CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
Date Due 
 
 Cornell University Library 
 BX9178 .N61 
 
 Preciousness of God's thoughts : sermons 
 
 olin 
 
 3 1924 029 476 201 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924029476201 
 
The Preciousness 
 of God's Thoughts 
 
G. PARSONS NICHOLS 
 
The Preciousness 
 of God's Thoughts 
 
 Sermons and Addresses 
 By 
 
 G. PARSONS NICHOLS, D.D. 
 
 With a Memoir 
 
 New York Chicago Toronto 
 
 Fleming H. Revell Company 
 
 London and Edinburgh 
 
Copyright, 1909, by 
 FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 
 
 /t ^^W7 
 
 New York: 158 Fifth Avenue 
 Chicago : 80 Wabash Avenue 
 Toronto : 25 Richmond St., W. 
 London : 21 Paternoster Square 
 Edinburgh : 100 Princes Street 
 
Contents 
 
 Memoir 9 
 
 Sermons : 
 
 The Preciousness of God's Thoughts 37 
 
 The Morning Star 51 
 
 Unused Spices 64 
 
 Ideal Aims 78 
 
 God's Self-Given Name 96 
 
 The Old Paths 109 
 
 Strengthening The Things That Remain 127 
 
 Jesus Hiding His Face 139 
 
 Contentment 152 
 
 On Taking a Rest 165 
 
 The Scope and Outlook of Life 177 
 
 'Addresses on Special Occasions: 
 
 Addresses 191 
 
 At Board of Trade Dinner 193 
 
 Greeting to Congregation 199 
 
 Appeal for Church Decoration 202 
 
 Appeal for Confession of Christ 206 
 
 Address at Holy Communion 209 
 
 A Children's Sermon 213 
 
 Report on Synodieal Home Missions 218 
 
 An Ordination Charge 223 
 
Memoir 
 
Memoir. 
 
 Gideon Parsons Nichols was born on July 30, 1837, 
 in Windsor, Massachusetts, a village in the Berkshire 
 hUls, near Pittsfield. His father was Abiel Nichols, a 
 farmer and blacksmith, and his mother was Jerusha 
 Knight Parsons, both of New England blood for gen- 
 erations. They had only this child, and the mother 
 died when he was two and a half years old. Soon 
 after the father married his first wife's sister, who 
 was in every possible way indeed a mother to the boy. 
 
 He was a rather extraordinary child. He learned to 
 read at the age of four, his textbooks being a child's 
 tin plate bearing the letters of the alphabet and the 
 words on the kitchen stove. He used to go to the 
 village grocery store in the evenings, and in return for 
 a handful of raisins, which were sweetmeats to him, 
 perched on a cracker-barrel he would read the Bible 
 to a group of men. His mother seemed to see that the 
 boy had a more than ordinary aptitude for books, and 
 she did her utmost to encourage him in his studies. 
 Though she knew nothing of Latin, she insisted that 
 Parsons (as he was always called by his intimates) 
 learn it, and with pathetic ludicrousness she had him 
 recite to her imtaught ears. 
 
 Youth brought to him little of the freedom and 
 joy that come to most young men. For some months 
 of the year he spent part of the day in the school- 
 
 9 
 
10 MEMOIR 
 
 house, but during the rest of the time he helped on 
 the farm — and only those who know the Berkshires 
 know what farming there means. One of the few 
 things on which he ever prided himself was his speed 
 in mowing with the scythe. Besides his farm-work 
 he helped in the cooking and the care of the house, 
 because his mother had become an invalid, tortured 
 by chronic rheumatism. The expenses of her long ill- 
 ness straitened Abiel Nichols' means, and cost the son 
 what seemed his only chance of further education. 
 But when he was seventeen years old a door opened to 
 him. 
 
 His uncle, the-Eeverend James Nichols, was prin- 
 cipal of Temple HiU Academy, at Geneseo, New York. 
 He and his wife (the S. J. N. of the letters hereafter 
 quoted) now offered to receive their nephew under 
 their care, and this made it possible for him to attend 
 the academy, which provided preparation for college. 
 Those who remember the quiet assured air of power 
 with which Dr. Nichols moved in every variety of duty 
 and in many trying and difficult occasions cannot 
 imagine the shyness and reserve of the boy who came 
 to his uncle's rooms in Geneseo for his weekly pack- 
 age of clean clothes — sitting uneasy on the edge of a 
 chair, abashed before the kindest of aunts and his un- 
 noticing little cousins. Hardly a word could his aunt 
 get from him, and it was a source of unfailing regret 
 and self-reproach to her that she could not win him 
 to talk to her as others did. This shyness continued 
 indeed to Ms manhood, and seemed to him a serious 
 objection to his becoming a minister. "How can I 
 
MEMOIR 11 
 
 ever go into a house uninvited? How can I talk to 
 strangers about their domestic or spiritual concerns?" 
 he would often say. Yet he overcame this sensitive 
 timidity, and became a most faithful, welcome and 
 sympathetic pastor. 
 
 His first confession of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ 
 was made in the Presbyterian Church of Geneseo in 
 July of 1855. Next year he transferred his member- 
 ship to the church at Moscow, New York, where he 
 taught a winter school. 
 
 "With two years' study he was ready for college. 
 Then the problem was how to get the necessary money. 
 In those days the idea prevailed that a son's earnings 
 until his coming of age belonged to his father; and 
 Abiel Nichols had done much for his son, aU. that he 
 could do, in letting him go away from the home where 
 he was greatly needed in quest of education. Union 
 CoUege was in the height of its glory at that time, 
 under the presidency of the famous Eliphalet Nott, 
 and the Civil War had not yet cut its attendance in 
 half. His uncle James Nichols had graduated there, 
 and thither the young man determined to go. In the 
 autimm of 1856 he arrived in Schenectady, possessing 
 five dollars and the hope of obtaining a scholarship. 
 This aid was awarded on the basis of work during the 
 first six weeks, so that his five dollars had to carry this 
 aspirant at least this time. It did, and he won the 
 scholarship, but the combination of hard work and 
 little food left him a sickness of several weeks. 
 
 At the end of his four years he graduated as vale- 
 
12 MEMOIR 
 
 dictorian of a somewhat famous class, that of 1860. 
 In college he was a charter member of the Union chap- 
 ter of the fraternity of Delta Kappa Epsilon, and a 
 member of Phi Beta Kappa. After graduation he 
 taught for two years in the Academy at Wamerville, 
 New York, a town not far from Albany, and it was 
 during his first year there that he determined to enter 
 the Christian miuistry, in the Presbyterian Church. 
 
 Rev. James Nichols had removed in 1858 from 
 Geneseo to Rochester, and had become principal of the 
 Rochester Female Academy. From that time his 
 nephew's vacations were regularly spent with the 
 family at Rochester, and he became really a member 
 of it, not through any formal adoption, but through 
 that of the mind and heart. His uncle's wife became, 
 as he loved to call her, his mother, and between them 
 there existed the closest intellectual and spiritual sym- 
 pathy, as regular weekly letters for many years show. 
 In 1862 his uncle went to the war, as Chaplain of the 
 108th New York State Volunteers, and in 1864 he died 
 at Rochester, of disease contracted in the service. 
 In these circumstances the nephew assumed the cares 
 and duties of an elder son and brother, and gave much 
 assistance in the teaching of the Academy. Later his 
 marriage with his uncle's eldest daughter only made 
 stronger the loving ties already happily formed. 
 
 G. P. N. to D. B. N. 
 
 Windsor, April, 1861. 
 What shall I say of myself? Teaching in Wamer- 
 ville, a new school established last autumn, eighty students the 
 
MEMOIR 13 
 
 past term. I seem to have been moderately successful. A pe- 
 tition from the students has been presented desiring to make 
 me priQcipal, which I declined. I have engaged myself for 
 another year. A proposal has just been extended to remain 
 five years. I shall refuse. I hope to commence my studies 
 for the ministry in the fall. 
 
 To S. J. N. 
 
 WamerviUe, May, 1862. 
 Your letter was a flower and a feast, true to yourself, kind 
 and faithful to me, and withal so discerning and delicate. I 
 am well pleased to be called the child of your adoption, your 
 boy. "Well, I vrill love you and trust you, and perhaps by 
 and by, as you lead me up to higher truths and a better man- 
 hood than I now know, my continued delight and increasing 
 strength will give you pleasure, and lend fresh expression to 
 my gratitude. But I am only a child now. I wish I was reaUy 
 a child, or rather I wish I had commenced to love Christ when 
 I was a small, a very small boy — when I was credulous and 
 trustful. That accursed college skepticism, I fear it will creep 
 in and disturb my peace forever 
 
 To S. J. N. 
 
 Warnerville, June, 1862. 
 
 I cannot get close enough to Christ. I wish you would 
 
 ask Him to fold me nearer to His bosom I think I 
 
 should like to join the church again by confession, but not yet. 
 What do you think? But I suppose you do not know my heart 
 well enough to say. Write me a very long letter, and love me. 
 
 To S. J. N. 
 
 Albany, August, 1862. 
 I go home this afternoon. Please write me there, will you, 
 dear mother, just a little reference to the war. The necessity 
 of the country seems to put aside all private interests, and I 
 think my — . I think I should like to join the church in 
 Rochester, whether I go to the Seminary or elsewhere. I was 
 named First Lieutenant of a company in Warnerville, but 
 resigned for several reasons. 
 
14 MEMOIR 
 
 To S. J. N. 
 
 Windsor, August, 1862. 
 It seems a long time since I wrote to you, and I begin to 
 feel how strong an influence both to restrain from sin and to 
 strengthen in steadfast abiding faith in Christ you hold over 
 
 me. I thank God for you As to my letter from Albany — 
 
 for some weeks I have felt that it was the duty of every 
 man to give his strength to the country, not to pray alone, 
 for God does not work without means often, but to put 
 his right arm forward I thought to go from Massa- 
 chusetts, that my friends might of tener know my whereabouts 
 and whatabouts. I spoke to Father in reference to the matter 
 when I came home, he objected very strongly. If I do not go, 
 and can be of use to you in Rochester, I shall not willingly go 
 to Princeton. That can be discussed when I come to E. the 
 last of this month. 
 
 Your fond child, 
 
 Parsons. 
 
 As these letters show, in his college life their writer 
 had passed through a period of doubts and disre- 
 regard of some church observances, and he felt it 
 more manly and honorable to his Lord and to himself 
 to make a second public consecration of himself to 
 His service. Accordingly he was received into the 
 communion of the First Presbyterian Church of 
 Rochester in September, 1862. Immediately there- 
 after he went to Princeton Theological Seminary, to 
 prepare himself for the ministry. He went through 
 the course of three years, and greatly enjoyed his 
 studious life there. During all his time at Princeton 
 most full and beautiful letters were sent regularly to 
 the Rochester home, especially to Mrs. James Nichols. 
 
MEMOIR 15 
 
 To S. J. N. 
 
 Princeton, Nov., 1863. 
 
 How infinitely kind of our dear Eedeemer to make us 
 
 even here in some sort partakers of His glory, to use you in 
 so great a degree for my edification, and to use me, though it 
 be ever so little, for your comfort. Yet how unworthy! And 
 how truly says the Apostle ' ' by the foolishness of preaching ' ' ! 
 Yet He does so use us, and every day I thank God for you, as 
 I think how much He has used you to build me up, and en- 
 courage me to perseverance, and remove my fears. It seems 
 almost that, like the churches of St. Paul, I am the fruit of 
 your hands, your child in Christ. 
 
 To S. J. N. 
 
 Princeton, Jan., 1865. 
 
 It is indeed a marvellous way by which God has led 
 
 me through the instrumentality of kind friends from the hoe 
 and shovel to the study of the glorious gospel. My life ought 
 to be entirely consecrated to God for this reason, were there no 
 other. But I never can forget the instruments which God used 
 to accomplish nearly all this. My mother often whispered such 
 things in my ear when I was still young, but the only way she 
 could see by which it could be accomplished was in some way 
 through Uncle James. There is little doubt ihat that was the 
 only way. 
 
 Your boy Parsons. 
 
 Mr. Nicliols was licensed to preach by the Presby- 
 tery of Rochester City ia May, 1865. But an ilhiess 
 with typhoid fever in the autumn of this year inter- 
 rupted his progress toward the ministry. He de- 
 clined the call of the Calvary Presbyterian Church of 
 Rochester, and taught in the Academy there, preach- 
 ing occasionally, until June of 1866. Then he went 
 to the charge of the Presbyterian Church of Victor, 
 New York, a village near Rochester, "my Eden" as 
 
16 MEMOIR 
 
 he always called it. It was not until May 1, 1867, 
 that he was ordained to the ministry, in the church 
 of his membership, the First Presbyterian Church of 
 Rochester. 
 
 No account of his life would be complete without 
 reference to the great gift of friends to care for him 
 which God granted him in every place. This was 
 especially true in Victor ; and those who have derived 
 help and inspiration from his preaching owe it in 
 great measiire to the wise and appreciative encourage- 
 ment of Mr. D. Henry Osborne, without which Mr. 
 Nichols always felt he would have left the ministry. 
 Mr. Osborne's beautiful home was like a father's 
 house to him, and there he was not only the esteemed 
 minister, but also the petted son. Many times during 
 the first year he would say on Sunday night, in real 
 and utter despair, "I can never write another sermon. 
 I shall pack my books in the morning and go back to 
 teaching." "Bat your bread and milk; we wiU see 
 about that," Mr. Osborne would say. Then after 
 some wise praise he would go on, "Next Sunday 
 night you preach what you preached last Sunday 
 morning. We shall all be glad to heart it. Tou can 
 think up something for next Sunday morning. Go 
 up to Rochester for a day or two. ' ' This programme 
 was literally carried out often during that year. In 
 the second year a blessed revival of God's Spirit came 
 to the church. More than sixty persons, mostly 
 adults, were added to it. And never after that did 
 Mr. Nichols desire to do anything but preach. 
 
MEMOIR 17 
 
 The Rochester family were all made most welcome 
 in the Osborne home, and it was there, in June of 
 1867, that words of betrothal were spoken with Delia 
 B. Nichols. Since her help was needed at home, the 
 marriage was delayed until June of 1871. 
 
 To v. B. N. 
 
 Victor, Jan., 1868. 
 I am afraid I shall be disappointed of seeing you this week. 
 
 I don 't know that I should say ' ' I am afraid of being 
 
 disappointed" — I ought to rejoice that I have such a cause 
 for sacrificing my pleasure. It seems, Darling, as if the won- 
 derful Fire were indeed burning in our hearts. The Week of 
 Prayer was marked by good attendance and a prayerful spirit. 
 Sabbath morning I preached from the parable of the lost sheep. 
 We had a prayer-meeting Sabbath evening before service, and 
 requests were made that meetings for prayer and conference 
 be held during the earlier part of the week. Rather against my 
 judgment I appointed meetings each evening until Thursday. 
 To-night, much less against it, I gave notice of meetings during 
 
 the remainder of the week Requests for prayers have 
 
 been brought in, about a dozen in all, by the unconverted. 
 And now, my Dear One, pray for me 
 
 To D. B. N. 
 
 Victor, Jan., 1868. 
 
 God is stiU very merciful to His church. Mr. — 
 
 feels that he is forgiven. Mr. — hopes he is found of the 
 Saviour. Mr. — arose in this evening's prayer-meeting and 
 gave in his determination, and asked the intercession of Chris- 
 tians. These are all members of my Bible class. Mr. — 
 gives touching evidence of a new birth. He also is the head of 
 a family. Is it not wonderful and wonderfully delightful? 
 It is a very pleasant thing to think I am in your even- 
 ing worship. Will you not remember my Bible class? I think 
 of only one unconcerned person in it. 
 
18 MEMOIR 
 
 To D. B. N. 
 
 Victor, Jan. 31, 1868. 
 
 About the revival — we are like them that dream ; Uke 
 
 the streams of the south is our captivity turned. Including 
 Mr. P., we have now nine young married men who have come 
 over to the side of the Lord and His church, six married ladies 
 and ten or twelve unmarried ladies, two or three boys and as 
 many girls, and we hope that the Lord stUl has gracious pur- 
 poses toward us. There are yet two classes whose ranks are 
 almost unbroken, persons past the age of forty and under that 
 of twenty on the side of the males. The attendance increases. 
 We have a young men's prayer-meeting conducted by them- 
 selves. Praise the Lord for His goodness; and yet I tremble 
 at such mercy. 
 
 To D. B. N. 
 
 Victor, May, 1868. 
 
 There is hardly anything so rich and suggestive as 
 
 the Sacrament of the Holy Conmiunion. And the miracles, too, 
 are opening up to me quite as richly as did the parables, only 
 I cannot manage to present their riches in so attractive a form. 
 I have preached upon two, without gaining much interest for 
 either one. It is too bad, for I think the people are losing 
 precious truth in not getting hold of them. Perhaps I shall 
 find some better plan for bringing them out sometime 
 
 To D. B. N. 
 
 Victor, June, 1869. 
 
 Your letter Saturday night did me a great deal of 
 
 good. I had concluded, but it was more a result of feeling than 
 of judgment, not to say anything on the Sabbath about my 
 personal relations to the church; but you spoke out so warmly 
 that I was touched as with a spark, and one of the memories 
 I had when I arose next day in church was of your "three 
 happy good years." And so you helped me more perhaps than 
 you thought 
 
MEMOIR 19 
 
 Mr. Nichols lived in Victor "three happy good 
 years," and in September of 1869 went thence to the 
 Olivet Presbyterian Church of Chicago. Very soon 
 after taking up this charge, he had a serious illness, 
 but the kindest of friends were again given to him. 
 The hospitable home of Mr. Edward Ely was opened 
 to him, and became his home during his stay in 
 Chicago. This lasted only imtil the union of the 
 Olivet Church and the Second Presbyterian Church 
 could be arranged. The union was felt by aU con- 
 cerned to be wise, and both ministers resigned in order 
 to effect it. 
 
 In March, 1871, Mr. Nichols accepted the call of 
 Immanuel Presbyterian Church of Milwaukee, and 
 immediately went there. This church had just been 
 formed by the joining of an Old School and a New 
 School church, and by characteristic tact and skill 
 he moulded the imited body into one harmonious 
 whole. Shortly after his coming, the church received 
 large accessions from two Congregational churches, so 
 that the Immanuel congregation was one of extraor- 
 dinary strength. 
 
 Those who remember the acknowledged leadership 
 of Mr. Nichols in both the Milwaukee and Binghamton 
 presbyteries wiU be interested in the following note. 
 
 To 8. J. N. 
 
 Chicago, March, 1871. 
 I have pretty much decided to go to Milwaukee.. .».. .A 
 point upon which I have many fears as to my ability is the 
 leading position which the church holds and which the pastor 
 
20 MEMOIR 
 
 must take in all the ecclesiastical matters of the state. As you 
 know, I have neither skill, experience nor taste for that branch 
 of work. Sometimes it looks positively impossible to meet that 
 demand. I think the church is apprehensive upon this point aa 
 well as myself. 
 
 In June of 1871 he brought his bride to Milwaukee, 
 and for ten happy years that was his home. His five 
 children were born during this time. They were 
 years of incessant labor in the church, as is attested 
 by the following resolutions, adopted by the congrega- 
 tion of Immanuel Church at the end of them. 
 
 "Whereas our beloved pastor, the Reverend G. P. Nichols, has 
 tendered his absolute and unconditional resignation, for reasons 
 deemed by him 'imperative and providential,' of the pastorate 
 held by him for a period of more than ten years in this church 
 and society, and 
 
 AVhereas we are called upon to assent to the dissolution of 
 the relations which have so long and so pleasantly existed be- 
 tween pastor and people, 
 
 Eesolved, That we, the members of Immanuel Church and 
 
 Society, deem it but an act of simple justice to our 
 
 pastor, as well as a duty we owe ourselves, that in assenting 
 to his request for a dissolution of his pastoral relations with 
 this people, we should accompany such assent with a public 
 recognition of the faithfulness, the devotion, and the marked 
 
 success, which have characterized these years of service 
 
 To show that this stewardship has been crowned with the 
 tokens of divine favor, it is only necessary to refer to the 
 facts that the membership of the church has increased from 
 about 200 to 520; that the aggregate attendance upon the 
 Sabbath services has been largely augmented; that the weekly 
 prayer-meeting has been rendered one of the most agreeable 
 and interesting of all the church gatherings; that two mission 
 churches have been established, both of which are prosperous 
 and accomplishing an important work in the community; and 
 
MEMOIR 21 
 
 that a magnificent church edifice has been erected, the entire 
 cost of which has been liquidated during this period. 
 
 Toi sever relations which have continued, with such unmis- 
 takable marks of the Divine blessing, for a period of ten years, 
 and have never been disturbed by one moment of discord, 
 can but be regarded as an event of deep interest to all con- 
 cerned, and of solemn far-reaching import In yielding to 
 
 the request of our pastor in this regard, we cannot do less than 
 testify our appreciation of the loss sustained in the surrender 
 of a pastor endeared to us by years of pleasant intercourse, and 
 by a multitude of tender and impressive memories of a scholarly 
 and able sermonizer, who has few superiors in the pulpit and 
 none in the social prayer-meeting, and whose felicitous ad- 
 dresses on many special occasions of public interest have re- 
 flected honor upon the church; of a courteous Christian gentle- 
 man more solicitous to serve others than himself, and of a 
 public-spirited and worthy citizen. It is safe to say that there 
 is not a member of this church or society, old or young, who 
 cherishes other than the kindest sentiments and the most affec- 
 tionate regard for our pastor and every member of his house- 
 hold; not one who will not follow them with the earnest desire 
 and prayer that the choicest blessings of our common Master 
 may rest upon them and abide with them wherever their lot 
 may fall." 
 
 "While he was living in Milwaukee Mr. Nichols was 
 for several years a trustee of Lake Forest University, 
 and at the end of his service, in 1881, the university 
 conferred upon him the degree of Doctor of Divinity. 
 
 He hoped for a year's rest after laying down his 
 Milwaukee pastorate, his church having given him 
 fuU salary for six months to come, and with this in 
 view he took his family to Rochester in June of 1881. 
 But he rested only until September of that year, 
 when he received calls to Calvary Presbyterian Church 
 of Buffalo and the First Presbyterian Church of Bing- 
 
22 MEMOIR 
 
 hamton. After much thougM choice was made of the 
 smaller church, which seemed to suggest less work and 
 a quieter home for the family, and he removed to 
 Biaghamton in November, 1881. The hand of the 
 Lord was evidently in this choice, and for the rest of 
 his life, except for a few months, the church in Biag- 
 hamton was his beloved home. The interruption of 
 his residence there resulted from a caU to the pastor- 
 ate of the Central Presbyterian Church of Denver, 
 given in the autumn of 1887. This he conditionally 
 accepted, and he went to Denver in November of that 
 year. But his wife was unable to endure the altitude 
 of the place. In June of the next year he returned to 
 the church in Binghamton, which had kept their 
 home for the family and the pulpit for the minister, 
 to finish his days there amid the universal and un- 
 feigned esteem and affection of those he loved. 
 
 Dr. Nichols remained pastor of the First Church 
 of Binghamton until January 1, 1906, when failing 
 health compelled him to resign the charge. He was 
 then named Pastor Emeritus of the church, with 
 salary, and so continued until his death. During his 
 pastorate in Binghamton he received several calls and 
 offers of them from various places, including second 
 calls from Immanuel Church of Milwaukee and Cal- 
 vary of Buffalo. Some of these opportunities were 
 very attractive financially, but Dr. Nichols loved 
 the church in Binghamton and its people, and knew 
 that they loved him, and refused to be tempted away. 
 
 The following extract from a historical account 
 
MEMOIR 23 
 
 of the First Church of Binghamton gives some idea 
 of his work there: "The phenomenal growth and 
 development of the church during the tenth and long- 
 est pastorate of its history is to be chiefly referred 
 to the spirit of mutual love, unbroken amity, and 
 hearty co-operation manifested by the people them- 
 selves. The love-knot of peace and like-miadedness 
 one with another was the grand secret of aU our in- 
 crease in numbers, labor, and offerings The 
 
 principal features of this quarter of a century of the 
 church's history were its large Sunday congregations, 
 its enriched service of worship, its inspiring prayer- 
 meetings, its extended Sunday-school operations, its 
 church-erection and church-extension enterprises in 
 the outlying districts of the city, its removal of 
 church-debt, its increased benevolent contributions, 
 its rehabilitated house of worship, its missionary ope- 
 rations, its fruits of soul-winning labor, and the con- 
 tinuous increase of its membership." Eighteen hun- 
 dred and seventy-nine persons were received into the 
 church during this period. The offerings of the people 
 for congregational expenses were $213,651, and for 
 benevolent purposes $219,641. 
 
 Dr. Nichols was a loyal and enthusiastic Presby- 
 terian. It was largely due to his efforts that three 
 Presbyterian churches were established in new sec- 
 tions of Binghamton during his pastorate. For many 
 years he administered the work of Synodical Home 
 Missions in his presbytery with great eflSciency, main- 
 taining existing churches and planting new ones. Yet 
 
24 MEMOIR 
 
 perhaps the chief characteristic of both his thinking 
 and his ministry was their true Christian catholicity. 
 He made much of the things that are common to all 
 Christians, and little of those that separate them. He 
 knew and drew inspiration from the great men of all 
 parts and ages of the Church. Did space permit giv- 
 ing it, a list of titles of sermons would show the wide 
 range of his subjects. A series of evening sermons 
 on the leaders of the medieval Church, St. Bernard 
 of Clairvaux, St. Francis of Assisi, and others, at- 
 tracted special attention. A Roman Catholic priest 
 once publicly advised his congregation to hear these, 
 and at the time of Dr. Nichols' death favorable com- 
 ment upon them appeared in the papers representing 
 this communion. He earnestly desired the imity of 
 the Church, and in regard to the placing of new 
 churches strove for arrangements of comity between 
 denominations, to prevent competition and duplica- 
 tion of effort. He recognized aU Christians as his 
 brothers in Christ, and this spirit of his won response 
 from ministers and laymen of all names. 
 
 Two special features of his pastoral administration 
 may be mentioned. He greatly loved beauty and dig- 
 nity in public worship, and was one of the pioneers 
 among Presbyterians in the use of enriched orders of 
 service. In work for yoimg people he was also early 
 in the field, organizing in 1882 a young people's 
 society according to plans of his own, which provided 
 for almost all the activities that have since become 
 universal in such societies. 
 
MEMOIR 25 
 
 Dr. Nichols had an illness in the summer of 1904, 
 and only partially recovered from it, but he continued 
 to be of much service to the congregation. An extract 
 from a friend's letter is the best comment on this 
 
 part of his life : " Did he not fight a good fight, 
 
 those four long years of weariness and pain and heart- 
 breaking recognition that his beautiful work was 
 not to be continued? That seems to me the most 
 pathetic part for him, to know he could do so much 
 so well, and wait patiently while another stood in his 
 place. He never was so fine to me as in the way 
 he accepted this hard lot for such a man, and greeted 
 us with that heavenly spirit and face. His beautiful 
 bowed head in the last hymn that last Sunday morn- 
 ing I saw him (do look in the hymn-book, 761 — 
 
 'My journey soon will end, 
 
 My staff and scrip laid down; 
 Oh! tempt me not with earthly toys, 
 I go to wear a crown.') 
 
 will always be remembered. I felt that he felt the 
 words and I might never see him there again. It is 
 such a satisfaction that those last services and words 
 should have been so fitting for such a life. The 
 editorials in the Republican and Judge Lyon's re- 
 marks on adjourning court were as you felt they 
 should be, appreciative of what is highest in char- 
 acter, which they paused long enough in these scurry- 
 ing days to recognize. ' ' 
 During the summer of 1908 Dr. Nichols seemed 
 
26 MEMOIR 
 
 stronger, and with his children and grandchildren 
 around him enjoyed his summer home on Mount 
 Prospect. His children are Reverend Robert Hastings 
 Nichols, Ph.D., of Trinity Presbyterian Church, South 
 Orange, N. J., Mrs. William H. Smith, of Bast 
 Orange, N. J., Captain Henry J. Nichols, M.D., of 
 the United States Army Medical Corps, Miss Content 
 Shepard Nichols, instructor in Bryn Mawr College, 
 and James K. Nichols, attorney-at-law, of Bingham- 
 ton. 
 
 To D. B. N. 
 
 San Franciseo, July, 1876. 
 " Well, life is a blessed thing to have ■with such a wife- 
 love God is good to have made you and given you to 
 
 me." 
 
 To D. B. N. 
 
 Estes Park, Colo., July, 1898. 
 "How good God has been to us, an unbroken family, and 
 how much joy has come to me through you, and through all and 
 each " 
 
 In July and August of 1908 Dr. Nichols was able 
 to do some pastoral work, and officiated at several 
 funerals. He was apparently quite well until early 
 in September, when a general break-down occurred, 
 and after an illness of ten days he died at his home 
 on September 17. The end was remarkably peaceful, 
 and the family gathered at the bedside were unaware 
 of the exact moment of dissolution. He died as he 
 had always liked to say of the deaths of others, and 
 as the Acts of the Apostles says of David, "having 
 
MEMOIR 27 
 
 served his generation by the will of God, he fell on 
 sleep." Until an hour or two before his death he was 
 able to recognize his children, all of whom except 
 Captain Nichols were at the bedside. He missed 
 this son, and spoke his name once or twice, and said 
 "Are all five here?" shortly before he died. He 
 faintly repeated the first words of the Twenty-third 
 Psalm and the Lord's Prayer, and they were repeated 
 by the family. 
 
 "Nothing is here for tears; nothing to wail, 
 To knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt. 
 Dispraise, or blame; nothing but well and fair. 
 And what may quiet us in a death so noble. ' ' 
 
 The funeral service was held in the First Church 
 on September 21. After prayers at the house the 
 body of Dr. Nichols was taken to the church, and 
 during three hours many came to see the loved face 
 for the last time. A detail from the Sixth Battery, 
 N. G. S. N. Y., of which Dr. Nichols was Chaplain, 
 and officers of the church stood as guard of honor at 
 this time. The beautiful church was made more beau- 
 tiful by a profusion of fiowers which filled every space 
 around the pulpit and chancel, and no blackness 
 marred the beauty of it all. The service itself, ac- 
 cording to the family's wish, was most simple. The 
 Reverend John J. Lawrence, Dr. Nichols' successor, 
 read a Scripture lesson, and also the three hymns 
 which he had repeated in his last hours, Faber's "My 
 God, how wonderful Thou art," "There is a green 
 hill far away," and "Wesley's "0 love divine, how 
 
28 MEMOIR 
 
 sweet thou art." One of the sweet singers of the 
 choir sang "I know that my Redeemer liveth," from 
 "The Messiah." Three hymns were sung by the 
 congregation. Dr. Nichols' long-time friend, the Rev- 
 erend John McVey, D.D., of Binghamton, offered 
 prayer and gave the benediction. The burial was pri- 
 vate, in Spring Forest Cemetery, in a place of his 
 own choosing, the bearers being chosen from the three 
 boards of officers of the church. In accordance with 
 the request of the Chamber of Commerce, a very great 
 token of respect was paid in the general closing of 
 places of business in the city at the time of the 
 funeral. 
 
 On the following Sunday afternoon, September 27, 
 the church was again filled for a memorial service. 
 Tender and appreciative resolutions were read from 
 the Presbytery of Binghamton and the Session and 
 Boards of Deacons and Trustees of the ch\ireh. Mr. 
 Albert B. Brown gave "A Personal Tribute to Dr. 
 Nichols," Rev. Dr. McVey "The Testimony of A 
 Long Friendship," Rev. Dr. Phillips "A Tribute of 
 A Neighboring Pastor, ' ' and Rev. Mr. Lawrence ' ' The 
 Appreciation of a Colleague," all most loving and 
 true in their memories and estimates. Memorial serv- 
 ices were held also in Immanuel Church of Milwaukee 
 and the Central Church of Denver, and resolutions 
 there adopted were sent to Dr. Nichols' family. 
 
 Below are quoted several expressions of opinion con- 
 cerning Dr. Nichols and his ministry, made at the 
 time of his death. 
 
MEMOIR 29 
 
 From the Binghamton Republican, September 18, 
 1908: 
 
 77!^ Passing of a Great Soul. 
 
 In the death of the Reverend Doctor Nichols the shadow of 
 a great grief has fallen upon this city. 
 
 Not vrithiu the memory of this generation has death smitten 
 so many hearts with a single blow. 
 
 Thousands who have sat under his ministration, whose child- 
 hood has been consecrated by his baptismal touch, whose earli- 
 est thought of Christian faith and duty has fallen from his Uf e, 
 whose conception of God's love and goodness has taken root 
 and blossomed out under his luminous teaching, whose love has 
 been crowned and blessed by him in the most sacred union and 
 relations of life, whose grief -stricken hearts have been com- 
 forted by his sympathy, tender and deep as the love of woman, 
 — all these must feel that the emblem of mourning is on their 
 own doors and the shadow in their own homes. 
 
 Action of the Binghamton Chamber of Commerce, 
 September 19, 1908 : 
 
 "Inasmuch as the Eev. Dr. G. Parsons Nichols, who passed 
 into his rest on Thursday, September 17, was for over a 
 quarter of a century so closely allied and prominently identified 
 with the civic and spiritual growth of Binghamton, the city 
 which he deeply loved, and in view of the fact that his benign 
 and powerful influence extended beyond the confines of his 
 parish and spread broadcast throughout our city, the Bingham- 
 ton Chamber of Commerce recommends and respectfully asks 
 that the places of business in the city close on Monday, Sep- 
 tember 21, at four o'clock, for the day, as a mark of esteem 
 and respect to the memory of one who was dearly beloved and 
 revered by the community at large, and as an evidence of ap- 
 preciation of the widespread good which he, in his lifetime 
 among us, dispensed in a boundless manner, irrespective of 
 creed, denomination, commercial or social standing." 
 
 William H. Hecox, President, 
 Byres H. Gitohell, Secretary. 
 
30 MEMOIR 
 
 Words of Mr. Justice George F. Lyon, of the Su- 
 preme Court of New Tork, in adjourning court at the 
 Court House in Binghamton at noon on the day of 
 the funeral: 
 
 "A great sorrow has befallen our community. Eev. Dr. 
 Nichols, who for a quarter of a century has ministered among 
 us, has passed from the earthly life to the life immortal. Of 
 broad and brilliant intellect, eloquent, forceful, courageous, 
 courteous, tactful, sympathetic, of great personal charm and 
 magnetism, yet he possessed aU the tenderness, and trustful- 
 ness, and simplicity of a child. The broad influence for good 
 of such a consecrated life cannot be well measured. A lover 
 of truth and justice, his voice was ever given to upholding the 
 courts in the just and impartial administration of the law. At 
 the end, a noble Christian life was crowned by a beautiful 
 Christian death. 
 
 "It is the desire of the Court, and of many of the attorneys 
 and jurors in attendance, to be present at the funeral services 
 which are to be held at the Mrst Presbyterian Church at four 
 o 'clock this afternoon. In order to permit such attendance, and 
 out of respect for the memory of the good man, the afternoon 
 session of this Court will close at half -past three o 'clock, and an 
 adjournment will be taken until half -past nine o'clock to-mor- 
 row morning." 
 
 From the Binghamton Bepuhlican^ September 22, 
 1908: 
 
 Honoring Binghamton. 
 The tribute paid to the memory of Dr. Nichols yesterday by 
 the people of this city, by the closing of business houses and 
 courts and by the immense audience which gathered to offer 
 their silent and often tearful testimony of love and veneration, 
 is something that must give every one in this city a deep sense 
 of civic pride. It shows how nobly this community will respond 
 to the very highest and best in human character and example — 
 how keenly appreciative it is of the most spiritual teaching and 
 
MEMOIR 31 
 
 the noblest ideals of life. It has therefore quite unconsciously 
 honored itself in honoring one who was conspicuously the em- 
 bodiment of those rare qualities which enrich the character 
 along spiritual lines and lift it into a saintly atmosphere. 
 
 Here was a man who won no distinction in spectacular fields 
 appealing to the imagination, no honor in public achievement; 
 unheralded by the "trumpet that sounds of fame"; a simple 
 teacher who taught, and lived as he taught, the fatherhood of 
 God, the fellowship of Christ, the brotherhood of man, the 
 exceeding beauty of truth and honor and righteousness. And 
 as he taught from year to year his range of spiritual vision 
 seemed to enlarge until it became ahnost prophetic; the spirit 
 of Christ grew up ^dthin him, strong, resolute, yet full of the 
 deepest love and sympathy — ^the noble courage of Paul and 
 Peter blended with the sweetness and tenderness of the Beloved 
 Disciple. 
 
 And yet this modest, child-like, Christ-like teacher Bingham- 
 ton is honoring with speech and pen, with bowed heads, heart- 
 ache and tears, as it has honored no other citizen within the 
 memory of living men. It is well to live in a town that is thus 
 mindful of the noblest in human character and the ' ' Greatest 
 Thing in the World." 
 
 Extracts from an appreciation of Dr. Nichols' 
 preaching, written by one long a member of his 
 church, printed in the Binghamton Press, September 
 21, 1908 : 
 
 The active ministry of G. Parsons Nichols marks an epoch 
 in the spiritual and intellectual life of this community. Com- 
 ing here in the fullness of his powers he gave to his church 
 and city the choicest results of an ample endowment and ade- 
 quate preparation. He had scholarship, not specialization. 
 His reading in the English classics had been wide and sympa- 
 thetic. He had mastered the art of public speaking and the 
 display of its range and power, on occasion, became a matter 
 of civic pride. No great public function was complete unless 
 "Doctor Nichols" were present. 
 
32 MEMOIR 
 
 When at hiai best Dr. Nichols was entitled to be called a 
 great preacher. There was that fusion of intellect and emotion, 
 logic and imagination, facts and vision possessed by only the 
 great preachers. At such times he seemed to "see face to 
 face" and spoke with fervor, with dramatic force, with flam- 
 ing intensity of conviction, with vidnning persuasiveness. His 
 "river of speech" carried everything before it. 
 
 Year in and year out he made his pulpit a commanding 
 height. Year in and year out, while time was placing upon his 
 head the crown of glory, he stood in his pulpit. It was well- 
 balanced and proportioned, edifying, satisfying preaching. It 
 had the finish of the written discourse and the fervor of 
 the extempore. It appealed to both heart and intellect. It 
 had range and sympathy. The preacher drew from books, na- 
 ture, the everyday, and put upon it all the glow of imagination 
 and the interpretation of the spirit. 
 
 He did not preach a denominational gospel. His creed was 
 as broad as "I believe in the Holy Catholic Church." So 
 men of every creed, and men of no creed found in his preaching 
 health and help. 
 
 Because he never slighted a small occasion, Dr. Nichols was 
 the master of the "great" occasion. He not only seized, but 
 expanded his opportunity. With perfect taste and flawless tact 
 he had the artistic temperament. He knew the value of a 
 shading, an inflection, a gesture, a pause. He was master of 
 the noblest of the arts — the art of public speaking, and he put 
 it to a noble use. " 
 
 Extracts from, an estimate of Dr. Nichols' preach- 
 ing, written by a former associate in the ministry of 
 the First Church : 
 
 " His sermons were always logical in the sequence of 
 
 thought, and convincing in argument — satisfying the reason- 
 faculty of the keenest mind among his auditors; yet the style 
 was not argumentative. The appeal was to the whole nature 
 of the hearer, not to his reason alone. For example, the writer 
 remembers an Easter Day sermon which seemed absolutely ir- 
 
MEMOIR 33 
 
 refutable in its argument for the resurrection of Christ; but 
 the final impression which one carried away was not the prov- 
 ing of the resurrection, but the glory which that event casts 
 over aU human life, and the thrilling appeal which the fact of 
 
 immortality makes to a man 's best nature 
 
 But the crowning quality of his preaching was the glowing 
 eloquence of the preacher. It was the eloquence of a great 
 mind and a great heart set on fire by great ethical and spiritual 
 convictions, and giving expression to these convictions with rare 
 oratorical art. Possessed of a noble presence, a musical voice, 
 and extraordinary natural dramatic power. Dr. Nichols con- 
 secrated these talents to his high vocation, and used them with 
 an efifeotivenesB which is seldom seen in the modern pulpit. ' ' 
 
Sermons 
 
THE PEECIOUSNESS OF GOD'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 "How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God!" 
 Psalm 139: 17. 
 
 We have for our morning meditation, my friends, 
 the 17th verse of the 139th Psalm. "How precious 
 also are thy thoughts unto me, God!" These are 
 great words surely. Great and mysteriously beautiful 
 would they be even though they contained no fiu-ther 
 depths of meaning than they seem to have upon the 
 surface. They seem to be the words of a man to 
 whom it has become known not only that God is — ^but 
 also that God is thinking upon him. The Psalmist has 
 gotten hold of the fact, and is deeply impressed by it, 
 that his life, finite and insignificant as it is, is somehow 
 involved in the thinkings and plannings of the Infinite 
 and Eternal. He catches sight of God's thoughts reach- 
 ing down like invisible hands lifting him up and away 
 into their eternal order and placing him among the 
 mysteries of the infinite mind. 
 
 But I hinted at a latency, at concealments of mean- 
 ing somewhere in the passage. They are in the word 
 "thoughts." "How precious are thy thoughts unto 
 me, God." There are two kinds of thoughts one 
 may have for a person, head thoughts and heart 
 thoughts, thoughts that are perceptions, observations, 
 judgments, and thoughts that are cares, affections. 
 
 Preaehea in the First Presbyterian Church, Blnghamton, 1883, 
 1S»1, I90e». 
 
 37 
 
38 PRECIOUSNESS OF GOD'S THOUGHTS 
 
 sympathies. You are sitting in a railway carriage when 
 a stranger enters and takes the seat opposite. You 
 observe the expression of his face, you notice his gen- 
 eral appearance and perhaps fall to speculating about 
 his character, business and residence. Until some- 
 thing else diverts your attention, he continues, it may 
 be, the subject of your thoughts. 
 
 But now suppose that beside you ia the carriage 
 is also one with whom your heart is closely bound 
 up, a dearly loved wife for instance. Ever conscious 
 of her presence, anticipating her every want, reading 
 her mind in inquiring and answering looks of love, 
 how unlike your thoughts for her and your thoughts 
 for the stranger! Your thoughts for the stranger 
 are mere glances of the tmderstanding which fall 
 upon their object at a distance without ever admitting 
 him into the real secret of your presence and interest, 
 and soon dismiss him altogether. But your thoughts 
 for the loved one by your side are outgoings of your 
 deepest nature which, drawn to their object by the 
 affinities of love, bring her into the mind's inmost 
 abode and keep her there. 
 
 Now these two kinds of thoughts, thoughts of the 
 head and thoughts of the heart, which we find in our- 
 selves, the Bible teaches us to find in God. God has a 
 twofold sphere in thinking, a sphere within a sphere. 
 First there is the sphere of His omniscience. God is 
 a clear sleepless eye, never clouded, never dazzled, 
 never escaped. His look is upon absolutely every 
 point in creation. From the invisible clod beneath 
 
PRECIOUSNESS OF GOD'S THOUGHTS 39 
 
 our feet up to the seraph that bums nearest the 
 throne, all is under His unbroken glance. And God 
 reads down into the core. Like the watchmaker's look 
 into the open watch is His glance into the secrets of 
 the solid globe, into the secrets of the sea below and 
 space above, into the secrets of the soul and life of 
 man. God's eye, God's mind takes in everything in 
 the wide universe and much that was never in it and 
 perhaps never will be in it. God knows what might 
 be as well as what is, the possible as well as the actual. 
 
 This is the outer sphere of God's thoughts, the 
 thoughts which His universal knowledge gives Him. 
 It is a prodigious range. Our arts, sciences, litera- 
 tures, philosophies, are mere explorations into the 
 fringe and border of it — so many spoonfuls dipped 
 up from the sea of His thoughts. Our astronomies, 
 geologies, chemistries, biologies are feeble guesses at 
 a few of His ideas about creation. So are our sciences 
 of measurement and engineering, of His plans of con- 
 struction. Our intellectual philosophies and psy- 
 chologies are shadows dim and grotesque like sil- 
 houette faces of His thoughts about the human mind. 
 In no department of knowledge have we more than 
 a few letters of its alphabet by which we spell out 
 some small words, misspell many more, while the 
 great work of its description lies like a sealed book all 
 unread and unimagined before us. 
 
 There is something wonderful in the thought which 
 James Martineau has expressed, that the hidden 
 things which we slowly discover, the new and marveU- 
 
40 PRECIOUSNESS OF GOD'S THOUGHTS 
 
 OTIS inventions which year by year are gradually 
 brought to the light, like the loconiotive, the telegraph 
 and the telephone, have all been present to the mind 
 of God from the beginning, "that the secrets for which 
 ages pine and sigh lie clear within His vision close 
 at hand, that in every observatory where the patience 
 of many a generation has grown gray there is an Eye 
 that sweeps beyonds the field of the strongest tele- 
 scope, in every chamber of study a Reason where no 
 darkness is, in every library a living mind of whose 
 forethought all that pomp and love of science is but 
 the imperfect afterthought." 
 
 But without delaying longer here, far within this 
 outer circle of God's mind is another deeper region 
 of thinkings, of which the most partial view has for 
 every one of us a value and comfort greater than 
 the entire comprehension, if that were possible, of 
 all other knowledge whatsoever. It is the region of 
 God's will and heart. Love thinks as well as intel- 
 lect. Love distinguishes, recognizes, remembers, fore- 
 sees. Love has its intuitions, its solicitudes, its plan- 
 niugs, its provisions. God's love makes a complete 
 sphere of thoughts of its own, thoughts which stand 
 out, or rather stand in from the great mass of His 
 universal knowledge. God communes with Himself 
 about the little child, about the earnest seeker after 
 light, about the penitent confessor, about the faithful 
 toiler, about the suffering dying martyr, as He com- 
 munes about no other earthly objects. 
 
 "His eye seeth every precious thing. His percep- 
 
PRECIOUSNESS OF GOD'S THOUGHTS 41 
 
 tion singles out the jewels of the -universe and like 
 the telescope passes rapidly over darkness and blank 
 spaces and pitches searchingly on stars." He does 
 not have to look out and see His especial objects on 
 the earth where they visibly are. He looks within 
 and finds them ia His own bosom where they really 
 are. And His thoughts for them do not rise so much 
 from what He sees in them as from what He feels in 
 Himself for them. The thoughts of knowledge are ac- 
 quired, the thoughts of love are self generated. So 
 it is not said that God saw Noah shut up in the Ark, 
 but God remembered Noah, as if the thought came 
 from withiu instead of without. So God saw Moses 
 in the ark of rushes, Joseph in the prison, Jeremiah 
 in the dungeon and Daniel in the den of lions, by look- 
 ing into the secret of His own Presence. And so the 
 heaven-taught prayer of the penitent thief was not, 
 "Lord, behold me," but, "Lord, remember me when 
 thou comest in thy kingdom." "Go not out into the 
 wide field of Thine omniscience on that great day, 
 but go down into the secret of Thine own loving 
 memories of me." 
 
 It was the contents of the inner sphere of the Di- 
 vine Miud which the Psalmist had before him when 
 he wrote, "How precious are thy thoughts unto me, 
 God." This is evident from the peculiar word he 
 uses. Had there been such a word the translation would 
 have hit his meaning exactly by saying, "How pre- 
 cious are thy earings for me, God." Explain it he 
 could not, deserve it he knew he did not, but he be- 
 
42 PRECIOUSNBSS OF GOD'S THOUGHTS 
 
 lieved the divine assurance that he was hidden in the 
 secret place of the Most High. how good and beauti- 
 ful it seemed to him to be there ! How strong and secure 
 and happy it made him ! It took all fear and anxiety 
 away and made him like one who walks with a greater 
 and mightier than himself. He felt it was greatness 
 enough and blessedness enough just to be in God's 
 mind and to have God's thoughts encircling, enwrap- 
 ping and supporting him. 
 
 "How precious are thoughts imto me, God!" 
 God's thoughts are precious in the first place because 
 they are His thoughts and not a man's. Not that I 
 think it would be no blessing to be in a human mind 
 in the deep sense of the Psalmist. For my part I 
 should hold it one of the highest privileges of my life 
 to have a really great and good man, one whom I 
 deeply revered and trusted, an Isaiah, a St. John, a 
 Fenelon, a Madam Guyon, it seems to me that it 
 would be one of the richest blessings of existence to 
 have such a person draw near to me each day and 
 surround me with his thoughts and draw me into the 
 secret of his presence and communion. But now what 
 if instead of the great prophet or the beloved disciple, 
 it be the Lord God Himself who comes to me in all 
 the incommunicable beauty and unstinted blessedness 
 of His attributes of glory, and puts His thoughts 
 upon me as the atmosphere in which I live and move ? 
 Will it not be as if a great thick door were shut 
 around me, and all the perils of life and tumults of 
 existence and adverse circumstances were outside? 
 
PRBCIOUSNESS OF GOD'S THOUGHTS 43 
 
 I was reading the other day of a missionary ia 
 Eastern Africa, not a great man, but a man completely 
 hidden in the Divine Presence, who visited a village 
 where a ranging lion was the unresisted terror of all 
 the people. It could not be the will of God, so the 
 missionary reasoned, that this beast should lord it 
 over His children. So he went out and pitched his tent 
 in the thick jungle, and when night came he went out 
 and lay down to sleep as unconcerned as if he were in 
 his own house. In the middle of the night he was 
 awakened by the sound of the lion's paw rending the 
 earth at the open door and his terrific roar shaking 
 the tent. He arose, took his gun and shot the beast, 
 and lay down again as quietly as though he were 
 doing some Christian work out there. 
 
 With this same confidence he who is hidden in God's 
 thoughts walks among spiritual lions. God's thoughts 
 reach down into the inner man. They act on the soul, 
 the mind, the heart, and have power to quell the 
 strongest passions that rage in the human breast. 
 Man thinks and thinks again, and nothing comes of 
 it. But God's thoughts are infinite dynamos. God 
 once thought upon that which was not, and this glori- 
 ous world with all its countless forms of life and 
 beauty burst out of nothingness into being. God once 
 thought upon the lives and sorrows of a fallen race, 
 and the Son of the Highest became man, died on the 
 Cross and took away the sins of the world. God 
 thinks upon us and all His living creatures every mo- 
 ment, and we are preserved in being and sustained in 
 
44 PRECIOUSNESS OF GOD'S THOUGHTS 
 
 the use of all our complex faculties and powers. One 
 day God will think upon the dead, and aU who are 
 in their graves will feel the omnipotence of His 
 thought and come forth, they that have done good 
 unto the resurrection of life and they that have done 
 evil unto the resurrection of condemnation. All our 
 strength, dear friends, strength of body and strength 
 of mind, strength to think and strength to speak, 
 strength to resist and strength to suffer, strength of 
 enthusiasm and strength of patience, strength in public 
 and strength in solitude, all our forms of strength 
 and beauty and happiness are simply God's thoughts 
 upon us. 
 
 It seems to me another element of preciousness in 
 God's thoughts for us is that they are for each one 
 of us separately and personally. They are His 
 thoughts for you and you and me. It is not so with 
 our minds. We lose hold of the individual in trying 
 to take in large numbers. We have to generalize and 
 to plan and think and pray for them in classes, as the 
 young, the aged, the poor, the sick, the unsaved, the 
 penitent. But God thinks about His millions of chil- 
 dren as we think about our families, making each one 
 of us the object of a separate knowledge and a sepa- 
 rate feeling. In God's mind each one of us has a 
 place of his own, each of us is thought of by him- 
 self, each of us is called by name. God remembers 
 Noah, calls Abraham, speaks to Moses, communes with 
 David. "Go tell my disciples and Peter," said the 
 newly risen Jesus. Spoke the Lord in a vision to 
 
PRECIOUSNESS OF GOD'S THOUGHTS 45 
 
 Ananias, "Arise and go into the street called Straight 
 and inquire ia the house of Judas for one called Saul 
 of Tarsus for behold he prayeth." He singles out 
 Binghamton streets and names as well as these ia His 
 thinkings and dispatchings. So there is an exclusive- 
 ness in God's love. You have one hiding-place in 
 His presence and I have another. There are secret 
 transactions between Him and each one of you that 
 I shall never know. There is a door in His Presence 
 no one can enter but thyself. There is a veil in His 
 thought which thou only canst penetrate. And for 
 this thou wert created, to bring forth the hidden riches 
 of grace in thy secret place to the glory of God and 
 man's blessing. 
 
 I feel this ought to mean a great deal in strengthen- 
 ing our personality, and enabling us to stand erect 
 and disregard people's criticisms. My friends, some 
 of us are pretty weak. We can hardly bear anything 
 said against our faith, our religion, our Saviour, with- 
 out shrinking under it. "We are sensitive as snails 
 out of their shells. Let anyone sneer at the Church, 
 laugh at the Bible, toss off some skeptical smartness 
 about our piety and we are stung and ready to run 
 away outwardly and inwardly. What we want is 
 strength of personality. We want the feeling of 
 God's thoughts about us, lifting us up in confidence 
 and courage. Let the blessed truth that God knows 
 you separately, loves you separately, calls you to 
 live a life of separate fellowship with Him and sepa- 
 rate responsibility in the world, let this fact take 
 
46 PRBCIOUSNESS OP GOD'S THOUGHTS 
 
 full possession of your mind and heart, and your 
 oversensitiveness will pass away and you wiU care 
 no more about people's criticisms than about the 
 winds that blow. 
 
 Passing now from God's thoughts as they exist in 
 His mind, I should like to look at some of the forms 
 of expression which they take in coming to us. All 
 around us are these expressions. The new-bom light 
 streaming up from the reddening Bast, the golden 
 haze of autumn noonday, the fair valleys sleeping in 
 the deepening shadows of the afternoon, the fiery 
 splendors of the setting sun and the starry midnight 
 skies are God's thoughts of beauty and glory. The 
 immovable hills, lofty mountains, rocky promontories 
 and round ocean are His thoughts of grandeur and 
 impregnable strength. The sun, the falling rain, and 
 waving harvests are His thoughts of goodness and rich 
 beneficence. The tender leaf, the scented blossom, the 
 painted butterfly, the crystalline snowflake and ex- 
 quisite frost flowers are His thoughts of minute at- 
 tention and delicate skill. 
 
 Then our occupations, our homes, our social rela- 
 tionships, our studies and books, with all that gladdens 
 and inspires our lives, what are they but expressions 
 of God's thoughts for us? Boatmen gliding down 
 the stream in the deepening twilight and leaning over 
 the sides of their boat may seem to see underneath 
 them an expanse of tenderest blue studded with 
 sparkling gems, and river banks overhung with trees 
 clothed like those St. John saw, with leaves and fruits 
 
PEBCIOUSNBSS OF GOD'S THOUGHTS 47 
 
 of more than earthly quality ; seem to see this beneath 
 them, but the realities of all these reflected glories 
 are above them. And so, my friends, above us are 
 the truth and purity, the trust and love and devotion 
 which we seem to see in the hearts which bear us up 
 by their strength and sympathy. These human sup- 
 ports and comforts, these dear faces which greet us 
 after absence and lend a sunlight to our dreams, are 
 nothing more or less than reflections of God's thoughts 
 for us. 
 
 We begin with God's thoughts in nature, where 
 many an one, like Mimgo Park bending over the 
 forget-me-not in the African desert, has strangely 
 felt the invisible Presence about him. But I have 
 something more to tell you. In this blessed Book 
 open to every one of us God has poured His thoughts 
 and carings for you and me into human speech. 
 Greater wonder still. He has poured His thinking 
 and caring mind into human flesh. God has uttered 
 Himself. Jesus Christ is the "Word, the expression 
 of the Godhead. The Cross is the pierced Heart of 
 Heaven. All the fulness of God's thoughts and feel- 
 ings for us are in the Lord Jesus Christ. And He is 
 ours to draw near to and to confide in, ours to ac- 
 knowledge as our own and to be confessed as His own, 
 ours to cast our sins upon Him and to put on His 
 righteousness, ours to belong to Him and to follow 
 after Him, ours to become like Him and to be with 
 Him where He is. And so by thinking on us God has 
 not only lifted us up into His bosom but He has Him- 
 
48 PRBCIOUSNESS OF GOD'S THOUGHTS 
 
 self come down into our bosom, He in us and we in 
 Him, so to exist ever more. 
 
 Think of it, bretlu-en, realize it. Having received 
 Christ into your hearts, you are in the bosom of the 
 Father. You are among the deep thiags of God. 
 Omniscience, almightiness, immensity, eternity, stand 
 around you like the mountains around about Jerusa- 
 lem. Truth and love and righteousness cover you. 
 Under the shelter of these greatnesses you are in His 
 miud like vessels riding at anchor in a cliff-enclosed 
 harbor. What matters that you have come in wrecks 
 split upon fatal rocks and with sails torn by fierce 
 winds? Here is caring for the most wounded and 
 wasted life, to grow into strength and beauty again. 
 "Will you not be glad and gratefully sing with a 
 Hindoo Christian poetess, 
 
 "In the secret of His Presence, how my soul delights to hide! 
 Ah, how hallowed are the lessons that I learn at Jesus' 
 side!"? 
 
 Here I draw to a close. Can we not, my friends, 
 rise up from our sittings and go forth from the sanctu- 
 ary this morning with new peace on our faces and 
 new freedom in our hearts from the world's prizes 
 and eagerly coveted plaudits? Does it not seem 
 strangely unworthy of those upon whom are fastened 
 the look and thought of Him who is above aU, to 
 be seeking their good in the look and thought of others 
 no better than themselves, powerless either to bless 
 or curse? To be eager for places of distinction, to 
 covet this or that mode of life, to pine for admission 
 
PEEOIOUSNESS OF GOD'S THOUGHTS 49 
 
 into circles of fashion, to have the heart set upon 
 splendid settlements and splendid establishments, to 
 be self-conscious and self-complacent, proud and deli- 
 cate and querulous, having the eyes toward the world 
 as the eyes of a maid are toward her mistress, brethren, 
 are these things for God's children? And in the end 
 when flesh and heart fail, will it be anything to the 
 soul that she has all these, but has His loving thought 
 upon her no more ? "I have lived for the world and 
 I have lost it," were the twice repeated words of a 
 dying man. It must be the awful thought at the end 
 of everyone who lives for the world. Only one thing 
 can a man keep forever — God, God and his own soul. 
 No, I am in error — ^he can if he will keep sin and the 
 absence of God forever. 
 
 But again there is something here for those who 
 are stiU strangers to the reconciled love of God. I 
 look over this congregation and see one and another 
 whom I love and who I feel are in the darkness; in 
 doubt, in dispeaee, homeless and viewless they are. 
 They are trying to cheer themselves with such ob- 
 jects as are about them, but still their heart is lonely, 
 stiU their feet are slipping, still death is drawing 
 nigh. Dear souls, I long to see you shut up in the 
 secret of his Presence. I long to have his loving 
 thoughts around you now and in eternity. I long to 
 have you hidden with Christ and His holy Church in 
 God. So you shall be if you will now take up the 
 gift which God has laid at your feet, the gift of His 
 own dear Son whom He has given to you to be your 
 
50 PRECIOUSNESS OF GOD'S THOUGHTS 
 
 pardon, your purity, your peace, your pledge of 
 Heaven and assurance of everlasting life. Take Him 
 — He has waited long for you — take Him and let Him 
 who died for you be your hiditig place, and lift you 
 up from the gates of hell into the light of your 
 Father's smUe and the security of your Father's 
 thoughts. 
 
 Once more, there is something here also for those 
 who have to carry incommunicable burdens, who have 
 bodily sufferings for which sympathy may not be 
 asked, or who have perplexities of mind which they 
 cannot express to themselves, much less to others, or 
 who are filled with forebodings unbreathed because 
 their objects are sacred and cannot be exposed, or 
 who are solitary because their objects are taken away 
 and no one is left to understand, or who cherish 
 lonely heights of aspiration with none to bear them 
 company, or who enter upon paths of duty misunder- 
 stood and misinterpreted by dearest friends. Ye who 
 sit solitary in the sanctuary, is it nothing that God 
 cares for you? Is it nothing that your loneliness gives 
 you a deeper place in His mind and that through it 
 His thoughts are more often upon you? Go and un- 
 burden your heart to Him. You cannot tell your 
 troubles to man who does not know them, but you 
 can teU them to Him who knows them already and 
 weighed them before they came. Surely this is a 
 verse for you to keep much about your heart until 
 the day break and the lost are given back. "How 
 precious are thy thoughts unto me, God!" 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 "And he that overeometh, and keepeth my works unto the 
 
 end, I will ,give him the morning star." Eevelation 2: 
 
 26, 28. 
 
 Rising at an early hour one morning some time 
 ago and looking out at the window I saw a beautiful 
 sight. The sky was without a trace of cloud, a body 
 of perfect clearness delicately tinged with orange and 
 rose color. The dawn was steadily brightening into 
 day and all things seemed new, primal, promiseful. 
 The stars had already paled in the light of the near 
 approach of the effulgent king. Only the moon, now 
 in its diminishing quarter, glistened like a golden 
 crescent high upon the breast of the morning sky, 
 while a space above, flaming in the regal forehead of 
 the dawn, shone the morning star. The glory of that 
 solitary high-hanging lamp of heaven fixed my eyes 
 and streamed down into my heart. I remembered the 
 supernatural fascination which the heavenly bodies 
 once exerted over men and made them their wor- 
 shippers. I remembered the Saviour's word, "I am 
 the bright and morning star," and His mystic prom- 
 ise, "he that overeometh I will give him the 
 
 morning star." 
 
 You all know the significance of the Morning Star. 
 It is the forerunner. It is the beautiful harbinger of 
 
 Preached in the First Presbyterian Church, Binghamton, 1899. 
 
 51 
 
52 THE MORNING STAE 
 
 approaching day. It is the King's herald, bright with 
 the splendor and prediction of the presence of the 
 King himself. Just as the rainbow declares the sov- 
 ereignty of the sunshiiie over the clouds, just as the 
 first ripe fruits of autumn are an earnest of the golden 
 harvest to come, so the Morning Star is the pledge 
 of the victory of light over darkness and the bright 
 precursor of the Brightness itself. Milton describes 
 it as 
 
 "Fairest of stars, last in the train of night. 
 If better thou belong 'st not to the dawn, 
 Sure pledge of day, that crown 'st the smiling morn 
 With thy bright circlet." 
 
 I think we have aU seen persons who gave us the 
 impression of having received the Morning Star. I 
 have in mind now a man whose forehead glows as it 
 were with a strange light. He is never cast down or 
 discouraged. He is not anxious nor disquieted as 
 other men. He carries about him an assurance of suc- 
 cess, an anticipation of victory. No darkness or con- 
 fusion of the hour disheartens or disturbs him. His 
 very face like a high mountain peak seems to catch 
 the reflection of a far-off dawn. 
 
 My friends, have you not sometime met a man or 
 woman who seemed to possess a lumiaousness of 
 spirit which others had not, which you could not pre- 
 cisely define or describe, but which had the effect of 
 clothing them with wonderful assurance and making 
 them strangely serene, self-poised, confident of the 
 future? Have you not known persons who acted as 
 
THE MORNING STAR 53 
 
 ii' they had -within them a hidden fountaia of light 
 which shed its beams around them continually? In 
 this account given of a great man over his grave 
 I think you will all recognize a possessor of the Morn- 
 ing Star. "Above the changing fortunes of the cause 
 of which he was the leader, he moved as undisturbed 
 as the stars in their orbits. He was never elated by 
 success, never disheartened by temporary disaster and 
 failure. 0? ultimate success he was always certain." 
 
 Biographers of Abraham Lincoln teU us of a mys- 
 teiy in the man which no one could explain — a kind 
 of higher vision which in the darkest hours of the civil 
 war made him act as if he saw a light others could 
 not see, and had bread to eat which others knew 
 not of. Was it not the possession of the Morning Star 
 which enabled the great President to hold up his head 
 in the dark day? "And he that overcometh, and 
 keepeth my works unto the end, to him will I give 
 
 power over the nations and I will give him the 
 
 morning star." The Lord Jesus Christ, the King 
 of heaven, who is always giving something of Himself 
 to those who love and obey Him, and who names Him- 
 self the Bright and Morning Star, here promises to 
 bestow some of His light-possessing power and radi- 
 ancy upon His faithful and persevering followers. 
 "Follow on," He says to those who are resisting sin 
 and striving earnestly to conform themselves in every- 
 thing to His wiU and example, "follow on and faint 
 not, and I will give you some of My light in which 
 you shall see light and possess light and be yourselves 
 
54 THE MORNING STAR 
 
 radiant forerunners of tlie everlasting dawn. I will 
 give you the Morning Star." 
 
 My friends, I do not bring this wonderful promise 
 to you this morning because I seem to comprehend 
 all its meaning and think I can lead you to the end 
 of it. I seem to myself like one standing at the 
 entrance of a glorious pathway, who sees but a few 
 steps into it, but who wishes to advance far as he sees 
 that he may see more and advance farther. The gift 
 of the Morning Star seems to me first of all a gift of 
 knowledge. Not that knowledge which consists in the 
 mere accumulation of facts or the study of phe- 
 nomena. How much knowledge there is that does not 
 enlighten its possessor or any one else! How many 
 students, accurate laborious painstaking students, 
 spend their strength upon the surfaces of things with- 
 out ever penetrating their inner essential radiancy, 
 and are really more like meadow moles than like morn- 
 ing stars ! 
 
 To know a thing you must not only see the thing 
 itself, but you must see it in the light of the larger 
 truth that surrounds it and interprets it. You are 
 standing before a great painting. You admire the 
 gracefulness of the figures, the naturalness of their 
 attitudes, the depth and richness of the coloring, and 
 go away without knowing anything of the author, the 
 history or the purpose of the picture. Some time after 
 you meet the artist and become intimately acquainted 
 with him. One day he lets you into the knowledge of 
 his thought and purpose in painting that picture. 
 
THE MORNING STAR 55 
 
 What a revelation ! "What a different thing that pic- 
 ture seems now ! You see it as you never saw it he- 
 fore. You see it in the light of its creator and its 
 creator's purpose. Yon observe a woman goiag from 
 one great man's house to another's interceding for 
 someone or something you know not what. A most 
 iminteresting sight ! How dull and dreary seems her 
 lot ! But you are told that that woman is the wife of 
 a man who after being tried and condemned and de- 
 graded and imprisoned for a crime he never com- 
 mitted has been tried and condemned a second time, 
 and that the devoted woman is expending every 
 energy she possesses to secure his pardon. And now 
 looking at her in the light of her intense inextinguish- 
 able love for her martyr husband, how beautiful the 
 woman appears ! Her face glows like a star. Every 
 detail of her effort and experience flashes a radiance 
 from it. 
 
 My friends, there is a light which surrounds all 
 things, puts them in their own true light and inter- 
 prets them. It is the light of the knowledge of God. 
 "In thy light," says the Psalmist, "we see light." 
 True, profoundly true. He who stands in the light of 
 God sees all things, the events of the world around, 
 the events of his own inner experience also, in their 
 own deeper light. If you will think how Jesus saw 
 things here on earth you will understand exactly what 
 I mean. He saw all things in the light of His Father, 
 saw the heavens in the light of His Father's creating 
 thought, saw the lilies of the field in the light of His 
 
56 THE MORNING STAR 
 
 Father's loving care for the least of His creatures, saw 
 the world of sinning men in the light of His Father's 
 pity and desire, saw His own life, death too, in the 
 light of His Father's will and wish. All this dark 
 world Jesus saw as a Son in His Father's House. 
 He was thus the Bright and Morning Star to the other 
 sons and thus He gives the Morning Star to those 
 who love and obey Him. 
 
 Secondly, the Morning Star is a gift of power and 
 leadership. As a man sees so is he. His vision is the 
 measure of his power. He who sees only what is near 
 by must always be weak, timid, anxious. He whose 
 vision reaches on and takes in what is far off is strong 
 and moves freely and powerfully. What a difference 
 between a man who is always looking aroiuid him 
 and studying the immediate consequences of his words 
 and actions in the faces of his fellow men, and a man 
 who is always looking up and acting in the light of 
 the face of eternal truth and righteousness! One 
 creeps on the ground and grovels in the fear of man, 
 which is always before his eyes; the other stands up 
 confidently, moves forward with the whole force of 
 his nature and sees already the light of ultimate vic- 
 tory in his course. This is the very secret of the 
 world's great leaders, in the Bible and out of it. 
 Moses, David, Paul, Luther, Knox, Cromwell, Wash- 
 ington, Garibaldi, General Gordon, you have only to 
 glance at these commanding spirits to recognize the 
 prevision of victory on their foreheads. They antici- 
 
THE MORNING STAR 57 
 
 pated the triumph of their cause. They were con- 
 querors while they fought. 
 
 "They viewed the triumph from afar, 
 They seized it with their eye." 
 
 They had the Momirig Star. 
 
 It was this which also drew men to them and gave 
 them their sovereignty over others. Men believed 
 them and followed them whithersoever they led be- 
 cause they felt that their eyes were on high and that 
 they knew whither they were going. "We need such 
 leaders now. "We need in the state men who look at 
 questions of public concern in the light not of current 
 opinion and the passing day, but of eternal issues. 
 We need in the Church men whose minds are lifted 
 up into the sweep of God's omnipotent purposes, men 
 with spiritual vision so clarified and intensified that 
 like St. Stephen they pierce through the confusions 
 of the hour far into the heavens and see Jesus crowned 
 with glory and power. O, how strong, how uncon- 
 querable it makes even the youngest and humblest 
 sotd to receive the Morning Star! The spirit of the 
 heavenly vision gives birth to power, to confidence, to 
 calmness. 
 
 Thirdly the Morniag Star is a gift of inspiration 
 in the work of life. We have read of men who have 
 wrought their common daily tasks va the light of 
 God's face and for the glory of God's name. We 
 have read of stone masons whose chisels sang and 
 whose hammers rang the praises of God as truly as 
 
58 THE MORNING STAR 
 
 the choirs of heaven. We have read of house servants 
 who have swept rooms, scoured pots and kettles and 
 done all drudgery, as it is called, with holy fervor as 
 a service to God and their Saviour. My friends, can 
 life's work in this end of the nineteenth century be 
 done divinely still? Is it possible for laboring men 
 to be kings and priests unto God and for us all to do 
 this work of life not chiefly to men but to Him who sits 
 there on the throne ? Certainly it is possible. It needs 
 only the gift of the Morning Star, the vision of the 
 larger light of God upon it, to make all honest labor 
 divine and lift the whole work of life into a sacred 
 liturgy. 
 
 But this is not what I set out to say. I was about 
 to speak of the way in which the possessor of the 
 Morning Star is inspired to Christian work. He sees 
 not only God, but man in the light of God. He walks 
 the crowded streets, and the men and women he meets 
 appear to him not as they actually are, subject of 
 ambitions and appetites, but as they are ideally in the 
 redeeming thought and desire of God. He recog- 
 nizes the possible angel in every face he sees, the 
 hidden image of God in every breast. As his mind 
 expands to the conception of the value of men's souls 
 so his heart kindles with desire for them. He looks 
 upon his congregation, upon his Sunday-school class, 
 upon his sons and daughters, upon his friends and 
 neighbors, not as so many persons whom he knows 
 all about, but as immortal spirits whose life passes 
 hmnan comprehension, who are known only to Him 
 
THE MORNINa STAR 59 
 
 wlio created them and died for them. Do you wonder 
 that a great enthusiasm for souls springs up within 
 him and becomes the over-mastering motive and de- 
 sire of his life ? 
 
 Again, the Morning Star is a gift of consolation. 
 My friends, life is full of trial, full of darkness. 
 Mornings bright with promise are turned into noon- 
 days and afternoons of clouds and storm. In the lives 
 of all of us come moments when only one Voice can 
 speak to us, and not even that is always heard at first. 
 Moments in the experience of long-continued pain and 
 physical agony, moments of depression in the cease- 
 less struggle with indwelling sin, moments of discour- 
 agement over the lost accumulations of years, moments 
 of unavailing regret over real or imagined mistakes, 
 moments in the waking hours of the lonely night, in 
 the deepening shadows of the dark valley on the sick- 
 bed, in the breaking heart-chords of love's last embrace 
 of love, in the sad return from the freshly covered 
 grave to the empty home. " 'I wiU give him the 
 morning star.' He shall look down and roam in the 
 dark narrow circle of his own thoughts and feelings 
 no more. He shall Lift his eyes on high and see his 
 sorrow in the larger light of My great and gracious 
 purpose in it. He shall see that his way was not 
 hidden for one moment from My eyes or passed over 
 by My care. He shall feel what was dark to him is 
 all light to Me and what is bitter now wiU be sweet 
 by and by. He shall know Me as only those who have 
 suffered can know Me, in My chastening, purifying 
 
60 THE MORNING STAR 
 
 love, and he shall fiiid out of his own blessed experi- 
 ence that aU things do indeed work together for the 
 good, the eternal good of them that love God." 
 
 Once more, the Morning Star is the gift of the hope 
 of a blessed immortality. If Christ has given us the 
 star that leads up to the morning He will not with- 
 hold the daybreak itself. Having given the pledge 
 He wiU bring in the fulfillment. He who cannot de- 
 ceive and cannot do anything imperfectly will never 
 leave those to whom He has given the Morning Star 
 in darkness or suffer His holy ones to see corruption. 
 This is the old argument for immortality in a new 
 form. The old argument was, immortality exists as 
 an idea, an instinct in every man's mind; therefore 
 immortality must be a fact. The shadow proves the 
 substance. The thirst proves the fountain. ""We 
 wish for immortality," says Frederic Robertson, "the 
 thought of annihilation is horrible. The wish is a 
 kind of argument. It is not likely that God would 
 have given all men such a feeling if He had not meant 
 to gratify it." 
 
 Addison puts the same argument upon the lips of 
 
 Roman Cato — 
 
 "Plato, thou reasonest well, 
 Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, 
 This longing after immortality? 
 Or whence this secret dread and inward horror 
 Of faUing into naught? "Why shrinks the soul 
 Back on herself and startles at destruction? 
 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us. 
 'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter 
 And intimates eternity to man." 
 
THE MORNING STAR 61 
 
 So the argument has stood. This is the fact now 
 added to it. Men and women who receive Jesus Christ 
 into their hearts realize at the same time an assurance 
 of immortality, and that a joyous blessed immortality 
 of communion with Him, which they never felt be- 
 fore. Brethren, to me this is the deepest, strongest, 
 most satisfyiag proof of a blessed life to come, the fact 
 that in direct proportion as we receive the Lord Jesus 
 into our thoughts and lives and become invested with 
 Him in will and purpose, in that same proportion 
 there springs up within our souls the belief and confi- 
 dence that we shall rise with Christ and be undying 
 partakers of His heavenly life and joy. I know that 
 you are so taken up with your cares and toils that 
 you do not often dwell upon the prospect of a heaven 
 with communion with God. And yet I am sure there 
 are moments when the thought passes through the 
 hearts of some of you like a song in the night, — 
 the thought of seeing all things clear, the thought of 
 being wholly and forever free from the consciousness 
 of sin, the thought of walking about pure, radiant, 
 kingly as Christ Himself, the thought of having pow- 
 ers set free and employments given you greater than 
 you have ever engaged in here, the thought of tasting 
 joys with one another, with the angels, with those 
 you have loved and lost a while, with the Master Him- 
 self, beyond aU thought we can now conceive. 
 
 One word more and I pause. The Morning Star is 
 not given to everybody. It is given to a certain dis- 
 
62 THE MOENING STAR 
 
 tinct type of character. " 'He that overcometh, and 
 
 keepeth my works unto the end I will give him 
 
 the morniag star.' He whose life is a struggle 
 towards what is spiritual and divine, a struggle often 
 bafQed but never given up, never ended, a struggle 
 continued earnestly, maintaiaed unflinchingly, unfal- 
 teringly, to life's end — ^to him I will give the Morn- 
 ing Star." 
 
 Brethren, we must hold fast. It is not enough to 
 begin well. Continuance is the test of character. 
 Fidelity is the sum of all duties. Steadfastness is the 
 greatest of aU virtues. Let me read you what one 
 has written whose battle is now over, who sings the 
 victor's song: "When we have to go on day by day 
 contending with a passionate or sluggish nature, 
 limiting the one, enkindliag the other, meeting small 
 temptations every hour so that watchfulness must 
 never be relaxed, when no sooner is one wrong deed 
 laid in the grave than another rises up so that the 
 sword of life is never in the scabbard, when we know 
 this wiU go on for years, till death comes — ^then not 
 to give way to angry weariness, not to brood over the 
 battle, but to take it frankly as it comes as part of the 
 day's work, to make of higher endeavor an inward 
 light which makes the path before us always bright, 
 to conquer the chiU of custom and the weight of com- 
 monplace and be inspired always by an inward 
 thought ; to pour into life such love of God and man 
 that all things will grow beautiful and worthy to be 
 
THE MORNING STAR 63 
 
 done, and loot forward persevering to the last, 'from 
 well to better daily self-surpast, ' this is to be faithful 
 unto death, and for these things there is the crown of 
 life." 
 
UNUSED SPICES. 
 
 ' ' Now upon the first day of the week, very early in the morn- 
 ing, they came unto the sepulchre, bringing the spices which 
 they had prepared. ' ' St. Luke 24 : 1. 
 
 I once saw in the corner of a newspaper a poet's 
 interpretation of this verse which opened it to my 
 mind as no commentary had ever done. I would like 
 to read it as being at once a revealing insight into the 
 text and a fitting introduction to what I have to say 
 upon it. 
 
 "What said the women as they bore 
 Their fragrant gifts away. 
 The spices which they did not need, 
 That Eesurreetion Day? 
 
 Did Mary gay within her heart, 
 
 'Our work hath been in vain;' 
 Or counting o'er the spices brought, 
 
 Of so much waste complain? 
 
 Not so, for though the risen Lord 
 
 Their offering did not need. 
 Not unrewarded was the love 
 
 That planned the reverent deed. 
 
 Preached in. the First Presbyterian Church, Binghamton, 1893, 
 1897: and also in these churches: Brick Presbyterian, Rochester; 
 Binghamton State Hospital for the Insane, 1893: Presbyterian, 
 Dunmore, Pa., 1893: Central Presbyterian, Rochester, 1893: First 
 Presbyterian, Buffalo, 1893: New York Avenue Presbyterian, 
 Washington, D. C, 1893: First Presbyterian, Cortland, N. Y., 1897: 
 Second Presbyterian, Seranton, 1897: Immanuel Presbyterian, Mil- 
 waukee, 1897: Central Presbyterian, Denver, 1898; Presbyterian 
 Mission, Beirut, Syria, 1899: Presbyterian, Gilbertsville, N. Y., 
 1900: First Presbyterian, Englewood, N. J., 1902: First Presby- 
 terian, Wllkes-Barre, 1903: North Presbyterian, Binghamton, 1903; 
 West Presbyterian, Binghamton, 1904. 
 
 64 
 
UNUSED SPICES 65 
 
 For thougli unused their fragrant store, 
 
 Yet well might they rejoice, 
 Since they the first who saw the Lord, 
 
 The first who heard His voice. 
 
 Sweet story, hast thou not some truth 
 
 For my impatient heart, 
 Some lesson that shall stay with me 
 
 Its comfort to impart?" 
 
 I think it has a lesson, and a very instructive lesson, 
 to teach us all. It seems to me this little incident 
 contains a deep illuminating truth, a truth which 
 throws light upon some of life's dark places, and which 
 must shine into many hearts in this congregation 
 with consoling power. 
 
 My subject is the Unused Spices of life. By un- 
 used spices I mean the unutilized gifts and graces, the 
 unapplied faculties and powers, the unrealized ideals 
 and aspirations of human souls. I mean those offer- 
 ings of love and service and devotion which seem to 
 be declined, those rich and fragrant stores of know- 
 ledge and learning, of endowment and acquisition, of 
 labor and consecration, which have been gathered and 
 prepared with the thought of honoring the Lord's 
 body, and when the time should come to use them 
 the opportunity is not given. I have in mind now one 
 whose childhood was exceedingly interesting and at- 
 tractive and whose youth was an unfolding of cor- 
 responding promise. Wordsworth's line, "Heaven 
 lies about in our infancy," had living illustration in 
 the beautiful opening of her life. She seemed to be 
 
66 UNUSED SPICES 
 
 modelled of finer clay. An exquisitely tempered spirit 
 was she, adjusted to all the graces, attuned to all the 
 harmonies of nature and art, of truth and beauty. 
 Expression, eloquent expression, came to her ia vari- 
 ous forms like a gift from heaven. She might have 
 written striking books. She might have become fam- 
 ous with pencil and brush. She might have been a 
 literaiy and social queen. But hers was a life of un- 
 used spices, unrealized visions, undeveloped capabili- 
 ties. Her days were spent ia beariug the heavy stiff 
 wooden yoke of practical necessity. Her life was a 
 hard, painful, unrelieved struggle for herself and for 
 her children with the problem "What shall we eat, 
 what shall we drink, and wherewithal shall we be 
 clothed?" 
 
 I do not mention this as anything remarkable. 
 Similar instances are rising in your minds while I 
 speak. You are thinking now of some person whose 
 lot in life seems utterly at variance with his gifts for 
 life, and the results of such variance, stifled purposes, 
 quenched ardors, unused talents, seem a precious store 
 of "spices sweet and ointments rare" brought to life's 
 work in vain. He whose heart beat in warmest sym- 
 pathy with his fellow men and who would have en- 
 tered into the widest interests and fellowships of 
 humanity is living perhaps in a solitary dug-out on 
 the plains. He is toiling with shovel and pick who 
 under other circumstances would have been a discov- 
 erer of truth and a revealer of beauty. In our shops 
 and factories are men with grimy hands and black- 
 
UNUSED SPICES 67 
 
 ened faces who with different environments might 
 have been merchant princes or poet preachers. I fre- 
 quently see before me in this sanctuary faces, wistful 
 pathetic faces, in whose revealing looks I cannot but 
 read the story of repressed aspirations and impris- 
 oned powers. Life is full of arrested development. 
 Yonder lives a young man, intelligent, keen-eyed, 
 finely educated, with his faculties all trained and 
 ready for life's use, but he is disarmed and incapaci- 
 tated for work and advancement by a crippled body. 
 "Wasting away in chambers of life-long sickness and 
 looking into these lovely summer days with eyes full 
 of the pathos of what might have been are spirits who 
 once burned with fires of enthusiasm and dreamed 
 of great achievements. 
 
 You know how the ferns unfold in the spring. 
 They first • appear with their heads curled together 
 and closely wound up on the stem like a shepherd's 
 crook. Gradually with the increasing warmth they 
 unroll themselves until at last they stand fully out- 
 spread. But now and then even in midsummer are 
 seen ferns with their highest points still rolled up. 
 And botanists say that in South America are found 
 whole species of ferns which never fully expand. 
 They unroll for a time, then stop and retain the in- 
 volution of their upper leaves to the end. Like that 
 are some lives. They unfold beautifully at first. 
 They disclose fine beginnings and kindle high expecta- 
 tions. But their blossoming is deferred. Some un- 
 
68 UNUSED SPICES 
 
 toward event befalls them. Some interrupting influ- 
 ence checks them. They never fully expand. 
 
 Allow me here to interject a thought which may 
 not at first seem sufficiently pertinent to the matter in 
 hand. Great painters say they cannot put their best 
 pictures on canvas. Musical composers teU of har- 
 monies which ravish their own souls but which they 
 cannot arrange in any score. I am sure that in me 
 are sermons better than I have ever preached or know 
 how to preach. Far within, among the deep mysteri- 
 ous chords of thought and feeling which vibrate below 
 consciousness and which seem to go out into the in- 
 finite and to be struck sometimes by fingers of the 
 other world, thence come ideas, emotions, stirrings of 
 wonderful impression to my own soul, but too vague 
 and indistinct for expression to you. This is nothing 
 peculiar in me. 
 
 Brethren, I tell you we are aU pretty small, but the 
 smallest of us is somehow overarched and horizoned 
 by the infinite and everlasting. Our minds are like 
 the earth, which is solid and demonstrable enough be- 
 neath our feet, but which above our heads stretches up 
 and widens away into infinitudes and amplitudes of 
 far fathomless mysterious sky. "We are all conscious 
 of emotions we cannot utter, thoughts we cannot ex- 
 press, powers we cannot manifest. Especially con- 
 scious of them are we at such times as our souls are 
 lifted up by some majesty of nature, some power of 
 human genius, some revelation of God. 
 
UNUSED SPICES 69 
 
 "Breakj break, break, 
 
 On thy cold gray stones, O sea! 
 And I would that my tongue could utter 
 The thoughts that arise in me." 
 
 Critics have puzzled their brains over the meanirig 
 of these lines and tried to discover the connection be- 
 tween the breaking of the ocean surges on the shore 
 and the arising of unutterable thoughts and feelings 
 in the miad of the poet-beholder. The connection 
 seems plain enough where we are now standing. It 
 is infinitude in the ocean awakening the sleeping 
 strings of the infinite in the human heart. It is deep 
 calling unto deep. "Which one of us has not felt some- 
 thing like it when gazing upon the snowy summits of 
 the everlasting mountains or standing upon the shore 
 of the deep and dark blue ocean? 
 
 "Break, break, break. 
 
 On thy cold gray stones, O seal 
 And I would that my tongue could utter 
 The thoughts that arise in me." 
 
 But now why have I mentioned this? In order to 
 show how we all carry unused spices through life. "We 
 have powers and possibilities which do not get their 
 fuU realization and manifestation in this world. "We 
 are like the ferns. "We cannot yet unfold the highest 
 points of our natures. And if the highest points of 
 our natures be the life and glory of Christ within 
 us, as they are if we are Christians, how can we 
 expect to unfold them here? But we must not antici- 
 pate our thought. 
 
70 UNUSED SPICES 
 
 Approaching the subject from another point of 
 view, consider how many persons are putting aside 
 their personal interests and devoting time, labor, 
 money to promote the interests of others and help 
 forward "the lagging causes of God. " We are always 
 remarking upon the selfishness of human nature. I 
 am impressed with the unselfishness of men and wo- 
 men. I am touched by the sight of persons who are 
 thoroughly, sincerely and unstudiedly devoting them- 
 selves to the good of others, often outside of their own 
 families. I see persons every day giving the supreme 
 place in their affections and motives to the love of 
 Christ and the things of His kingdom. Nothing is so 
 dear to them as their Master's name. They are will- 
 ing to teach, to go from house to house, to spend time, 
 to give money, to take trouble, to assume responsibil- 
 ity to do anything at any time, at any sacrifice of 
 self, for the sake of their Lord and His Church. Their 
 hearts and lives are free-wiU offerings to God and 
 mankind. 
 
 But strange as it may appear, they are not always 
 permitted to offer them. By one cause or another they 
 are prohibited from doing what they have prepared 
 themselves to do and what their hearts prompt them 
 to do. Sometimes it is want of recognition or ap- 
 preciation which holds them back. In almost every 
 community are men who after serving their brethren 
 most unselfishly both in public and private receive, 
 in place of the grateful recognition they have reason 
 to expect, nothing but the ingratitude and thankless 
 
UNUSED SPICES 71 
 
 criticism of those whoni they have sought to help. 
 It may be there are those in this church who are bring- 
 ing such unused spices to the Master's service. It may 
 be there are persons weU qualified to teach who would 
 love to have six little ones gathered around them 
 every week in the Sunday class and lead them to the 
 Good Shepherd's care, but their services are not 
 sought, their efforts are not valued. It may be there 
 are those who weep over Jerusalem like the Lord and 
 long to gather the unsaved but they are not permitted 
 to speak a word to them. 
 
 Then how many, after thoroughly furnishing them- 
 selves for life's work, are prohibited from service at 
 the very entrance of their labours by some strange 
 providence ! Just as they are about to cross the Jor- 
 dan of struggle and seize the bright prospects which 
 have long filled their eyes and swayed their souls, they 
 fall like Moses on the verge of their hopes. My most 
 intimate friend in Princeton, I think I have elsewhere 
 mentioned the fact, was a young man of gifted intel- 
 lect, rare accomplishments and wonderful singleness 
 of eye toward his Lord and Saviour. He had just 
 been inducted into the office of the Holy Ministry 
 under circumstances that betokened an eminent ca- 
 reer. "While traveling in the state of Pennsylvania 
 the railway coach in which he was the sole occupant 
 became detached from the train and plunged down an 
 embankment and he was instantly killed. How many 
 missionaries have sickened and died on their way to 
 their fields ! How many have fallen by the hand of 
 
72 UNUSED SPICES 
 
 violence almost as soon as they reached them! How 
 many precious spices have been carried to Africa and 
 China and poured out there on the ground ! 
 
 Before closing this part of my subject I would like 
 to take our thought for a moment into the very heart 
 of Christian experience. That any person can truly 
 turn to God and surrender himself into the divine 
 Hand and set about doing His works without receiv- 
 ing the conscious presence and communion of God into 
 his soul, this from many passages in the Bible and 
 from almost everything one hears in the pulpit, would 
 seem to be an impossibility. And yet I know I am 
 looking into the faces of such persons now. Here 
 are true Christians, numbers of them, who draw near 
 to God every day, but God does not seem to draw near 
 to them. They place the offering upon the altar, but 
 there is no answer by fire. They travel on in the 
 path of duty from day to day, but no divine com- 
 panion approaches them on the way to Emmaus or 
 the way to any city. They hear others speak of walk- 
 ing with God and of having a real interchange of 
 sensible communion with God and they wonder if the 
 utter lack of such experience proves that God does 
 not know them and that they have no part in His 
 salvation. Of all the unused spices of life, these of 
 the unrecognized unvisited soul waiting at the door 
 of the Father's House, unblessed and unable to go 
 away without a blessing, are the most difScult to bear 
 and to understand. Why this long exclusion from 
 God? Why this strange incompleteness of the di- 
 
UNUSED SPICES 73 
 
 vinest life? "Why this joyless nonfulfillment of the 
 soul's hoUest cravings? 
 
 Perhaps someone who is now listening to these 
 words is trembling with expectation and thinking that 
 the word for which he has looked and waited in a 
 thousand sermons is to be finally spoken in this sanc- 
 tuary this morning, and the perplexity of his life is to 
 be removed forever. Do not expect so much of any 
 man, my brother. No man can teU you all you want 
 to know. No man can reveal the mysteries which 
 God has put in His own power and reserved to Him- 
 self. But I want to turn your eyes to two or three 
 general principles which are often forgotten but which 
 seem to me divinely adapted to strengthen the faith 
 and comfort the hearts of those whose offerings ap- 
 pear to be refused. 
 
 The first of these principles is that God looks not 
 upon the deed but upon the will. Jesus saw the 
 Marys preparing their fragrant offerings and watch- 
 ing the Sabbath out "that dark and lonely day." He 
 saw their devotion rising early Sunday morning while 
 it was yet dark to fulfill their thoughts of love. The 
 thick gloaming did not hide from His eye a step of 
 their lonely path to the sepulchre. And although 
 their gifts were not needed, their love He received 
 and treasured where He keeps every precious thing. 
 He saw what they would have done and accounted it. 
 To name their offerings unused spices is really a mis- 
 nomer. They were used, used in a high mysterious 
 way that never entered their minds to conceive. 
 
74 UNUSED SPICES 
 
 ' ' Their spices rose a perfumed breath 
 Up to the Holy Place, 
 Their thought was read where is no death, 
 Where glory follows grace. 
 
 And on these spices we may read, 
 
 Through all the times and lands, 
 Heaven sees the will and not the deed. 
 
 And reckons hearts, not hands." 
 
 Yes, my brother, God reckons hearts. He counts 
 not what you have been but what you have wanted to 
 be, not what you have done but what you would have 
 done. If you have really desired to do some of God's 
 work and make your life a blessing to the world and 
 have not been permitted to fulfill your heart's wish, 
 God sees not the hindered act but the holy wish, and 
 His love fills out all that your love thought to do. If 
 you have really desired God to come into your soul 
 and draw you into the very sanctuary of divine love 
 and holiness and the blessed privilege has been with- 
 held, God considers not the separation from Him 
 which you have mourned but the communion which 
 you would have tasted and enjoyed. In a word, God 
 gives all our unavoidable failures the effect of success 
 and does for our imperfect beginnings and unfulfilled 
 designs what the master sometimes does for his pupil's 
 incomplete drawing. He fills out the meagre outline 
 and carries the faint irregular strokes up into the 
 beauty of the finished picture. There are no incom- 
 plete lives ia His sight, no unrealized visions, no un- 
 fulfilled aims. He makes all complete and sees every 
 work of man as the worker's heart devised it. 
 
UNUSED SPICES 75 
 
 There is a second principle. God regards not suc- 
 cess but character as the chief end of blessedness of 
 life. Success is a very desirable thing, my friends. 
 Success is the grateful end of labor and I do not in- 
 tend to disparage it. But success is not all. It is not 
 the great thing, at least to the worker himself. To 
 others it may be very important that you should reach 
 your noble ends and realize your high aspirations. 
 But to you there is something more important than 
 realization. Character is more important. Spiritual 
 worthiness and perfection of soul are more important. 
 The good that is put into your hands in the form of 
 success is a poor possession compared with the good 
 that goes down into your soul in the form of purified 
 desires, discipliaed powers, greatened capabilities. 
 And do you not know it, a great deal more often goes 
 down into your soul when nothing at all is put into 
 j^our hands, when your self-sacrifice for others re- 
 ceives no reward of recognition, no response of human 
 gratitude, when you are driven down for your reward 
 to the knowledge of the blessedness of self-sacrifice 
 itself, whether recognized or unrecognized, honored or 
 despised. That is character, that is likeness to the 
 Father and to the Son, and it is worth more to you 
 than all the rewards that can possibly be heaped upon 
 you. When you are struggling in obedience to Christ, 
 and without any conscious enjoyment of Him are con- 
 tinuing faithful to Him and finding your satisfac- 
 tion in doing His will though it be in darkness, then, 
 be well assured of it, you are honoring Christ more 
 
76 UNUSED SPICES 
 
 and are being perfected more in yoiir own inner spir- 
 itual being than if all your desires were fulfilled and 
 you were gazing into the visible glory of God's face. 
 Ah friends, to be true and faithful is more than to 
 accomplish. To live in the essence of religion is better 
 than to live in its rewards. To be obedient is higher 
 than to be happy. Character is nobler than success. 
 Have you not felt the truth and reality of this by the 
 presence of some beautiful character sent straight 
 from God who long ago perhaps was sitting by your 
 side in this sanctuary 1 
 
 There is another greater principle, though I cannot 
 here apply it. Not in this world but in yonder 
 Heaven of God are we to find the full completion and 
 satisfying fulfillment of our lives. Abraham left 
 everything behind him and went out from his own 
 country to possess a land which God promised to give 
 him. All he took possession of in this world was a 
 grave. Moses gave up the honors of Egypt and re- 
 fused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter for 
 the sake of leading God's people into a glorious in- 
 heritance. All he ever realized of it on earth was a 
 distant vision of it from the summit of Mount Nebo. 
 The disciples of Christ forsook their fishing boats and 
 gave up all things for the sake of sitting on thrones 
 in their Master's Kingdom. The thrones which they 
 sat upon were martyr 's flames. 
 
 Every supernatural life of man measured by its 
 fulfillments in this world is a failure. Only that 
 which is wholly of the earth finds its satisfaction in 
 
UNUSED SPICES 77 
 
 the earth. All who would live greatly and f oUow after 
 hopes of perfection and blessedness must expect to 
 attain them through present failures and disappoint- 
 ments, through empty aching hearts and weak and 
 wearied hands. 
 
 But what are these, what are aU earth's failures 
 and struggles, toils and sorrows and cares, in com- 
 parison of the blessedness of Heaven? 0, I am per- 
 suaded that with one view of the Uncreated Beauty 
 in our eyes, one feeling of the absence of all sin 
 from the soul in our consciences, one transformation 
 into the Divine Likeness on our faces, one breath 
 of that air "where work is rest and every movement 
 a song" in our breasts, and all we have endured and 
 suffered here will be swallowed up and forgotten 
 forever. Then we shall find that nothing we have 
 ever done or thought to do for the Lord has been 
 lost, and that the very failures and disappointments 
 which have seemed to hide Him from our eyes and 
 make it impossible for us to serve Him have secretly 
 prepared our eyes to behold Him and our souls 
 to serve Him always. 
 
 "For though unused their fragrant store, 
 Yet well might they rejoice, 
 Since they the first who saw the Lord 
 The first who heard His voice." 
 
IDEAL AIMS. 
 
 Fellow teachers and fellow scholars, it gives me 
 real pleasure to stand here to-night, for I will not 
 disguise the genuine feeling of my heart that in being 
 invited to address you I have been highly honored. 
 It has seldom fallen to my lot to speak to an audience 
 of persons who may be so justly characterized as 
 the nation's character builders. The creators of 
 Venice were her architects. But the architects of 
 America are her schoolmasters. Indeed in our whole 
 social system I know of but one human iufluenee 
 of such extensive and powerful operation as that of 
 our American teachers — that other is the influence 
 wielded by American mothers. 
 
 I am relieved of all perplexity in choosing my liue 
 of thought to-night by the form of the invitation 
 with which the officers of your association honored 
 me. They requested me to repeat on this occasion 
 some thoughts which I had presented in another place 
 on the Ideal Aims of Life. 
 
 Every human life has an ideal. Every bark on the 
 sea of human existence sights golden islands. Every 
 
 An address given before the State Teachers' Association, La- 
 crosse, Wis., and at Ripon College; Lake Forest University; 
 Rockford Ladies' Seminary, HI.; Waukesha Academy, Wis.; Fox 
 Lake Seminary, Wis.; Delaware Literary Institute, Franklin, N. 
 Y., June, 1884: used as a sermon in the Central Presbyterian 
 Church, Rochester, 1881, and the Presbyterian Church, Nineveh, 
 N. Y., 188S; also preached as a baccalaureate sermon at Whitney's 
 Point Academy, N. Y., 1886; Binghamton Central High School, 
 1886; Union School, Greene, N. Y., 1896. 
 
 78 
 
IDEAL AIMS 79 
 
 man, woman, child paints a dawning and smirise 
 on the future and follows the light of something that 
 goes above and before. The Italian beggar in his 
 rags and filth has his ideal, though it be nothing 
 higher than to lie in the sun and eat macaroni. The 
 girl who serves fixes her eye upon something above 
 her service. Some vision passes before her face and 
 her heart leaps upward in desire. There is a glory 
 and a dream streaming radiance and inspirations 
 down iuto the eyes of the boy following the furrow 
 of the plow. 
 
 To wear rich dress, to own a carriage, to live in a 
 large house, to grow wealthy and enjoy ease and ele- 
 gance, these, though material aims, are none the less 
 ideals to those who cherish them. "Whatever consti- 
 tutes a man's highest good, whatever controls the 
 direction of his thoughts, fixes the desire of his heart, 
 is his ideal. And so the world is full of ideals. If 
 they were visible all the air around us would be evi- 
 dently cut through and through by human aims, 
 aims near and far, low and high, feeble and swift, 
 flyiug like winged spirits in every possible direction 
 and darkening the atmosphere. 
 
 Of this innumerable host and great cloud of ideals 
 not one but is secretly drawing out a miad and de- 
 veloping a character. In youth we are anxious for 
 the best scholastic instruction. Later in life we set 
 great store by principles, conditions, habits. Mean- 
 while life and character are being determined by 
 something quite different from any of them. It is 
 
80 IDEAL AIMS 
 
 what a man lays to heart and lives by, what in his in- 
 most soul he loves, covets, desires, aims for, that in 
 the end molds his being and shapes his destiny. Our 
 aims are our real educators. Our architects are our 
 ideals. What character builders they are! Imaged 
 before the mind's conception continually, the plastic 
 forces of thought and feeling catch their features 
 and transfer them to the mind itself. They melt into 
 the soul and impregnate it. And what revealers of 
 character our ideals are ! Surer than our acts. Men 
 often act for a reason and agreeably to custom. But 
 these ideals show their souls and register their exact 
 essential value. 
 
 But now why have anything to do with ideal aims ? 
 Why not rather, as some sneeringly say, leave this 
 feeding on fantasies to poets and painters and dream- 
 ers, and for our part attend to the business of our 
 crafts, trades, professions, and try to help on the 
 practical work of life ? Certainly every man requires 
 to have his special work, requires to submit himself 
 to the yoke of some craft, trade or profession. In 
 the great majority of cases the necessities of food and 
 raiment make this imperative. But besides that the 
 highest ends of life require it. Intellectual vigor 
 and moral health demand the conserving influences 
 of a useful employment. No nature can subsist on 
 leisure or float in sunbeams. Shakespeare himself 
 must stand squarely on the ground. Michael Angelo 
 must exercise his five senses and be familiar with 
 facts. The soaring faiths and fervors of St. John 
 
IDEAL AIMS 81 
 
 must rest on sensible realities whicli lie has seen 
 with his eyes, heard with his ears, and his hands 
 have handled of the "Word of Life. Even the cheru- 
 bim of Ezekiel sometimes required to let down their 
 wings and stand on their feet. 
 
 But because man must needs stand on the ground, 
 sunlight and starlight are not therefore impertinences 
 to him. He does more work and better work whose 
 windows open to the irradiations of an ideal attaia- 
 ment. The horse submitting to move round and 
 round in the treadmill with aimless eye and languid 
 neck is not the highest type of practical energy. 
 Far grander spectacle is a boy in college reaching 
 forward night and day toward the prize of Ms ambi- 
 tion, counting labor nothing and rest nothing, health 
 nothing and sickness nothing, blinding his eye to 
 nothing and sickness nothing, blinding his eye to pres- 
 ent hardships and present pleasures, seeing nothing 
 but the master-light of the future and throwing him- 
 self forward with all his powers toward that. Be- 
 sides a man is something more than his trade. The 
 human soul cannot be fully expressed in terms of 
 blacksmithing or shoemaking or bookmaking. ' ' There 
 is a spirit in man and the inspiration of the Almighty 
 giveth him understanding." 
 
 And it is the very voice and stimulus of that in- 
 spiration to perpetually protest against the actual 
 attainments of human life and to keep alive in the 
 secret soul of man the vision of an ideal perfection. 
 It is given to the brutes around us to lie down in 
 
82 IDEAL AIMS 
 
 placid repose and chew the cud of ruminating con- 
 tentment. But in man there is something — whether 
 it be a reminiscence from Eden lost or a presentiment 
 from a golden daybreak to come I will not say — 
 but something haunting, something goading there 
 certainly is which ever more urges the human soul 
 toward an attainment and a beauty surpassing the 
 realities of experience. Accordingly youthfiol minds 
 and minds of the nobler sort throughout life have 
 ever been idealizing minds. They have craved some- 
 thing above the low contentments of a sense-bound 
 existence. They have apprehended for themselves 
 and for others the vision of a good brighter and better 
 than eye hath seen or ear heard. If in some instances 
 this craving after an ideal good instead of allying itself 
 with all that is true and noble has been seduced by 
 attractive delusions and prostituted to loathsome em- 
 braces, yet its very crimes have testified to the energy 
 of its impulse and the greatness of its origin. If 
 nearly all ideal seekers have failed to realize every- 
 thing they aimed for, they have at least had the joy 
 of the pursuit, and their failures, transcending all 
 other successes, shine evermore as the fairest tokens 
 and highest glories of our humanity. 
 
 Now if it be a fact that every life must of necessity 
 have some ideal aim and that aim whatever it be de- 
 termines the worth and beauty of the character, then 
 it becomes an inquiry of closest concern to every per- 
 son and especially every young person what this gov- 
 erning power and guiding light shall be. 
 
IDEAL AIMS 83 
 
 There are in general three kinds of ideal aims. One 
 class of minds live to the phenomenal world. They 
 make matter aU. They fix the supreme end of life 
 in the acquisition of external goods. They conceive 
 nothing more ultimate than bodily health and wealth. 
 And wealth, which was once a word of large meaning, 
 which was weal and welfare, has become so shrivelled 
 up in their etymology as to be synonymous with 
 houses and barns. They adore new inventions, sani- 
 tary improvements, rapid locomotion, railroads, 
 steam, coal, and the electric telegraph. "Whatsoever 
 things are healthy, whatsoever things are economical, 
 whatsoever things are labor-saving, whatsoever things 
 enhance the value of real estate, whatsoever things 
 can be turned into money, if there be anything that 
 will bake bread and if there be anything that will 
 quicken the liver and enable one to dine nicely and 
 sleep soundly, think on these things. For a man's 
 life consists in the abundance of the things which he 
 possesses. And man himself, created a little lower 
 than the angels, consists of palate, nose, touch, eye 
 and ear, these five and no more. 
 
 This is the underlying philosophy of much modern 
 life, a life which idolizes forces and overlooks pow- 
 ers, which worships means and forgets ends, which 
 teaches that man was made for things and not things 
 for man, which materializes and vulgarizes the very 
 mould of the forehead and lustre of the eyes and 
 tones of the voice. And not only the present but 
 the future is impoverished. If America shall con- 
 
84 IDEAL AIMS 
 
 tinue to be a word to haunt tlie imagination and 
 tingle in the ear, if boys and girls of the twentieth 
 century shall dilate with inspirations about the fire- 
 side or have their Plutarch and Carlyle under the 
 desk at school, they will not owe it to a tendency 
 which worships money bags and machinery and 
 breeds sots and cowards. "Every day," says Mr. 
 Froude in his Leaves from a South African Journal, 
 "I grow more convinced that all political questions 
 resolve themselves into one. What object do the 
 ruling powers set before themselves ? Is it to produce 
 a noble race of men or is it to produce what they 
 call wealth? If they aim chiefly at the second they 
 wiU not have the first. Every wise man, whether 
 Solomon or Plato, Horace or Shakespeare, has but 
 one answer on this subject. 'Where your treasure is 
 there will your heart be.' Let wealth be the sublime 
 end of our existence and no new English nations will 
 be bom in English colonies, England itself will be- 
 come a huge grazing farm, managed on economical 
 principles, and the people, however rich they may 
 appear, will be steadily going down to what used to 
 be called the devil." 
 
 There is a second class of minds who look above 
 the material appliances and embellishments of being 
 to the perfection of the being himself. They seek 
 first the inward and personal. Not machinery but 
 manhood is the object of their homage. They exalt 
 man himself as immeasurably greater than all his 
 outward goods put together. They lift up vehement 
 
IDEAL AIMS 85 
 
 protest against the prevailing materialism of the 
 age. They denoimce Mammon-worship as vulgar 
 and degrading and in their own dialect cry out al- 
 most as earnestly as the Divine Voice itself, "What 
 shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and 
 lose his own soul?" These are the apostles of cul- 
 ture. They are leading writers, artists, naturalists 
 and men of science at the present hour. 
 
 Self-culture proposes as our ideal aim a rounded 
 and harmoniously developed human nature. "Perfect 
 thyself" is its watchword. It holds with the old 
 sophist that man himself is the measure and end of 
 all things and that man exists not chiefly for what 
 can be accomplished by him but for what can be ac- 
 complished in him and on him. Self-culture calls 
 upon each and every one of us to set earnestly to 
 work completing himself on all sides and raising 
 every faculty and capacity of his nature to its ut- 
 most limit of excellence. It seeks to inspire us with 
 a sense of our self-sufficiency and points out our own 
 self-enlightenment and self -accomplishment as the 
 true well-spring of our most satisfying pleasures, ever 
 open at our door and springing at our feet. 
 
 Here is a picture of the ideal man sketched by a 
 much-admired master in this school. I call him an 
 ideally educated man "who has been so trained in 
 his youth that his body is the ready servant of his 
 will and does with ease and pleasure all the work that 
 as a mechanism it is capable of, whose intellect is a 
 clear precise logic-engine with aU its parts of equal 
 
86 IDEAL AIMS 
 
 strength and ready to be turned to any kind of work, 
 to spin the gossamers as well as forge the anchors of 
 thought, whose mind is stored with the great and 
 fundamental truths of nature and the laws of her 
 operations; one who, no stunted ascetic, is full of 
 life and fire, but whose passions are trained to come 
 to heel by a vigorous will, the servant of a tender 
 conscience ; who has learned to love all beauty whether 
 of nature or of art, to hate all vileness and to respect 
 others as himself." 
 
 This is a high calling. There is something higher, 
 as I hope to convince you before I close. But com- 
 pared with the ordinary standards to which human 
 lives are directed this is indeed a lofty aim. And 
 when set forth in the clear crystal speech of a Huxley 
 or illustrated by the brilliant and universal genius 
 of a Goethe or warmed into the semblance of life by 
 the poetic enthusiasm of a Matthew Arnold, it is 
 not strange that this ideal of self-culture possesses 
 a great fascination for many young ardent minds who 
 have yet had little experience of the truth about their 
 own natures or the truth of things. 
 
 The fatal defect of this aim is the inability to get 
 itself realized. It lacks the dynamic element. It 
 has no sufficient inspiration-force. Like the flowers 
 stuck in the play garden of the child, it looks very 
 attractive for a time but because it has no root it 
 soon withers away. Some of you will be at no loss 
 to understand the reason of this. Man is not an 
 original fountain of power. He is a receiver of 
 
IDEAL AIMS 87 
 
 power and a conductor of power. He was made to 
 have current and be in flood. He is strong, he is 
 complete, precisely in the degree that he is lifted out 
 of self, made utterly regardless of self, and put into 
 the flow of the inspiration-torrents of nature, of 
 brotherhood and of God. "Men of extraordinary 
 success," says Emerson, "in their honest moments 
 have always sung, 'not unto us, not unto us.' Ac- 
 cording to the faith of their times they have built 
 altars to Fortune, to Destiny or to Jesus. Their suc- 
 cess lay in their surrender to tides which found in 
 them an unobstructed channel. What seemed to be 
 will and self-seeking was iu reality willingness and 
 self-annihilation. ' ' 
 
 But self -culture separates man from all the great 
 exhaustless reservoirs of thought and feeling and 
 power. It shuts him up m simple selfhood. It starts 
 from self and returns to self. It centres the soul on 
 itself and requires it to evolve perfection from its 
 own iatemal resources — a thing as impossible as for 
 a sponge suspended in mid air to fill and flood itself 
 or for a plant cut ofE from the forces of soil and 
 sunshine to evolve its own blossom. The sponge re- 
 quires to be centered in the sea and given up to the 
 sea, the plant requires to be set iu the circle of earth 
 and air, and human spirits require to be set in and 
 be possessed by the iufinite and illimitable Spirit. 
 
 No doubt a man by painfully bending over his own 
 image may erase some outward imperfections and 
 polish some exterior surfaces, but when it is talked 
 
88 IDEAL AIMS 
 
 about furnishing and completing a soul, when the 
 word is self-perfection, a thing we are not able rightly 
 to imagine, much less to embody, the result is sure 
 to be an egotistical finish of veneering indifferently 
 laid on, impossible to keep from falling off and desti- 
 tute of all reality, strength, and beauty. The idea 
 of self-culture, if I may borrow a forcible figure 
 from Julius Hare, impales a man on his own personal 
 pronoim. Ever present I is the stake which is driven 
 through the soul of self-cultured suicide. And what 
 is this but the fulfillment of the old words, "Who- 
 soever will save his own life shall lose it!" 
 
 It is another defect of the culture theory that it is 
 for the few and not for the many, for the lettered 
 and not for the simple, for the study and academy, 
 and not for the workshop and nursery. It is a fastidi- 
 ous exclusive aim, which has no room to receive and 
 no welcome to extend to the great multitude of work- 
 ers whose lot is cast in the humbler places of life, who 
 know little of this world's learning but much, very 
 much of its toil and endurance and suffering. There 
 is privation in the world. There are chambers of pro- 
 tracted and distressing sickness. There are desert 
 places of the affections created not always by the 
 grave. There are deep dark caverns of oppression 
 where beautiful and noble aspirations like under- 
 ground streams struggle long and heroically but never 
 reach the light of realization. 
 
 To the eye of self-culture these are all strange 
 anomalies, blank spaces, lost experiences, periods of 
 
IDEAL AIMS 89 
 
 utter and incomprehensible waste. And yet out of 
 these privative conditions we all have seen some men 
 and possibly more women emerge at last crowned with 
 chaplets of strange surpassing hues, "led by some 
 secret way up to the serenest and most beautiful 
 heights of character." my brother scholars, God 
 exists. There exists and there works in and over our 
 lives a Higher "Wisdom than our own. High above 
 all our self-chosen aims and ideals there exists cre- 
 ated for each of us in His eternal thought, determined 
 for each of us by one particular mould of being and 
 realizable by each of us under His shaping hand, an 
 ideal of perfection and beauty far excelling anything 
 that has entered into the heart of man to imagine. 
 
 I come now to speak of the last and supreme ideal 
 aim of human existence. That was a fine conjecture 
 of the divine Plato that each human personality is the 
 offspring or product of a preconceived plan and eternal 
 idea in the Infinite Mind. Let me illustrate his meaning. 
 "When God held the seeds of aU vegetation in His 
 hand at the beginning of creation what did He? He 
 informed the Spirit of life which He concealed in 
 the bosom of each germ with a certain plan. In mys- 
 terious symbol he wrote in one, rose ; in another, palm 
 tree ; in a third, pine and so on. And when one un- 
 folded into a thing of beauty and another developed 
 iato a son of consolation for the weary traveler of 
 the desert and the next shot up iato a magnificent in- 
 stance of toweriag majesty, it was simply the mani- 
 festation of the thought which God had formed for 
 
90 IDEAL AIMS 
 
 each and hidden in each at the outset. So, speculated 
 the great Greek seer, may there not be eternal forms 
 of thought, mysterious conceptions of the Infinite 
 Mind, existing in and for human souls? But the 
 golden fancy of the golden Dreamer is only a dim 
 anticipation of the plain matter-of-fact teaching of 
 the Christian revelation. It is there distinctly set 
 forth that each individual soul contains wrapped up 
 in the centre of his being an original divine ideal of 
 perfection and beauty differentiating him both in the 
 plan and in the results of his unfolding from every 
 other individual and transcending in majesty and 
 glory all his highest conceptions. 
 
 "Every human soul," says Bushnell, "has a com- 
 plete and perfect plan, cherished for it in the heart of 
 God — a divine biography marked out, which it enters 
 into life to live. This life, rightly unfolded, wiU be 
 
 a complete and beautiful whole, a drama cast 
 
 in the mould of a perfect art, with no part wanting; 
 
 a divine study that shall forever unfold, in 
 
 wondrous beauty, the love and faithfulness of God; 
 great in its conception, great in the Divine skill by 
 which it is shaped; above all great in the momentous 
 and glorious issues it prepares. "What a thought is 
 this for a human soul to cherish ! What insti- 
 gations does it add to send us onward in everything 
 that constitutes our excellence ! We live in the Divine 
 thought. We exist to realize a divine life plan." 
 
 But now arises the question how one is to imder- 
 stand his divine life plan so as to enter into it — how 
 
IDEAL AIMS 91 
 
 he is to apprehend his divine life ideal so as to strive 
 intelligently toward it. He cannot apprehend it di- 
 rectly. He cannot yet see it from its upper side. 
 Nor is it necessary that he should. It is not necessary 
 that the soldier should get hold of the secret plan of 
 the campaign in order to his entering into the opera- 
 tions of the battle or sharing in the results of the vic- 
 tory. It is only necessary that he accept vrith a sol- 
 dier's fealty and a soldier's pride his general's au- 
 thority upon him, fixing his position, assigning his 
 duty, bidding him hold that or die. 
 
 And so, my friends, to find your way into God's 
 life-plan for you and to be ever reaching forth toward 
 His perfect life-ideal you have but to come trustfully 
 and courageously under the allegiance of His aU- 
 righteous will. Be it yours to renounce self, to cease 
 from self-chosen aims and to go forth into life in 
 the strength of this one word — duiy, and all the rest 
 will follow. Yes, if you ask me to name the highest 
 ideal aim and truest end which any man can possibly 
 set before him, I shall say that as seen from the side 
 of earth as it presents itself now, it consists in the 
 fulfillment of his moral obligations. 
 
 Moral obligations are of three kinds. Faith and 
 obedience to God our Father — love and sympathy to 
 man ovlS brother — earnest careful study and reverent 
 use of Nature, our abode. I have no time to dwell 
 upon these obligations in detail. Nor is there any 
 necessity. You are instructed in them from the pro- 
 fessor's chair and from the preacher's desk. But I 
 
92 IDEAL AIMS 
 
 wish to speak a few words not so much in the way 
 of instruction as in the spirit of brotherhood and con- 
 gratulation to as many of you as are minded to in- 
 scribe high above every other word upon your stand- 
 ard that most sublime and sacred of all words, duty. 
 
 You have chosen an ideal, young men and women, 
 which takes up into itself all that is good in other 
 aims, which supplements them and makes them per- 
 fect. Some of you may have read the grand book on 
 Culture and Eeligion, which came a few years ago 
 from the hand of the newly elected Professor of 
 Poetry at Oxford. If so you will not have forgotten 
 a truth which he dwells much upon and which is well 
 known to all who have reflected on the subject — the 
 truth that the very way to miss some things is to seek 
 them, while to abandon them and rise above them in 
 a higher aim is to surely attain them. Take beauty 
 for iastance; aim at being beautiful and you will 
 never reach it. But aim beyond and above it — aim 
 at strength, purity, goodness, and somehow, as if it 
 were an emanation from these higher qualities, 
 beauty of expression appears on the face and grace 
 of action distinguishes the manner. So with happi- 
 ness — ^no one ever found real happiness by seeking 
 to be happy. But fountains of sweetest pleasure 
 spring up in the high paths of search after truth and 
 self-sacrifice for the good of others. 
 
 Well, precisely so with the ends proposed by self- 
 culture, self-enlightenment, self-accomplishment. He 
 who seeks these things first and highest misses 
 
IDEAL AIMS 93 
 
 them, while he who makes the will of God 
 his rule and duty, his ultimate aim, not only gains 
 what he seeks, but finds all truest and loveliest self- 
 perfections gathering upon him of themselves with- 
 out his being aware how they come. Be sure of it, 
 he exalts and idealizes his own nature most effectually 
 who sinks himself most deeply in submission to his 
 God and iu loving service of his fellow beiags. 
 
 It belongs secondly to the ideal you have chosen 
 to unite you in a bond of brotherhood with your 
 parents at home, with one another here ia school, 
 and with all the noblest spirits of the race. 
 
 One of the most pathetic spectacles I have ever been 
 called to witness has been when fond parents and 
 sisters have toiled late and early, denying themselves, 
 to send a son and brother to college, and that young 
 man has come home after a course of study cold, con- 
 temptuous, cynical, the old faith gone, the former 
 sympathy dead, and a smitten family are compelled to 
 see that the pride of the household has chosen for 
 himself a far other road than that in which they are 
 traveling and in which they had hoped he would 
 travel with them and lead them. 
 
 A thousand seeds must fall into the ground and be 
 watered in tears that one may ripen to the full ear. 
 A thousand soldiers must fall and lie ia the trenches 
 that one may triumphantly mount the breach. But 
 they are satisfied to lie there, their hearts wiU thriU 
 and leap upward to join him when they see their 
 brother beariag the sacred banner above the scaled 
 
94 IDEAL AIMS 
 
 heights, because they know it is a victory at once his 
 and theirs. And in like manner the numbers who 
 must toil at home unseen for every privileged one 
 who is permitted to climb the heights of knowledge 
 &nd wisdom are well content to toil there, will even 
 find their joy in toiling there, if only the tie of 
 brotherhood between him and them be preserved, if 
 only they may see their dearest hopes cherished in 
 his attainments, the highest aims of their souls and 
 of humanity advanced by his successes. For brother- 
 hood is not by equality, not by likeness, but by giving 
 and receiving. It is when souls that are unlike, con- 
 ditions that are unlike, possessions that are unlike are 
 bound together in one noble whole by all seeking the 
 same ultimate ends and by each receiving something 
 from and of the other 's gifts and the other 's glory. 
 
 Finally you have espoused an ideal for the realiza- 
 tion of which is working a higher Wisdom than your 
 own. You see yonder sculptor in the midst of his 
 marbles. One is far advanced toward completion, 
 another is in the midst of the work, while still another 
 was commenced but yesterday. But how he loves 
 them all! He would not have you lift a blow upon 
 them. "What! are pieces of dead stone then so dear 
 in his eyes? no, it is not that, but the living con- 
 ceptions which his genius has implanted in the stones 
 and which he is purposing to bring out upon them. 
 This is to be a Columbus, that au Abraham Lincoln, 
 the other a St. John. These ideals are what he sees 
 and loves. 
 
IDEAL AIMS 95 
 
 Brother seliolars, it is my faith and joy to believe 
 that I am standing in the presence of hidden ideals 
 of the Infinite Mind more precious to Him than 
 words can tell. I know that over and above all you 
 are planning and working to do for yourselves, God 
 by wondrous strokes and mysterious influences is 
 working upon you and raising you up to His own 
 ideal. 
 
 You and I may not be able to see how this work is 
 going on for it is hidden from human eyes. It is 
 said that when Michael Angelo was decorating the 
 Sistine Chapel, the Pope demanded that the scaffold- 
 ing should be taken down that he might know what 
 was being wrought, for he declared that he could see 
 nothing but boards and ropes, lime and mortar and 
 dust. But the great artist heeded neither his en- 
 treaties nor his threats but toiled on silently and 
 patiently by day and by night, week after week, 
 month after month, bringing out his wondrous crea- 
 tions until the work was done. Then when all things 
 were finished he gave the order and the workmen came 
 and the scaffolding was removed, and behind it was 
 as if one saw the heavens opened and looked into 
 the New Jerusalem. So with God's work on human 
 souls. The scaffolding is kept up until the work is 
 done, until the finished ideal is ready to shine out in 
 perfect characters, to the glory and delight of the 
 Great Artist. 
 
GOD'S SELF-GIVEN NAME. 
 
 "And God said unto Moses, I am that I am: and he said, 
 Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, I AM hath sent 
 me unto you. ' ' Exodus 3 : 14. 
 
 I do not take this self-declaration of the Infinite 
 and Eternal One for our thought this morning be- 
 cause I seem to myself to have comprehended the 
 measure of its meaning and to be unable to show 
 you all there is in it. No man can show all there is 
 in any name of God. It would not be a name of 
 God if he could. And this above other divine names 
 is inexplicable because it is essential in character, 
 because it refers not to any attitude or relation of 
 God to others, but to His own inner nature. It goes 
 above and beyond what God is to the universe, above 
 and beyond what he is to our souls. It describes what 
 God is in Himself, what He was in His solitary self- 
 sufScing eternity before we had any souls to be lost 
 or saved, what He would continue to be though the 
 whole universe and every finite spirit in it were 
 
 Preached in the First Presbyterian Church, Binghamton (date 
 not given); also In these churches: First Congregational, ITirst 
 Baptist, West Presbyterian, Binghamton: Second Presbyterian 
 and Green Ridge Presbyterian, Scranton: First Presbyterian and 
 Westminster Presbyterian, Buffalo: Presbyterian, Afton, N. Y.: 
 Park Presbyterian, Syracuse; Presbyterian, Coventry, N. T.; First 
 Presbyterian, Cortland, N.T.: Presbyterian, Waverly, N.T.; Central 
 Presbyterian, Rochester, 1886: Central Presbyterian, Denver, 1890: 
 Immanuel Presbyterian, Milwaukee, 1890; Presbyterian, Owego, N. 
 Y., 1891; First Presbyterian, Rochester, 1891; New York Avenue 
 Presbyterian, Washington, D. C, 1892; Westminster Presbyterian, 
 Utica, 1892: First Presbyterian, Bnglewood, N. J., 1898: Central 
 Presbyterian, Denver, 1898: United Presbyterian Mission, Cairo, 
 Egypt, 1899: First Presbyterian, Evanston, 111., 1901: Presbyterian, 
 Conklin, N. Y., 1903; First Presbyterian, Elmira, N. Y., 1903. 
 
 96 
 
GOD'S SELF-GIVEN NAME 97 
 
 turned back into the abyss of nothingness. It is a 
 very great and mysterious name. And I do not know 
 that I should try to approach it did I not feel that 
 being a name which God has given to Himself and 
 a name by which He told Moses He desires to be 
 known amongst all generations of men, it must 
 therefore contain the deepest practical lesson which 
 the human heart has to learn. Let us then think 
 a while over this self -given name of God. The more 
 we think upon it, if we think aright, the more we 
 shall be at once humbled and exalted, humbled in 
 our outer self-consciousness, exalted in our inner 
 God-consciousness, raised in spirit and thrown upon 
 the knees in the body. 
 
 It is a remarkable fact to begin with, that we do 
 not know how to pronounce correctly the self-given 
 name of God. "We only know that the pronunciation we 
 have is incorrect. "We pronounce it as we find it writ- 
 ten in the Hebrew Bible, Jehovah. But the Jews never 
 wrote it correctly. They held it a capital crime for 
 any person to do so. Only the High Priest, and he 
 but once a year, might rightly pronounce the self- 
 given name of God. For the rest the scribes wrote it 
 and the people pronounced it by taking the vowel 
 sounds of another name of God and uniting them 
 with the radicals of this name. And so the true 
 pronunciation is lost and never can be authoritatively 
 fixed. 
 
 "What has been said of the pronunciation of this 
 Name may almost be said of its meaning. There is a 
 
98 GOD'S SELF-GIVEN NAME 
 
 meaning, a circle of clear intelligible meaning, but 
 surrounding that is another larger circle of vague- 
 ness and inexplicable mystery. The Name is formed 
 from the first person singular of the present tense 
 of the substantive verb, I am. And this is amplified 
 into I AM THAT I AM. Now here is a starting point 
 of definiteness. I am, as I hope to show you before 
 I sit down, is the beginning of a profound and far- 
 reaching suggestion. It starts out with a wondrous 
 sweep as if it were going to be a great revelation, 
 then suddenly, after one dazzling gleam, it hides itself 
 behind a cloud of deeper obscurity than ever. 
 Whether we understand I am that I am as equiva- 
 lent to I am what I must be, or I am what I have ever 
 been, or I am what I have pledged myself to be, it 
 matters little in point of meaning. In any under- 
 standing of it, it is an expression going out in vague 
 and boundless mystery. "What if it had so to go 
 out, what if no word, no human speech, could con- 
 tain all that Jehovah is and all that He wishes to 
 be to those who love and serve Him? "What if I am 
 THAT I AM were reaUy a truer, more accurate ex- 
 pression of the infinite largeness of God's mind and 
 heart than any more definite description of Him could 
 possibly be? "When Manoah asked after the name of 
 the angel of the Lord, his thought was at once 
 estopped and greatly elevated by the answer, ""Why 
 askest thou after my name, seeing that it is wonder- 
 ful?" It is a great thing for us to learn that God 
 is larger than our ideas of Him. "We talk about God 
 
GOD'S SELF-GIVEN NAME 99 
 
 so often and, so familiarly that we think we under- 
 stand Him quite well. But the truth is that what 
 we know about God, greater and better than all our 
 other knowledge as it is, is almost nothing at aU com- 
 pared with what we do not know about Him. Teach 
 a child the alphabet, show him how to spell out some 
 small words, and how much does he then know of the 
 riches and resources of the English language as 
 spread out upon the pages of Shakespeare and Bacon 
 and DeQuincey and Kuskin 1 Give a person the first 
 lessons in music, teach him to strike the notes of the 
 gamut, and what is his conception of the heights and 
 depths, the powers and possibilities of harmonious 
 sound contained in the compositions of Mozart and 
 Beethoven and Sebastian Bach ? What we know about 
 God, what we know about any nearest attribute of 
 His being, His omnipresence. His eternity. His mercy 
 is but the least and lowest part of what that attribute 
 is. It is a necessity of the case that every Name of 
 God should terminate in vagueness and mystery. His 
 Name like Himself must be enfolded in clouds and 
 darkness. 
 
 But as I said there is a starting point of definite- 
 ness here. I am is a word of clear intelligible mean- 
 ing. It implies first of aU existence, independent, 
 self-contained existence. It is equivalent to saying, "I 
 exist neither by creation or by derivation. I receive 
 life from nothing. I have it inherently, independ- 
 ently, originally. Myself am life and the giver of it 
 to all things." You and I, my friends, if we weigh 
 
100 GOD'S SELF-GIVEN NAME 
 
 our words, cannot say I am and add nothing more 
 to it. "We can say I am this or that, I am a man, 
 I am a woman, I am a child, or I am a lawyer, I am 
 a merchant, I am a mechanic. "We can say, I am born, 
 I am created, I am preserved. In other words, I am 
 dependently, I am permissively, I am conditionally. 
 But to say, I am, simply meaning what the words 
 mean, separate, solitary, self-sufScing existence, we 
 dare not. But because God is all contained in Him- 
 self, because His existence is His own root and crown, 
 because He is uncreated existence and another exist- 
 ence is His gift, therefore from His lips can go forth 
 the sublime words I am. 
 
 But again I am implies eternal existence. In our 
 human grammars the verb of existence passes through 
 three stages of time. We say of ourselves, I am, I 
 was, I shall be. But God's being can not be con- 
 jugated. He passes through no stages of succession. 
 To him there is nothing gone, nothing to come, "no 
 varied future yet unlived, no lapse of buried past." 
 To Him there is no I was, no I shall be. He knows 
 but one tense, the all-ineludirig eternal present. He 
 therefore, and He alone can say I am. 
 
 Unchangeableness is another fact contained in this 
 Name. I am what I am has a tone of immutability 
 about it that strikes the ear as it falls. It seems to 
 say "I am far above that temporary, changeful, un- 
 certain state of being in which you exist and of which 
 you are often so weary, that state in which minds 
 are fickle, hearts inconstant and nought doth endure 
 
GOD'S SELF-GIVEN NAME 101 
 
 but mutability. I change not. The law of ebb and 
 flow is oiitside of my beiag. There is no altering 
 my nature, no increasing or decreasing my perfec- 
 tions, no varying my thoughts, feelings, purposes. 
 
 ' Change finds no likeness to itself in me 
 And makes no echo in my full eternity. ' 
 
 I am what I have been and ever must be, the same 
 yesterday, to-day and forever." 
 
 Here I pause a moment to express what I am sure 
 must be your feeling as well as mine in view of these 
 great truths of God which have now passed before us. 
 I pause to express my satisfaction and comfort that 
 there is an infinite, eternal, unchangeable Being in 
 this universe and that He has cared to speak to you 
 and to me. He, the I am, the Self- Evident One, who 
 needs no one and nothing, has stooped from His 
 throne in Heaven to tell you and me and millions 
 of mankind about Himself. He wishes us human 
 beings to know who He is. He wishes, shall I say it, 
 to raise us up from the death of sin and the transitori- 
 ness of earth to participation in His own eternal 
 life of perfect righteousness and perfect blessedness. 
 
 "O thou art very great, 
 To set thyself so far above; 
 But we partake of Thine estate 
 Established in Thy strength and in Thy love : 
 That love hath made eternal room for me 
 In the sweet vastness of its own eternity. ' ' 
 
 But we have not yet reached the summit of the 
 mysterious Name. "We have one more ascent to climb. 
 
102 GOD'S SELF-GIVEN NAME 
 
 The personality of God is really the highest point of 
 significance here. "What is personality? Something 
 more than being. Not every being is a person. But 
 every self-conscious, self-determined being, every 
 beiag that thinks and feels and acts out of a sense 
 of freedom is a person. Self-consciousness, intelli- 
 gence and freedom of will, these constitute person- 
 ality. But there is a shorter method of testing per- 
 sonality than the analji;ical one. Any being that can 
 use the personal pronoun "I" or be properly ad- 
 dressed as "thou" is a person. God is such a being. 
 He can say in the fullest meaning of the terms I am. 
 My brothers, God is not an immense vagueness, not 
 a vast web of natural laws, not a flow of blind in- 
 stiactive force universally diffused without head or 
 heart. God is a self-conscious Brain, a self-determined 
 Win, a throbbing Heart. God is a Thinker, a Seer, a 
 Hearer, a Lover, a Hater. God is a living Person, 
 a moral Governor, a pitying Father, a holy Judge. 
 You cannot read a chapter in the Bible without re- 
 ceiving a distinct impression of the moral person- 
 ality of God ; you cannot turn a leaf in your own con- 
 science. Why is it that when you have done right 
 you feel strong though all men scowl and hiss 1 Why 
 is it that when you have done wrong you feel re- 
 sponsible not only to yourself and your fellow men 
 but to Something or Someone beside? Who and 
 what is that mysterious Power that holds you to the 
 obligation of doing right and forces a moral judg- 
 ment upon every one of your acts? Is it a law, is 
 
GOD'S SELF-GIVEN NAME 103 
 
 it an idealized abstraction, is it anything uncon- 
 scious or semi-conscious ? No, my brother, you cannot 
 feel a sense of shame and guilt before electricity, or 
 before a tree, or before a bird. Nothing less than a 
 person, a holy person, can lay His hand on the in- 
 most springs of your being and make you strong or 
 weak, happy or unhappy, by His approval or disap- 
 proval. 
 
 And not only conscience and the Bible bear witness 
 to the moral personality of God. The created 
 universe itself flashes the divine reality in our faces 
 on every side. "How do you know," a Bedouin was 
 asked, "that there is a personal God?" "In the 
 same way that I know on looking at the sand whether 
 a man or a beast has crossed the desert, by the foot- 
 prints in the world around me." Look at the up- 
 turned faces in this sanctuary this morning, look 
 at these shadows of immortal images, these homes 
 of conscious intelligence, palpitating thought, pas- 
 sionate afEection, lofty aspiration. He who made 
 these thought-flashing faces, does He not think? He 
 who formed these over-full hearts, does He not feel? 
 He who created these living men and women and 
 endowed them with intelligence, love, courage, ideal- 
 ity, moral perception, does He not possess the powers 
 which He has bestowed? 
 
 I am amazed that some men, some scientific men, 
 who find this universe so full of thought and beauty 
 and marvellous intelligence, cannot find an intelligent 
 Maker of it. And yet I partly imderstand it. They 
 
104 GOD'S SELF-GIVEN NAME 
 
 are so fascinated by the law, the order, the harmony, 
 the manifold variety and the infinite adaptation of 
 God's works of creation that their minds are com- 
 pletely absorbed in the work and lost to the "Worker. 
 In their admirations of His footprints they lose sight 
 of the divine Traveler Himself whose trail they are 
 following. 
 
 And so the biologist spends laborious days and 
 weary nights in turning the leaves of the book of 
 physical life and deciphering its contents and then 
 tells us as the result of his research that physical life 
 is the product of blind development. As if a book 
 which only the best heads can read had been written 
 by no head at all, but only by matter and force work- 
 ing in natural selection. And so the star-eyed 
 astronomer turns his telescope to the heavens and sees 
 a majestic order, planets circling about suns, systems 
 revolving around systems, all moving in perfect regu- 
 larity in their prodigious pathways. He sees this 
 kosmos of wonder and beauty and power, but sees no 
 mind creating and controlling it. And yet that same 
 man cannot examine a theory of the heavens, cannot 
 look at a picture, cannot read a poem, without seeing 
 in it the work of a personal intelligence. The discov- 
 eries of Isaac Newton, the creations of Raphael, the 
 conceptions of Dante, he knows could only come from 
 a mind. But Isaac Newton and Raphael and Dante 
 themselves together with all that inspired and in- 
 formed them he thinks might come from nothing but 
 chance and clay. 
 
GOD'S SELF-GIVEN NAME 105 
 
 My friends, the thought we are now considering is 
 an intensely practical one. If God be nothing more 
 than the unconscious soul of the universe or the 
 nexus of laws by which the universe is governed, then 
 all acts of religious worship such as are paid in this 
 sanctuary from Sunday to Sunday are simply farci- 
 cal. We may as weU spare ourselves the foUy of 
 praying to a deaf and dumb principle. Our creeds 
 and confessions, our ascriptions and doxologies, are no 
 more to such a God than the sound of the winds or 
 the murmur of the ocean. Our tears, tears of peni- 
 tence, tears of sorrow, are just like drops of sap exud- 
 ing from a wounded tree. But if God be a living in- 
 telligence and almighty heart, if He be our Father 
 in heaven, of whose boundless truth and love and ten- 
 derness all earthly fatherhood is but an image and a 
 token, then praise is comely. "We may make a joyful 
 noise before Him in the day of thanksgiving, for He 
 hears us. We may cry to Him out of the depths, for 
 He has a heart that can feel our pain and a hand that 
 can deliver us out of aU our trouble. 
 
 Again, it is from the conviction of a personal God 
 that aU. earnest human work takes its highest stimulus 
 and motive power. When the belief in a personal 
 God goes out of a man, every high resolution, every 
 heroic impulse, every fine enthusiasm, every fresh in- 
 spiration goes out with it or close behind it. And 
 why should they not ? No invisible eye watches him, 
 no sympathizing heart nerves him, no guerdon awaits 
 his noble deed. Life has no responsibility, prayer no 
 
106 GOD'S SELF-GIVEN NAME 
 
 spring, duty no recognition. The present is a pur- 
 poseless existence and the future a hopeless blank. 
 What is left for such a person but to eat and drink 
 and die? 
 
 But let a man be thoroughly convinced that a per- 
 sonal Being has placed him in this world and that 
 he has a heaven-appointed work to do, let him be per- 
 suaded that above all that is dark and inexplicable 
 and sad there sits supreme an all-wise, almighty, and 
 all-merciful Being, who watches him, loves him, guides 
 him and is intent upon leading him onward and up- 
 ward, and if there be any spirit and efficiency in the 
 man it will be stirred and empowered. 
 
 "Men have always toiled best," says Peter Bayne, 
 "and fought best when moved by impulses holding 
 from the Infinite. ' ' It was when amid the battle dust 
 around Antioch or moving along the slopes of Olivet 
 the worn crusader caught the gleam of celestial 
 helms that he became irresistible. It was by the faith 
 of a personal God that Luther defied Rome, that Gus- 
 tavus Adolphus poured out his great heart for his 
 country's freedom, that the Puritans fought at 
 Naseby and founded a New England on these in- 
 hospitable shores. "I am hath sent me unto you," 
 said Moses to the Hebrews in Goshen. They were not 
 Swiss patriots, not the countrymen of William TeU 
 and Arnold Winkelried whom he was addressing. 
 They were poor ignorant down-trodden broken-spir- 
 ited slaves, and yet they followed him through the 
 cloven surges, through the howling wilderness. 
 
GOD'S SELF-GIVEN NAME 107 
 
 wMthersoever lie listed. That Presence in the Cloud 
 by day and in the fiery Pillar by night, that om- 
 nipotent I AM drew them and drave them, impelled 
 them and inade an immortal nation of them. 
 
 Finally it is the fact that God is a personal Being 
 that satisfies the deepest want of man's heart. I 
 seem to see before me what I saw the other day, a 
 hnsband bending in anguish over the remains of his 
 best beloved one. They have lived together a few 
 happy years. His heart has grown purer and better 
 every day in her sweet society. All his earthly joy 
 was in the sunshine of her smile. And now she lies 
 before him cold, pale, silent, the lingering lines of 
 beauty not yet efi'aced from lip and brow. In this 
 hour of mortal anguish what does this poor man's 
 heart and flesh cry out for? It cries out for God, for 
 the liviag personal God. And when the personal God, 
 hearing his prayer, puts an immortal hope in his 
 heart and he sees the heavens opened and beholds his 
 darling alive, and more alive than ever, in that in- 
 finite Home, then his heart is overshadowed by im- 
 mortal love and his agony changes to peace. my 
 brothers, the heart craves a heart, a Person, an al- 
 mighty Friend. It craves a seeing Eye, a hearing 
 Ear, a living Breast upon which it may at last lay 
 its weary head and fall asleep like a child in its 
 mother's arms. The heart wants a personal God. 
 
 Here I pause. We have considered the self-given 
 Name of God. We have heard Him say I am. But 
 what He is He does not further say. It is interest- 
 
108 GOD'S SELF-GIVEN NAME 
 
 ing to inquire whether He has ever finished His sen- 
 tence. The New Testament answers. Jesus Christ 
 connects Himself distinctly ia so many words with 
 this mysterious Name. ' ' Before Abraham was, I am. ' ' 
 And so the unfinished revelation finds its completion 
 iu Bethlehem and Calvary and Christ. The great 
 ladder whose top is above the stars touches also every 
 thing that has strength and beauty, truth and ten- 
 derness. 
 
 Now I find Christ taking all beauteous objects and 
 saying I am this and that. I am the Vine, I am the 
 Eose and the Lily, I am the Light and the Morning 
 Star, I am the Rock and the River of Life, I am the 
 Shepherd, the Prince, the King. Thus is Jesus Christ 
 the completed revelation, the unveiled glory of God 
 in all things. Nay more, I find Jesus Christ taking 
 all himible believing human souls and saying, I am 
 Abraham's, I am Moses', I am David's, I am Isaiah's, 
 I am Paul's, I am John's, I am every believing 
 man's, every saintly woman's, every trustful child's. 
 Thus is Jesus Christ not only the completed revela- 
 tion, the unveiled glory of God in all things, but the 
 personal Saviour and everlasting possessor of you and 
 of me. 
 
 ' ' And what though earth and sea His glory do proclaim, 
 Though on the stars is writ that great and dreadful Name, 
 Yea, hear me. Son of Man, with tears my eyes are dim, 
 I cannot read the word that calls me close to Him! 
 I say it after Thee with faltering voice and weak. 
 The Name of Jesus Christ, this Name I trust and seek." 
 
THE OLD PATHS. 
 
 "Thus saitli the Lord, Stand ye in the ways, and see, and 
 ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein, 
 and ye shall find rest for your souls. ' ' Jeremiah 6 : 16. 
 
 "We have assembled here to-day, my friends, to 
 dedicate this house to the worship and service of Al- 
 mighty God, the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, 
 and to the teaching of the blessed Gospel of our Lord 
 and Saviour Jesus Christ. I do not know of any 
 precept in the New Testament which expressly en- 
 joins the performance of these dedicatory rites. It 
 is deeply, divinely implanted in our nature, it is a 
 moral instinct, that a structure designed for high 
 superearthly uses should be consecrated to the pur- 
 pose for which it was reared by special religious cere- 
 monies. We do not expect by these ceremonies to 
 confer any magical virtue upon these walls or to 
 communicate any singular efficacy to the acts and 
 offices which shall hereafter be performed within 
 them. In the Middle Ages there grew up, like the 
 
 Preached at the dedications of the new building of the First 
 Presbyterian Cburcb, Cortland, N. Y., 1890, and of the rebuilt 
 First Baptist Cburcb, Binghamton, 1891. Without the introduc- 
 tion referring to the dedication, this sermon was preached in Im- 
 manuel Presbyterian Church, Milwaukee, 1872: also in these 
 churches: Presbyterian, Waukesha, Wis., and Manitowoc, Wis.; 
 First Presbyterian, Binghamton, 1884; Central Presbyterian, 
 Eochester, 1884; Central Presbyterian, Denver, 1888; Presbyterian, 
 TTnion, N. T., 1888; First Presbyterian, 1890; First Presbyterian, 
 Rochester, 1891; Second Presbyterian, Scranton, 1891; Presbyterian, 
 Owego, N. Y., 1897; Central Presbyterian, Denver, 1898; First 
 Presbyterian, WUkes-Barre, 1898. 
 
 109 
 
110 THE OLD PATHS 
 
 ivy on its walls, mytliical stories about the history 
 of almost every statelier church. It is often related 
 how after long meditation the plan of the edifice 
 was at length projected before some gifted person's 
 vision in lines of light, or found traced in the de- 
 scending dew upon the sparkling sward from which 
 the fabric was to rise. We do not claim any such 
 supernatural prefigurement of the architecture of 
 this building marking its inception, nor do we ex- 
 pect to call down any mysterious properties of heaven 
 upon its completion. At the same time we do recog- 
 nize in this sanctuary something that remove it from 
 all other buildings and places it on an eminence. 
 We recognize a high holy intention on the part of its 
 builders, an inestimable far-reach;ing value in its 
 uses, more distinctly and devoutly we recognize a 
 greatness and a sanctity which no elevation of ma- 
 terial architecture can ever reach, derived from the 
 august character and promised occupancy of Him by 
 whose blessing the house has been erected and to 
 whose service and glory it is now to be set apart. 
 
 I have said that this house is to be dedicated to the 
 preaching of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. But the 
 Gospel of Christ is preached in different forms. Be- 
 sides the well-known religious denominations which 
 divide Christendom among themselves are various 
 views, lights, doctrines, iaterpretations and illumina- 
 tions which claim to be new discoveries or higher 
 developments of the truth given us ia Jesus Christ. 
 It becomes necessary therefore to be definite and 
 
THE OLD PATHS 111 
 
 point out the particular interpretation of the Gospel 
 that is to he taught in this place. 
 
 Extending from the Holy Apostles doTvn to the 
 present time is one unbroken line of believers and 
 witnesses, one marvelous unity of belief and confes- 
 sion, one great comprehensive system of truth which 
 differs from all other views in the profound impres- 
 sion it has ever made upon the world, in the tran- 
 scendent importance which it attaches to religion and 
 in its unchanging indestructible invincible persistence. 
 Called sometimes Pauline Christianity, sometimes 
 Augustiuianism, sometimes Calvinism, sometimes 
 Presbyterianism, it is in fact the system of the doc- 
 triues of Divine Grace by which man is rescued from 
 a great and awful perdition to a great and everlast- 
 ing salvation by a great and divine Redeemer. To these 
 doctrines which have been the faith of the Holy Catho- 
 lic Church from the beginning until now, in the belief 
 of which lived and died Paul, Clement, Augustine, 
 Anselm, Bernard, Luther, Calvin, Pascal, Hooker, 
 Edwards and Chalmers, to these sublime unearthly 
 doctrines of sovereign omnipotent Grace and to the 
 Gospel interpreted in harmony with them we dedi- 
 cate this building. 
 
 And it has seemed to me fitting that the great 
 truths which are to dominate the thinking and teach- 
 ing of this place should be the topic of my discourse 
 on this occasion. Accordingly I am to speak to you 
 this afternoon on what my text eaUs the old paths 
 in religion — "Thus saith the Lord, Stand ye in the 
 
112 THE OLD PATHS 
 
 ways, and see, and ask for the old paths, where is the 
 good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest 
 for your souls." 
 
 "We are frequently meeting with persons who have 
 grown tired of the old paths, who are turning away 
 from them and eagerly looking for some new and 
 better way. Such persons are generally impressed 
 with the idea that great advancements have been 
 made or are soon to be made in the matter of religion. 
 They confidently anticipate a vast increase of light 
 and knowledge in the sphere of religious thought. 
 They fully expect that great and important discov- 
 eries are about to be made iu it. It is thought by some 
 that we are even now upon the edge of a new dawn, 
 that a brighter sky is already lifting and widening 
 and purpling above us, and that the idea of progress 
 in religion, so far from being a vain and hurtful 
 thought to cherish, is a first necessity of every earnest 
 and highly gifted soul. 
 
 This is not strange. "We live in an age of improve- 
 ments. Especially in physical science and the useful 
 arts has the present century ushered in a prodigious 
 train of brilliant discoveries. The spirit of the cen- 
 tury is a spirit of progress, and no one at all familiar 
 with the history and phases of thought but knows the 
 silent and subtle power of the spirit of an age to 
 pervade and color the thinking of that age even in 
 matters which it had no part in creating and never 
 can have any in improving. So that I do not think 
 we need to be surprised at seeing frequent newspaper 
 
THE OLD PATHS 113 
 
 paragraphs and magazine articles breathing the senti- 
 ment which Augustus Hare once met with and which 
 he answered vigorously enough. "I met this morn- 
 ing," he says, "with the following sentences, 'An 
 upholsterer now makes much handsomer furniture 
 than they made three hundred years ago. The march 
 of mind is discernible ia everything. Shall religion 
 then be the only thing that continues wholly unim- 
 proved ? ' What, ' ' he exclaims upon laying the paper 
 down, "does the march of mind then improve the 
 oaks of the forest? does it improve the mountains? 
 does it improve the waves of the sea? does it improve 
 the sun and stars? The assertion is silly enough. 
 Some things we improve and so we assume we can 
 improve and are to improve all things. As though it 
 follows that because we can mend a pen we can with 
 the same ease mend an eagle's wing. As though be- 
 cause nibbing the pen strengthens it, paring the 
 eagle 's wing must also strengthen that. People forget 
 what things are progressive and what unprogres- 
 sive. ' ' 
 
 I have quoted this passage from one of the authors 
 of "Guesses at Truth" because it starts an inquiry 
 which underlies this whole matter of improvements in 
 religion and which I mean to follow out with some 
 thoroughness at the present time. The question is, 
 what things does man improve, and what are the 
 things which attempting to improve he invariably per- 
 verts? "What are the things in which we may seek 
 and expect to push out into new and better paths, 
 
114 THE OLD PATHS 
 
 and what are the things in which the old paths show 
 the good way and the nearer we mouat up to their 
 begiiinuigs the purer the light they yield us? 
 
 In the first place there is this distinction to be made. 
 Those things are progressive in which knowledge is 
 handed down from one to another, but those things 
 ia which each one has to go back and begin at the be- 
 gkiniiig for himself have the least element of pro- 
 gressiveness. There are some thiags, my friends, 
 there are many thiags in which we begin where those 
 before us left off. Our fathers labored and we en- 
 tered iato their labors. What James "Watt did for 
 the steam engine, what Arkwright accomplished for 
 the sewing machine, every engineer and inventor 
 now-a-days takes as a part of his outfit and capital 
 stock in trade. "A child standing upon the shoulders 
 of a giant may easily see farther than the giant him- 
 self." The merest school boy now stands upon the 
 shoulders of Columbus who found a new continent. 
 The most ordinary anatomist sees farther than Har- 
 vey who discovered the circulation of the blood. Our 
 first lesson in astronomy is the last triumph of the 
 genius of Galileo, who asserted the revolution of the 
 earth upon its axis. "Where John Jacob Astor ended 
 in amassing wealth there "WiUiam Astor commenced. 
 So in physical science and in useful arts we are bom 
 inheritors of the wealth of the past. We have not to 
 break up the ground, prepare the soil and sow the 
 seed for ourselves. We have only to go out and fill 
 our bosoms with the ripened sheaves of others ' toil. 
 
THE OLD PATHS 115 
 
 The consequence is that in all such things we do 
 not inquire after the old paths. The new are better. 
 We improve upon the old. If we wish to talk about 
 such things, we know more about geography than St. 
 Paul, who was caught up into the third heaven and 
 saw and heard what his mortal lips could never utter, 
 but who thought the earth was no more than a belt 
 of land around the Mediterranean Sea. We know 
 more about natural history than the inspired Psalmist 
 of Israel, who saw God and the works of God's hands 
 and the shadow of God's glory in everything, in cloud 
 and sunlight, ia mountains and in forest, in all trees 
 and grasses and beasts and birds, but who could not 
 analyse a siagle plant or answer the first question 
 about classification. We know more about the solar 
 system than Turretia, the father of theology, whose 
 spirit had wings like a dove and knew well its own 
 nest beneath the shadow of the Almighty, but who 
 could not bring himself to believe in the axial revolu- 
 tion of the earth because he could not see how the 
 birds could find their way back to their nests if the 
 world were always revolving. Yes, in all these lines 
 of inherited knowledge there is progress. We are 
 wiser than our teachers. The newest ways are com- 
 monly the best ways. 
 
 But turn now to the other and higher kinds of 
 knowledge. Turn to those things where each one 
 must climb up to the original springs of Truth and 
 Beauty and hew out his own rocky cup and put his 
 lips to the crystal draught for himself. What has 
 
116 THE OLD PATHS 
 
 the march of mind done for sculpture since the crea- 
 tions of Phidias and Praxiteles? What advancement 
 has been made in paiating siaee Eaphael? "When is 
 our patent office likely to record a series of improve- 
 ments upon the architecture of the Parthenon or of 
 St. Mark's ia Venice? What orator have these two 
 thousand years produced able to contend for mastery 
 with Demosthenes, what philosopher qualified to sit 
 in the chair of Plato, what poet worthy to stand 
 on the pedestal of Homer? Are Shakespeare and 
 Dante, are Handel and Mozart, are Michael Angelo 
 and Correggio rapidly become outgrown and left be- 
 hind, or are they like the stars whose light we enjoy 
 but whose paths are higher than we moderns can walk 
 in? 
 
 There are fields, my friends, over which the much 
 vaunted reign of progress bears no sway. The march 
 of mind is not discernible here. Eather is progress 
 the other way. The water is purest at its fountains 
 among the mountains where it gushes cold from the 
 rock or bubbles up at the mossy spring. So the nearer 
 we mount up to the first ages and fresh sources of a 
 nation's life and birth the purer and more vigorous 
 and creative are its poets and orators and artists. 
 Accordingly in these things we inquire after the old 
 paths. We reverence the old masters. We study 
 the minds and copy the works of ancient genius. And 
 no man having possessed himself of the old straight- 
 way desireth the new, for, he saith, the old is better. 
 The reason for the absence of progress here is that in 
 
THE OLD PATHS 117 
 
 these tilings one age and one man cannot stand upon 
 tlie shoulders of another. Every one must stand on 
 his own feet. Advancement is a personal gift and no 
 man can leave the secret of his power to those who 
 come after him. Not that I think we derive nothing 
 from those who have gone before us in these paths. 
 We may and do derive much. But we may not as in 
 science and the useful arts we do, pour another's ripe 
 harvest bodily into our granary. Whatever we take 
 must be as inspiration forces, as seed thoughts to be 
 planted, germinated, and ripened in our own soil. 
 Each one must lay his own foundation, build his 
 structin-e and carry it to completion for himself. 
 And the real secret of his achievement, the wonder- 
 working gift of his genius, he must carry back to the 
 Giver an undivulged mystery. 
 
 I wish now to point out another and deeper line of 
 distinction between the things we may improve and 
 the things that do not admit of improvement. All the 
 things we may expect to improve are such as man's 
 natural faculties are sufficient to find out and carry 
 forward, but where the Lord God Almighty has shown 
 anything from heaven, there improvements are not 
 to be looked for. How to tiU the ground, how to de- 
 velop mines, how to build railroads, how to open 
 communication between land, how to establish manu- 
 factures and encourage them, how to buy and sell 
 merchandise, how we shall build our homes, increase 
 our property, educate our children — concerning the 
 multitude of such things as these God has not shown 
 
118 THE OLD PATHS 
 
 anything from heaven. He has not set His seal upon 
 this or that. He has left the means and methods of 
 these things to be discovered and developed by man's 
 own faculties. There is no "Thus saith the Lord" 
 here. We do not therefore follow the past in these 
 things. We open new and better pathways than those 
 of the past and we may expect those who come after 
 us to break roads into unknown territories smoother 
 and better than ours. 
 
 But how to light up a world and beautify it, how 
 to distribute the waters and gather them again in 
 one place, how to guide Arcturus and his sons and 
 bring forth the seasons in their order, how to create 
 life and endow it, how to plant hearing in the ear and 
 form the eye to vision, how to crystallize a diamond 
 and how to round a pearl, how to wing a butterfly, 
 how to fasten a leaf and how to color a rose, these are 
 things which God has spoken. And they remain right 
 where He left them. Time does not improve them. 
 The march of mind does not affect them. The banners 
 of progress do not draw them into its procession. 
 They continue the same from generation to genera- 
 tion. No improvement has been made upon the trees 
 since King David saw them clapping their hands and 
 praising God. The midnight skies were not more 
 sublime last night than when Abraham was led forth 
 into the Syrian night and bidden to turn his gaze 
 imto the countless stars like which his seed should be. 
 
 Now, my friends, in the light of these two tests of 
 progressiveness what shall we think about new dis- 
 
THE OLD PATHS 119 
 
 coveries and future improvements in religion? I 
 will speak frankly and say that to me they seem 
 simply impossible. I cannot look upon such discov- 
 eries as anythiag more than the will-o'-the-wisps of 
 visionary brains and fatuous desires. I cannot see 
 the slightest probability of our knowing more about 
 religion than our fathers and mothers knew or of the 
 next age knowing more than we. Look at it for your- 
 selves. Religion is a personal thing. It is like learn- 
 ing to talk or to walk. Each man, whatever the age 
 ia which he lives, has to begin at the beginning and 
 do the same things. A hundred generations of holy 
 men may have gone before him, but the way of holi- 
 ness is made none the shorter, none the easier for him 
 by that. He has to come to God, root out sin and do 
 the first things all the same. He has to begin exactly 
 where they began, climb every hill of difficulty and 
 go over the whole ground for himself. His part is 
 just the same as if he were the first man in the world. 
 In short, religion is emphatically one of those things 
 where each one must begin, go on and end for him- 
 self. 
 
 And then besides, religion is the gift of God from 
 heaven and therefore incapable of improvement. I 
 do not know why it is not quite as reasonable to 
 look in the eastern sky for a new sun or an improved 
 sun as to look for any other source of light and power 
 than Jesus Christ whom God has ordained. I do 
 not know why there is not as much likelihood of some- 
 one arising with a new way of bringing children into 
 
120 THE OLD PATHS 
 
 the world different from birth as of any different 
 entrance to heaven being discovered than that which 
 is given, "Ye must be bom again," for upon both 
 the Almighty has set His seal. So long as the human 
 heart is so constituted as to feel sorry for having 
 causelessly offended its best friend, and so long as a 
 full trustful self -surrender is the highest homage a 
 human soul can pay to any being, so long wiU peni- 
 tence and faith and consecration continue to be the 
 unchanging marks of a true religious mind. 
 
 I said there was no likelihood of our knowing more 
 about religion than those who first received it. I 
 ought to have said there is a strong probability of our 
 knowing less. Has it ever been the part of man to 
 improve God's gifts? Has it not always been man's 
 work to obscure the light of God? Look at the use 
 which Adam made of God's gift, look at the Jews 
 and observe their treatment of the perfect law of God 
 and the living Son of God, read the history of Chris- 
 tianity after the Apostles, and see how in every case 
 the knowledge of God has fared in this world like 
 a stream which first flows pure and crystal-like from 
 the mountains, grows turbid as it crosses the plain, 
 and finally loses itself in a vast morass. The same 
 fact appears if we look into our own individual lives 
 and the use we have made of God's gifts to us. How 
 many a man on this sanctuary floor feels that he was 
 nearer to God in his childhood than he is now ! How 
 many a one reads his own experience in those touch- 
 ing beautiful lines of "Wordsworth, 
 
THE OLD PATHS 121 
 
 "Trailing clouds of glory do we come 
 
 From God, who is our home; 
 Heaven lies about us in our infancy! 
 Shades of the prison-house begin to close 
 
 Upon the growing Boy, 
 But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, 
 
 He sees it in his joy; 
 The Youth, who daily farther from the east 
 Must travel, still is Nature's Priest, 
 
 And by the vision splendid 
 
 Is on his way attended; 
 At length the Man perceives it die away. 
 And fade into the light of common day. ' ' 
 
 Now my friends, if these things be true, if the 
 hopes of improvements in religion be deceiving and 
 impossible, if clearer light and fresher revelations 
 mnst be sought by going back to those who first re- 
 ceived it rather than by expecting some great thing 
 in the future, and if our true distinction be not in 
 making new discoveries in religion but in being faith- 
 ful custodians of the faith once delivered to the saints 
 and of preserving it in new lives of holy thought and 
 holy obedience, then we ought to know these things 
 and adjust our miads to the facts. I do not think 
 we can ever be strong tranquil men and women so 
 long as we live in expectation of some great thing to 
 be revealed. We shall be unsettled, impatient, tossed 
 to and fro by every new thing. We shall be iacapable 
 of fixing our minds upon ourselves and the practical 
 duties of a holy life. Truth will be nothing unless it 
 excite new hopes, religion nothing unless it open new 
 expectations. We shall live in an intemperate state, 
 
122 THE OLD PATHS 
 
 and like all intemperance onr excitements will ever 
 promise to make ns rich and ever end in making ns 
 poor. But let it once be settled in our minds for a 
 certainty that the circle of revealed truth is already 
 completed, that the door is positively closed against the 
 hoping for anything new until He shall come who 
 will come, and we shall begin at once to look at home 
 that we may be found in the right way and prepared 
 to go forth and meet Him at His coming. Sweeter 
 than music to our ears then will be words like these 
 of Jeremiah, ' ' Stand ye in the ways and see, and ask 
 for the old paths, where is the good way, .... and ye 
 shall find rest unto your souls." 
 
 Before sitting down I wish to express very briefly my 
 reasons for holding by the old paths. The old confessions 
 of faith, the old promises of God, the old Sabbath usages, 
 the old sacraments, the old hjrmns of devotion, the 
 old acts of piety, the old, old story of the Cross, — I 
 love this old way to heaven, my friends, for one thing 
 because it is old. I love these paths because they have 
 been beaten by so many feet of holy men who have 
 left their vestiges on the way. Think what a magnifi- 
 cent train of faithful witnesses, what a long proces- 
 sion of triumphant souls have defiled through 
 heaven's gate by this way — patriarchs and prophets, 
 holy apostles and palm-bearing martyrs, saintly men 
 and women and tender children bound together link 
 to link, life to life, generation to generation. As I 
 stand in the ways and gaze steadily upon this sublime 
 
THE OLD PATHS 123 
 
 spectacle of century after century moving through 
 the gates of the City by this way, the faces of a few 
 derisive skeptics and the transient gleam of a few 
 phosphorescent new lights melt from the field of 
 vision, and the voice of my soul and heart is, "This 
 is the train I would follow, this the path I would 
 walk in." 
 
 Dear friends, I know you will understand me when 
 I say that in the toil of the journey I sometimes feel 
 a sense of sympathy from the souls who have passed 
 this same way before me, sometimes receive a great 
 thrill of inspiration and hope as stooping down I find 
 the footprints of a Peter or a Mary, the vestiges of a 
 Fenelon or a Madam Guyon, traced upon the same 
 steps of faith and duty which I am now trying to 
 take. Nor will you think it strange if at the Holy 
 Table, next to the communion of the Master of the 
 Feast Himself, I own a joy and comfort from sitting 
 down with St. John and St. Paul, with St. Francis 
 and Savonarola, with Tauler and Melanchthon, with 
 Baxter and Boyle and Milton. Nor will it be deemed 
 incredible if I reverence the felt touch of nearer 
 spirits giving sacredness to the time, and confess that 
 these old paths are dearer to me because their every 
 step has been visited by the feet of a saintly mother 
 who long ago passed from my weeping child eyes into 
 the effulgence of God. 
 
 Again I love the old paths because they are not 
 man's paths but the paths of Almighty God. 
 
124 THE OLD PATHS 
 
 "The kingdom that I seek 
 Is Thine — so let the way 
 That leads to it be Thine, 
 Else I must surely stray." 
 
 I feel the truth of that, and it makes the old paths a 
 thousand times more precious to me that they are all 
 given and assured by God and our Saviour. It is not 
 much that the road is attractive and interesting if 
 you must travel every step of it with the constant 
 consciousness of mistake and the vague fear of final 
 loss. But to know that you possess a chart from Him 
 who cannot deceive or disappoint, to feel that your 
 destination is as certain as eternal truth and omnipo- 
 tence can make it, is a comfort like no other in this 
 world which shakes ever beneath our feet. I look 
 upon those other speculative paths across the meadows 
 and around by the marshes, where voices of the new 
 theology and the new science are calling us, and con- 
 sole myself with the thought that the future wiU 
 give time enough and light enough to learn where 
 they lead to. But in a world so dense with darkness 
 and thronged with dangers, where the time is so short 
 and the journey so momentous, I am thankful there 
 is one path made by God Himself with divine way- 
 marks at every turn, in which no traveler ever faUed 
 of reaching his desired destination. There was Moses 
 long ago. He walked in the old paths, he went by 
 the good way. He finished his course and chanted his 
 dying song, "The eternal God is thy refuge and un- 
 derneath are the everlasting arms." With that he 
 
THE OLD PATHS 125 
 
 fell asleep and God buried Mm. And lo, fifteen hun- 
 dred years afterward how safe he is, how happy, talk- 
 ing with Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration ! 
 
 Finally, I love the old paths because they are for 
 all mankind and are adapted to the feet of every 
 man and woman and child. I like. not that in re- 
 ligion which is suited only to the select few. I love 
 those things which, like the Apostles' Creed, the Ten 
 Commandments, the Lord's Prayer, the Cross of 
 Christ, contemplate all, in which all have a like in- 
 terest and may find a like satisfaction. I love to 
 breathe the common air, to live under the common 
 skies, to feel that I am one of the many children of a 
 common Father. I love this church the better because 
 it is not a class church or a church of one idea, but a 
 congregation of men and women and children in 
 which the rich and the poor, the high and the low 
 are mingled together, an image and representation of 
 humanity. And so I love these old paths to heaven 
 better because they put us in a common position as 
 members of the family of God. 
 
 There is no misty metaphysie here reqmring pe- 
 culiar temperaments to receive it and artificial glasses 
 to penetrate it. There is no catering to culture and 
 intellectualism and the desire to climb up to the skies 
 by some esoteric staircase discernible only by the 
 clever few. Simple as the highest things always are, 
 nearer to the heart than to the head as is everything 
 divine, bowing themselves down where the feeblest 
 intellect can see them and a little child can walk in 
 
126 THE OLD PATHS 
 
 them and the whole family of men can come up to 
 heaven together in them, such are the old paths on 
 which the light of God's face ever falls and the call 
 of the Saviour's voice ever sounds and the travelers 
 find rest for their souls. 
 
 Here I pause. Your time and thought have been 
 taken up this morning, my friends, with an examina- 
 tion of the grounds for expecting future improve- 
 ments in religion. But let us never forget that there 
 is a sense in which we may improve religion, just as 
 there is a sense in which we may be said to improve 
 the sun and the sea and the forests and the lightning, 
 not in themselves but ia their relations to us. We 
 may place ourselves more fully under the power of 
 the sun. We may make ourselves more familiar with 
 the forests. We may explore the sea and train the 
 lightning. So we may improve religion by giving it 
 larger place in our thoughts, fuller control of our 
 actions, more enthusiastic homage of our lives. We 
 may keep the old paths more faithfully, reverence 
 them more heartily, walk in them more holily, and 
 do more toward bringing others into the good way 
 where they shall find rest for their souls. 
 
STEENGTHENING THE THINGS WHICH 
 
 REMAIN. 
 
 "Strengthen the things which remain." Eevelation 3: 2. 
 
 ' ' Strengthen the things which remain. ' ' Make the 
 most of what is left. There is more left than you 
 thiak. Things are never so bad as they seem to one 
 who has just been defeated and denuded. In losing 
 what he cares for most he seems to himself to have lost 
 all. Perhaps he has not even lost the best. Perhaps 
 his misfortune will prove his advantage while it opens 
 his eyes to unappreciated possessions. Many a man 
 has learned by a great loss the value of other things 
 he had too lightly esteemed. The taking away of his 
 idol has removed the scales from his eyes and given 
 him a newer, larger outlook. It was a crushing blow 
 to the disciples of Jesus when that visible companion- 
 ship with the Master on which they had staked their 
 all was disrupted by His telling them at the Last 
 Supper, "I must go away and leave you, and whither 
 I go ye cannot come." They were panic-stricken. 
 They were sure they had lost everything. They 
 learned afterwards that their seeming loss was a sub- 
 stantial gain. 
 
 There are two ways of taking losses. One way is 
 to hang over what is gone and indulge in pathetic 
 plaints over the irrecoverable. There are men and 
 
 Preached in the First Presbyterian Church, Binghamton, 1904. 
 
 127 
 
128 THE THINGS THAT REMAIN 
 
 women whose life has resolved itself into a mournful 
 retrospect. They think only of what is lost. They 
 live among the graves and lodge beneath the monu- 
 ments. "We hear their melancholy voice in the lines 
 of the poet. 
 
 "O for the touch of a vanished hand, 
 And the sound of a voice that is still ! 
 Break, break, break. 
 
 At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! 
 But the tender grace of a day that is dead 
 Will never come back to me. ' ' 
 
 The other method of meeting losses is to take the 
 eyes off what is gone and fix the mind upon what 
 remains. When Jeremy Taylor was sold out of house 
 and home and his family were driven into the streets 
 he could still say, ""What now? Let me look about 
 me. They have left me the sun and moon, a loving 
 wife and many friends. They have not taken away, 
 unless I list, my merry countenance, cheerful spirit 
 and good conscience. They have left me the provi- 
 dence of God, the promises of the Gospel and the 
 hope of heaven. I stiU eat and drink, sleep and 
 wake, read and meditate. And having so many causes 
 of joy, and so great, I must be very much in love with 
 sorrow and peevishness if I choose to sit down on 
 my little handful of thorns." A very good illustra- 
 tion of the principle commended to us in the text, 
 "Strengthen the things which remaia." 
 
 I should like to take this principle for a moment 
 
THE THINGS THAT REMAIN 129 
 
 into the sphere of Chiu-ch life and religious thought. 
 "We have lost some things here in twenty-five years. 
 The authority of the Bible, the reverence for creeds, 
 the practice of church-going and confidence m prayer 
 are not what they once were. Changes have taken 
 place and are still going on in men's conceptions of 
 religion and habits of religion. Those of us who are 
 still in middle life can look back and see changes 
 some of which we cannot but feel are for the worse. 
 There is a loss of faith, a loss of conviction of sin, a 
 loss of grip upon eternal realities. Things dear to 
 the religious consciousness and once accepted as fixed 
 facts are now challenged by new scientific and critical 
 methods. There is a disturbing destroying element in 
 the air. We all feel it in greater or less degree, for 
 we are all one family and breathe the same atmos- 
 phere. 
 
 What are we to do? There are three things, one 
 or other of which some of us are tempted to do. Some 
 are tempted to take the attitude of unintelligent pro- 
 test against all new ideas that come from the side of 
 science and criticism. They would treat all new truth 
 as Caliph Omar treated the library of Alexandria. 
 He looked at the magnificent collection of books a 
 few moment and then said, "If these books agree with 
 the Koran they are unnecessary, if they disagree with 
 the Koran they are lies ; have them all out and bum 
 them up." 
 
 Others are tempted to take the attitude of complete 
 surrender. They feel a secret pleasure in seeing 
 
130 THE THINGS THAT REMAIN 
 
 what never was very congenial to them assaulted. 
 "Ring in the new, ring out the old, we never did 
 think much of it." 
 
 There is a third class who are simply afraid, afraid 
 of thought and investigation, afraid they wiU have 
 to give up everything, afraid to hold on and afraid 
 to let go, afraid most of all of their own fears. Be- 
 cause they are troubled they think the foundations 
 of the house must be settling. They make their own 
 fears an argument agaiast the ground of their faith. 
 
 My friends, there is a better way than to follow 
 any one of these courses. To stop investigation is 
 impossible and undesirable, to be afraid of it is im- 
 worthy, to welcome it as a destructive agency is im- 
 pious. But to look about and see what remains and 
 use new discoveries to strengthen what cannot be 
 shaken is wise and recuperative. There are certain 
 things that remain unshaken. The Bible remains, the 
 revelation of God in Jesus Christ remains, the death- 
 less soul remains, the truth of worship and reality of 
 spiritual intercourse remain, right and wrong, truth 
 and duty, time and eternity, the great facts of re- 
 ligion aU remain. No man need be panic-stricken 
 and look out tremblingly to the setting sun as if the 
 glory of Christianity had departed. It is for every- 
 one who knows in whom he believes to turn his eyes 
 to the east and rising sun, and be strong in the Lord. 
 We need not stand shivering in the face of every an- 
 nouncement of criticism as if it were going to take 
 something from the Bible and from God. All new 
 
THE THINGS THAT REMAIN 131 
 
 discoveries so far as they are true are designed in 
 God's providence to interpret the Bible and bring out 
 its hidden truths. I was asked the other day to join 
 a league organized in New Tork City to defend the 
 Bible against the encroachments of modern thought. 
 1 declined to take part in the movement. I will not 
 take the attitude of opposition to investigation. Nor 
 will I take the attitude of surrender. I wUl take the 
 attitude of assimilation. I wiU stand on the immov- 
 able rock of what I know by inward experience of 
 its truth, and then I will inquire how these new dis- 
 coveries confirm, increase and enrich the body of truth 
 which I know. I wiU strengthen the things which 
 remaui. I will believe them more heartily, stand on 
 them more firmly, obey them more loyally, and I will 
 seek to make the new things enhance the riches of 
 the old. 
 
 Brethren, it is a mistake to think the Bible is in 
 danger because it is being investigated. It is a mis- 
 take to think that faith is departing because it re- 
 quires a struggle to keep it. Life, true life, is a 
 struggle on every side of it. Constant, unflinching 
 effort is the price of keeping anything that is worth 
 keeping. To keep the old and recognize the new, to 
 prove all things and hold fast that which is good, to 
 gather our faith in and concentrate it upon what can- 
 not be shaken, to strike its roots deeper and deeper 
 in God and His redemption in Jesus Christ by every 
 day's fellowship with Him, this is certainly a life- 
 long intellectual and moral struggle. But the effect 
 
132 THE THINGS THAT REMAIN 
 
 is growing strength, increasing confidence, deepeniag 
 peace ; and the end is a crown of life. 
 
 Secondly, I should like to take the principle, 
 " Strengthen the things which remain," into the sphere 
 of the family. Here, too, new ideas are coming in and 
 there are not wanting signs that give cause for 
 anxiety. Few thinking persons can be blind to the 
 increasing and shameful dissolution of domestic ties. 
 That one out of every eight or ten marriages ends in 
 a divorce court is something to make everyone pause 
 who cherishes the idea of the home as the basis of 
 civilization and bond of moral society. The ideas 
 that some advanced teachers are putting forward, that 
 marriage is not a permanent union but only a dis- 
 soluble contract, that love is not a divine gift but 
 only self-interested gratification, that the birth of 
 children is a necessary inconvenience to be checked 
 as far as possible, that "a large family is almost a 
 disgrace, a proper object of sneer and scorn," that 
 the whole root of the family is a mere physical rela- 
 tion, and that the idea of a happy indissoluble union 
 of husband and wife and children embracing the 
 whole life in all its relations is a baseless dream 
 and silly sentiment, all this is nothing less than a 
 complete abandonment of the divine principles on 
 which the Christian family rests and a miserable re- 
 lapse into paganism. 
 
 I am thankful that we may hope that these ideas 
 have not yet leavened American family life and that 
 the majority of our people still cling tenaciously to the 
 
THE THINGS THAT REMAIN 133 
 
 American, home with its beautiful and happy influ- 
 ences. But I cannot disguise the fact that these 
 ideas are making progress among us, and that it is 
 not a moment too soon to strengthen the things that 
 remain. I am glad that our Church in General As- 
 sembly has undertaken to strengthen the marriage 
 bond by forbidding her ministers to solemnize the 
 marriage of any divorced person or persons except 
 where the divorce has been obtained for causes recog- 
 nized in the Scriptures and the standards of our 
 Church as sufSeient. Though it cannot prevent mar- 
 riage by civil officers, the fact that thirteen prin- 
 cipal Christian bodies are now working together to 
 establish in their practice the stringent Scriptural 
 rule for divorce, will certainly have a tendency to 
 deter many persons from seeking reparation for light 
 or unworthy reasons. It will put a stigma on persons 
 divorced for insufficient causes and on marriages 
 contracted with such persons. 
 
 But, dear friends, prohibition is not enough. "We 
 shall never eradicate these evils and strengthen the 
 things which remain by mere repression. Not until 
 we come back to the divine idea of the family and 
 see its loveliness and feel its preciousness as God cre- 
 ated it shall we make the Christian home what it 
 ought to be. The earthly family was created to be 
 an image of the heavenly. In the home on earth, in 
 the love of husband and wife, of parent and children, 
 were to be reflected the love and blessedness of the 
 Father's Home in Heaven. The home was meant 
 
134 THE THINGS THAT REMAIN 
 
 to be a ladder stretching up toward the great Father- 
 heart of God, whereon angels of aspiration should 
 ascend from earth and angels of light and invitation 
 should descend from heaven. 
 
 Brethren, let us try to make our homes what home 
 was meant to be and what it was to most of us in 
 our childhood, the embodiment of all that was pure 
 and good and dear and holy, a charmed circle of 
 mutual affection and spiritual harmony of which the 
 love of God and worship of God was the bond and 
 regulating power, not perfect certainly, not without 
 jarring notes and breaks in the music, but seeing per- 
 fection, getting farther and farther away from breaks 
 and discords and ever more reaching up toward the 
 full harmony and perfect peace of the Home on high. 
 
 But again, I should like to take the principle 
 "Strengthen the things which remain" into the 
 sphere of the nation. It was a long time before I 
 came to see that the State, like the Church and the 
 Family, was a divine institution. I used to think 
 that the State was a human organization, that it be- 
 longed to the world and that to be political was to be 
 worldly. When I learned from the Old Testament 
 that the nation is not a mere vohmtary association 
 of people but a creation of God, and that the ruler 
 of the nation is not merely a representative of the 
 people but a minister of God to execute a trust accord- 
 ing to the will of God, the whole aspect of the nation 
 and of service of the nation was changed to me. I saw 
 that patriotism was not merely loyalty to the nation 
 
THE THINGS THAT REMAIN 135 
 
 but loyalty to God. I saw that political duties, if 
 performed as they ought to be, were services to God. 
 These truths were brought home to me with reveal- 
 ing power by that struggle for the iutegrity of this 
 nation forty years ago which we are about to com- 
 memorate by once more payiag our homage to its 
 fallen heroes and strewing flowers of spring upon 
 their resting places. My friends, the men who went 
 forth into that struggle were not only patriotic and 
 brave and daring, they were servants of God doing 
 and suffering the will of God. They were martyrs as 
 truly as Stephen and Polycarp and Huss were mar- 
 tyrs. They gave their lives for the preservation of a 
 divine institution. They offered themselves to 
 strengthen the things that remained when the things 
 that remained were seemingly few and on the brink 
 of destruction. They sacrificed aU they had, home, 
 happiness, life itself, to preserve for us and for the 
 generations that shall come after us a precious gift 
 of God. We owe them all living tributes of sacred 
 and tender recollection. More than this, we owe it 
 to them to see to it that their dying was not in vain, 
 that their work and sacrifice for the nation follows 
 them. Strewing flowers on their graves is a hollow 
 mockery unless at the same time their heroic ex- 
 ample inspires us to a stronger love of our country, 
 to a higher estimation of its divine blood-baptized 
 institutions, and to a determined purpose to preserve 
 and strengthen the things that remain. O, if there 
 could be on this coming Memorial Day a solemn con- 
 
136 THE THINGS THAT EEMAIN 
 
 secration of all the people of this Eepublie to expel 
 from their individual lives and from the body politic 
 all the destroying influences of graft, bribery, ex- 
 travagance, sensuality, polygamy, and to establish 
 and enforce the great principles of liberty, equality, 
 loyalty to law and to God on which the nation was 
 founded, that would be to honor the dead and serve 
 the country in deed and in truth. 
 
 We are just now witnessing a humiliating spec- 
 tacle, a great strike precipitated upon the community 
 for no other reason but to compel a corporation to 
 discharge a faithful servant of many years and to 
 deprive that man of his natural right to earn his 
 living by labor. There could hardly be a more fla- 
 grant violation of the fundamental principle of our 
 nation. The fundamental principle of this nation 
 as laid down in the Declaration of Independence is 
 that all men are created equal and are endowed by 
 their Creator with certain inalienable rights, among 
 which are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. 
 Of course it is not meant that aU men are equal in 
 stature, capacity, wealth, power or anything of that 
 kind. But it is meant that all man have an equal right 
 to live their lives in their own way, to make the best 
 use they can of their capacities and opportunities, 
 and to enjoy the fruits of their industry vdthout re- 
 straint or interference from any other individual or 
 class of individuals. That principle ought to be main- 
 tained throughout the length and breadth of this 
 land. And no love of our own ease or anxiety for our 
 
THE THINGS THAT REMAIN 137 
 
 pecuniary interests or desire for votes ought to be 
 allowed to hinder its maintenance a moment. The 
 people of this country ought to stand upright and 
 insist with firm united front that the principle of 
 individual liberty and equality of right shall be 
 everywhere fearlessly and strictly enforced. So shall 
 we strengthen the things which remain and save our- 
 selves from the necessity of establishing them by the 
 dreadful ordeal of civil war. 
 
 Before closing I should like to take our thought 
 for one moment into the very heart of individual life 
 and experience. I think the most regretful things 
 we have to remember are the things we might have 
 done but failed to do. The dear heart in the home we 
 might have gladdened by an act of love and tender- 
 ness now and then, the bitter cups beyond the home 
 we might have sweetened by little acts of kindness 
 here and there, the wrongs we might have righted, 
 the tears we might have wiped away, the sins we 
 might have hidden, these are things that sadden the 
 memory of our past lives. 
 
 You remember perhaps the boy in Mrs. Hemans' 
 poem who says, ' ' while my brother with me played, 
 would that I had loved him more ! " He is told that 
 his brother is now happy in heaven, but that only 
 opens his wound wider and deepens his anguished 
 cry, "0 while my brother with me played, would 
 that I had loved him more!" The truest word to 
 have spoken to that child would have been, "Re- 
 member you have other brothers, sisters too, still left 
 
138 THE THINGS THAT REMAIN 
 
 on earth, for whom you will feel the same regret when 
 they are gone. Try to love them more now." And 
 the truest word to speak to us men and women who 
 are ready to sink in despair at the memory of our 
 shortcomings toward those we can no longer help, is 
 that there are others who may still be helped. There 
 are other needy you may succor, other wrongs you 
 may right, other sorrows you may heal, other sins 
 you may hide. Turn your regret for the past into 
 present love and present duty. "Strengthen the 
 things which remain." 
 
JESUS HIDING HIS PACE. 
 
 "Jesus stooped down, and with Ms finger wrote on the 
 ground. ' ' St. John 8 : 6. 
 
 It was a morning hour in the temple of Jerusalem. 
 Jesus had passed the night where He spent so many 
 of His night hours, imder the starry skies closeted 
 with God among the olive trees. "With the break of 
 day He returned to His labors of love in the city 
 and sat down in the temple to teach and heal the 
 people who came flocking to Him even at that early 
 hour. He had just begun His discourse when into the 
 temple square issued a noisy party of scribes and 
 Pharisees, pulling and pushing before them an un- 
 veiled, dishevelled, terror-stricken woman. She had 
 been discovered during the night in a flagrant viola- 
 tion of her marriage vow, and they were dragging 
 her fresh from the shame of detection into the pres- 
 ence of Jesus to get His judgment upon her. Press- 
 ing boldly through the assembly which He was ad- 
 dressing, they sat their trembling prisoner before 
 Him and asked with a great show of outraged purity, 
 "Teacher, this woman was taken in the very act of 
 sinning. Now Moses in the law charged us that such 
 should be stoned. "What is your opinion?" 
 
 It was like a foul irruption of sewage into a pure 
 stream. What a moment ago had been a holy place 
 
 Preached in the First Presbyterian Church, Binghamton, 1905. 
 
 139 
 
140 JESUS HIDING HIS FACE 
 
 is now reeking with sensual curiosity, cold-blooded 
 indelicacy, brutality and hypocrisy. The woman, as 
 any woman in the East ttaveiled and exposed before 
 a crowd of men would naturally be, is iu a state of 
 awful torture. Besides, the whole contrivance is 
 nothing but a malicious trap to catch Jesus' feet and 
 overthrow Him. They know how compassionately 
 He has ever treated the fallen, pitying those whom 
 others scorned, encouraging those whom others crush- 
 ed, eating with sinners and letting a woman of the 
 street bathe His feet with her tears and wipe them 
 with her hair. Now we have caught Him, is their 
 thought. If He shall say "let the poor woman go 
 free," we will arraign Him for setting at naught the 
 law of Moses. If He shall say "Go stone the guilty 
 thing accord to the Mosaic law," we shall have Him 
 belying His compassion and we will charge Him with 
 invading the prerogative of the Koman Governor, 
 who alone has authority to condemn persons to death. 
 Which of these horns of their cunningly devised 
 dilemma does Jesus take ? He takes neither one. He 
 simply drops down on His knee, and, like one who 
 hears not, sees not, heeds not, He writes with His 
 finger on the ground. The accusers watch Him with 
 gleeful looks, as if His downcast face and silent actiug 
 were a confession that He was trapped and could not 
 escape. They proceed to urge their question. They 
 lay their hands on His shoulders and insist on an 
 answer, and an answer they suddenly get. Eaising 
 His holy head from the ground one moment, Jesus 
 
JESUS HIDING HIS FACE 141 
 
 utters a word which strikes them like an arrow from 
 the throne of God. ' ' The one among you who is with- 
 out sin himself, let him first cast a stone at her." 
 
 Perhaps the woman shivers in expectation of that 
 first stone. But it is never thrown. Everyone waits 
 for someone else to lead. No one is willing to take 
 the risk of having his past life exposed by the clair- 
 voyance of Jesus. The older men feel a strong in- 
 clination to withdraw, and begin to edge their way out 
 through the crowd. And the younger men, glancing 
 at each other with cowed faces, slink out one after 
 another. Jesus, who has stooped down again and is 
 tracing letters on the ground, lets them all go out 
 vsdthout looking up. The last one gone. He raises His 
 head and turning His holy tender eye upon the 
 woman asks, "Where are those thine accusers? Did 
 no man cast a stone at thee ? " "No one. Lord, ' ' is the 
 reply. "Neither shall I. Go, repent, and sin no 
 more. ' ' 
 
 This memorable story has been the subject of more 
 discussion than almost any passage in the Gospel. 
 It is wholly omitted from some ancient manuscripts 
 and versions. Many eminent Fathers rejected it as 
 dangerous in its teaching. I notice that the revisers 
 of the New Testament have put brackets around it as 
 if it were an unsafe spot which needed to be railed 
 off. But though the critical evidence against it were 
 much stronger than it is, its authenticity would de- 
 fend itself. There are some passages in the Bible 
 which we know are genuine and divine because no 
 
142 JESUS HIDING HIS FACE 
 
 mind of man could have conceived them or hand of 
 man invented them. This is one of them. There is 
 here an exhibition of divine feeling, divine penetra- 
 tion and divine dealing so far above man's power to 
 manifest that it is evidently declared by its own super- 
 human character to be a message from God and the 
 penitent's gospel. 
 
 Coming now to the story itself, what a startling 
 window is here opened into Jesus' inner nature and 
 personal feeling. I shall never forget the emotion 
 which I experienced when the meaning of Jesus' 
 stooping down was first explained to me. I was read- 
 ing a book, famous a few years ago, entitled "Ecce 
 Homo." Why did Jesus stoop down to write on the 
 ground? Why did He not stand and look them all 
 full in the face 1 1 had never asked myself this ques- 
 tion distinctly. I thought He stooped down perhaps 
 to show that he paid no attention to them. Professor 
 Seeley said Jesus was ashamed, so ashamed that He 
 instinctively stooped down to hide His blushing face. 
 He said the foul scene fell on the chastity of His pure 
 feeling so painfully that He had no eyes to look up. 
 He could not meet the eye of the crowd, the eye of 
 the accusers, least of all perhaps at that moment the 
 eye of the woman. And in His burning suffering 
 sensibility He stooped down to hide His crimsoned 
 face and wrote on the groimd. I felt the truth of the 
 explanation the moment I read it. And what a dis- 
 closure it was to me of Jesus' inner nature and feel- 
 ing! I was like a child for the first time he sees 
 
JESUS HIDING HIS FACE 143 
 
 his father in an agony of deep emotion. I saw my 
 Saviour in a new and affecting aspect. My heart 
 shook and I was moved to fall at His feet. 
 
 My friends, the expression which comes to my lips 
 is, How little we know about this Saviour of ours yet ! 
 We know something about His words and works. We 
 have apprehended a little of His outward life. But 
 there is a whole sphere of His being which we have 
 not yet entered, the sphere of His inward emotion. 
 His pent-up sensibilities. There are passages of 
 Jesus ' life before which I am like a person looking into 
 a dark room. Once He had a struggle with temptation 
 in the wilderness, once He sighed, once He groaned 
 in spirit, twice He wept, once He exclaimed, "Now 
 is my soul troubled, and what shall I say," once He 
 fell down on His face on the ground in an agony so 
 intense that discolored drops resembling blood exuded 
 from His brow. These are moral mysteries, and mys- 
 teries they will remain imtil we see Him face to face. 
 And yet these glimpses of Jesus' moral sensibility 
 are given us because they are fraught with impres- 
 sions important for us to receive. 
 
 We have then this fact to consider, that Jesus feels 
 toward every evil of us men and women according to 
 its nature. He loathes what is disgusting in us, hates 
 what is cruel, grieves over what is wrong in us, is 
 ashamed of what is low in us, shudders at what is 
 polluting and awful in us. He gathers up into His 
 own soul the representative acts of us all. He bears 
 our sins, not merely their penalty, but the very feel- 
 
144 JESUS HIDING HIS FACE 
 
 ing and heartache of them. In a sense deeper than 
 we ever read into the words, He is wounded by our 
 transgressions and bruised by our iniquities. Every 
 evil thing He touches burns into His sensitive spirit 
 like a hot iron into an infant's hand. The trouble 
 with us men is that we are so bronzed over with sin 
 that we are never duly shocked by its baseness or 
 hurt by its wrong. It takes purity to feel impurity, 
 it takes honor to suffer shame, it takes sinlessness to 
 recoil from defilement. And Jesus Christ is perfect 
 sinlessness, perfect purity, perfect moral loveliness. 
 
 when I think of Him going about in Judaea and 
 Galilee with that divine heart of His, the most sen- 
 sitive that ever beat in a human breast, because the 
 most pure, when I think of Him bending over every 
 one of us all day long in our varying acts and con- 
 ditions of sin and shame, it seems to me that He must 
 often suffer throes of painful sensibility of which we 
 never think. Besides, Jesus Christ is love, and love 
 is a capacity for suffering sensibility. For a Being 
 of infinite purity to love, really to love men and wo- 
 men like us, is to bear a burden of inexpressible pain 
 and sorrow. Why did the King of Israel cover His 
 face with his hands and burst into that agony of 
 woe, ' ' Absalom, my son, my son ! "Would God I had 
 died for thee, Absalom, my son, my son ! " ? "Why 
 did that mother fall down the other day and die of 
 a broken heart at the news of her daughter's disgrace? 
 Love did it, love contemplating the sin and woe of its 
 object. And Jesus Christ is infinite love, love of God, 
 
JESUS HIDING HIS PACE 145 
 
 love of man in one, pouring itself out on sinful woeful 
 objects. Do you wonder that He sighs and groans and 
 weeps and stoops down to hide His averted face ? 
 
 Here I pause to ask a question. I ask you, I ask 
 myself, have we any of this suffering sensitiveness 
 to evil? Have we even a little of the Master's sense 
 of shrinking shame in the presence of impurity, in- 
 delicacy and ribaldry ? "We may easily know, we can- 
 not help knowing. There are novelists and play- 
 writers who are continually doing what these Phari- 
 sees were engaged in, dragging some unseemly sight 
 into the public gaze and making their pages purvey- 
 ors for lickerish mouths and salacious lips. If we 
 have Jesus' holy sensitiveness to what is gross and 
 sensual there will be entertainments which we shall 
 not be able to attend without stoopiug down and 
 writing on the ground. There will be books which 
 we cannot read and look up into any pure eye, least 
 of aU the divine. There will be conversations which 
 we shall not be able to participate in without faces 
 burning and blushing with pain. 
 
 Another feature of this story which impresses me 
 is the way in which Jesus deals with the sinner. Look 
 at these robed and sanctimonious citizens haling a 
 trembling woman to judgment. Not one of them is 
 exempt from some form of the same sin which she has 
 committed. Not one of them but ought to be on his 
 knees before a merciful God seeking forgiveness for 
 his own iniquities. Besides, it is their own sister, 
 their own flesh and blood. Not one of them but 
 
146 JESUS HIDING HIS FACE 
 
 ought to be touched with sympathy for her and 
 kindled with desire for her restoration. But look at 
 them. They have less feeling than the stones they 
 are standing upon. They drag her into the presence 
 of infinite Purity and propose stoning her to death, a 
 pimishment that has been obsolete for ages. They 
 go over the whole shameful recital and hold her up 
 for public inspection like a filthy garment. They 
 make a tableau of her and exploit her sin for a dem- 
 onstration in casuistry in order to entrap the world's 
 Redeemer. "Let us fall now into the hand of the 
 
 Lord ; and let me not fall into the hand of 
 
 man, ' ' said David. It is amazing how hard and piti- 
 less sinners can be upon sinners. "Why, if the people 
 of this city were to be judged by one another I doubt 
 if one would escape condemnation. 
 
 Thank heaven there is One who pities, One who 
 feels the sin of an unchaste woman as if she were His 
 own sister. One whose prompting is not to condemn 
 but to save. One whose verdict upon her, upon you 
 and me if we will hear it, is, as George Matheson 
 words it, "You are black but I send you toward the 
 sun. You are guilty but I bury your yesterday. You 
 are unworthy to live but you shall live to be worthy. 
 I condemn you and I absolve you. I blame your past 
 and I wipe it out forever. You will be judged by 
 deeds to come, not by departed days. Go and sin no 
 more. ' ' 
 
 Here I pause again to ask, have you and I any of 
 this sympathy and hope for the fallen? How is it 
 
JESUS HIDING HIS PACE 147 
 
 when a person among us is suspected of going astray ? 
 Do people, good Christian people, lock the matter 
 right up in their own breasts and study how to recover 
 the erring one? Or de they oftener than not go out 
 among the neighbors with the story and roll it under 
 their tongues as a sweet morsel and dissect it like 
 cold-blooded anatomists and watch the suspected one 
 for new evidences of frailty? Pity it is that there 
 should be so little real sheltering protecting love 
 among people whose sins all need covering. Pity that 
 it should be so easy in this dark world for the stand- 
 ing to fall and so hard for the fallen to rise. 
 
 And we have the keys of the kingdom of heaven. 
 We have it in our power by our looks and words and 
 acts of recognition and encouragement to loose those 
 who are bound from their condemnation and despair. 
 And we have it m our power by our averted looks 
 and hard condemning thoughts to bind those who 
 have gone wrong with chains ten times stronger than 
 their own sins. All about us are persons whom we 
 are setting free by imparting to them our conviction 
 that there is forgiveness for them to seek, a new life 
 for them to live and a pure heaven for them to gain. 
 Or else about us are persons whom we are crowding 
 down from one depth of sia and despair to another 
 by making them feel that there is no chance for the 
 like of them, no present release, no future possibili- 
 ties. 
 
 Some persons have been tempted to read this story 
 out of the Gospel because they say the sinning woman 
 
148 JESUS HIDING HIS FACE 
 
 is let off so easily. They think her sia ought to have 
 been condemned in round terms and she ought to have 
 been reminded of what she deserved even though her 
 accusers could throw no stones against her. I cannot 
 think that such persons have ever really read the story 
 and understood how the woman is let off. No man or 
 woman who has ever stood where this woman stood, 
 after her accusers were gone, alone with Jesus, wiU 
 imagine that she was let off without a pricked con- 
 science and penitent heart. Left alone with Jesus! 
 So long as the Pharisees are around charging and 
 condemning her I seem to hear her saying to herself, 
 ' ' They are as bad, they are as bad. ' ' But when she is 
 alone face to face with stainless Purity how her at- 
 titude changes ! She ceases at once measuring herself 
 by others. She sees herself in the light of God. It 
 is Judgment Day for her. how the waves of her 
 past guilt and shame rise over her submerged soul! 
 How she longs for her lost purity! Then to her, all 
 convicted of sin and humbled in the dust for her 
 transgression, Jesus speaks His sin-absolving, hope- 
 giving word, "Go, be free, and sin no more." What 
 became of the woman we do not know, but we may be 
 sure that to her dying day she never remembered 
 without gratitude and tears the morning when she 
 stood alone with Jesus in the courts of the Lord. 
 
 I will mention one other feature of this interesting 
 story, and that is the lesson of humility and self- 
 examination which it reads to all of us who are seek- 
 ing to reform others and purify society. Perhaps 
 
JESUS HIDING HIS PACE 149 
 
 these Pharisees thought they were doing society a 
 service by dragging this woman before Jesus, but 
 they soon learned there was little real difference be- 
 tween themselves and their prisoner, and that a pri- 
 mary service to society for them to perform lay in 
 their own hearts and lives. "He that is without sin 
 among you, let him first cast a stone at her." My 
 friends, if we feel that we are standing on a platform 
 of superiority over others and are entitled to ap- 
 proach the unfortunate in the "I am better than 
 thou" spirit, then we are become the Pharisees and 
 lie under the challenge, "He that is without sin 
 among you." I do not think that any person has any 
 right or power to do anything for the most degraded 
 man or woman except in a spirit of love and lowli- 
 ness. In dealing with a drunkard for example, you 
 and I have no right to look down upon him and lay 
 the lash of condemnation upon his sia as if we were 
 his moral superiors. Suppose you and I never have 
 fallen victims to intemperance. Suppose we have al- 
 ways been surrounded by such elevating conditions 
 in life that the temptation to drink has never really 
 assailed us. But have we not inwardly our own guilt 
 and iniquity great as this, and do we know where we 
 should be now outwardly if we had lived in the en- 
 vironment in which many are living and which is 
 a constant force of gravity to drag them down? 
 
 And who is responsible for the debasing environ- 
 ment? "Whose is the guilt of creating and upholding 
 social conditions which as good as compel the poor to 
 
150 JESUS HIDING HIS FACE 
 
 be not only poor but dissolute, criminal and besotted? 
 Has God made this mire in which men and women are 
 livrag and bidden them wallow and flounder in it? 
 No, my friends, God never made it. We have done 
 it. Know it well, we are guilty. Society is guilty. 
 The rich are responsible for the sins of the poor. The 
 respectable are responsible for the sins of those whose 
 respect is gone. You and I are sharers in the down- 
 fall of men and women in this city. And not until 
 we have improved the conditions of the poor and 
 criminal classes, not until we have placed within their 
 reach the physical advantages and rational enjoy- 
 ments which have saved us from degradation, can we 
 cast a single stone in the sight of Jesus Christ at any 
 thief or drunkard or harlot. 
 
 I rejoice that thoughtful men and women both in 
 the Church and out of it are beginning to realize 
 this. We are beginning to grasp the fact that human 
 lives cannot be isolated from one another, but all are 
 bound up in the human race. We are aU. partners 
 without our choice in each other's health and sickness, 
 in each other's joy and sorrow, in each other's wisdom 
 and folly, in each other's righteousness and wicked- 
 ness. Other men are making life blessed or sad for 
 us. We are making life blessed or sad for others. 
 There is a solidarity of the human race. The highest 
 and the lowest, the richest and the poorest, the best 
 and the worst are bound together in an inseparable 
 partnership. We are keepers of one another. 
 
 Brethren, I invite you to enter this larger relation- 
 
JESUS HIDING HIS FACE 151 
 
 ship and closer fellowship with humanity. I invite 
 you to walk in the light of this higher vision. I in- 
 vite you to welcome this nobler destiny and richer 
 partnership with your brother men and Elder Brother 
 Christ. For those who will not do this, who will only 
 seek their own things in their own selfish way, there 
 is a sure condemnation. To those who see the face of 
 truth and have her beauty revealed to them she be- 
 comes a judge that 
 
 "Parts the goats upon the left hand and the sheep upon the 
 right — 
 And the choice goes by forever 'twixt that darkness and that 
 Ught." 
 
CONTENTMENT. 
 
 "I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be 
 content." PMlippians 4: 11. 
 
 Was the lesson worth the learning ? Is contentment 
 always so desirable a thing 1 Ought one to be content 
 in whatever state he is? Is it so that heights are 
 climbed and garlands plucked? One of Charles 
 Kingsley's best utterances was in praise of discon- 
 tent. When our Lord said, "Blessed are they that 
 hunger and thirst," He made discontent a beatitude. 
 Full of the cries of a sublime discontent are David's 
 Psalms, St. Paul's Epistles, St. Augustine's Confes- 
 sions, the lives and writings of all great divine souls. 
 Discontent is the sense of want, the spur of advance- 
 ment, the soul of aspiration, the distinguishing mark 
 of a lofty and growing spirit. Said Kobert Hall, "I 
 am constantly tormented with a desire to preach 
 better sermons than I can." "And because he was 
 so tormented," remarks a modem author, "he preach- 
 ed better sermons than any man alive. ' ' 
 
 Give a Guinea negro plenty of sunshine to lie in 
 
 Preached in the First Presbyterian Church, Binehamton, 1883 
 and 1884; also in these churches: Central Presbyterian, Bochester, 
 1884; Brick Presbyterian, Rochester, 1885; Presbyterian, Rye, N. 
 X., 1885: Central Presbyterian, Denver, 1888 and 1898; Second Pres- 
 byterian, Scranton, 1889; Presbyterian, Owego, N. Y., 1891: New 
 Torl£ Avenue Presbyterian, Washington, D. C, 1895; Binghamton 
 State Hospital for the Insane, 1895; First Presbyterian, Buffalo, 
 1896: Central Presbyterian, Rochester, 1896; Immanuel Presby- 
 terian, Milwaukee, 1897: First Presbyterian, Bnglewood, N. J., 
 1898: First Presbyterian, Milwaukee, 1898; First Presbyterian, 
 Binghamton, 1898: Central Presbyterian, Denver, 1898. 
 
 152 
 
CONTENTMENT 153 
 
 and plenty of pineapple to eat, and you have a picture 
 of contentment, grinning, grunting contentment. But 
 where were our ciyilization, our sciences, oiu* pro- 
 gress, our works of improvement and advancement, 
 if men and women were just as willing to lie in 
 nakedness and dirt as in independence and beautiful 
 conditions? It is perfectly certain that every one of 
 us ought to be deeply and increasingly discontented 
 with himself, with his past attainments, with his pres- 
 ent efforts and accomplishments. He ought to set his 
 heart with urgent unappeased desire upon doing 
 better work than he does and upon being a better 
 man than he is. Of that kind of discontent no one 
 ever had too much, and no one ever had more than 
 the eager aspiring spirit who penned the text, whose 
 image, whose characteristic attitude, was that of a 
 runner, eye and hand flung forward, forgetting the 
 things that were behind, reaching forth unto the 
 thiugs that were before. 
 
 Is there no such thing then as true content? Is 
 there no such blessing as the tranquil mind 1 I think 
 there is. "Am I discontented with myself or with 
 things which are not myself?" asked Epictetus. A 
 very significant question, though it came from the 
 lips of a heathen slave. To be well satisfied with 
 themselves, yet full of all dissatisfactions and com- 
 plaints because things outside of them are not to their 
 liking, this is the content and discontent of a great 
 many people. To have ceased to be greatly troubled 
 about things outside of him because he was struggling 
 
154 CONTENTMENT 
 
 for good things inside and striving to do more of 
 God's will and grow a better man day by day, this 
 was the content and discontent of St. Paul. 
 
 We must not think that the mere absence of desires 
 constitutes contentment. "If you would have a con- 
 tented mind," said the old philosopher, "cut your 
 desires down to the measure of your supplies." An 
 impossible rule in the first place, and in the next pro- 
 ductive of nothing but a counterfeit contentment. 
 Diogenes in his tub was a stubborn man and a cynical 
 man, but a contented man he never was. The hermit 
 who reduces his wants to a cell in the ground and a 
 little bread and water to dull the edge of his appetite 
 has a semblance of contentment, but it is no more like 
 the high shining serenity of mind which St. Paul 
 possessed than high noon is like starless night. The 
 fact is there can be no real contentment except there 
 be the possibility of its opposite, except there be 
 strong desires, urgent wants, and the hope of satisfy- 
 ing them when God shall see fit to open the way. To 
 be happy in our present position whatever it be, and 
 yet ready and thankful to rise out of it into a higher 
 and better, to be able to live in sweet peace of mind 
 in a small house, with a narrow income, and yet 
 prefer to live in a larger one and have a comfortable 
 support, to wait patiently when waiting is God's will 
 and to enjoy heartily when enjoyment is given, to 
 carry the full cup with a steady hand and to accept 
 the bitter one with a tranquil spirit, in short, not to 
 lay too great stress upon secular advantages one way 
 
CONTENTMENT 155 
 
 or the other, but to be above them and keep them 
 hanging quite loose about us, this I think is the prob- 
 lem of true contentment. 
 
 And the solution of it is certainly not to eradicate 
 the desires, not to petrify the soul into a state of in- 
 sensibility, but rather to have something within the 
 soul itself so much higher and more precious than 
 anything without that life's evUs shall no longer 
 seem unendurable or its goods indispensable. You 
 have seen a young man going into business, his heart 
 kindled with enthusiasm, his eye fixed upon the sum- 
 mit of his chosen occupation. How content he was 
 to miss many of the pleasures in which he formerly 
 delighted, because of other stronger attractions which 
 had entered into him. The artist, the poet, the scholar 
 are content to be poor in money values, because con- 
 scious of being rich in the higher values of creative 
 power and ideal beauty. 
 
 But the word itself contains its own solution. 
 The exact sense of the Greek word aiitarJces is self- 
 sufficing, self-supporting, independent. Thucydides 
 uses it to describe a city which subsists on its own 
 resources and does not require to import anything. 
 Like our own word contented, which properly means 
 contained, it denotes a mind which does not overflow 
 and run about for its happiness, but finds a living 
 fountain of satisfying good ever open at its door and 
 springing up at its feet. The lake which is supplied 
 from its own depths has a contented face. The stars 
 which bum with an inward illumination are images 
 
156 CONTENTMENT 
 
 of fathoinless content. God is absolute contentment, 
 because his is a nature absolutely self-sufficing. So 
 the truly contented soul is one who finds his own inner 
 being self-sufficing still, whatever his outward condi- 
 tions, and is therefore independent of outward condi- 
 tions, independent of other persons, independent of 
 all save God Himself. 
 
 I know some of us are incredulous about this. We 
 cannot recognize the truth that contentment is essen- 
 tially an inward thing. We think circumstances make 
 the difference. We complain of our lot. We charge 
 our restless repining dissatisfied feelings to our ex- 
 ternal conditions and to the treatment we receive at 
 the hand of others. We feel confident that if some 
 fortune were to raise us up to eminence and sur- 
 round us with affluence, full streams of contentment 
 would flow in upon us from every side. But we know 
 not what we ask. Our wishes realized would only in- 
 crease the troubles they are expected to remove. De- 
 pend upon it, we shall never heal the open sore of the 
 heart's discontent until we come back to the heart 
 itself and change somewhat there. A weak peevish 
 irritable complaining soul can no more find content- 
 ment by improving his outward condition than a 
 man in a fever can find a cool place by turning from 
 side to side in his bed. But reduce the temperature 
 and any side will be cool enough. Full of profound 
 truth though mingled with sadness was the confes- 
 sion of poor Oliver Goldsmith, 
 
CONTENTMENT 157 
 
 "Vain, very vain, my search to find 
 The bliss which only centres in the mind." 
 
 True interior contentment, need I say it, is one of 
 the highest, richest acquisitions which any one of us 
 can possibly make. The old philosophers and poets 
 had a good appreciation of its lower values and often 
 dwelt upon them. ' ' A contented mind is the greatest 
 and surest riches, ' ' says Cicero. It is the true answer 
 to the soul 's great search for happiness, says Horace ; 
 though elsewhere he indicates the difficulty of coming 
 to it in the question, "How happens it, Maecenas, that 
 nobody lives contented in the lot assigned to him by 
 God?" "God hath appointed one remedy," says an- 
 other, "for aU the evils in the world, a contented 
 spirit. ' ' 
 
 Still higher considerations recommend it to us to 
 whom the mystery of the diviue life has been given. 
 Contentment is the primary substance of spirituality, 
 the very atmosphere in which holiness is realized. 
 Pleasing to God, helpful to others, and an unspeak- 
 able treasure to its possessor is a mind centered in 
 deep sweet measureless content. He who possesses 
 true interior contentment is fortified in an impreg- 
 nable castle, and that castle is his own soul. What 
 can fortune or misfortune, success or failure, the 
 world's favors or frowns do to a man whose good 
 things are all inside of his own soul ? Whatever man 
 may think about him or do to him, the whole universe 
 is his. We are told how Jean Paul Richter, the German 
 poet, was excluded from the aristocratic circle of the 
 
158 CONTENTMENT 
 
 little town of Hof . It seems lie did not belong to their 
 set. They blackballed him. "Whereupon, remarks 
 Carlyle, "As he could not be admitted to the West 
 End of Hof, he was obliged to take up his quarters 
 at the West End of the universe, where indeed he had 
 a splendid reception." 
 
 But now how to have true inward contentment; 
 how to be free from vague longings, repining hours, 
 complaining moods, how to have what one calls the 
 temporal heaven of a contented mind, the best evi- 
 dence that we are making sure progress toward the 
 infinite eternal heaven at God's right hand? The 
 text gives us a hint, "I have learned, in whatsoever 
 state I am, therewith to be content." He did not 
 inherit it by nature, he learned it. It was not given 
 him at conversion, he learned it afterwards. God 
 taught it to him as He teaches docile souls so much of 
 their best wisdom, in the school of life and experience. 
 Vain, very vain and presumptuous, my brother, would 
 it be for me to attempt to teach you or myself the 
 lesson of contentment. Only God can teach the lesson. 
 But we can study, if we will, the ways by which He 
 is teaching it and perhaps point out some of the 
 helps for its speedier learning. 
 
 One of these helps which has been of use to others 
 is to distinguish more thoughtfully than we do be- 
 tween the real and the adventitious blessings of life. 
 When one thinks upon it, the reaUy great blessings 
 of existence are not so unevenly distributed after all. 
 What are God's great gifts? Life, health, sleep, suit- 
 
CONTENTMENT 159 
 
 able food and clothing, knowledge, work, friendship, a 
 good conscience and the grace of Jesus Christ. "Well, 
 what class or rank in society has any monopoly of 
 these things ? Are they not bestowed like the air and 
 sunlight, like the beauties of nature and the blessings 
 of the gospel, upon high and low, rich and poor alike ? 
 And yet these universal gifts are the great things, the 
 only essential elements of either greatness, goodness, 
 or happiness. 
 
 True, there are other things. There are rich in- 
 comes, but what makes a noble life, high enthusiasm 
 or ten thousand a year? There are palatial resi- 
 dences, but what makes a home, love or fine parlors? 
 There are splendid equipages, but what makes a 
 journey, an intelligent eye or a luxurious carriage? 
 There is elegant apparel, but what makes a lady, 
 costly dress or a beautiful soul? "And having food 
 and raiment," says the apostle, "let us therewith be 
 content." It is an enforcement of the truth upon 
 which we are dwelling, the truth that the common 
 gifts of life are the great ones, the truth that content- 
 ment is not hidden in the clouds or secreted in the 
 depths of the sea, but like the manna in the camp 
 of the Israelites falls from heaven right about us in 
 the blessings of every day. The healthful counte- 
 nance, the sunny spirit, the warm grasp of love, 
 the pleasures of work, of nature and of books, the 
 consciousness of doing good and the hopes of heaven, 
 he who has these things has the fresh and perennial 
 springs of content. And he who has them and yet 
 
160 CONTENTMENT 
 
 chooses to turn away from them and sit down on his 
 little bundle of thorns is fit to bear the moping owl 
 company, who with sunshine all around him com- 
 plains that there is nothing to see or to enjoy. 
 
 Another admirable help to contentment is found in 
 the Apostle's precept, "Be content with such things 
 as you have;" the true force of which is, set a just 
 valuation upon the things which you have and do not 
 be always looking upon and magnifying things which 
 others have and you have not. It is an infirmity to 
 which the noblest miads are subject to fix the eye 
 upon things which they have not and estimate their 
 worth by the distance of their removal. We overvalue 
 the things we desire and undervalue the things we 
 possess. While we have an object in pursuit we see 
 nothing but its attractions, when we have it in pos- 
 session we are apt to see little but its defects. But 
 it is the part of a thoughtful Christian to rise su- 
 perior to these illusions of the mind and be much 
 taken up with the things God has given us; to con- 
 sider how valuable they are to us, how precious, how 
 comforting, how much worse off we would be without 
 them, and how many persons long for just what 
 we have and would be glad with all their hearts to 
 exchange for our possessions the very things which we 
 have envied them. Ah, friends, if we would but take 
 our eyes and hearts off the things we have not, and 
 let gratitude count up the blessings we have and love 
 taste the goodness we have and happiness enjoy the 
 comforts we have, we should oftener than we do speak 
 
CONTENTMENT 161 
 
 to one another that old beautiful word which in this 
 restless age falls upon the ear like a voice out of an- 
 other world, ' ' Because God hath dealt graciously with 
 me, and because I have enough." 
 
 StiU another help to contentment is to compare 
 what we have with what we deserve. "We are fond 
 of drawing comparisons, but not of this kind. "We 
 run over in our thoughts our neighbors, our richer 
 neighbors not our poorer ones, and are filled with 
 envy and discontent at seeing others no better than 
 ourselves having so much more than we have of the 
 world's wealth, honor, ease, reputation. But how 
 much humbler as well as happier we would be if in- 
 stead of looking sidewise at our neighbors and finding 
 cause of offense in God's dealings with them, we were 
 in the habit of musing over God's good providences 
 toward ourselves and finding in them, as Jacob did, 
 cause for wonder, love and praise. "I am not worthy 
 of the least of all the mercies and all the truth which 
 thou hast showed unto thy servant." 
 
 Of all that any one of us is enjoying at this moment 
 what he has deserved? Has he deserved life, or 
 health, or strength, or reason, or happiness ? Has he 
 put God under the slightest obligation to give him 
 the pleasures of home, relatives, friends, education, 
 the Bible, the Church? Or is each and every one of 
 these things a pure gratuity imdeservedly given and 
 day by day continued to him by God's mercy? Ah, 
 if we would only think what that means which the 
 prophet Jeremiah says we should never again be dis- 
 
162 CONTENTMENT 
 
 contented. "It is of the Lord's mercies — ." What? 
 That we have so many things to enjoy 1 No, not that. 
 That we are kept from so much misery? No. That 
 we are not beaten with many stripes? No. "It is 
 of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed." 
 
 But after all, the great stay of the contented spirit 
 must ever be its faith, its trust in the Almighty. "Be 
 content with present things," says the Apostle, "for he 
 hath said, I will never leave you nor forsake you." 
 By what can a person who reaUy holds that assurance 
 from a faithful omnipotent creator ever be disquieted? 
 If God be for him what can be against him? Life 
 passes. I know it as well as you. Eiches fly, popu- 
 larity wanes, friends die, the world changes. But 
 One is constant. One is true. One changes not. One 
 can do all things for us. Where we are He has placed 
 us. What we have He has given us. Whither we 
 go He leads us. He strengthens and upholds us by 
 day and by night. He keeps guard and thinks upon 
 us. 0, it is in such hours as we have been thinking 
 upon God and have heard coming down through the 
 depth of our souls His whispered voice, "My child, 
 I have loved you," that all the fears and anxieties 
 and perils that often come thick about this mortal 
 life have vanished away and we have looked up in 
 strange wonder and said, "Lord, it is enough, I am 
 content." 
 
 But if faith ia God brings occasional tides of con- 
 tent, acquaintance with Him and service of Him in 
 Jesus Christ brings its steady continuous flow. The 
 
CONTENTMENT 163 
 
 saintly painter, Angelico, traced his glowing con- 
 ceptions upon the ceUs of San Marco, and those who 
 visit Florence are arrested and thriUed by the purity 
 of his dreams. But he who has stood before the 
 Cross, he who has seen the face of Jesus Christ, has 
 seen a vision of such matchless purity and penetrat- 
 ing power as throws the pictured dreams of Angelico 
 into dim and shadowy faintness. He has seen in one 
 soul-subduing sight the wondrous love of God and the 
 wondrous sacredness of man. brother, sister, it 
 seems to me that I perceive now where St. Paul 
 learned the lesson of contentment. It began to spring 
 up within him ia his first vision of the Crucified on 
 that summer noonday before the ancient city of Da- 
 mascus. Henceforth his life was changed. One 
 Vision illuminated the whole pathway of life. One 
 Face transfigured all. One purpose, one allegiance, 
 one devotion seized him, to impress that Glory upon 
 a sinning, sorrowing world, to carry out the objects 
 of that Life and fill the earth with the love and 
 loveliness of that Vision. His was the contentment 
 of a soul lost like his Master's in self-sacrifice and 
 consecration. 
 
 0, to think that there are men and women in this 
 world, perchance on this sanctuary floor, who in no 
 sense love and serve Jesus Christ, this is to waken up 
 to the truth that there are men and women who have 
 no deep interior contentment because no deep in- 
 terior love and devotion. It is to waken up to the 
 fact that there are men and women surrounded by 
 
164 CONTENTMENT 
 
 all the comfort that life can offer, health, fortune, 
 friends, and yet petty, peevish, irritable, fretted by 
 the slightest annoyance, simply because their feelings 
 and energies are all pent up in themselves, all boiling 
 in their own bosoms, not drawn out in any worthy ef- 
 fort, not absorbed in any supreme love. 
 "Some murmur," says the poet, 
 
 "If one small speck of dark appear 
 In their great heaven of blue; 
 And some with thankful love are filled 
 If but one streak of light, 
 One ray of God's good mercy, gild 
 The doikness of their night." 
 
ON TAKING A BEST. 
 
 "Best in the Lord." Psalm 37: 7. 
 
 The golden midsummer days are upon lis. The 
 ardent sim overflows earth and sky with heat and 
 splendor. The hiUs and valleys stand clothed in rich- 
 est verdure. The airs are drowsy, the clouds are 
 dreamy, the woods are full of mystery, the sunsets 
 are vistas of glory. It is the season of fervors and 
 odors, the season of long days and full harmonies, 
 above all the season of deep tranquilities and "the 
 old immortal peace that comes with summer tide." 
 The tone of spring is life and energy, the tone of 
 autumn is pensiveness and decay, the tone of winter 
 is fierceness and storm, but restfulness and repose 
 is the tone of summer. The winds are light and 
 gentle, the streams flow with a lulling music, the 
 notes of the birds are soft and liquid, the groves 
 are still and soothing, the flocks of clouds above, like 
 the flocks below, congregate slowly. All things seem 
 to exist in a tideless expansion of peace, an image of 
 that above. 
 
 "If here on earth such blessed peace may be, 
 
 Though known so transiently. 
 How deep the peace of God that folds eternity! 
 There also happy souls in summer's glow 
 
 Are led where waters flow. 
 And find the new born earth like earth of long ago." 
 
 Preached in the First Presbyterian Church, Binghamton, 1904. 
 
 165 
 
166 TAKING A REST 
 
 The message from this pulpit is usually a gospel 
 of work or a gospel of grace. It is rarely, perhaps 
 too rarely, a gospel of rest. Perhaps it would be 
 better if our congregations, which are always gathered 
 to hear what they can do for God, were oftener called 
 to rest in what God has done for them and in God 
 Himself. At any rate here at the close of a year of 
 hastening months and increasing duties, when nature 
 is breathing restful influences all around, I feel the 
 caU to rest and am come to you this morning with a 
 plea for summer blessing. 
 
 Beyond doubt work is the great purpose of life and 
 a chief source of human happiness. "Without any- 
 thing to do in it, this world would be a miserable 
 place. Life unoccupied, life listless, purposeless, 
 dawdled away in perpetual idleness, would be a dread- 
 ful burden. "My happiest days," said a wise man, 
 "have been those in which I had most work to do 
 with sufficient health and strength to do it." We do 
 not work in order to rest; we rest in order to work. 
 If we do put rest before us as the end we never gain it, 
 or if we do we are never happy in its possession. 
 "Work is the end, rest is the means. "Wort is the 
 privilege, rest is the necessity. Rest is a necessity in 
 this life at least. In another world we believe that 
 work itself will be restful and recuperative without 
 any effect of weariness or feeling of exhaustion. We 
 read of the blessed ones above that they do Him serv- 
 ice, they serve Him day and night in His temple. 
 But here for every one of us rest is a necessity. No 
 
TAKING A REST 167 
 
 one has such resources of strength that he does not 
 need from time to time a new baptism of freshness 
 and vigor. 
 
 It is an inexorable law of nature that periods of 
 intensity must be followed by periods of relaxation, 
 working hours by hours of sleep, long applications 
 of work by intervals of rest. The bow cannot always 
 be kept bent. The horse cannot be driven at the top 
 of his speed all day long. Too frequent and too 
 solemn are the warnings given us that the laws of 
 nature cannot be disregarded with impunity, and 
 that the overdriven must come to a standstill. Never 
 perhaps in the history of the world has the necessity 
 of rest been so imperative as now. "All things are 
 full of labor," said Solomon in his day. What he 
 would say if he were living now, when men have what 
 is called the bicycle eye, the automobile face, and the 
 twentieth century eagerness and strenuousness, I do 
 not know. Life in too many instances is a run, a rush, 
 and a wreck. "While I am speaking you have before 
 your minds some ease of a noble life brought to a 
 sudden and untimely end by neglecting the necessity 
 of rest, some sad memory of a brUliant intellect and 
 eager heart and intense nature strained until the 
 break came, never to be repaired on earth, and the 
 work which with greater moderation might have gone 
 on a long time was arrested in the height of its pro- 
 gress. 
 
 But rest is not only a physical necessity. It is an 
 intellectual and moral reinforcement. The body and 
 
168 TAKING A REST 
 
 mind are so mtimately wedded that whatever invigor- 
 ates the one gives new force to the other. It is won- 
 derful how much is gained by both body and mind 
 in sleep. He who sleeps is born anew. No hard 
 thinker but knows how the mind that drags heavily 
 at night often issues from the womb of the morning 
 a new creature. We have a habit of saying in regard 
 to an important question or decision, "I will sleep 
 over it and let you know in the morning. ' ' There is 
 more in that than seems. It is not merely more time 
 that is gained but more light, more vision. During 
 the rest of the night the confusions of the brain re- 
 arrange themselves, its perplexities clear up, its spent 
 energies flow back and gather in, and the man emerges 
 in the morning into a more lucid state and considers 
 the question from a truer point of view. How often 
 difficulties of thought and obstacles of expression in- 
 superable at night yield readily to a few moments' 
 application in the morning every one knows. 
 
 This is even more true of those longer periods of 
 rest which give the mind more full restoration. It 
 is a mistake to think that the mind receives nothing 
 except when engaged in deliberate effort. There is an 
 unconscious cerebration, an involuntary secretion of 
 vital forces and dewy freshness in times when the 
 yoke is lifted off the neck and the spirit unbends at 
 liberty, that is among the most valuable of the mind's 
 acquisitions. Many are the hard-worked business 
 men who are now leaving their stores and counting 
 rooms behind them, many are the weary professional 
 
TAKING A EBST 169 
 
 men and women who are leaving their clients, pa- 
 tients, schools and churches behind them, with dark 
 discouraged feelings, who wiU come again from their 
 quiet resting places by and by with bright counte- 
 nances and fresh invigorations, prepared for higher 
 service and heavier burdens. 
 
 But rest is not only a physical necessity and an in- 
 tellectual reinforcement. It is a part of religion. 
 It often happens that a person finds himself sinking 
 down into states of impatience, irritableness, despond- 
 ency and irresolution from nothing else but the want 
 of rest. "Whenever I speak on this subject I am 
 made to think of that tired out man iu the old Bible 
 story — that man of unfliuching courage, iron pur- 
 pose, and nerve of steel, lying under the juniper 
 tree, his arms relaxed, his head bowed forward be- 
 tween his knees, his face the picture of despair and 
 himself asking for death as the only exit from his 
 woe and wretchedness. "It is enough; now, 
 Lord, take away my life ; for I am not better than my 
 fathers." A most false and unworthy state of mind 
 for a man to be in no doubt, especially a prophet of 
 the Lord who had been divinely honored as he had. 
 You are ready to say, perhaps, that his most fitting 
 exercise is penitence and prayer. Not so thought He 
 who understood His servant's case and knew what 
 was necessary to restore him. He knew that the 
 spiritual bow had been bent too long already. Once, 
 twice did the angel of the Lord come with refreshing 
 food and bend over the poor tired spirit, saying, 
 
170 TAKING A REST 
 
 "Arise and eat; because the journey is too great for 
 thee," and then when he had eaten give him back 
 again into the arms of nature's sweet restorer, deep 
 sleep. 
 
 We are apt to think that religion should always 
 be a struggle, that religious services should always 
 brace the will, stimulate the energies, arouse the 
 conscience and impel the soul, but it is not so. That 
 we should forget the things that are behind and reach 
 forth unto the things that are before and press 
 toward the mark for the prize of our high calling 
 I do most earnestly believe. But that we should be 
 always doing this, always striving to broaden our 
 knowledge, always laboring to deepen our penitence, 
 always gazing at the heights of purity we have not 
 yet reached, always thinking on the millions whom 
 the Gospel has not yet blessed, I do not believe. St. 
 Paul was not always doing this. There are whole 
 epistles of his in which his mind is chiefly taken 
 up in resting and rejoicing in what God has done 
 already. God has done great things already, and it is 
 a poor shallow religion that does not sometimes pause 
 and rest in what God is and what he has done for us 
 sinners. The joy of the Lord is our strength, and 
 we never can have enduring vigor and deep peace 
 imless we sometimes feed our souls upon the vision of 
 God's everlasting love and rest in the hope of His 
 eternal glory. 
 
 Approaching the subject from another point of 
 view, I should like to speak a few words upon the way 
 
TAKING A EBST 171 
 
 in which rest is to be ohtained. There are four great 
 powers of rest, all close at hand and within the reach 
 of every one of us, nature, companionship, the Sun- 
 day, and God. First, nature. God has given the visi- 
 ble heavens and earth a mysterious power to heal 
 the body, cahn the mind and soothe the spirit. Na- 
 ture is a trained nurse and full of sympathies as a 
 woman's heart. Her blithe sunlit air is a cordial be- 
 yond the power of any apothecary to mingle. Her 
 woods are high places full of presences at once silent 
 and commimicative. Her momiags and evenings 
 are apocalyptic visions. Her hills, rivers, horizons, 
 sunlight and shadow, cloud and raiabow, moon-rise 
 and star-light, are enchantments that lift off not only 
 the weight of care but the weariaess of age and give 
 back our youth. And it need not be natiu-e in the 
 Rocky Mountains or nature around the Mediter- 
 ranean Sea to do this. Many persons think that to 
 have rest they must have a change of scene. They 
 think that rest comes from flight and must be pur- 
 sued. They are like the psalmist who in one of his 
 depressed moods cries out, "0 that I had wings like 
 a dove ! for then would I fly away, and be at rest. ' ' 
 But rest is not obtained in that way. There are just 
 as many tired, restless, unhappy men and women 
 hurrying through Europe at this moment as are stay- 
 ing here at home. You need not journey to snowy 
 mountain ranges or stand on the shore of the deep 
 blue sea to enjoy a perfect exhilaration. You can- 
 not retreat for one happy hour into one of the hills 
 
172 TAKING A REST 
 
 that compass this city without being surrounded from 
 first to last by a thousand objects of beauty and joy 
 fresh from the hand of God. You cannot look up into 
 the sky without a vision almost human in its expres- 
 sions, almost spiritual in its tenderness, almost divine 
 in its majesty. Yesterday brought me a message 
 from a friend floating in a gondola near the Eialto 
 beneath the moonlight of Venice, with the air all 
 music and the scene faerie. As I laid down the mes- 
 sage and looked through my window into the blue 
 depths of the sky, I saw floating there a faerie pageant 
 of cloudland, purer and lovelier than the famed bride 
 of the sea ever appeared. 
 
 Ah, friends, let not vain longings for that which 
 you have not rob you of the full enjoyment of what 
 God has so freely given you. Seize every opportunity 
 in these summer days of communing with nature here 
 at home. Be much out of doors. Go as often as 
 you can into the woods, and when you go throw open 
 your whole natures to the influences around you. If 
 possible break away from the routine of your ordinary 
 occupation, though it be only for a week or two. 
 Leave care and anxiety behind and live that one week 
 in the solid enjoyment of rest. To some perhaps a 
 visit to a great city would be a real rest because it 
 would take them out of their own thoughts and 
 troubles more effectually than a quiet place in the 
 country. The form and place in which the rest is 
 taken must depend upon the inclination and resources 
 of him who takes it. But whether it be in the city. 
 
TAKING A REST 173 
 
 among the momitams or by the sea, it will give us 
 new and happier views of life and bring us nearer 
 to the kingdom of God to go apart and rest awhile. 
 Someone has said that nature in summer is just as 
 much a divine institution in aid of our spiritual na- 
 ture as is the sacrament of the Lord's Supper or the 
 ordinance of social worship, only that for the most 
 part we fail to see it with faith and devoutness. 
 
 There is a second power of rest, companionship. 
 People think they enjoy places and things, "What 
 they really enjoy is persons. If you were condemned 
 to spend your life in the most beautiful spot in the 
 Alps or the Italian Lakes and to spend it there alone, 
 it would soon become drearier to you than a desert. 
 If you were appointed to live in a gorgeous palace 
 where no human face was ever seen, where no foot- 
 step but your own was ever heard in its richly fur- 
 nished rooms, you would soon long to share a hut with 
 a friend. The human soul cannot rest in things. It 
 demands the interchange of thoughts, feelings, sym- 
 pathies. It demands companionship. "My presence 
 shall go with thee and I will give thee rest," was 
 spoken by God to Moses, but the profound truth of 
 it, that in a loving Presence is rest, we have all felt. 
 It is good to take a sympathizing companion into our 
 days of rest. Indeed this is what real inward rest is, 
 the ascendancy of a strong affection. Love and trust 
 are the great rest-giving powers, even as inquiry and 
 doubt are the fountains of unrest. A satisfied heart 
 is always a rest. 
 
174 TAKING A REST 
 
 There is a companionship of books as well as of liv- 
 ing persons. Books, good books, are friends that 
 speak to us, walk with us, comfort us, show us their 
 hearts and allow us to leave them at any moment 
 without being offended. It may easily be that a book 
 shall be more communicative of tranquility and rest 
 than a living person because the element of restless- 
 ness and rancour is eliminated, and it imparts only 
 light and sympathy. Ruskin classified all books as 
 books for the hour and books for all time. It is well 
 to take into our hours of rest one of each class, a book 
 that is a cordial and a book that is a tonic, a sweet, 
 wholesome book of the hour and a great immortal 
 book, and alternate them. 
 
 Thirdly, the Sunday, the weekly rest day, is a great 
 power and precious gift of rest. God has caused a 
 deep sleep to fall upon the life of man every seventh 
 day, and out of that sleep as out of a cradle He 
 causes His children to come forth rested, quieted, 
 pacified. We cannot be too thankful for the Sabbath 
 Day, "God's selected gift of time," as it has been 
 called, "Mount of clearest vision, land of purest air, 
 spot nearest heaven's gate." What a pity that to 
 many people the Sunday is hardly different from a 
 mere holiday! What a pity that to some instead of 
 being the best of all the days it is the worst; a day 
 of dissipation and exhaustion instead of a day of joy 
 and invigoration ! 
 
 I have sometimes heard people speak as if the strict 
 Sabbath rest which prevailed in New England fifty 
 
TAKING A BEST 175 
 
 years ago must liave made the day a bondage and a 
 burden, especially to children and young people. My 
 experience does not confirm that opinion. Sunday 
 was never a dreaded day in my childhood. It was, 
 however, a day strangely unlike other days. It was 
 a divinely still and peaceful day, a day, as it were, 
 out of another world, out of the far summer sky, a 
 day on which Heaven bent closer over the earth and 
 the ladder of vision given to the Hebrew boy lying 
 on the desert with a stone for his pillow was given 
 to the New England boy in his pasture. I cannot but 
 feel that our modem life would be sweeter and 
 happier with that strange still day in the midst of it. 
 "Why is it that so many men and women who are 
 sighing for rest and who need rest are not permitted 
 to realize it? "Why is it that so many persons are 
 compelled to live in a state of chronic locomotion? 
 Even when they go away for the purpose of rest 
 they cannot rest. They must be always moving on, 
 always traveling to the next place, usually starting 
 Sunday morning, ever urging forward, ever forced 
 along, ever anxious and excited, never tranquil, never 
 peaceful. They asked in Cairo what sin the people 
 of American had committed that they had always 
 to be traveling and were never permitted to rest 
 anywhere. Is the answer a broken commandment and 
 an unhallowed Sunday? 
 
 Finally, dear friends, there is one great original 
 source of aU the rest in the world — God. All the 
 powers of rest we have been trying to describe, nature. 
 
176 TAKING A REST 
 
 companionship, books, the Sunday, are just streams 
 of which He is the fountain. In Him alone, in Him 
 forever is perfect rest. What that rest is we know 
 not yet. The stillest summer evening that ever shed 
 its sweet peace around cannot tell us of the peace of 
 God that passeth all understanding. The most blissful 
 Sunday that ever lifted a rapt worshipper's soul on 
 high cannot bring us within sight of the everlasting 
 serenities of the rest that remaineth for the people 
 of God. It is rest for all trouble and danger without 
 and for all sin and fear within. It is the rest of every 
 faculty of the soul completed, every longing fulfilled, 
 every desire satisfied. It is the rest, the unspeakable 
 lapture of union with God. my brother, my sister, 
 this is the rest which you need, which I need, which 
 every human soul needs, the rest of the love of God. 
 
 And He is calling us to it. He is stretching out 
 His hands to us this morning. He is looking upon 
 our sin and restlessness with tender compassion. He 
 is opening His heart to us as earnestly, as lovingly as 
 ever before. He is longing to have us aU forgiven, all 
 redeemed, aU saved from sin and weariness and death 
 and welcomed home to everlasting rest in Heaven. I 
 will close with His words, grandest, kingliest, sweet- 
 est, best ever spoken in this lost world, "Come unto 
 me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will 
 give you rest." 
 
THE SCOPE AND OUTLOOK OF LIFE. 
 
 "We look not at the things which are seen, but at the things 
 which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; 
 but the things which are not seen are eternal." 2nd Cor- 
 inthians 4: 18. 
 
 Is this a possible thing to do 1 And if possible is it 
 profitable or praiseworthy for a man to shut his eye 
 to things revealed about him in order to fix his at- 
 tention upon hidden things above him? Is it so that 
 men are awake and alert to discern the signs of the 
 times and do their work in the world? Has God 
 made this world and made it so conspicuous just to 
 be looked away from? Has God made the human 
 eye and made it so keen and penetrating just to be 
 disused? There is a great deal of pulpit talk about 
 looking away from the things of time to the things 
 of eternity that is about the dullest, dismallest speech 
 ever inflicted upon the human ear, and St. Paul is not 
 responsible for it. 
 
 There are two kinds of looking. There is a look- 
 ing which is temporary observing and there is a look- 
 ing which is a fixed gaze upon a goal. There is a 
 looking that observes facts, notes characteristics, 
 recognizes relations, takes account of means and ends 
 and sees how things can be accomplished. And there 
 
 Preached in the First Presbyterian Church, Binghamton, 1905. 
 
 177 
 
178 SCOPE AND OUTLOOK OF LIFE 
 
 is a looMng which the Psalmist expresses when he 
 says, "I have set the Lord always before me." 
 
 Every great soul — and every soul is great — ^has a 
 double vision, a near-by look which takes in passing 
 facts, experiences, opportunities, and a far-away look 
 which terminates upon some invisible aim, some ideal 
 eternal issue. Darwin was always observing facts 
 about him and at the same time always setting before 
 him that great invisible law of evolution. Napoleon 
 had his eyes wide open to events and movements 
 around him, but the pillar of cloud that went before 
 him was his vision of universal empire. 
 
 Now when St. Paul says "we look not at the things 
 that are seen," he does not mean that he pays no at- 
 tention to things around him. No man ever had a 
 quicker eye to take in the existing situation than he 
 who spoke to the mob on the stairs of the castle of 
 Antonia, defended himself before Festus and Agrippa, 
 and assumed the management of affairs on the wreck 
 of the foundered Alexandrian ship. It is the other 
 kind of looking which the Apostle has in mind, the 
 fixed gaze, the far-away vision, the shining goal. He 
 means that he is journeying through this world under 
 a light and glory that shines from above. God and 
 eternity are always before him. His inspiration, his 
 governing motive, his guiding star, are above, not be- 
 neath. He toils and endures as seeing Him who is 
 invisible. 
 
 Our subject is the true scope and outlook of life. 
 "We look not at the things which are seen but at the 
 
SCOPE AND OUTLOOK OF LIFE 179 
 
 things whieli are not seen; for the things which are 
 seen are temporal ; but the things which are not seen 
 are eternal." Time and eternity, the seen and the 
 unseen, the things of this passing world and the ma- 
 jesties of the eternal world to come, these are the 
 things which the Apostle in stately solemn phrase 
 sets over agaiast each other to point out the soul's 
 free outlook. In both of these we are aU profoundly 
 interested. "We are bound to be interested in this visi- 
 ble world in which we are living and acting, making 
 fortunes or losing them. And there are moments 
 when the eternal country of which we are soon to 
 make trial looms up with tremendous reality and over- 
 whelming interest. In a recent illness my first feel- 
 ing and experience was this great contrast of St. 
 Paul's. The eternal realities yonder rose above the 
 temporal here like majesties over phantoms and 
 pushed them out of sight. I sat for days where the 
 highest building of this city was in process of erec- 
 tion before my eyes, and it seemed as insignificant 
 to me as a child's play house. I would not have 
 stretched out my hand if I could for the offered deed 
 of it. The whole material city faded into worthless- 
 ness. I was like a man among shadows with a world 
 of living grandeur ready to open before him. 
 
 Brethren, we are heirs of two worlds "We are stand- 
 ing for the time in one creation, while another and 
 grander is steadily bearing down upon us like gigantic 
 headlands in a misty dawn. "Well now, what are we look- 
 ing at? "What are we really and finally fixing our eyes 
 
180 SCOPE AND OUTLOOK OF LIFE 
 
 upon ? What are we setting before us as the true scope 
 and ultimate object of our vision, the transient gaius 
 and pleasures of this ephemeral scene or the august 
 and holy presence of God and our eternal home? It 
 makes all the difference what we are looking at. The 
 eye is the watch tower of the soul. I want you this 
 morning to see how true this is. I want you to see how 
 much the direction of a man's gaze has to do with 
 determining his present life and future destiny. 
 
 Consider in the first place how it affects our concep- 
 tion of this world and our estimate of things about us 
 to see them all in their relation to God and eternity. 
 You know how it changes the appearance of some 
 stores on Court Street to see a twelve story building 
 behind them. You know perhaps how a village in 
 Switzerland looks against the background of a great 
 white Alp. The streets lose their breadth. The 
 buildings have no height. The spaces are contracted, 
 the elevations are flattened, and the whole village 
 has the appearance of a toy-like erection. So with 
 this world in the eyes of one who sees the heavens 
 opened. "Wealth, rank, honor, the prizes of ambition 
 and rewards of public applause seem very important 
 to one who sees them by themselves. But seen against 
 the great white background of the almighty and eter- 
 nal, how the pride and bravery of this transitory 
 world dwindle ! One view of the glory of Jesus Christ 
 above his head on the wayside to Damascus reversed 
 instantly and completely Paul's estimate of this whole 
 world. I must see God in the background to get a 
 
SCOPE AND OUTLOOK OF LIFE 181 
 
 correct view of things in the foregroimd. I am easily 
 deceived. Near pleasures, immediate enjoyments, 
 present gains get an exaggerated importance from my 
 nearsightedness. "What I need is an eternal back- 
 ground whose revealing light shall correct my view, 
 rectify my judgments and enable me to see things in 
 their just relations. 
 
 But again, the vision of God in the background im- 
 plies not only corrected views and rectified judgments. 
 It implies also deepened insights into the real nature 
 of things. John Ruskin has said that the greatest 
 thing a human soul ever does in this world is to see 
 something or someone as it really is and tell what he 
 sees in a plain way. To see clearly and distinctly, 
 deeply, is indeed science, poetry and religion all 
 in one. One man looks at a machine shop and sees in 
 it a place where men with grimy hands and black- 
 ened faces are coming out and going in, turning wood, 
 molding iron, manufacturing machinery. Another 
 man looks at the same shop and sees a place where 
 God is turning virtues, molding characters and train- 
 ing immortal souls for a wonderful future which lies 
 before them. To one person's eye a school room 
 shows teachers drilling some rather dull-looking chil- 
 dren in language and numbers. To the eye of an- 
 other person it is a vision of angels opening the 
 shining gates and ushering new souls into the eternal 
 palace of knowledge. Home shaU seem to one a kind 
 of combination eating-house and dormitory. To an- 
 other home shall seem a nursery of love and sacrifice, 
 
182 SCOPE AND OUTLOOK OP LIFE 
 
 a school of social fellowship and duty, an image and 
 likeness of heaven. Wherein lies the difference of 
 these views? In the background. One person looks 
 at things and sees in them little of interest or value 
 because his look has no divine perspective. Another 
 person looks at things and sees in them a hidden glory 
 because he sees the light and purpose and beauty of 
 God shining through them. 
 
 I remember one summer evening in Lucerne watch- 
 ing the operation of a powerful searchlight thrown 
 out from the opposite summit of the Stanserhorn. I 
 saw it flashing over the dark waves of the beautiful 
 lake, touching with luminous fingers the chestnut 
 trees on the quays, illuminating the quaint old bridges 
 across the Reuss, darting up the wooded heights of the 
 Griitsch and playing over the lovely slopes of the Drei 
 Linden. It was like the lifting of a heavenly curtain, 
 like the breaking of a celestial effulgence. The whole 
 panorama of lake and mountains, brooks and bays, 
 city and country, stood out clear, distinct, radiant, in 
 the revealing brightness. Like that is the effect of the 
 vision of God and the eternals upon the world. It 
 discovers wonderful secrets, brings to light hidden 
 treasures, interprets dark providences, shows eternal 
 issues, and makes this whole world of men and thinga 
 a kind of divine transparency. 
 
 But again, the vision of God as the abiding back- 
 ground of his mind ennobles a man's work and the 
 common duties of his daily life. It does this by ex- 
 pelling from his mind all falsehood, dishonesty, and 
 
SCOPE AND OUTLOOK OF LIFE 183 
 
 every mean device. Are you a working man? Not 
 tmtil you look away from God can you scamp your 
 work. Are you a tradesman? Not imtil you look 
 away from God can you use false weights and meas- 
 ures. Are you a public official? Not until you look 
 away from God can you carry behind you an open 
 hand for graft. It is said that one of Robertson's 
 congregation in Brighton used to keep the portrait 
 of the great preacher hanging in a room behind his 
 shop, and when he was tempted to any kind of trick- 
 ery, he would go and stand before that face until the 
 devil left him. His background was a holy human 
 face, but it was God and eternity he saw in it all 
 the same. Tou have heard the oft-repeated tale of the 
 Italian painter who when asked why he took such 
 excessive pains with his work replied, "I am painting 
 for eternity. It is worth while to take pains." Per- 
 haps he was mistaken. Perhaps he was only painting 
 for time after all. But in another sense he had a 
 right to say, and every one of us who is doing his 
 daily work, however humble, in the sight of God, has 
 a right to say, "I am working for eternity. I can do 
 nothing meanly or slovenly." 
 
 The vision of God in the background implies honest, 
 painstaking work. It implies also enthusiastic work. 
 Nothing great is ever done without enthusiasm. But 
 where is one to get enthusiasm? A man involved in 
 the petty details and drudgery of his vocation, a wo- 
 man in the treadmill of small activities and monoto- 
 nous tasks, how is it possible for such ever to rise to 
 
184 SCOPE AND OUTLOOK OF LIFE 
 
 the height of passionate enthusiasm? I answer, by 
 setting God and eternity before them. Look at those 
 great cathedral-builders of the mediaeval time cutting 
 blocks of stone, shaping columns, carving figures 
 and doing it all with the hands of wide-eyed enthusi- 
 asts. How grand they were in their toil! How 
 happy! Their work was almost worship. They 
 wrought their daily tasks in the spirit of a lofty con- 
 secration. Their very hammers rang Te Deums. 
 Their chisels chipped glorias. What is the explana- 
 tion? They looked not merely to the materials on 
 which they were working or to the earthly paymasters 
 who employed them. Their eyes stretched up to the 
 Lifinite. They linked their work to God and His 
 new creation. Brethren, the great need of all kinds 
 of work to-day is the upward look. Human indus- 
 tries are debased by being regarded on one side as 
 the instruments of capitalistic greed and on the other 
 as the mere equivalents of bread and butter. If men 
 could see themselves and their work in the larger 
 light of God, if they could see themselves as God's 
 workmen and see their works as God's service, what 
 a dignity would descend upon human labor! "What 
 enthusiasms would fill the world's workers! "Hitch 
 your wagon to a star," says Emerson. "Hitch your 
 work to Him who is above the stars," says St. Paul. 
 But again, the vision of God in the baekgroimd 
 works its effect upon our personal life and character. 
 We grow like what we habitually look at. A life lived 
 in the steady contemplation of God experiences the 
 
SCOPE AND OUTLOOK OF LIFE 185 
 
 love of God and power of God working in its inmost 
 depths with gracious transfiguring effect. It is a 
 wonderful thing to read such a life ia a written 
 biography, stiU more wonderful to come iato eon- 
 tact with it through personal acquaintance. Some 
 years ago I met George Miiller of Bristol, England. 
 He had the upward look. I could not but feel it. 
 He told us in the fellowship of the home, he told us 
 in the church, the thrilling story of his orphanages, 
 the way they were planted and the ways they had 
 been watered, and how he told it ! No egotism, no 
 " I " writ large or small, and no anxiety, no worry, no 
 frantic appeal, though thousands of homeless chil- 
 dren were hanging upon his hands. He told the story 
 with the simplicity of a child, with the quietness and 
 confidence of an assured soul. "Thou wilt keep him 
 in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee." "In 
 quietness and confidence shall be your strength." 
 
 So it was with George Miiller. So it may be with 
 us. He who fixes his eye on God finds his feet fixed 
 on a rock. He is delivered from all wavering and 
 panic. The shake and tremble goes out of a man 
 who beholds the invisible. He has about his inmost 
 heart a feeling of security, and about his entire life 
 an atmosphere of firmness, calmness, secret strength 
 and dauntless courage. 
 
 I see that brave young spirit, the first to die for 
 Jesus Christ, standing in the great haU of the temple 
 of Herod in the bloom of youth, facing a bench of 
 hostile judges, surrounded by a vast concourse of 
 
186 SCOPE AND OUTLOOK OF LIFE 
 
 excited spectators — standing there while the rage 
 deepens, while the gnashing of teeth infuriates, wMle 
 the murderous stones batter and shatter his body, 
 calm, unmoved, beautiful, his face as it had been the 
 face of an angel, his words echoes of his Master's, 
 "Lord, lay not this sin to their charge." I witness 
 the awful tragedy. I ask the secret of Stephen's un- 
 earthly calm and courage and sublime forgiving 
 spirit. And I find it in the testimony borne to him, 
 "He looked up steadfastly into heaven and saw the 
 glory of God and Jesus Christ standing on the right 
 hand of God." 
 
 Once more, the vision of God in the background 
 works its effect upon our eternal future. It realizes 
 and actualizes the whole circle of truths, powers and 
 agencies which constitute the eternal world. The 
 soul, its value and immeasurable possibilities, sin, its 
 reality and terrible ruin, Christ, His unconquerable 
 personality, marvelous condescension and victorious 
 deliverance of our race, the Bible, its wondrous reve- 
 lations of truth and love and immortality, eternity, 
 its awfulness and its inconceivable glory and blessed- 
 ness, these all grow upon a man and come to be more 
 and more with him as the subjects of his thought and 
 the objects of his affections while he lifts up his 
 eyes on high. To his intensified eye of faith and love 
 the spiritual world becomes as real as the natural. 
 He grasps eternity in time. He begins to live the 
 eternal life already. 
 
 There is a picture by Ary Scheffer at the bottom 
 
SCOPE AND OUTLOOK OF LIFE 187 
 
 of which are inscribed the words, ' ' St. Augustine and 
 his mother Monica." Two figures are leaning out on 
 a window-sill of a house in the port of Ostia. Two 
 rapt faces are gazing toward heaven. "We were 
 waiting," so writes the son, "for the moment when 
 we were to set sail. We were alone conversing with 
 indescribable sweetness. Forgetting the past and 
 stretching toward the future, we were asking ourselves 
 what shall be that eternal life which eye hath not 
 seen nor ear heard. And come aloft on the wings 
 of love towards Him who is, we climbed as it were 
 up through those celestial regions whence the stars, 
 the moon and the sun send us their light. And as 
 we thus rose in our ardent aspirations toward that 
 life we seemed to touch it for one moment with a 
 bound of the heart, and sighed as we left there cap- 
 tive the first fruits of the spirit and came back again 
 to the sound of the voice which begins and ends. 
 Then my mother said to me, 'My son, so far as I am 
 concerned there is nothing more to bind me to this 
 life. What should I do in it? There was one thing 
 for which I desired to continue in life, and that was 
 that I might see you a Christian before I died. My 
 God has given me that and more than that. Why 
 should I tarry here any longer?' " And then at the 
 close of a conversation that soared above the confines 
 of time and space and was a foretaste of the eternal 
 rest, Monica immediately fell asleep in the arms of 
 her son and upon the bosom of her Saviour. 
 
 Ah friends, we are all like those two in the window 
 
188 SCOPE AND OUTLOOK OF LIFE 
 
 soon to set sail. A few more days of this sweet 
 earthly scene, a few more mornings of light and glad- 
 ness, a few more evenings of fellowship and rest, a 
 few more opportunities to do our duty, a few more 
 hours to repent and pray, a few more joys and sor- 
 rows, smiles and tears, and you and I 'will have passed 
 into the undiscovered country from whose bourne no 
 traveler returns. 
 
 Happy, immeasurably happy and thankful shall 
 we be if iQ a world of shadows we have fixed our 
 eyes upon the visions of eternity, if ia a world of 
 sin we have personally grasped the redeeming work 
 of Jesus Christ, if in a world of insoluble mysteries 
 and delusions on every hand we have made the Bible 
 our guide and lived a life of prayer, if in a world 
 sinking down into death and the grave we have kept 
 in view our eternal destiny and looked not at the 
 things which are seen, but at the things which are 
 not seen, ' ' for the things which are seen are temporal, 
 but the things which are not seen are eternal. ' ' 
 
Addresses on 
 Special Occasion^ 
 
ADDEESSBS 
 
 Dr. Nichols' preaching was always specially planned 
 for the winning of his people to open confession of 
 the Lord Jesus Christ. Only one or two comnmnion 
 seasons in all the years passed without additions to 
 the church on confession of faith, and he then felt 
 reproachful and self -condemned that he had not won 
 more to allegiance to his Master. The list of those 
 not owning Christ (always carried in his pocket) 
 was carefully studied. As the communion time drew 
 near, each one, wherever it was possible, was ap- 
 proached with wisest tact; and none that heard them 
 will ever forget the tender personal appeals made 
 from the pulpit. 
 
 Because of this great desire to make disciples, Dr. 
 Nichols magnified the sacrament of the Holy Com- 
 munion, and the Service Preparatory to it, which was 
 always with him a special additional service. His 
 intensity of feeliag communicated itself to the people, 
 and an unwonted solemnity prevailed ia these serv- 
 ices. His Preparatory Lectures were not merely 
 good talks, but specially written for distinctive phases 
 of preparation for the sacrament. Standing at the 
 Lord's Table in Communion, he always welcomed his 
 people to the feast with tenderest words of faith and 
 devotion, and his presence seemed a benediction to 
 them even at that holy time. 
 
 On many Sundays in different years he preached 
 191 
 
192 ADDRESSES 
 
 short sermons to children, which were as eagerly list- 
 ened to by the children grown old as by the children 
 themselves. 
 
 For about twenty years he was the Chaplain of the 
 Sixth Battery of the National Guard, and when in 
 health enjoyed preaching to the men of this organiza- 
 tion at least once a year. 
 
 He was often sought for lectures and special serv- 
 ices away from his home, but always felt that his 
 whole time was not too much to give to his own 
 church. 
 
 For many years, as Chairman of the Committee on 
 Synodical Home Missions of the Presbytery of Bing- 
 hamton, he gave much time and thought to this cause, 
 which he esteemed vital to the best interests of the 
 Church and the country. The smaller country and 
 village churches were carried on his heart by the man 
 who in his beautiful church and great congregation 
 did not forget his country boyhood and his village 
 pastorate. He became in a real sense the bishop of 
 these churches, advising, encouragiag, composing 
 difficulties, providing for various needs, visiting them 
 to preach occasional sermons. He was much resorted 
 to by the ministers and churches of a wide region 
 around Binghamton for counsel and help, and never 
 in vain. 
 
 A few addresses given on occasions connected with 
 some of the matters above referred to, and on others, 
 are here reproduced, whole or in part, to illustrate 
 different phases of Dr. Nichols' ministry. 
 
SPEECH AT THE DINNER OP THE BING- 
 HAMTON BOARD OF TRADE. 
 
 Mr. Toastmaster and Gentlemen of the Board of 
 Trade: 
 
 The Binghamton Board of Trade has now fully 
 proved the great functions of its organization and 
 settled the question of its existence. It has eaten its 
 first Dinner. Substantial existence cannot be predi- 
 cated of any body until its capacity for taking food 
 has been demonstrated. Just why so healthy and prom- 
 ising an organization as this has been kept in a state 
 of abstinence for so long a time, I do not understand. 
 But the critical moment is now passed. And if the 
 gentlemen in charge have felt any uneasiaess in re- 
 gard to this trial, their anxieties must now all be re- 
 moved, and their minds filled with pride and satis- 
 faction. I congratulate the Binghamton Board of 
 Trade upon its first Dinner. Many future dinners 
 may it eat, and may it see the necessity of having a 
 clergyman present on every occasion. 
 
 Everyone, it seems to me, must see the fitness of 
 inviting a minister to teach manufacturers and mar- 
 chants and bankers how to do their business. Indeed, 
 I believe it is the object for which banquets are usu- 
 ally held, that persons who know nothing about a 
 subject may enlighten those who have spent their life- 
 
 "December 16. 1881. 
 
 193 
 
194 AT BOARD OP TRADE DINNER 
 
 time in practising it. I have noticed that the prin- 
 cipal speakers chosen to honor the Pilgrims on Fore- 
 father's Day are usually men who were born in one 
 of the Provinces of Canada or in Texas or in one 
 of the South American States — ^men who have never 
 set foot within the boundaries of New England ia 
 their lives and who know as much about the Puritans 
 as about the natives of the Congo State. I observed 
 that at the recent Dinner of the Chamber of Com- 
 merce in New York, the speakers selected to bind 
 those merchant princes and teach those metropolitan 
 bankers wisdom were Dr. Briggs and Bishop Potter 
 • — two men whose knowledge of business chiefly con- 
 sists in preaching eleemosynary sermons, passing 
 around the hat and drawing their salaries. But this 
 only shows what wonderful men we clergymen are. 
 If in the things of which we know the least, we are 
 able to instruct the wisest, what must our knowledge 
 be in our own special field of theology! Goldsmith 
 understood us when he wrote 
 
 "In argiiing, too, the parson owned his skill; 
 For e'en though vanquished he could argue stiU; 
 While words of learned length and thundering sound 
 Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around; 
 And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew. 
 That one small head could carry all he knew. ' ' 
 
 The ninth century put the whole realm of trade 
 under ban. The very idea of trade was declared to 
 be incompatible with the character of a gentleman 
 and the profession of a Christian. A tradesman was 
 
AT BOARD OF TRADE DINNER 195 
 
 a vulgar fellow, and buying and selling was a dis- 
 reputable occupation. The Council of Mayence, A. 
 D. 813, issued capitularies prohibiting clergymen from 
 all acts of trade and restraining religious persons from 
 going . near a market except to procure the actual 
 necessaries of life. "War and warlike sports were 
 the only pursuits thought worthy of a gentleman, 
 and the only engagements outside of his sacred duties 
 suitable to a clergyman were hunting and carousing. 
 
 But the ninth century was the culmination of that 
 defection from the truth of Christianity and lapse 
 into barbarism which we call the Dark Ages. It was 
 not so at the beginning. So far from any antagon- 
 ism between Christianity and trade, a certain affinity 
 existed between them at first. The chosen places 
 where Christianity first sought entrance and took 
 root were busy commercial cities like Antioch, Cor- 
 inth and Ephesus. The age of the first spread of 
 Christianity was a commercial age. The Holy Apos- 
 tles were nearly aU tradesmen and our blessed Lord 
 Himself was trained to be a handicraftsman. 
 
 Gentlemen, I wish to propose an inquiry. Is the 
 nienteenth century again approaching the attitude 
 of the ninth century in its condemnation of trade, 
 with this difference, that the condeimiation instead 
 of proceeding from the Church, now proceeds from 
 business men themselves, and instead of terminating 
 upon the inherent nature of trade, now terminates 
 upon the dishonest manner in which trade is carried 
 on? To my mind a very grave accusation is laid 
 
196 AT BOAED OF TEADE DINNBE 
 
 against trade, when it is deliberately said that no 
 man can do business at the present time and do it 
 successfully and at the same time be an honest man. 
 It is a fact to startle a thoughtful man when an in- 
 telligent grocer declares that coifee and spices are now 
 so uniformly adulterated and that spurious mixtures 
 are so invariably sold under the names of genuine 
 articles that no man can tell the truth about his 
 goods and sell them for what they reaUy are except 
 at a positive loss. It is a thing to make us pause when 
 a manufacturer can soberly aver that there is no 
 money, for him or any man, in making honest goods 
 and that the expression "an honest livelihood," in 
 trade at least, became long ago a contradiction in 
 terms. 
 
 Gentlemen, I feel a sense of impropriety in utter- 
 ing these sentences in your presence as your guest. I 
 seem to be somewhat in the condition of the boy who 
 confessed on his brother. The two brothers had been 
 straitly warned by their father against touching the 
 fruit on a certain pear tree. But the temptation was 
 too strong, and one night the boys robbed the tree. 
 Shortly after one of them was treated to a terrific 
 trouncing. He could not imagine how his father 
 found it out, and was wondering to his brother about 
 it, when the other, a saintly little fellow, said quite 
 promptly, "My conscience troubled me so that I went 
 and confessed it aU to father." "You did,^' said the 
 other, "Why then didn't you get a licking too?" 
 "0," said he, "I confessed it on you." 
 
AT BOARD OF TRADE DINNER 197 
 
 But the business man confesses on himself, not on 
 his brother. The charges I have repeated were all 
 taken from the lips of tradesmen. The authors of the 
 severest strictures upon business methods and busi- 
 ness morals are business men themselves. This shows 
 that the foundations are not worm-eaten as some 
 would have us believe. This shows that there is a 
 great deep underlying conscience in trade. It shows 
 that men love truth and righteousness and hate lies 
 and are determined ia some way to squeeze lies out 
 of their business. I do not know what is your plan 
 for accomplishing this, but I rather suspect it is your 
 idea that this is something that will not be effected 
 by prayer alone, that it will require one to add to his 
 faith virtue, and to his prayer works. I suspect that 
 your doctrine here is something like that of the old 
 colored man in Princeton who was asked by a divinity 
 student if he had a turkey on Thanksgiving Day. 
 "0, yes, massa," he said, "I had turkey." Upon 
 being asked where he got it, he said, "I prayed for 
 dat turkey, but no turkey done come. So I prayed 
 de Lord to send me after dat turkey, and bress de 
 Lord, I had free turkey afore mornin '. ' ' 
 
 Gentlemen, there was a time in this country when 
 men did not look or expect to be rich in a few 
 years. There was a time when men and women were 
 not so very anxious to be rich, when they counted it 
 enough to have a wholesome living, a well-furnished 
 mind, a strong, healthy family of children and a few 
 thousands of dollars laid aside for old age. There 
 
198 AT BOARD OF TRADE DINNER 
 
 was a time when there were no Napoleons in finance 
 and men knew nothing about speculating with other 
 people's money and escaping the payment of their 
 debts. There was a time when men expected to thrive 
 in no other way than by honest industry, frugal 
 habits, careful savings, prudent investments and 
 gradual accumulation. "We cannot now return to the 
 narrow conditions, slow movements and small opera- 
 tions of the past. But we can return, and we shall 
 never be happy men and prosperous men until we do 
 return, to the practice of the old-fashioned virtues of 
 industry, temperance, frugality, fidelity and reason- 
 able self-denial. 
 
GREETING TO THE CONGREGATION. 
 
 I fancy you can hardly appreciate the joy I feel 
 in worshipping together with you all here this morn- 
 ing. I am sure you would think me emotional and 
 extravagant were I to give full expression to the feel- 
 ings of my heart at this moment. I think of the 
 experience of my boyhood when returning from a 
 long absence at school I caught from a hilltop in the 
 road the first glimpse of my father's house. 
 
 We have had one of the most delightful holidays 
 of my whole life. And one of the things that has 
 made it exceptionally delightful is that it was largely 
 the gift of your love and generosity. The cup has 
 been sweet because your hands mingled it. It was 
 with a thrill of joyous surprise that we received your 
 largesse on setting out, and every dollar seemed to be 
 an expression of your unfailing attachment as it was 
 spent. 
 
 The scenes also among which we traveled con- 
 tributed to the enjoyment of our holiday. We spent 
 the greater portion of our time, as we planned, in 
 the high Alps, in Normandy and on the coast of North 
 Devon . On another occasion I may have something 
 to say about each one of these localities, but this 
 morning my heart is so full of the joy of simply see- 
 ing you once more and anticipating another year of 
 
 On return from European Travel, Sept., 1903. 
 
 199 
 
200 GREETING TO CONGREGATION 
 
 love and labor that I have no memory of the past. 
 You have often heard me say that the minister's lot 
 is the happiest in the world, but never have I realized 
 it more fully than at this moment. To work with 
 the best people for the best objects under the best 
 Master, what can be happier than that? 
 
 But turning to the duties of the present, I am 
 pleased to see that devoted hands and skillful minds 
 have been at work in my absence restoring and beauti- 
 fying the rooms of the Church, and preparing all 
 things for a new year of Church life and Church 
 work. One has only to glance at these improvements 
 to feel not only that a good work has been done, but 
 that it has been done under the personal supervision 
 of constant watchful eyes, jealous of the Church and 
 her interests. 
 
 And now what remains but that we all, pastor 
 and people, younger and older, men, women and chil- 
 dren, unite in offering ourselves, body, soul and spirit 
 to the possession and service of the Lord Jesus Christ ? 
 friends! I feel that Jesus Christ from His Cross 
 and from His Throne is just now making His strong 
 and tender appeal to the whole of our life and that 
 He is offering the whole of Himself to be appropri- 
 ated by the whole of ourselves. He is offering His 
 life to enlarge ours, His Divinity for our Humanity, 
 His Power for our weaknesses. His victories for our 
 defeats ; and just in proportion as we grasp this fact, 
 and believe that Jesus Christ is ours, and that He ap- 
 peals to the highest and noblest in us, wiU He be 
 
GREETING TO CONGREGATION 201 
 
 able to lead us into the fullness of His own power 
 and holiness. Some of you have doubts and hesi- 
 tancies, some of you complain that you cannot see all 
 things clearly. No more can I. But One we can all 
 see, Jesus Christ, once on the Cross, now on the 
 Throne. Let us not wait to solve doubts or to clear 
 away our obscurities. Let us come immediately to His 
 feet and surrender aU our faith and will and whole 
 life to Him. So will doubts dissolve themselves, and 
 darkness become light in His presence. 
 
 "I have a life witli Christ to live. 
 
 But, ere I live it, must I wait 
 Till learning can clear answer give 
 
 Of this or that book's date? 
 I have a life in Christ to live, 
 
 I have a death in Christ to die; — 
 
 And must I wait till science give 
 
 All doubts a full reply? 
 
 Nay, rather, while the sea of doubt 
 Is raging wildly round about, 
 Questioning of life and death and sin. 
 Let me but creep within 
 Thy fold, O Christ, and at Thy feet 
 
 Take but the lowest seat. 
 And hear Thine awful voice repeat 
 In gentlest accents, heavenly sweet, 
 
 Come unto Me, and rest; 
 
 Believe Me, and be blest." 
 
APPEAL FOR FUNDS FOR THE DECORATION 
 OF THE CHURCH. 
 
 My friends, we have felt for several years that this 
 church, this audience room, ought to be renovated and 
 beautified. It is now thirty-two years since these 
 walls were first finished, and nothing, or almost noth- 
 ing, has been done to them in all that time. The out- 
 side of the building was thoroughly repaired and re- 
 habilitated two years ago, and considerable money has 
 since been expended in perfecting the heating and 
 ventilating apparatus, so that everything about the 
 building may be said to be in good order for many 
 years. 
 
 Everything except these inner walls, which remain 
 as they were, cracked and marred and faded and 
 stained and soiled. This was once a beautiful sanctu- 
 ary. It enjoyed the distinction of being the most 
 noble and beautiful place of God in the city. But 
 it has come now to have a different distinction. It 
 has come to be the most shabby and ill-conditioned of 
 all the city churches. The remark of strangers upon 
 entering it is no longer "What a beautiful church 
 this is!", but "What a beautiful church this might 
 be!" Truly it might be. This sanctuary is capable 
 of being restored to its original eminence. 
 
 We have felt for several years, as I said, the neces- 
 
 Made at Sunday morning service, April, 1895. 
 
 202 
 
APPEAL FOR CHURCH DECORATION 203 
 
 sity of doing this work. But two years ago it was 
 postponed for the sake of building the tabernacle for 
 the Mills meetings. One year ago it was deferred 
 again on account of the financial stringency of the 
 times. This year the financial conditions are perhaps 
 less favorable than last year. And I suppose we 
 should have postponed this work a third time, had not 
 a liberal member of the congregation come forward of 
 his own will and offered to subscribe one thousand 
 dollars toward beautifying this church, on condition 
 that the work should be done this summer. 
 
 This the Trustees of the Society and others aU felt 
 was indeed a generous proposal, and one not to be 
 lightly forfeited. The more it was considered the 
 more it was felt that with such a beginning the work 
 could be done now and done more easily than at any 
 future time. And it was resolved to accept the offer 
 with gratitude on behalf of the Society, and proceed 
 at once to the work. 
 
 The first thing is to provide the funds necessary for 
 the work. After this is done the work of beautifying 
 the church will be put into the hands of a competent 
 committee, who will have charge of it and will see 
 that it is done in an acceptable manner. But the 
 first thing is to collect the money. Estimates of the 
 expense have already been obtained, and it is found 
 that including such preparation for the work as the 
 scaffolding, and including the renovation of the lec- 
 ture-room, parlors, Sunday-school rooms and passage- 
 ways, it wiU be necessary to have in hand at least 
 
204 APPEAL FOE, CHUECH DECOEATION 
 
 five thousand dollars. A soliciting committee has 
 
 already been appointed, eonsistiag of These 
 
 gentlemen will visit personally as many of the congre- 
 gation as they conveniently can, and afterwards every 
 member of the congregation wiU be asked to have a 
 part in the good work. 
 
 Now, my friends, we are going to give something 
 to beautify this House of God, where we have received 
 so much of all that is holiest and best ia our lives, 
 and where our children will kneel and worship and 
 put on their garments of holiness after we have fin- 
 ished our labors and entered into our rest. Oh, how 
 great these cathedral-like structures are! Great as 
 witnesses to the undying truths of the Christian 
 faith ; greater still in their subtle silent influence over 
 the lives of men and women, younger and older. Men 
 rise and fall, preachers live and die; but here these 
 walls stand above the smoke and storm, above the 
 din of noisy streets, above things which are fair and 
 beautiful and things which are base and mean. Here 
 they stand, and in a manner which seems sometimes al- 
 most patient and pathetic they testify of the higher life 
 of the soul and bear witness to the power of prayer 
 and point to the Father's house on high. Oh, there 
 is no object to which it is a greater satisfaction to me 
 to give than to a noble church of Jesus Christ. 
 
 "We cannot raise this money at this time without 
 feeling it, my friends. We cannot raise it without 
 giving to the point of self-denial, and I am not sorry 
 for that. No giving is so dear to God and none is so 
 
APPEAL FOR CHURCH DECORATION 205 
 
 blessed to the giver as that which is mingled with 
 self-denial. I do not know what the Master will say 
 at the last to us ministers who never asked our people 
 to deny themselves for Him. I do not know what the 
 people themselves will say when they learn what 
 they have lost in not denying themselves for the 
 Saviour. I want you to make sacrifices. Oh, I could 
 wish that this whole church were frescoed with sacri- 
 fice. I could wish that every window through which 
 God's light streams in were a sacrifice-window, and 
 that every sacred object upon which the light falls 
 were a gift of sacrifice. 
 
 One thing more — ^this work is not to be done by a 
 few. We must all claim a part in this good work. 
 Every man and woman and child must be able to say 
 hereafter, "I had a part in the beautifying of the 
 place of my Saviour's Feet." There must be not 
 only one hundred and two hundred dollar subscrip- 
 tions, but also ten and five and one dollar ones 
 
APPEAL FOR CONFESSION OF THE 
 LORD JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 Dear friends, I want to say a few words to some 
 of you this morning as it were face to face. I want 
 to ask you to settle the great question of your salva- 
 tion at this time by accepting Jesus Christ as your 
 Lord and Saviour and becoming His confessed fol- 
 lowers and saved souls henceforward and forever. 
 
 I am deeply concerned for some of you. I have 
 preached the Gospel of God's love to you year after 
 year and have seen you coming near to the Kingdom 
 of God and yet stopping just short of passing in. 
 You seem to me to be standing at this moment where 
 one decided step would bring you into the sphere 
 of God's light and peace, and make you possessors of 
 everlasting life. Your right convictions of truth, 
 your attractive moral virtues, your natural associa- 
 tions in life, are such as bring you near to the gospel 
 of salvation. There is but a line between you and 
 eternal life on earth and in heaven, and one step 
 may cross it. 
 
 I look into your faces and think of the young man 
 whom Jesus once looked upon and loved and then said 
 to him, "One thing thou laekest." "What that young 
 man lacked, what you lack, is that one act of free 
 choice and deliberate decision which God never will 
 
 Made in the First Church, Binghamton, February, 1907. 
 
 206 
 
APPEAL FOR CONFESSION OF CHRIST 207 
 
 dispense with nor ever force upon any soul of man, 
 the act of simply puttiag yourself into the hand of 
 God's mercy and choosing and confessing Jesus Christ 
 as your Lord and Saviour. So much you must do. 
 Without submission and confession no man shall see 
 the Lord. Think of going into the presence of a 
 King to whom you have never declared your alle- 
 giance. Think of resting your eyes upon a Saviour 
 whose dying love you have never owned by one word 
 of confession. "Whosoever shall confess me before 
 men, him will I also confess before my Father which 
 is in heaven. But whosoever shall deny me before 
 men, him will I also deny before my Father which is 
 in heaven." 
 
 my brother, my sister, when I see how God in 
 great mercy has brought you near to the Gospel Feast 
 and has placed the vacant chair at the Table and 
 is waiting, waiting, waiting to hear you simply say, 
 "I will take it, I receive Thee, Lord Jesus, with all 
 my heart and will be Thine forever" — ^when I think 
 of the great overshadowing eternity and the tremend- 
 ous realities of life and death, of blessedness and 
 misery which it contains for every one of us, and then 
 when I think that to put any one of you right with God 
 needs but one humble noble step and that the step 
 may be taken this hour in the secret of the soul, I 
 cannot lay down my charge of this Church without 
 throwing the arms of my heart aroimd each one of 
 you and entreating you to be reconciled to God by 
 at once accepting and confessing Jesus Christ Whom 
 
208 APPEAL FOR CONFESSION OF CHRIST 
 
 He lias given to be your Saviour. friends, Jesus 
 Christ reaUy loves you, has loved you long. Jesus 
 Christ died for you. Jesus Christ even now is bending 
 over you with eyes of inexpressible solicitude. Shall 
 He not see you deciding for Him this morning? 
 Shall He not see you coming to His feast of love an 
 earnest confessing Christian, the sure pledge that He 
 has chosen you and that you will enter Heaven at 
 last? 
 
ADDRESS AT HOLY COMMUNION. 
 
 Once more, dear friends, we are called into our 
 Saviour's banqueting-house. Once more His gra- 
 cious voice is heard in our ears, "Eat, friends; 
 drink, yea, drink abimdantly, beloved." Be the 
 answer of our hearts "Draw us, Lord, and 'we will 
 run after thee; we will rejoice and be glad in thee; 
 we will remember thy love more than wine. ' ' ' 
 
 This feast is a reality. This approach to the Lord's 
 table is an actual transaction between our sinful 
 needy persons and the aU-holy, all-blessed Person, 
 our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Let us try to 
 master that thought in the first place. The world 
 looks upon Jesus as dead. It regards Him as a person 
 who once lived but is living no longer. It reads His 
 life and death as it reads the life and death of 
 Socrates, finding many touching and impressive 
 things in it, but not accounting that the Author of 
 it is at this moment a secret invisible Presence not far 
 from any one of us and willing to manifest Himself 
 graciously to all who seek Him in faith and love and 
 adoration . 
 
 Dear friends, what a thought it is that we are actu- 
 ally coming into the inunediate presence of the same 
 divine Person whom Nicodemus visited by night, 
 whom Mary and Martha lodged and loved at their 
 
 December, 1877. 
 
 209 
 
210 ADDKESS AT HOLY COMMUNION 
 
 home in Bethany, whom St. John leaned upon at the 
 Supper, whom so many sick and helpless in Galilee 
 sought and not one was turned empty away! What 
 holy awe, what reverence, what faith, what expecta- 
 tion, ought to fill and animate our inmost souls! 
 Nothing seems to me so sad and sinful too as that 
 we should come to this feast and go away unblessed 
 simply for not realizing what we are doing, for not 
 setting our minds upon its significance and opening 
 our hearts to believe that which is freely given unto 
 us. 
 
 But I will tell you what I have found. I have 
 found that I never feel Christ to be a reality in this 
 sacrament until I first feel Him to be a necessity. 
 Just in proportion as I fcaow my need of Him I am 
 made to know His grace to me. He presents Him- 
 self to me as I present myself to Him. "When I come 
 to this table sensible of my utter ill-desert and utter 
 impenitence, feeling that I am wholly lost and that 
 Christ is aU there is left to me, conscious that I de- 
 serve nothing and almost fearing to ask or expect 
 anjiihing, precisely at such times, when I am at my 
 lowest, Christ appears at His greatest, arrayed in the 
 full honors of His infiiiite compassion and almighty 
 sufficing. He gives me pardon and righteousness, 
 peace and joy in the Holy Ghost. He gives me a 
 sense of union with Himself in an eternal friendship. 
 The sacrament becomes a real and blessed intercourse 
 of spirit with spirit, of want with grace, of the human 
 with the divine. 
 
ADDRESS AT HOLT COMMUNION 211 
 
 Another thing I have found. I have foimd that 
 both my necessity and Christ's reality are then most 
 felt by me when I dwell most thoughtfully and thank- 
 fully upon His sufferings in my behalf. It is very 
 happy to gather inside of the Christian sanctuary and 
 sit down with one another in holy fellowship under 
 the sheltering atonement of our Saviour and the 
 protecting favor of our heavenly Father. Very 
 happy, but ah, dear friends, it has cost something. It 
 has cost something to give us this table, this com- 
 munion of the saints, these spiritual positions, these 
 heavenly hopes. Gethsemane and Pilate's judgment- 
 haU and Golgotha gave us these. "We sit here to-day 
 and confess our sins and put away our fears and re- 
 joice in hopes because the Son of God hung on three 
 great wounds untH He died. 
 
 But while we think with awe and amazement of 
 the expense of our salvation we must also think with 
 confidence and satisfaction of its completeness. No 
 wonder this is a great and incomprehensible feast. 
 No wonder that gifts of pardon and eternal life are 
 bestowed here freely as the sun gives light and the 
 clouds rain. No wonder that for the chief of sinners 
 forgiveness is made ready and joy prepared. This is 
 a feast of the sacrifice of the equal and eternal Son 
 of God. 
 
 One thought further which comes with the season. 
 It is our last communion service of the year. Six 
 more of these gifts of the Son of God are numbered 
 with the things of the past. It is no inconsiderable 
 
212 ADDEESS AT HOLY COMMUNION 
 
 portion of the longest life among us. To some it is 
 undoubtedly more than remains. Let us seek to-day 
 fuller and higher consecration. These offered tokens 
 encourage us. They promise forgiveness for the past 
 and strength for a higher, holier life in the future. 
 They assure us that if we will but believe and give 
 ourselves wholly up to seek God's pleasure and to do 
 His will we shall be able at life's end to say with 
 confidence "It is finished," not with our own feeble 
 tremulous voice, but in the strong full-toned resonant 
 cry of our Lord and Kedeemer. 
 
THE LOVE OP GOD. 
 
 A Children's Sermon. 
 
 Something happened the other day, or rather some- 
 thing was said about preaching to children and about 
 the effect of a sermon to children in this Church, that 
 made me think I should like to take up again my 
 custom of speaking a few words to you boys and 
 girls at this point in the service. And when I asked 
 myself ""What shall I speak about?" one thing ran 
 up and crowded all others back, saying "Speak to 
 the children about me, speak about me." The thing 
 which so took possession of me and asked for speech 
 was The Love of God. This is what Solomon said of 
 love, "Many waters cannot quench love, neither can 
 the floods drown it : if a man would give all the sub- 
 stance of his house for love, it would utterly be con- 
 temned." And this is what an old African woman, 
 who had known about the love of God from a mis- 
 sionary, said: — "If I were to go to yonder forest and 
 cut down all the trees and make a long, long ladder 
 of them and then take it and set it upon the highest 
 mountain, I could not reach the top of God's love. 
 And if I were to dig all the iron out of the earth 
 and make the longest of long chains and then go down 
 with it into a deep well, I could not get to the bottom 
 of God's love. It is like the sunlight at noonday, 
 
 "Preachea in the First Presbyterian Chnreli, Bingliainton, 1898. 
 
 213 
 
214 A CHILDEEN'S SERMON 
 
 all around you and above you and before you and 
 behind you. It is forgiveness and strength and glad- 
 ness, and to believe it is to be saved. ' ' 
 
 Love is of two kinds or orders, a higher and a 
 lower, and one creates the other. There is the love 
 which God has to us, and there is the love which we 
 have or ought to have to God and to one another. It 
 is the former, it is God's love to us, which is the 
 wonderful thing. One told me the other day of a 
 little boy who asked his mother "Do you love me?" 
 ' ' Of course I do, " she replied, kissing him again and 
 again. "Put your hand to my heart and feel how 
 full it is of love for you." "Yes, I'm sure it is 
 there," he replied, "but I want to hear it come out 
 in speaking, I do." 
 
 Would you, children, like to hear God's love for 
 you come out in speaking? Tou have only to think 
 of the Lord Jesus, how He came out of God's heaven 
 and was born in a stable and laid in a manger and 
 spent His life doing good and died on the Cross for 
 us. Yes, this is the way of it. God is love. God's 
 infinite unfathomable heart is full of love to you, to 
 me, to all, and when He took out of His bosom all the 
 Son He had and freely gave Him up for us all, that 
 was just God's love coming out in speaking so that 
 we could hear it down here and believe it and be saved 
 by believing it. And this is what it is and all it is 
 to be a Christian. It is to believe this love which 
 God has to us and has spoken out to us in Christ. 
 It is to believe the great love of God and let it flow 
 
A CHILDEEN'S SEEMON 215 
 
 from the Cross of Christ into our hearts, taking away 
 all our sios, fiUiag us to the brim and constrainiag us 
 to say, ' ' Thou who lovest me with everlasting love, 
 take me, and make me good and useful." 
 
 Children, when we have received this great love of 
 God iuto our hearts, we can no longer be hard and 
 wicked and selfish. The new heart is given us— we 
 forget about self and think about pleasing the Lord 
 Jesus and making others happy for His sake. I think 
 I can make this plain to you by a story. 
 
 It is about the master of a ship who was sailing in 
 the African Seas and had aboard his vessel a lot of 
 rescued slaves. They were poor, ignorant, unclean 
 things, naked, black, and almost as hideous as the 
 gorillas that swing about in the trees of Africa. 
 They were being carried back to their native land, 
 from which they had been stolen. They were lying 
 about in heaps, fed like animals and despised and 
 shunned by the very men who had rescued them. 
 
 The negroes imderstood that they were being car- 
 ried back to their homes to be set free, and they were 
 glad of that, but they were not happy, for they felt 
 they were despised by the Englishmen, and they were 
 human beings with hearts that could suffer. One 
 bright still day as the ship was slowly moving over 
 the placid sea there was heard a thud and a splash. 
 It could only mean one thing. One of the slaves had 
 fallen overboard. The man nearest to the spot and 
 first to see it was the master of the ship. He was 
 dressed in the uniform of his rank, he belonged to a 
 
216 A CHILDREN'S SERMON 
 
 noble family, lie was a graduate of a great University 
 and had his admiralty certificates. But in one second 
 he was nothing but a man. He forgot his degrees, 
 his honors, his expectations. He forgot the great 
 weight of the helpless creature struggling in the 
 water. He forgot that the sea was full of sharks. 
 He forgot everything but the drowning man. Off 
 went his cap, his coat, and down into the water 
 plunged the officer. In an instant busy hands were 
 slackening the ship and lowering a boat while others 
 were leaning over the ship's side with pointed guns 
 reading to fire at the sharks. Hearts stood stiU. Men 
 held their breath. Seconds seemed like hours while 
 that brave captain was matching what seemed a 
 worthless negro with his own skill and strength and 
 imperilled life. Finally he slowly rose to the surface 
 with his heavy burden. A boat was instantly at the 
 spot and strong hands drew him up with the negro 
 into the boat and rowed them back to the ship. Then 
 when the master appeared on the ship and the ne- 
 groes all saw him wet and exhausted from saving one 
 of them from death a strange impulse took hold of 
 them. They began to breathe deep low sounds, they 
 crept near him, they stroked his legs, they touched 
 his hand with their finger-tips, they knelt and bowed 
 their faces at his feet, they wept like children, he 
 was so beautiful, so divine to them. They saw in him 
 the love of God coming out in speaking — ^he was an 
 image of the Crucified. 
 
 "When the officer arrived in England he found that 
 
A CHILDKBN'S SERMON 217 
 
 his deed had somehow gone before him. The nation had 
 honored him and the Royal Humane Society was wait- 
 ing to pin a medal on him. But a brighter medal 
 was the approval of Heaven and the pleasure in him 
 which the Lord Jesus pinned on his self-sacrificing 
 heart. Boys and girls of this congregation, what have 
 you done for Him who leaped into the sea of your 
 sins' consequences and rescued your souls from 
 everlasting death? The Royal Society of Heaven has 
 pinned a medal upon Him. But what have you done ? 
 0, I tell you that dearer to Him than the medals of 
 the angels would it be for you, boys and girls, to give 
 your hearts to Him. 
 
 "Glory to God in the highest." 
 
REPORT ON SYNODICAIj HOME MISSIONS. 
 
 Moderator and Brethren: 
 
 No Presbytery in the State of New York has greater 
 reason to be interested in Synodieal Home Missions 
 than the Presbytery of Binghamton. No other Pres- 
 bytery has so large a proportion of its churches de- 
 pendent on Synodieal aid. Of the 32 churches in 
 our Presbytery, 15 are found on the roll of Synodieal 
 Home Missions and two or three more are approach- 
 ing it. A full half of our Presbytery is simply one 
 broad mission field. 
 
 Now we aU appreciate the need of missions in for- 
 eign lands and the need of missions in the far west. 
 That need has the magic of romance upon it. That 
 need is sounded in our ears every day iu the year by 
 the most eloquent tongues of the church and nation 
 and it cannot be sounded too often or too loudly. 
 But here is a need invested with no glamour of ro- 
 mance, voiced by no golden tongues, a low plaiat 
 which we scarcely hear because it is so close at hand. 
 It has been observed by an earnest pleader for Syn- 
 odieal Missions as a strange thing iu some human 
 nature that a cry which comes from afar seems much 
 more affecting and appealing than when it is heard 
 from the next door. With some, as he remarks, ' ' The 
 need of Synodieal Missions is not far enough away to 
 
 ■ Presented to the Presbytery of Bingliamton on April 15, 1907. 
 
 218 
 
REPORT ON SYNODICAL MISSIONS 219 
 
 be appreciated." It is only over there in the next 
 town. It is only in that little hamlet we have always 
 known so well. Synodical Missions is like a prophet 
 in his own country, without honor, but not without 
 a special claim to be heard. 
 
 Consider the claim of Synodical Missions, what it 
 is. It is a family cry. It has the accent of a household 
 plea. It is the obligation to care for our own. They are 
 our own kith and kin, our own neighboring communi- 
 ties, places where some of us were bom, twice born, after 
 the flesh and after the Spirit, these little country 
 churches which year by year are being impoverished 
 and reduced by having their life blood drained away 
 to the cities. 
 
 They are our own comrades and chums, educated 
 with us in the same college and seminary, bound up 
 with us as brothers beloved in the same Presbyterial 
 fraternity, these missionary ministers who are figur- 
 ing and economizing and foregoing in trying to do 
 the work of their churches faithfully and maintain 
 their families on salaries of six hundred, five hundred, 
 four hundred dollars a year. 
 
 Brethren, it is time we awoke to a fuller apprecia- 
 tion of the difficulties and discouragements of the 
 ministers and memberships of our mission churches. 
 The ministers are isolated, without the sympathetic 
 touch of brother clasping the hand of brother to in- 
 spire and reinforce, without the surrounding atmos- 
 phere of responsiveness to aspirations and ideals to 
 kindle and inflame, too often without, with shame be 
 
220 EBPOET ON STNODICAL MISSIONS 
 
 it said, sufficient salaries, for what? To set their 
 minds at ease and liberate their powers; to lay on 
 their tables a new book now and then ; to taste the in- 
 vigorations of an occasional holiday? No, not that, 
 but without sufficient salaries to meet the first necessi- 
 ties of their households and to live and dress in such a 
 manner as to save them from humiliation in their own 
 eyes and disrespect in the eyes of the community. 
 
 And not only the ministers but the rural population 
 themselves are isolated and depressed by hard work, 
 by bad roads, by constant removal of helpful families, 
 by iavasion of foreign immigrants who care the least 
 for the interests of religion and traditions of the 
 church, by increasing indifference, illiteracy and de- 
 generacy. It is a pathetic sight if ever was one, a 
 church once strong and enthusiastic in its aims, hopes 
 and labors, once the cherished home and object of 
 faithful men and devoted women, gradually falling 
 into decay, growing weaker and weaker and finally 
 uttering its expiring breath from deserted aisles, 
 broken windows, and closed doors. These are the con- 
 ditions which Synodical Missions has to deal with, 
 which this agency alone is trying to meet, and thus 
 helping to solve what is called "the rural problem." 
 
 But, brethren, this is only one aspect of the matter. 
 There is another side. No grander opportunity is 
 there in the world, no higher work, than that which 
 is given to the missionary minister in these days. 
 For what is given him ? The people who belong to his 
 little church and whom he sees before him from Sun- 
 
EBPOET ON SYNODICAL MISSIONS 221 
 
 day to Sunday? The minister who limits his vision 
 and bounds his field in that way wiU be pretty sure 
 to carry about a sad countenance and a poor opinion 
 of his opportunity. But the minister who bounds his 
 parish by all the people within his reach whether 
 in the church or out of it, the minister who feels 
 as Calvin felt in Geneva that his opportunity is not 
 seized and his joy is not fulfilled until "Through 
 center and through outskirts every household is touch- 
 ed, every household believes, every household prays, ' ' 
 such a Synodieal missionary, whether in town or coun- 
 try, will never be without a great divine feeling of the 
 importance of his position and the magnitude of his 
 work. 
 
 Such a Synodieal missionary will have all the flam- 
 ing ardor, all the quenchless passion for men, all the 
 conscious nothingness in himself and conscious om- 
 nipotence in Christ which any foreign missionary ever 
 had. For he wiU be a shepherd caring not only for 
 his little flock of saved souls, but a shepherd going 
 out in the regions beyond and scouring the hiUs 
 and valleys for the unsaved and imsought. 
 (Financial details.) 
 
 The Committee has asked itself and asked the Pres- 
 bytery what course it should pursue in order to save 
 our missionaries from disappointment. Presbytery 
 has already answered this question by adopting a 
 courageous resolution which directs the Committee to 
 add ten per cent, to the various amounts required of 
 the churches in the present apportionment. This 
 
222 REPOET ON SYNODICAL MISSIONS 
 
 means that where the Committee has written $20 as 
 the church quota, the church shall write $22, where 
 it has asked $70, the church shall respond with $77, 
 where it has apportioned $100 the church shall make 
 its apportionment $110. 
 
 Brethren, will you do this? Will you all do it? 
 WiU you go home and lay this matter before your 
 congregations and plead with them for the sake of the 
 cause of Christ in our weak churches, and for the 
 sake of our half -supported missionary ministers, to be 
 generous and bear the burdens of others and so fulfil 
 the law of Him who died for us all? 
 
 G. Paesons Nichols, 
 Chadrmcm. 
 
AN ORDINATION CHARGE. 
 
 It is among the traditional tisages of our church, 
 that after a young man has been set apart to the holy 
 ministry by the lajong on of the hands of presbytery, 
 a solemn charge is delivered to him with reference to 
 his duties and obligations. 
 
 The word charge has a somewhat ominous sound. 
 To deliver a charge to a person gives the impression 
 of standing off and handing down to him his duties 
 and the obligations to their faithful performance. 
 
 But I do not wish to stand off from you to-night, 
 my son, I wish to stand by your side as a comrade and 
 companion in service. Nor do I wish to charge you. 
 To inspire, to encourage, to open a new view of your 
 work, to speak some word by which the ministry 
 should be exalted in your sight and endeared to your 
 heart forever, would be a joy indeed. But for charg- 
 ing I have small heart. 
 
 But though I may not deliver a charge I would like 
 to speak a few words with you about this ministry 
 in which by the grace of God both of us are now 
 servants. "What a great, solemn, blessed min- 
 istry it is! So great that no human being can meas- 
 ure it, so solemn that if its responsibilities were fully 
 weighed perhaps few persons would venture it, so 
 blessed that archangels wish to engage in it. It is 
 
 Given at the ordination of Robert Hastings Nichols, in the First 
 Presbyterian Church, Binghamton, October 11, 1901. 
 
 223 
 
224 AN OEDINATION CHARGE 
 
 the consecration of a life to the service of men in 
 their moral and spiritual interests. Its first, its most 
 important work is preaching. No other work of the 
 ministry compares with that of the pulpit. To make 
 his pulpit his throne, to concentrate all his intellectual 
 and spiritual forces upon his message, to make it the 
 business and joy of his life to preach, is the secret 
 of a successful minister. "What is your hobby?" a 
 lady asked Dr. Joseph Parker. "Preaching," he re- 
 plied. "Yes, I know, but apart from that." 
 "Madam, there is nothing apart from that." 
 
 What is preaching? Preaching is telling men the 
 good news that God has redeemed this world through 
 Jesus Christ. Preaching is proclaiming the truth of 
 God for man's redemption as it is revealed in the 
 Bible, embodied in Jesus Christ, illustrated, con- 
 firmed, corroborated by all nature, all science, all his- 
 tory, all philosophy, all art, all things in heaven and 
 earth. Preaching is God's power for the salvation of 
 mankind in this life and in that to come. 
 
 We are told that we make too much of preaching. 
 We are told that we ought to depend more upon 
 beautiful music, gorgeous robes, solemn services, im- 
 posing ceremonies. The whole questions turns on an- 
 other question — ^What is God's method of saving lost 
 men? If His method be music and robes and cere- 
 monies, if these things rather than preaching be the 
 power of God unto salvation, then we certainly ought 
 to quit preaching and devote ourselves to bands and 
 vestments and celebrations. But if St. Paul is right, 
 
AN ORDINATION CHARGE 225 
 
 if God has determiQed to save men by the foolishness 
 of preaching, then we must preach on and never quit 
 preaching until the vrhole world is brought into alle- 
 giance to Jesus Christ. 
 
 In thinking what you and I need most to preach 
 the Gospel as it ought to be preached, comes first to 
 my mind this, a Christ-filled life. By a Christ-filled 
 life I do not mean any second visitation of the Holy 
 Ghost or any new refinement of doctrine or experi- 
 ence. I mean a life quickened, illumined, energized 
 by the indwelling presence and power of Christ 
 through the Holy Spirit. I mean a burning heart of 
 divine love, a sovl aflame with the passion of glorify- 
 ing God and winning souls for Jesus Christ. 
 
 Dr. "Whyte, of St. George's, Edinburgh, tells us 
 how as a young minister he thought the preaching 
 power was the principal thing, but it was not until 
 after years of groping he learned that preaching 
 power has its chief root in spiritual life. We hear 
 about a blight upon the ministry. We hear about 
 ministers who after leaving the seminary sink down 
 year by year into a lowered tone of thought and aspi- 
 ration, into a dimming vision of truth and duty, into 
 a narrowed sphere of service and usefulness. We 
 hear about ministers becoming spent forces in middle 
 life. The reason is they do not see enough of God. 
 It is a blight of low spirituality. He who keeps the 
 sacred fire burning in his own heart will never lose 
 the power of kindling other hearts with life and heat. 
 Christ-filled preachers are life-imparting preachers. 
 
226 AN ORDINATION CHARGE 
 
 But there is no preaehing power where there is no 
 spirituality. 
 
 The second great thing of which I feel we ministers 
 have need is a firm grip of the Bible as the "Word of 
 God and a strong intellectual conception of the sys- 
 tem of divine truth which the Bible contains. It is a 
 happy thing that we have not to preach to needy men 
 our poor shallow selves, that we have a great divine 
 human Person to preach and a system of bright efful- 
 gent facts and truths round that Person. In the 
 transcendent facts of Jesus Christ's incarnation, life, 
 death, resurrection; in the wonderful truths revealed 
 by Jesus Christ and His apostles concerning God, 
 man, sin, grace, salvation, repentance, faith, love, the 
 Holy Spirit, the future everlasting life, in these is 
 hidden the power of Christianity, the power of 
 preaching. The minister who grasps with head and 
 heart these heaven-given facts and truths will not 
 only be a strong man himself, he wiU help others to 
 be strong and happy and he will never exhaust his 
 subject. But the preacher who fails to draw from 
 these eternal spring-heads is doomed to failure as 
 surely as one of our summer brooks is doomed to run 
 dry in July. 
 
 Effective preaching comes of vigorous thinking 
 and whole-souled believing in God's word. "Noth- 
 ing odd lasts," says Dr. Johnson. "Nothing odd 
 lasts. ' ' But the old old Book lasts, the great dear 
 sad Cross lasts, and just as long as we bring the 
 Book and the Cross to man's need, man's sin, man's 
 
AN ORDINATION CHARGE 227 
 
 heart-lmnger, our preaching wiU last. But where the 
 Bible is treated as mere literature and the Cross is 
 hidden out of sight, where thought is vague and faith 
 is dead, there may continue to be reasoning and moral- 
 izing, but preaching which is the power of God unto 
 salvation cannot possibly be. It has been said that 
 "the true preacher is he who deals out to his people 
 his own life passed through the fire of thought. " The 
 statement contains at once a positive error and a pro- 
 found truth. The error is the assumption that the 
 preacher deals out his own life. The profound truth 
 is the implication that whatever a man reaUy preaches 
 to others must first have passed through the fire of 
 his own thought and fed his own soul. "We are not 
 merely mouth organs and trumpets, my brother. The 
 truth of God is not merely taken into our intellects 
 and blown out through our mouths. If we be real 
 genuine preachers, our message, before ever we utter 
 it, has gone down into all the deepest places of our 
 life and experience and so goes out from us informed 
 and infused with all the strength of conviction and 
 fire of earnestness that is in us. We wiU revise Dr. 
 Clifford's statement, and say the true preacher is he 
 who deals out to his people the truth and grace of 
 God passed through the fires of his own thought and 
 experience . 
 
 There is another thing we need in order to preach 
 the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ as it ought to be 
 preached. We need a spirit of abounding sympathy 
 with men. Our message must "not only thrill with 
 
228 AN OEDINATION CHARGE 
 
 heaven but throb with earth." Think what a heart 
 of sympathy pulsated in every tone and quivered in 
 every look of the Lord Jesus. Think how graciously 
 He preached on the mountain sides and by the lake 
 shores of Galilee. We read that the people wondered 
 at the gracious words that proceeded out of His 
 mouth. It is said that the people pressed around Him 
 to hear the word of God. Do you not suppose that 
 they would press around us if we could preach it as 
 simply, as lovingly, as sympathetically as He did? 
 
 What does the modem pulpit want? Why do not 
 more people go to church? One says it is this, an- 
 other says it is that. Many reasons are given, but 
 I believe we lack one thing. I believe every church 
 in Binghamton would be filled morning and evening 
 if we ministers had hearts so full of all sympathy 
 with men that we seemed to bring God right down 
 to their sides as a Friend and Helper in every time 
 of need. Said Henry Ward Beeeher, "You can open 
 a church in a bam and let a voice go out from it that 
 has the power of touching men, and you will find it 
 crowded and thronged." It is true — ^men want to 
 be touched. If we ministers do not think too much 
 of the iatellect, we do at least think too little of the 
 heart. We preach as if men were aU brain, but the 
 fact is they are heart and quivering sensibility. 
 People have longings, yearnings, sorrows. Only a 
 few people care about elaborate arguments and fine 
 writing. The great mass of people want God brought 
 down to their weary heavy-laden hearts — ^men want 
 
AN OEDINATION CHARGE 229 
 
 s3Tnpatliy, they want it. Five sentences spoken out 
 of a heart full of burning love for souls are worth 
 more than a whole sermon of ingenious conclusions 
 and painfully rounded periods. "Who was it that wrote 
 
 "It is the heart and not the brain 
 That to the highest doth attain" — 
 
 It is a mistake. It is the heart soaking through 
 the brain that to the highest doth attain. 
 
 Sympathy, the power of so putting myself in 
 others' places and others' lives, the gift of so taking 
 up into my heart others' sins and sorrows and bearing 
 them on my heart that every look and act of mine 
 seems to say, "Who is weak and I am not weak? 
 Who suffers and I am not in pain? Who is made to 
 stumble and I bum not?" — what marvelous iasight a 
 man so endowed has ! What eyes to see hidden tears ! 
 What ears to hear dumb sorrows ! And how such a man 
 brings the heavenly into the earthly and the divine 
 near to the human when he preaches! It has been 
 said that a preacher without sympathy is a bird with- 
 out wings. He is worse than that — ^he is a bird with- 
 out a song, a messenger without a message, an angel 
 without his radiance upon him. It is sympathy, di- 
 vine sympathy in the preacher you love to hear which 
 makes you feel when you leave the church that the 
 Christ has been really with you. 
 
 Do you remember Jean Ingelow's poem, "Brothers 
 and a Sermon"? 
 
230 AN ORDINATION CHARGE 
 
 "I have heard many speak, but this one man, 
 So anxious not to go to Heaven alone — 
 This one man I remember, and his look, 
 Till twilight overshadowed him. He ceased. 
 And out in darkness with the fisher folk 
 We passed, and stumbled over mounds of moss. 
 And heard but did not see the passing beck. 
 Ah I graceless heart, would that it could regain 
 From the Aivn store-house of sensations past 
 The impress full of tender awe, that night, 
 Which fell on me. It was as if the Christ 
 Had been drawn down from Heaven to track us home, 
 And any of the footsteps following us 
 Might have been His." 
 
 "We have need of another element to preach Jesus 
 Christ as He ought to be preached. We need to be 
 enthusiasts, genuine soulful enthusiasts for Christ. 
 How can we hold up before the world the great 
 Enthusiast from Heaven unless our lives have been 
 touched with the chrism from on high? Theologians 
 can teach theology, philosophers can discourse upon 
 philosophy, and moralists can moralize. But to preach 
 Jesus Christ needs a man so full of enthusiasm for 
 Christ and for humanity that it tingles to the ends 
 of his fingers and overruns everything. Fire kindles 
 fire. Life propagates life. Energy creates energy. 
 St. Paul full of Jesus Christ, quivering in every fibre 
 of his intense nature at the sight of the sacrifice of 
 the Cross, burning like a torch held aloft with love 
 for souls, what a power is such a man to rescue lost 
 men and draw them up upon the Rock of Ages! I 
 am told that by some clergjrmen it is not thought good 
 
AN ORDINATION CHARGE 231 
 
 form to be enthusiastic. God pity the manikias with 
 white ties! Shall the hills run down with streams 
 when the sun touches the snow upon them, shall the 
 vine burst iuto leaves and the grass iuto, greenness 
 and all the birds into singing when the new life of 
 spring rushes through them, and shall human souls 
 whom God has touched with the love of Christ and 
 made ambassadors to their lost brothers, be ashamed 
 to break into glowing utterances and fiery spiritual 
 ardors for Him who loved them and died for them? 
 Think of the enthusiasm which Columbus felt for 
 discovery, which Raphael felt for art, which Darwin 
 felt for science, which Carlyle felt for reality. Is 
 there no reason why ministers should be enthusiasts 
 for Christ? 
 
 We read how Francis of Assisi in the flower of 
 his age, young, rich, brave, waked one night on the 
 eve of conflict, his sword and shield and armor shin- 
 ing in the moonlight, and heard a voice saying "For 
 whom are you going to fight, Francis ? Tou are going 
 to fight for a fellow creature, but I am your Lord, 
 your Creator, your God— I ask you to come and fight 
 for Me." The young knight sprang from his bed, 
 battled in vain with that peremptory vision, and 
 finally, throwing himself on his knees, cried, "I am 
 thine, to thee I consecrate my life." From that hour 
 to his dying day Francis of Assisi was an enthusiast 
 for Christ. And what a light he was in those dark 
 days! What wonders he wrought! How the very 
 animals, the beasts and birds, loved him! let us 
 
232 AN ORDINATION CHARGE 
 
 try to give God more rooin in us every day, and let us 
 try to do more every day for our Master to whom we 
 owe all things. It seems to me I have never made any 
 real sacrifice for Christ. I wiU never say that if I 
 had been a lawyer or a physician or a business man 
 I might have acquired wealth and distinction and in- 
 fluence. I will confess that I owe the best gifts I have 
 and the richest results of my life to the ministry of 
 the Cross of Christ. Serving Jesus Christ as His mes- 
 senger to my fellow men has made me aU that I am, 
 and ought to have made me a great deal more than I 
 am. 
 
 My son, I have waited for this hour. I thank God 
 for sparing my life to see it. It is a solemnly happy 
 hour in my existence. StiU more must it be in yours. 
 From this night to the night of your death lies a 
 reach of life unlike any part of your life hitherto. In 
 a real deep sense your life begins to-night. In the 
 new relation with the Lord Jesus Christ, in the new 
 relation with your fellow men which you have entered 
 to-night, lies aU that to you can make the difference 
 between a life nobly laid out and a wasted one, be- 
 tween the conqueror's consciousness of having fought 
 a good fight and the sense of failure and defeat. 
 
 But while you realize deeply the solemnities of this 
 hour let nothing hide from your eyes the vision of 
 the All-merciful Saviour bending over you with ten- 
 derest interest and sympathy, and longing to help you 
 to make this ministry what He intended it to be, "the 
 greatest blessing He ever gave the world." 
 
AN ORDINATION CHARGE 233 
 
 May He help you to be a better minister than I 
 have been. May He help yon to have larger thoughts 
 of His truth and grace, to have more self-forgettiag 
 love for the souls of men, to advance where we have 
 paused, to plant the Cross on heights which we have 
 failed to reach and to do nobly the work which some 
 of us, alas, have done so poorly and unworthily. May 
 He help you to do His work, to glorify His Name, to 
 win souls for His crown, and to have at last His ap- 
 proving word "Well done, good and faithful servant, 
 enter into the joy of thy Lord."