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Title: A Lent in earnest
or, sober thoughts for solemn days
Author: Lucy Ellen Guernsey
Release date: November 1, 2025 [eBook #77163]
Language: English
Original publication: New York: Thomas Whittaker, 1889
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LENT IN EARNEST ***
Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
A LENT IN EARNEST
OR,
SOBER THOUGHTS FOR SOLEMN DAYS.
BY
LUCY ELLEN GUERNSEY.
New York:
THOMAS WHITTAKER
2 & 3 BIBLE HOUSE.
1889.
Copyright, 1889,
By THOMAS WHITTAKER.
PRESS OF
Jenkins & McCowan.
224-228 Centre St.
_I dedicate these pages specially to those who, by reason of infirmity
or other reasons, are shut out from the services of the Church at this
season. I hope, however, that they may be found useful and acceptable
to others as well. They are the outcome of many days of seclusion. May
they be blessed by Him whose dews and rain cause the herbs to spring._
_L. E. G._
CONTENTS.
—————
Ash Wednesday—Repentance
First Thursday in Lent—Confession
First Friday in Lent—Forgiveness
First Saturday in Lent—Consecration
First Sunday in Lent—Fasting
First Monday in Lent—Fasting
First Tuesday in Lent—How Shall We Keep Lent?
Second Wednesday in Lent—Abstinence
Second Thursday in Lent—In the Sick-Room
Second Friday in Lent—The Use of Fasting
Second Saturday in Lent—Dangers and Mistakes
Second Sunday in Lent—Helplessness and Help
Second Monday in Lent—Evil Thoughts and Their Remedy
Second Tuesday in Lent—Meditation
Third Wednesday in Lent—Meditation (Con.)
Third Thursday in Lent—Prayer
Third Friday in Lent—Prayer
Third Saturday in Lent—Intercession
Third Sunday in Lent—Our Enemies
Third Monday in Lent—Our Enemies
Third Tuesday in Lent—The World
Fourth Wednesday in Lent—The Flesh
Fourth Thursday in Lent—Our Ghostly Enemy
Fourth Friday in Lent—The Great Tempter
Fourth Saturday in Lent—Heartiness
Fourth Sunday in Lent—Refreshment
Fourth Monday in Lent—Refreshment Sunday (Con.)
Fourth Tuesday in Lent—Refreshment Sunday (Con.)
Fifth Wednesday in Lent—Comfort
Fifth Thursday in Lent—The Sources of Comfort
Fifth Friday in Lent—The Great Consoler
Fifth Saturday in Lent—The Use of Comfort
Fifth Sunday in Lent—The Government of God
Fifth Monday in Lent—Cæsar's Household
Fifth Tuesday in Lent—The Household of God
Sixth Wednesday in Lent—The Household of God (Con.)
Sixth Thursday in Lent—The Household of God (Con.)
Sixth Friday in Lent—The Household of God (Con.)
Saturday Before Palm Sunday—The Alabaster Box
Palm Sunday—Children in the Temple
Monday Before Easter—The Fig-Tree Having Leaves
Tuesday Before Easter—The House Left Desolate
Wednesday Before Easter—The Lost Opportunities
Thursday Before Easter—The Traitor
Good Friday—The Cross
Easter Even—The Last Sabbath
Easter—The Day of the Lord
Conclusion—Looking Back
A LENT IN EARNEST
_ASH WEDNESDAY._
_REPENTANCE._
THE keynotes of the services for Ash Wednesday are repentance and
confession. Theirs is the spirit of the first collect, of the prayers
which, in the American service for the day, follow the Litany, of
the portion appointed for the Epistle, and of the Lessons, "That we,
worthily lamenting our sins, and acknowledging our wretchedness;" "Turn
Thine anger from us who meekly acknowledge our vileness." "Be favorable
to thy people who turn to Thee in weeping, fasting, and praying."
We often use words, even very common words, without any clear or exact
idea of their meaning. "I know, but I cannot tell," is an expression
familiar to every teacher. Now the truth is, we cannot be quite sure
whether we know or not, unless we try to put our knowledge into words.
Let us, then, examine a little our ideas on this very important matter.
We find these two duties of repentance and confession constantly
conjoined in both the Old and New Testaments. The Psalms are full of
them. "I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me."
(Ps. li. 3:) "Heal my soul; for I have sinned against Thee." (Ps. xli.
4.) "Repent, and turn yourselves from all your transgressions; so
iniquity shall not be your ruin." (Ezek. xviii. 30.)
Our Lord's own preaching began with repentance, as did that of His
forerunner, John the Baptist. (S. Matt. iii. 2; S. Mark i. 15.) It was
the first commission of the Apostles (S. Mark vi. 12), as it was the
burden of their preaching after the day of Pentecost. (Acts ii. 38.)
So with confession. We read in Lev. xxvi. 40, after the most
terrible denunciations of woe against the chosen people in case of
unfaithfulness, these reassuring words: "If they will confess their
iniquity, and the iniquity of their fathers, ... if, then, their
uncircumcised heart be humbled, and they ... accept of the punishment
of their iniquity: then will I remember my covenant with Jacob!" So in
Psalm xxxii. 5, Joel ii. 12, 1 John i. 9, and many other places.
Our Church, too, in all her services, constantly presses these things
on our attention. Since, then, they are so important, is it not very
needful that our ideas about them should be clear and definite, free
from mistake or haziness? What, then, are repentance and confession?
Repentance, as the word is used in the service for Ash Wednesday, and
generally in the Bible and the Prayer-book, means turning "from" sin,
and "to" God. It has another meaning in some places—that of sorrow or
regret, as in Gen. vi. 6. "And it repented the Lord that He had made
man." But in general, it means such sorrow for sin as leads to the
forsaking of it. A man may be sorry for some transgression because it
has led him into trouble; as when a drunkard has destroyed his health,
or a thief has brought himself into the grasp of the law; but such
sorrow cannot properly be called repentance. The sinner does not hate
the sin. On the contrary, he loves it, and is only sorry that he has
put it out of his power to commit it again.
But true repentance means sorrow for sin, because that sin has
broken God's law, and grieved and offended Him. It means a steadfast
determination to give up everything which our own conscience or the law
of God shows us to be wrong. "Repent, and turn yourselves from 'all'
your transgressions." (Ezek. xviii. 30.) Observe the word ALL. It will
not do to keep anything back, to have any little secret shrine, in
which is hidden an idol. God is a discerner of the thoughts and intents
of the heart. (Rom. vi. 12.) The darkness of its most secret inner
chamber is no darkness to Him, and He will endure no willful deceit in
this matter.
I say "willful" deceit, because we may unconsciously deceive ourselves,
especially in the beginning of our religious lives. As we advance in
holiness, we shall no doubt see many things to be wrong which did not
seem so at first. But true repentance does require that we give up
everything that we know, or even suspect, to be wrong.
Nor can this work of repentance be finished up in one day, or one
Lenten season. It will have to be renewed again and again, so long
as we inhabit these mortal bodies; as often as we are made conscious
that we have offended by thought, word, or deed against the Divine
Majesty. We must remember that our Heavenly Father's precious promises
of remission and forgiveness are made only to penitent sinners.
"Repent, and be baptized," said St. Peter to the inquirers on the day
of Pentecost, and again, in his second sermon, "Repent ye, therefore,
and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, when the times of
refreshing shall come from the presence of the Lord." (Acts ii. 38, and
iii. 19.)
The prodigal son, in the midst of his wandering and wickedness, was no
doubt an object of love and care to his father, but it was not till he
returned to his father's house, and submitted to his authority, that
he was restored to favor. Not that there is any merit in repentance,
as if we thereby earned a title to forgiveness: we must not entertain
for a moment any such idea as that. Salvation is, in its very nature, a
deliverance from sin. That is what it means. But unless we see the evil
of sin we shall not wish to be delivered from it. Therefore, in every
case, the first direction to the inquirer is "Repent."
But of what are we to repent?
Of all our wrong doing and thinking and feeling—of our neglect of God
and His service—of our carelessness in this most important concern of
life—of all our evil deeds and thoughts and tempers. The more closely
we examine ourselves by the light of God's Word, the more we shall
see to deplore, till we come at last to know practically what we have
perhaps always believed as a doctrine—that in us, that is, in our
flesh, dwelleth no good thing, and that not only man in general, but we
ourselves, are prone to evil as the sparks fly upward.
Let us not, therefore, be discouraged, or faint in our minds! For all
this evil the remedy is provided. Hear what comfortable words the
Scripture hath for our encouragement. "Jesus Christ came into the world
to save sinners." (1 Tim. i. 15.) "I am not come to call the righteous,
but sinners to repentance." (S. Matt. ix. 13.) Take your reference
Bible and look up the passages relating to this subject, and you will
see that there is no room for discouragement, much less for despair.
Ps. li. S. Luke xv. 1—10.
_FIRST THURSDAY IN LENT._
_CONFESSION._
IN many places of Scripture, we find coupled with repentance another
condition of repentance—that is, confession. "I acknowledged my sin
unto Thee, and mine iniquity have I not hid. I said, I will confess
my sins unto the Lord; and so Thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin."
(Ps. xxxii. 5.) "Only acknowledge thine iniquity, that thou hast
transgressed against the Lord." (Jer. iii. 13.) "If we confess our
sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse
us from all unrighteousness." (1 John i. 9.)
To whom are we to confess?
First of all, to ourselves. We are frankly to acknowledge our iniquity,
and that not in general terms alone, but we are to come down to
particulars. It is easy to own ourselves sinners in a general way,
while all the time we are cherishing a very good opinion of ourselves.
"Oh, yes, we are all miserable sinners!" said a shrewd old lady. "But
we are just as good as the rest of the miserable sinners, and a good
deal better than some of them." I fancy we all have this feeling at
times, though we may not put it to ourselves quite so plainly.
In order to make our confession to ourselves of any use, it must
be frank and open. It will not do to accompany every confession
with an excuse. "I spoke hastily and unkindly, but then I had great
provocation." "I ought not to have repeated that scandalous story, but
then I had it on good authority." "I ought perhaps to have abstained
from that amusement, but A and B went, and I do not pretend to be
better than they." Have we not all excused ourselves in this style
again and again? But what is this but saying that we should never do
wrong if we were never tempted? Let us consider whether we dare offer
these excuses to God before we venture to comfort and quiet our own
consciences with them!
Secondly, we must confess our sins unto the LORD. "I said, I will
confess my sin unto the Lord." (Ps. xxxii. 5.) "Take with you words,
and turn to the Lord." (Hos. xiv. 2.)
"But," you say, "does He not already know my sins? Why, then, should
I confess them?" In the first place, because He has seen fit to
command it. He also knows all our wants and wishes far better than we
ourselves; yet He has commanded us in everything to make known our
requests to Him. "Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer
and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto
God." (Phil. iv. 6.) Surely His will should be enough for us, since He
commands nothing without good cause.
But, secondly, we should confess our sins to God, because in that way
alone can we be made thoroughly aware of their sinfulness. A fit of
causeless anger, or a bit of malicious gossip, looks very different
to us when we lay it bare before God in our closets. The excuse which
seemed very plausible when the act was committed, will not appear so
in the light of His presence before whom we stand, and who is of purer
eyes than to behold iniquity. If we are honest in our confession, the
Spirit, which searcheth all things, will show us aggravations of our
fault which we never suspected.
Finally, we should confess our sin unto the Lord for the sake of the
peace which the action brings to our own hearts and minds. There is no
time when our conscience torments us so sorely as when we are trying to
persuade ourselves that it is not hurting us at all; when we are making
all sorts of excuses to ourselves for our faults.
A wise and witty man once said that all the riches and pleasures which
life has to offer would be embittered and made useless to a man who was
compelled always to wear a sharp nail in his shoe. No doubt, he was
right. Now, an unconfessed, and, therefore, unforgiven, sin is just
such a nail. It is true that by a long course of neglect the conscience
may be silenced for a time. But it is only for a time, and how awful
will be the awaking!
Let us, then, come boldly but humbly to the Throne of Grace—to the
Mercy seat, where our God is always to be found by those who honestly
seek Him! Let us confess all those sins which, by our frailty, we have
committed, and ask for forgiveness and cleansing for His sake by whose
stripes we are healed, who bore our sins in His own body on the tree,
and who now sits at the right hand of the Father to make intercession
for us. Let us do so, not trusting in ourselves as if there were any
merit in the act, but trusting alone in His gracious promises, and we
shall find peace to our souls.
Psalm xxxii. 1 John i.
_FIRST FRIDAY IN LENT._
_FORGIVENESS._
HAVING, then, come to the Throne of Grace with true repentance and
humble confession, let us not fail to accept the promises of God in
all their fullness. Too many do this, and even value themselves on
what they term humility, but which is in reality faithlessness. "I
should never dare to believe that my sins were really forgiven," said
a certain person; "I should think it presumption." Now which is the
greater presumption, to believe what God says, or to disbelieve it?
See how full and explicit are His words of promise to all who turn to
Him! "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us
our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." (1 John i. 9.)
Observe the fullness and force of the promise: He is faithful and just.
Faithful, because He has promised; just, because our Lord has borne our
sins in His own body on the tree (1 Pet. ii. 24), and has suffered, the
just for the unjust. (1 Pet. iii. 18.)
Nor is this all. He not only forgives our sin, but he washes it away,
and makes it as if it had never been. "Though your sins be as scarlet,
they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they
shall be as wool." (Is. i. 18.) "The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us
from all sin." (1 John i. 7.)
We must never suffer ourselves to doubt, much less to despair of
God's mercy. Such doubts are amongst Satan's favorite weapons. "How
many times have you asked forgiveness for this very sin already," he
whispers. "How many times have you professed repentance, and promised
never to commit it more? Is it not presumption, yea, mockery, to ask
God to forgive you again?" Do not for a moment listen to him. What are
you going to do if you do not ask? You will certainly never be rid
of your sin in any other way than by God's help, and how are you to
obtain that help but by coming to Him? He who bade us forgive an erring
brother, not seven times, but seventy times seven, is not likely to be
less merciful Himself.
"There is more grace in God than there is sin in all the sinners that
ever lived," said an aged saint of God when this matter was under
discussion; and he was right. But are we not in danger of presumption
in thus believing that God is ready to forgive, however many times we
sin against Him? Not if we are sincere and honest in our repentance,
and in our hatred of sin. It would, indeed, be the greatest of
presumption to go on willfully indulging in sin on such grounds. The
person who did so would be a hypocrite. His repentance would be no more
than a pretence, and his profession a mockery and a lie.
But to the honest penitent, I believe nothing can be more calculated
to humble him in the very dust with a sense of his own unworthiness
than the conviction that, after all his vileness and ingratitude, his
Heavenly Father has pardoned him, and taken him again into favor.
"And I will establish my covenant with thee; and thou shalt know that
I am the Lord," says God to the rebellious and polluted daughter of
Jerusalem, after enumerating all her horrible offenses; and He adds
these significant words: "That thou mayest remember, and be confounded,
and never open thy mouth any more ... when I am pacified toward thee
for all that thou hast done, saith the Lord." (Ezek. xvi. 63.)
Shall we, in the face of such gracious and glorious promises as these,
dare to doubt the goodness and mercy of our Father? Shall we bring
the burden of our sins to Him who has covenanted by His justice, as
well as by His mercy and love, to blot out our transgressions for His
own sake, and not remember our sins, and then take up that burden and
carry it away again? Shall our doubts make Him a liar? Surely, this is
presumption, and not the humble faith which trusts in Him, and takes
Him at His word.
Let us then rejoice in the belief that our Heavenly Father has
pardoned and cleansed us according to His immutable word—that our
unrighteousness is forgiven and our sin is covered, and that to us the
Lord does not impute sin. (Ps. xxxii. 1, 2.) So shall we find that
peace which the world knows not, and can never know, and that joy in
which it has no part. So shall we have all our wounds healed, and find
strength to fight the good fight of faith in the time to come. "For the
joy of the Lord is your strength." (Neh. viii. 10.)
Psalm xxxii. 1 John.
_FIRST SATURDAY IN LENT._
_CONSECRATION._
WHAT is consecration?
It is setting apart. When a building, as a church, is consecrated to
the worship of God, we understand that it is set apart for His worship,
and is not to be put to any other use. When a bishop is consecrated,
he is set apart from worldly business for his sacred office, and he
is expected to give up all his time and talents to the duties of that
office.
In the same way, a truly consecrated Christian is one who has given
himself up wholly to the service of God, his Creator, Redeemer, and
Sanctifier—who aims to please not himself, but God, in all he says,
does, and thinks. His time, his talents, his worldly goods, his
position and influence, his very amusements, are used for the service
of God, and he is ready to give up his most cherished pursuit as soon
as he is made aware that it is not pleasing to his Heavenly Master.
We find in Holy Scripture abundant warrant for such consecration.
"What, know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which
is in you, which ye have of God? And ye are not, your own, for ye are
bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your bodies, and in your
spirits, which are God's." (1 Cor. vi. 19, 20.) "For no man liveth to
himself, and no man dieth to himself. For whether we live, we live
unto the Lord, and whether we die, we die unto the Lord. Whether we
live, therefore, or die, we are the Lord's." (Rom. xiv. 7, 8.) In this
chapter, be it observed, the Apostle is speaking of so common a matter
as eating and drinking, and he says, again, "Whether ye eat, or drink,
or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." (1 Cor. x. 31.)
Again, "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that
ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God,
which is your reasonable service." (Rom. xii. 1.)
The Church teaches us the same lesson in her most solemn act of
worship. "And here we offer and present unto Thee, O Lord, ourselves,
our souls and bodies," is the language of the prayer of consecration in
the office of the Holy Communion. The same thought is found repeated
again and again in the Prayer-book, notably in the collects for the
fourth and fifth Sundays after Easter. Every Communion Sunday, if we
are worthy communicants, we make, or rather renew, this consecration of
ourselves to our Lord.
But in order to make this consecration acceptable to God, or useful
to ourselves, it must be entire and perfect. We must not follow the
example of Ananias and Sapphira, in professing to give all, and then
keeping back a part. So long as we "keep back part of the price,"
so long as we hold fast to anything we know we ought to give up, or
hold ourselves back from any duty we know we ought to perform, so
long is our offering imperfect—unpleasing to God, and unprofitable to
ourselves. "Cursed be the deceiver, which hath in his flock a male, and
voweth, and sacrificeth to the Lord a corrupt thing," said the prophet
to the Jews after the captivity. (Mal. i. 14.) Their God had redeemed
them from captivity worse than death, had brought them to their own
land once more, and restored to them their old religious privileges,
yet they reckoned His service weariness, and grudged to give of their
best for His offering. Our Lord has redeemed us from a worse bondage
than theirs, and has bought us with a great price, even with the
suffering and death of His dear Son, and shall we grudge to give Him
that which is His own?
The want of this perfect consecration is the reason why so many
Christian people have no comfort in their devotion. Old-fashioned
Methodist people used to employ a significant phrase in this
connection. They would ask,—
"Do you enjoy religion?"
Too many, it is to be feared, do not enjoy it at all. They seem to have
just enough to make them uncomfortable.
"I feel as if it were of no use for me to pray," said one; "my prayers
never seem to get out of the room, and my heart is cold and heavy. I
have no sense of the Lord's presence at all."
"Are you sure," asked her friend, "that you are indulging no sin, or
neglecting no known duty?"
After a moment's pause came the question, "Do you think such a thing is
wrong?"
"Whatever I think, I know what you think," was her friend's inward
answer.
Our God is a jealous God! He will not share His temple with another. If
we would have Him dwelling in our hearts, we must banish thence every
idol, and every unclean and even doubtful thing. For we must remember
that if we think any act wrong, or even doubtful, that act becomes
a sin to us. This is true especially of amusements and pleasures
of all sorts. He who risks God's anger for the sake of a personal
gratification, is guilty of presumptuous sin.
If, then, you find your religious state unsatisfactory, your prayers
lifeless, your sacramental seasons without comfort or enjoyment, your
heart heavy under a secret sense of condemnation, let me beg you to
examine yourself, and see if the trouble does not lie just here—that
you are keeping back something that your Lord requires of you. And if,
on an honest search, you find that He calls on you to give up some
indulgence to which you are holding fast, or to take up some duty which
you have hitherto neglected, let me beg of you to obey on the instant;
whatever be the cost, break the idol, banish the intruder, take up the
duty, and, so doing, find peace to your soul.
Mal. i. Rom. xii.
_FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT._
_FASTING._
THE special service for this day sets before us, as the subject of
our meditation, our Lord's fast in the wilderness. The collect is
founded on it. "O Lord, who for our sakes didst fast forty days!" The
Gospel for the day sets forth the story of the same fast, and of the
temptation which followed.
It was for our sake that the Blessed Jesus fasted. His sinless nature
had no need of such discipline. But He was "in all points tempted like
as we are," that we might know that "we have not an High Priest which
cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities." (Heb. iv. 15.)
"For in that He Himself hath suffered being tempted, He is able to
succor them that are tempted." (Heb. ii. 18.) Let us, with reverence
and godly fear, consider a few of the circumstances of His fasting and
temptation.
It was immediately after our Lord's baptism, and the wonderful
manifestation of the Divine Glory in confirmation of His claims, that
He was "led up of the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of the
Devil." After the privilege came the temptation. If we consider our own
experience, we shall often find this to be the case with ourselves.
How often, after a season of more than usual earnestness and enjoyment
in devotion, does the heart seem to go back with a rebound, as it
were, to the vanities of the world! How often, after an act of honest
renunciation, does the thing we have given up paint itself to our fancy
in more attractive colors than ever, till we think ourselves little
better than hypocrites, and are ready to give up in despair!
But we have no reason to despair. Nay, we may, if we use them aright,
make our very temptations means of grace, drawing from them both
encouragement and strength—encouragement, because Satan would not take
so much pains to draw us aside if he did not see that we were escaping
from his power; strength, if we let our trials make us more watchful
against sin, and more earnest in our prayers for help.
Our Lord's first temptation came through the medium of His bodily
wants. He was exhausted from fasting; and Satan, as is usual with him,
attacked him on what he believed his weak point. "If thou be the Son
of God, command that these stones be made bread." (S. Matt. iv. 3.) He
often assaults us in the same way. "You are tired and hungry," he says;
"you have a right to be irritable." "You are an invalid; you have the
right to be exacting, and to make the comfort of others give way to
yours." "You are sleepless, and in pain; you have a right to take the
drug which will give you present ease and rest, whatever may be the
consequence." Let us answer as did our Lord: "Man shall not live by
bread alone." Let us remember that the body is to be the servant, not
the master, and treat it accordingly. There are no persons who need
to practice self-control more than invalids, and especially nervous
invalids.
Again, our Lord did not make use of His divine power against the
tempter. He used weapons which are within the reach of every one of us.
He met Satan with the words of Holy Scripture. And in this very fact,
by the way, may be found an answer to those who decry and undervalue
the Old Testament. Every one of our Lord's quotations is taken from the
book of Deuteronomy. And we may furnish ourselves, if we will, with
weapons from the same celestial armory. Does Satan attack us through
our bodily weakness? "My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength
is made perfect in weakness." (2 Cor. xii. 9.)
Does he beset us with doubts as to the forgiveness of our sins,
or acceptance with God? Every disciple has, like Christian in the
"Pilgrim's Progress," "a key in his bosom, which will open any lock
in Doubting Castle." Hence the importance of making ourselves very
familiar with the weapons which St. Paul calls "the sword of the
Spirit," and of having it, as it were, always at our side. A man might
have the best weapon in the world in his possession, but it would stand
him in little stead when attacked, if he did not know how to use it, or
if he had left it hanging up in his closet at home. But if we store our
memories with the very words of the Bible, and meditate often thereon,
we shall have sword and shield always at hand. I shall have more to say
on this matter hereafter.
Once more, temptation, valorously withstood, is followed by peace.
"Then the Devil leaveth Him, and, behold, angels came and ministered
unto Him." (S. Matt. iv. 11.) "Our Lord will not suffer us to be
tempted above that we are able." (1 Cor. x. 13.) Satan may rage, but
his rage is restrained by one stronger than he, and after the storm
comes a calm. Then come to us, as to the pilgrim, some of the leaves
of the tree of life, to heal our wounds, and if the white robe has
contracted any stain in the strife, there is opened the fountain for
sin and uncleanness, where we may wash and be clean. (Zech. xiii. 1.)
We must still be on our guard, and have our weapons at hand, but our
Captain allows us a breathing-time, and He will himself come and talk
with us as we rest by the way.
Ps. xlvi. S. Matt. iii.
_FIRST MONDAY IN LENT._
_FASTING._
WHAT is fasting?
IN its broadest sense it is self-denial. As generally used by our
Church, it means abstinence in some shape—either from amusement, from
food, or from personal luxuries. The Romish Church makes it to consist
mostly in refraining from meat, especially during Lent; but that is
a narrow view of the matter, and one which admits of a great deal of
personal indulgence. The early Church made no distinction in quality
of food, and the most scrupulous did not hesitate to eat meat when
needful. Our own branch of the Church lays down no definite rules on
the subject of fasting, either in Lent or at any other time, but, with
her usual wisdom and liberality, leaves the matter to each person's
conscience.
It has been remarked that there is no absolute command to fast in the
New Testament. Our Lord, however, implicitly sanctions and approves the
practice by His example, and by giving directions as to how the duty is
to be performed (S. Matt. vi. 16), and by His words to the Pharisees
(S. Mark ii. 19); and it is commended by the practice of the Apostles
(Acts iii. 2, 3, and xiv. 23.) Our Lord tells us that fasting, like
prayer, should be performed without ostentation, and this is the only
direction given on the subject.
The law of Moses appoints only one fast that of the great day of
atonement (Lev. xxiii. 27), but we find in the Old Testament numerous
examples of fasts, usually on occasion of some great danger or calamity
(2 Chron. xx. 3; Joel ii), or of some dangerous enterprise. In the
writings of the prophets, also, we find many allusions to fasting as
a common practice, and also directions as to the spirit in which it
should be performed.
Our Church observes all Fridays throughout the year as fast days,
and also the forty days before Easter. This last season, called Lent
(probably from the Saxon word for Spring), is that with which we are
specially concerned at present. How, then, shall we keep Lent?
The Church answers this question, to some extent, by her multiplied
services and frequent Communions—by the opportunities which she gives
us of social worship. Let us avail ourselves of this privilege as far
as possible, by being frequently in the sanctuary, and by joining
heartily in the prayers and praises of God's people. Let us be early in
our places, that our spirits may be quieted, and our hearts attuned by
some minutes of prayer and meditation, before the service begins. The
quiet and the association of the place are specially favorable to such
exercises.
Many people find an advantage in reading some devotional book at this
time, such as Thomas à Kempis, or the Sacra Privata, and this is a good
plan, provided always that the book be used as a guide to meditation,
and not as a substitute for it. As a rule, we read too much and think
too little.
Our prayers should be not only for ourselves, but for our
fellow-worshippers, and for all the interests of our own Church and the
Church at large. Let us remember our families, the guild or society
to which we belong, our god-children and pupils in Sunday-school, the
missionary enterprises of our own parish and those of the Church. We
shall find that a few minutes spent in this way, on entering church,
will compose our minds, and add tenfold to the comfort and usefulness
of the service which follows.
Many sincere Christians are troubled with wandering thoughts in time
of prayer, and especially of public service. I have always found great
assistance in keeping my eyes fixed on the book, following every word
of the service. Such wandering thoughts are dogs which run out and
bark at us in the street—the best way is to go straight on and take no
notice of them. But as an old author has said, the best way to govern
our thoughts in prayer is to be in the habit of governing them at all
other times.
When service is over, let us not be in a hurry to rise from our knees,
but let us again spend a few moments in secret devotion. I much like
the custom of the congregation remaining in their seats or standing
till the minister leaves the chancel. And let us strive, above all, to
carry with us through the day the influence of the blessed services
in which we have been engaged. The Psalms or the Lessons will have
furnished us with some food for meditation, to which our minds may turn
in the intervals of business, and from which we may draw counsel and
comfort, and—
"at evening we may say,
I have walked with God to-day."
Is. lxiii. S. Mark vi.
_FIRST TUESDAY IN LENT._
_HOW SHALL WE KEEP LENT?_
YOU say, perhaps, "I am shut up—confined to the room or the house,"
or, "I am away from the church and its worship. I cannot join in the
services, however much I should like to do so."
This is a mistake, and a very unfortunate one, which is likely to
deprive the person making it of much spiritual growth as well as
comfort. No one needs the helps which the Church holds out to her
children more than those who are shut away from the more public means
of grace. We are too apt to think of the Church, not as the one Body
of Christ, but as a mass of disconnected parishes and individuals. You
are as much a member of the Church at large when you are a thousand
miles away from her services, or when you are kept helpless on your
bed, as though you were in the heart of a great cathedral city, with
opportunities of attending a grand service every day.
It is one of the blessings of our inestimable book of Common Prayer
that it enables us to join in the prayers and praises of those who are
able to attend public worship. If from illness or any other cause you
are kept from going to church, let me ask you to take the Prayer-book,
and follow the service in your own room. Read the proper Psalms and
Lessons, and, that you may do so, keep yourself in mind of all the
Church days and seasons. This is easily done in these days of cheap
almanacs and wall calendars. Do not, if you can help it, let one day
pass without reading at least one of the proper Lessons for the day,
and one of the Psalms, and using some part of the appointed prayers.
You will never appreciate as you should the wonderful beauty of our
service, and its suitableness to your spiritual needs, till you learn
to use it in your private devotions.
But in order to this appreciation, we must guard against formality,
and carelessness. Let us study the service, and commit it to memory;
especially the collects, those wonderful jewels of devotion, which
shine the more, the more they are looked at and used. I can testify,
from my own experience, to the value of this practice to the sick and
feeble. Many times, when oppressed by pain and weakness, or vexed and
distracted by nervous irritation, unable to frame a sentence, or to put
even into thought the desires and griefs of a burdened heart, have I
found unspeakable comfort and help in the dear, familiar words which
came almost without an effort, and expressed the longings of my soul
better than any words of my own.
Let me beg of you, then, dear shut-in and shut-out brothers and
sisters, to make bosom friends and companions of your prayer-books. Let
them be always at hand, and never, if you can help it, omit using a
part at least of the service for the day. This will require some effort
and self-denial, but this very effort and self-denial will do you good,
and are exercises most suitable to the season.
Believe me, if you will but follow the practice through one Lenten
season, you will never again willingly omit it.
Ps. lxxxiv. Eph. iv. 1-17.
_SECOND WEDNESDAY IN LENT._
_ABSTINENCE._
WE have already seen that fasting, in its broad sense, means
self-denial, and in the ordinary sense, abstinence. In this latter
sense it is used in the collect for the day. Now abstinence, we all
know, means "going without something," and the question to be settled
by each one of us is, "What shall we do without?"
The Church, always discreet and liberal in her requirements, lays down
no rules in this matter, but leaves it to the judgment and conscience
of each individual of her children. We are to be, not without law, but
a law unto ourselves. One may abstain in matters of food, another of
some favorite occupation or amusement, such, for instance, as light
reading or fancy work, or a favorite game. Another will take time from
his business or pleasure for devotional reading, or for some work of
charity.
We are to be a law unto ourselves, but let our rule "be" a law. Do not
let the matter be left to chance, or the impulse of the moment. "Let
every man be fully persuaded in his own mind," said St. Paul, speaking
of a somewhat similar matter (Rom. xiv. 5.). He is writing to the
Christians of Rome, many of whom had been Jews, and still found their
consciences burdened at times by the requirements of ceremonial law.
"One," he says, "believeth that he may eat all things; another, who
is weak, eateth only herbs...One man esteemeth one day above another:
another esteemeth every day alike." But however that might be, every
one was enjoined to be "fully persuaded in his own mind," and not to
act against that persuasion—that is, against the leading of his own
conscience.
Having, then, laid down a rule—having decided on that measure of
abstinence which we deem best for ourselves—let us adhere to that
standard, however we may be tempted to depart from it. For instance,
if you decide to give some particular part of the day to devotional
reading or study—a very excellent practice—do not let every little
matter, especially of your own convenience, divert you from your
object. If you decide to abstain from light reading, hold fast to your
resolution in the face of the most fascinating and bepraised novel.
Unless you do thus adhere to them, your rules will be burdens and
temptations instead of helps.
There is another and a very important point to be considered in this
matter of amusements. In the very chapter that we have been quoting,
St. Paul says: "If meat make my brother to offend, I will eat no meat
while the world stands." The church man or woman who is seen at the
opera or theatre during Lent must not be surprised if he hears his
religious profession lightly spoken of by worldly associates. The
Sunday-school teacher or Girls' Friendly Associate who so indulges must
not complain of the pupil or member who follows her example.
A visitor in a certain house was amazed, on entering the parlor on Good
Friday evening, to find two whist tables in operation, both occupied by
church-members who had attended service in the morning. The visitor was
not surprised at the remark of a Roman Catholic servant:
"Well, they don't think much of the day, whatever they may pretend."
And certainly the spectacle was not an edifying one to those who made
no religious profession whatever.
"All things are lawful unto me, but all things are not expedient," and
it is hard to see how anyone who desires to use this holy season as the
Church intended it to be used can spend time and money on expensive
amusements. Believe me, it is a bad symptom in the spiritual life when
a Christian is thinking, not how much he can give up for his Lord, but
how much he dares keep for himself.
Is. lviii. 1 Cor. x.
_SECOND THURSDAY IN LENT._
_IN THE SICK-ROOM._
"I AM an invalid," says someone; "I never go either to the theatre or
opera; I never attend a party, or partake of any public amusement;
hardly indeed, of any amusement at all. How shall I keep Lent?"
In the first place, so far as possible, get out of your world into
God's world. I have been an invalid for months and years at a time,
and I have seen a great deal of illness, so I am not speaking at
random. The great temptation of a chronic invalid is to make the world
centre in himself. The great interests of mankind, and of the Church,
charitable, and mission work, and Christian work of every kind, are of
no importance compared to the position of a table or the serving of a
meal. We almost forget that these things have any existence, or that we
as individuals have anything to do with them.
I do not mean to say that all chronic invalids are irritable or
selfish; I must say frankly that I have seen quite as much of these
qualities in nurses as in patients. But it is perfectly natural—nay, it
is unavoidable—when one is shut up in a small space, to make that space
and its arrangements of great importance. They "are" very important,
and a kind and faithful nurse will take care that no untidiness or
carelessness shall offend the eye; that the book or work or glass of
drink shall not be moved and set down just out of reach; that the
door shall not be left ajar to slam, or the window to rattle. Such
carelessness is often nothing less than cruelty.
But making all allowances, I still say to the invalid, get out of your
little world into the great world as often as possible. Recollect that
you are still a member of Christ's living body, and as such there must
still be some work for you to do. Especially at this season, consider
if there is not some way whereby you may help the Church in her great
work of converting the world.
I would earnestly advise you to turn your attention to the subject of
missions at home and abroad. If you are able to read, subscribe for
the "Spirit of Missions" and read it all through. An excellent old
Presbyterian lady once said that when she got her missionary paper
she "just sat down and prayed right through it." Do you likewise, and
at the same time consider how wonderful is this instrument of prayer,
by which, in your chamber, you can reach the overworked man or woman
toiling in China or Africa. You will soon find that your interest in
the work grows as you learn more about it. You will find yourself
looking out for news from particular stations and people, and thinking
of Miss Wong and her orphans, and Miss Somebody Else and her Indians or
Freedmen, as if they were personal friends.
Do not be content, however, with reading and praying. Try to do
something. Many invalids are able to do more or less light work with
their fingers, and find great comfort in it. Now at this time let your
work be consecrated in a special manner. Lay aside the fancy work for
something practical and useful. Let the drawn work give way to the
hospital towel, and the knitted lace to the hospital sock. Even if you
can do but little, let that little be done faithfully and as regularly
as possible, and the Lord of the harvest will bless your gleanings as
much as the full sheaves of the stalwart reaper in the field.
If you are earnest in watching for opportunities you may also practice
self-denial in other ways. Are there no little luxuries that you can
do without, and so add a few cents or dollars to your charity-purse?
Cannot the orange, or bunch of grapes, or bottle of cologne be sent to
some poor body who keeps Lent all the year round? Is there no service
which you have been in the habit of requiring from an attendant, and
which, by a little effort, you may perform for yourself? When a visitor
comes in, can you not turn the conversation from your own aches and
pains to something more pleasant and profitable? All these things
are self-denials, and, if used in the right spirit, will bring their
reward—a present reward in improved cheerfulness, and so, often, in
improved bodily health; a lasting reward in growth in grace, and in
that holiness which shall make you more fit for that world where there
is no more any pain, because the former things are passed away.
Psalm lxxvii. Rev. vii. 9-17.
_SECOND FRIDAY IN LENT._
_THE USE OF FASTING._
WHAT is the use of fasting?
The answer to this question is given in the collect which has formed
the text of our meditations for the week. "That our flesh being subdued
to the spirit, we may obey Thy godly motions in righteousness and true
holiness."
The flesh, as the term is usually employed in Scripture, means the
lower and earthly part of our nature. It is that part of us to which
almost all the pleasures of sense address themselves. St. Paul tells us
that they who are in the flesh—they who live for it alone—cannot please
God (Rom. viii. 8); and he gives the reason, because they that are
after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh.
The flesh, that is, as we have said, the lower part of our nature, has
neither belief nor interest in anything but what can be seen and heard,
and handled with hands. It cares for nothing but the things which
belong to time, and must therefore perish with time. The invisible
things which are eternal, and therefore the only real things, are as
nothing to the man of the flesh, or at best but the idle dreams of
enthusiasts. This being the case, it is easy to see why they who are in
the flesh cannot please God.
Now this earthly and carnal nature, which is here called the flesh,
remains in every one of us. We are all more or less under its
influence. We are all prone to let the seen and temporal hide from our
thoughts the unseen and eternal. The wants of the body are imperative,
and must be provided for, and with these needs are apt to come lusts.
The lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life are
all intimately connected with real needs, and take on their names and
faces.
Our bodies are useful servants, but bad and hard masters, and they are
always striving to get the upper hand, and govern where they ought to
obey. Therefore it is needful to rule them with a strong hand. St. Paul
says, "I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection"; that is,
literally, "I buffet it with blows, and treat it as a slave," and he
gives us the reason for this conduct, "lest that by any means, when I
have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway." (1 Cor. ix.
27.) The Scriptures, especially the Epistles, are full of warnings on
this subject. "If ye live after the flesh, ye shall die: but if ye
through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live."
(Rom. viii. 13.)
The flesh is to be subdued to the spirit; to our own immortal spirit,
and to the Holy Spirit. To our own spirit, because that is the part
of us which is nearly related to God, capable of communion with Him,
and even of being partaker of the Divine Nature (2 Pet. i. 4); to the
Holy Spirit, because He is our Divine Guide and Comforter. The flesh
is to be made thus subject, that it may know its place and be silent
and quiet before its betters, that its voice may not hinder the voice
of God. It must be taught to obey, that it may be the servant and not
the master. And as soldiers are drilled in time of peace, when no enemy
is at hand, that they may be ready and skillful in time of war, so our
bodies may well be trained and brought under discipline, that in the
time of trial they may be helps and not hindrances in running the race
which is set before us.
Is. xxxii. 1 Cor. ix.
_SECOND SATURDAY IN LENT._
_DANGERS AND MISTAKES._
THERE are two or three dangers and mistakes connected with this
subject, which we shall do well to consider.
The first is the danger of spiritual pride—of considering our
self-denials as good works, whereby we acquire merit, and, so to
speak, bring God in debt to us. One would think, at first sight, that
no well-instructed Christian was in any such peril, yet a very slight
acquaintance with history will show the painful absurdities which have
grown out of this idea, and the mischief and waste to which it has led.
It is very hard for a man to take in the idea that he cannot deserve
anything of God by his good works; that all his righteousnesses are
as filthy rags, and that after his very best is done, he is but an
unprofitable servant, doing no more than his duty; that he must accept
salvation, if at all, as an absolutely free gift. His pride revolts at
the idea. He does not like to feel that he is only a beggar. Hence the
tendency, of which every faithful and experienced Christian is more or
less conscious, to magnify his own good works, if not in the eyes of
others, yet in his own secret soul.
Pride is a subtle enemy, and never more to be dreaded than when it
takes the form of that spiritual pride which apes humility. From
this root have grown all sorts of noxious weeds; especially those
exhibitions of self-torture which so revolt common sense in the lives
of so-called saints—the pillar of Simon Stylites, the five orange seeds
a day of Rose of Lima, and the like. Neither by precept nor example do
the Scriptures countenance any such practices. On the contrary, our
Lord's injunctions seem directed expressly against them. (S. Matt. vi.
16-18.)
Another danger to be guarded against is that of despising the body, as
if it were of no account. The body is to be subject to the spirit, no
doubt. It is a servant, and is to be kept to a servant's place, even
by severe discipline if need be, but it is to be kept in health and
strength, that it may serve well its master. It is the tool of the
spirit, and must be kept in good working order. He would be a foolish
master who should so treat his tools or his servants as to disable them
from work.
Our bodies are to be treated with respect because they are God's
temples, in which it pleases Him to dwell. "Know ye not that your body
is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you?" says the Apostle (1
Cor. vi. 19); and again, "Know ye not that ye are the Temple of God,
and that the spirit of God dwelleth in you?" and he adds, "If any man
defile the temple of God, him shall God destroy." (1 Cor. iii. 16.)
From these considerations, it may be easily seen that those persons are
guilty of sin who are willfully careless of the body; who for the sake
of dress or amusement, or indulgence of any sort, injure their health
and lessen their powers of usefulness.
Once more: The body is to be treated with respect because it has a
share in our redemption. True, it is subject to decay and death. True,
for a time it must molder in the dust, but it shall be raised again,
and united to its kindred spirit, freed from all taint of sin and
corruption. True, it is sown in dishonor and weakness, but it shall be
raised in glory and power, to inherit immortality.
Job xiv. 1 Cor. iii.
_SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT._
_HELPLESSNESS AND HELP._
THE collect for this day is especially a prayer for help; help for body
and soul. The suppliant's plea is his helplessness. We have no power of
ourselves to help ourselves, and so we turn to Him who is both able and
willing to help us.
It is to be wished that Christians in general realized more fully their
dependence upon God. We all go to Him for help in great matters—in
deep afflictions, in strong temptations; but in the little things of
everyday life, we forget or neglect to call upon Him; and it is in
these very little things that we are defeated and overthrown by our
ever-watchful enemy. "He that despiseth little things shall fall by
little and little," said a wise man; and no truer word was ever spoken.
It is the small temptation which makes way for the great one. It is the
misstep which prepares for the fall.
Take an example: Theodore wakes in the morning feeling rather unwell
and out of sorts. He has perhaps overslept when he wished to wake
early, and is hurried in consequence. Proceeding to dress, he finds
a button off, or a stud misplaced; a real vexation, though a small
one; but Theodore never thinks of asking for help in such a matter as
that. He would perhaps regard such a prayer as almost a mockery. The
bell rings before he is ready, and he has, or thinks he has, no time
for morning devotions. By the time he reaches his office, he is in a
thoroughly bad humor, and ready to vent his annoyance on the first
person who comes across him.
When Theodore reviews the events of the day, he is obliged to confess
that he has made a sad failure. He sees, with shame, that he has been
unjust and unkind; that he has, perhaps, offended one of God's little
ones, or put a stone of stumbling in the way of someone whom he is
trying to influence for good. He confesses his sin with penitence
and shame, but it does not occur to him to trace the trouble to its
source—the failing to seek for help against the first temptation.
Oh that all of us, who profess and call ourselves Christians, could
come to realize in our inmost souls, that in us, that is, in our flesh,
dwells no good thing; that in very deed we have no power of ourselves
to help ourselves in great things or small! It is a thought humbling
to human pride, no doubt, but it is true. Every good thing, every good
gift, is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights (James
i. 17), and thrives in the soil of this lower world only by careful
cultivation. Spiritual strength, and the power to resist temptation,
are no exception to this rule. They must come from above, in the first
place, and they must be continually watered from above if they are to
live. You might better set a willow-tree in the midst of the great
American Desert, and expect it to grow there without irrigation, as
to expect any Christian grace or virtue to live in your heart without
constant watering from the Divine Fountain, which gave it life in the
first place.
This fact of our utter helplessness to do the least good thing of
ourselves would be very discouraging; would, indeed, lead us to utter
despair if it stood alone. But God is all-knowing, and He sees that we
have no power of ourselves to help ourselves. He is almighty. Nothing
is too hard for Him. All things are in His hand, from the whole visible
universe to the least grain which helps to make it; from the highest
archangel to the tiny baby which was christened yesterday, and whose
christening robe was also its burial dress. Nothing is too great for
His power, nothing too small for his care and love. He is our Father.
He loves each one of His children as much as if that child were the
only one, and He has laid up for each one such good things as pass
man's understanding.
And this all-powerful, all-loving God knows all our needs and all our
weakness. "He knoweth whereof we are made; He remembereth that we are
but dust." (Ps. ciii. 14.) He sees that we have no power of ourselves
to help ourselves, and His help is always ready. Yea, the whole power
of Almighty God is enlisted on the side of the weakest child who is
trying to please Him. But He will not force His help on any one.
His hand is always held out, but we are free to lay hold on it or not,
as we will. We may neglect or slight His offers if we choose, but we
must take the consequences. We may, if we please, kindle a fire for
ourselves, and try to walk in the light of it; but this shall we have
of His hand: we shall lie down in sorrow. (Isa. l. 11.)
Isa. li. S. John x. 19.
_SECOND MONDAY IN LENT._
_EVIL THOUGHTS AND THEIR REMEDY._
EVERY Christian knows what it is to be troubled with evil thoughts.
Bunyan, than whom no uninspired man was ever better acquainted with the
human heart, makes it one of his Pilgrim's trials that he bore away
with him from the City of Destruction some of those things that he was
conversant withal, especially his inward and carnal cogitations; and
he adds, sorrowfully, "If I had my way, I would never think of those
things more, but when I would do good, evil is present with me."
How often is his experience ours! How many times we find ourselves
haunted with what we would fain forget! Some one offers us an affront.
We have no desire to cherish a grudge, and perhaps we make an act of
forgiveness on the spot; but all day long the scornful word or the
unkind act haunts our memory, and Satan conspires with the traitor
in our own hearts to magnify the offense, and to suggest thoughts of
malice and revenge. We are denied some pleasure or indulgence that
others enjoy, and to which we think, perhaps, that we have a better
right than they, and we dwell upon the matter, magnifying the forbidden
pleasure or advantage till it becomes a dark fog, blotting out every
pleasant prospect and shutting us up in measureless discontent.
I believe that invalids are particularly subject to this kind of
temptation. The horizon of the sick person is narrow at the best, and
a small cloud suffices to obscure it. Moreover, there are certain
disorders which seem of themselves particularly favorable to evil
thoughts. The patient is, or fancies himself, neglected or forgotten.
He is tempted to envy those better off than himself. He thinks of all
the good work he has done, and of all he might do, and he is tempted
to think hardly of the Master, who seems to have rejected his service.
These and still darker thoughts beset the daily couch and nightly
pillow of the invalid, till he feels as if Satan in bodily presence
were standing at his bedside.
Now what is the remedy for this unhappy state of things? The first
thing to be done is to recognize these thoughts as sins. We are too
apt to excuse them to ourselves as mere infirmities, consequent on our
state of health. They may be so to some extent. All our sins are the
consequence of some temptation. So long as we constantly make excuses
for our faults, so long they will stay by us, and consider themselves
as welcome guests. Let us call them by their right names to begin
with, and, like the malicious dwarf in the fairy tale, they are half
conquered already.
The next thing to be done with our evil thoughts is to crowd them out.
It has been said that Nature abhors a vacuum, but Satan loves one
because it gives him a place wherein to bestow his wares. Let us try to
so occupy our mind with good things that there shall be no room for the
bad ones. Let us fill our memories with good and pleasant things, that
we may from time to time take out our treasures, and refresh ourselves
with the sight of them. Christian found his inward enemies were
vanquished when he looked upon his broidered coat—that robe of Christ's
righteousness given him instead of his own rags; when he read in his
roll—that evidence of his salvation given to every humble believer in
God's word; and above all, when his thoughts waxed warm about the place
to which he was going. Try his method.
Then, too, we must use the weapon put into our hands for this very
purpose—the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God; and to
the end that we may have the full benefit thereof, we must accustom
ourselves to its use. We must store our memory with its promises, its
counsels and instructions.
I once asked a venerable minister what book I should read in Lent.
His answer was, "The Bible"; and he added, "I could wish that
Christians would put aside all other books during Lent, and read the
Bible alone."
Without going so far as this, I would earnestly warn every one not to
let the Bible be crowded out by any book, however edifying. Do not be
content with merely reading, but study it. Learn by heart such passages
as are likely to be most useful, and so familiarize yourself with the
book as to be able to turn at once to anything you want. A sick-bed or
chamber is not the best place to begin this practice, but it is better
begun there than never.
Above all, let us, like Christian in the shadow of death, betake
ourselves to the weapon called "all prayer." Let us make haste to
escape to Him who is our strong tower and house of defense. Let the
language of our hearts be that of the Psalmist: "Into thine hands I
commit my spirit, for Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth." (Ps.
xxxi. 5.) So shall He defend us under His wings and we shall be safe
under His feathers; His faithfulness and truth shall be our shield and
buckler. (Ps. xci. 4.)
Ps. xxxv. St. John xiv.
_SECOND TUESDAY IN LENT._
_MEDITATION._
THE best remedies for evil thoughts are good thoughts.
It is, I fear, a sorrowful truth that in these days of activity
and bustle, in the Church and out of it, the duty and privilege of
Christian meditation is in danger of being pushed into the background,
or forgotten altogether. We read a few verses in the Bible, morning and
evening. Perhaps we keep some religious book on our table, and read a
little every day. All this is very well as far as it goes. But how many
Christians ever sit down to think out anything for themselves? We may
"hear and read" the Bible, but unless we "mark, learn, and inwardly
digest" as well, our souls may be half-starved in presence of a royal
banquet.
Meditation, that is to say, serious and connected thought on a given
subject, is not an easy task. But, as an excellent writer aptly asks,
"Who ever said any Christian duty was easy?" Meditation is always hard
at first. It is often difficult to those who have practiced it for
years: there is so much to be done, and so little time; there are so
many trials of temper and feeling in our daily life, whether that life
be passed out of doors or in the confinement of a sick-room.
This is all true. And every one of these statements is a plea for the
practice I am advocating. There are so many distractions, that we all
need the quiet of that "little sanctuary" which God has promised to be
to His people in all lands. (Ezek. xi. 16.) There are so many trials of
temper and feeling, that we all need to claim the promise, "Thou shalt
hide them privily by Thy presence from the provoking of all men." (Ps.
xxxi. 20.) There is so much to be done, and so little time to do it in,
that we cannot afford to miss any help which our Master has put in our
way. As well might the tree planted by the river (Jer. xvii. 8) spend
all its strength in putting forth branches and leaves, and forget to
stretch out its roots to the pure cold waters which run at its foot.
Unless it does so stretch out its roots, it might as well grow like the
heath in the desert.
"But I do not know where to begin," says someone; "I do not know what
to think about." This is surely a needless difficulty. Is not the deep,
unfailing well at hand, yea, under your hand? Have you no Bible? Let
us look for a moment at that priceless model of meditation, the cxix.
Psalm. What is the key-note of that psalm but the consideration of
God's Word? "I will meditate in Thy statutes." "Open mine eyes, that I
may behold wondrous things out of Thy law." "Teach me, O Lord, the way
of Thy statutes." And so on from beginning to end. It is the Word of
God which must be the text of our meditations.
"But how shall I set about it?"
You are perhaps a Sunday-school teacher or pupil. (You should, if
possible, be one or the other.) If so, you have the subject of your
meditation cut out for you in your next Sunday's lesson. I advise you
to begin by memorizing it. In that way you can carry it about with you
wherever you go. Then turn it over in your mind, verse by verse, yea,
word by word. Sift it as if you were hunting for diamonds.
Say to yourself, "Do I understand the exact meaning of this word, or
that allusion? How shall I explain that point? How shall I frame a
question which shall make the pupil bring out the meaning for himself?"
And finally, "What does the lesson teach me?" For, be assured,
unless it does say something to you, you will never make it speak to
any one else. If there were more of this kind of preparation, the
superintendent would not so often be grieved by the sorrowful spectacle
of a teacher sitting idly before an idle class, because he or she "has
finished the lesson, and does not know what to say."
Permit me to give a short example to illustrate my meaning. Take the
first verse of the second chapter of St. Matthew—a simple passage, and
very familiar. "Jesus was born in Bethlehem." Where is Bethlehem? What
do I know about its situation, its distance from Jerusalem, its history
and present condition? Was it the home of Jesus' parents? How did He
happen to be born there? Then come the momentous questions: Who was
this babe of Bethlehem? Why was He born? What is He to me? And so you
see, this simple historical verse lifts for you the veil of the Holy of
Holies, where you can but wonder and adore.
The prayer-book, also, will furnish abundant subjects for thought.
Take the collect for the day; say, for example, the ninth Sunday after
Trinity, which has a direct bearing on this subject. Why is it so
important to have right thoughts? What is the relation between thinking
and doing? What passages of Scripture bearing on this point can I
remember? And so on through the whole collect. There is, perhaps, not a
prayer in the Church service which will not afford matter for a week's
meditation; and no one knows the wealth concealed in the prayer-book
who has not treated it in this way. Try it, and see if at the end of
the Lenten season the Church service does not say more to you than ever
it did before.
Ps. cxix. 1-24. 2 Peter 1.
NOTE.—The substance of this and the next chapter was printed in "Church
Work," some time ago.
_THIRD WEDNESDAY IN LENT._
_MEDITATION—Continued._
"MEDITATION is all very well for people of leisure," says some one,
"but I am busy from morning till night. I have no time."
To this I answer: "Are you quite sure you have no time? Let me ask you
to look back upon your day, and tell yourself honestly how much time
has been spent in melancholy musing, in useless regret, or worse than
useless foreboding; perhaps, in brooding over some real or fancied
injury or affront. Surely these hours would have been more pleasantly
and profitably spent in the way I have suggested. Just because you have
so much to do, you need the refreshment of the hidden spring—of the
pure water which flows from the Fountain of Life."
"I am engaged in a great deal of Church and charitable work," says
another; "has it not been said that labor is prayer? And may it not
take the place of meditation as well?"
Just as well, and no better. You might as well say that labor is
eating. It is a pretty and plausible saying, but it is not true.
Labor is not prayer, any more than it is food or sleep. No one needs
more the refreshment of the hidden spring than the person who is
engaged in mission or charitable work. There is so much to discourage
and dishearten, there are so many failures and disappointments and
mistakes, that the worker needs all the aid and comfort procurable not
to grow morbid and discouraged.
"Yes, it is all very well for healthy people," says another, "but I am
an invalid."
Just because you are an invalid do you need to learn the art of
governing your thoughts. No one is tempted more than an invalid to
the indulgence of those useless and harmful musings of which I have
spoken. Sharp and severe illness is an occupation in itself. But to
the chronic patient; able to be about a little, perhaps to do a little
light work, how long are the hours of the day! How much longer those of
the night! How fancy pictures to us the pleasures of the world which we
cannot enjoy! How often do Satan and our own corrupt hearts conspire
to suggest hard and unkind thoughts of friends and attendants, yea,
even of God Himself. How are our uneasy pillows haunted with the ghosts
of dead joys and hopes and plans, and still more dread phantoms of
sins and failures and fears for the future! I have been a bad sleeper
all my life, and in many an hour of wakefulness have I blessed the
old-fashioned Sunday-school method of "seven verses and a hymn," which
stored my mind with whole chapters of the Bible, and with the best
devotional poetry. I wish this old fashion could become a new fashion
again. I have never seen a better.
"But there is such an abundance of good books!"
True, but all the books in the world are worth very little to the
person who is content with merely reading them. We can think, moreover,
when we cannot read, and half an hour's earnest and prayerful
consideration of a chapter or verse of God's word will be of more value
than a dozen commentaries without such consideration.
It is good always to begin and end our meditations with prayer. It is
good, too, at times, to turn our meditation into contemplation; in
simply making real to ourselves His presence who has said, "Lo, I am
with you alway." (St. Matt. xxviii. 20.) "If any man ... open the door,
I will come in ... and ... sup with him, and he with Me." (Rev. iii.
20.)
Let me beg of all who read this chapter and who have never done so, to
make trial of its recommendations through the Lenten season. Do not be
discouraged, though you fail many times, though again and again you
find your thoughts wandering to the ends of the earth. Drive them back
to their appointed work every time. By and by you will find them less
inclined to stray. The hard task will become a pleasure, and you will
be amply rewarded for your pains when you find Divine truth growing
more and more clear and precious, when you find yourself better and
better able to turn away from painful and unprofitable thoughts, to
take refuge in the Lord's presence from the provoking of all men, and
to rest under the shadow of the Great Rock in the weary land. Then your
heart shall not be "like the heath in the desert, and shall not see
when good cometh," but rather "as a tree planted by the waters, and
that spreadeth out her roots by the river; and shall not see when heat
cometh, but her leaf shall be green; and shall not be careful in the
year of drought, neither shall cease from yielding fruit." (Jer. xvii.
6, 8.)
Jer. xvii. Rev. iii.
_THIRD THURSDAY IN LENT._
_PRAYER._
THE Christian is to pray without ceasing; that is, he is always to
be in the spirit of prayer. He is, by God's help, to strive to keep
himself in such a state that he can at any moment lift up his heart and
mind to his Heavenly Father, and that as much in the round of his daily
business as in his closet. He is to strive to carry about with him an
habitual sense of the presence of God, and of dependence upon Him for
all things.
"Use lessens marvel," says the old proverb, and the saying is true. The
most surprising discoveries in science, the most wonderful applications
of these discoveries to the arts, cease to astonish us in a very
short time. There is nothing in the Arabian Nights which sounds more
incredible than that the movement of a wheel turned by a waterfall
should light up a great city. Yet every child has become used to the
electric light, and thinks no more marvel of it than his grandfather
did of a candle.
So it is with prayer. Every child of a Christian mother is taught
to pray as soon as it can speak, and accepts without question the
instruction that prayer is talking to his Father in Heaven. He prays
God to bless his father, who is sailing on the sea, and his brother in
a distant city, and it seems no more wonderful to him than that the
street light should make a pretty picture on the wall of his nursery.
And yet what a wonder is prayer, when we come to consider it! All the
marvels of man's discovery and invention shrink into nothing before it.
I was once telling some little girls about the telephone and saying how
strange it seemed to talk with a friend twenty miles away. "Yes," said
one, "but we can talk to God without a wire."
The great God who upholds the Universe in His hand, and orders all
things by His omnipotent power and wisdom, has his ear always open to
the appeal of his feeblest child. Not a sigh from a sick-bed, not a
prayer lisped at the mother's knee, not a cry from the deepest dungeon,
but is heard and marked by Him. From every place on earth, the way is
open to His throne. The mother who has a son in China can send him help
by this road. The poor widow in the almshouse can lighten the trials of
her lot; yea, though she have not a penny to give to the cause, she can
help the missionary in the farthest distant field by her prayers. When
we can do no more for our friends, we can commend them to the prayers
of the Church. Alas! We too often wait till we can do no more.
I close this chapter with an extract from Professor Phelps's admirable
book, "The Still Hour."
"In the vestibule of St. Peter's at Rome is a doorway which is walled
up, and marked with a cross. It is opened but four times in a century.
On Christmas eve, once in twenty-five years, the Pope approaches it in
princely state, with a retinue of cardinals in attendance, and begins
the demolition of the door by striking it three times with a silver
hammer. When the passage is opened, the multitude pass into the nave of
the cathedral and up to the altar by an avenue which the majority of
them never entered before, and never will enter thus again.
"Imagine that the way to the Throne of Grace were like the Porta Santa,
inaccessible save once in a quarter of a century, on the twenty-fifth
of December, and then only with august solemnities, conducted by great
dignitaries in a distant city. Conceive that it were now ten years
since you or I, or any other sinner, had been 'permitted' to pray;
and that fifteen long years must drag themselves away before we could
venture to approach God; and that, at the most, we could not hope to
pray more than two or three times in a lifetime—with what solicitude
should we wait for the coming of that holy day!
"We should lay our plans of life, select our homes, build our houses,
choose our professions, with reference to a pilgrimage in that
twenty-fifth year. We should reckon time by the opening of that sacred
door as by epochs. No other one thought would engross so much of our
lives, or kindle our sensibilities so exquisitely, as the thought of
prayer. It would be of more significance to us than the thought of
death is now. Fear would grow to horror at the thought of dying before
that Jubilee.
"Yet on that great day, amidst an innumerable throng, within sight and
hearing of stately rites, what would prayer be to us? Who would value
it in the comparison of those still moments, that—
"'Sacred silence of the mind,'
"in which we can now find God every day and everywhere? That day would
be more like the day of Judgment to us than like the sweet minutes of
converse with our Father, which we may now have every hour. We should
appreciate this privilege of hourly prayer if it were once taken from
us."
Ps. lxxvii. St. Luke xi. 1-14.
_THIRD FRIDAY IN LENT._
_PRAYER._
WHAT is prayer?
Prayer, in its primary sense, means simply asking. We find the word
constantly used in this sense in Scripture and elsewhere; as when
Elijah says to the widow woman of Zarephath, "Fetch me, I pray thee,
a little water." But prayer, as the word has come to be used in the
whole Church, has a much higher signification. It means speaking to
God. It means pouring out our hearts to Him—telling Him all our wants,
our wishes, our hindrances and temptations, our trials from without and
from within. It means asking not only for ourselves, but for others;
our families, our fellow church-members, our pupils, our country and
its rulers, yea, even our enemies. (S. Matt. v. 44.)
There is no matter too great for it, and none too small. There is no
man so holy as not to need it to keep him good, and none so wicked that
he may not use it to make him better. The way of prayer is open to
every one. It is the open door set before every child of God, which no
man can shut. The Christian may be a slave, or a prisoner watched by
soldiers, beset by spies, loaded with fetters in the deepest dungeon on
earth. In the prisons of the Inquisition, the captive was condemned to
a perpetual silence. Not a word, not a groan, must escape his lips, on
pain of the gag. But his cruel and relentless jailers could not prevent
him from speaking to his God, nor could they prevent the unspoken words
from entering the ear for which they were intended. That was beyond
their power.
The courts of earthly kings are places of resort for great people,
for the noble, the rich and beautiful of their subjects. The poor and
lowly have no room there. But the courts of the King of kings are as
free to the poorest laboring man and woman as to those to whose luxury
they minister; nay, it may well be that the slave will find entrance
and kind entertainment when his master is shut out. Nor is ignorance
or weakness of intellect a bar to acceptance. The broken language of
the poor negro, the lisping accents of the little child, are as musical
to the great Father of all as the hymns of the poet, or the highest
flights of the philosopher. He sees the heart, and it is the heart
which prays.
What is requisite to acceptable prayer?
First of all, faith. "He that cometh to God must believe that He is,
and that He is a rewarder of them that diligently seek Him." (Heb. xi.
6.) A moment's consideration makes this perfectly plain. We shall not
ask of any person a boon, unless we believe that the person exists, and
that we shall gain something by the application. We must ask in faith;
that is, in the belief that we are speaking to a kind Father, whose
heart is warm toward us, and who loves to do us good.
Some good people believe that God will give us just what we ask for.
They will even tell us that, if we do not so receive, it is because we
do not ask in faith. I believe this to be a mischievous mistake. God
knows our necessities before we ask, and He also knows our ignorance
in asking. We do not always know whether the thing we ask is the best
thing. Our Father sees our lives "in the whole of our duration, whether
now or ever so many ages hence," as a distinguished author has it, and—
"The All-wise is the All-loving too!"
All things are in his power, and it costs Him no more to give one than
another. Every prayer reaches His ear and heart, and every one is
answered, but not always in the way we expect. Sometimes He gives us
something else than the thing we desire, as a tender mother gives her
child wholesome food at the same time that she withholds the coveted
but unwholesome dainty. Sometimes, too, like the same wise mother, He
answers, gently but firmly, "No!" But even when He says No, He does not
leave His child uncomforted.
"I have learned by experience," says an aged saint of God, "that when
He refuses me anything, by and by He comforts me in Himself without it."
We must pray with faith, and with resignation to God's will, but we
must also ask with perseverance. Our Lord gives us the warrant for
this in the parables of the importunate friend (St. Luke xi), and of
the unjust judge (St. Luke xviii). We are to "pray always, and not to
faint." (St. Luke xviii. 1.) We are to: "praying always with all prayer
and supplication." (Eph. vi. 18.) We are to "pray without ceasing." (1
Thess. v. 17.) We must not be content with asking once or twice, but we
must keep asking again and again. Some blessing will come in answer to
persevering prayer, though it may not always be the one we seek.
There is one blessing, and that the greatest, which we may always ask
in full confidence of receiving, and that is the gift of the Holy
Spirit. Our Lord tells us that earthly parents are not so ready to
give good gifts to their children, as His father and ours is to give
the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him. (St. Luke xi. 13.) And this
very gift helps us to pray acceptably, for "the Spirit also helpeth
our infirmities," interceding for us with "groanings which cannot be
uttered." "And He that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of
the Spirit, because He maketh intercession for the saints according to
the will of God." (Rom. viii. 26, 27.)
Ps. xxv. St. Luke xi. 1-14.
_THIRD SATURDAY IN LENT._
_INTERCESSION._
WE are not to be selfish in our prayers. Our Lord teaches us this
lesson in the very first words of the form of prayer which He Himself
has given us: "When ye pray, say, Our Father."
Of course, if God is "our" Father, He is "your" Father and "mine" as
well. Nay, we must lay hold of this truth of God's individual care and
love for His children, before we can pray as we ought. But our Lord
would bring home to our minds that, as we are members of Christ, so
we are members one of another. We are sons and daughters of the great
King, and so brothers and sisters; and thence it follows that, as
members of one family, we have duties to perform toward each other.
It is the very definition of a member that it is part of an organism
fitted to perform certain offices for the good of the whole. We see, in
the human body, that the hand has one office, the eye another, and so
on. So it is in the body of Christ, which is His Church—each member has
his place and his duties. One of these duties is intercessory prayer.
We have the commands of God in Holy Scripture for this matter, which
should of itself be enough for us: "I exhort therefore, that, first of
all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks, be
made for all men;... for this is good and acceptable in the sight of
God our Saviour." (1 Tim. ii. 1, 3.) St. Paul again and again asks the
prayers of those to whom his letters are addressed. "Brethren, pray
for us." (1 Thess. v. 25.) "Continue in prayer, and watch in the same
with thanksgiving; withal praying also for us" (Col. iv. 2, 3); and so
in other places. Our Lord Himself, our perfect pattern, sets us the
highest example of this kind of prayer, concluding His last discourse
to the twelve with that most wonderful intercession contained in the
seventeenth chapter of St. John.
Following the example of her Head, the Church teaches us the same
lesson. We are taught to pray for our rulers, for the clergy, for all
sorts and conditions of men. The Litany is in a great measure made up
of intercessions. Also in the most solemn service of all—that of the
Holy Communion—we are taught to pray for the whole estate of Christ's
church militant.
These reasons ought to be enough, if there were no others, to move us
to the duty of intercession. It hardly seems, indeed, as if we ought
to need a "command," however glad we may be of the encouragement. Is
it not a privilege as well as a duty to carry our friends' dangers
and needs and trials to the Mercy Seat? Is it not much to commend to
our Father's care our nearest and dearest, and to join our prayers to
theirs, thus obtaining the benefit of the promise that when two are
agreed on earth as touching anything they shall ask, it shall be done
for them? (St. Matt. xviii. 19.)
We may help those by our prayers whom we can help in no other way. The
most obstinate sinner, the most rampant infidel, the most careless and
indifferent person in the world, cannot keep his friends from praying
for him. The son may disregard his mother's tears and counsels, but
her prayers will follow him in spite of himself. Nay, more, the very
consciousness that such prayers were following him has kept more than
one such wanderer from an irretrievable fall, and brought him back
to his mother's arms. Prayer girdles the earth more quickly than the
electric spark, and no one upon that earth is out of its reach.
Those who can help the good works of the Church in no other way can do
so by prayer. The invalid in her room or on her bed, who is too weak
perhaps to hold a pen or a needle, can help the toiler in China or the
far West; can call down blessing from the Divine Treasury, and strength
and grace from the Fountain of all good, for the man or woman she has
never seen. The poor old black woman in the gallery of the church,
without a penny to call her own, can strengthen the hands and cheer the
heart of the eloquent missionary bishop who enters the pulpit to make
known to the people what God has wrought in a distant land. Surely such
a privilege is worth a great deal to the true child of God, who desires
with the whole heart the coming of her Lord and His kingdom, but yet
can do nothing, humanly speaking, to hasten it on.
It is certain that we cannot honestly pray for people without wishing
to help them in other ways. The man whose prayers are a mere decent
form, or a sheer pretence and hypocrisy, may pray in general for the
cause of Christ in the world without raising his hand or denying
himself one indulgence for it, but not the man who prays in earnest,
"Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." To
him, "Thy kingdom come" means also, "Let me help to bring it," and "Thy
will be done" means also, "Let me do it." It is said of St. Chrysostom,
that he kept a box on the stool where he was wont to kneel in prayer,
and with every petition for the poor he deposited a coin in the
treasury.
Finally, praying for others helps us to pray for ourselves. When our
hearts seem dull and cold, and so heavy that we cannot raise them up to
heaven, an intercession will often lend them wings. We shall go back to
our own needs with renewed faith and hope, and find the burden removed
that held us down.
Let us, then, be instant in prayer and supplication, not only for
ourselves, but for our friends and relatives, our pupils or teachers,
for our own parish and all its interests, for the Church at large, for
our country, and for all sorts and conditions of men. And let us not
be weary in so doing, till "they shall teach no more every man his
neighbor, and every man his brother, saying, Know the Lord: for all
shall know Him, from the least of them even unto the greatest of them."
(Jer. xxxi. 34.) Yea, "the knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth
as the waters cover the sea." (Hab. ii. 14.)
Is. lxii. 1 Tim. ii.
_THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT._
_OUR ENEMIES._
IN the collect for the day we ask for defense against our enemies.
"Stretch out Thy right hand to be our defense against our enemies." The
right hand is the symbol both of power and skill. It is especially so
among Orientals, with whom it is reserved for all the nobler offices,
the left hand performing those which are more humble or unclean. We
find in the Psalms and the prophets, that the right hand of God is
usually spoken of as the especial seat of His power, as in Ps. cxviii.
16. "The right hand of the Lord hath the pre-eminence; the right hand
of the Lord bringeth mighty things to pass."
To the Christian the right hand of the Lord means even more than it did
to the Jew, for it is there that his Saviour is enthroned, and ever
remains, to make intercession for him. Saint Stephen was vouchsafed the
vision of his risen Lord, thus placed, no doubt, to strengthen him for
his coming trial, and there shall we all see him who are counted worthy
to attain to the first resurrection.
"To think," said an aged saint to whom I had just been reading the
Bible, "to think that I shall see Jesus at the right hand of God! Oh,
if I might but once touch His hand!"
The very thought lighted up her plain face with a smile which made it
beautiful.
God is our defense. All the Scriptures are full of the thought, but
especially the Psalms. God will help the poor and needy, and will set
him at rest. (Ps. lxii. 6.) "The Lord is my stony rock, and my defense,
my Saviour, my God and my might, in whom I will trust; my buckler, the
horn also of my salvation, and my refuge." (Ps. xviii. 2.) "Though I
walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil;
for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff comfort me." (Ps. xxiii. 4.)
And so again and again we have our Heavenly Father's promise to defend
His children against all their enemies, both spiritual and temporal.
True, we must walk through the wilderness of this world, but we need
not walk alone. True, we walk in the midst of enemies, yet "they that
be with us are more than they that be with them" (2 Kings vi. 16),
and if our eyes were opened, like those of the prophet's servant, we
should, like him, see the angel hosts sent for defense. We may, nay we
must, hunger and thirst, but the Lord will cause waters to break out in
the wilderness, and streams in the desert. (Isa. xxxv. 6.) We need be
afraid of none of its terrors. The light will break forth and the sun
will rise, and show the ground covered with manna for our refreshment.
The thought of our God as a defense and shield should be a help and
comfort to those Christians who are troubled with fears. There are
those, especially among invalids, whose lives are made a burden to
themselves and others by needless fears. They are afraid of lightning,
of fire, of robbers, of they know not what. They feel as if every
thunderbolt had a special commission for them; as if every blast of
wind were a destroying angel. These fears are often merely nervous
symptoms, but even then they are very much under the control of the
patient. Let me say to such an one, Do but think, do but try to realize
to yourself the fact that the Lord's right hand is stretched out to be
your defense in all dangers—that He will defend thee under His wings,
and thou shalt be safe under His feathers. Consider that the darkness
is no darkness to Him, but the night is as clear as the day. (Ps.
cxxxix. 11.)
"When first before the mercy-seat
Thou didst thine all to Him commit,
He gave thee warrant from that hour
To trust His mercy, love, and power."
Are not these terrors, then, an affront to Him, as implying a distrust
in His plighted word? Dismiss them, then! Send them back to the
darkness where they belong, and let your motto be, "I will lay me down
in peace, and take my rest: for it is Thou, Lord, that makest me dwell
in safety." (Ps. iv. 8.)
Ps. xci. St. John xiv.
_THIRD MONDAY IN LENT._
_OUR ENEMIES._
WE have seen that the collect we are considering has its foundation,
like all the prayers that we learn at the knee of our mother, the
Church, in the promises of God's word, and are therefore sure to be
answered in some way. Observe, however, that it is nowhere said in
the Bible that we are not to meet with adversities. Nay, we are told
the express contrary. All His life long our Master endured hardship
and trouble; and the servant is not above his Master. "In the world
ye shall have tribulation," says our Lord to His apostles, but He
graciously adds: "Be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." (St.
John xvi. 33.)
What are those enemies which the Christian has to dread, and against
which he has special need to pray for deliverance?
Here, again, our Lord leaves us in no doubt. "Fear not them which kill
the body, and are not able to kill the soul" (St. Matt. x. 28); and
again, "Fear not them that kill the body, and, after that, have no more
that they can do." (St. Luke xii. 4.) This shuts out all that class of
terrors of which I spoke in the last chapter. The cruelest murderer,
the most destructive storm or earthquake, the most noisome pestilence,
can only kill that which must die at any rate—which brought its
death-warrant with it when it came into the world. They cannot destroy
the real man or woman; nay, all their forces combined cannot deprive
him of the very least of those things which God hath prepared for them
that love Him (1 Cor. ii. 9); nor of one moment of that eternal life
which God hath given us in His Son. (1 John v. 11.)
Clearly, then, the enemies we have to fear are those which assault and
hurt the soul, and which, unless steadfastly resisted, are able to make
our way dark and perilous, if not to deprive us of that inheritance
which has been prepared for us. It is they whom we are to combat
with all our force, and against whom we must specially ask our great
Defender to stretch out His right hand. Yet even here we must not show
ourselves coward and craven. We are soldiers of Christ. Let us never
forget that. Every battle is fought for Him, every victory is a victory
over His enemies as well as our own. He will never leave us to struggle
alone, but is always with us, though we cannot always perceive Him. Let
us, then, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of His might, knowing
that His Father, who gave us to Him, is greater than all, and none is
able to pluck us out of His hand. (St. John x. 29.)
Our spiritual enemies may all be classed under three heads—the world,
the flesh, and the devil. Against these we are to fight manfully and to
the death, never laying down our arms, never relaxing our vigilance,
and, even though apparently beaten for the time, never giving up,
till our Great Commander shall see our warfare accomplished, and call
us home. It is the Christian's paradox that there is no peace except
in war. If we give up the contest, we become slaves; and though our
conquerors give us all the goods they have to bestow in this life, they
do but treat us as cannibals treat their prisoners—fattening them, that
they may devour them at last.
Hab. ii. St. Luke xii.
_THIRD TUESDAY IN LENT._
_THE WORLD._
EVERY general strives to know all that he can about his enemy, his
nature and position, his powers and resources, and tries to foresee the
plans of that enemy's attack, that he may be able to meet and frustrate
them. Let us, then, inquire a little into the nature of those foes
which beset our homeward path, and which would, if they could, hinder
us from reaching the rest prepared for us in our Father's house. First
of all, what is meant by the world?
The world means all that outside of ourselves which is alienated from
and opposed to God, which is governed by and devoted to the things
which are temporal, and ignores, if it does not hate, the things which
are eternal. It is very wise in its own eyes; yea, according to its own
canons, and from its own standpoint, wiser than the children of light.
It is dreadfully in earnest in the things which it pursues, though
those things may be of the most frivolous description. It gets into all
sorts of places, alas even into the Church itself, running here and
there for meat, and grudging if it be not satisfied, which, indeed, it
never is. It is a severe master to its votaries, exacting the hardest
and the most exclusive services and the most cruel sacrifices, and
rewarding them at last with husks and rags.
The world puts on many disguises. To one it comes under the name of
business, demanding of its slave that he shall give up everything else
for the pursuit of money. It does not make this demand of every man
at the beginning, and in so many words. No, it is more cunning than
that. It tells him that it is his duty to provide for his family, not
only needful food and clothes and the means of education, but a fine
house in a fashionable quarter, and as many luxuries as his neighbor
possesses. It makes him press hard on those who labor for him, and
exact much work for little pay. It makes him rent tenements to men and
women which are not fit for pigs to live in, and grudge the smallest
outlay for the health and comfort of his tenants. It makes him plan and
scheme to add a few thousands more to his useless millions, by raising
the price of fuel and food to the poor man. By and by, the world has
done with him. He speculates a little too rashly, and his wealth goes
as it came. Or God says to him, "Thou fool! This night thy soul shall
be required of thee!" and he goes forth from the visible and unreal to
the invisible and real, a shivering, hungry, naked soul, homeless to
all eternity. And that world for which he has toiled and sacrificed
misses him as much as he missed the consumptive girl who breathed the
foul air of his factory till her young life was poisoned, and she
dropped at her machine, and went home to die.
The world comes to a woman with a family of little ones, and bids her
leave these immortal pledges of God's love to servants, to learn their
very prayers from alien lips, and spend her nights in amusements,
and her days in planning for the nights. It exacts of her that she
shall risk her health and blunt her sense of delicacy by immodest and
insufficient clothing. It tell her that these things are necessary, a
debt that she owes to society, and whispers that she can make up for
all that needs an atonement, by putting on a sober dress and going to
church regularly in Lent, or by giving about the fiftieth part of what
her dress costs in charity.
To another woman, the world comes in sober attire, with a housewifely
apron and a bunch of keys. It has another bait for this one, who
would not attend a ballet for the world, and looks with horror on a
game of cards. This woman's world is her house-keeping, and she can
see nothing else. She would feel herself disgraced forever, if her
neighbor put up more cans of fruit or gave more kinds of cake to her
company than herself. Talk to her of the sewing-school or the district
visiting society, and she will tell you of her anxieties about the
doing up of her lace curtains. Tell her of the needs of the heathen,
at home or abroad, she may listen politely, but her duty, she says,
is to her own family, and she cannot do anything to help you because
her dining-room chairs are quite out of fashion, and she must have new
ones. Ask her to see that her little daughter has her catechism learned
for Sunday-school, and she will tell you, as she sews the elaborate and
costly trimming on the child's dress, that she has no time.
We are in bondage to the world so soon as we let the seen and temporal,
no matter in what shape it comes, blind us to the unseen and eternal.
We are in cruel bondage when we let the fear of what the world may
say about us lead us to do what we know to be inconsistent with our
baptismal vows and our loyalty to our Lord. We are slaves to the world
when we allow any of the things which live in time and perish with time
to possess our hearts to the exclusion of those things which belong to
eternity. It is true, that as long as we are on the earth, the things
of earth must claim much of our attention. Thank God! all these things
may be made holy by an honest intention. But we cannot serve God and
mammon, and he who tries to do so will in the end find himself deserted
of both, and left to himself, that worst of all fates, from which may
God in His mercy keep us all!
Psalm lxxiii. St. Luke xvi.
_FOURTH WEDNESDAY IN LENT._
_THE FLESH._
WHO and what are the enemies that come to us under this name?
All those pleasures and pursuits which appeal only or chiefly to our
senses; to our earthly and mortal natures; to that carnal mind which
St. Paul tells us is not, and by its very nature cannot be, subject to
the law of God. The enemies of the flesh are all the more dangerous
because they appear under the disguise of friends—of things harmless,
and even necessary, in themselves. They are like slaves, serving their
masters in deed, but with secret enmity, always watching their chance
to rebel, and the cruelest of tyrants when they gain the mastery. Just
because we cannot do without them, we need to guard against their abuse.
How much money is wasted every year upon table luxuries, which the
consumers would be as well or better without! How many become such
slaves to certain articles of food and drink that they find it almost
impossible to do without these things, though they know, on the best
authority, that health is being injured by their use! How many are
vexed and put out of temper if their bodily comfort is invaded in the
smallest degree! More than once have I seen the comfort of a whole
table-full destroyed, and the meal rendered distasteful, by some one
person, who persisted in finding fault with everything set upon the
board.
It may seem at first sight a singular statement, that invalids need
especially to maintain a strict watch over themselves in the matter of
indulgence in eating and drinking, but I believe it is true. There is
perhaps more excuse to be made for them than for most others, because
they are, perforce, obliged to think a good deal of the matter; but for
this very reason they need to guard themselves against dwelling too
much on it, and against harmful self-indulgence. I have seen invalids
keep themselves in a chronic state of discomfort, and consequent
fretfulness, by eating too much. And it is an odd circumstance, though
one well-known to doctors and nurses, that these very people are often
fully convinced that they eat little or nothing.
Invalids are often led to injure themselves by an inordinate use of the
drugs and stimulants prescribed by physicians. They find the use of
such remedies followed by pleasant sensations, and take them many times
when they are not really needful; and are so made the opium drunkard,
the chloral drunkard, and not infrequently the whisky drunkard as well.
I use the word advisedly. The man who lives upon laudanum, the woman
who indulges in morphine or chloral, is just as much a drunkard as the
man or woman who gets tipsy in the corner saloon, and usually an even
more hopeless case. The whisky drunkard will often admit that he is
such; the opium drunkard never.
The remedy for all these evils is to be found in one word—temperance.
"Every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in all things."
(1 Cor. ix. 25.) The word "temperance" has come to be used in such
a confined sense, that we are in danger of forgetting its larger
application. We are to be temperate in all things; that is, we are to
use them in such moderation as that they shall do us good instead of
harm, and to have the mastery over our appetites, so we shall command
them, and not they us.
I have been speaking of such things as are in themselves harmless,
and even useful, but there are other temptations which come under the
head of "the flesh," and to which the word "temperate" does not apply,
because the soldier of Christ has no right to touch them at all. Such
are all those indulgences which tend to blunt the moral sense, and to
arouse bad thoughts and passions. These things often come to us under
very pretty disguises of art, literature, and the like.
I have known a Christian read a vile book, hardly fit for a decent
kitchen fire, excusing himself on the ground of the beautiful style—as
if one should take poison because it was presented in a finely carved
bowl. Christian women go to see other women—young girls, as precious in
God's sight as their own daughters—exhibit themselves on the stage in
shamelessly indecent dresses and dances. Yes, and they come away and
express a virtuous horror of the poor creatures, who are not half as
bad as themselves, inasmuch as they are working hard for a living, and
not for idle amusement. A shamelessly wicked woman comes among us, and
people who profess and call themselves Christians go to see and applaud
her on the stage, because, forsooth, it is "an education in art."
In all such matters there is but one rule for the Christian—"touch not,
taste not, handle not." Give the enemy no admission under any pretense,
however specious. Nobody was ever hurt by letting a doubtful pleasure
alone. Our carnal nature will in itself make us trouble enough without
any help. By God's grace we can keep it in subjection, but how can we
expect that grace, how dare we ask for it, if we run willfully into
temptation?
Ps. xvii. 1 Cor. x.
_FOURTH THURSDAY IN LENT._
_OUR GHOSTLY ENEMY._
IT seems rather the fashion, just now, to deny the existence of Satan
as a person at all. I suppose nothing could please him more than to
be so denied. "I don't believe in a personal devil," said a lady in a
Bible class; "I believe in a principle of evil." When asked to define
what she meant by a principle of evil, it appeared that she had no very
clear idea of the matter herself. The simple truth is that there is
as much proof of the personality of Satan as of the Holy Spirit, and
a believer in the Bible may as reasonably deny one as the other. Our
Lord always speaks of him as a living, thinking, active being, as in
St. John viii. 44, St. Matt. xiii. 19 and 39, and many other places.
Try substituting the words "principle of evil" in these passages, and
see what sense it will make. Satan is perhaps the most active member
of that famous old firm "the world, the flesh, and the devil," in
which indeed there are no silent partners. He is always ready to back
the others, and, what is still worse, he has a secret ally in every
heart, who, though crushed and kept under, is always trying to open
correspondence with its old friend. He does not come to us in hideous
disguise of hoof and horn, as the old painters have depicted him. None
but a fool would do that; and he is no fool as concerns the ends he
would compass. "The devil knows many things," says the Arab proverb,
"because he is very old." He knows how to put on many disguises, and
can on occasions transform himself into an angel of light.
Pride and anger, envy, hatred, and malice, are usually the sins
specially attributed to Satan; but there is one class of sins which
are particularly his own. I refer to lying in all its branches, to
evil-speaking, slander, detraction, and the like. "When he speaketh
of a lie, he speaketh of his own, for he is a liar, and the father of
it," says our Lord. (St. John viii. 44.) Slander is his business and
delight. He is "the accuser of our brethren" (Rev. xii. 10), and the
patron of them that do the like.
This matter of evil-speaking is one that deserves grave consideration.
It is a common and crying evil. There are probably few—I wish I dared
say no—professing Christians who will deliberately invent a slander,
but how many are there who will repeat one without a thought, and
that of a fellow church-member, with whom they have perhaps knelt at
the Lord's table only the day before. Mrs. A. hears a tale of shame
concerning a young girl, which, if true, would be enough to blight
the young thing's character forever. She does not know if it be true
or false; perhaps she does not know the person by sight; but it is a
piece of news, and for the dear delight of telling a story she repeats
it—never, be it observed, without some slight addition, for few people
can repeat a thing exactly as they hear it. Mrs. A. does not think that
in so repeating a slander she is making herself responsible for it,
but such is the case, and God will hold her so if man does not. She
may think herself a very good woman at the very time that she is doing
Satan's dirtiest work for him. It is not necessary that slander should
always be put into direct words. An insinuation, a lifting of the hands
and eyes, nay, silence itself, may and often does say more than words.
"A lie has a thousand legs, while the truth has but two," says the
Eastern proverb. No matter how often a false statement is repeated,
there is always some one to believe it and repeat it. Here is a
notable instance. Some one once said that "every sixpence given to the
heathen cost a dollar to send it." It is an utterly false statement,
and has been proved so a dozen times; yet it is constantly repeated,
and meets the missionary worker at every turn. "I have never cared to
have anything to do with Mrs. N., since she was found out taking goods
from G.'s store," said a person of one who was a fellow church-member.
"But that was entirely disproved," said I, indignantly; "it was shown
plainly that Mrs. N. simply took another parcel for her own—a mistake
anyone might make." "Oh well, I never heard that!" was the reply. "It
was an odd mistake, anyhow!" I suppose this story will be repeated to
Mrs. N.'s discredit for years to come, and not one in twenty who hears
it will hear the refutation.
It is a safe rule never to repeat anything to the disadvantage of
another, unless absolutely necessary. The golden rule applies here as
everywhere, "Think, if you are tempted to retail a bit of personal
slander, how you would like it if the case were your own—if it were
yourself or your wife or daughter that was attacked." Think that every
fellow-Christian is a member of the Lord's body, and that in wounding
the members you wound also the Head. Another good rule is never to
repeat conversation. We all need the prayer, "Set a watch, O Lord,
before my mouth, and keep the door of my lips." (Ps. cxli. 3.) Finally,
since it is out of the abundance of the heart that the mouth speaketh,
let us strive to keep our hearts and minds as become the temples of the
Holy Ghost, pure and clean, and admit no visitors therein but such as
are worthy of that greatest and most honored of all guests.
Ps. cxli. St. James iii.
_FOURTH FRIDAY IN LENT._
_THE GREAT TEMPTER._
"ONE thing I would not let slip: I took notice that poor Christian was
so confounded that he did not know his own voice; and thus I perceived
it. Just when he was come over against the mouth of the burning pit,
one of the wicked ones got behind him, and stepped up softly to him,
and whisperingly suggested many grievous blasphemies to him, which he
verily thought had proceeded from his own mind. This put Christian more
to it than anything that he met with before, even to think that he now
blasphemed Him that he loved before. Yet if he could have helped it, he
would not have done it; but he had not the discretion either to stop
his ears, or to know whence these blasphemies came."
Does not this passage of Bunyan's describe the occasional experience
of many a Christian? We find ourselves assailed by doubts and fears,
by hard thoughts of our Father in Heaven, by wicked suggestions of
all sorts, till we are ready to despair of ourselves, and to think
ourselves hypocrites or castaways.
How it is that Satan contrives to inject these evil suggestions, or why
he should be permitted to do so, I cannot tell, any more than I can
tell why evil should exist at all. It is a part of that great mystery
which may perhaps be explained in a future life, but certainly not
here. The practical question is, How are we to meet these assaults, and
what is the best way to repel them?
An old writer has said that the best way to meet temptations is
to deal with them as one does with dogs which run out to bark at
passengers—walk straight on, and take no notice of them. This is, in
many cases, a good rule. Ignore the tempter altogether. Hold no parley
with him, but go straight on with whatever you are doing. He will grow
tired after a while, and let you alone. But if you must needs fight
him—and one cannot always escape the contest—be sure to use the weapons
your great Captain has put into your hands, and no other. Take the
shield of faith. Repel every doubt with an "I believe" and an "I know."
Be sure you are familiar with your sword, which is the Word of God.
Above all, never for one moment give up the contest. The Seneca Indians
have the correct theory on this subject. They hold that no evil spirit
or demon can hurt a man while he fights it, and does not give way to
fear; but that if he does so give way, it is all over with him. All the
powers of darkness combined cannot drag the weakest disciple from his
Saviour's arms so long as the will holds fast to its Lord. Remember
this, and show yourselves men.
Remember, too, that there is a sure refuge always at hand, always
open, always strong to save. In old times, he who fled for refuge
to the altar of the church or temple was safe from his foe. So now,
that persecuted saint who takes refuge in the presence of God is in
"a little sanctuary." "In the time of trouble He shall hide me in His
tabernacle; yea, in the secret place of His dwelling shall He hide me."
(Ps. xxvii. 5.) "He shall defend thee under His wings, and thou shalt
be safe under His feathers." (Ps. xci. 4.) Safe in that sanctuary, and
hidden under those wings, we may bid defiance to Satan and all his
crew. The Lord shall fight for us, and we shall hold our peace. (Ex.
xiv. 14.)
Let us, then, go boldly forward in the race set before us; watchful
indeed and wary, but trusting in the power and love of our Captain, who
knows our temptations and trials far better than we ourselves. "In that
He Himself hath suffered being tempted, He is able to succor them that
are tempted." (Heb. ii. 18.) Let us cultivate sense of God's Presence.
Believe me, it is a thing to be cultivated. "If God be for us, who can
be against us?" His power is on our side so soon as our will is united
to His will by faith and an honest intention.
Let us always remember, for our comfort, that temptations are not
sins, else would our Lord not have been without sin. It is only when
our wills consent to them that they become so. "You cannot keep those
birds from flying over your head," said John Wesley to a young disciple
who asked for counsel on this subject, "but you can keep them from
making nests in your hair.", But never, "never" play or trifle with
temptation. Never willfully put yourself in its way. When you do, you
give Satan an advantage of which he is not slow to avail himself. It is
a story told by some author of antiquity that the devil once entered
into a young Christian woman who was present at a show of gladiators.
Being summoned to leave her, he refused, declaring that he had found
her on his ground, and she was therefore his lawful prey. We may face
all the hosts of hell when our Lord's business makes it needful, and
we may be sure that in doing so we have the Lord on our side; but if
we cross willfully the line between right and wrong in the pursuit of
pleasure or business, we have no right to think that God's presence
will go with us there. Nay, we should be careful not to approach that
line too closely. In time of war, the safe place is not near the front,
and above all not on the neutral ground between the armies. There we
shall probably be treated as the enemy of both sides. Let our abiding
be on the everlasting hills of God's truth and law, where His sun
always shines, and where no foe can ever come.
Ps. xci. 1 Peter v.
_FOURTH SATURDAY IN LENT._
_HEARTINESS._
IN the collect which we have been considering, we find an old-fashioned
word which means a great deal. We ask God to look upon our "hearty"
desires. A hearty desire is one into which we put our whole heart.
There may be many things which we would like well enough to have for
our own. There are many wishes which we should be pleased to have
gratified. But, after all, we do not care enough about them to make any
special effort in the matter. But when we heartily desire a thing, we
work for it. We take every means to bring about the gratification of
our wish, and we do not easily give up and sit down contented without
it.
It is so in religious matters. A careless or worldly man may have at
times an uneasy feeling that all is not right with him. He hears a
rousing sermon perhaps. Some friend or acquaintance dies suddenly,
and he wonders how he would fare if the same fate should overtake
himself. He thinks he really will take time to consider the matter at
some future day when he shall not be so busy. He even tries to pray a
little, though he does not know well how to set about it. But his heart
is not in the matter, and the impression soon passes away, leaving the
man in a worse case than before; for, be it observed, nothing hardens
the heart like a stifled conviction.
It is to be feared that this half-heartedness is the true reason why so
many prayers are unanswered, and why so many professed disciples of our
Lord have so little comfort in their religion, and do so little credit
to their profession. They are half-hearted. They have no earnestness
in the matter, and would even think such earnestness out of place, and
fanatical. They can show and feel enough of enthusiasm on the subject
of a business enterprise, a game of baseball, a new fashion, a new
opera-singer; but speak to such an one of enthusiasm in religious
matters, and he will look at you in amazement, and think you a little
cracked. He professes to believe all the articles of the Christian
faith, and bows his head in the creed with all propriety—in church; but
talk to him of Heaven and Hell, of the love of God, and the judgments
of God as present realities, and you make him uncomfortable. He becomes
conscious of his own deficiencies, and the feeling is not agreeable. He
will get away as soon he can, and probably call you a Methodist behind
your back, if he does not do so to your face.
This half-heartedness is a fatal hindrance to growth in grace. I fear
many pray for holy hearts, who would, after all, be sorry to have
them. A man prays for grace to cast away the works of darkness, but
there are, perhaps, certain works of darkness which are profitable in
a business point of view, and he has no desire to cast them away. A
woman asks that she may perceive and know what things she ought to do,
but she is conscious of certain duties half hidden in the background of
her mind and conscience, on which she does not care to be enlightened,
because the fulfilling of them would be inconvenient. She prays for
grace to withstand the world, but she does not really wish to withstand
it, because she loves some of its gifts, and does not mean to throw
them away. So people go on, trying to serve two masters, to please God
and themselves, and getting no real satisfaction from either. They
wonder what those mean who talk of the blessedness of service, of
communion with God, of comfort in affliction, and the like, and are
tempted to regard all such utterances either as fanaticism or pretence,
because there is nothing in their own experience to correspond with
them.
Is it any wonder that such prayers are not answered, and that such
service is not blessed? Would you like it yourself in a child or
servant? Surely not.
Let me beg of you, dear fellow-servant of our blessed Master, to
examine yourself in this matter, and see if you do not find therein the
reason why you have no more comfort in your religion; no more peace and
joy and readiness to work for Him who has wrought such great things
for us. Is the sign of the cross still on your forehead, or have the
kisses of the world worn it away? Do you really and truly "love" God as
you love your husband or children, if you have them? Are you ready to
sacrifice anything for Him? Suppose that He should offer to release you
at this moment from every sin, would you be willing to have Him do it?
This whole-hearted service no doubt has its trials. Our Lord Himself
has told us that. "All that would live godly in Jesus Christ shall
suffer persecution." (2 Tim. iii. 12.) "If they have called the master
of the house Beelzebub, how much more shall they call them of His
household?" (St. Matt. x. 25.) You cannot be faithful to the great
King without offending His enemies. You cannot really renounce the
world without angering the world. You may not have to meet with such
persecutions as the early disciples did, but you will probably be
called peculiar, affected, Methodistical. But fear nothing. You may,
and probably will, meet with even more serious assaults. Satan will
rage when he sees you in earnest, and try his best to bar your path,
or win you away from it. But again I say, never fear. The Lord is on
your side, and will stretch out His right hand to be your defense.
He will feed you with the hidden manna, and give you to drink of the
water of Life freely. You shall receive the mystical gift; the white
stone wherein is a name written, which no man knoweth saving he that
receiveth it. (Rev. ii. 17.) Passing through the valley of misery, you
shall use it for a well. The wilderness of this world shall blossom as
the rose, and the thorny road lead you surely to the city of the great
King.
Isa. xii. Rev. ii.
_FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT._
_REFRESHMENT._
MID-LENT Sunday is also called Refreshment Sunday—a very old name,
probably given with reference to the subject of the Gospel for the
day, which is the feeding of the five thousand on the lake of Galilee.
Dr. Gouldburn, in his invaluable book on the collects, has shown the
connection between the collect, Epistle, and Gospel for the day, all of
which are full of matter for reflection. Let us for the present confine
our attention to the Gospel, and try, by reverent consideration, to
make real to ourselves this wonderful miracle of our Lord's, and see
what lesson it has for us.
It had been a time of special activity for our Lord and His more
immediate followers. The apostles had just returned from their first
preaching mission. Two by two, they had passed through the lands of
Judah and Galilee, preaching the glad tidings of the Kingdom of Heaven,
healing the sick, restoring the deaf and blind, and casting out evil
spirits in the name of Jesus. I think of two homely, travel-stained
men arriving at nightfall, perhaps, in some lonely little village, and
asking the hospitality which was not at such a time likely to be denied
them. There is nothing about them to distinguish them from any common
wayfarers, as they partake of the plain fare set before them. But there
is a cloud over the faces of the hosts. The elder son, the prop of
their age, lies on a bed of sickness, and the physician has said that
there is no release for him save by death. The guests rise and go to
the bedside of the sufferer, who is perhaps hardly conscious of their
presence, and one of them takes him by the hand.
"In the name of Jesus of Nazareth, I bid thee arise and walk."
In a moment the dull eyes brighten, the pale cheek flushes, the
helpless limbs feel new life, and the young man rises, and throws aside
the useless covering, a well man. The amazing news spreads from house
to house, and soon the whole village is gathered to hear and see these
wonderful strangers. A woman, weeping over her dead babe, hears the
news, and thinks—
"Oh, had they but come before my child died!"
Then a strange ray of hope darts into her mind. The strangers have
cured one as good as dead. May they perhaps waken the dead also? At all
events, it will do no harm to ask them. She wraps herself in her veil,
and goes forth bearing the little waxen corpse, and returns with her
child safe and smiling in her arms.
Many such stories must the apostles have had to relate to their Master
on their return; some tales, possibly, of rejection and scorn from
those they would have blest.
But their meeting was destined to be interrupted by sad tidings. The
disciples of John the Baptist had heard of the death of their leader,
slain by the wiles of a vile woman. They had been permitted by Herod to
pay the last sad duties to his body, and that done there was one thing
more remaining to them. They "went and told Jesus." Where could they
go, save to that wonderful Being to whom their own revered leader had
borne witness, and whose forerunner he had always called himself? We
are not told in what words He comforted them. But we know how He showed
His consideration for their weariness. "Come ye apart into a desert
place, and rest awhile." (S. Mark vi. 31.)
I have often thought, if I were to preach an Ash Wednesday sermon, I
would choose these words for my text. It is the call which the Church
addresses to her children on that day: "Come!" she says. "Come from
the hurry of business, and the worse and more distracting hurry of
pleasure. Leave your cares behind you for a time. Let the world take
care of itself. It will do well enough without you, as it did before
you were born, and will do after you are dead. Come into a desert place
as yet unspoiled by man, and rest awhile."
We are apt to think of a desert as a barren and sandy waste, destitute
of verdure or beauty; but this is not its usual meaning in the Bible.
It simply denotes an uncultivated tract, often used as pasture, and
covered with grass and flowers in the season. It was to such a place
as this that Jesus now retired with the disciples; to the narrow green
plain of El Batihah, as it is now called. It was a spot about six miles
from Capernaum by sea, surrounded by high hills, and quite uninhabited.
Here the weary band might hope for a season of quiet and refreshment.
But they were destined to be disappointed. The boat, retarded probably
by contrary winds, seems to have made but slow progress, and when they
did at last arrive, they found the ground occupied by an eager crowd,
waiting for the healer, of whose powers they had already made proof.
Here was a disappointment indeed! But our Lord shewed no irritation at
the failure of His plan. He "was moved with compassion toward them,
because they were as sheep not having a shepherd; and He began to teach
them many things" (St. John vi. 34), and He also healed their sick.
Here is at once a practical lesson to be learned from our Lord's
conduct—I mean that of patience under interruption and disappointment.
We make a plan, for some good enterprise probably, and straightway that
plan becomes, as it were, something sacred in our eyes, and we are not
only grieved, but vexed, if anything happens to hinder us. We feel in
our secret souls, if we do not venture to say so, that we are hardly
treated, and we are ready to say, nay, perhaps we do say, that we will
never undertake any such thing again.
In truth, there are interruptions which it is hard to bear with
patience; for instance, the way in which idle people take up the time
of busy people with the veriest trifles.
Yet all these things are part of our life's trials, and must be met
in the right spirit, and turned to some account. In respect to our
plans, the right way, it seems to me, is to sit loosely to them, with a
reference in all things to a Will higher than ours. "If the Lord will,
we shall do this or that." (St. James iv. 15.) If He takes us away from
one piece of work, it may be because He has something better or more
important for us to do; or that His wisdom sees that this particular
work is better left undone. If your plan has been made with due regard
to His glory, depend upon it He will not suffer it to fail utterly.
With regard to those interruptions from idle people of which I have
spoken, we may be able to turn even them to account. We may try to give
the conversation a serious and profitable turn. We may have a chance of
defending the absent or the calumniated, or of recommending some good
work. At worst we can let patience have her perfect work, and thus grow
more like that Master whom it is at once our most important work and
our dearest wish to imitate.
Ex. xvii. St. John vi. 1-21.
_FOURTH MONDAY IN LENT._
_REFRESHMENT SUNDAY—Continued._
ALL day long our Lord was engaged in teaching the people, and in
healing their sick. The fact that he did so teach this great multitude
of common people, and that they heard Him gladly, as we know they did
(St. Mark xii. 37), is surely a sufficient answer to those who talk
about the danger of giving the Scriptures to the unlearned. Meantime
the disciples no doubt were reposing as they shared in their Lord's
instructions, and witnessed His miracles. But as the afternoon of
that long spring day drew on to its close they began to be uneasy.
They looked abroad over the vast multitude thronging the plain, and
wondered how they were to be fed and lodged, "for divers of them came
from afar," and there were women and children among them, some of
whom, no doubt, had just been cured of severe illness. We can see them
consulting together with anxious faces, and many a troubled glance at
the Master, and at last they venture to remind Him of the lateness of
the hour, and the loneliness of the place where they were. "This is a
desert place and the time is far spent; send them away, that they may
buy food." (St. Mark vi. 36.) But the Lord had his own purposes to
fulfill, and he answered them tranquilly, "They need not depart; give
ye them to eat;" and then, as if their astonishment were not enough at
such a proposition under such circumstances, He turns to Philip with
the question, "Whence shall we buy bread, that these may eat?"
Philip must have been indeed amazed at the question. Buy bread for
that great crowd of people! True, there was a market not so very far
away, in the little city of Bethsaida Julius, but it might be doubtful
whether so small a place could furnish the requisite quantity of bread,
even if they had the means to pay for it. "Two hundred pennyworth is
not sufficient for them, that every one of them might take a little;"
and one of the number asks, "Shall we go and buy bread?"
Andrew, whose natural disposition seems to have been of that helpful
sort which always moves the owner thereof to do something practical,
here makes a suggestion. While others had been talking he had been
investigating the resources at hand, and he now comes forward leading
a little boy, and announces the result of his inquiries. "There is a
lad here who has five barley loaves and two small fishes." (St. John
vi. 9.) With what amazed looks his fellow-disciples must have regarded
him! Only five loaves and two fishes! He himself was conscious of the
seeming absurdity, for he added immediately, "What are they among so
many?" What, indeed! Hardly enough for two, and here were thousands.
But as the disciples regarded our Lord's face they must have been in
some measure reassured. There was no embarrassment or uncertainty to be
read there. He Himself knew what He would do, as His next words showed
them: "Make the men sit down." Here, at least, was a plain, practical
command, and cheerfully they hastened to obey.
In all our perplexities and puzzles we can usually find something to do
at once, and that something leads to something else, till by degrees
the way is made plain before us. The old Saxon motto, "Do the next
thing," is the guide out of many a difficulty. "How are we ever to fill
this box?" said one of the officers of a certain missionary auxiliary;
"we have only money enough to buy half a dozen towels." "Very well, let
us buy the towels," was the answer; "by the time they are hemmed we
shall have more." And so it proved; and a better box never gladdened a
hard-working woman than was sent to that faithful teacher.
A poor woman in England once gave a few shillings, the result of long
saving, to purchase some Bibles for the poor; and out of that gift
grew one of the great Bible societies which supply the Scriptures to
hundreds of thousands. A few serious words, kindly spoken to a wild
young man in a diligence, gave to the Moravian Church one of the most
successful missionaries that ever lived. Let us use what we have. It
may be not so much as the little lad brought in his basket, but the
Master will accept it and use it; whether it be to the feeding of one
or ten thousand does not signify, so it is to His service. Let us take
the first step in obedience to His command, and the next step will
be made plain. It may be but a short one, but it will be so much in
advance. Like the pilgrim in the valley of the shadow of death, when we
lift up our foot to go forward, we may not know where, or upon what we
may set it next; but be sure the solid ground will be there to meet it,
so long as we are in the way of the Celestial City.
1 Kings xvii. Acts xvii. 16.
_FOURTH TUESDAY IN LENT._
_REFRESHMENT SUNDAY—Continued._
"NOW there was much grass in the place." So the men sat down in orderly
ranks or companies—an arrangement made by our Lord's own command, that
they might be the more easily waited upon. The word used by St. Mark
signifies parterres, or the orderly arrangement of the plants in a
vineyard or garden, and the assembly, dressed in the gay colors which
Orientals affect, must have looked somewhat like a great flower-garden.
Doubtless, all faces were eagerly turned toward our Lord, as the people
wondered what was coming next. The disciples gathered round their
Master, amazed, no doubt, but ready to obey His order, whatever it
might be and near Him, perhaps, stood the little lad who had brought
the provision, his eyes fixed on that face which ever had an attraction
for children. Jesus took in His hands the cakes of barley bread, "and
when He had given thanks, He brake them, and began to distribute them
to the disciples, and they to the people, and likewise of the fishes,
as much as they would." (St. John vi. 11.) The original words seem to
show that the provisions were multiplied in our Lord's hands. Here was
a sudden end of all their perplexities. Here was enough and to spare,
of palatable and wholesome food.
It must have been with glad hearts, that the twelve, aided, no doubt,
by the disciples of John, passed around among the people bearing the
unexpected refreshment. Doubtless the multitude shared in their joy for
many of them were far from their homes; and the prospect of returning
hungry, or possibly of spending the night supperless in the open air,
could not have been very agreeable. It is no great wonder, perhaps,
that as they partook of His bounty, the old idea of making the Lord
a temporal ruler should have recurred to their minds. Surely one who
could so wonderfully provide for his followers would have no difficulty
in defying the power even of the Romans. It was long before the Lord's
immediate and trusted disciples realized the fact that His kingdom was
not of this world.
But the people had eaten all they needed. What next? The next command
must also have somewhat surprised both the disciples and the people.
"Gather up the fragments, that nothing be lost." Why this exact economy
on the part of one who could, as they had just seen, produce food at
will? However, the disciples obeyed without a question, and soon they
had filled twelve of the satchels, which all strict Jews carried when
on a journey (to protect their food from ceremonial uncleanness), with
the fragments which remained of the loaves and fishes. And now their
work was for the present finished. Jesus would be alone for a time; and
he dismissed His immediate followers to go to the other side of the
lake, while He Himself sent the multitude away. The disciples seemed to
have been somewhat unwilling to leave their Lord alone, but His will
was law, and they betook themselves to the boat which had brought them
hither.
When the multitude had at last departed, doubtless with many a
lingering look behind, He who had so cheerfully given up His own
plan of rest and retirement for the sake of teaching and feeding
them, departed into a mountain to pray. At last He was alone; and
how grateful to His weary senses must have been the solemn quiet and
dewy freshness of that mountain solitude! How dear to His heart the
opportunity of holding undisturbed communion with His Father! Dear
tired mother or teacher, or busy housekeeper, are your senses also
weary and your nerves unstrung with perpetual din? Do you, too, long
for solitude and silence? Remember that the Lord has been before you
in this trial also. The most of His active life was passed in a crowd,
almost always careless and unsympathizing, often captious and hostile;
and His hours of devotion must be stolen from needed sleep.
"Each pang from irritation, turmoil, din,—"
is known to Him, and He will give needed help and relief.
Our Lord gave thanks before He distributed the bread to the disciples.
This was an universal custom among the Jews, and the Lord has approved
it by His example. "He who enjoys anything without a blessing, robs
God," says the Talmud. Yet how many Christian families are there in
which grace before meat is never heard. It looks a little, indeed, as
if family religion, of any sort, were to become a thing of the past.
The father hastens to his business, and the children to their school,
without one word of recognition for the mercies of the night; without
a single petition for help and guidance through the day. The father
is, or should be, the priest of his own household, to offer up their
spiritual sacrifices; but how many never think of doing so! He should
be their instructor in divine things; but how many never open the
Bible with their children! The boys see their father busy till the
last stroke of the church bell with his Sunday papers; they see the
same papers or a novel taken up on his return. Is it any wonder that
they come to think religion a matter of secondary importance? Is it
any wonder that they think it fit only for women, since they see its
outward observance left wholly to them? Oh, how many thorns are these
negligent, indifferent Christian fathers and mothers cultivating for
their own pillows! It is true that a boy or girl may turn out badly,
however much pains has been taken with the religious training, because
in this world all must make the choice between good and evil for
themselves; but at least the careful, conscientious parent has not the
added bitter pang of thinking "my neglect, my selfish indulgence, has
made the child what he is."
"Gather up the fragments," said our Lord. He could create at will
enough to feed five thousand, yet He would not have the remainder lost.
With what displeasure must He not look on the lavish wastefulness of
His children. Some man takes a good religious paper, or more than one.
Perhaps he finds time to glance at them, perhaps not. The expenditure
of a cent a week, or the sending of a child or servant, would carry
that paper to some poor man or woman—perhaps to some one shut up with
illness—who would be only too glad to read it. But no one thinks
of that, and what might give aid and comfort to God's afflicted or
hard-worked child goes to the ragman. The partly worn hose or flannel
garment share the same fate, when a little of the time given to some
useless bit of fancy work would make them fit to bestow on some poor
body, or to help out a hospital box. I knew a lady with a family of
sons. When their socks or underwear were thrown aside, she had them
carefully mended and put away in a special place; and many a poor
hard-working woman was helped out of Mrs. Z.'s "give-away drawer." We
have no right to waste, because all that we have, whether of time or
goods or talent, is not ours, but our Lord's. We are but His stewards,
and it is required of stewards that a man be found faithful.
Prov. xxxi. St. Luke xiv.
_FIFTH WEDNESDAY IN LENT._
_COMFORT._
A CERTAIN writer has said that there is no more beautiful word in
the language than the word "comfort." Certainly there is none which
carries with it more meanings, or one which it is harder to define.
Rest from weariness, freedom from pain, security from danger, all
these are comprised in the word "comfort." But these are, after all,
but negative, and there is a positive side. The word often means
consolation. "As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort
you," is God's promise to His people. (Isa. lxvi. 13.) Think of a
little child waking in the dark, from some dream of terror. The
darkness is all around him, with its possibilities of danger. Who knows
what it may hide in those dark corners, behind those dimly seen, waving
curtains? He can feel no one near him. To his excited fancy it seems as
if he were alone in the universe, and he cries out in fear and anguish.
But in a moment a tender arm is laid over him, a warm kiss reassures
him, a well-known voice speaks his name, and he sinks to sleep again,
sure that no evil thing can harm him, because his mother is there to be
his defense.
So it often is with the Christian. He walks in the midst of trouble.
Darkness is around and within. His purposes are broken off; his
plans even for his Master's service are frustrated, and, what seems
to make his trouble worst of all, he is hampered by indifference,
if not by open hostility on the part of fellow-Christians and
fellow-church-members. He says to himself, with David, "It is not
an enemy that hath done me this dishonor; but it was even thou, my
companion, my guide, and mine own familiar friend." He feels almost as
if His Lord Himself had forgotten him, and he is ready to sit down in
despair.
But by and by a ray of light falls athwart the darkness. It is the hour
for his regular devotion, and he will not neglect it. His heart feels
cold and dead, if not absolutely rebellious, but at least he can obey,
and he takes up his Bible or his prayer-book, opens perhaps to the
thirty-seventh Psalm, or some other like it.
He reads precious promises of help and protection, and deliverance
from trouble, such as these. "Commit thy way unto the Lord, and put
thy trust in Him, and He shall bring it to pass. He shall make thy
righteousness as clear as the light and thy just dealing as the
noon-day." (Ps. xxxvii. 5.) He is made to see that he is but tasting
the edge, as it were, of that cup which his Master drained to the dregs
for him. He feels that God has not forsaken him, and he is by and by
able to say, "In the multitude of the sorrows that I had in my heart,
Thy comforts have refreshed my soul." The assurance comes to him that
the Lord will use all to His own glory and the good of His servant, and
he is content to tarry the Lord's leisure.
Or take another case. The Christian is made aware that he has fallen
into sin. He has spoken unadvisedly with his lips perhaps, and fears
that his words may do great harm. He has given way to unjust or
excessive anger, or he has been led into some worldly compliance which
he now sees to have been wrong. Or, worse still, he has suddenly
awakened to the fact that he has for a long time been declining in
godliness, that he has been living for the world and not for his
Master. He has gone out of the way into By-path meadow, and the road,
which at first seemed to run close to the highway, has turned aside
till he has come at least within sight of the dwelling of Giant
Despair. Satan is not slow to take advantage of his fall. He tells the
sinner that it is plain to be seen that he never was a true disciple.
Could one who had really tasted of the grace of God so dishonor his
profession? Or if he were once a child of God, is it not as plain as
day that he is so no longer? Has he not come too far out of the way
ever to find his path back? Will he be received even if he should
return? Is this the return he has made to God for all his benefits, and
can such black ingratitude ever be forgiven? Such suggestions as these
drive the sinner almost to desperation. Almost, but not quite. His
very agony and distress teach him how precious was that Lord from whom
he has turned away, and he will not give him up without a struggle at
least.
But he is not left to struggle alone. God has not forgotten His child,
though that child may for a time have forgotten Him. He may leave him,
or seem to leave him, to suffer for a time the penalty of his sins;
for as many as the Lord loves, He rebukes and chastises. But let the
sinner once accept the punishment of his iniquity (Lev. xxvi. 41);
let him acknowledge that he is justly punished for his offenses, as
says the collect for the day, and light begins to dawn on the night of
despair. He, too, opens his Bible, and he reads such words as these,
"Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow." (Isa.
i. 18) "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us
our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." (1 John i. 9.)
"Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out." (St. John vi.
37.) And so he casts himself at the feet of his crucified Lord, humbly
bewailing his sinfulness, and asking pardon for the sake of that very
love that he has outraged and grieved. Humbly he believes his prayer is
accepted, trusting in God's unchanging promise, though he has for the
present no evidence in his own feelings that his sins are pardoned. By
and by the light grows clearer. He hears within a sweet voice, sweeter
than any music of earth, whisper such precious words as these: "I,
even I, am He that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake,
and will not remember thy sins." (Isa. xliii. 25.) Then the Sun of
righteousness riseth on His soul with healing in His wings, and it is
day.
Ps. xxxii. St. John xvii.
_FIFTH THURSDAY IN LENT._
_THE SOURCES OF COMFORT._
THE first source of comfort to the disciple in distress is his general
confidence in the goodness of his Lord. "Comfort them with a sense of
Thy goodness!" asks the collect for the sick and the afflicted in the
prayer-book; and there is not in that whole wonderful volume a sentence
more full of meaning. "My Father is all-wise, therefore He cannot make
a mistake; He is perfectly holy, therefore He cannot do an unjust
thing; He is perfect love, therefore He will never do a cruel thing;
and He sees and cares for me as much as if I were the only child for
whom He had to care." Thoughts like these come to the pilgrim, bowed
down by the burden and heat of the day; and they give him courage to
take up his load and struggle on toward that rest which remains for the
people of God—that mansion prepared for him, and whose roofs and towers
his faith sees above the clouds, gleaming in Heaven's own sunshine. To
souls like this it does indeed come to pass that, going through the
valley of misery, they use it for a well, and the pools are filled
with water. "Their light affliction, which is for a moment, worketh
for them a far more exceeding weight of glory," because "they look not
at the things which are seen, but at those things which are unseen and
eternal." (2 Cor. iv. 17.)
The second source of comfort to the Christian which we shall consider
is the written word of God. "In the Lord's word will I comfort me."
(Ps. lvi. 10.) Here is the sure holding-ground for the anchor of faith.
Our feelings are the sport of every wind that blows, but the written
word remains, and remains ever the same. The stricken woman whose prop
and stay has been taken away, perhaps in a moment, and who knows not
where to turn for help, may read in that Word that God is the God of
the fatherless, and defendeth the cause of the widow. (Ps. lxviii. 5.)
The invalid, wearied out with the life-long pain, which has become
such an old story that people no longer think of asking about it, who
feels faith ready to fail, and courage to give way under the load, to
such an one comes the message, "My grace is sufficient for thee, for my
strength is made perfect in weakness." (2 Cor. xii. 9.) The aged saint
bowed beneath the burden of years, perhaps with no child or near friend
to support his weakness and bear with his infirmities, prays, "Forsake
me not when I am gray-headed" (Ps. lxxi. 16), and the Word which
supplies the prayer answers it with a corresponding promise, "Even
to your old age I am He; and even to hoary hairs will I carry you."
(Is. xlvi. 4.) The repentant, all but despairing sinner, is told by
that very righteous and holy God whom he hath so grievously offended,
"I, even I, am He that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own
sake, and will not remember thy sins." (Is. xliv. 22.) And again, "The
blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin." (1 John i. 7.) The
backslider reads, "I will heal their backslidings; I will love them
freely." (Hosea xiv. 4.) And to the child of God, striving in meekness
and faithfulness to follow in the steps of his Lord and Master, and to
do his commonplace, every task for Him, the words of cheer and strength
are not to be counted.
The worship and ordinances of the Church are perennial springs of help
and cheer to the Christian. I appeal to your experience, faithful
fellow-disciples. How many times, when it has perhaps been a great
effort to go to church, has not the very stillness of the place fallen
like balm on your tired nerves, so that your few minutes of mental
prayer have made you able to realize that you are indeed in the
presence of Him who has said, "When two or three are gathered together,
there am I in the midst of them"! (Matt. xviii. 20.) How often has the
Psalter or the lesson contained the very words you needed! How often
has the sermon or address been just what you wanted, and the whole
service sent you home strengthened and cheerful to take up the burden
of the week or the day! Then there is the crown of all our services—the
Holy Communion. We "do not feel like going," perhaps. We have had but
little time for preparation. There has been much in the week to harass
and perplex us. Perhaps some slip or fall has clouded our experience,
and burdened our conscience. But we know our duty, and at least we can
obey. We carry our burden, whatever it may be, into the presence of the
symbols of our Lord's dying love; perhaps to the very altar rail; but
when we rise from our knees, we find we have left it there.
Isa. lxv. 2 Cor. 1.
_FIFTH FRIDAY IN LENT._
_THE GREAT CONSOLER._
"THE Comforter which is the Holy Ghost." The third Person of the
ever-blessed Trinity does not disdain to take the title and office of
our consoler, as well as that of our teacher and guide. He does not
disdain to enter the lowest dwelling which is open to receive Him, nor
to hold communion with the youngest and feeblest who seek His aid. It
is He who opens our heart to understand the Scriptures, who directs
us to the very word we need, who shows us, in some passage we have
read a hundred times, a new meaning which we never saw before. It is
He who inspires our prayers, and He, when our hearts are too burdened
for words, makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be
uttered. (Rom. viii. 26.) How are we to obtain the help of this Divine
Comforter? First, by asking for it. That is one of the prayers certain
to be answered, whatever is refused. "If ye, then, being evil, know how
to give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your Heavenly
Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him"! (St. Luke xi. 18.)
The very greatest gift of all is never refused to the poorest suppliant.
Then, when we have invited our guest, we must make our house ready to
receive Him. We must open the door and be on the watch for Him. We must
remember, too, that He will never share a divided throne. If we are
entertaining any impure or unworthy guests—if we have set up any idols
there—if there is within any chamber of imagery where we pay secret
worship, as did the elders of Israel whom Ezekiel saw in his vision
(Ezek. viii. 7), the guests must be turned out, the idols overthrown,
the secret chamber opened to the light of God's day, before the Spirit
of purity will make our heart His shrine. He Himself will purify His
own temple if we consent thereto, but we must be willing, and we must
have no reserves from Him.
Again, we must be willing to obey His godly motions, as the collect
has it, and that with a prompt and willing obedience. This is not
always easy or agreeable. One of His offices is to convince of sin, of
righteousness, and of judgment to come. He does not always prophecy
smooth things, by any means, nor does he always apply sweet balms. On
the contrary, He is a kind but stern surgeon, who wounds to heal, and
gives bitter tonics instead of soothing syrups. It is not altogether
pleasant to be told that some favorite habit is a sinful indulgence;
that some yielding to the customs of society is conformity to the
world; some laxity of doctrine, on which we have perhaps prided
ourselves as showing our liberality, is a cowardly surrender of
God's truth. Nevertheless must the Heavenly monitor be obeyed, and
that promptly. Otherwise His voice will grow fainter and fainter and
fainter, till it ceases to be heard at all. Nay, it is possible to
drive away the Heavenly visitor altogether, and then woe unto us. We
had better lose every earthly friend than to be forsaken of the Holy
Spirit.
It is to be feared that many Christians do not realize as they ought
the blessed fact of the real literal indwelling of the Holy Ghost.
They read in the Bible such words as these: "He dwelleth with you, and
shall be in you." (St. John xiv. 17.) "We have received not the spirit
of the world, but the Spirit which is of God." (1 Cor. ii. 12.) They
feel as if it were a kind of presumption to take these promises to
themselves—as if the real presumption did not lie in doubting, instead
of believing God's word. They read such words as these: "The spirit
itself beareth witness with our spirits that we are the children of
God." (Rom. viii. 16.) Yet they feel no assurance of their adoption,
but go through life, as it were, with a rope round their necks instead
of walking freely as God's children should, for "where the Spirit of
the Lord is, there is liberty." (1 Cor. iii. 17.)
But some one says: "I should be only too glad to obtain this blessed
assurance of salvation, but I do not know how. What is the way?" The
way is as plain as are all God's ways in things of practical importance
to us. You have but to put out your hand and take what is freely
offered you.
A vessel sailing to Brazil once saw a barque flying a signal of
distress, and bearing down on her, asked what was the matter. "For
God's sake, give us water! we have not had a drop for three days," was
the cry from the distressed vessel. The answer was instant. "Let down
your bucket and draw it up, man! You are in the mouth of the Amazon."
These poor creatures had been dying of thirst for three days, though
they were sailing on the greatest stream of fresh water in the world,
because they had lost their reckoning and did not know where they
were. So it too often is with the disciple. He walks in the midst of
unnumbered blessings. The stream of living water flows at his side;
the tree of Life grows beside it; yet he is hungry and thirsty, just
because he will not take the things which are freely offered of God.
"If ye will not believe, surely ye shall not be established." (Isa.
vii. 9.)
Ps. lxiii. Gal. v.
_FIFTH SATURDAY IN LENT._
_THE USE OF COMFORT._
"SURELY there can be no question about that!" I hear some one say.
"The use of comfort is to make people comfortable." That is one
use, no doubt, but not the only nor the principal one. It is to be
feared, however, that many sincerely devout people take this view of
the matter. In spiritual as in worldly matters we are prone to think
far too much of our own enjoyment. Some good people, indeed, measure
their spiritual condition by their enjoyment. If they are happy, they
think all is well with them. This is not always a safe test. We may be
glorying in a very mistaken estimate of our own spiritual condition, as
did the Corinthian Church, when St. Paul wrote them. "Your glorying is
not good." They were mightily puffed up in their own esteem, while they
were tolerating among them the vilest sins, such as even the idolatrous
Gentiles were ashamed of. (1 Cor. v. 1-8.)
The use of comfort is to strengthen us for the work which God gives us
to do. "The God of all comfort comforteth us in all our tribulation,"
writes St. Paul; and why? "That we may be able to comfort them which
are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted
of God." (2 Cor. i. 3, 4.) We are comforted that we may be able to
console others, just as we are taught in order that we may teach others.
Dear fellow-sufferer, if in your sick-room your Lord has sent you a
blessing, cannot you contrive to send that blessing on to some other
sufferer? He has sent you, let us say, a cheering message by a book
or paper. Can you not pass it on to some one else? He has given you a
cheering thought. Can you not give a friend or attendant the benefit
of it? Some one brings you a pattern for embroidery or knitting. It
will do you all the more good if you use it to make a Christmas gift
for some other invalid who does not enjoy as many pretty things as
yourself. A lady of my acquaintance once received from a wealthy and
generous friend a box of very fine forced strawberries. She sent a
part of them to an old lady in a charitable institution, whose failing
appetite could hardly be tempted to take food at all. The sight of a
dish of strawberries in March was such a wonder that it led her to
eat quite a good meal; and a year afterwards she spoke with delight
of "those beautiful berries your mother sent me." I mention this as a
specimen of the way a kindness may be passed on. I believe that act of
thoughtful kindness prolonged for several years a useful life.
There are those who carry an atmosphere of comfort with them wherever
they go. They may not be very brilliant or very accomplished, but every
one is glad to see them. They have something pleasant to say. Such a
person does not tell a rheumatic patient of her grandmother who was
unable to feed herself for years, or suggest to one suffering from a
surgical operation that people in such circumstances almost always go
into a decline. (I have known of these very things being done more than
once.) I once suffered for several months from the effects of a cat's
bite, and I suppose that more than half the people to whom the story
was told said, "I should think you would be afraid of hydrophobia!"
With a nervous or apprehensive person the effect might have been
serious. Oh how many heartaches and tears would be saved to invalids,
if those who visit them would try to think of something pleasant and
cheering to say!
God sends us comfort, not that we may sit down and selfishly, enjoy it,
but that we may be strengthened for the work which is still before us,
whether that work be active doing, or patient suffering, or quietly
waiting on His will. Comfort is not an end, but a means, and it is much
more likely to last if we use it in this way, than if we sit idly down
to enjoy it. The Lord gives to all his children blessed seasons of rest
and enjoyment. As the twenty-third Psalm says, He makes them to lie
down in green pastures, and feedeth them by still waters. But He does
not always keep us there. He sets before them many a hill to climb,
many a dark valley to pass through, before we reach the land of Beulah,
and the Celestial city. But the Holy Ghost, which is the comforter,
will always abide with us, and we can truly say "In the multitude of
sorrows which I had in my heart, Thy comforts have refreshed my soul."
(Ps. xciv. 19.)
Ps. xxxvii. Heb. xii.
_FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT._
_THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD._
IT has been said, and I think truly, that almost any government is
better than none. A good government is an unspeakable blessing—not
always appreciated, I fear, by those who have never lived under any
other. Think for a moment what it is to dwell under a rule where every
one's rights are safe; where no one can be punished, except openly,
and by due process of law; where every poor man's house is his castle;
where, amid the excitement of a hotly contested election, women and
children walk the streets in absolute safety: and then contrast this
state of things with one in which no man, great or small, feels himself
secure; where any man or woman may be torn from home and friends and
thrown into prison or sent into life-long exile, with no chance of
redress, and knowing that the nearest and dearest friends are utterly
ignorant of the fate of husband or wife, father or mother. It seems to
me a pity that those who complain so bitterly of the few abuses of a
good and free government, should not for a little while try the tender
mercies of a bad one.
The best government, however, being as it is the work of man, is liable
to imperfection in its constitution, or abuse in its administration.
How happy, then, is he who lives under a ruler who can and will do
no wrong. Such a ruler is the Lord our Governor. The best of earthly
governments can only legislate for classes, and even beneficent laws
often bear hardly on individuals; but God's rule is that of a father,
who sees in each person not only a subject, but a child; who knows the
needs of each one better than himself, and who grudges His children no
innocent pleasure. Is it any wonder that the Church teaches us to pray
for the rule of such a sovereign as a blessing?
In translating this collect from the Latin original, the reformers
have substituted the words "Thy people" for "Thy family," thinking,
probably, that the word corresponded better with the idea of
government. But, after all, a family needs a stable and just government
as much as a state, and it is as a family that the Lord rules his
people. The state lays down an inflexible rule, to which every citizen
is expected to conform; but a wise parent does not act in this way. She
studies the disposition of each child, and has a different system for
each one, corresponding to its temperament and needs. So it is with
God's government. To Him there are no "masses." He does not drive His
flock like a mercenary drover, but "He calleth His own sheep by name
and leadeth them out." (St. John x. 3.) He is to each one what He is
to no other. "To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden
manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name
written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it." (Rev. ii.
17.)
The state punishes offenses against the laws with rigid severity, and
very rightly. The security of the honest citizen demands such action.
But it has no thanks and no praise for the obedient and loyal subject.
He has but done what was expected of him. The loyal subject of God's
government, on the contrary, has the satisfaction of knowing that his
ruler sees his obedience, and is gratified with it. Like Enoch, he has
this testimony, that he has pleased God. God notes the first effort
of a little child as well as the crowning sacrifice of an Abraham,
and rewards the poor negro Sunday-school teacher, trying in imperfect
English to tell the little he knows about God and the Bible to some
one more ignorant than himself, as He does a St. Paul preaching to the
polished Athenians on Mars Hill. Surely there must be, to the believer,
wonderful joy and strength in the thought that what he does gives
pleas—to his Heavenly Father.
There is no escaping from the government of God. A man who is
dissatisfied with the rule of the United States, or who by crime
or misdemeanor has brought himself within reach of its penalties,
may go and live somewhere else; but there is no getting out of this
universe, which God rules in every corner. Neither can he escape by
denying God's authority, or making light of His claims. The earthly
commonwealth admits no such excuse; much less the Heavenly. The man
may rebel furiously. He may wish that it were possible even to pull
down the great Ruler from His throne. It makes no difference. He has no
choice but to submit at last, but he "has" the choice as to whether his
submission shall be that of the criminal on his way to the scaffold, or
the glad obedience of the loving child who has full confidence in his
father's justice and love.
Ps. xcvii. Phil. i.
_FIFTH MONDAY IN LENT._
_CÆSAR'S HOUSEHOLD._
THE Lord's government, as we have seen, is that of a parent, in that
He legislates, not for masses, but for individuals; and His object,
in all that He does and leaves undone, is to make His children better
and in the long run happier. The views and plans of the wisest parent
are necessarily bounded by a very limited horizon, but the Lord sees
the lives of His children from their first beginning—not indeed to the
end, for there is no end, but to the farthest reach of eternity—and
He legislates for them in "the whole of their duration," as President
Edwards has it. It is perhaps for this reason, speaking with reverence,
that Christians often find themselves in about the last places they
themselves would have chosen as likely to conduce to growth in grace.
We are apt to fret at this, and to think we could do somewhere else.
We think if we could only attend such and such a church, or live in
some other place, or attend such and such classes, we could do so much
better; and, very possibly, we neglect the work that God has given us
for something which is not our work at all.
There is a passage in the Epistle to the Philippians which at first
sight may appear to mean very little, but which seems to me very
suggestive. St. Paul, writing from his prison at Rome to the church at
Philippi, says, "All the saints salute you, chiefly they that are of
Cæsar's household." (Phil. iv. 22.)
Surely this was a very strange place in which to look for saints—about
the last place, humanly speaking, in which we should be likely to find
them. The Cæsar was Nero—a name which has become a synonym for lust,
cruelty, and rampant folly of every kind; and his court was just what
we should expect the court of such an emperor to be. It was the very
central resort of informers, men and women practiced in every namable
and un-namable wickedness of that vile age. One would as soon have
looked for the bliss of Paradise in the foulest Pool of Dante's hell,
as for saints in such a household, especially when the profession of
the Christian faith involved no little danger to liberty and life. The
persecution of Christians had not at that time reached the height to
which it attained afterwards; nevertheless, every Christian was looked
upon with suspicion and contempt. Their great teacher and apostle was a
prisoner, chained night and day to a soldier who watched him, and his
imprisonment was more than likely to end in an ignominious death. Yet,
in spite of these opposing circumstances, there were saints in Cæsar's
household, and, it would seem, not a few.
It seems to me that we may all learn a good lesson from this short
passage. We are so apt to lay our shortcomings to the account
of circumstances, which is, in fact, laying them at the door of
Providence. "If I were not so much engrossed in business," says John.
"If I had not so many family cares," says Jane, "I might do some Church
work." "There is no pleasure in going to church and Bible class here,"
says another. "If I only lived in the city! We cannot expect to do
much in a place like this," I heard a Christian man say. "If we had a
first-class preacher and a good quartette choir we might do something."
As if the gift of the Holy Spirit depended on a fine preacher and a
fine choir! But we do more than this: we lay upon circumstances the
blame of our own heart sins. We should not be irritable and fretful,
only that there is so much to annoy us. We should not make unkind
remarks and tell scandalous stories about our neighbors, only that
every one does so; and so on to the end of the chapter.
No Christian will deny, if asked the question out and out, that
his Father in Heaven has ordered, or at the least permitted, the
circumstances of his life. Say that we are placed in a country parish,
where there is little or no enthusiasm for any good cause, and where
most of the parishioners think they have done their duty nobly
when they have helped to keep their pastor on the outside verge of
starvation, instead of the inside. Well, He places us there because He
has work for us there—some work which no one could do so well as you or
I. Let us try to find out what that work is, and to do it faithfully.
We shall grow in grace ourselves, and no one can do that without
benefiting others.
Or He has put one of His chosen ones in a place where he has no
Christian sympathy—perhaps among unbelievers and scoffers. Take
courage. Bad as they may be, they are probably saints themselves,
compared to the men and women with whom they of Cæsar's household were
brought in daily contact. You may have good work to do among them.
A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump. When the Rev. Mr. Lowder
entered the district of St. Peter's, in the east of London, there were
not a dozen Christian men in the parish. He was hooted and pelted in
the street, and on one occasion a ring of his friends had to fight for
his life against a howling mob of ruffians. Every other house was a
house of ill-fame; when he died, after twenty-three years' service,
there was not one such to be found in the parish; and by the streets
where he had been stoned and all but murdered, he was carried to his
burial through throngs of weeping men and women, hundreds of whom
walked miles to see him laid in the grave.
A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump. But, then, the leaven must
be living and warm. Frozen yeast is no good, as every housewife knows.
"I got my father and mother to come to church last Sunday," said a
dear little child with sparkling eyes. "It was so nice!" He had been
laboring for that result for months. He would have been one of the
saints in Cæsar's household. And I have no doubt that those saints
found there, were of a pretty robust and earnest description. "They"
would hardly have stayed away from the gathering in St. Paul's cabin on
the first day of the week because they had not the latest fashion in
gown or sandal, or even to hear the court poet recite his ode, or to
learn the last news from Gaul or Britain. (2 Kings v.; 1 Peter ii.)
A part of this chapter was printed in the "Kalendar."
_FIFTH TUESDAY IN LENT._
_THE HOUSEHOLD OF GOD._
AS has been noticed before, the reformers, in translating this collect
from the original Latin, saw fit to render the word that is to say,
household or family, by "people," thinking probably that the word
corresponded better to the idea of government. It is perhaps difficult
to see the aptness of the change, since, as has been observed, a family
certainly needs governing quite as much as a state.
In three other places is the Church of God spoken of as a family.
In the collect for Good Friday we beseech God to behold "this His
family." In that for the fifth Sunday after Epiphany, we ask Him "to
keep His Church and household in His true religion;" and again, on the
twenty-second Sunday after Trinity, we beg Him to keep His household,
the Church, in continual godliness. The great Church catholic, then, is
to be thought of, not only as God's kingdom, but as His family. It is
under this latter aspect that I wish now to consider it.
A family is not "a fortuitous concourse of atoms." It consists of
a number of members, either related by blood or united by a common
purpose. Now the very idea of a member is that of a part of some
organization differentiated or set apart for some office for which
it is specially fitted by structure or position, or both. The very
simplest living creature—the very germ cell from which the lowest
seaweed is produced—has its parts so distinguished, and the higher we
rise in the scale, the more striking are the differences. The family is
an organism, and it follows that every member of the same has his own
"vocation and ministry," which nobody can fulfill as well as himself.
"The Lord has chosen him." (1 Chron. xxviii. 10.) He has appointed his
place and set his task before him. Surely this is a great honor.
The great trouble is that the member thus appointed does not see his
work, and he does not see it, for the most part, because he will not.
Perhaps he thinks his appointed task too humble. He thinks it beneath
his capacity. He is too often like a certain little girl who was set by
her mother to watch that the bread did not run over, but who thought it
would be much finer to run the sewing machine. The result may easily be
imagined. A woman who wished to undertake some Church work was invited
to begin by taking a class from the infant room. She declined, saying
that she would feel herself to be throwing away her time teaching such
ignorant little ones. She was allowed to try a class of grown-up girls.
She soon found out her mistake. She complained that the girls were
always asking questions and making remarks, and at last she threw up
the work in disgust, and there was the end of her aspirations after
Church work. If she could only have had something congenial, she said,
it would have been different.
Another church-member was fired with enthusiasm on hearing an eloquent
missionary sermon. She only wished that she could go out to Africa.
That would, indeed, be worth while. But when it was suggested that she
might give of an abundant wardrobe to help fill a missionary box, she
rejected the idea with some tartness. She did not take so much pains
with her things, to give them to a common negro preacher's wife!
There are several inconveniences resulting from this unwillingness or
inability of the members of God's family to recognize and do their own
work. One of them, and that not the least, is the loss to the member
himself—a loss of opportunities of usefulness, and of growth in grace.
The member which is never used in its appropriate office loses its
vigor, and often becomes paralyzed beyond recovery. We have all heard
of the East Indian devotees, who hold their hands above their heads
till they grow into that position, and cannot be taken down; and I
have somewhere read of a nun who never used her hands, but kept them
clasped in the attitude of prayer till the joints became useless. We
think such conduct a horrible misuse of God's gifts, and rightly; but
we should do well to examine ourselves, lest we fall into the same
error with respect to our spiritual faculties. But as a limb which has
been partly paralyzed by misuse or disuse may often be restored by care
and exercise, so no one need despair of regaining a good measure of
usefulness, however faulty they may have been in the past.
Another trouble is that the uselessness of some members of the body
throws additional work on the others. Everyone knows that when the skin
refuses its office, the lungs and other bodily organs are overworked,
and often become diseased in consequence. Think, for a moment, what
would be the effect if the work of any ordinary parish were fairly
divided among those who were able to do their share, though that share
were ever so little. Suppose, for instance, that every woman who is
able should lay by two cents a week for the women's auxiliary, and
should devote one hour a week to working for it! Suppose that every man
capable of teaching a class of boys should next Sunday offer to do so!
Suppose every church-member who has not a valid excuse should be ready
to undertake any piece of work pointed out by the rector! A venerable
saint of God once remarked that there were in almost every church two
classes of willing members—a small class who were willing to do all the
work, and a large class who were willing they should. How would the
labors of the first class be lightened if the second class would awake
to their duty!
Dear friends, let us examine ourselves whether we are doing our duty as
members of the Church, which is the Lord's body. Let us see whether we
have been shrinking or standing idly aside, and in the way of others,
as idle folk almost always are. And if we find, after honest inquiry,
that such has been the case, let us resolve that it shall be so no
more. Let us ask forgiveness for all that is past, and with humility
and docility strive hereafter, in the words of the catechism, "to do
our duty in that state of life to which it shall please God to call us."
Neh. iv. Rom. xii.
_SIXTH WEDNESDAY IN LENT._
_THE HOUSEHOLD OF GOD.—Continued._
ONE of the principal duties of the members of the household or family
is loyalty—faithfulness to their head and to each other. The word
covers a great deal. So far as our Great Head is concerned, it means
obedience first of all—constant, unquestioning, cheerful obedience.
That, and that alone, is the true test of our love; as He Himself tells
us: "He that hath my commandments and keepeth them, he it is that
loveth Me." "He that loveth Me not, keepeth not my sayings." (S. John
xiv. 21-24.) We are to obey, not when we feel like it, not when it is
easy, not alone when we are in the society of fellow-disciples, but at
all times, and in all places. Without such loyalty, no protestations
of affection, no outbursts of enthusiasm, no efforts of church or
missionary zeal, are of any value in the sight of our Master.
We are "to keep and 'seek for' all the commandments of the Lord our
God." (1 Chron. xxviii. 8) We are to study His written Word diligently,
and not only so, but we are to watch carefully for indications
of His will in our everyday lives for occasions of obedience and
service. There is not one of us but can see, on looking back, a
hundred occasions of doing God service, which we have allowed to pass
unimproved simply from the want of watchfulness. The little events of
our daily lives are so many angel messengers bringing words from our
dear Head, but too often we do not see their lovely faces, because we
never look at them till they have passed us by.
The path of obedience is not always made smooth and easy for us, any
more than it was for our Leader. The gate is strait, the path is
narrow, the hills are high, the waters deep. It was when the disciples
were crossing the lake in obedience to the Lord's command that they met
with the storm. It was when they were laboring in His cause that they
were to be scourged and stoned and slandered by the very people they
were trying to benefit. Our very carefulness and zeal for Him may lead
us into collision, yes, even with our fellow-servants. But what then?
The disciple is not above his Master, nor the servant above his Lord.
He has never promised us an easy journey. It is much that He has placed
in our way many a living spring and many a flower and shady tree, and
that He shows us, from time to time, from His Delectable Mountains, a
view of that Celestial City which is to be our journey's end.
We are to be loyal not in deed only, but in word as well; and, strange
as it may sound, I believe this latter kind of loyalty to be rather
more rare than the former. There are many disciples who will obey
the Master, often at a great sacrifice, who will never open their
lips for Him. They will hear His name lightly spoken of, His claims
derided or denied, and never open their mouths in His defense or to
assert their own faith in Him. They will believe Him to be the only
way of salvation, and yet never make one effort to bring to Him their
servants, their work-people, even their own children. An officer who
should behave in this way where the honor of his flag was concerned
would have the straps torn from his shoulders. We need not sound a
trumpet before us, nor make any parade of our own goodness; but we can,
and we ought always, to own our allegiance to Him, and to speak for
Him. And to the end that we may do this, we must take care to walk so
that our lives shall not contradict our words, and that we may speak
from our own experience. "We have seen Him!" is the argument which no
infidel can answer.
Is. lviii. S. John xiv.
_SIXTH THURSDAY IN LENT._
_THE HOUSEHOLD OF GOD.—Continued._
THE members of a family or household owe a duty, not only to their
head, but to each other. They are bound in honor to help one another
when help is needed, to sustain each other in trials, and to bear each
other's burdens; and the honor of one is the honor of all, and the
shame of one is the shame of all.
So it is in the Church, which is the household of God. We are members
of one body, and so of each other. If one member suffers, others suffer
with it; and not one can grow in spiritual grace and strength without
directly or indirectly benefiting others. If one member is poor or
afflicted in mind, body, or estate, his fellows are bound to help him.
If he be assailed with slander or detraction, the others are bound to
defend him; and so on to the end of the chapter.
I suppose that no one—certainly no church-member—will deny that these
words are true in theory; there are many, thank God, to whom they are
true in practice. Would to God they were so to all! But, alas! to how
many are those with whom they worship on Sunday, with whom they kneel
at the chancel rail even, of no more real interest than the horses
they pass in the street. How many will sit next to a person in church
for years, and never exchange a greeting. How many actually look
down on their fellows who work for a living, or who are not of their
particular set! A woman has been known to object to the formation of a
church guild because "it would bring in everybody on an equal footing.
We would rather confine the thing to our own set." It is to be hoped
such extreme instances are rare; but that rector or church worker is
exceptionally happy who has never found his efforts for the good of the
parish hampered by such feelings and prejudices.
Again, a woman in poor or even moderate circumstances will not go to
church herself, or send her children to Sunday-school, because she
cannot dress herself or them as well as somebody with twice her means.
She is always looking out for affronts, and resents every kindness and
attention as an attempt at patronage.
Nor is this the worst. Members of the same church will not be content
with neglect or mere passive envy. They will actually try to injure
one another. It is a shame to have to say it, but it is true. A man or
woman will kneel at the altar with another, and partake the emblems of
their dying Saviour's love. They will do this, and then, before they
are fairly out of sight of the church door, will repeat a scandalous
story to that person's disadvantage—a story which they do not know
to be true, and which there would be no use in telling if it were.
Two communicants will quarrel, and keep up a grudge for years. I have
known a person leave her parish church and go to another because, as
she said, she could not go to the communion with such an one; as if
the Lord's body were divided into parishes! So the Lord is shamed and
wounded in the house of His friends, and the world says, ironically,
"See how these Christians love one another!"
Oh, dear friends, fellow members of Christ, saved by the same infinite
love and pity, washed in the same atoning blood, ought these things
so to be? Are we not fasting for strife and debate when we pretend to
keep Lent? Have we not all one Father? Has not God created us? "Why do
we deal treacherously, every man against his brother?" (Mal. ii. 10.)
Can the eye say to the hand, "I have no need of thee!" or, again, the
head to the feet, "I have no need of you!" (1 Cor. xii. 21.) Can we
wonder that the world does not care for the Church, while it sees the
members of the church so indifferent, to say the least, to one another?
Oh, let this holy season see every grudge renounced, every feeling of
envy or pride put away, every quarrel made up! Let the blessed feast of
Easter see us working and praying and loving as one in our risen Lord!
So shall we be meet partakers of that Holy Table. So shall the power of
the Church for good be increased a thousand-fold, and the Lord pour out
a blessing till there shall be no room to receive it.
Mal. ii. 1 Cor. xii.
_SIXTH FRIDAY IN LENT._
_THE HOUSEHOLD OF GOD.—Continued._
WE must never forget that we are members of our Lord's great family,
wherever we may be. The earthly family tie is not broken by absence,
by distance, or even by death. The brother in California, the father
on the distant frontier, are the brother and father still, followed
by faithful prayers, by fond wishes, and remembered with tender tears
at every family anniversary. Even though the wanderer be a prodigal
as well, though it come to this, that his name is never heard, yet he
is not forgotten. His place is empty, and must remain so, because it
can be filled by none but himself. He may have forgotten his duty and
renounced his family name, but the tie of blood is still there, and he
cannot break it if he would.
It is so in the Household of God. Once a member, always a member. We
may wander away, we may ignore our duties and forget our birthright;
like the prodigal, we may journey into a far country and waste our
substance—which is not ours, but our Father's—with riotous living;
but though rebellious, we are His children still. But not to speak of
that case at present, let us look a little at one or two others. You,
my friend, have not been to church in months, perhaps years. You are
shut up by illness or infirmity, and cannot go into the house of the
Lord. It is a great misfortune, no doubt; and yet it is not as bad
as it might be. You are not cut off from the Lord's family, nor even
from the services of the sanctuary. With your Bible and prayer-book
you can follow the Church services throughout the Christian year. Some
kind friend will keep you informed of the work that is going on in the
parish, and you may perhaps be able now and then to give it a little
help. Your church paper or missionary magazine will tell you the news
of the Church at large, and you can at least follow with your prayers
the good enterprises of which the time is so full. And if you cannot
go to the Holy Communion, your pastor will gladly bring it to you. It
is a wonder to me that invalids do not oftener avail themselves of
this great privilege. Many persons seem to think it a service reserved
for dying hours. "Has your sister had the Holy Communion since she was
sick?" was the question asked of an intelligent English woman. "Oh,
no!" was the answer, in a tone of surprise, "we do not think her in any
danger." It is to be feared that too many look on this ordinance as
a kind of magic rite, by which they are somehow to be bewitched into
Heaven at last, however they may have neglected it in their lifetime.
To those who are by absence deprived of the services of our Church I
would say the same. Never allow yourself to forget your church ties,
any more than you would forget your family relations on account of
absence, but cherish them all the more. I would not have you stay away
from the public worship of your fellow-Christians, or refuse to help
them in their good works. On the contrary, I would have you assist them
in every possible way, and maintain the most friendly relations with
them. But never, never forget your own household of faith. If possible
let no Sunday or holy day pass without joining in her worship. Work for
her, pray for her, speak for her, at all proper times. How often has it
happened that one such faithful member has been the seed from which has
grown a vine bearing fruit unto eternal life! You cannot be deprived
of all church privileges so long as you have your prayer-book, and if
you use faithfully what you have, the Lord will send you others. Above
all things, never allow yourself to forget that you are a member of the
Lord's body.
It is possible that this book may fall into the hands of some one who
has forgotten his birthright, who, like the Scripture prodigal, has
gone into a far country, and is trying to satisfy the hunger of his
soul with the husks of this world—with money or land, or low, vile
pleasures fit only for swine. To such an one let me say, your place in
your Father's house and heart and table is still open to you. No one
has taken it. No one ever will take it. It stands waiting for you, and
unless you come home to occupy it, it must stand forever empty. Oh, my
brother, my sister, remember that you are still God's child! You must
be so, you cannot help yourself. Rebellious you may be, disobedient,
ungrateful, lost to love, even to shame; you are still the child of
God. Even though you have never been baptized in His name. He created
you, and He has cared for you all these years. Return, then, to His
House and His love while there is yet time, lest at last the door
should be shut, and you be left to yourself, an orphan in the universe.
Dan. iv. St. Luke xv.
_SATURDAY BEFORE PALM SUNDAY._
_THE ALABASTER BOX._
THE selections of Holy Scripture set forth for the days of Holy Week
are so abundant and so important that any one who studies them as they
deserve will have little time for any other reading. * I propose,
therefore, merely to glance at some one event of each particular day,
following the chronology adopted by Dean Farrar.
* For the same reason I have named no selections from the Bible.
After the excitement which followed the raising of Lazarus, our Lord
withdrew from Jerusalem to a little city called Ephraim, on the edge
of the desert, where He seems to have spent some weeks in quiet and
restful retirement with His disciples. Six days before the Passover
He returned to the neighborhood of Jerusalem. He did not, however,
enter the city immediately, but betook Himself to the little village
of Bethany, the home of His chosen friends Mary and Martha, and their
brother Lazarus. It was at a supper made for their honored guest that
Mary's full heart overflowed in that offering which has made her name
sweet through all the ages, and on which her Lord bestowed the emphatic
commendation, "She hath done what she could."
She hath done what she could! She gave her Lord the very best of all
that she possessed—the alabaster vase of precious perfume, costly as
gold; an article of luxury, even with the rich. Are we doing the same?
Do we give Him the best of our time, our means, our labors? Or do we,
like the covetous Jews rebuked by the prophet, offer Him only that
which no one else will thank us for? "Cursed be the deceiver who hath
in his flock a male, and voweth and sacrificeth unto the Lord a corrupt
thing." (Mal. i. xiii.)
She hath done what she could! If she had been able to offer no more
than a bunch of sweet herbs gathered in the fields, we cannot doubt
that the offering would have been as acceptable to the Lord of earth
and sky as the costly ointment. He to whom belong the cattle upon a
thousand hills was as well pleased with the turtle doves—the sacrifice
of the very poorest—as with the oxen and sheep of the prince in Israel.
Let us never hesitate to give what we can because the gift is small.
She hath done what she could! It was her love which made the offering
acceptable. She first gave herself (2 Cor. viii. 5), and the rest
followed, as a matter of course. Let us honestly offer and present to
the Lord ourselves, our souls and bodies, our powers, our very weakness
and hindrances, and having done so, let us, as some old divine says,
"keep ourselves on the altar," taking back nothing of all that we have
given. The altar shall sanctify the gift, and make it as worthy of our
Lord's acceptance as was Mary's box of precious perfume.
_PALM SUNDAY._
_CHILDREN IN THE TEMPLE._
THE great event of the day was over. The Lord had come to Jerusalem,
fulfilling the words of the prophet. His had been a triumphal entry,
and for a little time it seemed, indeed, as if the world had gone
after Him. Only He Himself knew how evanescent would be the feeling in
his favor. Only He knew that some of the very tongues which had cried
"Hosanna!" would in no long time be as ready to cry, "Crucify Him!"
But there were other voices—innocent voices—to which the Lord could
listen with delight. The little children in the temple, who had
followed Him thither with their parents—possibly also those employed in
the musical service—continued to repeat the shouts of the multitudes
on the Mount of Olives, and the spacious courts resounded with their
shrill hosannas. His enemies were all the more enraged, and would have
silenced them, but the Lord refused, and justified their action. "Yea,
have ye never heard, Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings Thou hast
perfected praise"?
Nowadays the children's place in the temple is too often vacant. One
sees but seldom what was once the most common of Sunday sights—the
long, orderly rows of children, big and little, filling the pews on
Sunday. I cannot recollect when I first went to church, but I well
remember what a deprivation it was to be kept at home. If the morning
service was thought too long for the very little ones, they were taken
in the afternoon. But the afternoon service has been turned into the
evening, when the children cannot come out (it being considered by
careful mothers much more dangerous to take them to church than to
dancing-school); and at the morning service the clergyman may look over
twenty pews and not see half a dozen children.
Surely this is not right. Surely the praises of the little ones are as
acceptable now as they were on the first Palm Sunday. Children soon
learn to understand and join in the service. I shall never forget
being, many years ago, in a church where the responses were made so
faintly that one might think the worshippers were afraid some one would
hear them. All at once, in the midst of that cold, dying murmur, arose
distinct and clear the voice of a little child saying in devoutest
accents, "Good Lord, deliver us." All through the Litany the sweet
little tones were heard, and it was curious to hear how others near him
found courage to open their mouths.
Dear friends, let us take the children to church. Let us not deprive
them of their birthright. Their place is in the Sanctuary as well as
ours, and they will soon learn to consider worship a privilege. They
will learn to love God's house when they are young, and when they are
old they will not depart from it.
_MONDAY BEFORE EASTER._
_THE FIG-TREE HAVING LEAVES._
THE Lord had, as usual, gone out of the city to spend the night. He
seems to have had no love for cities in general. He spent the dark
hours either at Bethany, or, as is very probable, He had slept with His
disciples in the open air, under the trees of the Mount of Olives. All
Orientals are rather fond of sleeping out of doors, and a night on the
grass, wrapped in their big mantles, is, to them, no hardship at all.
But returning to Jerusalem early in the morning, He was an-hungered;
and seeing a fig-tree having leaves, He came to it, if possibly He
might find fruit thereon.
The time of figs—the general harvest—had not yet come. But this
particular tree had put on its summer dress of leaves; and therefore
it was reasonable to expect that it should also bear fruit, since the
fruit of the fig-tree always precedes the leaf. Our Lord might have
expected to find some of the small green figs which there often come
to perfection in April or May. * But the tree was barren. It had not
even remaining any of the large purple fruit which hangs on till the
next season. It was barren now; it had been barren the year before. And
so the Lord pronounced its condemnation. "Let no fruit grow on thee
henceforth forever."
* NOTE.—Thomson, author of "The Land and the Book" (which ought to
be in every Sunday-school library as a book of reference), speaks of
eating the little sweet green figs as early as April.
Is there a possibility that one of us who have followed the Church
services all through this holy season may be, after all, like this
fig-tree? It is possible that we may be like the empty vine described
by the prophet—empty because it brought forth fruit only to itself?
(Hos. x. 1.) Oh, let us look to it, lest our Lord, seeking for fruit
and finding none, may pronounce against us also the awful sentence, "No
fruit grow on thee henceforth forever."
_TUESDAY BEFORE EASTER._
_THE HOUSE LEFT DESOLATE._
OUR Lord had visited the temple for the last time. He had silenced all
his enemies; He had frustrated all their deep-laid plans to entangle
Him in His own words. He had poured out on the Scribes and Pharisees
those terrible denunciations which filled up the cup of their spite
and fury to overflowing. Then looking about Him, doubtless, at the
magnificent building, and the still great and prosperous city with
its crowded inhabitants, His heart of love and pity overflowed once
more, as it had done at the time of His triumphal entry. "O Jerusalem,
Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets and stonest them that are
sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together,
as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not." And
then came the saddest words of all. "Behold, your house is left unto
you, desolate."
Our Lord never entered the temple again. It stood in its majesty
for many a year, untouched by any outward enemy, throwing back the
sunbeams, a "pile of gold and snow." Yet was it as surely a ruin as
when the fire that devoured it was quenched in the blood of priests and
worshippers. For the Lord had departed and all the splendor was but an
empty show. The house was left, but it was desolate.
Probably none of those who crowded to hear the Lord's last words,
realized that they were the last. He had been going in and out among
them for three years. They had become, as it were, used to seeing
His miracles and hearing His teachings, and there seemed no special
reason why these miracles and teachings should not go on indefinitely.
Probably very few, except His bitterest enemies, had made up their
minds absolutely to reject Him. There was time enough, they thought.
But they were awfully mistaken. There was no more time. The clock had
struck, though they had not heard it. The Lord, whom they had pretended
to seek, had come to His temple, but the rulers there would have none
of Him. And so they were left to themselves, to fill up the measure of
their iniquities, and to be filled in turn with their own devices in a
manner more awful than the world has ever seen.
To every man and woman on earth there is coming a last time—a last
Lent, a last Easter, a last Sunday, a last chance. "God had appointed
a day." We know not what day, nor when it is to come, but being
appointed, it is constantly drawing nearer and nearer. And when once
the Master of the house has risen, and has shut to the door, it will
not be opened again. God grant that at that awful time, none of us who
have walked on together through this holy season, may be left outside
that door to knock in vain!
_WEDNESDAY BEFORE EASTER._
_THE LOST OPPORTUNITIES._
WE may think of this day with tender interest as our Lord's last quiet
day upon earth. He seems to have spent it in retirement with His
disciples, probably among the groves of that Mount which He loved so
well; not yet invaded by the foot of treachery and violence, but lying
sweet and calm and beautiful with the tender tints of spring. Here He
told His friends of the terrible fate which was even then threatening
that temple, to whose beauty and strength they had so lately directed
His attention, and of that still more awful event, also inevitable, but
the date whereof was still hidden in the councils of God. At this time,
too, He spoke the parables of the wise and foolish virgins, and of the
talents, and gave the description of the last Judgment contained in the
same chapter.
It is on one feature of the narration in this chapter that I would
dwell for a few minutes. The most startling and significant thing about
them all has always seemed to me this: that in every case the persons
condemned were so condemned not for what they did, but for what they
did not do. The foolish virgins made no bad use of their lamps. They
did not willfully waste their oil for their own pleasure. They simply
neglected to provide it when they might have done so. When the time
came that the lamps were needed they hastened to supply the deficiency,
but it was then too late. They that were ready had gone in to the
marriage, and the door was shut.
So it was with the slothful servant with his one talent. He made
no ill use of it. We do not hear that he drank or gambled. He was
slothful—perhaps cowardly as well. So he hid his Lord's money, and
was judged accordingly. The man with one talent is perhaps specially
exposed to this temptation. He can do but little in comparison to
others, and so he will do nothing. But if his sentence was so severe,
what shall be that of him who, having ten talents given him to serve
his master withal, lets them lie unimproved, or uses them for his own
and others' destruction.
Again, in the story of judgment, with which the chapter concludes,
those who were sent away to the place prepared, not for them, but
for the devil and his angels, were condemned, not because they had
ill-treated or robbed any one, but because having the opportunity to
succor the Lord in the persons of His poor, they had not done so.
Do not these stories contain an awful warning? How many say, if not
openly, yet to themselves, "At least, if I do no good, I do no great
harm." But, let us not be deceived. The not doing good is of itself a
sin, and as a sin it will surely be visited.
_THURSDAY BEFORE EASTER._
_THE TRAITOR._
"WHEN evening was come, He sat down with the twelve" to the meal
already prepared by the two disciples whom He had sent in the morning
for that purpose. We cannot tell what were the thoughts that then
occupied His mind, any further than the Holy Spirit had revealed them
to us, but, so far, we without presumption humbly try to enter into
them. He knew, though His disciples did not, that his enemies were
awake, and already planning His destruction, and that one of His chosen
companions, who was breaking bread with Him, would betray Him into
their hands. He saw all the weakness and folly of those companions,
even then disputing who should be greatest; He foresaw their cowardly
desertion and flight. His soul was sorrowful, even unto death; yet we
hear no words of impatience; only solemn warnings and tender counsels.
There was one of the number to whom every look should have been a
reproach, every word a sting. He had sold his Lord already, and was
only biding his time to consummate the bargain; yet he could sit there
at the board, could take the bread from that Master's own hand, could
even ask with the others, "Is it I?"
Did his conscience even then torment him? Probably not. He had hardened
it too long. Says a well-known writer: "Remorse may disturb the slumber
of a man who is dabbling with his first experiences of wrong; and when
the pleasure has been tasted and is gone, and nothing is left of the
crime but the ruin it has wrought, then, too, the furies take their
seats upon the midnight pillow. But the meridian of evil is for the
most part left unvexed, and when a man has chosen his road he is left
alone to follow it to the end." Judas had chosen his road. He had sold
his Master for a paltry sum of money, and probably pleased himself with
the thoughts of farther advantages which would be certain to follow
such a service to the rulers. The world had hidden all else from his
eyes, and if he now and then had a misgiving, he doubtless stifled it
with the thought that the Master who had so often escaped the hands of
his enemies would easily do so again. He would have the money and the
credit, and there would be no great harm done after all.
Is there any danger now, that Judas may be found at the Lord's table?
Is there any danger that we may betray our Master for gold, for
fashion, or for worldly advantage? Do we ever, for the sake of being
thought liberal or intellectual, side with His open or covert enemies?
Let us beware! It was an awful distinction which our merciful and
compassionate Lord gave to Judas. There was pardon for those who
forsook Him for fear, for Peter who denied, for Paul who persecuted. It
was only Judas who sold Him, of whom it was said, "It were better for
that man that he had never been born!"
_GOOD FRIDAY._
_THE CROSS._
THERE seems to be no room on this day for human words. What we have to
do is to follow our suffering Lord step by step through the events of
the day; to see Him led from the high priest to Pilate, from Pilate to
Herod, and back to Pilate again; to see the cowardly Roman governor,
acting against his own sense of law and justice for fear of the mob,
seeking to save the innocent by a compromise, which failed, as such
compromises always do, and at last giving way and delivering the victim
into the hands of his enemies, to find, after all, that he had gained
nothing but infamy by the surrender of honor and conscience. Let us,
with the daughters of Jerusalem, follow the sad procession to Calvary.
Let us see the Saviour of the world fainting under His burden, yet
forgetting His own pain to address to the wailing women a word of
recognition and warning. Let us see Him refusing the narcotic provided
by merciful hands to deaden the agonies of the sufferers.
Let us, with His mother and the other faithful women, watch by His
cross to the end. Surely we can do this for Him who has done so much
for us.
And as we keep our sorrowful yet joyful watch, let us always remember
that we have our part in that awful sacrifice; that "our" sins made a
part of that crushing burden; that our sins sharpened the nails and
embittered the cup. Let us say again and again, as we watch the shadow
darkening on the Saviour's brow, that shadow which never anywhere falls
but once, "He died for me!"
He died for you, oh timid, doubting, desponding soul. How, then, can
you distrust your Father's love, who suffered His well-beloved Son
to bear all this for your sake? He died for you, oh weak and weary
sufferer, and He who so bore His own cross will help you to bear yours.
Oh, thoughtless or careless sinner, or hardened man of the world; oh,
blasphemer or denier! He died for you that you might live for Him. Let
it not be in vain that He has so died!
_EASTER EVEN._
_THE LAST SABBATH._
THE agony was over at last. Joseph and Nicodemus, openly taking sides
with the disciples of Jesus in this their darkest hour, had begged the
Lord's body, and with all the tenderness and reverence which the time
admitted, had laid it safely away in the garden tomb. The faithful
women who had watched by the cross saw where the body of their Lord
was laid, and sadly returned home. There was no more that they could
do. Yes, one thing more. They prepared spices and ointments, and then,
anxious as they were to complete the last service they could show, they
rested the Sabbath day according to the commandment. If they could do
no more, they could obey that law which He Himself had said should not
pass away till all was fulfilled.
They rested the Sabbath day. A sorrowful day, no doubt, yet not perhaps
without its gleams of comfort. He whom they trusted was to redeem
Israel was gone, dead by a shameful and cruel death. After all His
faithful teaching for three years among them, after all His miracles,
after that triumphal entry of only a week before, He was dead. And yet,
as they who had followed Him so faithfully, talked over the events of
their Lord's life, and recalled His words, it seems as if they must
have remembered those mysterious words of His about rising again. How
many had He not recalled from death? Had He not brought Lazarus back
after he had been dead four days? At all events, He was now out of
reach of His enemies. Their malice could not harm Him now, and they
should see Him again at that resurrection of the just which He had
taught them to expect.
They rested the Sabbath day according to the commandment. It was,
though they did not know it then, the last Sabbath under the old
law. Henceforth, as long as the world stood, the first instead of
the last day of the week was to be the "day of rest and gladness"
to all Christian hearts and homes. It was to be pre-eminently the
Lord's day—Sunday, we may well call it, since on that day the Sun of
Righteousness rose on His Church to set no more. The disciples and the
women did not know that it was the last, but they kept it in obedience.
That at least was in their power.
It may be that some one who reads these pages is bowed down with
trouble from within or without; perplexed with doubt, burdened with
a sense of unworthiness, and hesitating whether or not to go to the
Easter feast. To such an one let me say, dear friend, you can always
obey. The King Himself invites you to the feast; and a royal invitation
is a command. Draw near with faith, and take what your King offers you
out of loyalty to His will. Believe me, He will himself give you the
wedding garment which shall render you fit for His presence. And as for
your burden, lay it at His feet and leave it there. Only obey, and the
blessing will as surely follow as light follows the sun.
_EASTER._
_THE DAY OF THE LORD._
THIS is the day of the Lord; we will rejoice and be glad in it. It is
the great day of the Church, the crowning feast of the year. Even the
world rejoices on Christmas Day, though it scarcely knows why; but this
is the Christian's day. To him who does not believe, it means nothing;
to us, it means everything.
Our Lord has risen from the dead. Henceforth the grave has for us
no terror. Our Lord has opened its fast-barred gates and let in the
sunshine to every corner; and as we look into it, we see nothing to
affright us. He has made it a safe resting-place; and we may commit
to it the bodies of our dear ones, with the tears that love demands
indeed, but in hope, because as our Lord rose they too shall rise to
die, no more.
Our Lord is risen from the dead; and from henceforth the hope of a
future life is no more a dream, a theory, a fond hope. To us who
believe, it is a certainty beyond all doubt. Because He lives, we shall
live also.
When the women and the other disciples had become assured that their
Lord had really risen; when He had spoken and eaten with them, and
their hands had touched and handled Him, the distress and grief of
the last few days must have seemed to them like a bad dream. So will
the longest, weariest life seem to the disciple who looks at it from
the rest of Paradise. It was long, but the end came at last. It was
hard to bear, but it is all over now. The poor, weak soul trembled
at the passage, but it was safely made, and the Home is gained, from
which there is no going out forevermore. It was a dark, restless night
perhaps, full of sad dreams and fears, but it is past and gone now. The
sun has risen, and it will never set.
Our Lord is risen from the dead! He calls us, as He did His disciples,
to eat and drink with Him. Let us hasten to obey. And if we are so
shut-in that we cannot go with the multitude to His holy table, let us
prepare Him a place in our hearts, and rest assured that He will come
and sup with us and we with Him.
_CONCLUSION._
_LOOKING BACK._
EVERY wise merchant, at the close of a busy season, looks back over
his business, and reckons up his profits and losses. We, dear friends,
have been passing through a season of more than usual occupation and
privilege. Lent is now at an end. Let us look back and see if we have
gained or lost ground in our spiritual progress during the last busy
days.
We have surely gained, if we have used them as we ought. If we have
laid out a plan of work or study or self-denial, and adhered to it
as far as possible, our wills have been strengthened by the process.
If we have taken unavoidable interruptions pleasantly, if we have
borne with criticism, kind or unkind, good-naturedly, if we have been
un-ostentatious in our devotions, while yielding not a jot of what
we believe to be right, we have surely grown in grace. If we have
laid aside light and amusing books, that we might have more time for
religious reading and for Bible study, we have increased in knowledge.
In short, if we have used the time as we ought, we have laid up
strength and formed good habits which will help us through the entire
year.
But if, through idleness or self-indulgence, we have allowed the
precious hours and days to pass empty away; if our Bibles have been
neglected, and our time frittered away on trifles; if we have done and
given nothing for the spread of the Gospel, the advancement of the
Lord's cause—then has the Lenten season been lost. If we have formed no
good habits to carry us through the rest of the year, if we are ready
to plunge into new frivolities, or to take up the old ones with a new
zest after a few weeks of abstinence, then it is worse than lost. We
might better not have had it. For every privilege misused, every means
of grace unimproved, does but harden the heart and blunt the conscience.
Without wishing to be censorious, it does seem to me that a good many
Christians do up their religion in Lent, so as to have little left
for the rest of the year. For six weeks they are to be seen in the
Sunday-school, at the missionary meeting, at the week-day service; but
look for them after Easter, and you will find their places vacant.
"Yes, I went to the meetings in Lent," said one; "but now that the
world is going on again, there are so many claims on my time!" One
could not help wondering a little what claims the world had on the time
of a Christian after Easter any more than before.
But let us beware of judging our neighbors; we shall have quite
enough to do in examining our own consciences and bewailing our own
sinfulness, that we may come well prepared to the blessed feast of
Easter. We shall all see plenty to regret in the weeks that are
past. Let us see to it that the coming days—the days of our Lord's
humiliation and death—are so employed as that the feast of His joyful
and glorious resurrection may find us ready, in the marriage garment
prescribed by Holy Scripture, to be meet partakers of that Holy Table.
Isa. liii. 1 Cor. xi. 17.
THE END.
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