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SEVEN 
 
 STORMY SUNDAYS. 
 
 a The sun shall be no more thy light by day ; neither for brightness shall 
 the moon give light unto thee ; but the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, 
 and thy God, thy glory." — Isaiah lx. 19. 
 
 THIRD EDITION. 
 ^> V 0" THE 
 
 :vb.-rsit 
 
 BOSTON: 
 AMERICAN UNITARIAN ASSOCIATION; 
 
 WALKER, FULLER, AND COMPANY. 
 NEW YORK: JAMES MILLER. 
 
 1866. 
 

 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, by 
 THE AMERICAN UNITARIAN ASSOCIATION, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 University Press, Cambridge : 
 Printed by Welch, Bigelow, and Company. 
 
i 
 
 <T~ 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 I have to thank two of my friends for the use 
 of two sermons which I have heard them preach, 
 and which would not be otherwise published. I 
 must express my acknowledgments, too, for two 
 sermons by Rev. W. B. 0. Peabody, never before 
 printed. I believe the sermons of Tholuck and 
 Bretschneider have not been translated before. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 PAGK 
 THE RHODODENDRONS 1 
 
 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 THE SURE WALL 49 
 
 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 THE DAILY BREAD 99 
 
 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 FORGIVENESS .145 
 
 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 THE CHILDREN 189 
 
 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 THE BIBLE 241 
 
 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 pain .327 
 
A STORMY SUNDAY 
 
 THE RHODODENDRONS. 
 
 " Praise God, for wondering eyes his world of love to see ! 
 Praise God, for thought which wanders always free ! 
 Praise God, for faith, which bends a willing knee, 
 Draws me to him, the while he smiles on me." 
 
A STORMY SUNDAY 
 
 THE RHODODENDRONS. 
 
 " What went ye out into the wilderness to see ? A reed shaken with the 
 wind ? But what went ye out for to see ? A prophet ? Yea, I say unto you, 
 and more than a prophet." 
 
 What went ye out to see 
 
 O'er the rude sandy lea, 
 Where stately Jordan flows by many a palm, 
 
 Or where Gennesaret's wave 
 
 Delights the flowers to lave 
 That o'er her western slope breathe airs of balm ? 
 
 All through the summer night 
 
 Those blossoms red and bright 
 Spread their soft breasts, unheeding, to the breeze, 
 
 Like hermits watching still 
 
 Around the sacred hill, 
 Where erst our Saviour watched upon his knees. 
 
 The Paschal moon above 
 Seems like a saint to rove, 
 Left shining in the world with Christ alone ; 
 
I 
 
 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 Below, the lake's still face 
 Sleeps sweetly in the embrace 
 Of mountains terraced high with mossy stone. 
 
 Here may we sit and dream 
 
 Over the heavenly theme, 
 Till to our soul the former days return ; 
 
 Till on the grassy bed, 
 
 Where thousands once he fed, 
 The world's incarnate Maker we discern. 
 
 O cross no more the main, 
 
 Wandering so wild and vain, 
 To count the reeds that tremble in the wind, 
 
 On listless dalliance bound, 
 
 Like children gazing round, 
 Who on God's works no seal of Godhead find. 
 
 Bask not in courtly bower, 
 
 Or sun-bright hall of power ; 
 Pass Babel quick, and seek the Holy Land : 
 
 From robes of Tyrian dye 
 
 Turn with undazzled eye 
 To Bethlehem's glade or Carmel's haunted strand. 
 
 Or choose thee out a cell 
 
 In Kedron's storied dell, 
 Beside the springs of Love, that never die ; 
 
 Among the olives kneel, 
 
 The chill night-blast to feel, 
 And watch the moon that saw thy Master's agony. 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 5 
 
 Then rise at dawn of day, 
 
 And wind thy thoughtful way, 
 Where rested once the temple's stately shade, 
 
 With due feet tracing round 
 
 The city's northern bound, 
 To th' other holy garden, where the Lord was laid. 
 
 Who thus alternate see 
 
 His death and victory, 
 Rising and falling as on angel wings, 
 
 They, while they seem to roam, 
 
 Draw daily nearer home, — 
 Their heart untravelled still adores the King of kings. 
 
 Or, if at home they stay, 
 
 Yet are they, day by day, 
 In spirit journeying through the glorious land, 
 
 Not for light Fancy's reed, 
 
 Nor Honor's purple meed, 
 Nor gifted prophet's lore, nor Science' wondrous wand. 
 
 But more than prophet, more 
 
 Than angels can adore 
 With face unveiled, is He they go to seek ; 
 
 Blessed be God, whose grace 
 
 Shows Him in every place 
 To homeliest hearts of pilgrims pure and meek, 
 
 These last words, taken from Keble's lesson for 
 the day, I must repeat to myself, as my lesson. 
 It is a stormy Sunday, and I must not venture 
 
6 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 out to church. I cannot enter into the blessing 
 that is promised to the two or three that are 
 gathered together. I must devote myself to a 
 solitary worship, and these lines may help to pre- 
 pare me for it. What a contrast are the scenes 
 that they picture to the scene that shuts me in ! 
 A cold rain patters against the window-panes, and 
 a sharp blast of wind hurries over the hills. How 
 different the cold New England landscape from 
 that spot 
 
 " Where stately Jordan flows by many a palm, 
 Or where Gennesaret's wave 
 Delights the flowers to lave 
 That o'er her western slope breathe airs of balm " J 
 
 I look out upon broad, brown hills, out of 
 which the summer green has died away, and the 
 cold mist-clouds shut up all warmth from the 
 sky. 
 
 " The blossoms red and bright " in these lines 
 allude to the rhododendrons, which, they say, cov- 
 er the water's edge of the Lake of Gennesaret. 
 And the word rhododendron brings back to me 
 our own summer season, the gay flowers that 
 adorn its quiet nooks, and with them those that 
 light up the wayside. I forget a moment my win- 
 ter-imprisoning room, and feel again the breath 
 of summer -air, and see again the summer rhodo- 
 dendrons, the rare flowers that came from their 
 hidden homes. Not only has this picture carried 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 7 
 
 me to the side of the river Jordan, to the Holy 
 Land, but back again to my own home in the 
 summer-time. 
 
 And if my thoughts have power to paint around 
 me new scenery, they may have force to bring 
 into my silent room the memory and help of 
 friends to commune with me in my solitary hour. 
 I must collect around me the writings of spiritual 
 men and women, who from their written words 
 can preach to me and lead me to prayer. With 
 their help I may summon to my presence the 
 presence of Him who is ever with us, and yet 
 whom we seldom know how to approach fitly. 
 He to whom this day is consecrated will draw 
 near to me in my solitude, and help me to make 
 it sacred to Him. 
 
 To-day I have no active duties to perform. I 
 am shut out from visiting the poor or the friend- 
 less. George has left for church, and will be 
 gone all day. I am alone in the house, and am 
 not even called upon for the gift of a kind word. 
 I am not even obliged to appear kind and gen- 
 tle. If I have any evil thoughts, there is no one 
 here for me to express them to. I have even no 
 household duties to perform. The only duty 
 that remains to me is to take care of myself, to 
 watch over my own thoughts. I have come to 
 one of the quiet places in the activity of life. A 
 busy week lies before me, and now I am allowed 
 
8 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 a few hours of concentration to prepare myself 
 for it. The outer warfare of life has ceased for 
 a while ; there is a short truce ; I may look back 
 upon the battle-field, and bury my dead. I may 
 summon up my army, and fit the survivors for 
 the renewed contest. Yes, there are dead reso- 
 lutions to weep over, new hopes to encourage. 
 
 What, indeed, are the duties of such an hour ? 
 and what are its dangers ? 
 
 There is danger that on such a day I may con- 
 centrate into a few hours all that " conviction of 
 sin " that should serve to restrain me through 
 the duties of the week. Standing alone in the 
 presence of my own conscience, I may bow my- 
 self so heavily with compunction, that I shall find 
 a reaction in the busy days that are to follow. 
 "What matter is it, that I do weep over the mis- 
 deeds of the last week, reproach the idle thoughts, 
 and bring my soul down on its knees to-day in 
 these quiet hours, — how will all this help me, if 
 with to-morrow's distractions there returns again 
 the old indolence, if the idle thoughts come back 
 again, and the heartlessness, and the sharp words 
 ready to wound others ? Now, in the presence of 
 myself alone and God, I am willing to confess all 
 these evil tendencies of my soul ; but will not the 
 old vanity return to-morrow ? When I am in 
 the presence of others, I shall forget my own lit- 
 tleness, and wish to appear greater than my 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 9 
 
 stature. To-day, when I am alone, I can think 
 with kindness of others, can even pityingly and 
 shrinkingly draw a veil over their faults ; I can 
 forget how it is that these faults clash with mine, 
 and find for them the excuses that I am so ready 
 to spread over my own. But to-morrow the old 
 selfishness will return ; I shall give back an an- 
 gry word for a supposed insinuation, wound a 
 sensitive heart with a thoughtless act, neglect to 
 bring the cup of cold water to the suffering, fall 
 down quietly into the current of my own daily 
 duties, not looking to either shore, to give or 
 gather help ! These words I write are a confes- 
 sion of that weakness that will again paralyze me 
 to-morrow. I wish that I might preserve some 
 Of this humility when I come out from this silent 
 chapel of to-day. 
 
 This must be the sin of those who live in con- 
 vents, who pour out their souls in repentance 
 in their quiet cloisters, and then have no oppor- 
 tunity to prove its healthiness by the good works 
 that follow. This is the reason that the worship 
 in the church should be more availing than the 
 lonely worship at home. There we kneel side 
 by side with others, and however in our solemn 
 thoughts we strive to shut out all that is dis- 
 tracting, still we are conscious that others are 
 kneeling by our side in spirit, or perhaps, like 
 us, waiting for the entrance of the spirit of de- 
 
10 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 votion into the soul. New ditties are suggested 
 to us by the sight of others. In praying for our 
 own needs, we think of the needs of those around 
 us. The congregation is preaching to us ; some 
 speak from their want, some from their excess. 
 Our solitary longing we see reflected in others ; 
 we are led to resolve, not merely to work out our 
 own salvation, but, in the working week that is 
 to come, to help to bear the burdens of others. 
 
 Then the words of the preacher waken us to 
 the sight of some forgotten sin. We are not, as 
 at home, reading some selected sermon, that may 
 preach to us some favorite duty, but in the 
 church a man rises who may suddenly rouse us 
 to a new and unthought of field of action, that 
 before never had the power to charm us, but 
 which we now see truly demands us. 
 
 But in that church I am not. Neither audi- 
 ence nor minister preaches to me. No sermon 
 against vanity comes from nodding plume or 
 shining velvet, — no quickening to charity from 
 the sight of the poor, worn garment. I hear no 
 freshly spoken word of preacher to start me 
 from my indolence. With the temptation to 
 distraction and the desire to criticise others, I 
 lose, too, the influence that comes from the unit- 
 ing of many in one great worship, I lose the 
 wakening inspiration from the sound of another's 
 voice. I can read printed sermons, the choicest 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 11 
 
 that ever were written, but my eye may wander 
 heedlessly over the page : it is harder to slmt out 
 from the mind the spoken word. In the church, 
 the tones of an earnest preacher rouse even a 
 slumbering spirit. All alone here perhaps I may 
 let my soul sleep. Instead of conviction of sin, 
 I may sink into complacency. 
 
 For a different danger of this solitary worship 
 is, that I may grow too satisfied with myself. 
 Without a rousing word from without me, I may 
 even flatter myself on my. own humility ! This 
 bending towards God, this consciousness of my 
 penitence, of my momentary freedom from sin, 
 may make mo pleased with myself, with my own 
 progress. It is so easy to say over the beautiful 
 words of some hymn of devotion, it is so easy to 
 call myself a sinner, when no being but God can 
 hear the utterance, when I am scarcely able to 
 realize that even he is conscious of it. In my 
 repose, while to be pure and noble and self-sac- 
 rificing seems so attractive, so lovely, I do not 
 feel the burden of my own sin. It lies by my 
 side, because I myself am not in action. Alas ! 
 if vanity and self-conceit steal upon me now, when 
 other temptation seems far away, how will it be 
 with me when my honesty in the presence of 
 others is tempted ? Can I be true then, firm 
 and consistent, unmoved by the atmosphere into 
 which I pass, pure and honest, at the same time 
 
12 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 patient and yielding ? This day may become a 
 day of selfish thought, rather than of self-renun- 
 ciation, filled with idle fancies rather than prayer- 
 fed resolutions. I do not wish to look, either, 
 upon such a day as one of those long, dreary, 
 stormy Sundays that are sometimes complained 
 of. I should like to make it a true day of rest 
 and strengthening to my soul. 
 
 For this reason I write down a record of my 
 thoughts, that at some future stormy Sunday I 
 may examine them, and find if they were health- 
 ful and life-giving, if they have brought to me 
 any of that fervor that the walk to church on a 
 sunshiny Sunday brings, and the meeting with 
 the preacher and congregation of worshippers. 
 
 I will write down, too, the words of others, 
 their prayers which I repeat too with my lips. 
 This will serve for my Sunday service to-day, 
 and perhaps for some future day. I begin with 
 some solemn words of Thomas a Kempis. 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 13 
 
 OF THE EXERCISES OF A GOOD RELIGIOUS PERSON. 
 
 The life of a good religious person ought to be 
 adorned with all virtues ; that he may inwardly 
 be such as outwardly he seemeth to men. 
 
 And with reason there ought to be much more 
 within than is perceived without. For God be- 
 holdeth us ; whom we are bound most highly to 
 reverence wheresoever we are, and to walk in 
 purity like angels in his sight. 
 
 Daily ought we to renew our purposes, and to 
 stir up ourselves to greater fervor, as though this 
 were the first day of our conversion ; and to say, 
 "Help me, my God, in this my good purpose, 
 and in thy holy service ; and grant that I may 
 now this day begin perfectly; for that which I 
 have done hitherto is nothing.'' 
 
 According to our purpose shall be the success 
 of our spiritual profiting ; and much diligence is 
 necessary to him that will profit much. 
 
 . And if he that firmly purposeth often faileth, 
 what shall he do that seldom purposeth anything, 
 or with little resolvedness ? * 
 
 It may fall out sundry ways that we leave off 
 our purpose ; yet the light omission of spiritual 
 exercises seldom passes without loss to our souls. 
 
 The purpose of just men depends, not upon 
 their own wisdom, but upon God's grace ; on 
 2 
 
14 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 whom they always rely for whatsoever they take 
 in hand. 
 
 For man proposes, but God disposes ; neither 
 is the way of man in himself. 
 
 If an accustomed exercise be sometimes omitted, 
 either for some act of piety or profit to my broth- 
 er, it may easily afterward be recovered again. 
 
 But if out of a slothful mind, or out of care- 
 lessness, we lightly forsake the same, it is a great 
 offence against God, and will be found to be 
 prejudicial to ourselves. Let us do the best we 
 can ; we shall still too easily fail in many things. 
 
 Yet must we always purpose some certain 
 course, and especially against those failings which 
 do most of all molest us. 
 
 We must diligently search into and set in 
 order both the outward and the inward man, 
 because both of them are of importance to our 
 progress in godliness. 
 
 If thou canst not continually recollect thyself, 
 yet do it sometimes ; at the least once a day, 
 namely, in the morning or at night. 
 
 In the morning fix thy good purpose ; and at 
 night examine thyself, — what thou hast done, 
 how thou hast behaved thyself in word, deed, and 
 thought; for in these perhaps thou hast often- 
 times offended both God and thy neighbor. 
 
 Gird up thy loins like a man against the vile 
 assaults of the devil ; bridle thy riotous appetite, 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 15 
 
 and thou shalt be the better able to keep under all 
 the unruly motions of the flesh. 
 
 Never be entirely idle ; but either be reading, 
 or writing, or praying, or meditating, or endeav- 
 oring something for the public good. 
 
 About the time of the chief festivals, good ex- 
 ercises are to be renewed, and the prayers of holy 
 men more fervently to be implored. 
 
 From festival to festival we should make some 
 good purpose, as though we were then to depart 
 out of this world and to come to the everlasting 
 feast in heaven. 
 
 Therefore ought we carefully to prepare our- 
 selves at holy times, and to live more devoutly, 
 and to keep more exactly all things that we are 
 to observe, as though we were shortly at God's 
 hands to receive the reward of our. labors. 
 
 But if it be deferred, let us think with our- 
 selves that we are not sufficiently prepared, and 
 unworthy yet of so great glory which shall be 
 revealed in us in due time ; and let us endeavor 
 to prepare ourselves better for our departure. 
 
 " Blessed is that servant," saith the Evangelist 
 St. Luke, " whom his Lord when he cometh shall 
 find watching ; verily I say unto you, he shall 
 make him ruler over all his goods." 
 
16 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 PRAYER FOR SOLITUDE. 
 
 God, who at this moment art present to the 
 congregation kneeling before thee, and to the 
 silent worshipper in solitude, make me conscious 
 of thy presence, that so I may bow my soul before 
 thee. Thou art greater than any human thought 
 can conceive of: with thy almighty power, help 
 me to reach unto thee ! Thou art more mer- 
 ciful than any earthly friend : forgive my many 
 faults, and help me to rest upon thee ! Thou 
 knowest my past life, as well as what is to come : 
 help me to tread in the path that lies before me ! 
 Thou hast surrounded me with blessings : help 
 me to be grateful for them to thee ! Thou hast 
 appeared to me in sorrow : help me to remember 
 that it was in the sorrowful moment I saw thee ! 
 I am too blind to see thy hand in all the changes 
 of my life : wilt thou then help me to faith, that 
 I may acknowledge thee ! 
 
 1 look back upon many hours of happiness 
 when I was forgetful of thy presence, upon many 
 of trial when my heart knew not how to turn to- 
 wards thee. In the hours that are to come, let 
 me be more conscious of thy presence, so that 
 days and nights of sorrow or of joy need only 
 speak to me of thee. Give me strength in my 
 lonely moments, give me courage in the hour of 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 17 
 
 temptation. Help me to help others, that in what- 
 ever I do I may act with thy inspiration alone. 
 
 May the good resolutions that I make this day 
 grow stronger and become more fruitful as the 
 days pass by. And when the hours of distraction 
 come, let my heart never be distracted from thee. 
 May I learn from the life and the words of Christ 
 how I may find thee, that from these I may 
 know how, and may venture to call thee Father, 
 who art the creator and sustainer of all. 
 
 Help thou my unbelief, since I know not how 
 to rise up to so great a good, and, with thy spirit 
 helping me, may I learn what it is to be a child 
 of God ; which I would ask in the name and with 
 the help of the Saviour. 
 
 . 2* 
 
18 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 FROM THE NEW TESTAMENT. 
 
 Matt. vi. 
 
 No man can serve two masters ; for either he 
 will hate the one and love the other, or else he 
 will hold to the one and despise the other. Ye 
 cannot serve God and Mammon. 
 
 Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for 
 your life, what ye shall eat or what ye shall 
 drink ; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put 
 on. Is not the life more than meat, and the 
 body than raiment ? 
 
 Behold the fowls of the air ; for they sow not, 
 neither do they reap, nor gather into barns ; yet 
 your Heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not 
 much better than they ? 
 
 Which of you by taking thought can add one 
 cubit unto his stature ? 
 
 And why take ye thought for raiment ? Con- 
 sider the lilies of the field, how they grow ; they 
 toil not, neither do they spin. And yet I say un- 
 to you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not 
 arrayed like one of these. 
 
 Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the 
 field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into 
 the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, . 
 ye of little faith ? 
 
 Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 19 
 
 we eat ? or, What shall we drink ? or, Where- 
 withal shall we be clothed ? 
 
 (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek ;) 
 for your Heavenly Father knoweth that ye have 
 need of all these things. 
 
 But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and 
 his righteousness, and all these things shall be 
 added unto you. 
 
 Take, therefore, no thought for the morrow ; 
 for the morrow shall take thought for the things 
 of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil 
 thereof. 
 
20 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 A HYMN.* 
 
 help us, Lord ! each hour of need 
 
 Thy heavenly succor give ; 
 Help us in thought and word and deed, 
 
 Each hour on earth we live. 
 
 O help us when our spirits bleed, 
 
 With contrite anguish tore ! 
 And when our hearts are cold and dead, 
 
 O help us, Lord, the more ! 
 
 O help us, through the prayer of faith, 
 
 More firmly to believe ! 
 For still the more the servant hath, 
 
 The more shall he receive. 
 
 If, strangers to thy fold, we call, 
 
 Imploring, at thy feet, 
 The crumbs that from thy table fall, 
 
 'T is all we dare entreat. 
 
 But be it, Lord of mercy, all, 
 
 So thou wilt grant but this; 
 The crumbs that from thy table fall 
 
 Are light and life and bliss. 
 
 O help us, Father, from on high ! 
 
 We know no help but thee ; 
 O help us so to live and die 
 
 As thine in heaven to be ! 
 
 * By Milman. 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 21 
 
 If we could but carry about with us the con- 
 sciousness of the ever-present God, we might per- 
 haps do without the solemnization of one day to 
 his service. We go about our week-day duties 
 forgetting him, as the busy man in the crowded 
 streets forgets the clear sky above him. Some- 
 times, it is true, God seems to have been scarce- 
 ly nearer us on the day we pretend to devote to 
 him, than when we are about the world's busi- 
 ness. Yet it is more deeply our fault, if we can- 
 not bring him to our hearts in our devotion and 
 our worship. For it is easier to draw near to 
 him in contemplation than in action. We read 
 of mystics, of the old recluses, who spent their 
 lives in contemplation of God, swallowing up in 
 the thought of him all personal desires, all self- 
 ish impulses. Alas ! often as they looked so 
 fixedly into their own souls, they may have found 
 there only the reflection of themselves, and, lost 
 in thought, have forgotten all the traces of God in 
 his creations. Yet in the silence of thought it is 
 easier to conceive of the greatness of God. As 
 in night the countless worlds appear that were 
 hidden in the daytime by the light of the nearer 
 world, the sun, so in silent thought come up the 
 memories of the countless blessings of God, that 
 are lost in the one great blessing that he gives 
 us, of action in life. 
 
 These quiet hours recall to us his greatness 
 
22 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 and his love. We have time to dwell upon his 
 goodness. In the quick passing of every day 
 we do not find time to be thankful. We let 
 events go by as if they followed one another me- 
 chanically. And our life becomes mechanical. 
 Its duties are laid upon certain hours, and are 
 taken up without thought. We pass through 
 the routine of a week, and remember that our 
 hands have been occupied, while our hearts have 
 been moved with scarcely a single impulse. Or 
 else our affections have been selfishly employed. 
 We have not looked up from the round of our daily 
 occupations, nor been lifted by a single high aim. 
 Sometimes through the week we have been re- 
 minded of God, by some happy glimpse of nature, 
 or some awakening word of a friend. Or else, in 
 some moment of pain or agony, we have found 
 we must call upon Him, or have seen some suf- 
 ferer who has found patience through love of him. 
 But seldom have we found him our strength 
 and support for our little daily trials. He seems 
 almost too great for us to come to him with our 
 little temptations and trials. And yet it is these 
 little temptations that avail to stain the white- 
 ness of our character. It is our lesser trials 
 before which we grow weak and faint. It is the 
 duties of every day that we find so hard to per- 
 form. The greater duties, when they come, bring 
 with them a grand impulse, and carry us out in- 
 to the fresh air. 
 
THE EHODODENDRONS. 23 
 
 How inspiring it is, when a fresh air does 
 breathe over "our daily duties, when some new 
 awakening rouses us to a new life, and makes 
 every morning like the first day in Paradise ! It 
 matters very little then what we have to do, — 
 our zeal is strong to carry us through all. And 
 we find our own earnestness reflected on those 
 around us, and we no longer have any burden to 
 carry, but are travelling because the way invites 
 us] This is what we call life. Otherwise the 
 passage of each day is monotony and mechanism. 
 It is the same to the laborer who counts his hours 
 till the time of rest shall come, and to the more 
 weary man who tries to invent labor for his 
 hours, that so he may buy rest for himself at the 
 day's end. But life is more than this. It gives 
 a charm to the necessary labor. It gives a fresh- 
 ness to the seemingly unoccupied hours. 
 
 But this life must come- from God. We cannot 
 work, even in this world, without him. When 
 we involve ourselves in the interests of society, 
 of business, of self, — however various, we make 
 them, however we number them, — we are losing 
 our life so long as they shut out the thought of 
 Him who is the source of life. One gay scene 
 after another is but the repetition one of another, 
 if we have not enlivened them all by a thought 
 of something higher. The more we give our 
 thoughts to our own self-interest, the more are 
 
24 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 we dulling our capacities for happiness, — we are 
 contracting our hearts. 
 
 These thoughts have come into my mind on 
 reading the text of a sermon before me, — " The 
 Father is with. me." I wish I could teach myself 
 how it was that Christ felt always this presence 
 of G-od, for so it was that he made his life a con- 
 stant renewal, and his death but a sign of another 
 life to come. 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 25 
 
 SERMON BY REV. W. B. 0. PEABODY. 
 
 HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED. 
 
 " The Father is with me.'* — John xvi. 32. 
 
 Have you never seen the time when you 
 felt so desolate that the presence of any being 
 would have been a relief to you? Have you 
 never seen the time when you have done some 
 unworthy deed which you could not have done if 
 you had felt that any being was near you ? 
 Have you never gained some victory over your 
 own passions, and wished for some witness of your 
 triumph, some sharer of your joy ? Christianity 
 supplies these wants of the soul. It teaches us 
 that the greatest and best of all beings is always 
 near us, — all we need is to learn to feel His pres- 
 ence in our souls. 
 
 There is no safeguard of human virtue half so 
 powerful as the thought that a being is present, 
 nor does that thought lose its power when we are 
 told that a being is present, and that being is God. 
 Do we not fear him because we cannot see him 
 with our eyes ? If the simple presence of a hu- 
 man being has power over us, and the presence 
 of God has no power, there must be something 
 wrong in our souls. 
 
 There is something wrong in our souls, — this 
 want of spirituality is wrong, — it is wrong to let 
 our minds be so enslaved to visible things as to 
 
 3 
 
26 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 think more of every created thing than of the 
 God who made it. There is no such thing as 
 being religious while we are strangers to God. 
 
 The spirit of religion consists in making the 
 thought of God near, familiar, and welcome ; and 
 you can tell the amount of your own or any oth- 
 er man's religious improvement by ascertaining 
 whether or not he loves to think of God. He 
 who does not take pleasure in thinking of God 
 has no claim to the name of Christian. It is 
 true there are many in the Christian world who 
 never think of God when they can avoid it, who 
 pronounce his name often in profaneness, and 
 never in prayer. They consider themselves Chris- 
 tians, they expect the Divine blessing, they hope 
 to be saved ; if so, they cannot be undeceived too 
 soon. But let us learn from Jesus Christ how 
 far he felt the presence of his Father, — from him 
 we can learn our Christian duty. 
 
 Our Saviour is here telling his disciples that 
 in a little while, in a few hours, the officers of 
 power will be in search of him, and they will 
 leave him alone, without a single friend to sus- 
 tain him in the anxiety and suffering before him. 
 He did not mean to reproach them with this de- 
 sertion ; it was but too natural that they should 
 look upon their own danger with dismay. He 
 meant rather to tell them that they need not up- 
 braid themselves, for though all the world forsake 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 27 
 
 mm, he shall not be left alone; his Almighty Friend 
 and Father will be with him still. 
 
 But while Jesus Christ used this thought of the 
 Divine presence for his own support and encour- 
 agement, this was not the only reason for which 
 he recommended it to them. He wished they 
 might use it as a shield in temptation, because 
 they were to be often and severely tried. He 
 wished they might use it as a consolation in their 
 solitude and despondency, when they too were 
 tempted to say to God, Why hast thou forsaken 
 me ? He wished them to bear it with them, to 
 inspire them in all their duties, — and this was the 
 most important thing ; to know that the eye of 
 God was beaming in its kindness upon them, to 
 know that it smiled encouragement upon their 
 labor when lover and friend were far from them, 
 to know that their least sacrifices and efforts were 
 seen and remembered, would give them the ani- 
 mation they wanted as they went about doing 
 good. 
 
 . The reflection that we are not alone, but our 
 Father is with us, is our safeguard in temptation ; 
 that he is with us, we know ; that none of our 
 actions escape his view, we know ; that he sees 
 our soul when balanced between the choice of 
 good and evil, we know ; — but these are among 
 the things that we know without feeling them, 
 and which it does no good to know without we feel 
 
28 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 tliem. "What avails it to us that there is a heav- 
 en, unless it serves to encourage us in our duties 
 and sorrows ? what avails it that we have a relig- 
 ion, unless we believe it so far as to be influenced 
 by its revelations ? what avails it to us that God 
 is present, unless we act as if he were the wit- 
 ness of our lives ? It avails so little, that those 
 who forget the presence of God are regarded as 
 without God in the world. 
 
 But how are we to feel the presence of God ? 
 how can we make that which is not visible to the 
 eyes distinct and visible to the soul ? How is it 
 that the youth, who, distant from his parent's eye, 
 with pleasures all around him soliciting his desires, 
 with all things about him conspiring to drown the 
 voice of his conscience and make him glory in 
 his shame, — how is it that he is sometimes cut 
 to the heart by the thought of parents who sit in 
 solitude at home, depriving themselves of comforts 
 for his sake, sacrificing their very lives that he 
 may want nothing, while he is conscious that all 
 he wrings from them is wasted in guilty pleasure ? 
 How is it that their written expressions of affec- 
 tionate interest sometimes wound him as if they 
 were written with fire upon his heart ? how is it 
 that sometimes the thought of their kindness 
 makes him start from these delusions, burst the 
 chains like a giant, and return to the path of 
 duty ? Such examples are not uncommon among 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 29 
 
 the young, and all who have seen them may- 
 know what a father's presence, even the thought of 
 a father's presence, can do. Can it be that there 
 is less power in the thought of God ? I do not 
 believe it. Sometimes God has been represented 
 to us in youth in such a way that he has no place 
 either in our affection nor reverence ; but when 
 the parents have done their duty, — where we 
 have been taught to look up to God as one who 
 has an affectionate and never weary interest in 
 our welfare, — where we have been used to re- 
 gard him, not as a gloomy and stern avenger, but 
 a kind and faithful friend, (all which he is,) — 
 I believe that the thought of him has power to 
 wound the heart as deeply as the mild upbraiding 
 of a father's eye. But if we will not feel his pres- 
 ence, we shall not feel it, — it is a matter of 
 choice ; if we will not feel it, we shall lose all the 
 security which it would have afforded us in the 
 various temptations of life, — we shall not feel it 
 till this world is sinking before our eyes, when 
 they are heavy with death, and when the feeling 
 of his presence is a feeling of despair. 
 
 The reflection that we are not alone, but our 
 Father is with us, is our support in sorrow. But 
 his presence must be familiar to us, or it can af- 
 ford us no consolation ; it is not the thought of 
 one whom we have wronged and offended, one 
 whose favor we have never tried to gain, that 
 3* 
 
30 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 can give us happiness in dreary hours. It is the 
 thought of him whose kindness we have loved to 
 acknowledge and remember, him whose friend- 
 ship we have valued and endeavored to gain ; and 
 if in days of prosperity we have been thankless 
 and forgetful of God, his presence cannot be 
 grateful to us in adversity, however kind and 
 cheering, for every word and look of an injured 
 friend is a deep reproach to the guilty. 
 
 We not only lose the consolation which the 
 presence of God might afford us, but, unless we 
 are familiar with his presence, it seems like the 
 presence of an enemy exulting in our pain. So 
 darkly is God represented by those who know 
 him not, that, when misfortune comes, they regard 
 it not as a chastening, but as an injury ; instead of 
 asking what they have done to deserve kindness 
 at his hands, what reason- there is why he should 
 not send misfortunes severer still, they complain 
 bitterly of his withdrawing his goodness when 
 perhaps he has not heard one word of thankful- 
 ness from their lips in the whole course of their 
 lives. 
 
 But how is it that a father's presence ever 
 gives consolation ? It is because the son feels 
 that there is one near him who sympathizes deep- 
 ly with his grief, one who is able to understand 
 his feelings, one who is ready to aid him, tear 
 for tear. The thing that makes suffering intol- 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 31 
 
 erable is the thought that it is nothing to them 
 that pass by, that others are going about their 
 business and enjoying themselves as usual, while 
 our house is made desolate by grief ; and to hear 
 others rejoice in that suffering is more than we 
 can bear. Even Jesus Christ, when he saw the 
 smiles of malicious triumph, and heard the ac- 
 clamations round his cross, felt for a moment as 
 if all were against him, as if he was deserted even 
 by his God. 
 
 If we will have a support in sorrow then, one 
 which will sustain us when we have no other, we 
 must make a friend of God. A friend to man he 
 is, however unworthy ; but we must feel his 
 friendship, we must have an answering feeling 
 awakened in our own breasts. Otherwise, though 
 we are not alone, we shall feel as if we were 
 alone ; we shall endure all the sorrow of desola- 
 tion when our friend is standing nigh. And who 
 can say that he will remain with those who cold- 
 ly disregard him ? We know it is what we should 
 never do for others, and we should ask ourselves 
 what right, what reason, we have to expect it of 
 God. 
 
 The reflection that we are not alone, but our 
 Father is with us, is the best inspiration we can 
 have in duty. And if our lot in life is a hard 
 one, or if our interest in duty leads us to make 
 great exertions, there will be many times when 
 
32 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 we shall want all the encouragement which a 
 thought like this can give. Those who have 
 never done a duty from principle may not know 
 it ; but there are times when, though the heart 
 retains its resolution, the weak nature faints and 
 cannot go through. Such times there were even 
 to Jesus Christ ; divine as his resignation was, 
 there were times when he felt as if he could go 
 no farther, though the universe could not make 
 him retreat one step. In such a time you will 
 find it written of him that he withdrew into the 
 wilderness and prayed, — that he fell on his face 
 and prayed, while sometimes the drops wrung 
 from him by deep agony were flowing from his 
 brow ; — 
 
 " Cold mountains and the midnight air 
 Witnessed the fervor of his prayer." 
 
 Our duty in life is as different from his, as the 
 fireside from the field of battle ; our yoke is easy 
 and our burden light. But even in our duty, 
 when all goes well, when devotion is a pleasure, 
 when it is our enjoyment to do good, when we 
 feel that every day bears us onward as a wave to 
 that improvement which ends in heaven, it is 
 cheering to think that there is joy in heaven at 
 witnessing the growth of religious excellence in 
 any human heart. This happiness we may en- 
 joy when we will, for if there is joy in heaven 
 over the sinner that repenteth, there is a calmer, 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 33 
 
 a less distrusting joy at witnessing the change 
 from glory to glory which will, when the short 
 labor of life is over, add another radiant spirit to 
 the seraphs and sons of light. 
 
 But what is inspiring in the prosperous hours 
 is necessary in those times of despondency from 
 which no course of duty will ever be free There 
 is a time when the heart sinks, when the confi- 
 dence fails, when we feel as if we had labored in 
 vain. There is a time when we seem with all 
 our exertions forced downwards as by the rush 
 of the stream, when we feel as if each coming 
 year of life found us standing still farther from 
 .God. There is a time when everything connect- 
 ed with the world, even its cares and duties, 
 makes us weary and sick at heart. Then we can 
 find encouragement in the thought of God, and of 
 God alone. If all earthly things sink beneath us, 
 we have left Him who alone has immortality; 
 everything earthly is unsatisfactory, and there 
 will be times when we shall feel it in our hearts. 
 But we have no need to trust in the perishing 
 world ; and if we do, we do it in defiance of warn- 
 ing. When the doors of mansions of light are 
 thrown open for us to enter, why should we in- 
 sist on making our bed in the grave ? 
 
 Such is the security and support afforded us by 
 the presence of God in life; but all these are 
 hardly to be compared with the support it affords 
 
34 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 in death, — I mean to those who have not been 
 strangers to God. It is as well to bring that hour 
 before us, because it is one which we must all of 
 us go through, — some of us very soon. It is well 
 to ask whether we shall be sustained by the pres- 
 ence of God when the eye is closed to everything 
 it has loved and treasured on earth, and the last 
 breathings of affection have died away upon the 
 ear for ever. All the past but the remembrance 
 of our goodness or our guilt will perish from the 
 soul ; all the eternal future will spread itself out 
 before us, — a dark and dreary wilderness to those 
 who have left their affections behind them in the 
 world, — a place of glory and joy to those who have 
 prepared for the heavenly country. In all the 
 wide reach of the universe, not a single being can 
 be near to sustain us then beside our God. Let 
 us, then, secure his favor, which is life ; let us pro- 
 vide a stay and solace against that awful hour to 
 which we all shall come. 
 
 Then we shall not be alone in death. The 
 Father, our Father, will be with us ; the gates of 
 mercy will open to receive us ; Jesus, the medi- 
 ator of the new covenant, will welcome us to the 
 many mansions, and we shall receive the crown 
 of righteousness from the hand of God. 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 35 
 
 HOPE IN DEATH. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF KLOPSTOCK. 
 
 How will it be with me then, O then ! 
 When I, to rejoice in the Lord, 
 Shall fall asleep in Him ! 
 No longer stained with any sin, . 
 Set free from mortality, 
 Bejoice thyself, my soul ! 
 Strengthen, console thyself, 
 Redeemed one, with the life 
 That thy God will give thee then ! 
 
 I rejoice and I tremble ! 
 
 The yoke of my misery presses me so, 
 
 The curse of my sin casts me down ! 
 
 But the Lord makes easy my yoke ; 
 
 Through Him does my heart grow strong 
 
 It believes and rises again. 
 
 Jesus ! Christ ! Let me strive 
 
 To live to thee, — to die in thee, — 
 
 To inherit thy Father's kingdom ! 
 
 Scorn then all terror of death, 
 My soul ! 't is a path to look upon, 
 The way through the dark valley. 
 Let it be no more fearful to thee ! 
 Unto the most Holy it leads, 
 The way into the dark valley 
 The rest of God 
 Is imperishable, abundant ; 
 The redeemed may trust in him ! 
 
36 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 My Lord ! my Lord ! I know not the hour 
 
 That, when my eyelids shall fail, 
 
 Will gather me with thy dead. 
 
 Perhaps its night may surround me 
 
 Before I finish this prayer, 
 
 Or have stammered this praise unto thee. 
 
 Father ! Father ! into thy hands 
 
 Commit I my soul, — 
 
 Kind Father, into thy hands ! 
 
 Perhaps my days will be many ; 
 I am yet, perhaps, far from the goal 
 Over which the crown is shining. 
 Am I yet far from the goal ? 
 This tabernacle of my mortality, 
 Will it be, but late, destroyed ? 
 Permit, Father ! my Father ! 
 That good deeds, good deeds, 
 May accompany me 
 To the throne of Eternity ! 
 
 How will it be, ah ! how will it be with me then, 
 
 When I shall rejoice in the Lord, 
 
 Shall offer worship there ! 
 
 No longer stained with sin, 
 
 A partaker of eternity ! 
 
 No longer a child of earth ! 
 
 Blessed One, let us sing to thee ! 
 
 Bring praise and honor 
 
 To thee, who hast been, wilt ever be ! 
 
THE BHODODENDRONS. 37 
 
 God only knows in what department we shall 
 best advance. Our duty is to accept the situation 
 best adapted for us, and use it to the best advan- 
 tage as long as we live. Then, when we are 
 called away, and enter another field of labor, it 
 will be of little consequence upon what sort of 
 materials we have wrought in this world. The 
 test will not then be whether our hands have 
 tilled the earth, built in wood or stone, pulled the 
 ropes of a ship, written a book, painted a picture, 
 or held the sceptre of a nation ; but whether we 
 have gained from these employments that power 
 of mind, purity of taste, and uprightness and 
 force of character, which will enable us to grap- 
 ple with higher themes and more suitable occu- 
 pations. Our gold, our merchandise, our lands, 
 our civic honors, our poem, or our temple we can- 
 not take with us ; but we shall take the soul, 
 which has been fashioned by our effort to gain 
 these possessions, and to acquire and create this 
 power and these works. And he who carries to 
 the unknown world the noblest results from this, 
 has lived the best, and had a genuine success in 
 life. And whether that spirit be Shakespeare, 
 Washington, or some faithful tiller of the ground 
 or sailor upon the great deep, or man of various 
 worldly cares, or woman unknown out of her 
 well-ordered circle, God only can decide ; but this 
 we know, that we can serve him only by making 
 
 4 
 
38 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 the most of those opportunities his wisdom has 
 contrived for our growth in the Christian life. 
 
 For God's method of education is the best, and 
 we only go wrong and fall into confusion when 
 we would alter it. When he creates an oak, he 
 does not plant it in a hot-house, and send gar r 
 deners to water it, and shut off or let in the light 
 and heat ; but an acorn drops into the side of a 
 hill, and by and by a green twig shoots up among 
 the rocks, and through drenching and freezing, 
 and scorching and blowing, and the sifting of 
 the earth over it, and the " haphazard " of vege- 
 table life, it fights its way along, season by sea- 
 son, till in a hundred years it shades the herds- 
 man and the. flock, and the wild storm becomes 
 an anthem away up among its branches. Neither 
 does he choose to rear us to manhood upon spir- 
 itual dainties, or in the conservatory of any tran- 
 scendental theory, but gives us a soul, and a will, 
 and a place to grow in the midst of his universe. 
 And by living as he has appointed, — now stand- 
 ing with our faces scorched in fires of sorrow, 
 now pacing over flats of monotonous labor, now 
 twisting, and stooping, and clambering through 
 rugged paths, now waiting in the dark for the 
 appearing of one star, — by being all and doing 
 all that he wills, do we grow up into the"" perfect 
 man, to the measure of the stature of the fulness 
 of Christ." — A D. Mayo, 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 39 
 
 Have patience with all things, but chiefly have 
 patience with yourself. Do not lose courage by 
 considering your own imperfections, but instantly 
 set about remedying them ; every day begin the 
 task anew. For, in the first place, how can you 
 patiently bear your brother's burden, if you will 
 not bear your own ? — Francis de Sales. 
 
 To live something more than one's self, — that 
 is the secret of all that is great ; to know how to 
 live for others, — that is the aim of all noble 
 souls. 
 
 Because thou sayest, I am rich, and increased 
 with goods, and have need of nothing ; and 
 knowest not that thou art wretched, and misera- 
 ble, and poor, and blind, and naked ; I counsel 
 thee to buy of me gold tried in the fire, that thou 
 mayest be rich ; and white raiment, that thou 
 mayest be clothed, and that the shame of thy na- 
 kedness do not appear ; and anoint thine eyes 
 with eye-salve, that thou mayest see. 
 
 As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten ; be 
 zealous therefore, and repent. — Revelation iii. 
 17-19. 
 
 It is neither the austerities of the body nor the 
 agitations of, the soul, but the good emotions of 
 the heart, which require and which sustain the 
 
40 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 pains of the body and the soul. For there are 
 needed these two things towards our purification, 
 pains and pleasures. St. Paul has said that 
 those who will enter upon the good way will find 
 troubles and anxieties without number. This 
 ought to serve as consolation, since, being warned 
 that the way to heaven that we seek is filled 
 with them, we ought to rejoice at meeting such 
 signs that we are in the true road. But these 
 pains are not without pleasure, and are surmount- 
 ed only with pleasure. For as those who quit 
 God to return to the world do it only because 
 they find more sweetness in the pleasures of the 
 world than in a union with God, and because 
 this charm victoriously allures them, and, making 
 them repent of their first choice, renders them 
 the a devil's penitents," according to the phrase of 
 Tertullian, so we should never quit the pleasures 
 of the world to embrace the cross of Jesus Christ, 
 were there not to be found more sweetness in 
 contempt, poverty, self-renunciation, and in the 
 scorn of men, than in the charms of sin. And 
 thus, as Tertullian says, it is not necessary to fan- 
 cy the life of a Christian a life of sadness. He 
 never quits pleasures but for others still greater. 
 Pray without ceasing, says St. Paul ; in every- 
 thing give thanks ; rejoice evermore. It is the 
 joy of having found God that lies below the sad- 
 ness of having offended him and the complete re- 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 41 
 
 newal of our life. He who has found a treasure 
 in a field has such joy, according to Jesus Christ, 
 that he sells all that he may buy it. The people 
 of the world have their own sadness, and they 
 have not that joy that the world can neither give 
 nor take away, says Jesus Christ himself. 
 
 Let us not then give way to sadness, nor be- 
 lieve that piety consists only in a bitterness with- 
 out consolation. A true religion, such as is found 
 complete only in heaven, is so full of satisfactions, 
 that its beginning, its progress, and its goal is 
 filled and crowned by them. It is a brilliant 
 light which it sheds on all that belongs to it. Is 
 there any sadness mingled with it, and especially 
 in its beginning, it is from us that it rises, and 
 not from goodness itself; for it is not the effect 
 of the piety dawning in us, but of the impiety that 
 lingers with us still. Remove the impiety, and 
 the joy will be without stain. — Pascal. 
 
 One of the most persuasive, if not the strongest, 
 arguments for a future state rests on the belief, 
 that, although by the necessity of things our out- 
 ward and temporal welfare must be regulated by 
 our outward actions, which alone can be the ob- 
 jects and guides of human law, there must yet 
 needs come a juster and more appropriate sen- 
 tence hereafter, in which our intentions will be 
 considered and our happiness and misery made 
 
 4* 
 
42 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 to accord with the grounds of our actions. Our 
 fellow-creatures can only judge what we are by 
 what we do ; but in the eye of our Maker what 
 we do is of no worth, except as it flows from 
 what we are. Though the fig-tree should pro- 
 duce no visible fruit, yet if the living sap is in it, 
 and if it has struggled to put forth buds and 
 blossoms which have been prevented from matur- 
 ing by inevitable contingencies of tempests or 
 untimely frosts, the virtuous sap will be account- 
 ed as fruit, and the curse of barrenness will light 
 on many a tree from the boughs of which hun- 
 dreds have been satisfied, because the Omnis- 
 cient Judge knows that the fruits were threaded 
 to the boughs artificially by the outward work- 
 ings of base fear and selfish hopes, and were nei- 
 ther nourished by the love of God or man, nor 
 grew out of the graces engrafted on the stock by 
 religion. — Coleridge. 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 43 
 
 CHRIST'S LOVE TO US AN EXAMPLE FOR OUR LOVE 
 TO OUR BRETHREN. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF A. THOLUCK. 
 
 Think of the Son of God and man, whom the 
 sea and the powers of nature obeyed, — to what 
 did he turn the omnipotence of his powers ? To 
 establish a glorious kingdom ? To collect all the 
 splendor and all the riches of the earth around 
 himself? Imagine that you should be gifted 
 some time with such a power, that could rule 
 heaven in its heights, and the abysses in their 
 depths, — should you, my brother, turn it to such 
 purposes as the Saviour did ? Would this be 
 nearest to your heart, — to go up and down in the 
 midst of the want and the misery of the children 
 of men, to show this divine, wondrous power in 
 the healing of their infirmities ? Would this be 
 the joy oiyour life, too, — to walk among the blind, 
 the deaf, the palsied, to become their Saviour and 
 their helper ? where is there a heart like the 
 heart of Jesus ! His work was love, — love flowed 
 from the hem of his garment. Christians, be- 
 hold what a man was he ! Yet what helps it, 
 if the eye of the body becomes clear for the blind 
 man, while the eye of the soul remains blind, — 
 that your bodily ear learns to hear the words of 
 men, while the spiritual ear remains deaf to the 
 words of God, — that the dead in the body rise up 
 
44 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 from the dust of their graves, while the spiritual 
 sleeper remains dead in the death of sin ? It is 
 said of him, " that he was moved with compassion 
 that the multitude had no bread." 0, far more 
 is he moved when he sees that the world has not 
 the bread of life ! How did he go about to seek 
 and to save that which was lost! Look with 
 what company do you find him surrounded, the 
 holy one and pure of God ? Again and again 
 you read, " with publicans and sinners. " "With 
 the outcast, with the abandoned of the people, 
 with just these does he take up his abode. 
 how earnestly did he woo each single soul, that 
 he might not lose one of them that his Father 
 had given him! "What man is there among 
 you," he says, " having a hundred sheep, if he 
 lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and 
 nine in the wilderness, and go after that which 
 is lost ? " — away through thorns and thistles, over 
 the heights, through the valleys, till it is found ; 
 and when it is found, lie lays it upon his shoul- 
 ders, and brings it home with joy. Yes, faithful 
 Saviour, this is thy picture, which thou hast thyself 
 painted ! Yes, we know it, so thou hast thyself 
 sought for us, till thou hast brought us home to 
 the fold of thy Father. See him in conversation 
 with the Samaritan woman, who of us would have 
 persevered with this very poor, very darkened 
 soul ? He offers her living water, and she thinks 
 of the water of the well that stands before her. 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 45 
 
 But how he draws near her, how he penetrates the 
 depths of her soul ! See how he labors with a 
 Peter, till the wavering reed is changed into a rock, 
 till from his stirred soul presses the cry, " Lord, 
 thou knowest all things, — thou knowest that I love 
 thee ! " See how he would have sued with love 
 even the soul of his betrayer ! So was he when 
 he walked among us. Behold the man! But 
 so too is he now, since he is glorified with the 
 Father, and the promise fulfilled, " When I am 
 lifted up, I shall draw all men to me." You 
 who now are wandering in his pastures, and who 
 in communion with the Lord receive daily mercy 
 upon mercy, witness to the world how he has 
 drawn near to your soul, how he has awakened 
 you and lifted you through his Holy Spirit, till 
 you at last lie at his feet, crying that his love has 
 conquered, that, weeping bitterly, you bend like a 
 child at his knees. This he has done for thee ; 
 what hast thou done for him ? 
 
 Has he thus loved us, my brethren, how then 
 ought we, following his example, love our broth- 
 ers? 
 
 The first thing for us also, before we do any- 
 thing for the need of our brethren, is that we 
 must suffer with them, and before we suffer with 
 them we must know their want and misery. 
 Only the wants of the body, these we can easily 
 acquaint ourselves with ; for who is there who 
 feels them not himself? But the need of the hu- 
 
46 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 man soul ! If you have yet known nothing of 
 the need of the soul, the need of the soul is per- 
 haps for many a wholly new -thought ! It will 
 first dawn upon you when you have learnt to- un- 
 derstand that little word sin. There must have 
 come in your own life hours when, in the light 
 of divine truth, your own self-righteousness has 
 appeared to you like a spotted garment, — when 
 with trembling you have perceived that, if we are 
 judged according to our works, no flesh will 
 stand upright before God. You must feel your 
 own fetters, you must know of those tears which 
 spring from a longing for spiritual freedom, you 
 must look into the abyss of your own heart. 
 
 But, my brother, do you belong to the class 
 whom the Saviour pronounces blessed, — to the 
 poor in spirit ? Then you will not merely be able 
 to suffer, but you must suffer with the need of 
 the soul of sinful men. You see the broad street 
 of which the Saviour says that it leads to de- 
 struction. Large, gay bands enter upon it, and 
 in the ear of your soul sounds the heart-rending 
 echoing shout of joy of some, with the heart- 
 rending cry of sorrow from others ; it sounds upon 
 your heart when first your loving glance has 
 fallen upon the needs of humanity ; upon your 
 heart there lies as upon the heart of the Saviour 
 a world of woe ; your soul is unspeakably sor- 
 rowful, and you fain would help. 
 
 Who among you feels his heart so pressed by 
 
THE RHODODENDRONS. 47 
 
 the need of his brother ? I know it well, — so 
 long as you do not feel your own need, you cannot 
 sympathize with the need of your brother ; and 
 who is there who will confess the wounds of his 
 own heart ? Alas ! most men pass by the plain- 
 tive cry of suffering humanity, and close their 
 ears that they may not hear it. History tells us 
 of an Asiatic prince who, that he might never 
 more see the boundless misery of his suffering 
 subjects, shut himself up for ever in his palace, 
 extinguished the light of day, and by the glow 
 of lamps, forgetting the misery that was without, 
 went on gayly to his end. Such as he are you 
 who until this hour have never felt the need of 
 suffering humanity, not even your own ! Can 
 you then so completely forget the tears of your 
 Saviour, that he wept for all humanity and for 
 you? 
 
 Yet from our Lord has come to us, not merely 
 an example of how we should suffer with our 
 brethren, but how we should help them. " Even 
 as he walked," said John, " ought we also to 
 walk in the world." you who have not yet 
 learnt precisely what your vocation is in life, 
 would you take up a glorious vocation, blessed 
 beyond all measure ? "As he walked in the 
 world, so also ought you to walk " ; as he went 
 round among the sick and the poor of the earth, 
 so also should you. It is true you cannot say to 
 the blind, See ! nor to the lame, Arise and walk ! 
 
48 A STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 But to each one of you lias the goodness of God 
 given many gifts, that you might be a preserving 
 angel in the bodily wants of your brethren. The 
 more our love grows, the more do we perceive 
 our power to help. If in the beginning it seems 
 to you that no gifts are lent you for your sorrow- 
 ing brethren, 0, believe me, the eye of love only 
 fails you ; with your love your power increases. 
 And have ) T ou in the end nothing to give but the 
 word of counsel and of consolation, and the silent, 
 sympathizing pressure of the hand, and if you 
 think that this is nothing for your sorrowing 
 brethren, then you have never suffered yourself. 
 But granting that there were no power lent you 
 to dry the tears of your brother that are shed for 
 the sorrows of this world, yet arise, since it is 
 in your hands there rests the power to help the 
 need of his soul. " Peter," said the Lord to his 
 wavering disciple, " when thou art converted, 
 strengthen thy brethren." " Simon Peter, lovest 
 thou me, feed my sheep." O you who know how 
 long Christ the Lord waited for you with long- 
 suffering and with patience, until from the weak 
 Simon, poor in faith, came forth a Cephas, a man 
 of rock, to you are these words directed. Did 
 the Good Shepherd go forth into the mountains 
 and through the wilderness till he brought you 
 home, who would not also go forth for his wander- 
 ing brethren ? " This I have done for thee ; what 
 wilt thou do for me ? " 
 
THE SECOND STOEMY SUNDAY. 
 
 THE SURE WALL. 
 
 " God. when he takes my goods and chattels hence, 
 Gives me a portion, giving patience. 
 What is in God is God ; if so it be 
 He patience gives, he gives himself to me." 
 
 Herri ck. 
 
THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 THE SURE WALL. 
 
 I stood by the window this morning and looked 
 out. It had been storming heavily through the 
 night, and I had heard the wind blustering loudly. 
 But all was still in the morning. Slowly and 
 quietly the snow was falling. Across the path- 
 way from the door lay heavy drifts of snow, and 
 over these fresh snow fell. It fell like a white 
 mist, shutting out the distant landscape, like a 
 white curtain that shielded my window. Now 
 and then I could trace the softened outline of dis- 
 tant snow-covered hills, and then the veil would 
 close around me again. There was something 
 very impressive in the quiet and the solitude. A 
 sense of protection came over me, as I felt myself 
 shut in by this silently falling barrier. It all 
 recalled to me a story I had read, which I 
 cannot bring back clearly, but I can retrace its 
 impression. 
 
 It was a story of the sad times when the great 
 
52 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 French army was making its retreat from Mos- 
 cow. In a poor, low cottage, in a little village, 
 was lying an invalid boy. This village lay in the 
 course of the retreating army, and already the 
 reports of its approach had reached the terrified 
 inhabitants. In their turn, they began to make 
 their preparations for retreat, for they knew 
 there was no hope for them from the hands of the 
 great moving mass of soldiery, which 'was seeking 
 its own preservation, was reckless in its demands, 
 and gave no quarter. Every one who had the 
 strength to fly, fled, some trying to take with 
 them their worldly goods, some to conceal them. 
 The little village was fast growing deserted. 
 Some burnt their houses or dismantled them. 
 The old were placed in wagons, and the young 
 hurried their families away with them. 
 
 But in the little cottage there was none of this 
 bustle. The poor crippled boy could not move 
 from his bed. The widowed mother had no 
 friends near enough to spare a thought for her in 
 this hurrying time of trouble, when- every one 
 thought only of those nearest to him and of him- 
 self. What chance in flight was there for her 
 and her young children, and a poor crippled boy ! 
 
 It was evening, and the sound of distant voices 
 and of preparation had died away. The poor 
 boy was wakeful with terror, now urging his 
 mother to leave him to his fate, now dreading 
 
THE SURE WALL. 53 
 
 lest she should take him at his word and leave 
 him behind. 
 
 " The neighbors are just going away ; I hear 
 them no longer," he said. " I am so selfish, I 
 have kept you here. Take the little girls with 
 you ; it is not too late. And I am safe ; who will 
 hurt a poor, helpless boy ? " 
 
 " We are all safe," answered the mother ; "G-od 
 will not leave us, though all else forsake us." 
 
 " But what can help us ? " persisted the boy. 
 " Who can defend us from their cruelty ? Such 
 stories as I have heard of the ravages of these 
 men ! They are not men, they are wild beasts. 
 0, why was I made so weak, — so weak as to 
 be ^utterly useless ! No strength to defend, no 
 strength even to fly ! " 
 
 " There is a sure wall for the defenceless," 
 answered his mother ; " God will build us up a 
 sure wall." 
 
 "You are my strength now," said the boy; "I 
 thank God that you did not desert me. I am so 
 weak, I cling to you. Do not leave me indeed ! 
 I fancy I can see the cruel soldiers" hurrying in. 
 We are too 'poor to satisfy them, and they would 
 pour their vengeance upon us ! And yet you 
 ought to leave me ! What right have I to keep 
 you here ? And I shall suffer more if I see you 
 suffer." 
 
 " God will be our refuge and defence," still 
 
 5* 
 
54 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 said the mother ; and at length, with low, quiet- 
 ing words, she stilled the anxious boy, till he 
 too slept, like his sisters. The morning came of 
 the day that was to bring the dreaded enemy. 
 The mother and children opened their eyes to 
 find that a "sure wall" had indeed been built 
 for their defence. The snow had begun to fall 
 the evening before. Through the night it had 
 collected rapidly. A high wind had blown the 
 snow in drifts against the low house, so that it 
 had entirely covered it. A low shed behind pro- 
 tected the way to the outhouse where the animals 
 were, and for a few days the mother and her chil- 
 dren kept themselves alive within their cottage, 
 shut in and concealed by the heavy barricades of 
 snow. 
 
 It was during that time that the dreaded 
 scourge passed over the village. Every house was 
 ransacked ; all the wealthier ones deprived of 
 their luxuries, and the poorer ones robbed of their 
 necessities. But the low-roofed cottage lay shel- 
 tered beneath its wall of snow which in the silent 
 night had gathered around it. God had protect- 
 ed the defenceless with a " sure wall." 
 
 A silently falling snow often recalls to me this 
 story. It shuts me in as if it were trying to pro- 
 tect me from outer enemies. And to-day its con- 
 trast has seemed especially opposed to the busy* 
 week that has gone before. 
 
THE SURE WALL. 55 
 
 Another stormy Sunday, and I have been 
 again alone. George is in New York. Joanna, 
 with the perseverance of those of her faith, ven- 
 tured to her church in the storm, but I did not 
 dare to face it. All the . plans that I formed 
 yesterday with regard to going to church were 
 changed by this unexpected storm, and I pre- 
 pared myself again for a solitary worship. 
 
 I felt as if a new temple had been built around 
 me of the snow ; as if I ought to shut out from it 
 every impure and unworthy thought ; as if an 
 Infinite Being were sheltering me. I tried to 
 still within me all discordant ambitions, that I 
 might be in tune with the silence of the day. 
 To-day there has been no sound of the whistle of 
 the steam-engine trying to force its way through 
 the snow-drifts. Even the distant church-bells 
 could not be heard through the deadening snow. 
 I have not had so quiet a day since last Sunday. 
 All has been turmoil and bustle, and I have had 
 little time to think over my good resolutions. 
 
 I again invented for myself a series of solitary 
 services, to occupy some of the quiet hours of the 
 day. I read, devoutly and thoughtfully, prayer 
 and hymn and sermon. In my lonely temple I 
 tried to realize the close presence of the Most 
 High. 
 
 It seemed indeed a very lonely, solitary ser- 
 vice. I missed the sound of human voice. It 
 
56 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 was very impressive to me, yet after a while the 
 silence seemed too deep. After my soul had 
 offered its silent worship, I longed to give praise 
 with my voice too, or to listen to the praising 
 voices of others. I thought of the glorious music 
 that accompanies the words, " I know that my 
 Redeemer liveth ! " and I wished that I had 
 the power to express such faith, in such grand 
 changes of harmony. I called back to memory 
 the wonderful voice that once had sung these 
 words to me with convincing power ; but mem- 
 ory brought them back silently, — there was no 
 sound. I opened the piano and tried to hear, 
 in the changing chords of the Prayer from Moses 
 in Egypt, the varying voices of a congregation. 
 And then I went back to silence again, to kneel 
 before God. 
 
 The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. 
 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, he 
 leadeth me beside the still waters. 
 
 He restoreth my soul ; he leadeth me in the 
 paths of righteousness for his name's sake. 
 
 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the 
 shadow of death, I will fear no evil ; for Thou art 
 with me ; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 
 
 Thou preparest a table before me in the pres- 
 ence of mine enemies ; Thou anointest my head 
 with oil ; my cup runneth over. 
 
THE SURE WALL. 57 
 
 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all 
 the days of my life ; and I will dwell in the house 
 of the Lord for ever. 
 
 I have to recall the failure of my resolutions 
 that I formed in the quiet of my last silent Sun- 
 day. I have to remember the passage of anoth- 
 er week that has gone back to join many others 
 as profitless. 
 
 How different will be our estimate of time, — 
 the time that we have lived through, — when we 
 shall reach the world that is no longer so meas- 
 ured! Memory now is dazzled by the present. 
 Then we shall make a truer judgment of the 
 worth of past events. In looking back upon a 
 past week, now, we are scarcely able to judge 
 which of our acts had itself a real worth. We 
 look back with a sort of exultation upon some 
 three hours' labor, that seems to us worthy of 
 great praise. It may not, then, count so much 
 to us as one moment's patience, or, alas ! a mo- 
 ment's impatience. A hasty word or glance that 
 broke forth from a moment of impatience will 
 not merely leave its impression on the moment 
 that follows, but on the eternity in which we 
 shall have time to recall it. 
 
 We do not show our value of time by sitting 
 down to count its sands as they pass, nor by 
 regretting those that have past. We may make 
 
58 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 the moment that lies in our hand of value to our- 
 selves or to others. We may waste it, by wait- 
 ing, to wonder what we shall do with it. We 
 cannot throw it away. Most frequently it comes 
 to us labelled with its own duty or purpose ; it 
 needs only our earnestness to read this rightly 
 and act upon it. Its value, of course, rests only 
 in the way we use it. We cannot yet judge, 
 ourselves, whether this will be because we have 
 enjoyed that moment most, the sky and wayside 
 flower ; or because we have helped that mo- 
 ment a sufferer, shut up in a close street, out of 
 reach of air or joy ; or because we have that 
 moment conquered some secret enemy of our 
 heart, trampled down an evil passion, or turned 
 away from some sorrow in our own soul, to join 
 the happy chorus there is in God's creation. 
 God, who has created a time for all things, knows 
 best. We cannot judge. Yet at times we are 
 supported by a courageous feeling at heart, thab 
 shows us when we have done the right thing at 
 the right time. And at other times, we look back 
 with a penetrating glance, and see more clearly 
 than when the hour was passing, — see, sometimes 
 with a shudder, when we have, and when we have 
 not, acted simply, purely, and nobly. We see 
 whether we have taken the gift of the moment 
 joyfully and solemnly; — joyfully, because it is a 
 gift; solemnly, because it is a gift of God's. 
 
THE SURE WALL. 59 
 
 SERMON. 
 
 " But, beloved, be not ignorant of this one thing, that one day is 
 with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one 
 day." — 2 Peter hi. 8. 
 
 There seems to be a contradiction in this state- 
 ment, and yet we immediately see how it is rec- 
 onciled. 
 
 We cannot understand the meaning of the 
 words to be, that God beholds with serene indif- 
 ference all the fluctuations in the ever-swelling 
 tide of earth's joys and sorrows. We cannot un- 
 derstand by the statement, that a day or a thousand 
 years are alike nothing to God ; for this would be 
 the same as declaring that the events with which 
 a day or a century is crowned are nothing to him, 
 which would amount to the same as saying that 
 there is no such thing as Divine Providence. 
 
 We obviously understand, however, from our 
 text, that, by the Eternal Being, events and ac- 
 tions are not measured according to the length of 
 time which they occupy, but according to their 
 moral significance ; not by their duration, but by 
 their quality. 
 
 It is upon the same principle that money is 
 weighed in the scales of divine wisdom. It is not 
 the vast amount which sinks down the scale ; it 
 is the two mites devoted to his cause by one who, 
 when they are bestowed, has nothing left but faith 
 
60 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 in his God's protection. She is the rich person 
 in God's eye who has the wealth of heart to 
 make such a sacrifice, while he who, even out of 
 the abundance that he hath, refuses to give back 
 aught to the great Being from whom he has 
 received all, as he is seen from the battlements of 
 heaven, appears stricken with poverty, covered 
 with rags. 
 
 And so in regard to time. Those ancient dy- 
 nasties whose power has reached through long 
 •centuries, handed down from father to son, — men 
 say of them, What a noble family ! how glorious 
 to be the founder of a race who should hold the 
 throne for a thousand years ! Glorious ! How 
 much longer in its influence than many such 
 thousands of years, was that one day on which, 
 in Judaea, that meek sufferer laid down his life 
 for his friends ! And how must it have appeared 
 to the Infinite Mind, who sees the end from the 
 beginning! And how much more space in the 
 chronicle of eternity must one day which records 
 the self-denying love of some unknown follower 
 of Jesus occupy, than the thousand years' history 
 of some line of pampered monarchs ! 
 
 Let us then bear in mind, that mere duration 
 does not appear to God as it does to us ; that he is 
 not oppressed by the contemplation of vast peri- 
 ods of time, nor unable rightly to estimate the 
 opportunities of good provided for his children in 
 one small day. 
 
THE SURE WALL. 61 
 
 The passage of Scripture which we are consid- 
 ering contains its own divisions, and these let us 
 seek to follow. 
 
 First, " one day is with the Lord as a thousand 
 years." How awful is the thought ! How sig- 
 nificantly it forces on us the great idea of oppor- 
 tunity ! For we are not to understand thereby 
 that God, by special creative acts, can do in one 
 day the slow work of a thousand years, or intro- 
 duce at once new orders of creatures into exist- 
 ence, which thousands of years had rolled by 
 without beholding, but that, as he looks upon 
 man, one day seems big with results which shall 
 last through countless centuries. And what a 
 reflection ! You have discerned naught that is 
 unusual in the day ; you are willing that it shall 
 leave you where it shall find you ; but the sun, as 
 it rose this morning, rose upon some who shall 
 do this day the work of a thousand years. Some 
 pious resolution made and kept, and the soul's 
 future life, here and hereafter, a new thing for 
 it ; some earnest counsel given by parent to 
 child, and the child turning short in his career, 
 and from this day ever going upward, upward ! 
 some deed of Christian sympathy performed in 
 the spirit of Him who made it lawful to do 
 good on the Sabbath day, and the dawn of hope 
 wakened in some despondent heart, — a dawn to 
 know no night ! And while you sit here, scarce 
 
 6 
 
62 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 taking in the thought that you are immortal, 
 and I speak as if I forgot that this might be the 
 last hour of our worship to some of us, there 
 are those even now somewhere on the earth who 
 are hearing the voices of the sanctuary, as if 
 they themselves were already in eternity, those 
 speaking as if they were urging the great coun- 
 sels of their dying hour. Sometimes it becomes 
 plain in what way the providence of God may 
 seem to exalt one day above a thousand years, 
 by giving it a sun that never sets. Such a day 
 was that in which the great German Keformer 
 said to the friends who predicted his bloody death 
 if he obeyed the summons of the Emperor, " If I 
 knew there were as many devils at Worms as tiles 
 on the houses, I would go." Such a day was that 
 on which a youthful nation, hemmed in between 
 the sea and the wilderness, as she broke from the 
 chains with which a mighty kingdom was bind- 
 ing her, proclaimed her faith that all men are 
 created equal. 
 
 But to see in any common day, as it passes, the 
 opportunities of a thousand years, — opportunities 
 waiting for us to improve them, — is a truth which 
 it seems harder to realize. With what mysterious 
 value it invests these fleeting moments ! How 
 solemn a thing does it seem to live ! Within 
 and around us, to realize that there are springs 
 which, from the motion we impress on them in 
 
THE SURE WALL. 63 
 
 one day, shall not cease vibrating for a thousand 
 years ! Never shall we do with true fidelity the 
 work which God calls us to, until we awake to 
 the significance of a single day. If we cannot 
 see the immortal uses which lie hidden in one 
 day, we shall not be likely to see those which lie 
 hidden in many. We may speak of the dignity 
 of human nature ; but if, as we fasten our thoughts 
 upon one human soul, we see no boundless ca- 
 pacities in it, our faith in the capacities of the 
 race will hardly be a solid and animating one. 
 And so, whenever we despise to-day, let us cease 
 talking about the opportunities of life, let us give 
 over dreaming of the great things which we shall 
 do, " when we come to them." 
 
 We sometimes go through a series of events in 
 one day which make it a long and memorable 
 one in our lives. What a day that must have 
 been to the inmates of that vessel which, not 
 many years since, you may remember, within 
 sight of our coasts was dragging her anchor, for 
 eleven hours, through the wild waters and the 
 grating rocks ! How must the thoughts, the 
 prayers, the anxious love of years, have been 
 concentrated into the weary moments ! And 
 when that great anchor of the soul, once so sure 
 and steadfast, no longer holds us firm, — when that 
 drags heavily, displaced by the shock of succes- 
 sive fears, though they be condensed within the 
 compass of hours, — how the anxious, throbbing 
 
64 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 life of years is crowded into such a day ! Is it 
 so ? Can a messenger of God's afflictive provi- 
 dence thus stay the flight of time, so that the 
 sun seems to stand still on Gibeon, and the moon 
 in the valley of Ajalon ? And shall the work 
 with which life is full, the soul's immortal desti- 
 ny, the hourly blessings which God is dispensing, 
 be never enough to bid it pause in our earthly 
 distractions? Shall we measure the length of 
 the day only by the worldly excitements through 
 which we rush, or by the tide of calamity which 
 may set in upon us, and never by any deep, ear- 
 nest meditations upon the great fact of our exist- 
 ence, the solemn thought of our accountability, 
 the tremendous nature of the responsibilities 
 which each single, solitary day as it passes sum- 
 mons us manfully to meet ? 0, let us be more 
 intent, in this seed-time of our being, to permit 
 each day to teem with the promise of its thou- 
 sand years' harvest in a bright eternity ! 
 
 And now let us turn to the second division of 
 our subject. " Beloved, be not ignorant of one 
 thing, that one day is with the Lord as a thou- 
 sand years, and a thousand years as one day." 
 
 A thousand years as one day ! How full of 
 significance also is this reflection ! Think of an 
 existence to whose eternal being the thousands 
 of years in the past, and those concealed from 
 our eyes in the future, appear as but brief days ! 
 Consider, too, that it is your destiny as an im- 
 
THE SURE WALL. 65 
 
 mortal creature to see at length the period when 
 a thousand years shall flit again before your mem- 
 ory as but a day ! And what profiting thought 
 shall we deduce from the reflection ? 
 
 Do we not see, first, in a clearer light, the true 
 nature of our earthly discipline ? A thousand 
 years but one day ! Yet, when such a day comes 
 back upon the soul's vision, what is there to leave 
 an impress but the leading thought, the ruling 
 purpose, which guided its long procession of 
 fiours? Could we but live more from week to 
 week in the anticipation of that period when we 
 shall measure time only by its results as left 
 upon the character, we should not suffer our- 
 selves to be so disquieted about things which 
 ought to tempt superior intelligences to imagine 
 that we believe we are but creatures of a day ! 
 How our varying duties and pleasures assume 
 their true place, as we mark off our undying life 
 by hundreds and by thousands of years ! What 
 we wore, what we ate, the flattery we received, 
 the money we accumulated, how shall we find 
 space to dwell upon these beguiling circum- 
 stances of our earthly being, in the period when, 
 to memory, hundreds of years are condensed into 
 hours ? Look back even from your point of view 
 to-day, look back ten years, and could you see 
 again daguerreotyped with unerring minuteness 
 upon your mind the little sources of annoyance 
 
 6* 
 
66 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 which from day to day disturbed your peace, you 
 would scarcely believe that the picture were a 
 true one ; you would look upon it with the com- 
 passion which the heart-breaking sobs of a child 
 over the destruction of some plaything of the 
 hour might excite. How could I, you would 
 say, have anticipated so much unhappiness from 
 that transient cause of uneasiness ? Did I be- 
 lieve that to be vexed by that disquietude of a 
 week was the sole end and purpose of God's 
 calling me into being ? And yet these thoughts, 
 these rebellious emotions which come back before 
 me, would make it seem as if I must almost have 
 believed it. 
 
 But just so unworthy to engross your mind 
 will the petty cares anci vexations which cast 
 their uneasy shadow over your brow now appear, 
 as you look back on them ten and twenty years 
 hence. How much more so, as you look back 
 upon this short day of earth from the mysterious 
 ages of eternity ! 
 
 In the second place, the reflection that with 
 the Lord a thousand years are but as one day, is 
 adapted to inspire hope and courage in our en- 
 deavors to fulfil our Christian duty. Long and 
 painful, at times, seem the efforts we need con- 
 tinually to renew in order to subdue an evil pro- 
 pensity, hopeless almost our attempts in any wise 
 to catch the spirit of Christ's disinterested love. 
 But what of the pains and the toil, with an enter- 
 
THE SURE WALL. 67 
 
 prise in view so enduring ? When the years of 
 life's pilgrimage retire into their true proportions 
 as compared with eternity, and appear but as 
 one day, who will then count the moments ex- 
 pended in a brave struggle with his self-indul- 
 gence, who lament that he did not more eagerly 
 follow deceitful phantoms by the wayside ? 
 
 The two branches of our subject are indissolu- 
 bly intertwined. " Beloved, be not ignorant of 
 one thing, that one day is with the Lord as a 
 thousand years, and a thousand years as one 
 day." And how the truth which thus harmo- 
 nizes in these two statements ought to cheer those 
 who lament the yet unaccomplished triumph of 
 many a good cause ! Let us take heart as we 
 remember that God has time in which to accom- 
 plish his will. 
 
 I commend the doctrine in the text to those 
 engaged in the instruction of the young, partic- 
 ularly those employed in their religious instruc- 
 tion, and I commend it to all who bear part in 
 the teachings of the Sunday school. We must 
 work, remembering that u one day is as a thou- 
 sand years,' ' — that by speaking a word in season 
 we may save a soul from being put back a thou- 
 sand years ; and yet we must be kept from de- 
 sponding by recollecting that with God a thou- 
 sand years are as one day, — that results cannot 
 be always immediately seen, — that he has other 
 means of influence besides ourselves. 
 
68 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 " The eyes of them that see shall not be dim ; and the ears of them 
 that hear shall hearken." — Isaiah xxxii. 3. 
 
 * Of the bright things in earth and air 
 How little can the heart embrace ! 
 Soft shades and gleaming lights are there, • 
 I know it well, but cannot trace. 
 
 Mine eye unworthy seems to read 
 
 One page of Nature's beauteous book ; 
 
 It lies before me fair outspread, ■— 
 I only cast a wishful look. 
 
 I cannot paint to memory's eye 
 
 The scene, the glance, I dearest love ; 
 
 Unchanged themselves, in me they die, 
 Or faint or false their shadows prove. 
 
 In vain, with dull and tuneless ear, 
 
 I linger by soft Music's cell, 
 And in my heart of hearts would hear 
 
 What to her own she deigns to tell. 
 
 'T is misty all, both sight and sound, — 
 I only know 't is fair and sweet ; 
 
 'T is wandering on enchanted ground, 
 With dizzy brow and tottering feet. 
 
 But patience ! there may come a time 
 When these dull ears shall scan aright 
 
 * Keble. 
 
THE SURE WALL. 69 
 
 Strains that outring earth's drowsy chime, 
 As heaven outshines the taper's light. 
 
 These eyes, that, dazzled now and weak, 
 At glancing motes in sunshine wink, 
 
 Shall see the King's full glory break, 
 Nor from the blissful vision shrink ; — 
 
 In fearless love and hope uncloyed, 
 
 For ever on that ocean bright 
 Empowered to gaze, and, undestroyed, 
 
 Deeper and deeper plunge in light. 
 
 Though scarcely now their laggard glance 
 Reach to an arrow's flight, that day 
 
 They shall behold, and not in trance, 
 The region " very far away." 
 
 If Memory sometimes at our spell 
 
 Refuse to speak, or speak amiss, 
 We shall not need her where we dwell, 
 
 Ever in sight of all our bliss. 
 
 Meanwhile, if over sea or sky 
 
 Some tender lights unnoticed fleet, 
 
 Or on loved features dawn and die, 
 Unread to us, their lesson sweet, — 
 
 Yet are there saddening sights around, 
 Which Heaven in mercy spares us too, 
 
 And we see far in holy ground, 
 If duly purged our mortal view. 
 
70 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 The distant landscape draws not nigh 
 Eor all our gazing, but the soul 
 
 That upward looks may still descry, 
 Nearer each day, the brightening goal. 
 
 And thou, too curious ear, that fain 
 Wouldst thread the maze of harmony, 
 
 Content thee with one simple strain, 
 The lowlier, sure, the worthier thee ; — 
 
 Till thou art duly trained and taught 
 The concord sweet of love divine ; 
 
 Then, with that inward music fraught, 
 For ever rise and sing and shine. 
 
THE SURE WALL. 71 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 thou eternal and unchangeable God ! the 
 same yesterday, to-day, and for ever ; thou who 
 appointest the changes of the seasons, — the sun to 
 rule by day, the moon and stars by night, — wilt 
 thou still, in thy infinite majesty, accept the offer- 
 ing of praise from a humble heart ? Help me to 
 draw near to thee, that so I may pray for what I 
 need, that I may be conscious that I am truly 
 near Him who giveth to him that asketh. 
 
 In the blessed quiet of this day, wilt thou help 
 me to purify my heart. Lead me to turn away 
 from all evil thoughts, to consecrate myself to 
 thee. Help me so to direct my thoughts that 
 they may strengthen all my principles, that they 
 may make clear the way that lies before me. 
 May I feel that I am not alone, that there is with 
 me One higher than I am, who can give strength 
 to my weakness. 
 
 Lead me in the way that opens before me the 
 coming week. Keep me from temptation. De- 
 liver me from selfishness, from vanity. Make 
 me more careful of others, less thoughtful of 
 myself. Bless thou my friends in their coming 
 and their going, that we may always be near 
 each other in our love for thee. 
 
 And let the remembrance of the example of 
 Christ animate me to good works and to a holier 
 
72 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 life. I ask in the name and as the disciple of 
 Jesus Christ, through whom I would ascribe all 
 honor and glory to thee. 
 
 I am so often longing to penetrate into that 
 " misty ground," that faith and not sight must 
 enter upon, and to question of that silent land 
 from which no answer comes to us, that to-day I 
 am going to read a sermon of Bretschneider, a 
 German preacher, that lies before me in the 
 German. This volume of sermons discusses the 
 many questions concerning the future state, 
 and this particular sermon is upon this subject : 
 " Why God has not permitted the souls of the 
 dead to appear to the living, in order to raise 
 the question of the immortality of the soul above 
 all doubt?" 
 
THE SURE WALL. 73 
 
 SERMON. 
 
 BY DR. K. G. BRETSCIINEIDER. 
 
 The present alone shows itself clearly and 
 plainly to man ; the past is dark to him, and the 
 future concealed from him. The images of our 
 own past life with each year disappear more 
 and more. One object after another falls back 
 from the light of certainty into the duskiness of 
 that uncertainty which spreads itself over all past 
 time, and at. the point where our consciousness 
 for the first time, like a spark of light, illumi- 
 nated our being, is lost in deep night. The 
 future is still more hidden from us than the past. 
 The penetration of man can look forward, it is 
 true, a very little way; but this is only a drop 
 in the stream of future events, and all foresight 
 ends with the grave. Beyond this, everything 
 is hidden for us in the deepest darkness. We 
 shall live, we shall meet with our reward ; this 
 we know. But no mortal eye has penetrated 
 that mysterious land of retribution, and never, 
 never to the dead has a return to life been per- 
 mitted, that they might inform us how it is beyond 
 the grave. For all that credulity and supersti- 
 tion have reported, and frequently too, of the re- 
 appearance of the dead, has, on closer proof, been 
 found to be either fraud or delusion. So fruit- 
 
 7 
 
74 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 less has this been, that friends sometimes, while 
 living, have made an agreement that he who 
 should die first should appear again to the other, 
 or give him some sign of his continued existence. 
 Yet never has such a reappearance followed ; the 
 kingdom of the dead is fast closed, and no mor- 
 tal breaks its mysterious seal.' This the unbe- 
 liever seizes upon with avidity ; on this account 
 he triumphs, and laughs at the hope of the believ- 
 er, as a pleasing but groundless fantasy. What- 
 ever there is most convincing that reason, that 
 religion, has to bring forward, he believes he can 
 overthrow with a single word. He says boldly, 
 that if there were an immortality, at least one of 
 the dead would appear again upon earth ; and he 
 declares openly that he shall hold the expecta- 
 tion of immortality as a vain hope, until one of 
 the dead shall have arisen and returned to the 
 land of the living. 
 
 Even the good and the believing cannot, at 
 times, resist the wish that the dead would appear 
 to the living, to make them certain of immortal- 
 ity, by their appearance and assurance of it, and 
 to teach them what is the life after death. They 
 flatter themselves that unbelief would thus be 
 fully confuted, every doubt overthrown, the ne- 
 cessity of a virtuous life incontestably proved, 
 and a general improvement of the human race 
 be certainly brought about. This, too, was the 
 
THE SURE WALL. 75 
 
 hope of the rich man in the instructive parable 
 in to-day's Gospel. But Jesus refuted this, and 
 declared that neither the unbeliever would be- 
 lieve, nor the sinner lay aside his sin, even if the 
 dead should appear, and could and should preach 
 repentance. To convince you of this, my friends, 
 may be difficult. You believe, perhaps, that such 
 appearances must needs bring about a great 
 change. But in truth there would be found 
 neither more belief nor more virtue. "We will 
 now consider this, and for the strengthening of 
 our own faith, and the weakening of such a com- 
 mon objection to the immortality of the soul, we 
 will seek to convince ourselves of the truth of the 
 assurance of Jesus. 
 
 " There was a certain rich man, which was 
 clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sump- 
 tuously every day ; and there was a certain beg- 
 gar named Lazarus, which was laid at his gate, 
 full of sores, and desiring to be fed with the 
 crumbs which fell from the rich man's table ; 
 moreover, the dogs came and licked his sores. 
 
 " And it came to pass that the beggar died, and 
 was carried by the angels into Abraham's bosom. 
 The rich man also died and was buried. 
 
 " And in hell he lifted up his eyes, being in tor- 
 ments, and seeth Abraham afar off, and Lazarus 
 in his bosom. And he cried, and said, Father 
 Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus, 
 
76 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, 
 and cool my tongue ; for I am tormented in this 
 flame. 
 
 " But Abraham said, Son, remember that thou 
 in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and 
 likewise Lazarus evil things ; but now he is com- 
 forted, and thou art tormented. And beside all 
 this, between us and you there is a great gulf 
 fixed ; so that they which would pass from hence 
 to you cannot, neither can they pass to us that 
 would come from thence. 
 
 " Then he said, I pray thee, therefore, father, 
 that thou wouldest send him to my father's house ; 
 for I have five brethren ; that he may testify un- 
 to them, lest they also come into this place of 
 torment. 
 
 " Abraham saith unto him, They have Moses and 
 the prophets ; let them hear them. 
 
 " And he said, Nay, Father Abraham ; but if one 
 went unto them from the dead, they will repent. 
 
 " And he said unto him, If they hear not Moses 
 and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded 
 though one rose from the dead."* 
 
 This parable of Christ's is one of the most 
 instructive found in the Scriptures. It de- 
 scribes a luxurious rich man, who gave him- 
 self up wholly to the enjoyment of the senses, and 
 
 * * Luke xvi. 19 - 81. 
 
THE SURE WALL. 77 
 
 who followed the precept : " Let us eat and drink, 
 for to-morrow we die." But he found it differ- 
 ent in death from what he expected. He had 
 five brothers as dissolute as himself, and given 
 up to like evil ways. He begged that Lazarus 
 might be sent to them to convince them ; that is, 
 by his appearance and his warning, convince 
 them of the continued existence of the human 
 soul, and the retribution of the good and the 
 bad, that so they might repent. For he had the 
 hope, that, at the reappearance of the dead Laza- 
 rus, or any other dead person, they would be so 
 deeply shaken that they would reform, and be- 
 lieve in eternity. Yet Jesus declared that this 
 wish could never be granted, and that its fulfil- 
 ment even would be of no advantage. Certainly 
 there are not few who wish that such an appear- 
 ance of the dead might be possible, and who 
 believe that it would have the weightiest conse- 
 quences for the reformation of mankind, and the 
 confounding of unbelief. 
 
 Yet why has God not permitted that the souls 
 of the dead should appear to the living, to raise 
 the immortality of the soul above all doubt ? 
 
 Our Gospel gives us three reasons why God has 
 not permitted this, where Jesus has declared such 
 appearances to be, first, impossible ; secondly, 
 wholly superfluous; and thirdly, if they were 
 allowed, useless. 
 7* 
 
78 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 In the first place, the Lord pronounces such an 
 appearance impossible. For when the rich man 
 expressed the wish that Lazarus might be sent to 
 him to allay his sufferings, he received for an 
 answer, that there was a great and insurmount- 
 able gulf fixed between the souls of the blessed 
 and the sinful, — that no one could pass to the 
 other, but each must remain in the place that 
 God had set apart for his dwelling. If, then, 
 it is true that spirits cannot leave the place 
 of their reward or punishment, then it is also' 
 clear that they cannot return to the earth, their 
 former dwelling-place, nor appear to mortal eyes 
 in an invisible form. But what Jesus declares 
 here as impossible, the reason also recognizes 
 when it is turned earnestly to the subject.* 
 
 It is, in itself, impossible that the souls of the 
 dead should be seen with our bodily eyes. The 
 soul itself is a spirit, consequently is not visible 
 to the eyes of the body. And allowing that it 
 might be a wholly incorporeal being, but of the 
 finest matter, even then it would still be as in- 
 visible to our eyes as the air, the wind, and so 
 many other invisible, active powers in nature. 
 Thus souls, separated from their bodies, could 
 never become perceptible objects, of our senses. 
 Did we assume that the souls of the dead, when 
 they entered the fields of immortality, were united 
 to new bodies, that were recognizable by our 
 
THE SURE WALL. , 79 
 
 senses, still these bodies, according to the laws 
 of gravity, would be fettered to their dwelling- 
 jplace, and could not forsake it to return to our 
 earth. They would be then again in the con- 
 dition in which they were placed here, where 
 they, on account of their connection with the 
 body, were fettered to this earth, and could not 
 leave it to pass to any other sphere. Also, it 
 appears impossible that a spirit that had passed 
 on to perfection should ever have a desire, volun- 
 tarily, and from his own impulse, to come back 
 to earth again, and to enter again into connection 
 with a world so incomplete. There are exceed- 
 ingly few men who have a desire to begin again 
 their life upon earth. How could an immortal 
 have a longing to return, — voluntarily to come 
 back to the theatre of his earthly incompleteness ? 
 And did he desire it, and were it also possible 
 that he could present himself to our senses, let 
 us ask ourselves whether such a wandering upon 
 our earth can be reconciled with the destiny 
 allotted to the spirits of the blest, and whether 
 souls could ever leave the state of retribution. 
 
 Considered on all sides, the reappearance of 
 the dead seems something impossible. But, al- 
 lowing that their appearing 1 on earth were possi- 
 ble, yet the knowing them again were impossible. 
 We should never be able to convince ourselves 
 that it must really be their persons that we saw. 
 
80 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 We might boldly ask of any one, who desires that 
 the dead should appear again, to specify to us in 
 what manner the dead can and shall convince us 
 that it is he whom we have known in life, and 
 through what means he can impart to us knowl- 
 edge of his own state and that of the dead. It is 
 the body by which we recognize each other here ; 
 but the body which the dead wore in life is 
 mouldering in the grave. How could we recog- 
 nize the souls of our friends ? Perhaps they 
 might unfold to us some peculiarities of their 
 characters. But how insecure is such a sign, 
 and how alike are all human beings in their 
 principles, sentiments, and all that we call char- 
 acter ! Or perhaps they might recall secrets that 
 we are sure were only known to them. But 
 how few men have such secrets ! And who can 
 assure us that a thousand other spirits are not 
 familiar with our secrets ? And who — and this 
 is the most fearful question — who can assure us 
 that other, perhaps hateful spirits, may not in 
 this manner deceive us with vain hopes, or tor- 
 ment us with idle fears ? Then, how could we 
 recognize — through our senses recognize — that 
 an appearance which presents itself to us is truly 
 the soul of a dead man ? 
 
 And how can such a spirit teach us of the fu- 
 ture after death ? Perhaps through words ? But 
 to utter words would require the organs of speech 
 
THE SURE WALL. 81 
 
 of the human body, which the dead no longer 
 possess. They cannot speak in the human way, 
 nor in tones audible to human ears ! How can 
 they, then, communicate with us ? Will they 
 perhaps originate thoughts and sensations direct- 
 ly in our souls, without our perceiving their pres- 
 ence with our senses ? But how should we dis- 
 tinguish between these thoughts and sentiments 
 and our own ? How should we know it is the 
 spirit of the dead that is coming in contact 
 directly with our spirit ? And could we call 
 such a contact, always remaining in mystery, an 
 appearance of the dead ? And would it avail to 
 convert the unbeliever, or strengthen our hope 
 in immortality? 
 
 Thus, considered on all sides, is a reappearance 
 of one who was dead, his recognition too, and the 
 possibility of instruction from him, in itself im- 
 possible and not to be imagined. And with this, 
 experience coincides, which has never been able 
 to produce a single trustworthy example of such 
 an appearance of the spirit. For all supposed 
 experiences of this kind have in the end been 
 recognized as deception or illusion. Even Jesus 
 appeared after his resurrection to his friends, 
 not in the spirit, but in the body ; and it was by 
 this that his trusted friends recognized him. If 
 then the unbeliever, like the rich man in the 
 parable, requires that the dead must appear to 
 
82 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 him before he can believe in immortality, and if 
 the timid wish for such a reappearance, at least 
 to destroy their doubts and to give to sinners a 
 powerful impulse for repentance, then do they 
 demand, do they wish for, something impossible. 
 A demand for the impossible is wrongful, and 
 such a desire for the impossible a folly. 
 
 But such a reappearance of the dead is, sec- 
 ondly, wholly unnecessary and superfluous ; for 
 we have, as Jesus says, or he allows Abraham to 
 say, Moses and the prophets, whom we should 
 listen to ; that is, we have for the immortality of 
 the soul so many weighty proofs, that it needs 
 no further confirmation. It would be super- 
 fluous to discuss here circumstantially the proofs* 
 that reason and revelation present of the certain- 
 ty of immortality. I have only this to offer, that 
 these proofs must be completely satisfactory to 
 us. Let us first look at the proofs of reason. 
 With what right does the unbeliever refuse their 
 issues, with what right does he demand a greater 
 security for the recognition of the senses ? A 
 double power of comprehension is given to man 
 by the Creator, — the senses which are possessed 
 by the body, for the corporal objects of the visi- 
 ble world, and the reason, a power of the soul, 
 for invisible things and for the truths of the un- 
 derstanding. Both of these powers are gifts of 
 the Creator, with like intention, but for different 
 
THE SURE WALL. 83 
 
 aims ; both of them have a similar worth, both 
 give a like certainty and deserve a like confi- 
 dence. It must then be enough for us, if we 
 have for the truth of a thought proofs of reason, 
 and it is plainly a, useless scepticism to desire for 
 objects recognizable by the reason proofs of the 
 senses. We might much sooner trust, nay, firmly 
 believe, the verdict of the reason with regard to 
 invisible things, rather than that of the senses 
 with regard to visible objects. And as we re- 
 quire no proof from reason that the standing 
 corn appears green, although some of infirm eyes 
 may declare that it appears to them red or yel- 
 low ; and as we desire no proof from reason of 
 the existence of very distant visible objects, al- 
 though short-sighted persons may declare they 
 cannot see them ; so little necessity have we to 
 demand a proof to the senses of our continued 
 existence after death, because some whose hearts 
 are diseased by crime, or an evil conscience, or 
 scepticism, will not confide in reason. 
 
 Yet the proofs of reason are not those alone to 
 which we should listen. We have also proofs in 
 the teaching of our Lord. We have countless 
 promises in his divinely attested words ; we find 
 in his own person, in the sublime work of that 
 redemption that he brought about even in his 
 death, and through which the entrance into a 
 blessed eternity is laid open, — we find in his 
 
84 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 glorious resurrection, and in liis ascension to his 
 Heavenly Father, — the most complete surety 
 that we are immortal. Why do we need further 
 witness ? Can anything render it more sure that 
 men are destined for immortality, than that God 
 has sent his own Son to them ? Can anything 
 assure us immortality more certainly, "than that 
 Jesus founded a reconciliation, by which we are 
 saved from an eternal death, and consecrated to 
 an eternal life ? Can a man of dust desire more 
 of his Creator than these securities, — this pledge 
 that we have in Jesus ? 
 
 Yet, if we would desire a proof of immortality 
 through our senses, we have indeed one which 
 more powerfully bears witness to us of immor- 
 tality than even the mysterious appearance of 
 one dead. This is the sight of the immeasurable 
 universe, and the countless glorious dwelling- 
 places which God has created for rational beings. 
 With deep wonder our eyes behold the countless 
 worlds spread abroad through the heavens, which 
 all bear outwardly some similarity to the earth 
 that we inhabit, and clearly are far more splen- 
 did and greater theatres of the majesty of the 
 Creator than the little globe on which we live. 
 But why, my friends, should we need further 
 testimony ? Why must the souls of the dead 
 descend from the abodes allotted to them by 
 divine mercy to assure us that the precious say- 
 
THE SURE WALL. 85 
 
 ing of our Lord Jesus is true, when he says, " In 
 my Father's house are many mansions, — I go to 
 prepare a place for you" ? Do not our delighted 
 eyes behold these heavenly mansions ? Can any- 
 thing from our own being convince us more 
 strongly than their wonderful aspect itself ? 
 
 With what right, then, do the unbelieving 
 demand, and the wavering desire, that the spirits 
 of the dead should secure to us a certainty of 
 immortality ? Have we not the strongest proofs, 
 supported by the view of the visible heavens, 
 which must leave us without a doubt ? 
 
 Yet allowing that we might receive a confirma- 
 tion of our hope in the appearance of the dead, 
 such a reappearance would neither convince' the 
 unbelieving nor reform the sinful ; in consequence, 
 would be wholly useless. The unbelieving and 
 the sinful say only too willingly with the rich 
 man, " If indeed one arose from the dead, and 
 preached us repentance, we would, we must 
 believe ; then should we surely repent." But 
 Jesus declares this is a vain expectation. They 
 hear not, he says, Moses nor the prophets, there- 
 fore they would not believe if one rose from the 
 dead ; that is, if the grounds which reason and 
 revelation give us for immortality have no power 
 over our hearts, then it would make no impres- 
 sion did one come from the dead, to appear to us, 
 and preach to us. And in truth, my brothers, it 
 
86 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 is so. Neither faith nor virtue would gain any- 
 thing by it ; the unbelieving would not be con- 
 verted, nor the sinful reformed. For, granting 
 that it were possible the dead should appear to 
 us, and teach us T yet we should never be certain 
 of these appearances, — r they would lose their 
 power through habit, or the passage of time, and 
 finally would rob our virtue of all which can give 
 it a peculiar worth. 
 
 Never should we be wholly certain that we had 
 not been deceived. We should always doubt 
 whether they truly were the souls of the dead 
 that had appeared to us. This lies in the nature 
 of things. The apparitions of the dead would 
 always retain something mysterious and incom- 
 prehensible in their nature. We can think of no 
 means, as we have before said, by which we could 
 completely convince ourselves that indeed an ap- 
 parition was the spirit of one dead, and nothing 
 could offer us a security that such a spirit truly 
 told us, or could tell us, the truth. Always 
 would such an appearance leave room for scep- 
 ticism ; and even he who would willingly believe, 
 could never bring his convictions to the necessary 
 degree of certainty. What could we indeed ex- 
 pect from such appearances ? How could they 
 disclose convincing facts ? How could they con- 
 vert the unbeliever and the sceptic, when they 
 call in question, or completely reject, much more 
 certain and convincing truths ? 
 
THE SURE WALL. 87 
 
 Yet, granting that it were possible to be snre 
 concerning appearances of this nature, still would 
 they lose all power over the heart, through habit 
 and the passage of time. 'Do you doubt this ? 
 Let us, then, listen to experience. It is gener- 
 ally known and confessed, that the impression 
 that great events produce at first, grows weaker 
 and weaker, and at last disappears. You find 
 examples of this, perhaps, in your own life. 
 Now, should the dead appear but seldom, per- 
 haps but once in a single generation, or but once 
 to one man, the first impression would, it is true, 
 be startling ; but with each month, with every 
 year, it would lose more of its power, and finally 
 produce no more effect. But were such appear- 
 ances something customary, they would have 
 much less influence ; for the most remarkable 
 and extraordinary things become indifferent to 
 us through habit. Knowledge alone — an ac- 
 quaintance with the future, a perception of dan- 
 ger of sin — is certainly not enough, and does not 
 make man prudent. What avails it, if the phy- 
 sician proves ever so clearly to the sensual man, 
 that he is preparing for himself an early grave ? 
 What avails it, if the intemperate man, the glut- 
 ton, the voluptuary, see countless examples of 
 misery before their eyes, to which these vices 
 lead ? What impression does it make upon the 
 spendthrift, when he sees that he is decreasing 
 
88 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 his riches daily, and when he can reckon the day 
 that he shall become poor ? What impression 
 does it make upon the thief, the street-robber, 
 though they see, daily, the gallows before their 
 eyes, and can prophesy their own fate by the 
 example of that of others ? All this avails noth- 
 ing, as experience shows. The first impression 
 disappears by degrees, and is it often repeated, 
 it loses still more its power. Those also who 
 despise the voice of reason and revelation, as 
 well as that of the wisest men and the clearest 
 experience, would neither believe nor be made 
 better, even if one rose from the dead. . 
 
 Imagine, my friends, that you were convincing 
 a company of men who were born blind, of the 
 truth that after death we are to enter into a new 
 and more splendid world, because our Lord has 
 assured us that in his Father's house are many 
 mansions, and that he would prepare a place 
 there, newer and happier. They would doubt, 
 and reply : " How empty is this hope, with which 
 you would console us ! Where are the mansions 
 of heaven of which the Lord speaks ? Are they 
 at hand ? Why have we no perception of them 
 through our senses ? No, we cannot take hold on 
 this hope, until we see and feel these mansions 
 of heaven." Imagine further, that the eyes of 
 those born blind should be opened to sight, and 
 the splendor of the sun and the moon, and of the 
 
THE SURE WALL. 89 
 
 countless stars of night, should suddenly stream 
 upon their eyes. Then would they fall down 
 and worship ; then would they say, " Yes, now 
 my heart believes, for my eyes behold world upon 
 world ! Yes, we are indeed immortal ! " But, 
 my friends, how long would this impression last ? 
 To this give the answer yourselves. In a short 
 time they would look upon the universe quite as 
 indifferently as many an unbeliever and sinner 
 who has beheld it his life long,— - would even 
 doubt like such a one, and need new proofs, as 
 does many a man born with sight. Could you 
 believe that it would be otherwise with the ap- 
 pearing of the dead ? 
 
 But did such appearances truly produce the 
 effect upon the unbelieving and upon sinners 
 which we are so inclined to expect, then would 
 our virtue lose completely all which gives it its 
 peculiar worth. That Divinity which, in our rea- 
 son, by revelation and the sight constantly pre- 
 sented of the world and of heaven, has given so 
 many pledges of his goodness, desires, and justly, 
 a confidence from us in his word, a belief in his 
 promises, — that we should hold as true the word 
 that he has disclosed to us in the Scriptures and 
 by reason, and that we should through faith in 
 these live holily and die consoled. The virtuous 
 whose virtue, the good whose trust proceeds from 
 such a faith, is a true child of God ; his life is a 
 
 8* 
 
90 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 true service of God, for through love of God and. 
 faith in him does he conquer the world, sin, and. 
 death. Without seeking with his eyes for the 
 rewards of the future world, he is virtuous and. 
 trusts it to his Heavenly Father to give him his 
 reward. Without beholding with his eyes the 
 punishments of the future world, he flees the evil 
 because he knows it is against the will of his 
 Heavenly Father. And it is this faith that can 
 make our virtuous acts pleasing to God, and 
 gives them their worth in the eyes of men. But 
 if the dead must first arise from their graves to 
 confirm the word, of God that is in us and the 
 Scriptures, — if we would believe and follow, not 
 the voice of God, but our own eyes and ears, — 
 then would our merit sink away ; our virtue is no 
 longer a service to God, no longer the fruit of a 
 childlike, a God-trusting heart. 
 
 If it is thus in itself impossible that the dead 
 should appear again to the living; if such a re- 
 appearance is wholly superfluous because the 
 hope of immortality has elsewhere sufficient as- 
 surance ; and if it finally would neither convert 
 the unbeliever nor better the sinner, and certainly 
 have no weighty influence, — we see plainly how 
 foolish is the desire for such an appearance, and 
 how groundless it is to consider the want of it an 
 excuse for disbelief in immortality. For to de- 
 sire what is impossible, unnecessary, and useless, 
 
THE SURE WALL. 91 
 
 and to despise what is most worthy of belief and 
 authentic, — this is either folly or wickedness. 
 
 No, my friends, we will not be guilty of this 
 folly Our faith in a life after death has that 
 degree of certainty which is good for us. It is 
 strong enough, this faith, to animate us with a 
 divine spirit, without making us unfit for the 
 concerns of this life ; powerful enough to lift us 
 above the sufferings of this life, without making 
 its joys distasteful to us. More light would daz- 
 zle our understanding, more certainty would rob 
 us of this life's joys. By faith should we live, 
 and not by sight. It doth not yet appear what 
 we shall be ; and it will not appear here. By 
 hope and faith in God shall we train ourselves, 
 and learn obedience. Happy those who under- 
 stand this, and preserve their faith and virtue ! 
 "What they believe here will they some time be- 
 hold with their eyes ; what they strive after, they 
 will attain ; what they hope for will become cer- 
 tainty. For never, never can it deceive, — the 
 promise in us and that in the Gospel. Both 
 come from God, and God is truth ! 
 
92 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 " In the day when I cried thou answeredst me, and strengthenedst 
 me with strength in my soul." — Psalm cxxxviii. 3. 
 
 Saviour ! beneath thy yoke 
 
 My wayward heart doth pine, 
 All unaccustomed to the stroke 
 Of love divine ; 
 Thy chastisements, my God, are hard to bear, 
 Thy cross is heavy for frail flesh to wear. 
 
 " Perishing child of clay ! 
 
 Thy sighing I have heard ; 
 Long have I marked thy evil way, 
 How thou hast erred. 
 Yet fear not ; by my own most holy name 
 I will shed healing through thy sin-sick frame." 
 
 Praise to thee, gracious Lord ! 
 
 I fain would be at rest ; 
 O, now fulfil thy faithful word, 
 And make me blest ! 
 My soul would lay her heavy burden down, 
 And take with joyfulness the promised crown. 
 
 " Stay, thou short-sighted child ! 
 
 There is much first to do ; 
 Thy heart, so long by sin defiled, 
 I must renew ; 
 Thy will must here be taught to bend to mine, 
 Or the sweet peace of heaven can ne'er be thine." 
 
THE SURE WALL. 93 
 
 Yea, Lord, but thou canst soon 
 
 Perfect thy work in me, 
 Till, like the pure, calm summer moon, 
 I shine by thee, — 
 A moment shine, that all thy power may trace, 
 Then pass in stillness to my heavenly place. 
 
 "Ah, coward soul! confess 
 
 Thou shrinkest from my cure, 
 Thou tremblest at the sharp distress 
 Thou must endure, — 
 The foes on every hand, for war arrayed, 
 The thorny path in tribulation laid, — 
 
 " The process slow of years, 
 
 The discipline of life, 
 Of outward woes and secret tears, 
 Sickness and strife, — 
 The idols taken from thee one by one, 
 Till thou canst dare to live with me alone. 
 
 " Some gentle souls there are 
 
 Who yield unto my love, 
 Who, ripening fast beneath my care, 
 I soon remove ; 
 But thou stiff-necked art, and hard to rule ; 
 Thou must stay longer in affliction's school." 
 
 My Maker and my King ! 
 
 Is this thy love to me ? 
 O that I had the lightning's wing, 
 
 From earth to flee ! 
 
94 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 How can I bear the heavy weight of woes 
 Thine indignation on thy creature throws ? 
 
 " Thou canst not, O my child, 
 So hear my voice again ; — 
 I will bear all thy anguish wild, 
 Thy grief, thy pain ; 
 My arms shall be around thee day by day, 
 My smile shall cheer thee on thy heavenward way. 
 
 " In sickness, I will be 
 
 "Watching beside thy bed ; 
 In sorrow, thou shalt lean on me 
 Thy aching head ; 
 In every struggle thou shalt conqueror prove, 
 Nor death itself shall sever from thy love." 
 
 O grace beyond compare ! 
 
 love most high and pure ! 
 Saviour, begin, — no longer spare, — 
 
 1 can endure ; 
 
 Only vouchsafe God's grace, that I may live 
 Unto his glory, who can so forgive. 
 
THE SURE WALL. 95 
 
 ON FIDELITY IN SMALL MATTERS.* 
 
 St. Francis of Sales says that great virtues and 
 fidelities in small things are like sugar and salt : 
 sugar is more delicious, but of less frequent use, 
 while salt enters into every article of food. Great 
 virtues are rare : they are seldom needed ; and 
 when the occasion comes, we are prepared for it 
 by everything which has preceded, excited by the 
 greatness of the sacrifice, and sustained either 
 by the brilliancy of the action in the eyes of oth- 
 ers, or by self-complacency in our ability to do 
 such wonderful things. Small occasions, how- 
 ever, are unforeseen ; they recur every moment, 
 and place us incessantly in conflict with our 
 pride, our sloth, our self-esteem, and our pas- 
 sions ; they are calculated thoroughly to subdue 
 our wills, and leave us no retreat. If we are 
 faithful in them, nature will have no time to 
 'breathe, and must die to all her inclinations. It 
 would please us much better to make some great 
 sacrifices, however painful and violent, on con- 
 dition of obtaining liberty to follow our own 
 pleasure and retain our old habits in little things. 
 But it is only by this fidelity in small matters 
 that the grace of true love is sustained and dis- 
 tinguished from the transitory excitements of 
 nature. 
 
 * Fenelon. 
 
96 THE SECOND STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 It is with piety as it is with our temporal 
 goods ; there is more danger from little expenses 
 than from larger disbursements, and he who 
 understands how to take care of what is insig- 
 nificant, will soon accumulate a large fortune. 
 Everything great owes its greatness to the small 
 elements of which it is composed ; he that loses 
 nothing, will soon be rich. 
 
 Consider, on the other hand, that God does not 
 so much regard our actions, as the motive of love 
 from which they spring, and the pliability of our 
 wills to his. Men judge our deeds by their out- 
 ward appearance ; with God, that which is most 
 dazzling in the eyes of man is of no account. 
 What he desires is a pure intention, a will ready 
 for anything, and ever pliable in his hands, and 
 an honest abandonment of self; and all this can 
 be much more frequently manifested on small 
 than on extraordinary occasions ; there will also 
 be much less danger from pride, and the trial* 
 will be far more searching. Indeed, it sometimes 
 happens, that we find it harder to part with a 
 trifle than an important interest ; it may be more 
 of a cross to abandon a vain amusement, than to 
 bestow a large sum in charity. 
 
 We are the more easily deceived about these 
 small matters, in proportion as we imagine them 
 to be innocent, and ourselves indifferent to them. 
 Nevertheless, when God takes them away, we 
 
THE SURE WALL. 97 
 
 may easily recognize, in the pain of the depriva- 
 tion, how excessive and inexcusable were both 
 the use and the attachment. If we are in the 
 habit of neglecting little things, we shall be con- 
 stantly offending our families, our domestics, and 
 the public. No one can well believe that our 
 piety is sincere, when our behavior is loose and 
 irregular in its little details. What ground have 
 we for believing that we are ready to make the 
 greatest sacrifices, when we daily fail in offering 
 the least ? 
 
 It is very touching, — it brings both smile and 
 tear, — to see the eternal hope, which always 
 soars, like a white dove, from under the shadow 
 of every disappointment, so white, so fresh, as if 
 its wings were cleansed anew, in the darkness 
 out of which it came ; the hope that is like 
 a courageous word, like a suddenly thronging 
 thought of spring-time, like a walk in the cool 
 air on an autumn mountain-side ; the hope that 
 something will yet be, that the ocean of futurity 
 is yet filled with pearls for the successful diver, 
 that nature is yet rich, and God lavish, as of old, 
 and one's meed not utterly overdone. — Studies 
 in Religion. 
 
THE THIRD STOEMY SUNDAY. 
 
 THE DAILY BREAD. 
 
 " God could have made all rich, or all men poore, 
 But why he did not, let me tell wherefore : 
 Had all been rich, where then had patience been 1 
 Had all been poore, who had his bounty seen ? " 
 
 Herrick. 
 
THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 THE DAILY BREAD. 
 
 " Give us this day our daily bread." 
 
 All day long I have been sitting by the fire, 
 and, opposite me, that sad form ! She is sleeping 
 now, and the tired body is leaning back for rest ; 
 the poor, pale hands are folded, and a smile of 
 repose lies on the half-closed lips. She has been 
 telling me her story, — she, poor child, still so 
 much younger than I, who has yet lived through 
 a life of so much suffering ! 
 
 I quite forgot the storm that has been all 
 day raging without, that has kept us both at 
 home from church to-day, — I forgot it all in lis- 
 tening to the trouble of her life. She came to 
 me yesterday ; she is to leave me to-morrow, and 
 has administered to me to-day the religious ser- 
 vice that I was not able to seek at the church. 
 I cannot write down all her words, nor linger 
 over all that she told me of her early life. Nor 
 can I write the quiet tone with which all was 
 9* 
 
102 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 told me, — the tone which showed the suffering 
 that was so deep it could not yet be called a past 
 suffering. 
 
 She said : "It was a very pretty home where I 
 lived all my earlier years. And yet, at the time, 
 my sorrow was not very great when I left it. 
 For the sorrow had come before, when my father 
 and my mother left me, one by one, and I was 
 beginning to learn I was to live upon my own 
 responsibilities. It is since then that I have 
 looked back with sorrow upon my early home, 
 and with regret. For though we lived so poorly, 
 as some would think it, yet we lived comfortably. 
 "We did not know what want was, nor unkind 
 treatment, nor harsh words. 
 
 " And since then I have learned to know what 
 the beauty was that surrounded my old home. 
 Small as the windows were, they looked out upon 
 a broad landscape, and on sunrise and sunset. 
 And the little door-yard was small, yet we hardly 
 saw it was fenced in, since there was a grander 
 boundary of mountains around us. But when I 
 left it, there was neither father nor mother to 
 say good-by to, and the few who had been my 
 companions had gone, too, to seek their fortune 
 in larger places, and I was willing to try mine 
 also. 
 
 " I was going to meet my only brother, in New 
 York. He was a carpenter, and had his own 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. . 103 
 
 family to support ; and I was to live with him, 
 and support myself too, with my needlework. 
 This was no hard work for me ; it was what I 
 had all my life been brought up to do. I had 
 been known in our village, young as I was, as a 
 skilful seamstress, and I was very willing to use 
 my own hands for my support, and give my 
 whole day to my work too. 
 
 " And at first we were all successful in our 
 labors ; we lived many years happily together. 
 We were very busy, it is true. We had no time 
 for amusements, we had no leisure, but we had 
 each other, and we had steady work to do, — that 
 was all we asked for. My work was steady in- 
 deed. I sewed all day, and had work to bring 
 home for the evenings ; so, though I loved my 
 brother's children dearly, I had no time to play 
 with them, and teach them to love me. Yet they 
 did love me, without my teaching them. They 
 welcomed me at night, had my supper ready for 
 me, that I might lose no time, and then my lamp, 
 for me to sit by it at work. And they knew how 
 to work too, the older ones and the younger. 
 They helped their mother, took care of each 
 other ; even the smallest could pick up the chips, 
 and fetch little things to help the others. 
 
 " We were very happy then, ' though we had 
 no time to stop and think so. We had no time 
 either to make other friends ; we were happy in 
 
104 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 our work and in each other. And we were try- 
 ing to lay up a little money, and talked over 
 plans of more comfortable days. I did not talk 
 indeed, for I used to talk little in those days. 
 The habit of sitting all day at my work without 
 speaking to any one had led me into the way of 
 shutting myself up in my own thoughts, of listen- 
 ing, perhaps, to others, but never replying in 
 words. It was not I who talked. 
 
 " It was Reuben, at night, when he was rest- 
 ing himself. He would tell over his plans, — of 
 how, some day, he would have laid up money 
 enough to buy the old homestead, the little house 
 under the great elm, — not of much value- to 
 anybody, but he would buy it, and set up a car- 
 penter's shop in our own village. The children 
 liked to hear their father talk in this way, and it 
 was sometimes a Sunday evening's treat to talk 
 over what we would do when we bought the old 
 home again. But Esther, my sister-in-law, was 
 not so hopeful. She thought we ought to be 
 laying up money, indeed. We were very well 
 off, and we ought not to spend all the money we 
 earned now. For there would come worse days, 
 -days when there might be no work to be got, or 
 days of sickness, when there would be no strength 
 for the work, — when money could not be earned, 
 and would be fast consumed. What indeed 
 could we do, if any of us were taken with sick- 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. 105 
 
 ness, unless we had something laid up in store 
 for the medicines and doctor's bills ? So the 
 talk all ended in our all feeling that, while the 
 strength lasted, we must work hard, from the 
 strongest to the smallest, that we must not waste 
 a cent of our earnings, and that we would try 
 hard not to be sick, — perhaps then ! 
 
 "So we worked harder and harder. When 
 the extra holidays came, Reuben found extra 
 work. Some of our neighbors would make ex- 
 cursions into the country these days, and spend 
 some of their earnings in refreshing themselves 
 with country air. And they might have been 
 nearer right than we. Some would lounge away 
 such time in the streets. But Reuben welcomed 
 such days, because in them he could earn more 
 money. And I would take in extra sewing. 
 And Esther taught the children they might en- 
 joy far more what they could earn those days, 
 than what they would spend. 
 
 "Perhaps we were all wrong. But it is hard to 
 know when to stop, when one is working to live. 
 And in the crowded cities there are no lilies for 
 the preacher to point to, and say, ' These toil not, 
 neither do they spin, and yet Solomon in all 
 his glory was not arrayed like one of these.' 
 Nor could we see the free birds of the air whom 
 the Heavenly Father feeds. 
 
 " Yet these days of toil were very happy in 
 
106 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 comparison with the days of sorrow that came 
 after ; for we made a pleasure of our labor, and 
 we had each other, and the children. For the 
 children were always happy : they came home 
 from school every day to work ; but their work 
 was what would be the play to other children, 
 and their voices were always joyous, and their 
 love always fresh. 
 
 " For Esther's forebodings were realized. The 
 days of sickness came. Reuben first was taken 
 with rheumatic fever, and the little savings were 
 very fast exhausted for the necessities that were 
 required for him. And the rest of us must all 
 work harder now that his strong arm was power- 
 less. And the days of anxiety on his account 
 were still heavier. It was very hard to leave him 
 all day, while I sat at my work. My work I could 
 not leave, for every day it grew more and more 
 important to the rest. It was a very sad winter. 
 One of the children, my namesake, was taken 
 sick, and she died. We had want and sorrow to 
 struggle with, but still we tried to strengthen 
 each other. And even that winter I could after- 
 wards look back upon, and recall some of its 
 happiness, because we could console each other. 
 Sickness seemed to have brought us only nearer 
 to each other. It made us more considerate of 
 each other, more kindly to each other's failings. 
 
 " In the spring, Reuben got up from his sick- 
 
^THE DAILY BREAD. 107 
 
 bed. But his power for work was very much 
 gone. He had an offer to move down to one of 
 the Eastern cities, — one which he could not neg- 
 lect. It would be a good home for his family, 
 and, hard as it was to find the money to move 
 away with, it was accomplished at last. Reuben, 
 at first, would have me go with him, but I would 
 not consent. I had plenty of work where I was, 
 and I did not think it safe to leave it. I did not 
 tell him that I had begun to fear my own strength 
 was failing. Yet I knew-it was so. And I did 
 not like to add a weak member to their family. 
 I knew they would manage to get along, and that 
 was all, and it would take me some time to get 
 into regular work, and if then I should give way, 
 I should be nothing but a burden to them. 
 
 " So they went away, and I was left alone. I 
 felt too as if it were a very long parting. For 
 when should we be well enough off to afford to 
 visit each other, and when should we have the 
 time to write to each other ! I shall not tell you 
 all about the time that followed. They were not 
 sorrowful days. I became so used to my own 
 lonely ways, that, as the time passed, it did not 
 seem wearisome to me ; though I think it was 
 not well to have one day pass so like another, 
 to have no one to speak to as I came home and 
 went out. That too was my own fault. I shut 
 myself up in my own little room when I was 
 
108 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 at home, and shunned all acquaintance. There 
 were many other families living in the same house, 
 and many of them would have received me kindly, 
 but I avoided every one. In my lonely life, in 
 this way, I lost my zest for work ; I found I was 
 not earning as much, and my strength was giv- 
 ing way. There was only one family with whom 
 I was friendly ; they lived in a room the door of 
 which I passed every day as I went up to my 
 attic. And frequently, as the door stood open, 
 the mother spoke to me kindly as I passed. This 
 was the way it began, then she asked me to come 
 in, and rest myself as I went up stairs. Till, at 
 last, I did go in ; and finally I often stopped 
 there, and even brought down my light in the 
 evenings, occasionally, to sit and work there. 
 There was only the mother and one son, with 
 two daughters. The girls were a part of the time 
 at work in places, and were not often at home. 
 But the boy was always there. For he was an 
 invalid, and a cripple, confined to his poor bed, 
 and had been so for many years. And so, some- 
 times, I would sit there in the evenings, while 
 the mother had gone out, perhaps with her day's 
 washing, or to carry home her sewing. I could 
 be a companion for Davie, some one whom he 
 could talk to. 
 
 " And how he did talk ! It was better to me 
 than any book to hear him. For, as he was lying 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. 109 
 
 there, he had read many books that kind peo- 
 ple had lent him, and he would tell over what he 
 had read, I think, in a finer way than it was in 
 the books. Such descriptions as he would give 
 of far-away places that he had never seen ! And 
 yet it seemed as if he must be seeing them then, 
 so bright and clear he made them all ! And then 
 he remembered the places he had seen in his 
 well days, when he used, occasionally, to get out 
 into the country. It brought back to me, then, 
 all my early country days, and I did not know 
 before they were so beautiful. And though I 
 could not talk, though I had nothing to tell him 
 that was happy and gay, and though my memory 
 did not know how to paint pictures of any days 
 that were happier, it could give him pleasure to 
 talk to me. I could not answer nor reply, but I 
 could listen. 
 
 " It grew harder for me to go up and down 
 stairs, to go every day to my work ; and my rent 
 was raised, and I could not find a cheaper room, 
 and the earnings grew smaller. Then came the 
 hard days. At first, I did not dare to spend all 
 my money, for I must save some for worse times ; 
 but by and by my savings grew smaller and 
 smaller, — I was spending each day all that I 
 earned. 
 
 " At this time I was working often by day in a 
 large, handsome house in the upper part of New 
 10 
 
110 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 York. I sat there sewing in a beautifully fur- 
 nished room. It was a pleasure merely to sit 
 there. It was Miss Ellen's boudoir, and it opened 
 into larger and more beautiful rooms. All round 
 me were comforts and luxuries. There was noth- 
 ing there that was not beautiful, however useful 
 it might be. The carpet and the chairs and the 
 curtains must match. The little extinguisher 
 on the toilette-table, with its peasant's cap, must 
 match the peasant-girls on the pretty papering. 
 Even the books, whatever they were inside, must 
 lie in bindings that would agree with the colors 
 of the room. There was a profusion of little 
 luxuries on the tables, the use of which I knew 
 not then, nor do I know now. As I passed 
 through the house, I saw other rooms, all fur- 
 nished in the same profuse and tasteful way. 
 There were pictures and statues, and as I passed 
 the breakfast-room door I saw the handsome sil- 
 ver that decorated the table. I dwell on all these, 
 because in those days I dwelt on them, in the 
 sickly state of my mind and body, how mi- 
 nutely ! I compared their excess with my want, 
 this profusion with my destitution ! 
 
 "I sat there one day at work the week that I 
 believed myself starving ! Yes, I had spent my 
 last cent, and I had borrowed my next week's 
 wages, and I had in my home but one crust of 
 bread, that I was saving till I could do without 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. Ill 
 
 it no longer ! And my neighbors, Davie and his 
 mother, they were in as evil a condition. I knew 
 it, though they did not tell me. And still I had 
 the strength to" go to work, and, as I say, I sat in 
 this room so filled with luxuries. 0, it was heaped 
 up with them, so that one could not single out a 
 separate luxury for enjoyment. Like a large 
 bunch of flowers, each one so gorgeous in color, 
 yet each, as it were, so beautiful as to hide the 
 other. I, who have perhaps lived in too great 
 poverty of pleasure, have wondered sometimes if 
 there were not more enjoyment in a single daisy. 
 
 " And there were beautiful flowers in this room, 
 too, and handsome dresses were lying round. It 
 was strange to sit in this profusion, and to be 
 in utter want myself! There was profusion in 
 everything, — in sights, in sounds, in pleasures of 
 every sort. 
 
 " And Miss Ellen herself was tired of the 
 pleasures even. There was a concert and a ball 
 in the evening, and to go to both or either she 
 must give up Miss Heron at the theatre. And 
 she was not sure after all but she should prefer a 
 quiet evening at Mrs. D.'s. A profusion of pleas- 
 ures, and we had not one, — Davie and his moth- 
 er and I ! What would Davie not give to hear 
 that concert, to hear music he had only dreamed 
 of! Poor boy, he had nothing to give ! Yes, in 
 the midst of this excess of pleasure, at times I 
 
112 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 thought Miss Ellen sat as much in want as I ! 
 After all, we had each but one life to live, — I 
 mean our own, whether here or in another world, 
 and the fault and poverty in her own life was the 
 same as that in mine ; we were each living alone, 
 each one too much to herself She little knew 
 the excitement I was going through, so great I 
 could hardly keep quietly at my work. I was to 
 have a dinner. I was to stay that day, and they 
 were to send me up a dinner ! So full, so large 
 it would be, it would serve me for two days, 
 and my poor crust might be saved. The din- 
 ner came, too rich for poor famished me ; yet I 
 could venture to eat some of it. They sent me 
 an orange, — that I could carry away to Davie. 
 
 " So that was not my starving day, though 
 near upon it. Saturday night, as I went home 
 after carrying some work, I passed the shops 
 lighted up, — the confectioners' shops, daintily 
 filled with glittering, tempting luxuries. I saw 
 meat in the butchers' shops, I saw the loaves dis- 
 played in the bakers' windows. I lingered to 
 feast my eyes, since I could satisfy myself no 
 other way, — I with many others. Some of these 
 went in to beg for food, and I watched them 
 eagerly, and saw many turned away, some few 
 treated kindly. I would have liked to have asked 
 for something for Davie, and a selfish want almost 
 led me to ask for myself. The worst day came 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. 118 
 
 on Sunday. I was not unwilling it should be so, 
 for that day I might find some spiritual help. 
 At least, so I thought at first ; but perhaps my 
 accustomed work would have more held up my 
 body. I went to church. ' Give us this day 
 our daily bread.' So did the preacher pray. 
 And did I not, too, earnestly make this prayer, 
 not only for myself, but for those other suffering 
 ones ? i Our daily bread,' — what a rich gift 
 it seemed to me ! Were those who could be al- 
 ways sure of their daily bread, were they con- 
 scious of what a gift it was ? no ! so it seemed, 
 for the preacher in his sermon went on to show 
 that it was not merely the daily bread that was 
 meant in these words. And so too, probably, 
 thought the richly dressed ladies that sat in front 
 of me, who never thought of praying for their 
 daily bread, they who had never felt the want of 
 it. They had indeed, perhaps, other wants. 
 
 " Not merely our daily bread ! But what are 
 we without it ? Where is our strength, our faith, 
 without this daily bread ? Can we even have 
 strength to pray, or faith in God, to pray without 
 it ? Ah ! He who begged us to refuse not the cup 
 of cold water to the little ones, and shared the 
 bread among the suffering multitude, — when he 
 told us to labor not for the meat that perisheth, 
 yet he knew that this gift might be asked from 
 God. ' Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and 
 10* 
 
114 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 his righteousness. And all these things shall be 
 added unto you,' he said. 
 
 " But that day I must pray for my daily bread. 
 It was the only prayer I could utter in faith. 
 Otherwise faith seemed dying out of me. It is 
 little that I can remember of that day. For a 
 little while I seemed upheld in the church by 
 the sound of prayer and praise. I do not know 
 how I reached home again, or how I managed 
 to crawl up the stairs. Visions of plenty were 
 floating before my eyes, — plenty that I could 
 not grasp, — visions of repose in which I could 
 find no soothing then flitted before me. Many 
 strange days of unconsciousness followed. And 
 when I woke to myself, I found I was being 
 cared for. Davie's mother was watching over 
 me, and then I heard that she had done for me 
 what she had never done for herself. She had 
 asked for. help ; she had gone to Miss Ellen to 
 tell her of my case. And Miss Ellen had sent 
 her doctor, and I had been treated with care, and 
 they had brought me food. Miss Ellen had been 
 so shocked. ' Dying of starvation ! It was not 
 possible ! If she had only known ! ' 
 
 " ' If she had only known ! ' Such words I 
 have found myself since saying, when I have been 
 in the condition to help others, — I, who have 
 lived through want and starvation. I have found 
 myself saying, ' If I could only know who they are 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. 115 
 
 that want my help ! ' That is the excuse of those 
 who have the means to help others ; and it is an 
 excuse. For it was, indeed, partly my fault that 
 I had not been willing to share my troubles, — 
 that I had not been brave enough to tell them. 
 0, it does require courage to say to the more for- 
 tunate, I have failed, — I am weak, — I need 
 your strength ! It was partly the fault, too, of 
 those who should have asked me about them, — 
 my employers. It is not enough for them to be 
 just, or even generous, with their wages ; they 
 should give a little more, — some of their friend- 
 ship. A kind, inquiring word would have opened 
 my heart ; it would have helped to give me 
 strength against starvation even. We, working 
 so hard, pining for free air, — it was not merely 
 free air we needed, but freedom in thought, in 
 conversation, in heart. We had no summers in 
 the country, we had no winter-evening concerts ; 
 but some sympathy from those above us would 
 have refreshed us, like the country breeze or the 
 strain of music. And yet it is not my part to 
 blame, for my fault lay that way. I had never 
 cultivated the expression of my sympathy for 
 others. I had always an unwillingness to open 
 myself to others, — to give to or take anything 
 from them. 
 
 " And this I felt when my more prosperous 
 days came. For they did come. I was just re- 
 
116 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 gaining my strength, when I had an unexpected 
 visitor. It was my uncle, my mother's brother, 
 who had been away a long time, no one had 
 known where. He had just returned from Cali- 
 fornia, and he wanted to find some one to enjoy 
 his money with him. 
 
 " So he had found poor me, who was little able 
 to bring him joy or gayety. But it did please 
 him to do me good, — to raise me out of want 
 and destitution into comfort and comparative 
 luxury. He allowed me, too, the great pleasure 
 of giving. Then I found how hard on that side 
 it was to give, and how one wanted more than 
 money in knowing how to give. Even I, who 
 knew so well what want and suffering were, 
 found the difficulties in relieving it, for I had 
 not been educated how to give kind words. 
 
 " 0, there are many of us now suffering in the 
 great cities who have no friend but our work, — 
 who have never learned what it is to talk with 
 others, what it is to be amused. It was very 
 strange to me, to learn the art of pleasure. At 
 the theatre, I saw people enjoy most the repre- 
 sentation of suffering. At least, if they did not 
 enjoy it, why would they have been there ? I 
 had lived too long in sorrow to be made happy 
 that way. Could it give me any pleasure to see 
 the fancied suffering of a young girl on the stage, 
 dying, perhaps, of desertion and neglect, — I, who 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. 117 
 
 had looked upon the reality ? I saw, at musical 
 entertainments, artists who must have gained 
 their power only through toil and suffering. I 
 could think only of this, — I, who had not been 
 educated to love music. Yet I liked the sound 
 of simple music, — music that I could not fancy 
 was the labor of any one, — that was uttered as 
 if it gave pleasure to create it, not as if it were 
 a means of livelihood, the drudgery to earn the 
 daily bread. 
 
 " I did take pleasure in giving! I did not care 
 so much to make large charities, but I liked to 
 give a little to a great many ; and often I could 
 remember the pleasure that some small, unexpect- 
 ed gift could excite in those who were just able 
 to get along. I knew just where the want would 
 weigh, and it was a great happiness to carry the 
 relief. 
 
 " At first I made a mistake. I tried keeping 
 my charities secret. I would see the pleasure I 
 gave, without submitting myself to the gratitude. 
 I saw this was a mistake, and remembered it was 
 a pleasure to give thanks. I felt this when 
 Davie's mother knew, at last, who it was had 
 cared for her girls, and had brought Davie and 
 herself into greater ease. I felt it in Davie's last 
 glances before he died, in his mother's words 
 of true thankfulness, in her pleasure that the 
 last comforts that soothed him, some of the joys 
 
118 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 that helped him forget his pains, were owing 
 to me. 
 
 " There was joy in meeting Reuben again, in 
 seeing him freed from want, his children at 
 school, and in bringing his youngest girl home 
 for my own. It was not boundless wealth that 
 my uncle wanted to share with us. We were 
 helped by the ' little more ' that is longed for by 
 the very poor, the satisfaction of which disap- 
 pears in the superfluity of the very rich. Many 
 joys have gathered round me. Yet I see that the 
 burden I bear now is not different from that I 
 wore in my days of poverty ; it is shutting up my- 
 self in myself, dreaming of doing good to others, 
 sometimes helping them, but seldom by giving 
 my whole self to them." 
 
 This was my sermon for the day, as we sat to- 
 gether before the fire, and the storm raged with- 
 out. I heard more of the sorrows and struggles 
 of my companion's life. Then she was silent. 
 And I leaned back in the comfort of my chair, 
 and thought of the contrast between poor and rich. 
 I looked round upon the luxuries about me, and 
 wondered what was my right to them, while want 
 and suffering waited outside. I thought over my 
 own weakness, my frequent thoughtlessness to- 
 wards those who were dependent upon me, less 
 happy in their circumstances than I. 
 
 And I bent my head in prayer. I prayed that 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. 119 
 
 I might never forget my duty to those so near 
 to me, might never shut them out from my sym- 
 pathy, might never forget to treat kindly and 
 thoughtfully those who might labor for me, — I 
 could bring them pleasure and encouragement : 
 I prayed that I might help the many laborers, the 
 many desolate ones, with whom the earth is full ; 
 that I might bring the cup of cold water even, to 
 one of the little ones. 
 
 What a great favor to ask ! If God would but 
 grant the power, to bring help to the weary, food 
 to the starving ! 
 
 For said Jesus, " Inasmuch as ye have done it 
 unto one of the least of these, ye have done it 
 unto me! " 
 
 In the afternoon my companion asked me to 
 read to her, and begged that I would choose her 
 two favorite passages in the Old and New Testa- 
 ment. This I did, and afterwards she wanted 
 me to read her something more. I had a volume 
 of German sermons, by Tholuck, and read to 
 her some of the subjects of them, that she might 
 herself select one. She chose a sermon on this 
 subject : " Why the Christian should count temp- 
 tation and trial as nothing but joy." 
 
 PSALM xlii. 
 
 As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so 
 panteth my soul after thee, God. My soul 
 
120 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 thirsteth for God, for the living God : when shall 
 I come and appear before God ? My tears have 
 been my meat day and night, while they continu- 
 ally say unto me, Where is thy God ? 
 
 When I remember these things, I pour out my 
 soul in me : for I had gone with the multitude ; I 
 went with them to the house of God, with the 
 voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that 
 kept holyday. 
 
 Why art thou cast down, my soul ? and why 
 art thou disquieted in me ? Hope thou in God ; 
 for I shall yet praise him for the help of his coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 O my God, my soul is cast down within me : 
 therefore will I remember thee from the land of 
 Jordan, and of the Hermonites, from the hill 
 Mizar. 
 
 Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy 
 water-spouts : all thy waves and thy billows are 
 over me. 
 
 Yet the Lord will command his loving-kindness 
 in the daytime, and in the night his song shall 
 be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my 
 life. I will say unto God my rock, Why hast 
 thou forgotten me ? Why go I mourning be- 
 cause of the oppression of the enemy ? As with 
 a sword in my bones, mine enemies reproach me ; 
 while they say daily unto me, Where is thy God ? 
 
 Why art thou cast down, my soul ? and why 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. 121 
 
 art thou disquieted within me ? Hope thou in 
 God ; for I shall yet praise him, who is the health 
 of my countenance, and my God. 
 
 JOHN xiv. 
 
 Let not your heart he troubled : ye believe in 
 God, believe also in me. 
 
 In my Father's house are many mansions : if 
 it were not so, I would have told you. I go to 
 prepare a place for you. 
 
 And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will 
 come again, and receive you unto myself; that 
 where I am, there ye may be also. And whither 
 I go ye know, and the way ye know. 
 
 Thomas saith unto him, Lord, we know not 
 whither thou goest ; and how can we know the 
 way ? 
 
 Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, and the 
 truth, and the life ; no man cometh unto the 
 Father but by me. 
 
 If ye had known me, ye should have known 
 my Father also : and from henceforth ye know 
 him, and have seen him. 
 
 Philip saith unto him, Lord, show us the Fa- 
 ther, and it sufficeth us. 
 
 Jesus saith unto him, Have I been so long time 
 with you, and yet hast thou not known me, Phil- 
 ip ? He that hath seen me, hath seen the Father ; 
 and how sayest thou then, Show us the Father ? 
 
122 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 Believest thou not that I am in the Father, and 
 the Father in me ? The words that I speak unto 
 you, I speak not of myself; but the Father that 
 dwelleth in me, he doeth the works. 
 , Believe me that I am in the Father, and the 
 Father in me : or else believe me for the very 
 works' sake. 
 
 Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believ- 
 eth on me, the works that I do shall he do also ; 
 and greater works than these shall he do ; because 
 I go unto my Father. 
 
 And whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, that 
 will I do, that the Father may be glorified in the 
 Son. If ye shall ask anything in my name, I 
 will do it 
 
 Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto 
 you ; not as the world giveth, give I unto you. 
 Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be 
 afraid. Ye have heard how I said unto you, I 
 go away, and come again unto you. If ye loved 
 me, ye would rejoice, because I said, I go unto 
 the Father ; for my Father is greater than I. 
 
 And now I have told you before it come to 
 pass, that when it is come to pass ye might be- 
 lieve. Hereafter I will not talk much with you ; 
 for the prince of this world cometh, and hath 
 nothing in me. 
 
 But that the world may know that I love the 
 Father; and as the Father gave me command- 
 ment, even so I do. 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. 123 
 
 SERMON. 
 
 BY DR. A. THOLUCK. 
 
 When we meet again after a separation, we ask 
 of each other how the time has been passing since 
 we parted, and the answer is, " Well," if indeed 
 it has gone by and no temptation has tried us. 
 With envy do we look upon the happy ones near 
 us whose tree of life the storms have never shak- 
 en ; with joy do we look back upon a year where 
 the little ship of life has glided gently on over 
 smooth waves ; and what would we not give if we 
 could buy for ourselves such a future even to the 
 end ? This wish, indeed, to rest free from temp- 
 tation, is not to be blamed. Man's nature shrinks 
 and flies from what brings it sorrow and ruin. 
 The Lord of our salvation prayed, "If it be pos- 
 sible, let this cup pass from me," and for us, his 
 brethren, has he placed this prayer on our lips : 
 " Lead us not into temptation." But though 
 the Lord of our salvation prayed, " Father, if it be 
 possible, let this cup pass from me," yet he must 
 needs drink of the cup ; and although we, God's 
 children, pray, " Father, lead us not into tempta- 
 tion," yet is there temptation from within, temp- 
 tation from without, temptation from below, 
 temptation from above. Then must temptation 
 and trial indeed have their good part ; a treasure 
 
124 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 must lie concealed therein for those who know 
 how to hear with them ; for from above, from the 
 Father of lights, come naught but good and per- 
 fect gifts. This light side of temptation let us 
 reflect upon in our devotions of to-day, and at 
 the urgency of the Apostle James in the first 
 chapter of his epistle to the disciples of our 
 Lord : — 
 
 "My brethren, count it all joy, when ye fall 
 into divers temptations." 
 
 Do you understand, this, you upon whom God's 
 hand rests heavily? Do you understand this, 
 children of the world, fearful of sorrow, who are 
 happy when you can cry, " Let us make use of 
 life while it is here " ? " Count it all joy," cries 
 the Apostle, " when ye fall into divers tempta- 
 tions." With what he says here a Paul can 
 sympathize when he cries, " We glory in tribula- 
 tions also " ; and again, " A godly sorrow work- 
 eth repentance to salvation not to be repented 
 of. And the Apostle Peter: " Beloved, think 
 it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is 
 to try you, as though some strange thing hap- 
 pened to you, but rejoice inasmuch as ye are par- 
 takers of Christ's sufferings, that, when his glory 
 shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with ex- 
 ceeding joy." And the Epistle to the Hebrews : 
 " For whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth, and 
 scourgeth every man whom he receiveth. If ye 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. 125 
 
 endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with 
 sons ; for what son is he whom the Father chas- 
 teneth not ? " You see the Scriptures give a 
 different view of sorrow and affliction from that of 
 the carnal man. The Christian, it is true, prays, 
 in a consciousness of his weakness, " Father, lead 
 me not into temptation " ; but when temptation 
 does come, the joy ' of victory flushes his brow 
 while his eyes overflow with tears. 
 
 How it is that the Christian counts his temp- 
 tation as nothing but joy, — let this be the subject 
 of our to-day's consideration. We answer this 
 question when we say, first, he knows whence it 
 comes ; secondly, he knows whither it leads. 
 
 He knows whence it comes ; — from the Father 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ, from the all-powerful, 
 all- wise, all-good Creator of heaven and earth. 
 that those who bear the name of Christians cer- 
 tainly knew all this ! — then a half of the burden 
 of their temptation were taken from them. They 
 know it perhaps, all who dwell far over Christen- 
 dom, but do they believe it also, believe it with 
 undoubting confidence ? That there is an Al- 
 mighty Power that upholds the world and brings 
 forth the little dust that is called man, this they 
 believe indeed. They hear the all-powerful storm 
 that rolls along the wheel of an immeasurable 
 creation ; they hear the step of a giant spirit that 
 strides through the generations of men, and see 
 11* 
 
126 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 that irresistible hand that here calls a world from 
 nothingness, and there extinguishes a sun. But 
 what kind of a power this is, what thoughts. or 
 aims the unknown Almighty Spirit has, — that his 
 power is the power of fatherly wisdom and love, 
 — this is too difficult for them to believe. 0, and 
 this unbelief, indeed, can make every sorrow in- 
 supportable, entering like a little drop unobserved 
 in an ocean. But its waves pour forth from 
 unknown sources, and lead towards a goal that no 
 one knows. 
 
 There are indeed some strong spirits, who with 
 such a faith, when temptation and adversity press 
 upon them, as upon an armed man, are not 
 crushed, but remain standing, like the traveller 
 who covers himself from the raging storm in 
 his mantle, and plants his foot firmly upon the 
 earth. Resignation, so they call the iron shield 
 which they oppose to the arrows that are hurled 
 upon them from distant, unknown heights. Cold 
 and iron, as their hearts, is their consolation. 
 They are often met with in life, these mailed 
 men, whom the fiery trial of the Lord, instead of 
 melting, has changed to stone ; but can it be 
 otherwise, when the power which must try man 
 in the crucible of affliction is not recognized as 
 the power of a fatherly wisdom and loVe ? 
 those of you who have taken to heart the voice of 
 that Son who has made manifest to us the Fa- 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. 127 
 
 ther, — the Father, whom no one has seen but the 
 only-begotten Son who has rested in his bosom, — 
 fall down with blessed thankfulness that ye know 
 that all our temptation is ordered by the wisdom 
 of a father, and is guided by a fatherly love ! It 
 is ordered by the wisdom of a father, and guided 
 by a fatherly love ; for " we know," says the 
 Apostle, " that all things work together for good 
 to them that love God, to them who are the 
 called according to his purpose." The Scrip- 
 tures lead us back to the very origin of eternity 
 before the world's foundation. Then did the 
 Father lay down his purpose to glorify and jus- 
 tify as many of those who became flesh who 
 would receive the word unto blessedness. Could 
 you, Christian brethren, of yourselves, rise to the 
 thought that far on in eternity, when the day of 
 judgment will be held, and the former heaven and 
 earth shall be no more, — that all which then will 
 be fulfilled in you has already, before the founda- 
 tion of the world, been before the eye of God, to 
 whom, as the Scripture says, all his creatures 
 have been known from eternity, and who has 
 chosen you in Christ Jesus ! But so says the 
 Apostle, " Whom he did predestinate, (that is, 
 before the foundation of the world,) them he also 
 called ; and whom he called, them he also jus- 
 tified ; and whom he justified, them he also glo- 
 rified." Do you know this, Christian soul, you 
 
128 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 know also that each one of your temptations, 
 every hou? of sorrow, has been ordered in the 
 eternal plan of that spirit of peace that a divine 
 wisdom and love feels towards you. From eter- 
 nity down, the hour is counted when your temp- 
 tation shall begin ; so is the hour counted when it 
 shall pass away. So are all the bitter drops reck- 
 oned that shall fall into your cup ; so is the 
 measure weighed out how far the scale of afflic- 
 tion shall sink, and it will fall not a finger's breadth 
 farther ! what a thought, consoling beyond 
 all measure, that the Apostle utters, — " He will 
 suffer no one to be tempted beyond that he is 
 able " ! There are moments in life when indeed 
 the pain and agony of temptation reach such a 
 point, that one may think, " Is there one drop 
 more in the cup, I am lost! " Ye who neither 
 know nor believe in the Father of the Lord Jesus 
 Christ, — wherefore do ye know that this drop 
 will not fall ? The very anxiety that it might 
 fall, — and all were then over with you, — this 
 alone agonizes the soul ! O, blessed is the Chris- 
 tian who can believe in the word of inspiration, — 
 " God will not suffer you to be tempted beyond that 
 ye are able " ! You know with confidence, however 
 great struggle the Lord gives, he gives as much 
 power; however great the trial, he gives as much 
 patience. It sounds to you no longer wonderful 
 when the Apostle cries, " My brethren, count it 
 all joy, when ye fall into divers temptations. " 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. 129 
 
 Why lie should consider it as joy, the Chris- 
 tian knows ; for he knows not merely whence the 
 trial comes, but whither it leads him. Diversely 
 as the rounds of the ladder may be placed, it is 
 the declaration of the Holy Scriptures, that trib- 
 ulation is a heavenly ladder, which reaches from 
 earth, where suffering is born, to heaven, in 
 whose blessings it is lost. For Paul says to us, 
 " We glory in tribulations also ; knowing that 
 tribulation worketh patience, and patience expe- 
 rience, and experience hope, and hope maketh 
 not ashamed." And lest any one should doubt 
 of this, God himself has impressed his seal upon 
 it, a convincing seal, — " Because," Paul contin- 
 ues to say, " the love of God is shed abroad in 
 our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given to 
 us." Let us then consider how temptation leads 
 us to that issue, by which our hope maketh not 
 ashamed. That wound must be very deep, that 
 requires the deep cut of the surgeon to heal it. 
 Is this true, how deep must the wound be 
 from which mankind suffers, when we see in 
 what strong expressions the Scriptures speak of 
 the necessity of temptation and sorrow for the 
 purification and perfecting of man ! " He that 
 findeth his life shall lose it, and he that loseth 
 his life for my sake shall find it," says the Sav- 
 iour. " He that taketh not his cross, and fol- 
 io weth after me, is not worthy of me." " For 
 
130 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 every one shall be salted with fire, and every 
 sacrifice shall be salted with salt." Death, the 
 cross, the salt of fire, are the gateways to be 
 entered by every new man who is newly born 
 and fleshly created after the image of God. It 
 were easy indeed, many times, to fancy that there 
 might be smoother ways. Shall not the gentle 
 sunshine which falls upon the rocky valleys of 
 our earthly life, shall not the stream of good and 
 perfect gifts, that, like the torrent from the moun- 
 tain-top, pours down unceasingly from the Fa- 
 ther of lights, — shall not these be able to soften 
 a hard heart ? We have moments in our inner 
 life, hours of a thankful heart tender and ashamed 
 like that of a child, when it seems inconceivable 
 that this is not the case. But, in fact, it is not 
 the case. In the pillars of fire by night must 
 God appear to man, in the cloudy pillar by day 
 he passes by unmarked. Tribulation first teach- 
 es us to know ourselves ; it first teaches us to 
 pray. Therefore does the Christian congrega- 
 tion sing : — 
 
 " Cross, I greet thee from my heart ! 
 Enter, welcome guest ! 
 Pain of thine will bring no smart, 
 Thy burden is my rest ! 
 
 " Christ stands always by his own, 
 His love stands near their fears, 
 By the pathway where the cross 
 They bear with dropping tears." 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. 131 
 
 Therefore does the Christian, congregation be- 
 lieve it, when the Apostle cries, " Count it all 
 joy, when ye fall into divers temptations." 
 
 Temptation and trial teach us to know our- 
 selves. " There was a man in the land of Uz, 
 whose name was Job ; and that man was perfect 
 and upright, and one that feared God, and es- 
 chewed" evil. And there was a day when his 
 sons and daughters were eating and drinking 
 wine in their eldest brother's house. Then came 
 the Sabeans and slew the servants with the edge 
 of the sword ; then fell fire from heaven, and 
 burned the sheep and the servants ; then came 
 the Chaldeans, and carried away the camels ; 
 then came a great wind, from the wilderness, and 
 smote the four corners of the house, and it fell 
 upon the sons and daughters, so that they died. 
 Then Job arose and rent his mantle, and shaved 
 his head, and fell down upon the ground and 
 worshipped, and said, Naked came I out of my 
 mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither; 
 the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; 
 blessed be the name of the Lord. In all this 
 Job sinned not, nor charged God foolishly." 
 
 And who of you thinks not now, that he has 
 seen into the inner soul of this good man ? But, 
 friends, within the inner shrine of a man's heart 
 lies an innermost, and that was not yet disclosed. 
 
 " And Satan answered the Lord and said, All 
 
132 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 that a man hath he will give for his life. But 
 put forth thine hand now, and touch his bone and 
 flesh, and he will curse thee to the face. And 
 the Lord said to Satan, Behold, he is in thine 
 hand ; but save his life. So went Satan forth 
 from the presence of the Lord, and smote him 
 with sore boils from the sole of his foot unto his 
 crown. " Then, then first is the innermost soul 
 unclosed, and you behold him upright towards 
 God. you who foolishly do not desire to know 
 anything of any dark abyss in your hearts, and 
 who fancy your shoulders are strong enough for 
 even the trials of Job, " Ye have not yet resisted 
 unto blood, striving against sin," — so the Apostle 
 cries to you. 
 
 No, a dark recess does every man bear in his 
 heart. From this in the hour of trial rises, first, 
 a doubt of God's word and promise, then a mur- 
 muring against God's will and decree, and deep, 
 deep in the innermost shrine hides at last the 
 worm that whispers, "-Bid God farewell ! " And 
 it is true they are not the thorns of an outward 
 sorrow that make the hours of temptation so bit- 
 ter for the Christian. 0, much sharper and more 
 biting does the anguish feed upon his soul, that 
 the angels of faith, hope, and love forsake him, 
 and that instead he hears the rustling of the wings 
 of the Prince of darkness, — that in his own 
 heart, which would so willingly worship, there 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. 133 
 
 must enter doubt, murmuring, and perverseness 
 towards his God, — this is his sorrow. And so 
 long as just this sorrow and pain have not passed 
 away, so long is help still here. But if this pain 
 dies away, if the soul becomes indifferent to doubt, 
 murmuring, and pride, then all the stars in heav- 
 en disappear ; then is it wholly night, and morn- 
 ing twilight comes perhaps never again. 
 
 In such trials by fire does the Christian learn 
 what he is himself. The opinion that many have 
 expressed is just, that they are the most faithful 
 and the truest servants whom God is wont to try 
 with such severe fires of temptation. But who but 
 these could bear such trial ? Have you not yet 
 been carried into such depths and abysses ? 0, 
 look not upon that of which the holy ones of God 
 speak, as the mere vain image of a dream, but 
 thank the goodness of God, who verifies to you 
 that he tries u no one beyond that he is able." 
 Will you indeed begin, as the Saviour calls it, to 
 "put on the power of the kingdom," — would 
 your Christianity grow more earnest, — then will 
 the time of the trial by fire come for you also ; 
 but fear it not, — then, then will you experi- 
 ence, with all the disciples of the Lord, that the 
 Apostle says with truth, " My brethren, count it 
 all joy, when ye fall into divers temptations." 
 
 Did we, indeed, in the fire of this temptation, 
 learn to know nothing, but ourselves, and the 
 12 
 
134 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 greatness of our power of being tempted, this 
 were something to be complained of. But we 
 learn also in the heat of our temptation to know 
 God, his righteousness, his pity, and his power. 
 
 We learn to know his righteousness. It is true, 
 evil upon earth is not distributed according to the 
 measure of personal guilt. In a. certain measure, 
 each one must partake of the suffering from the 
 guilt of the community, and bear his part of it. 
 Therefore, indeed, is the trial which brings us 
 most sorrow at times not self-incurred. Yet with 
 the evil which he has not called upon his own 
 person, the Christian goes back to his innermost 
 recess, and there becomes aware what he has 
 committed himself. It teaches him, that the sin 
 which can have such evil in its consequences is 
 especially a detestation to God ; and while he feels 
 this freshly, he bows himself in the consciousness 
 of that which in himself is displeasing to the holy 
 God. Yet how many cases there are when the 
 trial which comes upon him comes through his* 
 own guilt! how often they are the sins of 
 youth, which return to rest upon the gray head 
 with a burning heat ! often it is a con- 
 cealed guilt, that no man but yourself — only 
 God — knows ! Men come and show you their 
 sympathy, and weep over you as unfortunate; 
 but you know of the worm that gnaws within, 
 and weep over yourself the repentant tears of 
 
THE DAILY- BREAD. 135 
 
 guilt. So long as your sin did not bring you to 
 judgment, you knew how to speak of the forbear- 
 ing love of God ; now you know that the Apos- 
 tle's saying is true, " Be not deceived, God is 
 not mocked," and " Our God is a consuming 
 fire." young men ! let me for this cause warn 
 you, " Flee the lusts of youth " ; they may other- 
 wise fall upon your head when it is gray, and 
 may bring forth the account when you have but 
 one more step to the judgment. 
 
 In the midst of the proofs of his righteousness, 
 God allows his pity and his power also to be rec- 
 ognized in tribulation. Friends, how many hun- 
 dred times do we repeat, that all that we have are 
 the gifts of his goodness ; but do we inwardly feel 
 what we say once in a hundred times ? Were 
 we inwardly conscious of this, friends ! at every 
 fresh breath we draw from our breast giving us 
 the feeling of life, — did we inwardly recognize 
 it at every glance at the beauty of nature, at the 
 very sight of our home, or farm, or wife, or child, 
 or all that we can call our own, — then our hearts 
 had long ago become temples of God. A man 
 in whom each healthy pulsation, each free breath, 
 awakens the tone of a prayer of thanks, must, 
 under such a constant devotional sounding of 
 bells and singing of praises within, be built up 
 freshly as a man of God. To say that all is a 
 gift of God, and to feel it inwardly, — these are 
 
186 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 two different things, between which often an im- 
 measurable gulf is fixed. . On the bed of sick- 
 ness, when the stifled breast cannot draw a single 
 breath, do you first become inwardly conscious 
 that each fresh draught of breath is a gift of God ! 
 When the death-angel stirs his wings over the 
 soul that is dear to you, do you first learn to 
 know inwardly that this soul was a gift of God ! 
 In temptation, when the time of blessedness in 
 faith, the time of peace in the sonship of God, 
 appears to you like a past dream which you can 
 with difficulty recall, — then first do you inward- 
 ly know that each drop of the peace of God is a 
 gift of God ! For this reason we have seen some- 
 times Christians whom the Lord has led in their 
 lives through very severe trials, who have borne 
 in the end so tender a heart, that at every blade 
 of grass and at every kindly ray of sunlight their 
 eyes overflow on account of the undeserved pity 
 of their God. 
 
 With this pity you can also experience his 
 power. Sometimes it happens that you lie in an 
 abyss, and even the smallest thread is taken away 
 from you on which you can seize and rise again ; 
 and not before you are inwardly conscious that 
 no other hand than that from the clouds can help 
 you, does it bear you upwards to the heights. 
 Then do Christians learn what it is to trust to 
 nothing transitory, then they learn " to hope 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. 137 
 
 when there is nothing to hope, to hold on to the 
 invisible as though the}' beheld it." 
 
 In such trials the soul learns to pray. Alas 
 that man himself is obliged to learn prayer 
 through trial ! What would you think of the 
 child who must first learn by blows to thank and 
 to pray to his father ? With invincible power, 
 like the stream that has been withheld, should 
 prayer break out from the heart of every child of 
 man. Joyous and blest should we exult, that 
 we may venture to speak to Him whom the 
 heaven of heavens cannot contain, and lay our 
 little cares upon the great heart of the Creator of 
 the world. Do you know how I think it would 
 appear if a mortal could not venture to pray ? 
 As if the wide, clear sky of heaven above us 
 through which the eye penetrates as into the 
 sanctuary of God, were covered and hidden with 
 garments of the grave. Both in height and 
 width would the prospect be wanting. how 
 indescribably narrow would it be for man ! Now 
 we are permitted to pray, and lo ! we forget it, 
 and the scourge must first be brandished over us 
 before we think of it. Yes, it is terrible to say 
 that in truth there are men in Christendom who 
 pray only when there is a storm in the heavens. 
 And scarcely has the thunder ceased to resound, 
 when the lips are still, and remain still till a new 
 thunder-bolt rings again. It is a terrible experi- 
 12* 
 
138 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 ence that only the lightning-shafts of heaven are 
 the ladders by which prayer climbs upward to 
 heaven, when it could and should rise by every 
 beam of sunlight that has trickled down from 
 heaven ! But so it is, man learns his dependence 
 upon God and his own guilt first when God ap- 
 pears in the pillars of cloud by night, and I dare 
 to say it certainly of all of us, that trial has first 
 taught us to pray with fervor. If then, as the 
 body is dead without the beating of the pulse, so 
 the soul is dead without prayer ; and if we do not 
 learn to pray without trial and temptation, how 
 then could we do without them ? Who then 
 would not sing to the cross: 
 
 " Cross, I greet thee from my heart ! 
 Enter, welcome guest ! 
 Pain of thine will bring no smart ; 
 Thy burden is a rest ! " 
 
 How shall we not grant that the Apostle is right, 
 who cries to us, " Count it all joy, when ye fall 
 into divers temptations " ? 
 
 But while I now place before you the blessings 
 of trial and temptation, I remember, at the same 
 time, those for whom what is meant by that little 
 word " trial " has remained so far unknown. 
 You believe what I have been preaching to you ; 
 you are inwardly conscious of it ; you have till 
 now learnt to know neither the Lord nor your- 
 selves intimately ; you feel earnestly, " My stony 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. 139 
 
 heart must be crushed : .0 that He would cast me 
 to the ground three times with his all-powerful 
 arm, that so I might become weak and like melt- 
 ing clay in his hands ! " You who are convinced 
 that you need some lightning-bolt to rouse you, 
 some earthquake to shatter the old temples of 
 idolatry, — what must you do ? What does to- 
 day's sermon teach you ? Shall you pray, shall 
 you entreat, " Lord, why so long-suffering ? 
 Chasten me in thine anger ! Haste and send thy 
 lightning and thy thunder ! " I know there are 
 blameless hearts who are many times alarmed at 
 the continued sunshine over their heads. You 
 know the story of Polycrates, of the ring that in 
 despair he sacrificed to the waves of the sea, that 
 he might in one point be unhappy. It is a story 
 full of meaning. There are those among us to 
 whom such thoughts are not unusual. 
 
 And yet, beloved, the Gospel of Jesus Christ 
 offers not the example of Polycrates. It forbids 
 you to hold the scales in your own hand, but rest 
 them rather in God's hand, who can weigh out 
 how much your shoulders can bear, because it is 
 written, " God is faithful, who will not suffer ye to 
 be tempted above that ye are able." If then his 
 thunder-bolt is silent above you, while you upon 
 your knees would pray for it, dear friend ! be 
 only sure that you have not known the fortitude 
 of your own shoulders. Take joyously the happy 
 
140 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 days that He sends you, as the proofs of his for- 
 bearance, and be thankful. Praise and thanks be 
 to God ! We Christians know not a God who is' 
 jealous of the gifts that mortals enjoy ! We only 
 know of a Father in heaven, from whom " cometh 
 every good and perfect gift, with whom is no va- 
 riableness, neither shadow of turning." But, my 
 brothers, we are so placed that with regard to tri- 
 al and suffering not one of us need to be at a loss. 
 It is here, without your needing to seek for it. 
 Could you only take hold of the great idea, that 
 we are all members of one body, and that not a 
 single member can be sick without the whole 
 body suffering with it, then you need not be anx- 
 ious for trial. My dear friends, why do you not 
 make the trials of your suffering' brethren pour 
 own ? Know you not these words : " Who is 
 weak, and I am not weak ? Who is offended, and 
 I burn not ? " Know you not Him who, though 
 in the form of God, took upon him the form of a 
 servant, and humbled himself even to death ; be- 
 cause he, as he himself said, had not come into 
 the world a to be ministered unto, but to minis- 
 ter" ? that we only rightly understood how 
 to make the sorrows of our fellow-men our own, 
 — their outer trial, their inmost suffering, — 
 then should we truly have not the power to com- 
 plain of our want of tribulation. Arise, then, 
 you who are longing for tears, for necessity, 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. 141 
 
 go forth to-day and seek out the weeping ones 
 with whom you can weep, — you will not have 
 far to go ! Yes, if generally among us Christians 
 the weeping and the rejoicing with each other 
 were only more common, then were all the meas- 
 ures of suffering and sorrow more equally allotted 
 among us. And this might easily come to pass, 
 could we truly picture one body in Jesus Christ, 
 and become one the member of the other. While 
 you suffer also in the sufferings of others, you will 
 then also become strong, my beloved, so that 
 your own shoulders will be able to bear the bur- 
 den of sorrow; and if you have thus become 
 strong, the Lord will not remain behind with his 
 wholesome discipline. 
 
 God, come near our hearts and soften them 
 with a love for the suffering ! Give us each day 
 our daily bread, — not for ourselves alone, but 
 that we may feed with it the starving. In trial 
 and temptation thou wouldst bring us near to 
 thee : help us to find thee then ! Let not the 
 trial in our own hearts make us forget those who 
 suffer from earthly wants, but may the cry of the 
 desolate that is sent up to thee reach our hearts 
 also ! In the midst of outward prosperity, and 
 the sunnier life that thou hast given us, we brood 
 over our selfish troubles, and weep the failure of 
 
142 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 our poor ambitions. waken us with a sympathy 
 for the poor and lonely whom thou hast given us 
 to lead into more cheerful ways ! May they teach 
 us our duty here, that we may carry into the 
 by-ways where want and sorrow are dwelling, 
 some of the joy that we have found in the rich 
 gifts that thou hast showered upon us ! 
 
 Bless our homes with the ever-present thought 
 of thee ! Come into our solitude, and strengthen 
 us when we come out from the quiet of prayer, 
 that we may not forget our love of thee, nor of 
 thy children ! 
 
THE DAILY BREAD. 143 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN.* 
 
 God, thy goodness far extends, 
 
 Far as the heavens above are spread, 
 But still in mercy ever bends, 
 
 And gently watches o'er my head. 
 My Shepherd, Lord, my rock, my hill, 
 
 My prayer accept, attend my word ; 
 For I will wait before thee still, 
 
 Till my poor prayer by thee is heard. 
 
 1 ask not for abounding wealth, 
 The treasures of this world below, 
 
 But what thou givest, joy or wealth, 
 
 To feel that all to thee I owe, — 
 Wisdom, an understanding heart, 
 
 To know thee, and thy own dear Son, 
 Who came thy love and truth to impart, 
 
 To know myself, an erring one. 
 
 I pray not for repose or fame, 
 
 Much as for these men toil and sigh, 
 But for a pure and spotless name, 
 
 To lose not, if I live or die. 
 My glory let my duty be, 
 
 My glory in thy holy eye, 
 While love and smiles from pious friends 
 
 To cheer my heart be ever nigh. 
 
 * Gellert. 
 
144 THE THIRD STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 For these, O God, I humbly pray, ■ 
 
 Not for a lengthened life below, 
 Humble, if prospered be my day, 
 
 Brave, if in danger's path I go. 
 Give me but these^ for in thy hand 
 
 My times are held ; thy love alone 
 Sustains my soul ; and let me stand 
 
 Hopeful in death before thy throne. 
 
THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 FORGIVENESS. 
 
 " God, lift me from the power 
 
 Of flesh corruption ; how shall I 
 Bear to be borne along with stainless flower 
 And fleecy cloud on high ! 
 
 " God, lift up unto me 
 
 The sinning heart of human-kind ;. 9 
 How can I nutter down the skies, and see 
 Their errant souls and blind ! 
 
 " Or wrap me in the light 
 
 That folds thy glory's outer zone ; 
 Be thou the sole horizon to my sight, 
 Content in thee alone. " 
 
 H. Alford. 
 
 13 
 
THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 FORGIVENESS. 
 
 The sun rose clearly this morning, on a broad 
 field of pure ice. The hills and the fields were 
 covered with the white, crystal surface. The 
 trees were laden with brilliant hanging icicles. 
 I went to the door, and opened it to look out, 
 and feel the clear, frosty air. I said to myself : 
 
 " Some butterflies of snow may float 
 Down, slowly lingering in the mote ; 
 And silver-leaved and fruited trees 
 Lose not a jewel in the breeze. 
 Frost-diamonds tremble on the glass, 
 Transformed from pearly dew, 
 And silver flowers encrust the grass 
 That gardens never knew." 
 
 But while I stood looking out, a heavy wind 
 rose, bringing dark storm-clouds, and before the 
 end of an hour, again a thick snow was falling ; 
 and by the time the bells were ringing for church, 
 the roads were quite too impassable for me. And 
 again I was alone. 
 
148 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 • 
 
 One can easily see that a solitary life would 
 lead to selfishness. Saintine wrote a story to 
 , prove that the lonely Robinson Crusoe, though 
 ' he might have passed through hours of repent- 
 ance, reached at last a state no higher than that 
 of the brutes. His solitary life made him lose 
 his humanity ; his want of duties to others made 
 him forget the duties owing to himself. The 
 utter deprivation of society, the being denied 
 sympathy or conversation with another, extin- 
 guished all other wants and needs but the phys- 
 ical ones. Instead of being refined, he was bru- 
 tified ; and the late visitors to the solitary island 
 saw its inhabitant flying in terror from the unac- 
 customed sight of men. 
 
 This is not the romantic idea of a Robinson 
 Crusoe life, but it may be a true one. We can 
 see somewhat of the same effect, in a modified 
 degree, with those who live a partially lonely life. 
 They may not lose their refinement of character, 
 because they can carry into their solitude books 
 and a refining education of the mind. But 
 what they gain in individual strength they lose 
 in self-control, in the power of governing them- 
 selves for the sake of yielding to others. We 
 detect in them a selfish fondness of their own 
 ways, an unwillingness to give up to others in 
 the little details of life. And it is the willing- 
 ness to yield in these smaller details that shows 
 
FORGIVENESS. 149 
 
 the influence of a Christian spirit. It is an op- 
 portunity for discipline that one who lives in the 
 midst of his own marked-out ways is ignorant of. 
 
 We return to our homes, tired with some 
 -day's exertion, and find others dependent upon 
 our hearty sympathy, upon our good spirits. We 
 have no time to sit down and nurse our ill-humor. 
 A dispirited word of ours' will throw one, two, or 
 more into melancholy, or set them into a state of 
 irritation and discord. We must exercise a di- 
 rect self-control, thrust away the selfish spirit 
 that would arise, that would lead us to retire 
 within our own troubles, in a fancied hope of 
 rest. 
 
 Or we go to see a friend sometimes, when we 
 are in depression ourselves, and want a sympa- 
 thizing, kind word to excite us. Our burden has 
 grown too heavy for us to bear alone, and now we 
 are going to ask for the assisting hand of a friend. 
 But we are unexpectedly ushered into a sick- 
 room. Instead of finding comfort and cheerful- 
 ness, we are asked to bring it. We must sud- 
 denly control our own sadness in the presence of 
 one who is not able to bear the expression of it. 
 Our own selfish trouble mu§t give way before the 
 trouble of another, and we must give the very 
 solace that we asked for. 
 
 There are very many who will say, that these 
 demands upon our patience have done more to 
 
 13* 
 
150 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 dissipate our selfish troubles than any dwelling 
 upon them, or brooding over them in our quiet 
 thoughts. The effort for exertion has sent away 
 the languor, and given us strength. In the end, 
 we are grateful to the little interruptions that 
 have only disturbed idle dreamings or selfish 
 plans. We have gained the power of being 
 equal to the present moment, which is a glorious 
 victory, even though that demand seemed petty, 
 and the renunciation it required seemed great. 
 
 Sometimes we ask, What right have others to 
 make such demand upon our time, even upon 
 our temper ? We question if it is not an in- 
 fringement upon our liberty. Let us ask our- 
 selves, in turn, if we had this precious liberty of 
 acting unbound by our duties to those around 
 us, should we not use it in limiting ourselves ? 
 We should, for instance, scarcely make a better 
 use of our time. It is very probable that we 
 should give the time we have saved from the 
 demands of friends to idleness, to vanity, and to 
 morbid selfishness. And as for oiir temper, we 
 may be very sure it is of poor metal, if it will not 
 stand the trying, and, sound as it may be, it is of 
 little use if it is kept constantly in the sheath. 
 A few days passed in solitude may convince us 
 of this. There is very little time gained. The 
 lesser, daily acts of life grow up into greater ones, 
 and require more thought and time. Excitements 
 
FORGIVENESS. 151 
 
 that seemed stale and powerless enlarge, in the 
 absence of greater ones, into the great excite- 
 ments of the day, and take their turn in dissipat- 
 ing the thoughts and consuming the time. The 
 hours that are not shut in, and marked by duties 
 that must be paid to others, become common 
 ground, and by and by a waste. Many moments 
 are lost in indecision, many in indolence. More 
 than all, there is wanting the zest that comes 
 from the presence of others, the excitement of 
 seeing others work, as well as their co-operation. 
 We are willing to do quickly what we do for the 
 sake of another, or we finish our own work quick- 
 ly, that we may be ready to help others. 
 
 We are thrown in with many people, some of 
 whom we have chosen for our companions, and 
 some have been thrust upon us. The question 
 arises, Have we duties to perform towards all of 
 these ? Must we show kindness, must we even 
 give up our valued time, our well-laid and con- 
 scientiously approved plans, for the sake of others 
 who happen to be near us, — whom we cannot 
 love, whom we may not even esteem? Those 
 who are filled with a truly Christian spirit are 
 not troubled by this question. They have a love, 
 differing in intensity towards those around them, 
 but sufficiently deep to give them a kindly feeling 
 to all who approach them. It is no constrained 
 smile with which they greet even the least agree- 
 
152 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 able of those who come within their circle. They 
 offer the cup of cold water, without prompting 
 from any but their own thoughtful hearts, even 
 to the very least of the little ones. Whether they 
 are led so to do by the thought that " beings so 
 dear to God, the friends of Jesus, should be treat- 
 ed by us with gentleness," we cannot tell ; we 
 only see that their love comes without restraint, 
 that its expression is free. 
 
 But there are others who have not reached so 
 high a plane, who say conscientiously, that they 
 do not think people indifferent to them have a 
 right to claim their time, and infringe upon their 
 plans. Yet they are willing to acknowledge the 
 beauty of that sacrificing nature, that is willing 
 to give up even cherished time and plans, even a 
 beloved ten minutes' ill-temper and spite, for the 
 sake of those who can give them nothing in re- 
 turn, who have not even thanks for them, or an 
 agreeable word or glance. 
 
 Some say that such concessions are impossible, 
 and require a want of truth. " How cart I ex- 
 press what I do not feel ? " one says ; " I do not 
 love these people, and if I made them think so, I 
 should be untrue." Untrue to what ? To your 
 own false nature ! Do we call a watch true that 
 is five hours behind the time, even if it keeps its 
 minutes and its seconds exact ? You have no 
 right to say that you do not love any one suf- 
 
FORGIVENESS. 153 
 
 ficiently to treat him or her with kindness. If 
 one of " these people " comes within your door, 
 interrupts you even with his presence, your sense 
 of truth does not lead you to push him out of the 
 door ; even your forbearance goes as far as to 
 offer him a chair ! Why not let it lead you a 
 little farther ? If he were asked which he would 
 prefer, he might answer, he would rather be 
 thrust from the door than suffer from your stint- 
 ed politeness, your cold indifference. Your love 
 of truth does not lead you to treat him with 
 blows ; why should it lead you to make him suf- 
 fer from your coldness ? It is your duty to feel 
 kindly towards all who come within your circle, 
 certainly according to the degree of your influ- 
 ence. And if you have not this feeling,- it must 
 be cultivated. After the soil is well prepared by 
 prayer to God that he will send a Christian spirit, 
 the seeds of kindly deeds must be sown, and the 
 increase will come. This doctrine I am often 
 obliged to preach to myself. We are thrown 
 into such superficial relations with others, we 
 are so often shown only their outside, that our 
 duties grow very involved and uncertain. The 
 way becomes clearer, the more we are in the habit 
 of thinking that, besides the outer forms of polite- 
 ness, there is due to every one we meet with a 
 kindly feeling. It becomes the easier, the more 
 we find ourselves prompted by a true Christian 
 
154 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 spirit. And the nearer we draw to others, the 
 more easily do we find something worthy of love, 
 something that comes back in return for what we 
 give, something in response to us, which encour- 
 ages and helps on our effort. » 
 
 I have seen, lately, a discussion upon the words 
 of the Lord's prayer, " Forgive us our trespasses, 
 as we forgive those who trespass against us," 
 questioning if we do not promise in these words 
 more than we can perform. In my mind, there 
 is no difficulty in reading these words literally. 
 Is not every sincere prayer to God as it were a 
 compact with him, in which we would promise to 
 strive to do our part in reaching those blessings 
 for which we pray ? Even the prayer, " God be 
 merciful to me a sinner,'' is a confession of sin, 
 which is at least an approach to repentance. 
 Alas ! " the heartlessness of our prayers is the 
 source of our other infidelities." We pray not 
 to be led into temptation, and pass directly into 
 the scene where we know temptation lies in wait 
 for us. We ask that God's kingdom may come 
 upon earth ; but as soon as our lips have closed 
 upon our prayer, we open our minds to all earth- 
 ly thoughts. We pray ourselves for daily bread, 
 and forget directly those who are suffering for 
 need of it. Yet, at least at that moment when 
 we are asking God to forgive us our trespasses, 
 can we be sufficiently forgiving , to our debtors. 
 
FORGIVENESS. 155 
 
 If not, we may well leave our gift at the altar, 
 and first " be reconciled to our brother, and then 
 come and offer our gift." But if our prayers 
 were hearty, if we often approached God to 
 pray to him for his forgiveness, the more often 
 should we be conscious of our own debts, the 
 more willing to forgive our debtors. The for- 
 giving spirit, instead of being momentary, like 
 our consciousness of our own guilt, would be so 
 constant with us, that we need have no dread in 
 saying, " Forgive us, as we forgive those who 
 trespass against us." It would be a mockery to 
 come to Him to ask for that forgiveness, if our 
 hearts were rankling with ill-feeling towards 
 those indebted to us. At least, in our moments 
 of prayer, let us sweep out and garnish our 
 hearts, to strive to make them more pure, more 
 fit for the invited presence of God. 
 
156 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 CHARITY THE LIFE OF FAITH.* 
 
 " Marvel not, my brethren, if the world hate you. We know that 
 we have passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren." 
 — 1 John iii. 13, 14. 
 
 The clouds that wrap the setting sun, 
 
 When Autumn's softest gleams are ending, 
 
 Where all bright hues together run, 
 In sweet confusion blending, — 
 
 Why, as we watch their floating wreath, 
 
 Seem they the breath of life to breathe ? 
 
 To fancy's eye their motions prove 
 
 They mantle round the sun for love. 
 
 When up some woodland dale we catch 
 _ The many-twinkling smile of ocean ; 
 Or, with pleased ear, bewildered watch 
 
 His chime of restless motion ; 
 Still, as the surging waves retire, 
 They seem to gasp with strong desire ; 
 Such signs'of love old Ocean gives, 
 We cannot choose but think he lives. 
 
 And he whose heart will bound to mark 
 The full bright burst of summer morn 
 
 Loves too each little dewy spark 
 By leaf or floweret worn ; 
 
 Cheap forms and common hues, *t is true, 
 
 Through the bright shower-drop meet his view ; 
 
 * Keble. 
 
FORGIVENESS. 157 
 
 The coloring may be of this earth, 
 The lustre comes of heavenly birth. 
 
 Even so who loves the Lord aright, 
 No soul of man can worthless find 
 
 All will be precious in his sight, 
 Since Christ on all hath shined ; 
 
 But chiefly Christian souls, for they, 
 
 Though worn and soiled with sinful clay, 
 
 Are yet, to eyes that see them true, 
 
 All glistening with baptismal dew. 
 
 Then marvel not, if such as bask 
 
 In purest light of innocence 
 Hope against hope in love's dear task, 
 
 Spite of all dark offence. 
 If they who hate the trespass most, 
 Yet, when all other love is lost, 
 Love the poor sinner, marvel not ; 
 Christ's mark outwears the rankest blot. 
 
 No distance breaks the tie of blood ; 
 
 Brothers are brothers evermore ; 
 Nor wrong nor wrath of deadliest mood 
 
 That magic may o'erpower. 
 Oft, ere the common source be known, 
 The kindred drops will claim their own, 
 And throbbing pulses silently 
 Move heart towards heart by sympathy. 
 H 
 
158 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 So is it with true Christian hearts : 
 
 Their mutual share in Jesus' blood 
 An everlasting bond imparts 
 
 Of holiest brotherhood. . 
 O might we all our lineage prove, 
 Give and forgive, do good and love, 
 By soft endearments in kind strife 
 Lightening the load of daily life ! t 
 
 There is much need, for not as yet 
 
 Are we in shelter or repose ; 
 The holy house is still beset 
 
 With leaguer of stern foes ; 
 Wild thoughts within, bad men without, 
 All evil spirits round about 
 Are banded in unblest device 
 To spoil Love's earthly paradise. 
 
 Then draw we nearer day by day, 
 
 Each to his brethren, all to God ; 
 Let the world take us as she may, 
 We must not change our road ; 
 Not wondering, though in grief, to find 
 The martyr's foe still keep her mind, 
 But fixed to hold Love's banner fast, 
 And by submission win at last. 
 
FORGIVENESS. 159 
 
 SERMON BY REV. W. B. 0. PEABODY. 
 
 HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED. 
 
 " Love your enemies." — Matt. v. 44. 
 
 * I shall ask your attention to these words, not 
 because they are not familiar, for the subject has 
 been often presented. I do it to guard against 
 the limitations of the' meaning of the command 
 by which the spirit of the charge is often explained 
 away. We are all in danger of suiting the pre- 
 cepts of Christianity to our lives, instead of con- 
 forming our lives to the precepts, — instead of 
 raising ourselves up to the standard required, we 
 lower the Standard to our own levels ; a most 
 dangerous proceeding, since it not only pre- 
 vents our doing what is right at the time, but 
 prevents our discerning what is right in future : 
 in truth, the heaviest curse of all wrong-doing is 
 'that it depraves the judgment, it makes us blind 
 to the difference between right and wrong, and 
 thus puts repentance out of our power. 
 
 To prevent our falling into dangerous error on 
 this very practical subject, let us weigh the terms 
 employed in this injunction of our duty. 
 
 Our enemies, who are they ? And the answer 
 probably would- be, Our enemies are those whom 
 we are conscious of hating ; those whom we know 
 we strongly dislike are the persons who are here 
 
160 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 recommended to our regards. But no. If this 
 definition were just, we should all say that we 
 had no enemies ; for no man is ever conscious 
 that he hates another. He knows that he has no 
 satisfaction in meeting another man. He knows 
 that he thinks contemptuously of him; he knows' 
 that his feeling towards him is something quite 
 different from interest or regard. But he does 
 not admit, he does not know indeed, that the 
 savage passion of hatred has any place in his 
 breast. But watch his eye when it" turns toward 
 or turns away from his neighbor, — you will see 
 hatred in its contemptuous glances ; hear his 
 words concerning him, — they are words of scorn 
 and aversion; observe his actions, — you will find 
 that they all express in the most decided manner 
 that bitter hatred which he is not aware he feels. 
 Some would say, — in reply to the question, 
 Who are our enemies ? — they are those who have 
 injured us, and they certainly are included in the* 
 meaning of the words. But that meaning is not 
 broad enough to embrace the whole. There are 
 some who have never injured us, some who 
 have never crossed our path, for whom we enter- 
 tain feelings of dislike. In fact, it is easier to 
 forgive those who have injured us, than those 
 whom we have injured. We do sometimes see 
 those who are kind to men from whom they have 
 suffered wrong ; while it is unusual indeed, per- 
 
FORGIVENESS. 101 
 
 haps impossible, to find one who is ever thor- 
 oughly reconciled to the man whom he has in- 
 jured ; so that the word enemy includes those 
 to whom we have done injury, as well as those 
 who have injured us. 
 
 But we shall see who are the enemies here 
 spoken of better by watching our own feelings, 
 and the unguarded expression of our feelings, 
 than in any other way. Is there any one whom 
 it is unpleasant to you to meet ? He is the enemy 
 whom you are charged to love. Is there any one 
 of whom you are tempted to speak bitterly, con- 
 temptuously, or in words of slight regard ? He 
 is the enemy whom you are commanded to love. 
 Do not look far for the subjects of this kind feel- 
 ing. There is deep hostility often without any 
 declaration of war. A man's foes may be those 
 of his own household. He may be provoked by 
 the different opinions of one, or the cold selfish- 
 ness of another ; the calculating malice of some, 
 and the thoughtless folly of others ; the incon- 
 siderateness of childhood, or the infirmity of old 
 age ; — these and a thousand other influences di- 
 rectly about him may be producing in him those 
 feelings of enmity which we are sternly cautioned 
 against indulging. If there are any, then, at 
 home or abroad, near or distant, who awaken 
 in us unpleasant feelings, we must not say that 
 our feelings are just, for these are the enemies 
 
 14* 
 
162 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 whom we are commanded to love ; — here is our 
 field of duty. 
 
 The next most emphatic word in the command 
 is love. " Love your enemies;" and here the 
 deceitful heart steps in, and says that it cannot 
 really be meant that we should love them. To 
 love is a strong affection, and it cannot he sup- 
 posed that it shall extend to a great variety of 
 objects ; it is reserved for our nearest friends ; it 
 cannot be expanded to embrace the whole human 
 race in its arms. In reply to this it is only 
 necessary to say, that the word love means some- 
 thing, — something must be done within us in 
 order to discharge the duty. So then we are not 
 to feel released from the obligation because we 
 cannot give the same measure of affection to all. 
 We are certainly required to love our enemies, 
 and yet the authority that enjoins it is not one 
 that requires unreasonable things. 
 
 In order to determine what this duty is, we 
 must refer to particular cases in which the duty 
 is to be discharged. If, for example, I feel strong 
 resentment at any one on account of injuries he 
 has done me, I must not only suppress, I must 
 dismiss that feeling. I must so far get rid of it 
 as to give him the same interest which I felt be- 
 fore he injured me ; that is, I must not suffer 
 the wrong he has done me to affect my bearing 
 toward him. I must render no protest, under 
 
FORGIVENESS. 163 
 
 no name whatever indulge a passion which would 
 prevent my regarding him as a brother of the 
 family of man. It is not said that I must make no 
 distinction between him and my nearest friends, 
 but that I must act as if I had received no injury 
 at his hand. 
 
 In the same manner are we to reason with re- 
 spect to all toward whom we have any unpleasant 
 feeling. Whether they are at home or abroad, 
 near or distant, we must make it our business to 
 change that feeling into a friendly one, so that 
 instead of being painfully alive to their faults, as 
 we now are, we may be able to see some merits 
 and virtues in them ; and where we now are 
 tempted to make sharp comments on their fail- 
 ings, we may take pleasure in what there is good 
 about them ; and if they are such that charity 
 can say but little in their favor, we may at least 
 keep silence, and leave them to be condemned by 
 other tongues than ours. For this purpose wo 
 must watch the words that spring readiest to our 
 lips ; and if we find them indicating any unkind 
 feeling towards those of whom we speak, we must 
 look to ourselves ; whatever their faults may be, 
 our own hearts are not clear, and all diligence 
 must be applied to reform the bad passion within 
 us before we sit in judgment on other offenders. 
 
 If then I have rightly explained who are meant 
 by our enemies, it is not difficult to see wherein 
 
164 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 this duty consists ; all those towards whom, or 
 concerning whom, we have any contemptuous feel- 
 ing; all those with whose conduct we are dis- 
 pleased, either with or without reason ; all those 
 whose malice or folly offends us ; all those whom 
 we are disposed to shun, — are the objects of this 
 duty. Such persons are always near us and 
 about us ; they may be inmates of our dwellings, 
 they may be connected with us by the ties of 
 nature. But wherever or whoever they may be, 
 we must make it the chief business of our lives 
 to stifle, suppress, and root out this feeling before 
 it grows and spreads, and casts its deathly influ- 
 ence over the better affections ; for any such feel- 
 ing is like deadly nightshade to the soul. 
 
 And now comes the practical question, Can we 
 love our enemies ? Can the duty be done ? 
 
 And the first impulse of the heart is to rise up 
 and say, It is impossible ; the duty cannot be 
 done. But let us reflect what part of our nature 
 it is from which the reply proceeds. Is it from 
 the conscience ? Does the conscience, after hav- 
 ing been deliberately consulted, — does the con- 
 science say that it is impossible ? No, the con- 
 science has not been consulted ; it was the voice 
 of passion that answered ; and the whole mean- 
 ing of it is, that, with our present feelings, we can- 
 riot perform the duty. This is very likely. But 
 what does it prove ? Not that the duty is beyond 
 
FORGIVENESS. 165 
 
 our reach, but only that our present feelings 
 must be altered ; we must be renewed in the spir- 
 it of our minds, and then we may find that the 
 obligation which now seems so far beyond us will 
 oe comparatively easy to perform. But have we 
 a right to pronounce any duty impossible ? Does 
 not God know what we can do, and how much 
 we can bear ? . Impossible the duty cannot be ; 
 for it has been done. Jesus Christ has done it ; 
 some of his followers have done it ; and where 
 there is a true heart and a right spirit it can be 
 done again. 
 
 Perhaps the chief reason why this duty is often 
 thought impossible is this. We think of changes 
 in others, rather than of a change in ourselves. 
 We say, if they would be kind and considerate, if 
 they would lay aside their selfishness, we would 
 give them a place in our regard. And this 
 means, that if there were nothing to forgive, we 
 could forgive them ; we could bear with them, if 
 there were nothing to bear. But this is not the 
 way with Christian duty. But this will not do ; if 
 we wait for all to be such as we should naturally 
 love before we consent to regard them, it is like 
 waiting in a journey for the rivers to run by, be- 
 fore we consent to cross them. We must take 
 mankind as they are ; and if, as we are now, we 
 cannot love them, we must be changed ; we must 
 have more of the spirit of our Master, more of 
 
166 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 the spirit without which we are not for heaven, 
 and heaven is not for us. For to pronounce a du- 
 ty impossible is only saying, in other words, that 
 we are not disposed to do it ; it is a full acknowl- 
 edgment that our religion has made no change 
 within. 
 
 But now the question arises, How shall we 
 bring ourselves to this duty? And clearly the 
 reason of our not doing it now is, that we do not 
 love to love our enemies ; that is, we love better 
 to indulge our present feelings than to make the 
 effort required to change them, we love self-in- 
 dulgence better than duty. And the only reme- 
 dy is to change the present purport and purposes 
 of our lives ; to seek first the kingdom of God ; 
 to put ourselves under his authority, so that his 
 will shall be ours, so that we shall steadily cher- 
 ish such feelings as he enjoins and approves, so 
 that we shall not permit a single feeling which he 
 condemns to have place in our hearts if it can be 
 dislodged by our exertions and our prayers. When 
 this is our purpose and endeavor, it will succeed ; 
 resist the devil, and he will flee from you. The 
 reason these evil spirits harbor within us is, that 
 they find we have no serious- desire, no steadfast 
 determination to drive them away. 
 
 The way to learn this duty is a plain one to 
 those who are disposed to walk in it. It is this. 
 If there are those towards whom you have un- 
 
FOEGIVENESS. 167 
 
 pleasant feelings of resentment, dislike, or sus- 
 picion, — if there are those towards whom you are 
 coldly indifferent even, — for all these are enemies 
 in the sense of inspiration, — instead of keeping 
 away from them, you must make it a point to 
 meet them, to be familiar with their presence, 
 and all the while to make an effort to exercise 
 the feelings of kindness toward them. Be ready 
 to speak to them, if they are not ready to speak 
 to you ; let your bearing towards them be influ- 
 enced, not by their manner towards you, but by 
 your Christian feeling and your sense of duty. 
 Give no utterance to the feeling which their self- 
 ish coldness awakens in you ; resolve that, so 
 help you God, you will be true to the spirit of 
 the Master, and you will carry your point in 
 yourself, if not in them. They, too, will be soft- 
 ened, even if they do not become all you would 
 wish to have them. But however it may be with 
 them, you will find a new sunshine in your heart ; 
 the perpetual gloom that now scowls in your 
 horizon will disappear ; the peace which passeth 
 understanding will prevail in your breast. 
 
 Such is the duty of loving our enemies, and 
 such the way in which it may be done. Many 
 are those toward whom our feeling is to be 
 changed ; near and distant, at home and abroad, 
 we find perpetual subjects of this duty. Let us 
 resolve to perform it, looking unto Jesus, who 
 
168 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. ~ 
 
 endured all manner of hostility and coldness, 
 and answered not again ; or rather, only answered 
 injury with kindness, and enmity with love. 
 
 " He is our pattern ; may we bear 
 More of his gracious spirit here j 
 And may we trace the steps he trod, 
 Which lead to Virtue and to God." 
 
FORGIVENESS. 169 
 
 FIRST EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. 
 
 Chap. xiii. 
 
 Though I speak with the tongues of men and 
 of angels, and have not charity, I am become as 
 sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. And though 
 I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all 
 mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have 
 all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and 
 have not charity, I am nothing. 
 
 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the 
 poor, and though I give my body to be burned, 
 and have not charity, I am nothing. 
 
 Charity suffereth long and is kind ; charity 
 envieth not ; charity vaunteth not itself, is not 
 puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seek- 
 eth not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh 
 no evil ; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in 
 the truth ; beareth all things, believeth all things, 
 hopeth all things, endureth all things. 
 
 Charity never faileth; but whether there be 
 prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be 
 tongues, they shall cease ; whether there be 
 knowledge, it shall vanish away. 
 
 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part ; 
 but when that which is perfect is come, then that 
 which is in part shall be done away. 
 
 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I 
 
 15 
 
170 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 understood as a child, I thought as a child ; but 
 when I became a man, I put away childish things. 
 For now we see through a glass darkly, but then 
 face to face ; now I know in part, but then shall 
 I know even as also I am known. 
 
 And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these 
 three ; but the greatest of these is charity. 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 I pray to thee in faith, God, my dependence ! 
 for when naught else can help me, thou forsakest 
 me never. Thou art ever near to sinners, God, 
 our best portion ! before we cry to thee thou art 
 with us, bringing joy and salvation. Thou know- 
 est, Lord, what casts us down; nothing can 
 escape thee ; before even the sigh is uttered to 
 thee, thy help is already given us. In many a 
 bitter night of misfortune, in pressing danger, thou 
 hast watched over us like a father, and art ever 
 with us. I trust in thee, my shield, in the truth 
 of thy love, which goeth forth ever, and is fresh 
 every day. Thou willingly redeemest thy chil- 
 dren from every pain with a Father's care ; and 
 does any sorrow wound our hearts, thou turnest 
 it to our gain. 
 
 Thou measurest to us in love and kindness 
 
FORGIVENESS. 171 
 
 what is best for us ; thou rewardest, Father, 
 not according to our desert. So I come into thy 
 presence, with joyous confidence, and know thou 
 forsakest not thine own who look up to thee in 
 faith. My heart and soul are ever thine ; what 
 thy love decrees must always be the best ; thou 
 orderest all things well. Not what I will, what 
 thou wiliest, be done ; wisdom dwells alone in 
 thee, in my wish is often folly and crime. There- 
 fore, all that I have and am, my joy and my sor- 
 row, with the humble spirit of a child, do I lay 
 in the heart of the Father. Thy will shall be my 
 will; I live and die in thee, confident and joyous; 
 I sleep and wake, for thou art ever near me. 
 
172 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 " Her sins, which are many, are forgiven ; for she loved much ; but 
 to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little." 
 
 He to whom much is forgiven is not he who 
 has sinned much, but he who feels that the dif- 
 ference among men is not so great as we foolishly 
 imagine, and that one has little glory above an- 
 other, because they all fail of that glory which 
 they shall have in the presence of God ; in short, 
 it is he who feels in his own sin the sin itself, 
 the sins of the whole world, who waters the 
 feet of the Saviour with his tears, who pours out 
 the perfumed ointment of the thankfulness of a 
 humble heart. He to whom little is forgiven is 
 not he who has sinned little, — for who could 
 stand up, and say in truth, I am he ! — but it is 
 he who has made little account of sin, without 
 knowing it, perhaps, because he would not be 
 indebted too much to the mercy of God in Christ. 
 The Pharisee who invited Jesus to his house 
 was such a one; but in the hypocrisy of a cold 
 heart, he still doubted whether he were a true 
 prophet, and was anxious lest too much honor 
 should be shown to the Saviour in his house. 
 
 We are forgiven, and therefore we love ; we 
 ourselves forgive, and for this reason we love ; 
 and for both these reasons are we loved by our 
 brethren. Is the forgiveness on both sides abun- 
 dant, then is the love abundant ; is it little, then 
 
FORGIVENESS. 173 
 
 the love must be little and lukewarm. Yes, that 
 much is forgiven us because we have loved much, 
 that we love little if little is forgiven us, this must 
 we feel in all relations of life. Look upon the 
 dearest and the closest, upon the relations be- 
 tween husband and wife, children, brother, and 
 sister, — those ties by which God has touched 
 our hearts in a peculiar way, and which awaken 
 in us our warmest love. Who are they who, in 
 these relations, can rejoice that they have sinned 
 little, and that little is forgiven them ? Ah, think 
 of life, how it is, with all our changing dispo- 
 sitions, our little injustices, our struggle never 
 to be overcome with selfish humors or weak indo- 
 lence ; and you must confess that to him only is 
 little forgiven who has loved little, who satisfies 
 himself with what can be measured out by some 
 external standard. But he who demands all that 
 the spirit can give in its fulness, which truly only 
 the spirit of love can estimate, — he who from 
 his own impulse extends to every one all that 
 God has given him, — in short, he who loves 
 much, — how often will he find reason to cry 
 out for patience and forbearance, how deeply will 
 he feel that to him much must be forgiven ! But 
 because the inner principle of his loving spirit 
 makes the deepest impression upon all who live 
 with him, — because before this inward principle 
 all unevenness becomes smooth, all disturbance 
 
 15* 
 
174 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 disappears, — for this very reason he finds pa- 
 tience and forbearance, and much is forgiven 
 him because he has loved much. 
 
 And so is it also with all the less close relation- 
 ships among men. He who flatters himself that 
 he stands in nobody's way, that he injures no 
 one, neglects nothing which is laid down in the 
 laws of a moral way of life, — it may well be that 
 he is forgiven little according to his own inter- 
 pretation ; but he also loves little. On the other 
 hand, he who goes forth actively, kindly, to work 
 with living purpose in the life of men, for how 
 many sins of omission, how many moments of 
 slow indifference, of cold reserve, must he re- 
 proach himself ! But if men feel how powerful 
 are his efforts, how much he loves, and loving 
 offers to others, to him will much be forgiven. 
 
 Let us think how the forgiveness of Christ 
 worked upon those dispositions that were subject 
 to it, so that those whose closed eyes he opened, 
 whom he healed from heavy infirmity, even those 
 whom he waked from the body's death, could not 
 be so near to him, cling to him so thankfully, 
 nor enjoy such lasting love, as those to whom he 
 could say, Go, thy sins are forgiven thee. So 
 also with us. All benefits and gifts which we 
 can scatter are less powerful to strengthen the 
 bond of love than this gentle sympathy with the 
 inward spirit, this strengthening forbearance, this 
 
FORGIVENESS. 175 
 
 reconciling support and consolation for the re- 
 pentant and fallen. That was the most beautiful 
 praise of the Saviour, uttered by the prophet of 
 the Old Testament : " The smoking flax shall he 
 not quench, the bruised reed shall he not break." 
 how many like these weak ones do we see 
 around us ! Let us bind fast with tender hand 
 the broken reed, — let us breathe into the expir- 
 ing flame the breath of love, that it may live 
 anew ; so may we come nearer to Him, and feel 
 how blessed are those who deserve to be called 
 his brothers, and that we with truth can cry, 
 " Forgive us, as we forgive." — Schleiermacher. 
 
 How carefully should we cherish the little vir- 
 tues which spring up- at the foot of the cross, 
 since they are sprinkled with the blood of the 
 Son of God. 
 
 These virtues are humility, patience, meekness, 
 benignity, bearing one another's burden, conde- 
 scension, cheerfulness, compassion, forgiving in- 
 juries, simplicity, candor ; all, in short, of that 
 sort. They, like unobtrusive violets, love the 
 shade ; like them, are unstained by dew ; and 
 though, like them, they make little show, they 
 shed a sweet odor on all around. — St. Francis 
 de Sales. 
 
176 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 " A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall 
 not quench." 
 
 Why hast thou, for our earthly gloom, 
 
 Thus left our Father's hall? 
 " Not for the righteous am I come, 
 
 But sinners to recall." 
 
 What bear'st thou from yon desert nook, 
 
 Upon thy shoulders bound ? 
 " A sheep who left my Father's flock, 
 
 Whom I have lost and found." 
 
 What is it wakes the angelic mirth, 
 
 'Mid sons of God in heaven ? 
 " 'T is some poor, sorrowing child of earth, 
 
 Who is of God forgiven." 
 
 What makes the gracious Father rise, 
 
 And hasten from his seat ? 
 " 'T is one in distance he descries, — 
 
 A long lost son, to meet." 
 
 O Thou who seest our secret prayer, 
 
 And every inmost grief, 
 Teach us on thee to cast our care, 
 
 And find in thee relief. 
 
FORGIVENESS. 177 
 
 I read to-day a sermon of Cudworth's, who 
 preached in the days of the Commonwealth and 
 of Charles II. It measures six times the length 
 of the printed sermons of the present day, show- 
 ing greater perseverance in both preacher and 
 hearer than in these latter days. 
 
 EXTRACT FROM RALPH CUD WORTH'S SERMON 
 
 UPON THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY OVER SIN, THE LAW, AND DEATH. 
 
 Some there are who will acknowledge no other 
 victory over sin, but an external one ; that by 
 which it was conquered for us, sixteen hundred 
 years since, by Christ upon the cross ; when he 
 spoiled principalities and powers, and made a 
 show of them openly, triumphing over them in it, 
 " and when he redeemed us from the curse of 
 the law, being made a curse for us." And, 
 doubtless, this was one great end of Christ's com- 
 ing into the world, to make a propitiatory sacrifice 
 for the sins of mankind ; not only that he might 
 thereby put a period to those continually repeat- 
 ed and ineffectual sacrifices of brute beasts, and 
 the offering of the blood of bulls and goats, which 
 could not take away sin, nor propitiate his Di- 
 vine Majesty ; but also that he might, at once, 
 give a sensible demonstration, both of God's high 
 displeasure against sin, and of his placableness 
 and reconcilableness to sinners returning to obe- 
 
178 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 dience ; and therefore to that end, that the de- 
 spair of pardon might not hinder any from re- 
 pentance and amendment of life, he promulgated 
 free pardon and remission of sins, through his 
 blood, to all those who should repent and believe 
 the Gospel. 
 
 But it is a very unsound and unwholesome in- 
 terpretation of this salutary undertaking of Christ 
 in the Gospel, that its ultimate end was to procure 
 remission of sin, and exemption from punishment 
 only, to some particular persons still continuing 
 under the power of sin, and to save them, at last, 
 in their sins, that is, with a mere outward and 
 carnal salvation ; it being a thing utterly impos- 
 sible, that those undefiled rewards of the heavenly 
 kingdom should be received and enjoyed by men 
 in their unregenerate and unrenewed nature. 
 
 For a true Christian, that has anything of the 
 life of God in him, cannot but earnestly desire 
 an inward healing of his sinful maladies and dis- 
 tempers, and not an outward hiding and pallia- 
 tion of them only. He must needs passionately 
 long more and more after a new life and nature, 
 and the divine image more fully formed in him; 
 insomuch, that if; without it, he might be secured 
 from the pains of hell, he could not be fully 
 quieted and satisfied with such security. It is 
 not the effects and consequence of sin only, the 
 external punishment due unto it, from which he 
 
FORGIVENESS. 179 
 
 desires to be freed ; but from the intrinsical evil 
 of sin itself, from the plague of his own heart. 
 As he often meditates with comfort upon that 
 outward cross to which his Saviour's hands and 
 feet were nailed for his sins, so he impatiently 
 desires to feel the virtue of that inward cross of 
 Christ, also, by which the world may be crucified 
 to him and he unto the world ; and to experience 
 the power of Christ's resurrection within him, 
 still to raise him further unto newness of life. 
 Neither will he be more easily persuaded to be- 
 lieve, that his sinful desires, the malignity and 
 violence of which he feels within himself, can be 
 conquered without him, than that an army here 
 in England can be conquered in France or Spain. 
 He is so deeply sensible of the real evil, which is in 
 sin itself, that he cannot be contented to have it 
 only histrionically triumphed over. And to fancy 
 himself covered all over with a thin veil of mere 
 external imputation, will afford little satisfactory 
 comfort unto him that hungers and thirsts after 
 righteousness, and is weary and heavy laden with 
 the burden of sins, and does not desire to have 
 his inward maladies hid and covered only, but 
 healed and cured. Neither can he be willing to 
 be put off till the hour of death, for a divorce 
 between his soul and sin ; nor easily persuaded, 
 that, though sin should rule and reign in him all 
 his life long, yet the last parting groan, that 
 
180 THE FOURTH 'STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 shall divide his soul and body asunder, may have 
 so great an efficacy, as, in a moment also, to 
 separate all sin from his soul. 
 
 The true Gospel righteousness, which Christ 
 came to set up in the world, does not consist 
 merely in outward works, whether ceremonial or 
 moral, done by our own natural power, in our 
 unregenerate state, but in an inward life and 
 spirit, wrought by God. 
 
 But there is a second degree of victory over 
 sin, which every true Christian ought not only to 
 look upon as possible, but also to endeavor after, 
 and ceaselessly to pursue ; which is " such a 
 measure of strength in the inward man," and 
 such a degree of mortification or crucifixion of 
 our sinful lusts, as that a man will not knowingly 
 and deliberately do anything, that his conscience 
 plainly tells him is a sin, though there be never 
 so great temptations to it. 
 
 Wherefore, I demand, in the next place, why 
 it should be thought impossible, by the grace of 
 the Gospel, and the faith of Christ, to attain to 
 such a victory over sin ? For sin owes its origi- 
 nal to nothing else but ignorance and darkness ; 
 every wicked man is ignorant. And, therefore, 
 in that sense, another maxim of the Stoics may 
 have some truth, also, that men sin against their 
 will ; because, if they knew that those things 
 were indeed so hurtful to them, they would never 
 
FORGIVENESS. 181 
 
 do them. Now, we all know, how easily light 
 conquers darkness, and, upon its first approach, 
 makes it fly before it, and, like a guilty shade, 
 seek to hide itself from it, by running round the 
 earth. And, certainly, the light of God, arising 
 in the soul, can with as much ease scatter away 
 the night of sinful ignorance before it. For 
 truth has a cognation with the soul ; and false- 
 hood, lies, and impostures, are no more able to 
 make resistance against the power of truth break- 
 ing forth, than darkness is able to dispute with 
 light. Wherefore, the entrance in of light upon 
 the soul is half a conquest over our sinful incli- 
 nations. 
 
 Again, though sin have had a long and cus- 
 tomary possession in the soul, yet it has no just 
 title, much less a right of inheritance. For sin 
 is but a stranger and foreigner in the soul, an 
 usurper and intruder into the Lord's inheritance. 
 Sin is no nature, as Saint Austin and others of 
 the Fathers often inculcate, but an adventitious 
 and extraneous thing ; and the true and ancient 
 nature of the soul of man, suffers violence under 
 it, and is oppressed by it. It is nothing else but 
 the preternatural state of rational beings ; and, 
 therefore, we have no reason to think it must 
 needs be perpetual and unalterable. Is it a 
 strange thing, that, by the hand of a skilful mu- 
 sician, a jarring instrument should ever be set in 
 
 16 
 
182 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 tune again ? Doubtless, if an instrument of 
 music were a living thing, it would be sensible of 
 harmony as its proper state, and abhor discord 
 and dissonancy as a thing preternatural to it. 
 The soul of man was harmonical as God at first 
 made it ; till sin, disordering the strings and fac- 
 ulties, put it out of tune, and marred the music 
 of it ; but, doubtless, that great Harmostes, who 
 tunes the whole world, and makes all things 
 keep their times and measures, is able to set this 
 lesser instrument in tune again. Sin is but a 
 disease and dyscrasy in the soul ; righteousness 
 is its health and natural complexion ; and there 
 is a propensity in the nature of everything, to 
 return to its proper state, and to cast off what- 
 ever is heterogeneous to it. And some physi- 
 cians tell us, that medicaments are but subser- 
 vient to nature, by removing obstructions and 
 impediments ; but nature itself, and the inward 
 Archasus, released and set at liberty, works the 
 cure. Bodies, when they are bent out of their 
 place, and violently forced out of the natural po- 
 sition of their parts, have a spring of their own, 
 and an inward strong propension to return to their 
 own natural posture, which produces that motion 
 of restitution, of whioh philosophers endeavor to 
 give a reason. Now, sin being a violent and pre- 
 ternatural state, and a sinner's returning to God 
 and righteousness being that motion by which the 
 
FORGIVENESS. 183 
 
 soul is restored to its true freedom and ancient 
 nature, why should there not be such an elater 
 or spring in the soul, (quickened and enlivened 
 by divine grace,) such a natural conatus, of re- 
 turning to its proper state again ? Doubtless, 
 there is ; and the Scripture seems sometimes to 
 acknowledge it, and to call it by the name of 
 spirit, when it speaks of. our free-acting in God's 
 ways, from an inward principle. For the spirit 
 is not always to be taken for a breath or impulse 
 from without ; but, also, for an inward propen- 
 sion of the soul, awakened and revived in it, to 
 return to its proper state, as it is intellectual ; 
 and then to act freely in that state, according to 
 its ancient nature. 
 
 Lastly, we must observe, that, though this in- 
 ward victory over sin be no otherwise attainable 
 than by the spirit of Christ, through faith, and by 
 a divine operation within us ; so that, in a certain 
 sense, we may be said to be passive recipients ; 
 yet we must not dream that our active co-opera- 
 tion and concurrence are not also necessarily re- 
 quired. For as there is a spirit of God in nature 
 producing vegetables and minerals which human 
 art and industry could never be able to effect ; a 
 certain nutritive spirit within, as the poet sings, 
 which yet does not work absolutely, uncondition- 
 ally, and omnipotently, but requires certain prep- 
 arations, conditions, and dispositions in the mat- 
 
184 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 ter which it works upon; (for unless the hus- 
 bandman plough the ground and sow the seed, 
 the spirit of God in nature will not give any in- 
 crease ;) in like manner, the Scripture tells us 
 that the divine spirit of grace does not work in 
 the souls of men absolutely, unconditionally, and 
 irresistibly, but requires in us certain proportions, 
 conditions, and co-operations ; forasmuch, as it 
 may both be quenched, and stirred up or excited, 
 in our souls. And indeed, unless we plough up 
 the fallow ground of our hearts, and sow to our- 
 selves in righteousness, as the prophet speaks, by 
 our earnest endeavors, we cannot expect that 
 the divine spirit of grace will shower down that 
 heavenly increase upon us. Wherefore, if, by the 
 spirit of Christ, we would attain a victory over 
 sin, we must endeavor to fight a good fight, and 
 win a good race, and to " enter in at the strait 
 gate " ; that so, overcoming, we may receive the 
 crown of life. And thus much it shall suffice 
 me to have spoken at this time concerning the 
 first particular, the victory over sin. 
 
 We cannot now but take notice briefly of some 
 errors of those who, either pretending the impos- 
 sibility of this inward victory over sin, or else 
 hypocritically declining the combat, make up a 
 certain religion to themselves out of other things, 
 which are either impertinent and nothing to the 
 purpose, Or else evil and noxious. 
 
FORGIVENESS. 185 
 
 For first, some, as was intimated before, make 
 to themselves a mere fantastical and imaginary- 
 religion; they conceit that there is nothing for 
 them to do but confidently to believe that all is 
 already done for them ; that they are dearly be- 
 loved of God without any conditions or qualifica- 
 tions to make them lovely. But such a faith as 
 this is nothing but mere fancy and carnal imagi- 
 nation, proceeding from that natural self-love 
 with which men fondly dote upon themselves, and 
 are apt to think that God loves them as fondly 
 and as partially as they love themselves, tying his 
 affection to their particular outward persons, to 
 their very flesh and blood ; — thus making God a 
 being like unto themselves, that is, wholly actu- 
 ated by arbitrary self-will, fondness, and partial- 
 ity ; and perverting the whole nature and design 
 of religion, which is not a mere phantastry and 
 historical show, but a real victory over the real 
 evil of sin ; without which neither can God take 
 pleasure in any man's person, nor can there be 
 any possibility of happiness, any real turning of 
 the soul from darkness unto light, from the power 
 of Satan unto God. 
 
 Again, some there are, who, instead of walk- 
 ing in the narrow way which Christ commends, 
 of subduing and mortifying our sinful appetites, 
 make to themselves certain other narrow ways of 
 affected singularity in things which belong not to 
 
 16* 
 
186 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 life and godliness ; outward strictnesses and se- 
 verities t of their own choosing and devising ; and 
 who persuade themselves that this is the strait 
 gate and narrow way of Christ, which leadeth 
 unto life. Whereas, these are indeed nothing 
 else but some particular paths, and narrow slices, 
 cut out of the broad way. For, though they 
 have an outward and seeming narrowness, yet 
 they are so broad within that camels with their 
 burdens may easily pass through them. These, 
 instead of taking up Christ's cross upon them, 
 make to themselves certain crosses of their own ; 
 and laying them upon their shoulders, and'carry- 
 ing them, please themselves with the conceit that 
 they bear the cross of Christ ; while in truth and 
 reality they are frequently too much strangers to 
 that cross, by which the world should be crucified 
 to them and they unto the world. Some place 
 all their religion in endless scrupulosities about 
 indifferent things, neglecting in the mean time 
 the more weighty matters, both of law and gos- 
 pel ; straining at a gnat and swallowing a camel ; 
 that is, not being so scrupulous as they ought to 
 be about the substantial of religion and a good 
 life. For, as we ought not to place the chief of 
 our religion in the mere observance of outward 
 rites and ceremonies, whilst, in the mean time, 
 we hypocritically neglect the morals and substan- 
 tial, which may deservedly be branded with the 
 
FORGIVENESS. 187 
 
 name of superstition ; so, we ought to know that 
 it is equal superstition to have such an abhor- 
 rence of indifferent things as to make it the main 
 of our religion to abstain from them. Both of 
 these argue equal ignorance of the nature of 
 God, as if he were some morose, humorous, and 
 captious being ; and of that righteousness in which 
 the kingdom of God consists ; as if these out- 
 ward and indifferent things could either hallow 
 or defile our souls, or as if salvation and damna- 
 tion depended upon the mere using or not using 
 of them. The Apostle himself instructs us, that 
 the kingdom of God consists no more in uncir- 
 cumcision than in circumcision ; that is, no more 
 in not using outward ceremonies and indifferent 
 things than in using them. 
 
 Wherefore, the negative superstition is equal 
 to the positive. And both of them alike call off 
 men's attention from the main objects of religion, 
 by engaging them overmuch in small and little 
 things. But the sober Christian, who neither 
 places all his religion in external observances, nor 
 yet is super stitiously anti-ceremonial, — as he 
 will think himself obliged to have a due regard to 
 the commands of lawful, authority in adiaphorous 
 things, and to prefer the peace and unity of the 
 Christian Church, and the observation of the 
 royal law of charity, before the satisfaction of any 
 private humor or interest, — so he will be aware 
 
188 THE FOURTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 of that extreme, into which many run, of banish- 
 ing away, quite out of the world, all the solem- 
 nity of external worship, the observance of the 
 Lord's day, and the participation of the Christian 
 sacraments, under the notion of useless ceremo- 
 nies. 
 
 To conclude : unless there be a due and timely 
 regard had to the commands of lawful author- 
 ity, in indifferent things, and to order, peace, 
 and unity in the Church, it may easily be fore- 
 seen, that the reformed part of Christendom will 
 be brought to confusion, and at length to utter 
 ruin, by crumbling into infinite sects and di- 
 visions. 
 
 Wherefore, laying aside these, and similar 
 childish mistakes and things which are little to 
 the purpose, let us seriously apply -ourselves to 
 the main work of our religion ; that is, to mor- 
 tify and vanquish our sinful natures, by the as- 
 sistance of God's Holy Spirit, through faith' in 
 Christ ; that so, being dead to sin here, we may 
 live with God eternally hereafter. 
 
THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 THE CHILDREN. 
 
 Lo, to Thy kingdom here below 
 
 "We little children bring, 
 For to that kingdom such we know 
 
 The meetest offering. 
 
 Let naught alluif them from Thy word, 
 
 Or tempt their spirits frail ; 
 Keep thou their steps, O blessed Lord ! 
 
 Nor let our loved ones fail." 
 
THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 THE CHILDREN. 
 
 Again a stormy Sunday! This is the fifth 
 Sunday that I have been prevented from going 
 to church by the heavy storm. What, indeed, 
 shall we do, we weaker ones, who cannot venture 
 into the storm to find our Sunday food ? If I 
 could only penetrate through the heavy drifts 
 down the hill as far as Mrs. Blake's house, how 
 gladly would I do it ! But George says that it 
 is impossible. Poor Mrs. Blake ! She was telling 
 me only yesterday of the troubles that these 
 stormy Sundays had brought her, with her fam- 
 ily of children. It was so impossible to find any 
 Sunday quiet. All the week she has days of 
 noise and interruption, and is quite dependent 
 upon the rest of the Sunday services for thought, 
 for worship, and for help from the words of the 
 preacher. 
 
 " People," she said, " talk to me of the quiet 
 of a Sunday at home, in preference to church 
 
192 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 worship, and have even wished they might pass 
 it like other days. But I should like to have 
 them find the quiet in a house with three boys 
 from five years old to twelve, and a baby, and 
 three such girls as Isabel and Mary and Clara ! 
 Neither would they like it any better to pass it 
 like other days. Six are enough of that kind. 
 I am preaching to the children all the week, and 
 it is a comfort to go where I can hear some one 
 preach to me, and think of my own sins, and pray 
 for patience ! Discipline I may have enough of, 
 to be sure, all through the week ; but I need 
 teaching, to learn how to turn it in the right di- 
 rection. I need the day of rest to recall to my- 
 self what rest is, to put my thoughts in order." 
 
 I hoped, if there were another stormy Sunday, 
 I might go to Mrs. Blake's to help her through 
 the day with the seven children. But as I can- 
 not reach her, I must help myself with her ac- 
 count of her last stormy Sunday. 
 
 Isabel stood by the window, disconsolate, 
 watching the storm. I am afraid that her dis- 
 appointment was the deeper, because she could 
 not wear her new furs that her grandfather had 
 sent her for a birthday present the day before. 
 I am sorry to confess it ; but Isabel has so much 
 taste about her dress, that perhaps I cannot won- 
 
THE CHILDREN. 193 
 
 dcr if she gives too much thought to it. Clara 
 was sorry that she could n't go out, because she 
 had studied her Sunday-school lesson so very 
 carefully the night before. Generally her Sun- 
 day lesson is left till the morning, and then very 
 hurriedly learned ; but this time she had taken 
 particular pains with it, and now she said, " It 's 
 of no use ; I shall forget it all before next Sun- 
 day." Mary, poor Mary, looked sorrowfully out 
 of the window too. She has been, indeed, a pris- 
 oner all winter, and a stormy day only gives her 
 less to regret without. But a stormy Sunday, 
 with all the children shut inside the house, would 
 be rather a trial for her aching head. She al- 
 ready looked pale and anxious. 
 
 Now what should I do ? Should I declare a 
 truce, and tell the boys that they might play their 
 games just as they would other days ? For more 
 than one reason, — even if one good one were not 
 enough, — I should not have wished to do this. 
 Though I do not like to have the children con- 
 nect a feeling of constraint with the Sundays, I 
 would rather give them early the habit of mak- 
 ing it a different day from others. I would like 
 them to learn it is the day on which they are to 
 do the best things, — "not merely to wear my 
 best things," suggested Clara, when I was once 
 expressing this. 
 
 And even if I had yielded my cherished feel- 
 
194 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 ings on the subject, that I might get along the 
 easiest way I could, there was Mary's headache 
 to be thought of, and she could not bear the noise 
 attendant on the jubilee of " playing on Sunday." 
 And Isabel and Clara were old enough to prefer a 
 quiet time for reading to the noise of the children. 
 
 Harry was permitted to try and shovel away 
 the snow that was banking up the porch, so that 
 his father need not lose his way to the house when 
 he came home. All the smaller boys wanted to 
 go out too. The storm was quite too high for 
 the little things ; the wind would have blown them 
 off the hill. But this they were not willing to 
 believe, and so arose uproar the first. The baby 
 was waked by the noise. The breakfast things 
 were to be washed and put away, for Bridget in- 
 sisted upon her privilege of going out, in spite of 
 the storm, and had started off a little earlier on 
 account of it. It was a moment of discourage- 
 ment. Perhaps it was no great wonder that I 
 looked round and saw only the dark side of 
 everything, — that I thought Isabel was troubled 
 by the disappointment of her vanity, that I gave 
 Clara no better motive, that I saw in Mary irri- 
 tation and peevishness. 
 
 But one should go down into such great depths 
 only to rise up again. I saw that my own dis- 
 couragement was only adding to that of the 
 others, making Mary gloomier, Isabel and Clara 
 more discontented, and the boys more restless. 
 
THE CHILDREN. 195 
 
 " Come," said I, when Harry had given up 
 and come in, u we will have services, and a 
 'meeting' at home. But we shall not any of 
 us be ready for it, unless everybody helps. Har- 
 ry must take the baby, and Clara must get some 
 pillows, and arrange the sofa for Mary to lie down. 
 And Isabel and the boys and I will clear away 
 the breakfast things." 
 
 Presently, I had more hands and feet offered 
 me than were necessary, and some were more in 
 the way than in service. But we only broke one 
 plate among us, and the work was done at last. 
 Then Horace and Willie were very busy in ar- 
 ranging the chairs to look like a " meeting,' * and 
 Isabel was willing to take the baby. She is very 
 successful in taking care of the baby, and lets 
 him pull about her curls as he pleases. Horace 
 took his place in his chair, as if he were promis- 
 ing to be quiet, but a little naughty gleam stole 
 out of the side of his eye. 
 
 But I told the children, — though they seated 
 themselves round me, as though I were the 
 preacher, — that we were not in a church, and 
 would not have services as if we were in a church ; 
 that we had no preacher here to teach us, but, 
 instead, we would try and preach to each other, 
 and each one of us would say something, and 
 take a part in this meeting. I said that we would 
 begin with the youngest, and that Willie should 
 
196 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 read us a hymn, from Mrs. Barbauld's Lessons, 
 the book in which he reads at school every day. 
 
 Isabel did not think much of Willie's reading, 
 and she gave more attention to the baby. But 
 we all thought the reading was better than we 
 expected from the little fellow. And after he 
 had read a few verses, Mary read the rest for him. 
 
 " Can we raise our voices up to the high heav- 
 en ? Can we make Him hear who is above the 
 stars ? Yes : for he heareth us when we only 
 whisper ; when we breathe out words softly with 
 a low voice. He that filleth the heavens is here 
 also. 
 
 " May we that are so young speak to Him that 
 always was ? 
 
 " May we that can hardly speak plain, speak 
 to God ? 
 
 " We that are so young, are but lately made 
 alive ; therefore, we should not forget his form- 
 ing hand, who hath made us alive. We that 
 cannot speak plain should lisp out praises to him, 
 who teacheth us how to speak, and hath opened 
 our dumb lips. 
 
 " When we could not think of him, he thought 
 of us ; before we could ask him to bless us, he 
 had already given us many blessings. 
 
 " He fashioneth our tender' limbs, and causeth 
 them to grow ; he maketh us strong, tall, and 
 nimble. 
 
THE CHILDREN. 197 
 
 " Every day we are more active than the for- 
 mer day ; therefore every day we ought to praise 
 him better than the former day. 
 
 " The buds spread into leaves, and the blos- 
 soms swell to fruit ; but they know not how they 
 grow, nor who causeth them to spring up from 
 the bosom of the earth. 
 
 " Ask them, if they will tell thee ; bid them 
 break forth into singing, and fill the air with 
 pleasant sounds. 
 
 " They smell sweet ; they look beautiful ; but 
 they are quite silent ; no sound is in the still air ; 
 no murmur of voices among the green leaves. 
 
 " The plants and trees are made to give fruit 
 to man ; but man is made to praise God who 
 made him. 
 
 " We love to praise him, because he loveth to 
 bless us ; we thank him for life, because it is a 
 pleasant thing to be alive. 
 
 " We love God, who hath created all beings ; 
 we love all beings, because they are the creatures 
 of God. 
 
 " We cannot be good, as God is good to all 
 persons everywhere ; but we can rejoice, that 
 everywhere there is a God to do them good. 
 
 " We will think of God when we play, and 
 when we work ; when we walk out, and when 
 we come in ; when we sleep, and when we wake, 
 his praise shall dwell continually on our lips'." 
 17* 
 
198 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 Horace was very restless while Willie was 
 reading, and grew red wlien Willie made any 
 mistakes ; but he listened quietly as Mary fin- 
 ished reading the hymn. 
 
 He did not know very well his own Sunday- 
 school lesson, which I asked him to repeat. " It 
 was something about being afraid of God," he 
 said. I should have preferred it, had the lesson 
 taught something about the love of God rather 
 than the fear. Children sometimes learn from 
 these words, " the fear of God," to look upon 
 him with such dread, that they would like to 
 shut him out from their happier moments. In 
 this way they would like to avoid the thought of 
 God ; and when they grow up, are obliged by 
 study to learn to love him. We talked a little 
 about it, and I tried to show to Horace, that, if he 
 were a good child, he need not be afraid of the 
 presence of God. 
 
 Am I wrong, I wonder, in teaching him such 
 a lesson ? Perhaps this restless boy, who may 
 always be rushing into the roads that lead to 
 temptation, — perhaps he will need some greater 
 curb than I am aware of. Alas ! who am I to 
 guide such a mind as his ? Commands often 
 make him defiant, requests often make him mali- 
 cious, and, young as he is, he has learnt some boy 
 notions of making fun of sentiment. Tender 
 words seldom seem to impress him, as far as I 
 
THE CHILDREN. 199 
 
 can tell. All day lie is busy with boyish games. 
 When he is reproved for his mischievous deeds, 
 he looks up with wonder at the reproof, some- 
 times with a smile of superiority, as if he had 
 already — he, the little fellow — thought over 
 the consequences, and were willing to bear the 
 risk. 
 
 I read next a prayer from a little book of 
 prayers belonging to the children. 
 
 " Great and glorious God, who hast made the 
 sun in the skies to give light by day ; thy throne 
 is in the highest heaven, yet thy goodness takes 
 notice of thy creatures on- earth, and thou near- 
 est when children pray to thee. 
 
 " Look down, Lord, and pity me ; for I desire 
 to be heartily sorry that I have so often offended 
 thee, by breaking thy commandments ; and when 
 I am serious, I am grieved to think that I should 
 be so ready to break them again. God of 
 mercy! punish me not as my faults and follies 
 deserve, either in this world, or in the world to 
 come. But when thou bringest pain or trouble 
 upon me, let me be patient under it, and grow 
 better for it. Send thy good spirit into my heart, 
 to subdue my evil inclinations, and form me after 
 the likeness of thy Son, Jesus Christ. Preserve, 
 me from the danger of evil company, and let me 
 choose and love the company of the wise and 
 good ; nor suffer me to waste those hours in 
 
200 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 idleness or play which are allotted for my learn- 
 ing or work. Keep my heart from malice and 
 from evil thoughts. Preserve my tongue from 
 lying and slandering, and all evil words. With- 
 hold my hands from fighting and stealing, and all 
 evil actions. Guard my feet from running into 
 mischief. Let me dwell with my companions in 
 peace and love, and be ready to help them at all 
 times. Let me not dare to sin against thee in 
 secret, remembering that I am always in thy 
 sight. Grant me sufficient food and raiment 
 while I live. Increase my strength daily. Se- 
 cure me from sickness and from death in my 
 younger days, that I may do some service for 
 thee on earth ; and when I die, and my body is 
 carried to the grave, may my soul be taken up to 
 live for ever with thee and with thy Son, Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 " I praise thee, Lord, for all the blessings I 
 have ever received, for they all come from thee. 
 I give thee thanks for my rest the last night, and 
 that I find myself in peace this morning. I bless 
 thee for my sight and hearing; for all my senses 
 and my powers of mind and body ; and, above all, 
 for the words that tell me the life of Christ, and 
 for all the helps that I enjoy in order to the sal- 
 vation of my soul. Let me so carefully fulfil all 
 my duties every day, that I may come with de- 
 light to worship thee when the evening returns. 
 
THE CHILDREN* . 201 
 
 Heavenly Father, accept all my prayers and 
 praises, through Jesus Christ, thy well-beloved 
 Son. Amen. " 
 
 The children were very quiet as I read this 
 prayer, and then Harry said to me his Sunday- 
 school lesson. He had learned this very well, — 
 some answers to questions upon the New Testa- 
 ment. He has a good memory, and these answers, 
 which he had learned last Sunday, he remem- 
 bered very well. He has a careful teacher, too, at 
 Sunday school, who requires that he should learn 
 the meaning of what he is saying, — a very neces- 
 sary thing for Harry, since he so easily learns the 
 words. His lesson was upon the passage where 
 the mother of James and John came to Jesus, to 
 ask that her sons might sit upon his right hand 
 in his kingdom. And Jesus asked them if they 
 would be able to drink of the cup that he should 
 drink of, and be baptized with his baptism. And 
 James and John had promised that they would 
 be able. And Harry had been told by his teach- 
 er to study the lives of James and John, to see if 
 they had performed this promise. And he had 
 found out how James was the first martyr among 
 the twelve Apostles, that he was killed by Herod 
 in Jerusalem ; that John suffered long for the 
 sake of Jesus, and in his long life never forgot 
 his love of Christ. While he had studied about 
 these he had thought of Judas, who died a mis- 
 
202 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 erable death in agony and remorse, because he- 
 had betrayed his Master, and had sold him to his 
 enemies for a few pieces of silver. 
 
 Then Mary repeated a hymn she knew, which 
 is by Keble, on this subject. 
 
 ST. JAMES'S DAY. 
 
 Sit down and take thy fill of joy 
 
 At God's right hand, a bidden guest : 
 Drink of the cup that cannot cloy, 
 
 Eat of the bread that cannot waste. 
 O great Apostle ! rightly now 
 
 Thou readest all thy Saviour meant, 
 What time his grave yet gentle brow 
 
 In sweet reproof on thee was bent. 
 
 " Seek ye to sit enthroned by me ? 
 
 Alas ! ye know not what ye ask ; 
 The first in shame and agony, 
 
 The lowest in the meanest task, — 
 This can ye be ? And can ye drink 
 
 The cup that I in tears must steep, 
 Nor from the whelming waters shrink, 
 
 That o'er me roll so dark and deep ? " 
 
 " We come ; thine are we, dearest Lord, 
 
 In glory and in agony, 
 To do and suffer all thy word ; 
 
 Only be thou for ever nigh." 
 
THE CHILDREN. 203 
 
 " Then be it so : my cup receive, 
 
 And of my woes baptismal taste ; 
 But for the crown that angels weave 
 
 For those next me in glory placed, 
 
 " I give it not by partial love ; 
 
 But in my Father's book are writ 
 What names on earth shall lowliest prove, 
 
 That they in heaven may highest sit." 
 Take up the lesson, O my heart ! 
 
 Thou Lord of meekness, write it there ; 
 Thine own meek self to me impart, 
 
 Thy lofty hope, thy lowly prayer. 
 
 If ever on the mount with thee 
 
 I seem to soar in vision bright, 
 With thoughts of coming agony, 
 
 Stay Thou the too presumptuous flight ; 
 Gently along the vale of tears 
 
 Lead me from Tabor's sun-bright steep ; 
 Let me not grudge a few short years 
 
 With thee toward heaven to walk and weep. 
 
 Too happy, on my silent path, 
 
 If now and then allowed, with thee 
 Watching some placid, holy death, 
 
 Thy secret work of love to see ; 
 But oh ! most happy, should thy call, 
 
 Thy welcome call, at last be given : 
 " Come where thou long hast stored thy all ; 
 
 Come, see thy place prepared in heaven ! " 
 
204 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 Then, as performing my part of the service, I 
 read the following sermon of Dr. Arnold's : — 
 
 CHRIST'S WARNING TO THE YOUNG. 
 
 " Then Jesus, beholding him, loved him, and said unto him, One 
 thing thou lackest : go thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give 
 to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven : and come, take 
 up the cross, and follow me. And he was sad at that saying, and 
 went away grieved; for he had great possessions." — Mark x. 
 21, 22. 
 
 There came a young man to Christ, to ask him 
 what he should do to inherit eternal life ; and 
 Christ named to him some of the ten command- 
 ments, to which the young man replied, " All 
 these have I observed from my youth." Then 
 says the Evangelist, " Jesus, beholding him, loved 
 him." This is, as it were, the first part of the 
 story, and surely this case is very like our own. 
 Are not we here come avowedly to learn of Christ, 
 to be brought up in Christian truths and princi- 
 ples, for this life and for life eternal ? And if 
 Christ were to ask us of our knowledge and of 
 our practice, surely a large proportion of us 
 would be able to answer that they knew the main 
 truths of the Gospel and the main distinctions 
 between good and evil ; and many of us might 
 go further, and say, not indeed that all their com- 
 mon and most obvious duties they had followed 
 from their youth up, but at least that they had 
 
THE CHILDREN. 205 
 
 followed many of them, and desired still to follow 
 them ; that from much evil they had been accus- 
 tomed to shrink, and purposed and hoped to 
 shrink from it still. And so great is the tender- 
 ness of our Lord Jesus Christ to all his people, 
 and especially to the young, that when he sees 
 any of you so living as I have described, living, 
 that is, respectably and amiably, guilty of no 
 gross sins, and doing many duties, loved by your 
 friends, and affectionate to them in return, it is 
 not too much to say that Christ loves you ; that 
 his eye is upon you with a loving anxiety ; that 
 he regards you with nothing of severity nor of 
 threatening, but with an earnest desire that you 
 may become wholly his, and be loved by him 
 for ever. f 
 
 So it is then, so we may venture to apply it, 
 that we stand before Christ to-day. Jesus, be- 
 holding us, loves us. His voice to us is nothing 
 harsh, but full of gracious encouragement; all 
 that there is of good in us he acknowledges, and 
 regards with approbation and love. But let us 
 hear his words, for he speaks to the young man 
 who had just declared that he had constantly kept 
 his commandments, and whom as he beheld him 
 he loved : " One thing thou lackest : go thy way, 
 sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor, 
 and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and 
 come, take up the cross, and follow me." What 
 
 18 
 
206 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 is this when addressed to us ? will he, does he, 
 find that there is one thing which we lack also, 
 and which he bids us without delay to gain ? Or 
 might he say to us that we are all clean, all his 
 true servants, going on from good to better, and 
 lacking nothing at all but that ripeness which 
 added years will not fail to give us ? If our 
 consciences will not suffer us to believe this, 
 then it must be that Christ is saying to us, 
 " One thing thou lackest" ; there may be many 
 things which we lack, but there must at least 
 be one. 
 
 Now the one thing which he sees wanting in so 
 many of us is expressed clearly in the latter part 
 of his words to the young man in the Gospel. 
 He tells us, " Come, take up the cross, and follow 
 me." The words are figurative, we see, when he 
 says, " Take up the cross," and we may ask what 
 the figure means. But we know that, in the 
 Latin language, the term crux, or cross, had been 
 long used to express generally any great pain or 
 evil ; and the words crucio and cruciatus derived 
 from it are yet used only generally ; they do not 
 express literally the pain or suffering of crucifix- 
 ion, but pain and torment simply. And this 
 manner of speaking had come into use, because 
 the Romans used the punishment of crucifixion 
 commonly, not only towards slaves, but towards 
 criminals generally of their subject nations, un- 
 
• THE CHILDREN. 207 
 
 less they were persons of high condition. So that 
 when our Lord tells the young man to take up 
 his cross, it meant exactly, " Bear thy pain or thy 
 suffering, whatever it may be, and follow me." 
 And so he had said in another place, " He that 
 taketh not his cross and followeth after mo, is not 
 worthy of me," — meaning the very same thing ; 
 he who does not submit willingly to his pain or 
 suffering, and continue to follow after me not- 
 withstanding the pain, he is not worthy of me. 
 In both places we see that the taking up the cross 
 is joined with the following after him ; in both 
 places the cross means the same thing, — cruci- 
 atum rather than crucem, — pain, suffering, bur- 
 den, evil hard to bear, let the particular kind be 
 what it may. 
 
 Now to take one of those seeming contradic- 
 tions in the Scriptures, of which I have spoken 
 so often, as containing some of the Scripture's 
 most useful lessons, let us put side by side our 
 Lord's words, " Take up thy cross and follow me," 
 and his other words, " My yoke is easy and my 
 burden is light." In one place he seems to call 
 his followers to the most painful service, in the 
 other to tell them that their pain will be nothing 
 at all. What is now called our cross, that strong 
 term signifying the extremity of pain and suffer- 
 ing, is again called an easy yoke, and a light bur- 
 den. Take them out of their right order, and 
 
208 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. % 
 
 they arc falsehood and death ; take them in their 
 right order and according to Christ's mind, and 
 they are truth and life. 
 
 He calls us to take up our cross and follow 
 him. We were following him, not taking up our 
 cross ; we were following him where to follow 
 him was easy, and it is many times very easy. 
 We loved those who loved us ; we were glad to 
 please them ; it is good and right so to do, but 
 surely not very hard or painful. We abstained 
 from low vices, vices disgusting and discreditable ; 
 good and right also, but surely involving no se- 
 vere sacrifice. We were good-natured and good- 
 humored when we were pleased and happy ; a 
 right temper and an amiable one, but still there 
 is no bearing our cross in this. He beholds us, 
 and loves us, but he calls us to something of a 
 more real service. He says, " You have followed 
 me where it was easy, and you have done well ; 
 but now prepare for something far more trying, 
 — I call you to follow me where it is hard. Be 
 quite sure that there is in you, somewhere or 
 other, a temper or an inclination which does not 
 suit my law. Follow me in this point, and you 
 will know what it is to take up your cross ; fol- 
 low me always, and this point, and many such 
 points, will be found in you.' , It is easy to be 
 temperate in meat and drink when you are nei- 
 ther hungry nor thirsty. It is easy to speak truth 
 
THE CHILDREN. 209 
 
 when the truth is convenient and creditable. It 
 is easy to work when the work to be done is pleas- 
 ant, and when you are strong ; but to be temper- 
 ate always, to speak truth always, to do our ap- 
 pointed, work always, this is -not easy, this is to 
 bear our cross. And here, in how many points 
 is your cross very near to you, the pleasant fault 
 to be shunned, the painful duty to be done, the 
 scornful smile to be endured and unheeded, the 
 unkindness to be borne without irritation or de- 
 sire to return evil for evil, the regulation to be 
 kept when it may be broken without detection, 
 and apparently with no worse fault than the sim- 
 ple breaking it: all these things, and such as 
 these, which run through your lives daily, which 
 you well know from past experience, which are 
 coming or come to you again this half-year, as 
 they came the last, — these are the things with re- 
 gard to which Christ tells you, " One thing thou 
 lackest ; come, take up thy cross, and follow me." 
 Now may I venture to alter the words of what 
 next follows in the Gospel, while I faithfully keep 
 its spirit : " They were sad at that saying, and 
 went away grieved ; for they were young and at 
 school." Even so it is, and even such is some- 
 times the vqij actual language which may be 
 heard : This is too hard for us ; it is not possible 
 to be fully such as we should be at school ; there 
 are things, not right we know, but which we can- 
 is* 
 
210 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 not help doing ; there are things, right we know, 
 but which we cannot here set ourselves to prac- 
 tise ; the principles and practice around us must 
 in some degree be ours ; we have followed Christ 
 in many things from our youth up, and hope still 
 to follow him, but this hard saying, to follow him 
 where it is very painful, to shun the fault which 
 all practise, to do the duty which all neglect, this 
 we cannot do. And even so it is continually ; 
 they go away grieved, for they are young, and 
 they are at school. 
 
 " Then Jesus looked round about and said, 
 How hardly shall they that 'are young enter into 
 the kingdom of God ! It is easier for a camel to 
 go through a needle's eye, than for a young man 
 to enter into the kingdom of God. And they 
 were astonished out of measure, saying among 
 themselves, Who then can be saved ? And Jesus 
 looking upon them saith, With men it is impossi- 
 ble, but not with Uod, for with God all things are 
 possible." This is the very real Scripture of the 
 passage as applied to you. What hindered the 
 young man in the story from taking up his cross 
 was his riches ; what hinders you, so at least we 
 hear it sometimes said, is your being young and 
 being at school. This is 'the excuse urged, the 
 extreme difficulty of making the sacrifice required 
 in your actual circumstances, just as the young 
 man found it so difficult in his actual circum- 
 
THE CHILDREN. 211 
 
 stances to sell all that he had. His cross was 
 surely not lighter than ours, but much heavier, 
 but he could not take it up, and he went away 
 grieved, much grieved that he could not be good 
 easily ; that the tWo things which he loved, his 
 duty and his comfort, and which had long been 
 united, were now divided; both he could have 
 no longer, yet it grieved him to part with either. 
 He went away grieving ; and surely with a far 
 deeper grief did our merciful Lord look after him 
 as he went away, and see him whom he had loved, 
 him whom he had hoped to love always, now 
 turning to destruction. But did he call after him 
 and say, " Turn back, thou young man, for I love 
 thee still, and if thou wilt not follow me taking 
 up thy cross, follow me without it, when thou 
 wilt and where thou wilt, and no farther.' ' Alas ! 
 nothing of the kind. His own way led to Cal- 
 vary, thither his Father's will called him. He 
 was to bear the cross for us all* not figuratively, 
 but literally. Thither he must go, and thither 
 must those follow him who would be with him 
 for ever. Wherefore he looked round about on 
 those who still remained with him, and said, 
 "How hardly shall they that have riches," — 
 " they that are young and at school," he says to 
 those to whom that is their difficulty, — "how 
 hardly shall they enter into the kingdom of God ! " 
 His disciples were astonished at his words, and 
 
212 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 they are often astonished still; nay, they say, 
 " Youth surely is an excuse, the young cannot 
 serve him fully.' ' But he says again, " And 
 therefore it is easier, if this be so, for a camel to 
 go through a needle's eye, than for a young man 
 to enter into the kingdom of God." Then say 
 we in astonishment beyond measure, " Who then 
 can be saved ? " But he answers, " With men it 
 is impossible, but not with God, for with God all 
 things are possible." Yes, if that rich man had 
 not turned away from Christ, but had run up 
 closer to him, and had thrown himself at his feet, 
 crying out- and saying with tears, " Lord, I will 
 follow thee ; help me to follow thee whithersoever 
 thou goest," — then surely his gracious Saviour 
 would have beheld him and loved him far more 
 than at first, and would have given him the 
 strength which he needed, and that which was so 
 hard would have been done, and the rich man 
 would have entered into the kingdom of God. 
 The application lies at the door. You have heard 
 Christ's call, to take up your cross and follow 
 him, to serve him always in all things, in small 
 and great, in thought, word, and deed, there 
 most carefully where it costs you most pain to do 
 it. But do not go away grieving, because you 
 are young, and because you are,at a place where 
 temptations are many, and faithful steady service 
 of Christ will cost you many a sacrifice. Turn 
 
THE CHILDREN. 213 
 
 not from him, but to him much rather, with ear- 
 nest prayer that he who bore his most painful 
 cross for you will enable you to bear your light 
 one for his love ; that he will help you daily, as 
 your trial. will come daily ; that his strength may 
 be made perfect in your weakness. And then, 
 though the thing be harder than that a camel 
 should pass through a needle's eye, yet shall it be 
 done. The young and they that are at school, 
 with all their carelessness, with all their difficul- 
 ties from without as well as from within, they 
 shall enter into the kingdom of God, for so some 
 have entered, and so shall some enter again, and 
 so may all enter who do not turn away from 
 their cross, but ask Christ's grace to help them 
 to bear it. />-■ 9" TRE 
 
 ■ (fa STIVER SIT' 
 
 IT 
 
 Harry listened with some interest. . Mttle Wil- 
 lie had fallen asleep, his head in Mary's arms. 
 A part of the time Horace was restless. I think 
 a part of the time he made a horse of his shoe, 
 and used the strings for reins. But he was more 
 quiet than I expected. 
 
 Then I took the opportunity, while the baby 
 was asleep, to hear Isabel's Sunday-school les- 
 son. It was in " Lessons on the Parables of the 
 Saviour." Isabel did not know her lesson very 
 well, but I made all the children find the Parable 
 
214 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 that was the subject of the lesson, in the eigh- 
 teenth chapter of Luke. 
 
 " And he spake this parable unto certain which 
 trusted in themselves that they were righteous, 
 and despised others. 
 
 " Two men went up into the temple to pray, 
 the one a Pharisee and the other a publican. 
 
 " The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with him- 
 self: God, I thank thee that I am not as other 
 men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even 
 as this publican. 
 
 " I fast twice in the week, I give tithes of all 
 that I possess. 
 
 " And the publican, standing afar off, would not 
 lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but 
 smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful 
 to me a sinner. 
 
 " I tell you, this man went down to his house 
 justified rather than the other ; for every one that 
 exalteth himself shall be abased, and he that 
 humbleth himself shall be exalted." 
 
 I asked all the children in turn the questions 
 in the Lesson upon this Parable, that they might 
 give what answers they knew best. Harry knew 
 all about the Pharisees and the scribes. When I 
 asked, " Who were those haughty' persons that 
 thought themselves righteous and despised oth- 
 ers ? " Horace said there were a great many at 
 Sunday school, and began to name over some 
 
THE CHILDREN. 215 
 
 names. Harry laughed, and said he knew of some 
 there too. There was Flora Temple, and some 
 others, who swept by as if there were nobody fit to 
 speak to. And some of the teachers, too, thought 
 themselves righteous, and despised others. He 
 was glad he was not like them ! 
 
 Clara interrupted Harry, and said, " Take care ! 
 you are beginning to be thankful that you are not 
 unjust, as other men are." 
 
 Mary said that Miss Grace, who used to be her 
 Sunday-school teacher, used to say that people 
 who prided themselves upon their liberality, often 
 shut themselves up in pride, thanking God that 
 they were not like these other men, and forget-, 
 ting the limits they themselves put upon other 
 people. 
 
 But this Harry and Horace did not understand. 
 They had begun to talk of the different people 
 they did not like at school and at Sunday school, 
 and were brought back to the lesson with diffi- 
 culty. On the whole, they gave very good answers 
 to the questions. The subject was insincerity 
 and hypocrisy. And that is what children see 
 through very quickly, and from their own im- 
 pulses despise. Grown-up people, who are not in 
 the habit of being with children, are hardly aware 
 how they fall, in the estimation even of a little 
 child, when they are detected in an untruth. To 
 be in the presence of children is more a test "of 
 
216 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 truth, than to sit constantly opposite a mirror 
 would be. They detect the least deviation, they 
 insist on a clear statement. 
 
 Clara's lesson was upon a chapter in the Acts 
 of the Apostles, which they are reading by way of 
 preparation for reading Conybeare's Life of St. 
 Paul. It was in the third chapter of Acts, and 
 she told how Peter and John healed the lame 
 man at the gate of the temple, with the words of 
 Peter : " Silver and gold have I none, but such 
 as I have give I thee." Clara's teacher had told 
 her scholars to bring her some account of others 
 who had imitated Peter and John, and had given 
 not merely silver and gold, but all that they had, 
 for the good of others. Clara had chosen, with- 
 out consulting anybody, to write a little Life of 
 Elizabeth of Hungary. She was led to do this, 
 because some one, a little while ago, had given 
 her a picture of Elizabeth of Hungary, which 
 represented her holding open her apron filled 
 with roses. And she had been told the legend, — 
 that this princess was filled with such a passion 
 for charity that she gave away all that she had 
 to the poor, until at last her husband forbade her 
 to give any more. But when she heard of the 
 sufferings of the poor people who were famishing 
 around her castle, she could resist no longer, and 
 went out with her apron filled with bread and 
 food from her table, to give to them. On the 
 
THE CHILDREN. 217 
 
 narrow pathway down the hill from her castle 
 she was met by her husband, who spoke to her 
 roughly, and seized her, and asked her why she 
 had disobeyed his commands. At the same time 
 he opened her apron, and found it filled only 
 with roses ! This legend had made Clara anx- 
 ious to know the real history of Elizabeth of 
 Hungary. We read the little Life that Clara had 
 written, though she would not stay and listen to 
 it, but went to rock the cradle, and to take care 
 of the baby. It was very prettily written, such 
 as a young girl would be likely to write, — with 
 many sentimental words, perhaps, but simply 
 written too. Harry liked it; so did Mary and 
 Isabel. 
 
 Then we sang one of the children's hymns, 
 while Isabel played upon the piano, and baby, 
 who had waked up, seemed to like the music. 
 
 Mary asked me if I would read a story she 
 had written for the children. "Partly for the 
 children," she said, — and I think partly to help 
 herself. It was called 
 
 THE WATCHMAN. 
 
 You know how my watch stands at night in 
 the pretty watch-case that papa gave me at New 
 Year's. It hangs in the tower of a little castle, 
 and at the door of the castle stands a little watch- 
 
 19 
 
218 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 man, as if to guard the entrance. Every night 
 my watch hangs in the tower, by my bedside, 
 where I can see it if I lie awake, and often in 
 the daytime it rests there too, when I am not 
 well, and must lie on the bed. It entertains me 
 sometimes, even when I am in pain, to see how 
 the hours go by, and I never forget the pleasure 
 I had at first, when the little watch was first 
 given me. 
 
 The other night I had been lying awake a long 
 time, very tired of thinking, very tired of lying 
 awake, wondering if I never should sleep, when, 
 because I had nothing else to do, I suppose, I 
 began to listen to the ticking of my watch. It 
 seems to you, perhaps, that the ticking of a 
 watch has a great deal of sameness in it, one 
 tick being very much like another. But then it 
 sounded to me very like words, as if the watch 
 were very busily talking, and with the watchman 
 below. It did not give the watchman much 
 chance to answer, but ran on, a word a second, 
 till I fell asleep : — 
 
 " Down in the kitchen ! Think of my spend- 
 ing the day in the kitchen ! I did think, when 
 I heard of it, you might have drawn your sword 
 in my defence. For, pray, what are you put 
 there for, except to guard me and my dignity ? 
 When I heard Mrs. Blake ask Miss Mary to lend 
 cook her watch, because the kitchen clock had 
 
THE CHILDREN. 219 
 
 stopped, I had really half a mind to stop myself. 
 I have done such things wheil I was younger. 
 At that Christmas party, a year or two ago, when 
 I knew our dear Mary would like to stay for a 
 few more dances, I stopped precisely at nine. 
 And it was hard work, too, for the music set all 
 my cogs going, and I should have liked well 
 enough to have kept time to her feet ! Then it 
 was I made her late for the train, when she was 
 coming away from Ferndale. I knew she would 
 like to stay to the afternoon picnic, if she had 
 only a good reason. But those were youthful 
 follies ! Now we have a dignity to keep up, and 
 we succeed. Lady's watches ! How they are 
 sneered at ! I am sure the women keep up with 
 the times more than the men." 
 
 " Pray don't get upon the woman's rights 
 question," interrupted the watchman. 
 
 " But down I went to the kitchen, and was 
 on my good behavior. I was determined to set 
 an example for that kitchen clock. It is always 
 behind time, and the potatoes always come on to 
 the table underdone, and dinner at least half a 
 minute behindhand. 
 
 " I created an excitement in the kitchen, I 
 can tell you. As I hung over the mantelpiece, 
 the tongs tumbled forward upon their head to 
 see me. An ill-bred pair, those tongs. I ob- 
 served they were constantly falling out. The 
 
220 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 gridiron stood upon its hind legs to grin at me. 
 And some turnips on the kitchen table absolutely 
 claimed relationship with me ! A difficult place, 
 you will agree, to maintain one's self-respect, 
 and go on with one's duties systematically. My 
 springs were constantly jarred by the voices and 
 loud laughs of the cook and the chambermaids. 
 I hope that kitchen clock is made of sterner stuff 
 than I ! I was truly thankful I had my hands 
 before my face all the time, to hide my blushes. 
 The iron pots and kettles made such a coarse 
 noise, too, as they were lifted off the fire, it set 
 my teeth all on edge. Such unpunctuality, — 
 never boiling up at the right moment ! If one 
 could only impress upon people what it is to be 
 a watch, the importance of regulating the time 
 for others, there would not be so many lost min- 
 utes in the world ! 
 
 " But I suppose there are alleviations in the low- 
 est condition of life, and I was not insensible to 
 them. The smell of the steak came up refresh- 
 ingly from the fire, and it was done and taken up 
 just at the right moment, thanks to my punctual- 
 ity, which really imposed upon the cook. The 
 eggs at breakfast were done to a point. You ob- 
 serve that, when time is well regulated, everything 
 else falls into order too. So cook had time to set 
 her kitchen to rights, which I have not seen for 
 many a day. This consciousness of an influence 
 
THE CHILDREN. 221 
 
 docs something to spread a charm of self-satisfac- 
 tion over the roughest lot ! 
 
 "But the marked moment of my morning was 
 when the cook's niece came in. She struck me 
 as soon as I saw her, — a pretty, curly-haired 
 child, with such an air of neatness about her ! She 
 discovered me as soon as she came in. ' 0, what 
 a pretty little clock ! ' she exclaimed. Now this 
 touched my vanity ! To be a clock, that always 
 has been the summit of my ambition. To be 
 able to strike now and then, and express one's self 
 in a way that is listened to. Everybody respects 
 the striking of a clock, and stops to hear what it 
 says, while one might tick on for ever without any 
 notice being taken of it ! The notice is taken 
 when we stop ticking. How ungrateful that is ! 
 No one praises our regularity, but everybody is 
 ready with their blame if we rest a minute, or our 
 wheels are out of order once in a while ! 
 
 " But to be a clock in a church-tower, that is 
 what I have sighed for ! I like this little tower 
 we rest in because it shows in little what I would 
 like to be. Think haw grand to strike so that a 
 whole town would hear, — everybody listening! 
 To peal out ' one ' o'clock in the 'middle of the 
 day. Not a word more ! Think what restrained 
 power! To stop just at that. Majestically it 
 sounds forth, and all the workmen are listening, 
 and they stop work awhile. It is the middle of 
 
 19* 
 
222 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 the day, and the weathercock on top of the spire 
 shows that the sun is beginning to drop down to 
 its setting. Everybody wonders if he has done 
 half his work, for the last part of the day has 
 sounded out its first hour. 
 
 " Then how grand to peal out twelve at mid- 
 night, when nobody else is speaking, when there 
 is not a voice to be h§ard anywhere, — no other 
 voice but this ! It marks the middle of the night 
 for the wakeful that are longing for morning, and 
 it startles the guilty wanderer. Nobody else ven- 
 tures to speak so loud just then. The church- 
 clock has it its own way. But it does its duty ; 
 it would not strike a stroke less, and more none 
 but an Italian clock would think of. 
 
 " Then for each separate hour somebody is lis- 
 tening. Some are waiting impatiently for it, some 
 are dreading its approach ; others it wakes up 
 from their busy toil, or out of their indolence. 
 Yet to some one just that hour is dear, and the 
 voice of the clock seems just then musical as 
 timely. Clocks and watches have to thank rail- 
 roads for giving them more respect than they had 
 in former days. In running to a railway station, 
 nobody cares for a better companion than his 
 watch. An4 how many eyes are cast up to the 
 church-clock from hasty travellers, who have not 
 time to consult their private watches ! 
 
 " But my experience of to-day has taught me 
 
THE CHILDREN. 223 
 
 a lesson. I am satisfied with my own lot. There 
 are lower positions than ours, and harder fates. 
 I must be thankful for what I do enjoy. And I 
 have learnt content from those whom I thought 
 worse off than I. That kitchen clock is really 
 respectable. It would not look well in the par- 
 lor, but I am convinced it does as well as it can. 
 After all, we are all of us dependent upon some 
 one who winds us up. 
 
 " I can remember, in my younger days, when 
 Miss Mary and I went about visiting this one here, 
 and that one there. What a gay life we led ! We 
 thought it a usefnl one too. We fancied we were 
 doing a great deal. Now she has to lie still, do- 
 ing nothing sometimes all day long. And I, too, 
 have to keep quiet ; yet I feel that it is just as im- 
 portant to be regular with my time, as when we 
 felt we must be at a certain place precisely at a 
 certain hour. Perhaps, after all, that was not as 
 important as we thought it. Perhaps the duties 
 we performed then were not so great in value as 
 the patience we practise now. I used to tick on 
 as regularly as I could, but so taken up with 
 what was going on, that I never thought about 
 the hours till some clock struck them for me. 
 Now I watch the hours as they go by, and learn 
 the value of a single minute. 
 
 " At first, this seemed a weary business, but now 
 that we learn it is our business, we try not to do 
 
224 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 it wearily. I am thankful that I am still wound 
 up regularly every night, and never have to stand 
 still from forgetfulness ; and it is a pleasure to 
 keep my time regularly and truly, and cheerfully 
 too. Nobody can accuse me of an indolent ex- 
 pression in my ticking " 
 
 The voice went on, and I could not tell if it 
 were the watch speaking, or I thinking, — think- 
 ing that I, too, ought to be grateful, even if I 
 were dependent upon others for my " winding 
 up." I cannot go about of my own will, much 
 more than my little watch. But I need not envy 
 the days when I used to go about as the rest of 
 you do, for I have still my own time to keep, with 
 patience and regularity. 
 
 And I have such a pleasant home to rest in, 
 and cared for by friends, and cheered by child- 
 ren's voices. And my watchman? I went to 
 sleep offering up my heart and soul into the care 
 of Him who slumbers not nor sleeps. 
 
 After we had listened to Mary's story, which 
 the children heard, laughingly at first, and after- 
 wards interestedly, Harry took a book to read, 
 " Tom Brown's School Days at Rugby." 
 
 Horace took Willie up to Mary's watch-case to 
 see if the watch would say anything to them- and 
 
THE CHILDREN. 225 
 
 then came down, and asked for a book to show 
 Willie some pictures. They had a noisy time 
 over these, but not an angry time, as these two 
 boys do sometimes when they are left together. 
 Horace is too fond of teasing his little brother, 
 but to-day he seemed more subdued, and exerted 
 himself to entertain Willie. Meanwhile I had 
 a few minutes' quiet talk with Mary. 
 
 Mr. Blake came home at noon. There was 
 such a storm, the church was to be closed for 
 the afternoon. We did not hare a very quiet 
 afternoon. The children were restless, baby and 
 all ; the baby would not leave me, and Willie was 
 tired, and Horace troubled him. Towards the 
 end of the afternoon, Harry came to ask me if I 
 would not read something more to him ; he should 
 not care if it was a sermon, and he was tired of 
 reading by himself. The baby was so unwilling 
 to leave me, that I persuaded Isabel to read to 
 Harry, and they went into a corner, and read 
 another of Dr. Arnold's sermons that I chose for 
 them, one that had some striking pictures'in it, 
 which I thought might touch a boy. 
 
226 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 CHRIST'S CRUCIFIXION. 
 
 " And the people stood beholding." — Luke xxiii. 35. 
 
 It was our Lord upon the cross whom they 
 were beholding, and they who so beheld him 
 were the mixed multitude which, with all sorts 
 of feelings, poured out of the walls of Jerusalem 
 to see the spectacle. And so it is still ; Christ is 
 crucified among us daily, and the people stand 
 beholding. 
 
 They stand beholding, an infinite variety of 
 persons with an infinite variety of feelings, even 
 as the multitude who then stood around his cross. 
 There was his mother, and there was his beloved 
 disciple ; there was the centurion ; there were 
 the women of his acquaintance, and the women 
 of Jerusalem generally ; there were the Roman 
 soldiers, there were the common Jews, there were 
 the rulers and chief priests and scribes, beholding 
 as they thought the accomplishment of their work. 
 These beheld him, standing around or at a little 
 distance from his cross. Nor were there wanting 
 others who beheld him, themselves being to mor- 
 tal eyes invisible, the angels of God, who looked 
 with awe and adoration upon that infinite display 
 of God's love. They too are beholding him now, 
 crucified as he is again daily amongst us. 
 
 We may, if we will, apply this in two ways ; 
 
THE CHILDREN. 227 
 
 we may apply it to ourselves, this present congre- 
 gation, at this present season, beholding, so to 
 speak, the representation of Christ crucified in 
 the services of this week, and in the communion 
 of next Sunday. In this sense it may be said, 
 " The people stand beholding him." Or again 
 we may apply it to ourselves, still to this present 
 congregation, in another sense ; as beholding 
 Christ crucified, not in the historical representa- 
 tion of it given in the Scriptures, and read out to 
 us in the Church services ; but actually, accord- 
 ing to the language of the Epistle to the Hebrews, 
 in the sins which his people are daily committing ; 
 'we standing and looking on the while, and regard- 
 ing it very differently some of us from others. 
 
 And lastly, if I may so speak, we behold Christ 
 crucified in yet another sense : we each are guilty 
 of sin, we each look upon ourselves thus sinning 
 and having sinned with a great variety of feelings ; 
 our minds do not always keep the same temper ; 
 in one and the same heart, as various moods pre- 
 vail, there is sorrow, there is seriousness, there 
 is indifference, there is even hatred and scorn ; 
 another aspect of the words contained in the text, 
 " And the people stood beholding." 
 
 Now, in the first place, let us apply the words 
 to ourselves, and to the services of this week. 
 Already the sufferings and death of our Lord have 
 been brought before us in the Lessons, and in the 
 
228 THE FIFTH STOEMY SUNDAY. 
 
 Gospel of this day ; then on Wednesday, when 
 we usually assemble in this place, they will be 
 brought before us again ; and yet again on Fri- 
 day. We know that the Gospel for every day in 
 this week is taken from the Scriptures which de- 
 scribe our Lord's death ; the Epistle and some of 
 the Lessons also more or less_ exclusively relate to 
 it. The mere outward and formal difference of 
 this week cannot escape the observation of the 
 most careless ; we cannot but distinguish it from 
 other weeks. Therefore the representation of 
 Christ crucified is set before us : we stand be- 
 holding, more or less attentively indeed, and with 
 more or less of interest, but we all stand be- 
 holding. 
 
 Amongst those who stood round his actual 
 cross, there were, as we have seen, great vari- 
 eties. There was our Lord's mother, and his 
 beloved disciple John, and there were the chief 
 priests and scribes ; there were thus the very 
 extremes of love and of hatred. Each of these 
 in anything like the same intenseness cannot be 
 supposed to exist here : who of us loves him as 
 his mother and as St. John loved him ? Who of 
 us hates him as the chief priests hated him? 
 But between these extremes were there not still 
 great differences ? The women of Jerusalem 
 weeping with compassion ; the centurion observ- 
 ing seriously and fairly ; the Roman soldiers car- 
 
THE CHILDREN. 229 
 
 ing for nothing bnt to get each man their share 
 of his raiment ; the scornful multitude who said, 
 " Let be, let us see whether Elias will come and 
 save him." Have we not amongst ourselves re- 
 semblances at least of all these ? Have we not 
 some who feel that he suffered for us ? Have we 
 not some who think seriously ? have we not some 
 who think only of what outward good things they 
 get from him, food and clothing, and pleasure of 
 every sort ? nay, have we not some also who have 
 heard and have listened and will not heed, — who 
 know what sin is, yet sin deliberately, — who put 
 conscience aside, and turn away from Christ's 
 Spirit in defiance ? Some of all these kinds of 
 persons, God only knows how strongly bearing 
 the character of any or in what proportions to 
 one another, are surely here this day, beholding 
 the Church's yearly representation of Christ cru- 
 cified. Let each ask himself, which character is 
 his own. 
 
 But one thing I will say. Those whom I com- 
 pared to the Roman soldiers, to the soldiers who 
 were sitting beneath the cross casting lots for our 
 Lord's raiment ; those whom I fear I must sup- 
 pose to be a large portion of our number, who 
 sit here to-day, and will sit here on Wednesday, 
 and on Friday, utterly unconcerned in what is 
 going on, thinking only as they think always, of 
 something to be enjoyed, or some pleasant thing 
 20 
 
230 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 to be done, or unpleasant thing to be avoided, — 
 of something, in short, very near them, in their 
 hands, or within their near view, something world- 
 ly, something in which God and God's service 
 have no part at all ; — all these persons have by 
 no means the same excuse for their indifference 
 which the Roman soldiers had for theirs. Christ 
 is not to them wholly unknown, as he was to those 
 soldiers ; their teaching, let them have derived 
 ever so little good from it, has been far more than 
 ever fell to the lot of those poor Romans. We 
 have noticed from time to time, in the course of 
 our common studies, how miserable was the mor- 
 al education which could be gained at that time 
 among the heathens, even by those whose circum- 
 stances were most favorable. What do we think 
 it must have been for the common soldiers of the 
 legions ? what had been the lessons of their child- 
 hood or youth, what the experience of their man- 
 hood ? Not in vain, depend upon it, were holy 
 names spoken to you from your earliest years ; 
 and you were told of God and Christ, and heav- 
 en and hell ; and were taught to pray, — ay, and 
 have prayed sometimes, I doubt not, even the 
 very most careless and most ignorant of you all. 
 Nor yet is it in vain that these same lessons are 
 still repeated to you here ; let it be repeated ever 
 so imperfectly, ever so scantily ; let it be that such 
 teaching is but as one little drop amidst streams 
 
THE CHILDREN. 231 
 
 of an opposite power, still you cannot get rid of 
 the fact that you have had more than a hea- 
 then's teaching ; the very walls of this building, 
 meeting your eyes as they do every day, are 
 themselves a witness ; your sin in sitting in per- 
 fect carelessness as it were beneath Christ's cross, 
 and thinking only of your earthly pleasures and 
 inconveniences, must be far greater than the 
 sin of those soldiers who cast lots for Christ's 
 raiment. 
 
 And now let us apply the text in its second 
 sense. We stand beholding Christ crucified, not 
 to-day only, nor Wednesday, nor Friday only, 
 nor beholding him in the Scripture representation 
 of what he suffered once on Calvary ; but every 
 day beholding him crucified afresh, — I speak 
 the language of the Epistle to the Hebrews, — 
 crucified afresh in the sins that are committed 
 amongst us ; committed amongst us, I am saying 
 now, not committed by ourselves individually. 
 •I am considering how we look upon the sin which 
 is done daily within our sight and knowledge by 
 those amongst whom we are living. Again, have 
 not we resemblances of those different sorts of 
 persons who stood around the cross ? I should 
 be very sorry to think that no one beheld Christ 
 thus crucified with sorrow, that none so much as 
 beheld with serious attention. Can it bo really 
 that the many sorts of evil, the want of positive 
 
232 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 good being one of the very worst of all, which 
 present themselves to us every day, should be to 
 all of us a matter of absolute indifference ? Con- 
 sider that, so far as we are not such a society as 
 Christ's people will be hereafter in heaven, so far 
 sin is corrupting us, and dishonoring our Lord. 
 Of course I know that there are some things in 
 which, without any fault of ours, our condition 
 cannot be what that of Christ's people will be 
 when they are with him. So far as bodily pain 
 affects us, brought on by no fault of ourselves or 
 others, so far as sickness makes us uncomfortable, 
 or the innocent troubles of our friends, or their 
 being taken away from us, so far I grant Christ's 
 truest people on earth will ever be different from 
 his people in heaven. But set aside these things, 
 and what differences remain are surely differen- 
 ces caused by sin ; differences caused by want of 
 faith, want of hope, want of purity, want of truth, 
 want of meekness, want of love ; differences 
 caused by unbelief, by indifference, by greediness >, 
 by falsehood, by pride, by hardness and the love 
 of giving pain, by slothfulness and selfishness. 
 Can it be that we see ourselves so different from 
 what Christ's people should be, and that not one 
 of us thinks seriously about it, not one of us 
 grieves for it ? It is but too certain that many 
 do not care about it in the least ; nay, it is to be 
 feared that here we have really someching like 
 
THE CHILDREN. 233 
 
 the very feeling of the chief priests and scribes, 
 who looked on upon- the sight of Christ crucified, 
 and rejoiced at it. I am afraid that some almost 
 take a pleasure in the state of sin which they see 
 around them, at least that they would and do 
 oppose and view with suspicion and dislike all 
 attempts to make it better. Even to this hour, 
 after so many years' experience, my astonishment 
 at this is as fresh as ever ; I wonder, and ever 
 shall wonder, I hope, not that there are some who 
 do evil, but that there are so many who do not 
 hate it when done by others. I can understand 
 our being over-indulgent to our" own faults; I 
 can understand that self-love should get the bet- 
 ter of conscience ; or that, a great temptation 
 being before us, we should be found often to yield 
 to it. But that sin should not be hateful when 
 there is no self-love to blind us ; that evil should 
 not be abhorred even when no temptation is pres- 
 ent; this does seem to me very wonderful and 
 very shocking. It seems to show an habitual 
 and deliberate turning away from Christ, which 
 really reminds one of the rancor of the chief 
 priests, or at any rate of those who said, " We 
 will not have this man to reign over us." It says 
 that the common state of our minds is one of 
 apostasy ; that when no particular temptation is 
 present, in cool blood, as it were, and constantly, 
 we look upon Christ crucified among us, and we 
 
 20* 
 
234 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 are absolutely without a single wish that it should 
 not be so. 
 
 It is but too certain that, as long as we care 
 not to see Christ crucified by others, so long we 
 shall never be careful not ' to crucify him our- 
 selves. This was the last point which I spoke of: 
 how differently at different times we behold him 
 crucified as it were in our own hearts by our own 
 sin, sometimes, I trust, being penitent, and some- 
 times being serious, but more commonly, I fear, 
 being careless, and sometimes being hard and 
 wilfully rebellious. Now it may be that one who 
 hates evil very sincerely may yet sometimes, 
 under strong temptation, yield to it : he may 
 grieve to see Christ crucified by others, and 
 yet may crucify him by his own sin. This is 
 not hypocrisy, but human weakness, which does 
 not bring its practice fully up to the level of its 
 principles, even though it holds the principles 
 most truly. But who will care for evil in him- 
 self, being tempted to it, when he does not care 
 for it in another, where he has no temptation to 
 make him tolerant of it ? Who will scruple to 
 commit a sin himself when he has occasion, if he 
 sees the sin committed by others with entire in- 
 difference ? Who will shrink from lying, or from 
 any other sin, in his own person, if these things 
 give him no disgust when he sees them in anoth- 
 er ? It is quite certain that he cannot hate them, 
 
THE CHILDREN. 235 
 
 and not hating sin, it is quite certain that he can- 
 not love -God. 
 
 "The people," says the Evangelist, "who came 
 together to that sight, beholding the things which 
 were done, smote their breasts and returned. " 
 The soldiers were indifferent, the chief priests 
 triumphant ; but the general feeling was sorrow ; 
 when they had seen that all was over, the mul- 
 titude in general, who had stood beholding, smote 
 their breasts and returned. We know not how 
 soon the impression melted away again from many 
 of them ; but for the time, at least, it was general, 
 and with many we may believe that it was last- 
 ing. that it might be so with us, in either of 
 the applications of the text which I have been 
 making ! that from our sight of Christ crucified, 
 as represented in this week's solemn services, or 
 as daily and every week set forth in the sin com- 
 mitted all around us, or by ourselves, the gener- 
 ality of us might turn away truly grieving ! that 
 from that sight, under whatever form exhibited 
 to us, we might derive a hatred of sin with all 
 our hearts and souls, whenever we see it in oth- 
 ers, or in ourselves ! I do not say for an instant 
 " hatred of those in whom sin is," for as we 
 certainly shall never hate ourselves, so neither 
 should we hate others in whom sin may be man- 
 ifested ; but the sin itself, whether in ourselves 
 or others, we should hate with a perfect hatred ; 
 
236 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 for the strength of that hatred of sin is the exact 
 measure of the strength of our love of Christ. 
 We should hate it and make war upon it unceas- 
 ingly, to destroy it utterly out of all our coasts ; 
 for this is the lesson of the destruction of the 
 Canaanites with all that belonged to them, — that 
 we should hold no intercourse with it, make no 
 peace with it, allow it not the least harbor 
 amongst us, that, having overcome that deadly 
 enemy which crucified and crucifies our Lord 
 continually, we may turn to him with joy, and 
 share with him in the glory of his resurrection. 
 
 I was very tired towards night, when Clara 
 came and whispered to me. She thought, if I left 
 the room a little while, the baby would be quiet 
 with her, and she had made a little fire in the 
 air-tight stove in my room, if I would only go up 
 and rest myself. I came up into my room, and 
 found it quiet and warm. Clara had drawn an 
 easy chair up to the fire, and a little table, on 
 which she had placed my favorite books. It was 
 very still and peaceful here, and I had a little 
 time for thought. And I gave thanks. And I 
 laid off, for a little while, the responsibility that 
 hangs above me so constantly with regard to my 
 children. Surely they were not worse than other 
 
THE CHILDREN. 287 
 
 people's children. Because I loved them better, 
 I am anxiously conscious of all their faults, and 
 feel myself to blame for them, but how much 
 there is in them to give me hope ! How thought- 
 ful and unexpected was this little act of Clara's ! 
 She is the gay one of the family. From one 
 week's end to the other, she keeps us laughing 
 with her fun, and seems filled only with the joy 
 of life. But lately I have seen some very pleas- 
 ing traits in the midst of her apparent thought- 
 lessness. There is a generosity in all the little 
 things she does, and a sensibility to the little 
 troubles of others. Indeed, let me in future look 
 to these encouraging traits in my children. Of 
 late, perhaps, I have been weighed down too much 
 by the care of them, not joining in their joy, or 
 growing young in their youth. Let me in future 
 leave the care of them in the hands of God, and 
 trust that he has given them to me for a blessing. 
 And for my boys ! If Christ shall ask of them 
 to drink of his cup, and be baptized with his 
 baptism, may I hear them answer, and may I 
 too, be willing to hear them answer, " We are 
 able!" 
 
238 THE FIFTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 ST. JOHN'S DAY.* 
 
 " Peter, seeing him, saith to Jesus, Lord, and what shall this man 
 do? Jesus saith unto him, If I will that he tarry till I come, what is 
 that to thee'? follow thou me." 
 
 Lord, and what shall this man do ? 
 
 Ask'st thou, Christian, for thy friend ? 
 If his love for Christ be true, 
 
 Christ hath told thee of his end. 
 This is he whom God approves, 
 This is he whom Jesus loves. 
 
 Ask not of him more than this ; 
 
 Leave it in his Saviour's breast, 
 Whether, early called to bliss, 
 
 He in youth shall find his rest, 
 Or armed in his station wait 
 Till his Lord be at the gate. 
 
 Whether in his lonely course 
 
 (Lonely, not forlorn) he stay, 
 Or with love's supporting force 
 
 Cheat the toil and cheer the way, — 
 Leave it all in His high hand, 
 Who doth hearts as streams command. 
 
 Gales from heaven, if so he will, 
 
 Sweeter melodies can wake 
 On the lonely mountain rill 
 
 Than the meeting waters make ; 
 Who hath the Father and the Son 
 May be left, but not alone. 
 
 * Keble. 
 
THE CHILDREN. 239 
 
 Sick or healthful, slave or free, 
 Wealthy or despised and poor, — 
 
 What is that to him or thee, 
 So his love to Christ endure ? 
 
 When the shore is won at last, 
 
 Who will count the billows past? 
 
 Only, since our souls will shrink 
 At the touch of natural grief, 
 
 When Our earthly loved ones sink, 
 Send us, Lord, thy sure relief; 
 
 Patient hearts, their pain to see, 
 
 And thy grace, to follow thee. 
 
THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 THE BIBLE. 
 
 Stars are poor books, and oftentimes do miss ; 
 This book of stars lights to eternal bliss." 
 
 Herbert. 
 
 21 
 
THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 THE BIBLE. 
 
 Here are six stormy Sundays that we have had 
 in succession, and to-day I was particularly dis- 
 appointed, that I could not go to church, for our 
 friend Mr. R. was to preach for us, and was spend- 
 ing the Sunday with us. My friend Anna, who 
 is staying with me for a few days, and who had 
 depended, too, upon hearing Mr. R. preach, was 
 much disappointed. Last night we looked out 
 upon a bright starlight, and were hoping for a 
 pleasant Sunday at last. But in the night the 
 storm rose ; we heard the wind blowing the snow 
 against the panes of glass of the window, as 
 though it would dash them through. This morn- 
 ing we found the house more blocked up than it 
 has been all winter. Mr. R. and George looked 
 out in dismay, and George early began his efforts 
 in bringing round the sleigh and the horse, through 
 the heavy drifts, from the stable to the house door. 
 This was accomplished at last, and in due season 
 
244 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 before the hour for the church services, that they 
 might have plenty of time to fight their way 
 through the snow to church. At first Anna and 
 I insisted that we would go, too; but we were 
 plainly shown that we should be in the way, and 
 nothing but a burden, and that George and the 
 horse would have as much as they could do to 
 get " the minister " to church in season. So we 
 bade them good by for the day, for they would 
 not return till night. We watched them for some 
 time, for the sleigh was overturned three times, 
 and I thought they would have to give up their 
 efforts to pierce through the drifts. At last they 
 disappeared from sight, and we turned away from 
 the window, Anna very despondingiy. "I do 
 not understand," she exclaimed, " how you have 
 been able to survive five quiet, solitary, stormy 
 Sundays ! I must confess I should find it very 
 hard. I am afraid at the last I should be sighing 
 for my knitting! " 
 
 Then Anna went on to say she should find it 
 very hard to read what were called " good" books 
 all day long. She liked the services at church, 
 she liked summer Sundays, when the quiet and 
 beauty of nature suggested a quiet and beautiful 
 peace within. But this succession of stormy 
 Sundays, — was not it very dreary ? 
 
 I told her I had found it difficult to occupy the 
 time heartily and happily. But I thought some 
 
THE BIBLE. 245 
 
 of her complaints should be charged to a retired 
 life, to having my house so far away from other 
 people, rather than to the fact of its being Sun- 
 day. If I had five stormy weeks that kept me 
 away from the rest of the world, I should find 
 my week-day occupations, however varied they 
 might be, grow monotonous and dreary without 
 the zest of interruption. But I should not like 
 to say that my resources were not equal to five 
 separate, uninterrupted Sundays, — my resources 
 of a library and my own thoughts, — that I should 
 be reduced to knitting or sewing, which I am not 
 fond of doing week days, and, on the other hand, 
 am glad to be relieved from. 
 
 Anna confessed that the novelty of sewing on 
 Sunday might give it a charm that it did not have 
 to her on other days. " Perhaps," said she, " it 
 is the sighing after a forbidden fruit, sour though 
 the fruit may be." Then she asked how much I 
 read of the Old Testament on such days, and we 
 fell to talking of how much or how little it is read 
 now-a-days. Anna said she had found very little 
 interest in the Old Testament ; that it seemed to 
 her to present a picture of a God such as she 
 could not comprehend, — cruel and unjust ; that 
 the lives that were held up to be the lives of good 
 men were far from being immaculate and pure ; 
 that she could not look upon it as a book to be 
 read every day as a lesson for her own daily life, 
 21* 
 
246 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 because, at best, it was a history of people who 
 lived long ago, and under less light than we are 
 living in now. 
 
 I agreed with her somewhat in this last, but I 
 asked her if she had come at this impression 
 through her own reading of the Old Testament. 
 She said that she had not ; that indeed she had 
 read the Old Testament very little. She remem- 
 bered hearing it read aloud in her childhood, and 
 liking the history of Joseph ; the greater part of 
 what she had read then, had left little impression 
 upon her. But lately she had read a great many 
 of the books that discussed the inspiration of the 
 Bible, and she more and more wondered that it 
 should be bound up with the life of Christ, and 
 she found it impossible to waken any interest 
 in it. 
 
 " There are the Psalms," I said ; " certainly 
 they contain very beautiful poetry." 
 
 " Yes," she said. " But in the midst of the 
 Psalms, in the midst of the most beautiful poetry, 
 are the prayers of David against his enemies, 
 that seem to me savage and cruel." 
 
 " The prayers may be savage and cruel," I 
 said, " especially to us, who are taught to forgive 
 our enemies. Yet perhaps many in our times 
 might not spare the lives of their enemies, as 
 David spared the life of his greatest enemy when 
 he was thrown into his hands, as you remember." 
 
THE BIBLE. 247 
 
 " No, I don't remember," Anna said ; " and 
 my impression of the Psalms is vague, as I heard 
 them read at a school, where we read on, day 
 after day, in a mechanical way, from the Old 
 Testament. * Strong bulls of Bashan have beset 
 me round.' I remember that verse struck me 
 once. Of what sort of use could that verse be 
 to me ? " 
 
 "I remember," I said, "that it is from a Psalm 
 that always impressed me very much, because the 
 first words of it are the words with which Christ 
 cried out in agony upon the cross, i My God, my 
 God, why hast thou forsaken me ? ' I have often 
 read the rest of the Psalm, wondering if at that 
 moment there might not have presented itself to 
 Jesus some of the words that follow : l Our fa- 
 thers trusted in thee, they trusted, and thou 
 didst deliver them; they cried unto thee, and 
 were delivered, they trusted in thee, and were 
 not confounded. But I am a worm, and no man, 
 a reproach of men, and despised of the people. 
 All they that see me laugh me to scorn ; they 
 shoot out the lip, they shake the head, saying, He 
 trusted on the Lord that he would deliver him ; 
 let him deliver him, seeing that he delighteth in 
 
 him They part my garments among them, 
 
 and cast lots upon my vesture. But be not thou 
 far from me, Lord ! my strength, haste thee 
 to help me ! ' It seems so natural that the scene 
 
248 JTHE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 before him should have called to him words that 
 seemed to describe it. And this is a way that 
 the Old Testament is to me connected with the 
 life of Christ ; because, from all his teachings, 
 we can see that he learnt something himself from 
 6 the Scriptures.' " 
 
 "If only," said Anna, " we had not been made 
 to read the Old Testament in such a mechanical 
 way." 
 
 I thought perhaps I had been very fortunate in 
 that way. I reminded Anna of the interest we 
 had felt in Mrs. Child's book, of the Religious 
 Ideas of Different Nations. 
 
 " Yes," said Anna, " I was glad to read that ; 
 it told me a great deal I did not know. It is 
 very curious to read the early history of those 
 old nations." 
 
 " I have felt that interest too," I said. " It 
 seemed as if one might learn something of the 
 nature of religion by tracing it up to its earliest 
 sources, and I had always seized hold of such 
 histories with a particular eagerness. Often I 
 had begun to read carefully of the old Hindoo 
 faith. But in the history of this, and in other 
 similar histories, I had met with one great diffi- 
 culty. I was sorry to say they had grown dull. 
 After a while, Vishnu and Siva, Devi and Krish- 
 na, Brahmin and Buddhist, even mingle them- 
 selves in my mind. The account interests me 
 
THE BIBLE. 249 
 
 awhile for a study, in some of its singular coin- 
 cidences, but it does not keep its hold on me, and 
 I never get beyond a certain point with it. I can 
 study it for a while, but it does not leave any 
 powerful impression upon my mind. Now, the 
 history of the Hebrew religion, as told in the Old 
 Testament, affects me very differently. That is 
 represented as it existed in the lives of men and 
 women. We pass over the long account of the 
 laws and their details, by which they were com- 
 manded to live, to read how far they were able 
 to preserve these laws in their hearts and their 
 lives. Yery full of faults were these lives, full 
 of the sins of their times and of their own sins, 
 but they wonderfully preserve in them the belief 
 in the one God. This belief, alas ! failed often 
 to control their lives, as we allow our Christian 
 faith to fail us in our daily duties, because we 
 make it a thing apart from ourselves, — a form, 
 and not a life. David offers a heart-felt prayer 
 to God, forgets God when the hour of temptation 
 comes, and then again pours out a strain of re- 
 morseful penitence for his sin. We look down 
 upon this, as we shall some day look back upon 
 the course of our own lives, as last summer we 
 looked down from the high mountain on the hills 
 and valleys below. We saw the little lake, lying 
 far below us ; above it rose the little cloud that 
 had formed itself from its vapors ; the cloud lay 
 
250 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 far below us too, and at a distance, on the green 
 fields by the side of the lake, lay the shadow of 
 its cloud. We see the purity, the sin that fol- 
 lowed, and then the shadow of the sin, in* its 
 remorse." 
 
 On the whole, Anna and I agreed very nearly 
 in our opinion of the Old Testament. We thought 
 it far more imposing, not considered as a verbal 
 inspiration of God, but as an account of man's 
 idea of him, the human history of God's revela- 
 tion to man. And it is to me more valuable, as 
 presenting the history of the nation from which 
 Christ came into the world, and thus forming a 
 necessary introduction to his life. The first 
 chapters of Matthew and Luke are taken up with 
 the genealogy of Jesus Christ, as though a long 
 list of names were necessary to found or exalt 
 his claims. For us who look upon the bright 
 light that comes down through the eighteen hun- 
 dred years from him, this light illumines the his- 
 tory behind, and gives it some of his glory. As 
 in the pictures of the Nativity, the light from the 
 child streams upon the wise men just leaving the 
 background, and upon the shepherds round the 
 manger. 
 
 To me the life of David loses very much of its 
 interest after he becomes a king, — prosperity is 
 a heavier temptation than his adversity. And 
 throughout the Old Testament there must needs 
 
THE BIBLE. 251 
 
 be passages of unequal interest, details of forms 
 of customs that have long ago lost their vitality, 
 lists of the names of inefficient kings that forgot 
 their God. But these indeed form but a small 
 part of the whole history. For our own personal 
 advancement in religion, to help us in our daily 
 trials and temptations, we may not find assistance 
 in the lives of those who saw in God a stern and 
 severe judge. Yet in their aspirations we find a 
 common bond of sympathy. Dante gives them a 
 place in Paradise as " Christians about to be," 
 and perhaps we can trace in them a faith in 
 something purer than they found in their own 
 lives, that gives a fire to their devotion. Cer- 
 tainly some of the prayers and utterances of the 
 Psalms and the Prophecies have something in 
 them which warms us who have strayed away 
 from- Christ. 
 
 At any rate, we need not be more prejudiced 
 against it by the superstitious and mechanical 
 way in which it has been sometimes regarded, 
 than we are influenced by the devotional feeling 
 which it has awakened in many others. How- 
 ever it has been regarded by others, we ought, as 
 we ought from all other things, to create our own 
 life, not bound, not prejudiced by others, yet will- 
 ing to receive what light they will give. 
 
 We may speculate as we will upon the author- 
 ity of the Old Testament, study its character and 
 
252 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 its teachings according to the bent of our intellect- 
 ual constitution ; speculations on this and other 
 subjects akin to it may serve as food and occu- 
 pation for the starving and waste hours of our 
 mind. For our guidance in our every-day lives 
 we need the inspiration that was in the life of 
 Christ ; through him can we come to the Father, 
 the Father who was imperfectly conceived in the 
 Hebrew faith. 
 
 Christ found encouragement in the lives of the 
 men whom his nation revered. The prophets, 
 whose words he heard in the humble synagogue 
 of his home, were familiar to him in his childish 
 days. He lingered in the temple to hear and 
 learn of them, when his life was opening upon 
 him. He used their words when the hour of 
 temptation came, to put back the tempter from 
 his soul. And already he must have become 
 intimate with their spirits, before Moses and 
 Elias appeared to him on the mountain of the 
 transfiguration. 
 
 We read, Anna and I, two sermons by F. D. 
 Maurice. He has brought out from the passages 
 of the Old Testament, which he read as fixed 
 " lessons of the day," lessons which he has made 
 appropriate to the present day, and has given a 
 vitality to what might become a dead form. 
 
THE BIBLE. 253 
 
 DAVID THE SHEPHERD AND THE OUTLAW. 
 
 " He chose David also his servant, and took him away from the 
 sheepfolds ; as he was following the ewes great with young ones, He 
 took him, that he might feed Jacob his people, and Israel his inher- 
 itance." — Psalm lxxviii. 70, Tl. 
 
 Objectors to the history of the Old Testament 
 have dwelt much upon the title, " the man after 
 God's own heart," which is given so continually 
 to David. " Is he not," they have said, " direct- 
 ly charged with adultery and murder, — murder 
 of a very base kind and for the basest purpose ? 
 Are there not passages in his life recorded with- 
 out condemnation, which are indefensible upon 
 any moral principles which we acknowledge ? 
 Do not some of his worst acts belong to his later 
 years, when one would have expected to see his 
 passions subdued, his higher qualities matured 
 and perfected ? Is this the man whom a right- 
 eous God would declare to be the object of his 
 especial complacency ? What must we think of 
 the book which teaches us to believe that he was 
 thus regarded ? What impressions must it leave 
 upon us of the Divine character, what possible 
 help can it afford us in forming our own ? " 
 
 Divines have very often met these questions 
 with an answer of this kind. " The epithet 
 which you complain of," they have said, " be- 
 longs to David, not personally, but officially. 
 22 
 
254 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 He was called out by God to restore the kingdom 
 which Saul had destroyed, to subdue the Philis- 
 tines and the surrounding nations, to raise up a 
 family of kings of the tribe of Judah. These 
 purposes he accomplished. He did the work 
 which he was appointed to do. He fulfilled God's 
 counsel. So far he was a man after God's own 
 heart. His moral delinquencies are recorded, 
 that we may know where the Divine approbation 
 stops short." 
 
 I believe that this explanation never satisfied 
 the minds of those who availed themselves of it. 
 I am sure that it never satisfied the mind of any 
 simple or devout reader. The notion of official 
 virtue belongs to a very low code of ethics indeed. 
 In a very artificial state of society we sometimes 
 separate the workman from the work ; we speak 
 of that as done faithfully and honestly, while he 
 is unfaithful and dishonest. The possibility of 
 such a separation undoubtedly exists ; but we 
 all know that it is one of the greatest and most 
 frightful anomalies that it should exist ; we all 
 long for the time when it shall exist no longer. 
 Statesmen possessing no high-flown morality, 
 trained in the school of party politics, have re- 
 jected the vulgar distinction between the bad 
 man and the bad king, as inconsistent with ex- 
 perience. Lying, the great sin of the individual, 
 has been proved to be the fatal sin of the mon- 
 
THE BIBLE. 255 
 
 arch, that which makes all aptitude for business, 
 all clearness of perception, all skill in devising 
 theories, even higher qualities than these, practi- 
 cally inefficient, or positively mischievous. How 
 then can a believer in the Bible transfer to it a 
 habit of thinking which we are trying to banish 
 from common life? How can he imagine that 
 the book which he holds to be essentially true, 
 should sanction and consecrate one of our most 
 pernicious falsehoods ? 
 
 A very little reflection upon the words them- 
 selves, still more a slight study of the history of 
 David, should surely have prevented any man 
 from resorting to this kind of apology. " God," 
 we hear again and again in Scripture, " trieth 
 the reins." That general principle is applied 
 expressly to the case of David. The Lord said 
 to Samuel, when he was about to anoint the el- 
 dest son of Jesse, " Man looketh on the outward 
 appearance ; but the Lord looketh on the heart." 
 What can be so direct a contradiction of this 
 statement, as the notion that David was after 
 God's own heart, because he did certain outward 
 acts which were in conformity with the Divine 
 mind and pleasure ? And surely if there is a 
 man in the sacred history or in any history whom 
 it is impossible to think of merely as an official 
 actor, that man is the shepherd-boy who became 
 king of Israel. There is no one who has so 
 
256 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 marked a personality, no one with whose inward 
 life and struggles we are so well acquainted. 
 Whatever he is, we feel that his whole mind and 
 will are thrown into the words which he speaks 
 and the deeds which he does. And in no life are 
 the king and the man so entirely and insepara- 
 bly blended. In his highest raptures, in the ut- 
 terances of his greatest anguish, we are remind- 
 ed continually that he is to become a king, or 
 that he is one. On the other hand, his sins are 
 not treated as what we call, in our artificial no- 
 menclature, private sins ; they are the sins of a 
 king, affecting multitudes besides himself. As 
 such they are denounced, as such they are pun- 
 ished. 
 
 I think it must have been the obviousness of 
 this fact in the Scriptural records, which misled 
 the commentators into this dangerous method of 
 justifying them. They saw that David was spo- 
 ken of as intended by God for a king, while he 
 was a shepherd-boy. They perceived that all his 
 various and romantic adventures were preparing 
 him for a throne ; they were struck with the con- 
 sciousness, in his own mind, of a destiny and a 
 work which were to be accomplished. They 
 could not but be aware, that everything which 
 was greatest, best, purest, in him, had reference 
 to a divine mission which he was to execute for 
 his country. They could not be mistaken that 
 
THE BIBLE. 257 
 
 ho was educated for a special office. Unhappily 
 they forgot to ask themselves what the education 
 for such an office implied, what we are actually 
 told about it in the Bible. Had they followed 
 the guidance of the history for which they were 
 trying to make ingenious excuses, they might 
 have found how trnly the education of the divine 
 king was the education of a man ; they might have 
 come to understand what it was in the old days 
 to be a man after God's own heart, what it is in 
 our days ; they might have attained through that 
 knowledge to a far deeper sense of the nature 
 and cause of David's sins, to a more earnest re- 
 pentance for their own. Some of these blessings 
 may, T hope, come to us, my brethren, while we 
 seek to understand the nature of David's disci- 
 pline. I shall confine myself this afternoon to 
 the years which he passed before the death of 
 Saul, the period which is indicated by the words 
 of the text. The time of his actual government, 
 described in the following sentence, " So he fed 
 them with a faithful and true heart, and ruled 
 them prudently with all his power," I reserve for 
 another occasion. 
 
 When I speak of David as having the con- 
 sciousness of a divine calling or mission in every 
 period of his life, I do not mean that he was 
 haunted in the sheepfolds with dreams of some 
 great honor to come upon him hereafter. Those 
 
 22* 
 
258 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 to whom such dreams come, are commonly im- 
 patient of the mean position in which they find 
 themselves. What I apprehend he felt was, that 
 he had a call to the work in which he was then 
 engaged. He must have believed that the God 
 of his fathers, He and no other, had appointed 
 him to take care of the few sheep in the wilder- 
 ness which Jesse had trusted him with. A strange 
 thought, that the tasks which fell to him because 
 he was the youngest son of the house, could be 
 tasks in which the Most High God, who filled 
 heaven and earth, interested himself. But it 
 was the thought which made David's life tolera- 
 ble to him, the only one which could have ena- 
 bled him to work without becoming the slave of 
 his work. The shepherd's life brought him into 
 wide, open plains, to hill-sides that were lonely 
 by day as well as night. How awful to feel him- 
 self there, him the poor shepherd, an atom amidst 
 the infinity of nature ! But an atom which 
 breathed, which thought, which, in the depth of 
 its nothingness, felt that it was higher and more 
 wonderful than the universe, which was able, 
 and sometimes seemed ready, to crush it. Shep- 
 herd-boy, what art thou ? Child of the covenant, 
 what art thou ? Fearful questions, to which the 
 hills and skies could give no answer. But the 
 boy pursued his task. He led the sheep to their 
 pastures, he took them to the streams, he followed 
 
THE BIBLE. 259 
 
 them into thickets and ravines where they had 
 lost themselves. These poor, silly creatures were 
 worthy of David's diligence. And then the an- 
 swer came, " The Lord is my shepherd ; I shall 
 not want. He maketh me to lie down in green 
 pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. 
 He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness. 
 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the 
 shadow of death, I will fear no evil ; for Thou 
 art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff, they 
 strengthen me." What a revelation to the soul 
 of a youth ! A Guide near him, with him, at 
 every moment, — as actual a guide as he was to 
 the sheep ; a guide who must watch over a mul- 
 titude of separate souls, as he watched over each 
 separate sheep, who must care to bind them to- 
 gether in one, as he cared to bring the sheep into 
 the same fold ! 
 
 Let us not suppose for an instant that David, 
 as he practised these duties and meditated upon 
 them, gained some fine metaphors respecting the 
 relations of faithful men to their Creator, which 
 afterwards served to make him the poet of Israel. 
 These thoughts and the shepherd life did bring 
 forth that divine poetry, just because they were 
 so intensely real, and because it was so intensely 
 real. They sprung out of intense anxieties re- 
 specting himself. What had such anxieties to 
 do with metaphors ? His thoughts associated 
 
260 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 themselves with the humblest toils. What had 
 they to do with metaphors ? His meditations 
 were upon the I AM, upon Him before whom 
 Moses hid his face, who spoke in thunders upon 
 Sinai. How dared he make Him a subject for 
 metaphors ? When God taught David to think 
 of Him as a shepherd, He took away that cold 
 cloud-drapery with which we are wont to invest 
 Him; He brought him into contact with His 
 actual presence and government. And do not 
 fancy that, because this apprehension was direct 
 and personal, it was narrow and local. Then, 
 when he could think of God as one nigh and not 
 afar off; then, when he could believe that He 
 cared for him and cared for each of his brethren ; 
 then he could look up into the open sky with 
 wonder, but without trembling, and say, " When 
 I behold thy heavens, the work of thy hands, 
 the moon and the stars which thou hast ordained ; 
 Lord, whatsis man that thou art mindful of him, 
 and the son of man that thou visitest him ? 
 Thou hast made him a little lower than the an- 
 gels, thou hast crowned him with glory and hon- 
 or. Thou madest him to have dominion over 
 the works of thy hands, — all sheep and oxen, 
 yea, and the beasts of the field. Lord, our 
 Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth ! " 
 Then first all nature could sympathize with him, 
 could call forth instead of crushing the energies 
 
THE BIBLE. 261 
 
 of his own heart. For the heavens, as they shone 
 clear and bright before him after a long night- 
 watching, declared the glory of the God who was 
 his shepherd ; the firmament showed His handi- 
 work. Day unto day, and night unto night, 
 uttered speech and showed knowledge. The sun 
 came out of his bridal chamber, he went forth as 
 a giant rejoicing to run his race, carrying a 
 message to all nations concerning One whose law 
 converted the soul of man, whose statutes made 
 wise the simple. 
 
 This was a hidden education, the education of 
 a young man's heart. But it was cultivating 
 the seeds which were to bring forth fruits in 
 manly acts. Here we are told, in David's words, 
 of some of the earliest of those fruits. " Thy 
 servant kept his father's sheep, and there came a 
 lion and a bear and took a lamb out of the flock. 
 And I went out after him and smote him and de- 
 livered it out of his mouth. And wljen he arose 
 against me, I caught him by the beard and slew 
 him." David was learning the secret of invis- 
 ible strength, what it is, and where and how it 
 works. So there grew in him a scorn of that 
 which lies in bulk and looks terrible to the eye. 
 If the bear and the lion came out against one of 
 his flock, it was his business to encounter them. 
 And seeing that he was a man, made in God's 
 image, made a little lower than the angels, the 
 
262 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 child of God's covenant, he could use the do- 
 minion that God had given to his race. The 
 strength was not his. In that first battle, as in 
 every one he was to fight hereafter, the Lord of 
 Hosts was with him, the God of Jacob was his 
 helper. 
 
 The story tells us that there came to the house 
 of Jesse an old man, whom all knew to be a 
 prophet ; that he came upon a strange errand, 
 which he scarcely understood himself, — to anoint 
 one of the sons of that family ; that the eldest 
 passed before him, and that the prophet was 
 struck by his look and stature, and would have 
 poured the oil on his head ; that he was told 
 that the Lord did not look on the outward ap- 
 pearance, but tried the heart ; that the other 
 sons all passed by ; that one was missing (he be- 
 ing the youngest, and with the sheep) ; that when 
 this youth, ruddy and fair to look upon, came in, 
 Samuel was ]pidden to rise and anoint him. 
 
 Here was the sign that all the inward disci- 
 pline and preparation of David had an object, 
 another object than merely to make him a faith- 
 ful keeper of sheep, or even a wise and righteous 
 man. But a divine sign is not a mere ceremony. 
 It would be deceitful and insincere if there were 
 not a present blessing denoted by it, the commu- 
 nication of an actual power to fit the man for 
 tasks to which he has not hitherto been appoint- 
 
THE BIBLE. 263 
 
 ed. From that day forward, we are told, the 
 Spirit of God came upon David. There was a 
 power within him stirring him to thoughts and 
 acts which connected him directly with Israelites, 
 with human beings. Yet with this new calling, 
 with the consciousness of this new power, he still 
 returned to his old work. It was his till some 
 clear summons drew him from it. It had not 
 lost its sacredness, it could still impart wisdom 
 to one who sought wisdom. There is a time in 
 men's lives, before they enter upon some great 
 work to which they have been consecrated, a time 
 when they are permitted to look back upon the 
 years which they have already past, to see them 
 no longer as fragments, but as linked together, 
 as having a divine purpose running through them 
 which makes even their incoherences and dis- 
 cords intelligible. In such a time of retrospec- 
 tion, when the future is seen mirrored in the past, 
 David may have found his harp muck more than 
 the mere solace of lonely hours, the mere response 
 to his inward sorrows and thanksgivings. He 
 may have begun to know that he was speaking 
 for other men as well as for himself ; that there 
 were close and intimate fibres uniting men ut- 
 terly unlike and separated by tracts of time and 
 space ; that there is some mysterious source of 
 these sympathies, some living Centre who holds 
 together the different portions of each man's life, 
 
2G4 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 and in whom there is a general human life, of 
 which all may partake. The Spirit of God which 
 had taken possession of David may have been 
 teaching him these lessons and inspiring the song 
 which was the utterance of them, before he was 
 prepared to come forth as the actual deliverer. 
 And that Spirit will assuredly have been prepar- 
 ing him for his after conflicts, by making him 
 feel that he had, even then, enemies most fierce 
 to struggle with, subjects most turbulent to sub- 
 due. The invisible God docs not make known 
 to man that he is his Shepherd, without making 
 known to him also that there are invisible pow-. 
 ers more fearful than bears and lions, which 
 would tear his flock asunder, which would bring 
 each separate sheep into the valley of the shadow 
 of death. It may be true that the Psalms of 
 David which speak most of enemies belong to a 
 later period than this, when he was wrestling 
 with flesh and blood ; but those Psalms would 
 not have been what they are, they would not 
 have expressed the fears and confidence of suf- 
 fering people in all times, if the writer of them 
 had not been trained to perceive what are the 
 real and universal foes of God's creatures, before 
 he had to engage with those who were torment- 
 ing him and his people. 
 
 The passage of the Book of Samuel which de- 
 scribes the battle of David with Goliath, is called 
 
THE BIBLE. 265 
 
 by somo of the wise men in our day a fragment 
 from the heroic legends of the Hebrew people. 
 I suppose this phraseology conveys some new and 
 striking impression to the minds of those who 
 use it, or it could not have become so popular as 
 it is, here and elsewhere. I confess the old child- 
 ish notion of a battle between a man with shield 
 and buckler, and greaves of brass, and a youth 
 with a ruddy countenance who went forth with 
 his sling and stone in the name of the Lord God 
 of Israel, gives me a sense of reality, which I miss 
 altogether in the modern substitute for it. Why 
 the story should be looked upon as an interpolat- 
 ed fragment I cannot conceive. It is entirely 
 in the spirit of all that goes before and of all that 
 follows. David no doubt became a hero in the 
 eyes of the men and the virgins of Israel. But 
 nothing is said by the historian to make us think 
 him a hero. He comes down with food and a 
 message from his father to his brothers ; he hears 
 from them only scornful words about the sheep 
 he has left in the wilderness ; Saul smiles at his 
 boldness in thinking he can meet the Philistines ; 
 Goliath laughs at him, and curses him by his 
 gods. Everything is said to make us feel the 
 feebleness of the Israelitish champion ; every- 
 thing to remind us that the nation of Israel was 
 the witness for the nothingness of man in himself, 
 for the might of man when he knows that he is 
 
 23 
 
266 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 nothing, and puts his trust in the living God. 
 We may write the Bible again ; but as long as it 
 remains what it is, this must be the sense of it. 
 And this is the sense which human beings want 
 now as in the times of old. We want to be re- 
 minded, as much in the age of all mechanical 
 inventions and triumphs as in the age of great- 
 est barbarism, that the shield and the helmet, 
 and the greaves of brass, do not constitute 
 strength ; that the sling and the stone in the 
 hand of one who believes in invisible power, are 
 ever the symbols and pledges of victory. If to 
 disbelieve this is to cast off Hebrew old clothes, 
 it is also to put on the most vulgar, worn-out 
 garments of tyranny and superstition ; it is to fall 
 down and worship brute force, to declare that to 
 be the Lord. How soon we may come through 
 our refinements, our civilization, our mock hero- 
 worship, to that last and most shameful prostra- 
 tion of the human spirit, God only knows. But 
 He does know. And because He lives and is true, 
 He will make it manifest in his own due time, 
 that the law of his universe is not changed, and 
 that by that law all true strength must be made 
 perfect in weakness. 
 
 David, however, did become a hero in the 
 sight of the people ; they celebrated in their songs 
 and dances the shepherd who had become the 
 son of the king, and who slew his ten thousands, 
 
THE BIBLE. 267 
 
 while Saul slew his "thousands. A fearful crisis 
 surely for him who had been learning by such 
 slow, silent discipline, and now by such a signal 
 triumph, whence all glory comes ! A dizzy 
 height for a man to stand upon, who had also re- 
 ceived the mysterious anointing, and who might 
 well dream that a kingdom was within his reach ! 
 He must have learned then, that there were 
 stronger and nearer enemies than Goliath, who 
 might turn his boast into confusion, his life into 
 a lie. He must have struggled hard with those 
 enemies ; for we are told that he behaved him- 
 self prudently, that he was glad to soothe Saul 
 when he was tormented by his evil spirit, that he 
 fled from him instead of provoking his wrath. 
 But if he had been under no better conduct than 
 his own, his prudence, and the higher wisdom 
 which was the source of it, would both have for- 
 saken him ; he would have snatched at a power 
 which he could only turn to the ruin of those 
 over whom he exercised it. Ho was under a 
 Teacher who did not leave him to himself, who 
 was leading him through the terrible discipline 
 of flattery, as He had through the quieter and 
 safer experiences of his youth, to understand 
 what a king is and what his dangers are ; and 
 who had yet higher lessons for him, to be learnt 
 in another way. 
 
 David as an outlaw is to many a far less pleas- 
 
268 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 ant subjeet of contemplation than the same Da- 
 vid as a shepherd, or as the champion of Israel. 
 Most people feel the beauty of the story of Jona- 
 than's love for him, which binds these two por- 
 tions of his history together. They can understand 
 that the man who called forth such affections 
 must have had deeper qualities in him than those 
 which command the admiration of a multitude, 
 — if this admiration was not itself paid to those 
 qualities, to the frank, warm, trustful heart which 
 spoke out in his deeds, rather than to the deeds 
 merely in themselves. But the captain " to whom 
 every one resorted that was in distress, and every 
 one who was discontented," the freebooter who 
 made a foray one day upon the Philistines, and 
 another went down to punish Nabal for not giv- 
 ing food to support his followers, affronts all our 
 notions of what is decorous, and makes us think 
 that we are reading the exploits of a border chief, 
 rather than a passage of a divine record. We 
 certainly should not shrink from describing Da- 
 vid in the terms in which the Bible itself de- 
 scribes him, nor try to make out a case for him 
 or it by distorting a single fact, even by giving 
 it a different color from that which it would have 
 if we found it elsewhere. If we met with the 
 tale as simply told in a profane author, we should 
 admit that many of the acts attributed to David, 
 however strange and out of place they would be 
 
THE BIBLE. 269 
 
 in an ordinary legal condition of society, were 
 perfectly just and honorable wjien all formal bonds 
 were broken ; some of them (e. g. his conduct to 
 Achish) we should say were natural, but not 
 justifiable, in his circumstances or any other cir- 
 cumstances. We cannot vary our language be- 
 cause the standard of the book we are reading is 
 more divine. The difference is, that while the 
 Bible sets before us broadly and without comment 
 just the temptations which a man in such a po- 
 sition would be likely to fall into, and leaves it 
 to our conscience, enlightened by its own teach- 
 ing, to say when he did or did not fall into them, 
 it takes still more pains to make us understand 
 what the man himself was, the purpose of his 
 being, the light by which he was guided. David, 
 in the cave of Adullam, amidst his wild, reckless 
 comrades, is essentially the same man as David 
 in the sheepfolds, or David fighting the Philis- 
 tine. He had not chosen his own circumstances, 
 he had been thrown into them. He did not rebel 
 against Saul. He did not deny his authority, or 
 plot against his life, even when he had cast him 
 off. He had no home, and he was compelled to 
 seek one where he could. I do not know where 
 a better home could have been provided for him 
 than among these men in distress, in debt, in 
 discontent. If it behooved a ruler to know the 
 heart of his subjects, their sorrows, their wrongs, 
 
 23* 
 
270 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 their crimes, to know them and to sympathize 
 with them, this was surely as precious a part of 
 his schooling as the solitude of his boyhood, or 
 as any intercourse he had with easy men who 
 had never faced the misery of the world, and had 
 never had any motive to quarrel with its laws. 
 He was now among the lowest of those whom he 
 would afterwards have to govern, not hearing at 
 a distance of their doings and sufferings, but par- 
 taking in them livingly ; realizing the influences 
 which were disposing them to evil. And here 
 he was acquiring more real reverence for law 
 and order, more understanding of their nature, 
 than those can ever arrive at who have never 
 known the need of them from the want of them. 
 He was bringing his wild followers under a lov- 
 ing discipline and government which they had 
 never experienced; he was teaching them to con- 
 fess a law, which no tyrant had created, no anarchy 
 could set aside. He instructed them by his exam- 
 ple to bow before female grace and gentleness, to 
 reverence the person of an enemy, to treat a king 
 as the Lord's anointed. " Come, ye children," he 
 says in a Psalm which a reasonable Jewish tradi- 
 tion connects with this part of his life,- — " Come, 
 ye children, and I will teach you the fear of the 
 Lord. What man is he that lusteth to live and 
 would fain see good days ? Keep thy tongue 
 from evil, and thy lips that they speak no guile. 
 
THE BIBLE. 271 
 
 Eschew evil and do good ; seek peace and pursue 
 it The eyes of the Lord are over the righteous ; 
 his ears are open to their cry." This is no dull 
 sermon of a man discoursing to wretched people 
 against sins to which he has no mind. It is the 
 honest, hearty, sympathetic voice" of a captain 
 speaking to a band, each one of whom he knows, 
 telling him of a right way which they may follow 
 together, and of a wrong way into which he is as 
 much in danger of straying as themselves. He 
 speaks to them of a God who thinks of them, who 
 is watching over them, who does not despise their 
 poverty, who will avenge their wrongs ; but who 
 desires above all that they should be right, who 
 is willing and able to make them right. 
 
 And this was the lesson which David was at 
 the same time taking home to his own inmost 
 heart. Through oppression, confusion, lawless- 
 ness, he was learning the eternal and essential 
 righteousness of God. He had been taught to 
 despise the brute force of the lion and the bear 
 and the Philistine before ; he was now taught to 
 despise all power whatsoever, lodged in men cir- 
 cumcised or uncircumcised, which was maintain- 
 ing itself against right. He was set in the throne 
 who judged right. " Hear the right ; attend unto 
 my cry!" he could say, with confidence that the 
 prayer would at last be answered. He was sure 
 that, though the kings of the earth might gather 
 
272 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 together, and say, " Let us break these bands of 
 right asunder, and cast away these cords from 
 us," He that sitteth in the heavens would laugh, 
 the Lord would have them in derision. He had 
 set His righteous king upon the holy hill of Zion, 
 and all the nations must do him homage. 
 
 The time came when David's faith in the ex- 
 istence of a righteous kingdom, which had its 
 ground in the unseen world, and which might 
 exhibit itself really though not perfectly in this, 
 was to be brought to the severest of all trials. 
 Saul died on the mountains of Gilboa : the Phil- 
 istines possessed themselves of the cities of Israel. 
 The new mode of government for which the peo- 
 ple craved so earnestly had been tried, — they 
 had become like the countries round about, — 
 these countries were now their masters. They 
 had gained such a king as they had imagined, — 
 a leader of their hosts. They had lost law, dis- 
 cipline, and fellowship ; now their hosts had per- 
 ished. Could there come order out of this chaos ? 
 Whence was it to come ? From a band of free- 
 booters ? That was to be seen. If the chief of 
 this band thought of setting up a dominion for 
 himself, of making his followers possessors of the 
 lands from which they had been driven out, of 
 putting down his private enemies, of rising by 
 the arms of soldiers and the choice of a faction 
 to be a tyrant, his life would be merely a vulgar 
 
THE BIBLE. 273 
 
 tale, such as age after age, civilized and barbar- 
 ous, has to record, — a tale that would be merely 
 dull and flat from its frequent repetition, from 
 the utter absence of anything but the lowest 
 purposes and the pettiest plotting in the actor, 
 if we could lose the sad reflection that millions 
 of human beings are interested in events which 
 the on-looker may be disposed to regard with in- 
 difference or contempt, and the consolatory rec- 
 ollection, that, by the crimes of foolish, feeble 
 men, God is bringing forth his wisdom and right- 
 eousness into clear light. But if David took this 
 disordered, miserable country of his fathers into 
 his hands, not as a prize which he had won, but 
 as a heavy a»d awful trust that was committed 
 to him, a trust for which he had been prepared 
 in the sheepfolds, which he could only adminis- 
 ter while he remembered that the Lord was his 
 Shepherd and that He was the Shepherd of every 
 Israelite and of every man on the earth, — then, 
 however hopeless seemed the materials with which 
 he had to work, and which he had to mould, he 
 might believe confidently that he should be in his 
 own day the restorer of Israel, and the witness 
 and prophet of the complete restoration of it and 
 of mankind. 
 
 This, brethren, was the man after God's own 
 heart, the man who thoroughly believed in God, 
 as a living and righteous Being ; who in all 
 
274 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 changes of fortune clung to that conviction ; who 
 could act upon it, live upon it ; who could give 
 himself up to God to use him as he pleased ; who 
 could be little or great, popular or contemptible, 
 just as God saw fit that he should be ; who could 
 walk on in darkness secure of nothing but this, 
 that truth must prevail at last, and that he was 
 sent into the world to live and die that it might 
 prevail ; who was certain that the triumph of 
 the God of Heaven would be for the blessing of 
 the most miserable outcasts upon earth. Have 
 we asked ourselves how the Scripture can dare 
 to represent a man with David's many failings, 
 with that eager, passionate temper which evident- 
 ly belonged to him, with all the manifold tempta- 
 tions which accompany a vehement, sympathetic 
 character, with the great sins which we shall 
 be told of hereafter, as one who could share the 
 counsels and do the will of a Holy Being ? 0, 
 rather let us ask ourselves, whether, with a plau- 
 sible exterior, a respectable behavior, an unim- 
 peachable decorum in the sight of men, we can 
 ever win this smile, hear this approving sentence. 
 The words, " Well done, good and faithful ser- 
 vant," are not spoken by the Judge of all now, 
 will not be spoken in the last day, to him who 
 has found,, in his pilgrimage through this world, 
 no enemies to fight with, no wrongs to be re- 
 dressed, no right to be maintained. How many 
 
THE BIBLE. 275 
 
 of us feel, ill looking back upon acts which the 
 world has not condemned, which friends have per- 
 haps applauded, " We had no serious purpose 
 there ; we merely did what it was seemly and 
 convenient to do ; we were not yielding to God's 
 righteous will ; we were not inspired by His 
 love " ! How many of us feel that our bitterest 
 repentances are to be for this, — that all things 
 have gone so smoothly with us, because we did 
 not care to make the world better or to be better 
 ourselves ! How many of us feel that those who 
 have committed grave outward transgressions, 
 into which we have not fallen because the mo- 
 tives to them were not present with us, or because 
 God's grace kept us hedged round by influences 
 which resisted them, may nevertheless have had 
 hearts which answered more to God's heart, 
 which entered far more into the grief and the joy 
 of his Spirit, than ours ever did ! And that such 
 lamentations for the past may not be fruitless, let 
 us ask, for the time to come, that he may not be 
 of the class which Christ describes by the mouth 
 of his Apostle, as neither hot nor cold ; that He 
 will fill us with a burning zeal in his service ; 
 that He will make us indifferent where or among 
 whom our lot is cast, among princes or among 
 outlaws, whether we are respected or scorned ; 
 so long as we may but testify to all, that He who 
 took upon him the form of a servant, He who was 
 
276 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 despised and rejected of men, the true Man after 
 God's own heart, the Son of David and the Son 
 of God, is the present and eternal Shepherd, to 
 ■whom the weary and wandering may turn for 
 help and guidance now, since he has passed 
 through the valley of the shadow of death for 
 them ; from whom they may expect fuller deliv- 
 erence hereafter, seeing that He must reign till 
 He has put all enemies under his feet. 
 
 DAVID THE KING. 
 
 " And David perceived that the Lord had established him king over 
 Israel, and that he had exalted his kingdom for his people Israel's 
 sake." — 2 Samuel v. 12. 
 
 This language, some may think, would have 
 been suitable and pious, if an extraordinary, evi- 
 dently miraculous event had raised David to the 
 throne of Israel. Such an event might have* en- 
 abled him to perceive that he was divinely elected 
 to reign ; he might have continued to reign with 
 the same comfortable assurance. But he ap- 
 pears to have risen quite as slowly — under the 
 same course of accidents — as other leaders of 
 troops in tolerably quiet conditions of society, to 
 say nothing of those which are utterly anarchical. 
 He belonged to an honorable tribe, he had per- 
 formed great exploits, he had strong popular sym- 
 
THE BIBLE. 277 
 
 patliy with him, increased by the unfair treat- 
 ment he had undergone from Saul. He had the 
 command of a body of compact, devoted, even 
 desperate followers. Saul and Jonathan were 
 dead. Battles and assassinations, perpetrated by 
 men hoping to gain rewards from him, or under 
 the influence of private enmity, removed his 
 rivals out of his way. What man, who has not 
 taken some very outrageous method of establish- 
 ing his power, might not say that the Lord had 
 bestowed his dominion upon him, if that phrase 
 became the lips of the shepherd sovereign ? 
 
 This is a question which I am not able to an- 
 swer. I do not know what king might not safely 
 adopt these words, and ought not to adopt them. 
 The danger, I fancy, lies in the disbelief of them, 
 or in the idle use of them when no definite mean- 
 ing is attached to them. So far from admitting 
 that David would have had more right, or would 
 have been more likely, to think and speak as he 
 did, if some angel suddenly appearing had placed 
 the crown upon his head, I apprehend that the 
 strength and liveliness of his conviction arose 
 from the number of conspiring accidents, often 
 seemingly cross accidents, which had led him in- 
 to so new and dangerous a position. It was the 
 successiveness, the continuity, of the steps in his 
 history, which assured him that God's hand had 
 been directing the whole of it. One startling 
 
 24 
 
278 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 event would have made no such impression upon 
 him. That he might have referred to chance, or 
 to the rare irregular interference of an omnipo- 
 tent being. Only such a being as the Lord God 
 of .Abraham, only one who had guided each pa- 
 triarch and the whole nation from age to age 
 through strange unknown ways, could have woven 
 the web of his destinies, could have controlled 
 his proceedings and the proceedings of indif- 
 ferent, of unrighteous men. Had David, instead 
 of maintaining the ground which circumstances 
 pointed out to him as his, seized violently that 
 which was not his, he would not have perceived 
 that the Lord had made him king of Israel ; he 
 would have felt that he had made himself so, and 
 would have acted upon that persuasion. 
 
 For the two clauses of the sentence are inti- 
 mately and inseparably connected. David per- 
 ceived that God had established his kingdom, and 
 he knew that He had exalted it for his people Is- 
 rael's sake. A government which a man wins for 
 himself he uses for himself. That which he in- 
 wardly and practically acknowledges as conferred 
 upon him by a righteous being, cannot be intend- 
 ed for himself. And thus it is, that the early and 
 mysterious teaching of David while he was in the 
 sheepfolds, bore so mightily upon his life after he 
 became a king. The deepest lesson which he had 
 learnt was, that he himself was under govern- 
 
THE BIBLE. 279 
 
 ment ; that in his heart and will was the inmost 
 circle of that authority which the winds and the 
 sea, the moon and the stars, obeyed. We have 
 seen how the sense of this invisible kingdom was 
 awakened in him, how it was quickened by all 
 joyful and bitter experiences, by the care of sheep 
 and the society of outlaws. To understand that 
 the empire over wills and hearts is the highest 
 which man can exercise, because it is the highest 
 which God exercises ; to understand that his em- 
 pire cannot be one of rough compulsion, because 
 the divinest power is not of this kind ; to under- 
 stand that the necessity for stern, quick, inevitable 
 punishment arises from the unwillingness of men 
 to abide under a yoke of grace and gentleness ; to 
 understand that the law looks terrible and over- 
 whelming to the wrong-doer, just because he has 
 shaken off his relation to the Person from whom 
 law issues, in whom dwells all humanity and sym- 
 pathy, all forgiveness and reclaiming mercy, — 
 this was the highest privilege of a Jewish king, 
 that upon which the rightful exercise of all his 
 functions depended. 
 
 Two memorable passages in the history of 
 David, the establishment of his capital, and the 
 removal of the ark to the hill above it, illustrate 
 the principles upon which his kingdom stood, and 
 show wherein it differed from the great Asiatic 
 empires which were contemporary with it, and 
 
280 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 which had existed nearly in the same form per- 
 haps centuries before the birth of Abraham. The 
 first sign of the unity of these monarchies was 
 the building of some great city, Babylon, or 
 Calah, or Nineveh. The inhabitants of such cit- 
 ies felt that they were a people, because they were 
 compassed with walls. Within those walls there 
 speedily were built temples to some of the pow- 
 ers of nature which they feared. Yery soon, as 
 we now have such good means of knowing, the 
 arts of sculpture came forth, doing honor to ani- 
 mal forms, which for their strength or their swift- 
 ness were believed to be divine. With a great 
 hunter as a ruler, with one of these cities as the 
 centre of their strength, with divinities thus con- 
 ceived and visibly represented as their protectors, 
 these Asiatic worlds continually enlarged their 
 limits, absorbed new tribes into themselves, ac- 
 quired the titles of conquest and glory for one or 
 another of their temporary masters. The com- 
 monwealth of Israel began in open plains and 
 pastures. A single man, who had not a foot of 
 earth for his possession, was its founder. A fam- 
 ily of colonists, still dwelling on a land which 
 was not theirs, succeeded to him. These became 
 a race of Egyptian captives. They acquired laws, 
 festivals, a polity, first in a wilderness. They 
 struggled hard for generations with the corrupted 
 people of the land into which they came. Only 
 
THE BIBLE. 281 
 
 after centuries of conflicts, discomfitures, humili- 
 ations, they acquired a king, and a city -which he 
 could make the centre of their tribes. But these 
 had been centuries of moral and political progress, 
 of the deepest experiences for individuals and for 
 the whole nation, respecting the grounds of their 
 social existence and the relation in which they 
 stood to the visible and invisible world. All this 
 time they had been learning to worship a Being 
 who was not to be made in the likeness of things 
 in heaven above or in the earth beneath ; to ap- 
 prehend him as a present, unseen Lawgiver, 
 Judge, Deliverer, in whom they might put their 
 trust. They learnt that a nation built upon fear 
 and distrust must be evil while it lasts, and must 
 at length come to ruin. Here are the two kinds 
 of civilization ; the civic life, the life of cities, is 
 in one the beginning, is in the other the result, of 
 a long process. But in the first you have a des- 
 potism, which becomes more expansive and more 
 oppressive from day to day : expansive everywhere 
 except in the spirits of those it rules ; they are 
 more contracted from year to year : oppressive of 
 everything but crime and disorder ; they possess 
 growing activity and freedom. In the other case, 
 you have a struggle, sometimes a weary struggle ; 
 but it is the struggle of spirits, it is a struggle for 
 life. And God himself is helping that struggle, 
 is working with and for the spirits whom he has 
 
 24* 
 
282 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 formed, is bringing them out of darkness into an 
 ever clearer and broader light, out of confusion 
 into a real, at last even to something like a visi- 
 ble and outward unity. 
 
 But this unity does not stand in the walls of 
 the capital city, even though that city be the holy 
 city and the city of peace. When David had 
 made this conquest from the Jebusites, and had 
 set up his throne in it, he was impatient till he 
 had brought the ark of God there, and placed it, 
 with songs and shoutings and dancings, on the 
 holy hill. That ark had been the witness to the 
 people that they were one people, because they 
 had the one God dwelling in the midst of them 
 while they were shifting their tents continu- 
 ally in the wilderness, perishing from heat and 
 drought, sighing for the slavery, if they might 
 but have the flesh-pots, of Egypt. It was to be 
 the witness of the same truth to those who were 
 dwelling in settled habitations, who were under 
 a native government, whose hunger and thirst 
 were not quenched by manna from heaven or by 
 water from a rock, but by the produce of ordi- 
 nary fields and fountains. It spoke to them, as it 
 had to the others, of a permanent Being, of a right- 
 eous Being, always above his creatures, always 
 desiring fellowship with them, a fellowship which 
 they could only realize when they were seeking 
 to be like him. " Lord, who shall ascend to thy 
 
THE BIBLE. 283 
 
 tabernacle ? Who shall dwell in thy holy hill ? " 
 — so spake David as he brought the ark to its 
 resting-place. — " Even he that hath clean hands 
 and a pure heart, who hath not lifted up his eyes 
 unto vanity, nor sworn to deceive his neighbor." 
 
 The moral being of the nation, then, as of each 
 individual of it, stood in the confession of a Per- 
 son absolutely good, the ground of all goodness 
 in his creatures, accessible to them while they 
 sought him with fear and reverence as the King, 
 Protector, Friend, of each and of all. There 
 could be no lesson to a king so deep and solemn 
 as this, respecting the nature, condition, and bul- 
 warks of his own authority ; no warning so fear- 
 ful against forgetting that the bond which united 
 him to his subjects was also the bond which 
 united him to God. He ruled so long as his 
 throne was based upon righteousness ; the mo- 
 ment he sought for any other foundation, he 
 would become weak and contemptible. All Da- 
 vid's discipline had been designed to settle him 
 in this truth. He was the man after God's own 
 heart, because he so graciously received that 
 discipline and imbibed that truth. The signal 
 sin of his life confirmed it still more mightily for 
 himself and for all ages to come. 
 
 I have shown in what respect David was not 
 an ordinary Oriental monarch, but the very op- 
 posite of one. The history tells us as plainly, 
 
284 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 that there were points in which he resembled the 
 sovereigns of the East of that day, and the Ca- 
 liphs and Sultans of later times. He had his 
 wives and his concubines. No divine edict told 
 him that such indulgence was unlawful. For 
 thanks be to God, though he makes use of edicts 
 and statutes, it is not by these mainly that he 
 rules the universe. The Bible, as we have seen, 
 is from first to last the history of a practical edu- 
 cation, God leading men by slow degrees to enter 
 into his mind and purposes, and to mould their, 
 own into conformity with his. If we want ex- 
 emplifications of all the miseries and curses which 
 spring from the mixture of families and the deg- 
 radation of women in a court and country where 
 polygamy exists, David's history supplies them. 
 No maxims of morality can be half so effectual 
 as a faithful record of terrible facts like these. 
 But the thorough correction of this monstrous 
 evil, the full assertion of the principle which is. 
 opposed to it, could not, so far as we may judge, 
 be brought out in that stage of the history of 
 society. In later times of the Jewish common- 
 wealth, when the royal power had ceased, when 
 the people had been more instructed in the oppo- 
 sition between their own polity and that of the 
 Asiatic despotisms, there was a very evident awa- 
 kening of the conscience upon this subject, a grow- 
 ing anticipation of the principle which Christen- 
 
THE BIBLE. 285 
 
 dom has adopted and canonized. The like feeling, 
 however resisted by evil passions and a corrupt 
 mythology, it pleased God to awaken in some of 
 the Pagan nations of the West, — in Greece, in 
 Rome, among the Teutonic tribes. The instinc- 
 tive recognition of the true law of marriage was 
 a preparation — the most wonderful, perhaps, of 
 all — for the revelation of the one Lord and Hus- 
 band of Humanity. Certainly wherever polygamy 
 exists there is the most fatal resistance to that 
 revelation ; certainly also, wherever the fact of 
 Christ's incarnation is acknowledged, there is a 
 horror of polygamy which can be explained by 
 no arguments, which resists all subtilties of logic, 
 all pretended authority from the example of pa- 
 triarchs, which prohibits by a fixed law what was 
 esteemed innocent and regal among those who 
 lived before the kingdom of Heaven was pro- 
 claimed, even though they might be the prophets 
 of it. 
 
 These facts must be borne in mind, if we 
 would understand what constituted that guilt of 
 David which the Prophet Nathan brought home 
 to him by the story of the ewe-lamb. For a king 
 to take the wife of a poor man, — how light a 
 fault may this have appeared to one with the 
 power and privileges wjiich David possessed ! 
 Supposing there was a fixed law against adultery, 
 did this law apply to the ruler of the land ? was 
 
286 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 he not in some sense above law ? Such are the 
 arguments and sophistries which would occur to 
 one who was wrestling with his conscience, either 
 to give him leave to commit a wrong, or not to 
 torment him for it when it was done. And then 
 if the husband of this woman stood in the way of 
 the full gratification of his purpose, or of the 
 concealment of it, was there anything strange 
 that he, who was exposing thousands of his sub- 
 jects to the chances of battle and death, should 
 expose this one ? Why was his life more precious 
 than that of any other Israelite ? Was it precious 
 simply because it was convenient to his master 
 that he should lose it ? And so the deeds were 
 done. Bathsheba was taken ; Joab, by David's 
 order, put Uriah in an exposed place, where he 
 was sure to be slain. And David, no doubt, per- 
 formed all his official tasks as before, went daily 
 to the services of the tabernacle, was probably 
 most severe in enforcing punishments upon all 
 wrong-doers. That characteristic feature of a 
 transgressor, his rapid and bitter condemnation 
 of other transgressors, is strikingly preserved in 
 the Scripture portrait. " And David's anger was 
 greatly kindled against the rich man who had 
 stolen the poor man's lamb. And he said, ' The 
 man who hath done this thing shall surely die.' " 
 This energy of virtue, this mighty effort to get 
 credit with one's self for a lively sense of right 
 
THE BIBLE. 287 
 
 and hatred of injustice, — who does not recog- 
 nize it ? Who should not tremble while he thinks, 
 The evil spirit who prompts to this consummate 
 deceit and hypocrisy, is near to me ; I am tempt- 
 ed continually to fly from the light which would 
 show me the foul spots in my own soul, by pro- 
 jecting them outside of me, and pronouncing sen- 
 tence upon them in another man. But how satis- 
 factory to think, that, while all this was at work 
 in David's heart, it was not left to the ease and 
 comfort which, no doubt, it was seeking for, and 
 striving by all artifices to secure. What availed 
 it that he could so plausibly justify the acts he 
 had done, and give them gentle names, and could 
 prove that they were not adultery and murder 
 in him, though they might be in any one else ? 
 What availed it that he could look back to holy 
 prayers and songs in the night, and evident tokens 
 that God was with him. What availed it to argue 
 that he must be the same man now that he had 
 ever been ? There was a voice near him saying, 
 " Thou hast done it, and thou canst not change it. 
 God is no respecter of persons. It signifies noth- 
 ing to him that thou art called king, or saint, or 
 psalmist. Thy heart is not at one with him, and 
 thou knowest it. Thou art living in a lie, and 
 thou knowest it. Thou art a miserable heartless 
 man at this time, and thou knowest it. And to 
 have been called the man after God's own heart, 
 
288 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 is nothing at all to thee. It only adds a sting and 
 bitterness to thy present self-condemnation, such 
 as another could not feel." He understood this 
 voice afterwards Then the effect of it was mere 
 anarchy, and restlessness of mind, — a condition 
 in which man hates his fellows and wishes to dis- 
 believe in God, and dares not. " When I held 
 my tongue," he says, " my bones waxed old 
 through my daily complaining. For thy hand 
 was heavy upon me. My moisture was turned 
 into the drought of summer." No language ever 
 described so vividly the sense of a weight at the 
 heart, a weight that cannot be lifted ; and it was 
 the weight of God's own presence, of that pres- 
 ence which he had once spoken of as the fulness 
 of joy. With this oppression, like that of the 
 air before a thunder-storm, came the drying up of 
 all the moisture and freshness of life, the parch- 
 ing heat of fever. Did the Prophet Nathan bring 
 all this to his consciousness ? No, surely. The 
 Prophet Nathan came at the appointed moment, 
 to tell him in clear words, by a living instance, 
 that which he had been hearing in muttered ac- 
 cents within his heart for months before. He 
 came to tell him that the % God of righteousness 
 and mercy, who cared for Uriah, the poor man 
 with the single ewe-lamb, was calling him, the 
 king, to account, for an act of unrighteousness 
 and unmercifulness. Nathan brought him to face 
 
THE BIBLE. . 289" 
 
 steadily the light at which he had been winking, 
 and to own that the light was good, that it was 
 the darkness only which was horrible and hateful ; 
 *so that he might turn to the light, and crave that 
 it should once more penetrate into the depths of 
 his being and take possession of him. 
 
 And this was his confession and prayer. He 
 makes out no case for himself; he pleads no ex- 
 tenuating circumstances. I myself have sinned, 
 and done this evil in thy sight. My joy is in the 
 thought, that Thou wilt be clear when Thou art 
 judged. Tf I did not believe that Thou art al- 
 together just and righteous and true, I could 
 have no hope. Because Thou art this, I believe 
 that Thou canst and wilt make me a clean heart, 
 and renew a right spirit within me. It is not the 
 misery which Thou wilt lay upon me for my sin, 
 that I dread ; the misery is to be false, and to 
 continue in a falsehood. But Thou desirest truth 
 in the inward parts, and Thou canst make me to 
 understand wisdom secretly. I fancied, till Thou 
 didst find me out, that I could make peace with 
 Thee by offering sacrifices. But Thou desirest 
 not sacrifice, else would I give it Thee. Thou 
 thyself must give the sacrifice that we may offer 
 it. This one of a broken and contrite heart which 
 Thou hast given to me,-I offer to Thee, and Thou 
 wilt not despise it. When Thou hast restored 
 the king to his right state, and built up again the 
 
 25 
 
290 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 walls of the city which Thou hast promised to 
 bless, then indeed we may come and offer bul- 
 locks upon Thy altar, the expressions of united 
 submission of kings and people to Thee, their 
 just and forgiving King and Lord. 
 
 What was the answer to this prayer ? First, 
 the death of Bathsheba's child ; next, the discov- 
 ery of hateful crimes in his household ; finally, 
 the revolt of the beloved Absalom. These — 
 answers to a prayer for forgiveness ? Yes, if for- 
 giveness means what David took it to mean, hav- 
 ing truth in the inward parts, knowing wisdom 
 secretly. He had had falsehood in his inward 
 parts ; he had cherished the delusion that he was 
 free to do what he liked, that laws and rules were 
 not for him, that he might use a subject at his 
 pleasure. The taking the sins home to himself, 
 instead of imputing them to circumstances or to 
 God, had brought him into fellowship with Truth 
 once more. He had known folly secretly ; he had 
 dallied with silly, childish excuses ; he had lost 
 all freedom and manliness of spirit. Now he had 
 desired to be Wisdom's pupil again. He had be- 
 gun, with more prostration of heart than ever 
 before, to learn her lessons. And she would as- 
 suredly not leave him till she had written them 
 upon his mind. To have his people's heart stolen 
 from him, to have his child for his enemy, to be 
 deserted by his counsellors and his wives, to lose 
 
THE BIBLE. 291 
 
 his kingdom, to be mocked and cursed, — this 
 was rough discipline surely. But he had desired 
 it ; he had said deliberately, " Make me a clean 
 heart, and renew a right spirit within me." And 
 that blessing, — if it was granted him in part at 
 once, if he rose up from that very prayer a freed 
 man with a free spirit, — yet was to be realized 
 through his whole life, and to be secured by 
 methods which he certainly would not have de- 
 vised or chosen for himself. 
 
 But, as in all his past history, the discipline 
 was not for him more than for his people, not for 
 his people more than for all ages to come. The 
 kingly lesson and the human lesson are nowhere 
 more intimately united than here. That which 
 enabled David', crushed and broken, to be more 
 than ever the man after God's own heart, to see 
 more than ever into the depths of wisdom and 
 love in that heart, was also that which fitted him 
 to be a ruler, by understanding the only con- 
 dition on which it is possible for a man to exer- 
 cise real dominion over others, namely, when he 
 gives up himself, that they may know God, and 
 not him, to be their sovereign. 
 
 Those who administered the affairs of the Eng- 
 lish Church in the early years of the reign of 
 Charles II. chose the passage of the Book of Sam- 
 uel which describes David's return to his king- 
 dom, for the service on the 29th of May. There 
 
292 p THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 was a solemn warning in their selection. History 
 lias turned it into bitter irony. The nse of this 
 lesson forbids us to forget the certain and terrible 
 truth, that years of hard adversity and suffering 
 do not of themselves fit a man to reign ; that 
 they may be worse than wasted upon him ; that 
 he may come out of them more reckless and 
 heartless, more ignorant of any government ex- 
 ercised over himself, less conscious of any respon- 
 sibility for the government which he exercises 
 over others, than he went into them. For our 
 own individual benefit, as well as for the sake of 
 nations, we should lay this doctrine, hard though 
 it be, to heart. Adversity" is in itself as little 
 gracious as prosperity. Moral death may be the 
 fruit of one, as much as of the other. It was 
 otherwise with David, not because adversity had 
 any especial influence over him which it has not 
 over us, but because he accepted it as God's pun- 
 ishment and medicine, because he believed that 
 God would do the good for him which adversity 
 could not do. 
 
 One of the best proofs, it seems to me, that his 
 schooling was effectual, is this, that all his family 
 griefs, his experience of his own evil, the deser- 
 tion of his subjects, did not lead him to fancy that 
 he should be following a course acceptable to God, 
 if he retired to the deserts, or ceased to be a shep- 
 herd of Israel, instead of doing the work which 
 
THE BIBLE. 293 
 
 was appointed for him. It shows how healthy 
 and true his repentance and faith were, that he 
 again set himself to organize the people and to 
 fight their battles, to feed them and rule them 
 with all his power, when a religious prudence or 
 self-interest might have whispered, " Do thy best 
 to make amends by services to God for the ills 
 thou hast done ; save thyself, whatever becomes 
 of thy people Israel." These ungodly suggestions 
 the like of which came as angels of light to so 
 many Christian monarchs in the Middle Ages and 
 sent them to do penance for their evils and to seek 
 a crown of glory in monasteries, may have pre- 
 sented themselves to the man after God's own 
 heart. If they did, he proved his title to the 
 name by rejecting them. He showed that he 
 could trust God to put him in the position that 
 was best for him, that he knew God did not send 
 him into the world to provide either for his body 
 or his soul, but to glorify His name and to bless 
 His creatures. He was most devoted to God 
 when he was most devoted to His work. He 
 prayed fervently because he lived fervently. He 
 found out the necessity of seeking God continual- 
 ly, of meditating upon His law, of blessing His 
 name, because he learnt how weak he was, and 
 how little he could be a king over men, when the 
 image of the divine kingdom was not present to 
 him. 
 
 25* 
 
294 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 This is the impression which is left upon onr 
 minds by the general context of his history after 
 his restoration. There are passages of that his- 
 tory, such as his giving up the sons of Saul to the 
 Gibeonites, which I do not understand. I can 
 perceive in the story a recognition of the contin- 
 uance of a nation's life, of its obligations and its 
 sins, from age to age. All national morality, nay, 
 the meaning and possibility of history, depends 
 upon this truth, the sense of which is, I fear, very 
 weak in our day. But I cannot in the least tell 
 why the death of Saul's children should have 
 been the needful expiation of the nation's crimes. 
 I do not, indeed, see any pretext for the supposi- 
 tion, of course a very ready and obvious one, that 
 it was an act of policy on David's part to rid him- 
 self of a dangerous family; there would be a 
 blackness in the putting forward of a religious 
 motive for such a crime, which all our knowledge 
 of his previous life forbids us to attribute to him. 
 On the other hand, I conceive that we are not 
 bound to assume that the proceeding was in all 
 particulars a just one, because we are told that a 
 divine intimation was the cause of it. . The Scrip- 
 ture is most careful that we should feel the real- 
 ity of these intimations, that we should refer them 
 to their true source, and yet that we should un- 
 derstand how possible it is for a man to pervert 
 them and found wrong inferences upon them, if 
 
THE BIBLE. 295 
 
 his own mind is not in a thoroughly pure and 
 healthy condition. 
 
 An instance which illustrates and proves that 
 principle occurs shortly after this one. God is 
 said to tempt David to number the people. The 
 thought that it was a blessing and a cause of 
 thankfulness to be the head of a growing and 
 thriving people, — this was divine. The thought 
 that it was well for a ruler to be acquainted with 
 the condition and resources of his people, — this 
 was divine. With the confidence that it was, 
 must have come an assurance, from the very exist- 
 ence of the Book of Numbers, that it was a right 
 thing in itself, a part of the divine ordinance, 
 that each tribe and its families, and the persons 
 who compose them, should be registered. But 
 the determination, just then, to send forth officers 
 for the sake of ascertaining the armed force of 
 the land, — this was the thought of a self-exalted 
 man, aspiring to be a military chief and conquer- 
 or ; a thought which was at work also in his peo- 
 ple, and which threatened to make their organ- 
 ization and his victories steps to their ruin. And 
 this tendency in king and people was checked by 
 a sweeping pestilence, which brought them back 
 to the feeling that their power did not lie in the 
 number of men capable of bearing arms; that, if 
 this were their reliance, they would soon be swal- 
 lowed up by empires immeasurably greater than 
 
296 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 themselves, the habits and false notions of which 
 they were adopting. I do not know anything so 
 instructive to us, if we use them as we ought, as 
 these passages in the Bible, which teach us that 
 all good thoughts, counsels, just works, come from 
 the Spirit of God, and, at the same time, that we 
 are in the most imminent peril, at every moment, 
 of turning the divine suggestions into sin, -by 
 allowing our selfish and impure conceits and rash 
 generalizations to mix with them. 
 
 We have seen that the life of David is the life 
 neither of a mere official, fulfilling a purpose in 
 which he has no interest, nor of a hero without 
 fear and without reproach ; but of a man inspired 
 by a divine purpose, under the guidance of a 
 divine teacher, liable to all ordinary errors, as 
 likely as any of us to fall into great sins. The 
 interest we feel in him is strong and personal. It 
 is not won from us by a single exaggeration of 
 his merits, by the least attempt to surround him 
 with some unnatural halo of glory. We should 
 have wished, perhaps, to see his sun setting with 
 peculiar splendor, to be told of some great acts, 
 or hear some noble words, which would assure us 
 that he died a saint. The Bible does not in the 
 least satisfy this expectation. It represents him 
 in the bodily feebleness, in something like the 
 dotage, of old age. The last sentences which are 
 reported of him concern the after administration 
 
THE BIBLE. 297 
 
 of his son's kingdom, and the punishment of 
 some of his mischievous subjects. Of all his 
 words, they are, perhaps, those which we the least 
 care to remember. We must turn elsewhere than 
 to the books of the Old or of the New Testament 
 for death-bed scenes. One beautiful record of the 
 first deacon of the Church, who prayed for his 
 countrymen, " Lord, lay not this sin to their 
 charge," is all that we have of martyrology in the 
 Bible. Its warriors fight the good fight. We 
 know that in some battle or other they finish their 
 course. Where, or how, under what circumstan- 
 ces of humiliation or triumph, we are not told. 
 If it pleased God that their lamp should shine 
 out brightly at the last, that was well, for he was 
 glorified in their strength. If it pleased him that 
 the light should sink and go out in its socket, 
 that was well too, for he was glorified in their 
 weakness. Not by momentary flashes does God 
 bid us judge of our fellow-creatures ; for He who 
 reads the heart, and sees the meaning and pur- 
 pose of it, judges not of them by these. And 
 never be it forgotten, that at the death which has 
 redeemed all other deaths and made them blessed, 
 there was darkness over all the land until the 
 ninth hour, and that a cry came out of the dark- 
 ness, " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken 
 me?" 
 
 If you would judge of David, of what he was, 
 
298 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 and what he looked for, let this Psalm be your 
 guide. " Give the king thy judgments, God ! 
 and thy righteousness unto the king's son. He 
 shall judge thy people with righteousness, and the 
 poor with judgment. He shall save the children 
 of the needy, and shall break in pieces the oppres- 
 sor. He shall redeem their souls from deceit and 
 violence, and precious shall their blood be in his 
 sight. There shall be an handful of corn in the 
 earth upon the top of the mountains ; the fruit 
 thereof shall shake like Lebanon ; and they of 
 the city shall flourish like grass of the earth. 
 His name shall endure for ever, his name shall be 
 continued as long as the sun, and men shall be 
 blessed in him. All nations shall call him bless- 
 ed. Blessed be the Lord God, the God of Israel, 
 who only doeth wondrous things, and blessed be 
 his glorious name for ever, and let the whole- 
 earth be filled with his glory. The prayers of 
 David, the son of Jesse, are ended." 
 
 And with that aspiration and hope, brethren, 
 may our prayers be ended. May it be the busi- 
 ness of our lives to testify, that there is a right- 
 eous kingdom established upon the earth, and 
 that God has set it up, and that his Son, who has 
 made himself one with all poor and suffering men, 
 is at the head of it ; and that it shall prevail over 
 all oppression and violence ; and that all nations 
 shall be blessed by it. Let us grapple this faith 
 
THE BIBLE. 299 
 
 to our inmost souls now, when men think, and 
 openly proclaim, that law and order are based 
 not on the will and mind of a gracious God, who 
 cares for his creatures, but are to be the tools and 
 servants of a grasping Mammon ; now, when we 
 have proofs openly before our eyes how that low, 
 grovelling, godless conviction leads at last to the 
 trampling down of all law, to the setting up of 
 the most hateful lawless tyranny. Let us not 
 merely detest such outrages upon God's order, 
 but scorn them as essentially weak, as predestined 
 to destruction, however for a time he may per- 
 mit them for the chastisement of the sins and 
 idolatries of other nations, nay, even if he should 
 see fit to use them for the chastisement of our 
 own. " Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for 
 him : fret not thyself because of him who pros- 
 pereth in his way, because of the man who bring- 
 eth wicked devices to pass. Cease from anger, 
 and forsake wrath ; fret not thyself in any wise 
 to do evil. For evil-doers shall be cut off; but 
 those that wait upon the Lord, they shall inherit 
 the earth. For yet a little while, and the wicked 
 shall not be : yea, thou shalt diligently consider 
 his place, and it shall not be. But the meek shall 
 inherit the earth ; and shall delight themselves in 
 the abundance of peace." 
 
300 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 Anna read me a translation of a German hymn 
 that pleased her, and afterwards we read togeth- 
 er some favorite extracts of -mine. 
 
 A HYMN.* 
 
 FKOM THE GERMAN. 
 
 On God, and not on my poor strength, 
 
 Will I my hopes repose, 
 And trust the Power who made me first, 
 And all my weakness knows. 
 He who the world 
 Guides on its way, 
 Will help me bear 
 My burdened day. 
 
 From all eternity He saw 
 
 How sore my needs would be, 
 His power could fix my term of life 
 My joys and burdens see. 
 What says my Lord ? 
 Is there a grief 
 Where love and faith 
 Bring no relief ? 
 
 God knows whate'er my heart desires 
 
 Before it is expressed, 
 And grants the boon, unuttered still, 
 
 If wisdom sees it best. 
 
 * Gellert. 
 
THE BIBLE. 301 
 
 Most fatherly- 
 He heeds his Son ; 
 Then, not my will, 
 But thine, be done ! 
 
 Is not unbroken happiness 
 Often more hard to bear, 
 Than what we call life's sorest ills, 
 Privation, grief, and care ? 
 Our greatest needs 
 All end with death ; 
 , Earth's honors fly 
 With our last breath. 
 
 The gifts which make us truly blest 
 
 To all alike are given, 
 While outward goods, health, fortune, wealth, 
 Make not the soul a heaven. 
 He who God's word 
 Keeps still in view, 
 With conscience pure, 
 Gilds trouble too. 
 
 What is life's brightest, glorious hour ? 
 
 Fading, when brightest burning ! 
 What are its sorest, bitterest griefs ? 
 How soon to blessings turning ! 
 Hope in the Lord, 
 His aid is nigh ; 
 Rejoice, ye saints, 
 He hears your cry. 
 26 
 
302 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM SERMONS OF F. W. ROBERTSON. 
 
 What is your religion ? Excitability, romance, 
 impression, fear ? Remember, excitement has 
 its uses, impression has its value. John, in all 
 circumstances of his appearance and style of 
 teaching, impressed by excitement. Excitement, 
 warmed feelings, make the first actings of relig- 
 ious life and the breaking of inveterate habits 
 easier. But excitement and impression are not 
 religion. Neither can you trust to the alarm 
 produced by the thought of eternal retribution. 
 Ye that have been impressed, beware how you 
 let those impressions die away. Die they will, 
 and must ; we cannot live in excitement for ever ; 
 but beware of their leaving behind them noth- 
 ing except a languid, jaded heart. If God ever 
 gave you the excitements of religion, breaking in 
 upon the monotony, as John's teaching broke in 
 upon that of Jerusalem, take care. There is no 
 restoring of elasticity to the spring that has been 
 over bent. Let impression pass on at once to 
 acting. 
 
 It is a perilous thing to separate feeling from 
 acting ; to have learnt to feel rightly, without 
 acting rightly. It is a danger to which, in a re- 
 fined and polished age, we are peculiarly exposed. 
 The romance, the poem, and the sermon teach 
 
THE BIBLE. 303 
 
 us how to feel. Our feelings are delicately cor- 
 rect. But the danger is this; — feeling is given 
 to lead to action ; if feeling be suffered to awake 
 without passing into duty, the character becomes 
 untrue. When the emergency for real action 
 comes, the feeling is, as usual, produced; but 
 accustomed as it is to rise in fictitious circum- 
 stances without action, neither will it lead on to 
 action in the real ones. " We pity wretchedness 
 and shun the wretched." We utter sentiments 
 just, honorable, refined, lofty, — but somehow, 
 when a truth presents itself in the shape of a 
 duty, we are unable to perform it. And so, such 
 characters become by degrees like the artificial 
 pleasure-grounds of bad taste, in which the water- 
 fall does not fall, and the grotto offers only the 
 refreshment of an imaginary shade, and the green 
 hill does not strike the skies, and the tree does not 
 grow ; their lives are a sugared crust of sweet- 
 ness trembling over black depths of hollowness ; 
 more truly still, " whited sepulchres," — fair 
 without to look upon, " within full of all un- 
 cleanness." 
 
 It is perilous, again, to separate thinking right- 
 ly from acting. He is already half false who 
 speculates on truth, and does not do it. Truth 
 is given, not to be contemplated, but to be done. 
 Life is an action, not a thought. And the pen- 
 alty paid by him who speculates on truth is that 
 
304 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 by degrees the very truth he holds becomes to 
 him a falsehood. 
 
 There is no truthfulness, therefore, except in 
 the witness borne to God by doing his will, — to 
 live the truths we hold, or else they will be no 
 truths at all. 
 
 Sweet are the tears that from a Howard's eye 
 
 Drop on the cheek of one he lifts from earth ; 
 
 And he who works me good with unmoved face, 
 
 Does it but half; he chills me, while he aids, 
 
 My benefactor, not my brother man. 
 
 But even this, this cold benevolence, 
 
 Seems worth, seems manhood, when there rise before me 
 
 The sluggard pity's vision-weaving tribe, 
 
 Who sigh for wretchedness yet shun the wretched, 
 
 Nursing in some delicious solitude 
 
 Their slothful loves and dainty sympathies. 
 
 S. T. Coleridge. 
 
 There is a strange inconsistency in the human 
 mind, which leads men to scrutinize with sever- 
 ity the secrets of their fellow-creatures , souls, 
 which it is impossible they should ever clearly 
 discover ; while they neglect to examine and 
 probe into the springs of their own conduct, 
 which if they do not, they certainly ought to 
 know. The first they are forbidden, and the sec- 
 ond they are commanded to do. — St. Francis 
 de Sales. 
 
THE BIBLE. 305 
 
 In one of the lower heavens Dante asks of 
 some spirits whom he meets, if they are happy 
 here, or do they desire a higher place, to see 
 more or to make more friends. " Among these 
 shades there was first a little smiling ; then one 
 replied so joyous that she seemed to burn with 
 the intensest fire of love, Brother, our will rests 
 on the virtue of love, that makes us wish for 
 only what we have, and is satisfied with nothing 
 else." 
 
 " All things," says Hooker, " (God only except- 
 ed,) besides the nature which they have in them- 
 selves, receive externally some perfection from 
 other things." Hence the appearance of separa- 
 tion or isolation in anything, and of self-depend- 
 ence, is an appearance of imperfection ; and all 
 appearances of connection and brotherhood are 
 pleasant and right, both as significative of perfec- 
 tion in the things united, and as typical of that 
 unity which we attribute to God, — that unity 
 which consists not in his own singleness or sep- 
 aration, but in the necessity of his inherence in 
 all things that be, without which no creature of 
 any kind could hold existence for a moment. 
 Which necessity of divine essence I think it bet- 
 ter to speak of as comprehensiveness, than as 
 unity, because unity is often understood in the 
 sense of oneness and singleness, instead of uni- 
 
 26* 
 
306 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 versality, whereas the only unity which by any 
 means can become grateful or an object of hope 
 to men, and whose types therefore in material 
 things can be beautiful, is that on which turned 
 the last words and prayer of Christ before his 
 crossing of the Kidron brook. " Neither pray I 
 for these alone, but for them also which shall be- 
 lieve on me through their word. That they all 
 may be one, as thou, Father, art in me, and I in 
 thee." 
 
 And so there is not any matter, nor any spirit, 
 nor any creature, but it is capable of a unity of 
 some kind with other creatures, and in that unity 
 is its perfection and theirs, and a pleasure also, 
 for the beholding of all other creatures that can 
 behold. So the unity of spirits is partly in their 
 sympathy, and partly in their giving and taking, 
 and always in their love ; and these are their de- 
 light and their strength, for their strength is in 
 their co-working and their fellowship, and their 
 delight is in the giving and receiving of alternate 
 and perpetual currents of good, their inseparable 
 dependency on each other's being, and their es- 
 sential and perfect depending on their Creator's ; 
 and so the unity of earthly creatures is their 
 power and their peace, not like the dead and cold 
 peace of undisturbed stones and solitary moun- 
 tains, but the living peace of trust, and the living 
 power of support, of hands that hold each other 
 
THE BIBLE. 307 
 
 and are still ; and so the unity of matter is, in 
 its noblest form, the organization of it which 
 builds it up into temples for the spirit, and in its 
 lower form, the sweet and strange affinity which 
 gives to it the glory of its orderly elements, and 
 the fair variety of change and assimilation that 
 turns the dust into the crystal, and separates the 
 waters that be above the firmament from the 
 waters that be beneath ; and in its lowest form, it 
 is the working and walking and clinging together, 
 that gives their power to the winds, and its sylla- 
 bles and soundings to the air, and their weight 
 to the waves, and their burning to the sunbeams, 
 and their stability to the mountains, and to every 
 creature whatsoever operation is for its glory and 
 for others' good. 
 
 There is the unity of different and separate 
 things, subjected to one and the same influence, 
 which may be called subjectional unity, and this 
 is the unity of clouds, as they are driven by the 
 parallel winds, or as they are ordered by the 
 electric currents, and this the unity of the sea and 
 waves, and this of the bending and undulation 
 of the forest masses, and in creatures capable of 
 will it is the unity of will or of inspiration. And 
 there is unity of origin, which we may call origi- 
 nal unity, which is of things arising from one 
 spring and source, and speaking always of this 
 their brotherhood, and this in matter is the unity 
 
308 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 of the branches of the trees, and of the petals and 
 starry rays of flowers, and of the beams of light, 
 and in spiritual creatures it is their filial relation 
 to Him from whom they have their being. And 
 there is unity of sequence, which is that of things 
 that form links in chains, and steps in ascent, 
 and stages in journeys, and this, in matter, is 
 the unity of communicable forces in their contin- 
 uance from one thing to another, and it is the 
 passing upwards and downwards of beneficent 
 effects among all things. And it is the melody 
 of sounds, and the beauty of continuous lines, 
 and the orderly succession of motions and times. 
 And in spiritual creatures it is their own con- 
 stant building up by true knowledge and con- 
 tinuous reasoning to higher perfection, and the 
 singleness and straightforwardness of their ten- 
 dencies to more complete communion with God. 
 And there is the unity of membership, which we 
 may call essential unity, which is the unity of 
 things separately imperfect into a perfect whole, 
 and this is the great unity of which other unities 
 are but parts and means ; it is in matter the har- 
 mony of sounds and consistency of bodies, and 
 among spiritual creatures, their love and happi- 
 ness and very life in God. — Ruskin. 
 
THE BIBLE. 309 
 
 THE OLD TESTAMENT.* 
 
 The Psalms (or, according to the Hebrew title, 
 the Book of Hymns) are a collection of songs, 
 some shorter, some longer, written by very differ- 
 ent authors, and at very different times, all ar- 
 ranged to be sung or recited with a musical 
 cadence. The titles of the several Psalms can 
 scarcely have anything to do with their authors, 
 but must have been added by others, since there 
 is sometimes an error observable in them. One 
 Psalm, the ninetieth, is ascribed to Moses, but 
 certainly erroneously. Seventy-two Psalms are 
 attributed to David, among which are some that 
 were written much later. David was a poet and 
 a musician, and after he became king, he set 
 apart, as we read in 1 Chronicles, chap, xxv., two 
 hundred and eighty-eight persons for singers 
 in the house of the Lord. They were placed 
 under three leaders, Asaph, Jeduthun, and He- 
 man. The king, Jehoshaphat, was also a lover 
 of temple music (2 Chronicles xx. 18-21). In 
 his time a part of the singers were called, from 
 their master, the sons, that is, the scholars, of Ko- 
 ran, to whom eleven Psalms are ascribed, while 
 to Asaph twelve Psalms are attributed. The 
 
 * From Die religiose Glaubenslekre, by Dr. K. G. Bretschneider. 
 
310 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 word Selah, which occurs fifty-one times, is not 
 a Hebrew word, but a musical sign for the use 
 of the singers, written with letters (S L H), by 
 which, it is supposed, a mark of repetition is de- 
 noted. The expression " a song of degrees," is 
 a Hebrew one, meaning either a song sung on 
 * the way up to the temple, or a hymn in a certain 
 rhythm. The Psalms, considered as poems, have 
 mostly a high poetic worth, and are especially 
 valued because they all have a religious charac- 
 ter, and all have reference to God both in nature 
 and human life. As they are mostly effusions of 
 earnest religious feelings, they are also fitted to 
 awaken these feelings in others. They have, 
 therefore, always been considered as consecrated 
 songs in the Christian world, and are still so 
 held, and deserve to be. For proof of this, read 
 Psalms i., ii., viii., xxii., xxiii., xxix., xlii., 
 xliii., xlv., 1., Ii., lxv., lxxxiv., xc, xci., civ., 
 cxviii., cxxi., cxxvi., cxxviii., cxxxix., cxlvi., and 
 others. But not everything expressed in the 
 Psalms is suitable to the spirit of Christianity. 
 Since they come down from a time of an incom- 
 plete revelation, it should not surprise us that 
 they express at times views, feelings, wishes, and 
 prayers in which the Christian cannot share, 
 where, for example, hatred towards the heathen 
 and enemies is required, such as Psalms ii. 9, 
 v. 10, vi. 10, ix. 15, xxxv. 1-8, xlvii. 3, 4, lix, 
 14 - 16, cxxxvii. 7-9, cxlix. 7-9, etc. 
 
THE BIBLE. 311 
 
 The Proverbs follow the Psalms, a collection of 
 wise sayings in short sentences which were col- 
 lected and pnt together by one of the Jewish 
 Rabbins. The compiler of their writings says 
 himself, chap. i. 1, that this is a collection of the 
 sayings of Solomon ; but as he repeats this su- 
 perscription, x. 1, xxv. 1, it is evident that he has 
 presented three collections of wise sayings, which 
 were ascribed to Solomon. He adds, in chap. 
 xxx.* and xxxi., the sayings of other wise men. 
 History testifies authentically that Solomon was 
 renowned for his wise sayings. It may be doubt- 
 ful whether he had anything to do with writing 
 down these proverbs himself, but it is not to 
 be doubted that others, from the admiration be- 
 stowed upon Solomon's wisdom, certainly began 
 early to collect the sayings attributed to him. 
 Thus can be explained the three collections of 
 proverbs of Solomon, which we here find united. 
 Whether ihey all came from the mouth of Solo- 
 mon, and exactly as we read them, cannot be 
 ascertained. It does not affect their value, that 
 Solomon in his later years gave himself up to the 
 worship of idols, for with regard to their worth 
 for us, we nlust decide from the contents of the 
 Proverbs, especially in their religious connection. 
 Their contents are in part moral teachings, in part 
 prudent admonitions. Although they contain 
 much that is noble, instructive, and true, they must 
 
312 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 still be read and used by the Christian with wis- 
 dom, that is, with constant reference to the more 
 complete moral teachings of Christ. For they 
 come to us from a time when the idea of the 
 divine law was but imperfectly developed, and the 
 knowledge of mankind and the world was lim- 
 ited. See chap. i. 26, ii. 21, 22, x. 27, xxxi. 6, 7. 
 In the order pursued in the Hebrew Bible, the 
 Book of Job follows. It is still uncertain in what 
 century this was written, or who was its author. 
 Job is here described as an Arab Emir. Since 
 the Arabs place the name of Job among their 
 holy men, there must be some true history in the 
 book ; for instance, Job, although he was pious 
 and guiltless, was attacked by a series of painful 
 misfortunes. The account of these given in the 
 first chapter was probably handed down by oral 
 tradition. But this historical point is a mere 
 secondary consideration, for the book is through- 
 out an instructive poem upon the question 
 whether it fares well in the world with the good 
 and the guiltless, or worse than with the bad ? 
 This question is treated in the conversations with 
 Job and his friends, which form the principal 
 part of the book. The three friends proceed 
 wholly upon the idea, frequent among the Jews 
 and constantly expressed in the Old Testament, 
 that misfortunes must necessarily be divine pun- 
 ishments, and they consider, therefore, that Job 
 
THE BIBLE. 313 
 
 deceives himself, or dissembles, when he holds 
 himself as guiltless, or that, at least, he must 
 have secret sins that God is visiting upon him. 
 Job, on the other hand, asserts firmly his com- 
 plete innocence, and the purity of his life. The 
 contest is brought to a close in an answer from 
 God, which declares that man is much too weak 
 to apprehend the wisdom and justice of God's 
 providence, but that, if he cannot comprehend 
 this wisdom, he must believe it, since it is so 
 manifestly proved in the world of nature and 
 man ; that Job has failed in this, since he has 
 charged God with injustice, and has not submit- 
 ted to his trials with resignation ; and that the 
 three friends (chap. xlii. 7) have not spoken 
 rightly towards God, and have made themselves 
 displeasing to him. Hence it appears, that the 
 author of this book himself shows that the words 
 he has placed in the mouth of the three friends 
 are erroneous, and therefore the Christian reader 
 must be careful not to seek for universal truths 
 in the words of the three friends, nor consider 
 them as divine teachings. 
 
 The Song of Songs, which is ascribed to Solo- 
 mon, follows the Book of Job. It is a little col- 
 lection of songs of high poetic beauty, but which, 
 as is betrayed by the idioms of a later time occur- 
 ring in it, cannot have been by Solomon. The 
 compiler of the Old Testament placed these songs 
 
 27 
 
314 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 in the third portion of the national writings, and 
 accepted them, though their contents lacked the 
 religious element, either because, as remains of 
 so highly honored a king as Solomon, they ought 
 not to perish, or because they represented, in a 
 pictorial sense, the love of Jehovah for the Jew- 
 ish people ; a representation which in the exam- 
 ple of the prophets was already prevalent. Since 
 the connection between God and Israel reached 
 its issue in Christianity, this connection itself, in 
 so far as it relates to the history of revelation, 
 is ended in the Old Testament. Therefore this 
 Song, since it wants the religious element, is not 
 available for Christian edification. The symbolic 
 conception, by which Christian readers would ex- 
 plain these love-songs as between Christ and the 
 Church, his bride, is far too artificial and unnat- 
 ural to be of any advantage to piety. 
 
 Ecclesiastes, or the Preacher, is not written by 
 Solomon, for its language is of a later idiom, 
 •which is first found in the time of the captivity, 
 and its contents betray an acquaintance with the 
 Greek philosophy, which the Jews first learnt to 
 know after the captivity, and which holds that 
 the wisest manner of living lies in a gay enjoy- 
 ment of the moment, and of the present, without 
 questioning the future or bemoaning the past. 
 The main points are : — All things are vain and 
 transitory, even the joys and the goods of life, as 
 
THE BIBLE. 315 
 
 well as care for the future, and all wisdom and 
 splendor. It is the same with the good as with 
 the bad, with the just as the unjust, with men as 
 with beasts, all will in the same way be swallowed 
 up by the grave. " Behold," says the preach- 
 er, " that which I have seen : it is good and 
 comely for one to eat and to drink, and to enjoy 
 the good of all his labor that he taketh under the 
 sun all the days of his life, which God giveth 
 him ; for it is his portion. Every man also to 
 whom God hath given riches and wealth, and 
 hath given him power to eat thereof, and to take 
 his portion, and to rejoice in his labor ; this is 
 the gift of God. For he shall not much remem- 
 ber the days of his life ; because God answereth 
 him in the joy of his heart." (Chap. v. 18- 
 20.) The whole book shows a heart utterly 
 wrong towards God and froward to his rule, un- 
 acquainted with the wisdom and justice of des- 
 tiny, and its complaints of the vanity of earthly 
 life rise from the want of the great idea of re- 
 ligion, from its ignorance of immortality. This 
 the writer shows plainly (chap. iii. 20- 22), and 
 the expression (chap. xii. 7), that the spirit shall 
 return, in death, to the God who gave it, sug- 
 gests no knowledge of immortality, but rather 
 supposes the return of that breath of life with 
 which God has animated the body into the es- 
 sence of God. This book, written at the close of 
 
V 
 
 316 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 the Old Testament revelation, is, therefore, a 
 sign of the great need of a revelation of the idea 
 of immortality, or the need there was in the hu- 
 man heart for Christianity. For this idea not 
 only solves the riddle of human life, but displays 
 to us rich treasures, which elevate the spirit as 
 well as make it happy. The Christian, therefore, 
 when he reads Ecclesiastes, must always remem- 
 ber how much happier he is as a Christian than 
 this wise man of olden time, for Christianity 
 has solved for him the riddle that so easily led 
 into sadness and error the spirit of wise men, 
 before the days of Christ. We can see that the 
 philosophy presented in Ecclesiastes was found 
 among the Jews of Alexandria after the captiv- 
 ity, from the book of the Wisdom of Solomon, 
 supposed even by them to' be apocryphal, where 
 (chap. ii. 1-9) the same opinions with regard to 
 earthly life are expressed, but are there combat- 
 ed. It appears plainly that the book of the Wis- 
 dom of Solomon was written to oppose that of 
 Ecclesiastes, which the Jews themselves hesitated 
 
 to read in their synagogues 
 
 The highest and the only religious point of 
 view in which the Old Testament can and should 
 be considered, is this ; that it contains the his- 
 tory of the divine revelation of religious ideas ; 
 that it shows when and through whom there en- 
 tered into the consciousness of mankind the first 
 
THE BIBLE. 317 
 
 ideas of religion, with regard to God, his relation 
 to the world, his laws, and a reverence for him ; 
 and through what means they were upheld and 
 cultivated, and how in the course of time they 
 were developed, as far down as the Christian era. 
 The principal thing that concerns us in the Old 
 Testament, therefore, is what belongs to the his- 
 tory of the rise and development of religious 
 ideas ; but much else which appears in the Old 
 Testament is of secondary importance, however 
 weighty it might appear to the Jewish nation. 
 All that is most important to the Christian, 
 which has served as foundation and introduction 
 to Christianity, we find in the Mosaic writings, 
 and in the Prophets, to which the Psalms, the 
 Book of Job, and the Proverbs may be added. 
 It is also the inner history of the gradual illumi- 
 nation of the spirit of man by God, which the 
 Christian must heed, as appertaining to revelation. 
 But the external history of men and nations, 
 of the people of Israel themselves, is to be con- 
 sidered as a part of the general history of the 
 world and of nations, and has no closer connec- 
 tion with religion or with revelation. It is an 
 historic relation which stands on the same line as 
 other historical narratives of the olden times, and 
 is to be estimated by the same measures. To this 
 belongs the history of remote antiquity, and the 
 first spread of mankind in Genesis, the history of 
 
 27* 
 
318 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 the departure of the Israelites from Egypt, their 
 conquest of Palestine, (the Book of Joshua,) and 
 the further outer development of the Israelitish 
 government (the Book of Judges, the Books of 
 Samuel, of the Kings, of the Chronicles, Ezra, Ne- 
 hemiah, and Esther). Although the history re- 
 lated in the Old Testament possesses a peculiar 
 character, because all the events that occur to the 
 nation, and all the political regulations and meas- 
 ures, are supposed to proceed from Jehovah, and 
 to follow his command, yet this part, as has al- 
 ready been expressed, is only a form of concep- 
 tion arising from the nature of a theocratic state 
 government, which can offer no religious dogmas 
 for Christians. 
 
 From what has been said of the necessary con- 
 nection of religious ideas with the existing knowl- 
 edge of the world, and the gradual progress of 
 the development of ideas, the religious element 
 in the Old Testament must be recognized as in- 
 complete and limited, from the very meagre state 
 of knowledge existing in the world. We, as 
 Christians, since we have the full light of revela- 
 tion, are not obliged to take into our minds these 
 limitations and deficiencies, but must consider 
 them as unavoidable, compelled by the state of 
 human culture at that early time, while we are 
 better informed by the Christian revelation. All 
 the religious elements of the Old Testament must 
 
THE BIBLE. 319 
 
 be compared with the Christian measure, — its 
 conceptions of God, of creation, of the govern- 
 ment of the world, the law of God and the king- 
 dom of God, and our durance after death. And 
 it must be always remembered, that the Old Tes- 
 tament contains only the foundation of true re- 
 ligion ; its outer walls and its inner temple were 
 finished by Christ. It was a mistake when men 
 looked upon the entirely external history of the 
 world, of Israel and other nations, related in the 
 Old Testament, as a revelation, and would fain 
 make the incomplete forms in which the elements 
 of religion present themselves articles of faith for 
 the Christian world. 
 
 On the other hand, it were wholly a false pro- 
 cedure, for the opponent of revelation to take 
 occasion, from these narratives of external history, 
 and from the yet deficient form of the religious 
 element, to inveigh against the Old Testament, 
 and make little account of it as a record of rev- 
 elation. This external history appears nowhere 
 in the Old Testament as a revelation, but through- 
 out as a human historical narrative ; and the still 
 incomplete form of the religious element was, as 
 we have seen, a necessity, which was unavoidable 
 in those remote ages, and which even bears witness 
 to the great age.and truth of this earliest illumi- 
 nation of the spirit of man. 
 
320 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 THE WAY, THE TRUTH, AND THE LIFE. 
 
 We complain, often, that there are so many ways 
 that we cannot find which is the right one. Every 
 hour brings up new duties which cannot all be 
 performed, but from which we must choose one, 
 and we do not know how to choose the right one. 
 Take the best maps that we will, they do not 
 show which is the true road ; and often we have 
 to wander back to find our starting-point, or sit 
 down bewildered and lost in the close wood that 
 shuts in all pathway. We study old writers, we 
 plunge into philosophy and into speculation, and 
 try to learn the way to God. We hear the whirl- 
 wind and the noise of the earthquake, but we 
 hear not his voice. The ways all seem uncertain, 
 the ways to Him, the way through life, the way, 
 even, through the little duties of the day. 
 
 We want the truth to guide us. But the truth 
 is hard to find. One teacher and another claim 
 to show it us, but in all they show there is some- 
 thing wanting. It is very fascinating to study 
 the theory of life, to speculate on its beginning, 
 or course, or end. Some minds naturally occupy 
 themselves with such subjects, and cannot rest 
 from them. They are every moment asking new 
 questions, and then discouraged when there comes 
 no answer. And we all want to know what is the 
 truth. We want to see clearly what is before us. 
 
THE BIBLE. 321 
 
 But the faithless heart does not find the truth ei- 
 ther in books or in friends, and the heart itself is 
 deceitful ; and at the same time that the way- 
 appears uncertain, the truth seems dimmed and 
 insecure, and we do not know where to find 
 either. 
 
 Amidst all these doubts the life fails. How 
 can we learn to live if we do not know the way 
 to live, and have not the truth to guide us ? We 
 ask in despair, What is life ? We begin to fear 
 it is only a dream: Some of us live wholly in 
 the other world. A mistaken conscientiousness, 
 a fancy that this is a religious life, leads many to 
 putting their thoughts so wholly in the future 
 world, that they neglect to live in this. It is true 
 the body holds them down and demands of them 
 little daily duties. But they go through these 
 with a sadness and a martyr-spirit, as if they felt 
 they were made for heaven, but some mistake 
 had set them here for a time. We cannot say 
 they live. For all the work they do here is that 
 of a machine which does not live. There are 
 such days of existence to all of us, when some 
 weight on our spirits has put us out of tune with 
 life here. Our duties no longer seem ours, they 
 are distasteful to us, we fancy ourselves made for 
 a higher sphere, and wish to take our hands from 
 the plough that is waiting in the unfurrowed 
 earth. There is no heartiness in our greetings, 
 
322 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 for these are not the friends we would like to 
 meet; there is no earnestness in our labor, be- 
 cause we believe it beneath us; there is no 
 warmth in our prayers, because we have grown 
 faithless towards God, who would not give us a 
 better world to live in, or better tools to use in 
 this world. 
 
 Some are living in another extreme, for this 
 world only. And this too is not living. The 
 time is given up to gain and business and pleas- 
 ure, which inthrall both body, and soul, but give 
 neither a chance to live. It is again a mechan- 
 ical round, not a life. It needs the inspiration 
 of something higher ; it needs the wakening of 
 some great purpose and aim ; it needs to be roused 
 by the thought of immortality, of the presence 
 of God, of the life of Christ. 
 
 For there is a way and a truth and a life for 
 those who will seek for them. We can come back 
 from our speculations and our dreamings to study 
 the life of Christ. We can learn what is the 
 way, because he knew how to tread it. It leads 
 us among the suffering ; it leads us away from 
 selfishness ; it leads us towards God. God is no 
 longer a vague and abstract being, not only the 
 upholder of the universe, but he is our Father, 
 to whom we may come with our daily cares. 
 The way to him is not far ; it is not long. We 
 have not to seek his temple in distant mountains, 
 
THE BIBLE. 323 
 
 nor to wait for heaven, but we may listen to his 
 voice within us. By following in this way, we 
 learn the truth. The words of Jesus are simple. 
 " Believe ye that the Father is in me, and I in 
 him." " Abide in me, and I in you. As the 
 branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide 
 in the vine ; no more can ye, except ye abide in 
 me." If we believe in the words of Jesus, their 
 truth shines before us. 
 
 It is he that teaches us to live. His life was 
 an example of true living. It was full of cour- 
 age and of faith. We are always faltering, al- 
 ways complaining, sometimes making much of 
 this life, as though it were all, sometimes despis- 
 ing it, as though it were a poor gift for God to 
 make. Jesus said, " He that loseth his life shall 
 save it " ; and yet he did not think lightly of life, 
 for he said, " Greater love has no man than this, 
 that he lay down his life for his friend." We 
 must begin with faith in him. A little faith, faith 
 like a grain of mustard-seed, is all he asks. With 
 this faith we must look upon his life, we must see 
 its self-sacrifice and be inspired by its teachings. 
 Other teachings come to us like dry proverbs, or 
 are the studied efforts of a silent, retired life, or 
 want the sanction of a holy life. Or else they 
 are uttered in doubt and uncertainty, they are 
 feeling for truth, but are not the truth itself. 
 They impress us just because they strike some 
 
324 THE SIXTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 sad, sympathetic chord in our own hearts, but 
 they do not give us strength. They all end with 
 the same unsatisfied questionings with which we 
 began them. 
 
 But the words of Christ are in harmony with 
 his life. They are a part of that life. There 
 was the same inspiration in his words that there 
 was in his deeds. He said, " My Father worketh 
 with me." They were always called out by the 
 need of the moment, so they could not be dry, 
 dull teachings. And they were uttered in per- 
 fect faith, there was no doubt or uncertainty in 
 them. They contained no promises but rest and 
 peace. " Take up the cross, and follow me." 
 " Leave all, and follow me." The object in life 
 for which he lived was "to do the will of the 
 Father." 
 
 There is much to be learned of the outer his- 
 tory of the Gospels, when and how they were 
 written. There is much to be read of the vari- 
 ous opinions concerning their writers, of the 
 effect that is produced in different minds by the 
 differences found in the various Gospels, — these 
 differences in some minds producing a conviction 
 of the accuracy of the record, in others startling 
 them away from this conviction. But it is 
 pleasant to turn away from these conflicting opin- 
 ions, to read the life of Christ by the lamp of our 
 own faith, — to turn away from discord and find 
 
THE BIBLE. 325 
 
 harmony. For we do find a harmony, the words 
 and the deeds both represent the high aim of his 
 life. The more we study them, the more com- 
 plete, the more precious do they become. They 
 have something for every sufferer, they bring con- 
 solation to every doubter. " Lord, to whom shall 
 we go ? Thou hast the words of eternal life ! " 
 
THE SEVENTH STOEMY SUNDAY. 
 
 PAIN 
 
 Since I am coming to that holy room 
 Where with the choir of saints for evermore 
 
 I shall be made thy music ; as I come, 
 I tune the instrument here at the door, 
 And what I must be then, think here before. 
 
 Donne. 
 
THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 PAIN. 
 
 To-day there has been storm without and storm 
 within. Without, a wild struggling of the ele- 
 ments ; within, the struggle of the soul and body. 
 A whole day of pain ! Sometimes giving strength 
 with the wonderful excitement it brought to the 
 nerves, sometimes weighing down body and soul 
 into the most depressing weakness. What is the 
 office of patience under incessant pain ? I must 
 submit. It is no time for me to summon the 
 grace of patience ; I must bear the burden. I 
 must bear it alone. It is easy for me now, since 
 there is no one for me to express my complaints 
 to, no one to hear my cry of agony if I utter it, 
 — no one but God, and already he knows my suf- 
 fering. 
 
 Must I submit in silence ? And can I bring 
 myself to say that this is good for me ? I re- 
 member I used to test my sufferance of pain by 
 asking myself whether there were any other per- 
 
 28* 
 
330 THE SEVENTH STOKMY SUNDAY. 
 
 son in the world to whom I would consent to give 
 it rather than bear it myself. And my consent- 
 ing to bear the pain myself I considered a test of 
 my endurance. Indeed, it is far easier to bear 
 such pain than to look upon it in another ; for, as 
 some one has said, the pain from which we see 
 another suffering appears to us infinite, because 
 we cannot measure it,*while we know the breadth 
 and length of our own suffering. 
 
 This pain I have been willing to bear myself, 
 and alone ; but, alas ! not without complaint. Af- 
 ter reading the strengthening words of others, 
 after recalling the courageous resolutions of qui- 
 eter hours, after words of, prayer for strength, I 
 have been driven back to the complaining excla- 
 mation, " 0, release me from this pain ! " 
 
 In pain one is swallowed up in the present, in 
 the same way as in extreme joy. In moments of 
 great happiness we are willing to forget all other 
 happiness ; the moments that lie behind are quite 
 lost in the present, and we scarcely allow our- 
 selves time to look forward. The beautiful scene 
 falls upon our soothed eyes, the gentle sounds 
 lull our delighted senses, a happy companionship 
 fills all the wants of sympathy, and the present 
 moment is sufficient and full of life. Sometimes 
 we say that this only is true life, that it is the 
 happiness that God has given to his children, and 
 that we were ungrateful if we brought into its 
 
PAIN. 331 
 
 enjoyment any memory of the past or any shad- 
 ow of the future. And they are moments that 
 are necessary for the life of the soul and the body. 
 Both of them are often cast down by privation, 
 by weakness ; and this earthly happiness is need- 
 ful for the refreshing of the body and the soul. 
 I can call it earthly happiness without meaning 
 to put upon it a low term. It is the happiness 
 that the flower draws out from the earth, and 
 which from its own life and joyfulness it changes 
 into color and perfume. It is the happiness that 
 the bee drinks from the flower, on which the bird 
 feeds in its fruit. It is the happiness that the 
 summer brings. In one summer day what rich- 
 ness of life is poured forth, seen and unseen ! 
 Whirring insects, flocks of birds, waving grass, 
 dashing streams, by the side of quiet lakes still 
 full -of life, broad green swards on which rest 
 peaceful flocks, and great seas in majestic motion. 
 And all such life seems full of joy, so that it can 
 hardly rest in its expression of joy. It is the 
 happiness of our earth which lends some of its 
 vapor to receive the tints of the sunset sky. We 
 were ungrateful if we too could not enter into 
 the joyfulness that the summer day brings forth. 
 And a day of pain stands in severe contrast. 
 It is a heavier contrast than the words summer 
 and winter bring to us. Winter, it is true, checks 
 all these sources of life, puts to sleep the insects, 
 
332 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 exiles the gay birds, stays the streams with its 
 icy hand, and chills the lake, and cuts 'down the 
 grass in the broad fields. But over all seeming 
 decay and destruction it spreads the snowy cov- 
 ering ; if it robs the trees, it leaves a graceful out- 
 line of trunk and branches against the sky, and 
 hangs around the stayed stream a silver tracery 
 as varied as summer foliage. But the pain that 
 comes -to us in the place of happiness has no such 
 snowy mantle of peace to distract us from its 
 presence. We must look it in the face ; it is there, 
 we cannot turn away from it. And so we find 
 ourselves far more taken up in the " present " of 
 pain, than we were even in that of joy. For it is 
 of very little help to recall that such a pain may 
 be of short duration. It is but little consolation 
 to say, " This pain is so violent, that in a few hours 
 I may be relieved." I say this is of little help, 
 and of little consolation, because under the in- 
 fluence of present suffering, in the weakened state 
 of the body, it is so hard to reach the higher faith 
 that can submit, that can look forward to a re- 
 lease. Such a faith the early Christians reached 
 when they could speak of their affliction as " light, 
 but for a moment," in comparison with the " eter- 
 nal weight of glory," looking as they did towards 
 the " things not seen." It has made me smile to 
 read such a suggestion as that I met with the 
 other day, that the belief in the approaching end 
 
pain. 333 
 
 of the world, held by the disciples, is " a diminu- 
 tion of their credit for disinterestedness and self- 
 sacrifice." As if this "belief" were an easy 
 thing to enter upon, — as though it required no 
 disinterestedness and self-sacrifice ! 
 
 It is difficult to endure merely a violent tooth- 
 ache for an hour, even if one could hope for an 
 entire release from it at the end of that hour. 
 It must require some self-sacrifice to enter upon 
 a voluntary physical suffering, even if repose and 
 reward lay visibly within reach. Far more dif- 
 ficult must such sacrifice be, accompanied with 
 contumely from others, self-distrust, and that 
 human weakness that surely only a high faith can 
 subdue. In our calm, painless moments we can 
 easily say we should be able to bear what " the 
 saints " endured, if we had their faith ! An hour's 
 physical suffering, half a night's suspicion of our 
 best friend, a few moments' distrust of ourselves 
 and of our cause, might show us how hard a 
 thing it is to reach such a faith. 
 
 It cannot be reached by the momentary effort 
 at resignation that we strive after in the midst of 
 suffering. It cannot be reached by the mere 
 painting of imagination, which may try to pic- 
 ture the crown of reward and a future repose. 
 Imagination may sometimes be of assistance in 
 relieving the thoughts in what would be dreary 
 hours of endurance. But more often it lends a 
 
334 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 deeper agony to the throb of the excited nerves ; 
 it can seldom carry us away even from mere phys- 
 ical suffering. If the " things unseen " became so 
 present to the Apostles that they could forget their 
 " light momentary affliction/' it was no sudden 
 flash that opened to them a future joy, or a new 
 elevation, that lifted them from their present suf- 
 fering ; it was their religious faith which they had 
 worked out for themselves, the same faith that 
 acknowledged the presence of God in their hours 
 of satisfaction, and recognized him now in their 
 hour of affliction. 
 
 For these hours of extreme joy and pain do 
 not make up our life. We seldom pass through 
 days of desert emptiness, nor can linger long in 
 a paradise of delight. Joys and pains alternate 
 with each other. The sum of our life is a series 
 of " little things," a succession of little duties, 
 the necessity of constant little decisions. Over 
 these hangs sometimes the arch of sunlight, some- 
 times they are canopied with clouds. One day 
 suffices to present all these changes. We cannot 
 pass our life in a constant joyousness, for suffer- 
 ing in the shapes of pain and sorrow looks us in 
 the face. And we cannot turn away from the re- 
 fining power of its discipline. But the buoyancy 
 of gratitude that has given the zest to our days 
 of joyousness can help us to bear the heavy weight 
 upon our spirits, when body and soul are both suf- 
 
pain. 335 
 
 fering, when no outward happiness avails to turn 
 our eyes from our inward struggle. 
 
 There is then one help that stands by us in all 
 the changes of our life ; it is the true religious 
 faith, the faith that sees God in all things. This 
 praises him in the hours of exaltation and of joy, 
 and submits in the hours of privation. It makes 
 a seemingly monotonous passage of time glorious 
 with the presence of Him to whom one day is as 
 a thousand years, and a thousand years as one 
 day. It brings a consistency to a life that at 
 times seems too much agitated with its changes 
 from joy to pain. There is one God that rules 
 over both. It gave to Peter the power to say : 
 " Beloved, think it not strange, concerning the 
 fiery trial which is to try you, as though some 
 strange thing happened unto you ; but rejoice, in- 
 asmuch as ye are partakers of Christ's sufferings ; 
 that, when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be 
 glad with exceeding joy." And James could 
 say : " Be patient, therefore, brethren, unto the 
 coming of the Lord. Behold, the husbandman 
 waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and 
 hath long patience for it, until he receive the ear- 
 ly and latter rain. Be ye also patient ; stablish 
 your hearts ; for the coming of the Lord draweth 
 nigh. Behold, we count them happy which en- 
 dure ! " 
 
 And Paul said : " Where the spirit of the 
 
336 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 Lord is, there is liberty ; but we all, with open 
 face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, 
 are changed into the same image from glory to 
 glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord. There- 
 fore, seeing we have this ministry, as we have 
 received mercy, we faint not. 
 
 " For we preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus 
 the Lord ; and ourselves your servants for Jesus' 
 sake. For God, who commanded the light to 
 shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, 
 to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of 
 God in the face of Jesus Christ. 
 
 " But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, 
 that the excellency of the power may be of God, 
 and not of us. 
 
 " We are troubled on every side, yet not dis- 
 tressed ; we are perplexed, but not in despair ; 
 persecuted, but not forsaken ; cast down, but not 
 destroyed ; always bearing about in the body, the 
 dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of 
 Jesus might be made manifest in our body. 
 
 " For which cause we faint not ; but though our 
 outward man perish, yet the inward man is re- 
 newed day by day." 
 
pain. 337 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 FROM THOMAS A KEMPIS. 
 
 Lord, thou knowest what is best for us ; let 
 this or that be done, as thou pleasest. Give what 
 thou wilt, and how much thou wilt, and when 
 thou wilt. Deal with me as-4hou thinkest good, 
 and as best pleaseth thee, and is most for thy 
 honor. Set me where thou wilt, and deal with 
 me in all things just as thou wilt. I am in thy 
 hand ; turn me round and turn me back again, 
 which way soever thou pleasest. 
 
 Behold, I am thy servant, prepared for all 
 things ; for I desire not to live unto myself, but 
 unto thee ; and that I could do it worthily and 
 perfectly ! 
 
 Grant to me thy grace, that it may be with me, 
 and labor with me, and persevere with me even 
 to the end. Grant that I may always desire and 
 will that which is to thee most acceptable and 
 most dear. Let my will be thine, and let my will 
 ever follow thine, and agree perfectly with it. 
 Grant to me above all things that can be desired, 
 to rest in thee, and in thee to have my heart at 
 peace. Thou art the true peace of the heart, thou 
 its only, rest ; out of thee all things are hard and 
 unquiet. In this very peace, that is, in thee, the 
 one chiefest, eternal Good, I will, sleep and rest. 
 Amen. 
 
 29 
 
338 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 OF PAIN AND TROUBLE. 
 
 BY LEIGH HUNT. 
 
 The pain that affects ourselves only, and not 
 the comfort or interests of the many, let us learn 
 to keep in subjection, in order that it may not 
 subject us. Let us lord it, as much as we can, 
 over physical evil, that we may bend circum- 
 stances to our will. Let us be respectful wrest- 
 lers also with intellectual suffering, that we may 
 win it to do our bidding. As men, let us be 
 manly ; as women, womanly ; thorough helpers ; 
 forgiving friends ; not querulous with evil, both 
 for the sake of others and ourselves ; but never- 
 theless doing all we can to master it for the 
 same reason ; counting pain at what it is worth 
 only ; forcing what would be more evil, to be- 
 come a part of good ; and opposing, to what we 
 cannot subdue in its effects on others, a resolu- 
 tion that will at least hinder ourselves from be- 
 ing conquered. Let impatience be quickly over. 
 If we cannot master it by ourselves, let us take 
 it with us to God, and under the sense of his 
 all-embracement it will not abide. 
 
PAIN. 
 OF TEARS AND LAT 
 
 BY LEIGH HUNT. 
 
 We must not call earth a vale of tears. It is 
 neither pious to do so, nor in any respect proper. 
 We might as well, nay, with far greater propri- 
 ety, call it a field of laughter. For as there is 
 more good than evil in the world, more action 
 than passion, more health than disease, more life 
 than death (life being a thing of years, but death 
 of moments), so there is more comfort than dis- 
 comfort, more pleasure than pain, and therefore 
 more laughter than tears. But as it would be a 
 disrespect to sorrow to call earth a field of laugh- 
 ter, so it is a sullenness to joy, and an ingratitude 
 to the goodness of God, to call it a vale of tears. 
 
 God made both tears and laughter, and both 
 for kind purposes. For as laughter enables mirth 
 and surprise to breathe freely, so tears -enable sor- 
 row to vent itself patiently. Tears hinder sorrow 
 from becoming despair and madness ; and laugh- 
 ter is one of the very privileges of reason, being 
 confined to the human species. 
 
 It becomes us, therefore, to receive both the 
 gifts thankfully, and to hold ourselves, on fitting 
 occasions, superior to neither. To be incapable 
 of tears would be to lose some of the sweetest 
 emotions of humanity ; and the proud or sullen 
 fool who should never laugh, would but reduce 
 himself below it. 
 
340 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 FROM "THE SAYINGS OF RABIA." 
 
 BY K. M. MILNES. 
 
 Round holy Rabia's suffering bed 
 
 The wise men gathered, gazing gravely. • 
 "Daughter of God ! " the youngest said, 
 
 " Endure thy Father's chastening bravely ; 
 They who have steeped their souls in prayer 
 Can every anguish calmly bear." 
 
 She answered not, and turned aside, 
 Though not reproachfully nor sadly. 
 
 " Daughter of God ! " the eldest cried, 
 " Sustain thy Father's chastening gladly ; 
 
 They who have learnt to pray aright, 
 
 From pain's dark well draw up delight." 
 
 Then she spoke out : " Your words are fair ; 
 
 But oh ! the truth lies deeper still ; 
 I know not, when absorbed in prayer, 
 
 Pleasure or pain, or good or ill ; 
 They who God's face can understand 
 Feel not the motions of his hand." 
 
PAIN. 341 
 
 " We have this treasure in earthen vessels." — 2 Corinthians iv. 7. 
 
 I am going to try to set in order some thoughts 
 on the religious value of sickness. I suppose 
 there is apt to be some vagueness of notion about 
 it. This is a pity. For sickness certainly af- 
 fords at times decided advantages in our relig- 
 ious growth. It is, I think, as often — because 
 not rightly used — a decided drawback to that 
 growth. It is a pity, then, not to watch it closely 
 enough to know when it promises one of these 
 results and when the other. I should say that, 
 in general, people look with a sense of mystery 
 upon it ; almost as they did in old pagan times, 
 as if it had certain magic power upon the soul. 
 Have you never observed, that when people are 
 subdued, and do not wish to talk of worldly 
 "things, they fall to talking of the illness in the 
 community around them, with an air of seeming 
 sanctity ? And I am afraid it is still true, that 
 a great many people, who are very practical in 
 lesser affairs, are so unpractical about their soul's 
 training as to put it off till sickness shall give 
 occasion for it ; — as if sickness made a sort of 
 long Sabbath, which nature had provided for 
 such an emergency. 
 
 Of course, in fact, sickness is one of God's an- 
 gels. Its real heavenly lesson may be learned, 
 always, by those who have ears and can hear. 
 
 29 # 
 
342 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 It will not be learned, however, in any such su- 
 perstitious estimate as I have hinted at ; and it 
 will be but a broken stay, if we have not well 
 trained ourselves to make use of it when it come. 
 That training, like most training, requires times 
 of health, and therefore I call your attention to it 
 here and now, while we are together well. 
 
 Of the real solemnity which sickness has, apart 
 from this half-superstitious notion, I will only 
 say one thing, by way of introduction. It is quite 
 enough to give the fitting gravity to our medita- 
 tions. It is this, — that almost all the seriousness 
 with which we are used to invest the idea of death 
 itself belongs, not to the event called death, but 
 to the sick-bed which precedes death. The real 
 seriousness of death is simply that it is an instan- 
 taneous passage from life to life, from man to 
 God. All the notions beside this, which we hang 
 about it, of pain, or of struggle, as our pictures of 
 ghastly faces, of hollow cheeks, and of skeleton 
 forms, are notions or pictures which belong to 
 sickness, not death ; and we do but borrow them 
 from sickness to dress up with them our idea of 
 what follows. " The pain of death is but in con- 
 templation " before death comes ; and it is the 
 witness of long struggling sick-beds, which makes 
 it as dreadful as it is supposed to be to the great 
 company of men. 
 
 It is not, then, too much to say, that the thought 
 
pain. 343 
 
 which we give to the angel of Sickness, and the 
 eager forecast with which we look forward to his 
 ministrations, should be and might be even more 
 serious, more solemn, and more patient than those 
 which look to the angel of Death, when he acts 
 suddenly, without the intervention of sickness. 
 Because of sickness we know and see so much, 
 while of death itself we see in fact so very little. 
 A passage from world to world ! All that we 
 can say of it is, that, in itself, it must be momen- 
 tary. Most likely the soul starts surprised when 
 it is over, — surprised ever to find that it is be- 
 gun. While of sickness, each instance teaches us 
 more; and leaves us, if we will, better able to 
 meet another. 
 
 This relation of sickness to the instant of pas- 
 sage which we call death, shall be, in the first 
 place, the guide of our meditations. 
 
 I. In a celebrated sermon on sickness which 
 Mr. Buckminster preached after his recovery from 
 one of those severe attacks which at last closed 
 his earthly career, he enumerates seven benefits 
 of sickness : — 
 
 1. It calls attention directly to God. 
 
 2. It reminds us of the uncertainty of human 
 pursuits, and 
 
 3. Of their vanity. 
 
 Again, it shows our dependence on each other ; 
 it softens our own hearts towards others' suf- 
 
344 THE. SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 ferings ; it teaches us also the value of our 
 health. 
 
 Lastly, and chief of all, it shows us " how idle, 
 how fatal the notion, that hours of weakness or 
 of suffering will be hours favorable to quiet re- 
 flection and pious thoughts, how vain his scheme 
 of life who has relied upon them entirely." 
 
 These lessons are addressed not only to the suf- 
 ferer, but to those around him as well, — his 
 friends, his physician, his nurses, his neighbors. 
 Now, will you observe that each of these invalu- 
 able and eternal lessons is complete and effective, 
 without any allusion to death as the probable 
 consequence of illness ? It is not dangerous ill- 
 ness only which teaches them. Long, wearing 
 confinement of whatever kind instils them. They 
 are not borrowed from the treasure of death's 
 admonitions ; but have a value and origin all 
 their own. So true is it that sickness, of itself, 
 has many a lesson, which death itself cannot teach 
 to Us. 
 
 Practically, you may make the same observa- 
 tion thus, — in seeing, that, of all the persons who 
 would meet the instant of death bravely, not one 
 in a hundred probably would bear as bravely the 
 sentence of a year's languishing. For instance, 
 most of us, I think, would receive firmly, with- 
 out much outcry or expression of grief, the an- 
 nouncement that in the next instant to this he 
 
pain. 845 
 
 must die. An instant's resignation to God's will 
 is not so difficult but we might yield it. But to 
 resign one's self every instant for months or 
 years is another thing; and the training which 
 has fitted one to meet death does not, of course, 
 prepare us to meet this harder trial. 
 
 And thus we are led to our first practical les- 
 son for use in sickness ; namely, that we avoid, 
 in counselling our sick friends, or in arranging 
 our own thoughts on the sick-bed, the habit of 
 looking mostly at death, as if that were the one 
 business for which God had placed us there. 
 We have two different things to learn, — how to 
 meet death, and how to bear sickness. Of these 
 the latter is vastly the harder. And yet it is at 
 each, the instant, the certain duty, and that which 
 is at once essential. The Christian sufferer then 
 leaves till to-morrow to-morrow's care ; and turns 
 to-day's prayer, to-day's resolution, not to to- 
 morrow's possible result, but to to-day's essential 
 duty. How best shall I discharge the duty of 
 this sick-bed ? How best ease the trouble and 
 anxiety of these friends ? How best keep my 
 mind at peace, and this angry temper soothed ? 
 How best, God ! keep my spirit of devotion 
 ordered, and my soul near to thee ? Harder 
 questions these to meet than that vague one, 
 " Am I ready to die ? " to which mistaken 
 physicians to the soul beg him to turn his atten- 
 
346 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 tion, — harder, and yet vastly more essential to 
 be answered. 
 
 For God so orders life that my right discharge 
 of to-day's duty always implies a preparation 
 for to-morrow's. Have I learned to-day's lesson 
 thoroughly, to-morrow's follows very simply, be 
 it a lesson in arithmetic or a lesson in life. And 
 therefore, though bold readiness to die by no 
 means implies fitness to bear long sickness, the 
 counter proposition is true. Steady duty in long 
 sickness does imply, does bring about of itself, a 
 perfect fitness to die. Is your body purified by 
 this patient subjugation to which you have brought 
 your appetites ? Is your mind disciplined, are 
 your anger and quick temper tamed, by patient 
 submission here in your sick-room ? Is your at- 
 tention turned off earthly pursuits as you have lain 
 here, with so little to remind you in your cham- 
 ber's monotony of the world's changes ? Why, 
 then body, mind, passions, and eager appetites 
 are all trained, and in readiness for you to pass 
 on. And when the Angel Death whispers to say, 
 " Are you ready ? " you look round to array 
 yourself, and find you are arrayed ; to throw off 
 your encumbrances, and behold they are gone ; 
 to take your staff, and see the discipline of sick- 
 ness has fitted it to your hand. You smile, sur- 
 prised, and say, " Lead on ! " He smiles, with 
 the smile which has seen that glad amazement of 
 
pain. 347 
 
 humility so often before; and we who wait be- 
 side know only that the change is a blessed one ; 
 and we are left for a few years to wonder how it 
 came. This only we know, that because, each 
 day, you were prepared for a day of sickness, 
 when the last moment came, you were prepared 
 for death. 
 
 And this reflection then shall guide us, when, 
 as comforters or counsellors or friends, we go to 
 stand by other beds of sickness. Not that any 
 one of us will be afraid to think or speak of 
 Death ! God forbid ! For God sends him, as 
 one of our dearest friends. Not because we fear 
 death, but because we fear to fail in to-day's 
 duty, will we turn distinctly to the duty next 
 our hand in the sick-room. What can we say, 
 what do, that this sufferer may meet to-day more 
 patiently, more bravely ? For that is his duty. 
 So to help him in that, is ours. Most like we 
 do not help him by discussing death with him. 
 Most like he knows more of that than we. Let 
 us help him to patience under pain ; let us cheer 
 him in discomfort or disappointment ; let us 
 bring him to God, and God to him, by joining in 
 his prayer, or by helping him with ours ; and 
 then, if we have been really living, we have done 
 our blessed duty for that day, and helped him in 
 his as well. If we have wisely remembered his 
 weakness, if we have cut short our words and 
 
348 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 our presence, so as not to weary him, (the most 
 essential duty of such a friend,) then we have a 
 right to trust that we have brought some help 
 there, such as we may hope to receive in our 
 turn ! 
 
 II. I pass now to the systematic treatment .ne- 
 cessary that we may bear sickness well and se- 
 cure its lessons. We remember, of course, what 
 I quoted just now from Buckminster, " that the 
 hours of torturing pain and languishing confine- 
 ment are not the hours most favorable to quiet 
 reflection and pious thoughts." While we re- 
 member this, however, we must acknowledge that 
 God never brings upOn us a trial which we have 
 not strength to bear, and that every trial has 
 somewhere its compensations and helps, teaching 
 us or suggesting to us how to bear it. So, I 
 should say that the one special service which 
 sickness renders in regard of religion is that it 
 gradually and certainly weans us from external 
 occupations. It compels us to find occupation 
 within ourselves. If you cannot walk in your 
 garden, it is harder for you, while imprisoned on 
 your bed, to occupy your heart and thought there, 
 although it is not impossible. If you cannot go 
 to your counting-room, it is not of course that 
 your mind will be engrossed there, and when you 
 do go there, that is of course. We must in sick- 
 ness find occupation in ourselves. Well, this may 
 
. pain. 849 
 
 be a gain or not, as we choose to make it. For 
 there is no certainty that this occupation will be 
 religious occupation, or that it shall tend to make 
 us religious. But this is certain, — that the ab- 
 stinence from your accustomed interests suggests 
 to you this question : " What other interests can 
 I brood over in these silent hours ? " If, as you 
 lie, windows curtained, temples throbbing, mind 
 quivering, — if the interest, which last week was 
 so fascinating, of a mercantile adventure or a de- 
 liriously balanced romance or poem, become dis- 
 gusting to you, so that your tired fancy pushes it 
 out of the way, — this question must come instead : 
 " What interest is less transitory than these ? " 
 " These were everything ; now they are noth- 
 ing. What interest, what thought, would abide 
 with me and remain, though my mind do quiver, 
 though my temples do throb, in "this darkened 
 chamber ? " Sickness helps you so far as to sug- 
 gest that question. God grant you find what 
 sickness does not of itself give, the right 1 answer ! 
 God grant you, that in well life you prepare for 
 that question ! God grant that so your subdued 
 spirit whisper, " These three abide and shall eter- 
 nal be, — faith, hope, and love ! " That so, as 
 you lie there, not asleep, yet not speaking or spo- 
 ken to, the hours may fly by, rather than crawl 
 along, as your grateful heart feeds itself with 
 these eternal interests. As your faith in a pres- 
 
 30 
 
350 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 ent God, who shares with you that darkened 
 room, becomes more faithful, as your hope for a 
 higher life becomes more tangible and clear, 
 and as your love of these dear friends — of that 
 Saviour who is best friend of all, and of the God 
 who is just now next your heart of any — grows 
 fresher and more childlike till it is your all ; so. 
 is it that sickness may bless you in withdrawing 
 you from care, by bringing you so near to God, 
 and him to you ! 
 
 A blessing, I have hinted, for which some prep- 
 aration of well days is needed. Make that prep- 
 aration like a man studying facts, and not from 
 fancy or notion. Pain does weaken you. A fe- 
 ver does cut down your strength. Sickness does 
 tame your proud spirit. Do not, when you are 
 well, imagine that when you are ill you are 
 going to stand out against any such changer, of 
 your own strength. Do not talk of training 
 yourself to insensibility to pain. Do not rely on 
 any chivalrous, pride-born resolution. The loss 
 of a few ounces of blood will cut down all such 
 resolutions, as surely as a wound in its roots 
 makes a tree's leaves wither. You need better 
 rest than that. That is a mere struggle of your 
 will, and a struggle ending in failure. You want 
 to have sickness even work good for you. That 
 is the aim. To most men it seems an evil. You 
 want to make it work good. There is only one 
 
PAIN. 351 
 
 way in which it can be made to work good. 
 But this way you may rely upon. 
 
 For this practical fact, announced by the high- 
 est faith, proves true on the closest detailed ob- 
 servation, namely, that all things work together 
 for good to them that love God. Your panacea 
 to be gained in health, is this abiding love of the 
 Father in whose image you are made. Love 
 him, as you love your nearest friend. Love 
 him, as he loves you ; that he may not call you 
 a servant longer, but call you a friend ; letting 
 you see what he does, letting you enter into his 
 system. Then, though you suffer, you suffer 
 willingly. You grow faint, knowing that he 
 holds your swooning head. You wait through 
 sleepless nights, confident still in him that sleep- 
 less nights are fraught somehow with blessings 
 to the world ; your sleepless night is, though you 
 are such a little child, as truly as the sleepless 
 night of Paul shipwrecked, — nay, as the sleep- 
 less night on which the dew fell in Gethsemane. 
 If only you love God, you feel how gently he 
 deals with you ; that it is those whom he loves 
 whom he chooses for his chastisements. So fades 
 away the mean suspicion of false theologies, that 
 your strength fails because you have incurred 
 his wrath ; and that the chamber of sickness is 
 to be doubly saddened, as being the torture-room 
 where a Father is dealing his vengeance upon his 
 child ! 
 
352 THE SEVENTH STOEMY SUNDAY. 
 
 Is it another's sick-room which you enter, or 
 is it your Own where you lie bound, take thus 
 the Holy Spirit, the One Comforter, to be with 
 you. First, remember that you have there a 
 graver lesson even than the lesson of death to trace 
 along. Secondly, then the sick-room does offer 
 for the true lesson its share of advantages, in its 
 seclusion, if you will use them. But chiefly and 
 behind all, remember that this is God's angel of 
 mercy, and not of anger, whom you would ques- 
 tion. With that memory may the Comforter in- 
 spire us ! With the , memory indeed of one who 
 was made perfect through his own suffering, — 
 was acquainted with grief, and so indeed our 
 Saviour ; who brought blessing to so many sick ; 
 who so often entered the sick-room and knew its 
 life so well, — knew so well, too, the tears, the 
 hopes, of so many sorrowful hearts. So shall 
 come the life which .abides, even when the nerves 
 quiver ; so come the faith which is cool, even 
 though the blood boils. So shall each day of 
 sickness be sufficient for each day's duties. No 
 day shall look nervously forward to anticipate the 
 lesson of the last day. If such sickness ends 
 with recovery, you find that such imprisonment 
 has trained you for your freedom. Or, does it 
 end with death ? Well, when your last day 
 comes, behold ! its duty will have been already 
 accomplished, in hours which did not think that 
 
pain. 353 
 
 they were attempting it. And, at the threshold 
 of eternity, you find that you are ready, — that 
 there is no parting lesson to be learned. 
 
 M I will lead them through paths they have not known." 
 
 How few who from their youthful day 
 Look on to what their life shall be, 
 
 Painting the visions of the way 
 In colors soft and bright and free ! 
 
 How few who to such scenes have brought 
 
 The dreams and hopes of early thought ! 
 
 For God through ways they have not known 
 Will lead his own. 
 
 The eager hearts, the souls of fire, 
 That pant to toil for God and man, 
 
 And mark with eyes of keen desire 
 The upland way of toil and pain, — 
 
 Almost with scorn they think of rest, 
 
 Of holy calm, of tranquil breast. 
 
 But God through ways they have not known 
 Will lead his own. 
 
 A lowlier task on them is laid, 
 
 With love to make their labor light; 
 
 And there their glory must be shed 
 On quiet home, and lost to sight ; 
 
 30* 
 
354 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 Changed are their visions bright and fair, 
 But calm and still they labor there ; 
 For God through ways they have not known 
 Will lead his own. 
 
 The gentle breast that thinks with pain 
 It scarce can lowliest tasks fulfil, 
 
 And, would it dare its life to scan, 
 
 Would ask but pathway low and still, — 
 
 Often such lowly heart is brought 
 
 To act with power beyond its thought ; 
 
 For God in ways they have not known 
 Will lead his own. 
 
 And they, the bright, who long to prove 
 
 In joyous way, in cloudless lot, 
 How fresh from each their grateful love 
 Can spring without a stain or blot, — 
 Such youthful heart is often given 
 The path of grief to tread to heaven ; 
 •For God in ways they have not known 
 Will lead his own. 
 
 What matter what the path may be ? 
 
 The end is clear and bright to view ; 
 We know that we a strength shall see, 
 
 Whate'er the day may bring to do. 
 We see the end, the house of God, 
 But not the path to that abode ; 
 For God in ways they have not known 
 
 Will lead his own. 
 
pain. 355 
 
 In Cicero and Plato, and other such writers, I 
 meet with many things acutely said, and things 
 that excite a certain warmth of emotion, but in 
 none of them do I find these words : " Come unto 
 me, all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I 
 will give you rest." — St. Augustine. 
 
 Worldly hopes are not living, but lying hopes ; 
 they die often before us, and we live to bury 
 them, and see our own folly and infelicity in 
 trusting to them ; but at the utmost, they die 
 with us when we die, and can accompany us no 
 farther. But the lively hope, which is the Chris- 
 tian's portion, answers expectation to the full, 
 and much beyond it, and deceives no way but in 
 that happy way of far exceeding it. 
 
 A living hope, living in death itself! The 
 world dares say no more for its device, than 
 Dum spiro r spero ; but the children of God can 
 add, by virtue of this living hope, Dum ex spiro 
 spero. — Archbishop Leighton, from " Aids to 
 Reflection" 
 
356 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 A part of the day I was able to spend in read- 
 ing another sermon of Tholuck's, in the German, 
 — a sermon preached at the beginning of a new 
 year. 
 
 SERMON. 
 
 BY A. THOLUCK. 
 
 We stand at the beginning of a new division 
 of life. Would that we did not need such epochs ! 
 Happy is the youth, happy the man, to whom such 
 periods are not necessary to recall him to himself, 
 who, while the stream of his life rushes by, 
 stands upon the shore, and, with thoughtful med- 
 itation, keeps his glance fixed upon the flowing 
 wave. But it is not so with us ; the waves come, 
 the waves go, and often we know not of them. 
 Therefore must every one make fresh starting- 
 points in his life, even in his inner life. In what 
 spot of your heart do you trace the beginning of 
 this new period of your existence ? Do you glow 
 with holy zeal, like the combatant, who sees be- 
 fore him the course he is to run through, — like 
 the warrior at the moment the battle is to begin ? 
 I can easily see this is the case with many of you. 
 At least it is the case with reference to the plant- 
 ing of that fruit which the world will some time 
 demand of you. And even this is to be praised, 
 for in many cases the fruit which the world de- 
 
pain. 357 
 
 mands is no other than that which God will 
 some time ask of you. But, beloved, there are 
 also fruits which the world does not ask of you, 
 and concerning which you will be questioned 
 only at the day of judgment. The Apostle says : 
 " It is a very small thing that I should be judged 
 of you or of man's judgment, yea, I judge not 
 mine own self; he that judgeth me is the Lord." 
 Many of the fruits that the world demands of 
 you will pass away when the world passes away. 
 Are you determined to bring forth fruit that 
 shall remain, — remain through all eternity ? Do 
 you enter upon this new portion of your life with 
 an earnest determination to cultivate the fruits of 
 the spirit and of righteousness that are of worth 
 in the sight of God ? 
 
 Let us animate ourselves to this resolution with 
 the words of the Lord (John xv. 1 - 16) : — 
 
 " I am the true vine, and my Father is the hus- 
 bandman. Every branch in me that beareth not 
 fruit, he taketh away ; and every branch that 
 beareth fruit, he purgeth it that it may bring 
 forth more fruit. Now ye are clean through the 
 word which I have spoken to you. 
 
 " Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch 
 cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the 
 vine, no more can ye, except ye abide in me. I 
 am the vine, ye are the branches : he that abid- 
 eth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth 
 
358 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 much fruit ; for without me ye can do nothing. 
 If a man abide not in me, he is cast forth as a 
 branch and is withered ; and men gather them, 
 and cast them into the lire, and they are burned. 
 
 " If ye abide in me and my words abide in you, 
 ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done 
 unto you. Herein is my Father glorified, that ye 
 bear much fruit ; so shall ye be my disciples. 
 
 " As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved 
 you ; continue ye in my love. If ye keep my 
 commandments, ye shall abide in my love ; even 
 as I have kept my Father's commandments, and 
 abide in his love. 
 
 " These things have I spoken unto you, that my 
 joy might remain in you, and that your joy might 
 be full. 
 
 " This is my commandment, that ye love one 
 another, as I have loved you. Greater love hath 
 no man than this, that a man lay down his life for 
 his friends. Ye are my friends, if ye do whatso- 
 ever I command you. 
 
 " Henceforth I call you not servants ; for the 
 servant knoweth not what his Lord doeth ; but I 
 have called you friends ; for all things that I have 
 heard of my Father I have made known unto 
 you. Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen 
 you, and ordained you, that ye should go and 
 bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should re- 
 main ; that whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father 
 in my name, he may give it you." 
 
pain. 359 
 
 Let us occupy ourselves to-day with these 
 words of the Lord, — " that we are ordained to 
 bring forth fruit, that shall remain." And we 
 will first consider what such an admonition re- 
 quires of us, and, secondly, what help we have in 
 obeying its request. 
 
 Life is a field fit for sowing, the little human 
 heart is a large seed-chamber, and eternity the 
 day of harvest. Look, my friends, into the con- 
 fused bustle of life, how men plough and sow and 
 labor, how the fruit grows and increases beneath 
 their hands ! tell me, how much of the fruit 
 that all men produce is that fruit that will abide, 
 — abide when the world passes away ? 
 
 Dear brothers, tell me how much fruit will re- 
 main of your seed, which you have strewn, when 
 the world passes away ? And yet, you have only 
 fulfilled the destiny of your life, according to the 
 measure in which you have sowed such seed. So 
 grandly, so sublimely, has our Lord traced out 
 for us the destiny of life when he says, " I have 
 ordained you, that ye should bring forth fruit." 
 Again, " Herein is my Father glorified, that ye 
 bear much fruit." Sluggish, earthly spirits, do 
 you understand this ? For this lofty aim has your 
 Heavenly Father created you, since Christ has 
 chosen and ordained you in his kingdom, for the 
 high end, that you bear fruit that shall remain. 
 If this bearing of fruit that shall abide, is in- 
 
360 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 deed the whole aim of life and of Christianity, 
 tell me, do you not hold it as a necessary re- 
 quirement in the life of every Christian, that he 
 should preserve one quiet hour of every evening 
 when he may ask himself what fruit he has 
 brought forth for eternity that day ? And if each 
 day does not own such a quiet hour, ought not at 
 least each great division of life to present one ? 
 
 And what is this bearing of fruit ? The Scrip- 
 tures speak of a double fruit of the Christian ; — 
 of a fruit within, which is called the fruit of the 
 spirit and of righteousness ; of an outer fruit, 
 of souls won to the kingdom of God ; as when the 
 Apostle says, that he would have gone to the Ro- 
 mans, " that he might have some fruit in them 
 also, even as among other Gentiles." What this 
 fruit-bearing is, the Lord himself shows in the 
 passage we are considering, when he describes it 
 in the words, " If ye keep my commandments " ; 
 and again he explains what it is, when he says, 
 " Continue ye in my love " ; and, " This is my 
 commandment, that ye love one another, as I 
 have loved you." I have wished to present to 
 you the greatness of the Lord's requirements, and 
 when I offer you this explanation, you think, per- 
 haps, that his demands are limited. For to con- 
 tinue in his love, and to love one another, — if it 
 depends upon this only, you say, — who can fail ? 
 O holy, sublime word, love ! How men drag thee 
 
PAIN. 361 
 
 to the dust, how they imprison thy infinity in nar- 
 row limits ! Only, merely, to love Jesus and our 
 brethren ! As easily can you say, only to be for 
 ever damned or for ever blessed. That this is not 
 a little thing, that everything is expressed by it, 
 you ought to perceive, since it is written, " Love 
 is the fulfilment of the law," and since the 
 Lord here portrays the keeping of his command- 
 ments as the manifestation of love. Those fruits 
 of the spirit, as Paul recounts them, love, joy, 
 peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, 
 meekness, temperance, — are they not, all, the 
 fruits of the heart that dwells in the love of Jesus ? 
 And, again, the fruits that were gathered for the 
 kingdom of God from a world that had been lost 
 without Christ, what else has gathered them, but 
 the love that, after the example of Jesus, seeks 
 for that which is lost ? Would you behold a tree 
 in the garden of God, rich with all the fruits of 
 righteousness, which shine golden in the rays of 
 the sun of mercy, look upon Paul. Would you 
 have an idea of the fruits with which his inner 
 man is adorned before God, learn from the mouth 
 of a man who speaks only the truth : "I there- 
 fore so run, not as uncertainly ; so fight I, not as 
 one that beateth the air ; but I keep under my 
 body, and bring it into subjection, lest that by 
 any means, when I have preached to others, I my- 
 self should be a castaway." Would you behold 
 
 31 
 
3G2 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 the fruit which he gathered in the world for the 
 granaries of his Master, learn it, when he says, 
 " From Jerusalem, and round about Illyricum, I 
 have fully preached the gospel of Christ," and 
 when he is able to speak of " those things that 
 are without, that which cometh upon me daily, 
 the care of all the churches. Who is weak, and 
 I am not weak ? who is offended, and I burn 
 not ? * And what is the water of life, that streams 
 through this fruit-laden tree, from the root to the 
 branches ? " For though I preach the gospel," he 
 cries, " I have nothing to glory of ; for necessity 
 is laid upon me ; yea, woe is unto me if I preach 
 not the gospel " ; for the " love of Christ," as he 
 elsewhere says, " constraineth me." To bring 
 forth fruits from within and without, which shall 
 remain,, and to love Jesus and our brethren, is, 
 truly, one and the same thing. 
 
 But a question presses upon us here, a weighty 
 question. Is the fruit which we have here men- 
 tioned indeed the only fruit that shall abide when 
 the world passes away, of what use then, you ask, 
 are the occupations of our daily life ? Shall we 
 not let them stand aside for those who serve 
 the gods of this world, and, that we may save 
 our own souls, flee ourselves to the solitude of 
 monastic cells? Here we touch upon a point, 
 that shows why all you hear in this holy place 
 leaves you frequently so cold. Here is preached 
 
pain. 363 
 
 to you a love towards Jesus and the immortal 
 souls of your brethren, and when you go out from 
 here, there waits for each one the toil and sweat 
 of a calling, which, as it appears, brings forth 
 only fruits which will pass away. You see nt> 
 living connection between the demands of the 
 church and the daily duty of your life. High as 
 the church-tower rises above the tumult of life, 
 above your houses and homes, as high stands the 
 church with its preaching above your daily occu- 
 pations. You look up to it, but it remains to you 
 a strange land ; high as the heavens, it enters 
 not your homes, your cottages, your workshops, 
 or parlors. Brothers ! the profession and the 
 calling should not stand near the kingdom of God, 
 but in it. If it only brings forth fruits that will 
 pass away, when the world passes away, it is your 
 fault. Let us begin with the lowest pursuits of 
 life ! Tell me, is it not necessary to preserve the 
 temple of God, in which dwells the spirit that 
 is to bring forth fruit that shall abide ? And 
 those members of the body which are most in dis- 
 honor, are they not as necessary for the support 
 of life as the most honorable ? No calling which 
 is necessary for the support of social life is in it- 
 self ignoble. Is only love towards God and your 
 brethren the source whence flows that fidelity 
 with which you perform the lowest ' conoerns of 
 life, then do you bring forth fruit which shall re-~ 
 
364 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 « 
 
 main. There remains the inner fruit, for your 
 fidelity has preserved in your own heart the puri- 
 ty of your love, and you will take this enhanced 
 and purified love away into eternity ; there re- 
 mains the outer fruit, for you have so labored, 
 that your earthly condition shows in what way 
 souls can be drawn towards heaven. Is this true 
 of the lower pursuits of life, how much more of 
 those that demand knowledge ! Has love to Jesus 
 and your brethren driven you to seek truth with 
 fidelity and divine earnestness in any sphere of 
 knowledge, then the fruit of such fidelity abides 
 in your own soul. It remains also in the world. 
 For wherever beams of truth press into the com- 
 mon life of men, then it must serve to glorify him 
 who is King in the land of truth. Since all truth 
 has come forth from God, so must all truth, of 
 whatever nature it may be, lead back to him. If 
 your pursuits in life are apart from your life in 
 the kingdom of God, so that they only bring forth 
 fruit that passes away, then it is your own fault, 
 because all that you do and that you pursue, you 
 do not through love of the Son of God and your 
 brethren. 
 
 Arise, then ; you know now what it is to bear 
 fruit, and you have heard the saying of the Lord 
 that you are ordained to bring forth just such fruit. 
 Then, brethren, begin with this new term of your 
 life upon a new season, when you will ask your- 
 
pain. 365 
 
 self daily, with an earnestness quite different, from 
 any you have shown before, whether the fruit 
 which shall abide increases in you. Beautiful 
 Christian words dwell upon your lips ; well, these 
 are the leaves of the tree of life. Holy feelings 
 throb at times through your heart ; these are its 
 blossoms. But there will come a day when the 
 Lord of the vineyard will ask not for the leaves, 
 nor for the flowers, but for the fruit. Therefore, 
 are you in earnest with regard to your salvation, 
 let there not be wanting, in a single day of your 
 life, one quiet hour of the morning or evening in 
 which you may ask yourself concerning the growth 
 of this fruit. Manifold are the relations of your 
 life. You are a workman or scholar, father or 
 child, son or daughter, master or servant; all 
 these relations are branches of the tree of life. 
 Do the fruits of righteousness hang on all these 
 branches ? Is it seen of- all men, in all these rela- 
 tions, that you are a disciple of Christ ? Friends, 
 who can in the quiet hour question himself ear- 
 nestly concerning the fruits of his faith, without 
 casting down his eyes in shame, and needing 
 some great, strong consolation to save him from 
 throwing away all hope ? 
 
 But is the demand great that springs from 
 these words of the Lord, yet is that which sup- 
 ports us in fulfilling it also great. For has the 
 disciple of the Lord, as we read in this passage, 
 
 31* 
 
866 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 once become "a branch of the vine" of Jesus, 
 then also is the Father the husbandman. When 
 you were without Christ in the world, how 
 often must it have happened to you, that, in that 
 hour when on your right stood earnest duty, on 
 the left alluring pleasure, you clutched your own 
 breast, to find there the strength for victory, — 
 and in vain ! The disciples of Christ seek not 
 after such strength in vain. Is the saying of 
 Christ true, "Without me you can do nothing? " 
 So also are the words of Paul true, " I can do all 
 things through Christ which strengtheneth me." 
 There is a mysterious connection between the 
 glorified Redeemer and you, which you cannot 
 have learnt from experience, but may believe 
 through faith in the word of God ! There is a 
 mysterious connection with the glorified Redeem- 
 er, through which, as the juice of the grape swells 
 through the vine, strength rises for the Christian 
 for every good work, — for everything for which 
 the demand comes to us from without. For to 
 do everything is not allotted to all, — only to do 
 that work for which each finds a demand in the 
 relations of his life, only what can be looked upon 
 as the duty enjoined by the Father. But all this 
 you are able to do, are you only planted in Jesus, 
 and become one with him, and have drawn near 
 to him. With all these strong expressions do 
 the Scriptures portray the connection between the 
 
pain. 367 
 
 spiritual branch and the spiritual vine. And how 
 is such a close connection formed? The band 
 which thus draws together the branch which is 
 upon earth, and the vine which is in heaven, is^ 
 called faith. This is the first consolation which 
 our text offers us. 
 
 But there is a second, that we have a heavenly 
 husbandman who cares for the branches. When 
 you were without Christ in the world, you were 
 a wild tree in the field, whose leaves were torn by 
 every storm, whom no kind hand watered when 
 it was dry, whose branches no gentle hand bound 
 up when they were broken. Since you have be- 
 lieved in Christ, you have been transplanted to a 
 favoring soil, you have found a gardener who, 
 when the storms rise, protects you, who, when it 
 is dry, gives you water, who binds up the broken 
 branches. Since you are a branch of the vine of 
 Christ, the Heavenly Father who planted this vine 
 is also your husbandman, who purge th his branch- 
 es that they may bring forth more fruit. To purge 
 the vine, that is to prune the shoots that deprive 
 the branches of the vine of their strength. My 
 beloved, since we have become branches of the 
 vine of Christ, whatever withdraws strength from 
 the vine, these are the offshoots, they are those 
 ungodly inclinations that have ho connection with 
 the kingdom of God, and by them that strength 
 is destroyed which should bring forth goodly 
 
368 THE SEVENTH STORMY SUNDAY. 
 
 fruit. The more any one is satisfied to stand in 
 so loose a connection with Christ, by which, it is 
 true, he brings forth leaves and flowers, but no 
 fruit, so many more offshoots remain in him. 
 There prevails in oiir time a Christianity in which 
 there is frequent talk of Christly doctrine and 
 Christian feelings, without earnest self-examina- 
 tion, without purging of the offshoots which spring 
 from the nature of man. There prevails a Chris- 
 tianity which preaches finely how noble Christ is, 
 but says not how pitiful is man, so that it never 
 reaches a repentance daily renewed, nor a faith 
 each day fought for anew. Such a Christianity 
 will not stand at the day of judgment. The 
 Lord declares in the parable we have quoted, that 
 the branches which bring forth no fruit shall be 
 hewn down, and shall be burned. Observe, he 
 says this of the branches, even of those who al- 
 ready stand in a certain relationship with him, 
 who can say in a certain sense they are Christians, 
 who can point to the leaves and blossoms which 
 the spirit of Christ -has produced, but no fruits. 
 O, is it not pitiful that it is possible to be a 
 branch of the vine, and that the branch may 
 be hewn down ? Ah, how deceived will they 
 find themselves, who allow themselves to be satis- 
 fied with their leaves and blossoms, when an ear- 
 nest voice shall ask them, Have I not ordained 
 you to bring forth fruit, — fruit which shall abide ? 
 
pain. 369 
 
 Yet, beloved, the beginning of even such a con- 
 nection with Christ brings its blessings with it. 
 You who have made this beginning, if you do 
 not yourselves bring the knife to such offshoots, 
 lo ! you stand beneath a heavenly husbandman, 
 who from heaven reaches down a hand towards 
 them. In the life of every Christian there are 
 hours when the pruning-knife cuts, where the 
 heart clings to Christ, deep into those bonds of a 
 love that is not consecrated to God, — into every 
 inclination of the soul that is not newly born. 
 0, he who has not sought for a fervor higher 
 than himself lives to see with astonishment how 
 in the course of his life God's pruning-knife 
 touches him just in that spot where he is most 
 sensitive, where his connection with the world is 
 the strongest! There is — yes, brethren, there 
 is truly in the life of every Christian a mercy of 
 discipline from God. Yes, the words are true 
 which the Scriptures tell us : " Whom the Lord 
 loveth, he chasteneth ; if ye endure chastening, 
 God dealeth with you as with sons. ,, 
 
 If everything came to you 
 
 Exactly as you willed, 
 
 And God took nothing from you, 
 
 No burden gave to bear, 
 
 How would it at youi* dying, 
 
 O children, be with you 1 
 
 Your hearts would sink in anguish, 
 
 So dear the world to you ! 
 
370 THE SEVENTH STOKMY SUNDAY. 
 
 - If one after another » 
 
 Your dearest ties are loosed, 
 Then joyous can you wander 
 Towards heaven through the grave. 
 Your trembling then is over, 
 While hope inspires your souls ; 
 This truth, so often spoken, 
 Is ne'er too often told ! 
 
 Now, dear friends, lie still when you observe 
 that God's pruning-knife is cutting away your off- 
 shoots, even though the heart bleed. " That 
 they may bear more fruit," — for this reason he 
 purgeth his branches, and without the fruits of 
 goodness you cannot enter into his kingdom. My 
 brethren, he would prepare you all fully for 
 this, by your sorrowful as well as by your happy 
 hours. 
 
THE EIGHTH SUNDAY. 
 
 SUNSHINE. 
 
 u Thy sun shall no more go down ; neither shall thy moon 
 withdraw itself; for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and 
 the days of thy mourning shall be ended." — Isaiah lx. 20. 
 
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