Front matter (continued 4)

But the promise is ours. It extends through all time. It can never be obsolete, while Christ hath an ordained servant upon earth. Who talks of change? Who says the apostolic office, with its high prerogatives and awful responsibilities, was intended only for a season, and has long since passed away? Who sneers and scoffs at the claim of the Holy Catholic Church to this sublime descent on the part of her chief pastors, and the consequent connection of the whole body of her clergy, through a regular series of ordinations, with the blessed men first commissioned by our divine Lord to go forth and disciple all nations? And hath the Master abandoned those who are obeying the mandate and perpetuating the sacred succession? Hath the Word forever settled in heaven come utterly to naught, and the Rock dissolved on which the Church was founded, and the gates of hell prevailed against her? True, the direct inspiration is withdrawn, and the miraculous endowments are no more; but these are not essential to the apostolate, and were not intended to be permanent; being only the needful authentication of a new revelation from heaven, and therefore discontinued as soon as the Christian faith was once well established among men. The work of the ministry, however, is the same, and its divine sanctions are the same, and its three orders are the perpetual ordinance of Jesus Christ. Ay, and its conflicts are the same, and its succors and consolations in all its sorrows and sufferings are the same, and the faithful servant is still as much as ever the object of his Master's loving care. Whoever else may abandon him, the glorified Man of sorrows saith, "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee." Wherever he goes, Christ attends him. Wherever he labors, Christ sustains him. Wherever he preaches the gospel or administers the sacraments, he has the express authority and assured blessing of their heavenly Author. As the Lord stood by St. Paul, and strengthened him, when all men forsook him; so will he stand by his ministers in every time of trial, and strengthen them for every duty and every danger. Trusting in his might, they will never be left to their own weakness. Depending upon his counsel, they will never be abandoned to their own poor expedients. Weary and faint, his arm will support them. Doubtful and perplexed, his wisdom will direct them. Destitute and afflicted, his bounty will relieve them. Persecuted and calumniated, his providence will vindicate them. Faithful to their sacred functions, all their teachings will be clothed with a divine power, and every priestly act will be hallowed with a heavenly unction. O my brethren! beside all your baptismal fonts to-day, at all your altars, and in all your pulpits, stands he of the wounded hands, the mangled feet, the thorn-pierced brow, and the ever-open side, saying,—"Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world!"

And do we not need such assurance? What is the end and aim of the gospel ministry? To undo the work of the Devil; to turn men from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God; to reconcile them to the law of holiness, and bring their rebellious thoughts into captivity to the obedience of Christ; to draw them against the stream of their carnal inclinations and worldly ambitions and interests; to make them love what they naturally hate, and hate what they naturally love; to graft the degenerate plant of a strange vine into a new and heavenly stock, that, nourished by its life, it may bring forth the wholesome fruits of righteousness; to assure the penitent of the divine pardon, and feed the faithful with the bread that cometh down from heaven; to perfect the saints in that precious knowledge, and edify the Church in that holy faith, which are the sources of all spiritual excellence and the earnests of eternal life; in short, to subvert the seat of the great usurper, and build upon its wreck the imperishable throne of the Prince of peace, and give back into the hand of him whose right it is the sceptre of a ruined world restored. Are these achievements to be wrought without the Master's presence? Are these victories to be won without the Captain of our salvation? What saith the holy apostle? "Not that we are sufficient of ourselves to think any thing, as of ourselves; but our sufficiency is of God, who also hath made us able ministers of the New Testament, even of the Spirit that giveth life." Christ with us is at once the guaranty and the glory of our success. If the word proves powerful to save the hearer, it is because Christ is with the preacher. If the water conveys regenerating grace to the infant, it is because Christ is with the baptizer. If the consecrated bread and wine impart spiritual comfort and nourishment to the faithful, it is because Christ is with the celebrant. If the appointed absolution and benediction give peaceful assurance of pardon and heavenly succor to the penitent believer, it is because Christ is with the officiating priest. If Christ were not with him, all his learning, his logic and eloquence, were but a sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. If Christ were not with him, all his sublime sacerdotal functions, though instituted and ordained by Christ himself, were as powerless upon the spirits of men as the moonbeams upon the frozen sea. If Christ were not with him, the blind eye would not be opened, the dead conscience would not be quickened, the rebel against God would not be subdued, the lost wanderer from the fold would not be restored, the moral leper would still remain festering in his fatal impurity. Oh! who could undertake the work of the ministry, with the least hope of winning souls, awakening sinners, edifying the body of Christ, or accomplishing effectually any of the objects of his divine commission, without the infallible promise—"Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world!"

Moreover, it is important, in the work of human salvation, that the excellency of the power should be of God, and not of us, that no flesh may glory in his presence. When Joab had captured the city of Rabbah, he sent for King David to come and claim the honor of the achievement. When Garibaldi had conquered the Two Sicilies, he sent for Victor Emmanuel to come and take possession of the united kingdom. And Christ must have the credit of his servants' success in the good fight of faith. The warfare is ours; the crown belongs to him who giveth us the victory. "Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give the praise, for thy loving mercy and for thy truth's sake." But if we could accomplish aught without his aid, the honor would be ours, and not the Master's; and there would be no justice nor reason in the command, "He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord." Therefore the Divine Wisdom hath ordered that all our success shall depend upon the divine blessing; and to this end, Christ is ever present with those whom he hath commissioned, helping them mightily with his Holy Spirit. All the power of the gospel to convert the soul, all the power of the sacraments to purify the heart, all the efficiency of Christ's ambassadors in establishing and fortifying the Church, is attributable to this unction of the Holy One. Was it not the angel in the waters of Bethesda, that gave them their healing virtue? Was it not Jehovah in the waters of the Jordan, that cured the leprosy of Naaman the Syrian? And what is it but the gracious presence of Christ in the preached word and the administered ordinance, that renders them effectual to the salvation of those who believe? Is it not as true to-day, as it was when he said it, nearly nineteen centuries ago, "Without me ye can do nothing"? Without Christ, what were our knowledge but ignorance, our wisdom but folly, our eloquence but noise? what our profession but an imposture, our ritual but a solemn farce, and all our zeal but painted fire? It is God that "always causeth us to triumph in Christ, and maketh manifest by us the savor of his knowledge in every place." He who girds us with the sword must nerve the arm that wields it. Now and forever, "We see the Lamb in his own light," and shine only by the reflection of his glory. The ministry, in its three orders, with all their spiritual endowments, is the gift of Christ to the Church; and through these his chosen representatives, though he is ascended on high, he still hath his tabernacle with men, and dwelleth manifestly among them; and millions of saints, throughout the earth and throughout the ages, united in one body, inspired by one Spirit, saved through one calling, sealed with one baptism, professing one faith, cherishing one hope, obeying one Lord, and adoring one God and Father of all, are built up in him, a spiritual house, a temple of living stones, whose foundations are deeper than the earth, and whose towers are lost in the empyrean. This great truth, so humiliating to the pride of man, and so glorifying to the grace of God—this great truth, that all depends upon Christ, let us keep constantly in view; listening for the Master's feet behind his messengers, and looking for the Master's blessing in all their ministrations; ever inviting his presence, and never forgetting his promise—"Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world."

And to you, my dear brother, who are now to be set apart to the functions of the Christian priesthood, the Redeemer's assurance hath a special significance. Here we are, seeking the lost sheep in the wilderness, rescuing the shipwrecked from the devouring waves, plucking with fear the perishing out of the fire. To this blessed end we have devoted all our studies and directed all our labors. This is the glorious aim to which we have consecrated the flower of youth and the ripe fruit of manhood. How consoling and encouraging the Master's promise of his constant presence! Here is the answer to every anxious question. Here is the solution of every painful doubt. Christ is with us; therefore our priesthood involves the gift of a heavenly power. Christ is with us; therefore our gospel is vital truth, instinct with a quickening spirit. Christ is with us; therefore our sacraments are not mere naked signs, but divine mysteries, infolding the grace of life. Christ is with us; therefore the Holy Catholic Church is not a ghastly corpse, but a living body, composed of living members, united to a living Head. Christ is with us; therefore let us not weary in our blessed work, nor faint under the burden and heat of the day; but look cheerfully forward to the result, and lighten the toil of tillage with the hope of harvest. Trials are inevitable. The work of the ministry is no holiday amusement. He that follows Christ must know the fellowship of his suffering. He that preaches the glad tidings must be partaker of the afflictions of the gospel. He that cultivates Immanuel's land must expect often to plough the rock and gather his sheaves from the naked granite. You have embarked in a voyage which is to be contested with pirates as well as tornadoes; and if you would save the treasure, you must be ready to scuttle the ship, though you go down with it. You have set out in a campaign which requires that you should burn the bridges behind you, and brave the iron storm of battle, and march through the bristling forest of bayonets, and wrestle unto the death with the powers and principalities of other worlds. But gird up your loins like a man, in the strength of the Lord of hosts. Stand firmly for the truth as it is in Jesus. Contend earnestly for the faith once delivered to the saints. Hold no parley with expediency. Be independent as a prophet, and intrepid as an angel, though gentle as Jesus Christ. Let all men see that you fear nothing but God, hate nothing but sin, and seek nothing but souls. Call things honestly by their right names, and never show yourself ashamed of the Church and her teaching. Let every sermon be an echo of the ancient catholic symbols, a melodious voice in the mighty anthem that comes ringing down the ages. Be faithful to your flock in parochial visitation, with godly counsel and timely prayer. Let the sound of your footsteps on the stairs be music to the widow and orphans in the garret, the light of your countenance sunshine in the dismal basement, and your presence a benediction at the bed of death. Take heed to yourself, and suffer not your spirit to be chafed and soured by adverse criticism or unfriendly speech. Allow nothing to hinder the regularity of your private devotions, or rob you of your daily communion with Christ. Come always from your closet to the chancel and the pulpit, filled with your Master's charity, and fired with your Master's zeal. Then shall you come to your people "in the fulness of the blessing of the gospel of peace," verifying by every message and every ministration the Master's precious words—"Lo! I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world."

O my brethren! what a glorious investiture is the gospel ministry! Whereunto shall I liken it, or with what comparison shall it be compared? Is there a glory in science? Ours is the knowledge of the unknown God. Is there a glory in letters? Ours is the living lore of the immortals. Is there a glory in poetry? Ours is the burden of the angelic antiphons. Is there a glory in eloquence? Ours is the sweet persuasiveness of a heavenly inspiration. Is there a glory in heroism? We bear the banners of the Lord in the good fight of faith. Is there a glory in royalty? We share the sceptre and the diadem with the Prince of the kings of the earth. Is there a glory in philanthropy? We preach the incarnate love of heaven, born in a cave, cradled in a manger, baptized with blood in Olivet, and enthroned over a ransomed universe upon the cross. Is there a glory in the æsthetic arts? But where are the forms and colors to rival those with which we are adorning the new Jerusalem? and what are the finest bronzes and marbles to the living statuary with which we are peopling her palaces? and who shall ever speak of purple robes and jewelled crowns, that has once beheld the immortal beauty of the humblest saint in heaven? "The glory of the terrestrial is one, and the glory of the celestial is another;" and the Platos and Homers, the Tullys and Virgils, the Shakspeares and Goethes, the Bacons and Humboldts, the Raphaels and Angelos, the Cæsars and Napoleons, the Washingtons and Wellingtons, with whose fame the earth is ringing, drawn into comparison with the men of the pulpit and the altar, have no glory by reason of the glory which excelleth; and I would rather be a priest of Christ, with the apostolic seal and signature to my commission, than wear all the laurels ever won by genius, and enjoy all the triumphs that ever rewarded valor, and sit secure in peerless enthronement over a vassal world! Faithful unto death, nobler functions await us, and loftier ministrations in a temple not made with hands. Who shall tell the privileges of a celestial priesthood? Who shall sing the raptures of an eternal eucharist? Already we enjoy the earnest. We have learned something of the ritual, and are practising the prelude of the anthem. We stand at the gate, and catch bright glimpses of the inner glory, and hear the ravishing minstrelsy of the host, and inhale the perfume from the golden altar. Soon the portal shall open, and we shall be summoned to enter; and the white-vested elders shall advance to meet us, with greetings of gladdest welcome; and visions of beauty, such as mortal eyes were never blessed withal, shall smite the sense with sweet bewilderment; and voices of wondrous melody, with the accompaniment of many harps, shall be heard chanting through the corridors—"Come in, ye blessed of the Lord! come in!" and of all our blissful fellowships in the everlasting home of the faithful, our happy intercourse with the best and purest that ever lived and died, and our long-desired re-union, realized at length, with those we have loved and lost, this shall be the crown—to be with Him in his glory world without end, who made good his promise to be with us in our ministry "unto the end of the world!"

XVIII.

KEPT FROM EVIL.[1]

I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that thou shouldest keep them from the evil.—John xvii. 15.

So pleaded the departing Shepherd for the little flock he was leaving. Though the petition primarily respected the apostles and first believers, there is no impropriety in extending its application to their successors down to the end of time. We, too, are in the world and exposed to evil; we, too, are incapable of self-protection, and dependent upon the merciful guardianship of Heaven; and Christ invokes the Father's love for our preservation as for theirs: "I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that thou shouldest keep them from the evil."

How often does it happen that the Christian pilgrim, weary of the way and worn out with sorrow, or longing for a higher sphere and a holier companionship, exclaims with Job, "I loathe it, I would not live alway;" or cries out with David, "O that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away and be at rest;" or responds in the depths of his heart to the sentiment of St. Paul, "We that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened: not for that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of life." And who shall blame this longing for rest, this sighing for home, this desire of a better country? Who would not quit the scene of toil and strife and danger for the regions of eternal blessedness and peace? Who that has any perception of spiritual good, any appreciation of moral excellence, any sympathy with the pure and the true, does not prefer heaven to earth? The desire, however, should be tempered with submission, and the Christian should await with patience his heavenly Father's will. God has much for his saints to do here below. They are lights in the darkness, living springs in the desert, Bethesda fountains for the perishing. They are the Noahs, the Josephs, the Daniels of the world: yea the Abrahams, in whom all the families of the earth are to be blessed. They are witnesses of Christ, proofs of his redeeming love, specimens of his renewing power, and pledges of his final victory. They must remain a while to win sinners from the error of their way and save souls from death. They must remain a while to adorn and strengthen the Church, to comfort their fellow-Christians, and relieve surrounding misery. They must remain a while to glorify the Author and Finisher of their faith, to weaken the kingdom of Satan, thwart his malicious design, mortify his pride, and hasten his fall. They must remain a while to exercise and improve their own virtues and graces by works of piety and charity, that so they may perfect their moral likeness to their Lord, and secure for themselves a loftier station and a brighter portion among the saints in light. The world itself, indeed, exists for their sake, and through their influence with God on its behalf: and if all the saints had been taken away with their ascending Saviour, "we should have been as Sodom, and like unto Gomorrah." All which if we duly consider, we cannot fail to perceive the wisdom and goodness of the Master's request for his disciples, "I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that thou shouldest keep them from the evil."

Now, what is "the evil" from which Christ would have his people kept?—Sorrow? No: "blessed are they that mourn." Poverty? No: "blessed are ye poor." Persecution? No: "blessed are the persecuted." Temptation? No: "blessed is the man that endureth temptation." All these and all other "afflictions of the righteous" are turned into benefits and beatitudes by the wondrous alchemy of redeeming love. Over-ruled by divine providence and sanctified by divine Grace, they are the occasions and instruments of a salutary discipline, working together for good to those who love God, calling into exercise the holiest feelings and highest faculties of the regenerate soul, and perfecting the believer for his "far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." None of these, therefore, is the evil from which Christ would have his disciples kept. What is it then? for he manifestly has some specific evil in view. It is sin, the great moral evil; or Satan, the dread personal evil; or both, for sin and Satan are inseparable. These only can rob you of your peace, comfort, confidence, purity, spiritual strength, communion with God, and joyful hope of immortality; and from these effectually preserved, no earthly affliction or misfortune, no malice or might of wicked men, can work you any possible harm, or dim by a single ray one star of your celestial diadem. From these, therefore,—from the power of sin and the delusions of Satan—Christ would have his followers kept; and from these to guard them, he prayed so fervently to his Father in heaven. Two of the chief forms of the evil he deprecates in their behalf are heresy and schism, with the uncharitableness which they always engender, and in which they often originate. He prays that they may be one in him, as he is one with the Father—united by one faith, cemented by one love, incorporated in one body—that thus all mankind may be effectually convinced of the truth and excellence of his gospel. And oh! how important must that be, for which the Redeemer prays! There is nothing else important in the comparison. It is not important that we should be rich: the poor are to possess the kingdom. It is not important that we should be mighty: God hath chosen the feeble for his agents. It is not important that we should be distinguished: he hath promised to crown the lowly with everlasting honors. It is not important that we should be comfortable: "weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." But oh! it is important, beyond the power of tongue to tell or heart to conceive, that we should be preserved pure and holy amidst surrounding depravity and pollution, that we should ever maintain "the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace." Let us, then, join our petition to that of the great Redeemer, and watch against the deceitfulness of sin, and guard against the wiles and works of Satan, and co-operate with the grace of God to effect our own salvation, and never forget that preservation from evil is better than translation to paradise! He who hath redeemed us would not have us again captured. He who hath purified us would not have us again polluted. He who hath restored our title to the kingdom would not have us again disinherited. He who hath wrought in us an incipient preparation for his glory would not have us again disqualified for our destiny. He who hath given his life for our ransom, his flesh and blood for our nourishment, and all his eternal fulness for the endowment of our immortality, can never be indifferent to the spiritual wants and welfare of those who have been baptized into his death; and the request which he breathed so sweetly for his disciples while he was yet with them on earth, he has been repeating for all his people ever since he returned to heaven, "I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that thou shouldest keep them from the evil."

Trusting in him who thus pleads for his disciples, and seconding his gracious intercession with our own supplications, what have we to fear? Shall Jesus pray in vain for his redeemed? Shall he fail those who have committed their all to his advocacy? Will not the Father hear the petitions offered in the name of the Son with whom he is ever well pleased? Coming boldly through his merit and mediation to the throne of grace, shall we not certainly obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need? Will God leave to the lion and the wolf the sheep for whom the divine Shepherd cares so lovingly and pleads so earnestly? "Fear not, little flock! it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." And "if God be for us, who can be against us?" What evil agency or influence shall harm those who "dwell in the secret place of the Most High and abide under the shadow of the Almighty?" Are not the redeemed of his dear Son his jewels, his segulla, his peculiar treasure? Will he not hide them in the hollow of his hand, and guard them as the apple of his eye? "Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God's elect? It is God that justifieth; who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died; yea, rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long, we are counted as sheep for the slaughter. Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus, our Lord." Such is St. Paul's confidence, and such should be ours. But such confidence requires our hearty co-operation with Him who is always praying for our preservation from evil. We must steadfastly resist all temptations to sin. We must stand firmly and fight bravely against the world, the flesh, and the Devil. We must avail ourselves constantly of all the helps which the Church offers us in her services and her sacraments. God's grace is for those who ask it earnestly and use it faithfully. It is not in the power of Omnipotence to save from sin and Satan those who endeavor not to save themselves. You must be workers together with God, my dear brethren; and then all his attributes and resources are pledged to your success, and neither earth nor hell can do you any harm. Suffer, then, the word of exhortation, and forget not that the kingdom is taken by force and held by continual struggle. Especially important are these counsels and cautions to you who have just ratified your covenant with God in confirmation. Your rector assures me he never knew a more pleasant task than that which he enjoyed in preparing you for the hands of the bishop. As you sat before him in the lecture-room, he felt it a sweet privilege to talk to you so freely of Christian duty and responsibility. And when a new name was added to the list of candidates, he said in his heart—"Here is another gem for my Master's crown, another guest for his table, another chorister for his choir!" and he passed the new-comer over into the hands which were spiked for him to the cross, and his faith heard the angels rejoicing over one more sinner that repented. And many a time, no doubt, returning from the lecture to the privacy of his chamber, he knelt and commended you all, with tears of love and joy, to him who gathereth the lambs with his arms and carrieth them in his bosom. And often, during that sweet Lenten season, I know, he wrestled for you with the angel of the covenant through the livelong night, and ceased not till the blessing came upon the wings of the morning. Shall all his labor be lost upon you? Shall the fruit be blasted in the bud? Shall Satan and his servants triumph over the grace of God? Shall souls over which seraphs have sung hallelujahs excite the mirth and mockery of fiends by their fall? "Watch and pray that ye enter not into temptation." Observe daily your closet devotions. Never deny your Saviour by forsaking the holy eucharist. Cleave to your Church whatever may be her fortunes. Let no uncharitableness in the family drive you from your Mother's bosom. Let no wound that bleeds in your own breast imbitter you against any of her children. Oh! how painful it is, to see people who are angry at others wreaking their revenge upon themselves! out of malice to their brethren murdering their own immortal souls! spurning the bread of life and the wine of the kingdom because they have a quarrel with the hand that offers them! refusing to take another step toward heaven, and plunging incontinently back toward the gulf of hell, because they have conceived a dislike to some person who was travelling in their company! "If angels weep, it is at such a sight!" Oh! do ye not so, beloved! Hold fast whereunto ye have attained. Let no man take your crown. Most heartily "I commend you to God, and to the word of his grace, which is able to build you up, and to save your souls, and to give you inheritance with them that are sanctified through faith in Christ Jesus." And in all my petitions for you at "the throne of the heavenly Grace," I repeat the loving words of "the chief Shepherd" for his little flock—"I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that thou shouldest keep them from the evil."

XIX.

CONTENDING FOR THE FAITH.[1]

Beloved, when I gave all diligence to write unto you of the common salvation, it was needful for me to write unto you, and exhort you that ye should earnestly contend for the faith once delivered to the saints.—Jude 3.

And if such exhortation were needful then, when prophecy and miracles and the gift of tongues were still in the Church, authenticating the mission of the apostles, confirming the doctrines which they taught, and commending the common salvation to all who heard them; much more now, when all these signs and wonders have long since disappeared, and those holy men of God have been for eighteen centuries enjoying their repose in Paradise—now, when the predicted perilous times of the last days are come, and heresies and schisms everywhere abound, and human reason is exalted above divine revelation, and religion is denuded of all that is supernatural, and Omnipotence is subjected to the laws of science, and answers to prayer are pronounced impossible, and Christ is robbed of his essential glory, and man is become his own redeemer, and every article of the ancient creeds is called in question, and the authority of the Church in matters of faith is scoffed at as an exploded absurdity, and the old dogmatic formulas of Christian theology are consigned to oblivion and the bats, and every one's private judgment is worth more to him than the decisions of all the œcumenical councils, and there are not wanting those in every community who deem it wiser to make a religion for themselves than to accept that which has been given to them from heaven. Surely, now, if ever, might some faithful and uncompromising servant of Jesus Christ, inditing an epistle to his Christian brethren, assert the necessity of exhorting them to contend earnestly for the faith once delivered to the saints.

What, then, is this faith? and why and how must we contend for it? These questions allow me to answer.

As you all probably know, the word faith is used in different senses. Suffice it at present to say, there is a subjective faith, and there is an objective faith. The former is the act and habit of believing, which characterizes the Christian life; the latter is the divine truth believed, comprehending the whole body of Christian doctrine. When it is said we are justified by faith, we are saved by faith, we walk by faith, we live by faith, it is manifestly the habitual act of Christian believing that is intended—of relying upon Christ and trusting in him, as our wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption; when St. Paul speaks of holding the mystery of the faith, exhorts the Corinthians to stand fast in the faith, encourages Timothy to fight the good fight of faith, testifies of himself that he has kept the faith, it is evidently the system of Christian truth that he refers to—the doctrine that Christ came to reveal, sent his servants to proclaim, and established his Church on earth to maintain. This objective faith, being at once for all time and for all people authoritatively delivered to the saints—in the primitive creeds by apostolic tradition, in the Christian Scriptures by inspiration of God—admits of no alteration or addition, and needs none to adapt it to the ever-changing circumstances of men. What it was eighteen hundred years ago it is to-day; and what it is to-day it will be eighteen hundred years to come. Mutation is the law of all things earthly; but heavenly truth is immutable and eternal. Science is progressive, developing gradually by the slow process of induction; but the faith was delivered all at once, during the lifetime of our Lord on earth and the ministry of his inspired apostles, and can never be made more perfect than it was in the beginning. There are no new revelations in religion, no new discoveries of Christian truth. We must take the gospel as it comes to us, without attempting to improve or presuming to mutilate the system. The Church, in her militant probation, may pass through many successive phases; but the faith, like its divine Author, is "the same yesterday and to-day and forever." And for this Christians are called to contend—not for progress, not for science, not for freedom, not for glory, not for life itself; but for what is more precious than any or all of these—"the faith once delivered to the saints."

"Earnestly contend?" Whence this necessity? What more at variance with the prevalent ideas of the day? Who dreams now of warfare in the cause of Christian truth? Is not Christianity pre-eminently the religion of peace and love? Must we reject and oppose, as unsound or heretical, every thing that does not happen to fall within the limits of our own particular belief? May not every man hold his own opinion without assailing that of another man? Is not the gospel platform broad enough to afford room for all? Earnestly contend? "This is a hard saying; who can hear it?" I answer: there is one faith delivered, not many faiths; there is one system of divine truth revealed, not many systems. That one faith, that one system, whatever it is, we are required to adopt and maintain, to keep as we would keep a treasure, to guard as we would guard the crown-jewels of our King, to fight for as we would fight for what is dearer to us than life, and devote ourselves with the zeal of martyrs to its propagation among those who are ignorant of the blessing. The apostles knew nothing of compromise in matters of faith, and they bequeathed an unfinished warfare to their followers; who maintained the cause heroically, among sages and savages, in temples and dungeons, before thrones and tribunals, on the rack and amid the flames. All this, we know, is the very opposite of the popular sentiment of the age. Few among us seem to have any conception of a Christian's duty to defend the truth as it is in Jesus "to the last of their blood and their breath," battling and dying for a creed. The spear and the shield of the warrior are laid aside, and the trumpet no longer sounds for the battle, because peace is deemed more precious than purity, and controversy is more deprecated than false doctrine, and a man's belief is regarded as having nothing to do with his conduct and his character. But the apostles knew that the Church held a trust which involved inevitable warfare, and would turn the world into a battle-ground. This trust they transmitted, through their successors, from generation to generation, to us; and we are signed with the sign of the cross in baptism, as a token of our consecration to "the good fight of faith." The struggle may be strenuous as that of the wrestler in the arena, or fierce as that of the hero in the marshalled host; but this is every man's duty, to maintain the faith against all assailants, and strive to win for it a home in every human heart. Do men light a candle to put it under a bushel or a bed? Does the sun refuse to shine lest he should offend the bat or blind the owl? And shall the Christian conceal his faith or suppress his convictions to please those who hate the light because their deeds are evil? Nay, let him proclaim it boldly and defend it bravely, like a knight-banneret in the army of the Lord of hosts; and, whatever the cost, let him urge its claims with becoming zeal upon all whom his voice can reach. To neglect this is not charity, but apathy; not humility, but lukewarmness; not liberality of opinion, but infidelity to Christ. "The Lord hath spoken; who can but prophesy?" Christ hath commanded us to proselyte all nations; shall we be recreant to our responsibility? What value do we set upon the faith which we are not willing to defend—which we attempt not to teach to the world? Where is his love for man, or his loyalty to Christ, who says nothing, does nothing, gives nothing, for the diffusion of this heavenly light? His creed may be right, but his life is wrong. He may have a Christian head, but he has no Christian heart. He entertains the faith as a guest, but he does not fight for it as a prize.

Here, then, is the lesson of the text: our duty, the duty of all Christians, to contend earnestly for the dogmatic faith of the Church. Amid the deluge of ignorance and error and sin, this is the only ark of safety. Amid the mighty conflict of human speculations and philosophies, this is the only evangel of hope. From the beginning the faith has ever had its enemies and assailants. Wherever angels lodge, the Sodomites will batter at the door. All along through the ages, the saints have had to fight for the one faith, and they must fight for it to the end. Oh! not of peaceful homes, and tranquil communities, and brethren dwelling together in unity, do the words of the apostle breathe; but of divided tongues, and imbittered spirits, and the tenderest relations of life bristling around us like the iron front of battle; and as one who rides along the line of his marshalled host, he shouts to us across the centuries, and bids us earnestly contend for the faith. All those sublime verities for which "the noble army of martyrs" bled, are committed to the vigilance and championship not only of the clergy, but of each baptized believer. Some are to vindicate them by argument; all by practical exhibitions of their regenerating power. Who does not kindle at the thought of being associated in such a struggle with St. Paul and St. John, with Ignatius and Polycarp, with Athanasius and Augustine—men whose names yet thrill the hearts of millions? Now let us have done with concessions. Away with truce and armistice. The faith is worth the conflict. None can afford to be neutral. We must all fight or perish. Look practically, then, at the solemn necessity before you. "Multitudes, multitudes, in the valley of decision; for the day of the Lord is near in the valley of decision." Arise, my brethren, armed with the whole armor of God, and go forth to battle! Remember that the saints of all ages are with you; that the victor Lamb is the captain of your host; that the weapons of your warfare are mighty through God; that your guerdon is an unfading crown of glory, and your destined home a house eternal in the heavens! Go and contend for the faith, as those contended who now sleep in Jesus! Go and battle valiantly under his banner, who hath promised you a seat in his throne!

XX.

THE FRUITLESS FIG-TREE.[1]

How soon is the fig-tree withered away!—Matt. xxi. 20.

Next Friday we follow our Saviour to the cross. The last few days before his death are crowded with some of the most significant acts of his ministry. One of these we are now called to contemplate—the withering of the fruitless fig-tree by his word. To-day being the anniversary of that event, it is appropriately chosen as the theme of our discourse. Like all the other miracles of our Lord, this is a parable in action. The fruitless tree represents the Jewish people, and its fate foreshadows their terrible doom. In this interpretation we are warranted by a parable of the divine Teacher uttered a few days earlier—that of the barren fig-tree in the vineyard, for which the vine-dresser intercedes with the proprietor and obtains a further probation. The apostles, who had heard the parable and now saw the miracle, could scarcely fail to connect the one with the other, and to refer both to the infidelity and fearful punishment of the chosen people, as they exclaimed—"How soon is the fig-tree withered away!"

Fifteen hundred years before, God had brought a goodly shoot out of Egypt, and planted it in a very fruitful hill, and hedged it about with wondrous providences, and watered it with constant dews and seasonable rains, and enriched the soil around it with a thousand gracious appliances, and waited on it patiently with a careful and diligent husbandry. And it sent down its roots deep into the earth, and threw up its leafy branches high toward heaven, and gave good promise of abundant fruit. Then he sent his prophets to prune it, and stir the soil around it, and watch over it night and day. And the wild beast that gnawed its bark was pierced by the arrow of the Almighty, and the hand that raised an axe against it fell smitten by the lightning of heaven. But, instead of producing figs, it wasted its luxuriant life in leaves. Then came the Proprietor in person, hungering for the fruit of his labor; and, finding none, he tarried and toiled with it three years, and watered with frequent tears its deceitful foliage. But all was in vain, and he was forced at last to pronounce its doom, and leave it blasted and decaying upon its fruitful hill.

Let us drop the figure. Never before the incarnation was there another people so highly favored as the Hebrews. God chose them for his own, and established his covenant with them, and talked with them from heaven, and dwelt in their midst upon the mercy-seat, and led them forty years with a pillar of cloud and fire in the wilderness, and smote every enemy that rose up against them, and exterminated mighty nations to make room for them in Canaan, and brought them into the goodly land which he had promised to their fathers—a land flowing with milk and honey, which he gave them for a perpetual inheritance. But how often they forgot his covenant, and forsook his ordinances, and turned aside after other gods, and provoked him to anger with their inventions! Then he hewed them by the prophets and chastised them by the heathen, but they would not return from their evil ways. He permitted their cities to be sacked, their young men to be slain in battle, their virgins to be carried away captive, and their kings to serve in chains at the tables of the uncircumcised. When they returned to him with weeping and supplication, he returned to them with loving-kindness and tender mercies. "Is Ephraim my dear son? Is he a pleasant child? For since I spake against him, I do earnestly remember him still. Therefore my heart is troubled for him. I will surely have mercy upon him, saith the Lord."

But after all, when Christ came, he found only fruitless foliage upon his long-cherished fig-tree. Mint, anise, and cummin were scrupulously tithed; but the weightier matters of the law—judgment, mercy and faith—were altogether neglected and forgotten. The phylacteries were large, the prayers were loud and long, the chief seats in the synagogue were always occupied, and no poor man in vain stretched forth his hand for alms; but the religion of the Jew ran all to superstitious observances and ostentatious formalities, divine precepts were sacrificed to human traditions, a nation of hypocrites could not produce the fruits of righteousness; and, given up at last to the grossest self-delusion, they rejected their King and crucified the Lord of glory. How graciously he had labored! how anxiously he had watched and waited! and yet there was no grateful return for all his arduous toil and loving care. But is he willing to cut down the worthless tree, or blast it with his curse? See! he is crossing the ridge of Olivet on his way to Jerusalem, riding in triumph amidst the acclamations of the multitude who have witnessed his miracles and confessed his Messiahship, his path carpeted with their garments and covered with branches of the palm. Reaching the brow of the hill, he looks down upon the beautiful city, lying like a jewelled crown before him. He thinks of all his labor for her children, and all their base ingratitude and suicidal unbelief. He knows that those who are now shouting him on his way with hosannahs will soon be clamoring for his crucifixion and mocking around his cross. Full well he knows that the chosen race will shortly have filled up the measure of their guilt, and wrath will come upon them to the uttermost. And as the vision of their ruin rises upon the eye of his spirit, with the long ages of unparalleled tribulation and despair which must succeed the catastrophe of the beloved city, he weeps as only Infinite Compassion can weep, and laments as only an incarnate God can lament:—"Oh that thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong to thy peace! but now they are hid from thine eyes; for the days shall come upon thee, when thine enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and shall keep thee in on every side, and shall lay thee even with the ground, and thy children within thee, and shall not leave in thee one stone upon another, because thou knewest not the time of thy visitation." In about sixty years all is fulfilled—the temple burned, the streets heaped with the dead, the plough driven over the ruins, and the hopeless remnant of a reprobate race scattered in isolated exile over the face of the earth. The curse has fallen, and "how soon is the fig-tree withered away!"

And we, my brethren—shall we not take warning from the fate of the unfaithful people? "Dried up from the roots," the old Jewish tree has been torn from the soil and cast into the fire; and we—alien shoots from without the enclosure—have been transplanted into the vineyard of the Lord. Disinherited and undone, the murderers of God's Messiah are strangers and fugitives to-day over the face of the planet; but we have succeeded to their inheritance, glorified with new revelations of grace and truth. Baptized into a better covenant, with a better Mediator than Moses, we rejoice in the mercies and immunities of a better theocracy than Israel ever knew. In the midst of our camp Jehovah has pitched his tabernacle; and by the more glorious ministration of the Spirit, through the word and sacraments of an everlasting testament, he is seeking to make us fruitful in righteousness and true holiness. Brought nigh to God by adoption and regeneration, we become heirs of his kingdom and joint-heirs with his first-born—partakers of his life and expectants of his immortality. And now we have enjoyed another season of merciful visitation, and the daily services of Lent have been like vernal sun and shower to the fig-tree. Have we borne fruit, or only leaves? Has our penitential humiliation been real and effectual, or only feigned and perfunctory? Have these thirty-six days in the holy mount deepened our communion with God and intensified our love of holiness? Are we purer and wiser than we were on Ash-Wednesday—stronger to resist evil and do good—more like Christ in meekness and charity and self-denial? Be assured, my dear brethren, that your privileges bring with them a fearful responsibility. If you have received the grace of God in vain, your Lent has been a curse, and not a blessing; and the mercies by which you have failed to profit have enhanced unspeakably your condemnation. "He that knoweth his master's will, and doeth it not, shall be beaten with many stripes;" and "he that, being often reproved, hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy." Ah! how many of us have no heart for the service of God—no pleasure in that which enraptures the seraphim! Conscience impels them one way, but inclination draws them more powerfully the other; and duty is constantly sacrificed to carnal gratifications, worldly interests, and vain ambitions. They fear God, but love him not; and though they cannot sin without a tremor, the tremor is not strong enough to repress the sin. Generally at church, they do all they can to support the public worship and encourage the heart of the clergy; but here ends their all of duty, their all of practical religion, their all of gratitude for the unspeakable love of Christ—mere foliage without any satisfying fruit.

And what can the end be but a blasting malediction from the Master? Long, indeed, may he continue his merciful efforts to make such Christians fruitful; but when his grace is habitually rejected or perverted—when his Holy Spirit is forced to strive in vain with an obdurate heart and a will obstinately set on evil—he will withhold his favors, or grant them less frequently and in inferior measure. Meanwhile sins multiply, bad habits grow stronger, the roots of vice strike deeper, and its branches grow broader and higher; till at length comes the hot wind from the desert, beneath which every green thing becomes crisp and sear. Christ rejected, there remaineth no more sacrifice for sin, and he who has lived in impenitence dies in despair. Oh! when conscience presents the long catalogue of uncancelled crimes, and only a few moments of wasted life remain, what can the dying sinner do? When his broken vows, abused mercies, and neglected opportunities, through all the corridors of memory come trooping up like the vengeful ghosts of the murdered, whither will he fly for refuge? Or the advent of the last enemy may be a sudden surprise, unexpected as the crash of a ship under full sail upon some sunken rock; launching the poor soul, all unprovided, with a shudder and a shriek into an unsounded sea. Or if a little space be given the delinquent, yet through the violence of his disorder the mind may be quite incapable of a rational repentance, drifting like the wrecked mariner upon a spar at the mercy of wind and wave. But in whatever form and with whatever circumstances Death may come, he comes ever to the impenitent as an avenger—avenger of God's neglected mercy—avenger of Christ's insulted love; and a fearful thing it is—fearful beyond all power of language to express—to die without hope in Christ and unreconciled to God. Oh! to be forced out at midnight, amidst howling tempests and roaring billows—no compass to guide nor star to cheer—on the eternal voyage! Beware, then, beloved, lest that come upon you which our blessed Lord foretold of those who rejected his mission: "Ye shall die in your sins, and where I am ye cannot come."

With only two exceptions, Christ's recorded miracles are all works of mercy, wrought for the relief of suffering and the consolation of sorrow; and even these exceptions, which may be called miracles of judgment—performed, the one upon irrational animals, and the other on an insensible tree—show the aversion of his tender heart to severity and vengeance. He is long-suffering, unwilling that any should perish, desiring that all should be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth. He smites only where he cannot cure. As long as there is any hope of reformation, he spares the unthankful and the evil; and never, till all possibility of salvation is past, does he visit the incorrigible with punishment. Justice must have its claim as well as mercy; and, mercy rejected, justice must avenge. The terribleness of the retribution makes nothing against its righteousness; and though it send a tremor through all the worlds of God, the obstinate transgressor shall not go unpunished. Very terrible indeed it is, and imagination staggers beneath the apprehension of the wrath of the Lamb; but terrible also was the deluge, and the fate of Sodom, and the slaughter of the Egyptian first-born, and the overthrow of Pharaoh and his host, and the end of Korah and his mutinous company, and the destruction of seventy thousand Israelites at a stroke, and the death of a hundred and eighty-five thousand Assyrians in a single night, and the sudden catastrophe of Nineveh and Babylon with all their pomp and their power, and the wrath which fell in its manifold final infliction upon the chosen people when the day of their merciful visitation was over and ended; but the terribleness of the vengeance did not stay the avenging hand of Justice, when Mercy, with broken heart, retired and left the guilty to their fate. And the dawn of the last day will be terrible, and the coming of the Son of man will be terrible, and the destruction of the Antichrist will be terrible, and the conflagration of the universe will be terrible, and terrible beyond all precedent the punishment of reprobate impenitence when the Lord Jesus with his holy angels shall be revealed from heaven in flaming fire! The tree may long lift its green boughs to the sun and toss its gay blossoms to the breeze; but when the Master comes for fruit and finds nothing but a deceitful promise, smitten with his curse it shall quickly wither away.

Let us make haste to avert the vengeance. In this our gracious day—this clement mediatorial hour—let us invoke the Holy Spirit to aid us in bringing forth fruit meet for repentance. Think not that the work will be easier in coming years, when passion is weakened, and temptation is lessened, and coercive grace comes to conquer the rebel will and reclaim the alien heart. Alas! by every hour's delay you are riveting the fetters of evil habit, and multiplying and consolidating the barriers to your salvation; and the special grace for which you wait will never come till God shall revise his evangel and Christ change the whole economy of his kingdom. Now is your time for conversion, and a better moment will never occur between this and eternity. Hark! it is the voice of the Master: "Cut it down! why cumbereth it the ground?" Hark! it is the voice of the Vine-dresser: "Lord! let it alone till another Lent! I will renew my efforts; I will redouble my endeavors; I will try some new expedients; peradventure next year will reward thy forbearance with the long-expected fruit!" Oh! prayer of crucified compassion! shall it not be answered? Oh! prophecy of ill-requited mercy! shall it not be fulfilled? Beloved, it is for you to say. God hath spoken, and uttered all his heart. Henceforth all depends upon yourselves. Answer your Saviour's prayer, fulfil your Saviour's prophecy, and so avert the judgment of unfruitfulness; or else prepare for the unutterable alternative—your Saviour's blighting curse!

XXI.

CHRISTIAN CONTENTMENT.[1]

I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.—Phil. iv. 11.

An instance of the moral sublime, which none can fail to admire, and all should endeavor to emulate. What an ornament of the gospel is such a spirit! What a commendation of Christianity is such a testimony! No human philosophy, no stoical indifference, no diligence of self-discipline, ever elevated the soul of man to so serene and pure an atmosphere—nothing but that religion which the Son of God brought with him from heaven to earth, the tendency and design of which is to raise its human subjects from earth to heaven. "I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content."

Contentment is satisfaction with one's lot or condition. The word conveys the idea of fulness and sufficiency. It is opposed to envy, which is displeased with the prosperity of others. It is opposed to ambition, which is not satisfied with equality, but aspires to superiority. It is opposed to avarice, which grasps all it can reach, keeps all it obtains, and "sayeth not it is enough." It is opposed to anxiety, which is always taking needless thought for the morrow, saying, "What shall we eat? what shall we drink? and wherewithal shall we be clothed?" It is opposed to murmuring and repining, which is an ungrateful distrust of God, an unjust arraignment of his providence, an impious impeachment of his wisdom and goodness, a presumptuous spirit of rebellion against his righteous government.

St. Paul's statement seems to express complete and perfect satisfaction. In the highest sense this is applicable only to Jehovah, who is El Shaddai, God All-sufficient. But in a lower sense it is true, to a greater or less degree, of all good men. They have no sufficiency in themselves, but their sufficiency is of God. Of his fulness they have all received—the unsearchable riches of Christ. With the fatness of his house they are abundantly satisfied, and he makes them drink from the river of his pleasures. This is the only satisfying portion of the soul. Without this, men may be indifferent—may be jovial and reckless; but these are not contentment—are perhaps the very opposites of contentment; indifference, the sullen obstinacy of a perverse and rebellious will, as far from contentment as it is from submission; jovial recklessness, the effort of a restless heart to throw off its burden of care and trouble—the revolt of the whole man against Providence and against conscience. But when Divine Love brings us to its banqueting-house, and God becomes our shield and exceeding great reward, then the fluctuating soul returns to its native rest, like Naphthali satisfied with favor and full with the blessing of the Lord.

When the apostle says—"I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content," no one can imagine that he refers to his former state of sin; for of that he constantly speaks in terms of strong regret, and as long as he lived he never ceased to sorrow for the evil he had done. Nor are we to suppose that he means to express his full satisfaction with his present state of grace; for he is always hungering and thirsting after the fulness of God; and no Christian can be fully satisfied with his spiritual attainments till he awakes in the likeness of his Lord.

If there can be any doubt of the apostle's meaning, the verses immediately following may solve it: "I know both how to be abased and how to abound; everywhere, and in all things, I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, to abound and to suffer need; I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." These several conditions he had tested by experience; and found himself able, by the grace of God, to maintain a calm and unperturbed spirit amidst all their trying vicissitudes: thoroughly assured that all were ordered or overruled by Infinite Wisdom and Love, and must therefore work together for his good.

In another place he says: "Most gladly will I glory in mine infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me; therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then am I strong." To be content in success and prosperity, were easy enough; but to be content in trials such as these, immeasurably surpasses the power of the unsanctified human heart. The apostle, however, bore his tribulations, not merely with patient submission and quiet fortitude, but even with exultation; rejoicing evermore; in every thing giving thanks; counting the heaviest cross his greatest blessing; with all his heart glorying in the fellowship of his Saviour's suffering; willing to live or die, because in life or death God would be magnified in his body; and when the alternative presents itself in imminent prospect, perplexed only as to which he ought to prefer: "I am in a strait betwixt two; having a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better; nevertheless, to abide in the flesh is more needful for you; and having this confidence, I know that I shall abide and continue with you all for your furtherance and joy of faith, that your rejoicing may be more abundant by my coming to you again." What heroic resignation is here! what disinterested charity! what transcendent sublimity of hope!

And how had the apostle attained to such experience? In what school, from what teacher, had he learned so great a lesson? Certainly not from nature, nor from any human system of morality. Ever since man went forth from the blessed garden, he has been a restless and unhappy creature, always seeking repose for his spirit in some inferior good, and ever disappointed in the end. Contentment is a lesson to be learned, and to be learned only, in the school of Christ. There St. Paul learned it, not at the feet of Gamaliel. There he learned it, under the tuition of Providence, aided by the Holy Spirit of grace, by a long and painful course of discipline—by hunger and thirst, cold and nakedness, desertion and persecution, shipwreck and dungeon, scourging and stoning, a life of perpetual conflict, and the frequent menace of death.

So others have learned it. And what a blessed lesson it is, well learned! Aaron, when his sons were smitten, "held his peace." And Eli, when informed of coming judgments, said: "It is the Lord; let him do what seemeth him good." And Job, bereft of every earthly comfort, exclaimed: "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." And David, trained in every school of affliction, is ever singing of the loving-kindness of the Lord, and extolling the excellence of his mercy which endureth forever. Such contentment as these instances exemplify, nothing can produce but the grace of God in co-operation with his providence, the one purifying and the other disciplining the heart. But when we learn to draw water from the wells of salvation, we shall imbibe contentment with the draught. Believing in Christ as our Saviour, we shall confide in God as our Father. All made right within, all will be right without. An Almighty Friend in heaven—"a very present help in trouble," we have no real cause for anxious thought or disquieting fear. Faith overcomes all apprehension of evil, and enables every saint to sing with the psalmist—"The Lord is my portion, Faith my soul, therefore will I hope in him;" and to say with the apostle—"I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content."

Brethren, let us aspire to this apostolic experience. In this grace, why should we not equal St. Paul? Is it not the high calling of every Christian? And what reason for discontent have we, that this noble hero had not? Our present state, like his, is God's appointment, and only for a season; and the discipline of sorrow and conflict may be no less needful for us than it was for him, and the result no less a blessing.

How much worldly good is necessary for any of us? how much wealth, honor, happiness? Most of our wants are artificial and unreal. We create them, or imagine them, and then complain that they are not supplied. Our first needs—our only absolute needs—are food and raiment; and having these, we are divinely counselled to be content. And many have been content with much less of them than we possess, and no health for their enjoyment—have been content without either sufficient food or comfortable raiment, and for years scarcely an hour of exemption from pain—content in great poverty and utter destitution, on the bed of sickness, in the gloom of the dungeon, under the foreshadow of martyrdom—consoling themselves with the assurance that God hath chosen the poor of this world, the afflicted, the persecuted, rich in faith, and heirs, of his heavenly kingdom.

And to be content—is it not, after all, the best way to be well supplied? "Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you." Will not the Good Shepherd provide for his confiding sheep? Will not he who clothes the lilies and feeds the sparrows regard your necessities, O ye of little faith? Can you not trust the bounty of your King, the affection of your Father? "Cast all your care upon him, for he careth for you." Jacob asked food and raiment, and God gave him also abundant flocks and herds. Solomon prayed for a wise and understanding heart, and received in addition great riches and honor. With the divine love you are rich, whatever else you lack; without it poor, whatever else you possess.

And what avails your discontent? What can it bring you but present trouble and future regret? Why disquiet yourselves in vain? Can all your anxiety change the color of a hair, or add a moment to your little all of life? Does not God know what is best for you, and will he alter his wise and gracious economy to gratify your foolish and capricious desires? What claim have you on him? What service have you ever done him? What benefit has he ever received from your virtue? Nay, you are sharers of a thousand blessings, not one of which have you merited. Rightly estimating yourselves, instead of murmuring against God, you would be ready to say with the pilgrim patriarch: "I am not worthy of the least of all the mercy and truth which thou hast shown unto thy servant."

But discontent is ingratitude. Recently redeemed from the iron furnace, shall the children of Israel complain of their hard fare in the wilderness, spurn the manna, clamor for flesh, and talk of the fish they freely ate in Egypt, of the cucumbers and the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlics? Let them remember the toils of the brick-kiln, the voice of the oppressor, the scourge of the task-master, and all the burdens which there imbittered their lives. And you, have you not infinitely more ground for gratitude than for grumbling? God's mercies, fresh every morning and new every evening, crowd the day and crown the night. One single gift hath he bestowed—one unspeakable gift—the channel through which all others flow—worth more than a solar system to every child of Adam. Redeemed by the blood of Christ, every moment becomes an inestimable mercy; nay, every breath becomes a thousand mercies; nay, every pulse metes out incalculable mercies by the million; and while we receive them, what deserve we but reprobation and ruin infinite? Add to these the many great and exceeding precious promises with which the Bible overflows, all pointing to an incorruptible inheritance reserved for you in heaven; and tell me, have you no cause to be content?

All things ours—God with all his communicable fulness—Christ with all his riches of grace and glory—heaven with all its clustering honors and immunities—who will not say: "Return unto thy rest, O my soul! for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee"? Ye who now like Lazarus have your evil things on earth, will you not hereafter with Lazarus be comforted in Abraham's bosom? Oh! what is poverty to you who are to inherit all things—heirs of God and joint-heirs with Jesus Christ? What are toil and pain, reproach and persecution, the utter prostration of health, the loss of every living friend, and the burial of all you ever loved below, to you who look for your Lord's return from heaven, the renovation of the world, the redemption of the body, the immortal fellowship of the just, and the termination of all the sad vicissitudes of time in the blissful calm of eternal content?

And those of you who are trying to content yourselves with these fleeting vanities! know ye not that your treasures will decay, your glories wither, and all the delights of sense perish with the world? What will you do when the ground dissolves beneath you, and the atmosphere around you becomes flame? A surer trust we proffer you, and a nobler felicity. Come and feed your famishing souls with the hidden manna of God, and slake your spirit's thirst from the fountain of living waters. Here, in the love of God—here, in the blood of Christ—here, in the assurance of pardon—here, resting upon the Rock of ages—here, anchored in a sure and steadfast hope—you shall learn at last the tranquil blessedness of true content!

XXII.

"YE KNOW THE GRACE."[1]

Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, that ye through his poverty might be rich.—2 Cor. viii. 9.

To the rich, commonly, what is more terrible than poverty? So great, sometimes, their dread of it, that they seek to avoid or avert it by measures the most dishonorable and even the most desperate. Rather than be poor, many will practise the worst hypocrisies or commit the greatest crimes. For thirty pieces of silver, more than one Judas has sold his Saviour to the murderers and his own soul to Satan; and to escape the possible condition of Lazarus at his gate, many a Dives has slain himself in his palace. Horrified at such insanity, we scarcely wonder at the fear from which it springs. The noblest spirits quake at the thought of want, and a prospective reverse of fortune is enough to make the bravest quail.

Yet are there cases on record in which men and women, for some worthy principle, have cheerfully welcomed absolute privation, or patiently endured the destitution of all things. The fear of God, the love of truth, devotion to duty, domestic affection, patriotic sentiment, disinterested philanthropy—have not some of these again and again led the dwellers in palaces to the hovel and the hermitage, substituting for the downy couch a pallet of straw, for the purple and fine linen a suit of sack-cloth, and for the daily sumptuous banquet a crust of bread and a cup of water? While we recognize in such cases only a conscientious service rendered to God or a life of superior charity to his rational and immortal creatures, we can but admire and honor the noble principle that thus renounces the conveniences and advantages of high birth and ample fortune for the lowest conditions of civilized humanity. The impulse is divine; the spirit is that of Christ. Some become poor through misfortune, some through improvidence, some through criminal indulgence, these through stanch adherence to duty. If they had not relinquished their riches, they must have repudiated the authority of conscience and let go their hold on virtue. Poverty has saved its thousands, where wealth has ruined its tens of thousands.

Here we are reminded of One who was originally rich beyond all human conception, but became poorer than the poorest that ever trod the earth—not because he desired the change, nor because he could not help it, nor because it was his bounden duty, nor because a superior bade him, nor because the perishing implored him, but because he loved us with an infinite love—beyond all imagination of men or angels.

First, then, we must think of the poverty of Christ as the manifestation of his grace. What was it but purest goodness, gratuitous favor, unmerited compassion, that moved him to forsake his glory and become the brother of worms and the Man of sorrows? What saw he in this revolted province of his boundless empire, that he should come to seek and save the self-destroyed? Among all the myriads of Adam's children, what one quality was there worthy of his love? Who solicited his aid, or repented of his own sin? What obligation pressed or necessity impelled the Saviour? Had he remained indifferent to our helpless woes in the heavenly mansions, who could have impeached one of his perfections? Had he smitten this guilty planet from its orbit, and sent it staggering among the stars—a reprobate world—a warning to the universe of the ruin wrought by sin—might not the minstrelsy of heaven have chanted over its catastrophe—"Just and true are thy ways, thou King of saints!" Perfectly he foreknew all that awaited him in his mission of mercy; yet with what divine alacrity did he vacate his throne, leave the bosom of his Father, and retire from the adoring host of heaven—as if a loftier throne, a more loving bosom, and a worthier concourse of worshippers, were ready to greet him in the world to which he came!

Secondly, we must consider the poverty of Christ in contrast with his previous riches. How much we commiserate the poor who have seen better days! His better days what human art shall depict or finite mind conceive? Lift up your thoughts to the glorious state of the Eternal Son in the bosom of God the Father. As yet the worlds are not; no star reflects his smile, nor seraph chants his praise; but, possessed of every divine excellence in the most transcendent degree, he has within himself an infinite source of happiness. Now he arises to the work of creation, and myriads of self-luminous suns, each with his retinue of rejoicing planets, begin their eternal march around his throne. All are his, created by him and for him; and all their countless billions of rational and immortal beings own him as their supreme Lord, and adore him as the sole giver of every good and perfect gift. Down from all this glory he descended into one of the poorest provinces of his illimitable realm, assuming the frail and suffering nature of its fallen people,

Having a body and a soul like ours, he was liable to all our temptations and infirmities; and suffering—the just for the unjust—that he might bring us to God, he became poorer than the poorest of those whom by his poverty he sought to redeem. Surely, had he so chosen, with all the pomp and splendor of royal state he might have made his advent; but see! he comes as the first-born of an obscure family—a stable his birthplace—a manger his cradle; through all the years of his youth, subject to his parents, and toiling at Joseph's side with the carpenter's saw and plane; and when at the age of thirty he enters upon his Messianic mission, having no home but such as a poor fisherman can offer him at Capernaum; often hungering and thirsting over the fields and fountains of his own creation, everywhere hated for his love and persecuted for his purity; and at last basely betrayed into the hands of his enemies, abandoned and denied by his disciples, falsely accused of blasphemy, and cruelly condemned to the cross; while the powers of hell, in all their might and their malice, co-operate with the murderers of the Lord's Anointed; and the loving Father, laying on him the iniquities of us all, withdraws from the scene of infamous horrors, and leaves the immaculate victim to die alone in the darkness.

Thirdly, we must contemplate the poverty of Christ in relation to the enrichment of his people. For our sake it was—for our benefit—as our substitute—he became poor, that we through his poverty might be rich. "What are a million of human lives," said the great Napoleon, "to the scheme of a man like me?" Infinitely more sublime was the scheme of Jesus Christ, sacrificing no human interest to his own ambition, but enriching all his followers with the durable riches of righteousness. Benevolence, not ambition, was the grand impulse of his action. To save mankind from sin and Satan—to quicken dead souls with the power of an endless life—he came forth from the Father, sojourned in voluntary exile among rebels, and joyfully laid down his life for their redemption. How much the apostles write of "the riches of his grace"! How sweetly they assure us that he "hath chosen the poor of this world, rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them that love him"! He became poorer than we, to make us as rich as himself—joint-heirs with him to an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, that fadeth not away, reserved for us in heaven. Already, indeed, the believer is rich in faith, rich in love, rich in peace, rich in joy, and rich in hope; but when the dear Lord shall return to consummate in glory the salvation thus begun by grace, the saints shall enter with him the everlasting kingdom, satisfied with his likeness and radiant with his joy. Rejoice then, O my brother! in the unsearchable riches of Christ. Is the culprit enriched by pardon on the scaffold? So Christ hath pardoned thee. Is the exile enriched by the edict that calls him home? So Christ hath recalled the banished. Is the leper enriched by the cure of his foul disease? So Christ cleanses the soul that comes to him. Is the disinherited enriched by the restoration of his lost estate? Jesus has bought back for us our forfeited possessions, and made them ours by an everlasting covenant. Is the prisoner enriched by the power that gives him freedom? If the Son makes us free, we are free indeed, and hell cannot enslave the ransomed soul. Is the alien child enriched by adoption into the royal household, making him heir to the crown? Brought nigh by redeeming blood, I become interested in all that belongs to my Lord, and whatever he receives from the Father I am to share with him in the kingdom of his glory. His voluntary poverty in my behalf makes him my Brother and associates me with him upon the throne. Taking my earthly station, he raises me to his heavenly honors. Bearing my manifold infirmities, he assures me of a share in his infinite blessedness. Emptying himself of his glory for me, he fills me with all the fulness of God! Thus we know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ—not, indeed, in all the amplitude of its extension, nor in all the plenitude of its comprehension; but adequately to our necessity as sinners, and adequately to our duty and privilege as Christians—we know it, and rejoice in it with unspeakable joy. What returns shall we make, or how express our gratitude? Shall we be like him who, having promised Mercury part of his nuts, ate the kernels himself, and gave the god the shells? Shall we not imitate the Macedonian churches, that first gave their own selves to the Lord, and then sent their liberal collections to the poor saints at Jerusalem? When we have given ourselves, what else can we withhold from him who gave all his wealth to enrich us, and has enriched us most by giving us himself?

THE REV. DR. JOSEPH CROSS'S WORKS.

KNIGHT BANNERET. Sermons. By the Rev. Joseph Cross, D.D., LL.D. 1 vol. 303 pp. 12mo, cloth. $1.50.

"Its literary qualities will charm still another class of readers, for imagination has filled its pages with pictures from near and from far; fancy has lavished its every color upon them; they gleam with an unstinted splendor of rhetoric, or glow with an eager, consuming intensity of conviction."—Am. Church Review.

"The sermons are serious and conservative in theological position, practical and assisted toward their end by an unusual amount of illustration and metaphor."—The Independent.

"They [the sermons] are pervaded by an intensely earnest spirit, full of Christ and his salvation, and suited to be useful. The author's style and method of treatment are oratorical, and we find many vigorous and eloquent passages."—Lutheran Quarterly.

"The diction is always magnificent, always elegant, and the thought never fails of clearness."—The Living Church.

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"They are distinguished by remarkable intellectual force, point and brilliancy of statement, short, vigorous sentences, and a desire to benefit his fellows by teaching them the truth."—The Keystone.

EVANGEL. Sermons for Parochial Missions. By the Rev. Joseph Cross, D.D., LL.D. 1 vol. 303 pp. 12mo, cloth. $1.50.

"Not for a long time have we pored over pages glowing with so much gospel power and spiritual radiance."—Michigan Christian Advocate.

"This volume of sermons is one of the very best we have recently met with for the lay reader or for family reading."—Church Guardian.

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"There is in them just what is indispensable to success on such occasions,—the flowing earnestness of a spirit that burns with the love and glory of the message it has to deliver."—The Living Church.

EDENS OF ITALY. By the Rev. Joseph Cross, D.D., LL.D. With more than one hundred illustrations, map, and index. 1 vol. Royal 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. $5.00.

"He writes without exaggeration, and with a strong sense of enjoyment in a land that constantly surprises him by its varied beauty.... The work takes the reader along by its clearness, and there is no better test of a descriptive book."—Cincinnati Commercial.

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COALS FROM THE ALTAR. Sermons for the Christian Year. By the Rev. Joseph Cross, D.D., LL.D. 2 vols. 12mo, cloth. $1.50 each.

Vol. I., Advent to Ascension. Vol. II., Ascension to Advent.

"They are aptly named 'Coals from the Altar,' for they are admirably adapted to kindle a flame of fire in the Christian heart. The author's wealth of imagery, his warm sympathy and personal appeals, his fine descriptive powers and flow of language, his deep pathos and tenderness, do not need the fervor and emphasis of the living voice to send home the arrow of truth; but his sermons touch the feelings equally when addressed to the eye, by means of type, and become an efficient ministry of good."—The Churchman.

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PAULINE CHARITY. Discourses on the Thirteenth Chapter of St. Paul's First Epistle to the Corinthians. By the Rev. Joseph Cross, D.D., LL.D. 1 vol. 12mo, cloth. $1.50.

"These sermons are eminently instructive and stimulating; the great central truth of practical religion is forcibly presented and well illustrated, and the discourse is often marked with special vigor and eloquence."—Zion's Herald.

"These are clear, instructive, thoroughly evangelical, and highly edifying. They will serve as good models for young ministers, in style, spirit, and directness of address."—Lutheran Observer.

"The sermons included in the volume before us are vigorous and fluent; and, though the author calls them 'old-fashioned homilies,' they are neither dry nor antiquated in style or thought."—Good Literature.

"These are of sermons which leave an influence that the hearer carries into his daily thought and conduct."—Boston Globe.

OLD WINE AND NEW. Occasional discourses. By the Rev. Joseph Cross, D.D., LL.D. 1 vol. 12mo, cloth.

Just Issued.

Copies mailed postpaid on receipt of price.

THOMAS WHITTAKER, Publisher, 2 and 3 Bible House, New York.

By JOSEPH CROSS, D.D., LL.D.

THOMAS WHITTAKER,

PUBLISHER,

2 AND 3 BIBLE HOUSE......NEW YORK.