STACk 660 Ex Libris C. K. OGDEN VISIONS FOR MISSIONARIES AND OTHERS OTHER BOOKS BY SAME AUTHOR SCRIPTURE MESSAGES for Mission Workers. 164 pp. in cloth, gilt lettered. Price Is. 6d. net, by post Is. 9d. THE CHURCH ON THE PRAIRIE. 116 pp. crown 8vo and 24 pp. of illustrations printed on art paper, bound attractively. Price Is. net, by post Is. 3d. Sixth Edition. PRINCIPLES AND PROBLEMS OF FOREIGN MISSIONS, being three Lectures delivered in Church House. Price Is. net, by post Is. 2\d. Third Edition MANKIND AND THE CHURCH. By SEVEN BISHOPS. Edited with an Introduction by the Rt. Rev. H. H. MONTGOMERY, D.D. 7s. 6rf. net. (Longmans, Green & Co.) FOREIGN MISSIONS. (Handbooks for the Clergy Series.) Price 2s. 6d. net. (Longmans, Green & Co.) SERVICE ABROAD. Lectures delivered in the Divinity School of the University of Cambridge. Price 2s. 6d. net. S.P G. OFFICE, 15 Tufton Street, Westminster VISIONS FOR MISSIONARIES AND OTHERS BY H. H. MONTGOMERY, D.D, D-C.L. SOMETIME BISHOP OF TASMANIA ETARY OF THE SOCIETY FOR THE PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL PRELATE OF THE OXDER OF S. MICHAEL AND S. GEORGE SEVENTH IMPRESSION PUBLISHED BY THE far ITur jJnrjjatjation of 15 TUFTON STREET, WESTMINSTER, S.W. 1914 PREFACE THIS is simply a collection of ' Scripture Messages ' published in the ' Mission Field ' between 1906 and 1909, a previous volume having been published with the above title. The office I hold bids me enter daily into the trials and joys of many persons in many lands, all engaged in one work. And I have attempted, in some of the following pages, to expound Scripture through the medium of human lives as they prove by experience the truth of the written Word. It may be that here and there heart may answer to heart, albeit my characters are all of them creatures of imagination : yet none the less I hope they may be true to fact. H. H. M. S.P.G. HOUSE, November 1909. 1023146 CONTENTS PAGE THE FASHIONING OF A CHOSEN VESSEL (l) . I (2) f E, 6 (3) " (4) 16 (5) - 21 (6) v. 26 THE RIVER . . . . .31 PERPLEXITIES . . . , . 3 6 PERSONAL AMBITIONS . . 4! MANNERS ... 46 SUCCESSORS OF APOSTLES . . . .52 CARES . . . .' . 57 WONDER . . . . .62 THE NEW NAME . . . 67 PRAISE . .... . -?2 WAITING ... . . . 77 USELESS PILLARS . . . . 8 1 UNDER-ROWERS ..... 85 PERFUMES GOOD AND BAD . . . .90 THE LORD'S MIRROR .... 94 LIGHTS OF THE WORLD . . . .99 DEVOTION . . . . . 104 AARON AND HUR . . . . . IOg A THANKOFFERING OF MONEY . . . 115 A PERSONAL THANKOFFERING 121 viii CONTENTS PAGE THE JUDGMENT OF BISHOPS . . . 128 UPHILL . . . . . .135 THE ANSIDEI MADONNA . . . . 142 TRANSFORMATION . . . .148 THE RETURN OF TALENTS . . . 154 TYPES OF SAINTLINESS .... l6o RENUNCIATION ..... 166 THE LIGHT THAT OVERCAME . . .172 A WARMING APPARATUS . . . . 179 THE GIFT OF GOD . . . . .183 WORDS AND WORKS .... 187 ANXIETY FOR ALL THE CHURCHES: (i) India . 192 ,, (2) Africa 197 j, (3) Australia . 204 ,, ,, ,, (4) Bush Farms 211 THE FASHIONING OF A CHOSEN VESSEL (i) 'He is a chosen vessel unto Me.' ACTS ix. 15. WITH these words spoken to Ananias the Lord began the training of St. Paul as a Christian ; the chosen vessel lay prone at present, blind and dazed. And if you wish you may read most of the remaining chapters of the Book of the Acts and all St. Paul's Epistles as the record of ' the making of God's servant,' the outer and the inner revelation of the process. St. Paul, however, is not the only chosen vessel. Your Catechism will tell you, who are reading these lines, that you also are one of these ; you, too, are being fashioned for use. Let us try and record what we have learnt for ourselves of the manner of the making in successive articles. First, I note that there seems to me to be a clear difference between the fashioning of a vessel by an artist and the making of a (1500/0.19842) 2 VISIONS spiritual person by God. I mean that generally the order of the work is inverted. The artist begins by doing his rough work first, cutting the holes for the ornamentation, and using the heavy instruments before he takes up the little hammer and the graving tools. In the spiritual making the lighter tools come into play first, the heavier afterwards. The child precedes the man and needs gentle work upon him. The young shoulders are treated before the old head. The gracious God knows ' what man can bear ' and what he cannot. Therefore we will treat of that heavy work hereafter. The baptised Christian, with the germ of the Spirit within him, is fashioned to a very great extent into the vessel for use by the constant tapping of a little hammer. Family life is full of that sound. Relatives are out- spoken, forgetting courtesy to a member of the same household. Children are fretful, exacting, unstable, ungovernable, noisy, wakeful, passion- ate. Your nerves are strung up by many hours of hard work bread-winning. Are you to have no peace when you come home ? Surely it is your right, and to be maddened with noise and unrest is intolerable. Your wife, on the other hand, is equally overborne by the long day of endurance, and looks to you for sympathy and restfulness. You have a special time for A CHOSEN VESSEL 3 prayer and meditation. It is, in fact, your life ; but that time is eaten into, interrupted, lost, by calls for aid in the household life, by callers or sudden business. My own impression is that you will find the Lord, not miss Him, in the call ; and if you are quite sweet-tempered and not at all ruffled you will see a smile on His face. (Do you feel the tiny hammer-strokes ?) You have work to do with others associated with you in committees, in schools, in an office, in a parish. Your chief is unsympathetic, tactless, too often imputes the worst motive, always seems to be in opposition, seldom agrees with your ideals, is rough in speech and manner. Every step you take jars you, but no point is sufficiently clear to put into words. (Tap, tap : listen to the hammer.) You have to spend your days with those who do not refer actions to Christian motives. You always seem to be on the defensive, and this affects your temper ; and you often feel that you have made but a poor exhibition of the Christian temper, and thus in anguish you feel you are misunderstood. (Tap, tap.) Graving tool and hammer are busy with you. If you are young, remember what noble uses may be awaiting you. If already you are enrolled in the army of God at home or abroad, forget not that you leel the touch of God in every sting or trial ; the fashioning 4 VISIONS angel looks wistfully at you, as he hopes you will understand and praise God for His care. Remember that your life must not only be good, but beautiful. ' Though nothing can be beautiful except what is in some sense or other good, not everything that is good is also beauti- ful ' (Max Miiller). The Lord says, ' I am the beautiful shepherd ' so at least the words may stand. Can we now name a cure for many of these blows of the hammer, the discipline of daily life ? A great deal, a very great deal will have been accomplished if you will steadily pray for the persons who are in one way or another your discipline. For the children who demand so much, for the tactless chief, the rough-mannered fellow-worker, the imputer of low motives, the disturbers of your prayers, the scoffer at your Christian principles it will help you to put yourself in their place, to recall their past history, often the cause of the trouble ; it will make you tender towards your fellows and your relatives. But, again, do not forget that what you are saying of others they may be saying of you. ' What ? I am their special torment, discipline, difficulty ? ' Yes, it is more than likely. Is it very humbling that you are some one else's hammer, tap, tapping on them ? Humbling and salutary truth ; it makes us far more ready A CHOSEN VESSEL 5 now to learn the lighter lessons that God is teaching by the discipline of daily life. There has been no apostle, saint, or prophet who has not learnt more than half his best lessons this way. In 2 Corinthians xi. St. Paul gives us a list of one kind of discipline, but it comes home to us more and more as age advances that the most important facts of history, the things that have really made history, are only recorded in that book kept above which misses nothing. II THE FASHIONING OF A CHOSEN VESSEL (2) 'He is a chosen vessel unto Me.' ACTS ix. 15. THE fashioning of the vessel proceeds, and deeper impressions are made by Him Who ' hath need of you.' Yet I think it is idle to assert that the harder blows are either worse or better than a multitude of slighter shocks. As well ask the traveller whether weeks among mosquitoes are worse or better than the twenty-four hours of supreme effort when life hung in the balance. All discipline is good. Only, my friend, do not try to forecast the future ; even if you could do it, do not wish to discover what may be coming a few years hence, for the burdens of the future will not come till you have been strengthened to bear them. You would not tell the girl or lad what would befall them ere fifty was reached. The first great blow delivered by the angel of death or by the hand of a fellow-mortal will make you say, ' I can never be happy again.' A CHOSEN VESSEL 7 ' Life can never be the same thing to me again.' Against this I deliberately place the Christian's certainty, ' The best is always in front.' What, always ? Yes, always. And remember that there are many windows into heaven which will not open without a severe blow. The south wind blowing softly does not shake them ; but a tornado, which breaks a good deal, does let in vision, and you may hear unspeakable words which have meaning enough to more than counterbalance the destruction done elsewhere ; aye, and the world finds out what has befallen you. It would be a bad thing for the world were there no cripples, none who are ever in pain, none who bear marks of blows from man. It would be a bad thing for this great world if our Mission workers had not been fashioned with many a heavy stroke ; for it is all part of the facts gathering round vicarious suffering. Yet we must again repeat, ' The best is ever in front,' for there is the Way there, too, in another sense, along it and at the end of it, is He Who gave for us His flesh and His blood. The two terms express so much taken separately Himself, His suffering. One does not like to dwell long upon the deeps of a noble life ; I can but hint. It has been told us that the late Mr. Watts, R.A., received long ago one of those staggering shocks which 8 VISIONS are the supreme anguish of life, the worst that one mortal can bestow upon another. He could not forgive : so he began by saying ; but he did forgive. And I believe that it was this once impossible act made possible which opened the eyes of the great painter to the heavenly realities. I fancy we owe all his greatest paintings and thoughts to that act of forgiveness. I do not know that he would ever have seen Love and Light and Death and Hope as he did see them, unless that door had been opened up to God's throne by the crash of the tornado which levelled home flat upon the earth. The lesson is great, so great that we keep silence before it. But at least, my friend, you will believe that there are blessed heights and depths of the spirit in you not yet realised, but to be evolved by the Spirit moving in His power over your life. Dreadful indeed is the pain of the blow to you at the time ; blessed is the effect for the world, blessed for you, too, when it makes you a closer companion of Him Who has fathomed all these depths and is feeding you out of His fulness as you can bear it. So the vessel grows in beauty and capacity, and for God's purposes for the world He loves so much. Of course it is a commonplace of life that the forward view and the backward view are so ludicrously different the obverse and reverse of A CHOSEN VESSEL 9 the shield. Imagine yourself, for example, as a young worker for the Lord, using such words as these of Miss Thackeray's : ' As life goes on we learn our limitations. We learn also how much we can bear, how long we can wait, how much we can forgive, and how much forgiveness we need from others.' These are the results, not of the light graving tools or hammer, but of the smashing blows that make holes. But all is well the best is ever in front, because He is there. But is there no joy and gladness in the fashion- ing of the vessel ? Surely there is. A blow is sometimes delivered by a great happiness which cannot be surpassed in effect by anything else. I hope this has been experienced by most of us ; at times thankfulness is so intense for a supreme joy that it leaves a permanent impress, it turns the life round and gives it for good to Him Who is the giver of all good gifts. It makes Sunday the day when we turn with a sigh of relief from labour to sit still in the House of God, or to kneel at the altar out of sheer gratitude ; the first day of the week becomes the day we keep for going to thank in person Him to Whom we owe all that we hold most dear, and to do it in His House. To-day throughout the world God's workers are being so splendidly fashioned in torrid heats, in arctic cold, in loneliness, in io VISIONS anxieties for a flock they cannot cope with, by ill-health, and anxiety for their dearest, by the weight of opposition. To them there is little of romance ; to many onlookers the vision is of the chosen vessel growing in grace and usefulness and beauty, meet for the Master's use. Ill THE FASHIONING OF A CHOSEN VESSEL (3) ' He is a chosen vessel unto Me.' ACTS ix. 15 LET us who live at home now look definitely away from these shores to our workers far off. Chosen by the Lord, as St. Paul was, they are being fashioned for deeper and deeper service by those special trials, perplexities, and sorrows known best of all by missionaries. What are these ? I will set down some, not from imagination, but from the actual testimony of God's people abroad. (i) Looking back. Our human hearts can be forgiven for that. Thoughts of the old home and church, of beautiful England in spring-time. There it all comes back like a flash on a burning day in the tropics. But it is but for a moment. We look away and see Him standing before us saying, ' Follow Me.' He for us is not in England, but beside us. There is the joy : ' the Master is here and calleth thee.' Mary did not 12 VISIONS rise and hasten more quickly than we rise up to turn away from looking back, holding out our hands to the Master in the work He has called us to do. Will you smile at an illustration taken from a dog's ways ? Curled up by the fireside on a winter's night with snow 7 and rain outside, suddenly he springs up and runs out heedless of the storm : no one has heard a sound but he : he has heard far away his master's footstep and has gone to him. Often it is an amazement to many to understand the motive of the missionary and the joy in his face ; yet it is so simple. He hears the Master calling. No ; looking back is but for a moment, and we are ashamed. (2) Expecting the harvest. There are times when you must not be thinking only of the sowing and harrowing. Probably the trial is due to shortness of sight upon our part, and we do not look right away to the power of God and the conviction that His will shall certainly be done. ' Yes, but they are expecting to hear of successes at home, and people who support us will be disappointed and perhaps will cease to give.' Then it is for us at home to send the message : ' Fret not, " Waiting times are times of progress," ' perhaps none so good as these when God under the surface tends the seed and is preparing for the spring. There A CHOSEN VESSEL 13 is no more beautiful life than that of one who has lived wholly for God in the field and is denied the view of the promised land : denied ? nay, postponed. (3) Impatience and irritability in a hot climate. However willing the spirit the flesh feels the climate : only too often the man feels the lack of balanced strength and the nerves suffer. Civilians in India hardly realise perhaps the strain put upon a missionary's life, because emotion in the true sense of the word is a necessary factor in mission life. The religious teacher cannot only use his brain calmly and quietly : the whole man, the heart of a man must be behind every word and act : sympathy, imagination, intensity of devotion, must be actively felt, otherwise there is no religious teaching. The pew realises all this instan- taneously in the pulpit. When the whole man deeply in earnest speaks, a thrill is communi- cated, not otherwise. But it is here where the nerves surfer : it is here in consequence where the Scripture lesson differs in tone from the lesson in mathematics or science : here where the tropical heat tells more on the missionary than upon the civilian or business man. The afternoon service in summer even in England is often a discipline to the priest, and he needs to see his Master beside him in the pulpit i 4 VISIONS whispering, ' Speak for Me,' in order to brace himself up to intensity. What is it in the lands where it is ' always afternoon ' ? Then comes the sense of reproach for probable failure, and then the fretted nerves. Then the slightest word causes irritation. The most harmless remark by a fellow-worker induces unrest, and we are tempted to be semi-sarcastic, or we explode. Bad enough even to a fellow-worker who understands the situation and makes due allowance ; but what if it is the recent convert, most immature, probably with more sensitive nerves than ours, which feel the slightest change of tone and shrink from sarcasm in a manner our less tender natures cannot comprehend ? What does the convert think of the Christian teacher's look of wrath or contempt or dislike ? If such experiences are known in lands where the heat is dry though excessive, what of the regions of damp heat ? To most members of our race the zones of moist heat are those of the sorest discipline. The thermometer does not register more than 90, but languor supervenes, so that nothing seems to matter ; nothing, whether intellectual, physical, or spiritual ; yet the whole man, the heart, the sympathies, the quick imagination must be at work if the Christian influence is to be exerted. Let us pray especially for the workers of our own A CHOSEN VESSEL 15 race in all the hot and damp climates of the earth. A special crown awaits them, I believe, and it is good that they should know how fully we here at home realise their peculiar discipline. But how the grace of God Almighty triumphs over these tiials ! And when our workers come home and we note the look so many missionaries have, both men and women, on their return, our hearts go out to them. It is the look of a chastened life worn down, humble, resigned, but trustful : having borne much but not borne down. The mark of a very definite cross is upon their shoulder : but also it is the mark of Christ's own Cross laid there by His own Hands, and the Master's own Spirit beams from their faces. It is good to be a chosen vessel when such Hands have the fashioning of us. IV THE FASHIONING OF A CHOSEN VESSEL (4) 'He is a chosen vessel unto Me.' ACTS ix. 15. REMEMBER we are not placing the trials of a missionary above those of a soldier or business man or pioneer. Were I sufficiently conversant with the life of such men it would be a grateful task to chronicle their crosses also as potential steps in the Christian life. We make no com- parisons ; we try to enter simply into the life of our brother soldiers of the Cross, noting how each difficulty can be, has been, overcome with a corresponding growth in character. (4) For the first year or two the young mis- sionary is confronted with a trial unknown at home. Every public service is virtually in an unknown tongue. Imagine the strain this entails upon him intellectually ; the spirit has to sleep while the brain puzzles over words and phrases, and struggles to keep up with the reader or A CHOSEN VESSEL 17 preacher. Amidst the reasons for the day's exhaustion must be numbered that of a student who has been perplexed and ignorant whilst others have prayed ; all the more eagerly does he turn at night to his own tongue to speak for the first time almost in that day without strain. (5) Loss of evangelistic zeal. Every mis- sionary prays against this, and every earnest man knows what it is to be unconsciously taking the line of least resistance. A parish priest at home finds himself visiting more and more those only who welcome him, only the com- municants, or only the Church workers, or persuading himself that his duty is to be in the Church itself without time for any visitation, and the wandering sheep are sought by no shepherd. In the enormous field of mission effort to-day the missionary-hearted young priest often unconsciously turns to a land where there is no new language to learn ; where he can be of use at once, and after a few years can return to England. I am not accusing any, merely desiring to show that we all, often uncon- sciously, take the line of least resistance. It seems to be our duty, and it may be, but it is not necessarily the noblest duty. And if we are all conscious of such tendencies in any department of life, be sure that the missionary in a non- Christian land suffers from the same temptation. i8 VISIONS The building up of converts is so important, the schools so interesting, industrial work so valuable, medical work so obviously a blessing, that last of all he will be tempted to put directly aggressive work with all its attendant discom- forts ; for we rouse anger by controversy, encounter a painful publicity, embark on work the fruit of which is so far distant ; it is the most distressing to nerves and temper and the most exhausting. Yet the man of God is fashioned best when he may calmly determine to do first that which is most distasteful to temperament, and he who follows his Master's example by going forth into the villages and cities publishing the good tidings will have his Master's company and model his own character on his Lord's. (6) Doubts in the face of the lofty teaching and the noble lives of people of other Faiths. This is a trial affecting most strongly the tenderest natures, the sympathetic, courteous gentleman who is ever seeking to credit all with the best motives and achievements. Accompany him on one of his walks. He sees one of his own race the worse for drink, another white man rough and coarse in speech to a dark-skinned brother. Then he meets a dignified native gentleman, courteous, educated, upright. A little further on he sees a man wholly engrossed in prayer by the roadside, evidently in deep A CHOSEN VESSEL 19 earnest. The very breadth of his sympathies becomes his torment, for he holds that God is very near to every human soul somehow ; every good act and thought in anyone is the work of the Holy Spirit. He knows, too, that his Western mind makes it almost impossible to understand the Oriental nature. Do what he will, he is English, not Oriental, and his teaching may not run in the right groove for this race. He may destroy this man's present faith and fail to give him the other. His deepest instincts terrify him and make him doubt whether he is justified in continuing his work when he remembers his many failures in the past. It is well that we at home should realise these doubts, which produce a kind of anguish in proportion as the missionary is a fine instrument and an honourable gentleman. It is obvious, too, that only one thing can give him peace ; nothing but personal, living communion with the Master is adequate for the purpose. But that suffices. ' Banish these doubts, O Blessed Master ! For this man too Thou hast died. Nay, for him Thou livest. Perchance at this moment Thou art interceding for his life by name. It cannot harm anyone to know Thee as some have said, or to realise for ever Thine abiding presence and peace. Though I may not comprehend this man's nature, yet to Thee he lies open, and Thou art as much of his race as of 20 VISIONS mine, for Thou art universal man. All I can ever desire to do is to unveil Thee to him, to lead him up to Thee. All I have ever desired after that is to hear Thee say to me, " Now leave me with this thy brother. Let me deal with him, for I know his thoughts. His nature I have borne to the Father." ' It is this quick turning to the Lord which alone aids us, because it brings us back to facts those blessed facts of the Creed. We are not engaged in teaching a philosophy or a moral system, one which can be compared with the moral system of this Oriental race or that, obtaining more marks or less according to human approval. We repeat to ourselves once more the old things : ' Is it a fact that God has sent His Only Begotten Son into the world, to be born of a Virgin, to speak and bless and teach, to die upon the Cross for all, to rise, ascend, and live for us, to come again to judge ? Then no facts in the world are of such transcendent importance as these for every human soul, for this soul before whom I doubt to-day as much as for any other. I must make God's ways known to this man, because it is his inheritance as much as mine.' So the return to the facts of the Christian creed dissipates the doubt and faith returns, and the pain of the doubt overcome by prayer adds one more touch of the graving tool to the vessel of the Lord. V THE FASHIONING OF A CHOSEN VESSEL (5) ' He is a chosen vessel unto Me.' ACTS ix. 15. IT is good for us, whose duty it is to support and pray for the soldiers in the field, to note all we can of their special difficulties, well knowing the uplifting result of the things that oppose. So we proceed. (7) The difficulty of understanding other races. In a minor degree we all know something of this ourselves, because we meet members of our own race whose characters baffle us. Of one we say : ' He seems to think the exact opposite to all I hold and value.' Of another : ' I never know where to " find " him nor how he will act.' Of a third : ' I am sure he is a good man, but he rubs me the wrong way whenever I meet him, and I go away feeling miserable.' Intercourse with our own race, therefore, often requires the ut- most tact, imagination, humble self -repression, and above all the faculty of putting ourselves 22 VISIONS sympathetically in the place of the person with whom we are. Now follow your brother, your ' own mis- sionary,' your substitute in the front line. He is in India : Well climate, religion, political history have had their effect upon a native of India until he may be to you more like an inhabitant of the planet Mars than a dweller upon earth. Remember also that as he looks on you he says the same thing, and for the same reasons. Caste may colour every action of his ; that is, he may hold as an axiom above all need of proof that men are created eternally in classes, in watertight compart- ments, some for honour and some for dis- honour ; no money can buy a step from one to the other, nor can any attainments, spiritual or intellectual, aid a man. With him the cleavage of society is vertical, with us it is horizontal. He may be himself an aristocrat, made so eternally by God ; you are a democrat, believing that any man may pass through all grades of society by proving himself worthy of the change. Or again, climate has made him meditative, unaggressive, thoughtful, time is not to him the important thing that it is to you ; that is, there is plenty of it, there is never need for hurry. Climate has had a good deal to do also in making him gentle, courteous, quick to A CHOSEN VESSEL 23 perceive. He shrinks from coarseness and especially from sarcasm. You are brought up to say that ' Time is money '; to be in a hurry is almost a normal state. The white rabbit in ' Alice in Wonderland ' is no bad picture of your own race, as he skurries along saying, ' I shall be late.' The Indian is like ' Alice ' herself looking on in wonder. There is nothing you are so proud of as the steady even-handed justice of your laws, sure though slow. You offer it as your panacea for the worst ills of India. There is nothing your Oriental brother hates quite so much as this. He does not in the least mind being liable to the loss of all his property and of his head as well, apart from all justice, so long as it is done quickly, and so long as he has the same romantic opportunity. Climate, too, has had a good deal to do, perhaps, in making the Indian a Pantheist. All spiritual things and they are the breath of his life are en- veloped in a haze, just like the scene he so often gazes upon in his own plains, where reality and mirage are blended till reality and illusion are intermixed. Or perhaps your ' own missionary ' is in Africa. He sees before him men of noble physique, but in mind they are children. He expects from them the sturdy independent ways of his own race, and is disappointed. He tries to 24 VISIONS teach the bright boys and girls, and succeeds admirably up to a certain point ; then some- thing baffles him, nothing he can do can get them any further. If he is a foolish man he loses heart or despises them. If he is an instructed gentleman he waxes tender and acknowledges that he is in the presence of mystery, in a nur- sery of the human family where the children possibly remain children for ever. How delight- ful ; it is like entering fairyland. He is glad to know that God has not run all races into the same mould ; and perhaps most glad that he has not made all the world into Anglo-Saxons. He realises that one of the worst dangers to which he is subject is to be ' Sultanised ' in India : his northern climate has toughened the fibre of his body and often coarsened the fibre of his moral nature till his way among races of more delicate mould is like that of a bull in a china shop. Surely he will be glad that there are china shops and that all men are not bulls. Then one day it comes to him to ask how it has come about that God has willed that such as he should have been called to be a missionary race, to have handed to him a message, which is about ' the beautiful Shepherd.' In the front rank are to be placed love, joy, peace, gentleness ; the one essential is vision of the unseen, The Saviour of the world is ' the A CHOSEN VESSEL 25 Lamb of God.' He feels now that every point in the Christian Faith except its strength seems almost antagonistic to his northern nature. Of course he exaggerates, for he has as com- plete a share in Christ's nature as any other race, and is as indispensable for complete humanity as any other ; stilJ the sense of self- abasement grows, and he wonders why he is in India and Africa not only as a ruler, but as an ambassador of the Lord too. I believe he is there because our Heavenly Father delights to show signs and wonders still. He takes clay which looks very unpromising in order to make out of it a most beautiful vessel, not only a piece of stone ware. It is of course a work of grace, and it seems contrary to nature. It is a work of grace, and we are in the region of miracles. As we gaze round the world we see English am- bassadors of the King of kings who are splendid instruments for showing forth the nature of the Lord our Master. They are so tender, so humble and respectful ; they win the passionate affec- tion of tropical and Oriental races. No ; diffi- culty in understanding other races becomes a means of grace, not a hindrance. It throws a man back on God, humbles, blesses, and uplifts him ; and the chastened missionary becomes an ever nobler vessel for the Lord's purposes. VI THE FASHIONING OF A CHOSEN VESSEL (6) ' He is a chosen vessel unto Me.' ACTS ix. 15. (8) The hostility of his own race. I have come to think that this special and most painful of all discipline for the missionary is peculiar to the races of Western Europe. I have sur- veyed the world, and I do not note anywhere else the same open contempt for missions and missionaries that I see among members of my own race. The Semite ? Can you imagine a Jew contemptuous of one who strives to pro- pagate his faith ? The Mohammedan ? The very idea is unthinkable. The Latin ? No ; whatever he may be in his own life he acknow- ledges that his missionaries are acting con- sistently and rightly. The natives of India ? I suppose it is part of their nature to reverence the men with a mission about God. The Far East ? So far as I can tell, those races would A CHOSEN VESSEL 27 behave with the greatest courtesy and kind- ness towards a Confucian or Buddhist or Shinto missionary, and they would do it naturally. The Eastern Christian ? It is impossible to conceive from him anything but grave good- will and respect. What is it then that, as a matter of course, makes a missionary of our own race apprehensive of contempt, amuse- ment, positive hostility, among the company in the saloon of a steamer, in a hotel, at a dinner party ? Of course, good manners may out- wardly conceal any expression of it, but in his heart the follower of the Apostles and of the Lord feels that he is on his defence, that to a good many he is a pariah. Let us set down in cold blood what we have read of ourselves in magazine articles, newspapers, travellers' books, knowing that such opinions are welcomed and rejoiced over by thousands of our countrymen, and, most wonderful of all, by thousands who worship in our churches and are communicants as well. ' Here is a man who really believes he can convert a Hindoo, a Mohammedan, a Con- fucian : how ridiculous it is to us who know.' ' There are no Christians in India except those who have become so from interested motives.' ' In India Christianity is an exotic, it can never take root ; what a pity it is people at home are deluded into throwing money away 28 VISIONS upon such a venture.' ' Each race has a very good religion of its own ; it cannot really assimi- late any other ; you only do harm to a Hindoo or a Chinese by making him a Christian.' ' The missionaries, except the Roman Catholic missionaries, live very comfortably indeed on funds supplied by credulous people at home and do very little work.' ' There would be no troubles in China and elsewhere were it not for missionaries.' ' There would be plenty of cheap and docile labour in such and such a land were it not for the ideas missionaries put into black fellows' heads.' These are not actual quotations, but they sum up my recollections of thirty years ; especially of the chapters at the end of books, which do not seem complete without a fling at the faith of the Gospel. It is, I think, worthy of note that this persistent attitude of our own race against the propagation of our own Faith is an unique thing. If that statement is true it may startle some, and it will in some sense comfort the servant of the Lord in doing his duty. He will get more sympathy from other Christian races. Nay, as he ponders the problem he will realise that his own race shows the same spirit (and in this, too, he is quite unique) against his own army and navy, against the rulers of our Protectorates. He credits them with the worst A CHOSEN VESSEL 29 motives, and accuses them of crimes from which he would shrink. But in the case of missionaries there can be no doubt that thou- sands of our own race do not desire that they should prosper, and are secretly pleased to hear of failure. What is the reason of this spirit ? Is it that those who breathe it are not Christians ? Strange as it may seem, I do not think so. It is due to a racial denseness of apprehension which is, thank God, gradually passing away. Twenty now are sympathetic where one was thirty years ago. The clergy- man who ' does not believe in missions ' has ceased to exist. Very slowly our race is coming to believe that our blessed Lord was not born in London : that He is universal man : that He has taken not Anglo-Saxons but humanity up to the Father : that missions are not founded on one text of the Bible, but on the character of God and the nature of the Incarnate Son and the existence of the Holy Ghost : that the fatherhood of God implies the brotherhood of man in Christ. The chosen vessel of the Lord realises that he himself is a miracle, because God has enabled him, however un- worthy, to see in spite of the racial defect of eyesight. And as he ponders a feeling of tenderness creeps over him for his own race, for its extraordinary limitations and its great 30 VISIONS gifts : for its denseness and its grit : for its likeness to granite, and its usefulness in the world when it is hewn and polished. Oh ! the difficulty of hewing that rock : but also what a strong foundation it makes. Not anger but a sense of humour must be the feeling with which he looks round at the company in the saloon of the steamer. Some are there who will be his best friends, many with their eyes open already, some with no sight yet, but they will get it partly through himself because of his humble and winning character bespeaking intimacy with the Good Shepherd, the Friend of man, the Physician of the world. St. Paul felt in every fibre of his body for his own people and their faithlessness. The missionary from Western Europe prays as fervently for his own people and for their besetting faults and limitations. Their hostility, contempt, laughter deepen his desire to ' bear much fruit,' to cure his own faults and ignorance, to be more worthy of Him Who has called him friend. VII THE RIVER ' There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God.' Ps. xlvi. 4. IN the last six numbers we have spoken of, the things that hinder, and therefore chasten, the servant of God in the Mission field. Was there too much self in it ? a feeling that we were pitying ourselves. I hope not. Rather, we at the base as we looked upon the fighting line far away were trying to realise the spiritual experience of a soldier of Christ. Blessed be the wounds and blows that make saints of our soldiers. Now let the same soldier speak for himself. See how he views his life and tries to unravel its meaning : what joy and faith and peace are in it. ' There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God.' Is it thus my own life should be described ? Incredible as it may seem, yet the love of the Father wills the 3 2 VISIONS river of every man's life to flow through the world till it comes to the ocean, to the city of God, to the Presence of ' the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne.' And can such a river make glad the city of God ? What ? with all the stains of earth within it, with all the mis- takes His child has made ? his petulance and gnorance and waywardness, his pride and his fallings and bitter shame ? I will hold me by His promises and, this life ended, I will trust that He Who told of joy for one sinner found again, may not despise the river of my life when it comes to Him. Some wondrous alchemy there must be which transmutes our stains and pollutions into something golden when repentance and faith are mixed with it. How far away the days of childhood seem, when the little rill rose among the hills above the clouds, in solitude, above the haunts of men, clear, without knowledge of the world. If now men ask me where I learnt my faith in God I must take them from these signs of bustle among the wharves of the city to that source in the hills : before intellectual life began God spoke to me. But the stream soon descended to the cultivated fields : on every side my life received tributaries, the drainage of the houses and of the fields : it darkened the stream and muddied it. But I have learnt to perceive that the river must flow THE RIVER 33 on in spite of these stains, right on to the ocean, and something then shall cleanse it. The one unpardonable sin is to cease flowing. I believe there is no river, however foul, but can make glad the city of God when it gets there, if only it will flow and flow. I have seen won- ders, too, upon the bank. Once I saw the Lord. What do I mean ? I know not how to explain, but I saw Him ; He came and stood upon the bank and looked at me. I think, too, He smiled. Was it once only ? I think so. He was but once transfigured of old, and so I think it is still with men : and each man must explain what it means, if he. can. Have I seen Satan ? Yes, once. And I cannot explain that any more than the other. But there are deep things in life, terrible things. I do not understand anyone desiring to live life over again, not the life of faith. I stretch out my arms to the rife of sight, not knowing what may befall me there, but I cannot think anything can go wrong when we see. Some of the reaches have been a hard ex- perience. To force one's way, for example, through the heart of cities, the crowds, the commerce, the life of the world, its sins, sorrows, and ignorance : I know the river was sent to bless the city. I know not if it did. Once the river passed through a chasm so deep, so beset 34 VISIONS with falls and rapids, that every living thing had to leave it and make a portage, returning to it ten miles lower down. This, too, is a parable ; and so long as sin and evil last the course of the river of our life must be a hard one at times, through the rocks and hills of earth. Did I ever doubt if there was any ocean ? Many have ; for the journey is long ; but in due time there conies a message from the ocean to the river, unmistakable, before we reach it. One day, and this, too, I cannot explain, there comes a thrill. It is the sense of the tide : the tide and the sea wind. And so life at the two ends of it is brought very close to God. First, among the hills in childhood ; then when the tide strikes. There can be no doubt after that, for the ocean is not far away. I find it in my heart now to change the figure used by the seei who has taught me more of God than anyone else ' There shall be no more land.' That is my version ; and the river shall reach the ocean. There in the ocean is the city of God, and God Himself. ' There shall be no more land.' There is the key also which shall be given us : we shall turn the lock and understand. And all will seem so simple then. But though the tide has come to me and the sea wind, I am not yet at the ocean. These last reaches, too, have their special dangers, and I THE RIVER 35 know not what they are, the shoals and sand- banks that guard the ocean and, it may be, check the river's flow altogether. But He Who has guided the stream so very far will guide me through these last perils. Yet I ask myself and cannot give the answer : How can such a river make glad the city of God ? All that I can think to say is that the Heavenly Father is a God of miracles. All His mercy and love and patience is miracle. Lift the veil and look beneath the surface, and all is miracle, all wonderful. The unseen is the real. Yet is all this selfish ? Nay, once in a while the servant of God may speak of his individual life, for he too has his own history, known only to himself and his Maker. The poor missionary toiling for others, not for gain, speaking in a strange tongue, living far from his family, in a climate which is not that of his race, may for once be permitted to sit still and trace the course that has brought him to where he is to-day to the best of lives, the richest, the fullest, the most full of peace. Yet the question still presses How can the river make glad the city of God ? VIII PERPLEXITIES ' What I shall choose I wot not : for I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart, and to be with Christ.' PHIL. i. 22, 23. THIS great man was indeed thinking aloud, putting into language his most intimate musings. Life beyond the veil was so real to him : just a step and there he would be with the Lord. Yet he did not mind saying quite franldy that he thought it would be good for his converts if he lived longer here. He felt he was of use. And how we thank God that he did not hasten his death by some act within his power to do or to avoid. If St. Paul had these hesitations we need not mind owning that we have had them too. For example, how hard ought I to work ? Ought I to be content if I come home after a long day in His service without fatigue ? Can it have been a hard enough day ? Or supposing I work PERPLEXITIES 37 through a long season in perfect health ? Does it not mean that there is too much margin between my strength and the amount of the work done ? But if I always felt tired every night ; if I always felt a little ill, then I should know that I was keeping near the limit of my powers. It is so dreadful to feel that 1 might have borne a heavier burden for my Saviour without injury. But, again, how long ought my life to last ? I have read of those whose earthly career was one burst of flame, as it were ; it was so furious in its force that all were arrested. One such man died at thirty, completely worn out, and yet the effect of such intensity will never pass away. It seems to me that the beacons which light men best are these lives so intense that in point of time they are short, living a century in a tenth part of the time. Would it be best for the Church of God if there were a perpetual suc- cession of such intense lives ? Will not one such beacon create another ? Some who read these words will say that the thoughts are morbid. It is possible, but I do not think so. There are many eager and sensi- tive people given to introspection to whom every question I have asked is quite familiar some of them at home at work here, some far away from the homeXhurch. 38 VISIONS Well, have the questions ever been answered ? No ; they cannot be answered with any cer- tainty, for we cannot see so far. It is part of the perplexity which is such good discipline. Anyone can walk in the broad daylight ; but who will journey on in half-darkness with ques- tions coming and peering at us, and pushing us with tiny fingers demanding an answer which we never give ? All we can say is : ' One step only can I see, no further ; stand back ; I will not look ahead ; I don't know what will come to-morrow.' What I feel inclined to say, however, is that there are spiritual Marthas as well as practical ones. Or if yon like to put it so do you think the Lord never had occasion to say to Mary, ' Thou art careful and troubled about many things ' ? but of course about quite different sorts of things. It would have been extremely unfair surely if Mary had got off quite scot free. She certainly would not have wished it herself, since her thoughts were deep and the depths have their troubles too. So I am face to face with those who have the perplexities of Mary. How shall we reassure her? It is true that some of the greatest work for God has been done by those who burnt them- selves out in a few years. They had been PERPLEXITIES 39 expensively trained. They had taken years to learn a language and were experts in it. Men looked for great things from them in the way of Bible translation ; but it was not to be. The flame burnt itself out. ' What a loss ! ' said some ; ' What a pattern life ! ' said others. Which was right ? I don't know ; no one does. Which shall I choose as my example ? I don't know. It is all of a piece with the perplexities of vocation. Why did the Lord only choose twelve apostles ? or only seventy others ? Why did He leave hundreds as be- lievers just to go back and live their quiet lives, with no call to aggressive evangelisation away from home ? Why did He not tell all rich men to sell all they had ? I ask such questions because one of the best methods of quieting our perplexities is to enlarge our horizon by facing more perplexities. It is the method, of course, of Butler's ' Analogy.' Very soon life becomes so great a mystery that we are glad to say, ' I do not exercise myself in great matters which are too high for me.' We can, however, give answers to some of the actual questions we have put above not to all. No one can say whether you are called to a martyr's early death. It is a great honour, of course, but it may not be for you. Would it be for the greater glory of God ? Possibly ; not 40 VISIONS certainly. It would depend partly whether there was or was not a good deal of self in it. But as regards our work and our strength, we may affirm this : The truest work is done by our personality at its best. It depends upon the tone, the look, the healthy and balanced force of it. But if you are tired and worn and below par it may be a great comfort to yourself, but it is not good for those among whom you live. Salvation means ' healthiness ' in its simplest significance. And how are you going to make others healthy in soul if you are not yourself at your best in body and brain ? The best thing for us at times is to be thinking of some good angel laughing at us, perhaps bringing us that word from the Master : ' Thou art careful and troubled about many things.' Let us try and keep as well as ever we can in body (even if it gives us great annoyance !) in order to do God's work here in the best possible manner. IX PERSONAL AMBITIONS ' Who, then, is greatest in the kingdom of heaven ? ' MATT, xviii. i. WE know the Divine answer : ' Whosoever shall humble himself as this little child.' The whole human race in every generation starts upon this task each soul has to humble itself, to wear 'down self, to kill low ambitions, to realise the Beatitudes, in itself. To succeed is to work a miracle surely, for self is deter- mined to get stronger, not weaker, and often he does. But we have more than a general lesson to learn about humility, for this sin of pride and worldly ambition is one of those which can live, and does live, in the Holy Place. Not all sins can do that. Some beckon us away from the Temple into dark places ; but this one takes us by the arm and walks into the Presence of God unabashed, and for years lives with us there in the guise of virtue, or at 42 VISIONS least not otherwise clad. The ordained servants of God, Church workers, missionaries, all know this ; and the day comes when, in the silence of meditation, or when a brighter light than usual illumines the heart, we start and cry: ' I have been cherishing Satan as a friend in the Temple.' It will help us, I think, if we ask ourselves honestly, ' What is the reward I myself expect ? ' Memories come back to us of well-meaning friends who said : ' Yes, I think you might do well to " enter the Church." It is a pro- fession which has a good many plums. You have good friends, too. I see no reason why you should not through interest get a good living. You might even become a Dean, and then you would have a really fine position, and live in the best of society.' Or even, if you intended to be a missionary, a friend may have commented on your intention : ' Well, England is crowded, and you may get easily lost in a crowd. I really don't see why you shouldn't go abroad for ten years and make a name for yourself. We would try and make you a Colonial Bishop, and then after a time you might at least become a Suffragan at home ; there are worse openings than that of a mission- ary if you play your game well.' Now turn to the band of disciples and the PERSONAL AMBITIONS 43 Lord ' by Whom all things were created.' ' Who is the greatest in the kingdom of Heaven? ' Satan seems to shrink away, and the air feels brighter and clearer. Then ask yourself again : ' What reward do I expect in return for work for God ? Is it really worldly ambition in me still ? Am I living as a matter of fact in the Old Testament, believing that if only I am patient enough I shall be rewarded with wealth and a good position in society and a family that will become wealthy ? Are these the rewards offered to a servant of Jesus Christ ? Are they what the servant really wants or would care for ? ' Wholesome questions indeed ; and, oh, how slowly does self wear down ! Years pass, and still we whisper to ourselves, even in the sanctuary : ' I know that Thou alone art my reward in the end, O Lord ; but, mean- while, may I not have worldly gifts too ? They are very pleasant, and I gaze wistfully at them.' Yes ; self wears down slowly, and He Who took our nature to raise it to the Father, and suffered anguish in the act, knows all. It is not given to many to win this battle without struggle, and many who end very nobly indeed have a sore time extending over years. It is long before many of us can watch without any pang the career of schoolfellows who are now wealthy, and hold high position, 44 VISIONS and have never felt the pinch of monetary cares or worn shabby clothes. But the day does come, be sure of it, when the servant of the Lord, vowed to follow Him, can say : ' My reward is to serve Him, to win His approval, to further His purpose. That is happiness, even though it may be mixed with great suffer- ing.' And the day will surely come, too, when you can honestly say further : ' I no longer want those things at which I once looked wist- fully ; they are not now rewards at all.' Of course we know how alone this can be effected. Not by dwelling on ethical maxims these may convince our heads, but not the heart. It is accomplished by the development of the new affection of the soul of a man or woman for God as known in the Lord Who has bought us for Himself. This expels Satan at last from the Holy Place. Conceit, worldly ambition, are cut down at the root and wither away. We have been speaking of deep things, and even to touch them seems to spoil their bloom. One step too far, and we become presumptuous. The Lord Himself, it is hardly necessary to say, lets us into the secret of victory. He comes and stands and looks and speaks ' Lovest thou Me ? ' ' Yea ; but may I not have a share of the good things my brothers and sisters and PERSONAL AMBITIONS 45 friends are enjoying ? ' He does not speak, but He looks. A few years pass. Again He comes ' Lovest thou Me ? ' ' Yea, Lord ; I do not want very much now.' More years pass years of discipline, of toil, of bereavement and pain. Self has been worn down. It is not our wisdom that has taught us, but His grace so patiently applied. Once more ' Lovest thou Me ? ' 'I know not ; I dare not answer. But this I think I can say I want Thee ; Thou art the only reward for which my soul doth crave.' Is not this the meaning of the new birth slowly realised and developed ? Self dwindles until the man becomes a child, as the Lord has bid us end by being. X MANNERS ' Not looking each of you to his own things, but each of you also to the things of others.' PHIL. ii. 4. IN whatever country of our own empire we travel we are met with a criticism of the Eng- lishman ever recurring, namely, ' No one is so unadaptable as the Englishman ; he is always comparing his own country with the one in which he happens to be, and pointing to the superiority of England.' I wonder whether it has always been so ; whether this was the tone, for example, of the Elizabethan heroes. At any rate, the criticism is common to-day, therefore let us face our fault ourselves with the utmost seriousness, for a most grievous fault it is. St. Paul considers it to be alto- gether outside the temper of a Christian to let self loom so large that our neighbour is hurt. The above reproach is often levelled at clergy from England who are working abroad in " MANNERS 47 English-speaking lands. Is it true of mission- aries in all lands ? What is wrong ? (i) It is the essence of bad manners. A gentleman in meeting a stranger effaces his own personality in order to pay respect to him who stands before him. Reticence about himself clothes him completely. He does not speak of his own achievements or affairs, but draws out his neighbour. Instinctively he talks of what interests the other, does not argue if it can be avoided, tries to see with the eyes of the other and to learn what he knows, would rather bow himself out of the room than pain the other. If he is actually the guest of the other, all that has been said is accentuated, for he could not be self-assertive in the presence of his host. Bat surely an Englishman when in another land, whether it is part of his own empire or of another empire, is a guest in the presence of his host. He cannot be too reticent about himself, or efface his own predilections too com- pletely, or be too eager to learn and to praise too fully if it is consistent with the truth. If honesty leads him to be critical, he would rather turn the conversation or indicate his disagree- ment regretfully, but with such grace that it does not offend. Can there be any doubt that in such a time, whether as a traveller or as a settler, he ought to act just as if he were calling 48 VISIONS at the house of a friend ? If he would accept that position, all trouble would end and our race would no longer be subject to one of the most painful of reproaches. Let us turn the problem round, and force a man to speak in a friend's house as he has often spoken in another land. The host : ' You are welcome here. What do you think of my house ? ' The guest : ' I think your house is not nearly as nice as my own ; that carpet is positively ugly ; this arm- chair is ever so much more uncomfortable than mine ; I wonder you can live in such a hole as this ; come over and see me, and you will realise what infinitely better taste we possess than you can lay claim to.' Is there any real difference between such an attitude and that adopted by many an English- man abroad ? Let us have on one side the mere traveller, who is heard from one end of a Pullman car to the other, stumping up and down and calling attention to ' the disgusting system of the railway. It would not be tolerated in England. Why can they not learn decent ways ? ' The other travellers endure in silence. Ah ! but these people are not good specimens. Perhaps not. Let us turn to our own clergy who have come with a genuine desire to be helpful only in a truly Anglo-Saxon spirit, MANNERS 49 which is at times gall and wormwood to the hosts that is, to the dwellers in that land. These last will ask you pathetically, ' Why do some clergy from England put on such superior airs when they come to work among us ? We all feel by their tone, attitude, and words that they are saying : " These people have never been really taught the Church's system. I must begin with the most elementary teaching and emphasise the simplest facts in the most unmistakable manner. They need milk and even milk-and-water." Why in conversation do they make a point of indicating the superi- ority of England in church architecture, church ornaments, theological learning, great men, Sunday-school systems, train service, garden culture, horse breeding, landscapes, trees, grass, flowers, climate ? Why do they take pains to make it clear beyond possibility of doubt that it is exceedingly good of them to have come out to us benighted people to teach us how great and noble and wise England is and all her ways ? ' There is only one answer to give : ' These excellent men are Anglo-Saxons and carry with them the defects of their race. They are not imaginative or quick to see. They have no notion how abominable their manners are ; they mean so thoroughly well that you must smile 50 VISIONS and be patient. They will do splendid and devoted work, and in a few years they will laugh at their beginnings with you and confess their folly as completely as you could wish it to be done. They will join you in your dismay at the tone and attitude of the next newcomer.' (2) Of course the defect is also a serious one in the Christian character, and it ignores the very conception of the Body of Christ. St. Paul delighted in the differences between one member and another. All were good ; all necessary because so different. You must not think of comparing them invidiously any more than a parent would put one child against another. Imagine the condition into which a family would be brought if parents led their children to be perpetual rivals, triumphing over each other in success in place of deprecating individual success except as a contribution to the family honours. Imagine St. Paul, when questioned in Ephesus about that city, answer- ing : ' You should see Tarsus, and you would not be so elated about your own city. The schools in which I was educated are much better than yours ; you cannot have any idea what noble teachers I had in my home.' His whole attitude was one which made no comparisons ; it was not exclusive but inclusive. His life murmured : ' All the body fitly framed MANNERS 51 and knit together through that which every joint supplieth, according to the measure of each several part, maketh the increase of the body unto the building up of itself in love.' His outlook on the world is expressed for all mis- sionaries in i Cor. xii. He was ever longing to find some better thing than he knew ; some nobler race with fuller gifts which should fill up the gaps in Jew, Greek, Roman. He was eager to praise those to whom he came, to give them first place, for, indeed, the lowest place is the place of honour that he, taught by his Master, would choose. To be a gentleman in delicate courtesy and reticence of self, to take the lowest place habitually by attitude and temper when with others and in other lands ; this it is to be a Christian. Thousands of such are Englishmen and Englishwomen ; let us make it a tradition of the whole race by Divine aid. XI SUCCESSORS OF APOSTLES ' He appointed twelve that they might be with Him.' MARK iii. 14. BUT not only Twelve : they are the patterns for us all. We, too, have been called that we might be with Him ; and thus it is that the Faith of the Gospel differs from all other Faiths as day from night. Teachers there have often been who when they died laid it upon their disciples to follow the teaching. Only One could choose men to be with Him and He with them for ever. ' Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.' ' So shall we ever be with the Lord.' As it is with individuals, so with nations. By constant association with Him through revelation and consequently through the realised power of the Spirit, He raises our life upwards. Nothing so affects the young as the companionship of a noble character, not for a day or a week, but in SUCCESSORS OF APOSTLES 53 the course of years till the noble view of every- thing becomes part of our own life. So with us and our Friend. Day and night those twelve were to be with Him for years ; and nothing less would suffice. It must be day and night with us too till His character imprints itself upon us and determines for us our amuse- ments, our books, friends, home life, and attitude towards all questions and problems. Such companionship of course changes the look on our faces ; and so it comes to pass that ' they took knowledge of them that they had been with Jesus.' Go to the National Gallery ; stand before the central picture, by Raphael ; look at those two men, one on each side of the Divine Child. Why do they look holy men ? The man in the Arab dress is looking up at the Child, and as this is habitual with him the effect is assured. The other, the Bishop, is reading in a book. How is it that the same look is on his face too ? Because the light from the Gospel page has leapt up and fastened on his countenance. He, too, is ' with Him.' But can we trace in the experience of those twelve first chosen not only the pattern for our com- panionship, but the pattern also of our own lives ? Surely, to a large extent. Recognise the slow growth of their character, their ignorance, misunderstandings, selfish ambitions, 54 VISIONS cowardice. We have all preserved an apostolic succession in this, but Jesus Christ also is the same to-day as He was yesterday, and we hold on our way. They were often perplexed too. Then they went straightway to Him and pleaded for the answer from Him. I wish we who are with Him to-day would keep up the succession in this also. We hear of disciples of to-day who, when they hear of their Christ just such things as the Pharisees at times used to say, do not go to the Divine Companion, but to the man in the street, inquiring of him whether such insinuations are true. It makes us doubt whether they have ever really been companions. It is as if, when some one made damaging reflections upon your father, you did not go at once to him but to the shop where you deal, or to the editor of your newspaper, for information. The other companions look on amazed. But does the Divine Companion always clear away our perplexities ? By no means. His most helpful answers are often those which tell us to mind our own proper business. ' Are there few that be saved ? ' ' Strive to enter in at the strait gate.' It is one of the marks of the disciples of Christ still, that whilst much has been revealed they are content not to know the rest. The mystery and persistence of pain, of evil and sorrow, we cannot banish them here : beware SUCCESSORS OF APOSTLES 55 of those who profess to do so ; the disciples of Jesus saw Him weep and groan in spirit, and bear pain, and sweat drops of blood ; they will continue to see Him do so in those whom He came to redeem ; and they have learnt that ' to be with Him ' without knowing, walking in darkness, is the discipline that is best. Some may pray thrice to escape suffering or to com- prehend ; but the answer may be as it often has been, ' My grace is sufficient for thee ' to walk with Me without the boon thou cravest. Is there, however, another point in the record of our companionship with Him ? It comes to me as a sign of the surpassing tenderness of the Divine Comrade in His dealings with us, that He chose to go and meet Satan face to face before He chose the first of our band ' to be with Him.' There are some things we cannot face, and so He faces them by Himself for us till we are fashioned more like unto Him. If what I suggest is not mere fancy, then we can see how among the many blots in the ' Pilgrim's Progress/ great as the book is, one of them is that the poor pilgrim met Satan himself, but never met the Lord till his journey was over. It is surely just the reverse. The Divine Choice is that we should be ' with Him ' ; but just as we may not understand the origin of evil, so He Whose tender mercies fail not 56 VISIONS fights some battles for us when solitary, 'and beckons us to come and be His disciples after He had been in some encounters on His mys- terious path. Why so ? Because there are some realities which, were we to come too near them in our present condition, would lead to insanity. But do not the burdens on the disciple get heavier as life goes on ? Certainly ; but more complete also becomes the com- panionship. So as the years pass let duties come, greater, more imperious. We care not so long as those years are spent by His side ; His Choice will hold ; our choice is to be His. And how much we learn. Comrades, let us keep close to Him. XII CARES ' Your care . . . He careth.' i PET. v. 7. GEORGE MACDONALD has dwelt with profit on the meaning of man's shadow in ' Phantastes . ' I do not propose to follow his line of thought, but I am impelled to turn to one of our companions who seems to be as inseparable from us as our shadow Care. But Care is not only our shadow, for nothing leaps so quickly up to our faces and lives there. Note that it is a word with delicate distinctions according as it is used. At one moment it seems a dreadful thing to be without it, to be ' careless.' But again it is one of the soul-destroying things, and heads the list of evils, for the Blessed Master says that the thorns which choke the Word are ' cares and riches and pleasures of this life.' If these are three classes, Care makes the first class. On another occasion He couples it with surfeiting and drunkenness 58 VISIONS (Luke xxi.), warning us to beware of cares of this life as well as of those two vices. In the Sermon on the Mount He speaks six tunes of it as a weight about which He is anxious, and so St. Peter calls on us to cast all our care upon Him, for ' He careth.' Do not let anyone suppose, however, that the word used is the same in the case of our care and His caring. They are quite different. What is our own experience, not of those who do not pray, but of those who try to do so, of missionaries and God's professed workers ? It is so mixed a feeling, pathetically mixed. We have often said, ' I could not have done without my cares, for they have forced me to my Master, and I doubt whether anything else would.' And again, we have watched the corroding effect of it upon one who waxed impatient under it, then rebellious, then blasphemed. Yet, also, it has made faces beautiful more than anything else. Sometimes, too, Care takes the form of some of the most holy of burdens a mother's care for her child, an apostle's care for the Church St. Paul put this care down as the most constant weight. Is it possible that such Care may be the thorn that chokes the Word ? Without doubt, if it does not force us on to the Lord. Service for the Lord when heavy has been known to destroy faith in Him ; CARES 59 but this is one of the mysteries hidden from us, and somewhere there is a loving Justice which understands human frailty perfectly. Our own experience will tell us one fact which has often made us mourn, namely, that there is no cause of wandering thoughts in prayer more common than the presence of what we may call holy cares. The priest, the worker im- mersed in his difficulties, kneels, and the minutes pass : then he discovers that in place of speaking to God about them he has only been turning over and over the old perplexity, puzzling over it on his knees. It is not prayer and we are ashamed, but the Lord is merciful. What we have to remember as a simple remedy is that we must not trust at such times to unspoken prayers or a buried face, but to petitions put into actual words and face upturned. The commonest result of Care, of course, is that it takes the colour out of life, giving it a drab tint, its music ever in a minor key. Care and Joy are two maidens and sisters ; one ought not to banish the other. Joy, the elder, ought not to be turned out of your house by the younger sister ; for the more Care asserts herself the more beautiful ought to grow the countenance of Joy. Dr. Spurgeon put one of our mistakes so well in illustration I quote from memory : ' Many 6o VISIONS of us are like a man tramping along a dusty road in the heat of the day with a very heavy knapsack. A friend passes him in a gig with a fast horse, and seeing his condition begs per- mission to give him a lift to his journey's end. The traveller, in place of refusing, gladly steps up and takes his seat beside the driver. After a minute the owner of the gig looks at his companion and says, " Do take that knapsack off your back and put it under your feet, you will then be a great deal more comfortable." " Oh no ! " exclaims the traveller, " please don't trouble. It is such a blessing to be in your gig. I really must not take the load off my back too ; that would be altogether too much."' An excellent illustration. How many of us give ourselves to God, but only with our cares firmly strapped upon our backs and not to be taken off and laid upon Him ; so Joy shrinks away, the shadow we make grows darker although our steps are in the narrow way : we hear a voice saying, ' O ye of little faith. ' There is another fact about Care which is wonderful. When she touches us with one hand we are miserable : when she gives us both hands we revive ; but how strange do you mean that double Care is a lighter weight than half of it ? Yes, that is almost a universal experience, just as a severe pain may be better than a night CARES 61 with mosquitoes. The half does not drive us on to God, it does not seem worth while : with downcast looks, with sister Joy fled away, we pass the days, a burden to ourselves and our converts and fellow-workers. But when the whole touches us, upward turns the face, we go into the sanctuary of God, Joy returns and our strength is doubled. That is why the cripple, the bedridden, the incurable are so happy. It is good to remember that One Who bore our human nature up to the Father knows so much about all the cares of humanity that these feeble attempts to put down our own experience are as the prattle of children. It is good to know that He Himself spoke of care so often, and warned us how great an evil it might become, as well as how noble an angel it is for men's support, how harmful, how helpful. Some day, perhaps, another Watts will give us a picture of Christ's disciple followed by Care and Joy and the intertwined effects of the two angels. 'Your care . . . He careth.' The voice is the same, but the words are different. One is ours ; the answer is, as it were, from above All is well. XIII WONDER ' Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.' MATT, xviii. 4. THE Sacred Child ' increased in wisdom.' We do not care to discuss what is too great for us, the growth of the Only Begotten in human form and mind. Let us, however, fasten on one word here growth. Years ago Archbishop Temple said to a friend : ' The difference between one man and another is in growth one grows, the other doesn't.' How true ! And how perplexing is the check in some people All of a sudden they stop growing. All of a sudden you miss what was so congenial in him or her ; you have come to a parting of the ways. You want to press on, he wishes to halt. What is it ? He has stopped growing and he will be of no more use in the best things ; no longer as a counsellor, for hope is gone, vision WONDER 63 ceases, judgment is warped, and he is no longer fair. Sometimes this begins to happen when a man is put into a new position for which he is not really fit, although no one could tell that beforehand. Sometimes it happens when there is no reason at all to give, and to his friends it is a bolt from the blue. Of course, the most frequent cause is old age. We have done our work, and in future we note all the difficulties and objections and none of the advantages. So Professor Huxley used to say : ' I pray I may not live to become an obstructive.' Yet there is a real place for the obstructive, but not the highest place. A man may become the old shoe on the wheel that is used as a brake when once he was the horse in the shafts. I think the secret of the check is concealed in the words of the Lord above. We have ceased to humble ourselves as a little child. Ought we to possess the child's heart, then, to the very end ? I am sure of it certainly for all Mission workers. The first quality to leave us, only we must not permit it to go, is wonder, the child's great gift. He that still wonders has not ceased to grow ; he has not ceased to be humble ; he has not ceased to look up and desire to learn ; he expects to gain new light, and also there is joy in the anticipation. Is it not the sign of growth included in wonder which is the 64 VISIONS deep truth in that reported saying of our Lord, one of those not found in the Gospels, ' He that wonders shall reign. . . . Look with wonder at that which is before you ' ? The gift of wonder is, then, the essential attribute of a disciple, that noble definition of a Christian. The little child does not profess to understand or criticise events, but runs to his father or mother, and asks what it means, wondering. The oldest disciple can do no more. It seems so simple a rule till we apply it? (i) The day brings you a pain, a calamity, a bereavement, a disappoint- ment. Perhaps I know what we are all inclined to do ; but he who wonders turns to the Master to ask what it means, and listens long for the voice. If he is kept waiting it is only because it is something very wonderful, and there is much to learn that is new. (2) You find yourself in a position which has its worries : there is not scope enough for your talents ; others have a larger sphere ; you yourself had a larger one once ; you have a disagreeable and trying chief or incompetent workers ; you deserve better treatment. But where all the while is child-humility and wonder ? Who put you where you are ? The devil ? Yourself unaided ? God Almighty ? Happy he who wonders and finds it all so interesting. It is one of the Lord's own puzzles ending with such a WONDER 65 delightful solution, and it is probably the best discipline you ever had and the door to a higher room ; there is nothing really to do but eagerly to expect the answer of Him who posted you just there. (3) The absence of wonder is nowhere more plain than when we begin to groan over the present times and praise the old. We have stopped growing, and it is pathetic to note that ever since the days of Adam the voices of some of the middle- aged and of the old say, ' The young men and women are not what they used to be ' ; ' There is so much more irreligion now than when I was young ' ; ' Everything seems to be going to ruin the Church, the State, the Parliament, the country, the town.' You see you are merely criticising you are not wondering ; you are not humble, nor are you listening for a new lesson. You have stopped growing, and the best is behind, not in front ; and yet you are a Christian ! Return and be a child again wonder. Of course it is difficult when the mind gets stiff as well as the body. But just as, if we are wise, we keep the body supple by appropriate exercises after we have ceased to be able to run or jump, so we can exercise the spirit and keep it young. Of course life is larger now than of old, and the world is smaller and the corporate life grows. The river of life as it 7 66 VISIONS descends into the plains is fed by countless fresh rills, with all the old streams of course, but with many others which bring with them the colour of new soils. Though the appearance of the river is very unlike what it used to be when you were young, yet the stream is deeper ; it can carry ever so much more on its bosom and be put to far more use if we are full of wonder enough and rejoice in the largeness of the conception, greater evil possibly, a vastly greater good certainly. Do not, therefore, look scornfully at these strange experiences, for they all add something to a new fertility ; don't shake your head and criticise. Wonder ' What does it all mean ? ' ' What new thing is God Almighty going to bring out of these perplexing forces so difficult to take into account ? ' And then what rest it brings ! So at least that apocryphal saying declares, ' He that wonders shall reign, and he that reigns shall rest.' The future is with those who keep their hearts young and humble as a little child, who are always prepared to learn and look with intense interest at each new development, whether in their own life or in their country or their Mission. Workers of the Lord, keep young ! XIV THE NEW NAME ' My own new name.' REV. iii. 12. ' I will give him a white stone, and upon the stone a new name written, which no one knoweth but he that receiveth it.' REV. ii. 17. THERE are two words in Greek for ' new.' One, neos, is ' new ' just in time, a repetition, for example, of a day much the same as yesterday. The other, kainos, is ' new ' in quality, unlike the past a new experience, greater, nobler. Needless to say, in both our texts it is this last word which is used. Indeed, for the disciple of the Lord there is ever a thrill in facing the future, that future won for us by the Lord ; the dawn is there ; life in Christ is there no longer shadowed by sin within. Therefore, the Church of Christ possesses eternal youth ; its unknown future is in the hands of God, and perfect love casts out fear. Kainos, kainos : the word is repeated again and again in these 68 VISIONS chapters the name, the song, the heavens and the earth what does it all mean ? This is a message to the individual soul ; it is not the only message, for we are parts of a Body ; but yet we are individuals, and He Who redeemed us has a word for each as well as for the Church, for each worker in whatever land without doubt. Let it be the hour, then, in which we leave the exhausting, disappointing work which wears us out, what St. Paul calls kopos, which tells of laborious toil, of mental and spiritual fatigue. Leave it awhile and enter into silence, and, if possible, solitude. The last may not be possible ; the first is, for the soul. It is like opening the fairy door which admits you into a world where peace reigns. There is a Presence there ; we know Whose. So the wrinkles unfold themselves, the strain dies down. Thoughts press on the brain new thoughts, visions of all the best we have ever dreamt, and all centred on One. ' My own new name' I have known Him under many names, all with a message to me. Each I have pressed and found it full of what I needed in His service. Saviour, Master, Lord, Shep- herd, Door, Vine, Lamb of God, Physician, the Way, the Truth, the Life, and many others. Is there a new name ? Each of the above is new to me each month I live. Perhaps it is THE NEW NAME 69 because I have more capacity in myself from experience, or perhaps the dawn is breaking and I am able to see clearer. It is as though each name I know has endless youth and expands with my needs and hopes. I have but to open the door, and enter what to me is the garden where the Lord ever walks, to learn something I did not perceive before. But a new name ? It remains an awful anticipation, and if power of thought is left me in the last earthly moments, perhaps I may say, ' I am about to learn the new name.' Yet there is something awful about that name. At present what I feel on my forehead is the Cross marked there The day dawns when for me may come true His promise : ' I will write upon him My new name.' Deep it must sink through bone and flesh (whatever that means then) into brain and life ; that and the Cross. What can it mean ? Who may dare to endure such joy ? Were any sin left it would be anguish ; He says there will be none. But if that name is to be burnt in on brain and heart and life, then I think I see the meaning of other words, ' which no one knoweth but he that receiveth it.' He had a secret with all, but it is individual with each. That life speaks to each life in a tongue understanded 70 VISIONS only by it just in that way. Many forms are visible in the garden, but I forget them when He approaches and whispers in mine ear ; but not to me alone. To every race in every con- tinent, to every individual in every race, to every man and every woman, there is ' the secret of the Lord,' and so manifold that no one knoweth your form of it except yourself. No earthly thing can take away the joy of such communion, and daily in the hour of silence we can fall back on it. His people live an inner life of eternal youth and growth which makes fervour grow with age, in which faith cannot be quenched and hope grows brighter and love abides. Yet it is no selfish absorption ; for when the hour is past, in the room or church or on the hillside or on the deck, we say : ' But this secret is ready for every man, and the awful love of the Father impels me forth to tell of it to my neighbour.' Does he see the Cross on my forehead ? He ought to, but I fear he does not. But if I can help to place the Cross on his forehead some day he will begin to under- stand for himself ; he will know the secret in his own way and live his own life with God in Christ, and into that shrine no man entereth ; there is only room for two there for the man, and his Maker and Saviour. But the hour is past ; with a sigh I turn to THE NEW NAME 71 the door to pass out, back to kopos. Must I leave Thee ? Nay. He answers : ' Lo, I am with you alway,' only now He seems to be behind me, watching all I do and say ; above all, the manner and spirit in which I act and speak. In the strength of such meat I will go my forty days. XV PRAISE ' Unto Him that loveth us . . .' REV. i. 5, 6. WHAT is the highest effort of praise ? Un- spoken rapture, thankfulness, and gratitude. But what of that which has been put into language ? ' All that is within me praise His holy name ' that satisfies. In the ' Imitation ' I have generally chosen, ' If it be Thy will that I should be in darkness, be Thou blessed : and if it be Thy will that I should be in light, be Thou again blessed. If Thou vouchsafe to com- fort me, be Thou blessed : and if Thou wilt have me afflicted, be Thou blessed also.' We wish that St. Paul could have written down his praise after he had been rapt into the seventh heaven, for we know of what he was capable when the intellect made way for the heart to speak. ' Oh ! the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and the knowledge of God : how un- PRAISE 73 searchable are His judgments and His ways past tracing out. . . . For of Him, and through Him, and unto Him are all things. To Him be the glory for ever. Amen.' Or, for an Easter meditation to express our gratitude, read Eph. i. ; try and feel every word in such phrases as ' to the praise of the glory of His grace/ ' that ye may know what is the hope of His calling, what the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints . . . according to that working of the strength of His might which He wrought in Christ . . . far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and every name that is named, not only in this world, but also in that which is to come.' Better still, before selecting such passages write down your own gratitude and praise honestly as you feel it. Then compare it with what the great Christians have felt. You may never have felt rapture. Well, it is as well to realise that fact, and to know that as there are depths of penitence you have not touched, so there are heights of praise to be forced from the heart, when you understand what the Gospel is. But when you need the highest note of rapture ever struck on earth you will turn to the Apocalypse. We wish we had St. Paul's vision of the unspeakable ; let us thank God we have the vision of St. John. How it makes 74 VISIONS us understand ' the fervour of the aged,' the heat of the only fire that burns hotter within us as the body fades. Probably human lan- guage will never attain a greater height of praise ; and you will note that Bishop Andrewes closes most of his praises with the words of the Apocalypse. What, not with the Psalms ? No ; in the Psalms we have, on the whole, the greatest height to be reached by man before God had been revealed in Christ. But in the language of the man who could say ' that which we have heard, that which we have seen with our eyes, that which we beheld, and our hands handled, concerning the Word of life ' there is a note more deep, more tender than aught even in the Old Testament ; the note of friendship, personal, living, perpetual, the echo in it of the Birth, Life, Passion, Resurrection, and Ascension of the ever-present Lord and Saviour. Can the mind of man wish for anything deeper than the vision of praise in Rev. iv. and v., and the scene as depicted in the dream ? Nothing more is needed than to give the words in their order ; the heart needs no comment : (iv. 8) First, creation as apart from man speaks : ' Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God, the Almighty, which was and which is and which is to come.' It is something like the Old Testament voice before the revelation of Redemption. But PRAISE 75 hardly has creation spoken when redeemed humanity joins in the praise (vv. 10, n) : ' Worthy art Thou, our Lord and our God, to receive the glory and the honour and the power.' Then pass to chapter v., and take in order the three songs of praise in ascending force : (i) Redeemed humanity ; (2) the angels ; (3) all creation, (i) ' Worthy art Thou to take the book, and to open the seals thereof : for Thou wast slain, and didst purchase unto God with Thy blood men of every tribe, and tongue, and people, and nation, and madest them to be unto our God a kingdom and priests.' (2) ' Worthy is the Lamb that hath been slain to receive the power, and riches, and wisdom, and might, and honour, and glory, and blessing.' (3) ' Unto Him that sitteth on the throne, and unto the Lamb, be the blessing, and the honour, and the glory, and the dominion, for ever and ever.' Music has done more for us in the thunder of great choruses than any word-commentary. Yet I think I may put a chorus in spring-time, when in the northern hemisphere our Eastertide comes to us, in worthy comparison with Handel. It is when the wind of dawn wakes the birds ere it is quite light, and with a crash their song rises up, the song of creation praising God. For many it is not time to rise, but it would be well if half in sleep we murmured, in answer 76 VISIONS to the birds or in company with them, ' Worthy is the Lamb that hath been slain to receive the power, and riches, and wisdom, and might, and honour, and glory, and blessing.' Or it may be the song from chapter i., ' Unto Him that loveth us and loosed us from our sins by His blood ; and He made us to be a kingdom, to be priests unto His God and Father : to Him be the glory and the dominion for ever and ever. Amen.' To our brothers in the southern hemisphere we send a note of regret that it is not at Eastertide that the birds wake them to praise. Yet their place in the chorus is plain, for when ' calm decay ' holds us in autumn, then they are led by the chorus of the birds to rapture for the Great Tidings. So we go to the altar of the Lord on Easter morn, and we fain would murmur, ' It is too good to be true,' ' too good to be true.' XVI WAITING ' The earnest expectation of the creation waiteth . . . We ourselves groaning within ourselves, wait- ing . . .' ROM. viii. 19, 23. THE sentences are not finished, for I pause at the ' waiting,' the attitude of the soldiers of Hope. You see, creation and mankind both are waiting, and there is no waiting like that of the Christian, for there is no hope such as his. From the empty tomb of Jesus Hope sprang forth and spread her wings, never to be caught by the spirits of evil, but ready to dwell in every heart. St. Paul tells us in another place that hope abides, but he never could have said it but for the empty tomb, the resurrection tidings which the risen Master Himself came to tell him. So our waiting is not a thing that makes the heart sick, for as children we look for the Lord's own time of final triumph and make no calcula- tions of our own. Meanwhile, of course, we carry the ' living hope ' round the world, not 78 VISIONS as a mere phrase or tendency or idea, but as a fact, and no argument but a fact will satisfy humanity that, however, will. So we pass from shore to shore, announcing : ' Know you that Christ lives, having risen from the tomb ? He is here for you. This is the pearl you have been seeking ; take it in your hand and feel it ; it is quite substantial, a fact ; keep it, for it is yours.' Holding this firmly, for what, then, are we waiting ? The answer displays how far the curtains of the future have been flung back, how immense is the Christian's horizon. We wait for the complete capture of mankind by Christ, not by any external compulsion, but by entering the innermost citadel of every man's life, his heart and will, the hardest of all achieve- ments ; the changing of the once strongest motive to one yet stronger of self to God, the creation of a new nature, of a holy character, a new atmosphere and ideal. Now glance at the first of the two texts above ; he must be dull of imagination who does not thrill at the thought of St. Paul as he tells us that all creation is eagerly waiting for ' the manifesta- tion of the sons of God.' Is it that their redemption is dependent upon the capture of man ? and what does the redemption of creation mean ? What change would pass over the WAITING 79 hills and streams and woods when the Lord's work is realised ? No man can tell ; these hopes are even ' unprayable,' because we do not know for what we should pray. But, servant of the Lord, wherever you labour, in your journeys and solitude and among crowds of the hostile or the indifferent, look round. Are the hills looking down upon you ? Does the river murmur in your ear or the trees rustle or the flowers look ? Take St. Paul's words for what they mean, and it is a strong word he uses for ' expectation.' It means that creation raises its head and gazes eagerly, intently for something : ' waiting.' Is it the footfall of the Lord for which they listen ? Is it the course of the Lord's human servants they trace whilst they themselves are in a sense dumb and chained to one spot ? Are they grieving be- cause they do not see the Lord more clearly enthroned in so many hearts ? All nature is on the watch, says the Apostle, to see you victorious, and all nature groans ; but ' it is like the pangs of a woman in childbirth : where there is travail there must needs also be a birth. The waiting is in hope. One step further we are led by the Apostle, although we are at once out of our depth and can only put our hands to our mouths and silently ponder. He speaks of the intercession, 8o VISIONS and therefore of the hope, of God Himself. We are but using human language, yet there it is written that ' the Spirit maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.' The yearning of God for man and for creation ; yes, it is worth waiting for such a future as this discloses when the end comes. ' Which cannot be uttered.' Does it mean that no human language can speak it and no human ear can hear it ? We are told that the compass of sound for the human ear is a very small one indeed. Millions of sounds are unheard by us ; many animals have a far acuter hearing for sounds we cannot catch too high in key, too low in volume, for our duller apprehension. Is it not also true that there are other sounds too deep and loud for human ears ? The voice of God we are deaf to it ; the groanings of the Spirit we are unconscious of them ; the voice of Jesus creation may hear it, but to us it is matter for faith. Wonderful thought if true ! All round us there may be rolling the thunder of the voice of God surpassing the noise of many waters ; tones too tender, judgments too awful, counsels too wonderful. One thing at least we may do, immersed in such awful mysteries : we can wait in hope, wait together with creation, wait and look and long and pray, soldiers of the Christian Hope. XVII USELESS PILLARS ' He that overcometh I will make him a pillar in the temple of my God.' REV. iii. 12. LOOK round the temple with its clustered pillars ; the great shafts are there, of all kinds, of costly or of common material. They re- present all the disciples and servants ; but we are concerned only with the Mission workers now, and there they stand pillars. But what are they worth ? No judgment must be so severe upon ourselves as our own, and we will not spare ourselves. Again we ask, What are the pillars really worth ? (i) They all rest on the one foundation Christ, One with the Father ; and the words rise up before us : ' Our God is a consuming fire.' Can this be the meaning of St. Paul when he speaks of the work a man does as being all burnt up if it is wood, hay, stubble ? Is it because the foundation is one consuming fire scorching all that rests upon 82 VISIONS it, passing ever up through all the superstruc- ture ? If so, then the false pillar can exist only in imagination ; nothing can live except the truth if resting on the fire of God as foundation, the fire so inexorable because it is Love. We must bow before the facts. Nought have we to say for ourselves, but we murmur, ' Yet Thou hast said : "I dwell with him that is of a contrite and humble spirit." ' (2) Now let us ourselves apply another test to the pillars, not from beneath, but from above. We must not flinch. From the floor of the temple we rise upwards till we stand above the pillars. Look, they are not painted straw or wood, but of solid stone. But yet, look again. That pillar is a foot too short ; that one two inches ; there is one lacking half an inch. Are they no support to the roof ? None. What, if only half an inch be lacking ? Yes. What, all that labour of building of no avail ? A hundred feet of marble wasted so far as the burden of the roof is in question ? Yes. The lesson is a familiar one, but to none more precious than to the Lord's workers. The boating man knows that the race was once lost because one man in the crew could not get into perfect time ; the loss was only an inch at each stroke, but defeat was certain. A statesman almost ended a glorious life full of good work, USELESS PILLARS . 83 but at the last his courage, his principle, failed. Oh, that half-inch ! So he was not numbered among the mighty. The Lord's own ordained and consecrated workers ; look at them. So many do respectably ; they reach the average, but no miracle is worked ; they bear none of the real burden of the Church. Oh, that half- inch ! One is quietly worldly, thinks much of preferment in the middle of his work. A second lives to a very slight degree a double life ; hard at work for almost all the day, his imagination leads him into unworthy paths when he is released, and the half -inch more is not there. But tell me, you who gaze at those pillars from above, Is the difference co-extensive with the division between poor men and rich men, between those who are famous and those unknown ? In no sense. This is a question of reality, of the bare and naked truth as in God's sight. Some of the very wealthy bear a large share of the weight of the roof. The pillar is not short ; you know that they are guiltless of ambition, have never craved for anything, have been pushed forward against their will, would gladly resign all for Christ's sake. Some of the poor, on the other hand, nurse their poverty as discontent, are not whole-hearted. Oh, the half -inch ! Surely it is part of the infinite pathos of life that so much good work 84 VISIONS can be done and yet the very best for Christ's sake be missed. Are they personally saved ? I hope so ; I believe so ; saved ' yet so as by fire ' ; saved as a merchant is saved who is floated ashore, naked, with all his fortune gone. I suppose we may thus partly understand those stern words of the loving Master to those who said they had preached in His name and in His name done many wonderful works. He answered : ' I never knew you.' Perhaps it means : You never bore any real weight ; the pillar lacks half an inch. It is thus we judge ourselves, workers of the Lord. We are far from boasting. One and all we pray : ' O God, give me the two feet or the half-inch. I discern how great the loss to Thy Church otherwise. It is not my own salvation, but Thy cause which weighs upon me ; so much so nearly done for Thee yet not done. Thy burden so nearly borne yet not borne, because of the dual life or lack of the deep note or keeping back part of the price. Complete the pillar, O Lord, for Thy work's sake, for Thy Church, for its good name and stability and work all through the years till Thou comest again.' XVIII UNDER-ROWERS ' Ministers of Christ.' i COR. iv. i. You would not easily guess the picture that these words conjure up. I see an expanse of sea : on its surface rides a great war- vessel with its tiers and tiers of oars one above the other, the decks crowded with rowers keeping time as the war-galley forges ahead. The Greek word here for ' ministers ' means the ' under-rowers/ and above them upon deck stands their Captain by the helmsman. They are the ' under-rowers of Christ.' Watch that Roman war-vessel, for it is a splendid lesson for us to-day. (i) It is a war-ship : there are no passengers, no idlers. Each has a definite duty, and there is no more inspiring fact for us than that. Think of it when you worship in the ' nave ' of the church the ' navis,' the main body of the church, is like a war-ship with its crew ; all the men, women, and children are on duty 86 VISIONS for life, for we are perpetually at war for God. I do not know whether you will be surprised, but it is a fact that I never read the great military text-books on strategy without feeling that they are crammed with lessons for the Church militant ' Stonewall Jackson's Life,' articles on preparation for war, on the Staff duties, advances through a mountainous region, naval mobilisation and concentration these are all Church questions with slightly altered language. (2) Look again. Those rowers are crowded together : perfect discipline must exist to pre- serve them from being a mere rabble : no one can be selfish, the voices must be under the breath, there is no privacy the effect of a holy and manly life permeates the ship, as does the evil example. There is no more unselfish sport than that of rowing ; none so unselfish as the ideal life of a regiment or of a crew, for the individual is merged in the welfare of the body. (3) But there is something very special to be said about the crew of the English Church war-ship. There is no other Church like it. Eastern, Latin these are more or less for men of the same temperament : not so with our people. There are here two distinct and different temperaments the men of prose and UNDER-ROWERS 87 the men of poetry, and they will remain what they are, both indispensable because each in turn is needed to fend off some attack or to make some advance which the other could not effect. So unique is this crew of ours in con- sequence that to-day we may well name the ship of our English Church the Dreadnought. Let us go into details. The man of prose. We know his worth, and that some of the noblest achievements for God are his, with his practical, shrewd sense, unmoved in days of excitement. But he loves prose. He does not see fairies among the flowers. Processions, pomp, uni- forms make him laugh. Probably no outward helps mean much to him, not even the most sacred. Of course he baptises his child, but to him it is not much more than an ancient and most interesting ceremony commanded by the Lord, and therefore to be performed. He does not see much practical good in it. Now watch his opposite, the man of poetry, equally indispensable. During the service he sees as plainly as possible an angel come down and trouble the water, and after that something comes to the child that it had not before, and he bows his head in awe and gratitude. Then the other Sacrament. Watch that fine, sensible fellow, lover of prose : he loves to eat bread and drink wine and think of the Lord in heaven : 88 VISIONS it is not much more than that, but it comforts him, and he values the service quite as much, if not more, than Mattins or Evensong. It will be the same all his life. Now watch another, him of poetry. The one fact absolutely real to him is the actual Presence of the Lord. It takes more than one form. I give the form it takes for me. I re-enact the old scene. The Lord Himself stands before me, not the priest. It is His voice I hear. He says : ' This is My Body,' ' This is My Blood.' Were I not a reticent Anglo-Saxon, I should lie prostrate on my face. I am not at all surprised that some do it. It is not necessary to go further into detail. Enough has been said to show that ours is an unique crew in an unique ship : we can under- stand the East and the West better than any, for we have both in us, the most sober and the most mystic. The very thought of banishing either in the face of the perils of the future, and of the diversities of work to be done by the Catholic Church in the world, is unthinkable. You may sometimes laugh at your neighbour because you cannot understand him, but you must love him as an indispensable member of the crew, and let him know it. Of course I only mark tendencies. Most Church people will occupy a middle place, whilst I mark the two sides strongly. Clearly, too, UNDER-ROWERS 89 it is not the same division at all as that of the parties in the Church. It is a question of temperament. (4) From what quarter come the greatest dangers to the war-ship ? Not from ahead, but from astern. Dread the heavy following gale. The Captain then cries to the rowers : ' Pull your hardest, sleep not, keep perfect time, or else we shall be pooped.' That lesson is easy to discern. (5) On every war-galley of old there was kept one anchor larger than the rest. It was called ' the sacred anchor/ ' the last hope.' What does that anchor mean to the crew ? Doubtless different meanings could be given. I will give you one which all of every tempera- ment will accept. When all else fails we fall back without argument, without vision, without resource, upon our passionate personal devotion for and trust in the Great Captain, the Only Begotten Son, Who reveals the Father, Who knows all about our temperaments since He took all humanity on Himself, Who was born for us, and died and rose again and lives for us, and watches and counsels us, and is never absent, and is going to conquer the world through us. Blessed, thrice blessed, be His name : we are His under-rowers : naught do we fear, naught can move us. XIX PERFUMES GOOD AND BAD ' We are unto God a sweet savour of Christ.' 2 COR. ii. 15. IT is a wonderful picture the Apostle draws. We are always at war, he says, and the result is always the same, for the campaign ends with the triumphal pageant in every case, and God leads us, His soldiers, up to the Capitol ; and while the long procession winds up the hill clouds of incense disperse their fumes among the spectators, and the scent hangs in the streets, and the people connect the perfume with the triumph. Such is the picture ; but the startling thing consists in the fact that he calls the soldiers the incense telling of Christ : they are actually the sweet savour of the Lord Himself, the scent remaining behind to remind the world of the Son of God. Just think of it. The Lord's people act on the world as the smell of incense ; their presence and example is an aroma which PERFUMES 91 says, ' Jesus of Nazareth passeth by.' We all say, ' Yes, it ought to be so with me, but it is not ; but it has been so with many to whom I have owed the best in me.' What was it in their lives which may be called the Christian aroma ? It was the delicate effect which told. They did not scold, or ' nag,' or lecture ; they just stole into our lives as does the scent of violets in a country lane invisible themselves, we felt them. So it has been with the clergy that have most helped us. Some could preach, some could not ; but that made no difference. They affected us like delicate perfume. When they officiated it was the personality that told. There was no personal pronoun visible ; they had no personal ambition except to give all for His sake. In the church their reverence was so great ; the prayers said by them brought peace ; they never gabbled the prayers or spoke the Holy Name like a common word. They did not stare at the people ; every attitude was reverent, and made us worship, and every word betokened humble seriousness. The result was that we ' got good.' Was it the sermon, or the music, or the prayers ? We do not know ; there was a perfume in it all, ' the sweet savour of Christ.' So it was with the men who were not clergy to whom we owe most, and it was the same with the women. Do you remember 92 VISIONS anything didactic about them ? Did they often improve the occasion when you were young, or worry you with the sort of questions which you knew all about, the answers to which you could give beforehand ? No ; you hardly remember such a thing in them. It was easy to be good when you were with them, and hard to be bad. Your better and very shy self peeped out at once when they came, and you would even lift the corner of the curtain of your soul and speak of the deep things to them. Of course, that was just the effect produced by the Lord Him- self ; perfect naturalness, perfect goodness drew all men to Him. I think one of the most wonderful facts of His blessed life must have been the things He did not say. What need when the sweet savour of Himself penetrated all the place like scent ? Virtue went out of Him. Of course the humble-hearted will never realise this, for they are always reproach- ing themselves. But it is a glorious fact that to-day thousands of workers, men and women, at home and abroad, are shedding incense-perfume as they ascend the hill in the triumphal pageant up to the Capitol. They pass, but the memory and blessing remain behind. It is not only they who have passed, but Jesus Himself. How we wish we could ever hope to produce such effects ! PERFUMES 93 And now there is just something to be said which makes us shiver, but it is well to face it. The worst smell is not what we call a bad smell. No ; a bad scent is worse. The thing which is meant for perfume and is not, because it is vulgar, or imitative merely, or cheap that is the worse smell. And so it is with the Christian who leads a double life, or exhibits low ambition, or is hard and intolerant and coarse, or self- indulgent, or pretentious he affects the man of the world disastrously ; he would infinitely rather do with a bad man. I suppose salt that has lost its savour must smell badly, and to think that anyone should suppose it was the savour of Christ ! We shudder. But I do not think we ought to be daunted. Intense humility saves us, just as constant communion with God does ; a longing to be natural, to take the lowest place, to be ready to help this ought to keep us from shedding a bad savour. Yet it will always seem an overwhelming thought that the aroma of the life of any human being could be the aroma of Christ's own life. Blessed be they who attain ! Let us press on in the mission-field of the world, at home or abroad, in society and in the household ; let us strive to be among those whose effect is to make the world realise that God is passing by. XX THE LORD'S MIRROR ' We all, with unveiled face reflecting as a mirror the glory of the Lord, are transformed into the same image from glory to glory.' 2 COR. iii. 18. No one is so bold in speech where truth is concerned as the humble man of God. For example, the Apostle who made the astounding claim asserted in the above words was he who also wrote to the same people : ' Last of all He was seen of me also, as of one born out of due time, that am not meet to be called an Apostle.' ' I was with you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling.' And to the Romans : ' O wretched man that I am ! ' As with words, so with deeds. Commend me to God's worker who on a steamer or a train is the most retiring of men, who never fights for food or for good places, nor is his voice heard in complaint or assertion. Commend me to him to do acts which amaze even the soldier and sailor, as I have THE LORD'S MIRROR 95 heard from their own lips. A captain of a war- ship told me he once put down a missionary on one of the wildest cannibal islands he knew ; the man was dropped alone, and smiled farewell to the ship's company as if it was nothing, and the captain marvelled and confessed he had learnt a lesson. But it was really nothing. Let me -now repeat words spoken to us at our Summer School at Lowestoft : ' The humble man of God has a curious sense of powerlessness.' ' I have often thought God looked all the world over to find a man weak enough to do that work. When He saw me He said, " That man will do ; he is weak enough." ' That is the man who will do anything or say anything the Lord bids him. ' He can only do what the Lord gives him to do.' It required courage, then, to make the claim con- tained in the words at the head of this message. You, all of you, and I,' he says, ' are mirrors ; when men look in our faces they don't see our- selves, but the Lord.' Surely he was thinking of St. Stephen. I explain it in this fashion. This is a life of faith, and therefore in it we are debarred from the vision of the Lord, except as a spiritual fact. In place of standing before us He places Himself behind us and speaks : ' It is I ' ; ' This is the way ' ; ' Go ye into all the world.' Then we meet one of His people, and, lo ! the glory of the Lord is reflected from 96 VISIONS behind us on to the face of His servant in front of us. It begins with a light, but slowly the light grows into a face, and it is really, in a sense, the face of the Lord. So among all the Means of Grace we put the characters of God's people very high indeed ; the outward and visible sign is there, and the grace for us is there too. In a non-Christian land this is for a long while the only Means of Grace for the people. The Lord walks in those regions, of course, and the people imagine that He is in the earthquake, or in the plague, or in the thunder. No ; He is in the still, small sign of the lives of His servants who reveal their message, as it were, in their faces. That is the looking-glass in which Christ reveals Himself, as He stands back with a veil on His face, which prevents the Presence being visible to the bodily eyes. But He is not hidden from His magic mirror, which for this purpose He sends into all the world. Great indeed is this message quite overwhelming ; and only the humble man of God dare face such facts ; but he must, because he is ' weak enough.' There is no need, I think, to write down the first quality of all which the mirror must possess. Without it nothing is visible ; there is no polished surface ; there are cracks which hideously distort all it reflects. Of course that first need is humility, the wonderful grace of which we can THE LORD'S MIRROR 97 hardly speak lest it should vanish away. No timid creature of the night in the jungle dreads the sun more than does humility anything like public recognition. It is the bloom of spiritual health, which a touch banishes. The -Lord blesses it first before anything else (Matt, v.), and almost any mirror will reflect the Lord which has this quality. There is one word, I am glad to say, in this message which does comfort us : it is the present tense of the verb ' transformed ' ' are being transformed.' It is a slow and gradual process. The child, the youth, middle age, old age all through these the image of the Lord becomes clearer. And of course in the deepest sense it is best seen in the aged. It is the great purpose and object of old age to exhibit the spiritual life most perfectly, to show the young how gradually the physical and the intellectual is transformed into the spiritual. There is less and less of self, more and more of the Lord's image, and, therefore, the old-age mirror of Christ is too beautiful to be given to us for long. After a very few years a hand comes out from behind us and, grasping it, withdraws it into the darkness. We mourn and weep, and say we have lost our only guide, and life can never be the same to us again. Of course it cannot. The aged mirror in which you saw your Saviour was to help you in your turn to 9 8 VISIONS become one of these Means of Grace yourself. Are you humble enough yet ? Are you devoted enough ? How much of self has been polished away ? You are now a middle-aged worker of the Lord. People younger than yourself are looking into your face as their mirror the younger missionaries, the catechumens, the non- Christians. Are you ' weak enough ' yet to reflect the Lord as in a looking-glass ? - And if this high privilege is the flower of old age, what a pathetic thing it is for anyone to try and look young by unworthy, artificial means. Fancy despising the highest use to which a man or woman can be put. Fancy not having realised that the most perfect beauty for a human being is won in the years just before the Lord puts forth His hand to draw the mirror to Himself ; for before that is done the veil between Him- self and His servant has waxed thinner and thinner ; the glory of the Divine Lord shines more fully on the glass, and grace flows from it to the pilgrims of faith more perfectly. Oh ! when shall we be ' weak enough ' for this ? *XXI LIGHTS OF THE WORLD ' Ye are the light of the world.' MATT. v. 14. (i) I SEE the little match struck, the struggle of the flame to grow into life, the steady gleam at last, but so frail in power. Two hands guard it from the blast ; I mean human hands ; these are much in evidence, as though they were the only protectors ; but beyond them I catch the glimmer of other Hands, of One Who has a purpose for that little flame. (2) Years pass, and the match light has long been transferred to a candle. And now my eyes see less of the mere human hands, more of those which, once shadowy, now seem so close. The candle is not in a room safeguarded by curtain and window, but out in the air, and the winds are blowing. I do not know how the flame can be kept alive. The puffs are so strong, how can the light burn down the street, through the town, over the seas ? But look at the Hands ! It is a shaded light, shaded by such Hands, ioo VISIONS Hands with scars, so safe, so well placed ; safer even than those of a coach-driver in the Antipodes, who with one hand holds the reins of four horses and with the other in a strong wind lights his match and keeps it burning in one palm, miraculous as it seems. Ask the driver what is the important thing to remember in order to accomplish this feat, and he will tell you that you must chiefly keep the draught from reaching the light from below, a parable. And what human art can do helps us to realise the daily miracle of life in boyhood and youth, among the gales of the world, fighting not with flesh and blood, but against spiritual world- powers of evil ; the shaded light is not quenched, but gives out its beam to wayfarers, who bless it and pass on. (3) Years pass of mingled experi- ence. We think we can do without the shadow of those Hands, and a puff as nearly as possible quenches our life. With remorse, repentance, humbling, we return and wonder whether we really can live out our life. We become workers pledged to help others by a life consecrated to leadership in light-giving. The Hands are drawn further apart that men may see the light better. They are not withdrawn, but the candle has become a lamp, and so it must endure more blasts and live more and more by faith. There is more care to be taken, for life is as much more LIGHTS OF THE WORLD 101 complex now as the mechanism of a lamp is more complicated than that of a candle. Whole sets of new dangers arise for those who are called to be lights of the world by a holy vocation ; and the falls, as we know them, are just as frequent ; and our inward despair is just as great at times. The lamp cries, ' Oh that I were but a candle again, or a match tended in a room with curtains ! I cannot live in these blasts with those Hands held so far away.' Courage : be of good cheer : see what the Lord wishes to make of thee. (4) On a rocky island out at sea the waves beat furiously ; the gale roars against a tall struc- ture reared up till the summit is 200 feet above the rock foundation. Come up the winding stair, not forgetting to change your shoes at the bottom, for no dirt must defile that place, no chance must be given to slip ; the duty to be done is too weighty to leave anything to chance. Up we ascend till we reach a chamber in which sits a man watching a great lamp burnished in every part, the light graduated with the greatest care : it has five wicks set in circles, each of course larger than the one next it, 54 inches of wick in all. The lamp does not revolve, but round it there is a wonderful globe of glass composed entirely of glass facets, all scienti- fically arranged in order to focus the light of 102 VISIONS the lamp out into the darkness on every side. The house of glass is not more than eight feet high, yet it may have cost 4000. Below it gleam the brass wheels of machinery steadily revolving, and the great globe revolves with it without pause. The man watches : once he winds up the machinery, often he adjusts the chimney according to the wind outside, or wipes a spot clouded by vapour. The gale howls without, but there is not much danger from that quarter. At rare intervals a great bird dashes into the windows which guard the delicate globe and breaks a pane, but it does not often happen. No, the great danger is from within, from sleep. There is one unpardonable sin, that of sleep, and it is hard to sit there in the stillness alone and ever awake for the watch of four hours. But thousands of lives depend upon the watcher. Thousands pass and bless the light, but send no message to the light- keeper, whose record of duty well done is kept elsewhere. The little match, the candle, the little lamp has become that for which it was intended the great lighthouse light. I have described what for days on days I have myself experienced. Windbound on such lonely spots, having gone to minister to the flock scattered through such isles of the sea, I have sat for hours watching the globe revolve LIGHTS OF THE WORLD 103 in the night whilst the gales roared without. Night after night I prepared a good man for Confirmation once in such a chamber, very near to God it seemed, and fruitful of thought. It was well to put off one's shoes at the foot of the stair. Ah me ! and is it in man to be such a light- house ? The spirit faints, the issues are too great, the responsibility of failure too terrible ; let me pass from a post lifted up on high to some other in a lowly place. But courage : the Hands are about the lighthouse too. The Master of all the lights is on the watch. He comes on His round and cheers the keepers and mends the machinery and brings more oil, and praises too generously. Above all He needs us : that thought has power. He needs us for the sake of thousands of wayfarers on the tempestuous sea of life. So let it be as He wills, even if we must bear the greatest burdens. The light is shaded. Be still ! XXII DEVOTION ' It is the Lord.' JOHN xxi. 7. I SUPPOSE most would agree that there is hardly any chapter in the Bible so hard to read aloud as this one from which the above words are taken. There is such emotion in the outwardly simple narrative. There is a thrill in sentence after sentence which makes the heart beat. It is so with the four words quoted ' It is the Lord. ' No one knows how long the Master had been standing on the shore, nor why those fishers did not recognise His voice at once. All of a sudden the disciple whom Jesus loved understood. I do not know how many heard his startled words, but I like to think it was a whisper choked with emotion, and that Peter alone heard it. He heard, and sprang into the sea. In that thrilling whisper, in that leap into the water, you get the secret of miracles. You must have the thrill of love for the Lord. DEVOTION 105 You can have a faith, a saving faith indeed, which works no wonders. It is -a sober thing, good certainly, respectable ; but ' faith that will not love ' does not move mountains. That, of course, is the answer to the perplexities of observers of modern life who say that the Faith of the Gospel has lost its force. It depends where you look for force ; you must go to the hot burning coals, not to the other end of the room, if you want to light your candles or explode powder. Yes, in your faith there must be a thrill. All who have uplifted the world in Christ's name possessed the thrill. They could leap into the sea. They have said, ' It is the Lord, my Lord, my Saviour ! ' And in this year of opportunity, 1908,* will miracles be worked ? There will come nothing from advertisement or boasting, or secondary motives or rivalry or ambition. But signs and wonders will come when we see One in the Congress, in the Conference, in the Service of Thankoffering, in committees and great gatherings : if faces of friends will seem to vanish and the crowds wax dim because One claims our eyes and hearts, and men and women whisper, with that tone no one can mistake, ' It is the Lord.' Many mountains will move then. * The Pan-Anglican Congress followed by the Lambeth Conference. io6 VISIONS But very few of our Mission workers will be at these meetings. The vast number will be in the forefront of the battle, and it is of them we are thinking this year : some at home, with problems of great multitudes, the poor, the rich, the idle, the overworked ; some fighting for Christ in non-Christian lands. You must all have the thrill, you workers. Look at the forces opposing you, hosts on hosts in ordered ranks. You would be frightened and run away unless you have absolute conviction in your own hearts, and have personally seen the Lord and know Him, and possess so deep a devotion for Him that it is revealed in the tone of your voice and the look on your face. Then your will gets the strength of tempered steel, and you look calmly at any host that opposes ; you know that He Who has won you will win the world. And how splendid the Christian's will is, whether in the uneducated or the learned ! There is nothing the world really honours more than the fervent devotion of a humble Christian man. And now a step further. Do not be daunted by the truth that you cannot have a drawn battle for Christ. You must either win or lose ; your will, inspired by God, must push back the foe, or the opposing will is going to dominate you. Here we learn wonderful lessons for our spiritual combat DEVOTION 107 from books on military problems. For example, Colonel Maude, in his ' War and the World's Life,' speaks of the subtle contest that is pro- ceeding when an officer is drilling a regiment. He tells us that when he was fit and well he was drilling his regiment ; but when he was ill or lacking in physical force the regiment drilled him that is, at times he was morally unable to give a certain order for the execu- tion of a difficult manoeuvre, and something compelled him to take a commonplace course because the regiment preferred it and was dominating him. He tells us that there is all the difference in the world between the effect upon men of one officer or of another, because of the tone of the voice. It is the thrill, the force of will which is at once felt by all. What a lesson for us who are called to preach, to teach, to pray ! It is not a question of genius, or of learning, or of educated accent. It is a question of the force speaking out of you. Is it the devotion of an ardent disciple of Christ that speaks ? Is it a heart overflowing with love, devotion, conviction ? Then look out for miracles : down go barriers of the enemy his forces retreat, his soldiers become your prisoners to bring to the Lord, the mountains move, the seas dry up, and the man of the world says, ' Well, there is something wonder- io8 VISIONS ful at work here ; I cannot make it out.' ' It is the Lord.' Yes He is there upon the shore ; and we, we are to drag our net to Him in 1908. Is it to break as we come to Him in a few months from all parts of the world ? Is He about to feed us when we land ? Will He ask us ' Lovest thou Me ? ' ' Yea, Lord ; yea, Lord.' Well, it is worth living if we may do signs and wonders to prove that He is the Saviour of the world in every department of life and in every region of the earth. And when we part again in 1908, may the Lord send us away as coals so heated that the conflagration spreads from pole to pole. And the victory we aim at is one which must be the ideal of every true-hearted man. Whatever the Lord desires, that we wish to get done. Not our ideal but His ; not our view of the truth but the Truth ; not our theory of how to right the wrong, or to teach men, or to regenerate society, but just what He wished done. And may He have mercy upon our blundering efforts and get His will done ! XXIII AARON AND HUR ' And Moses, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of the hill . . . and Aaron and Hur stayed up his hands.' Ex. xvii. 10, 12. IN spirit I am far away from home in company with a band of the King's soldiers, busy, happy men and women. They have gained the cherished desire of their lives, and ask for nothing but health to labour on till the end. One Sunday evening we asked each other what was our vision of home at the moment, what did we see, what touched us most. Many things were mentioned ; the old home with the village street, the church bells, and the graveyard, the cathedral and the old and full life of the parish, and the old folks at home. There was one ot us who was not generally quick of speech ; we often turned to him after all others had spoken and offered him a penny for his thoughts. It was so on this occasion. He looked at us no VISIONS silently for a while, as though oppressed with a special memory of home. Then he said with a tender tone in his voice : ' I see Aaron and Hur.' We waited in silence, and he proceeded : ' Don't you know that Aaron and Hur would have given anything in the world to have gone and smitten the Amalekites ? Moses did not note the anguish in their faces, but it was there. I see Aaron and Hur at home.' A woman of our company broke the silence softly : ' Tell us of them.' He waited for a full minute, and the silence was vocal ; we knew we should get our lesson soon. ' I see a man standing before a physician, who looks at him with a kind expression as he examines him, and meanwhile extracts his story. The younger man is saying, " All my life, sir, I have longed to be a missionary, but I could not manage it before. My parents were dead against it, and they demanded my help at home. So I have been in an office, and whenever I could I crept away to my studies ; I have learnt Latin and Greek ; I have saved 100 to go towards my training. It has been hard on my health as well as on my income ; but now I am free. My parents are at rest and good friends tell me I may go, and I feel so well ; I am sure I am strong enough for any country." Then I look at the doctor's face, and a tenderness in his AARON AND HUR in eyes makes me apprehensive ; then he speaks. " I have bad news for you, and you must meet it like a man. You have somehow overtaxed your heart ; you have been too assiduous. No, you must stay at home." " Is there no hope ? Must I give up the longings of my whole life ? " " Yes ; the door is closed." I see him walking away, stunned ; he reaches his lodging and shuts his door and leans his head upon his hands. But he turns to prayer and through the ache there comes a message.' We don't interrupt. ' Look at that aged woman on a couch ; her hands are engaged with knitting ; there is peace in her face, as a visitor who comes in at once realises. The newcomer is a missionary returned from the field, happy, but worn with the dust of the battle not yet wiped off. And the crippled woman speaks : " I lie here and try to create the picture of your life ; forty years ago I thought I should have gone to the work you have been doing. Then one day I slipped, and here I have been lying ever since. Forty years I have prayed and worked. I have travelled all those forty years. In the early mornings ere the stars go I see the world my Master died to redeem all spread out before me, and I can pray at all events. Do you think this useless body can thus help you ? I am one of the band of untra veiled travellers. " H2 VISIONS Then I see the younger woman slip gently down on to her knee and kiss the white hand and leave a tear on it.' There was a stir among our company, but no one spoke, and he pro- ceeded : ' There, do you see that priest ? He is walking with an old missionary. " I have applied to missionary bishops and to societies, but they won't have me. I am as strong as a horse, and I am always reading of Missions, but they won't have me. They say I should never do abroad. Once I was told I didn't know what tact meant ; then they said I was too old ; and so, although they have nothing against me which I can get hold of, I have never fought the fight you have been engaged in." But here comes another figure with all the signs of mature Christian character, honoured by all and holding responsible office. I know what he is saying on St. Andrew's Eve. " I suppose men call me fortunate, but they don't know that it has been the dearest wish of my life to work abroad. India called me, so did Japan and China. I met Smythies and longed to join him. But they never let me go ; there was always some big work at home ; and then there was the care of all the Churches abroad, and their supplies of men and women and the money. Now I know I shall never follow the steps of my Saviour through the lands of other AARON AND HUR 113 races, or see the ' other sheep ' in their own homes, not until we stand before the Throne." I see a middle-aged woman, with the patient look of one who has lived for others always, and the personal desires have long ago been covered with layer after layer of unselfish labours. I hear her talking to a leader of the Church. " Yes, I never remember the time when I did not long to be a missionary. But I never got much schooling ; I had to come home at fourteen to tend my mother, who had always been ailing ; and there were six brothers and sisters younger than myself. I was the eldest, and mother called me ' mother.' When she died she left me in charge ; but at last the youngest is out. I got them all places, and cooked and kept house for them ; and now I am middle-aged and I am not wanted as I once was. But I have no learning, and I never could get any special training ; I only know how to be an elder sister. They wouldn't look at me for a missionary So I just tell them about it all in my Sunday class, and am Treasurer of the Mission Fund. And once I was allowed to put up a missionary for a night, and we sat up and talked half the night ; and I know the names of so many in the field, and at times when I cannot sleep I read the names and pray for them ; and then, if it is not presumption i ii 4 VISIONS for me to do it, I turn to the Acts and read how St. Paul was not allowed to preach in Asia. I think some day I may be able to tell my Lord that He wouldn't let me preach in Asia either, nor anywhere else, for I am not learned. But He knows, and what could I do for Him ? " He ceased, and the night was still, and the stars looked down on us, and we brooded ; then the eldest of our band said with effort : ' Who are the true missionaries, they who go abroad or they who stay at home and pray, the cripples or the hale ? ' No one spoke at first ; then the newest recruit whispered : ' He that soweth and he that reapeth.' And a woman asked, ' Who won the fight, Joshua or Hur ? ' Then we parted, but first we all went and shook hands with the man who always spoke last. XXIV A THANKOFFERING OF MONEY (Pan-Anglican Congress, 1908) ' Whomsoever ye shall approve by letters, them will I send to carry your bounty unto Jerusalem : and if it be meet for me to go also, they shall go with me.' i COR. xvi. 3, 4. SEVEN were chosen. Those who ought to know say St. Paul probably wished to recall to the Church at Jerusalem the memory of the seven deacons. Certainly, one of those first seven had been the means of transforming St. Paul's own life so completely that his old friends would hardly have known him. St. Paul helped to murder Stephen : now he brings to the same spot seven more who were carrying aid to the Mother City. This was his reparation. Aristarchus, Secundus, Gaius, Timothy, Tychichus, Trophi- mus , Luke seven delegates from over seas. How we wish we had a longer record of their reception ' the brethren received us gladly,' that is all. We should like to have a record from a member I 2 n6 VISIONS of the Church at Jerusalem. ' They come seven of them : was it not interesting that they stayed upon the way with Philip ? he must have told them of Stephen and of Paul in those days. There is Paul with them telling who among them has never before been in the Holy City. We must show these the sacred places. And it is really true, then, that the Gentile churches have sent us help and with such a message of love ? Which is Timothy, which the Physician ? Now, hush ! Paul speaks.' Who would not have liked to have heard that loving heart pouring itself out, handing in the money, insisting upon showing the account audited in each place ? Perhaps we are foolish in trying to re-create the scene. Our excuse is that we are within sight of another Thank- offering.* Soon the Delegates who bear the alms will be upon their way. But nigh two thousand years have passed and great are the changes. Jerusalem, the Mother City, is in non-Christian hands. Far away in the West is another Mother City, now the centre of a world- wide Church. To London there come all races with alms from Asia, Africa, America, Australasia. A gift comes from Jerusalem to London. The Heads of the Church are coming, the priests, laymen, women. But the gifts are * At the Pan-Anglican Congress. A THANKOFFERING OF MONEY 117 not for the Mother Church. The old home will not accept a farthing from the children. The Mother Church has made her own collection, too, but she will not keep a farthing of that either. No, so great is the joy in her heart over the expected presence of so many of her kith and kin that she desires to give free hospitality to all who touch these shores bear- ing messages of love, to thousands if she can : and then to ask them to accept all she has collected for the brethren beyond the seas. She begs them to form with her a Council worthily representing all lands to place bishops on it, and priests, and laymen, and women. St. Paul was not more anxious to be businesslike than she is to-day in London, and to crush every motive not noble, everything selfish or unworthy. I think we had better let the Mother Church speak in dream fashion, the sort of dream that comes true. English Churchman. ' They come ; that must be a brother from the tropics ; note the worn, transparent look which tells of sleepless nights and fevers, the patient look content to be or not to be, to do or not to do. Look ! would you recognise that other ? He has failed much in body, but there is no sign of weakness in his face. He has tramped thou- sands of miles since his last visit home ; he li$ VISIONS comes from Africa, and there, appropriately, side by side is the man whose flock is scattered through polar lands ; not much of home does he get, but how happy he looks. And now come the Japanese, the Chinese, the Indians : all brethren, all equal in this assembly ; it is good to be here.' He was silent watching the long procession ; then at his side a woman's voice begins : ' I wonder what they think of us. Do you think they have been through the dark places of this city ? Have they seen the very poor, the unemployable, the careless rich, the division between the districts where the rich and the poor live ? I fear there is one thing they cannot help noticing : I mean the divisions within the Church. Do you think they know that some of us won't even meet others of us because we interpret the Prayer Book differently ? And then our own gift. How small it is ; how wealthy the Church as a whole is ; what a fragment this offering is com- pared to what we spend on games and pleasures. I fear ; I dread their going home disillusioned. Do you think there is any chance of their coming with gladness and returning in sorrow, only glad to be returning ? I would we could bring them in contact only with our noble ones.' Let us now leave these and pass silently over to the other side. A THANKOFFERING OF MONEY 119 A Delegate from Abroad. ' I have often been warned that they were very stiff and rather cold in the Old Country. What could they have been thinking of ? Ever since I have set foot in old England and it is the first time in my life I have been surrounded with kind- ness. My badge has been an " open sesame." I believe I could walk into the Mansion House, or into a more exalted place, and be welcomed with smiles. But what touches me most is the humility of Churchmen. I don't hear any boastfulness ; indeed, they are almost too anxious to tell me of their shortcomings. I know Churchmen have been well hammered of late, in Parliament and outside of it. There is no doubt that there are worse things than being hammered ; and I have been deeply touched by the chastened spirit I have noted. " God be merciful to me, a sinner." " Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do ? " I feel those are the words written all over the Congress Services, and my heart goes out to the Mother Church. We have gained much from her battles with Rome, Puritanism, Deism, Uni- tarianism, even Buddhism at home. Her land is full of memories of battles ; so is her Church history ; and she carries the scars ; and they hurt at times, I can see that. Some of us were afraid as we travelled that we should find the 120 VISIONS old Mother grasping after power or position over us. I don't see a sign of it. It was a bold thing for her to ask us all to come and discuss every burning question with her priests, laymen, women, all are asked, and a record is to be kept of the trend of our opinions. I am not a bit afraid of the old Mother.' A Voice. ' Brethren from all lands of all races members of young churches and of the old Mother Church. We meet in God's presence : let us humble ourselves. Cast away all selfish- ness ; let there be no self-seeking. See that there be nothing unworthy in the manner of the collection of your offering, no rivalries, except to fill the lowest place. Let us make a pure offering. Let no suspicion pass over any of you of the thought " What shall I myself gain by this ? " Rather let each of you plead, however great your need, " Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us." Now bless the Lord with hearts purified. Consult, pray, act. Then per- chance the place shall be shaken and the Spirit shall descend with power for His work the Lord's work God blessed for ever.' When our great days come upon us, would St. Paul have liked to be present ? XXV A PERSONAL THANKOFFERING (Pan-Anglican Congress, 1908) ' Simon, of John, lovest thou me ? . . . Tend my sheep.' JOHN xxi. 16. EASTER had passed : and in the Church of God there was a stir of expectation : ' Christ is risen.' The message repeated once again must surely gather force and penetrate deeper into the minds and hearts of God's people. In this year especially might we not expect a fuller revelation of the presence of the Only Begotten, full of grace and truth and power ? Based on the splendid life of individual servants of God might there not be a corporate move- ment greater than ever we have known, sufficient to impress the world with the fact that God lives and loves and works ? It was very early on the morning of St. George's Day. Something drew me long before it was light to St. Paul's. The City was asleep ; no 122 VISIONS cart, no sign of ordinary business life was visible : yet through the streets I saw men and women silently hurrying towards a postern gate on the south-east of the great cathedral. There a light was burning, and without pausing, as though they were obeying a summons, they passed in. Something urged me to follow ; no one stayed me, and so I ascended to the little eastern chapel, then following a young priest I descended to the crypt. All was bright with light here, and the gates leading to the graves were thrown open. Groups knelt before the Holy Table, and then they passed on to the recesses covered with memorials of many of the great and good clustered round the tombs of the few worthy of actual burial here. The men and women were evidently awaiting some event, but none spoke. A young priest stood near me, and I asked him, more by a look than by speech, what it meant. He held up a finger and answered under his breath, ' We are to be tested for His Service any- where there is a call but who is worthy ? ' Silence fell again, and then the great bell tolled an hour and all seemed to gather themselves up, each in his characteristic fashion. The young man next to me stood up erect on both feet with a paling countenance ; a woman near him dropped on her knees and covered her face ; A PERSONAL THANKOFFERING 123 a third stood with drooping head ; some fell on their faces and lay still ; I heard a sobbing in some places. Then I was aware that some one came ; whether it was He Whose name is above every name, or some angel visitor, I know not, but it was a presence more than of earth. I drew back, not in fear so much as with a desire to efface myself, and found I was leaning against my own father's memorial tablet, whereat I found comfort. Could I see the face of him who came ? I cannot answer with certainty, for of set purpose it seemed to me to be shrouded in mist : but through the cloud I seemed to catch glimpses which said, ' This is Justice, this is Love, in one ' ; the face was strong, but it did not terrify because the eyes were so tender : and I bethought me that I had seen a vision of them in Bellini's ' Doge.' The mysterious form stood there and said naught, but a feeling spread throughout that concourse, I felt it swelling up in myself a desire and a longing to tell forth to him all that was mean and base and unworthy, a conviction that till this was done we could not be happy. And speech came at length. The first to break the silence was a man prostrate on the floor. ' I am not worthy, and I will get me back again : I heard the call, but what I craved for was change of scene : I found no satisfaction 124 VISIONS in the priestly life here, and I sought it else- where : yet I did not really wish to live abroad : I merely desired a change, and some experi- ence which would help me to a more lucrative sphere at home: I am not worthy.' The form turned those tender eyes toward him, and sympathy seemed to flow to him from his brethren also, since he had made his confession. The young priest beside me then spoke : ' I believe deep down in my heart I desired to be married, and thought that the call would help me to fulfil my desire : I know not quite how it is, but I fear it may be thus.' A girl then spoke : ' I know not if I ought to be here : my parents forbid me to go ; am I to disobey them ? My duties conflict ; I know not whether it is self which leads me to break a commandment, or whether I should "hate father and mother." ' Another spoke : ' I doubt myself : I fear that, as I needed some profession, I bethought me of this service as easy of attainment and a pleasant life. I know not whether I have any call, and whether I am prepared to give up all with joy.' It would weary you if I told of all the phases of self -judgment laid bare before the great realities which here dominated all. And ever those eyes and that stern face turned from person to person. At last confession ceased, there was a great pause, and I wondered A PERSONAL THANKOFFERING 125 what would follow. Then I noticed a servant standing beside the shrouded form. He had in his hands an open book, and he began to read, and his voice was like a bell. He began reading St. John x., then he passed to St. Luke xv., then, after a pause, to the story of the Passion : no one tired, all seemed to forget the body in the intense message of the words read in such tones : then he passed to St. John xx. and xxi., and when he had come to the words at the top of this paper, he read if possible with a deeper note ; and looking around on all sides he repeated the question. I noted also that all seemed to prefix their own name to it, as I did. Again and again the words were repeated by him, and he waited for the response to the words, ' Lovest thou Me ? ' But none came ; at first I wondered at this, then I understood. So deep had become the feeling, so high the mean- ing of love, that they thought themselves unworthy of the answer made of old to it longing rather to give it in action than in words. He shut the book, and looked around on all, and said with a great gentleness, ' Are you who stand here prepared to go where the Lord wills, to stay till He moves you, to change your post whenever He chooses, to bear what He lays upon you, to take pleasure for His sake in poverty, in afflictions, in necessities ? ' There 126 VISIONS was a movement, and one who was prostrate lifted himself up. Then a man murmured, 'Who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and hath sat down at the right hand of God.' Again the reader asked, ' Can you endure years of toil, work without romance, duty without apparent success ? ' A girl moved a step, and laid her hand gently on Nelson's tomb. Again, ' Do you believe in a strength that cannot fail ? ' From somewhere in the background a voice came, ' We have not a high priest that cannot be touched with a feeling of our infirmities, we have as an anchor of the soul a hope both sure and steadfast.' ' Are you prepared to live or to die anywhere for His sake ? ' A woman answered, ' I hold not my life of any account as dear unto myself, so that I may accomplish my course.' Silence fell once again, and it seemed to me that now a vision might come to those purified by penitence and by faith. I was not mistaken. The figure of which I have spoken extended his arms, and the solid walls of the cathedral seemed to melt away on all sides. The whole world was laid open as a map, the continents and seas, the hills and the islands ; all of it touched with a tender light as a land redeemed by the Lord of all by His blood, all of it loved by Him. And slowly the bands of men A PERSONAL THANKOFFERING 127 and women passed out of my sight, spreading themselves among the nations. I longed to see how they would be placed, but I could not. Instead, I awoke. It was St. George's Day indeed, and time to rise in order to meet the Master of all in the Chapel of St. George at the Feast which He Himself ordained. And as I looked on the banners hung around, and thought of the men who were working nobly in all parts of the world for God and their King, I seemed to understand why the scene of the vision had been in the Church underground. For there are two armies at work. The one deals with the springs of men's action, with their beliefs and motives, wielding no material sword, but only exerting influence, slow in working, but resistless when accepted, for it is the power of God in the heart, out of sight, too deep for the eye of the business man in the street above. The other is God-sent, too, but works with means more seen of men, with more tangible rewards. Both alike minister to God's victories. But as I returned home, I mused upon the vision of the crypt, and wished that I had been of their company. XXVI THE JUDGMENT OF BISHOPS (The Lambeth Conference, 1908) ' And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened.' REV. xx. 12. ALL were there : the prodigals and the elder brothers, those who had never known God and those who had : all the nations, the black, the yellow, the white. For my own part I saw there with emotion the prophets of modern days as well as of old, standing beside the leaders of the Church of all centuries. But my eyes were fixed upon the leaders, for by some unseen means I knew that they were to be judged first. Somehow or other, therefore, way was made for the Bishops of the Church to stand out before all others, before all the world, to receive judgment. There they stood, left in a group alone : and for their part it seemed to me that they acknowledged that it was just and right ; they were glad because JUDGMENT OF BISHOPS 129 thus, perchance, they might shield others, alleg- ing themselves as the reason, more than any- thing else, of the evil and the faithlessness of the world. But a difference was perceptible among all those millions of peoples from what I had known them to be. The universal feeling seemed to be that now everyone in ah 1 that host everywhere knew. They saw God as He is and understood Him : His awful love, His patience, His truth. They saw the Son of God and the Holy Spirit ; and now at last they understood all the way of God with sin, and the price of victory. Then the countless numbers of those who only now had come to know, who had never known in this world, turned their eyes upon us who stood there in front. Nothing could prevent our knowing what they thought. No word was needed, but they seemed to point, as it were, to God and say to us : ' You knew Him ; you knew what He is and Whom He sent ; you knew Jesus and the Spirit, and you never told us.' Silence reigned, the silence of reproach ; and there is none so terrible. And we who were there in front accepted the blame, the whole of it. ' It is our fault, our grievous fault, not of the others.' Had we not had warning ? Yes. ' Woe to the shepherds of Israel that do feed themselves : should not the shepherds feed K I 3 o VISIONS the sheep ? ... My sheep were scattered upon all the face of the earth, and there was none that did search or seek after them.' The words of the Ordinal three times over in our lives smote us. We accepted the blame. There standing before the world judgment drew near. God drew near. From ourselves, all that once gave satisfaction slipped away, nothing but the naked soul was left. God and the soul. Did we fear ? I hardly know if that is the word. It was more like a sense of awe at the presence of Truth, Love, and Life, too great for aught but wonder, not exactly terror. And as we stood together there was a sense of comradeship in the close association with us of so many Teat and good men. But that sense was not allowed to remain, for now of a sudden we knew that each must be judged separately : com- panionship of the brethren one with another was to vanish. So one by one those before me went forward to judgment : some I knew well, and blessed them as they passed on for all I had owed them. What was said to them ? Whither were they taken ? The matter was hid from me, nor did I seem to be in any way curious about it. It seemed as if the wonder of being in the presence of Truth, Love, and Life had submerged every other feeling. At length one passed by me after his ordeal, and JUDGMENT OF BISHOPS 131 returning from his judgment. I had known him well and his praise is in the Gospel. I can- not describe the change which had passed over his countenance, for there are no words in any earthly language to write down the secret of the Lord with those that fear Him, nor the fashion of the face of one who has looked unveiled on Jesus Christ, and has heard the voice of Him Who reigns. But by reason of the great love I bore him I looked his way, wonder- ing whether he would deign to speak with me. He did. He drew near, and I looked anxiously at him as though I would have him tell me something of what he could reveal now. At length he spoke : ' When I was called just now to go alone to judgment I was op- pressed by the sense of my many sins in my office in the Church : I saw the priests upon whom I had been too hard, and others with whom I had been too lax : the temperaments I had never touched, whole classes of people I had had no message for ; my acts of cowardice in face of opinion, my weakness in not daring things, my self-indulgence in not giving more of my time and strength. But as I went these memories passed from me. I felt something forcing me to go even further back, to think of the elementary questions, of myself alone, my own life, my own faith, my own sins as a I 3 2 VISIONS man, as one soul. This was the root of the matter now, myself and my own life before Him. Then first I became afraid. I felt the terror of being near Holiness. So at length I felt alone, my thoughts were confused ; I could remember little, if anything, of the past except in a con- fused way. But as I stood, a naked soul, not a bishop or a leader, but just a human being, the sense of need rushed in upon me, and I remembered my Saviour, Him to Whom I used to turn of old. I longed that I might have Him near me now, for He knew me : He had never lost patience with me : when I had despaired He had given me courage to try again : when I had fallen in the mire He had lifted me up and cleared away the stains : when sorrow came He laid His hand upon my head, and I had risen up again. And when one day I had placed myself in the condemned cell, no longer worthy to live for my fault repeated again and again, and had lost hope, He came and sat beside me. He said He knew and understood, and opened the cell-door, and led me out into the light and bade me try again, and then in some wonderful way He took my place and suffered for me. All this passed through me, and I longed for my Advocate, for He could speak for me. I ceased to think, and saw no light, nor cculd I lift up my eyes. Then JUDGMENT OF BISHOPS 133 one touched me and said, " He bids thee look up." I could not disobey, and I looked.' My friend had ceased to speak and I was in terror lest he would leave me. I could not tell you what his countenance displayed in its passing feelings, the mixed abasement and the peace and the life that is life indeed. I feared he would be unable to say more, but at length he proceeded : ' I looked,' and the tone of his voice had now a different note, ' and there I beheld my Advocate, my dear Master and Friend ; Him to Whom I had so often unbosomed myself Him Who had never deserted me even though He knew the worst. " So Thou art my Judge, O my Master! " I said, and I think I held out my arms to Him. I cannot tell thee what followed, but it seemed to me that there could be no joy so good as to be judged by Him, It seemed not to matter whither I went or what He chose to award me, for I had come to Him Who had suffered for me.' ' And whither dost thou go ? ' I faltered. He did not answer, but he looked on me and smiled, and I felt as though new worlds of Truth and Love and Life were revealed to me. I was sorry I had asked. ' One question may I ask,' I said, ' just one ? Was there nothing of all you had done or had been on earth which came to you with a sense of peace as you stood there ? ' 134 VISIONS Again that tender smile passed over his face, ' One thing there was that did remain with me. The things I forgave.' He passed on to his own place, and I was left once more with my brethren the Bishops for judgment. XXVII UPHILL ' Who shall dwell in Thy holy hill ? ' Ps. xv. i. I AM an old missionary, unmarried ; forty years and more I have spent in what you in England call ' Regions Beyond.' To me it is home, and I hope that here I may die. The other day I started before dawn to climb for the last time the big mountain close at hand. I wished to be alone, as we old ones often do. More than this, the aged tend to find the divi- sion between things visible and invisible wax thin ; and something told me I would find all Nature vocal, and my day's journey interpret the story of my life. It was dark when I started ; I stumbled over stones, over many things carelessly left about ; I hit my head against a sharp corner of a house ; I plunged into a rubbish heap ; I lost my way among the huts ; I bethought me of my comfortable bed and the lamp-light, of a breakfast not eaten, and I 3 6 VISIONS I paused and turned round ; I even took a few steps back. Then something pulled me : round I went, but stood still ; again the tug, ever so gentle, and a whisper ; I proceeded again. I reached the wood, and it was darker than ever ; the old stumps were still as vexatious as they ever were, for I remember some of them years ago, and asked for the twentieth time : ' Are these impediments set here to torment every generation of man ? ' Again I heard whispers, whether of sympathy or reproof of my ignorance I know not. Then it began to rain. When I touched a branch I was deluged, and I longed again for my room below. Was it worth climb- ing the hill ? Probably there would be no view, nought but mist ; I would return. But once more the pull came, and I bethought me of the man who had put his hand to the plough. Then it occurred to me that I had better eat something. So I seated myself beside a great rock and ate my bread, and strength began to stir within me : also of a sudden I saw the flash of faint light eastward. The dawn was at hand. Alone upon the mountain-side, not far up yet, but still above the sleeping village, I watched the sun rise, heard the birds wake and burst into song. I rose and faced the steep track, and now that I could see I tried to recognise the old footmarks which I followed. UPHILL 137 In part I succeeded, and as some were of those I called friends, benefactors, examples, though their skin differed from mine in colour, I recalled with joy the fact that I was but treading in their steps. I had did I imagine it only ? com- panions both in front and behind. I was not deserted even by my own human kind. I had a large family circle, and thereat my old blood coursed almost youthfully through my veins. But I was soon to meet disaster. True, I had left the wood behind and the drenching from the herbage ; the sun was shining and I felt his warmth ; but one difficulty had only given place to another, and the last was more dangerous than those behind. A fall now did not mean discomfort, but danger. Rocks had to be scaled, and a slip meant a broken limb. I began to long indeed for the wet and unpleasant forest. Still I made good progress and was elate, and said I to myself : ' They would hardly take me for three score and fifteen now.' Then I fell ; I slipped back, I hit my head violently against a rock, I almost fell head downwards, clutching at roots and herbage, and presently I was lying all of a heap in a muddy place, half stunned and wholly humiliated. I lost an hour, only thankful that no bones were broken, but feeling that my seventy-five years had become eighty- five. I trusted more to my stick now, placing 138 VISIONS it in clefts and leaning upon it when I could. What should I have done without my trusty staff ? When, as I tried to raise myself and leant upon my stick, it broke, and I had much ado in saving myself from a much worse disaster than any I had yet known. So now I sat me down to consider. Could I, staffless, dare to continue on my way ? Was it prudence or cowardice ? As I wondered I felt the gentle pull again and it came upon me with a rush of peace that I was not alone nor staffless. The unseen Helper was quite real ; and as I gazed around I murmured the words of the old pro- phet : ' Lord, open his eyes that he may see.' And the hand that tugged at me seemed to pass over my face, and I saw I cannot explain, but I saw, and I rose with haste to go upward, for spread before me was the fate of my own life ; a long life, yes, but not yet ended, with perils overcome, yes, but with new perils at every step upward, and also with a clearer vision ; that last thought made up for all, and I learnt that it is only in the rarer air upon the mountain, and generally in solitude, that the visions come. But I must hasten with -my tale. With no pride in my strength, and watching every step, at length I reached the snow. Above me was reared an ice-fall. From it a stream tore its way downwards. I could ascend no higher, UPHILL 139 and it did not seem to me that the hands pulled me any more. So I sat me down, and behold, spread out before me, as it seemed, were all the kingdoms of the world. The spot, the scene, bred thoughts, some of which I set down for you. First, how quickly a few hours, a few steps upward, can change the entire view of this world and of life. Each step I have taken proves to me that one day I shall reach the summit. Half the journey ended is proof that the other half is a fact. Then, how different is my experience from that which seems to dominate those who are at last deserting materialism to-day for a spiritual belief. Behind the visible they speak of almost nothing but evil presences. Are they going back to the Solomon Islanders for a faith before they return to Christ ? For myself I feel most of all the pressure of angel hands ; and this is the essence of the Gospel good tidings which man cannot believe because it is good beyond his dreams. Again, look at the snow peak I cannot reach ; thank God, it is a peak, not a volcano. It is nearer God, not nearer molten lava bursting from earth's fires. It is God I have approached. I shall not be swept downward as a cinder, but led upward by those hands I have felt. 140 VISIONS Once again, how much more clearly we see this great world and our duty to it as we rise up to God. Behold, I can see a score of villages now and from here, not merely my own restricted sphere. I can pray now as I could not before and can use all the words of the Psalms and of the Lord and His Apostles, and of the men and women of prayer whose steps I have noted before me on the track, as I could not do before. But though I can see around, I cannot see what is behind the hill, and I know I ought not to see : things unimaginable, words unspeakable, facts beyond understanding are there. I wait. How good, too, is the silence and the peace of the mount ! Oh that I could continue here above the wet forest and the mud and the dust- heaps and the cares of the village ! Why should I ever return ? It was a still day and sounds were carried far in that rarefied atmosphere, so on my ear there fell the distant tinkle of a bell I knew it at once ; it was the sound of my own church bell ringing to evensong : my flock were wend- ing churchward : and I their pastor was dream- ing discontent at the foot of the ice-fall. With shame I rose, humbly asking pardon, and descended to my valley. But I had seen the course of a life strangely like my own drawn for me (how will it be with you ?), full of mystery, UPHILL 141 but just as full of the presence of Almighty and most loving God my Father. ' Who shall dwell in Thy holy hill ? ' He that climbs and he that works in the valley : not the one without the other. XXVIII THE ANSIDEI MADONNA ' That the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give unto you the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of Him ; having the eyes of your heart enlightened, that ye may know what is the hope of His calling.' EPH. i. 17, 18. WONDER, knowledge ever deeper, light shed upon all things, the heart fed as well as the head, hope ever brighter as we obey the call such thoughts and prayers surge through the Apostle's brain whilst his arm is bound to a Roman soldier. His thoughts are far away from earthly prisons.' So I mused : then I looked up, and my eye fell upon a copy of the Ansidei Madonna hanging over the Cross in our little home chapel. The picture grew, and this is what I saw. It is the first lesson of the Divine Child given to Him by His mother. Behind it is the dawn, light breaking, flushing, mingling with the THE ANSIDEI MADONNA 143 delicate blue ; but I only see at present a lofty seat, austere in shape no angels are visible. This is no drawing-room for lounging, but a school-room mark the steps, first narrow, then broadening. The teacher opens the book of the Scripture of the Old Dispensation, but I cannot see the page. I would I knew which wai the first story learnt by the Infant. The Child Jesus appears to guess the meaning of this new experience, and with folded arms He bends to learn. The Virgin Mother reads. Scarcely has she begun ere I note a wondrous thing. Two figures steal up silently not the shepherds, not the Magi ; not Moses and Elijah ; yet the moment when the first lesson from the written book is learnt by Him Who came to be all in all to us calls up two visitors. There they stand silent, wondering, listening, one on each side. What a great contrast they are one to the other, in dress and in attitude. The one looks up, the other down. To me as I gaze they are each several people, and yet each presentment is welcome. At first I said : ' They are the Old and the New Testament. Look ! they meet in the Divine Person there. They stand one on each side : one dreams, the other studies what has come to pass and is of eternal significance. There stands the Old Testament and in the Eastern garb, of course : for in the East alone 144 VISIONS were the words written for Easterns first. But why has he not the book in his hand ? Because Jesus is learning from it. Therefore despise it not, belittle it not. The more you learn about its cover and the grain of the parchment, let the message and revelation in it sink deeper into your heart. Tear not, foul not its pages : Jesas has the Book.' But that figure it would do well also for Isaiah : his mind and heart are full of hopes and dreams : rapt away from earth, perhaps he is listening to his own words read by the Mother to the Child. How holy the expression of that Eastern prophet ! He sees invisible things, ' the hope of His calling,' the Lord in the Temple (Isa. vi.), and the Heavenly Babe. I wonder, does he also note that the Child looks not his way ? He turns to the page, but not to the prophet. The Old Testament, in one sense, is behind Him. Here I pause, and the figure may now be John the Baptist with the staff, just outside the Kingdom which is to come. As one who has himself entered the new Kingdom, I would gladly t go and stand beside that Eastern pro- phet. ' Among those born of women ' I murmur. Then, after a while, I turn to the other figure. ' Look ! the volume is larger, more important : THE ANSIDEI MADONNA 145 it contains the words of Jesus Himself preserved for us. The Child Himself looks that way. There the Book which holds the words of eternal life lies in the hands of the Church He founded. See, too, how the Church is immersed in the study of that Book. Stealing up to be present at the first lesson at Nazareth, the figure can- not take his eyes off that Book, for it is his guide, his measure, his inspiration, the greatest treasure of the Church. I hear him read : " That the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give unto you a spirit of wisdom and revelation in the know- ledge of Him ; having the eyes of your heart enlightened, that ye may know what is the hope of His calling." He clutches the shepherd's staff more firmly as he reads. See, the same look of holiness is on his face too.' But I said that those figures seem to me to be each of them several people. Suddenly I say ' Why, they are the East and the West ! The Child claims all : no one can claim Him more than any other, for all possess Him ; and how the two differ : it is a parable of the age-long misunderstandings between us, yet there is the meeting-point, the Child upon the throne. The one meditates, the other studies. The one is dressed for the tropics, the other for the cold. And on the ground as I look I see things at the 146 VISIONS feet of the West, nothing at the feet of the East. Then I remember the story of St. Nicholas, of his practical Western beneficence : how he heard of the three daughters who strove to support the aged father and could not do it honestly and told him that for his sake they must lead a life of shame : and how the Bishop heard it, and at dead of night threw into the cottage window on three successive nights a bag of gold ; how the children rejoiced to hear of it, and for ever took to their heart their good Santa Claus. Meanwhile the East remains buried in thought, but we shall yet obtain his gift, some new thing not yet 'revealed ; let the East ponder while the West is too busy to do so, too little given to dreams. Yet they are brothers, brothers of Martha and Mary, not named in Scripture ; but now we see them standing silent, listening at Nazareth to that first lesson. Once more the picture waxes dim, the figures shift a little. I see a fresh grouping. The Virgin hands the Book to the Eastern sage. The Old Testament and the New Testament, the East and the West, steal gently forward, clasp hands, and crouch together upon the lowest step just there at the feet of Jesus : their heads are now close to each other. But I can hear naught. Some other^ painter must tell the THE ANSIDEI MADONNA 147 story. Raphael has done his part, and right glad am I that this ' first lesson ' forms the cen- tral spot in England's National Gallery. Let it be an earnest that we are ' lifelong disciples in the school of Christ.' L 2 XXIX TRANSFORMATION ' He that believeth on Me.' JOHN vi. 35. I HAD undertaken his duty for a Sunday ; in- deed, it was hard to refuse him anything. From time to time news reached us of my friend from far away in the bush, of the love he inspired from the lips of boundary riders, shearers, women and children. He had been laid up, he wrote ' worn out ' should have been the expression would I take his services for one Sunday ? I was to begin at a place thirty miles off and end for evensong where he lived. Of course I went. It was a sweltering day, but I had put up with the heat and flies and dust, as a privilege almost, for my old comrade's sake, cheered at every point by the love that gleamed through the questions I was asked through the day : ' How 's the rector ? ' ' God bless him, but he 's kind.' ' Oh ! he 's too good for us out here, and he '11 be taken away.' TRANSFORMATION 149 ' Give him my love, please/ said a little girl. ' And what name shall I say ? ' ' Annie.' At length I reached his house, an ordinary wooden building, with verandah and iron roof, and tanks at corners, a wire door for the flies, and a stable at one side. ' I 'm getting up, old man,' a voice said from his bedroom ; ' go and have a wash, and we '11 have supper. Mrs. Francis will come and cook for me : so we 're in com- fort.' ' Cook for him/ I heard another voice mutter ; ' yes, who wouldn't ? ' I had my wash, not a bath the tanks at that time of the year must not be insulted but I had a rub down, and emerged into the sitting-room and had a look round. Familiar names smiled at me from the book-shelves. On the walls hung a sacred picture, a framed testimonial from the children of a parish, another from the men's club ; a clock looked like the gift of the congregation, and so forth. He came in looking thin and haggard, but with a face of such content ! Well, we supped, and the good helper aforesaid would not let us wash up or make his bed. When she departed she just gave a look at the rector. It was good to see that look ; but she was not a woman of many words. We talked of the day's work, then fell into silence; then drifted into occasional sentences 150 VISIONS suggesting days gone by, ideas, what not. He began then to soliloquise, with his first pipe for a week. ' We missionaries beyond most others have one special duty ; we 've got to prove the truth of what the Master said : " He that cometh to Me shah 1 never hunger, and he that believeth on Me shall never thirst." ' I didn't speak. ' It 's either Heaven with us in places or Hell. . . . It depends, of course, where you've got to in life. . . . Some don't think much of Westcott's refinement and differentiation of expressions, but my own heart goes out to them. . . . You see, I 've found them true. . . . Look at his note on St. John viii. 30, 31, and the difference between ' ' believed Him ' ' and ' ' believed on Him . ' ' (The Authorised gives the phrase wrong in v. 31.) ... It 's one of the great divides. . . .' I only nodded : I was not going to put him out of his stride. ' I think I could certainly do my work here if I only " believed Him " : it is a good duty, and the sense of it would keep me going ; and I would bide my time, and then get an exchange to one of the big towns and be glad of it, and let some one else tackle this job. . . .' I 'm not going to say a word against that position ; I know it so well myself. It was mine when I was ordained. I was prepared to rough it like any soldier or sailor ' for His sake,' and also to TRANSFORMATION 151 get a more comfortable billet when I could. I looked up at the picture over the mantelpiece, Francia's ' Entombment/ and I thought I knew what was coming. ' No one particular thing happened, but slowly everything happened . . . let 's call it realisation ... it was in the home parish. Some would call it visions, or intimacy, or knowledge, or love replacing duty, or the birth of friendship. ... I have read St. John often enough, but I had never fastened on the difference between " believed Him " and " be- lieved on Him." But after this I was reading once more the note I 've referred to, and it came on me all of a flash. . . . That 's true, every word of it. I looked out all the references and saw how St. John had reached the heart of the Teacher. . . . And then that further touch in the note. . . . The phrase "believed on Him" is only used once in the Synoptic Gospels, and there most significantly of the faith of " the little ones " (Matt, xviii. 6). How interesting ! ' I then ventured a guess. ' I suppose you bought that picture about that time ? ' He looked up pleased. ' Yes ; I wonder how often I had seen the original in the National Gallery : now I " beheld " it. You know how the Revised Version tries to express the differ- ence. All those in the picture " believed on Him," of course with an everlasting devotion. . . . 152 VISIONS So I learnt the meaning of "he that belie veth on Me shall never thirst." ... It 's really true, you know, that one never thirsts here.' ' It was blazing hot to-day,' I answered. ' I know, yet it 's always cool ; it 's wonderful. One doesn't want anything more ; there are no emptinesses or longings that is, there may be just for a moment, say, on Christmas evening with a vision of the old folks at home drink- ing a health you understand ; but the Master comes with a rush and fills it all up. ... Don't laugh, but this place is all a beautiful garden, the flowers blow, the river murmurs, the trees are heavy with fruit, the cool breeze blows over the green grass : no hunger, no thirst : it 's home among God's people, with wife and children, and lands, and father and mother. It would be downright anguish to leave ; but of course I know one won't have the strength in years to come. . . . Do you remember what Jacob felt when working for Rachel ? Well, we missionaries have just that lesson to teach the world : a long life spent where it had not been easy for some to go, and " they seemed unto him but a few days for the love he had to Him." ' Then our eyes both went back to the Francia, and the rectory to me was a palace, the dried plains and prosaic township were the Garden of the Lord, and He Himself was walking among His TRANSFORMATION 153 people. For myself, I owed one more debt of gratitude to my friend ; I had learnt the mean- ing of a phrase of Scripture, and it was worth the long journeys and the day's work to note once more how a man may transfigure the earth by Divine alchemy, by the faith of the Gospel realised. It is one of the great divides in life. Happy is he who has made the discovery. XXX THE RETURN OF TALENTS ' Unto one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one.' MATT. xxv. 15. I WAS musing over experiences of youth, and there came back to me an evening in connection with the above words. I had been preaching on them in my newly acquired Hindi and with my useful stock of knowledge, well content with both, dwelling on the obvious lesson, the dread hour when we must return our talents. My Indian flock, how quiet they were ! how respect- fully they gave heed ! In front of all, as ever, old Simeon, with his keen, mystic face. He was blind ; yet how much he could see, far more than most. That night he seemed particularly interested. Our services over, I walked across to his humble abode close to the church. Sight- less as he was, he needed little aid from others. I sat me down and smoked, for I wanted him to speak first ; the cool of the evening was balm THE RETURN OF TALENTS 155 to mind as well as body. At length he turned to me. ' Padre, how many talents have you returned to the Giver of all ? ' I felt out of my depth. I knew that this saint, forty years a Christian since he parted from Islam, mighty in the spirit, one who soared into regions far above the ken of most of my own race, was dwelling on aspects of the subject I had dealt with yet quite outside my own experience. ' I don't understand, my father. I preached the sermon of a young man just now, and I have come to the aged to learn to do better. Instruct me.' The old man moved to caress my hand ; then he looked up to the stars as though he could see them, and said : ' I know not how many talents I possess ; I only know those I have returned already.' He touched his eyes rever- ently. ' Five years ago, this. Ten years ago, that,' and he touched his crippled limbs. ' Padre, I am just giving back a third. I know He is asking for it, yet I grudge it so. I have been clutching it of late. I have been angry. I cannot give it willingly even to Hun Who knows best, to my Good Physician,' and he touched his ear. ' Are you afraid of deafness?' He bowed his head ; it is an Oriental who can by one motion best express resignation. ' It is good to hear ; I have that one channel left into the heart from my fellows, from the birds 156 VISIONS and beasts, from this wonderful world ; all things have whispered to me since I could not see, and I have been almost proud of my dis- cernment. Dost thou think the Lord needeth my ewe lamb, Padre ? Wilt thou pray for me that He Who did not take Isaac will leave me my hearing ? ' I raised his hand to my lips, but I could not speak. Who was I that I should pretend to have entered such regions of experience ? ' Padre, my friend, do not grieve. Thou art young, I am old. God does not often put the burdens of the aged upon the shoulders of the young. As thou spakest in the church I blessed God for thy youth ; but for myself I could but scan the reaches of the long road I have travelled. There have been many bends, Padre. Time and again I have not been able to see any farther. I think I am approaching another bend. Yet grieve not ; I know that if He desires this talent also to be returned, I shall be able to do without it. Shall I be a burden to thee, my friend of another race ? ' I put my arms round him in a close embrace, and he understood. I should have only hurt him if I had spoken words of compliment. We were glad to be silent for awhile, and I fell to musing. I began to see how the subject of the talents broadened, deepened, lengthened out into vistas of spiritual THE RETURN OF TALENTS 157 experience. Yes, God in this life asks for talents back : we cling to them and cry that we cannot part with them. Yet, and I looked towards the form of that saint, is it not true that God keeps asking back and also keeps giving ? We don't end with the talents we began with. Those first gifts may all have been taken back and replaced by others. My father in the faith here, had he less talents or more now than in years ago ? I would ask ' My father, what other talents hast thou received, and perhaps of late ? ' 'I cannot tell, my friend ; but we both know one whom we might interrogate. Wilt thou come to her ? Wilt thou let me lean on thee ? ' So, whilst I supported him as one would have aided the beloved Apostle, we went across the Mission compound to a household hard by. Children's voices came to us and the laughter of happy people. They were finishing their meal, the father and mother, some grown-up sons and daughters, and some grandchildren. On a mat lay the grandmother propped with cushions. It was a wasted form, racked with rheumatic trouble ; but it was clear that here there was no kill- joy. She was listening to the talk, and there was no sign of discontent, no touch of peevishness or of fretful temper. She knew us. ' Welcome, Padre, and friend Simeon. Children, give the best seats to the 158 VISIONS honoured guests.' Then, after awhile, I told how I had been sitting at my old friend's feet learning of him, but that he would not answer my question. Miraim would, he said. So we had come, and I repeated my question : Does God give us more talents when He asks us to return in this life some we prize most ? The household were silent ; even the children seemed to understand ; they felt no one could answer such a question but Miraim, the aged. The old woman smiled and looked at Simeon. She pointed a finger of playful scorn at him and said : ' And thou at whose feet I have sat, thou for whose blindness I have oft been tempted to thank God since thou seest the deep things, thou who hast taught me to bless God from this mat from which I cannot rise, thou my more than friend, hast thou brought the Padre to me, a woman, a cumberer of the earth, to answer thy questions ? ' Old Simeon and Miraim talked awhile with gentle banter, but it was clear neither would answer us. Then spoke Miraim's son, a strong man, of fifty years. ' It is we, Padre, who must tell the tale, we who have watched these two whom we have reverenced for years. We have seen the angel of God come and demand back for God one talent after another, yea, in this life. We, in our ignorance, thought it shame at first thus to torture and THE RETURN OF TALENTS 159 make miserable those we loved, in whom we saw no fault. We were tempted to revile the Name of Him Who is Love. But we have watched and seen much more. The angel has returned quickly, bearing in his hands other and more precious talents. We have seen them given to these. Brighter and brighter has burnt the light in them : more and more useful have they become to us : clearer has become the road for us and our people.' ' I will get me back, Padre,' said Simeon, ' if thou wilt support my infirm- ity.' And so ended that Sunday evening. Its memories and lessons come back to me tenderly. Those who taught me that night have long been gathered to their rest, their tale of talents returned and beginning again, all completed. But the lesson abides. XXXI TYPES OF SAINTLINESS ' I am glorified in them.' JOHN xvii. 10. THE senior tutor was my relative. It was he who invited me, in my freshman's term, with others, to meet two old members of the college. They had gone one to India, the other to Australia ; and I had heard of their good reputation. There were some twenty of us, and all, I believe, had expressed a desire to take Holy Orders. For my part, it was my first close introduction to missionaries. Each of them was to be given half an hour to say what he liked, and then questions could be put. The first thing that struck me about the two was that either they had chosen their continents to suit their temperaments, or else the continents had entered, as it were, into their very vitals and had coloured and shaped them to good purpose. The Australian spoke first. I watched him with delight as he told us stories of adventure, as TYPES OF SAINTLINESS 161 often against himself as not ; he had much to say of the good to be discovered beneath a bad exterior, the strenuous life of shearing-sheds and mining camps and so forth : then he waxed tender over neglected children, and toiling women, and stricken men dying bravely like Englishmen ; and again, of the evil and greed and selfishness of men. To me his character revealed something as follows : ' This man has been a real priest of the Church, witnessing well for his Master ; he is true as steel, tender as well as strong, a terror to evil-doers, but beloved of good men and of women and children, and dogs and horses.' I could see that a wave of desire to serve God in Australia passed over the assembled company. Then it was the turn of the other to speak, but what a strange contrast he presented ! Evidently he was some years older than the other, and no one had enjoyed the Australian stories more than he. But his own was an eager face, with fine-drawn lines, and eyes that dreamed ; he made me think of a poet's countenance, of ideals far outstretched and of spiritual apprehension. He took us, of course, into a strange world : it was like walking in a tropical garden where every plant had an unfamiliar shape. We young English fellows listened with wonder to the totally different 162 VISIONS views of life in the regions where this man laboured. The innate disbelief in the person- ality of God or of man, the distaste for life or it was nothing but sadness and longing for virtual annihilation ; so far we were inclined to be interested and yet slightly contemptuous. Then he proceeded to tell of their idea of saint- liness ; that it meant the surrender of every- thing for God, all possessions, all human relationships, keeping nothing back, not even or daily bread naught but one garment and one brass pot for alms. He said that the Oriental would quickly understand the Lord's command to the rich young man : it was meant literally, it was the accepted type of saintliness. So also with hospitality, the call upon a man was complete ; you must feed and house anyone or any number, no matter at what inconveni- ence : and so he led us to realise something of the idealism of the Eastern, of the fineness of his apprehensions, the delicacy of his manners, and his repugnance to many of our hard Western ways, whether jocular or serious. At the last he said he had himself been led to live the Eastern life in order to become a brother in the East, and thus to introduce the Lord to the people of India. Again the impression made was something as follows : ' Here is a man of God indeed : how much he has done of TYPES OF SAINTLINESS 163 which I have no conception ; is this the true, the only following of the Lord ? ought we all to adopt the Eastern form of saintliness and renunciation ? ' I don't think many questions were asked when he ceased speaking. The impact upon us by these true priests was too strong for aught but quiet thought before speech came. As they all left the tutor signed to me to stay ; besides myself there was a young fellow of the College. It was the latter who broke the silence. ' I was thinking of the words, " I am glorified in them." What do they mean if we take those two men as examples ? ' The elder man said : ' I think our Cambridge prophet is surely right, if you want a word to explain " glorified," I think it is " revealed." " I am revealed in them " ; it is not the same phrase, of course, no two words mean precisely the same thing ; but it has a sufficiently awful meaning to make us pause. All good men reveal something of the Lord : these two men help us to see that.' Then I spoke : ' How can both those men reveal the Lord ? They are so unlike ; they seem to live in different worlds. Somehow I began to get ashamed of Australian bush life in a parson, however good he may be ; it seemed a poor thing beside that ideal saintliness of the M 2 164 VISIONS East. I seemed to see the Bible, and the Lord and His Apostles, in one, not so much in the other.' The young don by my side showed sympathy. But the old tutor turned round and stretched out his arms : ' How wonderful is the revelation of Christ : it is His glory ; it is so vast, so impossible to grasp by one human being, by one race or nation. The races stand round the Lord, and all note something in Him others miss. Two races can be standing side by side, and they will be as different as Martha from Mary. " Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister Mary " ; don't forget that. I like to see ' and there was a twinkle in his eye as he said it ' that Martha is put first there. Certainly we English are Marthas if the Indians are Marys. Have you ever thought of the limita- tions of Mary ? Of course, there were plenty of them. But look at what we may call " tropical saintliness." How much climate has to do with its special form. How could you give up most of your clothes ? Does your food grow ready on trees all the year round ? How can we here live the simple life as an Oriental can ? Is it the only view of saintliness that married life is impossible, that children are im- possible ? What of the view that a man cannot remain a rich man and use his money as a sacred trust if he is to be called a saint ? You said TYPES OF SAINTLINESS 165 just now that you noted tremendous contrasts between those two. Tell me, don't you see a striking likeness also ? Is it not the same Christ revealed in both ? And so wonderfully adapted to completely different surroundings ? What delights me is the fact that those two, so unlike in temperament and in their spheres, are both Englishmen and both Christ revealers. It proves what a wide range of sympathy we are capable of ; how great, therefore, is our respon- sibility for glorifying the Lord.' He ceased : and I gazed into the fire perplexed. The tutor saw it and laughed : ' No wonder you are per- plexed ; but if you will enter into life you will plunge deeper into mysteries. I think you will come to delight in them ; it puts you in your right place as always ignorant in the face of the Truth. One thing I know : Christ has been revealed in both those splendid fellows.' And so said I as I went to my rooms. XXXII RENUNCIATION ' Whosoever he be of you that renounceth not all that he hath, he cannot be My disciple.' LUKE xiv. 33. ' TELL me of Jack,' I said. Then I was dismayed at my temerity. It was a subject locked up in the heart of my revered friend, this noble-looking woman with so much spiritual past written on her face. I was about to apolo- gise, but she turned to me and said, ' I didn't think I should ever speak of it, but perhaps I ought. The story of an old woman's heart may help you, my dear. ' He was my only one, and delicate in child- hood. My early married life is all bound up with his care : and he was so affectionate, so honest. His ordination was a natural step, and I rejoiced most of all, perhaps, because I said I should now keep him near me as long as I lived. I dreamt of rectories and deaneries RENUNCIATION 167 and what not. Then came the day when, after influenza in his parish, he came to spend a quiet week. Sunday was fine excuse these details, they are not trivial to me he almost stayed at home from church, but at length determined to come, as he said, to keep me company. That sermon: a young missionary preached, but not for any mission, just deep into principles, and evidently he had proved what he said. I happened to turn to Jack, and there was a look on his face. I did not analyse it, but a pang went through me : it left me bewildered. I said nothing, nor did Jack. I almost longed for him to return to his parish to immerse himself in his work. He said nothing in his letters for some weeks, and slowly the band round my heart relaxed. Then one day I carelessly opened his letter. It came at an unusual time. This is how it began : " Darling, This will reach you in the afternoon ; not at breakfast time. I am to be a missionary. I know it : there is no help for it : it is what we know as ' a call.' I don't know that it is my wish, but a trumpet has sounded for me : that is all I can say." I needn't repeat the rest, nor need I dwell upon the succeeding weeks. You have never seen me in a rage ? No ? Perhaps you smile at my saying I was like a wild beast ; but I was. And Jack never lost 168 VISIONS patience ; sometimes I almost drove him out of the house, but his eyes never lost their steadiness. My husband was very silent. I believe he felt it quite as much as I did, but, man like, he faced it more quietly. I used to say to him, " You are not a mother." He only became kinder. I think he knew that Jack's going was inevitable. I wrote to the preacher the sort of letter a lioness would write who has been robbed of her cub, and his answer was gentle, but firm. So those weeks passed, and I could take little interest in my boy's preparations, so hot did the fire burn ; these things are the stripes I have borne countless times since then. There was a " dismissal," but I couldn't go, nor even to the ship to see him off. One day my husband took up a letter at breakfast and looked at me. I seized it and ran out of the room, and he, poor man, had to wait till his return from the office in the evening before he had a glimpse of it, but he said nothing. Jack wrote very happily, and he had splendid friends out there, but my fierce love grudged him to them.' She was silent for awhile, then she continued. ' The telegram : it said he had been ill a few days, and I knew it was to prepare me for death. The next day the second message, " Jack entered into rest." Don't ask me, my dear, what happened during the next weeks, RENUNCIATION 169 for I do not know. I was ill they tell me my brain had been affected. But I pass over the days of dull numbness. The young missionary wrote to me ; many wrote, and there was of course a great difference between the letters ; a few arrested me. So it went on till the day of what I call my conversion. It was on New Year's Eve at 9 P.M. at late Evensong. " Unto Him that loveth us " that was the subject. Something broke in me, and I remembered Him who gave all for man : the old words had new meaning. Tears came in floods summer rains and for the first time ; for I had not cried at all yet except in rage. I heard a still small voice. Up till now it had been storm and hail and ice. I repented me in dust and ashes. I tried to touch the hem of His garment, and wondered whether I might. I saw myself all that, no doubt, others had seen in me all along. Yes, it was my conversion, and at 6 A.M. on New Year's morning, on the Feast of the Circumcision, at the altar I gave up my Jack, of my own will, to Him who had given him to me for twenty-six years, as an instalment. I had not lost him. My husband said nothing, but he understood. That night I saw my Jack. Yes ; I dare say I should have seen him before had I not, like a cuttle-fish, darkened all the waters round me. He came to me in my 170 VISIONS dreams, looking like a radiant soldier, and smiled. There was a glory on his face as though he had met the Lord ; and I knew that I had been a foolish and short-sighted woman. I saw that there was a greater love than mine, for me, for Jack, for the great world, for every race. My repentance has, of course, been lifelong. Times out of number I have thought of my errors, of my having refused my lad for the greatest warfare of all. I have been shamed by mothers who gladly saw their sons depart to the army and navy and civil service and trade. My Jack I grudged to his Saviour.' ' Have you helped others ? ' ' Several times they have sent for me. On the last occasion it was a case as bad as my own. The storm raged just as with me, and I could only sit beside that mother for an hour. I never spoke a word, but only looked my sympathy. I believe it had an effect.' ' Can you be glad that all happened as it did?' ' Of course that is a hard question ; but I almost think I am. I am closer to my Jack now than ever I was of old. And as my time of departure comes, I love to think that my only son will be with Him to welcome a foolish, visionless mother. Yes ; I am glad my treasure is above. I am glad Jack fell in the forefront RENUNCIATION 171 of the battle, and perhaps He Who took my boy will let me be near him in the land of meetings. My experience is far from novel, yet it may help some one in a younger genera- tion. And now leave me, my dear.' I did, and blessed God. XXXIII THE LIGHT THAT OVERCAME ' And the light shineth in the darkness ; and the darkness overcame it not.' JOHN i. 5. You will note that I have chosen the marginal reading ' overcame,' not ' apprehended.' In this I follow Bishop Westcott ; almost all other modern divines lean to the second of the two, asserting that verses 5 and 10 are parallels in general meaning : ' The darkness appre- hended it not,' ' His own received Him not.' Westcott is in line with the Greek Fathers : the others with the Latins. ' Overcame not ' is a note of triumph : ' apprehended ' means sorrow. The parallel passage in favour of ' overcame ' is xii. 35 : ' Walk while ye have the light, that darkness overtake you not.' The verse as given above is an epitome of the spiritual history of the world. It states facts which are points of light, but wrapped round in mystery. But, you ask, ' I thought THE LIGHT THAT OVERCAME 173 revelation was to disperse mystery.' Yes and no. In a dense fog in London a lantern is most useful, for it prevents you falling into numberless dangers, and takes you home. But it makes the fog infinitely more mysterious : the waves of vapour roll and disperse and take fantastic shapes and suggest depths, and at times you think you would prefer a darkness which did not feed the imagination quite so much as does the light acting on the fog. Just so acts revelation with many : not with all, for some walk thankfully on with their lantern, dwelling on the light rather than on the surrounding gloom ; others are chiefly en- gaged in watching the evolutions of the fog. I do not think they can help it, for it is the way their mind works ; and such shall have trouble. So it is that some are always noting the ad- vantages of their position and of what they possess ; others dwell on the disadvantages and crave for something else. I am sorry for these last. So in regard to the words above. You will either accept them as a blessed revela- tion and be content, or else you will say that such revelation makes things worse for you suggests more difficulties than it solves. A good deal depends upon age as well as on temperament how you take it. The older you are, the deeper your content will be. On the 174 VISIONS other hand, you may call the Bible a provoking book because it takes so much for granted God, good, evil. You want to know more about origins ; you have twenty tremendous questions to ask. Or you may be unutterably thankful for the light given, and rest content. Indeed, it does seem childish to be always wishing for more, or to be complaining because half-knowledge makes you hungry. Now take four facts out of the above verse tremendous facts. (i) ' The Light.' This with the definite article is the Christian phrase : ' light ' we share with all the world. With us light has become personal : we have heard the Voice of One Who calls Himself the Light, the Way, the Truth, the Life. All that is good in the world gropes after God some in every nation ; everyone in some degree perhaps turns towards light : we believe that ' The Light ' is God in Jesus Christ : in human form, by speech, by action, in death, in life risen, we know Him. We, His witnesses, are illuminated (verse 9) by Him and are to stand as lighthouses in every land. There are endless mysteries arising from this revelation. Why is it so hard for many to believe ? Why do any scoff ? Why did He not come personally into every land ? Why did He not stay longer, or permit more of His THE LIGHT THAT OVERCAME 175 words to be recorded, or leave us more com mands ? You can be content or you can make yourself miserable, according as you look thankfully at ' The Light' or turn to the shadowy mysteries all around. (2) ' Shineth. ' The Light is a positive thing : it invades the realm of darkness Ever since He came all men who have in any sense met Him must reckon with Him. For a short time men in some ages have begun to laugh at ' The Light ' : it has only been for a short time, and even then it was caused by the slumber of His professing people : suddenly a beam flashed and laughter vanished. About a century ago York Minster was on fire : it was night-time and the woodwork of the choir was ablaze : crowds were outside gazing : round the cathedral was drawn up a regiment quartered in York : the men were rougher then than now, less educated, less taught. Suddenly with a crash there fell in a mass of woodwork inside the choir and the flames burst up, illuminating a painted window with a picture of the Lord upon the Cross. Then a remarkable thing hap- pened. Suddenly, unconsciously, every soldier stood at attention and saluted. Yes, it is a fact not to be ignored, ' The Light shineth.' (3) 'In the Darkness.' Revelation gives us two sets of facts without giving us half as much 176 VISIONS explanation about them as we want. It is as though the light just made them visible. St. John gives us these facts in contrasted words : Darkness, light: love, hate: holiness, sin. If you choose you can lose yourself in the dark- ness, become terrified by the hate, and fall to the lowest depths in the sin. You can ask questions till your reason is imperilled. Did the darkness always exist ? Who made it ? Who created evil ? Will it ever cease ? Is God but one of two gods ? Some think that more is not revealed about this darkness because man's mind could not endure such realities. He Who saw as we cannot see, Who was Divine as well as human, sweated drops of blood when He saw, cried with a loud voice, was troubled in spirit. God in His mercy revealed the bright- ness and glory of ' The Light ' at the same time as He gave us deep glimpses into the darkness. The Gospel deepens the light and the darkness. Here again, therefore, you must choose on which side you lean, towards ' The Light ' or towards the horror of the darkness : I mean, that you can dwell habitually either upon the one revelation or the other, drawn one way more than the other. As I have said already, age helps us mercifully not to care to peer into the darkness : we lose our curiosity that way. As in the story of Undine, the forest at night THE LIGHT THAT OVERCAME 177 is full of noises : once they frightened us, and yet a strange curiosity drew us forth to examine what the beings could be that dwelt in those recesses : now we know they are there, but we are content to remain in the lighted home doing our duty as the light shows it. (4) ' The Darkness overcame it not.' He who wrote these words had an awful apprehension of the power of darkness. You see, he seems as if he half thought darkness were the stronger. He might have said, ' The light conquered the darkness ' ; but he does not : he takes it the other way, as though he meant, ' The darkness is a tremendous force, but even though it is so mighty it could not overcome the light.' Perhaps it would be as well if you were to read St. John's Gospel with a deeper realisation of what that Apostle thought of the massed forces of darkness, hate, and sin, and feel more keenly the glory of his Message. Sure I am that the final conviction of the greatest saints often ratifies the view taken here of the darkness by the Apostle. At forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, at eighty, it is still a wonderful thing to us that we stand. It seems incredible, so great are the temptations : in the holiest offices, as priests, as missionaries, as God's workers, the old sins appear again and again to tempt us : they never seem to die : N 178 VISIONS the utmost we can ask for at times is, ' Lord, I have not much longer to live : in mercy keep me from shaming Thy Cause or disgracing Thy Church.' Let us accept the Message with deep humility. The darkness overcame not the Church of God: it overcame not of old the servants of God : ' My Friend, my Master, my Stay and Saviour, let not the darkness overcome me. I have to pass Thy light on to others. Extinguish not my candle.' XXXIV A WARMING APPARATUS ' None of us liveth to himself, and none dieth to himself.' ROM. xiv. 7. ONE of the most interesting objects in our new S.P.G. House is the warming, apparatus. Down in the depths there is an iron furnace, ridiculously small in size, with apparently a quite inadequate 'jacket' for water. The warm water rises and passes through room after room, through sets of radiators, and at length returns again to renew itself at the furnace, but not to rest ; this hot current is the life-stream in the office on a winter's day, perpetually in motion ; nearly all the rooms depend upon it, some very large, others much smaller ; the great board-room, the chapel, the open hall, these look for warmth to this wonderful system. In a space of about one hour a drop of hot water makes the complete circuit and returns to its starting-point. But, again, every set of i8o VISIONS radiators in the passages and rooms has a tap by which you can turn the current off from your own coil if you so desire it. It does not check the flow of water ; you are simply left out for the time. What a delightful arrangement ! you can do just as you like ! you need not consider anyone else ! It is just the answer to such questions which makes me assert that one of the most interesting objects in S.P.G. House is the warming apparatus. The other day I found the attendant raising his fires in order to get more heat ; the glass showed a temperature of 180. I asked him why he was so anxious about his heat. He said : ' Two or three of them have turned off their radiators and have made the water in them cold ; now they want heat, because they are turned on again, and I expect I am making the rest of the house very uncomfortably warm, for I have to heat up all that cold water of theirs.' So it does make a very great difference whether you turn off your radiator ; the whole house will find it out, if two or three so act, when you wish to benefit once more by the warming system. ' None of us liveth to himself.' Your radiator discharges its cold stream into the pipes ; the whole house is affected j the attendant rushes to his furnace and heaps on the coke and makes some others unhappy with A WARMING APPARATUS 181 a sudden access of heat until you once more accept your place as one member of a house of workers. It is a parable widely applicable. I confine myself to the plainest lesson at Advent-tide. Do not expect a perfect earth or a system which has no discomforts. The joy of leaders in the State as well as in the Church, of heads of Brotherhoods and Communities especially, consists in the possession of workers who make the least possible of the disagree- ables. These are discounted beforehand. I know some who will certainly stay at their posts till they are told to move ; nor does it occur to them to think of any other line of con- duct as possible. They are always perfectly happy in their work, not restless, never desiring change, since the work before them is God-given. That is their characteristic attitude towards the present. These seem to be saying always : ' Is there any place where no one else will go, that is the place for me ? I should love to fill such a nook,' and their price is above rubies. I know others, good people in their way, usually very highly strung, who cannot stay in any post for more than about three years. By that time insuperable difficulties always appear, which to others are the inevitable details of a happy life. These are the excellent people who give so much trouble to the attendant of i82 VISIONS the warming apparatus. The attendant in turn has to make a good many other people very uncomfortable to make up for the whims and fancies of those who cannot put up with the ways of any system without adopting a line of their own shutting themselves off at one time, coming in with a rush of cold water at another, never ' continuing in one stay.' My general advice to all missionaries is : ' Use your radiators if the whole house needs them, and fall in with the general system. If you need coolness, open your window and let in the air, and if your window faces your Jerusalem, and if you will pray as Daniel did, so much the better.' Perhaps I ought to say in all serious- ness that this is purely a parable, there is no reflection in this ' Message ' upon the staff of S.P.G. House. I prophesy also that during this winter we shall have visitors in the base- ment. XXXV THE GIFT OF GOD ' If thou knewest the gift of God.' JOHN iv. 10. ' THE gift.' The word used for ' gift ' in this place in Greek is only found here in the Gospels. Three other words are used for ' gift.' Here are all four of them doron, dorema, dosis, dorea and all must have their delicate differences. It is the last of these, dorea, which is used above. 1 do not think it is fanciful to say that there is a peculiar thrill of deep feeling in this word for ' gift.' Note its special use elsewhere. Acts ii. 38, St. Peter's first proclamation of the new power : ' Ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost ' ; viii. 20, St. Peter's horror at Simon Magus : ' Thou hast thought to obtain the gift of God with money ' ; x. 45, St. Peter's awe at the universality of Divine Love : ' On the Gentiles also was poured out the gift of the Holy Ghost ' ; Heb. vi. 4 : ' and tasted of the heavenly gift ' ; 2 Cor. ix. 15, St. Paul's rapture, ' his unspeak- able gift.' Perhaps best of all it comes out in 184 VISIONS the adverb when St. Paul speaks of what God freely gives. It is dorean, ' without money and without price.' Well, what is this gift ? ' All that is freely offered in the Son ' (Westcott). Could we now see as we shall see, we should be ever, as it were, in the attitude of the twenty- four elders who cast down their crowns and cried night and day ; we should be all active missionaries, shyness gone, dulness unknown, self all subdued, and all because one mighty emotion of gratitude would expel every lesser feeling. Over there kneels one do you see him ? at the altar-rail on Christmas morning bent down to earth with the exceeding great- ness of the realisation : ' The Father has sent the Son to save me, me and all the world.' Or when, in the silence of that early morning hour, suddenly the choir bursts into, ' Hark ! the herald angels sing,' very real seems to be the gift of the Incarnation. There is another on New Year's Eve surveying all the past : ' He has known the worst of me every thought, motive, action yet has He never lost faith in me, my Master, my King.' Over there is a group of them at a ' Quiet Day.' Listen to the voices of their souls : ' He redeemed me and all mankind.' ' He pulled me out of the horrible pit, out of the mire and clay : He for- THE GIFT OF GOD 185 gave me.' ' He led me through the valley of the shadow of death, and at the time I never knew the dangers from which He shielded me. He it was Who sheltered me.' ' For fifty years I have fought the fight under my Captain ; He has not disowned His soldier with battered armour and mangled limbs.' ' He has led my sons and daughters one by one through perilous places and established their feet.' ' My flock, my beautiful flock : He has led them through their wilderness to the promised land.' ' He has saved my nation in spite of its sin, and has given to it a glorious mission.' All rapture of devotion, all thrill in using dorea, for the gift must begin with a personal meaning. You must prove your God and Lord for your- self first, then for all the world. With almost all, alas ! the thrill comes and goes. I have only known two who had been transfused for life and at all times by the splendour of the gift : they were both Harrow masters. I see also the same look in the faces of Madonnas and Saints of the old painters. Most of us have something of which we can hardly speak. The memory of it silences us, or forces a tear, or brings a lump into the throat or a sob to our lips : the name of one dead, a joy, a great salvation, a pain, a sorrow, a weight lifted away. Certainly we missionaries ought 186 VISIONS ever to use this dorea as our word. If we might dare to do it reverently, we should use the Lord's own words for one who knows Him not : ' If thou knewest the gift of God,' and the light in our eyes and the deep note in our voices ought to arrest all this with perfect humility and reticent respectfulness. Yet we must not be amazed at failure. How- ever deeply the gift has affected us, there is not in thousands any desire to possess, no growth of the spirit, or spiritual trial or need. Just so you may wander through great picture galleries with one whose art soul is not awake : he admires the wrong things and is very curious about frames. Yet deep down somewhere is the thirst for God, a sense of sin, and then at last the joy of salvation in its fullest, deepest sense ; the gift from God Himself, too full, too free for any mere human hand to give. It is a Divine thing ; it is Christ Himself with all He is and means and claims of us. I am called to present this gift to all men, but do I know ' the gift of God ' myself ? Has it expelled from me all low-born aims, hopes, ideals, pleasures ? The question presses. XXXVI WORDS AND WORKS ' The words that I say unto you I speak not from myself : but the Father abiding in me doeth His works.' JOHN xiv. 10. WORDS, works. ' The former were a revela- tion of character, the latter primarily of power ; and naturally the former have the precedence.' It set me thinking. Such a verse as the above is probably a condensation of many more words : they give the essence of a discourse ; and it is a fact that here ' words ' take pre- cedence of ' works,' though both are divine, both miraculous. But the need of man varies. If you were to put the question to the vote you would get different answers from your most spiritual friends to the question, ' Which to you are most divine, the words or the works ; which do you place first as proof of Him ? ' Nor should either side feel shame. It depends upon your age which of these most perfectly reveals Who He is. Gradually you change i88 VISIONS your opinion, or you may go back to one you held but had given up. Or it depends upon temperament, some good Christians put one of these miracles before the other all their lives. One is their anchor more than the other. It only means that you have two anchors, and for you the wind may blow persistently from one quarter all your life. Such differences of temperament may be brought out by the test question, ' Which to you is the divinest proof, St. Luke's Gospel or St. John's ? ' Some have quite made up their minds, but no one can do aught but listen respectfully to either answer. The older man indeed might propound a riddle as his answer. ' Canst thou sever the Lord in two and choose between the parts ? ' Certainly some nations would be prone to put one of these miracles before the other. The Anglo-Saxons would be clearly divided, each side holding strongly its own opinion ; India would place words before works, as in the verse above ; China would, I think, reverse that order ; the child races would probably choose works before words. Again it depends upon the age in which we live, how we choose : the eighteenth century put works first ; the nineteenth chose the words; the twentieth what shall our grandchildren answer ? Nor does it depend upon ourselves alone how we WORDS AND WORKS 189 choose. The enemy has his say also in the matter : he too, like the wise steward, brings out of his treasures things new and old, for evil purposes. Our protection sometimes depends upon the ' words,' and at times upon the ' works,' and of course in the end on both, for they cannot be severed. But is not this problem reproduced in another ? ' Which do you place first, the Bible or the Church ? ' Some are quite con- fident and take a side for ever. But history is sure to rebuke them. There are times when one must be put first for the evil of the days, either the Bible or the Church. Does this puzzle you ? Nay, it is good to be humbled : to learn that there are many questions to which there is no direct answer, if you go beneath the obvious surface of things. Yet the words of the Lord do stand in a certain order ; ' words ' are placed first. I will give you, therefore, a dream of George Macdonald's from ' Thomas Wingfold, Curate.' No comment will be needed ; let him that reads realise once more how delicate was the spiritual perception of the man who wrote the following : ' I had been saying to myself ere I fell asleep ... is it not possible that yet in some ancient convent . . . some one of the original gospel IQO VISIONS manuscripts may lie ... if the eye of man might but see thee ? . . . I dreamed I was in a desert ... I was journeying towards a cer- tain Armenian convent ... I had good hope I should find the original manuscript of the Fourth Gospel . . . I knew it was the monastery . . . and as I journeyed it swelled as huge as a hill against the sky. At length I came up to the door, iron clamped ... it stood wide open. I entered . . . but no priest nor guide came to me, and I saw no man, nor looked for none. ... At last I stood before a door hung with a curtain of rich workmanship, torn in the middle from top to bottom. Through the rent I passed into a cell. In the cell stood a table. On the table was a closed book. Oh, how my heart beat . . , what doubts and fears would not this lovely volume lay at rest for ever . . . there was a man who did hear the Master say the words, and did set them down. ... At last with sudden daring I made a step towards the table, and bending with awe, out- stretched my hand to lay it upon the book. But ere my hand reached it, another hand from the opposite side of the table appeared upon it an old, blue veined, but powerful hand. I looked up. There stood the beloved disciple. His countenance was as a mirror from which shone back the face of the Master. Slowly he lifted WORDS AND WORKS 191 the book, and turned away. Then first I saw behind him, as it were, an altar whereon a fire of wood was burning, and a pang of dismay shot to my heart, for I knew what he was about to do. He laid the book on the burning wood, and regarded it with a smile as it shrunk and shrivelled and smouldered to ashes. Then he turned to me and said, while a perfect heaven of peace shone in his eyes : " Son of man, the Word of God liveth and abideth for ever, not in the volume of the book, but in the heart of the man that in love obeyeth Him." And therewith I awoke weeping but with the lesson of my dream.' Yes, with deep content I turn me back to ' words ' and to ' works.' Both are miraculous when there is at length some affinity between us and the spiritual. I have heard of those who look on St. John's writing as childish, discon- nected stuff. I have lived to see miracles on every page so satisfying that my soul faints within me to think that the Lord has been so gracious as to speak thus to man. I have come to see that it is well we possess no more words than are recorded ; for in them we have a treasure inexhaustible, and each year reveals it more fully. Blessed be God. XXXVII ANXIETY FOR ALL THE CHURCHES ' Besides those things that are without, there is that which presseth upon me daily, anxiety for all the churches.? 2 COR. xi. 28. I. INDIA IT is not St. Paul who speaks, but one who has often brooded over the Apostle's words. He is the white, superintending missionary of a great district in India, with dozens of villages in his charge, hundreds of catechists and school children, and some Indian clergy. ' I was confident enough in my methods once : how different it is to-day after twenty years, and as I draw nearer to the time when I am to be judged by Him Who makes no mistake. I will set down to-day what are my chief cares and my chief failures, and what have been often, and still are, my perplexities. And, first, my growing care. Twenty years ago my flock were submissive. I was white and they were dark : that was enough, and they ANXIETY FOR THE CHURCHES 193 gave me unquestioned reverence. It was as though I had been old and they mere children. To-day the seed I have been sowing is beginning to bear fruit : I am not so wise in my people's eyes as they once thought me. They have become critical, not only of myself, but of my race. Formerly they may have done it secretly, to-day it is open to all. It is just like the growing sons and daughters waxing restive under the paternal rule when that rule is not perhaps adapting itself to the passing of childhood. And in our case -there is a further conviction forced on us. We are not related as parents and children, but as a white race to a dark one ; this fact tells both ways among my fellow Christians, my children in the Lord. The good and gentle and courteous and sympathetic among the white race are more loved : the coarse and unsympathetic and arrogant are more hated. I should have no fear at all. for the future were all members of my race in India all they should be real Christian gentlemen and ladies, with imagination and good manners. Nay, for us then there would be the fairest prospect in this land that ever opened before any race. The twentieth century might be a golden age, for I have never seen any race so open to the effects of a loving nature : their reverence quickly amounts to worship ; they 194 VISIONS are prepared to trust the good Englishman to an extent that makes us ashamed. We are not worthy of such a respect. But the other side is true also. I see the affection of a most loving people slipping away from us because of the hard, arrogant, unsympathetic persons of white skin. It is of little use pointing to the justice of the Government. Strange to say, the acts of Government arouse no gratitude : it is too impersonal a thing for this race ; what it needs is the personal embodiment of justice and courtesy, living at hand, visible every day in action. And there is a new dread which disturbs me. Hitherto the name of the Lord Jesus Christ has ever been held in respect by the Indian race. He has in the past been felt to be not English, not Jewish, not anything but the possession of every race. He has been Indian for the Indian. Yes, but now as the national feeling here grows up I am beginning to fear lest my own people may begin to look upon the Lord as English, as an alien in India, as a badge of a domination now felt more than ever. I am beginning to preach more insistently, and perhaps to them wearisomely, about the duty of looking more and more to Him, and to ourselves as very poor followers of Him as warnings, perhaps, and not examples. The care which haunts me is lest I should see tens of thousands of Indians saying to me : " Yes, ANXIETY FOR THE CHURCHES 195 you have given us Christ, it is true, but not in Christ's way. You have wrapped Him in a European costume. We want Him dressed as an Eastern." There is still time to save the name of the Lord from reproach, if only the very best clergy and women were to be sent here ; if the noblest and most Christian soldiers and civilians, if all white men, were told that this is naturally a religious race and loves a religious man best. If no one were permitted to land in India to take a position of influence who was not sympathetic and kind, then the history of our work in India has the best pages yet to be written. And again my spirit fails and I find myself murmuring, " O England, England, if thou hadst known in this day, even thou, the things which belong unto peace ! " The world to be brought to thy feet by thy kindness and sympathy the peace of the world secured by the cement of thy attitude towards every race ! Dost thou know the time of thy visitation ? After this the feeling of terror deepens when I turn to the personal question. Was it this personal aspect which made up a great part of the anguish of spirit in St. Paul ? The thought that in my sphere I myself am the special candle of Christ. And if my light be darkness ? The general to whom is committed the entire force of the Empire, and is at length face to face with the great act of his life, involving 196 VISIONS the ruin of his country or her freedom, and yet must act and accept the consequences ; the statesman who rises to propose a measure which he knows will revolutionise the country ! but what if it is a fatal step ? Do not they feel terror ? I dread for myself ; I fear to read some day the verdict of history upon those whom I supported in policy. ' ' The failure of the Church in India can be dated from the time when The pressure to-day, for example, is all for relaxing the traditions of the ancient order of the Church in the name of charity. Is it not the greatest injustice to the Church to take away its stability ? I know not if I think the thoughts of the Apostle after him, but I cannot doubt that one who lived so near to the beginning of things, and was a pioneer and had to lay foundations, and knew that a slight error in direction would in the course of centuries be magnified into quite the wrong direction ; who had to watch doctrine, practice, Church order ; who had to be bold to denounce and gentle to win back, has kneaded anguish and wakeful nights, and fear and perplexity, and self-dis- trust and prayers for light, and the desire to run away from duty, into the phrase, " The care of all the Churches." Yet he fought the good fight : he " stood." So, O Blessed Master and Lord, may I, since Thou art near.' XXXVIII ANXIETY FOR ALL THE CHURCHES ' Besides those things that are without, there is that which presseth upon me daily, anxiety for all the churches.' 2 COR. xi. 28. II. AFRICA COME, land on the African Continent. The atmosphere is that of the hottest forcing- house at Kew, humid, relaxing to such an extent that force seems to depart from the white man. What poets sing of the Lotos Eaters becomes a dread reality : the body craves for listlessness ; great problems, far-reaching schemes, fade. One almost asks oneself, Does anything matter, physical, intellectual, spiritual ? You meet the white missionary and long to ask him his life experience : it must really be something very different from that of an English parish. Let us put questions to him. ' Look back, sir, sum up your experiences : give us them.' 198 VISIONS He looks at you first to see whether you are a scoffer, and want to hear of failures that you may rejoice and make the most of them, or whether you are sympathetic and believe in standing on the Lord's side in the world-wide battle, and will grow more sympathetic and more bent on the Lord's work as the reality is presented. Noting that you are one of the Lord's band his countenance clears and he begins. ' I remember my first impressions how eager I was, what romance there seemed to be in the people, the interest of the work : that was thirty years ago. I was charmed with my flock, their bright responsiveness in church and school was a real refreshment to one brought up in stiff English ways. I thought they were so much better Christians than those at home. It was the first stage. Then came the next : I was horrified I found some of those who were most regular in services and at communions indulging secretly in what you would call the great sins : weakness of moral fibre appeared on every hand. One day I began to be afraid to lift the veil for fear I should find the whole Christian life behind it rotten. Strictness in Church accounts and all money matters seemed an unnecessary grace, and the atmosphere of life here became gloomy. The pendulum had swung far in the opposite ANXIETY FOR THE CHURCHES 199 direction. It was the despair of half-knowledge following upon the unreasonableness of first impressions. This was twenty-five years ago. Long ago, I hope, I have happily arrived at the third stage the middle position. This is not an English race either in appearance or char- acteristics. Our strong qualities are what they lack : their vivacity and pleasantness and simple faith, born of the sun and the land, is not our possession. It is all the more interesting to be here : it is a perpetually unfolding problem full of delight. I love my people, and if their characteristics often excite my sense of humour you will not think the worse of me for that ; and I have learnt how wonderfully the power of the Spirit can work on the human heart in any clime. I have seen miracles of grace equalling any elsewhere in the world.' ' And what is the greatest anxiety ? It may be unknown to your flock, yet what, deep down in your heart, what is the petition most often in your prayers ? ' He paused awhile, musing : at length he said : ' It is of course no easy thing to answer, but upon the whole I think the recurring anxiety refers to discipline within the Church. An outsider can have no idea of the magnitude of the work set before a Christian in this part of Africa in calling him to build up a people that will keep the Ten 200 VISIONS Commandments. I have heard a great African traveller say that ninety per cent, of the white men who come to live in humid Africa emerge worse than when they went in. I don't say it is true it may be more a brilliant than an accurate statement yet knowing as I do the effect here of enervation on our race, I am arrested by that man's experience. Then I turn with increased sympathy and tenderness to my flock, whose ancestors have lived in just the atmosphere which lowers the moral nature of the Englishman in certain directions : I see how long must be the battle ; I see the work laid upon me ; I am no longer surprised at the lapses which once horrified me.' ' But tell me, sir, have you ever been tempted to condone these offences, to come to believe that they are racial, hardly wrong ; that the Ten Command- ments of the Christian Church in England and the Sermon on the Mount need not run quite exactly in Africa ? ' A chastened look came on his face as he proceeded : ' You little know the awful strength of that temptation ; you have put your finger upon the raw place. Yes, indeed, the tempta- tion recurs again and again. I go to visit a congregation after twelve months' absence : I find the leaders have fallen into sin against the Seventh Commandment. Everything seems ''ANXIETY FOR THE CHURCHES 201 all*to"*pieces. As I inquire into it I feel that I ought to banish half the congregation from the church till they have repented in a very practical manner. Yet this is the very place which was so highly praised in the last Report : it brought us increased funds. What wUl be the result if I now say that the congregation has for the present almost ceased to exist ? You may be surprised to hear it, but I have been tempted to let the worship continue as though nothing had happened, on the ground that it may be better for these children to worship with their sin on them than to shut the door on their chief Christian means of grace. It is not hard to make some sort of case for it : to say that they are like the Jews in the Old Testament ; that for the hardness of their hearts I ought not to be hard on impurity and dishonesty and the like. And then I bethink me of the lack of dis- cipline at home, and how these things are often condoned because a man is wealthy or of high rank, and I am tempted to ask why I should exact a higher level of life from these people lately taken from debased forms of heathenism. And again, who am I, who know my own mani- fold sins, to take these people after a few years of experience of the Faith, and banish them to the west door while I partake of the Sacrament in the chancel ? ' He paused, and you could 202 VISIONS see that he was living over again the tempta- tions of years. ' And did you give way to these promptings ? ' He shut his eyes for a minute, and then answered quietly : ' One turns in these tempted hours to the Book, to the tradition of the Church, to the fair fame of Christendom to be upheld, to the duty of keeping the savour in the salt, if the world is to be saved. I seemed to see in St. Paul the same anguish when he would cut out the offender at Corinth and hand him over to Satan for awhile. He trembled lest he should lose the whole Church at Corinth and suffer the sneers of the Pharisaic party in the Church. Where should we have been to-day if he had yielded to open, unrepented sin within the Body ? I have noted that the name St. Paul uses for the members of the Church is hagioi, not hieroi, because in the latter term " the moral idea is entirely wanting." I have come to see on my knees that what we have to plant here is no degenerate seed of the Gospel, spoilt by the over-civilisation of Europe after thousands of years ; no lowered ideals can be tolerated in a new region. We have to give the very best, to plant as the Lord Jesus planted; not the Old Testament, but the whole of the New Testament. If we destroy the old faiths of Africa we must put in their place no dis- credited and tarnished levels of the faith of ANXIETY FOR THE CHURCHES 203 the Gospel ; we must ever remember that to become a Christian is to sit down to meat with the Master Himself and to wear the wedding garment, to purify ourselves even as He is pure, and to cast to the winds the thoughts of reduced subscriptions from those who give, ignorant of the truth. So discipline is never relaxed, but it does go side by side with increased tenderness. It is not with disgust, but with growing humility and with tears, that we conduct the fallen to the end of the Church, banished for awhile from the Sacred Mysteries. Love for the flock grows as, for their sake, we guard ourselves from any tendency to relax discipline.' He ceased, and you will have felt that he, who had so long and so wisely and bravely borne the heat and burden of the day, had laid his heart open to your sympathetic questionings. XXXIX ANXIETY FOR ALL THE CHURCHES ' Besides those things that are without, there is that which presseth upon me daily, anxiety for all the churches.' 2 COR. xi. 28. III. AUSTRALIA A LONG street bordered with houses of all shapes. Plenty of corrugated iron is in evi- dence ; every now and again a large wooden hotel looms up ; stumps of trees still exist in empty spaces ; little shanties stand in boggy land and are reached by narrow boarded walks ; empty tins of every hue hailing from America and Australia are scattered about ; very few women are to be seen, but plenty of men dressed in grey, many with cans in their hands. The landscape ? Well, it looks as if some giant had cut a gash into a forest, had turned up the soil and rock here and there into heaps, had set machinery to work and built chimneys ANXIETY FOR THE CHURCHES 205 with suspiciously white vapour pouring out of them, but had not had time to tidy up. The remaining forest has a dying appearance all round, and I think the white smoke has a good deal to answer for in that direction. Enter a wooden shanty and you find a cleric within ; his dress indicates this fact, but he is not a dandy ; a good many books lie about, several rickety arm-chairs, pipes and tobacco, some sacred pictures, and domestic photographs. Will you talk to him ? Ask him what mistakes he made at first and how he looks at things now. He speaks : ' I came out pretty green, though I had worked in crowded places at home ; but you can only learn by experience in a mining field, especially in a new mining field. You see, the first rushes bring together a strange set of men ; they have been all over the world. I think with a sense of humour now of the records of many of them who were the best of company, but their list of shady transactions in various places, their debts unpaid, the amount of money that has passed through their hands, the mass of mining scrip they have owned, the celerity with which they have disappeared from one field to appear innocent and immaculate- looking in another all this would take a good many sheets of paper.' ' What can you do for Treasurers of Church Funds ? ' The parson 206 VISIONS smiles. ' The new chum has to buy his ex- perience unless he has a wise magistrate of the field for his friend and will follow his advice. It is not easy to follow advice ; it seems such a shame to doubt the character of the good fellow who sings in the choir and is specially prepared to take a service or to act as treasurer. Well, you have to learn your experience. I am not surprised now when I see a gentlemanly man at an hotel door who looks as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth ; but my friend, an old hand, gives me a nudge and whispers, "So he has turned up." " You know him ? " " There is not a better known man on the mining fields in half the world." " Straight ? " My friend laughs and says nothing.' You yourself ask again, ' Do you like the work ? ' ' No work like it. Men are so real ; they don't pretend to religion I mean the ordinary miner ; I don't refer to the broker the kindest of men and the most thriftless, the hardest workers, and the most pleasure-loving. They really appreciate a service if the tone is genuine.' ' What about ritual ? ' 'If the parson is a first-rater, I don't think it matters what he wears or does. " Father Pat " in British Columbia a Dolling were he in Australia men of that type may do what they like and ANXIETY FOR THE CHURCHES 207 they will be followed and respected. But the trouble with much ritual in a mining field is that it may become just so much top-hamper in the case of one who is not first-rate : it will sink him.' ' What are the chief qualities needed ? ' ' Here they are absolute genuineness and reality, no self-consciousness, no conceit, no stand-offishness : it is a brotherhood on equal terms ; for this reason I pity a cleric with daughters, .about whom he is naturally parti- cular. I began by thinking that I had better be one of them all round, dress like them, smoke a pipe down the street, &c. I found out my mistake. They have a high respect for the priest ; he must sustain his character and not be ashamed of his uniform. Above all, he must shun their special weaknesses. Woe to the parson who begins to gamble in scrip, or play cards for money, or keep up his church by questionable methods of getting money, or if he drinks at all. They don't want the parson to come down to their level. To be true, sincere, unaffected, real, yes ; but to be a priest.' ' And is there temptation for you to touch scrip ? ' ' It is a fearful temptation. You see, you are in the thick of fortunes being made. You hear of the few that are made, not of the hundreds of failures. You are 208 VISIONS offered scrip by friends. Of course they axe amazed that you won't take it, but you mustn't. The temptation is so great that every parson who comes green to a mining field ought to sign a pledge that he won't touch scrip ; otherwise he won't be able to stand it. Oh ! the awful battle to keep the Church pure from worldliness. All expect it to be the only pure thing, so to speak, in the place. Men look to it for a high ideal ; they want the parson, and the best that is to be had. They really like to see him try and make men give direct to God and not to prop up the Church by dances, coffee suppers, raffles, &c. They want the parson to keep good manners and to be the one spiritual person among them. Your chance comes with individuals. You must be a teetotaller ; you must be hospitable and let men have the run of your room. Poor fellows ; it is the only place where many of them are safe. There is the hotel bar besides and the track. Many a fellow you can save by putting him up and feeding him when he comes into the township from his mine. They don't say much, but you have true friends among such men. Yes, the parson must be the Good Samaritan on a mining field, dare to speak out, be ready to help at every crisis, be unworldly, and an unaffected man of prayer. ANXIETY FOR THE CHURCHES 209 1 am always helped by thinking what St. Paul would have been in a mining town. I know he would have held forth always on the life of the Master His power, His claim on all. He would have begged for all that is pure and of good report, &c. ; would have lived the simple and helpful life, and scorned all un- worthy motives or underhand dealings or advertising methods. I think possibly he would have always had a big congregation, though I am not sure. I don't think a very intense man can expect a big congregation here except at times. On some occasions everybody ; at other times the miner loves and respects the parson at a distance, but flies to him at once when he is in trouble, and nothing would horrify him more than to hear that the padre had descended to any low tricks to fill his church. Yes, there is no doubt you must have a sense of humour with these dear fellows, the pioneers of the world, surrounded with temptation, rolling stones gathering no moss, the creatures of their surroundings. It is a joy to be allowed to try to be like leaven in such a lump. I love the lump, and He Who judges justly and knows all lives will judge my people as He seems to have judged whole classes in His earthly life, so differently from the Pharisees.' He ended, and took up a pipe 210 VISIONS unconsciously, and then looked at you with an apologetic expression. But you smiled and blessed him in your heart, and went away realising how manifold are the causes that make the Apostles of to-day speak of ' anxiety for all the churches.' XL ANXIETY FOR ALL THE CHURCHES ' Besides those things that are without, there is that which presseth upon me daily, anxiety for all the churches.' 2 COR. xi. 28. IV. BUSH FARMS WE are in a farming district. The road is half made ; fences consist of fallen logs or of a makeshift of wire and wood ; here and there they are properly finished. Great gaunt trees litter the fields, and cattle and horses graze among them ; in the distance there is a small wooden house with a little bit of a verandah, sheds of sizes clustering near ; wood for burning is stacked to hand ; a woman is at the back fully at work. Then, as you drive along, you come to bush without cultivation ; after a mile another incipient farm appears, and tracks to the right and left indicate a way to farms some- where further back. There is no township. I 212 VISIONS have drawn a picture from the Antipodes ; but, with slight variations, it is true of scores and hundreds of regions in Canada, Australia, the States, &c. You meet a cleric riding and fall into conversation. This is his story : ' On the whole there is no work more important than this. You see, these men here are the backbone of the country ; they have come to stay ; their work is in ideal the noblest, because it means a lifetime of long, steady labour in the open air, with no chance of sudden wealth. Every one of these men knows also that he is really working not so much for himself as for his grandchild. He knows, too, that a big family of strong sons and daughters is a gold-mine to him ; he cannot afford hired labour, so he must be self-contained. It is his own farm if he pays off his yearly instalments, and he fears no man. He must be frugal ; his necessities are very few indeed and must be of the simplest, and for years he ought to buy nothing he can possibly do without. Can you imagine a simpler, nobler, more frugal, more steady, more character-building life ? As I ride along these roads my heart goes out to the bush farmers, and there is nothing I would not do for them.' ' What are their difficulties ? ' 'It may be a long way from the farm to a school ; an impossible way to any church ; a Sunday-school may be an unheard-of ANXIETY ^FOR THE CHURCHES 213 luxury. Service, of course, for such as these can only be once on a Sunday, if at all ; many drive five or six miles for that ; also it is a day when horses or the one horse want rest. It fills me with gladness to see how- these splendid fellows, without help in stable or garden or field except of wife or child, up early to feed horses and to milk, at work all day in a dozen ways, will yet get up early also on a Sunday. They will clean themselves and put on Sunday clothes, and drive their wife and children to service, though it means taking up just the whole of the leisure time they have for a Sunday rest of body.' ' What can you do for the children ? ' ' It is a joy to tend them individually. I have my (so-called) Sunday-school register always with me with the names of those who can never go to Sunday-school : so they belong to the ' Parson's Own Sunday-school.' Their names are inscribed in that register it is a little note- book with the lessons they are learning, their texts, hymns, Catechism. I get the parents to help me to hear them. I hear them myself whenever I come round, and it adds such zest to a visit ! I do so look forward to meeting my scholars once a month or once in two or three months ! I pin up the card with the lesson on it over their bed. Some I have to correspond with, and I have such delightful answers from 214 VISIONS them kept in a box ! What else can you do for a couple of children who live sixty miles from my parsonage, and eight miles off the road up a bush track, with their nearest neigh- bour four miles'away ? Yet those two children are my joy. I always imagine in such cases that the boy of six will be Premier of his colony some day, and I must diligently prepare him for that life-work.' ' And how do you stand it ? ' 'It is a young man's work. How can an aged man be in the saddle many hours a day, or on a bicycle, or in a buggy ? You lose vitality by such constant physical exertion ; yet persistent visitation is the first, second, and third duty. Don't let anyone come to such work who doesn't love visiting. For one thing, he won't get his stipend if he doesn't visit, and it serves him right, for it is the foundation of all work in farming regions. You must be human, and they do deserve all you can give. How hospit- able they are ! There is a welcome in every house, and evening family prayers with the household is a privilege. But see to it, if you can, that we bush parsons are not kept at this work when we can no longer do it. You cannot have an old or a feeble pioneer. It is a con- tradiction in terms. See that in due time we are pensioned off say at sixty-five. Then let us settle in the suburbs of townships with a ANXIETY FOR THE CHURCHES 215 modest pension, and give splendid aid to the town clergy, or fill gaps, or become secretaries of diocesan institutions.' ' What are your people's difficulties ? ' ' Intellectually none. They cannot be great students ; they are always in touch with nature ; their bodies are healthy and they sleep soundly ; they are reverent, simple Christians. In business matters my great anxiety for them is on account of mining temptations. The weekly paper tells them of some brother farmer who bought a few shares, and is now a rich man and has sold his farm. The reader cannot look ahead and know that the poor fellow afterwards went on specu- lating and lost all that money, and had to work as a servant on the farm of some one else : for, of course, he had no real, practical experience of mines and of mining promoters, and perhaps he ceased to be the fine fellow he was as a farmer. I am not speaking against mining ; but I tell them it is a different life, the very opposite to theirs. They cannot mingle the two, that is the point j they have chosen the best because the simplest, the most natural and healthy and frugal, with a promise of work up to old age without corrupting idleness. I praise them for their choice and uphold it as noble, and I think they are to be envied. Ah 1 yes ; no one has a happier lot than mine. I praise God 216 VISIONS daily for it. I mourn that I cannot do more in a single day, for, you see, it often takes a long day to visit six small farms. But, oh, the joy of going thus from house to house to prepare the young fellows and girls in twos and threes, or often individually, for Confirmation, and to go on for six months with them ! Good-bye ; I must turn up this track now, for I have to catch a young fellow for his Confirmation talk. Tell them at home that I wouldn't exchange this empire building among farmers for the best living in England.' In scores and hundreds of regions this blessed work is going on by the humble and holy men of God. Let us praise God for this. THE END 8POTTISWOODE AND CO. LTD., COLCHESTER LONDON AND ETON UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY A 000 035 338 3