CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
arV15446 
 Eternal atonement. 
 
 Cornell University Library 
 
 3 1924 031 232 998 
 olin,anx 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
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 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924031232998 
 
ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 

ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 BY 
 
 ROSWELL DWIGHT ^ITCHCOCK, D.D., LL.D. 
 
 LaU Pruident and Washburn Professor of Church History in 
 the Union Theological Seminary 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 1888 
 
/"■■ 
 
 /« 
 
 ^^^«ELL'^> 
 
 i.^' W ; 3, j 1 i; 
 
 
 COPYRIGHT, l888, BY 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS. 
 
 PRESS Of 
 
 fOWARD O. JENKINS' SONS 
 
 NEW YORK. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 A FEW years since, Dr. Hitchcock destroyed the 
 greater portion of his manuscripts. Of his sermons he 
 preserved only about thirty, from which the following 
 are selected as showing the truths on which he loTcd to 
 dwell, and which were the foundation of his own re- 
 ligious life. He was not bound by any rigid sys- 
 tem which cramped and fettered his mind. His intel- 
 lect was so original and powerful that it could not be 
 confined; and the store of knowledge which it ab- 
 sorbed, instead of being so much dead learning, only 
 fed and stimulated its activity. He was always making 
 new acquisitions. But the effect was not to weaken 
 his faith. On the contrary, as his mental horizon en- 
 larged, and he could see farther, his convictions grew 
 stronger. Especially was this the result of his studies 
 in Church history. In his philosophy Christ was the 
 Centre round which all history revolved, from which 
 he took the bearing of every point in the mighty orbit 
 of religious truth. With a mind like his, knowledge 
 was the parent of wisdom and of strength. Amid the 
 
 (V) 
 
vi PBEFACE 
 
 fluctuations of modern opinion he was tranquil and 
 composed, because he had found one Divine Life run- 
 ning through the ages, and knew that He who had al- 
 ways been with His Church, would abide with it unto 
 the end of the world. This faith so serene, resting on a 
 conviction so profound, may be traced distinctly through 
 these sermons, which thus arrange themselves in a nat- 
 ural order, that it did not seem wise to disturb by the 
 insertion of others equally strong, but not so directly in 
 this line of thought. 
 
 Dr. Hitchcock published little in his life-time. His 
 mind was so active, and he was so constantly giving out 
 fresh thoughts to stimulate others, that he left himself 
 little space to revise and elaborate for the press. Be- 
 sides, his power was in himself quite as much as in 
 his words. His own personality was so marked, that 
 his presence in the pulpit or the lecture-room, at once 
 commanded attention, and gave emphasis to what he 
 uttered. That personal magnetism cannot be recalled : 
 though it remains to all who knew him a most vivid 
 and precious memory. But now that he is gone, we 
 can only read these silent pages, supplying, as best we 
 may, the flashing eye and the thrilling voice. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGS 
 
 I. — ^Etbkkai. Atoswiest, 8 
 
 n. — Who can fobgivb Sins? 17 
 
 in. — ^Religion, the doing of God's Will, . . 81 
 
 IV.— The Beobbt Thinos of God, .... 65 
 
 v.— Fbom Blindness to Vision, .... 77' 
 
 VI. — The DiSTiNcroiSHiNG Peatubbs of Chbistianitt, 91 
 
 VII.— The Law of Seeticb, 103 
 
 Vm. — Life theough Death, 121 
 
 IX.— The Law of Use, 189 
 
 X.— The Cost of Sebtice, 163 
 
 XI.— The Staff of Life, 169 
 
 Xn.— The Witness of Histoet to Chbistianitt, . 193 
 
 Xin. — The Rock in the Desbbt, 209 
 
 XIV.— Keoeivino and Giving, 225 
 
 XV.— Peteb, . . . .... 239 
 
 XVI.— Chaegb to ak Btangelist, . . .261 
 
 XVII.— Chaegb to a Pastob, 971 
 
 XVIII.— Saltation Peeached 279 
 
 XIX.— Untboublbd Faith, 295 
 
 (vii) 
 
I 
 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 •"And all that d/mU upon the earth shall worship Him, whose names 
 are not written in the book of life of the Lomh slain from the founda- 
 tion of the world." — Revelation xiii. 8 ; Psalm Ixxii. 
 
 Mt subject is the Lamb slain from the foundation of 
 the world. My text is Rev. xiii. 8, the precise import 
 of which is disputed ; and I will therefore give you the 
 rival renderings. As we have been used to it in the 
 Authorized Version, it reads: "Written in the book 
 of life of the Lamb slain from the foundation of the 
 world." The Anglican Kevisers, following the lead of 
 Alford, make no essential change: "Written in the 
 book of life of the Lamb that hath been slain from the 
 foundation of the world." The American Eevisers, 
 following the lead of Bengel, De Wette, and many 
 others, would have it : " Written from the foundation 
 of the world in the book of life of the Lamb that hath 
 been slain." The American rendering makes the elec- 
 tion eternal. The Anglican rendering makes the atone- 
 ment eternal. 
 
 The prevalent opinion no doubt has been that the 
 atonement is simply an historic fact, dating back now 
 some nineteen hundred years ; and that only the pur- 
 pose of it is eternal. But Johann Wessel, the great 
 German theologian, who died only six years after Mar- 
 
 (3) 
 
4 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 tin Luther was born, got hold of the idea that not elec- 
 tion only, but atonement also, is an eternal act. And 
 this, it seems to me, is both rational and scriptural. 
 Eternal election, profoundly considered, requires eter- 
 nal atonement for its support. Both are eternal, as all 
 Divine realities are eternal. If the passage in Revela- 
 tion were given up, we should still have to deal with 
 1 Peter i. 19, 20, where the Lamb is spoken of as fore- 
 known before the foundation of the world, but man- 
 ifested at the end of the times ; eternal reality becom- 
 ing temporal fact. We should still have to deal with 
 John xvii. 24, which also carries back into eternity the 
 redeeming relationship between the Father and the 
 Son. Even on Calvary, as temporal actuality, the 
 Lamb slain is only a figure of speech, and, of course, it 
 can be no more than a figure of speech as eternal real- 
 ity in the bosom of God. But whether in time, or in 
 eternity — whether on Calvary or in the bosom of God, 
 the figure must stand for something. For us the meaning 
 is, and must be, that not election only, but atonement 
 also, is eternal. And so the relationship of God to moral 
 evil stands forth as an eternal relationship. Not that 
 evil is itself eternal ; but God always knew it and al- 
 ways felt it. It may help our thinking in this direc- 
 tion to remember that there is a sense in which creation 
 itself is eternal; not independently eternal, but, of 
 God's will, dependently eternal. 
 
 There must nothing be said, or thought, in mitiga- 
 tion of the ethical verdict against moral evil. The 
 hatefulness of it, no matter what its chronology may 
 be, is simply unspeakable. Violated law is monstrous. 
 Unmindfulness of God, who has always been so mind- 
 
BTBUNAL ATONEMMNT 5 
 
 f ul of us, is mean. Ifever to pray, either in one's closet 
 or in one's family, is against all the proprieties. Idol- 
 atry is childish and contemptible. Profaneness of 
 speech is scandalous. Neglect of holy time is robbery. 
 Disobedience to parents is shameful. Murder is hideous. 
 Unchastity murders the soul, is indeed both murder and 
 suicide. And so of all the rest. Theft, falsehood, and 
 even inordinate desire are abominable. Imagine a com- 
 munity, larger or smaller — a family, a township, a state, 
 or a nation, where the Ten Commandments are per- 
 sistently trampled under foot, and you will have im- 
 agined a community intolerable even to itself. And 
 if this be our human Judgment, what must the Divine 
 judgment be ? The more pure and righteous a moral 
 being is, the more squarely he must antagonize, the 
 more intensely he must hate, the more surely he must 
 punish impurity and unrighteousness. Volcanic fire 
 inside the globe, forked lightning outside of it, are faint 
 emblems of holy wrath. Wrong doing is the one thing 
 nowhere, and never, to be either condoned or endured. 
 Physical accident, bodily sickness, financial disaster, 
 social bereavement, may all be pitied. But when a 
 thoroughly bad man stands revealed, only lightning is 
 logical. He that sows the wind ought to reap the 
 whirlwind. It was a great philosopher who stood 
 amazed at the starry sky, and at the moral sense in 
 man. Well he might. There is no softness in the 
 midnight sky ; only cold blue marble, and a steady 
 Maze that never relents, and is never tired. Tou can- 
 not endure that blaze, you dare not risk yourself out 
 alone among those gleaming orbs with a guilty secret 
 in your bosom. The universe is instinct with law that 
 
6 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 never abdicates. Kemorse is not repentance; and 
 even repentance washes out no stain; Self-forgive- 
 ness is impossible. The trumpet is always sounding ; 
 every day is a judgment-day; and everyone ofxus 
 goes to the left. Gehenna is only the logical goal of 
 sin. 
 
 I^or should any attempt be made to get at the gen- 
 esis of moral evil. The beginning of it is simply in- 
 conceivable. The whole thing is a mystery, and must 
 be let alone. Moral evil is not eternal ; or there would 
 be two infinities. Nor is it a creature of God ; or God 
 would be divided against Himself. And yet it had the 
 Divine permission, whatever that may be imagined to 
 have been. With every attribute roused and alert — ^in- 
 finity of power, infinity of wisdom, infinity of holiness, 
 God stood by and let evil enter. Angels revolted first, 
 somewhere among the stars. Mankind revolted. Was 
 evil really unavoidable in a proper moral system ? If 
 so, immorality is not immoral. Evil that is really essen- 
 tial to good should not be considered evil. It would 
 be only the bitter bud of the fragrant blossom and the 
 luscious fruit. Or, putting it in another form, will yon 
 say that God could not have prevented evil ? He cer- 
 tainly could have prevented it. In Heaven to-day, what 
 is the security of saints and angels, of your own dear 
 sainted mother, of Gabriel himself, but God's own 
 grace, constraining the will of every saint, constraining 
 the will of every seraph ? What is human sin but the 
 abuse of human appetites, of human passions, of human 
 faculties, in themselves all innocent ? Study the lesson 
 of our Lord's temptation in the desert. Certainly, He 
 was not tempted as we are, by inflamed appetites and 
 
ETERNAL ATONEMENT T 
 
 passions, by impaired and disordered faculties. But 
 He possessed all these natural appetites, passions, and 
 faculties ; and they were put to a real and a tremendous 
 strain. That " great duel," as Milton calls it, was no 
 sham fight ; one or the other had to go down. Christ 
 was gnawed by hunger, but refused to eat. He saw 
 what might be done by a brilliant miracle towards in- 
 augurating His Jewish ministry, but refused to work 
 it. He saw the short, Satanic path to Messianic do- 
 minion, but chose Gethsemane and Calvary. Now the 
 first Adam was just as cool and just as innocent as the 
 second Adam. And, with more of grace to strengthen 
 him, he too might have stood. There was no real ne- 
 cessity for that first human disobedience. It was sheer, 
 wanton, gratuitous, inexplicable apostasy. Somewhat 
 more of Divine constraintj and the catastrophe would 
 certainly have been averted. Call it non-prevention, 
 call it permission, call it anything you please, somehow 
 sin entered in spite of God's hating it. It came knock- 
 ing for admission, and God's shoulder was not against 
 the gate. For some reason, or reasons, not revealed, 
 perhaps not revealable, God thought it best not to put 
 His shoulder against the gate. The hateful and hated 
 thing pushed through. Ormuzd let in Ahriman. I 
 thank the Persian for these two words. They embody 
 and emphasize the historic dualism of good and evil. 
 The historic dualism, you will observe I say ; there is 
 no other dualism. God is One ; and master of all. The 
 Divine permission of hateful and hated evil, when we 
 fairly apprehend it, is a tremendous statement, which 
 might well be challenged, were not the thing itself so 
 undeniably a fact. This is as far as we can go. Here 
 
8 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 we halt, with our bruised and throbbing foreheads hard 
 up against the granite cliff. 
 
 Practically, historic sin finds relief in historic re- 
 demption. Apparently, there was little, if any, interval 
 between the two. Sin came, perhaps, with the noon- 
 tide rest. " In the cool of the day " — ^that same day, 
 most likely, the offended Lord came walking in the 
 garden. The colloquy had a sharp beginning, but a 
 mellow ending. The bitten heel would finally crush 
 the biting head. And the struggle at once began. 
 The Lord came down very close to His erring, guilty, 
 frightened children. And they clung very closely to 
 Him, We are in great danger of underrating that 
 primitive economy of grace. The record is very brief, 
 and the oriental genius of it seems strange to us. But 
 we see an altar there; and it can have had but one, 
 meaning. Ages after, in all the nobler ethnic relig- 
 ions — ^Egyptian, Indian, Persian, and Pelasgic, we en- 
 counter echoes and survivals of that first vouchsafement 
 of revelation. In all the great religions, we find one 
 God ; in all of them, personal immortality, with retri- 
 bution ; in most of them. Divine Triads ; in two of 
 them at least, the resurrection of the body. If it be 
 true, as we may well believe, that Socrates is now in 
 Heaven, singing the new song, it is because he sacrificed ; 
 and he sacrificed, whether he fully understood it or 
 not, because of that coUoquy in the garden. And if 
 that sufficed for him, the Providence of God is justi- 
 fied. Historic sin is fairly matched, and overmatched, 
 by historic redemption. 
 
 But the Lamb slain from the foundation of the 
 world, suggests a far sublimer theodicy. We are taken 
 
tlTEBNAL ATONEMENT 9 
 
 back behind the human ages, behind all time, into aw- 
 ful infinite depths, into the very bosom of the Triune 
 God. Theological science recognizes two Trinities, 
 which it calls economic and essential. The former be- 
 gan with historic redemption, and kept pace with it. 
 Father, Son, and Spirit stood for law, redemption, and 
 regeneration. It was economic Trinity that suggested 
 essential Trinity. But for the historic process, the 
 question might not have seemed worth asking, whether 
 Grod is One only, pr Three also, and the Three in One. 
 The Hebrew mind, as represented by Philo, was only 
 just beginning to be trinitarian, when Christ's life in 
 the flesh compelled the Hebrew mind, as represented 
 by Peter, Paul, and John, to a new theology. After 
 Pentecost, bald XJnitarianism was anachronous. Chris- 
 tian experience logically required three Divine Persons, 
 of one and the same Divine Essence. Economic Trinity 
 required essential Trinity. 
 
 Essential Trinity is anything but an arbitrary con- 
 ception of God. Wiclif taught it at Oxford as a 
 necessary doctrine of reason. Trinity is another name 
 for the self-consciousness, and self-communion, of God. 
 Father, Son, and Spirit are vastly more than the reve- 
 lation of God to man ; they are the revelation of God 
 to Himself, and the intercourse of God with Himself. 
 They suggest infinite fulness and richness of being. Our 
 scientific definitions of God do not amount to much. At 
 best, they formulate only very inadequate conceptions of 
 Him. It is assumed that these scientific definitions of 
 God take us farther than the Biblical descriptions of 
 God. We had better not feel too sure of that. At- 
 tributes in action may impart a better knowledge than 
 
10 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 attributes abstractly defined. Pictures for children 
 may be better than creeds and catechisms. What vre 
 need is to see God in the life both of nature, and of 
 man. This the Hebrew Prophets enable us to do by 
 their anthropomorphic and anthropopathic pictures of 
 God. If you say the pictures are childish, then I must 
 say that we are children, all of us, and had better be 
 children. It is no real scandal to science to be told, 
 that " the eyes of the Lord are in every place, behold- 
 ing the evil and the good "; ' that " the eyes of the 
 Lord are upon the righteous, and His ears are open 
 unto their cry "; " that the Lord " smelled a sweet sa- 
 vour " ' from Noah's altar ; while wicked men are con- 
 sumed by " the breath of His nostrils "; * that " the 
 voice of the Lord breaketh the cedars of Lebanon "; ° 
 and He " walketh upon the wings of the wind " ; ° and 
 that at last, in the Messianic time, the Lord will make 
 " bare His holy arm in the eyes of all the nations." ' 
 God is not a mere aggregate of attributes. He has a 
 personality as distinct and positive as yours and mine. 
 But the personality is infinite in all its outgoings. 
 God's being is a vast abyss which no plummet has ever 
 sounded. Imagine all you can of boundless power, 
 constantly at work; of boundless intelligence, con- 
 stantly at work; of boundless passion, constantly at 
 work: God is all that, and immeasurably more than 
 that. What right has any one to say that God is pas- 
 sionless ? God. Himself has never said it. He is not 
 passionless. Like the sun. He is all aflame ; He rejoices 
 in the truth ; He hates a lie. He is pleased with what is 
 
 'Prov. XV. 3. s Ps. xxxiv. 15. ' Gen. viii. 21. * Job iv. 9. 
 ' Ps. xsdx. 5. « Ps. civ. 3. ' Is. lii. 10. 
 
STERNAL ATONEMENT \\ 
 
 right, and displeased with, what is wrong. Good men 
 are the apple of His eye; bad men His abomination 
 and His scorn. Eendered literally, " Grod is a righteous 
 Judge, and a God who is angry every day." ' 
 
 But God is love. So says John in that famous pas- 
 sage, over which the theologians are still disputing, 
 whether the meaning be that love Is only one of the 
 Divine attributes, or is that very essence of God, into 
 which every other attribute may be resolved. Some of 
 the profoundest thinkers of our day accept these three 
 words of John, " God is love," "^ as the final definition 
 of God. Sunshine striking a tear-drop, may give us 
 the seven colors of the rainbow ; but the seven colors 
 are all one blessed light. God creates, governs, judges, 
 punishes, pities, redeems, and saves ; but love is the 
 root of all. It was love that created this wondrous 
 universe, to which science can set no bounds. It was 
 love that created angels, some of whom rebelled, and 
 were " delivered into chains of darkness." ° It was love 
 that created this human brotherhood, all of whom have 
 rebelled and gone astray. This rebellion was per- 
 mitted ; but was rebellion all the same. God feels it ; 
 and has always felt it. Absalom has broken his fa- 
 ther's heart; and we are Absalom. The grand old 
 King goes up over Olivet weeping, with his head 
 covered, and his feet bare; and that King is God. 
 Only He is the King Eternal, and His agony over sin 
 is also eternal. This agony of God over human sin is 
 the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world. God 
 Himself atones, to Himself atones ; and so atonement 
 is both eternal and divine. 
 
 > Ps. vii. 11. « 1 John iv. 8, 16. » 2 Pet. ii. 4. 
 
12 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 In that matchless epitome of the Gospel — the par- 
 able of the Prodigal Sod, reported only by Luke, not a 
 word is said, not a glimpse is given, of the father of 
 the Prodigal during all that interval between the de- 
 parture and the return. A veil is drawn over all those 
 bitter, weary years. So has God yearned and suffered 
 in the silent depths of His own eternity, waiting and 
 watching for the repentant Prodigal. This yearning, 
 grieved, and suffering God is the God and Father of 
 oar Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ ; Son of God, Son 
 of Mary. This sinless child should have had no griefs 
 of His ovm. His sorrows could have been only those 
 old eternal shadows of permitted sin. The cross on 
 which He died, flinging out its arms as if to embrace 
 the world, lifted up its head toward the Lamb slain 
 from the foundation of the world. Our hearts now go 
 back to Calvary ; and from Calvary they go up to God. 
 
 One word more. This stupendous idea of eternal 
 atonement carries with it the idea of universal atone- 
 ment. Whatever it was, and is, it must needs have 
 been infinite. No magnitude of sin, no multitude of 
 sinners, can bankrupt its treasury of grace. " God so 
 loved the world" ' is its everlasting refrain. " He that 
 will, let him take the water of life freely." " " Take " 
 is the word, my hearers. Let us remember this. There 
 is something for us to do. God Himself cannot pardon 
 an impenitent offender. LE pardon were offered, it could 
 not be accepted. It is a law of our own being, that we 
 must repent. O Lamb of God, slain so long ago, save 
 us at last, when Thou comest in the clouds ; and save 
 us here to-day, 
 
 ' John iii. 16. ' Eev. xxii. 17. 
 
ETERNAL ATONEMENT 13 
 
 It is one of the revelations of Scripture that we are 
 to judge the angels ; sitting above them on the shining 
 heights. It may well be so. Those angels are the Im- 
 perial Guard, doing easy duty at home. We are the 
 Tenth Legion, marching in from the swamps and for- 
 ests of the far-ofE frontier; scarred and battered, but 
 victorious over death and sin. 
 
 The following stanza from Dean Alford's grand hymn appears 
 upon the last page of this, the last sermon written by Dr. Hitch- 
 cock. By a singular coincidence it was the stanza especially se- 
 lected to he sung in the burial service at Dr. Hitchcock's funeral, 
 although in entire ignorance of its existence in the manuscript. 
 
 Ten thousand times ten thousand 
 
 In sparkling raiment bright. 
 The armies of the ransom'd saints 
 
 Throng up the steeps of light : 
 'Tis flnish'd, all is flnish'd. 
 
 Their flght with death and sin : 
 Fling open wide the golden gates. 
 
 And let the victors in. 
 
II 
 WHO CAN FORGIVE SINS? 
 
WHO CAN FOKGIVE SINS ? 
 
 " Who canforgim sins but God only ? "— Maek ii. 7. 
 
 Yon remember the story of the paralytic, told by all 
 three of the Synoptists. It was near the beginning of 
 the Galilean ministry. The place was Capernaum, on 
 the Lake, under the hill, in the northeast corner of 
 the little Plain of Gennesaret. The house was of the 
 kind you can see in Syria to-day ; not large, of a single 
 story, some eight feet high, its roof generally of loose 
 timbers laid straight across from wall to wall, covered 
 with earth rolled hard. This particular house, where 
 the Galilean Prophet then was, appears to have had its 
 flat roof covered, in part at least, with tiles. A dense 
 crowd had gathered, filling the house, and filling the 
 yard. It was no mere running together of village 
 neighbors. Pharisees and Doctors of the Law were 
 there ; Luke says, from every part of Galilee, and also 
 from Judea and Jerusalem.' 
 
 Jesus, who had spent a good part of the previous 
 year in Judea, and had been now not very long in Gal- 
 ilee, was speaking to this crowd. He stood, most 
 likely, in the doorway, or near it, so as to be heard all 
 around. Some one, palsy-stricken, wished to be set on 
 bis feet again; and knew who could do it for him, if 
 
 ' Jjuke V. 17. 
 
 (17) 
 
18 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 He only would. Four men/ neighbors probably of the 
 paralytic, came along bringing him on a mat, holding 
 on one at each corner of it. The eager, selfish crowd 
 would not give way. Then the four men mounted the 
 roof, by an outside stairway probably, took up some of 
 the tiles," and managed somehow to let the mat down, 
 with the paralyzed man upon it, right at the feet of Je- 
 sus. One look was enough, both ways. Jesus saw the 
 praj'er that was in the poor man's heart, did not wait 
 for it to reach his Ups, but answered before the asking : 
 " My child, thy sins have been forgiven thee." The 
 thing was done. You should have seen the faces of 
 those Scribes and Pharisees, I almost hear Mark say. 
 The Galilean Prophet read their hearts too, hearing the 
 questions that were not syllabled : " Why doth this man 
 thus speak blasphemies? Who can forgive sins but 
 God only?" 
 
 This last unspoken question is our text to-day : " Who 
 can forgive sins but God only ? " Whether God Him- 
 self can, or cannot, we will consider by and by. 
 
 I. Whether God can forgive sins or not, it is certain 
 that no other being can. 
 
 This was taken for granted by the Scribes and Phar- 
 isees, who heard what was said, and saw what was done, 
 at Capernaum. It was taken for granted by Him whom 
 they charged in their hearts with blasphemy. It has 
 generally been taken for granted always and every- 
 where. 
 
 It is, indeed, one of those axiomatic propositions 
 which gain nothing by being argued. And, for this 
 ' Mark ii. 3. » Luke v. 19. 
 
WHO CAN FOBQIVE 8INSf 19 
 
 very reason, it has been losing its sinewy gripe on the 
 average understanding and conscience of our time. 
 
 This is a seientiiic age no doubt. And we ought not 
 to be sorry for it, nor afraid of it, although the science 
 is inordinately physical instead of metaphysical, stag- 
 gers under its burden of facts, and is frequently mis- 
 taking its own unproved hypotheses for laws. 
 
 But this is also a very sentimental age. In English 
 fiction, for example, to say nothing of French and 
 German, we have only to compare Dickens with Scott. 
 In poetry, we have only to compare certain living 
 favorites, whom I need not name, with Coleridge and 
 Wordsworth. Flutes and trumpets are not more un- 
 like ; nor lilacs and oaks ; nor yachts and frigates. 
 "We miss the old ring, the old fibre, the old majesty of 
 movement. 
 
 In the handling of moral questions generally, the 
 first appeal, and the final appeal, is apt to be to feeling ; 
 not the feeling that is deepest, but the feeling that is near- 
 est the surface, and responds so quickly to mere pathos. 
 Now that satire has found a name for this weak senti- 
 mentality, a name not to be spoken here, we may hope 
 to see less of it. But we shall not so soon be rid of its 
 effects. It has taken the iron out of our blood ; the 
 brawn out of our ethics and politics ; the justice and 
 judgment out of our theology. 
 
 One revival that I am praying for, is a revival of 
 axioms, of moral axioms. It is a poor kind of intellect 
 that takes nothing for granted. Water, whatever Chem- 
 istry may say of it, drowns ; and fire burns ; and frost 
 freezes. Eight is right, and conscience approves it. 
 Wrong is wrong, and conscience condemns it. It was 
 
20 ETEBNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 SO yesterday ; is so to-day ; and will be just the same 
 to-morrow, and forever. 
 
 Let us look now, for a little, into this matter of for- 
 giveness. I ask you to concede me nothing except 
 barely a personal God, over against this human con- 
 science of right and wrong. If I were cast alone on a 
 tropical island, whither nobody would ever follow me, 
 and where, with little effort, 1 might live comfortably 
 for many years, and I should give way grossly to an 
 inordinate appetite for food and drink, but after awhile 
 should see my folly, and repent bitterly of my intem- 
 perance, having wronged no human being but myself, 
 could I forgive myself % I^o, I could not. There is 
 another factor in this problem, greater than I. I have 
 done more than wrong myself. As a creature, I have 
 wronged my Creator. I have sinned against the laws 
 ordained by Him for the health and comfort of my 
 body. I have sinned against the image of God in my 
 soul, putting it to shame in this subjection to bestial 
 appetite ; and I cannot look God in the face. I have 
 no right to forgive myself. I cannot forgive myself. 
 God would have to die first. Eternity would have to 
 end first. This is what conscience says to-day. This 
 is what conscience will say to-morrow, and forever. 
 
 Look again. The scene is changed. I am no longer 
 alone on my tropical island. Others have joined me 
 there ; men and women. Children are born. Society 
 developes. Institutions are organized. Some of us are 
 farmers. Some are mechanics. Some are tradesmen, 
 and bankers. Some are artists. Some are physicians, 
 and lawyers. Clergymen are not called for, revealed 
 religion finding no place in our Utopia. Things move 
 
WHO GAN FORGIVE aiNSf 21 
 
 on very smoothly for awhile. By and by, we begin to 
 crowd one another. Life becomes a rivalry, and a strug- 
 gle. The strong keep the sidewalk ; the weak go to 
 the wall. We begin to talk about " the survival of the 
 fittest." Men live more and more by their wits. Car- 
 penters, and masons, and plumbers build us poor houses. 
 Farmers water their milk, and sell it for pure ; or sell 
 their grain, scanting the measure. The baker's loaf is 
 under weight. The grocer also forgets how many ounces 
 it takes to make a pound. Tea, cofEee, flour, sugar, 
 everything, is adulterated, even the medicines. Trades- 
 men promise to be contented with a ten per centum 
 clear profit ; but try to get fifteen or twenty. Wild 
 land on the other side of the island is put upon the 
 market. Ore is found, of iron, or gold, or silver ; very 
 shortly a company is formed, and its stock goes boom- 
 ing up, or comes crashing down, without much regard 
 to its intrinsic value. Physicians call one another 
 quacks. Lawyers call one another pettifoggers. Clergy- 
 men, if there were any, might be calling one another 
 heretics. Cultured and fashionable women envy and 
 slur one another. The old domestic contentment and 
 purity give place to their opposites. The most tender 
 and sacred ties are ruptured. By and by, violence breaks 
 out, in robbery and murder. And we begin to be 
 alarmed. Society is threatened with paralysis. What 
 can be done to save it ? Some Confucian John the 
 Baptist appears, crying shame, and preaching repent- 
 ance and reformation. What happens ? First of all, 
 we stop doing the bad things ; stop short. Then we 
 beg one another's forgiveness, making all possible rep- 
 aration. Of course we do. And there are no human 
 
22 ETEBNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 beings anywhere else that we know about, to be af- 
 fected, one way or the other, by any acts of ours. It is 
 all our own affair exclusively. May we not, then, for- 
 give one another, and be done with it, wholly and 
 forever ? No, we may not. We are not alone here on 
 our little island. We have sinned against God, in sin- 
 ning against one another ; and we must answer to Him 
 for it. Mutual forgiveness is as illogical as self-for- 
 giveness. As far as it goes, of course it is good ; but 
 it goes only a very little way. We have no right to 
 forgive one another. We cannot forgive one another. 
 Forgiveness, real and complete, can neither go nor 
 come, can neither be given nor accepted, between man 
 and man. As I have said before, God would have to 
 die first. Eternity would have to end first. This is 
 what conscience says to-day, will say to-morrow, and 
 will say forever. 
 
 I am almost ashamed to be insisting upon anything 
 so elementary and axiomatic. But I dare not be 
 ashamed of it. There is something in the air which 
 predisposes us to think lightly of sin. And I must 
 warn you against it ; and warn myself against it. Ques- 
 tions of conscience are only in part subjective and 
 social. They are between us and the Unseen ; between 
 us and the Eternal ; between us and the All- Just ; be- 
 tween us and the All-Terrible. I do not see nor touch 
 Him yet. But when this tired breast stops heaving, 
 and this tired pulse stops beating, quick as thought, 
 quicker than lightning, I shall be with Him, face to 
 face. Only one question shall I then care to have an- 
 swered : Can Me forgive f I do not, dare not, can 
 not forgive myself ; can He forgive me ? Yes ? or No ? 
 
WHO CAN FOBOIVE 8IN8f 23 
 
 II. Let lis ask, and answer this question now : Can 
 Ood forgive ? 
 
 In the dainty, superficial thinking of our time, which 
 comes of so much self-indulgence, softening the men- 
 tal and moral fibre. Divine forgiveness is easy. It is 
 assumed that suffering must cease some time. A bold 
 assumption, in the face of a creation which has always 
 sighed and groaned. If God is not impeached or dis- 
 turbed by suffering to-day, why need He be to-morrow, 
 or next day, or the next? Endlessness of anything 
 appals and bewilders the imagination, but never stag- 
 gers the reason. If suffering be the shadow of sin, the 
 mystery, of course, is not in the suffering, but in the 
 sin. And the awful mystery of sin is not in its chro- 
 nology, but in its essence ; not in its continuance, but 
 in its origin. 
 
 Much is said also of onr insignificance, and that, too, 
 by men who, in other relations, make great account of 
 the dignity of human nature. God, it is said, can suf- 
 fer no loss at our hands. We cannot rob Him of any 
 treasure. We cannot compromise His character. We 
 cannot, for one moment, disturb the serenity in which 
 He dwells. Nothing that we can do, or say, or think, 
 or feel, touches Him at all. We might as well be 
 shooting arrows at the stars. 
 
 Somebody once asked Daniel Webster what was the 
 most important thought that ever occupied his mind. 
 The propriety of the question hardly equalled the so- 
 lidity of the answer. " The most important thought 
 that ever occupied my mind," said he, " was that of my 
 individual responsibility to God." ' The talk of twenty 
 ' Peter Harvey's Reminiscences, p. 404. 
 
M BTBBNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 minutes that followed this solemn utterance, clung long 
 to the memories of the few that heard it, but was never 
 committed to writing. 
 
 This conversation occurred at one of the Public 
 Houses in this city. E'obody, here in New York, prob- 
 ably, ever heard a grander sermon, before or since. It 
 touched what is, after all, the first and deepest of the 
 mysteries. Every summer I improve the opportunity 
 of studying the faces of animals on the farm ; espe- 
 cially the dogs, the horses, the oxen, and the cows. I 
 am much impressed by the completeness of their sub- 
 jection to man. Great, strong creatures that might 
 trample us under foot, or catch the bits in their teeth, 
 and run away with us, tearing us all to pieces. I am 
 also much impressed by their susceptibiHty to the kind- 
 ness of man. . I am never tired of looking into their 
 Jarge, calm eyes. The Homeric /Jocaa'iff "Hpij is a 
 compliment to the Goddess. I resent the roughness 
 with which they are sometimes handled. It pains me 
 to think of so much intelligence, so much fidelity, and 
 so much affection as doomed to extinction. And yet 
 I see in these creatures no trace of what agitates my 
 soul when I look up sometimes into the starry sky. I 
 am weaker than some of them, I am crushed before 
 the moth ; but the awful, Infinite God never takes His 
 eyes off of me, day nor night, and never lets a deed, nor 
 a thought, nor a feeling, of mine go unmarked in the 
 great book. 
 
 Suppose now I am conscious of sin, as I certainly am ; 
 what kind of an eternity awaits me ? Certainly, God 
 cannot change at all. He can never hate what He has 
 always loved; can never love what He has always 
 
WHO CAN FORGIVE SINSf 25 
 
 hated, lifor can He annihilate the facts. What I have 
 done, is done. What I was, I was. What I am, I am. 
 Everything is vividly remembered, and everything is 
 sharply seen by Him, and by me. And we know one 
 another ; He and I. Of course, He cannot forget. Nor 
 can I forget. But can ^e forgive ? 
 
 Psychology admits no possibility of forgiveness. On 
 purely rational grounds, it is inconceivable. Plato 
 could see nothing ahead but either penalty, or penance. 
 Some speakers and writers of our time, affecting phi- 
 losophy, are eloquent about work and wages, being and 
 condition, character and destiny. Very well, gentle- 
 men : but do you know what you are saying ? 
 
 Tou hate our iron-clad Orthodoxy. But our Creed, 
 as you must yourselves admit, has some mercy in it ; 
 while your Creed has no mercy in it at all. To be con- 
 sistent, you should get rid of your idea of a personal 
 God, as perhaps you have already. As you put things, 
 this universe might just as well be governed by some 
 impersonal Force. The laws are all alike, whether 
 physical or moral. 
 
 It is just here that the road forks : Plato and his dis- 
 ciples going one way, the Nazarene and His disciples 
 going the other way. Plato's philosophy, monotheistic 
 in its general intent and aim, had yet some pantheistic 
 elements in it. Our God has moral personality ; and is 
 Three in One. We also are His children, made in His 
 image. And though, as things were ordered, we were 
 sure to sin, and have sinned, and are to sin. He loved, 
 and loves us still. And in the unsearchable depths of 
 His being, in eternity. He took upon Himself the bur- 
 den of this sin. 
 
26 ETBBNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 Just what Atonement is, I cannot tell you, since the 
 Biblical terminology is all of it figurative. But this I 
 may believe, and this I must believe, that the atone- 
 ment, in which I cast the anchor of my hope, is not 
 temporal, but eternal. God, within Himself, inflicted 
 that upon Himself, and suffered that from Himself, 
 into which His angels have never looked, and never 
 can. Only this hint has been given of it, that the Lamb 
 was slain before the morning stars sang together. To 
 call it debt cancelled, or ransom paid, or anger appeased, 
 is only to touch the border of a tremendous mystery. 
 
 Whatever it was, or is, it expresses the innermost 
 character of God. It reveals an intensity of infinite 
 affection of which no finite intelligence would have 
 dared to dream ; an affection which endures in spite 
 of sin, and which has set. out to conquer sin. So is it 
 permitted us to say that " God is Love." This may 
 not be strictest formal definition. But we never 
 say God is Justice : we only say that God is just. 
 Atonement suggests and warrants the declaration that 
 " God is LoveP 
 
 Somehow, on the basis of this atonement, and in 
 pursuance of its purpose, God forgives. 
 
 What is forgiveness ? Not mere remission of pen- 
 alty. Moral penalty never can be remitted without 
 moral change. How is it with us ? My neighbor 
 commits a trespass, says he is sorry for it, does what 
 he can to repair the damage inflicted upon me, and 
 begs to be forgiven. Would he repeat the trespass to- 
 morrow, if he were tempted, and had the chance ? If 
 so, then I cannot forgive him to-day ; not, will not, but 
 cam/not, absolutely cannot forgive him. Nor can he be 
 
WHO CAN FORGIVE SINSf 27 
 
 forgiven. He must be sorry enough not to do it again. 
 Then I can forgive him : So far, I mean, as forgive- 
 ness is possible between man and man. And he can, 
 to the same extent, be forgiven. On any other terms, 
 forgiveness is a solecism, an absurdity, a downright im- 
 morality. To forgive an offence that I know will be 
 repeated is to be accessory to that offence, before and 
 after. 
 
 Divine forgiveness can go no farther than human 
 forgiveness, and achieve no more. It must observe the 
 same ethical laws. It must have the same high ethical 
 tone. " Go, and sin no more," is always the condition 
 of forgiveness ; not emphasized in the case of the re- 
 penting Malefactor, simply because he was about to die. 
 This, in another form, is the Pauline doctrine of justi- 
 fication by faith, not reconciled, but identified, with 
 the Jacobean doctrine of justification by works. Mar- 
 tin Luther must have repented long ago of what he 
 said so rashly about the Epistle of James, calling it " a 
 veritable straw-epistle." James himself, the writer of 
 this Epistle, had his brains beaten out with a fuller's 
 club ; and the wiser part of the Jewish people, Hege- 
 sippus informs us, looked upon the Roman Conquest 
 as a Divine Judgment upon them for their crime. The 
 early Protestantism, doing violence to th^ same Apostle, 
 provoked the rod of the same providence. Luther 
 died lamenting Protestant declensions and scandals. 
 What Protestantism needs to-day is more ethics, more 
 of the old penitential discipline, more character. 
 
 Antinomianism, to be sure, is one of the branded 
 heresies ; and Antinomians are in suflBciently bad re- 
 pute. But who ever heard of Nomians? "We say 
 
28 ETERNAL ATONPUENT 
 
 Legalists instead, using the word in a bad sense. We 
 had better let James be heard. 
 
 Faith and works are soul and body. Works are of 
 faith, and faith is itself a work, and grace gives it all. 
 No man is forgiven till he repents ; no man repents 
 till he believes ; and no man believes without obedi- 
 ence. The root, the trunk, the branches, and the 
 leaves are all one tree. In short, the end of forgive- 
 ness is simply character : the end, the demonstration, 
 and the measure of it all. 
 
 Character is imperfect now. We are forgiven ; and 
 we sin again. We do not mean to sin : we mean not 
 to sin. But when we would do good, evil is present 
 with us. The good we would, we do not. The evil 
 we would not, that we do. Ormuzd and Ahriman are 
 in all our lives. It is the old and awful mystery, 
 against which we strike our heads as against an ada- 
 mantine wall. We sail over vexed and tossing seas : 
 the storms of wild passion may have ceased ; but the 
 heavy, long ground-swell of inbred sin rolls on. 
 
 Life is not victory, but battle. Fight on, fight on. 
 The perfect character shall come at last. What, O 
 what will it be to fight no more ? And shall we then 
 forget the battles ? Shall we then forget our sins ? 
 Why should we ? Hated, renounced, subdued, let them 
 hang on the walls of memory, like the shields of van- 
 quished enemies. Be patient a little longer. By and 
 by, in our hushed and waiting chambers, each in his 
 turn, we shall hear the sunset gun. 
 
Ill 
 
 RELIGION, THE DOING OF GOD'S WILL 
 
EELIGION, THE DOING OF GOD'S 
 WILL 
 
 "Not every one that saith unto Me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into 
 the Kingdom of Heaven ; hut he tliat doeth the will of My Father 
 who is in Mea/oen." — Matthew vii. 31. 
 
 These words are taken from Christ's Sermon on the 
 Mount. It is in this same discourse that He speaks of 
 the strait gate, and the narrow way, which leadeth 
 unto life ; and of the wide gate, and the broad way, 
 that leadeth unto death ; seeking evidently to make the 
 impression, that it is an easy thing for us to be lost, 
 and not an easy thing for us to be saved. 
 
 The same point is brought to view in a conversation 
 which our Lord had with His disciples near the end of 
 His life, as He was journeying with them for the last 
 time towards Jerusalem. " And one said unto Him, 
 Lord, are they few that are saved ? And He said unto 
 them. Strive to enter in by the narrow door ; for many, 
 I say unto you, shall seek to enter in, and shall not be 
 able." ' As though His reply had been : Only a few 
 will be saved, and they at the cost of a most intense 
 and bitter struggle. Diseipleship is not a thing of ease, 
 but of agony. 
 
 And so our Master has put a stern face upon the 
 
 ' Luke xiii. 33, 34. 
 
 (31) 
 
32 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 Christian life. The gateway to it is narrow, and the 
 path is hard ; not gently sloping towards the heavens, 
 but of sharp and wearisome ascent, over the mountains 
 and amongst the clouds ; while those who are in it are 
 not a thronging caravan, winding on with joyous 
 music, but a slender line of pilgrims, climbing at once, 
 and fighting, as soldiers who storm a fortress. This is 
 one aspect of the Christian life. 
 
 But there are other passages of a much milder and 
 more genial tone. Such, for example, as, " Come unto 
 Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will 
 give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn of 
 Me : for I am meek and lowly in heart : and ye shall 
 find rest unto your soxils. For My yoke is easy, and My 
 burden is hght." ' An utterance, the cadence of which is 
 tremulous and tender with a divine compassion, forbid- 
 ding distrust, and yearning to save us all. And this is 
 another aspect of the Christian life. 
 
 That these two modes of speech, apparently so much 
 at variance, involve really no mutual contradiction, but 
 are only different aspects of one and the same grand 
 economy of Hfe, will be put at once beyond aU ques- 
 tion, if we but observe the different classes of persons 
 to whom they were addressed. To souls harassed and 
 burdened by the weight of the law, moral and ceremo- 
 nial, painfully conscious of their own deficiencies, 
 brought to desperation by the sconrgings of conscience, 
 and willing to accept any deliverance which God may 
 offer, Christ presents Himself as a helping Eriend. 
 Gentle as a summer breeze, He will break no bruised 
 reed, He will quench no smoking wick. His yoke is 
 
 ' Matt. xi. 38-30. 
 
RELIGION, THE DOING OF GOD'S WILL 33 
 
 easy and His burden light.' But to souls once lifted 
 up out of their legal thraldom, and once delivered over 
 into the freedom of the Gospel, this same Christ pre- 
 sents Himself as a Master ; and His word is, " Ye are 
 My friends, if ye do whatsoever I command you." " 
 
 Equally notable is the seeming contradiction, but 
 real harmony, between Paul and James, both of them 
 speak of one and the same man, Abraham. " To him 
 that worketh not . . . ." says Paul, " his faith is count- 
 ed for righteousness." ° " Te see then," says James, 
 " how that by works a man is justified, and not by 
 faith only." * " By faith," says Paul ; " by works," 
 says James. Martin Luther, seeking to deliver and re- 
 vive a Church fettered and paralyzed by the Mediaeval 
 heresy, which made faith and works co-ordinate as the 
 ground of acceptance with God, has no patience with 
 this Epistle of James, calls it an " Epistle of straw," 
 and preaches Christ in a strain of well-nigh intemper- 
 ate and lawless liberty. " The Gospel," he says in his 
 trenchant style, "preaches nothing of the merit of 
 works ; he that says the Gospel requires works for sal- 
 vation, I say, flat and plain, is a liar." ' But this first 
 conflict being over, the thraldom broken, and the life 
 renewed, those who follow Luther proclaim once more 
 the necessity of works. " We dream not," says Calvin, 
 " of a faith which is devoid of good works, nor of a 
 justification which can exist without them." ° And 
 there is falsehood in neither of these statements ; nor 
 any real contradiction between them. Only the truth 
 
 ' Matt. xi. 38-30. ^ John xv. 14. 
 
 ' Rom. iv. 5. ■* James ii. 34. 
 
 ' Table Talk, p. 333. » Inst., vol. ii. p. 386, 
 
34: ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 has a double front. Facing towards formalism, its front 
 is grace. Facing towards the conscience of a pardoned 
 sinner, rejoicing in hope, its front is good works. 
 
 Such is the law of utterance on this subject as estab- 
 lished by Christ Himself, observed by His Apostles, 
 observed by the great champions of the Protestant Ref- 
 ormation, and demanding to be observed by us. Ad- 
 dressing the unregenerate, who writhe under the bond- 
 age of evil, and are pining to be delivered, our message 
 is, " Believe and be saved." But the moment belief is 
 rendered, and the deliverance achieved, while yet the 
 eyes are streaming with grateful tears, and the shout of 
 triumph is bursting from the lips, we confront the jubi- 
 lant disciple with these stem words of our Hedeemer: 
 " If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, 
 and take up his cross, and follow Me." ' 
 
 To the latter class of persons, the ransomed and the 
 rejoicing, is my errand now. I come to speak not of 
 grace, but of duty ; not of faith, but of works ; not of 
 the sweet beginnings of the Christian life, in the midst 
 of which we may stand and shout, but of the far-reach- 
 ing, rugged, and upward path, along which the bugle 
 calls us to march and struggle for our crown. 
 
 Our text, it will be observed, is in close connection 
 with what was said of the strait gate, and the narrow 
 way. And few, few there be that find it. " Not every 
 one that saith unto Me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the 
 Kingdom of Heaven ; but he that doeth the will of My 
 Father, who is in Heaven." As to the exact meaning 
 of these words, it may be remarked, that to call Christ, 
 Lord, ift to acknowledge Him as the Messiah ; and by 
 ' Matt. xvi. 24. 
 
RELIGION, THE DOING OF GOD'S WILL 35 
 
 the repetition of the address, Lord, Lord, it is implied 
 that the acknowledgment is eager and ardent. In a 
 word, the head is orthodox, and the heart, apparently, 
 is warm. And yet this correct and glowing acknowl- 
 edgment of Christ as the Messiah, however emphatic, 
 and however fervid, is not suiHcient to save the soul. 
 As for the orthodoxy of it, the devils also believe. 
 And as for the fervor of it, self-deception is as easy, as 
 the heart is deceitful above all things. Any man, of 
 course, will think he loves Christ, if he only imagines 
 that Christ will save him ; while, after all, it is not 
 Christ that he loves, but only his own soul, selfishly 
 sighing and scheming to have it saved. Neither sound 
 beliefs, therefore, nor ardent affections, are enough. 
 There is also something to be done ; there are self- 
 denials to be endured ; there is a warfare to be waged ; 
 a life-long service to be accomplished. In short, we 
 are to be saved, through Christ, not by our beliefs, nor 
 by our feelings, but by our lives ; by what we are, as 
 embodied in what we do. Keligion is not a dogma, 
 nor an emotion, but a service. Our Redemption is not 
 of the head alone, nor of the heart alone, but pre-em- 
 inently and most decisively, of the life, as the only in- 
 fallible criterion of what we really are. It is to the 
 elucidation and enforcement of this important truth, 
 that your attention is now invited. 
 
 I. In the first place, let us be warned against making 
 our religion a matter merely of opinion. 
 
 It is implied in our text, that there were persons 
 amongst the Jews who acknowledged Christ as the 
 Messiah, perhaps had joined themselves to His com- 
 
36 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 pany, and yet were not His genuine disciples. They 
 were persuaded of His Divine authority and mission, 
 on many points understood and relished His teachings, 
 but were not the subjects of His grace. Some of this 
 class fell away from their discipleship as the instruc- 
 tions of the Master deepened. As for example, on 
 that memorable occasion, when om- Lord told His hear- 
 ers that they must eat His flesh and drink His blood, 
 in order to have eternal life ; which so scandalized 
 many of His disciples even, that, as John relates, they 
 " went back and walked no more with Him." ' "While 
 others, probably, who withstood this shock of stagger- 
 ing doctrine, may have quailed and fainted under the 
 storm of persecution, which presently began to rage. 
 
 Similar instances abound in the history of the Chris- 
 tian Church. Multitudes have joined themselves to 
 the people of God, to all appearance savingly impressed 
 by Christian truth, and running well for a time, only 
 at length to fall into heresy and schism, and lose their 
 souls. Other multitudes, who were far enough from 
 any heresy of doctrine, have yet been Christians only 
 in their opinions, disciples of the Man of Nazareth 
 only as of some master in philosophy, with no renewal 
 of the heart, and no radical transformation of the life. 
 
 In our day, the number of such mere speculative believ- 
 ers is doubtless large. The religion of Christ, in its course 
 over the globe, and down through history, has been 
 winning for itself a fulness and force of demonstration, 
 which now almost compels the reverence of a thinking 
 mind. The infidelity, which, in Bishop Butler's day 
 would scarcely stoop to entertain with seriousness the 
 ' John vi. 53, 66, 
 
BELIGIOM, THE DOING OE GOD'S WILL 37 
 
 great questions of our Christian Faith, has since then 
 been obliged to entertain these questions, and, with 
 humbled crest, has been fairly routed from the field. 
 Into many spheres has the strife been carried, and in 
 many forms of assault have our lines been tried ; but 
 always, and at every point, with the same discomfiture 
 of the assaulting host. The Apologists of the early 
 centuries vanquished only single champions of error ; 
 now, whole battalions are dissolving before the breadth 
 and vigor of our charge. In all the higher walks of 
 learning, as in all the better walks of life, room has 
 been made for Christianity as an established and hon- 
 ored fact. So that the general current of opinion in 
 most of the Christian countries of the world, is dis- 
 tinctly Christian. Amongst the kingdoms of the earth, 
 established for earthly ends, there stands acknowledged 
 a kingdom of truth and grace, which is destined to out- 
 last them all. That would be regarded but a bhnd 
 philosophy of history, which should fail to make the 
 person of Christ the centre of its radiating lines. And 
 that would be regarded but a chattering and impotent 
 philanthropy, which should dream of any other Millen- 
 nium of peace and righteousness, than the one prom- 
 ised in the Scriptures. 
 
 Such, we say, are now the sentiments of wise and 
 thoughtful men. Their only hope for the world is in 
 the religion of Christ. They acknowledge Him as the 
 only possible Eedeemer of a stricken and sufEering 
 race. And how many may be resting indolently in 
 such a hope, and taking credit to themselves for such 
 an acknowledgment, making Christian opinions a sub- 
 stitute for Christian experience, God only knows. But 
 
38 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 I am afraid there are many such. It is a singular de- 
 vice of Satan, this of making the sublimest of truths 
 an opiate, rather than a stimulant to the human will ; 
 a singular delusion, this of mistaking the assent of the 
 understanding for the renewal of the heart ; the sinful 
 human soul calmly measuring, and, it may be, pro- 
 foundly admiring, the redemptive economy of the Gos- 
 pel, without advancing to a personal acceptance of it ; 
 standing by the side of this blessed Bethesda of heav- 
 enly grace, to applaud its miracles of healing, and yet 
 never stepping in. "We speak with pride, sometimes, 
 of our puissant Christendom, so industrious, so intelli- 
 gent, so moral, with its ubiquitous commerce, its adorn- 
 ing arts, its halls of learning, its happy firesides, and 
 its noble charities. And yet what is our vaunted Chris- 
 tendom but a vast assemblage of believing -but disobe- 
 dient men ? The so-called Christian nations, in what 
 one of them all is there more than a feeble fraction of 
 truly regenerated and praying men ? Our Christian 
 Sabbath congregations, gathered to hear the Gospel, in 
 which of them are not the real followers of Christ out- 
 numbered by more than two to one ? Judged of by 
 merely outward tokens, Christianity would seem to be 
 in the ascendant. Imperial edicts no longer assail hei 
 thickening ranks, the proudest philosophies have gone 
 down before her doctrines, and the boundaries of 
 heathendom are steadily retreating wherever she plants 
 her invading foot. But these outward tokens are de- 
 ceptive. They indicate the acceptance of Christianity 
 as an opinion, a polity, a culture, while they fail to 
 witness for the acceptance of it as an inward, spiritual, 
 renovating force. The Gospel preacher, stand where 
 
RELiaiON, THE BOINQ OF QOD'8 WILL 39 
 
 he will, is sure of a respectful, perhaps an applauding 
 audience ; but the chiefest burden of his message is 
 not regarded, and the chiefest longing of his heart is 
 not realized. The Cross of Christ is no offence to the 
 understanding of his hearers, but their proud wills are 
 not bowed before it. He faces a masked battery of 
 most orthodox, but most resolute impenitence. 
 
 But this is not the worst of it. Within the Church 
 itself, obviously enough, there are many persons, with 
 whom belief is made a substitute for something deeper 
 and better. Of such pre-eminently are the knights- 
 errant of orthodoxy, who ride up and down, vexing the 
 age with the shibboleths of their artificial and arbitrary 
 creeds. But not these alone. The number is not small 
 of such as are unconsciously lifting the dogma above 
 the life. The intellect arranges for itself, in admirable 
 proportions, the whole system of revealed truth, pro- 
 pounds, in careful statements, its doctrine of man, its 
 doctrine of God, its doctrine of Eedemption, and then 
 pauses in admiration of the imposing structure, or goes 
 about to praise it, and recommend it, mistaking thought 
 for feeling, opinion for experience, doctrine for life. 
 The glow experienced is of the intellect. Sin, indeed, 
 is acknowledged and emphasized ; the throne of God 
 planted firmly upon its pillars of righteousness, over- 
 looking, without a stain upon it, all this weltering chaos 
 of human evil ; and redemption is hailed, as the wis- 
 dom of God, mediating sublimely between His out- 
 raged law and His pitying love. All this may lie in 
 clearest vision before the soul, without stirring its 
 depths. Sin may have its enormity measured in spec- 
 ulation, without being bitterly repented of and for- 
 
40 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 saken. God and His ways may be justified, without 
 being loved. The plan of salvation through atoning 
 blood may be saluted as a grand solution of a stupen- 
 dous moral problem, without being made the stay of 
 hope ; welcomed as a relief to reason, but not applied 
 as a healing power to the wounded heart. Said William 
 Law to John Wesley, " The head can as easily amuse 
 itself with a living and justifying faith in the blood of 
 Jesus, as with any other notion." It is even so. A 
 truer word, pointed in warning against a greater peril, 
 was never uttered. The mistake in question is a very 
 subtle one, but very serious, and more common than, 
 perhaps, we think. 
 
 As thus of the doctrines, so also of the duties of our 
 religion. These duties may be objects merely of be- 
 lief, arranged in well-ordered systems, and acknowl- 
 edged to be the proper code of Hfe, without being 
 actually reduced to practice. The study of God's word, 
 the keeping of holy time, prayer and praise, a clean 
 heart and a clean life, with self-denying exertions, in all 
 feasible and hopeful ways, for the good of others, may 
 all be clearly recognized as Christian duties, without 
 being discharged. The most sacred duty may thus de- 
 cay into a dogma, asking only to be believed. " I go, 
 sir," answered the son in the Parable, " but went not." 
 
 n. In the second place, let us be warned against 
 making our religion a matter merely of feeling. 
 
 Of this also there is danger. In the life-time of our 
 Eedeemer, as we have seen, there were those who not 
 only acknowledged Him as the Messiah, but were for- 
 ward and demonstrative in that acknowledgment ; and 
 
HELIOION, THE DOING OF GOD'S WILL 41 
 
 yet were no true disciples of Him. Right in doctrine, 
 and right, apparently, in feeling, still they knew Him 
 not, nor He, them. Their language was not merely, 
 Lord, but Lord, Lord; and yet, after all, they perished, 
 neither the orthodoxy of their belief, nor the seeming 
 fervor of it, availing to save them. 
 
 Yery painful is it to think, how many there may have 
 been, down through all the Christian centuries, who 
 have wholly misjudged in regard to their own spiritual 
 state. Of sheer, deliberate hypocrisy, there has not 
 been so very much ; certainly not, if the entire course 
 of our Christian history be taken into account. At 
 times, no doubt, hypocrisy has abounded, as under 
 despotisms like that of the Constantines and of Theo- 
 dosius, which have adopted Christianity as the religion 
 of the State, making the profession of it indispensable 
 to civil office and emolument, and fencing it about with 
 pains and penalties. But here with us, where Church 
 and State are as utterly divorced as they ever can be, 
 and society has pledged itself that no man shall be 
 challenged for his faith, there is almost no motive what- 
 ever for a false profession. We have neither the soil 
 nor the climate for so noxious a growth. ]S^ow and 
 then, for private reasons, religion may be counterfeited, 
 but such eases are extremely rare. Most of those 
 amongst us who belong to the Church, without belong- 
 ing to Christ, are the victims of self-deception. They 
 fondly imagine themselves the subjects of a work of 
 grace, which has never been accomplished. They are 
 deceiving others, only because they have first deceived 
 themselves. 
 
 There may be, no doubt, what passes for real peni- 
 
42 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 tence, and a real joy in Christ, but which, in fact, is 
 wholly a delusion. "What seems to be a godly sorrow 
 for sin, may be nothing more than remorse ; and what 
 seems to be peace and joy in believing, nothing more 
 than the selfish exultation of the soul in its imagined 
 deliverance from the wrath to come. The peril at this 
 point is prodigious, having its root and nourishment in 
 our sensitive nature, so eager and clamorous for peace 
 and safety, so open to torture from the apprehension of 
 coming evil. A peril enhanced, too, it may be, by the 
 very endeavors which are made by preachers to arrest 
 the attention of the careless, and persuade them to seek 
 in season for the way of life. If selfishness be the 
 very essence of sin, then there is a kind of inevitable 
 contradiction between saving the soul, and seeking to 
 save it. Only he that loses his life, ever finds it. Only 
 that sorrow for sin is genuine, which rises above our- 
 selves, and is measured by that infinite majesty, against 
 which the sin was committed. A willingness to be 
 damned, as the only sufficient test of our fitness to be 
 saved, is, indeed, a monstrous heresy, which I cannot 
 think of endorsing ; and yet it points towards one of 
 the profoundest and most precious of Christian truths. 
 It points us away from ourselves to God, and summons 
 us to sink all our ovm little personal solicitudes, whether 
 for time or eternity, in the bottomless depth of an awful 
 reverence and love for His authority and honor. And 
 those who know nothing of this experience, who are con- 
 scious only of being anxious to be saved, may be very sure 
 that they are still in bondage to evil ; the seeming repent- 
 ance being only a fear of penalty, the seeming delight in 
 Christ, only gratitude in advance for expected benefits. 
 
RELIGION, THE DOING OF GOD'S WILL 4.3 
 
 But GTen the truly regenerate are not wholly free 
 from peril in this matter. There are different types of 
 piety, of different degrees of purity. What is not a 
 delusion, but a reality, may yet be vitiated. The self- 
 ish element may intrude and poison it. Eeligion may 
 come to be looked upon too much as a round or series 
 of emotions, and the proof of its presence sought for, 
 too exclusively, in the vividness and vigor of these emo- 
 tions. The soul, instead of going out of itself after 
 Christ, looking away to His cross and upwards to His 
 crown, searches within itself for the warrant of its 
 hopes. The very phrase so current amongst us, " an 
 experience of religion," indicates this error. The work 
 of grace, which, as it comes from God, should go out 
 after Him, throbbing with a divine pulse, sinks down and 
 terminates too mnch within us. We make it a thing 
 of feeling, which, from its very nature, may be delu- 
 sive ; or, if genuine, comparatively meagre and fruit- 
 less. There transpires within us an experience, which 
 is named repentance, another, which goes by the name 
 of faith, another, which is known as hope, while over 
 all there pkys the wing of a lightsome joy. And if 
 these experiences can only be brought to pass in their 
 proper order and intensity, the sonl is tempted to reckon 
 itself in a thriving state. The first beginning of these 
 experiences is hailed as the birth of grace, and every 
 subsequent repetition of them, with sensibly freshened 
 fervor, a reviving of God's work. Thus religion, which 
 should be a solid structure to the praise of Divine grace, 
 becomes an unsubstantial thing of inward moods, afloat 
 upon the changeful tide within us, uplifted or depressed 
 as our feelings rise or ebb. 
 
44 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 In our own country the danger of mistake in this 
 direction is great. With all our constitutional shrewd- 
 ness of intellect, and homely, practical common sense, 
 we are yet an excitable people. Our keen, stimulating 
 climate, our vast continent, provoking to boundless en- 
 terprise, the perpetual fluctuations of our social life, the 
 very constitution of our government, involving such 
 frequent appeals to the masses, all conspire to give us a 
 character not unlike that of the old Athenian Democ- 
 racy, as it was in the day when Paul addressed it on 
 the Acropolis. We are also a religious people. The 
 infidelity of France was offered us, but refused ; as 
 we shall also refuse the infidelity now offered us by 
 Germany. That we are Protestant, as well as religious, 
 is evinced by the multitude of sects amongst us, more 
 than fifty in all. And, above all, this has been pre- 
 eminently the land of revivals ; partly the product, and 
 partly the cause, of what we are. These revivals have 
 been the wonder of Em-ope ; glorious works of Divine 
 grace, as cannot be doubted, and yet encouraging a type 
 of piety, which has its defects and its perils. The dan- 
 ger has been, and is, that our religious life may be dis- 
 proportionately emotional, running up into fever heats, 
 only to run down into ague chills. 
 
 This piety of moods and feelings, which goes by 
 spasms, and not by the even pulses of a robust life, 
 is not the sort of piety we need, my hearers. It dis- 
 honors our Master, who has something larger to do 
 for us than simply to make us happy in our relig- 
 ion. It wrongs our own souls, which ought to be look- 
 ing higher than their own enjoyment. It defrauds a 
 world burdened with woes and perishing for lack of 
 
BELIOION, THE DOING OF GOD'S WILL 45 
 
 vision, which asks something more of us than prayers 
 and psalms. 
 
 III. Finally, let us be moved to make our religion a 
 matter of the life ; finding the test and measure of our 
 discipleship, neither in what we believe, nor in what 
 we feel, but in what we are, as announcing itself in 
 what we do. 
 
 Not that we counsel the disparagement of Christian 
 doctrine. We do not forget that it is through the truth, 
 though not by it, that men are to be sanctified and 
 saved. Christianity is, and must be, doctrine, or it can- 
 not be at all. There must be religious opinions, more 
 or less clearly defined, conditioning the religious life ; 
 and the more clearly defined, the better. There must 
 be an opinion about the native character of man ; an 
 opinion about the person and work of Christ ; an opin- 
 ion about the ground and mode, of our acceptance with 
 God. And the nearer we come to the teachings of 
 Scriptm-e, as interpreted by the Christian consciousness 
 of the successive generations of believers ; the nearer we 
 come to those grand settlements of doctrine effected by 
 the great expounders of doctrine, as Athanasius, Au- 
 gustine, Luther, Calvin, and Edwards, the nearer we 
 shall come to the hidings of Christian power. 
 
 Neither would we disparage religious feeling. The 
 new life has its beginning in feeling ; while to be past 
 feeling is the surest mark of reprobation. It is impos- 
 sible for a man to be convinced of sin by the Spirit of 
 God without being profoundly agitated. An accusing 
 conscience lashes the soul as a tempest lashes the ocean. 
 And equally impossible is it, to find relief in believing, 
 
46 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 without a fervid gust of triumphant and grateful emo- 
 tion. A religion wholly without excitement would be 
 a body without a pulse, a sea without tides or winds, a 
 morning without sunlight and the songs of birds. 
 
 But our text, while it slurs neither doctrine nor feeling, 
 points us beyond them to the life. Not every one that 
 saith unto Christ, Lord ; not even every one that saith 
 unto Him, Lord, Lord ; but only he that serves Him, is 
 His disciple indeed. Not belief, not emotion, but obe- 
 dience, is the test. Mere belief would make religion a 
 mere theology. Mere emotion would make it a mere 
 excitement. While the true, Divine idea of it, is a life, 
 begotten of grace in the depths of the human soul, sub- 
 duing to Christ all the powers of the soul, and incar- 
 nating itself in a patient, steady, sturdy service. In 
 short, it is the doing of the will of the Father, which 
 entitles us to a solid assurance of our redemption by the 
 Son. Doing this will, we say; not preaching it, as 
 something which ought to be done ; not indolently sigh- 
 ing to do it, and then lamenting that we do it not ; but 
 the thing itself, iu actual achievement, from day to day, 
 from month to month, from year to year. Thus relig- 
 ion rises on us in its own imperial majesty. It is no 
 mere delight of the understanding in the doctrines of 
 our faith ; no mere excitement of the sensibilities, now 
 harrowed by fear, and now jubilant in hope ; but a war- 
 fare and a work, a warfare against sin, and a work for 
 God. And so our thoughts, our cares, our aims, get 
 shifted away from ourselves to a worthier centre. We 
 look not within ourselves, but above us, for the guiding 
 word ; while the roots of our Christian hope are nour- 
 ished more by our duties than our joys. Under every 
 
BBLIGION, THE DOING OF GOB'S WILL 47 
 
 burden of service, in every weariness of marching, in 
 every peril of battle, as shouted the old Crusaders, so 
 shout we, " It is the will of God." 
 
 What, then, is God's will ? So far as we ourselves are 
 concerned, this is the will of God, says an Apostle, even 
 our sanctiiication.' That we advance in holiness, sub- 
 duing our sins, that we grow every day more pure, 
 more true, more fruitful, more hke Christ, our pattern, 
 this is the will of God concerning us. It is the making 
 our religion not an entertainment, but a service. We 
 are to set before us the perfect standard, and then 
 struggle to shape our lives to it. Personal sanctity 
 must be made a business pf . Those saints of the Mid- 
 dle Ages, like Tauler and A'Kempis, who wrestled so 
 hard for holiness, slaying so sternly their bosom sins, 
 and looking so meekly, yet so fixedly, to Christ, may 
 well be invoked as the rebukers of our sloth. It is at 
 just this point that the piety of our day is the most 
 sadly defective. It is not sufiiciently inflamed with a 
 desire after sanctity. It is self-indulgent, where it 
 ought to be self-denying; tolerant of impurities and 
 infirmities, of which it ought to be utterly intolerant ; 
 cold and slack, where it ought to be warm and diligent ; 
 asleep over faults of character, and in the presence of 
 spiritual dangers, which ought to awaken a godly jealousy 
 and a godly fear. It is true, we are saved by hope ; 
 and yet it is equally true, that he who hath this hope 
 in him, should purify himself, as Christ is pure. In a 
 word, it is character that is required of us ; laid, indeed, 
 in grace, and imperfect, at the best, needing to shelter 
 itself behind the perfect righteousness of Christ, and 
 ' 1 Thesa. iv. 3. 
 
48 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 yet a piece of solid moral masonry, to be carried on, 
 and carried up, by a life-long toil. And this, too, not 
 for our own sake, but for Christ's sake, and because 
 God so wills it. Our own spiritual comfort, the sure 
 fi-uit of a careful walk with God, though an incident, 
 is not to be the end, of our endeavors ; but all we do, 
 is to be out of simple loyalty to redeeming lore. Mere 
 obedience to conscience, is but a Pagan virtue, which, 
 in the highest sphere, is not a virtue at all. Yirtue, for 
 us, is obedience to God in Christ. Painstaking, of 
 course, it will be, that there may be no blot upon the 
 life; self-denying, as against our indolence, our ap- 
 petites, and our passions ; asking only for duty, though 
 we knew it were asking for martyi'dom ; and all for 
 Christ. Such is the will of God concerning us; and 
 only he who does it, should reckon himself a child of 
 God. 
 
 But besides this resolute endeavor after personal 
 sanctity, we have duties also towards our Christian 
 brethren. The Fellowship of the Saints, the Church 
 Catholic on earth, under whatever names or forms, as 
 widely reaching as Christendom itself, these are the 
 only permitted bounda.ries of our love. Wheresoever 
 Christ has gone with His quickening grace, there must 
 we also follow with the mantle of Christian charity. 
 They who love a common Lord, must love each other. 
 The essential oneness of the Church is now no longer 
 visible. The outward communion is broken. First, 
 the Orient and the Occident fell apart, eight hundred 
 years ago. Three hundred years ago, the Occident was 
 divided. And since then the sects have multiplied, till 
 we are almost ashamed to number them. These sects 
 
BELIOION, TEE DOING OF GOD'B WILL 49 
 
 proclaim, indeed, not the decay, but the vitality and 
 the growth of our Lord's Kingdom ; and yet its ripest 
 life is in that future, which shall restore the seamless 
 garment. Meanwhile, we have only to tax our charity 
 the more, and give it an impulse, which shall foi'ce it 
 over the dividing lines. And yet each one of us must 
 be loyal to his own communion, knitting himself the 
 closest with those, to whom he stands the nearest. The 
 local Church, with which we may happen to be con- 
 nected, has special claims upon us. We owe it a heavy 
 debt of service ; not on the Sabbath only, when we as- 
 semble for public worship and instruction, but in all 
 its humbler gatherings for prayer and praise, and in all 
 the channels of its life. 
 
 Nor is this all. The will of God concerning us has 
 a wider sweep even than the Church ; it embraces the 
 world. This world lieth in wickedness ; only one-third 
 of it even nominally Christian, all the rest of it Hea- 
 then, Jewish, Mohammedan, in need of Chiist, and per- 
 ishing because it knows Him not. There is more 
 between us and it, than the tie of a common human 
 brotherhood. This scene of moral ruin is the inher- 
 itance of our Lord, made over to Him in the covenant 
 of redemption. For this world He died, making an 
 atonement sufficient for all its sin ; and over it He 
 bends in mercy from His throne of grace, entreating 
 its return to God. This weaves for us a new bond of 
 relationship, firmer and more sacred than that of a 
 common descent from Adam. The ministry of recon- 
 ciliation, commenced by our Lord Himself, is now com- 
 mitted to His followers. They are now His ambas- 
 sadors, as Ho, In His ministry, was the ambassador of 
 
50 ETEBNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 God the Father. There is, indeed, a special ministry 
 of the word, beginning with the Apostles, descending 
 from them to us who are now preachers of righteous- 
 ness, and destined to endure to the end of time. But 
 there is also a wider ministry of the universal brother- 
 hood of believers. Mere discipleship is also, in some 
 sort, an Apostleship. We are all of us ambassadors of 
 Christ. Just as soon as we are brought, by the grace 
 of God, to a saving knowledge of the Gospel, we are 
 called to be dispensers of it to others ; taking first those 
 who are nearest to us, but pausing not till we have 
 touched the farthest boundaries of the globe. The 
 Mediaeval piety, so admirable in some respects, was de- 
 fective in this, that it did no more for a dying world. 
 The reformers were hindered, by the abundance and 
 urgency of their work at home, from undertaking any 
 service upon heathen shores. Eut an ardent missionary 
 zeal, the harbinger, as we trust, of the Millennium, is 
 now kindling in the bosom of the Church. And the 
 time in near at hand, when not a soul, that rejoices in 
 a Christian hope, will be excused, or will wish to be 
 excused, from laboring for other souls. There is enough 
 for us all to do. Even in these Christian cities, there 
 is a frightful waste of heathenism, weltering at our very 
 feet. We mast subdue it to the Cross of Christ. Over 
 the seas are millions of heathens, darkening the conti- 
 nents. To them also must we send the light of life. 
 Such is the commandment of our Lord. Such is the 
 service laid upon us, to be the test and measure of our 
 faith. 
 
 Such, my hearers, is our blessed Lord's owii def- 
 inition of true discipleship. Our religion must be 
 
RELIGION, THE DOING OF GOD'S WILL 51 
 
 more to us than a mere opinion, more than a mere ex- 
 citement of feeling ; it must be resolute and manly ser- 
 vice. Our whole life, from its inmost feelings to its 
 outmost ongoings, must be subdued to Christ. Person- 
 al sanctity, which dreads a blot upon itself, as it dreads 
 the anger of God ; love for the Chuj-ch of Christ, which 
 many waters of strife cannot quench, nor floods drown ; 
 with labors, wise, earnest, self-denying, and abundant, 
 for the souljB of perishing men ; all these must we lay 
 as a cheerful tribute at the feet of the King of kings. 
 
IV 
 THE SECRET THINGS OF GOD 
 
THE SECRET THINGS OF GOD 
 
 • TJie secret tilings belong unto the Lord our God : but those ihtnga 
 which are revealed belong unto us, and to our children forever, that 
 vie may do all the words of this law." — Dbuteeonomt xxix. 29. 
 
 In going througti the Sinaitic Peninsula, I saw noth- 
 ing more touching than the burial-places of the poor 
 Bedouia. Enclosed by no wall, shaded by no tree, the 
 graves are dug out of the coarse gravel, hardly furrow- 
 ing the desert, marked only by small, rude stones, and 
 left to be guarded and watched only by the mountains 
 and the stars. 
 
 Such had been the burial of more than two millions 
 of Hebrews, who went up out of Egypt under the 
 leadership of Moses. Besides himself, only Caleb and 
 Joshua survived. In forty years a whole nation had 
 gone and come. Instead of the parents were the chil- 
 dren ; children born in the desert. 
 
 And now the new nation are encamped amongst the 
 mountains of Moab, getting ready to cross the Jordan, 
 and conquer their promised inheritance. Moses will 
 not go with them. He and they are about to part com- 
 pany forever. He had been Lawgiver and Prophet. 
 And in this the last month of his eventful life the 
 spirit of both these offices is remarkably strong 
 upon him. Sinai burns and thunders again in his 
 
 (55) 
 
56 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 stately periods, as he repeats the Divine Command- 
 ments ; and his eye kindles with the glowing visions oi 
 prophecy. With tremendous power he rallies these 
 children of the desert to their duty, painting on the 
 sky before them, in gigantic outline, the mercies and 
 judgments that are to come; — mercies, if they are 
 loyal J judgments, if they rebel. 
 
 And yet there is great reserve. The curtain that 
 hides the future is not withdrawn, but only lifted for a 
 moment at the comer. Precisely what is coming, the 
 people are not to know. It is enough for them that 
 they know their duty. " The secret things belong unto 
 the Lord our God : but those things which are revealed 
 belong unto us, and to our children forever, that we 
 may do all the words of this law." 
 
 The maxim thus propounded by the great Hebrew 
 Lawgiver was not exclusively for the Hebrew people. 
 It is good for all nations, for all ages, and covers the 
 entire domain of faith. It concerns the whole economy 
 of revelation. Of everything religions, every fact, 
 every doctrine, every duty, is it true that God keeps 
 back a part of His counsel and purpose, revealing so 
 much, and only so much as may be needful in order to 
 obedience. To illustrate and enforce this maxim, by 
 pointing out some of the more obvious and vital of its 
 applications and uses, is now my purpose. 
 
 I. Let us begin with God Himself. 
 
 The doctrine of the Divine existence, if put to pop- 
 ular vote the world over, would be pronounced im- 
 pregnable. Plato was right in calling atheism a disease. 
 The human intellect in its normal, healthy action holds 
 
TEE SECRET TEINGS OE QOD 57 
 
 it for certain, that there is a Great Being over us, in- 
 visible, infinite, ineffable, bnt of real, solid personality, 
 who made and governs us, who made and governs all 
 things. Napoleon, on the deck of his frigate, one night 
 in the Mediterranean, sailing homewards from Egypt, 
 uttered only the general sentiment of humanity, when 
 he put to shame the atheism of his suite of officers by 
 tossing his hand towards the stars, demanding to know, 
 •' "Who made all those ? " 
 
 And yet when we come to ask for an a priori dem- 
 onstration, when we would make it certain to our- 
 selves, that there is a personal God, in the same sense 
 and to the same degree that we are certain of some 
 mathematical propositions, our log-ic is not triumphant. 
 Anselm, who first tried his hand at this high argument, 
 was confronted by Gaunilo, as Descartes and Leibnitz 
 have more recently been confronted by Kant, who pro- 
 nounces the splendid attempt an utter failure. Philos- 
 ophy is thus divided against herself in this matter, 
 while the popular judgment is wholly bewildered and 
 baffled by a process of argumentation so refined and 
 subtle. From which it appears that God has somehow 
 in a measure withdrawn and wrapt Himself away from 
 the scrutiny of His finite creatures. No one of our 
 five senses gives any report of Him ; as we read that 
 " no man hath seen God at any time." The cunning 
 analysis of chemistry cannot touch Him. Neither tel- 
 escope, searching amongst the stars, nor microscope, 
 searching amongst the atoms, ever overtakes Him. 
 Everywhere we encounter the shining footprints, but 
 nowhere do we catch a glimpse of the glowing feet. 
 The lifted heel flies on before us evermore. Strange 
 
58 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 indeed, when we come to reflect upon it, that the 
 meanest of all the works of God are allowed to impress 
 and register themselves upon us, thronging the several 
 avenues of sense, while God Himself, the grandest 
 reality of all, and the root and support of all, stands 
 veiled and silent. Stranger still, that this high faculty 
 of abstract thought, this wonderful power of specula- 
 tion which grasps and subdues the universe beneath its 
 categories, should do no more for us in this problem of 
 the Divine existence. But so it is. The absolute and 
 eternal I Am will not surrender Himself to our search- 
 ing. It is the choice of God to draw back, as it were, 
 from His earthly creatures, and stay concealed. 
 
 To the question, therefore, whether atheism be pos- 
 sible 1 we must answer that no doubt it is. We have 
 only to require some sensible assurance, or some incon- 
 testable demonstration of the Divine existence, and 
 our faith inevitably dies. God will take His leave of 
 us. We shall soon see no footprint, and hear no rus- 
 tling of Him. 
 
 That God might have made atheism absolutely im- 
 possible by an instant impression of Himself upon our 
 minds, rendering Himself every whit as palpable to 
 the spiritual vision as material objects are to the bodily 
 vision, cannot be questioned. The human soul might 
 have been so fashioned as to see God, just as our eye- 
 balls see the sun in the fii-mament. Our intuitions, 
 about which philosophy is still in doubt whether they 
 give us not the absolute only, but also and equally the 
 personality of the absolute, might surely have been so 
 vivid and so peremptory as to leave no room for doubt. 
 But such is not the established economy of things. Not 
 
TBE SEOSET THINGS OP GOD 5'.; 
 
 aa tlie eagle gazes at the sun, gaze we on God. We are 
 required rather to turn our backs upon this intolerable 
 light, see it by reflection, and judge of all other objects, 
 in their Divine relations, by the shadows which they 
 cast. The three sources of proof on which mainly we 
 rely to establish, for popular effect, the Divine exist- 
 ence and perfections are, accordingly, the material 
 world around us, the moral world within us, and the 
 general consent of men. Insufficient, doubtless, if 
 counsel be taken of mental arrogance, and absolute 
 scientific assurance be asked for; but altogether suf- 
 ficient, if knowledge be pursued with reverent docility 
 as the condition and gateway to holiness. Dark is the 
 jiath of mere philosophic speculation, which the vul- 
 ture's eye hath not seen ; while the path of godly fear 
 and holy obedience is flooded with heavenly light. Not 
 amidst the noisy disputings of the academy, but in the 
 sacred stillness of the temple, is God's voice heard. 
 So that the process of proof itself becomes a discipline. 
 We may be atheists if we will. Near as God is to 
 every one of us, and accessible in prayer. He will not 
 force Himself upon our reluctant convictions, and will 
 not answer us unless we speak to Him in childlike sim- 
 plicity. 
 
 So also in regard to the attributes of God. Various 
 classifications of these attributes have been suggested 
 by our scientific theologians, such, as active and passive, 
 negative and positive, natural and moral, essential and 
 personal, and it may seem, perhaps, as though we had 
 gone a great way in our knowledge of the Infinite. 
 But our ambitious terminology deceives us, our state- 
 ments are all inadequate, and we have scarcely mastered 
 
60 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 the alphabet of this august knowledge. What we call 
 omnipotence, or omniscience, is very far from being 
 comprehended by us. The difference between possess- 
 ing some power and all power, between knowing some 
 things and all things, is simply the difference between 
 finite and infinite, for which we have found no measure 
 and no expression. Still more perplexing are the so- 
 called moral attributes of God, His justice, His benev- 
 olence and the like, between which and the poor reflec- 
 tions of them in our own disordered nature there is 
 the further and yet more fatal difference that is bom 
 of sin. 
 
 When, therefore, we advance to that unique and 
 crowning revelation which God has made of Himself as 
 Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, we need not stumble at 
 it. There is, at any rate, no antecedent improbability 
 to be vanquished. K the Unity of God be an affirma- 
 tion of reason, supported equally by the constitution of 
 nature and the courses of providence, there are also 
 suggestions and echoes of the Trinity both around us 
 and within us. In nature there are forms, forces, and 
 processes strangely trinal, while man himself is best 
 defined as body, soul, and spirit ; and the simple act 
 of self-consciousness, in its last analysis, is found to be 
 a trinal act. And yet the Trinity, though agreeable 
 to reason when once revealed, is no discovery of reason. 
 Nor is it so revealed as a proud philosophy would have 
 liked to have it. The Bible, on this subject as on eveiy 
 other, utterly ignores the scientific method. Even the 
 Divine Unity, which was the great trust, the gi'eat con- 
 flict, and the great trophy of Judaism, is nowhere pre- 
 sented in a scholastic form, but always practically, in 
 
THE SECRET THINGS OP GOB 61 
 
 Its antagonism to the heathen idolatries. Insist, if you 
 will, that the Trinity is not unfolded in the Scriptures 
 as we unfold it in our creeds. What then ? If it is 
 therefore to be expelled from our symbols, many other 
 doctrines must go out with it. Let us rather recognize 
 the vital principle, that God in no case undertakes to 
 reveal Himself in a way to satisfy the subtle exactions 
 of philosophy. It is no metaphysical problem that He 
 comes down to solve. Not as challenged by science, 
 does He feel called upon to open the interior of His 
 being. The mode of the Divine existence, whether as 
 one, or three, might have been withheld as an eternal 
 secret. But if ever revealed, we may be sure it has a 
 practical side to it, and will be revealed only upon that 
 side. God, we may well be confident, will tell us noth- 
 ing about Himself, but what is available to make us 
 better and to save our souls ; to make us saints rather 
 than to make us sages. Such, to the very letter, is the 
 Trinity of the Scriptures ; popular rather than scien- 
 tific, practical rather than speculative, instrumental 
 rather than absolute, coupled always with redemption. 
 While therefore we look for no such proof-texts as our 
 scientific theologians would have dictated, we are not 
 to let our faith be perplexed or staggered by the lack 
 of them. Such proof -texts are not needed ; they would 
 be suspicious rather. It is enough for us on the thresh- 
 old of the Church to have been baptized into the Tri- 
 une l^ame, to accept in Christ the Eternal Word made 
 flesh, and look for sanctification to the strivings of the 
 Holy Spirit. These are the necessary elements of our 
 spiritual life ; these, and these only, the revelations of 
 God concerning Himself. The depths of the Divine 
 
62 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 nature we have no need to fathom, if we might. The 
 stupendous mysteries of the Triune existence are not 
 submitted to our cmiosity. They are among the secret 
 things of God. But we are summoned to pay our rever- 
 ence to a Divine Christ as our only sulHcient Redeem- 
 er, and to find the whole might and majesty of the 
 Eternal Godhead, in the sanctifying energies of the 
 Spirit. So much has God revealed, and we must be 
 content. An imperfect, hesitating faith will cripple 
 us. We need not revere Athanasius as a man inspired, 
 but the elements, out of which that finest brain of the 
 fourth century elaborated the Nicene Creed, concern 
 the deepest hidings of our life. Only these elements 
 can give us hope and strength. They are the things 
 revealed to make us wise unto life eternal. 
 
 II. Let us turn now in the second place to take note 
 of man. 
 
 We pass here at one bound from the infinite to the 
 finite. Philosophy asks for some bridge between them ; 
 but thus far always in vain. That there should be Di- 
 vine Sovereignty is plain enough ; and equally plain is 
 it, that there should be human freedom. But the two 
 united are an enigma. That God should hold every- 
 thing within the grasp of His sublime designs, and let 
 His eternal decrees superintend and shape all issues, is 
 easily conceived of. Or that this sense of freedom 
 within us is valid, and our deeds really our own, is also 
 easily believed. Each of these convictions rests upon 
 its own proper and sufficient basis. We cannot satisfy 
 our intellects with any definition of God which fails to 
 clothe Him with absolute sovereignty. Nor can we 
 
THE SEOBET THINQS Off GOD 63 
 
 satisfy our consciences but by admitting ourselves to be 
 responsible, in the highest and fullest sense, for all we 
 have done, and for all we are. But to let the Divine 
 decrees stretch everywhere and hold all, embracing 
 even these finite activities and this finite freedom as a 
 part of their stupendous machinery, is more than we 
 can master. 
 
 Again, the one fact which darkens all history, and 
 perplexes all speculation, is the monstrous abuse of 
 freedom in the apostasy of man. Dualism solves the 
 problem at once by limiting the omnipotence of God. 
 Pantheism solves the problem by eclipsing the holiness 
 of God. The former declares that God could not, the 
 latter declares He would not prevent the entrance of 
 moral evil. And yet there stands towering before us 
 this huge indisputable fact of sin. God is not de- 
 throned, nor His sceptre shortened, nor His holiness 
 eclipsed, and yet here is moral evil, which He must 
 surely abhor, and has as surely permitted. The pres- 
 ence of sin is not to be denied. It has entered into all 
 history, has plagued all men in all relations. The sages 
 have all recognized it. Common men all feel it. And 
 philosophy is dumb before it. 
 
 What now saith the Scripture ? If there be no re- 
 lief at all from the torture of this problem, no wrong 
 is done us; for elsewhere certainly all is darkness. 
 How then stands this matter of the Divine decrees ? 
 Obviously, they are everywhere calmly recognized, even 
 in the face of all the moral derangements and discords 
 of the universe. Their iron strength stifEens every 
 part of the edifice. God sees the end from the begia- 
 ning ; else He were not omniscient. He follows a plan 
 
64 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 in all His working ; else He were not a wise architect. 
 Nor is there any to stay His hand. In the armies of 
 Heaven, and amongst the inhabitants of the earth, He 
 doeth all His pleasure ; else He were seated on a pre- 
 carious throne. Sin is the abominable thing which His 
 soul hates. He cannot therefore have begotten it ; and 
 yet He hath foreordained whatsoever cometh to pass. 
 The human will was endowed with freedom, but it was 
 the freedom of a finite creature, finding its circuits in 
 the atmosphere of a Divine economy. Every man goes 
 as it is written of him in the purposes of God. But 
 the grand circumstance about these purposes is, that 
 they are not divulged in advance of their accomplish- 
 ment. Even prophecy is couched in such terms as to 
 be fully intelligible only in the light of its own fulfil- 
 ment. The pressure of the Bible is alwaj's not so 
 much upon the intellect as the wUl. Human freedom 
 is not so much asserted as assumed. The idea of prov- 
 ing it seems never to have entered the mind of any 
 inspired writer. Nor is any attempt ever made to 
 reconcile the two activities of God and man. Had 
 such a reconciliation been necessary, God would cer- 
 tainly have suggested it. But now it lies back in the 
 darkness, and we must consent to leave it there. It is 
 one of the secret things belonging unto the Lord our 
 God. The things revealed are the facts themselves 
 unreconciled; on the one side, a Divine eflBciency, 
 which seems to clasp the universe as with iron arms, on 
 the other side, a human freedom which seems to threaten 
 riot and anarchy. These two elements we must accept, 
 and hold them together as we can ; denying neither, 
 and abating the force of neither ; holding to the Divine 
 
THE SECMET TMIJSfGS OF GOO 65 
 
 efficiency without fiiuching, making our faith stout and 
 masculine with it, having no fear of being charged 
 with fatalism ; holding equally to human accoutttability, 
 making oui faith elastic and agile with it, having no 
 fear of being called Arminians. And as to the har- 
 mony between them, let us despair of finding it in this 
 world. Let us rather leave it, and leave it cheerfully, 
 till we stand on higher summits, in a clearer light. 
 For the present let us care only that God be honored, 
 and our own destiny happily accomplished. If God 
 only is great, man surely is responsible. Finite person- 
 ality in the face of such an Infinite may be a puzzle to 
 us, but still there remains the fact. Before us, on the 
 one hand, stands the solid buttress of God's sovereign- 
 ty, the deep foundations of it out of sight. Before us, 
 on the other hand, stands the solid buttress of human 
 freedom, its deep foundations also out of sight. While 
 upon and above them springs away the arch, whose 
 key-stone is above the clouds. 
 
 And then as to that other fact of sin, we must re- 
 spect the silence of the Scriptures. They do but report 
 the fact ; they nowhere undertake a solution of it In 
 the mind of God, the birth of moral evil no doubt lies 
 clear. It is no painful mystery, still less a disastrous 
 defeat, easting a shadow athwart His eternal blessed- 
 ness. The permission of it, whatever that permission 
 may have been, does not clash with His infinite holi- 
 ness and grace. But He reveals nothing of the matter. 
 Serious thinkers of all ages have encountered this prob- 
 lem of moral evil only to be bafiled by it. They have 
 reached no satisfactory solution of it. The only final 
 answer, in which the ojind can rest, is the answer oi 
 
66 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 faith, which confesses it does not Tcnow. The origin of 
 evil is one of those secret things which belong unto the 
 Lord our God. To stumble at it is simply preposter- 
 ous, since it is not a theory, but a fact. To make the 
 mystery of its origin, or the silent, swift contagion of 
 it, or the terrible power of it, an excuse for the con- 
 tinuance in the practice of it, is an insult to human 
 reason. The thing revealed is the terrible fact of sin 
 smiting all our hearts, and darkening all our lives. It 
 matters not how it got here ; here it is, a hateful tyran- 
 ny, a fatal malady, in us like a pulse, gnawing like a 
 poison, and we had as well deny our human brother- 
 hood as deny our guilt. 
 
 III. It remains for us to consider now, in the third 
 place, the new relation of grace which has been estab- 
 lished between God and man. 
 
 From sin we pass on to redemption as the great 
 radiant centi-e not less of all knowledge than of ail hope. 
 If the Scriptures reveal no speculative solution of the 
 mystery of evil, they do yet propound a practical solu- 
 tion of it in the proffered deliverance of men from its 
 power and curse. And yet this deliverance opens up 
 yet other mysteries, and at every point we come across 
 these secret things of God, which belong unto Him and 
 not to us or our children. 
 
 Human philosophy in its pride and self-reliance 
 comes along discoursing of culture. It understands a 
 change of purpose accomplished by moral suasion. It 
 comprehends what is meant by a moral improvement 
 and progress, It believes in growing better. But it 
 has no conception of that radical transformation of 
 
TEE SECRET THINGS OF QOD 67 
 
 character by the Spirit of God, which is described as 
 the new birth, the passing from death unto life, Christ 
 in us the hope of glory. Speech of such things sounds 
 fanatical. "How ca/n a man be born when he is old?" 
 And the answer of revelation leaves every Nicodemus 
 just where it finds him. These things of the Spirit are 
 inexplicable to him, neither can he know them by any 
 exposition addressed only to his understanding. The 
 new birth is a stupendous mystery of life, which can be 
 known only by being experienced. It is a mystery in 
 advance of its accomplishment, demanding of us the 
 docility of children in submitting to the process di- 
 vinely ordained for us. It is a mystery even after its 
 accomplishment. For always will it be a matter of 
 grateful wonder to the Christian, how the Spirit of all 
 grace ever forced, and yet so gently, the fastenings of 
 his bosom, and wrought there so eflBciently and yet so 
 sweetly its saving work. Yerily the Lord was within 
 us, though we were but half awake to His glory. 
 While all along at every point there presses ever the old 
 perplexity, how it is that God can work within us both 
 to will and to do, and we all the while be working out 
 our own salvation. On the one hand, it is plain that 
 no new faculty is given. It is equally plain that there 
 has been something deeper than moral suasion. But 
 precisely what it is that has befallen us, we cannot say. 
 We can only say that whereas once we were blind, now 
 we see ; and we praise, not the Fool of Siloam, in which 
 we washed, but Jesus of Nazareth, who told us what 
 to do. 
 
 J!^ow, if the experience within us be such a mystery, 
 much more the Divine secret and basis of it. " If I 
 
08 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 have told yoa earthly things, and ye believe not, how 
 shall ye believe if I tell you of heavenly things ? " ' If 
 the renewed heart be such a marvel to us, much more 
 that great sacrifice which has paved its way. If Jesus 
 was only a man, we understand very well the whole mean- 
 ing of His death : it was only a martyrdom. But if He 
 was, as the Scriptures assure us, God manifest in the 
 flesh, the Eternal Word, the image of the invisible God, 
 then have we a heavenly mystery answering to the 
 earthly. Not that we can sound the hidden depths of 
 His august person, so running the line of boundary be- 
 tween His natures, as to dare to say that only the hu- 
 man nature sufiered for our sins ; still the mighty work 
 accomplished within us compels us to an exalted faith 
 in the mighty work accomplished for us in that tasting 
 of death for every man. As to an understanding of 
 that agony in the garden and upon the cross, as we 
 understand some human agony, we utterly despair of 
 it If we hesitate to call it Divine suffering, still less 
 dare we pronounce it only human. The piercing ac- 
 cents of that dying cry, the darkened heavens and the 
 shuddering earth, all move us to fall prostrate and adore. 
 Consider the revelations of Scripture in regard to the 
 future life. Definite and comforting beyond all the 
 guesses of unaided reason ; and yet, as compared with 
 what we sometimes pine to know, how meagre. Of 
 the disembodied state, into which we enter at death 
 and remain tUl the Eesurrection, almost nothing has 
 been revealed. Retribution, if not in its fullest meas- 
 ure, yet most surely in the beginning of it, appears to 
 come at once. For we read in the Epistle to the He- 
 
 ' John iii. 13. 
 
THE 8E0RET TMJNOS OF GOD 69 
 
 brews that it is appointed unto men once, and only 
 once, to die, but after this the judgment." We catch a 
 glimpse of Lazarus reclining at the banquet with Abra- 
 ham ; Paradise is promised to the penitent malefactor ; 
 the dying Stephen sees Christ standing to receive him ; 
 Paul expects to be with Christ. But where the dead 
 saints now are, how they live disembodied, and what 
 their relations may be to the kingdom of Christ in its 
 conflicts and triumphs, it is not gi^en us to know. Are 
 they far away on some peaceful shore awaiting the 
 morning of the Resurrection ? Or are they round 
 about us in the sky, a cloud of witnesses, filling the very 
 air we breathe, though we perceive it not, with the 
 music of their anthems and their prayers ? These are 
 questions not very distinctly answered for us in the 
 Scriptures. Nor yet do the Scriptures tell us much 
 about the Resurrection and what follows it. "We in- 
 quire with eagerness, " With what body do they come ? " 
 Revelation answers back, " It doth not yet appear what 
 we shall be." ' The Seer of Patmos has indeed dis- 
 closed the splendors of the New Jerusalem, opening its 
 pearly gates and marshalling its shining hosts ; but the 
 gorgeous imagery is a veil as well as a mirror of the 
 world to come. How much is merely costume, none 
 can tell. The locality of the ransomed and re-embodied 
 Church is still a question. That we shall be somewhere 
 with Christ, and, like Him, sinless, the moment we have 
 died, and then in the Resurrection that we shall be still 
 more like Him in our re-embodied state, carried up to 
 loftier heights of blessedness : this is nearly all we know 
 about the life that awaits us beyond the grave. 
 ' Heb. ix. 27. ' 1 John iii. 3. 
 
70 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 So also of the life that now is in its duties and ita 
 discipline. The great human duties are Prayer and 
 WorJe : Prayer for every needed blessing, and Work 
 to realize it ; Prayer, as though God must do the whole, 
 and Work, as though we must do it all ourselves. 
 These are the two poles of the great galvanic battery. 
 But who that waits to know the philosophy of answered 
 prayer will ever pray ? And who that waits to be sure 
 there shall be no mistake, will ever work ? The hand 
 that beckons us to glory waves at us out of impene- 
 trable clouds. We walk in a way that we know not. 
 We labor for om* Master, but never know beforehand 
 which shall prosper, whether this or that. We lay wise 
 plans, and they miscarry. We commit gross blunders, 
 and they are overruled for good. We run towards the 
 light, and it goes out in darkness. We sink shivering 
 into the darkness, and find it light. We pray for joys, 
 and they mildew into griefs. We accept the griefs, 
 and they blossom into joys. To-day the apple turns to 
 ashes, and to-morrow the ston.es to bread. We exult in 
 some prosperity, and get leanness with it. We mur- 
 mur at some adversity, and find it big with blessings. 
 We run towards open doors, and dash our heads against 
 a granite wall. We move against that wall at the call 
 of duty, and it opens to let us through. The lines of 
 our lives are all in God's hands. What shall befall us, 
 we cannot know. What is expedient, we cannot tell. 
 Only this we know, that God would shape us to Him- 
 self, whether it be by the discipline of joy, or the dis- 
 cipline of sorrow. To make us perfect as He is per- 
 fect, this is the choice of our Heavenly Father, this the 
 end of all His revelations ; while everything not help- 
 
THE SECRET THINGS OF GOD Yl 
 
 ful to this He hides away out of our sight. Yerily, 
 " the secret things belong unto the Lord our God : but 
 those things which are revealed, belong unto us and to 
 our children forever, that we may do all the words of 
 this law." Partial revelation, then, is the method, and 
 obedience the end. 
 
 In the practicable application and improvement of 
 our subject, it may be remarked : 
 
 1. First of all, we are taught a lesson of humility, 
 and that, too, at the very point where we most need it. 
 There is no pride on earth like the pride of intellect 
 and science. A modest confession of ignorance is the 
 ripest and last attainment of philosophy. But child- 
 like docility is of the very essence of religion, required 
 of us all at the very threshold of our Christian experi- 
 ence. And in order to this, no better discipline could 
 be imagined than the discipline to which we are actually 
 subjected under the existing economy of revelation. 
 The secret things do so vastly outnumber the things 
 which are revealed ! The greater portion of all our in- 
 quiries and all our reasonings must always have for their 
 issue : "Even so, Father : for so it seemed good in Thy 
 sight." ' 
 
 2. We may learn to distinguish the more vital articles 
 of our faith. Controversy is apt to rage the hottest 
 about the subordinate points. But the stress of revela- 
 tion is on the grand essentials. The very design of the 
 Book necessitates this feature. What the Bible is full- 
 set of is therefore of course most vital. If sin and the 
 woe it merits ; if redemption by the blood of Christ, 
 and sanetitication by the indwelling Spirit ; if the Ees- 
 
 ' Matt. xi. 26. 
 
72 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 urrection and the final Judgment ; if Heaven and Hell 
 are what throb and resound throughout the Sacred 
 Volume, then these are the doctrines of the standing 
 or falling Church, since they are the doctrines of a liv- 
 ing or dying soul. 
 
 3. And finally, our shortest way to the end of doubt 
 and controversy, is by the path of an humble obedience. 
 If a man be intellectually prurient and captious, he may 
 keep on disputing forever ; for religious truth, touch 
 what points of it you will, has always to do with the 
 being and government of God, and is of course illim- 
 itable in its reach. The Divine existence and decrees ; 
 sin and redemption ; the incarnation and atonement ; 
 salvation by grace, and assured perseverance in the Di- 
 vine life, are all of them above and beyond our science. 
 And if we insist upon a complete speculative solution 
 of them, we shall never be satisfied. As to these car- 
 dinal doctrines of our faith, we must make up our 
 minds in advance to have unrenewed man find fault 
 with them. And our aim must be, not to trim and 
 temper them, but to point and crowd them rather, with 
 all their rousing power, upon the heoHs of men. We 
 must take men in hand as rebels, and labor not so 
 much to rectify their opinions, as to have them recon- 
 ciled to God. 
 
 As for the orthodoxy of the Church, without despis- 
 ing or disparaging the oflBce of scientific theology, we 
 must yet trust more to grace than to logic in our en- 
 deavors to hold men to the profounder and sterner 
 teachings of the Bible. When we come to see our- 
 selves as we are, enslaved by sin, and in peril of perish- 
 ing forever, there is little danger but we sliall be ortho- 
 
THE SEORET THINGa OF GOD Y3 
 
 dox enough. We shall feel ourselves to be in need of 
 an eternal purpose of redemption, in need of an infinite 
 Saviour, in need of an almighty grace ; and this need 
 of an eternal purpose, this need of an infinite Saviour, 
 this need of an almighty Grace, shall be their trium- 
 phant demonstration. 
 
Y 
 FROM BLINDNESS TO VISION 
 
FEOM BLINDNESS TO VISION 
 
 "And Jeaus said. For judgment came I into this world, that they 
 who see not may see, and that they who see may become blind." — 
 John ix. 39. 
 
 Milton was forty-six years old when he became blind, 
 carrying with him into that blindness of twenty years, 
 endless galleries of remembered visions: vivid pictures 
 of land and sea and sky, of golden days and starry nights, 
 of storm and calm, of wife and children. But this poor 
 blind man of Jerusalem, in the ninth chapter of Jolm's 
 Gospel, was bom blind. All his life he had never once 
 seen his mother's face. 'Sovr all at once he sees his 
 mother's face, sees his father, whom very likely he less 
 cared to see, sees the neighbors who had been in the 
 habit of speaking kindly to him in the street, sees the 
 grand new Temple of Herod of which he had heard so 
 much, sees the slope of Olivet dotted over with trees, 
 sees the bright blue sky, sees the singing birds. Look 
 at him going about with a new kind of springy move- 
 ment, stopping every now and then to gaze, and to gaze 
 again. Ton and I will never know just how glad and 
 grateful that man was. Jesus had cured a great many 
 blind people in Galilee, in Judea, in Decapolis, people 
 that had become blind in that scorching climate ; but 
 never before had He cnred any one born blind. That 
 
 (77) 
 
78 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 was a very great miracle, from natural, born bliudness 
 to instant and perfect vision. But underneath it there 
 was another miracle, far greater, from spiritual blind- 
 ness to spiritual vision : of which I propose to speak 
 to-day. 
 
 I. The BUndness. 
 
 This imputation of blindness, implied in the lan- 
 guage of our text, was proudly enough resented by 
 some at least of the Pharisees who heard it. " Are 
 we blind also ? " Certainly they were. But how ? and 
 why ? Were they worse off than the average of man- 
 kind ? Or are we only all alike born blind ? Every 
 son of Adam, and every daughter of Adani, all the 
 way down, from first to last? Let none of us re- 
 sent this question to-day. Offended dignity looks al- 
 ways very foolish, confronting facts. What are the 
 facts? 
 
 In this conversation between Jesus and the Pharisees, 
 the conversation that followed the miracle, blindness is 
 of course a figure of speech : as when, on another oc- 
 casion, the Pharisees were called " blind leaders of the 
 blind." • 
 
 Paralysis as another figure, as when Jesus says, " No 
 man can come to Me except the Father that sent Me 
 draw him";' and Paul says, " To will is present with 
 me, but to do that which is good, is not." ' And death 
 is another figure of speech, still more sweeping: as 
 when Jesus said that the dead even then were hearing 
 the voice of the Son of God ; * and Paul reminded the 
 
 ' Matt. rv. 14. ' John yi 44. 
 
 Bom. Tii 18. * John v. 35. 
 
FBOM BLIM)NM8B TO TISIOM 79 
 
 Ephesians that once they " were dead in trespasses and 
 sins." ' Literal blindness, literal paralysis, litei-al death, 
 are not to be thought of for a moment ; nor any other 
 sort of blindness, or paralysis, or death, that cannot be 
 helped. 
 
 Now these three bold images of blindness, paralysis, 
 and death, are only so many instances and illustrations 
 of linguistic law. Human speech is figurative through- 
 out. In every language, terms now the most abstract, 
 may be traced back to a concrete, physical root. In 
 our own language, for example, right is simply straight- 
 ness ; wrong is crookedness ; spirit is breath ; eternity 
 is only time with its boundaries removed, behind and 
 before; sin is damage ; remorse is a gnawing ; holiness 
 is haleness, or soundness ; even God, though possibly 
 the Anglo-Saxon for good, is quite as likely to be only 
 the Sanskrit name for ruler. 
 
 Physical science has an immense advantage in this 
 physical origin of language, working always with its 
 own proper tools. And it goes hard always with meta- 
 physical science — mental, moral, or religious, working 
 with tools not properly, because not exclusively, its 
 own. Fall justice can never be done to spiritual facts, 
 of whatever kind. The facts are too fine, some of 
 them, or too lofty, or too profound. After awhile the 
 facts are obscured, dwarfed, impoverished. Human 
 language betrays its ignobleness of birth ; and great 
 truths are not safe in its keeping. It belittles and be- 
 trays them. 
 
 Undulation appears to be the law aU around . in the 
 light of suns ; in the lift of seas ; in the human heart- 
 ' Eph. ii, 1. 
 
80 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 throb ; in the historic eras. Spiritual life pre-eminently 
 comes and goes in great tidal waves. Grand ideas and 
 enthusiasms struggle for utterance. They are in the 
 air, and in the blood. Whole peoples are inspired and 
 transfigured; whole generations become heroic. At 
 fii-st nobody thinks, or seems to think, how utterly in- 
 adequate the utterance is. By and by, the inadequate 
 utterance begins to react. Experience sinks to the level 
 of its expression. Worship, that rolled along the aisles, 
 becomes empty reverberation among the arches. Be- 
 lief, ceasing to grow, shutsdtself up in articles. Heroes 
 are born no more ; nor saints ; nor sages. The Scribe 
 and the Pharisee have come. It is a poor, dry, Lard, 
 scholastic age. We are between the waves. Such is 
 Church History, over and over again. 
 
 The last great tidal surge was the Protestant Refor- 
 mation, lifting Europe grandly toward the stars ; lift- 
 ing also America, which was then in Europe. But how 
 soon this Keformation sank and swirled away into mere 
 dry dogma and a new tradition. And at length the 
 Sadducees have come. They were sure to come. They 
 are never far behind the Scribes and Pharisees. Doubt 
 is now the malaria, in the air again, and in the blood : 
 doubt concerning not merely here and there a religious 
 doctrine, which might have been articulated better, and 
 will be some day, but concerning the very root and sub- 
 stance of all religion — the personality of God, and the 
 immortality of Man. Are we, then, to have no re- 
 ligion any more ? But only hard, natural law, grinding 
 like a mill ? So the blind men say. 
 
 But sensible Christians have no reason to be alarmed 
 or discouraged. Our present civilization, dating from 
 
FROM BLINDNESS TO VISION 81 
 
 the inventions and discoveries of tbe fifteenth century, 
 had Protestant baptism, to be sure, but has been run- 
 ning wild since that. This civilization was, first of all, 
 distinctly commercial, then industrial, and, of course, 
 intensely realistic throughout. Its philosophy is for- 
 mulated at last, and now we understand the problem. 
 Our way is not backward, into Egypt, and the old tra- 
 ditions ; but onward to Sinai, with pillar of cloud and 
 fire. Christianity is safe enough, if only we have found 
 out what Christianity really is. But these Christian 
 sects, I should say, had better be letting one another 
 alone. "We are not fighting now for the Trinity, nor 
 for the Divine Decrees, nor for Final Perseverance, but 
 only for religion as our common human inheritance and 
 concern ; as England fought at Waterloo, not for her- 
 self only, but for Europe. To-day we are safe in ask- 
 ing for nothing but the solitary fact of self-impeach- 
 ment at the bar of Conscience. Concede us this, con- 
 fess this to ourselves, and if logic survives the malaria, 
 it will be plain enough that there must be a personal 
 God to take care of us. 
 
 We may, or we may not, have been immoral. That 
 depends very much upon our standard. Our scientific 
 friends must excuse the catechising. Definitions are 
 always in order, and they will please tell us what they 
 mean by morality ? Plato meant something very fine 
 by it. And morality ought now to mean, for one thing 
 at the lowest, that our finer rational nature has never 
 gone down in shame under the beastly tread of sensual 
 appetite and passion. Has it never? Let each man 
 answer for himself. Morality ought to mean, for an- 
 other thing, that never, in any relation, have we in any 
 
82 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 ■way or degree, wronged or injured any human being ; 
 that we have never taken the slightest advantage un- 
 fairly of anybody, in commercial competition, in social 
 rivalry, in politics ; that we have never overpraised an 
 ally, nor nnderpraised a rival. Have we never ? Let 
 each man answer this question also for himself. And 
 then again, morality ought to mean — morality of the 
 finer, Platonic sort, that we have not been conceited, 
 supercilious, haughty, scornful; nor self-willed and 
 self -asserting, right and left. How is that ? But omit- 
 ting all details, we have a tolerably distinct idea of 
 what it is to be really fine and chivalric in character, 
 every chamber open, every comer clean. Tell me 
 frankly, any man that hears me, have you had no 
 thought to-day, no thought these ten days back, of 
 which you are now ashamed ? No matter how it may be 
 with other people, worse or better than yourself. How 
 is it with you ? And no matter about the genesis, or 
 the antecedents of our present moral state. What is 
 that state ? Does it satisfy us ? Are we willing to have 
 it permanent ? "What have we to say about keeping 
 company with ourselves, as we now are, forever ? And 
 what have we to say about the company that possibly 
 may thrust itself upon us in some other world ? Not 
 the very vilest, who might keep far away ; but people 
 that we have wronged, or who thinli we have wronged 
 them; selfish, surly, overbearing people, whom we 
 thoroughly dislike ; mean, treacherous , people, whom 
 we utterly detest. Who knows what may be ? The 
 possibilities are torturing. 
 
 From such moral judgments and apprehensions, Kant 
 has reasoned to a moral Judge. Self-conscious personal- 
 
FBOM BLINDNEBB TO VISION 83 
 
 ity for ourselves, requires self-conscious personality also 
 for Him. It is, perhaps, a conclusion from a premiss ; 
 but it looks very much like an intuition, or an instinct. 
 And so God moves in, august, omniscient, almighty, 
 eternal, awfully holy, just, and good ; but with not the 
 slightest suggestion or hint of mercy. It is all work 
 and wages, law and retribution. Nothing is ever for- 
 gotten, nothing dies, nothing changes. And perhaps 
 there are no secrets any more ; every spirit, that cares 
 to do it, reading the very thoughts of every other. 
 What say we to such companionship, and such condi- 
 tions of existence, to-morrow and forever? Philos- 
 ophers are plenty — physical and metaphysical. Ask 
 them to show us the way out and up. They cannot. 
 They are blind. And so are we. 
 
 11. The Vision. 
 
 Ethical law is as blind as gravitation. Vision must 
 therefore be religious. Keligion implies revelation 
 Revelation implies personal concern of the Infinite for 
 the finite; paternal relationship, affection, and care; 
 the possibility of something better for us than we de- 
 serve. In this universe of law — universe not of light 
 only, but of lightning, is there any chance at all for a 
 man who feels the need of being treated a great deal 
 better, infinitely better, than he deserves to be ? "When 
 this burning question begins to be answered to any 
 purpose, our blind men begin to see. 
 
 Of the nine great historic religions, with which 
 Christianity is sometimes compared, excluding Confu- 
 cianism, which is not so much a religion as a morality. 
 
84 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 four are dead : The Egyptian, Greek, Eoman, and Scan- 
 dinavian. Of the two that ai'e related to Christianity 
 somewhat as parent and child, Judaism has been super- 
 seded by Christianity, and Mohammedanism has fiiiled 
 in its attempt to supersede the superseder. There re- 
 main only Brahmanism, Zoroastiianism, and Buddhism, 
 not one of which has ever dreamed of conquering the 
 Occident. Christianity is alone in its ambition, its pur- 
 pose, and its expectation, of universal dominion. It 
 any one really believes, or is really afraid, that Christi- 
 anity is now at last, in its turn, decadent, let him only 
 put his ear to the ground, and hear the tramp of the 
 legions. The skirmishes are frequently disastrous to 
 us, but the great battles all go one way. Mankind 
 must have a religion, and will have the best. 
 
 What is Christianity ? This question is put and 
 pressed to-day as never before. And sectarian answers 
 are behind the time. No Creed of Orient, or Occident, 
 ancient or modem, has spoken the final word. Scien- 
 tific theology has still its errand and its rights, though 
 the more we refine, the more we differ. The time wiU 
 come, when the more we differ, the better we shall be 
 agreed : differing in the smaller, agreeing in the larger, 
 things; far apart in the spreading branches, knit to- 
 gether in the sturdy trunk. For the rank and file of 
 the marching, fighting, conquering host, the oldest of 
 all Creeds is still the best; Apostolic in its elements 
 and spirit, though not in form : I believe in God the 
 Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth : and in 
 Jesus Christ His only Son our Lord ; who was con- 
 ceived by the Holy Ghost, Bom of the Virgin Mary ; 
 suffered under Pontius Pilate, was Crucified, Dead, and 
 
FROM BLIIWNBSS TO VISION 85 
 
 Buried : He descended into Hell, the third day He rose 
 again from the dead; He ascended into Heaven, and 
 sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty ; 
 from thence He shall come to judge the quick and the 
 dead. I believe in the Holy Ghost ; the Holy Catholic 
 Church; the Communion of Saints; the Forgiveness 
 of sins ; the Resurrection of the body ; and the Life 
 everlasting. Amen. With the Lord's Prayer, the 
 Ten Commandments, and the Apostolic Benediction, 
 this Creed of Creeds might well be made a part of 
 every Sunday Service. "Would it were also the only 
 doctrinal test of fitness for admission to any Church ; 
 that so at length, when Christendom is older, wiser, 
 and better, it may become the basis of intercommunion 
 among all the Churches, of every name. 
 
 In speculation, as I consider the deeper problems of 
 life and history, Christianity amazes, fascinates, and 
 satisfies me more and more. Its recognition of the an- 
 tiquity and power of evil, its revelation of atonement 
 within the bosom of the Godhead, its conquering love 
 and pity, its regenerating grace, inspiring the hope of a 
 golden age to come, compel me into wonder and wor- 
 ship. My whole rational nature blesses God for it as a 
 philosophy. Pillar of cloud by day, pillar of fire by 
 night, it guides me through the desert. But when I 
 would know more precisely and practically, just what 
 Christianity is in its last analysis, and where is the hid 
 ing of its wonderful power, I must forget my philos- 
 ophy, forget my theology, forget even the Apostles' 
 Creed, and make a careful study of what passed in Je- 
 rusalem between Jesus and the man born blind. 
 
 It does not appear that the man himself had asked 
 
86 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 to be cured of his blindness. Natural, bom blindness 
 was of course incurable, as they all supposed. The dis- 
 ciples of Jesus were simply inquiring who had sinned, 
 this man, or his parents, that he was thus bom blind. 
 The answer was far deeper than, perhaps, it seems. 
 For no particular sin of his or theirs had the blindness 
 come, but as a part of the Divine economy, including 
 evil, to conquer it : " that the works of God should be 
 made manifest in him." ' Good out of evU is better 
 than original good ; sight restored, better than sight in- 
 herited ; saints at last judging angels. " I am the light 
 of the world," ' said Jesus, with an accent which must 
 have thrilled the blind man through and through. 
 Then his eyes were anointed, on that memorable Sab- 
 bath Day, and he went to wash in Siloam, expecting to 
 be cured. It was faith, instantaneous and absolute. 
 And his eyes were opened. Then came the sharp col- 
 loquy between him and the Pharisees ; they denouncing 
 the Galilean as a Sabbath-breaker, he calling Him a 
 Prophet, So this cured blind man became a disciple 
 before he knew it, and then a confessor as soon as a 
 disciple ; for he was cast out of the Synagogue, the 
 first man in our Christian history that ever suft'ered for 
 his faith, the first of the confessors, as Stephen, some 
 seven years later, was the first of the martyrs, heading 
 the one procession, as Stephen headed the other. And 
 Jesus, who came afterwards in vision to the dying mar- 
 tyr, came now in person to the living confessor, " Je- 
 sus heard that they had cast him out; and finding him, 
 He said — " what ? The Catechism was shorter than 
 ours, question and answer : " Dost thou believe on the 
 
 ' John ix. 3. ' v. 5. 
 
FROM BLim)2irSS8 TO VISION 87 
 
 Son of God ? " " Who is He, Lord, that I may believe 
 on Him ? " " Thou hast both seen Him, and it is He 
 that speaketli with thee." " Lord, I believe." ' And 
 instantly he worshipped, accepting Divine guidance, 
 and submitting to Divine authority, in the person of the 
 Galilean Prophet. That was all : just two steps out of 
 darkness into light. The miracle accredited the Proph- 
 et; and the Prophet told the blind man who He was. 
 What followed? Belief, Worship, and Obedience. 
 The Creed short, but no end to the obedience. Prompt, 
 implicit obedience to orders, sealed orders, is what it 
 comes to at last. March, battle, bivouac : there is noth- 
 ing to choose. No mad Balaklava charge is ever or- 
 dered. But were it ordered, horse and rider would 
 obey alike : 
 
 " Not theirs to ask the reason why." 
 
 Christianity, thus practically apprehended, is the 
 simplest thing in the world. From our Shorter Cate- 
 chism, from our Nicene Creed, from the Apostles' 
 Creed, we have only to go back to Christ's own Creed. 
 Dost thou believe in the Son of God ? Yes ? or No ? 
 
 Whether Yes, or No, what then ? The answer is not 
 mine, but Christ's : For judgment came I unto this 
 world, that they who see not, may see ; and that they 
 who see, or think they see, may become blind. Blind- 
 ness and vision shall be reversed ; darkness and light ; 
 mountains and valleys. The humble shall be exalted, 
 the proud abased. The Publican shall have his prayer 
 answered quicker than an echo ; the prayer of the 
 Pharisee shall lose its way in the vacant air. 
 ' John ix, 35-37. 
 
88 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 Choose frr yourselves, my scientific friends. There 
 is only one thing for me to do. The Law is written 
 on my conscience in lines of fire. In the garish day, 
 the lines are dull. But in the twilight that follows the 
 garish day, as I sit musing alone, the lines redden, and 
 I am sad. I look out towards the stars, into those aw- 
 ful spaces, and there is no relief. That He who made 
 those stars and spaces, can do no wrong, gives me no 
 comfort, but only disturbs me the more. I am not in 
 harmony with the Maker of the stars and spaces. I 
 am not living up to my own ideal of character. Job's 
 question to Bildad is a question only in form : How 
 should man be just with God ! ' the thing is utterly 
 impossible. First of all, I must be forgiven ; I must 
 know that God utterly and squarely forgives, loves 
 and pities me. I must get back sore-footed, and sore- 
 heaited, into the old home, out of which I went as a 
 gay and foolish prodigal. And I must go back to the 
 old obedience and service. Who shows me the way ? 
 I cannot see. I only grope and stagger. But a voice 
 I hear, such as was never heard before, such as shall 
 never be heard again : " Follow Me. Do just what I 
 tell you to do, to-day, to-morrow, and still to-morrow, 
 tDl your way-worn feet are planted on the crystal sea." 
 < Job ix. 3. 
 
VI 
 
 THE DISTINGUISHING FEATURES OF 
 CHRISTIANITY 
 
THE DISTrnGUISHING FEATUEES OF 
 CHEISTIANITT ' 
 
 " For lam not ashamed of the Oospd of Ohnit."—'RoiiA]!!B i. 16. 
 
 Whether religion in general has any rational ground 
 or not, it is certain that human society in the long run 
 is quite impossible without religion. Even if religion 
 were altogether a superstition, it is an inevitable and 
 an indispensable superstition. Mankind will have to 
 choose for themselves between the kinds of religion, 
 just as they will have to choose between the kinds of 
 civil government. And as human beings multiply, as 
 the continents and islands get crowded more and more, 
 this necessity will become only more and more pro- 
 nounced and imperative. I^othing is surer than a Day 
 of Judgment, somewhere and somewhen. 
 
 You have heard of the ten great religions of the 
 world. Of these only three have been expansive and 
 conquering religions. These three are Buddhism, Mo- 
 hammedanism, and Ohristianity. To these three the 
 struggle is narrowed down. And as between the three, 
 whether legitimately or illegitimately, the hard, historic 
 fact is, that Christianity is certainly carrying the day. 
 
 ' Delivered at the installation of Dr. Charles H. Parkhurst over 
 the Madison Square Presbyterian Church, New York, March 9, 
 1880. 
 
 (91) 
 
92 MTBRNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 But what IB Christianity ? What are its constituent 
 elements, its essential features, by which it may be dis- 
 tinguished from other religions ; and by which it must 
 be judged, getting its final verdict either to go or stay ? 
 
 I. I name as the first distinctive feature of Christian- 
 ity, The Inca/maUon of God in, Christ. 
 
 If history teaches anything, it teaches that human 
 nature cannot endure a bald spiritual theism. We 
 have two thoughts of God, equally normal and neces- 
 sary. We think of Him as an Infinite Spirit, wholly 
 separate from matter, and superior to it, without form, 
 or voice, or vicissitude, transcending the limitations of 
 space and time, wise, just, and awful in His holiness. 
 Hence the pure monotheism now recognized as lying in 
 the background of all the better mythologies. Hence, 
 in part, the swift victories of Mohammed, whose wild 
 voice out of the Arabian Peninsula went ringing over 
 three apostate continents : " Tour God is one God." 
 Hence the fresh unfaded crown of Plato, who looked 
 Greek Polytheism boldly in the face. 
 
 But human weakness, and, above all, human deprav- 
 ity necessitate another conception of God. Across this 
 tremendous gulf between the finite and the infinite, 
 between conscious guilt and the holiness that is clean- 
 er than sky, or light, or lightning, the voice of man is 
 afraid to speak. God Himself must come across this 
 gulf. Hence the theophanies, one and all. Patriarchal and 
 Jewish, in which the ineffable Jehovah now and then 
 takes form and voice. Hence, likewise, in sorry fash- 
 ion, the Heathen deification of nature and of man, 
 bridging, or trying to bridge, this same bottomless 
 
BiaTINOTIVE FEATURES OF OHRiaTIANITY 93 
 
 abyss. The idea of incarnation is thus proved to be 
 instinctive. And yet it was never completely realized. 
 The Patriarchal and Jewish theophanies were only 
 transient manifestations of God to men ; forms that 
 vanished quickly, and voices that were quickly hushed ; 
 a temporary expedient of rudimental and provisional 
 economies. They only abated a hunger, they could 
 nc' satisfy. But they sei-ved their purpose : they pre- 
 vented at once the worship of nature, and the multipli- 
 cation of inferior divinities. Outside of Judaism, how- 
 ever, the declension at last was monstrous. The Cre- 
 ator was lost sight of in His creation. The symbol 
 itself was worshipped. In the great hunger of the 
 human heart for an Incarnate Grod, polytheism became 
 the faith of the masses, and pantheism the speculation 
 of the schools. Human reason pronounces for unity in 
 its conception of God. But the human heart, yearning 
 for sympathy in its weakness, and stricken with terror 
 in its defilement, cries out passionately for an Incarnate 
 God. 
 
 Call it reason and conscience, or call it finite limitation 
 and guilty fear, this uniform, intense, importunate de- 
 mand for- an Incarnate God is answered now at last, 
 and answered only, by our God in Christ. The old 
 theophanies were as transient as the flush of morning 
 or the pomp and glory of sunset clouds. The heathen 
 incarnations were pantheistic. In heathen philosophies, 
 God entered humanity only as He entered the forms 
 and forces of nature. The stone, the tree, the fish, the 
 reptile, the bird, the beast, the man, fared just alike. 
 There was no proper personal union expressed in per- 
 sonal self -consciousness ; but only an impersonal pre$. 
 
94 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 ence, as of light in the crystal, as of heat in the sun- 
 beam. But in Christ, with the natures distinctly two, 
 the person is absolutely one. And so the incessant 
 paradox. In one breath we say of Him, He was born 
 and died. In the next breath we say of Him, " Before 
 Abraham was, He is." Babe, boy, man, martyr ; and 
 yet God manifest in the flesh. And for three and 
 thirty years, nearly nineteen hundred years ago, this 
 mysterious being was in Palestine ; as much at home 
 there as John or Caiaphas. Now He sailed upon the 
 lake, asleep like a weary fisherman ; and now He 
 smoothed the tossing billows by a word. Now He was 
 a wedding guest ; and now He turned the water into 
 wine. Now He wept for Lazarus ; and now He called 
 him back out of the silent depths. Now He died Him- 
 self ; conquering death for Himself, and for us all. At 
 Bethlehem His winged feet first touched this shore of 
 time ; from Olivet they sprang back into the eternal 
 home. 
 
 Such is the Christ of the New Testament, from Gos- 
 pel to Apocalypse. Such was the Christ of Christen- 
 dom, in its instinctive faith, for all those three hundred 
 years which waited for the Nicene Creed. Such, in 
 steady, solid cadence has been the confession of all the 
 centuries from then till now. Here at last we rest. 
 The great hunger is appeased. We can accept no less. 
 We can ask no more. God in Christ is the crown of 
 all our thinking, the end of all our desires, the solace 
 of all our sorrows, the conquest of all our fears. God 
 Triune in eternity ; God manifest in time : how Soc- 
 rates would have wept for joy, had he seen this vis- 
 ion. Probably he sees it now. Thank God, we see 
 
DISTIN0TI7B FEATURES OF OERISTIANITT 95 
 
 it, and philosophy sees it more and more clearly from 
 age to age. From patheistic speculations, our only 
 logical escape is in this doctrine of the "Word made 
 flesh. Here the sage and the savage meet. The con- 
 ception of such a Divine Humanity is equally beyond 
 them both ; but as an accomplished historic fact it satis- 
 fies and saves them both. 
 
 II. The second distinctive feature of Christianity is 
 Atonement. 
 
 Both Testaments are full of it. If, as a Eoman poet 
 has said, it be human to err, equally human are remorse 
 and fear. Dualism, which affirms the independent eter- 
 nity of evil, is a crude and childish philosophy. Con- 
 science spurns it. In man's sober and honest judgment 
 of himself, he is an offender, not merely against the 
 moral order of the world, whatever that may be, but 
 against an Infinite Moral Personality. Punishment is 
 our instinctive apprehension, Nature, we see, always 
 punishes, never pardons, an offender. Fire burns, wa- 
 ter drowns, always. Human governments find it un- 
 safe to pardon. History, logic, psychology are aU 
 against it. Can God pardon ? Plato says He cannot. 
 But Plato did not know God as we do. The Tri-unity 
 of God, he only guessed. John's description, definition 
 perhaps, " God is Love" Plato could not have guessed. 
 I will not say that human beings would never have dared 
 to dream that God might somehow relieve the agony 
 of guilty fear. But no prudent thinker surely would 
 ever venture to reason from goodness to mercy. Tha*. 
 God so loved the world as to suffer from Himself, unto 
 Himself, within Himself, for the world's redemption, 
 
96 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 is one of the stupendous, awful secrets of the Unseen 
 Realm, Atonement is eternal. Add I beheld, and, lo, 
 in the midst of the throne and of the four beasts, and 
 in the midst of the elders, stood a Lamb as it had been 
 slain ; slain from the foundation of the world. 
 
 Moral evil, of course, perplexes, confounds, staggers 
 us. But I read in our catechism that God has " un- 
 changeably foreordained whatsoever comes to pass in 
 time." And Descartes teaches exactly the same doc- 
 trine. I am not afraid to side with God, and take my 
 chance with His attributes of justice and mercy. If 
 only I am conscious of hating sin, as I am sure God 
 hates it, I know I am safe ; safe always, safe anywhere. 
 The black cloud is emptied of its wrath. The fiery 
 bolt has sunk, hissing, but quenched, into the bosom of 
 God Himself. Debt cancelled, anger appeased, Satan 
 routed. Death and Hell conquered: call these meta- 
 phors, if you will; they are infinitely short of the 
 reality. 
 
 In Gethsemane, under the olive-trees, under the fuU- 
 orbed Paschal moon, I see the bloody sweat, and I hear 
 the cry, " My soul is exceeding sorrowful," and I am 
 not afraid to say, that God has suffered for my sin, and 
 suffers still. My trust is in the Lamb slain before the 
 morning stars sang together. 
 
 in. The third distinctive feature of Christianity is 
 
 Confession of sin is not confined to Christendom, 
 Universal sacrifice is universal confession. It is in all 
 literatures, even in that of China, the coldest and poor- 
 est. In the better, profounder literatures, as of Greece 
 
DISTINCTIVE FEATUME8 OF CHBISTIANITT 97 
 
 and Eome, this conf ession also is profound and searching. 
 " It is clear," says Aristotle in his JSTicomachean Ethics, 
 " that not one of the moral virtues springs up in us by 
 nature." " We all have sinned," says Seneca, " some 
 more, others less." Paul goes no farther than this when 
 he says, vre are " by nature the children of wrath." 
 
 It was not the fact, but on.y the genesis of moral 
 evil, about which the ancient philosophers were at 
 fault, Assuming a better original estate, they ex- 
 plained our present character by supposing a gradual 
 degeneracy : the successive ages of gold, of silver, of 
 brass, and of iron. As Coleridge observes, " They had 
 no notion of & fall of man." Of course they could 
 conceive of no adequate remedy. 
 
 And yet near the end of a dialogue Hespeotmg Vir- 
 tue, Platonic in its spirit, though probably not rightly 
 ascribed to Plato, we are told, that viituc is neither 
 natural nor acquirable by study, but comes, if it come 
 at all, by a Divine fate, without any purpose of our 
 own, by which is meant, of course, any originating 
 purpose of oar own. Here at length is a sign-board 
 pointing in the right direction. 
 
 Christianity begins its curative work by a better 
 diagnosis of the disease. It sets in clear light the 
 original rectitude of man, discloses the Tempter, and 
 proclaims the Fall. Traducianism may or may not be 
 true : who knows ? But the race is one. The genera- 
 tions are knit closely together. Sour grapes sharpen 
 the children's teeth. We are bad enough, no doubt. 
 And bad things enough are in the air. But we forget 
 sometimes this other fact, that good things also are in 
 the air. The world is not heaved from its orbit into 
 
98 ETEBNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 boundless and dreary space. Its path is still star-lit, 
 coming round in its majestic sweep. God in Christ is 
 reconciling the world, forgiving sin. It was so in the 
 early morning of history, when the shadows stretched 
 afar, and the dew was heavy on the grass. It is just 
 the same at high-noon to-day. Penitence is sure of 
 pardon. No sad-eyed Magdalen, no broken-hearted 
 Peter, no confessing brigand, shall find the door of 
 mercy closed. 
 
 But let no man carelessly repeat his folly, and his 
 sin. Grace is in the air to regenerate our souls. New 
 creatures we know we ought to be. New purposes we 
 need, and a new life. Persuasion to virtue was the 
 task and function of the heathen moralist. The ofEer 
 of God's regenerating grace is the task and function of 
 the Christian evangelist. And there is that in us 
 which will be satisfied with nothing less. We know 
 what nature is, the old man in us all, pointing, drifting, 
 dragging always downwards into sin and shame. Grace, 
 we faiow, too, right well, is another mystery. We can- 
 not make one hair white or black. We cannot add one 
 pulse-beat to our allotted portion. Still less can we re- 
 generate ourselves. By no direct volition can any hate 
 be changed to love, or any love to hate. But this 
 world was trodden by the feet of an Incarnate God. 
 Its atmosphere is full of grace; and our lungs have 
 only to take it in. Our palsied arms may obey the 
 voice that is sounding all the time. 
 
 Such is our religion. Philosophy may well be proud 
 of it. These three doctrines of Incarnation, Atone- 
 ment, and Kegeneration are all in the line of human 
 reason, as seen in the light of history ; and yet are in- 
 
BISTINOTIVM FEATUME8 OF G1IBI8TIANITT 99 
 
 finitely beyond all human reason, as those know best 
 who are best informed. Our religion transcends every 
 other religion, our philosophy every other philosophy, 
 by all the difference there is between a line touching 
 only the clouds, and a line that touches the heart of 
 God. 
 
 There is no mistating this human instinct. There is 
 no drowning this human outcry. What we want is an 
 incarnate, reconciled, and regenerating Grod. Such a 
 Grod, or none at all. In this last quarter of the nine- 
 teenth century no other choice is left us. Christianity, 
 or Atheism: which shall it be? Civilization, or bar- 
 barism : which shall it be ? The hour of plenty ? or the 
 trampled cornfield, and the bloody street ? 
 
VTI 
 THE LAW OF SERVICE 
 
THE LAW OF SEKVIOE 
 
 BAOOAI.ATJJBEATE ' 
 
 "But wTtoaoever wiU le great a/mong you, shall be your minister; 
 and wJiosoeeer of you will be the chief est, shall be servant of all." — 
 Mabe X. 43, 41. 
 
 The desire for distinetiou is one of the radical prin- 
 ciples of our nature ; never so crucified and buried but 
 that, in unexpected ways and moments, it may revive, 
 and rise again in power. In the world we find it, and 
 in the Church. Charles the Fifth could lay off the 
 imperial purple, but could not so easily dispossess him- 
 self of the imperial will. Simon Stylites on his pillar 
 in the Lybian Desert, was as willing to draw crowds 
 out after him as any most lordly Bishop of Alexandria. 
 The decrepit anchorite, in spite of his austerities, was 
 still a man ; his stomach hungry for bread, his heart 
 hungry for applause. 
 
 This subtle passion is strongest in the middle and 
 more athletic period of life. It comes in between the 
 love of pleasure, which besets our youth, and the love 
 of gain, which besets our age. It marts especially the 
 
 ' Delivered at Bowdoin College, July 39, 1855, when leaving the 
 Collins professorship of Natural and Revealed Religion to accept 
 the Washburn professorship of Church History in Union Theolog- 
 ical Seminary New York. 
 
 (103) 
 
104 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 passage from youth to manhood ; from tasks to strag- 
 gles ; from the gymnastics of stndy to the tng of war. 
 The first conscions flaming of it is a sort of signal 
 rocket, annonncing that the battle is abont to begin. 
 
 Though liable to desperate abuse, this passion, like 
 every other, was benevolently given. If it causes wars, 
 and builds up oppressive institutions, poisoning the 
 hearts and cursing the lives of men, it is likewise one 
 of the sharpest spurs to honorable toil, inspires the 
 grandest achievements, and strikes its deepest roots into 
 the deepest natures. 
 
 "We have thus touched upon one of the great motive 
 powers of society, which, manifestly, is not to be fought 
 against, as an enemy to virtue, but drawn into service 
 rather, as an ally. So teaches reason, accepting the 
 human constitution, in all its elements, precisely as God 
 has tempered it. So also teaches Christianity, as ex- 
 pounded by Christ Himself in the chapter which fur- 
 nishes our text. The Twelve Apostles, still carnal, as 
 ■» e ai'e wont to say, by which is meant that they were 
 still human, had fallen into rivalry and strife as to 
 which of them should be greatest in the Messianic 
 Kingdom. Here was ambition blazing up hotly amongst 
 men divinely chosen to be the hope of nations and 
 ages. Unseemly enough, as it must needs appear, and 
 bad enough ; but not wholly bad, or our Lord would 
 have torn it up root and branch. Instead of this, He 
 dealt gently with the contending disciples. It was not 
 the original instinct, craving distinction, but only the 
 selfishness and misdirection of it, which He rebuked. 
 The simple desire they had for eminence, was not held 
 to be in itself reprehensible ; though it greatly needed 
 
THE LAW OF SEBTIOE 105 
 
 limitation and guidance. He did not chide thera for 
 wishing to be distinguished ; but rather demanded right 
 endeavors of them in the right direction. And so He 
 propounded, in the fulness of His wisdom, a definition 
 of human greatness, which sounds at first like reproba- 
 tion of the very thought of greatness, but now is en- 
 dorsed by history, and must commend itself to the 
 riper judgment of the world as the only true definition. 
 The great man, He proclaimed in effect, is the service- 
 able man ; and he is greatest of all who is most ser- 
 viceable of aU. It is to this divine ideal, test, and 
 measure of human greatness that I invite this afternoon 
 the attention of my hearers. 
 
 This topic is justified, I think, by the occasion which 
 has called us together. The occasion is not ordinary, 
 but academic. Our honored college is about to dis- 
 miss another of its classes to a closer commerce with 
 the toils and conflicts of life. These young men, so 
 full of ardent and generous sympathies, are, of course, 
 ambitious of distinction in the world ; and ambitious 
 of it just in proportion to their gifts and attainments. 
 It is the office of the Christian preacher, not to malign 
 this ambition, but direct it on its proper path, towards 
 its proper goal. 
 
 I. True greatness, let us remark then in the first 
 place, is not indicated either by a conspicuous position, 
 or the buzz of popular applause. 
 
 Mere parentage has much to do in fixing the positions 
 of men. In some countries a man is lifted by it at once 
 to throne and diadem. Joyous cannon may announce 
 his birth, regal splendors illuminate his cradle, and a 
 
106 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 nation salute Mm as its future sovereign. And yet he 
 may be deformed in body, vulgar in taste, imbecile in 
 intellect ; while in some obscure hamlet another child 
 is bom to lofty genius and a large renown. James the 
 First may be at play in palace courts, while Shake- 
 speare is running wild in Stratford. Even in a land like 
 our own, so well cleared of hereditary burdens, birth 
 and blood are very potent. The services which a great 
 man renders to society, and the honors he wears, shed 
 lustre upon his family. His children inherit something 
 of his authority, and are great by imputation. Some- 
 times they are really great, and the mantle goes wor- 
 thily from sire to son. John Adams was followed by 
 John Qnincy Adams. Oftener, it is only the name 
 that descends ; or the name and the merit get divorced, 
 and travel down in separate paths, as in the case of the 
 English Chatham, who left aU his genius to one son, 
 but only his title to another. 
 
 In many cases, a commanding position is wholly ac- 
 cidental. Fortune has her freaks, and sometimes whirls 
 men most strangely into place and power. Rank and au- 
 thority may come about through sheer stress of circum- 
 stances, and not at all through personal desert. Espe- 
 cially is this liable to happen in a free state, where the 
 meeting and clash of rival interests and parties may 
 frequently bring the weakest men to the surface, like 
 froth and drift-wood upon the bosom of clashing tides. 
 Republics are no more exempt from elected imbecil- 
 ities, than monarchies are from born ones. 
 
 The same is true of reputation. It is often the 
 merest bubble. A man's name may be on all the 
 winds ; he may multiply orations, *write books, and 
 
TEE LAW OF SEBVIOB 107 
 
 luake a great stir in the world, with a very slender cap- 
 ital either of common honesty or common sense. If it 
 is being talked about that a man desires, he may have 
 enough of it, and very cheaply too. Mere oddity will 
 secure it for him, or impudence, or rashness. He may 
 dress strangely; or leap down Trenton Falls; or turn 
 reformer; or write his own life, parading his own 
 shame. Nothing is easier in this world than charlatan- 
 ry. There are multitudes ready to pay for being 
 duped, and then to pay again for being told of it. In 
 politics, many reputations are wholly factitious and 
 partisan. A man is great by the clamor of his own 
 party ; merely because he is their spokesman, perhaps 
 only their speaking-trumpet. 
 
 In the Church also there are provincial and sectarian 
 reputations grossly at variance with the sterling and 
 solid merits of men. Sects may have their champions, 
 and dogmas their gladiators, whose brazen throats make 
 more noise in the world than did the golden lips of 
 Ohrysostom. Mere pillars of sand are they, rendered 
 stately by the whirling wind ; but falling flat and ster- 
 ile the moment the wind is hushed, 
 
 Even literature has its tricks and quackeries. In 
 every age there is a distinctive cant of sentiment, a 
 fashion and foible of style and diction, which a cunning 
 writer of small ability is frequently able to turn to 
 great account. Painters who flatter their sitters, and 
 poets who laud their patrons, whether those sitters and 
 patrons be the few or the million, are tolerably sure of 
 being popular. Unfortunately for them, fortunately 
 for histor}', time is a stern avenger of such cheats. A 
 mere bubble reputation, glitter as it may, is doomed to 
 
108 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 be again the drop of soapy water that it was. Mere 
 position, then, is nothing ; mere popularity is nothing. 
 Exalted stations add nothing to human stature. A 
 great reputation may chance to balloon a very little 
 man. 
 
 n. But I hasten to remark, in the second place, that 
 true greatness is not indicated infallibly even by the 
 presence of great abilities, or great acquisitions. 
 
 It is idle to argue, that mankind are created equal in 
 gifts and graces. The common sentiment of the world 
 is, that men differ widely in their endowments ; and 
 the gaze of the world is sure to be fixed upon such as 
 are deemed superior to the common crowd. Some men 
 have a rare sense of beauty and grandeur, which makes 
 them Raphaels, Angelos, and Allstons. Others have a 
 fineness, a breadth, a radiance of intellect, which makes 
 them Platoa, Aristotles, and Bacons. Others again 
 have a masterly force of will, which makes them Cae- 
 sars, Cromwellfi, and Napoleons. That there is some- 
 thing remarkable in the make, the texture, the temper- 
 ing of such constitutions, is not to be doubted. That 
 they rightly arrest the world's attention, and awaken 
 the world's applause, is equally true. A generation be- 
 reaved of great men like these, or bereaved of faith in 
 the possibility of such men, would be poor indeed. 
 
 Great acquisitions are also worthy of profound re- 
 spect. Next to the power of making great and good 
 books is the power of mastering them. If there be few 
 Platos, there are also but few Platonists. Such men as 
 Laplace and Kepler teach but small classes. Most men 
 are deeply humbled amongst the alcoves of a modern 
 
TEW ZAW OF SEBVIOE 109 
 
 library. A variously learned man, like Humboldt, is 
 more to Prussia than a dozen of her ordinary kings. 
 
 But the chief danger of the world in respect to such 
 abilities, and such acquisitions, is not in the direction 
 of low esteem and neglect, but in the direction of a 
 blind idolatry rather. Hero-worship is a perpetual 
 fact in history. Mankind are sadly prone to be fasci- 
 nated by mere ability, or what is so esteemed, irrespect- 
 ive of its exercise; by mere learning, irrespective of 
 its aims and uses. 
 
 We encounter this idolatry in every walk of life. 
 Much lamentation is ponred out over what is called 
 dormant power ; Cromwells that lead no armies, New- 
 tons that write no Principia, Miltons that build no lofty 
 rhymes. Men are named in every circle, of whom it is 
 remarked, that they are possessed of great abilities, if 
 they would only exercise them ; or possessed of great 
 learning, if they would only nse it. Ifo doubt there is 
 such a thing as having one's talent, a real talent, laid 
 up in a napkin. But there is possibly much less of 
 waste in this way than is commonly supposed. There 
 is a meaning, perhaps, in that feature of the Gospel 
 parable, which represents the idle talent as being a sol- 
 itary and single one ; a talent in some one direction, as 
 that of a mere chemist, mathematician, linguist, or lo- 
 gician. Ability of this sort, thus partial, limited, and 
 narrow, may doubtless be content to slumber, or exer- 
 cise itself only in trifling. But true greatness cannot 
 justly be predicated of any such ability. Eeal power 
 has fulness and variety. It is not narrow like light- 
 ning, but broad like light. The man who truly and 
 worthily excels in any one line of endeavor, might also, 
 
110 ETEBNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 under a change of circumstances, have excelled in some 
 other line. Power is a thing of solidity and wholeness. 
 The strong arm must belong to a strong body. He 
 who eight times led conquering legions into Gaul, could 
 also write matchless commentaries describing their ex- 
 ploits. He who fought at Marengo and Austerlitz, 
 could also build Alpine roads and construct the Code 
 Napoleon. He who sang Paradise Lost, could also pen 
 ablest state papers. He who taught Xenophon moral- 
 ity, might also have carved statues, or commanded 
 armies. In short, he who really does one thing well, 
 can do several things ; I had almost said, can do any- 
 thing. Ability to do only some one thing, is not a 
 great ability ; and those who admire it much, overrate 
 it. Even learning, in the truest sense of the word, is 
 not merely something acquired. Mere knowledge, in 
 great abundance and variety, may, to be sure, be taken 
 up by the mind, as a sponge takes up water ; but learn- 
 ing, which deserves the name, is quite a different 
 achievement. It implies some amplitude and fulness 
 of manhood ; warmth of emotion, clearness of intellect, 
 and force of will. Erasmus, for example, was only a 
 great scholar; but Luther was a great man. 
 
 True greatness, first of all, is a thing of the heart. 
 It is all alive with robust and generous sympathies. It 
 is neither behind its age, nor too far before it. It is 
 up with its age, and ahead of it only just so far as to 
 be able to lead its march. It cannot slumber, for ac- 
 tivity is a necessity of its existence. It is no reservoir, 
 but a fountain. 
 
 Let us therefore waste no tears over what the world 
 calls id'e talent, and idle learning. Real talent, and 
 
THE LAW OF aMBYIOM HI 
 
 real learning, are not at all likely to be idle. It is 
 their veiy instinct to be active. The man who does 
 nothing, is nothing. The man who has nothing import- 
 ant to give, has nothing important to keep. The truly 
 great will have words to speak, and a work to do. 
 
 III. This brings ns to the true ideal and measure of 
 greatness as set before us by Christ Himself. In one 
 word, it consists in usefulness, ll^ot in position or 
 name ; not in mere talent or acquisition ; not even in 
 the mere disposition and ability to work ; but in the 
 disposition and ability to work beneficently. " Whoso- 
 ever will be great among you, shall be your minister ; 
 and whosoever of you will be the chiefest, shall be 
 servant of all." Which means, that he who does the 
 greatest amount of good in this world, is the greatest 
 man. 
 
 Thus, according to Gospel teaching, greatness is a 
 word too sacred to be applied to mere ability, or mere 
 learning, of any sort or any amount ; still less to abil- 
 ity, or learning, put to selfish and bad uses. This is the 
 OhiTstian sentiment. It is also at bottom the universal 
 sentiment. The Titans of ancient fable, who piled 
 mountains together, and stormed the heavens, were 
 not great, only huge. Hercules was great by virtue 
 of the twelve great labors which he performed. Gre- 
 cian art, faultless as it was, failed of being great by 
 being sensual. The schoolmen of the Middle Ages 
 were great dialecticians, but generally were not great 
 men. Hindoo generals are not great leaders, for, 
 though they wield vast masses of men, they wield 
 them to little or no purpose. He is not great, who 
 
112 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 merely wastes the nations ; only he is great, who saves 
 and serves them. In the long run, history settles its 
 account with every man, by determining precisely what 
 good he has accomplished. If Napoleon saved France 
 from anarchy, and ploughed Europe with his cannon- 
 balls only in order to a goodly harvest of universal 
 freedom, then the world is ready to shout, that Napo- 
 leon was truly great. 
 
 But the rule, which the historic judgment of the 
 world thus proceeds upon, and always has proceeded 
 upon, is more an instinct than a principle. Christianity 
 lays it down with emphasis as the highest Law. Ac- 
 cording to this Law, he only is great of heart, who 
 floods the world with a great affection. He only is 
 great of mind, who stirs the world with great thoughts. 
 He only is great of will, who does something to shape 
 the world to a great career. And he is greatest, who 
 does the most of all these things, and does them best. 
 
 It must be so. This world, on which our eyes have 
 opened, is a world of many sins and many miseries. 
 The economy, under which we Hve, is not one of mere 
 development, but of sheer recovery. Not culture, but 
 redemption, is its banner and its hope. The one grand 
 event in this world's history, is the Incarnation of God 
 in Christ. The one central Person, amongst all its 
 millions, is the Person of its suffering Eodeemer. The 
 one great symbol of its faith, and pledge of triumph, is 
 the Cross. The eternal counsel of Redemption was a 
 counsel of sacrifice and sorrow. Christ came into this 
 world, emptied of His original fulness, shorn of Hia 
 original glory, to do not His own wUl, but the Father's. 
 He was a man, with human sympathies, in the midst 
 
THE LAW OF SEBVIOE 113 
 
 of human relations and objects of effoi't ; but He never 
 once sought His own pleasure in them. He lived, 
 toiled, suffered, wholly for the good of others. He 
 craved no rest ; He sought no wealth ; He asked no 
 applause ; He aspired to no secular dominion. In the 
 language of the Evangelist, He " came not to be minis- 
 tered unto, but to minister, and to give His life a ran- 
 som for many." ' 
 
 Here, then, is our rule of life. The world lies before 
 us in its want and woe, begging for relief. There are 
 maladies of body, requiring the physician's skill. There 
 are clashings of rights and interests, requiring the 
 jurist's lore. There are clouds of ignorance, requir- 
 ing the scholar's light. There are wastes of sin, re- 
 quiring the preacher's husbandry. It is not a world 
 for men to take their ease in ; but a world for 
 work. It is not a world for the selfish greed of 
 gain ; nor the selfish pantings of ambition ; nor the 
 selfish struggles of power ; but a world for generous 
 self-abandonment, for sacrifice, and heroic toil. He 
 who seeks only to get a living here, is the merest earth- 
 worm. He who is greedy for pleasure, deserves to rot, 
 as he surely will. He who sighs for place and fame, 
 is the merest trifler. He who builds a throne for him- 
 self upon the necks of men, shall become a hissing and 
 a bye-word amongst the nations. Only he shall be 
 loved of God, and honored of men, who is found to 
 have accomplished something for human happiness and 
 human good. 
 
 As to the particular sphere in which a man shall lay 
 out the labor of his life, this must be determined by a 
 ' Mark x. 45. 
 
114: ETEBNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 wise regard to individual tastes, talents, and cironm« 
 stances. He who tills the ground in the fear of God, 
 and in love to man, is preparing himself to range at 
 last the fields of Paradise. He who works at any trade, 
 vrfth a Christian purpose, shall be welcomed on high 
 by the Carpenter of Nazareth. He who steers a ship 
 en Christian errands, with a Christian heart, shall have 
 for his companions in another world the blessed boat- 
 men of Galilee. He who makes his counting-room no 
 mere temple of Mammon, but a temple of God, shall 
 lay up treasures in Heaven. He who goes about as a 
 good physician, ministering at once to the bodies and 
 souls of men, shall himself be blessed by the Balm 
 there is in Gilead and the Great Physician who is there. 
 He who labors in court-rooms, either at the Bar or on 
 the Bench, to establish justice between man and man, 
 remembering always the Judge above, shall hear an ac- 
 quitting verdict on the day of final trial. He who toils 
 for science, or toils in schools, pouring light into dark- 
 ened intellects, that he may bring out a nobler hymn 
 of praise to the Great Architect and Lord of all, shall 
 take his place at length with Cherubim and Seraphim. 
 But noblest and best of aU, are they who shall spend 
 their days in laboring to win souls to Christ. "Wisest 
 of workers, wisest of men, they shall shine as stars in 
 the firmament of God forever. 
 
 Such are the various employments and spheres of 
 men. Each must choose for himself the one best suited 
 to his gifts. But all must choose with one heart, one 
 purpose, in the fear of God, and under the light of 
 Eternal realities. No dream of ease, of emolument, of 
 fame, of power, should ever intervene to pollute our 
 
THE LAW OF SBUYIOE 115 
 
 choice. But do what we will in this world, we must 
 do it benevolently, do it for Ohri?t. 
 
 The motives to the adoption of such a rule of life 
 are obvious and strong. 
 
 In the first place, it is the key to happiness. God is 
 infinitely happy in His boundless beneficence. He re- 
 joices in being the centre and fountain, out of which 
 all things stream and flow. Christ was happy in giv- 
 ing Himself up a sacrifice for the world. In all ages, 
 the happiest of men have been the busiest and most 
 beneficent. 
 
 In the next place, it enhances power ; relative power 
 and actual power. This world's affairs, managed by 
 God for redemptive ends, are all moving on mightily 
 towards benevolent issues. He who undertakes to be 
 selfish, is simply setting himself against the majestic 
 current, and must be borne down by it. He who works 
 for God and man, with the least of solicitude about him- 
 self, has all the forces of Providence working with him. 
 As these forces are powerful, so is he ; and their tri- 
 umph is his triumph. But" besides this enhancement 
 of relative power, there is also a great and manifest en- 
 hancement of actual power. The benevolent affections 
 are the best stimulants of the intellect, the best allies 
 and energizers of the will. In mere intellect Aaron 
 Burr was, perhaps, the superior of Washington. In 
 the work accomplished, there is no comparison to be 
 thought of. Henry Martyn was twice the man for go- 
 ing to Persia that he would have been had he remained 
 in England ; and, consequently, has twice the fame. 
 It is by dying that we live. It is only the good and 
 the self-denying who rnle us from their urns. 
 
116 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 In the third place, it is noble. Selfishness is piti- 
 ful and paltry. Living merely for bread, for place, 
 for fame, for power, for anything but the glory of God 
 in the good of human souls, is beneath the dignity of 
 our being, beneath the grandeur of our position. This 
 world in which we dwell, is but one of myriads, dot. 
 ting the fields of space. Each single man upon it is 
 but one of a thousand millions, moving about under 
 the eye of Grod. And then this vast universe Itself, 
 whose remotest bounds even an angel might be years 
 upon years in traversing, how little thing it is when set 
 in contrast with the vastness of Him who formed it. 
 These worlds all might perish, each in its silent path, or 
 rush crashing together in one common ruin, while not 
 a cloud would shadow for a moment the broad and 
 peaceful bosom of their Creator. My hearers, God 
 only is great; eternity only is long; souls only are 
 precious. And he only who lives for these, and dies 
 for these, is living and dying nobly. 
 
 And so God, in His Providence, has brought me to 
 my final labors here. The three years now closing I must 
 reckon amongst the happiest of all my life. Happiness 
 is not what I came here for ; but happiness has been 
 bestowed, added. Deaf to other calls, which at first 
 sounded more welcome to my ears, I came this way in 
 obedience to what seemed to be my d uty. Others advised 
 it, and amongst them the sainted father ' of the honored 
 head of this College ; they advised it, and 1 came. 
 And now I bless God for that advice, and that decision. 
 
 ' Dr. Lepnard Woods, Professor of Theology in Andover Sem- 
 inary from 1807 untU 184fi, and Emeritus Professor until his death, 
 Aug. 34, 1854. 
 
THE LAW OF SERVICE \\1 
 
 Bul God's voice seems to be speaking to me again. 
 A post of labor to which I had never aspired, of which 
 I had never dreamed, now solicits me, and I must go. 
 I go with pain and grief, but I go with steady foot, and 
 a harnessed will, to toil in the same cause, for the same 
 Master. I ask for no joy, no honor, but what may be 
 found in useful toil. I ask only for Christian work, 
 and a Christian heart to do it. 
 
 To the members of this church and congregation, to 
 the members of other churches and congregations, 
 citizens of this good town, I wish now to return my 
 thanks for much kindness, for many favors. 
 
 Mr. President and Grentlemen of the Faculty, it is 
 meet that I take special leave of you. I know your 
 ability, I honor your learning ; but most of all do I 
 honor your high, steady, Christian devotion to duty. 
 I am witness for you to-day before the world, that of 
 all your motives to labor here for the youth committed 
 to your charge, loyalty to conscience, and loyalty to 
 God, to Christ and to Christ's Church, are amongst 
 your highest and strongest motives. Long may the 
 College flourish under your instructions, and late may 
 you be gathered to your reward. 
 
 To the students of the College as a body I owe large 
 gratitude. The little I have done for you has been re- 
 paid to me, a thousand times over, by kind words and 
 generous affections. May God bless you, each and all. 
 
 And now, young Gentlemen of the Graduating class, 
 it remains for me to say my parting word to you. 
 
 Tour studies and struggles here are finished. Ardu- 
 ous and honorable, these studies and struggles have 
 been ; but faint and feeble compai-ed with those which 
 
118 ETEBNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 yet await you in the world, if you have the courage 
 and the constancy to act well your parts. 
 
 Let me warn you solemnly against going forth into 
 this world on a selfish errand. You are not your own. 
 You are all bought with a price. You belong not to 
 yourselves ; you" belong to God, you belong to Christ, 
 you belong to the race which Christ came to redeem. 
 And your great errand here is to be useful. 
 
 In the choice of a profession, choose that in which 
 you may hope to do the most for God and for mankind. 
 Seek not ease, nor rank, nor reputation, nor anything but 
 the glory of God and the good of human souls. So 
 , shall you find the happiness you crave. So shall you " 
 enhance your power for good. So shall you. run a 
 noble cai-eer, and find a crown of glory waiting for you 
 at the end. 
 
VIII 
 LIFE THROUGH DEATH 
 
LIFE THROUGH DEATH 
 
 "Be thatfindeth his life, shaU lose it; and Tie that loseth his life 
 for My sake, shaUfind it." — Matthew x. 39. 
 
 This tenth chapter of Matthew belongs to the second 
 year of our Lord's ministry. John the Baptist was in 
 prison over on the east side of the Dead Sea. Southern 
 Palestine would have nothing more to do with the new 
 doctrines. The Great Teacher had gone up into northern 
 Palestine, where there were fewer Jews, and they, less 
 Jewish. Twice already had He made the circuit of 
 friendly Galilee, taking His twelve disciples with Him. 
 !t^ow He determines' to send them off on another cir- 
 cuit alone, to see how they will manage without Him: 
 just as the old eagle, having lifted the young eagles 
 out of their nest, and taking a turn or two, shakes 
 them off into the air. 
 
 Those twelve men had need to know what might 
 happen, what must happen, and what, in case it went 
 hard with them, they would have to do. Forewarned, 
 they would be forearmed. And so our Lord, who had 
 some months before preached what has been called 
 their ordination sermon — the Sermon on the Mount, 
 now delivers what may be called their charge. One 
 thought pervades it ; one voice rings through it, strik- 
 ing the startled ear like the blast of a bugle. The sky 
 
 (121) 
 
122 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 is now comparatively clear. But a storm is brewing. 
 It will not go smoothly with those twelve men. The 
 Gospel is peace at last, peace even here on earth, and 
 peace in heaven ; but here and now it means war. And 
 war is wcm'. Flesh and spirit are the embattled hosts ; 
 in the individual, and in the organism. Men are saved 
 only as they get the better oT themselves ; the higher 
 self treading down and treading out the lower self. 
 What is virtue but sharp conflict all the way along, 
 and in death alone the victory? If ever we enter 
 Heaven, we go in on our shields. And in history at large 
 the triumph of Truth and Right, so sure to come at 
 last, is not by peaceful ballot, but by tears and blood, 
 by scourge, by iron fetter, by shameful cross, by lighted 
 fagot. To escape with our lives, is to lose our lives. 
 To be slain is to live forevermore. Did this seem hard 
 to the twelve disciples, raw recruits as they were? 
 Does it seem hard to us ? 
 
 Two great laws of life are involved in our text ; we 
 shall do well to ponder them. 
 
 I. It is commonly required of us to sacrifice a lower 
 good, in order to gain a higher. liTot always, but al- 
 most always. The good things of this world are of 
 several sorts, very unlike one another. And it is seldom 
 that you see anybody enjoying all of them at once, or 
 most of them. For example, what is called having a 
 good time, is a very different thing from having a good 
 name ; and having a good name, a very different thing 
 from having a good character. There are exceptions, to 
 be sure, but the rule is, that every man shall take his 
 choice, and then abide by it ; selecting some one thing 
 
LIFE THROUaS DEATH 123 
 
 that he wants, and consenting to forego all the rest. The 
 world is thus turned into a vast Bazaar, where everything 
 is ticketed and has its price ; but where no man makes 
 more than one purchase at a time. Especially true is 
 it that a lower sort of good has to be given up for a 
 higher. If we may not have God and Mammon for 
 our friends, still less may we reverse the order, and 
 have Mammon and God. 
 
 Consider the sensualist, the man of pleasure, what is 
 called the man of the world. Now it is idle to say, 
 that the pleasures of sense are not real pleasures. They 
 a/re real. A young man of good constitution, and in 
 good health, may have a good time of it, if he wishes 
 to. But if this is what he cares most for, he will 
 never come to much. Cyrus, of old, 1 take it, was no 
 Puritan. But he preferred power to pleasure. And 
 so we call him Cyrus the Great. Modern Shahs, sit- 
 ting on the same throne, but preferring pleasure to 
 power, are of no personal account whatever ; are simply 
 disgusting when they come to be seen too closely. 
 Pleasure is not altogether out of the question amongst 
 higher things, as is proved by such examples as those 
 of Pericles, Csesar, and Bonaparte ; but pleasure su- 
 preme, is simply fatal to a great career. It may give 
 you an Alcibiades, but never a Leonidas. 
 
 So, too, of money. Here again it is idle to say that 
 money is of no account. It is of some account, and 
 the love of it is not necessarily a meanness. Nor is 
 property so much a matter of luck and chance as many 
 people suppose. The truth is, to any man sufficiently 
 unscrupulous on the one side, and sufficiently self- 
 denying on the other, there are no such things as luck 
 
124: ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 and chance. Not quite every man, perhaps, but almost 
 every man, may be rich by and by, who sets out to be 
 rich. Only to make a perfectly sure thing of it, this 
 must be his supreme aim, and when the pinch comes, 
 he must aim at nothing else. All that is higher, and 
 all that is lower, must be cheerfully given up. Money 
 must be the one thing he goes for. This, indeed, is the 
 price of money, as of everything else; and he must 
 pay it. 
 
 But, at all events, he must give up the lower good. 
 He must not be a man of the world. He must be ab- 
 stemious in eating ; temperate in drinking ; temperate 
 in all things. He must rein in his appetite. Good per- 
 sonal habits — habits of self-restraint, must be well 
 established. Cool must be the brain, sharp the sight, 
 and steady the nerves of him who is determined to 
 be rich. 
 
 It is our very first argument against intemperance, 
 that it is a desperate foe to thrift. It eats up property, 
 we say, and beggars families. Hardly less fatal to a 
 business man are the gayeties of fashion. They con- 
 sume his time, and make him frivolous ; breaking up 
 those discreet and sober habits of mind, which are es- 
 sential to success. Indeed, seK-indulgence of any sort 
 is utterly hostile to enterprise and gain. True for all 
 time is that vision of the sluggard in the Proverbs of 
 Solomon : " I went by the field of the slothful, and the 
 vineyard of the man void of understanding ; and lo, it 
 was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had cov- 
 ered the face thereof, and the stone wall thereof was 
 broken down. Then I saw and considered it well, I 
 looked upon it and received instruction. Yet a little 
 
LIFE THBOUan DEATH 126 
 
 sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to 
 sleep : so shall thy poverty come as one that travelleth ; 
 and thy want as an armed man." ' 
 
 While, on the other hand, there has been in all ages 
 but one way of growing rich. It is exacted of the 
 votary of wealth, that he " rise up early, sit up late, 
 and eat the bread of sorrows." " At the very thresh- 
 old of his undertaking, he must bid adieu to pleasure. 
 If his appetites are strong, he must restrain and con- 
 quer them. If prone to self-indulgence, he must cut 
 up this weakness by the roots. In a word, denying 
 himself every inferior gratification, he must husband 
 well his time, and bend all his energies upon the one 
 purpose and struggle to be rich. Whichever one of the 
 two he chooses — ^pleasure or money — that one he can 
 have. But not the two together. 
 
 And so of fame. Here again it is idle to berate 
 what all men covet ; and covet exactly in proportion to 
 the fineness of theii* mental and moral fibre. It were 
 simply ignoble in us not to feel that " a good name is 
 rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor 
 rather than silver and gold." * And though the fine 
 things, which win the fine repute, are difiicult, they are 
 not impossible. Many a man will die obscure who 
 might have been a scholar, or an artist, or an orator, but 
 was not willing to pay the price. 
 
 There is learning enough in books, and severe study, 
 patiently prolonged, will surely compass it. There are 
 statues enough in the marble quarries ; and the patient 
 
 > Prov. xxiv. 30-34. ' Ps. cxxviL 8. 
 
 ' Prov. xxii. 1. 
 
126 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 chisel will find them by and by. Persuasive speech 
 lies slumbering in every pair of human lips ; and he 
 who will, may wake it. 
 
 But neither the scholar, the artist, nor the orator, 
 must be idle, or avaricious. The love of pleasure, and 
 the love of money are both of them fatal to these 
 higher aims. Learning grows puny and trivial, when 
 waited on by sensual delights ; while the love of gain 
 eats into it like rust. 
 
 So, too, of art. Growing either voluptuous, or sordid, 
 it falls Hke an angel from Heaven. And so of elo- 
 quence. It flies from lips that are steeped in pleas- 
 ure ; it will not quiver in fingers that clutch at gold- 
 The ambition of scholarship, of art, of eloquence, 
 is a lofty ambition, and it will not tolerate much 
 baseness. The scholars of antiquity were, for the most 
 part, severe and temperate men. The scholars of the 
 Middle Ages were the cloistered and ascetic monks. 
 The votaries of art, too, with rare exceptions, have 
 wasted away in martyrdom to their calling. While 
 Demosthenes, defying outward fortunes, and even fight- 
 ing against nature herself for the fiery baptism of elo- 
 quence, is the watchword of aspiring orators from age 
 to age. In a truly heroic life there is no peradventure. 
 It is always either doing or dying. 
 
 Thus it is that the Temple of Fame keeps a stern 
 sentinel standing ever at her gateway of Corinthian 
 brass. And every comer is challenged with such ques- 
 tions as these : Canst thou live on bread and m ater ? 
 Art thou wilhng to be poor ? If not, avaunt ! This is 
 no place for thee. Across this sacred threshold neither 
 lust nor avarice may ever pass. Only those can enter 
 
LIFE THBOUan DEATH 12T 
 
 here, who are prepared to work like slaves, fight like 
 gladiators, die like martyrs. 
 
 And so of all sorts of earthly good. Each sort has 
 its price ; and may be taken at that price. But two or 
 more sorts may not ordinarily be taken by one and the 
 same purchaser. The lower must be sacrificed to the 
 higher. The coarser must give place to the finer. 
 What pleases only for an hour must be despised, if we 
 would have that which may please us for a life-time. 
 Lust must wither before avarice ; and avarice before 
 ambition. 
 
 Such is the well-established method of our ordinary 
 life. Every step of our earthly progress is a sacrifice. 
 We gain by losing ; grow by dwindhng ; live by dying. 
 
 Our text, it is plain, is but an extension of this well- 
 established method to the entire range and circle of our 
 interests. What is seen to be true of earthly advan- 
 tages considered in reference to one another, is here 
 declared to be true of all these advantages together, 
 when considered in relation to the life eternal. This 
 world and the next world are set in opposition to each 
 other. Body and soul are put at variance. And all 
 that a man may win of worldly good, it is taught, he 
 must be ready to sacrifice, if need be, in order to save 
 his soul. Ton may call the demand a hard one ; but 
 all the analogies of our ordinary life endorse and favor 
 it. As pleasures are trampled on in the chase after 
 gain ; and gold has no glitter for a proudly aspiring eye ; 
 so is it no more than just and fair, that he who would 
 shine as a star in Heaven, should be willing to have his 
 light eclipsed and quenched on earth. Pleasure, money, 
 fame, each has its price ; and nobody complains of it. 
 
128 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 The soul, too, has its price. Its redemption is precious. 
 It may cost us all we are worth, and all we covet, to 
 save it. All we have in this world, all we are, and all 
 we aspire to, may have to be sacrificed. The life tem- 
 poral may have to be flung utterly away, in order to 
 make sure of the life eternal. The men who burnt Poly- 
 carp thought they were taking his life. They would 
 have taken it had they persuaded him to deny his Lord. 
 
 Not that martyrdom, or the self-denial that savors of 
 it, is required of every disciple. But the demand is 
 often made, and often met. Of how many followers 
 of Christ, in all ages, has it been required, that they 
 should spend their lives in a perfect wilderness of out- 
 ward want, affliction and sorrow. 
 
 The Church has had her hermits, dwelling in deserts, 
 feeding on roots, clad in the skins of beasts, worn out by 
 their nightly vigils, and dying at last with no dirge but 
 that of the piping winds, and no burial but that of the 
 forest leaves. Behold in this the perfect embodiment 
 of a life that abjures all pleasure ; making the body, 
 with all its uneasy appetites, a daily offering to God. 
 
 Poverty has also sometimes been enjoined. Thou- 
 sands have been placed in circumstances, which sternly 
 forbade their laboring for gain. And other thousands 
 have been called upon to take joyfully the spoiling ot 
 their goods. While time would fail me to speak of 
 those who have been summoned to the rack, the gibbet, 
 and the stake, and who amid agonies, at the very 
 thought of which our flesh must creep, have been com- 
 pelled to seal their testimony with their streaming 
 blood. And so it was that they boxight their souls ; 
 paying away their lives for them. 
 
LIFE THBOUan BEATH 129 
 
 What has happened once, may certainly happen 
 again. To each one of us it is possible for the time to 
 come, when personal comfort, when property, when life 
 itself, would all be crimes. The time may come, it is 
 concei/oable, when we should have no right to sit easy 
 in our sheltered homes ; no right to own a single dol- 
 lar ; no right to live another hour ; but when it would 
 have become our simple duty to be penniless, to be tor- 
 tured, and to die for Christ. Even now something of 
 this sort is still exacted. The Western Coast of Africa, 
 not long ago required exploring, for freedom's sake and 
 the Gospel's ; and Mills and Ashmun went there, to 
 pant beneath the burning sun, be parched by fever, and 
 die for Christendom. The wilds of Sumatra, haunted 
 by cannibals, begged also to be trod by missionary 
 feet ; and Lyman and Munson humed thither to the 
 sacrifice. 
 
 In many dark corners of the earth are sitting men 
 to-day, who have abandoned almost everything for 
 Christ. And their feeling is that they have barely 
 done their duty : that a necessity is laid upon them ; 
 that they must suffer for Christ ; and by and by die 
 for Him. And the stem warrant for it all is in our 
 text : " He that findeth his life, shall lose it ; and he 
 that loseth his life for My sake, shall find it." 
 
 God be praised, if we, in our sphere, are spared the 
 fullest execution of this warrant. The spwit of it, 
 however, we may never wish to escape. Our hearts 
 are to hold themselves always ready for the fiercest dis- 
 cipline. Personal ease and comfort, bouses and lands, 
 friends, reputation, and even life itself, are to be reck- 
 oned cheap. We are to hold them in low esteem. So 
 
130 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 relaxed must be our grasp, that the slightest breath of 
 persecution may suffice to sweep them swiftly and clean 
 away. Towards Christ's voice, the moment we hear 
 Him calling to us, must we wend our way, though it 
 be through distress and beggary and death itself. Only 
 he that loseth his life shall find it. 
 
 II. The second law referred to, and the counterpart 
 of the one we have now considered, is this : 
 
 By "first securing the higher good, we are prepared 
 properly to enjoy the lower, and are more likely to se- 
 cure it. 
 
 The full development and application of this law 
 would require more time than I have now at command. 
 I can only indicate at present the points, that might be 
 dwelt upon. The principle is, that no worldly good of 
 any sort can be well secured, or properly enjoyed, if 
 pursued by itself and for its own sake. This may be 
 seen in our most ordinary life. 
 
 The man, whose aim is pleasure, may, indeed, secure 
 it for a while ; but only for a while. It soon palls upon 
 his senses, disgusts and wearies him. It is easy of 
 proof, that more is really enjoyed, more of mere pleas- 
 ure is there, among business men, in the brief intervals 
 of business, than among those with whom pleasure may 
 be said to be a profession. Pleasure, in a word, is far 
 sweeter as a recreation than a business. 
 
 And so of gold. The man who strains all his ener- 
 gies of soul and body to the acquisition of it, never 
 properly enjoys it. He enjoys the OiCti/oity, which the 
 cJiaae imposes upon him ; but not the gold itself. He 
 best enjoys gold, because he best knows the uses of it. 
 
LIFE TKROUan DEATH 13] 
 
 who is occupied by higher thoughts and aims. Girard 
 was a man, from all accounts, of very sordid charac- 
 ter. It was his very eagerness for gold, which forbade 
 his enjoyment of it. Had he possessed the learning of 
 a Franklin, the taste of an Allston, or the philanthropy 
 of an Edwards, or of a Wesley, how would his mill- 
 ions have gladdened him. He might have founded 
 hospitals and universities, encouraged artists, and sent 
 Bibles, books, and missionaries of the Cross, streaming 
 from pole to pole. It is God's decree, that gold shin- 
 ing useless in a miser's coffers, shall never gladden the 
 one who gathered it. 
 
 And so also of fame. If pursued for its own sake, 
 the chase is often a bootless one. Selfish ambition al- 
 most always betrays itself, and then it provokes men to 
 defeat and humble it. To be too eager for applause is 
 pretty surely, in most cases, to miss of it. The best 
 way to win renown is not to work for it, not to think 
 of it ; but to work for something higher ; to work for 
 God. and work for man, forgetting self, and, by and 
 by, it will be found that both God and man are helping 
 us. He that most utterly forgets himself is the one 
 most surely and most warmly remembered by the 
 world. 
 
 General Zachary Taylor, the twelfth President of the 
 United States, spent forty years of his life in compara- 
 tively obscure, but very faithful service, at our Western 
 outposts; receiving no applause from the country at 
 large, and asking for none; intent only upon doing 
 promptly and efficiently the duties laid upon him. By 
 and by events, over which he had exercised no control, 
 called him into notice upon a broader theatre. And 
 
132 BTEBNAL ATONEMBNT 
 
 then it was discovered how faithful and how true a 
 man he was. The Eepublic, grateful for such a series 
 of self-denying and important services, snatched him 
 from the camp, and bore him, with loud acclaim, to 
 her proudest place of honor. And this was done at 
 the cost of bitterest disappointment to more than one, 
 whos^ high claims to this distinction were not denied, 
 but who had been known to be aspiring to the exalted 
 seat. 
 
 And so through our whole earthly life — ^in all its 
 spheres, and in all its struggles. To lose is to find ; to 
 die is to Uve. 
 
 It is so also in our religion. We begin by abjuring 
 aU ; we end by enjoying all. He that loves God with 
 all his heart, and serves Him with all his powers, work- 
 ing here, with a self-forgetting devotion, in the world 
 where God has planted him, willing to forego pleasure, 
 gain, renown, and eveiything for Christ, shall find 
 that everything comes back to him. If not in its ma- 
 terial falnesB, yet in its essential strength and spirit. 
 His outward pleasures may be few ; but they shall be 
 sweet. He may be poor ; but feel that he has enough. 
 He may have no vulgar applause to intoxicate him; 
 but shall know that he is honored in the inmost hearts 
 of men. 
 
 The pious merchant, fearing God, and scorning to 
 take advantage of other men's necessities to surfeit 
 himself with gains, is overtaken by sad reverses, and 
 his fortune becomes a wreck. But who ever yet saw 
 the righteous forsaken, or his seed begging bread? ' 
 
 The great mass of the clergy of Protestant Christen- 
 • Ps. xxxvii. 25. 
 
LIFE THBOUOH DEATH 133 
 
 dom are poor : laboring for hardly more than a suste- 
 nance ; violating all those rules of prudence by which 
 other men are governed and fed and sheltered. But 
 God somehow feedeth them ; and their children are 
 somehow provided for. 
 
 Devoted men, not counting their lives dear to them, 
 push their way into the darkest corners of heathendom. 
 But the Church keeps her eye upon every solitary man 
 among them, and benefactions go after them as unerr- 
 ing almost as the bountiful providence of God. 
 
 Thus in all directions, we get but little of the earthly 
 good we are after, by going directly for it. But each 
 lower good seems involved in the higher good ; and by 
 reaching after the higher we secure the lower ; while 
 earthly advantages, as a whole, are real blessings only 
 to him, who is willing and able to do without them. 
 The way to gain them is to lose them. 
 
 Am I charged with preaching that " gain is godli- 
 ness " ? ' Not so, my friend. But godhness is gain. 
 It begins by denouncing and denying all ; it ends by 
 restoring all. First it desolates; and then it rebuilds. 
 Its mien, in approaching us, is stern and terrible. It 
 blights our pleasures; strips us of our possessions; 
 ismites our friends ; and lays our vaunted honors in the 
 dust. And then, when all is done, when the desolating 
 work is finished, when our very lives are spent and 
 worried out of us, the scene changes as by a miracle, 
 and all is given us anew. God, we find, is not merely 
 in all; but He mcludes all, is all. And we learn, 
 assuredly, from our own blessed experience, that "no 
 
 ' 1 Tim. vi. 6. 
 
134 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 good thing will He withhold from them that walk up- 
 rightly." ' 
 
 Nay, it is of the very essence of our religion to for- 
 get and deny ourselves. What we call an experience 
 of religion consists pre-eminently in sacrificing and giv- 
 ing ourselves away to God. The anxious inquirer, it is 
 trne, is anxious about his own happiness ; he is seeking 
 to save his own souL But in the moment of conver- 
 sion and regeneration, he forgets himself, and casts 
 himself without reserve and without a question into 
 the hands of God ; to be done with in "all things as God 
 shall please. And then, in that instant, it seems as 
 though the windows of Heaven are opened, and the 
 soul lies deluged in joys unutterable. 
 
 Two remarks seem to grow naturally oat of our 
 subject. 
 
 1. We may learn the great mistake committed by 
 men of the world in their chase after worldly good. 
 They make it an end. Pleasure, gain, and applause are 
 objects with them of direct and eager pursuit. Just as 
 though these things were in themselves desirable, and 
 could certainly be gained, and be made productive of a 
 solid and abiding joy. The path in which they are 
 thus moving, is not the right one. The world, pursued 
 by itself, will only defraud and mock them. They must 
 reverse the present order of their lives. They must 
 leam to seek first the Kingdom of God. They must 
 abandon themselves to the service of Christ. Then, 
 perhaps, it may please God to prosper them. At any 
 rate, they may be sure He will give them that measure 
 of good, which it will be safest and best for them to 
 1 Fa, Izsxiv. 11. 
 
LIFE THROTJQH DEATH 135 
 
 receive. They will thus save their lives by losing 
 them. 
 
 2. We may learn why it is the happiness of Chris- 
 tians is so imperfect. 
 
 They have only partially denied themselves ; are only 
 partially resigned to the love and service of their 
 Maker. Hence they are still in part devoted to the 
 world, and fettered by it. Not tiU the last link is sun- 
 dered, and their souls entirely absorbed in Christ, can 
 they attain to a perfect joy. Not tUl they are wholly 
 dead, can they wholly live. 
 
IX 
 
 THE LAW OF USE 
 
THE LAW OF USE* 
 
 "For Tie that Tuifh, to Am shall be given; and he that hath not, 
 from Mm shall be taken even that which he hath." — ^Mabk iv. 35 
 
 This, apparently, was not one of the popular proverbs 
 of the day. It is not to be found in the Talmud, nor 
 in any of the Apocryphal books. But it has the char- 
 acteristic pith of a proverb. It occurs three times 
 among the reported sayings of our Lord. First we find 
 it in connection with the Parable of the Sower — a Gal- 
 ilean parable, uttered a year and a half before the Cru- 
 cifixion. Then the lesson was : Take heed how ye 
 hear. Hearing and doing should go together. Knowl- 
 edge that is practical, blossoming out into character, 
 shaU keep on growing from knowledge to knowledge, 
 more and more. But knowledge that never blossoms 
 into character, shall by and by cease even to be knowl- 
 edge. The tree that bears no fruit shall not be fruitless 
 only ; it shall rot and die. 
 
 This same expression occurs again in the Parable of 
 the Ten Pounds, uttered at Jericho the Friday before 
 the Crucifixion ; and still again in the Parable of the 
 Talents, uttered in Jerusalem only two days before the 
 Crucifixion. Such reiteration is impressive. The idea 
 
 ' Preached before the cadets at West Point, May 38, 1883. Ako 
 at the University of Vermont, June 34, 1883. 
 
 (139) 
 
140 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 is that having is something quite other than mere pass- 
 ive possession — the upturned, nerveless palm of beg- 
 gary. Having, real having, is eager, instant, active 
 possession, the sinewy grip. Having is using. Any- 
 thing not used is already the same as lost. It will be 
 lost by and by. In this sense of having, the more we 
 have, the more we get ; and the less we have, the less 
 we get. This is law, universal law. It may seem hard. 
 But gravitation is hard, if disobeyed, though it holds 
 the planets to their paths, and makes the music of the 
 spheres. 
 
 L This law of use hsphysiad law. 
 
 A mere machine when completed, and put in running 
 order, has its whole power determined by the toughness 
 of its materials. Protected against the elements, a 
 steam-engine or a chronometer might last forever, if 
 never used. Put to use, it wears out by and by. 
 
 But the human body is a piece of organic mechanism. 
 Activity is essential even to the full development of 
 the organism. A tree may grow where no wind ever 
 shakes it. But a child's growth is always that of an 
 athlete. Abundant exercise, inspired by a sleepless 
 brain, incessantly moulds the limbs and organs of the 
 body into beautiful roundness and robustness. 
 
 And then, in bodies well matured, there are many 
 degrees of strength, less or more, precisely according 
 to the use made of it. Exercise, to be sure, may be 
 overdone, as in training for athletic contests. But, on 
 the other hand, muscular force gains nothing by being 
 husbanded. Having is using. And to him that hath, 
 shall be given. He shall grow stronger and stronger. 
 
THE LAW OF USE 141 
 
 What is diflBcult, perhaps impossible to-day, shall be 
 easy to-morrow. He that keeps on day by day lifting 
 the calf, shall lift the bullock by and by. 
 
 More than this. Only he that uses shall even so 
 much as keep. Unemployed strength steadily dimin- 
 ishes. The sluggard's arm grows soft and flabby. 
 
 So, even in this lowest sphere, the law is inexorable^ 
 Having is using. Not using is losing. Idleness is pa- 
 ralysis. 
 
 II. This law of use is commercial law. 
 
 Whoever indolently inherits an estate, never really 
 comes into possession of it. And the chances are, de- 
 cidedly, that he will lose it altogether, substance and 
 title. Heal possession is muscular. The toil, care, 
 sagacity, and self-denial required in getting property, 
 are precisely the toil, care, sagacity, and self-denial 
 required in keeping it. ISTay, keeping is harder than 
 getting, a great deal harder. Wise investments often 
 require a genius like that of great generalship. Busi- 
 ness, easily managed at first, lias a tendency to outgrow 
 the capacity of its originators, and so they break down 
 nnder it. They simply cannot master it, and so it mas- 
 ters them. 
 
 Most of our famous merchants of to-day, of yester- 
 day, are, or were, the architects of their own fortunes. 
 Wealth goes down easily enough into the second gen- 
 eration, but not so easily into the third, and still less 
 easily into the fourth. We take a tremendous risk in 
 bequeathing fortunes to our children. Unless the chil- 
 dren have been very carefully trained in the art of get- 
 ting, they probably have not learned the art of keeping 
 
142 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 And their children, very likely, will have to begin, 
 where their grandfathers began, at the bottom, and do 
 it all over again. 
 
 Charles Lamb, in one of his essays, expresses pity for 
 the poor, dull, thriftless fellow who wrapped his pound 
 np in a napkin. But the poor fellow was also to be 
 blamed. Those ten servants, who had the ten pounds 
 given them, were commanded to trade therewith till 
 the master came. 
 
 m. This law of use is mental law. 
 
 Even knowledge, like the manna of old, must needs 
 be fresh. It will not keep. The successful teacher is 
 always the diligent and eager learner. Just when he 
 has nothing new to say, just then his authority begins 
 to wane. 
 
 Much more is mental activity essential to mental 
 force. In every kind of pursuit, idleness is rust and 
 impotency. We sometimes talk of retiring from bus- 
 iness, or giving up om- profession by and by. We 
 dream of unyoking oar tense, tired faculties, and sit- 
 ting on the veranda to see the sun go down. Of 
 course we cannot work so hard late in the afternoon, 
 and towards evening, but we had better work the day 
 out. The place to die is on the field of battle with the 
 harness on, and the i-attle of musketry in the air. 
 
 It is related of Tborwaldsen that when at last he 
 finished a statue that satisfied him, he told his friends 
 that his genius was leaving him. Having reached a 
 point beyond which he could push no further, his in- 
 stinct told him that he had already begun to fail. So 
 it proved. The summit of his fame was no broad 
 
THE LAW OF USE I43 
 
 plateau, but a sharp Alpine ridge. The last step up 
 had to be quickly followed by the first step down. It 
 is so in everything. A man might as well order the 
 robe he expects to be buried in, as to let his laurels 
 satisfy him. ISew triumphs must only dictate new 
 struggles. If it be Alexander of Macedon, the Oronttis 
 must suggest the Euphrates, and the Euphrates the 
 Indus. Always it must be on and on. One night of 
 rioting in Babylon may arrest the conquering march. 
 Genius is essentially athletic, resolute, aggressive, per- 
 sistent. Possession is grip, that tightens more and 
 more. Ceasing to gain, we begin to lose. Ceasing to 
 advance, we begin to retrograde. Brief was the inter- 
 val between Eoman conquest of Barbarians, and Barbar 
 rian conquest of Home. Blessed is the man who keeps 
 out of the hospital, and holds his place in the ranks. 
 Blessed the man, the last twang of whose bowstring is 
 as sharp as any that went before, sending its arrow as 
 surely to the mark. 
 
 lY. This law of use is also moral law. 
 
 Here lies the secret of character. There is no such 
 thing as standing still. There is no such thing as 
 merely holding one's own. Only the swimmer floats. 
 Only the conqueror is unconquered. 
 
 Undoubtedly, for every one of us some places are 
 morally safer than others. But equally true is it, that 
 place is of much less account than personality. One 
 man may be safe almost anywhere. Another man may 
 be safe nowhere. Sooner or later, we are tempted, some 
 in one way, some in another. And character, at last, 
 is not inheritance, nor happy accident, but hardest bat- 
 
144: ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 tie and victoiy. The supreme peril and crisis are out 
 of sight. Externally, the new and strange are more 
 seductive and dangerous than the old and familiar; 
 the new places, the new employments, the new com- 
 panions. 
 
 I see one of oar city boys on his way to school 
 somewhere in the country. He carries with him the 
 traditions of a high-toned, well-ordered, happy home. 
 The vices seem vulgar to him. But he has gone away 
 from the old defenses of refined habit and example. 
 He becomes all at once his own guardian. He and the 
 other boys, cut off from the old amenities, and closely 
 drawn together by this new experience, are more to one 
 another than any teacher, or teachers, can be to them. 
 They begin to mould one another. The coarsest boy 
 speaks first, and loudest, and oftenest. Some profane 
 word elicits no rebuke. Some impure word provokes 
 no cry of shame. The finer boys are cowards ; and the 
 coarser boys carry the day. Or else the finer boys get 
 the courage of their convictions, and the coarser boys 
 are cowed and conquered. 
 
 I see another boy on his way in the opposite direc- 
 tion, from country to city. He brings with him the 
 best of testimonials. He comes out of no Paradise, to 
 be sure ; but now he sees more of human nature, and 
 of human life, in a week, than he used to see in a year. 
 From country to city is like some great change in lat- 
 itude, and soil, and climate. As in going to the trop- 
 ics, so here also the senses are stormed and captured, 
 Luxuries, once only imagined, as a Greenlander might 
 imagine an orange-grove, are now always in sight. 
 Gains, that once seemed fabulous, are now the common 
 
THE LAW OF USB I45 
 
 talk of the street, the office, and the club. Something 
 is in the air that poisons the blood like malaria. The 
 muscles relax. The will relaxes. And, before we 
 think of it, there is the old story, the old sad story, of 
 mere passive and pliant goodness brought to bitter grief 
 and shame. Or else, the danger is overcome, and the 
 manhood of the man escapes unhurt; like the three 
 young Hebrews out of the furnace in Babylon, like 
 Daniel out of the lions' den. 
 
 The fact is, evil never abdicates, never goes off on a 
 vacation, never sleeps. Every day, every one of us 
 is ambushed and assaulted ; and what we become, is 
 simply our defeat, or victory. Not to be crowned vic- 
 tor, is to pass under the yoke. 
 
 If prayer be, what Tertullian has pictured it, tlie 
 watch-cry of a soldier under arms, guarding the tent 
 and standard of his General, then the habit of it ought 
 to be growing on us. For the night is round about us, 
 and, though the stars are out, our enemies are not 
 asleep. 
 
 If the Bible be what we say it is, then we should 
 know it better and better. The longer we live, and the 
 more we look beneath the surface of things, the more 
 there is of mystery. If this human race is not a wretch- 
 ed foundling on the cold door-stone of a godless uni- 
 verse ; if civilization is not a cruel mockery ; if want, 
 and crime, and sorrow are ever lessened ; if an accusing 
 conscience is ever pacified ; if the friends we lose are 
 not moving out into fearful darkness and silence, it is 
 this one Book, with its unique philosophy, that reas- 
 sures us. ISTo matter now about either the chronology, 
 or the authorship, of its several parts. "Written by men 
 
146 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 still it has God for its author, unfathomable depths of 
 wisdom for its contents, and for its shining goal the 
 battlements and towers of the Ifew Jerusalem. 
 
 So of all the virtues and graces. They will not take 
 care of themselves. Self-denial and self-control, as 
 against self-seeking and self-indulgence ; absolute, chiv- 
 »]ri: integrity, as against the sharpness of the market ; 
 anshaken faith in God and man, in spite of all the 
 mystery and meanness of life ; the one simple purpose 
 of loyal, steadfast stewardship and service in our day 
 and generation ; these neither come unasked, nor stay 
 unurged. Easy things are of little worth. The spon- 
 taneities are mostly bad ; mere weeds and briers. Eeal 
 goodness is as much an industry, as much a business, 
 as any profession, trade, or pursuit of men. Every 
 morning early, and then again at nine o'clock, and then 
 at twelve, and then at three, and then at five, the owner 
 of the vineyard is in the market-places, hiring his 
 laborers. The early, lost hours are forgiven us, but 
 when the bargain is once made, there is nothing for us 
 but work till the great red sun goes burning down. 
 
 For the whole Church, in its organic life, the law is 
 just the same. King David conquers out in every 
 possible direction, north, east, and south. Solomon, 
 settling down to the enjoyment of inherited dominion, 
 loses the paternal conquests, bequeathing to his son a 
 kingdom doomed already to dismemberment. So must 
 the Church be always militant just so long as any 
 body, 01 any thing, in this world remains unchristian. 
 The whole movement is one tremendous charge, as of 
 the old Imperial Guard at Waterloo. The moment it 
 halts, it staggers, and the day is lost. Just the same 
 
THM LAW OF USE 14Y 
 
 number of Bibles published, just the same number of 
 Evangelists ordained, neither more nor fewer, is a famine 
 of the word. Just so much money given, neither more 
 nor less, is robbery. Not to advance, all along the line, 
 advancing, pushing our battle-flags deeper and deeper 
 into the smoke, charging on from shock to shock of 
 fiery onset, from shout to shout of ringing triumph, is 
 no better than to turn on our heels and run. And now 
 the time has come for a new departure. 
 
 All through this nineteenth century Christendom 
 has put its supreme vitality into Outer Missions. The 
 hour soon will sti-ike when Inner Missions must every- 
 where take the lead. It were well that India, China, 
 Japan, and all the Orient should be nominally Chris- 
 tian. But our children and our children's children will 
 have to see to it that Christendom itself is Christian. 
 Wealth, learning, every adornment, every advantage, 
 will shortly be called to judgment. And, from the 
 rising to the setting sun, nothing selfish and barren shall 
 keep its place on this continent, or on any other. It is 
 no good sign that we hear so much said about classes of 
 men : such as the wealthy, the learned, and the religi- 
 ous classes. The millions are already asking. What is 
 the use of wealth ? What is the use of learning ? What 
 is the use of religion ? Men of wealth must be public- 
 spirited. Men of learning must know how to teach. 
 Men of faith must be men of works. 
 
 Such is the law : always the law, everywhere the law. 
 The world we live in is a world of evil forces, and of 
 evil, growths. Evil is in the air, and in the blood. But 
 Christianity, thank God, is no mere ceremonial, no 
 mere scholasticism. It is a great historic presence, 
 
148 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 reality, and power ; a severe but splendid regimen of 
 life. Its law is not simple growth, as of the palm-tree, 
 but conflict, as of armies. And every battle declined, 
 as well as every battle drawn, is a battle lost. He that 
 hath, to him shall be given ; and he that hath not, from 
 him shall be taken even that which he hath. 
 
 Be it remembered, however, that every.gain is a vital 
 factor. Interest changes constantly to capital, and 
 changes rapidly. The progression is swiftly geometri • 
 cal. It is the beginning always that costs. 
 
 The poor invalid, after long confinement, is borne 
 out to the carriage for a morning drive. If it agrees 
 with him, the half hour to-day may be doubled to-mor- 
 row. 
 
 In toil or trade, no dollar comes so hard as the first 
 one. The next two or ten come easier ; and more and 
 more easy all along. As fortunes grow, it is not merely 
 the aggregate that tells, but every part and fraction of 
 the aggregate gains in power as the aggregate itself in- 
 creases. The poor man's dollar is just as good as the 
 rich man's dollar, only when they are both anonymous. 
 A dollar with millions behind it is of course worth more, 
 because it will accomplish more than a dollar that has 
 only thousands behind it. A bid from Kothschild elec- 
 trifies the market. 
 
 Some new man, of whom we had never heard before, 
 speaks with learning and power. "We are charmed; 
 but after all, not quite sure of his reserves. Perhaps 
 he has put himself wholly into that one effort and will 
 disappoint us the next time. The old champion is 
 backed by the memory of many triumphs. We know 
 him by the very nodding of his plume. 
 
TEE LAW OF USE 149 
 
 A solitary virtue in some human life, if such a thing 
 were possible, would be a forlorn and dreary sight : 
 like a shaft of granite in a sandy waste, or a single bird 
 in a silent sky. Thank God, the virtues go together : 
 like trees in a forest ; like birds in white-winged flocks, 
 filling the whole sky with song. 
 
 To the young men now pursuing their studies in this 
 beautiful retreat ' of fine, honest, and intrepid scholar- 
 ship, I beg leave to say in conclusion these three 
 things. First, the chief end of discipline is high per- 
 sonal character. Second, character is triumph over 
 temptation. Third, the surest conservative of character 
 is service. 
 
 Finally, let me emphasize, by repeating, the two 
 great lessons of our text. 
 
 The first is, that beginnings are difficult : all begin- 
 nings, but especially in character ; difiicult by reason of 
 bad appetites and passions. Whoso makes no effort to 
 stem the tide of appetite and passion, drifts on to ruin. 
 The best habits are not the ones most easily formed, 
 " He that hath ! " It is a great thing to home. 
 
 The second lesson is, that gaius and losses grow al- 
 ways more rapid and easy. Character grows always 
 steadily less and less conscious of its own determina- 
 tions. Moses knew not that his face shone. Samson 
 knew not that his strength was gone. Bad habit be- 
 gins easily enough. Good habit begins with effort, as 
 one would climb a steep mountain, or lift a heavy gate 
 from its hinges. But it ends in second nature. And 
 
 ' University of Vermont, Burlington, Vermont, where this ser- 
 mon was delivered, before the College Toung Men's Christian As- 
 sociation, at its anniversary, June 24, 1883. 
 
iSO BTBBMAL ATONEMENT 
 
 the dividing Kne is crossed as silently as the tide swings, 
 coming in this Instant, going out the next ; as silent- 
 ly as the sun crosses the Equator, northward and 
 southward, carrying summer with it, leaving winter 
 behind it. 
 
X 
 
 THE COST OF SERVICE 
 
THE COST OF SERVICE^ 
 
 ' 'But Jesus said. Some one did touch me : for I perceived that power 
 had gone forth from Me." — Luke viii. 46. 
 
 OtTE Lord was on His way to the house of Jairus in 
 Capernaum, to perform one of His three great miracles 
 of giving life to the dead. In the crowd that thronged 
 Him, some one touched the fringe of His mantle, and 
 there was wrought what we may call an unpurposed, 
 passive miracle. Our Lord knew it in an instant : not 
 of His omniscience, not because the crowd had jostled 
 Him ; but because the unpurposed, passive miracle had 
 taxed His gracious vitality and force. Power had gone 
 out of Him, just as consciously as though there had 
 been a distinct volition. The unpurposed miracle had 
 cost. Miracles always cost — purposed, or unpurposed. 
 Everything costs, which has any real worth; costs in 
 proportion to its worth, and costs all it is worth. This 
 law of cost may serve not unfitly, I hope, the occasion 
 which has now called us together. 
 
 I. In nature, we have what has lately been termed 
 
 ' This address, delivered at the forty-eighth Anniversary of the 
 Union Theological Seminary, is allowed a place in this collection 
 of sermons, because of certain peculiar theological conceptions, 
 •which are further elaborated in the following sermons, and which 
 entitle it to rank with them. 
 
 '153) 
 
154 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 the pei-sistence, or conservation of force. It is only a 
 new name for an old familiar fact. Creation occurred 
 and ceased, began and ended, ages ago. Since then, 
 throngh all the vast cycles, nothing has been added to 
 the sum total of things ; and nothing has been taken 
 away. Nothing absolutely new has come ; nothing old 
 has utterly gone. Essentially, nothing has begnn to 
 be; and nothing has really ceased to be. Since the 
 primal creative fiat, when the morning stars sang to- 
 gether, not an atom has been produced ; not an atom 
 has perished. Probably not an atom ever will perish. 
 Substance, essence, or whatever we may choose to call 
 it, seems to be permanent and sacred. Only the form* 
 of things are changing: water into cloud or steam, 
 wood, and coal, and oil into flame, and smoke, and 
 ashes. And these forms of things are constantly chang- 
 ing; and every change is an exchange, demanding a 
 prompt and full equivalent. Action must equal the 
 desired reaction. The sun warms our planet, making 
 summer and harvests for us, only by burning up ; just 
 as you warm your parlor by emptying the coal-bin. 
 Sunshine is a chemical experiment on a gigantic scale, 
 tremendously expensive. The experiment cannot go 
 on forever. The sun will be a cinder some day; as 
 the earth is already, and had to be, in order that we 
 might dwell upon it. The coal we consume in our 
 grates is the condensation of vast primeval forests, stored 
 away in our subterranean cellar. Changing the figure, 
 our globe is sailing on throngh space, like some huge 
 ocean steamer, whose capacity for coal is strictly 
 limited. When the coal gives out, the voyage ends. 
 Or, changing again the figure, the whole solar system 
 
THE COST OF SEliVIOE 155 
 
 is a kind of eight-day clock, which keeps good time, 
 and strikes the hours aright, but can never wind itself 
 up. Perpetual motion is possible only to pure spirit. 
 The water that turns our wheels, runs ofE in turning 
 thera ; and the wheels must have more water. Steam, 
 that now drives so much of our machinery, is only the 
 same old water in another form, doing its work under 
 the lash of flame. In either case, it does its work, and 
 straightway disappears ; whether falling in crude mass 
 upon the wheel-boards, or, with hot breath, driving the 
 piston in its cylinder. Force is always simply product ; 
 material multiplied by motion. Electricity, the finest 
 of all our mechanical forces, is still only mechanical, 
 and so is no exception to this law of cost, action and 
 reaction, taking and giving. Galvanic batteries re- 
 quire feeding just as much as furnaces. From nothing, 
 nothing comes. Life itself, our own organic life, in 
 the last analysis, is conflagration. Comparative physi- 
 ology may promise something beyond the four -score 
 years ; promising, perhaps, a hundred by and by. But 
 conflagration must be fed. Withhold fuel, and the fire 
 goes out. Keep the blast on day and night, summer 
 and winter, and you will stop a long way short of the 
 four-score years. Bank your fires regularly, and early, 
 every night, and run your engine lightly in the sum- 
 mer, and you may see many good years this side the 
 stars. But, inevitably, the fire goes out at last. The 
 dust returns to the earth as it was, that the spirit may 
 return unto God who gave it. 
 
 II. This law of cost is also economic law. 
 
 In agriculture, what we call the bounty of nature, 
 
156 ETERNAL ATOimMENT 
 
 the gift outright, comes a long way short of what is 
 needed even for merest comfort. The spontaneous 
 products of nature are scanty. Every nomad excludes 
 ten civilized men. Every savage excludes ten nomads. 
 And so, as between the civilized and the savage, the 
 ratio is a hundred to one. But this means work. Sun- 
 shine and rain of course there must be. But civiliza- 
 tion means a good deal more than sunshine and rain. 
 It means intelligence, economy, and thrift ; it means 
 early rising, calculation, sagacity, self-denial, the sweat 
 of the brow moistening the furrows. Corn harvested 
 in September means corn planted in April, and cared 
 for all the summer long. There must also be something 
 more than machinery and muscle. The land must be 
 generously fed that is expected to feed us ; and must 
 be coaxed and humored by well-advised rotation and 
 variety of crops. Crops that tire and exhaust the soil 
 by ripening their seeds, must alternate with restfnl roots 
 and herbage. Land is cheap in Africa, but even there 
 costs all it is worth. Ninety-nine hundredths of what 
 it is worth with us, is human. 
 
 So of all industry and useful art. To begin with, 
 there is the cost of raw material, come whence it may, 
 from earth, or sea, or air. Houses, and their Amish- 
 ing, tax the quarries, the clay-yards and the forests. 
 Our wardrobes suggest cotton-fields, flax-fields, silk- 
 worms, flocks of sheep, herds of cattle, birds of the 
 air, wild animals of sea and land, from pole to pole. 
 Even wigwams and bearskins are no gratuities. Every 
 coarsest want supplied, every adornment, every luxiuy, 
 means work. Good things, fine things, cost. 
 
 Commerce explains itself. It is the interchange of 
 
THE COST OF SEHYIGJE 157 
 
 things that have cost. You have more than jou want 
 of some one thing, of several things, it may be; and I 
 liave more than I want of some other thing, or things. 
 We exchange our superfluities ; and we are both of us 
 the better for it. This is trade. It began certainly 
 later than agriculture, later, perhaps, than useful art; 
 and 3'et it began a long way back, almost as far back 
 as anything human began. And from earliest Phoeni- 
 cian times till now, commerce has never failed to lead 
 the historic march. It has discovered the new con- 
 tinents, created the new industries, widened the whole 
 hoiTzon of intelligence and sympathy. Its cost is meas- 
 ured by the heavy percentage of its failures. As be- 
 tween nations and races of men, superior and inferior, 
 as also between what we call the higher and lower 
 classes of men everywhere, the painful thing about in- 
 dustry and commerce is, at bottom, the inequality of 
 advantage. Inferior races and peoples, of course, must 
 suffer somewhat under the best conditions. Amongst 
 all peoples there must be gi-aded wages for graded 
 work. Unskilled labor, requiring only brawny muscle, 
 cannot equitably claim the wages of skilled labor, 
 which taxes the brain, and requires the drill of a long 
 apprenticeship. But selfish brain takes sharp advan- 
 tage of brawny muscle ; and capital takes advantage of 
 labor, till labor is disheartened, and angered into riot 
 and revolution. The dominant civilization calls itself 
 Christian, but has too little in it of the Sermon on the 
 Mount. Christianity is embarrassed in being obliged 
 to apologize for Christendom. Our worst foes of social 
 order are the ostentatious, sybaritic, and selfish rich. 
 The apostles of a safer and better future are the nien 
 
158 ETERNAL ATOWEMEMT 
 
 who preach, and who practise, a liberal exchange, who 
 believe in fair equivalents, who sincerely respect all 
 honest industries, who make all trade, not a sharp bat- 
 tle between contending interests, but only a generous 
 rivalry, a fraternal conference, a real congress of classes, 
 of nations, and of races. 
 
 IIL This law of cost is also mental law. 
 
 Mind is very much more than mere passive capacity • 
 it is vital, organizing force. Its two cardinal functions 
 of learning and teaching are very closely related to each 
 other. The word learning is not always a noun. It 
 renders its first and best service as an active present 
 participle. It is the much study, described long ago as 
 a weariness of the flesh. Learning, rightly apprehend- 
 ed, is not mere passive reception, as of water into a cis- 
 tern, bringing with it all the accidents and impurities 
 of roof or aqueduct. It is water in oak, or elm, making 
 its way up through living tissue, filtered as it ascends, 
 shaking out its leafy banner, hardening into toughest 
 fibre. Every Egyptian traveller visits in Cairo the 
 famous Mohammedan schools, where boys learn to re- 
 cite the ninety-nine beautiful names of Allah, the 
 ninety-nine prayers, and all the hundred and fourteen 
 chapters of the Koran. These schools turn out good 
 Mohammedans, but nothing more. The discipline has 
 cost too little. It has taxed only the memory, our 
 poorest faculty. It is enly an alert and athletic disci- 
 pline that tells. Every faculty must be roused, in. 
 formed, and driven to do its best. How one man sur- 
 passes another, is not always easily explained. Brains, 
 of conrse, differ, both in volume, and especially in 
 
THE COST OF SEBVIOE 159 
 
 fibre. Temperaments differ. Opportunities differ. 
 But the final strategic secret is in the wilh The best 
 scliolarship, other things being equal, waits always upon 
 the most inflamed and steady purpose. In ancient 
 Christian art, Matthew was the man, Mark the lion, Luke 
 the ox, and John the eagle. The symbolism is most 
 suggestive. Christian scholarship must emulate them 
 all. Insight, courage, endurance, aspiration : these are 
 the four evangelists of a successful ministry. Omni- 
 science has a joy of its own. But for the finite mind 
 there can be no greater benediction than that of the 
 endless search. 
 
 Teaching also must be athletic. Only that teaching 
 is worth much that costs much ; and the more it costs, 
 the more it is worth. He was a shrewd educator, teach- 
 er and scholar both in one, who, whenever he wished to 
 learn a new language, advertised for a pupil in that lan- 
 guage. He ran no risk, since, with his antecedents of 
 knowledge and discipline, he could easily keep well 
 ahead of his pupil ; while his pupil had the great ad- 
 vantage of being led by one whose knowledge was all 
 so fresh, so pertinent, and so practical. I have heard of 
 men, of whom it was said, that they were too learned to 
 be good teachers. That must depend largely upon the 
 grade of teaching required. Men far on in the calcu- 
 lus may be impatient of algebra. Laplace certainly 
 might have made the Mecanique Celeste more easy, 
 and so might have had more pupils ; but he magnetized 
 the few that were able to follow him. In Berlin, I 
 saw Encke lecturing to three or four enthusiasts in 
 astronomy. They found him magnetic enough. What- 
 ever the department, whatever tho grade, whatever the 
 
160 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 number of pupils, the teacher must be also, and always, 
 a learner. When at last, if ever, he has nothing fresh 
 to communicate, the time has come for him to resign. 
 Antiquities should be consigned to the museum. Lidng 
 issues are importunate in clamoring for living and grow- 
 ing men to handle them. 
 
 IV. Bat this law of cost is pre-eminently spiritual 
 
 The so-called passive virtues either are not virtues, or 
 are not passive. Humility, patience, self-denial, and 
 the forgiveness of injuries, are battles and victories. 
 This brings us face to face with the appalling problem 
 of moral evil, one of the great mysteries, not of time 
 only, but of eternity. It is of our theological poverty 
 and hardness, that we have narrowed God down so 
 severely, and shut Him up so jealously, to the pater- 
 nity merely of goodness. The more imperial thinkers 
 have not been so painfully afraid of bringing God into 
 a real relationship to evil. Pantheism has been pre- 
 ferred to dualism. Strictly speaking, there can, of 
 course, be no divine paternity of evil. But if evil be 
 positive and real, whence is it ? of time, or of eternity ? 
 If of time, we might be tempted to call it the surprise 
 of a formidable insurrection, not yet subdued. K of 
 eternity, in any proper sense of the term, then it must 
 either have disputed from the start the divine suprem- 
 acy, or have made its way into the system by eternal 
 divine consent. And so there is forced upon us the 
 strong dilemma of an eternal fact, or an eternal pm*- 
 pose. Eternal purpose is not Calvinistic only, but Car- 
 tesian. The two great frenchmen of the sixteenth and 
 
THE COST OF SERVICE 161 
 
 seventeenth centuries, theologian and philosopner, Cal- 
 vin and Descartes, are agreed in the confession that 
 God hath foreordained vrhatsoever cometh to pass. This 
 is what the Hebrew prophet meant, when, in confront- 
 ing tlie Persian dualism, he called Jehovah, with such 
 startling emphasis, the " creator of evil." ' 
 
 The old Greek way, from the second century down, 
 of trying to save human freedom and accountability, at 
 the expense of the divine sovereignty, was a bad way. 
 It softened the muscle of the Greek Church, took the 
 iron out of its blood, and so, after a while, gave Mo- 
 hammed one of his opportunities. Mohammed was 
 not alone in preferring despotism to anarchy, fate to 
 fortuity. Human reason, human conscience, human 
 affection must have a universe with God in it, over it, 
 and under it. 
 
 What means it that human nature plunged so quickly 
 into sin ? What means it that revolting angels had led 
 the way ? Was it the only means of securing the sta- 
 bility of finite holiness ? At all events, it was the means 
 actually chosen ; and so, in this sense, had its origin in 
 God. This eternal relationship of God to evil, is a 
 tremendous fact. But, then, atonement also is eternal. 
 The Scriptural passages that teach this, are not numer- 
 ous, but they are decisive. " Thou lovedst me before 
 the foundation of the world," ^ was spoken by the Sec- 
 ond Person in the Trinity, with reference to this very 
 matter of redemption. Pentecost was ushered in by a 
 discourse, whose key-note was the determinate counsel 
 and foreknowledge of God, accomplished in the cruci- 
 
 ' Isaiah xlv. 7. ' John xvii. 24. 
 
162 BTERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 fixion of His Son. The preacher of that discourse, 
 years afterward, wrote an Epistle, in which he speaks 
 of the " Lamb without blemish and without spot, fore- 
 known before the foundation of the world." ' And then 
 at last from Patraos comes the vision, great and won- 
 derful, not only of the Lamb appointed, but also of the 
 Lamb verily slain, "from the foundation of the world.'" 
 This, then, is the grand refrain : From the foundation 
 of the world; not of time, but of eternity, in the very 
 depths of the divine nature. 
 
 Now we begin to get some glimpses of God. Not 
 One amd Three ; but One m Three ; and Three in One. 
 Justice and love, law and gospel, are there together in 
 those awful depths. Have no concern about the immu- 
 tability and majesty of God. Conscience takes care of 
 that. Sinai is built of granite. But the dew falls at 
 night into its bosom, and the patient stars look down 
 upon it in their silent, stately march. God is justice, 
 and God is love. God is Father, and God is Mother, 
 both in one. " O righteous Father," said our Lord in 
 that matchless prayer of intercession, " O righteous 
 Father, the world knew Thee not, but I knew Thee." ' 
 Out of the infinite pity came that Son of God; and 
 back into the infinite pity has that Son of God returned. 
 It is a vast abyss of being ; a vast abyss of thought, of 
 passion, and of purpose. Tou may shout it till you are 
 hoarse ; but God is not impassible. Oar sin has roused, 
 and cut Him to the heart. Indignant of course He is. 
 The ocean heaves. But fleecy clouds are in the sky, 
 ind soft rain is falling into the angry waves. The 
 
 ' Pet. i. 19, 30. « Rev. xiii. 8 ' John xvii. 35. 
 
THE COST OF BEBYICE 163 
 
 whole might and majesty of God are in that atoning 
 agony of love. Verily we are bought with a price, a 
 great price, such as God only could either give or take. 
 Priest and victim, the slayer and the slain, are God. 
 
 So it has been, and so it shall be, in essence, to the 
 end. Eedemption cost infinitely in eternity, and must 
 cost in time. Human history almost began with mar- 
 tyrdom. The blood of righteous Abel inaugurated the 
 stern economy. John the Baptist was decapitated, 
 Jesus of !N"azareth was crucified. Stephen was stoned. 
 Of our Lord's Apostles, probably only two or three 
 died a natural death. Scarcely a people have ever been 
 evangelized without the baptism of blood. Scarcely a 
 man has ever been signally useful without the baptism 
 of some great sorrow. We learn in suffering what we 
 teach in song. 
 
 My dear young brethren of the graduating class : 
 The time has come for us to part. The three years 
 have swiftly sped. Faces that were strange to ns only 
 that little while ago, are now familiar and endeared. 
 In a few days you leave us on diverging radii, that will 
 never meet here again. We entreat you to forgive, 
 and to forget, the shortcomings of your instructors. 
 On our part, we have nothing that I am aware of either 
 to forgive or to forget. You have been a great comfort 
 to us all. God bless you now, to-morrow, and for- 
 evermore. 
 
 Tou will have memories peculiarly your own. Tour 
 
 last year in the Seminary, has been the last year of the 
 
 Seminary itself in its first old home.' After nearly 
 
 ' No. 9 University Place, occupied by the Seminary from 1838 
 
164: ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 half a century of growth and discipline, under scholastic 
 guidance which has become historic, with pronounced 
 traditions of our own, dearer to us than life itself, this 
 highly-favored institution now looks with longing eyes 
 to the better home provided for it nearer the heart of 
 this greater city that is yet to be. We bless the men 
 whose liberal benefactions have put within our reach 
 such splendid possibilities of service in the years to 
 come. Too many of these, our benefactors, are beyond 
 our salutation. Out of our earlier history there would 
 be more than I can name — men who would have re- 
 joiced to behold this day. Out of our more recent his- 
 tory stand forth such names as Brown, Morgan, and 
 Marquand. Other names may not be spoken till they 
 are starred. 
 
 If I dared to be proud of anything, it would be of 
 this School of the Prophets. It began in poverty and 
 weakness, praying almost day by day for its daily bread. 
 The planting of it in this whirling metropolis of com- 
 merce, was against all our American traditions. The 
 probability, almost the possibility, of scholarly habits 
 and of scholarly enthusiasm, was more than questioned. 
 Even piety, and the self-denial prescribed for clergy- 
 men, were thought to be imperilled. But these things 
 all happened before the Deluge. Only let us never 
 forget the wisdom, courage, and steady purpose of our 
 fathers and founders. The commercial instinct was not 
 at fault. Great scholars, like Eobinson and Nordheimer, 
 fresh from the Universities of Europe, were soon in. 
 stalled. Henry White came out of a strong pulpit into 
 
 till the autumn of 1884, when it entered its present home, No. 
 1300 Park Avenue. 
 
THE COST OF SERVIOE 165 
 
 his Professor's Chair. Skinner, Smith, and Adams 
 followed. I must omit the living. When at length 
 their names also are starred, some other voice must tell 
 the story. 
 
 And now, my dear young brothers, fare you well. 
 Dictate no terms to Providence. At whatever cost ac 
 cept the service offered you, high or low, far or near. 
 Then burn to the socket. 
 
XI 
 THE STAFF OF LIFE 
 
THE STAFF OF LIFE 
 
 " Itia written, Mom shall not live by bread alone, but by every word 
 that proceedeth out of the mouth of God." — Matthew iv. 4. 
 
 Only two things within our own power are ahsolute- 
 ly indispensable to human life — sleep is indispensable ; 
 but not within our own power. These are, generically, 
 food and drink, whose simplest and best specific forms 
 are bread and water. Bread we call the staff of life. 
 This familiar imagery is as ancient at least as the time 
 of Abraham. To the three angels, one of them the 
 mysterious Angel of the Covenant, who appeared to 
 him as he sat at the door of his tent in the plains of 
 Mamre, the hospitable Patriarch said : " I will fetch a 
 morsel of bread, and stay ye your hearts." ' Moses, 
 when he threatened the people with famine in punish- 
 ment of their sins, described it as the breaking of their 
 staff.' Isaiah also warns the inhabitants of Jerusalem 
 and Judah, that the Lord of Hosts will take away the 
 stay and the staff, the whole stay of bread, and the 
 whole staff of water.' Bread was what the famished 
 Bedouin craved, when he caught up so eagerly the bag 
 he found lying by a fountain in the desert, and flung it 
 down again so quickly in despair, exclaiming : " Alas ! 
 it is only diamonds." Water is what the wounded 
 soldier begs for so piteously with his dying breath. 
 
 ' Qen. xviii. 5 ' Lev. xxvi. 36. ' Is. iii. 1. 
 
 069) 
 
lYO ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 These two appetites of the hody were both made use 
 of by our Lord in commending to human acceptance 
 the Divinest blessings of the Gospel. In the synagogue 
 at Capernaum, during the second year of His ministry, 
 He called Himself the bread of God, sent down from 
 Heaven, to give life unto the world.' And again, in 
 the Temple at Jerusalem, on the last great day of the 
 Feast of Tabernacles, the autumn before He suffered, 
 He stood and cried : " If any man thirst, let him come 
 unto Me and drink" ' 
 
 These incidents suffice to rescue from the contempt 
 of a fastidious criticism, what some might otherwise 
 have looked upon as too homely an illustration ol 
 spiritual truth. Such fastidiousness is. nowhere coun- 
 tenanced in the Scriptures. The Maker of our bodies 
 never speaks scornfully of their normal, innocent ne- 
 cessities. Human life, in the lowest sphere of its 
 merely animal functions and wants, is invested with a 
 sort of sacredness as the workmanship and husbandry 
 of God. Since the days of Noah, the law of " blood 
 for blood," has been its Divinely appointed shield from 
 murderous violence. While the countless and varied 
 forms of human industry and enterprise, required to 
 furnish the needed comforts and ornaments of life, 
 have nowhere been more highly commended, not to 
 say, more strictly enjoined, than in the writings of those 
 men who spake as they were moved by the Holy 
 Ghost. Even wealth finds endorsement in the Prov- 
 erbs of Solomon, who has told us, that " the hand of 
 the diligent maketh rich." ' Oiir Lord's injunction, 
 " Labor not for the meat which perislieth," * is not an 
 > John vi. 2a-59. « John vii. 37. ' Prov. v 4, ■> John vi 37. 
 
THE STAFF OF LIFE 171 
 
 absolute, but only a relative, interdiction of human in- 
 dustry. It is only an exclusive, or a disproportionate, 
 devotion to material pursuits, which is here forbidden. 
 Even in our text, no slight is put upon the ordinary 
 supports of human life. Our Lord, after forty days of 
 fasting, had been challenged by the Tempter to make 
 demonstration of His Divine Sonahip by turning into 
 bread the stones which were underneath His feet. His 
 answer was, in language borrowed from Moses: "Man 
 shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that 
 proceedeth out of the mouth of God." As though He 
 had said : I do not deny the desirableness of bread for 
 the body ; although even bread is not always a neces- 
 sity, since man has also a higher nature, which must 
 take its nourishment, whence the body itself may also 
 be nourished, from the lips of God. 
 
 Thus may our text be understood as adjudicating the 
 question always and everywhere at issue between the 
 two natures of man. From both sides of the Jordan, 
 out of both economies, from the lips at once of Moses 
 and of Christ, the decision comes, that while the lower 
 nature may not be crushed, the higher nature must not 
 be smothered. In effect, if not in form, the injunction 
 is : Fail not to make prudent provision for the body ; 
 but be sure you make still better provision for the soul. 
 Be diligent in all proper worldly business. Let the 
 bosom of the earth be tilled, and its bowels searched 
 for treasures. Let the sea also be ploughed and sound- 
 ed. Let the very ends of the earth resound with the 
 hum and stir of human toil and traflSc. And let the 
 whole life of man be enriched and adorned with the 
 spoils and trophies of an ever-advancing, triumphant 
 
172 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 material civilization. But through, underneath, and 
 above all this, let there be a yet keener diligence in 
 matters pertaining to the sonl. Let its fields also 
 be ploughed and dressed, till they wave with the good- 
 ly harvests of knowledge and grace. Let its heights 
 be climbed, and its depths sounded. Let the wis- 
 dom which is from above, and unto life eternal, be 
 more precious than gold or rubies. Let the Kingdom 
 of Christ be more real, and of more account, than all 
 the kingdoms of the earth. In short, let there be a 
 grand spiritual civilization, underlying, pervading, and 
 electrifying the material, till the rebellious Titans are 
 all subdued, and the knowledge of the Lord fills the 
 earth as the waters cover the sea.' 
 
 It is of this momentous struggle between the mate- 
 rial and the spiritual, as now in progress on our own 
 continent, and underneath our own eyes, that I propose 
 to discourse to-daj. Lend me, then, your attention, 
 while I consider : First, what our peril is ; and second- 
 ly, what our deliverance must be. 
 
 I. We are first to consider what our peril is. 
 
 In one word, it is the peril of an over-mastering jna- 
 ferialism. A peril not different in kind from what has 
 always beset the race ; which, in a new degree beyond 
 all historic precedent, we share in common with the 
 whole of Protestant Christendom ; and yet, for obvious 
 reasons, a peril peculiarly our own, sharper and hurry- 
 ing more swiftly to its crisis, than has befallen the ex- 
 perience of any other nation upon the globe. 
 
 A little more than three hundred yeare ago, the lead- 
 ' Is. xi. 9. 
 
THE STAFF OF LIFE ]73 
 
 ing nations of the earth were launched all at once, and 
 with tremendous impetus, upon a new career. The 
 Feudal disintegration, which followed the dismember- 
 ment of the Empire of Charlemagne, had given place 
 by degrees to the well - defined and well - compacted 
 nationalities of modern Europe. One by one, and yet 
 all of them within a narrow compass of time, these 
 nationalities stood forth solidified and centralized and 
 panoplied. Italy was the only exception : Italy, and to 
 some extent also Germany. All the rest were unified, 
 and thereby clothed with power. The Papacy, which 
 had easily managed the discordant multitude of petty 
 Feudal Princes, now began to tremble in the presence 
 of Kings and Emperors, each with a newly consolidated 
 nation behind him, just beginning to be conscious of 
 its strength and jealous of its rights. 
 
 While this decisive change was rapidly going on in 
 the sphere of politics, there was, in the sphere of prac- 
 tical life, an equally rapid succession of most important 
 inventions and discoveries, which smote the sluggish- 
 ness of Mediaeval Europe like so many galvanic bat- 
 teries. These were : First, the Mariner's Compass, 
 known in China more than seven centuries ago, but not 
 known in Europe till after the Crusades, and not ren- 
 dered available for an adventurous commerce, till it 
 reached the Occident. Second, the invention of Gun- 
 powder, or, rather, the application of it to gunnery : an 
 art not known to the Chinese, who, though they manu- 
 factured the compound about as well as we do now, 
 had never used it in war. On the battle-field of Crecy, 
 in 1346, artillery thundered for the first time in his- 
 tory, ushering in a new era. Third, the art of Printing, 
 
174 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 also known in China more than nine hundred years ago, 
 bnt not known in Europe till invented by Guttenberg, 
 perhaps in pursuance of a hint borrowed from the 
 Orient, about the middle of the fifteenth century. 
 Fourth, the discovery, in 1486, and the doubling in 
 1497, of the Cape of Good Hope, which gave Europe 
 m easy highway to the Indies, and beckoned her fleets 
 oat beyond the Pillars of Hercules to whiten all the 
 oceans of the globe. And fifth, the discovery of our 
 own Continent of America, which has touched to the 
 quick every nation of Europe. 
 
 Such a series of triumphs over time and space, over 
 mere brute strength in the masses, over isolation, igno- 
 rance and prejudice, must, in any case, have revolution- 
 ized society. But followed up as they were so closely, 
 and subsidized, by the Lutheran Reformation, they be- 
 came doubly rousing and revolutionary. Commerce, 
 the mechanic arts, and an improved agriculture, became 
 in no long time the special allies and badges of Prot- 
 estantism. Papal Italy, it is true, gave to the world 
 Columbus, Yespucius, Yevarrani, and the elder Cabot, 
 but she herself took no part in the great enterprises of 
 maritime discovery, and reaped no advantage from 
 them. Papal Spain and Portugal, not so much cor- 
 rupted by sudden and enormous revenues, as radically 
 weakened and wasted by causes long at work upon 
 their spiritual constitutions, soon fell behind in the 
 general rush for wealth and empire, leaving their 
 sturdier Protestant rivals to snatch the better part of 
 the newly-discovered territories, inaugurate a more in- 
 dastrial, thrifty civilization, and so command eventually 
 the markets of the 'world. Even Prance, constitution- 
 
THE STAFF OF LIFE 175 
 
 ally so mercurial, aggressive, and versatile, spurning the 
 Reformation offered her by Lefevre and Calvin, com- 
 mitted the stupid blunder of exiling her ingenious 
 Huguenots, made enemies of those who should have 
 been her helpers, and vras hunted by the red flag of 
 England from the rising to the setting sun. Thus it 
 was that Protestant Europe took on the character whicli 
 she wears to-day. Purer in doctrine than Papal Europe, 
 and in most respects, no doubt, purer also in morals, 
 more intelligent, more industrious, more enterprising, 
 aud consequently more prosperous, Protestant Europe 
 is nevertheless in the heat of a raging fever, her very 
 vitals burning with the lust of gain. England, especi- 
 ally, suffers under the ravages of this vehement disease. 
 For generations has she been applauded by the grate- 
 ful nations, as the bulwark of Protestantism, and the 
 dauntless evengelist of freedom. But look on England 
 to-day, the England that speaks to us through Liverpool 
 and Manchester, through Cabinet and Parliament, her 
 stout hand not upon her heart but upon her pocket, cold 
 towards us, who were but recently so warm towards 
 her, icy cold towards us in our desperate struggle with 
 the most wantonly wicked rebellion on record in his- 
 tory, sneeringly indifferent to the triumph of law, order, 
 authority, and right, anxious only about the cargoes of ■ 
 cotton, which are to feed her whirling spindles. If 
 this be our Protestant brotherhood, this the fellowship 
 of nations which have stood together for the freedom 
 of the world, well may we hang our heads in bitter 
 shame as we remember even the Crusades of the Mid- 
 dle Ages. These at least were a gallant frenzy, a 
 generous fanaticism, while we have fallen upon times 
 
176 ETMBNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 of ignoble selfishness and greed. Tell ns, ye British 
 statesmen, tell us, ye sordid sons of heroic sires, are 
 Constitutions only parchment ? Are nations only herds 
 of farmers, artisans, and traders? Are our fathers- 
 graves only mounds of earth, and our children's cradles 
 mere upholstery ? Is chartered freedom only sounding 
 rhetoric ? Is duty only a name ? Is honor dead ? Has 
 the Almighty abdicated ? And is there nothing for us, 
 in this nineteenth century, but to delve and spin and 
 trade, to clutch and hoard, to eat and drink and bloat 
 and rot and die, and make no sign % 
 
 But while we thus upbraid Protestant England, lead- 
 ing the van of Protestant Europe, let us not be blind 
 to our own misdeeds. We are radically the most Prot- 
 estant of Protestants. We came over here, most of us, 
 as fugitive dissenters ; the Irish Catholic, not less than 
 the English Puritan. We came here in quest of a free- 
 dom denied us beyond the sea: freedom to worship 
 God, each in his own way, and freedom to govern our- 
 selves in the fear of God. For a time we kept step to 
 the music of the grand old Christian Psalms, with 
 which we fijst waked the echoes of the forest. But 
 presently, as we took vigorous root here on the virgin 
 continent, we began to imbibe its rankness. So vast a 
 stretch of vacant fertile territory never before solicited 
 the husbandman. Such mountains of iron and copper, 
 anthracite and gold, never before allured the miner. 
 Such a system of lakes and rivers never before floated 
 harvests to market. Never before was landless labor 
 invited to such a Paradise. That subtle instinct of our 
 nature, which renders owneisliip in the soil so intense 
 a luxury, has found here its keenest stimulant. Alike 
 
THE STAFF OF LIFE lY^ 
 
 from Southern plantation, from "Western prairie, and 
 from the Golden Gate of the Pacific, there have broken 
 notes of challenge and of welcome, which liave mad- 
 dened our bounding blood. New Kings have arisen, 
 who know not Joseph, nor Joseph them : Cotton in the 
 South, Corn in the North, and Gold on the Pacific 
 shore. Obedient to their call, we have rushed on head- 
 long over vast territories, planting States as other na- 
 tions have planted only Colonies ; while far along ahead 
 of the advancing wave of population, we have flung a 
 spray before us, spattering the wilderness with hamlets 
 too meagre, and cabins too scattered, to permit the 
 church and the school-house promptly to follow them. 
 And so have we conquered the continent; leaping 
 from the Atlantic to the Mississippi, from the Missis- 
 sippi to the Pacific. With such a basis laid for wealth 
 in the products of our soil, and the treasures of our 
 mines, we have advanced rapidly in the mechanic arts ; 
 already, in the greenness of our youth, rivalling the 
 oldest industry of Europe. Equally rapid has been the 
 growth of commerce, encouraged by our midway po- 
 sition between the great continents, till now we are 
 the most eager and ubiquitous of the modern Phoeni- 
 cians. Every sea is vexed with oui- bold and hurrying 
 keels ; every climate rified of its products. We have 
 gone the farthest towards the Arctic and Antarctic 
 Poles. We alone almost of the nations hunt the whales 
 of the Northern Pacific We find new islands for the 
 geographers. We hang with fluttering pinions upon 
 the jealously-guarded coasts of China and Japan. 
 
 Consider also what our blood is: not English, nor 
 Irish, nor Scotch, nor German, nor Dutch, nor Scandi- 
 
178 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 n avian, nor French, nor Spanish, nor any other ; but 
 all of these, and many more, from almost every land 
 and language under the cope of Heaven. And what is 
 not to be lightly thought of, these manifold contribu- 
 tions have not been slowly distilled into the veins of 
 our national life, but have come almost like invading 
 irmies, forcing on us an amalgamation of races such as 
 110 nation has ever before experienced. If Europe 
 throbs and flushes under the pressure of her diversified, 
 exuberant, and abounding life, as the chafing races 
 struggle together within her bosom, much more may we, 
 who have the blood of all these races mixed in our boil- 
 ing veins. 
 
 Add to this the unexampled elasticity and freedom 
 of our civil institutions — institutions as elastic and un- 
 fettered as the air we breathe — and you have before 
 you the elements of the stupendous problem of our 
 destiny now hastening towards its solution. 
 
 Need I tell you what we are, or where we stand, to- 
 day? Behold and see. A vast continent underneath 
 our glowing feet ; and we boastful of its gigantic pro- 
 portions ; as if great territories must needs breed great 
 souls. A continent rich on its surface with the gathered 
 fatness of centuries, rich beneath its surface with all that 
 toughens the sinews of nations ; and we delving to make 
 them ours. On one side of us the Atlantic, thundering 
 in our ears of Europe and Africa, on the other side of 
 us the Pacific, whispering of Asia and Australia ; and 
 we with eager ears open to both. With a form of gov- 
 ernment, the more sagacious of whose founders feared 
 might be wanting in force ; we are, over all the conti- 
 nent, in the riot of our youthful impatience of restraint, 
 
THE 8TAFF OF LIFE 179 
 
 shouting back and forth to each other, from the lakes to 
 the gulf, and from ocean to ocean : " That is the best 
 government, which governs the least." 
 
 Yerily the Millennium has dawned ; but it is the Mil- 
 lennium of a rank and rampant materialism. We are 
 mad after gain ; madder than we know. It is the one 
 great passion of the continent — poisoning our social 
 life, poisoning our politics, poisoning even our religion. 
 Just now the very life of the Republic is menaced by 
 a rebellion, in its atrocity matched only by the rebellion 
 of Lucifer, in its meanness matched only by the rebel- 
 lion of Absalom, but having its root, when we come 
 to the last analysis of causes, having its root, I say, in 
 nothing else than this accursed greed of gain. 
 
 It is the institution of Slavery, as all admit, which is 
 now striking so frantically for the dominion of the con- 
 tinent. And who does not know that the inventions 
 of Arkwright and Whitney, enhancing the value, and 
 stimulating the demand for cotton, have done more than 
 all other influences combined towards making Slavery 
 the unscrupulous, insolent, and hateful power that it 
 is ? Who does not know, that a long series of Northern 
 concessions, inspired in part by a generous patriotism, 
 but inspired also by the natural timidity of commerce, 
 had begotten in the minds of the Southern conspirators 
 an assurance, now so happily falsified, that the indus- 
 trious and opulent North would never take up arms in 
 defence of the imperilled Union ? Suppose we crush 
 this rebellion, as I am sure we shall, unless the stars in 
 their courses fight against us, as against Sisera of old. 
 What will be gained, if then we only go on just as we 
 went before ? What will be gained ? Only a respite, 
 
180 I'JTEBNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 by no means a deliverance. "We shall only swell again 
 with pride, and again make the world ring with our boast- 
 ings. We shall only gorge ourselves with our gains, 
 and be fattened like bullocks for the slaughter. 
 
 n. This brings me to speak of what our deliverance 
 must be. 
 
 Deliverance is what we want; not mere respite, 
 which only adjourns the conflict, lifting the agony from 
 ov/r spirits to lay it over upon our children ; deliver- 
 ance, complete and final. What avails it in a raging 
 fever, rapidly nearing its crisis, that we comfort our- 
 selves with cooling drinks, while the disease is striking 
 boldly at our vitals ? What avails it even in health, 
 that we breathe the purest air of the mountains, if we 
 take no food ? 
 
 In the sentence chosen for our text, we read either 
 our doom, or our deliverance, just which we will : our 
 doom, if we are foolish ; our deliverance, if we are wise. 
 It is written, written in God's word, and written in all 
 the history of the race : " Man shdll not live by hread 
 alone, but by every word that prooeedeth out of the 
 mouth of OodP Such is the Divine regimen for the 
 nations. They live, if they live at all, by no felicity of 
 position, soil, or climate, by no abundance of material 
 good, but by the living word of the living God. 
 
 In our own case, duty is as plain as the path of the 
 sun along the firmament. The triumphs of our mate- 
 rial civilization are not to be thrown away, nor its 
 splendors diminished. So long as our land is fertile, 
 so long shall we reap and gamer its harvests. So long 
 as our mountains stand, so long shall we sink our shafts 
 
THE STAFF OF LIFE ]81 
 
 into their shaggy sides. So long as coal burns, or iron 
 melts, or gold is purified, in the furnace, so long will 
 the furnace roar. So long as our lake sparkle in the 
 morning light, or our rivers ran laughing to the sea, so 
 long shall we float our produce to its mart. So long as 
 the restless ocean heaves, so long shall we ride upon its 
 billows. It is simply preposterous to say that these 
 things ought not so to be. Who says it? Surely, 
 not nature, whose every growing tree, whose every 
 flowing stream, whose every breathing breeze, is elo- 
 quent of life and power. Surely, not the God either 
 of nature, of Providence, or of grace, of whom it was 
 said by His only-begotten Son : " My Father workeih 
 hitherto." 
 
 Work then we must, and shall, and should. And 
 work will bring us wealth. And wealth will bring us 
 power. What then ? Need wealth be idolized, or 
 spent upon our lusts? Need power be vaunted and 
 abused ? If so, we perish ; perish, as Tyre and Sidon 
 perished ; perish, as Carthage perished ; perish, as, ac- 
 cording to the Indian legend, the last of our gigantic 
 mastodons perished, smitten down by the thundei-bolt 
 of the Great Spirit. Thank God, it need not be so. 
 There is no necessity laid upon us, that we curse God 
 and die. Nor is it our task to lay our feeble, inefieet- 
 ual flnger upon this vast revolving wheel, which car- 
 ries the whole machinery of our earthly life, and bid it 
 pause. It is not our task to slay this giant of our ma- 
 terial prosperity, and stretch his huge corpse out across 
 the continent. We are called to no such service; tr 
 realize no such Utopian dream. " Ours is the far 
 grander task of teaching the giant wisdom, and subdu- 
 
182 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 ing his earth-bom energies to Him, who has told us 
 that " Man shall not live by hread aloneP 
 
 How, then, shall men and nations live? "By every 
 word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God "; so 
 reads our text. The Hebrews in the desert had no 
 need of bread ; they were fed with manna from the 
 skies. But our Lord proved that there was no need 
 even of manna. It was enough for Him, as the Son of 
 Man, that He had faith in God. On this He feasted, 
 while He fasted, the forty days. It was God's com- 
 mandment, which He obeyed in fasting, and this com- 
 mandment, thus obeyed in faith, was the bread He ate. 
 The commandments of God, then, are the bread of life 
 for the nations. 
 
 These commandments of God, it can hardly need to 
 be said, are all embodied in the Gospel of His Son. 
 What was written on the tablets of stone at Sinai, what 
 was announced by Prophets, what is written on the 
 fleshly tablets of the heart, all that God has ever spoken, 
 whether in thunders or in whispers, is here gathered up 
 for its final, decisive utterance. 
 
 And this is our deliverance ; neither more, nor less, 
 nor other, than the glorious Gospel of the blessed God. 
 Our fathers brought it with them across the sea. They 
 laid the foundations of their civil polity upon it. B3 
 it they squared, or aimed to square, their whole life^ 
 private, social, and public. They went to battle in the 
 strength it ministered. They buried their dead in the 
 hopes it kindled. They died themselves in the triumphs 
 it taught them. By this our Christian birth, our Chris- 
 tian baptism, and Our Christian history, we arc a Chris- 
 tian people ; and none who join us from any quarter of 
 
THE STAFF OF LIFE 183 
 
 the globe, Buddhists, infidels, or idolaters, may be per- 
 mitted to reverse this verdict. 
 
 If a Christian people, then we must be loyal to our 
 calling, baptizing oar unexampled material prosperity 
 into the name of Christ, and dedicating our wealth, 
 with a wise and eager generosity, to Christian uses. 
 "Wealth we have, and wealth we shall have more and 
 more. The Mediaeval Church, which preached from 
 all its pulpits : " Blessed are the poor," has given place 
 to a Church, which preaches the preaching of its Lord : 
 " Blessed are the poor in spirit." 
 
 The Gospel has no curses for the rich, if only they be 
 rich also in faith and love and good works. Its grand 
 ideal, its one great lesson is, not self-crucifixion, but 
 self-control ; not voluntary poverty, but industrious and 
 faithful stewardship. Goods -in trust for Ch/ristian 
 uses : this is the description of all property, real or per- 
 sonal, in the possession of a Christian man. As be- 
 tween ourselves and God, thei'e is no such thing as the 
 fee-simple recognized in Christian law. What we have 
 comes not by purchase, but by gift ; and it is given to 
 us, that we may give it back. How far we now are 
 from obedience to this Christian law of property, how 
 far even from consciously assenting to this law as justly 
 in force over us, I need not say. But only take the 
 measure of our estates and incomes, and then the meas- 
 ure of our charities, and tell me, whether even the 
 Hebrew tenth, scorned by the Christians of the first 
 three centuries as beneath their privilege, is realized 
 amongst us. Or compare our stinted gifts, large as they 
 may sometimes seem to be, with what we lavish upon 
 onrselves, and tell me, whether the ratio is creditable 
 
184 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 to our Cliiistian name. I cannot, of course, prognosti- 
 cate the life of the Church during the Millennium, for 
 which it prays; but sure I am that the Millennium it- 
 self will never come, till the Church has revised, not to 
 say completely and radically revolutionized, its whole 
 economy of giving. More, vastly more must go into 
 the treasury of the Lord, before the work of the Lord 
 prospers. And now, if God spares the life of our 
 nation in answer to our prayers, let us, as a Christian 
 people, solemnly resolve that we will not suffer our- 
 selves to be launched again upon such a surging tide of 
 worldliness as that from which, by the judgments of 
 God's hand, we have just been snatched. Even now in 
 the midst of civil war, we are in the midst of material 
 plenty. Our stores are almost bursting with grain, our 
 vaults with gold. But with returning peace there will 
 be returning traffic, such as the country has never 
 known. We shall presently hear the roar of it in our 
 docks and along our streets. And may God have mercy 
 on our souls. While yet upon the dizzy brink of this 
 new prosperity, let us tremble, and let us pray. Let us 
 dedicate ourselves with all our property, and all our 
 power of making property, anew to God. Let us ap- 
 preciate the spiritual grandeur of the new era, which 
 Providence is preparing for us. It must needs be more 
 Christian than the era now closing in fire and blood ; 
 uore Christian in its fidelity of unselfish stewardship, 
 or He who sitteth in the Heavens will not suffer it to 
 be at all. We have gone on just as far as we can go in 
 our insane idolatry of material good. From this hour 
 onward, we must elaborate and wield our fortunes in 
 the interest of a far loftier and more beneficent civiliz- 
 
TEE STAFF OF LIFE Igg 
 
 ation. A Christian people, opulent and thrifty as we 
 have been, should have more to show for it in our 
 achievements of Christian charity. Our institutions 
 of mercy for the poor, the sick, the fatherless ; our in- 
 stitutions of learning and religion ; our mission schools 
 and churches in the poorer and more densely peopled 
 districts of our larger cities, in the more sparsely peo- 
 pled portions of our extended territory ; our societies, 
 which have in charge the printing of Bibles and re- 
 ligious books, the equipment of an accomplished and 
 zealous ministry, and the sending forth of missionaries 
 throughout our own and into foreign lands, ought all 
 of them to be far stronger and more eflficient than they 
 ever have been. The measure of our achievements in 
 the past will not suffice as the measure of our achieve- 
 ments in the time to come. The destiny of the con- 
 tinent is now suspended in awful scales, whose beam 
 trembles amongst the stars. It is indeed a noble con- 
 tinent ; but it belongs to Christ by a far more sacred 
 title than it belongs to us. His name, not ours, is en- 
 graved upon it. And He is looking for a loyal Church ; 
 a Church, which shall subdue the continent in all its 
 forces, and with all its treasures, and run up the stand- 
 ard of the Cross over all its rebellious fields. In our 
 closets and on our knees, let us await the coming baptism 
 of a new confession. A baptism of fire, it must be, 
 but not sent to burn us, only our dross. 
 
 Let us not fail to recognize our proper Sovereign, 
 although in His advent flames go before Him and dark- 
 ness is underneath His feet. Let Mammon no longer be 
 worshipped within our borders. Let us make less haste 
 to be rich. Above all, let us renounce the groundless 
 
186 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 claim to our earnings as our own ; and let us accept the 
 better office of an honest Christian stewardship, as at 
 once our only safety and our highest honor. 
 
 Our political life, in all its spheres — municipal, state, 
 and national — is also in desperate need of mending. 
 For many years now, the so-called better classes amongst 
 us, and especially our Christian citizens, immersed in 
 business or else engaged in more congenial enterprises 
 of individual and organized beneficence, have retreated 
 from the political arena, leaving it in the hands of hun- 
 gry adventurers and partisans. The votes which good 
 men carry to the polls are too often dictated by bad 
 men, whom no prudent merchant would ever think of 
 trusting with his property. 
 
 The caucus, so honorable in its origin, has become 
 the basest of engines, managed to defraud the people 
 of their honest choice, so that the very term is losing 
 its place in classic usage. Statesmen are hunted down 
 by demagogues in pursuit of the spoils of office. Our 
 largest popular conventions are theatres of intrigue, such 
 as pure-minded patriots may well blush to encounter. 
 Even our chambers of legislation have opened their 
 doors to bribery, and become the veriest chambers of 
 wickedness. 
 
 Hence the acknowledged rottenness of our whole 
 political system ; brought about, in no small degree, by 
 the shameful neglect of multitudes of patriotic and 
 Christian citizens, too much engrossed in their own 
 private pursuits, to stand forth as champions of the 
 common weal. Politics are no longer a science, but a 
 trade. Things have come to such a pass, that it matters 
 
TEE STAFF OF LIFE 187 
 
 too little what party may be in the ascendency ; there 
 are soldiers of fortune in mischievous abundance, ready 
 at any moment to march their squadrons from one 
 camp to another, just as the eagles of victory may lead 
 the way. 
 
 Here, too, let us now make our stand. These abom- 
 inations have flourished and rioted quite long enough. 
 Our calling as Christian citizens is to elaborate, in its 
 grandest proportions, a Christian State. We must be 
 done flattering the masses. Men are no better in the 
 aggregate than they are as individuals. The voice of 
 the people, when the people are corrupt and reckless, 
 is anything but the voice of God. Let us remember 
 the profane shout of tlie Caesareans in the courts of 
 Herod, and how God smote the inflated tyrant, and 
 gave him as food to worms. God's voice is in His 
 Providence, and not in us, except as we are the wise 
 interpreters and the willing ministers of that Provi- 
 dence. God's voice is in the volume of His Word, and 
 we must listen for it there. 
 
 Nations are not cradled and reared to maturity, that 
 they may trample on the Divine authority. A right- 
 eous judgment presides over their fortunes. They are 
 set in their places that they may execute the eternal 
 decrees of justice and mercy. If they fail in this they 
 are stricken down, If they scorn the weak, oppress the 
 poor, and shut their ears against the sighing of the cap- 
 tive, they are doomed to perish. The Persians have a 
 proverb that the cry of the orphan rocks the throne of 
 the Almighty. The God we profess to serve chooses to 
 be known in the earth as the friend of the friendless, 
 and the avenger of the oppressed. He sees His own 
 
188 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 image in every child of want and sorrow, and woe to 
 the people who defile or despise that image. Woe to 
 the nation that seeks its own aggrandizement by the 
 conquest of weaker nations. Woe to the race which 
 seeks the heights of power by setting its foot upon the 
 necks of weaker races. 
 
 The roots of our life as a people are in God. And 
 our God is the God in Christ. There is no law of his- 
 tory more absolute than this : That nations lise or fall, 
 flourish or decay, according as they help or hinder the 
 Kingdom of Christ our Lord. The Kingdom of Christ, 
 I say. Not that amount of intelligence and virtue, 
 which an infidel civilization may succeed in difEusing 
 amongst the masses of men, but the Kingdom of Christ 
 as an organized society, built upon the foundation of 
 Apostles and Prophets, and maintained in the world 
 by the preaching of the Word, and the observance of 
 Christian ordinances, and the administration of the 
 Christian sacraments. Our hopes for the future of our 
 imperilled institutions of civil government, must there- 
 fore all centre in the Church. It is the one thing of 
 all others on this continent most dear to the heart of 
 God. Our first duty is to save it from reproach. In- 
 fidel interpreters of Scripture, desecrating the sanctity 
 of Christian pulpits, if such interpreters there be, 
 must be frowned into silence. Learned Doctors, abus- 
 ing the Scriptures by trying to make them abet op- 
 pression, must be indignantly rebuked. Those who 
 .come amongst us from the continent of Europe, es- 
 pecially from Germany, prejudiced against Christian- 
 ity itself by reason of its connection with oppressive 
 political institutions at home, must here be taught 
 
THE STAFF OF LIFE 189 
 
 that the Kingdom of Christ, though in the world, is 
 not of it. 
 
 Ten righteous men, as we read, would have saved 
 the cities of the plain. But then they must have been 
 righteous men, thoroughly righteous, profoundly fear- 
 ing God, and diligently keeping His commandments. 
 So may Christ's Church on this continent, now trem- 
 bling beneath the tread of nearly a million of armed 
 men, save us. 
 
 But this Church mast be worthy of its Great Cap- 
 tain, radiant in its graces, energetic in its evangelism, 
 holding forth in its simplicity and purity the word of 
 life, multiplying its converts, grappling boldly with our 
 national sins, and subduing all things to itself. Our 
 great work will not be done, it will only have just com- 
 menced, when the war, in which we are now engaged, has 
 ended in victory. For the present, we struggle only 
 to reassert the national authority, and restore the in- 
 tegrity of the national domain. This will be, indeed, 
 a magnificent achievement, worth immeasurably more 
 than many thousands of lives and many millions of 
 money. But this accomplished, there will still remain 
 the far more difficult achievement of thoroughly sub- 
 duing the continent, as it never has been subdued, to 
 Christ. For long years, with all our patience, and with 
 all our might, shall we have to struggle with the gigan- 
 tic task of making ourselves more positively and more 
 entirely a Christian people. The principal impediment 
 now disputing our progress can hardly need to be named. 
 We see it inscribed upon the rebellious banners which 
 now challenge us to battle. It is Slcm&ry, an institu- 
 tion which we may tolerate, for a time and under pro- 
 
190 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 test, as oui- fathers tolerated it, but which must never 
 rule us in the future, as it has ruled us in the past ; an 
 institution, which has revealed its essential hatefulness, 
 and aroused against it the indignation of our most con- 
 servative and moderate thinkers, by giving birth to a 
 brood of atrocities, which the tenderest Christian char- 
 ity can hardly hesitate to pronounce Satanic. Prov- 
 idence will probably see to it, that this barbarous insti- 
 tution shall be so crippled by the war it has wantonly 
 provoked, as never again to raise itself in rebellion 
 against our flag. But though crippled, this institution 
 bids fair to survive the present conflict, passing over, 
 with all its embarrassments, to become one of the chief 
 problems of a better Christian future.' "What shall be 
 done with it, no human wisdom can as yet determine. 
 But this at least is clear, that we must cover the conti- 
 nent, not merely with the shadow of our victorious flag, 
 but also with the shadow of the Cross. The church 
 and the school-house must enter every settlement, and 
 unto all the people must be carried the Word of God, 
 which alone giveth life to the nations. 
 
 I Written in 1861, before the emancipation of the slaves seemed 
 practicable. 
 
XII 
 
 THE WITNESS OF HISTORY TO 
 CHRISTIANITY 
 
THE WITNESS OF HISTOKY TO 
 CHEISTIANITY 
 
 "And now I say unto you, Befrcdn from these inen, and let them 
 aione : for if this counsel or this work be of men, it will come to 
 nought : but if it be of &ocl, ye cannot overthrow it; lest hwply ye be 
 found even tofght against God."— Actb v. 38, 39. 
 
 CHBisTiANrrT was on trial before the Jewish Sanhe- 
 drim. It had then no history. Beckoning from the 
 Daj of Pentecost, it was hardly more, perhaps it was 
 even less, than a fortnight old. Now it has a history ; 
 a history of more than eighteen hundred years, known 
 of aU men. Wisely spake that wisest of Jewish Kab- 
 bis : Let us wait awhile and see. If it be of men, no 
 blow is needed ; it will crumble of itself, unsmitten. 
 If it be of God, no smiting will do it any harm. Let it 
 alone. Leave it to history. 
 
 Such was the appeal. We are ready now for the 
 verdict. We have waited long enough. If Gamaliel 
 himself were here, I, for one, would be willing to leave 
 it all to his candid judgment. To-day I ask no argu- 
 ment for Christianity but from its own authentic his- 
 tory. By what it has endured and done, it may fall or 
 stand. Is it a success ? Or is it a failure ? 
 
 This argument from history requires discrimination. 
 Mere age makes out nothing decisive for a religion. 
 
 (193) 
 
194 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 Religions in general are apt to bo long-lived ; longer- 
 lived than civil politics. Republics supplant Empires, 
 and Empires Republics, much more easily, and much 
 oftener, than one Religion supplants another. The 
 Osiris worship of Egypt, the Sabseanism of Mesopo- 
 tamia, the Baal worship of Phoenicia, the mythologies 
 of Greece and Rome, all lasted many centuries ; and, 
 while they lasted, might have made an argument of 
 their longevity. But they are all dead now, and out of 
 the way far enough. Nobody names either one of them 
 as a rival of Christianity. There is no call to argue 
 them down. They are down already. It is enough to 
 say of them that they have passed away. 
 
 Brahmanism and Buddhism vary the problem for us. 
 Here are very old religions, which have not yet passed 
 away. And how do we know they ever wiU ? What 
 is to be said of them ? This is to be said of them, that 
 they are like the old dead religions in having a limited 
 domain. They stay within certain geographical paral- 
 lels and meridians, and subdue only certain nations or 
 races of men. Not one of them, ancient or modern, 
 has had much strength or currency outside of its own 
 native land. It matters little that these two of them 
 are still alive. They might as well be dead. They 
 march nowhither, fight no battles, win no victories. 
 
 Mohammedanism makes the problem a still nicer 
 one. Here is a religion, not merely of great age, but 
 of great expansiveness and versatility ; a religion of 
 Arabs, to be sure, at the^start, but no more confined to 
 Arabs than to Arabia. Swift as fire across a prairie, it 
 went from continent to continent ; for twelve hundred 
 years has it lived already; it numbers half as many 
 
WITNESS OF HISTORY TO OHBISTIANITT 196 
 
 converts as Christianity itself ; and in Africa at least, 
 is spreading still. What shall be said of it ? Not, I 
 hope, what used to be said of it so bitterly, that it is 
 sheer imposture and conflagration from first to last. 
 There is truth in it ; these two great truths : that God 
 is, and rules. It began, too, as Christianity began, 
 with no sword but the tongue. From Mecca to Medi- 
 na its founder fled, as the founder of our religion, 
 when driven out of Judea, took refuge in Galilee. But 
 here the parallel ends. Christ went back to Judea to 
 be put to death. Mohammed went back to Mecca with 
 fire and steel. Every convert of his became a soldier. 
 In ten years the whole Arabian peninsula was swept 
 into his flaming fold. And in less than a hundred 
 years men were praying towards Mecca over a wider 
 territory than the Roman eagles had shadowed in 
 nearly a thousand years. Why was it? Why were 
 millions of men, of such diverse races, so widely scat- 
 tered, thus praying towards Mecca? Partly because 
 they had been persuaded to do so. The argument for 
 one God was better than the argument for many gods. 
 And so idolaters were vanquished. Then the worship 
 was simple, and the degenerate, sacerdotal, tawdry, 
 idolatrous Christianity of the Orient went to the wall. 
 Partly so. But such was not the beginning of the 
 conquest, nor such its ruling type. Had no sword been 
 drawn, Islamism must have stayed in Arabia, or have 
 gone but little beyond it. Doctrine, argument, persua- 
 sive speech came last. Force went flrst. For idolaters 
 the alternative was : Islam or the sword. For Jews and 
 Christians the alternative was : Islam or tribute. And 
 so the crescent shot along the sky. 
 
196 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 Christianity has had no such history. Its symbol 
 was, and always has been, a wooden cross. Now and 
 then it has drawn the sword, as Feter drew it in the 
 Garden ; but only to be rebuked, as Peter was. Its 
 beginning dates significantly from the Gift of Tongues. 
 Not sword, but sermon was to hew its way for it. 
 Fires might flame, and blades might flash, and chains 
 might rattle, and dungeon doors might creak, not for 
 it, but against it. It must spill no blood but its own. 
 Nor might cunning serve it. Wolves are fierce and 
 cunning both. The disciples of the Man of Nazareth 
 were sent forth like sheep and doves. Such was Chris- 
 tianity ; the Christianity of Gamaliel's time. Let us 
 see now what came of it. 
 
 Its first conflict was with Judaism, with which it 
 should have had no conflict at all. Judaism, then fif- 
 teen centuries old, was not human, but divine. And 
 Christianity had come out of it, as an apple comes out 
 of its bud and blossom. Judaism should, and might, 
 have fallen fragrant to the ground. Its altar-fires 
 should, and might, have been extinguished by some- 
 thing better than Jewish blood. Caiaphas should, and 
 might, have been the first Christian Bishop in Jerusa- 
 lem. The whole Jewish Priesthood should, and might, 
 have led the way from types to antitype. And the 
 whole Jewish people, in Palestine, and everywhere else 
 from Spain to China, should, and might, have accepted 
 the Prophet, of whom Moses spake. But madness 
 ruled the hour. They hanged their prophet on a tree, 
 hissing that awful prayer, which God has been answer- 
 ing ever since : " His blood be on ub and on our 
 children." 
 
WITNESS OF mSTOBT TO 0HBI8TIANITT 197 
 
 Many Jews, as we know, passed over into the Chris- 
 tian Church. More than six hundred by the personal 
 ministry of Christ Himself ; three thousand on the day 
 of Pentecost ; two thousand more soon after ; and, in 
 all, perhaps some ten or twelve thousand within the 
 first six years. Nor in Palestine alone. Outside of 
 Palestine the work went on. All over the Eoman Em- 
 pire, the Gospel message resounded first in Jewish 
 synagogues, and poured its consolations into Jewish 
 hearts. 
 
 But of the Jewish people, who numbered then about 
 five millions, only enough were saved to indicate the 
 wisdom and goodness of that Providence which had 
 given the Jews their place in history. Their most 
 learned and ablest Rabbi, Saul of Tarsus, who had 
 mastered all their science, went over to the new relig- 
 ion, convinced that Jesus of Nazareth was the Son of 
 God. And his voice rang all along the northern shore 
 of the Mediterranean, from Damascus to Spain, in 
 countless synagogues, as no other voice has ever rung, 
 before or since, entreating his countrymen to follow 
 him. It was their golden opportunity. And they lost it. 
 
 Judaism, they shouted, is final. Not Judaism, an- 
 swered the pupil of Gamaliel, not Judaism, but Chris- 
 tianity. This was the point at issue. In their madness, 
 the people thought they could tear the E,oman eagles 
 from their battlements and re-establish the fallen throne 
 of David. They tried, and failed. The whole nation 
 launched itself like a hot thunderbolt against the legions 
 of Eome. Such desperate fighting was never done be- 
 fore. At last, the cloud of wrath, which had been 
 floating over all the land, settled down over the Holy 
 
198 etbunjlL atonement 
 
 City Five montlis ' it hung there, raining fire : twenty 
 four thousand Jewish troops inside, thirty thousand 
 Roman troops outside, hurling defiance, and hurling 
 curses, in each other's teeth. Jerusalem was crowded 
 with pilgrims, gathered there out of nearly every na- 
 tion under heaven, keeping their last Passover. Titus 
 waved his helmet from the top of Scopus, and, with 
 one fell swoop, his legions closed in around them like a 
 wall of iron. That hot and awful summer has no paral- 
 lel in history. Only forty years before, some of those 
 same pilgrims must have joined in the cry, " Not 
 Christ, but Barabbas." Only two years before, their 
 countryman of Tarsus, the Aristotle and Demosthenes 
 of the Jewish race, had finished his course at Rome, 
 witnessing for Christ. Only one year before, the little 
 Christian Church in Jerusalem, warned of the impend- 
 ing bolt, had found refuge beyond the Jordan. Stub- 
 born Judaism, that had stoned its Prophets, and cruci- 
 fied its Messiah, stood there alone, guarding its altar. 
 If Josephus may be trusted, nearly one-fourth part of 
 the whole Jewish nation were within those relentless 
 Roman lines. And almost all of them miserably per- 
 ished ; temple and city perishing with them. From 
 sixty-two to sixty-five years later, five hundred and 
 eighty thousand more of the Jewish people perished in 
 another rebellion. There was no need of that second 
 blow. Judaism was shattered when, as foretold by 
 Daniel, the oblation ceased. Since then no smoke of 
 sacrifice has ascended from Mount Moriah. Since then 
 the story of our Christian sacrifice has gone round the 
 globe. And almost everywhere it finds the forsaken 
 ' From April 15tli to September 11th, 70 a.d. 
 
WITNESS OF HI8T0RT TO OHBISTIANITT 199 
 
 and scattered remnants of that ancient people, over 
 wlioie city the Eedeemer wept. Frederick William I. 
 of Prossia is said to have asked of one of his chaplains 
 the shortest possible proof of the truth of Christianity, 
 and to have got in reply : " The Jews, your Majesty." ' 
 
 The second conflict of Christianity was with the 
 Grseco-Eoman civilization. I shall not test your pa- 
 tience by reciting minutely the story of that conflict. 
 The world knows it by heart. Southwestern Europe, 
 Greece, Carthage, Egypt, and the Orient, the whole 
 theatre of ancient history, the whole garden of ancient 
 letters, art, and social refinement, now acknowledged 
 the supremacy of Rome. On her seven hills she sat 
 mistress of the nations. And her power was equalled 
 only by her pride. 
 
 Christianity, then just out of its humble manger at 
 Bethlehem, she greeted with contempt and scorn. Tac- 
 itus, who praised the virtues of Agricola, rebuked the 
 crimes and vices of Emperors, and challenged his coun- 
 trymen to admire the chaste and warlike Barbarians 
 then roaming in German forests, could see nothing in 
 Christianity but a mischievous superstition.' Nero's 
 persecution of it was, in his view, equally contemptible. 
 It was not worth its garments of burning pitch. In 
 his judgment, it had better be left to die as obscurely 
 as it was bora. 
 
 In this contempt of lettered men, contempt so in- 
 stinctive and utter, lay the safety of the new religion. 
 It thus had chance to grow. All over the Roman Em- 
 
 ' Bee Farrar's " Witness of History to Christ." London : 1870 
 p. 97. 
 ' " EsdtiabUis Superstitio." Annals xv. 44. 
 
200 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 pire, its roots went down into the soil unnoticed. After 
 a hundred years, its branches were in all the air. There 
 were at least two or three millions of Christians. And 
 after the fall of Bar Ohocab, 136 a.d., nobody thought 
 of confounding them any longer with the Jews. They 
 were a people by themselves, sifted out of society, or- 
 ganized, drilled, and handled by their leaders, as no 
 other religious body ever had been. They could no 
 longer be ignored. And then the leaven had been 
 working upwards, as well as downwards, among the 
 people. The commercial middle class furnished many 
 converts. By and by philosophers and scholars began 
 to come over : such men as Aristides, Quadratus, Justin 
 Martyr, and many more, who had gone round the circle 
 of human thought, and found no rest till they found it 
 in the Christian system. These men boldly proclaimed 
 the new faith as the final philosophy. Christianity 
 could no longer be despised. Books had been written 
 in its defence, and these books must be replied to. 
 Then there came out on the heathen side such cham- 
 pions as Fronto, Lucian, and Celsus, learned and witty 
 men, attacking Christianity with every known weapon 
 of argument, abuse, and raillery. 
 
 By and by, persecution began in terrible earnest. 
 There had been something of it before, something of 
 it from the start even ; fanatical Jews setting the ex- 
 ample. It was, however, chiefly the work of mobs, 
 stirred up and hounded on by men whose interests 
 were imperilled. Of the Emperors, only Nero and 
 Domitian, and they for reasons of their own, had dip- 
 ped their hands willingly in Christian blood. Now, 
 soon after the middle of the second century, persecu- 
 
WITNmS OF HISTOBT TO OHBISTIANITT 201 
 
 tion began to be a part of the imperial policy. It was 
 assumed, that the old Eoman religion was essential to 
 the welfare of the Eoman State. It was seen, that 
 Christianity was getting the better of that old Roman 
 religion. Christianity must therefore be put down. 
 Bad Emperors, like Commodus and Heliogabalus, who 
 cared nothing for the welfare of the State, let the new 
 religion alone. Able, patriotic, high-toned Emperors, 
 like Marcus Aurelius, Decius, and Diocletian, could not 
 let it alone. Persecution was logical. And the logic, 
 like all true logic, had no mercy in it. Those consum- 
 mate statesmen knew their task, and went at it with all 
 their might. Of the last two, Decius and Diocletian, 
 it was the avowed purpose to tear up Christianity by 
 the roots. Those were times of awful agony- — the two 
 years of Decius, the ten years of Diocletian — when the 
 powerful Eoman Empire, shutting the gates of the 
 amphitheatre, leaped into the arena face to face with 
 the Christian Church. When those gates were opened, 
 the victorious Church went forth, with the baptism of 
 blood on her saintly brow, bearing a new Christian Em- 
 pire in her fair, white arms. 
 
 It only remained for heathen frenzy to contest this 
 verdict of Providence, as Jewish frenzy had contested 
 the verdict of Providence in Palestine. Philosophers 
 had been for some time at work, elaborating what we 
 call the New Platonism. It was a strange conglom- 
 erate. It taught one God in the lecture-room; it 
 preached many gods in the market-place. It dis- 
 coursed loftily of union with God ; it stooped to mag- 
 ical arts and rites. It prescribed austerity of moral 
 life, and tried to rival even the charities of the Christian 
 
202 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 Church. This was the informing spirit of that notable 
 reaction and revival of heathenism, which found a fit 
 champion in Julian. An accomplished soldier, an able 
 statesman, gifted with real genius, ardent in study, 
 chaste, temperate, and burning with zeal for the old 
 religion, he resolved to put the new religion down. Did 
 he do it ? In less than two years after mounting the 
 throne of the Caesars, he fell in battle beyond the 
 Tigi-is, pierced by a Persian arrow. The bitter confes- 
 sion, " Thou hast conquered, O Galilean," is not, in- 
 deed, authentic. But there was no need of the confes- 
 sion. The Galilean had conquered. Tou say he died 
 too early to .have the experiment decisive. His con- 
 temporaries did not say so, did not think so. That 
 brief Pagan reaction was only the spasm of a dying 
 system. The arrow that pierced Julian's side, pierced 
 its side also. And now the fallen Emperor Kes sleep- 
 ing in his grave at Tarsus, the birthplace of the Great 
 Apostle of the Gentiles. 
 
 But Christianity, you tell me, did not save the life 
 of the Roman Empire. No, it came too late for that. 
 But Christianity prolonged that life ; by a century or 
 two in the Occident, by six or eight centuries in the 
 Orient. 
 
 But I must hasten to speak of the next, the third, 
 great conflict of Christianity. Eor nearly three hun- 
 dred years before the "Western Empire fell, hordes 
 of Teutonic barbarians were pressiug down upon it. 
 But long before they conquered the Romans, the Gos- 
 pel had begun to conquer them. In German forests 
 beyond the Danube, Christian captives, snatched from 
 their homes in Asia Minor, were the first evangelists. 
 
WITNEBB OF HIBTOBT TO OHBIBTIANITT 203 
 
 They had to learn a new language, the old Gothic, 
 mother of the modern German, mother of our own fa- 
 miliar English tongue. It had then no alphabet. The 
 men that spoke it had no culture. In a hundred years, 
 those rude barbarians were reading their Gothic Bibles. 
 From tribe to tribe the sacred message ran, from Visi- 
 goth to Ostrogoth, from Yisigoth to Vandal, till^ in 
 another hundred years, as Niebuhr thought, the bar- 
 barian conquest of Rome was essentially a Christian 
 conquest. Orosius and Augustine both praise the con- 
 querors. 
 
 No doubt they were a noble race. But there re- 
 mained a great deal to be done for them. Some of the 
 conquering tribes were still heathens. And all were 
 rude. But Christian faith failed not. Christian courage 
 faltered not. From generation to generation, the mis- 
 sionary work went on, till at last the whole Teutonic 
 race in Europe, now numbering well-nigh eighty mill- 
 ions, took on a Christian civilization, highei', stronger, 
 more radiant than that of Greece and Rome. 
 
 The Kelts, now numbering about nine millions, were 
 also evangelized ; most of them before the fall of the 
 Western Empire. The Slaves, now numbering nearly 
 eighty millions, came later. But they also are in the 
 Christian fold. So also are the Scandinavians, one of 
 the finest races in history, now numbering some eight 
 millions, whose old mythology is richer and grander 
 than that of ancient Greece, and whom it took two 
 centuries to conquer. 
 
 And not one of the nobler historic peoples, Greek, 
 Roman, Teutonic, Keltic, Slavic, or Scandinavian, once 
 evangelized, has ever let go its hold of the Gospel. The 
 
204 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 decayed churches of the Orient are only decayed, not 
 dead. Standing even over the Latin Church, the Master 
 might say again, " The maid is not dead, but sleepeth." 
 Greece and Italy are Christian kingdoms to-day. Not 
 one of the great Christian sects of the Orient, so roughly 
 handled by the Saracens, has been destroyed, while the 
 tide that went over them is evidently going out. Mo- 
 hammedanism has nearly finished the work of ven- 
 geance and discipline it was sent to do. The Turks them- 
 selves are saying, " These are the last days." The 
 Christian peoples are lifting up their heads once more 
 with the feeling that their redemption draweth nigh. 
 Unless the signs all lie, the time is not distant, when 
 those old classic lands, the cradle and early garden of 
 our Christian faith, will be brighter than they were at 
 first. 
 
 The fourth great conflict, of which it remains to 
 apeak, is now in progress. I do not mean the conflict 
 with science. This, I admit, is sharp enongh just now ; 
 and many good people are distressed and alarmed about 
 it. But the distress and alarm are needless. No doubt 
 there is a great deal of scepticism all around us : more 
 than there was twenty-five years ago, more than there 
 was ten years ago. But there are tidal waves in all 
 human affairs, and scepticism, like everything else, 
 comes and goes on its endless round. Christianity has 
 had a great many concussions, and excitements, of one 
 sort and another from first to last. Thoughtful men 
 have not been able to let Christianity alone ; sometimes 
 speculating wildly inside, sometimes striking rather 
 wildly outside. In the second and third centuries, 
 Gnostics J in the fourth and fifth, Manicheans ; in the 
 
WITNMS8 OF EISTOBT TO GHBiaTIANITT 205 
 
 twelfth, a great deal of scepticism ; and in the fifteenth, 
 a great deal, as much as there is now, if not more. At 
 times, things have looked rather dubious, perhaps ; 
 rebel cannon bellowing on the shore, and the bay all 
 lighted up by floating fire-rafts. But every time Chris- 
 tianity sails through it all like an iron-clad. The great 
 mass of Christians never troubled themselves about the 
 Gnostics. Augustine made an end of Manicheism. 
 The great schoolmen of the thirteenth century silenced 
 the sceptics of the twelfth. And out of the scepti- 
 cism of the fifteenth century, came the reaction that 
 culminated in the Protestant Keformation. 
 
 Christianity, the mother of universities, the nurse 
 and patron of all high study, has no fear of science ; 
 least of all that science that deals with material things. 
 Go as far as science can, up or down, with spectrum or 
 microscope, she never sets her eyes on the beginnings 
 of things. Life remains still a mystery. And the in- 
 tuitions of the humblest thinker are grander than the 
 stars shining in their solemn depths. 
 
 JSTo. The real strain and conflict of our day, are of 
 quite another sort, more practical. Christianity tri- 
 umphed over the Grseco-Koman civilization ; has tri- 
 umphed in Mediaeval and Modern Europe; has, in 
 short, conquered all the best races in history thus far. 
 !N"ow, can it conquer to the bottom, as it has already 
 conquered to the top ? Can it bring the whole human 
 family, its lowest peoples with its highest, into one 
 common fold ? Can it evangelize the Chinese, Japanese, 
 Polynesians, AiMcans, North American Indians ? Can it 
 evangelize its own cities, going down into the cellars, 
 np into the garrets of its own heathens here at home ? 
 
206 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 Hard as the task may be, Christianity stands squarely 
 committed to it. If Christianity fails in this its su- 
 preme endeavor, it is not of God. But it will not fail. 
 What it can do, may be known from what it Jkis done. 
 In dealing with the barbarism of barbarians, it has cer- 
 tainly touched bottom amongst the Zulus and Hotten- 
 tots of the Eastern Hemisphere, amongst the Hawaiians 
 of the Western. It now stands face to face with the 
 barbarism of the civilized, the reeking slum of our 
 Christian cities. I am more afraid of this barbarism 
 of the civilized than of the barbarism of barbarians. 
 But I am not afraid of either. We have carried the 
 Gospel into the huts of the Bushmen; we shall yet 
 carry it into every cellar and every garret of every 
 Christian city. Last in the train, but sure to join it, 
 are our civilized barbarians. 
 
 Let us be of good courage. It is not long we shall 
 have to wait. 
 
XlII 
 
 THE ROCK IN THE DESERT 
 
THE EOCK IN THE DESERT 
 
 " For tliey drank of that spiritual Bock that followed them : ana 
 that Bock was Christ." — 1 Corinthiaiis x. 4. 
 
 Allusion is here made to a familiar but most im- 
 pressive chapter in the annals of the Hebrew people. 
 The whole nation, from the feebleness of age to the 
 feebleness of infancy, in all more than two millions of 
 souls, had just been led up out of Egypt, from beneath 
 the shadow of the pyramids, from beneath the colder 
 shadow of Pharaonic tyranny, by a series of stupendous 
 miracles. Ten times had the Divine arm fallen heavily, 
 smiting the river, smiting the land, and smiting its in- 
 habitants, till the choked and wailing voice of Egypt 
 told God's people that they might go. The Eed Sea 
 had laid bare for them its sandy bottom. They had 
 shouted forth their anthem in alternate strains, the voice 
 of Moses leading the men, the timbrel and voice of 
 Miriam leading the women, over the broken chariots 
 and the annihilated host of their pursuers. And now 
 they were moving on, by short and toilsome marches, 
 across the Arabian Peninsula. From Elim with its 
 twelve wells of water, and its whispering palm-trees, 
 they had come panting and parched with thirst to Keph- 
 idim. Here at about noon-day, as we may suppose, 
 they halted; halted at what they hoped might be an 
 
 (209) 
 
210 BTEBNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 oasis in the desert. But they found no water. The 
 pitiless Asiatic sun was flaming on them out of a cloud- 
 less sky, while only rocks and sand glared on them out 
 of the bleakness of the desert. Hope, during the march, 
 had enabled them to bear their thirst with patience. 
 But now their hearts fainted within them. Why have 
 we been brought up here out of Egypt, murmured they, 
 to perish in the wilderness ? And they were answered 
 by a miracle. The rod of Moses, once used in smiting 
 the iN^ile to redden it with blood, is now again uplifted 
 before them. And from that flinty rock in Horeb, 
 smitten in mercy by the Prophet, there gushes an 
 abundant stream for the refreshment of all the host. 
 
 And that rock, we are told, did follow them. By 
 which is meant simply that the good providence of God 
 went with them, pouring forth its daily bounties, through 
 all their pilgrimage. For forty years were they nour- 
 ished in the wilderness. The heavens gave them bread, 
 and streams ran for them in the desert. It was just as 
 though that gushing rock did follow them. 
 
 In our text it is called a ^vritual Kock, because it 
 had a spiritual significance, being typical of Christ. 
 We therefore have an interest in that smitten Kock ; an 
 interest not merely of wonder at the miracle performed, 
 but also of reverence for the meaning of it. For us, 
 not less than for those suflfering Hebrews, gushed forth 
 the gurgling stream ; for that smitten Kock was Christ. 
 That is, it pointed forward to, was typical of Christ. 
 
 Ton have thus the germ of my discourse this morn- 
 ing. I wish to speak of Christ as the Kock smitten 
 for us in the Desert. Our plan will be therefore to 
 consider, first the Desert, and then the Kock. 
 
THE BOOK IN THE BESEBT 211 
 
 I. And first, the desert. What is it ? Our life upon 
 the earth, we say, is the desert, and we are pilgrims 
 over it. Our sinful parentage is our Egypt, and death 
 the Jordan we are at last to cross. What lies between 
 these two boundaries is therefore the desert of our wan- 
 derings. It is our life. I^ot that the analogy is per- 
 fect. Not that this world is in every sense a wilder- 
 ness. Not that there is even so much as a preponder- 
 ance of evil. For I am thoroughly persuaded that the 
 reasonsyw living are, to most hearts, more numerous 
 and more weighty by far than the reasons which are 
 against it. And yet it remaineth true, that this earthly 
 life is not the land of promise to us, is not the Canaan 
 of our rest, is only the scene of our pilgrimage. Though 
 on the whole a boon, it has still its sorrows. There are 
 aspects under which it may be regarded as a desert. 
 Consider for a moment what it is that renders a desert 
 formidable. To the Arabian dromedary it is, as we 
 know, what the sea is to a sailing ship ; almost what 
 the air is to a winged bird. But not so with man. His 
 nature is not so well suited to those trackless wastes. 
 He cannot feel at home there. He sighs for the green, 
 cool sod, for the waving canopy of trees, for the per- 
 fumed breeze and the gargling stream. And is not this, 
 so far as it goes, a true picture of our life upon the 
 earth ? We were not made to feel at home here. Man- 
 ifold adjustments and adaptations, I know there are, 
 which witness decisively for the benevolence of the 
 hand which made us, and made the world we dwell in. 
 But along with these, we notice also, at many points, a 
 strong dislocation and derangement, a want of propor- 
 tion and of harmony between ourselves and our environ- 
 
212 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 ment. Many tokens are there of the transient nattire 
 of onr residence ; tokens that we are only strangers and 
 pilgrims, as all our fathers have been, as all our chil- 
 dren will be. 
 
 Now it is a loss of property. Reverses overtake us 
 and the fortune, or the competency, which it took years 
 of toil to gather, is scattered as in a moment. Now it 
 is a loss of health. With sunken cheeks, and pallid 
 brow, and faltering foot, the pulse-beat feverish, and 
 the strong arm unnerved, it becomes a weariness to 
 live. And now it is a loss of friends. The loved and 
 the tenderly cherished shut their eyes on us, that they 
 may open them on God. Angels rob us of our treas- 
 ures ; and their footprints, as Richter says, are graves. 
 With streaming eyes and crushed hearts, we unclasp 
 oar frenzied arms, to let the winged spirit fly. But 
 that one agony never ceases to thrill us. The chamber 
 where we wrestled with the guardian angel, never loses 
 the echo of that unequal strife. The last conscious 
 glance of the departing spirit quivers on our vision 
 forevermore. 
 
 To have lost a loved one, be it a sweet child, be it a 
 fond companion, or be it he that begat, or she that bore 
 UB, is to have incurred a sorrow that is never healed. 
 Years may roll away, and our brows may knit them- 
 selves again to our daily tasks, but there rests always 
 a shadow upon the heart. The vanished feet still 
 walk, and the silenced voice still whispers, in our 
 dreams. Who of us is not this very moment saddened 
 by his remembrance of the dead ? On whose inward 
 vision rises there not now more than one dear image of 
 departed worth? The fond, the pore, the noble-heart- 
 
THE BOOK IN THE BBmET 213 
 
 ed who of us have not wept over them at their burial ? 
 Ai-d did not our very hearts go down with them to the 
 grave ? And can we be ever again on earth so light- 
 hearted as we were before ? No, no, my hearers. To 
 have wept in anguish, were it only once, is to have lost 
 forever the transparent gladness of the heart. Through 
 the ministry of grief there has a change passed over 
 us ; and neither earth, nor sky, nor sea, nor man can 
 again be to us what they were. With altered eyes we 
 look forth upon an altered world. Life, that once 
 seemed so like a garden, has now become a desert to 
 our hearts. The dead are they that walk the earth ; 
 the living are above us and about us, waiting to have 
 US join them. But, to say nothing of what is lost, who 
 needs be reminded of the countless prizes which we 
 may sigh for, but have never gained ? Who needs be 
 told of the shortcomings and the hardships of our 
 earthly course ? To no man is life a holiday. To most 
 men is it a scene rather of feverish and but poorly re- 
 quited toil. Even in the lowest department of our 
 cares, how small is the number of those who are above 
 being anxious about the supply of their daily wants. 
 How much time and how much thought it takes to 
 keep our bodies comfortably fed and clothed and shel- 
 tered. How large a portion of our race do little else 
 than labor for their daily sustenance. " Give us this 
 day our daily bread," is the petition framed for us by 
 our Lord Himself. And then, as we go beyond these 
 wants, and our ambition takes a lordlier sweep, whether 
 it be wealth, or learning, or the seat of power that is 
 craved, how few of us are ever entirely gratified. For 
 one that triumphs, there are scores that fail. Who 
 
214: ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 needs Ije told that broken purposes, thwarted aspira- 
 tioiis, and disappointed hopes lie strewn, like silenced 
 cannon, and like dying men, along the line of a retreat- 
 ing army ? 
 
 The one secret of all this suffering is to be sought 
 for in the contradiction which is found to exist between 
 our circumstances and our endowments. Brain and 
 heart are both too large for us. The inward force is 
 too aspiring and too expansive for the low and narrow 
 tenement which it inhabits. Our immortality is a boon 
 that costs us dear. The aspirations it gives lise to, 
 make our life in this world seem paltry, and its cares 
 a curse. We are all of ns like kings in exile. We have 
 lost our thrones, and are pawning onr jewels for our 
 daily bread. 
 
 But these are not onr only, nor by any means onr 
 chiefest, sorrows. The greatest burden, and the sad- 
 dest blight-of all, is the sense we have of sin. Oh, this 
 miserable, oppressive, harrowing sense of guilt ! Tears 
 ago we committed an offence. Yesterday we sinned. 
 And all the period between is dark with remorseful 
 memories. To be constrained to chide one's self for 
 having done amiss, to be compelled to bear about with 
 us, wherever we go, the feeling of unworthiness, the 
 pangs of self-reproach, and the blush of shame. Oh ! 
 tills is the real tragedy of life. With such burdens it 
 ie impossible to feel quite at ease. The soul has no 
 perfect rest. And the disquiet there is within seems 
 to pass forth and fasten upon the world. 
 
 " It is the soul's prerogative, its fate, 
 To shape the outward to its own estate. 
 
THE BOCK IN THE DESERT 215 
 
 If right within, then all without is well, 
 If wrong, it makes of all without a hell." 
 
 And so the world becomes a desert to tis, blighted in 
 its very aspect by the hot, sirocco breath of our inor- 
 dinate desires ; blighted and cursed in the whole pro- 
 cession of its pursuits and fortunes by the inward dis- 
 cord which ever reports and repeats itself in the out- 
 ward calamities of states and races. 
 
 But courage, my brother, courage. Even this blank 
 desert is better than it seems. Though it has no waving 
 wheat-fields, it has manna for its morning dew. Though 
 its sands be trackless, there move on always before us 
 the pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by 
 night. But in addition to all, and above all, though 
 there be no running streams,. there is the smitten Rock 
 ■ — the Eock smitten to assuage our thirst. 
 
 2. And that Eock is Christ. It is Christ, and only 
 Christ, that can slake our thirst, and still our murmur- 
 ings. 
 
 What men call pleasure only palls upon our jaded 
 senses. Chesterfield, in his old age, said of the world : 
 " I have enjoyed all its pleasures, and consequently 
 know their futility, and do not regret their loss." As 
 for gold, no wealth of Croesus ever yet purchased a 
 single night of refreshing sleep for a sick man tossing 
 in fever upon his luxm-ious couch. As for power, the 
 Alexanders and Napoleons have all shed bitter tears of 
 disappointment, either conquering or conquered. As 
 for wisdom, from Solomon to Burke, the wisest have 
 been also the saddest of men. As for friendship and 
 affection even, their idols are shivered one by one. 
 
216 BTEBNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 "Yanity of vanities," eaitli the Hebrew preacher, 
 " Vanity of vanities, all is vanity." All around us 
 sweeps the glimmering desert, vidth no refreshment for 
 us but what is furnished by the gushing rock. And 
 that rock, we say again, is Christ. 
 
 But who and what is the Christ we speak of ? I ask 
 not now for the teachings of Scripture concerning Him. 
 I challenge man's own aching heart for an . answer. 
 Tell me, thou baffled, worried, fainting human spirit, 
 tell me, what is the Christ thou cravest ? Is it only a 
 human brother ? Is it only an awful Grod ? Or is it 
 the two united, in a sweet but stupendous miracle of 
 love ? The answer cannot be slow or doubtful. Our 
 brains may stagger underneath this majestic problem 
 of an incarnate Grod ; but our weeping eyes wander 
 vacant till they find this sweetly beaming star, and our 
 home-sick hearts, prophetic of the awful majesty, know 
 no rest till they rest upon the bosom of the Man Divine. 
 
 Annihilate my faith in the God-man, Christ, the Son 
 at once of Mary and of God, and what, then, is life ? 
 My thoughts fly back along the centuries, and fly abroad 
 over the earth. What is it to me, that myriads behind 
 me in the past, around me in the present, have been 
 reduced from opulence to want ? What is it to me, 
 that myriads have tossed, or are tossing at this moment, 
 on beds of pain ? What is it to me, that myriads have 
 been traduced and tortured by lying tongues ? What 
 is it to me, that myriads of gifted and aspiring men 
 have gathered only ashes in their ambitious grasp? 
 What is it to me, that for six thousand years these hu- 
 man generations have been coming and going ? What 
 is it to me, that every human lip has quivered in an- 
 
TBE RODE IN THE DESERT 217 
 
 guish, and every human door-sill darkened beneath a 
 departing form ? What is it to me, that with every 
 swing of the pendulum, a life is ended ? These defeats 
 and agonies of others are no solace to me. Mere hu- 
 man fellowship in suffering and death, though this fel- 
 lowship be universal, is nothing to the purpose. When 
 my property, slowly earned, takes to itself swift wings ; 
 when my veins dilate and throb with fever ; when my 
 good name is slandered ; when my best plans miscarry ; 
 when my child gasps in death, and speaks to me no 
 more, it is to me just as if such things had never hap- 
 pened before. I am the one target and wreck of Prov- 
 idence ; I, and I alone. There is an immortal youth 
 and freshness of sorrow, as of the soul itself. Always 
 it strikes, as if it had never struck before. Like the 
 lightning, its path is always new. And then when I 
 come to die, I die alone, and death is as new and 
 strange to me, as it was to Abel or to Adam. 
 
 But, above all, when conscience awakes and tells me 
 I have sinned, what is it to me, that all other men have 
 sinned ? The Eoman poet may sing, that " to err is 
 human.'' I know it well. But it does not, cannot 
 quiet my own remorse. I stand alone. God is just, 
 His law a gigantic and awful presence, and I the only 
 sinner writhing in its inexorable grasp. 
 
 But give me now the God-man, Christ, and this 
 dreary desert of my sorrow-stricken, sinful life receives 
 at once its gushing rock. Show me the Son of Mary 
 in His Mothei"'s arms ; that Son of Mary, the eternal 
 child ; and every human cradle, sheltering its frail 
 treasure, shines in a heavenly light. Let me behold 
 Ham amongst the Doctors in the Temple, speaking 
 
218 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 with a wisdom not merely beyond His years, bnt be- 
 yond all human years ; and youth, with all its vanities, 
 is thenceforward sacred to me. Let me behold Him at 
 His father's bench at Nazareth, in daily toil for His 
 daily bread ; thenceforth there shall be to me no irk- 
 some drudgery in human tasks, and in humblest pov- 
 erty no sting. Let me behold Him at the Marriage 
 Feast in Cana, a cheerful but wonder-working guest; 
 and then this tenderest of human relationships, tender- 
 est and most exposed, shall find at once its benediction 
 and its shield. Let me see Him in Perea, beyond the 
 Jordan, benignly taking up little children in His arms 
 to bless them ; and then my child may go to nestle in 
 His bosom, without a murmur, if not without a tear. 
 Let me see Him at the Gate of Nain, breaking the 
 sceptre of the King of Terrors ; and then I can tell the 
 mourner to weep no more. Let me hear Him at the 
 sepulchre of Lazarus ; and then I shall know that my 
 brother, just lowered into his grave, is to rise again. 
 Let me behold Him in the last struggle upon the cross, 
 and then I too shall dare to die. Let me hear Him 
 bless the widow and her mites ; and then I shall know 
 it is worth my while to labor for Him till I die. Let 
 me hear Him commission His Apostles ; and then I 
 shall set my face, and advance my foot, with courage 
 to the conquest of the globe. Above all, let me behold 
 Him groaning in the garden, and praying upon the 
 cross, " Father, forgive them," while the earth reels 
 and the heavens shudder at His dying cry ; and then I 
 shall know, I shall Jcnow, that my sins may all be par- 
 doned. 
 
 Thus, and thus only, is the riddle solved. Thus, and 
 
THE HOOK n<! TUn DJESERT 219 
 
 llius only, is the Providence of God completely justi- 
 fied. We bow, dumb with pain, before the mystery 
 of moral evil, thrusting itself upon a system ordained 
 of God. We stand aghast as we behold a world, over 
 which the morning stars sang together, passing with a 
 wail into the shadow which sin has flung upon its path. 
 We ask, whether such a world as this, so full of disap- 
 pointments and defeats, of crimes and sorrows, of con- 
 suming sickness and of ghastly death, can be, indeed, 
 God's world ? Natui-al Theology may take its slate, and 
 cipher out the problem as it will ; asserting and prov- 
 ing an overplus of happiness. All praise to Natural 
 Theology for its good intentions and its good achieve- 
 ments. But what, after all, shall be said of the huge 
 mass of evil, which utterly refuses to be ciphered away ? 
 But let redeeming love shoot its beams into the dark- 
 ness, let the radiant form of the Son of God, incarnate 
 for human deliverance, be seen walking up and down 
 the furnace of our earthly afflictions, and straightway 
 the torturing problem is solved. We take up the line 
 of our march through the desert without murmuring, 
 when we behold the smitten rock moving on before us 
 over the sterile sand. 
 
 To us now this world is doubtless brighter than it 
 wonld have been without the heavy shadows of sin upon 
 it ; for in its sky has been set the Star of Bethlehem. 
 Our own nature has been dignified, as it would not 
 have been but for our fall ; for now God's own Son is 
 our Brother. Even our life of sorrow is glorified, since 
 those shining feet have traversed it so meekly from the 
 manger to the tomb. With this rock in our desert, the 
 desert shouts and sings. A great honor has thus been 
 
220 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 put upon us as a race ; greater than was ever put, or 
 ever will be, upon those elder sons of God, the blessed 
 angels, who are keeping their first estate. For verily 
 our Lord took not on Him the nature of angels ; but 
 He took on Him the seed of Abraham.' 
 
 But of what avail to us is this smitten rock, unless 
 we stoop to drink of its gushing stream? Of what 
 avail to us the presence in human history of this Divine 
 Humanity, unless we are consciously related to it by a 
 living faith? There is, indeed, our common human- 
 ity, which has been honored by this Incarnate Mystery. 
 We are, indeed, no mere aggregate of individuals ; we 
 are a race, gone down together in one common calamity 
 of sin and suffering. But we are also individuals; each 
 heart smitten with its own sin ; each heart knowing its 
 own sorrow. To each heart, also, there speaks the voice 
 of mercy. And each heart must answer for itself. 
 
 What shall our response be ? Christ's great, central 
 work is not teaching, which rivals the lessons of sages ; 
 not example, which rivals the exploits of heroes ; but 
 atonement, which scatters the clouds of Divine wrath, 
 and takes away our sin. 
 
 Christ entered our world, and assumed our nature, 
 on an errand of redemption. That Divine career cul- 
 minated in suffering. Whatever else our Lord might 
 have done or endured for us, all would have fallen short 
 of our necessities, had He not died for us. His cross 
 is therefore to be the grand central object of our 
 thoughts. And there is no solid joy for us in any 
 earthly pursuit or inheritance, no strength for us in 
 any earthly undertaking, no sufficient solace in any 
 
 •Heb. a.16. 
 
THE BOCK m THE BESEBT 221 
 
 earthly grief, no peace or victory in dying, till we have 
 tasted of Divine grace, and received the pardon of our 
 sins. Our first step towards Christ must be, therefore, 
 with bowed heads, and our hands upon our breasts. 
 Confessing our sins with honest shame and grief, we 
 must turn our eyes on Calvary for help. What our 
 Lord suffered for us, when He endured the buffetings 
 of eternal justice, must be the beginning of our hope. 
 From those Divine lips, pallid with agony, must we 
 pluck the assurance of our pardon. It is He that must 
 tell us, from beneath the shadow of His Father's hid- 
 den countenance, that our sins are cancelled. 
 
 I saw One hanging on a tree, 
 
 In agony and blood ; 
 Who Sxed His languid eyes on me. 
 
 As near the cross I stood. 
 
 Sure, never till my latest breatli. 
 
 Can I forget that look ; 
 It seemed to charge me trith His death. 
 
 Though not a word He spoke. 
 
 A second look He gave that said, 
 
 "I freely all forgive ; 
 This blood is for thy ransom paid, 
 
 I die that thou may est live." 
 
 Strange as it may seem to such as have never tried 
 it, this is the beginning of our only proper life. All 
 else is false and hollow. "Without the vision of an 
 atoning Saviour, joy is only frenzy, grief is despair, 
 life a failure, and death an overwhelming defeat. With 
 this vision, joy and grief are equally the sacraments of 
 
222 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 Providence, life a victorious march, and death a glori- 
 ous triumph over the last enemy of our peace. 
 
 That spiritual rock, we are told, followed the He- 
 brews ; followed them from Eg^'pt to Palestine ; fol- 
 lowed them through all their wanderings by day and 
 by night, summer and winter, in peace and in war, for 
 forty years. So, too, shall our Eock follow us. In 
 health and peace and prosperity, it shall pour its liba- 
 tions upon our gladness. In sickness, war and want, it 
 shall cool our fevered veins. In death, it shall moisten 
 our parched lips. Our feet, it is true, must still tread 
 the hot pavement of the Desert. Hardship and sorrow 
 must still march with us. Bat we need not sink dis- 
 couraged and murmuring ; for we are not to perish by 
 the way. Our course, in spite of all its windings, and 
 all its warfare, is ever onward towards the pleasant 
 land. " If there be a place," sighed the Eoman Taci- 
 tus, " if there be a place for the souls of the pious." 
 Such a place we know there is. 
 
 Sweet fields, beyond the swelling flood, 
 Stand dressed in living green. 
 
 There, and only there, may we look for rest, where our 
 great Captain has entered before us. Here upon our 
 march, the best we can hope for, the best we can ask 
 for, is the guiding pillar and the gashing rock. 
 
XIV 
 RECEIVING AND GIVING 
 
EECEiyiNG AND GIVING 
 
 " I home shewed you all thirigt, haw that so laJtmHng, ye ought to 
 support the weak, and to remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how 
 He said, It is more blessed to give than to receive." — Acts xx. 35. 
 
 Two things related of Christ reach us through chan- 
 nels outside of the four Evangelists ; and only two. 
 
 One of these two things is apparently a tradition of 
 Gethsemane. Luke reports the agony and the bloody 
 sweat. The writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews ' 
 makes mention also of " strong crying and tears." The 
 other thing is a saying of Christ, quoted by Paul in his 
 address to the Ephesian elders at Miletus, twenty-eight 
 years after the death of Christ : It is more llessed to 
 gwe them to recei/oe. Human selfishness is saying, as 
 Chrysostom reminds us, Let me receime to-day, and give 
 to-morrow. 
 
 " JSemember the words ! " This implies that the 
 saying was then current. And we cannot help asking 
 ourselves why so remarkable a saj'ing is not reported 
 by Matthew, who wrote his Gospel just about this very 
 time that Paul was in Asia Minor, and who makes a 
 specialty of reporting the discourses of our Lord. Nor 
 can we help thinking, that this saying is all the more 
 impressive for coming to us in the way it does. It now 
 
 ' Heb. V. 7. 
 
 (225) 
 
226 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 stands out in the sky like the evening star after sun- 
 set, all alone. Seven sayings on the cross were the last 
 in His public ministry which we expected ever to hear 
 from those blessed lips, so marble-white, so marble- 
 cold. But those lips seem now to move again, and we 
 hear them say, "It is more hlessed to gwe than to re- 
 
 I. We shall do well to consider, first, how good it is 
 to receive. 
 
 Pride, of course, is wounded by receiving. And 
 undoubtedly there is danger in it, more danger than 
 perhaps we think for. Charity runs the risk of en- 
 feebling the will of its recipient. Unfortunate people, 
 too sure of being helped out of any want or trouble, are 
 not so likely to do all they might have done to help 
 themselves. The monasteries of the Middle Ages un- 
 questionably encouraged and promoted pauperism in 
 relieving it, just as modern poor-laws have done, and 
 are doing. And so we are tempted to say, that it is 
 not a good thing at all to receive. 
 
 Eut we must not say just that. There is only one 
 Being in the universe who has need of nothing outside 
 of Himself. It puts a great strain upon our faculties 
 to think of Grod in His absoluteness ; but if He be 
 Creator, He must have been awfully alone before creat- 
 ing, and, to be happy, had no need of angels singing 
 round Him, and would still be happy, if they sang no 
 more, and the universe were all a blank again, vanish- 
 ing like a pufE of smoke from a passing railway train. 
 But for those angels, as for us, independence would be 
 rebellion. The finite is nothing without the infinite. 
 
BEOEiriNQ AND GIVING 221 
 
 Lungs without air, eyeballs without light, such are 
 angels, such are men, without God. 
 
 Some thirty years ago there was a frightful famine in 
 Ireland. Men were dying of hnnger on their cabin 
 floors ; and starving infants lay crying on their mothers' 
 breasts. It was not a blessed thing to starve and die 
 tliere on the cabin floor ; but it was a blessed thing to 
 see ship after ship, loaded deep with grain, from be- 
 yond the sea, come straining into port. 
 
 There is another hunger of the mind, which gnaws 
 with still sharper tooth. Nor is it a blessed thing to be 
 unwise, or ignorant. But if unwise, or ignorant, it is 
 a blessed thing to be advised and taught. And the 
 heart is always hungry. No man lives happily alone. 
 The wisest and the best is wiser and better for the 
 friends he has. 
 
 The water-lily, it has been finely said, lies afloat upon 
 the lake, but opens its petals quicker to the rain than 
 any flower of the desert. Sometimes the waves and 
 billows of Providence chill us to the marrow. And I 
 cannot call it blessed to gasp and shiver in the surging 
 tide. But it is a blessed thing to look out through 
 blinding tears upon a friendly face, and to feel the 
 touch of a friendly hand, though not a word be spoken. 
 
 "We have more need of one another, all of us, and 
 may do more for one another, than at first appears. 
 There was never a man so rich, as not to need some- 
 thing, at some time, which his money could not buy. 
 Never a man so great or learned, as not to need, at 
 some time, the honest judgment of some plain person far 
 less gifted, far less learned, than himself. Never a man 
 BO assured and happy, that trouble shall never come. 
 
228 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 Why should any man be too proud to receive ? or 
 have any pride at all in giving ? What have we, any 
 of uSj that we did not receive ? Houses, or lands, or rank, 
 or learning, or nameless gifts of head and heart ? Not a 
 thing is ours. The house you live in is only the porter's 
 lodge. We are tenants, servants, stewards, all of us. 
 What we get, or seem to get, of one another, has had a 
 long way to come. The only real giver is God. 
 
 But mere finite dependence is not the whole of it. 
 Deep underneath this sense of finite limitation, and 
 of absolute dependence, there bums and burrows a con- 
 suming sense of ill-doing and of Ul-desert, like fire 
 underneath the vineyards of Vesuvius. Our temples 
 throb, and our veins are hot, with the fever of sin. 
 Our Shepherd must drop the staff, to lift the sword. 
 Pity us, ye good angels, keeping your first estate ; pity 
 us, as well ye may. The anger of the Shepherd is hot 
 against us, and its heat is just. We have no excuse 
 to offer, no complaint to make. The probation was a 
 fair one. The man and the woman, free to stand, did 
 freely fall : the father and the mother of us all. " In 
 the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die." 
 And they died f Yes, and no. There is a better pity 
 than that of angels. " God is Love," may, or may not, 
 be a definition of His essence, but is nearer to it than 
 that other image of the consuming fire. Within the 
 vastness of His nature, unseen at first, there were hid- 
 den springs of mercy, in which the rugged mountains 
 of His justice mirrored their awful heads. God is not 
 One only, as philosophy has vainly sought to prove ; 
 but Three in One, as philosophy could only guess. 
 Hence tlie counsel, and the covenant, of redemption. 
 
RBOEIVINd AND GIVING 229 
 
 The Sou consents to suffer; the Father consents to 
 pardon ; the Spirit consents to renew and sanctify. 
 And now agaici the angels sing, hanging over the Ju- 
 dean hills : " Glory to God in the highest, and on earth 
 peace, good-will toward men." 
 
 And so we are saved at last ; gathered in out of the 
 wild pasture, and out of the stormy night. The strong 
 battlements of Zion are round about us, and the deadly 
 foes of our peace are all outside the gates. It was no 
 kind of merit of our own that saved us ; only grace. 
 We do nothing but receive. We give nothing. We 
 have nothing to give. Even these our own acts of peni- 
 tence and faith, of love, and trust, and glowing grati- 
 tude, are God's own gifts to us, or they had never been 
 ours to Him. The very melodies we make in prayer 
 and song, now of wailing over sin, now of glad hosan- 
 nas as we swell the triumphal procession of our Lord, 
 are struck from our heart-strings by the hand that 
 made us. And if ever we go in through the gates of 
 pearl, our song will be : " Unto Him that loved us, 
 and washed us from our sins in His own blood, and 
 hath made us Kings and Priests unto God and His 
 Father; to Him be glory and dominion forever and 
 ever." ' 
 
 Tell me, is it not blessed to receive ? Blessed to 
 come empty-handed, when beckoned by such a Giver, 
 standing laden with such a gift? Tell me, troubled 
 spirit, mourning bitterly for sin, and fearing the crash 
 of righteous judgment, is it not blessed to hear the 
 " Father, forgive them," of the dying Son ? Tell me, 
 fair, sweet child,' snatched from thy mother's bosom, 
 » Kev. i. 5, 6. 
 
230 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 like a rose by a whirlwind from its parent stem, tell 
 me, as thy little voice goes singing up, is it not more 
 blessed to be saved by Christ, than to be saved, if that 
 were possible, by being innocent? Tell me, saintly 
 veteran, lying down to die with thy armor on thee, 
 apostle, statesman, hero, poet, sage, tell me, is it not 
 more blessed, after all this warfare, to be saved by 
 grace, than to be saved, if that were possible, by any 
 doings of thine own? We have heard the answer. 
 Centuries ago it burst from gallant lips, on the eve of 
 martyrdom : " I have fought a good fight, I have fin- 
 ished my course "; with that ringing climax of humble 
 trust in atoning blood : " I have kept the faith." ' Give 
 me this humble, ardent fellowship of the Apostles ; not 
 that proud and icy fellowship of the Stoics. When you 
 see me dying, say not one word of all that I have done, 
 or have tried to do ; only remind me of what my Lord 
 has done, and I will reach out my hand to touch the 
 pierced feet which I see shining through the veil. Then 
 at last it will be safe for me to be forgiven. 
 
 II. And yet, though it be so blessed to receive, it is 
 far more blessed to give. 
 
 It is more blessed to feed the starving, than starving, 
 to be fed. More blessed to teach and counsel the ig- 
 norant, than, ignorant, to be taught and counselled. 
 More blessed to love, than to be loved. More blessed 
 to 'comfort, than to be comforted. More blessed to 
 forgive, than to be forgiven. More blessed to save, 
 than to be saved. The last is ours, the first is God's. 
 The last is privilege ; the first, prerogative. What 
 
 ' 2 Tim. iv. ". 
 
REOEIVING AND GIVING 231 
 
 poor, tattered prodigal, folded in Heaven to his F.i- 
 ther's bosom, shall ever interpret, to all eteraitj, the 
 throbbings of that Father's heart? Only God knows 
 God. " O righteous Father, the world hath not known 
 Thee : but I have known Thee, and these have known 
 that Thou hast sent Me." ' 
 
 Let us endeavor now to understand the greater bless- 
 edness of giving. 
 
 Giving implies having ; and the sense of having, is 
 one of our keenest pleasures. In its coarsest form of 
 material property, possession, mere possession is a great 
 delight. Land that has been in your family for gener- 
 ations, the house that your father built, or the capital 
 he saved, or what you may have earned and saved for 
 yourself, you may well think much of. They repre- 
 sent industry, frugality, sagacity, and self-denial. The 
 Mediaeval Church misunderstood that beautiful beati- 
 tude, "Blessed are the poor in spirit," preaching from 
 all her pulpits: "Blessed are the poor." Wealth 
 is not of necessity a curse, nor poverty a blessing. 
 Agur's prayer steers midway between the two : " Give 
 me neither poverty, nor riches." " If flushed and bloat- 
 ed wealth be not a blessing, so neither is pallid and hag- 
 gard poverty. If there be anything to choose between 
 them, it lies just here, that the faults and vices of the 
 rich are more accessible to rebuke than the faults and 
 vices of the poor. Wholesome and easy abundance is 
 better than either extreme. It is better for our man- 
 hood, that we have enough for daily comfort ; enough 
 for culture ; enough for hospitality ; enough for Chris- 
 tian charity. More than this may, or may not, be a 
 ' John xvii. 25. ' Prov. xsx. 8. 
 
232 ETBUNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 blessing. Certainly it can be a blessing onlj by being 
 accepted as a trust. 
 
 So of mental wealth. The Hebrew preacher, to be 
 sure, seems to make light of it. " For in much wis- 
 dom," he says, "is much grief; and he that increaseth 
 knowledge, increaseth sorrow." ' But it is mainly an 
 outward discomfort that marches by the side of grow- 
 ing wisdom ; such as strained nerves, and an aching 
 brain. If it he the heart that aches, chafing against 
 the bars and boundaries of knowledge, or envious of 
 another's fame, the fault is not in our science, but in 
 ourselves. Wisdom is better than pearls, and rubies, 
 and diamonds. Humboldt was richer than Rothschild ; 
 and more of a king even than Frederick William the 
 Fourth, his bosom friend. The instinct of the highest 
 genius is always practical. 
 
 As for our affections, the question is often asked, 
 whether they bring us most of pleasure, or most of 
 pain. Pain is, perhaps, the intenser experience of the 
 two. But who that has ever thrilled at the touch of 
 the diviner ecstasies of life, would refuse the risk of its 
 agonies ? Who that has suffered most, would give up his 
 joys to escape his sorrows? These finer sympathies 
 witness for finer and finer possibilities of living. Suf- 
 fering suggests service, and enriches it. 
 
 The best off are yet to be named. Obscurest persons, 
 for whom there seems to be hardly any place in the 
 world, who can only pray, and trust, and keep their 
 lives clean, will be envied by and by, when this world 
 has passed away, and only character survives. Others 
 also choose the good part, who might have chosen 
 ' EccL L 18. 
 
RECEIVING AND GIVINff 233 
 
 something else ; the rich and prosperous, honored, re- 
 fined, and cultured, who learn of Christ to be pare, pa- 
 tient, kind, and humble, looking not every man on 
 his own things, but every man also on the things of 
 others. 
 
 The hidden life is a great treasure. Fortune, rank, 
 genius, are nothing to it. And character is light. We 
 set it up on high, in towers, on rugged coasts. But a 
 candle in some cottage window may also keep a ship 
 from going on the rocks. 
 
 It is plain that the highest and best sense of possession 
 carries along with it the sense also of stewardship and 
 trust. Hoarded treasures invite moth and rust. Use 
 measures worth. There is no luxury to be compared with 
 that of giving. God knows no other. It is one of His 
 exclusive prerogatives ; He only, giving what is absolutely 
 His. But He does what He can to make us partakers 
 in this blessedness, by giving us the means and oppor- 
 tunities of giving too; His almoners. Real giving, 
 which asks for nothing, not even gratitude, in return, 
 is not impossible, but is very rare, and very fine. 
 
 In regard to property, it is simply the verdict of his- 
 tory since the world began, that men consume what 
 they use, and keep only what they give away. We 
 feed the hungry, clothe the naked, house the homeless, 
 nurse the sick, and get our reward at once, with ban- 
 quet, robe, and mansion as of angels. Money spent 
 upon ourselves, may be a millstone about the neck ; 
 spent on others, it may give us wings like eagles. 
 
 So of knowledge. A.8 mere knowledge, it may fa- 
 tigue and sadden us. iBut when we make it the servi- 
 tor of wisdom, and our wisdom the servitor of men, we 
 
234 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 have ascertained its worth. It is a luxury to learn ; but 
 the luxury of learning is not to be compared with the 
 luxury of teaching. 
 
 To pour light on darkened understandings, to open 
 paths through wild forests of doubt, to bring in bewil- 
 dered pilgrims, to point the head of the moving column 
 steadily towards the Shining City : these are the tasks 
 that never tire. 
 
 So of our affections. Who that ever loved, has yet 
 to learn that the joy of loving is incalculably greater 
 than the joy of being loved ? 
 
 What mother, fondling her first-born son ; what fa- 
 ther, watching his only daughter, as she blooms in 
 beauty before him, ever found such joy in the love re- 
 turned, as in the love bestowed ? The crowning glad- 
 ness of our lives is the gladness we get in giving. 
 Sympathy with the sorrow of another, is the best med- 
 icine for any sorrow of our own. The tears we shed 
 for ourselves, are often as bitter as the waters of Sodom ; 
 the tears we shed for others are sweet as the dews of 
 Hermon. 
 
 And what is our idea of the Gospel ? Is it for any 
 one of us the solitary plank, on which he is hoping to 
 float ashore? Or is it the life-boat, busy about the 
 wreck, and we pulling at the oars? Or call it the 
 bounty that succors want. Are we only its pensioners ? 
 Or also, and equally, its stewards ? And our neighbor, 
 who is he ? We meet him daily on the street. Per- 
 haps he rolls and riots in wealth, forgetting the God 
 that made him. Perhaps he crawls away at night into 
 some garret or cellar, reeking with a shame more foul to 
 angels than its filth to us. He treads the western prai 
 
BEOEirma and oiviNa 235 
 
 rie. He climbs the Kocky Mountains. He dips his 
 foot in the waves of the Pacific. He tosses his arms 
 in Europe. He sits h'stless in Asia. The sun is scorch- 
 ing him in Africa. His tent is pitched on the farthest 
 island of the seas. Behold our neighbor, ubiquitous 
 in every climate, in every land. Black or white, bond 
 or free, savage or civilized, still our brother; the same 
 blood in his veins, the same apostasy inherited, the 
 same eternity before him, the same Gospel suited ex- 
 actly to his needs. 
 
 But this Gospel cannot wade the oceans, nor fly upon 
 the winds, nor climb the garret stairs. The hands of 
 living men must carry it, the lips of living men pro- 
 claim it. And some must go afar, to darkest and hard- 
 est places. Whom shall we send, and who will go 
 for us ? Not the aged, whose sun is near its setting. 
 Not the middle-aged, whose sun is crossing the merid- 
 ian. But the young and strong; our brightest sons, 
 and our fairest daughters. " Had I been there with 
 my brave Franks," said Clovis, when he heard the story 
 of the Eedeemer's cracifixion, " I woiild have avenged 
 His wrongs." Bough, but ready. Not every kind of 
 person to every kind of place and work ; but place and 
 work, and will and way, for every disciple of us all. 
 Now we sow in tears; and the fields are cold and 
 brown. But by and by we shall see the sheaves, and 
 hear the shoutings. 
 
 What is best for individuals, is best also for the or- 
 ganism ; and not best only, but indispensable. Some 
 of us are getting tired of Christian Apologetics. The 
 arguments, almost any of them, are good enough for 
 such as believe already. But for the world, waiting to 
 
236 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 see whether it shall believe, or not, only one argument 
 avails. That argument is assault and victory. The 
 army which is always attacked, never attacking, will 
 have to haul down its flag some day. 
 
 The civilization which thinks it has done enough, 
 and is settling down to enjoy its treasures, has already 
 begun to squander them. The Church which has no 
 missionaries, will come at last to have no ministers. 
 There is peril, as we have seen, in human charity, en- 
 feebling its recipient. Like it, but greater, is the peril 
 of Divine forgiveness. Not what this Gospel has done 
 for you and me in oar closets, or even in our families ; 
 but what we are helping it to do for others : this settles 
 the question both for us and for it. Not what we get, 
 but only what we give, is any argument for others. 
 
 Art Thou He that should come, or do we look for 
 another ? . . . . The blind receive their sight, and the 
 lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, 
 the dead are raised up, and the poor have the Gospel 
 preached to them." 
 
 Verily, the Lord has come. 
 
 > Matt, xi 3-6. 
 
XV 
 PETER 
 
PETEK 
 
 " So lohen they had dined, Jesus saith to Bmon Peter, Simon son 
 of Jonas, lowest thou Me more than tJiese f He saith unto Him, Tea, 
 Lord; Thou hnowest that Ilove Thee. He saith unto him. Feed My 
 lambs. He saith unto him again the second time, Simon, son of 
 Jonas, lovest thou Me ? He saith unto Him, Yea, Lord, Thou knowest 
 that Hove Thee. He saith unto him, Feed My sheep. He saith unto 
 him the third Htm, Simon, son of Jonas, loeest thou Me ? Peter was 
 grieved because He said unto him the third iim,e, Lovest thou Me? 
 And he said unto Him, Lord, Thou knowest all things; Thou knowest 
 that I love Thee. Jesus saith unto him, Feed My sTieep," — John xxi. 
 15-17. 
 
 This occurred during one of the last interviews be- 
 tween our Lord and His Apostles, and the thrice- 
 repeated question takes us back to that cold and dismal 
 night of the thrice-repeated denial. 
 
 Men who feel they can afford to be thus honest after 
 this fashion of the Four Evangelists, must be very sure 
 of their position. Such honesty as theirs, could we 
 suppose it to be their own, and not of Divine inspira- 
 tion, honesty so transparent, not to say so chivalrous, 
 with so much at stake, is unparalleled. As biographers 
 of Jesus, they had indeed no occasion for reserve or 
 caution. They might prudently have reported the 
 whole of what their Master had ever said or done. 
 There was no mistake to be acknowledged ; no weak- 
 ness to be concealed. But the mistakes and weaknesses 
 
 (239) 
 
240 ETEBWAL ATONEMENT 
 
 of the personal disciples of Jesus, mistakes and weak- 
 nesses so abundant and so discreditable before the mir- 
 acle of Pentecost, and not wholly ceasing even then, 
 must have pleaded strongly for oblivion. 
 
 In this whole catalogue of scandals, with the excep- 
 tion of the betrayal of his Lord by Judas, there is noth- 
 ing so flagrant as the denial of his Lord by Peter. And 
 yet in all our Christian history, there is no record of a 
 repentance more bitterly sincere, or a recovery more 
 complete and triumphant. It was therefore wise to 
 make it so conspicuous. It was well that no Evangelist 
 should have omitted the story of Peter's shame ; it was 
 well that the last of the Evangelists should have re- 
 ported this final rebuke of Peter's sin. The Church of 
 Christ has now in this recreant but recovered disciple 
 a possession and a power, which she could not afford 
 to lose. 
 
 Be it ours to-day, to take fresh notice of this man 
 Peter ; his grievous sin ; his hearty repentance ; and the 
 bearing of it all upon our own individual experience. 
 
 I. First, of the Mem. 
 
 Christendom now calls him Peter, or Simon Peter. 
 But when he was circumcised, his father named him 
 simply Simon. Though of Hebrew parentage, his birth- 
 place was in Galilee, the most densely peopled, indiis- 
 trious, and thrifty part of Palestine, at that time pre- 
 dominantly Pagan. He was a native of Bethsaida, a 
 place between two bluffs, on a charming sandy beach, 
 about half a mile north of Capernaum, on the north- 
 western shore of the Lake of Galilee. Matthew, Mark, 
 and John, more provincial in their notions, call it the 
 
PETER 241 
 
 Sea of Galilee. But Luke, who was bom, probably, 
 either in Autioch or Troas, important commercial places, 
 and had consequently seen more of the world, calls it 
 more properly a lake. It was only twelve miles long, 
 and six miles wide. Then at least eight cities stood 
 upon its margin. "Eaw only two little hamlets are 
 there. But then, as now, its waters were singularly 
 clear, sweet, and cool. And then, as now, those waters 
 swarmed with fish. From this lake Simon and his 
 brother Andrew gained their Kvelihood. When first 
 brought to our notice in the Gospel narrative, they were 
 perhaps abeady men of mature years, in business by 
 themselves, since no mention is made of their father, 
 while James and John are spoken of as the sons of 
 Zebedee. 
 
 These two Bethsaidan fishermen, Simon and Andrew, 
 were both of them, probably, disciples of John the 
 Baptist, that last and greatest of the Hebrew Prophets. 
 Andrew we hnow was one of the Baptist's disciples ; 
 and Simon was not a man to be at religious variance, 
 if he could help it, with his kindred. At all events, 
 these two brothers were not divided in their Christian 
 discipleship. They both stood well with the Master. 
 But Simon bore ofE the palm. Some six months, or 
 thereabouts, before His crucifixion, Christ called him a 
 Bock : Peter, and promised to build His Church upon 
 the faith he had been so forwjvrd in avowing. Christ 
 being then in the extreme northern part of Palestine, 
 had asked His disciples whom they thought Him to be. 
 Peter's answer was, that he thought Him to be, not 
 merely the Messiah, but the Divine Messiah, and Christ 
 then said, Thou ar'; nirpoS, and on this nhpa of thy 
 
242 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 prompt and true confession I will build my Church. 
 He was one of the three, whom our Lord had with 
 Him on the Mount of Transfiguration. And this indi- 
 cates the rank he held in the esteem of the Master. 
 He had, indeed, no supremacy over others conferred 
 upon him ; he was not even our Lord's fa/uorite disci- 
 ple, John was that; but \h.Q precedencywBuS given him. 
 He was summoned to a sort of leadership ; first amongst 
 his offieial equals, but decidedly the first. And this 
 because he best represented, in his constitutional im- 
 pulses and elements of character, those two grand fea- 
 tures of Christianity, which best befitted its earlier 
 history : aggressiveness and organization. It was or- 
 dained, that the new religion in the first stadium of its 
 development should be Petrvne : striking right and 
 left ao-ainst Judaism and Heathenism in its earliest 
 evangelic fervor; and then fashioning the energetic 
 polity which was to endure for fifteen hundred years, 
 doing its appointed work, till with the Protestant Ref- 
 ormation the Paulms era should be ushered in. 
 
 Of the incidents which threw light upon Peter's 
 character may be mentioned such as these : His walk- 
 ing upon the sea to meet his Master, in spite of the 
 tossing billows ; his ardent avowal of faith in the Di- 
 vine Messiahship of Jesus, when others hesitated ; his 
 mistaken but loving rebuke of the Master, when He 
 spoke of suffering and death as the goal towards which 
 He was tending ; his impulsiveness at the final supper, 
 first refusing to let his Lord perform so menial a service 
 as to wash his feet, and then, when he had learned the 
 symbolic meaning of it, rushing to the opposite ex- 
 treme, and begging that not his feet only, but also his 
 
PETER 243 
 
 hands and his head might be washed ; his impetuosity 
 in the garden, not waiting for Christ to answer the ques- 
 tion put to Him, whether He wanted His disciples to 
 fight, but drawing at once his sword, smiting the high- 
 priest's servant, and cutting ofE his right ear. Putting 
 these incidents together, his character stands forth in as 
 bold an outline as that of Luther or Cromwell. He 
 was a man of great natural audacity and force ; coarse, 
 homely, rugged, stont, tenacious, powerful, of that class 
 of men, not large, who break down old walls, and 
 bring in new ages. And yet a man of variable im- 
 pulses, and of changeful moods. Under strong excite- 
 ment, he stood firm as a granite rock. Hence his sur- 
 name, Peter. But the quick heat might be quickly 
 chilled. And then the granite crumbled. The rock 
 became a sand-heap. His judgment could not always 
 be trusted. His feelings would sometimes snatch the 
 bit, and run away with him. So it happened on the 
 Mount of Transfiguration, when he was so beside him- 
 self with rapture, that he wanted to pitch tent and stay 
 there indefinitely. " Master," said he, " it is good for 
 us to be here, and let us make three tabernacles, one 
 for Thee, and one for Moses, and one for Elias : not 
 hnowimg what he said." ' His greatest strength was 
 sometimes his greatest weakness. His large, warm 
 heart overmastered him. It was hard for him to be 
 parted from his friends. It was hard for him to go 
 against the wishes and opinions of his associates. Even 
 those with whom he might be casually in contact, had 
 undue power over him ; not from lack of positive con- 
 victions of his own, but because his great, hungry heart 
 
 < Luke ix. 38. 
 
244 ETBBNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 craved sympathy and fellowship. He wanted men to 
 think well of him, and feel kindly towards him. An 
 overweening love of a'pprdbation was his one great 
 weakness. And so he lay, as such men always do, very 
 much at the mercy of his companions and his circum- 
 stances. John^s heart was a lodestone, that pointed 
 always steadily to the pole. Peter's heart was a lode- 
 stone easily disturbed and shaken. Of physical courage 
 he had no lack. In his rough, plebeian mould, he was 
 the very incarnation of it. It was boiling in his veins. 
 It was stamped upon his brow. It sounded in his 
 tread. But in moral courage, that immeasurably finer 
 and rarer sort, he was sadly deficient. 
 
 His personal appearance was doubtless in keeping 
 with his character. MaZalas, a Byzantine historian of 
 the sixth century, following probably an ancient, and 
 apparently an authentic tradition, has told us how he 
 looked : An old man of tall and massive frame, with 
 stooping shoulders, bald in front, both hair and beard 
 short, curling and gray, with large nose, dark brown 
 eyes, and eyebrows meeting. Sagacious he was, says 
 Malalas, irascible, variable, faint-hearted, speaking and 
 working miracles by the Holy Ghost. 
 
 That he was a genuine disciple, profoundly and pas. 
 sionately attached to Christ, cannot be doubted. He 
 had heard the voice crying in the wilderness, and had 
 left his nets by the margin of the sunny lake, to be- 
 come a fisher of men. It was not at the first summons 
 that he abandoned his worldly calling, and joined him- 
 self to the little company that followed the Carpenter 
 of !tTazareth. But when he did accept the proffered 
 discipleship, it was like the enlisting of a soldier. He 
 
PETER 245 
 
 took the soldier's oath of fidelity, buckled on the har. 
 ness, took his place beneath the standard, and waited 
 only for the bugle to sound his march. Such was the 
 man. 
 
 II. Zet us noUoe now the sin of Peter. 
 
 It was a motley crowd which accomplished the 
 arrest of Christ in the garden. There were Roman 
 soldiers,' under a Eoman captain ; the Temple Guard, 
 composed of Levites ; a company of busy priests ; the 
 soldiers and the Levitical Guard, no doubt well armed : 
 having also lanterns and torches, to make sure of their 
 prey ; and all led on by Judas. There was no need of 
 all this array. Christ at oncfe stepped forward to meet 
 them, and told them who He was. Surrendering Him- 
 self, He begged that His disciples might be permitted 
 to go their way. And they did go their way: all 
 but two of them, and these two as unlike one another 
 as any two men ever were, John and Peter, who 
 pushed on after their Master, close in the track of the 
 soldiers with their uplifted torches, and entered with 
 them into the palace of the high-priest an hour or more 
 after midnight. 
 
 This palace, according to the oriental plan, was built 
 around a quadrangular inner court, which was paved 
 ■with small round stones, and lay open to the sky. Into 
 this court there was an arched passage-way through the 
 front part of the palace, closed next the street by a 
 heavy folding gate, alongside of which was a smaller 
 wicket for single persons, kept by a porter. This pas- 
 sage-way was called the porch. And in this open 
 court, as the night-air was damp and chilly (it was 
 
246 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 April Ttli), a charcoal fire had been kindled, around 
 which the servants and soldiers stood warming them- 
 selves. To this group Peter joined himself ; this man 
 of brawny frame, and plebeian look, apparently that he 
 might pass himself oflF as one of the crowd that had ap- 
 prehended Jesus, while the Master, of whom he was 
 ashamed to'be known as a disciple, was undergoing His 
 examination before the high-priest, in an open hall, on 
 the ground-floor, in ths rear or on one side oftheconrt. 
 Here was Peter's first slip. His strong heart was suffi- 
 ciently committed to Christ to be willing to follow Him 
 to the high-priest's palace, and to make him watch 
 eagerly the proceedings going on against Him ; but 
 once in the palace, a false shame comes over him, and 
 he takes his place amongst the coarse soldiers clustered 
 about the charcoal fire. He is thus in a false position. 
 That position is itself, in advance of all his words, a 
 denial of his Lord. His rash act in the garden had 
 brought him into trouble. He was afraid of what 
 might come of it. It is noteworthy that the synoptical 
 Gospels, all written before Peter's death, are careful not 
 to say who struck Malchus. John, writing some twelve 
 or thirteen years after Peter's death, tells us who it was. 
 As they stood there over the fire, servants, soldiers, and 
 Peter, all mixed up together, the damsel that kept the 
 door, already knowing John to be one of Christ's dis- 
 ciples, looked up into Peter's face, and inquii-ed, " Art 
 not thou also one of this man's disciples ? " It was an 
 unexpected challenge. But John stood near by, to be 
 sure not as much compromised and imperilled as he 
 was ; but known as a disciple. And yet that sudden 
 question of the damsel shook Peter's manhood all out 
 
PETER 247 
 
 of him. " Art not thou also one of this man's dis- 
 ciples ? " Thou, as well as John there ? " I am not," 
 he answered. It was all done in a moment. Quick as 
 lightning was the cowardly answer ; and quick as light- 
 ning the remorse that followed it. He could not hear 
 the light shining upon his guilty face ; could not bear 
 the clear, calm eye of his brother disciple, looking 
 strangely at him ; and so he drew away from the fire, 
 and slunk back into the porch. Presently he heard the 
 cock crow.' Standing there in the shade of the arch, 
 his massive and solid frame and iron brow, belied and 
 belittled, his self-possession all gone, and not knowing 
 what to do with himself, another maid-servant came up 
 to him, and repeated the question, "Art not thou also 
 one of His disciples ? " ' And again the giant stam 
 mered, " I am not." An hour later, he goes back again 
 to the fire, thinking, perhaps, that his falsehood had 
 been believed, and that he would not again be troubled. 
 But a man of his stature and bearing is easily marked 
 and remembered. It is a relative of Malchus who 
 besets him, "Did not I see thee in the garden witb 
 Him ? " • And so it passed around, one saying, Surely 
 thou also art one of them ; and another adding. Thou 
 art a Galilean, for thy speech betrayeth thee. And so 
 they tortured the poor man ; John, the avowed dis- 
 ciple, remaining all the while unchallenged and undis- 
 turbed. Enraged and mortified, he conld bear it no 
 longer; but breaking over the bounds, he began to 
 curse and to swear, saying, "I know not the man." 
 And immediately the cock crew for the second time. 
 
 > Mark xiv. 68. " Mark xiv. 68. ' John xviii. 26. 
 
248 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 The light was now breaking in the east, over the top of 
 Olivet. 
 
 Such was the sin of Peter. There was really no ex- 
 cuse for it. He was in no personal danger. It was only 
 the man of Nazareth, not his little handful of followers, 
 that the Jewish Sanhedrim were hunting down. It 
 was only a momentary contempt that Peter, or any 
 other disciple, had any reason to fear ; contempt, too, 
 from servants and soldiers, who would think lightly 
 enough of the sheep, if only the shepherd was smitten. 
 Nobody cared for Peter. He was only a rude Galilean 
 adherent of the agitating impostor whose race was run. 
 Peter's denial of Christ was therefore most ignoble and 
 cowardly. 
 
 The paltry desire of standing well in the estimation 
 of those who happened to be about him, menials as 
 they were, had caused him to break fellowship with 
 John, and prove false to Him who was just ready to 
 be offered. Christ had washed his feet at the Supper, 
 and had prayed for him in the garden ; while he him- 
 self in hot blood had played his part like a true knight, 
 not counting the odds against him. " If I should die 
 with Thee," said he at the Supper, " I will not deny 
 Thee in anywise." And here he was, turning pale when 
 a damsel questioned him, and denying his blessed Mas- 
 ter with such oaths as he had once used on board the 
 fishing-boats of Galilee. Miserable man ! It makes 
 us blush to think of him ; so brave in meeting swords 
 and clubs, so cowardly in meeting sneers. 
 
 And yet, let ns be just to Peter, even in his dis- 
 grace. Compared with Judas, how wide the differ- 
 ence between them. Judas was a cold-hearted, selfish. 
 
PETER 249 
 
 scheming politician, bent on the emoluments of place 
 
 and power. 
 
 Of furtive mien, and scowling eye. 
 Of hair that red and tufted fell. 
 
 Whether it was money or power for which he cared 
 the most, he was at any rate a thief, embezzling the 
 common fund of the little band of disciples ; and be- 
 traying from time to time the essentially mean and 
 mercenary spirit of his life ; till at last, in despair of 
 using his Master for his own advantage, he betrayed 
 Him to His foes. 
 
 But the current of Peter's discipleship had been, for 
 the most part, clear and strong. It was not his nature 
 to be selfish and treacherous. It was only his one weak- 
 ness, this morbid thirst for the good opinion of men — 
 which in an evil hour falling suddenly upon him, hurled 
 him headlong into sin. He fell, indeed ; but like " a 
 just man" who, though he falleth "seven times," shall 
 rise again ; ' while Judas went down like Lucifer, to 
 rise no more. 
 
 in. Let us next notice his repentance. 
 
 This last profane denial of his Master took place, as 
 we have seen, where the first one did, near the fire in 
 the open court. Christ Himself heard this denial, and 
 the shocking oath that sealed it ; for He stood in the 
 Hall, where He could look out upon the group gathered 
 about the fire. And He heard, too, what Peter did, 
 the crowing of the cock, which announced at once the 
 breaking day, and the broken man. " And," says Luke,' 
 
 ' Prov. xxiv. 16. ' xxil. 61. 
 
250 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 " the Lord turned and loolted upon Peter. And Peter 
 remembered the word of the Lord, how He had said 
 unto him, Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny Me 
 thrice. And Peter went out and wept bitterly." " And 
 when he thought thereon^'' says one version of another 
 Evangelist, " he wept." ' 
 
 The reproving look of Christ, standing meek among 
 His buffeters, and soon to start for Calvary, was too 
 much for the false and recreant disciple. His old 
 memories of Christ came back upon him like a mighty 
 swelling tide ; and rushing out, through the porch, into 
 the gray twilight of the morning, the fountains burst 
 open within him, and he was buried in a flood of tears. 
 " He wept 'bitterly^'' they tell us ; and we may well be- 
 lieve it, for he was at heart a good, true, brave man, 
 and when he came to himself, he despised and abhorred 
 himself for the momentary weakness which had allow- 
 ed him so basely to deny his Lord. What his thoughts 
 were, we may partly conjecture, but not describe. The 
 whole past, no doubt, flowed back upon him. The 
 three years he had spent with Christ, night and day, 
 journeying with Him on His errands of untiring mercy, 
 as by a sudden flash, were all present in his quickened 
 memory. The wisdom of Christ in teaching ; His sub- 
 limity in prayer ; His constancy in labor ; His meek- 
 ness in bearing evil; and, above aU, that tenderness 
 which treated a whole guilty race like children ; smote 
 him with anguish, as with a stunning blow. 
 
 And then he thought of all Christ had been to hmi; 
 how Christ had put especial honor upon him ; calling 
 him a rock ; permitting him to behold His glory upon 
 ' Mark xiv. 72. 
 
PETEB 251 
 
 the mountain ; and setting, as it were, His mark upon 
 bim, as the one best fitted, by his daring temper, to be 
 the leader of His militant Church. And he remem- 
 bered, too, no doubt, all that which he had promised 
 to be to Christ ; the many brave words he had spoken ; 
 and, crowning all, that last saying of his at the Sacred 
 Supper, amid the very shadows of coming trials, " Lord, 
 I am ready to go with Thee, both into prison and to 
 death." ' 
 
 And now this miserable issue. He and Judas linked 
 together in remediless disgrace. Judas bought with 
 silver ; and he himself overpowered and broken by a 
 sneer. And before him stood the blessed Being, whose 
 name he had cast out of his cowardly bosom coupled 
 with a vulgar oath. And what was severest of all, no 
 anger darkened the Saviour's brow ; only meekness sat 
 there, mingled with the deepest grief ; and, brooding 
 over all, the heavy shadow of His hastening agony ; 
 His temples soon to be pierced by thorns ; and His 
 tender feet set to climbing the long and dolorous ascent 
 to Calvary. Through all of which, there beamed on 
 Peter this one mild, rebuking look. Judas might have 
 borne it ; or been driven by it to despair and suicide. 
 But Peter, never. For he had loved Christ; drawn 
 towards Him from the moment he had learned to know 
 Him as " the Lamb of God." He had stood with Him 
 on the Mount, and beheld His glory. He had walked 
 with Him on the tossing sea. He had reclined with 
 Him at the communion of His body and His blood. 
 He had fought for Him in the garden, his prompt 
 blade flashing for Him in the torch-light. He had fol- 
 ' Luke xxii. 33. 
 
252 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 lowed Him through the silent streets of hostile Jerusa- 
 lem to the place of trial. And now, shall this one in- 
 sane and cowardly denial erase and ruin all? No, no, 
 sighs Peter, I have fallen ; but I will rise again. I 
 have basely denied my Lord ; but I will follow Him 
 to His crucifixion ; I will watch His grave ; I will hail 
 His rising ; and then, till death release me, will I do 
 and suffer in His cause. 
 
 Such was the repentance. And do yon ask me if it 
 availed ? Seek your answer in his life. Three times 
 did Christ try him with the question, "Lovest thou 
 Me ? " since it was thrice that he had denied Him. And 
 thrice did he answer, " Thou knowest that I love Thee." 
 Meekly did he receive the delicately implied rebuke ; 
 and, till his dj'iiig hour, Christ had no warmer heart to 
 love Him, no bolder hand to serve Him. The rugged 
 and exceedingly manly and vigorous traits of his orig- 
 inal character, it is true, remained. It is indeed an 
 Apostle that appears before us in his laborious and 
 daring life, but the Apostle Peter, restless as the wind, 
 but, when braced to it by some grand excitement, a 
 granite man, as solid as a rock It was he that mar- 
 shalled the disciples after the Ascension to elect a suc- 
 cessor to Judas.' The Sanhedrim arraign him for 
 preaching Christ, and he defies their wrath by telling 
 them that he, for his part, shall obey God, and keep on 
 preaching. Ananias and Sapphira tempt God, by lying 
 to the Holy Spirit, and, at the motion of His stern 
 finger, they are smitten motionless in death. Simon 
 Magus would buy the power of working miracles, and 
 his answer is, "thy money perish with thee." Even 
 ' Acts i. 15. 
 
PETBB 253 
 
 when imprisoned, the Almighty Power of God seems 
 waiting upon him as its cherished minister, and the 
 prison doors fly open to let him out. 
 
 Through all these scenes, he strides before us, as with 
 an iron tread. He smites as with a mailed hand. 
 
 Only once iu all his career, as reported in the Scrip- 
 tures, does his old weakness come back upon him. In 
 Antioch he withdi'ew, they tell us, from familiar inter- 
 ceurse with his Gentile brethren, through dread of the 
 censures of his Jewish brethren ; and that, too, after 
 having himself led the way in breaking down the mid- 
 dle wall of partition. He thought so much of the good 
 opinion of men that it was hard for him to go against 
 their wishes. For which the Apostle Paul rebuked 
 him sharply. "I withstood him to the face," said 
 Paul, " because he was to be blamed." ' 
 
 Do you say, you are sorry that he erred that once? 
 It was nature, we reply, the old nature of the ambitious 
 and impulsive Peter, not yet fully conquered by grace. 
 And so his character stands before us in proportions 
 that do not appall and mock us as something quite mi- 
 raculous and above our reach. While we stand in awe 
 of him as an Apostle, we are able to embrace him as a 
 man, and walk on after him towards Heaven. Nay, 
 our interest in him is altogether peculiar. Majestic in 
 his original endowments, we admire him. Inexcusable 
 in his fall, we pity him. Elastic and fearless in- his 
 subsequent career, we accept it as a full and glorious 
 atonement for every slip and every error of his life. 
 If he was cowardly in the courtyard of Caiaphas, he made 
 up for it by being a hero at his crucifixion, when ho 
 > Gal. ii. 11. 
 
254 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 asked his tormentors to nail him to the cross with his 
 feet turned upwards into Heaven. Especially glad are 
 we that so much notice was taken of him after his re- 
 pentance. Mark this one circumstance. On the mom- 
 ing of our Lord's resurrection, there stood an angel by 
 the empty sepulchre, to proclaim to all comers the 
 glorious fact. And his words were, " Go tell His disci- 
 ples and Peter." ' 
 
 lY. The practical bearing of our subject is direct and 
 obvious. 
 
 It might not be quite right theologically, to thank 
 God for Peter's sin. But since he did sin, we certainly 
 ought to be very thankful for the record of it. Had 
 Judas alone offended, afterwards perishing by his own 
 hands, and sinking to his own place, Christians, once 
 sinning, might well grow desperate. Had Peter stood, 
 as John did, unshaken and unsullied, our hard struggle 
 with manifold infirmities would be far harder than 
 it is. 
 
 But now we have a sinning Peter before us ; an 
 Apostle grievously sinning, but grandly recovered. 
 And while we blush to look upon him, there is comfort 
 in the sight. It is true, he denied his Master, dia- 
 graced himself, and brought great scandal upon the 
 Church ; but he quickly repented and nobly repaired 
 the mischief he had done ; reckoning by thousands the 
 trophies of grace which he was permitted to gather in, 
 and making full proof of the sincerity of his faith, by 
 adding to it the testimony of his martyred life. I know 
 it is urged by some, that Peter was no true Christian 
 ' Mark xvi. 7. 
 
PETER 255 
 
 tUl after the shameful occurrence referred to iu our 
 text. But the words of Christ Himself to Peter seem 
 sufficiently explicit and decisive of the point at issue. 
 " Satan," said our Lord to the disciple, " hath desired 
 to have you that he may sift you as wheat, but I have 
 prayed for thee that thy faith fail not." ' He must 
 have been, therefore, a child of faith. That thy f with 
 fail not ; desert thee not. Faith then was something 
 which he had. And though it be added, " when thou 
 art converted strengthen thy brethren," the word con- 
 verted is used not in its absolute, but in a modified 
 sense. When thou art recovered to thy loyalty, when 
 thou hast got the better of this sin, strengthen thy 
 brethren. 
 
 With this understanding of the matter, it is plain — 
 
 First, that a Christian may sin. 
 
 And secondly, that sin will not be a habit with him. 
 
 Perfectionists tell us that Christians can commit no 
 sin, quoting the text, " Whosoever is born of God doth 
 not commit sin, for his seed remaineth in him ; and he 
 cannot sin because he is born of God." " And men of 
 the world are tempted to say that there is no essential 
 difiEerence between man and man ; but that we are all 
 sinners together and alike. 
 
 But these are both of them extremes of statement. 
 The truth is that a Christian may sin ; as JSToah sinned, 
 as David sinned, as Solomon sinned, as Peter sinned. 
 While it is equally true, that sin, as the ruling power of 
 the soul, its law, its habit, its delight, is overborne and 
 conquered. 
 
 To say all in a word, our Christian life is a battle, 
 
 ' Luke xxii. 31. ' 1 John lii. 9. 
 
256 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 and not a victory. Light and darkness are the an- 
 tagonistic forces. In the unregenerated heart there 
 is only darkness ; and with the darkness, peace. But 
 into the renewed heart the light has darted, and the 
 war begins. 
 
 Be encouraged, then, my feeble, imperfect, wavering 
 brother, not indeed to sin, nor yet to think lightly of 
 sin ; but if you have sinned, to go and sin no more. 
 Remorse belongs to Judas. Penitence to Peter. Pen- 
 itence, and a better life. Nor be surprised, should 
 Christ ask you thrice over if you love Him ; seeming 
 to distrust you. And shrink from no trial and no labor, 
 to which the Providence of God may call you. 
 
 John, we know, lived almost to the end of the cen- 
 tory, and then died quietly in his bed at Ephesns : a 
 gentle and fitting termination of a gentle and constant 
 Hfe. 
 
 But for an impulsive and rugged nature like that of 
 Peter, it was equally fitting that the stormy day should 
 have a stormy end. Not martyrdom alone, but mar- 
 tyrdom of the roughest character, awaited him. But 
 forewarned, he was this time forearmed. Clement of 
 Alexandria hands down to us the tradition, that his wife 
 was led first to martyrdom, as if to shake his courage ; 
 but he called her by name, and bade her " remember 
 the Lord." 
 
 And then he took his turn, in the Circus of Caligula, 
 at the foot of the Vatican. Only one thing he hoped, 
 that he might not falter. Only one favor he asked, 
 that he might be crucified head downwards, since he 
 would not accept the honor of too closely resembling his 
 Master, 
 
PETER 267 
 
 So by great doings, and by great sufferings, must 
 those who have sinned like Peter be prepared to vindi- 
 cate their Christian calling. The price is great ; but 
 BO also is the prize. Martyrdom it may be, but just 
 above the clouds a shining crown. 
 
XVI 
 CHARGE TO AN EVANGELIST 
 
CHAKGE TO AN EVANGELIST' 
 
 Mt dear Beothek: — 
 
 The ecclesiastical body, by whose authority and in 
 whose name we act, have now ordained you to be a 
 preaching elder, or presbyter. No other kind of or- 
 dained preacher is known to our polity. You are a 
 presbyter, ordained to discharge the office of a presbyter ; 
 no less, no more. Bnt with this distinctive character- 
 istic, that in the performance of official duty, you are 
 to have no local charge. And this makes you an 
 Eoa/ngelist ; who is simply an ordained minister of the 
 Gospel, in word and sacraments, without the particular 
 and permanent care of souls. As such it is now my 
 duty to address you, laying upon your conscience the 
 obligations which are dictated by the very genius of 
 the office you have thus assumed. 
 
 Tour office is not precisely the same as that of the 
 New-Testament Evangelists ; and yet resembles it. 
 Philip, Timothy, Titus, and others, were itinerant mis- 
 sionaries, sent to labor primarily amongst unevangelized 
 communities and nations. You are not going to the 
 heathen, nor to unbelieving Jews, nor even beyond the 
 
 ' Written for the ordination of the Eev. Edward P. Hammond, 
 as an Evangelist, at the Thirteenth Street Church, New York, Jan- 
 uary 3, 1863. Dr. Mark Hopkins preached the sermon on this 
 occasion. 
 
 (261) 
 
262 ETEBNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 bonndaries of Christian privilege in a Christian land. 
 But you are to labor amongst our established churches, 
 by the side of their chosen pastors, building thus of 
 necessity upon other men's foundations. 
 
 The New-Testament Evangelists rendered also this 
 sort of service ; but it was secondary. With you it is 
 the whole. The relationship of your office to that of 
 the settled ministry, is therefore a point of the first im- 
 portance for you to consider. 
 
 The work of the ministry, in its completeness, is a 
 large and exceedingly diversified work. Conversion is 
 only its root. Its trunk and top are all the virtues and 
 all the graces within the compass of the ripest possible 
 Christian culture. From repentance and faith, which 
 are merely rudimental, the believing soul is to be car- 
 ried onwards and upwards in a spiritual growth, as 
 manifold and opulent as human nature itself will bear. 
 Baptism, which ends the specific service of the evan- 
 gelist, is only the beginning of a career, the proper 
 guidance of which is a stupendous responsibility. There 
 is a Christian life to be unfolded in the atmosphere of 
 a Christian civilization. And wisely to direct this un- 
 folding, leading on the Church to discern and accept 
 its whole duty, from year to year, from generation to 
 generation, and from crisis to crisis in the world's af- 
 fairs, is a task, in the execution of which no amount of 
 native talent, no amount of scholarly acquirement, and 
 no ordinary amount of Divine grace, can be reckoned 
 superfluous. All that any man may have of sanctified 
 purpose, of athletic intellect, of various and solid learn- 
 ing, of alert sagacity, of eloquent address, all, and more 
 than all, is demanded in this great work. There is not 
 
OHAROB TO AN EVANGELIST 263 
 
 a science, nor an art, nor an accomplishment, known 
 amongst men, which may not be laid under contribu- 
 tion ; nay, which must not be laid under contribution, 
 if the Gospel is ever to subdue all things to itself, if 
 the life of Christ is ever to be reproduced in the life of 
 the race. The enlistment and mustering in of the host 
 of the Lord's anointed, must be followed up by the 
 severities of a protracted and patient discipline, or else 
 there will be no army marching to victory. And this 
 is the work of the settled ministry ; requiring, because 
 it is settled, and not itinerant, the utmost diligence in 
 study, exhaustless fertility of invention, and the widest 
 possible range of thought, of sympathy, and of service. 
 
 Your field is narrower than this ; your responsibility 
 restricted and initial, not comprehensive and final. You 
 are a recruiting oflieer for the army of the Lord. Your 
 proper and special vocation is accomplished when the 
 slaves of sin have been released from their fetters, and 
 have enrolled themselves as the servants and soldiers 
 of Christ. That they go on to perfection, that their 
 faith permeate their whole earthly activity, that they 
 bear nobly their part in relation to all the vital prob- 
 lems of their age, may be your parting injunction ; it 
 cannot be the chief burden of your ministry. Having 
 once snatched them from their bondage, and brought 
 them to Christ, you are to leave them, in quest of other 
 souls in need of the same deliverance. From this it 
 follows, that the doctrines you have to handle, must be 
 the more outstanding and elementary doctrines of the 
 Gospel. 
 
 Eepentance towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, are the two great themes which solicit; a per- 
 
264: ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 petual reiteration. Intellectually, this is an easy task, 
 as compared with the breadth and variety of ministra- 
 tion required of the settled pastor. And with the 
 Divine presence and blessing success in it is easy. A 
 constant handling of these supreme topics in the face 
 of fresh, crowded and eager assemblies, will train you 
 to great facility and effectiveness of utterance. If suit- 
 ably endowed by nature for this rousing and hortatory 
 work, the path of the Evangelist, as he glides from 
 congregation to congregation, is sure to be lined with 
 trophies. Crowds will hang upon his lips, and sobs of 
 penitential grief and shouts of believing ecstasy will be 
 the music of his triumphal progress by day and by 
 night. In your very success, my brother, will be your 
 peril. 
 
 First of all, there is danger of spiritual vanity, aveng- 
 ing itself at last in spiritual shallowness and poverty. 
 Elated by the victories of Divine truth, as dispensed 
 by your lips, yon will be tempted to overrate yourself 
 and your own attainments. I beg you to heed this 
 warning of a prophet: "Shall the axe boast itself 
 against him that heweth therewith? or shall the saw 
 magnify itself against him that shaketh it ? as if the 
 rod should shake itself against them that lift it up, or as 
 if the staff should lift up itself, as if it were no wood. 
 Therefore shall the Lord, the Lord of hosts, send among 
 His fat ones leanness ; and under His glory He shall 
 kindle a burning like the burning of a fire." ' 
 
 And then, in order to immediate, palpable success, 
 there is danger of being tempted to a use of forms and 
 measures of procedure, which may easily degenerate 
 ' Is. X. 15, 16. 
 
OHABGE TO AN JBrANOELIST 265 
 
 into the merest charlatanry. Be on your guard against 
 the fascination of all human arrangements and de- 
 vices. The less there is of visible machinery, the bet- 
 ter. The sword of the Spirit, in its unembarrassed 
 nakedness, has an edge which no art of man can im- 
 prove. Tour proper business is simply to preach the 
 truth as it is in Jesus ; not to organize and engineer its 
 victories. And you must not make undue account of 
 success, thereby exposing yourself to the temptation of 
 seekmg success, if not in one way, then in some other. 
 Beware of so coveting success, even in this matter of 
 saving souls, as to be willing to compel it by any other 
 means than the might of Divine truth. God's word, 
 not yours, nor any ingenuity of yours, is the fire, and 
 the hammer that shivers the flinty rock. 
 
 And then again, there is danger of your not prop- 
 erly co-working with the settled ministry. The faith- 
 ful, sober pastor, long in the harness, worn by the wide 
 diversity of his engagements, chilled, perhaps, by years 
 of small success in his ministrations, will, doubtless, 
 have something to learn, and which he will gladly 
 learn, of your directness, simplicity, and fervor in 
 urging men to repentance. A.nd, be sure, if a pastor 
 invites you to his pulpit, he does it in the hope of 
 spiritual quickening both for his people and for him- 
 self. See to it that you never abuse that trust. Never 
 allow yourself to preach in any Christian pulpit, as 
 though you supposed the Gospel had never before been 
 preached there. But let your work join itself on to the 
 work of the pastor in other months and in other years. 
 Thus wiU your present, more concentrated and urgent 
 assaults against the battlements of sin, be reinforced by 
 
266 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 all the instructions and warnings of a patient and prayer- 
 ful past. Thus will yon and he together gamer with 
 shoutings the long-ripening harvest of renovated souls. 
 Do not exalt your office above that of the settled pastor. 
 It is not above it. It is below it rather ; below it, as 
 everything merely rudimental 'and introductory, is be- 
 low the completeness which it heralds. 
 
 Against these three perils, I warn you to be on your 
 guard. I will not enlarge upon them. It were enough, 
 perhaps, to have named them. 
 
 But passing by whatever is specific and special per- 
 taining to this office of an Evangelist, it remains for me 
 to remind you that by far the most important feature 
 of this office is that which it has in common with the 
 settled ministry of the word. Tou are a minister of 
 Christ, and as such, an ambassador from God to men. 
 Let this one thought possess your soul, and reign in it 
 to the subversion and expulsion of every other. Yon 
 are not a lecturer on any science, even that of theology. 
 Tou are not a cultured orator for the entertainment of 
 crowded assemblies. But you are God's ambassador to 
 His rebellious subjects. This is a sublime conception 
 of the Christian ministry, and, if entertained as it should 
 be, will be sure to dwarf and shrivel if not utterly 
 eradicate all merely professional ambition and solici- 
 tude. In the pulpit think never of yourself, but only 
 of God and the souls of men. And then speak as God 
 Himself shall give yon utterance. 
 
 Earthly ambassadors have not only their formal writ- 
 ten instructions, but they carry with them also verbal 
 hints and suggestions from the authority that sends 
 them. They carry also their own knowledge of the 
 
CHARGB TO AN EVANGELIST 267 
 
 uation and the institutions which they represent. 
 Thus their written instructions are supplemented. And 
 as unlooked-for emergencies arise, much is left, and 
 may be safely left, to their individual judgment and 
 discretion. Not so with you as the ambassador of 
 God. Tou represent an upper Kingdom of light, which 
 you have never seen. Ton have to deal with matters 
 which are known to us, and can be known, only by the 
 special revelations of the Spirit. 
 
 The embassy you execute, is the embassy of the 
 Book. Tour written instructions are the Bible, the 
 whole Bible, and nothing but the Bible. There is no 
 supplement of Catholic tradition ; no reserved privilege 
 and discretion of reason ; but only this written word, 
 the wisdom of God and the power of God to the salva- 
 tion of every believing soul. 
 
 It may sound strangely, but I must say it, the great 
 weakness of the ministry in our day, comes from its 
 neglect of the Bible. It is not half enough studied, 
 pondered over, prayed over. Our texts are too often 
 only mottoes. Our sermons are not saturated, as they 
 should be, with the Scriptures. What we need is vastly 
 more of Bible truth, in the Bible forms. 
 
 My brother, be a man of this one great Book. Plunge 
 your intellect into its depths. Send your emotions up 
 into its heights. Let your preaching come out of it, as 
 at Horeb waters gushed from the smitten rock. 
 
 So shall you be God's ambassador, speaking only 
 God's word. And so shall you save both yourself and 
 them that hear you. 
 
xyh 
 
 CHARGE TO A PASTOR 
 
OHAEGE TO A PASTOR 
 
 " Take heed unto thyself, and unto the doctrine." — 1 Timotht 
 iv. 16. 
 
 Theee is a great plenty of texts suitable for an or- 
 dination sermon, but only one that I now tWnk ol 
 whicb suggests all the essential points of an ordina- 
 tion charge. This occurs in the First Epistle of Paul 
 to Timothy : " Take heed unto thyself, and unto the 
 doctrine." ' Or, as the Kevisers have it : " Take heed 
 to thyself, and to thy teaching." This covers the whole 
 ground. 
 
 Timothy had been then some ten years already a 
 Presbyter and Evangelist. You, my dear young broth- 
 er and pupil, are on the threshold of your office. Stamp 
 now this one sentence into your memory, as a perpetual 
 watchword down along the coming years : " Take heed 
 to thysdf, and to thy teaching." 
 
 I. Take heed to thyself : body, soul, and spirit. In 
 philosophy, you probably prefer the Greek, which is 
 also the Pauline, trichotomy of body, soul, and spirit, 
 to the Latin dichotomy of body and soul. Practically, 
 it makes no difference, if only you take an intelligent 
 and proper care of the body. Intelligent, as against all 
 
 ' 1 Tim. iv. 16. 
 
 (371) 
 
272 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 quackeries of food, of medicine, or of gymnastics. 
 Proper, as not being excessive. A certain physical un 
 consciousness is undoubtedly the highest type of phys- 
 ical condition. Do not study medicine on your own 
 account. Even physicians would rather not, and had 
 better not, prescribe for themselves. Of all kinds of 
 work, brain-work is probably the most conducive to 
 health and longevity. It is not so much work as 
 worry that breaks men down. Worn-out students are 
 seldom worn out by mere study. 
 
 Modern science has discovered nearly seventy ele- 
 mentary substances. I recommend to you a familiar 
 acquaintance with the ancient four : fire, air, earth, and 
 water. Give your eyes good light, your lungs good 
 air, your feet a good chance at the ground, with good 
 water in abundance for the whole body, outside and 
 mside. The " bodily exercise " ' spoken of by Paul as 
 not amounting to much, was probably the asceticism 
 which Timothy appears to have been just a little in- 
 clined to. 
 
 Be ungrudgingly social in your habits. Cultivate a 
 cheerful, kindly, generous temper. Ifever mind the 
 parish boundaries. Make as many friends as you can. 
 And never make an enemy, if you can help it without 
 being a coward. Rudeness, which you might very 
 justly resent, is frequently so utterly childish and clown- 
 ish as not to be worth resenting. 
 
 Learn to study, if you have not already learned how. 
 There is a world of difference between hard study and 
 shaj-p study. The former may be a weariness all round 
 
 ' 1 Tim. iv. 8. 
 
OHABGE TO A PASTOS 273 
 
 — to yom- congregation, as well as to yourself. Without 
 sharp study, you must not expect to hold your own. 
 
 Character is a great word, one of the greatest. Cul- 
 tivate character, real character. Obliterate the line so 
 often drawn between out of sight and m sight. What 
 you think it well to seem to be, that he. You cannot' 
 be too good a man. And, for one, I do not hesitate to 
 say that something is due to jprqfessional character. In 
 the last analysis, in the ultimate judgment, we are, of 
 course, all measured by one and the same standard. In 
 the sight of God and angels, what is really not morally 
 right for a clergyman is not morally right for anybody. 
 And yet a clergyman should never give himself the 
 benefit of a doubt. Things that are not altogether or 
 exactly wrong, may yet be unseemly and improper. It 
 should be the pleasure of a clergyman, and his instinct, 
 to be irreproachable. He represents a fine, high, heroic 
 regimen of life, a kingdom not of this world ; and he 
 cannot aflbrd to forget the dignity of his calling. It is 
 a bad sign for a clergyman to be thinking and talking 
 too much about his " rights." If he insists upon all 
 his rights, he is in danger of neglecting some of his 
 duties. He had better learn to say with Paul, " All 
 things are lawful for me ; but not all things are expe- 
 dient."' 
 
 II. Take heed to thy teaoAmg. The Greek here is 
 Stdax^j, the act, rather than the ma/iter, or svhstwnce, 
 of teaching. The reference is not to a sharply defined 
 dogmatic system, expressed in Creed or Catechism. 
 This you must have, to be sure, or you will come to 
 ' 1 Cor. vi. 12. 
 
274 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 grief. A healthy, vigorous human body presupposes a 
 skeleton of bone and cartilage well articulated from 
 head to foot. But the skeleton is inside. Yon are 
 not ordained to a theological professorship, but to 
 popular teaching. 
 
 And by teaching is meant something more than is 
 said on Sunday in the pulpit. In the large city con- 
 gregations, preaching, as commonly understood, is about 
 all that one man can do. Much fruitful pastoral work 
 is out of the question. But in the country it is other- 
 wise ; and must be otherwise more and more, if 
 churches and congregations grow. The time has al- 
 ready come when Chrysostoms are scarce ; and Provi- 
 dence is willing to have it so. Congregations will have 
 to be gathered, man by man, family by family. This, 
 in my judgment, is now the paramount concern. The 
 young men who go out from our seminaries must go 
 as missionaries, trained to the work of dealing with 
 men, one by one. 
 
 How to handle Divine Truth is, accordingly, a great 
 matter. First of all, one must really be master of it, 
 master of it in detail, master of it in its relations, and 
 master of it for himself. 
 
 Beware of dogmatic theology. Do not avoid it. Do 
 not speak lightly of it. Do not think lightly of it. 
 But leware of it. I sometimes hear Trinitarian ser- 
 mons that tempt me to Sabellianism. And I sometimes 
 hear Calvinistic sermons that tempt me to Arminian- 
 ism. Know your catechism, but preach the GospeL 
 
 Beware also of apologetic theology. Be not ignorant 
 of the assaults, ancient and modem ; and master the 
 defences. But if you really believe in Jesus of Naza- 
 
OHABGE TO A PASTOR 275 
 
 reth, and in His kingdom, show the confidence of a be- 
 liever. Put a plume in your cap, and learn trumpet 
 tones, and spur your charger on ahead of the charging 
 column. 
 
 Beware even of historic theology, if tempted to im- 
 agine that history has ceased. Historic theology is 
 sometimes latitudinarian, treating all formulas alike. 
 Sometimes it would arrest discussion, compiling and 
 comparing only the things which have been already 
 said. Time is trinal : past, present, and future. There 
 are great matters now before us, in regard to which the 
 last words have by no means been spoken. 
 
 Emphasize Biblical theology. We are only just now 
 beginning to appreciate the importance of it, or to un- 
 derstand its scope. It is the grandest thing I see in 
 the horizon anywhere all around us. What does the 
 Bible teach — what exactly ? What did God, through 
 His Prophets, say to the old Hebrew people ? What 
 did Christ and His Apostles say in Palestine, in Asia 
 Minor, in Greece, in Italy ? Ascertain and then inter- 
 pret the utterances. This is the path and this is the 
 sign by which to conquer. 
 
 Emphasize practical religion. Christianity is, of 
 course, not a mere speculative belief about God and 
 man. Nor yet merely a provision of grace for eter- 
 nity ; but provision for earth and time. For a large 
 proportion of the human race, during centuries of his- 
 tory, this globe has been a dreadful theatre of lust and 
 violence, of war and want and woe. Set yourself to 
 determine exactly what is required in order to a proper 
 Christian civilization. And then do your best right 
 here to realize it. 
 
2T6 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 I envy you, my brother, the years you may hope to 
 live and labor. As disciples of Jesus, standing up for 
 Him in these last decades of the nineteenth century, 
 the worst may not quite yet have befallen us. But the 
 better times are not very far ahead. The Church is 
 stripping for the fight. Some things, once deemed 
 essential, have become indifEerent. Men who really 
 know the Lord are beginning to know one another. 
 The Folds are many ; but the Shepherd is one, and the 
 Flock is one.' And the whole earth shall be its pasture 
 by and by. 
 
 I John z. U, 
 
xvm 
 
 SALVATION PREACHED 
 
SALVATION PREACHED 
 
 " How {hen shall they call on Sim in whom they have not believed? 
 and how shall they believe in Sim of wTwm they home not heard f 
 and Turn shall they hea/r without a preacher t and how shad they 
 preach, except they be sent t "— Eomahs x. 14, 15. 
 
 These four questions are like the links of an iron 
 chain. It matters little whose questions they were : 
 whether of some imagined objector, disputing Paul's 
 doctrine of justification by faith alone, or of Paul him- 
 self. Salvation, he had said, could be had for the ask- 
 ing : " For whosoever shall call upon the Name of the 
 Lord shall be saved." And the four questions answei 
 themselves. There can, of course, be no asking with- 
 out believing ; no believing without hearing ; no hear- 
 ing without preadiing ; and no preaching without send- 
 ing. Three points are thus emphasized. 
 
 I. Salvation by Grace. 
 
 We all hope to be saved. To be sure, we do not, 
 most of us, greatly concern ourselves about it practi- 
 cally when we are busy, flushed and prosperous. But 
 in the sober pauses of life sometimes, in pensive moods, 
 in weariness or want, in trouble, in disgust, in sorrow 
 or in sickness, or, perhaps in some sudden peril, wa 
 wake up to a painful sense of the invisible realities. 
 
 (279) 
 
280 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 Life, that weighed so heavily, hecomes a cloud, or a 
 vapor. The curtains drop, the walls of granite turn to 
 crystal, and the sonl is smitten through and through^ 
 with a light like that of seven days. Then, as in a 
 flash that fills the firmament, we see God, and see our- 
 selves. I shall waste no words on what we see ; you 
 and I know very well what it is. We are consciously 
 out of harmony with God, and would get away from 
 Him, utterly and forever, if we could. But that is out 
 of the question. We are not blind. We cannot forget. 
 And suicide, the suicide of the soul, is impossible. If 
 it were only for a hundred or two of years that we 
 must live, we might brave the agony. But this ocean 
 of eternity has no horizon. No bells are struck, as the 
 ship sails on and on. A thousand years, and still no 
 tick of the clock is heard. 
 
 Let there be now no shallow talk about this tremen- 
 dous business of moral law. Once violated, no matter 
 to what extent, great or little, self-impeachment b^ins, 
 and continnes. This self-impeachment is in reality, and 
 in its last analysis, Divine impeachment. And no hu- 
 man being has ever escaped it, or ever will. We all 
 know it of one another. We all confess it of ourselves. 
 And did any man ever yet for^ve himself ? Did you 
 ever ? Try it, sometime. 
 
 Can Ood forgive? This is the great, sad, tragic 
 question of the ages. Plato says He cannot. Paul 
 says He can. Unless He can, we are lost ; you and I, 
 and everybody. Salvation cannot be of merit for any- 
 body that yon or I have ever known. It must be of 
 grace, if grace be possible : there is no other way. 
 
 And there is this way : an old way, an eternal way, 
 
SALVATION PBEAOEED 281 
 
 prepared and opened far back behind all time, when 
 the Lamb was slain. This takes ns back into mysteri- 
 ous and awful depths. But revelation leads the way. 
 Surely we narrow God, unless we think of Him as 
 Triune. Surely we slander God, unless we make atone- 
 ment as much the work of the Father and the Spirit, 
 as of the Son. It was not especially the Son, it was 
 God, who " so loved the world." It is God, the Triune 
 God, who loved and pitied and bore the sin of the 
 world, and lives and pities and carries the burden 
 BtiU. " In all their affliction He was afflicted." ' Who- 
 ever believes this, repenting of his sin, hating it, re- 
 nouncing it, is saved already. 
 
 Such men there were before Christ ever came into 
 the world : men like Seth, Enoch, Melchizedek, Abra- 
 ham : men like Socrates, perhaps ; not sinless, there 
 have been no such, but thoughtful of God, humble, 
 honest, penitent, reverential, afraid of being and doing 
 wrong, and afraid of nothing else; Christians before 
 Christ, just as in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries 
 there were Eeformers before the Eeformation. 
 
 You ask me whether there were many such. How 
 should I know ? But this I know, if there were five 
 such, there might have been, and there may have been, 
 millions. If one such, God is justified. Anybody 
 might have been, and anybody may be, saved. 
 
 And yet, on the other hand, anybody may be lost. 
 The chance of glory is the risk of shame. Anybody 
 may wrong his neighbor, by violence, or fraud, or libel. 
 Anybody may wrong himself, by unbridled appetite, 
 or lust. Anybody may wrong God, without lifting a 
 1 Isa. Ixiii. 9. 
 
282 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 finger or speaking a word. Anybody may wrong every- 
 body, simply by being intensely and supremely selfish 
 and self-willed. How to be square and clean, how to 
 be considerate and generous, how not to be selfish and 
 self-willed ; how not to be afraid or ashamed to die : 
 this is the great problem of life. Tell me how to do 
 this, and you tell me how to be saved. Grace tramples 
 down no law. Salvation by grace is through faith, 
 working by love, which, like fire, cleanses the heart 
 and cleanses the life. " Lord, remember me when Thou 
 comest into Thy kingdom," ' was no cry of selfish fright, 
 or greed of bliss, but of a heart already changed. That 
 Syrian brigand, in the very act of finding and confess- 
 ing himself a sinner, became a saint. I hope to see 
 him some day. He heads the colunm of us sinners 
 saved by grace. 
 
 The salvation of society, menaced now, menaced al- 
 ways, by human appetite and passions in their disor- 
 ganizing play, must come by the same road. Ho one 
 form of government rather than another, no mere self- 
 ish, ordering of selfish forces, is the thing required. 
 Till society shall have become unselfish, it has not been 
 saved, nor can it be. And to become unselfish, it must 
 learn, not of socialistic reformers, who pronounce nn- 
 selfishness impossible, but of Him who was unselfish- 
 ness incarnate. He, the Galilean Peasant, He only 
 supplies at once the lesson, the example, and the assist- 
 ing grace. More political freedom might, or it might 
 not, be well. Higher wages, all at once, might, <5r 
 might not, be weU. Too much liberty, I should say, is 
 possible; and certainly too much wealth is possible, 
 ' Luke zxiii. 42, 
 
SAZYATIOW TBEAOnEB 283 
 
 with too much luxury. But too much Gospel, too 
 much religion, real religion, too much solidity and grace 
 of character, there can never be 
 
 Evangelistic work, I know, is challenged : I am glad 
 it is. Christians are challenged : I am glad they are. 
 It will do no harm. Fire consumes only the dross. If 
 every pious man were only a thoroughly good man ! 
 and every thoroughly good man were only fine and 
 chivalric in his goodness ! What we want, now and 
 onward, is not Christian cant, but Christian character 
 for wear and tear. We want good sons and daughters ; 
 good brothers and sisters; good husbands and wives; 
 good fathers and mothers; good business men, good 
 neighbors and citizens. We know such persons when 
 we see them. And we know they are not trained 
 in beer gardens, or dancing saloons, or infidel lyceums. 
 No doubt there are Christian hypocrites. But so like- 
 wise are there hypocrites of another kind: scientific 
 men who pretend to care only for science, but miss no 
 chance of striking at revealed religion ; literary men, 
 who profess philanthropy, and practise egotism. 
 
 Bringing the matter to a practical test, our three 
 great religious denominations in these United States 
 are the Methodists, the Baptists, and the Presbyterians. 
 And is it not quite certain that if the Methodist aver- 
 age of character, or the Baptist average, or the Presby- 
 terian average were the American average throughout, 
 our imperilled institutions, liberty, life, and property, 
 would all be safer than they are ? 
 
 But what are you and I doing to make good this av- 
 erage of character ? What are we doing for the thou- 
 sands who seldom or never cross the threshold of a 
 
284 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 chui'di? What are we doing for the thousands who 
 will not find their way to the chapels built for them ? 
 What are we doing for those who serve ns in our homes, 
 in our factories and counting-rooms, in our shops and 
 on our farms, except to pay them their wages ? Are 
 we brethren, or not ? If not brethren, we and they, 
 whose Father is God — ours or theirs ? And on whose 
 side will He be, if ever the line is drawn ? 
 
 II. This Salvation mnst be preached. 
 
 Christianity is one of the great Book-Eeligions : of 
 which there are pre-eminently three, Judaism and Mo- 
 hammedanism being the other two. This word Book- 
 BeUgion means a great deal. It means, first of all, 
 that we have something definite and immutable by 
 which to measure whatever calls itself Christian, 
 holding it to the rule. And this is a matter of vital 
 moment. Everything historic grows and changes : all 
 institutions and systems, of whatever kind, secular or 
 sacred. Judaism changed, so as hardly to be recog- 
 nized, between the time of David and the time of 
 Herod. Mohammedanism is greatly changed from 
 what it was when it burst in flame from the Arabian 
 peninsula. Christianity itself has changed in passing 
 from ancient to mediaeval, from mediaeval to modem, 
 times. No matter now what any man, or any sect, or 
 any great communion, or any Council, even though it 
 were ecumenic, or any Creed, even though it were our 
 own, may have said is Christian : what says the Book, 
 this Book of the two Testaments, Old and New ? The 
 malediction, with which the Apocalypse concludes, 
 guards, constructively, every other part of the inspired 
 
SALVATION PREACHED 285 
 
 canon just as well. Cursed be the naan ttat either 
 adds anytliing to it, or takes anything away. Christi- 
 anity is all here, in black upon white : every ordinance, 
 every essential doctrine, every rule of life. Turn 
 Christianity into childish parade and pomp of rite and 
 ceremony ; turn it into monstrous Papal despotism ; 
 turn it into cast-iron theology ; turn it into nebulous 
 and hazy mysticism ; turn it into what you will : this 
 sturdy Book shall turn it back to the Ten Command- 
 ments, the Sermon on the Mount, the Lord's Prayer, 
 and the Golden Eule. 
 
 The word Booh-EeUgion, means also much more 
 than mere organic law, holding things to their pattern. 
 It means that the poor, swearing, shipwrecked sailor, 
 that floats ashore on his chest, if he has in that chest 
 the Bible his mother gave him, and dries its leaves in 
 the sun, and reads the third chapter of John's Gospel, 
 with streaming eyes, and breaking, believing heart, 
 may be saved all alone there on the sandy beach of the 
 desert island. And if he dies there all alone, no ship 
 sailing that way to see his signal of distress, he will go 
 as straight to Heaven as Whitefield himself went from 
 the sermon he preached in Exeter. 
 
 And yet Christianity did not start as a volume, but 
 as a voice. Christ Himself probably wrote nothing, 
 not a line. The earliest of the Four Gospels was not 
 written till more than twenty, the latest till at least 
 fifty, more likely sixty, years after the Day of Pente- 
 cost. Meanwhile, the Kingdom of Christ had been 
 marching and conquering, north and south, towards 
 the rising and towards the setting sun. Its snow-white 
 banners, chasing the Koman eagles, had outflown those 
 
286 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 eagles beyond the Danube, the Euphrates, and the In 
 dus. What wrought that triumph ? The foolishness 
 of preaching wrought it. It was the thrilling story of 
 Christ's life and death, from the manger to the cross, 
 from the cross into the sky ; what He said to one and 
 another, here and there ; what He did for the blind 
 man, what He did for Lazarus ; how He prayed for 
 His enemies, how He cared for His mother ; the story, 
 now an old one, then a new one, told as sailors tell of 
 escapes from shipwreck, as soldiers tell of escapes from 
 iron tempests of battle. 
 
 When we think of it, this is all of the very essence 
 of Christianity itself. Christ is no Confucius, or Soc- 
 rates, or Solon, but God incarnate. Even the Law 
 thundered from Sinai was not merely " with the sound 
 of a trumpet," but also with the " voice of words," ' ar- 
 ticulate. He that saves us sjpake, and as never man 
 spake. So the sacred message ran, and runs, from lip 
 to lip. It is in the air all the time. 
 
 A Bible in every human habitation is something 
 well worth trying to achieve. But I can tell you of 
 something better still. It is Christ Himself, in any one 
 of the humblest of His disciples, casting His shadow on 
 the wall. Breathing men, not breathless books, must 
 carry salvation round the globe. Despise not the little 
 tract. " Coming to Jesus," written by a London cler- 
 gyman, has saved a great many souls. But there is 
 nothing to rival the human voice. What would Peter 
 the Hermit have accomplished had he stayed in his 
 monastery and from that retreat had issued a printed 
 call to arms, even though he had showered Europe with 
 » Heb. xii. 19. 
 
SALVATION PREAOHMD 287 
 
 his circulars ? Who cares for circulars ? But when that 
 fiery little monk, lean, swarthy, keen-eyed, eloquent, 
 bareheaded, barefooted, girded about the loins with a 
 heavy cord, and mounted on his mule, undertook the 
 tour of Europe, preaching the First Crusade, with tears 
 and groans, smiting his breast, kissing the crucifix, 
 passionately invoking the vengeance of God and man 
 on the ruthless Saracen, all Europe sprang madly to its 
 feet and hurled itself, steel-clad, upon the Orient. So of 
 the Gospel, now and always. It must be in the blood 
 like iron, in the eye like fire, in the voice like a trumpet- 
 call. It must be preached ; preached by men who have 
 had it preached to them ; preached to sinners by men who 
 have sinned themselves ; iy dying men to dying men. 
 
 Harlan Page has been worth more to the world than 
 Cotton Mather's famous " Essays to do Good." The 
 story of Payson's death-bed, or the story of Havelock's 
 dying, is worth more to-day than Baxter's " Saints' 
 Rest." The best sermon that was ever preached to 
 me, I did not hear at all, but only saw it and felt it. 
 A friend of mine lay dying, not many months ago. 
 His voice was clear and strong to the very latest syl- 
 lable almost. Then the light of the eyes went out, and 
 the hands dropped, and the head drooped, and we said 
 one to another, "He is gone." Suddenly the head 
 turned upon the piUow, the hands moved, and light 
 was in the eyes again. Surprise, wonder, adoration, 
 rapture, wave on wave, rolled across that pallid face. 
 It was the beatific vision. Wow I know the meaning 
 of that text : " I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with 
 Thy likeness." ' 
 
 ■ Ps. xTii. 15. 
 
288 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 in. The Preachers must be sent. 
 
 Our text does not say by whom, but the context 
 makes it plain enough. God must send them. Some 
 men are preaching, at least they call it preaching, who 
 have not been sent by anybody but themselves. They 
 belong to the synagogue of Satan, some of them 
 certainly. Others are preaching, regularly licensed 
 and ordained thereto, sent only of men. They have 
 no higher call. Whoever preaches to any purpose, is 
 sent of God to do it ; not by visions and voices now, 
 as Moses and Aaron were sent, or Elijah and Elisha, 
 or Peter and Paul ; but just as truly sent. 
 
 Whom God sends to preach, He first converts. And 
 then He kindles in him, beyond the average, what we 
 have been in the habit of calling a love for souls ; call 
 it, if you please, enthusiasm, a great, good heart, quick 
 sympathy with men as men, and with the daily wants 
 and ways of men. For the higher places, there must 
 be, of course, the higher gifts, and the higher culture. 
 There was only one Chrysostom ; had there been an- 
 other, Antioch and Constantinople would have liked it 
 better. We shall never get too many preachers of this 
 sort; we shall never get enough. Preachers of this 
 sort are not made ; they grow. And yet the better the 
 stock, the better it repays wise husbandry. Pruning is 
 a good thing, and grafting is good. Wild apples no- 
 body wants, when he can get the cultivated. It is ab- 
 surd to decry study and scholarship. Some men who 
 used to do it, have learned better. Christianity con- 
 quered the old Grseco-Poman civilization, by absorbing 
 and assimi.ating all that was really good in it. Modern 
 civilization was born Christian, but can be kept Chris- 
 
SALVATION PBEAOHED 289 
 
 tian only by a discipline that masters everything. A 
 Church without trained and intrepid thinkers, is an 
 army without oflBcers. 
 
 Preaching is a great art, even though the preaching 
 be very plain and peremptory. Moses thought so, when 
 he said he had a slow tongue, and would rather not take 
 God's message to Pharaoh, though he had it all by 
 heart.' Nobody that has never tried it, knows how hard 
 it is to make what we consider only a very ordinary talk 
 or sermon. It requires an accumulated capital of 
 knowledge, of experience and of character. It requires 
 singleness and sacredness of purpose; elevation, and 
 aloofness from what is merely secular, even though it 
 be not sinful ; magnanimity and manliness. Lay and 
 clerical are good and useful adjectives, much as they 
 have been abused. The dividing line had better not 
 be obliterated. 
 
 And yet in the Apostolic and early Church, which 
 wrought such wonders, preaching was not exclusively 
 an official prerogative. Strictly speaking, there was no 
 order of preachers. The only orders were Apostles, 
 Elders, and Deacons. Afterwards, properly, only two, 
 Elders and Deacons, Bishops not being Apostolic at all. 
 Preaching was only a function. Anybody might preach 
 who had anything to say worth saying. Not till near 
 the close of the fourth century were laymen forbidden 
 to preach.' And then the Church had got far along in 
 
 >Ex.iv. 10. 
 
 ' Fourth Council of Carthage, 398 A.D. Canon 98 (of. 104): " Lai- 
 cus, prajsentibus clericis, nisi ipsis jubentibus, docere non audeat " 
 Harduia's Concilia, i., 984 
 
290 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 the bad way, going farther and farther, till she heard 
 the iron trumpet of Luther. 
 
 We all know what danger there is in the old liberty 
 of preaching ; what danger of crudeness aad wildness. 
 Liberty is always dangerous ; liberty of speech and of 
 the press, liberty of voting, even. But not half so dan- 
 gerous as despotism, with the safety-valve screwed 
 down. It was the military, oflBcial instinct in Joshua 
 that would have silenced Eldad and Medad, prophesy- 
 ing, not in the tabernacle, but in the camp. Moses 
 was wiser: "Would God that all the Lord's people 
 were prophets." ' 
 
 As I look out over the world calculating the chances, 
 I confess I do not see how Christianity is ever to carry 
 the day, unless the great bulk of our Church member- 
 ship becomes also a ministry. By this I mean, not 
 merely the passive ministry of character, though that is 
 much, but active personal concern, and direct personal 
 service of some sort, aiming to make others happier, 
 wiser, and better ; every believer a witness, every new 
 recruit himself straightway a recruiter. 
 
 A Grecian army, with or without leaders, might pos- 
 sibly have stood its ground all the same at Marathon, 
 saving Greece, and saving the civilization of the Occi- 
 dent. But Miltiades alone there, with his handful of 
 officers, would not have stayed for a moment the Per- 
 sian march on Athens. 
 
 For some forty millions of people in these TJnited 
 States we have more than forty thousand official preach- 
 ers. And yet we call our country only nominally Chris- 
 tian. 'Observing the same ratio, China, with her fom- 
 • Num. xL 29. 
 
SALVATION PREACHED 291 
 
 hundred millions of people, should have four hundred 
 thousand preachers. What shall be done to put her 
 into the way of having them by and by ? What shall 
 be done for the rest of Asia ? What shall be done for 
 Africa ? Nay, what shall be done for nominally Chris- 
 tian Europe and America? Our common Christian 
 civilization, on both sides of the Atlantic, the growth 
 and heritage of generations, stands challenged to-day 
 and menaced. Property, always jealous of its rights, 
 is now fiercely warned to be mindful of its duties. The 
 sacred bonds of the family are cast like threads of flax 
 into the furnace. Immortality, moral retribution, God 
 Himself, are all denounced and derided as enslaving but 
 idle dreams. And this new .barbarism, not out of wild 
 forests as of old, but out of the back streets, the cellars 
 and garrets of crowded cities, is only growing denser 
 and blacker from year to year. 
 
 Let us be warned. But let us not be appalled and 
 paralyzed. Jesus of Nazareth disarmed the madman 
 from the tombs of Gerasa by His glance of love. These 
 angry men, gnashing their teeth, rattling their broken 
 chains, are the very men He died for. And all round 
 the globe, too, are the men He died for. But how shall 
 they believe in Him of whom they have not heard ? 
 and how shall they hear without a preacher ? and how 
 shall they preach except they be sent ? And if still you 
 ask me, Who are sent ? still I answer. Pray tell me, who 
 are not sent, if only they be called ? And tell me, is it 
 possible for any man to be a Christian himself and be 
 doing nothing to make other men Christians too? 
 Who, if he could, would like to be plodding heaven- 
 ward in a path only wide enough for one ? 
 
XIX 
 UNTROUBLED FAITH 
 
UNTEOUBLED FAITH > 
 
 "Let not your Tiewrt be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in 
 Me." — John sdv. 1. 
 
 The story told of the burning of the famous library 
 of Alexandria by order of the Caliph Omar, is probably 
 apocryphal. But what the Caliph is reported to have 
 written to Amru, his general commanding in Egypt, 
 has a grand moral. If those books contradicted the 
 Koran, they were false, and ought to be destroyed. If 
 they agreed with the Koran, they were of no use, and 
 might well be spared. One Book was enough for Mo- 
 hammedans. So, when Sir Walter Scott lay dying, he 
 said to his son-in-law one day, " Lockhart, read to me." 
 " Wbat book shall it be ? " said Lockhart. " "Why do 
 you ask ? there is but one," said Scott. 
 
 Now, if this Book itself were in danger of being de- 
 stroyed, and I might have only one chapter out of it, I 
 rather think it would be this fourteenth chapter of 
 John's Gospel. Probably no single chapter is read so 
 much. We read it to ourselves when we are all aloiie, 
 on the land, on the sea, in the solitudes of nature, in 
 the solitudes of personal experience. We read it at 
 the communion-table, catching the very tones which 
 
 ■ Written as an ordination sermon, and so used on several occa 
 Bions. Also delivered in Glasgow, Scotland, April 17, 1885. 
 
 (295) 
 
296 ETERNAL ATOITEMENT 
 
 made sucli music nearly nineteen hundred years ago. 
 We read it to the dying, and they are soothed. "We 
 read it over the dead, and thank God that they are safe. 
 These are sacred and tender offices. But we narrow 
 the chapter when only such offices are thought of. It 
 was the Speaker Himself who was about to die. His 
 hearers were about to be launched into a life-long ser- 
 vice. Their feet were on the threshold of a ministry, 
 whose first and whose last necessity was absolute, child- 
 like faith. 
 
 L Let not yowr hea/rb "be troubled. Certainly they 
 were troubled. And they had reason to be. Consider 
 the cir6umstances. It was in what we now call the 
 year of our Lord thirty, Thursday evening, April the 
 sixth. To-morrow there will be a dying cry, the echoes 
 of which are to stay in the air forever. Jerusalem is 
 full of people, tTerusalem and all its suburbs : not thou- 
 sands of people merely, but tens of thousands, hundreds 
 of thousands. In countless groups, family by family, 
 all over the city, and in tents all around the city, these 
 hundreds of thousands are eating their paschal supper. 
 It is now, we will suppose, not far from nine o'clock. 
 The great round paschal moon is half-way up the sky. 
 On the hill, west of the temple, known as Zion, the 
 upper city ot David, Jesus of Nazareth and TTis twelve 
 apostles have been eating their Paschal supper. It is 
 ended now. Judas has taken the hint, and gone his 
 way towards the snow-white temple, towards the paschal 
 moon ; and his cold shadow seems to be lying on the 
 floor. Jesus sees every movement, and hears every 
 footfall of Judas hurrying along the moonlit streets ; 
 
UNTROUBLED FAITH 29Y 
 
 knows just where the traitor is going, and just what he 
 will say and do. Jesus sees also His own sad way; 
 down over the Kedron to Gethsemane, after an hour or 
 two ; and to-morrow, at nine o'clock, to Calvary ; and 
 thence, by that awful plunge appointed for us all, into 
 the unseen world. Only that once did He ever say, 
 '■'■Little children," ' speaking to His disciples. " Little 
 children, yet a little while I am with you." But only 
 for a little while. I am going far away beyond that 
 paschal moon, beyond the stars. And you will be alone 
 here, sheep without your Shepherd, in a wild pasture, 
 under a stormy sky. Keep close together, love one 
 another, it is all that you can do. Bat Peter answers, 
 in his quick, headlong way, " I will lay down my life 
 for Thy sake"; I too know how to die. Jesus an- 
 swers : " The cock shall not crow till thou hast denied 
 Me thrice." ' Poor Peter ! Poor disciples, all of them 1 
 Only eleven now ; of one heart, to be sure, but that one 
 heart "troubled." Jesus is quick to see and pity. 
 " Let not your heart be troubled." Such was the con- 
 nection. And how gracious the words were ! 
 
 Years afterwards, so runs the legend, this same Peter, 
 fleeing by night from the city, to escape impending 
 martyrdom, was met by Jesus at the gate. " Lord, 
 whither goest Thou ? " inquired the surprised disciple. 
 "I am come to be crucified again," answered the 
 Master. And then the disciple that denied Him once, 
 turned back to play the hero. It was Home that time. 
 
 ' TCKvio John xiii. 33, instead of rixva. Paul uses it once, Gal. iv. 
 19, and John, in his Epistles, seven times, viz., 1 John il. 1, 13, 28, 
 iii. 7, 18, iv. 4, v. 21. 
 
 2 John xiii. 87, 88. 
 
298 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 The lesson is broader and deeper than it may have 
 seemed to be. History is one endless round of repeti- 
 tions, of essential repetitions. Generations come and 
 go, names change, the world moves on ; bnt the great 
 types of character are constant, and the things that be 
 are the things that have been, and shall again be. In 
 this sense, apostolic succession never fails. Many times 
 over Judas Iscariot betrays his Lord, and hangs him- 
 self. Many times over Peter denies his Lord, and 
 bitterly repents. Many times over the Lord Himself 
 is crucified, and buried, rises and goes away and comes 
 again unseen. It is the same old story always ; and 
 always with the old refrain : " Let not your heart be 
 troubled." 
 
 To-day, as related to heathen peoples and religions, 
 the Judas Iscariot of Christianity is Christendom itself. 
 At first, Christianity had no Christendom at all behind 
 it; had behind it only the incomparable personality 
 and teachings of Jesus of Ifazareth. Peter, Paul and 
 John had no Constantine nor Charlemagne nor Henry 
 YIII. to carry. There was then no Christian England, 
 forcing opium on heathen China ; no Christian America, 
 driving Chinamen across the continent from San Fran- 
 cisco to New York ; no sailors, Greek, Catholic or 
 Protestant, defiling every seaport of every continent 
 and island. If Christendom were only Christian really, 
 how much longer would China probably be Confucian ? 
 or Japan Buddhistic? or India Brahmanic? or Turkey 
 Mohammedan? These are painful questions; painful 
 and humihating. But let not your heart be troubled. 
 
 Inside of Christendom I see another betrayal ol 
 Christianity, which also is very painful. Wealth in. 
 
VNTBOUBLED FAlTS 299 
 
 creases, comforts and luxuries are multiplied, liberty 
 grows, laws improve, arts and sciences develope, mor- 
 ality advances, the whole life of individuals, families, 
 communities, and nations is lifted, strengthened, and 
 adorned. In short, we behold a Christian civilization, 
 incontestably and immensely superior to any heathen 
 pattern or rival, ancient or modem. By and by this 
 Christian civilization forgets its Christian parentage ; 
 or denies it, and claims for itself another pedigree. 
 Clean, cultured, scholarly men analyze and compare the 
 great historic religions, allowing little, if any, pre- 
 eminence to Christianity. Then after a while the con- 
 clusion is reached that we really need no religion at aU, 
 only science. The end is near. Take your sop, Judas, 
 and begone. As for the eleven, let not their heart be 
 troubled. 
 
 Peter's denial of the Lord also repeats itself ; is a 
 permanent factor in Christian history. Scandals and 
 offences are sure to come. Good men are tempted, 
 some in one way, some in another : each according to 
 his weakness. The brilliant, the admired, the trusted, 
 set in conspicuous places, natural leaders of men, 
 stumble and fall. Let not your heart be troubled. 
 Peter denied his Master with an oath. 
 
 Whole communions apostatize : like the old martyr 
 Churches of the Orient ; like the venerable Church of 
 Home, boasting of its relation to Peter, and like him, 
 thrice denying the Lord, in its secular dominion, its 
 worship of the Yirgin and its doctrine of Papal Infal- 
 libility. Verily, powers of darkness are busy ; and the 
 night is long. But let not your heart be troubled, 
 The morning cometh. Peter repented. 
 
300 ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 As for what Christ said about going away and com 
 ing again, changing the economy from flesh to spirit, 
 from sight to faith, it seems strange to us that His 
 Apostles should have been so staggered by it. What 
 could they be thinking of? Another Eabbinic school 
 like that of Hillel or Shammai ? another dynasty like 
 that of the Herods ? or another national uprising like 
 that of the Maccabees ? Those Apostles, to be sure, 
 were Jews, Galileans, peasants, fishermen. But for 
 three years they had been under marvellous tuition ; 
 and we wonder they got so little out of it. The Day 
 of Pentecost had not yet come. 
 
 By and by, men wiU be looking back and wondering 
 at us Christians in these last years of the nineteenth 
 century, that we so poorly understood the Gospel, over- 
 laying it, some of us with ritual, others with dogma. 
 Lament it, my brethren. We have much to be ashamed 
 of. But let not your heart be troubled. More Pente- 
 costs than one have come already. And more are yet 
 to come, with rushing pinions and tongues of flame. 
 
 II. BeUeve in God. 
 
 Commanded belief implies always the possibility of 
 honest unbelief. Such unbelief has increased greatly of 
 late. Bad men, of course, may be expected to saj 
 there is no God. But just now many good men, 
 morally good men, are also saying it, as never before in 
 a hundred years. Partly this new Atheism seems like 
 a reaction against outward authority, and traditional 
 opinions, or against a childish and superstitious theism. 
 Partly it is sheer science, clear-eyed and dispassionate. 
 Science cannot help multiplying the second causes, 
 
UMTBOUBLED FAITH 301 
 
 More and more, things are seen to grow out of, and 
 run into, one another: from mineral to plant, from 
 plant to brute, from brute to man. Within certain 
 limits, evolution is undoubtedly the law. But there 
 remain at least three mysteries which evolution has 
 not explained: the mystery of life, the mystery of 
 self-conscious personality, and the mystery of con- 
 science. Either they were self-existent in the proto- 
 plasm or they were created. If created, no matter how 
 far back it was. If self-existent in the protoplasm, 
 then we shall have to worship the protoplasm. In either 
 case, religion, driven out by the door, comes in again 
 by the window. 
 
 I have no fear of any very long reign of Atheism. 
 In the poor, apathetic and languid Orient, there may 
 be morality enough to conserve society, with little or 
 no religion, as in China. But not in Europe and Amer- 
 ica, full of vitality-, greedy, rich and restless. With 
 us, irreligion to-day is immorality to-morrow and after 
 that the deluge. In this Occidental world mills of the 
 gods are grinding very fast, as well as very fine. 
 
 Much of what passes for belief in God, is mere scho- 
 lastic assent to the proposition that God exists. Or the 
 attributes most emphasized are those pertaining rather 
 to the Divine essence, such as Unity, Self-existence, 
 Absoluteness, Eternity, Invisibility, and Immutability. 
 What we need is a vivid and besetting sense of the 
 Personality of God, in His Omniscience, Omnipresence, 
 Wisdom, Holiness, Justice, Truth, and Love. He must 
 come very close, and be very real, to us, in our whole 
 experience of life. Kight must be what He has told 
 us to do ; wrong, what He has told us not to do, Man- 
 
302 ETEBNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 kind must be His offspring ; and human history, from 
 first to last, the working out of His own eternal and 
 righteous purposes. Nothing surprises, nothing baf- 
 fles, nothing disturbs Him. The worst things are over- 
 ruled for good. Defeat is impossible. One man, with 
 God on his side is the majority that carries the day, 
 " We are but two," said Abu Bakr to Mohammed 
 as they were flying, hunted, from Mecca to Medina. 
 " Nay," answered Mohammed, " we are three ; God is 
 with us." And so belief in God is not mere assent, 
 nor mere conviction, but absolute peirsonal trust, sub- 
 mission and service. 
 
 You and I know very well what troubles us in think- 
 ing of God. Sin makes us afraid of Him. But if He 
 had no hatred of sin, how much worse it would be for 
 us. We might be in the power, by and by, of evil 
 spirits stronger than we are, from whose hideous tyr- 
 anny and torture we.should feel \%, a mercy to be de- 
 livered over to the righteous judgment of a pure and 
 holy God. Where now is the Emperor Tiberius, under 
 whom our Lord was crucified ? The Tiberius that used 
 at Capri to hurl the tortured victims of his cruelty 
 down the precipice into the sea ? Where now is Nero, 
 that other imperial monster who first persecuted the 
 Christian Church? The Nero that lighted up the gar- 
 dens of the Vatican with blazing martyrs ? And where 
 are the many other monsters of history, to be named 
 or thought of only with a shudder ? They are some- 
 where. And what have they been about all these hun- 
 dreds of years ? 
 
 Tou say you are afraid of God. Awful indeed is that 
 eye which never slumbers, that ear which is never dull, 
 
jmrBOUBIJEH) FAITH 303 
 
 that hand which is never withdrawn or palsied, that 
 memory which never forgets, that beam of justice which 
 never tips. Bat what human imagination can picture 
 the horrors of a universe given over to the rioting of 
 evil, unrebuked, unpunished and unrestrained. Thank 
 God for His holiness. Though He slay us, we had bet- 
 ter trust in Him. 
 
 m. BeUeve also in Me. 
 
 In Me, not as a second, rival object of trust, but as 
 God manifest in the flesh, rounded out and historic. 
 Believe in God, as finally and fully revealed in Me. 
 This takes us back into bewildering depths. Sin is a 
 tremendous mystery ; but has Divine permission, and 
 so conditions all our knowledge of God. But for sin, 
 we might never have known, in this world, the sublime 
 Triunity of God. The Triunity would have existed 
 all the same; but might never have been revealed, 
 perhaps could not have been revealed. But for sin, 
 we should have caught no such glimpse of this stu- 
 pendous abyss of the Divine Being and Perfections. 
 But for sin, we should never have known what Love 
 is. Even angels have had to learn it in this way. 
 Triunity, as we have to study it, is God, the whole 
 Godhead, dealing with the problem of moral evil. 
 God the Father creates, rules, and judges. God the 
 Son pities and atones. God the Spirit regenerates 
 and sanctifies. Permitted sin called for redemption, 
 perhaps required it, God owing it to Himself, if not 
 to us. 
 
 " Believe also in Me." The work of atonement is 
 done, was done centuries ago in time, ages ago in eter- 
 
304: ETERNAL ATONEMENT 
 
 nity.' God in Christ now stands pledged to the for- 
 giveness of sin, to the forgiveness of your sins and of 
 mine, their absolute forgiveness, on the single condition 
 of humble and hearty repentance. We may die to- 
 night, intensely conscious of ill-desert, vividly remem- 
 bering many and many a sin of deed, or word, or wish, 
 or thought ; and yet we may die in peace. The man 
 sions are ready for us. The prodigals are welcome. 
 God is Love. God is Christ. 
 
 " Believe also in Me." Human History is God's 
 Judgment Day. Nations are rising and falling. Civ- 
 ilizations are blooming and fading. Human History is 
 also God's Day of Grace. The kingdom began in an 
 Upper Chamber. A hundred and twenty disciples in 
 Jerusalem, five or six hundred in the whole of Pales- 
 tine, these were all, and Jesus of Nazareth had been 
 gone ten days. The Christ had gone ; but the Spirit 
 came, down-rushing on those waiting heads and hearts, 
 and the Christ had come back again to stay. From then 
 tiU now the Kingdom has steadily advanced. Three 
 thousand on the Day of Pentecost ; half a million when 
 John died at Ephesus, and four hundred millions to- 
 day. At first only a dot upon the map ; now whole 
 continents subdued and bannered. 
 
 Challenged by the critical spirit of our time, I have 
 tried to study the Four Gospels, the Acts, the Epistles, 
 and the Apocalypse, just as I study the Koran, the 
 
 ' John xvii. 34 : " For Thou lovedst me before the foundation of 
 the world." 1 Pet. i. 19, 20 : " But with precious blood, as of a 
 lamb without blemish and without spot, even the blood of Christ : 
 who was foreknown indeed before the foundation of the world," 
 etc. Rev. xiii. 8 : " Slain from the foundation of the world" [per 
 haps " written from," etc.]. 
 
UNTROUBLED FAITH 305 
 
 Vedas, or the Zend-Avesta. The steady progress of 
 Christianity from the beginning until now, substan- 
 tially gaining all the while, has no parallel in the his- 
 tory of any other religion. The problem demands 
 solution. And only one solution is possible. But for 
 the magnetism of the felt divinity of Christ, Christian- 
 ity could not have started at all as it did. The Four 
 Gospels could not have been written. Saul of Tarsus 
 could not have been converted. These Four Gospels 
 are magnetic still. Composed in the finest language 
 ever spoken, they carry their divine power into the 
 meanest and poorest of spoken languages. Human de- 
 pravity is rank and stubborn ; but no concession is 
 made to it. The cycles of history have immense diam- 
 eters ; and the march is slow. The shining stars are 
 far apart in the awful spaces. But the throne of God 
 is firm and central, and He that sits upon it was cradled 
 in the Yirgin's arms. And He that sits upon it was 
 also cradled in eternity. " Thou art My Son ; this day 
 have I begotten Thee." ' And then remember the 
 covenant : "Ask of Me, and I shall give Thee the hea- 
 then for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of 
 the earth for Thy possession." * 
 
 If there be any philosophy of History, its final word 
 is Eedemption : God in Christ, reconciling the ages 
 unto Himself. Just a little more Divine pressure on 
 the souls of men, which should come as softly as vernal 
 breezes, and the work might soon be done. Why not 
 this little more ? We wonder, and we cry, " How 
 long ? " God only knows. We have only to labor and 
 to wait. It is of no concern to Christianity what you 
 
 'Ps. ii. 7. «Ps. ii 8. 
 
306 BTEBNAL ATONEMENI 
 
 and I may say of it, or think of it : but of infinite con- 
 cern to ns. Steadily down the centnries, with ponder- 
 ous tread, it moves on all the same, over us, trampled 
 in vain resistance, or through us, trophies at once, and 
 partners, of its triumph. It abandoned to its fate the 
 hostile Koman Empire of the West. It added a thou- 
 sand years to the friendly Roman Empire of the East. 
 It carried mediaeval Europe through such centuries of 
 migration and of violence, as would have wrecked any 
 civilization but this of the Galilean Peasant. It stands 
 to-day the old solid bulwark of liberty and order against 
 license and chaos. 
 
 " Let not your heart be troubled : ye believe in God, 
 believe also in Me." 
 
 And as for you, my brother, be it as the Master will ; 
 the long hard day of toil, or the short hot hour of bat- 
 tle. " Let not your heart be troubled : ye believe in 
 God, believe also in Me." 
 
CHURCH HISTORY. 
 
 THE BEGINNINGS OF CHRISTIANITY. With a View of the 
 State of the Roman World at the Birth of Christ. By 
 GEORGE P. FISHER, D.D., LL.D., Professor of Church 
 History in Yale College. 8vo, $2.50. 
 
 THE BOSTON ADVERTISER.— "Prol. FlBlier tias displayed In this, as m his 
 prevloas pabllsbed writings, tliat catliollclty and tliat calm Judicial quality ol 
 mind vUch are so Indispensable to a true Ustorlcal critic." 
 
 THE EXAMINER.— "The volume is not a dry repetition of well-known facts. 
 It bears the marks of original research. Every page glows with freshness of 
 material and choiceness of diction." 
 
 THE EVANGELIST. — "The volume contains an amount of information that 
 makes It one of the most useful of treatises for a student In philosophy and 
 theology, and most secure for It a place la his library as a standard authority." 
 
 HISTORY OF THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. By GEORGE P. 
 FISHER, O.D., LL.D., Professor of Ecclesiastical History in 
 Yale University. 8vo, with numerous maps, $3,50. 
 
 This work is in several respects notable. It gives an able presenta- 
 tion of the Bubject in a single volume, thus supplying the need of a 
 complete and at the same time condensed survey of Chnrch History. 
 It will also be found much broader and more comprehensive than other 
 books of the kind. The following will indicate its aim and scope. 
 
 FROM THE PREFACE.— "There are two particulars in which I have sought 
 to make the narrative specially serviceable. In the first place the attempt has 
 been made to exhibit folly the relations of the history of Christianity and of the 
 Church to contemporaneous secular history. • * * I have tried to bring out 
 more distinctly than is usually done the interaction of events and changes in the 
 political sphere, with the phenomena which belong more strictly to the ecclesiasti- 
 cal and roligloos province. In the second place It has seemed to me possible to 
 present a tolerably complete survey of the history of theological doctrine. • • • 
 
 " It has appeared to me better to express frankly the conclusions to which my 
 Investigations have led me, on a variety of topics where differences of opinion 
 exist, than to take refuge in ambiguity or silence. Something of the dispassionate 
 temper of an onlooker may be expected to result from historical studies If long 
 pursued ; nor la this an evil, if there is kept allvea warm sympathy with the spirit 
 of holiness and love, ~wherever it is manifest. 
 
 "As this book is designed not for technical students exclusively, but for intel- 
 ligent readers generally, the temptation to enter into extended and miaate dlacuA* 
 BioQS ou perplexed or controverted topics has been resisted." 
 
CHARLES SGRIBNER'S SONS^ 
 
 LECTURES ON THE HISTORrOFTHE JEWISH CHURCH. By 
 ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY, D.D. With Maps and Plans. 
 New Edition from New Plates, with the author's latest revis* 
 ion. Part 1.— From Abraham to Samuel. Part II.— From 
 Samuel to the Captivity. Part III.— From the Captivity to 
 the Christian Era. Three vols., 12mo (sold separately), each 
 $2.00. 
 
 The same— Westminster Edition. Three vols., 8vo (sold in sets 
 only), per set, $9.00. 
 
 LECTURES ON THE HISTORY OF THE EASTERN CHURCH. 
 With an introduction on the Study of Ecclesiastical History^ 
 By ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY, D.D. New Edition from 
 New Plates. 12mo, 82.00. 
 
 LECTURES ON THE HISTORY OF THE CHURCH OF SCOT- 
 LAND. ByARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY, D.D. 8vo, S1.50. 
 
 In all that concerns the external characteristics of the scenes and 
 persons described, Dr. Stanley is entirely at home. TTia books are not 
 dry records of historic events, but animated pictures of historic scenes 
 and of the actors in them, while the human motives and aspects of 
 events are brought out in bold and full relief. 
 
 THE LONDON CRITIC— " Earnest, eloquent, learned, wltli a style tliat Is 
 never monotonouB, but luring tlu:ougli Its eloquence, tlie lectures will maintain 
 Ills fame as author, scbolar, and divlue. We could point out many passages that 
 glow with a true poetic Are, but there are hundreds plctorlally rich and poetically 
 true. The reader experiences no weariness, for In every page and paragraph 
 there Is something to engage the mind and refresh the soul." 
 
 THE NEW ENGLANDER.—" We have first to express our admiration of the 
 grace and graphic beauty of his style. The felicitous discrimination In the use 
 oflanguage which appears on every page Is especially required on these topics, 
 where the author's position might so easily be mistaken through an unguarded 
 statement. Dr. Stanley is possessed of the prime quality of an historical student 
 and writer— namely, the historical feeling, or sense, by which conditions of life 
 and types of character, remote from our present experience, ore vividly con- 
 ceived of and truly appreciated." 
 
 THE N. Y. TIMES.— "The Old Testament History Is here presented as It 
 never was presented before ; with so much clearness, elegance of style, and his- 
 toric and literary illustration, not to speaK of learning and calmness of Judgment, 
 that not theologians alone, but also cultivated readers generally, are drawn to its 
 pages. In point of style it takes rank with Macaolay's History and the best 
 chapters of Froude." 
 
STANDARD TEXT BOOKS. 
 
 HISTORY OF THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. By PHILIP SCHAFF, 
 D.D. New Edition, re-written and enlarged. Vol. I.— Apos- 
 tolic Christianity, A.D. 1—100. Vol. II.— Ante-Nicene Chris- 
 tianity, A.D. 100—325. Vol. III.— Nicene and Post-Nioene 
 Christianity, A.D. 311-600. Vol. IV.-Mediaeval Christianity, 
 A.D. 590—1073. 8vo, price per vol., $4.00. 
 
 This work is extremely comprehensive. All subjects that properly 
 belong to a complete sketch are treated, including the history of Chris- 
 tian art, hymnology, accounts of the lives and chief works of the 
 Fathers of the Church, etc. The great theological, christological, and 
 anthropological controversies of the period are duly sketched ; and in 
 all the details of history the organizing hand of a master is distinctly 
 seen, shaping the mass of materials into order and system. 
 
 PROF. GEO. P. FISHER, of Tale College.— " Vr. Soliaff lias t&orouglily and 
 saccessfolly acocmpllslied Ms task. Tlie volomea are replete ivltli eviaencea ol a 
 careful study ol tlie original sources and of an extraordinary and, we mlgM say, 
 unsurpassed acquaintance wltti tlie modem literature— German, French, and 
 English— In the department ol ecclesiastical history. Tley are equally marked by 
 a lalr-mlnded, conscientious spirit, as well as by a lucid, animated mode ol 
 presentation." 
 
 PROF. ROSWELL D. HITCHCOCK, D.D.— "In no otner single work ol 
 Its Mnd with whlcli I am acquainted will students and general readers find so 
 much to Instruct and interest them." 
 
 DR. JUL. MULLER, Of HaZle.— "It la the only history of the first six cen- 
 turies which truly satisfies the wants ol the present age. It is rich In results of 
 original Investigation." 
 
 HISTORY OF THE CHURCH OF CHRIST, IN CHRONOLOGI- 
 CAL TABLES. A Synchronistic View of the Events, Charac- 
 teristics, and Culture of each period, including the History of 
 Polity, Worship, Literature, and Doctrines, together with two 
 Supplementary Tables upon the Church in America;' and an 
 Appendix, containing the series of Councils, Popes, Patri- 
 archs, and other Bishops, and a full Index. By the late 
 HENRY B. SMITH, D.D., Professor in the Union Theologi- 
 cal Seminary of the City of New York. Revised Edition. 
 Folio, S5.00. 
 
 REV. DR. W. G. T. SHEDD.— "Prol. Smith's Historical Tables are w^ best 
 that I know ol In any language. In preparing such a work, with so much care and 
 research, Prol. Smith has lumlshed to the student an apparatus that will be ol 
 llle-long service to him" 
 
 REV. DR. WILLIAM ADAMS.— "The labor expended upon such a work la 
 mimense, and Its accuracy and completeness dc honor to the research and 
 8«holaTBlilp ol Its author, and are an Invaluable acquisition to our literature." 
 
CHRISTIAN EVIDENCES AND 
 HOMILETICS. 
 
 THE GROUNDS OF THEISTIC AND CHRISTIAN BELIEF. By 
 Prof. GEORGE P. FISHER, O.D., LL.D., Professor of 
 Ecclesiastical History in Yale College. Crown 8vo, $2.50. 
 
 FROM THE PREFACE.—" TlilB TOlnme embraces a discussion of the evldencei. 
 of botli natnral and revealed religion. Prominence Is given to topics bavlng 
 Bpeclal Interest at present from their connection with modem theories and dlffl- 
 coltles. The argnment of design, and the bearing of evolntlonaiy doctrines 
 on Its validity, are fnllj considered. I have sought to direct the reader into lines 
 of reflection vrhlch may serve to Impress him with the trnth contained In the 
 remark that the strongest proof of Christianity Is afforded by Christianity Itself, 
 and by Christendom as an existing fact. I ventore to Indulge the hope that they 
 may derive from It some aid m clearing np perplexities, and some new light npon 
 the nature of the Christian faith and Its relation to the Scriptnres." 
 
 JULIUS H. SEELYE, PresUUnt of Aniherst College.— "ItnA It asl should ex- 
 pect It to be, wise and candid, and convincing to an honest mind. I congratulate 
 yon upon Its publication, la which you seem to me to hare rendered a high 
 pnbllc service." 
 
 PROF. JAMES o. MURRAY, Of Princeton CoZZeffe.—" The volume meets here 
 a great want, and meets It well. It Is eminently fitted to meet the honest doubta 
 of some of onr best young men. Its fairness and candor, its learning and ability 
 In argument. Its thorough handling of modern objections— all these Qualities fit it 
 for such a service, and a great service it Is." 
 
 ESSAYS ON THE SUPERNATURAL ORIGIN OF CHRISTIAN- 
 ITY. By Prof. GEORGE P. FISHER, D.D., LL.D., Professor 
 of Ecclesiastical History in Yale College. 8vo, new and 
 enlarged edition, S2.50. 
 
 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW.—" Able and scholarly essays on the Super- 
 natural Origin of Christianity, In which Prof. Fisher discusses such subjects as 
 the genuineness of the Gospel of John, Baur's view of early Christian History and 
 Literature, and the mythical theory of Strauss." 
 
 THE NEW YORK TRIBUNE.— "His volume evinces rare versatility of intellect, 
 with a scholarship no less sound and judicious in Its tone and extensive In its 
 attainments than it is modest In its pretensions." 
 
 THE BRITISH QUARTERLY REVIEW " We know not Where the Student Will 
 
 find a more satisfactory guide In relation to the great questions wlilch have grown 
 np between the friends of the Christian revelation and the moat able of its assail- 
 ants, within tUe memory of the present generation."