Part 2

Later, in the days of King Arthur, the vision of the cup returned again. It was a memorable day. The seat at the Round Table, the "Siege Perilous," left ever empty for the coming of one who should, be worthy to sit therein, was filled at last by the young and fair and pure Sir Galahad, brought thither by the "ancient clothed in white." He was clad in white armour, with no sword or shield save only an empty scabbard hanging by his side. Thereupon the second marvel of that day took place. The fair sword, stuck fast in the great stone of red marble, which no other Knight had been able to move, was lightly and easily drawn by Sir Galahad, who said as he took it, "For the surety of this sword I brought none with me; for here by my side hangeth the scabbard." That same evening, after even-song in the great minster at Camelot, they were all at supper in Arthur's Hall. "And all at once," runs the old legend, retold in Tennyson's verse,

"And all at once, as there we sat, we heard A cracking and a riving of the roofs, And rending, and a blast, and overhead Thunder, and in the thunder was a cry. And in the blast there smote along the hall A beam of light seven times more clear than day. And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail All over cover'd with a luminous cloud, And none might see who bare it, and it past. But every Knight beheld his fellow's face As in a glory, and all the Knights arose...."

All saw the light, and heard the sounds, but Sir Galahad alone had sight of the Grail itself. Whereupon all the rest took solemn vows to ride a twelvemonth and a day in quest of it. And the legend goes on to tell how they fared and what adventures they had in their quest.

It is a beautiful and significant story. G.F. Watts, the artist, caught the spirit of it in his well-known picture of Sir Galahad standing by his white horse, with purity of vision and strength of high resolve written on every line of his uplifted face. Both legend and picture seem to catch and illumine an idea that was fundamental in the whole conception of Knighthood, the idea that the true Knight must be pure in heart. Sir Galahad stands forth as the type and embodiment of strong and pure manhood.

Sermons on sin and exhortations to holiness may leave us cold, but this Knightly ideal carries an appeal that is permanent and powerful; it cannot fail to find some response in the heart of anyone who is a real man. For the point is that Sir Galahad, with all his purity, was no milksop, no untempted saint; he was uncommonly strong in the right arm, as other men found to their cost. But there was, and is always, a deep-down connexion between what a man is and what he does. A man's whole life is the product and expression of the real quality of the hidden self. The nature of the tree determines the fruit. The question of purity has its roots in these secret places of a man's being that lie hid from any human eye. "There is nothing," insisted Christ, "from without a man that entering into him can defile him, but the things which come out of him, from within, out of the heart ... those are they that defile the man."[1]

[1] St. Mark vii. 15, 21.

Psychologists tell us that below the level of our conscious thought there are large subterranean places where the things we hear and read and think about are being stored up. The things that come up to the surface, whether we produce them voluntarily--'remember' them, or whether they come up unbidden when our upper minds are empty and receptive, naturally are of the stock that is stored below. What sort of stock are you accumulating in your mental underground? What sort of pictures hang in the most private galleries of your mind? What kind of thoughts come floating up from those mysterious depths, and what are the thoughts that you most enjoy thinking? There is many a man who is often visited by thoughts that he would rather be without; they seem to catch on to some part of him that has a sneaking liking for them, and he cannot dislodge these unwelcome guests. He is almost conscious of a sort of dual personality: part of him wants what is clean and good, but the rest of him seems a very odd mixture which he is powerless to regulate or alter. He feels that he would make a better affair of life if only all the parts of him would push together in the right direction. Is there any way of achieving such a state of affairs? I know of no other certain way but one. There is only one power I ever heard of that could plumb the depths of a human soul and transform the quality of all the stuff that lies down there, and clean out all the refuse, and stiffen the dethroned will and put it back in its place of power--and that is the "Spirit" of Jesus Christ. It is said of the great John Nicholson, that wonderful leader of men, that, however desperate the circumstances, his presence could put new heart into a whole camp. It is just that, with yet deeper result, that Christ does for those who trust Him. He told His followers that if they would open their hearts to receive Him, He would give them His Spirit; by which He meant that, inspired by His influence, they would actually become like Him, and think His thoughts, and will His will, and live the kind of life He lived. What He said would happen _does happen_; and not just "Saints" but ordinary people find that _He_ can make them true and pure in a way that nothing else can.

"Spirit of purity and grace. Our weakness pitying see; Oh make our hearts Thy dwelling place And worthier Thee."

Those words contain not a beautiful aspiration but a literal possibility.

Once a man begins to make this great discovery, all sorts of results ensue. Lost things are found again, among them that happy, guileless certainty of God which is childhood's heritage and which so often slips away when men grow older. Life gets crowded and men lose sight of God; some men even think He is not there because they have lost the knack of looking for Him. If you cannot see properly through a telescope it is rash to conclude that the object you are looking for is not there; it would be better to clean the lens. It is not God who deserts us; it is we who, blinded by sin, miss Him. "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." Here again it is not the "Saints" only who are gifted with this capacity for spiritual vision. It is the birthright of every man and woman born into the world. The path of purity is a right of way, and the place of vision has no fences round it; all who will may enter there, and there is none to forbid them but themselves. I believe there are numbers of men who have a dim consciousness of these great possibilities but who, from one cause or another, have never really begun to explore them. The one thing needful, for many a man, is simply that he should _give his soul a chance_. Early in the War there was killed in France at the age of twenty, a man of brilliant endowments and high promise--Charles Sorley, of Marlborough and University College, Oxford. A few months before his death he wrote these lines, which put into winged words this haunting sense of unexplored spiritual possibilities,--

"From morn to midnight, all day through, I laugh and play as others do, I sin and chatter just the same As others with a different name.

And all year long upon the stage I dance and tumble and do rage So vehemently, I scarcely see The inner and eternal me.

I have a temple I do not Visit, a heart I have forgot, A self that I have never met, A secret shrine--and yet, and yet

This sanctuary of my soul Unwitting I keep white and whole, Unlatched and lit, if Thou should'st care To enter or to tarry there.

With parted lips and outstretched hands And listening ears Thy servant stands; Call Thou early, call Thou late, To Thy great service dedicate."

The War is creating a hunger for reality, and above all for spiritual reality. "Break me, O God, destroy me if you will, but save me from self-complacency and little interests and little successes and the life that passes as the shadows of a dream."

If purity is the condition of vision, it is also the secret of strength.

"My strength is as the strength of ten Because my heart is pure."

Sir Galahad had made the discovery which true men always make. Sin is a source of weakness. Purity is a fount of strength. Unclean men are never conquerors--they have lost the first and most important of battles, that with themselves. It was not for nothing that Lord Kitchener emphasized the supreme importance of self control in his famous letter to the troops at the beginning of the War. "Success in War," says the Field Service Regulations, "depends more on the moral than on the physical qualities." Foremost among moral forces is that wonderful thing, all powerful though difficult to define, which men call _discipline_. Of the many qualities which make up discipline, there is one of unrivalled importance, which it partly evokes and partly creates, and that is self-control. It is of the essence of discipline that a man should learn entirely to subordinate his own wish or pleasure or safety to a larger common purpose. Standing in the ranks he must control the desire to move his head or fidget with his hands. In the face of the enemy he must control his desire to run away. At all times and in all places he must control his desire to consult his own comfort or convenience. Such self-control involves a considerable measure of moral strength. Will a man be strong here, where strength is so needed, if all the while he is gravely weak in the region of his inner life? Is it likely that he will be able to inspire others with cheerful fortitude in face of hardships and death if the very source is fouled whence his own strength must be drawn?

With all possible emphasis I would press this point upon you, that there is a vital connexion between purity and moral strength. And I urge it, not simply for your own sakes, but even more because of what you may be and do for others. "For their sakes I consecrate myself." The motive of that one perfect life is the only adequate motive for us who try to be His followers. How can I serve others, if my own soul is shackled in iron bonds? How can I fight for righteousness, in this War or in the Greater War, if in my own heart and life I have secret dealings with the enemy?

The Knights of Christ are men who have no use for dirt of any kind. "And I beheld a white horse, and He that sat upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness He doth judge and make War ... and the armies which were in heaven followed Him upon white horses, clothed in fine linen, white and clean."[2] There is nothing so unclean but that Christ can cleanse it; and to all who would be His Warriors He can, and He does, give the white armour which they must have. Here is the greatest soldiering of all. It is worth the struggle to be a better man, it is worth the effort of faith which will let Him re-make your life, if thereby you may be fit to take your place in His Army and go after Him as He rides forth to conquer in the Holy War.

[2] Revelation xix. 11, 14.

*LOYALTY*

"Not every one that saith unto Me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the Kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of My Father which is in heaven."--ST. MATTHEW vii. 21.

"Be Thou the King, and we will work Thy will Who Love Thee."--TENNYSON.

"Jesus shall reign where'er the sun Does his successive journeys run; His Kingdom stretch from shore to shore, Till moons shall wax and wane no more."--ISAAC WATTS.

*V*

*LOYALTY*

The Coronation Service of His Majesty King George V. is still a comparatively recent event. The whole ceremony is, as many will remember, full of beautiful symbolism. One of the most moving and dramatic moments is that when, after the King has been crowned, his chief subjects come forward to kneel down and do him homage. One after another the Archbishops, the Princes of the Blood Royal and the Peers of the Realm, kneel down, putting off their coronets, and pronounce the words of homage: "I do become your liege man of life and limb, and of earthly worship; and faith and truth I will bear unto you, to live and die, against all manner of folks. So help me God." And then, proceeds the rubric, "the Peers having done their Homage, the first of each Order, putting off his coronet, shall singly ascend the throne, and stretching forth his hand, touch the Crown on His Majesty's head, as promising by that ceremony for himself and his Order to be ever ready to support it with all their power; and then shall he kiss the King's cheek." This sense of owing loyal service to a King is an immemorial instinct in men. And it is a deep-rooted tradition that those who are his "Knights" are bound to him in the closest ties of honourable obligation. In the earliest centuries of our national history the King used to have his "war band," bound personally to him by their free choice, and sworn to fight for him to the death. He was their "lord," they his "thegns."

Most of us call ourselves "Christians." Have you realized that to be a Christian, in the true sense of the word, means nothing less than that you are Christ's "liege man of life and limb," and that you are utterly committed "faith and truth to bear unto Him, to live and die, against all manner of folks?" This personal devotion to the living Christ is the most central thing in Christianity. If a man is going to be a real Christian it will mean more than just assenting to the Creed, and going to Church, and "feeling religious" at favourable moments. It will mean entering into a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and letting Him be in command, not on specified occasions, but every day and all the time. The difficulty with many people is that Christianity only touches the circumference of their existence and never seems to get established right at the centre of heart and life. It simply makes the whole difference when once you discover that Jesus Christ is a real Person Who, on His side, is interested in you and loves to help you and go about with you, and Whom you, on your side, can talk to and lean on and, gradually, begin to love. It is always in this personal way that God in Christ offers Himself to men. He is the Redeemer Who will release you from the iron bonds of sin, the Friend Who will stand by your side, the King Who would have your loyal service. And, in order to break for good and all the power of sin and death, and that He might found His Kingdom on the free loyalty of love, _He died_.... It is a common thing for men to lay down their lives for king and country; but here is a King dying for His subjects. Have you ever tried to realize what _sin_ means? It must mean at least this: that when you and I do wrong we are doing something that hurts God, something that inevitably puts a barrier between Him and us. And is it not premature to speak of love and loyalty to Him as long as that barrier is there? Now, however amazing it may seem, there has proved to be no other way but one in which that barrier could be utterly and finally broken down--and God chose that way, the way of the Cross. Deliberately, gladly, the Son of God _died_. That which is a lasting puzzle to theologians and philosophers, is just sheer good tidings, and tidings found to be true, to ordinary people who are hungry in soul. I always think that at once the simplest and profoundest statement of the meaning of the death of Christ is that contained in the old children's hymn:

"He died that we might be forgiven, He died to make us good; That we might go at last to heaven, Saved by His precious blood."

Can we withhold our loyalty from Him Who stands before us, not only as a King demanding our rightful allegiance, but as One Who loves us so much that He died for us?

"Were the whole realm of Nature mine, That were an offering far too small; Love so amazing, so Divine Demands my soul, my life, my all.

Once you get fairly hold of this idea of Christianity being largely a matter of personal loyalty to Jesus Christ, then your "religion" will begin to become alive in all sorts of unsuspected ways. Prayer will cease to be a more or less formal duty which you hardly like to give up, and will become instead a real intercourse with God which you find you cannot do without. The Bible, too, will no longer be, what it too often is, a mere adjunct of conventional religion, but will become instead a living book, a book which makes you see, as nothing else can, the mind and character and purposes of the King you are trying to serve. Public worship will be a pleasure instead of a bore, because you have discovered its point and meaning. And the Holy Communion, instead of being either a religious "extra" beyond your reach or else an occasional effort out of touch with your ordinary life, will take its place as an indispensable means of bringing new life to your soul, as a wonderful pledge of His amazing love and of all that you long to give Him in response.

Now there are two things which this loyalty to the King of Kings will necessarily involve. To be loyal to Him will mean being loyal to the Christian Brotherhood and loyal to the Christian Cause. Loyalty to a brotherhood is a thing that should come naturally to a soldier, or indeed to anyone who has imbibed the highest traditions of our Public Schools and Universities and Services. "Comradeship," says a soldier who ought to know, "Comradeship is the saving characteristic of the British Army." A man has learnt one of the greatest lessons of life when he realizes that the honour of the Regiment is of far greater moment than his own personal success, than his life even. As a senior subaltern said to a junior brother officer, when giving him some homely advice on the day that he passed his recruits' drills and was finally "off the square":--"All that you've got to remember is that it's the Regiment which counts; and you've got to make yourself a credit to it."[1] Again and again in this war it has been shown what a wonderful force there is in this Regimental _esprit de corps_. There can be no doubt--to cite one instance only--that this spirit, this tradition, was a vital factor in the glorious achievements of the immortal 29th Division at Gallipoli.

[1] "The Making of an Officer." _The Times_, June 8, 1916.

"It's the Regiment which counts." The Christian Church could do with more of this spirit of mutual loyalty. We are "members one of another," urged St. Paul; and yet how little there is of real brotherliness among us Christians! When we find a man is a fellow-Christian, whatever his social position may be, we ought to have that kind of feeling towards him that we should have if he had been at our school, or belonged to our Regiment. There is no free-masonry like that which links together those who have a common love for Jesus Christ and a common interest in His purposes. Moreover, this sense of being one of a great Brotherhood is a spiritual safeguard and incentive. When you and I fail, it is not just our own Christianity that suffers: we are "letting down" the whole Brotherhood, we are lowering great and immemorial traditions, we are proving unworthy of the unnumbered multitude of Christian heroes who, in every generation, have fought the good light of faith. "_Therefore_, surrounded as we are by such a vast cloud of witnesses let us fling aside every encumbrance and the sin that so readily entangles our feet, and let us run with patient endurance the race that lies before us, fixing our gaze on Jesus our Prince Leader in the Faith."[2]

[2] Hebrews xii 1, 2. _Weymouth's_ Version.

Any genuine loyalty to our "Prince Leader" carries with it, of necessity, loyalty to His Cause. I have said something, in a previous Chapter, about the call to Christians to do some fighting in the real Holy War. I would urge, once more, that the true Knight of Christ cannot do less than place himself, and all that he has, at the disposal of his Master's Cause.

"A Christian," says a recent writer, "is one who believes in _and supports_ the claim of Christ to universal Sovereignty." Christ needs men who will spend themselves in His Cause with the same splendid devotion that men show when they are fighting for their country. In the recent advance,[3] as the Newfoundland Regiment was pushing along through a storm of lead, a corporal turned to the man by his side and said, "If I go down you take charge and go straight ahead." A minute afterwards a bullet hit him in the chest and he dropped. The man he had spoken to tried to lift him up, but he was done for, and his last words were "Push on with it."

[3] July, 1916.

Those words might serve as a motto for all those who are beginning to see that the greatest Enterprise of all, and one most worth serving, is that of extending the Kingdom of God over the face of the whole earth. The time is ripe indeed for a general Christian offensive. The war has laid bare, as never before, the moral need of the world, and now is the opportunity to begin afresh the task of giving men Christianity, and to "_push on with it_." It is to a mighty Adventure, with big risks and great sacrifices, that Christ is calling us; and that is the kind of call that a real man always loves to hear. At the supreme crisis of his fortunes, after the capitulation of Rome, Garibaldi, the Saviour of Italy, called for volunteers to go after him. "I am going out from Rome," he cried; "I offer neither quarters, nor provisions, nor wages. I offer hunger, thirst, forced marches, battles, death. Let him who loves his country with his heart, not with his lips only, follow me." And men streamed out after him into the hills. That is the spirit in which Christ summons men to serve _His_ Cause. "If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his Cross daily, and follow Me." And the curious thing is that when men at last cut loose from a snug religion and fling themselves with a certain recklessness into the service of Christ and His Kingdom, then they begin to taste the real joy of life. As at a Coronation, as soon as the homage is accomplished, the trumpets blow. When a man, at whatever cost, "does his bit" in a mighty enterprise, then he begins to enjoy "the top of the fulness of life." In one of the battles of history, when in an advance a soldier was mortally wounded, a comrade bent over him and cheered him with the tidings, "They have taken the position: the flag is planted on it." A film was on the eyes of the dying man, and he could see nothing; but with a smile on his face he murmured, "I helped to put it there." Will you and I be able to say that when the flag of the triumphant Christ is unfurled in His final victory?

"And the King sat Crown'd on the dais, and his warriors cried, 'Be Thou the King, and we will work Thy will Who love Thee.'"

Have you taken these vows? Christ the King would have your services and make you His Knight. He _wants_ you, for Himself and for His Cause. To be wanted by Jesus Christ--who can hold back from a call such as that?

"He hath sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat, He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment-seat; Oh! be swift, my soul, to answer Him, be jubilant, my feet: Our God is marching on!"

*A PRAYER OF S. RICHARD OF CHICHESTER 1240 A.D.*