Chapter 7

My brothers, this life is a pilgrimage through the vale of tears, a journey along the robber-haunted road. Everywhere we see the traveller of the parable who has fallen among thieves. Some have fallen among Satan and his followers, thieves and murderers of souls. I see young men who have thus fallen. My brothers, where is the white robe of your Baptism, the shining armour of your Confirmation? Is that troubled face of yours the same over which a pure mother wept and prayed, and which she sanctified with holy kisses? Can you recall a time when you went through the world "wearing the white flower of a blameless life?" And now, your white robe is stripped off from you, your armour is broken and cast aside, there are ghastly wounds upon you. Your conscience is wounded, your good name is wounded, your purity is all stained and foul, you have trampled on the white snow of some innocent life. You have wandered out of the right way, and strayed into bad company, into the drunkard's haunt, or the gambler's den, or the house of shame. You have fallen among thieves, and they have stripped you, and wounded you, and left you half dead.

Young men, is not this too true of some of those who hear me now? What will you do? Will you lie there in the dangerous path, and die, die in your sins? No, look for help--but where? The world cannot aid you. The world is selfish, the world is hard upon those who have fallen, the world will pass by on the other side. Money will not help you, it cannot purchase clothing for you, or procure medicine for your disease. Your clothing must be bought without money and without price. Turn to Jesus, the Good Samaritan, He alone has medicine to heal your sickness. Turn to Him in weeping, in praying, and He will give you wine, which maketh glad the heart of man, even the wine of pardon; and oil to make you a cheerful countenance, even the oil of comfort to your wounded spirit. He will clothe you once again, and make you in your right mind. O wounded wayfarer on the road of life, cry out to Jesus, the good Samaritan. Some have fallen among the thieves of bereavement and loss. As they lie there in their sorrow, they tell us how their money was lost in the bank, or their savings swallowed up in bad times of trade. There are poor widows lying there, who say to us, "We have buried our husband, the bread-winner, how can we feed and educate and clothe the children? How can we struggle on through a hard world?" To them I say--Listen for the footsteps of Jesus, the Good Samaritan. The same love which comforted the widow of Nain will comfort you. The same Hands which wiped away her tears will dry your eyes. Only believe, and turn to the Good Samaritan. Some have been beaten in the battle of life, and are nearly heart-broken. I have tried so hard to get work--they say, but there seems no room in the world for me, disappointment has been my meat and drink day and night. Ah! my brothers, have you not been trusting to the Priest and the Levite, rather than to the Good Samaritan? The world has passed you by, but Jesus will not. He will bind up your broken heart, and show you that there is room in God's world for all who will do their duty. But there is another lesson for us to learn. If Jesus does so much for us, we ought to help each other. "Go thou and do likewise." The common, popular idea of religion, is utter selfishness. We are taught that the great end and aim of religion is to get our soul saved, as cheaply as possible sometimes. Now this teaching is utterly wrong. It leads us to think only of ourselves, it makes us go to Church from a wrong motive--that we may get good. True religion teaches us to be good Samaritans, to do all to the glory of God, to love Him with all our heart and strength, and our neighbour as ourself. "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." The great lesson of the parable is this, that every man is our neighbour when he needs help, and we can give it. The Jews, as we know, had no dealings with the Samaritans, and our Lord's story showed how that middle wall of partition should be broken down. The Good Samaritan did not stay to question the fallen traveller about his religious views, or his political principles--he saw him in trouble, and he helped him. May we all go and do likewise. We Christians are all too ready to build up a wall of separation between ourselves and our brethren. One of these walls is that of religious difference. We disagree about some point of doctrine or ritual, and allow the disagreement to embitter our feelings, and to shut out our sympathy. Politics form another wall of separation. We differ from a neighbour in our political views, and we refuse to recognise any good in him because he does not think as we do. There are some among the rich who look down with contempt upon the poor, as though poverty were the unpardonable sin. And there are endless prejudices of rank and class which shutout man from man. Against all these things the parable of the Good Samaritan is a protest and a warning.

It is the way of the world to leave a fallen man to his fate, but it is not Christ's way. It is the way of the world to speak very hardly of those who are in want and misery, for as nothing succeeds like success, nothing fails like failure. But again, that is not Christ's way. He never breaks the bruised reed, or quenches the smoking flax. My brothers, let us learn to look on all men as our neighbours, let us stretch out a helping hand to those who have fallen among thieves, let us pour the wine and oil of sympathy, and kind words where we can, let us be gentle in our judgment of another's fault, since "blessed are the merciful."

SERMON XLIX.

WALKING WITH GOD.

(Fourteenth Sunday after Trinity.)

GALATIANS v. 16.

"Walk in the Spirit."

The life of a Christian must be one of progress. S. Paul says, "_Walk_ in the Spirit;" he does not say, stand still. It is not enough for us to have been born again of Water and the Holy Ghost, and to have received the Gifts of the Spirit from time to time through the different means of grace. We are bidden "to stir up the gift that is in us;" we are told to "_grow_ in grace." God has set us upon our feet in the right road. He has taken us by the hand, that is, the Holy Spirit is our leader and guide; but we have something to do--we must _walk_. There are some who tell us that everything has been done for us in the past, and that everything will be done for us in the future; and those who believe that doctrine never do a day's work for Jesus. They never go into His vineyard; they never make any use of their five talents, or even of one; they never put on the whole armour of God. They tell us they have nothing to do, all is done for them. I should be sorry to hold so selfish, idle, and unmanly a doctrine as that. I know very well that God _has_ done, and is doing, for me what I could not do for myself. I know how weak I am, and how much need I have of God's guiding, strengthening Hand: but I know also that He expects something from me. He bids me fight and struggle against temptation; He tells me to press forward towards the mark--to go up higher, to seek those things which are above, to forget those things which are behind. He would have me labour and strive to enter in at the strait gate, and to work out my own salvation. He commands me to take up my cross and follow, and all this means work, struggle, _progress_. "Walk in the Spirit." When Jesus had opened the eyes of the blind man, he did not continue to sit by the wayside begging, he arose and followed Christ. It is only blind folks, whose eyes Jesus has not yet opened, who are content to sit by the roadside of life and do nothing. God says to each one of us--"This is My way, walk ye in it." Let us see what this walking means. First, I think it means _going forward_. There is no standstill in God's natural world, nor is there in God's spiritual world. If a child is healthy, he is growing: _getting on_, as the phrase is. So a true child of God is getting on, making progress, going forward every day. He goes on growing in grace till he comes of age, then God takes him to His Home, and gives him his inheritance. If you look at the tombs in a churchyard, you will see that those lying there died at all kinds of ages. Here is the tiny grave of an infant, snatched from its parents' arms almost as soon as the cross was written on its brow. But in God's sight that little one had come of age, and so was taken Home. Here is the grave of a child who had begun to do some work for God, and was as sunshine in its home, and the joy of its friends. When death took the child, people mourned because he died so young; but God had said of him, and his work, "He has come of age--it is finished." Here is the grave of an old man, a village patriarch. It required nearly a hundred years before he came of age, and he had to walk for many a weary day, and carry his cross, before God saw that the time of harvest had come, and sent "the reaper, whose name is death." And now comes the solemn question--are we making progress, going forward; are we striving to do the work which God has given us to do? Next, walking in the Spirit means _discipline, self-denial_. "I keep under my body," is the motto for every Christian man. We must turn our eyes from the sight which tempts us to leave the right path; we must close our ears to the whisper of those who would lead us aside. We must keep our mouth, as it were, with a bridle; we must lay aside every weight. Each of us has his special temptation, which becomes a weight, a hindrance. One man is so weighted with the cares of business and money-getting, that he cannot walk in the right path. The gold and the silver weigh him down, and make him stumble. Another has piled up such a load of troubles and worries upon his shoulders that he cannot advance. One woman is so cumbered with her domestic concerns that she makes no progress towards Heaven. Another is overwhelmed with pleasures and amusements which cling about her, and hinder her from going forward.

My brethren, do not let the world over-weight you, or drag you back from the right way. There is one weight, however, which we must all carry--our cross. I have heard of a picture which represents two pilgrims along the road of life. One bears his cross on his shoulders, and steps forward manfully, looking up to Heaven; the other is dragging his cross after him along the rough road, with painful and unwilling labour. We must _take up_ our cross and bear it if we would walk in the Spirit. If we suffer it to drag behind us, it will only hinder instead of helping us. Each sorrow, each loss, or bereavement, is as a nail to fasten us closer to our cross. Let us stretch out our hands willingly to receive the nail, sharp though it be. Remember we must be _crucified_ with Jesus if we are to be glorified with Him. Again, walking in the Spirit means _patient perseverance_. A religion of fits and starts is worth nothing. There are many who come running to Jesus, like the young ruler, but when they know what being a Christian means, they go away. There are many who, at the time of a Confirmation or a Mission, declare that they will follow Christ whithersoever He goeth. But, after a little while, the enthusiasm dies out, they grow weary in well-doing, unstable as water, they follow no more after Him. If we would reach our journey's end, we must _keep on walking_, steadily, patiently, perseveringly. "He that endureth to the end shall be saved." Again, walking in the Spirit means _looking forward_ along the road. Too much of our religion is _short-sighted_. We see the pleasure or the sorrow at our feet, but we see nothing of the glorious future, the rest that remaineth for the people of God. We are like those who see the clod of earth against which their foot strikes, but never lift their eyes aloft to look on the towering mountain. Men of science tell us that shortness of sight is greatly on the increase amongst us, especially with those who live in great cities. The reason for this is that the city dwellers wear out their eye-sight by looking constantly on objects close to them, without having any wider or more distant prospect. So it is with our spiritual sight. We wear it out by fixing our eyes on some worldly object close to us. One man has grown near-sighted by gazing day after day at his money bags, till he can see nothing else; and another has studied his ledger and cash book till he has no eyes left for God's fair Heaven above him; another has looked at his own picture till he sees his own cleverness or greatness reflected everywhere.

My brothers, look forward, look up: see God's love and mercy on all sides of you. Come out into God's sunshine; ask Him to open your eyes that they may see the wondrous things of His law. I think, too, that walking in the Spirit means having _perfect trust in God--walking with our hand in His_. If you see a man fearful about to-morrow, dreading the future, always expecting and anticipating evil, meeting misfortune half-way, be sure he is not walking in the Spirit. Hold fast to God's Hand--trust Him. Do you remember the story of the little Russian boy who trusted in God? He and a younger sister were left utterly destitute on the death of their father. Left alone in the house, without money and food, the little boy knew not how to comfort his baby sister. At last, urged by the tears of the little one, the boy wrote on a piece of paper, "O God, please to send me three copecks (a penny) to buy my little sister some bread," and then hurried away with this strange letter to the alms box of a neighbouring church, believing in his simplicity that in this way his letter would reach Heaven. A Priest saw the little boy trying to force the paper into the alms box. He took the letter from him and, having read it, gave the child food and assistance. Next day the Priest preached in the church on behalf of the orphans, and when he had related the story of the child's letter to God, a liberal offertory was given.

Lastly, I think that walking in the Spirit means _walking in hope_. If we trust God and do our best, we cannot despair. We shall find the road hard and stony at times, but let us hope and go steadily forward. We shall fall sometimes, we shall make mistakes, we shall suffer defeats, we shall be cast down, and weary. Still let us hope, and go steadily forward.

"Hope on, hope ever, tho' dead leaves be lying In mournful clusters 'neath your journeying feet, Tho' wintry winds through naked boughs are sighing, The flowers are dead, yet is their memory sweet Of summer winds and countless roses glowing 'Neath the warm kisses of the generous sun. Hope on, hope ever, why should tears be flowing? In every season is some victory won."

SERMON L.

THE PREACHING OF NATURE.

(Fifteenth Sunday after Trinity.)

S. MATT. vi. 28.

"Consider the lilies of the field."

This world is God's great Temple, and the voices of Nature are His preachers. The Holy Spirit speaks to us through these preachers like the wind breathing through the pipes of a great organ. To those who have ears to hear, the roar of the ocean, or the sound of the mighty rushing wind, are as an anthem of praise. The song of birds, the hum of insects, every voice in the world of Nature combine to take part in a hymn of thanksgiving, a great _Benedicite_, and to sing, "O all ye works of the Lord bless ye the Lord, praise Him, and magnify Him for ever." And yet, my brothers, there are many of us too blind and too deaf to see and hear these things. To one man this world is only a gigantic farm, to be divided, and ploughed, and tilled, that it may bring forth more fruit. To another the world is merely a great market, a warehouse filled with all kinds of goods, which may be bought and sold. To some the world is like a chess-board, where each man plays a selfish game, and tries to overreach his neighbour. To others the world is a mere play-ground, where they pass a frivolous, useless existence, sitting down to eat and drink, and rising up to play. To the selfish man the world is a vast slave plantation, where unhappy slaves are forced to toil and labour to supply the needs of cruel taskmasters. To the faithless man the world is nothing better than a graveyard, where lie buried dead friends, dead hopes, dead joys, without any promise of a resurrection. But to the Christian this world is a great and solemn Temple, where he can worship the Creator, and where ten thousand voices teach him to "look through Nature up to Nature's God." When he stands in the meadow grass, or under the shadows of the pine-wood, he can feel that surely God is in this place, and that the place wherever he stands is holy ground.

"Oh, to what uses shall we put the wildweed flower that simply blows? And is there any moral shut within the bosom of the rose? But any man that walks the mead, in bud, or blade, or bloom, may find, According as his humours lead, a meaning suited to his mind."

Let us listen to-day to the preaching of Nature, and learn a lesson from the grass which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven. Let us consider the lilies, and make them our teachers. The first lesson which these silent preachers would have us learn is the unfailing care of God for His creatures. He never neglects to clothe the ground with grass, or to nourish the lilies, which neither toil nor spin. Yet we who both toil and spin, and haste to rise up early, and so late take rest, are often distrustful and full of doubt. Brethren, let us work our work, but not put our trust in it. It is God's right Hand and His mighty Arm which must help us. Let us strive to do our best, and leave the result to God. Let us dwell in the land, and be doing good, and verily we shall be fed. And next, we learn from the grass and the flowers how short our time is. Every meadow, every grassy hillock in the churchyard, seems to say to us, "as for man, his days are as grass; as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more. All flesh is grass, and all the goodness thereof as the flower of the field: the grass withereth, the flower fadeth; because the Spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it; surely the people is grass." Yes, surely this thought should be a check to our pride, and our schemes, and our worldliness, that we must one day lay them all aside, like a worn-out garment, and that the pleasant grass, which our careless foot is pressing, shall grow green upon our grave. Let us hearken to the warning of a quaint old epitaph which I have seen in a Yorkshire Churchyard:--

"Earth walketh on the earth, Glittering like gold; Earth goeth to the earth Sooner than it would.

Earth buildeth on the earth Palaces and towers, Earth sayeth to the earth-- All shall be ours."

I read the other day that lately a workman, employed in some excavations at Rome, found a funeral urn containing the ashes of one of the Caesars. The workman knew nothing of the matter, but seeing that the ashes were very white, he sent them to his wife to bleach linen with. And this was all that remained of that body which had worn the imperial purple! "To what base uses we may return!" But the grass, and the flowers of the field, not only tell us of the shortness of life, and the certainty of death, they speak to us also of the resurrection. Looking at the world in the autumn and winter time we see nothing but death and decay. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," is the mournful text of every falling leaf, and faded flower. But God who lays nature in her grave, will, in the spring time, roll away the stone from the sepulchre. Who can look on Nature, touched by the warm breath of May, and doubt the resurrection?

"Each tree she kindles by her touch bursts into leafy flames, And, like the sacred desert bush, God's presence there proclaims. The chestnuts spread their leafy palms in blessing on the air, And from their minarets of bloom call all the trees to share. With bridal blossoms, pure and sweet, the blushing orchards glow, And on the hawthorn hedges lie soft wreathes of scented snow. God reigneth, and the earth is glad! His large, self-conscious heart A glowing tide of life and joy pours through each quickened part. The very stones Hosannas cry; the forests clap their hands, And in the benison of Heaven each lifted face expands."

Can we doubt, my brothers, that the same Jesus who rose from the dead, and also makes all Nature rise from the dead each spring time, will in like manner raise us up, and give us a body like unto His glorious Body, in that fair Kingdom where He maketh all things new? If we have seen our dear ones cut down like the grass, and withered like the flowers of the field, let us remember that the grass will spring again, and the flowers will once more appear on the earth; and that our loved ones will also come again, clothed in resurrection beauty by Him who clotheth the lilies of the field.

"Oh, rainy days! Oh, days of sun! What are ye all when the year is done? Who shall remember snow or rain?

Oh, years of loss! Oh, joyful years! What are ye all when Heaven appears? Who shall look back for joy or pain?"

And again, the flowers teach us a lesson of usefulness. They are sent to make God's earth beautiful and sweet, and to gladden the heart of man. Surely we are sent for the same purpose. Most of us are destined to occupy a lowly place in life. Our position is like that of the humble violet, not of the towering forest tree. But, my brothers, the sweetest spot is where the violet blooms, and it is better to be sweet than to be grand. Never suppose that you can do nothing because God has placed you in a quiet corner of the world. God put you there as He puts a violet in a lonely nook, that you might make your corner _sweet_. If we could only remember this we should not have so many prickly tempers, and black looks, and cruel words spoiling our home life, and making the world a desert. Life would be what God would have it to be, if each of us would try by gentleness, by good temper, by unselfish love to make his corner sweet. Make up your minds now; say to yourselves--I cannot do any great work for God or my fellow man, but I will try by purity, by cheerfulness, by thought for others, to make my home sweet. And once more, the flowers teach us to be a comfort to our neighbours. When the earth is wrapped in snow, and the skies are grey and cold, and no leaf hangs on the tree, the snowdrop puts forth its fair, pure blossom to cheer and comfort us. The sight of that living flower when all the world seems dead, is like a message from the other world, whispering of coming spring and the resurrection. Well, there are times when it is winter weather in our heart. When sorrow and loss have made life desolate as a December day, and blessed, thrice blessed, are they who come to comfort us, and to whisper of brighter days in store.

In the highest part of the Peak of Teneriffe, far above the clouds, and in a dry and burning waste, there grows a plant which, in the spring time, fills the air with delicious fragrance. There are some of us who may be condemned to live in a barren and dry land of hard work, and lonely trouble. But loving natures, and gentle words, can make that desert blossom as the rose. The beauty of holiness, the sweetness of sympathy, will make the poorest home lovely and fragrant. May Jesus, the Rose of Sharon, teach us to learn the lesson of the lilies, and to make our lives sweet with purity and love.