Chapter 4

Thus, in one sense, every man must stand alone, and yet the Christian man knows that he is a child of God, and that his Father will never forsake him. Every one of us must _labour alone_ in the great workshop of the world. Each of us has his corner where God has placed him to weave in his little bit of the pattern of this world's history, to add his little portion of colour to the picture called Life. For each of us there is the day's work, wherein we can labour, or idle, as we choose, and for each there comes the night when no man can work. And what we have to do we must do _alone_. The majority of men who live the life of duty do so unnoticed and uncared for. They are like those stars which our eyes never see, but they shine all the same. Such men work and suffer, and wait till their time comes to join

"The crowd untold of men, By the cause they served unknown, Who moulder in myriad graves of old, Never a story, never a stone."

But such men have the comfort of knowing that they have not run in vain, neither laboured in vain; they have lived unto God in this world, and if solitary, they have been alone with God. Again, _we must all suffer alone_. However kind and sympathetic our friends may be, they cannot enter into our pains and agonies. They can be sorry for us, but they cannot feel as we feel. When the body is racked by severe pangs of suffering, even the presence of friends is too much for us. We want to be alone, _alone with God_. And this is specially true of the sorrows of the mind. "The heart knoweth its own bitterness." No one, not even our nearest and dearest, can go with us to the Gethsemane, where we suffer, or the Calvary, where we endure our cross. But it is in these hours of bitterest suffering that the Christian feels that he is not forsaken. He remembers that his Master, Jesus, trod the winepress of sorrow alone, and that of the people there was none with Him. He knows that he is permitted to walk the same lonely path as Jesus trod before him. He knows that as he kneels in the darkened room with his solitary sorrow, with his breaking heart, with his sinful soul bowed down in penitence, that Jesus is with him--he is alone with God. And again, _we must all die alone_. The moment of death is the most solitary of all our life. The Prince, with his armies, and crowds of friends and courtiers, is, at his death, as much alone as the beggar who drops and dies by the roadside. Loving hands may clasp ours fondly, but we must let them go. Husband, mother, wife, or child may cling to us in close embrace, but they cannot detain us, or go with us, we must die alone. And yet in that most solitary moment the Christian who is dead unto sin, and living unto God, knows that he is not alone. He knows that when he has heard the sound of the last voice on earth, he shall hearken to other voices, never listened to before. When the last farewell is spoken, and the last hand clasped on earth, there will come the meeting with a new and glorious company, and the touch of those dear Hands once wounded for our transgressions. Be sure that God, who is with us in life, is specially with us in the moment of death; we die alone, but we are alone with God. My brothers, we are tempted sometimes to murmur because our life and its work are dull, monotonous and solitary. Let this thought help us to check the rebellious sigh, the thought that if we are trying to do our duty, God is with us, and He that seeth in secret, shall Himself reward us openly. We may be tempted to cry sometimes in our darkest hours, "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me;" but the loving Hand has not gone from us, though we cannot feel its touch. Those dark hours often bring out the light of Christ's great love most clearly. I have seen a famous picture of the Crucifixion, which shows its sad beauty best when the window is darkened. Then there seems to shine a light of hope and splendour behind the Cross, and the face of the Saviour beams with tenderest love. So when the windows of our life are darkened, when bereavement, or ill-health, or disappointment come upon us, let us turn our eyes to the Crucified, and see a new light, a new meaning in our Saviour's sorrow, and our own. Let us learn that the trouble has come to lead us apart from the world and its selfish ways, that we may be alone--alone with God.

SERMON XLII.

SERVANTS OF SIN.

(Seventh Sunday after Trinity.)

ROMANS vi. 20.

"The servants of sin."

There is no existence in the world so sad as that of a slave; and there is no slavery so hard as that of sin, no taskmaster so bitter as the devil. There was a tyrant in the old times who ordered one of his subjects to make an iron chain of a certain length, in a given time. The man brought the work, and the tyrant bade him make it longer still. And he continued to add link to link, till at length the cruel taskmaster ordered his servants to bind the worker with his own chain, and cast him into the fire. That hardest of tyrants, the devil, treats his slaves in like manner. At first the chain of sin is light, and could easily be cast off. But day by day Satan bids his victims add another link. The servant of sin grows more hardened, more daring, more reckless in his evil way. He adds sin to sin, link to link, and then the end comes, and the tyrant binds him hand and foot with his own chain, and casts him into outer darkness, where there is weeping, and gnashing of teeth. Very often the slaves of sin do not know that they _are_ slaves. They talk about their freedom from restraint, they tell us they are their own masters, they would have us believe that the godly, who try to keep the commandments, and walk in the narrow way, are slaves, but _they_ are free! Oh! fools, and slow of heart! As well might a prisoner cover his irons with a cloak, and try to pass as a free man. We can _hear the clank of the chains_. So is it with the slave of sin. Once I visited a madhouse, and talked with some of the poor patients. Some had one delusion, some another. One thought he was a king, another fancied himself the heir to a fortune. But one thing they all believed, that they were in their right minds.

My brothers, the slaves of sin are like these poor mad folk, they do not understand that what they call freedom is slavery, that what they style pleasure is misery, that instead of being the clever, reckless, free people they think themselves, they are only mad people possessed of the devil. First, then, we have seen that the servants of sin do not know that they are slaves. The tyrant, Satan, blinds their eyes before he binds them in the fetters of his prison house, even as the Philistines blinded the strong man of old. Next, the servants of sin bear about the marks of their master I have seen gangs of convicts working on Dartmoor. You could not mistake them for anything else if they were dressed in the best of clothing. The word _convict_ is stamped upon every grey face, as plainly as the Government mark is stamped upon their clothing. The servants of sin have their marks also. Look at the shifty eyes, and downward glance of the knave and the false man; mark the flushed brow and cruel eyes of the angry man; see the weak lips and trembling hand of the drunkard; they bear the marks of their slavery very plainly. So, too, the sensualist who lives for his body, the impure man, the slave of lust, the criminal, haunted by a guilty secret, the selfish worldling, who cares only for this life; these all bear the traces of their sin upon them, these show whose they are, and whom they serve. Again, the servants of sin have their so-called enjoyments, these are the baits with which the tyrant gets them into his power. For a time the way of transgressors is made easy and pleasant. The broad road is shaded, and edged with fair fruits and flowers. The down-hill path is strewn with glittering jewels, the booths of vanity fair are fitted with all manner of delights, and the poor slave goes on, scarce feeling his chains, or knowing of his slavery, till the day of reckoning comes. "There is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death." A saint of old once saw a man leading a herd of swine, which followed him willingly. The saint asked whither he was taking them, and he answered, to the slaughter. When the saint marvelled that the swine should go so readily to their death, the man showed him that they followed him for the sake of the sweet food in his hand, and knew not whither they were going. My brothers, the servants of sin follow Satan for the sake of the sweet things which he offers, and know not that they are going to their death, even the living death of a lost soul. Some of you remember the old German legend of doctor Faustus. It is a terrible parable of the fate of all those who become the slave of sin. Faustus is represented as a man of great learning, who used his knowledge for evil instead of good. Being filled with pride, he refused to bow down to God, and made a bargain with Satan that he was to have his own way, and every wish gratified for a certain term of years, and then he was to pay the price--his own soul. During those years he had all the health and strength of youth, he enjoyed all the pleasures of the body, the world, the flesh, and the devil were his servants. But one thing he lacked, he had not God, and so he had no hope. There were times when he thought of the horrible bargain which he had made. He desired to see Paradise and Hell, and he was shown a glimpse of both. His servants found him in deep sorrow, and asked him what he had seen, and what the sorrows of Hell were like. But he answered that he remembered not, one thing only he recalled, the peace and beauty of that Paradise which he had forfeited for ever. This is the story of every slave of sin.

My brothers, there are many who have bargained with Satan, offering the price of their own souls. When the Tempter came to the Saviour in the wilderness, he offered Him the glory and splendour of the world if Jesus would fall down and worship him. It is the same with us. Satan offers us this world instead of the world to come. He offers us our own way, so dear to all of us. He offers us the pleasures of the body, "let us eat and drink." He offers us self-indulgence in all the lusts of the flesh. He offers us all the flash and glitter of the world, but he does not let us see the foulness and rottenness which they cover. To the man of science he comes, as to Faustus in the legend, and tries to induce him to set up his knowledge against the All-wise, and to drive God out of His own fair universe. He does not show him how sad life must be without the knowledge of God: how miserable death must be without a Saviour. He comes to the man of business, and shows him visions of vast wealth. He whispers, "All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me." And that implies false dealing, sharp practice, trickery, knavery. It implies loss of self-respect, loss of honour, the reproaches of an ever-accusing conscience. The tempter comes to the young man or woman, and shows them all the delights of a life of pleasure. They see the sparkle of the wine cup, the glitter of the ball room, the pomp and vanities of this wicked world. But they do not see the other side of the picture. They do not see the grey, cold morning of sorrow which follows the night of dissipation and sin. The young woman looks on the tempting dress, the flash of jewels, the gay company. She does not see the _price_ she must pay. She cannot see herself disgraced and ruined, and cast aside like a broken toy. She can hear the music of the revel, but not the reproaches of a broken-hearted dying mother. The young man sees only the bright side of the picture, Satan keeps the dark side hidden. He fancies himself his own master, free from the restraints of home and parents, walking in his own way, in the lust of the eye, and the pride of life. Ah! brother, the way seems very charming now--it will be hard enough one day. The cup of pleasure seems very sweet now, the dregs thereof will be bitter enough one day: as for the ungodly, they shall drink them and suck them up. The food which the world offers seems as honey and the honeycomb now: the day is coming when it will be as ashes. You will come one day to the husks--the sick room, the dying bed,--and you will know that you gained this world and lost the world to come: like the rich man, you will in this life have had your good things, but _you will have paid the price_. And those old words will have a terrible meaning for you then, "What shall it profit a man to gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" Yes, the servants of sin must fulfil their contract and receive their wages, and the wages of sin is death. Ah! brethren, be serious; are these things nothing to you? Are there none of you who _know_ that you are the slaves of some besetting sin? Look into your lives, see whose marks are upon you, whose servants you are. Are you still tied and bound with the chain of your sins? If so, turn you to Him who can alone set you free; to Him who drove the strong man armed from his palace; to Him who conquered Satan in the wilderness, in the garden, on the cross; to Him who can make the weakest strong, the most sorely tempted able to triumph; Who can wash the foulest life till it shall be whiter than snow. Brothers, dare we turn away and carry our chain of slavery longer? No, let us make a struggle to be free, and let our prayer be, "O God, whose nature and property is ever to have mercy and to forgive, receive our humble petitions; and though we be tied and bound with the chain of our sins, yet let the pitifulness of Thy great mercy loose us, for the honour of Jesus Christ, our Mediator and Advocate."

SERMON XLIII.

KNOWN BY THEIR FRUITS.

(Eighth Sunday after Trinity.)

S. MATT. vii. 16.

"Ye shall know them by their fruits."

The religion of Jesus Christ is one of deeds, not words; a life of action, not of dreaming. Our Lord warns us to beware of any form of religion, in ourselves or others, which does not bring forth good fruit. God does not look for the leaves of profession, or the blossoms of promise, He looks for fruit unto holiness. We may profess to believe in Jesus Christ, we may say the Creed without a mistake, we may read our Bible, and say our prayers, and yet, if our lives are bad, all our religion is vain. If we would know whether we are being led by the Holy Spirit, we must see if we are bringing forth _fruits_ of the Spirit. If we would discover if the works of a clock are right, we look at the hands. So, by our words and deeds we shall show whether our hearts are right with God. A religion of the lips is worth nothing. We may cry, "Lord, Lord," in our place in Church, we may repeat the words which speak of the Will of God, and utter pious wishes when we sing chant or hymn, and all the while we may be far off from the Kingdom of Heaven, because we are not in our lives doing the will of our Father which is in Heaven. If we are selfish, self-willed, proud, lovers of our own selves, our religion is but the sheep's clothing covering the wolfish heart, or the white paint hiding the corruption of the sepulchre. It is easy enough to assume the character and manner of a Christian, but to live the Christian life is not so easy. A man can make a sham diamond in a very short time, but the real gem must lie for ages in the earth before it can sparkle with perfect purity. We have far too many of these quickly made Christians amongst us, who have never brought forth fruits meet for repentance, nor gone through the fire of trial, and sorrow, and self-sacrifice. Do not trust to feelings, or words, in yourselves or others, look at your life; a real and a false diamond are very much alike, and yet there is all the difference in the world in their value.

"If ye through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live. For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God." My brothers, who is our leader and guide, the Holy Spirit, or our own will? How shall we know? By our fruits. They tell us that whenever the holy saint David, of Wales, stood up to preach, there came a milk-white dove, and sat upon his shoulder. It is a serious question for you and me, for preacher and people, does the White Dove perch on my shoulder as I preach? Does the Holy Ghost descend like a dove on you who hear? Men of business, anxious workers, is the White Dove with you in your factory, your farm, your office? Mothers and fathers, young men and maidens, is there a place in your home where the Holy Spirit may come, and continually dwell?

Let us look into our lives very closely, and see whether we are mistaking outward form for true religion, words and professions for holiness, leaves for fruit. What are some of the fruits which God looks for in the life of a Christian? At the head of all, I think, we must place _love_. Ah! you will say to me,--I only wish I could love God more. It is so hard to love One whom we cannot see. I worship God, I try to keep His commandments, but I am not sure that I _love_ God. My brother, my sister, let not your heart be troubled. If you really try to do God's Will it is a proof of your love. "If ye love Me, keep My commandments." "For this is the love of God, that we keep His commandments. If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar. We know that we do know Him if we keep His commandments." You can show your love to God by showing love and kindness to your brethren. By kindly judgments of another's fault; by gentle words of comfort, of pity, or of warning; by tender hands stretched out to bring back the wandering sheep; by loving acts of charity to the sick and suffering; by care for the poor bruised reeds of this rough world, you can show your love for God, who is the source of all love. If we love God we shall try to lead others to Him. A true Christian cannot be selfish. Think of the example you set to others. Is it a good one, a strong one, a light shining before men so that they can see your good works? At the battle of Tel-el-Keber our troops had no sufficient plans of the ground. The General therefore ordered a young naval officer to lead the Highland Brigade by the light of the stars to their destined post. When the fight began the Highlanders were ready, and among the first to fall was their young leader. The victory was gained, and the General hastened to the tent of his wounded officer. The dying man smiled as he raised his trembling hand to his commander, and looking him in the face said, "General, didn't I lead them straight?" My brothers, we are leading our fellow men by the example of our lives, the question is, _are we leading them straight?_

Another fruit for which God looks in a Christian's life is _humility_. Every act and word of our Saviour's earthly life teaches us to be humble. Let the haughty, the proud, the self-satisfied man, open his Gospel, and he will find a reproof to his pride on every page. Let him bend his head, and bow his stiff knee before the Almighty God, cradled in a manger, fasting in the desert, homeless, friendless, silent before His foes, stripped, mocked and beaten, dying upon the Cross. Go, my brother, and bow your head at Gethsemane; go, kneel before the Cross of Calvary, and ask God to make you humble. The longer a true Christian lives the more humble-minded he becomes. A young man, just starting in life, holds his head high, and is inclined to look down on others. But as he journeys on through the world, learning by experience, his head grows bent and lowly. So is it with Christ's people. The longer we go to His School, and the more we know of the way of godliness, the humbler we become. Like S. Paul, we count not that we have attained the mark, we only press forward towards it. We begin with shame to take the lowest place, we learn to consider others better than ourselves, and to say to our Lord, "I am not worthy that Thou shouldest come under my roof." As the laden fruit tree bends its branches nearest to the earth, and the fullest ears of corn hang lowest, so the holiest man is ever the humblest. In a certain city abroad every child found begging in the streets is taken to a charitable asylum. Before he is washed, and dressed anew, his portrait is taken as he stands in his beggar's rags. When his education is finished, this picture is given to the child, and he is made to promise that he will keep it all his life, that he may be reminded what he was, and what great things have been done for him. It is good for us to remember, my brothers, what we were: helpless wanderers in this world, clothed in filthy rags of sin; and we must remember, too, what God has done for us. How He has redeemed us from our slavery, making us His own children by adoption, washing us in the Blood of Christ which cleanseth from all sin, and giving us the white robe of holiness. Who is there who, thinking upon these things, can be other than humble? Let us examine ourselves, and see whether we are bringing forth that fruit. We preach humility to others, we expect to see it in others' lives, are we humble ourselves? Have we learnt to walk _humbly_ with our God?

Another fruit which God expects in the lives of His people is _forgetfulness of self_. Have you stayed to calculate how much of your time is occupied in thinking and talking of yourselves? In some houses they line the rooms with looking glasses, so that wherever you turn you see a reflection of yourself. My brethren, some of us pass all our lives in such a room; we are for ever contemplating our own selves. We spend our time in looking into a mirror that we may see our beauty, our cleverness, our fine clothing. One glass reflects our pleasures and amusements, another our sorrows and misfortunes. But every inch of space is so filled with self that there is no room for another's joys or sorrows, and, above all, there is no room for Jesus. Let us strive by God's grace to get away from self, and the eternal thinking and talking of our own concerns. Even Jesus Christ pleased not Himself, and believe me, we are no Christians unless we are trying to forget ourselves, and to deny ourselves. We must be crucified with Christ if we are to reign with Him, and alas for us if we cannot show the marks of the nails where we have been fastened to our cross. My brethren, these are serious thoughts for us all. By our fruits, and by them only, we shall be known. If our lives show no love, no humility, no self-sacrifice, no patience, no meekness, how shall we stand when the great day of ingathering comes? Often the Dresser of the Vineyard has looked upon some of us, seeking fruit, and finding none, and we know not how soon the sentence may go forth, "Cut it down, why cumbereth it the ground."

SERMON XLIV.

RENDERING OUR ACCOUNT.

(Ninth Sunday after Trinity.)

S. LUKE xvi. 2.

"Give an account of thy stewardship."