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c 
 
 
LECTURES 
 
 -AND- 
 
 SERMONS 
 
 -BY THE- 
 
 REV. G. WEBBER. 
 
 SECOND AND|NLARGED EDITION. 
 
 *o«. 
 
 Advbrtiskr Printing & Publishing Co. 
 
 1883. 
 

 ti 
 
PREFACE- 
 
 V 
 
 ^ 
 
 In introducing a second and enlarged edition of this work, 
 I have but little to add to the preface which introduced the first 
 edition. 1 wish to express my sincere gratitude to the public 
 for the cordial manner in which the former edition was received, 
 and the rai)id sale which it met, and to God for the blessing 
 which He was pjeased to vouchsafe upon that unpretentious 
 work, as testified to by many who received profit therefrom. 
 This second edition will be found to contain twice as much 
 matter as the former, two new lectures and several sermons 
 being added, together with the ordination charge, which was 
 delivered, in connection with my official position, to seven 
 young men ordained to the full work of the Christian ministry, 
 by the Conference of which I had the honor to be President, 
 the publication of which was unanimously requested at the 
 time. 
 
 In restatement of the reasons which led to the issue of this 
 second and enlarged edition I have to declare: 
 
 First, — My obligations to the authors whose works I have 
 consulted, particularly in the lectures on William Tyndall, Oliver 
 Cromwell, the Scottish Covenanters, and William, Prince of 
 Orange. In English history "Macaulay's History of England," 
 " Hallam's Constitutional History," " Ferguson's History of 
 England," " Hume's History ot England," and " Knight's 
 History of England," are the chief sources of information. In 
 Scottish history I have sought the standard works of both sides 
 — the Episcopalian and Presbyterian — together with copies of 
 the Covenants and other important records, and after careful 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 
 examination have sought to render to each his due. To 
 " Demaus' Life of William Tyndall" I am also much indebted. 
 This general acknowledgement, which I gratefully make, once 
 for all, is the more necessary because I have but rarely cited an 
 author's name in the course of the lectures. My aim has 
 been to look calmly and dispassionately at all sides of any 
 question or page of history, and then unhesitatingly set forth 
 my unprejudiced and candid opinion. By this course I know 
 I shall not please partizans on either side, but to them I can 
 only say, "What I have written I have written." 
 
 Second,— My aims and reasons for giving this volume to the 
 public. The lectures were originally prepared to instruct and 
 benefit popular assemblies without any intention beyond that 
 Their publication having been urged upon me, I have at length 
 consented to place them in this form, with the prayerful hope 
 that they may be a lasting blessing to many who have neither time 
 nor opportunity to study more minutely the great struggles of 
 the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The sermons were 
 prepared in the course of my regular ministry without the slight- 
 est idea of their appearing in print. But urged repeatedly to 
 present a volume of sermons to the public, I have, with some 
 reluctance, consented to place the following in this work, hoping 
 that they may be a source of guidance, or quickening, or con- 
 solation, or blessing to all who read them. My aim throughout 
 has been to profit or bless all who may favor me with their at- 
 tention. I have not the necessary leisure — even if I had the 
 ability or desire — to gratify the critic's eye or secure his com- 
 mendation. My sole desire is to assist men in a busy age, and 
 amid the mummeries of ritulistic practice, and the subtle and 
 audacious pretensions of Rome, to apprehend the great princi- 
 ples for which our fathers suffered, and by which means our 
 present liberties are preserved to us; so that we may see at 
 what cost, and from what parties we receive the freedom which 
 
'J 
 
 y 
 
 .1 
 
 PkfePACE, 
 
 S 
 
 we enjoy to-day ; that we may learn more highly to value their 
 principles, and if needs be, still contend or suffer for their dif- 
 fusion and establishment in the world. Prayerfully seeking the 
 blessing of Him who alone can succeed any effort for the 
 furtherance of His own glory in the world, I cheerfully present 
 this volume to the Christian public. 
 
 G. WEBBER. 
 Exeter, 1883, 
 
 N. B. — We deeply regret to find that a few typographical 
 errors have crept in after the final proofs were corrected ; and 
 are therefore now unpreventable. Our readers will please ex- 
 cuse these blunders, and make the corrections for themselves 
 when they occur. 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 LECTURES. 
 
 I. Stephen, the Protoniartyr 
 
 II. William Tyndall 
 
 III. Oliver Cromwell and His Times 
 
 IV. The Scottish Covenanters - 
 V. William of Orange - 
 
 The Christian Ministry (An Ordination Charge) - 
 
 PAOE. 
 
 9 
 25 
 46 
 67 
 87 
 
 112 
 
 SERMONS. 
 
 I. Christ Crucified 
 II. Prosperity of the Word - 
 
 III. Prayer - - . . 
 
 IV. Spiritual Quickening 
 V. Noah's Faith - 
 
 . VI. Moses' Faith 
 
 VII. The Christian's Life and Death 
 VIIL The Nature and Duty of Giving 
 
 IX. Justification 
 X. Sanctification . - , 
 
 XI. The Resurrection 
 XII. Service and Reward 
 
 121 
 
 141 
 149 
 
 158 
 165 
 
 173 
 
 181 
 
 190 
 197 
 205 
 
 212 
 
LECTUUK I. 
 
 STEPHEN, THE PROTO-MARTYR 
 
 lOGRAPHICAL study is at once pleasing, profitable, 
 
 and instructive ; it opens to the student one of tiie broad- 
 
 tG/3 est and most inviting fields of toil. The lives of the 
 departed are the source whence the historian derives much 
 of his information in his attempt to rescue from oblivion the 
 occurrences, manners and customs of fled ages. The thought 
 of the individual is invariably the rivulet which ultimately 
 swells into the broad and deep national mind, and the purpose 
 of an individual is that which finally becomes the pulse of the 
 nation, so that, while the nation imparts qualities to the man, 
 the man leaves the stamp of his individuality indelibly written 
 upon the nation. As truly an nations spring from the 
 individual, so does national character, so that in the study of 
 biography you study history ; you obtain a clue, if not a 
 distinct insight, to the causes of the rise and fall of empires, 
 the elements of national prosperity or decline, the secret of 
 reconstruction or revolution, the causes of upheaving or 
 re-modelling, and the law by which a perfect chaos is reduced 
 to order and tranquility. Thus biography is not simply for 
 the study of character, but a finger-touch, by which to feel 
 the pulse of the world. And then the variety which biography 
 presents invites you into every walk of life, from the loftiest 
 genius and most magnificent residence to the commonest walk 
 and the poorest home, and from the most defective and 
 erring course, glaring its w^arning light upon your path to the 
 most Christian and sublime life, showing the excellency of 
 
lO 
 
 STEPHEN, THE 
 
 
 1 i. 
 
 virtue. In the life of Alexander, or Caesar, or Napoleon, or 
 Wellington, it leads you in the track of battle, where you listen 
 to the wail of the vanquished or the shout of the conqueror, 
 and see thousands bleeding at every pore. In the life of 
 Plato, or Bacon, or Newton, or Dick, or Drew, it leads you 
 into the walks of science, in its depth and extent and fullness 
 of wisdom and knowledge. In the life of Angelo or Praxitiles, 
 it brings before you the painted canvas or chiselled marble, 
 in all the completeness of the image of life. In the life of 
 Milton, or Young, or Pope, it acquaints you with the song and 
 soul of poetry. In the life of Cromwell it presents you 
 with the civil reform; in the life of Howard with the 
 prison reform ; in the life of Arkwright with the mechani- 
 cal reform ; in the life of Addison with the literary re- 
 form ; in the life of Luther with the ecclesiastical reform ; 
 in the life of Wren it acquaints you with the architect ; in 
 the life of Wilberforce with the slave emancipator ; in the 
 life of Macaulay with the historian ; in the life of Whitfield 
 with the orator ; in the life of Hall with the accomplished 
 preacher; in the life of Wesley with the evangelist; in he 
 life of Livingstone with the explorer; in the life of Lay rd 
 with the excavator ; in the life of Paul with the theologii ^ ; 
 in the life of Peter with the courageous preacher ; in t e 
 life of John with the amiable Christian ; in the life of Steph< i 
 with the distinguished and heroic martyr. But while the fif J 
 is large, it is beneficial and salutary. We can learn mi e 
 from example than from perceptive utterance. Howe ;r 
 sublime the truth, if it has not been realized by a man of <e 
 passions with ourselves, it comes to us cold and distant, x; 
 may furnish us with correct notions, a complete system, a 
 beautiful form ; but it takes the touch of life to influence and 
 transform us. The most impressive and powerful of teaching 
 is_the accurate exhibition of individual character, simple and 
 like. But to study biography to profit, it is necessary to 
 get the multitude and to fix our attention on the individual, 
 and to trace the particulars of his history ; for while the 
 general characteristics of our race may be somewhat uniform, 
 yet there pertains to each some distinguishing shades of 
 character, or diversity of circumstance on which we may with 
 advantage reflect. In studying the individual we should 
 contemplate every side of him ; the man-ward, the God-ward ; 
 
 IS 11 
 
PROTO-MARTYR. 
 
 II 
 
 the outer, the inner life; his defects or doings, his flexibility 
 or firmness, his private or public acts, so that we may see who 
 and what he is. Such a scrutinizing gaze I want you to give 
 to the character before us. The great limner of the Bible has 
 portrayed our hero true to life. The Word does not, casnot 
 flatter. Its pictures are always drawn real and living ; and as 
 you trace the thrilling story, pause to reflect on some of its 
 most prominent features. 
 
 How abruptly Steijhen is introduced to us, and how ex- 
 tremely concise is the account respecting him. There is 
 nothing circumstantial or minute in the narrative. You have 
 nothing of his birth, or ancestry, or education, or training, or 
 early life. On all these points the record is profoundly silent. 
 The sixth and seventh chapters of the Book of Acts furnish 
 you with all the account you have respecting him ; and there 
 he is presented to view, a full grown man, with a fully de- 
 veloped moral manhood ; one of the first seven deacons of the 
 Christian Church, who were appointed to distribute the com- 
 mon fund that was entrusted to the apostles for the support 
 of the poorer brethren. The Hellenestic Jews complained 
 that a partiality was shown to the natives of Palestine, and 
 that their poor were neglected. To remove the cause of 
 complaint, the apostles gave immediate directions to the 
 assembled believers to select seven men, in whose faith and 
 integrity they had perfect confidenr e, for the superintendence 
 of everything connected with the relief of the poor. Stephen 
 is the first mentioned upon whom the choice fell ; and of him 
 the inspired penman pauses to record, " a man full of faith 
 and of the Holy Ghost." He is no sooner introduced to you, 
 entering upon his duties with extraordinary zeal and success, 
 than you behold him a powerful preacher, performing great 
 wonders and miracles to awaken closer attention and inspire a 
 deeper reverence for the word he utters. And then, sudden 
 as the lightning flash, you see him a persuasive and eloqu^^ 
 controversialist in the synagogue of the foreign Jews, dispu^^ 
 ing with them on the Christian scheme ; and from thence the 
 rising malice, which could not disprove a single argument of 
 the masterly pleader, dragged him before the Council or San- 
 hedrim, as a blasphemer. There he stands, as Heaven's 
 monitor, not caring so much to defend himself as to defend 
 the truth. He refutes the charges brought against him ; but 
 
12 
 
 SI'EPHKN, THE 
 
 I! 
 
 li 
 
 
 I 
 
 in doing so, he labors to make the trutli more intelligible and 
 clear, despite all the consequences that might ensue. He 
 faithfully denounces the guilt and criminality of his hearers, 
 charging them with resisting the Holy Ghost, persecuting the 
 projD^iets and murdering the Prince of Life. The effect on 
 his conscience-smitten, enraged auditors was terrible. They 
 wreaked forth their vengeance in the most violent manner ; and 
 from that heap of frantic persecutors the tranquil and radiant 
 martyr, tired of earth, passed away to the cloudless, sorrowless 
 home of heaven. This is just all tlie writer says of him. 
 But is not this enough to assure you that his career, though 
 short, is full ; though brief, is sublime ; though limited, will, 
 in its grandeur and effects, outvie a Methuselah and outlast 
 ages, and be admired by the last ransomed heart ? Stephen 
 lived a noble and divine life in his brief hour ; and though the 
 record does not supply you with the details of his birth and 
 parentage, it reveals to you what is infinitely more — the man. 
 What matters it whether his ancestry was poor, his origin 
 obscure, and his calling humble ; or his ancestry rich, his 
 origin great, and his vocation lofty ! It is only a mean mind 
 that points to what a man zaas ; an intelligent mind always asks 
 what a man t's. Royal deeds, lofty aims, and a true life come 
 not from the ancestry, but from the heart ; and the greeting 
 with which a man should be met is not, " Have you a father, 
 are you of noble blood, or of courtly address, or of high position, 
 or of wealthy purse?" but, " Are you a wan, have you a soul 
 that is earnest, and noble, and single, and Christian ?" It is 
 possible to make nobility stand forth in all its nobleness, and 
 position, and rank, to be a power ; for the jewelled hand may 
 lead a fallen one to the fellowship of a higher life ; and the re- 
 fined expression may be a whisper of truth and love ; and the 
 lordly mansion may become an asylum, where the poor and 
 outcast may be fed and blest. But the manhood which impels 
 to it has not come through the veins of his ancestors, but 
 through the generous pulse of his own inner walk with God. 
 There are some, we know, who weakly think that anustry is 
 everything ; that the hereditary transmission if the noblest 
 distinction of being ; that the soft white hands and tender 
 flesh of the rich man's sons are far grander than the stout 
 muscle, and sinewy heart, and hardy frame of the poor 
 man's sons. But there may be comeliness in both, or 
 
 II 
 
 ■A'- 
 
PROTO-MARTYR. 
 
 13 
 
 meanness in both, according to tlie soul or manhood that 
 underlie them. Those who look so much to the 
 the ancestry, and boast it, re-live the old contemptuous scorn 
 of centuries, but only to stand rebuked by the history of cen- 
 turies. When the great Teacher a])peared, living the most 
 perfect manhood, and developing the richest store of learning, 
 men sneered, " Is not this the carpenter's son ? He is only a 
 Nazarene !" But there was a manhood that eclipsed them all. 
 "Pooh!" says one, "hj is only a fisherman." But high- 
 souled Peter went everywhere preaching the Word of life. 
 " Oh !' said another, " it is only a tentmaker !" But glorious 
 Paul could reason of truth till a judge became a reluctant 
 confessor. " A heretic!" shouted the furious bigots of Rome. 
 But Luther stood forth the mightiest man of his a.i^^e. " A 
 foolish adventurer!'' shouted many a courtly noble. But pati- 
 ent Columbus discovered America. " A low-bred tinker !" 
 shouted some of the polite ones. But great John Bunyan be- 
 came the immortal dreamer. " A consecrated cobbler !" 
 sneered Sidney Smith. But sublime William Carey toiled on 
 for the evangelization of India, until thousands of converted 
 Hindoos sprang forth as the fruit of his unwearied toil ; and 
 an oriental scholar and a missionary of the first type, he passed 
 to the great recompense. It is one of the most pleasing fea- 
 tures of this age that intelligent men no longer ask for a relict 
 of royalty, and a trace cf noble ancestry as a passport to emi- 
 nence, distinction, and power ; but rather for real worth and 
 true merit. Society is beginning to wake up to the truth, " 'tis 
 only noble to be good ;" and learning to smile at the claims of 
 long descent, and at those qualities which are heired like the 
 patrimonial acres. "The truth is becoming a strong, growing 
 world, feeling that a living dog is better than a dead lion." 
 Attempting no conjecture of his ancestry, behold the 
 
 MAN ! 
 
 His life. He has a purpose of life. I suppose it would be 
 impossible to find a real lile without a purpose. An aimless, 
 purposeless being is not deserving a worthier name than a 
 mere existence. A man who Is destitute of the energy and 
 principle that moulds itself intoa power and purpose leaves his 
 character to shape itself into the shifting occurrences of each 
 successive day, and the wayward moods of each fitful com- 
 panion ; but it attains no definiteness, and therefore life is 
 
14 
 
 STEPHEN, THE 
 
 i! 
 
 m 
 
 H 
 
 H 
 
 wasted in inaction.or in a thousand deeds that are all disorder, 
 because lacking a central, controlling purpose. Such a one 
 may fret sixty minutes to death every hour, and then pass away, 
 and no one know he has had a being beyond his own circle. 
 A purpose, from which all action shall evolve, by which all ac- 
 tion shall be sustained, and to which all action shall converge, 
 is necessary to a real and worthy life. A master-purpose which 
 moulds everything into a true and loyal subordination to itself 
 is the one secret of the lives of those distinguished ones who 
 have vindicated their claim to be chronicled on the muster-roll 
 of the heroes of the tribe and the distinctive feature of their 
 success and power. Our heart does not appear big enough, 
 nor our lite long enough to admit of more than one all-con- 
 trolling, all-pervading purpose. True, a diversity of purposes 
 obtain, but only one is reserved to each ; and whatever that 
 purpose be, into its service the whole life is pressed. The 
 warrior lives for conquest, the merchant for commerce, the 
 miser for gold, the tourist for travel, the statesman for power, 
 the student for learning, the philosopher for knowledge, the 
 philanthropist for reform, the son of genius for fame, the sen- 
 sualist for appetite, the worldling for pleasure. Stephen had a 
 purpose, but itwas worthier, and surpassing far the purpose of 
 the world's foster-gods. It was sublimer than the greed of gold, 
 or the worship of mammon or the chase of appetite. The one 
 worthy purpose he distinctly set before him was pre-eminently 
 Christian — to gl rify God, to exhibit the supremacy of truth, 
 to publish fully the peculiar and distinguishing truths of our 
 holy religion ; to lay bare the lost and guilty state of man, his 
 helplessness and depravity, and his need of divine and spiritual 
 influences to enlighten and renew his moral nature; to unfold 
 the suitableness of the gospel to man's condition, and the glory 
 and excellence of the plan of salvation which the system of 
 Christianity unfolds,and the holy results and practical tenden- 
 cies of genuine, vital religion, wherever it is cordially em- 
 braced ; to set forth Christ in the divinity of his person, the 
 efficacy of his atonement, the power of his grace, and the love 
 of his heart ; to humble the proud heart, and lay it in the dust 
 of self-abasement before God ; to quell the sinward propensi- 
 ties of the nature, and to raise the soul into the completeness 
 of its moral manhood ; to curb and harness the passions of 
 men, and urge them to strive after the image of the Heavenly ; 
 
PROTO-MARTYR. 
 
 IS 
 
 to thaw the winter frost from the heart of the selfish ; to open 
 the world's dim eye to the majesty of goodness ; to soothe the 
 sorrows of poverty and dry the tear of orphanage ; to heal the 
 mourning of widowhood and redeem from want the perishing 
 and famishing ones. This was his sphere of beneficient ac- 
 tivity, his field of holy toil, his true, fulfilled, and all-absorbing 
 life-purpose — that which held the man, the life, in perpetual 
 spell. Then you observe this noble and sublime purpose of 
 being was steadily and constantly pursued^ amid hazard, and 
 suffering, and hatred, and mockery, and threats, and storms, 
 and tempests of rage. The life never diverged from its God- 
 inspired purpose ; never failed ol its lofty aim. It always 
 climbed into the proud ascendency ofeverything, and so made 
 the man mightier than his surroundings. Amid the wildsurge 
 of malice and passion there stands Stephen, calm, firm, fixed. 
 His heart, his life, his soul, has but one purpose, and from that 
 he does not falter ; and believe me, the man that would survey 
 the landscape from the summit of the lofty mountain must be 
 prepared to climb the hard breathing steep, to overcome the 
 tangle and thicket which lie in the path of ascent ; to cope 
 with the battling storm that shall wave his tangled hair, and 
 resist all to gain the crest ; or the man that would trace the 
 source of some famed stream must be ready to brave peril and 
 hardship and even death to gain the charmed secret ; or the 
 man that would win a niche in the temple of fame must be 
 content to spend patient years in pressing and unobserved toil ; 
 or the man that would gain the sublimest of all recompense, 
 the eternal well-done of the King Immortal, must be ready to 
 bear all things or fulfil all things that his Master allots. To 
 fulfil our life-work we must be steady and unfaltering in our 
 allegiance to the purpose of being ; but the purpose, in all its 
 nobleness and grandeur, enables you the better to behold the 
 
 MAN. 
 
 His character. The^rj/ and one of the most prominent 
 traits of Stephen's character is the thoroughness and beauty of 
 his religious principles. That there may be no mistake or ques- 
 tioning on this point, the inspired historian affirms, once and 
 again, that Stephen was full of faith, and power, and of the 
 Holy Ghost. His whole soul was flooded with divinity ; his 
 faith was unfaltering and firm ; his power with God and man 
 ;mighty and marvellous, and his possession of the Spirit was 
 
i6 
 
 STPHEN, THE 
 
 1 !! 
 
 W 
 
 abundant and unrestrained. He walked in the constant fellow- 
 ship of Heaven ; breathed the spirit of Christ, battled with the 
 world, and the flesh, and Satan ; rose superior to the witchery 
 of evil ; clung lingcringly to the arm Divine; hied constantly to 
 the palace beautiful ; lived daily in the smile of God, so that it 
 is no wonder the lambent glory lit up his countenance to the 
 alarm and dismay of his enemies on the day of trial, and to 
 the proof of his own inner and consistent godliness. Oh, it is 
 blessed, in this world of formality and deep stained pollution, 
 to get near a man with so much of heaven in his composition, 
 and sun oneself in his smile as he comes forth with the halo 
 of his Pisgah communings still lingering around him! Stephen 
 was eminently and emphatically a Christian of the truest type, 
 and the same thoroughness and nobleness of religious charac- 
 ter we covet for you. Allow me to hope that you have al- 
 ready decided for Christ ; that you have seen enough of your 
 own native vileness and moral depravity, and spiritual destitu- 
 tion to feel that you are utterly undone and forever ruined 
 without a conscious, divine change within, and that you have 
 seen enough of merit in Christ's perfect and all-sufficient 
 atonement to believe in Him, and in Him alone, to the saving 
 of your souls. Now, walking in the fear of God and in the 
 comfort of the Holy Ghost, we urge you, labor to attain all 
 that religion has proffered for your acceptance and enjoyment 
 — seek to conquer all that is false, and selfish, and mean, and 
 defiling, and depraved, and labor to secure all that is true, and 
 benevolent, and lofty, and spotless, and gentle, and sublime ; 
 seek to overcome self, and satan, and sin ; and aim at being 
 wholly assimilated to the morally lovely and Divine. Let 
 every soul-faculty tend to heaven, and the entire being be in- 
 stinct with holiness, and tire never in your eager thirst after the 
 Divine until you are complete in Him. I know that to reach 
 a character so exalted and perfectwill cost effort and diligence, 
 and toil, and watchfulness, and prayer; but the prospect from 
 the summit of Beulah will well repay the labor of climbing ; 
 the blessedness of the state will more than recompense the toil 
 of winning and standing on such an altitude. You can accom- 
 plish much good, chain many a rebel will, win from many a 
 fatal step, raise from many a blighted prospect, and lead into 
 the walks of holiness and heaven many eager enquirers ; and- 
 to redeem a lifetime from sorrow and crime, and an eternity 
 
PROTO-MARTYR. 
 
 17 
 
 from woe, is the worthiest of all achievements ; to become a 
 centre of influence for good is the grandest of all power; to 
 ray out kindness and rippling bliss into the homes and hearts of 
 men, is the noblest of all acts —and tliat is yours as you climb 
 into the Divine. Oh, covet pre-eminent piety, ])ant after 
 perfect holiness, yearn to be spotless, glorify (iod, bless men, 
 benefit your generation, by standing forth in all the nobleness 
 of Christian decision, by grasping the fullness ot the biesssings 
 of the Gospel of Christ ! 
 
 The i<^6v//// trait of the character you trace in Stephen is ////- 
 faltering constancy in the avowal and maintenance 0/ his tspouscd 
 Jaith. It cost more than a little for a man to be a Christian, 
 and openly to profess his faith at times and under the cir- 
 cumstances of Stephen. Underneath the purple folds and 
 glittering crown, and potent sceptre of the kingly Herod, 
 there «as a vilainous intent, and a murderous purpose lurking 
 against the Christian faith, and the Roman invader was 
 little disposed to countenance the new faith. The Jew, with 
 all the prejudice of early training, and with all his regard for 
 that gorgeous ceremonial that had enfolded itself around his 
 heart, had caused it to be understood that he was fiercely op- 
 posed to what threatened the overthrow of his own system ; 
 and those who had crucified the Prince of Life were not likely 
 soon to embrace a creed which would bring back upon them 
 all the guilt and crime of murder ; and as for the priests, they 
 were only so many vampires to suck out the life-blood of the 
 Christian peo|.le ; and such was the moral condition of the 
 Gentiles, that no support could be expected from them, so 
 that to profess the religion of the Nazarene required a noble 
 daring and a martyr's courage ; it required that a man should 
 stand with his life in his hand, ready at any moment to sacrifice 
 it rather than compromise his cherished faith. But the con- 
 stancy of Stephen failed not ; he was prepared to speak 
 honestly, and act bravely whatever might fo low ; he did not 
 faint from weariness, nor was he deterred by ingratitude, nor 
 palsied by fear, but, like another Daniel, he would still hold 
 fellowship w.th Heaven, when the lion's den threatened as 
 recompense ; or, like another Luther, he would maintain his 
 faith, though furious bigots and malignant devils might hotly 
 oppose ; and his confession to the council was like Luther's to 
 the Cardinal de Vio : — " Had I five heads I would lose them 
 
I f* 
 
 i8 
 
 STEPHEN, THE 
 
 li: 
 
 all, rather than retract from the testimony which I have borne 
 for Christ." Valiant, courageous, he dares confess Christ be- 
 fore his very murderers, and charge them with villainy and 
 crime ; undaunted, he pales the Jewish cheek with the spectres 
 of murdered prophets whom they had madly slain ; still fear- 
 less, he crimsons the brow with the mad hate of keen accus- 
 ings for resisting the Holy Ghost ; calm and unmoved to the 
 last, amid the rage of gnashing teeth, he thunders forth his 
 heaven-inspiring prospect, and even in death his last whisper 
 is an avowal of his faith in Christ. I dare not think that the 
 «r".r jxperience of peril surrounds your confession of faith in 
 C itianity, and your avowal of being on the Lord's side. 
 Happily, the days of confiscation, and martyrdom, and exile 
 have passed away, and brighter, and holier days are ours. 
 Days of religious toleration and freedom are the times we live 
 in, when crowned kings, subtle nobility, or lawless mob dare 
 not tread the sanctuary threshold to annoy ; when the minis- 
 ter has the sanction of law and Heaven freely to preach the 
 truth divine. But though we have not the foul odor of dun- 
 geons, the torture of racks, the pain of banishment, the scorch 
 of flame, or the gores of massacre, to deter us from the confes- 
 sion of religion, there is a something to test our fealty to the 
 truth divine, and to make us feel that all who will live godly 
 in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution. It may be difficulty, 
 or disaster, or opposition confronting you in the works of duty, 
 and you have to choose the path because it is right, without 
 any prospect of profit or pleasure; or perhaps your companions, 
 or friends, or the society around you curl the lip of scorn, and 
 endeavor to shame you out of your open and avowed confes- 
 sion of Christ, or your speech and deed is misrepresented and 
 abused, so as to get you to falter in the course you have in- 
 telligently chosen, or you have daily to walk amid influences 
 inimical to piety ; but allow us to urge you to halt not on the 
 path of life, and never be ashamed to confess Christ. Openly 
 and fearlessly stand forth, the avowed adherent of the faith 
 divine; crimson the cheek of the scorner by that humble and 
 holy constancy that makes iniquity blush, and live Christ be- 
 fore a world : "For he that overcometh shall inherit all 
 things." 
 
 The third trait of character you observe in Stephen is, hia 
 Jirm and unswerviug allegiance to the Word of God, 
 
PROTO-MARTYR. 
 
 ^ 
 
 You observe it is that Word he sought openly to vindicate. 
 For its defence he was content to sacrifice his Hfe, and from 
 that Word he derives all his arguments to disprove the views 
 and accusations of his enemies. From whence he had derived 
 his fund of Bible lore we cannot determine ; he might have 
 been early trained in one of the principal seminaries of Jewish 
 learning, or he might have been brought up at the feet of one 
 of the learned doctors, or from his youth his anxious parents 
 might-have trained him in the Scriptures, and subsequent to 
 his conversion he might have applied himself with commend- 
 able zeal to acquire a knowledge of the Sacred Law. Through 
 whatever medium the knowledge was obtained, it is indisputa- 
 ble that he was mighty in the Scriptures, and from them he 
 glanced arguments keen as lightning, and powerful as thunder 
 to silence the adversaries ; and from that Word, as the pillar 
 of his belief, the bulwark of his faith, the weapon of his de- 
 fence, and the sword of his conquest nothing could divorce 
 him ; he stood by it as a man, and it made him more than a 
 man ; and in this Stephen, as a confessor and a moral re- 
 former, stands not alone. Ever^ moral hero of every age has 
 attached himself unswervingly to the Word divine. With 
 what tenacity our glorious Wycliffe stood by the sacred Book, 
 and with what eager fondness Luther and his associates ad- 
 hered to the simple teaching of the Scriptures ! Here was 
 their strength and power ; and at the diffusion and circulation 
 of the Holy Scriptures in the language of each country in 
 Europe the reformers steadily aimed. True, the Papal bull 
 was issued against this circulation of the Word, and the gene- 
 ral feeling of the Romish clergy was openly against it. Then, 
 even to possess a Bible was to be a heretic, and the first 
 deadly symptom of Protestant infection was to be found in 
 reading the living Word without priestly license, and men 
 were immured within the walls of an inquisition for that 
 simple act j and men, such as Tyndal, were martyred for being 
 translators of the Bible, while hundreds of copies of the Word 
 were bought up to prevent their circulation, and burnt by the 
 common hangman ; but still the Word was diffused, and the 
 reformation progressed rapidly, triumphantly. Nothing seemed 
 able to stand against the Word. Soul after soul, province 
 after province, kingdom after kingdom, were won to the Pro- 
 testant cause, and every subsequent reformation, whether car- 
 
20 
 
 STEPHEN, THE 
 
 : I I 
 
 l> I 
 
 I I 
 I I 
 
 ried on by the agencies of Knox, or the Puritans, or the Wes- 
 leys, has been effected by the teaching and distribution of the 
 sacred oracles, and to this hour God's appointed instrument 
 for the conversion and renovation of mankind is the promul- 
 gation of the truth divine ; and where this truth is omitted, 
 whatever system of principles and institutions may be sup|)ort- 
 ed, or whatever names those princi|)Jes may bear, and in what- 
 ever communion of nominal Christianity they may be exhibit- 
 ed, they are powerless for all the practical purposes of good. 
 By what means did the fishermen of Galilee overturn the 
 altars of heathenism, expel demons from their usurped do- 
 minion, silence lying oracles, and dispel the ignorance of bar- 
 barism and superstition of mankind ? By means of the truth 
 as it is in Jesus ; and still if we would break down the strong- 
 holds of vice, and promote the spiritual good of the race, we 
 must not trust to secular power or worldly pomp, or philo- 
 sophic learn incj, or famed genius, or thundering elo(|uence, but 
 to those principles and truths which have a vita connection 
 with the life-inspiring doctrines of the Cross. Let the lamp of 
 truth be ever burning in our temples, and Ichabod will never 
 be inscribed on our walls; but the moment we substitute any 
 teachings for the Word divine, the glory departs at once. 
 Therefore, to you conies the appeal of the great Master, in all 
 its force ^nd power : " Search the Scriptures." Form your 
 creed and principles from a careful study of that Word ; and 
 then swerve not a hair's breadth from the grand and sublime 
 old Book, for it is through that Book that your heart — that 
 the world's heart —is to be pulsed with the life that dies not. 
 
 The fourth trait of character you trace in Stephen, is the 
 free and ready forgiveness of injuries. In no instance did the 
 spirit of resentment and malace sway or influence the man of 
 God. True, he was moved and outspoken ; but it was in de- 
 fence of the abused and insulted truth. In spirit, toward his 
 enemies he was meek and forgiving to the last ; and his dying 
 whisper was, " Lay not this sin to their charge." He had 
 sufficient ground for resentment, in that he was falsely and 
 groundlessly accused, and that he was condemned and stoned 
 without any proper reason But the Christian gained the as- 
 cendancy over the man ; so that, like his great model, he died 
 with the breath of forgiveness trembling froii his closing lips. 
 Oh, what a type for the study and emulation of the Christian 
 
I'ROTO-MARTYR. 
 
 21 
 
 lot. 
 the 
 the 
 
 an of 
 
 n de- 
 his 
 
 dying 
 had 
 and 
 
 oned 
 
 ■d 
 
 heart, [^ranpling with the many vires ot* the cheating world — 
 threalcmiig the destruction of his fame, the bHghting of his 
 repmni()n,and rebuking the least desire to rise ; end.Mvoring, 
 rather, to keej) him under the "oot of infamy, tlian to make 
 him a power before whom many shall bow! How the examj)le 
 of Stejihen whispers, amid all that the world does or says ; 
 '■ Let not the sun go down U|)on tliy wrath, but forgive, and it 
 shall be forgiven you !" To forgive is the sublime^t revenge. 
 'Vhofif/h and last trait of character I want you to observe 
 is,f/ia/ Stephen unis a man of prayer. In wiiatever situation 
 you view him— whether mingling with the saints, or bracing 
 himself for the stern and fierce controversy, or bending under 
 the stroke of insult and calumny —committing his soul to 
 Jesus you see the grace of supplication is invariably resorted 
 to. Prayer jireceded and succeeded his every action. Prayer 
 was inse[)arably blended with all he did. The secret of his 
 calmness, fortitude, constancy and triumj)h was prayer. And 
 if we would be mighty, we must he men of prayer. If we 
 would overcome our foes, resist ourselves, trample upon all 
 that is opposed to religion, prove firm in our adherence to the 
 truth, and never fail in our witnessing testimony for Christ, we 
 must use the weapon of all — prayer. Prayer is safety, amid all the 
 temptations incident to ircat and nnforseen prosperity. 
 Prayer is a succour amid all the keen bitings of pinching want. 
 Prayer is a shield amid the whirl of business and the snares of 
 evil. Prayer nerves the arm and frame to vanquish all wrong. 
 Prayer makes the shop, the mill, the mine, the field, the 
 market, the street, the cave, the mountain, alike to be a holy 
 place, where the Divine Father comes down in the cloud, upon 
 the mercy seat to commune with man. Prayer will assimilate 
 man to the nature of Hmi with whom he communes, and so 
 cast over the soul the gentleness and meekness of Christ. 
 Prayer will complete and perfect man's character in the growth 
 of holiness, and meeten him for the supremest end of being. 
 Prayer will furnish us with direct and proper communications 
 of the Divine will. Prayer makes the inner heart of man the 
 temple-home of God. Prayer links man's wants with God's 
 fulness, and man's weakness with God's strength ; so that the 
 human is clothed upon with the Divine. Prayer is man's 
 noblest power and mightiest prerogative. Do you pray? Do 
 you pray often ? Pray much, pray long, pray in secret, pray 
 
M 
 
 STEPHEN, THE 
 
 
 I! 
 
 llM 
 
 everywhere ; don't forget to pray. Whoever neglects or scoffs, 
 or however pressed by business or secular engagements, or in 
 whatever situation placed, remember, it is ours to pray without 
 ceasing. 
 
 Passing from the character, you behold the man, in his 
 DEPARTURE. There are several aspects under which the death 
 of this holy martyr may be viewed ; each full of profit and 
 beauty. The radiant smile of gentle forgiveness which marks 
 it ; the firm and unfaltering trust in Jesus which he maintains ; 
 the undoubted certainty of an endless home above, to which 
 he confesses ; the calm and peaceful manner in which he falls 
 asleep in Christ ; the smile of Heaven which beams upon him 
 with such an unearthly loveliness ; the symbolic posture of the 
 revealed Christ to him, as standing to contemplate the scene 
 of his martyrdom, and welcome the person of the heroic 
 martyr ; — all these add a charm to the sweet and instructive 
 triumph of the glorious Proto-Martyr. But pausing not to de- 
 tail the various thoughts clustering around the departure of 
 Stephen, you must briefly survey one scene — that death in all 
 tts entire/less. But to paint that scene in all its grandeur and 
 sublimity, is perfectly beyond us. Without doubt you have 
 watched a setting sun, as it gradually glides away into the 
 bosom of evening, and have observed that it is more beautiful 
 just before it is wrapped in the folds of night than at any other 
 period of the day. In the morning it is lovely, fringing the 
 cloud with amber and with gold, and bathing the world in 
 light. At mid-day it is more beautiful, shining full-orbed upon 
 the world, and making it smile with the cheer of summer. 
 But at eventide it is the most lovely ; making the clouds 
 curtains of the richest dye, the sea like one wave of silver, the 
 earth like a splendid painting of the most superb colors, and 
 the sun itself appearing like one vast body of crimson glory. 
 But such a scene, though one of the loveliest nature has to 
 offer, is a very imperfect type of the dying martyr. The malice 
 of his foes, the injustice of his death, the foaming hate which 
 stoned him, and the excruciating torture of his bruised and 
 sinking body, dimmed not the vision of his soul. Martyred 
 in a brutal manner, and bleeding at every pore, the dying hero 
 fixed his inner eye upon that world whose unfathomable bless- 
 edness and glory is summed up in that word of deepest, sweet- 
 est meaning. Heaven. And as he nears his final home, his 
 
PKOTO-MARTYR. 
 
 n 
 
 expectation rises into divinest ecstasy ; visions of endless 
 glory wave before the eye of his faitli ; and raptures, such as 
 fill the burning seraphim, fill his soul. To him death comes 
 not as a grim jai'^r, to unlock his prison fetters and lead him 
 forth to execution ; bfJt as God's messenger, to set his captive 
 free, and send the exile iiome. So that death's visage is not 
 terrible, but ridiant as an angel's smile. Death wraps him in 
 a garment of glo^y, and, lefting in the sunlight of the celestial 
 city upon his soul, it presents the full glories of heaven 
 clearly to his view ; and then, while the bodily pains are 
 deeply agonizing, death becomes a triumphal chariot to sweep 
 him home to heaven. And in this, the first Christian martyr 
 is only a beautiful type of thousands of sainted martyrs who 
 have followed him to the same triumphal home. The dun- 
 geon, the rack, and the fires of Smithfield all echo the truth 
 of this. But this triumphal departure is not only the privilege 
 of martyrs, but of all believers in Christ. All may not pass 
 down to death with the same halo of glory encircling; them as 
 surrounded Stephen ; but all, like him, may calmly fall asleep 
 in Jesup. All may not, as he, have a flood of living glory 
 poured around their last moments ; but all, like him may 
 whisper to the Eternal ; " Into Thy hands I commend my 
 spirit." Oh ! it is yours to date your last message from the 
 land of Beulah ; to know that the river of death is but a nar- 
 row rill, that may be crossed at a single step, whenever God 
 shall whisper ** Come :" to be fanned by the breezes and 
 bathed in the light and thrilled by the spirit of heaven as you 
 have it full in view. It is yours, in Christ, peacefully, happily, 
 victoriously, sublimely, divinely, to conquer death by dying, 
 and to pass from the moral battle to the endless conquest and 
 coronation of the life to come. And living a life so true and 
 pure and faithful, and dying a death so happy and victorious, 
 you shall leave behind you the most fragrant memory and in- 
 fluential example, so that being dead, you may yet speak. No 
 one will question that the life of Stephen is an influence and a 
 power to-day, and will continue to be so until the close of 
 time ; though I need hardly tell you that we unhesitatingly re- 
 ject, as incredible, and without foundation, that strange tradi- 
 tion of the Church of Rome about the efficacy of the relics of 
 the Proto-Martyr, viz : It is stated that, in the reign of the 
 Theodosius, Lucian, the priest of Caphar Gamala, a village 
 
24 
 
 STEPHEN, THE PROTO-MARTYR. 
 
 I't 
 
 is . 
 
 in 
 
 m 
 
 1 :; 
 
 :: 
 
 I 
 
 about twenty miles from Jerusalem, had revaled to him, by a 
 dream, the burial-place of the Martyr Stephen, and that when 
 the coffin which contained his remains was opened, the earth 
 trembled, and an odor, such as that of Paradise, was smelled, 
 which instantly cured the various diseases of seventy-three of 
 the assistants and standers by ; and that the relics were then 
 removed, in solemn proce sion, to a church on Mount Zion, 
 and the most minute particles of these relics — the scrapings of 
 a bone, a drop of bbod — were possessed of divine and miracu- 
 lous virtue in every part of the world, wherever they were car- 
 ried ; and, in fact, St. Augustine, in his great work, " The 
 City of God," relates above seventy miracles — of which three 
 were resurrections from the dead — performed within the limits 
 of his own diocese, in Africa, by the relics of St. Stephen. 
 But while we reject that strange and untruthful fabrication of 
 Rome, all will admit that the name, and life, and deeds, and 
 death of Stephen is beneficial and blessed throughout the 
 whole of Christendom to day ; and though no physical cures 
 and resurrections have occurred through his name, yet moral 
 quickenings have taken place and are still occurring through 
 his self-sacrificing and heroic example. And you, like Stephen, 
 robed in the garments of salvation, may go forth to spread the 
 name of Jesus, perform the noblest deeds of service, and die 
 in the. fulness of victory, leaving behind you the most precious 
 and fragrant memory, and others, seeing your good works, 
 shall glorify your Father, who is in heaven ; while you shall 
 be up yonder in that heavenly home, robed and perfected 
 and crowned, a king and priest to God for ever. 
 
LECTURE II. 
 
 WILLIAM TYNDALL, 
 
 [UST as several cities of Greece have contended for the honor 
 of iiaving given birth toHomer,so several places in England 
 contend for the distinction of being the birthplace of Wil- 
 liam Tyndall — the hero of the English Reformation and the 
 translator of the English Bible. Some who profess to have care- 
 fully traced the genealogical line claim that his family hailed from 
 the north of England ; others, from Norfolk in East Anglia, 
 and that he was descended from wealthy and aristocratic 
 houses, whose members were familiar in royal palaces and shared 
 royal honors ; while more recent and reliable writers, who have 
 worked out the pedigree on scanty documentary evidence, claim 
 the county of Gloucester as the place of his true nativity, and a 
 respectable middle-class family as his kinsfolk. But even here 
 there is a dispute whether the parishes Oi" Stinchcombe or 
 Slymbridge, or the old manor-house of Hunt's Court, Nibley, 
 shall have the honor of being the birthplace of the great trans- 
 lator. So that it is not quite certain whether he was born on 
 the meadowy banks of the Severn or amid the breezy 
 and beautiful Cotswold hills. The only reliable evidenco 
 we have is from the statement of Fox, the martyrologist, 
 who remarks that Tyndall was born on the borders of 
 »Vales, and as Monmouth belonged to Wales, then this 
 would confirm the claim of Gloucestershire, and still more 
 would the important and recently-discovered letter of 
 Stokesly, Bishop of London, in the Record or State-paper office. 
 in which he speaks of Edward Tyndall, Receiver-General of 
 Crown Revenues for Berkeley Manor, Gloucester, as brother to 
 Tyndall, the arch-heretic. Stokesly having been rector of 
 
r 
 
 26 
 
 WILLIAM TYNDALL. 
 
 
 I 
 
 Slymhridge, was well and personally acquainted with the Tyn- 
 dall family, and his testimony seems to us unquestionable and 
 decisive ; and as Nibley in 1866 was the first to rear a monu- 
 ment to perpetuate the name of Tyndall, let us conclude, as we 
 safely may, that England's greatest benefactor was born in this 
 quiet parish at the foot of the picturesque and lovely Cotswold 
 hills, overlooked by the noble memorial reared to his honor. 
 The date of Tyndall's birth is also uncertain ; but when all the 
 evidence is carefully weighed, it is most probable that he was 
 born in the year 1484 — a time of terrible religious stagnation, 
 and mental and moral servitude, when, in another sense than 
 that of Scripture, the earth was lying still and at rest — at rest in 
 the lap of the Papal Church. Rome was supreme in Europe. 
 There was not a crowned head but did obeisance to the Pope, 
 nor a country but was under the iron rule of that corrupt 
 church. Of Tyndall's early life and advantages we know but 
 little. His education, we learn, was not neglected, while his 
 peculiar aptitude for acquiring knowledge would ensure his suc- 
 cess. Fox tells us that he was brought up from a child in the 
 University of Oxford, which must be interpreted to mean that 
 he entered the university young, and from a child he also seems 
 to have heard something of the Scriptures, for in later years he 
 tells how he read when he was a boy that King Athelstane, 
 meaning probably King Alfred, caused the Holy Scriptures to 
 be translated into the tongue that then was in England. It is 
 to be presumed that the incident made a deep impression on 
 his mind. Tradition connects this early incident with the 
 name of John Wycliffe, the morning-star of the Reformation. 
 But if the writings and teachings of Wycliffe had ever exerted 
 an influence in Gloucester through his pupil, the fifth Baron of 
 Berkeley, and his chaplain, John deTrevisa, Vicar of Berkeley, 
 the impression must have passed away, for at the time of Tyn- 
 dall's birth the church had apparently recovered from 
 the wounds inflicted by Wycliffe and the Lollards, and this very 
 county became again a boasted stronghold of the church. 
 The persecuting kiws which the House of Lancaster had en- 
 acted to gain the favor of the clergy had apparently fulfilled 
 their purpose. The voice of heretical teaching was silenced, 
 and the doctrines of the Gospellers anathematized and stopped. 
 The clergy resumed their wonted arrogance and returned to 
 their evil ways, feeling that all danger was passed. 
 
WILLIAM TYNDALL. 
 
 27 
 
 The ignorance of the clergy and religious orders seems in- 
 credible. Tyndall afterAvards asserted that there were twenty 
 thousand priests in England who could not translate into 
 English a clause of the Lord's Prayer, and Bishop Hooper states 
 that he found scores of clergymen in the county of Gloucester 
 unable to tell who was the author of the Lord's Prayer, or where it 
 was recorded. The Bible was practically unknown to clergy and 
 people. The translation of the Scriptures was forbidden by 
 the church,and the study of the Scriptures did not form a part of 
 the education of the religious teachers of the people. The 
 compilations of schoiastic doctors usurped the place of the 
 Word of God, and, as a result, superstition and hypocrisy took 
 the place of true religion. Obedience to the clergy, and fasting, 
 and pilgrimages, and penance, and the efficacy of relics, and the 
 worship of images, and kissing the thumb nails before prayer, 
 and flinging holy water at the devil, were openly preached in- 
 stead of Christ and Him crucified. 
 
 Tyndall entered the University of Oxford as a student at 
 Magdalene College at an early age, but unfortunately we have 
 no full and authentic record of his university career. We 
 know that he was a very successful student, a devout and 
 anxious scholar, and that he graduated with honors. But the 
 statements of Fox and the gleanings from Tyndall's own 
 writings are too brief to supply more than a rift through 
 which to look in on his life at the university. Fox says that at 
 Oxford he grew in knowledge and language and the arts, and in 
 the knowledge of Scripture, and that he read privily to certain 
 students and fellows of the college some parcels of divinity, 
 instructing them in the knowledge of Scripture ; and that he 
 was much respected for his learning, and virtues and unspotted 
 life. Of the ** apostles of ignorance," who then influenced the 
 studies of the university, Tyndall gives no very flattering account. 
 It was a kind of scholastic treadmill where they had to grind 
 away at subtle syllogisms and logical snares and the corrupt 
 productions of the mediseval school-men. " In the univer- 
 sities," says Tyndall, " they have ordained that no man shall 
 look at the Scriptures until he be trained for years in heathen 
 learning and armed with false principles, with which he is shut 
 out from the understanding of the Scriptures, and at his first 
 coming he is sworn that he shall not defame the university, 
 whatever he seeth, and when he taketh the first degree he is 
 
28 
 
 WILLIAM TYNDALL. 
 
 I : 
 
 sworn that he shall hold none opinions condemned by the 
 church, but what such opinions be he shall not know, and 
 then, when admitted to study divinity, because the Scripture is 
 locked up with such false expositions and with false principles 
 of natural philosophy that they cannot enter in. They go about 
 the outside and dispute through all their lives about words and 
 opinions pertaining as much to the healing of a man's heel as his 
 soul." Anything more humiliating than these brief indignant 
 sentences suggest can hardly be conceived. The student was 
 fettered and blinded by the most inexcusable perversions, and 
 the sublime study of theology was made a wretched battle-ground 
 of contemptible wrangling, instead of a beautiful river of water 
 of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God 
 and the Lamb. 
 
 But, notwithstanding the deplorable condition of the 
 universities at this time, a few noble scholars ventured 
 to revive the taste for learning, especially classical learning, 
 stirred by the example of Italy. Foremost among these 
 must be mentioned Colet, afterward Dean of St. Paul's, 
 who, on his return from Italy, where he had studied Greek, 
 and listened to the fervid eloquence of Savonarola, did 
 much to quicken the intellectual and religious life of Oxford. 
 Colet was suspected of teaching heresy, and his subse- 
 quent elevation did not prevent suspicion and danger, 
 though Colet had neither the stamina, nor boldness, nor depth 
 o^ conviction, nor impassioned devotion that marks a true leader 
 and reformer. Colet's lectures on St. Paul excited great atten- 
 tion, and were thronged by all classes at the university. He 
 spoke with great ease, clearness and force, and his words were 
 eagerly canvassed. The new system of exposition which he 
 had inaugurated gave great offence to the champions of tradi- 
 tional scholastic orthodoxy, whilst younger members sympa- 
 thized with the new and superior interpretations. On all sides 
 the ecclesiastical authorities were becoming alarmed. Hereti- 
 cal opinions were beginning to spread, and it is almost certain 
 that Tyndall became awakened and enlightened and con- 
 firmed in the truth by the teachings of Colet, who, in a 
 very important sense, may be regarded as Tyndall's spiritual 
 father, though the disciple went far, far beyond the master 
 in his knowledge and devotion to the Sacred Word. Among 
 Colet's auditors were men destined to fame. There was 
 
WILLIAM TYNDAM.. 
 
 39 
 
 Erasmus, attracted from Rotterdam, and held by the tastes 
 and learning, and opinions of Colet, and Thomas More, after- 
 wards Sir Thomas More, and William Tyndall, then the most 
 obscure of the grand quartette ; but to-day the fame of the Dean 
 of St. Paul's, and of Erasmus, who for a time was the literary 
 autocrat of Europe, and of Sir Thomas More, England's great 
 Lord High Chancellor, is eclipsed in the glory that excelleth; 
 and the name of William Tyndall, because of his more solid 
 work and sublime consecration, is the most fragrant and abid- 
 ing. But still it must not be forgotten that Colet gave the first 
 impulse in England to that great movement which Tyndall so 
 nobly helped to fulfil. 
 
 Tyndall left Oxford for Cambridge for reasons that are not 
 shown. Whether to advance his education, or from persecution, 
 or to place himself under the teaching of Erasmus, who was 
 then at Cambridge, we cannot say. Some believe that his re- 
 moval from Oxford was a necessity to escape persecution. We 
 believe tha the was drawn to Cambridge by the fame of Erasmus, 
 who was then at the zenith of hispoi)ularity, and as a lecturer 
 had not only introduced into the University of Cambridge a 
 fresh enthusiasm in the study of Greek, but had ridiculed the 
 theories of the schoolmen and their fantastic systems of inter- 
 pretation and asserted the supremacy of Scripture. We know 
 that, however strongly Tyndall afterwards condemned the vas- 
 cillating timidity of Erasmus in Reformation times, at this time 
 he profoundly admired the learned Dutchman, and looked up 
 to him as a guide. He eagerly read Erasmus' works, and in 
 after years avowed his intention of translating the Bible into 
 English in the very words of Erasmus' Greek 'restament. His 
 residence at Cambridge was very helpful to him. Fox says, " he 
 was there further ripened in the knowledge of God's Word." 
 W^hilst there he had amongst his fellow-students the pious and 
 gentle-hearted Bilney, the shrewd and far-seeing Cranmer, 
 grave, honest, upright Hugh Latimer — men destined to play 
 so conspicuous a part in the history of the next generation. 
 Before leaving the university Tyndall made choice of the 
 profession of his life, and was ordained to the priesthood. 
 Tyndall appears to have left Cambridge at the close of 1520, 
 with a thorough academical training and with a deep love for 
 the W^ord of Ciod. Why he did not secure a permanent position 
 at the university-a position for which he vras eminently qualified 
 
30 
 
 WILLIAM TVN'DALL. 
 
 — no one can say. God seems to have designed it otherwise. 
 It was with him as it was with Martin Luther and John Knox, 
 and a thousand others of the world's great moral heroes and 
 benefactors, that he had to learn in the school of stern disci- 
 pline, amid malignant opposers in cold exile, the endurance and 
 bravery and self-sacrifice of true moral heroism. 
 
 On leaving Cambridge, Tyndall became chaplain and tutor 
 in the family of Sir John Walsh, at Little Sodbury, in his own 
 native Gloucester, where he remained upwards of two years. 
 Sir John Walsh, by the generous favor of his sovereign, and 
 by a most fortunate matrimonial alliance, became a gentleman 
 of considerable wealth and position in the county, which 
 secured for Tyndall a powerful protector amid the hostility of 
 an excited clergy as well as the opportunity of conversing 
 freely with the leading gentlemen and clergy of the neighbor- 
 hood, who frequently shared the hospitalities of the 
 manor-house of little Sodbury. There, as Fox tells us, he 
 frequently met with a goodly company of abbots, deans, 
 archdeacons and divers doctors, with whom he talked 
 and disputed of Luther and Erasmus and the Bible till 
 they waxed wary and bore a secret grudge against Master 
 Tyndall, when he, to justify his position, began his 
 career as a translator by rendering into English the far-famed 
 *' Manual of a Christian Soldier," written by Erasmus. By this 
 means he not only defeated his opponents by showing that his 
 opinions were supported by the most distinguished scholar of 
 Europe, but also completely won over Sir John and Lady 
 Walsh to his cause, so that he secured the perfect respect and 
 protection of his patrons. But the resentment of the baffled 
 clergy was bitter. Waxing bolder, Tyndall began open-air 
 preaching on the College Green, Bristol. Without doubt, the 
 inhabitants of the western metropolis, who had given a favor- 
 able reception to the Lollards, and whose merchant princes had 
 imported unperceived the prohibited books of Luther, and 
 whose citizens were ever famous for their love of freedom and 
 fair play, if left alone would have given a devout hearing to 
 I'yndall, and would have afforded him a fine field for useful- 
 ness. But the clergy, smarting under the chagrin of their 
 recent defeat, determined to arraign and silence him. The 
 bishop of the diocese, who should have been present to p'OiVjct 
 the church against the inroads of heresy, was an absentee, living 
 
WILLIAM TYNDALL 
 
 31 
 
 a thousand miles off in Italy. Indeed it was no less a person 
 than Julio de Medici, afterward Clement VII. the Pope, to whom 
 Henry appealed in his celebrated divorce case. Cardinal 
 Wolsey farmed the bishopric, but he also was a non-resident, 
 and too deeply engrossed in matters of state just then to concern 
 himself in the squabbles of country clergymen ; so that Parker, 
 the Chancellor of the diocese, presided over the court before 
 which Tyndall had to appear on a charge of heresy. "Parker 
 was a furious bigot, so that you are prepared to hear Tyndall 
 say of him : " When I came before the Chancellor, he 
 threatentdmeand reviled me, and rated me as though I had been 
 a dog." But before that court and all the priests of the diocese 
 who were then present, Tyndall defended himself with so much 
 ability that he left the court untrammelled. But though he came 
 out uninjured, Tyndall knew that he was surrounded by the 
 most imminent danger, and that their opp^osition resulted from 
 extreme ignorance, especially of the Word of God. In his 
 perplexity, Tyndall went to consult a familiar friend, an ex- 
 Chancellor, William Latimer, to whom he frankly confessed 
 his thoughts, when the old doctor amazed him by replying : 
 " Do you not know that the Pope is the antichrist of Scrip- 
 ture ? But beware what you say, or it will cost you your life." 
 These bold words wonderfully influenced Tyndall's decision, 
 and led him to resolve on the translation of the New Testa- 
 ment into EngUsh, and he wisely resolved to translate it from the 
 original Greek rather than from the Latin Vulgate, as Wycliffe 
 had done. That decision faithfully carried out accounts for the 
 immense superiority of Tyndall's translation. In the heat of 
 controversy with certain ecclesiastics, he one day disclosed his 
 purpose in this wise: Tyndall had so cornered the learned 
 divines that they exclaimed, " We were better without God's 
 laws than the Pope's ;" when Tyndall nobly replied : " I r'efy 
 the Pope and all his laws, and if God spare my life, ere 
 
 MANY YEARS I WILL CAUSE A BOY THAT DRIVETH THE PLOW TO 
 KNOW MORE OF THE SCRIPTURES THAN THOU DOEST." This 
 
 intention, when published, made the clergy louder in their 
 charge of heresy, and more furious in their opposition, but as 
 ihe Tyndalls, his brothers and relatives, occupied an influential 
 position in the neighborhood, and evidently sympathized with 
 his views, and as he enjoyed the protection of Sir John Walsh, 
 his enemies had to move with great caution. It was evident 
 
IT 
 
 32 
 
 WILLIAM lANDALL. 
 
 " 
 
 *l. 
 
 tit' 
 
 f: 
 
 to Tyndall that a crisis was at hand, and, perfectly sensible of 
 his danger, he resolved to leave little Sodbury that he might 
 prosecute his grand purpose elsewhere. So, with the good-will 
 of his patron, he resigned his i)osition at the manor-house, 
 and left for J^ondon in 1523. 
 
 You see what it cost then for a man to have convictions 
 and be faithful to them ; it meant something more than 
 donning Sunday manners and joining the congregration 
 as a matter of custom ; it meant persecution, confis- 
 cation, social ostracism, imprisonment, torture, death. 
 Yet Tyndall, having subjected his convictions to the most 
 thorough examinations before Ciod and in the light of His 
 Word, never swerved from his great purpose. He was 
 cautious, as it became him, if he would be a successful reformer, 
 but his mind was more rapid in its movements and his decisions 
 more definite and clear than any of his cotemporaries so that 
 he acted with more boldness and originality than any other 
 English reformer. From the moment when his choice was 
 made, he gave himself without reserve to the glory of (iod in 
 working out the highest welfare of man with an energy never 
 surpassed. Henceforth he found his entire happiness in a 
 work which was one heroic sacrifice, and won him the 
 loftiest position as a benefactor of his country. 1 yndall's 
 reasons for removing to London were two : It offered greater 
 facilities for printing when the work of translation might be 
 done than any other place, and he hoped that he would find a 
 generous and sympathizing friend in Tunstal, the Bishop of 
 liOndon, who was reputed as an accomplished scholar, and the 
 friend and patron of men of learning. Alas ! he was doomed 
 to disappointment. For some time Tunstal was unapproach- 
 able through the pressure of business, and Tyndall had to wait 
 for the interview which he imagined would crown his hopes 
 with success. Meanwhile, Tyndall sought an interview with Sir 
 Harry Guildford, comptroller of the royal household, to whom 
 he liad a letter of introduction from his friend Sir John Walsh. 
 Sir Harry received him courteously, promised to speak for him 
 to Tunstal, and recommended that he should write to the 
 bishop and ask an interview. Tyndall followed this advice, and 
 took his letter to the episcopal residence. While waiting for 
 the bishop's reply, Tyndall sought employment as a preacher 
 in London, and was engaged for a short time at St. DunstanV 
 
 i 
 
WILLIAM TYNDAIL. 
 
 3.? 
 
 in-thc-West. One of his hearers at this place was Humphrey 
 Monmouth, a wealthy, generous cloth merchant, of the east of 
 London, who took a fancy to the young priest and became one 
 of his most liberal and hearty friends. He received him into 
 his home for several months, introduced him to men who knew 
 l.utlfer and the continent of Europe, afforded him the o])por- 
 tunity of conversing freely with men of learning and reforuied 
 principles, and finally aided him to leave the country. At last 
 the long anticipated interview with Tunstal took place. The 
 bishop, although a scholar beyond his times, was a cautious, 
 courtly prelate, a man of the world. His cold, reserved, 
 dignified manner repelled Tyndall, and Tyndall afterwards 
 describes him as a still Saturn. Ihe courtly bishop would 
 have readily welcomed and patronized a scholar known to 
 fame, but to aid a rude, unknown provincial was not in his 
 way. True, he admitted the scholarship of his candidate, but 
 he declined his ])ersonal protection and aid, and reminded 
 Tyndall that his house was full, so that he was debarred from 
 making his translation of the Scriptures in the palace as he had 
 hoped. Tunstal for a time forgot all about this unknown priest, 
 but Tyndall never forgot the chilling, official reserve which 
 nearly broke h s heart. But notwithstanding the succession of 
 disappointments which he exi)erienced, Tyndall's year 
 in London was a great gain to him in education and 
 acquaintance with the world and men. He had hitherto 
 known life only in the universities and in the provinces, 
 now he saw it amid the pomp and splendor of royal 
 pageantry, the intrigues and factions of statesmen, and the 
 worldliness and vanity of the heads and rulers of the church ; 
 and it may be truly said that his eyes were opened. A keen 
 observer of men and things, he was soon disenchanted of that 
 profound reverence with which hehad hitherto regarded the spir- 
 itual fathers and bishops of the church. He writes afterwards : 
 " I marked the course of the world, and beheld the pomp and 
 boasting of our prelates, and saw things whereof I defer to 
 speak at this time." This was the time v.-hen Henry \IU., the 
 most powerful of the Tudor Sovereigns, was finding his popu- 
 larity beginning to wane, owing to his extravagances. The 
 enormous accumulations of his miserly father had been spent, 
 and Henry demanded more money; so that he was compelled 
 to convene a parliament after seven years of rule without one — no 
 
34 
 
 WILLIAM TVNDALL. 
 
 / 
 
 t 
 
 ii 
 
 t 
 
 parliament having been summoned from 1 516 to 1523. Car- 
 dinal Wolsey, Henry's great minister, had exercised supreme 
 power for ten years ; but now he found himself opposed and 
 l)artially thwarted by the House of Commons, who firmly re- 
 sisted the extravagant demands of Wolsey and the king, and 
 reluctantly agreed to grant one-half of what had been demanded; 
 for which they were dissolved, not to re-assemble till the down- 
 fall of Wolsey. Discontent with the great minister was strong 
 and general — his extravagances were severely condemned, his 
 war policy opposed, the ridiculous parade of the " Field of the 
 Cloth of Gold" denounced, and nien were beginning to feel that 
 the king was misled and the nation misgoverned in the interest 
 of the church. You cannot wonder, therefore, that Tyndall 
 wrote and spoke of him as the falsest and vainest of cardinals. 
 During his stay in London Tyndall became better informed of 
 the nature and objects of the Reformation, for the works of 
 Luther had been circulated in London despite Wolsey's prohi- 
 bition and the king's vain and empty controversy with the 
 German heresiarch — for which he received the title, '' Dg- 
 fender of the Faith ^'^ diwA\k\Q. incoherent ravings of the pnlpit 
 hirelings who denounced the damnable heresy of that so-.:ailed 
 child of the devil. But still public attention was excited on the 
 matter — heretical opinions were spreading, and into that re- 
 formed faith Tyndall warmly entered. It was a hard thing for 
 Tyndall to leave his native country and go forth to face the dan- 
 gers of exile in a foreign land, yet he went, not as a craven-heart- 
 ed coward, who shrinks from honest conflict, oi as an unworthy 
 fugitive from duty, for had he been challenged, his response 
 would have been as brave and defiant as that of the great 
 Chr)'sostom, who replied to the threat of the Empress Eudoxia, 
 '''' Go tell her I fear nothitii^ but siny Yet go he must, duty 
 calls, and in the path of duty men had long ago chanted — **We 
 went through fire and through water,but Thcu broughtest us out 
 into a wealthy place ; " and he felt to ascribe strength unto 
 God, and that the God of Israel is He that giveth strength and 
 power unto His people, and God, true to Himself, never for- 
 sook His servant. He suffered the loss of all things, and passed 
 through hunger, and thirst, and cold, and deaths oft ; he wan- 
 dered destitute, afflicted, tormented ; but he came off more than 
 conqueror through Him that had loved him. 
 
 In May, 1524, Tyndall left London for Hamburg; but, 
 
WILLIAM TYXDALL 
 
 35 
 
 Car- 
 eme 
 and 
 re- 
 and 
 ded; 
 own- 
 rong 
 i, his 
 »f the 
 Ithat 
 terest 
 ^ndall 
 linals. 
 »ed of 
 ks of 
 prohi- 
 h the 
 
 pnlpit 
 ..:aUed 
 on the . 
 lat re- 
 ing for 
 le dan- 
 ■heart- 
 'orthy 
 iponse 
 great 
 idoxia, 
 duty 
 >'We 
 1 us out 
 unto 
 th and 
 for- 
 )assed 
 wan- 
 te than 
 
 ; but. 
 
 for several reasons — the chief of which was that there was no 
 l)rinting-press there at that time — he did not remain long, 
 but proceeded to Wurtemberg, the fountain-head of Lutheran- 
 ism, and henceforth Luther, not Erasmus, was to be his leader. 
 Some of Tyndall's biographers and admirers, in their zeal t » 
 maintain his originality, have denied that he ever met Luther ; 
 but this is an attempt to defend his originality at the cost of his 
 good sense. That Tyndall was as good a (Ireek scholar as 
 Luther is certain, and that he could think and speak for himself 
 even his enemies have to admit ; but that he derived some 
 assistance from Luther's (jerman translation, and from Luther's 
 conversations, is strongly probable, and that he remained at 
 A\'urtemberg,the asylum of apostates, for several months is clear. 
 Before leaving Wurtemberg, Tyndall engaged an amanuensis 
 in the person of William, or Friar, Roye, who proved a most 
 troublesome companion. " As long as he had no money," 
 Tyndall says, " I could rule him, but as soon as he got money 
 he was himself again ; " so that Tyndall was glad to get rid of 
 him as soon as his work was done. After removing from Wur- 
 temberg, Tyndall took up his abode in Cologne, and there 
 began printing his translation. Cologne was op])osed to the 
 doctrines of the Reformation ; but it had enterprising printers, 
 and Tyndall, well supi^lied with money from Humphrey Mon- 
 mouth, arranged with Quentel to print three thousand copies. 
 Everything was done to prevent suspicion, and the work was 
 progressing, when suddenly the senate of the city issued orders 
 to suspend printing, and Tyndall had to catch up what sheets 
 he could and sail up the Rhine in all haste. Unfortunately, 
 Cochleus, Dean of Frankfort, the so-called scourge of Luther, 
 was in Cologne at the time, and found out what was going 
 on, through the indiscretion of one of the printers, whom he had 
 primed with beer. 
 
 'J'yndall re-commenced the work of printing at Worms. In 
 that grand old city, famous for the heroic appearance of 
 Luther before the Imperial Diet, Tyndall found a secure ref- 
 uge, and arranged with Peter Schceffer to print six thousand 
 copies of the New Testament. Early in the year 1526 Tyndall 
 had the unspeakable satisfaction of seeing his translation of the 
 New Testament finished and printed. His feelings as that pre- 
 cious volume passed from the press it is impossible to describe. 
 His noble pledge at Sodbury had been redeemed and the great 
 
36 
 
 WILIJAM TVXDALL. 
 
 ol)jcct of his life realized. Tyndall's work was not faultless ; 
 Ills life was s|)are(l to revise and improve it ; but of that trans- 
 lation I'Youde, the historian, remarks : " We may say that it is 
 sirt)stantially the JJible with which we are all familiar. The 
 l)eculiar f,'enius which breathes through it, the mingled tender- 
 ness and majesty, the Saxon simi)li(ity, the preternatural 
 grandeur uneciualled, unapproached in the attempted improve- 
 ment of modern scholars — all are here, and bear the impress of 
 the mind of one man — William 'I'yndall." The next difficulty 
 was to convey the books to their destination. The king and Wol- 
 sey had been ajjprised of their intended imjjortation, and every 
 j)recaution was taken to prevent their introduction into Eng- 
 land. Ikit, fortunately, the zeal and enterprise of the merchants 
 who traded between the (ierman ports and London was more 
 tlian a match for the opposition of the kinj."; and clergy. A 
 large number of the New Testaments was secretly conveyed 
 to England, and by a system of coljiortage, unknown to the 
 authorities, they were widely circulated. 'I'he paj)ists were 
 enraged, and after 'I'unstal had i)reached against Tyndalls 
 version it was publicly burnt at St. Paul's ( 'ross, in October, 
 1526. It is a curious fact, and indicates how keen and thor- 
 ough was the search after the prohibited books, that only 
 three copies of this edition remain — one in the library of St. 
 Paul's Cathedral, another in the J»aptist College at Bristol, and 
 the third (a fragment) in the 15ritish Museum. At the close of 
 that year, however, another edition was printed at Antwerp by 
 the money sui)plied by the Romish clergy of England in 
 buying up the former edition. It is to the credit of the lords of 
 the renowned city of Antwerp that they defeated the efforts of 
 the English ambassador at the court of the regent, the Prin- 
 cess Margaret, to punish the printer, and to prevent further 
 printing and importation. Wolsey, by means of agents and 
 money, tried to find Tyndall's hiding-place, that he might not 
 only seize his books but also his person ; but before the Car- 
 dinal knew of it Tyndall had removed to a place of safety. 
 He went to the picturesque city of Marburg, where Philip 
 the Magnanimous, of Hesse Cassel, reigned. The Landgrave 
 having accepted the doctrines of the Reformation and protected 
 its leaders, Tyndall was apparently safe in his retreat ; and in 
 Hans Lufr, the printer of Marburg, he found one ready to aid 
 him in printing and publishing for the enlightenment of his 
 
WILLIAM LVNI'ALL 
 
 .V 
 
 L\ess ; 
 trans- 
 ; it is 
 The 
 cndcr- 
 latural 
 \prove- 
 )rcss of 
 ifiAculiy 
 id Wol- 
 .d every 
 to Kng- 
 erchanls 
 -as more 
 
 ii-gy- '\ 
 conveyed 
 
 -V to the 
 
 )ists were 
 
 TyndaUs 
 October, 
 
 land tbor- 
 
 tbat only 
 
 ^ry of St. 
 
 ristol, and 
 
 le close of 
 
 .ntwerp by 
 
 England in 
 
 he lords of 
 
 le efforts of 
 
 ;, tbe Prin- 
 
 p;nt furtber 
 
 agents and 
 
 ,e mig^t not 
 
 ,re tbe Car- 
 
 e of safety. 
 
 here VhM^ 
 Landgrave 
 
 id protected 
 •eat ; and in 
 ready to aid 
 ,ment of bis 
 
 native land. Here, too, Tyndall enjoyed the acciuaitUanc e of 
 eminent men of learninu', whom tlic lil)erality of the Land 
 grave had attracted to Marburg; though, in truth, no company 
 was so vah.iable to liim at that time as that of jolm l*'ryth, his 
 own son in the faith, from whom he learned much of the 
 condition of things at horn j and the treatment of his New 
 'lestament. Tyndall remained at Marburg nearly four years. 
 There he published the "Wicked Slammon, or, Ihe 
 Parable of the Unjust Steward " — a treatise on the doc trine 
 of justification by Faith. 'Ihis was followed by the "Obedi- 
 ence of a Christian man'' — one of Tyndall's greatest and best 
 works. In this treatise he seeks to show how Christian rulers 
 ought to govern, and how Christian subjects ought to obey. He 
 most severely exposes and condemns the usurpations o( the 
 ecclesiastical authorities, and boldly teaches two great truths, 
 which constitute the very essence of the English Reformation 
 — //it' supreme authoriiy of Scripture in the clutrch^ and the 
 supreme authority oj the king and constitution in the state. 
 To this work a strange interest attaches. It came into the 
 hands of Anne lioleyn. She read it, marked it, and gave it to 
 her imperious lover, Henry VHI. The king read it, and said 
 of it : " This book is for me and all kings to read." It led to 
 the downfall of Wolsey, and, without doubt, it helped and 
 hastened those great measures which made the reign of King 
 Henry so memorable. Tyndall, remaining true to the one 
 great object of his life, commenced a translation of the Old 
 Testament from the original Hebrew, and in 1530 printed the 
 Pentateuch at Marburg — an instalment of the grand work which 
 he was permitted almost to complete. This was followed by 
 the '• Practice of Prelates," a bitter and able work, which, like 
 all Tyndall's works, was prohibited. This work was a sort of 
 historical summary of the practices by which the pope and the 
 clergy gradually grew from poverty to universal suj^remacy, 
 and also of the practices by which this usurped authority 
 was maintained, and it concludes by a special exposition 
 of the misgovernment of England under Cardinal Wolsey. 
 In this work Tyndall writes with the boldness and fierce de- 
 nunciation of an old Hebrew seer. It stung the rulers of the 
 church to the fjuick. Sir Thomas More, the great Lord Chan- 
 cellor, now commenced a very able controversy with Tyndall 
 on this and other works— a proof that the Romish party looked 
 
38 
 
 WILLIAM TYNDALL, 
 
 ! I 
 
 1 ! 
 
 upon Tyndall as no common foe. Tyndall defended himself 
 and his works with great ability, and at the close of the cele- 
 brated controversy was evidently the victor, with truth and God 
 on his side. 
 
 Tyndall next figures as an expositor of Scripture. " It is 
 not enough," he said, " to have translated the Scriptures into 
 the common tongue, except we also bring the light to 
 understand them by, and expel the dark cloud which the hypo- 
 crites have spread over the face of Scripture to blino the true 
 meaning," These expository works, upon which he bestowed 
 much care, possessed very considerable merit. The most note- 
 worthy feature in them is the admirable good sense with which 
 he insists upon the necessity of adhering to the literal meaning 
 of Scripture, and discarding allegorical interpretations ; and we 
 think that no greater service could have been rendered to 
 theology and sound religion than by thus recalling men to the 
 only true system of exposition ; and for this Tyndall is entitled 
 to acknowledgment as the founder of a true Scriptural inter- 
 pretation in England. Some of his expositions are rather spicy. 
 On the words in Exodus, " None shall appear before me empty," 
 he says : " That is a good text for the Pope ; " and on the 
 declaration that the people brought too much, he asks : " When 
 will the Pope and clergy say that ? When they have all ! " 
 On the question of Balaam, " How can I curse whom God hath 
 not cursed?" he replies: "The Pope can tell you." 
 
 As time passed on, Tyndall's life became more unsettled, and 
 he had to work hard amid many dangers. In 1531 he was at 
 Antwerp, and though he had soon to leave, he afterward return- 
 ed thither to pursue his work, and henceforth it is in connection 
 with that city you must consider him ; for in it he more or 
 less dwelt for nearly four years, and there he published his 
 revised and final translation of the New Testament in 1534. 
 Antwerp had many attractions for Tyndall — it was near Eng- 
 land, the English merchants in the factory were friendly, and 
 the rights and privileges of the great city would shield him from 
 ordinary dangers. 
 
 Soon after removing to Antwerp an effort seems to have 
 been made by Sir Thomas Cromwell to induce Tyndall 
 to return ^o England. Cromwell, Henry's great minister 
 in succession to Wolsey, saw in the policy recommended 
 by Tyndall in the " Obedience of a Christian Man," the princi- 
 
 i I 
 
WILLIAM TVNDALL. 
 
 39 
 
 himself 
 e cele- 
 nd God 
 
 " It is 
 ires into 
 light to 
 he hypo- 
 the true 
 oestowed 
 lost note- 
 ith which 
 
 meaning 
 , ; and we 
 ndered to 
 en to the 
 is entitled 
 ural inter- 
 itherspicy.^ 
 ne empty," 
 id on the 
 " When 
 
 ave all ! " 
 God hath 
 
 sttled, and 
 I he was at 
 lard return- 
 :onnection 
 le more or 
 Dlished his 
 \t in 1 534- 
 near Eng- 
 [endly, and 
 Id him from 
 
 to have 
 
 .Q Tyndall 
 
 lat minister 
 
 :ommended 
 
 ' the princi- 
 
 ple he was rr>iois to establish as the starting-point of a new 
 political life and history for England, and he hoped to find 
 in Tyndall the assistant he afterwards found in Latimer. 
 The king could never have more than tolerated the idea. 
 Stephen Vaughan, the English ambassador to the Low 
 Countries, who was a strong friend of Cromwell, was com- 
 missioned to find Tyndall, and correspond with him with a 
 view to his return to England. From this correspondence we 
 learn much of Tyndall through Vaughan ; but Tyndall having 
 offended the king by his publishea views on the divorce, it 
 was not safe for him to return to England, and Cromwell had 
 to cease his efforts on TyndaTl's behalf. The spirit 
 of persecution still raged, and several of Tyndall's 
 friends were proceeded against and either fined or imprisoned 
 or put to death. Latimer and Lambert, among others, were 
 dragged before convocation, and forced into ignominious sub- 
 mission. Bilney was apprehended and burned at Norwich. 
 Bayfield, one of Tyndall's helpers, shared the same fate. James 
 Rainham was martyred at Smithfield, and^last of all, John Fryth, 
 Tyndall's bosom friend and helper, was seized while in England, 
 imprisoned in the Tower, and afterwards martyred by his cruel 
 persecutors. Sir Thomas More, Stokesly, Bishop of London, 
 Longland and Gardiner, were the persecutors in chief, and they 
 made most grievous Inroads upon the circle of Tyndall's friends. 
 Having had to tolerate a partial reform and humiliation from 
 the king, being forced to recognize Henry as head of the 
 church in England, they compounded for their weakness in 
 that respect by increased severity toward the heretics. But 
 things were changing. In 1533 Henry brought the divorce 
 question to an end by marrying Anne Boleyn. Sir Thomas 
 More was stripped of office, Cranmer was made Archbishop of 
 Canterbury, and some great measures were being pressed for- 
 ward, though slowly (owing to the caprice and'tyrannical temper 
 of the king), by that great statesman. Sir Thomas Cromwell. 
 During the latter part of Tyndall's residence at Antwerp, he was 
 the guest ofThos. Pontz, one of the English merchants establish- 
 ed in that great commercial city; and there, in the old mansion 
 assigned by the city magistrates to the English merchants, 
 Tyndall found a home. From Fox and Pontz we learn that 
 Tyndall's life there was singularly pure, self-denying and godly. 
 He reserved for himself two days a week for what he called 
 
40 
 
 WILLIAM TVNDALL. 
 
 pastime, which liC devoted to visiting the English refugees and 
 relieving them, and visiting the aged and poor to bless them — 
 an example of spending pastime that might be well copied to 
 advantage. The rest of his time was given to his life's mission 
 — translation. 
 
 In 1534 he re-issued the Pentateuch ; but the great 
 work of that year was the thorough revision of his New 
 Testament, and its publication, with this title : " The New 
 Testament diligently corrected and compared with the Greek, 
 by William Tyndall, and finished in the year of our Lord 1534; 
 ])rinted by Martin Lempereus in Antwerp." In this edition 
 Tyndall 's close study, great diligence and distinguished scholar- 
 ship is strikingly manifested. This has been very correctly 
 designated " Tyndall's noblest monument." To introduce it 
 into England was not difficult now. During the eight years from 
 the printing of the first edition, it had been a crime in England 
 to sell, purchase or read a copy of the New Testament, and 
 many have puid the extreme penalty for their devotion to the 
 truth ; but now the persecution was reaching its end. A revolu- 
 tion was proceeding in England that overthrew papal supremacy, 
 relaxed the laws against heretics, and permitted the private 
 circulation of the Scriptures. 
 
 Time was bringing about its revenge. Sir Thomas More, 
 the Bishop of Rochester, and others of the Romish party, were 
 thrown into the Tower and afterwards put to death. The mon- 
 asteries were suppressed, the (juarrel between Henry and the 
 Pope was irreconcilable, and the nomi?ial separation of the 
 English Church from Rome complete. Anne Boleyn, the 
 new queen, supreme in the king's affections, was favorable to 
 the reformed faith, and had interfered to protect Herman, one 
 of Tyndall's Antwerp friends, in the circulation of the New 
 Testament, for which act of royal patronage Tyndall 
 caused a copy of his revised New Testament, printed U[)on 
 vellum, and decorated and illuminated with great care and 
 taste, to be presented to the queen. That volume is 
 to-day in the British Museum, a lasting memorial of 
 Tyndall's gratitude and Anne's generous protection. It 
 was here also, at Antwerp, that Tyndall formed the acquaint- 
 ance of John Rogers, the proto-martyr of the Marian 
 persecution. Rogers became enlightened and converted under 
 1 yndall's instruction, and on him fell the honor of completing 
 
WILLIAM IVNDALL. 
 
 41 
 
 >s and 
 hem — 
 ied to 
 nission 
 
 5 great 
 lis New 
 le New 
 Greek, 
 
 rd 1534; 
 3 edition 
 i scbolar- 
 corrcctly 
 roduce it 
 ears from 
 
 England 
 lent, and 
 )n to the 
 
 A revolu- 
 upremacy, 
 le private 
 
 nas More, 
 )arty, were 
 The mon- 
 ry and the 
 )n of the 
 Joleyn, the 
 ivorable to 
 3rman, one 
 ^f the New 
 L Tyndall 
 Vmted upon 
 U care and 
 Ivolmiie is 
 emorial of 
 ction. It 
 e acquaint- 
 le Marian 
 erted under 
 completing 
 
 the work of Tyndalls life, and giving to the world after 
 Tyndall's death the last revision and translation of his great 
 master the Holy Bible. Tyndall, busy to the last, was be- 
 ginning to hope for a peaceful close to a very chequered 
 life, and after the exile of years longed to tread his 
 native soil, and witness the jrreat changes he had so much 
 helped to bring about, but the wish was never to be realized. 
 In the language of Paul to the Hebrews : " The testament 
 was not to be dedicated without blood." Antwerp, then the 
 foremost commercial city of Europe, had privileges and liber- 
 ties of which her citizens were justly proud, and in which they 
 permitted the stranger generously to share. It was among her 
 privileges that no citizen should be arrested on suspicion, or 
 detained more than three days without trial. This was well 
 known to the Romish party in England, and they assumed that 
 Tyndall was safe in the English factory at Antwerp, but if they 
 could get him outside the city, they imagined that it would be 
 easy to get him condemned as a heretic, and so a pretended 
 friend was sent to draw him out of the factory and procure 
 his arrest. The man employed and sent over from England 
 for this purpose was Henry Philips, attended by a strange 
 servant, Gabriel Dorme. The whole of this diabolical plot was 
 evidently laid in England with consummate craft and treachery. 
 The scheme has been attributed to Bishop (jardiner, but the 
 day of judgment alone will disclose the real authors of this 
 cunningly contrived baseness. Of one thing we are sure, the 
 devil presided ov^r the council, and Henry Philips executed 
 the plot. Philips formed Tyndall's acquaintance through the 
 English merchants — he professed the Reformed faith, pretend- 
 ed great respect for Tyndall, gained Tyndall's confidence, 
 shared with him the hospitalities of Pontz, and moved in and 
 out with Tyndall in the freest and most friendly manner. 
 He thus had access to Tyndall's books, became thoroughly 
 acquainted with his studies and habits, and one day when 
 t^ontz was out of the city. Philips came to the house, asked for 
 Tyndall, and said that he wished to dine with him that day. 
 Tyndall urged him to share his hospitality most readily. Philips 
 then went out to set his ofhcers and men in positions, and then 
 1 eturned to Tyndall again. He then asked of Tyndall a loan 
 of two pounds, which request was instantly granted. Taking 
 
42 
 
 WILLIAM TVNDALL. 
 
 Tyndall by the arm they left the house for a walk before dining 
 together at the house of a friend, while proceeding up a narrow 
 street PhiUps politely stepped behind Tyndall, and pointing 
 some unknown persons to him, the officers whom Philips had 
 brought from Brussels at once arrested Tyndall, and carried 
 him off a prisoner to the Castle of Vilvorde, then tne great 
 state prison ot the Low Countries. 
 
 In this ancient stronghold of Belgium, Tyndall was to remairj 
 a ])risoner for sixteen months, until death should release him 
 from his persecutors. The arrest had been so skilfully con- 
 trived, and so secretly executed, that Tyndall was immured in 
 the fortress before his arrest was known to his friends in Antwerp. 
 In vain his Antwerp friends considered themselves encroached 
 upon, and urged and pleaded for his release. The king of 
 England and Cromwell were appealed to, but the king was too 
 busy with his pleasures, and the statesman was over-burdened 
 just then with the cares of state so that they did not interpose 
 until it was too late. Tyndall had to lie in the state prison 
 without protection, notwithstanding the efforts of Pontz, the 
 result of whose unceasing labors was his own imprisonment on 
 a charge of heresy, from which however he managed to escape. 
 Tyndall's trial was considerably delayed by the difficulty of 
 procuring evidence against him, and after it did commence it 
 was much prolonged because conducted in writing. At length 
 the trial began before special commissioners nominated by the 
 llegent to try the case. There were four from the council of 
 Brabant, four local dignitaries, and four theologians from the 
 great Catholic University of Lovaine. P'oremost among 
 Tyndall's accusers was Ruwart Tapper, Chancellor of the 
 university, called the oracle of Belgium. From this bigoted, 
 intolerant inquisitor, Tyndall could expect no mercy. With 
 him was associated the celebrated Lathomus, a subtle, hard- 
 headed doctor of the schools — a man whom no antagonist 
 coi Id perplex or silence. On this apparently merciless 
 enemy, Tyndall did make a deep impression, and he died 
 regretting the part that he took against Tyndall. With 
 them the Emperor's attorney-general acted as chief pro- 
 secutor. He was very severe against heretics from a two-fold 
 motive ; by their conviction he pleased the Emperor, and he 
 shared the property of the condemned. There Tyndall stands 
 
WILLIAM TYNDALL. 
 
 43 
 
 on an elevated i)latform before his judges and accusers, and a 
 great crowd of people, pale, thin, worn— the whole scene is 
 fitted to inspire fear and terror in tne iravest heart — silence is 
 pro( laimed, then the president states the charges against the 
 accused. First. " He hadmaintainedthat faith alone justifies." 
 Second. '' That to believe in the forgiveness of sins and to em- 
 brace the mercy offered in the gospel was sufficient unto sal- 
 vation." These, and many other articles judged heretical, were 
 recited and charged against him. 'I'yndall defended himself with 
 great ability, but, according to their definition of heresy, he was a 
 lieretic. ]>ut there is a strong probability that he would have 
 been permitted to escape the extreme penalty of the law but 
 for the efforts of Philips the traitor, who was moving to and fro 
 influencing the authorities, urging on the prosecution, and using 
 P2nglish money freely to buy a verdict, which he at length 
 secured. How fearful, that one of the noblest of Englishmen, 
 who had for many years been pouring the light of his intellect, 
 the love of his heart, and the inspiration of his life into England 
 for the regeneration and salvation of his fellow-countrymen, 
 should be betrayed and hounded to death on a foreign shore by 
 well-paid spies from his own fatherland. October the sixth, 
 1536 was the day fixed for Tyndall's execution at Vilvorde. 
 He was strangled first, and burned afterwards. His last prayer 
 at the stake was for the enlightenment of the king and peop e 
 of England. To Tyndall, death came not unexpected or unwel- 
 comed. He had faced trial, fulfilled duty, served his genera- 
 tion by the will of God, and now he was ready to be offered. 
 Girded for the glorious dismissal, to him the chariot of fire was 
 the chariot of glory, and the gate of death, the gate of heaven. 
 The question may be urged, Why all this labor, and suffering, 
 and sacrifice for the Bible ? What is there in the Bible to 
 render it so important and precious to mankind ? Our answer 
 is : — The Biule is the Word of God — the one rule of faith, 
 and practice for the world-man's true, sufficient, complete guide 
 through life to immortality. Its grand, its distinguishing fea- 
 ture is its CERTAINTY ; its voice is, " Thus saith the Lord." 
 Above its Author there is no one, and therefore from it there 
 can be no appeal. It is the word of Him that liveth and abid- 
 eth forever, so that when we take up the Bible we commune 
 with one whose mind never varies, and whose words never pass 
 
44 
 
 WILLIAM TYNDALL. 
 
 Ill 
 
 ifi.l 
 
 j'l 
 )8J 
 
 away. Consequently no Bible student need wait for the light 
 of philosophy, or the confirmation of science, or the deliverance 
 of the church, or a voice from heaven ; when he wants to know 
 the mind of God, he has only to open this book and there it is 
 clear and perfect. The Bible as a revelation does not reveal 
 everything that some would like to know, but, though a limited 
 revelation, it is sufficient. It reveals all that we need know in 
 order to secure the Divine favor now, and the Divine home 
 hereafter. It tells how and by whom we were redeemed — it 
 tells us how we may receive Jesus and have power to become 
 the sons of God. There is no model of excellence or good- 
 ness to which sanctified ambition can aspire that it does not 
 present the ideal of. I know that it is very plain spoken, and 
 oftimes says unpalatable truth that men hate as they do an 
 honest friend, but if we are candid and sincere it is the book we 
 need. When the learned and godly Selden lay dying, he said : 
 " I have surveyed much learning and my study is filled with 
 books and manuscripts, but there is only one sentence of 
 one book on which I can now rest — ' The grace of God 
 that bringeth salvation hath appeared unto all men."* 
 When a man comes to die and fears to enter the unknown 
 land, if he follows this book he will find a skillful pilot, and a 
 safe passage. On the brink he may address his revealed friend, 
 *• Blessed one wilt thou receive me ?' and the response shall be : 
 "To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise." " And wilt thou 
 take care of my body ?" " Yes, and I will raise it up at the 
 last day." "And wilt thou take charge of my dependent 
 ones ?" " Yes, let thy little ones trust in me and I will keep 
 them alive." And with such a solace, to die is but to fall 
 asleep in the arms of God. Oh, cling to the grand old book — 
 the Bible ; it has often been in the furnace, but to come forth as 
 gold ; the waves of controversy have beaten against it, but it 
 has dashed them back in harmless spray. Science flushed 
 with new discoveries has assailed it, but when full grown it will 
 apologize, and believe, and adore. There never was such a 
 book as the Bible, and there never will be such another. Un- 
 like all others, independent of all others, above all others, it is 
 a peer in the realms of literature. The Bible has taken a 
 greater hold on the world than all other books and writings. 
 It is the pioneer of progress, of knowledge, of civilization, of 
 
 \ 
 
WILLIAM TYNDALL. 
 
 i light 
 
 erance 
 
 ) know 
 
 re it is 
 reveal 
 
 limited 
 
 now in 
 
 i home 
 
 ned— it 
 
 become 
 
 )r good- 
 
 oes not 
 
 :en, and 
 
 y do an 
 
 book we 
 
 he said : 
 
 led with 
 
 tence of 
 of God 
 
 I men."* 
 
 unknown 
 
 ot, and a 
 
 ed friend, 
 shall be : 
 wilt thou 
 up at the 
 ependent 
 will keep 
 ut to fall 
 d book — 
 .e forth as 
 
 It it, but it 
 
 le flushed 
 >wn it will 
 as such a 
 Iher. Un- 
 ithers, it is 
 ,s taken a 
 writings. 
 Ilization, of 
 
 45 
 
 true culture, of liberty, of spiritual and perfected manhood, and 
 the world will never outgrow its need of the Bible, until that 
 day when the Lord God and the Lamb shall become their 
 light and their sah ation, whom this book hath led through the 
 wilderness into the celestial city. 
 
 •" 
 
 \ 
 
I 
 
 ': It 
 I i 1 
 
 III 
 
 ill 
 
 LECTURE III. 
 
 OLIVER CROMWELL & HIS TIMES. 
 
 EFORE the Christian era, and even in the earlier 
 ^^^centuries of the Christian era, to mark a prominent 
 "rtfy^name or page in English history was impossible. 
 England had no history or man before the world. Then to 
 have put your finger on a name or a nation of power, you must 
 have gone to Egypt, with its colossal pyramids ; or Nineveh, 
 like another Layard, and read its inscriptions of chiselled 
 history ; or to Babylon, the seat of luxury and splendor ; or to 
 Tyre, the old world's seat of commerce; or to Greece, the 
 schopl of art and science ; or to Rome, the centre of millitary 
 glory and renown. There is an unquestionable exaggeration 
 in the earliest descriptions of the ancient Briton, but the mildest 
 and most truthful deleniation must present you with a very 
 strange and unlovely character. We shall not attempt to give 
 you any of the exaggerated statements, so gravely affirmed by 
 earlier historians, respecting the character and doings of the 
 ancient Briton. It is enough to say that there was nothing at 
 that time to indicate that Britain would ever rise from her de- 
 graded state to sit as an umpire among the nations, or become 
 the incomparable maritime power and centre of influence which 
 she is to-day. But just as some of the noblest rivers, which 
 spread fertility over continents, and bear richly laden fleets to 
 the sea, have sprung from barren mountain tracts or moorland 
 wastes, where the foot of the explorer rarely visits, and where 
 even the tears of rushes are acceptable tributes, so from the 
 barbarous race of Britons of earlier times has arisen the glorious 
 Britannia of to-day. There is nothing in common between tha 
 
AND HIS TIMES. 
 
 47 
 
 ecome 
 which 
 which 
 ets ta 
 orland 
 where 
 
 Bn the 
 orieus 
 en tht 
 
 savage Hriton of the past and the polished and accomphshed 
 EngHshman of to-day. The trace of successive epochs is dis- 
 cernible only in an entirely altered man. In the seventh century 
 the first of a long series of salutary revolutions occurred. 
 Ancient Briton amid a surging tempest is entombed, and Eng- 
 land appears with its fair and valiant Saxon race nominally con- 
 verted to Christianity ; though unfortunately the Church which 
 had converted her had lost too much of the spirit and simplicity 
 and power of the Apostolic Church, and had admitted too much 
 of Cirecian dogma and Pagan right. England was now admitted 
 into the federation of Papal Rome, and received some advantages 
 from the connection. In the nmtli century began the invasion 
 of the heroic, but ferocious Dane. The same atrocities which had 
 attended the victory of the Saxons over the Celt marred the vic- 
 tories of the Dane over the Saxon. Civilization paused for six 
 generations^ while these hostile tribes so keenly fought. At length 
 a better understanding was come to, and some prospect of peace 
 was seen when the Normans, then the foremost race of Christen- 
 dom, invaded the English soil, fought the battle of Hastings, 
 and became masters of the kingdom. During the first hundred 
 }ears after the Conquest, the proud and gifted Norman was at 
 continual feud with the Saxon, until one of the ablest kings 
 wooed an English princess, and another, driven from his 
 Norman home, made the adopted land his country, and inter- 
 marriage became common between the two races. Thus, in 
 the thirteenth century, were blended together the four 
 elements of the nation, and its nationality began. And by 
 that mixture of three Ttutonic tribes^ grafted on the stock of the 
 ancient Briton, was formed a people inferior to none in the 
 world. Then commenced the History 0/ the English nation ; 
 for then appeared the Magna Charta, the basis of the famous 
 English constitution, the parent and model of many of the 
 Jree constitutions of the world to-day. I'hen came the House 
 of Commons, with its representative assembly. Then was 
 formed the famous English language, and with it appeared the 
 earliest dawn of English literature ; then learning followed in its 
 track, and such a page ol history can never be forgotten. The 
 school of Greece, the invention of printing, the great Refor- 
 mation, are not greater powers in history than the Charta of 
 England. But not less famous were the times of the seventeenth 
 
48 
 
 OLIVER CROMWELL 
 
 n 
 
 century, when, after a terrible struggle and a grand revolution, 
 despotisini was dethroned, and civil and religious freedom estab- 
 lished throughout the IJritish Empire, under the leadership of 
 Oliver Cromwell. 
 
 Born in the town of Huntingdon, the capital of the county 
 of that name in England, of a middle class ftimily, just as the 
 sixteenth century was about to retire with its famous records 
 into the lap of the sevenfee?it/iy Oliver Cromwell was only soon 
 enough to claim the sixteenth as his century of advent. There 
 was nothing in his extraction, or birth, or apperance to indicate 
 his coming greatness. No legendary tale, or wizard charm, or 
 mixture of royal blood assisted him to distinction. He had 
 to fight his own battles, and to take charge of his own reputation, 
 and such was his age and country that it took upwards ol forty 
 ytars^ with all its strange education and discipline, to bring him 
 into bold and prominent relief, and only the last sixteen were 
 his years of distinction and fame. But his first forty-three years, 
 from 1599 to 1642, were years of strange history and experience. 
 Just briefly review them. Elizabeth was on the British throne 
 endeavouring to control elements and men, not the most easy 
 to manage. The more stormful events of her reign — internal 
 conspiracies, the massacre of the Huguenots, the Spanish 
 Armada —had passed into history, and Elizabeth was now seek- 
 ing to settle the civil and ecclssiastical quarrels of her people. 
 Her father, Henry VHI, had made her the custodian of a 
 most anomolous Church. Henry attempted and in part suc- 
 ceeded in forming an Anglican Church, differing from the 
 Roman Catholic, chiefly on the point of supremacy ; the king 
 instead of the pope was to be the temporal and spiritual head ; 
 though one could wish for the reputation of the Church itself 
 that a purer motive had been the instigator than the divorce of 
 Catherine of Arragon for the marriage of Anne Boleyn,and that 
 the man who laised his commanding voice to teach a nation how 
 to worship, and what to believe, had at least been a mem- 
 ber of Christ's Church, which we fear Henry never was. 
 Henry's chief adviser in this particular work was Thomas 
 Cranmer, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. As a statesman 
 and divine, composed of the most singular idiosyncrasies 
 of character, he was to well fitted to draw up the terms of coali- 
 tion upon which that Church was based. Of Cranmer we can- 
 
AND HIS TIMES. 
 
 49 
 
 not speak in the laudatory terms that some have done. He 
 was not so bad as some of his enemies would have us think, 
 but he was never wortiiy of a place in the canon of saints or 
 catalogue of martyrs. 'I'his strange Church, which Edward 
 <lid not live long enough to reform, and which the cruel and 
 bloody Mary sought in vain to shatter, Elizabeth took to her 
 bosom and sought to i)rop and perfect ; but at the close of her 
 reign she had no small difficulty in tiding this State Church ship 
 over the breakers. To the truly Protestant party, anxious for a 
 simple, disrobed, Scriptural worship, the Anglician Church 
 was not far enough removed from Antichrist and the Vatican. 
 This reforming ])arty, though embracing a galaxy of the most 
 glorious names in English history, were opposed and persecuted 
 until the party became a sect known in history as the Puritans. 
 With an influential number in the House of Commons and a 
 powerful party in the country, these Puritans asked and urged 
 reforms after the type of Marty n Luther and John Calvin. In 
 the midst of the struggle good (^ueen Bess closed her glorious 
 reign, and be(iueathed her sceptre to another. James Stewart, 
 king of Scotland, as the lineal heir, ascended the throne of 
 England. That year, 1603, is a memorable epoch in English 
 history. Scotland and Ireland became a part of the British 
 monarchy, and for the first time all the isles of Britain were 
 peacefully united under one sceptre. The mixture was peculi ir; 
 there was the Englishman, who finds his contentment in gnanblin^^ 
 the Scotchman who finds his home abroad, and the Irishman who 
 finds his peace in a good fight. This kingdom was nearly double 
 in size, but James, the first of the ill-fated Stuarts, was not the 
 man for the crisis. In his own opinion he was one of the greatest 
 kings that ever lived, but he was in truth a man wholly unfit- 
 ted to occupy a throne. The English people had been gov- 
 erned for the last one hundred and fifty years by princes of 
 great force of character, who had always been feared, if not 
 loved. But now England had a king whom she despised. 
 His ungainly figure, stammering speech, cowardly tears, and 
 broad Scotch accent were imperfections which perhaps he 
 could not help, but their effect was to make the modern 
 Solomon to be held in contempt. But the preten- 
 sions he put forth were monstrous — such as even Henry 
 VIII. never dreamed of asserting. His assumptions were 
 
50 
 
 OLIVKR CRO.MWKLL 
 
 il 
 
 ; I 
 
 . 
 
 cncoura^'ed and sustained by the novel theory of Fihiier on 
 hereditary monan^hy. 'i'his tlieory, whicli James so firmly 
 believed, helped him to some of his most despotic acts. He 
 told the parliament that they held their privileges merely at hin 
 pleasure, that law was simply a concession of his, and that they 
 had no more right to (juesiion his acts than the works of (lod. 
 'J 'he parliament was enraged and alarmed, wliile the religious, 
 discussions became more decided and fierce. James was a 
 zealous Ejjiscopalian, and as a conse(iuence the Anglican clergy 
 become more pretentious. In imitation of Rome they made 
 the divine origin of Episcopacy one of their vital dogmas. 
 They also revived such practices as saint worship, celibacy, 
 monasteries — to the scandal of J^rotestantism— and offered 
 every form of opposition to J^uritanic reforms. At this junc- 
 ture James died, and Charles I. ascended the throne. Charles 
 had a better understanding and a firmer will, and was a 
 superior man to his father. His person was dignified, his taster 
 good, and his domestic life unblemished ; but he had faults» 
 neither few nor small. He was a deceiver, and a despot to 
 perfection. He seems to have had a fixed hatred of liberty^ 
 and most unscrupulously sought its destruction. He would 
 readily promise, and then with impudence break his word 
 without a blush. A more dangerous enemy to the English 
 constitution, or one who more resolutely sought its destruc- 
 tion, than Charles, never sat upon a throne. He inherited his 
 father's political and ecclesiastical theories, and was anxious to 
 carry them into effect. 
 
 Now commenced the hazardous game on which was staked 
 the destinies of the English people. The parliament moved 
 with great wisdom, and moderation, and self-possession, and 
 the king found he must govern in harmony with law, or be 
 perfectly defiant. His fatal choice was soon made. Dis- 
 solving parliament he levied taxes by his own authority, then 
 convoked a second parliament and again dissolved it, and 
 raised fresh taxes, and thrust soldiers on the people to 
 maintain, and set up martial law in the land, in direct 
 violation of the constitutional principles, which taught that 
 the king could not legislate, or suspend a law, or impose 
 taxes without the consent of his parliament The king called 
 a third parliament. In this assembly Oliver Cromwell, as a 
 
AND HIS TIMF.s. 
 
 5« 
 
 ner on 
 firmly 
 i. He 
 ^ at his 
 at they 
 f Ciod. 
 iligious. 
 was a 
 I clergy 
 ^ made 
 [ogmas. 
 slibacy» 
 offered 
 s junc- 
 Charles 
 was a 
 is tastciv 
 1 faults, 
 jspot ta 
 liberty^ 
 I would 
 word 
 nglisU 
 destruc- 
 ited his 
 icious to 
 
 staked 
 moved 
 on, and 
 r, or be 
 . Dis~ 
 y, then 
 it, and 
 pie ta 
 
 direct 
 Iht that 
 [impose 
 
 called 
 111, as a 
 
 mcmbuf for Huntingdon, was for the first time found. This 
 ho ise the king found more than ever ojjposed to his despoti' 
 scliemes. CMianging his t;u tiru, the king agreed to a compro- 
 mise, and after exacting his subsidies as llie price of purchase, 
 he signed, amid the rejoicings of the nation, the second Charta 
 of English freedom, The PKirrioN oi kicinis. He thus 
 bound himself not to imprison, or raise money, but in due 
 course of law. Hut in three weeks tlie truthless king openly 
 violated the charter. The parliament was dissolved ; the 
 I hiefs of tiie Opposition cast into prison to languish for years 
 untried, or to tlie martyrs to the cause, as in the case of Elliot, 
 or to endure the mutilations and inflictions of the notorious 
 courts of the dav, and for eleven years parliament was not 
 again convoked, an event unprecedented in English history. 
 I'or this the king was chietly to blame. It is true he called 
 to his aid sycophants who .shared his guilt, such as Wentworth, 
 afterwards Earl of StrafTord, the cruel, the elofjucnt, theunprin^ 
 1 ijilcd, the despotic author of the deeply meditated scheme of 
 *' Tliorou^hy^ who, with dauntless resolution, and unspar- 
 ing severity, went forth to fulfill the king's behests^ 
 and employed all his powers to crush the liberty of tho 
 nation. His correspondence clearly proves that a govern- 
 ment without i)arlianients — a government by the sword of 
 the most fierce and arbitrary and absolute nature, was his 
 desire and intention ; and with Strafford was Laud, the 
 Archbishop of Canterbury. No face could more strikingly 
 indicate the character of the man to whom it belonged than 
 that of Laud's, as portrayed by the most skilfull hand of that 
 age. The mean forehead, the pinched features, the cunning 
 eyes, the tight skin, suit admirably all that history saith 
 about that ignorant and peevish despot. When we read his 
 judgments against separatists, when we turn over the leaves of 
 his diary and learn how jealous, how superstitious he was, we 
 feel for him a contempt that even the sacredness of his. 
 office cannot prevent. He says he dreamed that he had turned 
 Papist — a dream we suspect that was too true if the word 
 " turned " be left out ; and with them was Finch, the recreant 
 judge who so deeply disgraced his ermine. To carry out their 
 scheme of civil and ecclesiastical tyranny, the Star Chamber- 
 and High Commission — names of hale and cruelty — were re- 
 
-^1 
 
 h 
 
 il 
 
 I M 
 
 =ji 
 
 <•;,■ 
 
 53 
 
 OLIVER CROMWELL 
 
 vived, the liberties of the nation were imperilled ; many began 
 lo look across the ocean to America, whose inhospitable soil a 
 few resolute Puritans had sought to conquer and convert into 
 a new world. And among the number who actually took pas- 
 sage and went on board the ship destined for America was 
 Oliver Cromwell, with his cousin, John Hampden, when an 
 Order of Council prohibited the ship from sailing, so that the 
 intending emigrants were compelled to remain, and return to 
 their homes. But at this crisis an act of insane bigotry changed 
 the whole face of affairs. Charles and Laud determined to 
 force on the Scotch Presbyterians Anglican Episcopacy, show- 
 ing that they wished the Anglican Church as the major sect on 
 British soil toassume the same ecclesiastical positon as Rome had 
 previously assumed on a larger geographical surface. But the 
 vScotch, who had bearded the Stuart's before, did not yield a 
 ready compliance with the king's wish, but of set purpose op- 
 posed it. National and religous feeling was aroused ; the first 
 intonation of the liturgy produced a riot, which soon spread 
 into a revolution and a war. No resource was now left to the 
 king but a parliament, and in the spring of 1640 it was called. 
 In it Cromwell sat as a member for Cambridge. This House, 
 according to the testimony of Clarendon himself, was temperate 
 and respectful lo the throne. But as soon as they began to 
 consider the grievances of the past they were dissolved with 
 •every mark of royal displeasure. As soon as the king had dis- 
 solved the House he repented of his rashness ; and well he 
 might, for the vessel was full, and the last drop had made the 
 waters of bitterness to overflow. A few months more of tyranny, 
 and insult, and evasion, and despotism, and Charles, without 
 money or credit, was forced to face his insulted Commons, and 
 convene the ever memorable Long Parliament, On the 3rd of 
 November, 1640, met that great parliament, destined to every 
 •extreme of fortune — to empire and to servitude, to glory and 
 to shame, at one time the sovereign of its sovereign, and at an- 
 other time the servant of its servant. But notwithstanding its 
 errors and mistakes, it deserves the lasting gratitude of the 
 nation. Among the most distinguished members of that House 
 were Edward Hyde (afterwards Lord Clarendon), Faulkland, 
 Digby, Harry Vane, Oliver St. John, Hollis, Fiennes, Oliver 
 Cromwell, John Pym, and John Hampden. By universal con- 
 
AND HIS TIMES. 
 
 53 
 
 sent, Hampden held the first place in parliament, and was 
 unanimously chosen leader. Abuse after abuse vanished with 
 united voice, the Star Chamber and High Commision ceased 
 only as things of infamous memory. Strafford was impeached, 
 and afterwards attainted by bill, and executed. Laud was flung 
 into the Tower to die. Finch barely escaped by flight. All 
 those whom the king had employed as instruments of oppres- 
 sion were summoned to answer for their conduct. The king 
 was deprived of those oppressive p nvers which were the last 
 relics of feiiJal fimes. and the parliament provided that it should 
 not be aga;:: piorogued or dissolved without its own consent. 
 Even the strongest Royalists allow that most of the measures 
 passed were salutary and necessary. Its good acts greatly pre- 
 ponderated over the evil. After ten months of hard work the 
 House adjourned for six weeks, and on its reassembling two 
 parties first appeared, styled Cavaliers and Roundheads ; they 
 are now better known as Conservatives and Liberals. You 
 cannot speak in un(iualified praise or censure of either party. 
 A reaction had evidently taken place during the recess. A 
 large body of moderate and well-meaning men, who had heartily 
 concurred in the strong measures already adopted, were now in- 
 clined to pause. Their opinion was that a great reform had been 
 necessary, but that a great reform had been made, and that the 
 grievances of the nation had been fully redressed. A direct 
 collision soon took ])lace between the two parties into which the 
 House was now divided. The opponents of the government, 
 led by Hampden, moved that celebrated address to the king, 
 which is known as the Grand Remonstranxe. In this address 
 all theoppressive acts of the precec'ing fifteen years were fully set 
 forth, and the king was entreated to employ no ministers 
 in whom the parliament could not confide. What they really 
 asked for was a responsible Ministry. The debate was long 
 and stormy, and in a House of three hundred, the remonstrance 
 was carried by a small majority of nine votes. So surely did 
 the reaction appear to have set in, that Oliver Cromwell and 
 others openly declared their old resolution of leaving the 
 kingdom if left in a minority on the question of the remon- 
 strance. Charles had now a last chance of regaining the affec- 
 tions of his people. Without sacrificing any part of his lawful 
 prerogative, or submitting to any conditions inconsistent with. 
 
•rmmmmmmmmit 
 
 il^fi 
 
 54 
 
 OLIVER CROMWELL 
 
 bis dignity, by choosing the path of moderation and wisdom, 
 he might have been again the powerful and respected king of 
 a free people. For a short time he seemed to take a wise and 
 tem])erate course. He promised to govern in harmony with 
 the Commons, and to summon around him trustworthy and 
 moderate leaders. Tiiis resolution, had he adhered to it, 
 would have averted the years of bloodshed and mourning that 
 followed. But in a few days the deceitful king mocked his 
 friends and enraged his enemies by impeaching the leaders 
 of the Opposition. On the third of January, 1642, with- 
 out giving the slightest hint of his intention to those advisers 
 whom he had solemnly promised to consult, he sent down the 
 Attorney-General to impeach Hampden, Pym, HoUis, Hasel- 
 rig, and Stroud at the bar of the House of Lords, on a charge 
 of high treason. These men were charged with what Puritan 
 historians have never sought to deny — with having negotiated 
 with the Scotch when they previously entered England in arms. 
 These leading statesmen of the constitutional party knew that 
 the Scotch and themselves were engaged in a similar struggle 
 with one and the same tyranny, and therefore they became 
 friends. But Charles, burning with eagerness to strike down 
 the popular leaders and their cause, snatched at the formal 
 treason, and determined to arrest the leaders. There was a 
 legal method by which to proceed, but this he did not take. The 
 arrest of the members by violence was apprehended, and the 
 House petitioned the king for a guard. Me sent them this as- 
 suratice : '* We do engage unto you' solemnly the word of a 
 king that the security of all and every one of you from violence 
 is, and shall ever be, as much our care as the preservation of 
 our children." At the very time, however, when he was giving 
 this assurance, the king was illegally prosecuting the members 
 in the House of Lords. He next sent a message to the 
 Speaker of the House of Commons, ordering him to arrest the 
 five members and send them to him. .The House deputed 
 four of its number to wait upon Charles, stating that his mes- 
 sage affected the privilege of parliament, but expressly promised 
 that the five members would be ready to answer any legal 
 charge laid against them. Charles then sent an officer to seal 
 up the lodgings and trunks of the accused mf ibers, and the 
 Commons sent their sergeant to break the seals. The tyrant 
 
AND HIS 11 MRS. 
 
 55 
 
 wisdom, 
 
 king of 
 wise and 
 ony with 
 thy and 
 d to it, 
 ling that 
 eked his 
 
 leaders 
 .2, with- 
 advisers 
 [own the 
 ;, Hasel- 
 a charge 
 
 Puritan 
 gotiated 
 in arras, 
 [lew that 
 struggle 
 became 
 :e down 
 
 formal 
 was a 
 The 
 and the 
 this as- 
 rd of a 
 aolence 
 ation of 
 
 giving 
 embers 
 to the 
 
 est the 
 leputed 
 
 is mes- 
 omised 
 
 J legal 
 
 to seal 
 ind the 
 
 tyrant 
 
 resolved to follow up one outrage by another. He resolved 
 to go to the House in person, with an armed force, and seize 
 the leaders of the Opposition while discharging their parlia- 
 mentary duties. That day (the fourth of January, 1642,) is 
 ever memorable in the annals of England. Between one and 
 two o'clock that day the king came hurrying into the House at 
 the head of a tumultuary force of some hundreds of his guards 
 and attendants, armed with swords and pistols. Lady 
 Carlisle conveyed intelligence of the king's design to Pym, 
 so that the five members had time to withdraw. They left 
 the ■ House as Charles entered the palace yard. The king 
 knocked and entered in company with the Prince Palatine, 
 his swordsmen staring in after him from the door. The 
 members rose and uncovered as he walked up the floor. 
 As the king stepped towards the chair. Speaker Lenthall 
 stepped forth to meet him. After a pause the king said : 
 " Gentlemen, I am sorry for this occasion of coming to you. 
 Yesterday I sent a Sergeant-at-Arms upon a very important 
 occasion, to apprehend some that by my command were 
 accused of high treason, whereunto I did expect obedience, 
 and not a message." After some more words he asked the 
 Speaker whether the five were in the House. I^enthall with 
 great address dropped on his knees and said : " May it 
 please your majesty, I have neither eyes to see nor tongue to 
 speak in this place but as the House is pleased to direct me, 
 and I beg your majesty's pardon that I cannot give any 
 other answer than this to what your majesty is pleased to 
 demand of me." The king said sharply that "he had as 
 good eyes as another's," and commenced looking around the 
 House for them. Finding that they had vanished, he ex- 
 claimed that "the birds had flown," and commanding the 
 House to send them, marched out in a huff. As he passed 
 along the benches, several members shouted " Privilege ! 
 Privilege ."' It has never been seriously questioned that this 
 attempt to arrest the five members was one of the most insolently 
 tyrannical acts ever performed by an English sovereign. The 
 transaction was illegal from beginning to end — the impeach- 
 ment was illegal, the process was illegal, the service was illegal. 
 There is not a doubt but that this attempt to seize the five members 
 7c>as the real cause of the zi<ar. Every eye could see it ; every 
 
•i' 
 
 1. 1 
 
 I 
 
 I- .' 
 
 f 
 
 ! Mil 
 
 . |.l 
 
 56 
 
 OLIVER CROMWELL 
 
 brain could appreciate it. It acted as an electric shock on the 
 l)eople of England. London rose round the parliament, 
 receiving the House for a week into the city, and then when 
 the Commons resumed sittings at '.Vestminster, encircled them 
 with 100,000 armed men, while 4000 Buckinghamshire farmers 
 galloped into town to defend their noble representative, John 
 Hampden. From that moment the carriage of Hampden and 
 the Opposition became fiercer and more decided. Charles left 
 London never again to return till the day of reckoning came, 
 a negotiation lasting over several months was opened. Every 
 l)roposed reform the king would promise to fulfill. But a 
 tyrant whose whole life was a lie, who hated the constitution 
 that he had sworn to defend, could not be trusted. He un- 
 questionably looked forward to absolute sway and a bloody 
 revenge, anr' therefore it would have been sheer madness to 
 trust him again. Royalists were now compelled to choose 
 between the king and the parliament, and they accepted the 
 king. In August, 1462, the sword was drawn, the civil war 
 commenced, and two hostile armies appeared on English soil, 
 Charles still had a strong party in the country. His 
 august ofifice, his dignified manner, his solemn protestations 
 that he would for time to come respect the constitution, pity 
 for fallen greatness, a fear of democratic innovations, secured 
 for him many adherents. The Church, the majority of the 
 nobles and landed gentry, and most of the gay and dissolute 
 youths of the age gathered around the royal standard. On 
 the other side was the great body of the middle classes of 
 England. The Earl of Essex was appointed to tlie command 
 of the Parliamentary army ; Hampden took a colonel's 
 command. No member of his party showed more energy 
 and vigor in arms, or made himself more thoroughly master 
 of his military duty, than Hampden. His regiment was con- 
 sidered the best in the service of the parliament. He un- 
 cjuestionably possessed the qualities of a great general as well 
 as a great statesman, but unfortunately his military situation 
 was subordinate, and his military career short. Had his life 
 been spared there is every reason to believe that John Hamp- 
 den would have been the Lord High Protecter of England ; 
 but in facing the fiery cavalry of Rupert he was mortally 
 wounded, and soon after died in great peace. It is a grievoujj^ 
 
AND HIS TIMES. 
 
 57 
 
 i on the 
 liament, 
 m when 
 ed them 
 farmers 
 t^e, John 
 den and 
 arles left 
 ig came. 
 Every 
 But a 
 stitution 
 He un- 
 , bloody 
 dness to 
 I choose 
 pted the 
 civil war 
 ;lish soil, 
 ry. His 
 estations 
 ion, pity 
 secured 
 of the 
 issolute 
 id. On 
 lasses of 
 mmand 
 olonel's 
 energy 
 master 
 ^as con- 
 He Un- 
 as well 
 Situation 
 his life 
 Hamp- 
 igland ; 
 nortally 
 trievous. 
 
 thing in a struggle for principle to be cursed with a halfhearted 
 commander. At first the success was with the armies of 
 Charles ; his troops and officers were by far the best, while the 
 Earl of Essex was not the man to meet the fiery and daring 
 Rupert. When the war had lasted a year, the Royalists had 
 gained several battles, taken Bristol, the second city of the 
 kingdom, and not sustained one serious defeat ; while some of 
 the Parliamentary leaders had passed away, and others became 
 cold or recreant. Pym had passed amid honors to the grave^ 
 and Hampden had gone home to receive the victor's crown. 
 At this critical moment Oliver Cromwell stepped forth with a 
 hero's courage, a man's resolution, a martyr's constancy, a 
 patriot's heart; he offered his services in the country's de- 
 fence. He saw and suggested the point of weakness and 
 defeat ; he proposed to recofistnict the army and raise men of an- 
 other sort. He went through the Eastern Counties, calling on 
 young men of known piety to join the army. He soon organized 
 and disciplined the whole army. Essex was then removed, 
 Fairfax was made nominal chief, but Oliver Cromwell was real 
 head and director. 
 
 Now, look at Cromwell as a Soldier and a General, with 
 his motto : ** Trust tn God, and keep your pounder dry ." I shall 
 not attempt to compare Cromwell with such commanders as 
 Alexander, or Caesar, or Charlemagne, or Napoleon, or Welling- 
 ton, or Von Moltke, for he, unlike them, had never been train- 
 ed to the art of war. Cromwell passed his youth, and the prime 
 of his manhood, in a civil station. He never looked on war 
 till he was more than forty years old. He had first to form him- 
 self, and then to form his army. Cromwell was emphati- 
 cally a man ; he possessed in an eminent degree that 
 masculine and full-grown robustedness of mind that 
 is so characteristic of English great men. Out of his 
 raw levies he created an army, the bravest and best dis- 
 ciplined, the most orderly in peace, and the most terrible in war 
 that Europe had ever seen, and he led it from conquest to con- 
 quest. He never fought a battle without gaining a victory ; he 
 never gained a victory without annihilating the force opposed to 
 him. Yet his triumphs were not the higiiest glory of his military 
 system. The respect which his troops paid to property, to law, 
 to religion, to temperance, to industry, are without a parallel, 
 
'tf 
 
 58 
 
 OLIVER CROMWELL 
 
 I 
 
 I . ••• 
 
 ' f- 
 
 li 
 
 I I' 
 
 >\ 
 
 rjf 
 
 and are the finest expression of the spirit infused into them by 
 their great leader. His first great battle with the Royalists 
 occurred at Marston Moor. Oliver's victory was complete and 
 decisive. It was speedily followed by Naseby, the battle of the 
 mountain plain, in which, according to Lord Clarendon, both 
 king and kingdom were lost. The victory for the Parliamentary 
 cause was decisive, and for the Royalists the defeat was fatal. 
 Then came the capture of Bristol and other triumphs in swift 
 succession, but in every victory Cromwell ascribed all the glory 
 to God. The authority of parliament became fully established 
 throughout the kingdom. Charles fled to the Scotch, by whom 
 he was afterwards surrendered to the Englisli. The king was 
 treated with respect and deference. Cromwell and others hoped 
 he would in the day of adversity consider, and yet learn to rule 
 for the public good. To this end Cromwell and Ireton often 
 conversed with him, but he encouraged and deceived them. In 
 a secret letter to his friends, which Cromwell intercepted, the 
 king said: "Be quite easy about all the concessions I am making ; 
 when the time comes, instead of the order of the Garter, I will 
 give Cromwell a rope." All hope of an arrangement was now 
 gone; it would be insane to attempt to trust the king. The 
 parliament therefore resolved to settle the kingdom without 
 him. The Scotch, with whom Charles was in secret treaty, 
 proffered help. A coalition was formed between the 
 Royalists, the Scotch and the Levellers. Alarm spread, 
 the storm bur^t, and Norfolk, Suffolk, Kent, Wales, and 
 Scotland were under arms, while many of the Lords and 
 Commons viewed this rising with secret favor. Cromwell 
 and the leaders of his army met at Windsor, and spent three 
 days in meditation and prayer for divine guidance. How seldom 
 do generals thus seek counsel of God I Who can doubt the 
 sincerity and uprightness of such men ? Cromwell retired daily 
 to pray, and some who pried into his retirement saw him in 
 agony and tears. , He ever sought wisdom from above, spent 
 much time in prayer before an action, fought with a Scripture 
 truth on his lips, and never failed to thank God for his success. 
 The meeting at Windsor led to immediate preparation against 
 Charles and his adherents. While Fairfax crushed the rising 
 near the metropolis, Cromwell with his army proceeded to Wales, 
 and having routed tlieir army, and demolished their castles, he 
 
 ,:,a 
 
 
 
1 
 
 t 
 
 ANI> HI> riMKS. 
 
 hem by 
 Loyalists 
 ete and 
 ie of the 
 )n, both 
 mentary 
 as fatal, 
 in swift 
 he glory 
 tablished 
 3y whom 
 cing was 
 :rs hoped 
 n to rule 
 on often 
 lem. In 
 ^ted, the 
 making ; 
 er, I will 
 was now 
 The 
 without 
 t treaty, 
 een the 
 spread, 
 les, and 
 rds and 
 Iromwell 
 nt three 
 kv seldom 
 oubt the 
 jred daily 
 liim in 
 e, spent 
 cripture 
 success, 
 against 
 e rising 
 o Wales, 
 .sties, he 
 
 If 
 
 59 
 
 proceeded to the north of England, met the Scottish troops un- 
 der the Duke of Hamilton, and fought a desperate battle. Oliver's 
 men were few compared to them, but the Royal army was 
 utterly destroyed. Cromwell then (lifltered Scotland. Edin- 
 burgh opeiicd its gates to receive him, and after making impor- 
 tant changes in the Scottish government, Oliver, more than ever 
 the idol of his soldiers, returned in triumph to London. 
 
 Then commenced the trial of the captive king. A special 
 tribunal of one hundred and fijty members was proposed, and one- 
 hundred and thirty appointed by parliament for that purpose, and 
 by this tribunal he was condemned to die as^ traitor and a pub- 
 lic enemy. 1 know the justness of this sentence has been loudly 
 condenmed. I do not api)rove ofthatact upon two grounds : ist, 
 no man should take uiuay lite, and therefore I condemn it in com- 
 mon with all executions as a relic of barbarism that should not 
 be perpetrated under the Christian era ; 2nd, T/iat sentence laas 
 impolitic and a great mistake. But so far as the deserts of the king 
 are concerned,if a king who favored the massacre of one thousand 
 Protestants in Ireland to please a Papist wife (and the rebels de- 
 clared that they acted under the command of the king as well as 
 the c[ueen) — if a king whose life was an intrigue and a despotic 
 endeavor to crush his nation's freedom — if a king who broke 
 his coronation oath — if a king whose history is a disgrace to the 
 name of a sovereign was worthy of his sentence, that was Charles 
 Stuart. Those who condemn the sentence, cast the odium on 
 Oliver Cromwell ; that, to say the least, is false. Cromwell 
 was appointed one of his judges, but he refused to act. Ac- 
 cording to Burnet, he was all the time in suspense. When the 
 Prince of \\'ales wrote to him to save the king's life, he 
 replied : " I have prayed with fasting to know God's will." 
 The royal trial commenced without his knowledge \ Crom- 
 well sought to mediate between the king and parliament, 
 and he only abandoned the position when branded as a traitor 
 by his own camp. On the day of execution an eager and 
 excited crowd gathered in front of Whitehall, waiting the fatal 
 moment. Four hours passed while Oliver prays for wisdom 
 to decide as in God's sight alone. At length he consents to 
 that death as necessary and just. At the hour of three Charles 
 api)ears in front of his banqueting hall, and with calm dignity 
 waits the fatal act. The moment he was beheaded the mob 
 
'f 
 
 60 
 
 OLIVER CROMWELL 
 
 I I 
 
 take up a lamentation, the tyrant becomes a martyr^ and the 
 habitual liar is canonized^ until, after two centuries, enlightened 
 public opinion has expunged the name from the Anglican 
 Book of Common Prayer, and compelled a correction of the 
 muster roll of martyrology, " for a lying tongue shall not pros- 
 per." Ireland now claimed immediate attention. The rising 
 of the Romanists had left the country in a fearful state. The 
 Protestants were terribly assailed, and driven from their homes 
 in mid-winter, while their property was destroyed, their families 
 murdered, and their blood shed in horrid sacrifice. The 
 nation had received 2i fearful baptism of blood, Cromwell was 
 requested to quell the insurrection. He felt the task to be a 
 very difficult one, but he accepted it in full reliance on God 
 for help. On reaching Ireland he summoned those who were 
 in arms to surrender, and deemed it necessary to be severe 
 towards all who refused. Everything yielded to the vigor and 
 ability of Cromwell. In a few months Ireland was subdu d, 
 and the trancjuility and prosperity that followed awakened uni- 
 versal wonder. To all but the most daring he was very lenient, 
 and while using the sword to suppress rebellion, he never 
 molested the Romish priesthood. He once replied by letter 
 to a manifesto of the Romish bishops, pointing out the differ- 
 ence between Christ and the priests. From Ireland the vic- 
 torious chief returned to Scotland. The Scotch having invited 
 over Charles, the son of the late king, who gave every reason 
 to expect that he would tread in his father's footsteps if he 
 could reach his father's throne, Cromwell tried in vain to con- 
 vince the Scotch of their error by a friendly letter. The 
 Scotch army was tfte best ever raised in Scotland, and twice as 
 numerous as the English. Oliver and his men spent a day in 
 fasting and prayer before entering the engagement. The next 
 day they fought the fierce and bloody battle of Dunbar, and 
 Oliver gained a complete victory. Charles left Scotland and 
 marched to Worcester, and Cromwell followed him, gaining his 
 crowning victory, and crushing the military force of the king. 
 Charles fled for his life, and with extreme difficulty escaped the 
 fate'^of his father. England was now declared a Common- 
 wealth. \ 
 
 You have now to look at Cromwell as a Statesman and 
 Lord High Protector. While Cromwell and the army were 
 
AND HIS TIMKS. 
 
 6l 
 
 id the 
 htened 
 iglican 
 of the 
 )t pros- 
 ; rising 
 . The 
 homes 
 "amilies 
 . The 
 ^ell was 
 :o be a 
 Dn God 
 10 were 
 severe 
 yoT and 
 ibdu d, 
 led uiii- 
 lenient, 
 e never 
 letter 
 differ- 
 the vic- 
 invited 
 reason 
 ►s if he 
 to con- 
 The 
 wice as 
 day in 
 Ihe next 
 jar, and 
 Ind and 
 ling his 
 le king. 
 )ed the 
 
 )MMON- 
 
 ln and 
 ly were 
 
 absent in Ireland and, Scotland, the Presbyterians, having the 
 chief place in parliament, resolved on becoming the National 
 Church. They therefore hurried through parliament a most 
 oppressive act, decreeing that persons denying eight doctrines 
 should be imprisoned, and if found guilty be handed over to the 
 tender mercies of the hangman ; and persons holding other 
 views, such as the Baptists and Quakers, were to be imprisoned 
 till they gave up their views ; so that every man not a Presby- 
 terian, was to be imprisoned, banished, or pat to death. How 
 humiliating to our common Christianity that one sect should 
 persecute another — that men who have just escaped the fnrnace 
 should make power the instrument of still stronger oppression ! 
 But no impartial historian in recording the history of the Church 
 since the second century can fail to note that the animating law 
 of the dominant section in every period has been the enforce- 
 ment by penalty of a uniform faith. Calvin raised no voice in 
 the Geneva Council against the sentence of Servetus. The 
 Pilgrim Fathers, in their New England home, drove the Quakers 
 further into the forest. Persecution generates persecution. 
 Oh, what wars have been waged, and cities sacked, and lives 
 massacred, in the judgment of the perpetrators for the glory of 
 God ! And in this day the Roundhead searched wood and 
 mansion for the fugitive and wanderer, and refused to listen to 
 Sorrow's imploring cry : " I myself also am a man." But such 
 a state of law could not last. England too deeply detested 
 ecclesiastical serfdom. Britain's domestic poet has told the 
 heart-feeling of her truest sons : 
 
 Place me where winter breathes its keenest air, 
 
 And I will siug, if Liberty be there ; 
 
 Ani I will sing at Liberty's dear feet 
 
 In Afric's ton id clime, or India's fiercest heat. 
 
 In the army, where many of the adherents of the newly 
 formed sect of Independents, with whom Cromwell himself 
 was joined, who disliked the Papacy, Prelacy, and Presbyterian- 
 ism, and would not appeal to the "Court of Arches" sooner than 
 to the Vatican. There were also Baptists in the army who held 
 to the view that Christ alone is the Head of the Church. Crom- 
 well demanded of the parliament liberty of conscience and worships 
 without which all other liberties are valueless, and he would not 
 submit to the penal inflictions that had just passed the House. 
 
1 
 
 62 
 
 OI.IVKR CROMWF.I.I, 
 
 The free toleration of all Christians beinsr the character of the 
 army, they thought it hard to be punished by the I'resbyterians 
 — whose battles they had fought — on account of religious differ- 
 ences, and agreed not to lay down their arms until they had 
 secured freedom of worship by legal settlement. The Presby- 
 terians raised troops to enforce their measures, but at the ap- 
 proach of Cromwell's army they soon disbanded, and Cromwell 
 at length secured a law abolishing all statutes of penalty for non- 
 conformity in religion, thus inau<^uratin^i;; the triumph of religious 
 freedom m England. Jt mattered little to Oliver that the Pres- 
 byterians preached against him ; his political views remained 
 unchanged. On the influence of Cromwell and the army, the 
 preservation of religious liberty still depended. The parliament 
 wished the army disbanded ; but their pay was in arrears, and, 
 as tneir liberty and life were at stake, they resolved not to dis- 
 band until they were paid in full. Parliament also wished to 
 perpetuate its power. They had sat a long time, and there was 
 no king to dissolve them ; but Cromwell, at the instigation of 
 the army, closed the House and locked the door. A parliament 
 must now be chosen, but, with the feeling that existed between 
 the Presbyterians and Episcopalians, it was feared that an appeal 
 to the country could not be made without war. In the extrem- 
 ity the officers took an unwarrantable step, nominating, through 
 Cromwell, their chief, a hundred and forty men to settle the 
 supreme government. This parliament soon resigned its un- 
 constitutional power to Cromwell. Oliver then drew up a plan 
 of government conforming to the old English constitution, only, 
 at the suggestion of his party, the term " King" was omitted 
 and " Lord High Protector" substituted. Cromwell then be- 
 came the electoral chief of the English Commonwealth, and on 
 the j/aV<'^«/'// of December, 1653, he was solemnly installed at 
 Westminister Ha'l, having a robe of purple, a sword of state, 
 and a richly-bound Bible. Cromwell was induced to take this 
 position that the ends of liberty and religion might be answered. 
 In what manner he discharged the high position history can 
 testify. He reformed the House of Commons, extended the 
 franchise, corrected the vices of the old representative system, 
 and abolished many of the worst statutes that existed, and in- 
 deed, so far-seeing and liberal was his policy, that after the re- 
 action of the restored Stuarts, it has taken more than two- 
 
AND HIS IIMF.S. 
 
 63 
 
 of the 
 yterians 
 IS differ- 
 ley had 
 Presby- 
 the ap- 
 romwell 
 for non- 
 religious 
 he Pres- 
 emained 
 rmy, the 
 rliament 
 irs, and, 
 to dis- 
 shed to 
 here was 
 jation of 
 irliament 
 between 
 n appeal 
 : extrem- 
 through 
 ettle the 
 its un- 
 a plan 
 n, only, 
 omitted 
 hen be- 
 and on 
 tailed at 
 f state, 
 ake this 
 swered. 
 lory can 
 ed the 
 system, 
 and in- 
 the re- 
 an two- 
 
 hundred years, and the unrivalled powers of Pitt, and I 'eel, and 
 Russell, and Gladstone, to bring the representative system of 
 England uj) to what it was under the ("ommonwealih. Under 
 Cromwell, England was safe and hapj^y. Property was secure, 
 laws were observed, and religion tolerated, ^^'hilst in the midst 
 of his greatness, he manifested the most sterling humility. The 
 cup which has intoxicated so many sobered him. I le had noth- 
 ing in common with those men, who distinguished themselves 
 in lower posts, and whose incapacity becomes so manifest when 
 they are summoned to lead. Rapidly as his fortunes grew, his 
 mind expanded more rapidly still. Cromwell, by the confession 
 even of his enemies, exhibited a simple, natural noblenes, and 
 was neither ashamed of his origin, nor vain of his elevation. 
 Born to command, when he reached his proper place he felt 
 quite at ease, because competent to fill it. Nor did Cromwell 
 ever sacrifice the nation's interests for his own. He gave away to 
 charitable purposes about^?'/>' thousa?id pounds a year from hisown 
 private purse. Not one penny of the public money ever went to 
 the enrichment of his family. He simply left to them the estates 
 he inherited before reaching the Protectorate. He regarded 
 principle before place, or wealth, or power, and would never sell 
 his manhood for gold or glory. The Protector's foreign policy 
 was as distinguished and successful as his domestic. After 
 half a century, during which England had been degraded and 
 powerless, and the ship of state was well nigh wrecked 
 under Stuart pilots, it once more rose to the first rank of 
 European nations. Blake, though not one with Cromwell 
 in policy, he readily encouraged and helped to secure the em- 
 pire of 
 foe man 
 
 the seas, while Cromwell vancjuished every boasting 
 who dared encounter his 
 
 glittering 
 
 universally acknowledged as the head of 
 
 steel, 
 the 
 
 He was 
 Protestant 
 
 interest, and dictated terms of peace to the world. The Pied- 
 montese and Waldenses in their Alpine hamlets and valleys were 
 ■secured from oppression by the terror of that great name. The 
 Pope himself, for once, was compelled to preach humanity and 
 moderation ; for a voice which never threatened in vain had 
 proclaimed that unless favor was shown to the people of God, 
 the boom of the English cannon would be heard in the castle 
 of St. Angelo. Cromwell, the Protector, and England under 
 the Commonwealth, were objects of universal admiration or 
 
64 
 
 OLIVER CROMWELL 
 
 1/ 
 
 I ' :l 
 
 hi 
 
 [|i' 
 
 
 
 r 
 
 dread. The British soldier never turned his back on a foe- 
 man, but fought his way to victory in every field of strife. The 
 triumph of the Stuarts would have been the ascendancy of 
 Papacy. Cromwell was the obstacle specially raised of God in 
 the 17th century to check the efforts of civil despotism, and 
 the encroachments of the Church of Rome. I do not attempt 
 to conceal that Cromwell was greatly helped by his distinguish- 
 ed contemporaries. There was Milton, his Secretary of State, 
 the literary champion of the Commonwealth, and the greatest 
 ' creative genius of his age, whose poems are unrivalled, with a 
 galaxy of hardly lesss conspicuous names. 
 
 Look at Cromwell, though it must be too briefly, as a Chris- 
 tian. In the private walks of life he was not less honorable and 
 consistent than in his public career. It is too seldom that great 
 men are Christians ; Cromwell was both. His i)iety was the 
 chief secret of his greatness and success. Soundly converted 
 soon after his marriage, he lived a Christian life for upwards of 
 thirty years. Amid privation or prosperity, the field of battle or 
 the closet, in the throne room of empire, surrounded by his 
 Cabinet, or in the quietude of his own fami'y, he was the same 
 unfaltering saint of the Most High God. His worth as a 
 Christian was most regarded by those who knew him best. His 
 letters to his relatives and family breathe a tender and heavenly 
 frame of soul. Many have grossly misrepresented him, and 
 sought to blacken his name, for aspersion and reproach are the 
 world's sorry trade in men that are better than they ; yet truth 
 and merit are at last beginning to prevail, and his goodness to 
 be acknowledged. Oliver certainly passed "the wicket gate" on 
 his way to the Cross, with a pale face, and feeble step, and 
 shattered frame, and a heavy heart, while a physician was 
 sent for at midnight by those who knew not the nature of his 
 disease. But ere the physician arrived, one look to Jesus had 
 made him every whit whole ; and by means of the new life 
 within, he rose above surrounding evil, despite his morbid tem- 
 perament and many-sided and tried career, closed his pil- 
 grimage with joy. God's glory being his life's purpose, his last 
 moments were lit up with its hmbent flame. The ^/ii'rd of 
 September, 1658— the anniversary of his great victories of Dun- 
 bar and Worcester — has again arrived. There must be festive 
 glee to celebrate events so grand ; the whole nation must hold 
 
AND MIS TIMES. 
 
 65 
 
 as a 
 His 
 avenly 
 and 
 ire the 
 truth 
 ess to 
 te" on 
 and 
 was 
 of his 
 had 
 life 
 tem- 
 is pil- 
 ls last 
 'd of 
 Dun- 
 stive 
 hold 
 
 high holiday to-diy, but hush ! Knglands great uncrowned 
 king lies upon his dying bed. He is to gain the grandest of all 
 his victories to-day. He speaks of the covenant of grace as 
 faithful and true, and confesses that faith in Jesus is his only 
 hope. Speaking softly, he says : " I am the vilest of sinners, 
 but Jesus fills my soul with assurance and love." Then a last 
 look of wife and children, he whispered : " Feed, feast on 
 the covenant" Then came the measured beats, while in great 
 serenity of soul, as if the unruffled peace of the wavelesss sea 
 was imaged there, he eyed the home above, and with his sorrows 
 closed, his conflicts past, his heart (juiet in the calm, measured 
 beats of Heaven, he became more than conqueror through Him 
 that had loved him. When it was known that Cromwell was 
 dead, Amsterdam was illuminated, as for a great deliverance; 
 while children ran through the streets shouting : " The devil 
 is dead ! " and Rome again began to breathe out threatenings 
 and slaughter. But England, with another feeling, amid great 
 and widespread lamentation, laid the coffined remains, amid 
 funeral pomp and ceremony such as London had never seen 
 before, among her greatest and proudest sons in Westminster 
 Abbey. True, his body was afterwards taken up by the 
 revengeful Charles, to the disgrace of our humanity, and gib- 
 , betted, and exposed to the gaze, and shout, and scoff of a 
 fickle mob ; but the name and memory of the Protector live yet, 
 and will in the future receive that meed of praise which they so 
 justly deserve. Not only bronze statues, but a grate- 
 ful nation, shall hold it in everlasting remembrance. 
 Cromwell's ability, and talents, and courage, and impartial 
 justice, and profound religiousness were but very imperfectly 
 understood by the best men of his own times. Some, who 
 worked with him in the field and in the state, suspected him 
 often, and so only gave him the cold support and halting ser- 
 vice that jealousy and misunderstanding give He had to 
 plead with some of his own friends to trust him honestly, and 
 go forward with him to the great work of his life. His success 
 in war, in discipline, in government, all could see, but to 
 account for it was to many very perplexing ; they had not the 
 key to his life and character. His prayers before a battle were 
 to him a duty — a necessity, if he were to succeed. His charg- 
 ing an enemy with fierce desperation on the field of battle^ 
 
rf 
 
 66 
 
 OLIVER CROMWELL AND HIS TIMES. 
 
 while a Scripture passage flows from his h*ps to inspire his own 
 and his comrades' confidence was to him a consistent way of 
 acknowledging the God of battles. His thanksgiving after a 
 victory was to him a dutiful expression of Cxod's guardianship 
 amid the dangers of the field and the hail of death. But to 
 those who never thought of God, but only of armies, and disci- 
 pline, and equipment, and military skill, this was an insoluble 
 mystery. But the generation who followed him, after the re- 
 storation of the profligate and despotic court, with its greedy 
 and selfish ministers and favorites, with its bribed parliaments 
 and intolerant Church, accused Cromwell of selfish ambition, 
 and duplicity, and hypocricy, and coarseness, and in- 
 numerable other evils. But you may charitably conclude that 
 this mis-statement and villification is the joint product of hat- 
 red and ignorance. Corrupt men in a corrupt age could not 
 understand a man who lived, as seeing Him that is invisible ; 
 without God themselves, and buried beneath waves of pesti- 
 lental vices, to them a man who lived by faith was an inexplic- 
 able mystery. You cannot wonder, therefore, that he was be- 
 lied, and misrepresented and caricatured by his biographers 
 and historians, living in such an age, and blinded by such an 
 atmosphere. But in spite of all mis-statement, and misunder- 
 standing, Cromwell lived and acted during the whole of his 
 public life, as one responsible and accountable to God ; and 
 belief in an invisible, omnipotent, ever present Being was the 
 secret of his endurance, and fidelity, and success. In that faith 
 he lived, labored, triumphed, and is crowned forever. 
 
 •■ 
 
 I 
 
LECTURE lY. 
 
 THE SCOTTISH COVENANTERS. 
 
 GOTLAND is sea-girt, save its southern boundary, where 
 it is separated from England by the Cheviot hills and 
 the river Tweed ; it is of an oblong shape and irregular 
 (5^ surface. Its length from north to south is two hundred 
 and eighty miles ; breadth from one hundred and seventy-five 
 to thirty miles ; and estimated area, including the Islands, 
 upwards of thirty thousand square miles. Its population is less 
 than four millions, though you cannot correctly say their num- 
 ber, for many of them, after the manner of Scotchmen, travel 
 southward in early life to find wider scope for their enterprise 
 than the country of their fatherland can yield. By means of 
 that barren and lofty mountain range, the Grampian hills, 
 Scotland is divided into two districts — the Highlands and the 
 Lowlands. The ancient name of Scotland was Caledonia, and 
 its original inhabitants Celtic, speaking Gaelic, the mother 
 tongue of the Celt. Its present name was given it by the 
 Scoti, a powerful, warlike tribe from Ireland, who invaded it in 
 the fifth century, subdued the Picts and natives, and became 
 masters ot the scene, until the devastating wars with England 
 in the twelfth century, and the defeat of William, the Lion, 
 which for a time placed the independence of the kingdom in 
 other hands. Norman and Saxon barons then took up their 
 residence in the country, and many of the toiling classes of the 
 English mingled freely with the inhabitants of the Lowlands, 
 until the Teutons predominated in the south, and the Celtic blood 
 and Cicelic tongue were compelled to restrict their home to the 
 Highlands. Intimacy was more or less preserved between the 
 
68 
 
 THL SCOTTISH COVENANTERS. 
 
 
 ii:- 
 
 two nations until, in sixteen hundred and three, they were 
 merged into one — the British kingdom. This brief sketch 
 of land and history I have presented that you may be the more 
 familiar with the country and tribes of whom I speak. It is 
 strangely true that, with rare exceptions, if you want to find the 
 muster roll of heroes — those who have carved out names for 
 themselves, the prouder because self-won, philosophers, his- 
 torians, statesmen, essayists, poets, orators — you must not go to 
 the equator, and burn under a tropical sun, or linger in the 
 rich and fertile tropic ; but go rather to the northern regions, 
 where a healthier atmosphere, a stubborn soil, and a howling 
 winter compel men to be braver and more self-relying. Scot- 
 land is a confirmation of this rule, and oatmeal, though by 
 some deemed a meagre banquet, has thickened into a muscle, 
 bone, and brain of which any nation might be justly proud. 
 There is one conviction I want to carry into the study of this 
 and all history, that God is the cetitral fact of history ; therefore 
 it is neither right nor wise to ignore Him when we open its 
 archives. Just as one cannot have a true conception of the 
 grandeur and magnitude- of a landscape, who has examined it 
 only in the glimmer of a lamp, so that Atheist can have no 
 clear knowledge of history who has not allowed the sun of hea- 
 ven to shine upon it, kindling all its events, small or great, into 
 sublime significance. It is when you see God in history that 
 epochs are n j longer marked by the troubled glare of battle, or 
 successive mastery of thrones, or the barbaric civilization of 
 conquest ; but by the moulding of that national character, and 
 growth of that personal manhood which aid the purposes of the 
 the Divine. It is when you see God in history that the pealing 
 storm, and crushing tempest, and the wildest panic are trans- 
 formed into a holy temple, when the trembling worshippers 
 adore in silence ; for the Lord reigneth, and kings become his 
 servants, and growing nations his expanded smile, and dwind- 
 ling empires his darkening frown, the universe his footstool, 
 and heaven itself but a flash of his benignant eye, and the 
 world moves along its course to that finish that shall yet chal- 
 lenge every critic's eye — either to vindicate or assail — the queen 
 of wondering planets. 
 
 The history of the Scottish Covenanters bears date from 
 1648 to 1688, a brief half a century. But correctly to under- 
 
THF, -COITISH COVENANTERS. 
 
 69 
 
 were 
 sketch 
 ; more 
 It is 
 nd the 
 les for 
 s, his- 
 t go to 
 in the 
 egions, 
 owling 
 Scot- 
 igh by 
 nuscle, 
 proud, 
 of this 
 lerefore 
 ipen its 
 of the 
 ined it 
 ave no 
 of hea- 
 ■t, into 
 |ry that 
 ttle, or 
 ion of 
 r, and 
 of the 
 eahng 
 trans- 
 dippers 
 lie his 
 Iwind- 
 Itstooly 
 Id the 
 chal- 
 Iqueen 
 
 from 
 Under- 
 
 stand the principles of that struggle, we must go back to an 
 earlier date, and hurriedly glance at the years from the estab- 
 lishment of PROTKSTANTisNf, and the holding of the first 
 General Assembly of the Church of Scotland in 1560. Some 
 Scottish historians have taken much pains to prove Presby- 
 terianism an heirlooom of the Culdees, their earliest Christian 
 sect, so as to show that with them it was not a novel theory of 
 recent growth, but a form of Church government which they 
 had inherited from their first acquaintance with Christianity. I 
 do not wish to say that there is no force in the arguments 
 employed, for manifestly there was in the religion of the 
 Culdees the germ of the Christianity of Scotland to-day. But 
 I wish to discourage any attempt to look back for the truth of 
 a religion, so as to see by how many removes it has come from 
 an apostle's lips or pen. We should rather Xodk within , and 
 see if it wears the credentials of Divinity. Truer far is that 
 which is of yesterday, if it has the seal of Heaven, than that 
 which is of centuries, if it is simply old. Protestantism did not 
 gain its ascendency in Scotland in the sixteenth century with- 
 out a fierce and protracted struggle. Romanism had too long 
 held its sway to yield an easy victory. Nowhere throughout 
 the Western Church had the Papacy grown to a greater power 
 than in ScotHnd. Superstition and imposture of the grossest 
 type gained a ready ear among a rude and ignorant people, and 
 by means of them the clergy attained an exorbitant degree of 
 opulence and power. Full one-half of the nation's wealth 
 belonged to them. Bishops and abbots rivalled the first nobility 
 in magnificence, and preceded them in honors. A vacant 
 bishopric called forth powerful competitors, and sometimes 
 weapons of war, while inferior benefices were openly put up for 
 sale. The life of the clergy was a scandal upon religion, and an 
 outrage on decency. With such weapons Rome waged war 
 against the first Reformation of Scotland. But notwithstand- 
 ing her fierce persecution and many martyrs, numbering 
 among them such royal youths of princely blood, and princelier 
 soul, as Patrick Hamilton, Jirst Scottish tnartyr, and the 
 accomplished George Wishart and Robert Mill, and other 
 famous names, and though the weapons of persecution were 
 swayed by the cruel, revengeful Cardinal Beaton, yet the 
 light of the Reformation continued to spread, until the 
 
1 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 . 
 
 
 it 
 
 / 
 
 i' 
 
 
 t 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 I t 
 
 70 
 
 THE SCOTTISH COVENAN 1 LRS. 
 
 Papacy was abolished, and Protestantism, as by act of par- 
 liament, became the established religion of Scotland. But 
 after gaining this victory, Protestantism had to struggle hard 
 and long against terrible odds to preserve its life and assert its 
 supremacy. The l*apacy, true to itself, died hard. In that 
 year, 1560, Francis, the young, sickly, imbecile king of France 
 and Scotland, the husband of Mary Queen of Scots, died, and 
 Mary, whose power was at once lost at the French court, 
 desired to return to Scotland, and in the following August she 
 returned to Holyrood House, amid loyal demonstrations. 
 Mary was a woman of great personal beauty, brilliant wit, 
 winsome smile, piercing eye, proud manner, inflexible will, and 
 bigotted mind. She was of bad blood on her mother's side, 
 being of the House of Guise, the chief actors in the Black 
 Bartholomew of France. She had also been educated in France 
 under her uncle, a devoted l^apist, and was reminded by him 
 that the glory of her reign would be to restore her native king- 
 dom to its former obedience to the Papal sway. . To the fulfill- 
 ment of this scheme she consecrated her power, and influence, 
 and life, with the most determined pertinacity, until a succession 
 of ill fortune terminated in a tragic end. ^lary found, notwith- 
 standing her duplicity and craft, that she had men to contend 
 with among the Scottish Reformers. Foremost among the 
 nobility was her brother, the Earl of Murray, a man of unim- 
 peachable character, wise statesmanship, and fervent piety, who 
 was so upright and impartial as to win the title of the OooD 
 Regent before he fell by the assassin's hand. The foremost 
 among the clergy, indeed, the man of his age, was John Knox, 
 the great Scottish Reformer. 'J'o him the Reformation owed 
 much of birth and being, and to him it looked in infant day? for 
 counsel and defence, and in a time of a strange and general 
 faithlessness he was never recreant to his duty. 
 
 Trained for the priesthood, he was well accjuainted with the 
 arts of Rome. He was a man of powerful mind, keen insight, 
 determined will, elocjuent tongue, and fearless heroism. He 
 was admired and hated by his enemies, feared by the queen 
 more than than ten thousand armed men, as the only man she 
 could never move by the strange witchery of her beauty and 
 smile. Regarded by the daring, unjjrincipled Morton as he 
 who never feared the face of man, Knox was a tower of strength 
 
THE SCOTllSH COVENANTl.RS. 
 
 of par- 
 id. But 
 ^le hard 
 issert its 
 In that 
 if France 
 lied, and 
 h court, 
 gust she 
 itrations. 
 iant wit, 
 will, and 
 t's side, 
 he Black 
 n France 
 1 by him 
 Live king- 
 he fulfiU- 
 nfluence, 
 accession 
 notwith- 
 contend 
 ong the 
 if unim- 
 ety, who 
 e ClooD 
 Iforemost 
 Knox, 
 n owed 
 day? for 
 general 
 
 Iwith the 
 
 insight, 
 
 He 
 
 queen 
 
 tan she 
 
 ity and 
 
 as he 
 
 strength 
 
 to the Reformed Church. Mary found, after se7en years oi 
 severe struggle, that Protestantism was the established religion 
 of Scotland, and she, as the reward of her bigotry and her sins, 
 had to abdicate the throne, and go into exile. The next twenty- 
 five years of the Church's history, until the establishment of 
 Tresbyterianism, in 1592, were marked by fierce conflict between 
 EnscoPACV and tlie Presbytery, each striving for the mastery. 
 To the unprincipled and covetous nobility, who alternately 
 held sway during the minority of James, Prelacy was a more 
 pliable thing than Presbyterianism. The Presbytery |)leaded 
 that the ecclesiastical revenues taken from the disestablished 
 Church of Rome should be applied to the support of the min- 
 istry, the promotion of learning, and the relief of the poor ; but 
 the nobility, eager to grasp it for themselves, devised the 
 order of Telchax Bishops— a term taken from the Highland 
 custom of placing a 'I'elchan, or calf-skin stuffed with straw, 
 before the cow to induce her to give her milk. As was to be 
 expected, against this servile and degrading order of things the 
 most godly ministers protested, claimed that no man should be 
 called a bishop to exercise lordsnip over God's heritage, and 
 that no men should be admitted to the ministry but such as 
 commended themselves by their learning and piety to the 
 Assembly of the Church. Foremost among the contending 
 ministers was Andrew Melville, a man small in stature, but great 
 in learning, skilled in debate, and dauntless in spirit— a worthy 
 successor of John Knox, whose spirit and mantle he had 
 caug' . But for a time Epi'^copacy had sway, and it was not 
 until the close of a keen conflict, in which excellent men were 
 imprisoned or banished, that what is called the Great Charter 
 OF the Scottish Church was secured, and Preshyterianism 
 became the established religion of Scotland, with the gifted 
 Robert Bruce as Moderator of the first General Assembly, liut 
 the Presbytery were not long permitted to enjoy this supremacy 
 unopposed. The king, James VL, was an unprincipled despot, 
 the articles of whose creed were absolutism, and the Royal pre- 
 rogative. From him the l^resbytery experienced at first a cold 
 friendship, and then open hostility. A Popish conspiracy, to 
 which James lent too much sympathy, was the earliest opposer 
 of the Presbytery. Then Episcopacy, in a modified shape, was 
 introduced, and, by tlie king's intrigue,after ten years established 
 
i '1 « 
 
 ; , f 
 
 'it '■ 
 
 I i ! 
 
 Ir 
 
 
 
 I ) 
 
 i 1 
 
 I 
 
 ' I 
 
 7a 
 
 THC SCOTTISH COVENANTERS. 
 
 The General Assembly of 1602 was the last Free Assembly 
 recognized by the Scottish Church until 1638. Jame's favorite 
 aphorism, " A'b bishop no king^" and his avowed preference for 
 Prelacy was partially founded in a desire to please the dominant 
 sect of England, whose throne ha had united with his own, as 
 the righttul heir of both. Prelacy being established^ and de- 
 clared the third estate of the realm, sought to sustain its position, 
 and accomplished its purpose by acts of intolerance and cruelty. 
 The Court of High Commission, which had the infamous 
 distinction of uniting the terrors of civil and ecclesiastical des- 
 potism, was set up under the presidency of Archbishop Spots- 
 wood, a man too well fitted to wield the double sword. The 
 sufferings inflicted by this notorious court on the most gifted 
 and faithful ministers of the land increased the most popular 
 detestation of the prelatic system, until a deep, irresistable 
 under-current was formed^ and burst forth in all its wild gran- 
 deur at the signing of the national coifenant. That day affords 
 one of the most sublime moral spectacles history has chronicled. 
 Charles, the king, in conjunction with the peevish, semi-Popish 
 Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury, and the fanatical bishops of 
 the North, hastened the crisis by commanding the use of the 
 Anglican liturgy in the Scottish Church. On the Sabbath the 
 liturgy was first read, the Scotch, who viewed it as an unlawful 
 innovation on their rights of conscience, assembled in vast 
 numbers to the Cathedral Church of Edinburgh to oppose the 
 matter. When the officiating dean began the service, Janet 
 Cieddes shouted : "Villian, durst thou say mass at my lug ?" 
 and tossed her stool at his head. Instantly the crowd shouted : 
 " A Papist, Antichrist," and broke up the service. That un- 
 premeditated riot soon became a revolution. To crush this in 
 his anger, and enforce the liturgy on the people y the king sent his 
 commissioner, Tranquar, armed with despotic power, to coerce 
 the people. Oh, that men would remember that banded armies, 
 cruel battles, and the tortures of tyranny never advance the 
 kingdom of Christ ! Christianity is a spiritual kingdom, and 
 no carnal weapons glitter in her armory ; and to all her zeal- 
 ous but mistaken friends who would battle for her by means of 
 the sword, or cannon, or prison, she speaks the rebuke of the 
 Master : " Put up thy sword into the sheath again, for they that 
 take the sword shall perish with the sword." Christianity came 
 
 I 
 
THE SCOTTISH COVENANTERS. 
 
 73 
 
 \ssembly 
 5 favorite 
 rence for 
 dominant 
 i own, as 
 and de- 
 > position, 
 d cruelty, 
 infamous 
 tical des- 
 )p Spots- 
 .rd. The 
 3St gifted 
 t popular 
 rresistable 
 wild gran- 
 ly affords 
 hronicled. 
 mi-Popish 
 )ishops of 
 ise of the 
 bbath the 
 unlawful 
 in vast 
 ipose the 
 e, Janet 
 iy lug ?" 
 shouted : 
 That un- 
 h this in 
 sent his 
 to coerce 
 armies, 
 mce the 
 )m, and 
 ler zeal- 
 leans of 
 of the 
 they that 
 lity came 
 
 to unite, not estrange ; to soothe, not to sour ; to give peace, 
 not war ; to bring life, not death ; and you cannot do it a great- 
 er injustice than to make it an arena of political parti/anship. 
 To preserve their lives and liberties, the ^odly of the land assem- 
 bled on the appointed day, February 28, 1638, and the 
 COVENANT was presented. In that Covenant, too long to 
 be reproduced, every covenanter pledged himself to maintain 
 pure Scriptural worship^ to protect the kin^ in all lawful and 
 righteous measures topreserre the liberties of the country^ to die^ 
 if necessary, in defending the cause of religion and the well-being 
 of the state — a Covenant, we think, that any Christian patriot 
 might sign. There was an ancient usage in Scotland of entering 
 into bands for mutual protection in troubled times ; also a pre- 
 vious Covenant, the same in substance as this, had been signed 
 in the days of the first Reformation, so that the idea was neither 
 neiv nor treasonable. After much consultation and prayer, the 
 I'^arl of Sutherland first signed the Covenant, then the ministers, 
 then the people ; and so great was the crowd that they spread it 
 on a flat gravestone in Grey friar's churchyard, and such was the 
 enthusiasm that many ojiened a vein and signed it with their 
 mvn blood. As eagerly did the people sign it throughout the 
 cities, and towns, and country, with rare exceptions at St. 
 Andrews, Aberdeen, and Glasgow. Its spirit spread far and 
 wide over the land, like fire over its heath-clad hills, and as the 
 tirey cross was wont to be the signal for feudal strife in earlier 
 times, it summoned the people to unite in one mighty phalanx 
 of concerted energy for the holiest of causes. How grand that 
 </<7V ^«d^^(?^</, when clans that rarely met but for strife, and 
 never parted without exchanging blows, met like brothers, and 
 parted, pledged to peace and love, while the feuds of ages melt- 
 ed swif;ly away under the grand charity of the Covenant ; and 
 that Covenant became henceforth the rallying standard of the 
 nation, until, Sih^x fifty years of conflict, it gave place to the rev- 
 olution under which the people of the fatherland have ever since 
 reposed in glory! This bold and energetic measure startled 
 the king, and paralyzed the bishops. But the king's sullen 
 pause was only the hush of agony nature holds before the crash 
 of storm. Kept in ignorance of the depth and extent of the 
 national feeling, Charles yielded to evil counsel, and involved 
 the country in the horrors of Civil War. Whilst collecting 
 
 t 1 
 
! » 
 
 t 
 
 I 
 
 V 
 
 I* 
 
 I * 
 
 74 
 
 THi: SfOrilSH COVF.NANTKRS. 
 
 his forces, and preparing for war, the kinij; sent the Marquis of 
 Hamilton, his commissioner, to Scotland, to pretend friendship 
 and compassion for the Covenanters, so as to detect their schemes 
 and divide their counsels. A more painful instance of perfi- 
 dious dissimulation than marked the king's dealings with the 
 Covenanters, it is difficult to imagine. Fortunately they had 
 received warning of Charles' duplicity, and Hamilton's inten- 
 tions, so that they were not beguiled by his arts ; and by their 
 firmness theycompelled'the commissioner to summon anAssem- 
 bly of the Church and parliament. When the (leneral Assem- 
 bly met at Glasgow, November 21, i63(S, after an interruption 
 of thirty-six years, every heart was moved to gratitude and 
 tears. Alexander Henderson, incom])arably the best man of 
 his Church, was unanimously chosen Moderator. During the 
 sittings of the Assembly, Henderson and Hamilton had many 
 sharp contentions, and, after an elocjuent vindication of the 
 liberties of the Church, he refused to rise, when the commis- 
 sioner abrubily left the Assembly, and declared it closed. 'I he 
 Covenanters had now taken ground from which they could not 
 retreat without sacrificing their civil and religions freedom. 
 Yet, in their anxiety to avoid hostilities, they waited on the 
 commissioner previous to his final departure for London, to 
 solicit his good offices at court ; but he replied in terms of 
 refusal and threatening. Not deterred in their loyal and pacific 
 course by an ungracious refusal, they sent a supplication to 
 his majesty, l)y one of themselves, George Winram, but it was 
 answered only in mockery. As the king's displeasure was 
 great, his preparation for war was great also, contemplating the 
 total subjection of the Scottish kingdom. The Covenanters 
 were compelled to take up arms in self-defence. Before doing 
 so, Alexander Henderson prepared a pamphlet, setting forth 
 their views and reasons to the English people, and thereby 
 secured the sympathy of the Puritans; and England refused the 
 despotic king all the arms and means he wanted, so that he had 
 to take the field at Berwick, at the head of thirty thousand. 
 The strongholds of Scotland were soon in the hands of the 
 Covenanters; the king's generals were defeated, and Leslie, the 
 commander of the Covenanting troops, compelled Charles to 
 make terms of peace. That peace was only for a short time, 
 until new forces could be collected. The king's second 
 
 1 
 

 THK SCOTIISH C ( )VEN.\NTKKS. 
 
 /S 
 
 attempt at coercion by arms was more disastrous still. Again 
 the Covenanters assembled under tl.eir old ueneral, and bore 
 aloft their colors, stamped with the Scotch arms, and this motto 
 in letters of gold: " b'OR CHRIST'S CROWN AN!) COV- 
 ENANT," and such was the dissatisfaction of the insulted 
 English nation that Charles could only raise iivcnty thousand 
 troops^ now to take the field under the notorious Strafford. 
 After i)ublishing a letter in justification of their exi)edition, the 
 Covenanters crossed the Tweed and met the Royal troops at 
 Newburn. In that keen and well-fought battle the Covenant- 
 ers were victorious, '''hey pushed on to Newcastle, and V'ork, 
 and Ripon, the l-^nglish army receding before them, until nego- 
 tiations concluded in London led to a cessation of hostilities, 
 and the disbanding of the armies, the king being constrained to 
 yield to the demands of the Covenanters, and ovc^rthrow his 
 favorite Episcopacy in Scotland. One benefit of the Scottish 
 commissioner's stay in London was a closer alliance with the 
 English Puritans, which finally led to the signing of the 
 Solemn Lf.aci k and Covenant by both countries, one of the 
 b(*st and most memorable documents ever recorded in the 
 international transactions of the world. That league bound the 
 united kingdoms to mutual assistance for the prtscriation and 
 defence of civd and religions liberty. From the moment the two 
 great parties were united, the fate of Charles Stuart and his 
 despotic measures was sealed. During the revolution the 
 Covenanters exjjerienced some reverses. Montrose, with all 
 his native daring, and fiery Highlanders, devastated the north, 
 and, in brief and brilliant march, came down like a living tor- 
 rent upon the Covenanters, spreading terror and ruin until his 
 career was checked by Leslie. In that second Reformation of 
 Scotland, the names of Henderson, and Douglas, and Baillie, . 
 and Rutherford, and Warriston — a galaxy of peculiar glory — ■ 
 are familiar household names that deserve to be handed down 
 to posterity with mingled gratitude and pride. After the Royal 
 forces were abolished, and the Commonwealth was established 
 under Oliver Cromwell, Scotland enjoyed unprecedented pros- 
 perity and peace ; and Kirkton says : " There were more souls 
 converted to Christ during that time than in any season since the 
 Reformation.'' For then had the churches rest, and there were 
 added to them daily such as should be saved. 
 
 I 
 
I 
 
 ^ 
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 bj 
 
 1. 
 
 76 
 
 THE SCOITISH COVENANIERS. 
 
 1660 — the Restoration of Charles the Second — commenced 
 a new era of the final years of the Covenanting struggle ; an 
 epoch whose history is written pi mournings lamentation^ and 
 blood. Charles the Second was truthless, corrupt, licentious, 
 and despotic. In the strange frenzy of extravagent loyalty, the 
 restoration of Charles to the throne of his ancestors was amidst 
 shouts and welcomes rarely ecjualled. The Episcopalians were 
 foremost in the demonstrations of joy, as it became them, but 
 the Presbyterians, the chief instruments of his return, deserved 
 consideration from the king, especially as Charles had one 
 time signed the Covenant, and solemnly vowed to be faithful ; 
 and further, this was a time when mutual concessions were 
 required, and animosities should have been forgotten. But 
 CharleSjdestitute of the wisdom to discern, and being at heart a 
 Papist, showed his preference, and stated as his motto, Episco- 
 pacy and no surrender. The Earl of Middleton, general of the 
 forces, was made commissioner to Scotland, with private 
 instructions to devise the best means of introducing Episco- 
 pacy. The chiefs of the Covenanting nobility were thrust into 
 prison, and ten ministers and two elders, who met just to frame 
 a loyal address to the king, and remind him of his Covenant, 
 were seized, and cast into prison also. Unfortunately, during 
 the years of external peace, internal dissensions had arisen 
 among the Covenanters, so that they had become t7c>o bands^ 
 called Resohitioners and Protestors. The Resolulioners 
 excelled in number ; the Protestors in fidelity to the Covenant. 
 Division made them weak and powerless to resist assault or 
 opi)ression, and their great leaders in the past had crossed the 
 river, entered the ivory gate, and received the victor's crown ; 
 so that measures they would not have dared to introduce a few 
 years before, the parliament of 1661 brought forward and 
 passed with impunity. In that parliament deserters of the 
 Covenant sought its destruction, and the Royal prerogative was 
 set up according to rigid logic of despotism. All the laws in 
 favor of civil liberty, and the Presbyterian Church, were de- 
 clared null, and these wild unconstitutional measures were soon 
 ratified in blood. The Marquis of Argyle, who placed the 
 crotvn upon the king's head., was the first victim. Charles had 
 promised to marry Argyle's daughter, and hated the man he 
 had injured. Argyle was a Presbyterian, and for this he was 
 
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 If: 
 
THF, SCOTTISH COVENANl ERS. 
 
 77 
 
 put to death. The next victim was James (luthrie, the bold 
 and able leader of the Protestors. After him (loven received 
 the crown of martyrs ; and they proceeded to take Rutherford 
 also, but the Master he loved so Wv-ll had given the first tally 
 and he hastened to obey it. i'hinking the Presbyterian spirit 
 sufticiently subdued, the king interposed his royal autiiority to 
 restore the government of bishops. James Sharp was made 
 Archbisiiop of St. Andrew's, and Metropolitan of Scotland ; 
 while i'airfoul, and Ihimilton, and Leighton received the mitre 
 also. Synods and Presbyteries were now |)rohil)ited by royal 
 decree, until summoned by the bishops. An act was passed 
 declaring all who held the Covenant guilty of treason, all 
 petitioners seditious, and refus ng them liberty to preach or 
 teach. The inf:imous acts that followed this, ejected three hun- 
 dred and fifty tniNi'sters from their homes and churches in 
 mid-winter. These ministers were forbidden to preach any- 
 where, or approach within twenty miles of their fo>mer charges. 
 and none were allowed to assist them with either food or 
 shelter. Literally, they wandered in deserts, and in mountains, 
 and in dens, and in caves of the earth. Well might the last 
 Sabbath of October, 1662, when the ejected ministers took 
 farewell of their flocks, be called the saddest Sabbath of Scotland. 
 The peoi)le also were heavily fined who refused to listen to the 
 ignorant and unworthy men who were sent to fill the vacant 
 pulpits. These were soon succeeded by measures yet more 
 severe. The refined and accomjjlished families, who had to 
 relinquish home and altar under a sense of utter homelessness, 
 ivere openly persecuted. The ministers and their sympathizing 
 people met in open field to worship (iod, commencing 
 what was termed Conventicles ; against them for years the 
 rage of the persecutors burned fiercely. Acts were passed 
 rendering all such meetings illegal, and consigning all who 
 persisted in holding them to prison and death — acts too faith- 
 fully fulfilled. Armed with such measures, and aided by spies 
 and a brutal soldiery. Sharp and his clergymen commenced in 
 earnest a reign of terror, and services which outraged the honor 
 of woman, blighted the home of industry, hounded from lonely 
 wilds the conscientious worshipj)^r, drove to poverty, and 
 prison, and death Scotland's noblest sons. The clergy, in their 
 intoxication of joy, dared the blasphemy of baptizing with the 
 
 I 
 
78 
 
 IHi: SCOTTISH COVENANTERS. 
 
 insulted name of religion, and ^'avc S')lemn thanks for atroci 
 ties that should have made them shun the lii^ht of day. IJrihed 
 and well paid infornier^^ luingling iieely with the (Covenanters 
 in tiieir wanderings and hiding-|)la(-GS, kept that fs.w/nr of dcs 
 potisni, the Court of High (Commission, well instructed in 
 the movements of the i)erse<nited Church, and of all that were 
 brought before this terrible court of inrjuisition not one es- 
 caj)ed punishment in either fine, imprisonment, exile, slavery, 
 or death. At the outset of the persecution there is u disi)lay 
 of humor as well as heroism in the j)ersecuted. One minister, 
 taunted bya mercurial (Conformist for wearing a threadbare coat, 
 replied: "If it be threadbare, it has uevcr been turned." 
 Another, when told by an old hearer that they would gladly 
 have lum back again, replied : "And I would as gladly come 
 if my conscience would allow;" at whi( h the honest country- 
 man rejoined : "Oh, sir, many nowadays make a ^t eat gash 
 in their eonsiience ; couldn't you make a little )iick in yours T 
 Another wrote : "I am at thy footstool -I may not do evil 
 that good may come." But the scene darkens, and the tempest 
 nears, and blood keens the thirst for blood. Charles made 
 the terms of conformity rerpiired by the Covenanters more 
 rigid still. He wanted to lay them j^rostrate and ])owerless 
 at the foot of the throne, and act after act of the servile 
 parliament but converged to this consummation. Just mark 
 briefly the despotic attempt to repress civil and religious 
 progress. The only place of worship remaining to the j)erse- 
 cuted ministers and Church was the solitudes of the South 
 and JVestern Counties. Your imagination can scarcely con- 
 ceive of solitudes more dreary than those to which the Cove- 
 nanters resorted. There were wild and rocky moorlands 
 and mountains covered with heath stretching onward for 
 miles, with just a few solitary shepherds' huts in the very 
 heart of these wastes; in the most retired and unknown re- 
 treats the persecuted met for praise and ])rayer, braving the 
 fierceness of the desert to escape the still fiercer storm of 
 cruel men. For men to choose a good conscience and pov- 
 erty is sublime, but sublimer still is it for men, women, and 
 children to persevere for upwards of twenty years in the 
 worship of the true (lod, a«n id peril, and privation, and deaths 
 oft, in a wilderness that could rival the Arabian for barren- 
 
1HI-: SCOTTISH covr.NANTr.RS. 
 
 ncss nntl isolation, or on hci^Iits su solrnm, ami pcrpindii ii 
 lar. and lonely, tlial only cMrcnuty wonKl dream ot' niciling 
 there, anil cease not to raise the j)eriloiJs psalms, though 
 some ol their slaughteied nimiber were missing from ea( h 
 successive assembly; and I cannot think of the many caves, 
 and ho!es. and glens adapted to the purpose of cone ealment 
 found in these wdils without entertaining the idea that the 
 Author af nature, when lie made the world, formed by anti- 
 cipation those abodes of secresy, that in after ages tlw earth 
 niii^ht /h//> the 7<<omaH 7i<lien in time of trouble she should Jlee 
 to the 7c!lilerniss, lohere she ha J a place /prepared for her of 
 God, Hut even those dreary retreats were discovered by 
 means of informers, and the fierce dragoons scoured moss 
 and hill with as keen a relish as ever sportsmen followed his 
 game, i arrying on, and on, the work of spoliation and death. 
 'I'here IS the venerable and much loved Peden; he must he 
 seized at all hazards. To-day he ventures forth from his 
 see ludcd refuge to inhale the breath and music of May-day. 
 He visits the house of a valued friend for refreshment and 
 converse. As the evening gathers ipiietly on, he hastens 
 along the soft foot-path leading to his cave at Garricfell. 
 All at once several moss troopers aj^pcar, advancing directly 
 upon him. In his llight across the moor he perceived a cav- 
 ity scooped out by a running stream, and crept in, stretching 
 himself under the grassy coverlet, until the dragoons, who 
 swittly followed, had c rossed at thj very spot. I'he hoof of 
 one of the horses grazed his head while he lay unperceived. 
 On another occasion, the same man and a few of his com- 
 panions in tibulation were so closely pursued by the enemy 
 that all hope of escape was cut off, and Peden, knelt down 
 and asked God to baffle the pursuers, and instantly a mist 
 came rolli.g down the mountain side, till the persecutors 
 were blinded and could not grope their way. A worthy 
 Covenanter, Howatson, who was compelled to dwell in con- 
 cealment, happened of a cold and stormy night to venture into 
 his house, where, after a cordial greeting from his family 
 and a hasty supper, and a change of raimen% he retired to 
 rest. Unexpectedly, at dead of night, a party of pursuers 
 came, and four entered the house. As they stood in front of 
 the fire lighting a candle, Howatson's wife awoke ; grasping 
 
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 I' r 
 
i 
 
 •<} 
 
 I, 
 
 ; 
 
 
 
 80 
 
 THE scorns^ covenanters. 
 
 his arm firmly, he awoke, slipped softly out of bed, and 
 darted like an arrow through the dragoons, his snow-white 
 shirt terrifying the horses, and producing confusion while he 
 escaped. On another occasion the same man was seized, and 
 cast into a dungeon where flight was thought impossible ; but 
 while there his devoted wife employed a half-witted man of 
 enormous strength to lift the massive doors under cover of 
 night, and so released the prisoner. And the wearied man 
 outlived the persecution, and died in great peace. A good 
 man, named Hare, was seized by the persecutors, and remind- 
 ed that they should have some sport in killing him, as they 
 would the little animal of his name. Placing him on horse- 
 back behind one of themselves, they carried him to the top 
 of a very high hill ; the descent on either side for several 
 hundred feet was very steep. Uubuckling the belt which 
 fastened him to the soldier, they prepared to fire ; but Hare 
 slid from the horse, lighted on the steep declevity, and 
 glided with great swiftness down the side, until, at the ut- 
 most speed, he reached the bottom. The soldiers fired, but 
 dared not follow, and could only gnash their teeth in disap- 
 pointed rage. Returning across the moors, the soldiers saw 
 young Adams reading and medicating on the Word of God, 
 and shot him dead at once —for no other crime than being a 
 Christian. Crossing the river just below, they met his 
 amiable companion going, as she supposed, to meet her 
 lover. One of the soldiers, with his sword, rudely attempted 
 to push her into the foaming stream, when she wTenched the 
 sword from his hand, and hastened on, only to kiss lips that 
 were cold and still in df ath. Alex. Williamson, a Covenanter 
 of eminence and wealth, for feeding and sheltering other 
 Covenanters, was marked for vengeance. One Sabbath the 
 dragoons entered his house and searched it through and 
 through, but found him not ; for he was far away from those 
 who thirsted for his blood, worshiping God in the temple of 
 Nature, and listening to a sermon on the burning bush, stilt 
 burning but not consumed. " To the left !" shouted an 
 officer; "there is game on the hillside yonder. Pursue, for 
 the old bird has flown." That silver-haired fugitive has- 
 tening across the hill is Crmpbell. The pursuers gain upon 
 him. He throws himself into a narrow moss-covered trench, 
 
 I 
 
 
THF. '■CO'niSH COVKNANTF.RS. 
 
 8i 
 
 and there ( lod hides him. As unexpected as unwelcome, a 
 company of horsemen entered the abode of WiHiam Good. 
 Flight was imi)ossiblc ; but he hid himself in the spence with 
 superannuated barrels, and pots, and chests, and the rude 
 troopers with all their searching found him not ; for their 
 eyes were holden. In those days of peril the sense of sight 
 and sound was wonderfully sharpened by excessive use ; even 
 in sleep they seemed strangely wakeful. But notwithstanding, 
 the troopers would sometimes come upon them unper- 
 ceived, and if found searching the Scriptures, or engaged in 
 worship, they were put to an instant death, or banished to 
 returnless exile. Thus a young man of eighteen was seized; 
 for the moment he faltered, and knelt down to pray for 
 strength, and when he rose he said; "Now I defy death; 
 thank (Jod, I am now ready.' A woman, a wife, a motlier, was 
 sentenced to be tied in a sack and drowned, and her husband, 
 to whom she was tenderly attached, was to be hanged the same 
 day. They were not allowed to die together, but when she 
 parted from him she said : " Husband, be glad ; we have 
 lived together in peace, and now we shall have joy forever. 
 / shall not say i:;ood-ni^^lit, for ice shall meet again presently 
 heyond the river.^' Two young women were offered life if 
 they would take an oath against their conscience, but 
 replied : " We will not ; we are Christ's children ; let us go," 
 and they flung them into the river to die. John Brown, of 
 J^riesthill, the Christian Carrier, was shot without trial be- 
 fore his wife and children by the hardened and cruel Claver- 
 house, whose soldiers refused to fire on him who had just 
 moved even them to tears by his fervent prayers to God ; 
 but when the soldiers recoiled with horror from the murder of 
 so good a man, Claverhouse ruthlessly accomplished it with 
 his own hand. After the fatal shot, he turned to the widow 
 in mockery and said : " What thinkest thou of thy iiusband 
 now ?" She nobly replied : *' / ever thought much of him, 
 and no7o more than rrer,'^ and the brave woman gatiiered up 
 his scattered brains, rolled his lifeless body in her shawl, and 
 laid him down to rest until the resurrection morn. Hugh Mc- 
 Kail, a young preacher of great learning, and eloquence, and 
 piety, once discoursing on the sufferings of the Church, said 
 it had been persecuted by a Pharaoh on the throne, a Haman 
 
83 
 
 JHK SCO'lTISH COVENANTERS. 
 
 1 * 
 
 /// the State, and a Judas in the Church. When a report of 
 this sermon reached the ears of Sharp, 7vho thow^ht hiimelj 
 the Judas, and ?ioi untruly, he determined lo silence the gift- 
 ed i)reaclier. Causing him to be arrested, he was passed 
 under a mock trial, then put to the torture of the " boot,"' and 
 then executed on the scaffold. Tlie last words of that Chris- 
 tian martyr, ^vhen taking his farewell of friends and the 
 world, were inexpressibly sublime. Cameron, tlic celebrated 
 author of the Sanquhar Declaration, for whose apprehension 
 a large reward was offered, also fell a victim to tlie persecu- 
 tors' rage. After his death, being a leading Covenanter, his 
 hands, and head, and members were cut off, and carried to 
 Edinburgh for exhibition, the foe who exposed them saying : 
 ''^ This is the man who lived preachini;; and piayiui^." Well 
 might Scotland weep when so good and great u leader fell for 
 the crime oi preaching and praying. The banner, which fell 
 from Cameron's dying hand, was caught up and borne aloft by 
 the dauntless, devoted Cargel! ; and Cargell continued to raise 
 the Covenanting standard in si)ile of hottest rage and keenest 
 watches, and a reward of 5,000 marks on his head, preaching 
 in solitary moor and mountain fastness to the fearless few who 
 dared to follow, until, by the aid of an informer, the villan- 
 hearted IJonshawa seized and brought him to trial. He was 
 condemned, and died on the scaffold in the full possession of 
 the joy of mart)rs. " Oh," you say, " was there no opposition 
 offered to such scenes of tyranny and cruelty ?'' There was. 
 Exasj crated by persecution, and goaded by the remembrance 
 of their many wrongs, the Covenanters put to tlie sword some 
 of their ])ersecutors in self-defence. The also rose and fought 
 the ill-concerted battles of Pentland end Hothwell Bridge j but 
 terrible was the vengeance which succeeded. Many were put 
 to death without investigation or trial, while hundreds were 
 sent to the liass, or hanged ui)on the cross of the common high- 
 way, or sold for slaves ; but \erily there is a (iod that judgeth 
 in the earth, and he hath said, '• \'engeance is mine," and *' I 
 will repay." The heads of the persecutors came not to their 
 graves in peace. It is not without an intelligible i)urpose that 
 retribution follows closely the heels of oppression ; it shows us 
 the strange affinity between crime and ])unishment. Friar 
 Campbell died raving mad. (iuerson expired in fearful tor- 
 
 . 
 
THK SCOTTISH COVENAN 1 ERS. 
 
 83 
 
 report of 
 ^r/it himselj 
 cc the gift- 
 /as passed 
 boot,"' and 
 that Chrls- 
 is and the 
 
 celebrated 
 )prehension 
 le \)ersecu- 
 manter, his 
 
 carried to 
 lem saying : 
 
 7//A'-." ^^'"-'^^ 
 ader fell for 
 , which fell 
 )rne aloft by 
 iLied to raise 
 and keenest 
 ,d, preaching 
 less few who 
 ir, the villan- 
 al. He was 
 )Osscssion of 
 no opposition 
 There was. 
 emembrancc 
 sword some 
 and fought 
 Bridge; but 
 nv were put 
 ndreds were 
 )mmon high- 
 liat judgeth 
 lie," and " I 
 1 not to their 
 l)urpose that 
 it shows us 
 Inent. Fri'^i" 
 fearful tor- 
 
 ments. 'I'he Earl of Rothe's death-bed was so remorseful that 
 he sent for one of the l^anished ministers to comfort and pray 
 with lilm, though the good man's prayers could not be heard 
 for the fearful groans of the dying man ; and the Marquis of 
 Hamilton remarked, as he left the room in tears : " This is 
 fearful work ; /'// life -luc persecute t/iese men, cud in death we call 
 for tlienij' Sharp, after ei<;hteen years of bloodsJied, fell at Magus 
 Moor by an act of wild justice. Claverhouse died unregretted, 
 and his name is held in execration to-day. And last of all, 
 Charles himself died also, February 6th, 1685. It was said he 
 died oi appop'exy, hni suspicions of poison lin,L;er. \'et still the 
 work of persecution went on with fiercer sweep. James, the 
 brother and successor of Charles, was cold, crafty, cruel, an 
 avawcd Papist. He was the last and most bigotted of the ill- 
 fated Stuarts. On reaching the throne, his remorseless, vin- 
 dictive hand was at once stretched out, like another Herod, 
 " to vex certain of tne Church.' With his brief reign com- 
 menced the last and bloodiest persecution, termed the killing 
 time. Every instrument of torture, that practised hands and 
 savage natures could invent, was used. The west and south of 
 Scotland became a field of blood, and if the days had not been 
 shortened, O Cod, who could stand? James Renick, the 
 Covenanting leader aftei Cargell, was seized, chained, and 
 imprisoned. His handsome person, frank manner, rare talents, 
 and devoted piety moved even his enemies to i)ity ; but because 
 he would not recant, he was executed at the age of 26 — a worthy 
 successor of ancient and heroic sires. Alexander Shields 
 then caught up the banner and bore it aloft in the perilous 
 path of duty, and though jealously watched, and hotlj pursued, 
 he bore it on, and on, till the night had passed, and the light 
 of morning dawned ; but while Shields escaped, Archer, and 
 Russel, and Law were hanged up to die. The much-loved and 
 venerable iJaillie was also rudely taken from his dying bed, and 
 brought to trial in his dressing-gown, the infamous MacKenzie 
 still i:)rosecuting. Baillie was condemned, like his Master, amid 
 confessed innocence, and he was liastened to a martyr's crown, 
 while his body was cut ui> for dispersion. Others less famous 
 were daily seized and put to a cruel death. A woman, for 
 sheltering a friend in iier house, wj , taken and cast into a pit, 
 swarming with reptiles ; another, for aiding her husband's 
 
 V 
 
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'■iH 
 
 84 
 
 THE SCOniSII COVENANITRS. 
 
 ■i 
 
 
 
 ii vii 
 
 escnpc, had matches tied between her fingers and set on fire, 
 until she died of the torture. Others were crowded, without 
 distinction of age or sex, into loathsome dungeons to perish of 
 disease or plague. Others were cast into the foaming torrent to 
 choke and stain the stream, and so fearful did the storm rage 
 that already above eighteen thonsajid had suffered in the last 
 epoch of the revolution, while only about sixty of the ejected 
 ministers remained to gaze upon the mournful wreck. And 
 must the storm rage on, while men forget their manhood, and 
 women their tenderness in that strange transformation — 
 the human turned into the brutal ? Must road, and 
 street, and field, be ever saturated with blood, to appease 
 the vampire appetite ? Must the home ever be desolate, and 
 the sound of psalm be ever silenced by the yell of the fierce 
 blasphemer ? Will not blood cpiench the thirst for blood, and 
 the wailed cry appall him who is flushed and drunk with 
 murder ? Must the tempest of cruelty linger till the last saint 
 is martyred and crowned ? And I heard a voice from under 
 thealtar crying, " Oh, Lord God, how long, and let it repent 
 Thee concerning Thy servants ?" And God arose in his kindled 
 anger and smote the persecutor, and scattered the people that 
 delighted in blood, and tht grand revolution of 1688 brought 
 calm, and tranquility, and peace. 
 
 As I gather profitably around me the memories of the 
 Covenanting struggle, I have this firm and enlightened convic- 
 tion, that State Churches are an evil, no matter what the name, or 
 form of government and worship — whether Episcopalian, or 
 Presbyterian, or"* Congregational, or Meihodistic. A State 
 Church is a great mistake, oi)posed to the i:lain teachings of 
 God's Word, contrary to the si)iritual nature of true religion, 
 and averse to the power and life of Christianity. It is a daring 
 mockeryof the spirituality of God'sChurch, and the divine energy 
 of truth, for the heads of any nation to meet and summon before 
 them Plato, and Confucius, and Mahomet, and Christ, and elect 
 one as ihe author of a national religion. The question of 
 religion is emphatically personal and spiritual; and more, it 
 is not the whole Church, only a sect that men seek to establish, 
 so that parfy, not Christianity, is the subject of struggle ; and 
 no man has any right to compell me to be of a sect from whom 
 I intelligently and conscienciously disagree ; nor has he any 
 
THE SCOrriSH COVENANTERS. 
 
 85 
 
 2t on fire, 
 d, without 
 > perish of 
 torrent to 
 itorm rage 
 n the last 
 the ejected 
 ;ck. And 
 hood, and 
 >rmation — 
 road, and 
 o appease 
 jolate, and 
 * the fierce 
 blood, o.nd 
 Irunk with 
 } last saint 
 I'om under 
 t it repent 
 his kindled 
 people that 
 88 brought 
 
 •ies of the 
 bed convic- 
 llie name, or 
 topalian, or 
 A State 
 cachings of 
 |e religion, 
 I is a daring 
 ^ine energy 
 hion before 
 t, and elect 
 mestion of 
 [d more, it 
 establish, 
 Iggle; and 
 Irom whom 
 is he any 
 
 right to strip my furniture, or auction my bed, or sell my Bible 
 to maintain a denomination or sacrament which I do not hold. 
 Such a practice of making opinion compulsory is a relic of the 
 worst barbarism^ and as I mark the persecutions that disgraced 
 the history of the Covenanting period, and see that cities were 
 sacked, and property confiscated, and lives massacred, under 
 the pietence of honoring God, I see the necessity of writing 
 upon every nation's banner the motto of the great Italian states- 
 man, ^^ A free Church is a free State." And as I further gather 
 up the lessons of counsel and sacrifice of the Covenanting strug- 
 gle, and rise above the current of dogmatism and polemical 
 crusade, I cannot, I will not forget my humble tribute to the 
 heroes of the past, to whom we owe so much. They sowed the 
 seed of whicli the harvest waveth now, amid unfriendly watches 
 and fierce opposition and trials many. They bore their heroic 
 witness, and scattered wide the principles under whose lingering 
 charities the beggar and the exile may freely worship God. 
 Don't talk to me of your conquerors who have climbed up to a 
 niche in the temple of fame, because of some act of physical 
 daring or the shedding of gallant blood. Decorate them with 
 stars, install them in the gallery of the illustrious dead, if you 
 will. We have heroes here, higher than the proudest warrior; 
 for they are owmd of God and croivned in heaven. I am not 
 indiscriminate in mv admiro*ion of the Covenanters. There 
 were exceptionable points in their character and career. I 
 should have studied their history in vain, and their human 
 nature very superficial.^, if I had seen no infirmities and weak- 
 nessess. There were at times the working ot unsanctified 
 passion, the fumes of fanaticism, and the presence of 
 revolutionary insolence ; but these defects, created chiefly by 
 the age and situation, compared with their virtues, were only 
 as spots on a fragrant flower, or specks on a summer sun. 
 These men might have had too much ruggedness for the 
 efieminancy of this generation ; but they were in the true suc- 
 cession of apostolic and saintly labors of the universal Church 
 of Christ; and we should never forget that to the endurance 
 and fidellity of the noble Scottish Covenanters we owe much of 
 the freedom and religious blessings of to-day. With such feel- 
 ings you will not hesitate to join the pa^an of one of Scotland's 
 proudest bards over a martyred Covenanter's grave : — 
 
^ 
 
 I 
 
 K 
 I 
 
 86 
 
 THE SCOTTISH COVENANTl.RS. 
 
 T stood by tlio martyr's lonely grave, 
 
 Wliere tlie Hower.s of thp iiioorland bloom, — 
 Where bright memorials ol'Xiiture wnve 
 Sweet pert'uine o'er the sleeping brave 
 
 lu his moss-clad mountain tomb. 
 
 And the vision of other days eame back, 
 
 When the dark and bloody band, 
 With the might of a living cataract. 
 Essayed to sweep in tlieir tirey tract 
 
 The godly from the land. 
 
 When Zion was far on the mountain height, 
 When the wild was the house of prayer. 
 Where the eye of eternal hope grew l»right. 
 O'er the saint arra};'(l in the warrior's might, 
 For his (fod and his country thire. 
 
 When the barbarous hordes, as they onward rode, 
 
 liy the wild and roeky glen, 
 Have henrd, when away from man's abode, 
 A voice that awed like the voice of Tiod, — 
 "J'was the hymn of the tearless men. 
 
 For the sunless cave was the martyr's home. 
 
 And the damp, cold earth his bed. 
 And the thousand lights of the starry dome 
 Were the sun of his path, while doomed to roam 
 O'er the wilds where his brothers bled. 
 
 When the clang of tlic conflict rung on the heath, 
 And the watchword of freed(»nt rose 
 
 Like the tones of Hea\en on the saint's last breath 
 
 Far o'er the battle notes of death. 
 As he soared to his last repose. 
 
 The lover of freedom can never forget 
 
 The glorious Covenant band : 
 The sires that on Scothnid's moorlands met 
 Each name like a seal on the heart to set, — 
 
 The pride of that brave old fatherland. 
 
LECTURE V. 
 
 WILLIAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 4^ 
 
 -*-^^-*- 
 
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 j^OLI.ANI), from "hollowland," or Netherlands, from 
 /^W/ ncitherland, as its soil was almost fluid, was originally 
 r\^ a wild morass, lying partly below the level of the ocean 
 "Cy ^ at high tide, and subject to frccjuent inundations by the 
 sea. A delta, formed by the deposit of many centuries, from 
 its three great rivers, the Rhine, the Meuse and the Scheldt, 
 ultimately permitted this meagre orphan to become habitable by 
 man. lUit n' one who had ever read of the great bravery of 
 the Island of Batavia, in the two-horned Rhine, and the remark- 
 able honors bestowed by the Roman con([uerors on the Batavia 
 cavalry — Caesar's bodyguard ; no one, who could believe all that 
 the crude historians of that age said about the people, whom 
 even Rome honored with an alliance, could for a moment guess 
 that that small country of twelve provinces, containing about 
 1 20 square miles, with a population of 3,000,000 of peo])le, 
 could wage a successful warfare with the greatest military des- 
 ]iotisms of the sixteenth and sereuteenth centuries ; become, dur- 
 ing the centuries of terrible political and religious commotions, 
 the land of freedom, and offer to the persecuted of all countries 
 an asylum and a home ; that this spongy land, which human 
 beavers had forced into fertility and intersected with canals, 
 should be unconsciously educating itself, by its struggle with 
 the angry sea, and the still more cruel despotism of civil and 
 ecclesiastical tyranny, to become the cradle of free citizenship, 
 the vigorous defender of constitutional self-government, and in 
 due time to give to England a great prince and deliverer to super- 
 sede the stipendiary Stuaits, and thus fill the throne of England 
 with a great name, and give permanence and glory to the 
 
 
88 
 
 WILLIAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 
 M 
 
 kingdom and its liberties, as it did in the person of 
 William III. 
 
 William of Orange was born November 4th, 1650. His 
 mother was the Princess Royal of England, daughter of Charles 
 I. His deceased father — having died the day before — lay in 
 state in an adjoining room at the time of the birth of his son. 
 No one could have been born into the world under more pain- 
 ful circumstances. On his father's side, William was descended 
 from the House of Nassau, and could boast to have sprung 
 from a noble and wealthy line of German princes. His great- 
 grandfather, William the Silent, was the hero and founder 
 of the Dutch Republic, though it was his grandfather who re- 
 ceived the acknowledgement of Dutch independence. William 
 was a weakly, delicate child, and when only three years old, the 
 States of Holland passed a decree excluding him from the office 
 of Stadt-holder, or chief magistrate, though the Republic 
 owed its independence to the bravery and martyrdom of his 
 ancestors. In 1660, when on a visit to the English court, his 
 mother died of small-pox; and at the age of /en the orphan boy 
 was left to the guardianship of his grandmother Amelia, and De 
 Witt, the famous Dutch statesman. To them he owed much 
 of his education and principles. The year his mother died, the 
 king of France seized the city and principality of Orange, his 
 patrimonial estate, and trampled upon the rights of William and 
 the citizens. What mean and contemptible theft, to rob an 
 orphan child simply because he was powerless ! Can you won- 
 der that such base covetousness inspired Hannibal-like resent- 
 ment and that he hated and punished France to his dying day ? 
 The rulers of his own country were also severe on him. At 
 fifteen ihey removed him from all his attached and devoted do- 
 mestics, and tried to get him to leave his palace at the Hague ; 
 but he resolutely replied : " Tell the States that my ancestors 
 and myself have lived here so long that I am unwilling to go, 
 and will notj till forced" Under this treatment, his health and 
 emotions gave way for a time, but in this day of adversity he 
 learnt the coolness, the self-repression, the secrecy, the tact, and 
 arts of diplomacy in which he afterwards so greatly distinguished 
 himself. Dark, indeed, were the ways he was compelHd to 
 tread during his orphanhood and minority. Fierce were the 
 fires in which the pure gold of his principles were tested. 
 
WILLIAM OF ORANGK. 
 
 89 
 
 
 but the glory was all the brighter for the gloom through 
 which it passed ; the victory was all the grander for the 
 struggle that it cost. Entering, as a boy, into a night of 
 terrible trial, leaning upon the or|)han's Father, he came 
 forth a man and a prince at the breaking of the day. 
 William never became a great scholar. He was essentially 
 practical a man of business, a warrior, a statesman; and in these 
 he unquestionably excelled. He was also a Protestant of the 
 most pronounced type, a decided Calvinist. Circumstances 
 forced hiai early into the field of battle, and the arena of 
 politics. The ruin of the Republic seemed imminent, through 
 the invasion of Louis XIV. of France — the most powerful 
 monarch of his age. William, though young, could not witness 
 the ruin of his country without a struggle. When Buckingham 
 told him that his cause was hopeless, he nobly replied : " 'Jhere 
 is one way in which I will never see my country ruined ; / r«:'/7/ 
 d/e in the last dyke.'" But in spite of every difficulty his fortunes 
 rose. The mass of his countrymi n appreciated his courage, 
 his talents, his great efforts for the good of the fatherland, and 
 a wonderful reaction in his favor set in. At iivoity-one, in a 
 day of gloom, and terro*", and national invasion, he was chosen 
 commander of the forces. Soon after he was reinstated Stadt- 
 holder, with all the honors and powers of his ancestors. At 
 twenty-three he was in the field of battle, contending bravely 
 against overwhelming odds, and though he was sometimes 
 defeated and meanly betrayed by his uncle, yet, against the 
 very flower and chivalry of France, he won renown and admir- 
 ation, and became the head of a coalition which contended 
 Wxih honor against some of the greatest generals of Europe. 
 After a desperate conflict, William's abilities were acknowledged 
 by the first marshals of France, and the integrity and inde- 
 pendence of Holland was conceded, so that the fatherland was 
 saved. While thus struggling for self-existence against the 
 oppression of France, an incident occurred which showed the 
 purity and excellence of William's principles. In August, 
 1674, bad news came from Vienna, about the persecution of the 
 Protestants of Hungary. Eighty of their pastors had been 
 summarily arrested and sent to the galleys at Naples. Their 
 case was represented by M. Turretin, of Geneva, to William, 
 who was almost the only Protestant ruler of Europe at the 
 
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 90 
 
 NVILMAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 time. William at once ordered Admiral I)e Ruyter and his 
 Dutch fleet to act with energy at Naples, on behalf of the 
 oppressed pastors. The r .monstrance of Holland was success- 
 ful, and the Hungarians were released, placed on board the 
 Dutch vessels, iind taken to Holland, where they were 
 generously received, and supplied with means by William until 
 they settled as pastors, some in the Low Countries, and others 
 in England. 
 
 In the fall of 1677, William came to England for a treaty 
 and a wife, and, after some delay and vexation, gained both 
 from his reluctant and i)leasure-loving uncle. 'I'he lady he 
 had the honor to wed on his hventy seventh birthday, 
 was the Princess Mary, the eldest daughter of James, 
 Duke of York. As the reigning monarch, Charles II., had 
 no legitimate children ; his brother's, next after himself, and 
 his brother, were the heirs to the English crown, so that the 
 lady William married was his cousin, the Princess Royal of 
 England, and heir apparent to the British throne. By this, he 
 placed himself in direct and close alliance with that crown and 
 people, which he was destined to honor and serve. Mary was 
 a true I'rotestant, and became a noble wife. Married at the 
 age of sixteen, she was handsome, intelligent, and of good dis- 
 position, but her education was limited, and he had little 
 knowledge of the laws and constitution of the country over 
 which she would one day reign. William did not at first find 
 in her a suitable companion, or f omestic happiness, owing to 
 disparity of age and difference of taste ; and tale-bearers aggra- 
 vated the girlish difficulties. But Mary gradually cast off her 
 girlish jealousies, and bore herself with true womanly meekness, 
 and patience, and devotion, until she won her husband's grati- 
 tude and confidence. At length through the agency of Burnet, 
 her chaplain, a perfect understanding was reached, and Mary 
 learned the only remaining cause of W^illiam's discontent — her 
 priority to him of claim and position as the heir apparent of the 
 British throne. As his wife, Mary had promised to obey her 
 husband, and it never occurred to her that that relation might 
 be inverted. When the point was shown to her by Burnet, 
 she declared her affection and submission to her husband. 
 3urnet urged her to take time to consider the important point. 
 She replied : " I want no time for consideration. Tell the 
 
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 prince what I say, and l)ring him to me." When Burnet brou^'ht 
 the prince into her jjrcscnce, she said to him : '' I did not 
 know till yesterday that there was such a difference between 
 the laws of England, and the laws of (lod. I now promise you 
 that you are the head and shall always bear the rule, and while 
 1 observe the precept which enjoins wives to omkv their hus- 
 bands, I ask that you will observe that which enjoins husbands 
 to i.ovF, tiieir wives." Precepts which both nobly followed 
 from that day to tlicir mutual haj)piness and honor. For a 
 time, leave the I'lince in Holland actively sustaming the cares 
 of state, while you irace the course of events in England that 
 led up to the Revolution. 
 
 IMK HRITISH CONSriTl riON. 
 
 It is necessary for you to glance at the leading features of 
 the British constitution that vou mav decide how far the Stuart 
 king's respected it, and whether or not they merited the fate 
 that overtook them. Some have felt and taugh'. that there is 
 — or was previous to the Revolution of 1688 -no such thing 
 as a British constitution, because it was not codified, and found 
 in full written form like the constitution of the United States. 
 But to this we reply, that from the earliest periods of 
 British nationality right down through there were certain great 
 leading principles which were expanded and developed with the 
 progress of society, and advancing civilization, and intelligence; in 
 substance and spirit essentially the same. These principles took 
 the form of charters, or Bills of Right, at several distinct 
 epochs or crises of national history, and so are variously named 
 and dated as the Magna Charta of John, 1215 ; the Pkiition 
 OF Rights of Charles I., 1628 ; the Bill of Rights of William 
 III., 1689. These several great constitutional compacts solemnly 
 entered into between the subjects and the sovereigns you may 
 Tiew as leading scenes in a long and complicated drama. But 
 every man of unbiased judgment will admit that in the first, 
 and from the first, the foundations of our freedom, and rights, 
 and institutions were imperishably laid. There you see that the 
 government of the country is by an hereditary sovereign, ruling 
 with limited powers, bound to summon and consult the national 
 parliament; that without the sanction and vote of parliament no 
 tax can be imposed, and no law made, altered or repealed 
 
 
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 WILLIAM OF ORANC.K. 
 
 
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 that no man may be arbitrarily fined, or imprisoned, or pun- 
 ished, except after a lawful trial (trial by jury) ; that justice 
 shall be neither bought nor sold ; that all men are equal in the 
 eye of the law. 
 
 JHE STUART KINGS. 
 
 'I'hat the Stuart kings openly, and persistently, and arbitrarily 
 sought the overthrow of this constitution, no impartial and can- 
 did reader of English history can deny. Violating their own 
 coronation oath, they resolutely endeavored to accomplish the 
 ruin of the constitution and the nation. But for the Common- 
 wealth, and the Revolution, and the providence of God, they 
 liad accomplished it to the full. James I. was a tyrant, a cow- 
 ard, and as full of conceit as he was intolerant in spirit. 
 Charles I. was polished, superstitious, despotic, and utterly 
 unreliable. Charles II. was an unprincipled profligate in life, 
 and a Roman Catholic in death. James II. was bigoted, inso- 
 lent, arbitrary, cruel, malignant, and without principle. The 
 whole House of Stuart were party men, biased by extreme par- 
 tizanship. Instead of coming to the throne as wise and enlight- 
 ened rulers, to reign over a great, free people with toleration 
 and impartial justice, they came to the throne, blinded with 
 prejudices, biased by the most absurd principles, to exercise 
 arbitrary power. It does not alter the fact, to say that they 
 were conscientious in their aggressions on the constitution ; that 
 they believed themselves entitled to the powers they attempted 
 to exercise ; that while invading the nation's rights, they imag- 
 ined themselves concerned only in the defence of their own ; 
 that their principles were espoused by a strong party, both in 
 Church and state. They were not less aggressors on the con- 
 stitution, nor did it diminish the necessity of opposing their 
 attempt at absolute power. Had they been permitted to estab- 
 lish the maxims and practices of an absolute monarchy, as they 
 desired and claimed, England would have been a by-word 
 abroad, and a slave at home ; for the doctrine which they tena- 
 ciously held, and offensively paraded, of unbounded royal preroga- 
 tive reduced the privileges of parliament to a mere permission 
 and toleration of the crown, and the rights of citizenship of no 
 mean country to the caprice of unscrupulous despots. James II., 
 who occupied the throne of England at the time of the Revo- 
 
WILLIAM OF ORANC.E. 
 
 93 
 
 lution, inherited all the worst features of his predecessors, and 
 exceeded them in violence and ostentation. Even Hume, 
 a strong partizan of the House of Stuart, confesses that James' 
 short reign consisted of a series of illegal and imprudent attempts 
 against whatever was most loved and revered by the nation. 
 James, as the subsidized hireling of Louis XIV, made that 
 powerful and unscrupulous despot his model, and sought to 
 make the parliament of England mere recorders of his decrees, 
 after the type of his royal patron of France. The circum- 
 stances of the period, when he came to the throne, favored the 
 advancement of arbitrary power. The late king had succeeded 
 in humbling the popular party, and removing or putting to 
 death some of its leaders. The charters of the great cities and 
 towns had been changed to meet the royal will, and make their 
 representatives the mere nominees of the crown. The judges 
 were selected by the king, and held their offices at his pleasure. 
 The unhappy insurrections of Monmouth and Argyle had been 
 crushed, and the victims savagely punished by judicial mon- 
 sters, like Jeffreys, "the butcher of the bench," of whom the 
 king himself said : " He hath no learning, no sense, no manners, 
 and more impudence than ten streetwalkers." The University 
 of Oxford had, at the demand of the king, decrdid, on pain of 
 infamy here and damnation hereafter, the doctrine of divine right 
 and passive obedience. Daniel Defoe records that he heard 
 publicly preached from a London pulpit, " that if the king de- 
 maded the subject's head, and sent his messengers to fetch it, 
 the subject was bound to submit, and, as far as possible, facili- 
 tate his own decapitation." That was divine right and abso- 
 lute power with a vengeance Added to this, the king had a 
 disciplined army of 20,000 men, and the pledged support of the 
 most powerful monarch of Europe. You cannot wonder that 
 James, in this situation, would not suffer the mockery of con- 
 stitutional limitations, but openly assumed the right to dispense 
 by royal prerogative. In this spirit, he sought to establish the 
 court of High Commission. He expelled the fellows of Mag- 
 dalen College, Oxford, because they refused to elect, as their 
 president — in violation of law — a Roman Catbplic nominee of 
 the king. He levied duties, and collected taxes, without the 
 consent of parliament. He dismissed parliament, at his ca- 
 price, when they refused to sanction the restoration of Roman 
 
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94 
 
 WILLIAM OF ORANGE. 
 
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 Catholic supremacy. He sent the Earl of Castlemain to Rome, 
 to re-establish relations with the Papal See, though the laws de- 
 clared it seditious. He received the Papal nuncio with great 
 pomp, and, when reminded that it was contrary to law, replied : 
 •* / am above the law " He abolished a number of statutes by 
 his Declaration of Indulgence, in defiance of parliament 
 and charters. He prosecuted seven bishops, as libellers, for 
 presenting to him a petition, respectfully refusing to publish an 
 illegal order. His aim was clear — to lay the nation's faith at 
 the feet of the Pope, and to lay the nation's civil liber- 
 ties at his own feet. Providentially, James was too rash and 
 imprudent to succeed. For a time, there was an apparent sub- 
 mission to the royal will, but the heart of the nation was true to 
 its charters, and its hatred of the Papacy. As men became 
 aware of the nature of the crisis, they united grandly for the 
 salvation of the nation's faith and freedom. Notning 
 can exceed the disinterested and self-denying heroism of 
 the Nonconformists of that day, led by such men as 
 John Howe, Richard Baxter, and others. Offered a liberty 
 they so justly deserved at the hands of the king, as the price ot 
 'sustaining the Declaration of Indulgence, they might have 
 reasoned; " V|fiy should we be conservators of the constitution? 
 It has taken no thought or care for us, but instead has thrust 
 us out as mere pariahs. It denies us even the right to exist, 
 and has spared no effort to accomplish its wicked designs. We 
 owe it nothing but fines, and confiscations, and prisons, and 
 pillaries; spies by whom our very houses are watched ; informers 
 who fatten on the profits of their perjury against us ; and gaolers 
 who rejoice to make us the victims of their brutality. To assist 
 in the continuance of this system of oppression, in opposition 
 to the king, is to ask too much. Let us trust to the mercies of 
 the king and assist him to abolish this infamous Test Act. 
 What if the king does override the law, he will give us the jus- 
 tice the parliament has so long withheld, and we shall be en- 
 titled to the honors and emoluments of office as well as others." 
 But these sturdy Protestant patriots would not accept the prof- 
 fered boon at the price of law and constitution, and were con- 
 tent to accept disabilities for themselves, rather than see their 
 country dragged farther into bondage. Some hope was enter- 
 tained that a little patience might end the fated dynasty, and 
 
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 ••■ 1 
 
 WILLIAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 95 
 
 ;) 
 
 give them their own Princess of Orange as their sovereign, but 
 even this hope was blighted on June loth, 1688, when the 
 queen, James' second wife, Mary of Modena, presented the 
 king with a son. The country was now threatened with the 
 succession of a Popish king; and with the memories of the in- 
 famous Mary, and the example and persecuting excesses of 
 James, you cannot wonder that every true Englishman 
 longed to save his country from a repetition of such calamities. 
 All delay must now cease. The time for action has come, 
 unless England would sink even lower into falsehood and stag- 
 nant putrescence and loathsomeness. On the last day of June, 
 1688, (the day of the acquittal of the seven bishops) the ever- 
 memorable invitation of England was sent secretly to William, 
 Prince of Orange, signed by the noble Lords Danby, Devon- 
 shire, Shrewsbury, Lumley, Russell, Sidney, and the Bishop of 
 London, and with them, men of all ranks and parties cordially 
 united. William, apart from his alliance with the English 
 crown, had proved himself worthy of the confidence placed in 
 him. His great generalship, his able statesmanship, his deep 
 and passionate devotion to the cause of civil and religious 
 liberty, eminently fitted him to champion the popular cause. 
 William set himself in great earnest to prepare for the expedi- 
 tion, and respond to the invitation of the people of England. 
 His preparations were at first concealed, and then open. 
 All classes at home aided him by loans, and in every way pos- 
 sible, to expedite his equipment. October i6th, everything was 
 ready. The prince took solemn leave of the States, amid 
 general grief. He affectionately committed the princess to 
 their care and protection, and then proceeded to the place of 
 embarkation, and entered upon the perilous enterprise that 
 was to bring him so much anxiety and glory. His fleet con- 
 sisted of 52 men of war, 25 frigates, 25 fire-ships, 400 trans- 
 ports, 15,000 soldiers, 6,000 horses, and 30,000 muskets, with 
 Marshal Schomberg next in command. On the topmost of 
 William's vessel floated the Union Jack, bearing the inscrip- 
 tion : "The Protestant Religion and Liberties of Eng- 
 land." He left harbor on the 1 9th, but during the night a violent 
 storm did him some damage, and he returned to port to wait and 
 repair. The news soon reached England that the Dutch fleet 
 was wrecked; James was beside himself with joy. He believed 
 
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96 
 
 WILFJAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 fP 
 
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 all the false rumors of disaster that were circulated, because the 
 host had been raised in the Roman Catholic Church for seven 
 days. But November ist t/ie Protestant whid, so long prayed 
 for, began to blow, and the prince aj^ain sailed for the English 
 coast. Dartmouth, who with the English fleet, was appointed 
 to watch and intercept the Dutch fleet, had to remain in Ports- 
 mouth; for the wind, so favorable to William, was unfavorable to 
 him. William at first made as though he would go north, and 
 land on the eastern coast of England, and the English army 
 was signalled to move north with all speed, when William sud- 
 denly tacked about and ran before the fair Protestant wind 
 down the English Channel into Torbay, which he reach- 
 ed November 4th. He landed his troops and equipments, 
 November 5th, 1688, amid the loud demonstrations 
 and hearty welcome of those sturdy Devons ; and soon 
 both Dutch and English mingled in a thanksgiving psalm 
 and prayer to the All-giver. William marched, unopposed, to 
 Exeter, where he waited for the proofs of the nation's devotion 
 to him and the cause. The common people flocked by thou- 
 sands to his standard ; but William's patience was much tried by 
 the hesitation and slowness of the nobility. At length a few 
 came over, then more, and then they began to flock daily into 
 his camp. Plymouth surrendered to William without a shot — 
 then other places followed the example. William was anxious 
 to avoid battle. He came to win, not to conquer ; to concili- 
 ate and serve, not to fight the English people ; and so he card- 
 fully avoided a battle which might wound *he English pride, or 
 imperil his own safety. His course was wuse. His manifesto 
 drew the heart of the English nation to him. Soon, James' army 
 at Salisbury was so reduced by desertions, he dared not risk a 
 battle; for even Churchill, his great captain, and Prince George, 
 his son-in-law, had deserted to the Prince of Orange. In this 
 plight the king fled to London, and in consternation summoned 
 all the peers he could find, and begged of them to aid him by 
 their counsel and influence. Some reproached, and others ad- 
 vised him. Amid counsels so pa'nful and humbling, the king 
 felt ill at ease, and adjourned the council until the next day, but 
 with the distinct pledge that a general parliament should be 
 immediately called, for which he caused the writs to be pre- 
 pared in their presence. He retired to his room, but arose at 
 
 1 
 
WILLIAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 97 
 
 midnight, destroyed the writs, took the great seal, went to the 
 bank of the Thames, where a boat was waiting for him, and 
 while crossing the river, flung the great seal into the water, and 
 fled to Fevershara, Dec. loth. He was arrested, discovered, 
 and brought back to London ; but on the iSth he again fled to 
 Rochester, with the connivance of William, and on the 23rd 
 left England, and landed in France the last day of the year. 
 For a few days, while London was without a king, mob law, to 
 some extent, prevailed. The Roman Catholics were molested, 
 and, in some cases, plundered. In the fray. Judge Jeff"reys, 
 carefully disguised, was seized at a Whapping ale house. The 
 wonder is that he was not lynched. He was carried before the 
 Lord Mayor, amid wild shouts for vengeance, while he, in ter- 
 ror, shrieked out : " For God's sake keep them off"; keep them 
 off." Committed as a jmsoner to the tower of London, 
 while there, awaiting his trial, a friend sent him a present for 
 immediate use. It looked like a barrel of oysters, of which 
 Jeffreys was very fond. " Ha! " said he, "I have some friends 
 left yet ; " but, when he opened the barrel, he found a rope. 
 All difficulties being removed, k\411iam entered London in tri- 
 umph, December i8th. The day after his entry, when all classes 
 thronged St. James' palace, to congratulate him, May- 
 nard, the oldest lawyer of his time, at the ripe age of ninety 
 years, presented his compliments ; William remarked to him : 
 " You must have survived all the lawyers of your time." "Yes, 
 sir," replied the old man, " and but for your highness I should 
 have survived the laws too." William at once assembled the 
 Lords, temporal and spiritual, and all the members of the late 
 reign, with the municipal authorities of London, and, at their 
 advice, assumed the provincial government. He then summon- 
 ed a regular parliament, who met January the 22nd. On the 
 28th the great vote passed, declaring the throne of England 
 vacant. A final resolution was passed, declaring William and 
 Mary king and queen of England. February 13th, 1689, 
 William accepted the crown amid the rejoicings of the both 
 houses of parliament and the nation. On taking the throne, 
 William IIL issued writs for a regular parliament, whose first 
 great act was to pass the Bill of Rights. By that bill Eng- 
 land's liberties were secured, the Revolution accomplished, and 
 
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 WILLIAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 England became once more a name of power, and a land of 
 freedom. 
 
 IRELAND. 
 
 Some have blamed William for not giving earlier, and more 
 decisive attention to Ireland, suffering, as it was, at the time, 
 from the most lawless and brutal tyranny under the administra- 
 tion ot Tyrconnel. The Earl of Tyrconnel, Richard Talbot, 
 (lying Dick), descended from an old Norman family, long 
 settled in Leinster, Ireland. In youth he was a noted sharper 
 and bully. In after life he won and retained the royal favor by 
 the basest intrigue and falsehoods. He affected the character 
 of an Irish patriot, but, like some others of his countrymen, he 
 took care that his services were well paid. Under a show of 
 levity and wit, he was a cold, crafty schemer. This was the man 
 that King James had made Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and 
 to whom he entrusted the scheme of Roman Catholic ascend- 
 ancy, and the separation of Ireland from the English crown, 
 under French protection. To this man Ireland owes one of 
 the most bloody, cruel, and devastating wars ever waged. 
 William, advised by eminent men, opened negotiations with 
 Tyrconnel, hoping to tempt him to surrender to the regime. 
 Tyrconnel, after some hesitation, was forced by the Irish people 
 to break off negotiations with England, and send an urgent 
 invitation to James to come at once to Ireland, under French 
 protection. James, assisted by French money, accompanied 
 by French general? and ambassadors, and English refugees, 
 and escorted by a French fleet, soon made his appearance in 
 the harbor of Kinsale. He landed March 12th, amid the 
 enthusiasm of the Roman Catholic population; James learned 
 that his cause was prosperous in the south of Ireland ; that the 
 Protestant population had been disarmed and ruined, and that 
 in the north alone, a few held out a little longer. James pro- 
 ceeded to Cork, and was received with military honors by 
 McCarthy, who held the chief command in Munster. He then 
 proceeded to Dublin, the capital. His journey was slow and 
 difficult. The country, naturally rich and beautiful, was then a 
 desert ; even the towns were partially abandoned ; the country 
 mansions were destroyed, and the flocks and herds plundered. 
 The Protestants had been forced to fly, and industry and 
 
WILLIAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 99 
 
 li 
 
 capital had fled with them. At Dublin, a great effort was made 
 to give James a grand reception, and he was hospitably received 
 at the vice-regal palace. The host was raised, and a te denm 
 performed in honor of his arrival. The next day, March 25th, 
 the king held a council, and dismissed the only remaining 
 Protestant judge from the Irish bench, while two Roman 
 Catholics ^nd the French ambassador were sworn in as privy 
 councillors. James then issued a proclamation, convening an 
 Irish parliament, which met at Dublin, May 7th. With the 
 writs, Tyrconnel sent letters to the returning officers, naming 
 the persons whom he wished to see elected, so that of the 250 
 members who took their seats, but 6 were ProtestAits. Of all 
 the parliaments that ever met in the British Isles, this surpasses 
 them all for ignorance, for audacity, for uproar, for spoliation, 
 for injustice. The Act of Settlement was repealed. An Act 
 annulling the authority of the English parliament over Ireland 
 was passed. Then followed confiscations and proscriptions on 
 a large scale. The tithes were transferred to the Romish clergy, 
 and estates, amounting to about ten million acres, divided 
 among the members of parliament, and the Irish gentry. Such 
 was the Irish parliament that sat for ten weeks at Dublin ; a 
 parliament that has served to convince all unprejudiced men 
 what Romish supremacy means. Between his council and his 
 parliament, James had no easy task. The English and Scotch 
 refugees wished to make Ireland a fool for the restoration of 
 James to the British crown, while the Irish party, with 
 Tyrconnel and the French ambassador, wanted to make James 
 a tool for the separation of Ireland, and for making it a French 
 l)rovince at the feet of Rome. James as urged to go north 
 and place himself at the head of the uiy operating there. 
 He went part way, was alarmed by a mesjage of the ai rival of 
 English troops, turned round to go back, when he was again 
 encouraged by another message to go forward to meet his army. 
 The country through which they travelled, notwithstanding its 
 natural fertility, was perfectly wasted by robber bands. Some 
 of the French officers compared it to the Arabian desert. In 
 the north of Ireland, the interest centered in two points where 
 the flower of the Protestant population, the bravest of those 
 who yet remained of their race and faith had fled to make a 
 last heroic stand. 
 
 
 i;i 
 
 Ml 
 
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lOO 
 
 WILLIAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 ENNISKILLEN, 
 
 though the capital of the county of Fermanagh, was then a 
 small place of about eighty houses clustering around an ancient 
 castle. It was built on an island surrounded by the river 
 which joins the two beautiful lakes of Lough Erne. The in- 
 habitants were Protestants, descended from the English 
 colonist. Having received information that two cofn panics of 
 Tyrconnel's soldiers were to be quartered on them, the people 
 of Enniskillen resolved to resist them. Yet how were they to 
 defend themselves with only ten pounds of powder, and twenty 
 old guns, and very feeble walls. They sent an urgent message 
 for the gentry and people of the district to come to their as- 
 sistance, and in a few hours three hundred men were by their 
 side with arms and supplies. Tyrconnel's soldiers were at 
 hand with an armed and lawless peasantry following. 
 The little Protestant band came forth to meet the intruders, 
 and presently put them to flight ; and such was the terror of the 
 soldiers and camp-followers that they did not stop running till 
 theyhadleftthirtymiles behindthem. Elated by their victory, the 
 little community set to work vigorously to arrange for the gov- 
 ernment and the defence of Enniskillen. Gustavus Hamilton 
 was appointed governor, and took up his residence in the castle. 
 Trusty men were drilled and armed, and smith's busily em- 
 ployed to furnish substitutes for swords and guns. 
 
 The Protestants from Munster, Connaught, and Cavan, mi- 
 grated en masse to Enniskillen. Whole towns were left without 
 an inhabitant, while, through mud, and storm, and floods, 
 might be seen men, women, and children, half famished, pres- 
 sing to the little town for shelter, and there they found it, 
 through long and fearful months of suspense. Thougrh the 
 number of fighting men at Enniskillen never exceeded four 
 thousand^ they waged a vigorous war against the marauding 
 savages, encountered large bodies of regular troops on six dif- 
 ferent occasions, amid the greatest privations and difficulties, 
 yet they never lost courage or hope until July 30th, 1689, saw 
 them conquerors at the b-ittie of Newtox Butler. 
 
 LONDONDERRY. 
 
 The chief interest centred in Londonderry. That was the 
 largest place, and the greatest stronghold. The city of Derry 
 
 M 
 
WILLIAM OF ORANC.E. 
 
 lOI 
 
 was built on tne slope and summit of a hill, overlooking the 
 river Foylc. On the highest ground stood the cathedral, 
 which, during the siege, answered a three-fold purpose. On 
 the tower a cannon was planted, in the vaults the stores were 
 kept, and within the body of the church the people met daily to 
 worship God. ^'he city was surrounded by a wall of about a 
 mile in circumference, with here and there guns mounted for 
 defence. Altogether the means of defence would be deemed 
 feeble by a besieging army. IJut into that city had gathered 
 about thirty thousand pcoph\ refugees from the surrounding 
 country who fled there, fainting with terror to lind an asylum 
 from the cruel soldiery and the still more cruel swarm of religi- 
 ous fanatics, who, urged by the priests and the greed of gain, 
 went forth like a swarm of locusts to devour and to destroy. 
 Among the people crowded together within the little fortress 
 were tw(niy'five ministers and alwut sei'en thousand fighting::; men. 
 They were men, these Protestant Anglo-Saxons. English and 
 vScotch, Episcopalians and Presbyterians forgot all differences in 
 their common danger and their common Protestantism, There 
 in their last refuge of liberty the dauntless race turned desper- 
 ately to bay and held out during a seige of one hundred and Jive 
 days, amid privations and odds that have made it one of the 
 grandest chapters of heroism recorded in history. Turn aside 
 and see this great sight for a little while. The Earl of Antrim 
 had received orders from Tyrconnel to march with his army and 
 take possession of Londonderry. The people were alarmed and 
 urged resistance. The governor was timid, and, with the Rom- 
 ish council that had been forced upon the city, wanted to sur- 
 render. Antrim's troops were drawn up on the opposite bank 
 c f the Foyle, and a detachment of the army crossed the ferry 
 and presented themselves at the city gate, demanding admit- 
 tance. At that moment thirteen young apprentices flew to the 
 guardroom, armed themselves, seized the keys of the city, rushed 
 to the ferry-gate, and closed it in the face of the officers, while 
 James Morrison, from the wall, advised the intruders to leave- 
 But they remained before the gate in consultation till they 
 heard him cry: "Bring a great gun this way." They then 
 hastened to rejoin their comrades on the other side of the river. 
 Presently the whole city was armed, the gates were closed, and 
 -sentinels faced the rami)arts, and Antrim retired with his army 
 
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 102 
 
 WILLIAM OF ORANC'.E. 
 
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 to Coleraine. The resistance of Derry fearfully irritated Tyr- 
 connel, who cursed his wig as usual. He then tried to win the 
 city by the persuasion of poor, ill-fated Mountjoy,and failing that, 
 the Lord Lieutenant sent a larger army to crush Derry. Rich- 
 ard Hamilton, with his army and camp-followers, halted a few 
 miles south of the city, hoping that the mere sight of the Irish 
 army would terrify the garrison into submission, but they were 
 soon undeceived. Robert Lunday, the governor, wanted to 
 surrender the city, and was in secret communication with the 
 enemy. When Colonel Cunningham, who had been sent out 
 from England with two regiments to reinforce the garrison, 
 anchored in the bay, and with some of his officers, went on shore 
 to confer with the governor; Lunday dissuaded him from land- 
 ing his troops. " The place," he said, " cannot hold out." To 
 this advice Cunningham and his officers agreed, and re-embarked 
 for home. Historians have differed about Lunday, whether he 
 was a traitor or a coward^ 1 think that he was both. 
 
 'J'he Irish army, with King James himself at their head, ap- 
 proached near the city to surround and take it. Lunday ordered 
 that there should be no firing, but Major Baker and Captain 
 Murray called the people to arms, while that aged minister, 
 George Walker, stirred the people to bold resistance. De- 
 mosthenes declaiming against Philip, of Macedon, was not more 
 eloquent than George Walker stirring the people of Derry to 
 fight for faith and freedom. Right grandly the people respond- 
 ed to the old man, eloquent. James, confident of success, ap- 
 proached within a hundred yards of the southern gate, but he 
 was met with a shout of : " NO SURRENDER," while a vol- 
 ley from the nearest gun killed a staff officer by his side. The 
 king hastened out of reach of cannon. Lunday, who hid him- 
 self during the day, escaped by night in disguise with those on 
 his side, and during the night an officer found the gates open 
 and the keys missing. But that officer closed the gates, changed 
 the password, doubled the guard, and saved the city. Major 
 Baker was now chosen to the chief military command and 
 George Walker to preserve civil order and to deal out the sup- 
 plies. In a few hours every man knew his place and was ready 
 at the call of duty. James, after waiting in vain for the surren- 
 der, sent a trumpeter to the gate to require the fulfilment of the 
 governor's promise. The answer was, " We have nothing to- 
 
Wn.I.IAM OF ORANGK. 
 
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 do with the governor, and will resist to the last." James, 
 baffled and disappointed, returnid to Dublin, leaving the French 
 general, Maumont, chief in command. The besiegers now com- 
 menced in earnest to fire upon the city. Soon it was in flames 
 in several places. Roofs and chinmeys fell and the peoi)le were 
 terror-stricken amid ror/>se and debris, 'ihe spirit oitiie people 
 rose with their danger. A sortie was made under the command 
 of Captain Murray and a severe battle ensued. Maumont and 
 several of his bfficers and a large number of his troops were slain 
 or mortally wounded, and Murray v/as saved by a number of 
 his friends rushing from the gate to his rescue. Hamilton was 
 again in charge of the Irish army. A fortni^(;ht later another 
 sortie was etjually successful. In June a desperate assault was 
 made upon the city. The Irish army came on boldly and with 
 a shout rushed for the walls. The conflict was severe, but after 
 a fearful slaughter the army was driven back. Through that 
 desperate fight the wonun of Derry were seen behind the walls 
 handing water and supplies to the men. Nothing was left to the 
 besiegers but to try the effects of hunger. Every precaution was 
 taken to prevent food from being introduced into the city — 
 every avenue was closed and guarded — the river was fringed 
 with batter.es, and a barricade was thrown across it. Several 
 boats full of stone were sunk ; a row of stakes driven into the 
 bottom of the river and large timbers bound togeth*?r and fas- 
 tened to the shores formed a boom across the channel. Pre- 
 sently a cry was heard in the British parliament : — " Are those 
 brave fellows in Derry to be deserted i^ a boom across the river ! 
 why isn't it cut ?" A committee of encjuiry was appointed. 
 Lunday and Cunningham were flung into the tower, and an ex- 
 pedition for the relief of Derry was dispatched under the com- 
 mand of Kirke. June 15th, sentinels on the cathedral tower 
 saw thirty vessels at anchor in the Bay of Lough Foyle. Pre- 
 sently the city was informed that Kirke had arrived from Eng- 
 land with supplies. Hope gladdened the people of Derry. The 
 distress was great ; horse flesh was their only meat ; tallow was 
 dealt out sparingly ; the famine ivas fearful. The stock of can- 
 non balls had failed, and the place was supplied by brick bats 
 coated with lead. Pestilence followed in the train of famine and 
 privation, and Governor Baker fell among the victims. Yet 
 Kirke, to his shame, lay at anchor inactive for six weeks, until 
 
 
 '' I 1 
 
 
 
I04 
 
 WILLIAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 orders from England compelled him to move. July advanced 
 and the state of the city became frightful. The inhabitants had 
 been thinned by famine, and disease, and the besiegers fire, until 
 the number of fighting men was reduced to three thousand^ who 
 were weak and exhausted. Yet the attacks were still repelled, 
 and the breaches in the wall promptly repaired. Dogs, fattened 
 on the blood of the slain, were luxuries and sold high. The 
 scrapings of old bones were eagerly swallowed. The rats were 
 hunted and devoured. Yet the people became fublime in their 
 despair, and the note still sounded : *' no .surrender." July 
 30th. The provisions cannot possibly last over one day more. 
 On the 31st Walker has dealt out the last supplies — a-half pound 
 of tallow atid a half pound of salted hide. Faint as he was, 
 Walker assembled the people for worship in the cathedral, 
 where they had often met and earnestly addressed them on that 
 last fearful night of the famine, and then pronounced the bene- 
 diction of God over his starving people. The agony of that last 
 terrible night is indescribable. But, hark ! There is a move- 
 ment on the water, followed by the crack of the boom. Has the 
 barricade given away ? Has relief come to the city at last ? A 
 shout from the Irish camp remind the citizens that the vessi s 
 have run aground in this fearful rebound, though the boom s 
 broken. In a moment a broadside from the good ship Dai 
 mouth stopped the yell of Irish triumph and protected th 
 grounded ship. P'or hours in that dark night the citizens wer 
 in fearful suspense, but the tide is rising and the stranded shi 
 floats again. The Phoenix and Mountjoy dash up to the qu.' 
 and the shout goes up, " The supplies are come." The be i 
 of the city rang out a peal ot triumph, and famine stricken or "< 
 sat down to satisfy their hunger once more. But when the first 
 of August dawned, the seige was raised and the Irish army were 
 in full retreat. The walls of Derry are preserved, and a statue 
 of Walker testifies to the people's gratitude and Walker's abiding 
 fame. 
 
 To follow up the victories of the north, Schomberg was sent 
 with an expedition against Ireland. He landed in Antrim in 
 the middle of August with a force of 10,000 men. He expect- 
 to be joined by a litth band from Derry and Enniskillen and by 
 the regiments so long inactive under Kirke, but a succession of 
 unforseen calamities paralyzed Schomberg's efforts. The Pro- 
 
WILLIAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 105 
 
 testant regiments from the north joined him and proved brave 
 and true, but the EngHsh army were for the most part raw re- 
 cruits, commanded by inexperienced officers, and ill-armed, ill- 
 clad, and ill-housed. The Liberal vote of the English parlia- 
 ment had led Schomberg to expect a good army well supplied. 
 Instead of that the army was robbed and poisoned by negligent 
 and greedy officials, especially by Sholes, the commissary-gene- 
 ral. Schomberg had, therelore, to do his best with such men 
 and supplies as he had. He, however, took several important 
 positions and marched as far as Dundalk. James, who was de- 
 pressed by his disasters in the north, was now in despair at the 
 prospects of facing an English army commanded by so great a 
 general. But the danger, which unnerved the king, roused the 
 Irish people, and urged by the priests and their hatred of Pro- 
 testantism, they rose as one man, crying, '^ Noia or tievcr^ 
 Avaux, the French ambassador, urged James to an infamous 
 atrocity ; a general massacre of the Protestants^ but James shrank 
 from the consequences of the horrible proposal, so that the Pro- 
 testants escaped with imprisonme.nt and the loss of all things. 
 September loth. James, with his Irish army of 50,000. inarched 
 to Drogheda to meet the Protestant army, but James and his 
 French generals knew that raw Irish recruits, however greater 
 their numbers, were not a match for a well disciplined English 
 army. Battle was therefore avoided, and both armies remained 
 on the defensive until forced into winter quarters. The next 
 year, 1690, William determined to go himself over to Ireland. 
 He therefore urged forward the preparation for the campaign 
 with vigor, and carefully superintended the supplies, whilst 
 Schomberg drilled his little army and prepared to join his mas- 
 ter. June 14th. William landed in Ireland and was met at 
 Belfast by Schomberg and his troops. He soon became very 
 popular with his army, for whose comfort he was always anxious. 
 Ten days after his landing, William marched with his combined 
 army southward to meet the enemy. The country, though so 
 desolated, struck William as a fine one, and he remarked, '"This 
 country is worth fighting for," As William advanced, James 
 and his Irish army retired toward Dublin, until on June 30th, 
 William came up to tnem at Donore, in the valley of the Boyne 
 William's exclamation when he caught sight of the Irish army 
 was, " I am glad to see you gentlemen." He carefully surveyed 
 
 
 
 'i 
 
io6 
 
 WILLIAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 the position of the enemv. on the southern bank of the river, 
 and then alighted to breakfast with some of his generals on the 
 turf. While at breakfast a group of horsemen appeared on the 
 opposite shore. They were the chiefs of the Irish army, and 
 soon discovered that the person breakfasting on the opposite 
 shore was King William. They sent for two field pieces, which 
 were brought, screened by cavalry, and as William rose to re- 
 mount, both guns were fired at him. The first shot hit the 
 horse of the Prince of Hesse, the second shot hit William on the 
 shoulder. He sank for a moment on his horse's neck ; the 
 Irish yelled their delight and reported that William was killed. 
 The news soon reached Dublin, and a ship started with the glad 
 news to France. Paris was aroused at midnight bv a courier, 
 shouting the news. In an hour the streets were illuminated, 
 the bells rang, the people feasted, and an effigy of the Prince 
 of Orange was burned with a representation of the devil at his 
 side, saying : " I have waited for thee for years." But William, 
 as soon as his wound was dressed, rode around to inspect and 
 assure his troops and prepare them for the morrow. July ist, 
 1690, dawned bright and clear. There lay the two armies of 
 36,000 each with the river Boyne between them. The signal 
 was given, and the English army dashed into the river. A shout 
 rose from the Irish army, and they rushed madly for the battle. 
 The English army pressed forward to the opposite bank. The 
 Irish began to waver. Tyrconnel looked on in despair. His 
 best officers were slain, or wounded, or captured. Schomberg 
 and other brave men fell on the Protestant side, but William 
 still rode on in front of his brave troops cheering them on to 
 victory. The battle was short, sharp, decisive ; the day was 
 won. Two thousand of the Irish lay dead on the field or in the 
 river, and about five hundred of the English. James fled to 
 Dublin in dismay, followed by his flying troops. The capital 
 was wild. The next morning James fled, and did not rest for 
 fifty miles, till beyond the Wicklow hills. He pressed on to 
 Kinsale, where he embarked on board a French frigate and 
 sailed for France to be again the dependent of Louis XXV. 
 Tyrconnel and the French generals soon followed suit. The 
 baggage and stores of the defeated army fell into the hands of 
 the conquerors,and presently Dublin opened its gates to receive 
 William, and he was the acknowledged conqueror of Ireland, 
 
WILLIAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 107 
 
 S of 
 
 The Protestants were at once liberated from prison and joined 
 William on Sunday, July the 6th, in a service of thanksgivins; in 
 the cathedral. We need not follow Irish affairs into further 
 detail. Tyrconnel's return and death at Limerick, the siege of 
 Limerick, of Athlone, of Galway, the obstinate resistance of the 
 Irish, the final victory of the Protestant cause under Ginkill, 
 and the utter defeat and annihilation of the Irish army ; are 
 they not written in the Chronicles of the Kings of England ? 
 William's fame rose high in England and throughout Europe, 
 and he returned to London in September amid the congratula- 
 tions of the nation. Bi|t there, in England, he had much 
 hard work to do and many difficulties to face. Traitors plotting 
 for his overthrow or murder had their agents everywhere, while 
 party feeling distracted the country. Many were extreme, many 
 were false, so that the king had to encounter almost insurmount- 
 able difficulties of administration. The Anglican party mis- 
 trusted and opposed him. Though the Revolution had saved 
 their Church from utter ruin, the Episcopalians favored James, 
 their enemy, rather than William, their deliverer, because Wil- 
 liam was a Presbyterian, and he, with some of his counsellors, 
 wanted to do justice to the nonconformists. But the Anglican 
 Church could not make up its mind to renounce the luxury of 
 persecution, forgetting that to attempt to check heresy by pains 
 and penalties was only trying to cast out devils by Beelzebub 
 the prince of devils. Consequently all the nonconformist 
 got for saving their country in this great crisis, was a Toleration 
 Act of the most imperfect and unsatisfactory character. 1 hey 
 had to wait one hundred and forty years for the emancipation 
 which the Revolution should have given them. So tried was 
 William by the plottings, the intrigues, the dissensions, the in- 
 gratitude of the parliament and the Church that he once seri- 
 ously contemplated laying aside his crown and retiring to Hol- 
 land as the head of his little commonwealth, but he overcame 
 the temptation, and in spite of all dangers and difficulties re- 
 mained true to England and proved himself, though at times 
 unpopular, a wise and impartial ruler. In January, 1691, Wil- 
 liam, with a splendid retinue, crossed to Holland, where he was 
 most enthusiastically received. At the Hague was convened a 
 great congress of nations over yhich William presided, and 
 which he succeeded in welding into a powerful confederacy 
 
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 WILLIAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 against France. The following May, William sat out for his 
 great campaign on the continent, accompanied by Churchill, 
 afterward the famous Duke of Marlborough. Churchill's ability, 
 and courage, and generalship, no one can question, but his 
 avarice and treachery are an indelible blot on a great name. An 
 important action took place that year and William returned in 
 October. I'liree days afterward he opened parliament ^Yith a 
 speech that was well received, and the supplies he asked for 
 maintaining the war with France were readily granted. In 
 March, 1692, William again sat out for the continent to com- 
 mand the confederate army. He hadjj scarcely left England be- 
 fore a great plan of invasion was discovered ; James, by the aid 
 of France, was about to invade Eng and. The consternation of 
 tlie queen and her advisers was great. The joy of the partizans 
 of James was ill-concealed. Russel urged forward the prepara- 
 tion of the English fleet at Portsmouth, and William hastened 
 out the Dutch fleet to join them. In May, the combined fleet, 
 under Russel, encountered the French fleet. The place of 
 rendezvous was La Hogue. There James, with 30,000 troops, 
 was waiting to be escorted across the channel by the French 
 fleet, under admiral Tourbille. When the French fleet appeared 
 in sight, the line of battle was immediately formed. After a 
 severe fight the French were beaten, and the English burned or 
 destroyed their fleet in the sight of the army and guns of the 
 forts. After this great naval victory of La Hogue, the invasion 
 was at an end. Meanwhile William found his great ability as a 
 diplomatist sorely tested by the jealousies and divisions of the 
 confederate States. It is no small proof of his tact and states- 
 manship that he held them together for seven years till he had 
 humbled and defeated France. During the summer, William 
 fought the great battle of Steinkirk against the flower of the 
 French army under Luxemberg, the first marshal of France. 
 About 7,000 were slain on each side, while both held the same 
 positions after the battle. Just then a great sensation was cre- 
 ated by the discovery of an attempt to assassinate William, and 
 the arrest of the would-be assassin, Grandval, a Frenchman in 
 the employ of the chief minister of France. His confession 
 proved both Louis and James parties to the infamous villainy. 
 In October William returned home and soon after opened his 
 parliament, again to wrangle and divide, the men out of office 
 
WILLIAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 109 
 
 envying and maligning those who were in, so that with the ex- 
 ception of a liberal vote of supplies for the war, and the found- 
 ing of the national debt by borrowing one mill/on pounds, little 
 occurred. The next spring William again departed to the con- 
 tinent to hurry forward his allies and checkmate France. In 
 July he fought the famous battle of Landen. Never was Wil- 
 liam's generalship and bravery more conspicuous. William re- 
 turned home in October, but his parliamentary session was un- 
 eventful, except for founding the Bank of England. The cam- 
 paign w^hich he headed in 1694 was distinguished for the visi- 
 ble turn of fortunes against France, and the king returned to 
 compliment his parliament and people on the prospects on the 
 continent. But a terrible blow was in store for him. The 
 queen was taken ill of small-pox. The disease that had robbed 
 him of his parents was now to finish its desolations of his home. 
 Mary was calm and resigned to the will of God. She commit- 
 ted everything to William's care and made her last effort to bid 
 him an affectionate farewell, and then gently fell asleep in 
 Christ, December 28th, 1694, passing in the prime of her life, 
 and charm of her beauty, and splendor of her powers, to that 
 crown which is incorruptible. William, who had watched in- 
 cessantly by her bedside, was carried insensible from her room. 
 He felt his loss keenly, and in that grief the nation shared. In 
 a coffin of purple and gold she was laid in the chapel of Henry 
 Vn, Westminster Abbey. The king at once proceeded to erect 
 Greenwich hospital as an abiding and worthy monument of one 
 of the best of wives and queens. Dejected as he was over his 
 irreparable loss, W^illiam went to the continent in the spring 
 under a keen sense of duty. The campaign was brilliant and 
 successful in his interest, and on his return home the nation 
 ai)plauded him. He dissolved parliament ; the elections proved 
 a signal success for the Whigs, and in favor of the king. Soon 
 a responsible ?ninisiry was formed, another important step in the 
 development of the constitution. It was followed by the free- 
 dom 0/ the press, a boon of inestimable value. Again the Innd 
 was startled by the discovery of a foul plot to assassinate the 
 king ; a plwt whose malignant and cool blooded details show 
 that it must have been presided over by a cabinet of devils. 
 When you look at the failure of all these attempts, the saying of 
 the old Calvinist preachers, so often sneered at, proves true, 
 
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 WILLIAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 •' That William, of Orange, was another Samson set apart from 
 birth to be the scourge of the modern Philistines." He was 
 certainly raised up by God to champion the cause of freedom, 
 and in spite of a diseased and emaciated body, and the danger 
 of the battle field, and malignant conspirators, he was immortal 
 till his work was done. Presently France was compelled to 
 propose terms of peace, and by the treaty of Ryswick, 1697, 
 Louis, the autocrat of France, the robber of William's child- 
 hood, the scourge of the seventeenth century, was compelled to 
 recognize William as the king of Great Britain, and the arbitra- 
 tor of Europe. 
 
 The struggle between parties in parliament continued with 
 much bitterness. Impeachments were not infrequent. The 
 Jacobites still plotted. The Whigs and Tories still criminated 
 each other. William was often angry, weary, disgusted, but 
 nothing grieved him more than the parliament reducing his 
 army and dismissing his Dutch troops, but he managed himself 
 and his parliament with admirable tact, and to the last he 
 showed that great administrative ability which had long dis- 
 tinguished him. James died September i6th, 1701, and Louis 
 committed the double blunder of violating the treaty of Rys- 
 wick, and insulting William and the English by acknowledging 
 James, the Pretender. William instantl) dismissed the French 
 ambassador and recalled his own. The grand alliance was 
 formed, which entered upon a vigorous war with France, and by 
 a fearful outlay of men and money, under the command of the 
 Duke of Marlborough, crushed and defeated France. But that 
 great humiliation of his proud rival, William did not live to wit- 
 ness. Unfortunately by an accident William was thrown from 
 his horse while riding in the park. Ke broke his collar bone. 
 It was set, and he appeared to be recovering, but alarming 
 symptoms soon appeared and he sank rapidly. Sunday, March 
 8th, 1702, he passed away in great peace to the rewards of 
 eternity, while his body was interred in Westminster Abbey, 
 amid the general grief of a great nation. 
 
 Do you ask why this strong effort to maintain the ascendancy 
 of Protestantism and defeat the power of Rome ? Is not the 
 difference between Romanism and Protestantism one of mere 
 detail in creed, in the accessories to worship, in the form of 
 ecclesiastical polity ? We answer, no. The difference is one 
 
 t ! 
 
WILLIAM OF ORANGE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 H 
 
 i 
 
 of principle, of truth, of vital and supreme importance. Roman 
 Catholicism is the representative ot the worst evils that have 
 desolated Christendom. It plunged Europe into the darkness 
 of centuries ; it has ever been the foe of intellectual freedom, 
 and the ally of political despotism. Through the Jesuits it has 
 reduced equivocation and lying to a science. It has invented 
 cruelties more atrocious than Paganism itself. It has sought to 
 repress with sword and torture every noble struggle for liberty 
 and truth. It is drunk with the blood of saints, for whose 
 massacre it has not even apologized. To-day it teaches justifi- 
 cation by works, not by faith ; the confession of sin to a priest, 
 not to God ; the mediation of the virgin, not of Christ ; the 
 bodily presence of Jesus in the sacramental bread and wine, not 
 His spiritual presence everywhere as the Master promised. 
 Protestantism, on the other hand, teaches the right of private 
 judgment on religious questions, so that every man may worship 
 God according to the dictates of his own conscience ; the su- 
 preme authority of Holy Scripture as the rule of faith and prac- 
 tice ; the direct access of the soul to God ; and urges every 
 burdened supplicant to spurn the intervention of priest or pope, 
 and to look to Christ as the only way to the Father ; and bids 
 the most guilty and ungladdened prodigal to come straight 
 home to God and share the banquet without money and without 
 price. If to accept Roman Catholicism means the sacrifice of 
 that honest enquiry which has wrested from material nature her 
 secrets ; the sacrifice of that sturdy self-reliance which has de- 
 veloped so many types of true moral heroism ; the sacrifice of 
 that earnest religious life which has been nurtured by the direct 
 communion of man with God ; and in its place to have an en- 
 slaved mind, a drugged conscience, a palsied soul, under the 
 withering simoon of sacerdotal usurpation, then I say, in spite 
 of all her faults, give me Protestantism with her robust man- 
 hood, her intellectual triumplis, her stern virtues, her passion 
 for freedom, her inalienable ii^^hts, her loyalty to Christ. 
 
 ill 
 
 \\' 
 
 ll'H 
 
 - 
 
I! 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 
 
 AN ORDINATION CHARGE. 
 
 II 'it 
 
 1 f' 
 
 i 
 
 THE MINISTER S WORK. 
 
 N entering upon the work of the Christian ministry, you 
 are met by the instruction given to Jonah, "Preach the preac- 
 ingthat I bid thee ;" that, and only that, is your commission. 
 There you are limited, but within a very wide field, embrac- 
 ing the greatest and grandest themes. The Christian minister may 
 and should speak on questions of the day, but with careful dis- 
 crimination. His chief work is to discuss the topics which re- 
 late to the revealed Word of God ; and surely, if the greatest 
 scholars and preachers, in all ages and lands, have confessed 
 that God's vVord hath depths no plummet yet has fathomed, 
 and that as their own life became broader and deeper in its ex- 
 perience, so their apprehensions of the Divine AVord expanded 
 on every side, no preacher, to-day, need despair of finding ex- 
 haustless themes within the Word of Him that liveth and 
 abideth forever. That Word, commencing with the sublime 
 thesis of Creation, and stretching on to the tragic drama of the 
 last day, embraces within its range, all the subjects vital to man, 
 — all the beliefs that he is to accept, all the doctrines that he 
 is to teach, all the precepts by which he is to be guided, all the 
 promises by which he is to be sustained, all the blessings he is 
 justified to expect ; and it is the duty of the preacher, in langu- 
 age the most simple, pointed and searching, to proclaim the 
 whole counsel of God. To speak of God — His character and 
 perfections and administrations — as He has been pleased to re- 
 veal Himself in His own Word. To speak of Christ, — His per- 
 son, His divinity, His word, His sufferings, His death — as He 
 
 i\ 
 
THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 
 
 113 
 
 is shown forth in the New Testament Scriptures. To speak of 
 the Spirit, His personality and Godhead and power, as taught 
 in the Scriptures. To teach those great doctrines which are 
 the foundation and keystone of the temple of truth. To press 
 home those warnings by which sin is everywhere rebuked and 
 manacled, so that men may see the sternness, the fierceness of 
 God's terrible wrath against sin. To teach with fullness and ex- 
 plicitness, those Christian virtues and duties which are the 
 essence of a holy character and life. To meet the far-piercing 
 glances, and hungry-cries of man's soul, by opening up the 
 wealth and glory of his spiritual relations with God in Christ 
 Jesus, and to stretch upward man's vision and faith, to the re- 
 wards of the eternal life beyond. And in leading public worship, 
 in expounding the Scriptures, in laying bare man's lost state 
 through sin, and holding up Christ's cross over the field of 
 human want and woe, the most brilliant talent, the most impas- 
 sioned oratory, may exhaust its finest powers in endeavoring to 
 save them that hear. I must warn you against exercising your- 
 selves on toj^ics that are visionary, and preaching to men that 
 never hear, while the living are sent empty away. I have not 
 words sufficiently strong to rebuke — to utter my scornful loath- 
 ing of that minister, whose sermons are but spoken essays, em- 
 bellished — nay, its thoughts crowded out of sight — by rhetori- 
 cal figures and words ! words ! ! words ! ! ! Sermons that show 
 the poor miserable vanity of the preacher, and magnificently 
 hit at nothing. Oh, I urge, ^'t"^ the flock over which the Holy 
 Ghost hatli made you overseers ; and if a man ask bread do not 
 give him a stone. Do not shrink from denouncing the evil 
 passions of our fallen nature ; the envy, the jealousy, the pride, 
 the love of money, the advantage-taking, the rascalities of trade^ 
 the drunkenness, the scheming and undue striving after power, 
 which is the parent of innumerable wrongs and agonies. Speak 
 to every man all the words of this life ; and charge home the 
 message you have received from the Most High, upon the con- 
 science and life of your hearers,'warning every man and teaching 
 every man, tha". you may present every man perfect in Christ 
 Jesus. Set your faces like flint, against all narrowness of 
 thought, or isms of contentious dogma ; everything, in fact, that 
 is unscriptural, and proclaim the universal language of God's, 
 love and commandment to mankind. Do not be preaching 
 
 III 
 
 . 1 
 
 •m 
 
u 
 
 I 
 
 114 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 
 
 I 
 
 hobbies and whims, and thus degrade the pulpit to an arena 
 where you may show up your peculiar notions or dress, on cus- 
 toms, on social questions, unanswered. If you want to contend 
 about meat and drinic, and divers washings, and carnal ordinan- 
 ces, go to the public Journals, and state your views where they 
 may be answered — if they are worth answering — but don't 
 stand in an unassailable position, and take advantage of the 
 most sacred spot on earth. Lee your pulpit be true and abid- 
 ingly faithful to the perfect will of %Dd, so that you may com- 
 mend yourselves to every man's conscience in the sight of God. 
 Then, my Brethren, will you find a theme worthy of your best 
 powers, your life's ministry, and a spliere within which all the 
 philanthropy of your nature may open itself in the most Christ- 
 like service. There you will meet lost men, all lacerated and 
 bleeding, and be privileged to point them to Him who came to 
 seek and to save that which was lost. There you will nveet 
 with the victims of overwhelming temptation — men who have 
 succumbed to the demon force, and gone down fearfully, and 
 be permitted to assist in snatching them from the great wreck, 
 and aid their upward course, till the last trace ot the enemy's 
 fire is gone, and they are sitting at the feet of Jesus, restored 
 and in their right mind. There you will meet with struggling, 
 suffering, careworn men, who hardly know how to hold on and 
 hold out, and in all confidence be able to direct them to Him 
 who will keep that which is committed unto Him. And as you 
 thus influence and direct the life and destiny of all classes of 
 mankind, and hold the cup of life to the lips of a perishing 
 world, you must feel the greatness of your work, and the 
 tremendous issues that result from the preaching of that Word, 
 which is the savor of life unto life, or of death unto death. 
 
 THE minister's QUALIFICATIONS. 
 
 I am not about to justify or defend God's wisdom, in giving 
 prominence to preaching as a means of communicating His 
 Word and promoting the best interests of mankind. God's ways 
 are above the need of human apology. But assuming that you 
 are called of God to preach His Word — and I want you to be 
 clear at the outset, that you are called and chosen of God to 
 this work — as a mere man-made or self-chosen ministry, is a 
 poor, pitiable thing. According to the example furnished in 
 
THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 
 
 II 
 
 
 the book of Acts, the man-chosen Matthias contrasts most un- 
 favorably with the God-chosen Paul. Feeling that the ministry 
 is your sphere, remember that you are to preach the Word ; not 
 argue certain questions with all the baffling niceties of meta- 
 physical hair-splitting, or self-gratification ; not perform certain 
 rites and mummeries of ritual, but preach effectively, the fulness 
 of the blessings of the Gospel of Christ. And to do this, I 
 must urge you to observe certain important qualifications ; 
 qualifications that gather around the central thought, a true^ in- 
 telligent^ consecrated^ manhood. 
 
 The man must be first considered — gifts, elocutionary train- 
 ing, scholastic culture— all that can be put on from without, 
 will amount to little if there is no true manliness behind it. 
 There must be manly robustness, common-sense, generousness, 
 and inward greatness, or there is nothing to train and develop. 
 
 The man must be good. To teach effectually a noble life re- 
 quires a noble example ; weight of character gives weight to 
 words, while insincerity, or inconsistency, neutralizes the best 
 discourses. When the Divine life is strong in a minister, he can 
 best hope to direct and quicken the life of others ; therefore the 
 preacher must go often into those hushed solitudes where God 
 holds whispered communion with men, that he may break his 
 deepest secrets, and roll his conscious sins on the Sin-Bearer, 
 that he may come out fresh from the Divine Master's presence, 
 shining with the resplendent flame. 
 
 The man must be cmrageous. Preaching must have the ring 
 of authoritative certainty, the authority inherent in truth, and 
 the certainty born of honest conviction. Doubts should never 
 be proclaimed till they have ripened into convictions. Some 
 preachers weaken their message by an indecisive mode of state- 
 ment, leaving the impression that they are timid, or only half 
 persuaded. Such hesitation paralyzes belief. It does not be- 
 come the bearei of God's message, to speak with bated breath 
 or lisping hesitancy ; but rather to copy those who declared 
 boldly, the Word of the Lord Jesus, and commanded the ear 
 and confidence of those who heard them, by that very accent of 
 authority. Courage in the preacher, will give decision, respect, 
 strength and power to his teaching. 
 
 The man must be sympathetic. The preacher must not be a 
 starched, stiffened, unbending, kid-gloved fossil, with no throb- 
 
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 It. if 
 
 m 
 
 >3< 
 
 II; 
 
 ii M 
 
ii6 
 
 IHK CHRISriAN MINISTRY, 
 
 i 
 
 ■H; 
 
 binRS and heart-yearnings, and sympathies that interlock so- 
 ciety. He must rather adopt the motto of the celebrated 
 Roman : ** I am a man, and whatever concerns man concerns 
 me." He must be the brother of those to whom he ministers. 
 We shall never have power with men, unless we can throw our- 
 selves into their positif)ns, and understand and honestly feel 
 with them and for them. J.arge hearted sympathy, that wins 
 the heart of the people, will ensure an attentive ear and a re- 
 sponsive heart. 
 
 The man must be whole-hearted, Paul's exhortation was, 
 " (live thyself wholly to these things, that thy ])rofiting may ap- 
 pear." A preacher must feel that the ministry is the one great 
 business of his life, and not allow himself to be exhausted by 
 other occu|)ations. Whatever objects may claim his attention, 
 or tempt his speculation, or seek to divide his mind, nothing 
 can justify him before God, in ne2;lecting the spiritual guidance 
 and life of his flock ; and a man should either instantly retire 
 from a work that he purposely dishonors by a partial and di- 
 vided service, or throw his whole soul and powers faithfully into 
 the work. 
 
 And now, having asked you to consider the man in his man- 
 liness, robed in the garments of goodness, courage, tenderness, 
 and undivided consecration, I ask you to mark some of the 
 qualifications that the preacher should acquire. 
 
 The ])reacher must acquire knoiuled^e. The mind and intel- 
 lect must be cultivated by a sound and thorough education, 
 whether acquired at the schools, or by the persistent efforts of 
 self-application. No man can impart what he has not ; you 
 might as well expect a ])auper to bequeath estates to posterity, 
 as to expect the man whose brain is an uncultivated waste, to 
 mould and train and bless thinking men. To command re- 
 spect, a man must know the Scriptures, and avail himself of all 
 necessary assistance, to gain a more extended and critical ac- 
 quaintance with everything that will open up the wealth of 
 God's Word, and furnish a))t and suggestive illustrations of its 
 principles and teachings. No matter whether found in science, 
 or nature, or art, in the heavens above or earth beneath ; ac- 
 quire all the knowledge you can upon every conceivable sub- 
 ject, and let me urge you to study men as well as books. Some 
 ministers are too bookish ; they shut themselves up in their 
 
IHE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 
 
 «>7 
 
 Study with their books too much, for that at best is only half an 
 education. Seek to know the material upon which you operate. 
 Therefore study human nature, know the lecUngs and passions, 
 and susceptabiHiicM, and strug!;lcs^ and conditions, and springs 
 of action, and avenue?* ')!" the soul. Move through the world 
 with a discriminating eye, sipplenient close study with a keen 
 observation, and a thuiough knowledge of the society around 
 you. For your own sake as well as for your people's, you must 
 \iQ pastors^ moving (rc'ly ; nd tenderly among your people, that 
 you may know them, and instruct them, and bless them, and by 
 proi)er industry you will not lack either the time for hard private- 
 study, or for doing the work of a pastur, in visiting the sick, and 
 ministering to every man as he needs. I repeat, be diligent to 
 acquire knowledge of every sort, and make careful preparation 
 for the pulpit. Don't sin against CJod, or insult the people by 
 going up and down idly all the week, and then offering on the 
 Sabbath that which cost you nothing. That God who rejected 
 the blind and the lame in ancient times, will not accept a vain 
 and corrupt sacrifice now. Don't suppose that what you have 
 acquired is a stock for a lifetime. Unless you go on ever ac- 
 (juiring the cistern will soon run out, and the people get tired of 
 sediment. Bring to your pulpit freshness, orginality, thought, 
 food, the fruit of careful industry : rely on it, what you compose 
 •easily, your hearers will forget as soon ; but what is born of the 
 rigid travail, and fasting, and self sacrifice, will yield nourish- 
 ment for years to come. 
 
 The preacher must observe the graces of manner^ and the art of 
 preaching. From the great prominence given by (Jod to the 
 preaching of His Word, it is clear that He has designed that 
 men should utter the truth with all the advantages of intona- 
 tion, gesture, look, manner ; and to undervalue a good manner, 
 or the art of elocution, and the skillful management of the voice 
 and delivery, is to reflect upon the wisdom of God. You say 
 that a good voice should be trained to sing, that a skilled brain 
 .should be trained for the mechanical art, or their fine powers 
 will be wasted. Still more necessary is it to train the public 
 speakers to the most persuasive and effective delivery of the 
 Divine message to man. Look at the example of the greatest 
 l)reachers in every age and land, and you see that their ma7i- 
 ners^ quite as much, or more than their matter, was the secret 
 
 it :'* 
 
ii8 
 
 J'HE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 
 
 a 
 
 3! 
 
 ■i'l 
 
 f ! 
 
 of their wonderful power and influence over their hearers. Take 
 a case of two preachers, and let them preach precisely the sam'e 
 sermons, adopt the same line of argument, and appeal to the 
 facts, but their style is different; the one has an ear for modula- 
 tion and emphasis, and knows the magic influence of a felicitous 
 and forceful phrase, the other lets his words tumble out as 
 they will ; the one summonses to his aid all the accessories of 
 skilled and life-like delineation, the other limits himself to the 
 monotony and bareness of simple detail. Is there any difference 
 in the effect produced ? Why, the one has carried all convic- 
 tions and hearts along with him, and attracted, and melted, and 
 swayed his audience at will ; but the words of the other have 
 fallen on the ear of the audience with an insipid flatness, and 
 left the hearers cold, unmoved, inattentive, careless. Every- 
 thing that will add to your power in the pulpit, you should 
 adopt. Let the features glow and flash with the radiance of 
 oratory, or burn with the animation and earnestness of a fervent 
 soul. Guard against awkwardness, or slovenliness, or unnatural- 
 ness. Let your countenance and gesture vary with the subject 
 of your discourse, so that your whole appearance may preach, 
 and win, and melt, and inspire the audience. Let the eye^ let 
 the smile, let ihtfrown, let the tniir^ person preach. 
 
 The preacher must be impassioned, and thoroughly in earnest. 
 I do not say that you should put on earnestness, or feign feel- 
 ings of which you are not sincerely conscious. I can think of 
 nothing more reprehensible, more basely hypocritical, than for 
 a preacher to appear to weep, or pretend to emotions which are 
 not genuine ; feeling and emotions should always be the up- 
 welling of an aroused soul. But the preacher must cultivate 
 earnestness, and by all means arouse himself to the most fervent 
 and impassioned devotion to and in his work. The conscious- 
 ness that his words are his Master's should quicken a speaker's 
 power with an energy beyond his own ; for the Master's honor 
 and dominion over souls may be largely determi'ied by the way 
 in which the message is declared, while the salvation, or dam- 
 nation of men may greatly hinge on the preacher's own sin- 
 cerity, and the very possibility of souls being lost forever through 
 his carelessness, or being saved forever amid the wealth and 
 splendor of heavenly citizenship, by the pleading urgency of his 
 manner, should inspire the preacher with the most fervid en- 
 
THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 
 
 119 
 
 I' 
 
 thusiasm. Don't be afraid that men shall brand you mad ; only 
 let them see that if you are besi'""e yourself it is for Christ. 
 Show them that Christianity has still fire enough in its mighty 
 heart to kindle the most impassioned service, and that the love 
 of Jesus can yet constrain to the most heroic daring, and self- 
 sacrificing life, and that when fire from off the Divino altar 
 touches the lips, tremulous with loving entreaty, or eloquent 
 with irresistible appeal, you must preach as one that must give 
 an account. 
 
 THE minister's EXPERIENCE. 
 
 Your experience in common with all preachers has been and 
 will be both discouraging and encouraging. You have often 
 been disheartened and weary, and readv to give up the work 
 under a sense of failure. But I would like you for a moment 
 to look at the reasons why you sometimes fail. Perhaps you de- 
 plore the limited sympathy and support you have sometimes re- 
 ceived in your work, but it may be that there is something in 
 your spirit, or temper or manner, that alienates hearts, that 
 would otherwise be with you. It may not be easy or pleasant 
 to work with you ; you may repel sympathy, and hinder co- 
 operation. Then the cause of failure is greatly with yourself 
 Or perhaps you sought chiefly your own self-interst. It may be 
 that in the prosecution of the work, your first anxiety was the 
 gratification of your own ambition ; you were specially anxious 
 to gain distinction, to shine, to obtain the praise of men, to 
 gain position and power ; and when you preached your best, 
 and lifted up the dear cross of Jesus before the fallen, it was 
 that you might draw all eyes to yourself. After preaching, you 
 were very anxious to know what the people thought of you, and 
 you watch more eagerly for their opinions than for their souls. 
 While such feelings hold sway, failure is your only salvation. 
 Or it may be that you have failed to comply with the conditions 
 of success. 
 
 To succeed, requires much prayer ; and you may have prayed 
 but little. To succeed requires careful preparation, diligence 
 and self-denial ; and you may have been careless, idle and self- 
 indulgent. To succeed requires a holy life ; you may have been 
 inconsistent. To succeed requires constant dependence on 
 God ; and vou may have gone forth without vividly recollecting 
 that dependence. So that you had no right to look for success. 
 
 
 fig 
 
 ^li' 
 
I20 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 
 
 I I 
 
 i I 
 
 while you were regardless of the conditions upon which it de- 
 pends. Failure, under such circumstances, is deserved, and 
 should provoke humiliation and tears. 
 
 But there have been times when you have apparently failed, 
 when you were consistent and in earnest, and deserved to suc- 
 ceed. When Christ was the theme, and His glory the upper- 
 most thought ; when the spiritual interests of men pressed upon 
 you with overwhelming anxiety, and you travailed in birth for 
 souls. When the sorrows and destinies of the world made you 
 humble before the immortality of man, and the nearness of the 
 pending judgment, and the awful solemnity of the unseen 
 eternity. Many of your hopes and plans and prayers have ap- 
 parently come to naught. You denounced falsehood, but still 
 it flourishes. You ventured to expose vice, but still it abounds. 
 You tried to defend trampled principles and build up a living 
 Church, but the task seemed too nuch for you. You spoke to 
 ])eopie about the beauties of Christ's likeness, and yet few 
 seemed changed into the same image. You labored for the un- 
 converted, but most of them remain unconverted still. You 
 counseled the young, and watched anxiously for their consecra- 
 tion, but they grew up and passed out into the world, apparently 
 lost ; some that you have faithfully warned, you have followed 
 to the Lrave, without hope. From the ])urest services you ever 
 performed, you have sometimes, half crushed, gone in to wail, 
 " Who hath believed our report, and to whom is the arm of the 
 Lord revealed." In such moments, my Brethren, I ask you to 
 remember that God's Word shall not return unto Him void. 
 The seed may be hidden, and the harvest deferred, but it shall, 
 it must grow and ripen in Gods own time, into abundant fruit- 
 fulness, and a glorious harvest ; for they that sow in tears shall 
 reap in joy. The day is coming when you will see that you 
 have not only stayed the progress of evil, and lightened the 
 burdens of not a fev,', but that there is less sin, less sorrow, less 
 dishonor to God, than if you had not lived and preach?d, that 
 there are more souls saved, and more hearts throb forever with 
 the life of God, because you struggled and labored for Jesus ; and 
 instead of being forsaken at last, and dishonored, and starless in 
 eternity, you shall then wake up to the immeasurable glory of 
 faithtul service, and the grandeur and divinity of being workers 
 together with God. 
 
 ■i \ 
 
SERMON 1. 
 
 CHRIST CRUCIFIED. 
 
 For the Jews require a sign, and the Greeks seek after tvisdom; but we 
 
 preach Christ crucified vnto the Jews a stumbling-block and unto the 
 
 Greeks Joolishness, but urto them which are called, both Jews and 
 
 Greeks, Christ, the power of God, and the, wisdom of God. — i. cor., 
 
 I. 22-24. 
 
 I HE Jews and the Greeks are the two races and nations 
 that have most deeply and beneficially left their trace 
 upon the world. Looking at their limited geographical 
 area — one a narrow strip on the southern shore, the 
 other a small peninsula on the north of the Mediterranean Sea, 
 — no one would anticipate for them the pre-eminence they 
 gained among the nations of antiquity, or the powerful and 
 permanent influence they have exerted upon the world to this 
 day. The Jews became the centre and vehicle of religious 
 truth. The Greeks became the centre of civilization and cul- 
 ture. The Jews were not remarkable for civilization and refine- 
 ment — as is clear from the Levitical code, and the pains God 
 took with them on minor and minute points, that a high state 
 of refinement would have placed them above — but they were 
 pre-eminently religious. From the time of Abraham to the 
 timesi of Christ the Jews were the constant object of the 
 Divine care and culture. In them and through them God pre- 
 served his truth through many centuries of error and darkness 
 and corruption. Their religion was of God, given from His 
 lips, guided by His precepts, sustained by His presence, per- 
 fected in His worship and service, and after two thousand years, 
 in the days of Christ, the Jews* religion stood before the world 
 as the only Divine religion, filling a place in history that 
 nothing else did or could fill. The Greeks were by no means 
 prepared to bless the world religiously, but they were and did 
 civilly. After centuries of culture and discipline, and severe 
 morality, and self-mastery, and refinement, they stood before 
 
 '•■i 
 
 fill 
 
 I '1 
 
 1 
 
122 
 
 CHRIST CRUCIFIED. 
 
 the world the most cultured and civilized of people, exerting ark 
 appreciable and permanent influence upon all nations whither- 
 soever true civilization and refinement had spread. By a re- 
 markable arrangement in the purpose and providence of God, 
 these two streams met and united in Christendom and Christi- 
 anity. 'J'he Roman empire was the common ground where 
 they blended and merged into the Christian Church. Neithei 
 of them yielded to Christianity, as you see, by consent^ but by 
 constraint. In spite of themselves all that was moral and 
 spiritual in the Jewish religion was incorporated and repro- 
 duced in the Christian faith, and, despite the most obstinate re- 
 sistance, all that was best and purest in the Greek code and 
 history was accepted by Christian teachers and eternized 
 through the prevalence and power of the Christian system, sa 
 that from the first Church planted by the Apostles right down 
 through all subsequent history, Christianity has been the purest 
 representative of religion and the highest civilizer of mankind. 
 And it is clear that neither the Jewish religion or Grecian civi- 
 lization would have continued permanent but for their being 
 absorbed and perpetuated through Christianity, so that it is cer- 
 tain that while these great and influential people so determin- 
 ately resisted the Apostle and the Christian system they were 
 fighting against their own wider usefulness and true immortality. 
 Paul, conscious in some measure of this great fact, and acting 
 directly under the commission and command of his Master, 
 resolutely maintained his position, and while respecting the 
 Jew and the Greek, he cannot yield one point to the prefer- 
 ence or hostility of his opponents. Whatever they require, he 
 must preach Christ crucified. 
 
 FIRST. AN UNREALIZED PREPOSSESSION. 
 
 " For the Jews require a sign and the Greeks seek after wisdom.' 
 1st. You have the Je^vish prepossession. " For the Jews re- 
 quire a sign." It is easy to see why such a prejudice filled the 
 Jewish mind. Before they entered the land of Canaan and be- 
 gan their national career and God appeared to them once and 
 again, but in every instance by sign, as the burning bush in the 
 desert of Horeb, the fiery cloud that went before the Israelites 
 in the wilderness, and the flaming glory upon Mount Sinai fully 
 attest ; and subsecjuently throughout their entire national his- 
 tory God always appeared to them by signs, as the flaming fire 
 
 
 ^; 
 
CHRIST CRUCIFIED. 
 
 t; 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 123 
 
 
 on mount Carmel and the Shechinah in the Temple clearly 
 prove, so that the Jews, from first to last, were educated in 
 signs. Their only portraiture of God was a symbol, and 
 because it was the way God always had manifested Himself to 
 their famous leaders, Moses, Joshua, Samuel, Elijah and others. 
 It was the way they still expected him to reveal Himself, and 
 more than that, they msisfeJ on His thus revealing Himself in 
 anything divine ; they required a sign as a proof of its genuine- 
 ness, no matter how much more pure and exalted another form 
 of revelation might be, and certainly the /^/-j'^a/^/ manifestation 
 in Christ was infinitely more perfect than the sign, yet they 
 blindly resisted it because it was without precedent in their 
 national history. O, the blindness, the perversity, that insists 
 on a glow-worm in preference to the noonday sun, that will not 
 allow even God to improve His method of revealing Himself 
 because it is a change upon past usage. Shall tradition teach 
 truth ? shall the sha,dow control the substance ? and shall man, 
 who has seen God through the narrowest cavity damn back 
 God's grandest incarnation and manifestations of Himself where 
 the whole Deity is known ? Well did Paul, as a model teacher, 
 insist upon God's freedom and methods, and pass over the 
 preference and sullen menace of the Jew. 
 
 2nd You have the Grecian prepossession. "The Greeks seek 
 after wisdom." A thirst for wisdom and knowledge was the 
 chief feature of the Grecian people. How eminently they suc- 
 ceeded, Grecian poetry, and oratory, and logic, and philosophy, 
 and history, and architecture, and sculpture, and painting, can 
 best declare. Greece was the mother of art and science, the 
 cradle of learning and refinement. Athens, its capital, with 
 her statues and monuments, and temples, and courts, was the 
 resort of admiring crowds from far, and it was not only in- 
 habited by a refined people, able to appreciate the excellent in 
 argument, or rhetoric, or song, but was the seat of the wisest 
 legislators, the sagest philosophers, the greatest historians, the 
 most eloquent orators, the keenest controversialists, as the 
 names of Homer, Xenophon, Demosthenes, Socrates, Solon, 
 Plato, and others of its great and distinguished ones declare, so 
 that we need not wonder that what characterized and immor- 
 talized the Greeks of the past should still be clung to as the 
 object of national ambition and desire. The noble sons of 
 
 
124 
 
 CHRIST CRUCIFIED. 
 
 ^v 
 
 :«!: 
 
 i r 
 
 nobles sires seemed to inherit the thirst for wisdom as an her- 
 reditary possession ; and proud of their national traditions and 
 fame they obstinantly clung to their intellectual culture and 
 philosophies at the expense of the higher philosophy of salva- 
 tion ; and they tried in vain to induce Paul to condescend to 
 their national prejudices at the cost of fidelity to the gospel, 
 but no, he who would not permit a Jew to exalt a picture above 
 the person, would not permit the Greek to exalt culture above the 
 Christ, and right here at Corinth, one of the chief cities of 
 Greece, Paul reminds them that there is something purer than 
 ethics, more exalted than intellect, more all-embracing than re- 
 finement, the spiritual kingdom of Christ, and he cannot per- 
 mit any to prefer his own Abana or Pharpar, but all all must 
 bow to the same Christ and be clothed upon with the same 
 salvation which is from heaven. 
 
 SECOND. Paul's determination faithfully fulfilled. 
 
 " But we preach Christ Crucified." We may enquire, What is 
 it to preach Christ crucified ? It must be something more than 
 proclaiming the mere fact of the Redeemer's death, for there 
 might be presented a most touching picture of the Saviour's 
 sufferings, while the great design for which they were endured is 
 avoided. The scenes of Gethsemane and Calvary may be de- 
 lineated with pathos and power, but if the preacher stops here 
 he might as well have been silent, for to preach " Christ cruci- 
 fied" aright we must show forth the mysterious import and 
 sacrificial nature of Christ's sufferings and death. 
 
 For what end then did Christ die? Was it as a real and 
 proper sacrifice for sin, or merely as a martyr in attestation of 
 the truths and doctrines which He taught? The principle at 
 issue in these widely divergent views is one of incomparable 
 magnitude, and we should reverently sit at the feet of reason 
 and revelation for the answer. It was not as an example or 
 pattern of fortitude that He died, is clear, for apart from the 
 fact that some of His martyred followers exhibited as much 
 patience in death as Christ, we are bold to affirm that the ex- 
 ample of innocence, punished simply to show the spirit in 
 whic!i the sufferings would be borne, is one that it would be 
 wrong for man to copy or God to permit ; that compels reason 
 to accept the plain and uniform teaching of revelatio*^, 
 *'That Christ died for our sinSj according to the Scripturti." 
 
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CHRIST CRUCIFIED. 
 
 125 
 
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 "For the Son of Man came not to be ministered unto, but to 
 niinister, and to give his life a ransom for manyy " I lay down 
 my life for the sheep" And Paul, in another expression, affirms 
 the same truth, "If Christ be not risen ye are yet in your sins," 
 showing the perfect and inseparable connection between Christ's 
 death /or sins and man's absolution from sin. Here, then is 
 the doctrine of Vicarious Sacrifice ; the sacrifice of one instead 
 of another. This, then, is the true view of Scripture, that 
 Christ was man's substitute and suffered in his stead. This is 
 the great truth which types prefigured and prophecy foretold, and 
 with which every doctrine and promise and ordinance of the 
 Divine Word is interwoven, and anyone, to preach Christ cruci- 
 fied, must explain the expiatory or vicarioi s character of His 
 sufferings and death, and set forth Jesus as putting away sin 
 by the sacrifice of Himself. Do you ask, is it Just that Jesus 
 should die for sinners ? No, it is not just, but it is not for 
 poor, polluted, lost man to talk about justice. We need be- 
 nevolence, substitution, the strong helping the weak, the 
 offended setting the offender free, and if Christ voluntarily be- 
 came man's substitute, and cheerfully assumed our nature, and 
 passed from the cradle to the cross saying, "I lay down my life 
 of myself," and if God accepted that substitution, who are we 
 that we should dare to refuse his generosity and stripes for us ; 
 and as we thus preach Christ crucified He is presented as the 
 only ground of our acceptance with God ; thtre we see the 
 utter worthlessness of human merit and the total depravity and 
 dependency of man, and learn that it is only on the ground of 
 Christ's perfect atonement for sin that man can hope for par- 
 don or salvation, or that he can ever converse with God or hold 
 intercourse with Htaven. In this view Christ's death is the 
 greatest miracle of the universe. I do not refer to the prodigies 
 attending it — creation veiled in sackcloth, the sun hiding itself 
 from such a deed of blood, the earth convulsed to its centre, 
 and the graves emptied of their tenants — but to the crucifixion 
 itself. That the Son of God should die, that a pure and inno- 
 cent victim should be immolated, that divine justice should ex- 
 act this penalty, that the righteous should be accepted for the 
 unrighteous, that God should be propitiated ; all this is a pure, 
 glorious miracle, and this atoning sacrifice, which constitutes 
 the fund of merit through v.hich men are saved, by reason of 
 
 '! II 
 
 
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h I 
 
 126 
 
 CHRIST CRUCIFIED. 
 
 its infinite value, needs no repetition or supplement. It is per- 
 fect in itself and acceptable to God. Priests, altars, sacraments, 
 tears, pilgrimages, works of righteousness that we have done, 
 are strange adjuncts to a perfect atonement. How can that 
 which is perfect receive augmentation ? How can that, offered 
 onco for all, need repetition? How can that which God 
 approves need other approval ? And we know that the sacri- 
 fice of Christ was a satisfaction to God, for he declared, " This 
 is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." I would not 
 have you misapprehend the ground upon which God is pleased. 
 It was not because of penalty endured, or agony suffered, 
 that God was was satisfied. Moloch delights in agony, God in 
 self-sacrificing love. God is not a vindictive heathen deity to 
 be appeased by tragedy or to be bribed by suffering and tears, 
 nor was the atonement a commercial transaction, in which so 
 much suffering was paid for so many released. I want you 
 rather to see that He who, through the Eternal Spirit, offered 
 Himself without spot to God, for the first time presented in 
 human nature a copy of the Divine nature. The will of man 
 was perfectly coincident with the will of God. In Him humanity 
 was obedient to the Father at any cost, "even the death of the 
 cross," and as God looked upon a nature so exalted, a character 
 so spotless, a love so self-sacrificing, a consecration so complete, 
 a work and a workman so perfect. He exclaimed again, "This is 
 my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." And now it is 
 for man to accept^ not augment the work of Christ, for here we 
 receive all things in one, and if we miss this one and gain all 
 else, we miss the only salvation. And in its efficacy and effect the 
 atonement remains ever the same. Before God, as the ground of 
 His pardon and graciousness to man, the Lamb is ever slain. In 
 keeping open the new and living way into the holiest of all, so that 
 man can have audience with God, Christ's blood is always avail- 
 ing. Christ's atonement, whether viewed as a fact or pro- 
 vision, will ever remain as the salvation of God to the ends of 
 the earth. To preach Christ crucified Paul determines, and if 
 there existed no other vindication of this decision than the his- 
 tory of Christianity in the times of the Apostles, and every sub- 
 sequent reformation, more than a justification of this resolve 
 might be found, for the state of religion has ebbed or flowed 
 as the cross of Christ has been exhibited or hidden. Christ's 
 
 \ 
 
CHRIST CRUCIFIED. 
 
 127 
 
 !St's 
 
 A 
 
 \ 
 
 perfect sacrifice Is not only vital in itself, but gives vitality to 
 -everything else. Every successful aggression on the world, 
 every awakening among the masses, every revivification of the 
 slumbering C'hurch, has followed the preaching of Christ cruci- 
 fied. In the apostolic and primitive Church Christ was 
 preached purely and without intermixture, and that very 
 clearness and simplicity clothed the message with charm and 
 power. Believers were multiplied, the world was confounded, 
 and the Church grew and prevailed ; and since then all reforma- 
 tions of religion have turned upon that point. Other questions 
 liave arisen, it is true, as the result of doctrinal adjustment, but 
 the crucified Christ was Luther's theme, and while Christ was 
 preached the Reformation progressed rapidly, triumphantly ; 
 nothing was able to withstand the Word. Soul after soul, pro- 
 vince after province, kingdom after kingdom, were won to the 
 noble cause. A pause followed ; the Reformation stood still. 
 The greatest minds have asked a solution of this. If we have 
 read history aright we conclude that the cause is to be found in 
 the substitution of symbols, and creeds, and dogmatic theology 
 for the direct preaching of the cross. Let us then, like Paul, 
 preach the crucified One, boldly, persistently, heroically, pre- 
 •eminently. The experience and trial which such preaching will 
 bring is very manifest. " We preach Christ crucified, to the 
 Jews a stumbling-block, and unto the Greeks foolishness." 
 Over that we mourn, but dare not keep Him back or hide Him 
 behind folds of traditionary rubbish or fine spun philosophies. 
 We must exhibit Him as a balm for a bleeding world, inviting 
 every man, however fallen, or polluted, or leprous, or lost, to 
 look and live. But you can easily see that they who would re- 
 gard the theme as a stumbling-block, as foolishness, as an 
 offence, would regard its preacher as a fool, and brand and hate 
 him as an object of contempt or fierce denunciation. But what- 
 ever odium or persecution it might bring, the Apostle falters 
 not. They might despise his message, malign his person, de- 
 nounce his teachings, murder his body, yet in prison or in death 
 he would still preach Christ. 
 
 THIRD. THE CHARACTERISTICS OF THE CRUCIFIED CHRIST. 
 
 " The power of God and the wisdom of God." This term is 
 frequently used in the Word of God. Christ is designated the 
 power of God unto salvation. " U'he Son of God with power by 
 
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 *ti' I 
 
128 
 
 CHRIST CRUCIFIED. 
 
 the resurrection of the dead." Here " The po7ver of God.'^ 
 You may take a threefold view of this expression, {a) Christ 
 crucified is God in self-sacrifice^ therefore His power to subdue, 
 {b) Christ crucified is God in love, therefore His poiver to win. 
 (c) Christ crucified is God in cleansim^y therefore His power to 
 purify. You see the power here spoken of is not omnipotent 
 physical power, such as creates, and sustains and directs the 
 vast universe, with all its peoples and interest, it is moral power. 
 It is God's greatest because healing power, the power to save. 
 You have seen the terrible sins which it has subdued, and the 
 fierce and hardened sinners N'lhom it has conquered. Men who 
 had been deaf to the voice of reason, and churned into raving 
 foam by the lowest passions ; men who had spent half a lifetime 
 in prisoned bondage, and whose playmates were the rats of the 
 dungeon ; foul and dark blasphemers, whose tongues were set 
 on fire of hell, whom all men dreaded, even them it has sub- 
 dued and changed, and all their rage has been broken in the 
 presence of the enduring meekness of the crucified Christ. 
 Look at such examples as Manasseh, the murderer, Saul of 
 Tarsus, the persecutor, the harlot who bathed the feet of Jasus 
 with her tears, Richard Baxter, the gambler, John Bunyan, the 
 blasphemer, the South Sea Islanders, the fiercest of cannibals, 
 and ask, " Is anything too hard for the Lord ?" There are few 
 men that can look in upon the passion, and agony, and self- 
 sacrifice of the Son of God, and hold out againj^t such a specta- 
 cle of wonder as Jesus, enduring the contradiction of sinners 
 against Himself, and of this we may be p.*infully certain, that 
 men who can successfully resist the power of Christ, nothing 
 else can save them ; but, thank God, that power is able to sub- 
 due, to save unto the uttermost, and from what may not the 
 love of tlie crucified One draw and win men ? It is evident 
 that Christ relied on the power of his love to inspire his serv- 
 ants to the highest service and the most heroic fidelity, and 
 through them to draw others from the greatest sins, nor was he 
 disappointed. As the Apostles or those who have succeeded 
 them in their mission and spirit went forth on their strange en- 
 terprise over oceans and through forests, penetrating into dun- 
 geons and standing at the foot of the throne, instructing the 
 savage or persuading the monarch, simply for the good of those 
 they visited, enduring all things for the love of those they 
 
CHRIST CRUCIFIED. 
 
 129 
 
 sought, the world took knowledge of them that they had been 
 with Jesus, for they reflected the selfsame spirit of love, and the 
 Apostle, when responding to their wonderment, replied, " If 
 any man have not the spirit of Christ he is none of his," and 
 to show that they had the Master's spirit, he said, " The love of 
 Christ constraineth us." And all men saw it and felt it, that 
 these emissaries of the Nazarene were not like the bigoted, 
 ecclesiastical Jew, restricted by law, and tradition, and patriot- 
 ism, or like the Greek who thanked Heaven that he was born a 
 man, not a brute, a Greek and not a barbarian. They saw that 
 another spirit had come into the world, one that overleaped na- 
 tional distinctions, and race, and color, and language, and made 
 the whole world kin, and constrained them even to love their 
 enemies. Then men began gradually to see the new com- 
 mandment which had been given unto them, and to learn that 
 love is the fulfilling of tne law, and to it the heart of man re- 
 sponded as if by magic. The crudest hatreds were quenched 
 in its presence, the bitterest disaffection was overcome by its 
 tenderness, and men who were lost to every other power were 
 saved by the power of love. And those whom the power of the 
 crucified One has subdued, has won. " The blood of Jesus 
 cleanseth from all sin." Here, indeed, there is a fountain 
 opened for sin and uncleanness, so that the foulest stains of the 
 worst of defilement may be washed away forever. Sin-stains 
 that afe like scarlet, that are red like crimson, may be effaced 
 and their victim made whiter than snow. The Apostle, speak- 
 ing to these Corinthians, of some of the lowest and vilest of 
 men, says, " And such were some of you, but ye are washed, ye 
 are justified, ye are sanctified by the blood of the cross ;" and 
 John, speaking of the redeemed before the throne, says, "These 
 are they that have washed their robes and made them white in 
 the blood of the Lamb." No partial cleansing, but a perfect 
 purification does Christ bestow. Looking, then, at the crucified 
 Christ, you see that he is the power of God to subdue the hard- 
 est heart, to send healing to the spirit of the wounded, to make 
 the selfish benevolent, to make the wretched happy, to make 
 the godly man nobler still, until he shall reach the fulness of 
 the stature of a man in Christ. The power of God, so gentle and 
 noiseless that it does not disturb a babe's slumber, so resistless 
 and mighty that it overcomes and renews the hardest of men. 
 
 
I 
 
 m< 
 
 1 
 
 »3o 
 
 CHRIST CRUCIFIED. 
 
 Christ crucified is also f/ie wisdom of God. God's wisdom by 
 rti^ealin^ Him. In Christ the nature, the divinity, the heart of 
 God is laid open to the gaze of the world. Christ is (lod mani- 
 fest in the flesh. He is the self-manifesting God. A man may 
 study God elsewhere, as the ancient ones did, in nature, in 
 providence, in government, and see much of His skill and wis- 
 dom, but at best we must say, "These are but parts of his ways;" 
 but in Christ crucified the whole Deity is known and every per- 
 fection and property of the Divine nature are seen to harmonize 
 and blend. And He is also the wisdom of God to direct and 
 guide all Christian believers into the ways of God. In Christ, as 
 in no one else, we may read God's purpose, God's designs ; we 
 may see what He aims at in men and for men, and what men 
 themselves should be and become. In Christ we can understand 
 what God means by being glorified in His saints and admired 
 in them that obey Him. In the crucified One we may see, as 
 with the clearness of a sunbeam, " the highway of holiness." 
 
 If it be asked to whom is Christ the power of God and the 
 wisdom of God, this Scripture states, " to them which are called." 
 This means, in the language of Scripture, not merely the people 
 to whom God speaks, but they who heed his voice, who respond 
 to his call. You read of God having called Abraham to leave 
 his country and go to the place God should direct ; of his call- 
 ing Moses to leave the wilds of Midian and return to Egypt to 
 deliver Israel ; ot his calling Joshua to be a commander, and 
 calling David to be a king, and calling Elisha to be a prophet, 
 and Christ calling the twelve to be with him. In all cases it 
 meant response, and to God's call in Christ there should be in- 
 stant response, so that the full benefits of His great atoning 
 work may be realized by us and in us. That God may not say, 
 "I have called but ye have refused." "I am come that ye might 
 have life, but ye would not come to Me that ye might have life.' 
 
 
SERMON II. 
 
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 as 
 
 4 
 
 PROSPERITY OF THE WORD. 
 
 "But the Word of Ood ijrew and multiplied." ACTS xir. 24. 
 
 Y the all-wise superintendence of His Providence, God 
 I often overrules evil for good. The persecution which 
 arose upon the death of Stephen affords a striking in- 
 stance of this. The disciples being dispersed, went 
 everywhere preaching the Word. Consequently new and far-off 
 districts and provinces received the Gospel Teacher much sooner 
 than they otherwise would. Had the Church at Jerusalem con- 
 tinued to enjoy undisturbed the close friendship and abundant 
 prosperity at first realized, there would have been little disposi- 
 tion to separate, to scatter the seed. But by the violence of 
 persecution the society was dispersed and the disciples had to 
 flee into other lands and cities, where, inflamed with a love to 
 Christ and souls, they proclaimed the truth of Jesus. Thus the 
 cloud scattered by the storm brought showers of blessings to 
 other lands. And so it was in the instance before us. This 
 growth of the Word took place amid influences inimical to 
 piety. Herod had put James to death, imprisoned Peter, and 
 caused consternation and havoc in the Christian Church in con- 
 tinuance of his past cruehies. The chief priest was the princi- 
 pal actor in the martyrdom of Stephen and the severe persecu- 
 tions that followed, referred to in the eighth chapter of Acts. 
 But as the power of arresting that murderous deed and the 
 succeeding opposition was possessed by Herod, he must have 
 been a participant of the first degree in that great injustice. 
 Whether the man was an active or passive spectator lessens his 
 culpability but little. He who has the means of preventing a 
 crime and fails to do so, is but a fractional amount less guilty 
 
 ! li' 
 
 m 
 
132 
 
 PROSPERITV OF THE WORD. 
 
 than the actual perpetrator. In the progress of evil, successful 
 villainy naturally inflames the passions and leads to audacity. 
 Having succeeded in oppressing the Jewish Christians, Herod 
 turned his fury against the people of Tyie and Sidon. It is not 
 said why the rage of the king was excited, the account not being 
 stated to show the social or political aspects of the case, but to 
 impress us with the justice of God in dealing with sin, though 
 covered in the folds of purple and made potent by a sceptre 
 and a crown. God did not punish Herod at once for the 
 slaughter of His saints, but permitted him to fill up the mea- 
 sure of his iniquity by adding profanity to murder, aspiring to 
 be a God as well as a tyrant. This deification was easy, for the 
 thoughtless and ignorant are always willing dupes of designing 
 men, and when Herod, arrayed in royal apparel, sat upon his 
 throne and made an oration, the people shouted, "It is the voice 
 of a God." This impious buffoonery was probably brought 
 about by the craft of the tyrant and his courtiers. There is al- 
 ways found in the train of despots, a set of sycophants ready to 
 serve them in any way. These gave the signal and led the 
 vulgar shout, but the avenger was at hand. It is added with 
 terrible emphasis ! "And the angel of the Lord smote him, 
 because he gave not God the glory, and he was eaten of worms 
 and he died." Thus the Word grew amid the agitation of the 
 dispersion of the flock, the martyrdom and imprisonment of 
 saints, the impiety of Herod and his death in so signal a man- 
 ner by the judicial anger of God. 
 
 FIRST : THE OPPOSITION THE WORD ENCOUNTERED. 
 
 The first age of the Christian era was hostile to the spirit and 
 success of Christianity. The Bible suggests the chief opposing 
 forces. 
 
 I St. The prejudices of Judaism opposed the Word. In- 
 tolerance towards the Christian faith was early expressed by the 
 Jews. At the very birth of Christianity they sought its extinc- 
 tion. When Christianity appeared, Judaism was split into many 
 rival and contending sects. But these factions and parties for- 
 got their contentions in one absorbing hatred to the gospel of 
 Christ. Proud, they couM not endure its humility ; formal, 
 they could not stand its spirituality ; vile, they could not bear 
 its holiness. The lowliness, and spirituality, and purity of the 
 
I'ROSPJiRriY OF THE WORD. 
 
 ^33 
 
 of 
 ar 
 
 W- 
 
 gospel opposed their parade and depraved prejudices and life- 
 less forms with omnipotent power. And because Christianity 
 uprooted so completely the long-cherished fabric of Jewish creed 
 and practice, they confronted it zealously, fiercely, persistently, 
 determined, if possible, to defeat and overthrow it. But the 
 Word g ew and multiplied. 
 
 2nd. Idolatry opposed it. To banish from the earth all 
 Icnowledge of God and His government, and to substitute a 
 worship, composed of lust and blood, seems most desirable to 
 the great enemy where it can be done. This he has accom- 
 plished in the heathen world, for there knowledge is in deep 
 eclipse, intellect slumbers, conscience is paralyzed, and all inter- 
 course between earth and heaven cut off, while passion and 
 appetite, and sin are suffered to prey, unchceked. Deeply as we 
 deplore the idolatory of to-day, in the early times of Christi- 
 anity, it was far more general. The direct aim of Christianity 
 was to lead from this unhallowed shrine to the simple, but sub- 
 lime worship of the one true God, and to overthrow the priest- 
 craft with its revered and blind superstition by teachings more 
 plain and pure, and to substitute for impious Pagan altars, the 
 fellowship that enters into the holiest of all by the new and 
 living way. But when the priests saw their craft and source of 
 gain assailed, they encountered Christianity with the most 
 deadly and malignant opposition. 
 
 ^rd. Persecution opposed it. Unquestionably persecution has 
 been at times overruled for good by increasing the interest and 
 zeal of the persecuted and arousing the sympathy of the people, 
 showing at once the vileness of the persecutors and the moral 
 worth and power of true religion. Indeed it is the strange tend- 
 ency of persecution to outwit itself A voice is hushed for a 
 while, but eloquent though it may have been in life, there issues 
 from the grave of the slain witness, still more audible and in- 
 fluencing oratory. But persecution in itself is a terrible enemy 
 to the truth. It has often wrecked the interest of the perse- 
 cuted party and long deferred the looked for triumph. What 
 drove religion out of China? What destroyed the reformed 
 religion of France ? What prevented its spread in Portugal, and 
 Spain, and Italy? Persecution ! 
 
 It is against human nature to suppose that anyone embraces 
 any system because he has to suffer for it Now, Christianity 
 
 N 
 
 3' 
 
134 
 
 PROSPERITY OF THE WORD. 
 
 V'' 
 
 in her first attempts to disenthrall the world, met the storm of 
 ten successive persecutions protracted over thF«e hundred years. 
 From the decree of Herod, to the destruction of Jerusalem, and 
 on to the day of Constantine, the prediction met a fearful fulfil- 
 ment, "There was war in heaven, Michael and his angels 
 fought with the beast and his angels." Terrible was the scene 
 of the persecution under Nero. The Christian name was 
 deemed contemptible, and religion a detestable superstition, 
 and Christians themselves were said to be the enemies of man- 
 kind. Notwithstanding the purity of their liv>es, they incurred 
 the hatred of the Pagan world. Torn by wild beasts or burnt 
 to light up the streets of Rome, their tortures were fearful. 
 Then came Dom'tian, who renewed all the horrors of the per- 
 secution. By his orders Ignatius, of Antioch, was carried a 
 prisoner to Rome and thrown to the wild beasts in the Amphi- 
 theatre. Then Trajan came to the throne. Him, Rome en- 
 rolled among her gods for his determined hatred to the sect of 
 the Nazarene. Under him suffered Justin Martyr, Polycarp and 
 the martyrs ot Lyons. And every succeeding emperor shed the 
 blood of the saints down to Diocletian himself, who demolished 
 Christian temples, burnt the sacred books, deprived Christians 
 of all civil rights and honors, consigned them to the severest 
 torture, and as a climax, caused a coin to be struck with this 
 inscription \--''Nomi?ie Christianorum deleto." One universal 
 cry of persecution was heard from Jerusalem to Ephesus, from 
 Ephesus to Rome, from Rome to Gaul, and on till every valley 
 flowed with martyred blood, and every river was stained with 
 purple gore, and cities and towns, and mountams and ravinv^s, 
 all sighed the wail of the persecuted, borne by the pitying winds 
 to the ear of Him who heard the cry of His slaughtered follow- 
 ers. But despite the superstition of men, the craft of the priest- 
 hood, the ridicule of wits, the reasoning of sages, the polcy of 
 cabinets, the force of custom, the solicitations of passion, the 
 prowess of armies, the arts of Satan, the Word grew and multi- 
 plied. 
 
 second: the progress of the word. 
 
 ist. It grew in extent. Within the first century of the 
 Christian era, the Word of God made such advancement 
 as is without precedent or parallel. In less than one year 
 after Christianity began its reign, and on the very 
 
PROSPERITV OF JIIE WORD. 
 
 135 
 
 soil where its Founder had been slain, its converts amounted to 
 ten thousand. In less than two years it overran Judea, and in 
 less than a century it pervaded Syria, Lybia, Egypt, Arabia, 
 Persia, Mesopotamia, Armenia, the whole of Asia Minor, and 
 a large portion of Europe. And in a short time it may be said, 
 its conquests extended from the Jordon to the Thames, gather- 
 ing trophies upon the snow-clad hills of the frozen north, and 
 the green fields and sunny valleys of the genial south. The 
 altars of impiety crumbled before the march of the Word, the 
 glimmer of the schools disappeared in her light, power was 
 paralyzed at her glai\ce, and soon He who went insulted from 
 the hill of Calvary to a borrowed tomb, ascended the throne 
 and swayed his sceptre over the palace of the Ceasars. Over- 
 turning every difficulty, like a conqueror He demanded a tribute 
 of souls from every land through which He passed, everywhere 
 seeking to destroy evil and laboring to exalt and bless men, to 
 the happiness and salvation of the nations. 
 
 2nd. It grew in the manifestation of rennving and transform- 
 ing po7uer. A close and candid study of early Christian 
 triumphs must convince every impartial mind that the first 
 Christian revolution was no superficial thing. It was not a 
 mere change of opinions which left untouched the mainsprings 
 of conduct. The new religion grasped the very will of hu- 
 manity and controlled it as with the hand of a God. It was not 
 ouly light to the intellect, it was fire in the heart. It reversed 
 the most natural and powerful motives which sway men's 
 actions. It toro up deep rooted habits, it bore down the fond- 
 est and most inveterate prejudices, it brought into subjection 
 to itself every appetite and desire by which man is wont to be 
 governed. In the Apostolic writings we discern abundant 
 proof that the whole being of those whose thoughts they re- 
 flect was imbued with the truth they proclaimed. It is not 
 merely that they held life cheap in comparison with their 
 spiritual convictions and embraced death in any form rather 
 than compromise their cherished faith. There are other and 
 more delicate traces that the gospel had penetrated to the 
 inner centre of their being. We see in them a calmness of 
 purpose, a keen appreciation .of human relationships, a spirit 
 of self-vigilance, quite incompatable with the notion that the 
 impulse which moved them had touched their passions only. 
 
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136 
 
 PROSPERITY OF THE WORD. 
 
 
 "V. 
 
 These men were no fanatics. Their very enthusiasm is without 
 flame, their very madness has method in it. Reason still 
 governs them, and when most intense, their reh'gion is most 
 practical. 1 he spirit born of the Christian faith laid vigorous 
 siege to real evils and labored hard to promote substantial 
 ^ood. It set its face like flint against the views and practices 
 which degrade human nature ; formality, selfishness, falsehood, 
 revenge, licentiousness, intemperance, covetousness, pride, 
 brutal sports and all manner of evil. It enforced industry, it 
 organized benevolence, made provision for the poor, befriended 
 the wretcher, relieved the suffering, liberated the captive. It 
 was not wanting in tenderness and self-sacrifice. Whatever 
 therefore may be your conclusion as to the character of their 
 faith, there can be no question of the thoroughness of its in- 
 fluence. It possessed the entire man and wrought a change, 
 deep, radical, complete — restoring conscience to its proper 
 supremacy, reforming vicious habits, quickening and maturing 
 benevolent impulses, giving a new impulse to the life, and im- 
 pressing the character with the image and superscription of 
 Christ, thus enabling them to achieve self-conquests under the 
 most trying circumstances, to face manfully the hardest lot, to 
 submit to the bitterest mortifications, to overcome the cruelest 
 resentments, and to endure the loss of all things. And while 
 religion could thus refine and renew and elevate the character 
 of its converts, it filled them with peace and joy in the Holy 
 Ghost, so that when the heart and the flesh failed and the 
 spirit was passing to the unseen land, a visitant from the higher 
 realms seemed present with the lone traveller, and the pilgrim 
 entered the eternal world fearing no evil, but confident of a 
 home and a warm greeting there. 
 
 third: the grounds of progress. 
 On what grounds may we account for the rapid spread of the 
 Word in former times? Gibbon says that it was in conse- 
 quence of the union and discipline of the Christian Re- 
 public which gradually formed an independent state in 
 the heart of the Roman Empire. But this union was 
 not formed until the fourth century while the most rapid 
 spread of the gospel occurred during the first, so that this 
 idea carries its own refutation. Was its success consequent 
 on the fame and wealth and literary attainments of its 
 
 i -f 
 
PROSPERITY OF THE WORD. 
 
 137 
 
 advocates, or did it tolerate crime? Was it a religion where the 
 infidel might be received without conversion or be converted 
 without a perceptible change of life, wiere the thoughtless and 
 gay might float together down the stream to the charm of 
 music? Was it like the Roman system, a strange combination 
 where the skeptic, and the Jew, and the Gentile might join 
 hands and wear sacred robes on which the cross is embroidered 
 and yet make war with the Lamb that sitteth upon the throne ? 
 We answer, No. On no secondary principle can the early 
 triumphs of the gospel be explained. Its secret rests in itself, 
 its divinity, its doctrines, its spirituality, its sufficiency, its suit- 
 ability, its Christ-like spirit. 
 
 1st. The miraculous power with which the ministry of the 
 first advocates of the Wotd was attended^ in part accounts for its 
 success. We doubt whether a man can in the present condition 
 of his mind believe in the divinity of a religion unattended by 
 miracles. We naturally infer that if an Infinite Being acts, it 
 will be in a superhuman way. The effect, reason suggests, will 
 be in keeping with the cause. Man has the same right to ex- 
 pect that God's acts will exceed his in wisdom and power as that 
 inferior animals will sink below him. As it is natural lor maa 
 to act superior to animals so it is natural for God to act above 
 the skill of man. If God were to confine His doings within 
 the limit of human agency, we could not discern between the 
 operations of humanity and divinity. A Divine religion attended 
 with superhuman power wears the credentials of the Divine 
 presence. This expectation was met in the first ages of 
 Christianity, for miracles were frequently performed by the first 
 messengers of the Word in confirmation of what they taught. 
 Claiming a Divine commission as the teachers of Divine 
 truth, miracles were wrought by the Apostles in the name of 
 Jesus, and many were convinced thereby that they came from 
 God. 
 
 2nd. The presence and power of the Holy Spirit helps to 
 account for its success. For the first time the world heard the 
 doctrine clearly, and persistently affirmed that God is a living, 
 personal spirit, in direct, immediate communion with the souls 
 of men, dwelling not only without them in the immensities of 
 the universe, but also within them, in the minds and hearts of 
 His children, the life of their life — that there existed the clos- 
 
138 
 
 PROSPERITY OF THE WORD. 
 
 est possible union between the Christian believer and God — 
 that the Spirit of God dwelt in him, to raise him out of dark- 
 ness into light, out of sin into holiness, out of bondage to the 
 earthly into the glorious liberty of the children of God. Under 
 the Old Dispensation the Spirit had been given to men to 
 awaken the conscience, to impart knowledge and wisdom. The 
 Christian Dispensation proclaimed a new manifestation of the 
 Spirit, differing from the former not so much in kind as in 
 degree. Christ's work of reconciliation had made possible a 
 larger outpouring of the Spirit; it had removed barriers of ignor- 
 ance and sin, which hindered the free action of God in man, 
 and now God could dwell in him richly. This was the doctrine 
 so fully taught by the Apostles, and in the Acts and Epistles of 
 the New Testament, and it was this quickening, illuminating 
 Presence which largely accounts for the rapid spread of Christi- 
 anity in Apostolic times. So long as the early Christians re- 
 mained in sympathy and fellowship with Christ, they were en- 
 dowed with power from on high, which made intelligible and 
 real to them the revelation and work of Christ, raised their 
 natural faculties into spiritual gifts, and introduced through 
 them a new and higher type of spiritual life and goodness. The 
 marvels of Apostolic history were but marvels of the manifested 
 Spirit. We cannot say what is possible when the soul is filled 
 with the spirit of truth and holiness and power. We see that it 
 can make the feeble bold to declare the whole counsel of God 
 and charge home the truth upon the hearts and consciences of 
 men until they cry out "What must we do to be saved ?" O, it 
 was men under the continuous inspiration of the Spirit, ever 
 affirming the eternal presence and power of the Spirit that ac- 
 complished the almost measureless triumphs of the early 
 Christian Church. And it is the self-same Spirit which must 
 elevate us to the loftiest visions or nearest fellowships or closest 
 resemblance to God, or make us mighty through God to the 
 pulling down of strongholds, or clothe our words with power to 
 quicken and vivify the Church and the world. 
 
 Srd. The united and persistent prayers of the Church will, in 
 part, account for its success. The connection between prayer 
 and the spiritual power of a Christian and the success of the 
 truth is clear and direct. The Word of God asserts it ; the 
 history of the Church proves it ; the inner consciousness of 
 

 PROSPERITY OF THE WORD. 
 
 139 
 
 every believer confirms it. Scepticism may doubt the efficacy 
 of prayer because it has not learnt to pray. But prayer is the 
 barometer to determine the elevation or depression of the 
 spiritual principle ; as we feel the power and spirit of prayer we 
 are ready to perform every good word and work. God has not 
 united the greatest spiritual triuTiphs with prayer, because there 
 is uncertainty in His plans, or because He in any way depends 
 on our information, or entreaties. God is not a being of parts 
 and passions moved by the fervor of human supplication, but 
 He has connected prayer with spiritual successes, as a part of 
 the moral agency He uses. He who has required faith, and 
 hope, and love, and purity as essential attributes of a godly life, 
 has expressly enjoinec prayer as a duty and an essential of suc- 
 cess. And no one ever prayed according to the will of God 
 that did not succeed. What is it that has embalmed in the his- 
 tory of the Church, and made so famous the names and lives 
 of Brainerd, and Martin, and Williams, and Ellis, and other 
 famous modern missionaries but the spirit of prayer that led to 
 their signal successes ? And it was because the Apostolic Church 
 was so united and fervent, and continuous in prayer that God 
 so wonderously prospered the Word they preached. In all 
 things by prayer and supplication they let their requests be made 
 known unto Him. And in answer God supplied all their wants 
 out of the riches of his fulness so that their word had free course 
 and was glorified. 
 
 4th. You might further place great stress on the eminent char- 
 acter^ and courage^ and zeai, and heroism of the early Christian 
 advocates as a ground of their success. Without elaboration it 
 will strike every reader of the book of Acts, and of the annals of 
 early Christian history that the courage, and bravery, and un- 
 daunted heroism of the first heralds of the cross was of the high- 
 est order and contributed immensely to their success. Councils 
 and governments and all classes of opposers saw that these men 
 would rather obey God than man, and were compelled to re- 
 spect a courage they could not crush, and a devotion to their 
 Master and His cause that nothing could destroy. With a love 
 sironger than death they were prepared to endure hardness as 
 good soldiers of Jesus Christ and counted not their lives dear 
 unto them if that they might finish their course with joy and 
 fulfil the work committed to their charge. These early Christian 
 
 W 
 
■: 'I 
 
 140 
 
 PROSPERITY OF THE WORD. 
 
 :i.^f 
 
 
 -li 
 
 
 I 
 
 fl 
 
 -I ■ i 
 
 ill 
 
 advocates consequently went forth preaching the Word of Life, 
 for no difficulties or discouragements could arrest their course. 
 They pressed through storms of every kind and rose above all 
 opposition that they might do the will of Him that sent them, 
 and God honored such zeal with unexampled prosperity. Na- 
 tions were born in a day ; for men that turned the world upside 
 down went everywhere, God working with them. 
 
 5/*/%. TAe clear and distinct revelation of the future state ^ brought 
 to light by the gospel^ and proclaimed by the earlv Christian am- 
 bassadors^ will further account for their success. The eternity 
 that was all about them, and in which they so fully believed, led 
 them to live and labor as they that must give an account, and 
 they endured as seeing the Invisible. And that immortality 
 which was so clearly revealed tc their own consciousness they 
 unhesitatingly proclaimed to the world, holding up to every man 
 the rewards of holiness and the retribution of sin, thereby de- 
 terring vice by the most appalling threatenings and menacing it 
 with an endless doom, and rewarding virtue with the highest 
 glory and most perfect blessedness forever. In this way the 
 immortality brought to light by the gospel, gave weight and 
 power and searching to the ministry of the Word, and dis- 
 couraged sin by the strongest motives, and encouraged purity 
 by the loftiest considerations. 
 
 Thus you see that the Word of God has triumphed, and will 
 go on to triumph until all difficulties are overcome and the 
 world is restored to the fellowship and sonship, and citizenship 
 of the Divine, and so found sitting at the feet of Jesus renewed 
 and in its right mind. 
 
of Life, 
 
 course. 
 
 bove all 
 
 it them, 
 
 ^. Na- 
 l upside 
 
 brought 
 ian am- 
 eternity 
 ved, led 
 int, and 
 lortality 
 ;ss they 
 2ry man 
 eby de- 
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 highest 
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 md will 
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 zenship 
 enewed 
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 * Pray without ceasing." — 1. Thess. v., 17. 
 
 NE ot the highest honors conferred on man, perhaps the 
 very highest, is that he is enabled to hold fellowship with 
 God. The question may be asked, Why should we pray, 
 seeing that God must know all our wants and words be- 
 fore we express them, and works all things according to the de- 
 terminate council of His own mind? But we do not pray to 
 inform the Divine Being of our necessities, but rather to ac- 
 knowledge our dependence, and to confess our trust in Him. 
 He has Himself ordained this method of communication, and 
 however men may perplex themselves in reasoning upon the 
 philosophical bearings of this subject, prayer seems to be almost 
 an instinct of the human heart, a law of our nature, which, how- 
 ever it may be kept in abeyance under ordinary circumstances, 
 often comes into striking operation in great emergencies, such 
 as a terrific storm at sea, a severe illness, a heavy loss, or a pain- 
 ful bereavement. At such seasons men pray who never prayed 
 before, and scepticism itself, in times of fearful apprehension, 
 bends its stubborn knee and seeks refuge under the throne of 
 God. Now, what man feels to be instinctive, and natural, and 
 safe, under certain emergencies, the Bible enjoins as a duty at 
 all times. " Pray without ceasing." 
 
 FIRST — THE NATURE OF PRAYER. 
 
 1st. Prayer implies a firm conviction of the Existince and Per- 
 sonality of God. Of His existence we cannot really or rationally 
 doubt. We attempt no proof of the self-evident truism that 
 
 \%\ 
 
 ■ v 
 
 i 
 
 ■ i 
 
142 
 
 I'RAYER. 
 
 God iSy because the whole difficulty of proof lies on the side of 
 unbelief. To say that some disbelieve in the being of God is 
 no proof whatever that God is not, for existence is unaltered by 
 man's belief or disbelief. He that cometh to God must believe 
 that He is. There would be no approach to God, no real 
 prayer, no conscious fellowship with Heaven, unless the mind 
 and soul are deeply impressed with the sense of God's existence 
 and penetrated with the most thorough consciousness of His 
 being. But man will not approach a mere existence ; he must 
 have 2l person. The arm of a person is the only one upon which 
 man can safely lean, the heart of a person is the only one man 
 feels to confide in, and the attributes of a person are the only 
 ones that man will readily approach. Now, the Personality of 
 God is as manifest as His Existence. I know that Pantheism 
 denies the Divine Personality, absorbing nature in the Deity 
 and the Deity in nature, thus rendering the universe, in its com- 
 pound nature of matter and mind, One, and that One, God. 
 In this way the Divine Will and Free Agency is denied, and 
 creation ceases to be a free act, a complete effect, and becomes 
 an eternal process, God unconsciously passing into existence ; 
 and according to this theory, all existence becomes a part and 
 parcel of the Divine Essence. But all the theories of unbelief 
 cannot disprove the Divine Personality. Whatever ideas we 
 attach to personality belong essentially to God. Individual 
 consciousness, the power to design, thought, intelligence, self- 
 motion, and existence separate from all other existence, is God. 
 He is as distinct from the universe as the builders from the edi- 
 fice, the author from his book. The unity of the universe 
 proves a personal Creator, so that man may confidently feel in 
 approaching the throne of grace that he approaches a personal 
 God, and One who adds to all the other attributes of person- 
 ality the tenderness and compassion of a Father, so that He 
 can be and is touched with the feeling of our infirmities. 
 
 2nd. It implies a conscious?iess of the Divirie Omnipresence. 
 The universal presence of the Most High is one of the neces- 
 sary attributes of His nature. He is the Creator of all things, 
 and His agency sustains all things. He lives through all life, 
 extends through all extent, works undivided, operates unseen. 
 Being the source of all being, the cause of all existence, He must 
 be everywhere present, co-extensive with the amplitude, and 
 
 >j., 
 
 ilD 
 
FRAVKR. 
 
 M3 
 
 pervading the minutest atom in the universe ; and that presence 
 must be real, actual, operative. The matter of the physical 
 universe is incajiable of self-motion, and all its parts arc incapa- 
 ble of acting voluntarily on each other. Motion, therefore, im- 
 plies a mover, as truly as contrivance proves a contriver. In 
 every part of the universe are found forces — as gravitation, 
 electricity, and light — subject to laws, which laws imply a law- 
 giver. These laws being universal, the agency of the law-giver 
 is universal, and wherever God acts, there He is, and wherever 
 His laws are there He is. But apart from the evidence which 
 Nature has furnished of the Divine Omnipresence, existence it- 
 self implies 7vhereness\ an actual being must have a where, and 
 of the locality of God's being we have only to say that it is 
 everywhere ; and this Divine Omnipresence does not convey the 
 idea that a part of God is in a given place, but that He is there 
 essentially and perfectly ; so that in approaching Ciod anywhere 
 we have this persuasion, that He can see us, that He can hear 
 us, that He can answer us, for He is in every place. And 
 whether we call upon Him in the closet, in the cell, in the at- 
 tic, in the temple, from the loneliest solitude, or in the midst 
 of the great congregation, God is there present to hear and 
 answer. 
 
 ^rd. It implies an unshaken confidence in the Prevailing Media- 
 tion of Christ. As the Mediator and High Priest of His 
 Church, it is one of Christ's special prerogatives that He has to 
 do with the prayers of His saints ; and of this truth the Christian 
 needs the firmest assurance before approaching the Mercy-seat 
 of God, because even our best prayers, considered in them- 
 selves, are only devotional sins and suplicatory infirmities. It 
 is not simply that apart from the Holy Spirit's agency upon the 
 moral spring of our actions that we can offer no God-realizing 
 prayer, but even when we are softened and changed by Divine 
 grace so much weakness and destitution cleaves to our very 
 thoughts and desires, and divides us even in prayer, that we 
 may fitly exclaim: "When Thou hearest,forgive." By the defects 
 of our devotion I do not mean simply that we are sometimes 
 cold and irreverent, and but faintly impressed with a becoming 
 sense of the awful perfections of Him into whose presence we 
 come ; this is indeed a remembrance fraught with suggestions 
 of humiliation and pain ; but we allude rather to that inward 
 
144 
 
 I'RAYF.R. 
 
 I 
 
 ■••Vi; 
 
 contradiction wliich often exists between the language of prayer 
 on tlie lips and the disjiosition of prayer in the heart, for be it 
 remembered, the unvoiced desire and unspoken thought are 
 as distinctly known to (lod as the most outspoken recjuest. 
 And if this be undeniable, what a miracle of self-righteousness 
 must that man be who does not perceive that nothing less than 
 the all-perfect intercession of Jesus can so purify our polluted 
 devotions nnd so prevail over their inherent taint as to win their 
 admittance into the audience-chamber of the sinless God. 
 Suppose the evil imaginations experienced at times by the most 
 devout when engaged in prayer, scanned by the penetrating 
 eye of God, should be put into words, would not the aggregate 
 of all that Divine discernment discovered make us shudder and 
 despair? How, then, can we offer that truest of prayers, "God 
 be merciful to me, a sinner," only because of the prevailing 
 mediation of Jesus ? Seated at the Father's right hand, Christ 
 permits not a single supplicant to go unbefriended into the 
 Divine presence ; clad in His sacerdotal robes, and bearing in 
 his hand the censer of burning incense. He advocates our cause 
 and obtains for us acceptance and success ; standing midway 
 between God and man. He intercepts the petition, divests it of 
 all taint and imperfections, supplies its deficiencies, and then, 
 uniting it with His own merit, and perfuming it with the in- 
 cense of His own blood. He presents it to the Father, endorsed 
 with His name, urged by His suit, and successful because of 
 His mediation. We may pray without ceasing, because Christ 
 ever liveth to make intercession for us. 
 
 : ! 
 
 SECOND — THE MANNER OF PRAYER. 
 
 " Pray without ceasing." Why, we cannot be always in the 
 act of prayer ; we cannot be always on our knees in prayer ; we 
 cannot always be using the language of prayer, or in retirement 
 for the purpose of prayer. That would render the Christian a 
 hermit ; it would stop the tide of human affairs, dissolve the 
 bonds of society, and introduce confusion throughout the 
 whole earthly system ; and this cannot be, nor is it required of 
 us in our present condition. What is meant is that there must 
 be an aptness for the exercise of prayer. We must have stated 
 times for the performance of the duty, and not let it be an oc- 
 casional impulse, or an intermittent exercise under painful pres- 
 
PRAVKR. 
 
 MS 
 
 t( 
 
 SO 
 
 sure or selfish fear ; we must cultivate a devotional spirit, 
 that we may pray always with all prayer." 
 
 1st. To pray 7c>ithout cetisitii^ is to pray from the heart. To 
 pray at all we must pray from the heart. Uy the heart the 
 Scriptures mean the inmost soul. Heart worship denotes 
 deliberate choice and understanding and feeling, in opposition 
 to a mere form. The heart being looked upon as the seat of 
 feeling, just as the brain has been considered the chief organ of 
 thought, it has been, by an easy metaphor, employed to denote 
 that faculty of the soul by which we perceive what is desirable, 
 cleave to what is satisfying and taste the delight which certain 
 objects are adapted to imi)art; and it is only when the mind is 
 disengaged from everything foreign to devotion, and the soul 
 is impressed with the weight and moment of its undertaking, 
 and is susceptible of such sentiments as correspond to the 
 object of worsiiip, that it can be said in truth the heart is 
 engaged ; and without this there can be no real prayer. Mere 
 expressions, chaste and elegant words, rich and high-flown senti- 
 ments, are not prayer. It may be a good picture of it, but the 
 life is wanting. If you were presenting a petition to Her 
 Majesty, it is not the gilded paper or good writing that pre- 
 vails with Royalty, but the moving sense, the pleading heart 
 that inspires it. So it is with the King of kings. He regards 
 what the heart says, and hastens to fulfil its request, but He 
 takes all as nothing where the heart is wanting. The heart is 
 the life, the soul, the prayer of prayer. If asked to describe 
 prayer, I should say it is the habit of the soul^ the rii^ht mood of 
 the heart towards God. Prayer is not only an expression of 
 trust, of reverence, of love ; it includes more than suplication ; 
 it is communion, it is intercourse of heart with the great 
 Father, and therefore a groan, a sigh, a wish, a tear may be all 
 that is seen or heard when the heart is really and consciously 
 engaged in prayer. And from this you may see that, praying 
 from the heart, you may be always praying. No matter how 
 engaged — in secular or social or literary or worldly pursuits — 
 the heart may still be going out after God and commune with 
 Him unceasingly. 
 
 2nd. We must also pray per sever ingly^ importunately, believ- 
 ingly. We must always feel the need of a thing before we can 
 appreciate its worth. If your child asks for bread when it is noj. 
 
l! 
 
 II 
 
 ^4 
 
 I 
 ill 
 
 
 I 
 
 |: 
 
 146 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 hungry, and that unfelt request is granted, the child cannot 
 properly value the gift. And so it is in the case of a supplicant 
 in prayer ; if there is not an anxious desire for the blessing 
 sought, God would not be honored nor man benefited by the 
 answer ; but if there is an anxious desire, a deep sense of want, 
 the blessing will be received with gratitude and praise ; and in 
 proportion to the intensity of our desires, we shall perseveringly 
 seek the blessings we need. And I must urge you thus to con- 
 tinue instant in prayer, though God seems to delay the answer; 
 for often prayers have been answered in ways so unexpected 
 that while we have doubted or wondered whether God would 
 answer, He has already supplied our want — not in the manner 
 we had expected, but in the way He thought best. I beseech 
 you, persevere in pray^-^r, and be assured that God will answer 
 in His own time and in His own way, and that time and that 
 way will be best. He may create in you a state of mind 
 which will enable you to accept the wants and conditions of 
 your daily life with hopefulness and gratitude. He may 
 strengthen you to sacrifice your own will and bow implicitly to 
 the Divine Will. He may lift you above all selfish fear and 
 thoughts of personal convenience and gratification. He may 
 make you see that your supposed calamities are only blessings 
 in disguise. He may put far from you the mystery and trial 
 that hath hung over your life. While you are calling, the 
 heavens may be opened and the blessing be visibly poured out ; 
 but who shall say which is the divinest answer ? Let me urge 
 upon you the spirit of hallowed determination and believing 
 importunity. If God be silent, do not restrain prayer ; if He 
 answers not immediately, continue until the cloud gives promise 
 of rain. 
 
 THIRD — THE MOTIVE OF PRAYER. 
 
 Several motives might be considered, all of them urgent and 
 impressive, in favor of this duty. . We will consider three. 
 
 isf. Prayer contributes to the removal of evil. It removes 
 natural evil. It removed affliction in the case of Hezekiah, 
 sorrow in the case of David, oppression in the case of the Israe- 
 lites in Egypt, and Peter in prison. Prayer also removes moral 
 evil of every type and degree ; prayer also delivers from personal 
 evil, from social evil, from intellectual evil, from spiritual evil, 
 and from national evil. 
 
 
PRAYER. 
 
 147 
 
 
 27td. Prayer counteracts 7vrong passions and generates the spirit 
 -of benevolence and loi^e. Love to God and man comprises the 
 whole of religion; and what is more likely to promote love to- 
 wards our fellow creatures than bearing them in our minds be- 
 fore the Throne of Grace ? We cannot fail to feel for those for 
 whom we pray, unless our petitions are full of hypocrisy. To 
 pray for the welfare of another, and yet be indifferent to it, is 
 gross dissimulation. Approaching Ood for others, we become 
 their advoca.c" 3nd we cannot be indifferent toward those whose 
 cause we undertake. The principle of self-love has grown into 
 such proportions, through our habitual inattention to the well- 
 being of others, that we have almost forgotten the existence of 
 others ; but if we can be induced to step out of this narrow circle 
 and look upon the necessitous world, our natures are touched, 
 our own troubles appear less, and a generous compassion is 
 awakened for those around us. When spreading before God 
 the circumstances of a friendless orphan, an unprotected widow, 
 an afflicted sufferer, or the unhappy victim of demoniacal pas- 
 sion, we are moved to pity and concern, and extending the 
 solicitude to the whole world, we should feel : " Who is weak, 
 and I am not weak ?" In proportion as we pray for others will 
 narrowness vanish and the heart swell with genuine and uni- 
 versal affection. 
 
 3rd. Consider the constitutional consisteficy of prayer. Prayer 
 enters into the very nature and constitution of Christianity. 
 Only while the Christian prays he lives. In prayer he approaches 
 God, in prayer he realizes his relationship to Him ; in prayer 
 he pours out his desires, his hopes, his fears before Him : in 
 prayer he receives succour, and strength, and wisdom and power 
 from God. The more he lives in the spirit of prayer the nearer 
 he comes to God, for Heaven descends into his bosom and he 
 is filled with £#1 the fulness of God. Behold that privileged 
 mortal — the man of prayer, entering into filial communion with 
 God ! His heart is burdened and heavy- laden, but he rolls 
 his burden into the lap of the Eternal and finds relief He is 
 sore pressed by the enemy, but the name of the Lord is a 
 strong lower ; he runneth into it and is safe. He is weary be- 
 cause of the trials of the pilgrimage ; but he waits upon the 
 Lord and renews his strength. The soul is dark and 
 depressed ; but as he draws near to God, beamings from the 
 
 111 
 
 m 
 
148 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 uncreated glory shine upon him. How sublime the man ! He 
 has shut out the world and is shut in with God ; elevated for a 
 season above the earth, he turns from communion with the 
 creature to communion with the Creator. Peace fills the soul, 
 joy enraptures the heart, grace renews the nature, power pre- 
 serves the footsteps, glory bathes the soul; he is canopied 
 under the shadow of the everlasting Throne ; he is alive with 
 Cod — vitlized, crystalized, spiritualized by prayer, until com- 
 munion meetens for the endless friendship of Heaven. 
 
 You might go on to think and speak of the doings and 
 achievements of prayer, for prayer has achieved the most Her- 
 culean triumphs. It hath stopped the sun and chained the 
 moon, or it hath made the heavens smile with sunshine for the 
 space of three years and six months. It hath dried the sea and 
 divided rivers, and made the clouds withhold their rain, or it 
 hath maae the same skies weep for joy, while the clouds ha\ e 
 poured forth their fruitful showers. It hath dashed bulwarks to 
 the ground, quenched the violence of fise, stopped the mouths 
 of lions, turned to flight the armies ot the aliens, robbed death 
 of its prey, and hell of its expectations. It hath stayed the 
 hand of Divine vengeance in mid-air, so that it spared the 
 cumberer another year. It hath changed the most dissipated 
 and abandoned of men into saints of the Most High God, and 
 it hath made the dreariness and desolation of death to be re- 
 kindled with immortality. I urge, then, that whatever your 
 care or grief or sorrow or distress, you carry it at once to the 
 Mercy-seat of God. Tell him all your heart, and He will 
 undertake for you. Christian, 
 
 •' Hast thou within a care so deep 
 It chases from thy eyelids sleep ? 
 To thy Redeemer take that care, 
 And change anxiety to prayer. * 
 
 *' Whate'er the care that breaks thy res*-, 
 Whate'er the wish that swells thy breast, 
 Spread before God that wish, that care, 
 And change anxiety to prayer." 
 
 I 
 
 n h 
 
II 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 
 SPIRITUAL QUICKENING. 
 
 fe 
 
 "^'And you hath he quickened tofio were dead in trespasses and sins." — 
 Ephesians II, 1. 
 
 I HIS Epistle, written by Paul to the Church at Ephesus, 
 expresses the Apostle's profound interest in the 
 Ephesian Church. Several reasons might be assigned 
 '^^^ for his strong and persistent attachment to that Church. 
 Beyond his ordinary regard, as a Christian, for the triumph of 
 the cause of Christ, and his desire for the well-being of all who 
 name the name of Christ, Paul had planted the Church at 
 Ephesus, and afterwards revisited it and remained there preach- 
 ing the gospel longer than in any other place during his pub- 
 lic ministry, and he only left it at last when compelled by the 
 tumult excited by Demetrius. He then left Timothy there for 
 a time to complete the work which he had begun. Added to 
 this Ephesus v>as at this time called the first and greatest 
 metropolis of Asia, made so by the Romans ; therefore it was 
 a great centre of population and influence, and it was pre-emi- 
 nently the headquarters of idolatry. 1 he celebrity of the city 
 was chiefly owing to the famous temple and the great goddess, 
 Diana ; so that Paul sought to be strong in the strongholds of 
 idolatry. Here, also, Paul had realized considerable success, 
 and had baptized twelve persons whom he found there, dis- 
 ciples of John the Baptist. The fact of this letter being 
 specially addressed to the Ephesians, has been called in ques- 
 tion. It is possible it was an encyclical letter, meant to circu- 
 late among a number of Churches, of which Ephesus was the 
 chief. But be that as it may, this letter is a most invaluable 
 one. You perceive the Apostle's aim in it is to show forth the 
 origin and headship and perfection and graces of the Christian 
 
'5° 
 
 SPIRITUAL QUICKENING. 
 
 !: 
 
 Church. With great tenderness of feeh'ng and power of appeal 
 he sets forth man's state, man's obHgation, man's possible 
 spiritual attainments, man's entire dependence on Christ, man's 
 blessedness and safety when found in Christ. It is of man's 
 state by nature and his condition when spiritually renewed by 
 grace, that this text speaks. 
 
 FIRST — YOU HAVK MAN'S MORAL DEPRAVITY SYMBOLIZED : 
 
 " Dead in trespasses and sins." 
 
 I St. This implies the absence or retreat of a principle which 
 properly belongs to^ and 7vas once possessed by man. It would 
 be improper and absurd to speak of anything as dead which 
 was never endowed with a living principle. We never speak 
 of the inanimate parts of creation as dead. We never speak of 
 a stone as dead, because no living power has ever been ex- 
 tinguished in it. It is only of what once had life, and that 
 life is withdrawn, that we say that it is dead. Thus we 
 speak of plants, of animals, of men, when bereft of the 
 vital or life-giving principle. Now the death that has over- 
 spread the soul of the unrenewed consists in privations, in 
 the withdrawal of what originally belonged to the soul 
 and was its life, for as the life of the body is derived from 
 its union with the soul and continues no longer than while that 
 union subsists, (for the moment the soul departs decomposition 
 begins) so the life of the soul is derived from its union with 
 God. But when man sinned, the Deity retired from the 
 soul, and the effect of that withdrawal is that though it is not 
 deprived of its natural powers, it is robbed of its real life ; for 
 spiritual life is not mere existence. Fallen angels exist, but 
 they are wholly destitute of the great elements of Divine life. 
 It is essential to life that the nature which exists should appro- 
 priate and possess whatever will render that existence supremely 
 desirable and happy. In Paradise man found his happines only 
 in the source of his being, and separation from that source is 
 spiritual death , so that the withdrawment of God is, with re- 
 spect to the soul, what the withdrawment of the soul is, in re- 
 lation to the body. In each case the inevitable result is death. 
 This view of the subject ought to fill us with anxiety and grief 
 Had man never possessed the Divine life, there would be less 
 to deplore in his condition. We are less affected at the con- 
 
 \ 
 
SPIRITUAL QUICKENINCI. 
 
 151 
 
 sideration of what we never possessed than by the deprivation 
 of what we once had. We look at the inanimate parts of crea- 
 tion without emotion, because, though destitute of Hfe, they 
 never possessed it ; but when we look upon a dead body how 
 differently we feel, and here, remember, an immortal spirit once 
 dwelt, which has now fled and left only the ruins ot a man. 
 But we should be far more affected still in contemplating a 
 dead soul. Here, we should remember, God once dwelt. The 
 soul was once illuminated with the Divine smile and reflected 
 the Divine image ; but all has vanished, and the soul, over- 
 spread with spiritual darkness and death, manifests its lapsed 
 and fallen state by the absence of the living one. 
 
 2nd. It implies the completeness and universality of tnan's 
 moral pollution. Life admits of many degrees and kinds. 
 There is vegetive life, as in plants ; animal life, as in animals ; 
 rational life, as in man ; and so on, up through the whole range 
 of life. n.nd where life is of the same sort, it is susceptible of 
 different degrees. It is much more perfect in the larger sort of 
 animals than in reptiles, and the vital principle in different 
 men exists with various degrees of vigor. There are different 
 degrees of life through the whole chain of existence, (though a 
 link of inseparable connection), from the most tiny insect to 
 the first seraph before the throne. But there are no degrees in 
 death. All things of which it can be truly said, they are dead, 
 are equally so, so that all who are dead in sin are equally so. 
 There are some unconverted persons of gentle disposition and 
 moral blamelessness ; but notwithstanding these amiable and 
 engaging qualities they are not temples of the Holy Ghost, and 
 therefore they are dead — spiritually dead. There are some 
 who, by the influence of a holy example and a pious educa- 
 tion, exhibit a fair exterior, but they are alienated from the life 
 of God and spiritually dead within. You may lay it down as 
 a principle to which there is not a solitary exceetion, that what- 
 ever the moral character exhibited to the world may be, every 
 unrenewed person is dead in trespasses and sins, for *' to be 
 carnally minded is death." Not only is it thus intensively radi- 
 cal and complete, but it is also extensively unlimited. From 
 whatever cause it may be conceived to have originated, the fact 
 is certain that a moral disease has spread itself throughout all 
 mankind. In whatever station, or in whatever region of the 
 
 
 m 
 
m 
 
 M 
 
 I 
 
 ;| i 
 
 152 
 
 SPIRITUAL QUICK.ENIN0. 
 
 €arth they may be placed, whether you look on the generations 
 of old, or survey the moral state of nations in modern times ; 
 whether you view the abodes of savage or civilized life ; 
 whether you contemplate the character of the higher orders of 
 society, or the practices which abound among the inferior ranks 
 of life, the stamp of moral depravity, in one form or another, 
 is impressed on the general conduct of all. Watch the earliest 
 direction of the spirit after it wakes up into life, and they are 
 wandering footsteps that stray from the womb, speaking lies. 
 Down the long aisle of time there runs one sickening perpetuity 
 of sin, transmitted without exception from generation to 
 generation. Spend your life in perpetual travel until you 
 have belted the whole earth in your journey, and you cannot 
 escape from under thq shadow of the curse, or find the land 
 where original sin has not worked its work of death. Wars, 
 dissensions, bloodshed, murder, suicide, cruelties, selfish con- 
 tentions for power and territory, all proclaim the moral de- 
 pravity of the race; and the recurrence perpetually, of the same 
 evils in so many different latitudes and under so many differ- 
 ent forms incontestibly proves that *' all have sinned and come 
 short of the glory of God." 
 
 jr/f. This suggests that man's spiritual death was occasioned 
 by a violation of the Divine law. " Dead in trespasses and 
 sins." The essence of sin is a voluntary disregard of the Di- 
 vine authority ; the creature acting on his own will in contempt 
 of the supreme will, preferring a prohibited to a prescribed 
 course. It is the assumption of independence in the dictation 
 and control of our own ways, so that the rejection of the Divine 
 command is at once the essence of sin, and the essential sin of 
 man. The real germ of sin in man is not the latent depraved 
 tendencies of our moral nature which predispose in favor of sin, 
 or the external influences which are brought to bear upon us 
 from without which incite to the commission of evil. They are 
 both essentially sinful, but man's sin is in his own voluntary 
 concession or yielding to both. In every act of transgression 
 there must be, and is, the concurrence of our own wills, and it 
 is by placing our will in voluntary antagonism to the Divine 
 that we commit ourselves to the tides of depravity, and are 
 overwhelmed with desolation and death. But this Scripture 
 not only reveals the nature of sin, it also represents it as a 
 
 1 ■ 
 
SPIRITUAL QUICKENING. 
 
 '53 
 
 erations 
 I times ; 
 ed life; 
 )rders of 
 or ranks 
 another, 
 ; earliest 
 they are 
 :ing lies. 
 ;rpetuity 
 ation to 
 ntil you 
 u cannot 
 the land 
 I. Wars, 
 Ifish con- 
 noral de- 
 the same 
 ny differ- 
 md come 
 
 L 
 
 ccasioned 
 isses and 
 )f the Di- 
 contempt 
 irescribed 
 dictation 
 le Divine 
 ial sin of 
 depraved 
 vor ofsin, 
 upon us 
 They are 
 voluntary 
 isgression 
 Is, and it 
 le Divine 
 , and are 
 Scripture 
 :s it as a 
 
 power which encases the soul, " dead in trespasses and sins ;" 
 as though sin were the winding-sheet in which the soul of man 
 is wrapped, or a cofifin in whi.h it is enclosed, or a grave in 
 which it is buried with all the air and repulsiveness of death. 
 
 SECOND — YOU HAVE TO LOOK AT MAN's SPIRITUAL QUICiCENING. 
 
 "And you hath He quickened." 
 The quickening of which the Apostle speaks, is real and 
 practical and saving. Let us seek to realize both the manner 
 of its accomplishment and the results it produces on the soul, 
 and its moral experience. 
 
 I St. The Spirit quickens by an application of truth to the heart. 
 It is manifest that one great instrument employed by the Spirit 
 for the quickening of man is the W< rd of truth. The Spirit does 
 not produce the change in man called "passing from death unto 
 life," independent of man himself. It is not by mere force that 
 he subdues, but by argument, persuasion, and motive. He 
 looks on man, not as a mere machine, but as a rational, reflec- 
 tive agent, and therefore approaches his heart througli the 
 medium of his intellect. Else for what purpose exists the 
 written testimony, and for what end is it addressed to man ? It 
 proceeds on the assumption that he is possessed of intelligent 
 and reasoning powers, and the Spirit, in his operation, takes 
 this for granted, and so acts agreeable to the nature and consti- 
 tution of man, and it is when the mind is in contact with the 
 truths and doctrines of revelation that the Spirit communicates 
 his influence, not to force the man to believe, but to dispose 
 the heart (naturally disinclined to the spiritual) to receive and 
 embrace the saving Word. And when any one, by being brought 
 into contact with the truth, becomes the subject of religious im- 
 pressions, his convictions can be regarded in no other light than 
 the Spirit moving upon the soul to lead it to the possession of 
 spiritual life. And it may be further said that the influence of 
 the Spirit is inseparable from the Word of God. Frequently 
 the same mistake is made in the world of mind as in the world 
 of matter. We speak of this material universe as governed by 
 certain laws, and preserved in all its order and harmony by the 
 . force of gravitation. Now, what is this force of gravitation ? Is 
 it something wholly independent of the will of God — something 
 which He has evoked from the^silence and depth of eternity. 
 
'54 
 
 SPIRITUAL QUICKENING. 
 
 1 SJ 
 
 :! '■- i 
 
 apart from Himself? No. And just as the law of gravitation- 
 can be resolved into the ever-acting energy of the Divine will, 
 in preserving and upholding the physical universe, so the pro- 
 visions and laws of the Christian economy are not something 
 separate from the Spirit, but rather the Spirit himself, in and 
 through these, acting on the inner and moral nature of man. 
 So that you see by the truth we mean more than the mere letter 
 of Scripture, or the doctrines and articles of our faith. We in- 
 clude that which the letter contains, and between the letter and 
 the Spirit there is an inseparable connexion. Christ said : "The 
 words that I speak unto you, they are spirit and they are life." 
 The Word may be but the envelope which encloses the Spirit, 
 but the Spirit, acting through the letter, quickens the soul into 
 a newness of life. So that you see, by adopting and realizing 
 the spirit and essence of what the written Word sets forth, we 
 are brought into fellowship with that power by which man is 
 quickened and restored to the life of God. 
 
 2nd. The Spirit quickens by a spiritual discovery of Christ to 
 the soul. It is possible in conducting a man to Sinai's dreadful 
 mount that the conscience may be startled and the mind deeply 
 awed as he hears the thunder's mutter, sees the lightning's flash, 
 and listens to the voice of a present God. But heighten the 
 splendor connected with the giving of the law as we may — let 
 us conceive of the cloud which encircled the mount as dark 
 and rare at the outskirt, but bright, burning, and unapproacha- 
 ble in the centre — let us conceive of the great Eternal descend- 
 ing upon the mount, and the lustre of His Godhead bursting 
 the veil with which He was clothed, till the whole scene is con- 
 verted into one flood of burning glory — yet it is not so adapted 
 to awaken and subdue the soul as the cross of Christ and the 
 tragic scene of Calvary. Christ crucified possesses a marvellous 
 power over the hearts and consciences of men, and when beheld 
 by faith fascinates the soul as by the cnarm of a resistless spell; 
 " For I, if I be lifted up, will draw all mtn unto me," said 
 Christ. No radical, saving change can be effected in man with- 
 out the manifestation of Christ to the heart. The terrors of the 
 law alone cannot subdue or change the nature of man ; the law 
 may show the heinousness of sin and the danger to which the 
 sinner is exposed, but it cannot produce a complete spiritual 
 quickening. The law will show the disease, but Christ must 
 
SPIRITUAL QUICKENING. 
 
 »S5 
 
 ntatiot* 
 ne will, 
 he pro- 
 [lething 
 in and 
 >f man. 
 re letter 
 We in- 
 tter and 
 : "The 
 •e life." 
 I Spirit, 
 oul into 
 ealizing 
 )rth, we 
 man is 
 
 "Christ to 
 dreadful 
 d deeply 
 g's flash, 
 lien the 
 fiay — let 
 as dark 
 Droacha- 
 escend- 
 )ursting 
 is con- 
 adapted 
 and the 
 irvellous 
 n beheld 
 ss spell; 
 le," said 
 an with- 
 »rs of the 
 the law 
 lich the 
 spiritual 
 ist must 
 
 reveal the remedy. The law thunders its sentence of doom, but 
 the Saviour whispers the promise of escape and salvation. The 
 law kills, but Christ makes alive. The law, at most, is only a 
 school-master to lead us to Christ. Now, there is a revelation 
 of Christ found in the Scriptures — for the heart of the Bible is 
 big with Christ ; but in spiritual quickening something more 
 than an acquaintance with the record of Christ's life and teach- 
 ings, and miracles, and history is necessary. There must be an 
 internal revelation ; the veil of unbelief must be removed from 
 the understanding and the heart, and the Spirit must afford that 
 inward and Divine light by which alone Christ is seen in His 
 saving and renewing power. Now, as soon as the soul realizes 
 the knowledge of Christ in this inward and complet sense the 
 understanding is enlightened, the heart subdued, and every ele- 
 ment of moral death is dispersed by the indwelling of the 
 Spirit of Christ, while the soul, wondering and grateful at the 
 new and sublime light that has dawned upon it, reverently 
 exclaims : *' God, who commandeth His light to shine out of 
 darkness, hath shined into our hearts to give us the light of the 
 knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." 
 This is the sort of revelation Paul speaks of when he attributes 
 the change wrought in him to a spiritual discovery of Christ : 
 ** When it pleased God to reveal his son in me, immediately I 
 conferred not with flesh and blood." But he went forth at once 
 to fulfil Christ's will and to obey Christ's command and to 
 reflect Christ's spirit, because Christ was formed in him the 
 hope of glory. 
 
 j/t/. The Spirit quickens by the renovation of the hearty and 
 the restoration of the moral nature to conformity and sympathy 
 with the Divine. The indwelling of the Spirit involves more 
 than a mere formal reception of Christianity. It in- 
 vests man with moral excellence. If Christianity be the 
 sublimest and most uplifting energy that can go forth on the 
 soul of man, its effect must be seen in all that is pure, elevated 
 and heavenly. It is not the mere intellect that is involved in 
 the belief of Christian truth ; there is another region in which it 
 exerts its vital influence, converting a world of darkness and 
 sin into a world of light and holiness. It is a part of our 
 Christian consciousness that the reasonings and conclusions of 
 the mind are followed by the approbation of the heart ; and 
 
 n 
 
156 
 
 SPIRITUAL QUICKENING. 
 
 
 In ;• 
 
 ij »' 
 
 such is the inherent excellence of Christianity that it engages 
 the best feelings and affections of the soul. Perceiving its un- 
 rivaled excellence, the humble enquirer gives it an unfettered 
 introduction into the temple of the soul, and entering that 
 sacred region it exerts its transforming power on the moral 
 principles of man, and, as the result, new feelings and dispo- 
 sitions are inducer, the mind, turning from all its former inclina- 
 tions and pursuits, is directed to objects pure and consistent, 
 and while the mind views things through another and better 
 medium the affections are placed on objects in harmony with 
 the renewed nature, and there is a real and perceptible corres- 
 pondence between the object and the nature to which it is pre- 
 sented for possession. A pure nature can have no relish for 
 impure things, and as the affections become purified and centred 
 in God, the man will exhibit those tendencies and devote him- 
 self to those pursuits which will evince to all " that he hath 
 passed from death unto life." And as the Divine life inter- 
 penetrates the nature and dwells in the very centre of the being, 
 it will raise the man into the likeness of God, enabling him to 
 participate in God's nature, to share His fellowships, lean on 
 His bosom, know His mind, and thus be completely restored 
 to the likeness and communion of God. And as the Divine 
 life deepens and expands in the soul and the man becomes 
 more and more filled with God, the attraction of outer evil 
 ceases, while the attraction of the Divine draws the soul into 
 closer and yet closer relations to God, till all like Him, the re- 
 . newed and transformed man is meetened for the inheritance of 
 the saints in light. 
 
 You cannot contemplate this subject without seeing the 
 painful and ruinous effects of sin. Sin induced and perpetu- 
 ates moral death in the world. But you also see the power and 
 instrumentality by which 1 ipsed humanity may be restored to 
 the fellowship and likeness of God. The Eternal Spirit is the 
 one agent in man's moral recovery. The inefficiency of every 
 human means to restore man has been fully proved, for, tried 
 on the broadest scale, and by the most gifted and skilled hands, 
 it has been tested and found incapable of fulfilling its self-im- 
 . posed task. Every effect must have an adequate cause, and 
 . nothing can change the moral chaos of the world into the order 
 ' and loveliness of its primeval state but the Spirit which first 
 
SPIRITUAL QUICKENING. 
 
 '57 
 
 engages 
 ig its un- 
 nfettered 
 ring that 
 e moral 
 d dispo- 
 r inclina- 
 insistent, 
 d better 
 ony with 
 ; corres- 
 it is pre- 
 elish for 
 i centred 
 ote hini- 
 
 he hath 
 life inter- 
 he being, 
 I him to 
 
 lean on 
 
 restored 
 J Divine 
 becomes 
 )uter evil 
 >oul into 
 n, there- 
 itance of 
 
 said, " Let there be light, and there was light," for "it is not by 
 might nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord of 
 Hosts. 
 
 y 
 
 4 
 
 eing the 
 perpetu- 
 ower and 
 stored to 
 irit is the 
 of every 
 for, tried 
 ed hands, 
 s self-im- 
 ause, and 
 the order 
 rhich first 
 
 ■ti 
 
SERMON V. 
 
 NOAH'S FAITH. 
 
 i 1 
 
 !i 
 
 "J?j/ faith Nonh, hnny warned o/Ood of things not seen as yet^ moved with 
 fear, prepared an ark to the savinjf of his house ; by the which he con- 
 demned t/ie world, and became heir oj the righteousness which is by 
 faith."— Heb. XI., 7. 
 
 HE moment we refer to Antediluvian times, our curiosity 
 is at once excited. We ask a thousand questions, which 
 no one can solve. We enquire what sort of people were 
 Qj . they that lived before the flood ? What were their 
 manners, and customs, and habits of life ? What form of gov- 
 ernment did they live under ? And in what way were their 
 laws taught and proclaimed ? What language did they speak ? 
 And did all the people speak one tongue ? Were they divided 
 up into separate nations, with all the features and phases of 
 nationality as at present ? Did they then war and aggress on 
 each other as nations do today ? These, with a number of 
 other enquiries press upon us until we turn somewhere hoping 
 to find relief or solution. But the Scriptures, the only correct 
 and authentic history of the world before the flood, do not 
 satisfy our curiosity, or aid our difficulty. The account given 
 in the Bible of this world before the flood is so brief that it is 
 but a sketch rather than an historic record of the men, and 
 times, and deeds, and events that happened in that early era of 
 the world. Of the celebrated personages that then flourished, 
 the names are seldom mentioned, and the transactions in which 
 they engaged are not specified in detail. The inhabitants of 
 the old world pass before us like the shade of departed great- 
 ness, with an infallible judgment passed on their character, and 
 a distinct declaration of their doom. But amid the deep and 
 universal pollution that then abounded, it is pleasing to find 
 
NOAHS KAIIfl. 
 
 '59 
 
 x)ved with 
 cfi he con- 
 Vicli is bii 
 
 curiosity 
 IS, which 
 )ple were 
 ere their 
 1 of^ov- 
 2re their 
 y speak ? 
 1 divided 
 (hases of 
 gress on 
 imber of 
 e hoping 
 y correct 
 i, do not 
 int given 
 that it is 
 nen, and 
 ly era of 
 ourished, 
 in which 
 )itants of 
 :ed great- 
 cter, and 
 deep and 
 to find 
 
 that God had, at least one witness for Himself, a man whose 
 genuine piety, eminent principles, sublime religiousness, and 
 distinguished character, enabled him to shine forth as a brilliant 
 light and example amid surrounding depravity and sin. No 
 wonder that Paul places this man, Noah, on the muster-roll of 
 the heroes of faith. 
 
 FIRST — NOAH's faith. 
 
 ist. Noah's was a faith pf obedience. Being warned or com- 
 inanded ot God, he prepared an ark. In the Book of Genesis 
 you read, " Thus did Noah according to all that God com- 
 manded him, so did he." This was said of him with special 
 reference^ to his compliance with the Divine directions respect- 
 ing the ark. Viewed in all its aspects, this is one of the finest 
 instances of obedience on record. That which he was com- 
 manded to bi'ild was a vast structure — a work of years. The 
 labor and experience necessary to procure and prepare the ma- 
 terials, and then construct it, was immense. Its dimensions 
 and description and materials arc fully outlined in the Book of 
 Genesis. Ace rding to Hebrew measurement, the ark was 
 about 525 feet long, 87 feet wide, and 52 feet high. Thus you 
 see, it was an immense structure, by far the largest vessel that 
 ever floated upon the waters. The principal material used in 
 its construction was gopher wood, /*. e. pine, or cypress. With 
 lower, second and third stories he was to make it, and with 
 rooms or apartments for the different kinds of animals, and for 
 the accomodation of the living inmates. There were to be 
 windows for light and ventilation, and a door for ingress and 
 egress. It was not modeled like a modern ship, or equipped 
 with rudder and sails. Had it been built like a ship, from a 
 keel, with curving bottom, it could not have aftenvards rested 
 on dry land without falling over on its side, to the danger of its 
 occupants. It was a large vessel, answering exactly the purpose 
 for which it was designed. Concerning the place where the ark 
 was built, conjecture has said strange things. One supposes it 
 was built in Palestine, another in Mount Caucassia, another in 
 China, another in New York. In the absence of definite infor- 
 mation, it is most probable from tradition and inference that it 
 was built in the land of Shinar, on the banks of the Tigris. If 
 asked whether Noah took the whole of the 120 years to build 
 the ark, we should reply, no, for in that case, without a miracle 
 
 II 
 
 ,:!!^i 
 
i6o 
 
 NOAH S FAITH. 
 
 it 
 
 
 I 
 
 ;i 
 !i. 
 
 1 ! 
 
 I! I )' 
 
 
 the first part of the vessel would decay before the last was 
 finished. This huge craft, constructed for an unwonted 
 emergency, Noah built at the command of God and in obedi- 
 ence to His word. 
 
 2nd. JVba/i's faith was persistent and persevering. Being 
 warned of God of things not seen as yet, he belived God's word 
 and accepted it as true and certain. The length of time that 
 intervened between the first intimations of the deluge, and the 
 actual flood, afforded many striking proofs of the mental and 
 moral character of Noah, and the strength and persistence of 
 his faith. When God indicated His determination to destroy 
 the world for its iniquity, without doubt unbelief often whispered, 
 surely this cannot be God's voice ? Will God find it in His 
 heart to destroy every living thing ? And where will He find 
 water enough to drown the world ? And how will the creatures 
 to be preserved, be collected, and kept in the ark ? And a 
 thousand other difficulties unbelief would suggest in all these 
 years. Yet Noah perseveres. And while going forth as a 
 preacher of righteousness, he would require no small courage. 
 It is a comparatively easy thing to pieach righteousness when 
 public sentiment is on onr side, but it is a hard and difficult 
 work when sin hath universal dominion. Yet this man, un- 
 daunted, went forth to instruct and warn, and reprove the peo- 
 ple, telling them of God's purpose, unless they repented of their 
 sins. Some would laugh and scoff, others persecute, others 
 turn indifferently away. Yet he continued to remonstrate and 
 warn up to the last moment of Divine forbearance. What faith 
 and boldness ! What an example to us who are ashamed or 
 afraid to express our abhorence of evil, or adherence to virtue's 
 side ! What a reproof to those timid spirits who are afraid to 
 reprove popular wrong ! We need more men like Noah, wha 
 in love and pity will ceaselessly toil to urge people to repent 
 and escape the menacing doom. And yet, with iron nerve, and 
 manly courage, will speak out boldly the words of truth and 
 dare to be singular for Christ's sake, and persevere in this course 
 unswervingly, amid ungodlmess and opposition, or unfaithful- 
 ness and unremunerative fields of waste. In your faith and 
 fidelity, be like Noah, firm as the rock that hath weathered a 
 thousand storms. Let not allurement withdraw, or terror drive 
 you from the adherence to the right. Though mockery and re- 
 
 !; 
 
NOAH S FAITH. 
 
 l6l 
 
 proach, menace, or whatever heli can [invent, or depravity per- 
 form be tried upon you, "cleave unto the Lord with purpose of 
 heart." 
 
 3rd. Noah's was a faith of patience. Noah's faith was tried 
 not a little. The length of time, 1 20 years, was a severe tax 
 itself It is true, viewed comparatively, the length of time, 
 compared with the life of man before the flood and now, was 
 only about the eighth part of a life. But the years were not 
 less because of the length to which men lived, for a man to 
 wait all these years till the cup of iniquity was full — till the long- 
 suffering mercy of God was exhausted, without any sign to con- 
 firm his faith — with nothing but the testimony of God, was a 
 patient continuance rarely equalled. But then Noah had to 
 meet much that was hard to bear. His patience, as well as his 
 integrity, was severely tested. He was exposed to scoff", and 
 insult, and ridicule. Whilst collecting materials and building 
 the ark, sneering ridicule would diligently ply its weapons, and 
 pour out its abusive tirade, and there is scarce anything harder 
 to bear than this. Many have shrunk from glorious enterprises, 
 rather than be objects of ridicule. Many have left the path of 
 duty, with their work half done, because they could not bear 
 the scoffs of men. But Noah executed all the work assigned 
 him. He preached all the days he was appointed, and fulfiled 
 his other tasks, notwithstanding all that he had to meet He 
 bore up bravely to the last, and only ceased his work when the 
 Lord shut him in. Now, as you see Noah's faith bearing him up 
 amid the fiercest trials, and nerving him to perform the most 
 trying and sin-condemning work, you cannot wonder that it 
 is said he became an heir, or possessor of the righteousness 
 which is by faith — was ranked among its most illustrious ex- 
 amples and heired its richest heritage. 
 
 SECOND — NOAH's FAITH CONDEMNED THE WORLD OVERTHROWN 
 
 BY THE FLOOD. 
 
 How Noah's faith condemned the guilty world is easily seen, 
 and requires no elaboration. The saving of a good man is as a 
 sentence against the sin and negligence of all who are un- 
 saved. They having had the same means, and privileges, and 
 opportunities, they might have embraced the same salvation and 
 blessings. 
 
 W\ 
 
 
l62 
 
 NOAHS FAITH. 
 
 l'- 
 
 . .f 
 
 
 \< 
 
 Several questions will arise, that should be briefly answered. 
 It may be asked, "Had Noah ho other sons than these three who 
 were saved in the ark ?" Undoubtedly he had, for he was five 
 hundred years old when Japheth, the eldest of these three was 
 born. In all probability, Noah, like the other antediluvians, 
 begun to sustain the parental relation at about fifty years of age, 
 so that it is only reasonable to infer that Noah's family in more 
 than four hundred years, must have been large. But very likely, 
 under the pernicious influence of that age, they had become 
 corrupt and depraved, and therefore undistinguishable from 
 the ungodly world, so that they shared the faie of the multi- 
 tude whose example they had imitated, while, in all probability, 
 these three sons, born after Noah had received intimations of 
 the deluge, he exercised over them a more rigorous and re- 
 straintive influence, and suffered them not to wander unre- 
 strained, as the others had done. So that Noah's faith, like 
 many a godly parent's now, condemned some of his own 
 household. It will be further asked : " Was the deluge uni- 
 versal V^ The language of the Bible plainly indicates that it 
 was, for it says : ** All the high hills, that were under the whole 
 heaven, were covered." It is clear from the testimony of 
 Scripture, that all mankind, except those in the ark were 
 destroyed by the flood. Whether the waters extended over 
 the whole surface of the globe, I cannot say, for I know not 
 whether the whole world was peopled then. It is certain from 
 the age of the world, and the length of human life, that the 
 population at that time must have been equal to the present 
 population of the world. And if all the habitable parts of the 
 earth were then peopled, in the most literal and geographical 
 sense, it was submerged. The Geological argument, for a uni- 
 versal deluge, founded on the fossil remains, discovered in the 
 rocky strata of the highest mountains, I leave. It is from the 
 variety of every climate collected in the ark, and from the 
 clear testimony of Scripture, that I see the absolute univer- 
 sality of the deluge. 
 
 It may be further asked, " Where did all the water come from 
 by which the earth was overflowed ?" You observe the Bible 
 says, " then were the windows of heaven opened." So that the 
 water, instead of descending in drops, fell in torrents. It is 
 also declared that " the fountains of the great deep were broken 
 
NOAH S FAITH. 
 
 163 
 
 up " — an expression that many old writers thought denoted a 
 vast ocean in the interior of the earth, from whence the waters 
 ■came. But science has shown that the interior of the earth is 
 a bed of fire, instead of water, so that the expression indi- 
 cates that the waters of the globe were lifted up and made to 
 overflow. Thus, you see that the rain which fell for forty days 
 and nights was assisted in its work of ruin by the overflowing 
 seas. 
 
 What must have been Noah's feelings when the Lord sh . 
 him in ! With what emotion he must have gazed forth from 
 the window of the ark, upon the dying world, and witnessed 
 the wide-spread death struggle, and heard the shrieking out of 
 universal life ! Without doubt his whole soul was stirred when 
 he saw the gates of death so crowded, and not a few of his 
 relatives lost forever. But who shall describe the feelings and 
 expressions of the condemned ones themselves ? You have 
 seen or read of partial floods and inundations, when dams have 
 given way, or great rivers swollen by the melting snows, or 
 abundant rains, have spread desolation and death for miles 
 around, and that scene of ruin and distress has made your flesh 
 creep. But what is that to the deluge here referred to ? What 
 is the destruction of a few to the loss of a world ? Oh, you 
 cannot realize that day, that scene, when the heavens poured 
 down their floods in merciless torrents, and the great deep lifted 
 up its voice, and roared its dirge of death, and when the foam- 
 ing waters, on every side met to cut off the last hope of man ! 
 I have seen pictures vivid and heartrending, but they are only 
 pictures, the reality of this scene defies description. See those 
 men who had scoffed and mocked for long at the old fanatic's 
 faith, when the waters had actually commenced to rise, rushing 
 toward the ark and imploring shelter, when it was too late. 
 Entry was then impossible, for God had barred the door. See 
 them then turn toward the highest tower, or rush frantically to 
 the top of the h'ghest mountain ! The aged and the sick are 
 swept down the flood, with no one to relieve. The mother, 
 frantic and wild, lifts her child on her arms to keep it out of 
 the water in which she herself is drowning. There the young 
 man of strength, who has climbed the highest tree, with his 
 sister in his arms, holds on till his limbs are stiff and they fall 
 helpless into the foaming flood. From those high cliffs, men 
 
 ■-'.I 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
i!'i 
 
 164 
 
 NOAH's KAITH. 
 
 i \: * 
 
 and beasts drop one by one in their exhaustion. Those on the 
 high mountains, who have been watching the awful swell of 
 wafers, now feel the terror of their lot. Hunger and want pur- 
 sue them like an armed man, and add to their despair. The 
 waters still rise, and the area of possible existence narrows until 
 at last every barricade, and tower, and mountain is overflowed, 
 and the last survivor shrieks out the wail of his dispair and 
 sinks to share the common ruin. What a scene that drowned 
 world presented ! What a sound that death groan of expiring 
 humanity ! But as you think of that scene of desolation, and 
 remember the sin, the unbelief, that condemned that world, 
 and the faith that outrode the storm and came forth from the 
 flood to be the father of a new generation. Look on and on 
 to the end of time and the grand assize of the last day, and 
 think of the second deluge of fire that will one day consume 
 this world, and then remember the millions whose faith in 
 Christ shall forever shut them in with God, while all that lived 
 in sin and died in unbelief shall perish without hope, or shelter, 
 or refuge. '* For shall not the Judge of all the earth do 
 right." And remembering that, fly at once to the refuge set 
 before you, so that you may be prepared for that awful day 
 whenever it shall come to pass, and enter through the gates 
 into that city whose builder and maker is God. 
 
SERMON VI. 
 
 MOSES' FAITH. 
 
 Sy faith Moses, when he was come to years, refused to be called the son of 
 PharaoKs daughter; choosing rather to suffer affliction mth the people 
 of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season; eMeeming t/ie 
 reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures in Egypt ;for he 
 fiad respect unto the recompense oj the reward. Heb. xi., 24-26. 
 
 GRAND chapter of heroism is this 
 ter of the Epistle to the Hebrews, 
 a very brief summary of that holy 
 the most distinguished saints, of 
 
 eleventh chap- 
 In it you have 
 war, in which 
 former times, 
 
 so nobly engaged. It reveals the principles by which 
 they were inspired, and the grand achievements by which 
 their names are handed down to a worthy immortality. It shows 
 yo' tnat the battles they fought were bloodlessly achieved, and 
 their victories peacefully won, over foes the most powerful, and 
 trials the most severe, and sufferings the most protracted. In 
 this bright constellation of ancient worthies you have described 
 the same faith, but very diversely exercised, under very differ- 
 ent circumstances, showing that while faith is one in essence, it 
 is many-sided in its forms of expression and power of service. 
 In looking at the faith of Moses, you see a man of rare gifts, and 
 great wisdom, and much culture, and distinguished bravery, and 
 great possessions, and brilliant prospects, made yet greater by 
 faith. 
 
 FIRST — MOSES' FAITH AND ITS ACHIEVEMENTS. 
 
 isf. The nature of his faith. We read "That he endured as 
 seeing Him who is invisible.' ' Thus you see his faith realized 
 the unseen and future, and brought it into his present consci- 
 ousness. The man who has no true faith lives only in the 
 
 j 
 J 
 
1 66 
 
 MOSES FAITH. 
 
 ' r 
 
 i ' 
 
 H 
 
 i 
 
 world that is seen and present. The pressure of outward and 
 visible things limit and restrict him. The claims of business, 
 or pleasure, or trial are all absorbing; and being so engrossed 
 he is blind to, and almost unconscious of all beyond. But faith 
 penetrates the thin partition of matter, which separates the 
 unseen and invisible /rom us, and makes us conscious of its 
 reality and power, and we at once feel that the future is present; 
 the hidden, real ; and that the eternal incloses us on every 
 side. We feel constrained to live as if heaven were real 
 and eternity everything. In this way the faith of Moses exerted 
 its legitimate influence and brought him into real and living 
 sympathy with eternity and God ; and he accepted God's will, 
 and word, and purposes concerning him, with unhesitating 
 faith and devotion. He did not doubt, but believed with a per- 
 suasion and confidence that banished all hesitation and fear. 
 The want of assurance is the secret of the limited influence 
 which Divine truth exerts on many who professedly believe it. 
 A celebrated historian has remarked of the Roman philoso- 
 pher "That they profess to believe in a future state, but it 
 had no influence over them because they were so uncertain." 
 The same may be said of a great many of the professors of 
 Christianity. The truth they profess has little influence upon 
 them because they do not receive it with assurance and cer- 
 tainty. They are not sufficiently convinced of its reality. They 
 profess to believe what they really and practically doubt. But 
 in the case of Moses, as it should be with all Christians, the 
 heart was purged from the scepticism and doubt which de- 
 pravity engenders; and the mist and fog, with which sin clouds 
 the vision of the soul, was cleared away ; and his heart found 
 rest, and peace, and satisfaction in God. And he was enabled 
 to endure all hardships, and sacrifices, and suffering as seeing 
 Him who is invisible. Faith elevated him above the ties of 
 common life, and the enchantment of worldly possessions ; and 
 enabled him to live a life of true boldness, and self-reliance, 
 and divine dependence — a life that was God-trained, God-di- 
 rected, God-like. 
 
 2nd. The choice of faith. Moses' choice involved singular 
 self-sacrifice. His position was one of no ordinary character; 
 the only son of Pharaoh's daughter — all the honors and privi- 
 leges, and advantages of the finest earthly prospects were wait- 
 
MOSES' FAITH. 
 
 .67 
 
 rd and 
 siness, 
 rosstd 
 It faith 
 es the 
 of its 
 resent; 
 I every 
 re real 
 jxerted 
 I living 
 I's will, 
 sitating 
 a per- 
 id fear, 
 fluence 
 lieve it. 
 ►hiloso- 
 but it 
 ertain." 
 sors of 
 e upon 
 id cer- 
 They 
 But 
 ,ns, the 
 ich de- 
 clouds 
 found 
 nabled 
 seeing 
 ties of 
 s ; and 
 iliance, 
 lod-di- 
 
 ingular 
 iracter; 
 privi- 
 e wait- 
 
 ing for him — but he voluntarily renounces it at the call of duty. 
 Not, remember, that there is any nscessary opposition between 
 the present and the future. Serious evils have arisen from the 
 unscriptural notion that there is a necessary opposition between 
 the world and religion. This opinion has given rise to the ex- 
 istence of monasteries, and nunneries; and has been the excuse of 
 others for not being more spiritual and consistent ; but in truth 
 the proper claims of business and life, instead of being opposed 
 to spiritual culture, may greatly promote it. The man of toil is 
 called by that very labor to the exercise of endurance and self- 
 independence; a most essential element of Christian character. 
 The man of business has an opportunity to get an insight into 
 human nature and test his own principles. The man who labors 
 anywhere, must by that effort grow in vigor of character and 
 manliness of purpose, if he works under right principles. Any 
 thought of a necessary antagonism between the present and the 
 future is opposed to the Divine teachings, and the very end for 
 which man is placed in the world. I know there is a danger of 
 being absorbed in the present, to the exclusion of the future. 
 It is possible to become carnalized and mammonized, but this 
 is not of nccissityy but of persuasion. There are times when the 
 world stands in direct opposition to the claims of religion, then 
 the duty of separation is clear and imperative. This was the 
 situation into which Moses was brought, when at the call of 
 God, he made this noble and self-sacrificing choice, and re- 
 nounced all the advantages of his position. 
 
 Ife renounced the ties of obligation and chose, dependence. 
 There appears no room to doubt that Pharaoh's daughter had 
 always considered him and treated him as her son, and in 
 all probability he would have worn the crown of Egypt at 
 Pharaoh's death, and Egypt at that time was the greatest 
 and most powerful of kingdoms, and in all the land of Egypt 
 none could take higher rank than Moses. Treated with the 
 greatest possible consideration, filling the highest offices of the 
 state, the heir to the wealth of Pharaoh's daughter, all the ease 
 and luxury and privileges were within his reach, yet with a sub- 
 lime faith he voluntarily relinquished all the ties of obligation 
 and love, separated himself from the home and person to whom 
 he owed so much, and for whom he felt such true regard, pre- 
 ferring the path of duty to every other tie. And by this choice 
 
i68 
 
 MOSES FAITH. 
 
 I 
 
 V 
 
 1: 
 
 jl 
 
 i' 
 
 1 
 
 i ' 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 *l 
 
 ^1 
 
 he renounced the treasures of Egypt, and these treasures were 
 many and varied. There were the treasures of Wealthy for 
 it was the wealthiest land in gold and silver and precious stones. 
 There were the treasures of LUerature in exceptional abun- 
 dance, and one learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians 
 might have found great attractions there. There were the 
 treasures of Art^ and so abundant were these collections of 
 sculpture and architectural beauty that they are even now the 
 boast of the world. Nothing was beyond him except the throne 
 of Pharaoh, but, by faith, he refused to be called the son of 
 Pharaoh's daughter, and chose the sufferings of Christ rather 
 than the pleasures of sin. I am not prepared to describe the 
 special pleasures here intended. We may justly suppose that 
 they were innocent enough in themselves, and rendered sinful 
 only because duty required their relinquishment. They were 
 most likely the pleasures of wealth, and power, and science, and 
 position, and honor, and comfort. These pleasures were both 
 innocent and right till duty crossed their path. But as soon as 
 God had laid his hand on Moses and bidden him separate him- 
 self to another work his duty was clear, and to honor God was 
 his first obligation, and to delay or refuse from any other con- 
 sideration would have been sinful disobedience. But Moses 
 does not hesitate to renounce all at the call of God and go and 
 join himself to his enslaved and down-trodden brethren and 
 share their afflictions and their future with all its trials and pri- 
 vations, and perils, and persecutions. All honor to the man 
 who could become a slave while his brethren groaned beneath 
 the tyrant's lash, that he might comfort and help and deliver 
 them. 
 
 3rd, The period of choice further suggests the strength and power 
 of Moses^ faith. It was when he was come to years that his 
 faith rose to this magnificent self-denial, and heroic surrender 
 for God — the years of mature and deliberate understanding 
 and appreciation of all that he surrendered, and when he was 
 best prepared to enjoy what he gave up. So that you see the time 
 of his choice emphasizes immeasurably the strength of the faith 
 that inspired to it. It was not when he was old and incapable of 
 enjoying the world he surrendered — ^just like an old sinner 
 burned out by his pleasures, and so tries to escape to shore on 
 some broken piece of wreck — if haply he may be saved ; but 
 
MOSES' FAITH. 
 
 169 
 
 s were 
 M, for 
 stones, 
 abun- 
 yptians 
 ere the 
 ;ions of 
 now the 
 2 throne 
 : son of 
 • rather 
 ribe the 
 oie that 
 d sinful 
 ey were 
 nee, and 
 tit both 
 soon as 
 ate him- 
 :;od was 
 her con- 
 t Moses 
 dgo and 
 iren and 
 and pri- 
 le man 
 beneath 
 deliver 
 
 xdpower 
 that his 
 urrender 
 standing 
 he was 
 the time 
 the faith 
 ipable of 
 sinner 
 shore on 
 ed; but 
 
 it was in the very prime of his intellectual power, at the mo- 
 ment when the world spread all before him, like a bewitching 
 panorama, and seemed most fascinating and attractive ; then he 
 voluntarily, deliberately chose .rather Christ's riches than the 
 treasures of Egypt. It is to the young, in the very pride and 
 vigor of their manhood's life this example appeals. To you young 
 men, who have power to work and life to work in ; to you 
 whose frame is rot paralyzed, or passion fires exhausted, or 
 sun gone down ; to you who yet own life in all its fullness and 
 sparkle, and music, and power ; to you it says consecrate all 
 to God. Do not wait till famine has pinched you sore, or until 
 you are the worn out and used up pensioners on the dregs of 
 Divine bounty, or until life is all gone and you have nothing to 
 offer but chaff and husks and sin. Now, in the very morning of 
 life, let your faith, like Moses, inspire to immediate, complete, 
 and life-long service for God. Give God the best, give Him 
 all. 
 
 SECOND — THE REWARD OF FAITH. 
 
 " i^'or he had respect unto the recompense of reward." 
 Future glory, the reward of a virtuous life, is frequently ex- 
 pressed in Scripture under this designation — recompense. Not 
 that the term is to be taken in its literal signification as though 
 virtue merited future blessedness, for man's greatest service 
 could never merit God's smallest gift. But it must not be for- 
 gotten that as rewards sweeten toil, so there is something in 
 Christianity analogous to this. It helps us to see that a life of 
 future blessedness will be the fruit of present devotion and 
 service, for that follows as closely and clearly as cause and 
 effect. Thus you see that the future state will compensate us 
 for all our sacrifices, indemnify us for all losses in the service of 
 God, and give back to us in overwhelming interest, the results 
 of all we have done or suffered for God here, and it further sug- 
 gests that God takes special pleasure in man's obedience and 
 seeks in every way to encourage and promote it In speaking 
 of the reward of faith you must consider two or three distinct 
 points. 
 
 I St. It was a sure reward. Whether we shall possess it or 
 not may be a matter of grave uncertainty, because it is pos- 
 sible we may not be of the description of person to whom it is 
 promised, and falling short of the conditions and the meetness, 
 
!l 
 
 .',■ 
 
 ^ 
 if 
 
 S' 
 
 t 
 
 170 
 
 MOSES FAITH. 
 
 we may never inherit the recompense. But the reward itself is 
 certain. In this respect it bears a striking contrast with the 
 rewards of earth. The most ardent votary of the world is 
 never sure that he shall posset's an adequate reward for his toils. 
 The world often mocks her followers with delusive hopes, and 
 after unremitting labor the object pursued is as distant as ever ; 
 and at the close of a life of disappointment many are compelled 
 to confess that they have sown to the wind and reaped the 
 whirlwind. Of the many prizes the world presents before its 
 competitors not one is certain. Success depends on circum- 
 stances often beyond man's control, or the uncertainty arises 
 from the folly and competition of rivals. But how different is 
 it with the reward of faith ; the rewards of God in the heavenly 
 home. There no well meant effort shall go unacknowledged. 
 The jealousy of rivals cannot interfere where there is enough 
 for all and enough forever more. And not only the service per- 
 formed shall be remunerated, but that which it was our inten- 
 tion and desire to have performed if opportunity or means 
 allo\ ed, will be rewarded. In this world some of the most de- 
 voted and disinterested ot men, have fallen victims to the 
 caprice of others, by being made answerable for events beyond 
 their control. And often the most important services have 
 passed unobserved because performed in a humble way, or by 
 an obscure person. But the rewards of heaven are not exposed 
 to such fluctuations and uncertainties and ficklenesses. They 
 are secured by the oath, and promise, and veracity of God. 
 God hath promised, and His faithfulness and unchangeableness 
 can be depended on. As God is true, heaven is sure. 
 
 2nd. A satisfying reward. How far this feature belongs to 
 earthly rewards universal experience can attest. Instead of 
 satisfying they often inflame the desire they cannot gratify. The 
 pursuit of wealth is one of the most common and attractive ob- 
 jects sought in this life ; but no sooner has a man gained the 
 portion he sought, than he thirsts for more ; and what he previ- 
 ously esteemed wealth he now calls a common necessary, and 
 he transfers the name to ampler possessions and larger revenues. 
 Nor is fame, however high it has climbed, more satisfying. Nor 
 can a man find satisfaction in the pleasures of the world. His 
 desires often make him a prey to uneasiness, because of some 
 fancied good he has not A childish impatience of the slightest 
 
MOSES FAITH. 
 
 «7i 
 
 itself is 
 th the 
 ^orld is 
 is toils, 
 es, and 
 s ever ; 
 ipelled 
 )ed the 
 fore its 
 :ircum- 
 ^ arises 
 ;rent is 
 ;avenly 
 lodged, 
 enough 
 ice per- 
 inten- 
 means 
 nost de- 
 to the 
 [beyond 
 have 
 ^ or by 
 xposed 
 They 
 God. 
 bleness 
 
 ongs to 
 tead of 
 y. The 
 ive ob- 
 led the 
 ; previ- 
 ry, and 
 s^enues. 
 g. Nor 
 His 
 f some 
 lightest 
 
 disappointment often poisons the most sparkling cup of worldly 
 pleasure. Look at Haman, he enumerate s the various ingredi- 
 ents of a brilliant fortune, and then adds, '* All this availeth me 
 nothing while Mordecai, the Jew, is at the gate." But the re- 
 wards of heaven satisfy fully and completely. There is no de- 
 sire unmet, no wish unrealized, no expectation unfilled ; the 
 most ardent dream and hopeful outlook are abundantly satisfied 
 in the mansion of glory. Nor can any desire ever arise that 
 heaven cannot at once meet and supply ; there in the fullest 
 sense the inhabitants will hunger no more, neither thirst any 
 more. 
 
 jrd. The reiuard is eternal. Everything of this earth is short- 
 lived and passeth away, but man's soul being immortal, must 
 have possessions that do not grow old, or fade away. 
 
 Imagine an immortal being, a glorified saint, sunning and 
 basking himself in the full blessedness of heaven. Imagine his 
 mighty power waxing stronger and stronger as the field of his 
 knowledge enlarges. Imagine this glorious being rising higher 
 and higher in capacity and enjoyments until he has attained a 
 dignity and rapture that at one time seemed impossible. And 
 then, suppose a revelation suddenly made to this exalted spirit 
 that his glory and blessedness would end. That intimation 
 would paralyze his energies and incapacitate him for further 
 enjoyment. The intense delight that previously thrilled his 
 soul, the soaring and God-like conceptions that crowded upon 
 his aspiring thought would give place to doubt and fear and 
 overwhelming disappointment. All his capacities and endow- 
 ments, his love to God, and his sinless perfection, would fit him 
 for endless service and blessedness, but all this would be as 
 nothing if there was no eternal life to enjoy. But be it re- 
 membered the rewards of heaven are eternal. 1 hey fade not 
 away, they are as permanent as the eternal throne, as lasting as 
 the crown ot life, as endless as God. The river of life never 
 runs dry, across the walkers of the golden streets there shall 
 never pass the shadow of an end. Heaven's communion shall 
 never know an interval. Its light shall never dim. There the 
 inhabitants die no more, but are forever with the Lamb. 
 
 Let me entreat you by all the hopes and promises of the 
 gospel do not let this life pass without putting forth 
 your best efforts for Christ. Yet a little while and the 
 
\ 
 
 17a 
 
 MOSES FAI'lH. 
 
 I! 
 
 shadows will drape your 
 shall i)ass to the skies, 
 tain a character and lead a life 
 prospects. Look forward and 
 
 home, and if faithful you 
 
 Meanwhile seek to main- 
 
 in harmony with your future 
 
 live with the light of heaven 
 
 constantly upon your path. Let the recompense of the future 
 be a strong and impelling motive to glorify (jod in the present. 
 Let your eye be ever on the recompense and by all means 
 make your calling sure. When trials assail or sorrow over- 
 whelms, look to the recompense. When pestilence darkens 
 the dwelling, or bereavement crushes the heart, look to the 
 recompense. When slander wounds the reputation and re- 
 proach is heaped upon your name, look to the recompense. 
 When temptation seeks to corrupt or the world tries to polute, 
 look to the recompense. When discouragement damps the 
 zeal or unfaithful examples tempt to despair, look to 
 the recompense. When life is ebbing to a close and 
 you stand face to face with death, look to the recompense. It 
 will make you holier in solitude, and braver in public, mc^re 
 patient in suffering, more heroic in sacrifice. It will deliver you 
 from the insane madness of preferring the present to the future, 
 this world to eternity, and lead you to look forward by faith to 
 the home and reward of everlasting life. 
 
SERMON VII. 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN'S LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 ** For me to live w Chri»t, and to die is gain.*' — Phii.., i, 21, 
 
 'T is pleasing to see the calmness and self-possession with 
 which the Christian meets the afflictions and storms of 
 life. Rising in the consciousness of mental or moral 
 heroism, he grasps a higher reality and pours out his soul 
 in the conquests of faith. Such, precisely, was the experience 
 of Paul. There appears no sense of bondage in his soul, al- 
 though at this time he was a prisoner. He possessed a freedom 
 which dungeons cannot crush — that inner freedom which is as 
 chainless as the air we breathe, living in the experience of a far- 
 sighted trust and a sublime faith. A very tender relationship 
 existed between Paul and the Philippian Church. They had 
 sent Epaphroditus to visit him in the prison it Rome, and to 
 administer of their liberality to his need, and in return for their 
 kindness and as a token of his affection he addressed to them this 
 Epistle. It is remarkable that it contains no solitary word of 
 rebuke. It recognizes in them the existence of a grateful and 
 earnest piety, and aims at their consolation and confirmation. 
 The spirit of the Apostle was also well calculated to produce 
 the same result. It would have been very pardonable if, under 
 the circumstances, he had betrayed bitterness, or at least sad- 
 ness ; but his letter, on the contrary, is a fountain of joy, an in- 
 spiration of courage. He was calm, meek, Christian — not so 
 much from logical deductions as from moral intuitions. 
 
 FIRST — THE christian's LIFE. 
 
 '* For me to live is Christ" The Apostle sets out, thrilled 
 with a deep and absorbing fact — the fact of conscious life : 
 
 i 
 
 li 
 
174 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN S LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 *' For me to live.'" He felt, he knew he lived. Christi'nity is 
 life and life-giving. It is not a theory or philosophy of living, 
 merely ; but life itself. It includes the inspiration, the rule, the 
 end of life, and the Apostle, shrining this Divine principle 
 within him, felt the true pulse of being ; and every true be- 
 liever, conscious of the Divine within him, can say: '^ /live T 
 Other men don't live ; they exist, but not live. There is a vast 
 difference in existence and life. Life is far superior to exist- 
 ence. Existence was given us that we might rise into life, and 
 it is only faith in Jesus will raise us to the dignity and power 
 and sublimity of life. Only in Him is the whole man flooded 
 with the rpture of being and stirred with a life that dies not. 
 
 jst. Christ is the Source of the believer's life. To create, to 
 produce life at first, or to infuse life into the dead, is the ex- 
 clusive prerogative of God. Man has done his best to create ; 
 the painter has spread his canvas, and with the pencil's witchery 
 portrayed the image of your friends, and after those friends have 
 passed away, that life-like painting has often called up the forms 
 of the departed, and in all the passion of agonized affection you 
 have sighed : *' Oh, that those lips could sp>'ak !" but there was 
 no response. And the sculptor has taken the shapeless block 
 and chiselled upon it the features of the human face, and the 
 proportion has been apparent, the attitude graceful, and the 
 figure true to nature ; but though the eye reposed in beauty, 
 there was no flash of fire ; though the cheek was well-formed, 
 it had no mantling blush of health ; though the lips were well- 
 shaped, they could never speak to thrill the soul ; so that, while 
 you admired the artist's skill, you were forced to remember that 
 life is the gift of God. All life is from Him originally. Natural 
 life is of Him. We eat and drink and pursue our calling^ and 
 pleasures too often without thinking of the power which gave 
 us life and sustains and upholds that life every moment. We 
 find ourselves in being, and think our pulse should beat and 
 our affections should glow, without thinking that in Him we live 
 and move and have our being. Mental life is also from God. 
 Our minds are busy seeking to grasp the many subjects which 
 come before us. We form plans, penetrate mysteries, solve 
 problems, without thinking of Him who gave us the capabilities 
 of mind. We ascribe the glory to education or study. I will 
 not underrate these ; they are essentials of success ; but what 
 
 !i 
 
 \ 
 
IHE christian's MFE AND DEATH. 
 
 »75 
 
 timity is 
 of living, 
 rule, the 
 principle 
 true be- 
 ' I liver 
 is a vast 
 to exist- 
 life, and 
 fid power 
 1 flooded 
 es not. 
 create, to 
 is the ex- 
 o create ; 
 5 witcV.ery 
 snds have 
 the forms 
 iction you 
 there was 
 less block 
 and the 
 , and the 
 n beauty, 
 ll-formed, 
 vere well- 
 hat, while 
 mber that 
 Natural 
 ling^ and 
 ich gave 
 nt. We 
 beat and 
 m we live 
 om God. 
 lets which 
 ies, solve 
 pabilities 
 I will 
 Ibut what 
 
 would all be if God had not given us our faculties ? Spiritual 
 life^ which the believer alone possesses in its grandest hopes, 
 loftiest prospects, rnd sublimest nature, is the exclusive produc- 
 tion of the Divine. Man's moral depravity is too self-evident to 
 be disproved. Universal history, universal consciousness, uni- 
 versal experience, testify to the moral death of man. So irre- 
 sistible is the fact and so general is the admission, that scheme 
 after scheme has been produced for his recovery, and yet, after 
 all the light and glory flung upon it by civilization and science 
 and education, the world continues as depraved as ever, and 
 nothing can effect a saving change in man's condition but a vital 
 union with Christ. If we live at all, it must be by imparted life 
 — life drafted into us from above. 
 
 2nd. Christ is the Model of his life. The power of imitation 
 exists in man, and according to the model presented, is the 
 being shaped. Robert Hall truly remarked that ever>' man has 
 a picture gallery of his own, in which are hung the likenesses of 
 those he has known and admired, and every man has his own 
 model of imitation. The warrior adopts Wellington, the painter 
 — Angelo, the adventurer — Columbus, the patriot — Washing- 
 ton, the mechanic — Arkwright, the philosopher — Newton, the 
 logician — Locke, the poet — Milton, the orator^— Demosthenes, 
 the historian — Macaulay. the philanthropist— Howard, the Re- 
 former — Luther, the Christian — Christ. The Christian life is 
 life in the image of Jesus. Likeness reveals relation ; the seed 
 produces its own copy. The parent is seen in the child ; the 
 family declares its ancestry ; the life of a Christian reproduces 
 Christ. Our greatest naturalists tell us that the leaf and the 
 branch are miniatures of the tree to which they belong, and act 
 out its form to angular exactness. In like manner, the mem- 
 bers of Christ's body are miniatures of Himself Christ says : 
 " I am the vine : ye are the branches." They have the same 
 root, the same stem, the same sap, the same foliage, the same 
 fruit ; for the same spirit pervades them, the same graces adorn 
 them, and the same glory awaits them. It is Christ's spirit 
 which develops the believer after the approved pattern. Christ 
 is in that Divine artist's eye when He draws the believer's por- 
 trait The Christian's desire is moral resemblance to Christ, 
 though the perfect image is not developed at once. There is a 
 struggle in the transformation, and Christlikeness is a progres- 
 
li 
 
 ; I 
 
 
 H 
 
 176 
 
 THE christian's LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 sive growth ; but sooner or later, in a lower or higher degree, 
 the believer shall be made complete in Him, and this is the 
 highest dignity of the soul. As the love of holiness glows in 
 the centre of the heart, corruption is consumed, as the farmer 
 burns the weeds upon the soil that gave them birth. Transfor- 
 mation into the likeness of Jesus is the great end of redemption, 
 the one purpose of grace, and the characteristic glory of salva- 
 tion. The more like Christ, the more lovely the soul. It is na 
 wonder that the Apostolic ideal of all perfection, all honor, all 
 glory, all blessedness, is this — Like Him. 
 
 3rd. Christ is the Oi^'E.ci of the beiiei'gf^s life. It is emphati- 
 cally life for Christ. The believer's life has been redeemed and 
 endowed with spiritual gifts, that it might be spent in Christ's 
 service. It was not merely for existence or character or privi- 
 lege that this life was imparted, but for active labor for Christ. 
 The Divine life must be spent in the Divine service. Every 
 man who really lives has an object in life. The student lives 
 for learning, the ambitious for fame, the worldling for riches, 
 the tourist for travel, the statesman for power, the gay for 
 fashion, the merchant for commerce, the Christian for Christ. 
 Every man has a life purpose in life which inspires with resolu- 
 tion and endurance. Every man also exists for others. This 
 is the one law of social, political, scientific and Christian life. 
 The Redeemer's — the highest life ever lived in this world — was- 
 spent for others, and we should, like Him, live for the Divine 
 glory, for such a life-purpose, perseveringly fulfilled, would 
 make us all nobler, diviner. True greatness is devotedness to 
 Jesus. Let us ever aim to serve our fellows and bring glory to 
 God. Let us make our life real by setting before us an object 
 worthy of ourselves and the being God has given us ; for you 
 have something more to do with life than simply to toil for 
 bread and clothing and home, more than to eat and drink and 
 die, more than to cultivate the mind, enjoy society,and exercise 
 rights. Life must have a right object to fulfil its high commis- 
 sion. There are various ways of occupying it — of wasting its 
 opportunities, and consuming its powers ; but there is only one 
 way of devoting it to its Divine end. It is a serious thing to 
 live, and it is of eternal moment what we live for and how we 
 spend our one life, God's glory is the true end of man, and 
 
degree, 
 5 is the 
 ;lows in 
 farmer 
 'ransfor- 
 imption, 
 3f salva- 
 It is no 
 DHor, all 
 
 jmphati- 
 ned and 
 Christ's 
 or privi- 
 r Christ. 
 Every 
 nt lives 
 r riches, 
 gay for 
 ■ Christ, 
 resolu- 
 This 
 tian life. 
 Id — was^ 
 Divine 
 would 
 Idness to 
 ta 
 object 
 for you 
 toil for 
 link and 
 jxercise 
 tommis- 
 sting its 
 )nly one 
 |:hing to 
 low we 
 in. and 
 
 glory 
 
 THE christian's LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 177 
 
 not to seek it is a perversion of being and a sacrilegious robbery 
 of God. 
 
 SECOND — THE CHRISTIAN'S DEATH. 
 
 ''To die is gain." 
 
 There is something peculiarly Christian 
 in such a view of death, for death, viewed in itself, is appalling. 
 It is so unnatural, so distressing, that our nature abhors it. 
 None of us should ever choose to die simply for the sake of 
 dying. For, 
 
 " Come in whatever form, ! Death, — 
 
 And thou art terrible, — the tear, the groan, the knell, 
 
 The pall, the bier, and all we know or dream 
 
 Or fear of agony, is thine." 
 
 It is because of its issues that good men love to die ; be- 
 cause there is another life beyond the grave, an eternal life with 
 Jesus. It was this view of dying that drew from John Foster 
 the eloquent remark: "What a superlatively grand and consol- 
 ing idea is that of death ! Without this radiant idea, this de- 
 lightful star, indicating that the luminary of eternity was about 
 to rise, life in my opinion would darken into midnight melan- 
 choly. O ! the expectation of living here and living thus always, 
 would be a prospect of overwhelming despair ; but thanks to 
 that decree that dooms us to die, thanks to that gospel which 
 opens a vision of endless life, and thanks above all to that 
 Saviour who has promised to conduct the faithful through 
 death to the Paradise beyond ; the sick room of the dying 
 believer is on the threshold of heaven." Sublime is such a 
 view of death. How sweet to lie down in death with all the 
 consciousness of imperfection which accompanies the most 
 holy in this life ! For such a sinful creature thus to lie down 
 in the cradle of the dying body, rocked to sleep by a Saviour's 
 love, and then to wake up in the light and perfection and ocean 
 splendor of glory, — O ! if this be dying, to die is infinite, infinite 
 gain. And this is the view which the Apostle wishes us to 
 take — to think oi what death is, of what death does ; of its 
 losses, of its gains, and then pronounce an impartial verdict. 
 
 1st, Death remotes us frotn the Bible. The Bible is a blessed 
 book, God's Word, His kindest utterance to the world. What 
 light is shed upon the mind, whai blessings it conveys to the 
 heart, how divine is its authority, how quickening its influence ! 
 
 ii 
 
1 if 
 
 178 
 
 THE christian's LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 It 
 
 ' 
 
 
 r " 
 
 There is nothing like it. It is a peer in the realms of literature. 
 It informs us of God — unveiling His character, revealing His 
 glory, and disclosing the thoughts of His heart. It shows us 
 ourselves, tellinp; us whence we came, what we are, and what 
 will be our destiny. It presents to us the adorable Redeemer, 
 befriending the world and restoring to it its forfeited blessings. 
 Itbiings near an influence, powerful to renew and enlighten 
 the moral man. Its histories are destined to instruct us, 
 its prophecies to confirm, its devotions to quicken, its promises 
 to comfort, and its doctrines to command our unhesitating 
 faith. The salvation it announces is most glorious, the bless- 
 ings it reveals are inestimable, its prospects are resplendent 
 with glory. Myriads have been guided by it into all truth, the 
 ignorant have been enlightened, the diffident emboldened, the 
 perplexed relieved, the afflicted comforted, the dying cheered. 
 In every circumstance of liie it is the helper of the helpless, 
 the comforter of the comfortless,the friend of the friendless, and 
 the saviour of all them that be'ieve. It is a book of wonders. 
 It is to the believer emphatically a well of living water, bread of 
 enduring substance, a star of boundless radiance, a sun to guide 
 him to heaven. I don't wonder that Dr. Leifchild exclaimed 
 in dying : "Oh, blessed Bible, I should like to die with thee in 
 my arms !" Every good man, in bidding the Bible an eternal 
 farewell, feels a sorrow at parting ; but O ! in heaven we shall 
 study in the light of eternity, in the effulgence of its own 
 divinity, those great truths which the Bible only imperfectly 
 reveals. There we shall sit at the feet of Jesus with a gushing 
 flood-tide of light ever streaming on the soul. Therefore, to die 
 is gain. 
 
 2Nd. Death removes us from the sanctuary and ptayer^ and 
 all our labor in the cause of Christ ; but to the upper temple^ to 
 purer devotion and service. 
 
 jrd. Death removes us from all our friends. There is some- 
 thing very binding and endearing in the ties which unite us 
 together on earth. There is something which stirs the soul with 
 sublime emotion in the unions of father, mother,husband, wife, 
 brother, sister, friend. There is far more in these endearing 
 names than language can express. Words are too poor to tell 
 v;hat the heart may feel, but at death these ties are broken. 
 Natural affection does not survive the grave. Moral ties are 
 
IHE christian's LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 179 
 
 terature. 
 ng His 
 lows us 
 td what 
 ideemer, 
 lessings. 
 nlighten 
 met us, 
 promises 
 esitating 
 e bless- 
 plendent 
 ruth, the 
 ned, the 
 cheered, 
 helpless, 
 less, and 
 wonders, 
 bread of 
 to guide 
 Kclaimed 
 1 thee in 
 1 eternal 
 ive shall 
 
 its own 
 perfectly 
 
 gushing 
 e, to die 
 
 lygry and 
 emple, to 
 
 is some- 
 unite us 
 oul with 
 nd, wife, 
 ndearing 
 3r to teU 
 I broken, 
 ties are 
 
 imperishable, and the souls that are bound by them may be 
 parted, but can never be separated ; but natural ties, as such, 
 die at death, so that, to the best of Christians, death is a re- 
 moval from the bosom of the family. It makes the most 
 beautiful form become a loathsome corpse, which even its 
 friends bury out of sight. And tell me, if you can, the power 
 of bereaved affection when the eye is closed in vacancy and the 
 cheek pale in death. Tell me, if you dare invade the secret 
 temple of the soul, the feeling of the heart when it is first 
 widowed, and the long, lone wail of agonized sorrow is heard, 
 telling you that to die is p linful parting. But still, to die is 
 gain ; for although death removes us from our friends on earth, 
 it introduces us to our friends in heaven, there to enjoy the 
 communion of saints, there, as a part of God's great family, to 
 hold intercourse with those who have gone before. The glori- 
 fied spirits before the throne shall know, and love and enjoy 
 each other there. And not only does death introduce the 
 believer to the spirits of just men made perfect and all the 
 angelic hosts of heaven, and so enlarge our circle of friends ; 
 but it reunites to departed worth forever. 
 
 4th. Death removes us fom all that is evil and introduces us 
 to all that is good. It removes us from earth and all that is 
 earthly, and gives u heaven and all that is heavenly. It de- 
 livers from misery and gives us ease, from pain and gives us 
 pleasure, from sorrow and gives us joy, from anxiety and gives 
 us rest,from storm and gives us calm, from distraction and gives 
 us peace, from pollution and gives us purity, from ignorance and 
 gives us wisdom, from peril and gives us safety, from doubt and 
 gives us certainty, from slavery ?,nd gives us freedom, from 
 warfare and gives us victory, from conflict and gives us corona- 
 tion, from death and gives us life, from man and gives us God. 
 O ! at death it is not joy in us that dies, but sorrow ; not purity, 
 but sin ; not energeis but weakness ; not fellowship, but frailty ; 
 not communion but distance ; not glory, but shame ; not love, 
 but hatred; not life, but death. It is not the Christian or 
 Christianity, but death itself that dies. How sublime, how God- 
 like, to conquer death by dying, to slay the monster by his own 
 weapons, or receive him as a friendly horse to a jaded traveller, 
 and on him ride home to glory, singing as we pass the vale : 
 
ii 
 
 BEO 
 
 1 80 
 
 THE CHRISTIANS LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 *' Death is the crown of life. 
 Were death denied, poor man would live in vain ; 
 Were death denied, to live would not be life ; 
 Were death denied, even fools would wish to die. 
 Death wounds to cure — we fall, we rise, we reign. 
 The king of terrors is the prince of peace." 
 
 Can you say, " For me to live is Christ ?" If not, without 
 presumption, without solemn mockery, you cannot say, "To 
 die is gain." It is only as we live in Christ w^e can die to Him. 
 To die without Christ is endiess, endless hss. Then, I beseech 
 you, come to Christ at once and live. When you are welcome 
 to a Father's home and a Father's heart, will you not come ? 
 When you are invited to full forgiveness by a loving Saviour, 
 will you not come ? When you are invited to sanctified man- 
 hood by an Eternal Spirit, will you not come ? The altar has 
 been raised and the sacrifice found ; lay your sins on it now. 
 Believe me, the remedy you are urged to accept is simple and 
 saving, and the voice that woos you is full of love and tender- 
 ness, and you may at this moment believe and enter into life. 
 
 ri:l 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 r 
 
 i 
 
 1' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 \ • 
 
 
 ' . 
 
SERMON Vin. 
 
 without 
 y, "To 
 :o Him. 
 jeseech 
 elcome 
 come ? 
 Javiour, 
 d man- 
 tar has 
 it now. 
 Die and 
 tender- 
 ito life. 
 
 ■ 
 
 THE NATURE AND DUTY OF GIVING. 
 
 *• Not became I desire a gift : hut I desire fruit that may abound to your 
 account."— FiiiL. iv. 17. 
 
 DISINTERESTED spirit enters far more largely into 
 the work of the Christian ministry than many persons 
 suppose. And when the minister has to deal with the 
 most uncongenial subjects, it is often the most promi- 
 nently displayed ; though we are aware that some entertain a 
 contrary view of the ministerial work and spirit, regarding it as 
 selfish and self-loving, and thus rob its appeals of their point 
 and power and persuasiveness, and so by disbelief ward off what 
 by argument they could never gainsay. Still we claim that every 
 true gospel minister may honestly adopt the motto of the 
 Apostle, " Not because I desire a gift." Perhaps a sermon on 
 the nature and duty of giving is about the last where many will 
 recognize the presence of a disinterested soul, and yet it is pos- 
 sibly the one in which the minister will truly manifest the most 
 of that feeling. I cannot conceive of a faithful minister of 
 Christ Jesus standing in the sacred desk to talk and plead for 
 self but rather to declare what he believes to be "the whole counsel 
 of God," and what hv judges to be calculated to^instruct and pro- 
 fit and bless those who hear him. The subject before us is not 
 the most popmai.oecause the Churches of this day have not an 
 enlarged measure of that feeling which animated the Apostolic 
 Church, when believers sold their possessions and laid them at 
 the Apostles' feet. But notwithstanding its unpopularity, let us 
 spend a little time together considering the plan, and duty, and 
 motives of Christian giving. We will not indulge in eulogistic 
 
l82 
 
 THE NATURE AND DUTY OK GIVING. 
 
 It 
 
 1 1 
 
 !k 
 
 descriptions or pauperizing appeals by setting forth instances of 
 magnificent generosity, or portraying scenes of privation and 
 poverty. Setting aside all individual considerations, let us look 
 at the broad and inclusive principle presented in this singularly 
 appropriate text of Scripture. 
 
 FIRST — LET us LOOK AT THE NATURE OK CHRISTL\N GIVING. 
 
 We are pained to believe that the Church of Christ is very 
 deficient on this point of duty, probably arising either from error 
 or ignorance or both combined, and in consequence the cause 
 of the gospel suffers materially. I know this remark could be 
 met by the enumeration of a noble host whose contributions 
 are on a large scale, and of the equally noble generosity of many 
 whose smaller gifts are the cheerful fruit of privation and self- 
 denial. But we speak not now of an individual or a Church, but 
 to the whole Church, and therefore look at the evil in principle 
 and in its widest possible application. I need scarcely say that 
 we repudiate State endowments, and fervently hope that the 
 day is not distant when this vestige of the dark ages — this un- 
 holy compromise shall be swept away from every part of the 
 earth before an enlightened public opinion, and a free and 
 growing state of spirituality and power in the Churches, so that 
 religion may stand forth as free and unfettered as when her 
 Divine Master ushered her into the world under Apostolic 
 preaching and precept. For there is, or at least should be, al- 
 ways sufficient vitality and grace in the Christian Church for 
 self-independent support. 
 
 isi. Christian giving should be done systematically. There 
 is, perhaps, nothing which man is capable of doing which 
 could not be done better by conforming to some system. 
 There is a sort of person who has a detestation of all method 
 and rule and fixity, but you seldom find him to prosper. He 
 who insists so strongly on the spontaneousness of devotion 
 that he will not attend public worship because of its weekly 
 occurrence, nor establish a family altar because it prescribes 
 duties to be observed every day, nor sanction grace before 
 meals because it formalizes gratitude, is apt to have 'very little 
 devotion or reverence of any kind. Method is good, even in 
 the modes of the mind and the habits of daily intercourse. No 
 doubt rule and method may be carried too far. There is a 
 
THE NATURE AND DUTY OF GIVING. 
 
 183 
 
 ices of 
 n and 
 IS look 
 jularly 
 
 ING. 
 
 is very 
 n error 
 I cause 
 uld be 
 )utions 
 fmany 
 id self- 
 ch, but 
 inciple 
 ay that 
 lat the 
 his un- 
 of the 
 :e and 
 \o that 
 len her 
 ostulic 
 be, al- 
 rch for 
 
 There 
 
 which 
 
 ystem. 
 
 nethod 
 
 •. He 
 
 votion 
 
 weekly 
 
 scribes 
 
 before 
 
 y little 
 
 /en in 
 
 se. No 
 
 is a 
 
 wild, inimitable sweetness in changefulness and spontaneous- 
 ness. The rill, so tiny in June, would loose its interest if it 
 did not swell into a torrent in the Spring, and the morning 
 bird, if it sang all the year round at the same hour, would have 
 little more melody than the cry of a sweep. Spontaneousness 
 is good, order is good, and the two are most exquisitely com- 
 bined throughout nature, and their union, if rightly managed, 
 is productive of efficiency and pleasantnesss in human affairs. 
 At first sight it <night appear that benevolence is one of those 
 things from which all form and method should be eliminated. 
 We grant that the motive of benevolence should always be spon- 
 taneous — an unconstrained delight in doing good, a generous 
 impulse from an unselfish heart ; but the manner of giving may 
 be most advantageously systematized, and there is no province 
 of human activity into which it is more necessary to introduce 
 system than into that of Christian giving. If you consider the 
 vast interests and agencies which depend upon the liberality of 
 the Christian community, you will see the force of our remark. 
 We do not dwell upon the importance, which eternity alone 
 can measure, of maintaining the agents and ordinances of re- 
 ligion in every land, but take the matter on its man-ward every- 
 day side. How many thousands of ministers, of missionaries, 
 of true Christian workers are now dependent for subsistence 
 upon the benevolence of the Churches. And there is a terrible 
 regularity in the daily recurrence of the wants of these multi- 
 tudes which cannot be efliectually met by occasional and spas- 
 modic liberality. The wants can be adequately, honorably, 
 safely supplied only in one way — by systematic giving. But the 
 support of evangelistic agencies is only one of many demands 
 made upon Christian benevolence in this day. Hospitals, 
 asylums, orphanages, which constitute the glory of our age and 
 humanity, are dependent upon public liberality, and it is essen- 
 tial that all these institutions should obtain their supplies with 
 regularity, because, by possessing an ample, assured, calculable 
 income, the operations and activtity of these institutions may 
 be more successfully promoted. If the supplies are irregular, 
 the cause is placed in a position of uncertainty and anxiety. 
 And in addition to the immense advantage that would accrue 
 to the aggregate Christian agencies from systematic contribu- 
 *:ion, we conceive that giving after that manner, being more 
 
1 84 
 
 THi: NATURF, AND DUTY OF CI VI NO. 
 
 f I 
 
 calm, rational, principled, and Scriptural, is more acceptable to 
 God and honorable to the giver. Then, we urge you, have a 
 distinct, well defined system, and to it strictly and everywhere 
 adhere. 
 
 2nd. Chriiiian t^h'ing sJiould be proportionate. That there are 
 great defects \\\ the charity of the Christian Church, notwith- 
 standing the indications of improvement uhich appear, is too 
 manifest. It waits for impulse and appeal ; it lacks plan and 
 principle and self-denial and proportion. It is by no means 
 equal to the demands of the gospel, or the wealth of the 
 Christian Church. The great current of Christian property is 
 not yet withdrawn from its worldly channels. The scanty rills 
 of benevolence which at present water the garden of the Lord, 
 and the ingenuity and effort employed to bring them there, 
 compared with the tide of selfish expenditure which holds on 
 its original course, reminds one of the slender rivulets which 
 the inhabitants of the East raise from a river by mechanical 
 force to irrigate their thirsty gardens, while the mighty current, 
 without any sensible diminution of its waters, goes sweeping on 
 to the ocean. By unwearied diligence the art of acquiring 
 money is well nigh perfect. Nor can we think of the many 
 ways in which it is squandered or consumed upon artificial 
 wants, without deploring that the art of wasting money should 
 be so complete. But the art of using it so as to make it pro- 
 duce the greatest amount of good still remains to be practiced. 
 This, indeed, the gospel alone can teach. In the early ages of 
 the Church the heavenly art of enbalming property was both 
 known and practiced ; but, like the process of another embalm- 
 ing, it has long been practically lost. Not that its principles 
 have been unknown ; these have always presented themselves 
 on the pages of truth in lines of living light. Consequently, now, 
 when the applications of its principle is pointed out, and the 
 urgent necessity or their practical expression enforced, we 
 begin to feel how far the Church has drifted from the course 
 of duty, and how difficult it will be to effect a return. And, 
 indeed, return never will be^accomplished until we go back 
 10 the oracles of God and conform thereto, renouncing the 
 godless idea of many that property is irresponsibly our own, 
 and feel that we hold our possessions as subordinate agents for 
 God, and that we are bound to consult His will in the use of it. 
 
 I 
 
 iii 
 
THK NATURK AND DUTY OK GIVING. 
 
 185 
 
 ible to 
 lave a 
 ^where 
 
 ere are 
 otwith- 
 , is too 
 Ian and 
 means 
 of the 
 perty is 
 nty nils 
 e Lord, 
 1 there, 
 olds on 
 s which 
 chanical 
 current, 
 jping on 
 cquiring 
 ^e many 
 artificial 
 y should 
 it pro- 
 racticed. 
 ages of 
 as both 
 embalm- 
 rinciples 
 mselves 
 ly, now, 
 and the 
 ced, v»e 
 ; course 
 . And, 
 go back 
 cing the 
 ur own, 
 gents for 
 use of it. 
 
 That as He is the supreme owner of both it and us, we are as 
 bound to mark the Divine directions in the use of our money 
 as in the salvation of our souls ; and the moment we consult 
 the Divine Word a plan is presented to us at once, clear, simple, 
 perfect : *' Upon the first day of the week let every one of you 
 lay by him in store, and give as God has prospered." In this 
 beautiful rule of Christian finance you see that there should be 
 a proper prjportion between income and gift. Upon the first day 
 (God's own day) ' ith undeviating regularity, all should give as 
 God hath prospered them. The Lord sits over against the trea- 
 sury, and giving is a sacred matter between Him and you. De- 
 termine on the proportion before God and as in the sight of 
 God, which should never be less in principle than what is in- 
 ferable from the standard and examples of Holy Scripture, 
 which would be at least one-tenth. And having determined the 
 proportion, pay it regularly and cheerfully over to God. The 
 beauty of this rule of proportion is, that it burdens none and 
 puts the same honor upon all; for all give, and no one, in God's 
 eye, gives more than another ; for each one consecrates to God 
 an amount in exact proportion to what God has sent him. Giv- 
 ing, too, in proportion to benefits received, secures the opera- 
 tion on sound, religious principles. The giver is not excited by 
 the unhealthy stimulus of worldly rivalry by giving so much that 
 he may not appear a worse man than his neighbor, but, called 
 to listen to the voice of truth, be gives as in the sight of God, 
 and the deed is, therefore, an act of Christian ser\'ice, springing 
 from Scriptural motive, and taking its position on the same holy 
 ground as prayer and praise. When this rule (which is as 
 applicable to the widow's mite as the rich man's thousands) is 
 uniformly adopted by the Christian Church, there will be no 
 more complaining in our streets or pause in the great work of 
 Christian aggression, for all that is needed for every Christian 
 purpose will be readily forthcoming. 
 
 3rd. Christian givinti should be regarded as a plain and pre- 
 scribed duty. The fewest thoughts will render this duty obvious 
 to all. Just think who it is enables you to give. Moses very 
 correctly expressed it : " The Lord thy God, He it is that giveth 
 thee power to get wealth." God gives us all things; strictly and 
 truly, He is the only donor in the universe. He gives us posses- 
 sions, or the opportunities to get them. It is He who gives us 
 

 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 1.25 
 
 |iO "^^ RR^H 
 
 ■^ IM 12.2 
 
 us 
 
 US 
 
 u 
 
 U 11.6 
 
 V/ 
 
 
 Hiotographic 
 
 Sdences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 33 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14530 
 
 (716) S72-4S03 
 
 
 
 "^^ 
 

1 86 
 
 THE NATURE AND DUTY OF GIVING. 
 
 i» 
 
 i I 
 
 I; i 
 
 health and success and comforts, and makes our ventures suc- 
 cessful and our business prosperous. " Every good and perfect 
 gift cometh down from above." If God did not give, 
 and continue to give, the brooks would soon dry, and 
 the rain soon cease, and the sunshine soon fail, and 
 the flowers soon fade, and the forest soon decay, and the 
 earth soon be barren, and want and ruin become universal. 
 Now, He who hath loaded you with benefits commands you to 
 give j^«f^^ of your substance to Him. The possessions which 
 He hath given you in stewardship, and for the right use of 
 which He holds you responsible, you are to consecrate to His 
 work and cause, and you cannot withhold from God what He 
 hath instructed you to give, without contempt of duty, and sin. 
 
 4/h. Christian giving is an honored privilege. Giving is a 
 work most people perform as economically as possible, and too 
 many regret the necessity of having to give at all. They rarely 
 think that each should do something, and all do what they can, 
 and having done their utmost, it should be considered a privi- 
 lege. Is it not a privilege rather than an irksome toil to feed a 
 starving man, or to rescue a drowning man, or to reclaim a 
 fallen man, or to befriend a destitute man, or to bless a ruined 
 man, or to save a dying man ? And is it not a privilege, sur- 
 passing far, to aid the cause of truth, swell the trophies of the 
 cross, accelerate the spread of the gospel, feed famishing mil- 
 lions, heal the world's curse, and raise the withered arm of 
 paralyzed humanity to its healing Saviour ? Such being the ob- 
 ject of Christian benevolence, to give to it should be regarded 
 as a precious privilege ; not an opportunity to be allowed to 
 pass by giving the barest trifle in a grudging spirit, but an op- 
 portunity we should eagerly embrace and always improve. And 
 such should be our conviction of privilege that if no appeal was 
 made to us we should voluntarily present our oflerings to the 
 Lord, and, if necessary, seek out the most worthy and deserving 
 objects to relieve and assist. Giving in this day should be re- 
 garded as it was by the Macedonian believers when they be- 
 sought Paul, with much entreaty, to accept their gifts. 
 Second — The fruit or reward of Christian Liberality. 
 
 1st The Divine approval and promise. The eye of God 
 marks intently our gifts for Him. He it is who sends the ap- 
 plicant to you. He notices with what feelings you receive the 
 

 THE NATURE AND DUTV OF GIVING. 
 
 187 
 
 tures suc- 
 id perfect 
 not give, 
 dry, and 
 fail, and 
 and the 
 universal, 
 ids you to 
 ons which 
 ht use of 
 ate to His 
 1 what He 
 yr, and sin. 
 riving is a 
 e, and too 
 'hey rarely 
 Lt they can, 
 ed a privi- 
 il to feed a 
 reclaim a 
 s a ruined 
 vileee, sur- 
 \if;s ol the 
 lishing mii- 
 ed arm of 
 jing the ob- 
 »e regarded 
 allowed to 
 but an op- 
 )rove. And 
 appeal was 
 ngs to the 
 d deserving 
 ouldbe re- 
 n they be- 
 ts. 
 
 BERALITV. 
 
 ye of God 
 nds the ap- 
 receive the 
 
 application, and He observes the motives and rules by which 
 you contribute. He who had His eye on the poor widow, 
 casting in her mite into the treasury of the temple, has His eye 
 on your heart, your property, your gifts to-day. And it is no 
 wonder if that eye flashes with displeasure when some of His 
 professed followers cast in their donations, seeing that there is 
 such a disproportion between the profession and the gift. And 
 in giving there has been a willful forgetfulness of the fact that 
 they are accountable for all they possess and how they possessed 
 it ; for all they spend and how they spend it ; for all they give 
 and how they give it ; for all they keep and why they keep it 
 And the Lord wishes all His children to be like Himself, to 
 give to him that needeth. He hates covetousness, He dispises 
 the niggardly, He abhors the selfish ; therefore he cannot 
 approve of the illiberal man. But it is stated : " The Lord 
 loveth a cheerful giver," " The liberal soul shall be made fat," 
 " The liberal soul deviseth liberal things, and by libera) things 
 shall he stand," ** Give and it shall be given unto you ; go<xi 
 measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over," 
 " Whosoever shall give a cup of cold water to a disciple, in the 
 name of a disciple, shall not lose his reward." It is because 
 we sow sparingly that we reap sparingly ; it is beeause we give 
 so little that we have so little enjoyment over what we keep 
 back. The Lord not only blesses what we give, when given 
 aright, but He blesses what we keep also, and everything is to 
 us just what God makes it. If, therefore, we withhold what 
 we ought to give, we shall find that he that loveth silver shall 
 not be satisfied with silver, nor he that loveth gold with in- 
 crease. The love of money will pierce its possessor with 
 many sorrows. If you lay by what you ought to lay out, God's 
 curse must be upon it. And it may be as fuel for your chil- 
 dren's lusts, a temptation to allure them into paths of sin and 
 ruin ; it is better to give to God's needy ones, and live under 
 the smile of God, than to withhold with the barn full but the 
 soul empty; with wealth increasing, and the soul starving, 
 until at last it shall be said : " Thou fool, this night thy soul 
 shall be required of the." 
 
 2nii. Soul satisfaction. It is universally true that it is more 
 blessed to give than to receive. There is a felt satisfaction at 
 the consciousness of duty performed, whilst there is a corres 
 
■n 
 
 138 
 
 THE NATURE AND DUTY OF GIVING. 
 
 IV 
 
 i : 
 
 ponding misanthropy felt by those who evade God's tribute 
 money ', and there is not only an individual satisfaction, but 
 also the enjoyment of doing good and the reciprocity of feel- 
 ing which generosity always evokes. Wherever we have given, 
 there will be a return of benefits conferred ; wherever we have 
 blessed others, we shall be blessed also ; wherever we have 
 rayed out joy and sunshine, a reflected sunbeam will rest upon 
 us ; wherever we have made the desert to rejoice or the barren 
 waste fruitful or the thirsty land pools of water, we shall reap a 
 glorious return. If we have fed the hungry or clothed the 
 naked or delivered the poor and needy when he crieth, the 
 blessing of him that was ready to perish will come upon us. 
 There is a subdued and hallowed pleasure in helping and bless- 
 ing men, and in furthering the cause of God and the objects of 
 Christian benevolence throughout the world. 
 
 3rd. There will be eternal fruit in the world to come. How 
 vast and varied and full the fruit will be in the gathering times 
 of heaven ! How abundant the harvest will be in the grand 
 harvest-home, we cannot say ; but we are assured that not a 
 cup of cold water shall lose its reward. Oh, what sublime re- 
 miniscences will be those of the man who nobly and generous- 
 ly used his stewardship for the Divine glory ! Rich visions of 
 rescued souls, of reared churches, of ministerial helpings, of 
 timely deliverances ! A widow's heart gladdened, an orphan 
 clothed and comforted, a school sustained, a missionary assisted. 
 Bibles circulated, tracts scattered broadcast,nations enlightened, 
 despotisms dethroned, iniquities brought to a perpetual end, 
 perishing ones plucked as a brand from the burning, fainting 
 ones cheered on their way, beggars made to sit at the bridal 
 banquet, polluted ones made whiter than snow, the street Arab 
 made a king and priest to God foreyer ; — all, all will mount up 
 to swell the soul with rapture and fill eternity with gladness. 
 Then the privilege of adding one jewel to the Saviour's crown, 
 of winning the poorest soul on earth, will enhance and enlarge 
 the joys of heaven; for, while every saint shall have one 
 heaven, some shall have more. Those who have helped to fill 
 its mansions shall possess many heavens in one, and in propor- 
 tion to the good they have done, and the help they have ren- 
 -dered, shall their cro^vns shine and their cup overflow. I 
 beseech you, think of the fruit that shall abound tq your 
 
 N 
 
THE NATURE AND DUTY OF GIVING, 
 
 189 
 
 tribute 
 on, but 
 of feel- 
 2 given, 
 e have 
 NQ have 
 !»t upon 
 i barren 
 11 reap a 
 led the 
 ;th, the 
 pon us. 
 d bless- 
 jjects of 
 
 How 
 g times 
 le grand 
 at not a 
 jlime re- 
 enerous- 
 isions of 
 
 5ings, 
 
 of 
 
 orphan 
 assisted, 
 htened, 
 lal end, 
 fainting 
 bridal 
 set Arab 
 lount up 
 ladness. 
 s crown, 
 enlarge 
 ave one 
 d to fill 
 propor- 
 iave ren- 
 flpw. I 
 tq your 
 
 account, and then plant that you may gather, sow that you may 
 reap, toil that you may rest, and give that you may lay up 
 treasures in heaven that shall abound and be forever abound- 
 ing to your account. - 
 
 I beseech you weigh well the duty of Christ /an liberality and 
 give to the full amount of your means, as Christian men. Is 
 it honest to lay up what we ought to lay out ? Is it faithful to 
 appropriate another's property to our own uses ? Is it right to 
 withhold from God, merely to gratify ourselves ? Ask these 
 questions to your consciences in the light of eternity, and if 
 you wish to please Christ or check the spread of evil or cheer 
 the sick room or encourage God's ministers and secure your 
 own final salvation, attend to the injunction : " Freely ye have 
 received, freely give." Rise above the meanness of parsimony 
 or the prodigality of waste. Spare your indulgences, and, if 
 need be, make sacrifices that the Lord's House may be built, 
 remembering that he that gives not, lives not. 
 
 "The sun gives ever, so the earth ; 
 What it can give so much 'tis worth ; 
 ThH ocean gives in nirtny ways, — 
 Gives paths, gives fitihes, rivers, bays ; 
 So, too, the air, — it gives us breath, — 
 When it stops giving, in comes Death. 
 Give, give, be always giving ; 
 Who gives not, is not hving ; 
 The more we give. 
 The more wc live. 
 
 God's love hath in ns wealth upheaped,--^ 
 0«ily by giving, it is reaped ; 
 The body withers, and the mind 
 If pent in by a selfish rind. 
 Give strength, give thought, give deeds, give pelf, 
 Give love, give tears, and give thysell. 
 Give, give, be always giving, 
 
 Who gives not, is not living, " 
 
 The more we give, 
 Tue more we live." 
 
11 
 
 ! ^ 
 
 l! 
 
 1 I 
 
 II 
 
 h i 
 
 SEBMON IX. 
 
 JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 I 
 
 ** Being justified by faith we Aare peace with Ood, through our Lord Jemi9 
 Ohriat." "Rom. viii, i. 
 
 MONG evangelical Christians there exists no doubt of 
 the value and importance of this Epistle, and its value 
 at the time of publication must have been immense. 
 q)^ Paul reminds us that the Church at Rome had attained 
 some celebrity among sister Churches, for their faith was spoken 
 of throughout the world. But the Church had not grown per- 
 fect in Christian doctrine, for Paul longed to instruct and es- 
 tablish them. And to dispel their remaining ignorance, and 
 inform them correctly on man's moral state, and God's system 
 of spiritual recovery, he penned this letter. And from the first 
 day till now, this Epistle has been a tower of strength to the 
 believing world ; checking the encroachments of infidelity and 
 antichrist, frowning upon apostasy and error, and furnishing a 
 textbook to all who may desire to study in the school of Christ. 
 It testifies with uncompromising severity against sin ; it is the 
 most graphic limner of man's depravity ; it unfolds clearly the 
 universal Remedy of the all-healing Saviour, and contains nnd 
 defines the most momentous of Christian doctrines. The 
 doctrine here spoken of — ^justification by faith— was regarded 
 by the apostles and reformers as vital to the life and stability of 
 the Church. Luther maintained that if this one doctrine were 
 abandoned, the whole Christian system must perish with it. 
 And this doctrine is inseperably connected with Christ's atone- . 
 ment for sin, as clearly set forth in this Scripture. 
 
 FIRST — JUSTIFICATION. n^ 
 
 Many writers and speakers on this subject, regard the word V 
 
JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 191 
 
 rd Jesn9 
 
 Dubt of 
 s value 
 mense. 
 ttained 
 spoken 
 ivn per- 
 ind es- 
 ce, and 
 system 
 he first 
 I to the 
 ity and 
 shing a 
 Christ, 
 is the 
 rly the 
 ins nnd 
 The 
 garded 
 .lility of 
 le were 
 vith it. 
 \ atone- 
 
 le word 
 
 justification as a. forensic termy borrowed from a court of justice' 
 As we see it the application is obscure and incorrect. The 
 primary and distinctive meaning of the word ** justify " would 
 be this. Suppose the person accused of crime was brought to 
 judgment and an enquiry instituted as to whether he had vio- 
 lated the law, and the evidence brought failed to establish the 
 charge, and being found blameless he would be pronounced 
 just ; but a case of pardon is perfectly dissimilar to a case of 
 justification. The pardoned man must have been found guilty 
 by evidence or confession, and justice pronounces his guilt, 
 mercy arrests the sentence, and grants forgiveness and liberty, 
 yet he goes forth to the world with the stigma of crime which 
 nothing can reverse. The one who pardons the man cannot 
 change his character or obliterate his guilt. To say that a 
 pardoned man is justified, is a perversion of language ; and to 
 say that an acquitted man, is pardoned, is a gross insult to the 
 individual. Then the question would arise, how could any man 
 be justified in the sight of God, '• For all have sinned and come 
 short of His glory." Therefore every mouth must be stopped, 
 for the whole world is guilty before God. Man's moral de- 
 pravity is proved by the clearest evidence, the most universal 
 experience, by painful personal consciousness and God's own 
 attestations. The best of men — the purest in the judgment of 
 the world and Scripture, standing like polished columns of 
 noble, dignified, virtuous manhood — have ever felt in God's 
 sight to say " Behold I am vile for I have sinned against 
 heaven and before Thee." This being the case, the only escape 
 from the consequences of transgression must be pardon, the 
 blotting out of sin, or passing by sin, through divine mercy. 
 But this in itself is not justification ; properly speaking, it is 
 something extended to a man by pure favor on the very ground 
 that he cannot be justified. Here it is that we see that the term 
 has obtained an important theological significance, a new sense 
 applying it to a case where it cannot strictly apply, indicating 
 that some ideas have been imported into it^ which were not there 
 originally, whose parentage must be traced to the New Testa- 
 ment, and that the term as used in the Scriptures, and in refer- 
 ence to sinners is employed in a sense peculiar to itself, and 
 without parallel in any human transaction. For with God par- 
 don is justification. The forgiveness of sin is the recognition of 
 
? I 
 
 193 
 
 JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 1i 
 
 ■i 1 ■ 
 
 righteousness. Strange and inexplicable as this may appear, 
 Paul's idea of pardon is not merely forgiveness, but justification. 
 One act implies and always accompanies the other. The sub- 
 ject has given rise to a great number of questions as to the 
 ground on which the Divine action proceeds, the principles by 
 which it is regulstted, and the way in which it is accomplished. 
 One thing is certain that the whole transaction is based upon, 
 and springs out of the atoning work of Christ. In the substitution- 
 ary sacrifice of the Son of God the whole mystery is explained, 
 so far as it may be explained, and that substitutionary work the 
 Apostle thus epitomizes, "God hath made Him to be sin for us who 
 knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God 
 in Him." Do not mistake the language or suppose that Christ 
 was actually made sin, or a sinner, it means that by ready and 
 voluntary consent, Christ became the representative of the sin- 
 ner, and accordingly was proceeded against as though He had 
 been the sinner. " For the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity 
 of us all " " By His stripes we are healed." In the same sense 
 as our demerit is imputed to Christ ; Christ's tnerit is imputed 
 to us. So that in the eye of justice, and for all the purposes of 
 God's moral government. His suflTerings are our sufferings. His 
 obedience is our obedience, and we are made the righteousness 
 of God in Him. Not that Christ's righteousness is actually 
 transferred to us, to make us personally meritorious, for moral 
 character cannot be transferred. But the sacrifice for sin offered 
 by the accepted, sinless substiti^te, presented a complete satis- 
 faction to God for man. " So that he could be just while the 
 justifier of him that believeth in Christ." Justification is ex- 
 pressed and simplified in the parable of Joshua the High Priest. 
 Joshua comes in clothed with filthy garments. The voice says 
 take away those filthy garments, put a mitre on his head, clothe 
 him in royal raiment, make him rich and fair. These filthy 
 garments representing sin, and the changed state representing 
 regeneration and justification ; here you have a graphic picture 
 of the glorious change wrought in man, and for man, through 
 the justification of Christ. 
 
 SECOND — THE DIVINELY APPOINTED WAY OF JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 " By faith." Faith is one of the simplest subjects of Scrip- 
 ture, not needing some elaborate treatise of man's genius to ex- 
 
JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 '93 
 
 plain it. Believing is breathing, and every man understands 
 that though he cannot define it. Breathing is easy when the body 
 is right ; so is believing when the soul is right. Breathing i^ im- 
 possible to the dead ; so is believing from the heart unto salva- 
 tion to the man dead in trespasses and in sins. Faith is the 
 vision of the soul supplying the place of sight. Faith is an acf^ 
 not a stite. Faith is an active creative principle in the soul, it 
 seizes and draws the truth from itself and appropriates it as a 
 living element within us, vivifying and making part of ourselves 
 the truth which reason or revelation leaves without us. Not a 
 few have mystified faith by talking of different sorts. They 
 have spoken of natural faith^ historical faith^ spiritual faith. 
 They might as well speak of geological faith, or astronomical 
 faith, or military faith, for faith, while it has innumerable ob- 
 jects, is in essence^ one. Believing in the depths of the ocean 
 does not make it a marine faith. Believing the history of Moses 
 does not make it a biographical faith. A justifying faith is the 
 same in nature and substance as we exercise every day in com- 
 mon and temporal things, only the object to which it looks and 
 on which it rests is different. God's wisdom in making faith 
 the medium of justification is very apparent on the face of 
 things. 
 
 1st. Faith can be understood by all. Faith, instead of being, 
 as some have stated, the portion only of weak minds, and dis- 
 eased imaginations, is, in a sense, the common heritage of the 
 race, and a thing of daily exercise. What can be done without 
 faith ? It is the law and condition and strength of social re- 
 lations. That child accepts many things befc he can reason 
 or understand them for himself, and you app». his faith in a 
 parent's testimony. You send him to school and there is the 
 same disposition and faith manifested towards the teacher. 
 The mass of men accept on faith many facts which they have 
 neither time nor talent to comprehend. The world's commerce 
 and trade U carried on on this principle of faith. You believe 
 in the existence of countries and people, whom you have never 
 seen. You must and do accept the most of your information 
 on the testimony of others by faith. You are ill, and send for 
 a physician, and receive his perscription, and take his medicine 
 because you have faith in his skill and art. The world could 
 not hold together without faith. You go from your shop, or 
 
 m. 
 
 
194 
 
 JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 h 
 
 ' f 
 
 mill, or office to your everyday meal in faith, so that faith, as a 
 thing of every day exercise is, and must be, easily understood. 
 2nd. Faith may be exercised by all. Justification before God 
 must be on the ground of human merit or divine grace. Men 
 attempt in vain to unite the two as a conjoined basis of accept- 
 ance before God, but they are as discordant as a thing of right 
 and a thing of javor^ as that which you claim or beg. Paul 
 argues if justification be by grace, then it is no more of works, 
 otherwise grace can be no more grace. It would lose its na- 
 ture and cease to be what it is by the admixture, prostrating the 
 whole scheme of redeeming mercy, and falsifying the represen- 
 tations of truth. Justification by any merit of ours is impossible. 
 There may be some of you thinking to reach heaven by obedi- 
 ence to law; are you wiser than God ? Is the atonement a mis- 
 take ? Christ is become of no effect unto you who are justified 
 by the law. Ye are fallen from grace. Go to the law and see if 
 every requirement has been fulfilled, and then go deeper and 
 see how far the spirit has been apprehended and lived. Have 
 you loved the Lord with all your heart, and mind, and soul, and 
 strength, and your neighbor as yourself ? What answer does 
 conscience force you to give ? Is there not the blush of guilt 
 on the cheek and the agony of condemnation within? And un- 
 less Christ takes you up into his infinite compassion and re- 
 moves your guilt and sin, you are cast out forever, *' For by the 
 deeds of the law shall no fiesh be justified."^ Justification by 
 faith is the only ground of acceptance, the only standard of 
 justification attainable by all. The vilest, the most guilty, the 
 most unworthy may find encouragement and hope here. While 
 they remember that in the sufferings, and obedience, and death 
 of Christ, God's honor has been consulted, and man's condition 
 met. Any other course or condition of justification must be 
 limited and partial ; all men could not labor, or purchase, or 
 merit it if it depended on any of these. But all can accept a free 
 ^ift, all may receive the bounty and benevolence of God, 
 
 THIRD — THE RESULT OF JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 " We have peace with God." This peace is peculiar and 
 new, and personal, and incomparable. Who can describe the 
 peace which first flows into the forgiven soul, when the storm 
 and tempest of sin and condemnation is passed, and the sweet, 
 
JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 i9S 
 
 h, as a 
 rstood 
 re God 
 
 Men 
 arcept- 
 )f right 
 
 Paul 
 works, 
 its na- 
 ing the 
 presen- 
 bositble. 
 obedi- 
 : a mis- 
 ustified 
 id see if 
 )er and 
 
 Have 
 )ul, and 
 er does 
 of guilt 
 Lnd un- 
 ind re- 
 by the 
 tion by 
 iard of 
 Ity, the 
 
 While 
 d death 
 ndition 
 lust be 
 lase, or 
 it a free 
 
 ar and 
 ibe the 
 
 storm 
 
 sweet, \ 
 
 calm and holy tranquility of Divine peace succeeds ? When 
 the soul is again reconciled and at one with God. For this is 
 peace with God, that is, between the soul and God. The jar- 
 ring discords and unrest of sin have given place to sweet com- 
 munion and holy confidence in God. This peace is real and 
 conscious and personal. " Wf have peace." There is a peace 
 which is not felt and real, but merely outside and superficial. 
 The sunny sides of Etna smile with vineyards, grapes ripen, 
 flowers bloom, birds sing, flocks play, yet beneath all this scene 
 of placid beauty volcanic fires are heaving and young earth- 
 quakes struggle in birth throes. Such is the peace the world 
 gives. The lips may smile, the eyes sparkle, and laughter re- 
 sound, yet underneath all there may be a current of restless 
 agony. We all live a double life. The life which others see and 
 think we live, and the life of the soul revealed only 
 to our own consciousness and God. The real life of 
 every man is this inner life of conflict, and trial, and hope, 
 and fear, and remorse, and self-congratulation. There is 
 nothing this side of eternity so sublime and awe-inspiring as 
 this life-battle which desolates or divides the soul. You see a 
 man with gentle movement bowing smilingly in his morning 
 greeting, as he walks the street. Nothing indicates disquie- 
 tude within. But look within him in lonely hours, in midnight 
 watchings, in seasons of forced reflection, what a despair flood 
 rushes through him, hurrying him to temporal and eternal ruin. 
 Remorse thunders through every avenue of the soul, passion 
 charges his weak defences, till he cries out in very helplessness. 
 Such is the world's gift to its devotees. The peace of youth 
 and prosperity and pleasure, the first storm overthrows ; but 
 the real, heartfelt peace of the believer is very different. He 
 may be assailed and scarred and drenched by the angry tem- 
 pest without, while the grin of ridicule may mock his exhaust- 
 ing sorrow, but in the inner depths of his soul, at the very 
 springs of feeling, there is calm and peace and holy quietude. 
 His soul is at rest in the conscious confidence that God is his 
 friend, and that all things shall work together for good under 
 God's all-superintending fatherhood. He abidetb under the 
 shadow of ^he Almighty, and there he finds deep,pure, spiritual, 
 assuring, unchangeable peace, which but anticipates the calm 
 and unruffled peace of heaven. That peace which is imaged in 
 
^ 'f 
 
 196 
 
 JUtTiriCATION. 
 
 the waveless sea of crystal, where storm and tempest may 
 agitate no more. And there ultimately and forever the man 
 who through the blood of the everlasting covenant is justified, 
 and sanctified, and glorified, shall find the fullness of that 
 peace which Christ gives as the portion of them that believe. 
 
 
 i 
 
 ill 
 
 i 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 L_.., \ 
 
 f M . 
 
Ht may 
 )c man 
 Listified» 
 of that 
 lieve. 
 
 SERMON X. 
 
 SANCTIFICATION. 
 
 ** Blessed are the pure in heart, for they thaUaee Ood.''— Matt, v., 8, 
 
 • HIS text forms a part of our Lord's incomparable sermon 
 on the Mount. From such lips you would expect the 
 highest truths affecting man's well-being and destiny. 
 cj * And it is only asserting the merest truism to say that m 
 this sermon you are more than gratified. The whole discourse 
 is only such as Christ could deliver. Every sentence is full, is 
 comprehensive, is instructive, is tender, is sublime, is Christ^ 
 like ; and the complete sermon reveals a compass of subject, 
 breadth of view, clearness of perception, force of argument, 
 grandeur of thought, and perfection of style, found no where 
 €lse. There is hardly a topic referring to man's present or 
 future, his outer or inner life on which it docs not treat clearly 
 and faithfully. Christ's utterances are not the blushing, hesi- 
 tating utterances of a child, but the fearless, emphatic declara- 
 tions of the God-man. How beautifully He commences His 
 discourse with blessing, and how specific and true is He in the 
 selection of character, and how He unfolds the nature of the 
 blessing to be enjoyed by each. But of the nine distinct char- 
 acters he pronounces " Blessed," not one evidences the divinity 
 and spirituality of His teaching as clearly as the one before us. 
 
 "^ FIRST — SANCTIFICATION — THE PURITY REFERRED TO. 
 
 The doctrine here stated under the designation " purity of 
 heart" is the doctrine of Christian Sanctification, and on this 
 we present three leading thoughts : , 
 
 1st The nature of purity of hearty or Sanctification. Properly 
 to understand this purity we should know the subject of it 
 Purity differs according to the being possessing it. If we 
 
198 
 
 SANCTIFICATION. 
 
 
 m 
 
 
 
 ,1 
 
 I ' 
 
 I Iff:; 
 
 speak of angelic purity we refer to the unstained and spot- 
 less perfection of unfallen spirits. If we speak of abso- 
 lute purity^ such as God's, we refer to that state in which 
 the nature has no contact or affinities with evil ; is inaccessible 
 to sin, perfectly untemptable. Such a state of purity may not 
 be realized by man here. We must look for a definition in 
 harmony with what Scripture shows to be attainable by man on 
 earth. Two thoughts will render the nature of this purity 
 obvious to you. It is an entire freedom frOxM that 
 
 WHICH originates SIN, AND A COMPLETE DELIVERANCE 
 FROM THAT WHICH ADOPTS AND DELIGHTS IN SIN. If yOU 
 
 want these thoughts enlarged, that which originates sin 
 is a corrupt heart, for out of the heart proceeds lying, for- 
 nication, murder, and all manner of evil. This corrupt 
 and corrupting heart must be changed into a devout and 
 pure heart, and then it must be delivered from that which 
 adopts and delights in sin, whenever a fitting opportunity oc- 
 curs. Satan and the world are both impure and will spare no 
 pains to tempt you to sin, especially on the besetting sin, and 
 there is no state of grace in this world which can elevate us 
 above the possibility of temptation from without. Then what 
 we mean by being delivered from that which adopts sin, is being 
 freed from that latent, lurking, morbid desire, which loves to 
 think of sin, that would commit sin but for the consequences, 
 that wishes the punishment was not so severe and open, that 
 dwells with pleasure on forbidden images. There must be a 
 complete separation from this before we are pure in heart. 
 There must be an humble endeavor to be like the Master who 
 said : "Satan cometh and hath nothing in me." What purity 
 is to water, and whiteness is in snow, so must the mind and 
 spirit be of him that is pure in heart. Corrupt passions, self- 
 seeking, evil thoughts, vitiated affections, wrong desires, every- 
 thing evil must give place to the dominion of what is holy and 
 undefiled before we are truly renewed in heart. You see there- 
 fore that sanctification is not faultlessnesSf which is the mere 
 negation of evil, hwi perfection^ which is the positive attainment 
 of all concievable excellence. It is not to perform an act, but 
 to achieve a character. It is to retrace God's likeness upon the 
 renewed soul 
 
 ' i 
 
SANCTIFICATION. 
 
 199 
 
 md spot- 
 of abso- 
 in which 
 iccessible 
 ' may not 
 nition in 
 ^ man on 
 lis purity 
 
 DM THAT 
 [VERANCE 
 
 If you 
 lates sin 
 ying, for- 
 I corrupt 
 ivout and 
 at which 
 :unity oc- 
 1 spare no 
 sin, and 
 levate us 
 hen what 
 1, is being 
 loves to 
 equences, 
 >pen, that 
 [ust be a 
 in heart, 
 aster who 
 at purity 
 nind and 
 ions, self- 
 es, cvery- 
 holy and 
 see there- 
 the mere 
 ttainment 
 n act, but 
 upon the 
 
 2nd, TTie necessity of purity of heart. Several arguments 
 might be used to show this necessity ; but two or three will now 
 suffice us. {a) Tht onmiscience of God. A Jew would more 
 readily understand this term " purity of heart " than we do, the 
 reference being to the purity of the sacrificial victim. The lamb 
 brought for sacrifice must not only be externally without blem- 
 ish, but its skin was taken off by the sacrificial knife, to see that 
 the flesh was spotless and then the victim was opened, and di- 
 vided to see that the internal parts, especially the heart, was 
 perfect, and if a defect was found anywhere it was unfit for 
 sacrifice. Now God's omniscient eye searches every nature more 
 minutely than any sacrificial operation can. " For His eyes are 
 like a flame of fire running to and fro the earth, discerning the 
 evil and the good," hence the necessity of purity of heart. Had 
 you only to do with human society external faultlessness would 
 be sufficient. Men cou'd require no more than a blameless, 
 upright morality. If they pretended to accuse you of wrong 
 feelings or motives you might at once reply, I have strictly 
 obeyed your laws and you have no right to question my motives, 
 but in dealing with one who knows all our thoughts and feel- 
 ings and motives— one who is of purer eyes than to behold 
 iniquity — we must be holy in the very recesses of the heart, ab- 
 staining from that which we would not have an angel record or 
 God witness. (^) The utter itnpracticableness of the Divine 1am 
 without purity. You cannot really and truly obey the Divine 
 command without purity of heart, for that required truth in the 
 inward parts. It not only needs purity to meet its outward re- 
 quirements, but it demands holiness within, and it traces the 
 connection between external obedience and internal conformity. 
 '' Thy law have I hid in my heart that I should not sin against 
 thee with my tongue." And it suggests the need of pure 
 motive to stamp the deed with holiness. " If thine eye be 
 single thy whole body shall be full of light" And in showing 
 the utter impossibility of fulfilling the Divine law without inward 
 purity, the Apostle says, **When I would do good evil is pre- 
 sent with me." So that we cannot do the good we would, or 
 that the Word of God commands, until evil is removed by the 
 presence and power of Scriptural holiness, {c) The impossibility 
 of entering heaven without purity. The Bible does not speak 
 very minutely about the world of light and glory; the great Sab- 
 
 if 
 
 ll: 
 
 li%. 
 
200 
 
 SANCTIFICATION. 
 
 
 11' 
 
 IS 
 
 i' I 
 
 111 
 
 m 
 
 
 batic eternity where the soul shall rest in God and throb with 
 the liie-beats of immortality. But there is one thing respecting 
 heaven of which it affords the clearest testimony, its sinlessness] 
 ITS HOLINESS. " For without holiness no man shall see the 
 Lord." "There shall in no wise enter in that which defileth or 
 worketh abomination or maketh a lie." Those holy gates for- 
 ever bar pollution, sin, and shame. Could you suppose an en- 
 trance vouchsafed to an unholy man it could afford him no 
 pleasure. What delight could a polluted soul have in the pres- 
 ence of a sinless God ? What relish could it have for the society 
 of the holy? What gratitude could it express for favors the life 
 had despised ? In such a condition, instead of finding heaven 
 a place of unmingled bliss, the soul would find it a place of in- 
 tollerable anguish. There must be congruity of mind with the 
 source of felicity. Every principle must harmonize with the will 
 and nature of God. There must be holiness of desire, of nature, 
 of life, before heaven is possible. And to miss heaven is the 
 most overwhelming loss; it is to fail of the very end of life and 
 to perish forever. 
 
 jrd. The means to secure purity of heart. The Holy Spirit is 
 the one efficient agent in the renewal and sanctification of man. 
 Though He neither circumscribes nor superseeds our own exer- 
 tion, nor sets aside subordinate means, but no effort of ours 
 will prove successful unless the Spirit unites with it. But while 
 remembering Ht- is the agent there are means that we must 
 adopt to secure this purity of heart, {a) We must set our heart 
 upon it as necessary attd attainable. Realizing the degredation 
 and confusion and misery of a mixed state, where all the 
 springs of action are out of harmony with God's law, and con- 
 ceiving the dignity and essential blessedness of a pure state, 
 the peace, the elevation above the sweep of passion, the glow- 
 ing vision of the fancy, the oneness of the soul with God, the 
 conscious participation of the Christlike. Keeping this in 
 view it should be the accepted aim of the life to be pure and 
 holy, and the heart fixed on such a requirement as attainable 
 and necessary, will pray and strive until it grows into the holi- 
 ness it seeks. But unless you believe it necessary and attain- 
 able you will not put forth the required effort to secure it. If 
 you say, •* purity of heart is good and desirable in many ways," 
 yet, " I can do without it," you will not press after it as you 
 
SANCI'IFICATION. 
 
 20I 
 
 b with 
 pecting 
 essness) 
 see the 
 ileth or 
 tes for- 
 an en- 
 lim no 
 le pres- 
 society 
 the life 
 heaven 
 e of in- 
 vith the 
 the will 
 f nature, 
 1 is the 
 life and 
 
 Spirit is 
 of man. 
 wn exer- 
 of ours 
 lut while 
 e must 
 ur heart 
 edation 
 all the 
 ind con- 
 -e state, 
 e glow- 
 od, the 
 this in 
 >ure and 
 tainable 
 e holi- 
 attain- 
 it. If 
 |y ways," 
 as you 
 
 should. You must feel, I can and will secure this purity in order 
 to make my calling and election sure, (b) There must also be a set- 
 tled conviction of God's ability and willingness to purify the heart. 
 No one can observe in Scripture God's apparatus of cleansing 
 for the purification of souls, such as washings, sprinklings, bap- 
 tisms, purifying fires, furnaces of affliction, purgings of con- 
 science, without regarding it as a great, a crowning object, in 
 the Divine arrangement to promote the moral purity of man. 
 God wills, God desires, God seeks, God is a,ble to purify all 
 men and restore them to His image, for He is able to make 
 all grace to abound to them that believe. {c) And there must 
 be a full belief in the power and efficacy of the atoning blood of 
 Christ to purify the heart. It is right to regard the atonement 
 of Christ as having made a complete satisfaction to God for 
 man, as being a sufficient sacrifice for human sin, as furnishing 
 a sufficient basis for man's trust and God's honor. And it is 
 sweet to recall in connection with it, the innumerable sins 
 Christ has blotted out in every age and land. To see Him, one 
 generation after another, giving peace to the penitent, consola- 
 tion to the broken-hearted, and power to them that have no 
 strength. To see Him kindling the zeal of preachers, illumi- 
 nating the prison cell of confessors, enrapturing the suffering 
 martyr, and grasping the hand of the feeblest believer as he 
 passes the death river to the life above. But with all this we 
 must believe in the power and efficacy of the blood of Jesus to 
 cleanse from all sin ; to sanctify and present a glorious Church 
 without spot or wrinkle or any such thing. If we limit Christ's 
 atoning blood to the satisfaction it affords to God, and the par- 
 don it gives to man, we rob it of its very perfectness, and limit 
 it at the point where it can bring most glory to God and most 
 blessedness to man. You strip it of the very jewel of the final 
 salvation of those it has redeemed. It is said of the glorified, 
 " They have washed their robes and made them white in the 
 blood of the Lamb." No partial cleansing, but a perfect, a 
 complete renewal does the blood of Jesus secure. There are 
 subordinate means that we must adopt so that the larger means 
 may not fail of their effect, we must avoid all incentives to im- 
 purity, worthless books, vain amusements, suspicious places, 
 filthy language, immoderate eating and drinking, useless or un- 
 becoming apparel, anything that would tend to destroy the 
 
 ■ t 
 
202 
 
 SANCTIFICATION. 
 
 s f( 
 
 spirit and life of holiness. It may, it will, cost a long, fierce 
 struggle and conflict, but practice the required self-denial. 
 " For if thy right hand offend thee cut it off, or if thy right eye 
 offend thee pluck it out, and cast it from thee, for it is better 
 for thee to enter into life halt, or maimed, rather than having 
 two hands or two eyes to be cast into hell fire." And super- 
 added to this, we must observe all promotives to purity. Watch- 
 fulness, prayer, diligence, honor, self-denial, the Bible, the. 
 Church, the Sabbath and all other aids to vital godliness. 
 
 SECOND — THE BLESSEDNESS OF THIS STATE. 
 
 " Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God" 
 I St. They shall see God in the more distinct and complete mani- 
 festation of His nature and perfection. God only can reveal 
 Himself. He is the only light by which Himself is seen. Like 
 the sun which can be seen only by its own light. If the sun 
 is hid from us as it is by night and we were to select all the 
 artificial light in the world and go in search of it, we should not 
 see it until the return of morning when its own rays would 
 make it visible. So if God is hid He must reveal Himself, for 
 we cannot see Him. And is not God hidden from a wicked 
 man. Moral depravity sends up a night mist over the soul so 
 that an unbeliever is emphatically without God in the world. 
 But when the nature is renewed the cloud and darkness are dis- 
 persed and the moral firmanent becomes clear and bright. 
 Then God comes forth in full and attractive manifestation. 
 His nature is open to intelligent scrutiny as the perfection of 
 beauty. His love in all its intensity, eternity and fulness, is re- 
 vealed, and His powet to keep, guide, to establish, to preserve, 
 is sublimely portrayed. God is light and in that light alone can 
 He be seen. 
 
 2nd. In the mysterious dealings of His Providence. Divine 
 providence mantled in performed concealment is to a wicked 
 man dark and perplexing. He experiences reverses or sorrows, 
 and they are all as black as midnight to him. He may think 
 of fate or chance putting its rude hand upon him, but he is the 
 more confused. Providence is a wheel within a wheel But 
 he cannot see that the wheel is full of eyes, all is dark because 
 he cannot see God. But the pure in heart see God in His most 
 mysterious providences. Job, in the sudden and unexpected 
 
X 
 
 SANCTIFICATION. 
 
 203 
 
 ng, fierce 
 ;lf-denial. 
 right eye 
 is better 
 in having 
 nd super- 
 . Watch- 
 ible, the, 
 ess. 
 
 Godr 
 blete mani- 
 ;an reveal 
 een. Like 
 If the sun 
 ect all the 
 should not 
 ays would 
 [imself, for 
 I a wicked 
 he soul so 
 the world. 
 ;ss are dis- 
 md bright, 
 lifestation. 
 rfection of 
 ness, is re- 
 preserve, 
 alone can 
 
 Divine 
 ) a wicked 
 Dr sorrows, 
 may think 
 t he is the 
 leel But 
 k because 
 His most 
 nexpected 
 
 reverse of his fortunes, saw the hand of God. One ran and 
 told him the Sabeans had fallen upon his oxen and asses and 
 carried them away ; another ran and told him that the Chaldeans 
 had fallen upon his sheep and camels and taken them away ; 
 and yet another ran and told him that the great wind had swept 
 and destroyed the house where his sons and daughters were 
 feasting so that they were all dead. But pure hearted Job said, 
 " The Lord," — not the Sabeans nor the Chaldeans, nor the fire, 
 nor the whirlwind, but " the Lord gave and the Lord hath taken 
 away, blessed be the name of the Lord." And so every re- 
 newed man feels however deep, and still, and dark, and awful 
 the providence, God is in it. Not merely His hand but Him- 
 self, and if sickness, or bereavement, or loss may be a shadowed 
 path he sees God in it and that is enough. He may 
 not know the cause or issue of what he suffers but 
 he feels that ever and everywherehe is engirdled 
 with God, and though visitation may set him aside, in 
 that seclusion he is closeted with God, he leans on God's 
 arm, weeps on God's bosom, rests under the shadow of 
 God's wing, and though his meal be a crust and water, he ban- 
 quets with Christ at a royal table, and though his home be a 
 poor cottage, angel visits are often, and though he lie on a soli- 
 tary bed of straw, there God manifests Himself as He doth not 
 unto the world. His darkest night is arched with a jeweled 
 sky and there is no cloud without its bow of hope. 
 
 2rd. In His ordinances. There are pleasing and blessed 
 institutions of God's own appointment, in connection with 
 every gospel Church. The Sacrament, in which Christ is set 
 forth as slain for us. The preaching of the gospel where all 
 the blessings of the redeeming plan are offered and pressed upon 
 the acceptance of all, and prayer and praise and every other ordi- 
 nance of God's appointment.arebut so many avenues that lead to 
 God. The wicked man can see no God in any of them. He 
 may admire the taste or talent of the minister, or be impressed 
 with other parts of the service, but he does not see God there. 
 The pure in heart alone meet God in His holy ordinances. To 
 them the means of Grace are precious, the medium of sweet 
 and hallowed blessings, where they find shelter and refuge and 
 joy amid the world's cares, where they bring their sorrows and 
 lay them before the throne of Him who bhines into the com- 
 
 !l 
 
HI' 
 
 I' iijH 
 
 204 
 
 SANCTIPICATION 
 
 i 
 
 muning heart, and amid the tender and blessed revelations <rf 
 His ordinances God is indeed present to the consciousness and 
 faith of His people. 
 
 4tA, They shall see God as He is in the clear and perfect 
 manifestation of Himself in Heaven. Every holy man regards 
 it as the highest privilege of the hea»'enly state to enjoy the 
 vision of God. The Divine essence, that which is God indeed, 
 is invisible to the best of men in this world. But in heaven the 
 glorified live in the unveiled light of his countenance. To that 
 beatific vision good men look and long. The vision of friends, 
 and thrones, and crowns, and palms, and harps, and mansions 
 is not so desired as to see "the King in His beauty." Believers 
 in every age have sighed and longed for the sight of God. 
 When Job sat down to gaze with sadness on the wreck of his 
 splendid fortune he was consoled with the hope "In my flesh I 
 shall see God." When David pictured to himself the greatest 
 joy of heaven he said, "I shall behold His face in righteous- 
 ness." When John expressed the grandest idea of his own long- 
 ing and prospect he exclaimed, "We shall see Him as He is." 
 And when Christ would give the listening multitudes an idea 
 of the chief felicity of heaven he declared, " Blessed are the 
 pure in heart for they shall see God." Oh ! what a mystery of 
 blessedness does this include, to gaze forever upon that glory, 
 before which angels veil their faces, is the perfection of felicity. 
 In what particular form God shall manifest Himself in heaven 
 we cannot say. We know that revelation shall be one of 
 ineffable splendor. The glory of the universe is but a shadow 
 to Him who builds His throne with gems of insufferable bright- 
 ness and lays the beams of night beneath His feet. So bright 
 is His glory that heaven needs no other light, His presence is 
 eternal noon, eternal summer. But however high or bright or 
 glorious the sight the pure in heart shall see Him in all His 
 perfections, and gaze upon His exalted dignity, and peerless 
 beauty and supreme God-head. The privilege, the glory, the 
 ecstacy of beholding the manifested God, who, who^ shall 
 describe ? What a sight of almost unbearable blessedness, of 
 almost unendurable glory to behold Him, GOD, face to face. 
 Oh that we may share in that perfect, that glorious vision in 
 God's own home ! 
 
 \\ 
 
:ions of 
 less and 
 
 r perfect 
 regards 
 ijoy the 
 indeed, 
 iven the 
 To that 
 friends, 
 mansions 
 believers 
 of God. 
 k of his 
 y flesh I 
 greatest 
 ghteous- 
 wn long- 
 He is." 
 an idea 
 are the 
 stery of 
 t glory, 
 felicity, 
 heaven 
 one of 
 shadow 
 e brij^ht- 
 o bright 
 ence is 
 right or 
 ail His 
 peerless 
 ory, the 
 0^ shall 
 Iness, of 
 face, 
 asion in 
 
 SERMON XI. 
 
 THE RESURRECTION, 
 
 "^tt< some man will say how are the dead raised up ? and with what body 
 do they come?" — T. Cor. xv., 35. 
 
 iHESE words are placed by the Apostle as you perceive in 
 the lijps of a caviller who wishes to know how the resur- 
 rection is possible, and in what manner the dispersed 
 elements shall be collected and reunited, which ques- 
 tion the Apostle answers with much reason, clearness and power. 
 This chapter in which more attention is devoted to the discus- 
 sion of the doctrine of the resurrection than in any part of the 
 sacred Scriptures is one of the most elaborate, argumentative, 
 and masterly ever written. It is the greatest production of the 
 ablest Christian reasoner on the subject. Paul commences by 
 asserting the fact of Christ's resurrection, a fact testified to by 
 the most varied and competent witnesses, and on the truth of 
 that he grounds the hope and certainty of the general resurrec- 
 tion of mankind. Accepting Christ's resurrection as the pledge 
 and first-fruits of the final ingathering to the eternal harvest he 
 proceeds to discuss the doctrine generally. The arguments he 
 uses and the form in which he presents the whole question your 
 study of the chapter has made familiar to you, so that without 
 any further observations, I shall invite you to look calmly and 
 candidly at this questfon : 
 
 FIRST — THE PROOF CONFIRMATORY OF THE HOPES OF A GENERAL 
 
 RESURRECTION OF MANKIND SHOWING HOW AND WHY WE 
 
 BELIEVE THE DEAD SHALL BE RAISED. 
 
 isi. The general resurrection neither supposes nor requires 
 greater power than God has already shown in the operations of 
 
206 
 
 THE RESURRiiCTION. 
 
 ; J? 
 
 f! 'f: 
 
 nature. I know there are difficulties connected with the resur- 
 rection of the body, which have led the gravest philosophers into 
 a maze of absurdities and left all philosophy at fault, for it is 
 one of those subjects that metaphysical or natural science can- 
 not lully explain. Our knowledge of it must be a matter of 
 pure revelation, and in the absence of such a revelation the 
 wisest heathen sages regard death as the extinction of being. 
 They doubted even the immortality of the soul, so obscure were 
 their vie"s of the life to come from their ignorance of the 
 doctrl.ii / the resurrection. They knew that their concious, 
 thinkiiig life was connected with a visible body, and that body, 
 they saw, went to decay, while they received no intimation that 
 that decay would ever pass away, so that there was nothing to 
 bridge over the great chasm that lies between the present and 
 the future. When they looked upon death they saw only ruin 
 earthed among its kindred dusts, and resolved into it. They 
 saw waste and a mouldering heap, but no promise of change. 
 Hence the great Pliny classed the calling of the dead back to 
 life among the impossible things which Deity cannot accom- 
 plish. And Celsus regarded the resurrection as the hope of 
 worms, a f -thy and an abominable thing, which God neither can 
 nor will do. But why this complete denial of the doctrine of 
 the resurrection ? Is there nothing in nature, which rightly 
 viewed suggests the possibility and probability of the resurrec- 
 tion of the dead ? And does not Creation show as much power 
 and skill and mystery as reorganization and resurrection ? Is 
 one mystery greater than another ? Or is it harder to compile 
 than to create ? The sun sinks upon the western sea and to 
 morrow re-appears in the eastern sky. The moon wanes and 
 vanishes and then returns full-orbed. The earth becomes tor- 
 pid in winter, but teems with life in spring. Flowers and fruits 
 decay and perish, but reviveand re-bloomwith recurring seasons. 
 The caterpillar dies as a chrysalis and receives new life as a but- 
 terfly. And are not these foreshadowings of the resurrection ? 
 It is no greater miracle that a body should have a second ex- 
 istence than a first ; that dry bones should at God's bidding put 
 on holy and new forms ; than that a dead seed should have 
 power to fill the air with perfume, or a torpid chrysalis burst 
 forth into new activity and life. The only difference is that one 
 is a familiar miracle, and the other we have yet to see. If God 
 
THE RESURRECTION. 
 
 207 
 
 e resur- 
 ers into 
 DY it is 
 ce can- 
 atter of 
 :ion the 
 f being, 
 re were 
 I of the 
 mcious, 
 It body, 
 ion that 
 hing to 
 int and 
 ily ruin 
 
 They 
 change, 
 back to 
 accom- 
 hope of 
 ther can 
 trine of 
 rightly 
 esurrec- 
 h power 
 >n? Is 
 compile 
 and to 
 les and 
 mes tor- 
 id fruits 
 seasons. 
 IS a but- 
 rection ? 
 :ond ex- 
 iing put 
 Id have 
 is burst 
 that one 
 
 If God 
 
 could people the fields of space with matchless wonder, and 
 light up the sky with ever burning gems of stars, and pulsate all 
 animate tribes with life, He certainly can construct that which 
 He at first formed from nothing — a far less difficult task. No 
 greater power is necessary to raise the dead than nature already 
 manifests. Creation shows that Omnipotence cannot be limited 
 •or baffled, and the resurrection will yet proclaim that nothing is 
 too hard for the Lord. 
 
 2nd. Tht general resurrection is clearly taught in the Holy 
 Scriptures. Though I do not regard as unimportant the pos- 
 sibility of a resurrection as taught in nature, but rather boast 
 that boundless power linked to infinite knowledge can perform 
 all I am taught to expect, so that my faith hopes for nothing 
 impossible to God. Yet in accepting this doctrine as absolutely 
 and undeniably certain, I must take it as a revealed fact, and 
 rest upon the testimony of God's Word. Now, you remember 
 the doctrine of the resurrection is explicitly and emphatically 
 taught in both parts of Scripture. In the Old Testament Job 
 said, " I know that my Redeemer liveth and that he shall stand 
 in the latter days upon the earth, and though after my skin 
 worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh I shall see God." 
 Isaiah proclaimed, ** Thy dead men shall live together, with my 
 dead body shall they arise." Daniel exclaimed, " They that 
 sleep in the dust of the earth shall come forth," while Hosea 
 cries out, "I will ransom them from the power of the grave." 
 And in the New Testament it is written with the clearness of a 
 sunbeam, and taught as a favorite theme of apostolic preach- 
 ing. The apostles guarded the doctrine with a godly jealousy 
 as the very keystone of the Christian arch, the life and power 
 and strength of the revealed system, and a visible door to im- 
 mortality. Matthias might be a great and good man, but he 
 must not be of the number of the twelve, unless he had been a 
 witness of the resurrection. The Corinthians might have strong 
 faith, and good preachers, as is here shown, but if there be no 
 resurrection then "is the faith and pleaching vain. If this doc- 
 trine failed, they which had fallen asleep in Christ had perished, 
 and others were yet in their sins. That is why Paul, when 
 standing before Felix or Agrippa, or his Hebrew accusers,makes 
 this grand defence, *' I confess that after the way which they 
 ■call heresy, so worship I God, and have hope toward God that 
 
ao8 
 
 THE RESURRECTION. 
 
 i ! 
 
 '■ i 
 
 there shall be a resurrection of the dead." " And again, as 
 touching the resurrection of the dead, am I called in question. "^ 
 While Jesus strengthens the position immeasurably by confirm- 
 ing the prophetic and apostolic by the words that are divine, 
 teaching with an authority and clearness that only the world's 
 teacher could, this precious article of the Christian faith, 
 " Marvel not at this, the hour is coming and now is, when all 
 that are in their graves shall hear the voice of the Son of Man 
 and come forth." And to His distinct teachings He added the 
 most practical proofs in the victims He reclaimed from the 
 power of death during His sojourn on earth, the mcst remark- 
 able, Lazarus of Bethany, who had been dead four days, yet 
 Christ burst open the barred gate and summoned Lazarus by 
 His word, and that resurrection was a first sheaf gathered by 
 the great reaper as a specimen of the general resurrection. By 
 it Christ speaks to every bereaved one, " Thy brother shall rise 
 again." 
 
 jrd. The general resurrection is necessary to the completeness of 
 Chrisfs victory and deliverance. Redemption is both virtual 
 and actual. We were virtually redeemed when the covenanted 
 price was paid, but actual and true redemption takes place only 
 on the complete liberation of the captive. At present we are 
 bought with a price, and therefore are Christ's freedmen. But 
 as the Apostle expresses it, " We are waiting for the adoption^ 
 to wit, the redemption of the body," when the spoils of death 
 shall be given back and the liberation of the captive complete. 
 We cannot conceive of Christ taking away sin without taking 
 away also the death that came by sin. The enemy must have 
 nothing — not even man's dust — or the victory of Christ would 
 be incomplete. The rescued spirit might have fled to its rest, 
 and Christ have stood confessed the victor and Lord of souls, 
 but how Satan would boast if he could say, " Bruised as my 
 head is, yet man's body is mine henceforth. The dust which 
 Heaven once breathed in, and in which incarnate God once 
 dwelt to honor and exalt it, I have borne this off the field in 
 triumph." If there should be one silent body amid the indis- 
 criminate dust of centuries of mortality, from the first victim of 
 the fatal sentence down to the vei^ last that shall enter the 
 grave of the dead, forgotten, or left to perish unawakened for- 
 ever, then Satan could say to Christ, " Your deliverance is but 
 
 ' 
 
THE RESURRECTION. 
 
 209 
 
 igain, a» 
 estion."^ 
 :onfirm- 
 divine, 
 world's 
 1 faith, 
 hen all 
 of Man 
 ded the 
 om the 
 remark- 
 lys, yet 
 irus by 
 ered by 
 on. By- 
 hall rise 
 
 teness of 
 virtual 
 enanted 
 Lce only 
 
 we are 
 . But 
 option,, 
 f deatb 
 mplete» 
 
 taking 
 St have 
 : would 
 its rest» 
 ■ souls^ 
 
 as my 
 : which 
 d once 
 field in 
 I indis- 
 :tim of 
 ter the 
 id for- 
 
 is but 
 
 partial." But he is denied this boast, for Jesus hath command- 
 ed concerning our bones. Despite the worm, despite the winds, 
 despite the fury of the last element; .1 scattering, the dead shall 
 be raised; the reclaimed relics of the dead are a part of Christ's 
 trophies of redemption. He was to destroy both death, and him 
 that had the power of death, " For this purpose the Son of God 
 was manifested that he might destroy the works of the devil, 
 and deliver them who through fear of death were all their life- 
 time subject to bondage." Death is as much His enemy as the 
 sin which entailed it. If then, Christ must reign till He hath 
 put all enemies under His feet, and if the last enemy that shall 
 be destroyed is deatli, then when the resurrection is universal 
 and perfect; when the worst and best of men are /raised incor- 
 ruptible, and the living changed in a moment; when every soul 
 shall claim its rightful property in God's acre; when the soul on 
 the border of the tomb shall enrobe itself with its other half> 
 and the compound nature of all mankind lie reunited forever, 
 then, not till then, shall the sublime shout be heard : " Death 
 is swallowed up in victory." 
 
 SECOND — THE FORM AND CHARACTERISTIC PROPERTIES OF THE 
 
 RAISED BODY. 
 
 "With what body do they come ?" 
 
 I St. The same body with all its essential and peculiar features 
 and perfect personal identity as was before possessed shall be raised. 
 
 The question may be asked ** How is it possible that bodies 
 so'disjoined, and mixed and scattered, can be re-collected and 
 raised in all their marked and discoverable identity ?" Some 
 of the bodies of mankind have been scattered far and wide 
 among the desert sands, others have been burnt at the martyr's 
 stake, others have been engulfed by the great wide sea, others 
 have been incorporated in the bodies of fish and animals, others 
 have gone to fatten the soil for trees, and shrubs, and grass, and 
 have lived anew in the vegetable, the plant, the sheep, the suc- 
 cessive generations, for all matter by an inevitable law, is con- 
 stantly undergoing changes. How then can all this be restored 
 and raised? With God this is not impossible. Reasoning 
 from analogy, you see its possibility. Modern science has 
 shown that chemists can mix several liquids of different kinds 
 so that the smallest particles shall partake of all the constituent 
 
2IO 
 
 THE RESURRECTION. 
 
 i; 
 
 i ! 
 
 I 
 
 liquids, and then by analysis, separate these compound sub- 
 stances into all the simple liquids of which it was composed. 
 There is a story told of a workman of the great chemist Fara- 
 day. One day he knocked into a jar of acid a little silver cup. 
 It disappeared, was eaten up by the acid, and could not be 
 found. The question came up whether it could ever be found. 
 One said he could find it ; another said it was held in solution, 
 and there was no possibility of finding it. The great chemist 
 came in, and put some chemical into the jar, and in a moment 
 every particle of the silver was precipitated to the bottom. He 
 lifted it out a shapeless mass, sent it to the silversmith, and the 
 cup was restored. Now if man, by the aid of science, can de- 
 tect, and separate the mixed substances of nature, is it not 
 rational to infer that the Creator of all things can easily separate 
 the principal atoms of the decayed human form, and raise it on 
 a scale of greatness and perfection ? But let me say that the 
 resurrection of every identical particle of the body that was 
 buried is not necessary to the most literal and personal resur- 
 rection. Our only difficulty readily to realize this is in our own 
 ignorance of what personal identity iSy and what is necessary to 
 it. But that the presence of the same material particles is 
 necessary, reason, and science, and vegetation, and Scripture 
 clearly disprove. According to physiologists, the human body, 
 even during this life, is in a constant state of waste, and muta- 
 tion, and change ; I am not bodily, the same man I was a few 
 years ago, and yet the identity of the personal conscious, think- 
 ing principle has been no more affected by this change than if 
 it had been a mere change of location, so that while every parti- 
 cle of the body may waste and decay in its process, whilst the 
 principle which thinks, and feels, and knows, remains the same, 
 my personal identity is perfect, be it what it may. And will 
 not this argument apply, with all its force, to the resurrection ? 
 The body laid in the grave, may change, and separate, yet 
 when these, or like particles, are gathered and united to our 
 own proper personal sentient, conscious, germinal self, we shall 
 feel that body is our body, and we are the same men. Any 
 change of corporal particles will be a mere accident, that will 
 not affect personal identity and sameness, according to all right 
 conceptions of individuality. And this the Apostle fully shows 
 by the simple anology of vegetation, " Thou fool," says he to 
 
 \ 
 
 
THE RESURRECTION. 
 
 JII 
 
 the sceptical ciKiiiirer,** That which thou sowest is not quickened 
 except it die," as if ' '^ had said "A part of that grain you sow 
 decomposes and wastes, but its indestructible germ quickened 
 by an unseen power, shoots f^'th and finally bears the same like 
 grain," and the identity between .hr wheat sown and the wheat 
 reaped is perfect, .^o in the resurrection body, some of the atoms 
 that pass to the tomh mny decay, but the germ shall be raise \ 
 in full possession of all tht* essential qualities and features, and 
 affections, and lineaments of individual being, so that the very 
 same man who lived, and breathed, and acted before, shall come 
 forth with all the marks of real and striking personality. As 
 Christ arose, t/tis same Jesus y so each will exclaim, *' It is / my- 
 self." And when the soul comes at the bidding of the last 
 trumpet, to make inquisition for flesh, it shall not mistake its 
 partner, but amid the crowd, single its other half with ease, and 
 that raised body will represent its degrees of age^ except the 
 perishable features, all trace of decay will be gone ; but children 
 will not raise as men, but with their own body shall all flesh 
 come forth with every distinction of nature, and sex, and age, 
 and degree of maturity. 
 
 2nd. The body shali be changed and immortalized^ in harmony 
 with its neiv condition and state. " It is sown in corruption it is 
 raised in incorruption ; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in 
 power ; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body." 
 No more sickness to waste, or disease to decay, or carnality to 
 pollute, or animalism to degrade, or death to destroy. All un- 
 holy thoughts and inclinations shall have passed away, and the 
 body become a hallowed and glorious temple of the Godlike 
 soul, fitted for the home it shall inhabit, and the spirit ic shall 
 encase, and the services it shall fulfil, and the company it shall 
 mingle with forever. 
 
SEBMON XII. 
 
 SERVICE AND REWARD. 
 
 ClfiJ 
 
 'I 
 
 1 
 
 f 
 
 ilVl 
 
 ** His lord said unto him. Well don^-, thou good and faithjul servant : thou 
 hast heen faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many 
 things : enter thou into the joy 0/ thy lord," — Matt, xxv., 21. 
 
 [T is the supreme desire of every true Christian to please 
 Christ. No good man will be heedless of the judgment 
 of the world or the Church. To be approved of by our 
 brethren, and better still by our own conscience, is no 
 sm.ill pleasure ; but there are moments when every good man 
 feels it is a small thing to be judged of man's judgment — a 
 judgment which, however approving, may be reversed by the 
 Great Judge ; a judgment which, however condemning, may not 
 be sustained by the Great Judge. Any human judgment may 
 be easily modified or revoked by Him who judgoth righteous 
 judgment ; therefore every true believer cares for Christ's ap- 
 proval and acceptance as he cares for nothing else. Paul's 
 language is the motto text of every true life : " We labor, there- 
 fore, that whether present or absent we may be accepted of 
 HimP On this the eye is fixed in the prosecution of every toil 
 and the selection of every course ; and animated by such a re- 
 gard for Christ's approval we shall have but one desire to be 
 and do rights that we may be righteous in the estimate of the 
 eternal moral law and in the opinion of Him whose judgment 
 abides. This is the suggestion and idea of the text. The 
 parable with which this is connected involves many thoughts of 
 general and impressive teaching — that Christians are serving an 
 unseen Master who has gone to receive to Himself a kingdom 
 that a great and responsible charge is devolved upon every ser. 
 
 X 
 
SERVICE AND REWARD. 
 
 213 
 
 vant of God, that however long He may seem to tarry, the day 
 of the Lord's final reckoning will come, that the results of work 
 done for Christ remain. These thoughts we now waive to look 
 at two — Service and Reward. 
 
 FIRST — CHRISTIAN SERVICE. 
 
 « 
 
 nt : thou 
 ver many 
 
 I please 
 dgment 
 by our 
 e, is no 
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 lent — a 
 by the 
 nay not 
 nt may 
 fhteous 
 :'s ap- 
 Paul's 
 there- 
 3ted of 
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 a re- 
 to de 
 of the 
 gment 
 The 
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 ingan 
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 it 
 
 Well done^ thou good and faithful servant.^' The term 
 ^^ good^^ seems to refer to the moral and essential qualities of 
 the person of the servant of God ; the word "faithful " to the 
 fidelity and loyalty of the servant to His service. The principles 
 which go to form a faithful man's character may be easily 
 shown. His will must be in unison with the Divine will, his 
 mind with the Divine mind, his life with the Divine law, and 
 he must be filled with the spirit of the Master. The quality of 
 the servant and the service are interconnected. One must be 
 good to be faithful. 
 
 I St. Good and faithful service has respect to tJie Motives of 
 service. Motive is the spring of all mental and moral action. 
 God has made us susceptible of outside impressions. We are 
 affected by considerations of injury or advantage. We are free, 
 but we are not independent of influences. If we will it, we are 
 above the influence of circumstances to control or compel us to 
 do wrong ; but circumstances are powerful persuasives to right 
 or wrong. They have no original power over us, but they 
 themselves must pay tribute to the regal will, but with this 
 reservation : their influence is great, and it is this balancing of 
 motives — the rejection of this and acknowledgment of that by 
 the soul in its daily assize — which moulds the character, the 
 action, the life. Therefore, motive really lays bare the life — 
 the man. It is the hidden but real principle of service, so that 
 in judging of any work God must have respect to the motives 
 which led to it. A work may be good in itself, and bring much 
 succour and blessing to others ; but if it spring from a fugitive, 
 earthly emotion, instead of a strong and pure Christian motive, 
 it cannot be approved of God. It is when the eye is full of 
 light that the service is full of acceptance. How full of solemn 
 warning is this reflection ! So much of our actual service as 
 commands itself to God shall be accepted of Him ; no more. 
 What a reduction there will have to be made ! How much that 
 now appears will be wanting then ! All that we are doing from 
 
 X 
 
214 
 
 SERVICE AND REWARD. 
 
 H 
 
 I I 
 
 force of habit, or custom, or to gratify a miserable ambition, or 
 from profession, will be wanting then, and when so much will 
 have been taken away from our work, how much will remain 
 when it comes back to us after having been approved of by the 
 Lord ? God will accept the gold amid the dross, but only the 
 gold. What a change of places this judging by motives will 
 bring ! Last first and first last ; men from obscurity rising, and 
 men from high places going out of sight. And what consolation 
 it will bring to true motive. When we try to serve Him from 
 a pure motive and fail, the work alone fails, not the motive ; 
 when we try to serve Him amidst circumscribed means, the 
 thing may look small to men, but great to Him who looks at 
 all the doer tried to do. The rich may give largely ; but the 
 poor, who do all they can, shall pass for munificent givers. 
 Men who would die for Christ, if there was no alternative but 
 to die or deny, having the martyr's spirit, shall receive the 
 martyr's crown. What is in our heart that we would do if capa- 
 city or circumstances allowed, shall be accepted as if done. How- 
 ever fruitless the wish, and though it may seem to end in dis- 
 appointment, Jesus whispers, " It was well, for it was in thine 
 heart." He who is quick to detect fault is also quick to dis- 
 cover excellence. »• 
 
 2nd. Good and faithful service has respect to the extent oj 
 service. All true service must begin in entire self-dedication to 
 God. Without this self-surrender, a man is nothing before 
 God ; he is not even entered upon His service, and where 
 this true coesecration takes place we must serve Him to 
 the extent of possibility and requirement. At whatever 
 cost of labor or suffering or sacrifice, not conferring with 
 flesh and blood, but mortifying the fiesh, and if need be the 
 affections also, going forward amid evil report and good in 
 the practice of the required self-denial ; faithful to the ex- 
 tent and the end. I am afraid the standard of Christian 
 service is too often lowered and explained according to 
 the opinion and actions of the Christian community around 
 us, instead of by the mind of Christ. You have the clearest 
 confirmation of this in the laudatory judgments so often passed 
 on Christian service within our observation. Let a man main- 
 tain a good reputation, conform to the observances of his Church, 
 and give the influence of his name and position, and wealth to 
 
SERVICE AND REWARD. 
 
 215 
 
 bition, or 
 fiuch will 
 11 remain 
 of by the 
 only the 
 tives will 
 sing, and 
 nsolation 
 [im from 
 motive ; 
 Jans, the 
 looks at 
 but the 
 t givers, 
 itive but 
 iiye the 
 ) if capa- 
 ?. How- 
 1 in dis- 
 in thine 
 to dis- 
 
 TENT OJ 
 
 ation to 
 before 
 where 
 [im to 
 
 hatever 
 with 
 be the 
 
 ood in 
 
 the ex- 
 
 iristian 
 
 ing to 
 
 iround 
 
 learest 
 
 passed 
 main- 
 
 hurch, 
 
 alth to 
 
 % 
 
 the cause of truth, and he will be honored and distinguished, 
 and in death pronounced faithful, confident that the judgment 
 will be ratified by the unseen Master. Faithful^ although his 
 social integrity and Church observance were never allied to any 
 deep spiritual feeling ; faithful^ though what he gave to Christ 
 was little compared with what he kept back for himself ; ^/M- 
 /w/, though he expended little to bless the world compared with 
 what he expended in personal and family indulgences ; faithful 
 though he was never so eager in the service of Christ as in the 
 pursuit of his own gain ; faithful^ though he never sacrificed 
 apparently his pleasures or his ornaments or the smiles of men 
 or suffered anything for the Master, whose universal law of 
 service is, " If any man will be my disciple let him deny him- 
 self"; faithful^ though he was never like those men in days of 
 yore held up as patterns of service, as though Christ did not re- 
 quire from us the same kind or amount of service that he once 
 demanded; as though He could be satisfied with a different and 
 inferior service ; but we know that Christ is unchangeable, and 
 He has given but one law to all His servants. The spirit and 
 essence of His demands are the same for all time. 
 
 3rd, Good and faithful service has respect to the lAh^niE.^ of 
 setvice. The shape or form which a service takes is a very im- 
 portant feature, because thereby we fulfil the particular and 
 specific end of our being. Every man has his mission and his 
 ministry ; every life has its service. Each has his sphere in 
 which to move and act, and no one can do the work of another. 
 Nor can any one with the Bible and providential arrangements 
 open, be at a loss to know what line of action to pursue. The 
 path open to one may be closed to another because he is not 
 qualified to enter upon it. As in the universe of matter the 
 atom has its place as well as the planet, or as in the universe of 
 life the insect has its place as well as the seraph, so in the 
 Christian Church each has his sphere and all have their work. 
 The one talent can and must be employed as well as the ten^ 
 though each is responsible according to his capacity and 
 position. It is honest, personal service the world needs. The 
 Church must give ; the Master demands. Every one must seek 
 to answer the Divine idea of his life and powers. 
 
 SECOND — THE REWARD OF CHRISTIAN SERVICE. 
 
 ^ " Well done." The question may be asked : " Is it fitting 
 
2l6 
 
 SERVICE AND REWARD. 
 
 and right that Christ's servants should serve Him with their 
 eyes fixed on the promised reward ?" Yes ; because those 
 rewards are moral distinctions and possessions, determined as 
 the work has been, and indifference to such a reward indicates 
 a nature insensible to moral beauty and goodness. Do you say 
 that you will be content anywhere in heaven ? — with the very 
 lowest seat ? All you want is religion enough to get just inside 
 the portal ? You are regardless of the vessel if you can only 
 get safe to land even on a broken piece of wreck ? Is that re- 
 ligion which renders one careless about the life's holiness, the 
 heart's renewal, and the life's jewel-gathering service ? Is that 
 Christian humility to make so little of what the Lord makes 
 the subject of such exceeding great and precious promises ? 
 Why has Christ said so much and made us so capable of these 
 rewards? Why has he given us the love of power and distinc- 
 tion, which is to receive its highest gratification in the heavenly 
 recompense ? Not that we may close our eyes upon them, and 
 account them unworthy of our ambition, but to stimulate our zeal 
 to the highest degree. It is not humility, it is not self-denial, to 
 be indifferent to Christ's rewards. It is immoral, it is un- 
 christian. 
 
 I St. One reward suggested is the new and attt active view of 
 death presented. This suggestion you have in the words : 
 " Enter thou in'^ ** O," you say : " is it possible that death, the 
 source of so much loneliness and separation and suffering, can 
 have any other aspect than one of grief and despair ?" I say, 
 in the light of this utterance, it has the most fascinating 
 feature. The two-fold question that has so shadowed death 
 is: " Is death the extinction of being, or have we a conscious 
 existence beyond it ?" and, if we live hereafter, *' What lies 
 beyond in that unseen world?" Ihe first question was 
 asked not merely by the patriarch, but has been repeated 
 friendship and philosophy ever since. ** Man giveth up the 
 ghost, and where is he ?" Is that corpse he^ and has he passed 
 out of existence forever ? or has he a conscious spirit that exists 
 disembodied? The second question, asked by the Psalmist, 
 has often been asked by our misgiving hearts : " Shall the dead 
 praise thee ?" or are all the promises of ultimate blessedness s^ 
 only a dream, unsanctioned by anything beyond? To these \ 
 questions these words return the fullest answer : " Enter thou 
 
SERVICE AND REWARD. 
 
 217 
 
 th their 
 5e those 
 lined as 
 ndicates 
 you say 
 he very 
 it inside 
 :an only 
 that re- 
 less, the 
 Is that 
 makes 
 omises ? 
 of these 
 distinc- 
 keavenly 
 em, and 
 our zeal 
 enial, to 
 t is un- 
 
 7<iew of 
 words : 
 ath, the 
 ing, can 
 I say, 
 cinating 
 d death 
 •nscious 
 hat lies 
 on was 
 epeated 
 up the 
 ! passed 
 It exists 
 salmist, 
 e dead 
 edness 
 these 
 \er thou 
 
 in" There is a thou that survives death and exists beyond it. 
 That body laid aside is mine, but not me. It is to me what the 
 telescope is to the astronomer— the house to the tenant. The 
 telescope may be broken, but the astronomer lives to get a bet- 
 ter one ; the house may fall to ruins, but the inhabitants sur- 
 vive and step into a splendid mansion ; so that thou^ the real 
 man, outlives the apparent defeat and ruin of death, and enters 
 into a more glorious universe and a more blessed state. There 
 are pangs of birth that men call death. Through the rewards 
 of Christianity, death has changed its essential character. Its 
 sorrows are n6 longer the hopeless cries of exile, but the groan- 
 ings of the child longing for home; Its partings being but the 
 prelude to more perfect re-unions, death is no longer a dreaded 
 end, but the day of deliverance and manifestation of the sons of 
 God. Death is the step to life ; in dying we begin to live. 
 The tomb is no longer life's outer gate, but heaven's inlet. The 
 demon is changed to an angel, the dark vale to a glory-land, 
 fragrant with aramanthine flowers, the saddest and most shud- 
 dered at of sights into a form of celestial bf auty, and very help- 
 lessness and decay rise into grandeur and heroism and eternal 
 victory. 
 
 2nd. The reward secures to the Christian servant the most per- 
 fect felicity. " Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.'^ This is one 
 of those utterances we can never fully understand. It is too 
 pure and blessed and sublime for thought or word to explain. 
 We sometimes ask : " Is it possible that the holiest saint shall 
 ever dwell in the joy of the Lord ? that the best of men in the 
 perfect land shall ever thrill with God's own rapture ? Why, the 
 very splendor of the universe is but the shadow of Him, the in- 
 tensest joy of a life but a faint pulsation of His blessedness ; 
 and can man in any state or world ever drink of God's higher 
 joy, ever throb with God's holiest life, ever stand unscathed in 
 the light of God's divinest glory ?" These words remind you 
 that entering into the joy of the Lord is not only one of, but 
 the chief felicity of heaven ; its highest hope, its promised reward, 
 its perfection of beauty, its heaven of heavens. That joy is the 
 great object of their love, the great theme of their converse, the 
 great burden of their song. In that painless world, where there 
 is nothing to disturb the harmony, distress the heart, darken 
 the prospect, violate the friendshipiy pr cadden the home, saints 
 

 •i 
 
 Ml 
 
 i 
 
 2l8 
 
 SERVICE AND REWARD. 
 
 shall dwell in the joy of the Lord. In that happy land whose 
 fields have no blight, whose landscapes have no defect, whose 
 skies have no clouds, whose gales have no storm— there the re- 
 deemed have entered into the joy of the Lord, and who shall 
 describe the rich and kingly rapture of that joy, so unselfish 
 and benevolent, and free, and gladdening, and stainless and 
 perfect ? 
 
 jrd. The reward includes the highest exaltation and dignity. 
 ^*Thou hast been faithful over a few things^! will make thee ruler 
 over many things." The question may be asked : " Will there 
 be anything answering to this in the heavenly state ?" We ad- 
 mit that there is much that is figurative and emblematic here, 
 as might be expected when such a world is represented ; but 
 laying aside all imagery, there may be the most literal fulfilment 
 of this expectation in that land where saints are to be kings and 
 priests forever; where racers reach the prize; where stewards are 
 made princes; where warriors are crowned in victory; and where 
 the Master says : **To him that overcometh will I give to sit 
 with me upon my throne." The inseparable connection be- 
 tween being faithful and being made rulers expressive of the 
 principle, may go far to explain the mystery. It shows you that 
 it is not a novel idea but a mere truism, as old and common as 
 Christianity. The Churches throughout all ages have been 
 chanting it in that old paean, " If we be dead with Him we shall 
 also live with Him ; if we suffer with Him, we shall also reign 
 with Him; if we have fellowship with His sorrows, we shall 
 also be glorified together." The connection is one of the most 
 blessed verities of our faith, "Be thou faithful unto death and 
 I will give thee a crown of life." A true and faithful servant 
 shall receive the royal gift and reflect the royal splendor in the 
 world to come. The greatness, the eminence, thv^ distinction, 
 the dignity is indescribable. Sitting upon thrones of glory and 
 wearing royal diadems and waving royal palms and robed in 
 royal splendor, they shall indeed be exalted and be made very 
 high. 
 
 4th. The reward culminates in the commendation and eulo- 
 gium of the Eternal Goi. " Well done." This commendation 
 is the more blessed because it is pronounced by an infallible 
 judge — One who knows the end from the beginning, 'i'he 
 nearest earthly friends may misunderstand a faithful man, and 
 
SERVICE AND REWARD. 
 
 219 
 
 be partial or erroneous in their estimate of him, but the Lord 
 cannot misinterpret a man. Then too, Goc's commendation is 
 of Him who has the sole right to our service and homage, and 
 who alone can reward it. The reasons of this " Well done" 
 may be manifold, according to the all-embracing views of that 
 God who sees the wide-spread and beneficial effect of faithful 
 service. He may say, " Well done," because of a moral wealth 
 that goes out from the services of a faithful servant. You re- 
 member such service enters into the moral life of the race, bene- 
 ficially affecting the fortunes of the world to the end of time, 
 so that when the memory of the servant shall be forgotten, his 
 work shall linger as the salt of the earth. The reformer may 
 die, but not the reformation ; the martyr may perish, but not 
 his testimony to the faith ; the preacher may reach his grave, 
 but those he has taught to love God wil! fear Him still — ^all 
 this God observes. Or He may say, " Well done," because in 
 that servant the whole redeeming plan is fulfilled. Or He may 
 say, "Well done," because of the perfect mastery over 
 Satan and his work of ruin thus gained by him that over- 
 cometh. That " Well done," from whatever cause expressed, is 
 the Climax of the rewards of eternity.