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 THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Professor Ma lb one W, Graham
 
 SERMONS
 
 SERMONS 
 
 RICHARD CORDLEY, D.D. 
 
 FOR THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS PASTOR OF 
 PLYMOUTH CHURCH, LAWRENCE. KANSAS 
 
 Published by the Church, 1912 
 
 THE PILGRIM PRESS 
 
 BOSTON NEW TORK CmCAQO
 
 Copyright, 191 2, 
 By Luther H. Gary 
 
 THE RUMFORD PRESS 
 CONCORD • N • H • USA-
 
 V^5 
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introduction: Richard Cordley, An Appreciation . . vii 
 
 I. " When Jesus Was Born in Bethlehem." Matt. 
 
 2:1 I 
 
 II. "Come Unto Me." Matt. 11 :28 13 
 
 Lawrence, 1899, 
 
 III. " Which of You by Taking Thought Can Add 
 
 One Cubit to his Stature ? " Matt. 6:27 27 
 Lawrence, 1 893. 
 
 IV. "It Doth Not Yet Appear What We Shall Be." 
 
 I John 3:2 41 
 
 Lawrence, 1867. 
 Emporia, 1 880. 
 
 V. "The Mutual F.aith of You and Me." Rom. 
 
 I : 12 56 
 
 Lawrence, 1902. 
 
 VI. "He Steadfastly Set His Face to Go to 
 
 Jerusalem." Luke 9 151 71 
 
 Lawrence, 1904. 
 
 VII. "Hold Fast the Profession of Your Faith." 
 
 Hebrews 10 : 23 83 
 
 VIII. "The Days of Our Ye.uis." Ps. 90 : to ... 97 
 
 Lawrence, New Year, 1903. 
 
 "I Will Remember all the Way." Deut. 8:2 106 
 Lawrence, Memorial Day, 1904. 
 
 Nuggets 119 
 
 9063S0
 
 AN APPRECIATION 
 
 BY WM. L. BURDICK 
 
 OF THE UNIVERSITY OF KANSAS 
 
 TN THE summer of 1856, when the nation 
 ■*■ could already see the coming flames of 
 civil war, and when the struggle of patriots 
 to make Kansas free was at its height, four 
 devoted young men, Sylvester Storrs, Groves- 
 nor Morse, Rosewell Parker, and Richard 
 Cordley, students at Andover Theological 
 Seminary, consecrated themselves to their 
 country's cause. They were dubbed "The 
 Kansas Band," and the crusaders of old fol- 
 lowed the banner of the cross with no greater 
 loyalty, fervency, and zeal, and in no deeper 
 spirit of self-sacrifice, than did these young 
 men, when putting behind them the promise 
 of more lucrative pastorates in the East, 
 they gladly pledged themselves to the work of 
 the churches in Kansas. They asked for no 
 desirable or congenial locations, for no fixed 
 compensation, but only for an opportunity to 
 serve. Upon graduation they entered with 
 enthusiasm upon their work, and their influence 
 in the upbuilding of the new state can never
 
 AN APPRECIATION 
 
 be estimated. It is to the glory of Congrega- 
 tionalism that her churches were the first to 
 enter the disputed territory, and that the edu- 
 cational institutions of the state were, in their 
 early history, fostered by "The Kansas Band 
 of Andover." 
 
 Of the four original members of this band, 
 Sylvester Storrs became the Home Missionary 
 Supt. in Kansas, and gave heroic service dur- 
 ing the hard pioneer years. Grovesnor Morse 
 located at Emporia, and literally gave his life 
 to the labor of establishing the State Normal 
 School there. Rosewell Parker went to Man- 
 hattan, and materially aided in building up 
 the State Agricultural College in that com- 
 munity. Richard Cordley, the subject of this 
 sketch, began his work at Lawrence, taking 
 charge of Plymouth Church, the first church 
 building erected in the state, and for forty-four 
 years (thirty-eight of which were spent in 
 Lawrence, and an interval of six years at 
 Emporia) he served the people of Kansas with 
 such love and devotion that his memory will 
 ever remain to them a benediction. 
 
 The incidents of his early life were typical 
 of the sons of sturdy western pioneers. He was 
 of English birth, being born in Nottingham, 
 Sept. 6, 1829, but his parents emigrated to 
 America when he was only four years old.
 
 AN APPRECIATION Ix 
 
 The family located about fifteen miles south- 
 west from Ann Arbor, Michigan, and there in 
 the wilderness, three miles from his nearest 
 neighbor, the father of Richard Cordley built 
 his log-cabin. There were no roads, and they 
 found their way only by means of blazed trees. 
 The early years were marked with hard strug- 
 gles, and the wolf was often at the door. He 
 was nine years old before he saw the inside of 
 a school-house, yet like so many boys who have 
 risen from youthful hardship to influential 
 manhood, he was blessed with a mother of 
 rare intelligence and devotion. She carefully 
 taught her children, and her gentle Christian 
 character was an inspiration to them. 
 
 When nine years old he attended his first 
 school which was kept in a log-house built 
 by the efforts of his father. A few years later 
 he was enabled to attend school in Ann Arbor 
 every winter, and, finally, after the overcom- 
 ing of many difficulties, he entered the Uni- 
 versity of Michigan. He mostly made his 
 own way through college, working every spare 
 hour and also during vacations. He graduated, 
 with honors, in 1854, and three years later he 
 graduated from the theological school at 
 Andover. At the seminary, the vacation 
 periods were, even as at college, only opportuni- 
 ties for work, and during the vacations at
 
 AN APPRECIATION 
 
 Andover, he was, at different times in the serv- 
 ice of the American Sunday School Union in 
 Pennsylvania; in charge of the mission station 
 of the church at South Danvers, now Peabody; 
 and in the employ of the City Missionary 
 Society of Hartford. When he graduated from 
 Andover, in 1857, he had "never," to use his 
 own words, "had a real vacation" in his life. 
 
 He went to Lawrence that same year. He 
 had received a call to the church at Ann Arbor, 
 the location of his alma mater, but true to his 
 purpose to give his all to the cause of Kansas, 
 he declined a salary two or three times as much 
 as the little home-missionary church at Law- 
 rence paid, and gladly threw in his lot with 
 his chosen people. After a year in Lawrence, 
 he returned to his Michigan home for the pur- 
 pose of bringing back with him his bride. 
 Mrs. Cordley's patient, faithful, loyal sym- 
 pathy and intelligent cooperation were ever a 
 tower of strength to her husband, and for her 
 unselfish devotion during the years of the early 
 troublous times, and for her services of love 
 to all people, the city of Lawrence and Ply- 
 mouth Church owe lasting gratitude. 
 
 From the beginning of his pastorate, Richard 
 Cordley attracted all classes by the originality 
 and sympathetic quality of his sermons. He 
 was peculiarly fitted for his work. Himself
 
 AN APPRECIATION xi 
 
 the son of a pioneer, he understood his people 
 and his training and experience enabled him 
 to enter into the life of all, the mechanic, the 
 farmer, the student, the university professor. 
 Throughout his long ministry he never, as a 
 rule, preached doctrinal sermons, but he 
 preached the great, loving fatherhood of God, 
 and the Christian democracy of all His chil- 
 dren. He was a man of great spirituality, 
 and because he was spiritual he saw the depths 
 of familiar texts, and the child and the sage 
 were alike profited by his sermons. He was 
 called by many the "Nugget Preacher," by 
 reason of the thoughts of pure gold with which 
 his discourses abounded. 
 
 During the years of the war, Lawrence was 
 practically an armed camp. It was at this 
 period that his sermons rang with vigorous 
 patriotism, and that he was known as the 
 "Abolition Preacher." He held services in 
 camp, visited the sick in the hospitals, and even 
 took his turn standing guard at the block-house. 
 It was eminently fitting that after the close of 
 the war the local Grand Army Post made him 
 its permanent chaplain, and that his grave is 
 now annually decorated on Memorial Day as 
 that of a comrade. 
 
 On the terrible day of Friday, Aug. 21, 1863, 
 known as the day of Quantrill's raid, he was
 
 xii AN APPRECIATION 
 
 one of those whose life was particularly sought, 
 owing to his pronounced stand for the cause of 
 the Union and for the freedom of the slave. 
 No pen can adequately portray the horrors of 
 that morning. Like a tornado, a band of 
 cowardly assassins, mostly Missouri guerillas, 
 led by a fiend in human-shape, the despicable 
 Quantrill, burst upon the doomed town, and 
 without warning began their awful work of 
 pillage, arson, robbery, and murder. They 
 shot down in cold blood the unarmed citizens, 
 set fire to the homes and places of business, 
 and plundered the shops and dwelling-houses. 
 They robbed the dead, and tore wedding-rings 
 from women's hands. The mangled forms of 
 their dead and dying victims they hurled into 
 the blazing flames of the dwellings. Never 
 was there a more horrid butchery of human 
 beings in the history of civilization, character- 
 ized as it was with all the shocking and revolt- 
 ing brutality of blood-thirsty savages. They 
 stayed not the bullet and the torch in their 
 cowardly and barbarous slaughter till they 
 had out-shamed an Indian massacre. It was 
 the culmination of the border-ruffianism of the 
 war, and the defenseless and innocent citizens 
 of Lawrence were sacrificed to the cause of 
 liberty merely because they were the represen- 
 tatives of the advocates of human freedom.
 
 AN APPRECIATION 
 
 Richard Cordley escaped death by fleeing 
 across the river, but his little white cottage 
 was burned to the ground. One of the great 
 regrets of Quantrill and his fellow-murderers 
 on that day was their failure to kill the "aboli- 
 tion preacher." 
 
 The services of Richard Cordley to education 
 were state-wide. He was one of the founders 
 of Washburn College, at Topeka, and was one 
 of its trustees as long as he lived. He gave 
 liberally of his time and of his money to its 
 cause. In 1871, he was elected its president, 
 but he yielded to the entreaties of Plymouth 
 Church and remained in Lawrence. To the 
 State University he was always a devoted 
 friend. The first degree bestowed by the uni- 
 versity was that of Doctor of Divinity upon 
 Richard Cordley. 
 
 His work as a historian was also of high 
 character. His books upon "Pioneer Days in 
 Kansas," and "A History of Lawrence, Kan- 
 sas," are valuable contributions to the history 
 of the middle-west. The modesty which al- 
 ways marked his gentle spirit is noticeable in 
 his writings. He wrote with self-effacement, 
 seldom speaking of himself. 
 
 The greatest thing in Richard Cordley was 
 himself. The beauty of his character was re- 
 flected everywhere. The test of preaching is
 
 xiv AN APPRECIATION 
 
 not scholarship, not eloquence, but helpfulness. 
 Richard Cordley helped all who ever heard 
 him speak because he spoke from the heart. 
 He was simplicity itself, but was always intel- 
 ligently progressive and in touch with modern 
 scholarship. In young manhood he freed him- 
 self from the shackles of ancient creeds, and 
 under the influence of his preaching, Plymouth 
 Church adopted a broad, tolerant covenant as 
 the test of admission to its membership rather 
 than a subscription to a dogmatic creed. He 
 believed in men and loved them, always see- 
 ing some good in everyone. His influence has 
 left its mark upon the spiritual and intellec- 
 tual life not only of his city and of his state, 
 but also, in view of his work in the pioneer 
 days, he is justly entitled to national fame in 
 Congregationalism. 
 
 He died July ii, 1904, aged seventy-five 
 years, the last survivor of the "Andover 
 Band."
 
 SERMONS 
 I 
 
 "when JESUS WAS BORN IN BETHLEHEM*' 
 Matt. 2: I 
 
 V\ T^HEN Jesus was born in Bethlehem, it 
 ' ' seemed a very ordinary event. Very 
 few people knew about it, and very few people 
 cared about it. The town of his birth was an 
 obscure village apart from all the centers of 
 interest. It had been the birthplace of kings, 
 but it was not a kingly place. The family 
 from which he sprung was also obscure and 
 unknown. It was of royal lineage, but the 
 lineage involved no heirship. So little did 
 his coming impress men that even the time 
 of his birth was not noted. We do not know 
 the day of the month, nor the month of the 
 year, nor even the year in the century. We 
 may even go farther than this and say, we do 
 not know the century. The village of Beth- 
 lehem itself did not know of his birth. For 
 when Herod sought him that he might destroy 
 him, he could not find him. The neighbors 
 in that little village could not tell of the king
 
 SERMONS 
 
 who had been born among them. The world 
 lay ignorant of its Redeemer, and unconscious 
 of its redemption. The great world went on as 
 before while he who was to transform it was 
 an obscure child, in an obscure home, in an 
 obscure town. 
 
 "When Jesus was born in Bethlehem," there 
 were but few who knew of it. The rulers knew 
 nothing of it. Herod and his officers knew noth- 
 ing of it. The priests and elders knew nothing 
 of it. Weeks after they could only tell of 
 the prophecy concerning it. But some sim- 
 ple shepherds, watching the stars, and watch- 
 ing their flocks by night, heard the story 
 and heard the song. To them the heavens 
 were full of messengers, and the air was full of 
 music. A multitude of the heavenly host ap- 
 peared, confirming the word of the angel, and 
 joining in the song of the night; "Glory to God 
 in the Highest — Peace on Earth — Good will 
 to men." It is significant that when Jesus was 
 born in Bethlehem, the news was first told to 
 laboring men. It was not to the owners of the 
 sheep, nor to the proprietors of the soil. But 
 the message came to poor shepherds whose toil 
 took them from their homes, men whose life 
 and whose living was to watch their flocks by 
 night. In their simple life, close to Nature's 
 heart, they heard the voice of Nature's King.
 
 SERMONS 
 
 They had no opinions to set aside, no inter- 
 ests to subserve, no pride to overcome. They 
 listened simply to the story, and received and 
 reported it just as it came to them. 
 
 "When Jesus was born in Bethlehem," there 
 were others waiting for the news in the Holy 
 City itself. It was not the High Priest. He 
 was expecting, as the Prophets had foretold. 
 But he was looking towards ambitions and pre- 
 ferments and power. It was not the Jewish 
 council. They, too, were counting the days of 
 prophetic promise, but looking in the line of 
 national glory and personal promotion. But 
 there were devout souls who had purer instincts 
 and clearer insight. There was Simeon who 
 had read the prophets in the light of his own 
 spiritual life and had been assured that he 
 should see the Lord's Christ. He had come 
 to realize that the fulness of time had come. 
 When he saw the child, he took him in his arms 
 and blessed God, and said, "Now let thy serv- 
 ant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen 
 thy salvation." There was Anna also, the 
 prophetess, a good soul, who dwelt with God, 
 and who had come to feel the impulse of God 
 upon her. These devout souls knew the signs 
 of the times, as one sometimes feels the signs 
 of morning before the morning light appears. 
 She felt the currents of Providence, and knew
 
 SERMONS 
 
 the movements of God, as if a voice had spoken 
 to her. 
 
 "When Jesus was born in Bethlehem," there 
 were still others looking for the coming of the 
 King. Far away, over the eastern mountains, 
 were men who had caught the world's expecta- 
 tion. They had heard of the prophecies, and 
 they were studying the signs. As the shep- 
 herds watched their flocks, they watched the 
 stars. As was customary among the sages of 
 those eastern lands, they spent their nights 
 under the open heavens, and watched them as 
 they rose and set. Never since perhaps, have 
 the stars been so carefully observed, as by the 
 astronomers of those early ages. We know 
 more of the philosophy of the stars, but they 
 knew more of the stars. Every variation was 
 marked. Every new phase was watched and 
 its meaning sought. These men of patient 
 contemplation had heard of the Star of Jacob — 
 the Star of Israel. At this time some new star, 
 or new phase appeared in the sky. In the 
 limited range of their knowledge, there was no 
 analogy and no comparison. It seemed to 
 them a new light with no antecedent. Pos- 
 sibly our modern methods might have traced it 
 out, but they had nothing but what they could 
 see. When they sought to interpret it, they 
 thought of the world's expectation — the com-
 
 SERMONS 
 
 ing of the King. So they began their long 
 journey towards the setting sun. After months 
 of weary travel, they came in sight of the great 
 Western Sea, and turned their steps towards 
 Jerusalem, the City of the Great King. There 
 they were more minutely instructed, and were 
 led to where the young child was. While the 
 nation to which he came was unconscious of 
 his presence; while the keen search of the 
 Roman police failed to discover him; while 
 his very neighbors were unaware of his prox- 
 imity, these sages from far away had made 
 their long journey to the little town of Beth- 
 lehem, and the very house where he lay. And 
 when they came into the house, "they saw 
 the young child with Mary his mother and 
 fell down and worshipped him. And when they 
 had opened their treasures, they presented 
 unto him gifts, gold, frankincense and myrrh." 
 Thus "when Jesus was born in Bethlehem," 
 men of widely different localities, and widely 
 different conditions, knew of his coming, and 
 recognized his presence. First the shepherds 
 in their nightly watch over their sheep found 
 him in the manger, as the angel had said. 
 Then a little later, a few devout souls in Jeru- 
 salem knew him as he was brought into the 
 temple. And a few months later still, the 
 sages from the far east found him and knew
 
 SERMONS 
 
 him as they were guided by the Star. All 
 these men were about their common occupa- 
 tions when the news, or the impression, came 
 to them. The shepherds were keeping watch 
 over their flocks by night. Simeon and Anna 
 were attending to the service of the temple as 
 was their wont. The sages were studying the 
 stars after the manner of their class. Others 
 were looking for him, but each for a human pur- 
 pose. The chief priests were watching for 
 him as a medium of power and promotion; 
 Herod was soon seeking for him that he might 
 destroy him. But these men were about their 
 regular occupations. They were doing the 
 work which belonged to their lot. As they 
 faithfully wrought in the line of their calling, 
 this larger thing was revealed to them. Many 
 wise men in Judea studied hard that they might 
 know what manner of person the Messiah 
 should be and yet they did not know him when 
 they saw him. Men of influence and power 
 in the Jewish state, and in the Jewish Church, 
 watched diligently for his appearance, but they 
 saw not the star and knew not the King. But 
 shepherds about their nightly work; devout 
 souls about their daily service; sages engaged 
 in their usual study, became aware of the com- 
 ing of a new Era — the coming of a new light. 
 Away from the selfish world; away from the
 
 SERMONS 
 
 maddening crowd, they became conscious of 
 a new force, and a new condition among men. 
 Somehow the heavens brightened; somehow 
 the earth glowed ; somehow hope began to dawn. 
 These children of nature saw and felt the in- 
 coming of a new day, and recognized the day- 
 star and the dawn. The vision came to toilers 
 by night, to devotion by day, to students afar. 
 The new order was made known to the labor, 
 to the devotion, to the intelligence of men. 
 The shepherds might represent the work, Sim- 
 eon the worship, and the sages the intelli- 
 gence of mankind. 
 
 The message of Jesus has always been com- 
 ing to men apart from their condition. The 
 poor heard him gladly from the very start. 
 Publicans and sinners flocked to him, while 
 Pharisees mocked and scribes derided. In all 
 the years since, the toiling millions have rested 
 their cause with him. Every struggle for jus- 
 tice wins by an appeal to him. Every strug- 
 gle for better conditions finds its justification 
 in him. All life is glorified, and all toil is 
 honored by the word of him whose life was with 
 the lowly, and whose lot was with the poor. 
 It was a wonderful illustration of the impar- 
 tiality of God that he should leave the city to 
 slumber, while he sent his message to shepherds 
 who kept watch over their flocks by night.
 
 SERMONS 
 
 He dignified toil and toilers for all time by that 
 wonderful display. Toil may exult, and pov- 
 erty lift its head, for the King of Glory was 
 born a peasant, and to peasants the first an- 
 nouncement was made. The Providence of 
 God has always taught the same lesson. The 
 children of toil have often been the instru- 
 ments of his Providence, and the poor have 
 often stood in the line of light. The call of 
 God has come to men of low estate, and the 
 honors of God have rested on men of humble 
 condition. 
 
 "When Jesus was born in Bethlehem," pov- 
 erty ceased to degrade and toil ceased to dis- 
 qualify. The highest honors of Heaven came 
 to the lowliest tribes of earth. Jesus was poor. 
 There could be none poorer than he. His 
 father was a carpenter, his mother a peasant 
 girl of Galilee. He had not where to lay his 
 head. Often they had no bread as they wan- 
 dered over the hills of Judea. But this de- 
 tracted not one whit from the dignity of his 
 person, or the manliness of his presence. He 
 taught with the same authority; he bore him- 
 self with the same assurance; he awed men with 
 the same signs of power. And yet with all 
 this were the tokens and the signs of tender- 
 ness and sympathy. 
 
 Jesus was poor, yet made many rich. He
 
 SERMONS 
 
 had nothing, and yet was heir of all things. 
 He received nothing, yet gave gifts to men. 
 The heritage he won for himself, he won for all 
 men. 
 
 "When Jesus was born in Bethlehem," devo- 
 tion received a new sanction. Then, as ever 
 since, devout hearts knew him. They who seek 
 God are always drawn to Jesus. They who 
 trust God believe in Him. Simeon only saw 
 him and he knew him. Devout hearts needed 
 only to see him. Put Jesus before them and 
 they recognize the features. He is what they 
 are looking for. He presents to them what 
 they are struggling to attain. You have often 
 had the hazy image of an idea in your mind, 
 but could not give it form. Some one else has 
 expressed the thought, and your own mind 
 was clarified. The hazy shadow takes form 
 in our thought when another gives utterance. 
 In their light we see light. 
 
 When we see Jesus it seems as if we had 
 always known him. We had been struggling 
 for such a conception, but never seized it. 
 But looking at him our shadowy images take 
 form, and our fragmentary thoughts find a 
 content. He is the substance of our best 
 hopes, the reality of our best ideals. To all 
 sincere seekers, Jesus is his own witness. He 
 bears his own credentials in voice and step. If
 
 10 SERMONS 
 
 the historic testimony should be lost, and 
 Jesus should stand, without date or location 
 or historic environment, he would still approve 
 himself to men for all he claims to be. Devout 
 souls would still receive him. As he came into 
 the temple of their lives, though they knew 
 not whence, nor by whom, they could bless 
 God for the sight. Not every one can trace 
 the line of historic connection. But all can 
 understand him as he stands before them. 
 No matter when — no matter whence — no mat- 
 ter how — he is his own best evidence, and his 
 own best exposition. Simeon knew not who 
 he was, nor whence he came, and yet he knew 
 him as he entered the temple. The whence, 
 and the when and the where may be mysteries, 
 but the personality may be plain. 
 
 "When Jesus was born in Bethlehem," the 
 sages were aware of his coming. Jesus ap- 
 pealed to the learning of the world, as well as 
 to its devotion. He has ever satisfied the intel- 
 ligence of men. Other faiths have faded in 
 the dawn of intelligence. The religion of 
 Jesus is intelligible to the simple, and yet sat- 
 isfies the intelligent. The larger the light, 
 the brighter it shines. No intensity of light 
 has shown defects in Jesus. He seems the 
 more perfect the more clearly we see him. 
 Advancing civilization does not pass beyond
 
 SERMONS II 
 
 him. Enlarging knowledge does not outgrow 
 him. Progressive study does not leave him 
 behind. He is always abreast of the best 
 thought. The highest ideal of personal duty 
 will find itself foreshadowed by him. The 
 highest conception of social order will still 
 look to him for its model. 
 
 Thus the coming of Jesus appealed to these 
 three classes: the shepherds and the prophets 
 and the sages. It appealed to the poor, the 
 pious and the intelligent; to them that toiled, 
 to them that prayed, to them that thought. 
 It has come down the centuries with the same 
 appeal. These may represent the three classes 
 of men. In all the centuries Christ has ful- 
 filled the intimation of his childhood. 
 
 He appeals to us in the same way. He ap- 
 peals first to our intelligence. He himself is 
 beyond question. Cut him adrift from all 
 historic connection, and he justifies himself 
 to the intelligence of men. Your study of the 
 stars, and your study of the earth, and your 
 study of men, lead you to him. Every human 
 condition needs him; every human problem 
 calls for him. Your thinking will be without 
 a center if you think without him. Human 
 society will be "a muddle" if God be not 
 in the center. And your devout instincts 
 need him. For you have devout instincts even
 
 12 SERMONS 
 
 if you are not devout. There is a prophet in 
 your soul whether you let him speak or not. 
 There is a prophet in every man's soul. The 
 prophet within you will know Jesus when he 
 comes into the temple of your thought. When 
 your intelligence finds him, the prophet within 
 you will know him. 
 
 When your intelligence finds him, and your 
 soul shall receive him, then your hands shall 
 serve him. Intelligence and devotion and labor 
 serve him. Intelligence and devotion and 
 labor shall join in serving him who came from 
 God. The three classes which recognized 
 Jesus when he was born in Bethlehem, — the 
 sages with their wisdom, the Simeons with 
 their devotion, and the shepherds with their 
 labor — shall find a parallel in your life. Intel- 
 ligence shall find the Lord, devotion shall ac- 
 cept him and labor shall serve him. The 
 day when Jesus was born in Bethlehem shall 
 be eclipsed by the day when Jesus is born in 
 your life. For the scene in Bethlehem is 
 nothing to you till you have made it your own. 
 The world's Christmas was when Jesus was 
 born in Bethlehem, but your Christmas will 
 be when Jesus shall come into your life. Then 
 you with the sages shall find him; with the 
 prophets you shall receive him, and with the 
 shepherds you shall serve him.
 
 II 
 
 "come unto me" 
 
 Matt. 2:28 
 
 OOME one has said that these three words 
 ^^ more nearly express the attitude of Jesus 
 to mankind than any words that could be 
 chosen. It is the attitude of invitation — which 
 is the permanent attitude of Jesus. He knew 
 he had something to give men, and wanted 
 them to come and get it. He knew he could do 
 something for men, and he wanted them to 
 come and receive it. He could not look upon 
 a multitude but he was moved with compas- 
 sion. He could never see people about him 
 but he felt impelled to teach them. He could 
 never see people in want or in trouble but he 
 was impelled to help them. Thus he bore 
 himself through all his earthly life. 
 
 But Jesus came from God. He was the 
 Word, which was with God in the beginning. 
 He expressed God to men. He was in time 
 what he was in Eternity. God's eternal 
 thought was vocalized in the life of Jesus 
 Christ. God makes himself known in a great 
 many ways. He makes known his power and 
 wisdom in his works. He makes known his 
 
 13
 
 14 SERMONS 
 
 law in the human conscience. He makes 
 known his sovereignty and providence in 
 history and Hfe. But Jesus Christ is the final 
 and full expression. "Here the whole Deity 
 is known. We see God in the face of Jesus 
 Christ." 
 
 And Jesus spoke for all the ages. It is quite 
 remarkable that so few of the teachings of Jesus 
 are local and temporary. The truths he taught 
 are of universal application. What Jesus said 
 of God is forever and everywhere true. God 
 is now and forever what he seems in Jesus 
 Christ. The attitude of Jesus is the attitude 
 of the eternal throne. Whenever a man comes 
 to God he can expect to be met in the spirit of 
 Jesus Christ. 
 
 "The homage that we render thee 
 Is still our Father's own; 
 No jealous claim or rivalry 
 
 Divides the Cross and Throne." 
 
 God's attitude is forever the inviting atti- 
 tude; and God's voice is forever saying, "Come 
 unto me." 
 
 And God calls us because he wants us; he 
 wants our lives; he wants our love; he wants 
 our service. 
 
 First of all: Christ wants us ourselves. There 
 are some things to which a man gives a spec- 
 ified service, and there are other things to
 
 SERMONS 15 
 
 which he gives himself. A man gives his em- 
 ployer a specified number of hours. He gives 
 his teacher a fair knowledge of certain les- 
 sons. He owes his friends certain social obli- 
 gations. In many directions he has limited 
 responsibilities. But to his home he gives 
 himself. He does not give sections of himself 
 to the things he loves. If his child be sick he 
 will sit by its bedside day and night, and his 
 last dollar and the last dollar he can get is at 
 its service. It is not, "I will give two hours 
 a day, or so much a week," but, "all I have, 
 and all I can do." All he is and all he has are 
 on demand that his child may be restored. 
 There is no measure and no limit, except the 
 measure and limit of ability. This is what it 
 means to give one's self. This is the measure 
 of all the highest obligations. And this is the 
 spirit of all the best service, of all service that 
 is trust-worthy and reliable. In some such 
 sense Christ wants you. It is not a section 
 of your personality, or of your time, or of your 
 means, but he wants you yourself, with all 
 which that implies. 
 
 And as Paul says, "This is your reasonable 
 service." It is reasonable you should give 
 yourself to your home, for your life is wrapped 
 up in your home. It is reasonable you should 
 give yourself to your country, for your country
 
 i6 SERMONS 
 
 has in its keeping all that you have and are. 
 And it is reasonable you should give yourself 
 to God, for God is the giver of all you have and 
 the foundation of all you hope for. This con- 
 secration does not determine what you shall 
 do, but it determines the spirit of whatever 
 you may do. You may serve your home in 
 any one of a thousand different employments, 
 but you are at its call for anything it may need. 
 You may serve your country by being a good 
 citizen, and attending steadily to the work you 
 are engaged in, but you are at her call for spe- 
 cial service whenever she may need you. You 
 may be called upon to serve on the jury, to 
 serve as special police in case of disturbance, 
 or to go abroad as a soldier in case she is 
 threatened by foreign foes. You may serve 
 God in your home and in your daily calling, 
 but you are at the call of God to serve him in 
 whatever line his providence may lead you. 
 His claims are higher than the claims of coun- 
 try, for he made your country all it is. His 
 claims are higher than the claims of home. 
 God's gifts and God's care have made home 
 possible to you. He wants you with all you 
 have and all you are. He wants you with your 
 country, that you may serve your country in 
 his name. He wants you with your home, that 
 your home may itself belong to God and be a
 
 SERMONS 
 I 
 
 "when JESUS WAS BORN IN BETHLEHEM" 
 
 Matt. 2: I 
 
 A^T'HEN Jesus was born In Bethlehem, it 
 ' ' seemed a very ordinary event. Very 
 few people knew about it, and very few people 
 cared about it. The town of his birth was an 
 obscure village apart from all the centers of 
 interest. It had been the birthplace of kings, 
 but it was not a kingly place. The family 
 from which he sprung was also obscure and 
 unknown. It was of royal lineage, but the 
 lineage involved no heirship. So little did 
 his coming impress men that even the time 
 of his birth was not noted. We do not know 
 the day of the month, nor the month of the 
 year, nor even the year in the century. We 
 may even go farther than this and say, we do 
 not know the century. The village of Beth- 
 lehem itself did not know of his birth. For 
 when Herod sought him that he might destroy 
 him, he could not find him. The neighbors 
 in that little village could not tell of the king
 
 SERMONS 
 
 who had been born among them. The world 
 lay ignorant of its Redeemer, and unconscious 
 of its redemption. The great world went on as 
 before while he who was to transform it was 
 an obscure child, in an obscure home, in an 
 obscure town. 
 
 "When Jesus was born in Bethlehem," there 
 were but few who knew of it. The rulers knew 
 nothing of it. Herod and his officers knew noth- 
 ing of it. The priests and elders knew nothing 
 of it. Weeks after they could only tell of 
 the prophecy concerning it. But some sim- 
 ple shepherds, watching the stars, and watch- 
 ing their flocks by night, heard the story 
 and heard the song. To them the heavens 
 were full of messengers, and the air was full of 
 music. A multitude of the heavenly host ap- 
 peared, confirming the word of the angel, and 
 joining in the song of the night; "Glory to God 
 in the Highest — Peace on Earth — Good will 
 to men." It is significant that when Jesus was 
 born in Bethlehem, the news was first told to 
 laboring men. It was not to the owners of the 
 sheep, nor to the proprietors of the soil. But 
 the message came to poor shepherds whose toil 
 took them from their homes, men whose life 
 and whose living was to watch their flocks by 
 night. In their simple life, close to Nature's 
 heart, they heard the voice of Nature's King.
 
 SERMONS 
 
 They had no opinions to set aside, no inter- 
 ests to subserve, no pride to overcome. They 
 listened simply to the story, and received and 
 reported it just as it came to them. 
 
 "When Jesus was born in Bethlehem," there 
 were others waiting for the news in the Holy 
 City itself. It was not the High Priest. He 
 was expecting, as the Prophets had foretold. 
 But he was looking towards ambitions and pre- 
 ferments and power. It was not the Jewish 
 council. They, too, were counting the days of 
 prophetic promise, but looking in the line of 
 national glory and personal promotion. But 
 there were devout souls who had purer instincts 
 and clearer insight. There was Simeon who 
 had read the prophets in the light of his own 
 spiritual life and had been assured that he 
 should see the Lord's Christ. He had come 
 to realize that the fulness of time had come. 
 When he saw the child, he took him in his arms 
 and blessed God, and said, "Now let thy serv- 
 ant depart In peace, for mine eyes have seen 
 thy salvation." There was Anna also, the 
 prophetess, a good soul, who dwelt with God, 
 and who had come to feel the impulse of God 
 upon her. These devout souls knew the signs 
 of the times, as one sometimes feels the signs 
 of morning before the morning light appears. 
 She felt the currents of Providence, and knew
 
 SERMONS 
 
 the movements of God, as if a voice had spoken 
 to her. 
 
 "When Jesus was born in Bethlehem," there 
 were still others looking for the coming of the 
 King. Far away, over the eastern mountains, 
 were men who had caught the world's expecta- 
 tion. They had heard of the prophecies, and 
 they were studying the signs. As the shep- 
 herds watched their flocks, they watched the 
 stars. As was customary among the sages of 
 those eastern lands, they spent their nights 
 under the open heavens, and watched them as 
 they rose and set. Never since perhaps, have 
 the stars been so carefully observed, as by the 
 astronomers of those early ages. We know 
 more of the philosophy of the stars, but they 
 knew more of the stars. Every variation was 
 marked. Every new phase was watched and 
 its meaning sought. These men of patient 
 contemplation had heard of the Star of Jacob — 
 the Star of Israel. At this time some new star, 
 or new phase appeared in the sky. In the 
 limited range of their knowledge, there was no 
 analogy and no comparison. It seemed to 
 them a new light with no antecedent. Pos- 
 sibly our modern methods might have traced it 
 out, but they had nothing but what they could 
 see. When they sought to interpret it, they 
 thought of the world's expectation — the com-
 
 SERMONS 
 
 ing of the King. So they began their long 
 journey towards the setting sun. After months 
 of weary travel, they came in sight of the great 
 Western Sea, and turned their steps towards 
 Jerusalem, the City of the Great King. There 
 they were more minutely instructed, and were 
 led to where the young child was. While the 
 nation to which he came was unconscious of 
 his presence; while the keen search of the 
 Roman police failed to discover him; while 
 his very neighbors were unaware of his prox- 
 imity, these sages from far away had made 
 their long journey to the little town of Beth- 
 lehem, and the very house where he lay. And 
 when they came into the house, "they saw 
 the young child with Mary his mother and 
 fell down and worshipped him. And when they 
 had opened their treasures, they presented 
 unto him gifts, gold, frankincense and myrrh." 
 Thus "when Jesus was born in Bethlehem," 
 men of widely different localities, and widely 
 different conditions, knew of his coming, and 
 recognized his presence. First the shepherds 
 in their nightly watch over their sheep found 
 him in the manger, as the angel had said. 
 Then a little later, a few devout souls in Jeru- 
 salem knew him as he was brought into the 
 temple. And a few months later still, the 
 sages from the far east found him and knew
 
 SERMONS 
 
 him as they were guided by the Star. All 
 these men were about their common occupa- 
 tions when the news, or the impression, came 
 to them. The shepherds were keeping watch 
 over their flocks by night. Simeon and Anna 
 were attending to the service of the temple as 
 was their wont. The sages were studying the 
 stars after the manner of their class. Others 
 were looking for him, but each for a human pur- 
 pose. The chief priests were watching for 
 him as a medium of power and promotion; 
 Herod was soon seeking for him that he might 
 destroy him. But these men were about their 
 regular occupations. They were doing the 
 work which belonged to their lot. As they 
 faithfully wrought in the line of their calling, 
 this larger thing was revealed to them. Many 
 wise men in Judea studied hard that they might 
 know what manner of person the Messiah 
 should be and yet they did not know him when 
 they saw him. Men of influence and power 
 in the Jewish state, and in the Jewish Church, 
 watched diligently for his appearance, but they 
 saw not the star and knew not the King. But 
 shepherds about their nightly work; devout 
 souls about their daily service; sages engaged 
 in their usual study, became aware of the com- 
 ing of a new Era — the coming of a new light. 
 Away from the selfish world; away from the
 
 SERMONS 
 
 maddening crowd, they became conscious of 
 a new force, and a new condition among men. 
 Somehow the heavens brightened; somehow 
 the earth glowed ; somehow hope began to dawn. 
 These children of nature saw and felt the in- 
 coming of a new day, and recognized the day- 
 star and the dawn. The vision came to toilers 
 by night, to devotion by day, to students afar. 
 The new order was made known to the labor, 
 to the devotion, to the intelligence of men. 
 The shepherds might represent the work, Sim- 
 eon the worship, and the sages the intelli- 
 gence of mankind. 
 
 The message of Jesus has always been com- 
 ing to men apart from their condition. The 
 poor heard him gladly from the very start. 
 Publicans and sinners flocked to him, while 
 Pharisees mocked and scribes derided. In all 
 the years since, the toiling millions have rested 
 their cause with him. Every struggle for jus- 
 tice wins by an appeal to him. Every strug- 
 gle for better conditions finds its justification 
 in him. All life is glorified, and all toil is 
 honored by the word of him whose life was with 
 the lowly, and whose lot was with the poor. 
 It was a wonderful illustration of the impar- 
 tiality of God that he should leave the city to 
 slumber, while he sent his message to shepherds 
 who kept watch over their flocks by night.
 
 8 SERMONS 
 
 He dignified toil and toilers for all time by that 
 wonderful display. Toil may exult, and pov- 
 erty lift its head, for the King of Glory was 
 born a peasant, and to peasants the first an- 
 nouncement was made. The Providence of 
 God has always taught the same lesson. The 
 children of toil have often been the instru- 
 ments of his Providence, and the poor have 
 often stood in the line of light. The call of 
 God has come to men of low estate, and the 
 honors of God have rested on men of humble 
 condition. 
 
 ''When Jesus was born in Bethlehem," pov- 
 erty ceased to degrade and toil ceased to dis- 
 qualify. The highest honors of Heaven came 
 to the lowliest tribes of earth. Jesus was poor. 
 There could be none poorer than he. His 
 father was a carpenter, his mother a peasant 
 girl of Galilee. He had not where to lay his 
 head. Often they had no bread as they wan- 
 dered over the hills of Judea. But this de- 
 tracted not one whit from the dignity of his 
 person, or the manliness of his presence. He 
 taught with the same authority; he bore him- 
 self with the same assurance ; he awed men with 
 the same signs of power. And yet with all 
 this were the tokens and the signs oC tender- 
 ness and sympathy. 
 
 Jesus was poor, yet made many rich. He
 
 SERMONS 
 
 had nothing, and yet was heir of all things. 
 He received nothing, yet gave gifts to men. 
 The heritage he won for himself, he won for all 
 men. 
 
 "When Jesus was born in Bethlehem," devo- 
 tion received a new sanction. Then, as ever 
 since, devout hearts knew him. They who seek 
 God are always drawn to Jesus. They who 
 trust God believe in Him. Simeon only saw 
 him and he knew him. Devout hearts needed 
 only to see him. Put Jesus before them and 
 they recognize the features. He is what they 
 are looking for. He presents to them what 
 they are struggling to attain. You have often 
 had the hazy image of an idea in your mind, 
 but could not give it form. Some one else has 
 expressed the thought, and your own mind 
 was clarified. The hazy shadow takes form 
 in our thought when another gives utterance. 
 In their light we see light. 
 
 When we see Jesus it seems as if we had 
 always known him. We had been struggling 
 for such a conception, but never seized it. 
 But looking at him our shadowy images take 
 form, and our fragmentary thoughts find a 
 content. He is the substance of our best 
 hopes, the reality of our best ideals. To all 
 sincere seekers, Jesus is his own witness. He 
 bears his own credentials in voice and step. If
 
 10 SERMONS 
 
 the historic testimony should be lost, and 
 Jesus should stand, without date or location 
 or historic environment, he would still approve 
 himself to men for all he claims to be. Devout 
 souls would still receive him. As he came into 
 the temple of their lives, though they knew 
 not whence, nor by whom, they could bless 
 God for the sight. Not every one can trace 
 the line of historic connection. But all can 
 understand him as he stands before them. 
 No matter when — no matter whence — no mat- 
 ter how — he is his own best evidence, and his 
 own best exposition. Simeon knew not who 
 he was, nor whence he came, and yet he knew 
 him as he entered the temple. The whence, 
 and the when and the where may be mysteries, 
 but the personality may be plain. 
 
 "When Jesus was born in Bethlehem," the 
 sages were aware of his coming. Jesus ap- 
 pealed to the learning of the world, as well as 
 to its devotion. He has ever satisfied the intel- 
 ligence of men. Other faiths have faded in 
 the dawn of intelligence. The religion of 
 Jesus is intelligible to the simple, and yet sat- 
 isfies the intelligent. The larger the light, 
 the brighter it shines. No intensity of light 
 has shown defects in Jesus. He seems the 
 more perfect the more clearly we see him. 
 Advancing civilization does not pass beyond
 
 SERMONS II 
 
 him. Enlarging knowledge does not outgrow 
 him. Progressive study does not leave him 
 behind. He is always abreast of the best 
 thought. The highest ideal of personal duty 
 will find itself foreshadowed by him. The 
 highest conception of social order will still 
 look to him for its model. 
 
 Thus the coming of Jesus appealed to these 
 three classes: the shepherds and the prophets 
 and the sages. It appealed to the poor, the 
 pious and the intelligent; to them that toiled, 
 to them that prayed, to them that thought. 
 It has come down the centuries with the same 
 appeal. These may represent the three classes 
 of men. In all the centuries Christ has ful- 
 filled the intimation of his childhood. 
 
 He appeals to us in the same way. He ap- 
 peals first to our intelligence. He himself is 
 beyond question. Cut him adrift from all 
 historic connection, and he justifies himself 
 to the intelligence of men. Your study of the 
 stars, and your study of the earth, and your 
 study of men, lead you to him. Every human 
 condition needs him; every human problem 
 calls for him. Your thinking will be without 
 a center if you think without him. Human 
 society will be "a. muddle" if God be not 
 in the center. And your devout instincts 
 need him. For you have devout instincts even
 
 12 SERMONS 
 
 if you are not devout. There Is a prophet in 
 your soul whether you let him speak or not. 
 There is a prophet in every man's soul. The 
 prophet within you will know Jesus when he 
 comes into the temple of your thought. When 
 your intelligence finds him, the prophet within 
 you will know him. 
 
 When your intelligence finds him, and your 
 soul shall receive him, then your hands shall 
 serve him. Intelligence and devotion and labor 
 serve him. Intelligence and devotion and 
 labor shall join in serving him who came from 
 God. The three classes which recognized 
 Jesus when he was born in Bethlehem, — the 
 sages with their wisdom, the Simeons with 
 their devotion, and the shepherds with their 
 labor — shall find a parallel in your life. Intel- 
 ligence shall find the Lord, devotion shall ac- 
 cept him and labor shall serve him. The 
 day when Jesus was born in Bethlehem shall 
 be eclipsed by the day when Jesus is born in 
 your life. For the scene in Bethlehem is 
 nothing to you till you have made it your own. 
 The world's Christmas was when Jesus was 
 born in Bethlehem, but your Christmas will 
 be when Jesus shall come into your life. Then 
 you with the sages shall find him; with the 
 prophets you shall receive him, and with the 
 shepherds you shall serve him.
 
 II 
 
 "come unto me" 
 
 Matt. 2: 28 
 
 OOME one has said that these three words 
 ^^ more nearly express the attitude of Jesus 
 to mankind than any words that could be 
 chosen. It is the attitude of invitation — which 
 is the permanent attitude of Jesus. He knew 
 he had something to give men, and wanted 
 them to come and get it. He knew he could do 
 something for men, and he wanted them to 
 come and receive it. He could not look upon 
 a multitude but he was moved with compas- 
 sion. He could never see people about him 
 but he felt impelled to teach them. He could 
 never see people in want or in trouble but he 
 was impelled to help them. Thus he bore 
 himself through all his earthly life. 
 
 But Jesus came from God. He was the 
 Word, which was with God in the beginning. 
 He expressed God to men. He was in time 
 what he was in Eternity. God's eternal 
 thought was vocalized in the life of Jesus 
 Christ. God makes himself known in a great 
 many ways. He makes known his power and 
 wisdom in his works. He makes known his 
 
 13
 
 14 SERMONS 
 
 law in the human conscience. He makes 
 known his sovereignty and providence in 
 history and life. But Jesus Christ is the final 
 and full expression. "Here the whole Deity 
 is known. We see God in the face of Jesus 
 Christ." 
 
 And Jesus spoke for all the ages. It is quite 
 remarkable that so few of the teachings of Jesus 
 are local and temporary. The truths he taught 
 are of universal application. What Jesus said 
 of God is forever and everywhere true. God 
 is now and forever what he seems in Jesus 
 Christ. The attitude of Jesus is the attitude 
 of the eternal throne. Whenever a man comes 
 to God he can expect to be met in the spirit of 
 Jesus Christ. 
 
 "The homage that we render thee 
 Is still our Father's own; 
 No jealous claim or rivalry 
 
 Divides the Cross and Throne." 
 
 God's attitude is forever the inviting atti- 
 tude; and God's voice is forever saying, "Come 
 unto me." 
 
 And God calls us because he wants us; he 
 wants our lives; he wants our love; he wants 
 our service. 
 
 First of all: Christ wants us ourselves. There 
 are some things to which a man gives a spec- 
 ified service, and there are other things to
 
 SERMONS 15 
 
 which he gives himself. A man gives his em- 
 ployer a specified number of hours. He gives 
 his teacher a fair knowledge of certain les- 
 sons. He owes his friends certain social obli- 
 gations. In many directions he has limited 
 responsibilities. But to his home he gives 
 himself. He does not give sections of himself 
 to the things he loves. If his child be sick he 
 will sit by its bedside day and night, and his 
 last dollar and the last dollar he can get is at 
 its service. It is not, "I will give two hours 
 a day, or so much a week," but, "all I have, 
 and all I can do." All he is and all he has are 
 on demand that his child may be restored. 
 There is no measure and no limit, except the 
 measure and limit of ability. This is what it 
 means to give one's self. This is the measure 
 of all the highest obligations. And this is the 
 spirit of all the best service, of all service that 
 is trust- worthy and reliable. In some such 
 sense Christ wants you. It is not a section 
 of your personality, or of your time, or of your 
 means, but he wants you yourself, with all 
 which that implies. 
 
 And as Paul says, "This is your reasonable 
 service." It is reasonable you should give 
 yourself to your home, for your life is wrapped 
 up in your home. It is reasonable you should 
 give yourself to your country, for your country
 
 1 6 SERMONS 
 
 has in its keeping all that you have and are. 
 And it is reasonable you should give yourself 
 to God, for God is the giver of all you have and 
 the foundation of all you hope for. This con- 
 secration does not determine what you shall 
 do, but it determines the spirit of whatever 
 you may do. You may serve your home in 
 any one of a thousand different employments, 
 but you are at its call for anything it may need. 
 You may serve your country by being a good 
 citizen, and attending steadily to the work you 
 are engaged in, but you are at her call for spe- 
 cial service whenever she may need you. You 
 may be called upon to serve on the jury, to 
 serve as special police in case of disturbance, 
 or to go abroad as a soldier in case she is 
 threatened by foreign foes. You may serve 
 God in your home and in your daily calling, 
 but you are at the call of God to serve him in 
 whatever line his providence may lead you. 
 His claims are higher than the claims of coun- 
 try, for he made your country all it is. His 
 claims are higher than the claims of home. 
 God's gifts and God's care have made home 
 possible to you. He wants you with all you 
 have and all you are. He wants you with your 
 country, that you may serve your country in 
 his name. He wants you with your home, that 
 your home may itself belong to God and be a
 
 SERMONS 17 
 
 Christian home. And if God calls you to any 
 special service you will have but one answer: 
 "Here I am, Lord. Send me." There is evi- 
 dence that Christ called the apostles to dis- 
 cipleship before he called them to apostleship. 
 He called them into his kingdom before he 
 sent them out into his service. He wanted 
 them first, and then he wanted whatever service 
 they might be able to do. He called them to 
 salvation, and he then appointed them to apos- 
 tleship. He would first win a man to the truth, 
 and then make him a messenger of the truth. 
 Whatever Christ would have a man do, he 
 wants the man himself first of all. Loyalty 
 to Christ is the preliminary of all service. And 
 loyalty to Christ makes all service acceptable 
 and honorable. Personal loyalty consecrates 
 all that a man puts his hands to. If I am 
 Christ's, then all I have is his possession, and 
 all I do is a part of his service. 
 
 Second: Christ wants all we can make of 
 ourselves. The Christian life is not a repres- 
 sion but an inspiration. It is a new force in a 
 man's life. Jesus kept his disciples with him 
 three years, and never did three years so enlarge 
 and transform men. That was a rare school 
 those men attended the three years he remained 
 on earth. It transformed the clumsy, un- 
 taught fishermen of Galilee into the able and
 
 SERMONS 
 
 dignified advocates of the Gospel before whom 
 the people trembled at Pentecost. The men 
 who seemed so helpless and dependent when 
 he took them, became the competent and fear- 
 less leaders of the Christian hosts when he left 
 them. Never was there such a difference be- 
 tween the entrance and the graduation. He 
 knew the men he chose, the material of which 
 they were made. And he knew how to draw 
 out the best that was in them and to make the 
 most of all the gifts they had received. As he 
 called them in their simplicity, they served him 
 with their enlarged powers. He first of all 
 called them, and then he claimed all he had 
 made of them. In like manner he wants you, 
 and he wants all you can make of yourselves. 
 The man who brought his talent, and returned 
 it to his lord and said : " Lo! here is thy talent; 
 take that is thine," received no commendation. 
 All the gifts of God are a trust, and God expects 
 them to be increased as well as used. We must 
 improve them as well as employ them. In fact 
 we improve them when we employ them. And 
 they never improve so fast as when they are 
 most employed. Every man is to use his 
 gifts for service, and also for increase. 
 
 And this does not apply simply to what is 
 technically considered the season of growth. 
 It applies no more to school than to home; no
 
 SERMONS 19 
 
 more to college than to business. For a man's 
 growth is not all made in youth and his educa- 
 tion is not all acquired in school. The soldier 
 does not get all his military training in the 
 academy; the lawyer does not gain all his 
 acumen in the law school; and the minister 
 does not get all his theology in the theological 
 seminary. There have been good soldiers who 
 never saw West Point. And there have been 
 scholarly and effective men who never saw a 
 university. And this is not said to the dis- 
 credit of West Point or of the university. But 
 it is simply to show that there are other roads 
 to manhood besides the beaten track. A man 
 has more schoolmasters than he knows, and 
 he has more lessons than he recognizes, and he 
 pays more tuition bills than he thinks. Every 
 one we have anything to do with is a teacher 
 to us, everything that happens to us has a 
 lesson in it. Everything that happens to us 
 helps to make us. How it makes us, depends on 
 how w^e hold ourselves to it, just as other schools 
 depend on the attention more than on their own 
 efficiency. They are effective as we make them 
 so, and they mold us as we hold ourselves to 
 them. 
 
 "We are building every day, 
 In a good or evil way; 
 And the structure as it grows 
 Will our inmost selves disclose.
 
 20 SERMONS 
 
 "Till in every arch and line 
 
 All our faults and failings shine; 
 It may grow a castle grand, 
 Or a wreck upon the sand. 
 
 "Build it well, whate'er you do; 
 
 Build it straight and strong and true, 
 Build it clean and high and broad; 
 Build it for the eye of God." 
 
 The bee does not gather all her honey from 
 the walled garden, nor from the field sown for 
 her, but she finds many a flower with choicest 
 sweet in the wild wood, and in the open field. 
 
 "She gathers honey, all the day 
 From every opening flower." 
 
 We find many delightful people who have 
 not had what people call the best advantages, 
 either of school or of society. They just drank 
 in the sunshine as they came along, and gath- 
 ered the sweets from every flower on their way. 
 It is not the fault of the schools, but biggest 
 dunces often come from the best schools; it is 
 not the fault of the social order, but the most 
 ill-mannered men you find will be those who 
 know the customs and rules of the best society, 
 and who scrupulously observe them, too. No 
 man can be so cuttingly insolent as he who 
 knows how to polish the shaft he shoots, A 
 man's learning is not in proportion to his 
 schools, nor is his politeness in proportion to
 
 SERMONS 21 
 
 his social advantages. Our schools are the 
 glory of our age, and the hope of our future. 
 But there are limitations to what they can do, 
 and there are things they need never attempt 
 to do. A college diploma is not a guaranty 
 of scholarship, any more than a church letter 
 is a guaranty of sainthood. A college diploma 
 often covers a lazy record, and a limping course. 
 Often they come to us in sheep's-skin clothing, 
 but inwardly they are simpering fools. It is 
 not the fault of the schools, but it shows their 
 limitations. There are no schools to the best 
 things. We have schools of art which do 
 grand work; but no school of art has ever had 
 the temerity to advertise that it turned out 
 artists. They turn out copyists and critics 
 and teachers of art, but not artists. There 
 are schools of elocution, but they do not even 
 pretend to turn out orators. That is as much 
 above their might as Burns found certain 
 things above the might of kings. 
 
 "A king can mak' a belted Knight, 
 A Marquis, Duke and a' that; 
 An honest man's above his might, 
 A man's a man for a' that." 
 
 So it is true of artists and orators, as it is of 
 poets, "They are born and not made." And 
 when God makes one he will open a door for 
 him somewhere. They say there are no poets
 
 22 SERMONS 
 
 now as there were a generation ago. But the 
 same was said in the days of Tennyson and 
 Longfellow. We used to see the statement 
 quite frequently, that, "We have no such 
 poets now as Burns and Byron." Then they 
 would name Tennyson and Longfellow as our 
 best. Of course there are no such poets now 
 as in a former age; but there may be poets just 
 as good, but of a different type. The genius 
 of one age will not express itself in the terms of 
 another. The poets of one age will not be 
 like the poets of another. Homer's Iliad could 
 not have been written in the Christian Era. 
 Milton's Paradise Lost could not have been 
 written in the nineteenth century. But if 
 God should send a genius like Homer to this 
 generation, he would express himself in such 
 different speech and in such different form from 
 the blind Homer of three thousand years ago 
 that we might never think to compare them, 
 so diverse would they be. If God should send 
 another Milton to the twentieth century, he 
 would speak in the tongue of the twentieth 
 century, and men might never think of Milton 
 when they were reading him. They might 
 still go on murmuring: "There are no Miltons 
 in this matter of fact generation, in this twen- 
 tieth century, as there were in the seven- 
 teenth." But if God ever sends the world a
 
 SERMONS 23 
 
 poet, the poet will find the door to the world's 
 heart, and he will find the key to the world's 
 speech. 
 
 But I have been drawn away from my 
 thought, and yet perhaps not so far away as it 
 seems. I was saying: God wants all a man is, 
 and all he can make of himself. And what he 
 can make of himself does nor depend on his 
 opportunities so much as on his use of them. 
 All that happens to him helps to make him. 
 Every event in his life is a lesson if he will 
 only learn it. Every friend is a teacher though 
 he hold no certificate. Every enemy is a 
 teacher, too, if the man be only wise enough to 
 learn. Good fortune may teach a man, and 
 ill fortune none the less. Joy is a teacher, and 
 so is sorrow; we learn from laughter, and not 
 the less from tears. Everything speaks to 
 him who has ears to hear; everything sings to 
 him who has music in his soul; everything 
 teaches him who has the spirit of a scholar. 
 The whole world is a book to him who can 
 turn its pages. Humanity is a library to him 
 who knows how to draw its volumes. Or a 
 man may go away empty from the grandest 
 lessons that are ever given. One of the dullest 
 men I ever spent an evening with had travelled 
 round the world under the best guides that 
 could be given him. And I have been charmed
 
 24 SERMONS 
 
 many a time by men who had seen little 
 beyond their own neighborhood. It is true 
 now as in the days of Jesus: "Men see with 
 their eyes, and hear with their ears; and under- 
 stand with their heart." It is not the sights 
 or the sounds, or the truth ; it is the eye and the 
 ear and the heart. The heart that is on the 
 alert "Finds tongues in trees, books in the 
 running brooks; sermons in stones and good 
 in everything." 
 
 Christ wants you, and he wants all you are. 
 He wants you, and he wants all you can make 
 of yourself. He called his disciples for what 
 they were; he kept them with him until he 
 made them what he wanted them to be. He 
 calls us all as we are, and then if we follow 
 where he leads, he will make us what he wants 
 us to be. Jesus called his disciples one by one, 
 and calls all men into his service. It was, 
 "Matthew, follow me"; or it was, "John, 
 James, Peter, follow me." He spoke to them, 
 one by one. He also said, "Come unto me all 
 ye that labor." "If any man thirst, let him 
 come to me and drink." In the prophetic 
 forecast it was said, "Ho ! every one that thirst- 
 eth." It is the same today. God's universal 
 call may be heard of any man who will listen. 
 Every man knows God has a right to him. 
 Every man knows God wants him. Every
 
 SERMONS 25 
 
 man knows God needs him. This general 
 call is not audible, but it is as plain as if it were. 
 It speaks in conscience, in Providence, and in 
 the gentler influences of divine grace. 
 
 But the call of God is personal as well as 
 general. God speaks to men one by one now 
 as he did of old. You all know the general 
 truth that God has a right to you, that he 
 needs you, and that he wants you. This is 
 the substance of his general call. And you 
 have all felt at times a more personal sense 
 of God's claim. The general sense of truth 
 has become a personal conviction. It has 
 taken a personal form, and you have said in 
 your own heart, "I ought to give myself to 
 God, and yield myself to his service." The 
 general call of God became focussed in your 
 own heart. 
 
 Christ now calls for you — for all you are — for 
 all you can make of yourself. He calls for you 
 — not for a tribute from your estate — not for a 
 portion of your time — not for a fragment of 
 your strength. But he wants you yourself. 
 He does not want the fag-ends of your life, or 
 what there is left when you have served your- 
 self; but he wants your life itself, with all its 
 vigor and force, with all its purpose and power. 
 Every man had his own call, and ever}^ man 
 is called in his own way; but when God does
 
 26 SERMONS 
 
 call a man he calls him for the man himself, and 
 when the man responds to God he brings his 
 life with him. 
 
 And God does not call all men to the same 
 work any more than he calls all men in the 
 same way. He calls one man to go across the 
 seas to preach Jesus, and he calls another man 
 to stay at home and live Jesus. And it often 
 happens that he who stays at home has the 
 harder mission. It is sometimes harder to live 
 Jesus than it is to preach him. And the most 
 effective way of presenting Jesus is to embody 
 him in our life. And each man must hear his 
 own call, and each man must obey his own 
 orders. One man cannot hear for another, 
 and one man cannot answer for another. One 
 man cannot fill another's place, and one man 
 cannot do another's work. God wants of each 
 man the service for which he made him, and 
 the service to which he calls him. 
 
 First of all then, God wants you that he 
 may do something for you. He can enlarge 
 and inspire your life. He wants you also that 
 you may do something for him. First he calls 
 you for salvation, and then he calls you to 
 service. First come and receive a blessing, 
 then go forth and be a blessing.
 
 Ill 
 
 WHICH OF YOU, BY TAKING THOUGHT, CAN 
 ADD ONE CUBIT TO HIS STATURE?" 
 Matt. 6: 27 
 
 T KNEW a man years ago, who was a loyal 
 ''■ supporter of his church and a firm behever 
 in its doctrines, but who never would become 
 a member of the church. He was a regular 
 attendant and a loyal supporter. He believed 
 in the church, and believed in the work it 
 was doing. He was a well-educated man, 
 well-informed by large reading and wide travel. 
 In talking with him of the matter one day, I 
 asked him why he was not a member of the 
 church he believed in so heartily, and sup- 
 ported so loyally. He believed in God, he 
 believed in the church and he believed in all 
 the Christian doctrines. Why did he not do 
 as he believed? He replied, that it was be- 
 cause he believed the doctrines of his church 
 that he was not a church member, and did not 
 claim to be a Christian. According to the 
 doctrine of his church, the matter of his con- 
 version and salvation was entirely in the hands 
 of God. "God made me, and God put me 
 here. I am just what he made me, and just 
 
 27
 
 28 SERMONS 
 
 where he put me. If God intends to save me 
 he will do so; if he don't, he won't. That is 
 all there is to it, and that is the end of it." 
 He was thoroughly fortified in his position, 
 and seemed thoroughly satisfied with it. I 
 do not know how much of blufif there was in 
 it, but he seemed sincere. At all events it 
 was impossible to move him from it. It was 
 the baldest putting of the case I ever heard. 
 I had heard Arminians in Methodist pulpits 
 try to reduce Calvinism to an absurdity in 
 some such fashion as this, but never heard one 
 who believed in the scheme who would con- 
 sent to such a conclusion. 
 
 The thologlcal world has been coming nearer 
 together than they were in those days. The 
 man who exalts the sovereignty of God, and 
 calls himself a Calvinist, and the man who 
 exalts the freedom of man and calls himself an 
 Arminian, can fully agree the one with the 
 other. As they have come to understand each 
 other, they have found that they both believe 
 in the sovereignty of God, and they both be- 
 lieve in the freedom of man. The two truths 
 have been so conceived and so stated that they 
 are seen to run parallel with each other, and 
 not across each other. Some make one line 
 heavier and some the other. But as the best
 
 SERMONS 29 
 
 thinkers conceive them in this later day, the 
 two lines of thought do not conflict. 
 
 The exaggerated idea of these doctrines, 
 which this old gentleman has referred to, has 
 left the church and taken refuge in the schools 
 of philosophy. It has fled the lecture-room of 
 the theological seminary, and taken refuge in 
 the lecture-room of material science. It is 
 known by a different name, and it is defined 
 in difi'erent terms, but in these material spec- 
 ulations it appears in a harder and more relent- 
 less form than it ever took on in theological 
 discussion. Native Depravity and Original 
 Sin in the church have been supplanted by 
 Heredity in the schools, and the Federal Head- 
 ship of Adam in the church has been supplanted 
 by the Solidarity of the Race in the schools. 
 The discarded fatalism of the religious world 
 has been taken up by the apostles of modern 
 speculation. In the scheme of these specu- 
 lations, the same wheels which grind out the 
 physical events of the earth, grind out also the 
 history of nations, and the conduct and des- 
 tinies of men. They teach that, "Mental and 
 moral traits depend on ancestry, and sentiment 
 and character depend on climate and food. 
 Heredity determines a man's powers, and en- 
 vironment determines his conditions, and the 
 two together determine his character, and
 
 30 SERMONS 
 
 shape his life and destiny." And there is in 
 this scheme no such relief as the older Cal- 
 vinism gave. There are no Doctrines of Grace, 
 no great multitude of the elect to be redeemed 
 by the power and Spirit of God. All men are 
 like Esau, they find no place for repentance 
 though they seek it carefully with tears 
 
 There is truth in all these forms of doctrine 
 and speculation. The trouble is they are too 
 narrow to cover the whole ground. There is a 
 great deal of truth in the doctrine of heredity, 
 but it is not all there is. There are other 
 truths just as well authenticated with which 
 it must be made to harmonize. There is a 
 deal of truth in the doctrine of environment, 
 but it is not all there is. There is a very close 
 relation between matter and thought, but 
 matter does not account for thought. There 
 is a very close relation between heredity and 
 character, but character is not inherited. 
 There is a very close relation between environ- 
 ment and destiny. But environment does not 
 control destiny. 
 
 We can all readily see that material condi- 
 tions have a great deal to do with mental 
 traits, and with moral results. But they do 
 not explain mental action, nor account for 
 the facts of conscience and character. We can 
 all see that heredity has a great deal to do
 
 SERMONS 31 
 
 with conduct; but it does not altogether ex- 
 plain conduct, or conscience, or conviction. 
 A man's surroundings have a great deal to do 
 with what he is; but they do not explain what 
 he is, nor why he became such. There are 
 things in a man's life and character which 
 heredity and environment do not explain. 
 We must look for something else as a factor 
 in the common result. 
 
 There are three elements which enter into 
 the forming of character and the shaping of 
 life. Modern speculators admit two of them; 
 heredity, environment; I would add perso?t- 
 ality. Heredity is a mighty factor in the 
 shaping of every man's life. He can not be 
 any more than he is, nor essentially different 
 from what he is. As the text says he cannot 
 add one cubit to his stature. He cannot 
 change five feet six to six feet five. He may 
 develop his powers but it must be essentially 
 in the lines and within the limits of his natural 
 inheritence. A man with small, feeble body 
 may strengthen and enlarge himself somewhat, 
 but he can hardly hope to become a man of 
 massive and robust frame. A man may im- 
 prove his mental gifts, but if he be wise he 
 will seek to improve those he has rather than 
 to create those he has not. " Poeta nascitur, 
 non fit" the old Latin used to say. A poet
 
 32 SERMONS 
 
 is born — not made. Not everybody can be 
 a poet or a painter or a singer. Not every- 
 body can be a superior mechanic or a great 
 inventor. There is a vast difference in the 
 amount of inherited skill. So there is in- 
 herited some of the framework of character. 
 Some are quick and passionate. Some are 
 calm and patient. They may intensify or curb 
 these tendencies but they exist and must be 
 recognized. Each man has his own problem 
 in the shaping of his character. There is 
 doubtless a difference in the purely moral ten- 
 dencies of men. In some natures conscience 
 seems almost left out; while in others it is 
 very strong. It is almost morbidly sensitive 
 in some natures. Some are naturally avari- 
 cious and stingy. Some seem to be born 
 liars; their respect for truth is so feeble that 
 they begin lying very early and keep it up 
 very late. Then there are kleptomaniacs or 
 born theives. This is heredity, and you can 
 easily see how mighty a factor it is in men's 
 lives. 
 
 Another element to be considered in the 
 building of character is what modern specula- 
 tion calls environment. Literally this is what 
 lies round a man; his surroundings; his circum- 
 stances. Heredity and environment include 
 what is born in a man, and what lies about a
 
 SERMONS 33 
 
 man; the elements of his nature, and the set- 
 ting of his Hfe. The setting of a man's Hfe 
 has a wonderful influence in the shaping of 
 his character. It is not strange that to many 
 it seems to be the controlling element. To say, 
 one is born in the heart of Christendom or in 
 the heart of heathendom, in a Christian home 
 or in the slums, would almost seem to settle 
 the whole question as to what a man shall be. 
 And it is the same with heredity. When you 
 consider how differently men are constituted 
 it seems as if that settles the whole question 
 of their career. When you consider how dif- 
 ferently they are circumstanced it seems as if 
 that settled the whole question of their career. 
 Put the two together and many men say we 
 have all the elements of the problem of life 
 in these two things. 
 
 But we have only to look a little closer to 
 see that neither of these covers the case, nor 
 do both of them cover the case. They do not 
 explain all the facts. They do not explain 
 what every man knows of himself, and they do 
 not explain what every man sees about him. 
 They leave no place for conscience, and no 
 room for responsibility. If a man's nature 
 and setting control his life then conscience is 
 a baseless dream, and obligation is an airy 
 fancy. A sense of injustice is itself unjust, 
 
 3
 
 34 SERMONS 
 
 and a sense of guilt for one's own conduct is 
 absurd, and to blame another for a wrong is 
 itself wrong. Yet these are common experi- 
 ences in every heart, and no logic can banish 
 them and no philosophy can explain them away. 
 We blame others for the wrongs they do us ; we 
 blame ourselves for the wrongs we do them. 
 The pressure of obligation is on every life, 
 and every one claims of others the treatment 
 he counts due himself. These are fixed points 
 which cannot be put away, and they have a 
 significance which cannot be misread. 
 
 We come, therefore, to the third element in 
 the forming of character and the shaping of 
 life, which we call personality, the man him- 
 self as a point of power. Heredity explains 
 a great deal; environment explains a great 
 deal; but there will be a great many chasms 
 to leap if we do not take into account the per- 
 sonality — the man himself, handling his powers 
 and shaping his circumstances. A man was 
 born on the shores of the Aegean Sea with the 
 gifts and instincts of an orator. But a stam- 
 mering tongue threatened to nullify his gifts 
 and smother his instincts. But by the force 
 of his tremendous will he held himself to the 
 task of overcoming this great obstacle, and 
 the name of Demosthenes has been the syno- 
 nym of eloquence for over two thousand years.
 
 SERMONS 35 
 
 A boy in school was ridiculed by his teacher 
 for his dulness. The reproaches stung him 
 to the quick, and he determined to falsify the 
 sneering predictions the teacher had uttered. 
 The history and life and work of Sir Isaac 
 Newton were the result of that changed pur- 
 pose. The gifts were there, the environment 
 was there, and now the personality asserted 
 itself. He could not have been what he was 
 but for the gifts he inherited. He could not 
 have done what he did but for the opportunity 
 afforded him in his surroundings and environ- 
 ment. But he would not have been what he 
 was nor could he have done what he did, had 
 he not marshalled his gifts and seized the oc- 
 casion and turned it to account by the aid of 
 his personality. It was heredity and environ- 
 ment in the hands of personality directed to a 
 purpose and guided to a result. A man can only 
 do what the gifts of his nature enable him to do, 
 but he can frustrate the gifts or he can enlarge 
 and quicken them. A man can seize the op- 
 portunity offered to him, or he can let it pass 
 him. He can enter the open door, or he can 
 loiter till it be closed. If no doors open he 
 cannot enter, but no matter how many doors 
 open, if he will not enter. And doors will 
 always open to a man if he only wait and watch. 
 It is quite common for men to adopt a
 
 36 SERMONS 
 
 conclusion broader than their premise. When 
 a man has shown you how potent heredity is 
 in shaping character and life, he often assumes 
 that he has settled the whole question. When 
 he has shown that a criminal inherited his 
 evil drift from his ancestors, he assumes that 
 that ends all controversy. It is all charge- 
 able to heredity. The man must not be 
 blamed for what his father was, nor for what 
 his father did. It is a misfortune and not a 
 crime, he tells you. We may readily concede 
 that the man is not to blame for the drift he 
 inherited from his father. But the drift he 
 inherited was not the crime he committed. 
 It was yielding to the drift which constituted 
 the crime. It did not become a crime till 
 personality took hold of the inherited drift 
 and gave it effect in deed. 
 
 When the Keely Cure was at its height of 
 popularity, one of our newspapers said: "If 
 this cure prove all that is claimed for it, it 
 will change the whole aspect of the temperance 
 question. If it should be shown that intemper- 
 ance is not a crime but a disease, then the 
 preacher must go out and the doctor must 
 come in. The temperance lecturer and the 
 temperance paper must be set aside, and med- 
 ical treatment must take their place. Instead
 
 SERMONS 37 
 
 of giving the drunkard temperance tracts, you 
 will give him Chloride of Gold." 
 
 All this sounds very plausible, but is very 
 narrow. It only sees one side of the truth, 
 and makes that stand for the whole. It is 
 no new thing that drunkenness is a disease. 
 Temperance lecturers have long made this one 
 of the chief indictments against the liquor 
 habit. Its great peril was that it did create 
 a disease which was beyond a man's control. 
 They have always insisted that alcohol pro- 
 duced a diseased condition of the system, 
 which craved indulgence, and made escape 
 from the habit more and more difficult. But 
 the craving did not indulge itself. Sometimes 
 a man inherits the condition from his drunken 
 father. But he does not get drunk on the 
 whiskey his father drank. He may crave 
 whiskey because his father drank w^hiskey. 
 But he need not drink it unless he choose. 
 And it will be true of him, as has often been 
 said of others, "Whiskey will not hurt you, 
 if you let it alone." The craving is a mis- 
 fortune; the yielding to it is the crime. Being 
 a disease does not prevent its being a crime. 
 It may be all the more a crime because it is a 
 disease. If alcohol produces a disease, then it 
 is a very seirous crime to indulge in its use. 
 When we are asked: "Is intemperance a dis-
 
 38 SERMONS 
 
 ease or a crime?" We answer, "Both." So 
 far as the inflamed condition of the system 
 is concerned, it is a disease; so far as it is a 
 man's assent to this craving, it is a crime. It 
 is a crime for a man to indulge in that which 
 produces a diseased condition, and tends to 
 fasten itself upon a man's life. 
 
 In a sense all sin is disease. The disease 
 is the evil tendency which prompts to evil. 
 The sin is obeying this evil tendency in evil 
 conduct. The evil tendencies may be born 
 in us — some stronger — some weaker. It is 
 when one listens to the promptings of evil 
 that he becomes guilty of sin. It is the con- 
 sent of the personality that constitutes the 
 sin. The battle of our life is to overcome the 
 evil promptings of our nature, and the evil 
 allurements of our environment. "Let no 
 man say when he is tempted, I am tempted 
 of God. For God cannot be tempted of evil, 
 neither tempteth he any man. But every 
 man is tempted when he is drawn away of 
 his own lusts and enticed. Then lust when it 
 is conceived, bringeth forth sin, and sin when 
 it is finished, bringeth forth death." It is no 
 holiday contest, this contest of the soul for 
 its own deliverance. But it is a contest in 
 which every man must engage, and in which 
 every man may win. Here are the powers and
 
 SERMONS 39 
 
 faculties God has given you as your inheritance. 
 Here are the opportunities and openings he has 
 placed before you. What is to come of it all 
 is the question your personality has to settle. 
 In the problem of life, personality is the lead- 
 ing factor. It cannot change the inheritance 
 of nature, but it can turn that inheritance to 
 account. It cannot add one cubit to your 
 stature, or one inch to your height. But it 
 can make you every inch a man, and every 
 inch a Christian. It cannot choose the environ- 
 ments of your life, but it can enter openings 
 that appear, and it can make the most of the 
 opportunities that offer. 
 
 Personality has done wonders with both 
 heredity and environment. It has made mod- 
 erate gifts accomplish marvelous things. Men 
 have taken their moderate gifts, and by per- 
 sistent and faithful application, have put to 
 shame the splendidly equipped, who have in- 
 dolently frittered away their patrimony. Out 
 of the most untoward surroundings it has often 
 found its way to the grandest attainments. 
 The boy from the log cabin has beaten the 
 boy from the palace. The barefooted boy 
 has outstripped the boy of pampered indul- 
 gence. The plodder has outstripped the genius. 
 The tortoise has passed the hare. Whether 
 a man be largely endowed, or moderately
 
 40 SERMONS 
 
 endowed, his success will depend on the use 
 he makes of what God has given him. 
 
 And a man never works alone. To every 
 soul struggling for the mastery there is prom- 
 ised, and there is given, the all-conquering 
 grace of God. God is forever on the side of 
 struggling souls. Against whatever odds of 
 inheritance or of surroundings a man may con- 
 tend, the grace of God is the assurance of vic- 
 tory. "Who shall deliver me from the body 
 of this death?" said the apostle, as he reviewed 
 the long and varying struggle. " I thank God, 
 through Jesus Christ our Lord." Through 
 him I shall gain the victory; through him I 
 shall win the crown. To every soul there 
 may come the same assurance. Whatever 
 the odds against you, his grace is sufficient 
 for you. You need not count the odds against 
 you when God is on your side. It is all alike 
 with him, and you shall, "Come off conqueror, 
 and more than conqueror, through him that 
 hath loved you."
 
 IV 
 
 IT DOTH NOT YET APPEAR WHAT WE SHALL BE, 
 BUT WHEN HE SHALL APPEAR WE SHALL 
 BE LIKE him" 
 
 I John 3: 2 
 
 ^X^HE Apostle here gives a result and a reason 
 ■*- for it. He confesses himself unable to 
 describe the future form and character of the 
 sons of God. It was beyond the reach even of 
 his comprehension. He attempts no descrip- 
 tion of what could not be described. There are 
 things which human language cannot express, 
 which human thought cannot compass, which 
 human imagination even cannot portray. There 
 are scenes in nature which no painter can ade- 
 quately represent or canvas contain. There 
 are ideas revealed to human thought and ex- 
 periences revealed in human life, which no man 
 can fully portray in words. Those words best 
 represent them which only point to them and 
 leave them in their indefiniteness for the imagi- 
 nation to fill out. The power of Milton lies 
 in the undefined greatness of the wondrous 
 images he calls up. His grandest conceptions 
 he never describes, but just says enough to 
 turn your thought in the direction of the images 
 
 41
 
 42 SERMONS 
 
 his own imagination sees and which he wishes 
 to reveal to you. You doubtless have seen 
 his Paradise Lost represented in panorama. If 
 so, you could not fail to notice the difference 
 between the poet's image and the painter's 
 copy. Compare, for instance, the scene where 
 the Messiah is represented as coming in his 
 awful chariot, with his terrible right hand 
 hurling thunderbolts into the ranks of his 
 discomfited foes, and driving them howling 
 over the walls of Heaven into the boundless 
 darkness beyond and below. Compare this 
 picture of the poet where description fades 
 away in indefinite vastness, with the same scene 
 as the painter gives it on the panorama. Here 
 you have a very ordinary looking man driving, 
 rather fast, in a gaudy carriage, and forcing out 
 a few streaks of light from something which he 
 holds in his right hand. These streaks of light 
 represent the thunderbolts of the poet. Take 
 again his description of Satan, "Stretching 
 rood on rood o'er the burning lake," and when 
 he spoke the vast caverns of the deep did 
 groan. Compare this with the picture of Satan 
 which the painter gives. The poet's power 
 consists in the indefinite greatness of the images 
 he suggests but does not describe, leaving our 
 minds to follow and fill out. 
 
 This is the favorite style of the Bible in
 
 SERMONS 43 
 
 speaking of eternal things, and it is a great deal 
 more impressive and really reveals a great 
 deal more, and reveals it more accurately than 
 any attempt at description could possibly do. 
 We are far more impressed with the majesty 
 of God when he says, " I am that I am," or " I 
 am, because I am," than if the Word had gone 
 on to define God and give an analysis of his 
 being and attributes. We see more of Heaven 
 in the simple expression, "Eye hath not seen, 
 nor ear heard, nor heart conceived," then we 
 ever could see in the most glowing description 
 language could compass. 
 
 The text is a very fine illustration of the 
 propriety and power of this mode of teaching. 
 It is not a description, but one of those poetic 
 hints at the destiny of the Sons of God which 
 set in motion our own thoughts. "We know 
 not what we shall be." Modern theologians 
 would hardly confess this. The omniscient 
 authors of our theological story books would 
 hardly confess this. But he who had communed 
 with Jesus and had leaned upon his breast, to 
 whom afterwards the heavens opened and its 
 voices spoke, he confesses "We know not what 
 we shall be." Our future destiny is not only 
 a mystery, hid away among events and scenes 
 not yet revealed to us, but it is so vast we could 
 not comprehend it if it were revealed. We
 
 44 SERMONS 
 
 not only cannot know it, but we could not 
 grasp it if we could know it. Even if our 
 thought could get the right range, we should 
 be lost in the attempt to follow it out. 
 
 The Apostle here does not attempt to com- 
 pass the destiny of the Sons of God. He 
 simply gives a hint that may point in the direc- 
 tion in which that destiny lies. "We shall be 
 like Christ" was the most he could say and all 
 he needed to say. No other words could ex- 
 press so much. And they are words that grow 
 with our Christian growth as we know more 
 of Christ. All there is in Christ is wrapped in 
 those words. And as we learn more and more 
 of him, the vastness of our future glory expands 
 our thought. "We shall be like him for we 
 shall see him as he is." Destined to be like 
 him, his presence shall complete the image. 
 
 One thought that this figure suggests very 
 vividly is, that the blessedness of the future 
 will consist in being like Christ and not simply 
 being with him. To be with Christ is a blessed 
 thing for those who are like him, or who are 
 growing into his likeness and have learned to 
 love it. But it is the likeness of Christ in us 
 that makes his actual presence a blessing to 
 us. His presence will be a congenial place to 
 those who are growing into the same image. A 
 great mistake is often made here. A great
 
 SERMONS 45 
 
 many lay more stress on being received into 
 the presence of Christian glory than on having 
 that glory found within them. Thousands of 
 people think that if by any chance they can 
 only open the door where the sons of God are to 
 dwell, the end of their Christian hope is at- 
 tained. We see the same mistake in regard to 
 earthly things. Men will strive to their utmost 
 to attain some station for which they in no 
 wise are fitted, and where all their life must be 
 unnatural and irksome. They lose sight of 
 the fact that they will rise naturally to the 
 place for which they fit themselves. They do 
 not see how foolish it is to struggle for a posi- 
 tion to which they would rise of themselves, if 
 they worked as hard to prepare for the place 
 as they do to gain it. Scholars in school or 
 college often work harder to make a false 
 appearance and to secure a false mark and 
 false grade than they would need to do to 
 deserve and secure a true mark and grade. 
 They forget that after all is done they do not 
 really belong to the grade which the school 
 record indicates. The studies to which they 
 are introduced will not be intelligible or satis- 
 factory or profitable. But if they had pre- 
 pared themselves, they would be on a level 
 with that grade, whether the record put them 
 there or not. So it is not so important that a
 
 46 SERMONS 
 
 man should enter the kingdom of Christ as that 
 that kingdom should enter his life. The sur- 
 roundings of the kingdom are adapted to the 
 disciple of that kingdom. Any other would be 
 as manifestly out of place as an ignorant man 
 in the highest grade of classical school. Those 
 unlike Christ in purpose and character and life 
 would feel oppressed in his presence by the 
 dissimilarity. It would be an intolerable con- 
 straint. Men seek their associates from those 
 like themselves. Robbers and thieves do not 
 choose honest men for their permanent com- 
 panions and chosen friends. The keepers of 
 dramshops are not inclined to spend their 
 evenings in temperance societies. The frivo- 
 lous devotees of fashion and folly do not enjoy 
 themselves in the society of whole-souled men. 
 Men seek their own class. They sink to its 
 level by moral gravitation. They may lift 
 themselves above it for a time, by some tem- 
 porary spasm, but they will sink back again 
 when the spasm ceases. They will not abide 
 permanently with those whose purposes and 
 tastes cross their own. They may wish to be 
 reckoned with those better than themselves, 
 but they will go to their own place the moment 
 their inclinations are allowed free play and they 
 cease to act a constrained part. 
 
 So those in no wise like Christ not only can
 
 SERMONS 47 
 
 not be with him, but would not wish to be. 
 The presence of Christ would be a perpetual 
 rebuke to every thought their hearts ever 
 cherished and would repress every purpose to 
 which they had given their lives. To a man 
 who had nothing of Christ in him, who was in 
 no wise like him in his moral temper, the atmos- 
 phere of Heaven would be stifling. So the 
 chief element of Heaven is likeness to Christ. 
 This is the great central feature of its joys. 
 All the rest is but the framework. This is the 
 picture. It will depend more on the likeness 
 of Christ formed in us than on the presence of 
 Christ before us; more on what we are than on 
 where we are. 
 
 A second thought suggested by the text is, 
 that the completed likeness of the future is the 
 natural outgrowth of the present. Christianity 
 in the soul is more than a wish. Many men 
 have wished to be better and still continued to 
 grow worse. A wish to rise may not ever check 
 the rapidity with which a man is sinking. A 
 man who has stepped off from a precipice may 
 wish he might step back again, but the wish 
 will not take him back. Many a man has 
 looked with longing eyes from the abyss of 
 dissipated degradation and wished with frantic 
 earnestness that he were back at the starting 
 point of his descent. But his wishes do not
 
 48 SERMONS 
 
 lift him out nor return the promise of former 
 days which had been once despised and re- 
 jected. Christianity in the soul is more than 
 this. It is a life implanted. It is the likeness 
 of Christ begun. Fellowship with Christ is 
 no mere charm that opens the treasures of his 
 Kingdom. It is the beginning of a new life 
 "It is Christ formed within us." Very dimly 
 formed, perhaps, but yet really there. The 
 image may be very faint but it will grow more 
 and more distinct till it covers or obliterates 
 every other image and we become "like him." 
 Ours may be but the first fruits of the Spirit. 
 But it is a specimen of the coming harvest 
 whose approach it suggests and proves. The 
 grain of mustard seed is very small, but it has 
 in it the promise of a great tree. The morning 
 twilight may be very dim, but it gives promise 
 of growing brighter and brighter, of shining 
 more and more unto the perfect day. The 
 Christian looks forward, therefore, to no 
 strange transformation. He will experience 
 the completion of what was begun here and 
 what he has longed and labored for on earth. 
 The spirit which here struggled for the mastery 
 of the corruptions of the flesh and the wiles of 
 Satan, will there be complete in its triumph and 
 victory and control. 
 
 I notice in the third place that the process
 
 SERMONS 49 
 
 of growth in the future is the same as the 
 process of growth in the present. Acquaint- 
 ance with Christ develops the germ here; the 
 sight of Christ is to complete the growth there. 
 We grow slowly into his likeness here as we 
 dimly read his character; we shall open in to 
 his full likeness there as we stand before him 
 and see him face to face. There is nothing 
 unnatural in this. We grow like that we look 
 upon and dwell with. The chameleon is not 
 the only example of colors changing with 
 surrounding objects. It is a well-known pi'in- 
 ciple of human life. The painter looks at his 
 favorite models for hours, not that he may copy 
 them or even imitate them, but that he may 
 catch their spirit and acquire a similar style 
 of taste. The musician studies the works 
 of the best masters and listens to their strains, 
 not merely to analyze them, but that his own 
 taste may insensibly be elevated and purified 
 by the communion. By long study of an 
 author a man's style of expression gradually 
 grows to resemble his, not by any mimicry but 
 by natural power of association and contact. 
 When two men associate together they each 
 partake of the other. The resemblance in 
 families between brothers and sisters is not 
 all inherited. It is partly the transformation 
 of one by another. A man is known by the
 
 50 SERMONS 
 
 company he keeps, not simply because he would 
 naturally associate with those like him, but 
 because he would naturally become like those 
 with whom he associates. The characters we 
 live with and love have an untold influence 
 upon us. This law is not changed when we 
 pass into the region of faith. Beings whom 
 "unseen we love" have their influence in 
 shaping us as well as those we see. Famil- 
 iarity with the mere thought of Christ would 
 influence us. Still more influential is the 
 personal communion of those who believe 
 in his name. The more close the sympathy, 
 the more intimate the communion, the more 
 mighty the influence. We never grow weary 
 of the acquaintance of Christ. We never can 
 fathom the depths of his character. It is one 
 of those things that grow vaster the more we 
 know of them. Some things bear acquaint- 
 ance, we know; others seem to be exhausted 
 at the first glance and after that they weary 
 us. Some paintings look beautiful at first 
 sight, and after that seem common and mean- 
 ingless. Others attract no special attenton 
 when we first see them, but grow full of expres- 
 sion and depth of beauty as we gaze at them 
 and study them. Some tunes only bear hear- 
 ing once or twice. A large share of the popular 
 music of the day is of this kind. Others sound
 
 SERMONS 51 
 
 the sweeter the oftener they are repeated. 
 Some buildings attract our attention as we pass 
 them. But when we become familiar with 
 them they are seen to be irregular and without 
 any controlling idea or design. Others make 
 no impression on us at first, but as we study 
 them we are more and more impressed with 
 their beauty and proportion. It is said that 
 on first entering St. Peter's at Rome a man is 
 not much impressed with its great size. But 
 as he remains and compares magnitudes, as he 
 sees men in different parts and up towards the 
 dome, dwindling down to little images, he 
 begins by degrees to gain a conception of the 
 vastness and grandeur of the building. Its 
 proportions begin to steal upon him and the 
 longer he stays the greater and the grander the 
 immense proportions seem to him. The first 
 feeling of most persons at Niagara is that of 
 disappointment. We must stay with it and 
 cultivate its acquaintance if we would go away 
 with any suitable and true impression of its 
 greatness and power. This quality marks the 
 difference between real greatness and preten- 
 sion; between surface beauty and deep gen- 
 uine merit. It marks the difference between 
 natural scenery and imitation, between the 
 artist and the dauber, between the genuine 
 musician and the jingler of rhymes.
 
 52 SERMONS 
 
 We have but little recorded of the life of 
 Christ. But few events are recorded and those 
 only briefly and very simply. We know but 
 few things that he did. We know but few 
 things that he said. Those few things are 
 stated with great brevity and simplicity. We 
 have learned very little about Christ if we 
 have only learned the things he said and did. 
 It is only a short series of scattered events giv- 
 ing no connected history of his life, but only 
 letting us have a glimpse here and there. But 
 these glimpses show Christ himself, just as a 
 painter, by a few touches of his brush, will 
 enable you to gain a conception of the ideal 
 that lies in his own mind and to which he is 
 working. The more we read these scattered 
 records, the more we dwell on his wonderful 
 words, the more we come to see him who was 
 the subject of those records and the author of 
 those words. And the character grows fuller 
 and richer and more marvelous every time we 
 study it, until we come almost to hush our 
 breath as we appear before it. Then when we 
 know that this growing, glowing character is 
 not a picture, but only a faint shadowing forth 
 of him who was touched with the feeling of 
 our infirmity, and who ever liveth to make 
 intercession for us, our reverent admiration 
 changes into a loving faith. To those who
 
 SERMONS 53 
 
 have seen only the incidents and words of the 
 record, and who have never seen Christ him- 
 self through them, he is as the prophet said 
 he would be, "A root out of dry ground, with- 
 out form or comeliness, with no beauty that 
 they should desire him," The richest music, 
 the finest works of art, the grandest buildings 
 are not appreciated by those who do not bring 
 their spirit into sympathy with them. The 
 symphonies of Beethoven are meaningless to 
 one who only catches the succession of sounds 
 and movements, and fails to see through these 
 the underlying idea that inspired them. So 
 one who only sees the facts of Christ's life and 
 has never seen him through those facts, can- 
 not understand the loving reverence of those 
 who have seen Jesus himself as he shone through 
 the deeds and words recorded of him. We 
 seem like one who is telling a dream when we 
 speak of the wonders we see in the gem of gems. 
 They read his life only as so many pages of 
 print, then pass over what is said of him as so 
 many incidents and miracles and so many 
 parables and discourses. A man might as well 
 count the faces and figures in a painting and 
 think by this he could understand it. The 
 faces and figures mean nothing by themselves. 
 The meaning lurks in their grouping and shad- 
 ing and in a certain undefinable quality which
 
 54 SERMONS 
 
 guides and characterizes the touch of genius. 
 We read of Christ that we may know him, and 
 the image that rises before us is vastly larger 
 and deeper and more significant than all the 
 separate parts of which it is composed. So we 
 come to know him, and knowing him we come 
 to love him, and loving him we come to long 
 to be like him. But we only "know in part," 
 we only "see through a glass darkly"; and we 
 wait for the day when we shall see face to 
 face and for the hour when we shall know as we 
 are known. 
 
 Though we cannot know what we shall be, 
 we are satisfied to know we shall be like Christ. 
 We do not yet fully comprehend what that 
 means, but we are learning day by day and the 
 meaning enlarges as our knowledge expands. 
 What perfects the likeness in Heaven may 
 increase it here on earth. When we see him 
 as he is, we shall be like him. As here we see 
 him more and more, more and more shall we 
 resemble him. The more we know of him, 
 the more shall we grow like him. And the 
 more we become like him, the more shall the 
 joy and blessedness of the everlasting life 
 dwell with us here on earth. As we rise in 
 knowledge and faith and love, shall we ap- 
 proach the likeness of the Sons of God. But 
 approach as we will, it will still remain true
 
 SERMONS 55 
 
 that we know not what we shall be. For how- 
 ever much we receive, still there is more to 
 come. 
 
 "Oh, the grace the Father shows; 
 
 Still there's more to follow. 
 Freely he his grace bestows; 
 
 Still there's more to follow. 
 More and more, more and more, 
 
 Still there's more to follow. 
 Oh, his matchless, boundless love; 
 
 Still there's more to follow."
 
 V 
 
 "the mutual faith of you and me" 
 
 Rom. i: 12 
 
 PAUL wished to go to Rome to preach 
 Jesus Christ. He wished to do some- 
 thing to estabHsh the church in that great 
 capital of the world. But he was not the first 
 to carry the Glad Tidings to Rome. Some one 
 had been there before him, and there was al- 
 ready a beginning. He would recognize what 
 had been done, and he would use it as the 
 basis for further success. He would have them 
 understand that he was not coming to start 
 a new movement, but to strengthen and enlarge 
 what was already there. He wished to concil- 
 iate them in advance that he might have their 
 cooperation when he came. This is what I 
 think he means by "the mutual faith of you 
 and me." He was not coming as a lone man 
 to proclaim a new religion in the streets of 
 Rome, where they were accustomed to receive 
 a new religion about twice a month; but he 
 was coming to cooperate with them in what 
 they had already undertaken. "You know 
 Rome, and I do not. You are known there, 
 and I am not. You know the people, and 
 
 56
 
 SERMONS 57 
 
 you know how to approach them. I shall 
 depend on your acquaintance, your influence, 
 and your judgment, in laying my plans and 
 doing my work. We have the same Master, 
 the same faith, the same aims and the same 
 purposes. I wish to honor Christ and so do 
 you. I wish to win men to the truth and so 
 do you. I shall depend on your sympathy, 
 your knowledge of the people, to gain access 
 and to win a hearing. It shall be by the mutual 
 faith of you and me that Rome shall be won 
 to Christ." The members of the church at 
 Rome were to open the way for the Great 
 Apostle and multiply his effectiveness by their 
 own cooperation. 
 
 This was Paul's policy everywhere, as far as 
 it could be applied. He everywhere sought 
 for some local way of access. If he did not 
 find it at once he waited till he did find it. 
 He entered Philippi a stranger, knowing no 
 one, and known of none. He did not go into 
 the market place, and ring a bell and swing 
 his arms and shout and tell the people who he 
 was and what he had come for. He came to 
 the town as any other stranger might have 
 come, and quietly waited his opportunity. 
 On Sabbath morning a company of Jewish 
 women were accustomed to meet by the river- 
 side to worship God after their own fashion.
 
 58 SERMONS 
 
 Paul was a Jew and had a right to join with 
 them in their service. He told them of Jesus as 
 the natural expectation of the Jewish people 
 and as the natural outcome of the Jewish faith. 
 Lyddia, the leading character in the company, 
 accepted his teaching, and offered her services 
 to the new faith. Thus in a perfectly natural 
 way Paul found a local opening in this strange 
 city. Through this little group of converts 
 by the riverside Paul gained access to Philippi 
 and all that followed was in natural consequence 
 of the simple method he adopted. He first 
 found a few sympathetic souls, and through 
 them found his way to the ear of the com- 
 munity. He might have said to that river- 
 side group of disciples, as he said to the church 
 at Rome: " By the mutual faith of you and me 
 we will win our way to the heart of this great 
 city." And the Church that was at Philippi, 
 the most faithful of all the churches Paul 
 gathered about the Aegean Sea, stood for ages 
 as the fruit of his wise method of approach. 
 The company at the riverside were not of 
 his faith, but they were the nearest akin to 
 him in their spirit of anything he would find 
 in the city. There was a common ground of 
 sympathy and cooperation, and Paul was wise 
 enough to take advantage of it. We see from 
 the epistle to the Romans that the church at
 
 SERMONS 59 
 
 Rome was not just such as he would like to 
 have it. But it afforded a common ground of 
 approach and influence, and he was wise enough 
 to use what he could find. By the mutual 
 faith of them both they could join hands in 
 the work they wished to see done. 
 
 Paul's method of leadership is the most 
 effective of any in the world. He who can 
 find the elements of strength is stronger than 
 he who possesses strength himself. He who 
 can win the assent of men is stronger than he 
 who can compel that assent. The merging 
 of men by a common thought makes a vastly 
 stronger combination than the merging of 
 them by authority and force. It is said that 
 Xerxes had five millions of men when he under- 
 took the conquest of Greece. His authority 
 over them was absolute. His power was so 
 absolute that his conceit knew no bounds. 
 He went so far, they say, as to order the Hel- 
 lespont flogged because it tore up his pontoons. 
 But when he came to Greece he met a small 
 army of freemen. There was not one Greek 
 to ten Persians. They were indifferently led, 
 and were not agreed in their own counsels. 
 But every man was a Greek, and all had one 
 thought, that the Persians must not desecrate 
 the sacred soil of their country. When the 
 great hosts of the East came sweeping on,
 
 6o SERMONS 
 
 the little band met them with an onset so 
 furious, that they were thrown into confusion 
 and became an unwieldy and helpless mass. 
 The Persians obeyed orders; the Greeks obeyed 
 their impulse. Sometime in the fifties, dur- 
 ing the discussion which followed the passage 
 of the fugitive slave law, Jefferson Davis in 
 the United States Senate, I think it was, 
 urged the necessity of a larger regular army 
 to enforce the laws. The fugitive slave law 
 was everywhere resisted and the local author- 
 ities and the local military could not be relied 
 upon to enforce it. They fell in with the local 
 anti-slavery sentiment, and refused to obey 
 their superiors against their convictions. To 
 meet this emergency Davis urged the need of 
 a larger regular army, which would not be 
 influenced by local sentiment. They would 
 obey orders without regard to opinion. To 
 enforce the law he insisted we need "These 
 unimpassioned instruments of war." He 
 would have an army which would move as it 
 was ordered, and do as it was bid, asking no 
 questions and making no reply. 
 
 "Theirs not to make reply; 
 Their's not to reason why; 
 Their's but to do, and die." 
 
 There Is power in an army like that. It is 
 the common European idea of an army. They
 
 SERMONS 6i 
 
 would not tolerate any other. They have al- 
 ways made sport of our volunteer service, where 
 private soldiers have opinions and sympathies. 
 They have insisted that such troops as ours 
 could never stand before their "unimpassioned 
 instruments of war," but of late the opinion 
 has changed in this matter. In the Spanish 
 war our soldiers showed a quality which their 
 soldiers lack. Our soldiers may not obey so 
 promptly and they may not move so steadily 
 but they display what the correspondents call, 
 "the initiative," which stolid veterans lack. 
 Every man has a part in the contest and 
 watches his opportunity to strike most effec- 
 tively. The man without convictions may 
 make the best machine, but the man with con- 
 victions will make the best soldier. At the 
 battle of Trafalgar Lord Nelson displayed at 
 the masthead of his flagship an ensign with the 
 inscription, "England expects every man to do 
 his duty." Every man in the fleet, as he saw 
 that motto, was inspired to do his utmost to 
 meet the expectation of his country. Some 
 author has said that "Instantly every man in 
 that fleet became as four men, every gun be- 
 came as four guns, and every ship became as 
 four ships." At Santiago, Roosevelt led his 
 rough riders in the face of a galling fire. But 
 he did not lead one whit more eagerly than
 
 62 SERMONS 
 
 they all followed. Roosevelt led and inspired, 
 but every man in the command was as good as 
 himself. He commanded only because he 
 spoke the thought that was in every one of 
 their hearts, and he led them because they all 
 wished to go the way he was going. Crom- 
 well's army was invincible because every man 
 in it was inspired with a common purpose. 
 The men of the revolution could never be con- 
 quered because every man in the colonies had 
 sworn that the country should be free. The 
 army was almost annihilated several times, 
 but new armies came up as from the ground. 
 The soldiers received pay as long as money 
 could be obtained, and then they fought with- 
 out pay. They were fed from the public 
 store as long as the stores lasted, and then they 
 provided for themselves, but no one thought 
 of submission. A British officer went with a 
 message to a small American camp in South 
 Carolina. He was cordially received, and was 
 asked to dine with the officers. As dinner time 
 drew near he saw no sign of dinner. But at 
 the proper time a negro servant came in and 
 laid the cloth, and then drew out a lot of sweet 
 potatoes from ashes on the hearth, and these 
 constituted their dinner. When he returned 
 to his own company he said, "A people who 
 will fight and live on roots can never be con-
 
 SERMONS 63 
 
 quered." Defeat might crush the armies, but 
 could not crush the people. 
 
 I have wondered why some of our economic 
 leaders do not apply this method to the labor 
 situation. The interests of master and men 
 are identical. They are mutually dependent 
 the one on the other. Is there not some one 
 of our great leaders wise enough to make this 
 appear and apply it? They can manage steel 
 and mold it to their will. By long study and 
 long patience they have overcome every dif- 
 ficulty, and produced the product they desired. 
 Would not the same skill and patience be 
 equally successful if applied to men? The 
 man who can manage a railroad and keep a 
 hundred trains from colliding, ought to be 
 able to manage the men who move these 
 trains, and keep them harmonious and con- 
 tented. They work steel according to the laws 
 of steel; they work wool according to the laws 
 of wool; they apply steam according to the 
 laws of steam. They must learn to manage 
 men according to the laws of human nature. 
 This is the next great problem. A man is not 
 competent to manage a railroad unless he can 
 comprehend track and train, switch and engine. 
 The time is coming when he must add to this 
 the power to manage the men who turn the 
 switch and move the engine, who load the cars
 
 64 SERMONS 
 
 and care for the road. He will not manage 
 them by compulsion as once was possible, 
 but he must manage them by securing their 
 own free assent. They must be made to see 
 that they have an interest in the road, in the 
 mill, in the foundry, in the mine with which 
 they work. Somehow they must be made to 
 share the profits in a way that shall show that 
 master and men are one in the great establish- 
 ment they jointly carry on. The great anth- 
 racite strike was an unspeakable calamity to 
 both parties. The miners lost millions in 
 wages, while the mine-owners lost millions in 
 profits. Is there not somebody great enough 
 to put his hand on both parties and show them 
 that their interests are one, and that any 
 settlement is better than controversy? The 
 operators and the men are alike interested in 
 those great coal measures. The miners have 
 their living there, and the operators have 
 their fortune there. And they are dependent 
 on each other. They can neither of them move 
 without the other. The operators cannot 
 move a pound of coal without the workmen, 
 and the workmen cannot open a mine without 
 the money. They can either of them balk 
 the other, and either of them can make their 
 common property of no value to either of 
 them. It is to the interest of both that they
 
 SERMONS 65 
 
 work in harmony. If the mine-owners should 
 find some physical obstruction they would soon 
 overcome it. If it were water, they would 
 pump it out; if it were gas, they would drive 
 it away; if the rock were obstinate, they would 
 find a way to reduce it. But the men are more 
 important than physical conditions. All con- 
 ditions are without avail if the men will not 
 work. Cannot some one make them all see that 
 they have common interests at stake? Men 
 are more reasonable than rocks and waters 
 and noxious gases. They could be made to 
 share the prosperity of the mines in such a 
 way that they would feel that they were work- 
 ing for their own when they were working for 
 the common good. It will require some skill; 
 it will require some patience; it will cost some 
 money, perhaps. But improved machinery 
 costs money; improved methods cost money; 
 better means of transportation cost money. 
 But in the end they more than pay it back. 
 The men are more than all these. A little 
 kindness, a little thoughtfulness, a little justice, 
 would make all run smoothly and keep the 
 mines open and keep the trains running, and 
 keep the furnaces burning. And this is what 
 they must come to. The old conditions are 
 not coming back. The day was when the 
 employer would sneer at the idea of his men 
 5
 
 66 SERMONS 
 
 making terms. The master was everything 
 and the men were nothing. He must order, 
 and they must mind. But that day has gone. 
 The men have rights and know them, and the 
 master must respect them and he knows that. 
 They have rights as well as duties, and he has 
 duties as well as rights. He must consult 
 his men, and conciliate them, and consider 
 them in all his operations. What a power a 
 great industrial plant would be if all connected 
 with it were interested in it, from the girl 
 who tied the threads for a few shillings a week, 
 to the designer who drew the patterns for many 
 thousands a year! The men who manage 
 these great plants ought to be great enough to 
 compass a result like this. And the time is 
 coming when nothing less than this will answer. 
 The man who would manage a railroad must 
 not only be able to run its hundreds of trains 
 smoothly, but he must be able to get along 
 smoothly with its thousands of men. And 
 this is not an unreasonable demand. Men are 
 less hard to manage than steel rails and steam 
 engines and electric batteries. You would 
 never put a man in charge of a telegraph office 
 who could not manage a battery. This con- 
 dition must come. Self-interest demands it 
 as well as philanthropy. In fact it is coming to 
 be realized that self-interest and philanthropy
 
 SERMONS 67 
 
 run on the same track. When the mutual 
 interests of men come to be understood, the 
 mutual faith of men will be manifest. Men 
 will see eye to eye when the mists have blown 
 away. Men are mutually dependent on each 
 other, and interest and philanthropy walk 
 hand in hand. In business and social life we 
 come to see this very plainly. The business 
 man and his customer; the professional man 
 and his client; the master and his men, are 
 mutually dependent on each other. A busi- 
 ness man's customers can clog his business; 
 a professional man's clients can destroy his 
 practise; the manufacturer's workmen can stop 
 his mills. In social life he who would be a 
 friend must find a friend, and he who would 
 have a friend must be a friend. It is mutual 
 interest and mutual faith which bind the world 
 together in all its manifold and complicated 
 relationships. The mutual faith of you and 
 me makes us friends and makes us associates, 
 and enables us to cooperate in our plans of 
 service for men. 
 
 I did not intend to let this thought run away 
 with me to this extent when I took it up. I 
 have spent so much time in developing my prin- 
 ciple I fear I shall not have time to apply it. 
 May I not hope that the principle is clear 
 enough to apply itself? I want to come back
 
 68 SERMONS 
 
 to the thought of the beginning, to Paul's 
 dehcate suggestion to his Roman brethren, "I 
 am coming to Rome to preach Christ. I am 
 a stranger, but you are not strangers. I come 
 to join hands with you in the work we both 
 wish to see done. By the mutual faith of you 
 and me we shall gain the end we seek." We 
 are a band of Christian people. We have 
 each our own life to live, and our own work to 
 do, our own living to earn, and our own inter- 
 ests to look after. But we all call ourselves 
 Christians. We all have something in com- 
 mon. This common thought is our bond of 
 union, and in this union we call ourselves 
 Plymouth Church. We have promised each 
 other certain things we desire each should do 
 for the other. We have promised each other 
 some mutual care and mutual sympathy. We 
 owe to each other what we have promised 
 each other to do. We are not to wait for one 
 another, but each to do his part. It is not a 
 matter of barter and exchange. You are not 
 to do your part because your brother does his 
 part. You are to do your part whether he 
 does his or not. You are to do your part be- 
 cause you promised God you would do it. 
 The primal Christian idea is duty. Not what 
 will I get, but what can I do? Not what good 
 will come to me, but of what use can I be to
 
 SERMONS 69 
 
 my friends? Not, what will he do for me, but 
 what can I do for him? 
 
 The members of Plymouth Church owe 
 something to each other. And we owe some- 
 thing to the community we Hve in, the people 
 we live among, the people we deal with, and 
 the people we mingle with. We represent 
 Christ among them, and we must hold up 
 Christ before them. The pastor is not the 
 church; the officers are not the church; the 
 social and missionary societies are not the 
 church. These are parts of the church. But 
 the church is the whole membership. They all 
 share its benefits, and they all share its respon- 
 sibilities. You are, each of you, a part of the 
 life of the church ; a part of its possible force. 
 
 There was a time when the master com- 
 manded and the men obeyed. He spake and 
 it was done. But now one man leads others 
 only as he can speak the word which is common 
 to them all. There was a time when the min- 
 ister stood for the church. He conducted 
 the worship and did most of the Christian 
 work. His opinion settled controversies, and 
 his word was a law of the church. Now the 
 minister's opinions are worth just what the 
 reasons for them are worth, and he leads his 
 church only as he can speak the word which 
 is common to them all. He leads the church
 
 70 SERMONS 
 
 because they wish to go the way he is going. 
 But this is the best leading in the world — not 
 for honor, but for efficiency. There is nothing 
 so resistless as a company of men moving with 
 a common impulse. And there is no impulse 
 so strong as a Christian impulse. The accumu- 
 lated Christian force of five hundred people is 
 something to thank God for. I am not much. 
 I am but one. But if I can speak the word 
 which finds an echo in all your hearts, there is 
 a power which no man can measure. Every 
 member adds to the moral momentum. Every 
 member touches somebody he might influence 
 and help. Altogether you touch a large circle. 
 It is not me, but the mutual faith of you and 
 me. Let every one take his share, and we may 
 see wonders wrought in the name of the Lord. 
 The pastor is not much if he stand alone, but 
 a whole church thus minded is a blessed fel- 
 lowship. The promise of the year is with you. 
 It is the mutual faith of you and me which 
 is to bring what we all seek.
 
 VI 
 
 "he steadfastly set his face to go to 
 jerusalem" 
 
 Luke 9: 51 
 
 T^HE equivalent of this expression appears 
 •*• several times in various connections. 
 This was several months before his final ascent. 
 It was an earlier journey, to make some private 
 arrangements for that more important and 
 more public visit. It says that as the time 
 drew near when he was to be taken up, he set 
 his face as if he would go to Jerusalem. Yet 
 this was soon after the transfiguration, and 
 several months before the "time when he was 
 to be taken up." But already his face was 
 steadfastly set as if he would go up to Jerusa- 
 lem. From this on, that was his prominent 
 thought and steadfast purpose. The people 
 about him did not take to his going. Hereto- 
 fore Galilee had been the scene of his ministry. 
 The people of Capernaum had come to think 
 that their city w^ould become the center of the 
 new faith. They did not like the idea of his 
 work and influence being transferred to Judea 
 and Jerusalem. And the people of Samaria 
 did not take kindly to the idea of his going to 
 
 71
 
 72 SERMONS 
 
 Jerusalem. Since his interview with the woman 
 at Jacob's Well, they had felt that he was as 
 much for them as for the Jews, and that they 
 would have equal part at least, in the adminis- 
 tration of his Kingdom. As he seemed to want 
 to go south therefore they would not assist him, 
 nor aid his journey. But with his disciples 
 indifferent, the people of Galilee disapproving, 
 and the people of Samaria opposing, he still 
 set his face as if he would go to Jerusalem. 
 From this thought he could not be diverted nor 
 restrained. He was mingling with the people, 
 he was healing the sick, he was teaching all who 
 came to him. He was not at all indifferent to 
 the calls on all sides of him, but all the while 
 "his face was set" towards Jerusalem. What- 
 ever he was doing, this was his ultimate 
 thought. At another time from this, he had 
 been talking of what was to come to him, and 
 he walked before the disciples with a bearing 
 so majestic that they followed him with awe. 
 As he carried out his purpose he was often 
 delayed and hindered. But he went right on 
 when the delay was over. He sent a few of 
 his disciples first to prepare for him, and then 
 he sent the seventy on something of the same 
 errand. "His face was set as if he would go up 
 to Jerusalem." 
 
 By this time I think you have a shadow
 
 SERMONS 73 
 
 of my thought. In all these months Jesus is 
 very busy. Crowds follow him, and crowds 
 throng him everywhere. He neglects nothing 
 as he moves along. He listens to every call, 
 he responds to every need. He is keenly sen- 
 sitive to every condition. His instincts seem 
 to lead him where sorrow is, and he never 
 avoids or evades a claim. He is never in a 
 hurry, and never seems anxious to get away. 
 But all this while there is another call and 
 another claim. His mind is on another thought. 
 He hears every call of the hour, and meets 
 every claim of the place, but all the while a 
 supreme claim overshadows all these local and 
 passing calls. His face is set towards Jerusa- 
 lem. He is looking towards the final consum- 
 mation. The purpose for which he came is the 
 end to which he continually moves. Over the 
 diversions of his daily life there hangs the 
 shadow of his great sacrifice. To look at him 
 you would think he lived for those he lived 
 with. But listen to his silent thought and 
 you find he is looking to the far-off shadow 
 of destiny and service. Without seeming in 
 haste, or passing any claim or call, he all the 
 while has this high call and higher claim in his 
 ear and on his heart. Without neglecting the 
 one, he does not lose sight of the other. He is 
 in no haste to leave the widow of Nain until
 
 74 SERMONS 
 
 her son is restored, and her sorrow completely 
 assuaged. But next day we find him farther 
 on. The disputes of the disciples are as care- 
 fully adjusted as if he and they were to con- 
 tinue in the relation they now find them- 
 selves. But he immediately passes on from 
 them to new scenes which require new adjust- 
 ments. He does thoroughly the work of 
 today, but ever has in mind the larger work 
 of tomorrow. As he comes again among his 
 old friends in Judea, social attentions are 
 pressed upon him. He accepts them cheer- 
 fully and heartily, but after dinner goes the 
 way he was facing. He entered the house of 
 Zacchaeus on the special mission he had in 
 mind. He accomplished his mission, and left 
 Zacchaeus a happy man in a happy home. He 
 does not wait to find others who might profit 
 by similar attentions, but rejoins the crowds 
 of pilgrims and continues on towards Jerusa- 
 lem and destiny. As they go out of Jericho 
 he hears the cry of two blind men, "Jesus, 
 thou Son of David, have mercy on us, that we 
 may receive our sight." They are near Jeru- 
 salem now, and the crowds are eager to press 
 on. The disciples are impatient, and try to 
 suppress these disturbers of their journey. But 
 Jesus is in no hurry. No time to loiter, but 
 always time to help the needy. But when he
 
 SERMONS 75 
 
 has healed them and sent them away, then he 
 and the multitude move on again. 
 
 Soon after he came to Bethany, the home of 
 Mary and Martha. Here was Lazarus whom 
 he had raised from the dead. Here was Mary 
 who listened, and Martha who served. Here 
 he might remain and rest as one would at home. 
 Here a reception was arranged for him and a 
 supper. Here was an anointing with costly 
 oil, as if he had been a prince. Here were all 
 the love, and honor and attention he could 
 ask for. He might have stayed here for weeks, 
 and postponed the day of darkness and sacri- 
 fice. Here he might steady his nerves and 
 recruit his strength. 
 
 He accepted their attentions thankfully; he 
 enjoyed their supper and social converse; he 
 told them this would be remembered to their 
 honor as long as his gospel should be pro- 
 claimed on the earth. He was not indifferent, 
 he was not in haste. Plenty of time for hos- 
 pitality. But the old thought was not sup- 
 pressed. His face was still set as if he would 
 go up to Jerusalem. The next morning he 
 moved with the moving crowds, as they has- 
 tened along the sides of the Mount of Olives, 
 towards the Holy City. Now there appeared 
 a new diversion, and a new temptation. His 
 company got the idea somehow that he was
 
 76 SERMONS 
 
 going to the temple to be crowned King of the 
 Jews. The children were especially eager in 
 their loyalty and demonstration. He might 
 have joined the demonstration and intensified 
 enthusiasm. He might have made a marked 
 occasion and a serious crisis. But he treated 
 it discreetly. He neither rejected it nor joined 
 it. He received it as an expression of genuine 
 friendship and loyal enthusiasm. He did not 
 make the mistake of accepting popular excite- 
 ment for popular support, nor treating the 
 love of his friends as a trifling matter. In a 
 higher sense than Caesar, he was already a 
 King, and yet he did not come in competition 
 with Caesar or Pilate. In an hour the incident 
 had passed and Jesus was where his thought 
 had been all these months while his face had 
 been set towards Jerusalem. Steadily as the 
 months had passed he had pressed on to his 
 purpose. 
 
 He is like a great river which rolls on to the 
 great sea. It does not stay in its course, and 
 yet its banks are not neglected. There is 
 not a garden left unwatered; there is not a 
 tree left unfed. Every field is filtered; every 
 flowery nook is found. Everything doth live 
 wheresoever the river cometh. It never loi- 
 ters beyond its time. It stays not for head- 
 land or rock, for sand-bar or dyke. Having
 
 SERMONS 77 
 
 enriched the whole country from the fountain 
 to the mouth, it comes at last to the sea, bearing 
 the wealth it has carried on its bosom. So 
 Jesus never failed to bless the life he touched 
 today, and never failed to reach the point he 
 set for tomorrow. And here he is now wind- 
 ing his way around Olivet, and coming to 
 his destination amid palm branches and the 
 songs of children. 
 
 He never forgot the thing he was aiming at. 
 The need he was interested in did not detain 
 him; the cry to which he listened did not divert 
 him. He had that remarkable poise which could 
 enjoy the journey and yet keep the destination 
 continually in mind. He never neglected the 
 present nor forgot the future. The duties of 
 today never obscured the destiny of tomorrow. 
 
 Now he is among the shouts and palms of 
 Olivet. We call it Palm Sunday and think of 
 it as something final. But it is only one of the 
 way-marks, like the dinner with Zacchaeus, — 
 the shoutings at Jericho — the supper at Beth- 
 any. He enjoyed them as he passed them, 
 but he came on to what he had planned. He 
 verified the words of the poet: 
 
 "Not enjoyment, and not sorrow 
 
 Is our destined end and way, 
 
 But to live that each tomorrow 
 
 Find us farther than today."
 
 78 SERMONS 
 
 He was not as the ambitious youth who 
 pressed on to the highest point and achieved 
 an empty triumph; who, bearing his flag with 
 its strange device, "Excelsior," stopped not 
 for home nor friendship, and Hstened not to 
 the cry of child, or call of service; who turned 
 away from the comforts of home and friend 
 till he planted his banner on the cheerless sum- 
 mit. Jesus took in the life as he came along, 
 and came to the end on which his face was set 
 when he had reached his destination. 
 
 A great deal is said in the Bible about fixed 
 epochs. God has his set times. Providence 
 moves forward to the beat of the centuries. 
 There is a sort of schedule for the progress of 
 history, and the orderly movements of the 
 Kingdom. Parallel lines of history are timed 
 to each other. The poets have a fancy that the 
 Star of Bethlehem was a regular conjunction 
 of planets, and that the history of Jesus was 
 timed to that of the stars. Thus the three 
 Wise-men met as by appointment and came 
 together to Bethlehem. This is a poetic fancy, 
 but back of it there is historic reality as sur- 
 prising as this. When Jesus came there was 
 apparently a feeling of expectancy, as if some 
 new order was about to be introduced. The 
 Magi were watching for it; Simeon and Anna 
 were waiting their time in the temple; Herod
 
 SERMONS 79 
 
 even was disturbed by a rumor. In line with 
 all this, we read of the fullness of time. The 
 material kingdom, the order of history, the 
 expectations of men, were all set to the same 
 hour. Jesus came as the stars come, as the 
 sunrise returns at its appointed time, as history 
 moves to its proper pulsation. It was the 
 time of which the morning sang at creation's 
 dawn; of which the holy prophets spake; of 
 which the providence of God made note. 
 Of the chosen saints the poet sings: 
 
 "At the time appointed, 
 He sends his angel down, 
 To bear his own anointed 
 
 Up to their throne and crown." 
 
 Into this order Jesus came and lived his won- 
 derful life. He touched every living interest; 
 he heard every cry of need; he gave time to 
 every sorrow on his way. Yet when the full- 
 ness of time was come he was at his place. 
 During all this gentle and timely service, his 
 face was set to the final consummation. 
 
 And now he has come to the Mount of 
 Olives. He is passing up its sides. They 
 think the day of coronation has come, and they 
 cut down palm branches, and spread garments 
 in the way as they would for the crown prince; 
 they shout "Hosanna! Hosanna!" To him 
 it was a passing incident. He was on his way
 
 8o SERMONS 
 
 to where his face had been set. He appeared 
 in the temple and began his work. It did not 
 take long to develop the enemy. As he met 
 the questions, and solved their plots, the con- 
 spiracy grew stronger, and the garden and the 
 Judgment Hall and the cross followed close. 
 Towards this consummation of sacrifice and 
 sorrow his face had been set these many 
 months, and to it he had steadily moved 
 from Galilee to the Jordan, from the Jordan 
 to Jerusalem, from Jerusalem to Calvary. 
 Through all the gentle scenes, through all 
 the timely teaching, through the kindly deeds 
 he has come without divergence, he has come 
 to this final scene, and can now say, "I have 
 finished the work thou gavest me to do. And 
 now I come to thee." 
 
 "From Heaven he came; of Heaven he 
 spake, to Heaven he led his followers!" He 
 taught in Capernaum and they listened; he 
 called the fishers of Galilee and they followed ; 
 he rested in Bethany, and his friends gathered 
 about him; he hastened up Olivet and they 
 followed him with palms and songs. The 
 strong thought that was on his heart all these 
 months made him a leader of men wherever 
 he went. Whatever at the moment he was 
 doing, his eye was on the distant goal that all 
 the while he had respect to. He was going
 
 SERMONS 8i 
 
 to the cross and the cross was the way to the 
 crown. He was on his way to death but death 
 was the gateway of Hfe. He each day did the 
 work he came to and each day's work led to 
 the next. And this brought him at last to 
 the consummation on which he had all the 
 while set his face. Every day's service was 
 like a day's march. Day after day brought him 
 along to Jordan and Jericho, to Bethany and 
 Olivet. All the way along he had taught 
 the people; all the way along he had healed 
 the sick ; all the way along he had proclaimed the 
 Kingdom of God. And now he was amid the 
 palms and Hosannas. The priests and elders 
 frowned; the disciples murmured; but the 
 children shouted. And he rode on in calm 
 consciousness and said to those who protested, 
 "If these should hold their peace, the very 
 rocks would cry out." A worthy occasion 
 which demands expression will always find 
 a tongue. 
 
 Jesus never lost sight of the end, and never 
 failed in the duty of the hour. He never 
 neglected a crying child because he was think- 
 ing of how the children would shout at Olivet. 
 He never left a sick man by the wayside 
 because the feast at Bethany was to be tomor- 
 row night. He met the need of today and
 
 82 SERMONS 
 
 thereby reached the appointed place for tomor- 
 row's service. So it may be to us. 
 
 We may "Each day pitch our moving tent, 
 A day's march nearer home." You will all 
 come to the end you keep in view. You will 
 come to that towards which your face is set. 
 You may not come rapidly, but you will come 
 surely. Each day will bring you nearer. It 
 is the steady race which wins the crown. It 
 is the one who endures to the end. It is he 
 who runs so as to obtain. It is to him that 
 overcomes to whom God giveth a crown.
 
 VII 
 "hold fast the profession of your faith" 
 
 Hebrews lo: 23 
 
 T T would make this passage clearer to render 
 "*■ it, "Hold fast the faith you have pro- 
 fessed." The author is writing to the Chris- 
 tian disciples who are scattered abroad. They 
 have suffered persecutions and losses on account 
 of their faith. They were often well-nigh dis- 
 couraged, and almost ready to abandon their 
 faith. It cost something to be a Christian in 
 that age. It cut a man off from worldly ad- 
 vantages and exposed him to great annoyances. 
 It shut him out from all his old associations; 
 it excluded him from all profitable employ- 
 ments, and it cut him off from all social recog- 
 nition and political preferment. If he had 
 property, it would be injured and perhaps 
 broken up. At this particular time the Chris- 
 tians were suffering even severer trials, for they 
 were being driven from their houses, perse- 
 cuted and tortured, and some of them had 
 suffered death. 
 
 This epistle was written to keep these perse- 
 cuted disciples in heart, and to encourage 
 them to fidelity and perseverance. "Hold 
 
 83
 
 84 SERMONS 
 
 fast the profession of your faith." Hold fast 
 the faith you have professed. They had pro- 
 fessed Jesus and had taken him as their por- 
 tion. The epistle opens by showing whom it 
 was they had believed. It was Jesus, the 
 express image of God, the maker of the world. 
 He was above the angels, for the angels must 
 worship him. He was before Moses, for Moses 
 was a servant, while he was a Son. He was 
 before Aaron, for Aaron's priesthood was tem- 
 porary while His priesthood was perpetual. 
 
 Then the writer goes on to give examples of 
 enduring faith from among the Jewish people, 
 and he gives us that wonderful eleventh chap- 
 ter which has been denominated the roll-call 
 of the Bible saints. It is a rapid survey of the 
 men and women in Jewish history who had 
 stood in their places moving the world and ad- 
 vancing the Kingdom. These all suffered 
 losses and met disappointments, encount- 
 ered obstacles, and carried burdens. They all 
 worked for that they did not see, and strove 
 for that they did not attain. But though they 
 did not attain, they hastened the time when it 
 should be attained. The good time coming 
 never came to them, but it came nearer and 
 it came sooner than it could have come with- 
 out them. They helped to bring it on. 
 
 Now the writer applies this thought to their
 
 SERMONS 85 
 
 condition. Looking at these principles of 
 truth, looking at these examples of fidelity — 
 this cloud of witnesses — keep right on in your 
 course, and run with patience the race set 
 before you, looking unto Jesus, the Author and 
 Finisher of your faith. Hold fast the faith 
 you have professed. If you must give up 
 everything for your faith, see to it that you do 
 not let your faith slip too. Cling to that, for 
 it is worth all the rest. Think of all there is 
 in it of promise and inspiration and hope, and 
 take the full comfort of it. Trust in it, for 
 it is sure. Rejoice in it, for it is full of promise. 
 Be satisfied with it, for it is sufficient. 
 
 We have professed our faith in God as re- 
 vealed in Jesus Christ. God is the foundation 
 of all. Real faith in God supersedes every- 
 thing else. If we trust really in God, our trust 
 will never waver because our surroundings 
 waver, any more than the house on the rock 
 will shake when the floods dash about it. It 
 rests on a deeper foundation than the circum- 
 stances of our life. It keeps us steady when 
 circumstances change. Its value is greater 
 when other things give way. It would not be 
 worth much if it failed us when other things 
 fail. We do not doubt the sun when it goes 
 behind a cloud, or sinks beneath the horizon 
 at night. It would be a dreadful world to live
 
 86 SERMONS 
 
 in if we did. We rest quietly at night because 
 we know the sun is coming back in the morn- 
 ing. Friendship was made for the dark day, 
 and you would not value a friend who failed 
 you when trouble came. Faith is of special 
 worth when we cannot see, and when we can- 
 not see is the time of all others that we should 
 cling to our faith. You would not count him 
 a very wise man who should abandon his spar 
 because the waves were so high and land so 
 far. That is the very time he needs his spar. 
 You would not count him wise who should wear 
 his life-preserver on deck on a sunny after- 
 noon, and then leave it below when the storm 
 came and he must take to the deep sea. Yet 
 that is just the way many Christians regard 
 their faith. They make much of it when all 
 is prosperous, and let go their hold when adver- 
 sity comes. If you trust God only while He 
 is prospering you, your faith does not mean 
 much and it is not worth much. An anchor 
 is not worth much to a ship if the cable breaks 
 when the strain comes. An anchor is not in- 
 tended to prevent a storm or calm the waves, 
 but it is intended to hold the ship. It is not 
 a charm to still the seas, but a cable to hold the 
 ship when a storm is on the sea. A life-pre- 
 server is not intended to keep a man out of 
 the water, but to keep him afloat when he is
 
 SERMONS 87 
 
 in the water. The purpose of faith is not to 
 prevent trials, but to enable a man to bear 
 them, A great many people assume that the 
 object of religion is to give a man an easy time — 
 to prosper him in his affairs — to resolve his 
 perplexities — and ward off his trials. We hear 
 the remark often that a certain man's religion 
 does not do him much good. He does not pros- 
 per any better than his godless neighbors, and he 
 has as many losses and disappointments and 
 sorrows as his unbelieving friends. Sometimes 
 it even seems as if a good man is singled out 
 for tribulation and disaster. David himself 
 once felt this way. "These are the ungodly 
 who prosper in the land. They increase in 
 riches." Did you ever hear a remark like 
 that in this late day? 
 
 But mistakes show the real significance of 
 faith. The primal object of faith is to make 
 a man strong. It is not to give a man an easy 
 time, but to enable him to bear a rough time. 
 It is not primarily to give a man prosperity, 
 but to enable him to bear any fortune and profit 
 by it. It is not to keep a man out of the con- 
 flict, but to enable him to "bear hardness as 
 a good soldier." The question is not as to 
 a man's trials, but as to the result of them. 
 The vital question is, how does he come out of 
 them? It is not a point with the gold ore how
 
 SERMONS 
 
 hot the furnace may be, but how does it come 
 out of the furnace? Does it come out purified 
 or blackened? Has it been enriched or has it 
 been ruined? 
 
 When we recount a man's experiences, the 
 vital question is, how did he bear them? How 
 did they affect him? How does he come out 
 of them? What sort of man did they leave 
 him? 
 
 We cannot interpret our lives any more than 
 we can forecast them. If we could always 
 know what they mean, and where they are 
 coming to, there would not be so great a call 
 for faith. But the larger portion of our life 
 we must receive on trust. We can see goodness 
 in it only as we know God is good. We pass 
 under clouds through which no light shines, 
 except there be light from above. The glory 
 of our faith is that it can trust where it cannot 
 see. It is not art to trust when we can see, 
 and of no great benefit, either. Ingersoll says 
 it is a strange thing that Jesus would cry out 
 when on the Cross: "My God, My God, why 
 hast thou forsaken me?" But I have often 
 blessed God that he has left that word on record. 
 It shows that Jesus our Saviour went down to 
 the depths of human experience, as we must 
 go. For every man has known something of 
 what these words express. Have you not
 
 SERMONS 89 
 
 yourselves been where that thought was in 
 your heart, even if those words did not come 
 to your Hps? Has there not been a time when 
 it seemed as if your last desire had been 
 denied — your last request refused? The cup 
 you prayed might pass has been forced to your 
 lips; the heavens have seemed brass above you, 
 and the earth has seemed a desert beneath you. 
 You have gone out into a night that had no 
 stars, and you waited for a morning that 
 brought no sun. In such an hour, the heart 
 cried out, "though the lips moved not:" "My 
 God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?" 
 At such a time it has been an unspeakable 
 relief to remember that he whom God surely 
 loved went down into the same depths and 
 uttered the same cry. It is not a sign that 
 God has forsaken us because the last extremity 
 is permitted to come. What seems the extrem- 
 ity to us is not so to God. 
 
 Many years ago we were reading out of the 
 Gospels in the course of our morning worship. 
 We had come to the account of the Cruci- 
 fixion. As we read, the story seemed unsually 
 vivid. We read how Jesus went in silence 
 from Pilate's judgment hall to Calvary, bear- 
 ing his cross till he could bear it no longer and 
 then another must bear it for him. We read 
 how the soldiers took him and nailed him to
 
 90 SERMONS 
 
 the cruel cross, casting lots for his clothes; how 
 the multitude gathered about him as he hung 
 on the cross, and mocked him. One said: 
 "Let the King of Israel come down from the 
 cross, and we will believe him. Thou that de- 
 stroyest the temple and in three days buildest 
 it again, save thyself." Another replied: "He 
 saved others, himself he cannot save." And 
 another said: "He trusted in God, let God 
 deliver him now, if he wants him." Another, 
 more bold still, shouted to the sufferer: "If 
 thou be the Son of God, come down from the 
 cross." Just before me sat our daughter, then 
 a child, following the story with intense inter- 
 est and growing indignation. I could see she 
 was mightily moved. As I came to these 
 words, "If thou be the Son of God, come down 
 from the cross," she could contain herself no 
 longer, and spoke out in her impulsive way, 
 "Why didn't he come down?" Yes, why didn't 
 he come down? I presume we have all asked 
 that question many and many a time. Why 
 didn't he come down and confront His foes 
 then and there? Why didn't he come down 
 and end all controversy as to his divine au- 
 thority and power? Why didn't he come down? 
 No answer. Christ never comes down from 
 the cross, either in his own person or in the 
 person of his disciples. They are all made to
 
 SERMONS 91 
 
 bear until "It is finished." They see not the 
 promise though they witness a good report. 
 "Not accepting deliverance" is the testimony 
 of them all, and it is the testimony of common 
 life as well. Again and again there is no light- 
 ening of the lot, no lifting of the load, no turn- 
 ing away of the blow. The blow comes — 
 and comes hard, too. "Made perfect through 
 suffering" was not the truth alone of the Cap- 
 tain of our Salvation. It is true of his followers 
 as well. His people bear about in their own 
 bodies the dying of the Lord. How the noblest 
 men have suffered the tide, and been submerged 
 at the last! How the gentlest spirits have 
 felt the grinding of a hard life and never known 
 a respite! How the most beautiful characters 
 have shown out of the darkest experience! 
 How the loveliest have borne the longest, and 
 not at eventide could there be said, "There 
 was light." 
 
 Some years ago I ran across a verse which 
 very vividly expresses this idea. It was 
 credited to some unknown English poet. I 
 used the verse in an article which was quite 
 extensively copied. Shortly after, I received 
 a letter from Samuel Hoyt, of Amesbury, 
 Massachusetts, a life-long friend of Whittier, 
 Parton, and other well known poets. He said 
 the verse was by Helen Hunt Jackson. He
 
 92 SERMONS 
 
 had it in his scrap-book and would send me a 
 copy of the entire poem, which I have never 
 seen anywhere else. Only that one verse, 
 however, illustrates my thought. 
 
 "Is it true, O Christ in Heaven, 
 
 That the purest suffer most? 
 And the strongest wander farthest 
 
 And most helplessly are lost? 
 Is the mark of rank in nature 
 
 But capacity for pain? 
 Does the anguish of the singer 
 
 Make the sweetness of the strain?" 
 
 When a good man is in trouble, we often 
 turn upon him and ask, "What good does his 
 faith do him now^? " The foes of David caught 
 this thought and taunted him with it. "As 
 with a sword in my bones mine enemies re- 
 proach me while they say daily unto me, 
 'Where is now thy God?'" It was easy to 
 talk of God in prosperous times — where is he 
 now you are in trouble? It was well enough to 
 boast of God when everything went right. 
 But where is he now everything is in confusion, 
 and all things seem to turn against you? It 
 was easy enough to meditate upon his watch- 
 fulness and care when your flocks were safely 
 feeding in the green pastures of Judea, or ly- 
 ing down by the still waters of Bethlehem. 
 But where was he when the lion and the bear 
 came down upon the sheep? It was all very
 
 SERMONS 93 
 
 well to talk of God when you stood upon the 
 heights, safely viewing the movements of the 
 hostile armies as they met in battle. But 
 how was it when the giant came striding 
 towards you over the plains with his spear like 
 a weaver's beam? It was very sweet and 
 pretty to hear you talk of faith in God when 
 you came from the victory and the maidens 
 met you singing, "Saul has slain his thousands 
 and David his ten thousands." But how was 
 it when Saul's jealousy drove you from his 
 house? It was very beautiful to sing Jeho- 
 vah's praises when you were playing upon 
 your loved harp and charming your monarch 
 and his court in the palace of the king. But 
 how was it when the king's countenance was 
 changed towards you and you were driven to 
 the mountains to hide in caves and thickets, 
 when a price was set upon your head and you 
 were hunted like a wild beast in the woods? 
 Where now is thy God? What is he doing 
 for you now? David himself is almost puzzled 
 for an answer. "Like a sword in my bones 
 was their reproach." "My feet had well-nigh 
 slipped." Not till he came into the sanctuary 
 of God, into the Divine center of vision, did 
 he see how it was. Then it was all plain. The 
 Lord did not protect him from the inroad of 
 the lion and the bear, but he nerved his arm
 
 94 SERMONS 
 
 to beat them back. He did not shelter him 
 in some secluded valley where the giant could 
 not find him, but he steadied his hand as he 
 slung the stone and brought the giant down 
 and saved the armies of Israel and the land 
 of his fathers. He did not hide him in the cleft 
 of some rock and feed him till Saul had ceased 
 his persecution, but he led him through an 
 experience which quickened his perceptions 
 and developed his ingenuity, and so prepared 
 him for leadership in the after years. How 
 much of David's wonderful success in war, in 
 diplomacy and in statesmanship, was the result 
 of the wit quickened by the straits and emer- 
 gencies of his early life, we may never know. 
 But we may be sure of this much at least; 
 David would never have been the man he was 
 and never the king he was, had it not been 
 for the discipline of those early years, which 
 at the time so severely tried him. He after- 
 wards saw something of what God had done 
 for him. When again they asked him, "Where 
 is now thy God?" he could say: "Surely good- 
 ness and mercy have followed me all the days 
 of my life and I will dwell in the house of the 
 Lord (or, under the care of the Lord) forever." 
 The ship sails out proudly from port and 
 runs delightfully for many days. At last a 
 storm comes up and sun and stars are not seen.
 
 SERMONS 95 
 
 The sails are torn from the masts ; the bulwarks 
 are swept away; and the waves roll over the 
 deck. Everybody is drenched and dreary and 
 cold, and hope is almost gone. With all that 
 helm and sail can do the ship can only lie to 
 and drift like a water-soaked log. Now they 
 taunt the captain who has boasted so much 
 of his ship. They ask, in derision, "What do 
 you say for your ship now?" As confident as 
 ever, he replies, "She was built for a time like 
 this.^ Other ships may outdo her in the calm, 
 or outsail her before a fair breeze, but she was 
 built strong and wisely planned, so that when 
 all else fails and nothing more can be done, she 
 can lie to and drift and wait till the storm is 
 past. Then she can bring her crew and pas- 
 sengers home to their desired haven. She 
 was not made to escape the tempest, but to en- 
 dure it and live through it." 
 
 Our faith should be for the time that tests 
 it. However wild the storm, we trust the God 
 who rules the storm. No matter how dark 
 and long the night, we trust the God of the 
 morning. As we stand in the middle of the 
 night, it may not add a single star to the sky, 
 or throw a single ray of light on our path, but 
 we endure the darkness, and wait with vastly 
 greater patience and courage when we know 
 that the sun will rise again at six o'clock in the
 
 96 SERMONS 
 
 morning. As we stand in the middle of the 
 winter and the air is full of frost, and the ground 
 is buried in snow, and the waters of lake and 
 river are locked in ice, it may not put a single 
 leaf on the tree, or a single blade of grass on 
 the plain, or a single flower on the hillside but 
 it makes the winter vastly more endurable and 
 our lives vastly more cheerful to know that on 
 the 2 1 St of March the sun will return to this 
 northern hemisphere and begin to warm the 
 earth for another season. "Roses will -come 
 again," and "It will be summer by-and-by." 
 Faith may not banish our difficulties, but it 
 gives meaning to the conflict by which we over- 
 come them. It does not lift our loads for us, 
 but we are made strong to carry them. It 
 does not restore our losses, or fill our loneliness, 
 or dry our tears; but losses and loneliness and 
 tears become less desolate when we know that 
 "Though weeping may endure for a night, joy 
 cometh in the morning." And that "He that 
 goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, 
 shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bear- 
 ing his sheaves with him." It may not steady 
 the earth when it quakes, but it steadies our 
 souls amid the rocking when we know that 
 there are things which cannot be shaken, and 
 that we receive a kingdom which cannot be 
 moved.
 
 VIII 
 "the days of our years" 
 
 Psalm 90 : 10 
 
 rr^HE ending of the year is always an epoch 
 ^ in our lives. No matter how lightly 
 we regard it, we cannot pass it without some- 
 thing of a start. It is a milestone on the road 
 which we have never passed before and shall 
 never pass again. We carry with us what we 
 have gathered, and what we have left is beyond 
 our reach. The days of our years may be 
 ever so full and yet we may go on empty ; they 
 may be ever so rich, and yet we go from them 
 poor. But empty or poor though we may be, 
 we cannot go back to gather what we have 
 left behind. It was ours once but it is ours 
 no more. If we redeem the time it will enrich 
 us, if we neglect our opportunity we go on 
 with pauperized lives. When the door is 
 open, no man may shut it against us; when the 
 door is shut, no man may open it for us. 
 
 The "Days of Our Years" have passed very 
 gently. They made no sound as they went 
 by. But they changed the face of all the 
 things they touched. They fell like snow- 
 flakes, silent and soft, but like the snowflakes 
 7 97
 
 98 SERMONS 
 
 they change the face of all the earth. Every 
 year gives another touch, and before we note 
 what is going on, the whole scene is changed. 
 Time moves on without a sound, building up 
 the limbs of childhood, strengthening the 
 arms of manhood, and fulfilling the counsels 
 of manhood. So quietly have they borne us 
 along that we were hardly aware of the mov- 
 ing, yet here we are looking back over the long 
 line of our journey. As we note the shifting 
 scene it seems almost like a dream. Like 
 the woman in the nursery rhyme, we are 
 inclined to cry, "Surely it is not I." Others 
 may see no romance in our lives. But there 
 is no romance like that of a man's experience. 
 In fact there is no other romance. The heart 
 feels its own as none else can feel it. "The 
 heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a 
 stranger intermeddleth not with its joy." We 
 are amused at the glow with which men tell of 
 the commonplace incidents of their lives. But 
 we do not realize the personal touch which 
 makes commonplace things seem vital. The 
 average talker is dreary, because he does not 
 realize that what has stirred him may be a 
 matter of indifference to another. A mother 
 telling of the words and doings of her child, 
 seems dismal, if not amusing to us. But it 
 is all alive to her. There is nothing really
 
 SERMONS 99 
 
 commonplace to a man which touches his 
 own Hfe. 
 
 "A commonplace life, we say and we sigh, 
 
 But why do we sigh as we say? 
 A commonplace sun in a commonplace sky 
 
 Maketh the commonplace day; 
 The moon and the stars are commonplace things; 
 
 And the flowers that bloom, and the birds that sing; 
 But dark were the world, and sad our lot, 
 
 If the flowers failed, and the sun shone not. 
 But God who studies each separate soul. 
 
 Out of commonplace things makes the beautiful whole." 
 
 What seems commonplace to us may be 
 romance to those who are in it. We stand 
 mute sometimes beside an open grave. A 
 grief has touched another which we do not 
 feel. But when we stand there with a grief 
 of our own, we know what the romance of 
 human life can mean. The shadows refuse 
 to rise, and the wounds refuse to heal. One 
 of my earliest recollections is that of standing 
 by the grave of a little brother. I was too 
 young to realize the import of the scene, and 
 my most vivid remembrance is of wondering 
 why my mother wept and sobbed so. Thus 
 we often look on a sorrow whose point we do 
 not feel. We do not see what sharpens the 
 thorn for another's flesh. 
 
 It is the days of our years which slip away 
 from us so easily. W'e should be more choice
 
 100 SERMONS 
 
 of the years. But the days slip away unnoticed 
 and the days carry the years with them. A 
 lost day seems a trifle, but a few days lost, and 
 the year is gone. 
 
 "Why do we heap huge mounds of years 
 
 Before us and behind; 
 And scorn the little days that pass, 
 
 Like angels on the wind? 
 Each turning round a small, sweet face 
 
 As beautiful, as near; 
 Because it is so small a face 
 
 We do not see it clear. 
 And so it turns from us and goes 
 
 Away in sad disdain; 
 Though we would give our lives for it, 
 
 It never comes again." 
 
 So each day goes — used or unused — well 
 spent or ill spent — redeemed or wasted — but 
 however they are spent they go into the irrepar- 
 able past. 
 
 "The days of our years" have been busy 
 years. They have moved very quietly, but 
 they have wrought wonders in their noiseless 
 flight. As they passed we paid little heed, but 
 as we look back how changed the prospect 
 is. One character at a time passed off and one 
 character at a time came on. But how a few 
 years have changed the grouping around us. 
 Few as the days of our years have been, what 
 marvelous transformations they have wrought.
 
 SERMONS loi 
 
 They seemed trifles to those who looked on, 
 but they meant everything to those involved. 
 We have seen homes gathered and homes 
 broken; we have seen joyful hearts made sad 
 and sad hearts made joyful; we have seen the 
 solitary set in families, and happy homes made 
 desolate. We have seen fortunes made and 
 fortunes lost. The poor boy of our youth is 
 the millionaire of today, and the millionaire 
 of years ago is today wondering where his 
 dinner is to come from. We have seen the 
 lowly lifted and the mighty cast down; we 
 have seen the unknown come into prominence, 
 and the well-known pass from sight. We have 
 seen obscure names rise like a star in the heav- 
 ens, and we have seen bright names clouded 
 as in midnight gloom. Thus they have come 
 and thus they have gone, and thus they have 
 been coming and going since time began. 
 
 The year just passing has been like the rest. 
 With some it has left no special mark, with 
 others it has burned its story into their souls 
 as with letters of fire. With some it will be 
 distinguished for its brightness which will 
 gild all the years ahead; with others it will 
 carry gloom which will darken the days to 
 come. The voice they loved most to hear is 
 no longer heard, and the name which sounded 
 sweetest is now spoken but in whispers and
 
 102 SERMONS 
 
 in tears. But behind every cloud there is a 
 light, and none need sing the song of despair. 
 
 " My soul from out that shadow shall be lifted Nevermore." 
 " For taking the years together there is no more night than 
 day." 
 
 From every shadow the soul may be lifted 
 into the light, for a hope lost may be a new 
 hope born. 
 
 "And the glad life music, now heard no longer here, 
 Shall come again to greet us — as we are drawing near." 
 
 The days of our years have flitted by like 
 shadows on the hillside. Joy and sorrow, 
 light and darkness, have chased each other 
 across our sky. We have had reason "To 
 bless the favoring gale" when we have sailed 
 through unruffled seas; and we have waited 
 for light " In the midnight of the soul." 
 
 Yet the days of our years have left some- 
 thing with us as they flitted by. They passed 
 
 "Like snowflakes on the river, 
 A moment white, then gone forever." 
 
 But even the snowflakes increase the volume 
 of the stream. The days of our years are 
 gone before we realize they are here, but they 
 add to the volume of our life. They leave with 
 us what our souls absorb, and we shall be in 
 the coming days what our past has made us. 
 We may accumulate wisdom and knowledge
 
 SERMONS 103 
 
 and character, and be enriched in life or we may 
 let it all flow by us while we remain paupers in 
 our spirits. A light purse is as nothing com- 
 pared with an impoverished soul. For sunny 
 memories warm the life, as the noonday sun 
 warms the night, or the midsummer is remem- 
 bered by the storms of midwinter. 
 
 Everything is the richer for what it has 
 passed through. Even a song means more 
 every time it is sung. It brings to us memo- 
 ries as well as music, and it strikes other chords 
 besides those on the staff. Words grow rich 
 as they grow old, and they gather force as they 
 pass from lip to lip. They carry something 
 of the voice and tone and sentiment. 
 
 How the old haunts and the old paths keep 
 their tales for us. No panorama can compare 
 with the pictures which an old familiar path 
 can show us in a walk through a well remem- 
 bered wood. All along we see faces and scenes 
 and hear voices and songs which made the 
 years of long ago so full of fresh delight. A 
 company invisible to the rest passes before 
 our eyes, and voices none else can hear fill the 
 air for us. There is an old oak tree near my 
 father's house which is a well filled story-book 
 to me. There we boys used to sit and plan 
 for the future. When we were last together, 
 coming from all over the land we sat under that
 
 104 SERMONS 
 
 old tree all afternoon, and arranged for the old 
 homestead when we should be scattered again. 
 That tree seems to have kept a diary of all that 
 passed beneath its shade. No phonograph 
 could retain the faces and the stories and the 
 songs as the branches of that old oak retain 
 and repeat them to those who have the key. 
 
 "The meadow has a tale for us, the lane its storied hour, 
 
 Companions in each hedge we hail, a friend in every flower; 
 Thus half forgotten as we stand, amid the haunts of youth. 
 The golden past asserts for us, its strength of love and truth. '' 
 
 No one need be lonely whose past has en- 
 riched him. If companions are lacking, the 
 friends of other days will crowd about him, and 
 the memories of other days will flood his 
 thoughts and brighten the hours. 
 
 And gloom remains as well as brightness. 
 How a malicious man must dread to be alone. 
 How he must strive to shut out the dark and 
 dismal past. Under his present there ever 
 flows a dark tide, like a river under ground, — 
 never seen, but ever flowing, and ever heard. 
 
 "There is a river drear and lone, 
 That flows in noiseless undertone, 
 Through caverns dark and gulfs profound, 
 A silent river under ground. 
 
 "The ghostly boatmen on it glide. 
 The ripples lap against the side. 
 The oars dip in, but still no sound, 
 This silent river under ground."
 
 SERMONS 105 
 
 And results remain as well as memories. 
 "My days are like a weaver's shuttle," said 
 Job. Like a weaver's shuttle every day car- 
 ries a thread which becomes a part of the 
 fabric, and a part of the pattern. Once woven 
 no man may unravel the threads, or change 
 the pattern. But God puts our broken threads 
 together, and completes our unfinished web. 
 
 "Others shall sing the songs, 
 Others shall right the wrong, 
 Finish what we begin; 
 What matters, we or they; 
 Ours or another's day: 
 So the right word be said, 
 And life the sweeter made."
 
 IX 
 
 "l WILL REMEMBER ALL THE WAY" 
 Deut. 8:2 
 
 WE all carry a picture gallery in our hearts. 
 It is filled with pictures of the scenes 
 we have passed. Pleasant and painful, sunny 
 and shady, peaceful and wild, they alternate 
 all along the course of our lives. Again and 
 again, in a dreamy mood, we "remember all 
 the way." Often the earliest are the choicest, 
 as some old picture of centuries ago is often 
 the prized of all the treasures of art. 
 
 What I may call my first recollection is as 
 distinct as anything in my thought. After 
 months of travel out of the dim mysteries of 
 childhood, our people went into the Michigan 
 woods, and set themselves down on a beautiful 
 knoll overlooking lakes and meadows, woods 
 and plains, — a lovely spot, but with no neigh- 
 bors for miles. A shanty roofed with hay 
 served for shelter while the log-cabin was being 
 built, and we cooked our meals beside a great 
 white-oak log outside. It was autumn, and 
 father and the older boys worked every day 
 in the woods to get our cabin ready before 
 
 106
 
 SERMONS 107 
 
 winter set in. I was six, and I had a brother, 
 Willie, of four years. We were constant com- 
 panions. To the rest we might seem lonely, 
 but for Willie and me every bush had a tongue, 
 and the birds sang but for us all day long, 
 while the whippoorwill kept singing into the 
 night. As it was with Tom Hood, 
 
 "Morn never came a wink too soon, 
 Nor brought too long a day." 
 
 We were together, and everywhere together. 
 He was bright and full of life, chasing butter- 
 flies and hunting flowers all day. He was so 
 fond of flowers that he would bring his arms 
 full of goldenrod every night to mother. He 
 was quaint and witty and bright, and kept 
 us laughing all the time. The autumn sped 
 apace, and we were compelled to go into the 
 cabin before it was quite completed. It was 
 all the great fireplace could do to keep the air 
 warm which came in at the many openings. 
 Willie and I were now shut in by the winter 
 storms. He was the same as ever. However 
 dark the day, he was a bit of sunshine within. 
 The weeks went by slowly, and March came. 
 It had been a hard, long winter, and Willie 
 was growing less lively. One morning he did 
 not get up to breakfast. I could not under- 
 stand why he did not come, but Mother went
 
 io8 SERMONS 
 
 often to his bedside. When I went to him, he 
 did not know me, and when I touched him, 
 he only said, "You mustn't; hurts." About 
 the fourth day some neighbors came in, and 
 the minister, and they sang and prayed. Then 
 Mother took me by the hand, and we walked 
 over to a beautiful spot across the field and 
 put Willie in the grave. I looked up at Mother 
 and saw tears trickling down her cheeks. She 
 seldom cried, and I wondered what it all 
 meant. In all the years after, Mother had a 
 little flower garden where the mound had been, 
 and I often found her there on Sunday after- 
 noon, sitting and reading her Bible. 
 
 But Willie did not walk with me any more. 
 The other boys were older than I, and I was 
 left alone to people the woods with soldiers 
 and knights, with forts and castles, with moats 
 and drawbridges, and all the wondrous things 
 which filled a boy's imagination. I have 
 often wondered what I lost from my life by 
 Willie going from me so early. 
 
 This is one of the first pictures in my mem- 
 ory, and yet it is as vivid as if it were yester- 
 day, — that lovely autumn in the woods, that 
 dreary winter in the cabin, and that myste- 
 rious, wierd walk with Mother to that point by 
 the hillside. It was a shadow over my life, 
 "and my soul from out that shadow . . .
 
 SERMONS 109 
 
 shall be lifted nevermore." This is a personal 
 picture, but perhaps you have one near enough 
 like it to understand it. 
 
 A more public event gives a more public 
 recognition. The first great steamboat dis- 
 aster is as vividly in my mind as if it had been 
 a personal matter. I had never seen a steam- 
 boat, but heard one morning that the Buffalo 
 boat had been burned to the water's edge, and 
 most of the crew and passengers had perished 
 in the flames. Among the passengers were 
 many friends and neighbors from Ann Arbor, 
 and gloom spread over the whole community. 
 Long as it is ago, that hangs over that point 
 in my memory as the black smoke might hang 
 for hours over the spot where a burning steamer 
 went down. 
 
 A national picture will bring us more near 
 the occasion which brings us here this morning. 
 The annexation of Texas was one of the chief 
 issues in the campaigns of 1840 and 1844. 
 In 1844 Polk was elected as the friend of annex- 
 ation. General Taylor had been in Western 
 Texas with a small army of observation, as 
 they called it. As soon as it was decided to 
 hold the boundary of the Rio Grande, General 
 Taylor crossed the river into Mexico and won 
 victories at Matamoras and Monterey. Then, 
 instead of waiting for new volunteer troops,
 
 1 10 SERMONS 
 
 he pushed on into Mexico with his Httle army 
 of 5,000 men. We heard of him, but we all 
 felt anxious for his fate. Then came the ugly 
 rumors that Santa Anna, the Mexican presi- 
 dent and warrior, was coming upon him with 
 20,000 men. We were all in a ferment of fear 
 and indignation. We thought Taylor had been 
 betrayed by his political enemies, who were 
 jealous of the prestige he was gaining by his 
 victories. There was great difference of opin- 
 ion as to the wisdom of the war, but all parties 
 felt alike as to the duty of sustaining Taylor. 
 The heart of the whole country beat as the 
 heart of one man in patriotic sympathy with the 
 brave men who were imperilled among the 
 Mexican mountains. But in a few days the 
 news came that Taylor had engaged Santa 
 Anna and scattered his great army to the four 
 winds. Then was our fear turned into laugh- 
 ter, and we were "as they that dream." And 
 this picture has hung on the walls of our mem- 
 ory as clear and distinct as it was when it first 
 took its place. The heat of our great interest 
 fastened the colors as the heated oven fastens 
 the colors in the decorating of the choicest 
 china. 
 
 As we come down, our pictures will interest 
 a wider circle. In the spring of '6i, we came 
 from our home in Michigan to our home in
 
 SERMONS III 
 
 Kansas. We crossed Missouri by Hannibal 
 Railroad in April. The whole country was in 
 a fever of excitement and men's hearts were 
 failing them for fear of what was coming upon 
 the earth. The next morning the Confedera- 
 tion fired on Sumter, and what men feared 
 began to come. Missouri was in arms, her 
 river blockaded, her railroads torn up, and 
 travel impossible anywhere. The whole land 
 was instantly divided into two hostile camps, 
 and men flew at each other like the meeting 
 of opposing tides at sea. The farmer left his 
 plough; the herdsman left his flock; the lawyer 
 left his client; and the doctor left his patient; 
 and all rushed to save the country. A com- 
 pany gathered just back of our house. Many 
 of them were old friends, and they were as a 
 part of our household. They came in as they 
 would for change or rest, and some of them 
 often sat with us at our evening meal. One 
 morning our special friend came bounding in 
 and cried, "We are ordered off. Good-bye!" 
 And they went as happy as if to a feast. A 
 few days after was the deadly battle of Wil- 
 son's Creek, and some of the boys who went a 
 few days before never came again. You may 
 be sure that picture hangs in our memorial 
 gallery. 
 
 Two years later, the outlook seemed very
 
 112 . SERMONS 
 
 dark. The sides were nearly matched so that 
 the issue seemed very doubtful. But the 
 Fourth of July it lightened all around the sky, 
 and there were victories at Gettysburg, Vicks- 
 burg and Port Huron. They were so decisive 
 that Lincoln saw they foreshadowed the end. 
 He ordered that August 6th should be observed 
 as a day of thanksgiving. I was supplying 
 our new mission on Main Street for three weeks, 
 using the principal hall. The churches of 
 Kansas were indifferent to the President's 
 proclamation, or worse. They all ignored the 
 day. I determined there should be one loyal 
 service in Kansas City. It was a curious 
 conglomeration. There were our own people, 
 there were soldiers and officers from the camps, 
 and there were strangers who proved to be 
 members of Quantrill's guerilla band. The 
 service seemed the proper thing for the occa- 
 sion, and all went away glad that day had not 
 been passed over in Kansas City. 
 
 After my time expired, we returned to our 
 home in Lawrence. We enjoyed it just one 
 day. At daybreak, August 21st, Quantrill's 
 band pounced upon us, destroyed the town, 
 murdered one hundred and fifty of our citi- 
 zens, and left all without homes, with the task 
 of burying the dead. The funeral season was
 
 SERMONS 113 
 
 protracted and various, but the services were 
 many and brief. 
 
 "Few and short were the prayers we said, 
 And we spake not a word of sorrow, 
 But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, 
 And bitterly thought of the morrow." 
 
 You may be sure we also hung this picture in 
 its order in our collection, and it has lost noth- 
 ing of its colors or its distinctness in the pass- 
 ing years. 
 
 There are many other pictures just as dis- 
 tinct as these, but to note them all would be to 
 obscure them all. One more only of this 
 series can be pointed out. 
 
 After two years more of strenuous struggle 
 came Lee's surrender and the return of peace. 
 All were rejoiced. The Union had been pre- 
 served, the national authority had been main- 
 tained; slavery had been destroyed, and all 
 that we fought for had been secured. Even 
 the South was satisfied that she could go home 
 and rest. But right in the midst of our re- 
 joicing came the darkest day of all, the "winter 
 of our discontent." 
 
 Lee had surrendered; Lincoln had been to 
 Richmond, and the terms of peace had been 
 agreed upon; the armies were going, and the 
 country was rejoicing. Then five days after 
 Lee's surrender, April 14th, our beloved Presi-
 
 114 SERMONS 
 
 dent Lincoln, who had led us through the War 
 and met all the tremendous issues as they arose 
 in such a wonderful manner, was foully mur- 
 dered. No one knew whence it came, or what 
 it meant. It occurred Friday evening, and 
 we heard of it Saturday morning. Arrange- 
 ments were made at once for memorial services 
 the next day in the old stone church. Skilful 
 hands draped the church in graceful folds of 
 black; while folded flags still more expressed 
 the common thought. The choir prepared 
 appropriate music, and I prepared a sermon in 
 line with the occasion. The fears of what might 
 come soon subsided, but the sorrow for what 
 had come hung like a dark cloud for many 
 days. The sentiment of that memorial serv- 
 ice was fresh in our minds long after the scenes 
 had passed by. We did not forget to hang 
 this picture in our memorial hall, and we just 
 touch upon it today as we "remember all the 
 way." Peace remained and prosperity came 
 apace, but we did not forget the days of sorrow 
 and of gloom. They hung over us still, just 
 as the clouds do after the storm has passed on. 
 May I draw the slide once more, and show 
 a scene far down the line, as I "remember all 
 the way?" There have been great changes, 
 great prosperity and great expansion. The 
 world does not recognize the change, and we
 
 SERMONS 115 
 
 do not realize our strength. Somehow we 
 have drifted into a war for the deliverance of 
 Cuba. Again there is an eager rush to the 
 country's defense. 
 
 We draw the slide again right here in Ply- 
 mouth. It is early morning and the church 
 is crowded with an eager throng. It is all 
 flags and flowers, and music and shouts. A 
 company of our own boys came in, just as the 
 boys came in forty years ago. They were 
 right from our homes, our church, and our 
 boys' brigade. The officers of the boys' bri- 
 gade are the officers. They are from our homes, 
 and Sunday school, and friends. As they go 
 away the multitude shouts, and the boys 
 bravely respond. And we sing as they go, 
 
 " Brave boys are they, 
 Gone at their country's call; 
 
 And yet, and yet, we cannot forget 
 How many brave boys must fall." 
 
 We soon began to hear of their soldierly quali- 
 ties and soldierly conduct in far Manila Bay. 
 Their bravery and bearing won for them a 
 high place among their new comrades, and the 
 Twentieth Kansas became the pride of our 
 state, and Company "H" became the pride of 
 Lawrence. 
 
 In February the Philippinos made a vicious 
 attack on our lines at night. Our boys were
 
 ii6 SERMONS 
 
 ordered out to the firing-line. They had never 
 been under fire before, but they stood their 
 ground Hke veterans. But as they were push- 
 ing the enemy steadily back, a bullet struck 
 our own Fred, and he was the first of our Kan- 
 sas boys to fall. A few months later we had 
 another scene in Plymouth Church. Again it 
 was adorned with flags, and again the crowd 
 packed the house. But this time it was the 
 emblems of mourning, and the service of sorrow 
 and consolation. We sang as they went away, 
 
 " Brave boys are they, 
 Gone at their country's call; 
 
 And yet, and yet, we cannot forget 
 How many brave boys must fall." 
 
 Then we rejoiced as they went to their duty; 
 now we sorrowed over those who had fallen 
 in doing their country the service they owed 
 and pledged her. 
 
 These are but a few of many which I might 
 show as I "remember all the way." You 
 can bring out many scenes which will be more 
 distinct then I can make these. They will be 
 personal, domestic and public. The loved 
 who blessed your home, the companion that 
 cheered your life, the hero that stirred your 
 blood. Out of the past you will bring them 
 today, as you "remember all the way." As 
 you recall them, you will crown them. This
 
 SERMONS 117 
 
 day is the crowning for the friends who have 
 passed on. 
 
 As you recall the old friends, put the chaplet 
 on. Bring flowers as fresh as the love they 
 bespeak. It may be the simplest, and be all 
 it need be. A violet laid upon its mother's 
 grave by a loving child means more than a 
 bunch of costly roses sent by the hand of a 
 servant. Send the flowers you love, and the 
 flowers they love. They shall stand for the 
 love that still is fresh, and they shall stand for 
 the faith that never fails. 
 
 This is Memorial Day. There has been 
 enough in any of our lives to show the signifi- 
 cance of such a day. All that has impressed 
 us as we came along has left its impress here. 
 As we "remember all the way," they will pass 
 before us. The old scenes and the old faces 
 will come to us once more. What impressed 
 you as you passed it will come distinctly before 
 you as you review it. The vivid scenes of your 
 life will be the vivid pictures of your Memo- 
 rial Gallery. You will not forget what so 
 distinctly left its mark. The old soldier will 
 not forget the war of the Rebellion. He 
 will not forget the day of his enlistment, and 
 he will not forget the first smoke of battle. He 
 will not forget the night march in the storm, 
 nor the camp in the snow. He will not forget
 
 Ii8 SERMONS 
 
 his mess-mates, nor the men who marched with 
 him, nor the comrade who fell by his side in the 
 fight. If he should live a thousand years, the 
 four in the army would furnish more material 
 for thought than all the rest. 
 
 Bring flowers and crown the heroes you have 
 left behind. Let it be flowers and flags — 
 flags to mark the spot, and flowers to crown 
 the heroes. Bring the flowers you love, and 
 the flowers they loved. Bring roses with their 
 affection. Bring the carnation with its blush. 
 Bring the simplest as well as the rare. 
 
 Bring your flowers and crown the friends 
 whose faces come. Live over again the scenes 
 which once stirred you. Revive the old friend- 
 ships as you "remember all the way."
 
 NUGGETS 
 
 It is not how far we have walked but which way we are 
 walking. 
 
 God measures not by the size of the gift but by the strength 
 of the giver; not by what the gift is worth, but by what it 
 costs him that brings it; not by the weight of the load, but by 
 the strength of him who carries it. 
 
 A man will do according to what he is. 
 
 A man may fail of fortune but need not fail himself. 
 
 A man is a fool not to be what he can be because he can't 
 be what he would be. 
 
 A man grows towards what he thinks upon and loves. He 
 that looks up has begun to rise. He that looks to God has 
 begun the journey toward God. 
 
 Every advance opens the way for advance; if a man be satis- 
 fied with the past he will have no future. 
 
 The true disciple never feels that he has attained. The 
 points gained are but steps towards the point sought. The 
 road traveled is only on the way to the destination. 
 
 The needs of today are not satisfied with the supplies of 
 yesterday, and the duties of today are not done by the fidelity 
 of yesterday. 
 
 The Kingdom of God is the reign of God in the hearts of 
 men. It is Christ formed within, molding the spirit and the 
 conduct to himself. It is a living thing in a living heart 
 repeating itself in other hearts. It is life touching life. It 
 is life transforming life. Thus the Kingdom grows and thus 
 the truth extends. 
 
 Men influence each other according to what they are, and 
 not according to what they seem to be, or say they are. It is 
 the Christ in men's lives which wins men to Christ. 
 
 You need all the sails you have, and you may fling them all 
 to the breeze. But unless you have a rudder, the more sails, 
 
 119
 
 120 NUGGETS 
 
 the more peril. Fill your life as full of joy as you can, but 
 bring it all under the pressure of divine obligation. 
 
 The teacher may excuse from the lesson, but that is a dif- 
 ferent thing from learning the lesson. God may spare you 
 the cross but that will not win you the crown. You may 
 keep the metal from the fire, but that will not refine it. 
 
 The men who have given the world its best things have never 
 stopped to ask what the price might be. 
 
 Responsibility is not a burden but a privilege. A grand 
 service is not a hardship but a favor. 
 
 Faith in Christ is self-convincing. It is its own best proof. 
 
 Some travellers were encamped on the shore of a beautiful 
 lake whose waters at times were disturbed as if moved by 
 an unseen force. Exploration revealed the fact that the lake 
 was connected with the great ocean and so felt the heave and 
 swell of its mighty bosom. Even so it is our privilege to be 
 in touch with the great heart of God and respond in some 
 measure to impulses which have their source in him. 
 
 A wasted summer is a pauper's winter, a neglected school is 
 a dunce's life. An unimproved life opens to an empty 
 eternity. 
 
 A man's wants are within him. They are not in the things 
 that satisfy him. A man's wants are the measure of himself. 
 The more he wants the more there is of him. A new want 
 means a new capacity. He grows larger as his wants increase. 
 
 Cultivate the field you are in, and you will find enough to 
 do. You need not go to the slums to found a social settle- 
 ment. Make a social settlement of the community in which 
 you live. If you would serve the Master, get near to some- 
 body. Go near enough to the life to know what is needed 
 and how you can be of the most service. 
 
 The best part of many things is the desire for them. That a 
 man should desire them is an enrichment. You can have all 
 the best things. The wish for them opens the door for them. 
 If you hunger and thirst after righteousness you will be 
 filled. 
 
 To them who hunger for righteousness it comes as the air 
 comes in the evening, as the waters find their way to the sea.
 
 NUGGETS 121 
 
 The breath of God is Hke the breath of life. We need but 
 breathe to be filled. 
 
 God never treats a prayer with indifference. 
 
 That is always most manly which is most natural: that is 
 always most brave which is most true. It is not manly to be 
 insensible, it is not manly to be indifferent. 
 
 Knowledge is a measure of being. A man grows as he learns 
 and learns as he grows. 
 
 Any man's service will be acceptable who stays where Christ 
 found him and does what Christ bids him. So long as he is 
 doing what Christ left for him to do, he need not sigh for higher 
 work nor for a better place. The work at hand is always the 
 work to be done and the work to be done will always be recog- 
 nized and rewarded. 
 
 You can judge a man by what he likes best. His taste will 
 define him. If his tastes are low, he will easily drop to their 
 level. 
 
 When a man takes religion into his home, it is not something 
 he can put away on the shelf, like a new piece of statuary, 
 or in the front parlor, like a new piano. But it is like letting 
 light into his home or fresh air into his room. 
 
 God may give a man the opportunity of great things, but 
 only that is his which he takes into his own life. God may 
 give a man the means of Grace, but only those graces ornament 
 his spirit which are taken into the fiber of his soul. 
 
 It is not what a man has but what he will do with it, which 
 determines his value as a member of society. 
 
 Persons on opposite sides of the street may walk as they 
 please, but it is always wise to keep step with the companion 
 at your elbow. A close touch demands the unselfish spirit 
 which religion implants. 
 
 The hero who meets his Gethsemane before the conflict 
 never faints when the conflict is on. 
 
 The primary purpose of prayer is to mold events. The 
 secondary purpose is to mold us. If events cannot be recon- 
 ciled to our plans, the same result may be attained if our plans 
 can be reconciled to events. 
 
 There are two ways to lighten a burden, one is to take it
 
 122 NUGGETS 
 
 from our shoulders, the other is to strengthen our shoulders 
 to bear It. 
 
 A life that can bear its burden is richer than a life which 
 has no burden. 
 
 Strength to do is better than release from service. Courage 
 to dare is better than to escape the conflict. 
 
 There are Gethsemanes in all our lives. We all pass through 
 the garden in the midst of the night. In most lives the Geth- 
 semane is harder than the cross. The mental anguish exceeds 
 the physical pain. 
 
 Because the thing we ask for is not given is no sign that our 
 prayer is not heard. God has some better thing for us.
 
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