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 JneuNT -^ 
 
 A^ERJES oFDEV^0TIO|)/\Lr^EDlT/VTI0[^S 
 
d? PRINCETON, N. J. <f> 
 
 Shelf.. 
 
 BV 4832 .M34 1886 ^ 
 Matheson, George, 1842-1906 
 Moments on the mount 
 
 
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MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
MOMEKTS ON THE MOUiM: 
 
 A SERIES OF 
 BE VOTIONA L M EDIT A TIONS, 
 
 BY 
 
 REV. GEORGE MATHESOX, M.A., D.D. 
 
 MINISTER OF THE PARISH uF INNELLAN. 
 
 ^ernnD OETiitton. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 A. C. ARMSTRONG & SOX, 714 BROADWAY. 
 
 1886. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Theee are two motives wliicli have influenced 
 us in the production of this little book. We 
 have sought, on the one hand, to supply aids 
 to devotion either for the use of the family or 
 of the individual, and on the other, to furnish 
 points of suggestion to the student who is 
 a prospective preacher. Perhaps it may be 
 thought that these two ains are incongruous, 
 and it would be too much to hope that in both 
 we have succeeded ; yet devotion is not the 
 absence of thought, and thought is not neces- 
 sarily the absence of devotion. At all events, 
 the presence in the mind of two so reactionary 
 aims may have had the beneficial result of 
 preserving these meditations either from the 
 fault of too much abstractness or from the sin 
 
 of too little depth. 
 
 G. M. 
 
 Manse, Innetxan, 18S4. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. QUIET MOMENTS . , . 
 
 II. UNSELFISH MOMENTS 
 
 III. THE BRIGHT LIGHT IN THE CLOUDS 
 
 IV. THE MYSTERY OF GOd's LEADING 
 V. THE TROUBLE BROUGHT BY CHRIST 
 
 VI. god's SYMPATHETIC KNOWLEDGE 
 
 VII. INTERRUPTED COMMUNION 
 
 Vin. THE VISION OF THE STAR 
 
 IX. WALKING WITH GOD 
 
 X. god's DWELLING-PLACE . 
 
 XL THE WILDERNESS AFTER JORDAN 
 
 XII. TEMPTATION 
 
 XIIL CANA OF GALILEE . 
 
 XIV. HEAVEN WITHOUT A TEMPLE 
 
 XV. NO MORE SEA 
 
 XVI. WHERE TO MEET WITH GOD 
 
 XVIL THE FIRE OF GOD . 
 
 XVIIL CHRISTIAN ASPIRATION . 
 
 PAOB 
 I 
 
 4 
 
 6 
 
 ■ 8 
 
 lO 
 12 
 
 14 
 i6 
 i8 
 
 20 
 
 23 
 26 
 29 
 32 
 
 34 
 37 
 39 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 XIX. Christ's sympathy 
 XX. god's -warning 
 
 XXI. THE GROUND OF IMMORTALITY 
 XXII. REVELATION .... 
 XXin. THE INWARDNESS OF REVELATION 
 XXIV. DESERT EXPERIENCES 
 XXV. VISION IN OLD AGE 
 XXVI. THE THORN .... 
 XXVII. THE GLORY OF SUFFERING 
 XXVIII. THE POWER OF CHRIST's SACRIFICE 
 XXIX. THE SECRET OF PEACE 
 XXX. THE OMNIPRESENT GOD . 
 XXXI. THE SUPERNATURAL IN THE NATURAL 
 XXXIL THE GLORY OF MORNING 
 XXXIIL THE GLORY OF CHRIST . 
 XXXIV. THE SPIRITUAL YEAR 
 XXXV. THE LIVING WAY . 
 XXXVL THE PROGRESS OF THE DIVINE LIFE 
 XXXVII. LOVE CONSTRAINING 
 XXXVIII. HUMAN INSTRUMENTALITY 
 XXXIX. THE CHOICE OF MANHOOD 
 
 XL. AN UNSELFISH SEEKING FOR REWARD 
 XLL THE VOICE IN THE TABERNACLE 
 XLII. TARRYING UNDER THE CLOUD 
 XLIII. THE VALUE OF PAIN 
 XLIV. SPIRITUAL RESURRECTION 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 XLV. RELIGIOUS FEELING AND RELIGIOUS THOUGHT 
 XLVI. THE BLESSEDNESS OF DIVIXE VISION 
 XLVIL THE IMMEDIATE VISION OP GOD 
 XLVIII. THE KEY TO GOd's SILENCE 
 XLIX. PEACE BETTER THAN JOY 
 
 L. OBEDIENCE BETTER THAN SACRIFICE 
 LI. THE CURE FOR PAIN 
 LIT. god's promise OF PROSPERITY 
 
 LiiL sin's first manifestation 
 
 LIV. HOW TO KNOW GOD's LOVE 
 LV. THE BOLDNESS OF CHRISTIAN HOPE 
 LVL SPIRITUAL WEANING 
 LVIL THE UNIVERSAL HARMONY 
 LVIIL CHRISTIANITY NOT ASCETICISM 
 LIX. CHRISTIAN CHARITY 
 
 Lx. Christ's sense op mystery . 
 
 LXI. the knocking OP the SPIRIT 
 LXII. MOMENTS OP ANTICIPATION 
 LXIIL WAYSIDE SEEDS 
 LXIV. HUMAN UNREST 
 LXV. THE FIGHT OP FAITH 
 LXVL THE RECOGNITION OP CHRIST . 
 LXVIL THE STAGES OP SPIRITUAL REST 
 LXVIII. THE ROAD TO GREATNESS 
 LXIX. THE DARK THINGS OP LIFE 
 LXX. THE ARM OF THE LORD . 
 
 p.xr.E 
 
 io6 
 
COXTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 LXXI. SPIRITUAL ADMIRATION . 
 LXXII. THE PROVIDENCE OF SORROW . 
 l.XXIII. THE SONG OF SACRIFICE . 
 LXXIV, CHRISTIAN FREEDOM 
 LXXV. THE PRESERVATION OF PERSONAL 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN LIFE . 
 LXXVL ADAPTATION 
 LXXVII. THE BUILDING OP THE SOUL . 
 LXXVIII. THE HELP OF GOD 
 LXXIX. DIVINE EDUCATION 
 
 LXXX. THE SECRET OF THE LORD 
 LXXXI. IN THE HANDS OF GOD . 
 LXXXII. THE REVEALING PAST 
 LXXXIIL THE ANSWER TO CHRIST's PRAYER 
 LXXXIV. FAITH AND KNOWLEDGE . 
 LXXXV. A PROVIDENTIAL ABSENCE OF GOD 
 LXXXVI. SELF-COMMUNION . 
 LXXXVII. SPIRITUAL GROWTH 
 r^XXXVIII. THE PROMISE OF HEAVEN , 
 
 LXXXIX. THE GLORY OF DIVINE LOVE . 
 XC. STUBBORN SINS 
 XCI. THE STRUGGLE SUCCEEDING LIGHT 
 XCII. WHAT THE ANGELS STUDY 
 XCIIL THE REASON FOR BURDEN-BEARING 
 XCIV. THE CAUSE OF UNCHARITABLENE.'JS 
 XCY. THE MEMORY OF THE HEART . 
 
 PAGE 
 
 176 
 
 179 
 
 18.' 
 184 
 187 
 
 198 
 
 2or 
 204 
 207 
 210 
 213 
 216 
 219 
 221 
 223 
 226 
 229 
 232 
 
 235 
 238 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CM AI'. 
 
 XCVI. HOW TO SHINE 
 
 XCVII. THE HEAVENLY IN THE KAKl'HI 
 XCVIII. DEATH .... 
 XCIX. LIFE .... 
 
 C. JESUS ONLY 
 CI. THE GOODWILL OF THE BUSH 
 CII. THE CARES OF GOD . 
 cm. THE BLASTS OF ADVERSITY 
 CIV. THE DISINTERESTEDNESS OF GOD's CHOICE 
 
 CV. ISAAC .... 
 CVI. CHRISTIAN PROMOTION, 
 CVII. RELIGIOUS ATTRACTIVENESS 
 CVIIL SPIRITUAL FEARLESSNESS . 
 
 241 
 244 
 247 
 
 250 
 
 256 
 
 262 
 265 
 267 
 
 270 
 
 273 
 
 277 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 QUIET MOMENTS. 
 
 " And ihey heard the voice of the Lord God walking in. 
 the garden in the cool of the day" — Gen. iii. 8. 
 
 It is only in the cool of the day that I can 
 hear Thy footsteps, my God. Thou art 
 ever walking in the garden. Thy presence is 
 abroad everywhere and always ; but it is not 
 everywhere nor always that I can hear Thee 
 passing by. The burden and heat of the day 
 are too strono- for me. The struQ^^^les of life 
 excite me, the ambitions of life perturb me, the 
 glitter of life dazzles me ; it is all thunder 
 and earthquake and fire. But when I myself 
 am still I catch Thy still small voice, and then 
 I know that Thou art God. Thy peace can 
 
2 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 only speak to my peacefulness, Thy rest caQ 
 oiAy be audible to my calm ; the harmony of 
 Thy tread cannot be heard by the discord of 
 my soul. Therefore, betimes I would be alone 
 with Thee, away from the heat and the battle. 
 I would feel the cool breath of Thy Spirit, that 
 I may be refreshed once more for the strife. I 
 would be fanned by the breezes of heaven, that 
 I may resume the diisty road and the dolorous 
 way. Not to avoid ihem do I come to Thee, 
 but that I may be able more perfectly to bear 
 them. Let me hear Thy voice in the garden 
 in the cool of the day. 
 
 II. 
 
 UNSELFISH MOMENTS. 
 
 " A/:d the Lord turned the captivity of Job when he prayed 
 for his friends." — Job xlii. lo. 
 
 It is only in moments of unseitishness that 1 
 am free. The iron chain that binds me is 
 the thought of myself and of my own 
 calamities ; if I could but be liberated from 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 3 
 
 that, my captivity would be turned in an hour. 
 
 If, under the shadow of the cloud, I could but 
 
 remember that the shadow of the same cloud 
 
 hovers over my brother-man, the vision of his 
 
 shadow would destroy mine. In the moment 
 
 of prayer for him my burden would fall from 
 
 me. I would seek it, and lo ! it would not be 
 
 found ; it would be as if it had not been. 
 
 Thou Divine Spirit of self-forgetful ness, Spirit 
 
 of Christ, Spirit of the Cross, it is in Thee 
 
 alone that I can find this freedom. Liberate 
 
 me from myself, and instead of the iron chain, 
 
 give me a chain of gold. It is not the chain 
 
 that lowers me, it is the material of which it is 
 
 made ; it is not the sorrow that makes me a 
 
 captive, it is the centring of the sorrow round 
 
 my own life. Help me to take up the burdens 
 
 of others. Help me to know what it is to have 
 
 rest in bearing an additional yoke. Thy yoke, 
 
 the yoke of humanity. Help me to feel what 
 
 it is to have peace in carrying a new care, Thy 
 
 care, the care of universal love. Help me to 
 
 learn what it is to be transfigured in the prayer 
 
 for others ; to have the countenance shining as 
 
 the light, and the raiment white and glisterino- 
 
.4 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 My fetters shall be wings of sympathy whei-eby 
 I shall pass into tlie heart of the world, and 
 when I have reached the heart of the world the 
 fetters shall fall ; my captivity shall be turned 
 back when I have prayed for my captive 
 friends. 
 
 III. 
 
 THE BRIGHT LIGHT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 " Afid flow men see not the brig/it light which is in the 
 cIoudsT — Job xxxvii. 21. 
 
 My soul, the greatest truth about thee is that 
 which thou hast not learned — the secret of 
 thine own joy, the source of the light that is in 
 thee. Thou art seeking thy light in the dis- 
 persion of the cloud, and all the time Thy light 
 is in the cloud. Thou art like the old patri- 
 arch of Uz. Thou art askins^ God for an 
 explanation of thy darkness, and thou art 
 expecting an answer from all quarters but one 
 — the darkness itself. Yet it is there, and 
 nowhere else, that the secret lies. Thy cloud 
 is thy fire-chariot ; thy trial is thy triumpli. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 5 
 
 The best gift of divine love to tLee has been 
 thy pain ; it has taught thee what is the 
 difFerence between beinsf virtuous ;iud beino- 
 innocent. Thou hast been self-deceived, my 
 soul. Thou hast been down in the valley of 
 the shadow, and thou hast been looking up to 
 the calm heavens to find thy God. The calm 
 heavens have not answered thee, and thou hast 
 said, " Verily Thou art a God that hidest Thy- 
 self." Yet all tlie time thy God has been be- 
 side thee in the valley, a sharer in the shadow 
 of thy life. Thou hast been lookinor too far to 
 find Him ;" thou has cried to the heavens when 
 He was at the very door. He was speaking in 
 the voices that seemed to deny His presence ; 
 He was manifested in the shades that appeared 
 to veil His form. He came to thee in the 
 night, that His glory might be concealed. He 
 came to thee unaccompanied and unadorned, 
 that He might know whether He were loved 
 for Himself alone. The night under which 
 thou hast murmured has been hiding in its 
 folds a wondrous treasure — the very presence 
 of the King of kings ; wherefore didst thou 
 not see the bridit light in the cloud ? 
 
6 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF GOD'S LEADING. 
 
 " God led them not through the way of the land of the 
 Philistifies, although that was near . . . but God led 
 the people about through the way of the wilderness I' — 
 ExoD. xiii. 17-18. 
 
 Why is it that I am not suffered to come to 
 Thee by the near way ? wherefore am I forced 
 to seek the promised land through the longest 
 road — the road of the wilderness? There are 
 times when I almost seemed to have reached 
 Thee at a bound. There are flashes of thouo^ht 
 in which I appear to have escaped the wilder- 
 ness and to have entered already into Thy rest. 
 I am caught up to meet Thee in the air, and 
 the world fades away in the far distance, and I 
 am alone with Thyself. But the rapture and 
 the solitude are short-lived. The world re- 
 turns again with double power, and a cloud 
 falls over the transfiguration glory ; and at the 
 very moment when I am saying, " Methinks it 
 is good to be here," a voice whispers in my 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 7 
 
 car, "Go back, and take tlie journey tbrougli 
 the wilderness." 
 
 My soul, thou must not murmur at that 
 messasre : it is a messasre of love to thee, and 
 a mcssagfe of love to the wilderness. Thou 
 hast need of the wilderness, and the wilder- 
 ness has need of thee. There are thorns in 
 the desert which must be gathered ere she 
 can rejoice and blossom as the rose, and the 
 gathering of her thorns shall be the gathering 
 of flowers to thee. Thou canst not do without 
 the thorn. To be caught up to meet thy Lord 
 in the air would be too much exaltation ; it 
 would lift thee above the sympathies of the 
 toiling crowd. Better to meet thy Lord in 
 the wilderness than in the air. Thou wilt 
 find him travelling by the long road — the 
 road of Gethsemane and Calvary. Join thy- 
 self to the journey of the Son of man. Help 
 Him to carry His burden of human care over 
 the wastes of time. Enter into fellowship 
 with that cross of His which was the pain of 
 seeing pain, and verily love sliall make the 
 long road short ; thy feet shall be as the feet 
 of the roe ; the crooked shall be made straight, 
 
8 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 and the rough places shall be made plain ; for 
 the glory of the Lord ahall be revealed, and 
 the glory of the Lord is love. 
 
 V. 
 
 THE TROUBLE BROUGHT BY CHRIST. 
 
 " W/ien Herod the king had heard these things, he 7vas 
 troubled.'^ — Matt. ii. 3. 
 
 There were four kinodoms conoreo^ated at the 
 Christian dawn — the king^dom of nature, the 
 kino^dom of knowledo^e, the kinodom of world- 
 liness, and the kino^dom of unworldliness. The 
 kinQ^dom of nature came in a star, the kins- 
 dom of knowledo^e in the Mawi, the kins'dom 
 of worldliness in Herod, and the kingdom of 
 unworldliness in the child-Christ. Only one 
 of the kingdoms was troubled by the child. 
 Nature did not fear Him, knowledge did not 
 shun Him ; Herod alone trembled at His 
 com in Of. 
 
 My soul, art thou afraid of the coming of 
 Christ into thy life ? Dost thou fear that He 
 will narrow thee t Nay, but He will narrow 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 9 
 
 that wliicli narrows thoe. He will not destroy 
 thy love of nature, for He is the crown of 
 nature. He will not dispute tli}^ right to 
 knowledge, for He is the end of knowledge ; 
 but He will expel from thy heart the Herod 
 that imprisons thee. He will deny the 
 power of Herod to make thee happy, and 
 He will prove His denial even by thy 
 pain. Wouldst thou rather be without that 
 pain ? Hast tliou forgotten the pool of Beth- 
 esda ? An angel came down to trouble the 
 waters, and then the waters were powerful. 
 Thou, too, shalt be powerful after thou hast 
 been troubled. Thinkest thou that the still- 
 ness of primeval chaos was a calm 1 There 
 was no calm till the Spirit moved. Only 
 w^ien the face of the waters is ruffled by the 
 breath of the life Divine is the mandate truly 
 heard, " Let there be light." 
 
10 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 VI. 
 
 COD'S SYMPATHETIC KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 *' T/ie Lord knoweth tlie way of the righteous.^' — 
 Ps. i. 6. 
 
 Does He not know all things ? Why limit 
 thus the range of His omniscience ? Is there 
 anything that can be hid from the search of 
 His piercing gaze ? Is not the way of the 
 wicked also known to Him ? — known so well 
 that He has travelled over the far country to 
 seek and to save that which was lost. Yes ; 
 but there is a sense in which He only knows 
 the good. His eyes behold, His eyelids try all 
 that belongs to the eye ; but there is a know- 
 ledo^e which belons^s not to the eye but to the 
 heart, the knowledge which men call sym- 
 pathy. Hundreds know me as a man, but 
 only my child knows me as a father. Even 
 so the heavenly Father has a special know- 
 ledge of His child. His knowledo^e is his 
 nearness ; it is the attraction of a kindred 
 sympathy, the gravitation of love. He looks 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. n 
 
 into the glass of our Immanity aud He beholds 
 there, in miniature, the brightness of His own 
 glory, the express image of His own peisoii, 
 the Christ that is to be, and when He sees it, 
 He rejoices with an exceeding great joy. 
 
 My soul, wilt thou fulfil this joy of thy 
 Father's heart ? He waits to behold in thee 
 the impress of His own likeness. He sits as a 
 refiner of silver till He sees in thee the re- 
 flection of His own image, and when He 
 sees His image reflected He knows that the 
 refining is complete. Wilt thou grant Him 
 the joy of that knowledge ? Wilt thou let 
 Him behold a Christ in thee — Himself in thee ? 
 Wilt thou let Him feel that there is a heart in 
 sympathy with His heart, a life in unison with 
 His life, a will in harmony wdth His will ? 
 Then thou shalt have the joy of all joys — the 
 joy of making glad the heart of God. Com- 
 munion is dear to the spirit of the heavenly 
 Father ; for the spirit of the Father is love, and 
 love seeketh not her own. It cannot rest in 
 aught but the vision of its object ; it must 
 speak, and it must be answered again ; it must 
 know even as it is known. 
 
12 MOMENTS OX THE MOUNT. 
 
 VII. 
 
 INTERRUPTED COMMUNION. 
 
 "Go, get thee down ; for thy people, which thou brougJitcst 
 put of t lie land of Egypt, have con-upted themselves." — 
 ExoD. xxxii. 7. 
 
 " Go, get thee clown ; " it was surely a hard, 
 an unlikely mandate. AVas it not a command 
 to go forth from the secret of God's pavilion, 
 from the Mount of Divine vision and Divine 
 communion into the vision of things that were 
 not Divine, into communion with things that 
 were not holy ? You and I have been forced 
 at times to feel what Moses felt. We have 
 had moments of rapture, in which we have 
 been allowed to stand on the very top of the 
 mountain and to see, as it were, the face of 
 God unveiled — moments when His countenance 
 was radiant as the light and His raiment 
 dazzling as the sunlit snow. But presently a 
 cloud has fallen uver the vision and the glory 
 has vanished from the scene. The rapture is 
 turned into coldness, and the mountain sinks 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 13 
 
 into a common plain, filled with the concourse 
 of the multitude, and echoinof with the cries of 
 human struoole • a voice has sounded in mine 
 ear and said, " Go, get thee down." 
 
 Yes, my soul, and has it not brought to thine 
 ear the reason of its sounding ? Why has it 
 commanded thee to quit the glorious mountain 
 for the common plain ? It is because it is a 
 common plain. It is because on that plain 
 there is a concourse of living beings who are 
 unfit for the glorious mountain. They have 
 no vision from a height, and therefore they are 
 oppressed by life's labour and its ladenness. 
 They want some one to heal them, some one 
 to lift them, some one to inspire them with the 
 breath of a presence that has dwelt aloft. 
 Thou mayest be that presence. If thou hast 
 gazed on the face of God, thou hast a mes- 
 meric passport into the heart of thy brother 
 man. He shall lift up his eyes unto the hills, 
 whence comcth tJiine aid ; make no tarrying 
 to 120 down, m\ soul. 
 
14 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT 
 
 viir. 
 
 THE VISION OF THE STAR. 
 
 " IVAe/i they had heard the kitig, they departed ; and, lo, 
 the star, which they saw i?i the east, went before them." 
 — Matt. ii. 9, 
 
 Where Lad the star been while they tarried 
 in the city of Herod ? Had it ceased to shiue 
 in the sky ? Had it been extinguished when 
 it had led them to the palace of the great 
 king ? Nay, it was still there, but they had 
 lost sight of it ; it was hidden by the streets 
 and buildings of the world. The wise men 
 had entered into an uncongenial atmosphere, 
 into a scene where wisdom did not reifjn. 
 They had ceased to see tlie glory of the vision 
 that had led them forth rejoicing ; it had been 
 dimmed by the mist of worldliness. But now 
 they had left the world, and the star again 
 appeared. It had been waiting for them all 
 along in the pure heavens, and when their 
 eyes had lost the impurity of earth they 
 beheld its calm light once more. 
 
MUMEXTS UN THE MOUNT. 15 
 
 So is it ofttimes with thee, my soul. Thou 
 criest out that tlie glory of other days has 
 departed, aud that the star of Betldeliem has 
 set, when all the time it is thou that hast 
 departed from the glory. The star has never 
 left the sky, but thou hast lost sight of the sky. 
 Thy vision has become bounded by the forms 
 and pageants of what men call the great world, 
 and thou canst not recall the glow of other 
 days. But if thou shalt depart from the con- 
 tact of worldliness thy star shall reappear. If 
 thou shalt leave the form and the pageants 
 thou shalt see the calm light that made thy 
 earth a heaven. The glory of thy East shall 
 be given back to thee — the glory of the days 
 when thou wert young, and when the heart of 
 thy youth bounded as the roe. Thy star 
 waits for thee, waits to lead thee to the man- 
 ger of the child-Christ ; and when thou shalt 
 reach the humility of Bethlehem thou shalt be 
 thyself a child again — a child in heart, a man 
 in wisdom. 
 
l6 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 IX. 
 
 WALKING WITH GOD. 
 
 " And all the days of Enoch were thfee hii?idrcd sixty and 
 five years : and Enoch walked with God : and he 
 was not ; for God tooJi hini.^'' — Gen. v. 23, 24. 
 
 Great men, it bath been said, have short 
 biographies. So is it with Enoch. He is the 
 greatest figure of that old world, head and 
 shoulders above all the antediluvians, yet his 
 was the shortest life of all. The number of his 
 outward years does not attain to the number 
 of the years of his fathers ; there is less to tell 
 of him than of them. Why is there less to 
 tell ? It is because he is greater than they. 
 His life was more inward, and therefore it 
 was more hidden. The part that lived most 
 intensely was just the part which men do not 
 see — the spirit, the heart, the soul. His life 
 was hid with God, because in its essence it was 
 the life of God — love. It was too inward a 
 life to make an im^tression on the world ; its 
 walk was divine, and therefore it was deemed 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 17 
 
 a lowly walk, a thing to be forgotten. Yet 
 nothing else has been remembered in all that 
 world. Its wars and rumours of wars, its 
 marryings and givings in marriage, its buyings 
 and sellings and banquetings have been num- 
 bered with the dead ; but Enoch, by his walk 
 with God, is alive for evermore. 
 
 My soul, thy walk with God is thy evidence 
 of immortality. What is it that separates 
 thee from the beast of the field ? It is the path 
 of duty. There thou walkest with God aloft 
 and alone. Tliou hast already a portion un- 
 shared by the life of the lower creation. Thou 
 hast transcended the seen and temporal ; thou 
 hast entered the unseen and eternal, thou hast 
 passed from death unto life. No human 
 theory can rob thee of thy hope. It is not a 
 hope, it is not a faith, it is not even a proof; 
 it is a sight, a fact, an experience, a life begun. 
 Thy hope of glory is Christ already in thee. 
 Thou art immortal before death. Thou hast 
 reached even now the promised land, and 
 canst look smiling from the other bank of 
 Jordan. When death shall come to seek thee, 
 he shall see thee already escaped from the 
 
1 8 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 fowler's snare, and shall write this verdict of 
 his own discomfiture, " He was not found ; for 
 God took him." 
 
 GOD'S DWELLING-PLACE. 
 
 " /n Him dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodilyP 
 — Col. ii. 9. 
 
 " Where does God live ? " asks the little 
 child ; " Oh that I knew where I might fiud 
 Him ! " cries the earnest man. We are all 
 seeking Thy dwelling-place, thou King of 
 kings. We have not yet found a palace large 
 enouo^h to contain Thee. Some have souojht 
 Thee in tlie water, some in the air, some in 
 the fire, because tlie water and the air and the 
 fire are to us boundless things. Yet it is not 
 in the boundless that Thou desirest to be 
 found ; it is in the limited, the broken, the 
 contrite. The heaven of heavens cannot con- 
 tain Thee, but the broken and the contrite 
 heart can ; it is there Thou dulightest most to 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 19 
 
 dwell. Thy brightest glory is not in the 
 stars, but in the strnggles of a conquering 
 soul. Thy temple is the heart of Him whom 
 men have called the Man of sorrows. Tliy 
 fulness dwells in His emptiness, Thy wealth 
 in His poverty, Thy strength in His weakness, 
 Thy joy in His sorrow. Thy crown in His 
 cross. Within that temple meet harmoniously 
 the things which to the world are discords — 
 perfection and sufferiug, peace and warfare, 
 love and storm ; the lion and the lamb lie 
 down together. There would I seek Thee, 
 my God. Within these sacred precincts, where 
 all things are gathered into one, where middle 
 walls of partition are broken down, where 
 jarring chords are blended in one symphony of 
 praise, there would I seek and find Thee. 
 Under the shadow of that cross, where death 
 meets life and earth is touched by heaven, my 
 finite soul would lose its finitude and be one 
 with Thee. My night would vanish in Thy 
 day, my sorrow would melt in Thy joy, my 
 meanness would merge in Thy majesty, my 
 sin would be lost in Thy holiness. The veil 
 which hides me from Thee is the shadow of 
 
20 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 my own will ; when the veil of the temple 
 shall be rent in twain I shall see the place 
 where Thy glory dwelleth. 
 
 THE WILDERNESS AFTER JORDAN. 
 
 " T/ie/i was Jesus led up cf the Spirit itito the wilderness^ 
 — ]\Iatt. iv. I. 
 
 Teen was Jesus led up. Surely it was a 
 strange time for such a catastrophe. Was it 
 not just after the glorious vision on the banks 
 of Jordan, when the heavens had been opened 
 to His sight, and the dove-like Spirit had 
 descended on His soul, and the Father Is voice 
 had sounded in His ear, " This is my beloved 
 Son, in whom I am well pleased." After such 
 a vision, after such a voice, one would have 
 thought that there was no room in His life for 
 a wilderness any more ; yet it was then, and 
 at no other time, that the wilderness ap- 
 peared. I too have betimes been forced to 
 repeat this experience of my Lord. I have 
 
MOMENTS Oi\ THE MOUNT. 21 
 
 sat down at the table of communion, and it 
 has seemed to me as if heaven were for ever 
 opened. All clouds have vanished from my 
 path, and the silence has been broken by the 
 benediction of a Father's voice, and the dove- 
 like Spirit has whispered in my car the pro- 
 mise of a peace that passeth knowledge. But 
 then anon the shadows have gathered anew. 
 The table of communion has been withdrawn, 
 and the Divine voice has seemed to be silent, 
 and that which was once the garden of the 
 Lord has been transformed into the solitudes 
 of the wilderness. I have asked myself in 
 surprise wherefore my soul has been thus dis- 
 quieted. Why has the glory of my morning 
 faded 1 Why has the glad promise of peace 
 been broken ? I went out, like the Psalmist, 
 with a multitude that kept holyday, and I 
 have returned alone. Why art Thou so far 
 from helping me, my God ? 
 
 My soul, thou art disquieted without a cause. 
 Thy God is not far from helping thee ; thy 
 God has never left thee for a moment ; He 
 has passed with thee from the Jordan into the 
 wilderness. It is the Spirit that leads thee 
 
22 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 up into tlie wilderuess. He would not have 
 fulfilled His promise of peace Lad He left thee 
 on the banks of Jordan. The vision of the 
 opened heavens was only peace from the 
 storm, but the promise He made to thee was 
 a promise of peace in the storm. That pro- 
 mise He can only keep in the wilderness. 
 What proof wouldst thou have of His love ? 
 Wouldst thou have purple and fine linen, and 
 sumptuous faring every day ? That would 
 not be a peace which passeth knowledge ; it 
 would be a peace explainable by earthly 
 causes. But if the clouds should gather, if 
 the stars should go out, if the night winds 
 should blow and beat upon the house of thy 
 life, and if through all that life should be 
 strong and steadfast, then verily thou hast a 
 peace not given by the world — a peace inde- 
 pendent of the earth, defiant of the wilderness. 
 If the dove that lighteth from the opened 
 heavens can abide when the heavens have 
 been closed, thy bright experience at Jordan 
 shall be proved to be no dream. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 23 
 
 XII. 
 
 TEMPTATION. 
 
 " And the devil, taking Him up into an high nwunfain, 
 showed ujito Him all the kingdoms of the wo fid in a 
 moment of time." — Luke iv. 5. 
 
 The tempter had tried the Son of Man through 
 the power of de[)ression ; he now tries Him 
 by the power of exaltation. He had sought 
 to vanquish Him by the scourge of poverty ; 
 he now seeks to overcome Him by the vision 
 of plenty. He had brought Him down into 
 the valley and had tempted Him by the 
 dangers of humiliation ; he now carries Him 
 up to the mountain and tempts Him by the 
 dangers of elevation. And so the tempter 
 has unwittingly been teaching my heart a 
 lesson. I thought in the days of old that 
 temptation belonged to certain circumstances ; 
 I blamed my cross for my siijs. I said within 
 myself that if I could only get a changed cross 
 I would immediately get a changed life, that 
 if I could be freed from the burden and heat 
 of the dav I would be freed from the sin that 
 
24 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 SO easily besets me. I did not know that I 
 did not get my sin from my circumstances, 
 but that I gave my sin to my circumstances. 
 Why was the Son of Man superior to all 
 circumstances ? It was only because He was 
 superior to all sin. Had there been sin in 
 His heart the valley would have had the same 
 chance as the mountain. The sinful heart 
 will incarnate itself in everything, and will 
 find in everything a temptation. It will be 
 tempted by poverty and it will be tempted 
 by wealth ; it will be in danger from the 
 stones of the desert, and it will be in danger 
 from the kingdoms of the world and their 
 glory. But the sinless heart will be free from 
 temptation everywhere. It will neither be 
 seduced by the exigencies of the valley of 
 humiliation nor by the allurements of the 
 mountain of elevation ; it will no j turn the 
 stones into bread to avoid the fjimine, it will 
 not bow the knee to Baa] to purchase a 
 crown. 
 
 Thou Divine Spirit, that hast proved Thy 
 strength alike over the valley and over the 
 mountain, let me find my strength in Thee. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 25 
 
 I need Thee, that I may be strong everywhere. 
 I long to be independent of all circumstances, 
 alike of the cloud and of the sunshine. I want 
 a power to keep me from being depressed in 
 the vale and to prevent me from being giddy 
 on the height ; to save me from sinking in de- 
 spondency and to rescue me from soaring in 
 pride. I want both a pillar of fire and a pillar 
 of cloud ; a refuge from the night of adversity 
 and a shield from the day of prosperity. 1 
 can find them in Thee. Thou hast proved 
 Thy power both over the night and over the 
 day ; Thou hast vanquished the tempter in the 
 valley and Thou hast conquered the tempter 
 on the hill. Come into my heart, and Thy 
 power shall be my power. The earth shall be 
 mine and the fulness thereof. I shall be 
 victorious over all circumstances, at home in 
 all scenes, restful in all fortunes. I shall have 
 power to tread upon scorpions, and they shall 
 do me no hurt ; the world shall be mine when 
 Thy Spirit is in me. 
 
26 AIOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 CAN A OF GALILEE. 
 
 " T/iis beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana of Galilee, 
 and manifested forth His glory, and His disciples 
 believed on Him." — John ii. xi. 
 
 Strange place for the first manifestation of 
 the Son of Man ! He had conquered the temp- 
 ter in the solitudes of the wilderness, the place 
 where one should have least expected that the 
 tempter would be found, and now He comes to 
 seek him in that world which is supposed to 
 be his natural sphere. Why did He not remain 
 in that wilderness which He had made beauti- 
 ful ? Why did He not rest in the solitudes of 
 that scene which He had made a scene of un- 
 ruffled contemplation? It was because the 
 design of conquering temptation is to make us 
 fit for the world. We do not conquer in order 
 that we may rest, we conquer in order that we 
 may work. We are brought up into the soli- 
 tudes, not that we may avoid the world, but 
 that we may prepare for the world. We are 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 27 
 
 made to feel our loneliness only that we may be 
 trained for not being alone. We get our glory 
 that we may manifest our glory. Our glory is 
 the choice of Christ over the kingdoms of the 
 world, and we can only make it in the secret 
 places of the soul ; but when we have made it, 
 the kingdoms of the world become our sphere. 
 The Son of Man refused to turn the stones 
 into bread, but that refusal gave Him a right 
 to turn the water into wine. He was fit for 
 the world because He had shown Himself to 
 be unworldly. 
 
 My soul, often hast thou asked thyself if it 
 is right for thee to frequent the common haunts 
 of men ; if it would not be better for thee to 
 get away from the scenes and pursuits of the 
 madding crowd. Nay, but, my soul, who art 
 thou that askest ? Everything depends on the 
 answer to that question. What has been thy 
 past experience ? Has it been frivolous or has 
 it been earnest? Has thy life been hitherto 
 knit to the things that are perishable ? Then 
 thou art not fit to live amongst these things . 
 they are too strong for thee, they will drag thee 
 down to their own level. But hast thou passed 
 
28 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 tlirougli the solitudes of the wilderness ? Hast 
 thou in the strenoth of the Son of Man made 
 choice already of the strait gate and the 
 narrow way ? Hast thou in the silence of the 
 heart preferred the path of duty to the way of 
 pleasure, and the rule of princiiDle to the reign 
 of passion 1 Then thou hast received a key to 
 open all the doors of life ; thou hast liberty to 
 do all thino-s if Christ has streno-thened thee. 
 The world has become thine by reason of thine 
 unworldliness. Tiiou hast received more free- 
 dom of spiritual diet than is allowed to the 
 worldly mind. Thou canst bear more things 
 without hurt than the worldling can. Thou 
 canst frequent more scenes without detriment 
 than the worldlino- dare. Cana of Galilee 
 shall be open to thy steps. All the relation- 
 ships of life shall be endeared to thee. All the 
 pleasures of life shall be sweetened to thee. All 
 the pursuits of life shall be hallowed to thee. 
 All the burdens of life shall be ennobled to thee. 
 The Light that is in thee is a light to lighten 
 the Gentiles as well as the glory of God's 
 people Israel ; for he that has prevailed with 
 God has power also over man. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 29 
 
 XIV. 
 
 HEAVEN WITHOUT A TEMPLE. 
 
 "And I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God 
 Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it." — Rev. 
 xxi. 22. 
 
 No temple therein ; are these words a promise 
 or a threat ? Heaven without a temple seems 
 a strange boon. Heaven without pain, heaven 
 without death, heaven without sorrow or sigh- 
 ing, — all this I can understand ; but heaven 
 without a temple — is it not nature without a 
 sun ? Nay, verily, rather is it nature without 
 a cloud. What the seer means to describe is 
 not a heaven where there shall be no religion, 
 but a heaven where there shall be nothing hut 
 relifrion, where relio;ion shall be all in all. The 
 Jewish temple circumscribed the range of 
 man's worship. It said, Thou shalt worship 
 here but not there, to-day but not to-morrow, 
 in the sacred but not in the secular, in the 
 burnt-offering but not in the hourly offering 
 
30 MOM li NTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 of the will. But the vision of heaven without 
 a temple spoke volumes. It said, All places 
 are holy, all days are holy, all duties are holy. 
 Every spot whereon thou treadest is henceforth 
 sacred. Say not, I must give one portion of 
 my time to God ; thy God claims all thy time 
 — thy heart and soul and strength and mind. 
 Say not, I must cease betimes from work that 
 I may worship ; thy work must itself be a 
 worship, a rest in God. Hast thou pondered 
 the meaning of these words, " The Lord thy 
 God is a jealous God ?" God's love for thee 
 is too divine to be satisfied with the frao-ments 
 of thy heart ; He must have all or nothing. 
 He will not accept from thee the mere pauses 
 in thy pursuit of pleasure, the mere breathing- 
 spaces in thy race of ambition ; He will have 
 thee to find Him everywhere. He wall not let 
 thee call one house His edifice if thereby all 
 other houses be profaned. His temple is an 
 universal temple. Its height is the summit of 
 heaven, its depth is the base of sacrifice, its 
 length is the measure of eternity, its breadth 
 is the vastness of every finite need, its glory 
 is the glory of the Lamb. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 31 
 
 Tliou, whose love is not confined to 1 
 temples made with hands, enhirge my heart to 
 worship Thee. Help me to see Thee where 
 men see only the world, to hear Thee where 
 men hear only the voices of the crowd. En- 
 large the range of my reverence. Teach me to 
 realise the awful solemnity of the things which 
 I call common. Impress me with the truth 
 that the meanest household duty is a service 
 of Thee, that the smallest act of kindness is a 
 praise of Thee, that the tiniest cup of water, 
 though it were given only in a disciple's name, 
 is a worship and a love of Thee. Help me to 
 feel the sense of Thy presence everywhere, that 
 even in the prosaic haunts of men and in the 
 commonplace battles of life I may be able to 
 lift up mine eyes and say, " This is none other 
 than the house of God, this is the gate of 
 heaven." 
 
3? MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 XV. 
 
 NO MORE SEA. 
 " There was no more sea.'^ — Rev. xxi. i. 
 
 Human life below has more sea than land. It 
 is not a connected contineut — a brotherhood 
 of souls ; it is a multitude of little islands 
 divided by stormy waves. There is a great 
 gulf fixed between my life and the life of my 
 brother — the gulf of self-interest ; I cannot 
 pass over to him, and he cannot pass over to 
 me. And the secret of our separation is the 
 secret also of our unrest. We live in perpetual 
 storms because we live in perpetual selfishness ; 
 the wave of our thoughts rolls back upon our- 
 selves. But in that higher life which the seer 
 of Patmos saw the gulfs were all dried up, and 
 the separation of land from land appeared no 
 more. Human nature became to his gaze a 
 continent. Men lost their isolation and ran 
 together into unity. They saw eye to eye, 
 they felt heart to heart, they wrought hand to 
 hand, and the glory of tlie Lord was revealed 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 33 
 
 because all flesh could see it together. Eacli 
 man took up the trouble of his hrother-man, 
 and in taking the trouble of his brother each 
 man lost his own. There came a G;reat stillness 
 over the individual heart. Its stillness came 
 because its burden fell, and its burden fell 
 because the burdens of humanity rose ; there 
 was perfect self-forgetfulness, therefore there 
 was no more sea. 
 
 thou Son of Man, who, by liftiiig the 
 burdens of our liumanity, hast made Thine own 
 yoke easy and Thine own burden light, lift 
 this life of mine into sympathy, into union 
 with Thee. I am weary of myself, weary of 
 the din and the battle, weary of the burden 
 and the heat. I am seeking everywhere for a 
 hiding-place from the storm, everywhere for 
 a covert from the tempest. But the storm is 
 not v/ithout me, but within ; the tempest is 
 not in my circumstances but in me. Son of 
 Man, save me from myself, that I may enter 
 into Thy peace, Thine unspeakable joy. In- 
 spire me with Thine own burden of love, that 
 the care of self may fall from me, and that with 
 Thy divine freedom I may be free. Help me 
 
34 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 to take up Thy cross, that I myself may be 
 lifted up. Give me Thy spirit of sacrifice, that 
 I may be elevated above my own fears. Unite 
 me to the great continent, the brotherhood of 
 human souls, that the storms of my island life 
 may be lulled to rest ; then shall I be able in 
 my heart to say, " There is no more sea." 
 
 XVI. 
 
 WHERE TO MEET WITH GOD. 
 
 " ^nd tliere J will meei with the children of Israel, and 
 the tabernacle shall be sanctified by My glory." — 
 ExOD. xxix. 43. 
 
 " There I will meet with the children of 
 Israel." Where ? At the door of the taber- 
 nacle. Not in the tabernacle, but at the 
 door. The service of the sanctuary was to 
 them to be sanctified and glorified, because 
 the spirit of worship was to meet them nt the 
 entrance. They were not to be forced to enter 
 with a worldly spirit on the chance of finding 
 light in the progress of the day. They were 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 35 
 
 to find lio-lit on the tliresliold that was to 
 keep them all tlie day — light for the morning 
 sacrifice, light for the evening incense, light for 
 the intermediate hours. So has it been with 
 me. I set out through the problems of life 
 on a search for God, and I did not find God ; 
 I found only problems that made me doubt of 
 God. Then I said in words of old, " Verily 
 Thou art a God that hidest Thyself; " '' Why 
 art Thou so far from helping me ? " And 
 while I yet spake, a voice made answer : 
 " Why didst thou not meet me at the door ? 
 Thou hast been in search of me through the 
 labyrinths of the world ; why didst thou not 
 come first to me to lead thee through the 
 labyrinths ? Thou hast been seeking to see 
 me by the light of the world ; why didst thou 
 not rather seek to see the worl'd by my light ? 
 I would have made all things clear to thee 
 if thou hadst met me at the door. Thou 
 wouldst not have been surprised by the 
 mystery of sorrow. I would have shown thee 
 before starting that life is not a pleasure- 
 ground, but a school. 1 would have sanctified 
 to thee in advance the strait oate and tlie 
 
36 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 Harrow way. 1 would have gone before thee 
 with a pillar of fire to light each cloud by my 
 presence, so that in the valley of every shadow 
 thou wouldst have said, ' Surely the Lord was 
 in this place.' " 
 
 My God, it is not too late to begin anew. 
 Let me start again on the path of existence, no 
 longer in search of Thee, but ivith Thee. Let 
 me meet Thee at the door of life, that Thou 
 mayst be my interpreter through all the way. 
 When crosses lie before me and I call them 
 accidents, inter[)ret Thou to me ; show me 
 that the cross is the road to the crown. When 
 weakness overtakes me and I call it fiiilure, 
 interpret Thou to me ; show me that Thy 
 strength is made perfect in weakness. When 
 darkness hovers round me, and I call it the 
 hiding of Thy countenance, interpret thou to 
 me ; show me that with Thee the night is 
 even as the noon. Teach me that all things 
 are good and perfect gifts from Thee — even 
 the terror by night and the arrow that flieth 
 by day. Teach me that Thy love can have 
 no variableness nor the least shadow of turn- 
 ing. Let me believe in Thy love before all 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 37 
 
 events, that I may interpret all events hij thy 
 love. The sacrifices of life's tabernacle shall be 
 sanctified when I have met Thee at the door. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE FIRE OF GOD. 
 
 " And the glory of the Lord appeared unto all the people. 
 And there came a fire out from before the Lord, and 
 consumed upoji the altar the burnt offering.^'' — Lev. ix. 
 23, 24. 
 
 There are two fires to which the soul is sub- 
 ject — the fire of sin, and the fire of God. 
 There is a fire which men call the fire of hell, 
 and there is a fire which they ought to call 
 the fire of heaven ; the one consumes the soul, 
 the other consumes everything that impedes 
 the soul. The fire of sin comes because God is 
 absent, but the fire of God only comes when 
 He Himself is near. So was it with this con- 
 gregation at the door of the tabernacle. Tliey 
 beheld a consuming fire, but they beheld it 
 not because God was far away, but because 
 
38 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 He was verily at the door. It was only when 
 the glory of God had appeared that the con- 
 suming fire appeared. There was no sacrifice 
 to them, no sense of pain to them, no life- 
 surrender to them, until their eyes had rested 
 on the vision of the Divine glory. But when 
 the vision of God's glory came the consum- 
 ing fire came too ; the sacrifice and the pain 
 followed the sight of God. " There came a fire 
 out from before the Lord." 
 
 My soul, ponder deeply the meaning of 
 these words, for they have a deep message for 
 thee. Often hast thou been called to pass 
 through the fire, and it has seemed to thee a 
 hard thing. It has seemed to thee as if thy 
 God had overlooked thy cause, nay, even as if 
 thou wert under His special judgment. Didst 
 thou forsret that there is a fire which burns 
 only the alloy, and burns it for the sake of the 
 gold ? Didst thou forofet that there is a suffer- 
 ing which means not enmity but fellowship 
 with thy God ? Didst thou forget that he who 
 follows closest after the life Divine is ever he 
 who is nearest to the cross. There are sacri- 
 fices which can only begin with the Christ-life, 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 39 
 
 offerings which can only be made in the pre- 
 sence of the Infinite Glory. The fire of heaven 
 was God's first gift to thee ; it consumed the 
 dross and disencumbered the precious ore. It 
 shall ever be to thee a memory of joy, for. 
 walking in the midst of the furnace, was One 
 like unto the Son of Man. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 CHRISTIAN ASPIRATION. 
 
 "/ s/ial/ be satisfied, when I awake, with Thy likeness^^ — 
 Ps. xvii. 15. 
 
 And shall nothing less than this content thee, 
 Psalmist ? To awake in the likeness of God, 
 — it is a bold aspiration for a frail and sinful 
 mortal. I should rather have expected thee 
 to have crouched down in absolute humiliation 
 before the blaze of the Infinite Glory. I 
 should have expected thee to have asked only 
 the crumbs that should fall from the Master's 
 table, to have been content with the smallest 
 token of the Master's recognition. Why didst 
 
40 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 tliou not ask merely to be made one of the 
 hired servants in the house of thy God, to be 
 assigned the position of a pardoned and rein- 
 stated slave ? Instead of that, thy demand is 
 insatiable, inexhaustible. There is no limit 
 to its soaring, there is no bound to its desire. 
 It will not be content with the remission of a 
 penalty, it will not be appeased with the pro- 
 mise of pardon, it will not even be perfectly 
 gratified with the message of reconciliation, it 
 must have union with God Himself. It aspires 
 to be one with the life and will of the Highest ; 
 it gazes into the Infinite Brightness and cries, 
 " I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with Thy 
 likeness." 
 
 My soul, the Psalmist is in this a type of 
 thee at thy best. Whenever thou art near to 
 God thy demands are insatiable. It is when 
 thou art far from God that thine expectations 
 are small ; the narrow heart has a short out- 
 look. It is when thy heart is enlarged that 
 thy wants are enlarged ; thy wants are the 
 measure of thee, thy want of God is most of 
 all the measure of tliee. When God has come 
 near to thee thou wilt accept no compromise. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 41 
 
 Thou wilt not be satisfied with His outward 
 gifts, thou wilt not be contented with His pro- 
 mise of pardon ; thou shalt have Himself alone. 
 It will not appease thee to be told that tliere 
 is no more year ; thou shalt insist to enter into 
 the joy of thy Lord. Thou shalt ask to see as 
 He sees, to will as He wills, to know as He 
 knows. Thou shalt claim the privilege of a 
 kindred spirit, whereby thou mayest commune 
 with Him as a man talketh with his friend ; 
 and when the world wonders that thou art not 
 at rest in the possession of its own gifts, thou 
 shalt point thy finger upward and say, " I shall 
 be satisfied, when I awake, with His likeness." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 CHRIST'S SYMPATHY. 
 
 ^^ J have compassion on the multitude, because they have now 
 been with me three days, and have notliing to eat : 
 and if I send them away fasting to their own houses, 
 they will faint by the zaay." — Mark viii. 2, 3. 
 
 The compassion here displayed by the Son of 
 Man is a pity for the common wants of men. 
 
42 MOM EMS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 It is their common wants that here impress 
 Him. He is not afraid for this multitude as to 
 its spiritual condition; He knows that the men 
 who compose it are intensely spiritual. But 
 He fears that the very intenseness of their 
 spiritual excitement has made them forget their 
 temporal necessities. They have been endur- 
 ing physical privation, but they have not felt 
 it because their thoughts have been away from 
 themselves ; their thoughts and their eyes 
 have been on Him. But He knows that the 
 moment they shall lose sight of Him their 
 physical privation shall exert itself; He knows 
 that the moment He has sent them away from 
 His presence they shall feel that physical want 
 which they now have without feeling it, and 
 His human heart bleeds for the human needs 
 of mau. 
 
 Thou Son of Man, in Thy religion alone 
 is there hope for those who toil. Tliou alone 
 of all masters hast sympathy with the needs 
 of the common day, with the wants of the 
 passing hour. To all other masters the needs 
 of the common day are ignoble, the wants of 
 the passing hour are yiu. The religions of 
 
MOMENTS ON 'I HE MOUNT. 43 
 
 men have no sympathy witli man as man; they 
 call on him to leave the world, they frown 
 upon his struggles for the perishable bread. 
 But Thou hast compassion on the prosaic toilers 
 of life. Thou hast compassion on those who 
 are fasting by the way, and who have no 
 spiritual vision to break their fast. Thou hast 
 compassion on the crowd in which each man 
 is alone — alone with his solitary battle, alone 
 with his poverty and. care. Thou hast taken 
 up the cross of them that labour, and hast 
 claimed it for Thine own. Thou hast identified 
 Thine interest with the cry of struggling 
 millions : " Give us this day our daily bread." 
 
 XX. 
 
 GOD'S WARNING. 
 
 ^'- But if ye will not do so, behold, ye have sinned against 
 the Lord : and be sure your sin will find you out." — 
 Num. xxxii. 23. 
 
 Should we not have expected a fiercer denun- 
 ciation, a strono-er form of Divine threateninsf ? 
 Should we not have looked for such words ;is 
 
44 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 these, " If ye will not do so, behold, ye have 
 sinned against the Lord, and the thunderbolt 
 of the Lord will strike you ? " Does it not 
 seem a lame and impotent conclusion to tell 
 these men merely that if they broke the 
 Divine command the result of their sin would, 
 one day overtake them, that the seed of their 
 own sowing would one day be a seed of bitter- 
 ness ? Is this mild lans^uage consistent with 
 our thought of the majesty of God ? Nay, 
 verily, for we have never thought worthily of 
 that majesty. We have thought of Him as a 
 being who shall destroy us if we do not obey 
 Him. It is not He that shall destroy, it is our- 
 selves ; He wants to save us from ourselves. 
 His is not a threatening, it is a warning — a 
 warning whose fulfilment He would deplore 
 more than we. Wherefore does He say, " In 
 the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt 
 surely die " ? Not because He is vindictive, 
 but because sin is mortal. Thy sin carries her 
 sting in her own bosom, and the infinite love 
 that is hid in the bosom of the Father yearns 
 to find it and to extract it ere it shall find and 
 destroy thee. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 45 
 
 Love unspeakable and full of glory, whose 
 majesty is not to destroy but to save, save me 
 from myself. My past relentlessly pursues 
 me. Days that I thought dead live over again, 
 deeds that I deemed buried meet me on the 
 way ; be thou my rearward, my God. Fill 
 up that which my life has left behind, undo 
 that which my life has done amiss. Eepair 
 the places I have wasted, bind the hearts I have 
 wounded, dry the eyes I have flooded. Make 
 the evil I have done to work for good, so that 
 I myself would not know it. Overrule the 
 acts I did in malice ; weave them into Thy 
 Divine mosaic, that my very wrath may be 
 made to praise Thee. Take up my yesterdays 
 into Thine own golden light, and transfigure 
 them there, that I may learn with joyful sur- 
 prise how even against my will I was labour- 
 ing together with Thee ; so shall my former 
 self find me no more. 
 
46 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 THE GROUND OF IMMORTALITY. 
 
 " Arf Thou not /ran everlasting, O Lord my God, mine 
 Holy One? we shall not die." — Hab. i. 12. 
 
 Presumptuous words these surely from tlie 
 creature to the Creator : " Thou art from 
 everlasting, therefore / shall not die." What 
 right have I to measure my life with Him f 
 He is from everlasting ; I am of yesterday. 
 He has the dew of His youth ; my days de- 
 cline as doth a shadow. He is the same 
 yesterday, to-day, and for ever ; my life is 
 changed as a vesture every hour. AVould it 
 not be more becoming for me to say, " Thou 
 art from everlasting, therefore / must die." 
 Nay, my soul, thou hast not rightly read the 
 ground of thine own hope. The prophet is 
 not seeking to have his own life made equal 
 to God's ; he is seeking to have God's own 
 life in him. Bethink thee what mean such 
 words as these, " Because 1 live, ye sliall live 
 also ; " "I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in 
 me ; " " Christ in you, the hope of glory." 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 47 
 
 They mean that thy immortality is God's im- 
 mortality. Thy hope of vanquishing death is 
 thy possession in thyself of the deathless One. 
 It is because the Everlasting is thij God that 
 His everlastingness is anything to thee. Were 
 He merely outside of thee it would be indeed 
 presumption in thee to measure thy years 
 with Him. But He is not outside of thee. 
 He has breathed into thy nostrils the breath 
 of His own life, and it is by that breath that 
 even now thou livest. It is by that breath 
 that even now thou art victor over death 
 from moment to moment, from hour to hour, 
 from day to day. It is by that breath that, 
 when flesh and heart faint and fail, thou 
 shalt be victor over death still, shalt find the 
 strength of thy heart and thy portion for ever. 
 Spirit of Christ, Spirit in whose breath I 
 live and move and have my being, reveal day 
 by day the power of Thy presence within me. 
 Eeveal to me that the power of Thy presence 
 is the power of my resurrection, the certitude 
 of my immortality. Ofttimes I stand aghast 
 before the gates of the great mystery ; I 
 wonder what thino-s shall be in the state 
 
48 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 after death. Teacli me that the state after 
 death exists aU-eady before death, that I need 
 not taste of death until I have seen the 
 kingdom of God. Teach me that my im- 
 mortahty is not to come, that it is here, that 
 it is now. Teach me that the life eternal 
 is not merely the life beyond the grave, but 
 the life on this side the grave. Keveal to me 
 that I am now in eternity, that I am breath- 
 ing the very air of those that have passed the 
 gates. Let me have more tlian hope ; give 
 me fruition. Let me feel that I am already 
 immortal ; that death could no more destroy 
 my life than it could destroy Thine, because 
 mine is Thine. When my strength is weakened 
 in the way, when the shadows of the grave 
 seem to encompass me, help me to remember 
 not so much that there is a life above as that 
 there is a life within. Help me to remember, 
 not that Thou art waiting for me across the 
 valley, but that Thou art waiting with me in 
 the valley ; then shall the rod and staff of my 
 comfort be, "Thou art from everlasting, tliere- 
 fore I shall not die." 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 49 
 
 XXII. 
 
 REVELATION. 
 
 " Oj>en Tliou mine eyes, that I may leJioId wondrous things 
 out of Thy law.'"— Vs. cxix. i8. 
 
 Wheeefoke is it, my soul, that in tliy cry for 
 revelation thou lookest ever to the rending of 
 an outer veil ? It seems to thee that if there 
 could only be a parting of the clouds, thou 
 wouldst have a vision of things unutterable, 
 that if thou couldst be transplanted beyond the 
 clouds, the glory of the Lord would be re- 
 vealed. And so it is to death thou lookest as 
 the great revealer, to that hour when the silver 
 cord shall be loosed and the golden bowl shall 
 be broken. Nay, my soul, but thou art look- 
 ing too far for thy revelation. Thou dost not 
 need to wait for the loosing of the silver cord 
 or the breaking of the golden bowl. What 
 thou needest is not a new scene, but a new 
 . sense. There are beauties undisclosed lying 
 at thy feet waiting for that sense to come. 
 The prayer for thee is : '' Open Thou mine 
 
so MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 eyes, that I may behold wondrous things." 
 The wondrous things of thy God are already 
 around thee ; they are lying at the door of 
 thy being, they are touching the hem of thy 
 garment. To see them thou dost not need to 
 be transplanted either by life or by death. 
 Thou dost not need to change thy place even 
 by an hair's-breadth ; thou hast want only of 
 an eye. One other spiritual sense would make 
 to thee a new universe, another world without 
 and within. It would clothe the woods in fresh 
 verdure, it would paint the flowers in new 
 beauty, it would gild the sunbeams in un- 
 wonted glory. It would throw light upon 
 dark places of creation, it would illuminate 
 unfrequented depths of thought, it would make 
 clear in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, 
 problems that have wrung the heart with pain. 
 What thinkest thou mean these words, " And 
 Abraham lifted up his eyes, and looked, and 
 behold, behind him a ram caught in a thicket " ? 
 He had been perplexing his mind as to where 
 lie should find a burnt-ofi'ering — a substitute 
 for his own pain ; this ram caught in the 
 thicket came to him as a revelation. Yet 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 51 
 
 whence came the revelation ? Only from the 
 lifting up of his eyes. The ram had all along 
 been in that thicket ; he merely needed to see 
 it. While he had been waiting^ for his con- 
 solation, his consolation had been waiting: for 
 him. The boon which he sought was already 
 "behind him ;" he had jDassed it by on the 
 way. When he opened his eyes what he saw 
 was his own past — the glory of something 
 which had escaped him on the journey. Even 
 so, my soul, is it with thee. There are pas- 
 sages of God's law, written and unwritten, 
 which thou art passing heedlessly by, which 
 thou hast perused without interest as slight 
 and commonplace thiijgs. One day thou shalt 
 know that thou hast been in contact with 
 angels unawares. One day thou shalt know 
 that what thou hast passed by on the way 
 was a treasure of purest gold. Thou too, like 
 Abraham, shalt look behind thee and find in 
 these neglected things the remedy for all thy 
 pain ; when thine eye shall open upon thy 
 past thou shalt awake to the vision of its 
 wondrous glory. 
 
52 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT, 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 THE INWARDNESS OF REVELATION. 
 
 " To reveal His Son in me." — Gal. i. i6. 
 
 St. Paul is here describing the process of his 
 own conversion, the light which he saw from 
 heaven. He says that it pleased God to reveal 
 His Son in him. Why in him ? Wherefore 
 does he not say, " It pleased God to reveal His 
 Son to me " ? Was not the light which he 
 saw an outer vision ? Did it not arrest him 
 at midday with a glory above the brightness 
 of the sun 1 Did it not bar the way to his old 
 nature, and bid his life to pause in the midst 
 of his journey ? Surely that picture of his 
 Lord was a vision to his eye. Nay, but can 
 any picture be a vision to the eye ? Can a 
 thing be revealed to me which has not been 
 revealed in me ? Is the landscape on which I 
 ga.iie revealed only to my outward vision ? 
 Nay, or it would not be revealed at all ; there 
 could be no beauty without if there were not 
 a sense of beauty within. Is the music to 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 53 
 
 wliicli I listen revealed only to my outward 
 . ear ? Nay, or I would be deaf to it for ever- 
 more ; there could be no harmony without if 
 there were not a sense of harmony within. 
 So is it with the beauty of Him who is fairer 
 than the children of men. Often have I 
 envied the lot of those who were permitted to 
 gaze upon His outward form, to see the beam 
 on His face, to hear the thrill in His voice. 
 Yet was it not the very cliief of these to whom 
 the words were spoken, " Flesh and blood hath 
 not revealed it unto thee." It was not the 
 eye which saw the beam, it was not the ear 
 which heard the thrill ; it was the soul, the 
 heart, the life, the responsive spirit bearing 
 witness with His Spirit, the kindred sympathy 
 that ran out to meet its counterpart, and found 
 in Him all its salvation because it found in 
 Him all its desire. 
 
 My God, reveal Thy Son in me. I ask for 
 more than an audible voice, because I need 
 more. It would not help me to behold Thy 
 liandwritiiig on the clouds of heaven ; it would 
 be but the letter.^ of a book to the child that 
 cannot read. Teach me the meaning of Thy 
 
54 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 words. No description of Tlij heavens could 
 declare their glory to the born blind ; no 
 description of Thy Christ could manifest His 
 greatness to the loveless soul. Therefore, 
 Spirit of love, breathe into this heart the new 
 sensation of loving, the new experience of 
 being loved. Inspire this consciousness with 
 that thought which transcends all the channels 
 of the natural sense. Unseal the inner eye, 
 unstop the spiritual ear, that the symmetries 
 and the harmonies of all worlds may be re- 
 vealed. It is in Thy light alone that we shall 
 see liglit. Only they who are rooted and 
 grounded in love shall be able to comprehend 
 that love of Thine, which, although familiar to 
 all saints, passeth finite knowledge. I shall 
 see the King in His beauty when His beauty 
 shall be revealed in me. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 55 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 DESERT EXPERIENCES. 
 
 " And the augcl of the Lord sj)ake unto Philip, saying, 
 Arise, and go toward the sojith, imto the ivay that 
 goeth down from Jerusalem unto Gaza, which is 
 desert." — Acts viii. 26. 
 
 " Arise, and go unto tlie way which is desert." 
 Startling words these to be addressed by an 
 ano-el of goodness to an earnest human soul. 
 They would be startling if addressed to any 
 man, but they are specially so when spoken to a 
 man of God. To tell the zealous missionary to 
 go into the desert, to bid the seeker of souls to 
 frequent that spot where souls are least expected 
 to be, it was surely a strange, an unprece- 
 dented mandate. Nay, not unprecedented ; it 
 has its parallel in your life and mine. How 
 often in the midday of our career lias an arrest- 
 ing hand seemed to bar our progress, has an 
 arresting voice seemed to say, " Hitherto shalt 
 thou go, and no further." My strength was 
 weakened in the way ut the very moment 
 
56 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 when I thought myself to be doing God ser- 
 vice, at the very moment when all I appeared 
 to want was just an increase of strength. 
 Sickness came, privation came, obloquy came, 
 and I had to leave my work undone. At such 
 moments I cried, " To what purpose is this 
 waste?" I asked, Why is my life pent up 
 within this narrow^ sphere, wdiy are my days 
 confined within these trivial limits ? I have 
 capabilities for great work, I have powers for 
 great heroism, I have aspirations for great 
 deeds of service ; wherefore has it been said 
 to me, " Go down unto the way which is 
 desert"? 
 
 My soul, it is because there are moments in 
 which the life of the desert is to thee the fulness 
 of life. Philip perhaps murmured at the man- 
 date given to him, yet it was this mandate 
 which made his name glorious ; he founded in 
 that desert the bemnnii]©; of a kiiio-dom. So 
 is it with thy desert moments ; they are 
 moments of the grandest service. Thinkest 
 thou that thy God is only served by working? 
 He is even more served by waiting and by 
 bearing. The heart which can tarry for Him 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 57 
 
 in the solitudes of the wiklerness is to Him 
 the dearest heart of all Methinks that the 
 lawsfiver Moses was never more fair in the 
 sioht of God than when it was written of him, 
 
 o 
 
 " By faith he endured, as seeing Him who is in- 
 visible." It was the waiting without a miracle, 
 without a manifestation, without a sign, the 
 waiting for something which reason said was 
 impossible, and which experience said would 
 never come ; it was these desert hours that 
 made his life so rich, so fruitful, so luxuriant. 
 So has it been with tliee. "What thou calledst 
 thy times of waste were thy times of highest 
 blessing. In the day when thou saidst, I am 
 alone, thy life was being crowded, surrounded, 
 thronged by a great cloud of witnesses, by 
 the general assembl}^ of the firstborn, by the 
 voices of a multitude which no man could 
 number. Thou wert greatest when it seemed 
 to thyself that thou wert lowliest ; thy dark- 
 ness was thy day, thy cross was thy crown, 
 thy thorn was thy flower, thy desert was the 
 city of thy God. "Bless the Lord, my 
 soul." 
 
58 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 VISION IN OLD AGE. 
 
 " I/i's eye tvas not dim, nor his natural force abated.'" — 
 Deut. xxxiv. 7. 
 
 Most of us have our brightest visions in the 
 days of our youth. The time when men com- 
 monly stand on Mount Nebo is the hour of 
 life's morning ; it is then that the promised 
 Land appears most glorious, it is then that the 
 prospective eye is least dimmed by experience. 
 But til is man Moses was an exception to the 
 rule ; his vision came in old age. The days of 
 his youth and manhood had been too prosaic for 
 poetic flights. They had been days of danger, 
 days of anxiety, days of burden-bearing, days 
 of commonplace annoyances, more hard to 
 endure because they were commonplace. It 
 was only at the last that his child-life came. 
 It was only amid the twilight shadows that 
 there rose to him that vision which men are 
 wont to behold at niornino; — the vision of 
 coming glory, the prospect of a promised land. 
 
MOMENTS OxV THE MOUNT. 59 
 
 IIis age of jintici|)atioii began where Lis age 
 of experience ended, his inner man was renewed 
 where his outer man was aljout to })erish. In 
 the viooiir of manliood, in front of the burnino- 
 fire of God, he had felt his vision dim ; in the 
 extremity of old age he had neither a doubt 
 nor a fear. " His eye was not dim, nor his 
 natural force abated." 
 
 My soul, if thou couldst live this life of 
 sacrifice, thou too wouldst have a vision in the 
 hour of death. There is a life whose natural 
 force is not abated with the years ; it grows 
 stronger w4ien other things fade. " Whether 
 there be prophecies, they shall fail ; whether 
 there be tongues, they shall cease ; whether 
 there be knowledge, it shall vanish away ; but 
 love never faileth." It is the Nebo of old age, 
 the heiofht from which amid surrouudins^ ruins 
 the heart surveys its promised land. That 
 height of certainty may be thine. If love be 
 in thee, it will survive all things. Memory 
 may fade, fancy may droop, judgment may 
 waver, perception may languish, but the eye 
 of the heart shall grow brighter toward the 
 close. That which men have called " the 
 
6o MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 valley" sliall be to thee a mountain. Thou 
 shalt face the setting sun, and shalt see in it a 
 new rising. The clouds that environ the intel- 
 lect shall break before the childhood of the 
 spirit, and amid the snows of winter thy time 
 for the singing of birds shall come. Thou 
 shalt gaze upon a world's dissolving views, and 
 say, " death, where is thy sting ? grave, 
 where is thy victory ? " 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 THE THORN. 
 
 " And lest I should be exalted above measure through the 
 abundance of the revelations, there was given to me a 
 thorn in thejlcsh" — 2 CoR. xii. 7. 
 
 " There w\is given to me ; " can, then, the 
 thorn be a gift from God ? I am in the habit 
 of seeing God's gifts in the abundance of the 
 things which my life possesses, and I call 
 those things the dangers of life which diminish 
 the sum of its abundance. But here there 
 is a complete reversal of my thought ; the 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 6i 
 
 nl)un(l;iiice is the danger, and that wliic.li 
 diiiniiislies it is the gift. Paul has been 
 exalted above measure; he has been standing 
 on the heights of prosperity, and summering 
 in tlie sunshine of a cloudless day. The 
 cloudle^sness of the day is his greatest danger, 
 and there is sent a mist over the sun. 
 His spiritual life has been redolent with the 
 breath of flowers, and there is sent a thorn 
 amongst the flowers. The thorn is for the 
 time God's best gift to his soul ; there is some- 
 thing protective in it. It has no fragrance, it 
 has no beauty, but it yields one of the sweetest 
 uses of adversity — it reminds a human spirit 
 that it is after all only human. 
 
 My God, I have never thanked Thee for my 
 thorn. I have thanked Thee a thousand times 
 for my roses, but not once for my thorn. I 
 have been looking forward to a world where 
 [ shall get compensation for my cross, but I 
 have never thought of my cross as itself a j)re- 
 sent glory. Thou Divine Love, whose human 
 path has been perfected through sufferings, 
 teach me the glory of my cross, teach me the 
 value of my thorn. Show me that I have 
 
62 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 climbed to Thee the path of pain. Show me 
 that my tears have made my rainbow. Reveal 
 to me that my strength was the product of 
 that hour when I wrestled until the breaking 
 of the day. Then shall I know that my thorn 
 was blessed by Thee, then shall I know that 
 my cross was a gift from Thee, and I shall 
 raise a monument to the hour of my sorrow, 
 and the words which I shall write upon it will 
 be these : " It was good for me to have been 
 afflicted." 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 THE GLORY OF SUFFERING. 
 
 " J*br our light afflu-tio7i, winch is but for a moment, 
 worketh for us a far more exceeding ajid eter?ial 
 weight of glory." — 2 CoR. iv. 17. 
 
 *' Affliction worketh glory;" " our light afflic- 
 tion worketh an exceeding iceight of glory ; '* 
 " our affliction, which is but for a moment, 
 worketh an eternal weight of glory." Every 
 word is a marked and beautiful antithesis. 
 
MOME.\'TS ON THE MOUNT. 63 
 
 The mind of the apostle is overwhelmed b}^ the 
 contrast between the seen and the unseen, and 
 as he rises in his flight of contemplation, the 
 calamities of earth dwindle into insignificant 
 smallness till there is nothing visible but glory. 
 Yet, strange to say, he describes the glory by 
 an old earthly metaphor, nay, by the very 
 metaphor he used to apply to his afflictions ; 
 he calls it a iveight. We speak of a weight of 
 care, a weight of sorrow, a weight of anxiety ; 
 but a weight of glory ! surely that is a startling 
 symbol. We do not think of a man as being 
 crushed, overwhelmed, weighed down by 
 glory. We should have thought that the old 
 metaphor of care would have been repulsive, 
 that it would have been cast off like a worn- 
 out garment and remembered no more for 
 ever. Nay, but the old garment is not worn 
 out when the glory comes, it is only trans- 
 figured ; that which made thy weight of care 
 is that which makes thy weight of glory. 
 Thou needest not a new object but a new 
 light — to see by day what thou hast only seen 
 in darkness. Often have I pondered that 
 prayer of the Psalmist, " send out Thy light 
 
64 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 nnd Tiiy truth; let them lead me." Ho dues 
 not ask for new circumstances, but for a new 
 light on the old circumstances. Thou who art 
 weighted with some heavy burden, pause ere 
 thou askest its removal ; thy weiglit of pre- 
 sent care may be thy weight of future glory — • 
 may be, nay, must be when light shall dawn. 
 When thou wert a child, study was a weight 
 of care to thee ; now that thou art a man, it is 
 a weight of glory ; thou comfortest thyself 
 that thou wert able to endure. So shall it be 
 with the tasks of the larger school. One day 
 thou shalt look back and find them to have 
 been all very good. From the light of thy 
 seventh morning thou shalt look back, from 
 the summit of the finished creation thou shalt 
 behold thy six days of toil, and there shall be 
 no night there. Thy past shall be glorious 
 when it is past. Thou shalt retrace the steps 
 of thy way, and find them to have been the 
 steps to thy Sabbath of rest. Thou shalt 
 weigh in the balance the former days, and they 
 shall weigh even heavier than of yore ; but 
 that which was once a weight of care shall be 
 then a weight of glory. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 6$ 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 THE POWER OF CHRIST S SACRIFICE. 
 
 " Therefore doth my Father love me, because I lay down my 
 life. . . . No ma7i iakcth it from me. . . . / have 
 power to lay it down.'" — John x. 17, 18. 
 
 "Therefore doth my Father love me." What 
 is this secret of the Father's love ? Why is it 
 that the heart of the Father rejoices in the 
 Soil ? Is it because of the pain of the Son's 
 sacrifice ? Is it because His Father beheld in 
 Him a victim on the altar of death ? Nay, it 
 is because on the altar of death He beholds 
 in Him an offerino- that is no victim. The 
 Father's heart rejoices not that the Son is com- 
 pelled to die, but that the Son can die without 
 compulsion, that He has power to lay down 
 His life. All other sacrifices had been types 
 of impotence, but this was a type of power. 
 Never had the strenoth of will been manifested 
 so gloriously. There had been great con- 
 querors and mighty w^arriors, who had paved 
 their own wav throuQ;h the hearts of others : 
 
66 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 here was a life that could pave a way for 
 others throug-h its own heart. strength 
 perfected in weakness, self-surrendering 
 power of love, we, like the Father, yield our 
 henrts to Thee. If it had been mere resii^na- 
 tion to death we could have admired Thee ; if 
 it. had been the mere distaste for life we could 
 have pitied Thee ; but since it is tlie choice of 
 love we love Thee. We magnify the power 
 that could relinquish power, the might that 
 could abandon mig-ht, the will that could 
 resign will. Thou art most crowned to us in 
 the valley of Thy humiliation. Thou art most 
 glorious to us in the shades of Thy Geth- 
 semane. We feel that Thou art no victim, 
 that Thy love has chosen the burden, that 
 Thou wouldst not have it; otherwise for twelve 
 legions of angels. Therefore Thy cross is to 
 us not a weakness but a powder; we are not 
 ashamed of it, we glory in it, we long to be 
 like it. We pant to be made conformable 
 unto Thy death, to have our wills set free 
 from their own burning. We gaze on Thee 
 till wo shall catch Thine impress, till we shall 
 be transformed into Thine image from glory to 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 67 
 
 glory, till we shall say, not with resignation 
 but with acquiescence, "Thy will be done," 
 We shall get back our joy the momont we 
 have ceased to seek it; when we shall have 
 power to lay down our life we shall have power 
 to take it again. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 THE SECRET OF PEACE. 
 
 " He malzeth me to lie down in green pastures ; He leadetJi 
 vie beside the still tvaters ; He restoreth my sotil." — 
 Ps. xxiii. 2, 3. 
 
 One is apt to say, it was an easy thing for a 
 man with such an experience to confess the 
 Lord to be his Shepherd ; who w^ould not re- 
 joice in a God who should make him to lie 
 down in green pastures'? Yet, in truth, he who 
 says thus has not sounded the deptbs of his own 
 being. No man can lie down anywhere until 
 he has received a restored soul. It is as diffi- 
 cult for the unrestored soul to lie down in green 
 pastures as to lie down in barren wastes. 
 
68 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 Thinkest thou that an unrestful heart will 
 have more rest in prosperity than in adversity ? 
 Nay, verily, it will carry itself into everything. 
 Prosperity lies not in the greenness of the 
 pastures, adversity lies not in the barrenness 
 of the wastes ; they both lie within. The 
 joyous heart will make all things joyful ; its 
 pastures will all be green, and its w^aters will 
 all be quiet. Tlie restless heart will make all 
 things unrestful ; the very calmness of its 
 outward w^orld will become its source of pain. 
 We cannot fly from ourselves by changing our 
 circumstances ; we can only change our circum- 
 stances by flying from ourselves. The sweet- 
 ness and the bitterness of life are alike within 
 us, and we shall get from the world just what 
 we bring to it. Therefore, my soul, if thou 
 wouldst have green pastures, if thou wouldst 
 have quiet waters, if thou wouldst have any 
 spot at all wherein thou canst lie down and 
 rest, then must thou thyself be first restored. 
 Thou must be set at rest from thine own selfish- 
 ness ere any place can be to thee a scene of 
 repose. Thou must thyself be filled ere the 
 fulness of the earth can be thine, yea, ere the 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 69 
 
 emptiness of the earth can be thine. Thou 
 hast a claim to the earth's emptiness as well 
 as to its fulness. If thou art at rest all 
 things are thine — the world, life, death, angels, 
 principalities, powers; thou canst claim tlicni 
 as thy possessions, thou canst command them 
 as thy servants. The winds are thy messengers, 
 the fires are thy ministers, the clouds are thy 
 chariots ; thou canst extract joy out of sorrow. 
 Thou shalt sleep in the ship of life when the 
 storm is raging around thee. Thou shalt 
 spread thy table in peace in the presence of 
 thine enemies, and shalt fail to perceive their 
 enmity. Thy calm shall reflect itself. Thou 
 shalt see it mirrored in the face of creation, 
 and the face of creation shall to thee be 
 beautiful ; it shall answer back thy smile. 
 All the days of thy life goodness and mercy 
 shall follow thee when thou thyself hast been 
 restored. 
 
70 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT, 
 
 XXX. 
 
 THE OMNIPRESENT GOD. 
 
 *' TTiou hast beset me behind and before, and laid Thine 
 hand upon nie." — Ps. cxxxix. 5. 
 
 In three directions hast Thou beset me, 
 God. Thou art behind me, Thou art before 
 me, Thou art in contact with me. Tliou art 
 behind me in my past, Thou art before me in 
 my future, Thou art in contact with me in 
 the pressure of my present hour. In all these 
 relations I need Thee every day. I am bound 
 to three worlds, and any one of them would 
 crush me were I not beset by Thee. I am 
 bound to the past, and its chain ojDpresses 
 me ; I am bound to the future, and its shadows 
 appal me ; I am bound to the present, and 
 its conflict perturbs me. I want rest for my 
 threefold self — rest in Thee. Beset my dark 
 past with Thy presence ; take up its clouds 
 and turn them into sunshine. Beset my 
 shadowy future with Thy glory ; reveal the 
 rainbow of Thy promise to the eye of faith. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 71 
 
 Beset mj arduous present with the sense of 
 Thy nearness ; let me feel laid on me the 
 pressure of Tliy hand. I care not though the 
 pressure be heavy if only it be Thine ; the 
 yoke that comes from Thee is ever easy, the 
 burden that Thou sendest is ever light. I 
 know tl^at wheresoever Thy presence is felt 
 there is experienced a sense of weight, the 
 laying on of an invisible hand, but I know, 
 too, that the weight is of gold. I would not be 
 without it if I could ; it is that which men 
 call responsibility, and it tells me that I am a 
 man. I may never again have the carelessness 
 of the child, for it is a solemn thing to know 
 that I am with Thee. But there is some- 
 thing better than the carelessness of the child ; 
 it is the carefulness of a spirit weighted with 
 a sense of God. Therefore, Lord, impress 
 me with the magnitude, with the solemnity, 
 with the awfulness of beins: a man. Teach 
 me that I am not my own, that I live not to 
 myself, that I die not to myself Lay on me 
 the weight of my moral obligation. Lay on 
 me the weig-ht of feelino; and knowino: that I 
 am a responsible human soul. Let me hear 
 
72 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 the voice of conscience, " You ouglit, tliere- 
 fore you can." Let me hear the voice of my 
 brother crying unto me from the ground of 
 earthly abasement for succour, for soLace, for 
 sustenance. Give me the burden that Thou 
 hast made golden — the burden of a life that is 
 straitened till its baptism be accomplished, 
 oppressed until its work be done. Fill me 
 with a sense of universal care, that I may 
 be rendered individually strong ; Thy power 
 shall be great in me when Thou hast laid on 
 me Thine hand. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 THE SUPERNATURAL IN THE NATURAL. 
 " And He must needs go through Samaria.^' — John iv. 4. 
 
 Humanly speaking, it was all a chapter of 
 commonplaces. There was nothing in the 
 meetino; at Svchar's well that could not be 
 explained by natural law. There was no 
 miracle in the Master going through Samaria ; 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. j^ 
 
 He must needs go through Samaria, it hxy 
 geographically on his way to Galilee. There 
 was no miracle in the Master restino- at the 
 well ; He must needs rest at the w.ell, He 
 was weary and He wanted rest. There 
 was no miracle in the Master finding the 
 woman whom He made His disciple ; He 
 must needs find her, she was in search of 
 water, and she came to draw. The whole 
 scene was pieced together by the order oi 
 natural laws, by the union of natural forces, 
 and each separate event before it happened 
 was just what might have been foreseen. Al- 
 beit the mosaic was divine ; there was more 
 in the whole than in all the separate parts. 
 Each natural incident was the minister to an 
 end beyond itself — the agent toward a con- 
 summation it could not see. The three 
 natural needs made a supernatural result ; 
 they brought Divine life into a nation. My 
 soul, do not refuse to see God in the events of 
 thy life because thou canst trace human links 
 between them. Was Peter's vision of the 
 meat from heaven less real because the dream 
 came from his hunger 1 Nay, for the hunger 
 
74 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 and the dream were alike God's messeuorers to 
 
 o 
 
 him. Thy treasure is hid in earthen vessels. 
 God speaks to thee in trifles — in the passage 
 through Samaria, in the thirst for earthly- 
 water, in the coming to a well. Say not that 
 the little things of thy life are common ; God 
 will cleanse them in the mosaic, they will all 
 be precious in their harmony with the com- 
 pleted whole. Thou shalt see the old deeds 
 pass before thee ; they shall gather them- 
 selves together to judgment, and many that 
 are first shall be last, and many that are last 
 shall be first. Valleys shall become mountains 
 in the light of the perfect day. Hours that 
 seemed to be of no account, moments that 
 appeared to be of little value, actions that in 
 their passing were called but ripples in the 
 stream, will be found to have been the tidal 
 wave that led thy life to fortune. Neglect not 
 thy wells of Sychar, my soul, for where 
 thou seemest to be drawing only earthly water 
 thou mayst be partaking all the time of those 
 living springs whereof they that taste shall 
 never thirst again. 
 
MOMENTA ON THE MOUNT. 75 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 THE GLORY OF MORNING. 
 
 " And in the vwrning, then ye shall see the glory of the 
 Lord" — ExoD. xvi. 7. 
 
 It is in tlie morning of life, Lord, that I 
 see Thy glory. In the midday I see Thy 
 helpfulness; Thou art then to me the shadow 
 of a great rock in a weary land, a refuge 
 from the burden and the heat. In the evening 
 I see Tliy faithfulness ; I behold the retro- 
 spect of all that thou hast done, and lo, it 
 is all very good. But the morning is the 
 season of my implicit trust, perfectly implicit 
 because not yet founded on experience. I 
 trust Thee at midday because I feel Thy help ; 
 I trust thee at even because I trace Thy plan, 
 but I trust Thee at morning without any 
 reason save the morning's glow in my heart. 
 I trust Thee as the lark trusts the morniuo- air 
 into which it soars and through which it sings. 
 I trust Thee by an instinct of my being. I 
 trust Thee without experience, before trial, 
 
76 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 irrespective of argiimeiit, in defiance of diffi- 
 culty ; there is no vision but the brightness 
 of Thy face. 
 
 My God, give me back my youth; I can 
 regain it in Thee. Let the shadows of my life 
 be rekindled into morning's glow, let my heart 
 be lit with Thine eternal youth. Thou hast 
 promised us eternal life, and what is that? Not 
 merely life for ever, but life for ever young. 
 Thine eternal life can make me a child again, 
 a child without childishness. Thou, on whose 
 bloom time breathes not, who art the same 
 yesterday, and to-day, and for ever, bathe me 
 in those fountains of the morning whence 
 Thou hast the dew of Thy youth. Bathe me 
 in the ocean of that love in which there is no 
 variableness nor the least shadow of turning, 
 that the pulses of this heart may be renewed. 
 Then shall I have the bright and morning 
 star, and the dayspring from on high shall rise 
 within me. Then shall creation break forth 
 into gladness, as in the day when the morning 
 stars sanof too-ether, and all the sons of God 
 shouted for joy ; I shall see the glory of life 
 when Thy morning is in my soul. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. J7 
 
 XXXIIl. 
 
 THE GLORY OF CHRIST. 
 
 " Father, I iv ill that thry also zvhom Thoii hast giveji me be 
 with me where I am ; that they may behold my glory, 
 which 27iou hast given me." — John xvii. 24. 
 
 "Where I am." Strange place that in which 
 to behold His glory ! We coukl have under- 
 stood Him if He had said, " I will that these 
 whom Thou hast given me be with me where 
 I ims — in the glory which I had with Thee 
 before the foundation of the world." We 
 could have understood Him if He had said, " I 
 will that these whom Thou hast given me be 
 with me where I shall be, when Thou shalt 
 glorify me again with Thine own self." But 
 when He says, " be with me where I am, that 
 they may behold my glory," we are startled. 
 What glory had He now^ and here ? Had He 
 not just come to that hour which men called 
 the hour of His humiliation ? was He not on 
 the very borders of the valley of the shadow of 
 death 1 Surely it was the last spot where He 
 
78 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 should have wislied His disciples to behold 
 His glory. We should have expected Him to 
 have pointed them on to a time when this 
 shame would be compensated by the glory to 
 come ; instead of that He says that the glory 
 has already come, and that He only wishes 
 they were near enough to see it. He says, 
 "Father, I wish that these whom Thou hast 
 given me, these who think this the hour of my 
 humiliation, could see it as it really is — the 
 hour of my triumph ; I wish they could get so 
 close to my heart as to behold this hour in the 
 lisht that I behold it — tlie lio-ht of a oiorious 
 crown laid on the head of my humanity ; then 
 would their sorrow be turned into joy." 
 
 My soul, marvel not at this exaltation in 
 humiliation ; Christ's human glory was His 
 power to bear. When He said, "Father, the 
 hour is come ; glorify Thy Son, that Thy Son 
 may glorify Thee," He asked not salvation 
 from His hour, but strength in His hour. He 
 asked that He might be able to take the cup 
 with a hand tLat did not tremble, to say with 
 a voice that did not falter, "Not as I will, but 
 as Thou wilt." Canst thou be with Him where 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 79 
 
 He then was and belioM His glory ? Canst 
 thou see the conquest in His stooping, the 
 kinghood in His serving, the greatness in His 
 humility, the crown in His cross ? Canst thou 
 bow down before tlie majesty of that rod and 
 staff which comforted Him in the valley of the 
 shadow ? Canst thou adore the omnipotence 
 of that strength which could bear the burden 
 of a world without protest, could bear the sins 
 of a world without losing His love for an hour 1 
 Then thou hast reached the privilege which 
 thy Lord desired for thee, for thou hast seen 
 in kindred sympathy with Him that His day 
 of death was His day of glory. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 THE SPIRITUAL YEAR. 
 
 " Bringeth forth his fniii in his seasoti.''^ — Ps. i. 3. 
 
 There are four seasons in thy spiritual year 
 — the winter of desolation ; the buds of spring, 
 which tell of hope; the warmth of summer, 
 Avhich bespeaks the fulness of the heart ; and 
 the ingathering of autumn, which is the time 
 
8o- MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 fur life's practical fruits. Eacli season has its 
 fruit, and the fruit is in its turn golden. Do 
 not seek to change the order of God's spiritual 
 year, do not seek to put the fruits of one season 
 into the Lip of another. Thou must not expect 
 the buds of spring from the desolation of win- 
 ter, for desolation is the fruit of winter ; thou, 
 like Nicodemus, must begin thy journey in the 
 sense of nioht — nioht without a star. TIjou 
 must not expect the warmth of summer from 
 the buds of spring, for the fruit of spring is 
 not fruition but hope ; thou, like Peter, must 
 be content for a time to live on aspiration 
 alone. Thou must not expect the practical 
 inoatherinsc of autumn from the w^armth of 
 summer, for the fruit of summer is not action 
 but emotion ; thou, like John, must be content 
 to lie on the Master's bosom until thy time to 
 work for Him shall come. 
 
 Thou that hast revealed the order of 
 Thine acceptable year, reveal in my experience 
 the stages of that year. Help me to gather 
 the fruits of each season as good and perfect 
 gifts from Thee. AVhen I feel the sense of 
 night, let me accept it as the token that, like 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 8l 
 
 Nicodemiis, 1 am coming to 'J'1i<m\ When I 
 feel tlie sense of 1](^[)C, let me accept it as the 
 sign that, like Peter, I am called by Thee. 
 When I feel the sense of wai-mth, let me accept 
 it as the evidence that, like John, I rest on 
 Thee. When I feel the sense of power and am 
 inspired to gather in the fruits, let me accept 
 it as the pledge that I am bidden, like Paul, to 
 work for Thee. So shall my year be rounded, 
 hallowed, perfected. So shall my life be girt 
 about with Thee. The snows of its winter 
 shall be sanctified, the buds of its spring shall 
 be fostered, the foliage of its summer shall be 
 blest, the first-fruits of its autumn shall be 
 hailed with joy ; they shall proclaim that witli- 
 in my soul the year of the Lord has come. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 THE LIVING WAY. 
 *' By a new and living way." — Heb. x. 20. 
 
 It was a new way because it was a living way. 
 Men had hitherto been seeking in their reli- 
 
82 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 gion only a dying way. They Lad tliouglit 
 that Divine worship was something which was 
 good for helping human souls to cross the 
 valley of the shadow ; they had never thoughb 
 of it as mainly useful in helping human souls 
 to support the shadows of life. But when 
 He came He consecrated a new road to God. 
 He told me that I need not wait till the last 
 hour in order to find eternity, that I might 
 find it now. He told me that God's presence 
 could be reached without dying, that the 
 grandest death of the spirit \Yas the life of 
 love, that the most reasonable service for a 
 man was to present his body a living sacrifice, 
 holy, acceptable unto God. 
 
 My Father, shall I ofi'er Thee only my last 
 hours? Teach me Thy living way. Teach me 
 the life of Him who offered up His soul from 
 dawn to dark unceasingly, who poured out 
 on life's altar His childhood, His youth, His 
 manhood, one by one ; who gave Thee in turn 
 His Bethlehem, His Nazareth, His Calvary. 
 Help me to climb with Him the living ^Yay. 
 Help me through His Spirit to yield thee my 
 spirit. Let mc not wait to yield it till a 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 83 
 
 tlyiiig Lour. Give me the power of death in 
 the midst of life, the surrender of the will 
 amid the haunts of men. In the scenes of 
 busy labour, in the paths of anxious toil, in 
 the struggles for daily bread, in the hours of 
 silent trouble, in sorrow and in joy, in sick- 
 ness and in health, in poverty and in abund- 
 ance, help me to yield my soul to Thee and 
 say, "Father, into Thy hands I commend my 
 spirit ; " then shall my life on earth be the way 
 to heaven. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 THE PROGRESS OF THE DIVINE LIFE. 
 
 " J^or therein is the righteousness of God revealed from 
 faith to faith.'' — Rom. i. 17. 
 
 Feom faith to faith ! so runs the course of the 
 Gospel life. Therein is revealed the earthly 
 progress of a divinely-human soul. We see 
 Him rising from peak to peak in the ascent of 
 the mount of God, climbing the spheres of 
 earth from faith to faith. First there is faith 
 ill the home life, content to be in subjection, 
 
84 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 and waitiDor its time. Next tbere is faith on 
 the banks of Jordan, dedicating itself to a 
 Father's will. Then comes faith in the wilder- 
 ness — faith that can prove in temptation the 
 strength of its own vow. By and by tliere 
 comes a bigher test still — faith proved in 
 sorrow, faith nnder that Gethsemane shadow 
 which hid the very face of God. Lastly, there 
 is faith in death — faith strong in the utmost 
 weakness, crying Avith a loud voice, " It is 
 finished ! " 
 
 Son of Man, Son of God, who hast been 
 content to rise from the valley of my child- 
 hood, let me ascend on steps of Thee. Let me 
 rise through the stages of Thy life from faith 
 to faith. Give me the faith that can wait in 
 obscurity amid the trivial duties of the home 
 life. Give me the faith that can dedicate 
 itself amid tbe vision of an opened heaven. 
 Give me the faith that can stand on the 
 mount of temptation and see tbe kingdoms of 
 tbe world and the glory of them, and say, 
 "Thee only shall I serve." Give me the faith 
 that can enter within tbe shadow^s of Geth- 
 semane, and believe in tbat Father's smile 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 85 
 
 wliich it can no longer see. Give me the faith 
 that can enter that deeper darkness still — the 
 portals of the grave, and in that hour when 
 flesh and heart faint and fail can sinij with a 
 loud voice, " death ! where is thy sting ? 
 grave ! where is thy victory ? " 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 LOVE CONSTRAINING. 
 
 " T/ie love of Christ co7istraineth usT — 2 Cor. v. 14. 
 
 Strange gift this to come from love — con- 
 straint, narrowing, imprisonment. I can 
 understand love enlarging, love liberating, 
 love bringing out into the boundless expanse 
 and crowning with the mercies of freedom ; but 
 love constraining! — it is a startling, a repel- 
 ling thought. I have asked myself a thousand 
 times how the constraints of this world are 
 to be explained consistently with the love of 
 God. I have tried a hundred solutions of the 
 problem how Divine love can co-exist with so 
 many human limitations, but no solution of 
 
86 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 mine ever reached the boldness of this. I am 
 here told that there is no need of reconciliation 
 at all, that there is nothing to be reconciled, 
 that between love and constraint there is no 
 ground of controversy. I am told that con- 
 straint is itself the gift of love, — God's first 
 gift to my soul. I am told to see a friend 
 in that which I held to be an enemy, to claim 
 as an ally the imagined foe of my human 
 happiness. Love comes to me with a bitter 
 cup in her hand and says, " This cup is my 
 gift to thee : drink thou and be refresher]." 
 
 My soul, marvel not that the love of God 
 should first manifest itself in thy pain. Con- 
 straint is the first gift of all love — even of 
 human fatherhood. Was not thine earthly 
 childhood developed by sacrifice, by obedi- 
 ence to a law whose meaning thou couldst not 
 see ? Did not thine early intelligence expand 
 through a path of tears, expand through the 
 crushing of thine individual will and the 
 constraint of thine impetuous passions ? Thy 
 path of tears was an unconscious rainbow ; it 
 led thy soul aloft on an arch of triumpl]. It 
 was only from the summit of the arch that 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. S7 
 
 thou couldst tell how really glorious was thy 
 path of tears. So shall it be with thy larger 
 retrospect. When from the summit of a com- 
 pleted experience thou shalt look back, thou 
 shalt marvel at the glory of the way. The most 
 glorious spots of that way shall just be the 
 sj)ots that, when thou wert passing by, appeared 
 to have no glory. The places which shall be 
 most filled with light shall be thy dark places 
 — the scenes that seemed to thee thy blots on 
 the page of life. Thou shalt see that in these 
 were thy true gifts of fortune. Thou shalt 
 learn that the days called adverse were the 
 making of thee, that the seasons of thy spiri- 
 tual growth were the hours of thy night. 
 And when thou countest up the gifts of Divine 
 love, thou shalt class amono;st the bris^litest of 
 them all those that, in the course of the 
 journey, came to thee as denials of thy prayer; 
 thou shalt look upon the crosses of thy life and 
 say, " The love of Christ constrained me." 
 
88 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT, 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 HUMAN INSTRUMENTALITY. 
 
 " And He took the seven loaves and the fishes, and gave 
 thanks, and brake them, and gave to His disciples, 
 and the disciples to the multitude." — Matt. xv. 36. 
 
 And so tliere are secondary causes in tlie 
 spiritual as well as in the natural world. 
 Christ was here breaking the bread to the 
 multitude, but He does not give it to the 
 multitude directly ; He gives it through a 
 medium. He puts it into the hands of the 
 disciples and tells them to give it ; the Divine 
 blessing comes through a secular clianuel. So 
 is it ever with the providence of God. He 
 sends the bread to feed my soul, but He sends 
 it through earthly ministers, sometimes in 
 earthen vessels. He sends it through the 
 laws which I call nature's laws, through the 
 changes which I call life's changes, through 
 the troubles which I call the troubles of 
 humanity. He sends it by the most common- 
 place conveyances, by the most trivial incidents. 
 
MOMENTS UN THE MOUNT. 89 
 
 by the most unlikely contingencies ; I am 
 every day, every hour, every moment in the 
 presence of the messengers of God. Do I 
 marvel that the ravens fed Elijah in the 
 wilderness ? I am every instant fed by 
 emissaries as untoward as these. All the 
 influences of life, however unpleasing, are in 
 some sense ministering to me ; even the lives 
 that come into conflict with mine are uncon- 
 sciously ministering to mine. The bread from 
 the hands of my God reaches me through the 
 myriad hands of men. 
 
 Lord, make me one of Thy secondary causes. 
 I must be so with or without my will, for all 
 things must bend to Thy Divine purpose. 
 But it is not without my will that I desire to 
 serve Thee. I would not be a mere mechanical 
 agent in Thy universe, like the sun by day or 
 the moon and stars by night ; I would serve 
 Thee voluntarily, freely, designedly. I would 
 be the conscious distributer of Thy bread to 
 the famished crowd, the conscious minister of 
 Thy strength to the fainting multitude. I 
 would take into my hands the bread which 
 Thou hast broken, and in my turn I would 
 
90 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 break it anew. I woulJ receive from Thee 
 Thine own spirit of sacrifice — Thy life broken 
 by love. I wonld receive from Thee Thine 
 own human burden, the burden of sympathy 
 with the wants and woes of man. I would 
 receive from Thee Thy best, Thy divinest gift 
 — the power and the will to give. Help me 
 to give to others what Thou hast given to me. 
 Thou hast given me Thyself. That which 
 Thou hast broken for me is more than the 
 bread ; it is Thine own spirit. Give me that 
 spirit of Thine to break for my brother man. 
 Help me to lose myself for him, to forget my- 
 self in him, to hide myself in him. Let me 
 be wounded with his wounds, afflicted with 
 his stripes, pained with his sorrows, humi- 
 liated with his humiliation. Let me be so 
 identified with him that there shall be one 
 common cross between us, one common load 
 to bear ; then shall I break for him the bread 
 Thou hast broken for me. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 91 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 THE CHOICE OF MANHOOD. 
 
 ^'^ By faith Moses, when he was come to years, refused to he 
 called the son of Pharaoh's daughter ; esteeming the 
 reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures in 
 Egypt.'' — Heb. xi. 24, 26. 
 
 The reproach of Christ ! how could that be 
 a motive to Moses ? Did Moses know any- 
 thing about Christ ? Perhaj^s not, but he 
 was bearing His reproach. He was passiuo- 
 through in anticipation that very choice of 
 alternatives whose decision constituted the 
 reproach of his Lord. What was the reproach 
 of Christ % It was His preference of the 
 internal to the external. He stood on the 
 mount of temptation, and into each hand 
 was put a separate cup — into the one a cup 
 of worldly glory, into the other a cup of 
 spiritual sacrifice. He chose the latter, and 
 that was His reproach ; He preferred the service 
 of His Father to the kingdoms of the world 
 and the glory of them. Even so did Moses by 
 the power of the selfsame spirit; he refused 
 
52 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 to be called the son of Pharaoh's daiio-liter, lie 
 chose rather to go down into the valleys to 
 suffer affliction with the people of God. Un- 
 consciously to himself he was in communion 
 with the life divinely human, in sympathy 
 with the spirit of Him who preferred the cross 
 to the visible crown ; he Was bearing the re- 
 proach of Jesus. 
 
 My soul, there is a time when thou too art 
 called to stand upon the mountain's brow. 
 There is a time when to thee, as to Moses, there 
 comes a choice of alternatives, when the trea- 
 sures of Egypt lie on the one hand and the 
 life of sacrifice besets thee on the other. It is 
 the crisis-hour of all thy life — the hour in 
 which thou hast finished the ascending course 
 of youth, and hast reached at its summit the 
 tableland of manhood. What shall that man- 
 hood be ? on thy decision of this choice the 
 answer must depend. Shall it be a manhood 
 of visible glitter and empty show, of outward 
 pomp and selfish ambition, of Judaic pride 
 and Messianic majesty ? or shall it be a man- 
 hood of human care and individual sympathy, 
 of heartfelt responsibility and sacrificial love, 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 93 
 
 of earnest devotion and Christ-like stooping? 
 This is the latest choice of thy youth, my 
 soul. Son of Man, help me to choose with 
 Thee. Help me to refuse the gold and take 
 the cross. Help me to go down with Thee 
 into the valley of humiliation. Help me to 
 join the band of human sufferers who have 
 never seen the glory of the mountain's brow. 
 Let the sense of a common reproach unite my 
 heart to Thine ; so shall my cross be greater 
 riches than all the treasures of Egypt. 
 
 XL. 
 
 AN UNSELFISH SEEKING FOR REWARD. 
 
 " For he had respect unto the nronipcnse of the reward." — 
 Heb. xi. 26. 
 
 Stuange conclusion this wdth which to wind 
 up the eulogium of a human character. We 
 have just been told how unselfish has been the 
 life of Moses, how he has preferred the reproach 
 of Christ to the treasures in Egypt. And now 
 we seem to be told that it was but selfishness 
 after all, that all the time of his sacrifice he 
 
94 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 had a motive beyond the sacrifice, that he was 
 seeking the reward of sacrifice. Yes, but what 
 is the reward of sacrifice ? It is the power to 
 do good without it. All virtue is at first pain- 
 ful, but if we persevere in the pain it shall at 
 last vanish away, and leave naught but the 
 virtue behind. The reward of sacrifice is the 
 joy of sacrifice ; it is the power to say, I once 
 struggled to be unselfish, but it would now be 
 a struggle to be aught beside. It is the joy of 
 getting that as my nature which I once had 
 for my task, of being able to do by instinct 
 what I once performed by rule. The recom- 
 pense of the reward which Moses sought was 
 to be made perfectly unselfish ; it was the 
 strength to give more abundantly, to give 
 without pain, Avithout struggle, without re- 
 luctance, without one longing memory of the 
 treasures left behind. And verily that recom- 
 pense was his. Meekness became to him a 
 second nature. The impetuous youth that 
 slew the Egyptian subsided into the man that 
 was content to he slain, to die daily for the 
 brotherhood of human souls, to lose even his 
 promised land that Joshua might enter in. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 95 
 
 lliou, too, niavst have this recompense. If 
 tliou wilt accept the strait gate and the narrow 
 way in its straitness and in its narrowness, 
 it shall ere long become to thee a way of 
 pleasantness and a path of peace. Thou shalt 
 be loosed from the bonds that fetter thine 
 own deeds, loosed not from without but from 
 within. Thy cross shall not be lifted, but it 
 shall be transformed into a crown ; thy tasks 
 shall not be remitted, but they shall be trans- 
 figured into joys. Thy law shall become thy 
 love, thy duty shall become thy delight, thy 
 service shall become thy freedom. The steep 
 of thy Calvary shall be crowned by the heights 
 of Olivet, and without turning from thy path 
 thou shalt enter into thy glory. When thou 
 hast reached the joy of sacrifice thou hast 
 received the recompense of the reward. 
 
96 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 THE VOICE IN THE TABERNACLE. 
 
 " And when Moses was gone into the tabernacle of the 
 congregation to speak with Him, then he heard the 
 voice of one speaking utito him from off the mercy- 
 seat." — Num. vii. 89. 
 
 When Moses was gone into tlie tabernacle, 
 then lie heard the voice. It is not said that 
 the voice then began to speak ; rather the 
 contrary is implied. The voice would seem to 
 have been speaking all along, but it was only 
 now that Moses heard it. Why did he hear 
 it now ? It was because now for the first 
 time he had put himself in the attitude of 
 hearing. It was when he entered into the 
 tabernacle, it was when he began himself to 
 speak with God, that there woke within him 
 the conviction that God had all the time been 
 speaking with him. 
 
 My soul, it must be the same with thee. 
 Often art thou crying in the silence of the 
 night that no Divine voice has visited thee. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 97 
 
 Nay, but hast thou only listened for it with the 
 ear of sense ? If so, it is no marvel that thou 
 hast missed its music. The voice of God 
 cannot be heard by the ear of sense ; its tones 
 make no impression on the surrounding air, 
 they stir not the waves of the earthly atmo- 
 sphere. Its accents are too still and small to 
 be caught by the natural ear ; they are speak- 
 ing incessantly, but they are drowned by 
 the thunder, the earthquake, and the fire. If 
 thou wouldst hear them thou must enter the 
 inner tabernacle, thou must open the inner 
 ear. Hast thou not read how in the days of 
 old the miracle was only wrought to faith ? 
 Why was the miracle only wrought to faith ? 
 Not because God is narrow, but because truth 
 is broad. The eye cannot see music, the ear 
 cannot hear colours ; neither can the natural 
 receive the spiritual. Faith is the vision of 
 the soul, the audience-chamber of the soul. 
 Within its holy temple there are voices in- 
 numerable — interpreters of all other voices. 
 Here music waits for thee, here sunbeams 
 watch for thee, here the mystery of life unveils 
 herself to be ready for thy coming. When 
 
 G 
 
98 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 thou slialt enter into tlie secr'et of God's 
 pavilion to speak with Him, there shall break 
 upon thy heart the wondrous revelation that 
 all thy life He has been speaking with thee. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 TARRYING UNDER THE CLOUD. 
 
 " yind lulien the cloud tarried long tipon the tabernacle 
 mafiy days, then the children of Is?-ael kept the charge 
 of the Lord, and Journeyed not." — Num. ix. 19. 
 
 It would be well for us if we could repeat this 
 experience. Our practice is to journey after 
 the cloud has come. We are proud of our 
 intellectual clouds ; wo, like to travel in. the 
 strength of them, to let men see that we are 
 influenced by them. We make parade of our 
 doubt as if doubt were the symbol of plenty ; 
 we forget that it is the sio-n of want. Is there 
 not a better, a more excellent w^ay ? To thee, 
 as to all men, there must come moments of 
 darkness, moments when, like the Psalmist, 
 thou shalt cry, " Verily Thou art a God that 
 hidest Thyself." But it is not well for thee 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 99 
 
 to jour ncTj in the darkness. It is not well for 
 thee to go forth proclaiming to all the world 
 that the shadows of an intellectual iiio-ht have 
 fallen upon thee, that truths once bright have 
 become dim, that hopes once dear have be- 
 come clouded. To-morrow the shades may 
 all have passed away ; morning may have 
 come back to thy heart, and thy first faith 
 may have risen in resurrection from the 
 depths of night. And yet thy restoration 
 may not restore the harm thou hast wrought 
 on thy journey. What if thou hast affected 
 others with thy clouds ? what if thou hast im- 
 pressed thy fellow-men with the gloom of 
 thine own night? Their day may not come 
 back when thy night shall vanish. Beware, 
 therefore, my soul, what thou shalt do 
 under thy cloud. Beware that thou dost 
 not journey while the shadow remains upon 
 thee. Beware that thou dost not pro- 
 pagate in the hearts of others that which 
 may only be transient in thine own. Be it 
 thine to rest in secret while the cloud is hanof- 
 ing over thee, be it thine to tarry within while 
 the shadow of doubt is overhead. One day 
 
lOO MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 thou slialt bless God that thou didst not 
 journey, one day thou shalt rejoice that the 
 cloud was kept secret in the depths of thy 
 heart. For the cloud shall not be eternal. 
 The sun of early hope shall rise, and the buds 
 of early spring shall open, and the time for 
 the singing of birds shall come, and then thou 
 shalt be glad with an exceeding great joy. 
 Thou shalt be o:lad that thou hast not revealed 
 thy darkness, that thou hast not allowed the 
 impressions of one misty hour to shade the 
 eyes and disturb the thoughts of other men. 
 When the cloud tarries upon thy tabernacle, 
 keep the charge of the Lord and journey not. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 THE VALUE OF PAIN. 
 
 *^ Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise Him ; . . . 7c>/ien TJioii 
 shalt make His soul an offerijig for si/i, He shall see 
 His seed, He shall prolong His days, a fid the pleasure 
 of the Lord shall prosper in His hand." — Isa. liii. lo. 
 
 " It pleased the Lord to bruise Him ! " Strange 
 pleasure this surely to dwell in the heart of the 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. loi 
 
 All-Beiieficent. Is it not the nature of the 
 heavenly Father to give joy ? Does He not 
 deli'sht rather in the hing-hter than in the tears 
 of men ? Why then should He find pleasure in 
 the bruises of that heart in which there was no 
 violence and no guile. Nay, but look deeper. 
 The prophet tells us that the bruises of the 
 Servant of God were the source of His pros- 
 perity : " When Thou shalt make His soul an 
 offering, He shall prolong His days." Wher- 
 ever the soul is offered, wherever the will is 
 given, there is a fresh access of life. Did not 
 He find it so in the garden of Gethsemane ? 
 When did the anojels come to Him with that 
 strength which prolonged His days ? Was it 
 not when He took the Father's cup in His 
 hand and said, "Not as I will, but as Thou 
 wilt." No wonder that the Father was pleased 
 to bruise Him ; the bruising of His soul was 
 the surrender of His will, and the surrender of 
 His will was resurrection begun. The pressure 
 of the flower brought out its perfume ; the 
 breaking of the alabaster box diffused its 
 fras^rance till it filled all the house. It recom- 
 pensed the Father for tlie unloveliness of the 
 
I02 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 ]»ast ; it made atonement for the sins of the 
 world. 
 
 Art thou chafiog under the hand of thy 
 God ? art thou murmurins: that He should 
 seem to look on complacently while thy desire 
 is being thwarted, while thy will is being 
 denied ? What if He is complacent ? what if 
 He is pleased to bruise thee ? Thinkest thou 
 that there cannot be a Divine benevolence 
 which rejoices in thy moment of pain ? Knovv- 
 est thou not that there is a pain which gives 
 cause for rejoicing ? There is a pain which is 
 the proof of convalescence, the sign that death 
 is not yet. There is a pain which tells that 
 the wound has not mortified, that there is life 
 left in the mutilated member. There is a pain 
 which is symptomatic of purity, which grows 
 with the progress of purity, which cannot be 
 felt by the impure. No conscience can feel, 
 the wound of sin but the tender conscience, 
 no spirit can perceive its own unrest but the 
 regenerated sj)irit. Ought not the sight of 
 such pain to be dear to thy Father's heart ? 
 must not thy Father strive to produce such 
 pain? What pleasure to Him can be the vision 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 103 
 
 of tliy perfect satisfaction with the earth ; 
 what is that but the vision that thou wert not 
 made for Him. But if He shall see thee 
 unsatisfied with the earth, if He shall make 
 thee unsatisfied with the earth, then, indeed, 
 it is meet that He should be glad, for, by the 
 very want which earth cannot fill, He knows 
 assuredly that thou art made for Himself alone. 
 It is pleasing to thy Father's heart to see the 
 travail of thy soul. 
 
 XLTV. 
 
 SPIRITUAL RESURRECTION. 
 
 "Son o/man, can these bones live?" — Ezek xxxvii. 3. 
 
 There are four degrees of wonderfulness in the 
 Divine miracle of raising the dead. Some are 
 like the daughter of Jairus ; corruption has 
 but begun when the arresting hand comes, and 
 they revive. Some are like the youth of 
 Nain ; they are already on the road to burial 
 when the mandate meets them, "Arise." 
 Some are like Lazarus of Bethany ; they are 
 
I04 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 already in the grave, corruption is not merely 
 begun, but almost perfected, when the summons 
 is heard, " Come forth." There is one stage 
 more wonderful still; it is that of Ezekiel's 
 vision. There we seem to have reached the 
 climax of impossibilities. It is not merely 
 death that we see, it is not merely burial, it is 
 not merely corruption begun, it is not merely 
 corruption in its closing stage ; it is complete 
 disintegration, it is the last result of decay. 
 The bones are already scattered in the valley, 
 and there is no sign remaining that they once 
 had life. Could there be hope even for these? 
 The prophet was doubtful, but He with whom 
 he spake was not. There is more charity in 
 the heart of God than in the heart of man. 
 Finite love always despairs ; Infinite Love 
 hopes boundlessly, unfathomably. It descends 
 into the depths to seek and to save. It goes 
 down to the valleys in search of the earth's 
 rejected ones. It inquires for the lepers, the 
 demoniacs, the Magdalenes whom the world 
 has cast out. It weeps for those ruins of 
 Jerusalem over which man rejoices, and its tears 
 are not unprophetic of a redemptive hope. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 105 
 
 My soul, never lose tliy hope in the soul. 
 However low it may have desceiidecl, however 
 Immiliating may be its valley, keep warm for 
 it the fire of thy charity. Though it be 
 already dead, though corruptiou be begun, 
 though corruption be completed, though the 
 last stage of disintegration be perfected, hope 
 for it still. Let thy hope be the measure of 
 thy love ; where there is love there must be 
 hope. It is not when thy vision is blackest 
 that thy love is strongest. Art thou tempted 
 to despair of humanity ? Go and kindle thy 
 devotion anew at the heart of Him who has 
 borue its sitis and carried its sorrows. Go and 
 light thy torch at the glow of His life, who 
 believed all things and hoped all things even 
 whilst He endured all things. Then shalt 
 thou despair no more, for in that glass of love 
 wherein thou shalt behold His glory, thou 
 shalt see His glory to be a ransomed soul. 
 
lo6 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 RELIGIOUS FEELING AND RELIGIOUS 
 THOUGHT. 
 
 " One thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek 
 after ; that I may divell in the house of the Lord all 
 the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, 
 and to inquire i?i His temple." — Ps. xxvii. 4. 
 
 There were two reasons why the Psalmist 
 desired to dwell in the house of the Lord — he 
 wanted to behold, and he wanted to inquire. 
 Beholding and inquiring, the vision of the 
 beauty and the study of the truth, make up 
 together the perfect way. AVithout either of 
 these our religion is a maimed relio^ion. To 
 behold the beauty without inquiring is mere 
 sentiment, to inquire without beholding the 
 beauty is mere criticism; perfect faith unites 
 both. Yet there is an order in their union ; 
 the beholding of the beauty comes first. I 
 cannot with any profit begin to inquire until 
 I have begun to gaze ; I cannot understand the 
 reason until I have felt the power. Often 
 have I marked these words of the Psalmist, 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 107 
 
 " .^cnd out Thy light and Th-y tmth ; let 
 them lead me." He asks for the light before 
 the truth ; he desires the beauty before the 
 knowledge. So have I ever felt that it must 
 be with me. I would not pray for truth until 
 I have prayed for light ; I would not ask to 
 inquire until I have learned to see. I feel 
 that the house of my God is a house of 
 mysteries. It has recesses which I cannot 
 explore, it has secrets which I cannot fathom ; 
 but if I am allowed to gaze on its beauty I can 
 afford to wait, if I am suffered to feel its 
 splendour I can defer my right to search out 
 its treasures. 
 
 Thou who art fairer than the children of 
 men, suffer me before all things to feast mine 
 eyes on Thee. I may not be able any more 
 than Nicodemus to assign the proof of Thy 
 mission, but help me, unlike Nicodemus, to see 
 the kingdom of God. Clouds and darkness 
 are still round about my intellect, and my 
 understanding can only cry, " the depth ; " 
 but if Thou shalt open tlie eye of my heart I 
 shall be independent of these. If Thou shalt 
 suffer me to gaze on Thy beauty, I shall have 
 
lo8 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 Thy light in anticipation of Thy truth, and in 
 the streno'th of that lio-ht I shall g-o unto thine 
 
 o o o 
 
 altar with exceeding joy. I would approach 
 the problems of life with no other torch than 
 thine ; be Thou Thine own interpreter, in Thy 
 lio-ht let me see liuht. I shall both hear Thee 
 and ask Thee questions when I have caught a 
 vision of Thyself; when I have beheld Thy 
 beauty I shall inquire in Thy tabernacle. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF DIVINE VISION. 
 
 " Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-jo7ia : for flesh and blood 
 hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is 
 in heaven^ — Matt. xvi. 1 7. 
 
 The Master is not here pronouncing a bless- 
 ing on Peter; He is declaring that Peter is 
 already blessed. He is not promisiug him a 
 place in the beatitudes of a future heaven ; He 
 is proclaiming the truth that he has reached 
 even now the heavenly beatific joy, " Blessed 
 art thou." We speak of the dead as among the 
 blessed, yet the living as well as the dead may 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 109 
 
 reach the goal of blessedness. Why did the 
 Master pronounce Peter blessed ? It was 
 because he had reached in life what is supposed 
 to be the boon only of death — the joy of 
 revelation. Is there to thee any blessedness 
 equal to that, anything which thou wouldst 
 choose in comparison with that ? Hast thou 
 too not felt at times the joy of a revelation 
 which flesh and blood could never irive, the 
 rapture of seeing further than the bodily eye 
 can see, of hearing further than the bodily ear 
 can hear ? When thou hast stood upon the 
 margin of the shore and surveyed far and wide 
 the expanse of waters, and when there has 
 risen within thee a sense of the boundless, 
 the infinite, the divine, what is that which 
 has made thy blessedness ? It is the know- 
 ledge that something has been revealed to thee 
 which flesh and blood could not have revealed. 
 What gave thee that sense of the boundless ? 
 Not the sea, for the sea was itself limited, and 
 the finite cannot wake the infinite. It came 
 from no material source ; flesh and blood did 
 not reveal it unto thee, but thy Father which 
 is in heaven. That was the knowledge which 
 
no MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 made thee blessed in beliolding the expanse of 
 waters — tlie knowledoje that thou wert Larofer 
 than they. Yea, and that blessedness should 
 be thine always, everywhere. For, indeed, 
 thou art larger than all materialisms, my 
 soul. Flesh and. blood could never have re- 
 revealed to thee any of the things which make 
 thee man. Even the visible form of the 
 Christ would not have revealed to thee His 
 beauty ; if thou hast seen His beauty, it is by 
 another eye than sense. If thy heart has 
 burned as He talked with thee by the way, if 
 thine aspiration has soared as He pointed thee 
 to the mount of God, it can only be because 
 thy heart is already one with His heart, be- 
 cause thine aspiration is already harmonious 
 with His holy will. Thou couldst not have 
 seen Him as He is if thou hadst not been like 
 Him, for the divine alone can recognise the 
 divine. The mutual recognition is the proof 
 of a kindred spirit : " Blessed art thou." 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. ill 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 THE IMMEDIATE VISION OF GOD. 
 
 " If there be a prophet among yoti, I the Lord will make 
 myself known unto hiin in a vision, and 7vill speak 
 unto him in a dream. My servant Moses is not so, 
 who is faithful in all mine house. With him will I 
 speak mouth to mouth." — Num. xii. 6-8. 
 
 They tell us that in the old days men 
 were superstitious, that they could only see 
 God in visious and in dreams. But in the 
 oldest days of all it \Yas not so. Here is a 
 very ancient book which makes the visions 
 and the dreams the marks not of a higher, but 
 of a lower revelation. We are apt to think 
 that the most privileged men of the Bible 
 were the men who had visions ; here the 
 reverse is assumed. It is taken for granted 
 that Moses was more privileged than otliers 
 just because he had no visions. The ordinary 
 prophet saw God only in the symbol ; Moses 
 was rewarded for his fidelity by seeing no 
 symbol, beholding no vision, receiving no 
 
ti2 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 dream, but by speaking with God in the liglit 
 of opeu day. 
 
 For me, too, there is deep meaning in these 
 words of the ancient book. Often have I 
 complained within myself that my life has 
 fallen on evil days. Often have I longed to 
 get back to the times of miracle, of vision, 
 and of dream, and have held those to be 
 specially favoured who were thus permitted 
 to commune with God. Yet the judgment of 
 these times themselves was very different ; it 
 prized more the lot which has fallen to me. 
 It held those to be the least favoured who did 
 not see God face to face, nor speak with Him 
 mouth to mouth, but who beheld Him only 
 through the miraculous cloud and fire. There- 
 fore, my soul, weep not for the miraculous 
 messengers, for the pillar of cloud by day, 
 and the pillar of fire by night. Thine is a 
 higher privilege than to see God through 
 intermediaries ; thou canst see Him for thy- 
 self. The messengers are withdrawn, but only 
 because the King himself has come. What 
 need for thee to hear voices in the night, 
 when by night and day thou hast one per- 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 113 
 
 petual voice ? What need for thee to see 
 special visions, when all sense is one con- 
 tinuous vision — the vision of His divine 
 garment as His presence passes by ? What 
 need for thee to receive at intervals the fallinPf 
 manna, when thou canst partake every hour 
 and every moment of that gift of natural 
 beneficence — the old corn of the land 1 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 THE KEY TO GOD'S SILENCE. 
 
 " IVe shall all be changed." — i Cor. xv. 51. 
 
 Often have I asked myself, Why is it that 
 the religion of the Son of Man is so silent 
 about the destiny of the sons of men ? He 
 has told us of many mansions, but He has not 
 revealed their form. Other masters have been 
 explicit, minute, detailed in their descriptions 
 of the comiijg heaven, but the verdict even of 
 Christ's most beloved disciple is this : " It 
 doth not yet appear what we shall be." And 
 
 H 
 
114 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 here is the key to the whole silence : before we 
 reach heaven " we shall all be chanofed." It 
 is as if it were said : What is the use of 
 describing the joys of heaven ? they would 
 not be joys to you as yet. You would not 
 tell the child of the pleasures he shall have 
 when he becomes a man. And why ? because 
 the pleasantness of these pleasures is now 
 beyond him. He would shed bitter tears to 
 be told that in the time to come he should 
 rejoice in that which is not play — in study, in 
 work, in care, in responsibility, in duty. He 
 shall see the glory of these things when he 
 himself shall be chansfed. 
 
 Thou who art crying for a new revelation of 
 heaven, art thou ready for thy wish ? Would 
 it be to thee a joy if there were revealed to thee 
 the pleasures at God's right hand 1 What if 
 these pleasures should be what the selfish man 
 calls pain ? Knowest thou not that the joys of 
 love are not the joys of lovelessness 1 Love's 
 joy is the surrender of itself; the joy of love- 
 lessness is the keeping of itself. If heaven 
 Wore open to thy vision, the siglit might startle 
 thee; thou mightst call for the rocks to hide 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 115 
 
 thee, for the mountains to cover thee from the 
 view. To make the revelation a joy to thee 
 thou thyself must be changed into the same 
 image. It is not every soul that can rejoice to 
 be a ministering spirit sent forth to minister to 
 the heirs of salvation ; to rejoice in it fully we 
 must all be changed. If death were abolished 
 to-day it would not free thee from that need. 
 It is not death that demands thy change ; it 
 is life. It is not death that brings thy change; 
 it is the Spirit of the Christ. Thou needst not 
 wait for death to find thy change, for the 
 Spirit too can transform in a moment, in the 
 twinkling of an eye. Blessed are they who 
 shall not taste of death until they shall see 
 the kingdom of God. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 PEACE BETTER THAN JOY. 
 
 *' Son, thou art ever with vie, and all that I have is 
 thine." — Luke xv. 31. 
 
 The elder brother was surprised at the prodi- 
 gal's joy, surprised that such a joy should have 
 
It6 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 been vonclisafed to liini. He saw him in the 
 experience of a rapture which he himself had 
 never possessed and could not now command, 
 and it seemed for the time an incongruous 
 thin Of. He had lived all his life in his father's 
 house, and had never strayed from the haunts 
 of home, yet he had never known the ecstasy 
 of the human spirit ; his brother had only now 
 wakened to the thought of home, and his 
 heart was on fire with joy. Was the elder son 
 inferior by reason of this greater calm ? Not 
 so thought the Father. " Son, thou art ever 
 with me, and all that I have is thine." To 
 Him the greater calm was a proof of greater 
 nearness. It was just because there had been 
 no interruption in the home-life that there was 
 no place for ecstasy. This man had never seen 
 aught but beauty, never heard aught but 
 music ; wherefore should he cry out in rap- 
 ture at a scene or break forth into ecstasy at a 
 song "? God's breath was in him every moment, 
 every hour, every day ; why should he be ex- 
 cited by that which to him was no new thing 1 
 Verily, peace was from him a higher tribute 
 than joy. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 117 
 
 My soul, do not undervalue thy peace. Do 
 not say that the calm that has never left a 
 Father's house is inferior to the flutter that 
 has waked in coming home. It is not inferior, 
 it is brighter, purer. He who has gone forth 
 iuto the far country and wasted his substance 
 in riotous living may in his return experience 
 a joy of contrast which others cannot know, 
 for the transition from midnight into day 
 must indeed be dazzling, radiant. Yet me- 
 thinks it is better to have the day without the 
 nio-ht, the home without the exile, the calm 
 without the storm. There may be less joy, but 
 there will be more peace ; there will be less 
 marvel, but there will be more permanence. 
 To breathe the breath of God as a natural 
 atmosphere — that is the highest blessing, and 
 the highest tribute of Infinite Love is this : 
 " Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I 
 have is thine." 
 
Ii8 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 L. 
 
 OBEDIENCE BETTER THAN SACRIFICE. 
 ^^ Behold, to obey is better than sacrijice.'" — i Sam. xv. 22. 
 
 When Samuel spoke these words he was a 
 Christian. In that moment he had leapt the 
 gulf of centuries, and left his nation far behind. 
 He had caught the glimmer of a new and 
 better sun — the Lioht that waited to lisfhten 
 every man. AVell might he cry to his country- 
 men, "Behold ! " for the thing he was about to 
 utter was to them a startling thing. They 
 had thought that the crown of religion was 
 sacrifice, pain, the sense of privation and 
 suffering ; he tells them that the crown of 
 religion is the abolition of the sense of pain, 
 the overcoming of the feeling of privation. 
 He tells them that the crown of religion is to 
 obey, to yield the will, to surrender the life, to 
 have a heart harmonious with the thins^ com- 
 manded. Not the pain but the painlessness 
 was the glory, not the suffering involved in the 
 doing, but the delight with which the work was 
 done ; to obey was better tlian sacrifice. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 119 
 
 Thou that desirest not sacrifice, that seek- 
 est not the pain but the glory of Tliy people, 
 let me enter into Thy joy — the joy of my 
 Lord. Let me enter into that joy whose 
 delight was to do Thy will, into that rest that 
 under the shadow of a cross could say, " Peace 
 I leave with you ; my peace I give unto you." 
 Let me be dead to the law through His spirit 
 of universal love ; let the sense of duty itself 
 be transcended in the thought of glorious pri- 
 vilege. There is no pain in love any more 
 than there is fear. Why should I measure my 
 piety by my misery ? why should grace be 
 high when the temperature of nature is low ? 
 It is not my penance that brings me near to 
 Thee ; it is my penance that proves me to be 
 still distant from Thee. When I shall touch 
 Thee there shall be no more penance, no more 
 night, no more sea, no more sacrifice. I shall 
 have reached that perfect obedience which is 
 perfect love, and therefore perfect painless- 
 ness. The chains shall fall from me, the 
 clouds shall melt from nie, the shadows shall 
 fly from me, and in the spirit of Him who has 
 conquered not only death but sacrifice, I too 
 
I20 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 shall be able to say, " Lo, I come ; 1 delight 
 to do Thy will." 
 
 LI. 
 
 THE CURE FOR PAIN. 
 
 " Afid Elijah said unto her, Fear not ; go and do as thou 
 hast said : but make me thereof a little cai:e first, 
 and bring it unto me, and after malie for thee and Jor 
 thy son." — i Kings xvii. 13. 
 
 A WONDERFULLY suggestive picture I The pro- 
 phet of God brings to a starving woman the 
 revelation of coming plenty, and He tells her 
 to work on the faith of its coming. But 
 strange to say, she is to begin her work not by 
 getting but by giving. Her first gathering is 
 to be not for herself but for another — for the 
 prophet of God : " Make me a little cake first, 
 and after make for thee and for thy son." Do 
 not wonder at such a command. Do not 
 think that it implied any coldness in the heart 
 of the prophet, any indifi'erence to human 
 want, any ignorance of the pains of poverty. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 121 
 
 It was a command sublimely benevolent, far- 
 reaching in its appreciation of the needs of 
 man. Is not our first need, whether in things 
 spiritual or things temporal, to be lifted out of 
 ourselves ? Self-thought is the deepest source 
 of our pain. Am I oppressed with the burden 
 and heat of the day ? it will do me no good to 
 dwell upon it, it will only be increased by 
 meditation. Let me remember that other 
 souls are also weighed down by the same 
 burden and the same heat, that other hearts 
 are also heavy with a like labour and laden- 
 ness. If I can remember this, my own burden 
 shall fall from me ; if I can give first to others 
 I shall be strong to procure for myself- There- 
 fore, my sou], there is for thee a deep meaning 
 in this picture. Art thou in trouble ? others 
 are in trouble. Art thou in bereavement ? 
 there is not a house without its vacant chair. 
 Art thou perplexed with mystery ? thou hast 
 a fellowship in the mystery. Hast thou no 
 thouQ-ht for those who suffer what thou suffer- 
 est 1 arise and look around thee. There are 
 hearts to be bound like thine, there are tears 
 to be dried like thine, there are days to be 
 
■122 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 illumined like thine. Tby very sorrow has 
 put a gift into thj hand — sympathy. Give it, 
 and the store of thine own strensfth shall be 
 increased. Go forth from thyself but for an 
 hour, and verily on thy return thou shalt find 
 the old place radiant with a new light, beauti- 
 ful with a new glory, holy with a new spirit — 
 the Spirit of the Lord. 
 
 LII. 
 
 GOD'S PROMISE OF PROSPERITY. 
 " WJiaisoever he doeth shall prosper.'" — Ps. i. 3. 
 
 Our first thought is, what a grand promise, 
 what an incentive to the o-ood man to he oood ! 
 Who would not be a saint to have such purple 
 and fine linen and sumptuous faring every 
 day, to have a passport tlj rough the world to 
 fortune, to be promised that in all things he 
 should prosper ? Our second thought is, is 
 it true ? Do we see that the saint prospers 
 in whatsoever he doeth ? Does it not rather 
 seem as if the man of God were the man of 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 123 
 
 special burdens, labouring more than others, 
 heavy laden alcove his fellows. Our third 
 thought is, have we rightly read the promise ? 
 Does it mean what we have taken it to mean ? 
 Is it really said that the goo'd man shall pros- 
 per in whatsoever he doeth ? Nay, but some- 
 thing very different is said, " Whatsoever he 
 doeth shall prosper." The Psalmist is not 
 thinking of the man, but of the work. The 
 prosperity which he promises is not the earthly 
 triumph of the individual, but the earthly 
 triumph of the truth which he proclaims. 
 The man himself may die ere his work be 
 done. Moses may sink weary by the wayside 
 and the commonplace Joshua in his room 
 may enter in, but his work shall not die, it 
 shall be found again after many days : 
 " Whatsoever he doeth shall prosper." 
 
 Does this seem to thee a less glorious 
 reading of the promise ? If thou art a man of 
 God it cannot do so. To the man of God 
 there is nothing so dear as the work of God. 
 No promise would to him be so sweet as the 
 prosperity of tliat work, not even the promise 
 of his own prosperity. Art thou dearer to 
 
124 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 thyself tlian thy work ? tlien tliou art not yet 
 fit to be a worker. If thou shalt stand on 
 Mount Nebo and behold the Promised Land 
 of thine own labours which yet thou thyself 
 shalt never reach, wilt thou weep because 
 Joshua shall enter in ? If so, it shall not be 
 written of thee, " His eye was not dim, nor 
 his natural strength abated." But if the 
 spirit of Christ be thine, if thou shalt merge 
 thyself in thy labour, if thou shalt lose thyself 
 in the glory of thy mission, thine is, indeed, a 
 vision undimmed. Thou shalt see of the 
 travail of thy soul and shalt be satisfied — 
 satisfied because others shall reap in joy what 
 thou hast sown in tears. Thy surest word of 
 prophecy shall be thy highest source of bless- 
 ino- ; " Whaisoever he doelh shall prosper." 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT 125 
 
 LIII. 
 
 SIN'S FIRST MANIFESTATION. 
 
 "And he sent than to Bethlehem, and said, Go and search 
 diligently for the young child ; and when ye have 
 fottnd Bini, bring vie word again, that I may come 
 and worship Him also." — Matt. ii. 6. 
 
 There it is. Sin never reveals itself at the 
 outset as sin ; if it did, we should at once be 
 repelled. If it came to the youth and said, 
 " I am evil ; follow me," is there any youth 
 in the nation who would obey it ? The spell 
 is broken when Satan declares himself to he 
 Satan, when he says in so many words, " Fall 
 down and worship me." But when the tempter 
 first comes to the soul he comes not in his 
 own dress ; he comes in the dress of virtue. 
 So far from appearing as the solicitor to evil, 
 he professes to be the ally of what is good 
 and true. He proclaims not himself as the 
 enemy of the Christ, but as one who would 
 support and further the cause of Christ. The 
 allurement of vice is its resemblance to virtue ; 
 
126 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 it adorns itself in borrowed robes. It assumes 
 the coiuiterfeit of that freedom which belono;s 
 only to the Spirit of the Master. It bids the 
 youth say, " I do not care," in counterfeit of 
 that divine carelessness which has cast its bur- 
 dens on the Lord. It offers him a prospect 
 of self-abandonment in counterfeit of the 
 Christian self-surrender. It tells him to break 
 the shackles of authority and come out into 
 the open plain, Mn counterfeit of that holier 
 consciousness, " I am dead to the law that I 
 might live unto God." 
 
 My soul, distrust the seeming resemblances 
 between the kingdom of Herod and the king- 
 dom of Christ. There is not, there never can 
 be, an alliance between them ; their likeness 
 lies on the surf\ice. License is not freedom ; 
 libertinism is not liberty ; recklessness is not 
 conquest of care ; self-will is not manliness. 
 Go and search diligently for the young child, 
 and when thou hast found Him, thou wilt 
 find that Herod could never have worshipped 
 Him. Their unlikeness ^ill grow the longer 
 they stand side by side. Herod asks from 
 thee at the beginning only a trifling tribute, 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 127 
 
 but he concludes by proving thee a shave ; 
 Christ at the outset demands thy heart, thy 
 strength, tliine all, but He ends by making 
 thee free. It is not Herod, but the star of 
 unselfish hope that cau lead thee to the place 
 where the young Child lies. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 HOW TO KNOW GOD'S LOVE. 
 
 " To knozv the love of Chris ', lohich passeth knowledge^ — 
 Eph. iii. 19. 
 
 Do not say within thyself, I will not be- 
 lieve what I do not understand. There is a 
 faculty in thee that passeth understandino-. 
 Thou hast a power which is higher than 
 reason, and which sees what reason cannot 
 see. Thy reason can only mount on the steps 
 of an argument, but there is somethino- iu 
 thee which flies to truth's conclusion as the 
 lark flies to the morning. Thou canst not 
 weigh it, thou canst not measure it, thou 
 
1 28 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 canst not with accuracy even name it, yet it 
 lifts tliee into ivo-ions beyond tliinc under- 
 standing, it carries thee into worlds which 
 transcend thy reason, it passeth the powers of 
 knowledge. 
 
 There are two things which pass thy know- 
 ledge in the sphere of faith, two things which 
 thou canst not know by the understanding — 
 the peace of Christ and the love of Christ. 
 All reason would say that their existence is 
 impossible. How can a man have peace when 
 the waters are swelling round him ? how can 
 a man be divinely loved ere he is yet divinely 
 lovely ? Yet the peace and the love alike 
 come through shut doors ; how they come we 
 cannot tell, yet we feel that they are here. 
 Thou knowest it is IIis peace by thy calm in 
 storm ; unrest could never have created rest. 
 Thou knowest it is His love by thy want in 
 affluence ; the earth and the fulness thereof 
 could never have made thy thirst for heaven. 
 It is by thy longing for Him thou knowest 
 that He longeth for thee. Thou couldst not 
 have panted for Him if He had not panted for 
 thee. Thv love for Him is to His love for 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 129 
 
 thee what the sunlight on the sea is to the 
 sunshine in the sky — a reflex, a mirror, a 
 diffusion ; thou art giving back the glory that 
 has been cast upon the waters. In the attrac- 
 tion of thy life to Him, in the cleaving of thy 
 heart to Him, in the soaring of thy spirit to 
 Him, thou art told that He is near thee. In 
 all that thou hast done and thought and 
 suffered for His sake, in all that thou hast pur- 
 posed and planned and achieved for His ser- 
 vice, in every movement wherewith thy spirit 
 has vibrated at the sound of His name, thou 
 hearest the beating of His pulse for thee, thou 
 know^est that He loves thee. 
 
 LV. 
 
 THE BOLDNESS OF CHRISTIAN HOPE. 
 
 " 77/a/ ye 7night be filled with all the fulness of God."^ 
 Eph, iii. 19. 
 
 What an aspiration for a band of fishermen, 
 peasants, slaves ! It was an aspiration after 
 
133 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 more than Eomau dominion, after more than 
 Judaic empire. The proudest dreams of Pan- 
 theism never dared to soar so high. The 
 Brahman had aspired to be lost in God, to 
 have the little spark of his individual being 
 absorbed in the mighty fire of the universe; 
 that was rather humility than pride. Here 
 was a company of men aspiring to reach God 
 yet not to be lost in God, aiming to touch the 
 brightness of the Infinite Glory without losing 
 the spark of their own individual being. Was 
 not this presumption, was not this impiety, 
 was not this fitted to destroy all the tender 
 graces of the Christian life ? — the poverty of 
 spirit which had been promised the kingdom, 
 the meekness of heart which was to inherit the 
 earth. '. 
 
 Nay, but who was this God with whose 
 fulness they desired to be filled ? His name 
 was Love. If His name had been aught else 
 than Love the desire of these men would have 
 been indeed presumption. But to be filled 
 with the fulness of love is not pride ; it is the 
 deepest, the most intense humility. He that 
 is filled with love is thereby made the servant 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 131 
 
 of all ; be repeats the life of the Diviuc M;ui, 
 and becomes heir to His burden. To him 
 belonjx sorrows not his own. He labours in 
 the labour of hinnauity, he suffers in the tears 
 of affliction, he is wounded in the battle of 
 the weak. His glory is bis pain. That which 
 fills him with God is that which fills him with 
 sadness, which bows him down with the sense 
 of nothingness ; the love that makes him great 
 is the power that makes him gentle. Love 
 that passest knowledge, come into my heart 
 with all Thy fulness, that my heart may be 
 made gentle with Thy gentleness. Without 
 Thee I have no humility, because I have no 
 burden ; I live for myself, because I have no 
 thought beyond self. But when Thou shalt 
 enter in I shall cense to be my own. I shall 
 become heir to the sins and sorrows of the vast 
 world, I shall take up the crosses of the labour- 
 ing and the heavy-laden. When I am filled 
 by Thee I shall be emptied of all pride ; when 
 I am conscious of Thee I shall be foro-etful of 
 myself. In Thy strength shall I find my 
 weakness, in Thy wealth shall I learn my 
 poverty, in Tby fulness shall I awake to the 
 
132 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 sense of my nothingness ; I shall become the 
 servant of humanity when Thou shalt fill my 
 souL 
 
 LVI. 
 
 SPIRITUAL WEANING. 
 
 " When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walkdh 
 through dry places^ seeking rest, and findcth none." — 
 Matt. xii. 43. 
 
 ThePvE is no moment of the spiritual life so 
 painful and so dangerous as its weaning ; the 
 old is past, and the new is not yet como. The 
 hardest time to bear is neither Egypt nor tlie 
 Promised Land, but the desert that lies be- 
 tween. Egypt has the pleasures of sin, the 
 Promised Land has the pleasures of holiness, 
 but the desert has no pleasures. It has given 
 up the joys of Pharaoh, and it has not yet 
 reached the delights of Canaan. It is only a 
 stage of prohibitions ; it forbids the pleasures 
 of the past, and it has as yet not even the 
 grapes of Eshcol to offer in their room. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 133 
 
 My soul, tbou caust not rest in the desert, 
 tliou canst not be satisfied with a law which 
 only says, " Thou slialt not." It is a hard 
 thing to have the old cup snatched from thy 
 lips ere any new cup is presented to thee. It 
 is a hard thing to have the old tenants ex- 
 pelled from thy dwelling ere any new guests 
 are admitted there. It is a hard thing to 
 have the house empty, swept, and garnished 
 ere ever thou hast learned that it is empty 
 for the reception of new visitors, garnished for 
 the coming of nobler guests. Thine old love 
 of sin cannot be replaced by law ; it can only 
 be replaced by a new love. Thine old joy in 
 Egypt cannot be supplanted by fear ; it can 
 only be supplanted by the joy of Canaan. It 
 is vain to tell thee to walk not in the counsel 
 of the ungodly, and stand not in the way of 
 sinners, until thy delight shall be in the law of 
 the Lord and thy meditation on it day and 
 night. Therefore thy prayer must be : 
 Love that art the recompense for every loss, 
 send into my heart the well-spring of Thy joy, 
 to gladden with its healing waters the places 
 that have been left dry. Fill up the solitudes 
 
134 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 of that s^piut which has been emptied of its 
 old treasures and swept of its past ideals. 
 Teach me that behind the reproach of the 
 desert there is to be found greater riches 
 than all the treasures of Egypt. Change the 
 struggle of my dawn into the spontaneity of a 
 second day. Let law become grace ; let duty 
 become privilege ; let service become freedom ; 
 let work become play ; let sacrifice become 
 joy. When I shall exchange the spirit of 
 heaviness for the garment of praise, the old 
 house shall be empty no more. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 THE UNIVERSAL HARMONY, 
 
 " And I looked, a7id, lo, a Lamb stood on the mount Ston, 
 and with Hifn an hundred forty atidfour thousand, 
 having His Father's name written in their foreheads. 
 . . . And I heard the voice of harpers harping with 
 their harps." — Rev. xiv. 1-2, 
 
 The summing up of the universe is the revela- 
 t'ou of harmony. It is not that the harmony 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 135 
 
 comes at the end, but that the harmony is re- 
 vealed at the end. The universe is all music, 
 but it is not all music to our ear. We only 
 hear a few chords, and they are minor chords. 
 The minor chords seem discords when they 
 stand alone ; they want the full symphony to 
 bring out their symmetry. Often art thou 
 crying out that thou art living in a world of 
 discords. Thou art living in a world of perfect 
 music, onl}^ thou hearest but a small portion 
 of the music. Often art thou saying that the 
 coming melody shall atone for the jarring 
 cliorJs. Nay ; say rather that the jarring 
 chords themselves shall be revealed as parts 
 of the completed harmony. The melody is 
 not to come, it has come already ; it has only 
 to be completed to be revealed, and then the 
 harpers shall stand upon the glassy sea. 
 
 My soul, bethink thee, what ivas that 
 which to the Seer of Patmos made the har- 
 mony complete ? It was the vision of a vast 
 multitude surrounding with their praises the 
 Lamb of sacrifice. There was a time when, to 
 that multitude, the spectacle of sacrifice would 
 have brought discord to the heart ; in the 
 
136 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 completed harmony it brings joy. The sweet- 
 est music to the heart of thy God is the ripe- 
 ness of thy soul for sacrifice, the moment when 
 thou art able to say, " I am now ready to be 
 ofiered." At such a moment all the sorrows of 
 life are justified, sanctified. The minor chords 
 get a meaning and receive a vindication when 
 the harpers stand around Mount Zion in praise 
 of the sacrificial Lamb. Knowest thou not 
 that this was from the outset the goal of thy 
 being — to be made perfect through sufieriug ? 
 It was for this that thy first innocence was 
 clouded. It was for this that thy first joy 
 was dimmed. It was for this that thy first 
 hope was shaken — that thou mightest reach 
 Olivet by the steps of Calvary. The wilder- 
 ness of the Son of Man is better than the 
 garden of Adam. The morning stars sang 
 together over thine untried nature ; but there 
 awaits thee a yet grander music — when the 
 harps of God shall proclaim that thou hast 
 conquered through the Cross. 
 
MOMENTS ON niE MOUNT. 137 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 CHRISTIANITY NOT ASCETICISM. 
 
 " ^u^ if we -icaik in the light, as He is iji the light, we have 
 fellowship one with another^ — i John i. 7. 
 
 " If we walk in the light we have fellowship." 
 What a difference between the Divine and the 
 human view of religion ! Most of us are 
 saying within our hearts, '* If we walk in the 
 light, we ought to have no fellowship." I once 
 thoufyht that relio;ion meant withdrawal from 
 the haunts of men. I thouo-ht that it sionified 
 separation, isolation, asceticism, penance, joy- 
 lessness; I thought that the light manifested 
 itself by darkness. God says, on the contrary, 
 that life never becomes social until His lioht 
 has come. It is the want of His lio^ht that 
 prevents me from having fellowship, that 
 debars me from enjoying companionship. As 
 long as my heart is dark I will not reveal it 
 to my brother-man ; as long as his heart is 
 dark he will not reveal it to me. And so 
 we are both alone. Our solitude is the fruit 
 
138 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 of uur darkness ; if the light would come we 
 would have fellowship. All light paiit-^ to 
 reveal itself. Who ever sought fellowship 
 like Him — the light and life of men ? To 
 whom did He not outpour Himself? to whom 
 did He not reveal Himself? What sphere of 
 human history did He not strive to make His 
 own ? Pharisee and publican, Jew and Gentile, 
 rich and destitute, learned and ignorant — He 
 met them all. He touched those spheres of 
 worldliness which the world itself could not 
 touch without increased defilement. He was 
 the light, and therefore He could touch the 
 darkness. light that lightest every man, 
 come into this heart of mine that in Thy 
 radiance I may have Thy power of fellowship. 
 I am weary of my own narrowness, I am tired 
 of my own isolation ; I long to be able like 
 Thee to break through the limits that debar 
 me from the life of my brother. I long to be 
 able like Thee to touch impurity without stain, 
 to shine in darkness '-A.ithout receiving its 
 shadow. I long like Thee to sympathise with 
 that which is beneath me, to love that which 
 is unlike me, to commune with that which has 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 139 
 
 no voice for me. Ouly in Thee shall that 
 power be mine, therefore I wait for Thy 
 commg. When Thou shalt touch me with 
 Thy presence, I too shall touch all things. I 
 shall pass uncorrupted into the scenes of this 
 great world. I shall mingle in its pursuits 
 and they shall not hurt me, I shall join in 
 its pleasures and they will not harm me, I 
 shall study its aims and they will not lower 
 my heavenly aspiration, I shall meet with its 
 prodigal children and my garments shall be 
 undefiled ; all fellowship shall be mine when I 
 w^alk in Thy light. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 
 
 " Add to brotherly kindness charily. ^^ — 2 Pet. i. 7- 
 
 Christianity here reveals itself as the relisjion 
 of universal love. It tells men that it is not 
 enouo^h for them to be kind to those who are 
 their brethren; they must be kind to those 
 who are not their brethren. It is not enough 
 for them to love those that are at one with 
 
140 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 them ; they must love those that are not at 
 one with them. Christ's love is like no other 
 love ; it goes down to those that are outside 
 the pale of loveliness. Human love can only 
 seek her own, can only love that which is like 
 herself. Man seeks fellowship with him that 
 has a kindred soul. He goes out to meet the 
 heart that is already in sympathy with his 
 heart, he gives back to his brother what his 
 brother has given to him. But Divine love 
 transcends the limits of its own sympathies. 
 It seeks those that are not yet brethren ; it 
 goes forth to make brotherhood. It kee[)S 
 not on the plain of its own being ; it descends 
 into the valleys to seek and to save that 
 which is lost. It travels down into the 
 depths to bring up that which as yet has no 
 affinity to itself. It follow^s the prodigals afar 
 off, it searches out the lepers amid the tombs, 
 it gathers in the outcasts from the highways 
 and the hedges; it seeks those who are not 
 beautiful, that it may endow them with its 
 beauty. 
 
 Thou Divine Love, that hast revealed to 
 me the infinite possibilities of loving, make 
 
MOMENTS OS THE MOUNT. 141 
 
 me a sharer in Thy life. Much of what I call 
 my love is but disguised selfishness. I seek 
 others because I find myself in them. My 
 heart o;oes out to the hearts that 2^0 out to me, 
 my sym23athy expands to the sympathies that 
 agree with me, my kindness is but brotherly 
 kindness. I want more than that. I want 
 kindness for the unbrotherly, sympathy for the 
 erring, tenderness for the fallen, love for the 
 lost. In Thee, in Thee alone shall I find 
 them. Breathe into my heart the breath of 
 Thine own life, that my life may no longer be 
 my own. Inspire me with the glory of Thy 
 Cross — the joy of bearing the burdens of the 
 world's weak ones. Lay upon me that yoke 
 of Thine which is easy because it kills all selfish 
 care — the yoke of humanity, the care for other 
 souls. Then shall my heart be enlarged to 
 meet the life of man. Then in the depth of 
 Thy love shall I go down into the depths of 
 humanity, and shall claim my brotherhood 
 with every human sonl. When I have reached 
 the power of universal charity I shall be made 
 divine in Thee. 
 
142 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 LX. 
 
 CHRIST'S SENSE OF MYSTERY. 
 '■'■He marvelled because of theh' uv belief." — Mark vi. 6. 
 
 The acts of the Son of Man are to us miracu- 
 lous ; we marvel at His deeds. But have we 
 ever thought that our acts were to Him 
 miraculous ? He marvelled at us as much 
 as we marvelled at Him. True, the cause of 
 the wonder was in each case different. We 
 wondered at His greatness ; He wondered at 
 our littleness. Everything is a miracle when 
 it transcends the law of our nature. Our 
 littleness transcended the law of His nature. 
 He could not understand our meanness of 
 heart, our selfishness of aim, our coldness of 
 affection, our absence of enthusiasm, our dim- 
 ness of faith ; He marvelled at it. It was all 
 so unlike Him, that to Him it was a miracle. 
 He saw in it a violation of the law of Divine 
 nature, a suspension of the powers resident in 
 the heaven-born soul. He beheld in it a 
 
MOME.\TS ON THE MOUNT. 143 
 
 greater transformation than we beheld in the 
 turning of water into wine ; that was but the 
 transforming of matter into matter, tliis was the 
 turning^ of life into death. It was the earthli- 
 ness of that which should be lieavcnly, the 
 meanness of that which should be majestic, 
 the poverty of that which should be precious, 
 the deadness of that which should be alive for 
 evermore : it contradicted the whole rano-e of 
 His Divine experience, and He marvelled with 
 an exceeding great surprise. 
 
 My soiil, be not thou a miracle to thy Lord. 
 Be not thou a thiug at which He that fashioned 
 thee shall wonder. Be not thou so unlike 
 His nature as to seem to Him a prodigy, an 
 object at which to gaze and marvel. Rather 
 be it thine to enter into union with His 
 infinite order, to be harmonious with His 
 eternal law. Be it thine to catch so much of 
 His likeness that He shall recognise Himself 
 in thee, shall behold as in a glass His own 
 glory, shall rejoice at the sight of that which 
 is familiar to Him. Then shall He wonder at 
 thee no more, for He shall find in thee a 
 kindred life. He shall see in thee the reflex 
 
144 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 of His own liglit, tlie shadow of His own 
 form, the travail of His own souL He shall 
 behold in thee what the Father has beheld in 
 Him — the brightness of His glory and the 
 express image of His person. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 THE KNOCKING OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 "Be/iolif, I stand at the door and knock!'' — Rev. iii. 20. 
 
 Why does He not come in ? Is not this 
 Divine Spirit omnipotent ? Has He not 
 power to enter where He will, to breatlie 
 where He chooses, to blow where He listeth ? 
 "Why, then, does He stand without, knocking 
 at the door of a frail human heart ? Could 
 He not l)reak down that door in a moment, in 
 the twinkling of an eye, and annihilate that 
 opposing barrier which disputes His claim to 
 universal empire ? Yes, but in so doing He 
 would annihilate also the man. What makes 
 me a man is just my power to open the door. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 145 
 
 If I had no power to open or to forbear open- 
 ing I would not be responsible. The Divine 
 Spirit might then, indeed, do witli me what 
 He will, but I would not be worth His pos- 
 session. I would be simply as the uncon- 
 scious stars W'hich He fills with licfht, as the 
 blind winds which He directs on their way. 
 But if the stars and the winds had been 
 enough He would never have said, " Let us 
 make man." He made me because He meant 
 me to be more than a star, more than a breath 
 of heaven. He meant me to respond to Him- 
 self, to open on His knocking at the door. 
 He could have no joy in breaking down the 
 door, in taking the kingdom of my heart l)y 
 violence ; there would be no response in that, 
 no answer of a heart to His heart, no accept- 
 ance of a will by His will. Therefore, He 
 prefers to stand w^ithout till I open, to knock 
 tiil I hear, to speak till I respond. He would 
 not have my being to be lost in His, for His 
 being is love, and love demands love. 
 
 Thou Divine Spirit, that in all events of 
 life art knocking at the door of my heart, help 
 me to respond to Thee. I would not be 
 
146 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 driven blindly as the stars over their courses. 
 I would, not be made to work out Thy will 
 unwillingly, to fulfil Thy law unintelligeutly, 
 to obey Thy mandates unsympathetically. 
 Where Thou goest I would go, where Thou 
 dwellest I would dwell. I would take the 
 events of my life as good and perfect gifts 
 from Thee ; I would receive even the sorrows 
 of life as disguised gifts from Thee. I would 
 have my heart open at all times to receive 
 Thee — atmorniug, noon, and night; in spring, 
 and summer, and winter. Whether Thou 
 comest to me in sunshine or in rain, I would 
 take Thee into my heart joyfully. Thou art 
 Thyself more than the sunshine. Thou art 
 Thyself compensation for the rain ; it is Thee 
 and not Thy gifts I crave ; knock and I shall 
 open unto Thee. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 147 
 
 LXII. 
 
 MOMENTS OF ANTICIPATION. 
 
 " And Jesus saiih unto /li/n, I will come a?id heal him." — 
 Matt. viii. 7. 
 
 There are some prayers wliicli are answered 
 only by the promise of an answer. The cen- 
 turion prays for his servant that he may be 
 healed instantaneously ; the immediate res- 
 ponse is, I will come. Have you and I never 
 experienced this ? We have asked something 
 which has not at once been granted, and yet 
 we have been made to feel that there was 
 something more than silence. We have felt 
 in our hearts what seemed the prophecy of 
 an answer, a nameless, unspeakable strength 
 which told us it would one day all be well. 
 The summer did not come immediately, but the 
 swallows came into our spring, and the interpre- 
 tation of their song was this, "It will come." 
 
 My soul, do not despise thy moments of 
 anticipation. They have no present gifts to 
 bring, but they bring the promise of great gifts 
 
148 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 to come ; they have no immediate answer to 
 thy prayer, but tliey tell thee of a time when 
 thy prayer ivill be answered. Thinkest thou 
 it is a b'obt thing; to have such moments ? 
 Great men have lived on them and died on 
 them. Did not Abraham leave his country 
 and his father's house with no other food in 
 his heart than the strength of a promise? 
 Was it not that promise that helped him to 
 climb the Mount Moriahs of life, and to meet 
 on their summits the great sacrifices to which 
 life is heir ; he was made strong by the power 
 of aspiration, by the voice which each morn- 
 ing said to him, " I will come." So sbalt thou 
 too be stroijg, my soul. If thou shalt set 
 out on thy journey with the prophecy of an 
 answered prayer, thou too shalt climb Mount 
 Moriah with unfaltering feet, thou too with 
 unblanched cheek shalt meet the sacrifice on 
 its summit. The glory of to-morrow shall 
 prefigure itself through the tears of to-day, 
 and the song of the approaching swallows shall 
 be heard amid the snow ; all shadows vanish 
 from that heart to which God has said, "I 
 will come." 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 149 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 WAYSIDE SEEDS. 
 '■^ Some seeds fell by the wayside''' — Matt. xiii. 4. 
 
 There are some men who have no experience, 
 only experiences. They never gain any lesson 
 from life itself, only from what they call the 
 startling events of life. They are stirred into 
 emotion by what seem to them the accidents 
 of the world. When death comes suddenly 
 and unexpectedly they are impressed with 
 solemnity, they are religious for an hour ; but 
 the seed has fallen only by the wayside. My 
 soul, is it so with thee ? Art thou living 
 simply by the ivayside of life ? Art thou 
 waking up at stray moments to the con- 
 viction that there are solemnities in this life 
 of thine ? Art thou livino; in indifference 
 between the falling of each new seed ? Art 
 thou only awakened by what thou callest the 
 catastroplies of life — by death, by war, by 
 commercial panic ? Then thou art only catch- 
 ing seeds by the wayside. Yet the way is 
 
I50. MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 more solemn than the wayside. No event of 
 thy life is half so startling, half so awful, half 
 so mysterious as thy life itself. Nothing that 
 happens to thee is so worthy of meditation as 
 thine own being. The seeds that fall by the 
 wayside are less important than the interven- 
 ing space that lies between. The quiet time 
 when there is nothino; startlinsj is the most 
 eventful time of all, for it is then that thou 
 thyself art growing — growing by the nourish- 
 ment of the past seed, and ripening for nourish- 
 ment by the seed which is to come. 
 
 How shall I reach this sense of solemnity, 
 of solemnity everywhere and always ? Lord, 
 I can only reach it in Thee. If I felt, like the 
 Psalmist, that Thou wert continually with 
 me, I would feel continually solemn. It is be- 
 cause I feel Thee to be with me only at start- 
 linsf moments that I lose the sense of life's 
 universal solemnity. Therefore, Thou all- 
 pervading Divine Spirit, do Thou impress 
 me with Thine all-pervadingness. Teach me 
 that Thou art not in one place more than 
 another. Teach me that I cannot flee from 
 Thy presence, that Thou art with me not only 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 151 
 
 in the Betliaiiies and the Calvaries, but in the 
 common toil of Nazareth, and in the silent 
 solitudes of the wilderness. So, in the sense 
 of Thy continual presence, shall my way be 
 uniformly great, and the events of the wayside 
 shall be startlino- no more. All life shall be 
 alike solemn when I have learned that I am 
 ever with Thee. I shall cease to live by the 
 impressions of the hour when every breath 
 of my being- comes to me as a gift Divine. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 HUMAN UNREST. 
 
 "As the hart panteth after the water broola, so pajttetk 
 my soul after Thee, O God." — Ps. xlii. i. 
 
 All things live in their own element — the 
 cattle on the plain, the hsh in the sea, the 
 bird in the air. Thy element is God. Thuu 
 art the only creature in this universe that 
 art not now in thine element ; thou art an 
 anomaly in the order of creation. The spar- 
 
152 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 row hath an house and the swallow a nest for 
 herself, but thou longest, faintest ; thou hast 
 not found a resting-place in all the tabernacles 
 of time. Thou art the least happy of all 
 creatures. The bird carols in the air all the 
 day, but thou hast not a day quite undiramed 
 by tears. Why is it thus with thee ? Where- 
 fore art thou less happy than the beast of the 
 field ? Is it because thou hast fewer resources ? 
 Nay, it is because thy resources are greater, 
 because they are too great for the world that 
 environs thee. It is because thou art not 
 living in thine element, and the element in 
 which thou livest is not adequate to thy 
 powers. Thou hast capacities for boundless 
 flight, and thou art chained within a limited 
 area ; thou art made for God, and thou art 
 narrowed to the dust. No wonder thou art 
 not happy ; it is thy greatness makes thee 
 unhappy. If thou hadst been a bird of the 
 air thou wouldst have carolled like him, but 
 because thou art more thou hast no unclouded 
 song. And yet thou wert made for song. 
 Thou wert not only made for song in a future 
 vorld, thou wert designed for it here. Thou 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 153 
 
 art promising thyself joy iti regions beyond 
 the grave, but the only element that can give 
 thee joy is on both sides of the grave. Thy 
 joy is God, and God is here as well as there. 
 The atmosphere of the Divine surrounds thee 
 now. Thou needst not wait for death to reach 
 it ; thou canst soar into it at any moment. 
 Say not that others have their portion here, 
 but that thou hast thy portion hereafter ; is 
 not thy portion eternity, and is not eternity 
 now as well as then 1 Thy portion is here, 
 my soul, — on the threshold of thy life, at the 
 door of thy being ; it is in the earth, though 
 it is not of the earth. Why shouldst thou 
 pant any more ? The river that makes glad 
 the city of God can make glad the cities of 
 men. Thou canst find thine element as easily 
 as the hart findeth the water brooks. " Ho, 
 every one that thirsteth, come ye to the 
 waters." 
 
154 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 THE FIGHT OF FAITH. 
 
 '^ By little and little I will drive thetn out from before 
 thee." — P2xoD. xxiii. 30. 
 
 Is my life, then, to be a perpetual warfare % 
 Is it only by little and little that I am to con- 
 quer my spiritual foes ? I thought that in 
 cominor to Christ I was comins^ to the end of 
 struggle ; did He not say, " Come unto me all 
 ye that labour, and I will give you rest " ? Yet 
 here it would seem as if the coming to Him 
 were the promise of war. Yes, but the two 
 promises do not contradict each other. The 
 rest which He offers thee is a rest not from 
 struo-sle but in struo^ojle. He has a higher 
 gift for thee than the mere cessation from life's 
 battle : His gift to thee is the power to fight. 
 Knowest thou not that the first fruit of 
 the Divine life within thee is the sense of 
 struggle and the power of struggle. There 
 is no warfare in spiritual death any more than 
 in natural death ; it is the calm of the scpul- 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 155 
 
 chre. But the rest of God comes to break tlie 
 calm of the sepulchre. The rest of God is love, 
 and love is labour. Perfect love is perfect 
 power of labouring ; comp)leted love is com- 
 plete strength for ladenness. Thy struggle is 
 itself thy victory. Hast thou pondered the 
 meanino^ of these words of Paul, " In all these 
 thing we are more than conquerors " ? What 
 things is he speaking of ? " Tribulation, dis- 
 tress, persecution, famine, nakedness, peril, 
 sword." Should we not have expected him to 
 have said, " Over all these things we are more 
 than conquerors " ? Yes, had he meant to say 
 so : but that was not the thou2jht in his mind. 
 Paul was not thinkinsf of how we should get 
 rid of tribulation and persecution, but of how 
 tribulation and persecution would make us 
 strong. It was not the freedom from tlie 
 struofo-le, but the moral exercise of the struo-o-le 
 that caused his heart to triumph ; therefore he 
 was not afraid to say, " I')i all these things we 
 are conquerors." *' Blessed are they that are 
 persecuted," says a greater than Paul. Why 
 does He close the beatitudes with such a 
 blessing as this ? Just because it is the fit tin cr 
 
iS6 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 crown of all. It is much to be poor in spirit, 
 to be meek, to be merciful, to be peaceable, 
 to be pure in heart — but to be all these things 
 throuofh struo-Q^le, this is holiness indeed. There- 
 fore hi/ little and little God will drive out thy 
 foes. He will not rob thee of the moral health 
 of struggle by granting thee a sudden triumph. 
 Day by day He shall renew the exercise of 
 thy patience, the trial of thy faith, the proof 
 of thy love, the test of thy temper, the train- 
 ing of thy will. Day by day He shall grant 
 thee a fresh field to conquer, a new victory 
 to win, till ill the calm of conscious strength 
 thou shalt be able to say, " Thou preparest 
 a table before me in the presence of mine 
 enemies." 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 157 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 THE RECOGNITION OF CHRIST. 
 
 ** He 7i'as hiow7i of thaji tfi breaking of breads 
 — Luke xxiv. 35. 
 
 Men have often asked whether the departed 
 will be recoijnised. The risen Son of Man is 
 recognised by that in Him which was most 
 humble and most Imman. We should have 
 thouo-ht that the token of recoQ^nition would 
 have been selected from the least human parts 
 of His life. We should have thought that 
 He would have been recognised by the glory 
 of the transfiguration mount, or by the old 
 splendours of the miraculous power. But it 
 is not so ; that which connects His life in 
 heaven with His life on earth is just the 
 lowliest path that on earth He ever trod — the 
 path of sacrifice, the hour of humiliation : 
 " He w\as known of them in breakinor of 
 bread." 
 
 Wouldst thou meet and recognise thy risen 
 Lord ? then must thou follow the disciples' 
 
158 MOMEXTS ON THE MOLWT. 
 
 w;iy. Thou caust not, any more than they, 
 meet Him by a flight of ecstasy, tliou canst 
 not, any more than they, find Him by a recoil 
 from tlie human. It is only in the sacrifice 
 for man that thou shalt discover the Sou of 
 Man ; it is only in the breaking of the bread 
 that Christ shall be made known to thee. 
 Did not He tell His disciples that when He 
 was risen from the dead. He would go before 
 them into Galilee and invite them to meet 
 Him there ? And why into Galilee ? Be- 
 cause Galilee was the re2:ion of the sliadow of 
 death, the place for the breaking of bread. 
 Thee, too, He asks to meet Him in Galilee. 
 Wouldst thou have a vision of the risen Lord ? 
 then thou must go down into the valley of 
 His humiliation. Wouldst thou see Him as 
 He is ? then thou must be like Him in sacri- 
 ficial spirit. That side of His being which 
 heaven has not changed is just the side that 
 is most human ; He keeps the mark of the 
 nails, He remains a high priest for ever. If 
 thou wouldst know Him, it must be through 
 that priesthood ; if thou wouldst recognise 
 Him, it must be through the mark of the nails 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 159 
 
 borne in tliiiie own body. If thou slialt break 
 the bread to the hungry, if thou shalt help 
 the fatherless and the orphan, if thou shalt 
 lift the erring and the fallen, if thou shalt 
 give beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for 
 mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit 
 of heaviness, then thou art bearing about in 
 thy body the dying of the Lord Jesus. Thy 
 spirit is His spirit, thy life is His life, thy 
 love is His love, and by the power of a kin- 
 dred sympathy thou knowest His love to thee ; 
 thou shalt recognise Him by that net whereby 
 He recognises thee — the breaking of bread. 
 
i6o MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 LXVIT. 
 
 THE STAGES OF SPIRITUAL REST. 
 
 " Jnd Noah removed the covering of the ark, and looked^ 
 and behold, the face of the ground was dry. And in 
 the second month, on the sa'cn and twentieth day of 
 the mo7ith, was the earth di-ied. And God spake unto 
 Noah, saying. Go forth of the ark, thou and thy laife, 
 and thy sons, and thy sons' waives wi.'h thee." — Gen. 
 viii. 13-16. 
 
 There are Llnec kinds of spiritual rest in this 
 world — the rest of outlook, the rest of ex- 
 perience, and the rest of action. They are 
 progressive in their order. First of all there 
 comes to me a time when the covering of 
 my ark is removed, and I am permitted to 
 look out upon the waters. The flood has not 
 ceased, but the face of the ground is dry. It is 
 as yet only a rest of outlook, a prophetic rest, 
 a promise of rest to come, yet even as such it 
 is beautiful. Faith sees in advance of experi- 
 ence, and tells that Ararat is at hand. Then 
 there conits to me a second rest — the rest of 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. i6i 
 
 experieuce itself; the earth itself is dried, and 
 my ark reposes in the very midst of the world. 
 It is a wondrous advance on the rest of out- 
 look ; I was then tossing even amid the vision 
 of hope, I am now calm in experience oF dry 
 land. Yet one stage is wanted to make me 
 perfect ; I am still within my ark, and there- 
 fore still separate from the world, I must be 
 able to rest outside of my ark, I must be able 
 to be calm in the midst of that very world 
 which once constituted my flood ; my triumph 
 is complete when God says to my soul, " Go 
 forth of tlie ark." 
 
 Thou who art the true Ararat, the true 
 rest of my- spirit, perfect Thy rest in me. 
 Give me the outlook of faith whereby I 
 shall anticipate the coming glory, and see the 
 dayspring ere yet it is dawn. Give me the 
 calm of experience whereby I shall repose 
 within my ark, even though the voices of the 
 world are around me, the power to keep amid 
 change Thy peace that passeth understandino-. 
 Give me yet one more boon, and that the 
 highest of all — the power to go forth from the 
 ark itself and to rest in the very wurk of the 
 
1 62 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 world. My rest is not complete until it is 
 rest in action, my peace is not perfect until 
 it is Thy peace — the peace that could endure 
 under the shadow of a cross. Give me Tliy 
 Divine power to sleep amid the storm, to be 
 calm amid the turmoil, to be restful where 
 the world finds unrest. Then shall I be able 
 to dispense with my ark of seclusion. I shall 
 go out to meet the flood, and its waters shall 
 not overwhelm me. I shall have liberty to 
 mingle in the scenes that once would have 
 been my destruction. I shall have streugth 
 to meet the pleasures that once would have 
 drowned my soul. My life of faith shall be 
 my life of perfect freedom in that hour when 
 Thou shalt say to my spirit, " Go forth of the 
 ark." 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 163 
 
 LXVIIT. 
 
 THE ROAD TO GREATNESS. 
 
 " So 7uhen they had dined, Jesus saith to Simon Peter, 
 Simon, son 0/ Jonas, loves t thou me more than these! 
 He saith unto Him, Yea, Lo7-d ; Thou knoivest that I 
 love Thee. He saith unto him, Feed my la??ibs." — 
 John xxi. 15. 
 
 "LovEST thou me more than these love me?" 
 It is ail appeal to the oklest instinct of Peter's 
 nature — his desire to be first. The root of 
 his whole bein^: had been ambition. Even in 
 his approach to his Lord there had been a 
 consciousness of self, a thirst for superiority, a 
 desire that his coming should be singled out 
 from the approaches of all other men. " Bid 
 me that I come to Thee on the waters " — tbat 
 had been the motto of his life. What was he 
 that he should be bidden more than John 
 or James or Nathaniel ? But the instinct for 
 superiority was in the man, and he could not 
 help it. And now it is to this instinct that 
 our Lord appeals, " Lovest thou me more 
 than these love me ? ' is there the old wish to 
 
164' MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 be first. But observe the new revelation 
 which the Lord makes to the old instinct, 
 " Feed my lambs." It is as if he said : Peter, 
 thou hast been pursuing a wrong road to great- 
 ness ; he that is least shall be greatest of all. 
 Wouldst thou be spiritually the most con- 
 spicuous of the band 1 Then must thou be 
 the least proud, the most self-forgetting. 
 Thou must come down to feed the very lambs 
 of the flock. Thou must descend into the 
 lowliest valleys of the w^orld. Thou must lose 
 through the very power of thy love all sense 
 of thine own power. Thou must forget thine 
 interest in the interest of the lives beneath 
 thee, thou must be oblivious of thy wants in 
 feeling; the huns^er and the thirst of other 
 souls, thou must take no thought for thyself 
 through the pressure of the one great thought 
 — the burden of humanity, the bearing of my 
 cross. 
 
 Thou that hast emptied Thyself of Thy 
 glory, and by Thy humiliation hast conquered 
 the world, help me to be great like Thee tn 
 Thee. Give me Thine own spirit of self- 
 forgetfulness, that I may be inspired with the 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 165 
 
 power of love. Teach me to lose self-will, tliat 
 I may be strengthened by a higher will. Let 
 my life be buried in the love of Thee, hid in 
 the sense of Thy presence, absorbed and lost 
 and overshadowed in Thine all-excelling glory. 
 Then in Thy cross shall I reach Thy crown, 
 and Calvary shall become my Olivet. My 
 enthusiasm of self-forgetfulness shall be the 
 greatness of my power, my loss shall be my 
 gain, my death shall be the strength of my 
 life. When I feel that I have nothinof I shall 
 indeed possess all things ; when I am least 
 conscious of myself I shall be strongest of all. 
 Teach me to feed Thy lambs. 
 
 LXTX. 
 
 THE DARK THINGS OF LIFE. 
 
 " Jle discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth 
 out to light the shadoiv of death" — Job xii. 22. 
 
 The things which give us most evidence of 
 God are just the dark things of life; this was 
 
i66 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 the ex[)erieiice of the man wlio, of all others, 
 knew most of life's dark tliino-s. And what 
 Job learned by his sorrow we are all learning 
 — that the cross is our crown, that the rejected 
 stone is the head of the corner. Thou art 
 seeking light on the life beyond the grave — 
 light that shall dispel the gloom of death and 
 turn back its shadow. But it does not occur 
 to thee that the shadow of death is itself to 
 be the lioht that thou seekest. " He briuo-eth 
 out to light the shadow of death," says Job, 
 — causes illumination to come from the very 
 source which threatened to shut it out for 
 ever. It is from thy vision of death that 
 there comes to thee the clearest sio-ht thou 
 hast of immortality. Hast thou not seen how 
 often at the eveninor time there has been lio^ht? 
 Hast thou not marked how, when the outer 
 man was perishing, the inner was renewing 
 day by day ? Hast thou not beheld how, 
 when flesh and heart fainted and failed, when 
 the silver cord was being loosed and the 
 golden bowl was nearly broken, the eye of 
 faith grew preternaturally bright, and the 
 heart of love preternaturally strong ? And 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 167 
 
 in that preternatural brightness thou didst 
 learn that earth was not all, that there was 
 something which could still live, yea, which 
 could vividly live even when the old nature 
 had been overshadowed. It was out of the 
 shadow that thy hope came, it was death that 
 revealed the power of a higher life. 
 
 My soul, do not despise the shadows of life. 
 Do not say that they are exceptions to the 
 proof of Divine Intelligence ; do not exclaim 
 wlien they are passing over thee that thy way 
 is bid from the Lord. These shadows are sent 
 to thee, not as hidings, but as revelations of 
 the face of God ; they come to thee as mes- 
 sengers of light. They tell thee what thou 
 couldst not know without them — that there is 
 a life strono^er than the natural life. How 
 couldst thou learn that, if the natural life 
 never failed thee ? How could faith begin 
 if sight were perfect ? How could trust exist 
 if there were no darkness? It is the darkness 
 that lijxhts thee, it is from the shadows that 
 thy spiritual nature is illuminated. From the 
 sense of human emptiness thou reachest that 
 prophetic hunger which is certain to be filled; 
 
l68 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 thy life rises, phoenix-like, from the ashes of 
 thy dying, and out of thy deepest darkness 
 God says, " Let there be light." 
 
 LXX. 
 
 THE ARM OF THE LORD. 
 
 " JV/io hath Ih lieved our 7-eport 1 and to whom is the arm of 
 the Lord revealed ? For He shall groiu up before Him 
 as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground." 
 — IsA. liii. I, 2. 
 
 The prophet believed himself to be speaking a 
 paradox, a thing which no man would natu- 
 rally credit. And so he was. Who, indeed, 
 would naturally believe that the arm or power 
 of the Lord could be revealed in tliat which all 
 men, in all times, have associated with power- 
 lessness ? We seek for the revelations of 
 God's power in the strong things of life — in 
 battle, lightning, and tempest, in thunder, 
 earthquake, and fire. But we do not seek for 
 them in the endurance of life's privations — in 
 the struggling growth of the tender plant, or 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 169 
 
 in the root that springs from a dry ground. 
 These are to us the synibols of powerlessuess ; 
 we say, the arm of the Lord is not there. 
 Yet, to the eye of the prophet, it is just in 
 these tilings that God shows His arm ; the 
 hio-hest revelation of His might is in the aentle- 
 ness of Him who grew up as a tender plant. 
 Is it not so to us too ? What is to thee the 
 mifrhtiest sisfn of God in this world ? is it 
 not the life of Him who had jDow^er to lay 
 doivii His life. What is to thee the strono-est 
 manifestation of will in this world ? is it not 
 the strength of Him who said, " Not as I 
 will, but as Thou wilt." What is to thee the 
 greatest exhibition of unweariedness in this 
 world ? is it not the exhaustlessness of that 
 love which cried, " Come unto me all ye that 
 labour and are heavy laden, and I will give 
 you rest." 
 
 Thou Divine power which men called 
 weakness, reveal Thine arm to me. Reveal to 
 me the omnipotent strength that was uncon- 
 sciously eulogised in the words, *' He saved 
 others ; Himself He cannot save." The world 
 thought it was a sign of impotence, but it 
 
I70 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 was strength unspeakable, such strength as 
 belonged only to Thee. That inability of 
 Thine was the greatest force in this universe — 
 the power of love. It was the power of Thy 
 love that made Thee powerless to save Thyself, 
 that would not let Thee turn aside from the 
 narrow road and the dolorous way, that im- 
 pelled Thee to tread the garden and to climb 
 the cross. strong Son of God, whose 
 strength was to say, " I cannot save myself," 
 be that strens^th also mine ; reveal Thine arm 
 in me, as well as to me. Make me strong to 
 bear the cross, to despise the shame, to endure 
 contradiction against myself, to prefer the 
 narrow path of duty to the kingdoms of the 
 world and their glory. Make me strong to 
 trample self under my feet, to surrender my 
 will to Thy will, to yield up my spirit to the 
 crucifying hand of love ; then shall I know 
 what that saying meaneth, " The power of 
 God unto salvation." 
 
MOMEXrS ON THE MOUNT. 171 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 SPIRIT UA L A DM IRA TION. 
 
 " When 7c>e shall see Him, there is no beauty that 7C'e 
 should desire I Jim.'''' — Isa. liii. 2, 
 
 The boundary between spiritual death and 
 spiritual life is admiration. Between seeing 
 the beauty without desiring it and seeing the 
 beauty ivitli desire there seems but a thin line, 
 but it is the line of infinitude ; it is the difi'er- 
 ence between the almost and the altosfether. 
 Admiration of Christ's beauty is the lowest 
 step of the ladder, but it is a step. It may 
 exist where the deeds of life are not yet in 
 harmony with its ideal, but it is the prophecy 
 of the future perfection, the pledge of good 
 things to come. My soul, bethink thee, that 
 which thou admirest must be allied to thyself. 
 Thou couldst not possibly admire if it had 
 nothing in common with thee. Like can only 
 be known by like ; love cannot be recognised 
 by selfishness, nor can the face of purity be 
 beheld by moral dcba.^ement. Therefore it is 
 
172 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 tliat the words are written, " Without holi- 
 licss ijo man shall see the Lord." It is not 
 a threat ; it is the statement of a divine law 
 which is also a human law. Thou canst not 
 see anything which is not already in thee. 
 Thou canst not see beauty if thou hast not the 
 sense of beauty, thou canst not hear music if 
 thou hast not the thrill of harmony, thou canst 
 not love virtue if thou hast not the germ of 
 goodness. If, when Jesus of Nazareth passeth 
 by, thou hast felt a glow of admiration, a 
 longing to be like Him and a thirsting to 
 be near Him — by that admiring glow thou 
 knowest that already He has been with thee. 
 Thou couldst not kindle at His presence if 
 His presence were alien to thine, thou couldst 
 not imitate His likeness if conformity to His 
 imafje had not even now beojun. All imitation 
 is the fruit of some likeness ; it does not 
 precede but follow the conformity of nature. 
 That to which thou aspirest is the shadow of 
 something already hidden in thy heart, and it 
 is this that makes thine aspiration precious. 
 In the longing of thy heart for Him the Son 
 of Man beholds Himself in thee ; in the 
 
MOMESTS ON THE MOUNT. 173 
 
 approach of thy spirit to Him He learns thai 
 His Spirit has drawn near to thee. The 
 beauty by which thou seest Him is His own 
 beauty, the love with which thou longest for 
 Him is His own love, the light by which 
 thou seekest Him is His own light. Thy 
 longing is the measure of thee, tliy conscious 
 want is the test of thy possibilities, thine 
 aspiration is the prophecy of thy stature ; the 
 beauty of the Lord is in thee when thou hast 
 seen and desired His beauty. 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 THE PROVIDENCE OF SORROW. 
 
 " He knoweth thy walkijig t/iroiegh this great wilder?iess." 
 — Deut. ii. 7. 
 
 Is there, then, a Providence so individual as 
 that ? Is there a Divine knowledfre extendino- 
 even to the greatness of my solitude, to the 
 uttermost loneliness of tliat walk throuofh 
 which I seemed to travel in the valley of 
 death's sliadow. That was of all others tJie 
 
I7-^ MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 time when I thouo-lit mvsclf to be walkini]: 
 alone. The wilderness was very vast and 
 very dreary, and in the midst of its vastness 
 and its dreariness my life appeared to me bnt 
 as a vapour and vanity. My God seemed to 
 have passed by on the other side, and I cried 
 out from dawn to evening that my way was 
 hid from Him. And yet at that very time it 
 was all known — my wilderness and its vast- 
 ness and its dreariness. When I thought that 
 my way was hid in the obscurity of a desert, 
 the very steps of my walk through that desert 
 were being marked and numbered. Where- 
 fore should I have ever doubted it ? Looking 
 back from the conquered land of promise I 
 can see that the wilderness was no accident, 
 no separation from the plan of God. I can 
 see that the hour when I seemed to be most 
 distant from the Father's eye was just the 
 hour in which He was in closest contact with 
 my soul. My wilderness was my garden ; 
 there, unknown to me but not unknown to 
 Him, the seeds were being sown that, in the 
 land of promise, were to become trees of 
 righteousness. There, in what appeared to 
 
MO:\IESTS ON THE MOUNT. 175 
 
 me the silence and the solitude, the chords 
 of my heart were being strung for richest 
 music, and the pulses of my heart were being 
 quickened for social life — the life of the city 
 of God. It was to me what it was made 
 to my Lord — the middle way between two 
 glories. It separated the glory of my past 
 from the glory of my future. Behind me lay 
 the waters of Jordan, where I saw the opened 
 heavens ; before me lay the glorified feast of 
 Cana, where the water of life was to be made 
 wine. And the desert was between ; the old 
 was left behind, and the new had not yet 
 come. Yet the desert was better than the 
 old, and it was leading to the new. It had 
 shut me out from the romance of Jordan that 
 it mio"ht teach me how real and earnest was 
 life's struggle, and in the very reality and 
 earnestness it was preparing me for the city of 
 God. Therefore my walk through the wilder- 
 ness was a walk with Him. He was leading 
 me all the time by green pastures and quiet 
 waters ; the Lord was in that place and I 
 knew it not. Where shall I build my monu- 
 ment of deepest gratitude ? Not amid the 
 
176 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 flowers shall I raise it, not amid the days 
 when the glitter of life was around me, not 
 even amid the hours when the first fervour of 
 a new life burst upon me, but amid the silence 
 and the solitude and the struo^ale of that 
 wilderness journey, where, for the first time, 
 I felt my iiothingness, because, for the first 
 time, I had felt the power of God. 
 
 Lxxiir. 
 
 THE SONG OF SACRIFICE. 
 
 " Sacrifice and offering Thou didst not desire ; mine ears 
 hast TJioii opened. . . . Then said /, Lo, 1 come. 
 . . . I ddighl to do 2hy will, O my God."— Vs. xl. 
 6-8. 
 
 " Mine ears hast Thou opened," It is as if the 
 Psalmist had cauGjlit the sound of a far-off" 
 strain of music, a music of preternatural love- 
 liness. It is as if he said, I hear what I never 
 heard before — a song in whose tones there is 
 not a chord of sadness, in whose melody there 
 is not a note of gloom, but only praise — 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 177 
 
 unqualified, incessant praise. And what was 
 the burden of this new song to which the 
 Psahnist listened with open ears ? It was the 
 voice of One as yet far distant, but who was 
 drawing ever nearer with a new messao^e to 
 the soul. And the messagje which He was 
 foreshadowing was this : Ye men of Israel, I 
 tell 3'ou that there is a time coming when 
 there shall be no more pain. Your religion is 
 now all pain together; you are serving God 
 with sacrifice, with fear, with trembling. 
 There is no joy in your approach to the 
 Infinite Glory ; your very gifts are wrung 
 from you, and you value what you give by 
 your difficulty in giving it. But I am coming 
 to reveal to you a more excellent way — not to 
 abolish the gift, but to abolish the sacrifice. I 
 am coming to give to your Father in heaven a 
 donation that in all the years He has never 
 received before — the delight of a human heart. 
 I am coming to yield up to His service a 
 tribute which was never before thought to be 
 in a servant's power to give — the offering of a 
 free will, the surrender of a voluntary life. I 
 will not offer my pain but my joy. You have 
 
 M 
 
178 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 yielded up to your Fullier ouly the cries of 
 tortured victims ; I shall yield up in your 
 behalf a life whose constant dying shall be 
 its constant song of praise. " Lo, I come : I 
 delight to do Thy will, my God." 
 
 Son of Man, Thou who hast ushered in this 
 day of painless worship, help me to enter into 
 Thy joy. Breathe on me that I may receive 
 the same Divine Spirit — the spirit of surren- 
 der without sense of sacrifice. Teach me day 
 by day that what my Father wishes is not my 
 Gethsemane, but my will ; not my experience 
 of suflferiug, but my power to rejoice in Him in 
 spite of my experience of suffering. Reveal to 
 me that my sacrifice is never perfect in my 
 Father's sight until in the view of my spirit 
 it is a sacrifice no more. Then and only then 
 shall I know what it is to be made comform- 
 able unto Thy death, to have fellowship with 
 Thy suffering, to be in communion with Thy 
 cross. I shall learn that dying is life, that 
 loss is gain, that perfect sacrifice is fulness of 
 joy. There shall be no more deatl), there 
 shall be no more pain, there shall be no more 
 tears, for the former things shall have passed 
 
MOME.XTS ON THE MOUNT. 179 
 
 awa}', when tiiroiigli Tliy Spirit I «liull be 
 able to pay, " I delight to do Thy will, 
 my God." 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 CHRISTIAN FREEDOM. 
 *^ The perfect la-cv of liberty." — J as. i. 25. ■ 
 
 Law aud liberty. To the natural mind these 
 are the OTeatest contrasts in the world. To 
 
 o 
 
 the heart of youth liberty presents itself as the 
 breakino- of law. The tempter comes to the 
 young man and says, Why are you not free? it 
 is an unmanly thing to be constantly under 
 restraint ; come, break your fetters, and be 
 master of yourself. That is the voice of sin to 
 every opening life, and it is a plausible voice ; 
 it promises a thing which we all value and 
 which we all ouoht to value — freedom. It 
 ofifers to give us that very boon which Christ 
 expressly came to give — liberty. But now 
 observe the difference between the mode of the 
 tempter and the mode of the Divine Master. 
 
i8o MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 The tempter says, You will be free by hreaJcing 
 the law ; Christ says, You will be free by jj^r- 
 fecting the law. Ponder these words of the 
 Apostle, " The perfect law of liberty." He 
 says. So far is restraint from being the enemy 
 of freedom, it is the ivaiit of restraint that pre- 
 vents perfect freedom ; if law were perfect, if 
 it were only sufficiently binding, if it could 
 only obtain an undivided mastery over your 
 soul, you would instantaneously be free — free 
 as the winds of heaven, free as the child at 
 play. 
 
 My soul, dost thou marvel at this doctrine ? 
 Dost thou not know that perfect law is love, 
 and that where the spirit of love is there is 
 liberty ? Before love comes, the law is not 
 perfectly thy master ; it is only without thee. 
 But when love comes, the law has possessed 
 thee altogether ; it has taken thy citadel, — 
 the heart. And this possession is thy perfect 
 freedom. Thou art never free in any pursuit 
 until the love of that pursuit has mastered 
 thee. Then, for the first time, thy will breaks 
 forth into spontaneous action, and thy heart 
 rejoices in the voluntary choice of its labour. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. l8i 
 
 Thy most glorious moment, the moment in 
 which the charter of thy freedom is for ever 
 signed, is in the hour when thou art compelled 
 to say, " I cannot help it," the hour when love 
 has become such a necessity of thy heart, such 
 a law of thy life, that thou hast no longer any 
 choice but to obey. The compulsion of thy 
 heart is thy perfect freedom ; when love shall 
 take thee prisoner, captivity itself shall be 
 taken captive. golden chain, glorious 
 servitude, free necessity, be thine my free- 
 dom evermore. Take possession of my heart, 
 my reason, my understanding, my will. En- 
 throne Thyself in the empire of my being, 
 that, in Thy sense of mastery, I may learn for 
 the first time what it is to be free, and know 
 wliat it is to be at rest. When I shall take 
 Thy yoke upon me, I shall find rest unto my 
 soul, for the yoke of Thy love is perfect joy, 
 and the law of Thy life is perfect liberty. 
 
i82 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 THE PRESERVATION OF PERSONALITY IN THE 
 CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 " 77/(7/ CjOi:^ max be all in alir — i CoR. xv. 28. 
 
 Am I, tlien, to be lost in God % Is my M'hole 
 personal life to be absorbed and overshadowed 
 in the life of the Infinite One % Am I to have 
 no more separate being than one of tliose 
 myriad drops which compose the vast ocean % 
 If so, then my goal is death indeed. If my 
 personality is to melt into the being of God as 
 a cloud melts into the blaze of sunshine, then, 
 surely, is God not my life but my annihilation. 
 He can no longer say of me, " Because / live, 
 thou shalt live also." Nay, but, my soul, thou 
 hast misread the destiny of thy being. It is 
 not merely written that God is to be all, but 
 that He is to be all in all. His universal life 
 is not to destroy the old varieties of being ; it 
 is to pulsate through these varieties. His 
 music is to fill the world, but it is to sound 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 183 
 
 tliroiioli all the varied instruments of the 
 world. His sunsliine is to Hood, the universe, 
 hut it is to be mirrored in a thousand various 
 forms. His love is to penetrate creation, but it 
 is to be reflected in the infinite diversities of 
 the hearts and souls of men. Thou sj^eakest 
 of losing thj'self in the ocean of His love, but 
 this is only poetically true. Love is an ocean 
 where no man permanently loses himself; he 
 regains himself in richer, nobler form. The 
 only ocean in which a man loses himself is 
 self-love ; God's love gives him back his life 
 that he may keep it unto life eternal. Thou 
 art not thyself until thou hast found God. 
 Wouldst thou truly behold thyself? then must 
 thou with open face behold as in a glass His 
 glory. Thou wilt never become a power to 
 thyself until God has become all in thee ; thou 
 wilt never really live until thou hast lived in 
 Him. Forget thyself, my soul. Forget thy 
 pride and tliy selfishness, thy cares and thy 
 crosses, thy world which thou bearest within 
 thee. Unbar the doors of thy being to the 
 sunshine of that other Presence that already 
 stands without, waiting to get in. And, verily, 
 
1 84 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 thy forgetfulness shall muke thee strong, thy 
 surrender shall make thee mighty, thy dying 
 unto self shall make thee alive for evermore. 
 Thy form shall be beautiful when it is gilded 
 by His light, thy voice shall be melodious 
 when it is tuned by His music, thy heart 
 shall be on fire when it is quickened by His 
 love ; thou shalt be everything when God 
 shall be all. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 ADAPTATION. 
 
 "He Jiaih made every t hi nq beinitifiil in His time^ 
 — EccLES. iii. 1 1. 
 
 What ! everything ? sorrow and trial, and pri- 
 vation and weariness, and struggle ? Surely 
 these are not the thins^s w^hich one would call 
 beautiful, and surely much of life has been 
 made up of these ? Yes, but, my soul, God 
 has made even these things for thee, and He 
 has made them to contribute to thy beauty. 
 There is a time in which sorrow is beautiful as 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 185 
 
 there is a time in which childhood is beautiful, 
 as there is a time in which winter is beautiful. 
 It is the time that justifies the sorrow ; its 
 beauty lies in its seafeonableness. Is it not 
 written that when the fuhiess of time was 
 come God sent His Son — sent into this world 
 the greatest manifestation of a cross which 
 the world has ever seen ? It was the fulness 
 of the time that justified the fulness of the 
 sorrow, that made the fulness of the sorrow 
 beautiful. Tlie world had reached that staoje 
 of hardness which needed to be crucified, and 
 therefore the crucifixion came. It came not a 
 day too soon, nor a day too late ; it was the 
 act suited to the hour, it was beautiful in its 
 time. So, my soul, has it ever been, shall it 
 ever be, with thee. God never sends His 
 cross into thy heart until thy heart is abso- 
 lutely ripe for it, until it is the only fruit 
 that would fit thy year. Thou speakest of 
 the adaptations of nature, and verily all 
 adaptation is beautiful. Thou sayest that the 
 eye was made for sunshine, that the ear was 
 made for melody, that the heart was made for 
 joy. Yea, but there are times in which 
 
1 86 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 the eye was made for (.lavkness, there are 
 times in which the ear was made for discord, 
 there are times in which the heart was made 
 for sorrow. If thou ki'iewest the time of thy 
 visitation it would be to thee the best and 
 costliest of all thy Father's gifts. Thinkest 
 thou that the wilderness is an accident ? It 
 is that which prevents accident, which keeps 
 thee from becoming a sjjontaneous flower of 
 the field. It is that which forces thee to hold 
 thy virtue as a conscious possession. It sends 
 clouds into thine understanding that tliine 
 understanding may become faith. It sends 
 temptation into thine innocence that thine 
 innocence may become purity. It sends be- 
 reavement into thy heart that thy heart may 
 become awake to its infinite power of loving. 
 If thou wert a plant the calm would to thee 
 alone be beautiful, but because thou art a 
 man thou hast need also of the storm. One 
 day thou shalt bless God for the cloud as well 
 as for the sunshine ; He has made them both 
 beautiful, each in its time. 
 
MOMENJS ON THE MOUNT. 187 
 
 LXXVIL 
 
 THE BUILDING OF THE SOUL. 
 
 " ^nd the house luJien it was in huilaing, was Inii't of if one 
 711 ade fcady before it was broitg/it thilJier : so that there 
 was neither Jtamnicr nor axe nor any tool of iron heard 
 in the house while it was in building."' — i Kings 
 vi. 7. 
 
 One would tLink, from sucli words as these, 
 that tliere was 110 room for struo-ole in the re- 
 ligious life, nor in the conversion into that life. 
 The whole building grows up softly, silently, 
 almost mystically, and we are tempted to feel 
 as if there were no sympathy in that temple 
 with the wrestling of our hearts. Nay, but 
 hast thou forootten that the struo-o-le was all 
 
 o 00 
 
 past ere ever the building was begun ? Hast 
 thou forgotten that the stone was " made 
 ready before it was brought thither ? " What 
 a world of meaning lies unspoken in that little 
 clause ? Before these stones came into unity 
 they all existed in individual separation, in 
 isolation, in solitude. Before they passed 
 
iS8 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 into the stao-e of silent buildino- tliev bad each 
 to go through a process of uoise and couflict, 
 had each to be hewn iuto symmetry with its 
 pLace ill the coming temple. There is a great 
 unrecorded battle of the spiritual life hinted 
 at in this making ready ; it is but a flash of 
 thought, but it is a flash that lights up our 
 whole experience and reveals us to ourselves. 
 It tells us that the silence is not the first but 
 the last thing, that there is a making ready 
 for the symmetry ere the symmetry is reached. 
 It tells us that Saul of Tarsus has his struo-ole 
 ere the light from heaven breaks upon his 
 view — that conflict where he finds it so hard 
 to kick against the goads. It tells us that 
 Nicodemus has his solitary w^alk by night ere 
 he can take up the dead Christ from the 
 shadow of the cross — that solitary vs^alk 
 wherein he feels deserted by the old and not 
 yet convinced by the new. And marvellously 
 comfortino; is this messag-e which it brings to 
 many a struggling soul. Art thou perplexed 
 by thine inward disquietude ? Art thou 
 tossed upon a sea of doubt and wrapt in a 
 mist of uncertainty ? Art thou experiencing 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 189 
 
 the accusations of a conscience that speaks 
 louder and louder every day ? Say not that, 
 therefore, there is no place for thee within the 
 silence of the mystic temple ; it is just there- 
 fore that there is a place for thee. This 
 struggle of thine is thy making ready. This 
 loudness of thy conscience is the hewing of 
 thy hardness into symmetry — the symmetry 
 that will fit thee to be a stone in the temple 
 of Christ. Thy solitude is not the neglect of 
 thee, thy struggle is not the absence of thy 
 God from thee ; it is the eye of thy God upo7i 
 thee. He has taken thee up to the wilderness 
 that He may make thee ready. All the paiu 
 He sends thee is the sign of His interest in 
 thee, the proof that He is preparing thee for 
 the symmetry of the temple of peace. Thy 
 wilderness is the vestibule into thy heaven. 
 Bless the Lord, my soul. 
 
I90 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 THE HELP OF GOD. 
 
 " JTe was inarvellotisly helped till he was strong.^ 
 — 2 Chron. xxvi. 15. 
 
 Theee are two kinds of help in tbis world ; 
 there is marvellous help, and there is natural 
 help. The marvellous help declines as the power 
 of natural help grows. There is a time when 
 we cannot help ourselves, and then everything 
 is provided for us ; we are guided by instinct 
 as the bee is guided. Infancy is the most 
 helpless of all periods so far as our self-help 
 goes, yet perhaps it is the period of our least 
 danger. We have then God's marvellous help 
 — the provision of maternal love and our own 
 childlike instinct of obedience. We are led 
 by a thousand influences, not one of which we 
 have foreseen, not one of which we recosfnise 
 even when it appears. But as our natural 
 strength grows, God's supernatural strength 
 is gradually withdrawn, and when we have 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 191 
 
 reached the promised land of our human 
 nature tlie mii'aculous manna ceases. Say 
 not that, therefore, God has Himself with- 
 drawn ; remember that what thou callest 
 nature is God's help also. When thou wert 
 young and nature was weak He helped thee 
 marvellously, supernaturally ; when thou art 
 full-grown and nature is strong He helps thee 
 naturally — co-operates with thy nature, be- 
 comes a fellow- worker wdth thee. Dost thou 
 see more of the supernatural in the lower than 
 in the human creation ? Say not on that 
 account that there is less provision made for 
 man. It is just the provision made for man 
 that has caused the manna to cease. Knowest 
 thou how dear to the heart of God it is to 
 have a fellow-worker with Himself — one that 
 feels what He feels, and whose spirit is helpino- 
 with His own ? Knowest thou how dear it is 
 even to the earthly father when he learns for 
 the first time that his being is no longer super- 
 natural to the heart of his child, when, for 
 the first time, the heart of his child works with 
 his heart, helps with his help, strives witlj his 
 aim, feels with his desire ? That is an earthly 
 
192 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 father's joy because in that hour he knows 
 that he is uot supernatural to his child any 
 more, but that their uatures are for ever one. 
 So is it with thy heavenly Father when He 
 sees His Christ in thee ; He reaches then the 
 true parental joy. 'Tis then He knows that 
 the partition wall is broken between Him and 
 thee, that heaven and earth have met together. 
 'Tis then He knows that He no longer stands 
 over thee as a lawgiver, or dictates to thee as 
 a sovereion, for He beholds thee stronsj with 
 His strength, natural with His nature, able to 
 work with Him, because His spirit has become 
 thine own. Hapj)y art thou, my soul, when 
 thy strength shall be so perfected to thy 
 Father's eye that He shall send thee no more 
 the help that is marvellous, but shall ask thee 
 to work with Him in that human helpfulness 
 which is the life of Christ. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 193 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 DIVINE EDUCATION 
 
 " / faug/if Epln-aim also to go, iakifig them by their arms ; 
 but they knew not that I healed them." — Hosea xi. 3. 
 
 Thou sajest that this world is a scene of proba- 
 tion ; no, it is not, it is a place of education. 
 God has placed thee here not to prove thee but 
 to teach thee — to hold thee by the arms untd 
 thou shalt learn to walk. What need to put 
 thee into the world to prove that by nature 
 thou canst not walk ? What need to bring 
 thee into life only that thou may est sit for 
 thy portrait and reveal thy blemishes in the 
 light of eternity ? If this were all the design 
 of thy being it were indeed a waste of being. 
 Thy Father hath made thee for something 
 other than that — not to prove thine impotence 
 but to train thy footsteps, not to reveal thy 
 blemishes but to perfect thy beauty. Thy 
 God is educating thee. Very beautiful is the 
 metaphor by which He describes His educa- 
 
194 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 tion of the world : it is that of a mother train- 
 ing the steps of her child. She stands at a 
 seeming distance and says, " Come." She 
 stands at a seeming distance, but all the time 
 the intervening space is bridged by the arms 
 of love. There is not a moment's break in the 
 continuity of that grasp with which she holds 
 her treasure. She seeks but to awaken with- 
 in her child that pride of new responsibility 
 which comes from the semblance of beinoj 
 alone, to make it feel as if it luere independent 
 by the exercise of its own power. Nor does 
 she tell it that she is teaching it to walk. We 
 are best taught when we are taught uncon- 
 sciously. She tempts it towards her with some 
 glittering prize, some bright bauble, some 
 sparkling reward, and the little feet know not 
 that the true prize is their own healing, the 
 true reward their own power of exercise. So, 
 too, is it with thy heavenly Father. He 
 tempts thee on thy way, on His way, by 
 something which is not His object, nor which 
 yet is thy goal. He shows thee a glittering 
 bauble at the end of the way, and says, 
 " Come ; " He tempts thee by a promised land 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 195 
 
 into a land that transcends the promise. Thou 
 knowest not that He heals thee. . T' secnis to. 
 thee that thou art being led by liie green 
 pastures ouly that thou mayest gather the 
 flowers of earthly pleasure. Yet all the time 
 thou art being conducted by a way that thou 
 knowest not into a city of habitation of which 
 thou dost not dream. Thy Father's end for 
 thee is better than thine own end for thyself; 
 thine is only the eartljly Canaan, His is the 
 heavenly Christ. The promised land thou art 
 seeking is at best but poor and fleeting, but in 
 thy march towards it thou art gaining what 
 thou dost not seek — the lesson of a walk with 
 God. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 THE SECRET OF THE LORD, 
 
 " A neiu name 7ii!ittcn, which no man knoiucth savitig he 
 that receh'eth it." — Rev, ii. 17. 
 
 There is a secret word which admits men into 
 the Christian society, but it is a word that is 
 
196 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 spoken only to the heart ; it is the word 
 peace. This is the secret of the Lord that is 
 with them that fear Him. The peace of Christ 
 in the soul to the eye of an outward beholder 
 is indeed a secret. He cannot explain it, he 
 cannot account for it, he cannot understand it ; 
 it seems to him as if it had no right to be. 
 He sees men joyous where he would be miser- 
 able, restful where he would be perplexed^ 
 calm where he would be appalled, and he asks, 
 Whence is it so ? There is a peace which 
 does not pass understanding, which the world 
 understands quite well, and can refer to reason- 
 able causes. Wealth, fame, rank, power, free- 
 dom from the tossiugs and the heavings of the 
 great sea of human trouble, anchorage within 
 some earthly haven on which the storms never 
 blow — all this the world can appreciate as a 
 source of peace. But where riches are not, 
 where fame and power are not, where freedom 
 from the storm is not found, where the haven 
 of anchorage is not known, — there the world 
 wonders to find unbroken joy. It marvels 
 to see rest amid unrest, calm amid storm, 
 light amid darkness, love amid shadow, life 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 197 
 
 amid death ; the peace of Christ is to it a 
 secret. 
 
 My soul, it must he a secret to thee too 
 even after thou hast possessed it. Thou 
 hearest the sound of the wind, but canst not 
 tell whence it cometh ; so is it with the peace 
 of Christ within thee. When that peace is 
 within thee thou hast, indeed, a joy, but it is 
 a joy thyself dost not understand ; it passeth 
 even thy knowledge. It lies beneath all 
 human causes, it is independent of all human 
 circumstances. Thou canst no more tell why 
 thy heart shines than thou canst tell why the 
 sun shines ; it shines because it has become 
 its nature so to do. It gets not its light from 
 aught without, nay, it shall give its light to 
 everything without — even to the shadows. It 
 is not kindled by the glow of worldly fortune, 
 nay, it will impart its own glow even to 
 worldly misfortune, will turn everything it 
 touches into gold. Divine Peace, that art a 
 contradiction to them that know Thee not and 
 a secret even to them that know Thee, let me 
 be a sharer in Thy power. Let me experience 
 the marvel of Thy presence within me without 
 
198 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 seeking to solve the niarvel. Let me be con- 
 tent to be a secret unto myself, a wonder 
 to the law of my own being. Let me know 
 what it is to have the incomprehensible joy, 
 the unexplainable rest, the stillness that can- 
 not be stirred though the earth be removed 
 and the mountains be cast into the depths of 
 the sea. Let me experience the Divine sleep 
 in the midst of the waves — the sleep that Thou 
 promisest to Thy beloved ; so shall I learn 
 what it is to possess ths secret of the Lord. 
 
 LXXXL 
 
 IN THE HANDS OF GOD. 
 
 " // t's a fearful ih'utg to fall into the hands of the living 
 God."—WY.^. X. 31. 
 
 Yea, but it is a more fearful thins; still not to 
 fall into His hands. To fall into His hands 
 must be pain, for the passage from death into 
 life is ever painful. The first sensation of an 
 infant is paii], just because life has come and 
 is in striio-ole with the old elements of death. 
 
 00 
 
MOMhNTS ON THE MOUNT. 199 
 
 There is a fear in all life winch does not exist 
 in lifelessncss, for the sense of life is in its 
 nature an awful thing. But wouldst thou, 
 therefore, rather be without if? wouldst thou, 
 therefore, rather be a clod of the valley? Nay, 
 for the very aw^fuliiess of the possession is 
 itself th}^ glory. So is it w-itli thy spiritual 
 life. When it comes to thee it comes with a 
 great sense of paiu. It wakens thee up to the 
 fearfulness, to the awfulness, of being a respon- 
 sible soul. It tells thee that thou art in the 
 presence of a law which thou hast violated, 
 that tljou art in the midst of an universe with 
 which thou art not in unison. It quickens 
 thee into the knowledge that there is impurity 
 within thyself, and causes thee to cry out, 
 " wretched man that I am ! " It is only 
 when the pure life comes that the impure life 
 is revealed. It is oidy when the pure life 
 comes that the impure life begins to struggle. 
 The struggle of thy soul is the fruit of thy 
 new birth. The old life was a stagnant pool ; 
 the new is a waving sea. Its waves are its 
 glory, its storms are the signs of its higher 
 destiny. 
 
200 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 God, Thou liviug God, let me fall into 
 Thy hands; it is only in Thy hands that I cau 
 be perfectly safe. I know tbat to fall into 
 Thy hands is indeed a fearful thing ; I know 
 that it is the beginning of all my fears, for it 
 is the beginning of all my responsibilities. 
 In Thy hands I shall learn the awfulness of 
 my spiritual being, in Thy hands I shall learn 
 how little it has fulfilled its destiny. Never- 
 theless, it is in Thy hands alone that I would 
 be ; the fear that comes from contact with 
 Thee is indeed the beoinniuo^ of wisdom. 
 There would be no penalty to me so great as 
 to fall out of Thy hands ; to be out of Thy 
 hands is to be dead. There is a pain ivith 
 Thee, which is not found without Thee, but it 
 is the pain of love which is the pain of the 
 life Divine. Translate me into that life. Lift 
 me into union with Thine own Divine being. 
 Eaise me into fellowship with that power of 
 Thy love which is the power of Thy suffering. 
 Take me into Thy hands and hold me in Thy 
 fear. Let me learn in Thy life how solemn is 
 my own, let me see in Thy glory how poor is 
 my own. I will not shrink from the fear of 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 201 
 
 beholding in a glass the image of my moral 
 deformity, if only I know that the glass 
 wherein I behold it has been flishioned by the 
 hands of the living God. 
 
 LXXXII 
 
 THE REVEALING PAST. 
 ^^ HUherto hath the Lord helped tis." — i Sam. vii. 12. 
 
 My Father, I am ever seeking from Thee a 
 new revelation, and I am ever saying that 
 Thou art silent. Yet it is only my own heart 
 that is silent. I am seeking Thy revelation in 
 the wrong direction ; I am asking it from my 
 future, and lo, it is coming from my past. 
 The vision of my past is not a vision of old 
 things ; they are all renewed in the light of 
 retrospect. The newest of all revelations is 
 the life of my past when seen in Thee ; it is 
 like the difference between passing through a 
 landscape at night and looking down upon the 
 same landscape from the brow of the hill at 
 
202 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 moruing. My past is so ti'ansfigured in retro- 
 spect that I would not have known it. Spots 
 that looked barren when I was passinor tliroiiofh. 
 appear in looking back as scenes of luxuriant 
 verdure. Events that seemed adverse in the 
 watches of the niglit are transformed by the 
 morninsf beam into messao'es of blessinsr. 
 Crosses that pressed upon my soul in wander- 
 inof throuo;h the wilderness are seen from the 
 promised land to have been exceeding weights 
 of glory, and it is almost with a cry of surprise 
 that I exclaim, " Hitherto hatli the Lord helped 
 me." The marvel of Thy revelation is its 
 glorification of my rejected circumstances ; the 
 stones which the builder refused have been 
 made the head of the corner. I have oot more 
 from Thee than faith jn'omised. Faith only pro- 
 mised that Thou wouldst help me i}i spite of 
 these circumstances, but lo, Thou hast made 
 these circumstances themselves my helpers. 
 Faith only promised that Thou wouldst 
 deliver my soul from its struggles, but lo, 
 Thou hast revealed to me that my struggles 
 were themselves the agents of Thy deliverance. 
 Faith only piomiscd that notwithstanding the 
 
MOMrNiS O.V 1 \IOUNT. 203 
 
 \vilderness I wi>;il ' be brought safely to tlie 
 land of rest, biu 1 j, Thou hast sliowu ujc tiiai 
 the wildenie'^s was itself the very portal to tuat 
 r.tnd. Th' 'lore, my [vast is to me a new 
 revelation of Thyself. Thou hast not suflereci 
 uie to see the hereafter, but Thou hast allowed 
 ■Jie to behold the hitherto, and verily the 
 iiitiiorto is glorious. No vision of the future 
 ;.;lury could to me be more wondrous, more 
 cl ^ine, than is this siglit of the glory of nu' 
 past. I see it from the Mount of Transfigura- 
 lion, and it is all new ; its face is shining, its 
 garments are oiistenim:r. I will raise a monu- 
 ment to the glory of my past; I will build ic 
 with the rejected stones that I left despised b. 
 the wayside, and I will write upon it the 
 record of Tliy guiding luve, " Hitherto iiati: 
 liie Loid iicJpud us." 
 
204 MOME.'^TS ON 7 HE MOUNT. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 THE ANSWER TO CHRISrS PRAYER. 
 
 " W/io in the days of His flesh, ivhen He had offered 
 up prayers and supplications, with strong crying 
 and tears, unto Him that was able to save Hitn 
 from deatli, and was heard in that He feared" — 
 Heb. v. 7. 
 
 "Was heard in that He feared;" was it so? 
 I had always thought that His was an un- 
 answered prayer. Did the bitter cup pass 
 from His lips when, in the solitude of the 
 Gethsemane shadows, He cried unto His 
 Father ? did there come to Hiiu that respite 
 from death which seemed to be the object of 
 His prayer ? Nay, for that was not the 
 object of His prayer; that desire was only- 
 expressed conditionally, "if it be possible, 
 let this cup pass from me." But there was 
 a desire in the depths of His heart which was 
 expressed unconditionally ; it was the prayer 
 that His human will might be one with the 
 Divine will. " He was heard in that He 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 205 
 
 feared," ^ajs the sacred writer; His fear was 
 the bcautirul thing w^liich caused His prayer 
 to be accepted. Fear is not generally beauti- 
 ful, it is not commonly a virtue at all. What 
 was there about this fear of Jesus which made 
 it so precious in the Father's sight ? It was 
 this — His was not the fear of death, but the 
 dread of human frailty. He was afraid lest 
 the weakness of the flesh should make Him 
 choose a path diflerent from the path His 
 Father had chosen for Him. He was afraid 
 lest even in desire He should follow a road 
 less dolorous than that which His Father had 
 prepared, and the strong crying of His spirit 
 came forth in the earnest supplication, " Not 
 as I will, but as Thou wilt." That was the 
 prayer which His Father answered, and in the 
 answer to that prayer the cause of His fear 
 vanished. The answer came not in the rollinof 
 back of death but in the strens^thenino: of His 
 spirit for death, not in the passing of the 
 cup, but in the passing of the bitterness from 
 the cup; the garden of Gethsemane was con- 
 quered when the angels appeared to strengthen 
 Him. 
 
2o6 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 Son of M;iii> let me be a sliaver iu Thy 
 Divine strength, f, too, have my Gethsemaiies, 
 where there are shadows \^•itbout and fi-ars 
 within and solitudes around. At these times 
 my soul is troubled, and I know not what I 
 shall ask. The dark hour which has come to 
 me may have been the hour for which I was 
 made, and I dare not say unconditionally, 
 " Father, save me from this hour." But in 
 TJiy strength, Son of Man, I shall have all 
 I need and more. If the Spirit that fortified 
 Thee shall become my spirit, I shall be strong 
 with Thy Divine streugth. Unite my will to 
 Thy will, that Thy experience may become 
 mine own. Help me to learn of Tliee, that 
 the yoke of life may be eased without being 
 diminished, that the burden of life may be 
 lightened without being lessened. Help me to 
 experience that new j^ower of the eye which 
 shall make it unnecessary to roll away the 
 clouds of night, that new streugth of the arm 
 which shall cause it to be unneeded that the 
 outward weight should be removed. Let me 
 learn of Thee that there is an answer to prayer 
 which eye sees not, which ear hears not, which 
 
MUMESrS ON THE MOUNT. 207 
 
 bistoiy recoitls not, which is received and 
 
 recorded only in the silent depths of the 
 souL 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 FAITH AND KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 " And we belii've and arc sure that Jhoii art iJiat Christ, 
 the Son of the Ih'ing God."- — John vi. 69. 
 
 " We believe and are sure ; " more strictly it 
 should be rendered, " We have believed and 
 are sure." The thought of the apostle is that 
 there has been a development in his experi- 
 ence ; he began b}'' simple faith, and he has 
 ended with assured knowledg^e. Such is ever 
 the order of the Christian understandino; ; we 
 first believe, and then we know. Faith is 
 not the opposite of knowledge; it is the anti- 
 cipation, the prophecy of knowledge. Faith is 
 to knowledge what the swallow is to the 
 summer — the messeno-er that sino-s its comino-. 
 
 O o O 
 
 Faith soars up to heaven in the mornino- and 
 
2o8 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 sees ill advance the [ilaii of the unfolding day. 
 It cannot yet trace the plan, it cannot yet tell 
 how the plan is to be unfolded, but it beholds 
 what it cannot analyse, it trusts what it can- 
 not verify. So was it with the Master when 
 He first said to His disciples, " Follow me." 
 Why should He have hoped that they would 
 follow Him ? they did not yet know Him. 
 But He felt that they must follow Him before 
 they knew Him, that they could only come to 
 know Him through the experience of being 
 near Him. And so He called upon another 
 faculty than knowledge ; He appealed to the 
 power of their faith. He said. Give me the 
 prophetic trust of your souls. I am come to 
 lead you by the green pastures and beside the 
 quiet waters, to let you know by the walk of 
 experience that the pastures of life are green, 
 and that the waters of life are quiet. But you 
 can only come to know it by icalhing with me. 
 You must come to me without knowledge, 
 without proof, without experience ; you must 
 give me your faith. Pay me with your love in 
 advance. I do not ask it without return ; I 
 will repay its value tenfold— in work, in sacri- 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 209 
 
 fice, but 1 cannot work for you unless you will 
 first let me work through you. Grant me 
 your sympathy beforehand. Grant me the 
 mesmeric look of faith, that I may fill your life 
 with my presence. Grant me the steadfast 
 gaze of the eye, that I may transform you into 
 my own image. Grant me the complete sur- 
 render of the will, that I may make your 
 will my will. When I have made your will 
 my will there shall be no more room for faith; 
 faith shall be lost in sight, and ye shall know 
 as ye are known. Trust me but one hour 
 with the treasure of your hearts, and with rich 
 interest I will give them back to you again ; 
 lend them to me with faith, and I will restore 
 them to you with knowledge — that knowledge 
 of me which is life eternal. In that hour you 
 shall be able to say, " Once we believed, now 
 we are sure." 
 
210 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 A PROVIDENTIAL ABSENCE OF GOD. 
 
 " Zazams is dead, and I am glad for your sokes that T 
 u<as 7!ot there." — John xi. 14, 15. 
 
 There may be a beuevolent absence of God; 
 say rather there may be an absence of God 
 which is a phase of His providential presence. 
 Strange at first glance read the Divine words, 
 " I was glad that I was not there." Glad for 
 what? Does He mean that had He been there 
 Lazarus W'ould not have died ? Yes, that is 
 undoubtedly His meaning : He says just w^ljat 
 Martha said. He felt that had He been there 
 His human sympathy would have overcome 
 Him, and the stroke of death would have been 
 averted. But why be glad for th's ? Martha 
 was not glad of it, it was the special cause of 
 her sorrow. Yes, but Martha did not see the 
 end ; she beheld only the closing of the grave 
 over hor dead, not its re-opening to give her 
 dead back auaiii. He beheld what Martha 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 211 
 
 did not behold, lie saw the posbibilily of a 
 greater glory through the suffering than could 
 be reached without tlie sufferino-. He saw 
 
 O 
 
 that the shining after rain would be clearer 
 than the light that had never been dimmed 
 with tears, and He rejoiced in that momentary 
 absence of His person which had given to 
 His love so much more power to bestow. 
 
 My soul, there are times when thou lament- 
 est the absence of any visible sign that thy 
 God is near. There are seasons when thou 
 Driest in the night, " Why art Thou so far 
 from helping me ? " '' J\Jy way is hid from the 
 Lord, and my judgment is j^assed over from 
 mv God." Thinkest thou that the hidino- of 
 His face from thee comes from His forgetful- 
 ness of thee ? Nay, but from His very excess 
 of mindfulness. His seeming absence is itself 
 a form of His preseiice, His refusal to inter- 
 vene in thy sorrow is itself an act of divinest 
 intervention. Thy sorrow is His messenger to 
 thy heart, and it is a messenger of love. It 
 comes to bring thee a greater glory than it 
 takes away. It is sent to press the flower of 
 life to make it pour forth its perfume. It 
 
212 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 comes to break the alabaster box, but only that 
 the frngrance \Yliicli it imprisons within itself 
 may be diffused far and wide and fill the house 
 of humanity. Thy Father rejoices that He is 
 not there. He woul;! not interfere with that 
 which is the discipline, the unfolding of thy 
 heart. He would grieve to grant thee a tem- 
 porary cessation of pain at the expense of 
 a permanent loss of power. His best gift 
 to thee has been the absence of His interven- 
 ing power. His best answer to thee has been 
 His refusal to interfere with the discipline of 
 thy human sorrow. His best love to thee has 
 been His silence in the night, when thou 
 madest thy petition that the night might be 
 removed. One day thou shalt thank Him for 
 His silence, one day thou shalt bless Him for 
 His passiveness, one day thou shalt find the 
 treasures of the night, and praise Thy Father 
 that He let thee sojourn there. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 213 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 SELF-CO MM UNION. 
 
 " Stand in awe, a?id sin not : commune 7vith yojir own 
 heart tipon your bed, and be still. Offer the sacrifices 
 of righteousness, and pit your trust in the Lord." — 
 Ps. iv. 4, 5. 
 
 There are four phases in the birth of the 
 religious life — self-awakening, self-reflection, 
 self-help, and self-abandonment. There is first 
 the awakening of self-life to the presence of 
 another law, a moral law which says, " Stand 
 in awe, and sin not." There is secondly the 
 communing of the soul with itself, the asking 
 of that momentous question, "Am I in har- 
 mony with this moral law 1 " There is thirdly 
 the effort to reach that harmony by deeds that 
 shall create the consciousness of merit — the 
 offering of the sacrifices of righteousness. 
 Lastly there is the perception that the con- 
 sciousness of merit is itself a want of harmony 
 with law, and the soul by an act of self-forget- 
 
±14 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 fulness loses alike its sense of merit and 
 demerit in the trust of the living God. 
 
 My soul, wouldst thou reach this blessed 
 conclusion ? Wouldst thou arrive at this final 
 haven of moral peace where thy weakness 
 shall itself become thy strength ? Thou 
 mayest arrive at it, but it must be after a 
 storm — a storm whose peculiarity shall be its 
 inaudibleness to any ear but thine. Ere 
 thou canst reach the final rest thou must enter 
 into communion with thyself, must examine 
 thine old nature in the stillness of solitude. 
 Thine must be a struQ;o;le with thine own 
 thoughts — a struggle where there is no clang 
 of arms, but whose soreness lies in its very 
 silence. How still is that communion which 
 thy God requires of thee ! " Commune with 
 thine own heart ; " what converse so silent as 
 that ? " Thine own heart ; " not the heart of 
 another. The heart of another would give 
 more companionship, but it would give less 
 test of truth. Thou mightest compare thy 
 righteousness with the righteousness of thy 
 brother, and go down to thy house rejoicing, 
 and yet all the time thou mightest be in dis- 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 215 
 
 cord with the moral law of God. Only in 
 thine own heart canst thou see thyself truly 
 reflected, therefore it is with thyself that thy 
 Father bids thee commune. " Commune upon 
 thy bed ; " not alone with thine own heart, but 
 with thine own heart in the stillest locality — 
 in the silence of the midnight hour, where there 
 is no distraction, and where there is no decep- 
 tion. There thou shalt learn wdiat it is to be 
 an individual soul. In the world thou art 
 taught to forget this ; thy little life is 
 swallowed up in the crowd, and thy moral 
 good or ill seems an indifferent thing. But 
 here the world's judgment is reversed. When 
 thou art alone with God the crowd melts 
 away, and thou art to thyself an universe. 
 Thy very sense of sin reveals to thee the 
 infinitude of thy being. Thy very moral 
 struggle tells thee that in spite of thyself 
 thou art an immortal. Commune with thine 
 own heart, my soul. 
 
216 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 SPIRITUAL GROWTH. 
 
 ' ' I/c brought vie up also out of an horrible pit, out of the 
 miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established 
 my goings. A7id He hath put a new song in 7ny 
 mouth, even praise unto our God : many shall see it, 
 and fear, and shall trust in the Lord." — Ps. xl. 2, 3. 
 
 The Psalmist is tracins: the staijes of his own 
 experience, the successive steps by which he 
 climbed the mount of God. At first it was 
 only the deliverance from a dark past : " He 
 brought me up out of an horrible pit, out of 
 the miry ckiy." It was a stage of moral eleva- 
 tion rather than of moral fixeduess, a lifting 
 into the air, but not yet the settling on a rock. 
 That stage came secondly. There came a 
 time when God set his feet on a rock and 
 established his goings. He was transported 
 from the air to the ground, from the flight to 
 the walk, from the mere sense of liberation to 
 the principle of that truth which made him 
 free. But he was not yet complete ; principle 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 217 
 
 is mere duty, it is not yet love. The mind 
 may be settled on a rock and yet the heart 
 may be cold. He wanted not only a path for 
 his feet but a new song for his mouth, and 
 that which he wanted came. To the rigidness 
 of the rock was added the heart of joy : "He 
 hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise 
 unto our God." One other step remained to 
 crown, to culminate the life ; the Psalmist 
 must relinquish the thought of himself, even 
 the thought of his own progress. He must 
 come to value his spiritual joy, not so much 
 for what it is as for what it can do. He must 
 come to see that the glory of his salvation is 
 its power to be the salvation of others ; his 
 life will be complete when he shall say, 
 " Many shall see it, and fear, and shall trust 
 in the Lord." 
 
 My soul, that progress must be thine also. 
 Marvel not that thou art not instantaneously 
 in possession of the fulness of joy ; there 
 is much to be done within thee ere the new 
 song shall come. Thine must at first be only 
 the sense of deliverance, of emancipation from 
 the pit and from the mire. The weaning from 
 
21 8 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 the old does not at once bring the joy of the 
 new. Thou mayest come even to rest on the 
 settled rock without an immediate entrance 
 into tliut joy ; the power of duty may make 
 thee strong without yet making thee buoyant. 
 But the hour of love is at hand, and will not 
 tarry — the hour when the walk of the feet 
 shall be accompanied by the song of the heart. 
 Thy table is spread at first in the presence of 
 thine enemies, and thy path of principle seems 
 a path of sternness, but ere long law shall be 
 lost in love, and thy cup shall overflow. Thy 
 cup shall overflow in most abundance when 
 thou thyself shalt overflow. Thou shalt find 
 thy deepest peace when thou hast forgotten 
 its presence in the care for interests not thine 
 own, and thy new song shall reach its full 
 melody when its joys shall be this : " Many shall 
 See it, and fear, and shall trust in the Lord." 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 21Q 
 
 LXXXVITI. 
 
 THE PROMISE OF HE A VEN. 
 
 " T//y Spir it is good : lead me info the land of Jipright- 
 ness." — Ps. clxiii. 10. 
 
 How beautiful is this thought of the Psalmist I 
 There is a harmony, he says, between our 
 powers and our destiny. Goodness must lead 
 to the land of goodness. Is not this thought 
 of the Psalmist thy purest natural hope of 
 immortality? Thou art conscious within thee 
 of great moral yearnings — yearnings which 
 this world cannot fill. Thou feelest in thy 
 heart aspirings which thy hand cannot reach, 
 ideals which thy life cannot realise, resolves 
 which thy will cannot execute. Are not these 
 aspirings the voice of the Spirit within thee ? 
 Yea, verily, and yet they are little more 
 than prophetic voices. How little hast thou 
 achieved of those aspirings even in thy best 
 moments, how little hast thou reached of those 
 ideals even in thy highest flights ! There is a 
 law in thy members warring against the law 
 
2 20 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 of tliy miiKl, and the weakness of tliy flesh 
 refuses to endorse the will of thy spirit. Is, 
 then, the voice of God within thee a delusion ? 
 Nay, it is a prophecy. It reveals within thee 
 more than thou canst embody without thee, 
 but even so it predicts the advent of a higher 
 power. Thy desire for goodness outruns thy 
 capacity, yet it is the forerunner that tells that 
 a larger capacity is coming. Is thy moral 
 nature alone to be without its goal ? Is every- 
 thing to be provided for but thine aspirings 
 after the beauty of holiness '? Earth has filled 
 all other capacities wath employment and with 
 enjoyment. This alone is unsatisfied here. 
 Surely it shall be satisfied elsewhere, surely it 
 shall be abundantly satisfied with the goodness 
 of God's house and with the river of His 
 pleasures. Everywhere but in thy heart there 
 are heard already the full echoes of His praise, 
 but within thy heart praise yet luaiteth for 
 Him. Thou art as yet only a promise to 
 thy Maker, only a promise to thyself — a prim- 
 rose in the cold, a dawn amid the shadow^s of 
 the East. Yet the promise is made by some- 
 thing higher than thee — even the Spirit of 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 221 
 
 truth tliat is within thee. Thy spring demaiuls 
 a summer, thy dawn is the pledge of a day. 
 The Spirit of God is good, therefore He shall 
 lead thee into the land of u^^rightness. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 THE GLORY OF DIVINE LOVE. 
 
 " T/ic glory as of the only hegotle7i of the I-'ather, full of 
 grace and truth.''' — John i. 14. 
 
 To be full of grace and truth was indeed 
 a glorv. It was the meetings of two things 
 which in the souls of men are antaofonistic 
 to one another. There are souls which easily 
 bestow grace, which find it not hard to for- 
 give, but they have often a dim perception 
 of the majesty of that truth which has been 
 violated. There are souls which have a clear 
 perception of the majesty of truth and a deep 
 sense of the sin that swerves from it, but they 
 are often inexorable in their justice and unable 
 to pardon ; they have more truth than grace. 
 
222 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 Here there is a perfect blending* of extremes-— 
 fulness of grace united to fulness of truth. 
 There is a forgiveness which is valueless 
 because there is no sense of wrong ; there is a 
 sense of wrons^ which is forbidding because 
 there is no power of forgiveness. Here perfect 
 forgiveness is joined with perfect perception. 
 The glory of Christ's love is that it comes not 
 from darkness but from light ; He forgave the 
 sinner because He bore the sin. Never was 
 His forgiveness so complete as when He bore 
 His fullest witness to the awful truth. When 
 did He cry, " Father, forgive them: they know 
 not what they do " ? Was it when He began 
 to think lightly of a violated law ? Nay, it 
 was when the violated law was pressing upon 
 His soul, and the reproach of sin was breaking 
 His heart. His love was born of His pity, and 
 His pity was born of His purity. He felt 
 that we had already lost what He called our 
 souls. He saw us blind in a world of lii-ht, 
 deaf in a world of music, cold in a world of 
 warmth, heartless in a world of love, dead in 
 a world of life, and He lifted up His eyes and 
 cried: "Father, I am clouded in their darkness, 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 223 
 
 Cfive tlicm liolit : I am wounded in their 
 sorrow, give tliem joy ; I am pierced in their 
 coldness, give them warmth ; I am crucified in 
 their death, give them life eternal." Son of 
 Man, that was Thine hour of glory. There, 
 as in tints of blended rainbow, met colours 
 that before had been disjoined — righteousness 
 and peace, justice and forgiveness, penalty and 
 pardon, the sentence of death and the mes- 
 sage of life. Heaven and earth met together, 
 judgment and mercy embraced each other in 
 the fulness of Thy glory. The hour of sin's con- 
 demnation was the hour of a world's redemp- 
 tion. Grace and truth stood side by side. 
 
 xo. 
 
 STUBBORN SINS. 
 
 " Howheit this kind gocth not out but by prayer and 
 fasting.^' — Matt. xvii. 21. 
 
 There are temptations in the human soul 
 which are not easily extinguished, which can 
 
224 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 ouly be extinguisliecl tlirough a process of 
 pain. There are sins which may disappear in a 
 moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the 
 Wast of God's trump of judgment. Saul, who 
 yesterday was walking in darkness, may see 
 to-day a light above the brightness of the sun, 
 and in an instant the old life may fall and 
 a new life may rise. But Saul's temptation 
 came from ivithin, and was therefore sooner 
 reached by the Spirit. There are temptations 
 which come from without, which are given to 
 the soul by its union with the body. These 
 are they which ofttimes cast the man into 
 the fire and ofttimes into the water; these 
 are they which make him lunatic by destroy- 
 ing the force of his will. And these are they 
 which go not out except by prayer and fast- 
 ing. Prayer alone will not do ; prayer gives 
 but the grand resolution to abstain, but resolu- 
 tion, if not followed by action, fades in the light 
 of morning. Fasting alone will not do ; fast- 
 ing is but the abstinence of the flesh, but the 
 abstinence of the flesh is weariness without 
 the consent of the spirit. The old habits of a 
 man's life may not vanish in the moment of 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 225 
 
 liis conversion. If thou liearest him confess 
 Christ to-day, and seest him act wrongfully 
 to-morrow, do not say that he was therefore 
 a hypocrite. "Did not I see thee in the 
 garden with Him ? " is what thou shalt have to 
 ask of many, but do not thence conclude that 
 the garden was a delusion. The flowers that 
 are planted in Gethsemane rise slowly, and 
 they grow through struggle. There are dark 
 and rainy days, there are bleak and tem- 
 pestuous nights, there are seasons of pro- 
 tracted cold ' which forbid the seed spon- 
 taneously to spring. Give thy charity to the 
 struggling soul. Give to its prayer and 
 fasting thy prayer and thy fasting. Forbear 
 to use thy full liberty until thy weak brother 
 also shall be free. Thou art able to go unhurt 
 through all the world, but thy brother cannot 
 yet go with thee ; limit thyself for him, fast 
 for him. Thinkest thou that this is weak- 
 ness ? Hast thou not read of One who said, 
 not alone of His liberty but of His life, " I 
 have power to lay it down " ? It is not weak 
 to be like Christ ; it is strong — infinitely 
 strong. Thou ari thy brother's keeper, let 
 
226 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 Cain say as he will. Thine is a Divine charge 
 — the charge of God, the charo-e of ans^els, the 
 charge of being a ministering spirit sent forth 
 to the heirs of salvation. Keep that which 
 thy Father hath committed unto thee untU 
 the liberation day. 
 
 XCT. 
 
 THE STRUGGLE SUCCEEDING LIGHT. 
 
 " Buf call to remembrance the former days, in zahich, after 
 ye 7vere illuminated, ye ejidnred a great fight of afflic- 
 tions." — Heb. X. 32. 
 
 " After ye were illuminated." Surely that 
 was a strange time for the birth of conflict. 
 I thought that the cominej of lioht was the 
 signal for the end of war. I thought tliat 
 when the heart was lighted up by the Spirit 
 of Christ, there must of necessity be a termina- 
 tion to all darkness. Yes, but for that very 
 reason there must be a temporary experience 
 of pain — a pain which was foreign to the un- 
 regenerate heart. It is a glorious thing to be 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 227 
 
 illuiinnated, but its first glory lies in this, 
 that it shows me my past misery. When the 
 Divine lamp is lighted in the room of my 
 human nature, it lets me see how poorly that 
 room is furnished. For the first time in my 
 life I am pained with myself, I fight with 
 myself. Before that time I was perfectly 
 satisfied ; it was the satisfaction of ignorance. 
 I did not see my poverty ; there was no light 
 in the room. But now that the lioht has 
 come, it has taken away my false rest ; it has 
 set me at war with myself; it has made me 
 dissatisfied with my surroundings ; it has 
 caused me to cry, " wretched man that I 
 am ! who shall deliver me from this body of 
 death ? " 
 
 Thou Spirit of light, I wait for Thee. I 
 wait for Thee, knowing that when Thou 
 comest Thou shalt come with a gift in Thy 
 hand which the world would rather want — 
 the gift of pain. I know that when Thy 
 light shall rise within me the joy of the new 
 vision shall be chequered by the sight of the 
 old corruption. I know that when Thy power 
 shall dawn within me there shall be stirred 
 
228 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 within my heart the fires of a conflict to which 
 it now is stranger, for Thy new law in my 
 mind shall reveal the old law in my members. 
 But I would rather have Thy presence with 
 the pain than Thine absence without it. 
 Come into my heart with Thy Divine fire, 
 that all its base alloy may be purified. Pour 
 into my spirit Thy burning love, that I may 
 awake more and more to the sense of mine 
 own lovelessness. Breathe into my conscience 
 Thy quickening power, that I may feel more 
 and more the depth of mine own depravity. 
 Inspire into my soul the vision of Thy Divine 
 beauty, that I may learn more and more how 
 poor, how mean, how worthless is this natural 
 life of mine. I will begin the great struggle 
 when Thy light has come ; I will fight the 
 fight of faith when Thy glory is risen upon 
 me. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 220 
 
 XCII. 
 
 WHAT THE ANGELS STUDY. 
 
 "WJiich things the a7igels desire to look into." — 
 I Pet. i. 12. 
 
 What were those tbini^s which were the sub- 
 jects of study to the angels ? One would 
 think the meditations of the upper world 
 must be of a very transcendental nature, far 
 beyond our power of comprehension. In 
 truth these studies were not transcendental 
 at all; they were just the studies which 
 should be our own every day. We are told 
 in the preceding verse that there were two 
 things which the ano^els desired to look into — 
 " the sufferings of Christ " and the " glory 
 that should follow." What they wanted to 
 study beyond all other things was the road 
 by which ministration led to joy. Do you 
 wonder that this should have been a subject 
 of study to the angels ? Does it seem to you 
 a theme too mean for angels ? Have you for- 
 gotten what the angels are ? Are they not all 
 
230 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 ministering spirits, sent forth to minister unto 
 them who shall be heirs of salvation ? Why 
 should not the ministering spirits study 
 ministration, and study it in the person of 
 Him who became the servant of all ? Do we 
 not all study those things which are most 
 congruous to our nature 1 The poet is a 
 student of poetry, the artist is a disciple of 
 art. The ans^el was created to be a minister ; 
 wherefore should not he study his art ? Why 
 should not he go to the model Teacher in the 
 art of ministering ? Why should not he gaze 
 even from the heisfhts of heaven on the strait 
 
 O 
 
 gate and the narrow way which led the Son 
 of Man to the brow of Olivet ? This would 
 be sorrow, you say, and there can be no 
 sorrow in heaven. Yes ; but the thing 
 which was sorrow on earth shall in heaven 
 be turned into a joy. The selfish heart 
 finds no joy in the study of ministration 
 because it is selfish; let it become wiselfish, , 
 let it be transmuted into the light of love, • 
 let it be lifted up to the heights of heaven, 
 and that study will become its glory. 
 
 My soul, art thou prepared for the heavenly J 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 231 
 
 meditation, the theme on which angels dwell ? 
 If heaven came to thee to-night, would it 
 be to thee a joy ? Is there within thee now 
 such a love for humanity as to make the care 
 of humanity a joyous subject of eternal study ? 
 Is it with weariness and langour that thou 
 frivest the thoudit of an hour to the problem 
 of human helpfulness ? How, then, shalt thou 
 spend an eternity in which that problem 
 is the prevailing theme 1 Would not such 
 a heaven be to thee a land of inexpres- 
 sible pain"? Prepare, then, to meet thy 
 God, my soul. Thy God is love, and 
 He breathes the atmosphere of love. If 
 His atmosphere would be thy life and not 
 thy death, thou must be partaker of His 
 Spirit. Heaven is no home for the selfish ; 
 they would not call it home. Wouldst thou 
 find in heaven a home, study on earth the 
 theme of the angels. Study the wants of 
 thy brother man, study the remedies for 
 human care, study the secret of successful 
 ministration, study, above all, that Divinely- 
 human sacrifice which teaches to all the ages 
 the glory of the Cross. 
 
232 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 THE REASON FOR BURDEN-BEARING. 
 
 "J^earje otie ano flier's burdetis, for every man shall bear 
 his oivn burden.''^ — Gal. vi. 2, 5. 
 
 Is not this a strange reason given for burden- 
 bearing ? We could have understood the 
 sequence better if it had been said, " Bear ye 
 one another's burdens, for it is not right that 
 any man sboukl bear his own ; " but is it not 
 strano-e to tell us, as a reason for bearinor our 
 brother's load, that " every man shall bear his 
 own burden"? No, it is not strange; it is 
 sublimely, divinely beautiful. What is the 
 burden of which the apostle sjDcaks ? It is the 
 burden of temptation, the burden of being 
 " overtaken in a fault." What he wants to 
 say is this : Bear ye one another's temptations, 
 for ye have all temptations of your own for 
 which you equally will need charity. Thou 
 that judgest thy brother, hast thou considered 
 thyself? Hast thou considered that thou also 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 233 
 
 hast a burdon of temptation for which thy 
 brotlier will need to extend charity to thee f 
 Thine may not be the same burden as thy 
 brother's ; thou mayest be strong in the place 
 wherein he is weak. But let not this be a 
 boast to thee ; there is a place wherein thou 
 art weak and in which he is stronij. When 
 thou ascendest tlie throne of judgment, and 
 when the books of thy brother's life are open 
 to thy view, remember that thou too hast 
 books to be opened. Remember that thou 
 too hast in the recesses of thy heart sins that 
 call for pardon, thoughts that await expiation, 
 deeds that recjuire atonement, desires that cry 
 out to be purified ; remember this, and thou 
 shalt bear with thy brother, and in thine hour 
 of need thy brother shall bear with thee. 
 
 My soul, wilt thou fulfil this royal law of 
 Christ ? It is far in advance of the law of 
 Moses ; the law of Moses said, " Thou shalt 
 not hurt," but this says, " Thou shalt bear." 
 It is not enough for thee not to injure thy 
 brother ; thou must help him, thou must suc- 
 cour him, thou must do him good. Wouldst 
 thou be able to bear with his temptations? 
 
234 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 then must thou be conscious of thine own. 
 How shalt thou be conscious of thine own ? 
 Come to the Dayspring from on high. Stand 
 before the gaze of the searchiug purity, the 
 spotless holiness, the stainless sinlessuess of 
 the Son of Man. There, in the vision of His 
 humanity, thy humanity shall sink low and 
 lie abased in the dust. There, in the blaze of 
 His unblemished sunshine, thy flickering light 
 shall be extinguished, and thou shalt learn 
 thy darkness. The knowledge of thy dark- 
 ness shall be thy first true light ; it shall 
 waken thy sympathy with man. When thou 
 hast felt the pressure of thine own burdens, 
 thou shalt lift the burden of thy brother ; and 
 in lifting the burden of thy brother thine own 
 load shall fall. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 235 
 
 XCIV, 
 
 THE CAUSE CF UNCHARITABLENESS. 
 
 " Buf let every 7nan prove /lis oicm work, and then shail 
 he have rejoic'utg in himself alone, a?ui not in 
 another." — Gal. vi. 4. 
 
 Paul says that the reason why men are 
 so uncharitable is that they do not know 
 themselves, do not prove their own work ; 
 they think of tbemselves *' more highly than 
 they ought to think." When we ask the 
 apostle how it is that a frail, sinful man can 
 believe himself to be pure, he answers, It is 
 because he compares his own badness with the 
 worse badness of others. That is what Paul 
 means by rejoicing in another. I have only^ 
 a small candle of virtue, quite unfit to guard 
 my footsteps, but then my brother has only a 
 taper. I go with my candle to his taper, 
 and I weifrh that which is little in me ao-ainst 
 that which is less in him. The comparison 
 enchants me ; I come home rejoicino-. I 
 feel myself a better man than I ever felt 
 
2^6 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 before ; I magnify the light of my candle. 
 But Paul says, This is only rejoicing in 
 another. You are only comparing your bad- 
 ness with the more pronounced badness of 
 your neighbour. Why not have an absolute 
 standard 1 why not prove your own work on 
 its own merits, and have rejoicing in your- 
 self alone ? You have brought j^our candle to 
 the taper, and your heart is glad ; why not 
 bring it to the sunlight ? Why not carry it 
 out into the blaze of day and weigh it against 
 the majestic fulness of the light of heaven ? 
 If your candle could stand that ordeal, then 
 indeed you might have rejoicing in yourself 
 alone, and no longer in the mere knowledge 
 that another is worse than you. 
 
 My soul, thy light could not stand that 
 ordeal. If thou shouldst bring thy candle 
 into the blaze of day, it would have no glory 
 by reason of the all-excelling glory. Wilt 
 thou shrink from the ordeal that would prove 
 thy nothingness 1 thou art not wise in shrink- 
 ing from it. What thou needest to make thee 
 human is just the proof of thy nothingness, 
 just the vision of thyself in thy poverty and 
 
MOMENTS UN THE MOUNT. 237 
 
 in thy meaniR'SS. Go fort'i with thy candle 
 into the lioht — the true Li^ht that lio'hteth 
 every man. Go forth into the presence, into 
 the contact, of Him who is fairer than the 
 children of men, the Chief among ten thou- 
 sand, the altogether lovely. Go forth into 
 the vision of that Sun of spotless righteous- 
 ness that gathers no clouds upon His beams. 
 In the hour when thou shalt behold Him thy 
 candle shalt go out for evermore, and thou 
 shalt be in darkness to thyself. glorious 
 darkness born of higher light, grand 
 humility sprung from a loftier ideal, proud 
 dissatisfaction telling of an enlarged capacity, 
 my heart will not shrink from thee. I shall 
 cease to rejoice in myself when I have come 
 to rejoice in the perfect day. 
 
238 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 XCY.. 
 
 rilE MEMORY OF THE HEART. 
 
 " U/s mother kept all these sayings in her heart."—' 
 Luke ii. 51. 
 
 They tell us that memory is one of the in- 
 tellectual powers. I think that the strongest 
 memory is a power of the heart. There are 
 memories of the intellect which are short- 
 lived and ev'anescent ; they are like the 
 morning cloud that vanishes away. But 
 the things tbat are kept in the heart are not 
 evanescent; they last for ever. There are 
 those wdio coniplain of having short memories, 
 but how often does it spiing from want of 
 sufficient interest ? If we could transfer our 
 duties from the intellect to the heart, we 
 should rarely forget them. Love photographs 
 the impressions of the past in colours that do 
 not fade ; the things which are kept in the 
 heart are kept for ever. 
 
 My soul, cultivate the powers of thy heart. 
 The lieart lias powers as well as the under- 
 standing. Thou hast an eye of the heart 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 239 
 
 which sees deejier than the natural eye, which 
 is promised even the vision of God. Thou 
 hast an ear of the heart which hears more 
 keenly than the natural ear, which can catch 
 the Father's footsteps as He passes by. Thou 
 hast a judgment of the heart which can reason 
 more truly than the natural judgment, which 
 can penetrate the truth at a glance, and dis- 
 cern the end from the besrinnino-. Thou hast 
 
 o o 
 
 a memory of the heart which is longer than 
 the natural memory, which can preserve the 
 things of the far past in all the freslmess of 
 yesterday, and keep in morning's glow the 
 remembrance of vanished days. Give to thy 
 God this memory of the heart. Eemember 
 there is a connection between thy memory of 
 ■ God and thy hope in God. What gives the 
 Psalmist such a golden view of the future 
 that he cries, " I shall not want " ? It is just 
 his golden view of the ]Dast. He remembers 
 tliat God has already led him by the green 
 pastures and beside the still waters ; that He 
 has already restored his very soul. What, 
 after that, can be too much to expect ? W^hat 
 makes the Apostle say that in the days to 
 
240 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 come God will fieelv £rive him all tliiufjs 1 It 
 is just liis memory tliat in the days gone by 
 God had giveu him more than all things put 
 together, had not withheld from him His only 
 begotten Son. Thine is no irrational faith. 
 Thy hope in rising suns comes from the 
 memory of suns that have set ; thy prospect is 
 thy child of the retrospect ; thy future is born 
 of thy hitherto. Keep in thy heart all the 
 steps of the old way. Remember the ram in 
 the thicket that saved thee from sacrifice, 
 the road across the sea that saved thee from 
 storm, tlie manna in the wilderness that saved 
 thee from famine, the tempering of Marah 
 that saved thee from bitterness. Remember 
 the mountains that were brouoht low, the 
 doors that were opened, the crooked ways that 
 became straight, and the rough places that 
 were made plain. Remember, above all, that 
 thy yesterday encloses a Divine sacrifice for 
 thee, and thou wilt not be afraid of aught that 
 to-morrow can bring ; the prophecies of thy 
 fear shall be conquered by the memories of thy 
 heart. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 241 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 HOW TO SHINE. 
 
 " Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill 
 cantiot be hid. Neither do men light a ca?idle, and 
 put it iiJidcr a bushel. . . . Let your light so shine 
 before men that they may see your good tvorks, and 
 glorify your Father tahich is in heaven." — Matt. v. 
 14-16. 
 
 Our Lord is here teaching His disciples how to 
 shine. He tells them to avoid two extremes 
 — to beware on the one hand of afiectation, 
 and on the other hand of want of manifesta- 
 tion. He says, in speaking of the first 
 extreme, that they need not be anxious to 
 display their light, " A city that is set on an 
 hill cannot be /wcZ." He tells them that there 
 is a power within them which they could not 
 possibly conceal even if they were willing, 
 which would radiate from them in spite of 
 themselves, and reveal to the world the pre- 
 sence of something new. But, on the other 
 hand, He says that if they are to avoid 
 the extreme of a false display, tbey must 
 
242 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 equally avoid that of a false reticence. They 
 are not to light a candle and put it under a 
 bushel ; they ought to place themselves in a 
 situation advantageous for being seen, advan- 
 tao-eous for influencing; the mind of the world. 
 How are these precepts of the ]\Taster to be 
 reconciled "? How are we to shine at once 
 consciously and unconsciously — conscious of 
 our power, and yet unconscious of our great- 
 ness ? Our Lord tells us how. He says, " If 
 you would shine effectively, if you would 
 shine in such a way as to influence the minds 
 of men, the motive of your shining must be a 
 glory not your own." So shine that you may 
 glorify another — " That men may see your 
 good w^orks, and glorify your Father which is 
 in heaven." Let yours be the powder of love, 
 which is the power of dying, nay, of being 
 already dead in the life of another. Forget 
 your own glory in the glory of the Father, 
 lose your own interest in the interest of the 
 Father, merge your own will in the will of the 
 Father. Let your brightest joy be to gladden 
 Him, let your deepest grief be to pain Him, 
 let your utmost effort be to serve Him. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 243 
 
 Identify your pleasure with His profit, mea- 
 sure your loss by what men refuse to yield 
 Him. And verily in that hour you shall 
 shine — shine as the stars in the kingdom of 
 your Father. Tlie light on which you gaze 
 shall pass through you, the love which is 
 death shall be your rising, the forgetfulness 
 which has buried self shall roll away the 
 stone from the door of the sepulchre. Your 
 true self shall live when your selfishness is 
 dead, your personal being shall be powerful 
 when you have forgot to seek for a personal 
 joy. You shall shine as the planets of the 
 night fed by the light of the reposing day, 
 shine as the flowers of the field lit by the 
 torch of morning. Men sliall wonder at your 
 power ; you shall wonder most of all at your 
 own power, for yours shall be the power that 
 comes from humility, the power of souls that 
 are crucified by love. 
 
244 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT, 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 THE HEAVENLY IN THE EARTHLY. 
 
 "Buf ice have this treasure in earthen vessels." — 
 2 Cor. iv. 7. 
 
 What treasure ? The apostle tells us in the 
 preceding verse ; it is " the light of the know- 
 ledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus 
 Christ" — it is the treasure of Christian revela- 
 tion. Why should this revelation be given in 
 earthen vessels ? why, indeed, except that 
 thou to whom it is given art of the earth. 
 Would it be well for thee if thou couldst only 
 find Christ away from the earth, if the Divine 
 life could ouly be revealed to thee when thou 
 thyself wert withdrawn from earthly con- 
 cerns ? Is it not a divinely beautiful thing 
 that Christ should meet thee in the world's 
 common things, that thou shouldst find the 
 heavenly treasure even in the earthly vessels ? 
 Sometimes it has seemed to thee as if to find 
 the heavenly treasure thou wouldst need to 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 245 
 
 retire from the world, to go away into some 
 sequestered spot where tlie old pursuits and 
 duties and avocations would exist no more. 
 Yet in flyin_f!j from the earthen vessels thou 
 wouldst be flying from thy treasure. It is 
 not in thy freedom from earthly weakness, 
 earthly contact, earthly struggle, that thou art 
 nearest to the revelation of thy Lord ; no, my 
 brother, it is in tlie weakness, in the struggle, 
 m the contact with earthly things. Art thou 
 in the wilderness of temptation ? thou bearest, 
 indeed, an earthen vessel, but it holds for thee 
 a possible treasure of richest, purest gold ; 
 there, if thou wilt, thou canst meet the Spirit 
 of Him who foiled the tempter and chose the 
 narrow way. Art thou in the midst of the 
 great thoroughfare where toils the busy crowd, 
 surrounded by its sins and jostled by its 
 sorrows ? the vessel is, indeed, of earth, but 
 the treasure is golden ; there, if thou wilt, thou 
 canst meet the Spirit of Him who beheld the 
 city and wept over it. Art thou down in the 
 valley of humiliation, bearing in thy heart tlie 
 burden and the heat brought to thee by tlie 
 world's day ? thine may there be the costliest 
 
246 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 of all treasures ; for there, if thou wilt, thou 
 canst meet the Spirit of Him who yieWed up 
 in Gethsemaue His heart to a Father's will. 
 Wouldst thou have a revelation of the cross ? 
 theu must thou take up thine own cross — not 
 an imaginary cross, not a sentimental cross, 
 not a cross in the air, but the common earthen 
 cross that falls to the lot of every man. Thou 
 must take up the little petty cares of daily 
 life, the trivial annoyances that are often 
 worse to bear because they are trivial, the 
 commonplace troubles that await every step 
 of life's walk and every pressure of life's con- 
 tact. Thou must take up, above all, thine own 
 personal cross — that whicli men call tliy weak 
 point, and which thou wouldst gladly exchange 
 for the cross of thy brother ; thou must lift it 
 and bear it manfully in the strength of the 
 Son of Man. So shaft thou know Him ; 
 thine earthen vessel shall reveal to thee a 
 treasure of revelation, and that wliich seemed 
 to be the source of thine utmost weakness 
 shall lead thee to the highest goal — the light 
 of the knowledge of God. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 247 
 
 XCVIII. 
 DEA TH. 
 
 " T/ie body ivitlwut the spirit is dead." — J as. ii. 26. 
 
 What is death ? Can any man define it ? 
 Does insjDiration tell us what it is ? Yes ; in 
 the words now before us we have the simplest, 
 the shortest, the most explicit definition in the 
 world ; death is the body without the spirit. 
 It is a wonderful explanation, marked off dis- 
 tinctly from all other explanations. It is not 
 said that to die is to have the life of the body 
 extinguished ; no, the life is not extinguished, 
 it is away ; tlieie is something absent, the 
 body is ivithout the spirit. It is not said that 
 to die is to have the spirit without the body, 
 in other words, that the spirit without the 
 body is dead ; no, the spirit cannot die, whether 
 in the body or out of the body. Do not be- 
 lieve in the sleep of the soul ; the soul never 
 sleeps. Even in the watches of the night it is 
 
248 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 the body and not the soul that slumbers. The 
 sleep of death is like the sleep of life ; it 
 belongs to the weary frame, not to the living 
 spirit. 
 
 Thou who art weeping disconsolately over 
 thy dead, there are words which have need to 
 be uttered to thee, " He is not here, He is 
 risen." Thou sayest, "He is dead," yet it is 
 not so ; death applies not to the sj)irit, and 
 the spirit is the man. It is only the body 
 that can die ; it is the body without the spirit 
 that is dead. Bethink thee, wliat mean these 
 words, "Though He were dead, yet shall He 
 live" ? They mean that what thou callest death 
 is not the contradiction of life. " I know that 
 He shall rise again in the resurrection," says 
 tlie weeping Martha at the grave of Bethany ; 
 yea, but, says the Master, thou expectest too 
 little, for he that liveth and believeth in me 
 shall never die at all. Martha thought that 
 the life of the body was extinguished until 
 that day when it should be revivified ; she did 
 not know that death was itself only the flight 
 of the spirit. But thou shouldst know that, 
 thou the cliild of resurrection, the recipient 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 249 
 
 of the dawn. Wherefore art tliou hoveriufr 
 ever near the spot where the dust reposes ? 
 Wliy seekest thou the living among the dead ? 
 Wherefore dost thou measure thy nearness to 
 the departed by thy nearness to the cemetery ? 
 What communion has the cemetery with life, 
 what intercourse has the spirit with death 1 
 If the departed should meet thee, it will not 
 be in the grayeyard ; it will be in those 
 moments when thou art furthest from the 
 graveyard. Not from out the tombstone shall 
 their voices come, but through the thoughts 
 that make thee forget the tombstone ; not 
 from the symbols that are memories of death, 
 but through the hopes that tell of immortality. 
 In those moments in which heaven is opened 
 and the ladder is revealed stretchincr from earth 
 to sky ; in those hours in which thine own spirit 
 is caught up to meet its Lord in the air; in 
 those days when from the top of Nebo faith 
 has beatific glimpses of the promised land ; in 
 those seasons of summer warmth in which love 
 lifts up her voice and sings, " death, where 
 is thy sting ! grave, where is thy victory ! " 
 thou may est picture, if thou wilt, the com- 
 
250 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 muiiioij of those minibteriug spirits sent forth 
 to minister iiuto them who shall be heirs of 
 salvation. 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 " Ife that follon'etk me shall not walk in darhness, hit 
 shall have the light of life." — John viii. 12. 
 
 There is no lig-ht in the world so beautiful as 
 the light of life, nor is there any light so 
 revealinor. The lio-ht of nature does not tell 
 us half so much that we would like to know. 
 There is a deeper revelation in the feeblest 
 breath of life than in all the tremors of all 
 the golden stars. The helpless cry of infancy 
 says more to the human soul than the sun 
 coming out of his chamber to run his race of 
 strength. The light of life carries in its 
 bosom all possible revelations ; it reveals my 
 God and my immortality. All arguments for 
 my God grow pale before this certainty ; all 
 arguments for my immortality faint in the 
 splendour of immortality begun. Life is the 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 251 
 
 Jacob's ladder that reaches from earth to 
 heaven, that binds heaven to earth. The 
 tiniest spark of life is the first step of an 
 ascent whose midway is the augel, whose 
 summit is the Throne of God. The more life 
 is in me, the nearer I am to the Throne ; my 
 revelation grows not by what I get from 
 without but by what I gain from within. If 
 I had fulness of life I would have perfectness 
 of vision ; I w^ould know what God is, what 
 man is, what heaven is. Is it not written, 
 "This is life eternal to know Thee"? And 
 yet, marvellous to tell, this unspeakable glory 
 may be mine — be mine now, here, in the midst 
 of the present world : " He that foUoweth me 
 shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the 
 light of life." It is not by dying it shall 
 come to me ; it is by following — following 
 the steps of the Master through life's strait 
 gate and life's narrow way. It is by taking 
 up the cross, by lifting the burden, by bear- 
 ing the sacrifice, by doing the will, that the 
 doctrine shall be known to me. 
 
 My soul, hast thou measured the true 
 value of thy life ? It lies not in its leading 
 
252 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 but in its following. It is not what tliou 
 hast that reveals to tliee thine immortality ; 
 it is the sense of what thou hast not. The 
 measure of thee is tliine aspiration — thy 
 thirst for Christ. All things rise to their 
 own level. If thy goal were the dust, thou 
 wouldst not seek to transcend the dust ; thou 
 wouldst be satisfied. As long as thou art a 
 child of the dust thou art satisfied, and it is 
 the smallness of thy life that makes thee so. 
 But as thy life grows large it seeks more thau 
 it can get belo\v — the measure of the stature 
 of the perfect man, the fulness of Him that 
 filleth all in all. Thy glory is thy power to 
 follow; it tells thee there is something beyond 
 thee which yet is thy birthright. Thy cry for 
 God is the voice of God within thee, thy thirst 
 for tlie heavenly air is the breath of heaven 
 in thy heart. Thy conscious want is thine 
 open door, thy sense of sin is thy height of 
 Pisgah, and thy vision of the world's gather- 
 ing shadow is made by the liglit of life 
 eternal. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 253 
 
 c. 
 
 JESUS ONLY. 
 
 " And 7C'Jien they had lifted up their eyes they sarv no 
 7/ia//, save Jcsiis ofily." — Matt. xvii. 8. 
 
 It is when I have lifted np mine eyes that I 
 am impressed with the solitary majesty of the 
 Sun of Man ; it is in the elevation of my own 
 moral view that I see Him to be what He is 
 — the Kiug of kings. When my moral view 
 was not lofty I thought of Him as of other 
 men ; I would have built for Moses and Eli as 
 tabernacles by His side. But when the 
 transfiguration glory touched me I awoke to 
 His glory — His solitary, unrivalled glory. 
 I saw Him to be the chief among ten thou- 
 sand, and fairer than the children of men. 
 Moses and Eli as faded from the mountain's 
 brow, and He stood alone in peerless, un- 
 approachable splendour ; I saw no man there 
 save Jesus only. I never knew before that it 
 was so great a thing to be good, for I had not 
 
254 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 felt before the stniixule between the old life 
 and the new. It was only when, like the 
 disciples on the mount, I had fallen prostrate 
 in the struggle to be holy that I learned how 
 really heroic it was to keep the conscience 
 pure. It was from the depth of my conscious 
 abasement that I lifted up mine eyes with 
 loiiGfino- to the hills of holiness. The Son of 
 Man became to me more than all the sons of 
 men — the first, the last, the only one, the 
 altogether lovely. Tlie strength of Elias 
 paled before Him. I felt that to conquer 
 by fire was easier than to conquer by love, 
 that to shed the blood of enemies required 
 less strength than to shed one's own, and I 
 lifted up mine eyes in reverence to behold 
 Jesus only. 
 
 Son of Man, may Thine image ever be 
 thus peerless in my heart. May Thy presence 
 fill all things, so as to leave no room for any 
 other presence. May Thy glory be above 
 the heavens, so that I have no need of the 
 sun. May Thy tabernacle stretch for me over 
 all creation, so that neither Moses nor Elias 
 may build a tabernacle beside Thee. In all 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 255 
 
 the forms of nature, in all the events of life, I 
 would see Thee and Thee only. In all beauty 
 I would behold the reflex of Thy beauty, in 
 all wisdom I would see the inspiration of Thy 
 wisdom, in all love I would trace the impress 
 of Thy love. I would meet Thee in life's 
 cloud alike as in its sunshine ; I would feel 
 that in Thy presence the night were even as 
 the day. I would allow no tabernacle to be 
 built beside Thee, in honour of chance or acci- 
 dent ; my explanation of all things would be 
 " The Lord reign eth." I would feel my need 
 of Thy presence more and more. I know that 
 the nearer I come to Thee the more will I 
 experience the sensation of Tliy disci|>le that 
 I am "following afar off." But I will not 
 shrink from that experience ; it comes from 
 the light that comes from Thee. I would be 
 nearer to Thee every day, every hour, every 
 moment, for it is only in being near to Thee 
 that I shall learn how far off 1 am following 
 Thee, how infinitely thou transcendeist me. 
 When I have beheld the summit of the mount 
 I shall find none there but Thee. 
 
2S6 MOMLXTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 CI. 
 
 THE GOODWILL OF THE BUSH. 
 
 " T/ie gpodwill of Him that divelt in the bush.* 
 — Deut. xxxiii. i6. 
 
 Is not this a strange thing to phice amongst the 
 catalogue of human blessings ? We can under- 
 stand why Moses should have desired that his 
 people might be blessed by God with " the 
 precious things of heaven," with "the dew 
 and the deep that coucheth beneath," with 
 "the jDrecious fruits brought forth by the 
 sun and the precious things juit forth by the 
 moon." But why should he ask for them such 
 a blessing as this ? — the goodwill that God 
 manifested when He dwelt in the unquench- 
 able fire. Was not that aspect of Israel's God 
 an aspect of deepest terror ? did it not reveal 
 Him in those attributes which do not suo-oest 
 goodwill ? Nay, my brother, it is not so. It 
 is not only in the calm that the goodwill of 
 thy God appears, it is not only in nature's 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 257 
 
 smile tliat the blessiug of thy Father is seen. 
 The heart of thy Father beats for thee beneatli 
 every cloud as well as in every sunbeam ; the 
 blessing of thy Father is in thy night as well 
 as in thy clay. To thee, as to every man, He 
 comes betimes in a chariot of fire ; with thee, 
 as with every man, He dwells betimes in the 
 burning bush of a wilderness ; but the fire 
 chariot is His chariot, the burning bush is His 
 dwelling-place. The fire of thy God is love ; 
 its burning is the burning of love. The pains 
 of thy life are not accidents ; they are gifts 
 from thy Father's hand. The fire of the 
 burning bush is meant to set fire to thy heart. 
 It is designed to kindle thee into a glow of 
 enthusiasm, to warm thee with the love of 
 humanity. How canst thou be warmed with 
 the love of humanity if thou hast not in thee 
 that fellowship of the cross which unites soul 
 to soul. The fire that comes to thee from 
 the bush is that which consumes the bar- 
 rier between thy heart and the heart of thy 
 brother. It destroys the middle wall of parti- 
 tion between you, and makes you one. Before 
 the fire came to thee thou wert in the wilder- 
 
258 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 ness alone ; tliou hadst not felt the touch of 
 nature that makes the world kin. But the 
 fire opened the door of thy sympathy, and thy 
 spirit passed through — passed into the heart, 
 into the life of thy brother man to bear his 
 burden and to carry his cross. There was no 
 more solitude in thy wilderness ; to thee, as 
 to Moses, the command came to enter into 
 union with the afflictions of thy brethren. To 
 thee, as to Moses, the mandate was given to 
 go down into the valleys and join thyself 
 to the sorrows of the sorrowins^. It was to 
 the ear of thy sympathy that mandate was 
 addressed ; it came to thee through the fire. 
 In the sense of thine own pain thou wert 
 awakened to the universal pain ; in the bearing 
 of thine own burden thou wert warmed into 
 pity for all that bear. blessed bush, whose 
 burning in the wilderness has been my inspira- 
 tion, I thank thee for my new life, my life of 
 love. Thou that still dwellest amid the fires 
 of human suffering, and still knowest by sym- 
 pathy the sorrows of Thy people, I bless Thee 
 for Thy goodwill in the bush to me — that 
 goodwill which, by sending me the mystery of 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 259 
 
 pain, united me for evermore to the family 
 of tlie sorrowful — to the heart of the Man of 
 sorrows. 
 
 CII. 
 
 THE CARES OF GOD. 
 *^ }Je ca}-cth for you.'" — 1 Pet. v. 7. 
 
 The old world looked upon Paradise as a 
 place without care. It measured the mnjesty 
 of the gods by their exemption from the cares 
 of humanity. They dwelt on the toj) of Olym- 
 pus, aud rejoiced ;dl the day in a sunshine 
 whose cloudlessness was its carelessness — its 
 absence of interest in the problems of human 
 want, its recklessness of the fate of those who 
 pine and suffer and die. But Christ opened 
 the door of a new Paradise and let man see 
 in. He gave to the human eye a totally 
 different vision of the nature of Divine 
 majesty. He showed that the majesty of 
 God differed from the majesty of earthly 
 kings not in having less, but in having more 
 
26o MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 care. All earthly kinghood was defective by 
 its inability to lift the whole burdens of a 
 people ; the government of the King of kings 
 was supremely great because it could lift the 
 burdens of all. That which distanced God 
 from man was God's greater power of drawing 
 near to the souls of man. Man held aloof 
 from his brother man, and he had made his 
 gods in his own image ; Christ revealed a new 
 image of God, a new thought of the Divine. 
 Christ's majesty was the majesty of stooping ; 
 His cross was His crown. The sceptre which 
 He wielded over humanity was the sceptre of 
 love ; because He was chief of all, He became 
 the minister of all, because He was the ruler 
 of all life, He gave His life a ransom for 
 many. 
 
 My soul, hast thou emancipated thyself 
 from that old epicurean dream ? — the dream 
 that thy greatness lies in thine independence. 
 Is tliere nothing left in thee of that pagan 
 ideal of a heio which tells men it is manly to 
 be self-sufficient? Is there w^itliin thee still 
 somewhat of the recklessness of tliat man who 
 said : " Am I my brother's keeper ? " Thinkest 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 261 
 
 thou that it is the badge of mauliness to 
 say, " I do not care ?" It is not the badge of 
 manliness ; it is tlie mark of a child. Nothing 
 can be manliness which is not godliness, and 
 godliness is the presence of infinite care. 
 "Wouldst thou be like God ? it is well, but 
 thou wilt not reach thy goal in the manner of 
 the first Adam in the garden. Adam wanted 
 to know the difierence of o-ood and evil for the 
 pride of it ; he never thought of the care of it. 
 He did not know that it is just this knowledge 
 which constitutes the Divine burden — the long- 
 ing for man's salvation, Wouldst thou be like 
 God? then thou must cease to be self-sufficient ; 
 thou must awake to the care for other souls ; 
 thou must learn what is meant when it is 
 said, " God is love." Love is joy — infinite 
 joy, but it is not epicurean joy. It is not the 
 joy of selfishness, but the joy of self-forgetful- 
 ness. The gladness of thy God is the gladness 
 of him who bears the harvest home, the glad- 
 ness that carries in its bosom the spoils con- 
 quered from the field of sin, " This my son 
 was dead and is alive again, was lost and is 
 found." Wouldst thou reach the heiuht of 
 
262 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 the human, wouldst thou attain tlie image of 
 the Divine 1 enter thou into the joy of thy 
 Lord. 
 
 cm. 
 
 THE BLASTS OF ADVERSITY. 
 
 *^ Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow 
 upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow 
 out." — Song of Sol. iv. 16. 
 
 The spices in the gaidcn of life only flow out 
 when the winds blow. There are rich treasures 
 hidden in many souls which would remain 
 hidden for ever if the blast of adversity did 
 not disclose them. There is more power in 
 every one of us than we ourselves know. 
 There is no depth we have explored so little 
 as the depth of our own heart. There are latent 
 in our hearts vast susceptibilities, boundless 
 aspirations, intense powers of loving and of 
 working ; but we ourselves are ignorant of 
 their presence until the winds blow. We wait 
 for the breath of heaven to disci ig;ige the per- 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 263 
 
 fume tliat lies impiisonecl in our flower of 
 life ; we need the north wind and the south to 
 blow upon our garden that the spices thereof 
 may flow out. 
 
 My soul, art thou afraid of the north and 
 the south winds ? Art thou bemoaning the 
 hard Providence that has sent them into thy 
 garden ? Dost thou fear that they will destroy 
 the precious fruits of thy life ? They are sent 
 into thy garden only that they may perfect 
 these fruits. Does it seem to thee that the 
 Spirit of thy God hath departed from thee 
 because the north and the south winds have 
 begun to blow ? Nay, but the blo\^ ing of these 
 winds is itself the breath of the Spirit. Hast 
 thou considered the life of Joseph as an ideal 
 type of the Providence that develops all life ? 
 Joseph, the shepherd boy, had a beauty of his 
 own, but it was not yet the highest beauty. 
 His soul was a fair garden, a potential garden 
 of the Lord, but it was not yet His actual 
 garden. The seed was there of the future 
 fruits and flowers, but neither the fruits nor 
 the flowers had become visible. Joseph's 
 beauty had not begun to diffuse itself. His 
 
264 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 was a life of dreams — beautiful, sentimeutal 
 dreams, such as youth loves to cherish, but 
 which as loDg as they are cherished pre- 
 vent youth from being useful. And so 
 the north wind and the south wind had to 
 blow. The spices of that fair garden had to 
 be released, and the winds of adversity came 
 to release them. The dreaming boy had to be 
 awakened from his dream, had to be taught 
 that life is no dream. He had to be roused 
 into the sense of human suffering, into a 
 perception of the yoke of humanity, and he 
 learned it by his own yoke — by the iron that 
 entered into his soul. His last state was more 
 glorious than his first because it was more out- 
 flowing ; his dreams about himself passed into 
 his acts for others, and the sweet spices that 
 had been concealed regaled the surrounding air. 
 Even so, my soul, shall it be with thee when 
 the north and the south winds shall blow. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 265 
 
 CIV. 
 
 THE DISINTERESTEDNESS OF GOD'S CHOICE. 
 
 •' / /laz't' clioscn ihce in the furnace 0/ affliction." — 
 ISA. xlviii. 10. 
 
 It is not in tlie furnace of affliction that man 
 commonly chooses man. Our friendships are 
 most frequently the fruit of summer clays. 
 We cling often to the friend who is down- 
 trodden, but our first love came to him wdien 
 he was not downtrodden ; we did not choose 
 him in affliction. All tlie more marvellous, 
 therefore, is the Divine love. It is not merely 
 said that having loved us from the beginning 
 God loves us to the end, whatever may befall 
 us. This we should have expected from an 
 infinite love, it would not surprise us. But 
 here is a love which does not merely endure 
 in spite of the destitution of its object, but 
 which actually chooses its object in the 
 moment of its destitution. Here is a love 
 which comes to me not for what I have but 
 
266 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 for what I Lave not, comes to me when I am 
 wretched and miserable, aud poor and blind 
 and helpless, comes to me when I have nothing 
 to give and nothing to attract. It seeks me 
 in my poverty that it may dower me with its 
 wealth, it seeks me in my loneliness that it 
 may glad me with its fellowship, it seeks me 
 in my weariness that it may inspire me with 
 its strength, it seeks me in my deformity that 
 it may crown me with its beauty ; it chooses 
 me in my furnace of affliction. 
 
 Thou Divine Love that passest the power 
 of all human love to comprehend Thee, what 
 shall I render unto Thee for Thine unspeak- 
 able gift— the gift of Thyself? How shall I 
 sufficiently bless Thee that Thou hast bent so 
 low as to take cognisance of my lowliness. 
 How shall I adequately praise Thee that Thou 
 hast descended so deep as to come into con- 
 tact with the depth of my meanness. The 
 most infinite thinij: about Thee to me is the 
 infiniteness of Thy stooping ; it is in Thy 
 boundless power to bend that Thou surpassest 
 the loves of men. I accej^t Thy glorious offer 
 of union with my nothingness. I come to 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 267 
 
 Thee just as I am, as Thou hast chosen me 1 
 seek Thee without waiting for the ornaments of 
 life, knowino- that when Thou shalt receive me 
 Thou shalt deck me witli the gems of heaven 
 and adorn me with the jewels of Thy crown. 
 Out of the furnace of my affliction I fly to 
 Thee. 
 
 cv. 
 
 ISAAC. 
 
 " And Isaac ivent out to lueditate hi the field at the 
 eventide.'''' — Gen. xxiv. 63. 
 
 What a contrast there is between the life of 
 Abraham and the life of Isaac ! The one is all 
 storm, the other is all calm. In the life of 
 Abraham we stand on the shore of a mighty 
 sea, whose bosom is ever ruffled, whose waves 
 are ever rolling ; in the life of Isaac we stand 
 by the rippling of a gentle stream, where there 
 are no storms to ruffle and no waves to roll. 
 Abraham is the man of action, and he is in- 
 creasingly the man of action ; his work grows 
 
26S MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 more pressing as lie grows old. But Isaac, 
 even from manhood's dawn, is the man of 
 meditation. His is one of those introverted 
 lives of w^hich there is little to tell. There is 
 little to tell, not because the life is uneventful, 
 but because the events are not seen ; they lie 
 not on the surface of history, they are trans- 
 acted in the depths of the heart. Think not 
 that Isaac's calm was the calm of inanity ; it 
 was the calm of conquered storm. Canst thou 
 forget that if his was a placid manhood, it 
 was because his had been a tempestuous youth. 
 Some men get their cross in middle life, amid 
 the burden and heat of the day ; Isaac got his 
 cross in the morning. The fiery trial which 
 one day comes to all of us, came to him on 
 the threshold of life's door, and at the very 
 moment when the bow of promise was seen in 
 the sky, the blackness of darkness threatened 
 to extinguish it for ever. AVas not the rest of 
 his later years well earned ? Was it not fitting 
 that he who at morning's dawn had climbed 
 the sacrificial heights of Moriah, should be 
 permitted, even in the blaze of noonday, to 
 have something of the evening calm ? 
 
MOME\TS OX THE MOUNT. 269 
 
 jMv soul, God has a time for thee to work 
 and a time for thee to meditate. Would it 
 not be well for thee to come up betimes into 
 the secret place and rest awhile ? The burden 
 and heat of the day are hard to bear, and im- 
 possible to bear without the strength of the 
 Spirit. Thinkest thou that the meditation of 
 Isaac is a disqualifying for the work of Abra- 
 ham ? nay, it is a preparation for that work. 
 Thou art called to go down into the valley, to 
 lift the burdens of the laden, and to help the 
 toil of the labouring. Would it not be well 
 for thee to go up first into the mount of 
 meditation, and get transfigured there ? Would 
 it not help thy coming work in the valley, if 
 thou wert first to ascend into the elevation 
 of aspiring prayer, where thou wouldst catch 
 something of the radiance of thy Lord, and 
 receive something of His glistening glory ? 
 Thy radiance on the mountain would not im- 
 pede thy work in the valley ; it w^ould inspire 
 it, it would strengthen it, it would ennoble it. 
 Thou wouldst carry down with thee such a 
 glittering of the transfiguration light, that the 
 men at the foot of the mountain would take 
 
2-jo MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 knowledo-e that thou haclst been with Jesus. 
 There would go out from thee a marvellous 
 virtue, a miraculous power, a supernatural 
 energy, which everywhere would arrest and 
 transform. Thou wouldst be animated by a 
 new enthusiasm, impelled by a new force, 
 driven on irresistibly by the impulse of light 
 within. Arise, then, into thy mountain, my 
 soul. Take the wings of the morning, and 
 ascend to meet thy Lord in the air. Enter 
 for one blessed hour into the secret of His 
 pa^dlion, and He will send thee a flash of 
 light that will keep thee all the day. Thy 
 work for man shall be glorious when thou hast 
 meditated on the mount of God. 
 
 cvi. 
 
 CHRISTIAN PROMOTION. 
 
 ^'' Fiieiid, go zip higher^ — Luke xiv. lo. 
 
 There are some of us who never get iieyond 
 the first step of Jacob's ladder. In taking 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 271 
 
 that step we make the transition from deatli 
 into life ; but we are content with mere life — 
 the life of an infant's breath. We are always 
 talkinor of what we have been saved from in 
 
 O 
 
 the 2^cist, we are always exulting in our libera- 
 tion from the state which lies behind us. It 
 is indeed beautiful to be grateful for the breatb 
 of existence, but have we considered what the 
 breath of existence means ? It means the 
 introduction to boundless possibilities. Art 
 thou exulting that thou hast placed thy foot 
 on the first step of the ascending ladder ? It 
 is well, but let not this be thy resting-place. 
 Eemember it is after all only the first step, 
 and it is the introduction to all the others. 
 Thou standest between two worlds ; below 
 thee is the world of infinite death, above thee 
 is the world of infinite life. It is good to look 
 back upon the world of infinite death, to 
 remember the depth out of which thou weit 
 taken. But it is not good to be limited to 
 that view. Thou art only on the first step, 
 and tliere are myriads to come. Above thee 
 there are heights of infinite progress waitino- 
 to be scaled, and from the summit of the 
 
272 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 sacred ladder a Divine voice descends into 
 tliiiie ear, "Friend, come up higher." ^ Thou 
 hast been dwelling with rapture on the thought 
 of thy pardon, and truly it is a thought worthy 
 of thy rapture. But there are greater raptures 
 still before thee which thou must not neo:lect. 
 AVilt thou be satisfied with mere pardon ? If 
 so, thine aspiration is smaller than it needs 
 to be. Thou art a child of God, a son of the 
 Highest, and thou hast a right to boundless 
 expectations. Thou hast the promise of infini- 
 tude ; wilt thou be satisfied with the finite ? 
 It is not enousfh for thee that God should 
 pardon thee ; He must fill thee with His own 
 life. It is not enoucrh for thee that thou 
 shouldst escape the fires of heU ; thou must 
 aspire to enter into the blaze of the burning 
 purity. It is not enough for thee that there 
 is no longer any condemnation ; thou must 
 press towards the mark of a prize that is 
 still beyond thee — the union and communion 
 with God. Thou thinkest too meanly of thy 
 destiny. Thou hast been freed from the fear 
 of the famine in the far country, l)ut thou art 
 still content to be only a hired servant in thy 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 273 
 
 Father's house. Thou must yet arise and go 
 to thy Father and ask Him for something 
 more. There are gifts unspeakable which 
 still await thee — the ring, and the robe, 
 and the universal joy, for the voice of thy 
 Father is calliug unto thee, " Friend, come 
 up higher." 
 
 CYII. 
 
 RELIGIOUS ATTRACTIVENESS. 
 
 " Zef the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us." 
 — Ps. xc. 17. 
 
 There is a moral power in beauty ; it elevates 
 the heart of the man that sees it. It is not 
 enough that a man should display the laiv of 
 holiness ; he must display the beauty of holi- 
 ness. There are some whose reliofiou has 
 every quality but one — attractiveness. They 
 are animated by the siucerest motives, they 
 are ruled by the tenderest conscience, they are 
 influenced by the purest desires, yet their reli- 
 
274 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 gion is witlial a weapon in the hand, not a 
 magnet in the heart ; it drives, but it does not 
 draw. They are impressed above all things 
 with the power of the Lord, and they would 
 like to display His power ; they do not see 
 that the uppermost garment of the religious 
 life must be the beauty of the Lord. They 
 have not measured the force of these words, 
 "I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draiv 
 all men unto me." The highest power of the 
 cross is its attractiveness, its ability to allure, 
 its beauty. Do not think that the glory of 
 religion lies in the number of things it can 
 re-pel; it lies in the number of things it can 
 attract. The beauty of the Lord is an univer- 
 sally diffused beauty ; there is no sphere which 
 it refuses to animate. Hast thou not seen it 
 in the world of nature how it pervades alike 
 the highest and the lowliest ? Thou beholdest 
 it on the mountain-tops, and thou meetest it 
 in the valleys. Thou seest it in the bespangled 
 heavens, and thou tracest it in the colours of 
 the earth. Thou findest it lighting up the 
 wilderness and the solitary place, and thou 
 discoverest it gilding the streets where pours 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 275 
 
 the busy crowd, illumitiating dusky lane and 
 shady alley, kindling into a glow the common 
 haunts of toilworn men. Truly it is beauti- 
 fully said of the light of God's outward 
 beauty, "There is nothing hid from tlie 
 heat tliereof." 
 
 Thou wlio art tlie source of beauty, let 
 Thy beauty overshadow my soul. Let Thy 
 beauty be upon me as an outermost robe ; 
 above all, on tlie top of all, may I put on 
 Thy cliarity. Help me to wear unsoiled 
 everywhere the garment of Thy righteous- 
 ness. Where Thou goest may I be able to go, 
 where Thou dwellest may I be fit to dwell. 
 May I go with Thee to the marriage feast 
 without contamination ; may I enter with 
 Thee into the house of mourning without 
 despair. May I stand with Thee in the 
 streets of the great city where men strive 
 and toil ; may I commune with Thee in the 
 solitary fields, \\here the lilies toil not nor 
 s[)in. Jn the power of Thy Divine beauty 
 may I be able to lift up things which are 
 not beautiful ; give me Thy strength to touch 
 what the world could not touch without 
 
276 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 stain. Help me to come into un harmed con- 
 tact with that whicli would dim the impure 
 heart. Help me to take by the hand the 
 lepers, the demoniacs, the outcasts of the 
 world. Help me to give Thy beauty to 
 those that sit in ashes. Thy joy to those that 
 are in mourning. Thy garment of praise to 
 those that have the spirit of heaviness. Then 
 shall even the Gentiles come to Thy light, 
 and the powers of the world to the bright- 
 ness of Thy rising. They shall see the King 
 no longer in His kingliness alone but in His 
 beauty. They were repelled by the fires of 
 Sinai, but they shall be attracted by the 
 lovelit peaks of Olivet ; they have fled from 
 that gate of the house of God which is 
 guarded by the flaming sword, but they shall 
 return to enter it again by the gate of the 
 temple called Beautiful. 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 277 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 SPIRITUAL FEARLESSNESS. 
 
 ''^ For then shalt thou have thy delight in the Almighty^ 
 and shalt lift up tliy face u?ito God." — Job xxii. 26. 
 
 To lift up tlie face unto God is a beautiful 
 imaga ; it is the symbol of perfect confidence. 
 We say in common language, when we \\ ish to 
 describe a man of bad conscience, that he can- 
 not look us in the face. Such is in substance 
 tli5 thought here revealed. It is suggested 
 that the bad conscience keeps the head down- 
 ward towards the earth, prevents the man 
 from gazing up even in his acts of prayer into 
 the face of his Father. There is somethins^ sub- 
 ILmely beautiful in these words of the ]\1 aster 
 where He says of little children, " Their 
 angels do always behold t[\Q,f(ice of my Father 
 which is in heaven." It is the expression of 
 fearless confidence. In Eastern lands it was 
 only the few who were allou ed to stand in the 
 
278 MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 presence of the king, to gaze into the face of 
 royalty. In the presence of the King of kings 
 it is the lit Lie children that stand, it is the 
 spirit of childhood that lifts up its face to God. 
 There is no crouching, there is no timidity, 
 there is no covering of the eyes in an attitude 
 of servile fear ; there is that beautiful boldness 
 before the throne of the Heavenly grace which 
 the childlike heart alone can feel ; there is the 
 lifting up of the eyes to God. 
 
 ]\Iy soul, hast thou reached this glorious 
 attitude of the childlike heart ? hast thou 
 attained to that perfect love which casteth out 
 fear ? Has thy religion become to thee any- 
 thing more than a task, an ordeal, a daily and 
 nightly penance which must somehow be got 
 through, and which thou beginnest for the 
 sake of getting through ? Hast thou never 
 risen from thine ashes in thy moments of 
 prayer ? have thy prayers never taken any form 
 but that of abject servihty ? Hast thou never 
 yet known what is meant by the joy of com- 
 munion, the rapture of fellowship with God ? 
 Thou know est what it is to be in awe of the 
 
MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 279 
 
 Almiglity, but to have tliy delirjJit in tlie 
 Almighty — hast thou realised that? Yet it 
 is that and nothing less than that that is thy 
 birthright ; for this cause wast thou born, and 
 to this end earnest thou into the world, that 
 thou mightst have communion with thy God. 
 From thee there is desired no servile homage, 
 only that homage of the heart whose name is 
 love and whose nature is perfect freedom. It 
 is thy heart and not thy life which thy Father 
 would lead captive. He would enchain thee 
 by the most golden of all chains — devotion to 
 Himself; He would sway thee by the softest of 
 all sceptres — the power of His love. AVhy art 
 thou so fearful, thou of little faith ? Is it 
 thy poverty that makes thee tremble ? sayest 
 thou that thou hnst nothing of thine own to 
 give 1 Neither have the waters of that sea 
 when they look up by night at the form of 
 the over-hanging moon ; they have nothing 
 of their own to give her, but they restore 
 to her again the image she imprinted on 
 their bosom. So shall it be with thee. Thy 
 Father overhangs thee, broods over thee, 
 
28'o MOMENTS ON THE MOUNT. 
 
 calls to thee in a thousand voices, "Let 
 there be light ; " \vhen thou shalt lift up 
 thy face to Him, He shall see His image in 
 thy bosom. 
 
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