayside watching ;
for his heart trembled for the ark of God."— 1 Sam. iv. 13.

What news from the battle-field ?— for the Philistines
are out against Israel, and the Israelitish armies are
marshalled, and have gone forth unto the fight. A few
days ago a reverse befell them, but they have sent for a
fancied talisman, and they are marching now with the
ark of God in their midst, deeming that its presence in
their camp will assure victory to their side. There is
expectation in the streets of Shiloh, doubt and hope
alternating in the spirits of its townsmen ; for though
the ark is a tower of strength, yet their defeat has dis-
heartened them, and dark rumors, moreover, of the
Lord's kindled anger, and of sad prophecies alleged to
have been spoken, are rife among the people ; so that
many a glance is strained wistfully toward the plains
of Aphek, whence the couriers may bring tidings of the
war. There are quivering lips in the city, and cheeks
blanched with sudden fear ; for the tidings have come,
and they are tidings of disaster and of shame : the glory

119

120 BOLICITUDE FOR THE ABK OF UOD.

of Israel hath fallen upon its high places ; the shield of
the mv'hty hath been vilely cast away; thirty thousand
of the°pcople have fallen with a great slaughter; and
the sacred symbol of their faith itself has been carried
off in triumph by the worshippers of Ashtaroth and
Dagon. Loud is the wail of the widows, and terrible
the anguish of the remnant that are left, oppressed by
the national dishonor. But yonder, near the gate, there
iB one feeble old man, with silvered hair and sightless
eyes, before whom, as each mourner passes, he subdues
his sorrow into silence, as in the presence of grief that
is mightier than his own. It is Eli, the high priest of
God ; he hears the tumult, but is yet unconscious of its
cause. But now the messenger comes in hastily to
unfold his burden of lamentation and of weeping.
« And the man said unto Eli, I am he that cam© out of
the array, and I fled to-day out of the army. And he
said. What is there done, my son?" Oh, terrible are
the tidings that are now to come upon the heart of that
old man, like successive claps of thunder. "And the
messenger answered and said, Israel is fled before
the Philistines "—here the patriot mourns—" and there
hath been also a great slaughter among the people"—
here the spirit of the judge is stricken— " and thy two
sons also, Hophni and Phineas, are dead"— here the
father's heart bleeds. Strong must have been the
struggle of the spirit under the pressure of this cumu-
lative agony, but it bears nobly up. Ah, but there is a
heavier woe behind: "And the ark of God is taker.

ol
fr
lii
m
in

til

1j(

til

m
re
de
ha

th;

fe]
an

rai
br
By]
ph
th<
im

€

far
wi.
to

I OF UOD.

places ; the sliield of
way ; thirty thousand
^reat slaughter; and
iclf has been carried
TS of Ashtaroth and
widows, and terrible
ire left, oppressed by
r, near the gate, there
ed hair and sightless
ler passes, he subdues
presence of grief that
Hi, the high priest of
yet unconscious of its
■ comes in hastily to
ion and of weeping,
n he that came out of
f the army. And he
m ?" Oh, terrible are
upon the heart of that
r thunder. " And the

Israel is fled before
t mourns — " and there

among the people " —
;ricken — " and thy two
, are dead" — ^liere the

must have been the
pressure of this cumu-
np. Ah, but there is a
! ark of God is taker.

60LICITUDK FOK TUK AKK OF GOD.

121

And it came to jiass when he made mention of the ark
of God "—not till then, never till then—" that he fell
from off the seat backward by the side of the gate, and
liis nock brake, and he died." The graiul ok', uiau : lie
may liave been feeble in restraint and criminal in
indulgence, but there is niiijesty about this his closing
scene wLich redeems his errors and shrines him with
the good and true. The patriot could survive the dis-
lionor of his country ; the judge, though weei)ing sore,
could bo submissive under the slaughter of the people ;
the father, liia heart rent the while with remorseful
memories, could have upborne under the double be-
reavement: but the saint swooned away his life when
deeper affliction was narrated of the disaster that had
happened to the ark of God. " And it came to pass
that when he made mention of the ark of God tliat he
fell from off the seat backward by the side of the gate,
and liis neck brake, and he died."

Brethren, this is just the character, the tj'pe of cha-
racter, that we covet for the churches of to-day— men of
broad souls, large-hearted and kindly in their human
sympathy, bating not a jot in all earthly activities and
])hilanthropy, but reserving their highest solicitudes for
the cause and service of the Lord Jesus Christ. " An
impobsible combination," scoffers are ready to observe
" and unlovely even if it were possible. The narrow
fanaticism will contract the human affection ; the man
will be so absorbed in the possibilities of the shall-be as
to forget the interests of the now; he will live in a

122 SOLICITUDE FOR TIIK AUK OF GOD.

world of the ideal, and the life that now is, and that
preescs upon us bo incessantly on every side, will dege-
nerate into a brief history of dwarfed charities and
aimless being." Nay, surely not so, niy brother. That
love must ever be the kindliest, even on its human side,
which has tlie furthest and the most open vision. That
cannot be cither a small or a scanty affection which
takes eternity within its scope and range. The Christ-
ian, the more he realizes his Christianity, and embodies
it, becouK's of necessity pervaded by an affection,
bounded only by the limits of humanity.

•^vf

"Pure love to God its members find-
Pure love to every son of man."

And this love, which the thought of eternity thus makes
indestructible, is raised by the same thought above the
imperfections Avhich attach themselves to individual
character, so that it sees the broad stamp of humanity
everywhere, and discovers, even in the outcast and
trembling sinner, an heir of the Everlasting, an offspring
of the Divine.

And this, the perfection of character, is the character
which we covet for you. You will find very many
instances in Scripture in which, in words full, full to
overflowing, of the warmest human affection, regard
for the spiritual is discovered, not in ostentatious obtru-
sion, but in developments of incidental beauty, to be
the reigning passion of the soul. "Who can for a
moment doubt the strong human affection of the be-

Tl:

fle

lik

est

sol

pui

Hif

«E

the

Go(

Kec

fror

his

chic

crisi

bad

OF GOD.

lat now is, and tlmt
svcry side, Avill dcge-
varled charities and
», niy brother. That
m on its human side,
t open vision. That
anty afi'cction which
range. The Christ-
ianity, and embodies
jd by an affection,
lanity. ... ...

bers find — , , ; r

of man."

f eternity thus makes
le thought above the
iselves to individual
I stamp of humanity
in the outcast and
erlasting, an offspring

acter, is the character
will find very many
in words full, full to
nan affection, regard
in ostentatious obtru-
idental beauty, to be
ul. Who can for a
n affection of the be-

eoUCITCDE FOR TIIK AKK OF OOD.

123

loved disciple, who, loving at first, drank in a deeper
lov.ngness as lie lay upon the Master's bosom, and to
whom, as the fittest for such a mission, was comunttcd
the cliargo of that meek sufferer witli a sword in her
heart— the sad and saintly mother of our Lord ? Listen
to his salutation to Gaius tlie well-beloved • " I wish
above all things "-this is my chiefest and most fervent
desire-"! wish above all things that thou mayest
prosper and be in healtii, even as thy soul prospcreth »
This is the principal thing after all. Remember David
and all his afflictions. See the persecuted monarch
fleeing from his infuriated and bitter enemies, hunted
hke a hart upon the mountains, lodged, with small
estate and diminished train, in some fortress of En-edi or
m some cave of Adullam I Of wliat dreams he'in his
solitude? Wliat are the memories that charge his
waking hours ? Does ho sigh for the palace and the
purple, for the sceptre and the crown? N"o— Hark!
His royal harp, long silent, trembles again into melody!
"How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of Hosts '
My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth, for the courts of
the Lord : my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living
God." See him again when he is crossing the brook
Ivedron, when the hearts of his people have been stolen
from h.m by his vile and flattering son ; when he has lost
his crown and is in danger of losing his life ; what is his
chiefest anxiety in that time of adversity, and in that
crisis of peril ? « And tlie king said unto Zadok, carry
back the ark of God into the city. If I shall find favor

124

60LICITUDK FOK TUK AKK OF GOD.

in tlio eyes of the Lord he will bring me again, and
show xno both it and his habitation." As if he had
said, " The ark of God— all that is tender and all that is
sacred are in my history associated with the ark of God
—carry back the ark of God into the city. I am
hunted like a hurt upon my own moimtains ; I have
no longer a sceptre of authority ; I am going npon a
precarious expedition ; I know not what may become
of me. Carry back the ark. Don't let it share our
fortune ; don't let it bo exposed to insult and pillage,
and the chances of war. Carry back the ark carefnlly.
Whatever becomes of mc, carry back the ark of God
into the city ; though I wander in exile, lie down in
sorrow, and am at last buried in the stranger's grave."
Eut what need of multiplying examples ? It was his
religious home, the metropolis of faith, the place which
God's presence had hallowed, which was referred to
when the happy Israelite, rejoicing in recovered free-
dom, and remembering long years of bondage, struck
his harp and sang, " By the rivers of Babylon there we
sat down ; yea, we wept when we remembered Zion,"
And this, I repeat it, brethren, the perfection of charac-
ter, is the character we covet for you. As Christians
you are bound to cultivate it. It is the highest affec-
tion in heaven : " Tlie Lord loveth the gates of Zion
more than all the dwellings of Jacob." It is the high-
est affection of the incarnate Son : " Tlie zeal of thine
house hath eaten me up." It is the highest affection of
the Apostle, the highest style of man : " Neither count

C(
C(

&
til

P<
A

P<
fr^

ri'i
th
or
Tl
lie

of
mi

K OF GOD.

bring me again, and
tion." As ii he had
tender and all that is
1 with the ark of God
nto the city. I am
1 moimtains; I have
; I am going npon a
ot what may become
)on't let it Bhare our
to InBwlt and pillage,
>ack the ark carefnlly.
back the ark of God
in exile, lie down in
the Btranger's grave."
xiunples? It was his
faith, the place which
rhich was referred to
ing in recovered free-
irs of bondage, struck
s of Babylon there we
re remembered Zion,"
le perfection of charac-
)r yon. As Christians
t is the highest affec-
eth the gates of Zion
acob." It is the high-
i : " Tlie zeal of thine
he highest affection of
man : " Neither count

SOLICITDDE F(1H TIIK AKK OF GOD.

125

X my life dear unto myself, so that I might linish my
course with joy, and the ministry which I have re-
ceived of the Lord Jesus, to testily the Gospel of the
grace of God,"

Oh, that God would raise uj) amongst us Elis in our
spiritual Israel, who, with reverent and earnest solici-
tude, would have their hearts tremble for the ark of
God. His heart trembled for the ark of God, and
wherefore ? Because the ark of God was in peril. In
peril from its enemies— in greater peril from its friends.
And, brethren, the cause and kingdom of Christ, pure
religion and nndefiled before God and tlic Father, the
faith for which we are valiantly and constantly to con-
tend, is in this hazard to-day. It also is in peril : in
peril from its enemies; in greater, deeper, deadlier peril
from its friends.

These are the points which I will endeavor, briefly,
God helping me, to illustrate on the present occasion.

I. In the first place, tub akk of God is in peril from
n's FjpEMiEs. Tliere never was a period, perhaps, when
the ark of God was carried out into a hotter battle,
or was surrounded by fiercer elements of antagonism.
There is, for instance, idolati'y, holding six hundred mil-
lions of our race in thrall. Idolatry, which has suc-
ceeded in banishing from their perceptions all thought
of the true God— which holds all that vast world of
mind under the tyranny of the vilest passions, and
under the dark and sad eclipse both of intellectual and
spiritual knowledge.

120

Bnl.KlTUDK Knit 'UW. AUK OK OOD.

There is, again, l>nj>odun', reigning in Mohanmiedau
realms over one hnndred and forty niiUionB of Boula ;
imposture, uceonunodated with tlic most cx(inisite inge-
nuity to the prejudices of the population among which
it was to spread, complimenting Hoses to cajole the
Jew, speaking respoctfully of Jesus to seduce the nomi-
nal Christian, ottering a voluptuous heaven to tho
licentious Pagan, and gathering iu the indifierent by
the wholesale conversion of the sword-imposture thus
founded and perpetuated over some of the fairest pro-
vinces of the globe in foul and ferocious despotism until

There is, again, sujxrstinon, the corruption of Christi-
anity by Greek and papal admixtures, blinding the
world with the utter falsehood of half truths, dazzling
the senses and emasculating the understanding, traffick-
iug in sin as i i merchandise, and selling escape from
its'' penalties cheap. Imposture, under whose strange
system atheist and libertine, infidel and Jew, may
join hands together and with equal rights wear the
Bacred garments, and, in robes upon wliicli the cross is
broidered, may gather together to make war against the
Lamb. ' < iMim

There is, again, skcptichm, that cold and soulless
tbing, that mystery of iniquity, whicb doth already
work, chilling the ardor of the churcb and hardening
the unbelief of the world— skepticism, bribing intellect
to sustain it with sophistry, and genius to foster its
errore, and poetry to embalm them in song— skepticism,

til

nil
in.
1

»r

Pli

a r

nui

rioi

eer

tlie

eve

tliic

for

stro

shoi

tren

enla

spec

ters-

Chri

the 1

our E

THE 1
PROM

OK OOP.

Ill' iu Moliumiuodau
y millions of soula ;
most cx(iuisito inge-
ilutiou among wliich
Hoses to cajole the
to soduco tho nomi-
.0U8 licavcu to the
a the indifferent by
ord— imposture thns
le of the fairest pro-
cious despotism until

corruption of Christi-
ixturcs, blinding the

half truths*, dazzling
idcrstanding, traffick-
1 selling escape from
under -whose strange
ifidel and Jew, may
|ual rights wear the
pon which the cross is

make war against the

liat cold and soulless
, which doth already
churcli and hardening
icism, bribing intellect
d genius to foster its
tn in song — skepticism,

BOUcnxnic lou tiii: auk ok (jon.

127

that travels through the universe in search of IniUi
and beauty, that it may enfeeble tho one by its mi...iv-
".g^, and blight the comeliness of the other by its wimry
breath. ■^

All these, enemies of Christianity from tlie beginning,
and retaining tl,cir ancient hate against it, now are tl"
Ph.l.stmos of its spiritual field. They are not content,
as m former times, with holding their own ; they have
a resolute purpose of aggression. Tliey have habit, and
numbers, and prejudice on their side; they have war-
riors and a priesthood, zealous and valiant in their
Berv.ce. Tluy have no chivalry about them to restrain
them from any style of warfare. They smart under
nmltiplied defeats, and they know that in the heart of
every man in the world there are interests and sympa-
thies in their favor. There is reason, then, is thei-e not,
for that cry, "Men of Israel, help!" there is reason
strong and solemn reason, why the Elis of our Israel
should sit by the wayside, watching, for tlieir hearts
tremble for the ark of God. It is not necessary to
enlarge upon this point. I do not want to preach
specially to-night in reference to these extraneous mat-
ters—matters, 1 mean, extraneous to the Church of
Christ, which liinder tho progress of the work of God in
tho world. I want to come nearer home in discussing
our second point ;

n. Just as it was in the days of Israel, so it is now-
Tin: AEK OF God is IX stronger, deeper, DE.VDLIER PERIL

FROM ITS FRIENDS. Vainly might the Philistines have

128

gOLIOITUDK KOE TIIK AKK OK OOD.

fought, vainly might the foe have etrivcn, if there had
not been in the licart of the camp the springs of deep
and dcBtructivo evils, if the clioscn children of Israel
had not hecn traitors and unworthy of themsclvcB.
And there are, if you will only examine into the Bubject,
strange analogies subsisting between the causes which
prevented the victory of Israel of old, and the causes
which operate with such fearful disaster against the pro-
gress of the truth of God to-day.

1. In the first place, there was in the camp of Israel
of old the presence of superstition, a blind reliance upon
external forms. Tlio Israelites, though their lives were
loose and thoir devotions therefore iniquity, felt safe in
the prospect of the battle, because they had the presence
of the ark. At other times they cared nothing about it,
were indifferent altogether as to its welfare ; but in the
hour of danger, they rallied round it as an amulet of
strength, and in place of contrition before God, and in
placo°of humblings on account of sin, they vaunted that
the Lord was in the midst of them, and conveyed wha.
they deemed to be the symbol of his presence witJi
arrogant and obtrusive gladness to the camp. And it
is to be feared, brethren, that there is much of this vain
and formal confidence clogging our piety now. Are
there not hanging upon our skirts, ostensibly one with
us in fellowship and spirit, many of whom we stand in
doubt before God, and over whose defective consistency
we mourn? Nay, are we not all conscious, each for
himself— let the spirit of searching come in— are we not

all
Uu

ot'(
mil
tuu
stu]
the

ypi

lor

f(»iv

whi

froi

of a

old

upo

Goc

diss

perl

to t

hou

Ban(

lenc

the

thes

lif*-

sick

fron

the]

OF OOD.

jtrivcn, if tliero had
tho springB of deep
n children of Israel
irthy of themsclvcB.
nine into tho Bubject,
en the cniiscs which
old, and the canses
aster against tho pro-

in the camp of Israel
a blind reliance upon
ough their lives were
iniquity, felt safe in
they had the presence
ared nothing abont it,
ts welfare ; but in the
[1 it as an amulet of
>n before God, and in
sin, they vaunted that
n, and conveyed wha;
of his presence witli
to the camp. And it
re is much of this vain
our piety now. Are
ts, ostensibly one with
of whom we stand in
3 defective consistency
ill conscious, each for
g come in — are we not

SOMCIiXUK KOK TUK AKK OF 0(»U.

V20

all conscious of compronuac, if not, indeed, of botruyal 1
Our church, our organization, our intluuncc, llio decorum
of our services, the activity of uur af,'i'iu;ics, an attractive
ministry, a respectable gutiu'ring, a wcU-furnishcd Kanc-
tuary, a wcll-roplcnibhed treasury — have not tlieso
Btulen our hearts away from tho Divine, the 8])iritual,
the heavenly ■< Our spirit— bounds it after the Divine
Spirit as it once did 'i Uur ear— listens it as intently
lor his whispers i Our eye—has it as keen an insight
for his coming ? Or is tho very symbol of his dwelling,
which, in the olden time, transformed the wilderness
from the sepulchre into the home, become an occasion
of sin, if not an object of idolatry i Oh, for some bravo
old He;2ekiali to come amongst us and write Nehushtan
upon the Jnutilated brass, and break it into pieces before
God I Do not mistake us; wo are no iconoclasts, to
dissolve all organizations, and mutilate the whole and
perfect symmetry of trutli, and with distempered zeal
to tear away the inscriptions on her holy and beautiful
house. We rejoice in precious ordinances, and crowded
sanctuaries, and in those grand institutions of benevo-
lence which redeem our age from lethargy. But when
tho trust of the individual or of tho church is placed iu
these things, God'a Holy Spirit is dishonored, and the
life of our religion becomes of dwarfed growth and
sickly habit, from the very care with which we screen it
from the breath of heaven. Brethren, are there not in
the Divine "Word many intimations of the tendency which
wo now deplore, to let the very highest and holiest

lao

aoucrruDK foh tiik auk oi' ood.

cuBtoms dogoncrato into tho iiulillercnco of tbrrnalibm ?
Tliiit thu bra/Oil Borpont liftoil up in tho wiUiorucgs
recL'ivcd in after agei* idolatrous hoiiuige, I liave already
reminded you. And Buch waa the danger of idolatry to
tho children of Israel, that God would not trust any one
of them to bo preHont at the funeral of their great law-
giver. No human cyo must witncB8 his obBcqnicB, but,
in solitary poHsession of his God-prcparcd sepulchro, the
lordly lion stalked, and tho bald old caglo flew. The
combined power of healing and of speech constrained
tho worship of tho men of Lystra for tho Apostles Bar-
nabas and Paul. Malteso superstition, which had
branded him as a murderer whom tho viper stimg, in
Budden reaction deified him when he declined to die.
And in tho time of the Saviour, the temple had become
a house of merchandise ; aniso and cmnmin were of
more account than righteousness and truth, and enlarged
phylacteries and public prayers, and a countenance i)re-
ternaturally sad, were the low and degenerate substi-
tutes for a renewed heart and a holy life. And, bre-
thren, it becomes us solemnly to bo on our guard in this
matter, for the same tendency exists still. The formal
and tho careless will creep into our worship, and, if we
are not watchful, will eat out tho heart of our religion.
If, as individuals, our trust is in our attendance on
religious orduiances, or our participation of sacramental
emblems and our fellowship in church communion, or
the comeliness of our external moralities, pnd if, in the
strength of these, unfurnished with tho higher gifts of

itK or OOD.

I'ercnco of forinalibm ?
up ill the •wiUlorucsH
oimigo, 1 liavo iilreiidy
I! danger of Idolatry to
ould not trust any one
ml of their great law-
less liis obscquieB, but,
•rcparcd sepulchro, the

old caglo flew. The

of speech constrained
, for the Apostles Bar-
lerstition, which had
>ni the viper stung, in
!ji he declined to die.
;hc temple had become
und cummin were of
vnd truth, and enlarged
ind a countenance pre-
md degenerate substi-
i holy life. And, bre-
bo on our guard in this
xlsts still. The formal
)nr worship, and, if we
3 heart of our religion.

in our attendance on
eipation of sacramental

church communion, or
loralities, ^nd if, 4ii the
rith the higher gifts of

BOUCrrDDK FOR TIIK AUK OF OOD.

181

ho Dmno Sp.nt, wo go out to dare the dane^-rs and
light the battles of our daily llfo; „,»! if, us a r ,.nvh as
a confederacy of Christian people, wo talk auont our
"limbers, and our agency, and our influence, what aro
wo doing but perpotrating-peri,etrating, too, with still
greater oggravation and enormity-tho error and tho
nm of tho people of Israel of old ? We carry the ark
into tho battle, but wo leave the God of tho ark behind
us; and there is strong and solemn need that tho Klis
of our Israel should sit by tho wayside, watching, for
their hearts tremble for the ark of God.

2. I observe, secondly, that there was inr^onsiiitennj
in the camp of Israel. The times wore times of apostasy
and of idolatry; tho priests, who should have been the
leaders of the people, committed abominable iniquity ;
there were sensuality and oppression in the service of'
the holy shrine, so that men abhorred the oflering of
the Lord, and, by consequence, the whole land beciime
infected with the contagion of this evil example. There
was still an aflTectation of reverence for the sanctuary,
and of attachment to the ark; but tho Lord of tho
sanctuary and the God of the ark were not the true
objects of worship and of love. And is it not so largely
now? Are there not amongst those who habitually
gather themselves for worship, numbers, not, perhaps,
consciously insincere, but strangely defective J and
numbers more— spots in our feasts of charity— who como
among us like so many whited sepulchres, all symmetry
without, but all rottenness within: Achans, Avhoso

132

80LICITDDE FOR THE ARK OF GOD.

rapacious covetousuess can hardly hold itself from the
prey : Reubens, whose unstable bouIs are luring them-
selves to their own destruction : Judascs, with fawning
lip, and grasping hand, but hiding in the coward heart
the guilty purpose of betrayal? Arc there not, such
araonirst us ? Yes, there are those who intrude them-
selves into our assemblies, eluding all human scrutiny,
wearing the garb of sanctity, and remaining in their
imposture, perhaps, until some overwhelming pressure
crushes them, and brings scandal upon the cause that
they have dishonored. And in public life are we not
accustomed to hear a noisy zeal for the holy name of
God on the part of men who rarely use it except in
imprecation and in blasphemy — ostentatious helpings-
on of the ark by those in whose esteem it lignrcs only
as an imposing thing for public procession, or as a relic
of sanctity to be unveiled to the curious in some hour
of rejoicing and of display ? Brethren, this inconsistency
imperils alike our own salvation and the progress of the
cause of God. The Church must be consistent, every
individual in the Church nmst be sincere and thorough
in his piety, before the Avork is done. It may be, or it
may not be, that there is the hypocrite here to-night —
the systematic and habitual impostor — who has assumed
the garb of godliness that ho may the better sin ; if
there be, in God's name let him forsake his hope, for it
will perish, and let him at once, before the hail sweeps
his refuges of lies away, seek mercy of that Saviour
whom he has insulted }.nd betrayed. And what is our

)B THE ABK OF GOD.

can hardly hold itself from the
instable Bouls are Inring thera-
ructiou : Judases, with fawning
but hilling in the coward heart
betrayal? Arc there not such
e are those who intrude them-
es, eluding all human scrutiny,
mctity, and remaining in their
il some overwhelming pressure
gs scandal ujion the cause that
And in public life are we not
loisy zeal for the holy name of
en who rarely use it except in
isphemy — ostentatious helpings-
in whose esteem it lignrcs only
r public procession, or as a relic
led to the curious in some hour
ay ? Brethren, this inconsistency
salvation and the progress of the
lurch must be consistent, every
h nmst be sincere and thorough
work is done. It may be, or it
is the hypocrite liere to-night —
tual impostor — who has assumed
that ho may the better sin ; if
e let him forsake his hope, for it
I at once, before the hail sweeps
ly, seek mercy of that Saviour
,nd betrayed. And what is our

soLicrruDic fob tiik akk of god. 133

condition? Grey hah-s have come upon us, signs of
eebleness, tokens of lassitude and age, and we have not
known it. Oh I a more sincere and decisive godliness
IS wanted from us all, if we would either pass untar-
nished through the terrible temptations of the world or
be found worthy to bear the vessels of the Lord
Brethren, we must resolve that whatever of insincerity
may liave attached to our profession shall at once be
forsaken, and that we will from this time forward God
belpmg us, renew our baptismal vows, and be valiant
for the truth upon the earth. If in our pursuit of plca-
Bure there has been the indulgence of frivolity, and per-
haps of licentiousncss-if in our high-reaching ambition
tor renown there have been oppression and time-serv-
mg, and the concealment of principle, and practices that
are corrupt and unworthy-if in our labor for compe-
tence there has been compliance with unhallowed ens-
tom, or complicity with wrong-if we have followed
the maxims of trade, rather than the maxims of truth-
if there has been over-reaching and cupidity in our
commercial life, we have sinned, and our profession of
religion only makes our sin more truly scandalous, and
more completely sin. And it behooves us all now, from
this very hour, to put away the sin from us with loath-
mg, and fall humbled and penitent before God. Wo
must have holiness— inner and vital heart-holiness— if
we would cleave unto the Lord with full purpose of
heart.

Brethren, when I see out in the broad world the

134

SOLIcrniDE FOR THE ARK OF GOD.

palpable inconsistencies of professors of religion — a man
devout in the sanctuary and detestable at home, saintly
on the Sabbath and sordid all the week, ostentatious in
the enterprises of benevolence, but grinding his own
workmen and tyrannical to the poor — when I see u
man, whoso citizenship is ostensibly in heaven, distance
the keenest worldling around him in the race of fashion,
or in the strife for gold — when I see a man, whose reli-
gion teaches the divinest charity, censorious in his
spirit, and narrow in his soul — when I see a man, to
whom God has given a fortune in stewardship, grudging
to dispense to him that is in want ; when I see a man,
whose Divine Saviour rebuked his own disciples for in-
tolerance, professing to follow his footsteps, and yet
harshly excluding thousands from his fold ; or when in
the world of opinion I see religion represented as vindi-
cating the most monstrous atrocities, as preaching
eternal reprobation, as advocating an accursed system
of slavery, as upholding an aggressive wai* — what have I
to think but, as it was in the days of ancient Israel, the
ark of God is carried out by the uncircumcised to battle,
and there is need — strong, solemn, and passionate need
— that the Elis of our Israel should sit upon the way-
side, watching, for their hearts tremble for the ark of
God.

3. And then there was, in the third place — and it i»
the last particular that I shall mention — there was in
the camp of ancient Israel indifference. I do not mean
to say that there was not a sort of patriotism — a natural

t OF GOD.

re of religion — a man
able at home, saintly
week, ostentatious in
it grinding his own
poor — when I see u
Y in heaven, distance
n the race of fashion,
!e a man, whose reli-
fy censorious in his
hen I see a man, to
te wardship, grudging
; when I see a man,
ov»n disciples for in-
is footsteps, and yet
his fold ; or when in
represented as vindi-
cities, as preaching
an accursed system
ive wai* — what have I
of ancient Israel, the
circumcised to battle,
I and passionate need
lid sit upon the way-
emble for the ark of

bird place — and it is
ention — there was in
'ence. I do not mean
patriotism — a natural

BoUCITUDK FOR TflK AUK OF OnD.

1S5

and common wish for victory — a desire to free them-
selves from the Philistine thrall. But patriotism, to bo
real and to be hallowed, must have rill-lieartodncss ;
and this was lacking. They had no confidence in their
leaders ; there was among them the element of dis-
union. The laxity of their lives had of necessity en-
feebled somewhat their moral principles, so that the
high and chivalrous inspirations of the true lover of his
country were emotions that were above them and
beyond them. Hence, they went out into the battle-
field, but they went with paralyzed arms ; conscience
made cowards of them, and, recreant and panic-stricken,
they fled at the first attack of the foe. And, brethren,
can there be any question that a lack of whole-hearted
earnestness is one of the chief sources of peril to the ark
of God to-day ? Oh, if Laodicea is to bo the type of the
Church, it is no wonder that the world sneers and
perishes ! If religion, clad in silken sheen, has become
a patronized and fashionable thing — a something that
men cleave to as they cleave to the other items of a res-
pectable life — something that they wear as a sort of
armorial bearing for which they pay small duty either
to God or man — it is no wonder that the world shouji
be heedless of the message, and should subside into the
drowsy monotony in which the messengers dream away
their lives. Brethren, the poisonous trees do little harm
in the vineyard ; they are uprooted as soon as they are
seen. It is the barren trees, that cumber the ground
and mock the husbandman, that are the curses of the

13G BOLICITUDE FOB THE AUK OF GOD.

vineyard of tho Lord. Cases of flagrant apostasy but
little hinder the progress of the work; their incon-
sistency is SO palpable and manifest. They arc the true
hinderers, under the shadow of whose luxnry, and idle-
ness, and frivolity, the Church sits at ease in Zion,
while they arc eating out its inner life as the vampire
sucks out tho life-blood of tlie victim that it is all the
while fanning with its wings. Oh, brethren, wo need
all of us a baptism for a deeper and diviner earnestness,
that we may bear our testimony for God. We are u
witnessing Church ; this is our character and our mis-
sion. But, alas ! our witness has sometimes been feeble
and has sometimes been false. We have been altogether
too secular and too selfish. We have not been prophets
—not we ; but stammering, hesitating, blushing child-
ren, ashamed of the message that our Father has bidden
us deliver. We have sought morality rather than holi-
ness, serenity rather than sacrifice, smooth things to
conciliate the world rather tbau strong things to conquer
the world. Wo have been content to grasp all the
world's wealth and honor that we could, and then, in
the great wreck, some on boards and some on broken
pieces of the ship, to get ourselves safe to land, rather
than, freighted with heavenly treasure, to cast anchor
in the fair haven with colors flying, and amid the glad
welcome of the multitudes on shore. Oh, there is room,
brethren, indeed there is, for the taunt of the infidel:
"Ye Christians are as infidel as I am; ye do not believe
in your own system; if you did, like a fire in your

}

n
s;
o
o
L
d

a
tl

it
Q
to
th
ai
w
sa

t OF GOD.

aagrant apostasy but
work; tlieir incon-
,t. They arc the true
liose luxury, and idle-
iits at case in Zion,
!r life as the vampire
;tim that it is all the
►h, bx'cthren, wo need
d diviner earnestness,
for God. We are u
liaracter and our mis-
Bouietimes been feeble
B have been altogether
ave not been prophets
ating, blushing child-
our Father has bidden
■ality rather than holi-
ice, smooth things to
rong things to conquer
itent to grasp all the
(ve could, and then, in
3 and some on broken
es safe to land, rather
reasure, to cast anchor
ng, and amid the glad
)re. Oh, there is room,
e taiint of the infidel:
! am ; ye do not believe
id, like a fire in your

SOLIorrUDE FOK TUK AUK OP COP.

137

ooiies, it would burn you into action, if by any means
you miglit save some." Oh ! everything around us is
rebuking this lethi>rgic and this professional piety.
Everything is in earnest— suns in their constant shininir,
and rivers in their ceaseless flow ; the breeze that stops
not day nor niglit to bear liealth upon its wings, the
spring tripping up the winter, tljo seed-time liastening
on the harvest— all are activity, faltering not, any one
of them, in the sure and steady purjwse of their being.
Error is in earnest ; Pagans are self-devoted ; Mohamme-
danism has her resolute and valiant sons ; Popery com-
passes sea and land to make one proselyte ; infidels walk
Avarily and constantly, scattering the seeds of unbelief.
Society is in earnest; the sons of enterprise do not
slumber; the warriors— liow they hail the clarion call,
and rush eagerly into the battle; the students— how
they consume the oil of the lamp and the oil of life to-
gether ; Mammon's votaries — are they the laggards in the
streets ? Oh, everything around us seems to be lashed
into intensest energy, while we — ingrates that we are,
God forgive us ! — with the noblest work in the universe
to do, and the most royal facilities to do it with ; with
the obligations of duty, and gratitude, anu brotherhood,
and fellowship ; with the vows of discipleship upon us ;
with death at our doors and in our homes ; and with the
sad, wailing sound, as if it came from places where men
were and are not : " No man hath cared for my soul "
— we are heedless and exclusive, selfish and self-
aggrandizing, and, worst of all, as self-satisfied with our

138

eonunuuK fur tiik akk of god.

i,n-udgcJ obedience, and our scanty eflbrt, and our
licartlcss prayer, as if no sinners were in peril and as
if no Christ hud died. And is it really so ? Has that
mightiest motive lost its power? Is Mammon really
more potent than ]\[essiali 2 Has tlio crucifix a holier
inspiration than the cross? Is it true that war can
move men's passions, and science stimulate their souls,
and trade intensify their energies, and ambition flamo
their blood ? and is Christianity nothing but a worn-out
gpell — a dim memorial of ancient power — an ex-
tinguished volcano, with no firo slumbering in its
mighty heart ? Is it true ? Thy cross, O Jesus, has it
lost its magnetism? docs it no longer draw all men
nnto thee ? Tliy love, O Saviour, boundless, unfathom-
able, all-embracing, doth it constrain no longer the souls
for whom thy blood was shed ? It is yours to answer
these questions ; do it as in the eight of God. But, oh 1
when we sec the terrible indifference around ns — when
we see the awful contrast between the intensity of oui
beliefs and the smallness of our doings for Christ — what
wonder is it that the Elis of our Israel, who, with all
their faults, feel their heart-strings quiver in solicitude
for the interests of Zion, should sit by the wayside,
watching, because their hearts tremble for the ark of
God?

May God the Holy Ghost come down, and write these
truths upon the hearts of all, for his name's sake 1

'<U.

il
?■'

J
n

.1
L

n
ii

ti
a
h
tl
o
I
fi
d

1, ......iVRi ^V.i-.-'i*''*^*-* "

: OF GOD.

ity eflbrt, and our
I'cro in peril and as
•eally so ? Has that

Is Mammon really
the crucitix a holier
, true that war can
itimulato their souls,

and ambition flamo
thing but a worn-out
lent power — an ex-
> slumbering in its
jrosB, O Jesus, has it
inger draw all men
boundless, unfathom-
iii no longer the souls
t is yours to answer
htofGod. But, oh 1
ico around us — when
I the intensity of oui
ings for Christ — what

Israel, who, with all
3 quiver in solicitude

sit by the wayside,
emble for the ark of

down, and write these
is name's sake !

•Hi

THE INCAKNATIOI^i OF CIIEIST.

" Forasmuch then as the children arc partakers of flesh and blood,
he also himself likewise took part of the same." — Hkb. 11. 14.

Some eighteen hundred years ago, in the land of
Judah, and in the city of Jerusalem, a strange restless-
ness had come upon the public mind. If a stranger
just about that time had visited the Holy City, and
had made himself acquainted with the inner life of its
inhabitants, he would have found them all engrossed
with one absorbing theme. It had superseded, as
matter of interest, commerce, and conquest, and the
intrigues of faction, and the subjects of ordinary poli-
tics. It had become the unconfessed hope of matrons
and the deep study of earnest men. So prevalently
had it spread, that it became identified with every
thinking of the Hebrew mind, and with every beating
of the Hebrew heart. This topic was the advent of a
Deliverer who had been promised of God unto their
fathers. Their holy books contained circumstantial
directions, both as to the signs of his coming, and as
to the period about which he might be expected to

140

TlIK INCARNATION OK CIIKIST.

aiipcur, and these various prophccica converged
their fullillmcnt. Tlicrc were rumori', moreover,
certain meteoric appearances, which in Eastern coun-
tries were deemed tlie lumiiKnis heralds of the birth
of a great king ; and the heart of many a patriot Jew
would throb more quickly, as in his vain dream of
nuitcrial empire he saw the Messiah, already, in vision,
triumpliing over his enemies, and his followers flushed
with the spoil. In the midst of this national expect-
an(!y, events of strong significance were occurring in
a quarter from which the eyes of the world would have
turned heedlessly or in scorn, Tlie national census was
decreed to be taken throughout the Jewish provinces
of the Roman empire in the time of Augustus Ca;sar.
In obedience to the imperial enactment, each man, with
his household, went up for enrollment to his own — that
is, his ancestral city. The uuAvonted influx of strangers
had crowded the little inn in the little city of Bethle-
hem, one of the least among the thousands of Judah ;
BO that the out-buildings were laid under tribute to
furnish shelter to later comers. In the stable of that
mean hostelry a young child was born. There was
nothing about him to distinguish him from the ordinary
oflfspring of Jewish mothers, and yet, at the moment
of his birtii, a new song from angel harps and voices
rang through the plains of Bethlehem and ravished the
watchful shepherds with celestial harmonies. Small
space had passed ere wondering peasants beheld a star
of unusual brightness hovering over that obscure dwell-

ol
w

tl
kl
fl(

li:
hi
w
fo

ii]
n(
se

tl
tl
ei
b<
h
m

gi
fl(

CIIKIST.

iccica converged to
unorf, luorcovcr,
eh ill Eastern coun-
henikls of the birth
many a i^.atriot Jew

u 1

L liirt vain dream of
di, already, in vision,
his followers flushed
this national expect-
!e were occurring in
:he world would have
e national census was
the Jewish provinces
3 of Angnstus Csesar.
ment, each man, with
ncnt to his own — that
ed influx of strangers
little city of Bethle-
thousands of Judah ;
aid under tribute to
In the stable of that
as born. There was
lim from the ordinary
. yet, at the moment
gel harps and voices
liem and ravished the
lI harmonies. Small
;easants beheld a star
er that obscure dwell-

TUE INCARNATION OF OIIRIdT.

iug ; and by and by the inn was thrown into confusion
by the arrival of a company of foreigners from afar
ott' — swarthy and richly apparelled, Avho made their
way to the stable with costly gifts and spices, which
tliey presented to the new-born babe, and bowed the
knee before him in homage, as to a royal child. Rapidly
flew the glad tidings of great joy — jiassed from Hp to
lip, until the whole city was full of them — scorned by
haughty Pharisees with scoffs and doubting — hailed
with devout gladness by the faithful few who waited
for the consolation of Israel — agitating all classes of
the people — startling the vassal monarch on his throne
— " Unto you is born this day in the city of David a
Saviour, who is Christ the Lord."

Brethren, it is ours in this day to rejoice in the bless-
ing which on that day descended on mankind. Blind-
ness, indeed, hath happened unto Israel, so that they
see not the glorious vision. And there are many among
ourselves to turn away their eyes from the sight. But
the advent of tlie Saviour has been the chiefest joy of
the multitudes who once struggled like ourselves on
earth, and who now triumph through his grace in
heaven; and multitudes more, rejoicing in his true
humanity, and happy in their brotherhood with Im-
manuel, cease not to thank God for the unspeakable
gift, that, " forasmuch as the children are partakers of
flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of
the same." *< ^' . ;; '

The great fact, of course, which the Apostle wishofl

142

THE INCARNATIDX OF CBBI8T.

to impresd upon U8, is our Saviour's assumption of bu-
iiiaTiity. And there arc certain salient cbr..actcristic8
c.f that incarnation, upon whicli, in order that we may
Lave it presented iu all its aspects of blessing before
our minds, wo may not unprofttably dwell.

I. AVe observe, in the first place, then, that tue
Saviouk's assumption of humanity was an act ok in-
FtNiTE condescension. It is obviously impossible that
the language in which the Apostle here refers to Christ
could bo used legitimately of any being possessed essen-
tially of the nature of flesh and blood. The language
before us, applied to any mere man, even the holiest,
even the most heroic, would bo impertinent and with-
out meaning. There is obviously implied the fact of
his prei'xistence, and of his preoxistcnco in a nature
other and higher than that which he assumed. In a
subsequent verso the implication is further made, that
this preexistenc3 was in a nature other and higher than
the angelic. ]''or in his descent from the highest to
recover and save, he took not hold on angels — ^they
perished without redemption and without hope; but
he took bold on the seed of Abraham. In the former
chapter the Apostle rather largely illustrates his supe-
riority to the angel : " When ho bringetb in the first-
begotten into the world, he saith. Let all the angels of
God worship him." Just as when a crown prince goes
a travel into some foreign realm, all the choicest of the
nobility are selected to wait upon his bidding and fol-
low in his train, bo when Ho bringeth his first»begotten

at
in
in
iiii
lir
is

8U(

thi

foi

gri

sci

au<

bel

uni

the

sta;

roa

die

r CBBIST.

nr's assumption of bu-
salicnt cbr-^actcristics
in order that we may
sets of blessing before
)ly dwell,
place, then, that the

lY -WAS AN ACr OK IN-

iously impossible that
lo here refers to Christ

being possessed essen-
blood. The language
man, even the holiest,
impertinent and with-
ly implied the fact of
jl'xistenco in a nature
ch he assumed. In a
1 is further made, that
1 other and higher than
Lt from the highest to

hold on angels — ^they
nd -without hope; but
traham. In the former
ely illustrates his supe-
D bringeth in the first-
li. Let all the angels of
len a crown prince goes
I, all the choicest of the
on his bidding and fol-
ingeth his first'begotten

TIIK INCARNATION OF CIIKIST.

143

iito the Morld — a foreign realm to him— lie bays, "Let
all the anguls of God "—all the principalities and powers
in heavenly places— worship, bow down to, wait upon,
minister to him. Again, "of the angels he saitli. Who
niaketh his angels spirits, and his ministera a llamo of
lire. Hut unto the Son he saith. Thy tlirone, O God,
is forever and ever ; a sceptre of righteousness is the
sceptre of thy kingdom." From the scope and tenor
of these ])afisagC8 — indeed, from the scope and tenor of
the Ai»08tle's entire argument, we are swift to conclude,
and Ave are bold to affirm, the proper and unoriginated
Godhead of the Saviour ; that it was God made man
fur man to die. Yes, brethren, that stoop of illimitable
graciousncss was from the highest to the lowest. And
in mysterious union with the child-heart of that uncon-
scious babe the veiled Divinity slumbered. That weary
and hungry traveller along the journey of life— it was
Jehovah's fellow! Tliat meek sufferer whose head is
bowed to drink the cup of bitterness to the dregs — it
was the true God, and eternal life ! Strange marriage
between the finite and the infinite; incomi^rehengible
union between the divine and human !

There are scoflfers in the world, I know, who dieniiss
the mystery of the incarnation, and deride it as the fig-
ment of fancy, or as the vision of fanaticism. They are
of two kinds mostly : some who try everything by the
standard of their own ideas, and who exalt their own
reason — at beat of no great tallness, and which preju-
dice haa dwarfed into yet pigmier statui'e — into abao

141

THK INOAKNATIOM OK CHRIST.

luti! aictutorslnp over tho realm of miiul ; ftiid others
muro .U-gnuled, who «eok a license lor their desperate
wifkcdni'srt luni.lst tho BkeptieiBins of a Btill more des-
porate intidolity, who dmWm tho narrative of the in-
caniation because it is a rn>«tery, Bomethiiig that i« not
patent to tho Bcuscs, which they aver to he the only
means of knowledge. All tho while they live in a
niyBtoriouB world where there are thousandB of Bccretrt
which their hearts cannot nnravel. In the ordinary
re;,(.nrcc8 of liftv i.i the daily henclita which Providence
pours forth ungrudgingly, they take their churlish share
of blessings whoso wherefore they understand not. They
are themselves a mystery, perlmps, greater than aught.
They cannot, any one of them, luidcrstand that subtile
organism Avhich they call man, nor how that strange
essence or principle, which they call life, floods them
every moment with rapture; and yet, with marvellous
inconsistency, credulous on matters where no mystery
might bo expected to abide, they are skeptical in mat-
ters Avhere mystery exists of necessity, and where the
absence of it would be a suspicious sign : " For canst
thou by searching find out God ; canst thou find out
the Almighty mito perfection?" ' '^ '"" -T'"^-"*

Brethren, the incarnation of Christ is a mystery — an
inexplicable and solemn mystery. But were there no
mystery, on the other hand, think you, in the event of
Christ being a mere man? How stands the case?
There is an individual obscurely born ; reared in vil-
lage humbleness ; looked on by his kindred according

t
1
f
t
t
1

8
t

1)
s
c
ii

li
o
a
a
I
b
U

CHRIST.

of inliul ; and others

for their dcflpcrato
s of a Btill tnoro des-

narrativo of the iii-
Boniethiiig that ia not

aver to he the only
rthilo they live in u

thousands of eccrcts
rc\. In the ordinary
tits which Providence
cc their churlish share
understand uot. Thoy
9, greater than aught,
[iderstand that suhtilc
nor how that strange

call life, floods them

1 yet, with marvellous
crs where no mystery
r are skeptical in mat-
eessity, and where the
ious sign : " For canst
i; canst thou find out

Mirist is a mystery — an
y. But were there no
k you, in the event of
low stands the caee'i
y born ; reared in vil-
lus kindred according

mn I>fCAKNATIOJf OF CHUI8T.

l45

to the flesh witli cohhieHa, if not with (h'wliko; with no
urinti)cratif coinu-ctions, with no nohlc patromige ; ti'Il-
ing to all to whom ho niinlBtered, with a strange can-
dor, that ho rt'<iuired id)8olute porvico; that ho had no
l»rc rernienfs in hin gift ; that lio had no hrihes to win
till) alh'giuncu of the Hordid ; that it was nioro than
likely, if tiiey follow«;d him, lli;it they wt)uld have to
forsake idl elsi-, to i)art at once with all that was lucra-
tive and all that was endearing; to he eeeludcd from
ccclosiaBtscal privilcgo; to hu traduced by slander ; to
he hunted hy jjersecution ; nay, to hold life cheap, fur
whoboover killed them, in the blind zeal of his partisan-
ship, thought he had done (iod service. Now, look at
that individual. In spite of all thcHo disadvantages, by
the mere force of his teaching and of his life, he gathers
H multitude of followers ; charms the iidher from the
lake ; charms the soldier from the standard ; charms —
strangest of all — the publican from the loved seat of
custom ; and not only tlieso, who might, i)erhap8, bo
imagined to risk little by the venture, but charms the
physician from his practice, the scholarly student from
the feet of his master, the ruler from his pride and
luxury, the honorable counsellor from the deliberations
of the Sanhedrim. Tlie chief authorities combine
against liim ; but his doctrine spreads. His name is
attainted as a traitor ; but he is held dearer than ever.
Ilis death gratifies his bloodthirsty and relentless foes ;
but his disciples rally, and his cause lives on. His
tomb is jealously guarded and hermetically sealed, lint

146

THE INCARNATION OF CIIKIST.

it is Bomohow found empty notwitlistivnding. He shows
himself alive by many infallible proofs. He eoars, after
forty days, from the crest of a mountain, and he has
established an empire in the minds of thousands upon
thousands, which promises to be extensive as the world,
and to be permanent as time. And you ask us to be-
lieve that all this could be accomplished by the unaided
resources of a mere man like ourselves! Were not
that a mystery than all other mysteries greater and sur-
passing far? Tlien, look at that individual in the days
of his ficsh. He exerts, on the testimony of numerous
and unexceptionable witnesses, miraculous power. He
has power over the elements, for the winds are still at
his bidding, and the lawless sea obeys him. He has
power over inorganic matter and over vegetable life,
for he blasts the tig-tree by a syllable, and five loaves
and two fishes swell up, as he speaks, into a royal re-
past for full five thousand men. He has power over
the ferocious passions, for he strikes down the advancing
soldiery, and at his glance the foul demoniac is still.
He has power over sickness, for the numbed limbs of
the paralytic quicken, as he speaks, into strengthened
manhood, and the leprosy scales off from its victim,
and leaves him comely as a child. He has power over
death, for at his word the maiden rises from her shroud ;
and the young man stops at the gate of the city to greet
his mercy on his way to burial; and weeping sisters
clasp their ransomed brother, a four days' dweller in
the tomb. And you ask us to believe that all this can

ATION OF CIIKIST.

ry notwitlistanding. He shows
fallible proofs. He eoars, after
St of a moiintain, and he has
I the minds of thousands upon
es to be extensive as the world,
time. And you ask us to bo-
.e accomplished by the unaided
an like ourselves 1 Were not
ither mysteries greater and sur-
k at that individual in the days
I, on the testimony of numerous
tnesses, miraculous power. He
ncnts, for the winds are still at
wless sea obeys him. He has
matter and over vegetable life,
e by a syllable, and five loaves
p, as he speaks, into a royal re-
sand men. He has power over
)r he strikes down the advancing
ance the foul demoniac is still.
;kness, for the numbed limbs of
as he speaks, into strengthened
irosy scales off from its victim,
r as a child. He has power over
he maiden rises from her shroud ;
)p8 at the gate of the city to greet
r to burial ; and weeping sietera
brother, a four days' dweller in
ask us to believe that all this can

THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST.

147

have been accomplished by the unaided resources of a
mere man like ourselves! "Were not that a mystery
than all other mysteries greater and surpassing far?
"Ah," but say some, "he was a good man, wo acknow-
ledge ; a great teacher, a model man, a representative
man, the highest man, God specially honored him. lie
may almost be said, indeed, to have had an inferior and
derived Divinity. It is no wonder, therefore, that he
should thus perform miracles, and that he should thus
have founded a dominion." Nay, pardon me, but this
only deepens the mystery, for this model man, whose
frown was dismissal from his presence^ of whose inimit-
able morals Eousseau, the infidel, said, that if the life
and death of Socrates were those of an angel, the life
and death of Jesus wore those of a God — this model
man claimed all his I'l ^ to be Divine, made the impres-
sion of his pretensions upon the minds of the Jews so
strong that they stoned him for blasphemy, received
Divine hon-^rs without once rebuking the offerers,
" thought it not robbery to be equal with God," and
distinctly predicted that he should come again inlho
clouds of heaven. Oh, Jesus of Nazareth cannot pos-
sibly be simply a good and benevolent man. There is
no escape from this alternative — ^no middle position in
which he can abide — he is either an impostor or God.
Now, unbeliever, you who dismiss the mystery of the
incarnation, and treat it with solemn scorn or with de-
risive laughter, solve this mystery of your own. You
pass through life in your pride and in your skepticism,

148 THE INCARNATION OF cnUItiT.

Bcouting this mystery of Godhead, and yet slmt up to
the far greater myBtery-either a good man ^^•l.o has
Bpoken falsehood, or a., i.upostor ^vho has cheated he
^vorld. -But .ve, ^Nnth reverent trust, and from the
lowest depth from which gratitude can spring, can say,
" Great is the mystery of godlmcss, God mamleBt m

the flesh." , * ;

II. I observe, secondh , the Saviock's assu^fiion of

HUMANITY WAS NOT ONLY CONnKSCKNDINO, BUT VOLUN-

TAUY. This, indeed, follows inevitably from the fore-
gone conclusion of his Divinity. Being Divme, he
could be under no restraint of overwhelming necessity.
To accommodate the theological language to human
infirmity, we are apt to speak of God sometimes ae if
influenced by external things. But really it is not so ;
every Divine act is spontaneous and self-origmatmg.
Jesus Christ, therefore, could be under the bond of no
possible obligation. Law was himself in spoken precept.
Jnstice was himself engraven on the universe. Mercy
was himself, the radiation of his own loving-kmdncss
upon his people. Every decision of wisdom, every
administration of physical govenmient, every act^ of
omnipotence, was his own; not in independent action,
but in the harmonious imion of the Divine nature. It
is manifest, so far as his Divine nature was concerned,
that his assumption of humanity must have been dis-
interested and voluntary ; the strong upwelling of liifl
tenderness for the hapless creatures he had made.
There is something in the spontaneity of his offering

cnuiBT.

1, and yet shut up to
a good man who has
-svlio has cheated the
trust, and from the
e can sprhig, can say,
less, God manifost in

viocii's Assoiriiox of

ISCKNDISO, BUT VOLTW-

vitably from the forc-
r. Being Divine, he
'crwhehniug necessity.
I language to human
' God sometimes as if
3ut really it is not so ;
IS and self-originating.
! under the bond of no
inself in spoken precept,
n the universe. Mercy
is own loving-kindness
sion of wisdom, every
■cnmicnt, every act of
in independent action,
the Divine nature. It
I nature was concerned,
ity must have been dis-
strong upwelling of his
features he had made.
)ntaneity of his offering

TUK INCAKNATION OF CUUIST.

149

which redeems it from tlie suspicion of iiijilstice, and
which vindicates the Father from tlie accusrKns of
those who charge him with vindictivcncss and cruelty.
It would seem, indeed, as if tlic Saviour liad foreseen,
in the days of his flesh, that there would rise auda-
cious rebels, who would thus cast a slur upon his
Father's kindness, for ho defends liim by antici-
pation: "Tlierefore doth my Father love me, becaube
I lay down my life, that I miglit take it again. Ko
man taketli it from mc, but I lay it down of myself. I
have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it
again."

But as to the human nature which vicariously suf-
fered, you remember that at the time there was the
proposition of incarnation, there was also the proposi-
tion of equivalent recom{)ense. The promise of the joy
was coeval with the prospect of si.'ering. Hence the
Apostle: ""Who for the joy th. ; -et before him

endured the cross, despising the sh- '^ .'' A world ran-
somed from the destroyer, a mediatorial kingdom erected
upon the ruins of earth's spoiled thrones, a name that
is above every name, honored in heaven by prostrate
obedience and undying song, honored on earth by every
confessing lip and every bending knee — this was the
joy set before him ; and for the sake of all this he
endured patiently the cross, despised, looked down with
holy contempt upon, mysterious and inconceivable
shame. Besides, there can be no availableness in
exacted suffering. There is something in the voluntari-

150

■niK 1N0AUNATI"N 1>K CI1KI8T.

ness of the incarnation which at once exalts our reve-
roncc and au,Mncnts our aftection for o- Surety and
Friend. We judge of the excellency of v.^o by e
^villiughood with which it i. practiced. AVc caunot
enter into a proper con.parison, because we are a under
the bond of one common obligation ; but we all know
that the virtue shines the most brightly which i8 prac-
tised amidst hazard and suffering, rather than that
^hich is accorded where duty is inviting, and where
obedience is profitable. Viewed in this hght, what a
wealth of disinterested generosity there is m the incar-
nation of Christ. The voice was heard from the midst
of the throne : « Hero I am ; se.d me. Lo I come. In
the volume of tlie book it is written of me, to do thy
will, O my God." In another passage: "I dehght to
do thy will." Kow, just think of wliat the will of God
in this instance comprehended. The veiling the essen-
tial glory, the tabernacling in human flesh, the hon>e-
IcsB wandering, the pangs of desertion and treachery,
the abhorred contact with evil, the baptism of fire,
beside the crown of sorrow, the dread hiding of the
Father's countenance in portentous eclipse. And into
tliis more than Egyptian darkness Jesus delighted to
enter, for the sake of fallen man. Wlieu he assumed
the form of a servant, and, actually incarnate, entered
upon tlie work of redemption, it was with no reluctant
step, in no hireling spirit. It was his meat and his
drink; as necessary and pleasing to him as his daily
sustenance, to do the will of his Father which was in

C11KI8T.

THE INCARNATION OK OIIUIST.

161

)ncc exalts o\ir reve-
11 for our Surety and
jncy of virhio by tlic
iictised. AVo cannot
cause we arc all under
on ; but we all know
•ightly wliicli is prac-
ng, ratlicr than that
8 inviting, and where
. in this light, what a
' there is in the incar-
heard from the midst
1 inc. Lo I come. In
■itten of mo, to do thy
lassage: "I delight to
f what the will of God

The veiling the essen-
luman flesh, the honie-
38crtion and treachery,
[, the baptism of fire,
le dread hiding of the
;ous eclipse. And into
less Jesus delighted to
m. Wlien he assumed
ually incarnate, entered
t was with no reluctant

-was his meat and his
ng to him as his daily
lis Father which was in

licavcn. Steadily pursuing one purpose, lie was heed-
less of all that liindcrcd ; lie felt irrepressible longings
for its accomplishment; and his soul was like a prisoned
bird that daslics itself for freedom against the grating
of the cage : " I have a ba])tism to bo baptized with ;
liow am 1 straitened till it be accomjilished." Steadily
pursuant of that pui-pose, he was liccdless of all that
hindered. Now passing through a threatening mob,
now turning from an offered crown, now resisting wisely
the temptations of the enemy, now casting behind him
tlie more dangerous, because more affectionate remon-
strances of his disciples, and now repelling the sugges-
tive aid of tAvelve legions of angels from heaven. Oh,
as sinners like ourselves, at far off, reverent distance,
watch him in his redemptive course — as, one wave after
another wave, the proud waters go over his soul, and
he dashes off the spray, and holds on his course, unfal-
tering and steady, to the end — Avith what depth of
gratitude should we render him the homage of our
hearts, and with what earnestness and self-accusation
should we take to ourselves the burden of every

melancholy sigh !

1 1 ' , ,1]' V ^

, . . " For all his wounds to sinners cry —

I suffered this for you."

in. I observe, thirdly, tue Saviouk's assumption op

HUMANITY WAS NOT ONLY CONDESCENDINO AND VOLUN-
TARY, BUT IT WAS COMPLETE. It was no mock assum])-
tion of humanity. The whole nature was taken on.

152

THK INCARNATION OF CUKI8T.

He had a human body with all its infinnities ; he had a
liuman soul with its completoncss of faculty aud its
capability of endurance, with its every capacity, with
its every aflfection. Tliero were three reasons which
seemed to render this entire assumption of human
nature necessary. It was necessary, first, because the
man had sinned, and upon the man, therefore must
come the brand of Jehovah's displeasure. It was neces-
sary, secondly, that the world might have the best and
utmost manifestation of God, and that humanity, too
gross and bewildered to comprehend ideas that were
purely spiritual, might see in the Incarnate Son the
highest embodied possibility of being. It was neces-
sary, thirdly, that the felt need of the people in all ages
of the world's history might bo supplied— the need of
perfect pureness allied to perfect 6ymi>athy— of the
strength which was omnipotent to deliver, married to
the tenderness that was brave and deep to feel. Tlio
complete humanity of Jesus has been attested by abun-
dant authentications. In every legitimate sense of the
word he was a mam with man. He did not take our
sinful nature upon him; that is only an inseparable
accident of humanity ; it came in after the creation,

and it should go out before the end. Therefore,
every legitimate sense of the word, he was man with
man. He was born helpless as other children arc. His
early years were spent in the house o his reputed
father, working at his handicraft for bread. He grew
in wisdom and in stature as other children grow ; not at

1
i
I

t
I

t(
q

n
1(
c

CUKI8T.

infinnitiee ; he had a
38 of faculty and its

every capacity, with

three reasons which
ssumption of human
iary, first, because the

man, therefore must
leasure. It was neces-
^ht have the best and
id that humanity, too
shend ideas that were
he Incarnate Son the

being. It was neces-
r the people in all ages
supplied— the need of
ect 6ymi>alhy — of the

to deliver, married to
md deep to feel. Tlie
been attested by abuu-
lejritimate sense of the
He did not take our
is only an inseparable

in after the creation,
lie end. Therefore, in
rord, he was man with
)thcr children are. His

house o his reputed
ft for bread. He grew
sr children grow ; not at

TUK INCAUNATION OF CUUIST.

153

once, but by the slow ripening of years developed into
the maturity of man. When he entered on his public
ministry and went out among hi.s fellows, he sustained,
as they did, the relation6lii])s of mutual dependence
and hel]). He was no self-eleeted reformer. He was
no turbulent inflamer of unlioiy jiassions. Faulty as
was the goveniment under which he lived, ho was a
loyal subject, paid the tribute money without murmur-
ing, and siibmitted himself to every ordinance of man.
He was no dark ascetic; he was a brother of the multi-
tudes, mingling in all the grief and cheerfulness of life.
If men invited him to their houses, he went and sat
down with them at their boards. If they asked him to
their marriage festivals, he graced them with his i>ro-
sence, and turned the water into wine; and mingled his
tears with theirs w). n the light of their homes was
quenched, and when some loved one was suddenly
withdrawn. His care for them who trusted him ceased
not Avith his own danger, for, having loved his own, he
loved them to the end. His filial affection was conspi-
cuous throughout every part of his life, and shone
radiant as a star through the darkness of his agony.
He was the man Christ Jesus. How is it that you
identify him with our nature ? "What are the peculiar
characteristics by which you understand that such a
one is partaker of humanity? Does human nature
hunger? He hungered in the plain where the delusive
fig-tree grew. Does human nature thirst ? He felt the
pang sharply upon the cross. Is human nature wearied

164

THE INCAENATION OF CUKI8T.

under the pressuvo of travelling and of toil ? Ho sat
thus upon tlie well. Does lininan nature veop unbid-
den tears? Pity wrung them from him as ho gazed
upon the fated and lost Jerusalem ; and sorrow Avrung
them from him at the grave where Lazarus lay. Docs
human nature shrink and fear in the prospect of im-
pending trial, cowering beneath the apprehended peril,
and pray that dread pangs may bo spared it ? In the
days of his flesh, when he poured out his supplications
with strong crying and tears, " ho was heard, in that he
feared." He was the man Christ. Come, ye seekers
after the sublime, behold this man— marred enough by
sorrow, but not at all by sin; decorated witli every
grace, yet disfigured by no blemish of mortality ; ray-
ing out warmth and life into the hearts and homes of
men ; with not an act that you can trace up to selfish-
ness, and not a word that you can brand as insincere ;
with his whole life of kindness, and his death an expia-
tion—behold the Divine Manl Talk of the dignity of
human nature— it is there, and you can find it nowhere
in the universe beside. "The boast of heraldry, -the
pomp of power," the skill to make canvaa speak or
marble breathe, or to play upon men's hearts as upon a
harp of many tunes, the mad ambition that would climb
to fame by slopes where the trampled lie, and where
the red rain drops from many a heart's blood— what are
their claims to his? Hush, ye candidates for greatness,
and let him speak alone. Erase meaner names from
thy tablets, thou applauding world, and clironicle this

ha
of
vis
bri
wl
sin
ev(
Bid
of

8p(

uni
he
up(
sue
wii
lik(
tha
bef
bei

r CIIKIBT.

and of toil ? Ho sat
an nature veop unbid-
rom him as ho gazed
!m ; and Borrow Avrung
!ro Lazarus lay. Docs
in the prospect of im-
the apprehended peril,

bo spared it ? In the
d out his supplications
10 was heard, in that he
■ist. Come, ye seekers
an — marred enough by
decorated witli every
nish of mortality ; ray-

hearts and homes of
can trace up to selfish-
can brand as insincere ;
and his death an cxpia-

Talk of the dignity of
you can find it nowhere
! boast of heraldry, -the
make canvaa speak or

1 men's hearts as upon a
ibition that would climb
trampled lie, and where
heart's blood — what are
candidates for greatness,
ase meaner names from
irorld, and clironicle this

TUB INCABNATION OF CUItlST.

155

name instead. Shrine it in your living hearts, those of
you who trust in his atonement, and who come by his
mediation unto God ; grave it there, deeper than all
oiiier names — the man Christ Jesus.
IV. I observe, fourthly, the ixcarxation of tiir

SaVIOUB was not only CONDESCKNDma, AND VOLUNTARY,
AND COMPLETE, BUT IT WAS ALSO, AND OUIEFLT, ATONINO.—

The great purpose for which he came into the MorM
could not bo properly accomplislicd but through dt-atli.
It was through death that he was fo destroy him that
had the power of death, that is, tlio devil. Intimations
of this had come previotisly into the world, in tlio
visions of seers, from the lips of propliots, in the adum-
brations and typical shadowings of some great Otiercr,
who, in the end of the world, should appear to put away
sin by the sacrifice of himself. All other purposes, how-
ever separably noticeable, become subordinate and sub-
sidiary to this. Hence Christ did not become partaker
of flesh and blood that he might give to the world a
spotless example. Although holiness, illustrious and
unspotted, does beam out from every action of his life,
he was not incarnate in order that he might impress
upon the world the teachings of pure morality ; although
such were the spirituality of his lessons, and the power
wii;h which he taught them, that "never man spake
like this man." He did not assume our nature merely
that he might work his healing wonders, showing,
before the bleared vision of the world, omnipotence in
beneficent action. All these things, however separably

166

THE INCAUNATMN OF CHitlST.

noticeable, were not vast cn<,ugli or grand enough to
have brought the Saviour lVou» hcavei.. Miracles, pre-
ceptB, ki«ane..ce, all these ^vere collateral blesBings-
flowers that sprung up, as at the tread of the labled
goddess, ^vherever he appeared. Large and lull ni ]m
si.dit, through all the years of his incarnate l.fe, u.ore
distinctly, more vividly, in the las. , oars of his ministry,
loomed the shadow of the ligurc of the cross : » That is
the end of my toil; that is the consummation of ray
purpose, I am straitened till I get to that ; I have not
fultiUcd my mission and expressed all the Divine energy
that I am to pour out upon the world until I reach that.
Tlicro is the goal of all my endeavors ; there I see
tny true office before mc-the surety of insolvent
humanity, the friend of a forsaken race, the refuge and
Buccor of endangered man." If yuu will think for a
while, you will see how all the other characteristics of
the incaniation converged hero, and were each of them
necessary in order to give this, the master-purpoBO, its
efficacy and its power. It was necessary that a being
of holy estate should condescend, Divinity sustaining
humanity under the pressure of agony, and imparting to
humanity a plenitude of atoning meritoriousnesB. It
was necessary that the offering should be voluntary,
because there could be no availablencss in exacted suf-
fering; and the offering must be profoundly willing
before it could be infinitely worthy. It was necessary
that the whole nature should be taken on, because the
man had sinned and the man must die; and as

til

tic

frt

tai

lie

tin

atr

Lil

cht

the

say

liol

froi

der

bef

OHitlBT.

or grnntl enough to
;avci». Jlivacles, pre-
colUitcral blesBings—
B tread of the fabled
Large and full in his
8 incarnate life, ujore
,^ cars of his ministry,
)f the cro8B : " That is
consummation of my
ct to that ; I have not
I all the Divine energy
orld until I reach that,
ndcavors; there I bco
13 surety of insolvent
jn race, the refuge and
f you will think for a
other characteristics of
and were each of them
the master-purpoBO, its
necessary that a being
lid. Divinity sustaining
ngony, and imparting to
ng meritoriousncBfl. It
r should be voluntary,
ablencss in exacted suf-
, be profoundly willing
rthy. It was necessary
e taken on, because the
an must die ; and as

TUB INCARNATION OF CIIU18T. ^

147

liumanity, in its federal representative, the first Adam,
had been drawn to death, bo liumanity, in its federal
representative, the second Adam, might have the free
gift coming npon all men unto justification of lifo.

Now, you see how far wo have got in our search for
nn accepted propitiation. Wo liavo got a willing vic-
tim. \io have got a willing victim in the nature that
had sinned ; wo have got a willing victim in the nature
that had sinned with no obligation of his own, and all
whose merit, therefore, could be to spare for the redemp-
tion of the sinner. Justice herself required only another
exaction, and tliat is, that this willing victim sliould bo
free from taint, whctlier of hereditary or actual crime.
'Now, the miraculous conception freed IVom the heredi-
tary taint of Juiman nature; and, thus freed from
liereditary defilement, he was born, not of blood, not in
the ordinary method of linnian generation, nor of the
will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.
And he moved about in the midst of his fellows in an
atmosphere of impurity, yet escaping its contagion.
Like the queenly moon shining down upon the haunts
of beggars, and dens of thieves, yet preserving its
chastity and its brilliance unimpaired, he moved among
the Bcum and offecouring of human society, and coidd
say, "Which of you convicteth mc of sin?" He was
holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners; evoking
from heaven its attesting thunders ; charming the won-
dering earth with spotlessness which it had never seen
before ; and (crown of triumph !) wringing from baffled

158 THE INCiVnNA'rioK OF CIIKI8T.

,lcmo,,. llu. ,-ol,K.l.n>t „ck,u,wl<-.lpm.n., "Wo know U,o»

,„!„,, lV.e irom ol.ligu.io,,, ma.,'- ■^'«";"' ^"^'';» ' " ^
inca „ate Son. Mlow l,in, in tho shadow of In. , «
In. Clo«o npon .ho agony of Ooth.on,ano cmno h .
a„ t ^v 11.0 ,rcach.ry of one whom ho ad honored.
ra.ton.ly 1.0 boar, .ho rihaUlry a...l i.....l "• "- '"f
W,oMn.lK...on,.l,al.ofl'ilato. Wcuily ho .road,
h ,«.,h«ay .0 Clvary, hoarin. ).« own ero... ^ow,
,„o .0. « roaml. Tho ,n....i....l« aro P-ho.-o.! h
,„, hill ..r «ha,..o. Tho nail» aro fas.onc, .no tho
' -vori.,, flo,h; and in agony and .or.„ro ohb. 1...,."'"
hf „«-a,- Tho h.». .ni..i..ori..g ....gol loavo. h.n,, tor ho
.id ,1.0 wi..e,>rc. alono. Da.kno. «a.ho™ ... 1-
,„:,dy r„.„.d-, and-oh, n.y.lo.y o -.-'"O- "^^^
Ka.lfev hidoB his faco ft™" the Bolovod. U..rlc.n..«
d ,o..B in .ho .ley and in .1.0 n.ind-l.ow long h
»ffi gh.od gators know no.. A cry l.nvM. hrongh tho
Zm, sharp, shrill, piorcing. All is s.lon,-,. .=
|^,od 1 1^; nigl.., that had olunbod .^ strange »
,ho throno of noon, a. snddcly d.s;.orsod. Tho .m.U,
, .hat oagor and wondering had B"*-* J"^*;';
1,111 of shamo, soparatod to thoir sovoral homes, l«lk.ng
W .ho ...^gedy .Ley had wi.nossod. Tho moon roso
:„ high as oataly as if the snn l.ad no. set on a seeno o.
Wood Bn.,ol,l wha. a ohango those few hours had
light in he fortnnes of the world. Christ had d.ed,

JIIKIBT.

out, " Wo know thoo
,0(1." Iliir^** then, "ih
; victim; R wiUinj,'
mipd, and frco from
k-rmil Saviour, Ood'^
B ehadow of his ]n\»-
Jcthscmiino camo his
lom he had honored,
md insnlt in the dis-
Wcarily ho treads
hifl own croHW. Now,
le are gathorod about
irc fastcnt'd into the
I torture ebbs his pure
iirrcl loavea him, for he

Darkness gathers sud-
,.y of mystery!— the
e" Beloved. Darkness

mind— how long, the
C17 bursts through the
All is silent— it is
dimbed np strangely to
dispersed. The multi-
had gathered round the
r several homes, talking
ncssed. Tho moon rose
lad not set on a scene of
ro those few hours bad
^orld. Christ had died,

TIIK INCARNATION OF CTIKIsr.

189

the just for the unjust, that ho might bring us to (iod.
(10, tell it to that dfspairiiig siniu'i' — that man, I mean,
who has the cord about liis neck, and the pistol at liis
tiiroat, who is just about to escape from the terrible har-
rowings of an ahirmed conscience, by the dreadful alter-
uative of self-murder. (lO to him; be quick ; tell liiin
he need not die, for Christ has died, luis died to bear his
sins away. I'roclaim salvation from the J.uril for
M'retchod dying men. Sound it out from the summit
of that hill-sido of Calvary, and let tho sister hills echo
it, until round the cartli has spread the rapturous
hosanna — Salvation I Go with it to tho wretelied, and
miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked; it is just tho
thing they need — Salvation ! Iling it out through every
avenue of this vast metropolis of a world, till it rouse
tho slumbering dust, and awake the coflined dead —
Salvation ! Take it to your own hearts — bo sure of
that; and, in the fullness of your own experience, let us
liear your song: "There is, therefore, now no condem-
nation to them that are in Christ Jesus, who walk not
after tho flesh, but after the Spirit."

How is it with you, brethren ? I'low is it with you
to-night? Have you any personal interest in the incar-
nation of the Saviour? lias the realizing change by
which you aro enabled to understand the purposes of
tho Saviour's advent come upon your heart ? Have tho
purposes of his advent been fulfilled in your experience ?
Ho came " to destroy him that had the power of death,"
that is, the devil — to counter-work him on his own

160

TUK INCARNATION OF CHRIST.

ground ; is he slain in you— vanquished and overcome
in yon ? He came » to deliver them who through fear
of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage ;" are
you freed from the tyranny? Have you entered into
the liberty wherewith Christ has promised to make you
free ? He has accomplisl'iri his purpose. Many a one
has gone blithely to the stake in the name of Jesus ;
many a one has marched steadily with eyes open to
meet the last enemy, trusting in Jesus. No, not much
fear of death about Stephen, when in the gloom of that
fierce council he looked up and saw heaven opened, and
the Son of Man standing at the right hand of the throne
of God, and all that were in the council, looking stcad-
* fastly on him, saw his face as it had been the face of an
angel. Not much fear of death in Taul. That is more
patent to your experience, perhaps ; for he was a blas-
phemer once, we know— a persecutor once, an injurious
man once; but he obtained mercy, and ho is presented
in what I take to be one of the sublimest passages of
Scripture: "I am in a strait betwixt two"— frail,
erring, sinful, mortal man poised, so to speak, in balance
between both w^orlds, having the choice of either, and
not knowing which to take—" I am in a strait betwixt
two, having a desire to depart and to be with Christ,
which is far better ; but to remain in the flesh is more
needful for you." Not much fear of death there. Ho
came "to deliver them who, through fear of death,
were all their life-time subject to bondage." How is it
with you? Does the Spirit take of the things of Christ

ATION OF CHRIST.

ou — vanquished and overcome
lelivcr them who through fear
'etime subject to bondage;" are
nuy? Have you entered into
irist has promised to make you
ib:ri iiis purpose. Many a one
3 stake in the name of Jesus ;
ed steadily with eyes open to
isting in Jesus. No, not much
>hen, when in the gloom of that
up and saw heaven opened, and
/ at the right hand of the throne
i-e in the council, looking stoad-
ice as it had been the face of an
of death in raul. That is more
,ce, perhaps ; for he was a blas-
— a persecutor once, an injurious
ined mercy, and ho is presented
ne of the sublimest passages of

a strait betwixt two"— frail,
m poised, so to speak, in balance
laving the choice of either, and
take — " I am in a strait betwixt
depart and to be with Christ,
it to remain in the flesh is more
t much fear of death there. Ho
m who, through fear of death,

subject to bondage." How is it
jpirit take of the things of Christ

TKK INCAKNATION OF CUIUST.

101

and show them to you? Docs he witness to you of
your own personal adoption into the family of God ? If
you hesitate to say that, can you say, as the old woman
in Scotland said, when questioned npon the fact of her
adoption : "I can say this; cither 1 am changed or the
world is changed." Can you say that? Has the
cautery begun its work? Is the proud flesh getting
eaten out by the live coal from the altar? Are you
ceasing to do evil and learning to do well — bringing
forth fruits meet for repentance ? Do you hate sin with
ever-increasing hatred, and press forward to the cultiva-
tion of the things that are of good report and lovely ?
Alas 1 it will be sad for you if the incarnation of Christ
should be to you a mystery forever, if there be no light
coming upon his purposes, no experience of the fulfill-
ment of them in your o-.rn hearts. Oh, seek first the
kingdom of God and his righteousness. Hallow this
dedicatory service by the dedication of your own hearts
to God. Let there be this sacrifice, a living sacrifice,
holy and acceptable, which is your reasonable service.

• li

;;. ri )■

VI.

ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CIIRISl.

.'For whether wc be beside ourselves, it is to God: or v^hether we bo
sober, it is for your cause. For the love of Christ coostraineA us; be-
cause we thus judge, that if one died for aU, then were »» ^-^j -*
that i.e died for all, that they who live should not henceforth J.v unto
themselves, but unto him who died for them, and rose aga.n. -2 Cob.
V. 13-16.

It is always an advantage for the advocate of any
particular cause to know the tactics of his adversary^
He will be the better prepared for the onset, and repel
the attack the n.orc easily. Forewarned of danger he
^vill intrench himself in a position from which it will be
impossible to dislodge him. The Apostle Paul pos-
Bcssed this advantage in a very eminent degree. In the
earlier years of his apostleship, the Jew and the Greek
were the antagonists with whom he had to contend.
Ilavin.^ been himself a member of the straitcst sect of
the Jews, he knew full well the antipathy with which
tliey regarded anything which set itself by its simplicity
in contrast with their magnificent ritual; and he knew
also the haughty scorn with which they turned away
from what they deemed the unworthy accessories of tho
i«s

" U^,r.rt? •-«*'**'■

^ =T" .V-, -il*'*^***^'-'*'*^**

ZKAL IN TlIK OAUSli: OK OIIUIBT.

1G3

OF cimisi.

9 to God: or whether we bo
' Christ constraineth us ; be-
all, then were all dead ; and
lulJ not henceforth live unto
im, and rose again."— 2 Cob.

• the advocate of any
ctlcs of Ills adversary
)r tlic onset, and repel
■ewarned of danger, he
1 from which it will be
he Ai-ostle Panl pos-
minent degree. In the
the Jew and the Greek
m he had to contend,
of the straitcst sect of
! antipathy with which
it itself by its simplicity
nt ritual ; and he knew
liich they turned away
rorthy accessories of tho

Nazarene. And, well read as ho was in classic litera-
ture, and acquainted with all the Jiabits and tendencies
of the Grecian mind, he could readily understand how
the restraints of the Gospel would be deemed imperti-
nent by the voluptuous Corinthian, and how the
philosophic Athenian Avould brand its teachers mad.
And yet, rejoicing in the experimental acquaintance
with the Gospel, he says, for his standing-point of ad-
vantage : " "We preach Christ crucified, to the Jews a
stumbling-block and to the Greeks foolishness, but to
them that are called, the power of God and the wisdom
of God." And in tho words of the text, addressing
some of those very Corinthians upon whom the Gospel
had exerted its power, he seems to accept the stigma
and vindicate the glorious madness : " For whether wo
be beside ourselves, it is to God: or whether we be
eober it is for your cause. For the love of Christ con-
straineth us ; because we thus judge, that if one died
for all, then were all dead: and that he died for all,
that they who live should not henceforth live unto them-
selves, bvt unto him who died for them, and rose again.''
The great purpose of the Apostle in these words is to
impress upon us the fact that the cause of Christ in tho
world, sanctioned by the weight of so many obligations,
fraught with the destinies of so many millions, should
be furthered by every legitimate means ; that for it, if
necessary, should be employed the soberest wisdom;
and for it, if necessary, the most impassioned zeal. IIo
vindicates the use of zeal in tho cause of Christ by the

164 ZKAI' «N TlIK CAIISK DK VlUilST.

three IbUoAving c .noiderationB : First, fro.u tl.o conO^
tion of the ^orld ; Becondly, from the ohbgut-ons of he
Church; .lul, thu-dly, from the nmstermotive ot the
Saviour's cou.rainin, h>ve. To iUustrate aud enforce
this apostolic argu,neut, as not uuarproprunte o tl c
objeet^-hich has called us together, ^vdl be our buM-
ness for a few brief iiionicnts to-night.

I ^riic Apostle argues and enforces the use of zeal m
the'cause of Christ, in the first place, from Tr • coKDmox
o. THK woK.i>. The Apostle speaks ot the world us in a
state of spiritual death. He argues the umversahty of
this spiritual death from the universality of the atone-
,nent of Christ. " For the love of Chnst constrame^
us, because we thus judge, that if one died for all, then
.V re all dead "-dead in sin, with every viee hixuriant
and every virtue languishing; doad in law judicially
in the grasp of the avenger ; nay, " condemned already,
.„d Urstening to the second death. We need not re-
„;ind you that this is by no means the world s estimate
of its own condition. It is short-sighted, and, therefore,
self-complacent. There is a veil over its eye ; there .s
a delusion at its heart. In that delusion it iancies itself
enthroned and stately, like some poor lunatic, an
i„.aginary monarch under the inflictions of ats keeper
The discovery of its true position comes on y when th
,uind is enlightened from on high. " We thus judge,
not because there is in us any intuitional sagacity or
any prophetical foresight, by which our judgmen .a
,„ade more accurate than the judgment of others; but

(■ i;llKI8T.

irst, from tlio condi-
thc obligations of the
mastci- motive of the
ilhistratc and enforce

inappropriate to the
licr, will he our busi-
ight.

rces the use of zeal in
ice, from ti' • condition
iks of the world as in a
lies the universality of
Lvevsality of the utone-

of Christ constraineth
if one died for all, then
th every vice luxuriant
dfad in law, judicially
, « condemned already,"
,eath. We need not re-
ans the world's estimate
t-sighted, and, therefore,
il over its eye ; there is
delusion it fancies itself
;ome poor lunatic, an
inflictions of its keeper,
on comes only when the
crli. "We thus judge,"
Y intuitional sagacity, or

which our judgment is
judgment of others; but

ZEAL m THE CAUSE OF CHRIST.

165

the Holy Spirit has come down, has wrought upon us —
has shown us the plague of our own hearts— and from
the death within wo can the better argue the dcatli
whiclx exists around. And that this is the actual con-
dition of the world. Scripture and experience combine
to testify. Tlie Bible, with comprehensive impartiality,
concludes all "under sin ;" represents mankind as a seed
of evil-doers—" children that are corrupters ;"— sheep
that have wandered away from the Shepherd and Bishop
of their souls. In tlie adjudication of Scripture there is
no exemption from this common character of evil, and
from this common exposure to danger. The man of
merciful charities, and the woman of abandoned life —
the proudest peer, and the vilest serf in his barony — the
moralist observer of the decalogue, and the man-slayer,
red with blood, all are comprehended in the broad and
largo denunciation: "Yo were by nature children of
wrath, even as others." And out in the broad world,
wherever the observant eye travels, you have abundant
confirmation of the testimony of Scripture. You have
it in your own history. Tlie transgressions and sins
which constitute this moral death abound in our age no
less than in any former age of mankind. Tliere arc
thousands around you who revel in undisguised corrup-
tion. There are thousands more externally reputable
who have only a name to live. You have this confirm-
ation in the nations of the Continent — some safely bound
by the superstition of ages ; others subsiding into a re-
actionary skepticism. You have this confirmation

1G6 ZEAL IN THK CAUSE OF CDBIST.

further away in tlic countries which own Mohammedan
rule, and cherish the Mohammedan's dream- where you
have unbridled lust, and a tiger's thirst for blood. You
have this confirmation in the far-off regions of heathen-
ism proper, where the nature, bad in itself, is made a
thousand-fold worse by its religion-where the man is
the prey of every error, and the heart the slave of every
cruelty— where men live in destruction, and where men
die in despair. Travel where you will, visit the most
distant regions, and search nnder the shadow of the
hi-hesi civilization-penetrate into the depths of those
primeval forests, into whose original darkness you might
have imagined the curse would hardly penetrate, and
the result is uniformly the same. Death is everywhere.
You see it, indeed, in all its varieties; now in the rare
and fading beauty which it wears just after the spirit
has fled from the clay, when its repose seems the worn-
out casket, which the sonl has broken, and thrown away ;
now, when there is shed over it a hue of the sublime,
and it is carried amid tears to burial; and now, when
corruption has begun its work, and its ill odor aftccts
. the neighborhood, and spreads the pestilence— you see
it in all its varieties, but uniformly death is there. We
gather from our melancholy pilgrimage no vestige of
spiritual life. Mourners go about the streets, and there
are mourners over many tombs.

Although, as we have observed just now, a thorough
and realizing estimate of the world's condition comes
only when the judgment is enlightened from on high,

tc
hi

I'i
rn
ir
ri
m

P<
h

Pl
m

111

b£
CO

it.

V OOBIST.

5I1 own Mohammedan
n's dream— where you
thirst for blood. You
>ff regions of heathen-
id in itself, is made a
3n — where the man is
cart the slave of every
action, and where men
ou will, visit the most
ier the shadow of the
ato the depths of those
nal darkness you might
L hardly penetrate, and
Death is everywhere,
■ieties ; now in the rare
irs just after the spirit
repose seems the wom-
oken, and thrown away ;
t a hue of the sublime,
burial ; and now, when
and its ill odor aftccts
the pestilence — ^you see
nly death is there. "We
ilgrimage no vestige of
)ut the streets, and there

•

ed just now, a thorough
world's condition comes
ilightened from on high,

ZEAL IN THK CAU8K OF CHRIST.

167

the wise men of the world, the minds that have iu all
ages towered above their follows, have felt an unsutisfac-
torlness for which they could hardly account; they Jiave
liad a vague and morbid conscioufncss that all was not
right somehow, cither with themselves or with their
race; they have met with disturbing forces, signs of
irregularity, tokens of misery and of sin that hare
rufllcd, Bomcwliat, the philosophic evenness of their
minds. Each in his own way, and from his own stand-
point, has guessed at the solution of the probleiii, and
has been ready witli a suggested remedy. The j^eoples
are imbruted ; educate them. The nations are bar-
barous; civilize them. Men grovel in Bciisual pleasure;
cultivate the aesthetic faculty; open Tip to them galleries
of pictures ; bring them under the humanizing influ-
ences of art. Men groan in bondage ; emancipate them,
and bid them be free ! Such are some of the tumul-
tuous cries that have arisen from earnest but blind
philanthropists, who have ignored the spiritual part of
man's nature, and forgotten altogether the Godw'ard
relations of his soul. All these, as might have been
expected, valuable enough as auxiliaries, worth some-
thing to promote the growth and comfort of a man when
life has been once imparted, fail, absolutely fail to
quicken the unconscious dead. In all cases the bed has
been shorter than that a man could lie on it, and the
covering narrower than that he could wrap himself in
it. The inbred death lay too deep for such supei-ficial
alchemy; corpses cannot by any possibility animate

108

ZKAL IN TUE 0AD8K OF CHKI8T.

corpses ; and the compassionate bystander from other
worlds, sickened with the many inventions, xnight be
constrained to cry, "Amid all this tumult of the human,
O for something Divine 1" And the Divine is given-
Christ has died for all men. There is hope for the
Avorld's life. This is a death whereby we live ; this is a
remedy commensurate with existing need, and intended
entirely to terminate and extinguish that need.

That squalid savage, whose creed is a perpetual
terror, and whoso life is a perpetual war— Christ hath
died for him. That fettered and despairing slave, into
whose soul the iron has entered, valued by his base
oppressor about on a par with the cattle he tends, or
with the soil he digs— Christ hath died for him. That
dark blasphemer, who lives in familiar crime, whose
tongue is set on fire of hell, whose expatriation would
be hailed by the neighborhood around him as a boon of
chiefest value— Christ has died for him. That dark
recluse, whom an awakened conscience harasses, and
who, in the vain hope of achieving merit by suffering,
wastes himself Avith vigilant penance well-nigh to the
grave— Christ has died for him. Oh, tell these tidings
to the world, and it will live. Prophesy of this name
in the motionless valley, and the Divine Spirit who
always waits to do honor to Jesus, will send the afflatm
from the four winds of heaven, and they shall leap into
life to his praise.

Now take these two points. Think, in the first place,
of the condition of the world— a condition so disastrous,

r
b

o
o
u
h

bi
w
el
a
fa

el
oi
in
Y
li<

8tS

i.xuSitfVAK^sas ■«-<Mii'-'"

J ■ i. -^^-wi.'J.ai.^f^-'-^^-^-wi*'^'^''^'-'^^

it. .ijnisate-te

CHKI6T.

j'staiulcr from other
iivcntions, iniglit bo
iiinult of tho human,
10 Divine is given —
ero 18 hope for the
by wo live ; this is a
g need, and intended
1 that need,
reed is a perpetual
lal war — Christ hath
Icspairing slave, into

valued by his base
cattle he tends, or

died for hira. That
iiniliar crime, whose
ic expatriation would
und him as a boon of
for him. That dark
science harasses, and
g merit by suffering,
a,nce well-nigh to the
Oh, tell these tidings
rophesy of this name
e Divine Spirit who
, will send the afflatm
d they eliall leap into

link, in the first place,
ondition so disastrous,

ZKAL IN THE CAD8K OF CDRIST.

16!)

that nothing but deatli can illustrate it-a condition
which prostrates every faculty, whioh smites tho body
with unnumbered cruelties, wJiich dwarfs tlie mind with
prejudices or distorts it into milioly passion, wl.ich
banishes tho soul and mind within a man in liopclcss
estrangement from liappiness and God ; and then think
of tho death of Christ, providing for the furthest need,
overtaking tho utmost exile, pouring its abundant life
upon tho sepulchred nations, diffusing Uglit, liberty,
hope, comfort, licavcn : and I appeal to your enlightened
judgment whether you are not bound, those of you who
believe in Jesus, to labor for tho world's conversion
with intensest energy and zeal. Oh, if temporal miseries
elicit sympathy, and prompt to help; if the anxieties of
a neighborhood gather around a drowning cliild, or are
fastened upon the rafters of a burning liouse, whore,
solitary and imploring, stands a single man, already
charred by the flame, how much of sympathy, of effort,
of liberality, of zeal, of prayer, are due to a world lying
in the wicked one, and panting after tho second death I
You wiU agree with me, that there is more than
liceDse for tho poet's words :

SilTftU «

" On such a theme,
•Tie impious to be calm !"

And you will rejoice— will you not ?— to take your
stand, to-night by the Apostle's side, and to cry, when
men deem your zeal impertinence and your efforts

ITO

ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST.

fanaticism, " If wo bo bcsido ourselves, it is to God :
and if we be sober, it is for your cause." ^ '

11. The Apostle argues the necessity for zeal in the
cause of Clirist, secondly, from the oblioatio.ns of the
ciiDUcn, in that ho died for all, that they should live—
should not henceforth live unto themselves, but for him
who died for them and rose again. Tlie Apostle's
argument is this— none of us has life in himself; if wo
live at all, we live by imparted life ; we live because
life has been drafted into our spirits from on high.
Then it is not our own ; it belongs to Him who has pur-
chased it for us with his own blood, and we are bound
to employ it in his service, and for his glory. This also
is the conclusion of an enlightened judgment. We
judge this as well as the other, and this is in accordance
with the whole tenor of Scripture. Time would fail us
to mention a tithe of the passages in which devotion—
the devotion of the heart and of the service of God, are
made matter of constant and of prominent demand. I
will just mention one passage that may serve as an
illustration of all : "I beseech you therefore, brethren,
by the mercies of God, that ye give your bodies as a
living sacrifice." Have you ever gauged the depth of
consecration that slumbers in the heart of those words^
" a living sacrifice ;" to bo absolutely and increasingly
devoted to God, as if the Icnifc were at the throat, and
the life-blood streamed forth in votive offering? Nay,
better than that ; because the life-blood could stream
out but once, but the living sacrifice may be a perpetual

itt

ris

coi

]

on(

del

ido

bri^

mei

nest

am]

havi

its J

kin^

iQer(

treac

in hi

learr

some

verte

benej

of op

CHRIST.

jlvcs, it is to God :

ise."

eity for zeal in tho

OBLIOATIO.N8 OF THE

they bliould live —
TiBclves, but for bim
lin. Tlie Apostle's
in himself; if wo
b ; we live because
iirits from on liigb.
to Ilim wbo has pur-
1, and wc are boimd
bis glory. This also
lied judgment. We

ibis is in accordance
Time would fail us

in wbich devotion —
le service of God, are
rominent demand. I
iiat may serve as an
ti therefore, brethren,
ivo your bodies as a

gauged the depth of
icart of those words —
itcly and increasingly
ere at the throat, and
otive offering ? Nay,
fe-blood could stream
ice may bo a perpetual

2KAL m TUK C A fare OS- CIIKI8T. 171

holocaust, repeated daily for a lifetimo-a living eacri-
fice, holy and aceeptablo unto God, M-hich h your
reasonable service. IVom tho doctrine of this pa...^o
and o numberless others kindred to it. it would appoJ
t ha iho regenerate heart is not at libeHv (o live IW
itse , nor to aun supren.ely at its own gra^iHcatlon ; It
must hvc or hnn who has "died for it, and who as
men agam." 1 ou cannot fail, I think, to perceive that
ompbanee wUh this exhortation is utterly antagonistic
to the ordmary procedure of mankind.

In an age of organization against idolatry, there is
one proud, rampant idolatry which retains its ascon
dency amongst us. Selfishness is the most patronized
idolatry m the world. It is the great image whose
brightness is exceeding terrible, and before which all
men bow; at is a throne, and an e.npire, and the like-
ness ot a kmgly orown ; it equips armies and mans
armaments to gratify its lust of power. Fastnesses
have been explored and caverns ransacked to appease
Its thirst for gold. It presides over the councils of
kmgs and over the diplomacy of cabinets; for it tho
merchantman grindeth down his manhood, fo. it tho
treader-under-foot of nations marcheth in his might and
in lus shame ; its votaries are of all handicrafts-of the
learned professions, and of every walk in life. It hath
sometimes climbed on to the judgment-seat, and per-
verted justice there. The cowled monk hath hidden it
beneath his robe, and it hath become for him an engine
of oppression, and it hath occasionally robed itself in

172

ZKAL IN TUB CAUbK OK ClIlilST.

holy vestments, and entered the priesfB oftk-o for n
morsol of hreiul. No f;raco nor virtue of huninnity \t^
free from Uh c(.nt!iininiiti..n. It has hrenthed, and
patriotism hiiB di-^'cnorutcd into partiBaneliip ; it has
hniitlied, nnd friendship has been Binudated for policy;
it has hreathe.l, and charity has been blemished by
ostentation ; it has breathed, nnd religion has been
counterfeited for gold ; Its sway is a despotism— its tcr-
rit(My wherever man hath trodden, and it is the undis-
puted anarch of the world. Now it is against this
principle in human nature, throned within us all,
doggedly contesting every inch of ground, that Christ-
ianity goes forth to combat. Tbo Gospel n])solutely
refuses to allow self to bo the governing power, nnd
assaults it in all its strongholds with precepts of
sublime morality. To the sellishnoss of avarice it goes
up boldly, even while the miser clutehcs his gold, and
Bays: "Give to him that asketh of thee, and from him
that woidd borrow of theo turn not thou away." To
the selfishness of anger it addresses itself, even when
the red spot is yet on the brow of the angry : » Let not
the sun go down upon thy wrath;" "Bless them that
curse you, pray for them that despitefully use you and
persecute you." To the selfishness of pride, even in its
haughtiness and arrogance, it says : " In honor prefer-
ring one another, be clothed with humility, let each
esteem another better than himself." To the selfishness
of indifteronce to the concerns of others, " Look not on
thins own things, but likewise upon the things of

V C1IUI8T.

ZKAt. lU TIIK ^.■.Vl.^l; MK ciiuir*r.

178

( priofit's oftico for n
virtue of Imiimuity it^
t has brtathed, and

partisnuBliip; it has

Bimiilatud for policy ;
8 been blemished by
nd religion has been
s ft despotism — its tor-
n, and it is the undis-
[ow it is against this
ironed within us all,
of ground, that Ohrist-
riio Gospel n1)solutely
goverirnig power, and
Ids -with precepts of
inoBH of avarice it goes

clutches his gold, and
of theo, and from him

not thou away." To
■esses itself, even when
•f the angry : " Let not
,th;" "Bless them that
espitcfully use you and
ess of pride, even in its
;av8 : " In honor T)refer-
vith humility, let each
elf." To the selfishness
3f others, " Look not on
se upon the things of

others;'' and to tlio Hclfishncau of kouIs iiiid oriiiiinal
neglect of tho great salvation, it h|ieaKrt in tones of
pathos whieli that must bo a callous heart that can
witlijitand, " Yo know the graces of our Lord Jesus
Clirist, who, though lie was rich, yet for our sins ho
became poor, that wv, through his juiverty, uiiglit bo
made rieli." Oh, how siaall, aloiigt-Ide of august and
heavenly precepts like, these, are the bubliuiest maxuns
of any merely ethical morality !

It is said that, once, during the performance of a
comedy in tho Roman theatre, one of tho actors gave
utterance to tho sentiment, "I am a man; nothing,
therefore, that is human, can be foreign to me," and the
audience wero so struck by tho disiiiterestcduoss, or so
charmed by the novelty, that they greeted it with thun-
ders of applause. How much greater wealth of kindly
wisdom and prompting to unscllish action lies hidden
in tho Gospel of Christ, shrined there as cvery-day
utterances passed by tho most of us very slightingly
by 1 Oh ! let there be anything like tho genial ])rac-
tice of this divine morality, and the world would soon
lose its aspect of desolation and of blood ; oppression and
over-reaching, and fraud and cruelty, wotild be frowned
out of tho societies of men, and this earth would bo
once more an ample and a peopled paradise. By
selfishness, as we have thus endeavored to describe it,
we mean that grasping, monopolizing spirit which gets
all and gives nothing ; heedful enough of its own f(jr-
tunes, careless of the concerns and interests of others.

174

ZKAL IN TUK CALriK OK C11KI8T.

Tlus is the principle in our nature wlucU Cln.Btmm ty
opposes, and with which it ceaselessly wage^ war. I^ut
there is a sort of selfishness which, for the sake of d.^
tinction, we n.ay call self-love, which is i-tu.ct.ve -d
therefore innocent-that merciful provision hj wh li
.ve are prompted to the care of our own hves and to ho
avoidance of everything that woidd disquiet or abridge
them. This principle in our nature Christianity encou-
rages; to this priticiple Christianity addresses i sel ,
and hence it has connected, married m indissoluble
union, man's ehiefest duty and man's highest pleasure.
Godliness is profitable unto all things, having the pro-
mise of the life that now is. AVhat has the dark, mor-
bid, unhappy sensualist to do with it ? Godliness hath
the promise of the life " that no'.v is," as well as that
which is to come." In keeping thy commandments
there is a present reward. » Take my yoke upon you
and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and
ye shall find rest unto your souls ; for my yoke as easy
and my burden is light." "In thy presence there a.
fullness of joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures
for evermore." Just as it is in man's physical organiza
tion, and its adaptation to the material world aroum
him, when body and mind arc alike in health, we cai
neither eat, nor drink, nor talk, nor walk, nor sleep, no
sing, nor perform any of the commonest actions of life
without a sensation of pleasure ; so it is in the spiritus
life : there is pleasure in its every motion. There i
pleasure even in the sting of penitence ; it is „rf.i -o

: CALfiK OK UIIKIST.

onr nature whicli Christianity

it ceaselessly wages war. But
ness which, for the sake of dis-
f-lovc, which is instinctive, and
t merciful provision by which
care of our own lives and to the
r that would disquiet or abridge
II our nature Christianity encou-
[e Christianity addresses itself;
aected, married in indissoluble
iity and man's highest pleasure,
into all things, having the pro-
,w is. AVhat has the dark, nior-
t to do with it ? Godliness hath
" that no-.v is," as well as " that
In keeping thy commandments
ird. " Take my yoke upon you
am meek and lowly in heart, and

your souls ; for my yoke is easy
ht." "In thy presence there is
Y right hand there arc pleasures
IS it is in man's physical organiza-
on to the material world around
mind are alike in health, we can
, nor talk, nor walk, nor sleep, nor

of the commonest actions of life,
■ pleasure ; so it is in the spiritual
re in its every motion. There is
iting of penitence; it is , ^doi r/li

■;[

ZKAL W TIIK CAUSIC OF CUKIST.

" A godly grief and pleasing smart,
That nieUing of a brolicn heart."

175

Tliere is pleasure in the performance of duty ; there is
pleasure in the enjoyment of privilege ; there is pleasure
in the overcoming of temptations, a grand thrill of
hapiMness to see trampled under foot a vanquished lust
or slain desire ; there is pleasure in the exercise of bene-
volence ; there is pleasure in the importunity of prayer.
Hence it is that the Apostle seeks to rivet the sense of
personal obligation by the remembrance of personal
benefit. " We thus judge, that he died for all, that
tliey which live should not henceforth live unto them-
selves, but unto liim who " — owns tliem ? ISTo. Claims
them ? Ko. Will judge them ? Xo ; but—" to him
who died for them and rose again." Gratitude is to be
the best prompter to our devotion. Tlioso who live to
Christ, those who live by Christ, will not tamely see his
altars forsaken, his Sabbaths desecrated, his name blas-
phemed, the blood of the covenant Avhei'cwith he was
sanctified accounted an unholy thing. Brethren, are
you of that happy family ? Have you obtained life
from the dead through his name? Tlien von are bound
to spend it for his honor, and, watching with godly
jealousy for every possible opportunity of doing good,
to spend and be spent for them who have not yet your
Master known. I call on j'ou to answer this invocation ;
it belongs to you. There is no neutrality, believe me,
in this war — and if there be some of you that would
like to be dastardly and half-hearted trimmers, you will

176

ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OK CUBIST.

find by and by that you have got the hottest place m
the battle, exposed to the cross-fire from the artillery of
both parties. I call on you decisively to-inght to
answer this invocation. Call up before your minds the
benefits you have individually received; think of the
blessings M-hich the death of Christ has procured for
von-thc removal of the blighting curse >vhich elui-
dowed all your life, the present sense of pardon,
mastery over self and over sin, light in the day of your
activity, and songs in the night of your travail; the
teaching Spirit to lead you into still loftier knowledge,
and the sanctifying spirit to impress upon you the
image of tlie heavenly; that Divine fellowship which
lio-htens the present, and that majestic hope which
iiTakes tlie future brighter far. Think of the benefits
which the resurrection of Christ has conferred upon
you- li-ht in the shadowed valley, the last enemy
destroyed, support amid the swellings of Jordan, a
guide upon the hither side of the flood, angehc wel-
comes, the King in his beauty, and " a house not made
with hands, eternal in the heavens." And then, as the
sum of favor is presented, and gratitude arises and the
fire burns, and the heart is full, and the frame (luivers
,vith the intensity of its emotions, just remember that
there is a world lying in the wicked one, that there arc
multitudes, thousands upon thousands, in your own
city, at your own doors, for whom the Saviour died,
who never heard his name; that there are multitudes
for whom he has abolished death Avho have never felt

)H' CUBIST.

t the hottest place in
•e from the artillery of
decisively to-night to
before your minds the
received ; think of the
irist has procured for
ting curse which elui-
sent sense of pardon,
ight in the day of your
it of your travail ; the
still loftier knowledge,
impress upon you the
)ivine fellowship which
; majestic hope which
Think of the benefits
•ist has conferred upon
valley, the last enemy
swellings of Jordan, a
f the flood, angelic wel-
and " a house not made
?ens.'' And then, as the
gratitude arises and the
1, and the frame (luivers
ons, just remember that
ieked one, that there arc
thousands, in your own
whom the Saviour died,
hat there are multitudes
;ath who have never felt

ZEAL IN THE CAL'SK OF OHKIST.

177

his resurrection's power. Let your tears flow ; better,
far better a tear for God's sake and the world's sake
than the hard-heartedness and darkness of sin. Lift up
your voice in the midst of tliem ; lift it up, be not
afraid. Say unto the cities of Judah, " Behold your
God." Men will call you mad, but you can give them
the Apostle's answer, « If we be beside ourselves, it is
to God • if we be sober, it is for your cause."

m. The Apostle argues the necessity of zeal in the
cause of Christ, in tlie third place, from the master
motive of the Saviour's constraining love. "The
love of Christ constraineth us"— forces us along, car-
ries us away as with the impetuosity of a torrent, or
rather as when cool heavens and favoring air speed the
vessel steadily to the haven. Love is at once man's
most powerful motive and his highest inspiration, both
in the life that now h and tliat which is to come. From
love to Christ spring the most devoted obedience, the
most untiring efforts in his service. There are other
springs of action, I know, by which men are influenced
to a profession of religion. Interest can occasionally
affect godliness from sordid aims, and behave itself
decorously amid the respectabilities of tie temple-going
and alms-giving religion; but it will give its arm to
any man that goes down to the house of Eimraon ; and
if there is a decree that at the sound of all kinds of
music they are to fall down before another image which
has been erected in the plains of Dura, they will be the
most obsequious benders of the knee. Men sometimes

178

ZKAL IN THE 0AU8E OF CHRIST.

practise obedience under the influence of fear. A Bud-
den visitation, a prevailing epidemic, an alarming ap-
peal, will strike into momentary concern; but when
the indignation is overpast, and the craven soul has
recovered from its paroxysms of terror, there will often
be a relapse into more than the former atrocities of evil.
Convictions of duty may and sometimes will induce a
man, Hko an honest Pharisee of the olden time, to ob-
serve rigidly the enactments of the law ; but there will
be no heart in his obedience, and no holy passion in his
soul; but let the love of God be shed abroad in his
heart by the Holy Ghost given unto him, let there be
a perception of love in God, let there be sight of the
Crucified as well as of the cross, and there will be dis-
interested, and cheerful, and hearty obedience. Zeal
for God will become at once a passion and a principle,
intensifying every purpose into ardor, and filling the
whole soul with the vehemence of absorbing desire.
This is the emotion from whose natural and inevitablb
outflow the Apostle vindicates impassioned zeal.

Opinions are divided ,is to whether the constraining
love spoken of in the text, refers to Christ's love to us
or to our love to him, which the sense of his love has
enkindled in the soul. I do not think we can go far
wrong if we take both meanings, inasmuch as no prin-
ciple of exposition is violated, and as we need the pr-s-
sure of a combination of motive, that we may be zeal-
ously affected always in this good thing. Ye, then, it
there are any of you here who need rousing to energy

OF cnuisT.

ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF CHRIST.

179

uence of fear. A Bud-
lemic, an alarming ap-
ry concern; but when
d tlie craven Boul has

terror, there will often
(briner atrocities of evil,
ometimes will induce a
[' the olden time, to oh-
tho law ; but there will
d no holy passion in his

be shed abroad in his
L unto him, let there be
Dt there be sight of the
s, and there will be dis-
hearty obedience. Zeal

passion and a principle,
to ardor, and filling the
ice of absorbing desire.
e natural and inevitablb
impassioned zeal,
whether the constraining
fers to Christ's love to us
;he sense of his love has
not think we can go far
igs, inasmuch as no prin-

aud as we need the pr~s-
Lve, that we may be zeal-
good thing. Ye, then, if
lO need rousing to energy

in the service of Christ, think of his love to you ; how
rich its manifestations, and how unfeigned ; how all
other love of which it is possible for you to conceive
shrinks in the comparison ! There have been develop-
ments in the histories of years of self-sacrificing afiec-
tion, which has clung to the loved object amid hazard
and Buflforing, and which has been ready even to ofier
up life in its behalf. Orestes and Pyladcs, Damon and
Pythias, David and Jonathan, what lovely episodes
their histories give us amid a history of selfishness and
sin ! Men have canonized them, partly because such
instances are rare, and partly because they are like a
dim hope of redemption looming from the ruins of the
fall. We have it on inspired authority, indeed, " Greater
love hath no man than this" — this is the highest point
v.Msh man can compass, this is the culminating point
of that afiection which man can by possibility attain,
the apex of his loftiest pyramicl goes no higher than
this — " greater love hath no man than this, that a man
lay down his life for his friend ; but God commendeth
his love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners
Christ died for us." A brother has sometimes made
notable efforts to retrieve a brother's fortunes, or to
blanch his sullied honor ; but there is a Friend that
sticketh closer than a brother. A father has bared his
breast to shield his offspring from danger;, and a mother
would gladly die for the offspring of her wor,ib ; but a
I father's affection may fail in its strength, and yet more
rarely a mother's in its tenderness.

180

ZEAL IN TUE CAD9S OF CHRIST.

"I saw an aged woman, bowed ...

'Mill weariness and caro ;
Time wrote in Borrow on her brow,

And 'mid her frosted hair.

.' What was it that liltc sunbeam clear
O'er her wan features ran,
As, pressing toward her deafened ear,

I named her absent son?

fi;

I? liJici

..What-vasit? Ask a mother's breast,
Through which a fountain flows.
Perennial, fathomless, and blest.
By winter never froze.

'<.-\r:'.:> i^f-P
nv.7 ot §u:l

fc^a

» What was it? Ask the King of kings,
Who hath decreed above.
What change should mark all earthly thmgs
Except a mother's love 1"

Hiii

And " can a «mun fo.got her Bucking chiia, U.at slo

?:::: "Xea G«a, ... ^^^ .» i-^a ™^d

! V-. <s„n to be a propitiation for our .ins. ^"^^
Thar've^lor-Hcl desertion codd not abate-

loyewBicn B ^^^^1^ ^^^^ ^^ a^

2r ovelhS: for ereatnre. batefnl and bating one
riber Itooped .; incarnation, and .nffer^ -. - 1
embraced death, and shrank not even from the loaft
sleness and from the hnmiliation of bur.al ; and then,

,F CUBIST.

ZEAL IN TBB 0AU8K OF cnRIST.

181

sr brow,
r.

eafcned ear,
?

rk all earthly things
el"

I'll. ' ' \ -' ^''

earn clear , <,^! ,» [ni^^i
■"' ;,:{: y^rJ

,.7 nt S£'.:"

Iher'a breast, ^^ j, : ^^j j j jfi
ain flows, ^ ^_^^ .^ .^ ^.^^:
d blest, J

King of kings, • ^.,q,j.-,j

;r Bucking child, tl.at sbo
on the sou of her womb?
U I not forget thee." O
ieclaretheei "Herein is
but that he loved us, and
tion for our sins." Think
isertion could not abate—
. not abate— which treach-
vhich death could not de-
ires hateful and hating one
ion, and suffered want, and I

k not even from the loath-
iliation of burial ; and then,

with brimming eye, and lieart that is full, and wonder
" Why such love to me ?" you will indeed be xmgratc-
ful if you are not stirred by it to an energy of consecra-
tion and endeavor, which may well seem intemperate
zeal to the cool reckoners with worldly wisdom. Then
take tho other side of the argument ; take it as refer-
ring to your love to Christ, which tho sense of his love
has enkindled in the soul. The deejocst affection in the
believing heart will always be the love of Jesus. Tho
love of home, the love of friends, the love of letters,
the love of rest, the love of travel, and all else, are
contracted by the side of this master-passion. " A little
deeper," said one of the veterans of the first Napoleon's
old guard, when they were probing in his bosom for a
bullet that had mortally wounded him, and he thought
they were getting somewhere in the region of the heart
— "a little deeper and you will find the Emperor."
Engraven on the Christian's heart deeper than all other
love of home or friends, with an ineffaceable impression
that nothing can erase, you find the loved name of Jesus.
Oh ! let this affection impel us, and who shall measure
our diligence or repress our zeal ? Love is not bound
by rule ; there is no law that can bind it ; it is never
below the precept, it is always up to the precept, but
it always has a margin of its own. It does not calcu-
late, with mathematical exactitude, with how little of
obedience it can escape penalty and secure recompense ;
like its Master it gives lu princely style ; it is exuberant
in its manifestations; there is always enough and to

182 ZKAL IN THE CAOSK OF ClIRISr.

Bpare. And if meaner motive can prompt to heroic
action-if from pure love of science astronomers can
cross ocean familiarly, and dare encounter dangers just
that they may watch in distant climes the trans, ot a
planet across the disc of the sun-and if botamsts can
travel into inhospitable climes and sojourn among m-
hospitable men, only to gather specimens ot the>r gor-
gcous flora-and if, with no motive but love of country,
tnd no recompense save bootless tears and an undymg
name, a WiUoughby could sacrifice himself to blow J
a magazine, and a Sarkeld could fire the Cashmere Gate
at Delhi, surely we, with obligations an comparably
higher, with the vows of profession on our hps, with
death busy in the midst of us, and souls gomg down
from our doors into a joyless and blasted immortality,
ought to present our life-blood, if need be, for the cause
of Christ; and for the good of souls. Let the scoffers
Bpurn at us as they will; we are far superior to such
poor contumely. Heaven applauds our enthu«msm and
L can vindicate it in the Apostle's words : "If w be
beside ourselves, it is to God; and if we be sober, it ib
for vour cause.

, ,, , ■oys.Mj B ■'•Oi: a..

' .. . ■»■-• -. ' i

CHRIST.

,n prompt to heroic
nee astronomefs can
counter dangers, just
limes the transit of a
-and if botanists can
,d sojourn among in-
ecimens of tlieir gor-
but love of country,
tears and an nndying
ce himself to blow up
ire the Cashmere Gate
gations incomparably
iion on our lips, with
and souls going down
d blasted immortality,
' need be, for the cause
louls. Let the scoflFers
:e far superior to such
ids our enthusiasm, and
stle's words: "If we be
ind if we be sober, it is

.1.11, ,;:■ Ui:'il''^'33,

VII.

THE OHRISTIiSJN'S INUERITANCE.

>■ i ! ti

"■Whom have I in heaven but thee ? and there is none upon earth that
I desire beside thee. My flesh and my heart failcth : but God is the
strength of my heart, and my portion forever." — Psalm Ixxiii. 25, 26.

"My flesh and my heart faileth." Who does not
understand that? It is the common lot — the uniform
and continual experience of the race. " The voice said.
Cry. And he said, "What shall I cry? All flesh is
grass, and all the goodlinesa thereof is as the flower of
the held ; the grass withereth, the flower fadeth, because
the spirit of the Lord bloweth npon it ; surely the peo-
ple is grass." Tliis announcement of mortality, coming
thus solemnly in a voice from heaven, finds its echo in
the experience of mortals themselves ; for however they
may attempt to disguise it — with whatever study, per-
eeverance, and hypocrisy they may conceal their feel-
ings — ^it is an undeniable and startling truth that the liv-
ing know that they must die. Death, my brethren, is a
theme of mighty import. Eloquence has been exhausted
upon the wide-spread magnitude of its desolation ; there
is not a place where human beings congregate which
does not tell them that they are mortal. Is it a family ?

188

t84 TIIK CUUISTUn'b INIIKBITANOK.

Death entcvB and makes houBeUold memories painful
and u"H hon.c into the dwelling of the .tranger. Is t

1 ge'noLlon comes upon the heoU of --oi^'-'^^^
bone, of our father, form tUo dust on wb.ch we tread
And «., strange to .ay, there is an ■"»-' '•»7-
Meslnel. npon the .uhject, and the .ayu.g of the poet
Boem.well-nigUtoheYeriaed,that .. ■■ . .«„ ,.»■..

" AU men ll.mk all men morW bu. Iteni.cl.o..-

Look at the man of the world-doc. not he «em a.
if ho thought ho .hould Uveforever-asrf ho thought
Iw r.he paltry, peri.hablo matter, with wh.eh he
happen, to be .«rr.undod. Circum.tance. may mdeed
^rlnd then oceur in hi. hl.tory whieh may compel a
CltreeognitionofotemityhUeyemay^^r^
«,t upon the Bihlo, or a funeral proee..ion may cro«
S paA a. he walk, the .treet. of the eity, or a p.«.,ng
be, with it. Blow and .olemn tolling, m.yhr.ak .«1-
r y upon hi. ear, and the thought oome. on h,. mmd
for a moment that there may po..ibly ho .uch a th.ng
t del But it was hut for a moment, it wa. a .tray
1 ought of etemity-onowho«, «ivauee. are at ouee
foAidden a. an unwelcome intruder, ho wa. ruffled foi

CBITANCK.

old memories painful,
; of the stranger. Is it
Btirriii- tlirong AvhicU
aces that meet the eye,
oar. Is it a congrega-
uy ? Tlie prophets, do
II Every tliirty years
continual suporcession ;
leels of another, and the
list on which we tread,
is an almost universal
d the saying of the poet
that ,:.

TtlK CUKIsTIA.N H INIIKUHANCK.

185

tal but tliemsclvcB.

a— docs not he seem as
orever-as if ho thought
, matters with which he
ircumstances may indeed
tory which may compel a
ity: his eye may perhaps
eral procession may cross
ts of the city, or a passing
,1 tolling, may break sud-
liought comes on his mind
Y possibly be such a thing
a moment; it was a stray
ose advances are at once
Qtruder ; he was ruffled for

awhile — taken aback for an instant — but time i)aHrictl
away, and ho has boconic as still, and as slunibcriiijr,
and as senseless aa before. I'rctliren, wo nii|jlit rebuke
that insensibility from the records of ancient history.
It is recorded of Alexander, the conqueror of one worUI,
that lie wept because there was no other world to con-
quer. Alas! men now-a-days have sadly dcf^eiierated ;
they have no such ambition, they mourn over no such
cause of grief. However, there is, brethren, whether
men reck of it or not, there is another world to conquer.
The battle is not with the confused noise of war, or gar-
ments rolled in blood ; the enemies are not flesh and
blood, but principalities and powers, and the rulers of
the darkness of this world, and spiritual wickedness in
high places. Tlie prize is not an earthly crown, but a
kingdom of whose brilliancy the Macedonian never
knew. Yet many never enter this battle-field, and
many who do, after a few brief and ineffectual struggles,
grow tired, and ingloriously lay down their arms. Bre-
thren, we are anxious that you should not be thus
cowardly in the day of battle ; we would have you quit
yourselves like men and be strong ; and we know of
nothing that is better calculated to arouse your forti-
tude and bring into play that high and fearless heroism
which we are exhorted by the Apostle to add to our
faith, than the consolation of the words of the text,
bringing before us, as they do, the Christian's personal
inheritance, and hope, and future prospects : " Whom
have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon

1R9

■IIIK CUKISi'IAN'ri INIIKHITANCK.

ouith that I ilcHiru bceido tlieo. My ilcsh and my hcnrt
failcth : but God is tl.c Btrength of iny heart, and my
portiiHi lorover."

AVo nocd not Bpt'iid tiino in on<lcftvoring to prov • (o
you. that it irt one characteristic of the wicked thi't,
•'God i:. not in nil his thonglits." Ho may not go so
fur U9 '.i''nly to deny cither \m being or uitelligencc,
but could you ./^irch his heart you would discover it to
bo a matter of tLo suprcmest indiftcrcuce. A faint
whisper of the Divine existence never obtnides itself
into his schemes, whether of aggranJizemcnt or plea-
sure; and ho is content, so far as ho is concern •-', to
enjoy tho nncarcd-for inheritance of this world. Nny,
oftentimes hia presumption is more galling and flagrant
still: aspiring to U; his own deii v, he pays homage to
himself, and with Eastern devotoi. d' < i he worship at
tho shrino of his idol.

How, then, was this stray spirit to bo won back to
God ? This waB tho question v juch en gttged the Divine
attention, and the answer to which became to tho
angelic host a mutter of ni} nlery and wonder. Tlio law
was undoubtedly powerless; it had been broken, its re-
quirements flagrantly violated, and wherever man went
it proscribed him a fugitive and a rebel. Moreover, it
is the tendency of the law rather to irritate than to heal
—rather to beget unfriendliness than tenderness toward
the law-giver in the breast of the criminal. Hence you
may bring God before the sinner's mind in his character
of a God of judgment; yon may manifest to the sinner

IKRITANCK.

My flcBh and my honrt
I of iny heart, and my

iidcavoring to i>rov • {n
tic of tlio wicked tluit,
i." Ho may not go so
» being or intelligence,
you would discover it to
indiftcr^iico. A faint
30 never obtnides itself
lo-ffranJizcmcnt or plea-

• na ho is concoi*n 'K to
ICO of this world, ^'.ly,
loro galling and flagrant
e;i y, ho pays homage to
)fio!i d'M J he worship at

i].i)'it to bo won back to
Jiicii eiigttged the Divine
1 sv'liich became to the
ly and wonder. Tlio law
t had been broken, its re-
, and wherever man went
nd a rebel. Moreover, it
ler to irritate than to heal
S3 than tenderness toward
the criminal. Hence you
ler's mind in liis character
lay manifest to the sinner

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r
r

THE UIIUISTIAn's INIIICIUTANCK.

187

the frowns of his angry countenance ; you may collect
all the arguments of terror which language can gather,
and you may arm these arguments of terror with addi-
tional energy hy descanting on the thunder of his
power ; you may set hefore him the horrible spectacle
of his own impending death, and the unknown horrors
of that eternity which is on the other side ; you may
disquiet him with all these appliances (and it is quite
right he should be disquieted); you may induce a
partial reformation of life and character (and it is neces-
sary that he should reform) ; you may set him trembling
at the power of the lawgiver (and a thousand times
rather let him tremble than sleep) ; but where, in the
midst of all this, is there obedience to the first and great
commandment ? Is the love of C4od shed abroad in his
heart ? lias it dawned upon the darkness of his mind ?
has its gentle influence acted like a salutary and com-
posing charm over his alarmed breast ? No ; all your
appliances have failed, there has been no conviction im-
planted except the conviction of fear. Tlie thunders of
executive justice and the power of judicial vengeance
have failed to impress his heart ; there it is, like a fortress,
firm, impregnable, granite-like on its adamantine rock ;
and that which was intended to draw the soul into closer
communion to God, has only driven him to a more hope-
less distance from God. How, then, was this stray
spirit to be won back to God? Oh, brethren, "what
the law could not do, in that it was weak through the
flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful

188

THK christian's INllKKITANCE.

fleeli"— mark the words; not in the rcalUy of sinful,
but in the likeness of sinful, though in reality of human
_-" in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned
hin in the fleslu" I'.y the mvsterious incarnation of the
Mi<-hty One all diiiieulties were reniuvcd. The dignity
of "the throne remained unsullied, while the milder
beams of mercy were made to tail upon it; and God
could at once be just, and yet the free and generous
juBtifier of them that believe in Jesus. Tlie all-com-
prising ollering of the Saviour's blood made at once an
atonement, an at-one-ment between God and man. The
moment the man exercises faith in Christ the reconcilia-
tion is complete. The Lord is his defence; the holy
one of Israel his refuge; and he who a while ago was
an alien, unredeemed and desolate-a worthy companion
of the beast in his lair, a flt follower on the serpent's
trail— is now clothed, in his right mind, careering along
in the enterprise of godliness, a feliow-citizen of saints
and of the household of God. And this brings us im-
mediately to speak of our present meditation, God as
the recompense of the believing soul. " Whom have I
in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that
I desire beside thee."

We find three thoughts, my dear brethren, which
tend forcibly to impress this matter upon our minds.
I. In the first place, God is the Chuistia>''8 iniiekit-

ANCE A3 THE LIGHT OF HIS INTKLLKCT. There is nothing

for which man is more accountable than for his pos-
session of mind— for bis improvement and abuse of

IKKITANCE.

a the Tcalify of sinful,
iigh ill realiry of human
, and for sin, condemned
rious inearnation of the

removed. Tlie dignity
lied, while the milder

fall upon it; and God
t the free and gencrons
in Jesus. Tlie all-com-
5 blood made at once an
reen God and man. The
I in Christ the reconcilia-
8 his defence; the holy

he who a while ago was
■ite— a worthy companion
follower on the serpent's
■ ht mind, careering along
, a feliow-citizen of saints
And this brings us im-
esent meditation, God as
Iff soul. " Whom have I
! is none upon earth that

THE CHKISTIAn's INIIKKrrANCK.

189

ny dear brethren, which
natter upon our minds.

8 THE ChUISTIA>''8 INIIEBIT-

liLLKCT. There is nothing
un table than for his pos-
provement and abuse of

those powers with which the mind is gifted. It is a
beneficent gift from a beneficent J>cing, but, then, by
])artaking of the nature of the immortal, it entails upon
him the responsibilities of an immortal also. Few arc
the subjects which it cannot penetrate ; difliculties but
urge it to a course of loftier eftbrts, and, like the
avalanche of snow, it gains additional nionientum from
the obstacles that threaten to impede it. Our position
is this : Mind never finds its level, never finds its rest,
until it is fixed upon the things above; active, inquiring,
speculative, impassioned ; like the eagle towering from
his eyrie on the clifl', its course is right upward to the
sun, and in the beams of uncreated light alone it finds
its home, and its kindred, and its joy. The great pur-
pose of man in the present world is to pass from a
passive to an active state of being. And it is, in fact,
this transition, effected by the agency of the Holy
Spirit, which is that regeneration of which Scripture
speaks. By nature, man is under the dominion of
habit ; the Spirit brings him under the dominion of
principle. By nature, a man exercises himself in all his
doing without reference to God ; in grace, the Spirit
dwells in the heart as the sanctifier and the guide. By
nature, a man, imder temporary impulses of master-
jiassions, may put forth energies which awe a world,
hut they are of the earth, earthy ; but the Spirit, so to
speak, implants heavenly ideas in his mind, and he gets
power and capacity to think of God. By nature, the
man cleaves to the dust, is conversant only with what is

190 THE CUKISTIAn'b INHEErTANCK.

contemptible and low, and at last Binks into perdition;
in grace he draws himself np to his full stature, asserts
his native royalty, and, as a heaven-horn and heaven-
tending subject, claims kindred with the King of the
other world. In fine, by nature the man walks in dark-
ness, the shadows of the night arc around him, and ho
knoweth not whither ho goeth; in grace, the morning
has broken delightfully on the steps of the traveller,
and he is revived and invigorated by the light ot

day. ' ,

Brethren, thoi-e is one point here which, if you are all
like-mindod with myself, you will hail with no common
satisfaction. lam loth to part with those I love; I
am loth to regard them as strangers, because they
change their residence, and are just gone to live on the
other side of the stream. I won't pay death the compli-
ment of telling him he has divided the Church. He
cannot do that. There is only one anny of the living
God: ^ „ , .

" Part of the host have crossed the flood, , , - ■ • ^i

And part are crossing now ;"

but it is one army ; there is but one body growing up
into Christ— its living head. The head and the upper
members in heaven, the lower members on earth ; but
it is but one system and one body; and at no very
distant period the whole body shall be drawn into the
npper sanctuary, and stand out to the gaze of the
admiring universe in the full stature of the perfect man.
I hail with joy, therefore, anything that has a tendency

FIEKrrANOK.

St Binlv-8 into perdition ;
) his full Btatiire, asserts
iaven-born and heavcn-
l with the King of the
) the man walks in dark-
are aroinid him, and ho
1 ; in grace, the morning
e steps of the traveller,
;orated by the light of

licrc which, if you arc all
vill hail with no common
irt with those I love; I
strangers, because they
e just gone to live on the
)u't pay death the compli-
lividcd the Church. He
y one anny of the living

crossed the flood, ■ , -' • -i-'

5 now;" ••. -"

but one body growing up
The head and the upper
!r members on earth ; but
le body; and at no very
dy shall be drawn into the
[ out to the gaze of the
stature of the perfect man.
ything that has a tendency

THK OriRISTIAN'a INnKimANCE.

191

to bring me even in thought near to the loved and gone
belbre. I M-elcome as the visit of a ministering angel
the voice of kindness M-hich brings me tidings from the
rcahns where my friends are reposing.

The thought, then, that gives me such satisfaction, is
tliis, that now, even now, clogged as we are by the
frailty and weakness of the body, we and tliose departed
ones who have died in the ftiith arc walking in the
same light. We are told that the Lord is the light of
Ills peojile in heaven ; we know that the Lord is the
light of his people on earth. "We are told that the
glory of the Lord is the sole illnmination of the heavenly
Jerusalem ; we know that the glory of tlie Lord illu-
minates the earthly Zion ; the lamp of light above, the
spirit of light beneath — the same light, for they are both
God. There is a beauty in this conception — don't yoii
see it ? — because it gives us the notion of alliance ; it
repudiates the idea of this earth of ours as cast off from
God's fatherhood, a shrouded and forgotten thing. It
takes hold of it in its degradation, and fastens round it
one end of the chain, the other end of which is bound
to the throne of the Everlasting himself. And, oh ! is
it not a beautiful thought, ay, while here to-night in the
sanctuary we are opening our Bibles, and imploring
the Spirit of God to shine down upon the truth, faith
looks through the clouds — and they are very thin ones —
and sees a host of bright spirits above, engaged in the
same employment, desiring to look into the same things.
We are one with them after all. The light may fall,

11)2 THK CUUISTIAk's INnEEITANCB.

tlio light docB fall, with a more gusbiug flood-tido upon
their cye8, but it is the Bamo light. There they are,
with the Great Teacher in the mid.t oi them, poring
everlastingly upon the tale of pleading love. Such
students and such a teacher, who would not join ; and,
as the light of the intellect, adopt at once and forever
the words of the text: » Whom have I in heaven but
thee? and there is none upon the earth that I desire

beside thee."

U And then again, God is the Chwstian s inherit-
ance, not only as tlio light of his intellect, but as the
BEFUGE OF 1.13 CONSCIENCE. Whenever human nature
reflects on God, it must reflect on him as an object of
distrust and dread. We think of him as a being ot
unimagincd power, of enormous power; we are igno-
rant, moreover, how he stands afl"ected toward us-and
the fancy of ignorance will always be found to be the
fancy of fear. The uncertainty in which the manner
of his existence is shrouded, the vast extent of his
creation, the wise and sage policy of his government,
the retirement in which he dwells, the clouds and dark-
ness that are round about his footstool, the inscrutable
majesty which surrounds his throne— all these things
have a tendency to inspire us with alarm, so that w(;
may say with Job, "When I consider, I am afraid of
him." The case might have been difi'erent in the
primeval paradise, when the Lord walked in the garden
in the cool of day ; but ever since he has withdrawn
himself from mortal society, mortals view him with dis-

aEKITANCB.

gusbiug flood-tido upon

light. There, they are,

midet of them, poring

: pleading love. Such

would not join ; and,
lopt at once and forever
a have I in heaven hut

the earth that I desire

THE ChWSTIAn's IKHERIT-

his intellect, but as the
?^henever human nature
; on him as an object of
k of him as a being of
lus power ; we are igno-
affected toward us— and
ways be found to be the
ty in which the manner
, the vast extent of his
)olicy of hifl government,
rells, the clouds and dark-

1 footstool, the inscrutable
throne— all these things

IS with alarm, so that wc
consider, I am afraid of
e been different in the
Lord walked in the garden
[• since he has withdrawn
mortals view hin\ with dis-

TUK ciikistian's iniiekitance.

193

may ; and tlie Athenians only spoke the language of
unassisted reason, wlien they reared their altar " to the
unknown God."

And if wo appeal to nature, to the external world, to
remove this distrustfulness of God, wo shall find our-
selves but little benefited. This, you know, is ono of the
very tritest prescriptions of the Thcophilosophers and
Latitudinarians of the present day. " Go to nature,"
they say ; " look at the external world ; see everything
around you ; look there, and see written with pleasing
characters that ono great lesson of the universe, that
God is love." "Well, I will go to the external world, if
such is to be the theme. I look around me, and I dis-
cover many things upon which the eye can gaze, to
which the ear can listen, upon which the heart can
dwell, which rejoices me when I think that the God
that made them all is surely a God of love. There are
tlic smiling landscapes, and beautiful enamelled earth,
and soft music of the summer's breeze, and the loud
laugh of the bounding stream, and the innocence of
domestic enjoyments and ennobling principles, and the
peace and love and animation which cluster around the
liearth-stone of many a cottage home. Oh, it is a
delightful thought that the God who made all these
things, is surely a God of love 1 Ah, but then there arc
the sweeping floods, and the resistless tempests, and the
mighty thunder, and the jealousies and heart-burnings
of domestic society, and the wholesale slaughters of
aggi'ftssive war, and the wrath of the devouring pesti-

194 TDE oubistian'8 inukiutanck.

lencc, and, to cro^vn all, death, grim and ghastly clcath
crushing the generations as the moth is crush.d. A\ hat
am I to believe, but that the God of the universe is a
mi-hty judge ? Katuro can tell me nothing then, bho
just tosses my roor mind about in the most distressing
alternations, first of confidence, and then of dread.
And yet often .vhen the mild voice of Christiamty-
rathcr of natural religion-assures me that God is love,
I am not disposed to believe it. But then there is a
reason for this. This is not, like the other, conjured up
out of the land of shadows, the mere result of mans
intellect or of speculation and theories; it has its base
and origin in the secrecies of his own nature. Tlic fact
is in every mind there is a law of right and wrong, and
alon- with it a consciousness that that law has been
habitually violated. Tliere is a restless apprehension
of the law and the Law-giver, a dread foreboding of
guilt and judgment; and a man cannot believe that
God is love, while his conscience tells him that that
God is to be viewed as an enemy. Tlie comforting
voice of reason and of religion may testify to the
benevolence of God in heaven ; but so long as there is
a secret misgiving within-so long as there is the yet
unsettled controversy Votween his Maker and himsell,
all ideas of confidence arc banished from his mind, and,
like Adam of old, in the very slyness of his crime, he
would hide himself from his Maker among the trees of

his garden.

And here it is that Christianity comes to our assist

KITANCH.

TUK CIIUI8TIAN 9 INHKRITANOK.

195

■im and ghastly dcntli,
lOth is crush.^d. ^Vhat
d of the. xiniverBe is a
me nothing then. She
n the most distressing
, and then of dread,
roice of Christianity-
's mo that God is love,
. But then there is a
, the other, conjured up
3 mere result of man's
theories ; it has its hasc
8 own nature. Tlic fact
of right and wrong, and
that that law has been

a restless apprehension
, a dread foreboding of
lan cannot believe that
nee tells him that that
jnemy. The comforting
ion may testify to the
; but BO long as there is
long as there is the yet

his Maker and himself,
shed from his mind, and,
J slyness of his crime, ho
(laker among the trees of

iinity comes to our assist-

'■

nnce, just as she always docs when wo most need her,
and ono feels the force of tlioso doop jiiid tlirilliiig
words — "Behold the Lamb of God, tluit taketh away
the sins of the world." This told of a Saviour, utid a
Saviour who has borne his cross and carried his sorrow,
the man looks about him for the unwonted HpoctacU',
puts oti' his fainting for awhile, gazes at the illustrious
victim, and "Who is it?" ho cries: "who is that mighty
one that has come down to the rescue ? Who is it that
has agonized in the garden, that has bled under the
scourge, and died upon tho cross ? Who is it ?" Why,
who should it be but tho very Being whom he has so
basely and so tingratefully hisxdted? and with the grace
of love and the tenderness of the man Christ Jesus,
there is blended the majesty of the King of kings. Oh,
he cannot doubt after that ; that is an argument likely
to overturn all his skepticism. lie looks at the cross,
and sees that God is righteous ; but ho looks at the
Crucified, and he sees that God is love; and, with
clasped hands and streaming eyes and grateful heart,
he sings, "Whom have I in heaven but thee? and
there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee."

III. And then, again, God is the Christian's iNnEurr-
ANCE, ALSO AS THE REST OF HIS souL. The rcstlessncss
of human ambition has become proverbial. It is grasp-
ing as the leech, insatiable as the grave. The moment
one sclierae has succeeded, it pants for the enjoyment
of another. Tlie moment it has scaled one eminence
of fancied bliss, its cry is " up," ay, from the summit

TIIK CIIUISTIAn'h INUKRITANCE.

of tliu AlpH. "O that I hud the winf,'^ of the dove,
mid then would I lly uwny Jind bo ixt roHt." ThiB rcBt-
lc68 cniviiij,' for Boiuothiii^' better than earth, althoiif^di
it h Iho coinpaiiion of our fallen nature, very vhiiiily
tellrt m un important truth— that tho earth and itH eon-
eeruB ean iievyr satibfy an immortal spirit. It pants fur
tiomethini,' higher, Bomcthiu},' more rolincd, sonicthin-,'
moro intellectual, eoniethiug more liko God. That
which ttlono can Batisfy, can till tho immortal mind,
must bo something in which it can feel secure, and
something with which it can be Batibfied ; for to be
secure is to bo safe, and to bo satisfied is to bo happy.

1. Take tho first thought, then— that of secunty.
Wo arc in a^ dangerous world; at every step of our
track wo feel tho necessity of celestial guardianship,
and that tutelary and Dustaining influences should bo
shed upon us from on high. AVell, let us once got it into
our hearts— not into our heads simply by an intellectual
conviction, but into our hearts as a happy alliance— let
us get it into our hearts that tho Lord ia our defence
and the Holy One of Israel our refuge, and what can
make us afraid ? Omnipotence pledged in our behalf 1
AVhy, tho very idea should make heroes of us all 1 Ho
may, ho most likely will have to pass through tho fur-
nace ; the hand of aflaiction may be laid upon him ; tho
wind may sweep swiftly over tho desert, rocking to and
fro the canvas tents of his earthly shelter ; but you can
hear him crying in the pauses of the storm — "It is tho
Lord; let him do what .scemeth to him good." Ho

JIIERITANCE.

the wingH of the dovo,
i bo at rcHt." This rcwt-
ter than earth, althou<,'h
lull naliuT, very ]»luiiily
lit the earth and ifw eoii-
ortnl spirit. It pants lur
more rotincd, Boinethin<^

more like God. That
till the iinniortul mind,

it can feel Bccnro, and

bo Batibfied ; for to be
satisfied is to bo happy.

then— that of eccxirity.
d; at every step of our
jf celestial guardianship,
ling influences should bo
/"ell, let U8 once got it into
3 simply by an intellectual
s as n happy alliance — let
t the Lord is our defenco
our refuge, and what can
CO pledged in our behalf !
lakc heroes of us all 1 Ho
to pass through tho fur-
tiay be laid upon him ; tho
tho desert, rocking to and
rthly shelter ; but you can
IS of the storm — " It is tho
meth to him good." Ho

TIIK rUUIHTIAN'rt INIIKMlrANOK.

107

nuiy have to sutler the bitteruess of bereavement; death
nuiy deprive him of tho beloved of IiIh soul ; there may
be the breaking up of the (lomeHfie homestead ; the
fresh laceratifin of the already bleeding spiritfi, and the
tearing asunder of hearts that have grown together;
but, in tho midst of this unparalieh'd sufleriMg, you
can hear liis unmoved failh, saying — "The Lord gave,
and the Lord hath taken away" — not the Chaldajan,
nor tho Sabean, nor the whirlwind, nor tho flood — "Tnu
Lord hath taken away. Blessed bo tho name of tho
Lord." A fiercer flood may roll upon him, a heavier
wave may threaten to overwhelm him, tho fires of ven-
geance may bo poured on his liead, but oven in death's
grasp his failing voice is heard — " Though ho slay me, yet
will I trust in him. Whom have 1 in heaven but thee '(
and there is none up(m earth that I desire besido thee."
2. And then take the next thought, that of happiness.
The question of man's chief good has been in all ages
speculated upon and determined. All tho thcorizers on
tho subject have boon convinced of this — that it could
consist in nothing inferior. And so far they are right.
That which alone can fill tho immortal mind, must have
some analogy to tho constitution of that mind ; and it
must thoroforo bo steadfast, proof against the fitfulne?a
of ever-changing circumstances ; not here to-day and
vanished when wo need it to-morrow ; not present iu
tho summer time when the breezes blow, and failing in
the winter time when the blast of the hurricane comes
down ; but steadfast, always the same and always avail-

198

•lllli (JlllilSTIAN'ti INIIKKIXANOK.

able. And it must be progressive, keeping pace with
the soul, lasting as long as the sonl, kcep-.ng abreast
with it in its triunipbal march to holiness and God.
Well, there arc many candidates in the field. Just
bring them to the test-stono for awhile. Pleasure is a
candidate, and she brings before the soul a very glow-
ing description of herself and her ways. She tells him
that the voice of the siren shall make music in his ears,
and that the loud laugh of festivity shall bo lieard in
his dwelling, that the voice of song and dance axid car-
nival shall yield him succession of delight. But he
asks, " Is she steadfast*" And he hears that she never
enters the chambors of sorroAv, has no comfort for the
dark slumber and hopeless winter of age. A bu-d of
passage, she flaps her giddy wings in the sunshine, but
at the first approach of the stormy season speeds her
flight into more favored climes. Then honor is a can-
didate, and she tells him of a wreath of laurels, of the
swellings of the heart as it listens to its own praise, and
of the untold happiness of being the conversation of the
world. But ho asks, "Is she steadfast?" And they
tell him that chaplets of distinction often fade in a
night; they tell him that the most fickle thing in the
fickle universe is popular applause— how the same lips
that shouted " Hosanna to the Son of David !" shouted
shortly afterward, "Crucify him! crucify him I" and
how the mob-idol of to-day has often been the mob-
victim of to-morrow. Then wealth is a candidate ; and
she tells him of the pleusure of hoarding, of the joys of

;'s INIlKlilXANCK.

■JIIK CUUISTIAN's INIJKUITANCE,

1(^9

ogrcssivc, keeping pace with
!i8 the soul, licep"ng abreast
march to holiness and God.
.ndidatcs in the field. Just
ic for awhile. Pleasure is a
before the soul a very glow-
and her ways. She tells him
shall make music in his ears,
of festivity shall bo lieard in
c of song and dance aad car-
ccession of delight. But he

And he hears that she never
trrow, has no comfort for the
ss winter of age. A bu-d of
dy wings in the sunshine, but
the stormy season speeds her
climes. Then honor is a can-

of a wreath of laurels, of the
[t listens to its own praise, and
[ being the conversation of the
[s she steadfast?" And they
•f distinction often fade in a
t the most fickle thing in the

applause — ^liow the same lips
;o the Son of David !" shouted
cify him! crucify himl" and
■day has often been the mob-
len wealth is a candidate ; and
iure of hoarding, of the joys of

possession, of the pomp, and power, and flattery, and
obsequiousness which money can procure. But he asks,
" Is she steadfast ?" He hears that she brings with her
her own discontent ; that the cares of keeping are worse
than the cares of getting ; that often in times of panic,
like the scared eagle, wealth takes to itself wings and
flies away ; and even if a man enjo;- it all his life long,
tliough flxilure and pa,nic may not come to strip the lord
of his property, death shall come and strip the property
of its lord.

Well, then, after all these, the joys of earth, have been
tried and severally found wanting, God brings his
claims before the mind, oficring to be the soul's refuge
and everlasting home. True itself, it does not shrink
from the test. God's aids are steadfast, they avail in
liie wiuter as wuii aa in tho bUiiiuier; in tlie dark season
of adversity as well as when the sun shineth on the
path ; when frost depresses the spirit as M-ell as when
sunshine fills it with laughter ; when friends troop up
and when friends forsake equally ; when fortune smiles
and when the world turns the cold shoulder. Arc they
always the same? Are they not? Oh! if the deco-
rums of the sanctuary would permit it to-night, are
there not many of you who could rise up in your deep
baptism of sorrow and sing in the words of the poet f —

" When our sorrows most increase,
Then his richest joys are given;
Jesus comes in our distress,
And agony is heaTen."

200 THE chuistian's inukuitanok.

Aro they progressive? Will they last as long as the
soul ? Will they keep young as it does, and keep pace
^vith it as it travels along toward holiness and God.
Oh yes! for before all the immense and varied lands-
cape of blessings upon which the eye can rest, existed
the fullness of Deity; beyond it, stretching fortli, a
broad, fathomless infinity —

" An ocean of love and of power,
Which neither knows measure nor end."

3 Passing over several topics that might be worthy
of our meditation, just let us glance for a moment at
the mpp<yrt offered to the Christian in the hour and
article of death. Come with me, then, will you? it will
do you good. Come with me to the Christian's death-
bed ; and if there is a cold-hearted and skeptical infidel
of your acquaintance, bring him with you, that he may
learn at once the worthlessness of human pride and tlie
glory of the God of love. Stretched upon a couch
lies the poor sufferer —

»« Whose weak, attenuated frame
Shows naught of being but a name."

Is this the man-is this the being who but a little while
ago towered in all the strength of his pride? Is this
clenched hand that which clasped yours in friendship
but a little while ago? Ah, how true it is that he
Cometh forth as a flower and is cut downl But what
is it fills that closing eye with such unwonted bright-
ness? What is it that kindles that pallid cheek into

HEUITANOK.

hey last as long as the
} it does, and keep pace
vard holmess and God?
nense and varied lands-
he eye can rest, existed
1 it, stretching forth, a

of power,
measure nor end."

ics that might be worthy

glance for a moment at

ristian in the hour and

ne, then, will you? it will

to the Christian's death-

irted and skeptical infidel

im with you, that he may

8 of human pride and tlie

Stretched upon a couch

mated frame
Deing but a name."

3ing who but a little while
gthof his pride? Is this
asped yours in friendship
1, how true it is that he
i is cut down 1 But what
ith such unwonted bright-
les that pallid choek into

THE CHUISTIAN S INHERITANCE.

201

such angelic animation ? Ah ! there is a mightier than
you, and a mightier than death ; there is God in that
death-chamber. Tliere is an awe and a solcnmity
which tells of the presence of God. Listen 1 listen to
the unfaltering firmness with which that voice sings :
" My fiesh and my heart faileth ; but God is the strength
of my heart and my portion forever." Is that enthu-
siasm ? Are these the accents of frenzy ? Does mad-
ness talk so calmly ? Has the prospect of dissolution
no chilling influence ? Can a fictitious excitement sup-
port the soul at such an hour ? Ah I that is a stout-
hearted hypocrisy that can brave the agony of dying.
But here is triumph in death. Stoicism boasts of her
examples; patriotism has a long list of wortliies, for
whom the world has woven garlands of undying bloom.
But here is a man, a poor, frail, erring, insignificant
man, going with his eyes open, with the full conscious-
ness of his position, down the dark valley, to meet, to
grapple with, and to master his last enemy. There is a
spectacle of the morally sublime that I challenge the
wide universe to equal. And this sublime spectacle is
not of the wisdom of men ; it is just the power of God.
But while we liave been talking about him, the man
has died ; the last convulsion is past ; the last breath ia
drawn ; the last pulse has completed its feeble throb —

" Oh change, oh wondrous change !
There lies the soulless clod :
The sun eternal breaks ; the new immortal wakes-
Wakes with his God."

202 THE ohbistun's inheritance.

There is high festivity in the realms of the blest at the
accession of another member to the rejoicing family.
And the harpers harping with their harps rest in their
nmsic awhile,, and the angels, who pry forever into the
mysteries of God, take holiday from their researches for
awhile, and all heaven is gathered to witness the coro-
nation of the rejoicing believer as the crown is placed
on his head by the Master for whom he has done and
Buffered so much. Ah I what strange act is that ? He
takes the crown and casts it again at the feet of the
giver, and he says, assigning his reason— listen, we^shall
hear, for the music is still just now—what is it? " Ah,
Lord, the harp, and the robe, and the crown, and the
palm, what are all these to me? These are only the
appendages of the recompense. Tliou art my reward ;
thou art my portion; whom have I in heaven itself but :|
thee ?" And then the harpers harping with their harps
break out again, they can hold in no longer, and heaven
is filled as with an irrepressible gush of melody, " Not
unto us, not unto us, but unto thy name be all the
glory." And that is the end. Who does not say, " Let
me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end
be like his ?" Ah, but there are many people that pray
that prayer, who would like to die the death of the
righteous, but who do not like to live the life of the
righteous. But they go together; believe me they go
together. If you would die the death of the righteous,
you must live the life of the righteous, even a life of
faith in the Son of God, « who hath loved you and

INHERITANCE.

realms of the blest at the
r to the rejoicing family.
1 their harps rest in their

who pry forever into the
y from their researches for
lered to witness the coro-
er as the crown is placed
jr whom he has done and
t strange act is that ? He

again at the feet of the
his reason — listen, we shall
st now — ^what is it? " Ah,
e, and the crown, and the

me? These are only the
igp, Tliou art my reward ;
have I in heaven itself but
rs harping with their harps
Id in no longer, and heaven
ible gush of melody, " Not
unto thy name be all the
J. Who does not say, " Let
hteous, and let my last end
} are many people that pray
le to die the death of the
like to live the life of the
rether ; believe me they go
J the death of the righteous,
le righteous, even a life of
"who hath loved you and

THE CHBISTIAN S INHERITANCE.

203

given himself for you." There are some in this
assembly to-night, who are not living the life of the
righteous ; you have not given yourselves unto Christ
and his people, and there is no hope of that death for
you.

There is another death which I dare not trust myself
to describe — scenes of agony over which I draw the
veil — the very thought of which freezes the vitals and
curdles the blood ! Oh 1 come to Jesus ; do not tempt
upon yourselves any such doom as that. Get Christ for
you all. "1 live," as says the rejoicing Apostle ; "yet
not I, but Christ liveth in me " — so shall everything
lead you up to God. It could not lead you to undervalue
the life you now live ; it would not make you love less
this beautiful world ; everything around you will only
have mystic meanings which will be interpreted only
by Christ; you will be led thus from nature up to
nature's God. Then, as you pass through scenes of
beauty and blessedness, your full heart, taking refngo
in the language of poesy, will sing —

" Lord of earth, thy forming hand
Well this beauteons frame hath planned :
Woods that wave, and bills that tower,
Ocean rolling in its power ;
All that strikes the gaze unsought,
All that charms the lonely thought
Yet, amid this scene so fair,
Oh I if thou wert absent there,
What were all those joys to me ;
Whom hare I on earth but thee ?"

201 TUIi CUBISTIAn's INIIKRITANCE.

Then, travelling through the path of your pilgrimage,
God, your own God, will hles8 you, and will wipe away
all tears from your faces, and will uplift you in the
endurance and prepare you fur the duties of hie; and
your pilgrimage will go on calmly; mellow eventide
will come upon you, yet at eventide there shall be
licht. The last stroke wiU ho struck, the laet enemy
encountered, the last change realized, and amid the
ranks of the ransomed you pass to pay your first hom-
age to the throne, and even then, taking refuge again
in the language of poesy, will your thoughts he the
same —

" Lord of heaven, beyond our siglit
Rolls a world of purer light ;
Where, in love's unclouded reign,
Parted hands arc clasped aguiii ;

Martyr's there and seraphs high,

Blest and glorious company !

While immortal music rings

From unnumbered seraph strings.

Oh, that scene is passing fair !

Yet if thou wert absent there,

What were all those joys to me ?

Whom have I in heaven but thee V"

May God bring us all to sing that song forever, for
his name's sake.

[UKRITANCE.

ath of your pilgrimage,
you, and will wipe away
.will uplift you in the
r the duties of life ; and
ahiily; mellow eventide
eventide there shall be
5 struck, the lapt enemy
realized, and amid the
8 to pay your first hom-
lieu, taking refuge again
il your thoughts he the

lyond our siglit
irer light ;
iclouded reign,
iaspcd again ;

seraphs high,
company !
usic rings

seraph strings,
lassing fair !
ibsent there,
se joys to me?
leaven but thee V"

ing that song forever, for

VIII.
THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR.

" And I saw, and behold a white horse ; and ho that sat on him had
bow ; and a crown was given unto him ; and ho went forth conquering and
to conquer" — Rev, vi., 2.

How animating is the sound of war ! IIow easily can
it awaken the ardors of the imrcnewed and unsanctified
heart of man ! There is no profession in which he can
gain more renown and applause than in the profussiou
of arms. It is the birthplace of what men call glory.
Custom has baptized it honorable ; it carries with it a
pomp and a circumstance of which other professions
are destitute ; it has nerv-ed the arm of the patriot, it
has fired the genius of the painter, it has strimg and
swept the poet's lyre ; nations have bowed before its
shrine, and even religion has prostituted herself to bless
and consecrate its banners. Yet it must not be for-
gotten that for the most part liuman conquerors are just
murderers upon a grand scale — mighty butchers of
human kind. Their victories are won amid extermina-
tion and havoc ; their track is traced in ruin ; there is
human life upon their laurels ; and if they wish to
acquire a name, they have got one ; let them glory as

20P

206

THE HEAVENLY CONQUEROR.

they can in its possession— the voice of blood proclaims
it from the ground, and it is vaunted from earth to
heaven by the mailings of orphaned heai-ts, and by the
deep execrations of despair. The sacred writings, how-
ever, tell us of one conqueror whose victories were
peacefully achieved, whose battles were bloodlessly won ;
or if his onward march was discolored by blood, it was
hia own. It is the Lord Jesus Christ who is thus
evidently set before us; he who "died the just for the
unjust, that he might bring us to God." In the fulfill-
ment of the various duties connected with the mediato-
rial office which he had undertaken, he is frequently
represented as going out to battle against his adver-
saries, as routing them by the word of his mouth, and
returning In exultation and triumph. Instances of this
you will easily and at once remember. Thus, in the
forty-fifth Psalm: "Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, O
most mighty, with thy glory and thy majesty. And in
thy majesty ride prosperously because of truth and
meekness and righteousness; and thy right hand shall
teach thee terrible things." Again, in the eleventh
chapter of Luke : « When a strong man armed keepeth
his palace, his goods are in peace : but when a stronger
than he shall come upon him and overcome him, ho
taketh from him all his armor wherein he trusted, and
divideth his spoils." And yet, again, according to the
mysterious apocalypses of the Book of Kevelation,
"Then shall all make war with the Lamb, and the
Lamb shall overcome them." It matters not how

[QUEROR.

)icc of blood proclaims
rauntcd from earth to
iiicd heai-ts, and by tho
le sacred writings, liow-
' -whose victories were
!8 were bloodlcssly won ;
colored by blood, it was
118 Christ who is thus
3 "died the just for tho
to God." In the fulfiU-
lectcd with the mediato-
ptaken, ho is frequently
attle against his adver-
word of his mouth, and
Liinph. Instances of this
emember. Thus, in tho
iword lapon thy thigh, O
nd thy majesty. And in
y because of truth and
and thy right hand shall
Again, in the eleventh
■ong man armed keepeth
ace : but when a stronger
1 and overcome him, ho
wherein he trusted, and
t, again, according to the
le Book of Kevelation,
nth. the Lamb, and the
,» It matters not how

TUK HJiAVKNLY CONQUKKOK.

SOT

numerous or how powerful his enemies may be — alike
over the powers of darkness with their Icgioucd liostd
of foes — alilvc over tho corruption of tho lunnan heart
with all its ramifications of depravity — alike over tho
false systems into wliicli tho corruption has retreatcMl,
iis into so many garrisoned and fortiiied towns, " a
crown is given unto him, and ho goeth fortli conquering
and to conquer." It is not my intention to enter into
all tho details of this interesting and absorbing strife.
I should just like to concentrate your attention upon
one phase of the conflict — the battle of tlio old serpent
the devil, tlie great origin of evil, under whose general-
ship the others arc mustered, and to whose commands
they Bubmittingly bow. Behold, then, the combat be-
yond all others important — the combat hetween Ckrint
and Satan for the human soul, and, as you trace the
jtrogress of the fight, remember with encouragement,
and say that " lie goeth forth conquering and to
conquer." It will be necessary, in order that we have
the whole matter before us, that we introduced tho
came of strife, the battle, and the victofy.

I. As to the cause of strife. You know that when
the all-comprising benevolence of God found heaven
too small for the completion of his vast designs, this
earth arose in order and in beauty from his forming
hands. After by his Spirit he had garnished the
heavens, and scattered upon the fair face of nature the
labor of his hand and the impress of his feet, as tho
fairest evidence of Divine workmanship, the last and

208

TIIK niCAVENLT OONQUKBOR.

most excellent of hia workB below, ho made man in hia
own inm^'o, after liis own likcucssi. The Boul, then, was
the property of him by whom it wi.s created, wlu.
imparted to it its high and noble faculties, by whom,
notwithstanding its defilement, it is still sustained, and
from whom proceed the retributions which shall lix its
doom forever. Man was created in possession of that
moral purity, that absolute freedom from sin, which
constituted of itself assimilation to his Maker's image.
And so long as he retained that image, so long was he
the Divine property, and the Divine portion alone.
But the moment ho sinned, the moment of the perver-
sion of his nature, of the estrangement of his iaculties,
of the alienation of his heart, he came \indcr a different
tenure, and became a vassal of a different lord.

Satan himself, once an inhabitant of the high realms
of glory, but hurled from that giddy height for diso-
bedience and pride, was mysteriously permitted to
tempt our first parents in the garden, with the full
knowledge, on their part, that, standing as they did in
their representative, and public character, if they fell
the consequences of that one transgression were en-
tailed upon all their posterity. With the circumstances
of the original temptation you are of course familiar,
and the issue of it you have in that one verse in the
book of Genesis: " Because thou hast done this, thou
art cursed above all cattle, and above every beast of
the field ; upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt
thou eat all the days of thy life." This tells us of the

NQUKBOR.

DW, ho made man in hia
83. Tlio Boul, then, was
n it Wii3 created, who
ble faculties, by whom,
it is still sustained, and
tions which shall lix its
3d in possession of that
eedom from sin, Avhich
II to his Malcer's image,
t image, so long was ho
I Divine portion alone.
! moment of the perver-
ngement of his iaciilties,
le came \indcr a different
a different lord.
)itaut of the high realms
t giddy height for diso-
'steriously permitted to

garden, with the full
, standing as they did in
ic character, if they fell

1 transgression were en-
With the circumstances

1 are of course familiar,
in that one verse in the
liou hast done this, thou
id above every beast of
; thou go, and dust shalt
ife." This tells us of the

TlIK IIKAVKNLV CONQUKKOH.

209

contravention — the direct contravention — of a known
law: a law whicli (ind, as the suprcnio Creator, had a
2»erfect right to institute; a law which man, as a
dependent creature, was under binding obligations to
oI)ey. It was instituted avowedly as a test of obe-
dience ; and this is all we would answer to the labored
sarcasms of foolish inliilolity. Any wayfaring man,
though a fool, can curl his lip and declaim against the
insignificance of the act from which such mighty issues
sprang ; but ho forgets that tho moment the tempta-
tion was yieled to, there was in human nature a very
incarnation of tho devil. Under that demoniacal pos-
session the man was prepared for any infraction, from
tlie eating of the forbidden fruit to the subversion of an
almighty throne; and ho who, imder such circum-
stances, would violate a known command, however
trifling, would not, if tho circumstances had been
equal, have shriuik away from the endeavor to scale
tho battlements of heaven, and pluck the crown of
divinity from the very brow of the Eternal. Hence it
was, by yielding to the suggestions of the tempter, and
to his infamous temptation, that tho portals of tho
palace were flung wide open for tho strong man armed
to enter ; and hither, alas ! he came with all his sad and
fearful train, enthroning himself upon the heart, setting
up his image, as Bunyan hath it, in the market-place
of the town of Man-soul ; fortifying every avenue, filling
every chamber, corrupting every faculty, enervating
every inhabitant, and announcing every moment the

210

■nil.: IIKAVKNI.Y CoNliUKUOB.

.y.nl..»U i>f hi- own roHulvo to «.•.«!. and hold it lorovc.r.
Jloro tlum i. in l.riof tUo c.u.c of thin colo.tuil Htnle.
Th. Huul, u colony .,f h -.von, had boon taken usiu-iK-d
p...o.4on of, l.y ,lKM.o-T.s oMuai, and tl.o cllort to
.vst.r. it to ulU'j^iauce wan tlio main cau.c ol thin

ct.U'Htial war.

SuU n.rthoi- tu inn..v«0"i' ^viihtliiJ weighty cauacH
uf the htrito, let uh reniind you for a nu.niont of the
charucter of the governnic.it thu. by daring uaurpatiou
acquired. Tiie dominion whieh Satan exorcises over
tlio hunum Boul i<i despotic in its character. IIo is not a
monarch, he is an autocrat ; he adnutn no co.npro.mso,
he brooks no rival, he i...ium \m undeanncHs upon every
part, an.l rei-ns sui-reniely over .'very power and every
faoully ..f man. True, the man i.s not always couscioub
of his slavery ; that is one of the cunningest secrets of
his power, that ho persuades his vassals that they are
free, and their otVended hmguago to any one who
questions the fact is, » AVe bo Abraham's children that
were never in bondage to any man." Ho brands them
as is own, and then, content to wear his budge, they
may choose their own trappings, lie has no uniform.
Some of his soldiers arc in rags and others in purple,
and his very choicest veterans have stolen the livery of
heaven. There is not one within the compass of the
whole human family who is not subject to his authority,
naturally led captive by the devil at his will. And
then, this government of Satan over the human soul is
uot only despotic but degrading. Slavery in any form

(NgUl'KOK.

Tint IIKAVKNLV t'KNyl KKOK.

311

jrusp Hiul lioUl it lorcviT.
10 of thU fuloiitiiil hlrifo.
i;i(l bouu taken iHtir[Knl
of hell, uml llio elloit to
tlu! iiiiiiii caiiHO of ll»U

with tlie weighty cuiiaes
oil I'ur u uuduciit of tlio
Iiu9 by daring usurpation
ch Satan exorciaea over
ts clmnictLr. IIo is not a
L! lulinitri no comiiroiniso,
rt uneleiviUK'Hs upon every
L'r every power and every
m irt not iilwiiya conscious
tlio cunningest Bccrots of
his vassals that they are
iguago to any one who
Abraham's children that
1 man." Ho brands them
; to wear his badge, they
ings. lie has no uniform,
■ags and others in purple,
s have stolen the livery of
•ithin the compass of the
ot subject to his anthority,
e devil at his will. And
tan over the human soul ia
ling. Slavery in any form

is csHfiitially coiinectfd with d('gradii^''>n. and in ffw
niHO before us the connection must be regnided an (ho
iiKMt ]);ilpiible and nnphutic of all. The esaeiicr ami
exultation i>f moral dignity are as>,iiiiiljitioMS to fho
im.igi! of (}od. NVIiati'Ver recedes from that iiimge
must of necessity debase ami di-grade. Now the course
of man's life, as it has Iteen, ever since the fall, a
course of constant and increasing recession from God,
presents a spectacle of moral degradation which is
grievous to behold : tlio whole nature has fallen ; the
tinderstanding has become darkened, and is conversant
only with what is contemptible and low ; the aflection.-*,
which once soared aublimeiy upward, now cleave to
worldly objects, objects that perish in tiie nsing ; the
passions have become loyal tcrviiiits of the usurper, and
keep their zealous i)atrol in the court-yard of his
palace ; the will, which once inclined to good, is now
tierce and greedy after evil ; imagination revels in
fondest dalliance with sin for its i)aramour ; and con-
science, intoxicated with opiate draughts, and in that
intoxication smitteii with paralysis, gazes hopehsssly
upon the desolation ; or if at times stirred by the spirit
within, it breaks out with a paroxysm and terrifies tho
man with its thunder, he is persuaded to regard it as
the incoherence of some meddling drunkard, or tho
ravings of some frantic madman. Such is the condi-
tion to which the usurpation of the evil one has
reduced the human soid. It is first earthly, scraping
its affluence or its pleasure together ; and then, yet

212 THE UKAVKNLY CONQUKBOR.

more degrading, there is the transformation that hap-
pened to Nebuchadnezzar, the heart of a man is taken
out, and the heart of a beast is put in ; and then, as
like grows to like, and as a process of assiuiihitiou is
constantly going on, it grows into its master's image ;
the mark of tlie beast becomes more distinct and pal-
pable, every feature stands confessed of Satan's obscene
and loathsome likeness, and there is a living proof of
the truth of the scale upon which Scripture has
graduated man's increasing degeneracy. Firet earthly,
then sensual, then devilish. This is a fearful picture ;
is it not? Ah ! you see the man, or his bacchanalian
orgies, or his midnight prowl, but you do not see the
fiend that dogs his steps and goads him to destruction.
You see the degri'dation of the nature that once bore
the image of God, but you do not see the jibhig,
mocking demon that is behind. You trace intelligibly
enough the infernal brand, but you cannot hear the
peals of infernal laughter as the arch-devil, looking
down upon the soul that he has stormed, exults in the
extremity of the disgrace and glories in the pollution
of the fallen.

Tlie government of Satan over the human soul is not
only despotic and degrading, but destmctive. Sin and
pvmishment are inseparably allied ; the powers of dark-
ness, although mysteriously permitted a certain amount
of influence, are themselves, in punishment, " reserved
in chains under darkness until the judgment of the
great day." A man who transgresses, since no coer-

JLY CONQUKBOR.

the transformation that hap-
r, the lieart of a man is taken
beast is put in ; and then, as
,s a process of assiinihition is
•ows into its master's image ;
jcomes more distinct and pal-
ls confessed of Satan's obscene
and there is a living proof of
upon which Scripture has
ng degeneracy. Firet earthly,
ish. This is a fearful picture ;
e the man, or his bacchanalian
prowl, but you do not see the
and goads hiui to destruction.
1 of the nature that once bore
fc you do not see the jibing,
jchind. You trace intelligibly
,nd, but you cannot hear the
;er as the arch-devil, looking
t he has stormed, exults in the
ee and glories in the pollution

THE HEAVENLY CONQCEUOK.

213

itan over the human soul is not
ling, but destinictivc. Sin and
bly allied ; the powers of dark-
isly permitted a certain amount
Ives, in punishment, " reserved
388 until the judgment of the
fho transgresses, since no coer-

cion comes upon the freedom of his will, must neces-
sarily bo regarded as willful ; he is under the curses of a
violated law, nay, condemned altogether, fur " the
wrath of God abideth upon liim." God will " pour out
indignation, and wrath, and tribulation, and anguish
upon every soul of man tliat doetli evil ; upon the Jew
first, and also upon the Gentile ;" for there is no re-
spect of persons with God. I am speaking to uncon-
verted sinners to-night ; to some of relined and delicate
sensibility, shocked at the ribaldry of the vulgar, and
at the licentiousness of the profane. I tell you there
is no respect of persons with God. If you flee not to a
high and mighty Eedeemer, if you repose not in
present reliance upon Christ, for you there remaineth
nothing but a death whese bitterest ingredient is that it
can never die, but that it has eternity about it, eternity
beyond it, and eternity within it, and the curse of God,
upon it, fretting it and following it forever.

Thank God, there is a promise of a perfect and de-
lightful deliverance from this thralldom under which
man has been groaning. Olirist has come down on
purpose to deliver and ransom him, and he goeth forth
conquering and to conquer. In the counsels of the
eternal Godhead, in foresight of the temptation of
Satan and of the thralldom and depravity of man,
Christ was induced to work out a coimteracting scheme,
by which, in the beautiful language of ancient pro-
phecy, the prey of the mighty should be taken away
and the lawful captive delivered. The first initimatioii

214

THE HKAVKNLT CONQUEBOE.

of this scheme was given just when the first shadow of
Bin swept over the world. "Tlie seed of the woman
B]>all bruise the serpent's head." From that time there
was a continued series of operations, in the good provi-
dence of God perpetuated for thousands of years, all
tending to the fultillment of this original promise, and
the achievement of this original plan. At last, in the
fullness of time-the time by prophet seers foretold,
and by believing saints expected-in the fullness of time,
the Son of God was incarnated in the nature that had
Binned, and then it was that the battle in earnest began.
If. Look, then, at the Divine Saviour, « stronger
than the strong man armed," invested with far higher
(pialifications, and wielding far mightier power. And
how is this? He is the babe in Bethlehem, the
rejected wanderer, the arraigned rebel, the scourged
and spit upon, the Nazarene, the crucified. But these
are only voluntary submissions, and in the deepest humi-
liation there slumbers Omnipotence within. « All power
is given unto Me both in heaven and in earth," and this
power is all enlisted upon the side of salvation and of
mercy. It is not the power of the lightning, that
blasts while it brightens ; it is not the power of the
whirlwind, whose track is only known by the carnage
and desolation that it leaves behind it. It is the power
of the water rill, that drops and drops, and in its drop-
ping melts the most stern and difficult of nature's
forces. It is the power of the light ; it flows in ener-
getic silence, you cannot hear it as it flows, and yet it

la
it
tli
sc
as
w

tn
th
lii

je<
in;

iui

pei

re^

issi

lONQUEBOB.

when the first shadow of
Tlie seed of tho woman
" From that time there
ations, in the good provi-
r thousands of years, all
his original promise, and
nal plan. At last, in the
y prophet seers foretold,
ed— in the fullness of time,
sd in the nature that had
le battle in earnest began,
)ivine Saviour, " stronger
' invested with far higher
'ar mightier power. And
babe in Bethlehem, the
igned rebel, the scourged
the crucified. But these
IS, and in the deepest humi-
Dtence within. "AH power
iven and in earth," and this
le side of salvation and of
'er of the lightning, that
t is not the power of the
jnly known by the carnage
behind it. It is the power
and drops, and in its drop-
1 and difficult of nature's
the light ; it flows in ener-
ear it as it flows, and yet it

THK HEAVENLY CONQUEKOK.

215

permeates and illuniinos all. Ho is strong, but he is
strong to deliver ; he is mighty, but, in is own j^owerful
language, he is « miglity to save." It often happens—
it used to do so more frequently than it dons now— in
the history of the strifes of nations, and of the harsh
scenes of war, that the interest of spectators was drawn
aside from hostile ranks to two courageous champions,
Avho separated themselves from opposing armies for
single combat with each other, and the fate of armies
appeared to the spectators as nothing compared ^vith
who should be the victor in this individual strife. O !
conceive, if it were possible, a single coinbat between
the rival princes of light and darkness, the grand, tho
transcendent, the immeasurable issue of which shall be
the ruin or redemption of the human soul ! I cannot
limn it ; I cannot bring it fairly before you ; the sub-
ject is too mighty : and yet a thought or two may not
inaptly illustrate the battle that is now before us.

See, then, the lists are spread ; the champions are
there. Eager angels crowd around, for they have an
interest in the strife, and they are anxious to tune their
harps to the anthems of regeneration again. Exulting
demons are there, flushed with high hopes they dare
not name, that vaunt of a ruined universe and of a
peopled hell. Tliis is no gentle passage at arms ; this is
no gorgeous tournament, or mimic fight, or holiday
review ; the destinies of a world of souls are trembling
in the balance now — depend for weal or woe upon tlio
issue of this mortal strife.

215 TITG llEiVBl<I.V 00»<iDl"»B.

1 .„oraato liavobccuintUetempW-
saviour'. P»M- •--:> ;^, , TamofaAion a...o
tempt tl,o »°7-l/^"" ";'^\,„„ varied with labor,
,,aa tompt«l tho S-' . 2 too la suffering from the

similar order of '™1'"'°!, . ^ , ^„t tliore was a

„KcessM iu the garden "t^^-^J ,,„„„ ^,

fffl tl'Tr" -aof tho spirit, with its
liad to deal. Lrraspm^ lu sopbistries

1 f Klndo ho cut asunder the tlimsy bujj
trenchant blade, no cut aiscomfited demon

^ent l'''^'^"'/^ ^.,^ t,,d, ambrosial wmgs h,s .

,^n hiq fati'^ucd and sorrowing soul.
"^Be!::!" butnot eou,uored,the -W-urued_^
„,,<! tliA Tipxt srapple was in tne perjurn^
"" *;::L*/ t r— ry in ordinary warfare.
,«e »/ '»'•''*• ^ fortress is taken, for the con-

'"'' r:ar"with some of his own soldiers, and

5rhrLr-tSs;r::nd^:;«q
~r::::i:::::-rb^--

tZt^ -einto the world they h.ngh. nn^o
Wm those that were grievously vexed w,.h dev. .^ H.
^rdown before some of their Sebastopols of the evd

OONQUEEOB.

\,tivohoQn in the temptor
tlie commencement of our
.10 enemy endeavored to
;cr tlie same fasliion as lio
wlien wearied with labor,
Qco and suffering from the
Bt, he brought before him a

, to that which had been
iden. Ah '.but there was a
csh this time with whom ho
sword of the spirit, with its
inder the flimsy sophistries
and the discomfited demon
aigels came and ministered
their ambrosial wings his
,d their offices of kindness
)wing soul.

lered, the enemy retvirned to
grapple was in the perform-
astomary in ordinary warfare,
fortress is taken, for the con-
some of his own soldiers, and
lin in charge. The enemy
)on this plan, and in token of
er the human race, he caused
enter into the bodies of men.
tlie world they brought unto
vously vexed with devils. He
f their Sebastopols of the evil

THE HEAVENLY CONQUEKOK.

217

one, and as speaking by tluit high exorcism, ho at onco
dislodged the intruders ; and as, some in moody silence,
and others with piteous cries, they rushed out from the
places they had agonized, we can truce in their coiii-
phiiniiig the confession of their defeat : " What have
we to do with thee, Josus, thou Son of God. Art thou
come to torment us before the time ?"

The next was the ilcat/i (/rajjple. And was the cham-
pion smitten ? Did he bend beneath that felon's
stroke ? Was there victory at last for the powers of
hell ? Imagine, if you can, how there would be joy is
the breast of the evil one when the Saviour expired ;
how he would exult at that victory which had more
than recompensed the struggle of four thousand years.
Ilours roll on ; he makes no sign ; day and night suc-
ceed each other ; there is no break upon the slumber —
their victory appears complete and final. Shall no one
undeceive them? No; let them enjoy their triumph
as they may. It were cruel to disturb a dream like
that, which will have so terrible an awaking. But we,
brethren, with the light of eighteen hundred years
streaming down upon that gory field, understand the
matter better. He died, of course, for only thus could
death be abolished ; he was counted with transgressors,
of course, for thus only could sin be forgiven ; he was
made a curse for us, of course, because thus only could
he turn the curse into a blessing. O ! to faith's en-
lightened sight there is a surpassing glory upon that
cross. He was never so kingly as when girt about with

218 THE HEAVENLY OONQCKBOB.

that crown of tliorns ; there was never so much royalty
upon that regal brow as when he said, » It is finished,"

and he died.

Tliere only remains one more grapple, and that was in
the rising from the dead and ascension into /lea/ven. It is
considered the principal glory of a conqueror, you know,
not merely that he repels the aggressive attacks of his
enemy, but when he carries the war into that enemy's camp
and makes him own himself vanquished in the metropolis
of his own empire. Tliis Christ did by concealing himself
for a while within the chambers of the grave. Wo cannot
tell you much about the battle, for it was a night attack,
it took place in darkness ; but wc can tell the issue, because
on the morning of the third day the sepulchre was empty,
and the Ecdeemer had gone forth into Galilee. This
was only like the garnering up of the fruits of the
conflict. The cross had settled it. It was finished
when he said it was, upon the cross; but this was a
eudden surprise in the camp, when the guards were
drawn off, and the soldiers carousing in the flush of
fancied victory. By death he had abolished death—
him that had the power of death. By his resurrection
he spoiled principalities and powers ; and then he went
up that he might " make a show of them openly."
You can almost follow him as he goes, and the chal-
lenge is given as he rises and nears the gates of the
cekstial city : " Who is this that comcth from Edom
with dyed garments from Bozral this that is glorious
in his apparel travelling in the greatness of his

)NQCKBOU.

,8 never so much royalty
lie said, " It is finiBhed,"

grapple, and that was in
enslon into Jiemen. It is
f a conqueror, you know,
a'l'srressive attacks of his
•ar into that enemy's camp
iquishcd in the metropolis
aid by concealing himself

1 of the grave. "Wo cannot
, for it -was a night attack,

2 can tell the issue, because
the sepulchre was empty,
forth into Galilee. This
up of the fruits of the

tied it. It was finished
le cross ; but this was a
., when the guards were
carousing in the flush of
le had abolished death —
5ath. By his resurrection
powers ; and then he went
k show of them openly."
as he goes, and the chal-
id nears the gates of the
\ that comcth from Edom
ozra 1 this that is glorious
in the greatness of hi*

THE UKA.VKNLY CONQUEROR.

219

strength ?" And then comes the answer : " I that speak
in righteousness, mighty to save." " Lift up your
lieads, O ye gates ; and bo yo lifted up ye everlasting
doors ; and the King of glory shall come in. Who is
this King of glory ? The Lord strong and mighty, the
Lord mighty in battle. Lift up your licadsi, O yc
gates ; even lift them up yo everlasting doors ; and tho
King of glory shall come in."

" And through the portals wide outspread
The vast procession pours."

And on he marches through tho shining ranks of the
ransomed, until he gets to tho throne and points to the
captives of his bow and spear, and claims his recom-
pense. And " there is silence in heaven ;" and there is
given unto him " a name that is above every name ;
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, and
every tongue confess that he is Lord, to tho glory of
God the father." It is finished. Kow he rests from his
labors, and now he sheathes his sword, and now he
wears his crown.

III. Just a word or two upon the victory that he
gained. It was complete, it was benevolent, it was
unchanging.

The attack which tho Saviour made upon the enemy
was such as to tear away tho very sources and energies
of his power. ^Mark how each fresh onset, whether
from earth or hell, has only enhanced his glory and
brightened the conqueror's crown. He vanquished in

220

THE nKAVKNI.V CONQUKKOK.

bi8 own person by (lying, and in tho person of his fol-
lowers ho hiis contiuueil to niivnifest that indestructible
energy which was alwaya manifest jn>.t when it secincd
to be overthrown. Why, at tho coinmcnccnicnt of
Christianity would not any one have thonght that a
breath would annihilate it and exterminate the name
of its founder forever? And there they were—
Cajsar on the throne, Herod on the bench, Pilate in the
judgment-hall, Caiaphas in the temple, priests and
soldiers, Jews and Komans, all united together to crush
the Galilean, and the Galilean, overcame. And so it
has been in all ages until now. Prosecution has lifted
up her head against the truth ; war-wolves have lapped
up the blood of God's saints, and for a time silenced the
\\ itness of confessors, and the testimony of the faithful
has gone upward amid the crackling of fagots, and
the ascending flame has been the chariot of lire in
which rising Elijahs have mounted to heaven. And
not merely is the completeness of this triumph mani-
fested in the aggregate, but in the individual. Not
only is every man brought into a salvable state, but
every part of every man is redeemed. Tlie poor body
is not forgotten : it is taught to cast off the grave
clothes and anticipate an everlasting residence in
heaven. The mind crouches no longer ; it emancipates
itself from its vassalage and stands erect in the liberty
wherewith Christ made it free. And the whole man,
who was a while ago an alien, degraded and desolate, a
fitting companion of the beast in his lair, a worthy fol-

ONQUKKOK.

in the person of his fol-
iiifest that indestructible
ifest jut.t when it secincd

the coTmncnccnient of
no have thought that a
id cxtenninate the name
nd there they were—
1 the bench, Pih'ite in the
the temple, priests and
I united together to crush
m, overcame. And so it
V. Presecution has lifted

; war-wolves have lapped
ind for a time silenced the

testimony of the faithful

crackling of fagots, and
en the chariot of tire in
lounted to heaven. And
ess of this triumph mani-
t in the individual. Not

into a salvable state, but
edeemed. Tlie poor body
;ht to cast oft' the grave

everlasting residence in

no longer ; it emancipates
stands erect in the liberty
ee. And the whole man,
I, degraded and desolate, a
st in his lair, a worthy fol-

•nilO IIKAVKNI.V CONyUKROU.

221

lower iu the serpent's trail, is now " clothed and in his
right mind," careering along in the entui-prises of godli-
ness, a fellow-citizen with saints and the houseliold of God.
And then the triumphs of the Saviour are hencvohnt
too. Tell mo not of human glory, it is a prostituted
word. Tell mo not of Agincourt, and Cressy, and
Waterloo, and of the high jilaecs of Moloch worship,
where men have been alike both priests and victims.
One verse of the poet aptly describes them all :

" Last noon beheld them full of luafy lifo,

Lost eve in beauty's circle prouiliy gay.
The midnight brought the signal sound of strife ;

The morning marslialling in arms ; the day

Battle's magniflccnlly stern array,
The thunder cIouiI.h ditse o't'r it, wliich when rent,

The earth is covered quick with other clay,
Which her own clay sliall cover, heaped and pent.
Rider and horse, friend and foe, iu one rude burial blent ."

But what is it to be seen in the time of the Lord's
victory ? Plains covered with traces of recent carnage,
and of recent havoc ? What is there to bo heard in the
time of the Lord's victory ? Orphans wailing the dead,
widows bemoaning those that have departed ? No, but
a voice breathing down a comfortable word to men :
" Tliey shall neither hurt nor destroy in all my holy
mountain, saith the Lord." The procession of this
conqueror consists of saved souls, and eternity shall
consecrate the scene.
And then the triumphs of the Saviour are not only

222

TlUi HKAVKNLV OONtiUKKOK.

complete and benevolent, but unc/uuujuig. Tl.o tlunss
tbat are now arc very transi,.>ry. The sand of the
desert i. not uK.e unstable ; the chail of the Bnnnner

threshing-il..or is nut nu>re helpless on the w.nd; but
the Saviour's triun.phs bri^^hten ^vith the lapse uf time
tbcir lustre time can tarnish not, nor death i sell
destroy O! think 'of the multitude tluit have been
already saved ! think of the multitude who went up m
the early a;,^es of tbo Chureh with its enrie uaents ot
blessings ; think of those who had been taken oil o
heaven before they ever had time to sin.after the simili-
tude of A.lam's transgressi.m-souls ransomed by t]w
l,b.o<l of atonement taken from birth under the wing ot
the ouivering elierub right away into the realms of
blessedness and rest ; think of those from the time ot
the Saviour's inearnation until now who liave passed
throu.di death triumphant home ; think of the multi-
tudes'now upon earth that are working out their salva-
tion with fear and trembling ; think of tue still greater
nanltitudes that shall yet pre.s into the Clmreh m the
times of its millennial glory, ^vhen the gates of it shall
not be shut day or night, because there shall bo no
chance of shutting them, the people crowd in so fast.
O what a Jubilee in heaven ! O gathering of emanci-
pated spirits! Limit the extent of the atonement!
Who dares do it ? Talk about Christ dying for a few
scattered families of the sons of men merely ! Why, it
is to charge my Saviour with cowardice, and bring a
Blur upon his conduct in the field. If there be one

NliUKKOK.

nehnufjing. Tlio things
tory. The Baud of the
10 chaff of the suiiuncr
[)lcs^ oil the wind ; hut
1 with tlio hvpso of time;
, not, nor dentil itself
illitude thiit have hecn
nltitudo who went up in
witli its cm-ichinents of
» had been taken off to
inc to sin .after the siniill-
— souls ransomed hy tliv
I birth under the wing of
uvay into the realms of
jf those from the time of
il now who luvve passed
onie ; think of the nudti-
•c working out their salva-
; think of 1i-e still greater
S8 into the Church in the
when the gates of it shall
jecause there shall be no
Q people crowd in so fast.
! O gathering of emanci-
Dxtent of the atonement!
out Christ dying for a few
1 of men merely ! Why, it
th cowardice, and bring a
he field. If there bo one

•rilK UKAVKM.Y diNiiUKKOU.

22a

solitary soul the wide universe through for whom
Christ did nut die, over that soul death has triumphed,
and the conquest of my Saviour is imperfect and
incomplete. O ! he seems to staiul in his triumphal
chariot, in the very centre of the universe, witli
exulting heaven before and with^ tormented hell be-
hind ; and there is not an uneonquered rebel there but
the glad halleluiahs of the one, and the solemn acqni-
escenccs of the other, peal out the universe's anthem,
" Uo is Lord of all."

And now which side are you? Pardon the abrupt-
ness of the question, but answer it to your consciences
and to your tJod notwithstanding, "Which side are
you? There is no neutrality in this war, or if there be
one hero that intends to preserve a dastardly neutrality,
ho will got the hottest of the battle, and be e.\i)osed to
the cross-fire of both sides. Which side are vou ? Do
you belong to the Lord, or the Lord's enemies ? Ask
yourselves that question in the sight of God. I never
knew, until I looked upon it in this aspect, the force
and power of a certain question which the Saviour
presented in the days of his flesh. I have admired the
capacities of the human soul, that it has a memory that
can recall the past, imagination that can penetrate the
future : that it has a will that no man can tame, that it
has immortality as its heritage. But I see all heaven
in earnest there, and all hell in earnest yonder, and the
prize of the conflict is one poor human soul ; and then
I see, as I never saw before, what an intensity of

2-24 TUK HEAVENLY (JONyUKKOK.

l,,„a.U there i. i.. O.o ..ful in.luWy : "^•""jj;;^

L „wu .ouH" UrcO.run, l.o« .Lull it bo w.tl. oul
1; Vl" ."vcr .l,erer..,-o »1U l. a Iricn,. o the «o,l ,

(;.,(l irt bruu.'lit betbro iw >n the liiWlo . iHint,

;:;:;:rrrr:;:::;i---i-v.-;

. before you, which ha. alway. appeared to me to
,no of .he mo.t fearful iu the whole eompa- ot Ih
wi::f«„a:"W,,eutheu„e,oa„.pjriti.go,.oute

a ,„«,i"-uuirk it, it doe. not Bay wheu ho .. dr.ven
„u, ,U„. no, .ay when he i» di.po.e.,ed by Buperto
1 or.; but the awful i.lea, ahnoBt too a,riul lob

:::;ai'ued, U that there are .ou,e poop e .n Un. «rh

of ours of whout Satau h «o sure that he ean leav.

W L a while, pefeetly eertalu that they wdUweep

„„d «arm.h hi. house in hi. abseuee, and l-l'' -' '^

seven other spirit, u.oro inveterate and eruel- -When

e .nelean 'spirit is gone out of a ■"-";-"«';' '
through dry place., seeking rest, and hndeth non^
S en he saitl' I will return unto ,uy house. O
mockery of that ,uiet empire 1 " To m.j house The

enatcy has not ihauged; he know, full well there ,.

00 much love of the nut..er's .erviee in the heart ol
the man for that. "I will return in.o "'? ''T" '^^";

vhenec I came o..f, and when he is come he hndcth ■

empty, swept and famished. Then goeth he, and

UONyllKROB.

1 iiKiuiry : " Wluit tAiM it
th« whole woild, iiiul loHO
,)W blmll it bo with you J
,0 a triciul of the worUl, in

doom of tl»o cuciuioB of
tho Bil.lo : " Bring Idthur

Ul not I hUouM roi^'ii over
mc." t)ii whidi Bido urn

, that 1 Bhould just like to
, always appeared to mc to

1 tho wholo compass of tho
luclcan spirit is gone out of
not say when ho is driven
) is dinpossesscd by superior
ea, almost too awful to be
•0 some people in this world

BO sure that ho can leave
certain that they will sweep
9 absence, and prepare it for
vcterate and cruel-" When
) out of a man he walketh
ing rest, and lindeth none,
iturn unto my house." O
)irc 1 " To mi/ house." The
i ho knows full well there is
iter's service in the heart of
I return into my house from
when he is come he tindeth it
ished. Then goeth he, and

rill'; UKAVKNLY CwNyUKUOK,

L>25

tiilceth with himst'lf sovcn 4»ltier spirits moro wickt'd
flian liiinsc'lf, mid tlicy ciifi" in and dwrll there; iiml
tli(! last state of that man is wdi'sc than the fnvt." Oli
liorrlble 1 horrible ! Xot mcrt'ly to have Satan uk a
j^upst, but to sweep and j^arnish tho house that he nitiy
(•(line in, and that ho nniy bring witli him Bovcn other
spirits moro wicked than himself. And are you doing
that? Is there one in the ])rescn('e of (lod to-night to
whom this awful passage will apply ? Oh, 1 thiink (Jod
1 can preach to you a present salvation in the name
Jesus. Bo delivered from that bondngo of yours, for
Christ has come down on purpose that he may deliver,
and that ho may rescue, and ho goeth forth conrpiering
and to conquer. " Ask, and it shall bo given you ;
sock, and yo shall iind ; knock, and it shall bo oponeil
unto you." There is salvation fur you from the power
of death, and from tho thralldom and ascendency of
besotting sin, and from tho grasp of tho destroyer.
There is salvation for you in Christ Jesus tho Lord.
Wherefore ho is able to save to the uttermost of human
guilt, to tho uttermost of human life, to tho uttermost
of human time. May God help you, for Christ's sake.

10*

IX.

THE CHEISTIAN'S DEATH, LIFE, PROSPECTS,
AXD DUTY.

" Set your affections on things above, not on tilings on tlie cartli. For
ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God. When Christ, who
is our life, shall appear, then shall ye also appear with him in glory." —
CoLLOssiANS iii. 3, S, 4.

In the former part of this delightful and valuable
epistle, the Apostle has been reminding the Colossians
of their privileges, and the covenant blessings which
they inherited in Christ. He tells them that they have
entered upon a new dispensation, that the bystem of
types and shadows has accomplished its purpose, and
has been fulfilled, that their circumcision was of the
heart, in the spirit, and not in the letter, and that they
were " complete in Christ, who is the head of all prin-
cipality and power." Lest, however, by these con-
siderations, any of them should be exalted above
measure, he urges them that they live unto God, tells
tliem that, although freed from the yoke of ceremonial
observance, their obligation to obey was as strict and as
binding as ever, and though no longer impelled by
slavish and spiritless fear, the love of Christ should con

228

TUK CUBISTIAN fl DEATH,

Strain them to a closer evangelical obedience. There is
no antinomianisin, brethren, in the Gospel ; it tells us
tliat faith without works is dead ; that however largely
it may talk about its knowledge of the better land,
however it may imagine itself to be exalted through the
abundance of its revelations, if it do not work by love
and purity of heart, if it do not exert a transforming
influence upon the character and life, there is no sound-
ness in it, and it is but a specious and delusive mim-
ickry of the faith which saves. Tlie Apostle, in impress-
ing this fact upon their minds, takes hallowed ground ;
he seems to remind them of their privileges, that ho
may the more effectually insist upon their duty ; and
for the grandeur of their blessings, he urges their entire
consecration to God. "If ye then be risen with Christ,"
if ye be merged from the obscurity of the old dispen-
sation unto the strength and beauty of the new, if ye
have power over sin, if, by virtue of communion with
your Saviour, ye are justified by taith, sanctified by the
Spirit, and travelling to heaven, "seek those things that
are above ;" be at home in heaven ; let your desires
cluster there, and let there be a gathering of your hopes
around th« throne ; let your affections fasten upon that
radiant seat " where Christ sitteth on the right hand of
God." lie then repeats the exhortation, and assigns
reasons for its performance, in the language of the text,
" Set your ailcctions on things above, not on things on
the earth. For ye are dead, and your life is hid with
Christ in God. When Christ, who is our life, shall

i DEATH,

LIFE, PROSPECTS, AND DUTY.

229

cal obedience. There is

the Gospel : it tells us

\ ; that however largely

ilge of the better land,

be exalted through the
f it do not work by love
lot exert a transforming
nd life, there is no sound-
ccions and delnsive mim-

Tlie Ai)06tle, in impress-
, tahcs hallowed ground ;

their privileges, that he
st upon their duty; and
ings, he urges their entire
hen be risen with Christ,"
icurity of the old dispen-

beauty of the new, if yo
irtue of communion with
by taith, sanctified by the
in, "seek those things that
heaven ; let your desires

a gathering of your hopes

affections fasten upon that

ttcth on the right hand of

exhortation, and assigns

1 the language of the text,
gs above, not on things on

and your life is hid with
ist, who is our life, shall

appear, then shall ye also appear with him in
glory."

There are four things presented to us in these words :
the Christian's death, the Christian's life, the Christian's
prospects, and the Christian's duty ; an ineffable blend-
ing of precept and promise, upon which, for a few
moments, it may profit us to dwell.

I. The first thing that strikes ns, is the Christian's
death. "For," says the Apostle, "ye are dead." Is
not this somewhat of a paradox ? Docs not Christ say
expressly, that he came not to destroy men's lives, but
to save them? "Was it not one of the purposes of his
coming, that we might have life, and that avc might
have it more abundantly ? Was it not one of the
designs of his incarnation, that from the fountain of his
own underived existence, he might replenish the veins
of man, even to life everlasting ? And yet, when we
enter upon his service, the very first thing we arc told
to do is to die. Who shall solve the enigma ? Only
the Scripture, by becoming, as it always docs, the
authorized and satisfactory intei-preter of itself. In St.
Paul's Epistle to Timothy, you find this rciarkable ex-
pression : " She that liveth in pleasure is dead while
she liveth." You have no difiiculty in understanding
that to mean dead in spiritual things. In that pleasure-
loving heart there beats no pulse for God ; in that
spirit, around which the world has flung the spells of
its witchery, there is no desire for heaven ; the
pleasures of sense engross it, and, although compassed

230 THE CHRISTIAu'd DKAID,

by the realities of the other vrov\<\, its very exiBtenco is
treated as a queetion or a fable. Now, just the reverse
of this, morally considered, will explain to us the state
of the Christian when the Apostle tells us he is dead.
The fact is, that between the flesh and the spirit, there
is a bitter and irreconcilable enmity; the one cannot
exist in the presence and by the side of the other.
That which has been garnished for the temple of the
Lord, must not be profaned by an idol.. Distinct and
solemn, and authoritative is the inspired announcement,
"Whosoever will he the friend of the world is the
enemy of God." Impiety has entered into an unholy
compact to amalgamate these two, to adjust their
claims, to give them a division of service; but it is a
covenant with death— it shall be disannulled ; it is an
acrreement with hell-it shall not stand. Ecligion
peals out her refusal of such reluctant allegiance, lays
the gi-asp of her claim upon the entire nation, and tells
us in tones of power, "Ye can not serve God and mam-
mon." The Christian, then, who is a Christian indeed,
regards the world as if it were not, and continually
endeavors to exemplify that his life and conversation
arc in heaven. His differences from the world may not,
indeed, be apparent to a supeiiicial observer ; he goes
to and fro among the people like other men ; he takes
an interest in the ever-shifting concerns that are passing
in the world around him ; and yet he is dead to the
world all the while. How are you to find it out ? Try
him with some question of difficulty; set his duty

DKAin,

LIFE, PROSPECTS, AND DUTT.

231

rkl, its very existence is
Now, just the reverse
I explain to us the state
Btle tells us he is dead.
2sh and the spirit, there
enmity; the one cannot

the side of the other,
d for the temple of the
y an idol. ^ Distinct and
J inspired announcement,
nd of the world is the

entered into an unholy
ic two, to adjust their
1 of service; but it is a

be disannulled ; it is an
ill not stand. EcHgion
reluctant allegiance, lays
lie entire nation, and tells
1 not serve God and mam-
,vho is a Christian indeed,
rere not, and continually
his life and conversation
;8 from the world may not,
)ei-ficial observer ; he goes
like other men ; he takes
w concerns that are passing
ad yet he is dead to the
re you to find it out ? Try
f difficulty; set his duty

before him, and let that duty be painful, and let it
involve some considerable deprivation of gain or of
pleasure; and with sclf-.«acriiicing di'volion, ho will
obey the truth, and glory in tlie trial. Mark him in the
midst of circumstances of discouragement and woe,
when waters of a full cup are wrung out to liim ; he is
sustained by an energy of which the world wotteth not,
nerved with a principle to which it is an utter stranger;
richer blood animates him, loftier inspirations sparkle
from his eye, and though surrounded by the things of
sense, and of course in some sort influenced by their
impressions upon him, he tells you plainly that he seeks
a country, nay, that he has already " risen with Christ,"
and that ho lives in the land which is at once his
treasury and his home.

"We may illustrate the Apostle's meaning again by a
reference to another passage ; that in which he speaks
of " always bearing about in the body the dying of the
Lord Jesus." Tlie primary reference of the Apostle is to
the sufferings which himself and his compatriots were
called upon to undergo in attestation of the resurrection
of Christ, Tlie enemies oi the cross, those who were
doing their utmost to destroy Christianity, were per-
plexed and baffled by the disappearance of the Saviour
from the tomb ; and to account for the mystery, they
charged the apostles with the felony of their master's
body. Tims two statements were put forth directly
opposite in character and tendency ; the rulers said the
l)ody was stolen ; the apostles said the body had risen.

ago THE christian's DKATU,

Tho latter could not be disproved ; but bo intense was
^ZnUy against tbe Kazareno, that pe.ecu.on

l,,ppi y in this case, incUcctual argun.ents-to s lencc
ii.ippu) HI The ADOBtlo rctcre to tins

the procluimers of the trull.. iHc ApoBi
i„ tl e words that are now before us, and tc Us thcnYu
1- bat though famine might draw the lire from h,s
and long-continued suffering might repress and
Pennine tlfe buoyancy of his spirit, and though In
flesh nnght creep and quail beneath the pressure of
these agonies, and though in all these ways he nnght
W about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus,
y l^^the patience with which those sufferings were
boi^e by he consolations which abounded m tho
nlllt of them, nay, by the ..t of the sufferings U.m-
.elvos, he could point to his ^^^<^^^^^^:^''^^
and say that not the dying only, but the life, the nn-
,nortal life of Jesus was every moment manifested there
But we are not disposed to limit this l>e-ng abov.t m
the body the dving of the Lord Jesus to apostolic times
It is not'a thing of one generation merely. We are not
now called upon, as were our fathers, to do it m tbo fu -
nace; the fires of outward persecution have well-nig
forgotten to burn ; but it has an existence still as ac ua
and as constant as in days of yore. The Christian
does so every moment of his life, because every
„,oment of his life he exercises faith m Christ. And
his foith is not only active and appropriating, but
realizing in its tendency: it not only unfolds to him

n's dkatu,

roved ; but bo intense was
S^azarcno, that percccutiou
,^0 ^,f_i.oinpcndiou8, bnt,
tual argnincnts— to silence

The ApoBtlo rotcre to this
etbre us, and tells them in
night draw the fire from his
itfcring might repress and
f his spirit, and though his
il beneath the pressure of
in all these ways he might
ic dying of the Lord Jesus,
which those sufferings were
IS which abounded in the
: iiict of the sufferings theni-
i marred and shattered body,
g only, but the life, the ini-
3ry moment manifested there.
) limit this bearing about in
Lord Jesus to apostolic times,
leration merely. We are not
our fathers, to do it in the fur-
d persecution have well-nigh
has an existence still as actual
ays of yore. The Christian

of his life, because every
serciscs faith in Christ. And
ctivo and appropriating, but
': it not only imfolds to him

LIFK, PKOSI'EOTS, AND DU'lT.

2S\i

the riches and confers on hini the blessings of the
miglity offering; it itaiuts it as a living vision before
tlio eye of his mind. Darting back thruugh two
thousand years of i)ast time, it places him in the midst
of tliu crowd gathered at the crucifixion, aye, at the very
foot of the cross. lie sees the victim ; there is no delu-
sion in the matter ; ho walks along the thronged and
bustling streets ; men cross his path in haste, speeding
away, the one to his farm and the other to his mer-
chandise; he converses with a thousand beings, he
transacts a thousand things; but that scene is over
before him ; as the magnet of his highest attractions,
his eye always trembles to the cross, and in the midst
of evidence fresher every moment he joins in the cen-
turion language, his glad language too, "Truly this man
was the Son of God." With such a spectacle as that
before him, how can he live unto the world ? AVith the
glances of so kind an eye constantly beaming upon him,
liow can his desires be on earth ? Heaven claims liim,
for his treasure and his heart are there. Nay, so
entirely does this death unto sin— for I suppose you
have found out that is what we mean— take possession
of the Christian, that, as the Apostle in another idace
expresses it, he is "crucified with Christ." He is not
only an anxious spectator, he is something more, he is a
livino- sacrifice. He has his cross. As Christ died for
sin, he dies to sin, and they both conquer by dying.
As by the dying of the Saviour, the power of death was
tlestroyed, and the world was freed from his dominion,

234:

•rnK ciikistian's ukatii,

80 by the living of the sinner, the principln of evil ib
dethroned, \ho new heart is gained, and the man
becomes " a new creature in Christ Jesus."

This is M-hat M-o imagine the Apostle to mean when ho
says of Christians, "Ye are dead;" and as it is only
wi.en we have thus died that we can bo truly saul to
live, allow us to ask you if yoti are thus dead unto sui
and alive unto God ? Have you realized this death
unto sin, or this birth unto righteousness? Has this
deep, abiding change passed upon you? Or are you
still living to the world, the circle of this life your
bounded pros]iect, and its tleeting enjoyments your only
reward? Examine yourselves, brethren, and may the
Spirit help vou to a right decision !

11. We pa^s upward from the truth of death to tlio
truth of life. « For ye arc dead," says the Apostle,
'' and your life"— a life that you have notwithstanding
that seeming death-" is hid with Christ in God." In
the creation of God there seems to be nothing absolute
or final; everything ecems rather in a rudimentary
state— a state in which it is susceptive of increase,
development, expansion, improvement. It is so in
nature. The seed is cast into the earth ; years elapse
before there are the strength and shadow of the tree.
The harvest waves not in its luxuriant beauty at once ;
" there is first the blade, then the ear, after that the full
corn in the ear." And what is thus possible in the ordi-
nary processes of nature is capable of spiritual analogies.

HEATH,

i.iKK, ruosruow, and ddtv.

the principle of evil in
gained, and the man
rist Jcrtiis."

ipostlc to mean -when ho
•lid;" and us it irf only
\vc can 1)0 truly said to
I are thus dead unto sin
you realized this death
ightcousness ? Has this
ipon you? Or are you
circle of this life your
njr cnjoytnents your only
, hre'thrcn, and may the
;ion !

lie truth of death to the
lead," says the Apostle,
on have notwithstanding
,vith Christ in God." In
ns to be nothing absolute
•ather in a rudimentary
s susceptive of increase,
>rovcment. It is so in
) the earth; years elapse
and shadow of the tree.
luxuriant beauty at once ;
the ear, after that the full
s thus possible in the ordi-
able of spiritual analogies.

Man ends not in his present condition. The very im-
perfections with which it is fraught, shadow fortli a
niigliticr being. It would seem as if glimpses of tliis
great truth sliot across the niinda of the sages of ancient
Clrcece and ]{ome. It is interesting to watch tlieir
minds in their various and continual operations, espe-
cially when, as it were, brought out of themselves, to
sec them struggling with some great principle just glow-
ing upon them from the darkness of previous thought,
to see them catching occasional glimpses of truth in the
distance, and i)rossing forward, if haply they might
comprehend it fully. It must have been in one of those
very ecstasies that the idea of immortality first dawned
upon them ; for, after all, crude and imperfect as their
notions were, (hey must l»o regarded ralher as conjec-
ture than opinion. It was reserved for Christianity, by
her complete revelations, to bring life and immortality
to light, to unfold this master-purpose of the Eternal
Mind, and to give permanence and form to her impres-
sions^f the life that dies not. You remember that the
inspired Avriters, Avhcn speaking about the present state
of being, scarcely dignify it w'ith the name of life, com-
pared with the life to be expected; but they tell us
tliero is provided for us, and awaiting us, a life worthy
of our highest approbation, and of our most cordial en-
deavor ; a life solid, constant, and eternal. This is the
jiromise " which he hath promised us " — as if there wore
no other, as if all others were wrapped up in that great

'_';{•;

THK CUUIdlUN'tf ItKATH,

benediction—" tluB is the promiso which ho hiith pro-
ini.;t'd us, even eternal life;" un<l of this life tliey tell U8
tliat it irt "hid witli Ciirist in Ood."

It id liiddon, in the lirst ].lace, in the sense of Hoorocy ;
it h concealed, i)artially deveK)ped ; wo do not know
much ahont it. lievehition has not been niinuto in her
discoveries of the better land. Enongh has been re-
vealed to confirm onr contidcnce and to exalt our faith.
The outlines of the purpose arc sketched out before us,
but the details are withheld. Hence, of the life to come
the Apostle tells us that «'wo know in part, wo sec
as through a glass darkly ;" through a piece of smoked
glass like that thrt>ngh which we look at an eclipse of
the sun ; our senses can give us no inlonnation concern-
ing it, for it is heyond their province ; reason cannot
Hiid it out, for it haiiles her proudest endeavors. "VVe
nay go to the depth in search of this wisdom: "the
d 'pth saith, It is not in me." Imagination may plume
her linest pinion, and revel in the ideal magnificence
she can bring into being ; she may so exalt and amplify
the images of the lite that is, as to picture forth the life
that will be; it is a hidden life still, for it hath not en-
tered into the heart of man to conceive it; shadows
dense and impervious hang on its approach ; clouds and
darkness are round about its throne. And wo are
equally destitute of information from experience. None
of those white-robed companies, who have enjoyed this
life from the beginning, have been commissioned to
explain to us its truths ; none of those now vcnerablo

D DKATII,

iiiso which he hath pro-
id of this lifo tiicy tell Ufi
lod."

', in tho Rciisti of Bocrccy ;
lulled ; wo do not know
s not been niinuto in her
I. Enough has been re-
ce and to exalt our faith,
■c sketched out before us,
Hence, of the life to come
e know in part, wo eec
irough u piece of smoked
we look at an eclipse of
iri no information concern-
province ; reason cannot
proudest endeavors. Wo
eh of this wisdom: "tho
Imagination may plume
n the ideal magnificence
may so exalt and amplify
as to picture forth tho life
fo still, for it hath not cn-
1 to conceive it; shadows
1 its approach ; clouds and
is throne. And wo are
m from experience. None
les, who have enjoyed this
ve been commissioned to
e of those now vcnerablo

LIFE, rR0?lI'ECT8, AND DVTY.

287

ones, wlio have iravclled tho road, who have cxjierionced
the change, have returned ; they eonH> not full frunght
with the tidings of eternity to tell to tlio heedful multi-
fades tales from beyond the grave. Those dark atul
nilent chambers cHectually cut oil" all cominunicatiou
l)etween tho mortal and the changed. We may interro-
gate the spirits of tho departed, but there is no voice,
not oven the echo of our own. AVo do not complain of
this secrecy, because we believe it to be a secrecy of
mercy. Tlio eye of tho mind, like tho eye of tho body,
was dazzled with excess of light ; and if the full reali-
ties of the lifo to como were to burst upon us, we should
be dazzled into blindness ; there would bo a wreck of
reason, and the balance of tho mind's powers would bo
irrecoverably gone. Moreover, wo Avalk by faith, not
by sight, and a fuller revelation would neutralize sojuo
of the most efficient means for the preservation of
spiritual life, and bring aiuirchy and discord into tho
beautiful arrangements of God. Thus i^ this hiding
beneficial ti believers. Yes, and 1 will go further than
that : to the sinner it is a sccreey of mercy. "Wonder
not at that. Imagine not that if this vacant area could
be filled to-day with a spirit of perdition, with tho
thunder scar of the Eternal on his brow, and his heart
writhing under tho blasted immortality of hell, then
surely if ho could tell the secrets of his prison-houeo
those who are now among the impenitent would be
affrighted, and repent and turn. " I tell you nay, for
if they hear not Moses and the prophets neither would

»,oj^ THE CUntBTlAN's DKATH,

they bo persuaded though one were to rise from tlio

dciul."

Just mmtl.cr thou-ht hero on this hcnd. E^rcciAlly
is this lite hidden in the ponsc of Beerocy, in the hour
and the article of death. An awful change passes npon
one we love, and who has loved the Lord Jesus Christ.
lie looks pale and motionless; wo sec not the glances
of his eye, wo hear not the music of his voice, and as he
lies stretched breathless in his Blumbcrs, it is very difli-
cult to believe that l»o is not dead. " But he is not dead,
but slcepeth." Can you credit it, O yo mourners I Is
there no chord in your stricken hearts, yo bereaved
ones, that trembles responsivo to the tone, "ho is not
dead, but sleepeth ?" His life is with him yet as warm,
and as young, and as energetic as in days gone by; only
it is hidden " with Christ in God." AVe mourn you not,
ye departed ones that have died in the faith, for yo have
entered into life. Natural affection bids us weep, and
give your tombs the tribute of a tear, but wo dare not
recall you. Yo live ; wc arc the dying ones ; ye live in
the smilo and blessing of God. Our life is "hid witli

Christ in God."

And then it is hidden, secondly, not only in tho
Bense of secrecy, but in the sense of security, laid up,
treasured up, kept safely by the power of Christ. Tlic
great idea seems to be this : tho enemy of God, a Hon
broken loose, is going roimd the universe in search of
the Christian's life, that ho may undermine and destroy
it ; but he cannot find it ; God has hidden it ; i*' is hid-

c
I
tl
y,
n:

l>
P<
\)
tl]

P«
Pi
lo

were to riso from tlio

n IhiB hcnd. EKpcclAlly
! of BiHTOcy, in the ho\ir
wful cliange passoa upon
d tho Lord Jobub Christ.
, -wo 6C0 not tho ghvnccs
sic of his voieo, nnd aa he
BhimhcrH, it is very difH-
[id. " But he is not dead,
t it, O ye mourners i Is
ken hcurts, yo bereaved
to the tone, " he is not
is with him yet ns warm,
! as in days gone by ; only
od." "\Vc mourn you not,
^d in the faith, for yo have
foctiou bids ns weep, and
>f a tear, but wo dare not
tho dying ones ; ye live in
d. Our life is " hid witli

ccondly, not only in tho
Bcnso of security, laid up,
tho power of Christ. Tlic
tho enemy of God, a lion
the universe in search of
lay undermine and destroy
>d has hidden it ; i*- is hid-

I.IKK, I'KOsl'KCTfl, AND DfTT.

230

<Ion with Christ in God. It is a very uncertain and
|.ri.,anon8 tenure upon Avliidi wo lioKl all our i>oh808
HomlwA-o; everything cuniurtcd will, tho present lifo
isllucting; i.lans lurmed in ovrrhight and executed in
wisdom arc, by adverse circunihtanceH, rendered abor-
five ftud iruitle^H ; gourds grow for our shade, ajid wo
sit under tlum with delight; tho mildew comcH, and
they arc withered ; friends twine themselves around
our aUcclions, and ns we come to know them well an<l
lyvo Ihcm, they arc nure to die; and upon crumbling
arcli. and ruined wall, and l.attlcmented height, and
cheeks all pale that but awhile ago blu^^hed at the
praise of their own loveliness, old Time lias graven in
the word of tho preacher, that there is nothing un-
changeable in num except his tendency to change.
But it is a characteristic of tho future life, that it^is
that which abideth ; the lapse of time affects not those
who live eternally ; theirs is inmiortal youth ; no ene-
my, however organized and im'ghty, can avail to de-
prive them of it; no opposition, however subtilo and
powerful, can wrest it from him with whom it is secure.
Where is it hidden ? With Chri.t ; the safest place in
the universe, surely, for anything belonging to Christ's
people. Where he is, in that land irradiated with his
presence, and brightening under tho sunshine of his
love ; on that mountain whoso sacred inclosure God's
glory pavilions, and within which there shall in nowise
enter anything that shall hurt or destroy. Where is
this hidden ? In God, in the great heart of God, who

„.Q THE christian's DEATH,

i8 never faithless to Lis promise, and whose perfections
are pledged to confer it npon persevevlng believers.
Oh, we will not fear. Unbelief may suggest to ns its
thoughts of suspicion and warning ; fear may shrink
back appalled from a way so untried and dangerous;
passion may stir our unruly elements in our too carnal
minds, and presumptuously fight against our faith; our
ancient enemy may do his best to aggravate mto in-
tenser force Ihe giant war ; but we will not fear ; our
life shall be given to us, for it is hidden with Christ m
God. Even now, in the prospect, we feel a jo^ of
which the world wotteth not-heart-warm, fervent,
entrancing, a joy which we may suffer to roam un-
checked in its raptures because it is based upon the

truth divine.

III. We pass on, thirdly, to the Christian's prospects.
" When Christ, who is our life, shall appear, then shaU
ye also appear with him in glory."

•niese words imply two things : first, enjoyment ; and
secondly, manifestation.

They imply, first, enjoyment. We observed before,
that revelation has not been minute in her discoveries
of the better land ; wo have the outlines of the puqjose
before us, but the details are withheld ; and yet enough
is revealed not merely to fulfill, but to exalt our highest
hopes. The similitudes under which the recompense is
presented in Scripture cannot fail to fill us with antici-
pations of the most delightful kind. It is brought be-
fore us, you remember, as an inheritance, incorruptible

stian's death,

n-omisc, and whose perfections
t upon persevevlng believers.
rnbelief may suggest to ns its
id warning ; fear may shrink
ay so untried and dangerous ;
•uly elements in our too carnal
sly figlit against our faith ; our
his best to aggravate into in-
:ar ; but we will not fear ; our
for it is hidden with Christ in
le prospect, wo feel a jo^ of
eth not— heart-warm, tervent,
h w^e may suffer to roam un-
i because it is based upon the

dly, to the Christian's prospects,
nir life, shall appear, then shall
I in glory."
ro things: first, enjoyment; and

joyment. We observed before,
, been minute in her discoveries
have the outlines of the puqjose
Is are withheld ; and yet enough
to fulfill, but to exalt our highest
f under which the recompense is
cannot fail to fill us with antici-
lightful kind. It is brought bc-
, as an inheritance, incorruptible

LIFE, PROSPECTS, AND DDTY.

241

and undcfiled; as a paradise ever vernal and blooming;
and, best of all, amid those trees of Hie there lurks no
serpent to destroy; as a coimtry through whose vast
region wo shall traverse with untired footsteps, and
every fresh revelation of beauty will augment our
Imowledge, and holiness, and joy; as a city whose
every gate is of jcweh'y, wliot;e every street is a sun-
track, whose wall is a)i immortal bulwark, and whose
ever-spreading splendor is the glory of the Lord ; as a
temple through which gusts of praise are perpetually
BAveeping the anthems of undying hosannas ; above all,
as our Father's house where Clirist is, where our elder
brother is, making the house ready for the younger
ones, wheiA all we love is clustered, where the out-
flowings cf parental affection thrill and gladden, and
where the mind is spell-bound, for aye, amid the sweet
Borccries of an everlasting home. Is there no enjoy-
ment in images like these ? Does not the very thought
of them make the fleet blood rush the fleeter through
the veins ? And yet these and far more are the pros-
pects of the Christian : knowledge without the sliadow
of an error, and increasing throughout eternity ; friend-
ship that never unclasps its hand, or relaxes from its
embraces ; holiness without spot or wrinkle, or any such
thing ; tlie presence of God in beatific and imperishable
vision, combine to make him happy each moment, and
to make him happy forever.

Tlien these word", imply manifestation as well as
en]oyment, "When Christ, who is our life, shall

2^2 TUE CURIStTTn's DKATII,

appear, then BLall ye also appear .vitb l^^ni in glory/'
1 e world says: "You talk about your ht. beu.g lad-
den ; the faet is, it is lost ; it is only a .loss of yom. to
say it is hidden." But it is not lost, it is only I'^d^- ;
an'l .-hen Christ, .'ho has it, shall appear, |^then ah:^!
ye also appear," to the discomfiture of scoffers and f
the admirati ,n of all them that believe ; "then shall ye
also appear with him in glory. Tl.e worldling looks at
Christians now, and, in some of his refleetive moods, he
finds a great difference between them, but it is a diffe-
.ouce he can hardly understand. With his usual short-
BiMitedncss, and with his usual self-complacency, he
imagines the advantage to be altogether upon h.s own
side • he looks at the outside of the man, and judges
foolik judgment. Terhaps he glances at his garments,
and they are tattered, it may be, and homely, and he
turns away with affected disdain. Ah! he knows not
that beneath that beggar's robe there throbs a princes
soul. Wait a while; bide your time; stop until the
manifestation of the sons of God. With what different
feelings will earth's despised ones be regarded at the
bar of judgment and before the throne divine 1 How
will they appear when they are confessed, recognized,
lionored, in the day when he is ashamed of the wicked,
and when the hell beneath and the hell withm will
make them ashamed of themselves? "Beloved,"^ sap
tlic rejoicing Apostle, "now arc we the sons of God;^
that is something, that is no mean gift, that is no small
bestowment, to have that in hand; "now are we th.

i DEATH,

car witli bim in glory."
out your life being bid-
only a ?;lo68 of yours to
)t lost, it is only bidden ;
ball appear, " tben sball
fiture of scoffers and t»
believe ; " tben sball ye
Tlie worldling looks at
f bis reflective moods, be
n tbem, but it is a diffe-
i. "NVitb bis usual sbort-
aal self-complacency, be
altogctbcr upon bis own
of tbo man, and judges
-i glances at bis garments,
l)c, and bomely, and be
lain. Ab! be knows not
ibe tbere tbrobs a prince's
our time; stop until tbe
5od. "Witb wbat different
ones be regarded at tbe
tbe tbrone divine 1 IIow
are confessed, recognized,
is asbamed of tbe wicked,
and tbe bell witbin will
nsclvcs? "Beloved," says
arc wo tbe sons of God ;''
mean gift, tbat is no small
1 band ; " now are we tha

LIFE, PR08PKCT8, AND DUTY.

243

sons of God." " Salvation," it is as if tbe Apostle had
said, " is a small tbing, a tbing uuwortby of God ;" it is
a small tbing to take a captive out of a dungeon, and
turn bim loose upon tlie cold world's cruel scorn ; it is
a grand tbing to take a captive out of a dungeon, and
set bim on a tbrone ; and tbat is done witb all those
wlio believe on Jesus: being justified by faith, tliey
have peace witb God through our Lord Jesus Christ.
" And if children " (for they have received the adop-
tion of sons), " then heirs, heirs of God, and joint-heirs
witb Christ." Oh ! salvation is not to be named in con-
nection with the grand, the august, the stately splendor,
the sonship, which is given unto those who put their
trust in Christ. "Beloved, now are we tbe sons of
God ; but it doth not yet appear what we shall be ;" so
transcendent, so sur; vsMxig is the recompense, that we
cannot conceive it jk "it doth not yet appear what
we shall be ;" it do:' t ■ et appear even to ourselves ;
we sball be as much astonished at tbe splendor of tbe
recompense as any one beside. Ob ! when we are
launched into tbe boundless, when the attentive ear
catches the first tones of heaven's melody, when tbere
burst upon the dazzled eye the earliest glimpse of
beatific vision, how shall we be ready almost to doubt
our own identity — " Is this I ? It cannot be the same.
Is this the soul tbat was racked witb anxiety and
dimmed witb prejudice, and stained with sin ? Is this
tbe soul whoso every passion was its tempter, and tbat
was harassed with an all-absorbing fear of never reach-

TUli OURISTIAN'b UEATU,

ing heaven? Why, not an enemy molests it now; not

a tln-ob shoots across it now ; those waters that used to

look so angry and so boisterous, hov peacefully they

ripple upon the everlasting shore; and this body, once

so frail and so mortal, is it, can it be, the same ? Why,

the cyo dims not now ; the cheek is never blanched

with sudden pain ; the fingers are not awkward now ;

but, without a teacher, they strike the harp of gold, and

transmit along the echoes of eternity the song of Moses

and the Lamb. Thic is conjecture, you say ; not, we

hope, unwarranted ; but even now, dark as our glimpse

is, unworthy as our conceptions are of the promised

recompense, there is enough to exalt us into the poet's

ecstasy, when, throned upon his own privilege, he

Buigs :

*' On all the kings of earth
With pity we look down ;
And claim, in virtue of our birth,
A never-fading crown."

IV. And now, then, you arc ready for the duty, I
am sure. " For your life is hid Avith Christ in God.
When Christ, who is our life, shall appear, then shall
ye also appear with him in glory." " Set your affection
on things above." Oh, how solemnly it comes, with all
this exceeding weight of privilege to back it! It
silences the qoestion urged, it overrides gamsay; it is
emphatic and solemn, and to the Christian resistless.
"Set your affections on things above." For a Christian
to be absorbed in tiie gainfulness of the world, or fasci-

'b UEATU,

lemy molests it now ; not
those watci-G that used to
oiis, hov peacefully they
ore ; and this body, once
nit be, the same? "Why,
cheek is never blanched
3 are not awkward now;
trike the harp of gold, and
jternity the song of Moses
jccture, you eay ; not, we
now, dark as our glimpse
ions are of the promised
;o exalt us into the poet's
n his own privilege, he

i of earth
I look down ;
■irtue of our birth,
ig crown."

are ready for the duty, I
hid Avith Christ in God.
b, shall appear, then shall
lory." " Set your affection
solemnly it comes, with all
privilege to back it! It
it overrides gainsay; it is
to the Christian resistless.
;s above," For a Christian
ness of the world, or fasci-

LIKK, I'KOSrKcrS, AND DUTY.

2io

nated by its pleasures, is at once a grievous infatuation
and a bin. It id as if a prince of high estate and regal
lineage were to demean himself in the haunts of beg-
gars, to the loss of dignity and imperilling the honor of
his crown. What have you, the blood-royal of heavtii,
to do with this vain and fleeting show ? Arise, depart ;
this is not your rest; it is polluted. And yet how
many of you have need of the exhortation this morning,
" Set your affections on things above ?" Have you not
— now let the spirit of searching come unto you — have
you not, by your cupidity, avarice, and huckstering lust
of gain, distanced the world's devotees in what they
had been accustomed to consider their own pecidiar
walk? Have you not trodden so near the line of
demarcation between professor and ]u-ofane, that you
have almost trodden on it, and almost trodden it out?
Have you not, strangely enamored of visions of distant
joy, postponed as uninfluential and unworthy, the joy
tluit abidoth, or, like the man in the allegory, raked up
with a perseverance that in aught else might have been
laudable, the straws beneath your feet, while above
your head there glittered the diadem of glory? Oh,
awake! arise! this is not your rest; it is polluted.
« Set your affections on things above, and not on things
on the earth." If riches be your possession, be thank-
ful for them ; do all the good with them you can ; if
friends make music in your dwelling, regard them a8
rose-leaves scattered upon life, and by and by to drop
from life away. Seek for bags that wax not old, friends

246

TUK CUUIBTIAn'b UEATU,

that neither >veep nor change iu the unmtcr.nitting
reunions of heaven's own j^lory.

IIow does this prospect of glory br. athc encourage-
iTient to the soul in the sad Beaton of bereavement!
"lie that believeth in Jesus "-this is the pronusc-
" though he were dead, yet shall he live, and whosoever
liveth^and believeth on Jesus shall never die." Still
sounds that great utterance of the Master running along
the whole line of being, heard over the graves of the
loved, amid rustling leaf and fading flower, and wither-
in- grass, and dying man, « He that liveth and believetli
in^Jesus shall never die." Orphan, belicvest thou this ?
Widow, from whom the desire of thine eyes has been
taken away with a stroke, believest thou this? Ah!
Bomc of us have got friends safe-housed above the
re-ions of thfl shadow and the storm, but we would not
bring them back again. We would sing for them the
hallowed pa;an :

•.■,'■/■ .'i:-'
" By the bright, waters now tliy lot is cast,
Joy for thee ! Imppy friend ; thy bark hatli pas.^e.l
, The rough sea's foam.

Now the long yearnings of thy soul arc stilled, -. /^

Home, home! - 1

Thy peace is won, thy heart is filled !
Thou art gone home."

But we can listen to the voice which they lind time to
whisper to us in some of the rests of the-music : » Be ye
therefore followers of us who now, through ftvith and
patience, are inlieriting the promises."

1 VKATU,

i ill the unintcrinitting

;loi7 br'atlic encourage-
Bcusoii of bereavement!
' — tliis is the promise —
,11 lie live, and whosoever
I shall never die." Still
the Master running along
L over the graves of the
ading flower, and wither-
j that liveth and believetli
phan, believest thou this?
J of thine eyes has been
elievest thou this? Ahl
.3 safe-housed above the
) storm, but we would not
I would sing for them the

liy lot is cast,

[ ; thy bark hath pas.^ed

thy soul arc Btilled,

-t is filled I

30 which they find time to
rests of the -music : " Be ye
10 now, through faith and
romises." .

LIKK, I'UOril'KUTS, AND DUTV.

217

Some of you have not got, perhaps, to the realization
of this promise yet. There is a misgiving within ; there
is a yet unsettled controversy between your Maker and
youi-self. You have not seen Jesus; you have not
heard the pardoning voice or felt the power of the re-
conciling plan. Oh, come to Christ. To-day the Holy
Spirit of Christ is here, waiting to take of tlie precious
things of Christ, and to show them unto you ; waiting
this morning to do honor to Jesus. Hallow the conse-
cration of this house by the consecration of the living
temple of your hearts. God is no longer the unknown
God, to be viewed with servile apprehension, or fol-
lowed with slavish dread ; he is God in Christ, recon-
cilhig the world unto himself, Itcdcinption is no longer
a theorem to be demonstrated, a problem to be solved,
a riddle to be guessed by the wayward and the wander-
ing; :"'. is the great fact of the universe that Jesus Christ
hath, by the grace of God, tasted death once for every
man. Mercy is no longer a fitful and capricious exer-
cise of benevolence; it is the very power, and justice,
and truth of God. A just God: look that out in the
Gospel dictionary, and you will find it means a Saviour.
Heaven is no longer a fortress to be besieged, a city to
be taken, a high, impregnable elevation to be scaled ;
it is the grand metropolis of the universe, to which the
King, in his bounty, has thrown up a royal high-road
for his people, even through the blood of his Son. Oh,
come to Jesus with full surrender of heart, and all these
l)le.ssin^3 shall be yours. Some do not hold this Ian-

2^g TUK CIIBIBTIAn's death, KIC.

K„a-o ; tlicy belong to tl.ia world, and arc not asliamcd
to confess it. "Bring fresh garlands; lot the song bo
of wine and of beanty ; build frc.h und greater barn.,
^vbere I may bestow niy fruits and goods." But then
con.eth the end. "Tlic rich man died and was buried,
and in hell lifted up his eyes, being in torment; and
seeth Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom; ho
cried and said "-the only prayer that I know of, the
whole r>iblo through, to a saint or angel, and that by a
damned spirit, and never answered-" I pray thee,
father Abraham, that thou wouldst send Lazarus that
he may dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my
ton.nie, for I am tormented in this flame." Listen to it,
the'^song of the lost worldling in hell. Who will set it
(o music ? Which heart is tuning for it now ? Sinner,
is it thine ? Is it thine ? Don't put vhat (piestion away.
Ask yonreelves and your consciences in the sight of
God, and then come, repent of all your sins, flee for re-
fuge to the hope that is laid before you in the Gospel,
trusting in serene and child-like reliance upon Christ.
Only believe, and yours shall be the heritage in the
world to come. ^

DEATH, KIC.

)rl(l. and are not asliamcd
larlands ; lot the soup: bo
tVchh und greater bams,
3 and goods." But then
nan died and was buried,
8, being in torment; and
LazaruH in his ])Osom; ho
rayor that I know of, the
nt or angel, and that by a
answered— "I pray thee,
rouldst send Lazarus that
crer in water, and cool my
II this flame." Listen to it,
; in hell. Who will set it
uning for it now? Sinner,
n't put vhat (question away,
onscienccs in the sight of
of all your sins, flee for re-
l before you in the Gospel,
Hike reliance upon Christ,
lall be the heritage in the

THE APOSTLE'S GROUND OF TRUST.

" But what tLin;,'a were gain to inp, tliORQ I counted loss for CliriBt.
Yen, doubtless, and I count ull things but loss for tlio excellency of tlie
knowli'dKO of Christ Jesu3 my Lord ; for whom I hnvo enfliTcd the loss
of nil things, and do count thum but dung, llmt I may win Christ." —
PiiiLippiANS iii. 7, 8.

TiiEKE can be no sense of bondage in the soul when
the tongue utters words like these. Albeit they flow
from the lii)3 of a prisoner, they have the true ring of
the inner freedom, of the freedom which cannot be
cribbed in dungeons. They are the expressions of a
fiu'-sightcd trust which yields to no adverse circum-
stances, which endures, as seeing him who is invisible,
in the confidence of quiet power. There was a very
tender relationship subsisting between Paid and the
Philippian Church. They had sent Epaphroditus to
visit him in his prison at Rome, to bear him their sym-
l»atliics, and to administer their liberality, in his hour
of need; and in return for their kindness, and as a
token of his unfailing love, he addressed them this
ei)istlo. It is remarkable that it contains no solitary

word of rebuke, that it recognizes in them the exist-

11* S4»

250

TIIR APOSTLE'S OKOCND OF TRUST.

encc of a grntefiil and earnest piety, and that it aims
tliroughout at their ccnsohition and encouragcnieiit.
In tho coinmenceniont cf the present chapter he warns
them against certain Judaizing teacher*), who wonld
fain have recalled them to the oldncbS of the letter, and
who made the commandments of God of none effect hy
their tradition. "Beware of dogs, beware of evil-
workers, beware of tho concision." lie tells them that
tho true seed of Abraham, the royal heritors of the
covenant, are those Avho worship God in the spirit, and
rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in the
flesh, lie proceeds to remind them that if there were
benefit in external trusts, he stood npon a vantage-
ground of admitted superiority. "Thougli I might
nlso have confidence in tho flesh. If any other man
thinkcth that he hath whereof he might trnst in the
flesh, I more : Circumcised the eighth day, of the stock
of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, an Hebrew of the
Hebrews ; as touching the law, a Pharisee ; concerning
zeal, persecuting the Church ; touching the righteous-
ness which is in the law, blameless." But, putting all
this aside, renouncing these grounds of confidence aa
carnal and delusive, resting in sublime reliance npon
Christ, he records the noble declaration of the text, at
once the enduring testimony of his own faith and the
perpetual strength of theirs. " But Avhat things were
gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ. Yea, doubt-
less, and I count all things but loss for the excellency
of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord ; for whom

CND OF TRUST.

St piety, and that it aims
ti<m and encouraf»oniciit.

present c-haptor lie warns
sing teachers, wlio wonld
c ohhie&s of the letter, and
8 of God of none effect by
of dogs, beware of evil-
ision." lie tells them that

the royal heritors of the
ship God in the spirit, and
have no confidence in the
nd them that if there were
lie stood npon a vantagc-
ority. "Though I might
! flesh. If any other man
•oof he might trust in the
the eighth day, of the stock
enjamin, an Hebrew of tlic
aw, a Pharisee ; concerning
h ; touching the righteous-
ameless." But, putting all
e OTounds of confidence as
; in siiblime reliance upon
declaration of the text, at
ly of his own faith and the
•s. " But Avhat things were
loss for Christ. Yea, doubt-
i but loss for the excellency
, Jesus my Lord ; for whom

TUK ArOSTLK 8 OUOUND OF TUCST.

251

I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them
but dung, that I may win Chrfst." We can conceive
of no testimony better calculated than thin to cheer the
timid, or to confirm the wavering, to silence the mis-
givings of the doubtful, or cause the inquiring soul to
sing for joy. All the conditions which we can possibly
desire in order to render testimony accredited and valu-
able, arc to be found horc. It is not the utterance of a
man of weak mind, infirm of purpose and irresolute in
action, whose adhesion would damage rather than fur-
ther any cause he might es])ouse. It is Paul, the Apos-
tle, who speaks, the sharp-witted student of Gamaliel,
a match for the proudest Ei)icurean, versid in scholastic
Bubtilties and in all the poetry and philosojihy of tlio
day, with a mental glance keen as lightning, and a
mental grasp strong as steel. It is not the uttcranco
of youth, impassioned and, therefore, hasty ; sanguino
of imagined good, and pouring out its prodigal applause.
It is Paul, the man, who speaks, with ripened wisdom
on his brow, and gathering around him the experieneo
of years. It is not the utterance of the man of heredi-
tary belief, bound in the fetters of the past, strong in
the sanctities of early education, who has imbibed a
traditional and unintelligent attachment to the profes-
sion of his fathers. It is Paul, the some-time persecutor,
who speaks, the noble quarry which the arrows of the
Almighty struck down when soaring in its pride. It is
he who now rests tenderly upon the cause which he so
lately labored to destroy. It is not, finally, the utter-

9B9

TIIK AI'oftir.K'a OBOUNU OK TRUST.

anco of inoxporicnce, which, nwed by the abiding im-
pn'ssion of Olio Hnpon.atural cvont, and having briefly
realized new hcpi-. and new jt.ys, pronounces prema-
turely a judgment which it would afterward reverse.
It is' Paul, the aged, who Hpeaka, who k not ign.irant
of what lie says and whereof ho doth affirm, who hnn
rejoiced in tho excellent knowledge through all the
vicissitudes of ii veteran's life; alike amid the misgiv-
ings of a Church slow to belic\ e liis conversion, and
amid the dissipation and perils of his journeys ; alike
when first worshipped and then stoned at Lystra, in the
prison at Thilippi, and in tho Areopagus at Athens ;
alike when in the early council it strengthened him,
"born out of due time," to withstand to the face of
Teter, the elder Apostle, because he was to be blamed,
and when, melted into almost womanly tenderness on
the sea-shore at Miletus, it nerved him for the heart-
breaking of that sad farewell ; aliko when butieting
the wintry blasts of the Adriatic, and when standing
silver-haired and solitary before the bar of Tqto. It
la he of amplest experience who has tried it under
every conceivable circumstance of mortal lot, who,
now that his eye has lost its early fire, and tho spring
and summei are gone from him, feels its genial glow
in the kindly winter of his years. Where can we find
testimony more conclusive and valuable ? Hear it, ye
craven spirits, who would dastardly forswear the Master,
and let it shame you into Christian manhood 1 Hear it,
ye bruised and tender souls, that dare hardly venture

OUNU OF TBU8T.

, nwed by the abiding im-
evoiit, nnd having briefly
V joys, pronounces preina-
t would Hl'torwnrd reverse,
peaks, wlio is not ign(jrnnt
A' ho doth affirm, who has
;no\vledgo through all the
lie ; nliko amid the miagiv-
believe his conversion, and
erils of his journoyri ; alike
hen Btoned at LyBtra, in the
the Areopagus at Athens;
>uncil it strengthened him,
o withstand to the face of
cause he was to be blamed,
lost womaidy tenderness on
; nerved hiiri for the heart-
well ; alike wlicji butieting
Ldriatic, and when standing
)eforo the bar of Ycro. It
CO who has tried it under
stance of mortal lot, who,
its early fire, and the spring
n him, feels its genial glow
years. Where can we find
and valuable ? Hear it, ye
iastardly forswear the Master,
Christian manhood 1 Hear it,
lis, that dare hardly venture

TIIK apostle's round OF TRUST.

25.1

faith OK Jesus, and catching ins[)irati()n and courage
from it, let your voices be heard :

"Ucuoo, atitl forever from my heart,
I bid my iloubtd mill foars ilcpnrt,
And to tlioso Imiids my houI ri'sip;ii,
Which bear credentials ao divine."

In the further exhibition of this ]>a8sage to-night, we
ought to refer, in the first place, to the Apostle's insuf-
ficient grounds of trust, and secondly, to the compen-
sating power of the excellency of the knowledge of
Christ. I greatly fear, however, thot the first part
of the subject will bo all that I can manage to compass
within the time allotted for this evening's service.
Our remarks will, therefore, mainly dwell npon the
grounds of trust which the Apostle here repuulutes :
" What things were gain to me, those I counted loss for
Christ."

There is something remarkable in the way in which
the Apostle refers to the past, and the respectful manner
in which he speaks of the faith of his fathers, and of his
youth. It is often a sign rather of servility than of
independence when men vilify their former selves.
The Apostle had not renounced Judaism in any moment
of passion, nor in any prejudice of novelty. Strong con-
victions had forced him out of his old belief. He had
emerged into a faith purer and more satisfying far.
But there were memories connected with the fulfilled
dispciisation which he would not willingly let die.

254 THE apostle's ground of trust.

There were phases of his own inner life there. For long
years, Judaism had been to him his only interpreter of
the divine, the only thing which met a religious
instinct, active beyond that of ordinary men. The
grounds of '^^rub* which he now found to be insufficient,
had been the halting-places of his soul in its progress
from the delusive to the abiding, from the shadowy to
the true. He could not forget that there hung around
the system ho had abandoned, an ancient and tra-
ditional glow : it was of God's own architecture ; the
pattern and its gorgeous ceremonial had been given by
himself in the Mount ; all its furniture spoke of him in
sensuous manifestation and magnificent appeal. His
breath had quivered upon the lips of its prophets, and
had lashed its seers into their sacred frenzy He was
in its temple service, and in its holy of holies ; amid
shapes of heavenly sculpture, the light of his presence
ever rested in merciful repose. How could the Apostle
assail it with wanton outrage or flippant sarcasm?
True, it had fulfilled its mission, and now that the age
of spirituality and power had come, it was no longer
needed ; but the halo was yet upon its brow, and like
the light which lingers above the horizon long after the
setting of the sun, there shone about it a dim but
heavenly splendor. While, however, the Apostle was
not slow to confess that there was glory in that which
was to be done away, he was equally bold in affirming
its absolute worthlessness in comparison with the yet
greater glory of that which remained. " What things

GROUND OF TRUST.

3wn inner life there. For long

to him his only interpreter of
liing which met a religious

that of ordinary men. The
le now found to be insuflBcient,
ces of his soul in its progress
> abiding, from the shadowy to
forget that there hung around
mdoned, an ancient and tra-
f God's own architecture; the
i ceremonial had been given by
ill its furniture spoke of him in

and magnificent appeal. His
)n the lips of its prophets, and
their sacred frenzy lie was
nd in its holy of holies ; amid
pture, the light of his presence
•epose. How could the Apostle

outrage or flippant sarcasm?

mission, and now that the age
er had come, it was no longer
'as yet upon its brow, and like
above the horizon long after the
Bre shone about it a dim but
hile, however, the Apostle was
t there was glory in that which
e was equally bold in affirming
ess in comparison with the yet
hich remained. "What things

THE APOSTLK 8 GROUND OF TRUST.

255

were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ." It
will be found, I think, to be rcjiiarkablo in the review
of the grounds of trust, which the Apostle here repu-
diates, how much there is kindred to them in the
aspects of modern faith, and how multitudes now cling
to them with tenacity, and hope to find in them their
present and eternal gain. Let us remind you, then, for
a few moments, of the catalogue of trusts which the
Apostle tried and repudiated.

Tlie first thing ho mentions, is sacramental efficacy.
" Circumcised on the eighth day." He names circum-
cision first, because it was the early and indispensable
sacrament of the Jewish people, the seal of the
Mosaic covenant, the distinguishing badge of the
Israelites from all other nations of mankind. Moreover,
he tells us he had the advantage of early initiation :
" Circumcised the eighth day." The Gentile proselytes
could, of course, only observe the rite at the period of
conversion, which might be in manhood or in age. But
Paul was hallowed from his youth, from the eighth day
of his life introduced into the federal arrangement, and
solemnly consecrated to the service of the Lord. He
was not insensible to this external advantage, but he
does not hesitate to proclaim it worthless as a ground
of acceptance with God. There are multitudes by
whom baptism is regarded in the same reverent light as
was circumcision by the Jews of old. If they do not
absolutely rejoice in it, as the manner of some is, as the
instrument of their regeneration, at least they have a

256 THE apostle's ground of trust.

vague notion of a benefit which they deem it to have
conferred, and arc living on the unexhausted credit of
their parents' faith and prayer. If, ni adult age, they
make any profession of religion, it is by partaking of the
Eucharist, whose elements they invest with mystic and
transforming power. There is no inward change in
them. They are conscious of no painstaking and daily
struggle with corruption. They have no conflict for a
mastery over evil. No percptible improvement passes
upon their conduct and habits from their periodical
communions. And yet, absolutely, their only hope for
the future, springs from the grace of the baptismal font,
and from the efficacy of the sacramental table ; for they
persuade themselves into the belief that as by the ordi-
nance of baptism there was a mysterious conveyance to
them of the title-deeds of an inheritance, so by the
excellent mystery of the Lord's Supper, they are as
inexplicably ripened into meetness for its possession.
Brethren, we would not under-value the ordinances of
God's appointing. We are not insensible to the Dcnefit
when believing parents dedicate their offspring unto
G od, when the hand of parental faith rests upon the ark
of the covenant, and claims that there should be shed
out upon the little ones the spiritual influences of the
Holy Ghost. Chicfest among our religious memories,
treasured in the soul with a delight which is almost awe,
are some of those holy communions, when — ^the life
infused into the bread, the power into the wine— Christ
has been evidently set forth before his grateful wor-

JND OF TRUST.

ich tliey deem it to have
;lic iinexhav:.ted credit of
;r. If, HI adult age, they
n, it is by partaking of the
cy invest with mystic and
is no inward change in

no painstaking and daily
ley have no conflict for a
»tiblo improvement passes
jits from their periodical
lutely, their only hope for
jrace of the baptismal font,
acramental table ; for they

belief that as by tl'.e ordi-
i mysterious conveyance to
an inheritance, so by the
ord's Supper, they are as
leetness for its possession,
ier-value the ordinances of
not insensible to the Dcnefit
dicate their offspring unto
atal faith rests upon the ark
, that there should be shed

spiritual influences of the
ng our religious memories,
lelight which is almost awe,
)mmunions, when — ^the life
jower into the wine — Christ
h before his grateful wor-

TUE AP0STLK8 GROUND OF TRUST.

257

shippers, and strong consolations have trooped up to the
heavenly festival. But it must not be forgotten tliat all
the graces of ordinances, all the beatific and insinring
comforts which flow through divinely appointed ser-
vices, are not in the services themselves, but in the
fullness of the loving Saviour, the anointed one in tlie
vision of Zcchariah, without whom and without whoso
Spirit they could have neither cfficaey nor power.
Precious as are the collateral benefits of baptism, and
hallowing as are the strength and blessing of the Holy
Eucharist, we do solemnly proclaim them worthless as
grounds of acceptance before God. Hear it, ye bap-
tized, but unbelieving members of our congregation!
Hear it, ve devout and earnest communicants 1 Sacra-
ments have no atoning virtue, no value at all except as
avenues to lead the soul to Christ ; and if, in a trust
like this, you pass your lives, and if, m the exercise of a
trust like this, you die, for you there can remain no-
thing but the agonizing wakening from a deception that
will have outlasted life, and the cry wailed from the
outside of a door, forever ban-ed, ""We were early dedi-
cated unto thee ! were accounted as thy followers ; we
have eaten and drank in thy presence; Lord, Lord,
open unto us." That is the first ground of trust which
the Apostle here disclaims.

Passing on in the catalogue, we find that the second
repudiated confidence is an honored parentage. " Of the
stock of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of
the Hebrews." To have been circumcised the eighth

^2:<9,

Til 10 Al'OoTMi's ailOUNU OF TKUBT.

day, proved that he had been bora of parents professing
the. Jewish fuitli ; but, inasmuch as the Gentile prose-
lytes also observed the rites of circumcision, it did not
prove that he had been descended of the family of
Israel. He, therefore, shows that in purity of lineal
dc^fcent, in all those hereditary honors upon Avhich men
dwell with pride, he could boast with the proudest of
them all. lie was of the stoci; of Israel. But ten of
the tribes had revolted from their allegiance to Jehovah,
had soiled their nobility by their vices, had entered
into degrading companionship with surrounding idola-
ters. He, therefore, reminds them further, that ho was
of the tribe of Benjamin ; illustrious, because it had
given the first king to Israel ; more illustrious, because,
at the apostasy of Jeroboam it maintained purity of
Divine worship, and held itself faithful among the
fa'vhlessness of many. Moreover, ho had not been
introduced into the federal relationship by personal
adoption nor by the conversion of his fathers. There
had been in his ancestry no Gentile intermarriages ; he
was " a Hebrew of the Hebrews." His genealogy was
pure on both sides. Tlicre was no bar sinister in his
arms. He was a lineal inheritor of the adoption, and
the glory, and the covenant. Tliere was much in all
this on which in those times the Apostle might have
dwelt with pride ; men, generally vaunt those honors
which are theirs by birth. ; ••

It was no light thing surely, then, to belong to nobi-
lity that could trace its far descent from the worthies

NU OF TKUBT.

orn of parents professing
;li as the Gentile prose-

circunicision, it did not
ended of the family of
that in purity of lineal
■ honors npon which men
ast with the proudest of
■h of Israel. But ten of
eir allegiance to Jehovah,
their vices, had entered
I with surrounding idola-
hem further, that ho was
lustrioHS, because it had
more illustrious, because,

it maintained purity of
tself faithful among the
■cover, ho had not been
relationship by personal
on of his fathers. Tliere
entile intermarriages; ho
3WS." His genealogy was
,vas no bar sinister in his
i-itor of the adoption, and
Tliere was much in all
1 the Apostle might have
crally vaunt those honors

Y, then, to belong to nobi-
descent from the worthies

THK AI'OSTI-k's OEOUND OF TRUST.

259

of the older world, to have for his ancestors those
anointed and holy patriarchs who trod the young earth
■when unwrinkled by sorrow, undimmed by crime,
untouched by the wizard wand of time ; to have in his
veins the same blood that marched proudly over the
fallen ramparts of Jericho, or that bade the aflrighted
sun stand still at Gibeon, or that quailed beneath the
dread thunders of the mount that burned. And yet all
this accumulated pride of ancestral honor the Apostle
counted " loss for Christ." That the Jews prided them-
selves on their descent from Abraham, you may gather
from many passages of Scripture. You remember
when our Saviour was conversing with them on the
inner freedom, he was rudely interrupted wit'i the
words, ""We be Abraham's children ; we were never in
bondage to any man." And that they regarded this
descent from Abraham as in some sort a passport to
heaven, we may gather from the Saviour's rebuke:
" Think not to say within yourselves, we have Abraham
to our father, for I say unto you, that of these stones
God is able to raise up children unto Abraham." And
there are multitudes now, brethren, who have no better
hope than this. There are many in this land of ours
who are stifling the misgivings of conscience, and the
convictions of the Holy Spirit, with the foolish thought
that they have been born in a Christian country, sur-
rounded with an atmosphere of privilege, or are the
sons " of parents passed into the skies."
Look at that holy patriarch, foreaken of kindred,

260 THK apobtlk'b gkound of TBCBT.

bankrupt in property, and slandered in reputation,
« Afflicted grievously and tempted sore," and yet hold-
ing an integrity as last in liis sackcloth as ever he did
in his purple, and amid terrible reverses blessing the
goodness which but claimed the gift it gave! Mark
that honorable counsellor, pious amid cares of state,
and pomps, and pleasure, walking with God amid the
tumult and luxury of Babylon, and from the compa-
nionship of kings speeding to his chamber that had its
lattice open toward Jerusalem ! Listen to that preacher
of righteousness, as now with earnest exhortation, and
now with blameless life, he testifies to the whole world,
and warns it of its coming doom, and then, safe in the
heaven-shut ark, is borne by the billows of ruin to a
mount of safety. What sublime examples of consist-
ency and piety are hei-e ! Surely, if a parent's faith
can avail for children anything, it will be in the families
of Noah, Daniel, and Job 1

Now, listen— listen— ye who rest on traditional faith,
ye who are making a raft of your parents' piety to float
you over the dark, stormy water into church fellowship
iiere, and. into heavenly fellowship hereafter— listen to
the solemn admonition: "Though these three men,
Noah, Daniel, and Job, were in it, as I live they should
deliver but their own souls by their righteousness, saith
the Lord God." Alas 1 if the grandson of Moses was
an idolatrous priest; if the children of Samuel per-
verted judgment and took bribes ; if David, the man
after God's own heart, mourned in hopeless agony over

•UND OF TBDBT.

slandered in reputation,
nptcd sore," and yet hold-
sackcloth as ever he did
ible reverses blessing tlic
the gift it gave! Mark
ious amid cares of state,
liking with God amid the
Ion, and from the compa-
his chamber that had its
ti ! Listen to that preacher
h earnest exhortation, and
estifies to the whole world,
loom, and then, safe in the
y the billows of ruin to a
blime examples of consist-
Surely, if a parent's faith
ng, it will be in the families

ho rest on traditional faith,
' your parents' piety to float
rater into church fellowship
lowship hereafter— listen to

Though these three men,
e in it, as I live they should
by their righteousness, saith
the grandson of Moses was
le children of Samuel per-

bribes ; if David, the man
rned in hopeless agony over

THE APOSTLli's CKOCND OF TUD8T.

201

Absalom dead I how sad the witness that religion is not
a hereditary possession ! how appalling the danger lest
you, children of pious parents, nursed in the lap and
surrounded with the atmosphere of godliness, should
pass down into a heritage of wrath and sorrow, aggra-
vated into intenser hell for you by the remembrances
of the piety of your fathers I That is the second ground
of trust which the Apostle disclaims.

Passing on in the catalogue, wo lind that the next
repudiated confidence is religious authority. " As
touching the law, a Pharisee," This was not the first
time the Apostle had made this affinnation. You
remember that before the tribunal of the high priest,
Le affirmed, with a not imholy pride, " I am a Pharisee,
the son of a Pharisee." And, at Agrippa's judgment-
seat, he appealed even to the infuriated Jews whether
ho had not, according to the straightest sect of their
religion, lived a Pharisee. And, indeed, there was
much in those early times which an honest Pharisee
might be excused for counting gain. Tlie word has got
in our days, to be regarded as a sort of synonym for all
that is hypocritical and crafty ; but a Pharisee in the
Jewish tunes, an honest, earnest Pharisee, was a man
not to be despised. In an age of prevailing indiffe-
rence, the Pharisee rallied around him all the godly,
religious spirit of the time. In an age of prevailing
skepticism, the Pharisee protested nobly against the
free-thinking Sadducee, and against the courtly Uerod-
ian. In an age of prevailing laxity, the Pharisee incul-

262

THE apostle's OBOUKD OF TBC8T.

cated, by precept at all events, austerity of morals and

sanctity of lifi'. There might be ostentation in his

broad j)hylactcrlo8 ; at all events, it showed ho was not

nshamcd of the texts which he had traced out upon

the parchment. A love of dit^play might prompt the

Huperl) decorations with which he gilded the tombs

of the prophets ; at all events, and that is no small

virtue, ho had not ceased to honor the memory of

righteousness. There might be self-glory in his fasts,

rigidly observed, and in liis tithes, paid to the uttermost

farthing; at all events, there was recognition of the

majesty, and obedience to the letter of the law. I

repeat it, in those early times there was much which

an honest Pharisee might be excused for counting gain.

r>nt this also the Apostle " counted loss for Christ."

There are multitudes now, I need not remind you,
whose trust is their orthodoxy, whose zeal is their par-
tisanship, whoso munition of rocks is their union with
the people of God. There is some danger, believe me,
lest even the tender and hallowed associations of the
Church should weaken the sense of individual respon-
sibility. We are apt to imagine, amid the round of
decorous externalisms, when the sanctuary is attractive
and the minister approved, when there is peace in the
borders and wealth in the treasury, when numbers do
not diminish, and all that is conventionally excellent is
seen, that our own piety must necessarily shine in the
lustre of the mass, that we are spiritually healthy, and
need neither counsel nor warning. - . .

:OUKD OF TBC9T.

nts, austerity of inorals and
Iglit bo ostentation in his
cnts, it showed ho was not
li he had traced out upon
' display niij;ht prompt the
liich ho gilded the tombs
outs, and that is no small
to honor the memory of
t bo self-glory in his fasts,
tithes, paid to the uttermost
;re was recognition of the
the letter of the law. I
nes there was much which
i excused for counting gain,
counted loss for Christ."
w, I need not remind you,
•xy, whose zeal is their par-
)f rocks is their union with
is some danger, believe me,
fallowed associations of the
sense of individual respon-
magine, amid the round of
n the sanctuary is attractive
, when there is peace in the
treasury, when numbers do
8 conventionally excellent is
(lust necessarily shine in the
! are spiritually healthy, and
arning. " ' ' '

TUK APOSTLK's OROCND OF TKUST.

.'(53

The Church to which we belong, perhaps, has " a
name to live ;" and mo imagine that the life of the
aggregate must, in some mysterious manner, imply the
life of tho individual. And though our conscienre re-
proach us sometimes, and though wo are frivolous in
our practice, and censorious in our judgment of others,
and though, iu our struggle with evil, tho issue i i some-
times compromise and sometimes defeat, althoi gh at-
tendanccB at religious ordinances, an occasionil and
stifled emotion under a sermon, a spasm of conv ilsivo
activity, a hurried and heartless prayer, arc reall/ tho
whole of our religion — wo aro sitting iu our seiled
houses, we pass among our fellows for reputable and
painstaking Christians, and are dreaming that a joyous
entrance will bo ministered to us abundantly at last.
0, for thunder-pealing words to crash over the souls
of formal and careless professors of religion, and startle
them into the life of God ! I do solemnly believe that
there are thousands in our congregations, in different
portions of the land, who are thus dead while they are
seeming to live ; and with all fidelity I would warn you
of your danger. It is a ghastly sight when the flowers
of religious profession trick out a mortal corpse. It is
a sad entombment when the church or chapel is tho
vault of the coflfined spirit, "dead in trespasses and
sins." That is the third ground of trust which the
Apostle here disclaims.

Passing on in the catalogue, we find that the fourth
repudiated confidence is intense earnestness, " Concern*

204

TlIK APOSTLK's ground OF TRC8T.

iiig zcnl, iicrsccutinj: tlio Clmrch." There was much in
tills that would uwiike n rosiioiisivo chord in the heart
of ti higoti'd Jew. The Apostle tolls us ho was present
ut the iimrtyrdom of {Stephen; and in his zeal for the
repression of what he deemed to he a profane mystery,
ho ninde ii.ivoc of the Clmrch, breathed out threaten-
iuf^H and slaughter, and persecuted unto the death.
Often, indeed, did tlic sad memory press upon him in
his after life, bowing him to contrition and tears. " 1
am less than the least of the apostles, that am not meet
tt» be called an apo.^lc, because I persecuted the Church
of God." But there is incontestable evidence in all
this of his zeal for the Jewish faith, that he did not hold
the truth in unrighteous indolence, but that he exerted
himself for its promulgation ; that devotion with him
was not a surface sentiment, nor an educational neces-
sity, but a principle grasping, in the strong hand of its
power, every energy of his nature, and infibered with the
deepest affections of his soul. And there was much in all
this, which men around him were accustomed to regard
as gain ; but this also he esteemed " as loss for Christ."
1 know no age of the world, brethren, when claim for
the gainfulness of zeal, abstract zeal, would bo more
readily conceded than in the age in which we live.
Earnestness, it is the god of this age's reverence. Men
do not scrutinize too closely the characters of the heroes
they worship. Mad ambition may guide the despotic
hand ; brain may be fired with dark schemes of tyranny ;
the man may be a low-soulcd infidel, or a vile seducer;

)UND OF TRCBT.

TUB apostle's QUOUND OF TBD8T.

205

rcli." There was much in
)oiisivo chord in the licart
•atle tehs U8 ho was present
;n ; and in his zeal for tlie
id to be a profane mystery,
•eh, breathed out threatcn-
jrsecutcd unto the death,
nemory press upon him in
contrition and tears. " 1
apostles, that am not meet
use I persecuted the Churcli
!ontestablo evidence in all
h faith, that he did not hold
lolencc, but that he exerted
n ; that devotion Avith him
t, nor an educational neces-
>g, in the strong hand of its
iiturc, and infibered with the
, And there was much in all
I were accustomed to regard
:eemed " as loss for Christ."
■Id, brethren, when claim for
stract zeal, would bo more
the age in which we live,
this age's reverence. Men
the characters of the heroes
ion may guide the despotic
ith dark schemes of tyranny ;
id infidel, or a vile seducer;

ho may bo a poet stained with licentionsne.sd, or a war-
rior stained witli blood ; let him bo but earnobt, atid
there is a niche for him in the modern Pantheon. And,
as it is an undorytood principle that the character of tho
worhhippers assimilates to tho beings they worship, the
devotees have copied their idols, and this is an earnest
ago. The trade spirit is in earnest ; bear witness, those
of you who have felt its pressure. Hence tho unpre-
cedented competitions of business; hence tho gambling,
which would rather leap into wealth by speculation,
than achieve it by industry ; lionco the intense, the un-
flagging, indomitable, almost universul greed of gain.
Men aro earnest in tho pursuit of knowledge. Tlio
press teems with cheap, and not always wholesome,
literature. Science is no longer tlio heritage of the
illuminati, but of the masses. Tlio common mind has
become voracious in its appetite to know; and a cry
has gono up from tho people which cannot bo disre-
garded, "Give us knowledge, or else wo die." It is
manifest in all departments and in every walk of life.
Men live ftistcr than they used to do. In politics, in
science, in pleasure, he is, he must be earnest who suc-
ceeds. He must speak loudly and earnestly who would
win the heedful m\iltitudes to listen. Such is the im-
petuosity of the time, that the timid and the vacillating
find no foothold on the pavement of life, and are every
moment in peril of being overborne and jostled aside,
trampled down beneath the rude waves of the rushing

and earnest crowd.

206 TiiK apostlk'b ohoond ok tbust.

While such general hotnn-o ia paid to oarncstncBS,
^vlmt wonder if Bonie people bUouW mistake it f..r reli-
rrion; ft.Hl if u nuin bUouUI imagine that, beciiubo he i>
z-mIous in tiio activities of benevolence, warmly uttuehed
to certain chnrcli organizations, and in Bome measure
pvmpathetic with the spiritual forces which they em-
bodv, he is really a partaker of the undefiled religion of
the Bible? And I must go further than this. The
.ti.lerancc— take it to yourselves those who need it-the
tolerance with whfcirbeireT^f^r'vJn Christ— those who arc
really members of the Chureli, and have "the roofrn''
the matter" within them— the tolerance with which
they talk about, and apologize for "the zealous but un-
converted adjuncts of the Church," tends very greatly
to confirm tiiem in tl eir error. Cases throng upon
one's memory and conscience as we think npon the

subject.

There is a man— he has no settled faith at all in the
principles of Christian truth ; he is cast forever upon a
Bcaof doubt and darkness; "ever learning, yet never
able to come to the knowledge of the truth." llo may
consider without acting, till he dies. But what says the
tolerant spirit of the age? » He is an earnest thinker,
let him alone ; he has no faith in the Bible; he has no
faith in anything certain, settled, and indisputable, but
he is an earnest thinker; and, although life may be
frittered away without one holy deed to ennoble it, if
he live long enough, he will grope his way into convic-
tion by and by." ■ . -

UND OK TKOST.

THE APOSrLKS OUOUNU OF ruUST.

2or

;o is paid to oavncslncBfl,
should mifitttko it for reli-
iiagiiio that, bociuibc ho ia
uvok'iice, warmly uttaclied
•ns, and iu Boine mnusuro
al forccfi which they era-
,)t' tlio undcfilcd religion of
) further than this. The
?e8 those -who need it— the
•vJi Christ — those who are
h, and have "tlio root'm'"
he tulcranco with which
3 for " tho zealous but lui-
urch," tends very greatly
ror. Cases throng upon
•0 as we think upon tho

settled faith at all in tho
; ho is cast forever upon u
" ever learning, yot uover
;e of tho truth." IIo may
10 dies. But what says tlie
' He is an earnest thinker,
:h in the Bible ; he has no
tied, and indisputable, but
nd, although life may be
holy deed to ennoble it, if
grope his way into convic-

Tluiro is another man ; ho is not all wo would wish
hlin to be ; he is uufrocjut'iit and irregular iu atfcndunco
ujuui tho ordiiuuu-us uf (lud'ri lioiiso; lie i.i nut iiiwiiys
quite 8])irituully-iuiiule(l; wo nliuuld like to see him
less grasping iu hi.s bargains; but he is an curiiot
worker, u zealous jmrtixan, an active committee-muu,
and wo hope all will be right with him in tho cud.

There is another nuin, and more chivalrous in his
sense of honor; ho is known to hold opinions that aro
dangerous, if not positively fatal, ui)on some vital sub-
jects of Christian truth. But ho is an amiable man ; ho
is very kind to tho poor; ho has j)r»»jcpted several
measures of amelioration fur their beuelit ; tho widow
blesses him when she hoars his name, lie is an earnest
philanthropist; and, thus sheltered in the shadow of
Ais benevolence, his errors pass unchallenged, and liavo
a wider scope for mischief than befnTe.

I do solemnly believe that there are men who arc
c.infirnied in their infidelity to Christianity by the tri-
bute thus paid to their zeal. It may be that some in-
fatuated self-deceivers pass out of existence with a lie in
their right hand, because earnestness, like charity, has
been made to " cover a multitude of sins." Since there
is this danger, it is instructive to find out what is tho
Apostle's opinion of mere earucstuoss. It may be a good
thing — there can bo no doubt of that — when it springs
from prompting faith, and constraining love, and when
tho object on behalf of which it exerts its energies is
intrinsically excellent. It is a noble thing; we cannot

268

THE apostle's GEOUND OF TEU8T.

do without it ; it is at once the pledge of sincerity and
an augury of success. It may Lo a good thing, hut it
may be a blasphemy ; just the muf-cle in the arm of a
madman, that nerves his frantic hand to scatter fire-
brands, and arrows, and death; but do not deceive
yourselves. * . t ■>■ ;^ t

Divers gifts may have been imparted, to you; you
may have discrimination of the abstruse and the pro-
found; the widow may bless your footsteps, and the
orphan's heart may sing for joy at your approach ; the
lustre of extensive benevolence may be shed over your
character; opinions may have rooted themselves so
firmly in your nature that you are ready to sufier loss
in their behalf, and to covet martyrdom in their attesta-
tion, giving your body to be burned. But, with all this
earnestness, indisputably earnest as you are, if you hare
not charity, diviner far — if you have not " faith that
works by love and purifies the heart " — earnest, indis-
putably earnest as you are, it profiteth you nothing ;
your confidence will fail you in the hour of trial ; its
root is rottenness, and its blossom will go out as dust.
That is the fourth ground of trust that the Apostle here
disclaims.

Yet again, and finally. The next ground of trust is
ceremonial blamelessness, " Touching the righteousness
which is in the law, blameless." The Apostle's zeal for
the Jewish faith was rendered more influential by the
purity of his life. There are some whose zeal is but a
cloak for licentiousness, and who shamefully violate, in

S GKOUND OF TEU8T.

THE APOSir.K 8 OKOLNI) OF TK08T.

2CU

nee the pledge of sincerity and
[t may Le a good thing, hut it
list the muf-cle in the arm of a
18 frantic hand to scatter firc-
id death; but do not deceive

7G been imparted to you; you
a of the abstruse and the pro-
r bless your footsteps, and the
; for joy at your approach ; the
volence may be shed over your
ay have rooted themselves so
hat you are ready to suffer loss
ovet martyrdom in their attesta-
;o be burned. But, with all this
y earnest as you are, if you hare
r — if you have not " faith that
ifies the heart " — earnest, indis-
are, it profiteth you nothing;
il you in the hour of trial; its
its blossom will go out as dust,
id of trust that the Apostle here

y. The next ground of trust is
ss, " Touching the righteousness
nieless." The Apostle's zeal for
mdered more influential by the
ve are some whose zeal is but a
, and who shamefully violate, in

daily practice, the rescripts of the religion fur which
they contend. But the Apostle was not one of those im-
])ious fanatics; he had been in sincerity iuul truth a
Jew, so rigid and inflexible in his adhesion to the laws
of Moses that he was esteemed a pattern, and rejoicL-d
in as a pillar of the truth. Kot that before God the
most devout Pharisee had anything whereof to glory,
b\it that, in the eyes of men, who judge in short-sighted-
ness, and who jiulge in error, he passed for a reputable
and blameless man. And this, also, the most ordinary,
the most wide-spread ground of false confidence, the
Apostle counted " loss for Christ."

I need not remind you, I am sure, how deep in the
heart of man, resisting every attempt to dislodge it,
self-righteousness lurks and broods; and how men come
to regard themselves, in the absence of atrocious crime,
and in the presence of much that is humanizing and
kindly, as ripening for the kingdom of heaven. And
it is no marvel — I do not think it one jot of a
marvel — if we consider what the usages of society are,
and the verdicts it passes on the virtues and vices of the
absent.

Tliere is a tribunal out among men that never
suspends its sessions, and that is always estimating
themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves
among themselves, and so is not wise. From acting as
judge in some of these arbiti-ation cases of character, by
acting as an arbiter himself, the man comes to know
the standard (f *he woild's estimation, and how it is

270

THE AI'OSTLe's OUoUNI) OF TEUST.

that it comes to its decisions ; and, in some reflective
mood, possibly, he tries himself by it, and, looking
down below him, he sees, far beneatli him in the scale,
the outcast and the seHslij the perfidious, the trampler
upon worldly decencies, and the scandalously sinful.
And then he looks into his own case, and he sees his
walk through life, greeted with the welcome of many
salutations, that his name passes unchallenged, his
integrity vouched for among men. Then ho looks into
his own heart, and finds it is vibrating to every chord
of sympathy; friends troop around him with proud
fondness ; children " climb his knees, the envied kiss
to share."

It is no niarv el, I say, if a man accustomed to such
standards of arbitration, should imagine that the good-
ness which has been so cheerfully acknowledged on
earth, will be as cheerfully acknowledged in heaven,
and that he who has passed muster with the world so
well, will not be sent abashed and crest-fallen from the
judgment-seat of God. t ■ ;■> fc-

And there is nothing more difiicult than to rouse
such a one from his dangerous and fatal slumber.
There are many, who, thus building on the sand, have
no ehelter in the hour of the storm. You may thunder
over the man's head all those passages which tell of the
radical and universal depravity of our race. Yes, and
he admires your preaching, and thinks it is wonder-
fully good for the masses, hut it has no sort of ajyplica-
lion to Mm. He does not feel himself to be the vile

mU OF TEUST.

; and, in some reflective
self by it, and, looking
beneatli him in tlio scale,
5 perfidious, the trampler
the scandalously sinful,
iwn case, and he sees his
th the welcome of many
passes unchallenged, his
nen. Then ho looks into
vibrating to every chord
around him with proud.
is knees, the envied kiss

man accustomed to such
Id imagine that the good-
icrfully acknowledged on
acknowledged in heaven,

muster with the world so
i and crest-fallen from the

re difficult than to rouse
irons and fatal slumber,
(uilding on the sand, have
storm. You may thunder
passages which tell of the
ty of our race. Yes, and
and thinks it is wondcr-
t it has no sort of ajyplica*
:el himself to be the vile

TUK AroSTLlia OUOUND OF TltUST.

271

and guilty creature you desci-ibe ; he has an anodyne
carried about with him to silence the first misgiving of
the uneasy conscience, and lie lies down in drugged and
desperate repose. And there are many, it may be, wlio
continue in this insidious deception, and are never
aroused except by the voice of the last messenger, or by
the flashing of the penal fires. Tliat is the last ground
of trust which the Apostle disclaims.

And now of the things that we have spoken, what is
the sum ? Just this. You may be early initiated into
the ordinances of the Christian Church ; you may have
come of a long line of spiritually illustrious ancestry,
and be the sons "of parents passed into the skies;"
you may give an intellectual assent to the grand har-
mony of Christian trutli ; you may be zealous in certain
activities of benevolence, and in certain matters con-
nected even with the Church of God itself; you may
have passed among your fellows for a reputable and
blameless man, against whom no one would utter a
word of slander, and in whose presence the elders stand
up in reverence, as you pacs by ; and yet, there may
pile upon you— (O God, bend the word home !)— there
may pile upon you all the accumulation of carnal
advantage and carnal endowment; you may gain all
this world of honor, and lose your own soul. " And
what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world,
and lose his own soul ?"

I have no time, as I imagined, to dwell upon the com-
pensating power of the excellency of the knowledge of

272

THE ArOSTLK B GKOUND OF TKU8T.

Clirist. Tliere is this compensation, however, " "What
things were gain to me," says the Apostle, " those I
counted loss for Christ. Yea, doubtless, and I count all
things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of
Christ Jesus my Lord." This compensation runs
through creation ; it seems to be a radical law both in
the physical and spiritual govcniment of God. You
see it in things around you. A man climbs up to high
place, and calumny and care go barking at his heels.
There is beauty, dazzling all beholders, and consump-
tion, "like a worm i' the bud, preying upon its
damask cheek." There is talent, dazzling and enrap-
turing, and madness Avaiting to pounce upon the vacated

throne. ' '

Oh, yes, and there is a strange and solemn aninity,
too, in the Bible, between crime and punishment. I
can only indicate just what I mean. The Jews rejected
Christ, perseveringly rejected Christ; and one of their
pleas, you remember, was, " If thou h;t this man go,
thou art not Caesar's friend ;" and to conciliate the
Roman power, they rejected Christ. That was their
crime ; what was their punishment ? Tlie Eomans did
come, by and by, and "took away their place and
nation." Pharaoh issued his enactment, that all the
male children of Israel should be drowned: that was
the crime ; what was the punishment ? Pharaoh and
his host were drowned in the waters of the Etd Sea by
and by. Ilezekiah took the ambassadors of Babylon
through the treasure-chambers of silver and gold, osteu-

(JUND OF TKCST.

ensation, however, " What
ays the Apostle, " those I
I, doubUcss, and I count all
lency of the knowledge of
This compensation runs

be a radical law both in
government of God. Yon

A man climbs up to high
a go barking at his heels.

1 beholders, and consump-
j bud, preying upon its
talent, dazzling .nnd enrap-
to pounce upon the vacated

trange and solemn aninity,
crime and punishment. I
'. mean. The Jews rejected
i Christ ; and one of their
" If thou h;t this man go,
d ;" and to conciliate the
id Christ. That was their
shment ? Tlie Eomans did
)ok away their place and
is enactment, that all the
uld be drowned: that was
lunishment? Pharaoh and
e waters of the Etd Sea by
e ambassadors of Babylon
irs of silver and gold, osteu-

TOK APOSTLK 8 GUOPyD OF TRUST.

273

tatiously showing them his wealth : that was the crime ;
what was the punishment? The treasures of silver
and gold went off captive to Babylon by and by.
David, in the lust of his power, took the census of
the people, .ind numbered them : that was tlie crime ;
what was the punishment ? The pestilence fell upon
the people whom David had numbered, and dried up
the sources of the strength in which he had boasted so
fondly.

And, just to remind you of another case, who ai'e
those who are represented as standing at the barred
gate of heaven, knocking, frantic and disappointed,
outside, and crying in tones of agony that mortal lips
cannot compass now, thank God ! " Lord, Lord, open
to us." "Who arc they? Not the scandalously sinful,
not those who on earth were alien altogether— outcast
altogether— proscribed altogether from the decencies
and decorum of the sanctuary of God. No ; those Avho
helped to build the ark, but whose co;ps'j8 have been
strewed in the waters of the deluge ; those who brought
rafters to the tabernacle, but who, as lepers, were thrust
out of the camp, or as transgressors, were stcned beyond
the gate ; those who, on earth, were almost Christians ;
those who, in the retributions ot eternity, are almost
saved; beholding the CL. eh . earth through the
chink of the open door, watching the whole family as
they are gathered, with the invisible presence and the
felt smile of the Father upon them ; beholding the
family as they are gathered, beatific, and imperishable,

12*

274

THE APOSTLE 8 GROUND OF TRUST.

in lieaven ; hnt the door is shut. Almost Clmstians I
ahnost saved 1 Oh strange and sad aflinity between
crimo and punishment! Wliat is your retribution to
bo 2 " Every one shall receive according to things he
has done in the body, whether they bo good, or whether
they be bad." - .^

Oh I come to Christ — that is the end of it — come to
Christ. Hallow this occasion by dedicating your-
selves living temples unto the Lord. lie will not refuse
to accept you. Mark the zeal with which the Apostle
Paul proclaimed the truth: mark the zeal, the love,
iL<iomitable and unfailing, with which ho clung to the
Master — " I determined to know nothing among men
but Christ, and him crucified." Oh rare and matchless
attachment! fastening upon that which was most in
opprobium and in contumely among men. Kever did
the earnest student of philosophy, as he came away
from some Socratic prelection, utter his affirmation, " I
am deterniined to know nothing among men save
Socrates, and him poisoned;" never did enraprnred
youth listen to the persuasive eloquence of Cicero, and
utter his affirmation, " I determined to know nothing
among men save Cicero, and him proscribed." But Paul
takes the very vilest brand of shame, and binds it about
his brow, as a diadem of glory : " 1 determine to know
nothing among men but Clirist, and him crucified."
Yes, that is it, " Christ, and him crucified." " God
forbid that I should gloiy, save in the cross." In the
cross is to be our chiefest glory.

OUND OF TRUST.

shut. Almost Christians I
and sad affinity between
'^liat is your retribution to
vc according to things he
;r they bo good, or whether

; is the end of it — come to
sion by dedicating your-
3 Lord. He will not refuse
sal Avith which the Apostle
mark the zeal, the love,
ith which ho clung to the
jnow nothing among men
." Oh rare and matchless
L that which was most in
y among men. Kever did
osophy, as he came away
n, utter his affirmation, " I
lothing among men save
I;" never did enraprnred
e eloquence of Cicero, and
iermined to know nothing
lim proscribed." But Paul
f shame, and binds it about
ry : " 1 determine to know
hrist, and him crucified."
d him crucified." "God
save in the cross." In the

THE APOSTLE B OKODND OF TRUST. i>7r.

Trust that cross for yourselves ; take hold of it ; it is
consecrated. In all circumstances of your history, in
all exigencies of your mortal lot, take firm hold of the
cross. "When the destroying angel rides forth upon the
cloud, when liis sword is whetted for destruction, clasp
the cross ; it shall bend over you a shield and a shade ;
he will relax hia frown, and sheathe his sword, and pass
quickly, harmlessly by. When you go to the brink of
the waters, that you are about to cross, hold up the
cross ; and by magic power they shall cleave asunder,
as did ancient Jordan before the ark of the covenant,
and yon shall pass over dry-shod, and in peace. When
your feet are toiling up the slope, and you arrive at the
gate of heaven, hold np the cross; the angels shall
know it, and the everlasting doors shall unbar them-
selves, that you may enter in. "When you pass through
the ranks of applauding seraphim, that you may pay
your first homage to the throne, present the cross, and
lower it before the face of the Master, and he, for
whose sake you have borne it, will take it from you,
and replace it with a crown.

•riii.fi': t; r':' • , .

t.i vi

■ ,.;'■>.'

XI.

THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION.

" And he said, 0, let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak yot but
this once : peradvcnture ten shall bo found there. And he said, I will
not destroy it for ten's sake."— Genesis xviii. 32.

Most remarkable and most encouraging is this
instance of prevailing prayer. It might well Btimulate
us to the exercise of sublimer faith when we behold a
mortal thus wrestling with Omnipotence, wrestling with
Buch holy boldness that justice suspends its inflictions,
and cannot seal the sinner's doom. Passing over that,
however, with all the doctrines it involves, there is
another thought couched in the text, to which, at the
present time, I want to direct your attention. The
history of nations must be regarded, by every enlight-
ened mind, as the history of the providence of God. It
is not enough, if wo Avould study history aright, that
we follow in the track of battles, that we listen to the
wail of the vanquished and to the shout of the con-
querors ; it is not enough that we excite in ourselves a
sort of hero worship of the world's foster-gods, the stal-
warth and noble peerage of mankind ; it is not enough
that we trace upon the page of history the subtile and

270

(ii Vl '•

:v ; • • n

CTY ON A NATION.

be angry, and I will speak yot but
found there. Aiul he said, I will
IIS xviii. 32.

noBt encouraging is this
r. It might well stimulate
er faith wlien we hehold a
Omnipotence, wrestling with
ice suspends its inflictions,
doon). Passing over that,
rines it involves, there is
I the text, to which, at the
irect your attention. The
regarded, hy every enlight-
the providence of God. It
I study history aright, that
attles, that we listen to the
[ to the shout of the con-
at we excite in ourselves a
ivorld's foster-gods, the stal-
mankind ; it is not enough
i of history the subtile and

THE EFFKCT8 OF I'Mfry ON A NATION.

'.i i

intricate developnicnts of human character. To study
history aright, we nmst find God in it, we must always
recognize the ever-present and the ever-acting Divinity,
working all tilings according to the counsel of his bene-
volent and holy will. Tiiis is the prominent aspect ip
which history ought to bo studied, or grievous dishonor
is done to the Universal Ruler, and intense injury is
inflicted upon the spirits of men. God, himself, you
remember, has impressively announced the guilt and
danger of those who regard not the works of the Lord,
nor the operations of his hands. The history of ancient
Israel, for instance, the chosen people, led by the pillar
of cloud by day, and by the pillar of fire by night,
through the marching of that perilous wilderness, what
was it but the successful development, in a series of
wondrous deliverances, of tlie evcr-active providence of
God ? Tliero were some things in that history which, of
coui-se, were incapable either of transfer or repetition ;
but the history itself included, and was ordained to set
forth certain prominent principles for the recognition
of all nations ; principles which were intended to assert
the rights of God, and to assert the obligations of his
creatures ; principles which are to be consummated in
their evolution amid the solemnities of the last day. It
was 80 in the case of Sodom, punished as an example
of God's chosen people. Their transgressions had
become obduracy, their obduracy had blossomed out
into punishment ; but a chance in the Divine govern-
ment yet remained to them ; peradventnre there might

278

TUB EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION.

have been ten righteous in the city. If there had oeen
ten righteous in the city, those pious men would Lave
been the substance, the essence, the strength of the
devoted nation; f'-r thcni, on their account, for their
Siikes, the utter ruin of the land might have been
averted, and through them, after the Divine displeasure
had passed by, there might have sprung up renewed
strength and recovered glory. Wc may fairly, I think,
take this as a general principle, that pious men in all
ages of the world's history, are the true strength of the
nations in which, in God's providence, they are privi-
leged to live ; oftentimes averting calamity, oftentimes
restoring strength and blessing, when, but for tliem, it
would have lapsed and gone fcrcvcr. This is the prin-
ciple which I purpose, God helping me, to apply for a
moment to our own times, and to the land in which wo
live ; and in order to give the subject a great deal of a
practical character, I will, in the first place, paint the
pious men, and then show the effect which the consis-
tent maintenance of a course of piety may be expected
to insure.

I. In the first place, who are the pious men ? "Who
are they whom God, who never judges in short-sighted-
ness, who sees the end from the beginning, and who
cannot possibly be deceived or mistaken in his estimate
of human character, who are they whom God desig-
nates, " the holy seed that shall be the substance
thereof — the pious men that are the strength of the
nations in which they live? In order to sustain the

V ON A NATION.

) city. If there had been

pious men would Lavo
nee, tlio strength of the

1 their account, for their
) land might have been
tcr the Divine displeasure
have sprung up renewed

Wc may fairly, I think,
lie, that pious men in all
•0 the true strength of tho
Tovidence, they are privi-
rting calamity, oftentimes
iig, when, but for tliem, it
V'revcr. This is the prin-
lelping me, to apply for a
d to the land in which wo
J subject a great deal of a
, the first place, paint the
he effect which the consis-
) of piety may be expected

ire the pious men ? Who
rer judges in short-sighted-
1 the beginning, and who
)r mistaken in his estimate
i-e they whom God desig-
t shall be the Bubstanco
at are the strength of the
' In order to sustain the

THK EKFE0T9 OF PIETY ON A NATION.

27U

hrmorable appellation which is thus aHsigncd, men must
cultivate habits of tlmnglit mul of ])racticc that are
npiirojiriato to hucIi a character. 1 will jii.st nicntiun
two or three particulars.

In the first place, they are pious men who separate
themselves avowedly and at the utmost posHible dis-
tance from surrounding wickedness. !Men ore i)lui'cd
under the influence of religion, in order that they nuvy
separate from sin, in order that they may be governed
by tho habits of righteousness and true holiness. In
times when dejjravity is especially flagrant, there is a
special obligation upon pious men to bring out their
virtues into braver and more prominent exercise, re-
garding that surrounding depravity as in no wise a
reason for flinching, or for cowardice, or for compro-
mise, but rather for the augmented firnmess of their
purity. Kow, it cannot for one moment be doubted,
that in the times in which wo live iniquity does most
flagrantly abound. There is not a sin which docs not
exist, and exists in all rankness and impurity. Because
of swearing the land mourns. God's Sabbaths are
systematically desecrated, his sanctuaries contume-
liously forsaken, his ordinances trampled under fool, his
ministei-s met Avith the leer oftentimes due to detected
conspirators, and regarded as banded traitors, who have
conspired against the liberties of the world. The lusts
of the flesh scarcely afi'ect to conceal their filthiness,
everywhere unveiling their forms, and everywhere
diffusing their pestilence. We do not venture upon

S80

THE EFFECTS OF PIKTV ON A NATION.

any sort of compariHoii, we do not venture to compare
the U{,'},'irg!ito (U'pmvity of tliiri n^'o willi the dt'imivity
of nny iv^a tluit liufl prcccdi'd. Wo <io nut atlirin tlio
gonorul I'lU't, tlmt the heart of niiin i.- " deceitful und
(leHpLiutely wicked," and that the dL-pnivily we Kce
around us, tlic exhibition of rlie canuil mind, "which it)
•Miinity against God," is most fearfully aggravated by
thu "bundancc of privilege by which tho people are
Burronnded. Now, it is tho duty, I repeat, of those
who would have God's rstimato of them as pious men,
tliat they sliould regard this depravify as invoking them
to bear the testimony of unsullied oii'i spotless holiness.
Let the exhortations on this matter which are scattered
thruiitjjiiout tho pngca of the Bible bo solemnly pon-
dered. "Bo not :<.nforr>'cd to this world, but b6 ye
transformed according to tho renewing of your mind,
that yo mcy j rove what m iluit good and acceptable and
perfect will of Gi.>L'' "^Vbstain from the appearance of
evil." In times vh^u depravity is especially flagrant>
do not even 1> -iiow of tho garments of falsehood ; do
not let there bo any meretricious semblance of that
■which in hateful in the sight of God. Abstain from tho
appearance of evil. Come out of it so thoroughly that
the fellowshii^s and intercourse of social life do not
seduce you into a sort of complicity. " Be not par-
takers of other men's sins. Ilave no fellowship with
tho unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove."
" Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers,
for what fellowship hath light with darkness, and what

CTV ON A NATION.

do not vonturo to compare
hiri n^'o willi tho dupravity
xl. Wo '.ii> not atlirin tlio

of man i.. " dccoitt'ul and
hat tlio dL-pravity we hco
fho canuil mind, "which iB
st fearfully aggravated by

by which tho people ore
duty, I repeat, of those
lato of thoni as pious men,
depravity is invoking thuni
sullied aii'i -ipotlcsa holincBfl.

matter which are scattered
lio Bible bo solemnly pon-
i to this world, but bfi ye
10 renewing of your mind,
lat good and acceptable and
tain from the appearance of
•avity is especially flagrant?

garments of falsehood ; do
jtricious semblance of that
; of God. Abstain from the
out of it so thoroughly that
jurso of social life do not

complicity. "Be not par-
llave no fellowship with
kness, but rather reprove."
d together with unbelievers,
^lit with darkness, and wliat

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THE EFFECTS OF TIKTY ON A NATION.

281

concord liatli Christ with Belial, and what part hath ho
that belicveth with an infidel?" '-Cleanse yourselves
frpm all filthiness of flesh and spirit; perfecthig holi-
ness in the fear of God."

You will not fail to perceive that the whole of these
passages have one aim and one summons, and that is
holiness ; holiness, as spotless in the secrecy of indi-
vidual consciousness as in the jealous watch of men ;
holiness shrined in the heart and influencing benignly
and transforming the entire character ; holiness, that is
something more chivalrous than national honor ; holi-
ness, something that maintains a higher standard of
right than commercial integrity; holiness, something
that is more noble-minded than the conventional cour-
tesies of life; holiness Avhich comes out in every-day
existence, hallowing each transaction, taking hold of the
money as it pusses through the hand in ordinary cur-
rency, and stamping upon it 'x more noble image and
superscription than Caesar's ; holiness written upon the
bells of the horses and upon the frontlet of the forehead,
an immaculate and spotless lustre exuding, so to speak,
from the man in daily life, so that the world starts back
from him, and tells at a glance that he has been with
Jesus. Now, brethren, it is to this, to the exercise and
maintenance of this unflinching holiness, that you are
called. Here is the first prominent obligation of pious
men. You are to confront every evil with its exact and
diametrical opposite; and he who in circumstances
like these in which we stand, ventures to hesitate, or

282

THE KFFKCT3 OF PIETY ON A NATION.

ventures to parley, brand him as a traitc- to his conn-
try, a traitor to his religion, and a troitor to his God.

Secondly, it" you would bo what God regards as pious
men, you must cultivate firm attachment to the doc-
trines of Christian truth. There is, brethren, in our
diiy, a very widely-diffused defectiveness of religious
profession, a very widely-diffused departure from the
faith that was " once delivered to the saints." This is a
Christian country. Men call it so, I know ; but there
is in daily practice a strange and sad departure from
the precepts of Christianity— ay, on the part of men by
whom the theory of this being a Christian country is
most noisily and boisterously maintained.

Are you strangers to the presence in the midst of us
of the dark and subtile spirit of unbelief; a venal press
and active emissaries poisoning the fresh blood of
youth, disheartening the last hope of age, and which, if
their own account of the circxilation of their pernicious
principles is to be relied upon, has already tainted
Imndreds of thousands with that infectious venom
whose poison lies not in the destruction of the body ?
True, it is for the most part bland, conciliatory,
plausible, rather than audacious and braggart, as in
former times, veiling its deadly purpose in song or in
story. But the dagger is not the less deadly because
the haft is jewelled, and infidelity is not the less infi-
delity, not the less pernicious, not the less accureed,
because genius has woven its stories to adorn it, and
because fancy has wreathed it into song. ; v -rn*/

;ty on a nation.

m as a traitoi to his conn-
and a troitor to bis God.
what God regards as pious
•m attachment to the doo-
Thero is, brethren, in our

defectiveness of religious
iffuscd departure from the
ed to tlie saints." This is a
,11 it so, I know ; but there
je and sad departure from
—ay, on the part of men by
eing a Christian country is
y maintained.

presence in the midst of us
it of unbelief; a venal press
soning the fresh blood of
it hope of age, and which, if
rculation of their pernicious

upon, has already tainted
dth that infectious venom
;he destruction of the body ?
t part bland, conciliatory,
lacious and braggart, as in
sadly purpose in song or in
not the less deadly because
nfidelity is not the less infi-
;iou8, not the less accureed,
I its stories to adorn it, and
d it into song. , r t. f. f./r

THE EFFECTS OF PIICTV ON A NATION.

283

Are you strangers to the avowed denial on the part
of some of the divinity and atonement of our Lord
Jesus Christ ? to the man-exalting opinion which relics
for its own salvation upon the piled up fabric of its own
righteousness, or which through the flinty rocks of self-
righteous morality, would tuimel out a passage to the
eternal throne ?

Are you strangers to the workings of the grand
apostasy darkening the sunlight of the Saviour's love,
dislocating the perfection of the Saviour's work, ham-
pering the course of the atonement with the frail
entangled frame-work of human merit, restless in its
endeavors to regain its ascendency, crafty, and vigilant
and formidable as ever ?

Are you strangers to the heresy which has made its
appearance in the midst of a body once deeming itself
the fairest offspring of the Eeformation, and which
would exclude thousands from covenanted mercies, be-
cause they own not priestly pretensions, and conform
not to traditional rites ?

Are you strangers in the other quarter of the horizon
and of the sky, to dark and lowering portents that liave
come over with rationalistic and German infidelity?
Brethren, there is a duty, solemn and authoritative,
resting upon the pious men that they hold fast that
which was " 6nce delivered to the saints." Let the
exhortations, too, on this matter, be carefully pondered.
"Be no more children tossed to and fro with every
wind of doctrine, by the sleight of man and cunning

Og4 THE EFFKOT3 OF PIETY ON A NATION.

craftiness whereby they lie in wait to be* .ay." " SUind

fast "-not loose, not easily slnftod, having a firm

foundation-" stand lust in the faith onee delivered unto

the saints." Be " rooted in the faith ;" be » grounded

in the faiih ;" " contend earnestly for the faith. iirc-

thren, here is another invocation, and it is solemnly

binding upon you. And while there are some around

us that would rob Christ of his grace, and others that

would rob Christ of his crown, and others, more royal

felons, that would steal both the one and the other, let

it be ours to take our stand firm and unswerving by the

altars of the truth ; let our determination go forth to the

universe, "I determine to know notlung among men,

save Jesus Christ, and him crucified."

And, then, thirdly, if you would be pious men as God
estimates piety, you must cultivate cordial, brotherly
love In times like these, there is a solemn obligation
resting upon all "who hold the head" to cultivate the
spirit of unity with all "who hold the head." By
unity, we do not mean uniformity. There is none, there
can be none in the free universe of God. You have it
not in nature. You may go out into the waving wood-
land, when death is on the trees, and you may prune
their riotous growth, and mold, and shape, and cut them
into something like a decent, a decorous uniformity ; but
the returning spring, when it comes, will laugh at your

aimless labor.

Wherever there is life, there will be found variety of
engaging forms which attract and fascinate the eye.

lETY ON A NATION.

in wait to W.-ay." "Stand
iily Bhiftf^d, having a firm
tbc faith once delivered unto
m the faith ;" be » grounded
irnestly for the faith." 13rc-
^rocation, and it is solemnly
ivhile there arc some around
of his grace, and others that
■own, and others, more royal
3th the one and the other, let
d firm and unswerving by the
determination go forth to the

know nothing among men,

1 crucified." * ' '^'
)u would be pious men as God
it cultivate cordial, brotherly
!, there is a solemn obligation
lid the head "to cultivate the

"who hold the head." By
iformity. There is none, there
miversc of God. You have it
go out into the waving wood-
tho trees, and you may prune
mold, and shape, and cut them
ent, a decorous uniformity ; but
en it comes, will laugh at your

, there will be found variety of
attract and fascinate the eye.

THE KFFKCTa OF PIKTT ON A NATION.

285

We do not mean uniformity, therefore ; the harmony of
voices, or the adjustment of actions, the drowsy repeti-
tion of one belief, or the harmonious intonation of one
liturgy, but we mean " the unity of the spirit in the
bond of peace," which wo arc to intensely labor to
maintain and procure. Let the exhortations on this
matter also bo very solemnly pondered. " A new com-
mandment," 60 that there are eleven commandments
now; the decalogue has been added to by this new
commandment, which is, indeed, the substance and es-
sence of all the rest. " A new commandment give 1
unto you, that yo love one another." "Bo kindly
afl'ectioned one to another, in brotherly love, in honor
preferring one another." Nay, the Apostle docs not
hesitate to set it down as one of the surest evidences of
Christian discipleship. " Wo know that we have passed
from death unto life, because we love the brethren."
Compliance with these exhortations is always imperative,
especially imperative in seasons of national danger.
Everything that is ominous, everything that is solemn,
everything that is portentous around us, must be re-
garded as an earnest call to Christians to live together
in love. This love is to be cherished everywhere— to
be cherished toward those who are members of the same
section of the universal Church. Here, of course, there
should be no orphan's heart. Here, all should feel
themselves members of a commonwealth. There should
be a rejoicing with those that do rejoice, and a weeping
with those that weep ; and, as by electric fire, the wants

28C

THE EFFECTS OF PIETT ON A NATION.

and tho wishes of tho one should bo cmmunicatcd to,
and acknowledged by tho whole, that it should not only
be cherished in our own communion, but toward all who
hold " the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace, and
in righteousness of life." Wherever Christ is acknow-
ledged, his grace magnified, his crown vindicuted, his
law°made honorable— wherever the service of Christ is
the aim, and tho glory of Christ is tho purpose, there
tho Church should know as Christian and should haU as
brethren. This duty is ono that has been scandalously
neglected in the times in which we live; and that
ueglect has darkened the aspect and augmented the
perils of tho times. Brethren, wo must all amend if we
would not betray. And when the Church of Christ
shall combine in heart as in spirit one, then shall the
great building of the universe progress. God shall
smile upon tho workmen, » the glory of the latter house
shall exceed tho glory of the former," and the whole
« building fitly framed together shall grow up into a
holy temple of the Lord."

Then, fourthly, if we would be pious men aa God esti-
mates piety, we must be zealous in endeavor for the
spread of the Gospel, and for the conversion of the
world. The errors and tho crimes of which we have
spoken, render this e^ential. We have but to gather
into our minds the contemplation of guilt so heinous, so
ofiensive that it rises up in the presence of the Holy
One, and calls for vengeance as he is seated upon his
throne; then, we have but to remember the conse-

lETT ON A NATION.

should bo cr mmunicated to,
rholc, that it should not only
mnuuiou, but toward all who
it in the bond of peace, and
Wherever Clirist is ack'-.ow-
id, his crown vindicuted, hia
•ever the service of Christ is

Christ is the purpose, there
\ Christian and should hail as
5 that has been scandalously
a which we live; and that

aspect and augmented the
ren, wo must all amend if we

when the Church of Christ

in spirit one, then shall the
liverse progress. God shall
" the glory of the latter house
' the former," and the whole
)gether shall grow up into a

)uld be pious men as God esti-
I zealous in endeavor for the
id for the conversion of the
the crimes of which we have
tial. Wo have but to gather
aplation of guilt so heinous, so
in the presence of the Holy
ance as he is seated upon his
but to remember the conse-

TUK KFFKCTft OB" riKTY ON A NATION.

287

qucnccs of that guilt, everywhere producing misery,
everywhere drying up the sources of spiritual affluence,
everywhere exposing to the unending perditions of hell.
Now, brethren, nothing— and I would speak as one
member of the army summoning others to the battle-
field—nothing will avail but the combined, and devoted,
and persevering exertions of the members of the Church
below. How else shall we attempt to grapple with the
depravity around us ? Parliamentary enactments, what
can they do? Threats to aftVight, or bribes to seduce,
what can they do 2 Patronage in all its prestige, and
all its power, all that can be possibly brought out of
State treasury or of State influence, what are they?
Avoilless utterly without the power and Spirit of God.
No ; there must be a band of faithful men who arc thus
renovated and redeemed going forth in the name of the
Lord. They must sustain the ministry in existing pas-
torates, and spread it wherever it has never been estab-
lished. They must support institutions for the educa-
tion of the entire man, institutions based upon the Word
of God. They must become themselves preachers of
« the truth as it is in Jesus ;" by prayer, by influence,
by example, by effort, they must display all the grace
which has redeemed the- 1 ; and especially they must
all in earnest, repeated, iuivortunate supplications be-
siege the throne of grace in prayer. There is another
summons, the last I shall give you on ^jib' matter to-
night, and you are now to answer it with intense energy,
with intense zeal. Coldness here is irrational. Ardor

TiiK tFFKora OF riKry on a mation.

hero is reason. InUiiiorcncc hero is foolishuesB. Ear-
nestness, or, if you will, entliusiasm hero is the highest
and Bublitnest wisdom.

If you Avould be pious men, therefore, as God eati-
luutes piety, you are to come out from the world and
to be separated from it ; you are to hold fast the doc-
trines you have received ; you are to cultivate to each
other the tenderest brotherly love ; and you are to bo
energetic in heart for the conversion of the world.

II. I come now, secondly and briefly, to notice the
ettects which wo are warranted in expecting such con-
duct as this to insure. This is the doctrine of the text,
that Sodoni would have been spared if the ten righteous
men had been there. Pious men arc presented to us,
therefore, as the safety of the nation in which they live.
This is very beautifully presented in several other parts
of Scripture. You have it, for instance, in the pro-
phecy of Isaiah, Ixv. 8, 9 : " Thus saith the Lord, As
the new wine is found in the cluster, and one eaith.
Destroy it not ; for a blessing is in it ; so will I do for
my servants' sakcs, that I may not destroy them all.
And I will bring forth a seed out of Jacob, and out of
Judah an inlieritor of my mountains ; and mine elect
shall inherit it, and my servants shall dwell there."
Then, again, in the j^rophecy of Malachi, iii. 10, 11 :
" Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there
may bo meat in mine house, and prove me now here-
with, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the
windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that

IKty ON A NATION.

TUK EFFliXria OF I'IKTY ON A NATION.

2>^!)

EC lioro is fuulishuesB. Ear-
thusiasm here is tlio higUeat

men, tlierclbrc, as God esti-
>mo out from the world and
rou aro to hold fast the doc-
yon are to cultivate to each
rly love ; and you aro to bo
oiiversion of the world.
ly and briefly, to notice the
finted in expecting such cou-
lia is the doctrine of the text,
en spared if the ten righteous
>U3 men arc presented to ue,
the nation in which they live,
•csented in several other parts
it, for instance, in the pro-
: "Thus saith the Lord, As
n the cluster, and one saith,
sing is in it ; so will I do for
I may not destroy them all.
seed out of Jacob, and out of
y mountains ; and mine elect
servants shall dwell there."
)hccy of Malachi, iii. 10, 11 :
nto the storehouse, that thex'e
use, and prove me now here-
)6t8, if I will not open you the
pour you out a blessing, that

there shall not bo room enough to receive it. And I
will rebuke the devourcr for your sakos, and he bIuiU
nut destroy the fruits of your ground, neither shall your
vine cast her fruit before the time in the iiekl, suith the
Lord of hosts."

Wo see here the development of the general principle
for which we contend, that Cod preserves nations for
the sake of pious men. The annals of the past show
how very frequently he has put to naught statesman-
shi]), fleets, and armies, and has rendered honor to truth,
raeeknefs, and righteousness. This I do solenmly be-
lieve to be the case in our own land in this crisis of its
afl'airs, and I am bold to aflirm my conviction, that tho
destinies of Englaml and of tho British F.mpiro arc at
this moment in tho hands of its pious men. If they be
faithful to their high trust and to the vocation to which
they are eminently and signally called, nothing can
harm us ; no weapon that is formed against us shall
ever bo able to prosper. 1 think this might bo made
out from the history of the past, both as to temporal
and spiritual matters. I appeal to you whether it is
not manifest that the temporal interests of a nation are
bound up in its piety? Let pious men prevail in a
laud, let the population become imbued with the spirit
and with the leaven of evangelical godliness, what is
the consequence? Order is at once preserved. As
their holiness spreads, as their unworldly yet earnest
example manifests itself and begins to be felt, sounder

views prevail. The moral is felt to exert a supremacy

290

THE KFFKCTB OF I'llCTV ON A NATION.

over the secular ; tl.c puliticiil agitator, tho infidel df.nft.
L'u-uc, tUo i.hiloosi.l.iful theorist, arc scouted as pl.y«|-
ci>m8 of no value ; and nieu everywhere learn to Huhnnt
to -the orderly restraint, and tho well-regulated goveru-

ment of law.

Let pious men prevail, and they .vdl keep up tho
freedom of a laud. I do not mean that crouehing
cmaseulation on tho ono hand, i.or that ribald l.een-
tiousncss on tho other Imnd, which have both been
di.mified by tho namo by extreme political parties;
but 1 mean well-ordered and rational liberty ; bberty
which respects tho rights of other people at tho Bamo
timo that it asserts and vindicates its own ; liberty
which with ono hand renders to Cicsar tho things that
aro Cffisar's, and with the other hand takes caro to
render to God tho things that are God's ; liberty which
honors men as men, just because tho Divine command
tolls it to "honor all men," and because, all tho world
over, there is nothing bo royal as a man. That liberty
will be preserved wherever pious men are found, and
wherever tho example of those pious men begins to
spread itself among people.

And, then, pious men will preserve tho prosperity of
a land. There is a false prosperity which must be aban-
doned; there is a false honor which must be speedily
forsworn ; but that prosperity which is substantial and
abiding will remain under the influences of piety. Art
will minister then not to luxury but to truth; science
wUl minister then not to infidelity but to truth; com

y ON A NATION.

nj^itator, tlio infidel Ufino-
•ist, arc Bfoutcd as pliyui-
k-erywliero learn to BiiV)init
ho wull-rcgulatecl goveru-

id they will keep up tho
not mean that crouching
,nd, uor that ribald liccn-
1, which have both been
extreme political parties;
d rational liberty ; liberty

other people at tho Bamo
indicates its own; liberty
srs to Cicsar tho things that

other hand takes caro to
ivt are God's ; liberty which
!cau80 tho Divine command
' and because, all tho world
yal as a man. That liberty
f pious men are found, and

these pious men begins to

11 preserve tho prosperity of
asperity whicb must be aban-
)nor which must be speedily
rity which is substantial and
the influences of piety. Art
luxury but to trutli ; science
infidelity but to truth ; com

TICK KFKKCT8 OV JMKIT ON A NATION.

291

m^rce will minister then not to polfislin('<<s but to bo-
novuIcMce ; and other reiihns HJiiill rciKU-r to u« their
unltought and unpnrcliasuble lioniaj^e, and the sons of
our country, in their not unholy pride, may wave their
baimor to tho wind, with tho motto on it :

" Ho in llio frcciimu wlinm tho truth iiiiikeH frco,
And nil urc bIuvch licsidus."

Yes, brethren, it is Britain's altar and not Britain's
throne, Britain's Bible and not Britain's statute book,
that is tho great, and deep, and strong source of her
national pro8])erity and renown. Do away with this ;
Buflerthat fidelity with which, in some humble measure,
Ave have bomo witness for God, to be relaxed ; let our
Sabbaths bo sinned away at the biddini^ of unholy or
mintaken mobs ; let us enter into adulterous and un-
worthy alliance with tho man of sin ; lot us be traitors
to the trust with which God has invested us, to take
care of the ark of the Lord, and the crown will lose its
lustre, the peerage its nobility, and tho senate its com-
mand ; all tho phases of social rank and order will bo
disjointed and disorganized ; a lava tide of desolation
will overwhelm all that is consecrated and noble, and
angels may sing the dirge over a once great, but now
hopelessly fallen people : " the glory is departed from
Israel, because the ark of God is taken." Keep fast by
that ark, hold it — hold your attachment to it as tho
strongest element of being, and there shall be no bounds
to the sacred magnificence of our nation ; but tho fires

292

TUE EFFECTS OF PIETT ON A NATION.

of the last day, when they consume all that is perishable
and drossy, may see us with the light of the Divine
presence gleaming harmlessly around our brow, and in
our hand the open law for all the nations of mankind.

Those are temporal benelits. And, then, let there be
pious men in the land, and spiritual benefits will also
be secured. There will, for instance, be the defeat of
erroneous opinions. Truth, when the Spirit inspires it
not, abstract truth, is weak and powerless. Truth, with
the Spirit in it, is mighty, and will prevail. There can
be no fear as to the result, because the world has never
been left, and will never be left without the active
Spirit of God. Falsehood breaks out impetuously, just
like one of those torrents that leap and rattle over the
summit of the mountain after the thunder-storm, over-
whelming in the first outbreak, but dying away into
insignificance and silence by and by ; truth is the little
spring that rises up imperceptibly and gently, and flows
on, unostentatious and noiseless, until at last navies arc
wafted on its bosom, and it pours its full volume of
triumphant waters into the rejoicing sea. So it will be
with truth ; wealth cannot bribe it, talent cannot dazzle
it, sophistry cannot overreach it, authority cannot please
it ; they all, like Felix, tremble in its majestic presence.
Let pious men increase, and each of them will become
a centre of holiness ; apostates will be brought back to
the Church, poor backsliders will be reclaimed into new-
found liberty and new created privilege, and there will
be a cry like that on the summit of Carmel after the

ON A NATION.

me all that is perieliable
ho light of tho Divine
round our brow, and in
lie nations of mankind.

And, then, let there be
iritual benefits will also
stance, be the defeat of
en the Spirit inspires it

powerless. Truth, with
rtill prevail. There can
luse the world has never
left without the active
,ks out impetuously, just
leap and rattle over the
the thunder-storm, over-
ik, but dying away into
[id by ; truth is the little
Ay and gently, and flows
i, until at last navies are
>ours its full volume of
)icing sea. So it will be
>G it, talent cannot dazzle
t, authority cannot please

I in its majestic presence,
ich of them will become
will be brought back to

II be reclaimed into new-
privilege, and there will

unit of Carmel after tho

THK KFKEOTS OF PIETY ON A NATION.

29S

controversy was over, and had issued in the discomfi-
ture of Baal, " The Lord, he is God ; the Lord, he is
God."

And, then, better than all that, salvation of souls M-ill
be secured. Tlie conversion of a soul is an infinitely
greater triumph than the eradication of a false ojjinion.
A false opinion may be crushed, and the man tiiat holds
it may be in imminent spiritual peril ; convert the man's
soul, and his opinions will come right by and by. Oh,
if as you go from this place to-night, you were to be-
hold the crowds of tempters and temptresses to evil that
will cross your path as you travel homeward, if you
think of their activity, of their earnestness to proselytize
in the gi-and diabolical army, and to make sevenfold
more the children of hell than they are themselves, and
if you think of the apathy of the faithful, of the scanti-
ness of effort, of the failure of faith, of the depression
of endeavor, of the laxity of attachment on the part of
believere in Jesus, surely there is enough to make you
abashed and confounded. Brethren, I should like, if
I could, to bring before you one solitary soul, to fasten
your attention upon that soul, to transfix it as with a
lightning glance before you, so that you might trace it
in its downward path, see it as habit crusts it over, and
selfishness rejoices over it, and the foul fiend gloats
upon it in mockery, and disease, prematurely induced,
comes upon it, and death waits for his prey, and hell is
moved from beneath to meet it at its coming, and that
vou should follow it down into those dark and dread

294

TUE EFFK0T8 OF I'llilT ON A NATION.

abodes, which man's pencil painteth not, and of which
man's imagination, thank God, cannot conceive 1 Oh !
draw the curtain over that ; we canm^t Lear the sight I
But as you think of the real spiritual peril in which not
one, not a family— Oh ! if there were hut a family, all
London would ho awake for ils deliverance— hut there
is a world in danger— not one, not a family, not an
island, not a continent, hut a world— if I could only
fasten that upon your consciences to-night, each one of
you would surely go away with tearful eye and glad
heart, glad that you were able to do anything for God,
and would not rest without saying, " For Zion's sake 1
will not hold my peace, and fur Jerusalem's sake, I will
not rest until the righteousness thereof go forth as the
Lrightncss, and the salvation thereof as the lamp that
hurncth."

Just one parting word, K you would do all this, you
must be pious yourselves; but do not bo among the
number of those who busy themselves in tlie cxtornal-
isms of godliness, and are in some measure active in
connection with the Church of God, but are out of
Christ, aliens themselves from the commonwealth of
Israel. If you are not personally pious, you will bo
accomplices in drawing down the thunderbolt, and
chargeable to that extent with your country's ruin, and
the ruin of souls. Come to Christ now ; let all your
past iniquity be forgotten and forgiven as you bow
before him in humiliation and in tears; he will not
refuse you ; he will not cast you out. Then enter upon

^ ON A NATION.

liiitetli not, and of which
, cannot conceive ! Oh !
;q canm^t hear the sight 1
)iritual peril in which not
jre were hnt a family, all
s deliverance — hut there
no, not a family, not an
I world — if I could only
ices to-night, each one of
ith tearful eye and glad
3 to do anything for God,
aying, " For Zion's sake 1
.)r Jerusalem's sake, I will
>6S thereof go forth as the
thereof as the lam]) that

you would do all this, you
lut do not ho among tho
liemselves in tlic cxtcrnal-
L some measure active in

of God, but are out of
m the commonwealth of
on ally pious, you will ho
wu the thunderbolt, and
li your country's ruin, and

Christ now; let all your
ind forgiven as you bow
md in teal's; he will not
fou out. Then enter upon

THE EFFKCrS OF VlWiX ON A NATION.

295

a life of piety in spite of all that scoliers say. Ah !
religion is not so mean a thing as infidels represent it to
be ! They curl the lip of scorn at us, and we can hear
that ; they flash the eye of hate at ns, and we can bear
that, as long as God looks upon us with complacency,
as long as he has promised to crown us as concpierors in
heaven, for which, by our spiritual conflicts and vic-
tories, wo shall have come prepared. Oh, it is no mean
thing. The saint, the rightequs man, the pious believer
in Jesus, is a patriot as well as a saint. The worldling
may sneer and scorn, but we have a noble revenge, for
it is pious men that have kept the conflagrating
elements away from this long doomed world up to the
present moment of its history ; and if the ten righteous
had not been in this enormous Sodom, long ere now
would the firebrand of destruction have struck it that it
might be consumed in its deserved ruin. Thank God,
there is hofe for the world yet.

"When the prophet in depression and in sorrow was
saying, "I, even I, only am left, the prophet of the
Lord," God pointed him to seven thousand that had
never bowed the knee to Baal ; and there are faithful
ones in the secret places of the world yet, palm-tree
Christians growing up in unexpected places, amid sandy
soil and with no companionship, who are flourishing in
godly vigor and earnest in persevering prayer. There
is hope for the world yet. Oh, for the increase of these
pious men ! Be you of the number of this unosten-
tatious but valiant host. Do you pant for fame ? You

296

THE EFFECTS OF PIETY ON A NATION.

can find it here. Young men, there are some of you in
the presence of God that have ambition high hounding
in your hearts, who feel the elasticity of youth within
you ; who feel that the flight of your soaring spirit is
not the flight of the flagging or the breathless; that
there is something still within you that pants for a
distinction other than you have yet attained ; oh come
to Christ, enlist yourselves in his service, bo soldiers of
the cross, fight moral battles, and yours shall be the
victory. To you the Church is looking ; your fathers,
worn out with labor, exhausted with the vicissitudes
and the victories of years, are passing rapidly away, and
they are wondering where their successors are. They
have gone from us ; just when wo were expecting for
them higher fields and wider triumphs, the fiery chariot
came and they were not, and nothing was left for us but
to cry as we followed the track of the cavalcade, in our
hopelessness, almost in our agony, "My father, my
father, the chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof."
Oh ! thank God, they have flung their mantles down,
and it is for you to catch them, to robe yourselves to-day
in the garments of the holy departed, and like them, to
do and die. , , '

ON A NATION.

there are soine of you in
ambition higli bounding
lasticity of youth within
if your soaring spirit is

or the breathless ; tliat
I you that pants for a
! yet attained ; oh come
is service, bo Boldiers of
and yours shall be the
3 looking ; your fathers,
2d with the vicissitudes
assing rapidly away, and
Ir successors are. They

we were expecting for
iumphs, the fiery chariot
^tiling was left for us but

of the cavalcade, in our
igony, "My father, my
d the horsemen thereof."
mg their mantles down,
to robe yourselves to-day
parted, and like them, to

;is.U 1"

^■yA

',. H-

XII.

THE PROPHET OF IIOREB— HIS LIFE AND

^^,^^ .^,^ ,,, . ITS LESSONS.

"Elijah, the Tishbite, who was of the inhabitants of Giiaud." —
1 KiNOS, zvii. 1.

The mountains of the Bible will well repay the
climber. There is a glorious prospect from their
summits, and moral bracing in the breathing of their
difficult air.

Most of the events in Bible history, which either
embody great jmnciples, illustrate Divine perfections,
or bear impressively upon the destinies of man, have
had the mountains for the jjedestals of their achieve-
ment. Beneath the arch of the Covenant-rainbow the
lone ark rested upon Ararat ; Abraham's trial, handing
down the high faith of the hero-father, and typing the
greater sacrifice of the future time, must be " on one
of the mountains" in the land of Moriah; Aaron,
climbing heavenward, is "unclothed and clothed upon"
amid the solitudes of Hor ; and where but on the ci-est
of Nebo could Moses gaze upon the land and die ? If
there is to be a grand experiment to determine between
rival faiths — to defeat Baal — to exalt Jehovah, wliat

1 3* 2'JT

298

TIIK rRoI'IlKl' OF HOKF.B,

spot 60 fitting as the excellency of Carmcl ? It was duo
to the great and dread events of the Saviour's history
that they Bhould be enacted where the world's broad
eye could light upon them, hence he is transfigured
« on the high mountain apart," on Olivet he prays, on
Calvary ho dies ; and, at the close of all, in the
splendors of eternal allotment, amid adoring angels
and perfected men, we cheerfully "come to Mount

Zion."

Precious as is the Scripture in all phases of its
appearance, the quality which, above all others, invests
it with a richer value, is its exquisite adaptation to
every necessity of man. Professing itself to be his
infallible and constant instructor, it employs all modes
of communicating wisdom. " The Man of our coun-
sel " is always at hand, in every condition and in
every peril. But we learn more from living exemplar
than from preceptive utterance. The truth, which has
not been realized by some man of like passions with
ourselves, comes cold and distant like a lunar rainbow.
It may furnish us with coiTCCt notions and a beautiful
system, just as we can learn proportion from a statue,
but there needs the touch of life to influence and to
transform. Hence, not the least impressive and salu-
tary Bible teaching is by the accurate exhibition of
individual character. A man's life is there sketched
out to us, not that side of it merely which he presents
to the world, which the restraints of society have modi-
fied, which intercourse has subdued into docorousness,

)F HOKF.B,

jrofCarmcl? It was duo
, of the Savioxir's history
where the world's broad
hence he is transfigured
," on Olivet he prays, on
the close of all, in the
nt, amid adoring angels
erfully "come to Mount

ure in all phases of its
i, above all others, invests
ts exquisite adaptation to
'rofessing itself to be his
ctor, it employs all modes

" The Man of our conn-
1 every condition and in
lore from living exemplar
ice. The truth, which has
man of like passions with
stant like a lunar rainbow,
ct notions and a beautiful
1 proportion from a statue,
3f life to influence and to
least impressive and salu-
the accurate exhibition of
an's life is there sketched

merely which he presents
•aints of society have modi-
subdued into docorousness,

niS LIFE AND rrS LESSONb.

290

and which shrouds his meaner self in a conventional
hypocrisy ; but his inner life, his management of the
trifles which give the sum of character, his ordinary
and household doings, as well as the rarer seasons of
exigency and of trial. The whole man is before us, and
we can see him as he is. Partiality cannot blind us,
nor prejudice distort our view. Nothing is exagge-
rated, nothing is concealed. His defects are there — his
falterings and depressions — his mistrusts and betrayals
— like 60 many beacons glaring their warning lights
upon our path. His excellencies ure there — his stern
integrity and consistent walking, his intrepid wrestling
sind heroic endurance — that we may be followers of his
patience and faith, and ultimately share his crown. So
marked and hallowed is this candor, that we do not
wonder at its being alleged as an argument for the
book's divinity. The characters are all human in their
experience, although divine in their portrayal. They
were men, those Bible worthies, world-renowned,
God-smitten, princely men, towering ind^-od in moral,
as Saul in physical, stature above their fellows,
but still men of like passions with ourselves — to the
same frailties incident — with the same trials battling —
by the same temptations frequently and foully over-
come. Their perfect huma/iness is, indeed, their strong-
est influence and greatest charm. Of what avail to us
were the biography of an angel, could you chronicle his
joys in the calm round of heaven ? There could be no
sympathy either of condition or experience.

300

THE PEOPOET OF HORKB,

But the Bible, aBsuming the essential identity of the
rare, tells of man, and the " one blood » of all nations
leaps np to the thrilling talc. Tliero is the old narra-
tive of lapse and loss; the tidings, ancient and \mde-
caying, of temptation, conflict, mastery, recompense.
In ourselves there have been the quiverings of David's
sorrow, and the stirrings of David's sin. We, perhaps,
like Elijah, have been by tnrus confessor and coward-
fervent as Peter, and as fuithless too. The heart
answers to the history, and responsive and struggling
humanity owns the sympathy, and derives the bless-
ing.

It is a strange history, this history of the Prophet
Elijah. Throughout the whole of his career we are
attracted almost more by his inspiration than by him-
self. We are apt to lose sight of the man in the
thought of the Divine energy which wielded him at its
terrible or gentle will. The unconsciousness of self,
which is the distinctive mark of the true seer, is always
present with him— in his manliest and in his meekest
hours— in his solitary prayer in the loft at Zarephath,
in his solemn sarcasm on the summit of Carmel— when
he flushes the cheek of a dead child, or pales the brow
of a living king. He is surrendered always to the
indwelling God, He always seems to regard himself as
a chosen and a separated man— lifted, by his consecra-
tion, above the love or the fear of his kind— forced,
ever and anon, upon difficult and perilous duty—
a flying roll, carven with mercy and with judgment—

r IIORRB,

essential identity of the
no blood " of till natioiiB

Tliero Is tlio old narra-
diiigs, ancient and nndc-
;t, mastery, recompense,
he quiverings of David's
ivid's sin. We, perhaps,
s confessor and coward —
aithlesB too. The heart
responsive and struggling
f, and derives tbo blcss-

18 history of tbo Propbct
alo of bis career we aro

inspiration tban by bim-
sigbt of tlie man in tbo

wbicb wielded bim at its
e unconsciousnoss of self,
of the true seer, is always
nliest and in bis meekest
' in tbe loft at Zarepbatb,

summit of Carmel— wben
d cbild, or pales tbo brow
urrendered always to tbe

seems to regard himself as
in— lifted, by bis consecra-

fear of his kind — forced,
lult and perilous duty —
ercy and with judgment —

HIS LIFU: AM) ITS LESSONS.

301

an echo, rather tban an original utterance — " tbo
voice of one," not " one," but " tbo voice of one
crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye tiic way of tbo
Lord!"

JJow ahri/;pili/ lie lursta upon the world. Wo know
nothing of bis birtli, nothing of bis parentage, nothing
of his training. On all these matters the record is pro-
foundly silent. He is presented to us at once, a full-
grown and authoritative man, starting in tbe path of
Ahab sudden as the lightning, energetic and alarming
as the thunder. "Elijah the Tisbbite, who was of the
inhabitants of Gilead." This is all. And it is all we
need. What reck we of his ancestry ? He is royal in
his deeds. Obscure in his origin, springing probably
from the herdsmen or vinc-dresscrs of Galilee, regarded
by the men of Tishbo as one of themselves — a little
reserved and unsocial withal— his person, perhaps, held
in contempt by the licentious court, and bis iutrusiuiis
stigmatized as annoying impertinence, be held on his
high way notwithstanding, performed stupendous mira-
cles, received large revelations, and at last, tired of the
world, went up to heaven in a chariot of fire. How
often have we seen tbe main fact of this story realized
in later times ! Men have looked at the trappings of
tbe messenger— not at the import of bis message.
Their faculty of appreciation has been grievously im-
paired. A prophet baa leaped into the day with his
burden of reproof and truth-telling, but he has not been
clad in silken sheen, nor a speaker of smooth things,

302

THE PBOrnKT OP UORED,

and the world has gone on to ita mcrchandie'}, while the
broken-hearted seer has retired into the wilderness to
die. A poet has warbled out his soul in secret, and
discoursed most exquisite music— but, alasl it has been
played among the tombs. A glorious iconoclast has
coinc fortli among the peoples, "expecting that they
would have understood how that the Lord by him had
sent deliverance," but ho has been met by the insulting
rejoinder, "Who made thee a ruler and a judge?"
Tims, in the days of her nonage, because they lacked
high estate and lofty lineage, has the world poured con-
tempt upon some of the choicest of her sons. "A
heretic !" shouted the furious bigotry of the Inquisition.
"And yet it moves," said Galileo— resolute, even in the
moment of enforced abjuration, lor the immutable trutli.
A scoffing to Genoese bravos, grandees of Portugal, and
the court of England, Columbus spied the log of wood
in its eastward drifting, and opened up America— the
rich El Dorado of many an ancient dream. " An em-
piric !" shouted all the Doctor Sangradoes of the time,
and the old physiologists hated llarvey with an in-
tensely professional hatred, because he affirmed the cir-
culation of the blood. "A Bedfordshire tinker 1"
sneered the polite ones, with a whiff of the otto of roses,
as if the very mention of his craft was infragrant;
" what has he to do to preach, and write books, and set
up for a teacher of his fellows?" But glorious John
Bunyan, leaving them in their own Cabul-country,
dwelt in the land of Beulah, climbed up straight to the

' HOREO, /

} mcrcliandie';, while the
1 into the wilderness to
hia Boul in Bccret, and
! — but, alas 1 it has been
glorious iconoclast has
3, "expecting that they
lat the Lord by him had
ccn met by the insulting
a ruler and a judge?"
ige, because they lacked
us the world poured con-
>icc8t of her sons. "A
)igotry of the Inquisition,
leo — resolute, even in the
I for the immutable trutli.
jrandccs of Portugal, and
us spied the log of wood
jpened up America — the
ncient dream. " An em-
r Sangradoes of the time,
.ted llarvey with an iu-
cause he affirmed the cir-
L Bedfordshire tinker 1"
whifF of the otto of roses,
lis craft was infragrant;
and write books, and set
ivs?" But glorious John
heir own Cabul-country,
ilimbed up straight to the

Ilta LIFE AND ITS I.KSSONP.

no;]

presence of the shining ones, and luid " all the trumpets
sounding for hinx on tlio otlior side." HUhwy Smith
wroto at, and tried to write down "the conspcrated
Cobbler," who was to nvangelize India; but William
Carey sliall live embalmed in memories of conveited
thousands long after the witty canon of St. Taul's is lor-
gotten or is remembered only an a melancholy e.\a'iij)le
of genius perverted and a vocation mistaken. "A
Methodist I" jested the godless witlings of Brazennoso ;
"A Jacobin!" reiterated the makers of silver shrines;
" A ringleader in the Gordon Illots !" said the Romanists
whose errors ho had combated; and the formalistic
churchmanship of that day gathered up its gentilities,
smoothed its ruffled fringes, and with a dowager's state-
liness flounced by " on the other side ;" and roputablo
burghers, the " canny bodies " of the time, subsided into
their own respectabilities, and shook their heads at
every mention of the pestilent fellow ; but, calm-browed
and high-soulcd, John "Wesley went on until a large
portion of his world-parish rejoiced in his light, and
wondered at its luminous and ardent flame. And if it
be lawful to speak of the Master in the same list as his
disciples, who, however excellent, fall immeasurably
short of their Divine Pattern, lie was called aNazarene,
and there was the scorn of a world couched in the con-
temptuous word.

There are symptoms, however, of returning sanity.
Judicial ermine and archiepiscopal lawn robing the sons
of tradesmen, and the blood of all the Montmorencies —

gjj^ TIIK I'lloI'llCT OK lIOKKn,

louU-a l.y vumlliancc with cnme-cooling itself in a
,,„„,„„ i.,i.on, arc rcua.kul.lo .ig.m of the timen
Men uro b.gin.iing to feci conHcious, nut, pcrhnpa, that
they huvo ccui.uitted u criuic, but that they have been
.uilty of wh.it i.i the aii.h..nucy of Tulloyrund ww con-
'idoml wo..e-thut i., u bhnuler. Wliether the chivalry
of femlulisMi be extinct or not, there can be no <iuc8t.ou
thut the villcnago uf feudali.ui i. gone. Common men
nowadays (luestion the wisdom of nobilities, correct the
errors of cabinets, and do not even listen obsequiously
to catch the whimper, of kingH. Tiuit is a strong and
growing world-feeling which the poet embodies wlien

ho feingti:

" Believe u» ! noble Vcic de Voroo,

I'lOiii yon blue lii'iiveus ubovo um bent,
The gnm.l old ganlonor ftnd liU wile

biiiilu ut tlie claims of long .li'Hcont.
llowu'er it bo, it aeenis to mo

'Tis only noble to be good-
Kind hearts are more ihau coronets.

And simple faith than Norniau blood."

•.;t

!•' t

Not that rank has lost its prestige, nor royalty its
honor. Elevated station is a high tru^t, and furnishes
opportunity for extensive nsefulness. The coronet may
be honored or despised at the pleasure of the wearer.
When the rank is larger than the mtm, when Ins indi-
viduality is shrouded behind a hundred coats-of-arms,
xvhen he has so much of the blood of his ancestors m
Lis veins that there is no room for any generous pu.ses

3F HOIIKD,

;iunc— cooling itself in a
[il)lo Bigni* of the timcH.
iisciouH, not, pcrhnpH, that
, but that thoy huvo been
L-y of Talloyrund wtw cou-
lor. Wlicther the chivalry
, there can be no qucbtion
III irt gone. Conunon men
HI of nobilities, correct tlio
t oven liBten obsequiouBly
igB. That ia n strong and
I the poet embodies when

re (U> ViToo,
iveiw uliove ua bent,
ncr ftud liU w'l'o
1 of long ili'Hccnt.
ns to mo
be good-
El ihttu colonels,
hall Norniau blood."

It\^ UKIC AND nV r.KHbONH.

au.')

>•' t

its prestige, nor royalty its
a high trust, and furnishes
iel'ulnesB. The coronet may
the pleasure of the wearer,
lan the man, when hiti indi-
id a hundred coats-of-arms,
he blood of his ancestors in
)om for any generous pu.ses

uf his owii, wliy, of courne, lie ninst find IiIh own level,
and I"' content to be udniired, like any other jiicce of
confectionery, by occiitsionul pa.^rtt'is-by ; but when tlio
noblo remembers his humanity, ami has sympathy for
the erring and encouragc/nont for the Bincere —

" Wlicn, all tlio trappings freely swept awiiy,
The niun'g grciit nature leaps Into the dny,"

Aw nobility men arc not slow to acknowledge— the cap
and plumo bond very gracefully over the sorrow which
they succor, and the jewelled hand is blanched into
a lieavenlier whiteness when it beckons a struggling
people into the jiower and progress of the coming time.
The great (question which must be asked of any new
aspirer who would mold the world's activities to hia
will, is not. Whence comes he? but, "What is he?
There may be sojno semi-fosailized relics of the past
who will continue to insinuate, "lias he a grand-
father?" But the great world of the earnest and of
the workers thunders out, " lias he a soul f lias he
a lofty purpose, a single eye, a heart of power? Has
he the prophet's sanctity and inspiration, as well as hia
boldness and fervor ? Kever mind the bar sinister on
his escutcheon— has ho uo bar sinister in his life ? Has
he a giant's strength, a hero's courage, a child's simpli-
city, an apostle's love, a martyr's will? Then is he
sufficiently ennobled." If I, a Gospel charioteer, meet
him as he essays, trembling, to drive into the world,
what must be my salutation ? Art thou of noble blood \

30G

THE FKOPBET OF UOBEB

la thy retinuo large ? thy banner riclily f nablazoned ?
thy speech phuisible ? thy purpose fair ? No — but " Is
thy heart right ?" If it be, give me thy hand.

A promiuent feature in the Prophet's character, one
whicli cannot fail to impress us at every mention of his
name, is his singular devotion to the object of his great
mission. Ho was sent upon the earth to be the earth's
monitor of God. This was his life-purpose, and faith-
fully he fulfilled it. Rising above the temptations of
sense — ready at the bidding of his Master to crucify
natural affection — sternly repressing the sensibility
which might interfere with duty; trampling upon
worldly interest, and regardless of personal aggrandize-
ment or safety, he held on his course, unswerving and
untired, to the end. God was his object in everything ;
to glorify God, his aim ; to vindicate God, his miracles ;
to speak for God, his message ; to exhibit God, his life.
As the rod of Moses swallowed up the symbols of
Egyptian wizardry, so did this consuming passion in
Elijah absorb each meaner impulse, and each low de-
sire. His decision rarely failed him, his consistency
never. He "halted not between two opinions." He
spurned alike the adulation of a monarch and of a mob.
He neither pandered for the favor of a court, nor made
unworthy compromise with the idolaters of Baal.
Heaven's high remembrancei", he did a true man's
work in a true man's way, with one purpose and a
"united" heart. r jua iiiuiiii;=«' i-

Although many parts of this character cannot, on

f HOKKB

iiiex* riclily emblazoned?
)0B0 fair ? No — but " Is
^e me thy hand.
Prophet's character, one
I at every mention of his

to the object of his great
10 earth to be the earth's
8 life-purpose, and faith-
ibove the temptations of
of his Master to crucify
pressing the sensibility

duty ; trampling upon
s of personal aggrandize-
', course, unswerving and
his object in everything;
idicate God, his miracles ;
; to exhibit God, his life,
wed up the symbols of
is consuming passion in
npulse, and each low de-
led him, his consistency
,'een two opinions." lie
a monarch and of a mob.
ivor of a court, nor made

the idolaters of Baal,
r, he did a true man's
with one purpose and a

his character cannot, on

UI3 LIFIC AND ITS LESSONS.

307

account of his peculiar vocation, be presented for our
imitation, in his unity of purpose and of clibrt he fiir-
nish(j8 us with a noble example. This oneness of prin-
ciple — freedom from tortuous policy — the direction of
the energies to the attainment of one worthy end —
appears to be what is meant in Scripture by the " single
eye," dnXovg — not complex — no obliquity in the vision
— looking straight on — taking in one object at one time.
And if we look into the lives of the men who have vin-
dicated their right to be held in the world's memory,
we shall find that all their actions evolve from one com-
prehensive principle, and converge to one magnificent
achievement. Consider the primitive apostles. There
you have twelve men, greatly diverse in character,
cherishing each his own taste and mode of working,
laboring in dift'erent localities, and bringing the one
Gospel to bear upon different classes of mind, and yet
everywhere— in proud Jerusalem, inquisitive Ephesus,
cultured Athens, voluptuous Eome — meeting after many
years in that mightiest result, the establishment of the
kingdom of Christ. Much of this issue is of course due
to the Gospel itself, or rather to the Divine agency
which applied it, but something also to the unity of
the messengers, their sincere pui"pose, and sustained
endeavor. And so it is in the case of all who have
been the beneftictors of mankind. They have had
some master-purpose, which has molded all others into
a beautiful subordination, which they have maintained
amid hazard and suffering, and which, shrined sacredly

308

THE PKOPHKT OF IIOEEB,

in the heart, lias influenced and fashioned the life. K
a man allow within him the play of diiferent or con-
tradictory purposes, he may, in a lifetime, pile up a
head of gold, a breast of silver, thighs of brass, and
feet of clay, but it is but a great image after all. It
crumbles at the first touch of the smiting stone, and,
like the chaflf of the summer threshing-floor, its frag-
ments are helpless on the wind. Tf, on the other hand,
a man's doings grow out of one and the same spirit,
and that spirit be consecrated to holy endeavor, they
will interpenetrate and combine into beneficent achieve-
ment, and stand out a life-giving and harmonious whole.
This oneness of design for which we contend, is distinct-
ive of the highest developments of the whole fiimily of
genius. A book may run through many editions, and
fascinate many reviewers, but it nmst be informed by
one spirit, new correspondences must be revealed to the
sesthetic eye, and it must appear " in the serene com-
pleteness of artistic unity," ere it can settle down to be
a household word in the family, or a hidden treasure in
the heart. In whatever department " the beauty-mak-
ii)"- Power" has wrought — in the bodiless thought, or
in the breathing marble ; in the chef-d'oeuvres of the
artist, or in the conceptions of the architect ; whether
Praxiteles chisels, Rafl'aelle paints, Shakspeare deline-
ates, or Milton sings— there is the same singleness of
the animating spirit. Hamlet, Paradise Lost, and Fes-
tu8 ; the Greek Slave, and the Madonna ; the Coliseum
and Westminster Abbey ; are they not, each in its kind,

P HOREB.

i fashioned the life. If
play of (liiferent or con-
iii a lifetime, pile up a
-er, thighs of brass, and
reat image after all. It
:' the smiting stone, and,

threshing-floor, its frag-
1. Tf, on the other hand,
one and the same spirit,
i to lioly endeavor, they
lO into beneficent achieve-
ig and harmonious whole,
ch we contend, is distinct-
its of the whole fiimily of
rough many editions, and

it must be informed by
3S must be revealed to the
pear " in the serene com-
e it can settle down to be
ly, or a hidden treasure in
irtment " the beauty-mak-
i the bodiless thought, or
. the chef-d'onuwes of the
of the architect ; whether
paints, Shakspcare deline-
is the same singleness of
Bt, Paradise Lost, and Fes-
e Madonna ; the Coliseum
I they not, each in its kind,

Hia UrR AND ITS LESSONS.

30i)

creations to which nothing can be added with advan-
tage, and from whicli, without diiniago, nothing can be
taken away ?

And of that other Book — our highest literature, as
well as our unerring la.v — the glorious, world-subduing
Bible, do we not feel the same ? In its case the
experiment has been tried. The Apocryphal has been
bound up with the Inspired, like "wood, hay, and
stubble," loading the rich fret-work of a stately pile, or
the clumsy work of an apprentice superadded to the
finish of a master. Doubtless instruction may bo
gathered from it, but how it " pales its ineftectual fires"
before the splendor of the "Word 1 It is unfortunate for
it that they have been brought into contact. Wo
migiit be grateful for the gas-lamp at eventide, but it
were grievous folly to light it up at noon. As in
science, literature, art, so it is in character. We can
wrap up in a word the object of " the world's foster
gods ;" to bear witness for Jehovah — to extend Christ-
ianity—to disinter the tnith for Europe — to "spread
Scriptural holuiess" — to humanize prison discipline — to
abolish slaver^'— these are soon told ; but if you unfold
each word, you have the life-labor of Elijah, Paul,
Luther, Wesley, Howard, Wilberforce— the inner mail
of each heart laid open, with its hopes, joys, fears,
anxieties, ventures, faiths, conflicts, triumphs, iu the
long i-ound of weary and of wasting years.
"*^ Look at this oneness of principle embodied in action.
See it in Martin Luther. He lias a purpose, that miner's

310

THE PEOPHKT OF HOBKB,

son. That purpose is the acquisition of knowledge,
lie exhausts speedily the resources of Mansfield ; reads
hard, and devours the lectures at Madgeburg; chants
in the hours of recreation, like the old Minnesingers, in
streets, for bread; sits at the feet of Trebonius in the
college at Eisenach; enters as a student at Erfurt, and
at the age of eighteen, has outstripped his fellows, has a
University for his admirer, and professors predicting for
him the most successful career of the age. Jle has a
jpurpose, that Scholar of Erfurt. Tliat purpose is the
discovery of truth, for in the old library he has stumbled
on a Bible. Follow him out into the new world which
that volume has flashed upon his soul. With Pilate's
question on his lip and in his heart, he foregoes his bril-
liant prospect— parts without a sigh with academical
distinction— takes monastic vows in an Augustine con-
ycnt— becomes the watchman and sweeper of the
place— goes a mendicant friar, with the convent's
begging-bag, to the houses where ho had been wel-
comed as a friend, or had starred it as a lion— wastes
himself with voluntary penances well-nigh to the
grave— studies the Fathers intensely, but can get no
light— pores over the Book itself, with scales upon his
eyes— catches a dim streak of auroral brightness, but
leaves Erfurt before the glorious dawn— until at last, in
his cell at "Wittemberg, on his bed of languishing at
Bologna, and finally at Eorae— Pilate's question an-
swered upon Pilate's stairs— there comes the thriee-
repeated Gospel-whisper, "The just shall live by faith,"

ni3 UF£ AND ITS LUSSONS.

>K HOBKB,

cqnisition of knowledge.
urccs of Mansfield ; reads
js at Madgeburg; cliants
s the old Minnesingers, in

feet of Trebonius in the
5 a student at Erfurt, and
tstripped Lis fellows, has a
d professors predicting for
;er of the age. He haa a
\irt. That purpose is the
)ld library he has stumbled

into the new world which
n his soul. "With Pilate's

heart, he foregoes his bril-
it a sigh with academical
?ows in an Augustine con-
lan and sweeper of the
friar, with the convent's

where ho had been wel-
;arred it as a lion — wastes
snances well-nigb to the

intensely, but can get no
itself, with scales upon his

of auroral brightness, but
•ious dawn — until at last, in

his bed of languishing at
ome — Pilate's question an-
s — there comes the thrice-
Che just shall live by faith,"

311

and the glad Evangel scatters the darkening and shreds
off the paralysis, and ho rises into moral freedom, a new
man unto the Lord 1 ITe has ajmi^ose, that Augustine
monk. That purpose is the Reformation I Waiting
with the modesty of the hero, until ho is forced into the
strife, with the courage of the hero he steps into the
breach to do battle for tlie living truth. Tardy in
forming his resolve, he is bravo in his adhesion to it.
Not like Erasmus, " holding the truth in unrighteous-
ness," with a clear head and a craven heart — not like
Carlstadt, hanging upon a grand principle the tatters
of a petty vanity^-not like Seckingen, a wielder of car-
nal weapons, clad in glowing mail, instead of the armor
of righteousness and the weapon of all prayer — but
bold, disinterested, spiritual — he stands before us God-
prepared and God-upheld — that valiant Luther, who, in
his opening prime, amazed the Cardinal de Vio by his
fearless avowal, " Had I five heads I would lose them
all rather than retract the testimony which I have
borne for Christ" — that incorruptible Luther, whom the
Pope's nuncio tried in vain to bribe, and of whom he
wrote in his spleen : " This German beast has no regard
for gold " — that inflexible Luther, who, when told that
the fate of John Huss would probably await him at
Worms, said calmly, " Were they to make a fire that
would extend from Worms to Wittemberg, and reach
even to the sky, I would walk across it in the name of
the Lord" — that triumphant Luther, who, in his
honored age, sat in the cool shadow and 'mid the

312

TUB PROPHET OF HOEEB,

puiTlc vintage of the tree himself had planted, and
aftor a stormful Bojourn, Bcaped the toils of the hunters,
and died peacefully in his bed-that undying Luther,
» who, being dead, yet speaketh," the mention ot whose
name rouses the ardor of the manly, and quickens the
pulses of the free ; whoso spirit yet stirs, like a clanon,
the great heart of Christendom; and whose very bones
have so marvellous a virtue, that, like the bones of
Elisha, if on them were stretched the corpse of an effete
Protestantism, they would surely wake it into hfe to the
honor and glory of God 1

But we must not forget, as wo are in some danger ot
doing, that we must draw our illustrations mainly from
the life of Elijah. We have before affirmed that unity
of purpose and consistency of effort were leading
features in his character, but look at them in action,
especially as displayed in the great scene of Carmel
Call up that scene before you, with all its adjuncts of
grandeur and of power. The summit of the fertile
hill, meet theatre for so glorious a tragedy ; the idola-
trous priests, with all the pompous ensigns of then- idol-
worship, confronted by that solitary but princely man-
the gathered and anxious multitude-the deep silence
following on the. prophet's question-the appeal to fire
-the protracted invocation of Baal-the useless nncan-
tations and barbaric rites, « from morning even until
noon, and from noon until the time of the offering of
the evening sacrifice;" the solemn sarcasm of Elijali ;
the building of the altai- of unfurnished stone-the

(T HOBEB,

imself bad planted, and
I tlio toils of the hunters,
jd— that undying Luther,
h," the mention of whose
manly, and quickens the
t yet stirs, like a clarion,
a ; and whose very bones
that, like the bones of
led the corpse of an effete
ely wake it into life to the

we are in some danger of

• illustrations mainly from
before affirmed that unity
T of effort were leading
t look at them in action,
10 great scene of Carmel.
)U, with all its adjuncts of
'ho summit of the fertile
rious a tragedy ; the idola-
npous ensigns of their idol-
lolitary but princely man—
aultitude— the deep silence
question— the appeal to fire
of Baal— the useless -incan-

• from morning even until
the time of the offering of
solemn sarcasm of Elijali ;
of unfurnished stone— the

ni3 LIFE AND ITS LESSONS.

313

drenching and surrounding it with water, strangest of
all strange preparations for a burnt-sacrilice — the sky
reddening as if it blunhed at the fully of the priests of
I}.,al — the Buu sloping slowly to the west, and falling
p \ant upon the palefaces of that unwcary multitude,
rapt in fixed attention, patient, stern, unhungering— the
high accents of holy prayer — the solemn pause, agon-
izing from its depth of feeling — the falling flame, " a
fire of intelligence and power" — the consuming of all
the materials of the testimony — and that mighty
triumph-shout, rolling along the plain of Sharon,
waking the echoes of the responsive mountains, and
thrilling over the sea with an eloquence grander than
its own ; there it stands — that scene in its cntireness —
most wonderful even in a history of wonders, and one
of the most magnificent and conclusive forthputtings of
Jehovah's power 1 But abstract your contemplations
now from the miraculous interposition, and look at the
chief actor in the scene. How calm he is ! How still
amid that swaying multitude! They, agitated by a
thousand emotions— he, self-reliant, patient, brave!
Priests mad with malice — people wild in wondei- — an
ominous frown darkening the royal brow — ^Elijah alone
unmoved ! Whence this self-possession ? "What occult
principle so mightily sustains him? There was, of
course, unfaltering dependence upon God. But there
was also the consciousness of integrity of purpose, and
of a heart " at one." There was no recreancy in the
Boul. He had not been the passive observer, nor the

814

TUE PROniET OF IIOREB,

guilty contiivcr at sin. IIo had not troddei softly, leat
he rihould shock Aluih's prejudices or disturb hia repose.
He had not shared in the carnivals of Jezebel's table.
He had not preserved a dastardly nentraUty. Every
one knew him to be " on the Lord's side." His heart
was always in tune ; like Memnon's harp, it trembled
into melody at every breath of heaven.

With these examples before ns, it behooves us to ask
ourselves, Have xoe a purpose f Elijah and Luther may
be marks too high for ns. Do not let ns affect knight-
errantry, couch the lance at wind-mills to prove our
valor, or mistake saucincss for sanctity, and impudence
for inspiration. It is not probable that our mission is
to beard unfaithful royalties, or to pull down the
edifices which arc festooned with the associations of
centuries. But in the sphere of each of us— in the
marts of commerce, in the looms of labor— while the
snn is climbing hotly up the sky, and the race of
human pursuits and competitions is going vigorously
on, there is work enough for the sincere and honest
workman. The sphere for personal improvement was
never so large. To brace the body for service or for
suffering- to bring it into subjection to the control of
the master-faculty— to acquaint the mind with all
wisdom— to hoard, with miser's care, every fragment
of beneficial knowledge— to twine the beautiful around
the true, as the acanthus leaf around the Corinthian
pillar— to quell the sinward propensities of the nature
—to evolve the soul into the completeness of its moral

F IIOREB,

,d not troddei softly, lest
ices or disturb his repose,
•nivals of Jezebel's table,
ardly nentraUty. Every

Lord's side." His heart
mnon's harp, it trembled

heaven.

ns, it behooves us to ask
' Elijah and Luther may
i not let \i8 affect knight-
wind-mills to prove our
• sanctity, and impudence
bablo that our mission is
s, or to pull down the
with the associations of
re of each of us — in the
>om8 of labor — while the
ic sky, and the race of
itions is going vigorously
r the sincere and honest
(crsonal improvement was
[le body for service or for
bjection to the control of
laint the mind with all
er's care, every fragment
wine the beautiful around
af around the Corinthian

propensities of the nature

completeness of itB moral

HIS LIFE AND ITS LliSSOMS.

816

manhood — to have the passions in harness, and firmly
curb them — " to bear the imago of tiic heavenly " — to
strive after " tliat mind which was also in Cliriht Jesus"
— here is a field of labor wide enough for the most
resolute will, 'i'lio sphere of beneficent activity was
never so large. To infuse the leaven of purity into the
disordered masses — to thaw the death-frost from the
heart of the misanthrope — to make the treacherous one
faithful to duty — to open the world's dim eye to the
majesty of conscience — to gather and instruct the or-
})han8 bereft of a father's blessing and of a mother's
prayer — to care for the outcast and abandoned, who
have drunk in iniquity with their mother's milk, whona
the priest and the Levite have alike passed by, and who
have been forced in the hotbed of poverty into prema-
ture luxuriance of evil ; here is labor, which may
employ a man's whole lifetime, and his whole soul.
Young men, are you working ? Have you gone forth
into the harvest-field bearing precious seed? Alas!
perhaps some of you are yet resting in the conven-
tional, that painted charnel which has tombed many a
manhood; grasping eagerly your own social advan-
tages ; gyved by a dishonest expediency ; not doing a
good lest it should be evil spoken of, nor daring a faith
lest the scoffer should frown. With two worlds to
work in— the world of the heart, with its many-phased
und wondrous life, and the world around, with its
problems waiting for solution, and its contradictions
panting for the harmonizer— you are, perhaps, en-

816

THE rilOrilKT OK IIORKB,

chained in tho island of Calypso, tlirr.Ued by its
blandishments, cniasculutcd by its enervating air. O,
tor Bomo strong-armed Mentor to tlmist you over tho
cliff, and strain Avith you among tho buffeting waves 1
Brothers, let us be men. Let us bravely fling oif our
chains. If wc can not bo commanding, let us at least
be sincere. Let our earnestness amend our incapacity.
Let ours not be a lifo of puerile inanities or obsequious
Mamnion-worship. Let us look through tho pliant
neutral in his hoUowncss, and the churlish miser in his
greed, and Ki us go and do otherwise than they. Let
us not be higrates while Heaven is generous, idlers
while earth is active, slumberers while eternity is near.
Lot us have a purpose, and let that purpose bo one.
Without a central principle all will bo in disorder.
Ithaca is misgoverned, Penelope beset by clamorous
suitors, Telemachus in peril, all because Ulysses is
away. Let the Ulysses of the soul return, let the
governing principle exert its legitimate authority, and
the happy suitors of appetite and sense shall bo slain —
the heart, married to the truth, shall retain its fidelity
to its bridalvow, and the eldest-born, a purpose of
valor and of wisdom, shall carve its highway to renown,
and achieve its deeds of glory. Aim at this singleness
of eye. Abhor a lifo of self-contradictions, as a
grievous wrong done to an immortal nature. And
thus, having a purpose — one purpose — a worthy pur-
pose — you cannot toil in vain. Work in the inner — it
will tell upon the outer world. Purify your own heart

IK IIORKB,

Calypso, thrr.llcd by its
y its enervating air. O,
• to tlmist you over tho
ong the butfcting waves !
t us bravely fling oif our
nmanding, let us at least
iS9 amend our incapacity.
ilo inanities or obsequious
look through tho pliant
i the churlish miser in his
thcrwiso than they. Let
cavcn is generous, idlers
crs while eternity is near,
let that purpose bo one.
all will be in disorder,
ilopo beset by clamorous
1, all because Ulysses is
the soul return, let the
I legitimate authority, and
and sense shall be slain —
th, shall retain its fidelity
eldest-born, a purpose of
rvo its highway to renown,
•y. Aim at this singleness
self-contradictions, as a
immortal nature. And
e purpose — a worthy pur-
in. "Work in the inner — it
d. Purify your own heart

UIS LIKK AND IIS I.KSSONS.

— you will have a reformative power on tho lu'ighbor-
hood. Shrine tho truth within- it will attract many
pilgriuirt. Kindle tho vestal iiru — it will ray out a lil'e-
giviug light. ILivo the mastiTy over your t)\vn spirit —
you will go far to be a workl-subdiier. Oh, if there bo
one hero whowould up lit't hinifjelf ov advaneo his
fellows, who would do his brother "a good which shall
live after him," or enroll himself among the bene-
factors of mankind, to him we say. Cast out of thyself
all that loveth and makcth a lie — hate every false way
— set a worthy object belbre thee — work at it with both
liands, an open heart, an earnest will, and a firm faith,
and then go on —

' ' "Onward, wliile a wrong rcmiiiiis

To bo conquered by the right,
Wliile Oppression lifw a finger
, , To uiri'ont us by his might.

While an error clouds the reason,
' ' Or a sorrow gnaws the hciirt,

'•■,: I'l',- .'*' Or a slave awaits his freedom,

.,,'i,r,| " Action is tho wise man's part!"

Tlic Prophet's consistency of purpose, his calmness In
the time of danger, and his marvellous success, require,
however, some further explanation, and that explanation
is to be found in the fact that he was a man of prayer.
Prayer w-as the forerunner of his every action — tho
grace of supplication prepared him for his mightiest
deeds. Whatevei' was his object — to seal or to open the
fountains of heaven — to evoke tho obedient fire on Car-

31H

TUB I'liornCT ov iiorku,

incl— to h1k>(1 joy over tlio bfreft houselioUl of tl,o
Saivi.tim willow— to briiiK down " tbrk« oflUimo" ui.un
the ciipttiiuH and tlu>ir lift ion— there wuh abvuys the
Boleiun and the earnest prayer. Tishhe, Zurophiith,
Carniel, Jezrool, (Jilj^al— he had hU oratory in lliem all.
And herein lay the Ki'c-ret of his btrength. The nionn
tain-elonet endioldened him for the niountuin-ultar.
Whih5 the winged hirdrt were providing for hia body, the
winged prayers were strengthening his Boul. In answer
to his entreaties in secret, the whole armor of God waa
at his service, and ho bncklcd the breastplate, ond
braced the girdle, and strapped on the Ban<lals, and
stepped ft>rth from hi.s elortet a hero, and men knew that
lie had been in Jehovah's i)re8ence-ehambcr from tho
glory which lingered on his brow.

Kow, as man is to be contemplated, not only in re-
ference to time, but in reference to eternity, this habit
of prayer is necessary to the completeness of his charac-
ter. If tho present were liis all— if his life were to shape
itself only amid surrounding complexities of good or
evil— if he had merely to impress his individuality upon
his a"o, and then die and be forgotten, or in tho veiled
future have no living and conscious concern; tlien, m-
deed, self-conlidenee might be hii* highest virtue, self-
will his absolute law, self-aggrandizement his supremest
end. lUit as, beyond the present, there lies, in all its
solenmess, eternity ; as the world to which wo arc all
hastening, ib a world of result, discovery, fruition, recom-
pense ; as au impartial register chronicles our lives, that

r IIOBKU,

HIS LITR AND ITS LK8SON8.

810

jorc'ft liuuaelioUl of tl o
u " tVtrku of Huino " \%\><Jii
— tliero wiiH uln-iiyi* the
or. Ti8hl)0, Zuroi>liiitli,
(I hlri oratory in them ivU.
is btrength. Tlio iiiotin
for llio luountuin-ultiir.
rovidiiig for his l>oily, the
ninfi; his Boul. In answer
whole armor of God was
led the breawtplato, ond
led on the eandals, and
hero, and men knew that
•oscnee-chanibcr from tho

UW. . ' .'•'' ' <■ ■'

omi)hvted, not only in rc-
ico to eternity, this habit
ompleteness of his eharac-
l — if his life were to shape
complexities of good or
rcss his individuality upon
forgotten, or in tho veiled
iscious concern ; then, in-
to his liighest virtue, fielf-
randizenicnt his supremest
cseiit, there lies, in all its
■orld to which wo arc all
discovery, fruition, recom-
r chronicles our lives, that

a righteous retribution may follow, our dojicndenco
upon God must bo felt and recognized, and tlii-re must
bo pomo medium through which to receive tho com-
municfttioriH of his will. This medium is furnished to
US ill prayer. It has been ordained by himself as a
condition of strength and blessing, and all who are under
liis authority are under binding obligations to pray.

Young men, you have been exhorted to aspire. Self-
reliance has been conmiendcd to you as a grand element
of character. Wo would echo these counsels. They
arc counsels of wisdom. But to bo safe and to bo per-
fect, you must connect with them the spirit of prayer.
Emulation, unchastcr.ed by any higher princii)le, is to
our perverted nature very often a danger and an evil.
Tho love of distinction, not of truth and right, becomes
tho master-pnssion of the soul, and instead of high-reach-
ing labor after good, there .comes Vanity with its paro-
dies of excellence, or mad Ambition shrinking from no
enormity in its oipidity or lust of power. Self-reliance,
in a heart unsanctified, often gives place to Self-conli-
dence, its base-born brother. Under its unfriendly rulo
there rise up in the soul over-weening estimate of self,
inveteracy of evil habit, impatience of restraint or con-
trol, tho disposition to lord it over others, and that
dogged and repulsive obstinacy, which, like the dead
fly in the ointment, throws an ill savor over the entiro
character of the man. These are smaller manifestations,
bnt, in congenial soil, and with commensurate oppor-
tunities, it blossoms out into some of the worst forms of

320

THE PBOPUKT OK HOBKB,

humanity-the ruffian, who is the terror of his neighbor-
hood; the tyrant, who has an appetite for blood; the
atheist, who denies his God. Now, the habit of prayer
will afford to these principles the salutary check which
they need. It will sanctify emulation, and make it a
virtue to aspire. It will curb the excesses of ambition,
and keep down the vauntings of unholy pride. The
man will aim at the highest, but in the spirit of the
lowest, and prompted by the thought of immortahty-
not the loose immortality of the poet's dream, but the
substantial immortality of the Christian's hope-he will
travel on to his reward. In like manner will the habit
of prayer chasten and consecrate the principle of self-
reliance. It will preserve, intact, all its enterprise and
bravery. It will bate not a jot of its original strength
and freedom, but, when it would wanton out into mso-
lence and pride, it will restrain it by the consciousness
of a higher power ; it will shed over the man the meek-
ness and gentleness of Christ, and it will show, existing
in the same nature and in completest harmony, indomit-
able courage in the arena of the world, and loyal sub-
mission to the authority of Heaven. Many noble
examples have attested how this inner life of heaven-
combining the heroic and the gentle, softening without
enfeebling the character, preparing either for action or
endurance -has shed its power over the outer life of
earth. How commanding is the attitude of Paul from
the time of his conversion to the truth 1 What courage
he has, encountering the Epicurean and Stoical philoso-

OP HOBKB,

the terror of his neighbor-
n appetite for blood ; the
Now, the habit of prayer
the salutary check which
emulation, and make it a
) the excesses of ambition,
gs of unholy pride. The
t, but in the spirit of the
I thought of immortality—
the poet's dream, but the
Christian's hope— he will
like manner will the habit
icrate the principle of self-
utact, all its enterprise and
jot of its original strength
rould wanton out into inso-
■ain it by the consciousness
led over the man the meek-
t, and it will show, existing
)mpletest harmony, indomit-
)f the world, and loyal sub-
of Heaven. Many noble
r this inner life of heaven —
lie gentle, softening without
•eparing either for action or
awer over the outer life of
is the attitude of Paul from
o the truth 1 What courage
picurean and Stoical philoso-

HI8 LIFE AND ITS LESSONS.

821

pliers, revealing the unknown God to tlie multitude at
Athens, making the false-hearted Felix tremble, and
almost constraining the pliable Agrippa to decision;
standing, silver-haired and solitary, before the bar of
Nero ; dying a martyr for the loved name of Jesus ! —
that heroism was born in the solitude where he im-
portunately " bcBuught the Lord." " In Luther's closet,"
says D'Aubign6, " we have the secret of the Eeforma-
tion." Tlie Puritans — those " men of whom the world
was not worthy" — to whom wo owe immense, but
scantily-acknowledged, obligations — how kept they their
fidelity ? Tracked through wood and wild, the baying
of the fierce sleuth-hound breaking often upon their
sequestered worship, their prayer was the talisman
which " stopped the mouths of lions, and quenched the
violence of tiro." You cannot have forgotten liow
exquisitely the efficacy of prayer is presented in our
second book of Proverbs :

" Behold that fragile form of delicate, transparent beauty,
Whose light-blue eye and hectic cheek are lit by the bale-fires of

decline ;
Hath not thy heart suid of her, Alas! poor child of weakness !
Thou haat erred ; Goliath of Gath stood not in half her strength :
For the serried ranks of evil are routed by the lightning of her eye ;
Serapl Im rally at her side, and the captain of that host is God,
For that weak, fluttering heart is strong in faith assured-
Dependence is her might, and behold — she praycth." *

Desolate, indeed, is the spirit, like the hills of Gilboa,

• Tnppor'3 "Proverbial Philosophy," of Prayer, p. 109.
14*

322

THE PBOPHET OF HOBEB,

reft of the precious things of heaven, if it never prays.
Do you pray? Is the fire burning upon that secret
altar ? Do you go to the closet as a duty ? linger m it
as a privilege? What is that you say? There is a
Bcoffer in the same place of business with you, and he
tells you it is cowardly to bow the knee, and he jeers
you about being kept in leading-strings, and urges you
to avow your manliness, and as ho is your room-mate,
you have been ashamed to pray before him; and,
moreover, he seems so cheerful, and resolute, and brave,
that his words have made some impression? What I
he brave ? He who gave up the journey the other day
because he lucklessly discovered it was Friday; he who
lost his self-possession at the party because "the salt
was spilt— to lum it fell ;" he who, whenever friends
solicit and the tempter plies, is afraid to say no; he
who dares not for his life look into his own heart, for he
fancies it a haunted house, with goblins perched ou
every landing to pale the cheek and blench the
courage ; he a brave man ? Oh I to your knees, young
man ;*'to your knees, that the cowardice may be for-
given and forgotten. There is no bravery in blas-
phemy, there is no dastardUness in godly fear. It is
prayer which strengthens the weak, and makes the
strong man stronger. Happy are you, if it is your
liabit and your privilege. You can offer it anywhere.
In the crowded mart or busy street; flying along the
gleaming line ; saiUng upon the wide waters ; out in the
broad world ; in the strife of sentiment and passion; in

r OF BOREB,

f heaven, if it never prays.
I burning upon that secret
loset as a duty ? linger in it
that you say? There is a
if business with you, and he
bow the knee, and he jeers
ading-strings, and urges you
ind as ho is your room-mate,
to pray before him; and,
irful, and resolute, and brave,
} some impression? What I
ap the journey the other day
,vered it was Friday; he who
the party because " the salt
" he who, whenever friends
lies, is afraid to say no; he
ook into his own heart, for he
se, with goblins perched on
the cheek and blench the
? Oh I to your knees, young
; the cowardice may be for-
Lere is no bravery in blas-
rdliness in godly fear. It is
i the weak, and makes the
appy are you, if it is your
You can offer it anywhere,
busy street ; flying along the
an the wide waters ; out in the
I of sentiment and passion ; in

nra LIFE AND rrs lessons.

S23

the whirlwind of battle ; at the festival and at tho
funeral ; if the frost braces the spirit or the fog
depresses it ; if the clouds are heavy on the earth, or
the sunshine fills it with laughter ; when the dew is
damp upon the grass, or when the lightning flashes in
the sky; in the matins of sunrise or the vespers of
nightfall ; let but the occasion demand it, let the need
be felt, let the soul be imperilled, let the enemy threaten,
happy arc you, for you can pray.

We learn from the prophet's history that Gocfs dis-
cipline for usefulness is frequently a diisipline of
trouble. His enforced banishment to the brook Cherith ;
his struggles in that solitude, with the unbelief which
would fear for the daily sustenance, and with the sel-
fishness which would fret and pine for the activities of
life ; Ahab's bloodthirsty and eager search for him, of
which he would not fail to hear ; Jezebel's subsequent
and bitterer persecution ; the apparent failure of his
endeavors for the reformation of Israel ; the forty days'
fasting in the wilderness of Horeb — all these were
parts of one grand disciplinary process, by which he
was made ready for the Lord, fitted for the triumph on
Carmel,for the still voice on the mountain, and for the
ultimate occupancy of the chariot of fire. It is a bene-
ficent arrangement of Providence, that " the divinity
which shapes our ends " Aveaves our sorrows into ele-
ments of character, and that all the disappointments and
conflicts to which the living are subject — the afflictions,
physical and mental, personal and relative, which are

824

THE rUOPUKT OF HOEEB.

the common lot-may, rightly used, hecomo means of
improvement, and create in us sinews of strength.
Trouble is a marvellous mortifier of pride, and an
effectual restruiner of self-will. Difficulties string up
the energies to loftier effort, and intensity is gamed
from repression. By sorrow the temper is meUowed,
and the feeling is refined. When suffering has broken
up the soil, and made the furrows soft, there can bo
implanted the hardy virtues which out-brave the storm.
In short, trial is God's glorious alchemistry, by which
the dross is left in the crucible, the baser metals are
transmuted, and the character is riched with the gold.
It would be easy to multiply examples of the singular
efficacy of trouble as a course of discipline. Look at
t)ie history of God's chosen people. A king arose in
Egypt "which knew not Joseph," and his harsh
tyranny drove the nebrews from their land of Goshen,
and made them tho serfs of an oppressive bondage.
The iron entered into their souls. For years they
remained in slavery, until in his own good time God
arose to their help, and brought them out "with a high
hand and with a strctched-out arm." We do not
mean, of all things, to make apologies for Pharaoh and
his task-masters, but we do mean to say that that bond-
age was, in many of its results, a blessing, and that the
Israelite, building the treasure-cities, and, perhaps, the
Pyramids, was a very different and a very superior
being to the Israelite, inexperienced and ease-loving,
who fed his flocks in Goshen. God overruled that cap-

OF HOEEB.

tly used, teromo means of
11 us sinews of strength,
iiortifier of pride, and an
vill. Difficulties string up
rt, and intensity is gained
w the temper is mellowed,
"When suffering has broken
furrows soft, there cau bo
i which out-brave the storm,
•ions alchemistry, by which
acible, the baser metals are
;ter is riched with the gold,
ly examples of the singular
urse of discipline. Look at
n people. A king arose in
t Joseph," and his harsh
s from their land of Goshen,

of an oppressive bondage,
eir souls. For years they

in his own good time God
)ught them out " with a high
led-out arm." Wo do not
ko apologies for Pharaoh and
? mean to say that that bond-
suits, a blessing, and that the
asure-cities, and, perhaps, the
ifferent and a very superior
experienced and ease-loving,
len. God overruled that cap-

HI8 LIFE AND ITS LESSONS.

89S

tivity, and made it the teacher of many important les-
sons. They had been hitherto a host of families ; they
were to be exalted into a nation. There was to be a
transition effected from the simplicity of the patriarchal
government and clanship to the superb theocracy of the
Levitical economy. Egypt was the school in which
they were to be trained for Canaan, and in Egypt they
were taught, although reluctant and indocile learners,
the forms of civil government, the theory of subordina-
tion and order, and the arts and habits of civilized life.
Hence, when God gave his laws on Sinai, those laws fell
upon the ears of a prepared people ; even in the desert
they could fabricate the trappings of the temple service,
and engrave the mystic characters upon the " gems
oracular" which flashed upon the breastplate of tho
High Priest of God. Tlie long exile in the wilderness
of Midian was the chastening by which Moses was
instructed, and the impetuosity of his temper mellowed
and subdued, so that he who, in his youthful hatred of
oppression, slew the Egyptian, became in his age the
meekest man, the much-enduring and patient lawgiver.
A very notable instance of the influence of difficulty and
failure in rousing the energies and carrying them on to
success, has been furnished in our own times. Of
course we refer to this case in this one aspect only,
altogether excluding any expression as to the merit or
demerit of the man. Tliere will probably be two
opinions about him, and those widely differing, in this
assembly. "We are not presenting him as an example,

326

THE PROPHET OF HOEBB,

but as an illustration— save in the matter of steady and
persevering purpose— and in this, if he be even an oppo-
nent, Fas est ab hoste docen.

In the year 1837, a young member, oriental alike in
his lineage and in his fancy, entered Parliament, chi-
valrously panting for distinction in that intellectual
arena. Ho was already known as a successful three-
volumcr, and his party were ready to hail him as a
promising auxiliary. Under these auspices he rose to
make his maiden speech. But he had made a grand
mistake. He had forgotten that the figures of St.
Stephen's are generally arithmetical, and that super-
fluity of words, except in certain cases, is regarded as
superfluity of naughtiness. He set out with the inten-
tion to dazzle, but country gentlemen object to be
dazzled, save on certain conditions. They must be
allowed to prepare themselves for the shock, they must
have due notice beforehand, and the operation must be
performed by an established parliamentary favorite.
In this case all these conditions were wanting. The
speaker was 9. ^parvenu. He took them by surprise,
and he pelted them with tropes like hail. Hence he
had not gone far before there were signs of impatience ;
by and by the ominous cry of " Question," then came
some parliamentary extravagance, met by derisive
cheers; cachinnatory symptoms began to develop them-
selves, until, at last, in the midst of an imposing sen-
tence, in which he had earned his audience to the
Vatican, and invested Lord John Russell with the

OF HOEEB,

L the matter of steady and
;hi8, if ho be even an oppo-

member, oriental alike in
, entered Parliament, chi-
ction in that intellectual
wn as a Buccessfiil three-
ready to hail him as a
these auspices he rose to
Jut he had made a grand
n that the figures of St.
limetical, and that super-
rtain cases, is regarded as
He set out with the inten-
r gentlemen object to be
onditions. They must be
B8 for the shock, they must
and the operation must be
ed parliamentary favorite,
itions were wanting. The
[e took them by surprise,
opes like hail. Hence he
e were signs of impatience ;
of " Question," then came
.ragance, met by derisive
jms began to develop thom-
midst of an imposing sen-
amed his audience to the
rd John Russell with the

HIS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS.

327

temporary custody of the keys of St. Peter, the mirth
grew fast and furious ; somnolent squires woke up and
joined in sympathy, and the house resounded with
irrepressible peals of laughter. Mortified and indig-
nant, the orator sat down, closing with these memorable
words : " I sit down now, but the time will come when
you will hear me 1" In the mortification of that night,
wo doubt not, was born a resolute working for the
fulfillment of those words. It was an arduous struggle.
There were titled claimants for renown among his com-
petitors, and he had to break down the exclusivism.
There was a suspicion of political adventuring at work,
and broadly circulated, and he had this to overcome.
Above all, he had to live down the remembrance of his
failure. But there was the consciousness of power, and
the fall which would have crushed the coward made
the brave man braver. Warily walking, and steadily
toiling, through the chance of years, seizing the oppor-
tunity as it came, and always biding his time, he
climbed upward to the distant summit, prejudice
melted like snow beneath his feet, and in 1852, fifteen
short years after his apparent annihilation, he was in
her Majesty's Privy Council, styling himself Right
Honorable, Chancellor of the Exchequer, and leader of
the British House of Commons.

Sirs, are there difficulties in your path, hindering
your pursuit of knowledge, restraining your benevolent
endeavor, making your spiritual life a contest and a
toil? Be thankful for them. They will test, your

823

THE PROPUKT OF HOREB,

capabilities of resistance. You will be impelled to
persevere Irom the very energy of the opposition. If
there bo any might in your soul, like the avalanche of
enow, it will require additional momentum from the
obstacles which threaten to impede it. Many a man
has thus robed himself in the spoils of a vanquished
diaiculty, and his conquests have accumulated at every
onward and upward step, until he has rested from his
labor— the successful athlete who has thrown tlio world.
"An unfortunate illustration," you are ready to say,
» for all cannot win the Olympic crown, nor wear the
Isthmian laurel. What of him who foils? IIow is he
recompensed? What does he gain ?" What? Why,
Stkengtu for Life. His training has insured him that.
He will never forget the gymnasium and its lessons.
He will always be a stalwart man, a man of muscle
and of sinew. Tue real merit is not in tue success,
Bi'T IN THE ENDEAVOR, and, win or lose, he will be
honored and crowned.

It may be that the sphere of some of you is that of
endurance rather than of enterprise. You are not
called to aggress, but to resist. The power to work has
reached its limit for a while ; the power to wait must
be exerted. Tliere are periods in our history when
Providence shuts us up to the exercise of faith, when
patience and fortitude are more valuable than valor and
courage, and when any "further struggle would but
defeat our prospects and embarrass our aims." To
resist the powerful temptation ; to overcome tlie beset-

< 07 HOREB,

You will be impelled to
ergy of the opposition. If
soul, like the avalanche of
ional momentum from the
) impede it. Many a man
the spoils of a vanquished
have accumulated at every
mtil he has rested from his
) who has thrown tlio world,
on," you are ready to say,
lympic crown, nor wear the
him who foils? How is he
he gain?" What? Why,
raining has insured him that.
gymnasium and its lessons,
wart man, a man of muscle

ilERIT 19 NOT IN TUE SUCCKS8,

d, win or lose, he will be

:e of some of you is that of
I enterprise. You are not
sist. The power to work has
ile ; the power to wait must
)eriods in our history when
the exercise of faith, when
more valuable than valor and
'further struggle would but
embarrass our aims." To
tion ; to overcome tlie beset-

II IS i.iFK AND rrs I.EHSOSe.

32!)

ting sin ; to restrain the sudden iinpul8<s of anger ; to
keep sentinel over the door of the lips, and turn back
the biting sarcasm, and the word nnkind ; to be patient
under unmerited censure; amid opposing friends, and a
scoffing world, to keep the faith high and the purjiose
firm ; to ^vatch through murky night and howling storm
for the coming day ; in these cases, to be still is to be
brave ; what Burke has called a " masterly inactivity "
is our highest prowess, and quietude is the part of hero-
ism. There is a young man in business, battling with
some strong temptation, by which he is vigorously
assailed; he is solicited to engage in some unlawful
undertaking, with the prospect of immediate and lucra-
tive returns. Custom pleads prescription : " It is done
every day." Partiality suggests that so small a devia-
tion will never be regarded — "Is it not a little one?"
Interest reminds him that by his refusal his " craft will
be in danger." Compromise is sure that " when he
bows himself in the house of Rimmon, the Lord will
pardon his servant in this thing." All these fearful
voices are urging his compliance. But the Abdiel-
conscience triumphs — help is invoked where it can
never be invoked in vain, and he spurns the temptation
away. Is he not a hero ? Earth m.ay despise such a
victory, but he can afford that scorning when, on
account of him, " there is joy in heaven." Oh, there
are, day by day, vanishing from the world's presence,
those of whom she wotteth not ; whose heritage has
been a heritage of suffering ; who, in the squalors of

880

TUB rBOPUKT OF UOBKB,

poverty, have gleaned a hallowed chastening; from
whom the lircs of Bickness have Bcali'd their carthlincBB
away, and thoy have grown up into Buch transcendent
and archangel beauty, that Death, God's eagle, sweeps
them into lieaven. Murmur not, then, if, in the
inscrutable allotmentd of Providence, you are called to
Bufler, rather than to do. There is a time to labor, and
there is a time to refrain. The completeness of tlio
Christian character consists in energetic working, when
working is practicable, and in submissive waiting, when
waiting is necessary. You believe that beyond the
waste of waters there is a rich land to be discovered,
and, like Columbus, you have manned tlio vessel and
hopefully set sail. But your difficulties are increasing.
The men's hearts are failing them for fear ; they wept
when you got out of sight of land ; the distance is
greater than you thought : there is a weary and unva-
ried prospect of only sky and sea; you have not spoken
a ship nor exchanged a greeting; your crew are becom-
ing mutinous, and brand you mad ; officere and meu
crowd round you, savagely demanding return. Move
not a hair's breadth. Command the craven spirits to
their duty. Bow them before the grandeur of your
courage, and the triumph of your faith : '

Ort'">l

" Ilushing every muttered murmur,
Let your fortitude the firmer

Gird your Boul with strength ;
While, no treason near her lurkinff,
Patience in her perfect working,

Shall be queen at length."

i)*iil>']^.

•'li>

OF noREn,

ftUowcd chostcning; from
ftvo Bcalt'd their carthlinefiB
up into Bucli tmnscendent
Death, God's eagle, sweeps
iiur not, then, it", in the
ovidonce, you are called to
here is a time to labor, and
The completeness of the
in energetic working, when
in submissive waiting, when
a believe that beyond the
rich land to be discovered,
wo manned the vessel and
r difficulties are increasing.
; them for fear ; they wept
it of land ; the distance is
there is a weary and unva-
id sea ; you have not spoken
eting; your crew are becom-
you mad; officere and meu
y demanding return. Move
amand the craven spirits to
efore the grandeur of your
»f your faith :

muttered murmur,
ude the firmer
>ul with strength ;
^on near her lurkinf{,
r perfect working,
en at length."

1118 LIKK AND ITS I.KSSUMS.

831

'! Or'.') 'J //

Horl What is it? What says the watcher ? Land iu
the distance 1 No ; not yet— bnt there's a hopeful fra-
grance in the breeze ; the sounding-lino gives HJiallower
and yet shallower water ; the tiny laud-birds tlutter
round, venturing on timid wing to give their joyous
welcome. Spread the canvas to the wind ; by and by
there shall bo the surf-wave on the strand ; the summits
of the land of promise visiUlo ; the flag flying at the
harbor's mouth, and echoing from grateful hearts and
manly voices, the swelling spirit-hymn, " So he bringeth
us to our desired haven."

We are taught by the Prophet's history the evil of
undue disquietude about the asj)cct of the times. The
followers of Baal had been stung to madness by their
defeat on Carmel, and Jezebel, their patroness, mourn-
ing over her slaughtered priests, swore by her idol-gods
that she would have the Prophet's life for theirs. On
this being reported to Elijah, ho seems to bo paralyzed
with fear, all his former confidence in God appears to
be forgotten, and the remembrance of the mighty de-
liverances of the past fails to sustain him under the
pressure of this new trial. Such is poor human nature.
He before whom the tyrant Ahab had quailed— he
whose prayer had suspended the course of nature, and
sealed up the fountains of heaven ; he who, in the faco
of all Israel, had confronted and conquered eight hun-
dred and fifty men-terrified at the threat of an angry
woman, flees in precipitation and in terror, and, hope-
less for the time of his own safety, and of the success of

332

TUB VROPHKT OF HOttliB,

liis otulcfvvorB for tlic pood of I«ra(;l, wnndcrs off into tlio
wililenieHs, and KigUs foJ'tli liia feelings in the pcevislj
and melancholy uttvmnco : Let nio die. " It is enough
—now, O Lord God, take away n»y life, for I am no
better than my fathers." This desertion of duty, failure
of faith, sudden cowardice, unwarranted despondency,
petulance, and murmuring, are characterirttics of modern
no less than ancient (hiys. There is one class of observ-
ers, indeed, wlio arc not troubled with any disquictudo ;
to whom all wears the tint of the roso-light, and who
are disposed to regard the apprehensions of their soberer
neighbors as dyspeptic symptoms, or as incipient hypo-
chondriacism, "VVlienever the ago is mentioned, they go
oft' in an ecstasy. They are like tlib Malvern patients,
of whom Sir Lytton Bulwer tells, who, after having
made themselves extempore nmmmics iu the " pack,"
and otlierwise undergone their matutinal course of hy-
dropathy, are so intensely exhilarated, and have such
an exuberance of animal spirits, that they are obliged
to run a considerable distance for the sake of working
themselves off. Their volubility of praise is extraordi-
nary, and it is only when they are thoroughly out of
breath, that you have the chance to edge in a syllable.
They tell us that the age is " golden," auriferous in all
its developments, transcending all others in immediate
advantage and in auguries of future good. "We are
pointed to the kindling love of freedom, to the quick-
ened onset of inquiry, to the stream of legislation broad-
ening as it flows, to the increase of hereditary mind, to

r OF IIORKR,

f iHrad, wnndcrs off into tlio
his reelings in tlio peevish
Let n»o die. "It is enough
iway my life, for I nm no
liis dfsertion of duty, fuihiro
unwiirrivnted despondency,
ire eharacterirttics of modern
There is one class of obscrv-
iibled with any diflquictndo ;

of the roBO-light, and who
iprchcnsiona of their soberer
ptoms, or ns incipient hypo-
he ago is mentioned, they go
re like tlit; Malvern patients,
,'er tells, who, after having
e mummies iu the " pack,"
icir matutinal course of hy-
cxhilarated, and have such
pirits, that they are obliged
nco for tho sake of working
bility of praise is extraordi-

they are thoroughly out of
jhauce to edge in a syllable.
3 " golden," auriferous in all
iinff all others in immediato
IS of future good. "We are
vc of freedom, to the quick-
e stream of legislation broad-
crease of hereditary mind, to

UIS LIVE AND ITS I.KS80N8.

tho setting further and further back cf the old land-
marks of improvement, and to tlio iiicloHuro of wliole
acres of intellectual and niuial wuhle, tlioiiglit furnu'rly
not worth the tillage. Wo would not for one mimu'iit
be unduretood to undervalue these and other hi^ns,
equally and yet more encouniging. On tho other hand,
though no alarmists, we would not be insensible to the
fears of those who tell us that wo are in danger ; that
our liberty, of which wo boast ourselves, is strangely
like liceutiousncBS ; that our intellectual eminence may
provo practical folly ; that our liberality verges on in-
dillerentism ; and that our chiefest dignity is our yet-
unhumbled pride, that tppui'tjfia aapKhq, which, in all its
varieties, and in all its conditions, is "enmity against
God." A very cursory glance at the state of things
around us will suffice to show that with the dawn of u
brighter day there are blent some gathering clouds.

Amid those who have named the Master's name,
there is much which calls for caution and for warning.
Political strife, fierce and absorbing, leading tho mind
off from the realities of its own condition ; a current of
worldly conformity setting in strongly upon the churches
of tho land ; tho ostentation and publicity of religious
enterprises prompting to tho neglect of meditation and
of secret prayer; sectarian bitterness in its sad and
angry developments ; the multiform and lamentable
exhibitions of practical Autinomianism which abound
among us— all these have, in their measure, prevented
the fulfillment of the Church's mission in the world.

33^ THB PEOPHKT OF HOESB,

If you look outside the pale of the churches, viewed
from a Christian Btand-point, the aspect is somewhat
alarmin-. Crime does not diminish. The records ot
our offices of police and of our courts of justice are
perfectly appalling. Intemperance, like a mighty gulf-
stream, drowns its thousands. The Sabbath is system-
atically desecrated, and profligacy yet exerts its power
to fascinate and to ruin souls. And then, deny it as
we will, there is the engrossing power of Mammon.
Covetousness-the sin of the heart, of the Church, of
the world— is found everywhere; lurking in the guise
of frugality, in the poor man's dwelling ; dancing in
the shape of gold-fields and Australia before the flat-
tered eye of youth ; shrined iu the marts of the busy
world, receiving the incense i^T.d worship of the traders
iu vanity; arrayed in purple, and faring sumptuously
every day, in the mansion of Dives ; twining itself
round tlie pillara of the sanctuary of God ; it is the
great world-emperor still, swaying an absolute author-
ity, with legions of subordinate vices to watch its nod,
and to perform its bidding.

Then, besides this iniquity of practical ungodliness,
there is also the iniquity of theoretical opinion. There
is Popery, that antiquated superstition, which is coming
forth in its decrepitude, rouging over its wrinkles, and
flaunting itself, as it used to do in its well-remembered
youth. There are the various ramifications of the
Bubtile spirit of Unbelief: Atheism, discarding its former
audacity of blasphemy, assuming now a modest garb

OF HOBEB,

lie of the churclies, viewed
it, the aspect is somewhat
diminidh. The records of
f our courts of justice are
)erance, like a mighty gulf-
s. The Sabbath is system-
[ligacy yet exerts its power
uIb. And then, deny it as
oBsing power of Mammon,
le heart, of the Church, of
^here ; lurking in the guise
aan's dwelling ; dancing in
d Australia before the flat-
d Ju the marts of the busy
J tiT.d worship of the traders
)le, and faring sumptuously
n of Dives; twining itself
anctuary of God ; it is the
waying an absolute author-
inate vices to watch its nod,

ity of practical ungodliness,
theoretical opinion. There
superstition, which is coming
uging over its wrinkles, and
;o do in its well-remembered
arious ramifications of the
itheisin, discarding its former
suming now a modest garb

HIS LIFB AND W% LKSSONB.

335

and mendicant whine, asking our pity for its idiosyn-
crasy, bewailing its misfortune in not being able to
believe that there is a God ; nationalism, whether in
the transcendentalism of llcgel, or in the allegorizing
impiety of Strauss, or in the pantheistic philosophy of
Fichte, eating out the heart of the Gospel, into which
its vampire-fangs have fastened ; LatitudinaHaniam on
a sentimental journey in search of the religious instinct,
doling out its equal and niggard praise to it wherever
it is found, in Fetichism, Thuggism, Mohammedanism, or
Cliristianity ; that species of active and high-sounding
skepticism, which, for want of a better name, wc may
call a Credophohia, which selects the confessions and
catechisms as the objects of its ebpecial hostility, and
which, knowing right well that if the banner is down,
the courage fails, and the army will be routed or slain,
" furious as a wounded bull, runs tearing at the creeds ;"
these, with all their off-shots and dependencies (for their
name is Legion) grouped under the generic style of Infi-
delity, have girt themselves for the combat, and are
assert .ng and endeavoring to establish their empire over
the intellects and consciences of men. And as this
spirit of Unbelief has many sympathies with the spirit
of Superstition, they have entered into unholy alliance
—"Herod and Pilate have been made friends to-
gether"— and hand joined in hand, they are arrayed
against the truth of God. Oh, rare John Bunyan!
Was he not among the prophets ? Listen to his descrip-
tion of the last army of Diabolua before the final

33tf

THE PROPHET OF HOEEB,

triumpliof Immanucl: "Ten thousand T)oubtee8, and
fifteen thousand Bloodmen, and old Incredulity was
again made general of the army."

In this aspect of the age its tendencies are not always
upward, nor its prospects encouraging, and we can
understand the feeling which hids the Elis of our Israel
"sit by the wayside, watching, for their hearts tremble
for the ark of God." We seem to be in the mysterious
twilight of which the prophet speaks, "The light ^haU
not be clear nor dark, but one day kmwn unto the Zord,
not day nor night." Ahl here is our consolation. It
is "known unto the Lord ;" then our faith must not bo
weakened by distrust, nor our labor interrupted by fear.
« It is known unto the Lord ;" and from the mount of
Horeb he tells us that in the secret places of the heritage
there are seven thousand that have not ton. ^ the knee
to Baal. It is "known unto the Lord;" ale we

pity the Prophet in the wilderness asking . a solitary
death, death under a cloud, death in judgment, death in
sorrow, he draws aside the veil, and shows us heaven
preparing to do him honor, the celestial escort making
ready to attend him, the horees being harnessed into the
chariot of fire.

Sirs, if there be this opposition, be it ours to " con-
tend " the more " earnestly for the faith once delivered
to the saints." Many are persuading us to give up and

abandon our creeds. We ought rather to hold them
with a firmer grasp, and infuse into them a holier life.

We can imagine how the infidel would accost an intelli-

OF HOBEB.

thousand Doubters, and
and old Incredulity was
my."

tendencies are not always
jncouraging, and we can
bids the Elis of our Israel
g, for their hearts tremble
jm to be in the mysterious
it speaks, " The light shall
5 day known v/nio the Lord^
ere is our consolation. It
then our faith must not bo
r labor interrupted by fear.
;" and from the mount of
secret places of the heritage
it have not boM- ^ the knee
1 the Lord;" lile we

erncss asking . a solitary
leath in judgment, death in
veil, and shows us heaven
the celestial escort making
368 being harnessed into the

osition, be it ours to " con-
for the faith once delivered
ersuading us to give up and
ought rather to hold them
fuse into them a holier life.
fidel would accost an intelli-

niS LIFE AND ITS I.IilSSONS.

337

gent and hearty believer. " Bo independent ; don't
continue any longer in loading strings, taking your faith
froin the ipse dixit of anotlier ; use your senses, which
a.e the only means of knowledge ; cast your confessions
and rituals away; a strong nuui needs no crutches."
And we can imagine the reply. " Brother, the siuiilo
is not a happy one — luy creed is not a crutch — it is a
highway thrown up by former travellers to the land
that is afar oft". ' Other men have labored,' and of my
own free will 1 ' enter into their labor.' If thou art dis-
posed to clear the path wiiii thy own hatchet, w'*h
lurking serpents underneath and knotted branches over-
head, God speed thee, my brother, for tliy work Is of
the roughest, and while thou art resting — fatigued and
' considering ' — thou mayest die before thou hast como
upon the truth. I am grateful to the modern Macada-
mizers who have toiled for the coming time. Commend
me to the King's highway. I am not bound in it with
fetters of iron. I can climb the hill for the sake of a
wider landscape. I can cross the stile, that I may slake
my thirst at the old moss-covered well in the field. I
can saunter down the woodland glade, and gather the
wild heai-t's-ease that peeps from among the tangled
fern ; but I go back to the good old path where the pil-
grim's tracks are visible, and, like the shining light, ' it
grows brighter and brighter unto the perfect day.' "
Sirs, this is not the time for us to be done with creeds.
They are, in the various churches, their individual em-
bodiments of what they believe to be truth, and their

338

TUK PBOrnKT OF UOBKB,

individual protests against Avhat they dec:n to be error.
uGivc up our theology !" says Mr. James of Birming-
ham; "then farewell to our piety. Give up our
theolo-y ! then dissolve our churches; for our churches
arc foimded upon truth. Give up our theology 1 then
next vote our Bibles to be myths. And this is clearly
the aim of many, tlie destruction of all these together;
our piety, our churches, our Bibles." This testimony is
true. Tliero cannot bo an attack upon the one without
damage and mischief to the other. ' "'

" Just as in old niytliology,

What time the woodman slew
Each poet-worshipped forest-tree—
lie killed its Dryad too."

So as the assault upon these expressions of Christianity
is successful, the spiritual presence enshrined in them
^vill languish and die. "Hold fast," then, "thelbrm
of sound words." Amid the war of sentiment and the
jangling of false philosophy, though the sophist may
denmmce, and though the fool may laugh, let your
high resolve go forth to the moral universe; "I am
determined to know nothing among men save Christ
and him crucified." ■-!>.< '.'> ?> - j i . .

There is another matter to which, if you would suc-
cessfully join in resistance to the works of evil, you must
give earnest heed, and that is the desirableness, I had
almost said the necessity— 1 will say it, for it is my
solemn conviction, and why should it not be manfully

)F IIORIi:B,

at they dec.n to be error.
s Mr. James of Birming-
ir piety. Give up our
liurehes ; for our churclics
,c up our theology I theu
yths. And this is clearly
tionof all these together;
3ibles." This testimony is
tack upon the one without
ther. • ; r=,

ology, . •

oodman slow ^

led forcst-trcc —
ad too."

Q expressions of Christianity
resence enshrined in them
[old fast," then, "the Ibrm
3 war of sentiment and the
Y, though the sophist may
fool may laugh, let your
lie moral universe ; " I am
Qg among men save Chnst

to which, if you would suc-
the works of evil, you must
t is the desirableness, I had
-I will say it, for it is my
r shoTild it not be manfully

UtS LIFE AND ITS LESSONS.

889

out-spoken ? — the necessity of public dedication to the
service of your Master — Christ. You will readily admit
that confession is requisite for the completeness of
discipleship ; and you cannot have forgotten how the
Apostle has linked it to faith. " Confess with thy mouth,
and believe with thine heart." To such confession, in
the present day, at all events, church-fellowship is
necessary. You cannot adequately make it in social
intercourse, nor by a consistent example, nor even by a
decorous attendance with outer-court worshippers. There
must be public and solemn union with the Church of
Christ. Tlie influence of this avowed adhesion ought
not to be forgotten. A solitary " witness " of obedience
or faith is lost, like an invisible atom in tlie air ; it is
the union of each particle, in itself insignificant, which
makes up the " cloud of witnesses " which the world
can see. Your own admirable Society exemplifies the
advantage of association in benevolent and Christian
enterprise, and the Churches of the land, maligned
as they have been by infidel slanderers, and imper-
fectly — very imperfectly— as they have borne witness
for God, have yet been the great breakwaters against
error and sin, the blest Elims to the desert wayfarer,
the tower of strength in the days of siege and strife.
Permit us to urge this matter upon you. Of course we
do not pretend to specify — that were treason against
the noble catholicity of this Society— though each of
your lecturers has the Church of his intelligent pre-
ference, and we are none of us ashamed of our own ;

840

TUB rUOPUET OF HOUEB,

bnt we do mean to say, that you ought to joui your-
Belvos to that Church which appears to your prayerful
juclgmeiit to be most in accordance with the New Testa-
ment, there to render whatever you possess of talent,
and influence, and hihor. Tliis is my testimony, sin-
cerely and faithfully given ; and if, in its utterance, it
shall, by God's blessing, recall one wanderer to alle-
giance, or constrain one waverer to decision, it will not
have been spoken in vain.

Yet once more upon this head. There must be
deeper piety, more influential and transforming godli-
ness. An orthodox creed, valuable Churck privileges—
what are these without personal dcvotedness? They
must be faithful laborers— men of consecrated hearts—
who are to do the work of the Lord. Believe me, the
depth of apostolic piety, and the fervor of apostolic
prayer, are required for the exigencies of the present
and coming time. Tliat Church of the future, which is
to absorb into itself the regenerated race, must be a
living and a holy Church. Scriptural principles must
be enunciated by us all, with John the Baptist's fear-
lessness, and with John the Evangelist's love. It is a
mistake to suppose that fidelity and afiection are
unfriendly. Tlie highest achievements in knowledge,
the most splendid revelations of God, are reserved in his
wisdom for the man of perfect love. Who but the
beloved disciple coidd worm out of the Master's heart
the foul betrayer's name ? Whose heart but his was
large enough to hold the Apocalypse, which was flur.g

OF nouKB,

b you ouglit to join your-
appcars to your prayerful
[•dance with the Kew Testa-
vor you possess of talent,
I'his is my testimony, sin-
and if, in its utterance, it
nail one wanderer to allc-
erer to decision, it will not

is liead. There must be
al and transforming godli-
duable Churck privileges—
rsonal devotedness? They
len of consecrated hearts —
the Lord. Believe me, the
nd the fervor of apostolic
exigencies of the present
urch of the future, which is
^generated race, must be a
Scriptural principles must
ith John the Baptist's fear-
Evangelist's love. It is a
fidelity and afiection are
ichicvements in knowledge,
IS of God, are reserved in his
)erfect love. Who but the
m out of the Master's heart
Whose heart but his was
Apocalypse, which was flur.g

ni3 MKK ANU n'8 LKSoON:).

841

into it in the island of Patmos? Tlicre muyt bo this
union of deepest faithfulness and deepest love to
fit us for the coming age ; and to get it, we must
just do as John did : we must lie upon the Master's
bosom until the smile of the Master has burned out
of our hearts all earthlier and coarser jiassion, and has
chastened the bravery of ihc hero by the meekness of
the child.

The great lesson which is taught us in the Prophet's
history, is that which was taught to him by the revelation
on Iloreb, that the Word is God's chosen instnimentaUty
for the Church'' s jn'ogrcss, and for the woi'hVs recovery.
There were other lessons, doubtless, for his personal
benefit. lie had deserted its duty and was rebuked ;
he had become impatient and exasperated, and was
calmed down ; craven-hearted and unbelieving, he was
fortified by the display of God's power ; dispirited and
wishing angrily for death, he was consoled with
promise, and prepared for future usefulness and duty.
But the grand lesson of all was, that Jehovah, when ho
works, works not with the turbulence and passion of a
man, but with the stillness and grandeur of a God.
" lie was not in the whirlwind, nor m the earthquake,
nor in the fire, but in the still, small voice." And so it
is still. " The whirlwind " of battle, " the earthquake "
of political convulsion and change, " the fire " of the
loftiest intellect, or of the most burning eloquence, are
valueless to uplift and to regenerate the world. Tliey
may be, they very often are, the forerunners of the

342

THK rUOiniKT t)F IIORKU,

moral triunipli, but God's power is in his Goepol, God's
presence is in liis Word. Hero it is that wo are at
issue, at deep and deadly issue, Avith the pseudo-philoso-
phers and benevolent " considerers " who profess to be
toilinf,' in the same cause as ourselves. Tlioy discrown
Christ; they ignore the influence of the Holy Spirit;
they proclaim the perfectibility of their nature in itself;
they have superseded the "Word as an instrument of
progress; and, of their own masonry, are piling up a
tower, if haply it may reach unto heaven. This is the
great problem of the age. Do not let us deceive our-
selves. Tliere are men, earnest, thoughtful, working,
clover men, intent upon the question. Statesmanship
has gatlicred up its political appliances; civilization has
exhibited her humanizing art ; pliilanthropy has reared
educational, and mechanics', and all other sorts of insti-
tutes ; amiable dreamers of the Pantheistic school have
mapped out in cloud-land man's progi-ess, from the
transcendental up to tlie divine ; communism has flung
over all the mantle of its apparent charity, in the folds
of which it has darkly hidden the dagger of its terrible
purpose— nay, every man, now-a-days, stands out a
ready-made and self-confident artificer, each having a
psahn, or a doctrine, or a theory, which is to recreate
society and stir the pulses of the world. And yet the
world is not regoioratcd, nor will it ever be, by such
visionary projects as these. Call up History. She will
bear impartial witness. She will tell you that, before
Christ came with his Evangel of purity and freedom,

OF UORKH,

,'cr 18 ill his Goepol, God's
;cre it is that wo aro at
3, with the pscudo-philoso-
lercrs " who profess to he
jurselvca. Tliey discrown
enco of the Holy Spirit ;
ty of their nature in itself;
'ord as an instrument of

masonry, are piling up a
unto heaven. This is the
)o not let us deceive our-
ncst, thoughtful, working,

question. Statesmanship
uppliances; civilization has
; ; philanthropy has reared
and all other sorts of insti-
thc Pantheistic school have

man's progi'ess, from the
ine; communism has flung
parent charity, in the folds
in the dagger of its terrible

now-a-days, stands out a
snt artificer, each having a
leory, which is to recreate
of the world. And yet the
or will it ever he, by such

Call up History. She will
le will tell you that, before
igel of purity and freedom,

ni8 MKIO AND rVi I.KSSON.-*.

818

the finer the culture, the baser the character ; that the
untamed inhabitant of the old Ilerttynian Forest, and
the Scythian and Slavonic tribes, who lived north of the
Dimube and the Rhino, destitute entirely of literary
luid artiritie skill, were, in morale, far supe'"ior to the
classic Greek and all-accomplitihed llonian. Call up
Experience; she shall speak on the matter. You have
increased in knowledge ; have you, thctr/oi'e, increased
in piety ? You have acquired a keener aisthetic suscep-
tibility ; have you gotten with it a keener relish for the
eplrituallj true? Your mind has been led out into
higher and yet higher education ; have you, by its nur-
ture, been brought nearer to God ? Experience throws
euiphasis into the testimony of History, and both com-
bine to assure us that there may be a sad divorce
between Intellect and Pietv, and that the training of
the mind is not necessarily inclusive of the culture and
discipline of the heart. Science may lead us to the
loftiest heights which her inductive philosophy has
scaled ; art may suspend before us her beautiful crea-
tions ; nature may rouse a " fine turbulence " in heroic
souls ; the strength of the hills may nerve the patriot's
arm, as the Swiss felt the inspiration of their mountains
on the Mortgarten battle-field ; but they cannot, any or
all of them, instate a man in sovereignty over his
mastering corruptions, or invest a race with moral
purity and power. If the grand old demon, who has
the world so long in his thrall, is, by these means, ever
disturbed in his possession, it is only that he may

r.u

TUK I'ttOl'UKT OF ilOUKB,

wander into desert pluec^, and then rctrrn fresher for
the exercise, nnd bringhig seven of his kindred more
invcternto nnd crueh Ko ! if tlio world is to be n-
gcnenited at all, it will ho hy the " still, isniall voice ;"
that clear and marvellous whisper, which is heard high
above the din of striving peoples, and the tumult of
sentiment and passion ; which runs along the whole line
of being, stretching its spiritual telegraph into every
heart, that it may link them all with God. All human
speculations have alloy about them ; that Word is
perfect. All human speculations fail ; that Word
abideth. The Jew hated it ; but it lived on, while the
veil Avas t<trn away from the shrine which Shekinah had
forsaken, nnd Avhile Jerusalem itself was destroyed.
The Greek derided it, but it has seen his philosophy
eflete, and his Acropolis in ruins. The Eoman threw it
to the flames, but it rose from its ashes, and swooped
down upon the fulling eagle. The reasoncr cast it into
the furnace, which his own malignity had heated
« seven times hotter than its wont ;" but it came out
without the smell of fire. The Papist fastened serpents
nroimd 't to poison it, but it shook them off and felt no
harm. The infidel cast it overboard in a tempest of
sophistry and sarcasm, but it rode gallantly upon the
crest of the proud waters ; and it is living still, yet
heard in the loudest swelling of the storm ; it has been
speaking all the while ; it is speaking now. The world
gets higher at its every tone, and it shall ultimately
speak in power, until it has spoken this dismantled

OF IIOItKB,

d then rctrrn fresher for
jvcn of liis kindred more
if tlio vorld is to be n-
)y the " still, small voice ;"
ispcr, which is heard hi<;li
topics, nnd the tunuilt of
1 runs along the whole line
tnal telegraph into every
all with God. All human
out them ; that Word is
ulations fail ; that Word
but it lived on, while the
shrine which Shelcinah had
.lem itself was destroyed,
t has seen his philosophy
nins. The Roman threw it
am its ashes, and swooped
. The reasoner cast it into
\vn malignity had heated
its wont ;" but it camo out
Che Papist fastened serpents
shook them off and felt no
overboard in a tempest of
it rode gallantly upon the
; and it is living still, yet
<r of the storm ; it has been
3 speaking now. The world
one, and it shall ultimately
has spoken this dismantled

niS MFK ANn*lT8 LKSSONS.

845

planet up again into the smiling hrotherhood of worlds
wliich kept their first estate, and God, welcoming the
prodigal, shall look at it as he did in the b"ginning, and
pidiioiinco it to bo very good.

It is as they abide by his "Word, and guard sacredly
lliiri ])reciou8 treasure, that nations stand or fall. Tho
empires of old, where are they? Their power is
dwarfed or gone. Their glory is only known by tradi-
tion. Tlicir deeds are only chronicled in eong. I'ut,
amid surrounding ruin, the Ark of God blesses the
house of Obed-Edom. We dwell not now on our
national greatness. That is tho orator's eulogy and the
poet's theme. We remember our religious advantages
— God recognized in our Senate, his name stamped on
our currency, his blessing invoked upon our Queen, our
Gospel ministry, our religious freedom, our unfettered
]>rivilegc, our preciotis Sabbath, our unsealed, entire,
wide-open Bible. "God hath not dealt with any nation
as he hath dealt with us," and for this same purpose our
possessions are extensive, and our privileges secure —
that we may maintain among ourselves, and diii'use
amid the peoples, the Gospel of tho blessed God. Alas!
that our country has not been true to her responsibility,
nor lavish of her strength for God. It would be well
for us, and it is a startling alternative, if tho curse of
Meroz were our only heritage of wrath — if our only
guilt were that we " came not up to the help of the
Lord against the mighty." But wo have not merely

been indifferent — we have been hostile. The cupidity

15*

3tn

TUB PROPHKT OK UOUKD,

of our mcrclmnt«, tlio profligacy of our soldiers and
Bailor., the impiety of our traveller., have hindered the
>vork of the Lord, ihir (Jovenuuent has patronized
pa^animn ; our B„ldicry have saluted an idol ; our
ca.muu have roared in homage to a senseless stone-
nay, wo have even pandered to the prostitution of a
..cntinent, and to the murder of thousands of her sons,
debauched and slain by the barbarities of their religion
—and, less conscientious than the priests of ohl, wo
huvo flung into the national treasury the hire of that
adultery and blood. Oh ! if the righteous God were to
make inquisition for blood, upon the testimony of how
many slaughtered witnesses might he convict pampered
and lordly Britain 1 There is need-strong need-for
our national huniiliation and prayer, lie who girt us
with power can dry up the sinews of our strength.
Let but his anger be kindled by our repeated infideli-
ties, and our country shall fall. More magnificent than
Bab Ion in the profusion of her opulence, she shall bo
more sudden than Babylon in her ruin ; more renowned
than Carthago for her military triumphs, shall bo moro
desolate than Carthago in her mourning ; princelior
than Tyre in her commercial greatness, shall bo more
signal than Tyre in her fall; wider than Eomo in her
extent of territorial dominion, shall be more prostrate
than Rome in her enslavement ; pronder than Greece
in her eminence of intellectual culture, shall be more
degraded than Greece in her darkening ; more exalted
than Capernaum in the fullness of her religious privi

r or uoKKD,

ligacy of our Boldicre and
nvvullers, have liindcrcd tlio
Juvcniiiiont lias patroniziKl
lavc Baluted an idol; our
na<'c to a Bcnscless stone —
red to tbo prostitution ot a
or of thousands of her sons,
! barbarities of their religion
than tho priests of old, we
lal treasury the hire of that
if tho righteous God were to
I, npon the testimony of how
8 might he convict pampereil
is need — strong need — for
md prayer, lie who girt us
the sinews of our strength,
lied by our repeated infideli-
falL More magnificent than
of her opulence, she shall bo
a in her ruin ; more renowned
itary triumphs, shall bo moro
in her mourning ; princelier
•cial greatness, shall be more
dl; wider than Eomo in her
iiion, shall be more prostrate
ement; prouder than Greece
ectual culture, shall be more
her darkening ; more exalted
ullness of her religious privi

ni8 LIFK AND ITS I.KBSONi.

347

lego, shall bo moro appalling than Capcrna\im in tho
deep damnations of hor doom.

Young men, it is fur you to redeem your country
from this terrible curse. "The holy seed nliall bo the
Mibstanco thereof." As you, and thone like you, aro
impure or holy, you may draw do\,n tho de.truetiun,
or conduct it Imnidcesly uway. "Vou cju.xot live to
yourselves. E.' ry word yoa nltrr Miult*.'- its impres-
sion ; every deed you (h in SVft\i;/"!it vitlv influences —
successive, concentric, imT-.:vrle<l— \.idch may bo -Mt for
ages. This is a terrible j.-wcf whit L you have, mul it
clings to you ; you cahiiot i^hr.l^c ;t oil'. He u- 'vKl yuu
exert it? We place tw.. f;hiua'.!tcni hyioic y ai. Hero
is one — he is dccjded in Li:* dovotcdncs? (o Gwl ; piun<»-
taking in Ids search lor truth ;, s^ong in trmovylotil-,
purpose and holy endeavor ; v Icldsnj:; a l/hwed influ-
ence ; failing oft, but -cshv^ vo\cv \ ripening witli ilte
lapse of years ; the spirit niounlnip; upoa 'ho brcn' li .if
its parting prayer; Ihe last eno^ny destroyed; his
memory green for ages ; and gi'»tcfu! th< UKands cliisci-
lin'' on his tomb: "He, EKHva djjik, ykt f«r>v.KE3ii.''
There is another— ho resists religions imprGssions; ou*:-
growB the necessity for prayer; forgets J"0 le«oni ^n.
his youth, and the admonui<»n.^ of his godly lui>ne , -Ibr-
sakes the sanctuary ; firs in tha soat of tho ocoi-iier ;
laughs at religion -., k fr olisli dream ; influences many
for evil; runs to exoeea of vickedne.^a; sends, in some
instances, his "rtimo down belbra him ; is stricken with
preraaturo ou* age ; has hopeless prospects, and a ter-

313

THE PKOPHKT OF HOREB,

rible Jcath-l)cd; rots from the remembranco of liis
follows; and angel-liands burning upon his gloomy
sepulchre the epitaph of his blasted life : " And that

MAN PKRIBUKD NOT ALONE IN HIS INIQUITY."

Youn-^ men, Avhich will you choose? I affection-
ately press this question. Oh, choose for God ! " Seek
first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and
all things "—science, art, poetry, friendship—" shall be
added unto you." I do unfeigncdly rejoice that so
goodly a number of you have already decided.

I have only one fitness to address you— but it is one
which many of your lecturers cannot claim — and that
is, a fitness of sympathy. Your hopes are mine ; with
your joys, at tlieir keenest, I can sympathize. I have
not forgotten the glad hours of opening morning, when
the zephyr has a balmier breath, and through the
richly-painted windows of the fancy, the sunlight
streams in upon the soul. I come to you as one of
yourselves. Take my counsel. " My heart's desire and
prayer for you is that you may be saved."

There is hope for the future. The world is moving
on. The great and common mind of Humanity has
caught the charm of hallowed Labor. Worthy and toil-
worn laborers fall ever and anon in the march, and
their fellows weep their loss, and then, dashing away
the tears which had blinded them, they struggle and
labor on. There has been an upward spirit evoked,
which men will not willingly let die. Young in its

OF HOREB,

the remembranco of liis

iirning upon his gloomy

blasted life : " And that

S INIQUITY."

yon choose? I affection-
I, choose for God ! " Seek
nd his righteousness, and
jtry, friendship — " shall be
ifeigncdly rejoice that so
5 already decided,
iddress you — ^but it is one
rs cannot claim — and that
bur hopes are mine ; with
I can sympathize. I have
of opening morning, when
breath, and through the
the fancy, the sunlight
I come to you as one of
b1. " My heart's desire and
ay be saved."

are. The world is moving
on mind of Humanity has
sd Labor. "Worthy and toil-
d anon in the march, and
38, and then, dashing away
d them, they struggle and
an upward spirit evoked,
gly let die. Young in its

HIS LIFE AND rrS LESSONS.

349

love of the beautiful, young in its quenchless thirst after
tlie true, we see that buoyant presence ;

" In hand it bears, 'raid snow and ice,
Tlio banner witli tlic strange device :
'-' Excklsior!"

-;, .-.'■ h' ■' \," ■■■

The one note of high music struck from the great harp
of the world's heart-strings is gi'aven on that banner
The student breathes it at his midnight lamp — the poet
groans it forth in those spasms of his soul, when he can-
not fling his heart's beauty upon language. Fair
fingers have wrought in secret at that banner. Many a
child of poverty has felt its motto in his soul, like the
last vestige of lingering divinity. The Christian longs
it when his faitli, piercing the invisible, "desires a
better country, that is, an heavenly." Excelsior I
Excelsior! Brothers, let us speed onward the youth
who holds that banner. Up, up, brave spirit !

" Climb the steep and starry road
To tlio Infinito's abode."

Up, up, brave spirit ! Spite of Alpine steep and frown-
ing brow, roaring blast and crashing flood, up I Science
has many a glowing secret to reveal thee ! Faith has
many a Tabor-pleasure to inspire. Ha ! does the cloud
stop thy progress? Pierce through it to the sacred
morning. Fear not to approach the divinity ; it is his
own longing which impels thee. Thou art speeding to

350 THE PROPHET OF HORBB, HT8 LtlTK AND ITS LESSuNS.

tby coronation, brave spirit! Up, up, brave spirit!
till, as thou pantest on the crest of thy loftiest achieve-
ment, God's glory shall burst upon thy face, and God's
voice, blessing thee from his throne, in tones of approval
and of Avelcome, shall deliver thy guerdon: "I have
made thee a little lower than the angels, and crowned
thee with glory and honor !"

i;; --tK-*-

I t ■'*

t .v-»«-« i*>.»it*»

, -1 - *-*«> .i^'*

, ; IS. "» -.'-'^ a;*"^

•, s \'l'i.>

THE END.

■■■»

':.ii j-i,il>Ji'f l!

.i*f*r'

.- 'ir -> ■* '^-- ftit^-**; (ti.i"w *>tM

.ii-*'' »'.*,:*)» ^ili

B, 1118 LIKE AND ITS LESSENS.

rit! Up, up, brave Bpirit!
crest of thy loftiest acliieve-
irst upon thy face, and God's
Is throne, in tones of approval
liver thy guerdon : " I have,
than the angels, and crowned

gitibg & lachson's Ijpublitattons. 87

a END.

s \ -l % .V

LIBRARY OF SACRED CLASSICS.

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CONTENTS (IN FABT). ,^

THE SYMBOLS OF EARLY WESTERN CHARACTEB.
The UnUmed WUderaess— Daniel Boone—The Female Capt!T»-4»Je
Mysterious Shot— A Narrow Escape— A Backwoods Marriage— W*A<ling
Dinner and Dance— Homes In the WUderness— Justice in the Bacltwoodg
Preachers in the Wilderness- The Preaoher's Dormitory- Henry Bcidcl-
man Bascom— " Old Jimmy's" Reproofs— The Pioneer's Work.

THE TRIUMPHS OF GENIUS OVER BLINDNESS,
Beauty and ElTccts of Light— Eminent Blind Men— Remarkable Sense
of Hearing— John Milton— Premonitions of Blindness— Blindness an Im-
pediment to Oratory— Sympathy Necessary to the Speaker— The other
Senses Quickened— The BUnd Man's Need is his Gain—" I am Old and
Blind."

AN HOUR'S TALK ABOUT WOMAN. .J^^'/ ;_

The Moral Greater than the Intellectual— John Howard the Phllanthro.
pist— Ancient and Modern Women— Frivolity a Prevailing Evil— Earnest-
ness of Female Authors— Women the Best Literary Instructors— Woman'i
Responsibility— The Power of Sympathy— The Importance of ConTena>
tion — ^Woman the True Reformer.

EARLY DISCOVERIES IN THE SOUTHWEST. " "'
Exploration of the Mississippi— Gold Unsuccessfully Sougbt— Collisions
with the Indians— Attack upon the Chickasaws- Historical Traditions-
Incidents of Forest Life— Dispersion of the Settlers Anglo-Saxon Sii.

premacy.

Address,

DERBY & JACKSON, Foblishim,

1 19 Nam AH siKicT, If. T

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ting Work.

ND SADDLE-BAGS,

LEOTDRKa

mo. Prioe fl UU.

(IN PABT).
WESTERN CHARACTER.

Boone — The Female Capt'Te — ♦»•
-A Backwoods Marriage— W*A<ling
ilderneas — Justice in the Bacliwoodi
reaoher'8 Dormitory — Henry Bcidcl<
lofs — ^The Pioneer's Work.

nUS OVER BLINT)NES3,
nent Blind Men — Remarkable Sense
ous uf Bllndueas — ^Blindness an Im>
jcessary to tlie Speaker — The other
a Need is his Gain — " I am Old and

_-lIJe.-s7/ A

ABOUT WOMAN.
ctual — John Howard the Phllanthro*
■Frivolity a Prevailing Evil — Earnest-
B Best Literary Instructors— Woman'*
lathy — The Importance of ConTena>

IN THE SOUTHWEST.
)ld Unsuccessfully Sought— CoHisIoni
Chickasaws — Historical Traditions—
n of the Settlers Anglo-Saxon Sit-

Y & JACKSON, P0BLI8HIM,

1 19 Nabs AH siKiET, V. T

gnbg & Jachson'a ^ublicalions.

" T. Ih. lUl of John Mll.au .»■ oth«r bhud m.u .lo,u.nl,' m,,.t b. .dd.a tl- n-u. of Wiu.u*
UC«ll« MILBUKII."— io»i<)/l Atktwruill.

AM autobtooiiapby'op dei^Tntbhest I

For Sak hv Doolistlkn, FreacMrs, Colporteurs, and Book AgetUt

generally.

TEN YEARS OF PREAOHER LIFE;

OR, CUAriERS FROM AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
BY WII.I-I-A-M HENRY MILBURN

AOTHOB Of »IB« BIFll AXK, A«D iADBU-aAOk"

i;ll: One neat 12mo. volume. Price, One DoUar.

r.r . ,y . . .. Ti,„, w«. » time when mendow, grove •nd BtrMm.

The earih, ana every commou blglil,
"'^ ' 'I'o me did st'em

Aprerelle.1 In cclcsllal light.
The glory and lh>i frolincM of * dream.

:■■■( ;

LIST OF THE COOTENTS (IN PAllT),

Karly Reminiscence. The A«e|''«°'- ,,„„

The Sick Clia.nber. Suriilcul CoiuultAtlon.

Two Years' Imprisonment.

Land of the S.)t ing Sun.

" riierc were Ulants In those days.

The Backwoods Preacher.

The SaddU^-begs taken up.

Let no Man DespUe thy Youth.

A Western Wedding.

A Western Camp-Meeting.

An Exhorter In a Dilemma.

Liberality of Methodists.

The Last Scene of Conference.

i^;^'aM'g^'?. -t. A semen

beck.
ina^Vl'IJ'rVeln'd'coCeutonM Chaplain.
Necessities for Extempore Speaking.
A Stump Speech Desc** „,„,
Value of the Bye In an Orator.
Congress and two of ita Young Men.
Congressional Kloquence.
fUtfphen A. Douglas.
Alexander 11. Stephens.
Kcitering the Senate Chamber.
Hemorii. of the Oreat ^fV^^^^
iuthor'i Knt Prayer In Congrees.

John 0. Calhoun. Danlll

Uenry Clay.

Wehhter.
Social Life In Washington.

Attractions of the Capital.

Power of Memory. Influence of W oinen.
A Deathbed Summona. Marriage of tht

Chicago In 1S41, '-846, and 1855.
A Night niuf in a Deluge. Narrow Escape.
The Dying '.'reaci.er.
Graceln'-SpoU." Life on Wheels.
Life on the Mississippi A Boat Uaoe.
PaMscnuers excited. S. 8. "fsn'^-^, ,.
Phelps the Desperado. lUdlng the Circuit.

Sojourn in New Orleans.

Alabama Scenery. A Southern Home.
Tribute to the South.
Author Charged with Heresy.
Stagecoach Dialogue. A Fearful SpectB«l»
Strange Superstition. The Anxious Mo-

\\Z^9<i to Ladle*. Southern nospltallly
Southern Matron. Southern Literature.
Old Friends and Pleasant Faces
The Pioneer Preacher. Western CookTy.
A Nighl Scene in a Village Store.
Indisposition of 'I"*"''!"'"-. ,.„,,. o—
Koturns to New York. The Infant! Cry.

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"To MKB9RS. IlIRBT &, JaCISOR t

" I epeak ir.y honest itntlments when I pronounce ' BcuUh ' the best work of fiction
ercr pulilifjied by a Southern writer. To my mind, no American authoress has ever
produced a greater book. Can It be tr»e that Miss Evans la young? There is a life-time
«if thou„'ht and research, of struggles of mind and heart, in ' Beulah.' I have read
every word with Intense Interest. The character-painting is fine, the deterlption of past-
ing events and scenery graphic and striking ; but to me the ( lilef charm of the book lies
In ihe vivid portraiture of the doubts, the conflicts, the yearning!) and the final triumph
of a great soul seeking for truth. If the public can appreci.ite a thoroughly good work,
they will thank you for having given tliem ' Ueululi.' "

From Ret, Wm. II. ililbum (the Blind Preacher Eloquent). ;,-r

" I have no hesitation In saying that few books have ever interested me more. The

Clot, the delineation of character, and the action, I think, are all admirable. It would
e an extraordinary work from the hand of any woman, but It Is peculiarly so from
•ne so young. The reading of It cannot but do great good."

From Frederic S. Content, author of the" SparrowgrattPapert.''

" I have been greatly Interested by this story of the Mobile heroine, and I am con-
vinced that the story will produce a sympathetic impiession on the public mind. There
Is not a word in it, nor a phrase In It, that I have not mettd and measured. Over and
above the method of telling the story, the story itself wins, commands, controlf Ibf
sympatles of the reader. This, I take it, is the highest test of excellence."

From the Home Journal.

" Since the appearance of ' Jane Eyre,' no volume has fallen from the pen of a lady
writer evincing more power and learning than tlie novel ' Beulah,' and we do not hesi-
tate to say that in the production of this volume, Miss Evans has achieved the hlgheat
rank among novelists of her sex in this country."

From the New York Evening I'ott. ,a. UiTf

" She has, at any rate, established a rank among the best novelists of her sex whom
our country can boast, and we do not rememlier any work" of fiction which has been
produced in this country for years, which is written with more power and is more full of
promise than 'Beulah.' She has achieved a decided literary success, a auccese which
wiU at least be as cordially recognized at the North as at the South."

From the Boston Pott.

" ' Beulah ' la • book of great merit, and one which will bear critical and close Inspeo-
tton. * • • The volume is one deserving the attraction of the reading public. It
to healthy In lentlment, pure In Its Influences, and grand in itt treatment <^f great
moral queetlon*. Ai a literarr work, ' Beulah ' wlU rank with any issue of the dajr."

*«* Th« abovs will be lent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of price

W, H Tnsoa, Printer ul Smrutyper, 4S * 46 Cwkrt IkilLT.

;'s |!nbItcst!on«.

;i()

ronte of Araericn."— rroy Wklf.
■Baltimw Advtal*.

0,U 1

L AH.

L J. KVANS.
Price fl2S. ^^ ^. ^,,1

"."(itnoO

r ofth* most popular itri«$ ^ yatoU
n this eountry.

inounee ' Bculah ' the best work of fiction
ny mind, no American suthoress haa ever
t Miss Evans la young? There U a life-time
,nd and heart, in ' Beulah.' I have read
cter-palnting is fine, the deterlptlon of paii-
; but to me the r iiief charm of the boolc lie*
nfllcts, the yearning!) and the final triumph
lie can anpreci.ite a thoroughly good work,
Dculah.* "

'i« J!ltnd Preacher Eloquent). t

ooks have ever interested me more. Th«
ntion, I think, are all admirable. It would
if any woman, but it is peculiarly so from
do great good."

r of the " Sparrougratt Papered

Dry of the Mobile heroine, and I am eon-
letic Inipiession on the public mind. Thera
have not mettd and measured. Over and
'. story itself wins, commands, controlf tb*
he highest test of excellence."

me Journal.

3 volume has fallen ft-om the pen of a lady
%n tlie novel ' Beulah,' and we do not heal-
ilume, Miss Evans has achieved the higheat

itry."

York Evening i'oit.

MVTf

among the best novelists of her sex whom
enil>er any work' of fiction which has been
written with more power and Is more full of
i decided literary success, a (uccesa which
: North as at the South."

oaton Pott.

ne which will bear critical and close Inspeo-
; the attraction of the reading public. It
!8, and grand in its ireatmeni nf great
lah ' wlU rank with any iMue of the day."

lail, poit-paid, on receipt of ptlo*

wtyper, 4S « 46 CWtrs IktlLT.

$c(bQ iC' |iulisoit'< Ijublicattons.

THE WORKS OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE

OomprUin;; "Jane Eyre," "Shirley," and "Villctte." Complete in I
" ' Vols., 12rao,

«rioe in Cloth,

" Sheep, library style.

Half call^ gilt or anticine,

83 00
3 75
6 00

OR,

€\)t jBistnrij nf a ^^onng Inbij's SntroMiDn tn tj)B WMt.

BY FRANCES BURNET, {XADAME D'ARBLAT.)
WitA a Life nfthe Author by T. B. Macaulaij. 12mo.

Price in Cloth, $1 00

" Sheep, library style, 1 25

" Half oali; gilt or antiqne, 2 00

" Frances Uumey was the wonder and delight of the generation of noTel readers
lurceeding that of Fielding and Smollett, and she has maintained her popularity better
than most secondary writers of fiction. In painting the characters in a druwlng-roum,
or catching the follies and absurdities that flout on the surface of fashionable society,
the has rarely been equalled."— Cyc/o. of Englith Literature.

*^J1^i!= '"'

stM-

OOHIJSriSrE ; or, Italy.

BY MADAME DE STAEL.

TBAKSLATID BT ISIBIIL BIU.

With Metrical Tertione of the Odet iy I. E. Zandou. 12im>

Price in-Cloth, W 00

" Sheep, library style, . . 1 25
" Half calf, gilt or antique, . 2 00

" It (Corinne) possesses the highest merit as a wcrk delineating character, and da-
scrlptlve of scenery, and Inculcates a pure morality. Its eloquent rhapsodies upoa
love, religion, virtue, nature, hUtory, and poetry, have given It an enduring plaea la
itcrature."— trOodrtcA.

* * Tbe abore will be lent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of prio*.

W H, Ti»so«, Printer ud Swragtyp* « * U C'otrs St., N. Y

§tib8 * lachsou's Ijpublitalioni.

3.')

THE WORKS OF ANNE RADCLIFFE.

Tuot„U.,fiou,r»adv. " "^ in>^nn,v»,

ComprUing " The My.tcrics of Ud>lpl.o," and " Romance of the Foreit"
With Btccl portrait. 12mo. ,

Price in Cloth,

" Sheep, library style, .
** Half call; gilt or antique,

tsoo

4 00

Ukt th« great painter with whom .he has been compared, Mm. RadoM* U>r** »•
^oSw. hthf omrot,candt.rrlU.,-w.ththe,trlW.ng Image, of ih. -«""--/--''.
r. cJud and .torm, wild banditti, ruined castle,, half.dl.covered «"»P-" »' ^^" '
.hadow, of th. ln»l.Ibl. world which ..em at time, to cro« our path, and which .tlU
haunt and thrill the imagination.

THE WORKS OF JANE PORTER.

Tuo toll., note reodir.
Comprising "Th« Scottish Chiefe," and "Ihaddeus of Warsaw." With

steel portrait. 12mo, . ^,.;

Price in Cloth, W 00

" Sheep, library style, . . 8 50

•< Half call; gilt or anticine, . 4 00

i)iMmK«»J

« . Thaddeu. of War.aw,' ' which In our youth beguiled u, of our tear,,' 1, a fliTorit*
It I. to Ml«. Porter', fame that .he began the .y.tem of hlalorlcal novel-wr.ring which
..tilled the climax ot h, renown In the hand, of Sir Walter Scott. And no light pr^.
uT. that .he ha. tlm, pioneered the way for th. greaft exhibition of the r««e.l
.enlui of our Ume. She may parody Bishop Uall, and tell Sir Walter :

' I first adventured— follow me who Urt, (i»M.KB

And be iiteond Scottish novelist.' " .^^y ,

Fra—r''t JlagaMn*.

mj*

The above will b«» ••nt bv maili post-paid, on raoeipt •» prtoa

. ■ t* .V

^^j.^>^f---s«*s*^S^'^ & -^V<. ^ . --.

i ^lublualioni.

n.')

^ttbg d- lachson's |}ubltcationf.

NNE RADGLIFFE.

0," and "Romance of the Foreit"
•ait. 12mo. ,

. . . f2 00

tyle, •
: antique,

2 00
4 00

I been compared, Mrs. RadcUlft |0T«« »•
( BtrtUng Images of the mountala forwU,
tiei, halt-discovered gUmpsei of Ttolonary
A times to cross our path, and which still

JANE PORTER.

toiereadv.

nd "I'haddeus of Warsaw." Wifli
ait. 12mo. \,- .mvi-M^^J
, . . . S2 00

■tyle,

or anticine, . 4 00

outh beguiled us of our tears,' Is a fkTonte.
le system of historical novel-writing, which
ids of Sir Walter Scott. And no light praise
for the greatest exhibition of Ihe peateal
1 Uall, and tell Sir Waller :

-follow me who list, , ,, j.,»„,.^

jttlsh novelist.' " ^^ ,„,(. ,

lail, poii-paid, on receipt tf prioa

THE WORKS OF JANE AUSTEN.

CoirpriBing 'Trlde and Prejudice," "Sense and Sensibility," "Mansfield
(•arlf," "Northangcr Abbey," "Emma," and " r^rsunsion." Firrt
American Edition, wltli steel vignettes, complete in 4 to's., 12mo.

Price in Cloth, t4 00

" Sheep, library style, . . . S 00
" Half oaU; gUt or antique, . . 8 00

Mill Austen Is emphatically the novelist of Home. The truth, spirit, ease, and r*
tned humor ot her style, have rarely been equalled, ghe will aliviiys retain a leading
position in literature, as tlie representative of the domestic school of novels, of which
she was the founder, the great charm of which is truth and sImpUclty ; and notwith-
standing the brilliant soccesses of many recent imitators, she stlU remains undisputed
nistreas of this class of compotltlon.

H3'-

THE WORK^> OF HANNAH MORE.

j W ■ .^*iih fj^' '; '.'^- Two toU. now. 'tody,

ln.^prlaing "Coelebs ir Search of a Wife," her Tales and Alle^'jrtefc
..,, V/ith portrait on St 3el. 12mo.

Price in Cloth,

" Sheep, library Btyl^ •
" Half caU; gUt or anti<ine.

«2 00
2 SO
4 00

,w*6Tfl5 « si*.'?'/"' i!'r * ■ ■ "

4. .I 'How ,ny have thanked Ood for the hour that flrst madt »hem aequatsted witfc
IL« V uogi of Hannah More. She did, perhaps, as much real goo In her generation
. ^y woman that ever held the pen. It would be idle for us to dwel. "re on works so
.ell known. They have established her name as a great moral writer, . -weeslng a
mssterly command over the resources of our language, and devoting a keen „:: »n4
a Uvely fancy to the best and noblest of purposes."— C««"-<«'"'y li»ti*»>.

V The above will be sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of pric«

'V. H. Ti»o». Prl«>w »d SUfMlypfr, 49 A W C«tr« St., K. ¥.

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™= , 'HIT

¥OMS OF LEIGH HUNT.

Comprising his "Italian and English Potts," " Wii and numor," "Essay*,^
"Miscellanies," and "Englinh Authors,''' 4 vols.

Price in Cloth •» 00

" Bheop, library ityle, * 00

" Half calf, extra, 8 00

" Half calf, anUque, 8 00

"We ought to «»y that nothing c«n be 1ct« formel th»n the etyle of Mr. nunti
biayi. It reminds ui of the mauner of some of Etecle't beit papeti. Indeed, line*
the death of Bouthey, we think Leigh Hunt the plensantest writer wo hare. ♦ • •
An account was given In this Journal by an admirer of the only aurvlflng member of a
group of which Lamb wa« the central figure j It Is probaMe that of thli poup Hanlltt
was the man of highest Intellectual powers — Lamb the person who sought to see
everything ia the point of view In which It could be most favorably semi-and Hunt,
combining In a great measure both their powers, seems to have looked on life and books
In a spirit of more thoughtful appreciation than cither, and In a feeling more thoroughly
genial."— />»{'«» VnUtrsUy Magatin*.

THE WORKS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD.

Comprising his "Letters to his Son:' Complttt in 1 vol., Mmo.

Frico in Cloth W **

•' Sheep, library Ityle, .... 1 60

" Half calf, extra, 2 25

" Half calf; antlqne, • . • .2 26
" FuU tree calf; 8 00

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'"•A*Wt\ .■•.-■,- ~ -IWrtie-

publiiatlont

, : ;'l 11 T

IGH nil NT.

ts," " Wit and Utimor," "Ji'M(iy«,"
lA Autkori,'" 4 vol».

. . . . 80 00
6 00
9 00
9 00

DnbB A- |a(k0on'( ]^ublicnttoni.

« • •

• • •

s formal than the atyla of Mr. nunti
■ of Eteele's belt papen. Indeed, line*
plenaanteat writer we hare. • • •
nirer of the only surTlTlng member of a
It is probsMe that of tbli group Haclitt
-Lamb the perion who aoughl to aee
uld be moat favorably icen— and Hunt,
I, ieema to have looked on llf» and booki
I either, and in a feeling more thoroughly

ID CHESTERFIELD.

t." CompUU in 1 vol, \imo. ^

. . . .8120
B, . . . .100
.... 220
. . . .8 20
. . . .3 00

il, post-paid, on receipt of prio*

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THE LADY'S GUIDE

PERFECT GENTILITY

. \ I.

IN MANNERS, URt.SS, AND CONVERSATION,

in tUB rAMlLY, IN COMl'ANV, AT TUB PIANO KOIITK, TUB TAUl.K, IN llll

8TKBKT, AND IN OKNTLKUBN'd HOClBTr.

ALBO,

A i;aBI'Ul4 IN8TBUCT0B IM LlfrTKH-WBl . ISO, TOILET PBBPARATIIINa, FANOY

MKBULB-WOBK, MILLINBHY, DRE88MAKIN0, CABB OV WAIIDBOBI,

TDB HAIB, TEETU, UANDS, 1.11'K, ' oaPLKXlOM, ETC.

BY EMILY TUORNWELL,

ADTBOI or "TBI TODMO LiOlU' OWII aOOK," VML

V. Ona HandMma 18mo. Volume, with SUel Plate. Price 70 eenti.

CONTENTS.
AreeabicnoM and Beauty of Per«on-Uequi»ltei to F-iMale Beauty-Pimples \a\
Wilnklet— Choice Co«iiiet lee for Beautifying the Bkln— 'rn'mineul of the llalr— How to
Preserve the Teeth Sound an<l While— Choice l)«ntlfrlic-Me«ri« of securing a lleiiutlful
Tint to the l.lri»— Means of Improving the Appearance of the Hands— Ornamenlal eUecl
of uaatly kept Nails— How to liuve a Sweet Breath— OcnlUlty and Reflnementr-Toste
\ 'lb Regard to Manners— Low and Vulijar Associiillons— Oalt and Currlage-Uenlle-
I en'i Attendance— Kind of Cards and Manner of Carrying them— Length of Calls— Ue-
< "vlug Visitors -Introductions -Giving Invitutlons-Who may be luvitcd-Taklng
I ave— Dancing Occasions-Invitation to Sing or Piay-Conversallon at the Table-The
C 'eniony-After Congratulations and Festivities— Invitations to Hide on llorseback-
[ lite, Easy, and Graceful Deportment— Female Dress— How to conililne Klegance, Style
a d ■coDomy-Udles' Morning Attire— Street Dress-Young Ladles' Attlre-The Ap-
p el of Older Ladles-Gloves, Hundkercliiefs, Stockings, eto.-The Relation of Cuioa
E. « of Tight Lacing, etc.-Clcaning and Washing Dresses-To Perfume Unen-Te
E;..ract Grease 8poU-To Prevent Motha-The Art of Conversing with Fluency and Pro-
prlety-Uow to Treat FUttery-How to Address Young Geutleraen-Bpeaklng of One's
Eelf-Thlngs, Words, and Sayings to be Avold»d-Art of Correct and Elegant Lttter-
Writing- Useful Hints and Rules for Letter-Writers-Style of Addressing DllTerent P»i
sons- ModeU or Plans for Various Letters-Elegant Fancy Needle-work-Bracelets-A
l>rctly Lace Collar— Embroidery In Its Various Modes-St.tches on Muslin and Lace-
Composltlon for Drawing Patterns-The Art of Millinery and Dressmaking- Effect ol
ItSBiieM on the general appearance— FacU and Rules In Dressmaking, etc. etc. etc

•,• The above will be sent by mail, po8^paid, on receipt of prtr*

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