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SERMONS.

SERMONS

PREACHED IN THE CHAPEL OF HARROW SCHOOL.

BY THE

REV. H. MONTAGU BUTLER, D.D.
¦*•
HEAD MASTER OF HARROW SCHOOL,
AND LATL FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

SECOND SERIES.

Jlftmbxm :
MACMILLAN AND CO.
HARROW :
CROSSLEY AND CLARKE.
i860.

SERMONS

PREACHED IN THE CHAPEL OF HARROW SCHOOL.

REV. H. MONTAGU BUTLER, D.D.
!¦¦
HEAD MASTER OF HARROW SCHOOL,
AND LATE FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

SECOND SERIES.

Ifoiitam :
MACMILLAN AND CO.
HARROW :
CROSSLEY AND CLARKE.
1869.

LONDON :
CLAV, S0NS, AND TAYLOR, PKINTHKS,
IJKEAI) STREET HILL.

Mwxa

TO

THE REV. CANON WESTCOTT

| testrib i^ris t&alxam ,

IN GRATEFUL RECOGNITION OF HIS

MEMORABLE SERVICES,

HIGHER LIFE OF HARROW.

CONTENTS. SERMON I.
HOUSES OF THE POOR.
St. John x. 16. — And other skeep I have, which are not of this fold: ,
them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice ; and
there shall be onefold, and one shepherd . ... . i
SERMON II.
JACOB AND ESAU.
Malachi i. 2, 3. — / loved Jacob, and I hated Esau . . . 12
SERMON III.
"VERILY, VERILY, I SAY UNTO YOU."
St. John vi. 53. — Verily, verily, I say unto you . 21
SERMON IV.
" LAWFUL, BUT NOT EXPEDIENT."
1 Corinthians vi. 12. — All things are lawful unto me, but all things
are not expedient .... . .  30

CONTENTS.

SERMON V.
ASCENSION DAY.
PAGE
St. Luke xxiv. 50, 51. — And He led them out as far as to Bethany,
and He lifted up His hands, and blessed them. And it came to
pass, while He blessed them, He was parted from them, and
carried up into heaven . .... . • ¦ 39

SERMON VI.
COMBINATION.
1 St. Peter iv. 10. — As every man hath received the gift, even so
minister the same one to another, as good stewards of the manifold
grace of God  '46

SERMON VII.
THE THINGS ABOVE.
Colossians iii. 2.- — Set your affection on things above, not on
things on the earth 54
SERMON VIII.
NOT FAR FROM THE KINGDOM OF GOD.
St. Mark xii. 34. — And when Jesus saw that he answered discreetly^
He said unto him, Thou art not far from the kingdom of God 63

SERMON IX.
ALL SAINTS.
Revelation xiv. 12, 13. — Here is the patience of the saints : here
are they tlrnt keep the commandments of God, and the faith of
Jesus. And I heard a voice from heaven sayingunto me, Write,

CONTENTS.

Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth : Yea,
saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours ; and
their works do follow them ... 71

SERMON X.
THE MISSIONARY.
2 Corinthians ii. 16. — And who is sufficient for these things ? 80
SERMON XI.
JOHN THE BAPTIST.
PSALM cxvi. 13. — Right dear in the sight of the Lord is the death of
His saints ¦ ¦ °9
SERMON XII.
WRESTLING WITH GOD.
Genesis xxxii. 26.— And he said, I will not let Thee go, except Thou
bless me ...... ¦ 9°
SERMON XIII.
WEAKNESS.
EPHESIANS vi. 10. — My brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the
power of His might  • IO°
SERMON XIV.
ADVENT.
Romans xiii. 12. — The night is far spent, the day is at hand . 1 14

CONTENTS.

SERMON XV.
LIFE. PAGE
St. Luke xii. 15. — A maris life consisteth not in the abundance of
the things which he possesseth ...  . . 121
SERMON XVI.
ST. THOMAS.
St. John xx. 24, 25. — But Thomas, one of the twelve, called
Didymus, was not with them when Jesus came. The other
disciples therefore said unto him, We have seen the Lord. But
he said unto them, Except I shall see in His hands the print of
the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and
thrust my hand into His side, I will not believe . . . . .127
SERMON XVII.
A "GOOD MAN."
Acts xi. 24. —For he was a good man, and full of the Holy Ghost
and of faith . ¦ ¦ ¦ . . . ... 135

SERMON XVIII.
HYMNS.
PsALM xlvii. 7. — God is the King of all the earth : sing ye praises
with understanding  ... . . . 142
SERMON XIX.
" IT DOTH NOT YET APPEAR."
r John iii. 2. — Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth
not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when He
shall appear, we shall be like Him ; for we shall see Him as
He is .  150

CONTENTS.

SERMON XX.
ENGLAND EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY. PAGE
St. Luke xvii. 10. — So likewise ye, when ye shall have done all
those things which are commanded, you, say, We are unprofitable
servants : we have done that which was our duty to do.
Psalm xliv. I.- — We have heard with our ears, 0 God, our fathers
have told us, what Thou hast done in their time of old . . .157

SERMON XXI.
A SOFT ANSWER.
PROVERBS xv. I. — A soft answer turneth away wrath . . . 163
SERMON XXII.
GOD'S WONDERS.
Psalm cxix. 18. — Open Thou mine eyes, that I may see the won
drous things of Thy law  .... . 169
SERMON XXIII.
UNBELIEF OF LIFE.
Psalm xlviii. 13. — For this God is our God for ever and ever. He
shall be our guide unto death . . ¦ . .... 176
SERMON XXIV.
"FOR MY BRETHREN AND COMPANIONS' SAKES."
Psalm cxxii. 8, 9. — For my brethren and companions' sakes, I will
wish thee prosperity. Yea, because of the house of the Lord our
God I will seek to do thee good  183

CONTENTS.

SERMON XXV.
THE SCENE IN SIMON'S HOUSE. PAGE
St. Luke vii. 47. — Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which
,are many, are forgiven ; for she loved much: but to whom
little is forgiven, the same loveth little  . 190

SERMON XXVI.
THE CROSS.
St. Mark viii. 34. — And when He had called the people unto
Him with His disciples also, He said unto them, Whosoever will
come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and
follow Me  197

SERMON XXVII.
HUMAN WISHES.
St. Luke xxii. 42. — Not My will, but Thine, be done  204
SERMON XXVIII.
GAMBLING.
St. Matthew vi. 21. — For where your treasure is, there will your
heart be also   211
SERMON XXIX.
EYE-SERVICE.
Efhesians vi. 6. — Not with eye-service, as men-pleaseis : but as the
servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart . . .218

CONTENTS.

SERMON XXX.
RICH AND POOR. PAGE
St. Luke xvi. 19, 20. — There was a certain rich man, which was
clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every
day : and there was a certain beggar named Lazarus, which was
laid at his gate, full of sores . . 224

SERMON XXXI.
PROGRESS.
Psalm lxxxiv. 7. — They will go from strength to strength . 230
SERMON XXXII.
NATIONAL EDUCATION.
Psalm Ixxviii. 5-7. — He made a covenant with Jacob, and gave
Israel a law, which He commanded our forefathers to teach
their children: that their posterity might know it, and the
children which were yet unborn ; to the intent that when they
came up, they might show their children the same . . 238
SERMON XXXIII.
DARKNESS.
Psalm cxxxix. 11.— The darkness and light to Thee are both alike 245
SERMON XXXIV.
THE FORGIVENESS OF SINS.
St Luke v. 12, 13. — And it came to pass, when He was in a
certain city, behold a man full of leprosy : who seeing Jesus

CONTENTS.

PAGE
fell on his face, and besought Him, saying, Lord, if Thou wilt,
Thou canst make me clean. And He put forth His hand, and
touched him, saying, I will : be thou clean. And immediately
the leprosy departed from him.
St. Luke v. 20. — And when He saw their faith, He said unto
him, Man, thy sins are forgiven thee .... ... 252

SERMON XXXV.
WHAT SHALL IT PROFIT?
St. Mark viii. 36. — What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain
the whole world, and lose his own soul? . . . 259
SERMON XXXVI.
FIGHTING FOR GOD.
Revelation xix. 11. — And I saw heaven opened, and behold a
white horse ; and He that sat upon him was called Faithful and
True, and in righteousness He doth judge and make war . 266

SERMON XXXVII.
PAGANISM.
EzEKIEL xx. 32. — And that which cometh into your mind shall not
be at all, that ye say, We will be as the heathen, as the families
of the countries, to serve wood and stone . . 275

SERMON XXXVIII.
THE EXPECTANTS.
Hebrews xi. 14. — They that say such things declare plainly that they
seek a country  . 2S2

CONTENTS.

SERMON XXXIX.
THE THREE COMINGS OF CHRIST.
PAGE
2 Peter iii. 4. — Where is the promise of His coming? 292

SERMON XL.
PUBLIC SCHOOLS:
THE CONDITIONS OF THEIR PERMANENCE.
Chronicles xvii. 26, 27. — And now, Lord, Thou art God, and
hast promised this goodness unto Thy servant: now therefore let
it please Thee to bless the house of Thy servant, that it may be
before Thee for ever: for Thou blessest, 0 Lord, and it shall
be blessed for ever . . ... 299

SERMON I.
HOUSES OF THE POOR.1
St. John *.. 16.
" And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold : them also I must
bring, and thty shall hear my voice ; and tliere shall be onefold, and
one shepherd."
I have undertaken to speak to you this evening on a
subject on which few of you can at present have thought
much, though few of you will reach the prime of manhood
without having it brought prominently before your notice-—
let me add, without having either to admit its claims on your
sympathy, or to push it deliberately aside as something in
which you are resolved not to be interested. You will find,
as you grow up, as you read and think and listen, that it is
a subject which is more and more forcing itself on the
attention of all thoughtful men and women, of all those
whose names appeal most loudly to your own admiration,
and seem most likely to descend to posterity. You will
find that it is a subject which interests not the- clergy alone,
who are forced to grapple with it; not physicians alone, who
have the best right to be appalled by its magnitude ; not
alone professional philanthropists, whether men or women,
-l Since this sermon was preached many important contributions have
been made to the cause which it advocates, notably by Sir S.. Waterlow's
enterprise, and the erection of the Peabody buildings. Some of the
statements respecting the two earlier Associations would doubtless need
to be modified to be consistent with present facts.

HOUSES OF THE POOR.

who feel that the civilization of England is a hollow piece
of inconsistency so long as it remains neglected and un
solved ; but also writers on political science, thinkers on the
laws of property, magistrates who are brought face to face
with crime, landlords who wish to do their duty, poets
whose sympathies with man are large, statesmen who aspire
to lay the foundations of their fame deep in the permanent
improvement of their countrymen.
I do not know that I ever felt more anxious that what I
am allowed to say from this place might be words of truth
and soberness, that they might be in harmony with the
mind of Christ, and might fall on some hearts prepared to
receive them.
How few of us, my brethren, ever think at all about that
enormous majority of our fellow-creatures who bear that
touching but indiscriminating title, the Poor! Is there
any fact which shows us more glaringly how wide is the
distance which separates our minds from the "mind of
Christ?" Read the Gospels, and you see human nature-as
it presents itself to the eye of divine love. The Saviour
seems to give no thought to high position, to wealth, to all
that we call " high* society," except to expose their insin
cerities, and to rebuke their selfishness. His heart is with
the poor. He is Himself a poor man. Poor men are the
great bulk of His followers, as they are indeed of every
large society. The " common people," that is, poor men,
were those who "heard Him gladly;" just as they are now
invariably the first to hail with joy the tones of any voice
that in the least resembles His. The crowning criterion of
His divine mission— we have it from His own lips ; we can
imagine the deep earnestness with which it was announced,
the strange surprise with which it was received— was none
other than this : "Ami He that was to come, or are you to
look for another ? To the poor the good tidings of God
are preached. Does not that set all doubt at .rest for ever ?"
Yes, there can be no question that the Saviour's heart is
with the poor, with those to whom little has been given,
and from whom man requires so much.

HOUSES OF THE POOR.

And our feelings towards them, your feelings, my brethren,
how vague they are. At best are they not feelings of
languid good-will, of good-natured pity? How often — I wish
you to think of this — are they feelings simply of frivolous,
must I not say of insolent, contempt. Are not the very
names by which you call them contemptuous ; uttered,
doubtless, thoughtlessly, in imitation of the conventional
language that you hear from others, but by that very fact
implying that the general standard by which they are
estimated is a standard wholly different from the standard
of Christ? You must first learn to think respectfully of
the poor, before you are able to appreciate the plea which
I urge in their behalf this day.
Adopting the Scriptural metaphor, our world seems
divided into two great folds, the fold of civilized society,
and the fold of what are called the "lower orders," the
"poorer classes," or the "masses;" and our strong tempta
tion is— a temptation indeed against which we scarcely care
to struggle — to be satisfied altogether with our own fold, to
try perhaps slightly to improve it when it comes within our
official sphere to do so, but to lose sight altogether of the
incomparably greater fold that owns the <common Shepherd,
to assume that it was never intended that there should be
any communion between the two, to forget that He has
said— for so surely we may venture to apply His words —
" Other sheep I have, which are not of this fold : them also
I must bring, and they shall hear my voice ; and there
shall be one flock, and one shepherd."
To-day we have to consider one attempt that is being
made to give practical effect to the conviction that Christ
knows nothing of two flocks, . and that it is the duty of
Christians to speed the time when this distinction shall be
removed ; I do not of course mean when there shall be no
distinction of rich and poor— practically, this is a permanent
distinction of human society, and we must not cry out
against it, but turn it to account— but when there shall be a
greater unity of spirit, when poverty will not be so abject as
to bar all communion of heart and mind with those who in
B 2

HOUSES OF THE POOR.

outward things are more favoured, still less so despised as
virtually to efface from the rich man's soul the conviction
that the poor man is his brother in a great family, and that
Christ is indeed the elder brother of both of them.
Those of you who know anything of large cities, nay,
those who in coming here or going home have ever walked
or driven through London with tolerably observant eyes,
must sometimes have noticed the savage, squalid look of
men, women, and boys that come out of the alleys opening
Out of so many of the largest streets. Often it is some
drunken brawl that calls the attention of the passer-by. 1
have frequently myself been stopped by loud shoutings
coming from a group of wild-looking quarrellers — men,
women, and children — where the only tolerably calm, I
might almost say the only really human bearing, to be dis
tinguished was that of the officer of the law attempting
good-naturedly to preserve order. It is probably some
quarrel between two inmates of the same house, not im
probably between a man and his wife ; and the neighbours
pour out into the alley, like beasts rather than human beings,
to laugh brutally over the outrage and to take part in the
uproar. And where do these beings come from ? The time
will come when some who hear me will be exploring these
scenes for themselves, as probably the parents of many of
them have explored them in person.
It would be simply impossible, even if I were sufficiently
familiar with the subject to speak with matured authority, to
give you anything like a detailed description of the unutter
able horrors which make the dwellings of thousands and
thousands of Englishmen a frightful blot on the character
of England. It is not well— certainly not for the young —
to be familiar with horrors. Such familiarity seldom leads
to exertion; and if it does not lead to exertion, it simply.
blunts the delicacy of the feelings. I shall therefore pass
very lightly over this portion of the subject, though it isof
course, on the abominable character of the dwellings of the '
poor that the work which we are to-day considering is
founded. You must be willing to take much for granted.

HOUSES OF THE POOR.

A few years ago I read myself a remarkable and terrible
statement on the subject, the substance of which has
ever since been impressed on my own mind. I could wish
that it might impress yours, and lead some of you, to whom
God may give the leisure and the opportunity, to turn the
impression into an active desire to labour for a remedy. It
is from the pen of a very eminent and eloquent medical
officer1 appointed to report to the Corporation of London on
the sanitary state of the City. It is dated 1850, but I fear
that its statements are but too true even now.
" Statistics," he says, "can give you no conception of this
crowding. You will find many single rooms in the City with
a larger number of inmates than you might otherwise ascribe
to entire houses. Instances are innumerable in which a
single room is occupied by a whole family — whatever may
be its number, and whatever the ages and sexes of the
children ; where birth and death go on side by side ; where
the mother in travail, or the child with small-pox, or the
corpse waiting interment, has no separation from the rest.
This is evil enough ; but worse remains behind." Some
thing worse even than this — this in the heart of the wealthiest
city that the world has ever seen; this in the centre of
a people that for ten centuries have called themselves
Christians. , .
And then he continues, this high-minded physician,
" The moral consequences " of this pestilential heaping of
human beings "are too dreadful to be detailed. I have
to deal with the matter only as it relates to bodily health;
Whatever is morally hideous and savage in the scene, what
ever contrast it offers to the superficial magnificence of the
metropolis, whatever profligacy it implies and continues,
whatever recklessness and obscene brutality arise from it,
whatever deep injury it inflicts on the community, whatever
* Reports relating to the Sanitary Condition of the City of Lohdon,
by John Simon, Esq., F.R.S., 1854. It is a pleasure to me to be
allowed to refer to the writings of this distinguished officer, with whom
I had the honour of being associated for a few months m a humble
capacity at the General Board of Health in 1856.

MOUSES OF THE POOR.

debasement or abolition of God's image in men's hearts is
tokened by it — these matters belong not to my office. Only
because of the physical sufferings am I entitled to speak ;
only because pestilence is for ever within the circle ; only
because Death so largely comforts these poor orphans of civi
lization. To my duty it alone belongs to tell you where
disease ravages the people under your charge, and where
fore ; but while I lift the curtain to show you this — a curtain
which propriety might gladly leave unraised" — what an irony
in the. mention of propriety in connexion with realities
such as these ! — "you cannot but see that side by side with
pestilence there stalks a deadlier presence, blighting the
moral existence of a rising population, rendering their
hearts hopeless, their acts ruffianly; and scattering, while
society averts her eyes, the retributive seeds of increase for
crime, turbulence, and pauperism."
On first reading such a passage as this, one is tempted to
cry out indignantly, " Of course this only requires to be
known to be set right. Of course the authorities on the
subject will at once take up the matter in earnest."
But then it is, when we find that at last hearts are stirred
to feel for the frightful magnitude of the evil, that its in
veterate character comes to light. The task of providing
a remedy is really gigantic. Grave questions of policy
are introduced. Who are the owners of these miserable
.dwellings? Is it just, is it politic, to compel them to
destroy or to improve them ? Then again, what kind of
dwelling would you substitute ? Can you hope to construct
dwellings good enough to offer the minimum amount of
decent accommodation, and at the same time yielding such a
return to the builder as to make it worth his while to construct
them ? And if they will not yield such a return, are you
not in fact simply multiplying almshouses, and is this likely
to raise the character of your people ? Or, once more, have
not the poor themselves" lost the power of appreciating the
cleanliness and order to which you attach such importance?
Will they enter the houses you build ? If they do, will
they not, in order to eke out a livelihood, admit fresh

HOUSES OF THE POOR.

lodgers into the rooms which you designed for themselves
exclusively, and so will not the old evils of overcrowding
be repeated ?
These may serve as samples of the difficulties which are
practically found to envelope the solution of this colossal
difficulty. God forbid that I should represent them as
insurmountable ! It seems to be reserved for our generation
to show, by patient experiment, by the concurrence of many
labourers, in many different fields, by Christian love en-
flaming at once and yet submitting to be controlled by
worldly wisdom, that they can be at last surmounted. God
grant that many of you may take a foremost part in the
work !
Much has already been done, not indeed to extinguish
the evil, but to indicate the directions in which its extinc
tion is, and is not, to be hoped for.
First of all, thanks to the exertions of some eminent, and
many humbler writers — thanks, let me also say, to that
awful scourge of God, the cholera, coming thrice with/fright
ful devastation in the course of less than thirty years, and
compelling the most worldly to be at least curious as to its
origin — the evil may now be said to be fairly admitted. A
man would be thought foolish now, as well as unfeeling,
who should have the effrontery to disparage the social im
portance of such a state of things as I have indicated. The
evil is fairly acknowledged, and many of the wisest heads
and noblest hearts in our country are endeavouring to
organize practical schemes for its removal.
But further than this, experiments on a considerable scale
have been made.
About eighteen years ago, when few of you were yet
born, two societies were established, based indeed on a
somewhat different principle, but having substantially the
same object in view.
One took the form of a commercial company.1 It was
hoped that the buildings which it proposed to erect for- ths

i The Metropolitan Association.

HOUSES OF. THE POOR.

poor would be so far remunerative as to induce builders and
other private persons to embark largely in similar schemes.
It was felt that by far the best practical security for the
erection of decent lodgings to the enormous extent required
was to be found in the demonstration once for all, that,
simply as a pecuniary investment, it was worth men's while
to build them.
This company, which received the support and co-opera
tion of many of the most distinguished men of our day*
has erected many large buildings in London, which any of
you would be able to see. Its rooms are generally filled,
but at present the rate of remuneration has not been such
as to make it probable that its main hope will be fulfilled.
It has, however, done much by serving as an experiment on
a sufficiently large scale to attract the notice of persons best
qualified to note its defects.
The second society to which I have alluded as having
been established at the same time, is that for which I am
asking your aid this evening, the "Society for Improving
the Condition of the Labouring Classes." The President
was that good and enlightened Prince whpse loss all England
mourns in proportion to its appreciation of his thoroughly
sterling character. Its Chairman was, and still continues to
be — I take a pride in recording it here — that distinguished
Harrow man1 who, ever since the opening years of his man
hood, has devoted himself, with rare courage and constancy,
to the redress of the sufferings of the poor, and who gives
not his name only, but his unwearied personal efforts, to
almost every great scheme of thoughtful Christian philan
thropy. The object of this society was to build dwellings for the
poor, to serve as models. Moderate rents were to be re
quired ; the profits were to be devoted to the extension of
the work of the society — that is, to fresh buildings and fresh
improvements. The funds were to be supplied in the main
by voluntary subscriptions on the part of persons who felt

The Earl of Shaftesbury.

HOUSES OF THE POOR.

that an experiment of this kind was needed, and that it
could not otherwise be made. At the same time it was
never anticipated that the permanent arrangement for meet
ing the gigantic want was to be of a charitable kind. It
was only felt that before any adequate scheme could be
organized, voluntary effort on the part of a few must pioneer
and make experiments.
The result of seventeen years seems to be that, while many
houses have been either built or improved in the metropolis;
while many corresponding associations have been formed in
the country, where the conditions of success are more hope
ful, because it is so much easier to obtain sites for building ;
while, lastly, the labouring classes have shown their appre
ciation of the increased comfort offered by filling these
houses as fast as they are built, yet the pecuniary returns
are analogous to those given in the former case. The profits
are fair, but not so considerable as to warrant the hope that
they can be made the basis of building operations on an
extensive scale.
And in this state, so far as I am aware, the question lies
at the present moment, demanding all the resources of per
sonal sagacity, and of legislative foresight. I do not doubt
that the next ten years will see this subject becoming more
and more one of common interest. There are many reasons
pointing to this conclusion.
In the first place, it is in the nature of good thoughts to
propagate themselves. What has already been thought and
done has sunk into many fruitful hearts, and the fruit must
come in its season. Secondly, it is observable that very
many of the plans now abroad for the improvement of the
poor find themselves, sooner or later, face to face with this
overwhelming evil of house accommodation. For instance,
those who have most closely observed the temptations of the
lowest of the poor to drunkenness find one great cause to
exist in the fact that decent homes are so rare. Then, again,
those who would carry education to the lowest of the poor
find that they must make the homes decent before the schools
can hope to operate for good, The same truth is evident

HOUSES OF THE POOR.

to the parochial minister. He feels that " that i9 not first
which is spiritual, but that which is natural ; and afterward
that which is spiritual." Before the Spirit of God can work
His miracles on the soul, some provision must be made for
the life of the body.
Thus, as I said, we find the most active workers in the ¦
cause of philanthropy converging towards this black spot on
which our eye' has been resting. And lastly, as a third
reason for anticipating that this widely-spread conviction is
destined to occupy more and more space in the eyes of our
generation, is that most significant fact of which, but a few
days back, all England heard with admiration. That a
foreigner,1 who. had grown wealthy in the English capital*
should have given a sum amounting to a large fortune for
the purpose of building homes for its neglected poor, is an
act, we may well believe, that will exercise no transitory
influence. The least good that will spring from that noble
act will be the relief which itself provides for destitution.
Its true value will be found in this, that it will stir up thou^
sands of hearts to think seriously about this matter, and to
remember, with a far deeper sense of their meaning, the
words of the Lord Jesus, how He said, " It is more blessed
to give than to receive."
This privilege of giving, my brethren, is all that most of
us can at present enjoy ; but I would indeed urge you not
to let all interest in this momentous matter — so pregnant
with blessings for our countrymen — pass away with this
evening. Try at least to remember, when you feel most happy in
the .enjoyment of every physical comfort, that there are
thousands of fellow-English boys, and those whom Christ
designed to be fellow-Christian boys^ exposed, by no fault
of their own, to almost necessary pollution and degradation
of soul and mind and body ; and pray that God may count
you worthy, and many of those who shall, in future times,
inherit the ennobling traditions of this school, to be fore*
] It is scarcely necessary to name Mr. Peabody. Since this sermon
was preached, his original gift of 150,000/. has been raised to 350,000/.

HOUSES OF THE POOR.

most in the truly holy and heroic work of bringing purity to
the homes of the labouring classes, and so hastening the
coming of that day when the longing of our common Lord
shall be accomplished ; when those also who are in the less-
favoured fold are brought into His all-embracing arms ; when
there shall indeed be "one flock," saved by the love of the
" One " divine " Shepherd."
1 /iia Troifivi] ("flock"), not auA?J ("fold").
April 6th, 1862.

SERMON II.
JACOB AND ESAU.
Mal. i. 2, 3.
" / loved Jacob, and I haled Esau. "
We have heard again this morning the familiar story of the
sons of Isaac ; how the younger brother supplanted the
elder, and obtained the blessing which had been intended
for him.
It is a story which can never be heard without interest.
Probably, too, it leaves on the minds of most of us a feeling
of some surprise and some perplexity. We .cannot under
stand why a mean act should have been rewarded. There
is something startling to our sense of justice in seeing the
falsehood of a partial mother, and the ungenerous acqui-
. escence of a favourite son, gain a victory over the intentions
of a blind and failing father, and the manly straightforward
ness of an elder brother. Our sympathies are against the
successful plotter, and on the side of him who was over
reached. We despise Jacob, and we pity Esau.
And yet we are met by the fact that Esau was rejected .
as the receiver of God's choicest blessings, and Jacob was
accepted. There was something in Jacob which there was
not in Esau ; something which fitted him to be the head of
a family which should keep alive the true worship of God
in an age of heathenism ; something which could justify the
Prophet in declaring, in the name of God, " I loved Jacob,
and I hated Esau."

JACOB AND ESAU.

Let us endeavour this evening to gain some insight into
the characters of these two brothers. Let us try to see
what was the essential, the fundamental difference between
them ; what that thing was which Jacob had, and Esau
lacked. We shall find, I think, that in studying them we
are learning to know more of ourselves and our brethren.
But let us first do full justice to those instinctive feelings
which, as I have said, the first reading of the story is cer
tainly calculated to awaken in us. We need have no mis
givings that they are ill-founded. God, my brethren, hates
all trickery and all ungenerous rising on another's fall far
more than we can do. We cannot doubt that He was
displeased when the younger brother availed himself of
the elder's hunger and faintness to wring from him the
privileges of his birthright. It was a mean, selfish act, and
God hates all meanness and selfishness.
Again, we cannot doubt that He was displeased when the
second act of over-reaching was committed ; when the
crafty, self-seeking son utters no misgiving as to the cha
racter of the act, but only as to the chances of his being
detected ; when, in answer to the trembling questions of his
blind and feeble father, " Who art thou, my son ? How is
it that thou hast found it so quickly, my son? Art thou my
very son Esau?" he had the effrontery to reply, "I am
Esau thy firstborn:" "because the Lord thy God brought
it to me :" " I am." These falsehoods admit of no possible
excuse ; and if our consciences revolt at their baseness,
we may be very sure that they were infinitely more heinous
in the eyes of Him who "requireth truth in the inward
parts." The character of Jacob is not represented to us as a
noble, still less as a perfect character. It is represented as
a character which, in spite of many stains and apparently
habitual weakness, God in His wisdom saw fit to bless an4
to adapt for His own purposes.
The faults of Esau are, at least in the judgment of the
young, much less glaring than those of his brother. I
question whether any boy ever felt anything like aversion

H JA COB AND ESA U.

for Esau. ' A strong proof this, my brethren, of the extreme
incompleteness of the judgments of boys. Your judgments
of character are precipitate, sweeping, indiscfiminating.
You see something in a companion that you dislike or
despise. You at once set him down as mean and con-
. temptible. You see something in another that seems
generous of brilliant. You yield him at once an unmixed
admiration. You are sure that he has much good in him.
You will not believe that there may be most serious flaws
in his character. You know, for example, that he is truthful
and generous. You are surprised if it is ever hinted that
he ought to be considerate, that he ought to be scrupulously
obedient, that he ought to be pure, that he ought to be
diligent, that he ought to love God. You are satisfied with
a half goodness. You do not think of the rigorous exaction
of the most merciful of all judges : " Be perfect, as your
Father which is in heaven is perfect."
And so with our judgment of Esau. What clues do we
gain to his character? We should gather, I think, from
what we read of him, that he was an irreligious man rather
than a wicked man. He was not cruel, or dishonest, or
grossly profligate. He was probably a wild rough chieftain
among his followers, brave, impulsive, generous in his im
pulses, capable of affection, and even of forgiveness ; but,
on the other hand, reckless, revengeful, violent, totally care
less of duty, wholly unspiritual, wholly neglectful of the
thought of God. How constantly we see such characters
in common life. How constantly you see them here :
men and boys who seem made for this world, and for no
other ; of the earth, earthy ; with many of the graces, and
much of the happiness of earth ; but incapable apparently
of attaching any meaning at all to words like these :
" Set your affection on things above :" "Except a man be
born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." They
live an animal life. We dare not speak of their virtues ;
but we speak of their " good points," their good nature,
their fearlessness, their warm affections — must we not add,
their hearty animosities. Their tastes are all centred in

JACOB AND ESAU. 15

the body ; not necessarily corrupt or enervating, but utterly
bounded by the senses, having no relish of heaven. You
will see, I think, the kind of character that I wish to sketch.
It is surely, if we can trust appearances, if we can judge
from looks, from manner, from occupation, from conver
sation, by no means a rare one.
Now we need not consider the final lot of persons such
as these. We have no right to assume that Esau was re
jected in the sense of being eternally cast out from God's
presence. The rejection of which the Scripture speaks was
a rejection from being the head of the family which was
to be a witness for the true God till Christ should come. It
was not to be through a man like Esau that all the families
of the earth should be blessed.
Esau had no mind, no taste, for spiritual things. For a
morsel of meat he sold his birthright. He showed that he
had no appreciation, no reverence, for what he ought to
have held sacred. Doubtless he would have pleaded that
he did not know what he was doing, that he did not know
the mysterious worth of what, in a moment of languor, he
was throwing away. But he ought to have known it. This
very ignorance, this insensibility to holy things, proved him
to be unfit for being God's witness.
So, again, in choosing his wives from the surrounding
heathen tribes he showed that he had no sense of the divine
calling of his father Isaac and his grandfather Abraham.
So, once more, in his resolution to kill his brother so
soon as his father should be dead, he showed not only
a revengeful spirit — for which perhaps, considering the
provocation, we could find much excuse — but he showed
also a radical disbelief in the value of his father's blessing.
He knew that Jacob was to be blessed, and yet he fancied
that he could prevent this by violence of his own. He
had, in short, no faith in God's will. It is another proof
that his nature was wholly1 unspiritual.
What then was the difference between him and his
brother ? It amounts in substance to this : Jacob, with all
his faults, was a religious man. He did believe in God:

1 6 JACOB AND ESA U.
He did believe that his life was to be a life of obedience
to God. He did believe that the God of his fathers had
called him, even him, to be His servant and His witness.
He did trust in God. Even his ungenerous and dishonest
efforts to obtain the birthright and the blessing prove that
he at least attached a meaning and a value to these
privileges. He believed in something and some Person
beyond and above himself. He believed that an invisible
God could bless those whom He would. And so, when he
was first left to himself— when he was far away from his
earthly father's house, and thrown, as we should say, on his
own resources — he determined from the first that these
resources by which his after-life was to be supported should
be not human but divine, not his but God's. He awoke
from the vision in which God appeared to him — a vision:
such as never would have been granted to Esau, and such
as Esau would not have cared to receive — and he said
with the awe of one who had been trained to believe in the
presence of God, " How dreadful is this place ! This is
none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of
heaven : 'n and then, having devoutly builded an altar at this
hallowed Bethel, he vowed a vow— not the vow of a wild,
impetuous hunter, but the vow of one who knew what it
was to put entire trust in a divine Father — " If God will be
with me, and will keep me in this way that I go, and will
give me bread to eat, and raiment to put on, so that I come
again to my father's house in peace; then shall the Lord
be my God."
And the vow of that morning was kept. Through all
the vicissitudes of his after-life we never find that Jacob
swerved from this firm faith in the God of his fathers : and
when the time drew near that he should die, and the two
sons of his best-beloved Joseph were brought near to his
bed to receive a blessing which they had used no unworthy
means to obtain, he said to their father, returning in spirit
to his earliest vision and his earliest vow, " God Almighty
1 Gen. rxviii, 17, 20, 21.

J A COB A ND ESA U. 1 7
appeared unto me at Luz " — that is, Bethel — " in the land
of Canaan, and blessed me. . . . God, before whom my
fathers Abraham and Isaac did walk, the God which fed
me all my life long unto this day, the Angel which redeemed
me from all evil, bless the lads ; and let my name be named
on them, and the name of my fathers Abraham and Isaac." '
This is a blessing, my brethren, that could never have
issued from the lips of Esau. The words would have had
no meaning to his earth-bound animal nature. From con
sidering the impossibility of his ever having used them, you
will best discern the fundamental difference between the
two brothers.
Thus, then, we have two men brought before us for our
instruction. The one has much that is attractive, much
that commands our sympathies, if not our respect ; and
yet he has nothing in him on which the Spirit of God can
fasten so as to make him a blessing to the world. On the
other hand, we have a man subtle and self-seeking, capable
of offences which seem most removed from the noble
character ; and yet he communes with God. He rests
upon God- He asks God's guidance. He believes in
God's calling and God's promises ; probably he confesses to
God with shame and sorrow the sins by which he seems to
the outward eye to have thriven.
Both of these, most imperfect characters — not wholly
good, not wholly bad — illustrative therefore of the strangely
inconsistent, we had almost said, incongruous characters.,
that year by year, in proportion to our thoughtfulness, force
themselves upon our wonder ; illustrative, let me also add,
of our own startling and almost incredible inconsistencies,
which allow us to be capable of so much mingled good and
evil; allow our tempers to be chivalrous and humane, yet
crossed by sullen' tempers and irritated into revengeful
animosity ; allow our feelings to be devout and reverent,
yet spoiled by cowardly insincerity and polluted by impure
imaginations; allow our most cherished aims to be lofty,
our secret resolutions to be heroic, our thirst for response
¦ 1 Gen. xlviii. 3, 15, 16.
C

18 JACOB AND ESAU,
bility, for trial, for danger, for enterprise, for doing God
service, to be ardent and seemingly unquenchable, while
every day shows that it has most deplorably been quenched
by the seductive draughts of indolence and vanity, or for
gotten amid the ignoble solicitations of doubt, of ridicule,
or of fear.
And yet, my brethren, surely we do not deliberately doubt
as to which of these brothers was in the main right, and
which was in the main wrong. We could not bear the
thought of passing through life with no aspirations heaven
ward, with no sense of duty, no listening to conscience,
no desire to be God's servants, no response to Christ's
marvellous love. We can honour the generous impulse, the
quick but placable temper, the vigorous bodies, the mental
constitution from which fear and deception seem by the
very nature of things to be utterly alien. But yet we — we
who have heard Christ's message ; we who have known and
are prepared to ratify our baptismal Vow ; we who profess
ourselves ready and bound to renounce the world, the flesh,
and the devil, to believe the truths which patriarchs fore
shadowed and which Christ revealed, and to keep unswerv
ingly to our life's end God's holy will and commandments ;
we who pray daily to Our Father, which is in heaven, and
aspire to be brought yet closer to Him by that holy rite
which His Son instituted on the eve of His agony for
us — we surely could not bear that this only should be said
of us when our night cometh, " He who knew all this had
generous impulses. This pledged soldier of Christ had a
placable, though a hasty temper. This child of God, and
heir of eternity, for whose soul parents had wept and prayed*
had a vigorous and healthy body. This immortal soul,
for which Christ died, and which His Spirit strove daily
to renew and to purify, was so happily constituted by
nature, that it cost it nothing not to lie, and not to bfc
cowardly." O my brethren, be not deceived ! That character of
which Esau is the type is not one with which even a Chris
tian boy can be satisfied. The virtues of the wild, half-

JACOB AND ESAU. 19
savage nature, are "lower" than the foibles of the "Christian
child." If there be any of you — and surely there must be many
— who feel that there is much in yourselves which seems to
be represented rather by Esau than by Jacob, do not be
satisfied with this. Admit that you need a renewed nature.
Admit, so far as you can understand the mysterious admis
sion, that you must be born again. Admit, that is, that
a radical change must come over you, of which God's
Spirit is the author, prompting you to confess faults to be
sins, prompting you to new thoughts, furnishing you with
new motives, supplying you with new strength. Never be
content till you can call upon God as your Father, and can
feel that He is daily calling you to do a work for Him.
And if there be others, again, who feel that their natural
temperament is rather the temperament of Jacob than of
Esau — if they feel that their temptation is not so much to
forget God altogether, as to dishonour Him by their weak
nesses and inconsistencies — let them earnestly pray that this
root of bitterness may be eradicated from their souls ; that
they may become bold, and manly, and straightforward, as
well as reverent, and that no insincerity or littleness on
their part may cause their good to be evil spoken of. It is
a sad disaster when worldly men and irreligious boys come
>to associate religious profession with meannesses such as
they themselves despise.
, Lastly, I would say to you all, and especially1 to those of
you on whom, when I speak of resolution, devotion, incon
sistency, weakness, my thoughts must necessarily in particular
dwell, take from the characters of these two sons of Isaac the
lesson which you most need. Learn from it that you must
come to fear and think of God. You cannot, you dare
not, live a life of mere animal enjoyment, however innocent
it may seem to you to be. You dare not subject yourself
to that solemn sentence, " 1 hated Esau ; I could not make
of him a chosen vessel for speeding the coming of My
kingdom." 1 A Confirmation was about to be held in the School Chapel.
C 2

JACOB AND ESAU.

And, once more, mere devoutness and reverence will not
save you from disgraceful sins. You may be honestly
desiring to come to' God, and yet may be harbouring within
your hearts some accursed thing which God hates, and
even man despises.
O my brethren, examine yourselves strictly. Ask what
it is which makes you thus double-minded. Pray to Him
who is " the Truth," to keep you true to your better selves,
and to Him. Pray that no stain may ever dim the shield
with which, I verily believe, you are now sincerely anxious
to fight His battles.

March l6th, 1862.

SERMON III.
"VERILY, VERILY, I SAY UNTO YOU."
St. John vi. 53.
" Verily, verily, I say unto you."
We are told that when our Lord brought to a close on the
Mount of Galilee the plainest and most elementary precepts
of His teaching, "the people were astonished at His doctrine :
for He taught them as one having authority, and not as the
scribes,"1 The words which I have chosen for the text seem
to gather up in a form not the less impressive because it is
so familiar, the authoritative character of Christ's teaching.
" I tell thee," " I say unto you," " Of a truth I say unto
you," "Verily, I say unto you;" or, as St. John loves to
record the emphatic declarations of his Master, " Verily,
verily, I say unto you," — these, as we know, are the per
petually recurring prefaces to the deepest utterances of Him
whose name we bear. Nay, so habitually are they used
that we come to regard them as virtually present even when ,
they are absent. In spirit, if not in the letter, they stand
at the head of all those mighty sayings to which we in
stinctively turn for warning, for enlightenment, or for
comfort. About all these there is a positiveness, a sejf-
asserting confidence ; yes, and if we may claim for the word
a reverent meaning, a solemn egotism which we find in no
other teaching that we reverence. "Verily, I say unto
you;" the very stamp of personal authority seems im-
1 Matt. vii. 28, 29.

22 "VERILY, VERILY, I SAY UNTO YOU."
pressed upon all. " He that loveth son or daughter more
than Me is not worthy of Me."1 "I am the Way, the
Truth, and the Life."3 " Come unto Me, all ye that labour
and, are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."3
Let this, my brethren, be the subject for our thoughts
this evening. I would fain say something which may here
after be of service to some one of those whose school-life
is so nearly a thing of the past. You are going from us
now, and all the happiness and all the efforts of the last
four or five years are just so far valuable as they have
prepared you to be Christian men in the years that are
to come.
It is not an easy thing to be a Christian. Our Lord
Himself says, " Blessed is he, whosoever shall not be
offended in Me."4 There are many offences over which
men are tempted to stumble before they come straight up
to the presence of Christ. If they are not more dangerous
in the case of the young than of others, they are certainly
more prominent.
I will take two examples, but they are not chosen at
random. One is frivolity. Most of you, my brethren, are
so circumstanced, that if you choose to assume that amuse
ment and the pleasures of society are the only things worth
living for, years may pass, and no very crushing calamity
may come to remind you of the utter falseness of such a
delusion. With a poor man you know it would be other
wise. If a poor man were to refuse to work, and became
an idler ,and a lounger, the pressure of want would soon
remind him that he was hopelessly flying in the face of the
laws of God's providence. No one has any respect for a
poor idle man. But from the rich, those from whom God
expects most, man expects least. In youth, idleness and
pleasure-seeking, though they ensure the degradation of the
soul, bring very little worldly discredit. And therefore I
remind you that if you are looking forward to life at College
or elsewhere as simply a wider field for self-indulgence, it
is probably in your power to make this future your own.
1 Matt. x. 37. 2 John xiv. 6. s Matt. xi. 28. * Matt. xi. 6.

"VERILY, VERILY, I SAY UNTO YOU."' 23
And to remember the service of Christ in the midst of
self-indulgence is a hard matter ; so hard, that it is impos
sible for those who care for your souls not to feel that the
very outward blessings with which God has surrounded you,
and which enable you to take life so easily, are among the
most serious obstacles with which you have to contend in
your path towards Christ.
The other " offence " or danger to which I alluded is of
a more subtle kind, and is felt chiefly by the higher natures.
.1 mean restlessness of religious inquiry, so that it is hard for
a man in our days, and most of all for a young man, to feel
sure of his standing ; to be satisfied that his faith is based
on fact, and that consequently the service which he has been
taught to render to his Saviour is a "reasonable service,"
and not a superstition. It is difficult on this great subject
to speak words at once of truth and of soberness ; impos
sible, as I believe, to offer counsel which may not be per-
, verted to very different conclusions from those which were
intended by the giver. But I had rather, my brethren, be
chargeable with the offence of disquieting a conscience by
an ill-timed and unnecessary apology, than with indifference
to those heart-searching questions which to some of you
will, in a few months, seem all in all.
It is often assumed, if not actually asserted, that an
inquiry into the ground of our faith is a thing to be depre
cated rather than desired ; a thing to be approached with
reluctance and with bated breath; a thing to be met no
doubt with fairness and with boldness when it comes, but
by no means to . be welcomed, still less to be invited and
encouraged. It is represented as at the best a dangerous
intruder, with whom any terms are to be made consistent;
with safety and with honour.
By persons who hold this language it would be regarded
as a misfortune that the spirit of religious inquiry should be
abroad in the world. They would prefer that it were
otherwise. They would urge that a calm and reverent faith.
was a safer as well as a nobler thing than the uncertainties.
and inconsistencies of a restless speculation.

24 "VERILY, VERILY, I SAY UNTO YOU."
Others would look at the matter from a different and'a
more hopeful point of view. Strong in the conviction that
God requires from every one of His children a living
personal faith, and not simply an acceptance of the creed
of others, and that of all the dangers which threaten to
make shipwreck of our spiritual life the dead calm of stag-;
nation is the most fatal, they would look with thankfulness
rather than forebodings on the fact that the minds of men
in this country, and especially of the young, are more dis
posed than they once were to question the truth of what
they are taught. They would speak and think and write of
inquiry with sympathy rather than with suspicion. They
would claim it as a true ally of Christ's cause. They would
protest against its being identified with- the spirit of infi
delity. They would make allowance even for its errors'.
They would make up their minds that in this world of
imperfections we must be content with a balance of advan
tages, and that to expect freedom without extravagancies is
to expect an ocean without billows, or a conquest without a
wound. But they whose conscience leads them to welcome rather
than to shrink from the spirit of religious inquiry, by which
our times are so powerfully influenced, are bound to take
heed that they have a centre for their faith — something to
which they can cling in all difficulties — something which
they have themselves tested, and which^they know to be
not the wavering opinion of man, but the solid rock of the
truth of God.
The true question for a Christian — one which will always
be the same, whatever the theological controversy which for
the time may be predominant — is the simple but most
searching question, which the heat of controversies often
tends to stifle, What is my relation to Christ? What is
He to me? What am I to Him? Is He only a holy man,
whose example, even if I wished it, I could never hope to
emulate? Or is He what He was to Thomas, " My Lord,
and my God ;" capable now of moulding my life, and trans
forming and renewing the life of the world; capable of

"VERILY, VERILY, I SAY UNTO YOU." 25
hearing my prayers, of extirpating my sins, of enlightening
my darkness, of chaining my impure and unruly passions,
of bringing all my impulses and most secret desires into
captivity to His own most holy will ?
In -answering this great question of life, some of us may
be assisted, either now or hereafter, by the words of the
text, "Verily, verily, I say unto you." It was for this pur
pose, in this hope, that I selected them for our thoughts
to-day ; a day when we would all willingly have " ears to
hear ;" a day when we would fain gather some ray of light,
and some resolution for good, to be our stay when we are
here no longer.
Think then of this authoritative tone in which the Lord
Jesus habitually speaks, and remember the subject-matter of
which He speaks. Ask yourselves whether any one who was
man only could use such language on such subjects without
blasphemy. Did any one but He ever live who could have
used similar language ? Is it conceivable that any one should
ever live again on this earth who could use similar language?
To quote examples is to quote the Gospels. Listen to but
a very few ; listen with a desire, with an inward prayer, to
catch their meaning. " Verily, verily, T say unto you,
Before Abraham was, I am."1 "I say unto you, All manner
of sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men : but the
blasphemy against the Holy Ghost shall not be forgiven
unto men."2 " Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man
be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the
kingdom of God."3 " Verily, verily, / say unto yoti," — what
an assurance to us this Sunday — " Except ye eat the flesh of
the Son of Man arid drink His blood, ye have no life in
you."4 " Verily, verily, I say unto thee, We speak that we do
know, and testify that we have seen."5
Put passages like these together — and you know how
they might be multiplied — meditate upon them, meditate
upon them above all in times of trouble and despondency, .
1 John viii. 58. 2 Matt. xii. 31. 3 John iii. 5. ' ¦'
1 John vi. 53. 5 John iii. 11.

26 "VERILY, VERILY, I SAY UNTO YOU."
when you are least content with yourself and most ready to
cry to heaven, " 0 set me up upon a rock that is higher than
I;"1 compare them above all with the character and the life
of Him who uttered them, as the Gospel records portray
Him ; and gradually, under God's blessing, there must arise
from the very foundations of your being an indestructible
conviction that He who spoke thus spake not only as never
man spake, but as never man alone could speak; that,
' except on one supposition, His language is inexplicable and
even shocking ; but that, if that supposition be true, you
have found the centre of your creed and of your life.
I said, Compare His words with His life. It is all-
important. We know the painful effect produced when a
man's words stand not in harmony, but in contrast, with his
life. Hardly anything hiakes us more sceptical of goodness.
Above all, if a man use authoritative language which h;
deeds belie, we instinctively shrink from him. His pre
tensions inspire not obedience, but dislike and opposition.
But, on the other hand, we are so made that authoritative
language from one whom we love and reverence predisposes
us to accept it as true.' And how is this condition satisfied
in Christ ! Who does not feel that His life is even more
than His words ; that even the Gospels which His Spirit has
inspired convey to our earthly eyes but a broken image of
what He was and of what He is ?
To read the words of Christ again and again ; to read
them with a prayer that we may enter into their meaning ;
to speak of them with those who best reflect their spirit in
their lives and tempers ; to force ourselves to acquire some
clear conception of the atmosphere in which Christ moved,
the sins which He denounced, the sorrows He assuaged, the
habits which He inculcated and practised ; to do all this
not, as critics, but as humble and sinful Christians, is the
surest anchor by which we can moor the vessel whether of
our belief or of our conduct.
And will you make this anchor your own ? May we hope
that as the press of life thickens, and your principles are
1 Ps. lxi. 2.

"VERILY, VERILY, I SAY UNTO YOU." 27
tested by temptation^ and the voice of early training, with
its warnings and its encouragements, becomes fainter and
fainter in the distance, may we hope that you will stand
unshaken, and hold fast by the Lord Jesus Christ ?
"Lord, and what shall this one do?1 and this one? and
this one?" Such is the language of affectionate curiosity,
which knows something of the perils of the journey, and so
little in each case of the inner equipment by which those
perils will be met.
Will they, in their several professions, be earnest, laborious
men, knowing what they are aiming at, and following that
aim persistently, because it is their calling ? Will they be
men of deep convictions, with courage to act up to them,
and, if necessary, to suffer for them ? Or will they simply
swell the mass of those who flit at random on the surface of
society, re-echoing mechanically the maxims of its , most
worthless members, or ridiculing the convictions of its most
earnest ; or at best — in contempt of the shallowness and
hypocrisy of popular beliefs — "sitting apart, holding no
form of creed, and contemplating all?"
Oh, these are not the stones of which a great church or a
great nation can be built ! The only human thing that is
strong is faith, and that is only strong when it is faith in
God. What we would pray for you is, that you may be
enabled each year to build up, on the foundations of prayer
and holy living, a growing faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.
Make Him the standard of your opinions, knowing that
He is "the Truth." Ask Him to guide you in small as well
as in great things. Whenever we enter on a new mode of
life we have to create for ourselves a number of new habits.
The disposition of our time, the choice of our society, the
nature of our studies, are familiar examples. We have, in
short, to create for our use a fresh routine; and the most
independent character is so much dependent on routine,
that it is of great importance whether it be wisely or hastily
instituted. 1 John xxi. 21. See the beautiful hymn in the " Christian Year" for
the day of St. John the Evangelist

28 - "VERILY, VERILY,.! SAY UNTO YOU."
In forming habits for your new mode of life, whatever
and wherever it may be, keep constantly before you the
thought that you are pledged to be Christ's servant. If you
do this, He will guide you into ways favourable for the
growth of your spiritual life. He will teach you by a sure
instinct to avoid perils of the soul.
It is seldom safe, in offering advice to those who have
passed the first stage of childhood or boyhood, to suggest
any one particular habit as of pre-eminent importance. It
is generally safer to strive to inculcate certain fruitful prin
ciples, and leave these to develope by a spontaneous growth.
But how can I this day forbear to urge upon you the
paramount claims of one holy Christian habit — the habit
of attending at Christ's Table ? Do not give this up. Do
not think that its value has ever been exaggerated. Do not
say that other persons whom you respect do not go, and
that you do not wish to be better than they. Rather regard
it as a sure sign that you are falling back, when attendance
at the Lord's Table becomes to you either formidable or
distasteful. Such a shrinking represents not an advance in
enlightenment or in honesty, but a retrogression in zeal
and in love. Remember what the Lord Himself has said,
" Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except ye eat the flesh of
the Son of Man, and drink His blood, ye have no life in
you : " and who that has once been a joyful and reverent
partaker in that holy ordinance shall dare to persuade
himself that he is enjoying the true spiritual meat and
spiritual drink, while he persistently turns away from the
use of the symbols which Christ has solemnly consecrated ?
Never does the Christian adviser more faithfully echo the
voice of Him who spake with authority, than when, pointing
to the bread and wine, he urges as a lifelong habit, never
to be broken, " Do this in remembrance of Me."
With this thought let us end. Communion with Christ
is the most pressing of duties, the surest of safeguards, the
highest of blessings. It means that we think of Him, that
we love to think of Him, that we feel our dependence upon
Him, that we try to obey Him, and to take His will for our

"VERILY, VERILY, I SAY UNTO YOU." 29
own. May this be our service, not of a day, not of a solemn
Sunday, but of a life. Sometimes we may doubt whether
Communion is a reality, and whether prayer, the bond of
Communion, is not an empty cry to deaf or unheeding ears.
But then, for our comfort, there is wafted to us from the land
of peace the farewell of Him who spake with authority,
and cannot lie, " Verily, verily, I say unto you, Whatsoever
ye shall ask the Father in My name, He will give it you.
Hitherto have ye asked nothing in My name : ask, and ye
shall receive, that your joy may be full."1
1 John xvi. 23, 24.

July 26th, 1863.
Last Sunday of the Summer Quarter.

SERMON IV.
"LAWFUL, BUT NOT EXPEDIENT."
i Cor. vi. 12.
" All things are lawful unto me, but all things are not expedient."
St. Paul was the great champion of what is called Christian
liberty. If we think a moment, we find that there are many
acts and customs in common life which cannot fairly be said
to be right or wrong in themselves. All depends on the
circumstances which attend them. What is right with one
person may be wrong with another ; what is right for the
same person at one time may be wrong at another. The spirit
in which the act is done, not the act itself, determines the
question whether it is right or wrong.
Acts of this kind, indifferent in themselves, but rendered
good or bad according to the circumstances of the doer,
cover, as you will see, a very large space in our common
life. What kinds of amusements are permissible ? How
strictly are holy days to be observed ? What kind of books
is it right to read ? What are the proper limits of indul
gence in eating or drinking ? Here are a few simple ques
tions which, as you know, are again and again recurring, and
to which, in some way or other, our conscience has to find
an answer.
Now, my brethren, what we profess is, that we can do all
such things as these, no less than what are confessedly the
graver duties of life, in the name of the Lord Jesus. We

'"LAWFUL, BUT NOT EXPEDIENT." 31
can make them parts of our life-long service to Him. We
can rescue them from being merely common and indifferent
matters, and offer them as a humble but yet an acceptable
sacrifice on the altar of a thoughtful obedience. But to
offer this sacrifice wisely as well as devoutly makes a great
demand on our Christian resources. Many good men and
good women think that the safest way of securing this result
is by laying down very strict rules for all the more obvious
nstances of the duty which we are considering. It is better,
they think, to be on the safe side. They do not positively
assert that such and such an amusement, for example, is
wrong ; but they say it is so beset with dangers, it is so
dissociated in practice from all religious thoughts, that it is
far wiser to give it up altogether.
St. Paul, as we see from his Epistles, was often called
upon to deal with questions of this character; and if we give
only a superficial reading to his decisions, we shall perhaps
be struck by an apparent inconsistency. At one time he is
maintaining, in the strongest terms, the right of Christians
to act freely in all matters not absolutely wrong. At another
he is earnestly warning them that it is their duty to waive
this privilege, of liberty out of deference to the feelings and
the consciences of others. And these apparently' con
flicting claims of liberty and self-denial, the right to do and
the duty of leaving undone, are at last expressed and recon
ciled in the memorable words of our text, " All things are
lawful for me, but all things are not expedient."
I have thought, my brethren, that the words might, with
God's blessing upon them, suggest some useful lessons
to help you here in your course of Christian duty, and
perhaps recur to your minds hereafter when the task of
deciding upon rules for yourselves and others has become
a more definite occupation and necessity.
Observe, then, in the first place, and as a caution through
out, that there are some things always right, and some things
always wrong. There must be no mistake on this point.
When St. Paul says, "All things are lawful for me," he does
not of course literally mean that there is nothing which a

32 "LA WFUL, BUT NOT EXPEDIENT."
Christian may not lawfully do. No honest conscience will
ever so pervert his words. No ; there are things which are
everywhere and always right, and others everywhere and
always wrong ; and oh that you would here, in this place of
temptation, where many things are palliated simply by
being misnamed, make up your minds to use plain language
where it is needed, and to cherish plain thoughts. Learn
to call evasion lying. Learn to call unclean language dis
gusting — the more so if it is gracefully implied rather than
broadly expressed. When we want to hate a thing, it is a
vast assistance to have it before us in its true colours ; and
I am sure that at the present day, though it becomes easier
to be respectable and decorous, it becomes more and more
difficult to hate what God hates : more and more difficult to
say, in downright condemnation, this is wrong, this is wicked,
and it shall not be done.
But I must not linger on this preliminary caution, though
it is far indeed from being superfluous. St. Paul's words
manifestly refer only to those' acts which are indifferent.
What, then, is the Christian principle to be applied to these?
" All things are lawful unto me." God has showed me that
the state of the heart is all which He cares for. I may do*
what I like, provided no soul— either my own or that of
another — is injured by what I do. God's requirements of
me are general. The best means of carrying them out He
leaves to my own judgment, enlightened by the experience
and the counsel of others.
He claims my prayers. He does not bind me to pray
at particular times, or in particular places. He claims my
time. It is all to be consecrated to Him, not certain days
only or certain hours. If I attach in my practice a special
sanctity to certain days and certain hours, it is because I
have good reason to believe that by this arrangement I am
helping myself to consecrate all time, all hours. Again, He
claims my heart. I am to care for Him far more than for
anything else. I am to think of Him, to, feel His presence,
to work for Him as in His sight. To this I am positively
bound ; but I am free to choose the best methods of making

" LAWFUL, BUT NOT EXPEDIENT." 33
this service real, constant and effectual. And no person
can make this choice for me. The best methods for him
need not be the best methods for me. He may find it
necessary to abstain from an indulgence in which I feel
myself at liberty to participate. Or, again, he may safely
indulge where I find it necessary to abstain.
So far we have but laid down the first elements of
Christian toleration. We have maintained the binding
power of a Christian principle. We have claimed the right
to judge freely of the methods by which the principle is to
be carried out into act.
But then we have to remember that we are under a re
sponsibility to exercise our free judgment in a manner
agreeable to God's will. The more liberty, the more respon
sibility. He who says boldly as a Christian, " All things are
lawful unto me," is bound to see that the exercise of his right
will do no harm to himself or others ; in other words, that
it is expedient also.
Now, it has not been without reference to a particular
object that I have sought to bring these general considera
tions before your minds this evening. There is one detail
of Christian duty, my brethren, on which I would willingly
offer a word of counsel by way of assisting you, if so it
might be, to live as Christians here.
I speak of the observance of the Sunday. Do you make
enough of this great gift of God ? Do you make any dif
ference between Sunday and other days ? And if you do not,
is it because the other days are already holy and you cannot
raise the Sunday above their level, or is it rather that they
are very worldly, and you cannot bring yourself, even for one
day in seven, to allow God and Christ a lodgment in your
heart ?
I do not propose to enter at length into the difficult
question of the grounds on which the Lord's Day is kept
sacred. The question for most of us is a much simpler one.
"Shall I, or shall I not, serve my Saviour more faithfully,
more easily, and more happily if I force myself to form the
habit of attaching a special sacredness to the Sunday?" I

34 "LAWFUL, BUT NOT EXPEDIENT."-
believe there is but one answer to such a question ; and if
this be so, then it is at once removed from the region of
controversy into the calmer atmosphere of practical helps
to a holy life. Once let us be convinced that by a particular
observance we become more and more like our Saviour
Christ, and it becomes as binding upon us as if it came
armed with all the thunders of Sinai to challenge our fears
and our obedience.
Can we then do anything to make our Sundays more
truly a Lord's day ? There are some, as you are probably
aware, who draw the line very clearly between what may
be done on Sundays and on week-days. Whether this be
the path of true wisdom or not, it can hardly, I think, be
urged that it is that which St. Paul would have chosen. If
we have entered at all into the mind of that great Apostle,
whose miraculous change from fanaticism to Christian love we
hope to commemorate to-morrow, may we not feel sure that
his teaching would have been rather of this kind? Had
the Corinthians included in their list of questions an inquiry
as to the observance of Sunday, he would have begun by
expressing a fear that they were carnal;1 bound down
slavishly by old Jewish ordinances, and slow to rise to the
measure of the stature of the, fulness of Christ. " Know ye
not," he would have continued, "that every day is the Lord's ?
What is right on one day is right on another. What is
wrong on the first day of the week is wrong on the other
six. One man esteemeth this day above the others. An
other esteemeth every day alike. He that regardeth the
day, regardeth it unto the Lord ; and he that regardeth not
the day, to the Lord he doth not regard it. There is a
Christian way of observing, and also a Christian way of not
observing. If you keep the day, you are not therefore a
Christian. If, on principle, you do not keep the day, you
do not therefore cease to be a Christian. Let every man
be fully persuaded in his own mind."
But then, having thus cleared the ground for Christian
1 See I Cor. iii. 3 ; Col. ii. 16, 20, 21 ; Rom. xiv. 5, 6.

" LA WFUL, BUT NOT EXPEDIENT. " 35
liberty, and refused to give place, even for an hour,1 to
those who would apply the letter of the Law of Moses
to put fetters on time which Christ had made free, would
he not at once have proceeded with equal earnestness
to point out what was really at issue — not the keeping
of this or that ordinance, but the safety of souls for whom
Christ died? And, my brethren, could he have known
our life here, with its peculiar customs, its periods of
hard work, its alternations of engrossing amusements, its
many discouragements of earnestness, its many allurements
to frivolity, would he not have taken our temptations into
his large heart and have warned us affectionately, in his
Master's name, that we should thankfully and eagerly
cherish this and every means which custom had given us
for remembering that our home was in heaven? How
careful would he have been, on the one hand, not to cast
a snare upon any conscience, by laying down any formal
rule on the subject which it would not at once accept as
God's. How earnestly, at the same time, would he have
insisted on the importance of "attending on the Lord without
distraction;"2 of being alone with God ; of securing moments
for real privacy, free from the intrusion of careless, much
more of ungodly words; free also from thoughts of selfish
ambition or selfish amusement; free from all which shuts
out tenderness, penitence, aspiration ; free from all which
interposes even a temporary barrier between the endearing
image of even an earthly home.
In his spirit, my brethren, let us try to frame Sunday rules,
not for others, but for ourselves. " All things are lawful unto
us, but all things are not expedient." We dare not single
out any one act as in itself right on a week-day and wrong
on a Sunday. We see the vast danger involved in making a
gulf between what is secular and what is sacred. We believe
that Christ has joined them together, and that it is not
Christian wisdom or Christian piety to put them asunder.
But at the same time we are earnestly convinced of the
1 Gal. ii. 5. 2 I Cor. vii. 35.
D 2

36 " LA WFUL, BUT NOT EXPEDIENT!'
value arid the blessing of special seasons of communioii
with God ; not that other seasons may be free to be without
Him, but for the very purpose of reminding us that He
claims them all. And in order to make these special
seasons really strengthening and refreshing to the soul,
certain abstinences are required by the strongest among us-.
Such abstinences, for example, are the putting by of the
week-day book or the week-day newspaper, because, how
ever innocent — if indeed they are innocent — they direct
the thoughts from that heavenward channel in which alone
we wish them now to flow. Such, again, are the avoidance
of the noisy group of talkers, whether in the house or out
of if, because for our special purpose privacy, or at least
the quiet interchange of deeper thoughts, is absolutely ne-'
cessary. Without such opportunities of self-communing the
deepest nature becomes shallow, the most earnest becomes
frivolous. And therefore, though we would not venture to
say that mixture with the busy throng of talkers or sight-seers
on a Sunday was unlawful, we would certainly maintain
that it was most inexpedient ; and we would warn all who
value their souls' health to look forward to Sunday quiet as
one of their week's best privileges.
And in general, my brethren, I would say on this head
of Sunday abstinences, abstain from any occupation on the
Sunday with which you find it difficult to connect holy
thoughts. Abstain for your own sake, and for the sake of
others. Do what you can, each in his house, each among
his own circle of friends, to make it easy and natural for
others to pass a quiet and thoughtful Christian Sunday, free
from noise, free from interruption, free, above all, from those
petty personal annoyances which are always unkind and
unmanly, but are peculiarly painful to think of in connexion
with the Lord's day.
And let all such acts of abstinence spring from no petty,
carping, Pharisaical spirit, as if our merciful Saviour grudged
us light-hearted amusement, and was on the watch to catch
us tripping ; but simply because you wish to draw closer and
closer to Him, and believe that such .periodical exclusion

"LAWFUL, BUT NOT EXPEDIENTS 37
of smaller things makes His presence more easy to enjoy
and to realize.
And then, of course, if we would make the most of our
Sunday, we must go further. We must sanctify it not only
by habits of abstaining from what would distract, but still
more by habits of active piety. When can we find a
happier and a more appropriate opportunity for the dutiful
letter home, for special prayer for others, for the careful
reading of some definite part of the Scripture which we
are determined to understand, or, again, for acquainting
ourselves with the lives and thoughts of some of Christ's
most eminent servants ?
The biography of a really devout Christian, whether his
intellectual gifts were great or small, has a wonderful effect
in quickening our spiritual life. As we read, a feeling of
shame comes over us. What energy ! what skill in devising
opportunities ! What an habitual superiority to petty, en
feebling cares ! What a singleness of aim ! What a
grandeur and majesty there is in the life of a man who is
the fellow-worker and the friend of God ! And then, again,
what a reality is added to our notions of religion when we
see it lived out to the end, through failure, through success,
through temptations, through death itself! The Saviour's
death must have been a sacrifice for sin ; for see how this
man lived and died in the faith of it. There must be a
Holy Spirit moulding rebellious wills, and bringing to light
unsuspected sympathies and aspirations; for how else can
you account for this weak man's successes?
Indeed, my brethren, I suggest to you no irksome
duty — nothing dull, nothing cramping, nothing weakly sen
timental — when I propose to you, as a happy way of
spending part of Sunday, the reading some illustrious Chris
tian life.
But I will push the appeal no further. Only let me ask
you all to consider whether Sunday cannot be made a greater
blessing than hitherto, a day of quiet and holy thoughts, a
day of spiritual growth, a day of true happiness. So will
you by degrees be able to enter more into the passionate

38 " LAWFUL, BUT NOT EXPEDIENT."
enthusiasm with which holy men in all generations have
expressed their devout affection for the Lord's day. So will
you come to long for it, to look forward to it, to expect
great things from it, and to see in it at once a symbol
and a foretaste of the "rest" which "remaineth to the
people of God." 1 1 Heb. iv. 9.
January 24, 1864.

SERMON V.
ASCENSION DAY.
St. Luke xxiv. 50, 51.
"And He led them out as far as to Bethany, and He lifted up His
hands, and blessed them. And it came to pass, while He blessed them,
He was parted from them, and carried up into heaven. "
SUCH is the scriptural account of the last earthly act of the
Lord Jesus. His victory over death was accomplished, and
the seal thus placed for ever on His announcement that all
power was given unto Him in heaven and in earth. It was
now necessary that His bodily presence should leave the
world, and that He should return to the Father from whom
He had come forth. It was expedient that He should go
away ; expedient for those very disciples to whom He was
all in all, and to whom was henceforward committed the
work of developing the seed which His words and His acts
had so abundantly sown. Had it so pleased Him, He
might have continued on the earth, and watched from some
earthly city the growth of the Church which He had founded.
He might have been continually present to cheer the first
steps of the witnesses of His resurrection ; and the tears of
earthly sympathy which fell over the grave of Lazarus
might have been shed in the sight of all men at the martyr
doms of Stephen and of James. But such was not the law
of the spiritual kingdom. By human hands, toiling on
through sunshine and through storm, not by the visible

40 ASCENSION DA Y.

energy of an overwhelming Omnipotence, was the trans
formation of the world to be wrought out. Faith in the
unseen — faith in a holy, a loving, and an Almighty God, in
spite of all the pollutions, the bitterness, and the weaknesses
with which He permits the earth to be degraded — such was
the tree of life which Christ had planted ; and now, that it
might grow and flourish, it was essential that the visible
form of the Husbandman should be withdrawn. For faith
in the holiest of men, nay— faith, if it were possible, even in
a present God — would be no substitute for that faith in the
invisible which is the divinely appointed food of all that is
noblest in the human heart.
It was expedient that the Saviour should go away. Till
He was absent, He could not truly be present. Strange,
doubtless, the paradox sounded, yet it was true. Not by an
arbitrary fiat, but by the eternal law which is at the very
foundation of human nature, till the body of Jesus was
removed, the Spirit of Christ could not adequately be
received. " If I go not away, the Comforter will not come
unto you ; but if I depart, I will send Him unto you." 1
Many glorious boons might have been granted by a visible,
ever present Redeemer, but not the one priceless boon,
which makes all others possible and safe, the power of
believing in Him when absent, the power of loving Him
whom we have not seen.
Who can draw for himself an adequate picture of those
mysterious Forty Days which intervened between the Resur
rection and the Ascension, when the appearances of the
Lord were no longer continuous but intermittent; when
plainly some vast change had passed over Him, yet such as
to bring out into even clearer prominence the unchangeable
character of His mind towards men ? He came, and He
vanished. He was seen no more in the temple, or the
synagogue. He appeared not to Pharisees and Sadducees.
He sought not to demonstrate His resurrection to the blunt
consciences of those who loved Him not. The " infallible

1 John xvi. 7.

ASCENSION DA Y. 41
proofs '' which He gave were many, but they were given to
those whom He had predisposed to receive them. He came
to " His own " — a little band of loving and faithful hearts —
and this time it was not true that " His own received Him
not." They received Him, but not hastily. It pleased Him
to convince them even now, even now before He was quite
withdrawn, less by the eye than by the heart. Mary saw
Him and knew Him not, till He called her by name, and
the tone of His voice forced from her the adoring " Rabboni."
He walked with the two who journeyed to Emmaus; "but
their eyes were holden that they should not know Him."
Then He expounded unto them the Scriptures, and made
their hearts burn within them. And by the light which His
words thus kindled, He was, as it were, transfigured before
them, and " was known of them in breaking of bread."
Finally, as we learn from that latest testimony to the Forty
Days, the last and priceless chapter of St. John's Gospel,
when Jesus showed Himself to His disciples at the sea of
Tiberias, He stood on the shore, but they knew not that
it was He. It was after He had spoken to them, and after
a miracle which rerriinded them of former days, that " none
of the disciples durst ask Him, Who art Thou ? knowing
that it was the Lord."
In short, my brethren, the more you examine the appear
ances of our Lord after His resurrection, the more you will
see that they were not only bodily but spiritual appearances.
They were intended to prove to His followers not only
that He was risen; but that, being risen, He was unchanged.
They were exercises in that faith of the heart and the con
science which was to be the stay of all true Christians to
the end of time.
And now the time was come for the last earthly conver
sation. How unlike any other last conversation of which
history bears record ! No looking back on the past ; no
reference to former trials or triumphs ; no reference even
to the open tomb of Lazarus, though " He led them out as
far as to Bethany." It is no death-bed scene that we gaze
on. It is not the founder of a philosophy, gathering his

42 ASCENSION DA Y.

disciples around him, and discoursing with glorious guesses
after an undiscoverable truth on the immortality of the
soul. It is not the lawgiver and the prophet, pointing to
a promised land into which he may not himself enter. It
is, as I said, no death-bed scene. It is " the power of an
endless life." x How calmly He points to the future ! How
majestically He implies, rather than declares, that He
will be with them " alway," even " to the end of the world !"
With what a definite, precise — may we venture to say
" practical " — prescience He prepares them for their destined
work as a thing close at hand ! " Depart not," He said,
from Jerusalem, but " wait for the promise of the Father,
which ye have heard of Me. John truly baptized with
water; but ye shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost
hot many days hence. Ye shall receive power, after that
the Holy Ghost is come upon you : and ye shall be wit
nesses unto Me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judsea, and in
Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth."2
These, so far as we know, were the last words spoken by
the lips of the Son of God on earth, even as the first
recorded are those to which I have before invited your
attention, " Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's
business?"3 What a beginning ! What a close ! His work
still occupying all His thoughts ; His work of loving man ;
His work of saving man, of " bringing many sons unto
glory," * of " restoring " the spiritual " kingdom to " the uni
versal " Israel " of God with a fulness little dreamed of at
the time by those who stood beside Him on the slopes of
Olivet. No more words, so far as we know, were uttered. The
cloud was even now ready to bear Him up into the eternal
silence. But one more act, one more gesture, remained,
with which we would for ever associate the thought, the
picture, of our ascending Lord : " He lifted up His hands,
and blessed them. And it came to pass, while He blessed
them, He was parted from them, and carried up into
heaven."
1 Heb. vii. 16. 2 Acts i. 4, 5, 8, 3 Luke ii. 49. * Heb. ii. 10.

ASCENSION DA Y. 43

He blessed them. He let His peace remain upon them,
upon all their shortcomings, all their past doubtings, all
their imperfect love, all their vague yearnings into thefuture,
all the glorious fears and hopes which crowded upon them
when they thought of the privilege of being witnesses of
such a master, not only in their own Jerusalem and Judaea,
but even in the heretical Samaria, and to the uttermost part
of the earth.
No wonder, my brethren, they felt not as mourners, but
as conquerors. "Nothing" was "here for tears." With the
peace of His blessing still resting upon them, " they wor
shipped Him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy,"
and there in praise and prayer they prepared themselves for
the full reception of the yet greater blessing which He had
promised to them, "Tarry ye in the city of Jerusalem,
until ye be endued with power from on high."
Is this story a story of the past alone ? Since those divine
lips uttered their last message of hope and love, have the
divine oracles been dumb ? Or are they dumb to us now ?
O my brethren, how little have we entered into the meaning
of Ascension Day, if we regard it as the close of a wonder
ful biography, and not rather the first page in a world-wide
history ! From that day our Lord became to all, even to
His apostles, what He is now to us ; what He will be to all
who come after us, till it shall please Him to take His great
power, and put down under His feet all the obstacles which
He now tolerates. Since then no man has seen the earthly
form of Jesus of Nazareth. All on whom His Spirit has
descended have been permitted with the eye of faith to " see
greater things than these." 1
Do we feel that our grasp of Him is sadly feeble, that
we hardly live in His sacred presence at all? Does a
vagueness gather over our conceptions of His being, and
of His mind towards us individually, and towards His
Church at large ? Let the thoughts of this day be blessed
by God to our spiritual quickening. It is, I believe, impos-

1 John i. 50.

44 ASCENSION DA Y.

sible for any one to place before himself the scene on which
we have been dwelling, without being in some degree
softened and raised — raised out of himself into an almost
involuntary adoration of a Saviour, lately "despised and
rejected of men," but now at last triumphant. And then the
nature of this triumph ! No word of the glory which awaits
Him ; of the song of heavenly welcome already sounding
in His ears from the "ten thousand times ten thousand, and
thousands of thousands, saying with a loud voice, Worthy
is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and
wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing." 1
No word even of that transcendent " joy " which had in
deed ever been " set before Him," but now seemed present
and secure — the joy of receiving into God's presence, to
dwell for evermore, all the poor sin-defiled souls which He
had purified by His great sacrifice.
Even these glorious thoughts are not those which Scripture
leads us to associate with the scene which this day com
memorates. Even as before, at the very crisis of His fate,
knowing " that His hour was come, that He should depart out
of this world unto the Father ; " knowing, too, " that the
Father had given all things into His hands, and that He
was come from God, and went to God ; " even as then He
poured water into the bason, and by washing the disciples' feet
taught the lesson of the majesty of humility ; so now, when
even in a fuller sense His hour was come that He should
depart out of this world unto the Father, His thoughts
were still with those whom He was leaving. About all His
farewell words there is a "great calm." Not His own
exaltation, but their approaching enlightenment ; not the
end of His work, .but the beginning of theirs; not the
splendid vision of a heaven peopled with myriads of those
souls who should " believe on " Him " through their word : "
but the sober certainty that within a few days they should
receive a power enabling them to perform a task to which
as yet. they felt themselves unequal — such are the thoughts
which appear to have been uppermost in the mind of the
1 Rev. v. II, 12.

ASCENSION DA Y. 45

Saviour at a moment so awfully grand, that we dare not
attempt even to conceive of its sublimity.
But in the very thought of it there is a spiritual power.
Who does not gratefully accept the interpretation which our
Collect has put upon the Ascension of Christ ? We believe
that He, before the eyes of men, did as on this day ascend
into the heavens. Even so may our hearts and minds
" thither ascend, and with Him continually dwell." Let them
ascend to Him in. order that they may descend again here,
invigorated, sanctified, elevated, humbled for those daily
duties to which He calls them. Oh, how hard is this ascension
of the heart and mind ! How grovelling and pitiful are our
habitual thoughts ! How narrow their range ! How sluggish
their flight ! How little . do we remember that when our
Lord, in the plenitude of His power, "ascended up, He
gave gifts unto men ; " 1 and that to us, no less than to the
apostles, is guaranteed the " power from on high " if we will
indeed seek it with their earnestness and their faith !
But we, we think less of the power from on high, than of
the weakness and the pettiness below. Each accepts his
own temptations as a part of himself, as something in which
he may acquiesce, not as something horribly unnatural
which the power from on high can enable him to overcome.
We surrender ourselves to thoughts of pride, and envy, and
discontent, and cowardice ; thoughts which can never soar
above this earth ; thoughts which have a terrible tendency
to become habitual, and so permanently to enchain and
degrade the soul.
Let to-day, my brethren, set us free from these. Let it
suggest, instead, bright, hopeful, charitable, in a word,
heavenly thoughts. So may we claim a share in that
blessing of peace which was the farewell gift of our ascend
ing Lord. So may we prepare ourselves for all those
common duties which require, equally with apostolic labours,
the sanctification of a power greater than our own.

May 5, 1864. x Eph. iv. 8.

SERMON VI.

COMBINATION.

I St. Pet. iv. 10.
" As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one to
another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God."
This teaching of St. Peter recalls to us the even yet more
emphatic precept of Christ Himself, " Freely ye have re
ceived, freely give." x It is one of the numerous illustrations
of the thoroughly unselfish nature of Christ's religion ; of
the great truth declared by another Apostle, " None of
us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself." 2
If I mistake not, we should all of us be ready to admit
that we are tempted to keep our religion to ourselves. We
wish indeed to have it, but we wish to have it in reserve.
We had rather not be called upon to make any public use
of it. It is a treasure to be kept secret, to be hoarded, to
be added to, but not a treasure to be expended upon others.
To mention this temptation is to admit that it is a
temptation — in other words, that it is an evil, a danger, an
infirmity, above which we would fain be raised. It is one
of the weaknesses, we feel, which would drop from off us
could we habitually " in heart and mind thither ascend "
" whither our Saviour Christ is gone before." But at the same
time let us not be unwilling to recognize the good element
1 Matt. x. 8. 2 Rom. xiv. 7.

COMBINATION. 47

which is mixed up with this acknowledged weakness.
Sweeping condemnations, even of ourselves, are seldom
just. Hopes of improvement are best built upon a sober
and impartial estimate alike of what we have, and of what
we have not.
Religion is in one sense a hidden thing — a "life hid with
Christ in God." x It draws its entire nourishment from an
inward and invisible communion with God ; not from prayer,
but from secret prayer — prayer in the closet when the door
is shut — prayer when the soul is alone with itself, and yet
"not alone, because the Father" which is in secret is
peopling its solitude. Nothing can ever be a substitute for
earnest private prayer. No permanent service to Christ
can ever be rendered without it. I do not deny that there
are other motives which may give rise to occasional out
bursts of energy in Christ's cause. A sense of responsi
bility, a disgust at evil, an instinct of self-preservation may
at times give a man the appearance of a Christian soldier ;
but depend upon it, habitual prayer is the only weapon
which carries upon it Christ's blessing ; it is the only one
which does not weary and in the end paralyse the arm
of him who calls himself Christ's soldier. And prayer, as
we have said, is essentially a secret thing. Further we may
go on to say, that he who prays much will, seldom talk
about his prayers to others. There can be no question but
that the deepest emotions of the heart have a tendency to
evaporate if they are exposed to common view. It is one
of the laws under which we live, that strong feelings lose
their strength by being expressed in language. If we would
feel strongly, we must feel secretly. Acts rather than words
are the invigorating exponents of emotion.
And doubtless it is the consciousness of this law of our
being which in great measure accounts for that delicate
reserve which makes it repugnant to all minds of the finest
temper to speak much of their religious experiences. In
secrecy lies the secret of their strength.

1 I Col. iii. 3.

48 COMBINA TION.

And further, there is another motive, and that too a noble
one, which, makes many Christians, especially among the
young, chary of giving utterance to their religious con
victions. They distrust their genuineness, or at least their
abiding power. They have the misgiving which is beauti
fully expressed in the biography of one of the noblest
judges of whom the English Bench can boast.1 " From
the first time," we are told, " that the impressions of religion
settled deeply in his mind, he used great caution to conceal
it ; not only in obedience to the rule given by our Saviour,
of fasting, praying, and giving alms in secret, but from a
particular distrust he had of himself; for he said he was
afraid he should at some time or other do some enormous
thing, which, if he were looked on as a very religious man,
might cast a reproach on the profession of it, and give
great advantages to impious men to blaspheme the name
of God."
I know not, my brethren, that there is any one of us who
can afford to dispense with the self-distrust which seemed
natural to this admirable Christian man. At all events I
am sure that you recognize its force and its value. To you
it seems much more easy to obey Christ's teaching when
He warns you against ostentatious and therefore hypo
critical devotion, than when He utters the no less needful
exhortation, " Let your light so shine before men, that they
may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is
in heaven." 2
And yet this last exhortation must not be forgotten, or
received with only a lukewarm willingness to obey it. I
would endeavour to bring its spirit before you, through that
counsel of St. Peter which is contained in the text selected
for to-day, " As every man hath received the gift, even so
minister the same one to other as good stewards of the
manifold grace of God."
The text may manifestly be illustrated in many ways; but
i Sir M. Hale. See the "Christian Year," Hymn for Third Sunday
after Epiphany, where the passage is quoted.
a Matt. v. 16.

COMBINA TION. 49

in the first place let us look' at it as furnishing a warning
against what may be called religious selfishness.
" As every man hath received the gift:" What gift ? The
gifts of the Holy Spirit are infinitely various, but the greatest
of all is the gift of Himself, the gift of loving God, of
caring for the things of heaven, of having even a definite
desire to be on the side of Christ, and not on that of His
enemies. Now let no one undervalue this the very first
element of the religious life, or imagine that it is a mere
chance change of mind arising out of altered circumstances.
No, it is indeed a heavenly " gift." It is God the Holy
. Ghost bestowing upon us Himself, working upon our souls
the miracle of making them look upwards from earth to
heaven, from self to God ; winning a victory over their
lower natures, and giving them tastes and longings which
they never felt before. This is indeed a " gift," and, like all
eifts of God, it brings with it a responsibility. It is some
thing which demands not only to be appropriated, but also
to be traded with and devoted to the relief of others.
And thus, you see, we are brought face to face with the
question, How ought one who is really seeking Christ here
to show that he is doing so ? What difference ought to be
made outwardly to correspond to the momentous change
which is passing within ? He dares not make up his mind
to live habitually below his own principles, to seem to be
what he is not, to seem to laugh at evil when he is really
hating it and praying against it, to seem ashamed of good
ness when he is really worshipping it in the depths of his heart.
Such a concealment of his true nature would indeed be
simply cowardice. And yet we all know that concealment
of this kind is precisely one of the forms of evil into which
the more religious among us are most tempted to fall. Let
us then try to look upon our highest principles and our
holiest aspirations as " gifts " bestowed upon us for the very
purpose that others as well as ourselves may be gainers by
them. If any one has through God's grace been brought
to hate sin, and to see its ruinous, soul-destroying character,
let him not shut up this holy conviction in his own heart,
e

5o COMBINATION.

but let him be glad to find opportunities for imparting it to
others. By so doing he will, greatly confirm his own sense
of its importance, and he will have done much to confirm
the faith and the courage of his brethren. For there is no
cordial so cheering to the Christian soldier as the discovery
that he is not alone, but that while he has been striving to
serve his Master in secret, others also unknown to him
have been engaged in the same struggle.
What are the friendships that are most prized by those
who in after years look back on their life at school ? Do
you think that they are those which had never any closer
bond than partnership in frivolity or in vice ? If, for instance,
there be now known to their schoolfellows any knot of
, boys who are universally regarded as a bad set, believed
generally, if not positively known, to be wasting their time
in unlawful practices which will not bear the light, do you
suppose that three or four years hence any one of that set
will be cared for by the others who compose it ; that if he
were in sorrow they would sympathise with him, if he were
to die they would mourn for him? Oh no ! Companionships
in misdoing have no permanence in them. Where there is
no respect, there is no lasting regard.
But let us suppose that some among you, conscious of
having a work to do for Christ here, have united themselves
with others equally earnest, unselfish, and courageous, and
have emboldened one another, through the magic talisman of
sympathy, to do something more practical than merely regret
what they cannot approve ; suppose that they1 have definitely
come to an understanding that they will stand by each other
in giving effect to their convictions, and that evil shall not
be allowed to have it all its own way; these, my brethren,
are the friendships which in later years become so sweet.
This is the holiest of all school bonds — to know that in
conjunction with a high-minded and resolute few, you were
enabled to stand forward on behalf of right ; to serve those
who rejected your service, to warn those who despised your
remonstrances, and thus, through a short-lived ridicule and
misrepresentation, to lay the deep foundation of a moral

COMBINATION. 51

reform. For such reformers there is always an opportunity,
if they have only the faith and the courage to grasp it.
Nothing under God will nerve them more effectually for
their enterprise than the conviction that their own hatred
^of evil is God's own " gift," and that of this great gift He
intends them to be "good stewards," ministering it for the
good of their brethren.
And if once this earnest conviction can be implanted in
our hearts, and our only question is, " Lord, what wilt thou
have me to do ? " x assuredly we shall not long be left
without light on our Christian path.
The gift of the Holy Spirit is one ; it is also, as we said
before, infinitely various. We are called upon to be good
stewards of the manifold grace of God. The grace of God
for us here — the power of giving to others that spiritual help
which is a token to them of God's favour — is so varied that
no one of us can plead his inability to form one of the
channels through which it is to flow. Look at this matter
practically. We are all anxious to impart the grace of God
to one another. The grace of God is the help which comes
from God to make the soul better. It comes through the
holy Sacraments; it comes through intercessory prayer;
it comes through the ordinance of preaching : but, thank
God, it is manifold; it is not confined to such channels as
these; It comes also through the word of timely warning
whispered by a faithful friend. It comes through a tender
sympathy, through meekness under provocation, through
an unmistakable earnestness in seeking others good,
through an indignant word spoken when it is wanted,
through an unstained example amid divers temptations..
It comes whenever any one who has joined others to do evil
frankly avows to them that he has been wrong, and urges
them to join him henceforward in good. It comes^ when
ever any one who has hitherto been thought timid and •
retiring shows that there is something which he cares for
more than his own unmolested comfort, and that he is
1 Acts ix. 6,.
E 2

52 ¦ COMBINA TION.
resolved henceforward to be a witness for the cause of
militant good.
Is there any one here so young, or so weak, that it is impos
sible for him to encourage another in resisting his besetting
temptation ? Can he not, whether gravely or playfully,
encourage him to resist indolence, or bad company, or to
be more on the watch for turning the Sunday to account?
May not all find some gift to consecrate to the service . of
the Giver— either superior ability, or influence, or popularity,
or strength — something which can be made available for the
general improvement of those about them, making it easier
for all to do their duty, and so to have that peaceful
conscience which is the surest index of the presence of
the " grace of God " ?
My brethren, I throw these thoughts before you, trusting
that there may be some at least to take them up, and to
find them practical. What we want is a more definite and
avowed combination for good. The thought on which we
have been dwelling — that of being responsible for an un
selfish use of God's gifts — may help some to realize this
duty. Some will soon be leaving us, and will then be no
longer able to influence our welfare. Will they not be
anxious to make a right use of their influence before the
opportunity has passed away for ever ? Can they bear the
thought that conscience will some day bring home to them,
in letters of fire, that that influence has been all along either
not used at all, or used for evil ?
It is my belief that in this great society of ours lie
dormant undeveloped powers for good which even its most
affectionate admirers little suspect. Of those that hear me
now, the great majority in their secret hearts wish well to the
cause of right. If these secret thoughts could be spoken,
their power would astonish us, and would terrify the few
who are really God's enemies and ours. But they are but
too apt to be silent; to keep their good to themselves,
instead of remembering the inspired exhortation, " As
every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same
one to another."

COMBINA TION. 53

My brethren, as in the natural world, so in the spiritual,
we sometimes see a spring. We go to rest at night, and
the trees are bare, and nothing but experience enables us to
judge of the treasures of beauty that they conceal. But
the rain falls down through the dark night hours, and in
the morning, as we look out on the new-born leaves and
blossoms, it is hardly too much to say that " a new created
world has sprung up at God's command."
There is, I repeat, a spiritual spring. I have endeavoured
to indicate its nature. Let our immense possibilities be
come facts. Let us combine more than we have ever done
before. Let the shower of God's Spirit fall at the same time
on all those hearts which He has prepared, and then let
them give forth freely what each has freely received. Rich
indeed will be the produce when that holy shower falls,
" For as the earth bringeth forth her bud, and as the
garden causeth the things that are sown in it to spring
forth ; so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise
to spring forth before all the nations."1
1 Isa. Ixi. 11.

May 8, 1864.

SERMON VII.

THE THINGS ABOVE.
Col. iii. 2.
" Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth."
Those of us who have had the privilege of joining this
morning in Holy Communion with Christ have joined also
in the response to that high warning of the Church, Lift up
your hearts.
In the same spirit, in one of the most sublime of our
collects, we pray that as our Lord Jesus Christ has ascended
into the heavens, " so we may also in heart and mind thither
ascend." In the same spirit, again, a good and wise man x
who, but a few years ago, was called to his rest from a life
of intense labour, says, that if he had to compress into
brief space the counsel which he considered most appro
priate for young men, he should sum it all up in one word
— Aspire. Now, to what do all these prayers and precepts converge?
They urge us to look upward ; to live a life, not of the earth
but of heaven ; to have heavenly and not earthly thoughts ;
to " look not at the things which are seen, but at the things
which are not seen;"2 because "the things which are seen
are temporal ; but the things which are not seen are eternal."
This, then, will be the subject of our thoughts this
1 Sir James Stephen: see Lecture I. in "Lectures to Young Men,"
1854. a 2 Cor. iv. 18.

THE THINGS ABOVE. 55
evening — the duty of looking upward; the blessing of
disengaging our thoughts from things below, and fixing
them steadily on " things above."
Now, when we speak of " things below," we are not
thinking of things which are in themselves base and pol
luting. As to these, I will only say a very few words in
connexion with our present subject. Vice, remember, is
not only wicked but degrading. It drags down the soul.
It destroys in it the very desire to rise. It gradually indis
poses it to believe that there are any " things above." None
but the " pure in heart " either " see God," or wish to see
Him. The insincere do not wish to see the God of light and
truth. They shrink from the light, because they know that
their deeds are evil.1 The impure, the insincere, may fancy
that they wish to win heaven : but the truth is, that they
wish to escape punishment, and that is a very different thing.
The presence of God the All Holy would bring no happi
ness to them, even if they could reach it. No, the desire
to look upwards is only found in those who are striving to
keep themselves "unspotted from the world." Therefore,
my brethren, if you long to be able to aspire to the high
and holy region where Christ dwells, remember that every
wicked thought, deliberately indulged, and still more every
wicked act, is tending visibly to make that desire impossible.
The soul is .forging for itself a network which will keep it
a close prisoner. It is becoming " tied and bound with the
chain " of those very sins with which it so presumptuously
allows itself to dally.
But, as I said, it is not to grievous vices, whose degrading
power is unquestioned, that I would apply St. Paul's expres
sion, " things on the earth." I would apply it rather to
things innocent in themselves, which nevertheless must be
anxiously watched, lest they succeed in enslaving the soul
which they were designed to serve.
Such a thing is amusement. You well know that you will
never hear from this place language implying that amuser
1 See John iii. 19 — 21,

56 THE THINGS ABOVE.
ment is wrong. God has given us a body as well as a
mind and a soul. The whole of this threefold nature has,
we believe, been redeemed by Christ ; the whole of it, we
believe, is dedicated to His service. To regard the body
as a clog and a snare to the soul, as something in itself
base and debasing, as something which the soul would be
freed from if she could, was indeed a noble dream of those
who lived before the Son of God " was made flesh, and dwelt
among us." But we "have not so learned Christ." Not merely
in deference to the imperious instincts of our nature, still less
as a politic compromise with the world, but because we trust
" we have the mind of Christ," do we strenuously maintain
that the body also is one of those holy things which God
has entrusted to our keeping ; the body' with all its powers
complete, its capacities for enjoyment and for suffering, its
delight in exertion, its want of repose, its need of constant
variety of occupation, because the over-tension of any part
is fatal, so experience proves, to the comfort and efficiency
of the whole. Any mode of life, any system of education
in which the culture of the body was neglected, would be
so far untrue to the laws under which God has been pleased
to create us. It would be a violation of the proportion
which God intended to be maintained between body, mind,
and spirit ; and the result would be, not the ennobling, but
the cramping and enfeebling of those portions of our nature
which are confessedly the loftiest.
But, my brethren, this is not an age, yours is not a time of
life, least of all is this a place, which requires to be warned
against the evils of asceticism. There have been times, and
doubtless there will be times again, when faithful servants
of Christ have had to maintain, in broad, simple language,
that "the earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof,"1,
that there is "nothing unclean of itself," and that that
body, those high spirits, that craving for excitement and
for change, which a gloomy asceticism would denounce and
disparage, are among the things which God hath cleansed
and sanctified. 1 i Cor. x. 26, 28.

THE THINGS ABOVE. 57
But we are not concerned with the dangers of others.
We would fain understand our own, and then quietly,
steadily, and cheerfully meet them with those defences on
which we can best hope for God's blessing.
Which of us, then, can doubt that the danger for us is
that we may be absorbed in amusements ; that we may set
our affections on all the countless engrossing things of the
earth, and not on the things either of the intellect or the
spirit ? A wise Christian teacher1 has spoken on this sub
ject in language which I would commend to your most
earnest thoughts. " The increased supply," he says, " of the
means of excitement is a mark of our generation. The
whole state of society is more exciting than it was in our
fathers' days : the fresh facilities for travelling, the growth
of luxury, the spread of commerce, the ceaseless competi
tion for worldly success and honour from boyhood to old
age, the character of popular literature, the multiplication
of works of fiction, all tend to excite, to vary, to stimulate
human life. Some of these excitements," he continues,
" are in themselves lawful, some unlawful; many, if unavoid
able, are at least very perilous. But all resemble each other,
and differ from religious excitement in three points : that
these begin from without, and act upon the senses ; that
even those of them which are lawful or necessary require to
be moderated and controlled, or else will minister to evil ;
and that they generally have not a soothing, but rather an
unsatisfactory tendency, producing only a craving for fresh
indulgences : whereas that .fulness of the spirit to which the
Apostle opposes them begins from within, and acts on the
heart ; cannot be too earnestly sought, or too thankfully en
joyed ; and not only stimulates, but also pacifies our feelings
and affections."
This language, which three years ago was employed in
the Cathedral of Calcutta, is, I feel, appropriate in our
chapel to-day. It is impossible for any thoughtful man not
to see that in the upper classes of English society amuse-
1 Expository Sermons on the Epistles, by the late Bishop of Calcutta,
vol. ii.'p. 327.

58 THE THINGS ABOVE.
ment is coming more and more to be regarded as one of the
chief ends for which men live. More time is given to it.
Its claims are more openly avowed. It is more and more
set forward as one of the best elements of the national life.
It colours art and literature. So far from being justified or
apologized for, its dignity rather than its lawfulness is main
tained, and defended by weapons drawn from the armoury
alike of religion and of philosophy. Such a feeling, widely
spread throughout the country, the natural result of long
peace and almost uninterrupted prosperity, must inevitably
act upon us here. We are strongly tempted to be confirmed
in what has often been said to be the inclination of the
young, to reverse God's order, and to place the body first
in dignity, the intellect second, and last of all the spirit ;
reserving our highest admiration and our most delicious
thoughts for the contemplation of bodily excellence ; paying
a certain blind homage to intellectual success ; but seldom,
if ever, filling up any of our vacant thoughts with a de
lighted admiration of the graces of the Spirit of Christ,
gentleness, humility, a zeal for the glory of God, or any of
the thousand forms of self-denial.
And yet the barrenness qf soul which is implied in this
condition is an evil which we must not underrate. A mind
absorbed in amusement is really a very vulgar thing. Surely
many of us must have noticed that they who seem to live
for amusement alone become visibly deteriorated and de
graded. Their conversation becomes more trifling, and-
often more coarse. They are impatient of the introduction
of any subject which makes the slightest serious demand on
their thinking powers. Their reading becomes more and
more frivolous. All that is not exciting has become unpala
table ; and a taste which will not be satisfied with anything
unexciting has already become vitiated. And in the same
way we notice that they become indifferent to the things of
the soul. The unseen world with its mysteries and its terrors,
with its comfort for the sorrowing and the expectant, and its
stern denunciations of the self-satisfied and the unprofitable
servant, becomes for them less and less a reality. By

THE THINGS ABOVE. 59
degrees we see them unlearn what they had once seemed
to learn of the blessings of communion with God. The
Lord's Table has lost its attractions. The voice which
once spoke with a pathos tenderer than " authority '' — the
voice of a dying Saviour, " Do this in remembrance of Me "
— speaks now in forgotten tones, and sounds like an indis
tinct murmur from a far off land of outgrown dreams. And
what have they gained as a substitute for these holy inspi
rations of their youth? Admiration for something which
does not deserve admiration ; something which is quite as
often as not associated with ignorance and idleness and
selfishness ; something which does not necessarily involve
any even of the primary virtues of the unregenerate nature,
. such as generosity, daring, or friendliness ; something, in
short, which leads to nothing — transient, short-lived, evanes
cent, leaving, even after a few years, no memory that any one
cares to preserve.
You must judge, my brethren, whether this language is
harsh and overstrained. It is not intended to be so. I be
lieve that it represents, in very inadequate rather than exag
gerated colours, a danger to which we are all very much
exposed. Let us hold fast a few plain principles.
Even in youth the dignity of amusement is as nothing
compared with the dignity of diligence. Even for boys, and
much more for men, honest failure in work is incomparably
nobler than brilliant success in play. Even in boyhood the
day's work ought not habitually to be amusement. If it is —
palliate it as you will by the sophisms of good-nature — that
day is a mis-spent day, a lost day, a day passed unworthily,
and therefore ignobly, with whatever applause it may have
been greeted.
There ought to be nothing paradoxical in such utterances.
They ought indeed to be the veriest truisms, the most ele
mentary maxims, I do not say of religion, but of common
sense. But are they thus taken for granted? Surely you
know that the spirit which shapes our most familiar thoughts
is a spirit very different, might I not say contradictory?
Even in an earthly sense we might well apply to our own

60 THE THINGS ABOVE.

needs the inspired call, " Set your affection on things above,
not on things on the earth." Take the higher things of earth
in preference to the lower. Admire the intellect rather than
the body. . " Scorn " the mere " delights " of amusement,
and " live laborious days." Aspire to understand something
betimes of the noblest enterprises of which in our genera
tion this earth is the scene. Learn that ignorance is dis
creditable. Strive earnestly that you may not be found
wholly unequipped, utterly unarmed, when the battle of life
is upon you, and in many voices the question is put to you,
Do you understand where you are, and what is the part
which you have to play ?
But it is only for a moment that we venture to apply to
St. Paul's words a sense lower than the highest. "Set your
affection on things above, not on things on the earth."
More strictly, let the state of your mind be heavenly, not earthly.
1 All that earth has, even its best, is too mean an inheritance
for an heir of immortality, a citizen of the unseen, the only
true and real world.
Oh, how little are our hearts in heaven, holding converse
with the "things above"! What are they? The noblest1
spirits in former days who knew not our God would have
said, the True, the Pure, the Beautiful, the Unchangeable,
the Good. We say all these, but far more. We see these
holy things overshadowed by a Presence as tender as it is
divine, representing to us all we can conceive of nobleness
in man, all we can imagine of grandeur and holiness in
God. We see by faith " the heavens opened," and Jesus
sitting at the right hand of God. He is for us the sum and
substance of the " things above ;" He whom we have known
by His life on earth, He who showed us with what eyes this
earth should be looked upon by man ; how its abuses should
be reformed ; how its wounds should be gently healed ; how
work should be sanctified by prayer, and invigorated but not
retarded by repose ; how he who would follow in his Master's
steps must not refuse his Master's cross ; how all that seems
1 Compare the Phsedo and Republic of Plato, passim.

THE THINGS ABOVE. 6 1
to us most noble — hatred of hypocrisy and injustice, protests
against vice, longings for the restoration of all that makes
up a nation's greatness — are only then Christ-like, only then
the fruits of the Spirit of God, when they are united with
love for the individual soul, which claims our love the more
in proportion as it is degraded.
" Lift up your hearts ." Oh, what an object of ambition to
seek to imitate that divine Character, to make His cause
ours, to care for what He cares, to be the feeblest instru
ment in carrying out His will !
The youngest here cannot say that he knows not how to
set his affection on things above, when we tell him that they
are Jesus Christ, and all that Jesus Christ loves and honours.
We offer him no gloomy or fanciful counsel when we urge
him to ascend, day by day, to the thought of this glorious
Saviour, and not to be content, as so many are, with a
simple round of frivolous amusement. Let him ask Christ's
blessing on amusement. This is a simple, an unfailing
remedy against excess and against abuse.
" Why should the cup the sooner cloy,
Which God hath deign'd to bless?"1
There is no real satisfaction in amusement unless you feel that
you are doing right ; and you cannot feel that you are doing
right if you know that you are neglecting duties, or losing
your interest in the things of heaven. Unsanctified amuse
ment, like everything else in which God is not, is unsatisfying;
full of disappointments, heart-ren dings, and jealousies ; full
of the thought, "How is it that I am not better appre
ciated ? How comes it that I do not feel more content with
myself?" I repeat once more, " Ask for Christ's blessing upon your
amusement." You will enjoy it a thousand times more.
Your soul will become elevated instead of degraded. The
picture of a boy at school eager and energetic in everything,
hating all that is torpid and lounging, loving amusement,
1 " Christian Year," Hymn for 2nd Sunday after the Epiphany.

62 THE THINGS ABOVE.
loving intellectual labour, thirsting for distinction and use
fulness hereafter, and meanwhile, throughout all, praying to
God earnestly day l)y day to keep the image of his Saviour
cl,ear before his eyes, as the only Presence which can give
to his conscience calmness, or to the varied objects of his
ambition their due proportion — this is not, I believe, a fanci
ful picture of what a Public School can show, and I am sure it
is a glorious one. A place where such characters are naturally
trained must be a place on which pride and affection can
legitimately fasten; a place worthy of honour from men, a
place, we humbly venture to hope, " holy, acceptable unto
God."

June 19, 1864.

SERMON VIII.
NOT FAR FROM THE KINGDOM OF GOD.
St. Mark xii. 34.
" And when Jesus saw that he answered discreetly, He said unto him,
Thou art not far from the kingdom of God. "
We are led, I think, to form a favourable opinion of the
man to whom these words were addressed. He seems to
have been thoughtful and reverent, to have been attracted
by the teaching and character of Christ, and to have
detected the nothingness of all religion not based upon
the love of God and man. He was himself a scribe, a
recognized religious teacher, and so far tempted to overrate,
rather than disparage, the value of those outward ordinances
which made so prominent a part of the Jewish religion.
But he was an earnest, true-hearted man, and his earnest
ness made him clear-sighted. It was a comfort to him to
be told that holiness of heart was the one great thing
required by God. And so when our Lord declared that the
sum and substance of all the commandments given to Israel
was to be found in the two great cardinal precepts, " Thou
shalt love the Lord thy God," and " Thou shalt love thy
neighbour as thyself," this honest inquirer responded
eagerly, "Well, Master, Thou hast said the truth : for there
is one God ; and there is none other but He : and. to love
Him with all the heart, and with all the understanding, and
with all the soul, and with all the strength, and to love his

64 NOT FAR FROM THE KINGDOM OF GOD.
neighbour as himself, is more than all whole burnt-offerings
and sacrifices."
Such was the declaration which drew from our Lord the
remarkable judgment, " Thou art not far from the kingdom
of God." To enter the kingdom of God is to become a
true Christian ; first to understand, and, then to obey habitu
ally, the laws by which God endeavours to govern our hearts.
A man is qualified to be a member of any earthly kingdom
by acknowledging its government and yielding a willing
obedience to its laws. And so with the kingdom of God.
There is a certain state of mind which fits a man to be a
loyal subject of that kingdom. That state of mind is
variously described in Scripture. On one occasion our
Lord says, " Except ye be converted " — that is, thoroughly
changed in the bent of your inclinations — " Except ye be
converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter
into the kingdom of heaven."1 Here, you see, the child-like
mind — simplicity, purity, affectionate devotion — is given as
the great qualification for membership in Christ's kingdom.
Again, our Lord says, in speaking to Nicodemus, " Except
a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." 2
Here we are told that the greatest conceivable change must
come over a man before he is qualified to be a member of
God's kingdom. The exact nature of the inward change is
not laid down, but it is so decisive and so thorough that it
can only be compared to a new birth. A new and different
existence begins when the soul enters the kingdom of God.
Speaking generally, we may say that he and he alone has
spiritually entered the kingdom of God who has taken Jesus
Christ for his Lord and his God, and has resolved to devote
all his powers and to submit all his inclinations to the fulfil
ment of what he believes to be His will. To- be Christ-like,
to acknowledge Christ's Person, to love Him, to try to find
out what He wishes, and to do it humbly in dependence
upon Him — this is to have entered the kingdom of God,
and to be an active citizen in support of its government.
1 Matt, xviii. 3. 2 John iii. 3.

NOT FAR FROM THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 65
And the words of our text remind us that there are
approaches leading up to this holy city. There is a state of
mind in which we are nearly Christians, but not quite. We
have not actually entered the kingdom of God, but we are
not far from it.
It will, I think, be good for us to reflect a little upon this
peculiar state of mind. Perhaps it represents the state of
many. Perhaps it may seem to us to represent our own.
Perhaps, by God's mercy, the conviction may be pressed
upon us, " I have too long been content with this state of
undecided allegiance. It is a poor thing to be always
tending to an object, but never reaching it. I will no longer
be satisfied to be ' not far ' from a blessing which I might at
once enter and make my home for ever."
Now it is plain that there are vast differences among
those who are "not far from the kingdom of God"—
campers, as it were, on the frontiers of Christendom.
There are some who deserve praise for having advanced
so far ; others — doubtless infinitely more — who deserve
blame for having pushed no farther.
The scribe to whom our Lord spoke belonged plainly to
the first of these classes. He had done what so few of us, my
brethren, living as we do in the full blaze of Christian light, are
able to do — he had come to see that religion was essentially
an inward spiritual thing, a thing- of the heart; and that,
however correct a man's acts or beliefs might be, he was not
a religious man unless with every power of his body, his
intellect, and his soul he loved God and his fellow-men. A
grand and momentous discovery fchis, which we must all
pray to make some day ; a discovery which if made is not
necessarily made once for all; a discovery which may be
made and then lost for awhile, and then by God's great
mercy rediscovered under the discipline of time, and per
plexity, and, above all, affliction. Those to whom the
words of Christ can be addressed in a tone of approval are,
in our day, those who have not had great advantages, but
have made the most of these. There are some in every
congregation to whom, in early childhood, religion has not
F

66 NOT FAR FROM THE KINGDOM OF GOD.
been made attractive. The maxims which have guided the
conduct of those to whom they looked up have been worldly.
There has been hardly any religious reverence, very little
recognition of God's presence, very rare appeals in His
name ; in short, very little to imply that the home was a
Christian home, devoted solemnly by its heads to the service
of Christ. Now I say that when those who have been thus
brought up show that they have not become worldly and
selfish, we may apply to them the words of our Lord.
Perhaps they are bold and truthful, chivalrous in the defence
of weakness, always ready to do another a kind turn,
favourites in the family, because this good-nature, as it is
called, is so unfailing. Perhaps we notice in them something
of a reverence for holy things, even though they hardly
understand their meaning. They would shrink from using
any disparaging or scornful language of the convictions of
others. They would feel that these had a claim to be
respected, and they would honestly respect them. Now of
such persons we feel justified in saying that they are " not
far from the kingdom of God." We see in them, so to
speak, the making of the true Christian character. God
has been all along preparing their hearts, though they knew
it not. When at last His call speaks to them in some vehe
ment tone — perhaps by a terrible sorrow, or an outburst of
wickedness in some one for whom they care — we feel sure
that they will embrace the call. , They will henceforward
see their Saviour in acts of duty which hitherto seemed
to have no connecting link with heaven. They will wake,
as it were, from sleep with the conviction of Jacob, " The
Lord is in this place ; and I knew it not." x
Some of you, I think, must have been struck with thoughts
similar to these when you came upon anything noble and
yet not quite Christian in literature. It is a wise practice
to notice, as we read books which do not professedly treat
of religion, how far, when they touch upon matters of" right
and wrong, they show that they acknowledge the Christian
1 Gen. xxviii. 1 6.

NOT FAR FROM THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 67
standard. Perhaps we are dwelling with the keenest sense
of delight on the portrait of society as drawn by some great
satirist. How delicious to note the delicate touches of
irony with which he paints the hollowness of numerous
social forms ! What an ear he has for all that rings untrue !
What a generous contempt for all that is merely showy in
life ! How he detests its utter vulgarity, while he makes us
laugh at it and enjoy it ! What a noble sermon he gives us,
though in the mask of gay fiction, on the empty vanity of
worldliness, the poverty of what the world pronounces rich,
the insipid meanness of what the world agrees to call noble !
Do we not say to ourselves as we read, " He is not far
from the kingdom of God ? " This is almost, but not quite,
Christian teaching. When I read my Bible, or the words of
men who have lived confessedly in its spirit, I find at least
equal disapproval of all that is not built upon truth and
justice. I find the poorness and the debasing character of
worldly riches denounced with certainly equal freedom. I
find at least equal reverence paid to goodness and earnest
ness in the poor and the simple. But then I find besides
something which I do not find in the satirist, with all his
scorn of falsehood and nobleness of heart. I find infinite
pity for all this wickedness and misery ; the most bitter
sense of its sinfulness as well as of its folly ; a conviction
that nothing else could set it right but the life and death of
God's Son upon the earth ; the marvellous love and con
descension implied in the fact that when He came and lived
among us He sought by choice the society of the lowest
and most ignorant, and there — not criticizing, but suffering ;
not a satirist, but a Saviour; not pointing out falsehood
merely, but revealing Himself by His acts as the Truth —
" bare our weakness and our woe." If any teacher, what
ever his genius, shows that he cannot view society with
something of the yearnings of a Saviour's spirit, I note his
teaching as so far not Christian. I do not say it is anti-
christian ; I do not say that it is not an instrument in God's
hands for showing the " yet more excellent way " which He
Himself adopts ; but I say that we must not confuse the
f 2

68 NOT FAR FROM THE KINGDOM OF GOD.
kingdom of God with the many roads which lead towards it.
There are those who are the children of the kingdom, who'
have already entered in " through the gates into the city ; " \
and there are also others of whom truth can only say they
are " not far from the kingdom of God."
Reflections such as these may do us good service as we
pass through life, and are brought into close contact either
with the thoughts of great writers, or with great living per
sonal influences. If we habitually compare them with the
Christian standard, the standard of the kingdom of God,
we shall be prepared to do them the fullest justice by ac
knowledging in them boldly and unreservedly the charac
teristics which Christ approves; and on the other hand we
shall be preserved from the great danger of imagining that
they have found the true panacea for the wrongs and the
faults of society. We shall not hail them as the preachers of
a new Gospel — more efficacious, because more elastic, than
the Gospel of Nazareth. Whenever we set down our
judgment deliberately of some great human guide, that his
teaching is lower than the Christian, and that he is only
"not far from the kingdom of God," we also set to our
seal to that mysterious and far-reaching declaration of an
apostle : "There is none other name under heaven given
among men whereby we must be saved;" but only "the
name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom" men " crucified,
whom God raised from the dead." 2
But the words of our text suggest a more personal, per
haps to some a more natural and intelligible application.
Are there any of us who feel in our hearts that the best
which could be said of us would be that we are " not far
from the kingdom of God"? "Not far." We have come
within sight of the holy city ; our eyes have seen something
of its splendour; seen the sun shining on its pinnacles,
seen something of the gleam of the wall of jasper and the
gates of pearl. Yet went we not in. We "walk about Sion,
and go round about her, and tell the towers thereof."3 We
1 Rev. xxii. 14. ^ Acts iv. 12, 10. 3 Ps. xlviii. 11.

NOT FAR FROM THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 69
take the measurement, as it were, of her glories and her
promises ; and yet we do not quite enter. " Not every one
that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom
of heaven."1 Is it not, my brethren — I ask the question
most earnestly — is it not one of our dangers at the present
day, when religion is, as it were, made easy for us, that we
remain half Christians, half believers, our convictions a
little way behind our beliefs, our actions waiting till our
convictions are more decided? We are determined reso
lutely never to enlist in any other service than Christ's, but
yet we adjourn irresolutely from day to day the moment of
swearing allegiance to Him. Some of us have no doubts
at all as to Christ's unreserved claims upon us. If doubts
were suggested, we should be indignant. We know that every
day is to be given to Him. We acknowledge the obliga
tion, and we always intend to devote to Him the next. Our
principles are Christian, or they are nothing. We admit that
all evil must, so far as we can aid, be exterminated, because
He abhors it. We must care for the souls of all our brethren,
because He died for them, and is trying now to save them.
We must do our daily work with perfect honesty, because
He sets it We must control our tempers, and check our
dreams of comfort or greatness, because He, when reviled,
reviled not again ; and because He, when He was rich,
chose to become poor, and to have nowhere to lay His
sacred head. Such are our beliefs, beliefs which we will
never surrender : and yet for all this we know that we have
never yet thoroughly given ourselves over to Christ, yield
ing Him for His service here and elsewhere the whole sum
of our powers and affections.
And some of us, perhaps, feel a shrinking from throwing
ourselves at Christ's feet. Not that we wish to hold aloof,
but because we feel that we are unworthy. The service of
Christ, faithfully and consistently performed, seems to us so
magnificent a thing that we dare not yet profess to have
assumed it We are too honest to make this profession.
1 Matt. vii. 21.

70 NOT FAR FROM THE KINGDOM OF GOD.
We fear that if we took Christ's name on our lips, we should
be taking it in vain. Meanwhile we are conscientious and
active. We do not neglect our work. We strive zealously
for the good of others, and He who sees our hearts approves
all these strivings, however imperfect, and pronounces them
" not far" from His kingdom.
And yet, my brethren, there is great danger in delay.
Often we see that those who are "not far" from being
Christians go back instead of going forward. They are
farther from the gates of the holy city one year than they
were the year before. Because they have not more, there is
taken away from them even that they had. They begin to
care less for the kingdom of God. Its glories become dim
and unreal. Their hopes of raising others and themselves
to a nobler life become less vivid. They become more
acquiescent in evil and in mediocrity of good. Human
nature seems to them but a poor thing, hardly worth much
exertion, because they no longer see it illumined by the
redemption of Jesus Christ.
My brethren, if you would work the work of Him that
sent you while it is day, and leave any mark behind you to
show the beauty and the might of a Christian boyhood, do
not delay to be definitely Christian. Honour all good of
every kind — all generous feelings, all manly conscientious
ness, all hatred of meanness and falsehood. Covet earnestly
these noble gifts ; but do not stop there. All these may
be outside, though " not far" from the kingdom of God.
Your place is within, at the throne of God, at the feet of
Christ, a fellow-worker with God's holiest servants, with
those who see His face and bear His name on their fore
heads. Oh, we must not linger outside, even though some
portion of the inner glory be reflected on the precincts
beyond. " Blessed" indeed "are they that do His command
ments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may
enter in through the gates into the city." J
1 Rev. xxii. 14.
Oct. 9, 1864.

SERMON IX.

ALL SAINTS.
Rev. xiv. 12, 13.
" Here is the patience of the saints : here are they that keep the command.
ments of God, and the faith of Jesus. And I heard a voice from
heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the
Lord from henceforth : Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from
their labours; and their works do follow them."
When anything occurs to bring back to our minds these
long familiar words, we almost inevitably say to ourselves,
in thought, if not in language, " Let me die the death of the
righteous, and let my last end be like his." 1 All the sophis
tries which in our colder moments conceal from our view the
blessedness of God's servants are at once blown to the winds.
It is easy to sneer at efforts to be serious and good. Who
of us has not, in some moments of his life, looked on
religion as a gloomy thing — a thing of useless formalities
and cramping restraints, a thing wanting in nature, in cheer
fulness, in manliness ; in a word, in life i
Some of us, perhaps, have ridiculed others for being too
much in earnest about doing their duty. They have not
exactly advised them to sin; but they have said, "What
is the use of being so particular ? Why not give yourself a
little more freedom ? No one will ever know what you do.
1 Numb, xxiii. 10.

72 ALL SAINTS.

You will get no thanks for all this elaborate conscientious
ness, this needless pharisaical precision. Why not be a
little more like others ? Duty is holy, no doubt : but there
are such things as gaiety and freedom."
Now, my brethren, I call all such rallying as this by the
name of sophistry. It is not absolutely and exclusively
false. If it were, it would be less formidable, because it
would be seen through at a glance by any one who was in the
least degree in earnest about his soul. But " a lie which is
half a truth is ever the blackest of lies." And these argu
ments contain a certain element of truth, inasmuch as they
avail themselves of the poorness and tameness by which
the religion of some persons is undoubtedly clouded, and
make their appeal to those vigorous and generous elements
within us, which are as much a part of our nature as a re
morse for sin or a desire after holiness. But I do stigmatize
these arguments by the name of sophistry; and, with
out attempting to prove that they deserve it, I say, boldly,
that their inherent falsehood is at once disclosed to us by
the mere repetition in our ears of words such as those which
I have taken for our text. I am convinced that you feel
this. As you hear those words once more, which speak of
the patience and the faith of the saints; as the image
passes once more before your minds of the magnificent
possibilities of which' redeemed "human nature is capable ;
as you hear, in the majestic music of St. John's Reve
lation, of the blessed dead dying in the Lord, and receiving
into their wearied souls the voice of the Comforter in con
firmation of their blessedness — " even so, saith the Spirit, for
they rest from their labours ; and their works do follow them "
— then it is no mere sentiment, no mere emotion, which
thrills your heart with the conviction that these have "chosen
the better part," that they had learned the secret of life, and
that that secret is worth possessing.
The return of All Saints' Day invites us to such thoughts
as these. It encourages us to fix our minds for a time not
on our own infirmities or perplexities, but on the glories to
which God has allowed others to ascend, and that, simply

ALL SAINTS. 73

and solely, remember, by the help of that strength which
He offers in equal measure to the weakest here present
to-day. Let us then attempt to ascend, as it were, the
mountain of Transfiguration, and there endeavour to catch
some reflex of the splendour with which the true saints of
God are invested by their Master.
Our text will show us the chief graces which have made
them what they are. " Here is the patience of the saints :
here are they that keep the commandments of God, and the
faith of Jesus." A similar passage had said just before,
" Here is the patience and the faith of the saints." So
then the saint-like graces on which we are here invited to
gaze axe patience and faith. Have you ever thought enough
of the beauty of the virtue of patience ? We all know how
hard it is to shake off the fetters of present thoughts and
impulses. When under the dominion of some strong im
pulse, we live like beings without a past and without a future,
without experience and without foresight. An insulting
word is uttered by a friend. Our pride takes fire. The
friend is a friend no more. All the affection of the past is
blotted out — the sweet counsel we took together, the labours
we shared, the familiar interchange of kindly words and
acts. If we could look onward, we should see that within
a few hours or days the mist of offended pride would have
rolled away, the old affection would revive, and the
temporary alienation be forgotten. But pride and patience
do not go together. We cannot wait. We cannot stop to
consider. To do so would spoil all the pleasure of feeling
a right to be angry. There is no time to inquire how the
offensive word came to be uttered ; whether it can admit
of any explanation ; whether it was deliberately intended ;
whether it mav not have been bitterly regretted almost
before it was fully uttered. My brethren, I am speaking, as
you will see, only of one form of patience. But it is a very
noble form. Pray that it may be granted to you. Pray for
a mind calm enough to hold its own, however much at any
particular moment it may be provoked into irritation. Ask
that no momentary provocation may blind you either as to

74 ALL SAINTS.

the character or the intention of the person who has pro
voked you. Once master, by the help of God, this simple
form- j|of patience, and then gradually patience will disclose
to you some of her yet deeper treasures. She will teach
you to be willing to work on without seeing any visible
result of your labours ; first in your efforts to purify and
elevate your own soul, then in your longings to leaven the
life of others. She will say to you, Do not take for granted
that you have failed because the result at present seems
poor. The end is not yet. Look with suspicion on rapidly
won victories. Those master builders who have been per
mitted to raise up the grandest edifices either of personal
piety or of extensive reforms have generally been men who
have passed through repeated disappointments, and by
failing often have been taught to build circumspectly, to
examine the soil, and to lay warily every stone.
It is interesting often to see on its secular side the
operation of a grand Christian grace. Some who would
scorn patience at the hands of a saint may reverence her
when she comes from the hands of a statesman. An in
structive story has reached us of the most commanding of
English ministers. One day, we are told, the conversation
turned on the quality most required in a Prime Minister.
One said Eloquence, another Knowledge, another Toil.
"No," said the man who bore the burden for seventeen
years, " it is Patience." 1
This great man, with all his firmness of will, and with all
the mass of public confidence which made him for so many
years the most powerful man in England, had learned what
I venture to call the Christian lesson, that if you wish to
succeed in any great moral enterprise, either in your own
heart or that of others, you must be prepared to wait.
" Work your work betimes, and in His time He will give
you your reward." 2 " It is good that a man should both
hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord." 3
It is very touching, as we read the lives of God's holiest
1 The younger Pitt. The story is given in Lord Stanhope's Life.
2 Ecclus. Ii. 30. . " » Lam. iii. 26.

ALL SAINTS. 75

servants, to notice how one by one He leads them forward
along the road of patience. At first, they " hear the word
with joy." They are conscious that God has called them,
and they glow with the delight of believing that He has
some great work for them to do. Already they see some
means of serving Him, and they throw themselves into it
with ardour, in the full belief that some sign and wonder —
some signal visible success — will shortly prove that the work
is of God. So far He has brought them by the impulses
of His Spirit. He has roused them from the torpor of
indifference. He has kindled in their souls a flame which,
by the grace of God, shall never be put out. And then,
having led them thus far, He changes His discipline. He
allows them to see obstacles which they never dreamed of.
Had they seen them at first, they would hardly have set out.
But now, though high enough to check, they are not terrible
enough to daunt. They may produce depression, but
depression is not despair. Despair makes a man turn
round and retrace his steps with hurried rapidity. Depres
sion throws him on his knees ; but his face is still turned to
the heavenly Jerusalem, and he lifts up his hands in need
of assistance "to the mercy-seat of God's holy temple." It is
in the struggle with these intrusions of depression, these
temporary advances of the powers of darkness, that God's
dealings with His servants are most instructive. Here lies
the treasure of Christian biographies. Not so much in their
most rapt utterances, or their most brilliant successes, or
even their glorious martyrdoms, do we look for the lessons
which the " great cloud of witnesses " have been commis
sioned to impart. But in the seasons of gloom — John, in
the prison, yearning to know, "Art Thou He that should
come, or look we for another ? " Elijah, at Horeb, requesting
that he may die ; Luther, in his solitude, haunted by mis
givings that his doctrines were false ; Wilberforce saying,
after a crushing defeat of his measure for emancipating the
slaves, " I felt as if God had deserted me ;"— it is in these
falls and risings again that we learn the real power of the
might of Christ. Here is the lesson of All SainU' Day.

76 ALL SAINTS.

" Here is the patience and the faith of the saints." Patience
and faith are sister graces. " The trying of faith worketh
patience." 1 The " perfect work " of patience is the " more
confirmation" of faith. Taught as we are by the Epistle to
the Hebrews, is it necessary that I should remind you how
faith in the invisible God has been the instrument by which
in every age the world has been overcome ? A line of light
from heaven shines throughout every book of the Old
Testament, resting on the heads of "All Saints," — of
Patriarch, and Lawgiver, and Judge, and King, and Pro
phet, and even of feeble but heroic women, " of whom the
world was not worthy." This line of light is the reflection
of their faith. Differing in all else, in faith they were made
one. They believed in the invisible God, when weaker
souls could not see Him. They would not listen to the
seductive voices of cowardice, or indolence, or voluptuous
idolatry. They clung to the powers of the world to come.
They were not satisfied with what they saw. They knew
that God had* promised spiritual promises which the world
could not give ; and though the promise tarried, and their
lives ebbed away, and the spirit of unbelief whispered in
their ears, " Curse God and die,"2 yet they " all died," 3 as
they had lived, "in faith, not having received the promises,
but having seen them afar off and were persuaded of them,"
as of a thing certain, " and embraced them," as dearly loved
friends, " and confessed that they were strangers and pil
grims on the earth," and that their citizenship and their
home were in the world beyond the grave.
My brethren, that great principle of faith is not yet
dead. It is still, as it has always been, the salt of the earth;
the one thing which prevents mankind from becoming
utterly corrupt, and keeps open the ladder of communica
tion between God and man. Nor is it always acting on
the defensive. The faith of the saints — the firm trust in
God which fills the souls of all His true servants — has been
the author of all the great achievements which redeem the
1 James i. 3. 2 Job ii. 9. s Heb. xi. 13.

ALL SAINTS. 77

history of the world from vulgarity and from selfishness. It
is sometimes well to be reminded of some of the more
illustrious triumphs of faith ; to see the might with which it
moves when, untrammelled by conventional restraints, it
acts on a large scale. Suffer me, in the spirit of the Epistle
to the Hebrews, to bring before you a very few of the most
illustrious Christians who in various ages, since the founda
tion of the Christian Church, have by their faith won tri-'
umphs for the Cross. Thank God, we can reverence them
all, as His true servants, without respect of country, or of
that particular branch of His universal Church to which
they severally belonged.
By faith the Italian, Benedict, born in an age when the
world seemed hastening to destruction, first conquered his
own vehement passions, and then in solitude and silence
built up an order of devoted Christians on the double pillars
of Labour and Obedience. Thus in the midst of barbarism
he refounded the Christian Church, and made a home for
piety, and for learning, and for love of souls. *
By faith his disciple, the English Boniface, hearkened to
the divine voice which bade him " Go and preach the
Gospel to all nations," and went out all alone, " not knowing
whither he went," to become the Apostle of the wild tribes
of Germany. By faith he struggled on in his gigantic work
for nearly forty years, till at length he met with his appro
priate reward. He fell beneath the sword of some uncon
verted heathens, whose souls he sought, and who knew not
what they did.
By faith the German, Martin Luther, living in an age
when human corruption had well-nigh blotted out what had
been achieved by the faith of former generations, struck his
mighty blows for freedom and for truth ; declared that it
was impossible for indulgences or any form of priestcraft to
take away sin ; and with one hand on the open Scriptures,
which by faith he had translated into the language of his
people, pointed to the I,amb of God, who alone " taketh
away the sin of the world."
By faith the Spaniard, Francis Xavier, gave up the

78 ALL SAINTS,

charms of rank and wealth and popularity, and could find
no rest till the Cross of Christ had been planted among the
millions of India and of China. By faith he encountered
with never-clouded gaiety every conceivable form of hard
ship and danger; and at length, stretched on the naked
beach with the cold blasts of a Chinese winter aggravating
his death agonies, heard, by faith, the music of angels, and
died with the triumphant song on his lips, " In Thee, O
Lord, have I trusted : I shall never be confounded."
By faith the hero King of Sweden drew his sword in
defence of outraged Protestantism, and challenged, with
apparently unequal powers, the princes who wielded the
whole strength of Romanism.
By faith our own Howard resolved to purify the horrors
of prisons ; and after' having forced his recommendations
upon Parliament, and after appealing to all the potentates
of Europe, died at last in the heart of Russia of a fever
caught by attendance on the diseased.
By faith Henry Martyn detected the hollowness of our
position in India, and saw that our only lawful title to that
empire was our willingness to win souls to Christ. By faith
he sacrificed all, and went out to that vast continent, and
died grandly at his post, and left to the Church of England
an everlasting necessity for doing in that country " the work
of an evangelist," and proved to the consciences of all her
truest children that " woe is unto " her if she " preach not
the Gospel."
Once more, by faith Arnold detected the blot which
marred the education of our great Public Schools. He saw
what others could not see, that the souls of boys were
almost unrecognized. Their minds were cultivated and
their manners were polished; but the idea that a Public
School might be a great training-place for the service of
Christ, and that in the teaching of these Christian lessons
boys themselves might be the chief educators — this was a
discovery which forty years ago was hardly dreamed of, but
which the. faith of one great servant of Christ was enabled
to realize and to transmit.

ALL SAINTS. 79

And oh, my brethren, if the mention of these illustrious
names — these men who were the glory of their times —
seems to any of you to be too far removed from your daily
life to be charged with an impressive and a practical lesson,
may I not venture to make an appeal nearer home ? Can
you not — many of you at least — find your examples of
faith in the dearest circle of all ? Can you not say, "By faith
in my earliest infancy my father and my mother dedicated
me to God in baptism. By that act they showed what they
wished and what they believed. They knew that I should
be tempted, as they had been, to be worldly and selfish and
haunted by impure and irreverent thoughts. But they
believed in the love of God, and by faith they committed
me to His holy keeping, and by faith commanded me to
keep His sayings, to the intent that when I came up, I
might show my children the same ? "
Oh let not the example of this faith be lost upon us ! Let
not all this goodness with which Christ has robed His true
servants be a mystery unintelligible to us / He for whom
they lived, and by whom they conquered, calls us to follow
them, and so to follow Him. My brethren, there is nothing
impossible for those who believe in Christ, and are content
to bide God's time.

Oct. 30, 1864.

SERMON X.
THE MISSIONARY.
2 Cor. ii. 16.
" And who is sufficient for these things ? "
Who indeed is sufficient for the task of being a true minister
of Christ ? Of guiding another's soul ? Of stirring in
another longings after the love of Christ? Of awakening
zeal, of removing perplexities, of exemplifying in his own
person that contagious holiness which is the one sole prac
tical evidence for winning a world to the feet of its Saviour ?
" The qualities," it has been said, " which are requisite for
the higher part of the ministry, are great powers of sympathy,
a mind masculine in its power, feminine in its tenderness ;
humbleness ; wisdom to direct ; that knowledge of the
world which the Bible calls the wisdom of the serpent ; and
a knowledge of evil which comes rather from repulsion from
it than from personal contact with it. But those qualifi
cations which adapt a man for the merely showy parts of
the Christian ministry, are of an inferior order ; fluency,
self-confidence, tact, a certain histrionic power of conceiving
feelings, and expressing them."1
The qualifications of the Christian minister, and especially
the qualifications of the missionary — this shall be our sub
ject for this evening. I shall say but little of the work, or
of the special needs of heathen countries at the present day.
Such a subject could only be treated adequately by one who
1 Robertson's Lectures on the Epistles to the Corinthians, p. 68.

THE MISSIONARY. 81
had himself been a missionary, and could tell us, as it were,
face to face of what God's Spirit had enabled him to do.
Ours shall be a humbler task ; to speak less of the work
than of the workman ; to endeavour to sketch, however
imperfectly, those qualities, whether of nature or of grace,
which appear to be most abundantly blessed by God for the
successful carrying of His word to the hearts of uninstructed
or hostile hearers.
As we speak, you will see that the qualities are not
solely or chiefly clerical. They are the qualities to be
sought earnestly by every man or by every boy who is
conscious of having a work to do for his Saviour ; and
who, feeling something of its magnitude, and possibly
already something of its burthen, finds his own heart
echoing the cry of the Apostle, " Who is sufficient for these
things?" Among the qualifications of the true missionary I do not
scruple to put first a "love of souls ;" or if the expression
be thought to have too technical a meaning, let us say
father an earnest longing that other men and women and
boys should become true Christians at heart. I know no
single excellence the mention of which puts us more to
shame than this noble Christ-like love of souls. Bear me
witness, my brethren; I appeal to you all. Do we not
speak of a hard thing ?
Is there not all the difference in the world between this
love of souls on the one hand, and on the other general
benevolence, or even an enlightened philanthropy and
genuine love of human progress ? We have heard of persons
loving to see happy faces around them. It is a sentiment
which is amiable, and not to be disparaged. We have read
the works of great writers on politics or political economy,
whose zeal for the well-being of man, for his emancipation
from the fetters of unjust laws or tyrannical customs, his
growth in bodily health, in mental culture and moral inde
pendence, cannot be for a moment doubted. All honour to
such enlightened zeal, and to the investigations which it
awakens. It is doing the work of Christianity. It is not

82 THE MISSIONARY.
essentially Christian, but it is sowing a seed which Christians
may thankfully reap.
But far different from this — surely infinitely higher than
this — is the true "love of souls." I picture to myself a
true-hearted missionary communing with himself on this
wise : " Life at home is full of comforts ; but the Son of
Man came to seek and to save that which was lost. The
society of congenial minds and of vigorous intellects is
infinitely charming and refreshing ; but Christ, the power of
God and the wisdom of God, chose to be the friend of
publicans and sinners. Where the need was sorest, there
He made His home ; not chilled by repulse, not sickened
by ingratitude, not discouraged by that maxim — so terrible
to the missionary — ' Many be called, but few are chosen : '
no ! but yearning ever for the purification and the elevation
of poor sin-stained souls ; singling out wherever He went
the deepest, the most solemn, the sacred immortal part of
each child of man, fixing His eye of love upon it, and
striving by the cords of love to draw it up to His Father's
presence. As is my Master " — can we not fancy the true
missionary ejaculating? — "so should also His servant be.
Give me, O God, this Thine own love of souls. Give me
all other aids to duty ; give me the conscientiousness which
shrinks from neglected work ; give me the ambition which
despises half-won successes ; give me the clear penetrating
eye which sees the next step to be taken, and cannot
be diverted into devious paths; but above all — and, if
Thou wilt, alone of all — give me the abiding love of souls.
Save me from the indifference which can see unconcerned
some acquaintance or some class of Thy creatures living
on and on in indifference to Thee. Make me as zealous
for them, as they are for their own bodily wants or social
comforts. Grant me to ' do the work of an evangelist,' to
rouse in cold hearts a sense of want and dissatisfaction, and.
then slowly to fill the void with the good news of a Saviour
hitherto unknown or misunderstood."
Here, then, we have the solid foundation on which all
missionary success must be reared. There is no substitute

THE MISSIONARY. 83
for it. Heart to heart, soul to soul, man must come with his
brother man, if he is to implant within him any seeds of a
spiritual life.
But we pass to more commonplace qualifications. A
successful missionary must be in the main a hopeful,
sanguine man. One of the sorest temptations to mission
aries is the temptation to despond. This is a tempta
tion hardly known to any but noble natures. Those
who have no high aims, no grand enterprises with which
they have intertwined their hearts, cannot tell the miseries
of misgiving. But the records of missionaries are es
sentially records of high aims and gallant enterprises ;
and so you find a large space filled by their hours of
darkness. I find one eminent missionary speaking of the "almost
unconquerable depression produced by the mere thought of
going back to India ; to struggle there with the darkening
effects of universal idolatry ; with the secret sense of
incredulity in Christian truth, giving rise to the ever-
• recurring doubt, Can the Gospel light be only for us
few, while countless myriads of the human race still walk in
the shadow of death ? "
I find another most illustrious missionary 1 not ashamed to
• confess : " I thought of my future labours among them with
some despondency. The sight of men, women, and children
all idolaters, makes me shudder, as if in the dominions of
the prince of darkness. I fancy the frown of God to be
visible ; there is something peculiarly awful in the stillness
which prevails. Whether it is the relaxing influence of the
climate, or what, I do not know ; but there is everything
here to depress the spirits : all nature droops."
These are the weak moments of strong natures. They
are enough to show one of the characteristic trials of the
missionary, and of the need there is that he should be a
man naturally cheerful and hopeful. A man of a gloomy
temperament would act unwisely in embracing the mis-1
1 Henry Martyn: see Life and Letters, April 26th, 1806.
G 2

84 THE MISSIONARY.

sionary's life. He would be likely himself to faint on his
way, and also to lack those thousand little opportunities of
attracting others, which are granted only to those whose
face is an index of the cheerful heart within.
Again, a missionary must be a man of delicate sympathy.
In saying this, we are not merely repeating what was said
before as to his love of souls. The most holy natures are
sometimes deficient in at least the finer shades of sympathy.
They find it hard to place themselves in another's position,
to feel as he feels, to identify themselves with him. They
grieve at rather than with his sorrows. They do not grieve
in his way. They are not selfish ; but on the other hand,
whether from want of imagination, or from limited experience,
they cannot fully obey the inspired maxim : " Rejoice with
them that rejoice, and weep with them that weep."1 This is
one of their trials; one of the deficiencies which prevent
their light from shining out before men with its full and
natural brilliancy. Such persons, if they adopt the calling
of the missionary, will probably find again and again that
their success is marred, or at least himdered, by some
misconception which sympathy would have forestalled ;
some supposed difference of opinion which sympathy would
have explained; some fancied ground of complaint which
sympathy would have removed, or, more probably, antici
pated and prevented.
Yes, the gift of sympathy is indeed one of the most
glorious gifts of the missionary. When I read of one that
" the boy seemed to be marked out by nature for something
different from other boys ; " 2 when I read of his kindness,
gentleness, and unselfishness ; his sweet and cheerful gravity;
his tender compassion for the poor, the lame, the blind, and
the sick ; that he was always anxious to share with others
whatever he possessed ; that he was always striving, with
kindly ingenuity, to procure some indulgence of gratification
for others ; that even in his boyhood he seemed never to
live for himself; and yet by not seeking it, he exercised an
1 Rom. xii. 15.
2 See Maguire's Life of Father Mathew, page 10.

THE MISSIONARY. 85

influence upon those around him, which they never thought
of questioning ; when I read so noble a eulogy on one on
whom the grave has closed less than ten years, I feel, my
brethren, that the true missionary spirit has not died out in
these our days, and also that the earliest boyhood is not too
early to exhibit it in the beauty of its promise.
We pass to another qualification. A successful mis
sionary must have taken a very sure and definite hold of
the main promises and doctrines of the Gospel. He must
know what he believes. His heart and his lips alike must
give no uncertain sound. A man troubled by mental per
plexities, more apt to dwell on the difficulties than on the
certainties of the Christian faith ; more anxious to be
candid and honest than to be holy and saint-like and to be
" up and doing" in the service of Christ ; such a man may
be a true and a noble-hearted Christian, but if he elects to be
a missionary he has mistaken his calling. A missionary is
one believer among many unbelievers. His own faith must
be strong and simple ; if not, he will not be able to speak
or act with decision. His tongue will be tied, his arm will
be palsied by the fatal consciousness that he has not
thoroughly grasped and appropriated the truths which he is
professing to impress upon others.
One of the blessings of missionary life is the definiteness
of its aims. A man who wishes to do his duty in England
is doubtless spared many of the trials which beset the life
of the missionary, but he is certainly more likely to be
perplexed as to what his duty is. The missionary at least
sees his enemies. All that mass of ignorance — all those
moral defilements which invariably accompany grovelling
superstitions — here is something to be attacked without
misgivings. Here is the plainly marked battle-field on
which his life-struggle is to be fought. It is very striking
in reading the journals and letters of missionaries to
observe how simple is their language, how clearly they
seem to see their way for the next step in advance. They
have, as we have said, their times of loneliness, their
moments of terrible depression, almost of despair. But

86 THE MISSIONARY.

they have a peculiar consciousness of having a definite
work for God, a work of which the progress or the retro
gression is fairly visible and tangible. " My whole soul
wrestled with God ;" such is the language of one of the
noblest of them, as he sailed out to India on his six years'
mission, destined to die in absolute solitude, without a
single Christian near him. " I am going upon a work exactly
according to the mind of Christ ; and my glorious Lord,
whose power is uncontrollable, can easily open a way for
His feeble follower through the thickest of the ranks of
His enemies." 1
Surely we may say without disparagement to the sanctity
of all callings — without for a, moment implying that the
lawyer, the physician, the soldier, the merchant, the schoolr
boy, have not a work to do for Christ to the full as real as
that of the missionary — yet surely we may say that there
are few labours in which the labourer is able to whisper to
himself with such unalloyed confidence and exultation, " /
am going upon a work exactly according to the mind of
Christ. My success is the success of Christ. Every foot
of ground that I gain, every prejudice that I remove, every
degrading custom that I uproot, every soul that I lift into
communion with God, every school that I plant, every
passage of the Scriptures that I translate or interpret, all
has but one object; it is to prepare Christ's way, and to
give Him His own."
This tone of undoubting confidence is the proper, the
natural tone of the missionary. He who has it not could
scarcely enter with safety on the missionary's career.
Is it possible that this brief enumeration of some of the
chief qualifications of the missionary may suggest to any
one here present thoughts that may ripen into resolves ;
resolves that may mould his whole future life? Indeed,
indeed, my brethren, the calling is a most noble one. It is
impossible to "magnify the office" too highly. Let us all
learn early in life to honour it, and to conceive of it as one
1 See Henry Martyn's Life and Letters : 1806.

THE MISSIONARY. 87

of the very grandest and most difficult of all the professions
open to our countrymen.
If any of you feel drawn towards it personally, and think
it hot improbable that in this very field God will call you to
work for Him, I would remind you, as I would remind all,
that its qualifications, exalted as they are, are still precisely
the qualifications for which every Christian ought to pray,
most of all those who are conscious of the desire to serve
the Lord Jesus Christ with all their mind, and all their
heart, and all their soul, and all their strength. Surely I
cannot be mistaken in taking for granted that there are
many many hearts in this place from which to-day has
risen to God the humble prayer of conscious weakness,
"Who is sufficient for these things?" I have promised to
renounce all my old temptations. I, whom many here have
known to be ungodly, have promised in their presence to
be a Christian. I, whose heart and whose lips have often
been the home and the door of uncleanness, have to keep
my tongue from evil, and my lips that they speak no guile.
I, who have so often been ashamed of Christ, and have
grieved Him by my carelessness and selfish indulgence, have
promised now to fight in His cause, to count His enemies
and His friends mine ; and I have taken this day that sacra
ment, that oath of allegiance, which binds me to be true to
Him in life and till death. " And who is sufficient for these
things ?" He only who, taught by his own experience, has
felt the urgent need implied in the question, will be able to
lay hold on those gracious promises of which Scripture is so
full ; those promises that are the stay of the weak, and the
very daily bread of life of the overburdened and solitary
missionary : " Our sufficiency is of God." 1 " My strength
is made perfect in weakness." 2 " Certainly, I will be with
thee." 3 " The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath
are the everlasting arms." i " Be strong, and of a good
courage."5 "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give
1 2'Cor. iii. 5. 2 2 Cor. xii. 9. * Ex. iii. 12.
4 Deut. xxxiii. 27. s Deut. xxxi. 6, 23. Josh. i. 6.

88 THE MISSIONARY. .
thee a crown of life." 1 " When the poor and needy seek
water, and there is none, and their tongue faileth for thirst,
I the Lord will hear them, I the God of Israel will not
forsake them."2 "They that be wise shall shine as the
brightness of the firmament ; and they that turn many to
righteousness as the stars for ever and ever."3
1 Rev. ii. 10. 2 Isa. xii. 17. 3 Dan. xii. 3.

April 2, 1865.

SERMON XI.
JOHN THE BAPTIST.
Psalm cxvi. 13.
" Right dear in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints."
We commemorated yesterday the life arid death of a man
over whose grave these pathetic words may be most appro
priately pronounced. If there are some Saints' Days which
remind us of a name but little known and a character but
faintly realized, it is not so with the day which records the
heroic name of John the Baptist. He is one of the great
characters of history ; great in the sight of the Lord, great
as a stirrer of human souls, great even if tried by that
worldly standard which, while it rejects the inspiration of
the Prophet, honours strong wills and intense convictions.
He stands at the head of that small class of men who are
disliked and persecuted in their lifetime, and canonized
after their death ; the men who have a burning zeal for God?
who mourn over the ungodliness of the world, and are sure
that God has commanded them to attack it; the men who-
utter unwelcome truths, who are impatient of all appearances
that will not bear testing ; in short, the men who, in the
words of our Collect, alike in their public and private re
lations, " constantly speak the truth, boldly rebuke vice,"
and are ready, some of them proudly and defiantly, others
— the yet nobler soldiers in the " noble army " — humbly and
"patiently," to "suffer for the truth's sake."

90 JOHN THE BAPTIST.
I shall endeavour this evening to put in as plain a form
as I can some of the most obvious lessons contained in the
life of this great Reformer and Prophet. Like all other
great teachers, he teaches us both by his life and by his
doctrine. He came to perform a certain work, to utter
and enforce certain truths. But the man was greater even
than his great work. I believe that you can all more or
less understand the one, but I am sure that you might all
love and reverence the other.
We will first speak, and that briefly, of St. John's
teaching. He struck two notes, but he struck them
powerfully, again and again. He said, " You must reperit
and be honest." He said also, " You must prepare for
the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world."
It has been said that " the spirit of Elijah must always
precede the Spirit of Christ." 1 I doubt whether you can all
understand this. Try to look at the matter in this light.
The first step in all religion is a turning of the heart to
God, and the next is a clearing away of the obstacles
which have estranged it from Him. These obstacles vary
of course with different natures ; but among the most for
midable are spiritual apathy, what is called blindness and
hardness of heart, a disposition to use God's name without
caring to become like God's nature ; above all, a spirit of
self-righteousness which is satisfied with its present attain
ments, and has ceased to believe in the reality of anything '
higher and purer.
Now it is against obstacles such as these that the spirit
of Elijah, which is the spirit of John the Baptist, wages
its peculiar war. " Repent ye," is his message to all.
Search your hearts ; you will see that they are far from
God, and that they must be changed. Be honest with
yourselves ; strip off all disguises. Do not pride yourselves
on high position or religious advantages — on anything, in
short, which is not heart deep. " Think not to say within
yourselves, We have Abraham to our father." " Think
1 Dr. Arnold.

JOHN THE BAPTIST. 91
not," he might say to us, " to say within yourselves, We
are children of Christian parents ; we pray, and read the
Bible, and receive the Holy Communion ; we hate gross vice ;
we should be eager at any time to contend for the main
tenance of our Church, or the correctness of our religious
opinions." " This," he would say, " is not enough, for it is
not heart deep. It is all consistent with a proud, self-
satisfied heart, and . with a thoroughly selfish earthly life.
' Bring forth fruits meet for repentance.' Let your heart
show that it has turned to God, by prompting the faithful
discharge of those common duties of life which religious
persons too often represent as of only secondary import.
If you ask me, 'What shall we do then?' I answer to
each class, and each individual, Pull down your own most
cherished idol, guard against your own besetting sin. Once
I said to the grasping Jewish tax-gatherer, Exact no more
than that which is appointed you ; x and to the rough, un
scrupulous Roman soldier, Do violence to no man, neither
accuse any falsely ; and be content with your wages. Now
I say to you, Do the irksome duty, forego the tempting'
evasion, control the defiant temper, confess the lurking
misdeed." And all this, remember, is but preliminary to the real
service of Christ ; but then it is an essential preliminary.
If it were all, the Christian ideal would be but a poor one ;
but on the other hand, Christian faith will be but a delusive
emotion, an unreal pretender after a fictitious holiness,
unless it be built upon the homely foundation of a heart
convinced of sin, and the discharge of simple duties as the
" fruits of repentance." It is only in ears thus purged and
prepared that there is any meaning in the Baptist's avowal,
" I am not the Christ.2 I baptize with water ; He shall
baptize with the Holy Ghost and with fire.3 He must in
crease, but I must decrease.4 Behold the Lamb of God,
which taketh away the sin of the world." 5
This is a very brief, but I trust not altogether an un-
1 Luke iii. 13, 14. 2 John i. 20. 3 Luke iii. 16.
4 John iii. 30. 6 John i. 29.

92 JOHN THE BAPTIST.
fruitful sketch of the substance of the teaching of John
the Baptist. Not the highest and fullest teaching ; not the
"Be ye perfect, as your Father which is in heaven is perfect;"1
much less " This is the work of God, that ye believe on
Him whom He hath sent;"2 " This is- life eternal, that they
might know Thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ,
whom Thou hast sent;"3 but still teaching eminently
truthful, searching, indispensable; enforcing, as essential
to all heights of holiness, " the preparation of a clean heart
and a right mind."
And now let us dwell reverently on the character of the
instrument by whom God was pleased to prepare the way
for His Son. His history, judged merely by the world's
judgment, is one of the saddest ; one long decline, one
gradual waning of what was at its origin " a burning and
a shining light ; " a personal influence once immense,
gradually superseded ; a voice that once thrilled every
heart ceasing apparently to stir, and at last silenced in"
a dungeon ; a courage and hatred of evil so burning as
to confront a guilty king ending in apparent failure, and
leading to an ignoble martyrdom at the word of a frivolous
woman. God's ways are not as our ways, nor His discipline
as our discipline. This is one of the thoughts forced upon
us as we think over the life and death of the Baptist. An
ill-used, vanquished, rejected man — it requires the instinct
of faith to assure us that " Right dear in the eyes of the
Lord is the death of His saints."
, Observe, first, the circumstances of John's birth, and the
"prophecies which went before." upon him : " He shall be
great in the sight of the Lord ; he shall be filled with the
Holy Ghost, even from his mother's womb ; many of the
children of Israel shall he turn to the Lord their God. Thou,
Child, shalt be called the prophet of the Highest ; to give
light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of
death, to guide our feet into the way of peace." 4
1 Matt v. 48. 2 John vi. 29.
3 John xvii. 3. * Luke i. 15, 16, 76, 79.

JOHN THE BAPTIST. 93
John grew up, conscious of his high mission. In solitude
and in privation he prepared himself for it. From thence
he marked the worldliness, the luxury, the moral corruption
of his countrymen, the hollowness of their religion, the
formality of their observances. At length, when the time
was come, his voice burst upon their startled ears, and, with
a fervour and plainness contrasting strangely with their
spiritual lethargy, called upon them to repent.
At first his success was wonderful. Not the poor only
and the uneducated came flocking to his baptism, but the
Pharisee also and the Sadducee — the man who prided
himself on his spotless orthodoxy, the man who prided
himself on his enlightened liberalism. All alike, so we
may believe, felt the relief >of coming into the presence of
a genuine man who believed in a living God ; who did not
repeat phrases learnt from others, but spoke straight, with
the consciousness of authority, to the consciences of his
fellows. Of all successes with which human life is endangered
this kind of success is the most intoxicating ; this keeping
of the consciences of others ; this power of handling the
spiritual springs of human life. Very rare it is to find a
man exercising this power for long, and exercising it all for
God. Too soon, in the great majority of cases, the inspired
man forgets his Inspirer, and fancies that in his own genius
and gift of sympathy lies the secret of his influence. Soon
pride and self-will begin to appear, till even unfair means
are resorted to in order to prop up an appearance of
superiority which he who has tasted it finds too sweet to
resign. But in reading of the early days of John the Baptist we
are struck with his perfect simplicity of aim, and his clear
conviction that he was but a temporary instrument destined
shortly to be superseded. At the very height of his success
he pointed his admirers to the greater One whose way he
was preparing, content to become insignificant if only his
work could be accomplished. And so, later on, when his
own great popularity began to decline, and his attached

94 JOHN THE BAPTIST.
followers, jealous apparently for their Master's fame, came
and said to him, "Rabbi, He to whom thou barest witness,
the same baptizeth, and all men come to Him," we find the
old spirit of perfect self-denial : " Ye yourselves," he re
plied, " bear me witness, that I said, I am not the Christ.
He that hath the bride is the bridegroom: but the friend
of the bridegroom, which standeth and heareth him, re:
joiceth greatly because of the bridegroom's voice : this
my joy therefore is fulfilled. He must increase, but I must
decrease." x
Noble and touching avowal ! Which of us can attain to
its spirit ? To be content not merely to be insignificant,
but to sink into insignificance after having been prominent ;
calmly to put by the cup when it is most intoxicating;
calmly to say, " I am less than you thought me ; my
success begins where it seems to you to end ; I am no
longer needed ; my happiness consists in losing myself in
the greatness of another " — who of us, I say, has attained
to this glorious unselfishness? When we think of our
favourite schemes and . projects, bur darling hopes, our
anxious expectations, how they all seem to revolve round
one centre, self; how ill would they bear the heroic super
scription, " He must increase, but I must decrease. I have
aided another to eclipse myself. This my joy therefore is
fulfilled." Such, then, was the grand humility of John ; the humility,
remember, not of a weak nature, made to lean for support
on , others, but of one of those stern commanding natures
in whom men recognise a leader of souls.
But if we read Scripture rightly, John was to be tried
yet more signally. The loss of influence would have been
a trial to most men ; but how, if his whole life had been
a mistake, and He whom he had pointed to as the Lamb'
of God was after all less than he had hoped and believed ?
John was to be tried by inward doubts ; 1 the more harassing
1 John iii. 29, 30.

JOHN THE BAPTIST. - 95
in proportion to the intensity of his previous faith. But
first he was to be taken from his active life. The bold
word of rebuke to Herod cost him his freedom. From
that moment the liberty of the desert was to be exchanged
for the gloom and helplessness of the dungeon. No scope
remained for his ardent energies. The object of his life
seemed to be gone.
And then the cause of this change, how significant it
seemed ; not of the progress of God's kingdom, for which
he had so nobly striven, but of the triumph of evil ! He
had " loved righteousness and hated iniquity," and therefore
he was now the helpless prisoner of a tyrannical and
profligate king. What wonder if his faith in the truth of
his mission was for a time " clouded with a doubt ? " There
is, perhaps, no more touching passage in Scripture than
that which gives us a glimpse into the prison thoughts of
this true-hearted servant of God.
"When John had heard in the prison the works of Christ, he
sent two of his disciples, and said unto Him, ' Art Thou He
that should come, or do we look for another ? ' Art Thou
indeed the desire of all nations; He who was to bring in
all righteousness ; He who was to redress all human wrongs ;
to ju'dge the poor with righteousness, and with the breath of
His mouth to slay the wicked ; to proclaim liberty to the
captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are
bound ? Art Thou He, or is it all a dream ? And has my
life-long struggle with wrong, and my proclamation of Thy
triumphant advent, been a delusion and a mockery ? ' Art
Thou He that should come, or do we look for another?'"
" Right dear in the sight of the Lord " are the sorrows " of
His saints." There was but one answer that could satisfy
the doubts of John, and it was not denied. He needed facts,
not words, to support him. He needed to be assured that
good was still prevailing, not yet utterly down-trodden.
And therefore the great Physician of souls sent this balm
1 On this most interesting passage of Scripture, Matt. xi. 2-6, see the
powerful sermon of F. W. Robertson, Third Series, Sermon xxi.

96 JOHN THE BAPTIST.
to His suffering servant : " ' Go and show John again those
things which ye do hear and see : the blind receive their
sight, and the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the
deaf hear, the dead are raised up, and the poor have the
gospel preached to them. And blessed is he, whosoever
shall not be offended in Me' — he who in spite of all dis
couragements, all hours of inward darkness, all smarting
sense of undeserved wrong, all appearances of triumphant
tyranny, can still preserve his faith in Me, and be willing
to abide My time."
We are not told whether this gracious message brought
peace to the prisoner : but who can doubt that it did ; that
it peopled his solitude with visions of glory, and made him
strong to suffer when the fatal moment came ? Of that we
need not speak. When the wretched king, in the pride of
his perjured conscientiousness, sent an executioner, and
beheaded John in the prison, we feel that the death was
worthy the greatest of the Prophets. Elijah was caught up
to heaven' in the chariot and horses of fire ; but for him
who, " in the spirit and power of Elias,"1 came to prepare the
way for a crucified Messiah, it was meet that his life should
be lowly and his death despised. He died like any common
victim of vulgar tyranny, and his head was exhibited to a
party of jeering revellers by a miserable court favourite.
Painters2 have taught us to see in the picture a spiritual
truth ; to contrast the pale, stern, calm repose of that
noble head with the half exultant, half vindictive, and
yet self-reproachful expression of the frivolous girl. And
doubtless it is a true parable of the undying conflict of
meanness and heroism, and the seeming triumph of all
the corruption of humanity over that sacred band " of
whom the world" is "not worthy." But our thoughts
are with the Martyr. He had his reward. His work
was owned by his Master. " The baptism of John,"
He asked, "whence was it? from heaven, or of men?"
1 Luke i. 17.
2 See, for example, Luini's picture in the Salon Carre of the Louvre.

JOHN THE BAPTIST. 97
"John came unto you in the way of righteousness, and
ye believed him not."1
That was an approval worth living for — worth dying for.
" Right dear in the sight of the Lord is the death of His
saints." 1 Matt. xxi. 25, 32.
June 25, 1865.

SERMON XII.

WRESTLING WITH GOD.
Gen. xxxii. 26.
" And he said, I will not let Thee go, except Thou bless me."
The First Lesson appointed for St. Michael's Day contains
a very mysterious passage of Scripture, the wrestling of
Jacob with the Angel. " Jacob," we read, "was left alone ; and
there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day."
The passage seems to admit of more interpretations than
one. It may have been an actual wrestling in the body
with an actual man ; or it may have been a vision, like
that earlier vision at Bethel, where " he lay down to sleep
and dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and
the top of it reached to heaven : and behold the angels of
God ascending and descending on it."1
Howevter this may be, certain great truths seem to shine
out from the darkness. Jacob passed through a great crisis
in his life. His soul was wrung by a conflict intense and
most painful. He felt the near presence of God. He longed
to be assured of it with craving eagerness j and at last, when
the struggle had reached its highest point, his prayer , had,
" power with God," and he " prevailed."
I shall endeavour this evening to press home the teaching
of this lesson. Some of you will see already the applica
tion which will be made of it, but first let us say a few
1 Gen. xxviii. n, 12.

WRESTLING WITH GOD. 99
words as to the circumstances under which the incident
happened. They will be found to be most significant.
I have said that Jacob was passing through a crisis of his
life. You will remember that he was just returning from his
long sojourn with his uncle Laban. He had left home many
years before, poor and feeble ; now he was returning rich and
powerful, full of thankfulness for his prosperity. It seemed
to him a pledge of God's continued favour, and that all
God's promises concerning himself and his posterity would
be unfailingly fulfilled. But there was one dark point in this
otherwise bright picture. He was conscious of having
grievously wronged his brother ; and now he had to meet
that brother once more, and he was not a man, it might
well seem, to forgive an injury.
If we interpret rightly the mind of Jacob at this moment,
the uppermost feeling would not have been a mere craven
fear. Fear there undoubtedly was, but it was fear mingled
with other searchings of heart. No earnest man ever scaled
any spiritual height without being burthened and saddened
by the thought, " Remember not the sins and offences of my
youth." One of the holiest of living ministers of Christ,
diving into the saddest moments of his brethren of the
ministry, has described them as at times "worn and tired
with that more fearful war within, when the heart dies down
brooding o'er remembered sin."1 Which of us, man or
boy, has never felt Such moments — moments when the past
seems so unspeakably mean and empty and ungrateful, and
we hardly dare to look forward, so depressing and terrifying
are the denunciations of conscience? If the "just and
faithful knight of God" could say,
" My strength is as the strength of ten,
Because my hands are pure,"
so, on the other hand, to us it happens again and again that
our most vigorous resolutions are palsied, and our most
earnest -enterprises crippled, if not prevented altogether, by
the consciousness that our hands are not pure ; that some
1 See " Christian Year," Hymn on the Ordination Service.
H 2

WRESTLING WITH GOD.

weakness, some insincerity, some sin, perhaps months or
years before, has "taken such hold upon" us that we are
"not able to look up."
Now apply this to the Patriarch. What a memory for a
man to carry about with him, that of having, by lying and
treachery, cheated his aged father, and his generous, if too
reckless, brother ! what a memory, I say, for a man who
believed himself the holder of God's choicest promises; a
man who believed that a divine work lay before him ; a man
who was on the very eve of being declared an Israel, a
" Prince of God."
Now his sin had found him out. The brother whom he
had so cruelly wronged would know nothing of his inward
life, of his vision at Bethel, of his yearnings after good
during the long interval that had separated them. Esau would
see in him only the hypocrite and the unnatural brother,
who had taken advantage of his exhaustion to steal a birth
right, and of his absence and his father's blindness to steal
a blessing. What wonder if, with such memories pressing like lead
upon him — the picture of past meanness thrusting itself into
hideous contrast with all his present professions and aspira
tions, with the consciousness, too, that others whom he loved ¦
and who depended upon him would be involved in the
punishment impending over himself— the mind of the man
misgave him, and the thought occurred whether, indeed,
God's promises could be fulfilled in favour of such an one as
he ? Is not this the undertone of sadness which we discern
in the urgent prayer ? — <" O God of my father Abraham, and
God of my father Isaac, the Lord which saidst unto me,
Return unto thy country and to thy kjndred, and I will deal
well with thee': I am not worthy of the least of all the
mercies, and of all the truth which Thou hast showed unto
Thy servant ; for with my staff I passed over this Jordan ;
and now I am become two bands. Deliver me, I pray thee,
from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau : for I
fear him, lest he will come and smite me, and the mother
with the children, And Thou saidst, I will surely do thee

WRESTLING WITH GOD.

good, and make thy seed as the sand of the sea, which
cannot be numbered for multitude?"
What follows ? After he has taken all his measures for
appeasing his brother, and nothing more can be done,
the night draws on ; and " Jacob was left alone, and there
wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day."
That struggle was "written for our learning." It was the
counterpart of many a struggle since. It has passed into
the very language of religion. Earnest prayer has come to
be called a " wrestling with God." This is the expression;
but what is the reality ?
I know no better test of the genuineness, and the vigour
_ of our own devotion, than to ask ourselves, " Can these
words be possibly used of me?" Obviously they cannot be
used of any who are altogether careless about their souls,
and making no profession to be children of God. To them
such a passage of Scripture must remain a vague mystery,
and nothing more ; a strange Hebrew legend, utterly without
any meaning for the souls of such as ourselves.
But I speak to those of you who are in earnest. I be
lieve there are many such. And I ask you, Is there anything
in your spiritual life which can be called a " wrestling with
God"? A struggle sometimes painful, always exhausting?
A putting forth of the whole powers of the soul, as a wrestler
strains every sinew of his body ? A determination not to
be foiled, to rise if you fall, to win a victory in some way ; in
short, in the words of our text, to say to Him with whom
we struggle, " I will not let Thee go, except Thou bless me ?"
Some of you pray for help against some besetting weakness.
You would be thankful to be well rid of it. But are these
prayers struggles ? Are they not often almost mechanically
repeated words, or, at best, a devout hope ? Can they be
called " wrestling with God " ?
' Again, others among us are anxious for some great spiritual
blessing to be poured out on our whole body here, the up
rooting of some corrupt tradition, the influx of a simpler,
nobler life. We are in earnest. We are unselfish. We really
wish for it ; and we wish for it not for ourselves, but for others.

WRESTLING WITH GOD.

But, let us test our wish by the strong language of the text.
Does it cost us much pain, much sense of weakness — in a
word, much effort ? Are we resolute not to accept a repulse ?
Are we willing to stake everything upon victory ? If not, I
do not say we are very wicked, or worse than others, but I
say we cannot expect to obtain what we ask for. God has
annexed this condition to His highest spiritual blessings, that
they must be struggled for. "The violent take them by
force,"1 and no others. And lest the credit of any victory
should fall to His creature, and be taken from Himself, He
generally delays to grant it till His suppliant is well-nigh
despairing, and has confessed his own utter inability to
proceed. Oh, -if I address any heart here to-night which only half
believes in the power of prayer, and mourns over the
failures which in spite of habitual prayer from early childr
hood still clog its path and impoverish its resources, I
would say, Take this passage of Holy Scripture to your
comfort. It is so strong, that had we not found it there,
we should not have dared to use it. Wrestle with your
God. Though you fall, rise again. If one mode of conflict
fails, try another; but insist upon victory. God wills it.
There is the secret of all. He desires that His blessings
should be wrenched from Him by force — He, who is ever
" more ready to hear than we to pray." He has made our
spirits. He sees them through and through. He knows
that their weakness is their strength. The value of the
.victory in their spiritual warfare is measured by the intensity,
nay, the agony of the effort.
Do you ask for illustrations of what we mean by " wrestling
with God in prayer" ? I will give two or three.
When David, yearning for the life oi his son, fasted
and wept and besought God for the child, his spirit wrestled
with God ; and the prize of victory was, not the life of the
child, but the serene thankfulness which passed upon him
when they told him that the child was dead.2
Again, when in the garden of Gethsemane the Saviour
1 Matt. xi. 12. 2 2 Sam. xii. 16 — 23.

WRESTLING WITH GOD. 103
of the world prayed again and again that if it were possible
the cup might pass from Him, then indeed He wrestled
with God. He would not depart without being heard and
blessed ; and so, as to the Patriarch of old, when His human
strength was at its weakest, " there appeared an angel unto
Him from heaven strengthening Him."1
After such an instance all others seem almost irreverent :
yet lest these should seem too far above us to be within the
scope of our imitation, let me pass to modern life, and see .
whether in these days we do not find in God's truest ser
vants a conviction that in their deepest needs they must
wrestle with Him for the mastery.
In one of the noblest of modern fictions, we read of one
who was betrayed and slighted where most she had a right
to look for love-^-by the husband whom she had worshipped.
The iron entered into her soul. Her spirits sank and died.
" None saw, none knew ; there was no sympathy, no re
demption, no redress." She watched her daughter's growth,
but from a distance. She would not make herself known.
She feared to find in the daughter the same hollow mask of
affection she had found in the husband. But at last she
was called to watch what seemed to be that daughter's dying
bed. There she told her all ; who she was, how she had
suffered, how she had tried to keep the word of God's
patience, how He had kept her in the days of her anguish.
And now the one thing that bound her to life was the life of
her child, and that seemed to be ebbing fast. No ; she
tnust recover. The cup of bitterness must not overflow.
"As to the mother," we read, "she spent the night like
Jacob at Peniel. Till break of day she wrestled with God
in earnest prayer."2
Once more, let us take a very different illustration, not
from a father's or a mother's love, but from the yearnings of
a soul to know its God. England has had many true Chris-
1 Luke xxii. 43.
2 " Shirley,"- by Charlotte Bronte, chapter xxiv., entitled "The
Valley of the Shadow of Death." See also chapter xviii. of Mrs.
Gaskell's " Life of Charlotte Bronte."

104 WRESTLING WITH GOD.
tian poets. One of them has bequeathed to us a magni
ficent Hymn,1 based entirely upon this mysterious passage of
Scripture. He represents his own soul as in the presence of
Christ, in actual contact with Him, but as yet only dimly
discerning His name and His character. But he cannot
rest in ignorance. He is resolved to know. He will not
be repulsed. Who is this mighty Being that stands so nigh,
yet hides His face ?
" In vain Thou strugglest to get free,
I never will unloose my hold ;
Art Thou the Man that died for me ?
The secret of Thy love unfold.
Wrestling,, I will not let Thee go,
Till I Thy name, Thy nature know."
Ah, my brethren, does not such a cry as this reveal to
us almost an unknown land in the spiritual world ? This
yearning to know the Saviour, to see Him face to face with
the eyes of a purified soul ; this determination to rest short
of nothing but a personal access, a personal grasp; this
inability to acquiesce in a hearsay tradition of His person
and His character; this almost impatient resolution to have
the witness in ourselves, and to know what His mind towards
us is — " Speak, or Thou never hence shalt move,
And tell me, if Thy name is Love — "
Oh, is not this something beyond our religion in these
days — something which we admire, which we expect to find
in reading the lives of the saints of God, but which we
scarcely dream of even wishing to appropriate ? Yet this is
the spring of all vital religion. In vain we admire the
character of the man Jesus; in vain we appreciate the
grandeur of a world-wide Christianity replacing gradually
injustice and inhumanity by a more scrupulous observance
of His precepts; in vain we adopt for our own use the
means of grace which He has given us in His Church, the
1 The Hymn of Charles Wesley, beginning " Come, O thou Traveller
unknown."

WRESTLING WITH GOD. 105
privilege of worshipping Him in His sanctuary, and of
kneeling — kneeling together — before His table, unless our
whole souls long after that personal contact, that individual
appropriation, which springs from a sense of what He has
done, for us, His boundless patience, His inexhaustible love.
Happy he who can indeed say, not from the teaching of
others, not' because it is part of his ancestral creed, but
because he has been taught by that inward experience
which is the teaching of God Himself,
" I know thee, Saviour, who Thou art !
Jesus, the feeble sinner's Friend,
Nor wilt Thou with the night depart,
But stay, and love me to the end.
Thy mercies never shall remove,
Thy nature, and Thy name, is love. "
Remember, then, this is not the language that can be
used by all. The blessing of which it speaks comes only
to those who have "wrestled with God," and that not once
or twice, but again and again :
" Wrestling on till life is ended,
Following not the sinful throng. "
Ah ! how much of what is best in us will not bear that
test — our diligence, our truthfulness, our honesty, nay, our
very " zeal for the Lord."
My brethren, we would urge you to aim very high, .and
to be content with no common victories. Bring all your
difficulties before God. Come to Him intending to have
them solved, not, indeed, in your time or in your way,
but in His., Ask Him to give you holiness and a love of.
fhe Saviour. If you dp, they will come at last — at last — not
without many humiliations, perhaps many slips backward,
but at last. " I will not let Thee go, except Thou bless me."
There breathes the very spirit of prayer; and all that the
Christian adds to it are the words of his Master, " Never
theless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt."
October I, 1S65.!

SERMON XIII.
WEAKNESS.
Ephesiaks vi. io.
' ' My brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of His might."
We may be forgiven for returning again and again to the
subject which is brought before us in these well-known
words — the grandeur of Christian strength, and the danger
of weakness.
When I assert my belief that nine-tenths of the moral
evils with which we have to contend here are due rather to
weakness than to anything like a wilful preference of what is
bad, I feel sure that your consciences and your experience
will go along with me.
How often does it happen that we see some one gradually
slipping back from the path of duty on which he has for
some time contrived to maintain a footing. " Slipping
back," or in scriptural language " back-sliding," is just the
figure which best expresses the change. It is not a de
liberate turning round, not a strong-handed resolution to
have done with the effort to follow after duty,, but it is a
gradual relapse, an almost unconscious relaxation of the
nerves of the soul, an ignominious "drifting" into a terrible ,
war which a little timely determination might have forestalled.
And when at last there is some painful exposure, and folly
has ripened into sin, then what a surprise follows. The
offender is surprised at having sunk so low. His friends are

. WEAKNESS. 107

surprised at conduct so unlike all that they have ever noticed.
The cause is sought for, and is not far to seek. An unerring
instinct pronounces that it was weakness. He meant well.
He promised well. He was not a hypocrite. He tried for
a time ; but he was not strong enough, and he failed.
Now, my brethren, the question is, How ought we to
look upon this moral weakness by which we probably all of
us feel, some of us very acutely, that we are sore beset ? Is
it venial, or is it wrong ? Is it an excuse, or is it a sin ?
Some persons start with a very disparaging view of human
nature. It is a poor thing at best. Man is but a puppet,
tossed about with every breath of circumstance. Of course
he goes wrong; but we must be tolerant. We must
sympathise with his infirmities. We must expect little.
Every man has his price, if only it can be found. We must
not be hard on those who are but human; who are no
heroes, and never pretend to be such.
Persons who write or talk in this way often get credit for
a charitable view of their fellow-creatures. Individual
foibles are cloaked under the widespread veil of a universal
'infirmity. Sin is tacitly pronounced to be a word inapplic
able to poor human nature. It is either too high for it or
too low. All errors are accounted for by the theory of
weakness. Need I remind you that this is not the language of the
Bible, still less of the Spirit of Christ ?
To the Christian, human nature is not a poor, but an
infinitely grand thing; something from which not a little,
but everything may be expected ; something which was made
in the image of God, was assumed and glorified by God's
own Son, has been the tabernacle of untold heroisms and
saintly sufferings, and shall in the end be "renewed in
knowledge " and majesty " after the image of Him that
created"1 it. So grand a thing as this can never find
safety in weakness, It is a poor toleration which first
disparages the dignity, and then palliates the shortcoming.
No; if weakness leads to wrong-doing, it is wrong to be
1 Col. iii. 10.

108 WEAKNESS.
weak. And in the language of the Gospel, all wrong-doing
is a sin against God.
But now let us think a little how it is that weakness
generally arises, and what are some of the chief ways in
which it works among us. If it can be shown that some of
its causes are remediable, so far justification will be cut
away. If a commander were to surrender a fortress with
which he had been entrusted, it would be a poor excuse to
say that the artillery and means of subsistence were insuffi
cient, unless he could also show that in the interval of
safety, before he was beleaguered, he had done his utmost
to provide these necessities.
I say, then, that what is called weakness can very often be
traced to want of foresight. It is weakness to follow a bad
example. Yes ; but might not the crisis to which the
weakness is found unequal have been altogether prevented
by a little obvious foresight? Example becomes powerful
when he who exercises it has contrived to gain a certain
hold over us. Such a hold here is often gained by the
vanity which leads a boy to attach himself to some one else
who is daring ' and influential. He likes to be seen with
him, to be spoken to by him, to be talked of as one of his
set. Of course he does not actually know that the other
will lead him into any directly wrong course ; nor can he be
quite sure that, when the temptation finally comes, the ties
w#h which the other has entangled him will be so strong as
to be practically insuperable. He does not know that if at
the last moment he breaks off, and refuses to follow, he will
be thought shabby and cowardly, and that the consciousness
that this will be thought will then be too much for all
lingering scruples. But he ought to have been distrustful of
himself when first he surrendered himself to the ascendancy
of the other. If a boy feels another's ascendancy, that is a
sign to him that he is weaker. If he feels flattered by being
spoken to, that is a sign of weakness. If he is longing
to be taken up and recognized by some influential knot
of companions, that is proof positive to him that he is
weaker than they. If he were not weak, he would be

WEAKNESS. 109

content to be what he is, and leave it to time to draw others
around him.
Therefore one who feels himself to be thus weak should
count well beforehand the probable cost of his new intimacy.
If he is honest with himself, it is not very hard for him to
measure with tolerable accuracy the character of the com
panion whose patronage he wishes to secure. Is he a
Christian boy? Is he manly and straightforward? Does
he show a manly regard for discipline ? Is his language
scrupulously pure, and free from all taint of profanity or
irreverence ? Is he habitually kind to those weaker than
himself? In short, has he any of the qualities which really
deserve admiration, and alone give a boy or a man any
right to lead his fellows ?
If not, if he is simply strong and skilful and popular —
though perhaps all the while vulgar and cowardly at heart-—
then let those who feel an attraction towards him exercise
a little foresight. Let them ask whether this influence which
they court will make them better Christians or the reverse.
Unless they do this, they have no right, when the influence
has at last led them into evil, to shelter themselves under
the plea of weakness. It is' weakness no doubt, but it is a
weakness which gave abundant warning of its presence. It
might have been foreseen, and it might have been guarded
against. ¦
And then, again, there is that weakness which arises from
unwillingness to face anything disagreeable. This character
has been recently powerfully sketched by a great writer ; and
there is no Christian, young or old, that may not learn from
the portrait.1
A young man naturally graceful and amiable, capable of
admiring beauty, not without something of a generous
ambition and love of knowledge, has one fatal defect which
is the source of all his future degradation. When a
disagreeable duty comes in his way, when an unpleasant
avowal has to be made, when a decided line has to be taken
1 I need scarcely say that I refer to the masterly character of Tito in
"Romola."

no . WEAKNESS:

militating in appearance against his immediate interest, he
will not face it. He turns from it by an instinct which soon
ripens into a habit — turns from it, not coarsely and defiantly,
but with a certain graceful fastidiousness, as though he had
half persuaded himself that to grapple with it earnestly,
perhaps in the mire of humiliation, would soil the white
surface of his serenity, and be an offence against -good
taste. He will not face duty, and duty has its revenge.
Gradually the leprosy of selfishness overspreads his whole"
nature. The idea of right vanishes. The idea of comfort,
self-pleasing, keeping out of difficulty becomes predominant.
The moral fibre, which ought to be rigid as granite, becomes
first soft and flexible, and then utterly rotten and worthless.
Rapidly the corruption breeds shameful vices. Deceit taints
and undermines the whole character. Goodness is no longer
valued except as a show. Every act which is not watched is
base. The more worthless self becomes, the more sacrifices
it exacts. Gratitude, generosity, fidelity, honour, affection,
patriotism — everything is at last thrown away, rather than do
what is for the moment disagreeable.
If I thought this were an exaggerated picture, I should not
refer to it here. But I am sure that it is constantly being
reproduced. It represents a danger which is essentially a
danger of the young, the rich, and the careless ; and I
know that a school like ours, considering the class of which
it is in the main composed, and the probability that few of
you will ever be subjected to the pressure and privation
Which have ever been the divine teachers of heroism — I am
sure that this place, if it does not teach love of duty, arid public
spirit, and willingness to sacrifice self, must be a very hot
bed of indolence, of softness, of moral relaxation, of just
those weaknesses by which manliness is sapped and the
spring of Christian greatness poisoned at its source.
But it is the fault of sermons that they say too much of
Weakness, and too little of strength ; too much, in short, of
man, and too little of God. If what has been said to-night
reminds any one of any defect which he has noticed in hvmL

WEAKNESS.

self or his companions; if he has found himself apologizing
for them or for his own errors : " I did not mean it, but I
was so weak ; " " He is not a bad boy ; a little time back
he was doing capitally, but" he is so weak anybody can lead
him "¦ — let such a one never rest here. The only use of
confessing weakness is to turn to the source of strength.
First make up your mind that weakness is a sin — perhaps
the chief sin with which you have to struggle on this earth
—and then listen with Christian pride to the magnificent
exhortation, " My brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in
the power of His might." You can be strong if you will,
but you must go to God for this strength.
I have listened ere now to sermons which appealed to
the noblest faculties in our nature, and sent away the
listener with a feeling of human pride, and the secret
thought, " Well, I will do some great thing for God." I have
•learned that the true lesson which ought to be learned from
the pulpit is one of intense humility ; the conviction which
assures us that all is possible for us, even the highest peaks
of saintliness, but that we cannot mount them by one foot
unless as we climb we " lift up " our " eyes " to those
heavenly "hills " from which alone " cometh " the "strength"
of man.1 The thought to be carried away from a sermon
on weakness is the thought, Let us " go into His tabernacle,
and fall low on our knees before His footstool.".2 There
as we kneel and confess and pray, not that we may be great,
but that He may be served, there will come the strength
by which battles are won, and by which churches are saved
from decay.
Prayer, if earnest and persisted in, will most surely bring
light. It will disclose to us sources of strength of which
we should not otherwise have thought. It will show us
those practical means of gaining strength which experience
proves to be owned and blessed of God. Two of these
alone I will briefly refer to.
i. The first is the precise opposite of that fatal habit of
which I was just now speaking. It is the habit of not
1 Ps. cxxi. i. ., . . . 2 Ps. cxxxi. 7.

112 WEAKNESS.
shrinking from what is disagreeable ; the habit of facing a
duty with alacrity, without delay, without dwelling urieasily
on all the unpleasant consequences which may follow,
without troubling ourselves as to what may be thought of us
— whether we shall lose influence or friends, whether our
acts will be admired or laughed at. No one is strong
enough to pass through all these weakening processes
without being enervated by them. When at last he strikes,
if he ever strikes at all, his blow will be less vigorous and
less well aimed.
There is a homely proverb which tells us to grasp the
nettle tightly, and it will not sting. The principle is that
which I am trying to enforce. If you can early form the
habit of doing at once and without hesitation what ought to
be done, you will soon come to do all duty easily ; that is
to say, you will have become strong — " strong in the Lord
and in the power of His might," strong in the strength for
which you prayed, and which you never can mistake for a
strength of your own.
2. And the second means of which I spoke is that of
acquainting yourselves with the lives of God's greatest and ,
holiest servants.
He who passes into manhood Without any knowledge of
the great men who have in their time been the salt of the '
earth, purifying it by self-sacrifice, enriching it with medi
tation, and ennobling it by daring, is losing not only one
of the purest of delights, but one of the most approved
sources of strength. " We live by admiration, hope, and
love."1 A boyhood not rich in admiration is a poor and an
unnatural boyhood. It is not likely to lead to lofty aims
hereafter. But summon to your aid that "great cloud of
witnesses " with which God has been pleased to " compass
us about ;" read of their faith and their patience ; observe
how gradual was their growth, how strong their temptations,
how immeasurable their inferiority to the Master whom
they followed, yet withal the lofty stature to which He
enabled them to attain ; notice the grand scale on which
1 Wordsworth.

WEAKNESS. 113

they thought and wrote and acted, and how in their
hands, and still more in their characters, the Gospel became
indeed "the power of God and the wisdom of God ;'?1 trace
up thankfully to their self-sacrifices and their hours of
darkness whatever of Gospel light, of sober freedom, of
manly earnestness, of devout aspiration has descended to
our times — and believe me you will find in such reading a
divinely appointed strength for your own souls. This is the
teaching of All Saints' Day — the day on which our Chapel
was consecrated. May we never be insensible to its exalted
teaching ! May we never fail to see in a holy life, a life
raised from self to heaven, the grandest of divine miracles,
the most unassailable evidence of faith !
Let us admire, and let us strive to follow in their spirit,
as they followed Christ. Show me any man or boy who can
endure isolation, who can put up with the coldness of friends
for duty's sake, who can dare to put down evil in others
at the very moment that he is painfully humiliated by the
consciousness of his own shortcomings, and I recognize in
such an one a member of that goodly fellowship, that exalted
brotherhood, who have in all ages been in communion with
Christ — those " of whom the world was not worthy," those
who "out of weakness were made strong."

1 1 Cor. i. 24.
November 5, 1865.

SERMON XIV.
ADVENT.
Romans xiii. 12.
' ' The night is far spent, the day is at hand."
This is the teaching of Advent. If we may distinguish its
function from that of other holy seasons, it is not so much
to humble our pride, or to tame our lusts, or to melt our
hearts, or to cheer our faith, or calmly to build us up in the
slow progress of holy living. It does not point to the
Saviour's Fasting and Temptation in the conflict with sin,
or to the Agony in the Garden, or to the triumphant Resur
rection, or to the promised Comforter who was to continue
His work in all faithful hearts. But its special office is to
rouse, to warn, to awaken. It makes war on apathy. It
says to the spiritual slumberer, " Now it is high time to
awake but of sleep."
And, my brethren, is not this just the warning that we
need ? We are all such creatures of routine. We seldom ask
ourselves whether our routine is the best, or whether some
nobler manner of life is possible for us. What we have
done we continue to do. We have our stereotyped forms
of working, of giving, of praying, of thinking of God and
of the wants and sorrows of others. Each of us has his own
standard on such matters. By that standard he ordinarily
acts. You can almost predict how he will act. And yet
how miserably poor is that standard in the main ! How
little will it bear a comparison with the mind of Christ,
with the practice of holy men in all ages, with even a super
ficial knowledge of the spirit of the Scriptures ! It is ours ;

ADVENT. 115

it has been ours for some years. Its existence gives it a
sort of right to live on.
We know most of us how on rare occasions this our
private standard of duty receives a severe shock. Some
thing happens to stir us — a death, a painful accident, a great
accession of happiness, the influence of a great character, a
visit to a hospital. We are startled. It strikes us that we
have been living blindly. Our knowledge of the world, on
which perhaps we prided ourselves, seems to us now as the
grossest ignorance. We had been acquiescing in customs
which we now see to be abuses. We had been hallowing
by the name of traditions and maxims habits which we now
see to have been the creatures of our own selfishness and
narrowness of heart.
Now I say that to awaken us out of this spiritual apathy-
is one of the great lessons of Advent. It says, Prepare for
the coming of Christ. You know in part what He requires
of you. You see the wonderful example He has set you by
coming in great humility. You know the helps He has
promised you. Will your present life bear His scrutinizing
eye ? Open to Him not your sins only, but your common
habits, the principles or no principles by which you rule
your life, or by which you live at random. Are these prin
ciples, I do not say defensible, or venial, or common,
but that high and holy thing which we call Christian? Is
there anything of sacrifice pervading them ? Anything of
largeness of sympathy ? Anything of setting the affections
on things above ? If not, they will not bear the scrutiny of
Advent. They are approved perhaps by the world and by
your own dull conscience, but they are condemned by Christ.
Your conscience, the noble part of your being, has been
slumbering. It is now high time to awake. " The night is
far spent, the day is at hand."
The words are true Advent words, and to the true servant
of Christ his Master's coming is always at hand. To him
the past is in one sense always a night. True, he finds in it
matter of deep thankfulness to God. He finds much heroic
and noble, surpassing, as he thinks, the standard of his own
1 2

Ii6 ADVENT.

times. He sees stronger wills, more burning faith, mOre
splendid self-sacrifice. But still he knows that it is a weak
sentiment which desires to return to the past. He knows
how dark it was compared with the full Gospel light which
Christ desires to shed over His redeemed earth. The
golden age is forwards, not backwards. Greater things will
yet be done in the name of Christ than have ever yet
been achieved. The " day" is still coming. The past, though
brilliant with illustrious stars, is still a "night" compared with
what is to be. A night, but a night which is passing — a
night ever " far spent," waiting for a glorious " day," ever
nigh at hand.
What great man, what illustrious saint of God, was ever
yet satisfied with his own age? It is the smaller minds
which, looking back upon the past, imagine that it was all
golden. Of its contemporaries all the noblest felt its de
ficiencies and mourned over them. It seemed to them dark
and corrupt. Nothing but the hope of Christ's Advent, of
a better time coming which should be far more interpene
trated by the light of Christ's Spirit, enabled them to
sustain their courage, and to attack the evils which lay
around them. To all such men the words of our text must
have been a pillar of fire. They rejoiced that they should
see the coming day. With the eye of strong faith they saw
it, and were glad.1 At each fresh failure to do the good they
sought, at each fresh apparent triumph of the powers of
darkness, still they would find comfort in the sure and
certain hope : " The night is far spent, the day is at hand.
The night is darkest before the dawn. We shall see it, but
not now. Not in our days will the times of refreshing
come. It will not be ours to behold what a wide-spread
faith in Christ can effect on the earth, with what a majesty
it will fight against evil when its soldiers are really united
and in earnest. But the triumph is only delayed. It will
surely come, it will not tarry. At the brightness of its pre
sence the clouds which envelope us will assuredly remove."
But perhaps we have dwelt too long on this general
1 See John viii. 56,

ADVENT. 117

application of the words. We have been thinking of " dark
ages " in history ; of periods of stagnation in the Church.
We have sought to enter into the thoughts of great re
formers ; men of whom their world was not worthy ; men
who fought with the evil of their generation, and in the
tempestuous midnight " wished for the day." 1
But has the text no voice for the young ? Can it be said
by them, " The night is far spent, the day is at hand " ?
It may be that the words can be used by them in their
very simplest sense. The night may be human life ; the
day may be the day which shall see the end of all the
changes and chances to which you are here exposed. In
this sense, possibly with the youngest, certainly with the
oldest, the night is indeed "far spent." The time of our
schemes, our amusement, our ambition, our friendships, our
many sins, our strange perplexities, may be for some one or
more here on the very eve of merging into the day when the
secrets of all hearts are disclosed. If we knew that it were
so, still our lives ought to be what they are now. It would be
an argument, not for our quitting our present work, and seek
ing to breathe a holier atmosphere, but for continuing it with
all our might — working, playing, sympathizing with all the
forces of our nature, and feeling all the time that we were
treading on holy ground. If, I say, we knew that our night
was not only " far spent," but within a few hours of its close,
still, if we are true servants of Christ, the announcement
should cause us no hurry, no disquietude, no sudden change
of plan. If we feel that it would do this — that we should
suddenly be called from utter frivolity into the presence of
a crushing reality — then let us now set our house in order.
By such a confession we pass sentence on ourselves.
But with most of us probably it is only approximately
true that the night of human life is far spent. We count
on an earthly future. It rises before us as something real.
We almost grasp it, and the aspiration is not wrong. God
Himself inspires every noble longing to do Him service
before we go hence, and are no more seen.
1 Acts xxvii. 29.

118 ADVENT.
But there is another sense in which the youngest of us
will do well to believe that his night is "far spent." I
mean the night of past sins, or, if you will, past faults,
past defects, nay, past negligences and ignorances. There
may be some among us who could apply to themselves,
without feeling that it was exaggerated, even such strong
language as that of St. Peter : " The time past of our life
may suffice us to have wrought the will of the Gentiles,
when we, walked in lasciviousness, lusts, revellings, and
abominable idolatries." 1 But, admitting that such words are
more strictly applicable to those whose retrospect of self-
indulgence is far longer and gloomier than yours, let me ask
you whether the time past of your life, even of the youngest
life here, may not suffice you to have wrought many practices,
and thought many thoughts, which you know to be displeasing
to God, and unworthy of children of the day.
Think of the faults of your childhood — its ingratitude, its
frequent disobedience to your parents, its fits of stubborn,
wayward temper, its shufflings and prevarications, its
habitual selfishness, at all events, its mere impulsiveness
even in good, its necessary want of principle and of con
sistency. Is not this night " far spent " ? Ought it not
to be so?
Or think, again, of more serious sins. Think of the long
neglect or the hurried misuse of prayer. Think of the
impure thoughts, not struggled against, but welcomed and
harboured. Think of the ridicule of holy things, and how
you have made it harder for others to be obedient children
of God. Or, once more, think of the sloth, the want of
vigour and earnestness in anything, the doing nothing, the
apathetic folding of the hands to sleep, which, alike in
things intellectual and things spiritual, is the besetting sin
of so many.
Would that all such might rouse themselves at the sum
mons : " The night is far spent, the day is at hand." The
day is at hand, and you can contribute to its brightness.
God has something nobler for you to do for Him than
1 i Pet. iv. 3.

ADVENT. 119

anything you have yet dreamed of. He calls you to " cast
off the works of darkness," but He calls you also to "put
on the armour of light." He calls you to active seryice in
His cause.
Do not be discouraged by the memory of the past. As
we have said before, " Forget the things which are behind,"
the moment they stand in the way of buoyant hope and
vigorous enterprise. Believe that a day of better things
is at hand, and that you can in your measure hasten it.
How powerful for good ought such a faith to be ! If we
held it, it would stir us all to immediate energy.
The older among us would each ask themselves how in
his own special department of labour he could introduce
some element of freshness and life ; how he could save
himself and those around him from dull mechanical routine ;
how he could inspire loftier thoughts and nobler ambitions ;
how he could enlarge the range of intellectual tastes, and
throw fresh meaning and interest into what was old.
In the same way, my younger brethren, it would be your
anxious desire to purify and enrich our social life here.
You would throw into work more zest and more enthu
siasm. You would throw into games more chivalry and
unselfishness. You would be more outspoken and more
united in condemning evil. You would yield a more
ungrudging honour to graces and virtues which now pass
almost unrecognized.
"The night is far spent, the day is at hand." Are
we children of the night, or children of the day ; of present
mediocrity, or of future glory ? Are we satisfied with our
selves, with our progress in Christianity, with our influence
over others, with the public opinion which surrounds us?
If so, we are, in Scripture language, children of the night
Advent speaks to us in vain.
But if we feel that our past is most defective, and long
that those who come after us should avoid our errors, and
be far nobler than we ; if we feel that to every earnest
worker for Christ, whether young or old, there is this bless
ing most surely guaranteed, that, though he trips, or is cut

ADVENT.

short by death, the fruit of his efforts, even of his aspira
tions, will be reaped by others ; if we feel that wherever
true Christianity is, there is youth and freshness and inspira
tion, and an eager reaching forward to the "things which
are before," — then, in spite of all our shortcomings, we may
humbly trust that we are "children of the day." We are
working for the future. Much of our work — all that is for
show only, all that is not prompted by the spirit of humility,
and guided by the spirit of wisdom — will be destroyed and
forgotten, and we ought to rejoice that it will be so. The
self-seeking of man can never work the righteousness of God.
But still we are working on the right side, with our faces
looking in the right direction, rejoicing that the night is far
spent, and seeing, or believing that we see, already in the
eastern sky some gleams of the glory of the day which is
at hand.
Some of us know what it is to wait for the dawn on some
noble mountain. By degrees star after star disappears. The
loneliness is felt to be more lonely. The cold, the cheerless-
ness, become more intense. At last a faint streak of pink
light tinges the eastern snows, and we seem to have awaked
to a new life of beauty and wonder.
It is a true parable. If you would be " children of the
day," be content to work on in darkness and coldness. The
dawn may be nearer than you imagine. Sooner or later a
voice of God will assure you, "The darkness is past, and
the -true light now shineth." x
1 I John ii. 8.
December 3, 1865.

SERMON XV.
LIFE.
St. Luke xii. 15.
" A man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he
possesseth. "
How strangely our notions differ as to what " life " really
means ! How strange if we could keep some register of
the various notions which at different times and in different
moods we have ourselves entertained !
Some of you perhaps look on life as so much amusement.
It is the opposite of dulness. It means activity of body,
enjoyment of health and vigour and grace. You cannot
describe a dull, lifeless time more forcibly than by saying,
There is nothing to do.
Others take their idea of life from the enjoyment of social
sympathy. Peaceful homes, where " hearts are of each other
sure ;" the play of intellect with intellect, and spirit with
spirit, the charm of conversation which brings out the depths
of two characters ; the certainty of being understood and
defended by loyal friends, and the knowledge that we would
in any emergency stand by them come what might — thoughts
like these make up for many in youthful days much of the
beauty of what they call " life."
Then, again, there is the thought of work — of having full
scope for our energies somewhere, at some time; the somewhat
vague conviction that there is something great and noble to
be done in the world, and that " all that is within " us cries
out, " I too must be there among the workers, I too must
strike a blow for that noble cause or in defence of that great
man ;"' here too we get an idea of life — a stir of mind and

122 LIFE.
body, a rush of energy, a fulness of feeling, something fresh
and earnest and original, something which scorns to be a
spectator, and insists upon bearing a part.
It requires some effort to transport ourselves from such
modern notions of life to the scene which our text brings
before us. Jesus was surrounded by what is called "an
innumerable multitude, insomuch that they trode one upon
another." His words had a marvellous fascination for them.
He seemed to know by instinct just what they all felt. He
told them precisely what their inmost hearts cared to hear and
to know. One of them was smarting from a sense of injustice.
His brother refused to give him his fair share of a property:
So holy and just a man as Jesus might help him to get
his rights. So he applied to him : " Master, speak to my
brother, that he divide the inheritance with me."
Our Lord directed His answer not to the man's question
but to his heart. The claim of right was a thing for the
law to settle : the state of the questioner's heart was all that
the Saviour had to deal with. The man cared not so much
for justice as for money ; and therefore he needed the warning
which our Lord took the opportunity of impressing upon all:
" Take heed and beware of covetousness : for a man's life
consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he
possesseth." The audience were mostly poor men. Their notion of
life would be what the natural notion of poor men is in our
days. It would be good wages, a horne for their families,
plenty of occupation, something laid by against old age.
They would look upon the rich, not perhaps with envy, but
certainly with admiration, as having already attained the
goal from which they were all so distant. They must have
been startled surely by the calm words of One who was, like
themselves, a poor man, and yet so unquestionably superior
to all the small hopes and anxieties by which they were
troubled. He who was the carpenter's son, He who had
not where to lay His head, now calmly gave them the secret
of His contentment. He said, " A man's life consisteth not
in the abundance of the things which he possesseth."

LIFE. 123
Are the Words less startling to us, or have they long since
become a truism? Try to think how they speak to you.
Believe that you hear the words of your Saviour saying to
you, singly and together, " I tell you your life does not con
sist ,in the abundance of the things which you possess."
What are those things? How would they be described
by those who have cause to envy you ? Some are indeed
obvious. They would point to your wonderful comfort, to
the wealth and luxury of your homes, to your abundance of
health, your abundance of amusement, your abundance of
friends all anxious to help you on in life, here or hereafter.
There are of course exceptions. There may be some who
even now feel an affectionate pride in the knowledge that
their presence here implies some considerable sacrifice on
the part of their parents, and look forward to the day when
by their own energy and self-denial they may be able to
lighten burdens which they now contribute to increase.
There are these exceptions, perhaps not the least enviable
among us ; but in the main, affluence, abundance, comfort,
unlimited and almost humiliating command of all the things
which the world professes to prize — these things are yours,
and seem likely to continue yours through life.
It is an immense danger. Some years ago a great
preacher delivered a sermon which he termed " The Message
of the Church to Men of Wealth."1 Our task, not surely an
easier one, greater perhaps here than at any other school
in England with one exception, is to bring home the spirit
of the Gospel and the mind of our Saviour to boys cradled
in comfort, encouraged in self-indulgence, accustomed to
regard prosperity as a birthright and self-denial as a wrong.
You hardly yet know how hard it is for you to be humble,
genuine servants of Jesus of Nazareth, and to know what
He means when He so lovingly and so solemnly warns
you : My children, these things are not life.
You are young and active. You scarcely ever feel even
weary. It is a delight to you to feel your strength; to
match it with that of others, to think over its feats, to think
1 Robertson's Sermons, First Series : Sermon xvii.

124 LIFE.
how by practice you can give it a yet finer edge, to fancy
it winning fresh triumphs and fresh admiration hereafter.
Well, this strength and this activity are gifts of God —
blessed gifts, for which you cannot be too thankful — but
they are not life.
Again, you have unlimited store of amusement. You
need never be dull; never, if such is your pleasure, be
alone. Some taste of mind or body can be gratified in a
moment, with scarcely the cost of effort. This is interesting
no doubt, and intensely exciting. It may well be pressed
into Christ's service ; but of this too He does not fail to
caution us : It is not life.
Once more, if there be one gift which you possess in
abundant measure, it is your hopes. The future seems spread
out clear before you. It is yours to make it what you wish.
You start in the race, not weighted like most of your com
petitors, but with almost every conceivable help to encourage.
It is yours, if you will, to do good on a large scale, a scale
denied to most. No wonder that the bolder spirits among
you should hope largely, till hope borrows something of the
certainty of prophecy and the confidence of resolve.
This also is a gift of God — not the highest of all gifts,
not so high as the "faith" in good which triumphs over
repeated disappointment, and trusts on even when hope is
eclipsed ; not so high assuredly as that tender unselfish "love"
of others which is "the very bond of peace, and of all virtues,"
but still a glorious gift, the earnest of success, the parent of
large thoughts, the never-failing fountain of an unattained,
and therefore an inexhaustible happiness.
Yet even this great possession, which is yours, my brethren,
so " abundantly," even this is not life. Life is something
higher, deeper, richer than even this.
Life consists not in what you have, but in what you are ;
not in anything which can be seen, or measured, or paraded,
but in inward struggle, and in silent growth. Life is a hidden
thing; it is " hid with Christ in God." Do you ask whether
this invisible root produces fruits which may be seen ;
whether from the hidden storehouse any treasures may be

LIFE, 125
extracted to win the admiration of the world? We reply
that the hidden life has its abundance of possessions. They
are treasures of the Spirit. They are generosity, and purity,
and sympathy, and constant aspiration, and growing self-
control, and profound humility, and increasing love to God
and Christ. These are the treasures which make up a rich
life. Without these all appearances of life are delusions.
We may increase in knowledge, and influence, and wealth,
and years ; our " life," as we call it, may be progressing in
dignity and usefulness ; and yet He who sees in secret may
discern " in more of life true life no more ;" the spirit be
coming poorer and baser, ceasing to forget its allegiance to
Christ, and contenting itself with the husks intended only
for our lower nature.
And what is true of individuals is true of all societies.
The " life " of a great nation " consisteth not in the abun
dance of the things which it possesseth." These things
may make it envied or feared, but they do not make it live.
The life of a nation consists in its spiritual resources, in
the loftiness of its aims, in its sense of responsibility, in its
faith in God, in its willingness to make sacrifices, in its
reverence for justice, in its earnest anxiety for the spread
of Christ's kingdom, in its tender, thoughtful recognition of
the claims of the poor. Every public duty faithfully dis
charged, every storm of obloquy patiently encountered, every
life gallantly sacrificed, every death calmly awaited, every
hospital zealously visited, every trust honestly administered — ¦
each in its measure contributes a stream which swells the
rich tide of a nation's "life," rendering it richer in spiritual
treasures, more capable of service, more worthy of love.
And so, finally, it is with a body like our own. ¦ Most true
is it — God grant we may never forget the truth, never come
to repeat it as a traditional and conventional phrase — that
the " life " of a great school like ours " consisteth not in the
abundance of the things which it possesseth." We, my
brethren, have a name that we "live;"1 and if the reputa
tion be deserved, it is due to such spiritual influences as
have been already named. 1 Rev. iii. I.

126 LIFE.
Not by our great name, or our three centuries of growth;
not by the abundance of our appliances for amusement, for
instruction, or for worship ; not by our numbers or our wealth;
not by such accidents does God give us " life." If indeed we
live in His sight, we must possess other and rarer treasures.
The fear of God must be among us. We must be rich in
prayer. We must despise idleness. We must be ready to
uproot evil at whatever cost of popularity. We must be on
the alert to introduce fresh forms of good. We must be
full of brotherly kindness one towards another. We must
keep our tongue from evil, and our lips that they speak no
impurity, or profaneness, or untruth.
Now, are these and such as these the things which in our
heart of hearts we value most ; the things which most truly
answer to our idea of "life?" Is this what we think of
when we say to ourselves, The place is full of "life?" Or
have we some lower ideal — mere energy, or variety of taste, or
fulness of occupation, or freshness of intellectual ambition ?
My brethren, we must try to bring every thought and
judgment and standard into captivity to the law of our
Master, Christ. His standard must gradually become ours,
His ideal ours. He knows what human " life " should be ;
for He made it, and He quickens it. In the time of our
boyhood, in the " time of our wealth," let us not be deceived
by any counterfeit which custom agrees to honour as " life."
" Treasures in heaven;" " rich towards God;" " the life more
than meat, the body more than raiment ; " " man doth not
live by bread alone ; " a " world gained ; " a " soul," that is,
a life, lost; "the life hid with Christ in God;" "this is life
eternal, that they might know Thee the only true God, and
Jesus Christ, whom Thou hast sent ;" — such are the frag
ments of God's Word with which we do well to store our
hearts in the days of prosperity, reminding us of bur heavenly
inheritance and of Him who calls us to share it with Him.
" I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life." "Because
I live, ye shall live also."
February n, 1866.

SERMON XVI.
ST. THOMAS.
St. John xx. 24, 25.
"But Thomas, one of the twelve, called Didymus, was not with them
when Jesus came. The other disciples therefore said unto him, We
have seen the Lord. But he said unto them, Except I shall see in His
hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the
nails, and thrust my hand into His side, I will not believe. "
If the Gospel records be true, nothing can be clearer than
that the. apostles and friends of the Lord did not expect
Him to rise again. True, He had told them that He would
rise, but His words took no hold on their minds. So long
as He was with them they could see no reason for a humi
liation, an agony, or a frightful death ; and, humanly speaking,
there was none. It was only by special enlightenment that
they could at last be brought to see what we may call the
spiritual necessity for this abasement. Up to the eve of
Christ's Passion there was no man living on the earth who
could understand that Christ must have suffered these things
before entering into His glory.
And if the Passion was improbable, much more was the
Resurrection. John did not believe in it, nor Peter, nor
Thomas, nor the loving heart and womanly faith of Mary
Magdalene. When the last cry was uttered on the Cross,
hope left the hearts of the survivors : or rather, it lived only
in the spirit of the miserable malefactor who hung in agony
by His side. Of that solitary believer it has been finely

128 ST. THOMAS.

said, " This man, for the time that he hung there, was the
whole Christian Church in himself."1 But the others were a
band of disappointed mourners. They " trusted that it had
been He which should have redeemed Israel," and the hope
had proved a delusion. The darkness that overshadowed
all the land was a type of the utter darkness which shrouded
their own desolate hearts. _When the rich man went to the
Roman governor and begged the body of Jesus, and when
the mangled form — to them so sacred, to all else so con
temptible — was made over to his charge, their connexion
with Him was finished for ever. One more work of affection
remained for the women, but this only proved all the more
the depths of their hopelessness. They might still bring
spices and ointments to embalm the sacred body, and such
was the purport of their visit before dawn on Easter Day.
Then all would be over. Then the world would go on as
before, and their hearts might break quietly at home.
This is the testimony not of fancy, but of history ; a
history which claims to be tried by the tests by which all
other history is either refuted or confirmed. I need not
say that I here assume its truth ; and if it be true, then, as
I said, nothing can be clearer than that the Resurrection
of Jesus was altogether unexpected by His apostles. It is
necessary to remember this in order to. do justice to the
glorious record of the doubts of St. Thomas, which is one
of the most precious legacies that we owe to. St. John.
The facts can be briefly told, though each one is almost a
gospel in itself. The Lord had risen. He had shown
Himself to Mary Magdalene. He had told her of His
coming Ascension. This was in the early morning of that
day beyond all days. In the evening He showed Himself.
to others. He came to them as they were assembled to
gether in a room. His well-known voice had greeted them
with "Peace." He knew the weakness of their faith, and
therefore He showed them His hands and His side. He
went further. He prepared them for the great change which
was to come over them, converting these few trembling
¦ 1 Dr. Temple's Rugby Sermons, p. 377.

ST. THOMAS. 129

peasants, who were now assembled with closed doors for fear
of the Jews, into the noble army of martyrs and confessors
who a few days hence should announce to their enemies,
" We ought to obey God rather than men." 1
He prepared them, I say, for this marvellous change.
He said, " As my Father hath sent Me, even so send I you."
He gave them the power of discerning and judging human
hearts. Whosesoever sins ye declare to be forgiven, whose
soever sins ye declare to' be unforgiven, that sentence is
ratified by God Himself.
But there was one of the apostles who was not with them
when Jesus came on this occasion. Thomas was absent ;
and when the others told him that they had seen the Lord,
he could not believe it. He must have more proof. He
must have at least the same proof that they had had. The
Lord had shown to them His hands and His side, and
Thomas could be contented with nothing less. " Except I
shall see in His hands the print of the nails, and put my
finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into
His side, I will not believe."
Now, if I mistake not, this is a passage of Scripture which
has a peculiar interest for all earnest Christians who have
passed beyond extreme youth. I can imagine that some of
you have scarcely ever thought of it at all. But these I
should expect to be comparatively few. Most of you who
have ever read the story of the Saviour's Life and Death
with anything like a devout wish to grasp their meaning will
have paused at this passage. Perhaps your first impression
will have been that Thomas was altogether wrong ; that his
doubts were wicked, and his demand presumptuous. Then
this first impression may have been qualified as you came
to notice more carefully the particulars of the story, and
also the hints as to the character of the man which we
had derived from previous sources.
To take the last first. Thomas was not a man of a
cold heart, incapable of affection' and loyalty. A few
days before the week of the Passion, an incident occurred
1 Acts v. 29.
K

ST. THOMAS.

which proved this. Jesus was summoned to come to
Lazarus, who was sick. To" reach Bethany, where the sick
man lay, it was necessary to incur much danger. His dis
ciples, anxious for His safety, said unto Him, "Master,
the Jews of late sought to stone Thee; and goest Thou
thither again ?" When it was clear that Jesus was resolved
to encounter the peril, " Then," we read, " said Thomas
unto his fellow-disciples, Let us also go, that we may die
with Him."1 No indication here of a cold, timid, loveless
spirit. He speaks as we might have expected ' Peter to
speak, or the disciple whom Jesus loved.
A few days later, another characteristic incident is
recorded. The Last Supper was over, and the Lord was
preparing His apostles for His approaching departure.
" Whither I go ye know," so He said to them, " and the
way ye know." A reply is at once made, and made by
Thomas : " Lord, we know not whither Thou goest ; and
how can we know the way?"2 Better to contradict the
Lord Himself; better to confess ignorance, dulness of
apprehension, immaturity of faith ; better anything than to
pretend, even by silence, to know what he only half knew.
To be reproved for ignorance of Christ he could bear. To
be ignorant of Christ, and pretend to understand Him,
he could not bear. He must have the truth at any price.
Here, then, are two indications of the man's character,
and they both point, I will not say in the same, but at least
in a common direction. Courageous loyalty and honest love
of truth have been knit together by God. You seldom
find one without the other.
But, as I said, we gain fresh hints as to the character of
Thomas from the remainder of the story now before us.
For one whole week he was left alone with his doubts — a
terrible solitude. A poet or a great master of human
nature might attempt to picture that week to us, its misery,
its hopes, the ebb and flow of faith, the passionate prayer,
the painful consciousness of seeming less loving than others,
the humble, perhaps exaggerated, self-reproach at not being
1 John xi. 8, 16. 2 John xiv. 4, 5.

ST. THOMAS.

able to accept what a Peter and a Mary declared ; and yet
the impossibility of the thing, the incapacity for staking
life upon anything less than certainty, the hope that Christ,
if He still lived, and if He were still what He was, would
understand and make allowance for this suspense, this
eclipse of faith ; the calm which would at times replace
anguish from the honest conviction, " Lord, Thou knowest
all things. Thou knowest the cause of these dark hours.
Thou knowest whether they are right or whether they are
Wrong. Thou knowest all things. Thou knowest that I
love Thee."
But these, it will be said, are but surmises. Let us, then,
come to recorded facts. The week of doubt at length
passed. Once more the Lord showed Himself to His
chosen servants. This time Thomas was among them,
prepared, though doubting, to believe, and that with a
strength, with a grasp, with a depth of insight in proportion
to the intensity of the struggle.
Jesus offered him the proof he had asked. Think you
" He would have done this to a scoffer, to a cold heart, to
one who enjoyed his doubts, to one who wished to dis
believe ? Oh, not so. At Nazareth, at His own home, we
read that " He did not many mighty works there because of
their unbelief" 1 And when " an evil and adulterous gene
ration" challenged Him to give them some sign of His
Messiahship, He refused. To love alone can the Saviour
reveal Himself. Where He grants light He discerns love.
And so here with Thomas : " Reach hither thy finger and
behold My hands ; and reach hither thy hand and thrust
it into My side : and be not faithless, but believing."
We read not that the offer was accepted. Who can
believe that it was ? The voice, the presence, the compas
sion, the insight, — here surely was the true answer to the
week of doubts. That week had done its work. The
heart was now prepared for the disclosure and the conse
quent conviction. " Thomas answered and said unto Him,
My Lord and my God." 1 Matt. xiii. 58.
K 2

1 32 ST. THOMAS.

His doubts were forgiven ; his blessedness was great.
But there was a blessedness yet greater. "Jesus saith
unto him, Thomas, because thou hast seen Me, thou hast
believed : blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have '
believed." There are two states of mind which are dear to our Lord
Jesus Christ. There are honest doubts ; there is childlike
faith. There are some who long to believe, but find it very
hard. There are others to whom faith seems a special gift
of God. They scarcely believe that there can be difficulties.
They ask not for evidence, not at least for the evidence of
sight. They dwell habitually in a light after which they
have not struggled. They believe without effort. To live
in the- spirit of what they believe, to act, as we say, up to
their light, that is for them the battle of life.
Our Lord Jesus Christ has a heart open to both these
classes, and work for both to do ; but to the latter, to those
whose faith is simple as the faith of children, He does
attach a peculiar blessedness. It is theirs to have no breaks,
no blanks, no chasms in their religious life ; to Carry a
devout boyhood into an earnest manhood ; to serve Christ,
not by fits and starts, with paroxysms of enthusiasm, re
placed by intervals of relaxation, but steadily and unceas
ingly; to "add to" their "faith virtue, and to virtue know
ledge, and to knowledge temperance;"1 to move naturally
and gracefully, as in a familiar region, in "things per
taining to God ;" to feel at home in the secrets of souls ;
to be sober counsellors, patterns of holiness, witnesses by
their consistent bearing to the unearthly beauty of a
Christian life. Blessed, indeed, are such ; blessed to them
selves, blessed to their friends, blessed to the Church and
country which they serve.
There are others not equally blessed, but perhaps not less
acceptable to God. Their spiritual victories are not blood
less. Every inch of ground they win is won by hard inward
fighting. Mysteries full of light to others are full of dark
ness to them. And yet, like Thomas, they long to believe.
1 2 Pet. i. 5, 6. f

ST. THOMAS. 133

They doubt, not because the truth is unwelcome, but because
it is too welcome to be true. Such struggles sometimes last
through life, and then probably the man passes to his grave
hardly recognized by men as a Christian at all.
More often, far more often, the darkness endures only for
a time ; and the honest doubter, taught by an enlarging
experience, emerges into the " true light and clear knowledge
of Him who is our peace."
Fifty years since, at one of the smallest Colleges in Oxford,
there were two friends, for each of whom God had assigned
a noble and conspicuous post in His service. Each was to
rank high in the army of Christ, and to be dear to distant
generations of Englishmen. To one was given in largest
measure the gift of faith, and the gentle saintliness of which
unruffled faith is the parent. To the other was given a
passionate love of the Lord Jesus Christ, but on the con
dition on which Thomas received it — the condition of
passing through long and most distressing doubts.
The elder friend advised the younger to put down his
objections by main force, as though faith could ever come
by compulsion.1 The younger, to whom the story of Thomas
was ever one of the dearest passages of Scripture, "fought
his doubts and gathered strength," and became one of Christ's
most fearless champions.
More than twenty years ago Arnold was called away, yet
in his prime, having shown how the education of boys could
be dedicated to Christ. A few weeks since the saintly
Keble passed to his rest, leaving to his countrymen the
" Christian Year," and the beautiful memory of a life which
seems the very type of what the Saviour blessed : " Blessed
are they that have not seen, and yet have believed."
For such characters, so varied, yet so similar, we do well
to thank God, and to call them instinctively to our aid in
interpreting the Scriptures by which their lives were guided.
And such thoughts are in harmony with Easter, So far as
the Christian Year — the course, I mean, of Christian events
— has any influence in moulding our thoughts, Easter should
1 See Stanley's " Life of Arnold," end of Chap. I.

134 ' ST. THOMAS.

fill us full of hope and energy. It says to the youngest and
weakest here, " Christ, who rose from the dead, has a work
for you. He conquered sin. He calls on you to conquer
yours ; to make it the business of your life here to .get rid
of besetting sins, and to become pure, and truthful, and
honest, and obedient, and diligent, and, at the last, holy.
This He calls upon you to do, and He does not leave you
to do it alone. He is not a dead, powerless Saviour. He
is risen, and He sends His Spirit for the very purpose of.
helping you to be good and like Himself."
This is the truth which you and I must try to grasp. It
is not easy to grasp, though easy to repeat. It is very
difficult to grasp ; many of you know that by experience.
But still, I say, try to grasp it. Do all you can to realize
the fact that Jesus Christ, the Christ of the Gospels, did
really die and really rise again. Acquaint yourselves
familiarly with the incidents of His several appearances,
this to Thomas among the number. Observe His manner,
His arguments, His apparent aims, His treatment of Mary,
of Peter, of John. Observe how confident His tone, how
certain His conviction that the death which He had just
died, and the life to which He had just risen, were the signal
alike and the instrument for proclaiming "repentance and
remission of sins " to all nations for all ages to come.
" Whoso is wise will ponder these things." As you
gradually make them your own, the belief of childhood will
gradually ripen into the conviction of manhood : "My Lord,
and my God."

April 22, 1 865.

SERMON XVII.
A "GOOD MAN."
Acts xi. 24.
"For lie was a good man, and full of the Holy Ghost and of faith."
The eulogy is so simple that perhaps we hardly catch its
significance ; yet it is a mere truism to say that before the first
Whitsunday it would have been wholly unintelligible. New
thoughts were born on that day. A new era, a new way of
thinking and feeling set in. A mighty change swept over the
face of the earth, destined, like all other changes which God
works, to take effect gradually, measuring its progress by
centuries and by ages, but none the less real because its
spread was not immediate or its recognition universal.
Among the new things introduced into the world on the
first Whitsunday was the Christian idea of human goodness.
A "good man" up to that time meant something different
from what it has meant since ; and if this be so, it is well
worth our while to consider in what the difference consists.
We are constantly using the expression ourselves ; often
talking of good men ; often too, I am quite sure, wishing
and praying that we may ourselves become good, because,
however little we may have grasped in its fulness the true
notion of goodness, we yet feel that it is the one thing
needful, the one thing which we were made to live for and
which is worth living for ; the thing, compared with which
all cleverness and popularity and success are simply nothing;

H6 A " GOOD MAN."

the one thing which makes us like' God, and gives us' any
hope of seeing Him hereafter.
What, then, do we really mean, or ought we to mean,
when we speak of a " good man " ? What is the kind of
standard by which we propose to measure? Before we
try to answer this question directly, let me ask you to think
briefly i over one or two other standards of goodness, con
fessedly different from the Christian.
It must sometimes strike the more thoughtful among you
as you read the works of the great classical writers that the
kind of goodness which they hold up, consciously or uncon
sciously, for admiration is only in part like our own. We
must always be on our guard lest in instituting com
parisons of this kind we should do an injustice to those who
lived before our Lord came on the earth and never received
any direct revelation of the true God. To contrast their
vices with Christian virtues, their worst corruptions with the
purest victories of Christianity, their men of the world
with Christian saints, is manifestly unfair, and any generous
lnind feels and resents the unfairness. God never left Him
self without a witness in the hearts of any people that He had
created, least of all in two nations which He had endowed
so magnificently as the Greeks and the Romans ; and Whit
sunday is of all days the day on which we are bound to
remember the eternal truth, which was applicable thousands
of years ago, and will be applicable to the end of time : " God
is no respecter of persons : but in every nation he that feareth
Him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with Him."1
Still the classical idea of human goodness was only in
part what we believe to be the true one. To a Greek in
the palmy days of Athenian culture a " good man " would
have been one who was just and upright and self-con
trolled, incapable of being unduly elated by prosperity, or
of being terrified by popular clamour. Nay, there were
some who came so near to the kingdom of God as to
discern that it is better to suffer wrong than to commit
it ; better to be discovered and punished than to be un-
1 Acts x. 34, 35.

A " GOOD MAN." 137

detected ; better even to accept than to resent, or return,
an insulting word or blow.1 To such men we delight to
apply the high eulogy of our Lord : " Many prophets and
righteous men have desired to see those things which ye see,
and have not seen them ; and to hear those things which ye
hear, and have not heard them."2
Still, having said thus much, we are obliged to add, first,
that this high standard of goodness, far from being generally
accepted, seems rather to have been the discovery and the
treasure of a few exalted minds ; and secondly, that taken at
its best it still fell far short of the Christian standard. The
Greek " good man " was not one who knew his own sinful
ness in the sight of God, who felt profoundly humiliated by
this habitual consciousness, who was kindled by any personal
devotion to God, who longed to make God's glory known to
the poor and the degraded, or rejoiced in the thought of
divine strength made perfect in human weakness.
And similarly with the other great nation on which God
bestowed so many excellent gifts. In the best times of
Rome a " good man " was one who lived for his country
rather than for himself. Patriotism to a Roman was itself
a religion. To save his country from dishonour was to
save his country's gods from shame. Further, the Roman
honoured, as few nations have honoured, the authority of
parents. An ungrateful son, or a frivolous, scornful son,
laughing at a parent's infirmities, would have been to him
an object of contempt and horror. And with this intense
patriotism and profound filial reverence came, as there
always will come, a rich accompaniment of other noble
virtues — reverence for law, a keen sense of honour, de
votion to truth, boundless courage, contempt for wealth and
luxuries, scorn of everything merely brilliant and showy
unless it were marked with the broad stamp of duty' by being
devoted to the public service. But the " good man " at
Rome was grievously wanting in what are to us some of the
first essentials of goodness. He had no respect for weak-
1 The allusions will be clear to even a superficial student of Plato.
2 Matt. xiii. 17.

138 A " GOOD MAN."

ness, little magnanimity towards conquered enemies, no
horror of war and the untold miseries which attend it ; far
less the more distinctly religious virtues, hatred of moral
evil, a yearning to please God by making men better and
happier, a desire that even the base and wicked might be
partakers of His holiness and His glory.
There was indeed one ancient people whose idea of good
ness approached far nearer to the Christian. Nothing proves
to us more clearly that the Israelites were indeed " the
chosen people," a people singled out specially by God for
a special training in a special knowledge of Himself not
granted to others, than the thoughts which they entertained
on this one subject, human goodness. For our present
purpose it is sufficient to look at their Old Testament
history as a whole, though we know in fact that their
character was not always the same. It developed from
age to age, and with it their idea of goodness. It is not
from Jacob or even from Moses that we have the profound
self-abasement : " Have mercy upon me, O God, after Thy
great goodness ; according to the multitude of Thy mercies
do away mine offences. Cast me not away from Thy pre
sence, and take not Thy Holy Spirit from me." J In these
words of David we do indeed come near to the Spirit
of Christ. We find what we find in no other people, what
is the very root of the Christian life, and what is conse
quently essential to our Christian idea of human goodness —
an intense conviction of the holiness of God, of our personal
relation to Him, of the displeasure which our sins cause
Hirn^ — " Against Thee, Thee only have I sinned and done
this evil in Thy sight" — of the truth that nothing of our
own, no strength of will, no shame, no remorse, no desire
to be better, no sacrifice however costly is able to cleanse
us from our pollution ; but that this can only be done by
1 God Himself, by that Holy Spirit who is the source and the
stay of all moral and religious life.
But even to the Psalmists and the Prophets, much more
to the people of whom they were the teachers, was denied
1 T>s. Ii. 1, 11, 4.

A "GOOD MAN." 139

much that is familiar to us. Even in the Old Testament
history, and how much more in every other anterior to the
coming of Christ, we should have been startled by the
description : " A good man, full of the Holy Ghost and of
faith." To us the thought of a "good man" — when we think
seriously and are not content with merely conventional
language — suggests, I suppose, some such image as this.
We see one not having as yet attained, but pressing
forward;1 not holy, but bent on being holy; not stainless,
but deeply conscious of guilt in God's sight. Such a man
takes as his standard of goodness the example of his
Master, Christ. He tries to find the clue to that wonderful
life, to see what were its guiding principles. In the first
place, it was a life of constant communion with God ; work
for God's honour, prayer because it was a necessity of His
Spirit to be habitually in contact with God. Then again, it
was a life of constant self-denial. On every page of it and
over every line of it was the text written, " Not My will, but
Thine be done." Irksome duties, postponement of self,
were its daily rule. Further, it was a life of wonderful
sympathy. It did not sit apart in isolated purity, or shed
a tear over sorrows which it had not known. It mixed
with men and women. It played its part in the society,
the controversies, the dust and the tumult of the world. It
gave its sympathy in most varied channels. It spoke face
to face with the poor fisherman, the woman who was a
sinner, the honest but timid Nicodemus, the rich tax-
gatherer, the earnest humble woman of Sarepta, the frivolous
self-satisfied woman of Samaria. All and each it met on
their own ground. It made them understand themselves.
It revealed to them unsuspected depths in their own hearts,
and all this by the wonderful power of sympathy.
But there was this to be noticed further. This sympathy,
given to all, did seem to be in one sense " a respecter of
persons." Never did it seem so much itself, so entirely
natural, so peculiarly characteristic as when it stooped to
something wretched and degraded. It took for itself, as it
1 See Philipp. iii. 12—14.

140 A " GOOD MAN."

were, a device which had shone before on no other- shield :
" The Son of Man is come to seek and to save that which
was lost." 1 "I came not to call the righteous, but sinners
to repentance." 2 " It is not the will of your Father which
is in heaven, that one of these little ones should perish."3
Such, I say, was the peculiar, the characteristic, though not
the only channel in which the sympathy of the Saviour
habitually flowed. It was so characteristic, so peculiarly dis
tinctive as to have coloured the lives of all His true followers
since. Tried by the Christian standard, a " good man " must
in this respect be like his Master, not only just and honourable
and kind and forgiving, but lowly of heart, condescending
to men of low estate, attaching himself by an instinct more
deep-seated than that of chivalry to all that worldly society
despises and ignores, and measuring all human progress and
all genuine civilization by his Master's credential : how far,
how truly, how wisely, how completely is the Gospel preached
to the poor, to the publicans, and the sinners ?
These ideas, it cannot be denied, are essential to our
modern conception of a "good man." And practically I
believe that they do colour our judgment when we assign
to any one the noble praise of being good. We measure
him involuntarily by the Person of Christ. We look out in
him for points of resemblance to his Master. We look less
to the degree to which he has at present attained than to
the direction in which he is unmistakeably moving. We
" take knowledge of" him that he has " been with Jesus." 4
Henceforward we measure him — we know he would wish
to be measured— by no lower standard.
But then, if this be so, "Who is sufficient for these
things ? "6 If the " good man " must be at least this, do not
some painful misgivings involuntarily rise in our hearts ?
How will our own characters bear this test, or the characters
of many of our dearest friends ? Do their lives appear to
be really coloured by the hue of Christian effort ? Are not
their most attractive graces earthly rather than heavenly?
1 Luke xix. 10. • 2 Mark ii. 17. s Matt, xviii. 14.
4 Acts iv. 13. 6 2 Cor. ii. 16.

A " GOOD MAN." 141

Are not even their virtues, of which we are so proud,
fruits of temperament rather than fruits of the Spirit ? Con
stant communion with God in prayer ; constant self-denial
for Christ's sake ; deep humility for sins committed, and
grateful love for sins forgiven — this humility and love find
ing a vent for their expression in practical sympathy with
the weak and degraded — if these things are the elements
out of which a " good man " in the Christian sense is re
created, how indeed can we and our friends bear the
scrutiny ? I do not ask whether our faults are consistent
with such a standard. I ask whether that which is best
in us is of that kind, is moving in that direction.
Such questions, while they do not admit of a complete
answer, will not be useless if they stir up any one here to
inquire what he is indeed living for. When we tliink of
the first Whitsunday and the marvellous stores of energy,
wisdom, love, and courage that were poured out on the first
disciples, laying the foundation of the Christian Church,
and creating a new idea of what should hereafter be
regarded as human goodness, we may be led on to think
soberly of the source of their strength and the cause of our
weakness. Why were they full of faith, and we at the best
full of .conscientiousness ? Why did they believe all victories
to be possible in the name of Christ, while we are almost
surprised and incredulous when we hear of any Christian
triumph? To use the words read to us this evening,
" Have we received the Holy Ghost since we believed ? "
If so, why are we so selfish and so languid ? If not, unto
what, then, were we baptized? Not to be upright citizens
of a great country, not to be active workers in a noble
institution, not only to be truthful and honest and kind-
hearted, not for this alone were we devoted to Christ in
baptism, and pledged to be His soldiers and servants.
It is strange to think that our lives will be a failure unless
the language of truth can repeat over the grave of each of
us, "He was a 'good man,' full of the Holy Ghost and
of faith."

Whitsunday, May 26, 1866.

SERMON XVIII.
HYMNS.
Psalm xlvii. 7.
" God is the King of all the earth : sing ye praises with understanding.''
We spoke last Sunday of what must always be the root and
the substance of all spiritual life — the fear of God ; a dread
of sin as of something very awful; calm and quiet com
muning of the heart with itself and with God : " stand in
awe and sin not ; commune with your own heart and in your
chamber, and be still." I reminded you that there could
be no substitute, no approach to a substitute, for this
simple, unostentatious devotion of the heart. No outward
ordinance, however solemn, no form of ritual, however
tender and moving, could by any possibility take the place
of what is alone vital and personal in religion. Religious
excitement we saw was not religion. Strong emotion was
not necessarily strong faith nor genuine love. Something
more deep-rooted and less variable than highly-wrought
feeling was required as the foundation of a " life hid with
Christ in God," capable of meeting the trials and frivolities
of earth with resignation, fortitude, and earnestness.
To-day I have to ask your attention to a very different
subject, a subject which may appear to some the very
opposite of the former. I wish to speak of the public
service of God in this place, or rather of one particular
part of that service — the singing praises to God in the
Psalms and in the Hymns. Probably we should be right

HYMNS. 143

in believing that the interest in this part of our service,
always great, has become still greater of late ; that it fills a
larger part of our thoughts ; that it influences strongly not
those who are least but those who are most influential among
us ; that it will hold a cherished place among those common
ties which are so soon to pass into memories for so many of
those whom I now address.
Perhaps, indeed, we may go one step further and believe
that this increasing interest is felt not least strongly to-day.
To-day this particular part of our public devotion seems to
make one step in advance. We have this day sung — I hope,
"to the praise and glory of God" — some hymns which we
have never sung here before.1 Retaining all that we have so
long become attached to, we have added something to our
former stores. May God's blessing rest upon the new as
we believe it to have rested on the old ! May our use of
such helps to worship be now and always devout and intel
ligent ! Let us never forget to whom they are addressed —
the holy God, who seeth the heart, and knows whether
silence or speech is the truer worship. " The Lord is in His
holy temple : let all the earth keep silence before Him."2
" God is the King of all the earth ; sing ye praises with
understanding." I must not stop to point out what has often and recently
been impressed upon us before ; how important it is to give
to praise its due place in public worship, indeed in all
worship of God. Prayer, in the sense of petitioning, is
more natural to us than praise. There is more of self in
it. When we are sorrowful, or disappointed, or perplexed,
or overwhelmed with remorse for past sins, we are almost
forced to pray. But in quiet times, without any peculiarly
constraining impulse, to have the heart full of thankful
ness and adoration, to be able to say from the heart,
"Praise the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me
praise His holy name ;"3 this we all know is not an easy
1 A new edition of the School Chapel Hymn-Book was used for
the first time on this Sunday.
2 Hab. ii. 20. 3 Ps. ciii. 1.

144, ' HYMNS.

thing. It springs from a state of mind which every
honest and humble Christian will admit to be a sadly
rare one.
But I must not dwell on this all-important topic. I
can only beg of you to regard it as lying at the foundation
of all I am about to say. Psalms and hymns are things
dedicated to God. " God is the King of all the earth : "
therefore, " sing ye praises with understanding."
How far do we all follow this teaching when we repeat the
psalms in this place with our outward lips ? First, do we
reflect on the meaning of the words ? Secondly, do we
know anything or wish to know anything of the meaning or
history of the whole psalm of which they form a part ?
. Some of you at least are quite capable of following up this
thought, and trying to put before your minds the circum
stances, so far as they can be ascertained, which gave birth
to some particular psalm ; whether, for instance, it was a
burst of gratitude after some great victory, as that of
Hezekiah over the Assyrians;1 or a royal prayer for royal
blessings like that of David for Solomon : " Give the King
Thy judgments, O God, and Thy righteousness unto the
King's son ;"2 or a passionate longing to return to the sanc
tuary from some one who on the distant heights beyond
the Jordan was banished from the Holy City : " As the
hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul
after Thee, O God;"3 or, lastly, the breaking up of all
the fountains of the heart after some grievous sin has been
committed, and its heinousness is at last realized, like
the agony of David after hearing from Nathan, "Thou
art the man :" "Have mercy upon me, O God, after Thy
great goodness : according to the multitude of Thy mercies
do away mine offences."4
It is worth observing that psalms of this last kind,
psalms expressive of deep personal abasement, or indeed
deep personal feeling of any kind, were not ordinarily
employed by the Jewish people in their public worship in
the synagogue. The psalms which they then introduced
1 Ps. lxxvi. 2 Ps. lxxii. 3 Ps. xlii. * Ps. Ii.

HYMNS. j45

were pre-eminently psalms of praise, and expressive of
general congregational feeling, as, for instance, that mag
nificent outburst of gratitude and patriotic pride, the 48th
Psalm : " God is the Lord, and highly to be praised, in
the city of our God, even upon His holy hill ;" or again
the 9 2d, which seems to consecrate all such devotional
singing as that of which we are now speaking : "It is a good
thing to give thanks unto the Lord, and to sing praises unto
Thy name, O most Highest."
This characteristic of united rather than of personal ex
pression of feeling belongs to the earliest hymns introduced
into the Christian Church. Ascription of united praise was
their burthen, rather than the outpouring of individual want.
And in our own devotions it is very important for us to
remember the truth embodied in that custom. We are
not isolated Christians, we are members of a Christian
Church. We are brothers in Christ. We have common
needs, common desires ; one Father of all, one Saviour
of all, one Holy Spirit the common heritage of all. This
should never be forgotten. No consciousness of our own
,sins and troubles should ever make us lose sight of the
truth that others are struggling as we have to struggle ; that
the same sufferings "are accomplished" in our "brethren
that are in the world."1
But because this is true, does it therefore follow that
.those hymns which describe the communings of the soul
with God are unfitted for public worship? If so, I do
not stop to point out that the objection applies equally to
a very large portion of the Psalms — not least to that touching
psalm which we sung this evening, " Why art thou so vexed,
O my soul? and why art thou so disquieted within me?"2
but we should at once have to banish from our use many
of the most searching and comforting hymns which have
in any age supported the people of God. Of these one
example will serve :
" Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee."
1 1 Pet. v. 9. 2 Psalm xlii. 14.

146 HYMNS.

Who would be willing — what Church that ever knew it
would be willing — to give up such a hymn as this ? Surely
those who use it are not tempted to be selfish or egotistical
in their devotion. The very fact that it is sung by united
voices reminds us of common wants. The conscience of
one sinner is the mouthpiece of all. The tendency is to
draw us together, not to leave each alone with " the plague
of his own heart."1
What, after all, is the great function of hymns in public
worship ? It is to enlist our feelings on the side of adora
tion and penitence, and by the aid of these chastened and
elevated feelings to lift our heart to God. It is to bring
before our hearts as well as our memories, in an attractive
and a moving form, the great facts of our holy faith — the
Trinity, the Birth, the Sufferings, the Atonement, the Death,
the Resurrection, the Ascension of Christ, and the gift of
the Holy Spirit, and also to help us to apply these great
facts and doctrines to our own particular wants.
There are many to whose devotion the help which a
hymn supplies is almost indispensable. To young children,
to the poor, to those whose intellects are not powerful
or not highly cultivated, the words, the cadence, the very
tune of a hymn often suggest thoughts of God and the
heavenly home, which no colder or more rigid instrument
could possibly convey. Nay, there is not one of us who
need be ashamed to confess the spiritual aid which he
derives from a favourite hymn. He is apt to be hard ; and
it touches him. He is apt to think too highly of the intel
lect ; the hymn reminds him that what God cares for most is
the heart. He is apt to be solitary in his religion ; the hymn
places him on a level with the poorest and humblest, forms
a link with his childhood, and reminds him of the common
treasure-house of thoughts and sentiments which is the
heritage of all earnest Christians.
And further, a hymn sung is a different thing from a hymn
repeated and read. It may be a difficult thing to analyse,
and it would be beside my present object to make the
1 1 Kings viii. 38.

HYMNS. 147

attempt, why it is that the sight and the sound of a congre
gation like this singing together the words of some beautiful
psalm or hymn strangely and deeply stirs the heart with a
power unknown to private devotion. But, however deep
the cause may lie in this wonderful frame of ours, however
mysterious the connexion between the various organs of
sense, and the spirit which alone communes with God,
no one will question that the fact is as I have stated it,
and no devout Christian will hesitate to find in the fact a
fresh claim on our gratitude to the Giver of every good
gift. There is a certain contagion in devotion. The belief
that others are in earnest tends to make us earnest too.
When in this place we sing together with one heart and one
voice some joyful hymn of praise to our great God and
Father, or some confession of common infirmities, or some
petition for guidance in perplexity, or support in sorrow,
or for " a closer walk with God, a calm and heavenly frame,"
and when we know that we are not dissemblers with God,
mocking Him with a miserable lip-service, but that we
believe He hears, and approves, and will grant what is good
for us ; surely at such times — may I not speak, my brethren,
for all of you? — our hopes for one another become more
lofty; our conviction that God is among us, working in His
own way in these sinful hearts of ours, becomes confirmed ;
the worldliness and selfishness that are in us drop off,
at least for the moment ; once again we are as children in
the presence of a Father, whom, in spite of all our past
disobedience, we now long earnestly to obey.
This is why we rejoice so heartily when any effort of
your own, any watchful and kindly guidance, any fresh
organization among yourselves, succeeds in giving new life
and warmth and solidity to the musical part of our worship.
Not to add a prettiness to a striking spectacle ; not to satisfy
the theory of some particular school or some particular party
in the Church ; not to attain some standard or fashion in
vogue elsewhere ; not to gratify our own taste and love of
order — not for any of these things, God forbid, do we
value our hymns and the heartiness with which they are sung.
l 2

148 HYMNS.

Never at any time of our lives may any of us worship so
paltry an idol as this ! No ; but because that which is
deepest in us finds an expression in these sacred songs ;
because our feeble love to God gathers strength ; because
" our faint desires rise " as we hear one another's voices ;
because our love for this place becomes intensified as we
view this expression of its united action ; because we know
•that fresh common ties are thus being tightly knit together,
certain to survive separation, absence, variety of pursuit,
. differences of opinion, nay, perhaps even personal estrange
ment hereafter; because many who now meet together in
this House of God will, in after years, look back to these
hymns and these services as some of God's most blessed
messengers to their souls in boyhood ; it is for these reasons
that we rejoice together at the gradual growth of a custom
which will not die. " It is a good thing to give thanks unto
the Lord, and to sing praises unto Thy name, O most
Highest." One more thought in connexion with these hymns I would
suggest to the more thoughtful among you. Sunday by
Sunday we repeat the prayer, that " All they who confess
God's holy name may agree in the truth of His holy Word.''
This is our prayer, and life seems to contradict it. Division,
separation, suspicion, seem to predominate among Christians
over that love which " believeth all things " that was to be
their special characteristic. The "Communion of Saints"
is to many zealous Christians a mere empty name. The
thought that Christ's servants have a bond of unity greater
than that which they outwardly recognize, exercises, it is to
be feared, but little influence on the Christian world.
There are doubtless many ways in which this comforting
doctrine may be realized by earnest inquirers. Let them
study history profoundly ; let them mix much in the world
among all classes, avoiding cliques and party names and
merely party writings; let them read the lives of God's
unquestioned servants, to whatever Church or party they
belong ; let them mingle much with the poor and the dying,
to whom party ties are unknown ; by any of these channels

HYMNS. 149

God will disclose to their eyes the truth that He " is no
respecter of persons, but " that " in every nation," and in
every Church, and in every party in that Church or that
sect, "he that feareth Him, and worketh righteousness, is
accepted with Him."1
But it may well be doubted whether any teacher will
convey this lesson more impressively or more delightfully
than the study of hymns. Hymns of the Eastern Church
from the fifth century ; hymns of the Western Ghurch in
mediaeval times and down to the Reformation ; hymns wrung
from the very heart of God's most heroic servants at that time
of terrible sifting ; hymns, again, written almost in letters of
blood a century later during the fearful carnage and desola
tion of the Thirty Years' War ; all these are contributions
from foreign lands and various languages, but all are proofs
of the true Communion of Saints.
And passing to our own favoured land, it is indeed a
shallow and a baseless taunt to accuse her of being poor in
excellent hymns. At no period since the Reformation has
she been barren. Many of the noblest were written a
century ago, when the spiritual life of the upper classes was
at its lowest ; nor has there perhaps been ever a more fertile
time than during the last thirty years. If any of you at any
time investigate this subject, you will be surprised at the
immense variety in the circumstances of those to whom ouf
noblest hymns are due. You will see that they belong not
to one century or another ; not to one Church, or one sect,
or one class, or one part alone of this kingdom ; but that
from every section of our fellow-Christians have been found
gifted servants of God, pouring forth their adoration, their
penitence, or their trust, in language which is not of a
party, but simply Christian.
This is one of not the least precious lessons which hymns
are allowed to teach. Let us remember it thoughtfully as
we praise God. He " is the King of all the earth : sing "
we " praises with understanding." 1 Acts x. 34, 35.
July, 8 1866.

SERMON XIX.
"IT DOTH NOT YET APPEAR."
i John iii. 2.
" Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what
we shall be: but we know that, when He shall appear, we shall be
like Him ; for we shall see Him as He is. " .
If we can fully believe this verse, how many questionings
of the heart does it satisfy. What are we 2 Is there a
hereafter 1 If there is, what shall we then be 1 These are
the questions with which at times we all stir the depths of
our hearts. Revelation answers, but does not stifle them ;
does not prevent them from again and again recurring,
not indeed to perplex or torture, but to rouse and to
stimulate and to elevate, asking us once more, " Where and
what is your faith? Do you believe that Jesus died and
rose again? Are you sure, without misgiving, that those
who sleep in Jesus, yourself alike and your friends, God
will bring with Him into His own presence, there to remain
with Him, and together, for ever ?"
Listen once more to the words of St. John. See how
full is their comforting reply: "Beloved, now are we chil
dren of God. Never yet was exhibited in its fulness what
we are to be hereafter : but this we know, that when
the Saviour is exhibited in His fulness, then we shall be
like God, because we shall see Him as He is."

" IT DOTH NOT YET APPEAR." 151
Here are three distinct assurances :
1st. We Christians are now, in this our earthly life,
children of God.
2d. There is a future being awaiting us all, beyond and
greater than all that we have ever yet reached.
And 3dly, as to the nature of this future being, thus
much at least we know, that we shall be like God, because
we shall see Him as He is. To see God is to be like Him.
The man that gazes on the divine is already transfigured
and become a partaker of the divine nature.
First, then, "Now are we children of God." This is
what your Baptism meant. It is on this truth that Con
firmation rests. This is what will ever be present to our
minds when in the course of the next two months we speak
to those who desire to be confirmed. You are all children
of God ; not His subjects only as if He were a king, not
His servants only as if He were a master, but His children — -
owned by Him, loved by Him, helped by Him, the daily
and hourly objects of His fatherly care.
I know the difficulty of grasping this truth. We are all
tempted to regard each other simply as acquaintances, or
sons of particular earthly parents, or members of society, or
boys and men casually brought into connexion with each
other for purposes or accidents into which the thought of
eternity cannot naturally enter. This is the tendency, the
temptation. We all know its power. But the truth re
mains unshaken, in spite of all our indifference and want
of faith. We are all of us children of God. He is inter
ested in the welfare of each with inexpressible tenderness
and sympathy. He has showered upon us magnificent
gifts, if" we will but acknowledge them and use them to
His glory. There is not one among us so poorly endowed
but that his heart can swell with love of good and admiration
and reverence ; can feel the beauty and tenderness of the
life of Jesus Christ ; can believe in a God who hears prayer,
and so taste " the powers of the world to come." And these
are glorious gifts, the gifts of a Father to children whom
He loves and respects. Could we remember this, how

152 " IT DOTH NOT YET APPEAR?'
impossible it would be to regard with impatience or with
anything like contempt even the humblest of those whom
our God thought worthy to be members of His family. >
And the recollection would be for our own comfort. The
hidden root of all unhappiness seems to be that we do not
fully recognize God as our Father. If we did, we should
feel sure that "What our Father does must be well." He
loves us too dearly to allow us to be really injured, that is,
made worse, by any trial that may test us. And if we felt
sure of this, there is sufficient nobleness in the nature which
He has given us to be willing to bear any pain, or lone
liness, or even injustice. However bitter it might be, how
ever undeserved so far as man was concerned, yet once
let us grasp the conviction that it is permitted by an
all-wise and loving Father for our good — and the burden
becomes, if not light, at least tolerable ; nay, best of all,
it may at last actually come to be looked upon as a fresh
claim upon our gratitude.
That school would be nobly governed where the idea of
all being God's children was widely received and actively at
work. What kindness, patience, and mutual respect would
it inspire ! How impossible would it be that what the
Scripture calls " offences " should abound. Imagine, if you
can, any boy regarding a companion as a child of God, and
then deliberately proposing something which he knows must
spoil him — leading him into some bad habit, trying to
practise on his ignorance, and to make him as bad as
himself. I want you to see how very far this part of our
subject is from being unpractical even in so young a society
as our own. That glorious title, " children of God," which
must, one would think, be the highest boast of angels and
archangels, is one which may easily shape our daily con
duct towards each other. The more we can feel its truth,
the more we shall get rid of all our characteristic faults, the
more gentle and noble will be our life.
But this privilege of being God's children is clearly one
which is not limited by earth. "God is not the God of the
dead, but of the living." A child of God cannot die for

"IT DOTH NOT YET APPEAR." 153
ever. Nothing can take him out of his Father's hands.
Wherever he is, he must be about his Father's business. If
he sleep for a time, it will be to gather fresh strength for
ampler service. " If he sleep, he shall do well j"1 or if he
enter at once on some fresh period of growth, of this at least
faith assures us, that it must be growth towards God and not
away from Him. By some means, in some sphere of being,
the child must be drawing nearer to his heavenly Father.
What is to be the nature of that growth or of that new
sphere of being we know, indeed, but little. Experience
is, of course, no guide. " Never yet was it set fully forth,"
so St. John tells us, "what we shall be." In vain with
those daring thoughts of ours, which "wander through
eternity," we seek to pierce the veil, and to imagine the
life that begins when this feeble, transitory life is over.
In vain as to the result : perhaps not altogether in vain as
to the comfort and the elevation of soul which attend these
solemn self-questionings.
No change can ever destroy our identity. We shall at
least ever be ourselves ; but purified, enlarged, strengthened,
glorified in a manner and to a degree which we cannot even
conjecture. Growth there certainly must be ; for even the
holiest spirit and the grandest intellect when they bid fare
well to earth have, as they are themselves aware, but learnt
the first letters of the knowledge of God. For them even a
stupendous growth must be awaiting ; and how much more
for the millions of untrained souls, the heathen, the utterly
ignorant, the infants, the sin-stained, the late penitents, who
when they quitted this life of the body were almost, if
not quite, strangers to the very name of God. And then,
we are tempted to ask, will this growth be rapid and in
stantaneous, or, according to the analogy of most of God's
works, very slow and gradual ? Will it be a new creation,
or a further developing process ? Shall we be conscious of
it, or unconscious ? Will it be, as here, by the aid of holy
example, or only by direct inspiration from the Spirit of
God? Will it be modified, ts here, by degrees of intel-
1 John xi. 12.

154 " IT DOTH NOT YET APPEAR."
lectual power, or will slowness of mental gifts " no more
control the sacred passions of the soul " ? Shall we then
be able to help each other forward? Will those who on
earth have turned many to righteousness find now no special
task of a similar charity ? Or will there be, from apostle
and prophet and feeble child and ignorant peasant alike,
under the influence of a sudden and equal illumination, one
universal, all-pervading efflux of adoration ; ' God ' — now
" all in all" even in this sense — superseding all lower
agencies, no longer working through human instruments, no
longer thwarted and limited by their incompetence and
infirmity, but equally, from the mouth of babes and suck
lings, from old men and children, from ignorant and learned,
from apostle and from penitent, perfecting a hitherto un-
imagined praise ?
Such thoughts, necessarily vague as they are, but it is
hoped not wanting in reverence, seem to have a voice of
comfort in cases of what we venture to call premature death,
The little child is called away almost as soon as it is born.
Such cases are to be reckoned in millions. The scythe of
death is there most busy. There has been no time, we say
in our conventional language, to learn anything of God and
Christ. Those wonderful faculties that were enshrined in
that delicate form were destined never to be developed.
Not indeed on earth, where the development would at
best have been stunted and petty, but somewhere else we
cannot doubt. Nay, it may well be that to the Divine
mind the difference of spiritual attainment between the
little child that dies in an hour, and the aged saint that has
walked humbly with his God for threescore years, is abso
lutely as nothing compared with the interval that separates
them both from the higher knowledge to which death is the
entrance. In either case the growth must be infinitely great.
What need to remember that the one starting-point was a
little in advance of the other, when the distance from the
goal is in either case immeasurable?
Or death may have come»by surprise, when it seemed to
the survivors even harder to bear; not, as in the case of

" IT DOTH NOT YET APPEAR." 155
infants, when no clue, no promise, had been given as to the
direction that the life might take ; but when life had been
granted long enough perhaps to suggest boundless hopes,
long enough to exhibit rare powers already asserting their
claim to serve God nobly on this earth.
Of the loss to the survivors or to the world we will not
speak: but to the "child of God" himself who has been
summoned early to his Father's presence, who can doubt
but that "to die is gain"? Who dares to think that his
growth is arrested, and not infinitely hastened and enlarged ?
The difference between what he was now on the day of his
death, and what he would have been sixty years later, is
as nothing compared with the gulph between the highest
possible earthly attainment and the " new life " on which he
has just entered. His growth is carried on beyond the grave
rather than on this side ; and who will suppose that in that
divine climate it is less healthy, less beautiful, or less rapid ?
" It doth not yet appear what we shall be." Thought fails
us in trying to conceive of this splendid growth that awaits
us after death, when by God's mercy the lowliest among us
will be " something far advanced in state," with a divinely-
granted work adjusted to his renewed powers. This only
we know, as the climax and consummation of all, that we
shall be " like God," for we shall see Him as He is. We,
my brethren, shall be like God ; for we shall see Him as
He is. "He is in heaven and we upon earth ; therefore
let our words be few." 1
The sight of God is likeness to God. None but man
can see man as he is. The animal creation cannot. They
see his outward form, but their conception of him is alto
gether limited, and therefore erroneous. They do not see
him as he is. They know nothing of his mind and spirit.
If they did, they must be like him.
But man, because he is the child of God, created in God's
image, and re-created by Christ's victory over death, is like
God, and can therefore see God; can grow into a know
ledge of His nature, can grasp with ever increasing adora
tion the purposes of the Divine mind.
1 Eccles. v. 2.

156 "IT DOTH NOT YET APPEAR."
And to these high powers, my brethren, you and I are
called ; you and I, with all our petty earth-bound selfishness,
our dwarfish intellects, our countless sins and pollutions.
To these high and glorious powers in spite of all we are
called. That we may learn by slow degrees to fulfil them
worthily, this life of ours was given ; and God became man
that He might show us what life was meant to be.
Oh that we could here — in our work, in our companion
ships, in our secret, solitary moments, when for some perhaps
temptation is most terrible — that we could remember the
end; God seen as He is — seen erewhile "in His noble
acts", seen now "according to His excellent greatness."1
Truly a mighty change must pass over body and soul alike
before this " far off divine event " can be realized by such
as we are. But it is just this change of which revelation
assures us — that mighty change which has once more to-day
been sounded in our ears by those words of hope which
have cheered so many desolate hearts by the side of so
many graves. "Behold, I show you a mystery: We shall
not all sleep ; but we shall all," living and dead, alike, " be
changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the
last trump : for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall
be raised incorruptible, and we " — the living — •" shall be
changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption,
and this mortal must put on immortality. So when this
corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal
shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to
pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in
victory. O death, where is thy sting ? O grave, where is
thy victory ? The sting of death is sin ; and the strength
of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which giveth us
the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."2
i Psalm cl. 2.
2 I Cor. xv. 51 — 57. This chapter is the evening lesson for Sep
tember 30th.
September 30, 1866.

SERMON XX.
ENGLAND EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY.
St. Luke xvii. 10.
" So likewise ye, when ye shall have done all those things which are com
manded you, say, We are unprofitable servants : we have done that
which was our duty to do. "
Psalm xliv. I.
1 ' We have heard with our ears, 0 God, our fathers have told us, what
Thou hast done in their time of old."
The word duty is very dear to Englishmen. Every great
nation has some ideas to which it is especially devoted, and
it is an unspeakable blessing that duty is one of ours. To
have done his duty faithfully is perhaps the highest praise
that each man covets for himself, or for the eminent men to
whom the government of the country is at any time en
trusted. We are never tired of repeating, that throughout
the dispatches of our great general you scarcely ever find any
allusion to military glory, but that again and again homage is
paid to duty. One of the most truly heroic of our Indian
soldiers and statesmen, who died at his post during the great
mutiny, desired that his grave might bear the simple in
scription, " Here lies Henry Lawrence, who tried to do his
duty." And once more, when, as on this day sixty-one years
ago, the greatest naval victory of England was gained,1 the
1 The battle of Trafalgar, October 2ist, 1805.

158 ENGLAND EXPECTS E VER Y MAN
same idea, as every one knows, was paramount in the mind
of our noble-hearted leader. Before a shot was fired, he
reminded his fleet, " England expects every man to do his
duty." Soon afterwards he was heard to say, " I thank God
for this great opportunity of doing my duty." And lastly,
when the fatal shot had been fired, and his life was fast
ebbing, his latest words, again and again repeated, were,
" Thank God I have done my duty."
The recurrence of this great anniversary has suggested to
me the topic on which I desire to speak this evening — the
grandeur of this idea of duty ; the form which it ought to
wear to the mind of a Christian ; the power which it ought
to exercise in a place like this.
And first, I cannot prevail upon myself to pass over the
splendid example which is set to all who call themselves
Christians by the ideal, at least, of those two professions to
which the protection of our country is specially entrusted.
Many of you look forward to being soldiers hereafter. It
.may be that some unworthy thoughts have mingled with
your expectation — thoughts of being admired, and living a
gay, careless life; nay, perhaps of allowing yourselves a licence
which in other professions would be more severelycondemned.
Every profession has its own peculiar dangers ; and no doubt
that of an English officer in time of peace offers sad
temptations to frivolity and vice which our statesmen and
generals ought to diminish by every contrivance in their
power. There is a wide field here open to Christian
reformers, and some of you, I trust, may labour in it
hereafter. But meanwhile, have you ever thought of the
truly noble side of the military profession ; that which makes
us so deservedly proud of it ; that which often makes us feel
" it is not far from the kingdom of God " ? Have you ever
reflected what contempt is felt even by men of the world for
an officer who shirks his duty; who prides himself on
getting through his appointed work with the least possible
exertion ; who is disobedient to his orders ; who is addicted
to falsehood, or any form of dishonesty; who shows want
of personal courage ; who shrinks from the exercise of re-

TO DO HIS DUTY. 159
sponsibility ; who is indifferent to the honour of his regiment
or his division; who is not ready at any moment to give
up, not as a matter of merit, but as a matter of course,
comfort, and friends, and health, and life itself at the call of
his country ? The belief that this high standard is accepted
by every soldier, and really acted up to by the majority, is
what makes us so proud of our army, and inspires in us the
longing to do all we can to make it still better, and to raise
its standard of private conduct to its already high standard
of public duty. Assuredly any statesman would deserve well
of his country who could by wise foresight and sensible recog
nition of plain facts, make it easier for English soldiers to be
as pure as they are loyal, and as intelligent as they are brave.
But meanwhile, what Christian man does not thankfully
acknowledge that what the country requires from them in
their public capacity is something very lofty and very
difficult to find elsewhere ? I would ask in all simplicity
whether in any other department of life, except the army
and navy when in face of the enemy, " England expects
every man to do his duty."
Does she expect every clergyman to do his duty? Perhaps
we may say now, what certainly could not have been said
thirty years ago, that she expects him to be energetic, and
to keep free from gross vice and from distinctively worldly
amusements. But does she expect him to be well-informed,
and self-denying, and temperate in judgment, and free from
class prejudices, and ready to sympathize with all the poor —
not only with the submissive and respectful, but with those
who are sceptical, irreverent, and disaffected ?
Or again, does she expect every rich man to do his duty,
crying shame upon those whose lives are one long round of
luxury and self-indulgence, without even a passing thought
that their wealth was given them to heal the sores of the
land, and that for the discharge of this high duty God, if
not yet their country, will bring them into judgment ? 1
Or again, does England expect every member of Parliament
to do his duty ? Or does she wickedly shut her eyes to the
1 Eccles. xi. 9.

160 ENGLAND EXPECTS EVERY MAN
way in which he too often enters upon his really sacred
functions? When with good-natured cynicism he scatters
his gold in corrupting and debasing those lowest poor whose
degradation is her shame, does she brand him, or does she
laugh ? Does she resent the insult, and treat the offender
as a criminal, or does she rather connive at his fashionable
excesses, and almost pity him when he is detected ?
Or lastly — for I want to bring this matter very closely
home — does England expect boys such as yourselves, does
she expect every boy at a public school to do his duty ? Or
must we not confess that she is far too ready to expect from
the sons of her highest class little more than gentle manners
and high spirit; tolerating far more than she ought those
great enemies of duty, idleness and ignorance and extrava^
gance ; encouraging the delusion that mere bodily skill and
activity can in these solemn days of ours be a substitute for
mental cultivation ; and refusing to include in her idea of a
gentleman intelligence and consciousness of obligation and
a willingness to work for the poor and neglected ?
Here are a few instances in which I think it cannot be
doubted that England does not yet expect every man to do
his duty. She expects it from her soldiers and her sailors,
but she does not yet expect it from her children at large.
In other words, public opinion still tolerates many gross
abuses and grievous shortcomings, and we, like all our
countrymen, suffer morally by this low standard.
But need I remind you, my brethren, that what England
may not yet expect from us, our God most certainly does
expect ? If our education here is of any value, it should
teach us year by year to aim higher ; to see more possible
duties ; to see that many things which we once thought
venial are really wrong, and that some things which we once
thought too high for us are of imperative obligation, and
cannot be evaded without dishonour and disobedience to
God. Think for a few moments of what we really mean
when we speak of doing our duty. It means that we
recognize in all that lies before us a right and a wrong ; an
opportunity of pleasing God, and an opportunity of stifling

TO DO HIS DUTY. 161

His voice, which sounds clearly if not loudly in our ears.
It means also that we accept this right as a sacred and
authoritative thing ; and that the moment we become aware
of it, we close our ears and eyes to all other sights and
sounds, however tempting, and, "because right is right," set
ourselves stedfastly to " follow right," be the consequences
what they may.
Consequently, to do our duty is to bid farewell to a life of
mere impulse and self-pleasing ; to put to ourselves habitually
and instinctively the question, not What do I wish to do,
what should I like to do, but what ought I to do — what
does God expect from me, He who has given me a con
science, and bade' me train it and enlighten it, and always
without hesitation obey its dictates ?
It may, perhaps, have occurred to some of you that in
saying this I am thinking specially of those who are
about to be confirmed. If Confirmation means anything,
it means that a boy wishes henceforward to lead defi
nitely a life of duty. If he has hitherto followed pleasure
rather than duty, he wishes to do so no longer. If he has
hitherto lived for himself rather than for others, he wishes
now to change. If he has shrunk from doing what was
right from fear of being thought singular, or from fear of
anything, he wishes now to be brave. Still more, if he has
sinned against his conscience by bad language, or deceit, pr
evil acts of any kind, now is the time, unless his coming
forward is a mere pretence, from which he wishes to date
an entire, an absolute reform. Henceforward he knows that
in an especial manner God expects him to do his duty, and
he responds to the call with gladness and hope.
But then, if he do indeed submit his whole heart to the
Holy Spirit of God, he will soon find that duty has for a
Christian a very wide range. It applies not only to his public
but his private conduct ; not his outward acts only, but his
inward life. It is his duty to give battle, with all the skill
and strength that he can summon to his standard, to all the
unkind thoughts and selfish dreams and impure imaginations
that have at any time singly or in combination made war
M

162 ENGLAND EXPECTS EVERY MAN, ETC.
upon his soul., It is his duty to inform himself accurately as
to the power of these enemies, and as to the means which
God has provided for their overthrow. It is his duty to use
these means, and that with vigour and persistence ; not
content with imperfect victories, but bent upon a thorough
conquest ; not, like the King of Israel in the presence of
Elisha, smiting thrice and then staying, but repeating the
blow again and again till the enemy are destroyed.1
This, my brethren, is the duty which Christ our Master
expects from us all ; the duty of thorough self-conquest ; of
bringing every thought and imagination into captivity to
Him ; the duty also of loving Him with a single, loyal love,
and serving Him, as men serve their country, with all their
heart, and with all their mind, and with all their soul, and
with all their strength.
Those of you who feel in some measure the magnificence
of such a service, pray God to enable you to render it here.
Pray that every one among us in this army of God may with
all his might, as in the sight of his Leader, do that special
duty which God expects from him. Pray too for all who at
any time leave us, that this noble attachment to duty may
never be sapped by prosperity, or dulled by disappointment.
And with these prayers for ourselves let us not, on this
anniversary of our purest victory, forget to mingle prayers
for our country. Let us ask that every year she may expect
more of her servants to do their duty without reproach, and
that they may respond to her appeal. Let us learn a lesson
from our gallant soldiers and sailors. When Nelson put
forth his last famous signal, " it was received," we are told,
" throughout the fleet with a shout of answering acclamation,
made sublime by the spirit which it breathed."2 Oh that
year by year, with ever increasing intelligence, more and
more English hearts may leap at the truly divine summons :
" England expects every man to do his duty."
1 2 Kings xiii. 18, 19.
, 2 See Southey's Life of Nelson.
October 21, 1866.

SERMON XXI.
A SOFT ANSWER.
Prov. xv. I.
"A soft answer turneth away wrath."
One of the questions addressed by the Bishop to those
who are about to receive Priests' Orders is as follows :
" Will you maintain and set forwards, as much as lieth in
you, quietness, peace, and love, among all Christian people,
and especially among them that are or shall be committed
to your charge?" The answer is, "I will so do, the Lord
being my helper." To fulfil that promise must often be a
hard thing. In a parish, for instance, torn by petty
jealousies, where the inmates of certain families are not
on speaking terms with those of others ; in a town embit
tered by political animosities; in a diocese desolated by
that most humiliating of all causes of dissension, that
" theological hatred " which has passed into a proverb,
the fairness of which we cannot deny; in societies of this
kind, who does not see that it must indeed be a hard task
for a minister of Christ to keep his Ordination vow, en
deavouring, as best he may, to inculcate the very alphabet
of his Master's teaching, " endeavouring to keep the unity
of the Spirit in the bond of peace"?
But our business is with ourselves. In a large society
like ours, where passions run high and lips move freely, and
many of the artificial restraints which bind older people
are not yet imposed, an exhortation to that simple thing
M 2

164 A SOFT ANSWER.
Christian charity can seldom be altogether out of place.
However little we may suspect it, there are pretty sure to
be in this congregation some hearts which are not " in perfect
charity with all men," not secretly " in honour preferring one
another;" not honestly " each esteeming other better than
himself;" but more or less disturbed by some half-acknow
ledged grudge, or perhaps smarting from a sense of wrong,
not the less keenly felt because it was certainly not intended.
My brethren, it is a very hard thing to live through a
month without being unkind and angry. Some of you may
be blessed with tempers of such rare sweetness that it costs
you hardly an effort to keep down unkind thoughts. Nay,
yqu perhaps find it absolutely easier to disbelieve than to
believe that any one can possibly have done you an injury.
For such as you God has a special work to do for Him,
the work of healing divisions, of breathing, I might almost
say of looking, peace wherever you go ; and this blessed
work has begun already, perhaps without your knowing it.
It is owned at your homes, it is owned in your houses here,
it is what your friends delight to think of. If God were
suddenly to take you to Himself by death, that would be
the peculiar, the thrice-blessed legacy which your short life
would have left to the Christian Church.
But tempers so calm and sweet are rare ; and perhaps we
may say, without disparaging their value or their beauty,
that it is not to these to which we naturally look for the
most conspicuous services in the cause of God. Their
province is to heal, to calm, to sweeten life ; but perhaps
it is from more fiery, yes, and more turbulent natures, that
we must expect the initiative in works of good.
Be that as it may, it can cost most of us very little to
acknowledge that our own hearts are not those temples of
peace in which the sound of strife is never or seldom heard.
Faults of temper, harshness of judgment, inconsiderateness
in giving offence, unwillingness to admit that we have been
in the wrong, these surely are the defects, yes, and if
Christianity be true, the grievous sins which clog our pas
sage heavenward, and make our efforts to live Christian

A SOFT ANSWER. 165
lives such a tangled mass of inconsistencies. " A word
spoken in due season, how good is it." 1 So we were reminded
in the First Lesson of this morning. This congregation must
be very different from most, if a few words on Christian
" quietness, peace, and love " are words in season to none.
The Book of Proverbs shall be our special guide in
thinking of this subject, but we will not forget that a
greater than Solomon has said, " By this shall all men
know that ye are My disciples," not by your energy, your
zeal, your hatred of meanness, or the brilliancy of your
gifts, but " if ye have love one to another." 2 ,
" A soft answer turneth away wrath." Some provocation,
you see, is pre-supposed : some one, as the phrase is, has
or fancies he has a grievance. Such grievances must arise
in our common life. Let us admit it. In this sense, " it
must be that offences come." Something throws us off our
balance. A word is spoken, or written, or there is some
hasty look which we should be glad to recall. We had, it is
true, no intention to wound ; no deliberate intention, that
is. We cannot honestly charge ourselves with malice. Be
sides, we may honestly think that the person attacked was
in the wrong, and had to some extent deserved the reproach
which he received. In any case the blow has been struck.
It has given pain. We can see that it is felt, and deeply,
if not bitterly, resented. That resentment may show itself
either by silence or by retort. Moody natures will choose
the one ; passionate, fiery natures will choose the other.
What an opening then is there here for our putting in
practice Solomon's wise and truly Christian proverb : " A
soft answer turneth away wrath." A soft answer : a tone, a
look may be enough ; but more often, of course, it will be
in word or in writing. It may be simply an apology : "I
was wrong. I did not intend it. I hope you will forgive
me." Or it may be an explanation, showing that words
have been misunderstood; pointing out how they were
used, what was the train of thought that led up to them,
what a mistake it is to suppose that they contained any
1 Prov. xv. 23. 2 John xiii. 35.

i66 A SOFT ANSWER.

hidden sting; how heartily they were regretted the moment
it was discovered that they had given offence.
An answer of this kind, if our proverb be true, " turneth
aWay wrath." What does our own experience say ? Is it not
strange what, a sudden revulsion of feeling ensues if any one
answers with gentleness, still more if he answers with an
expression of genuine sorrow, some reproach to which we
had given utterance? How in a moment all "wrath" is
forgotten ; how, as the saying is, we are at once "disarmed."
The weapons that were still, as it were, uplifted in act to
strike ; the weapons that we had sharpened and polished so
carefully, and on the dexterous and graceful use of which we
prided ourselves so unconsciously ; the weapons, I mean,
of sarcasm, or lofty superiority, or towering indignation —
suddenly these fall to the ground blunted and pointless, and,
what is more surprising, we rejoice to think that they are
Utterly useless. We are half amused and much more
ashamed at having ever supposed that there was need of
such warlike demonstrations.
And what is the cause of the honest pleasure which we
feel ? Let us be just to ourselves. It is not simply that an
unpleasantness is removed, or that we can act together freely
and cheerfully; still less is it a secret feeling of gratified
pride because our opponent has by his apology virtually
conceded that we were in the right. It is a far nobler senti
ment than this ; it is the instantaneous feeling, rather than
the cold conclusion, that one of whom we for the first time
thought badly is better than we thought ; that he is a friend,
and not an enemy ; that he does not forget, any more than
we now forget, the courtesies and kindliness and mutual
respect of past months or past years ; in a word, he re
appears in the light in which we had hitherto always
regarded him ; and where there is a belief in another's
goodness, there is no room for dislike or contempt.
And along with this feeling is another yet more sacred
— the feeling of compunction for having been so hasty
and so harsh. We see that he did not merit so sweep
ing a condemnation. It fills us with wonder to think

A SOFT ANSWER. 167

how completely we allowed ourselves to be blinded ; how,
as in a moment, we shut out of view, with scarcely a mis
giving that we were guilty of unfairness, all that might have
told in his favour ; how precipitately we assumed the worst ;
how little allowance we made for misconception, for the
possibility on his part of some generous impulse to resent
ment, or for infirmities of temper similar to those which we
now recognize in ourselves. All this humbles us at the
very moment that we are admitted to have been in the
right. The more complete our justification, the more
poignant are our self-reproaches. A little more patience, a
little more of that charity " without which," we have been
taught to believe, " all our doings are nothing worth," nay,.
even a little silence, or a little inaction, would have pre
vented all the indignation and bitterness which are now seen
to have been so unfounded.
But if there be such pleasure, and such happiness too, in a
" soft answer," how is it that it is so hard to give it ? There
is one great obstacle to which all others may be reduced —
the obstacle of pride. When harsh words are addressed to
us which we feel to be unmerited, we cannot bring ourselves
to forego the delight of a successful retort. Still less can we
bear to admit that any part of the wrong is of our own
doing. It is true that pride disguises itself very cunningly,
so that even a high-minded Christian is misled by its craft.
Pride whispers to us, not that we have been insulted, but
that a wrong and mean thing has been done ; that this
requires exposure and rebuke ; that a resentment which
would have been culpable if drawn forth by a wrong done
to ourselves, becomes justifiable and even praiseworthy when
an act bad in itself has to be stigmatized. The result of this
sophistry is that we encourage ourselves in bitter feeling;
we persuade ourselves, like the discontented prophet, that
we " do well to be angry -,"1 we allow our thoughts to be
poisoned, our work to be embittered, our prayers to be
hindered, and persuade ourselves that this is right.
If these dangers are not imaginary, but apt to beset us
day by day, may we not be thankful for a familiar proverb
1 Jonah iv. 9.

1 68 A SOFT ANSWER.
which in words easy to be remembered, difficult to forget,
reminds us of the beauty, the peace, the happiness which
are the lot of a forgiving and gentle spirit ? "A soft answer
turneth away wrath " Let us try to remember this the next
time that a resentful word rises to our lips or to our pen.
It may be deserved, but it is better not to say it or to
write it : that can be done by others who have not been
" taught the truth as it is in Jesus." But for them there is " a
more excellent way." There is the " soft answer," which
cannot make matters worse; which may turn away wrath,
may evoke an unexpected magnanimity, may rivet again
half-severed friendships by a bond of union higher than
that of earth.
I have but two more remarks to make on this subject.
In the first place, I would remind all the older among you,
and specially those who are to be confirmed, that we soon
hope to kneel together at our Lord's Table, and to be par
takers — very many of us for the first time — of His spiritual
Body and Blood. At that Table the thought of personal
bitterness is simply shocking. In the light of that Holy
Presence we see the sin as it is. We dare not there call it a
defect, a foible, a venial infirmity of perhaps a noble mind :
" the remembrance of" it " is grievous unto us, the burden of"
it is "intolerable." If this be so, how large a part of our
preparation ought to lie in the endeavour — an endeavour
not always easy — -to forgive, to explain, perhaps to apologize,
and so to be " in perfect charity with all men."
And secondly, I would say, Remember the blessing pro
nounced upon the peacemakers. If you know, of a differ
ence, try to heal it ; try to heal it this night. Make it as
easy as possible for the past to be forgotten. Remove, if
you can, the stumbling-block which occasioned the offence.
You may fail, and receive for the time at least no thanks,
but you will have done a Christ-like act. No man or boy
ever repented of the endeavour to rekindle " quietness, peace,
and love" among friends who ought never to have been
parted. November 1 8, 1 866.

SERMON XXII.
GOD'S WONDERS.
Psalm cxix. 18.
" Open Thou mine eyes, that I may see the wondrous things oj Thy law."
The life of the soul has its wonders as well as the life of the
body and the life of nature. It is a complex and mysterious
thing. None but "opened eyes" can discern its marvellous
treasures ; and With them the further they see, the greater is
their wonder. We hear much, but never surely too much,
of the " wonders of creation." We know that wherever we
turn our eyes, upwards to the heavens, or downwards to the
stones and grasses of the soil, or round about us to the
various living creatures with which God has peopled the
earth and the air, everywhere there are to the instructed,
that is to the "opened" eye, wonders innumerable. The
wonders are there, always there, always ready to be dis
covered and marvelled at. If anything occurs to remove
the veil of ignorance which hangs over our eyes, we find
ourselves suddenly face to face with a new-created world.
We know the effect produced on our minds by applying
a microscope to a piece of moss or a shell, or a telescope
to a star. The sight sets us wondering at the prodigality of
power and wisdom and beauty which has been lavished
on the least as well as the greatest. What "a miracle of
design ! " How astonishingly minute ! How infinitely
magnificent ! are some of the vague feelings rather than

170 GOD'S WONDERS.
thoughts which crowd upon us when first with " opened
eyes " we look out on the field of God's manifold works.
These thoughts are very familiar, I suppose, to us all :
but perhaps we are not equally familiar with another thought,
that wonders no less intricate, mysteries no less insoluble,
surprises no less startling, are to be found in God's dealings
with the soul. Here too, in proportion to our insight, is our
wonder and our adoration. God's discipline, God's patience,
God's adjustment of men's powers and defects, God's
method of answering prayer or seeming to be deaf to it —
in these, and similar dealings we can, if we will, find ever
fresh food for wonder, if only He grants us the gift of a
teachable heart and an open eye.
On some few of these wonders I shall ask your attention
this evening, and then the more thoughtful among you
must follow out the subject for yourselves.
i. Think of that phenomenon so well known to all
Christians, God's strength made perfect in weakness. Some
times it is in- spite of man's weakness; sometimes it is
actually in consequence of it. Look among your friends
here, or into your own hearts. How often do we see, espe
cially in a young society like this, some character not
naturally strong in will, nor large of heart, nor fertile in
resources — with nothing in short of the qualifications of a
leader — and yet just because it is conscientious, and far more
if it has any real love for the Lord Jesus Christ, strong
enough to remain upright itself, and even to reform others.
And this is so— it is well to remember it for our comfort —
even if the weaknesses in question be something really bad,
as, for instance, timidity, or vanity, or even insincerity.
To a superficial view it would seem as though such blemishes
were fatal to anything like nobleness of character, and
must take away all power of doing good to others. And
so of course it is, if they are not bitterly repented of and
earnestly struggled against. But then they may be struggled
against ; and the wonderful thing is to see how God's strength
often takes hold of a weak character of this kind, and works
upon it His miracles of purification. Where the worldly

GOD'S WONDERS. 171

critic despairs the instructed Christian hopes. Boys who are,
perhaps, cramped and paralysed by vanity and self-con
sciousness, shake them off by coming into contact with real
responsibilities. They come to think less of themselves,
and more of their work. They cease to care what will "be
thought of them, and only long that their work may succeed.
And so even with insincerity, the greatest and saddest
flaw which can mar a human character. The superficial
observer says, "Nothing can be done here." Faults of
temper and of passion, and even of uncleanness, can be
checked, but for insincerity there is no cure. But the
observation which decides thus hastily is, I do not hesitate
to say, as uninstructed as it is gloomy. If we will but
look on character with " open eyes " instead of with the
ignorance of prejudice, we shall see that God's wonderful
power is most conspicuously shown in purifying a nature
originally wanting in sincerity. He humbles it. He exposes
it. He makes it despise itself. He makes it see the misery,
the short-sightedness, the impotence of all that is not
strictly and flawlessly true ; and by degrees He builds up
the love and the habit of frankness, the hatred of finesse,
the dread of adroitness, and all this mixed with a tender
sympathy for those to whom perfect uprightness does not
naturally come.
2. And then, again, consider another phenomenon in
God's discipline, the use which He makes of disappointment.
Is there no room for wonder here ? To a very young boy
disappointment is crushing and blinding. He cannot look
up or forwards. All seems blank. Everything and every
body seem set against him. He loses faith in himself. If
a religious boy, he fancies God has forsaken, or at least
for the time forgotten him. But when growing years, or a
riper Christian experience, or perhaps the timely suggestions
of some friend better acquainted with God than he is him
self, have at last " opened his eyes," he begins to discern
"wondrous things" in this divine law of disappointment.
He sees, and others perhaps see still more plainly, that that
was the rock on which his character was built ; that from

172 GOD'S WONDERS.

that failure dates all that is now best and most durable in
him ; that from that blind stupor of despondency, and
that sad eclipse of hope, God was preparing for him the
calm bright light of self-knowledge, a more painstaking
estimate of the extent and peculiar scope of his own powers,
and built upon this self-knowledge, a conviction that there
was a work for which he was fitted, and that God called
him to it.
I appeal with confidence to all those among you who
have striven, by the help of God, to lead serious and
Christian lives. Whatever your age, you will all, I am
convinced, feel that you owe more to failure than to success ;
that whatever good habits and resolutions God may have
planted in you, so that they now seem a part of yourselves,
have their foundation, if it could but be seen, in some past
disappointment and humiliation which you once could
scarcely bear to think of, so hopelessly did it sink you in
your own self-esteem.
3. Then, thirdly, dwell for a few moments on that other
wondrous thing of God's law — His permission of sin. We
cannot pretend to say why it is that God allows those whom
He formed in His own image and endowed with such
magnificent capacities to be born with a nature tainted
and poisoned. That in some way or other greater results,
results more conducive to God's glory, are brought about by
a sin-stained but redeemed world than would have been
possible had sin never entered into it, this we may reverently
believe, though we cannot presume to assert it positively.
But one thing we may venture to assert, if we look with
" open eyes " on ourselves and our fellow-creatures, that sin
is overruled into a trainer of righteousness. As from our
weaknesses we gather strength, so from our sins — easy as it
is to pervert the doctrine — we do undoubtedly develop our
moral nature, and learn to hate and condemn the very sins
which instruct us. Our own sins help us to estimate the
real power of evil ; to know how it attacks others ; to fathom
the depths of Satan ; to know how seductive it is ; to make
allowance for "them that fall;" to discover, by patient

GOD'S WONDERS. 173

observation and prayers for Divine guidance, the best
practical means for the restoration and the ultimate security
of ourselves, and of those whom we would fain assist.
There are few more " wondrous things " in the moral world
than to trace how a good man has been trained by his
own sins, or rather let me say, trained by the Holy Spirit
of God through the permitted instrumentality of his own
personal sins. Without those sins, we can conceive of him
as a pure and innocent being ; but we cannot conceive of
him as what he now is, a man strong through victory, a
powerful spiritual wrestler, a living monument of the trans
forming power of the Holy Ghost, and so an encourage
ment to others who are still tied and bound by the chain of
their sins.
4. And then, once more, if we look at the method by
which God works His plans of improvement, may we not
find abundant cause for reverent wonder? Think of His
patience, His choice of feeble instruments — " God," it has
been said, "loves to build upon nothing"1 — His choice too of
unexpected, and, as we should have thought, inappropriate
means to work out His own ends; His discouragement
sometimes of the higher agencies, and apparent preference
for the lower.
I have sometimes before referred to those profound
words of St. Paul, the application of which is so infinitely
various : " Not that first which is spiritual, but that which
is natural; and afterward that which is spiritual."2 Here
surely, if our eyes are open, we see one of the " won
drous things" of God's law, one of its paradoxes, one of
its surprises.
Let us apply it in one particular which touches very
closely our life here. Our object here ought to be to give,
and your object ought to be to receive, a true Christian
education. How easily we repeat the words ; but how
infinitely difficult is the execution of this task for us all, for
you and for us alike. How easily may direct religious
1 Montalembert, in " The Monks of the West :" Life of Benedict.
2 I Cor. xv. 46.

1 74 GOD'S. WONDERS.

teaching defeat its own object. We want to make the Lord
Jesus Christ loved and honoured. That is our aim, nothing
lower. But as to the means of attaining it, it may be that
silence on religious subjects, absence of systematic watch
fulness, nay even outdoor occupations and amusements,
may, at certain stages of life, and with certain characters,
be better ambassadors for Christ than sermons, or religious
conversations, or even frequent attendance at the Table of
the Lord. Again and again God seems to remind us of the
danger of appealing prematurely and promiscuously to the
very highest Christian principles. There is a value in
reserve which the young are not slow to appreciate. The love
of Christ, the fear of "grieving" or the dread of "quenching"
His Holy Spirit, are no doubt far higher motives for diligence,
truthfulness, and purity, than a wish to please a master, or
ambition, or honour, or fastidiousness. Higher undoubtedly,
but perhaps not first in order. God, for whose service all
is done, often visibly discomfits the " higher " agencies, and
throws us back upon the lower, the rougher, the more
elementary. He recognizes the bodily, the earthly parts of
human nature. He values growth rather than result.
Nothing forced, premature, in any sense "unnatural," can
really be acceptable to Him.
And so we might go on trying to discover the laws by
which God trains and governs our hearts. If we do, we
shall find ourselves in a land of wonders. Our own precon
ceptions will constantly have to be corrected. Our favourite
theories will constantly have to be set aside. We shall find
good where we expected evil, and evil where we expected
good. We shall never believe that God can be baffled.
We shall have seen with our eyes, feeble as they are, such
abundant proofs of His watchfulness for our souls, and of
His presence with His Church, that we shall never despair
of the triumph of good even when it seems most beset with
clouds. In the words of the Christian poet,1 whose own
faith was so often overclouded by despondency and disease :

1 Cowper.

GOD'S WONDERS. 175

' ' Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will."
This conviction will be near and dear to us in proportion
as we seek to know Him and to be His devoted children.
We shall ask for the open eye of children, that we may be
able to trace Him where others see Him not ; or else for
the quiet faith of children, which believes that their Father
is near even in the dark. Wonder and admiration are
among the chief inlets by which He makes known His
power and His love. Nowhere, I think, do we feel more
vividly the true apostolic inspiration of St. Paul, than when-
after tracing the strange course of God's Providence in first
casting away His chosen people in order that He might
receive them again pardoned and believing — he, the great
Apostle, concludes this high argument with a burst of
childlike wonder and adoration: "O the depth of the
riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God ! How
unsearchable are His judgments, and His ways past finding
out ! For of Him, and through Him, and to Him are all
things : to whom be glory for ever. Amen." x
1 Rom. xi. 33, 36.
November 25. 1866.

SERMON XXIII.
UNBELIEF OF LIFE,
Psalm xlviii. 13.
' ' lor this God is our God for ever and ever. He shall be our guiae
¦unto death."
The host of Sennacherib had been destroyed. The terror
which for so long had paralysed the Holy City was in a
moment removed. The people again breathed freely, and
the triumphant psalm which we have this evening sung was
the expression at once of their patriotic pride and their
deep thankfulness to God. The two thoughts are insepar
ably intertwined : " Great is the Lord and highly to be
praised ; in the city of our God, even upon His holy hill.
The hill of Sion is a fair place, and the joy of the whole
earth : God is well known in her palaces as a sure refuge."
Such a city, so gloriously delivered, is worth our love and
admiration. " Walk about Sion, and go round about her ;
and tell the towers thereof," those towers so lately threatened
and now such conspicuous monuments of God's mercy."
" Mark well her bulwarks, consider her palaces, that ye may
tell them that come after. For this God is our God for
ever and ever. He shall be our guide unto death."
Such was the original force of these well-known words.
Strange that they should be so natural an expression of all
that is deepest in our hearts to-day ! But so it always is
with the Scriptures. They speak to the conscience and to
the heart. And therefore it is that their voice is ever new

UNBELIEF OF LIFE. 177
and searching, not exhausted by the changes of centuries,
but adapting themselves with startling appropriateness to
the special needs of to-day. Three years ago an aged
Archbishop lay on his dying bed. He was one of the
clearest and closest if not of the profoundest thinkers of
his day. As one of his friends read to him the second
chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews, he was much moved,
and said, " Every chapter in the Bible you read seems as
if it were written on purpose for me."1
It is a thought which must have occurred to thousands,
and never surely more than when they read the Psalms.
You will all feel at once of what and of whom I am think
ing when, speaking as it were on your behalf, I repeat once
more the words of devotion : " This God is our God for
ever and ever. He shall be our guide unto death."
The service of last Wednesday,2 and the Holy Com
munion of to-day, what did they mean ? They meant that
we took God for our own God ; that we consecrated our
whole lives to Him ; that in spite of all our weaknesses and
pollutions we gave Him, and we asked Him to accept for
His Son's sake, the best we could give,, our hearts and our
poor services, " ourselves, our souls and bodies," and this
for ever. Not for a solemn occasion only, not for the days
of our youth only, not for times of sorrow only when even
the most worldly feels the need of a living God, but for
ever and ever, through " all the changes and chances of this
mortal life," and further still. God does not leave us when
the breath quits our body. There is an " ever" beyond that
moment of death's triumph. " My flesh and my heart
faileth : but God is the strength of my heart, and my por
tion for ever."3
This God is " our God." The God whom we have known,
and whom we have hoped and tried to serve hitherto, it is
He whom we hope to have as our own to the end. He, and
no other. He, "and unchanged. We shall change, but not He.
1 See Life of Archbishop Whately, vol. ii. p. 416.
2 The Confirmation Day. 3 Psalm lxxiii.
N

178 UNBELIEF OF LIFE.
As the years pass, and our minds grow, and responsibilities
press upon us, our thoughts of Him will in part change.
Some things which now seem simple may appear to be among
the "wondrous things" of His "law" which we in vain try
to decipher. Things which now seem hard will, under the
light of a riper experience, appear natural and easy. But
though our conceptions will vary, He will be still the same.
Truly He will "fulfil Himself" to us, "in many ways"; —
sometimes in sorrow, sometimes in happiness. Sometimes
a home will be broken up, and health be shattered, and
our means of usefulness will be taken from us, and H,e who
was to us the animating guide of our hopes and our labours
will become instead the soother of our regrets and the
sustainer of our apparent uselessness. Still it will be the
same God that we now know and wish to serve ; the same,
only altering His discipline and His remedies with perfect
wisdom and perfect love.
So we say now, and we say it from our hearts. It is
the language of faith, confirmed indeed in part by the
experience of others, but in the main the language of child
like confidence. All that we have ever been allowed to
learn of God's nature satisfies us that He will not desert us,
but that He will ever be the same. But is it equally certain
that we shall never desert Him 1 Will all those who knelt at
Christ's Table to-day be able to say five years hence, twenty
years hence, with equally unclouded loyalty, " This God, this
Saviour, is still mine, only known now by a wider and more
cogent proof. He shall be my God for ever and ever. What
I have since learnt of His guidance proves to me its suffi
ciency. He shall be my guide unto death?" This is. the
question that I would ask you to think of this evening.
Shall I remain steadfast? Will my loyalty last? Is the
Communion of to-day the first in a long unbroken chain of
communions, linked closely with common life, and bind
ing me each year faster to my Saviour?
The danger which besets us all is the danger of which the
Holy Spirit was sent to "convince the world," the danger
of unbelief. But then remember, unbelief may be of two

UNBELIEF OF LIFE. 179
kinds ; there is the unbelief of the intellect, and there is the
unbelief of the life. We hear much of the first ; of the last
we hear but little. Yet it may safely be said, that where
unbelief of the intellect slays its tens, unbelief of the life
slays its ten thousands.
How is it possible for me, looking at a congregation such
as this, knowing the various stations of professional, of
commercial, or of fashionable life in which you will soon be
placed — how is it possible for me to suppose that your chief
temptation to forsake your Saviour will come through the
intellect? It is not so. These temptations come to the
few. They are very terrible and very sad. They demand
much sympathy, much patience, wise, timely, discriminating
counsel. Perhaps we may say, there are few in these days
capable of rendering it in tones which command attention.
But we must shut our eyes to facts and be led astray by
names if we fail to- see that for the great majority among
you the unbelief which you have to face is one of a very
different kind. I call it the unbelief of life. Is it riot
unbelief in Christ to live a commonplace, worldly, self-
indulgent life, a life without God in the world, not, indeed,
denying God, not entertaining or professing to entertain a
shadow of a doubt on any fragment of a Christian doctrine,
but living as if for the purpose of showing that those
doctrines have no value ?
Is it not unbelief when a clergyman gives himself up to
religious party, denounces his opponents, neglects private
Sprayer, cares not to add to his meagre stores of knowledge
of the Scriptures, leaves large sections of his parishioners
uncared for, or performs his duties as a mere matter of
routine ?
Again, is it not unbelief, think you, when an officer in the
army, one who has been confirmed as you have been, and
knelt at the Lord's Table, "becomes a mere lounger and
idler, hears bad language, knows of wicked practices on the
part of his companions, yet never dares to condemn them
on the ground that they are utterly abhorrent to the Spirit
of_Christ ? N 2

I So UNBELIEF OF LIFE.
Or, once more, is it not unbelief when men in business
pursue their calling, tas is so often the case, without any
reference to the laws of honour or morality, not scrupling
to secure in the way of business an advantage which in
their private relations they would scorn ?
Indeed, indeed, the root of all this worldliness and
hollowness is unbelief in a holy God and a risen Saviour,
and a vivifying Spirit of holiness. The creed of such men,
correct though it be, is of little value. God sees more
faith, more belief, in the errors of many a sceptic than in
their flawless orthodoxy, because His eye is turned upon
the heart, upon the affections ; and in His judgment belief
means the state of one who tries to " hold fast by God," and
unbelief is the state or no-state of one who lives virtually
"without God in the world."
How can you doubt that it is to this kind of unbelief,
the unbelief of life, the unbelief which denounces unbe
lievers, and lives without Christian energy or Christian
charity, that, most of you, my brethren, will be tempted?
You can in some measure judge already. You know some
thing of society. Does it seem in the main Christian ? Do
the persons who are a little older than yourselves appear to
care much for God, or is it mainly for themselves ? If' you
feel that the tone of most of the companions and most of
the society, and I might well add most of the literature,
which you have known is essentially worldly, do you think
that their want of belief is due to perplexities of the intel
lect, or to unsoundness of the heart ? You cannot doubt
You know it is the last. You feel, too, that is the shoal on
which, if on any, your own vessel is likely to be wrecked.
You will be tempted, sorely tempted, to become mere men
of the world ; men of fashion, not very wicked, not very
profligate, but cold, frivolous, thoughtless of Jesus Christ
and of His struggling cause on earth, and of all to which
your Baptism, your Confirmation, and your noblest longings
of to-day irrevocably pledged you ; the memory of Con
firmation losing each year its sacred solemnity, attendance
at the Lord's Table being gradually discarded, or degene-

UNBELIEF OF LIFE. , 181
rating into a superstitious form. And all this very gradually.
The allegory for our day is not, at least for the majority,
Bunyan's noble allegory of Doubting Castle inhabited by
Giant Despair. For most of us unbelief takes subtler, more
seductive, less terrifying forms. The smooth slope, leading
almost imperceptibly to the slough of selfishness ; the
noiseless current bearing the unsuspecting vessel to the
inevitable whirlpool ; the unseen miasma slowly poisoning
the atmosphere and dimming the eyes of the soul; or,
according to the poet's fearful " Vision of Sin," the
" Vapour heavy, hueless, formless, cold,
Coming floating on for many a month and year,

such are the figures which seem to shadow forth for most
of us the approach of that awful danger, an unconscious
unbelief of life.
But God forbid that we should doubt that you will meet
the danger and overcome it. You will, but you must not
make light of it. It is very real. I can give you no new
counsel for fighting against it. You know the invincible
armour. You have tried it in part already. It has enabled
you to gain some victories. It will enable you to gain all,
if you trust it thoroughly, and never fear to test it.
" Watch and pray." Be watchful against the first symptoms
of reaction ; the temper less guarded, the conversation less
absolutely pure, the work less carefully performed, the truth
less scrupulously observed, the Lord's Day less reverently
hallowed, the Bible less attentively and less lovingly read.
These symptoms are quite sure to arise ; but you need not
be surprised, disheartened, or disarmed. They are part of
what you are prepared to face when you say, as I know your
hearts do say, "This God whom I have worshipped to-day
shall be my guide even unto death."
" Watch and pray." When I spoke to you for the first
time this Quarter, it was on the words, " Lord, teach us to
pray'' If during the past weeks you have any one of you
been lifted closer to God, it has been on the wings of prayer.

182 UNBELIEF OF LIFE.
If He is to be your God still it will be by your clinging to
Him in prayer. Prayer begun, continued, and ended in
Him, for Jesus Christ's sake — that is the key of a holy life,
that is the very gate of heaven. God will never leave those
who pray to Him. He may lead them through dark places.
He may seem for a time to leave them to themselves, to
hide His face from them that they may be troubled. But
He is closest when He seems most distant. Jesus Christ
has told us that He hears and answers prayer, and it is this
certainty which makes us sure that God will never desert us.
Our holy communion with Him to-day may, if we will, never
be broken. " This God is our God for ever and ever. He
shall be our#guide even unto death."
December 9, 1866. ,

SERMON XXIV.

"FOR MY BRETHREN AND COMPANIONS* SAKES.'

Psalm cxxii. 8, 9.
"For my brethren and companions' sakes, I will wish thee prosperity.
Yea, because of the house of the Lord our God I will seek to do thee

The twelve psalms which we have repeated and sung this
Sunday, and the three which follow them, are called " Songs
of Degrees" or of "going up;"1 and though there is some
uncertainty as to the exact meaning of the term, the probable
explanation seems to be that they were used by those who
on their return from the Captivity " went up " to Jerusalem
to renew their national life and their ancestral worship of
'God. After this they seem to have been habitually used by
those devout members of the Jewish nation who, like the
earthly parents of our Lord, and indeed our Lord Himself,
" went to Jerusalem every year at the feast of the passover,"
and at other holy festivals.
A few verses taken almost casually from these psalms
will make you see at once what a force they gain if we
believe that they were thus employed. Imagine the Hebrew
exiles, the countrymen of Ezekiel and Daniel — of Daniel
who prayed on his knees three times a day with his face to
Jerusalem— imagine, I say, these men, with whom religion
and patriotism were so blended that you can never distin-
1 Psalms cxx. — cxxxiv.

1 84 "FOR MY BRETHREN
guish the one from the other, now at last allowed to return,
through God's mercy, from their weary banishment to the
hill of Zion. How real to them would be the words which
have been on our lips to-day : " My soul hath long dwelt
among them that are enemies unto peace."1 " I will lift up
mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help."2
" I was glad when they said unto me, We will go into the
house of the Lord. Our feet shall stand in thy gates, O
Jerusalem. Jerusalem is built as a city, that is at unity in
itself. For thither the tribes ' go up,' even the tribes of the •
Lord, to testify unto Israel, to give thanks unto the name
of the Lord."3 "The hills stand about Jerusalem."4 "When
the Lord turned again the captivity of Sion, then were we like
unto them that dream."5 It was too good to be true. " For
the Lord hath chosen Sion to be an habitation for Himself:
He hath longed for her."6 " Behold, how good and joyful
a thing it is, brethren, to dwell together in unity ! Like as
the dew of Hermon, and as the dew which descended upon
the mountains of Sion. For there the Lord promised His
blessing, and life for evermore."7
No Christian should ever repeat these words without
applying them in prayer to the Church of Christ. No
Englishman should ever repeat them without moulding in
their spirit his loyal prayer for the true prosperity of his
country. I will add, no boy at a great school like this
should repeat these words without finding in them a fresh
encouragement to pray, to think, to work for his school.
Not for his own comfort, but for a great body ; not for his
own credit, or his own ambition, much less for his own
indolence ; not, in a word, for himself at all, but for the
whole society from which he receives more than he can
ever give, should he make it his pride and his religion to
labour, and to care : " For my brethren and companions'
sakes, I will wish thee prosperity. Yea, because of the house
of the Lord our God I will seek to do thee good."
My brethren, on this our first meeting I desire to remind
1 Ps. cxx. 5. 2 Ps. cxxi. 1. 3 Ps. cxxii. 1—4. 4 Ps. cxxv. 2.
6 Ps. cxxvi. 1. 6 Ps. cxxxii. 14. 7 ps. cxxxiii. 1, 3, 4.

AND COMPANIONS' SAKES." 185
most of you, to assure all, that it is one of our privileges
here to apply such language to ourselves. It is, thank God,
an old lesson, that we live here not for ourselves, but for
one another. It is an old lesson, but it can never be ob
solete ; and we will not distrust the instincts of our heart
which, for more than one reason not difficult to divine,
prompt us to return to it to-day.
I want to persuade the youngest of you, if indeed per
suasion be necessary, of what I may call three school truths :
first, that this place deserves his love ; secondly, that he can,
if he will, do something to promote its prosperity ; and
thirdly, that he cannot better show his desire to please God
and Jesus Christ than by seeking to do it good.
I say the place deserves his love, and that because of the
good which is in it. Believe me, this place offers you marked
opportunities for becoming generous boys, useful, energetic
men, devout and large-minded Christians. To some of you
this language will seem the language of truism : to others, if
I mistake not, it will appear strange and almost out of place
to-day. I can imagine some having thoughts of this kind
to-day, for a first Sunday at school is a day which makes
tender and sober thoughts very natural : " My time of
danger has begun again. When I left home, I left safety.
Home was precious not only for its affection, but for its
shelter. Among the delights of returning there "a few weeks
back I can truly say that one was the wish to get away
from bad influences, and to breathe a purer atmosphere.
I wanted to renew good habits which I had partly given up,
and to receive affectionate sympathy from lips which I could
trust. And now when I return from this comparative shelter,
not without misgivings that my good resolutions may fail
me, I am met by an assurance that this is a place which
can help me to be a Christian ; and that if I do not love it,
and seek its good, it is my own fault."
Who shall say that misgivings of this -kind are altogether
without foundation ? Certainly not I. Home has its own
priceless blessings, and among them is that of comparative
shelter from many temptations. Even in those homes which

1 86 "FOR MY BRETHREN
cannot truly be said to be sanctified by Christian devotion,
there is still a respite from many grave evils. At home
there are hardly any temptations to falsehood. At home an
impure word is rarely if ever heard. At home there is
little scope for that wretched- school weakness which affects
contempt for diligence and discipline, and even a manly
familiarity with vice, as credentials for popular lead.
But we are apt, I think, to push this comparison between
home and school too far ; too much to the disadvantage of
the last. I repeat boldly, this place deserves your love for
the good which is in it. School, too, has its immunities
from temptation, as well as its positive helps towards a
noble life. What checks does it furnish against self-will,
against arrogance, against indolence, against the desire to
have our own way, and to take for granted that every one's
convenience is at our disposal ! You will find here a high
value set upon public spirit. You will find by degrees that
it is they who have most of this noble virtue that are
most looked up to. You will see how a conceited, selfish
boy, who is always scheming for his own ambition, is
disliked, even while he is feared. The heart of a great
body is always sound on such points as these, even if it
do not beat to yet nobler and more Christian emotions.
Every public school-boy learns to hate and despise sel
fishness. But I know that you will find here with a little search
influences yet more potent for good. You will find that on
the whole there is a desire among your companions that
straightforwardness should be maintained, and that language
should be pure, and that anything like injustice or oppres
sion should be put down. And though of course success in
carrying out this desire can only be imperfect, yet you will
have little difficulty in determining the true bent of the
current; and it will only be in moments of undue and
transient depression that you will allow yourself to imagine
that the stream sets in favour of evil, and that there is a
general league to crush good.
And once more, though I shrink from using language

AND COMPANIONS' SAKES." 187
which may appear to any in the least unreal, though I would
far rather underrate than exaggerate the amount of good '
that you will find among us, I must not hesitate to express
my conviction that below the glittering and sometimes
troubled surface of our amusements, our ambitions, and
even our occasional disputes and misunderstandings, there
is in many places a calm undercurrent of real Christian
zeal ; a quiet " river, the streams whereof" do indeed " make
glad the city of God ;'n an honest desire to dedicate body
and soul to Jesus Christ, to draw spiritual strength from the
means of grace here offered, "yea, because of the House of
the Lord our God," and all its hallowed and happy asso
ciations, to " seek to do " some lasting and more than v
earthly " good."
And.I want you all to believe that you can do this. No
one is so weak, so ignorant, so unpopular, but that he can do
something for his " brethren and companions' sakes." This
is a time, a day, of good resolutions. Let me suggest
two or three not very exacting, and let us ask God to
enable us to keep them.
First, you can serve this place by always taking the right
side. I am not thinking of doubtful cases where the wisest
may mistake. I am thinking of those marked antagonisms
between good and evil, which show themselves more visibly
to boys than to men, never more visibly than in early school
days. You talk freely, unreservedly among one another.
Not a day passes without your hearing some conversation
in which there is a right or a wrong. Some one speaks
foolishly, or impurely, or profanely, or makes light of some
thing which is duty in disguise. You can seem to agree.
You can echo what he says. You can join in what he
proposes. This I call taking the wrong side. But there is
always another. God grant that you may not only see it,
but maintain it !
Again, you can serve this, place by being strictly truthful
and upright. In every school there is a debateable ground
of plausible dishonesties, which the good cannot quite
1 Ps. xlvi. 4.

•i 88 "FOR MY BRETHREN
bring themselves to surrender to the bad. If they did, the
bad would soon become ashamed of it, and it would find
no claimants. I will not go into details ; they are not
needed. You could all with a moment's thought name
a few practices about which your consciences have never
felt quite easy, and on which therefore you have been
careful not to^make up your minds as to whether they are
allowable or not. Now, then, let me assure you that ybu can
serve this place most effectually, indeed with an efficiency
which we masters might envy, if you will, just once for
all, make up your minds that these practices, these half-
recognized evasions, are not permissible, and that you will
avoid them, and discourage them in every possible way, not
for fear of punishment, but because they are wrong, and
because for your "brethren and companions' sakes" you
grieve over a tolerated evil.
What I have said hitherto applies to every one. Need I
add how powerfully the elder and more influential among
you can contribute to serve this place? A few simple
words, watchfulness, kindness, courage, suggest almost wid>
out comment all that is needed. I do not speak here to
those who are inexperienced. You know Harrow well —
its weak points, its temptations, its grand opportunities.
" For your brethren and companions' sakes " — there can be
but one dearer ground of appeal, the holy will of your
heavenly Father and theirs, — by watchfulness, by kindness,
and by courage you will seek to do them good.
And then, lastly, I would ask you all to remember that
a life thus consecrated to the service of others is a
religious life ; a life well-pleasing to God ; a life formed
on the pattern of His Son Jesus Christ. It is God's will
— it is in accordance with Christ's blessed example — that
we should seek each other's good. Unless we try to do
it for His sake, and in His spirit, we shall not, I think,
long continue to do it at all. Unless we put Him first, we
shall ere long put self first. The affection which persists
unweariedly in seeking our brethren's good must be a
Christian affection. It must, like all other Christian graces,

AND COMPANIONS' SAKES." 189
be fed by prayer, practised in humility, and maintained
in spite of frequent disappointments.
It is a blessing and an honour to be members of a body
which can inspire this deep affection. One of the earliest
sermons that I heard from this place, preached on the first
Sunday of our school Quarter, twenty years ago, spoke to
us of one recently taken from our head after much suffer
ing patiently borne. The eulogy then passed on him has
never faded from my memory. We were told, " He cared
for you. Without aiming at popularity, without sacrificing
for that object anything that he thought his duty, he deeply
cared for you, for your real happiness and your real good."1
And now, after a lapse of twenty years, it has fallen to.
my lot to bear the same simple yet honourable testimony
to another Head of the School, whose career I had myself
watched, and at whose death I was allowed to be present.2
" He cared for you " may be truly said of him also. You
know most of you the generous munificence by which he
showed his desire for our intellectual good. But I could
see that his care for us went much deeper. When he
thought himself sinking he prayed for the prosperity, the
purity, and the high aims of this beloved school, and he
spoke a few words of thankfulness for the blessing which
this Chapel had been to him. And therefore the beautiful
words of our psalm have acquired for me at least — perhaps
for some of you — a fresh sacredness in association with his
name. " For my brethren and companions' sakes, I will
wish thee prosperity. Yea, because of the House of the
Lord our God, I will seek to do thee good."
- 1 Dr. Vaughan's Harrow Sermons. Sermon xxx. on Thanksgiving
for the Departed, p. 394.
2 John Edward Bourchier, Head of the School 1862-63, and
Founder of the Bourchier Prizes for Modern History and English
Literature, died December 23d, 1866.
January 27, 1867.

SERMON XXV.
THE SCENE IN SIMON'S HOUSE.
St. Luke vii. 47.
" Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven ;
for she loved much : but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth
little."
I must ask you to follow me briefly through the various
steps of this well-known parable. There is hardly one
which leaves so vivid a picture upon the mind. We seem
to see the scene and almost the faces of those that were
present ; nay, almost to read their hearts. Our Lord was
invited to the table of one of the Pharisees. Probably
His host was a man of a blameless and even religious life,
who, without having entered very deeply into the character
of Jesus, regarded Him as a holy man, and wished to show
Him a mark of respect. Evidently he did not share the
dislike and suspicions of the majority of the Pharisees.
They would have shrunk from the presence of Jesus : he
was desirous to pay Him attention, perhaps to learn some
thing from Him. The lesson was to come in a strangely
unexpected and even repulsive form.
Among those who watched Jesus as He entered the
house was " a woman in the city, which was a sinner." She,
too, must follow, not as a guest, but as something more.
It was presumption to enter, but she could not help it.
Her presence would be frowned down upon as a pollu
tion, but no feeling of shame or fear could prevent her
offering the sacrifice which her heart had made ready. She

THE SCENE IN SIMON'S HOUSE. 191
too, though in a spiritual sense, was to be the host of the
Saviour, and He her guest. To the outward eye He was the
guest of the Pharisee, seated at his right hand, partaking
of his hospitality. To the inward eye He was the expectant
guest of that poor despised, conscience-stricken, penitent
sinner, to the table of whose heart He had Himself offered
His sacred Presence. " Behold, I stand at the door, and
knock : if any man hear My voice, and open the door, I
will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me." x
The words were now made good. He was outwardly the
guest of the Pharisee. He was inwardly the guest of the
shrinking penitent whom the Pharisee thought it a religious
duty to despise.
The poor woman showed her love in a form, the strange
ness of which we have almost come to forget. She stood at
the feet of the principal guest weeping; then, as her tears
fell fast on His feet, she knelt down and wiped them with
the hair of her head. Also, she had brought with her an
alabaster box of ointment. With this ointment she anointed
the sacred feet already bathed with her tears.
NoW, what was the meaning of this touching devotion ?'
Nay, what was it that drew her to the presence of the
Saviour ? We have no reason to suppose that He had ever
yet spoken to her. The narrative seems rather to imply the
contrary. Nor does there appear to be any authority for
identifying her with that Mary of Magdala, out of whose
troubled heart seven evil spirits had been expelled by His
word of power ; or with that other Mary, the sister of
Martha and Lazarus, who, on the eve of the Crucifixion,
came "aforehand to anoint" His "body to the burying." The
scene on which we are dwelling seems to have occurred
early in His ministry, soon after the Sermon on the Mount,
soon after the raising of the widow's son at Nain, probably
therefore while He was yet in Galilee, and had not yet set
His face to go to Jerusalem and to Bethany.
It is worth observing, that on only two occasions previous
to this story does the Lord appear to have spoken as
1 Rev. iii. 20.

192 \THE SCENE IN SIMON'S HOUSE.
the forgiver of sins. They are both described in the fifth '
chapter of St. Luke's Gospel. The first instance is that of
the paralytic. His friends let him down into the presence
of Jesus, expecting that He would heal him. The words of
the Lord were startling : " Man, thy sins are forgiven thee."
Immediately afterwards, Levi the publican, that is, Matthew
the Evangelist, made Him a feast in his house, at which we
are told "a great company of publicans and of others sat down
with Him." But the Scribes and Pharisees, as usual-— let
us admit, as was natural — were scandalized at this conde
scension, and said to His disciples, "Why do ye eat and
drink with publicans and sinners ? " You remember how He
answered for them : " They that are whole need not a
physician ; but they that are sick. I came not to call the
righteous, but sinners to repentance."
Now, whether the woman of our story was present oh
either of these occasions we do not know. Probably she
was. Something at least had told her that there was in that
holy man a mysterious power which exposed at once and
forgave her sin-stained life. She knew Him not, my
brethren, as we know Him, to be " the Lamb of God which
taketh away the sins of the world." She knew Him not as
the Son of God, one with the Father, still less, of course, as
the crucified Redeemer who was to be "lifted up from the
earth," and with cords of love to " draw all men " to Him.
She had not the knowledge which the most ignorant of us
possesses, but she had that knowledge, without which all our
knowledge is nothing worth. She had the liveliest possible
knowledge of her own sinfulness, and the surest possible;
conviction that the holy Jesus of Nazareth could give her
first sympathy and then pardon. His holiness it was that
attracted her to Him ; the sin-stained to the sinless ; the
worldly and world-wearied to One who breathed the atmo
sphere of heaven ; the broken heart and contrite spirit to
One who hated sin so completely that He must love and ,
long to save the sinner.
Here we have confession: here we have the craving lot
absolution. Have you never known what it was to be-

THE SCENE IN SIMON'S HOUSE. 193
thoroughly humbled and beaten down by the conscious
ness of some sin? Family life, surely, is full of such
awakenings. Something lay heavily on your conscience :
you longed to get rid of it. You believed God was willing
to forgive you, but you longed to be assured of this by a
human voice, if only you could find one which could in any
measure represent the Voice of God. If so, it must be
gentle and loving. If so, it must be the voice of some one
who would not make light of the sin and explain it away as
a foible or a slip. No, it must be the voice of some one
who could see the sin as your conscience saw it, something
black, bad, quite indefensible, but could at the same time
love you in spite of it ; love and respect you, I had almost
said, all the more for it ; speak to you not in surprise or
anger, but with the tenderness of sympathy and the com
passion of a goodness far above your own. Happy the son
who has ever known such a voice speaking from the lips of
a parent. But thus much we may affirm with certainty :
if ever to any human knowledge he has disclosed some
burdensome and polluting secret, if ever he has craved to
hear from human lips some assurance of a forgiveness which
must, he knew, come from God alone, it is when he has
applied to some one holier than himself ; not to the man of
the world, not to the sensible but unspiritual friend, but to
some one acquainted with God, and therefore, like Christ,
acquainted with the souls and sins of men. Those to whom
such confidences are seldom given have seldom advanced
very far in the spiritual life. One of the surest tests of
holiness is the unconscious power of making confes
sion easy.
So it was in the case before us. The poor despised
woman who knelt in the Pharisee's house at the Saviour's
feet had practically made her confession. She proved that
more than her own fame and reputation she valued holiness
and purity. She knew what was thought of her, and she
did not care. She knew that she was forgiven. Before the
word was spoken she knew it. She knew it, because she
had taken true measure of the character of Jesus. Words
o

194 THE SCENE IN SIMON'S HOUSE.
were not needed; scarcely looks. Her heart told her that
One so holy, from whom she wished to hide nothing, must
by anticipation have forgiven all ; and because she had been
forgiven much, therefore she loved much. She was showing
her grateful love by such mute symbols as were open to her.
•Not daring to look upon the sacred face, needing to say
nothing, expecting to hear nothing, she knelt in silence
kissing the feet which she had first bathed with the
tears of repentance. And in this lowly attitude she felt
the unexpressed comment of the Pharisee, and heard the
parable of the Saviour. When he began, " Simon, I have
somewhat to say unto thee," there was one at least present
whose heart told her how the story must end. It could
not end in her condemnation and rejection. It could not
lessen her confidence that her sins were forgiven. It could
not, therefore, cut away the ground of the love which in the
faith of that forgiveness she had already pledged. And so
she heard the story proceed ; heard of the two debtors both
frankly forgiven, and knew that it was she whose debt had
been the largest ; heard the contrast drawn between her simple
affection and the cold conventional courtesy of Simon ;
heard her affection ascribed to the true source, which no
one else suspected — gratitude for being forgiven ; saw that
those sins which she knew to be heavy were not represented
as light; heard Him say, "but with no touch of scorn,"
" Her sins are many ; " but heard Him also say, " Her sins
are forgiven," else she would not have loved so much, "but
to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little ; " heard
finally, amid the astonishment of the critics who looked on,
the startling sentence of acquittal once more ratified : " Thy
faith hath saved thee ; go in peace."
My brethren, I shall draw but few conclusions from this
sacred story, this Gospel within the Gospels. That part of
the preacher's labour has been already performed. We
have been reminded this morning1 that there is no sure
1 It is a pleasure to me to recall a sermon preached on this subject
by my former colleague, the Rev. E. H. Bradby, now Head Master
of Haileybury College.

THE SCENE IN SIMON'S HOUSE. 195
foundation for a Christian life but the knowledge that we
are very sinful, and that God has forgiven our sins and our
sinfulness for His Son's sake. We have been reminded-
that it is faith, the attitude of the heart even more than the
assent of the intellect, which lays hold on the conviction of
God's mercy; and that love, the prompter of all that is noble
in man, is the natural fruit of a true belief in the forgiveness
of sins.
May we all lay to heart these lessons ! My purpose is
rather to urge you to make the story your own. Think
over its details. Try to . see what passed, the gestures, the
tones, the character displayed. Try to stamp the picture
indelibly on your hearts' memory, that it may last you your
lives. The Gospel history is a series of such pictures. If
we will study them, and pore over them, we can hardly fail
to catch something of their spirit. You cannot stand before
such a picture and criticize. As you gaze, you come to
know more of God and Christ ; and the more we see Him
as He is, the more we must come to be like Him. As you
gaze on such a picture as this, the thoughts crowd upon you,
and not one is without the stamp of heaven.
You contrast God's judgment of sin with man's, even the
religious man's judgment. Man despises or desponds ;
God forgives and hopes on. Man thinks of the pollution
of society, God of the rescue of the individual. Man's-
idea of goodness is an elevation above vulgar faults. God's
idea of holiness is condescension to the most trivial weak
ness, as well as the most ingrained sin ; seeing in every
human soul the image of God and longing to recall it to its
Father's presence.
And, once more, as you turn your eye on the shrinking
figure of the penitent absorbed in one thought — the past
blotted out for ever, the future not yet realized, but neces
sarily the glorious service of a regenerated soul — what
Christian can fail to see what ought to be, and what so often
is not, the image of himself? Amid the various figures that
compose the group there is his appointed place ; not that of
the cold-hearted religious man who says to himself, " This
o 2

196 THE SCENE IN SIMON'S HOUSE.
man, if He were a prophet, would have known who and what
manner of woman this is that toucheth Him : for she is a
sinner ; " not again among those unconvinced critics who
said Within themselves, " Who is this that forgiveth sins
also?" No; but there, there at the' Saviour's feet, hiding
nothing of the past, assured of a free forgiveness, and long
ing to prove his gratitude by a life of self-sacrificing love.
" Unto whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little."
February 24, 1867.

SERMON XXVI.
THE CROSS.
St. Mark viii. 34.
"And when He had called the people unto Him with His disciples also,
He said unto them, Whosoever will come after Me, let him deny him
self, and take up his cross, and follow Me. "
Such were the terms by which Jesus Christ sought to enlist
men in His service. They came around Him attracted by
His holiness, and curious to know more about Him. He
offered them three attractions — self-denial, shame, and
absolute surrender. Unless they were content with these,
they could not enter His army.
We have almost lost sight of the strangeness of this
summons. To "take up the cross" has become a religious
phrase. We' use it almost mechanically ; nay, when we are
most reverent, we almost hesitate to apply it to the trials of
common life. We shrink from applying it to the man of
the world, to the man of business, to the man of cultivated
intellect ; and perhaps it seems to be peculiarly strained if
applied to the very young.
And yet it contains the very lesson of Christianity ; I
will add the very lesson of Lent. If any one here desires
to derive real spiritual good from the holy season on which
we entered last Wednesday, let him try to enter into the
meaning of these simple words of Christ : " If any man
desires to come after Me, let him take up his cross."

THE CROSS.

Think how the expression must have startled those who
first heard it. They had seen, some of them, wretched
Roman slaves led out to crucifixion, each staggering under
the load of his own cross ; first the degradation of carrying
such a burthen, then the horrible and lingering death.
This prospect was the bribe offered by the new Teacher.
It would not always be sufficient to stand by the Lake, or
walk by the way, gazing on His holy countenance, and
listening with quickened consciences to His majestic words.
Their loyalty would soon be put to a severer test. At the
end of the road stood the Cross. With this certainty before
them, were they willing to choose it ? If not, there was still
time to turn.
A few years later, and the expression would have gained
another meaning. The Cross had become for evermore the
symbol of Christian devotion, because the Lord Jesus
Christ had Himself first borne and then died upon it. And
the great Apostle who, at such a place as Corinth, where
highly intellectual teaching would have been most valued,
determined deliberately to know nothing "save Jesus Christ
and Him crucified"1 declares that he himself has been cru
cified with his Master, and that the only thing of which he
will boast is the despised, and shameful Cross.2
Centuries rolled away, and a new meaning gathered round
the expression to "take the cross." You know what it
meant to the Crusader. To "take the cross" was to per
form the hardest and most perilous duties that his age
recognized ; to give up home and friends, and probably life,
to do honour — such was the belief — to the tomb of the
Redeemer. The error which dictated such a creed is easy
to detect. The heroism which obeyed it is hard to
imitate. We have a purer light and a truer knowledge than
that which guided Bernard and St. Louis ; but we are happy
if equally penetrated with the conviction that to be a
Christian is to " take the cross."
And how can this be done ? How can you, my younger
brethren, who do honestly wish to be ".Christ's soldiers
1 I Cor, ii. 2, 2 cai_ j^ 20 . vi I4

THE CROSS. 199

and servants unto your lives' end," how can you " take
up your cross?" I will try to show you, and you shall
judge whether the thing is impossible.
" To take up the cross daily " is to be prepared for what
is most painful in the attempt to do your duty. The cross
is, like all burthens, heavy, exhausting, crushing. But it is
more. It is degrading also. It fills us with shame. It
crushes out of us our pride, and all that is false in our
darling self-esteem. It makes us think less well of our
energies at the very time that it taxes them most severely.
It says to us, "You must dare to face this duty;" and in the
same breath, " How poor and cowardly you must be to
dread it."
Let us see if this be true. Some of you are in a room
where language is used which you know to be bad. Your
taste is offended. There is no Christianity there. You
resent it as an insolent intrusion ; but resentment is not
Christianity. Conscience tells you that you ought to declare
it wrong, to let it be known in some way that you hate it,
not because it is coarse or insolent, but because it is hateful
to God. And dare you show this ? There is the cross.
Will you take it up? If you do, you know what it costs.
You will be laughed at, and thought unlike other people.
Arid more than that, what is still harder to bear, you will
feel that you have only an imperfect right to protest. Your
own past weaknesses will crowd back upon your memory.
Conscience will re-echo the taunt which you fancy you hear
from the lips of those whom you are criticizing : "Who, after
all, are you, that you should presume to take silch high
ground "in condemning another?"
Now here, I say, is the cross. In common language it
is the struggle between duty and inclination, between courage
and cowardice, conscience and self-indulgence. In Christian
language, which ought to be very dear to every true Christian
soldier, and ought to spring readily and naturally to his
mind in moments of pressure, it is a cross, a cross which
his Master has given him to bear. If he does, he follows
in his Master's steps. If he refuses, he is not merely doing

THE CROSS.

what even his own companions would despise as weak ;
he is refusing a definite discipline which his Master knew
to be good for his training.
But this is a visible cross. It is borne, if borne at all, in
the sight of others. With strong natures, pride sometimes
comes to the help of conscience, and insidiously lends its
strong arm to the support of the burthen. But there are
other kinds of crosses. There are those which no one ever
sees, perhaps never suspects. You know, my brethren, that
these are not the least formidable., Let us take a few
of them.
There is the cross of truthfulness. To some this is
nothing. It is as natural to speak the truth as to breathe
the air. Evasion is as difficult as it is hateful. But with
many, perhaps with most, it is not so. Wherever there is
weakness, there is a temptation to be at times disingenuous.
Fear of some kind — it may be of the basest kind, it may
also have much in common with false delicacy and a desire
to avoid giving pain — but fear in some shape will always
tempt to insincerity. Some of you, I doubt not, feel that
this is your cross. You find nothing quite so hard as to
be always perfectly truthful.
Then there is the cross of self denial in little things,
when self-denial on our part seems to others so natural and
obvious that they give us no credit for it. The temptation
is, as you know, not exactly to disregard, and still less
despise, the claims of others, but quietly to ignore them by
Concentrating our thoughts upon ourselves. We do not
mean to be selfish, but it does not occur to us to be un
selfish. Others wish to take part in some occupation or
amusement. We have as good a right as they, perhaps
better. Of course we push our claim. Everybody would
do the same. Every one must look after his own business.
So we say, and so the world says, and no one imagines
that it is very sinful : but service to Christ makes war upon
just these petty selfish maxims which pass current with
those who think little of religion. The service of Christ
says, " There is your cross. Others will tell you you have

THE CROSS.

a good claim. I bid you waive it. It is a nobler thing to
forbear than to claim. It is the most Christ-like thing you
can do."
Now, my brethren, let none of us despise this self-denial
in little things. It is the beauty and grace of social life.
It is also one of the surest tests of a spirit disciplined in the
school of Christ. The habit of putting ourselves second
instead of first, of feeling real pleasure in another's success
at our cost, of letting our thoughts dwell on the happiness
of another rather than on our own, is one of the very
brightest jewels in the Christian crown. And it is not won
easily. Before a man or a boy can say from his heart, " He
must increase, but I must decrease,"1 and I am glad that it is
so, he must have borne many a secret cross, silently, sorrow
fully, and with prayers.
, Then, again, there is the cross of humility, which is of
course only one form of self-denial. It is sometimes very
hard not to feel proud. Something has ruffled us ; some
word or act that we did not expect. All that is within us,
noble and ignoble alike, rises up in arms. It seems a duty
to resent, a duty that we owe not to ourselves alone, but to
the cause of right. Arguments at such moments go for
nothing. They seem all to point in the direction which
passion has already taken. It is not perhaps till days after
that we see, almost with a smile, how strangely delusive
they were ; not that they were in themselves false, but that
there were others which should have maintained the
mastery. Now, what argument and common sense are too weak to
do at such moments of irritation, Christian principle ought
to achieve. By Christian principle I mean the habit, gradu
ally formed, of bringing everything by instinct to the Chris
tian standard ; or to use the language of our text, the habit
of expecting crosses and being ready to take them up. This
habit should check the very 'first sparks of pride by the
instantaneous thought, "j.here is my cross; there is the
opportunity granted to me of showing, not to others, but to
1 John iii. 30.

THE CROSS.

God and my own conscience, not whether I am a high-
spirited man, but whether I am the servant of a crucified
Saviour." Once more, there is the cross of temperance; of keeping
under, by a strong tension of the will, all those bad thoughts
and enfeebling fancies which eat away the vigour of the soul.
If there is any work to which Lent should re-animate us, it
is this. And surely I do not exaggerate when I say to
many, this work is not only a duty, but a cross — the very
hardest, heaviest, most painful burthen they can bear.
Thoughts will swarm into the mind which they would will
ingly exclude, and thankfully banish. But the wish is not
sufficient. There must be a very resolute, and often a pro^
tracted wrestle. " This kind goeth not out but by prayer
and fasting."1 As a help in the struggle I would counsel the
recollection of our text. These bad polluting thoughts are
not merely faults of temperament, they are, from a Christian
point of view, the definite enemy which you are charged to
fight; and the effort requisite for this is the definite cross
which you are to carry. If you can remember this, help is
not far off. The moment we grasp the conviction that a
spiritual trial is a cross, we lift our eyes necessarily to that
other Cross from which strength and purification never cease
to flow.
' Thus, theft, we have spoken of five crosses : the cross of
courage under anticipated ridicule; the cross ot truthfulness ;
the cross of self-denial; the cross of humility ; the cross of
temperance in bringing the rebellious body into complete
subjection. Every heart has its own cross to bear. To many it is the
burthen of holding fast by God and leading a cheerful,
happy life, in the absence, real or supposed, of human
sympathy. But enough has been said to show how real a
friend this figure may become to us all. When we speak of
it, we are on distinctly Christian ground. It is always
perilous to narrow Christian ground ; to say that unless a
man holds this or that doctrine, he cannot be a true Christian.
1 Matt. xvii. 21.

THE CROSS.

But here we are entitled, nav we are bound, to. use pererrip-
lory language. To be willing "to take up the cross" is the
very essence of the faith of Christ. By this test we may
measure our own progress. No laxity in our practice can
ever explain away the declaration of our Master, "He that
taketh not his cross, and followeth after Me, is not worthy
of Me."1 1 Malt. x. 38.

March 10, 1867.

SERMON XXVII.

HUMAN WISHES.
St. Luke xxii. 42.
"Not My will, but Thine, be done.''
I suppose there is scarcely a subject on which poets and
moralists have expended more sage advice than on " the
vanity of human wishes." All scholars are familiar with the
famous Latin poem,1 where the supposed objects of man's
ambition are brought forward one by one in order that their
worthlessness may be exposed.
Power, eloquence, military genius and success, length of
days, personal grace and beauty, each is passed in review
coupled with some brilliant name of statesman, or orator, or
general, or king, and then we are reminded of the miserable
fall. The wish was gratified, and the ruin was decreed.
Each man in his blindness, unwarned by the beacons of
the past, rushed upon his fate, longed for the brilliant prize,
put out his hand to grasp it, received it from the scornful and
envious gods, and then, by an awful catastrophe, added one
more name to the "baffled millions that had gone before."
And at the close the weary question is asked, " Is there
then nothing that men may wish for ? " And the answer is
that they will do well to leave the future in the hands of the
gods. The gods will. give what is best, rather than what is
most pleasant. The gods love man better than man loves
himself, therefore he may trust them.
1 The Tenth Satire of Juvenal.

HUMAN WISHES. 205

When this famous poem was written the Christian Church
was nearly a century old. Unknown to Juvenal, or despised
so far as he knew them, an obscure body of men and women
were introducing into the world a new wish, a new object
of ambition, that of sacrificing all that they held most dear
in order that they might compass one end yet dearer, the
ambition to live and die for Jesus Christ, that all men, high
and low, might come to the knowledge of His character
and His love. In setting self-denial before themselves as
the highest of human wishes, they were following in their
Master's steps. They were praying His own prayer. He
had said at the crisis of His agony, that agony which we are
so soon to commemorate once more : " Not My will, but
Thine, be done ; " and the great principle of self-surrender
thus for ever . consecrated was to be the guiding star of the
lives of His followers. No satirist has ever proved that this
ambition leads to ruin.
The question still remains for young and old equally :
What do I wish for most? What is the object of my am
bition ? It is a question which the near approach of Passion-
week and the example set by our Lord invites us to answer
humbly and carefully.
I would ask first some of the very youngest among you,
in all simplicity and affectionate earnestness, what are some
of the things which you would most like to have if wishing
could bring them ? I suppose with many of you they would
be very simple things which you need not be ashamed to
own — plenty of amusement, ample opportunity for all manly
games, constant affection at home, whether well deserved or
otherwise, freedom and popularity so long as you are here.
To my mind these wishes, though they have not a very
lofty sound, are just as creditable, neither more nor less so,
as any other human wishes which have no higher aim than
self. There is nothing wrong in them. They are just what
we all wish you to obtain. When we see that they are yours,
that God has showered them upon most of you in very ample
measure, we heartily rejoice with you. Far from desiring their
diminution, we would have them increase more and more.

206 HUMAN WISHES.

But you know very well that all such wishes have a weak
side. They may be to you precisely what ambition and love
of money so often become to grown-up men. They may
absorb and engross your whole thoughts, shutting out of
sight your heavenly home, making all thoughts of Christ's
love and all thoughts of your own sin unwelcome and
unnatural. Try and think seriously how ,you would feel
if all these wishes were in a moment irrevocably blasted.
Suppose that the storm which swept over so many houses
in England last year were to invade your families. Suppose
that your parents were at once reduced from affluence to
something very like poverty. Every superfluity would have
to be at once struck off. Their whole style of life would be
changed. You would no longer be able to have everything
for the asking. All that gave glitter and outward refinement
to your idea of life would be no longer yours, and with the
substance would vanish much of the shadow also. All that
easy, careless self-assumption which sits so gracefully upon
men of wealth and fashion, and which has a great fascination
for the young, all this would suddenly leave you. You would
be conscious of belonging to a lower level of society; and
unless you had stored your mind and heart with treasures of
a very different kind from those we have been contem
plating, believe me you would feel the change acutely.
There are very few persons who can bear with dignity a
sudden transfer from self-indulgence to self-denial.
But perhaps you think this is a very poor, almost a vulgar
test, of the strength of your mind. You fancy you could
throw up rank, comfort, and amusements, almost without a
sigh, and that you would find a noble delight in helping
your parents to bear their reverses. Suppose, then, the
trial was yet more bitter and more personal. What is it
that every boy, and almost every man, takes for granted ?
That his bodily health will continue. Even the professional
man, whose means of usefulness and providing for his family
depend absolutely upon his health, can rarely be brought
to believe that the tenure is a frail one. What has been,
will be. He has worked so many hours in the day one:

HUMAN WISHES. 207
year ; he can surely work the same for at least one more,
and one more, and one more.
And if it is so with the man, it is still more so with the
boy. In a space of only twenty years I have known five
Heads of this School summoned away by death ; perhaps
a fifth of the whole number. I knew something of their
ambitions, their anxiety to do their duty. They took for
granted that life and health were before them, and almost
before manhood the new life began. And if this confidence
prevails with devoted work and honourable cares, so it' is
with amusement. There is not one among you that does
not take his health for granted. Whatever else may change
— place, friends, tastes, and pursuits — he will be a healthy,
vigorous boy, and a healthy, vigorous man, able to feel
keenly, and enjoy with transport the gay, bright things that,
form the trappings of life. It may be so ; but the old,
dull, insipid question returns, Suppose it were otherwise?
If you and bodily health were to part with one another,
to-morrow never to be re-united ; if the years that are yet
in store were to be racked with pain, or numbed with para
lysis, could you say — you, the young ones who now hear
me — " My old wishes for amusement were not part of
myself — 1 can say farewell to them without a bitter thought..
Not my will, but Thine, be done ? "
Let me try to answer the question for you. Some of you
could say this. Some of you, even now in these bright days
of boyhood, carry the thought of God and of heaven in
your heart. You know that religion is no enemy to high
spirits. You know that the eye which looks thankfully and
reverently to heaven sees more, not less, happiness in the
enjoyments even of earth. You can already, from your own
experience, set your seal to the Christian poet's words : —
" Why should we fear, youth's draught of joy,
If pure, would sparkle less ?
Why should the cup the sooner cloy,
Which God hath deigned to bless V'1
" Christian Year," Hymn for Second Sunday after Epiphany.

208 HUMAN WISHES.

And, therefore, if the summons were to come thus early,
warning you that all bodily amusements were for you at an
end for ever, you would simply and quietly fall back, as it
were, from the outer and least-valued line of defences, and
would concentrate your power of enjoyment, as you had
already set your truest affections, on the things that are
above. You could say, and without any agonizing struggle,
"Thy will, not mine, be done!"
But, oh ! do not hastily suppose that this would be so
with all. God is very tender and merciful to those whom
He chastens, and Nature, as we vaguely call her, adapts
herself wonderfully to changed circumstances. But never
believe that it is an easy thing for a heart clogged with
bodily amusements to give them up at the call of bodily
decay. If the dearest wish of your hearts is to excel in
some bodily competition ; if, to speak honestly, you would
prefer this to any other form of distinction ; if this is the
dream that fills all vacant hours, and gives the tone to all
your most earnest conversation, then I tell you the wish
is wrong. It has gone too far. It is a snare to you. It
makes your life poor and vulgar ; and if sickness were to
come with its pitiless irony, and warn you that the wish
must be henceforward a delusion, your boasted firmness
of mind would be utter weakness. The wrench would be
more than you could bear. Ambition does not suddenly flit
from earth to heaven when earth fails. Between the two
" there is a great gulf fixed," heavy with the mists of dis
appointment, of aimlessness, and discontent.
Perhaps too much has been said of the " wish " for amuse
ment and comfort, though I suppose most of you will own
its power. But let us now briefly think of another human
wish — the wish for intellectual distinction. Can the approach
of Passion-week throw any light from Gethsemane even
upon this ? And, first of all, let us be candid ; let us avow
what we really mean. Would to God that there were more
of this wish among us ! Were it allowable to choose
between two moral dangers, gladly would we part with some
of the exaggerated wish for bodily amusement in exchange

HUMAN WISHES. 209

for an equally exaggerated wish for intellectual achieve
ment. But my office, as your adviser from this place, is not
so much to strike a balance between two conflicting attrac
tions of earth as to elevate your minds, and if possible my
own, to that pure heavenly atmosphere in which the distinc
tion disappears.
Does any one here say to himself, " If my heart could
be seen, the wish most deeply graven upon it would be a
reputation for cleverness sustained by continued success ?
1 cannot bear a second place. I have no patience with dull
mediocrity. Goodness, if there is nothing more, I find,
I must own, insipid ; and all pretensions not based upon
intellectual superiority — the pretensions of the athlete, and
the pretensions of social position — I thoroughly despise."
Now, if such feelings as these are wrong, they are not the
feelings of a petty and sordid nature. They are, as it were,
the rough block out of which the Divine Artist can mould
the proportions of some " chosen vessel." But still we do
not see in them the Spirit of Christ, the spirit of self-sacrifice.
They, too, have just as much need as the others to ask
themselves, This " wish " for distinction, could I bear that
it should be disappointed ? Would defeat, signal, decisive,
and continued, leave me soured and depressed, or could I
" bear" it and be thankful for it? The temptation to lose
heart in such cases is, doubtless, very strong. Hope and
disappointment have an almost equal tendency to set the
imagination at play; and after an intellectual failure the
imagination tells us that this is to be the law of our life —
failure, failure, constant failure, written upon all our under
takings. Our means of usefulness will thus be crippled.
The mortification is not merely personal, " then we could
have borne it ;" but imagination persuades us that our per
sonal cause is the cause of good, and that in our failure the
fortunes of good are compromised.
It is of little use to reason with imagination when roused
by despondency into a morbid activity ; otherwise we might
point to the vast number of God's, champions, the insignifi
cance of any one, His independence even of all.
p

HUMAN WISHES.

" God doth not need
Either man's work or His own gifts."
But such arguments from experience and from reason prove
but a slight palliative when fever runs high. The true medi
cine, not more soothing than restorative, is to submit our
will absolutely to God's; to learn early the lesson of Geth
semane and Calvary, " Not my will, but Thine ;" to ask that
our wishes may be Christ's wishes, and His wishes ours ; to
pray Him not to grant them if our souls would suffer ; to
pray for disappointment, failure, humiliation, if need be —
anything rather than that this earth should limit our desires,
and that our " treasure " should be below.
The vanity of human wishes ! "Is there then nothing that
we may wish for ? " Yes, we may wish to be like Christ,
humble, holy, and self-denying; living for God and for
others, not for ourselves. That is an ambition which can
never disappoint. Follow that ambition, and your name will
not swell the list of splendid failures. " Is there nothing
that we may rightly wish for?" The Christian's answer to
the question is, "Lord, teach us to pray:" and His answer
is, " After this manner pray ye : Our Father, which art in
heaven, Hallowed be Thy name ; Thy Kingdom come ; Thy
will be done."1 Matt. vi. 9, 10.
April 1, 1867.

SERMON XXVIII.
GAMBLING.
St. Matthew vi. 21.
" For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also"
We hardly know where our treasure lies. Sometimes it is
in one place, sometimes in another. Sometimes it seems to
be divided ; part is here, part is there. There is room for
some uncertainty as to its whereabout, and for much self-
deception. The question comes to this : What do I care for
most? not, what ought I to care for most, or what do I hope
and intend to care for most some day when I am older and
more serious ; but what do I care for most now ? Is it
earth, or is it heaven? If it be earth, is it earth's noblest
things? Is it even some of earth's most innocent things?
Or is it the poorer, meaner things of earth ; and does the
warning cry " Lift up your hearts " fall upon our ears with
something of a contemptuous irony ?
This subject, my brethren, has been forced upon my mind
by two very different reasons : the one, the return of
Ascension Day ; the . other, the prevalence, I fear the
increase, of a disgraceful national vice which is poisoning
the morals of the rich, which is doing much harm at the
Universities, and is, I fear, not unknown here.
Let me first devote a few words to what ought to be no
strange or unintelligible thought, the great, the paramount,
I do not say the only lesson of Ascension Day. It is given
in the Collect in language so beautiful that its music lingers
p 2

212 GAMBLING.
in our ears. " Grant, we beseech Thee, Almighty God,
that like as we do believe Thy only-begotten Son our Lord
Jesus Christ to have aScended into the heavens ; so we may
also in heart and mind thither ascend, and with Him con
tinually dwell." " In heart and mind thither ascend."
" Lift up your hearts." " Set your affections on things above,
not on things on the earth." In other words, Aspire always.
Let your lives be no grovelling, earth-bound lives, with not
a thought beyond and above ; but follow Christ in thought,
in belief, in effort, and let your treasure be with Him.
What can we say to recommend this admonition to you
and to ourselves ? It is easy, though painful, to point to our
own actual lives, and to urge the contrast — their utter aim-
lessness in many cases, their poor and petty aims in most.
But contrasts of this kind, always powerless to sanctify, have
almost ceased to startle. Unless we can gain — rather let
me say, unless God will of His great goodness give us each
and all a real love of Himself, and a spirit capable of follow
ing Jesus Christ, it, is useless to speak of ascending after
Him in heart and mind. We can all feel a sincere contempt
for a purely earth-bound life. Perhaps the young can feel
thus much even more keenly than their elders. But to
despise worldliness is not to love Christ, or to ascend with
Him in heart and mind to the right hand of God. This is
the blessed fruit of Christian prayer long continued, always
extending its horizon, and supported every year by more
and more of heavenward exertion. Learn to know and to
love Jesus Christ, and you will find that more and more of
your true treasure is almost unconsciously transferred to the
place where He has gone.
Now, if any of us deeply feel this truth, and earnestly
long to base their lives upon it, they must, I imagine, watch
very jealously, both in themselves and in others, all habits
which have a direct tendency to degrade or pull down the
mind, and to keep it hovering about paltry and selfish
objects. And from this point of view it seems to me that we ought
to deplore, and do our best to expose and put down that

GAMBLING. 213

lamentable vice of gambling which has taken far too great a
hold on English society. It is seldom profitable, least of all
in a young congregation like ours, to dwell upon great social
faults, because in so doing we are in danger of forgetting those
faults to which we are ourselves more particularly exposed.
But the vice of gambling begins early. It has something
fascinating for boys and young men. It wears the dress of a
spurious manliness. Many a boy would feel rather proud of
being known to be associated with gamblers, and to have
gambled a little himself; and therefore I believe I am not
fighting a shadow if I try to impart to you some of the feel
ings with which I am myself impressed when I read such dis
closures as have within the last week been brought before us.
1'here are two great vices to which English gentlemen
in the upper classes are now specially exposed. The one
is the great sin of bribing ; of making use of their money
to secure their own comfort and aggrandizement at the cost
of the degradation of the poor. This great sin is gradually
leading Englishmen to be ashamed of their Parliament.
They see that English gentlemen and English ladies do not
scout with contempt men who have notoriously bribed their
way into Parliament ; and all that is best and truest in them
rises up against this low morality. It is not too much to say
that unless within the next twenty years bribery is regarded
by the upper classes far more severely than it is now, the
influence of the upper classes will have materially declined.
The sounder elements of the nation will repudiate instead of
welcoming their predominance ; and a moral fall of this
ignominious character is what every lover of his country
ought to long to avert. When some high-principled men,
who have, without their knowledge, been elected by bribery,
shall voluntarily, on ascertaining the fact, resign their seat,
and commence an active crusade against the whole system,
from that moment a reform will begin, and the character of
English gentlemen will present fresh claims to respect. I
can wish no higher distinction for this place than that the
first man thus to sacrifice himself may have been trained to
honour here.

214 GAMBLING.

I have spoken thus briefly on one of the two vices to which
men of wealth and fashion are now tempted. The other is
the vice of gambling ; the vice which always heralds the
decay of states ; the vice which spoils all simple pleasures ;
the vice which ruins domestic peace ; the vice which visibly
vulgarizes and degrades, and makes men so familiar with
the features of dishonour that they cease to be startled
at their deformity.
It is not necessary to define gambling, or to attempt to
draw the precise line where it ceases to be venial and begins
to be base. Nor, again, is it necessary to compare it with
that spirit of exaggerated speculation which infects so much
of our trade, and has of late dealt such damaging blows to
the credit of England. Doubtless all the vices which come
from a base love of money hang closely together ; and when
any one is prevalent, it is almost an accident if the others
do not appear. But I confine myself on the present occa
sion to gambling in its more familiar and grosser form : the
gambling of making bets ; the gambling of risking large or
small sums on the result of a game or a race ; the gambling
which is bringing the long-established sports of our country
men into discredit and contempt, as though they had no
value in themselves but for the paltry sums which are made
or lost upon them.
Do not perplex yourselves with subtle questions why
gambling is discreditable. Trust your instincts ; they tell
you that it is. Who does not rejoice when he hears that a
man who has betted largely has lost heavily ? Who does
not feel compassion for any Englishman who has amassed a
large fortune by successful betting? These instincts are
sure guides. I appeal to them with confidence. I do not
believe there is a boy or a man here present this evening
who believes in his heart that gambling is right. He may
apologize for it ; he may satisfy himself that it is not worse
than other customs which pass muster in society; but I
cannot believe that in his heart of hearts he regards it as
otherwise than wrong.
The subject may be viewed from many sides. I would

GAMBLING. 215

ask you to look upon it from the ground furnished by our
text, " Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."
The habit of connecting personal gains and losses with a
chance so uncertain as that of a race or a game tends to
concentrate the mind's powers on what is essentially mean
and earthy. It is intensely exciting. It engrosses the
thoughts. It prevents them from embracing loftier matters.
It is purely and absolutely selfish. A man who gambles lets
us know at once where his treasure is. It is on earth, and
among the very poorest, if not the foullest, things that earth
can supply. It is sad that a soul born for heaven should be
absorbed and possessed by even the nobler occupations of
. earth : but that a man should rivet his peace of mind,
perhaps the whole future of his family, perhaps the entire
fortune of which God has made him the temporary trustee,
upon the mere running of a horse, or the skill of a player,
does surely seem one of the most ignoble baits by which the
aspirations of a human being can be chained to earth.
And then, does not all experience prove that gambling
and honour can seldom travel long together? Sooner or
later they are almost sure to part company. It would not
be true or fair to say that every gambler is a dishonourable
man. It is the bare, naked truth to say that no society of
which gambling is the characteristic occupation will long
be unstained by the grossest fraud. Gambling develops
just those baser parts of our nature which education and
religion should control — minute attention to personal gains ;
a craving to win, come what may ; a preference of chance
to exertion ; an utter indifference to the losses, perhaps the
ruin, which our own successes imply. The hard-hearted-
ness of professional gamblers is proverbial. The reason is
that, having chosen an occupation which can by no possi
bility benefit others, which does not profess to have in it a
particle of what is the sole salt of human life, self-sacrifice,
they pay the inevitable penalty. They care only for them
selves. Success, from having been an idol, has at last
become a necessity: and when men are once enthralled
by such a necessity as this, so purely selfish, so utterly

216 GAMBLING.

divorced from any moral principle, do you suppose they
will long shrink from unfair attempts to ensure success?
Will there not be what is called "sharp practice?" And
will not this sap all the finer sensibilities of the mind, till a
man finds himself palliating an artificial morality which, to
an unprejudiced mind, is simply a systematized dishonesty?
But it is needless to argue when experience returns a uni
form verdict. Show me a society of men where gambling
is the prevailing occupation, and I will show you a society —
I care not to what rank they belong — where cheating and
finesse are parts of its atmosphere, and where chivalry and
simplicity, the true virtues of gentlemen, are by common
consent laughed down.
And now, my brethren, why is it that from this place,
sacred to higher things, I have ventured to bring before
you this deplorable canker of modern society ? I will tell
you frankly. It is because I do not feel sure that you all
recognize its essential meanness, or that you are all perfectly
free from it. I fear that in this, as in other matters, some
of you are tempted to ape the follies of the great world,
and to fancy that this means manliness. To keep a book
with cleverness, to have pledged yourself to a sum which
you have no chance of paying, to be known to have won
largely or lost grandly, this is supposed to add lustre to a
boy's position, to bring him credit for knowledge of the
world. And I will own to you, as I read the disgraceful ex
posures which the newspapers reveal, the sad thought comes
over me, Is this beloved place preparing victims for such a
degradation? Is this place, which ought to be the home
of chivalry and honour, the proud nursing mother of one
generation after another of " profitable members of the
Church and Commonwealth " — is it teaching what might be
learnt in any stable, subservience to the most worldly of all
worldly fashions ? There is no body of gentry which can
long withstand the contempt which habits of gambling inevi
tably inspire. Can it be that of those who hasten the decay
any will arise from a place like this ?

GAMBLING. 217

The one preservative is to fill your hearts betimes with
noble images ; with a contempt of all gains that come by
chance, and not by labour; with lofty visions of working
for the good of others ; and so, if God wills, building up for
yourselves an imperishable name, not as the scandals of a
class, but the benefactors of a people. Lofty passions drive
out mean cravings. We must all have excitement of some
kind, and it is to excitement that gambling owes its charm.
Let our excitement, our ambition,1 be to lead an unworldly,
a Christ-like life, fastening upon the noblest, and not the
corrupt and feverish elements of our time. "Where our
treasure is, there will our heart be also." It is no dull thing
to try to be a Christian. It is an achievement ; it is
an enterprise capable of absorbing our keenest energies
in youth and in manhood. Set your heart upon this ; then
the treasure will not fail you.
1 Comp. t Thess. iv. 11. $iAoTifiEj<r0ai -^ovxl^i.v.

June 2, 1867.

SERMON XXIX.
EYE-SERVICE.
Ephesians vi. 6.
" Not with eye-service, as men-pleasers ; but as the servants of Christ,
doing the will of God from the heart. "
What a motto for a whole life ! Thoroughness, reality,
genuineness, heart in whatever we do ; nothing for show,
nothing servile ; and this, not because we have a lordly scorn
for pretences of all kind — scorn will carry us but a little
way towards right-doing — but because we are " the servants
of Christ," and because the desire to please God for His
sake supersedes all other motives, and gives a dignity to
service which might otherwise be repulsive.
St. Paul is speaking, you remember, to slaves, slaves who
have become Christians. He is telling them how even
their slavery may be submitted to in a spirit which is not
slavish. If they cared only about pleasing their earthly
master, if all they feared was his anger, if they had no wish
to do well anything which did not fall under his own eye,
this spirit was essentially servile, untouched as yet by the
emancipating hand of Christ. But let a change once come
over their hearts, and then the burden of their labours would
also be changed. Let them grasp the conviction that they
were servants not of man but of Christ, and that their work
could be made an offering to Him, and then there was an
end to earthly degradation. The work might be the same,
but it could depress and degrade no more.

EYE-SERVICE. 219
What St. Paul urged on the slaves of Ephesus is just as
applicable to freemen like ourselves. There are now, and
there always will be, two modes of life ; the free mode and
the slavish mode. The one will be, in some shape or other,
eye-service and men-pleasing; the other will be heart-
service, happy and cheerful because it is offered to God.
Our own life here furnishes the most obvious illustration
of this truth. A few moments' thought will make you see,
more clearly than any definition could explain it, what is
meant by "eye-service" and "men-pleasing;" and most
thankful shall I be if the thought leads to a more com
plete integrity and thoroughness in the life of any one
who hears me.
Think, then, what countless opportunities you have here
of showing whether, as we say, you work on principle, or
whether you simply try to satisfy a master, calculating
nicely how little exertion will enable you to escape absolute
failure, and then limiting all efforts by that low standard.
One of the most depressing discouragements of an earnest
teacher is the misgiving that a boy is simply working because
he is compelled ; neither taking interest in his work, nor
making up for a lack of interest by a manly sense of duty.
He knows that work of this grudging kind leaves no impres
sion. It takes no hold of the mind. It calls out none of
those spontaneous energies which are the fruit of a free
spirit, and of nothing less noble.
And this grudging, calculating expenditure of effort is
not only unfruitful of good ; it is very fertile in evil. It
leads gradually to a lowering of the whole tone of the
moral character. People who never do anything beyond
what they are obliged to do, or what they get credit and
applause for, come to disbelieve in disinterested energy.
The very idea of excellence for its own sake passes out of
the range of their conceptions ; and to speak yet more
gravely, but with no less truthfulness, the custom of looking
only for man's approval, or rather of seeking to escape
man's disapproval, impairs and saps the noble instinct of
desiring to please God by simply doing right.

EYE-SERVICE.

And this moral deterioration shows itself in a society like
ours in very vulgar ways. How easily any one of you could
frame, from what he has himself observed, the picture of a
boy at school who had no higher aim than just to avoid
coming into collision with a master. You know the tricks,
the evasions, the well-timed forgetfulness, the unlawful helps,
the downright falsehood, which are but too apt to follow ;
faults which no one has any respect for, but which we do not
sufficiently refer to their true source, that of indifference to
God and servile submission to man alone. How often do
tempting thoughts suggest themselves to many among you :
" It is not worth while to take much trouble about this. If
we know it badly, we may very probably never be dis
covered. The chances are in our favour; and even if we
are discovered, there may be some loop-hole of explana
tion." Now, as I have implied, faults like these are so
common in boyhood that we almost lose sight of their
essential wrongness ; and perhaps it may seem to some as if
there were something of exaggeration in referring to them
from this place. But I 'would ask any who think so to
repeat quietly these words of St. Paul, " Not with eye-
service, as men-pleasers ; but as the servants of Christ, doing
the will of God from the heart." Do you not see how the
words go to the very root of many of the characteristic faults
of a society like ours ? They are addressed not to mature,
but to immature Christians. They do not refer to great
crimes or temptations on a grand scale, but simply to the
petty faults of neglect and half-heartedness most natural to
servants. And yet you see how St. Paul meets them by re
minding them, not of the meanness of such faults, but of their
Christian profession, as though he would bring Christ into
the whole framework of their life, trying to make them feel
the completeness of that " new nature " which their union
with Christ presupposed and confirmed ; well knowing that
if this conviction could once be firmly grasped, all minor
infirmities must in time disappear before it.
And this is precisely the faith which we must endeavour
to keep alive in our own minds, and to help you to

EYE-SERVICE.

cherish. We must never shrink from saying in the presence
of faults which perplex and grieve us, " You are Christ's
children ; and to do you justice, you wish to continue so.
Try hard to realize the grandeur of this position. It is one
of perfect freedom. It is one of unfaltering courage. It is
one of unflagging entrgy and thirst for excellence. If you
think solely of what will please God, you cannot be servile,
or evasive, or frightened. The thing cannot be. There is
no temptation to it. It implies a low standard, which by
the supposition you have already transcended."
But though I have selected an avowedly common class of
boyish faults as an illustration of this great principle, I would
not for a moment have you limit its application to faults of
this nature. As I said before, there are two modes of life — the
servile and the free ; the one looking towards man, the other
looking towards God ; the one thinking most of appearance,
or what is inaccurately called effect, the other thinking only
of reality, and allowing appearances to be what they choose.
When we listen to an earnest sermon on truth, or when we
read some stirring anecdote or some beautiful passage of
poetry in which, the nobleness of reality is contrasted with
the meanness of affectation or hypocrisy, we are all apt to take
for granted that our own practice, as well as our sympathy,
is on the right side. If, indeed, a side had to be chosen,
we should not hesitate. We should in a moment rank our
selves with those who were content to be good and upright
and thorough, whether the appearance which they presented
to others was favourable or otherwise.
But practically, as we know, opportunities do not arise for
definitely choosing sides, and the question is rather this — a
question which no one can answer for any but himself — How
far does the thought of living for effect enter into the mental
framework of any among us? Can any part of our life's
work be fairly called " eye-service " ? Is the best part of it
that which is seen by men, or that which is seen by God
only ? Do we get ample, and more than ample, credit for
all the good that is in us? Or do we belong to that
smaller class who rise to our thoughts and command our

EYE-SERVICE.

reverence whenever we think of the final judgment ; those
who during life have been misrepresented, undervalued,
unknown, or only half-known— the rough, the dull, the
reserved, the ungraceful — whose work has nevertheless been
wrought " as ever in the great Task-maker's eye," and has
received the approval which will one day be declared ?
I should expect the best of us to admit that there is much,
very much, in his life that he could not honestly call real ;
that some of his work would be less well done if it were only
to be submitted to the Divine scrutiny ; that some of the
qualities for which he gains most credit, and which most
conduce to his popularity and influence, would be discarded
as hardly worth cultivating if God alone were to be pleased.
This is that strange twilight between good and evil which is
so dear to satirists. In the broad daylight of simplicity, or
in the gloom of crime, the picture of human life ceases to be
interesting. But the region of inconsistency, of infirmity, of
high aspirations baffled by ignoble falseness ; the interlacing
of self-sacrifice with vanity, and of love of God with fear of
man — here is, indeed, ample ground for satire ; ample
ground, too, for humiliation and self-distrust from those
who look with reverence on that human nature which
was made in God's image, and consecrated for ever by the
Redeemer's life.
Perhaps no more useful counsel could be offered to any
one bent on leading a noble life than simply this : Always,
wherever you are, do best those parts of your work which
are least likely to be tested by human scrutiny. All dis
honesty begins by thinking of what will tell, or what will
pass, rather than of what really is. The tradesman who
only cares to satisfy ignorant customers ends by selling what
is worthless, and becomes a cheat. As soon as painters or
sculptors begin to adapt their style to the supposed taste
of the public, instead of following honestly the inspiration
of their own genius, the decline of art sets in, and is soon
followed by the decay. And so it is with the moral life
of all, men or boys alike. " Eye-service " in any form ;
a di position to shirk all difficult labour of which the result

EYE-SERVICE.

will never be applauded; a willingness to be ignorant
if the ignorance is not discovered ; an admiration of moral
qualities, as firmness, truthfulness, good temper, less because
of their loveliness in the sight of God, than because they
conduce to a successful career — these are all symptoms of
moral disease, which eats away, if it be not checked, all
that is genuine and noble in the soul.
We live in an age which sets a high value on " effect,"
and encourages us to sacrifice much to it. It is something
to recognize the danger, and not to recognize it merely, but,
so to speak, to appropriate it, and feel that we must indi
vidually make a bold stand against it. The text of which
we have spoken may furnish you with a sort of watchword,
indicating the spirit in which the battle should be fought. I
would specially single out the words as servants of Christ,
Grasp that thought, " I am Christ's servant. I owe Him an
allegiance. I dare not give to any man, or any set of men,
what is already due to Him." Grasp, I say, that thought, and
you have the most sure guarantee of victory. And then
do your best to push the victory by practical wisdom.
Cultivate habits of thoroughness for its own sake. Do as
well as you can whatever you are engaged upon. Be
anxious not to shine, or to produce, but to know. Be
specially careful with those parts of life's duties which do
not come under observation — private prayer, the manage
ment of leisure, the reading of the Scriptures, which we
can make either thorough or superficial. But the great thing
is to desire to be true. "Try me, O God, and seek the
ground of my heart; prove me, and examine my thoughts.1
Give me the heart of childhood. Let me seek to please
Thee, and Thee alone ! "
?. * Ps. cxxxix. 23.

June 2,0, 1867.

SERMON XXX.
RICH AND POOR.
Si'. Luke xvi. 19, 20.
" There was a certain richman,which was clothed in purple and fine linen,
and fared sumptuously every day : and there was a certain beggar
named Lazarus, which was laid at his gate, full of sores. "
I desire to speak to you this evening on a subject which
appears to lie very remote from your school life, and I very
much doubt whether I shall be able to make it at once
intelligible and interesting. The subject is that old and
gloomy one — the contrast between the rich and the poor —
the strange inequality of gifts which practically divides what
was meant to be a family into two classes who hardly know
each other. I have no special reason for bringing the sub
ject before you, beyond the fact that the Gospel for the
day repeats once more its yearly warning ; while if we look
abroad upon our country, we hear, in tones that no whirl of
personal prosperity can stifle, the loud sullen cry of discon
tent from the labouring classes in the capital, in the pro
vincial towns, in the country districts, telling us virtually that
if we are satisfied with the life we lead, they are not satisfied
with theirs ; that our wealth and comfort and refinement are
regarded by them rather with envy than with sympathy;
and that they will persist in criticizing that contrast which
we accept as a birthright, and almost as a law of nature ;
the poor man toiling seventy years not for advancement
but for subsistence, and the rich man clothed as gaily as
he desires, and faring sumptuously every day.

RICH AND POOR. 225
One hardly knows where to begin in this vast subject
Perhaps this matters but little, if only a thought here and
there can be brought home with reality to your under
standings and your hearts. N
Let me, then, first ask you to remember what a strange
contrast there is between the position which the poor man
practically occupies in the world, and that which he occupies
in the Bible. There he is represented, if we may say so
with reverence, almost as the "favourite" of God. There
he is reminded of his rights even more than of his duties.
Legislators, Prophets, and Psalmists rise up to plead for
him, and as it were seat themselves by his side. He is
assured that God cares for him. In words of tenderness
that he must love and prize, if he is ever able to read
or hear them, his wrongs, his necessities, his coming de
liverance, are pressed into the ears of the great ones of the
earth. The Bible is dear to all who are in sorrow. Our
sorrows have but little to do with earthly privations. The
sorrows which try us most, and most endear the Bible to us,
are the loss of those we love, and the feebleness which
baffles our struggle against sin. And to us, therefore, the
Bible comes as God's own comforter, when it assures us of
a " strength made perfect in weakness," and bids us sorrow
not for them that sleep as " others which have no hope."
The poor man finds these personal comforts in the Bible,
for he too is not spared by death or temptation ; but how-
many more does he find, the force of which we can hardly
appreciate. Think, if you can, what it must be for a poor
man, whose heart is weary with hope deferred and bowed
down perhaps by family distresses, to come upon such words
as these, even though he can scarcely spell out their force :
" For the poor shall not alway be forgotten : the patient
abiding of the meek shall not perish for ever." 1 " Arise, O
Lord God, and lift up Thine hand ; forget not the poor.
That Thou mayest take the matter into Thine hand, the
poor committeth himself unto Thee; for Thou art the
helper of the friendless." 2 Or those verses that we repeated
1 Psalm ix. 18. 2 Psalm x. 13, 16.
Q

226 RICH AND POOR.
this morning : " Who is like unto the Lord our God, that
hath His dwelling so high, and yet humbleth Himself
to behold the things that are in heaven and earth? He
taketh up the simple out of the dust, and lifteth the
poor out of the mire."1 And then the whole life of
Jesus Christ — to us our Lord and Saviour; to him this,
and also the friend, the representative of the poor, because
one of themselves ; the son of poor parents, the follower of
a trade which implied poverty, the Master of poor disciples,
surrounded always mainly by poor multitudes, selecting as
the most cogent credential of His Divine mission the almost
paradoxical characteristic that " to the poor the Gospel was
preached," 2 and cheering the souls of His followers by the
emphatic declaration : " Blessed be ye poor : for yours is
the kingdom of God."3
But I must not multiply such passages. I only wished
you to observe in passing how high a position the poor
man holds in the Bible, and to contrast with it the position
Which he practically occupies among ourselves.
I will not attempt to draw any painful pictures of the
misery which belongs to extreme cases of poverty, though
even you must be aware that these are neither few nor rare.
The sun which has gladdened so many hearts to-day, and
covered our trees and fields with such golden beauty, has
but increased the stifling heat in many an overcrowded,
fever-stricken garret. But to pass from these common
places to others yet more commonplace. Does it not come
to this ? The world is made, is adapted for the rich. Can
you conceive any external change which would bring you in
more ample stores of happiness ? Could any political or
social readjustment bring you personally more of what you
value most ? Would it give you — would you care to have —
more friends, more money, more amusement, easier means
of obtaining knowledge, a position more assured, a defer
ence, nay, an obsequiousness more instinctively paid ?
Could you put such a question to the poor man ? Take
no extreme, no unfavourable case. Take such a case as
1 Psalm cxiii. 5, 6. - Luke vii. 22. s Luke vi. 20

RICH AND POOR. 227

you see again and again about your own happy homes.
Think of the life of an ordinary labourer, as well paid as
most of his class. He has freedom, security from insult,
perhaps a bare competence, perhaps uninterrupted health,
perhaps a kind master, perhaps a few books, with the ability
to read them. Reverse all these perhapses — it is no extra
vagant supposition — and the picture is sadly changed. But
assume their truth — is the life thus delineated one which
you can compare with your own without some painful,
uneasy feeling at the magnitude of the contrast? Is it
nothing to pass through the long years of life uncheered by
any of its refinements ; almost compelled to disbelieve that
"the life is more than meat and the body than raiment j"1 with
hardly any of the pleasures or of the softening and elevating
influences which come through taste and knowledge ; with
scarcely any leisure, any variety of occupation, or any hopes
of seeing his sons and daughters succeed to a life more
human than his own ? Is it possible for any high-minded
man to reconcile himself, or to expect that the poor will
reconcile themselves to this position of unrefined, unrelieved
monotony by any of the well-known commonplaces — the
more sad when they are true — that it is not for a man's
happiness to be "educated above his position," or by the
cynical saying of the old French statesman, " If nations were
well off, they would hardly keep within the rules?"2 No !
it cannot be better for any man, be he rich or poor, to live
a life of the body or even of the affections only; No one
who appreciates that great gift of God, the human intellect,
can repose in the conviction that for the enormous majority
of God's children all the higher developments of that gift,
all its beauty and all its grace, are to be for ever proscribed.
And yet at the present moment how abject is the ignorance — ¦
so abject that in many instances the very desire for improve
ment is a thing unknown.
1 Luke xii. 23.
2 " 'Si les peuples etaient a l'aise,' avait ecrit Richelieu dans son
Testament Politique, ' difficilement resteraient-ils dans les regies.'" — ¦
Quoted by Tocqueville in " L'Ancien Regime," liv. ii. chap. xii.
Q 2

228 RICH AND POOR.

But it may be said, contrast is not argument. Granted
that our cup overflows with comfort, and that the lot of the
poor is deplorably meagre, that does not prove that we are
in the wrong, still less does it tell us what we can do to
redress the balance. True : it is no part of my duty from
this place to attempt to shadow out the means, or any one
of the countless means, by which the lot of our poorer
countrymen and fellow-Christians can be sweetened. That
is the business of statesmen. It is the noblest part of their
calling. All that a Christian minister can do from the
pulpit is to mould the hearts of his hearers so that they may
be willing to look at this strange inequality with Christian
and not with worldly eyes. And from this point of view
contrast is argument. If you can once be brought to feel
the amazing difference between your own advantages and
those open to the mass of the poor ; to feel that you have
done nothing to deserve them, and yet they crowd upon
you daily; to feel that the poor cannot get necessaries, while
you can hardly refuse superfluities and luxuries ; there is
sufficient generosity in you all, yes, and sufficient knowledge
of the mind of Christ, to lead to some serious searchings of
heart. " Is my feeling towards the poor a Christian one ?
Can I justify the contemptuous language with which I so
often speak of them as a class ? Were they created merely
to receive wages, in order that such as I should have time
to amuse themselves ? Can it be right that I should devote
a whole life to the amusements of society while their most
elementary wants are unsupplied ?" Such thoughts as these,
if once aroused, cannot be wholly barren. They will be
remembered, by some at least, in after years, when the
power of giving effect to them has at last arrived. Mean-
while they will, at least in some cases, blend inseparably
with the hopes and dreams with which boyhood forecasts
and almost claims the future.
To do something to sweeten the lot of the poor; to
be their trusted and honoured friend ; to study their wants,
not from books only but from intercourse ; to give them
not help only, still less patronage, but that far rarer trea-

RICH AND POOR. 229

sure, the gift of sympathy ; to enlarge the ground, at
present so narrow, on which they and the rich can meet
together ; to help them to obtain and to use wisely more
leisure, more refinement, healthier homes, cheaper law,
more instruction for their children, more religious guidance
and solace — these are the outlines of a career. Some of
you may have the ambition to follow it. Is it too much
to hope that with some among you this ambition has
already begun? There are some, so we learn from great
men's biographies, who are very early struck by that por
tentous contrast between rich and poor of which I have
spoken to-day, and who really feel some abatement of
their own happiness in the recollection that it is shared by
so few. It troubles their whole vision of life. It pains
them to see reproduced, even at their own doors in a
Christian land, that old picture of luxury and misery — the
rich man clothed in purple and fine linen, and faring sump
tuously every day ; and the poor man, whose only crime was
his poverty, laid at his gate and desirous to be fed.
Here you are being educated either for life or for fashion.
Which is it? Many of you leave us in a few weeks, and
we shall see you again but seldom. What, then, are your
ambitions ? Is it to continue, with fewer restrictions, the
amusements which have engrossed you here ? Is it to be
favourite or brilliant members of a society which keeps
misery and want at a distance ? Would this content you ?
Is this your idea of " life " ? Or may we not hope that you
have a nobler conception of what a Christian manhood may
be made in a country so rich in opportunities as our own
now presents? And will you not sometimes, as you enjoy
the refinement and the sympathy of your own class, call
to mind those touching words of your Master : " Other
sheep I have, which are not of this fold : them also I must
bring, and they shall hear My voice ; and there shall be one
flock,, and one Shepherd." 1
1 John x. 16. See page 11,

June 23, 1867.

SERMON XXXI.
PROGRESS.
Psalm Ixxxiv. 7.
" They will go from strength to strength!'
The thought of Christian life as a progress is, I suppose,
familiar to us all. The genius and piety of Bunyan have
impressed on the minds of most Englishmen, young and
old, rich and poor, the picture of a Pilgrim's Progress — a
man beginning with gloom and despondency, but pushing
on ; meeting on his road many, allurements and many
terrors, but still pushing on; often "faint," but still "pur
suing;"1 till at last the cold river of death is passed, and
the music of the Celestial City begins to break upon his
ears. We have all, I say, long been familiar with the
picture, and yet I doubt whether the great truth which it
so beautifully portrays is very often present to our minds.
For consider what is meant.
If we are truly Christ's servants, we must be making way
in our heavenward journey. We must be, as the Baptismal
Service reminds us, "daily advancing in all virtue and
godliness of living." Whatever our age, we must be what
the Scripture calls "growing in grace."2 Our store of
spiritual wealth must be becoming richer. We must not be
stationary pilgrims, much less must we look back, or, which
is the same thing, begin to take steps backward.
1 Judges viii. 4. 2 2 Peter iii. 18.

PROGRESS. 23

Self-examination has its danger, but I question whether it
is ever more entirely free from danger than when it makes
us ask ourselves : >' Am I making advance as a Christian ?
Do I find it easier to keep down old temptations ? When
new temptations come, am I better equipped to repel
them ? Is it a greater pleasure to me to think of God and
Christ ? Do I find it more natural than it once was to let
the thought of being Christ's servant enter into my common
occupations?" If we are sincere with ourselves, the answers to these
questions must in many cases be very humbling. Disguise
it as we may, many of us must feel that advancing years
have not brought us nearer to the Christian standard. We
are a little ashamed of early zeal. We are a little more
disposed to make compromises with what is not Christian.
We come to a tacit agreement with ourselves that with a
certain part of our lives, perhaps our tempers, perhaps our
work, perhaps our expenditure, the Christian standard is
not to be rigidly pressed. We are a little impatient when any
voice or book or inward prompting insists on reminding us
that God will have no half-service ; that if our eye be single
our whole body must be full of light, having no part dark j1
and that "whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet
offend" persistently "in one point, he is guilty of all."2
But though these humbling thoughts are very necessary,
it is often more serviceable to turn our eyes away from
ourselves altogether, and to think of a real Christian
"progress ;" to think of its steps, of its helps, its encourage
ments; to think how one Christian brother after another
has strength made perfect in weakness, or, in the beautiful
words of the psalm, does indeed "go from strength to
strength." Notice, then, the nature of the progress, from strength to
strength. Surely the very words are specially appropriate
to a large proportion of those who are here this evening.
You are preparing, honestly and earnestly as I well believe,
for Confirmation. You have been reminded that the very
1 Luke xi. 34, 36. 2 James ii. 10.

232 PROGRESS.
meaning of that service is that it is a service of strengthen
ing, and that the great blessing to be expected from it is
that it may fortify your weaknesses with a strength not
your own. Think then all of you — but you, my brethren,
especially — of a progress moving on from strength to
strength. Think of some of the stepping-stones which are
likely to mark and to measure its advance.
I am not about to paint any very extraordinary ideal.
Doubtless there are at times manifestations of early good
ness which simply astonish us, but we must not speak of
these as if they were common. I desire to speak of such a
progress as you must often have witnessed, and such as you
will feel to be within your own reach.
I will suppose, then, that a boy has been brought up in
an English Christian home. It may not indeed have been
all that fancy likes to paint in a Christian home. There
may have been too much worldliness in it, and too little
self-denial. The parents may not always have been saintly
in their lives, or wise in their discipline. Still in the main
they have wished to be Christians, and they have earnestly
wished that their children should be Christians. They have
taught them how to pray. They have encouraged them to
bring all their troubles and weaknesses to God. They have
led them to think of faults as sins. They have shown them
how deeply pained they themselves were when any child
was guilty of disobedience or untruthfulness, and they have
gently inspired them with the belief that these faults were
displeasing to God. If there has been sickness or death in
the family, probably these heavenward promptings have
been more marked and more visibly earnest. The healthy
have seen that the sick child was committed to the care of
an unseen Father and Friend. The survivors have seen that
their parents sorrowed not as those who have no hope.
Then, again, there have been quiet Sundays — days different
from other days, and yet, let us hope, not days of gloom.
If customary amusements have been suspended, other
occupations not less interesting have been substituted.
Perhaps on that day the child has seen more of his

PROGRESS. 233

parents; perhaps on that day, their tone and manner have
been more than ordinarily affectionate. Perhaps, either
playfully or earnestly, they have been able without an effort
to lead the thoughts of their children to things which are
above. Now these simple customs leave an impression, and many
a child dates from such impressions the first " strength "
granted to him in his Christian progress. He tells the
truth when he is sorely tempted to evade. He gives the
confidence which he is tempted to withhold. He gains the
victory by a strong struggle over a temper which has led
him to be irritable and unkind. Who will dare to dis
parage the " day of small beginnings " ? It is by these
early victories that the kingdom of God is won. It is on
these unseen yet solid foundations that the steps of saintly
progress hereafter are by God's mercy indelibly planted.
But soon a change must come. The value of the early
training must be tested. Where and how will that be ? I
am not speaking to an average portion of God's great family.
I am not thinking of the thousands of poor in our towns or
our country villages. I am thinking of the hundreds brought
up like yourselves — a very small, a very peculiar, may I not
say a very favoured portion of those who are all alike equally
the children of our heavenly Father.
Think, then, of your own experience. Let us follow the
child such as we have described him to the next marked
epoch of his life. Probably it is the preparatory school.
He brings to it the simple conquests of which we have
spoken. That is at present his stock of spiritual " strength."
Will he go on from " strength to strength," or will the new
strain be too severe for his constancy? He will have to
cope for the first time with one temptation absolutely new.
He will find a public opinion, not necessarily of the whole
body, but beyond a doubt of some section of it, which, so
far from encouraging him to be good, ridicules his good and
tempts him to do evil. If, my brethren, we could spare
from our busy self-seeking lives a fragment of intercessory
prayer for all who are in danger, believe me it could not be

234 PROGRESS.

offered more acceptably to our common Father than on
behalf of those young children who at their first school for
the first time are tempted to be ashamed of their early
scruples, and in deference to a supposed public opinion to
forget the covenant of their God.1
I am supposing in the present instance that the result is
not a defeat, but a victory. Who shall measure this fresh
accession of " streagth " ? When at night, on that for him
critical and eventful day, the young boy returns thanks to
God for having enabled him to detect the new enemy, to
hold his own against ridicule, to choose the good and to
refuse the evil, who cannot see that a fresh and a most
momentous step in the Christian progress has been gallantly
Won ; or, to adopt another and perhaps a yet more stirring
figure, that a fresh flag of victory has been triumphantly
planted over one of the most formidable redoubts by
which the onward march was in danger of being arrested ?
Henceforward to the " strength " of piety will be added
something of the "strength" of courage,, and the last is
more than the first. The boy will be able to cleave fast
to the right, not only when inward passions tempt him to be
untrue, but also when outward influences make it hard to
see his way.
And not to dwell longer, though it would be easy to
do so, on this first stage of school probation, let us follow
him to the next scene with which we are all so familiar.
Suppose that any one is so blessed of God that he brings
with him here something of the " strength " of early piety,
and also something of the " strength " of tried courage ;
what do you suppose is likely to be the next stage of his
progress ? First he will confirm the conquests already
won ; for if it were hard to hold fast piety and courage
where he was before, who can deny that it is harder now ?
But there will be not only holding fast, but positive
advance. He will learn here — I can imagine no better
training-ground — to see the manliness and the safety of
diligence, the cowardice and the danger of indolence. ' He
1 Prov. ii. 17.

PROGRESS. 235

will see how the first braces the whole character and shields
it from a thousand polluting influences ; and how indolence,
on the other hand, saps a boy's sense of duty, throws him
among frivolous or ungodly companions, and leads him
by a too sure progress, the gloomy counterpart of the
Christian's progress, into every kind of despicable evasion.
Further, over and above this twofold "strength" of
sustained diligence and dread of untruthfulness, he will
learn the great secret of helping others to do right. He
will see that neither men nor boys are meant to stand
always on the defensive. He will see that there may be
union for good as well as combination for evil ; that this
fact lies at the very root of the Church of Christ ; and that
the glory of each individual Christian is to cement the
bonds by which this noble union of hearts is bound together.
School life, if earnestly watched, will give him abundant
opportunities for throwing his weight into the scale of
struggling good, and for purifying the moral tone of the
society in which he is thrown.
Often, no doubt, he will make mistakes, but he will find
in failure a fresh source of " strength." Nay, in the onward
progress from " strength to strength " he will find few more
valuable allies than his own failures, because they will force
him to remember, what even*the veteran combatant cannot
afford to forget, that human strength is at the best weak
ness, and that man's noblest and best enduring conquests
are won upon his knees alone with God.
For let us not suppose that he who thus resolutely sets
himself to battle with evil and to encourage others in good
will be left by God to fight this battle alone. One of the
chief " strengths " added to him will be an ever-increasing
assurance that God is very near him ; that the declarations
of Scripture on this point and the experiences of good men
have not been phrases or delusions, but that if a man or
boy cleaves to God, God will take his side, assuring him
inwardly but unmistakably of His support, and bidding him
persevere. This inward conviction, which when it has once
taken root can never wither, is one of the most precious

236 PROGRESS.
of all the " strengths " which give nerve to the Christian's
progress. And do not doubt that it may be granted to the
young. School life is not too early for the conscious recep
tion of this blessing.
There is one " strength " further which I will just mention,
and then we will accompany the traveller no longer, feeling
sure that if he has this, he will reach his journey's end in safety.
He who has progressed thus far, and is sure that God is
his Guide, will long to know more about Him. The Gospels
will be no sealed book to him. There he will find his God
in form of man. The person of our Lord Jesus Christ will
become to him, even in his youth, not only the most
majestic figure in history, not only the most attractive and
the most intensely interesting character that either reading
or imagination can supply, but, I speak not unadvisedly,
his own personal Friend, his own Saviour from sin, his own
ideal of all that is most august in man and most truly
divine in God.
Never let us suppose that this conviction is deferred
naturally, or can be postponed safely, to later years. It is
in early youth that the affections are most warm, whether for
earth or for heaven. " It is in youth," says a great and
holy man who understood more than most men the hearts
of the young, " it is in youth that the after tone of the mind
is happily formed, when the natural burst of thought is
sanctified and quickened by God's Spirit, and we set up
within us to love and adore, all our days, the one image of
the truth of God, our Saviour Jesus. Then, whatever else
may befal us afterwards, it rarely happens that our faith
will fail. His image, implanted in us, preserves us amid
every change. We are counted worthy to escape all the
things which may come to pass, and to stand before the
Son of Man."1 '
Yes, he who has been gently led from "strength to
strength" up to that crowning "strength" of all, the simple
love of the Lord Jesus Christ — his is a "progress " which
already grasps something of the goal; and even before he
1 Arnold's Sermons, " Christian Life, its Course," &c. p. 116.

PROGRESS. 237

plunges into the dark river he catches something of the
light and hears something of the sounds that come from the
Celestial City. " If his love for Christ be true,
Christ hath told us of his end :
This is he whom God approves,
This is he whom Jesus loves." 1
And if this be so, the thought of early death cannot for
long be very, very painful. It ought to sober us ; it ought to
rouse us from selfishness; it ought to enlarge our sympathies;
above all, it ought to quicken our dread and horror of sin :
but it ought not to distress us that one more of our young
body, who, as we believe, humbly and consistently sought
his Saviour, has been early taken away from temptations to
come. Those of you who knew him best know that I speak
the simplest words of truth when I say that he was a really
Christian boy ; more than ordinarily free from boyish faults ;
more than ordinarily gentle and diligent and docile ; and
not pure only and dutiful, but, according to his measure of
strength, a true Christian. Certainly the change comes with
suddenness. He heard the last words that I spoke from this
place. Probably among all that were then assembled here
those words may have seemed most real to him ; for he of
whose recent death I then spoke was our friend, but his very
dear relation.2 And now the great change has come to him
also, and we can give humble and hearty thanks to God
that both the man and the boy are together and at rest
with Him.
May He grant that when we next mourn for a friend or
a brother, the hope with which we commit them to the
grave may be no less sure and certain ! May they all " go
from strength to strength," till "unto the God of gods
appeareth every one of them in Sion."
1 Christian Year : Hymn for St. John's Day.
2 The allusion is to the death of Robert Marcus Bright, aged 15,
and of his uncle, the Rev. Edwyn Henry Vaughan, for so many years
an Assistant Master at Harrow.

February 16, 1868.

SERMON XXXII.
NATIONAL EDUCATION.
Psalm Ixxviii. 5-7.
" He made a covenant with Jacob, and gave Israel a law, which He com
manded our forefathers to teach their children ; that their posterity
might know it, and the children which were yet unborn; to the intent
that when they came up, they might show their children the same. "
Every generation has its own special work to fulfil. Some
times that work is war; to fight for a country's indepen
dence, to strain every nerve of body and mind that that
precious gift of God may be transmitted to after times. A
terrible destiny this, to have war imposed upon us as for the
time our one absorbing duty. It must be absorbing. A
nation fighting for its existence must for the time put aside
almost all other public cares. And therefore we find that
during war other duties become practically forgotten. The
blood and suffering which war exacts are almost the least of
its exactions. It is seen in its true light when we look at
the poor it has ground down, at the tracts of land it has
thrown out of cultivation, at the thousands upon thousands
whose education it has postponed, at the false estimate of
national glory and prosperity which it has contributed to
foster. Happy is that generation whose first and most
pressing duty is something less onerous than war.
What is the pressing duty of our generation ? Here the
Pulpit, the Press, and the Parliament are at one. With one
voice they declare, The most pressing duty of the England

NATIONAL EDUCATION. 239
of our day is to educate her people. To gain clear notions of
what education means ; to awake to a deeper conviction of
its nobleness and necessity ; to re-forge old instruments and
to create new instruments for extending its dominion, and
to bring under this beneficent sway every class from the
richest to the poorest — this is the great national duty of our
day ; this is the work visibly prepared for the latter half of
this eventful century.
It is plain that if the importance of this great subject is to
be brought home to a young congregation such as this, the
preacher must confine himself to a very general treatment.
True, no practical advance will be made except by those
who have an intimate knowledge of details. But nothing
would be gained — indeed most of you would only be con
fused — if I were to attempt to lay before you what are the
chief difficulties in detail with which the most earnest friends
of education have now to contend. I must content myself
with trying to lay before you a few very simple thoughts, in
the hope that they may inspire the wish to serve God here
after in this most noble field.
In the first place, then, we want in England a much
keener desire for a good education. The rich ought to
desire it much more for the poor. The poor ought to desire
it much more for themselves. First, the rich ought to desire
it more for the poor. What is as a rule a rich man's ideal
of what a poor man's education ought to be ? Many of you,
I am sure, can to a certain extent answer this question. At
your homes many of you see members of your own families,
perhaps your parents, perhaps your brothers and sisters,
interesting themselves in the education of the poor. It is a
blessed thing for a neighbourhood where this kindly duty is
to any extent recognized and accepted by the rich. Even
if it does not result in a very perfect education, it at least
tends to draw hearts closer to one another and to knit
together classes which might otherwise be complete strangers.
But even under these favourable circumstances one is
obliged in candour to ask, What is as a rule the rich man's
ideal in England of what is a good training for the children

240 NATIONAL EDUCATION.
of his poor neighbour ? Is it not miserably meagre ? Does
he not almost instinctively think of the minimum that must
for very shame be extracted, rather than of the large capa
cities which some at least in every hundred are sure to
possess ? Some knowledge of the Scriptures, some power of
reading a book or writing a letter, or casting up accounts
for the purposes of trade — is not this tacitly assumed by
many to be the standard with which the vast mass of the
children of this great country must be content ? The
hundreds may aim higher ; but for the millions this must be
the allotted food.
Nay, we must push the question home a little closer.
When we think of the education of the poor, do we not
almost always take it for granted that, whether educated
or not, the interval that separates them from our own
class is to remain pretty much the same ? We are ner
vously anxious, as the phrase is, that they should not be
"educated above their position;" and though such an
apprehension is by no means utterly baseless, yet is it hot
often quite as much due to an unconscious class jealousy
as to a sober sympathizing estimate of the real and perma
nent obstacles in the poor man's path ?
The opposite view to that which I am combatting would
be something of the following kind ; and I only wish it
might appear to many of you so natural, so much a matter
of course, as to be scarcely worth mentioning.
We can conceive the gentlemen and the ladies of England
penetrated with an earnest desire that to the poor of the
land, no less than to themselves and their children, every
possible element of intellectual refinement as well as of
religious consolation might be gradually imparted. They
would not indeed be so enthusiastic as to suppose that any
schools could ever wholly or approximately compensate for
the vast advantages of wealth and leisure. They would not
ignore the too obvious fact that those who have to labour
at rough work, in the fields or the shop, are almost inevit
ably tempted to abridge the years of learning in order to.
supply pressing necessities.

NATIONAL EDUCATION. 241
But while not ignoring these disadvantages they would
seek to minimize them. They would do all that they
could, through legislation or otherwise, to make schools as
efficient as possible, to prolong the years of school training,
and to give opportunities for continued instruction even
when these years of special study were necessarily ended.
They would desire for the poor those elevated and
humanizing tastes which they prized most themselves :
some real knowledge of the noblest English writers ; some
power of sympathizing with the thought of foreign countries ;
some love, which can always be gratified in large towns,
for the conceptions of artists ; some graceful intelligent par
ticipation in that intense enjoyment — 7neant surely to be
universal, and in fact almost universal in some foreign
countries — with which the mighty masters of music have laid
their spell upon all lands and all ranks.
Now, the question is whether any such ideal as this
would not at the present day be set down as fanciful by
most rich men in England. Few of us look at possibilities.
Most of us look at facts ; most of us assume a necessary
degradation, and only hope it may become a little less:
degraded. Yet there is a "more excellent way." It is
possible to "pitch our behaviour low," but our hopes
and our " projects high ;'' to assume that degradation is>
unnatural, and that even for the poor a highly cultivated
intellect is not for ever a chimerical vision.
But then it may be said that the poor have no wish for any
thing of the kind. If there were a demand, there would be
a supply. Alas ! the truth is that in all matters affecting the
soul or the intellect, the so-called laws of supply and demand
have no existence. Nay, even the power of wishing — that
solace of the destitute — is in such cases dormant. The
poor man may wish for riches. The sick man may wish
for health. The unoccupied man may wish for labour:
But the ignorant man is often the last to wish for know
ledge. The man who springs" from a stock which has
for generations been debarred from all that makes up
refinement, scarcely dreams of what refinement is. He
R

242 NA TIONAL ED UCA TION.
has no such ideal, and therefore he does not strive to
attain it.
One of the chief duties of the rich in our day is gradually to
lead on the poor to a far more earnest desire after education.
The absence of this desire is one of the most painful symp
toms of our national disorder. This is what chiefly strikes
those inquirers who have most thoroughly investigated the
subject — the deplorable absence of an earnest desire to be
educated. They find it in Scotland ; they find it in Switzer^
land ; they find it in America ; they find it in Prussia ; but
in our own historic England, the wealthiest of all countries,
the country whose energies have been least encumbered by
invasion or revolution, they find it lamentably feeble. And
yet till this desire exist — till parents are convinced that their
children have a right to a loftier type of existence than has
been granted to them, and that it is their duty to make
sacrifices for its attainment ; till this elevation of idea be
comes current in the land — as much an element of the
popular convictions as the love of liberty or the respect for
law — till then this crying want must be unsatisfied. Thou
sands upon thousands of the sons of Englishmen will be
born predestined by a necessity of man's making — but also,
thank God! within the scope of man's removal— to alow, dull,
meagre type of life, uncheered by the thousand elevating
influences by which God wished all His children to be
gladdened. For let us not imagine that the God of the
Christian has no interest in culture of this kind. To say
that religious knowledge is " the one thing needful," and
that so long as the poor have this it matters but little what
else they lack — such language, pious as it may sound, is in
reality to take God's name in vain. Who gave us the right
to map out the poor man's mind, and to say, this part may
be illumined by religious knowledge, that -other part on
which secular knowledge might find a kindly soil may safely
be allowed to continue a desert ? I find no such sharp line
either among rich or poor separating what is secular from
what is religious. I find in both a complex nature, full of
wonder, in which mind and spirit are inextricably blended.

NATIONAL EDUCATION. 243
Each affects the other. The life of the spirit is incom
parably the nobler, but it is intended to gather force and
range by sympathy with the life of the intellect. If this latter
life be stunted, I will not say that the religious life languishes,
but I do say that it loses that breadth and power which
would enable it to extend and deepen its influence. But
the truth is that there is no natural alliance between piety
and ignorance. The conception of a nation very ignorant
and very devout is a fancy, not a fact. We need have no
fear that in elevating the poor man's vision to take in some
what more of the nobler things of earth, we are tempting
him to set his heart's affections on aught less exalted than
"the things which are above."
And now, is not this ideal of which I have spoken some
thing worth living for and working for? Would you not
rejoice that your children should be able to say of you
hereafter : " He was one of those who took a foremost part
in making life nobler and sweeter for the poor. In serving
the cause of education, he was serving the cause of God :
he was helping to transmit from generation to generation
that sacred deposit of a love of knowledge, a reverence
for high thoughts, and an intelligent attachment to Chris
tian truth, which a^e the most precious of a nation's historic
possessions?" I chose for my text words which contemplate the grandeur
of thus transmitting without a break the sacred inheritance
of the knowledge of God. " He made a covenant with
Jacob and gave Israel a law, which He commanded our fore
fathers to teach their children ; that their posterity might
know it, and the children which were yet unborn ; to the
intent that when they came up, they might show their
children the same."
What a noble description of a national education ! Is it
not in virtue of this invisible charter that we are all assembled
here to-day ? The particular duty to which I now invite you
is a very humble one. It is to continue your annual gift to
the schools of this village. Would that it could be doubled
or trebled ! When I was told the other day that more teach-
R 2

244 NATIONAL EDUCATION.
ing power is there imperatively required, and that where there
is but one regular teacher to seventy scholars no adequate
results can possibly be obtained, I felt an eager desire that
some of the overflow of your abundance might contribute
to swell the scanty stream of that great necessity.
But be that as it may — be your gift more ample than is
usual, or confined within its conventional bounds — the chief
thing that we can wish for you, in connexion with this
subject, is that you may feel thus early something at least of
its transcendent importance. It is the custom with some to
ridicule the dreams of youth. God forbid that I should ever
dare to disparage one of the grandest gifts that God has
bestowed upon the young ! No ; I would say, Dream on, and
dream far more. Let your thoughts dwell upon a possible
future grander than anything you have ever seen. Fill with
your imagination the years that may be to come, and the
duties that may be awaiting you. But let not these dreams be
bounded by self. Summon up before them the cause of your
country, which is the cause of God. Forget not the com
plaints, and the yet more fatal silence of the poor ; and pray
that the ennobling of your own life and the gratification
of your own happiness may be linked hereafter with some
public Christian labour, and especially with the illustrious
task of educating the poor of this too long neglected land.
March 13, 1868.

SERMON XXXIII.
DARKNESS.
Psalm cxxxix. ii.
" The darkness and light to Thee are both alike, "
When we first take service in the army of Christ, and hope
to acquit ourselves worthily as His soldiers, we are all
tempted to make, perhaps unconsciously, some secret stipu
lation that the reward paid to us shall be ample and speedy.
Happiness in some form we claim as our right. We dwell
on those passages of Scripture, and those assurances of
Christian friends, which promise that it will be well with the
righteous. We think of a mind at peace with God, and " in
perfect charity with all men." We look forward to a constant
growth in spiritual strength. We see bright visions of
the luminous path of the good on their heavenward road
" shining more and more unto the perfect day."
These visions are good for us all. It is good for us to
see our Lord at times on the Mount of His Transfiguration,
and to feel ourselves invested, if only for the moment,
with some of the light which streams from His presence.
But we must not stipulate for this. We must make no
bargain with God. Gradually He will teach us by His
discipline that His is a service without conditions, and
that we must be prepared for darkness as well as light.
We sometimes fancy that darkness is precisely what we
cannot bear. The heart of man will never cease to bear

246 DARKNESS.
 I  __
its witness of sympathy with the noble cry of the Grecian
hero, when " a horror of great darkness " enshrouded him,
and he could not see the foes with whom he had to
combat : "Lord of earth and air !
O King ! O Father ! hear my humble prayer !
Dispel this cloud, the light of heaven restore ;
Give me to see: Thy servant asks no more.
If we must perish, we Thy will obey,
But let us perish in the face of day. " 1
But noble as this prayer was, there is a yet nobler prayer
which God expects to hear at times from the lips of His
soldiers. " Give me, O Lord, light, or give me darkness :
but give me only the assurance that Thou art near. The
darkness is no darkness to Thee ; but the night is as clear
as the day : the darkness and light to Thee are both alike."
How far can we, my brethren, put up to God this more
than heroic prayer? Let us think of some kinds of dark
ness ; and as we think of them, let us ask ourselves silently,
whether we do or can find repose in the conviction that
even there God is not absent from us, but that even the
darkness is His minister for our good.
There is the darkness of perplexity. If ever it be worth
while to think over what have been our most unhappy
moments, we shall find that they have been those when our
mind was divided. Take the case of a new-comer among
us. If he is an earnest boy, really desirous to do his duty,
half of his trial, and that the bitterest half, consists in not
seeing his way clearly. Something is suggested to him
which does not at once carry upon its face the stamp either
of downright good or downright evil. He cannot feel quite
sure whether it is right or wrong. There is something sus
picious about it ; but on the other hand those who are older
than himself, and have known the school far longer, and
would be recognized as very competent representatives of
its traditions and morality, see apparently no harm in the
course proposed, and indeed follow it habitually. Here,
1 Iliad, xvii. 645. j

DARKNESS. 247

then, for many comes in the darkness of perplexity, and no
doubt this time of moral twilight is a very dangerous time
to the principles of the young. And the more in earnest
they are, the more painfully will they be conscious of its
cold, clammy, benumbing touch. At such a time may they
not find comfort in the words of that noble psalm which we
repeated this morning ? The language of their hearts would
be, " Lord, give me light, make Thy way iplain before my
face." But then " another Scripture saith," and brings surely
some answer of peace : " The darkness is no darkness with
Thee. The darkness and light to Thee are both alike."
And then, again, there is the darkness of shame after relapse
into sin. Are there any here to whom this form of inward
darkness is a darkness which has been felt 1 Can I be speaking
to any to-night who during the last few weeks have been
honestly struggling against besetting sins, and did fondly
hope that after their Confirmation these particular enemies
would have been wholly destroyed, and that they would " see
them again no more for ever "?1 And are these self-same sins
now beginning to rear their heads once more, declaring that
they were not killed, far from it, but that they only thought
it politic to hide their heads for a time ? And more than
this, one question more : Has the temptation been yielded
to, and have they who thought themselves strong, strong
with the strength of God, strong for ever- — have they now
learnt that they are still miserably weak, and that the old
battles have to be fought over again, with a deeper sense of
shame, and scarcely a more animating hope than in those
former days of weakness which ought surely never to have
returned ?
My brethren, I put these questions to you, to each of
you, especially to one large portion of you who have
not yet passed out of our thoughts. / cannot answer
them. I cannot tell how you will answer them. But this
I know, that there is scarcely anything so paralysing to the
energies of a young soul seeking after God as the sense of
shame for sins renewed. It is truly a darkness, a " darkness
1 Exod. xiv. 13.

248 DARKNESS.

which may be felt," a " horror of great darkness," a darkness
which makes us doubt whether there is a light beyond, and
whether we are ever destined to emerge victorious from its
depressing and degrading canopy. If ever the voice of
hope and of Christ is needed, it is when this demon of
despair is striving to crush us down. O if we could but
believe that while we despise ourselves God does not despise
us ; that the pang of penitent shame is in His eyes better
than the thrill of unreflecting hope ; that when we are
saying, " It is of no use to try again, I am so miserably
weak," He has chosen the moment for bringing home the
assurance, hitherto unrealized, " My strength is made per
fect in weakness ; " l if, in short, we could believe the words in
their spiritual meaning, " The darkness and light to Thee
are both alike " — surely we should gather fresh might from
our defeat, and learn in the darkness of self-distrust the
secret of final victory.
Or, again, think of another darkness, the darkness of
gloomy, distressing thoughts. I know not how it is — no one
can tell how it is — but every one knows that the sky of
human life, whether among the old or the young, is never
long together free from clouds. The proverbs of every
language bear a touching, if a trite, witness to this strange
interlacing of light with darkness, and darkness with light,
which makes up the complicated tissue of human life. Old
thinkers in heathen times spoke of Nemesis and the " envy
of the gods," as if the gods felt aggrieved when mortal
happiness was too unchequered. We speak, hardly more
intelligibly, of the power of reaction ; of the ebb and flow
of feeling ; of the fleeting phases of the most stable human
temperament, which " never continueth in one stay." But
across all these varied phrases, which describe the different
interpretations that men have put upon their own unrest,
lies the- deep abiding fact that the heart will have its hours
of: darkness. The bitter will soon well forth from the
fountain -of sweets. In the midst of joy we are in gloom.
The light in, which for the moment we live and move is
1 2 Cor. xii. 9.

DARKNESS. 249
already arrested by obstacles which cast a shadow and
threaten an eclipse. At one moment we accuse ourselves,
at the next our neighbours. We have no nobleness of our
own. Or, on the other hand, nobleness, high feeling, generous
thoughts are concentrated in us, and we find no sympathy
from others. " We have no place to flee unto : no man careth
for our souls." Or, again, our acts have been misrepre
sented, and what we meant for honesty has been set down
as pride ; and where we believed that we were sacrificing
our own will, we have seemed to be thwarting the will of
others. Whatever the cause, the stream of our life is
ruffled. The sun is no longer calmly reflected on its
troubled waters. A cold light may still be there, but the
warm bright sunshine has vanished.
Now, these are the hours or moments when we are
tempted to be unbelievers. The " still small voice " of con
science is inaudible, and the Lord " is not " in the gloom.1
We scarcely recognize our former selves. Creatures meant
for hope and energy and outpouring of heart to heart, we
have forfeited our rich inheritance, and know nothing of
the glory in which we have hitherto believed. The thoughts
which we once held to be the very bread of man's life ; to
return good for evil ; to repay slight with courtesy ; to pray
that our will might be one with God's ; to look forward to
difficulties that we might gain strength by overcoming them,
to injuries that we might practise magnanimity ; to devote
ourselves ungrudgingly to some unselfish cause, and be
willing to take the lowest and least conspicuous place in
bringing it to a happy termination, — all these high thoughts
in our hours of darkness seem mere figments of an ex
ploded enthusiasm. The example of Christ is no longer
an example. We lose our faith in Him, when we lose faith
in that human nature which He came to glorify and to
redeem. But here, again, let us listen to the voice of the Psalmist :
" The darkness is no darkness with Thee. The darkness and
Jight to Thee are both alike." Once let us grasp the truth
.1 I Kings xix. II, 12.

250 DARKNESS.

that God who made the light made the darkness also, and
that He wishes us to feel alone that we may at last be alone
with Him ; from that moment the darkness lifts. It be
comes tolerable. It has a purpose, a work, yes, a work of
God. It is not to be despised or groaned under, but to
be borne, and to be reverenced. God is suffering us to
feel His loss that we may grope after Him, and find Him
more securely. He is hiding His presence that it may be
come more dear. Nay, " perhaps it therefore departed
for a season, that we might receive it for ever."1
I need not dwell at length on the darkness of sorrow —
sorrow, I mean, for the real trials of life, those which depend
not on a wayward mood, but on a re,al loss. In darkness
of this kind the religious sense of men, certainly of Chris
tians, has always recognized the near presence of God. It
is a darkness — we would not explain it away — to lose dear
friends and relations by death. We see them no more. We
have not any longer that full inlet of affection. All the
happiness that sight brings with it, all the memories it re
assembles, all the loving auguries it justifies, this happiness
has now failed us. All of this is dark ; and to our poor
faculties, even when sharpened by affection, and illuminated
by a Christian's faith, the darkness and light are not alike.
We do not see what sight had helped us to love, and we
miss what we do not See. But then our text reminds us
that it is not so with God, and that when we are most with
God, it is least so with us. The darkness and the light are
both alike to Him. Those dear friends who have gone
down into darkness and silence are in light with God. Our
darkness is no darkness to Him. Our night is His and
their eternal day.
Thus much is the simplest dictate of Christian piety, but
there is yet another form of darkness where perhaps we do
not sufficiently recognize the presence and the ordering
hand of God. I mean the darkness of religious doubt,
and I mean so much of it, surely a large part, as cannot
in fairness be set down to indifference, to pride, or to
1 Comp.. Philemon 15.

DARKNESS. 251

ungodly living. To an older congregation it might have
been well to enlarge more on this kind of darkness : for the
present I will only say that those who are tried by even the
extreme shadow of this darkness, and groan under its chilly
touch, need most of all to cling to the central conviction
that here too, where full faith is not, God is.
" Even here also shall His hand lead them, and His right
hand shall hold them," if only they will not "cast away
their confidence, nor place it anywhere but in Him."
" He made the darkness and the light,
And dwells not in the light alone."
He sees what is faith, and what is unbelief. He looks at
the heart, not at the lips. Nay, He is more merciful to us
than we are sometimes to ourselves. Even where our
hearts condemn us, " He is greater than our hearts, and
knoweth all things."1
But there is one darkness where we dare not venture to
say that God is — that darkness which is self-chosen; the
darkness of those who " rebel against the light," 2 and hate the
light ; seeing good, but deliberately choosing evil ; stifling
their consciences lest they should sin more remorsefully ;
hearing the voice of God, and knowing it to be His, but
closing their ears to it, and wishing it were silent.
This is the darkness of which Scripture speaks mournfully,
but in no doubtful tones. It speaks of an outer darkness,
where God speaks and is seen no longer. It warns the
presumptuous follower of self-will : " If the light that is in
thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!"3
From this darkness may His mercy keep us ! In all
other darkness may He lead us by the hand ! " Who is
among you that feareth the Lord, that obeyeth the voice of
His servant, and hath no light ? Let him trust in the name
of the Lord, and stay upon his God." 4
1 1 John iii. 20. 2 Job xxiv. 13. 3 Matt. vi. 23. * Isa. iv. 10.
March 29, 1868.

SERMON XXXIV.
THE FORGIVENESS OF SINS.
St. Luke v. 12, 13.
" And it came to pass, when He was in a certain city, behold a man full
of leprosy: who seeing Jesus fell on his face, and besought Him, saying,
Lord, if Thou wilt, Thou canst make me clean. And He put forth
His hand, and touched him, saying, I will: be thou clean. And
immediately the leprosy departed from him."
St. Luke v. 20.
' ' And when He saw their faith, He said unto him, Man, thy sins are
forgiven thee."
I have read these two passages from this morning's
lesson, because they both help us to understand one of the
greatest Christian truths, I mean the cleansing, purifying
power of the Gospel. In the one passage the Lord is
cleansing the leprosy of the body, in the other the leprosy
of the soul. To the one sufferer He says, " I will ; be thou
clean." To the other He says, " Thy sins be forgiven
thee." If I mistake not, the forgiveness of sins is a truth to
which consciences in our day are more than usually in
sensible. Among all the articles of the Apostles' Creed I
question whether there is any one to which our hearts make
so faint a response as the declaration, once at least so
emphatic, " I believe in the forgiveness of sins."
Try to consider with me very briefly whether this is a

THE FORGIVENESS OF SINS. 253
true statement. So long as there is any religion at all in
the world, it will, of course, busy itself with the eternal
question of the difference between right and wrong. It will
in some sense make itself the champion of right, and in
some sense the enemy of wrong. But then wrong-doing
may be very differently regarded, even by religious men..
Roughly speaking, it may be regarded as directed either
against man or against God; either as an injury or an
offence ; either as a weakness or a wickedness ; either as
a defect or a sin.
Roughly speaking, again, the world takes the former
view, Scripture the latter. The sentence of worldly men
and of the natural conscience is, " I have injured him, and
I must do what I can to make amends." The sentence of
Scripture is that of the Psalmist: "Against Thee, Thee
only have I sinned, and done this evil in Thy sight." l
Now it is plain that the language of the world is much
easier to understand than the language of Scripture. The
most ignorant man and the youngest boy have no difficulty
in conceiving of wrong-doing when directed either against
others or against themselves. If you have said anything
untrue against another, if you have treated him unkindly,
or rudely, or slightingly, something at once tells you that
this is an offence against him, and requires to be retracted.
Or, again, when you are yourself the victim of your own
wrong-doing ; when you find that self-indulgence makes you
more and more a slave to the worst parts of your own
nature ; when bad thoughts secretly fostered begin to take
a terrible hold of your imagination, and pull you down to a
level which excites your own contempt, you feel but too
acutely that you are doing yourself a cruel injustice. You
are spoiling your own higher life. You are making yourself
something feebler, poorer, baser than the mysterious some
thing within you allows you contentedly to be.
But it is one thing to feel all this, and another thing to
feel that we are offending God, and that in short our wrong
doing is sin. To be sure of this is a distinct act of faith.
1 Psalm li. 4.

254 THE FORGIVENESS OF SINS.
If any one chooses to say, I have no such consciousness,
you cannot prove to him that he has. To believe that our
wrong acts are sins against God, implies that we believe
that there is a God, that He is a holy being, that He calls
upon us to be holy, that He has a right to our obedience,
that He can in some way or another make His will known
to us and also help us to keep it. And all these are direct
exercises of faith, by no means an easy thing, but so hard
a thing as to require, so Scripture assures us, the special
aid of God the Holy Spirit. It is one of His peculiar
functions to " convince the world of sin ; '' 1 in other words,
to make men feel that many things which they think right
are wrong, and that all things which are wrong are sins
committed against God.
Now is this really a common belief? Do you find it, for
example, in such literature as you have access to ? Remem
ber you hardly ever read even a novel which did not in
some way deal with questions of right and wrong : the writer
had to pronounce or at least to imply an opinion one way or
the other. Yet I am sure you will admit that as you read,
the thought scarcely ever entered into your mind whether
the -meannesses or crimes of the worse characters had in
them anything of the nature of sins. And so, again, in
society, whether at home or here. You have heard endless
discussions upon conduct and upon characters, and much
condemnation passed upon both ; but in the vast majority
of instances the critics will have left no impression upon
your minds that they were even dreaming of sinfulness
when they spoke of baseness. And then, perhaps, in the
evening you turned over the pages of your Bible, — " went "
to use its own beautiful language, " went into the sanctuary
of God ;"2 and there you found, possibly with surprise, that
the purely human side of wrong-doing was almost ignored.
God was everywhere, not man. Not the wide extent of the
injury, not the terrible degradation of the offender, not the
affront offered to society at large, none of these was the
aspect from which the offence was mainly considered. No ;
1 John xvi, 8. 2 Psalm Ixxiii. 16.

THE FORGIVENESS OF SINS. 255
there was a solemn, terrible, most earnest iteration : Evil
is sin. Evil done to man is sin against God. And then,
as the counterpart to this dread sentence, goodness also
was held up in its godward aspect : not so much, " Be
true to yourselves. Be worthy of your lofty nature. Be
worthy of the high destinies of humanity : " but, " Be ye
holy, for I am holy.1 Whosoever is born of God doth not
commit sin." 2
I might easily pursue this part of the subject, and remind
you that those, who find it hard to think of wrong-doing as
sin against God find it also hard to think of good in direct
relation to God. What I mean is this, and it is worth your
while to reflect upon it : If at any time sin as sin is thought
little of, the prevalent ideal of goodness among Christians
will be that of doing good to man rather than of walking
humbly with God. Philanthropy, in short, will take the
place of holiness. And I think we see many signs of this
at the present day, signs which we are bound to hail
with thankfulness, even while, as Christians, we note their
deficiencies. At the present day, as many of you know, great store is
set on works of mercy. The state of the poor in England
presents an urgent necessity, as well as an unbounded
field, for earnest, energetic attempts to bring health to their
bodies and light to their minds. A religion which fails to
recognize this paramount duty is so manifestly a lifeless
religion, that we are tempted to regard energy of this kind
as the highest, if not the sole, test of spiritual soundness.
But assuredly this is not the teaching of the New Testa
ment. The New Testament pleads the cause of the poor
and the weak with an eloquence and a power that no other
system has even approximately equalled. But none the less
is it true that the burthen of the Gospel message is not
energy in good works, but forgiveness of sins. First the
deep consciousness of sin ; then the eye uplifted to the Cross
of Christ ; then the assurance of sin forgiven ; then as the
fruit, the. natural, the necessary fruit, of this assurance, a life
1 I Peter i. 16. 2 John iii. 9.

256 THE FORGIVENESS OF SINS.
of self-devotion to Christ and Christ's brethren: this, if I
' may so express it, is the order of the soul's progress ; this the
true Christian development ; this the " rising upon stepping-
stones of our dead selves to higher things."
And if a history of holy works could be written, and the
chart of gracious Christian deeds could lie open before the
eye of men as it does lie unrolled before the eye of God,
we should find, I believe, that all could be traced to the
deep fount of penitence and thankfulness for sin forgiven.
So far as the hearts of men are disclosed to us in Christian
biographies, this is what they teach. There is one sacred
centre from which the "line" of loving self-sacrificing heroism
is " gone out through all the earth," and its " words to the
end of the world." x That centre is the Cross of Christ erected
on Calvary ; and those who gaze upon it, and whose names
are now associated with every daring exploit of love, are the
men and the women who believed in the " forgiveness of
sins." They loved much because they were forgiven much.
They " of whom the world was not worthy " once held them
selves unworthy to be called God's children. But from that
utter self-abasement they learned, what nothing else can
teach, the meaning of the Cross : they learned God's hatred
of sin, and they learned to hate their own sins more. And
then, as the burthen of them became intolerable, they
learned also the greatness of God's love. Such love could
never be meant to be confined to themselves alone. It
must embrace all those who had sinned like themselves,
those who knew not as yet that they were sinners. If it
had softened their hearts, it could soften all. There was
no man, and there never could be any man, so steeped and
hardened in sin but that he might become their fellow-
worker in proclaiming the purifying power of Christ.
Such is the connexion between a true heart-deep belief
in the forgiveness of sins and those devoted prodigies of
love and daring which have ennobled and transformed the
world. I assert fearlessly, such is the teaching not of
fancy or of enthusiasm, but of history and of fact. No less
1 Psalm xix. 4.

THE FORGIVENESS OF SINS. 257
potent spell has ever worked, or ever will work, such mighty
miracles. And now, my brethren, are there any among you who
complain that what has been said has no direct bearing
upon yourselves ? I will admit to you that it has no direct
bearing unless you are personally conscious of sins, I dare
not call them foibles or weaknesses, but sins from which you
pray to be set free. If you are not conscious of anything of
the kind, do not pretend that you are. But then, if you are
not, I cannot help saying to you in all seriousness that
Christianity has no special message to offer to you. I might
indeed offer you advice more or less timely on many points
from which, if you were wise, you would derive help in
living happily and usefully. But as Christ's minister I
could not speak to you. I could say nothing to you which
might not be said with equal force by one' who owned
another, a merely human master.
Christ assumes our sinfulness as the very basis of His
work. He speaks to us as sinners — but as sinners loved, not
despised ; and there is all the difference. His words and
His deeds have an interest indeed and a charm for thousands
and thousands of thousands who are, as yet at least, but little
burthened by a sense of sin. But it was not to interest
these that He came and lived and died. He " came not
to call the righteous," or the sensible, or the indifferent, or
the critical, "but sinners to repentance." That was His dis
tinguishing work. All other works — the unfelt duties He has
revealed, the dormant philanthropy He has stimulated, the
social kindness He has aroused, the august institutions He
has founded and hallowed — all these works, glorious as they
are, are but secondary to His great design. He is first and
chief, the " friend of sinners." " He shall save His people
from their sins." 1 " He shall see of the travail of His soul,
and shall be satisfied : by His knowledge shall my righteous
Servant justify many ; for He shall bear their iniquities."2
Are we amongst these ? We are most of us prosperous
and happy. Few or none dare to put to us any heart-deep
1 Matt. i. 21. 2 Isa. lui. 11.

25S THE FORGIVENESS OF SINS.
question. But1 oh, amid the tide, sometimes the tumultuous
tide, of happiness and prosperity, is there never an under
tone which speaks truer than all other voices,? Does it not
say to one and all, in childhood, in youth, in manhood,
With tones equal in tenderness, but ever deepening in
solemnity, — does it not say to each and all, " Child of God,
have you yet found time to find out your sins ? Busy as
you are, have you found leisure to throw them before God ?
Are they so trifling and so natural as to make you discredit
the whole claims of revelation ? Or are they so grave in
the sight of your heavenly Father that even for them alone
it was needful that the Holiest should die?"
June 21, 1868.

SERMON XXXV.
WHAT SHALL IT PROFIT?
St. Mark viii. 36.
" What shall it pi-ofit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose
his own soul?"
It has been well said that there are some " passages of
¦ Scripture which come down to us not only armed with their
Divine authority, not only relying on their intrinsic excellence,
but invested with a long train of recollections, bearing with
them the trophies and spoils of the strong men of the earth
whom they have vanquished, calling upon us to listen to
them by virtue of the victories they have already achieved."1
The passage before us is one of such passages. We can
point to one illustrious life at least which it was commissioned
by God to purify and exalt. Some of you, I believe, will
remember the part which it bore in the spiritual subjugation
of the great missionary, Francis Xavier. He was a man to
whom the world offered her most seductive gifts. She gave
him rank, learning, eloquence, brilliant wit, fascinating
manners, inexhaustible mirth ; just the gifts that the better
among you would most covet for yourselves. He felt their
attractions with the sensitiveness of a rich nature. He sur
rendered himself for a time to their spell. But by God's
providence he came within the grasp of a spell yet more
potent ; the influence of a friend whose will was stronger
than his own, and whose knowledge of God was incomparably
more profound. This friend gave him unbounded sympathy;
sympathized with his mirth, exulted over his intellectual
1 Stanley's Canterbury Sermons: Sermon x. p. 150.
S 2

260 WHA T SHALL IT PROFIT?
triumphs, freed him from pecuniary embarrassment and
anxiety. And then, we are told, after having thus stimu
lated his love of life by giving him what all high but un-
sanctified natures covet most, the belief that they are
appreciated, he would check his pride by the ever-recurring
question, " What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the
whole world, and lose his own soul ? "
Take earthly life, he would seem to say, at its best.
Crowd it with successful energy, troops of faithful friends,
an intellect capable of grappling with the most abstruse
problems, a vast capacity for pleasure with every means of
procuring and retaining it, and what is all this ,if weighed
in the balance against the soul ? " What shall it profit ? "
Two questions meet us on the very threshold of this great
subject. What is meant by the " soul," to which this para
mount value is ascribed? And why should there be any
natural enmity between this "soul" and the "world?" Why
should the gain of the whole world be likely to hazard the
loss of the soul ?
The " soul " is man's higher life; the life not of the body,
nor even of the intellect, but of the feelings, the affections, the
aspirations. A man may ignore this higher life, and do his
best to drown and stifle it ; but he cannot divest himself of
it. It is part of himself. Willingly or unwillingly, worthily or
unworthily, he- must carry it about with him till death and
through death. There is a. for ever stamped visibly upon it.
He can ennoble, or he can degrade, but he cannot destroy.
To "lose- the soul" in scriptural language is to spoil this
higher life ; to quench the Divine Spirit by whose fire alone
it burns ; to lose the capacity of caring for God and for all
those lofty things which we believe to be dear to God and
the natural heritage of man. And if we ask ourselves,
How can we know whether we are losing our souls or not?
the answer seems to be, You are losing your soul, you are
doing, slowly perhaps but surely, what you can to make the
restoration, the re-inspiration of your higher life impossible,
if you are gradually losing your love for God, your interest
in all things high, your unselfish devotion to others, your

WHA T SHALL IT PROFIT? 261
faith in the paramount claims of duty over your own
personal inclinations, however legitimate they may be.
We need perhaps say no more to show the value of this
higher life. It is plain that the loss of it, nay even the
temporary eclipse, admits of no palliative and no compen
sation. But why should the gain of the " world" imperil it ?
Is there any irreconcilable enmity between the two ? Here
experience gives the answer. Theoretically it is quite pos
sible to win the world and to win the higher life as well ;
to seek with ardour, and to enjoy to the full what are called
in pagan language the gifts of fortune; and to consecrate all
in the .spirit of thankfulness to the service of God and the
wants of others. It is possible, because " with God all
things are possible." But it is hard, terribly hard.. " It is
easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle."
I appeal to the consciences of all those who hear me.
Have you not all lived long enough to discover thus much,
that when your mind is set eagerly upon any of the things
of earth, upon success in any shape, bodily or intellectual,
you are tempted to sink to the level of that particular object?
It becomes for the time your all in all. It peoples and
satisfies your imagination. It gives birth to a thousand
secondary interests all like itself, none rising higher than
its fount, all tending to lead away your thoughts from the
higher life, and to make it appear distant and shadowy.
I might endeavour to give this thought an individual
application. I might beg each one separately, after a time
of much excitement, and surely of much happiness, to ask
himself calmly how all this has told upon his higher life.
Each might try to form as clear a conception as possible of
what the higher life meant. Each would put some charac
teristic of it prominently in the foreground. Many, I
imagine, would say almost instinctively that the simplest
test of its vigour and vitality was a relish for prayer.
Others would select forgetfulness or systematic sacrifice of
self. A smaller number might perhaps say that they knew
no better evidence of the genuineness of the higher life
than a sustained width of sympathy ; a heart beating in

262 WHA T SHALL IT PROFIT?

harmony with all that touched the true welfare and the
deepest feelings of all classes of the great family of man.
But each, according to his own idea of what this higher life
implied, might well inquire whether in his own case it had
of late made progress or declined, produced more fruit or
become more barren.
I would, however, beg you, my brethren, on this evening
to give the thought a somewhat different application ; to
think for the moment less of yourselves, and more of the
great body to which we all belong, and whose name was
never perhaps dearer to us than on such an evening as this.
It was my privilege a few months back to hear a great
foreign preacher1 in the French Metropolitan Cathedral re
minding an audience of many thousands that every nation
had a " soul," and that according to the soundness or un
soundness of that national "soul" was the true prosperity
or degradation of the people.
So with a great society like our own. If it is petty when
compared with a nation or a Church, it is not petty when
compared with the individuals who compose it. This school
of ours has its " soul." It has its higher life, its moral life,
its spiritual life, which, like the life of each one of its
children, may be either stifled or developed. In all reverence
and solemnity I ask, " What shall it profit it, if it shall gain
the whole world, and lose its own soul ? " Do you believe
in this " soul " of the school, this its higher life ? Have you
lived for it while here ? Have you worked for it ? Have
you prayed for it? What is your idea of the life of the
school ? What are the signs of it ? Gentlemanly behaviour ?
Yes. Is there anything more ? Manliness ? I might well
pause to ask you what you mean by manliness, and you
would be startled to find how much you were deceived by
mere show ; how much genuine manliness you had ignored,
and how much pretentious and make-believe manliness you
had blindly idolized. But let that pass. Define it as we
may, manliness in some form is a true sign of public life.
If it does in any degree distinguish the school, we are
1 Le Pere Hyacinthe.

WHAT SHALL IT PROFIT? 263
indeed happy. There is something of the higher life here.
But still I would ask, Is there anything more? Kindly feeling,
many of you would say, thinking gratefully of friendships
here formed, never you trust to be divided. Others would
say vigour, and would mean by the term, if they were honest,
success in games. Others would say public spirit, a con
sciousness of belonging to a body greater than ourselves,
and having common interests. But, once again, behind all
these treasures, which we cherish so loyally, one must still
press the question, Is there nothing more? "What shall it
profit?" This is not the " soul." Surely if this is the higher
life, it is not very high.
What is there in this place to ennoble, to elevate, to fill
the heart with lofty images, to become associated, now and
still more hereafter, with the more solemn moments of indi
vidual life ? Great institutions should kindle naturally high
heart-searching thoughts. When we stand in the great Abbey
of Westminster, rich with its memories of eight hundred years,
the mind of the most frivolous is involuntarily awed. So
much of heavenward aspiration is there symbolized, so many
epochs of national life find there their consecration, so
much human worth sleeps below, that we turn impatiently
from the petty turmoil of political party strife, and remember
that in spite of its materialism and self-seeking our country
has a higher life, of which the august Abbey is a symbol.
And is there nothing of the kind at a great school like
this ? One generation follows rapidly after another. What
is the heritage of common thoughts which it .transmits, and
which colours, even if it be not expressed, the sympathies of
those of its members that meet hereafter? Is the "higher
life " reriiembered, or only the trifling, however genial, acci
dents ? Is it remembered that we represent, according to our
measure, the cause which all great nations have felt to be
sacred, and put in the forefront of their polity, the holy
cause of education? Is it borne in mind that unless we
can supply food for reverence, the affection which we inspire
must be comparatively transient ; felt least by those who are
worthiest, felt most by those who are most superficial ? Our

264 WHA T SHALL IT PROFIT?
faith is, that those who have passed some years in a society
such as ours ought to feel when they leave us that they have
been aided to appreciate the true dignity of life — to honour
labour, to reverence knowledge, to despise listless self-
indulgence, to look for their own natural sphere of action
hereafter not among those who lounge, and saunter, and
sneer at all that is earnest, but among those who set God
always before them and live for moral ends. This is our
faith, a faith in the soul, the higher life, of a school. We
shall strive to maintain it unshaken in spite of many a dis
appointment, many a semblance which seems to turn it into
ridicule. But have we indeed been true to our faith? Once more
I ask those of you who are passing forth, if God will, to
other duties, Have you laboured here for this higher life of
our society, or have you been content with those lower
counterfeits which again and again try to persuade Us that
they are our all in all — all that can be fairly expected from
us in the days of youth ? I always feel on such occasions
.as these how far more truly you can estimate one another's
influence than we can do; and also, if I may venture to
say so, how much truer is your real estimate of one another
than that which you are generally ready to avow. There
is always, I believe, amongst you a vast mass of secret
reverence for merit which you do not care, perhaps indeed
are not able, openly to recognize. If each boy were asked
to name the ten most popular boys in the school, it would
be found, I imagine, that there was a tolerably general
agreement. But if he were then quietly to ask himself what
were the ten deaths in the school that would most deeply •
impress him, he would be almost startled to find how wide
was the interval placed by his own deliberate reason between
the qualities which ensure popularity, and the qualities which
ensure respect. If you once grasp the notion of the school
having a higher life, the loss of which infinitely outweighs '
all other gain, then I think you will be able to judge fairly
who of those that are leaving us are most entitled to
our gratitude for having supported this "higher life."

WHA T SHA LL IT PROFIT ? 265
Undoubtedly they are the true benefactors of the school.
They have done what each one of us who fears God and
loves the school would most desire to do. I should expect
to find them as much among the low as the high ; as much
among the dull as the clever. God grants to some men
and boys an instinctive intuition into what is worth living
for, and what is only of secondary interest, and I do not see
that this intuition is granted specially to intellectual vigour.
When the combination does exist, we recognize one of
God's chosen servants for doing great as, well as good
things : but perhaps in the sight of God what we call
" great " is only a little less falling short of the standard
which ought to be attainable by all.
Probably at this moment there is not one in your whole
body who does not secretly wish either that he had been
more true to this faith in the dignity of " soul," or that
he could live true to it hereafter. In moments of farewell,
as in moments of sickness and death, many scales drop off
from our eyes. We see that we have worshipped some
things that either deserved no worship at all, or at least
very much less worship. We see also some things that we
might have worshipped, if only their true nobleness had
been revealed to us more clearly. O let us all believe
more ardently in this " higher life " of the school of which
so much has been said. Let this increasing faith be a
bond between those who go and those who stay. It is
surely a Christian bond. It can only be realized if we
ask Christ to be present Himself among us, holding up
before us the objects at which He would have us aim.
Yes, and it is based upon His own express warning, no less
true of societies than of individuals : What shall it profit
to gain the world, and to lose the soul ? What can be given
in exchange for a soul once disbelieved and forfeited ?
July 26, 1868. Last Sunday of the Quarter.

SERMON XXXVI.
FIGHTING FOR GOD.
Rev. xix. ii.
" And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and He that sat
upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness He
doth judge and make war."
The soldiers of Christ must sometimes make war. No
doubt there are times when the bravest army is not called
upon to take the field, and when the chief duty of the
soldier is to perfect himself in his discipline ; to learn how
vigorous efforts, whether in single combat or in organized
masses, may most successfully be planned ; and to study
carefully his own resources, the character of his comrades,
and the mind of his commander.
But there are also times when practice has done its work,
and the soldier of Christ must show whether he has learned
to fight. And the question which I would propose to you
this evening is the temper of mind in which it befits you at
any time of your lives to contend with evil. I shall try to
describe this temper in general, though in very plain terms,
and leave it to your consciences and loyalty to apply the
lesson whenever and wherever there may seem occasion.
And first I would say, If you are to contend earnestly
with evil, you must yourselves hate it. "Ye that love
the Lord, hate evil,"1 is an inspired saying, needed now as
much as it ever was. To hate evil is not as easy as it once
1 Ps. xcvii. 10.

FIGHTING FOR GOD. 267
was. As people become civilized, and lives become com
fortable, evil is cunning enough to veil its ugliest features,
and to call in the aid of many powerful allies, such as good
nature, common-sense, charity, and even philosophy to say
a word in its behalf. Between them they contrive to produce
a very lenient portrait of evil, and to represent it as an amiable
weakness, or an irresistible temptation, or a conventional
slip, or even an imperfect and undeveloped good. And the
more we look on such kindly but really godless caricatures
of evil, the harder it becomes for us to hate it. We may
pity, and disapprove, and hope some day to replace if not
to uproot, but hatred we cannot give. St. Paul's words
seem exaggerated : " Abhor that which is evil : cleave to
that which is good."1
I repeat then, that if you are ever to fight earnestly against
evil, you must hate it. But here a very important caution
becomes necessary. Do not confound two things which are
very distinct — hatred'of all evil, and hatred of a particular form
of evil. I will show you what I mean by a scriptural example.
A few Sundays ago we were reading of that King of Israel who
is for ever the type of men who hate one evil without hating
all evil. You will remember how Jehu destroyed Baal out
of Israel. I suppose there never was a more sweeping,
crushing reform. Partly by craft and partly by force the
rough soldier, hating cordially the superstitions of Ahab and
his family, blotted out, at least for a time,- the foul stain of
idolatry which had so long polluted the kingdom of Israel.
But Jehu, the vehement, honest reformer, was not really a
good man. He hated the idolatry of such wicked princes as
Ahab and Joram. He hated the foreign vices of such a woman
as Jezebel. But he did not hate evil, and he did not love God.
We have scarcely finished reading the account of his great
success, " Thus Jehu destroyed Baal out of Israel," when
the narrative, so true to life, continues : " Howbeit from the
sins of Jeroboam Jehu departed not. Jehu took no heed to
walk in the law of the Lord God of Israel with all his heart."2
He hated one form of evil, but he did not hate evil.
1 Rom. xii. 9. 2 2 Kings x. 28, 29, 31.

268 FIGHTING FOR GOD.
Now, my brethren, those of you who would fain fight
earnestly against evil, I cannot press Upon you too solemnly
the importance of this distinction. The temptation to con
found the two is sometimes almost overwhelming. A brave
boy cannot endure mean vices. If he hears of cowardice or
falsehood, his whole soul festers into contempt. He longs
for an opportunity of showing by something more than
words that he will have no mercy on what is despicable.
Then, again, every nobler nature loathes injustice.
Nothing would sooner rouse you into indignation, nothing
would sooner stir your blood, than to see some weak and
delicate boy set upon by two or three stronger than himself;
or, again, to hear of some gross act of favouritism on the
part of a master.
And so, again, we know how refined natures hate what
they think coarse; and loyal, reverent natures hate what they
think revolutionary.' And what I want you to notice is
that hatreds of this kind are very apt to be welcomed and
accepted as substitutes for the one hatred which becomes a
Christian, the hatred of evil for its own sake, and because
God hates it. They are delusive because, like our most
dangerous friends, they flatter us. They tell us that there
must be much spiritual life in us if we feel so strongly '
on the right side about a matter which does not concern
our own interests. We cannot be eaten up by selfishness,
still less can we have taken the apostate's course and
fairly joined the ranks of evil. As long as we can hate
anything that is bad, there must be something true and
lofty within us; and we are not too careful to ask our^
selves whether this is enough for a Christian, and whether
even the " publicans and sinners," even those who make no
profession of caring for Christ, have not as much virtue
as this.
And this temptation of which I am speaking, and speak
ing I hope intelligibly, seems to me peculiarly strong in the
case of boys. To young Christians the first consciousness
of openly contending against evil is a new sensation of the
most thrilling kind. It is not too much to say that it is

FIGHTING FOR GOD. 269
sometimes bewildering and intoxicating. To get free for
once from selfishness even in religion, to have a chance of
putting to the proof armour which we have for some time
been preparing, to be able to join in imagination the sainted
ranks of those good and wise and daring soldiers of the Cross
who have in all ages Of the world flung themselves into the
conflict against their Master's enemies — this is a feeling shared
by many in early youth. It is one of youth's most beautiful
treasures. We would have it ten times more common and
more thrilling than it is. But at the same time we cannot be
blind to the fact that it often mixes itself very cunningly with
vanity and with ignorance, and makes a young soldier think
that he is -fighting for God when in truth he is fighting a little
for God, and much for his own delight in conscious spiritual
energy and dislike of some particular evil. So that once more
I would offer you this caution : Try to hate evil because of
its hatefulness to God, not because it may revolt your own
taste or sense of justice. Hate it, as the psalm says, "with
perfect hatred,"1 and ask God to give you the capacity for
this large-hearted, this divine abhorrence.
And now, starting from this basis, I will try to point out
to you two of the main difficulties which are likely to damp
your courage and make you only half-hearted in your contest
with evil. There are of course many such, but I shall select
only two ; and I shall select these because I know how
grievously they often depress the energies of the young.
1. We have many of us read of that legendary "knight
of God," in whose lips the poet has put the noble words :
"My strength is as the strength of ten,
Because my heart is pure. "
Alas ! the sad reason why our strength is often little better
than a coward's is because our heart is not pure. Con
science holds up the mirror of the past before the enthusiasm
of the moment, and what do we see in it? Some miserable
chapter of our lives, in which is written the record of- the
very evils done by ourselves which we now fancy that we
1 Ps. cxxxix. 22.

270 FIGHTING FOR GOD.
are in earnest to uproot. It is as though a forlorn hope
flushed with ardour, and proud of their heroism, had just
surmounted the edge of some deadly parapet, when sud
denly there were unfolded before their eyes not some fearful
battery or some yawning trench hitherto unsuspected, but
a captured flag of their own country, on which were en>
blazoned in pitiless scorn all their former acts and thoughts of
cowardice and disloyalty. They could fece the battery : they
could spring over the trench and plant their scaling-ladders
anew : but how confront the murderous volleying taunt :
This is what I am pretending to do, and this is what I
know that I have done ?
Let us pursue the figure one step further, for it suggests
the only comfort. If at that staggering moment of shame
and shrinking the commander could be present, we know
what his language would be. He would see the present,
not the past ; the present sincerity, the present heroism, and
not the past weakness, even though it amounted to treachery.
He would say, " You are still worthy of me : you are still
my trusted soldiers : and it is by your valour that I mean
this stronghold to be won."
And so, my brethren, in the time of your own misgivings,
when the miserable numbing thought creeps over you, " I
was once almost as bad myself : I know it, and others know
it," I would have you add the yet further thought : " Yes,
and God knows it also. God knows it, and how does
He make use of His knowledge? Is it to crush me with
scorn? Or does He not prove to me, by the ardour with
which He now inspires me for the conflict, that He has
tenderly forgiven the past, and made me, as it were, an
ensign in His service, to carry the colours where danger is
thickest?" This, then, is one of the obstacles which you must be
prepared for in your contest with evil, the paralysing recol
lection of your own past : and the true remedy against it is
to think not of the subsequent progress you have made in
strength, but of the merciful forgiveness and inexhaustible
confidence of God. That remedy will never fail you.

FIGHTING FOR GOD. 271
2. The second obstacle to which I alluded is this. You will
fancy that you stand almost alone in your desire for a better
state of things, and that the mass of those around you are
either indifferent or hostile. Thus the enterprise will seem
hopeless. Now, in the first place, I would remind you that, whether
the enterprise succeeds or not, is not the matter which
concerns you. God does not bid you succeed, He only
bids you try. Secondly, all history tells us — and it does
not require a very long personal experience to confirm
the voice of history — that all the best things that have ever
been done in the way of moral reforms have been done by
minorities. Strength made perfect in weakness, the faith of
a few triumphing over the stagnation or the opposition of
numbers — this is the device written in letters of gold, often
times in letters of blood, on the front of all great causes.
" God loves," it has been said, "to build upon nothing."1
But once more — and it is here that I desire specially to
carry your belief with me — it is again and again simply an
error, an utter delusion, to suppose that in fighting for what
is right we are fighting alone or with very few allies. I am
not here thinking of those legions of heavenly squadrons
which were revealed at Dothan to the eyes of the prophet's
servant,2 and which we reverently remember as the day of
St. Michael and. All Angels returns once more. I am
speaking here simply of the allies to be . found among your
own companions ; of the real, if not enthusiastic, preference
for right which exists among those who make up our public
opinion. I have known this school for more than twenty
years, and have seen more than one good cause taken
up when the sky seemed gloomy, and by God's help
triumphantly vindicated. And one of the convictions
strongly impressed upon my mind is this ; that as soon
as you strike a first blow for good, you are astonished to
see how many are on your side. They want encourage
ment, and they want a leader; but their sympathies, too
long suppressed, are eagerly with the right.
1 Montalembert, Life of Benedict, 2 See 2 Kings vi. 16, 17.

272 FIGHTING FOR GOD.
- Never believe that many boys love falsehood, or love __
cheating ways, or love impurity. Boys love honour and
daring and saintliness. Let any one announce himself as
the champion of evil, he would scarcely find a single sup
porter : but it is the false glare of spurious manliness which
surrounds some forms of vice, ,and it is the blinding mist of
supposed tradition, and the enfeebling malaria of conven
tional acquiescence — these are the glasses which magnify the
importance of our evil-doers, and make them seem powerful
when they are ready to fall. No, the great majority are in
their hearts on the side of what is right. If we could be so
impious and so senseless as to make a rule providing that
from henceforth private prayer should be systematically inter
rupted, foul conversation tolerated, and false or underhand
practices rewarded and honoured, and if we had the power
to give effect to so mad a design, do you suppose that such
impiety would be popular here ? Do you suppose that any
but a mere handful, if even that, would not feel themselves
outraged ? No, there are two simple facts, each true, though
they seem to stand in conflict: the vast majority here in
their hearts love what is good, and honour any leader who
makes good more honoured ; and at the same time, We have
again and again to warn you that your greatest danger lies
in being intimidated by a corrupt public opinion.
But now having pointed out these two obstacles, mis
givings which arise from the consciousness of a not inno*
cent past, and misgivings which arise from a belief that
the majority are against you, let me very briefly offer
two or three hints which may help to make your way
clearer. In the first place, have a high ideal of what a great school
should be. Scorn to look upon it as a place where great
vices must reign unchecked, and only little virtues lead an
inglorious and a precarious existence. Think of it in con
nexion with what you can conceive of as greatest and
purest— the heroism of man, and the holiness of God. Be
not afraid to apply to it some of the most august images of
Scripture : " An holy temple. in the Lord ; " " the habitation

FIGHTING FOR GOD. 273
of God through the Spirit ; " 1 a church " built as a city that
is at unity in itself; " 2 a home where " all the children shall
be taught of the Lord," 3 and " one generation shall praise
His works unto another ; "4 a city, once more, which like the
heavenly Jerusalem is lightened with the spiritual " glory of
God," and wherein " there shall in no wise enter anything
that defileth, or worketh abomination, or maketh a lie." 5
Fill your minds with ennobling images such as these, and
then in the rub of common life, and in the dust' of vulgar
temptation, God will bring them to your remembrance, and
prevent you from ever losing your faith in a society of which
such glorious things may not unfitly be spoken. " Lift up
your hearts." Strive to keep before your minds this high
ideal of what a Public School should be ; and though you
will never attain to it, you will not wholly fail.
Secondly, take counsel with one another. Act together.
Believe that others will be as glad to receive from you a
heartfelt sympathy in lofty interests as you would be glad to
receive it from them, if you thought that such an inter
change were possible. In union is strength. In Christian
communion is also joy and peace.
Lastly, look up, not once or seldom, but day by day, to
Him who is the Divine Captain of all noble warfare. St.
John had his conflict with evil to wage, and this was how
the divine Combatant revealed Himself to him : " I saw
heaven opened, and behold a white horse ; and He that sat
upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteous
ness He doth judge and make war. His eyes were as a
flame of fire, and on His head were many crowns ; and He
had a name written, that no man knew but Himself. And
the armies which were in heaven followed Him upon white
horses clothed in fine linen, white and clean. And He hath
on His vesture and on His thigh a name written, King of
kings and Lord of lords."
O my brethren, if we would oftener lift up our eyes to this
divine Leader, associate ourselves with His warfare, and give
1 Ephes. ii. 21, 22. 2 Ps. cxxii. 3. 3 Isa. liv. 13.
* Ps. cxlv. 4. 5 Rev. xxi. 23, 27.

274 FIGHTING FOR GOD.
the strength and the ardour of our youth to none but His
victories, evil would die away from before us ; and instead of
the pollutions of earth, which blind our eyes and clog our
ears, we should catch glimpses and hear at times the murmur
of the " pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, pro
ceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb." :
1 Rev. xxii. I.
September 27, 1868.

SERMON XXXVII.
PAGANISM.
EZEKIEL XX. 32.
"And that which cometh into your mind shall not be at all, that ye say,
We will be as the heathen, as the families of the countries, to serve
wood and stone."
Let us distinguish here between the particular precept
and the permanent truth. In order to understand the par
ticular precept, you must have some imagination. You
must try to follow what we may call the vanguard of the
Captivity ; I mean the first division of the Jewish exiles
who in the time of King Jehoiachin, eleven years before the
final ruin of the city under Zedekiah, were carried away into
Babylon. There by the banks of the river Chebar some
families of the exiles were settled, and among them the
priest and prophet Ezekiel. It became his function to
speak to them words of warning and of hope as he saw
occasion. One symptom that he noticed among them was
the sad, one which we should perhaps have expected. The
exiles began to forget the God and the faith of their fathers,
and to amalgamate with the heathen among whom they dwelt:
We can imagine many reasons for such an apostasy. First
of all there is the fact, that with all men, except the very
strongest, their religion is far more local, far more dependent
upon home and personal associations, than they are apt to
imagine. An Englishman who passes much of his time

*16 PAGANISM.

abroad, is very apt to lose reverence for the sanctities of his
own country — the Sunday for example — and to catch the '
tone of those among whom he lives. But apart from this,
the Jewish exiles were passing through the ordeal of an
apparent desertion by God. God seemed to have given
them up. Theirs was a lost, a ruined cause. The cause of ,
their conquerors, their heathen conquerors, was apparently
the cause favoured by Heaven. The Babylonians were
heathen, and prosperous. They were the "great nation"
of the earth ; the terror of all other nations ; seemingly the
' favourites of the gods. Might it not be well to propitiate
these mighty gods? Would it not, at least, be prudent?
It was no time surely to parade their own unsuccessful and
discredited faith in the front of that triumphant paganism ,
which had swept like a whirlwind over the East.
It was, if I mistake not, to minds tossed by such mis- '
givings that Ezekiel ministers in the words of the text.
Their essence seems to be " No compromise with heathenism,
successful or unsuccessful." "That which cometh into
your mind shall not be at all, that ye say, We will be as the
heathen, as the families of the countries, to serve wopd and
stone." No paganism for the people of God. Crush the
very thought when it cometh into your mind. Let not dis^
grace and suffering shake your faith. Cling to God more
closely when He frowns upon you than in the days when He
seemed to smile.
Such appears to be the particular precept conveyed by
the remarkable words of the prophet. But, as I began by
saying, we must distinguish between this particular precept
and the permanent lesson which lives in it. It shall now
be my endeavour to help you to understand this last,. and I.
think you will soon see that it is peculiarly appropriate to a
body like our own.
The lesson seems to be this : "We Christians must have
no hankerings after what is not Christian. We must keep
ho pagan corner in our hearts. We must accept our
Christian responsibilities once for all without any lingering,
half envious repining after what seems a lighter yoke."

PAGANISM. 277

This truth can only be understood when we pursue it into
some details of action ; but first let us ask ourselves whether
its warning is in fact needed. Have we, or are we likely to
have, any hankering after paganism? The answer to this
question must depend upon another : What does paganism
mean ? What is its essence ? I apprehend it is this : a
desire to be left to ourselves in this world of varied sensa--
tions, unthwarted by troublesome restraints imposed by
invisible powers ; or if we must serve some gods, to serve
such as will minister to our ease and comfort, or may punish
us vindictively if we offend them. This seems to be pretty
much the essence of paganism. It knows nothing of
conscience or duty, still less of any feeling of love for God
and a desire to please as distinct from propitiating Him.
It ignores Him as far as it may safely do so. If it could once
persuade itself that He might be neglected with impunity,'
it would no longer even affect to worship Him. Meanwhile,
it identifies Him as far as possible with its own inclinations
and prepossessions, and tries to flatter itself that self-worship
and God-worship are,, if rightly understood, identical.
And this being so, I would ask again, Have we no pagan
' element within us ? If I were speaking to an older congre
gation, I might endeavour to trace in literature, and in the
common intercourse of life, signs of a distaste for what is
vitally Christian. Evidently there are many now living, as
there have been many in every age, who in their heart of
hearts do not like Christianity. They think of it as some
thing which thwarts, and stunts, and grudges, and frowns,
and casts a gloom over the grace and the freedom and
the joyousness of life. It seems to them fitted for only
one type of mind — that in which emotion and love of mys
tery and dread of wrong-doing predominate — and not for
the freer, more genial type, which admires self-develop
ment rather than self-restraint ; cannot bring itself to speak
of sins, much less to grieve over them ; expects but little
from human nature in the way of moral heroism, and is
consequently not much disturbed if even that little is but
rarely attained.

278 PAGANISM.

Now the words of our text would say to such persons, if,
I interpret their meaning rightly, It is too late to slip back
into paganism. You cannot cease to know what you have
once known, or revive the worship of deities who have
been once for all dethroned. "That which cometh into
your mind shall not be at all, that ye say, We will be as the
heathen." Jesus Christ has given to mankind an ideal of
human life which the conscience of mankind has accepted.
You cannot ignore this fact. You cannot be as though it
had never been. You may point to the misconceptions of
it which have marred the beauty of the Church, and made
Christians too often the caricature rather than the image of
their Master. You may accuse them, and justly, of excluding
from their Master's care, as hostile to Him, elements which
you feel to be essential to man's perfection. But if your
dissatisfaction with Christians means dissatisfaction with
Christ ; and if the key to the riddles of human life, its
sorrows, its self-reproach, its aspirations, its craving for
divine sympathy, its instinctive reverence for what is poor
and lowly — if, I say, the key to this riddle is after all these
ages to be sought from Parnassus instead of from Calvary,
you must hold this belief at your peril. To a1 Christian
such a position seems self-condemned. It is a step back in
the history of the world, a step from light into darkness.
But, my brethren, you will see more clearly what I mean,
if you will apply this thought to your own life here. Can
you say that you know nothing of what I have described as
a hankering after paganism ? Again and again, by different
roads it may be, but with the same end, we return and must
return to the great root-temptation of school life, the temp
tation to do as others do. We all know the proverb which
makes a virtue of this temptation, and bids us when we
travel among strangers do as strangers do. At school we
are terribly in earnest in obeying this proverb, as if, indeed,
it were a voice from heaven. Parents cannot understand
this. They stand aghast when a son has committed some
serious fault; and say with bitterness, though with truth, that
it was not learnt at home. They fail to acknowledge the

PAGANISM, 279

enormous force of companionship ; the fact that a boy will
do, when encouraged by a bad example or a corrupt tradition,
what he would shrink from and repudiate at home. This is
the permanent, the ineradicable, weakness of school life,
just as moral bracing and the development of generous
public spirit are its inalienable good. Both exist, and exist
. mightily. We cannot have the one, and altogether avoid
the other.
But now see howthis temptation of which I speak is fostered
by the feeling embodied in the text. You are all in one
sense strangers here. Your hearts, with their deepest trea
sures^ — with their household gods, if I may venture on the
phrase — are at home. You find here some things worshipped
which you know to be undeserving of it. But they are
popular and very powerful, and are surrounded by all the
embattled prestige of a supposed tradition. They seem to
bring happiness to those who worship them, not perhaps the
highest happiness, nothing assuredly of that holiest " peace
which passeth all understanding," but still a happiness which
means high spirits, a good name, an ease and freedom of
bearing unembarrassed by troublesome scruples. Will you
cast in your lot with these? How natural it is to do so.
Is there not something in your heart which whispers — which
will whisper — " The strain I am putting on myself is really
intolerable. Can this be what God requires, what He
requires here, at school, what He requires now, in the
days of my youth ? Look at others : they are not bad, they
are not profane ; there is nothing in them to shock or
disgust ; yet they live apparently all untroubled by these
scruples of conscience that thwart and torment me. They
are not Christians, but they are not wicked. They are not
self-denying, but they are happy. The things they care
for and indeed worship are not certainly the highest, not
things one could mention in prayer; but they seem to content
them, and in short to answer. Compare this with the strain
of being always on my guard, of preparing for Confirma
tion, of self-examination before the Communion, of refusing
to avail myself of dishonest helps which others use without

280 PAGANISM.

scruple, of curbing my temper when insulted, or giving up
to another what I most covet for myself, O may we not
sometimes shake off this rigorous yoke, and be like others,
nay, be our true selves ? May we not be in the main
Christians, jealous of the name, proud of our heritage, hopeful
of our future, but at the same time just a little pagan ?"
Here it is that the message, shall we say the stern message, ,
of the prophet reaches us. He tells us plainly that such /
arguments are mere sophistry, and the hope which they i
express utterly delusive. "That which cometh into your
mind shall not be at all, that ye say,. We will be as the j
heathen." No, this is not the road to peace. Come what!
will, we are children of God ; and in the family x>f God, j
not in the "families of the countries," must we look for our1
models. He who has once known what it is to be Christ's
servant cannot ever be only as one of those who have never
known Him. He may sink below them ; he may do their
evil deeds without their excuses; he may sin as they do; but
it will be not in light-heartedness, but in presumption. A
conscience once awake is a conscience awake and impera
tive for ever, unless we will perforce drug it into that sleep
of death from which none may assume an awakening.
You have heard, both this morning and this evening, that it
is possible to live even in heathen lands, even among heathen
conquerors, without seeking to be as they. Shadrach,
Meshach, and Abednego had no longing after heathenism.
Doubtless, had they been so minded, they might have found,
many plausible reasons for falling down before the golden
image. They , might have discovered many extenuating ,
names — compliance, conformity, obedience to constituted
authority. They might have urged that they were not free
agents, not responsible for the royal decree. It was not
aimed specially at them. Obedience to it, quietly and
unostentatiously rendered, would not necessarily imply an
abandonment of their own God. Many Jews, Whose faith
in God no one called in question, had conformed and were
conforming. But Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego had
no desire to reap the advantages of heathenism. They had

PAGANISM. 281

once for all taken its true measure, and would have none
of it. Others might tamper with their consciences if they
would. For them compliance meant apostasy ; and though ,
all was lost at Jerusalem, and trust in God seemed a ruined
cause, they would not apostatize, they would cling to Him
all the closer. You know what they did. A nobler deed
was seldom done.
Follow them so far as you may. Ask God to save you
from the terrible snare of wishing to keep back any part of
your heart from Him. Ask to be rid once and for ever of
all desire after what He hates. Make up your mind once
for all that you will not in anything be as the heathen. You
will not enjoy our services in this place, and then to-morrow
or the day after find a secret pleasure in some corrupting
book. You will not say your prayers with regularity, but
reserve to yourself the right of talking loosely with others.
You will not be truthful at home and with your companions,
but think it fair to deceive a master. You will not be good
with good companions, and profane with a select few of
whose ridicule you stand in terror. In short, you will have
no half-service, no compromises. You have broken with
heathenism, and no longer envy those who yet feel its
charm. My brethren, those who are thus whole of heart will have
many sad and lonely hours : but of none of God's beloved
children may we use more confidently those words of ten-
1 derness : " He dwelleth in the secret place of the most
High ; he shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty."1

1 Ps. xci. 1.
October 18, 1868.

SERMON XXXVIII.
THE EXPECTANTS.
Heb. xi. 14.
" They that say such things declare plainly that they seek a country. "
Why is it that soldiers are so proud of their colours ? Be
cause those colours are for them a symbol of their own
honour, and the honour of their regiment. Because they
speak of glorious triumphs in the past under gallant leaders,
and give assurance to each man that if he be called to face
' equal perils, he will confront them with no unequal glory.
Because on their folds are emblazoned the names of famous
victories which have become household words in the history
of the nation, summoning up before the mind names of men
once the pride of their countrymen, and recalling silently
the oft-forgotten truth that the qualities which "the human
heart loves and honours most are daring and obedience
and self-surrender. To serve under colours which have this
sacramental force, to fight around them when the battle is
thickest, to die for them if their safety is threatened, is the
pride and the prayer of every true soldier.
There is a Christian army in which we have all been
enrolled. To-day we commemorate its victories and con
quests. We recall, so far as our knowledge extends, its illus
trious champions through many centuries. We look away
from our own failures and petty aims, and look for refresh
ment to their successes and their daring enterprises. We

THE EXPECTANTS. 283
take note of any great qualities which seem to have been
common to them all, and ask if these are wanting now ;
or whether in unknown or half-known conflicts yet to be
sustained there will still be found a Christian army simi
larly animated, "ready to go anywhere and do anything" at
the word of its Commander, and add fresh lustre to future
anniversaries of All Saints' Day.
The writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews wrote to cheer
the hearts of his Jewish countrymen on the eve of the
fearful revolution which swept Jerusalem from the face of
the earth. Already the signs of ruin were manifest, and the
instruments of ruin were at hand. He reminded them at
this eventful time of what had been the true glory of their
past history ; what had been the characteristic of its
acknowledged champions. They had been men of faith.
By faith they had been able in the darkest times to read
the will of God, and to do what pleased Him. They had
never been the slaves of the present, blinded by its mists,
hemmed in by its narrow limits. They had never imagined
that the whole purpose of God was bounded by the limits
of their short lifetime. They kept their eye on the future
as the consecrated sanctuary of the Divine purpose. They
believed in God's promises, but they did not suppose that
they were themselves designed to see their fulfilment. They
lived by faith, and they " died in faith." They never received
the promises, but they were none the less persuaded of their
reality. Nay, they held out their arms, as it were, to
embrace them, and confessed that earthly life was but a
passage and an exile, and " that they were strangers and
pilgrims on the earth." "They that say such things,"
the Apostle continues, " declare plainly that they seek a
country." Now I believe that the more you study the history of the
Christian Church and the great deeds which its champions
have achieved, the more you will find that this great cha
racteristic of the old Hebrew worthies has been the com
mon bond which united them. They have been men of
faith ; children of the unseen ; men who by their acts and

284 THE EXPECTANTS.

words, nay, even by their looks, declared, plainly that they
sought a country.
Let me remind you by name of a few of those men to
whom the Christianity of England owes most. Twelve
centuries ago our country was pagan. One-third of the
whole life of Christianity has been unknown to her. At
that time the greatest of the Popes, Gregory the Great,
saw a few young English slaves at Rome. He was a monk,
but he had a father's heart. He knew but little of Britain,
but something within his heart told him that it was to be
saved from the wrath of God, and that he was to be the
deliverer. The thought became a settled resolve. He
determined to go in person, and had actually left Rome,
when the people heard of his departure, and compelled
him to return. Shortly afterwards they forced him to be
Pope. A few years after he felt that the time had come.
He made choice of Augustin and forty of his brother monks
to be the bearers to England of the message of the Gospel.
On their way the hearts of the missionaries failed them. In
the words of the Epistle to the Hebrews, " they were
mindful of the country from whence they came out, and
they sought opportunity to return." They implored Augustin
to lead them back to Rome. He applied to the Pope for'
fresh instructions, and they came as follow : " Better not to
begin that good work at all than to give it up after having
commenced it. Forward in God's name. The more you
have to suffer, the brighter will your glory be in eternity.
May the grace of the Almighty protect you, and grant to
me to behold the fruit of your labours in the eternal
country."1 He that said such things declared plainly that
he sought a country.
The encouraging word of the leader had its effect upon
his followers. The missionaries traversed France on foot
amid constant perils. In a few months Augustin had landed
in Kent, and sent to the heathen king the Christian message
that they brought him the best of news, the true glad
tidings, the promise of heavenly joys, and of an eternal
1 See Montalembert's " Monks of the West," Book x. chap. i.

THE EXPECTANTS. 285
reign in the fellowship of the living and true God. Such was
the message of the first Archbishop of Canterbury twelve
hundred years ago. There he and his followers lived, we
are told, " assiduous in prayer, in vigils, in fasts ; they
, preached the Word of life to all whom they could reach ;
and despising this world's goods, accepting from their con
verts nothing but what was strictly necessary, lived in all
harmony with their doctrine, and ever' ready to suffer or to
die for the truth they preached." And then the modern
historian continues : " The Church of Canterbury for a thou
sand years possessed unparalleled splendours : no Church
in the World, after the Church of Rome, has been governed
by greater men, or has waged more glorious conflicts. But
nothing in her brilliant annals could eclipse the sweet and
pure light of that humble beginning, when a handful of
strangers, Italian monks, applied themselves in prayer and
fasting and toil to the work of winning over the ancestors
of a great people to God, to virtue, and to truth."
More than seven centuries passed on, and we come face
to face with two illustrious Christian names never to be men
tioned by Englishmen without honour — the names of John
Wycliffe and of William of Wykeham : the one, the first
translator of the Bible ; the other, one of the greatest founders
of Christian public schools. In their own day they seemed
to have but little in common. They stood in direct contrast.
The one was a princely Prelate, the most loyal and the most
magnificent servant of the Church. The other was a turbu
lent Reformer, dreaded and detested by ardent Churchmen,
" because he thundered against the Church's corruptions,'
and gathered round him the pious disaffection of the poor.
It is more than probable that these two men were bitterly
hostile during life, each imputing to the1 other a heart
unmeet for the saints of God. But it is our privilege at this
distance of time to see that they were true brothers in the
faith of Christ, each a soldier in that noble army the badge
of which is the heavenward aim. The one, as he founded
his magnificent Colleges for boyhood and for youth, all
dedicated with strictest consecration to the service of

286 ¦;•<- "•'• - THE EXPECTANTS.
Christ and of posterity, showed that his treasure lay not
here. He " Dreamed not of a perishable home,
Who thus could build."
The other, as he laboriously translated the Scriptures,
trusting that through this pure and strong stream all the
pollutions which he mourned over would in length of time
be swept away, was one of those who "received not the
promise ;" that -was not to come till some two centuries later;
but he was persuaded of it, and embraced it, and amid all
the persecutions of his stormy life confessed that he was a
stranger and pilgrim on the earth.
And when the heroic days of English Christianity once
more returned, and men were called to show by death
as well as by labour what they held to be true religion,
again we find that this pilgrim feeling, this strong grasp
of the invisible, becomes the distinguishing mark of the
English saints. God forbid that the day should ever dawn
in England when the heroism of the great Reformers who
perished at the stake ceases to move the heart of the nation,
or requires to be named with smooth phrases of apology.
They were emphatically men who declared plainly that they
sought a country. They sought it as the one goal of all
their longings after truth ; as the place where Christ Him
self, whom they would not deny, should reign over them in
person, King of kings, and Lord of lords. Again and again
they were offered life and pardon if they would recant what
they knew to be true. If they had but consented to put
off their pilgrim's garb, " if they had been but mindful of the
country from whence they came out, they might have had
opportunity to return. But they desired a better country,
even a heavenly. Wherefore God was not ashamed to be
called their God, for He had prepared for them a city.".
Rich and poor alike, powerful bishops and weak women, all
were one in this, that they held fast by the unseen God,
and were determined to seek His presence, even through
the smoke and the flames of martyrdom. ,'

THE EXPECTANTS. 287
And yet, again, two centuries later, when the spirit of the
Reformation revived once more in the persons of Wesley
and his friends, it is still this unearthly, this heavenward
attitude which strikes us as most characteristic of him and
his followers. They were mostly poor men. It may be
urged that it required but little sacrifice to disengage them
selves from the allurements of the present : but experience
does not lead us to think that it is much easier for the
poor than for the rich to live at leisure from self, with
hearts at home in heaven. With these poor men the barrier
'between heaven and earth seemed almost broken down.
That noble hymn of Charles Wesley which we have sung
this evening was a fit expression of their lives and their faith.
Which of us can repeat it without some feeling of shame ?
It is a pilgrim song, natural and beautiful on the lips of those
who " declare plainly that they seek a country ;" unnatural
and unreal in the mouths of those wKo are satisfied with
earth, and care not to lift up their hearts.
' ' One army of the living God,
To His command we bow :
Part of the host have crossed the flood,
And part are crossing now.
" His militant embodied host,
With wishful looks we stand,
And long to see that happy coast,
And reach that heavenly land.
" Even now by faith we join our hands
With those that went before,
And greet the blood-besprinkled bands
On the eternal shore."
It is the Christian rendering of the gloomy but touching
picture drawn by the great Roman poet, where he represents
the shadowy dead crowded thick as leaves by the mournful
river, and stretching out their arms in sad entreaty, with
yearning for the farther bank.1 Compare the stately Latin
verse with the moving Christian hymn. The contrast bids
1 JEn. vi. 314: "Tendebantque manns ripae ulterioris amore."

288 THE EXPECTANTS.
us own with thankfulness that "life and immortality" have
been indeed "brought to light through the Gospel."1
Thus, then, we have seen that one of the marks of the
saints of God is their heavenward look. They are in the
world, but not of the world ; strangers, not citizens. Their
apts, their failures, their sacrifices, their sufferings, are here;
but their hearts and their treasure ,are above. '
But now, can it be that in urging this I have in reality
been condemning them? In presuming to admire their
upward hopes, have we in truth been branding them with
selfishness ? There are some who seem to think so. They
urge that the dimmer the hope, the nobler the sacrifice; the
more bounded the vision, the grander the energy of those
who will labour while it is called to-day.
Strange, indeed, is the revolution of thought when the
dearest of blessings is stigmatized as the most perilous of
tempters; and when' the chief glory of faith/ the sure and
certain hope of immortality, is not merely discredited as a
dream, but branded as a weakness from which true manhood
would be proud to be exempt. Compare, it is said, the
sacrifices of the Christian with the sacrifices of him who
has the Christian's morality, and the Christian's self-denial,
without being cheered or encumbered by the Christian's
hope. The one devotes himself to the service of humanity,
asking for nothing again. The other fixes his eye on the
glories of heaven, ; and calculates the overplus of future
happiness which will more than compensate for present
sufferings. Which is the nobler ?
Now I will not ¦ stop to consider how far Christian
apologists have, under the disguise of a spurious philosophy,
based upon an assumed self-interest, given an excuse for
this caricature of the Christian's philanthropy. The question
is not whether Christians deserve the taunt, but whether
Christianity deserves it; and to this question All Saints'
Day is surely a reply. To-day we turn away from com
monplace Christians — must I not add, from ourselves?
— and fix our eyes on the true champions of our faith ;
1 2 Tim. "i. io.

THE EXPECTANTS. 289
on those who have made full proof of their ministry, and
have shown the world, by visible proof, what it may be to be
a follower of Christ. Are these selfish ? Is All Saints' Day
the commemoration of a world-wide self-seeking ? Is it, or
is it not, the fact that their labours have been but a prudent
investment ; that an enlightened regard to their own interest
hereafter has nerved their arms and melted their hearts in
works of daring and mercy; and that heaven itself has
been but the weightiest of prizes, and the most irresistible of
bribes ? Would they have been more disinterested, would
they have been intrinsically nobler, if they had seen no heaven
beyond, and had looked to the future of a relieved humanity,
the relief of which they would never themselves witness, as
the brightest vision granted to the creatures of a day ?
Does not human nature revolt from such a question ?
Was Stephen acting from self-interest when he "looked up
stedfastly into heaven, and saw the glory of God, and Jesus
standing on the right hand of God?"1 Did Paul sully the
purity of his sacrifices when, in the midst of his unparalleled
labours, and fettered by a chain to the arm of the Roman
soldier, he remembered — but remembered ungrudgingly —
that to "depart and to be with Christ" was "far better;"2
or even when he dared to anticipate his finished course,
and the time of his departure, and the crown already pre
pared iii the hand of the righteous Judge?3
Or turn to any face that we have ourselves seen and
known and loved. That upward expression, that unsatisfied
air of aspiration, that expectant look as of the servant waiting
for his Lord — is it, as great painters have taught us to imagine,
the " dawn of the eternal day " already irradiating the hori
zon; or is it rather the last lingering stain of a refined
selfishness, all the more perilous because it is unconscious ?
Illustrious masters of the spiritual life, men who have
themselves seen and lived " the life hid with Christ in God,"
have loved to dwell on what they call the " moral certainty
of the true Christian's resurrection."4 They have loved to
1 Acts vii. 55. 2 Phil. i. 23. 3 2 Tim. iv. 6-8.
4 See Arnold's Sermons, vol. iii. Sermon xiii.
U

290 THE EXPECTANTS.
paint — and who shall deny the accuracy of the oft-repeated
portrait? — the gradual growth of the soul in holiness and
purity. One by one weaknesses are trodden down ; one
by one old stains are purged away. Brighter and brighter
becomes the beauty, and more and more settled the peace,
more and more devoted the sacrifices of a soul bent on
holding fast by God. And all this progress is attended by
a vast anticipation. God seems to be near. The society of
Christ and His redeemed seems hardly to be parted by the
veil of time. A longing pilgrim feeling gathers over the
soul, "declaring plainly that it seeks a country." And this
feeling, how are we to regard it ? With admiration, or with
pity ? Are we to admire a perfection which we should our
selves be anxious to attain ; or to pity a weakness which
we all wish to be spared? "Shall not heaven and earth
pass sooner" — such is the passionate outburst of one of
Christ's most faithful servants — " shall not heaven and earth
pass sooner, than that one so sleeping in Jesus should not
also be raised up by the Spirit of Jesus, and presented by
Him before the throne of His Father, to live for ever in
the fulness of His blessing?"1 Is this question the dictate
of sound reason, or of a wild enthusiasm ?
No, my brethren, let us never be ashamed of the heaven
ward heart, as though it detracted from a perfect disinterested
ness. Man is born for immortality. That is part of his
being, the noblest part. Take from him some part of his
physical being — say his hands or his eyes — then if he per
forms great labours notwithstanding, we marvel, no doubt,
at his energy, but we do not think of him as the perfect
type of man. Take from him some intellectual attribute —
say all delight, all satisfaction in the exercise of his brain —
then if he still devotes himself unremittingly to study or to
thought, we admire his resolute force of will, but we do not
think him greater than the man with whom every mental
effort is attended by the enthusiasm of quickened hope and
assured success.
And so with the spiritual part of man's being. Take from
1 Arnold's Sermons, as above.

THE EXPECTANTS. 291
him the hope of immortality — I do not deny that he may
live a heroic life, full of sacrifices, and rich in sympathies.
I may believe that I know the source from which the
strength which supports him flows; and I may see fresh
cause to adore that goodness of God which won the special
reverence of Christ, the goodness which descends impar
tially on those who acknowledge Him, and those who
acknowledge Him not, and which divides to every man,
even the unbeliever, severally as He will. But I do not
therefore magnify a loss as a gain, and say that man is
greatest, because most unhappy, when his noblest attribute,
the hope of immortality, is wanting. Such is, in truth, a
strange form of a perverted asceticism, which thinks by
crushing one part of human nature to develop the remainder
in extraordinary exuberance.
No, let us not be deluded by vain words, even when they
take the form of an over-sensitive conscientiousness. It is
not ignoble to be happy. It is not selfish to crave the
happiness for which we were created and designed. It is
not selfish to long to know and to see, without fear of
distance or apostasy, the Father whom we have sought on
earth, the Redeemer whose words have been our life, and
whose example our dream, the Holy Spirit whose presence
we have invoked in our own hearts, and in the heart of
Christendom. No, nor is it selfish, as on this day, to look
forward to the society of Christ's chosen servants ; all those
saints whom this day commemorates, no longer separated
by ignorance or marred by partial error ; and to long amid
that general assembly of those whose names are written in
heaven to be allowed to take the lowest room.
Yet this, and none other — this is the selfishness of those
who "declare plainly that they seek a country " — " of whom
the world is not worthy."
November 1, 1868.

r 2

SERMON XXXIX.
THE THREE COMINGS OF CHRIST.
2 Peter iii. 4.
" Where is the promise of His coming? "
The Scripture speaks of three comings of our Lord Jesus
Christ. Two of them are those which are mentioned in
the noble collect for Advent Sunday ; the historical coining
" in great humility " more than eighteen centuries ago, and
the future coming " in glorious majesty " at a day and an
hour when we think not.
There is yet a third coming, which at this season we ought
not to forget — the present coming of Christ into the hearts of
His true servants, and through them into the world. This
we should call neither a historical coming nor a future
coming, but a spiritual coming. Each of these three com
ings is attested by express words of Christ Himself, to say
nothing of the declarations of His Apostles and Evange
lists. Of the first He says : " To this end was I born, and
for this cause came I into the world, that I should bear
witness unto the truth." 1 Of the second He says : " Here
after shall ye see the Son of Man sitting on the right hand
of power, and coming in the clouds of heaven." 2 Of the
third He says : " I will not leave you comfortless : I will
come to you ; "3 and again, in words which make their
private appeal to each individual heart not yet quite over
grown with worldliness and sin : " Behold, I stand at the
1 John xviii. 37. 2 Matt. xxvi. 64. 3 John xiv. 18.

THE THREE COMINGS OF CHRIST. 293
door, and knock : if any man hear My voice, and open the
door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he
with Me."1
Let me endeavour this evening to say a few words upon
each of these comings. At the best we find it very hard to
fix any portion of our mind upon things unseen. Names
like Advent and Epiphany and Lent, and even of Christmas
and Easter, are but too apt to be names and dates and
nothing more, standing aloof from the swift but noisy
current of our ordinary life, and exercising' little or no
influence upon its speed, or its colour, or its direction. I
say, even at the best, this is so ; but this makes it only the
more necessary that we should try to make the most of
marked seasons, not indeed expecting to find novelty in
them, but hoping that with God's help they may remind us
of the value of familiar truths. In this hope I would re
mind you, first of all, of the simple historical fact that less
than 2,000 years ago Jesus Christ came into this world. If
any one asks, in the spirit of the scoffing words of the text,
" Where is the record of His coming, and what is it worth?"
we reply that even heathen contemporary writers make
mention of the fact, but that the full record of it is to be
found in those four books, unique at once in their aim and
their form, to which the Christian Church has affixed the
name of " Gospels," or messages of good news, in thankful
remembrance of the tidings which they convey. And,
briefly, what are these? They tell us, if we read them
rightly, that One who claimed to be sent from God, and to
be one with that Divine Father, came into our world in
the form of an infant Child; that He lived in obscurity
for thirty years ; that He then spent three years in a manner
which has excited the marvel of all subsequent times, and
has enkindled the love and riveted the faith of millions ;
that He submitted voluntarily to a cruel death followed by
a predicted resurrection, declaring that He laid down His
own life for the life of the world, and making good this
apparently proud declaration by the effusion of a spiritual
1 Rev. iii. 20.

294 THE THREE COMINGS OF CHRIST.
force which has been the parent of all social improvements,
and has set up a type of personal goodness which the
world never knew before.
For our present purpose it may be sufficient to give
this most meagre account of the first, the historical,
coming of Christ. The more thoughtful we are, the
more we shall feel how meagre it is ; how it omits all
God's long preparation for it, and "all the expectation
of the people of the Jews ; " and how it leaves undrawn
every single lineament of our Lord's sacred character. The
real richness and manifold significance of Christ's coming
upon earth will be felt by us in proportion partly to our
age, partly to the range of our intellect, chiefly to our ac
quaintance with the things of God. My present object is
simply to remind you of it ; to counsel you amid the busy
exciting rush of life to think once again over this most
extraordinary and most momentous of all historical facts —
the coming of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, in great hu
mility, and the complete revolution in the history of the
world which His Presence inaugurated, His Love and Holi
ness inspired, while His Divine Power rendered it possible
and permanent.
There is a second coming of Jesus Christ. It is often
spoken of by the name pf the " Second Advent." " We
believe that" He will "come to be our Judge." We do
not presume to attach local or even temporal conditions to
an event which when it comes must satisfy at once and
transcend all human conceptions ; but thus much we gather
with confidence from Scripture. This human life of ours
on earth is not intended by God who gave it to last
tor ever. Here it is stamped by three dark shadows ;
the shadow of sin, the shadow of sorrow, and the awful
shadow of death. These shadows are but shadows. They
are not real. They will not be for ever. There will be
a close of what is expressively, if unconsciously, called
this earthly "scene;" and then a great change will come.
Jesus Christ will be revealed to good and bad alike with a
"glorious majesty" that may be either feared or welcomed,

THE THREE COMINGS OF CHRIST. 295
but cannot be questioned or ignored : and then, in virtue of
His being the one true representative of human nature —
"because," as He tells us, "He is the Son of Man"1 — He
will pass judgment upon ail the hearts of the human race,
and leave to evil, which has for ages seemed so triumphant,
no more room for boast. Then, too, with the disappearance
of shadows will disappear the misrepresentations of good
ness. Goodness will , be seen as God has always seen it.
Each true-hearted servant of God, differing in capacity for
service, but similar in will, will be recognized and honoured ;
or, to use the words of the Lord Himself, " Then shall the
righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their
Father."2 One almost shrinks from speaking of these tremendous
realities. We seem to degrade them, to bring them down
from their proper home of awe, "the secret place of
thunders," by mingling with them our feeble words. It is
in the language of devout feeling, rather than the language
of reason and statement — in the language of solemn hymns
such as that which we have sung this evening, and which
bears, rightly or wrongly, the holy name of Luther — that
thoughts on the Second Advent of Christ most fitly find
their expression. To look forward to that " divine event "
as a certainty ; to be persuaded of it, and embrace it as the
answer to all human questionings respecting the modes of
God's justice and the measure of man's guilt, is an act of
faith not of reason.
Many will continue to say, "Where is the promise of His
coming ? " Our own hearts will at times re-echo the taunt,
" Where is the promise of His coming ? " " All things con
tinue as they were since the beginning of the creation."
Pleasure remains, and selfishness remains, and frivolity, and
ambition ; yes, and the more comely flowers of unregenerate
humanity — courage remains, and domestic tenderness, and
conscientious labour, and disinterested generosity. It is as
it was. The tares are mixed with the wheat, and the wheat
with the tares. Sometimes the one seem to have the victory,
1 John v. 27. 2 Matt. xiii. 43.

296 THE THREE COMINGS OF CHRIST.
and sometimes the other. In the men of the past we read
our own merits and defects. We too shall be a mirror to
those who come after. Why should not this be so for ever ?
Where are the signs of a coming change ? " Where is the
promise of His coming ? "
The promise lies in His own words. We can believe
them, or believe them not. Relying upon them we may
indeed believe that we discern the reasonableness of the
promise. We may notice the gradual spread of those
principles which He emphatically made His own ; a con
tinued tendency towards that moral and spiritual ideal which
He bequeathed and by His Holy Spirit has made perpetual.
We may feel assured — with our hearts at least, if not with
our intellects — that a progress towards perfection cannot
always be baffled, and that the unselfish cravings of the
holiest of men are quickened by a Father who has no mind
to deceive. But what is this but to acknowledge that we
do not know, only we believe? " Where is the promise of His
coming ? " In the hearts, we reply, of His holiest servants,
whom we cannot but believe to have been taught of God.
"Where is the promise of His coming?" In His own
words, we reply, which we believe Him to have really
uttered with a real human voice, as He sat long centuries
since, two days before His crucifixion, on the Mount of
Olives, and gazed with sadness on the doomed beauty of
the Temple : " They shall see the Son of Man coming in
the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. Heaven
and earth shall pass away, but My words shall not pass
away." 1
But we must speak, lastly, of His third coming, to which
I referred above, His coming now into our own hearts —
shall I say His actual coming, or His desire, His efforts,
to come ?
My brethren — here at least I am saying what the youngest
might understand — try to believe — it is the secret of all holy
effort — try to believe that Jesus Christ is striving to enter your
hearts. There are many doors by which He enters. There
1 Matt. xxiv. 30, 35.

THE THREE COMINGS OF CHRIST. 297
are many signs, unmarked probably by all but you, by which
He heralds His approach. He comes to some by the
perilous broadway of unbroken prosperity. He forces them
to think whether this is deserved, and whether their hearts
are humble and holy. He comes to others, surely far more,
by the narrow path of disappointment or humiliation. Their
self-confidence is broken. They find they are not what they
Would be. They despise themselves, and then the footfall
of Christ's coming is heard within them by the ear of a
quickened conscience : " A broken and a contrite heart, O
God, Thou wilt not despise." 1 He comes to others by sick
ness, which forces them to think of the comparative value of
things. Of sickness it may be said what the prophet said
of" the day of the Lord : " " the idols it doth utterly abolish." 2
It makes a man and a boy say to himself : " I have cared for
things which were of little value. I have neglected things
which were of supreme value." Surely we may say that in
that " still small voice " onward comes the Lord.
You can think, without difficulty, of other paths through
which Christ comes to the gate of your hearts ; the death of
friends, the timely word of counsel, the Christian letter, the
warning of the preacher, the quiet moments of prayer, the
reverent kneeling at the Holy Table. Nay the announce
ment which I have been able to make to you this evening,
that within a few weeks many of you will be invited to
prepare for Confirmation — what is it, let us say in reverence,
but a fresh advent of Christ to your hearts, a fresh call from
His voice of love, a fresh interposition from His merciful
providence summoning you to be true to Him, and to
put away all sinful and childish things in dependence on
a strength which He promises to supply?
Whenever you feel your hearts touched, whenever your
relish for prayer is quickened, whenever you are more certain
that you are heard, whenever the call of duty sounds loud
in your ears bidding you be more bold and decided than
heretofore in your Master's service, whenever you come to
hate, as hateful to Him, some form of evil which you had
1 Psalm li. 17. 2 Isaiah ii. 18.

THE THREE COMINGS OF CHRIST.

hitherto tolerated, this is for you an advent of Christ.
Then is He in truth knocking at the door of your hearts,
urging you to let Him enter and expel all tyrannous rivals,
and in His own most gracious words, "make His abode
with you." 1
And does any one sadly ask of this advent also :
" Where is the promise of His coming ? " How do I
know that He will come to me, even to me? Have I
not trifled with Him too long? Have I not peopled my
heart with images which it would take a stronger than I
to pull down, and which yet must be pulled down and
expelled with ignominy or ever that pure and " sacred Pre
sence can enter"? If there be any one who is honestly
depressed by such a misgiving, my reply in the name of
Christ is short indeed, but not wavering. It was for such
as you that the Gospel was given. It was for such as you
that Christ died. He "came not to call the righteous, but
sinners to repentance." He came not to do what was easy,
but what was hard ; not to make virtue a little more attrac
tive, and vice a little more decorous, but to throw the
treasures of His love at the feet of the sinner, and almost
compel him to receive them. This is the coming that He
values most. May I not say to many here : Will you, can
you, deny Him entrance?

1 John xiv. 23.
December 6, 1868.

SERMON XL.
PUBLIC SCHOOLS :
THE CONDITIONS OF THEIR PERMANENCE.
I Chron. xvii. 26, 27.
"And now, Lord, Thou art God, and hast promised this goodness unto
Thy servant: now therefore let it please Thee to bless the house of Thy
servant, that it may be before Thee for ever: for Thou blessest, 0 Lord,
atid it shall be blessed for ever"
So King David spoke in answer to the assurances of the
Prophet Nathan. He spoke from the overflowing of a full
heart. God had been very good to him. He had " taken
him from the sheep-cote," and made him " ruler over His
people Israel," and " been with him whithersoever he had
walked," and " cut off all his enemies from before him," and
" made him a name like the name of the great men that are
in the earth." " And yet," he breaks forth in his gratitude,
" this was a small thing in Thine eyes, O God ; for Thou
hast also spoken of Thy servant's house for a great while.
tQ come." 1
It is the thought of permanence — of its dignity, its grandeur,
in a word its blessing — that touches the depths of the king's
heart. His house will stand before God for ever. " Thou
blessest, O Lord, and it shall be blessed for ever."
Those who dare to invoke the blessing of God upon a
beloved human institution, and to believe that they see
1 It is a pleasure to me to refer to Dr. Vaughan's Sermon on this •
text, preached on Founder's Day.

3°o PUBLIC SCHOOLS:
graven upon its front those more than human words "for
ever" should know what they mean. God does not give
His blessings lightly or arbitrarily ; nor, when they are once
given, are they never withdrawn. Europe is strown with
the ruins of great buildings and great societies on which
once His blessing deigned to rest — buildings beside which
ours are but humble, societies of world-wide fame and
activity. Our own land, I need hardly remind you, is rich in such
memorials of bygone grandeur. When you visit, as many
of you no doubt have visited from your homes, the ruins of
some magnificent Abbey, and endeavour to picture to your
selves not merely the outward aspect of the vast mass of
associated buildings, but far more the manner of mind of
the men who designed those forms of beauty, and the men
who once inhabited those sacred walls, surely one thought
among many was this : " The blessing of God was once
here. The Lord was once in this place. It was a true
House of God. It seemed once as though it would abide
for ever." It seemed so alike to builder and inhabitant :
" They dreamed not of a perishable home
Who thus could build."
And to those who dwelt in them, the Abbeys and Monas
teries of England may well have seemed marked with the
broadest stamp of permanence ; as much a part of her vital
framework as her Cathedrals, her Universities, or her Parlia
ments. They hoped that their house would stand for ever,
. even as we trust that our house will stand now.
And have we, then, warrant for such trust ? Can we in
this generation, when more, I suppose, than at any time
since the destruction of the Monasteries, " old things," old
ideas, " are passing away," and " all things are becoming "
either changed or " new," can we venture to predict perma
nence for our Public Schools ? Can we hope that they will
stand before God and man "for ever?" If they do, they
must in the sight of God deserve it; and in the sight of
man they must seem to deserve it. There must be a work

THE CONDITIONS OF THEIR PERMANENCE. 301
for God and for the good of the nation which they, better
than any other bodies, can fulfil. They must see clearly, in
each generation, what this work is, and be willing to do it,
faithfully, humbly, vigorously. They must thus commend
themselves to the consciences and the understanding of the
holiest and the wisest men of each generation, endeared no
doubt by past memories, but valued for present services,
and so, if we may venture on such a comparison, grow each
century " in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God
and man."
And will they do this ? Will they know the time of their
visitation ? Will they, in the first place, one and all, regard
themselves as "holy to the Lord" charged with the noble
office of training men for the service of Christ ? That this
part of their vocation has in earlier times been forgotten, at
least during the eighteenth century, no candid judge will
deny. There have been long periods in the lives of the
older schools, including our own, when they were hardly in
profession places of Christian training. We associate no
thought of religion with them, and we do them no in
justice. If, then, they are to last, their standard must henceforth
be higher, otherwise they will be condemned and deserted.
They must be always ready to reconsider and readjust their
system, their customs, even the arrangements of their houses,
with a view to lessen the power of moral temptations, to
fortify struggling good, to make it easier and more natural
for a boy at school to breathe an air at least as pure, and to
catch a spirit at least as exalted, as that to which he is
accustomed in a Christian home. A great School to be
permanent must remember that its scholars are not boys
only, not schoolboys only, not merely the sons of English
gentlemen, to be brought up in habits of courtesy and
honour, but that, over and above all, they are children of
Christ, loved very dearly and separately by Him, each with
an inward spiritual life of his own, which school associations
can either invigorate or poison. And as I speak of this
high Christian standard, who of us, my. brethren, on this

302 PUBLIC SCHOOLS:

our Founder's Day, can feel that his own practice and
prayers acknowledge it?
And then there is a second condition of permanence
which every great School must resolve to satisfy. It must
secure diligence from its scholars. It is plain to every in
telligent observer that the country will be less and less
willing to tolerate the existence of an idle School. In spite
of some appearances which perhaps encourage the notion
that our upper classes are devoted to amusement, and are
content that their children should aim at no loftier standard,
we may safely pronounce that these appearances are delusive.
That which is noblest and most influential in the upper
classes themselves, that which is most earnest and most
progressively powerful in the classes below them, is united
in denouncing self-indulgence. It is not too much to say
that the very political power of the upper classes, and
eventually their social influence, are at stake on this issue.
If they are to lead the thought of their times, and to con
tinue to play the chief part in shaping and controlling the
action of the nation, it must be by asserting their superi
ority, a superiority based not only or chiefly on possessions,
or grace of manners, or high spirit, or willingness to face
dangers, but on knowledge of the nation's real wants, deep
sympathy with the poor, laborious and protracted energy in
devising means to elevate their condition, even at the risk
of diminishing their own ascendancy. I apprehend there
never was a time in history when the choice between good
and evil, which forms the probation of individual lives,
found a more visible parallel in the life of a nation than at
the momentous epoch in which our lot is cast. To the
upper classes a great opportunity is offered of leading their
countrymen vigorously towards good, or of dropping out
of the first rank, and thus robbing the State of an element
of greatness and of safety which they alone can supply.
It has been said by a great French writer,1 whose name is
associated with the rights of the many rather than the privi-
1 See Tocqueville's " France before the Revolution " (Reeve's trans
lation), page 204.

THE CONDITIONS OF THEIR PERMANENCE. 303
leges of the few : ">A class which has marched for ages in
the first rank has acquired, in this long and uncontested
exercise of greatness, a certain loftiness of heart, a natural
confidence in its strength, and a habit of being looked up
to, which makes it the most resisting element in the frame
of society. Not only is its own disposition manly, but its
example serves to augment the manliness of every other
class. By extirpating such an order its very enemies are
enervated." Let me rather say, in language more adapted
to our own position, "By the diminution of the just influence
of such a class its very opponents lose dignity and elevation
of character."
But then, as I have said, the ascendancy here implied
must be thoroughly justified by earnestness of resolution
and solidity of work. And the same spirit which makes
this demand, demands also, in a voice that cannot be un
heard, that the lesson should be taught early, and that the
children of the upper classes should not be trained on any
system which takes for granted and appears to sanction years
spent in learning to be idle, to look down on knowledge,
and to make light of duty. Henceforward it will more and
more be true that those Public Schools alone will obtain the
national confidence, and make men unwilling to let them
die, which are known to be distinguished by a spirit of
work as well as by a spirit of purity and of honour.
And sometimes, my brethren, when this thought presses
upon me, I ask myself whether that spirit of intense union
which binds together the boys of a great School during their
school life might not naturally take the form of co-operation
afterwards. Whether they might not in after years draw the
tie yet closer, and give it a fresh dearness and stringency,
by associating together, either by themselves or with kindred
spirits of other Schools, for works conducive to the public
weal. It sometimes seems to me as though from the pe
culiar constitution of these Schools — the wealth of many of
their members, their generosity, their chivalry, their great
social ascendancy, their habits of self-government, their love
of liberty, and their reverence for order — they enjoyed very

304 PUBLIC SCHOOLS:

peculiar advantages for working out with wisdom and vigour
the remedies which our times demand, and as if in them
the grand language of the Prophet1 might be conspicuously
fulfilled, " They shall build the old wastes, they shall raise
up the former desolations, and they shall repair the waste
cities, the desolations of many generations." No more
glorious future could be desired for any Public School than
that its scholars might become distinguished, singly and in
co-operation, for works of this exalted type, — men, " leaders
of the people by their counsels, and by their knowledge of
learning meet for the people, wise and eloquent in their
instructions," ..." rich men," too, " furnished with abilities,
living peaceably," but not idly, "in their habitations," . . .
"merciful men, whose righteousness" will never be "for
gotten " by the generation to which they ministered, . . men
who " were honoured in their generations, and were," indeed,
" the glory of their times." 2
If of any Public School such men as these can be not
the rare and exceptional, but the characteristic, product,
then, my brethren, we may dare to associate such a School
with the august thought of permanence. The prayer of David
may be raised in its behalf without presumption and with
out fear : " Now therefore let it please Thee to bless the
house of Thy servant, that it may be before Thee for ever :
for Thou blessest, O Lord, and it shall be blessed for ever."
And how far does this description describe ourselves?
And how far will you, my brethren, help to make it true of
us ? On some effects of your life at Harrow we may count
with tolerable certainty. You will be devotedly fond of the
place ; you will associate it hereafter with some of your
most sacred and tender friendships ; you will forget its trials
and its sorrows, and perhaps even its faults ; and your
memory will fasten with an almost blind affection upon the
intense happiness with which later years insist on investing
the morning of boyhood. You will carry with you into life
1 Isaiah lxi. 4.
2 Ecclus. xliv. the Lesson read at the Commemoration Service on
Founder's Day.

THE CONDITIONS OF THEIR PERMANENCE. 305
a sense of not unworthy pride in having been a member of
a great national institution, where you learned something of
the nobleness of public spirit, something of the beauty of
chivalry, something of the dignity of grave responsibilities,
something, let me add, of the charm and the fascination of
an opening knowledge, craving, but never on earth receiving,
a complete satisfaction.
On these results of a Harrow training we may dare to
count with some confidence. May we also venture to
reckon on those other qualities on which I have laid stress
as the necessary conditions of a School's permanence, a
spirit of sober earnest diligence, hallowed by a reverent fear of
God? Believe me, my brethren, the promptings of hope
are much nearer to my heart than the promptings of fear.
Estimating as accurately as I can the spirit which has ani
mated this beloved School during the last twenty years that
I have known her, gratefully acknowledging the loyalty of
her younger members, the cordial harmony of her rulers,
and the warm community of feeling which links together
each successive generation, so that the place becomes to
many who have left us scarcely less than a second home —
how can I doubt that the blessing of God rests upon us, or
that the future for which we humbly work will be yet far
richer in fruit than all the time that has preceded ? I would
not willingly, on an occasion like this, use the vague and
conventional language of compliment or self-complacency.
Many institutions have been smitten with palsy at the very
moment when their supporters were pronouncing them inde
structible. Let our language be humble, our standard high,
our hopes fresh, our exertions and our prayers unceasing.
Let us try to have a clear and an exalted idea of what " the
good of the School " and the " fortune of our House " really
mean, and then with one heart and one mind let us strive to
gether to advance them. Yes, together — together — you and we,
we and you — both in friendliest union with those who have
gone before, and who still dearly prize their connexion with us.
It is on no scanty family that our thoughts are dwelling
to-day, but on hundreds and hundreds of English homes,
x

306 PUBLIC SCHOOLS:

on the great Universities, on the various professions, and on
many friends that are separated by wide tracts of sea. Yes,
and on others also — for myself, I think I can say on others
chiefly— who will come to us again no more, ask no more
for old friends or for the sight of old names, but are none
the less truly ours, though we may not see their faces or;
grasp their hands. Most of you are too young to be sensible
of the losses which press upon some of us heavily to-day ;
but when I tell you that since we last commemorated our
Founder no less than three1 Heads of the School, all
friends of my own, have been called away by death, you
can perhaps conceive that the return of this anniversary
comes to some of us with very deep solemnity. They
loved this School as dearly as we do. On one of them, a
man born to be loved and trusted, the grave has but just
closed. Only this morning I received from a common
friend a letter which speaks of him in terms no less just
than affectionate : " He was one of the very best represen
tatives of Harrow. Of all my friends, I could scarcely
name one whom I should estimate more highly for a high
sense of honour and for warmth of heart. He was just the
man to raise the standard of a neighbourhood by his high
unblemished character." Another, whose name now stands
as the latest on our long roll of Benefactors, showed by the
last act and almost the last words of his brief life, that there
was no place on this earth which he held more dear than
Harrow. My brethren, let us bind yet tighter the bonds which
unite all who have ever loved and served this School.

' Draw we nearer day by day,
Each to his brethren, all to God." 2

1 John William Church, Head of the School 1 848-40, died April
4th, 1867. V
William John Hope-Edwardes, Head of the Scho61 1854-55, died
September 30th, 1S67.
John Edward Bourchier, Head of the School 1862-63, Founder
of the Bourchier Prizes, died December 23rd, 1866.
2 " Christian Year : " Hymn for Second Sunday after Trinity,

THE CONDITIONS OF THEIR PERMANENCE. 307
If we do, He will prosper our efforts, strengthening our
weakness, and correcting our errors. But if we forget Him
in our prosperity, He will disown us. If we at any time
rest satisfied with any lower standard of school government
or school life than that which we believe to be sanctioned
and required by Him, He will prove to us that our perma
nence is not necessary for His purposes.
There are certain words of Scripture which are beautiful
truisms on the lips of the young, but become solemn truths
in the mouths of men. Will you believe that I am in
earnest, when I declare to you, in the name of all that is
most sacred at Harrow, as the result of my own now
lengthening experience, and as the very lesson of Founder's
Day : " Except the Lord build the house, their labour is
but lost that build it. Except the Lord keep the city, the
watchman waketh but in vain?"1
1 Psalm cxxvii. I.
Founder's Day, October 10, 1S67.

THE END.

LONDON :
CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS,
BREAD STREET HILL.

April, 1877.
A Catalogue of Theological Books,
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Alexander.— THE LEADING IDEAS of the GOSPELS.
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Each has given us good work, several, work of rare beauty, force, or
originality ; but we doubt whether any one of them has touched deeper
chords, or brought more freshness and strength into his sermons, than the
last of their number, the present Head Master of Haileybury" — Spectator.
Butler (G.) — Works by the Rev. GEORGE Butler, M.A.,
Principal of Liverpool College :
FAMILY PRAYERS. Crown 8vo. S-f.
The prayers in this volume are all based on passages oj Scripture — the
morning prayers on Select Psalms, those for the evening on portions of the
New Testament.
SERMONS PREACHED in CHELTENHAM COLLEGE
CHAPEL. Crown 8vo. <js. 6d.
Butler (Rev. H. M.)— SERMONS PREACHED in the
CHAPEL OF HARROW SCHOOL. By H. Montagu
Butler, Head Master. Crown 8vo. 7*. 6d.
"These sermons are adapted for every household. There is nothing
more striking than the excellent good sense with which they are imbued."
¦ — Spectator. A SECOND SERIES. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.
"Excellent specimens of what sermons should be, — -plain, direct; prac
tical, pervaded' by the true spirit of the Gospel, and holding up lofty aims
beforethe minds of the young." — Athenaeum.'
Butler (Rev. W. Archer).— Works by the Rev. William
Archer Butler, M.A., late Professor of Moral Philosophy in
the University of Dublin : —
SERMONS, DOCTRINAL AND PRACTICAL. Edited,
with a Memoir1 of the Author's Life, by Thomas Woodward,
Dean of Down. With Portrait. Ninth Edition. 8vo. - 8s,
The Introductory Memoir narrates in considerable detail and with much
interest, the events of Butler's brief life; and contains a few specimens of
his poetry, and a few extracts from his addresses and essays, including a
long and eloquent passage on the Province and Duty of the Preacher.
A SECOND SERIES OF SERMONS. Edited by J. A.
Jeremie, D.D., Dean of Lincoln. Seventh Edition. 8vo. p.
The North British Re'view.raj/j, " Few sermons in our language exhibit
the same rare combination of excellencies; imagery almost as rich as
Taylor's; oratory as vigorous often as South's; judgment as sound as
Barrow's; a style as attractive but more copious, original, and forcible

theological books.

BUTLER (Rev. W. Archer)— continued.
than Atterbury's; piety as elevated as Howe's, and a fervour as intense at
times as Baxter's. Mr. Butler's are the sermons of a true poet. "
LETTERS ON ROMANISM, in reply to Dr. Newman's
Essay on Development. Edited by the Dean of Down. Second
Edition, revised by Archdeacon Hardwick. 8vo. ior. 6d.
These Letters contain an exhaustive criticism of Dr. Newman's famous
"Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine." "A work which
ought to be in the Libraty of every student of Divinity. " — Bp. St. David's.
Cambridge, Lent Sermons. — SERMONS preached
during Lent, 1864, in Great St. Mary's Church, Cambridge. By
the Bishop of Oxford, Revs. H. P. Liddon, T. L. Claughton,
J. R. Woodford, Dr. Goulburn, J. W. Burgon, T. T.
Carter, Dr. Pusey, Dean Hook, W. J. Butler, Dean Good
win. Crown 8vo. , Js. 6d.
Campbell. — Works by John M'Leod Campbell : —
THE NATURE OF THE ATONEMENT AND ITS
RELATION TO REMISSION OF SINS AND ETERNAL
LIFE. Fourth and Cheaper Edition, crown 8vo. 6s.
"Among the first theological treatises of this generation."— Guardian.
"One of the most remarkable theological books ever written." — Times.
CHRIST THE BREAD OF LIFE. An Attempt to give
a profitable direction to the present occupation of Thought with
Romanism. Second Edition, greatly enlarged. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d.
" Deserves the most attentive study by all who interest themselves in the
predominant relitrious controversy of the day." — Spectator.
REMINISCENCES AND REFLECTIONS, referring to
his Early Ministry in the Parish of Row, 1825 — 31. Edited with
an Introductory Narrative by his Son, Donald Campbell, M. A.,
Chaplain of King's College, London. Crown 8vo. Is. 6d.
These 'Reminiscences and Reflections,' written during the last year of
his life, were mainly intended to place on record thoughts which might
prove helpful to others. " We recommend this book cordially to all who
are interested in the great cause of religious reformation." — Times.
"There is a thoroughness and depth, as well as a practical earnestness,
in his grasp of each truth on which he dilates, which make his reflections
very valuable. "-^Literary Churchman.
THOUGHTS ON REVELATION, with Special Reference
to the Present Time. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 5*.

theological books.

CAMPBELL (J. M'Leod)— continued.
RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE GIFT OF ETERNAL
LIFE. Compiled by permission of the late J. M'Leod Campbell,
D.D., from Sermons preached chiefly at Row in 1829 — 31.
Crown 8vo. 5s. ' . ' "
" There is a healthy tone as well as a deep pathos' not often seen in
sermons. His words are weighty and the ideas they express tend to per
fection of life. "^-Westminster Review.
Canterbury. — By Archibald Campbell, Archbishop of
Canterbury.
THE PRESENT POSITION OF THE CHURCH OF
ENGLAND. Seven Addresses delivered to the Clergy and Church
wardens of his Diocese,' as his Charge, at his Primary Visitation, ;
1872.- Third Edition. 8 vo.' cloth. Is- 6d.
SOME THOUGHTS ON THE DUTIES OF THE ES
TABLISHED CHURCH OF ENGLAND as a National
Church. Seven, Addresses delivered at his Second Visitation.
8vo, 4s. 6a?.
Cheyne.— Works by T K.. Cheyne, M.A., Fellow of Balliol
College, Oxford : —
THE BOOK OF ISAIAH CHRONOLOGICALLY AR
RANGED. An Amended 'Version, with Historical and Critical
Introductions and. Explanatory Notes. Crown 8vo. Js. 6d.
The Westminster Review speaks of it as " a piece of scholarly work,
very carefully and considerately done." The Academy calls it "a success
ful attempt to extend a right, understanding of this important Old Testa
ment writing."
NOTES AND CRITICISMS on the HEBREW TEXT
OF ISAIAH. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d.
Choice Notes, on the Four Gospels, drawn from
Old and New Sources. Crown -8vo. 4J. 6a?. each Vol. ' (St.
Matthew and St. Mark' in one Vol. price 9-r.)
These Notes are selected from the Rev. Prebendary Ford's Illustrations
of the Four Gospels, the choice being chiefly confined to those of a more
simple and practical character. \
Church. — Works by the Very Rev. R. W. Church, M.A.,
Dean of St. Paul's.
ON SOME INFLUENCES OF CHRISTIANITY UPON
NATIONAL CHARACTER. Three Lectures delivered in St.
Paul's Cathedral, Feb. 1873. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d.

theological books.

CHURCH (Very Rev. R. W .)— continued.
"Few books that we have met with have given us keener pleasure than
this  It would, be a real pleasure to quote extensively, so wise and so
true, so tender and so discriminating are Dean Church's judgments, but
the limits of our- space are inexorable. We hope the book will be bought. "
— Literary Churchman.
THE SACRED POETRY OF EARLY RELIGIONS.
Two Lectures in St. Paul's Cathedral. i8mo. is. I. The Vedas.
II. The Psalms.
ST. ANSELM. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
"It is a sketch by the hand of a master, with everv line marked by
taste, learning, and real apprehension of the subject. "—Pall Mall Gaxptf-e. "
Clay.— THE POWER OF THE KEYS. Sermons preached
in Coventry. By the Rev. W. L. Clay, M. A. Fcap. 8vo. 3.?. 6d.
Clergyman's Self-Examination concerning the
APOSTLES' CREED. Extra fcap. 8vo. is. 6d.
Colenso.— THE COMMUNION SERVICE FROM THE
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER; with Select Readings from
the Writings of the Rev. F. D. Maurice,, MA. Edited by the
Right Rev. J. W. Colenso, D.D., Lord Bishop of Natal. New
Edition. i6mo. 2s. 6d.
Collects of the Church of England, With a beauti
fully Coloured Floral Design to each Collect, and Illuminated
Cover. Crown 8vo. 12s. Also kept in various styles of morocco.
The distinctive characteristic of this edition, is the coloured floral design
which accompanies each Collect; and which is generally emblematical of
the character of the day or saint to which, it is assigned; the flowers
which have been selected are such' as are likely to be, in ' bloom on the day to
which the Collect belongs. . The Guardian thinks it " a successful attempt
to associate in a natural and unforced manner the flowers of our fields
and gardens with the course of the Christian year."
Congreve. — HIGH HOPES, and Pleadings for a Rea
sonable Faith, Nobler Thoughts,. Larger Charity.
Sermons preached in the Parish Church of Tooting Graveney, Surrey.
By J. Congreve, M;A., Rector. Cheaper Issue. Crown 8vo. $s.
Cotton. — Works by the late George Edward Lynch
Cotton, D.D., Bishop of Calcutta : —
SERMONS PREACHED TO ENGLISH CONGREGA
TIONS IN INDIA. Crown 8vo. p. 6d.
" The sermons are models, of what sermons should be,_ not only on ac
count of their practical teachings, but also with regard- to the singular
felicity with which they are adapted to, times, places, and circumstances."
— Spectator.

8 theological books.
COTTON (Bishop)— continued.
EXPOSITORY SERMONS ON THE EPISTLES FOR
THE SUNDAYS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR. Two
Vols. Crown 8vo. 15.?.
Cure.— THE SEVEN WORDS OF CHRIST ON THE
CROSS. Sermons preached at St. George's, Bloomsbury. By
the Rev. E. Capel Cure, M.A. Fcap.- 8vo. 3.?. 6d.
Of these Sermons the^orna Bull says, " They are earnest and practical ;"
the Nonconformist, " The Sermons are beautiful, tender; and instruc
tive;" and the Spectator calls them "A set of really good Sermons"
Curteis.— DISSENT in its RELATION to the CHURCH
OF ENGLAND. Eight Lectures preached before the University
of Oxford, in the year 1871, on the foundation of the late Rev.
John Bampton, M. A., Canon of Salisbury. By George Herbert
Curteis, M.A., late Fellow and Sub-Rector of Exeter College;
Principal of the Lichfield Theological College, and Prebendary of
Lichfield Cathedral ; Rector of Turweston, Bucks. Third and
Cheaper Edition, crown 8vo. Js. 6d.
"Mr. Curteis has done good service by maintaining in an eloquent,
' temperate, and practical manner, that discussion among Christians is
really an evil,, and that an intelligent basis can be found for at least a
proximate union." — Saturday Review. "A well timed, learned, and
thoughtful book."
Davies. — Works by the Rev. J. Llewelyn Davies, M.A.,
Rector of Christ Church, St. Marylebone, etc : —
SERMONS on the MANIFESTATION OF THE SON
OF GOD.. With a Preface addressed to Laymen on the present
Position of the Clergy of the Church of England ; and an Ap
pendix on the Testimony of Scripture and the Church as to the
possibility of Pardon in the Future State. Fcap. 8vo. 6s. 6d.
"This volume, both in its substance, prefix, and suffix, represents the
noblest type of theology now preached in the English Church?* — Spectator.
THE EPISTLES of ST. PAUL TO THE EPHESIANS,
THE COLOSSIANS, and PHILEMON. With -Introductions
and Notes, and an Essay on the Traces of Foreign Elements in
the Theology of these Epistles. 8vo. is. 6d.
THE GOSPEL AND MODERN LIFE ; with a Preface
on a Recent Phase of Deism. Second Edition. To which is
added Morality according to the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper,
or Three Discourses on the Names Eucharist, Sacrifice, and Com
munion. Extra fcap. 8vo. 6s.

THEOLOGICAL books.

DAVIES (Rev. J. Llewelyn)— continued.
WARNINGS AGAINST SUPERSTITION IN FOUR
SERMONS FOR THE DAY. Extra fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d.
" We have seldom read a wiser little book. The Sermons are short,
terse, and full of true spiritual wisdom, expressed with a lucidity and a
moderation that must give them weight even with those who agree least
with their author.  Of the volume as a whole it is hardly possible to
speak with too cordial an appreciation." — Spectator.
THE CHRISTIAN CALLING. Sermons. Extra fcap.
1 8vo. 6s.
De Teissier.— Works by G. F. De Teissier, B.D.:—
VILLAGE SERMONS, First Series. Crown 8vo. gs.
VILLAGE SERMONS, Second Series. Crown 8vo. 8j. 6d.
Donaldson — THE APOSTOLICAL FATHERS: a Critical
Account of their Genuine Writings and of their Doctrines. By
James Donaldson, LL.D. Crown 8vo. p. 6d.
This book was published in 1864 as the first volume of a 'Critical
History of Christian Literature and Doctrine from the death of the
Apostles to the Nicene Council.' . The intention was to carry down the
history continuously to the time of Eusebius, and this intention has not
been abandoned. But as the writers can be sometimes grouped more easily
according to subject or, locality than according to time, it is deemed ad
visable tp publish the history of each group separately. The Introduction
to the present volume serves as an introduction to the whole period.
Drake.— THE TEACHING OF THE CHURCH DURING
THE FIRST THREE CENTURIES ON THE DOCTRINES
OF THE CHRISTIAN PRIESTHOOD AND SACRIFICE.
By the Rev. C. B. Drake, M.A., Warden of the Church of Eng
land Hall, Manchester. . Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d,
Eadie. — THE ENGLISH BIBLE. An External and Cri
tical History of the various English Translations of Scripture, with
Remarks on the Need of Revising the English New Testament.
By John Eadie, D.D., LL.D., Professor of Biblical Literature
and Exegesis, United Presbyterian Church. Two vols. 8vo. 28*.
"Accurate, scholarly, fullof'completest sympathy with the translators
and their work, and marvellously interesting. " — Literary Churchman.
" The work is' a very valuable one. It is the result of vast labour,
sound scholarship, and large erudition." — British Quarterly Review.
Ecce Homo. A Survey of the Life and Work of
Jesus Christ. Thirteenth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.

10 THEOLOGICAL BOOKS.
"A very original and remarkable book, full of striking thought and
delicate perception ; a book which has realised with wonderful vigour .and
freshness the historical magnitude of Christ's work, and which here and
there gives us readings of the finest kind of the probable motive of His indi
vidual words and actions."— Spectator. " The best and most established
believer will find it adding some fresh buttresses to his faith," — Literary
Churchman. " If we have not misunderstood him, we have before us a
writer who has a right to claim deference from those who think deepest
and know most. "—Guardian.
Faber.— SERMONS AT A NEW SCHOOL. By the Rev.
Arthur Faber, M.A., Head Master of Malvern College. ' Cr.
8vo. 6s. ' .,'¦¦'¦'•",
" These are high-toned, earnest. Sermons, orthodox and scholarlike, and
laden with encouragement and warning, wisely adapted to the needs of
school-life." — Literacy Churchman.
Farrar.^Works by the Rev. F. W. Farrar, D.D., F.R.S.,
Canon 'of Westminster, late Head Master of Marlborough College :
THE FALL OF MAN, AND OTHER SERMONS.
Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
The Nonconformist says of these Sermons, "Mr. Farrar's Sermons
are almost perfect specimens of one type of Sermons, which we may con
cisely call beautiful. The style of expression is beautiful — there is beauty
in the thoughts, ' the illustrations, the allusions— they are expressive of
genuinely beautiful perceptions' and feelings. " The British Quarterly says,
"Ability, eloquence, scholarship, and practical usefulness, are in these
Sermons combined in a very unusual degree. "
THE WITNESS OF HISTORY TO CHRIST. Being
the Hulsean Lectures for 1870. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. $s.
The following are the subjects of the Five Lectures : — /. " The Ante
cedent Credibility of the Miraculous." II. " The Adequacy of the Gospel
Records." III. " The Victories of Christianity." IV. " Christianity and
the Individual." V. " Christianity and the Race." The subjects of the
four Appendices are: — A. "The Diversity of Christian Evidences."
B. "Confucius." C. "Buddha." D. " Comte."
SEEKERS AFTER GOD, The Lives of Seneca, Epiejetus,
and Marcus Aurelius. New Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
"A very interesting and valuable book." — Saturday Review.
THE SILENCE AND VOICES OF GOD : University
and other Sermons. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s,
"We can most cordially recommend Dr. Farrar's singularly beautiful
volume of Sermons  For beauty of diction, felicity of style, aptness of
illustration and earnest loving exhortation, the volume is without its
parallel. " — John Bull. ' ' They are marked by great ability, by an honesty

THEOLOGICAL BOOKS. n
FARRAR (Rev. F. VI .)— continued.
which does not hesitate to acknowledge difficulties and by an earnestness
which commands respect." — Pall Mall Gazette.
" IN THE DAYS OF THY YOUTH." Sermons on Prac
tical Subjects, preached at Marlborough College from 1871 — 76.
Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 9.?.
"All Dr. Farrar's peculiar charm of style is apparent here, all that
care and subtleness of analysis, and an even-added distinctness and clear
ness of moral teaching, which is what every kind of sei-mon wants, and
especially, a sermon to boys." — Literary Churchman.
Fellowship : Letters Addressed to my Sister
Mourners. Fcap. 8vo. cloth gilt. 3^-. 6d.
Forbes.— THE VOICE OF GOD IN THE PSALMS.
By Granville Forbes, Rector of Broughton. Cr. 8vo. 6s. 6d.
Gifford.— THE GLORY OF GOD IN MAN. By E. H.
Gifford, D.D. Fcap. 8vo., cloth. y.6d,
Hardwick. — Works by the Ven. Archdeacon Hardwick :
CHRIST AND OTHER MASTERS. A Historical Inquiry
into some of the Chief Parallelisms and Contrasts between Christ
ianity and the Religious Systems of the Ancient World. New
Edition, revised, and a Prefatory Memoir by the Rev. Francis
Procter, M. A. Fourth and Cheaper Edition. Cr. 8vo. 10s. 6d.
The plan of the work is boldly and almost nobly conceived, , , , We com
mend it to the perusal of all those who take interest in the study of ancient
mythology, without losing their reverence for the supreme authority of the
oracles of the living God. " — Christian Observer.
A HISTORY OF THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. Middle
1 Age. From Gregory the Great to the Excommunication of Luther,
Edited by William Stubbs, M.A., Regius Professor of Modern
History in the University of Oxford. With Four Maps constructed
for this work by A. Keith Johnston. Fourth Edition. Crown
8vo. ior. 6d.
"As a Manual for the student of ecclesiastical history in the Middle
Ages, we know no English work which can be compared to Mr. Hardwick' s
book, " — Guardian.
A HISTORY of the CHRISTIAN CHURCH DURING
THE REFORMATION. Fifth Edition, revised by Professor
Stubbs. Crown 8vo. 10s. 6d.
This volume is intended as a sequel and companion to the "History
of the Christian Church during the Middle Age. "

THEOLOGICAL BOOKS.

Hare. — Works by the late Archdeacon Hare : —
THE VICTORY OF FAITH. By Julius CHARLES
Hare, M. A., Archdeacon of Lewes. Edited by Prof. Plumptre.
With Introductory- Notices by the late Prof. Maurice and Dean
Stanley. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 6d.
THE MISSION OF THE COMFORTER. With Notes.
New Edition, edited by Prof. E. H. Plumtre. Crn. 8vo. 7-r. 6d.
Harris. — SERMONS. By the late GEORGE COLLYER
Harris, Prebendary of Exeter, and Vicar of St. Luke's, Torquay.
With Memoir by CHARLOTTE M. YoNGE, and Portrait. Extra
fcap. 8vo. 6s.
Hervey.— THE GENEALOGIES OF OUR LORD AND
SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST, as contained in the Gospels of
St. Matthew and St. Luke, reconciled with each other, and shown
to be, in .harmony with the true Chronology of the Times. By Lord
Arthur Hervey, Bishop of Bath and Wells. 8vo. los. 6d.
Hort. — TWO DISSERTATIONS. I. On MONOrENHS 0EO2
in Scripture and Tradition. II. On the " Constantinopolitan"
Creed and other Eastern Creeds of the Fourth Century. By F. J. A.
Hort, D.D., Fellow and Divinity Lecturer of Emmanuel Col
lege, Cambridge. 8vo. p. 6d.
Howson (Dean) — Works by :—
BEFORE THE TABLE. An Inquiry, Historical and" Theo
logical, into the True Meaning of the Consecration Rubric in the
Communion Service of the Church of England. By the Very Rev.
J. S. Howson, D.D., Dean of Chester. With an Appendix and
Supplement containing Papers by the Right Rev. the Bishop of
St. Andrew's and the Rev. R. W. Kennion, M.A. 8vo. p. 6d.
THE POSITION OF THE PRIEST DURING CON
SECRATION in the English Communion Service. A
Supplement and a Reply. Crown 8vo. 2S. 6d.
Hymni Ecclesiae. — Fcap. 8vo. -js. 6d.
This collection was edited by Dr. Newman while he lived at Oxford.
Hyacinthe.— CATHOLIC REFORM. By Father
Hyacinthe. Letters, Fragments, Discourses. Translated by
Madame Hyacinthe-Loyson. With a Preface by the Very Rev.
A. P. Stanley, D.D., Dean of Westminster. Cr. 8vo. p. 6d.
"A valuable contribution to the religious literature of the day, and is
especially opportune at a time when a controversy of no ordinary import
ance upon the very subject it deals with is engaged in all over Europe. " —
Daily Telegraph.

THEOLOGICAL BOOKS. 13
Imitation of Christ.' — Four Books. Translated from the
Latin, with Preface by the Rev. W. Benham, B.D., Vicar of
Margate. Printed with Borders in the Ancient Style after Holbein,
Diirer, and other Old Masters. Containing Dances of Death, Acts
of Mercy, Emblems, and a variety of curious ornamentation. Cr.
8vo. gilt edges. p. 6d.
Jacob, — BUILDING IN SCIENCE, and other Ser
mons. By J. A. Jacob, M.A., Minister of St. Thomas's, Pad-
dington. Extra fcap. 8vo. 6s.
Jennings and Lowe. — THE PSALMS, with Introduc
tions and Critical Notes. By A. C. Jennings, B.A., Jesus Col
lege, Cambridge, Tyrwhitt Scholar, Crosse Scholar, Hebrew
University Scholar, and Fry Scholar of St. John's College; helped
in parts by W. H. Lowe, M. A., Hebrew Lecturer and late Scholar
of Christ's College, Cambridge, and Tyrwhitt Scholar. Complete
in two vols, crown 8vo. 10s. 6d. each. Vol. 1, Psalms i. — Ixxii., with
Prolegomena ; Vol. ¦/., Psalms lxxiii.^cl.
Killen.— THE ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY OF IRE
LAND from the Earliest Period to the Present Time. By W. D.
Killen, D.D., President of Assembly's College, Belfast, and
Professor of Ecclesiastical' History. Two vols. 8vo. 25.C
" Those who have the leisure will do well to read these two volumes.
They are full of interest, and are the result of great research." — Spec
tator. Kingsley. — Works by the late Rev. CHARLES KiNGSLEY,
M.A., Rector of Eversley, and Canon of Westminster.
THE WATER OF LIFE, AND OTHER SERMONS.
Fourth Edition. Fcap. 8vo. y. 6d.
VILLAGE SERMONS. Eighth Edition. Fcap.8vo. ys.iad.
THE GOSPEL OF THE PENTATEUCH. , Second
Edition. Fcap. 8vo. y. 6d.
¦ GOOD NEWS OF GOD. Sixth Edition. Crown 8vo.
6s.
This volume contains thirty-nine short Sermons, preached in the
ordinary course of the author 's parochial ministrations.
SERMONS FOR THE TIMES. Third Edition. Fcap.
8vo. 2s- 6d.
Here are twenty-two Sermons, all bearing more or less on the every-day
life of the present day, including such subjects as these: — "Fathers and
Children;" "A Good Conscience;" "Names;" "Sponsorship;" "Duty

H THEOLOGICAL BOOKS.
KINGSLEY (Rev. C.)— continued.
and Superstition;'1 "England's Strength;" "The. Lord's Prayer;"
"Shame;" ''Forgiveness;" " The True Gentleman :" "Public Spirit."
TOWN AND COUNTRY SERMONS. Second Edition.
Extra fcap. 8vo. y. 6d.
SERMONS on NATIONAL SUBJECTS. Second Edition,
Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d.
THE KING OF THE EARTH, and other Sermons,
a Second Series of Sermons on National Subjects. Second
Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d.
DISCIPLINE, AND other Sermons. Second Edition.
Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d.
The Guardian says, — "There is much thought, tenderness, and devout-
ness of spirit in these Sermons, and some of them are models both in
matter and expression."
DAVID. Five Sermons. Second Edition, enlarge^. Fcap.
8vo. 2s. 6d. ,
These Sermons, were preached before the University of Cambridge,
and are specially addressed to young men. Their titles are, — "David's
Weakness;" " David 's Strength ;" "Dqvid's Anger;" "David's Deserts."
WESTMINSTER SERMONS. 8vo. 10s. 6d.
These Sermons were preached at Westminster Abbey or at one of the
Chapels Royal. Their subjects are : — The Mystery of the Cross : The Per
fect Love: The Spirit of Whitsuntide : Prayer: The: Deaf and Dumb:
The Fruits of the Spirit.' ^Confusion ¦' The Shaking of the Heavens and
the Earth: The Kingdom of God: The Law of the Lord: God the
. Teacher : The Reasonable Prayer : The One Escape : The Word of God:
I: The Cedars of Lebanon : Life: Death : Signs and Wonders : The
Judgments of God: The War in Heaven:- Noble Company: De.Pro-
fundis : The Blessing and the Curse : The Silence of Faith : God and
Mammon : The Beatific Vision.
Kynaston.— SERMONS PREACHED IN THE COL
LEGE CHAPEL, CHELTENHAM, during the First Year
of his Office. By the Rev. Herbert Kynaston, M.A., Princi
pal of Cheltenham College. Crown 8vo. 6.?.
Lightfoot. — Works by J. B. LlGHTFOOT, D.D., Hulsean
Professor of Divinity in the University of Cambridge ; Canon of
St. Paul's.
S. PAUL'S EPISTLE TO THE GALATIANS. A. Re-

THEOLOGICAL BOOKS. 15
LIGHTFOOT (Rev. J. B.)— continued.
vised Text, with Introduction, Notes, and Dissertations. Fifth
Edition, revised. 8vo. cloth. 12s.
While the Author's object has been to make this commentary generally
complete, he has paid special attention to everything relating to St. Pauls
personal history and his intercourse with the Apostles and Church of the
Circumcision, as it is this feature in*the Epistle to the Galatiahs which
has given it an overwhelming interest in recent theological controversy.
The Spectator says "there, is no commentator at once of sounder judg
ment and more liberal than Dr. Lighifoot. "
ST. PAUL'S EPISTLE TO THE PHILIPPIANS. A
Revised Text, with Introduction, Notes, and Dissertations. Fourth
Edition. 8vo. 12s.
"No commentary in the English language can be compared with it in
regard to fulness of information, exact scholarship, and laboured attempts
to settle everything about the epistle on a solid foundation. "- — Athenaeum.
ST. PAUL'S EPISTLES TO THE COLOSSIANS AND
PHILEMON. A Revised Text with Introduction, Notes, etc
Second Edition. 8vo. \2s.
' ' It bears marks of continued and extended reading and research, and
of ampler materials at command. Indeed, it leaves, nothing to be desired
by those who seek to study thoroughly the epistles contained in it, and to do
so with all known advantages presented in sufficient detail and in conve
nient form. " — Guardian.
S. CLEMENT OF ROME, THE TWO EPISTLES TO
THE CORINTHIANS. A Revised Text, with Introduction
and Notes. 8vo. &s. 6d.
This volume is the first part of a complete edition 0/ the Apostolic
Fathers. The Introductions deal with the questions of the genuineness and
authenticity of the Epistles, discuss their date and character, and analyse
their contents. An account is also given of all the different epistles which
bear the name of Clement of Rome. ' 'By far the most copiously annotated
edition of St. Clement which we yet possess, and the most convenient in
every way for the English reader." — Guardian.,
S. CLEMENT OF ROME. An Appendix containing the
newly- discovered portions of the two Epistles to the Corinthians
with Introductions and Notes, and a Translation of the whole.
8vo. 8s. 6d.
ON A FRESH REVISION OF THE ENGLISH NEW
TESTAMENT. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
The Author shews in detail the necessity for a fresh' revision of the
authorized version on the following grounds: — I. False Readings. 2.
Artificial distinctions created. 3. Real distinctions obliterated. 4. Faults

16 THEOLOGICAL BOOKS.
of Grammar. 5. Faults of Lexicography. 6. Treatment of Proper
Names, official titles, etc, J. Archaisms, defects in the English, errors
of the press, etc. " The book is marked by careful scholarship, familiarity
with the subject, sobriety, and circumspection. " — Athenseum.
Luckock.— THE TABLES OF STONE. A Course of
Sermons preached in All Saints' Church, Cambridge, by H. M.
Luckock, M.A., Canon of Ely. Fcap. 8vo. 3.?. 6d.
Maclaren — SERMONS PREACHED at MANCHESTER.
By Alexander Maclaren. Sixth Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d.
These Sermons represent no special school, but deal with the broad prin
ciples of Christian truth, especially in their bearing on practical, every day
life. A few of the titles are: — "The Stone of Stumbling," "Love and
Forgiveness," "The Living Dead," "Memory in Another World,"
Faith in Christ," "Love and Fear," "The Choice of Wisdom," "The
Food of the World."
A SECOND SERIES OF SERMONS. Fourth Edition.
Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d.
The Spectator characterises them as "vigorous in style, full of thought,
rich in illustration, and in an unusual degree interesting. '
A THIRD SERIES OF SERMONS. Third Edition.
Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d.
Sermons more sober and yet more forcible, and with a certain wise and
practical spirituality about them it would not be easy to find." — Spettator.
Maclear. — Works by the Rev. G. F. Maclear, D.D., Head
Master of King's College School : —
A CLASS-BOOK OF OLD TESTAMENT HISTORY.
With Four Maps. Tenth Edition. i8mo. 4J. 6d.
" The present volume," says the Preface, "forms a Class-Book of Old
Testament History from the Earliest Times to those of Ezra and Nehe-
miah. In its preparation the most recent authorities have been consulted,
and wherever it has appeared useful, Notes have been subjoined illustra
tive of the Text, and, for the sake of more advanced students, references
added to larger works. The Index has been so arranged as to form a
concise Dictionary of the Persons and Places mentioned in the course of the
Narrative." The Maps, prepared by Stanford, materially add to the
value and usefulness of the book. The British Quarterly Review calls it
"A careful and elaborate, though brief compendium of all that modern
research has done for the illustration of the Old Testament. We know of
no work which contains so much important information in so small a
compass."

THEOLOGICAL BOOKS. 17
MACLEAR (Dr. G. F '.)— continued.
APOSTLES OF MEDIAEVAL EUROPE. Cr. 8vo. 4s.6d.
In tivo Introductory Chapters the author notices some of the chief cha
racteristics of the mediceval period itself; gives a graphic sketch of the de
vastated state of Europe at the beginning of that period, and an interesting
account of the religions of the three great groups of vigorous barbarians —
the Celts, the Teutons, and the Sclaves — who had, wave after wave, over
flowed its surface. He then proceeds to sketch the lives and work of the
chief of the courageous men who devoted themselves to the stupendous task
of their conversion and civilization, during a period extending from the
$th to the 13th century; such as St. Patrick, St. Columba, St. Colum-
banus, St. Augustine of Canterbury, St. Boniface, St. Olaf, St. Cyril,
Raymond Sull, and others. "Mr. Maclear will have done a great work
if his admirable little volume shall help to break up the dense ignorance
which is still prevailing among people at large." — Literary Churchman,
A CLASS-BOOK OF NEW TESTAMENT HISTORY.
Including the Connexion of the Old and New Testament. Sixth
Edition. l8mo. <,s. 6d.
The present volume forms a sequel to the Author's Class-Book of Old
' Testament History, and continues the narrative to the close of S. Paul's
second imprisonment at Rome. The work is divided into three Books —
/. The Connection between the Old and New Testament. II. The
Gospel History. III. The Apostolic History. In the Appendix are given
Chronological Tables. The Clerical Journal says, "It is not often that
such an amount of useful and interesting matter on biblical subjects, is
found in so convenient and small a compass, as in this well-arranged
volume. "
A CLASS-BOOK OF THE CATECHISM OF THE
CHURCH OF ENGLAND. New and Cheaper Edition. i8mo.
is. 6d.
7he present work is intended as a sequel to the two preceding books,
"Like them, it is furnished with notes and references to larger works,
and it is hoped that it may be found, especially in the higher forms of our
Public Schools, to supply a suitable manual of instruction in the chief
doctrines of our Church, and a useful help in the preparation of Can
didates for Confirmation." The Literary Churchman says, " It is indeed
the work of a scholar and divinej and as such, though extremely simple, it
is also extremely instructive. There are few clergy who would not find
it useful in preparing candidates for Confirmation; and there are not a'
few who would find it useful to themselves as well. "
A FIRST CLASS-BOOK OF THE CATECHISM OF
THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND, with Scripture Proofs for
Junior Classes and Schools. New Edition. l8mo. 6d.
This is an epitome of the larger Class-book, meant for junior students

THEOLOGICAL BOOKS.

MACLEAR (Dr. G. F .)— continued.
and elementary classes. The book has been carefully condensed, so as to
contain clearly and fully, the most important part of the contents of the
larger book.
A SHILLING-BOOK of OLD TESTAMENT HISTORY.
New Edition. i8mo. cloth limp. is.
This Manual bears the same relation to the larger Old Testament Hist
ory., that the book just mentioned does to the larger work on the Catechism.
It consists of Ten Books, divided into short chapters, and subdivided into
sections, each section treating of a single episode in the history, the title of
which is given in bold type.
¦ A SHILLING-BOOK of NEW TESTAMENT HISTORY.
New Edition. i8mo. cloth limp. is.
A MANUAL OF INSTRUCTION FOR CONFIRMA
TION AND FIRST COMMUNION, with. Prayers and Devo
tions. 32mo. cloth extra, red edges. 2s.
This is an enlarged and improved edition of ' The Order of Confirma
tion.' To it have been added the Communion Office, with Notes and
Explanations, together with a brief form of Self Examination and De
votions selected from the works of Cosin, Ken, Wilson, and others.
THE ORDER OF CONFIRMATION, with Prayers and
Devotions. 32mo. cloth. 6d.
THE FIRST COMMUNION, with Prayers and Devotions
for the Newly Confirmed. 32mo. 6d.
THE HOUR OF SORROW ; or, The Order for the Burial
of the Dead. With Prayers and Hymns. 32mo. cloth extra. 2s.
Macmillan. — Works by the Rev. Hugh Macmillan, LL.D.,
F. R. S. E. (For other Works by the same Author, see Catalogue
of Travels and Scientific Catalogue).
THE TRUE VINE ; or, the Analogies of our Lord's
Allegory. Third Edition. Globe 8vo. 6s.
The Nonconformist says, " It abounds in exquisite bits of description,
and in striking facts, clearly stated. " The British Quarterly says, ' ' Readers
and preachers who are unscientific will find many of his illustrations as
valuable as they are beautiful."
BIBLE TEACHINGS IN NATURE. Tenth Edition.
Globe 8vo. 6s.
In this volume the author has endeavoured to shew that the teaching of
nature and the teaching of the Bible are directed to the same great end ;
that the Bible contains the spiritual truths which are necessary to make us

THEOLOGICAL BOOKS. 19
MACMILLAN (Rev. H.)— continued.
wise unto salvation, and the objects and scenes of nature are the pictures
by which these truths are illustrated. "He has made the world more
beautiful to us, and unsealed our ears to voices of praise and messages of
love that might otherwise have been unheard." — British Quarterly Review.
"Mr. Macmillan has produced a book which may be fitly described as one
of the happiest efforts for enlisting physical science in the direct service of
religion. " — Guardian.
THE SABBATH OF THE FIELDS. A Sequel to " Bible
Teachings in Nature. " Second Edition. Globe 8vo. 6s.
" This volume, like all Dr. Macmillan' s productions, is very delight
ful reading, and of a special kind. Imagination, natural science, and
religious instruction are blended together in a very charming way." —
British Quarterly Review.
THE MINISTRY OF NATURE. Fourth Edition. Globe
8vo. 6j.
" Whether the reader agree or not with his conclusions, he will ac
knowledge he is in the presence of an original and thoughtful writer." —
Pall Mall Gazette. "There is no class of educated men and women that
will not profit by these essays." — Standard.
OUR LORD'S THREE RAISINGS FROM THE DEAD.
Globe 8vo. 6s.
M'Clellan.— THE NEW TESTAMENT. A New Trans
lation on the Basis of the Authorised Version, from a Critically re
vised Greek Text, with Analyses, copious References and Illus
trations from original authorities, New Chronological and Ana
lytical Harmony of the Four Gospels, Notes and Dissertations.
A contribution to Christian Evidence. By John Brown M'Clel
lan, M. A. , late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. In Two
Vols. Vol. I. — The Four Gospels with the Chronological and
Analytical Harmony. 8vo. 30J.
" One of the most remarkable productions of recent times" says the
Theological Review," " in this department of sacred literature ;" and the
British Quarterly Review terms it "a thesaurus of first-hand investiga
tions." Maurice. — Works by the late Rev. F. Denison Maurice,
M.A., Professor of Moral Philosophy in. the University of Cam
bridge.
The Spectator says — "Few of those of our own generation whose names
will'live in English history or literature have exerted so profound and so
permanent an influence as Mr. Maurice."

20 THEOLOGICAL BOOKS.
MAURICE (Rev. F. D .)— continued.
THE PATRIARCHS AND LAWGIVERS OF THE
' OLD TESTAMENT. Third and Cheaper Edition. _ Crown
8vo. 5-r.
The Nineteen Discourses contained in this volume were preached in the
chapel of Lincoln' s Inn during the year 1851. The texts are taken from
the books of Genesis, Exodus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges,
and Samuel, and involve some of the most interesting biblical topics dis
cussed in recent times.
THE PROPHETS AND KINGS OF THE OLD TES
TAMENT. Third Edition, with new Preface. Crown 8vb.
las. 6d.
Mr. Maurice, in the spirit which animated the compilers of the Church
Lessons, has in these Sermons regarded the Prophets more as preachers of
righteousness than as mere predictors — an aspect of their lives which, he
thinks, has been greatly overlooked in our day, and than which, there is
none we have more need to contemplate. He has found that the Old
Testament Prophets, taken in their simple natural sense, clear up many
of the difficulties which beset us in the daily work of life ; make the past
intelligible, the present endurable, and the future real and hopeful.
THE GOSPEL OF THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN.
A Series of Lectures on the Gospel of St. Luke. Crown 8vo. gs.
Mr. Maurice, in his Preface to these Twenty-eight Lectures, says, —
"In these Lectures I have endeavoured to ascertain what is told us respect
ing the life of Jesus by one of those Evangelists who proclaim Him to be
the Christ, who says that He did come from a Father, that He did baptize
with the Holy Spirit, that He did rise from the dead. I have chosen tlie
one who is most directly connected with the later history of the Church,
who was not an Apostle, who professedly wrote for the use of a man
already instructed in the faith of the Apostles. I have followed the course
of the writers narrative, not changing it under any pretext. I have
adhered to his phraseology, striving to avoid the substitution of any other,
for his. "
THE GOSPEL OF ST. JOHN. A Series of Discourses.
Third and Cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
The Literary Churchman thus speaks of this volume: "Thorough
honesty, reverence, and deep thought pervade the work, which is every
way solid and philosophical, as well as theological, and abounding with
suggestions which the patient student may draw out more at length for
himself. "
THE EPISTLES OF ST. JOHN. A Series of Lectures
on Christian Ethics. Second and Cheaper Edition. Cr. 8vo. 6s.
These Lectures on Christian Ethics were delivered to the students of the

THEOL 0 GICAL BO OKS. 2 1
MAURICE (Rev. F. D.)— continued.
Working Men's College, Great Ormond Street, London, on a series of
Sunday mornings. Mr. Maurice believes that the question in which we
are most interested, the question which most affects our studies and our daily
lives, is the question, whether there is a foundation for human morality,
or whether it is dependent upon the opinions and fashions of different ages
and countries. This important question will be found amply and fairly
discussed in this volume, which the National Review calls "Mr.
Maurice's most effective and instructive work. He is peculiarly fitted
by the constitution of his mind, to throw light on St. John's writings. "
Appended is a note on "Positivism and its Teacher."
EXPOSITORY SERMONS ON THE PRAYER-BOOK.
The Prayer-book considered especially in reference to the Romish
System. Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. $s. 6d.
After an Introductory Sermon, Mr. Maurice goes over the various parts
of the Church Service, expounds in eighteen Sermons, their intention and
significance, and shews how appropriate they are as expressions of the
deepest longings and wants of all classes of men.
WHAT IS REVELATION? A Series of Sermons on the
Epiphany; to which are added, Letters to a Theological Student
on the Bampton Lectures of Mr. Mansel. Crown 8vo. \os. 6d.
Both Sermons and Letters were called forth by the doctrine ?naintained
by Mr. Mansel in his Bampton Lectures, that Revelation cannot be a direct
Manifestation of the Infinite Nature of God. Mr. Maurice maintains
the opposite doctrine,, and in his Sermons explains why, in spite of the high
authorities on the other side, he must still assert the principle which he
discovers in the Services of the Church and throughout the Bible.
SEQUEL TO THE INQUIRY, "WHAT IS REVELA
TION?" Letters in Reply to Mr. Mansel's Examination of
" Strictures on the Bampton Lectures." Crown 8vo. 6s.
This, as the title indicates, was called forth by Mr. Mansel's Examina
tion of Mr. Maurice's Strictures on his doctrine of. the Infinite.
THEOLOGICAL ESSAYS. Third Edition. Crown 8vo.
1 or. 6d.
"The book," says Mr. Maurice, "expresses thoughts which have been
working in my mind for years ; the method of it has not been adopted
carelessly; even the composition has undergone frequent revision. " There
are seventeen Essays in all, and although meant primarily for Unitarians,
to quote the words of the Clerical Journal, " it leaves untouched scarcely
any topic which is in agitation in the religious world ; scarcely a moot
point between our various sects ; scarcely a plot of debateable ground be
tween Christians and Infidels, between Romanists and Protestants, between

THEOLOGICAL BOOKS.

MAURICE (Rev. F. D .)— continued.
Socinians and other Christians, between English Churchmen and Dis
senters on both sides. Scarce is there a misgiving, a difficulty, an aspira
tion stirring amongst us now,— now, when men seem in earnest as hardly
ever before about religion, and ask and demand satisfaction with u. fear
lessness which seems almost awful when one thinks what is at stake — which
is not recognised and grappled with by Mr. Maurice."
THE DOCTRINE OF SACRIFICE DEDUCED FROM
THE SCRIPTURES. Crown 8vo. p. 6d.
THE RELIGIONS OF THE WORLD, AND THEIR
RELATIONS TO CHRISTIANITY. Fourth Edition. Fcap.
8vo. 5s.
ON THE LORD'S PRAYER. Fourth Edition. Fcap.
8vo. 2s. 6d.
ON THE SABBATH DAY; the Character of the Warrior,
and on the Interpretation of History. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d.
THE LORD'S PRAYER, THE CREED, AND THE
COMMANDMENTS. A Manual for Parents and Schoolmasters.
To which is added the Order of the Scriptures. l8mo.' cloth
limp. is.
DIALOGUES ON FAMILY WORSHIP. Crown 8vo. 6s.
MORAL AND METAPHYSICAL PHILOSOPHY. Vol.
I. Ancient Philosophy from the First to the Thirteenth Centuries.
Vol. II. Fourteenth Century and the French Revolution, with a
Glimpse into the Nineteenth Century. Two Vols. 8vo. 25J.
This is an edition in two volumes of Professor Maurice's History of
Philosophy from the earliest period to the present time. It was formerly
issued in a number of separate volumes, and it is believed that all admirers
of the author and all students of philosophy will welcome this compact
edition. In a long introduction to this edition, in the form of a dialogue,
Professor Maurice justifies his own views, and touches upon some of the
most important topics of the time.
SOCIAL MORALITY. Twenty-one Lectures delivered in
the University of Cambridge. New and Cheaper Edition. Cr.
8vo. 1 or. 6d.
"Whilst reading it we are charmed by the freedom from exclusiveness
and prejudice, the large charity, the loftiness of thought, the eagerness to
recognise and appreciate whatever there is of real worth extant in the
world, which animates it from one end to the other. We gain new
thoughts and new ways of viewing things, even more, perhaps, from being
brought for a time under the influence of so noble and spiritual a mind.".
— Athenaeum.

THEOLOGICAL BOOKS. 23
MAURICE (Rev. F. D.)— continued.
THE CONSCIENCE : Lectures on Casuistry, delivered in
the University of Cambridge. Second and Cheaper Edition.
Crown 8vo. 5^
The Saturday Review says: " We rise from the perusal of these lec
tures with a detestation of all that is selfish and mean, and with a living
impression that there is such a thing as goodness after all."
LECTURES ON THE ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY
OF THE FIRST AND SECOND CENTURIES. 8vo. ior. 6d.
LEARNING AND WORKING. Six Lectures delivered
in Willis's Rooms, London, in June and July, 1854. — THE
RELIGION OF ROME, and its Influence on Modem Civilisa
tion. Four Lectures delivered in the Philosophical Institution of
Edinburgh, in December, 1854. Crown 8vo. 5-r.
SERMONS PREACHED IN COUNTRY CHURCHES.
, Crown 8vo. 10s. 6d.
"Earnest, practical, and extremely simple." — Literary Churchman.
"Good specimens of his simple and earnest eloquence. The Gospel inci
dents are realized with a vividness which we can well believe made the
common people hear him gladly. Moreover they are sermons which must
have done the hearers good." — John Bull.
Moorhouse. — Works by James Moorhouse, M.A., Bishop
of Melbourne : —
SOME MODERN DIFFICULTIES RESPECTING the
FACTS OF NATURE AND REVELATION. Fcap. 8vo.
' 2j. 6d.
JACOB. Three Sermons preached before the University of
Cambridge in Lent 1870. Extra fcap. 8vo. 3*. 6d.
O'Brien. — PRAYER. Five Sermons preached in the Chapel
of Trinity College, Dublin. By James Thomas O'Brien, D.D.,
Bishop of Ossory and Ferns. 8vo. 6s.
" It is with much pleasure and satisfaction that we render our humble
tribute to the value of a publication whose author deserves to be remembered
¦ with such deep respect. " — Church Quarterly Review.
Palgrave. — HYMNS. By Francis Turner Palgrave.
Third Edition, enlarged. i8mo. u. 6d.
This is a collection of twenty original Hymns, which the Literary
Churchman speaks of as "so choice, so perfect, and so refined, — so tender
in feeling, and so scholarly in expression."

24 THEOLOGICAL BOOKS.
Paul of Tarsus. An Inquiry into the Times and the
Gospel of the Apostle of the Gentiles. By a Graduate. 8vo.
ios. 6d. (
" Turn where we will throughout the volume, we find the best fruit
of patient inquiry, sound, scholarship, logical argument, and fairness of
conclusion. No thoughtful reader will rise from its perusal without a
real and lasting profit to himself, and a sense of permanent addition to
the cause of truth." — Standard.'
Picton.— THE MYSTERY OF MATTER; and other
Essays. By J. Allanson Picton, Author of "New Theories
and the Old Faith." Crown 8vo. ior. 6a?.
Contents — The Mystery of Matter : The Philosophy of Ignorance: The
Antithesis of. Faith and Sight: The Essential Nature of Religion:'
Christian Pantheism.
Prescott  THE THREEFOLD CORD. Sermons preached
before the University of Cambridge. By J. E. Prescott', B.D.
Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d.
Procter.— A HISTORY OF THE BOOK OF COMMON
PRAYER: With a Rationale of its Offices. By Francis
Procter, M.A. Twelfth Edition, revised and enlarged. Crown
8vo. las. 6d.
The Athenaeum says: — "The origin of every part of the Prayer-book
has been diligently investigated, — and there are few questions or facts con
nected with it which are not either sufficiently explained, or so referred to,
that persons interested may work out the truth for themselves."
Procter and Maclear.— AN ELEMENTARY INTRO
DUCTION TO THE BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER.
Re-arranged and Supplemented by an Explanation of the Morning
and Evening Prayer and the Litany. By F. Procter, M.A. and
G. F. Maclear, D.D. Ninth Edition. i8mo. 2s. 6d.
The Literary Churchman characterizes it as " by far the completest
and most satisfactory book of its kind we know. We wish it were in
the hands of every schoolboy and every schoolmaster in the kingdom."
Psalms of David CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED.
An Amended Version, with Historical Introductions and Ex
planatory Notes. By Four Friends. Second and Cheaper
Edition, much enlarged. Crown 8vo. &s. 6d.
One of the chief designs of the Editors, in preparing this volume, was
to restore the Psalter as far as possible to the order in -which the Psalms
were written. They give the division of each Psalm into strophes, and
of each strophe into the lines which composed it, and amend the errors of
translation. The Spectator calls it "One of the most instructive and
valuable books that have been published for many years. "

THEOLOGICAL BOOKS. 25
Golden Treasury Psalter. — The Student's Edition.
Being an Edition of the above with briefer Notes. l8mo. 3s. 6d.
The aim of this edition is simply to put the reader as far as possible in
possession of the plain meaning of the writer. " It is a gem," the Non
conformist says.
Ramsay.— THE CATECHISER'S MANUAL; or, the
Church Catechism Illustrated and Explained, for the Use of
Clergymen, Schoolmasters, and Teachers. By Arthur Ramsay,
M.A. Second Edition. l8mo. is. 6d.
Rays of Sunlight for Dark Days. A Book of Selec
tions for the Suffering. With a Preface by C. J. Vaughan, D.D.
- ' l8mo. Seventh Edition. 3s. 6d. Also in morocco, old style.
Dr. Vaughan says in the Preface, after speaking of the general run of
Books of Comfort for Mourners, "ft is because I think that the little
volume now offei'ed to the Christian sufferer is one of greater wisdom and
of deeper experience, that I have readily consented to the request that I
would introduce it by a few words of Preface." The book consists of a
series of very brief extracts from a great variety of authors, in prose and
poetry, suited to the many moods of a mourning or suffering mind.
"Mostly gems of the first water. " — Clerical Journal.
Reynolds.— NOTES OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. A
Selection of Sermons by Henry Robert Reynolds, B.A.,
President of Cheshunt College, and Fellow of University College,
London. Crown 8vo. 7.J. 6d.
Roberts.— DISCUSSIONS ON THE GOSPELS. By the
Rev. Alexander Roberts, D.D. Second Edition, revised and
enlarged. 8vo. 16s.
Robinson.— MAN IN THE IMAGE OF GOD ; and other
Sermons preached in the Chapel of the Magdalen, Streatham,
1874  76. By H. G. Robinson, M.A., Prebendary of York.
Crown 8vo. p. 6d.
Romanes.— CHRISTIAN PRAYER AND GENERAL
LAWS, being the Burney Prize Essay for 1873. With an Ap
pendix, examining the views of Messrs. Knight, Robertson, Brooke,
Tyndall, and Galton. By George J. Romanes, M.A. Crown
8vo. 5s.
Rowsell.— MAN'S LABOUR AND GOD'S HARVEST,
Sermons preached before the University of Cambridge in Lent,
1861. Fcap. 8vo. 3-r.

26 THEOLOGICAL BOOKS.
Salmon. — THE REIGN OF LAW, and other Sermons,
preached in the Chapel of Trinity College, Dublin. By the Rev.
George Salmon, D.D., Regius Professor of Divinity in the
University of Dublin. Crown 8vo. 6s.
" Well considered, learned, and powerful discourses." — Spectator.
Sanday — THE GOSPELS IN THE SECOND CEN
TURY. An Examination of the Critical part of a Work entitled
"Supernatural Religion." By William Sanday, M.A., late
Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford. Crown 8vo. is. 6d.
"A very important book for the critical side of the question as to the
authenticity of the New Testament, and it is hardly possible to conceive a
writer of greater fairness, candour, and scrupulousness. " — Spectator.
Selborne.— THE BOOK OF PRAISE: From the Best
English Hymn Writers. Selected and arranged by Lord Selborne.
With Vignette by Woolner. i8mo. 4s. 6d.
It has been the Editor's desire and aim to adhere strictly, in all cases in
which it could be ascertained, to the genuine uncorrupted text of the authors
themselves. The names of the authors and date of composition of the
hymns, when known, are affixed, while notes are added to the volume,,
giving further details. The Hymns are arranged according to subjects.
' ' There is not room for two opinions as to the value of the 'Book of Praise. ' "
— Guardian. "Approaches as nearly as one can conceive to perfection."
—Nonconformist. BOOK OF PRAISE HYMNAL. See end of this Catalogue.
Sergeant.— SERMONS. By the Rev. E. W. Sergeant,
M.A., Balliol College, Oxford; Assistant Master at Westminster
College. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d.
Service. — SALVATION HERE AND HEREAFTER.
Sermons and Essays. By the Rev. John Service, Minister of
Inch. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
"We have enjoyed to-day a rare pleasure, having just closed a volume
of sermons which rings true metal from title page to finis, and proves that
another and very powerful recruit has been added to that small band of
ministers of the Gospel who are not only abreast of the religious thought
of their time, but have faith enough and courage enough to handle the
questions which are the most critical, and stir men's minds most deeply,
with frankness and thoroughness. " — Spectator.
Shipley. — A THEORY ABOUT SIN, in relation to some
Facts of Daily Life. Lent Lectures on the Seven Deadly Sins.
By the Rev. Orby Shipley, M.A. Crown 8vo. p. 6d.

THEOLOGICAL BOOKS. 27
"Two things Mr. Shipley, has done, and each of them is of considerable
worth. He has grouped these sins afresh on a philosophic principle 
and he has applied the touchstone to the facts of our moral life. . . so wisely
and so searchingly as to constitute his treatise a powerful antidote to self-
deception. " — Literary Churchman.
Smith.— PROPHECY A PREPARATION FOR CHRIST.
Eight Lectures preached before the University of Oxford, being the
Bampton Lectures for 1869. By R. Payne Smith, D.D., Dean
of Canterbury. Second and Cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
The author's object in these Lectures is to shew that there exists in the
Old Testament an element, which no criticism on naturalistic principles
can either account for or explain away: that element is Prophecy. The
author endeavours to prove that its force does not consist merely in its
predictions. "These Lectures overflow with solid learning. " — Record.
Smith. — CHRISTIAN FAITH. Sermons preached before
the University of Cambridge. By W. Saumarez Smith, M.A.,
Principal of St. Aidan's College, Birkenhead. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d.
Stanley. — Works by the Very Rev. A. P. Stanley, D.D.,
Dean of Westminster.
THE ATHANASIAN CREED, with a Preface on the
General Recommendations of the Ritual Commission. Cr.
8vo. 2S.
"Dr. Stanley puts with admirable force the objections which may be
made to the Creed ; equally admirable, we think, in his statement of its
advantages. " — Spectator.
THE NATIONAL THANKSGIVING. Sermons preached
¦ in Westminster Abbey. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d.
Stewart and Tait.— THE UNSEEN UNIVERSE ; or,
Physical Speculations on a Future State. By Professors Balfour
Stewart and P. G. Tait. Sixth Edition, Revised and Enlarged.
Crown 8vo. 6s.
"A most remarkable and most interesting volume, which, probably
more than any that has appeared in modern times, will affect religious
thought on many momentous questions — insensibly it may be, but very
largely and very beneficially." — Church Quarterly. " This book is one
which well deserves the attention of thoughtful and religious readers  '.
It is a perfectly safe enquiry, on scientific grounds, into the possibilities of
a future existence. " — Guardian.

28 THEOLOGICAL BOOKS.
Swainson.— Works by C. A. Swainson, D.D., Canon of
Chichester : —
THE CREEDS OF THE CHURCH in their Relations to
Holy Scripture and the Conscience of the Christian 8vo. cloth, ox
THE AUTHORITY OF THE NEW TESTAMENT,
and other LECTURES, delivered before the University, of Cam
bridge. 8vo. cloth. 12s.
Taylor.— THE RESTORATION OF BELIEF. New and
Revised Edition. By Isaac Taylor, Esq. Crown 8vo; Ss. 6d.
Temple.— SERMONS PREACHED IN THE CHAPEL
of RUGBY SCHOOL. By F. Temple, D.D., Bishop of Exeter.
New and Cheaper Edition. Extra fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d.
This volume contains Thirty-five Sermons on topics more or less inti
mately connected with every-day life. The following are a few of the
subjects discoursed upon: — "Love and Duty:" "Coming to Christ;"
"Great Men;" "Faith;" "Doubts;" "Scruples;" "Original Sin;"
"Friendship;" "Helping Others;" "The Discipline of Temptation;"
"Strength a Duty;" " Worldliness ;" "III Temper;" "The Burial of
the Past."
A SECOND SERIES OF SERMONS PREACHED IN
THE CHAPEL OF RUGBY SCHOOL. Second Edition.
Extra fcap. 8vo. 6s.
This Second Series of Forty-two brief, pointed, practical Sermons, on
topics intimately connected with the eveiy-day life of young and old, -will be.
acceptable to all who are acquainted with the First Series. The following
are a few of the subjects treated of: — "Disobedience," "Almsgiving,"
"The Unknown Guidance of God," "Apathy one of our Trials," "High '
Aims in Leaders," "Doing our Best," " The Use of Knowledge," "Use.
of Observances," "Martha and Mary," "John the Baptist," "Severity
before Mercy," "Even Mistakes Punished," "Morality and Religion,"
"Children," "Action the Test ol Spiritual Life," "Self-Respect," "Too
Late, " ' ' The Tercentenary. "
A THIRD SERIES OF SERMONS PREACHED IN
RUGBY SCHOOL CHAPEL IN 1867— 1869. Extra fcap.
8vo. 6s.
This third series of Bishop Temple's Rugby Sermons, contains thirty-six
brief discourses, including the " Good-bye" sermon preached on his leaving
Rugby to enter on the office he now holds. ,
Thring. — Works by Rev. Edward Thring, M.A.
SERMONS DELIVERED AT UPPINGHAM SCHOOL.
Crown 8vo. 5s-

THEOLOGICAL BOOKS. 29
THRING (Rev. E.)— continued.
THOUGHTS ON LIFE-SCIENCE. New Edition, en
larged and revised. Crown 8vo. 7.J. 6d.
Tracts for Priests and People. By Various Writers.
The First Series. Crown 8vo. 81.
The Second Series. Crown 8vo. 8s.
The whole Series of Fifteen Tracts may be had separately, price
One Shilling each.
Trench. — Works by R. Chenevix Trench, D.D., Arch
bishop of Dublin.
NOTES ON THE PARABLES OF OUR LORD.
Twelfth Edition. 8vo. 12s.
This work has, taken its place as a standard exposition and interpreta
tion of Christ's Parables. The book is prefaced by an Introductory Essay
in four chapters : — /. On the definition of the Parable. II. On Teach
ing by Parables. III. On the Interpretation of the Parables. IV. On
other Parables besides those in the Scriptures. The author then proceeds
to take up the Parables one by one, and by the aid of philology, history,
antiquities, and the researches of travellers, shews forth the significance,
beauty, and applicability of each, concluding with what he deems its true
moral interpretation. In the numerous Notes are many valuable references,
illustrative quotations, critical and philological annotations, etc. , and ap
pended to the volume is a classified list of fifty-six tvorks on the Parables.
NOTES ON THE MIRACLES OF OUR LORD.
Tenth Edition. 8vo. I2.r.
In the 'Preliminary Essay' to this work, all the momentous and in
teresting questions that have been raised in connection with Miracles, are
discussed with considerable fulness. The Essay consists of six chapters : —
/. On the Names of Miracles, i. e. tlie Greek words by which they are
designated in the New Testament. II. The Miracles and Nature — What
is the difference between a Miracle and any event in the ordinary course
of Nature? III. The Authority of Miracles — Is the Miracle to command
absolute obedience? IV. The Evangelical, compared with the other cycles
of Miracles. V. The Assaults on the Miracles — I. The Jewish. 2. The
Heathen (Celsus etc.). 3. The Pantheistic (Spinosa etc.). 4. The
Sceptical (Hume). 5. The Miracles only relatively miraculous (Schleier-
macher). 6. Tlie Rationalistic (Paulus). 7. The Historico- Critical
(Woolston, Strauss). VI. The Apologetic Worth of the Miracles. The
author then treats the separate Miracles as he does the Parables.
SYNONYMS OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. Eighth
Edition, enlarged. 8vo. cloth. 12s.

30 THEOLOGICAL BOOKS.
TRENCH (Archbishop)— continued.
This Edition has been carefully revised, and a considerable number of
new synonyms added. Appended, is an Index to the Synonyms, and an
Index to many other words alluded to or explained throughout the work.
"He is," the Athenaeum says, "a guide in this department of knowledge
to whom his readers may intrust themselves with confidence. His sober
judgment and sound sense are barriers against the misleading influence of

ON THE AUTHORIZED VERSION OF THE NEW
TESTAMENT. Second Edition. 8vo. p.
After some Introductory Remarks, in which the propriety of a revision
is briefly discussed, the whole question of the merits 'of the present version
is gone into in detail, in eleven chapters. Appended is a chronological list
of works bearing on the subject, an Index of the principal Texts con
sidered, an Index of Greek Words, and an Index of other Words re
ferred to throughout the book.
STUDIES IN THE GOSPELS'. Third Edition. 8vo.
i a?. 6d.
This book is published under the conviction that the assertion often
made is untrue, — viz. that the Gospels are in the main plain and easy,
and that all the chief difficulties of the New Testament are to be found
in the Epistles. These "Studies," sixteen in number, are the fruit of a
much larger scheme, and each Study deals with some important episode >
mentioned in the Gospels, in a critical, philosophical, and practical man
ner. Many references and quotations are added to the Notes. Among
the subjects treated are: — The Temptation; Christ and the Samaritan.
Woman; The Three Aspirants; The Transfiguration; Zacchaus; The
True Vine; The Penitent Malefactor; Christ and the Two Disciples on
the way to Emmaus.
COMMENTARY ON THE EPISTLES to the SEVEN
CHURCHES IN ASIA. Third Edition, revised. 8vo. Zs. 6d.
The present work consists of an Introduction, being a commentary on
Rev. i. 4 — 20, a detailed examination of each of the Seven Epistles, in all
its bearings, and an Excursus on the Historico- Prophetical Interpreta
tion of the Epistles.
THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. An Exposition
drawn from the writings of St. Augustine, with an Essay on his
merits as an Interpreter of Holy Scripture. Third Edition, en
larged. 8vo. \os. 6d.
The first half of the present work consists of a dissertation in eight
chapters on "Augustine as an Interpreter of Scripture," the titles of the
several chapters being as follow : — /. Augustine's General Views of Scrip
ture and its Interpretation. II. The External Helps for the Interpreta
tion of Scripture possessed by Augustine. III. Augustine's Principles

THEOLOGICAL BOOKS. 31

TRENCH (Archbishop)— continued.
and Canons of Interpretation. IV. Augustine's Allegorical Interpretation
of Scripture. V. Illustrations of Augustine's Skill as an Interpreter of
Scripture. VI. Augustine on John the Baptist and on St. Stephen.
VII. Augustine on the Epistle to the Romans. VIII. Miscellaneous
Examples of Augustine's Interpretation of Scripture. The latter half of
the work consists of Augustine's Exposition of the Sermon on the Mount,
not however a mere series of quotations from Augustine, but " connected
account of his sentiments on the various passages of that Sermon, inter
spersed with criticisms by Archbishop Trench.
SHIPWRECKS OF FAITH. Three Sermons preached
before the University of Cambridge in May, 1867. Fcap. 8vo.
2s. 6d.
These Sermons are especially addressed to young men. The subjects
are "Balaam," "Saul," and "Judas Iscariot," These lives are set
forth as beacon-lights, ' ' to warn us off from perilous reefs and quick
sands, which have been the destruction of many, and which might only too
easily be ours." The John Bull says, "they are, like all he writes, af
fectionate and earnest discourses. "
SERMONS Preached for the most part in Ireland. 8vo.
1 or. 6d.
This volume consists of Thirty-two Sermons, the greater part of which
were preached in Ireland ; the subjects are as follow: — Jacob, a Prince
with God and with Men — Agrippa — The Woman that was a Sinner —
Secret Faults — The Seven Worse Spirits — Freedom in the Truth — Joseph
and his Brethren — Bearing one another's Burdens — Christ's Challenge to
the World — The Love of Money — The Salt of the Earth — The Armour of
God — Light in the Lord — The Jailer of Philippi— The Thorn in the Flesh
— Isaiah's Vision — Selfishness — Abraham interceding for Sodom — Vain
Thoughts — Pontius Pilate — The Brazen Serpent — The Death and Burial
of Moses — A Word from the Cross — The Church's Worship in the
Beauty of Holiness — Every Good Gift from Above — On the Hearing of
Prayer — The Kingdom which cometh not with Observation — Pressing
towards the Mark — Saul — The Good Shepherd — The Valley of Dry Bones
— All Saints.
Tudor.— The DECALOGUE VIEWED as the CHRIST
IAN'S LAW. With Special Reference to the Questions and
Wants of the Times. By the Rev. Rich. Tudor, B.A. Crown
8vo. 1 as-. 6d.
' The Guardian says of it, ' 'His volume throughout is an outspoken and
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tions, set forth systematically, and forcibly and plainly expressed — as good
a specimen of what pulpit lectures ought to be as is often to be found."

32 THEOLOGICAL BOOKS.
Tulloch.— THE CHRIST OF THE GOSPELS AND
THE CHRIST OF MODERN CRITICISM. Lectures on
M. Renan's "Vie de Jesus." By John Tulloch, D.D.,
Principal of the College of St. Mary, in the University of St,
Andrew's. Extra fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d.
Vaughan. — Works by Charles J. Vaughan, D.D., Master
of the Temple : —
CHRIST SATISFYING THE INSTINCTS OF HU
MANITY. Eight Lectures delivered in the Temple Church.
Second Edition. Extra fcp. 8vo. 3-r. 6d.
" We are convinced that there are congregations, in number unmistakably
increasing, to whom such Essays as these, full of thought and learning,
are infinitely more beneficial, for they are more acceptable, than the recog
nised type of sermons." — John Bull.
MEMORIALS OF HARROW SUNDAYS. A _ Selection
of Sermons preached in Harrow School Chapel. With a View
of the Chapel. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. 10s. 6d.
' 'Discussing, ' ' says the John Bull, " those forms of evil and impediments
to duty which peculiarly beset the young, Dr. Vaughan has, with singular
tact, blended deep thought and analytical investigation of principles with
interesting earnestness and eloquent simplicity. "
THE BOOK AND THE LIFE, and other Sermons,
preached before the University of Cambridge. Third Edition.
Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d.
TWELVE DISCOURSES on SUBJECTS CONNECTED
WITH THE LITURGY and WORSHIP of the CHURCH
OF ENGLAND. Fcap. 8vo. 6s.
LESSONS OF LIFE AND GODLINESS. A Selection
of Sermons preached in the Parish Church of Doncaster. Fourth
and Cheaper Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6a?.
This volume consists of Nineteen Sermons, mostly on subjects connected
with the every-day walk and conversation of Christians. The Spectator
styles them "earnest and human. They are adapted to every class and
order in the social system, and will be read with wakeful interest by all
who seek to amend whatever may be amiss in their natural disposition
or in their acquired habits. "
WORDS FROM THE GOSPELS. A Second Selection
of Sermons preached in the Parish Church of Doncaster. Third
Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6a?.
The Nonconformist characterises these Sermons as ' ' of practical earnest
ness, of a thoughtfulness that penetrates the common conditions and ex-

THEOLOGICAL BOOKS. 33
VAUGHAN (Dr. C. J.)— continued.
periences of life, and brings the truths and examples of Scripture to bear
on them with singular force, and of a style that owes its real elegance to
the simplicity and directness which have fine culture for their roots."
LESSONS OF THE CROSS AND PASSION. Six
Lectures delivered in Hereford Cathedral during the Week before
Easter, 1869. Fcap. 8vo. 2s.6d.
The titles of the Sermons are : — /. "Too Late" (Matt. xxvi. 4$). II.
" The Divine Sacrifice and the Human Priesthood." III. "Love not the
World." IV. " The Moral Glory of Christ." V. " Chist made perfect
through Suffering." VI. "Death the Remedy of Christ's Loneliness."
LIFE'S WORK AND GOD'S DISCIPLINE. Three
Sermons. Third Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d.
THE WHOLESOME WORDS OF JESUS CHRIST.
Four Sermons preached before the University of Cambridge in
November 1866. Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. cloth. 3.r. 6o?.
Dr. Vaughan uses the word "Wholesome" here in. its literal and
original sense, the, sense in which St. Paul uses it, as meaning healthy,
sound, conducing to right living ; and in these Sermons he points out
and illustrates several of the "wholesome" characteristics of the Gospel,
— the Words of Christ. The John Bull says this volume is " replete with
all the author's well-known vigour of thought and richness of expression. "
FOES OF FAITH. Sermons preached before the Uni
versity of Cambridge in November 1868. Second Edition. Fcap.
8vo. 3^. 6a?.
The "Foes of Faith" preached against in these Four Sermons are: —
/. "Unreality." II. "Indolence." III. "Irreverence." IV. "Incon
sistency." LECTURES ON THE EPISTLE to the PHILIPPIANS.
Third and Cheaper Edition. Extra fcap. 8vo. 5s.
Each Lecture is prefaced by a literal translation from the Greek of
the paragraph which forms its subject, contains first a minute explanation
of the passage on which it is based, and then a practical application of
the verse or clause selected as its text
LECTURES ON THE REVELATION OF ST. JOHN.
Fourth Edition. Two Vols. Extra fcap. 8vo. qs.
In this Edition of these Lectures, the literal translations of the passages
expounded will be found interwoven in the body of the Lectures themselves.
"Dr. Vaughan' s Sermons," the Spectator says, "are the most prac
tical discourses on the Apocalypse with which we are acquainted." Pre
fixed is a Synopsis of the Book of Revelation, and appended is an Index
of passages illustrating the language of the Book.

34 THEOLOGICAL BOOKS.
VAUGHAN (Dr. C. J. .)— continued.
EPIPHANY, LENT, AND EASTER. A Selection of
Expository Sermons. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. ioj. 6d.
THE EPISTLES OF ST. PAUL. For English Readers.
Part I.,' containing the First Epistle to the Thessalonians.
Second Edition. 8vo. is. 6d.
It is the object of this work to enable English readers, unacquainted
with Greek, to enter with intelligence into the meaning, connection, and
phraseology of the writings of the great Apostle.
ST. PAUL'S EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS. The Greek"
Text, with English Notes. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. p. 6a?.
The Guardian says of the work, — "For educated young men his com
mentary seems to fill a gap hitherto unfilled. . . . As a whole,. Dr. Vaughan
appears to us to have given to the world a valuable book of original, and
careful and earnest thought bestowed on the accomplishment of a work
which will be of much service and which is much needed, "
THE CHURCH OF THE FIRST DAYS.,
Series I. The Church of Jerusalem. Third Edition.
" II. The Church of the Gentiles. Third Edition.
"III. The Church of the World. Third Edition.
Fcap. 8vo. cloth. 4s. 6d. each.
The British Quarterly says, — ' ' These Sermons are worthy of all praise,
and are models of pulpit teaching. "
COUNSELS for YOUNG STUDENTS. Three Sermons
preached before the University of Cambridge at the Opening of
the Academical Year 1870-71. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6a?.
The titles of the Three Sermons contained in this volume are: — /.
" The Great Decision." II. "The House and the Builder." III. "The
Prayer and the Counter-Prayer. " They all bear pointedly, earnestly, and
sympathisingly upon the conduct and pursuits of young students and
young men generally.
NOTES FOR LECTURES ON CONFIRMATION,
with suitable Prayers. Tenth Edition. Fcap. 8vo. is. 6d.
THE TWO GREAT TEMPTATIONS. The Tempta
tion of Man, and the Temptation of Christ. Lectures delivered in
the Temple Church, Lent 1872. Second Edition. Extra fcap.
8vo. 3s. 6d.
WORDS FROM THE CROSS : Lent Lectures, 1875 ; and
Thoughts for these Times : University Sermons, 1874. Extra fcp.
8vo. 4s. 6d.

THEOLOGICAL BOOKS. 35
VAUGHAN (Dr. C. J .)— continued.
ADDRESSES TO YOUNG CLERGYMEN, delivered at
Salisbury in September and October, 1875. Extra fcp. 8vo. 4s. 6d.
HEROES OF FAITH : Lectures on Hebrews xi. Extra
fcp. 8vo. 6s,
THE YOUNG LIFE EQUIPPING ITSELF FOR GOD'S
SERVICE : Sermons before the University of Cambridge. Fifth
Edition. Extra fcp. 8vo. 3^. 6d.
THE SOLIDITY OF TRUE RELIGION; and other
Sermons. Second Edition. Extra fcp. 8vo. 3^. 6a'.
FORGET THINE OWN PEOPLE : An Appeal to the
Home Church for Foreign Missions. Extra fcp. 8vo. 3s. 6d.
WORDS OF HOPE from the Pulpit of the Temple Church.
Fourth Edition. Extra fcp. 8vo. $s.
Vaughan.— SOME REASONS OF OUR CHRISTIAN
HOPE. Hulsean Lectures for 1875. By E. T. Vaughan, M.A.,
Rector of Harpenden. Crown 8vo. 6s. 6d.
"His words are those of a well-tried scholar and a sound theologian,
and they will be read widely and valued deeply by an audience far beyond
the range of that which listened to their masterly pleading at Cambridge."
—Standard. Vaughan. — Works by David J. Vaughan, M.A., Vicar of
St. Martin's, Leicester : —
SERMONS PREACHED IN ST. JOHN'S CHURCH,
LEICESTER, during the Years 1855 and 1856. Cr. 8vo. $s. 6d.
CHRISTIAN EVIDENCES AND THE BIBLE. New
Edition, revised and enlarged. Fcap. 8vo. cloth. t,s. 6a?.
Venn.— ON SOME OF THE CHARACTERISTICS OF
BELIEF, Scientific and Religious. Being the Hulsean Lectures
for 1869. By the Rev. J. Venn, M.A. 8vo. 6s. 6d.
These discourses are intended to illustrate, explain, ¦ and work out into
some of their consequences, certain characteristics by which the attainment of
religious belief is prominently distinguished from the attainment of belief
upon most other subjects.
Warington.— THE WEEK OF CREATION ; or, The
Cosmogony of Genesis considered in its Relation to Modern Sci-

36 THEOLOGICAL BOOKS.
ence. By George Warington, Author of "The Historic
Character of the Pentateuch Vindicated. " Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d.
"A very able vindication of the Mosaic Cosmogony by a writer who
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distinguished scientific attainments." — Spectator.
Westcott. — Works by Brooke Foss Westcott, D.D.,
Regius Professor of Divinity in the University of Cambridge;
Canon of Peterborough : —
¦\. The London Quarterly , speaking of Mr. Westcott, says, — "fb a learn
ing and accuracy which command respect and confidence, he unites what
are not always to be found in union with these qualities, the no less valuable
faculties of lucid arrangement and graceful and facile expression."
AN INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF THE
GOSPELS. Fifth Edition. Crown 8vo. ior. 6a?.
The author's chief object in this work has been to shew that there is
a true mean between the idea of a formal harmonization of the Gospels
and the abandonment of their, absolute truth. After an Introduction. on
the Genei-al Effects of the course of Modern Philosophy on the popular
views of Christianity, he proceeds to determine in what way the principles
therein indicated may be applied to the study of the Gospels.
A GENERAL SURVEY OF THE HISTORY OF THE
CANON OF THE NEW TESTAMENT during the First Four
Centuries. Fourth Edition, revised, with a Preface on "Super
natural Religion." Crown 8vo. ioj. 6a'.
The object of this treatise is to deal with the New Testament as a whole,
and that on purely historical grounds. The separate books of which it is
composed are considered not individually, but as claiming to be parts of the
apostolic heritage of Christians. The Author has thus endeavoured to con
nect the history of the New Testament Canon with the growth and con
solidation of the Catholic Church, and to point out the relation existing
between the amount of evidence for the authenticity of its component parts
and the whole mass of Christian literature. "The treatise," says the
British Quarterly, "is a scholarly performance, learned, dispassionate,
discriminating, worthy of his subject and of the present state of Christian
literature in relation to it. "
THE BIBLE IN THE CHURCH. A Popular Account
of the Collection and Reception of the Holy Scriptures in the
Christian Churches. Sixth Edition. i8mo. 4s. 6d.
A GENERAL VIEW OF THE HISTORY OF THE
ENGLISH BIBLE. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. ioj. 6aT.
The Pall Mall Gazette calls the work "A brief, scholarly, and, to a
great extent, an original contribution to theological literature."

THEOLOGICAL BOOKS. 37
WESTCOTT (Dr.)— continued.
THE CHRISTIAN LIFE, MANIFOLD AND ONE.
Six Sermons preached in Peterborough Cathedral. Crown 8vo.
2s. 6d.
The Six Sermons contained in this volume are the first preached by
the author as a Canon of Peterborough Cathedral. The subjects are: —
/. "Life consecrated by the Ascension." II. "Many Gifts, One Spirit."
III. "The Gospel of the Resurrection." IV. "Sufficiency of God." V.
"Action the Test of Faith." VI. " Progress from the Confession of God."
THE GOSPEL OF THE RESURRECTION. Thoughts
on its Relation to Reason and History. Third Edition, enlarged,
Crown 8vo. 6s.
The present Essay is an endeavour to consider some of the elementary
truths of Christianity, as a miraculous Revelation, from the side of History
and Reason. The author endeavours to shew that a devout belief in the
Life of Christ is quite compatible with a broad view of the course of human
progress and a frank trust in the laws of our own minds. In the third
edition the author has carefully reconsidered the whole argument, and by
.. the help of several kind critics has been enabled to correct some faults and
to remove some ambiguities, which had been overlooked before.
ON THE RELIGIOUS OFFICE OF THE UNIVER
SITIES. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6a?.
" There is certainly, no man of our time — no man at- least who has ob
tained the command of the public ear — whose utterances can compare with
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grasp  There is wisdom, and truth, and thought enough, and a
harmony and mutual connection running through them all, which makes
the collection .of more real value than many an ambitious treatise." —
Literary Churchman.
Wilkins.— THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. An Essay,
by A. S. Wilkins, M.A., Professor of Latin in Owens College,
Manchester. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6a?.
"It would be difficult to 'praise too highly the spirit, the burden, the
conclusions, or the, scholarly finish of this beautiful Essay." — British Quar
terly Review.
Wilson.— THE BIBLE STUDENT'S GUIDE TO THE
MORE CORRECT UNDERSTANDING of the ENGLISH
TRANSLATION OF THE OLD TESTAMENT, by Reference
1 to the Original Hebrew. By William Wilson, D.D., Canon of
Winchester. Second Edition, carefully revised. 4to. 25J.
" The author believes that the present work is the nearest approach to
a complete Concordance of every word in the original that has yet been

38 THEOLOGICAL BOOKS.
made: and as a Concordance, it may be found of great use to the Bible
student, while at tke same time it serves the important object of furnishing
the means of comparing synonymous words, and. of eliciting their precise
and distinctive meaning. The knowledge of the Hebrew language is not
absolutely necessary to the profitable use of the work. The plan of the
work is simple : every Word occurring in the English Version is arranged
alphabetically, and under it is given the Hebrew word or words, with a
full explanation of their meaning, of which it is meant to be a translation,
and a complete list of the passages where it occurs. Following the general
work is a complete Hebrew and English Index, which is, in effect, a
Hebrew-English Dictionary.
Worship (The) of God and Fellowship among
Men. Sermons on Public Worship. By Professor Maurice,
and others. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6a".
Yonge (Charlotte M.) — Works by Charlotte M. Yonge,
Author of " The Heir of Redclyffe :"
SCRIPTURE READINGS FOR SCHOOLS AND FA
MILIES. Globe 8vo. is. 6d. With Comments, 3^. 6a?.
Second Series. From Joshua to Solomon. Extra fcap. 8vo.
is. 6a?. With Comments, 3s. 6d.
Third Series. The Kings and Prophets. Extra fcap. 8vo.
" is. 6d. With Comments, 3s. 6d.
Fourth Series. The Gospel Times. Extra fcap. 8vo. is. 6d.
With Comments, 3^. 6ov
Actual need has led the author to endeavour to prepare a reading book
convenient for study with children, containing the very words of the
Bible, with only a few expedient omissions, and arranged in Lessons of
such length as by experience she has found to suit with children 's ordinary
power of accurate attentive interest. The verse form has been retained be
cause of its convenience for children reading in class, and as more re-
simblirig their Bibles ; but (he poetical portions have been given in their
lines. Professor Huxley at a meeting of the London School-board, par
ticularly mentioned the Selection made by Miss Yonge, as an example oj
how selections might be made for School reading. "Her Comments are
models of their kind." — Literary Churchman.
THE PUPILS OF ST. JOHN THE DIVINE. New
Edition. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d.
" Young and old will be equally refreshed and taught by these pages,
in which nothing is dull, and nothing is far-fetched. " — Churchman.
PIONEERS AND FOUNDERS ; or, Recent Workers in
the Mission Field. With Frontispiece and Vignette Portrait of
Bishop Heber. Crown 8 vo. 4s. 6d.

THEOLOGICAL BOOKS. 39
The missionaries whose biographies are here given, are — John Eliot,
the Apostle of the Red Indians ; David Brainerd, the Enthusiast ; Christ
ian F. Schwartz, the Councillor of Tanjore; Henry Martyn, the Scholar-
Missionary; William Carey and Joshua Marshman, the Serampore Mis
sionaries; the Judson Family; the Bishops of Calcutta, — Thomas
Middleton, Reginald Heber, Daniel Wilson; Samuel Marsden, the Aus
tralian Chaplain and Friend of the Maori; John Williams, the Martyr
of Erromango; Allen Gardener, the Sailor Martyr; Charles Frederick
Mackenzie, the Martyr of Zambesi.

THE "BOOK OF PRAISE" HYMNAL,
compiled and arranged by
LORD SELBORNE.
In 'the following four forms : —
A. Beautifully printed in Royal 32mo., limp cloth, price 6d.
B. ,, ,, Small 18mo., larger type, cloth limp, Is.
C. Same edition on fine paper, cloth, Is. 6d.
Also an edition with Music , selected, harmonized, and composed
by JOHN HULLAH, in square 18mo., cloth, 3s. 6d.
The large acceptance which has been given to " The Book of Praise"
by all classes of Christian people encourages the Publishers in entertaining
the hope that this Hymnal, which is mainly selected from it, may be ex
tensively used in Congregations, and in some .degree at least meet the
desires of those who seek uniformity in common worship as a means
towards that unity which pious souls yearn after, and which our Lord
prayed for in behalf of his Church. "The office of a hymn is not to
teach controversial Theology, but to give the voice of song to practical
religion. No doubt, to do this, it must embody sound doctrine ; but it
ought to do so, not after the manner of the schools, but with the breadth,
freedom, and simplicity of the Fountain-head. " On this principle has
Sir R. Palmer proceeded in the preparation of this book.
The arrangement adopted is the following : —
Part I. consists of Hymns arranged according to the subjects of the
Creed  "God the Creator," "Christ Incarnate," "Christ Crucified,"
"Christ Risen," "Christ Ascended," "Christ's Kingdom and Judg
ment," etc.
Part II. comprises Hymns arranged according to the subjects of the
Lord's Prayer.
Part III. Hymns for natural and sacred seasons.
There are 320 Hytnns in all.

CAMBRIDGE :— PRINTED BY J. PALMER.

MACMILLAN & CO.
BEDFORD* STREET, STRAND, LONDON.

YALE UNIVERSITY

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