Parish Papers by Norman Macleod (page 4)

any description of Christianity on paper, as compared to the living epistle, which all men can read?

_We want Christian men and women_; not their books or their money only, but _themselves_. The poor and needy ones who, in this great turmoil of life, have found no helper among their fellows; the wicked and outcast, whose hand is against every man’s, because they have found, by dire experience of the world’s selfishness, how every man’s hand is against them; the prodigal and broken-hearted children of the human family, who have the bitterest thoughts of God and man, if they have any thoughts at all beyond their own busy contrivances how to live and to indulge their craving passions,–all these, by the mesmerism of the heart, and by means of that great witness, conscience, which God, in mercy, leaves as a light from heaven in the most abject dwelling on earth, can, to some extent, read the living epistle of a renewed soul, written in the divine characters of the Holy Spirit. They can see and feel, as they never did anything else in this world, the love which calmly shines in that eye, telling of inward light and peace possessed, and of a place of rest found and enjoyed by the weary heart! They can understand and appreciate the unselfishness–to them a thing hitherto hardly dreamt of–which prompted this visit from a home of comfort or refinement, to an unknown abode of squalor or disease, and which expresses itself in those kind words and looks that accompany the visit. They can perceive the reality of the piety, which also reads to them, in touching tones, the glory of Him who came to seek and save the lost; and their souls cannot refuse some amen, however faint, echoed by their very misery, and from their yearnings for a good they have never known, to that earnest prayer of faith uttered, in the bonds of a common brotherhood, to one who is addressed as a common Father, through a common Lord. If ever society is to be regenerated, it is by the agency of living brothers and sisters in the Lord; and every plan, however apparently wise, for recovering mankind from their degradation, and which does not make the _personal_ ministrations of Christian men and women an essential part of it, its very _life_, is doomed, we think, to perish.

It is thus that our Father has ever dealt with His lost children. He has in every age of the world spoken to men by living men; and “God, who at sundry times, and in divers manners, spake unto our fathers by the prophets, has in these latter days spoken to us by his Son!”

But are there any willing to labour? Yes; many are labouring, and thousands in this land are prepared in spirit to join them; for every Christian has a longing to do something for God’s kingdom on earth, and to employ usefully time and talents which he feels are running to waste. Why, then, with so much to do through a living agency, and with a great army of living agents yet unemployed, is there so little done? We reply again, from want of congregational organisation. Our congregations want order, method, arrangement. There is not yet a sufficiently clear apprehension of what their calling is in the world, or of the work given them to do; nor is there found that wise and authoritative congregational or church direction and government, which could at least suggest, if not assign, fitting work for each member, and a fitting member for each work. Hence little, comparatively, is accomplished. The most willing church-member gazes over a great city, and asks in despair, “What am I to do here?” And what would the bravest soldiers accomplish in the day of battle, if they asked the same question in vain? What would a thousand of our best workmen do in a large factory, if they entered it with willing hands, yet having no place or work assigned to them? And thus it is with many really self-denying Christians; because a practicable and definite field of labour is not pointed out, the necessary result is idleness–unwilling idleness; or self-organised and self-governed “associations,” “committees,” “societies,” spring up to accomplish what the Christian society itself was designed to, and could accomplish in a much more efficient and orderly manner; or, as it more frequently happens, those energies and ardent feelings, and love of excitement even, which could have found sufficient scope for healthy exercise in such practical labours of faith and love as we have alluded to, are soon engrossed by merely speculative questions about “the church,” or about “religion,” and the stream which, had it been directed into a right channel, and to a right point, would have been made a power for immense good, soon rushes over the land a wide-spread, muddy, devastating flood, oozes out into stagnant marshes, full of miasma and fever, or evaporates into thin air!

THE CURE FOR SCHISM.

“Schisms” are not peculiar to the Church of the present day, nor are they “the result of Protestantism,” as some allege, unless Protestantism is understood to represent that doctrine which is termed “the right of private judgment,” but which might be described rather as the absolute necessity for each man to believe the truth for himself, and not to be satisfied that another man should see and believe it for him. This “doctrine,” which is essential to the reception of any truth whatever, must necessarily open the way to error; just as the possession of reason, which is essential to a man’s thinking at all, must, in every case, involve the risk of his thinking wrong.

But we know something of a Church founded by an apostle, presided over for a time by an apostle, which was full of schisms. This was the Church of Corinth. (See First Epistle to the Corinthians, first three chapters.)

These schisms were marked by differences of mind and judgment; and by “envying, strife, and divisions.” Its “Protestantism” may, no doubt, have occasioned this.

But along with these divisions, and partly their cause, partly their effect, there was not only a warm attachment to particular ministers, but positive antagonism to others professing the same faith, and doing the same work. From the sameness of human nature in every age, we can quite understand how each party would defend their sectarianism. “We are of Apollos,” some might have thus said. “We do not admire Peter. He is too much of a Jew for us; besides, he denied his Lord, and dissembled along with Barnabas at Antioch. We prefer our own minister even to Paul. He is a much more eloquent man; of a much more commanding figure and appearance; and how profound he is in his knowledge of the Scriptures!” “We are of Paul,” others might have cried; “for he was chosen specially by Christ; and he has been honoured by Him more than all; and does not the Church of Corinth, moreover, owe its very existence to his preaching and labours? It is a shame to belong to any other!” “We cling to Peter,” a third party might have said; “he lived with Christ when He was on earth, saw His miracles, heard His words, was treated after the resurrection with special love, and received from Him a special commission to feed His sheep. Apollos is no _apostle_; and as for Paul, he persecuted the Church, and confesses himself that he is not meet to be called an apostle. Apollos is good, Paul better, but Peter is best!” “We belong to neither,” others could have boasted: “your divisions are so many, your differences so great, that we have retired from all your meetings in weariness; and each of us are of Christ only, and call no man master but Him; you should all join us, the _Christians_:”–thus making use of the very name of Christ to characterise a sect. Such were some of the schisms; and to the schismatics St Paul said, “Ye are yet carnal: for whereas there is among you envying, and strife, and divisions, are ye not carnal, and walk as men? For while one saith, I am of Paul; and another, I of Apollos; are ye not carnal?”

The apostle desired to heal those schisms, and to bring the members of the Church into one mind. How did he endeavour to effect this?

Had he been a Papist, he might have said–“Why thus divided? Because you are not building on the one true foundation, which is Peter! Do you not understand the meaning of the name, _Cephas_, or the Rock, given to him, and intended to teach all Christians that the temple of the Church was to be built upon _this_ rock, and this only; against which the gates of hell cannot prevail? Therefore, you who say, ‘I am of Cephas,’ are right; all others are schismatics.” Never, apparently, had a man a better opportunity of revealing to the world this great secret of unity than St. Paul had, if such was his faith, especially when he compares the Church to a building, and speaks of a foundation-stone. “As a wise master-builder,” he says, “I have laid the foundation, and another buildeth thereon…. For other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is”–Cephas, or the rock? No! but “_Jesus Christ_.” Not one word of Cephas as the centre of unity. Strange silence for a “Roman Catholic!”

Had Paul been a “High Churchman,” viewing with deep awe the mystery of sacramental grace, we can understand how he would have spoken to the schismatic Corinthians of the vast importance of their submitting to absolute apostolic authority, and of “the awful powers with which God’s ministers had been vested, of regenerating souls by the waters of baptism;” and how “such a clergy should command unqualified obedience.” If these, or anything like these, were Paul’s sentiments, and such as we are every day familiar with, it is not easy, to say the least of it, to account for his language to the Corinthians. What does _he_ say of the exalted privilege of being able to baptize? “I thank God I baptized none of you, but Crispus and Gaius:” strange words from a “High Churchman!” or a “High” Baptist! “I baptized also the household of Stephanas: besides, _I know not_ whether I baptized any other:” strange forgetfulness on such a supposed centre point of Church unity! “For Christ sent me not to baptize, but to preach the gospel:” strange idea of the relative importance of preaching and baptizing for a “High Churchman” to hold! And as to the “commanding authority” of the apostles, merely because they were apostles, apart from, the commanding authority of the eternal truth which they “commended” to the conscience and judgment of their hearers, Paul asks, “Who then is Paul, and who is Apollos?” Methinks we hear some exclaim: “Oh, these men were the greatest, the most remarkable, the”–We will not, however, take up space by repeating the laudations with which some would exalt their authority, with the view of magnifying the mere official authority of the clergy. But what says the apostle himself? He says they were only “ministers by whom ye believed.” It was not the minister who did good, but the truth which he ministered, and which he had received from another. It was not the man who sowed the seed, or the basket which held it, that gave the crop; but the living seed itself. Hence he adds: “So then neither is he that planteth _anything_, nor he that watereth!” What? Neither presbyter nor bishop, neither Paul nor Apollos, _anything_? Strange words, again we say, from a “High Churchman,” whether Episcopalian, Presbyterian, or any other denomination; _for “High Churchmen” are common to all Churches_. Yet not strange from St Paul, who knew how true his words were, and that not man, but God, who gave the increase, was “everything.”

What, then, was the apostle’s method of curing schism, and of making men truly one who had been “divided?”

He directed every eye, and every heart, and every spirit, to one object–JESUS CHRIST, the personal Saviour, the centre and source of unity; in fellowship with whom all men would find their fellowship with each other.

“We preach Christ crucified.” “I determined not to know anything among you, save Jesus Christ, and Him crucified.” “For other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ.” These are his declarations. And his conclusion from this great and blessed principle is just what we might expect: “He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord.” “Let no man glory in men: for all things are yours; whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or the world, or life, or death, or things present, or things to come: all are yours; and ye are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s.”

Professing Christians would do well to weigh the apostle’s cure of schism. Our divisions of heart and alienation of spirit are unworthy of educated men, and of the citizens of a free state, while they are in spirit utterly subversive of the whole principles of Protestantism. What! not able to hear the gospel preached from the lips of a minister of another church, nor to remember Jesus with him or his people? Not willing even to be on kind, or perhaps on speaking terms with a brother minister? Such things not only have been, but _are_; and while, thank God, they are repudiated and detested by men of all Churches, they are common, we fear, among too many. No wonder Roman Catholics point at our frequent boasting of Protestant “oneness in all essentials,” and ask with triumph, how it happens, then, that we are such enemies on mere non-essentials? How it is that we pretend to be one when attacking Papists, and then turn our backs on each other when left alone? No wonder the High Churchman of England asks the Presbyterians in Scotland to forgive _him_ if he never enters our Presbyterian churches, hears our clergy, partakes of our sacraments, when so very many among ourselves practically excommunicate each other. No wonder the infidel lecturer describes to crowds of intelligent mechanics, in vivid and powerful language, the spectacle presented by many among our Christian clergy and people, and asks, with a smile of derision, If _ithis_ is a religion of love which they see around them–if these men believe the gospel–and if Christians have really more kindness and courtesy than “publicans and sinners?” Worse than all, no wonder our churches languish, and men are asking with pain, why the ministry is not producing more true spiritual fruit, which is love to God and man? The Churches are, no doubt, _doing_ much. We have meetings, associations, and organisations, with no end of committees, resolutions, and motions; we raise large sums of money; we have large congregations;–yet all this, and much more, we can do from pride, vanity, love of party, love of power, the spirit of proselytism, and the like. We may possess many gifts, understand mysteries and all knowledge; we may bestow our goods to feed the poor, in zeal for Church or party we may be willing to give our bodies to be burned; but before God it profiteth us nothing, unless we have the “love that suffereth long, and is kind, that envieth not, that vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things,”

Surely our schisms may be healed if there be a Saviour thus to heal them!

One word in conclusion. Neither the letter nor the spirit of the apostle’s teaching condemn a warm and firm attachment to “our own Church,” but antagonism only to other Churches. A soldier may love, and ought to love his own regiment with peculiar affection, more especially if he has been born in it, and brought up from childhood, as it were, in its ranks. And it should be his honest pride to see that it is one of the best drilled, most orderly, most efficient, and bravest in the whole army. But that is no reason why he should go about with a drum to recruit from, weaken, or break up other regiments; or why he should deny that there _are_ other regiments which equally belong to the grand army, and may be even more efficient than his own, though they do not wear the exact pattern of uniform, or may charge on horseback while his marches on foot, or possess cannon while his own have but small arms. Why should he be jealous of their achievements? Why should he be disposed to fight against them instead of against the common enemy? And, worse than all, why assert and boast that this one regiment of his is _the_ army, while all others are mere unauthorised volunteers, or enemies in disguise? It is full time for sensible men to give up this vain boasting, proud antagonism, and irritating ambitious proselytism.

Instead, therefore, of any man attempting, what is impossible during a lifetime, to understand the distinctive principles of each of the many sections of the Christian Church, so as to “join” that one which seems most “pure” and “scriptural,” he is much better, as a rule, to remain, if it is at all possible for him, in the Church of his fathers, in which he was baptized and reared, and to do all in his power, by his example, his prayers, and his steady, manly, firm attachment, to make “his own Church” more efficient, and to permit others, without interference, to do the same. Thus may a man be a good Presbyterian in Scotland, and also a good Episcopalian in England, or possibly a Nonconformist in both, unless he believes in the Divine origin and authority of some one ecclesiastical system, and the mundane origin of all others. With perfect consistency and sincerity he may dearly love his Church, but yet love Christians more, because he loves Christ best of all.

These sentiments may be considered by many good Christians as sinfully “latitudinarian;” but to all who think so we would suggest the following simple experiment. When they have perused with care and reflection those portions of the Epistles of St Paul, and those incidents in his missionary journeys, which reveal most clearly what we might term his “church views,” let them conceive of this same holy apostle suddenly awaking from his grave and visiting the different churches in our country, and then honestly say, from what they know of his character and teaching, whether they think it improbable or impossible that he would countenance all our churches in so far as they sincerely desired to do God’s will and advance His kingdom. Would he not as of old say, “Grace be with all who love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity!”

“Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: they shall prosper that love thee. For my brethren and companions’ sakes, I will now say, Peace be within thee. Because of the house of the Lord our God I will seek thy _good_.”

THE UNION OF MAN WITH MAN.

The mutual dependence of material things is perceived on a moment’s reflection. Not one atom in creation, for example, exists by itself or for itself alone, but, directly or indirectly, influences and is influenced by every other atom. The movements of the tiniest wave which rises slowly over the dry pebble on the beach, marking the progress of the advancing tide in the inland bay, is determined by the majestic movements of the great ocean, with all its tides which sweep and circulate from pole to pole. The rain-drop which falls into the heart of a wild-flower, and rests there with its pure and sparkling diamond-lustre, owes its birth to the giant mountains of the old earth, to the great sea, to the all-encompassing atmosphere, to the mighty sun; and is thus, by a chain of forces, united in its existence, its figure, its motion, and its rest, to the most distant planet, which, beyond the ken of the telescope, whirls along its path on the mysterious outskirts of space. Thus, too, the needle of the electric telegraph trembles beneath the influence of hidden powers which pervade the earth, which flash in the thunder-storm, awaken the hurricane, or burst in those bright and brilliant coruscations that shoot across the midnight of our northern sky. And so

“The whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.”

But the unity which exists among intelligent and responsible _persons_, their mutual dependence and relationship, is just as real as that which obtains among material _things_, and is far more wonderful, more solemn and important in its nature, causes, and consequences.

The human race is an organic whole. The individual man is more intimately united to every other man, and to all past and coming generations, than the leaf which flutters on the twig of a great tree is connected with the tree itself, and with every other leaf that swells its foliage, or with the seed which was ages ago planted in the soil, and from which the noble plant has issued. That organic unity of the Church, springing chiefly out of a common life, derived from Christ and maintained by His indwelling Spirit, and which the apostle Paul so fully illustrates by the union of the members of the human frame, holds equally true of the whole family of man.

And what is true in this respect of the human race, is as true of all spiritual intelligences in the universe of God. “We are all members one of another.” We form a part of a mighty whole that finds its unity in God. Subtle links from within and from without in God’s infinite network, bind us for good or evil, for weal or woe, to spirits of light and of darkness; to principalities and powers in other spheres and systems of being, from the lowest outcast in the unseen world of criminals, up to Gabriel before the throne of God; while over all, comprehending all, sustaining and harmonising all, is the great I AM–Father, Son, and Spirit.

Consider, for example, how, according to the arrangements of the Divine government, man is linked to man from the mere necessities of his physical and social being.

In this aspect of our life it is evident that its whole history is one of mutual dependence, and one in which we are compelled to receive and to give, to partake and to share. We enter upon life as weak, unconscious infants, depending every moment on other eyes to watch for us, and other hands to minister to us, while we kindle in their hearts the most powerful emotions, and unconsciously react upon them for joy or sorrow. But we are not less dependent on our fellow-creatures for our continuance in life from the cradle to the grave. There is not a thread of clothing which covers our body, not a luxury which is placed on our table, not an article which supplies the means of labour, not one thing which is required by us as civilised beings, but involves the labours and the sacrifices of others in our behalf; while by the same law we cannot choose but contribute to their well-being. The cotton which the artisan weaves or wears has been cultivated by brothers beneath a tropical sun, and possibly beneath a tyrant’s lash. The tea he drinks has been gathered for him by brothers on the unknown hill-sides of distant China. The oil which lights his lamp has been fetched for him out of the depths of the Arctic seas by his sailor brothers; and the coal that feeds his fire has been dug out by swarthy brethren who have been picking and heaving for him amidst the darkness and dangers of the mine. If the poorest mother writes a letter to her son in some distant spot in India and puts it into the window-slit of a village post-office, without a word being spoken, how much is done for her before that letter reaches its destination! The hands of unknown brethren will receive it, and transmit it; rapid trains will hurry it over leagues of railways; splendid steamships will sail with it, and hundreds of busy hands will pass it from port to port, from land to land. It is watched day and night, through calm and hurricane, and precious lives are risked to keep it in security, until in silence and in safety, after months of travel, it is delivered from the mother’s hand into the hand of her child.

And thus it is that, whether we choose it or not, we are placed by God as “members one of another,” so that we cannot, if we would, separate ourselves from our brother. For good or evil, prosperity or adversity, we are bound up with him in the bundle of this all-pervading and mysterious life. If one member suffers or rejoices, all are compelled in some degree to share his burden of joy or sorrow. Let disease, for example, break out in one district or kingdom, and, like a fire, it will rush onward, passing away from the original spot of outbreak, and involving families and cities far away in its desolating ruin. Let war arise in one portion of the globe, it smites another. The passion or the pride of some rude chief of a barbarous tribe in Africa or New Zealand, or the covetousness and selfish policy of some party in America, tell upon a poor widow in her lonely garret in the darkest corner of a great city; and she may thus be deprived of her labour through the state of commerce, as really as if the hand of the foreigner directly took her only handful of meal out of the barrel, or extinguished the cruise of oil, leaving her in poverty and darkness to watch over her dying child.

Now all this system of dependence, as we have said, is beyond our will. We do not choose it, but are compelled to accept of it. It is a fact or power, like birth or death, with which we have to do in spite of us. No questions are asked by the great King as to whether we will have it so or not; yet of what infinite importance to us for good or evil is this great law of God’s government. We are thus made to feel that a will higher than ours reigns, and that by that supreme will we are so united to one another, that no man can live for himself or die for himself alone; that we _are_ our brothers keeper, and he ours; that we cannot be indifferent to his social well-being without suffering in our own; that our selfishness, which would injure him, must return in some form to punish ourselves; and that such is the ordained constitution of humanity, that though love and a consistent selfishness start from different points, they necessarily lead to the same point, and make it our interest, as it is our duty, to love our neighbour as ourselves.

But here we may just notice, that some of those evils which afflict one portion of the human family are nevertheless the occasion of good, when they remind us of our common humanity. Such painful events, for example, as the famine in the Highlands of Scotland, which called forth the sympathies of kindreds and tongues, unknown by name, to the sufferers, and was relieved by the inhabitants of China, and Hindostan; or the like famine in Ireland, which the Mohammedan sultan was among the first to help to alleviate; or the Syrian massacres, or Indian famine, that united Jew and Gentile, Protestant and Catholic, in the bonds of pity;–these wounds of humanity are surely not without their good; when they afford an opportunity to the Samaritan of shewing mercy to the Jew, and cause the things which separate and the differences that alienate man from man, to be for a time forgotten in the presence of their common brotherhood. And thus, too, the shutting of the Southern ports of America, which entails temporary distress upon many in our manufacturing districts, reminds us how the sufferings of others must be shared by ourselves, calls forth the benevolent sympathies of the rich to alleviate the wants of the needy, and bridges over with love and gratitude the gulf which too often separates classes; while, on the other hand, it may form the indirect means of developing the growth of cotton, and the consequent industry of thousands in Africa and India, who will thus be brought into closer and more fraternal relationships with civilised nations.

But there is another link, and one more spiritual, which binds man to man for good or evil, and that is _moral character_. This influence is partly beyond and partly within the region of our will. That which is beyond the will is the fact of the necessary influence of character; while within the will is the character, good or bad, which we may choose to possess. Now, it cannot be questioned that character tells for good or evil beyond its possessor. That which a man _is_–that sum total made up of the items of his beliefs, purposes, affections, tastes, and habits, manifested in all he does and does _not_–is contagious in its tendency, and is ever _photographing_ itself on other spirits. He himself may be as unconscious of this emanation of good or evil from his spirit, as he is of the contagion of disease from his body, or–if that were equally possible–of the contagion of good health. But the fact, nevertheless, is certain. If the light is in him, it must shine; if darkness reigns, it must shade. If he glows with love, its warmth will radiate; if he is frozen with selfishness, the cold will chill the atmosphere around him; and if he is corrupt and vile, he will poison it. Nor is it possible for any one to occupy a neutral or indifferent position. In some form or other he _must_ affect others. Were he to banish himself to a distant island, or even enter the gates of death, he still exercises a positive influence, for he is _a loss_ to his brothers; the loss of that most blessed gift of God, even that of a living man to living men–of a being who ought to have loved and to have been beloved. “No man liveth to himself, or dieth to himself;”–he must in some form, for their good or evil, their gladness or sadness, influence others.

The influence of individual character extends from one generation to another. The world is moulded by it. Does not history turn on the influence exercised by the first and second Adam?

No one questions the reality of the influence of a bad character upon others. The existence of evil persons here or elsewhere, and their power to infect other persons through the foul malaria of the evil in which they live, may be unaccountably mysterious when seen in the light of God’s infinite love; but they are, nevertheless, the most certain facts within the field of our own observation and experience.

This malign influence is of every degree–from the undesigned yet real injury which is done to others by the merely slothful or indifferent man, who never, as he says, “intended to injure any one,” and “never thought” he was doing so, but who, nevertheless, injures many a cause, and freezes and discourages many a heart, by his selfishness in _not_ thinking and _not_ doing;–up to the injury which is done by the cool, designing villain, who, in his plots and plans to sacrifice others to himself, has reached the utmost limit which distinguishes the bad man from the demon.

The evil influence exercised by wicked parents on their families; by wicked companions upon their fellows; by wicked books upon their readers; by wicked persecutors and tyrants upon the world–needs neither proof nor illustration. Yet let us remember, for our strength and comfort, that because we are not things but persons, it is impossible to compel any man, from whatever influence, to prefer the darkness to light, or to choose the evil instead of the good. Hence the power which was designed to lead us into evil may be converted by ourselves into a power for good, while it strengthens our moral principles, demands a firmer faith in God, and prompts more earnest desires and efforts to overcome the evil by the good. It is thus too, in the wonderful providence of God, that while evil remains evil, it has nevertheless been the indirect means of calling forth the noblest efforts on the part of man, and on God’s part the most glorious revelations of His character in conquering it, and such as, without evil in the universe, could not, as far as we can see, have been possible.

But no less real is the influence upon others of a _holy_ character. “The evil men do lives after them;” but we do not believe that “the good is oft interred with their bones.” No, it is as immortal as the Divine Being in whom it originates. The good must ever live, and “walk up and down the earth,” like a living spirit guided by the living God, to convey blessings to the children of men, and is more powerful, diffusive, and eternal than the power of evil. It lives in humanity, in some form or other, like the subtile substance of material things, which though ever changing never perishes, but adds to the stability, the beauty, and the grandeur of the universe. The influence of the holy character passes even beyond the stars, giving joy to our angel brothers, and to our elder brother Jesus Christ, who, in seeing reflected in His people His own love to His God and our God, to His neighbour and ours, beholds the grand result of the travail of His soul, and is “satisfied.”

The grand practical lesson, therefore, which is impressed upon us by this fact of the union of man with man, is for each of us to be right, and to do light. Each man is responsible for himself, and for himself only, for what he himself _is_ and _does_. The secret, then, is a very simple one, by which we can at once receive all the good that can possibly be derived from whatever influences are brought to bear upon ourselves, and do all the good which can possibly be conferred by whatever influence we can exercise upon others; and it is this–to _be_ good ourselves! This is the one centre point of light in the soul, its one germ of immortal life, which must be possessed in order that all light and life may come to us, and emanate from us. Let us only possess the right state of spirit to God and man, and we have the divine chemistry which will convert all we receive and all we give into what will surely bless ourselves and others.

And if it is asked how this secret can be ours, we have but one reply, and it is the old one–Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, live, and love! Jesus Christ is the living Head of the human family. “The Head of every man is Christ.” As the eternal Son, He dwelt among us, and revealed to us the Father and Himself, the elder brother. “He is the propitiation for our sins; and not for our sins only, but also for the sins of the whole world.” He has ascended up on high, and ever liveth for us as Mediator, “to bring many sons and daughters unto God.” He has sent His Holy Spirit to be with us, and to abide in us for ever. That Spirit reveals to all who will receive His teaching, the glory of God our Father in Christ Jesus the Son, our Brother.

Just in proportion as men know God as their Father in Christ, and become true sons to Him, will they become united to each other as true brethren; and thus the real and highest unity of man with man will be realised as the Church of Christ possesses the earth, and her prayer is answered, “Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is done in heaven!”

PROGRESS OF MISSIONS.

The beginning of the nineteenth century marks an epoch of revival in the Protestant Church. It would be going beyond the limits prescribed by our subject to consider the causes of that remarkable reaction into indifference of life, or of positive error in doctrine, which followed more or less rapidly the stirring period of the Reformation. Such tides, indeed, in the affairs of men,–now rushing with irresistible waves to the utmost limit of the land; then receding and leaving behind but a few pools to mark where the waters once had been; and again, after a longer or a shorter interval, advancing with a deep flood over the old ground,–are among the most striking phenomena in history.

The last century witnessed the Protestant Church at its lowest ebb. We thankfully acknowledge that God did not leave Himself without holy men as living witnesses in every branch of that Church. And we record, with deepest gratitude, how, more than in any other country, He preserved in our own country both individual and congregational life, with orthodox standards of faith. Still, taken as a whole, the Protestant Church was in a dead state throughout the world; while, during the same period, infidelity was never more rampant, and never more allied with philosophy, politics, science, and literature. It was the age of the acute Hume and learned Gibbon; of the ribald Paine, and of the master of Europe, Voltaire; with a host of _literati_ who were beginning to make merry, in the hope that God’s prophets were at last to be destroyed from the earth. Rationalism triumphed in all the Continental Churches. Puritanism in England became deeply tainted with Unitarianism. The descendants of the Pilgrim Fathers had, to a large extent, embraced the same creed in America. The Established Churches in England and Scotland, though preserving their Confessions, and having very many living men in the ministry, suffered, nevertheless, from that wintry cold which had frozen the waves of the great Reformation sea, and which was adding chill to chill. The French Revolution marked the darkest hour of this time; yet it was the hour which preceded the dawn. It was the culminating point of the infidelity of kings, priests, and people; the visible expression and embodiment of the mind of France, long tutored by falsehood and impiety; the letting loose of Satan on earth, that all might see and wonder at the Beast! That Revolution inscribed lessons in letters of blood for the Church and for the nations of the world to learn. Christians accordingly clung nearer to their Saviour amidst the dreadful storm which shook and destroyed every other resting-place, and were drawn to the throne of mercy and grace, thereby becoming stronger in faith and more zealous in life. The indifferent were roused to earnest thought by the solemn events which were taking place around them. Speculative infidels even, became alarmed at the practical results of their theories. Mere worldly politicians trembled at the spectacle of unprincipled millions wielding power that affected the destinies of Europe, and recognised the necessity of religion to save the State at least, if not to save the soul. Men of property, from the owner of a few acres to the merchant prince, and from no higher motive than the love of their possessions, acknowledged that religion was the best guarantee for their preservation. In countless ways did this upheaving of society operate in the same direction with those deeper forces which were beginning to stir the Churches of Britain, and to quicken them into new life.

The history of Europe during the first part of the present century, is a history written in blood. It is one of war in all its desolating horrors, and also in all its glorious achievements and victories in the cause of European liberty and national independence. Never was war so universal. It raged in every part of the earth. For years, the Peninsula was a great battlefield. Belgium and the plains of Germany were saturated with blood. Allied hosts conquered France. Armies crossed the Alps and ravaged Italy, and were buried beneath the snows of Russia. The contest was waged from the Baltic to the Bosphorus. The old battle-fields of Greece, Egypt, Palestine, Asia Minor, Persia, and the Crimea, were again disturbed. War swept the peninsula of India to the confines of Cashmere. It penetrated beyond the walls of China, and visited the islands of the Eastern Archipelago; touched the coasts of Arabia, and swept round Africa, from the Cape to Algiers. It marched through the length and breadth of the great Western Continent, from the St Lawrence to the Mississippi, and from Central to Southern America. Every kingdom experienced its horrors _but our own_; every capital was entered by the enemy _but our own!_ During all this terrible period, our Sabbath services were never broken by the cry of battle. The dreadful hurricane raged without, but never for a single hour disturbed the peace of our beloved island-home. No revolution from within destroyed our institutions, and no power from without prevented us from improving them. The builders of our spiritual temples did not require to hold the sword. Our victories, with their days of national thanksgiving, and our anxieties, with their days of national fasting, tended to deepen a sense of religion in every heart. Men of God, in rapid succession, rose in all the Churches. A pious laity began to take the lead in advancing the cause of evangelism. In Parliament there was one man, who, by the purity of his private life, the noble consistency, uncompromising honesty, and unwearied philanthropy of his public career, along with his faithful published testimony for the truth as it is in Christ, did more, directly and indirectly, than any other of his day for the revival of true religion, especially among the influential classes of our land: that man was William Wilberforce.

But without dwelling upon the fact of the great revival which has occurred in the Protestant Church during the present century, let us notice one of its more prominent results. We mean the increased activity manifested by all its branches in advancing the Redeemer’s kingdom.

At the commencement of this century, the whole Protestant missionary staff throughout the world amounted to ten societies only. Of these, however, two only had really entered the mission-field with any degree of vigour–viz., the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts; and, above all, the Society of the Moravian Brethren. The Wesleyan, Baptist, London, and Church Missionary Societies, though nominally in existence, had hardly commenced their operations. There were, besides the above, two small societies on the Continent; two in Scotland; and not one in all America! How stands the case now? The Protestant Church, instead of ten, has fifty-one societies; the great majority of which have each more labourers, and a greater income, than all the societies together of the Protestant Church previous to 1800!

If the last sixty years be divided into three equal periods, nine societies belong to the first, fifteen to the second, and twenty-four to the third.

The following facts, collected from statistics of the great missionary societies up to 1861, will afford–as far as mere dry figures can do–a general idea of the present strength of the mission army of the Protestant Church, with some of its results:–

There are now 22 missionary societies in Great Britain, 14 in North America, and 15 on the Continent of Europe; in all, 51. These employ, in round numbers, 12,000 agents, including ordained missionaries, (probably 2000,) teachers, catechists, &c.; occupy 1200 stations; have 335,000 communicants from heathendom; 252,000 scholars; 460 students training for the ministry; and are supported by an income of L860,000 per annum.

The greatest results have been attained by England. Connected with her great societies, there are nearly 7000 agents, 630 stations, 210,000 communicants, 208,000 scholars, with an annual income of L510,000.[A]

[Footnote A: One or two facts in connexion with missionary effort may interest our readers:–

Mr Mueller of Bristol supports, in connexion with his famous Orphanage, 22 foreign and 80 home missionaries.

The Moravian Missionary Society has sent, since 1732, 2000 missionaries, of whom 643 have died in mission service; 9 on mission journeys; 13 on the voyage out or home; 22 by shipwreck; and 12 were murdered.

Gossner of Berlin alone originated and conducted a mission which has sent out 141 missionaries. Pastor Harms of Hermannsburg has also, by his own efforts, built a mission ship, and has sent out 150 missionaries, of whom 100 are colonists, and proposes to send 24 every two years.

Ten years ago there was little or no fruit among the _Kohls_ of India. There are now 30,000 receiving Christ.

In India there are 500 missionaries; in Tinnevelly, above 70,000 Christians.

The American Board alone has sent out in fifty years 900 missionaries (500 being native) and 400 teachers; 55,000 have been received into church–membership, and 175,000 children passed through their schools.

America contributes L180,000 to foreign missions, and 2000 agents.

The Presbyterian Churches of the world have come late into the field, but they contribute about 900 agents, and 230 ordained missionaries, with an income of about L110,000.

One of the oldest Protestant missionary societies in existence (though now confined to home operations) is the Society in connexion with the Church of Scotland “for Promoting Christian Knowledge.” It supported Brainerd and the Elliots more than a century ago.]

But in order to enable our readers still more clearly to realise the advance which the Church has made during the last half century, let us consider the progress of one of those societies, and take as an illustration the Church Missionary Society. It was founded a few months before 1800. Its income in 1802 was L356. It now amounts to L104,273. In 1804, it had one station abroad, two ordained European missionaries, but no native assistants. It has now 148 stations, 258 ordained clergymen, (many of whom have studied in the English Universities,) a large staff of native clergy, with 2034 other agents, most of whom are natives. In 1810, it had 35 male and 13 female scholars in its schools; it has now 31,000 scholars. In 1816, the good Mr Bickersteth had the privilege of receiving its first converts, amounting to six only, into the communion of the Church. Its communicants now number about 21,000.

* * * * *

Let us, however, examine the missionary labours of the Protestant Church during this century from another point of view. Take the map of the world, look over its continents and islands, and contrast their condition, as to the means of grace, in 1800 and 1862.

In 1800; the only missions east of the Cape of Good Hope were in India. These were confined to the Baptist Mission, protected in the Danish settlement of Serampore; and the missions in Tanjore, in Southern India. The former was begun by Carey and Thomas, (in 1793,) who were joined by a few brethren in 1799. The first convert they made was in 1800. The latter mission had existed since 1705, and numbered about nine labourers at the commencement of the century.[A]

[Footnote A: The first Protestant missionary who visited India was Ziegenbalg, who was sent out by the Halle-Danish Missionary Society in 1705, to Tranquebar. He was joined by Plutschow in 1719. The mission was then adopted by the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel. Grundler followed in 1720, and Schultze in 1727. The mission, in 1736, had four stations, one being in Madras; 24 native assistants; and 3517 baptized members! The great Schwartz laboured in, and extended the mission from 1749 till 1798. According to Dr Carey, 40,000 had been converted to Christianity during the last century through this mission. Dr Claudius Buchanan reckons the number as high as 80,000!]

Of the East India Company’s chaplains, Claudius Buchanan alone had the courage to advocate in India the missionary cause; and his sermon preached upon the subject in 1800, in Calcutta, was then generally deemed a bold and daring step. Hindustan was closed by the East India Company against the missionaries of the Christian Church. China, too, seemed hermetically sealed against the gospel. The Jesuit mission had failed. Christianity was proscribed by an imperial edict. Protestant missions had not commenced. The language of the nation, like its walls, seemed to forbid all access to the missionary. In Africa there were but few missionaries, and these had lately arrived at the Cape.[A] In the black midnight which brooded over that miserable land, the cry of tortured slaves alone was heard. New Zealand, Australia, and the scattered islands of the Southern Seas had not yet been visited by one herald of the gospel. A solitary beacon gleaming on the ocean from the missionary ship _Duff_ had indeed been seen, but not yet welcomed by the savages of Tahiti. The mission was abandoned in 1809, and not a convert left behind! No Protestant missionary had preached to those Indian tribes beyond the Colonies, who wandered over the interminable plains which stretch from Behring’s Straits to Cape Horn. Mohammedan States were all shut up against the gospel; and to forsake the Crescent for the Cross, was to die. In this thick darkness which covered heathendom, the only light to be seen–except in India–was in the far north, shed by the self-denying Moravians,–a light which streamed like a beautiful aurora over the wintry snow and ice-bound coasts of Greenland. To this gloomy picture we must add the indifference of the Protestant Church to God’s ancient people. No society then existed for their conversion; and of them it might indeed be said, “This is Israel, whom no man seeketh after!”

[Footnote A: The first missionary to South Africa was George Schmidt, sent by the Moravian Brethren in 1736. He laboured alone with some success till 1743, when he was compelled by the Dutch East India Company to return to Europe. The mission was resumed in 1792, when three additional missionaries sailed for the Cape. A few others joined them in 1798. At the beginning of the century, the converts amounted to 304. The illustrious Dr Vanderkemp, along with three other missionaries, were sent to South Africa by the London Missionary Society in 1799. The only attempts made to Christianise Western Africa previous to 1800 were by the Moravians in Guinea, in 1737; but all the missionaries, eleven in number, dying, the attempt was abandoned; and by the Scottish Missionary Society, in 1797, who sent thither six missionaries. One (Greig) was murdered, another (Brunton) returned, and went to Tartary; the rest, we believe, went to oilier spheres of labour. The Church Missionary Society entered upon this field in 1801.]

How changed is the aspect of the world now! There is hardly a spot upon earth (if we except those enslaved by Popery) where the Protestant missionary may not preach the gospel without the fear of persecution. The door of the world has been thrown open, and the world’s Lord and Master commands and invites His servants to enter, and, in His name, to take possession of the nations. Since 1812, India, chiefly through the exertions of Mr Wilberforce,[A] has been made accessible to the missionaries of every Church. Christian schools and chapels have been multiplied; colleges have been instituted; thousands have been converted to Christ; and tens of thousands instructed in Christianity. The cruelties of heathenism have been immensely lessened; infanticide prohibited; Sutteeism abolished; all Government support withdrawn from idolatry; and the Hindu law of inheritance has been altered to protect the native converts; while a new era seems to be heralded by the fact that a native Christian rajah has himself established a mission among his people.

[Footnote A: In 1812, we find from Mr Wilberforce’s _Life_ (vol. iv., p. 10) how he was “busily engaged in reading, thinking, consulting, and persuading,” on the renewal of the East India Company’s charter. He was fully alive to the importance of the crisis with reference to the interests of Christianity. He thus writes to his friend Mr Butterworth:–“I have been long looking forward to the period of the renewal of the East India Company’s charter as to a great era, when I hoped that it would please God to enable the friends of Christianity to be the instruments of wiping away what I have long thought, next to the slave-trade, the foulest blot on the moral character of our countrymen–the suffering our fellow-subjects (nay, they even stand toward us in the closer relation of our tenants) in the East Indies to remain, without any effort on our part to enlighten and inform them, under the grossest, the darkest, and most depraving system of idolatrous superstition that almost ever existed on earth.” The deepest anxiety was felt by all Christians for the issue of the debate. “I heard afterwards,” he writes, “that many good men were praying for us all night.” These prayers and efforts were crowned with success; and Mr Wilberforce, when communicating the joyful news to his wife, writes–“Blessed be God! we carried our question triumphantly, about three, or later, this morning!”]

All the islands in the Eastern Archipelago are now accessible to the missionary; most of them have been visited. Ceylon has flourishing congregations and schools; Madagascar has had her martyrs, and has still her indomitable confessors.

China, with its teeming millions, has also been opened to the gospel. The way had been marvellously prepared by Dr Morrison, who as early as 1807 had commenced the study of the language which he lived to master. Accordingly, when the conquests of Britain had obtained admission for, and secured protection to the missionaries as well as to the merchants of all nations, the previous indefatigable labours of Morrison had provided, for the immediate use of the Church of Christ, a dictionary of the language, and a translation of the Word of God. The Christian religion is tolerated by law since 1844, and may be professed freely by the natives. The gospel is now advancing in that thickly-peopled land of patience and industry, and native preachers are already proclaiming to their countrymen the tidings of salvation.

Africa has witnessed changes still more wonderful. The abolition of the British slave-trade in 1807, and of slavery in the British dominions in 1834, has removed immense barriers in the way of the gospel. The whole coasts of Africa are being girdled with the light of truth. It has penetrated throughout the south, where the French[A] and German Protestant Churches labour side by side with those of Britain to civilise the degraded Bushman, the low Hottentot, and warlike Kaffir. The chapel in Sierra Leone, built from the planks of condemned slavers, and containing 1000 worshippers, is a type of the blessings brought through Christianity to injured Africa.

[Footnote A: The missions of the French Protestant Church are situated inland from Port Natal, and along the river Caledon from its junction with the Orange River. It has gathered upwards of 2000 Bechuanas into regular church-fellowship.]

Abyssinia has also been visited with every prospect of success.

And how glorious has been the triumph of the gospel throughout the whole Pacific! In 1837, Williams was able to address royalty in these noble words–“It must impart joy to every benevolent mind to know, that by the efforts of British Christians upwards of _three hundred thousand_ of deplorably ignorant and savage barbarians, inhabiting the beautiful islands of the Pacific, have been delivered from a dark, debasing, and sanguinary idolatry, and are now enjoying the civilising influence, the domestic happiness, and the spiritual blessings which Christianity imparts. In the island of Raratonga, which I _discovered_ in 1823, there are upwards of 3000 children under Christian instruction daily; not a vestige of idolatry remains;[A] their language has been reduced to a system, and the Scriptures, with other books, have been translated. But this is only one of nearly a hundred islands to which similar blessings have been conveyed.” Tens of thousands of souls more have been added to this number since these words were written! In no part of heathendom has the gospel produced, in so short a time, such wonderful fruit as in Polynesia. The labours and sacrifices of the converted natives are more striking than in any other missions. Many islands have been converted solely by means of a native agency, and are superintended by native preachers only. Let us take the Sandwich Islands as illustrating what has been accomplished _for_ the natives, and _by_ them. The American Mission was commenced in 1824. These islands have been converted long ago to Christianity, so that not a vestige of idolatry remains, and not only do they support their own clergy and schools, but have their own Bible and Foreign Missionary Society. They raise for these objects about L4000 per annum, and support six missionaries to the heathen islands around them. The communicants in the islands amount to upwards of 25,000, and the children who attend the common schools to a still greater number.

[Footnote A: The first idol which, a catechist from Raratonga, who visited London in 1848, ever beheld, was in the Museum of the London Missionary Society.]

If we turn our eye to the great Western Continent, we see the gospel preached to its wandering Indian tribes; while the condition of Mexico and of California affords every prospect of the rapid extension of truth through kingdoms long benighted.

Mohammedan countries have also been opened to the missionary. Through the influence of Lord Aberdeen and Sir Stratford Canning, the Sultan was induced in 1844 to give religious toleration to his subjects; so that now, for the first time, a Mussulman may change his faith without incurring punishment. Several societies labour in Algiers, Egypt, Palestine, Asia Minor, Greece, and Constantinople. The Euphrates is being dried up. The Mohammedan power is tottering, and ready to fall! When it dies and is buried, who will wear mourning at its funeral?

And how strange is the meeting between the distant East and West, the distant past and near present, visible in the fact, that it is missionaries from America who now unveil to the dwellers in the land of the Chaldees, and to the wanderers among the mountains which shadow the birth-place of the human race, that blessed faith and hope which dwelt in Abram, as he journeyed at the dawn of history from that old land, and which has returned thither again in Christian men embued with Abram’s faith, after having accompanied civilisation around the globe? God’s blessing has signally attended the American mission among the Nestorians. The revival of religion in their schools and churches has been great and glorious.

May we not exclaim, What hath God wrought! Yet how can any statistics carry to our hearts a sense of what has been done for immortal souls by the gospel during this eventful period? What homes have been made happy by it; what families united in the bonds of love; what sick-beds soothed; what dying beds cheered; what minds illumined, and what hearts filled with joy unspeakable, and full of glory!

* * * * *

In close connexion with mission work, we may state the progress made during the present century in leavening the world with the Word of God. Previous to the formation of the British and Foreign Bible Society in 1804, there was not one society in existence whose sole object was the distribution of the Bible in all lands. There are now upwards of 50 principal, and 9000 auxiliary Bible societies. In 1804, the Bible was accessible to only 200 millions of men. Now it exists in tongues spoken by 600 millions. The London Bible Society alone sends forth annually upwards of 1,787,000 copies. During the last sixty years it has issued 39,315,226 Bibles, in 163 different languages, and in 143 translations never before printed. Its receipts for 1862 amount to L168,443.[A]

[Footnote A: The American Bible Society circulates upwards of 600,000 copies of the Word of God annually, at home and abroad. Besides assisting in publishing translations issued by other societies, it has been at the sole expense of publishing the Armeno-Turkish, and Modern Syriac New Testament; the entire Bible for the Burmese, and also for the Sandwich Islands; the Ojibbeway New Testament; the Gospels, or some portion of the Bible, into the languages of the Sioux, Mohawks, Seneca, and Cherokee Indians.]

It surely cannot fail to fill the heart of every Christian with deepest thankfulness, to contemplate these glorious achievements. The Church, like the angel seen in prophetic vision, has been flying with the everlasting gospel to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people. It has given the Bible to the inhabitants of the old lands of Egypt, Ethiopia, Arabia, Palestine, Asia Minor, and Persia; to the indomitable Circassian; to the mountaineers of Affghanistan; to tribes of India speaking thirty-two different languages or dialects; to the inhabitants of Burmah, Assam, and Siam; to the islanders of Madagascar and Ceylon; to the Malays and Javanese of the Eastern seas; to the millions of China, and the wandering Kalmuck beyond her great wall; to the brave New Zealander; to the teeming inhabitants of the island groups which are scattered over the Southern Pacific; to the African races, from the Cape to Sierra Leone; to the Esquimaux and Greenlander, within the Arctic circle; and to the Indian tribes of North America. All are now furnished with a translation of that wonderful volume, which, with the light of the universal living Spirit of God, at once reveals to man, in every age and clime, his lost and miserable condition, and tells him of a remedy that is adapted to meet every want of his being–to redeem him, by a moral power it alone can afford, from all sin and misery, and to bring him into the glorious fellowship of the holiness, the blessedness, and joy of Jesus Christ, and all the family of God in earth and heaven![A]

[Footnote A: The following facts regarding tract societies may be here stated:–The Religious Tract Society of London was formed in 1799. During the first year of its operations, ending in May 1800, it had issued 200,000 tracts. What is its present working power? Its annual income from sales and benevolent contributions (L12,500) is L95,000. Its annual distribution of tracts, including handbills, from the London Depository is–in English, 20,870,074, and in foreign languages, 537,729, making an annual total of 21,407,803. It publishes tracts in 117 different languages. Taking into account the number of affiliated societies, the total probable _annual_ distribution of tracts, British and foreign, in connexion with the London Tract Society, amounts to 28,500,000. Several religious bodies in the United States maintain Tract or “Publication” Societies. But the “American Tract Society” (founded 1825) is the largest and most influential in the United States, and has a catholic constitution similar to our own Tract Society. It is supported by more than 700 auxiliary societies–those in Boston, Philadelphia, and New York being large and efficient. We may add that its circulation is not confined to the United States, but extends to Mexico, Central and South America, and to those districts in the East and Asia Minor where the American missionaries are labouring. It has issued upwards of 200,000,000 of publications since its commencement.]

And now let us ask, What shall be the history of the Church during the rest of this century? Without attempting with a vain or profane hand to uncover what God has concealed, it is surely a comfort to be able to take our stand on the immovable rock of His promises to Christ, and to rejoice in the assurance, that, sooner or later, His name must be glorious in all the earth!

But when? Is it too much to assert, that before the end of the present century, the gospel shall have been preached to all nations, the Bible translated into all tongues, and the last visible idol on earth cast down amidst the triumphant songs of the Church of Christ? We might expect this blessing judging only from the past, and the constantly-increasing ratio with which society advances. Yet, as revolutions in the physical world anticipate in a single night the slow progress of ordinary causes, so, for aught we know, may God, by some evolution of His providence, make one year do the work of many.

But while we do anticipate the most glorious results ever attained by the human race during this century, we anticipate, also, from the signs of the time, a desperate conflict of opposing _systems_, both of truth and error. It is not a little remarkable, that never before was there such a life and strength in every system as at this moment. Protestantism, Popery, Infidelity, and even Judaism,[A] were never so alive; _and never were alive together_ before. Does this not look like a coming struggle?[B] But what may _appear_ suddenly and unexpectedly, may nevertheless be the necessary results of long preparation; like the water or the gas, which suddenly enter a thousand city houses to refresh and illuminate them, but which are the results of years of labour in digging trenches, laying pipes, and erecting reservoirs, during all which time no streams of water or of gas were ever present to the senses.

[Footnote A: It is only within twenty-five years that _preaching_ has become common in all their synagogues, while, during the same period, ten periodicals have been started by the Jews, in different parts of the world, in defence of Judaism, in some form or other.]

[Footnote B: In a conversation which we had with Neander in 1848, (immediately before the continental revolutions,) he said, “I believe we are entering a period of unprecedented warfare, which will issue in the increased glory and purity of the Church. The light and darkness will every year be more and more separated; the one becoming more bright the other more densely dark.”]

But we know from the testimony of God’s Word, strengthened by the experience of past ages, how certain victory is in the end, however long and apparently doubtful the campaign may be between His kingdom and every form of evil. The day has been when “the Church” was “in the wilderness,” and when within that Church four men only held fast their confidence in God, believed His word, and exhorted that Church to take possession of the land of promise, saying, “Rebel not ye against the Lord, neither fear ye the people of the land: their defence is departed from them, and the Lord is with us: fear them not.” And how was that missionary sermon received? “All the congregation bade stone them with stones!” And had they done so, the world’s only true lights were extinguished and lost in universal unbelief and heathenism. It was in such desperate circumstances as these that the Lord himself came to the rescue of the world, and it was then these marvellous words of promise were littered, “As truly as I live my glory will fill the earth!” The day has been, too, when “the Church” met in an upper room with shut doors, for fear of the Jews; but it was even then that its Lord said, “All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth: go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: and, lo, I am with you alway, even to the end of the world.” Never more can the glory of God appear to the eyes of the weakest faith to be so dim, or the cause of Christ to be so hopeless, as it hath been in those days of old! The glory of God _is_ filling the earth, and the gospel is being preached to all nations. Mere rays of light, which we see breaking over the mountain tops in heathen lands, are beautiful in themselves; but far more beautiful to the eye of faith are the first beams of that sun which is yet to stream into every valley now lying in darkness, and steep in its glory all the habitations of men. Those notes of joy and thanksgiving, too, are beautiful which ascend from many a heart in “Kedar’s wilderness afar;” but they are still more beautiful to the ear of faith as echoes from the Rock of ages, and the prophetic song uttered by “great voices in heaven,” saying, “The kingdoms of this world have become the kingdoms of our Lord and of His Christ, and He shall reign for ever and ever!”

THE MYSTERY OF SORROW.

The patriarch Job experienced the darkness and mystery of sorrow when he thus spoke:–“Know now that God hath overthrown me, and hath compassed me with his net. Behold, I cry out of wrong, but I am not heard: I cry aloud, but there is no judgment. He hath fenced up my way that I cannot pass, and he hath set darkness in my paths. He hath stripped me of my glory, and taken the crown from my head. He hath destroyed me on every side, and I am gone; and mine hope hath he removed like a tree.” “Even to-day is my complaint bitter; my stroke is heavier than my groaning. O that I knew where I might find him! that I might come even to his seat!” “Behold, I go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him: on the left hand, where he doth work, but I cannot behold him: he hideth himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him. But he knoweth the way that I take: when he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold.”

The sweet singer of Israel sung in darkness when he said:–“My heart is sore pained within me; and the terrors of death are fallen upon me. Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me, and horror hath overwhelmed me. And I said, O that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest.” “Thou hast laid me in the lowest pit, in darkness, in the deeps. Thy wrath lieth hard upon me, and thou hast afflicted me with all thy waves. Thou hast put away mine acquaintance far from me; thou hast made me an abomination unto them: I am shut up, and I cannot come forth.”

The prophet Jeremiah cried out of the depths of mysterious sorrow when he poured forth these lamentations:–“I am the man that hath seen affliction by the rod of his wrath. He hath led me, and brought me into darkness, but not into light. Surely against me is he turned; he turneth his hand against me all the day.” “He hath set me in dark places, as they that be dead of old. He hath hedged me about, that I cannot get out; he hath made my chain heavy.” “And thou hast removed my soul far off from peace: I forgat prosperity. And I said, My strength and my hope is perished from the Lord: remembering mine affliction and my misery, the wormwood and the gall. My soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled in me.”

And did not our blessed Lord himself experience, as a man, the mystery of sorrow when he cried in Gethsemane, “If it be possible, let this cup pass from me;” and when, during that “hour and power of darkness” on the cross, He exclaimed, “My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?”

If, then, our Father visits us with any sorrow which is to us dark and mysterious, let us “not think it strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try us, as if some strange thing happened to us.” Let us rather gratefully remember, that ever since our Lord has ascended up on high, and given us His Spirit to teach us and to abide with us for ever, and for our profit has recorded in His holy Word not only His acts, but also His _ways_ towards the children of men, we are enabled to see much, light piercing our greatest darkness and sorrow, and so to know God as to strengthen our faith in His wisdom and love.

I do not know any narrative in the whole Word of God which at once reveals so much of this darkness and light–of the mystery of sorrow for a time, and the solution of the mystery afterwards–as that of the sickness, death, and resurrection of Lazarus.

That family in Bethany, we know, consisted of Lazarus and his sisters, Martha and Mary. They were poor, and unknown to the great and busy world; but their riches and rank in the sight of the ministering angels were great indeed, for Jesus “loved them.” This was the charter of the grandest inheritance. But though loved by Jesus, that love did not hinder them from being visited by a sudden affliction, and plunged for a while into deepest gloom. We are able in spirit to cross their lowly threshold, and to understand all that took place in that humble home: for human hearts and human sorrows are the same in every age. Lazarus, the head of the house, is laid on a bed of sickness. We need no details to enable all who have watched the progress of disease in the beloved member of a family–and who has been exempted from this anxiety?–to realise how the symptoms of illness, treated at first perhaps lightly, would become more serious, then alarming, until foreboding thoughts of death pained every tender affection; and we can understand how advice would be asked from kind neighbours, and every possible remedy applied. But in vain! The sufferer gets worse, and the signs of approaching dissolution rapidly succeed in delirium, prostration of strength, or altered features, until the chill of hopelessness creeps over the hearts of the sisters, and hot tears fill their watching eyes, and prayers tremble upon their pale lips, as in silence they wait for the dread hour of death to their dear one! We see it all!

But ere this last moment was reached by Martha and Mary, they are full of hope that it may be averted, for they have a secret source of relief in a Physician of body and soul. So long as they have Jesus with them, they cannot despair. He is not, however, in Bethany, but at Bethabara beyond the Jordan, a day’s journey off. Yet they can send for Him; and they accordingly do so, with this simple message, “Lazarus, whom thou lovest, is sick.” It is enough. There is not a word of their love, or of the love of Lazarus to Him. The appeal is to His own heart. No request is proffered. Everything is left to Himself.

Did they not, however, feel assured that Jesus would manifest His love to them in the way which seemed to _them_ the best way,–nay, the one way only by which they could receive comfort, and be relieved from their anxiety and sorrow,–and that was by delivering Lazarus from sickness and death? For they could not but recall at that moment the many instances in which Jesus had displayed His power and love during the three years He had lived amidst the sorrowing and suffering in Judea; how unwearied His goodness had ever been; how “multitudes” had come to Him, and “He healed them all;” how health had flowed from His hands and His lips, and from His _very_ garments; how He had showered down His blessings upon Gentile as well as Jew, upon those who were aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and were accounted as “dogs;” how He had healed by merely speaking a word at a distance, and even anticipated prayer, by restoring a dead son to his widowed mother, who had never asked or expected such a blessing. And now! will He refuse to help His own beloved friend? Shall strangers, heathen, publicans and sinners, be promptly heard and answered, and Lazarus whom He loved forgotten? Impossible! The healing word must be spoken, or Jesus himself will come and manifest Himself as mighty to save!

Who can doubt but that such were the anticipations of Martha and Mary, when they sent in their distress the message to their Lord and Friend–“Lazarus, whom thou lovest, is sick?”

The messenger has departed. With what anxiety must they have measured out the time within which it was possible for Jesus to receive the intelligence. They who have sent far away for a physician in a critical case, when every minute was precious, can sympathise with their anxiety. Time passes: has the Saviour yet received the tidings of their grief? Probably not, for there is no improvement in Lazarus. The healing word has not been spoken. Time passes: now He must have heard! Yet Lazarus is no better. Time passes: and the messenger has returned, but without Jesus! Yet surely not without some message of consolation? some hope held out of relief? He brings neither! Jesus had said, indeed, that this sickness was not unto death, or rather, was “unto death only for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified thereby.” But what means this? Does it mean that Lazarus was to die? Has Jesus, then, actually refused to aid them? Though He did not promise to come, or had not spoken the word of healing, He must surely do either I It cannot be, no it _cannot_ be, that He will desert them, or leave them alone in this trial! “Jesus, tarry not!” might have been their wailing cry: “Lazarus whom thou lovedst is sinking fast, and soon all will be over with him. Friends, neighbours, look along the road, watch the brow of that distant hill, look along that valley, and see if there are any signs of His coming?”

Alas! ’tis all in vain Lazarus is dead! And beside that silent body the two sisters are breaking their hearts. Life and death, faith and unbelief, are struggling terribly for the mastery, and strange thoughts of Christ flit across their minds like storm-clouds athwart the sun. One brother is gone, the other has not come. The one dearly loved them; the other!–they had believed in Jesus as the Messiah: they had loved Him with reverent and deep affection, they had worshipped–and now!–God of Abraham, forsake us not utterly! Our fathers trusted Thee, and were not put to shame! Oh, deliver our feet from falling, and our souls from going down to the pit! Lord, help our unbelief!

In some such form as this the storm of doubt and anguish must have torn the minds of those mourners. But the storm is not yet over; the deepest darkness has not yet come. Their brother is dead. Death with his marks, which once seen can never be mistaken, stamps every lineament of that well-known countenance. It is death’s colour on the cheek; death’s cold stiffness in the limbs; and no hand but his could so close those eyes and make rigid those lips. There is no swoon here! Swathe him then in the garments of the grave; make ready for the funeral; let him be buried for ever out of sight; follow him to the ancestral tomb, and let the other household dead be remembered, and the other sad processions from the home of the living to the home of the lost and gone be recalled, and think that as they never returned, so never can he. Lay the body gently down beside those who have been long sleeping there; look at it; remember the past since childhood; weep and say farewell; return, Martha and Mary, with wrung hearts to your home, and see the empty room and listen for a voice that is no more, and experience a second death in the emptiness, the silence of this changed abode, and let the heaviest burden of all be borne, the deepest sorrow of all be endured–_the doubt of a Saviour’s love!_

Yes, that terrible agony of doubt was there. Other friends came to sympathise with them, and to be present with them at the funeral; but this Friend was absent, and did not send even one comforting message! Of what avail is His coming now? for Lazarus has been dead four days, and corruption is already doing its foul work on his body. Here is “darkness that might be felt!”

Would that we could feel how real all this mysterious sorrow must have been to those sisters–_our_ sisters, with our hearts, affections, and sympathies–that so we may be the more prepared to receive the blessed teaching which this narrative is designed to afford, and have our faith strengthened by seeing how the darkness and perplexity which belong so often to God’s providential dealings towards us, may be caused by the deepest workings of that very love which we do not for a time see, and therefore may in our blindness and weakness for a time doubt.

But we must now look at the other portion of this history, which interprets the one we have been considering, and reveals the mind and ways of Jesus, now, as then, to His sorrowing friends.

We read that “_when_ Jesus heard that Lazarus was sick,” “he abode two days still in the same place where he then was.” But His thoughts and His heart were all the while in Bethany. He saw all that was taking place there. He was cognisant of every groan and tear; yet He did nothing to prevent the progress of the disease, or to lessen the intensity of the sorrow. At the very moment when the sisters watch their brother’s last breath, Jesus “said unto them plainly, Lazarus is dead,”

Let us inquire, then, whether we can discover any reasons which could have induced our Lord thus to prolong His stay at Bethabara, and to absent Himself from Bethany. What means this deep calm and quiet at such a time beside the troubled waters of the Jordan?

Now, we must ever remember that the grand end of all our Lord did, was that “God might be glorified thereby,”–that the character of the Father might be revealed in the fullest possible manner in and by Jesus the Son. But in order that this, in the circumstances in which He was then placed, might be accomplished, He had many things to consider; many complex interests pertaining to the kingdom of God to weigh and to reconcile, so as to bring out of them all glory to God in the highest, with good-will to man.

(_a._) Jesus had in the first place to consider the _good_ of His beloved _friends in Bethany_. _They_ were thinking probably of their own _comfort only_, and of that too as coming but in one way, by the deliverance of Lazarus from sickness or death. But there is something of more importance to immortal beings than mere comfort. Love to souls is a very different sentiment, and manifested in a very different manner, than love to mere animals. To get quit of grief; to have tears dried up and smiles restored; to be delivered from all anxiety, and relieved from the heavy burden of sorrow, never mind _how_,–this is surely not the highest end which one who, wisely and truly loved, would seek for his brother in adversity? The highest, the best, the enduring and eternal interests of the sufferer must _first_ be considered. His comfort, doubtless, cannot be overlooked, but then it must be such comfort as God can sympathise with and rejoice in; a comfort, therefore, which is in harmony with true spiritual life, and which will strengthen that life unto life eternal. Every other comfort is a delusion, a cheating of the soul, a laughter that must end at last in the experience of a deeper sorrow than before. He who bids us seek _first_ the kingdom of God and His righteousness, cannot discipline us or aid us to seek any lower good first, because He loves our true and highest good most. Jesus had therefore to consider how He could bring true _good_, and therefore true comfort in the end, out of this sickness and death, to Martha, Mary, and also to Lazarus. To restore the brother to his sisters–was this best for _them_, taking into account every circumstance of their history within and without? To restore Lazarus to life–to a world of sin and temptation, again to die–was this the best for _him_? These were solemn questions, which Divine love and wisdom alone could answer.

(_b._) But Jesus had to consider the good of _His disciples._ For years these simple-minded men had followed Him, and had been educating by Him to become the teachers of the world. HOW then shall this event be best turned to account for the strengthening of their faith, for the enlarging of their spiritual vision of God’s glory, as revealed by His Son? But Jesus remembered them also: “I am glad,” He said, “for _your_ sakes that I was not there, to the intent that ye may believe.”

(_c._) Beyond the inner circle of His friends in Bethany and His more immediate followers, there was the multitude of poor, ignorant, fanatical, and _unbelieving Jews_–the wandering sheep, many of whom, had to be gathered into the fold of this the Good Shepherd. Jesus had their interests also at heart, as is evident from His prayer subsequently at the tomb of Lazarus: “_Because of the people_ which stand by I said it, that _they_ may believe that thou hast sent me.”

(_d._) Nor must we, in contemplating the many objects of love which occupied the thoughts of the Saviour, forget how _intimately connected the raising of Lazarus was with His own death_. That last great miracle of Divine power and love–almost, if not His last on earth–was to mark the beginning of His own deepest humiliation and sorrow. The hatred of the Jews was at this time so intense, that Thomas was amazed that He should hazard a journey to a place so near Jerusalem as was Bethany. “The Jews of late sought to stone thee; and goest thou thither again?” And so dangerous did this journey seem, that while bravely resolving to accompany Him, Thomas said, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” But this hatred was to be intensified by the display of Christ’s glory at the tomb of Lazarus; for we read that “from _that_ day forth they took counsel to put Him to death.” The opening of the tomb to bring Lazarus forth was thus the opening of His own to descend thither as “crucified, dead, and buried.” The gratitude of Mary for having her brother restored was soon to be unconsciously expressed by her anointing his mighty Restorer for His own burial. No wonder that Jesus paused ere He took this last step which intervened between Himself and the death which should end His work and mission upon earth.

(_e._) And, as including all these considerations and many more, _His own glory_ as the Divine Son of God was involved in what was to take place at Bethany. And this, again, involved the destinies of the human race, and the good and comfort of the Church throughout coming ages. Whatever became of Martha or Mary or Lazarus,–though the sisters should weep out their little day of life, and though their brother’s sleep should be unbroken till the resurrection morning,–what was all this to the revealing of Jesus as the Saviour of men, and as the “resurrection and the life” of human bodies and of human souls? Inconceivably less in proportion than are the interests of one person to those of the whole universe! And thus you see that while those humble mourners, in the weakness of the flesh, and in their earthly short-sightedness, were thinking only of themselves, Jesus the Saviour of mankind had to think of many persons and of many things, so that every interest might be attended to, and the good of the whole kingdom of God be remembered, while not a hair on the head of Martha, Mary, or Lazarus was forgotten. Oh, blessed Saviour and glorious King! who can thus govern worlds and mould the ages of human history, while His ear is open to the prayers, and His thoughts occupied with the concerns, of the humblest mourners, as if they alone existed in the mighty universe of God!

Before shewing the blessed teaching which sufferers may gather from this twofold picture of mysterious sorrow and of thoughtful love, let us study for a moment the circumstances attending the meeting of Jesus with Martha and Mary. Many of these are deeply interesting and full of instruction; but I confine myself to one point only, the evidence which I cannot but think they afford of the shaken faith of the sisters for a time in the love of Jesus.

Martha was the first to meet Him outside of the town, where in quiet, and undisturbed by the noisy mourners from Jerusalem, and by their sympathising friends, Jesus desired, with His considerate kindness, to probe and heal those sorely wounded hearts. And what was her salutation? “Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died!” What means this? Is it an expression of confidence only in His power? Is it a confession of faith? Or does it not rather evidence unbelief? Does it not imply a sorrowing complaint, uttered, indeed, with reverence, and in such gentle language as was compatible with sincere faith, but still a complaint from a wondering and disappointed because wrung spirit, expressed in language which suggested the additional question asked only in the heart, “_And why wert Thou not here_?” Jesus reasoned with her. She believes, yet still doubts and questions why He had not come; she trusts Him, yet sees no light with reference to His dealings towards themselves. One thing she will do, however, amidst the darkness–she will cling to Christ as her only hope and refuge! Mary remains in the house. Why? Was it that she had not heard of the arrival of Jesus, or of Martha having gone to meet Him? Or is her heart so torn by distracting thoughts, that for a moment she knows not what to do? She dare not say to Him all she feels. Her keen and sensitive heart is agonised by entertaining for a moment even the bare suspicion of unkindness on His part. She fights against the horrid thought, which, like a demon, torments her, yet she cannot yet quite banish it, and meet Him with the full, unreserved, gushing love which something tells her is His due. But however this may have been, a message from Himself rouses her: “The Master is come, and calleth for thee; and as soon as she heard that, she arose quickly and came unto him.” But how did she meet Him! Ah! Martha and she have surely been together pondering over the mystery of His absence, and they have inwardly come to the same conclusion; and so she too fell at the Master’s feet, with the same wailing cry from her full heart, “Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died!” As she uttered these words, “Jesus wept!” There are expressions and single words in Scripture which reveal a whole heaven of glory–like the opening in the telescope, which, though but as a pin-point of light, reveals the glory of sun, moon, and stars. What a revelation of love is this–“Jesus wept!” But what mean these tears? They are visibly significant of much sorrow. The cup of the “Man of sorrows” was always full; what caused it thus to run over? Only twice in His life do we read of the Saviour’s weeping,–now, when at Bethany, and in a few days afterwards, when entering Jerusalem during the week of His crucifixion. Did Jesus now weep from mere human sympathy with sisters mourning for a dead brother? or did He weep because He mourned their own lost faith in His love to them? We are well aware of the tenacity with which most people cling to the former method of accounting for the Saviour’s tears, and what pain it seems to give when the latter view is pressed upon them, as if they were thereby robbed of some special source of comfort in affliction, and left without any other declaration in the Word of God–at all events, without any other incident in the life of Jesus–fitted to inspire confidence in His sympathy. It is not difficult to account for this feeling on our part. For it is much easier to understand tears shed for mere human suffering, than tears shed for human sin. The one kind of sorrow is common, the other is rare. The one is almost instinctive, and necessarily springs from that benevolence which belongs to us as men, but the other can only spring from that love of souls which belongs to us as “partakers of the sufferings of Christ,” and from possessing, therefore, a realising sense of the infinite importance of a right or wrong state of being towards God, and from beholding the darkness of evil casting its dread shadows over a dear one’s spirit. Hence an atheist can mourn over our loss of friends by death, while the man of God alone can mourn over our loss of God himself by unbelief. Then, again, every person welcomes the sympathy of another in his sorrows; while he might at the same time have no sympathy with the grief experienced by another for his sins. The one might be gladly welcomed as most loving, but the other be proudly rejected as most offensive.

Why therefore should true Christians cling with such fondness to the idea of Christ weeping with Martha and Mary, because they lost their brother, and not rather see a far deeper love and a source of far deeper comfort in his tears, because they had, for a moment even, lost their faith? Surely those who know Christ do not depend solely on such a proof as this of the reality of His humanity, and of His sympathy with the affliction of His brethren; nor can that kind of sympathy be the highest which can be afforded by all men whose hearts are not utterly steeled by selfish indifference. Besides, however real Christ’s sympathy was with sorrow of every kind, why did He express it on this occasion more than on any other? Nay, why did He weep at the very moment when He purposed, by a miracle of power, to restore the dead brother to his sisters, and in a few minutes to turn their sorrow into joy? Why weep with those whose tears were shed in ignorance only of the coming event which was so soon to dry them? But the Saviour’s tears came from a different and a profounder source! They welled out of a heart whose deep and tender love was not trusted in, but doubted even by those whom He loved most deeply and tenderly, and at the very moment too when He was about to pour forth upon them the richest treasure of His love, and to do exceeding abundantly above all they could ask or think. Remember only how He of all men loved; how as a man He longed for His brother’s sympathy, and how as a holy Saviour He longed for His brother’s good. Remember how earnestly He sought for the one grand result, that of hearty confidence in His goodwill, as the only restorative of humanity fallen and in ruins through the curse of unbelief. Remember, too, how lonely He was in the world; how few understood Him in any degree, or responded even feebly to the constant, boundless outpouring of His affection; and how many returned His good with evil, His love with bitterest hate;–remember all this, and conceive if you can what His feelings must have been when returning to this home of His heart, to this green spot amidst the wilderness of hateful distrust, with His whole soul full of such glorious purposes of love and self-sacrifice, and then at such a time to find his best and dearest friends smitten with the universal blight, fallen to the earth and prostrate in the dust under the crushing burden of unbelief! He does not weep, at first, when Martha addresses him; but when Mary, the loving and confiding–she of all on earth–complains; when faith has failed in even her!–oh, it is too much for His heart! “And thou too!”–“Jesus wept!” Ah! that shadow of death in such a soul as this was infinitely sadder to Him than the dead body of her brother, nay, than the contents of all the festering graveyards of the world! For what is death to sin? and what is the power which can restore by a word the dead body to life, in comparison with that which is required to restore an unbelieving soul to God? It was this unbelief, the most terrible spectacle which earth presents to the eye of a holy and loving Saviour, that made Him weep as He beheld it for a moment, like a demon-power taking possession of His own best beloved. And it was this same essential evil, and this alone, which made Him weep once again as He entered Jerusalem, when He cried, “How often would I have gathered you, but ye would not!”

In perfect accordance with this view, we read that when some of the Jews said, as He walked towards the tomb of Lazarus, “Could not this man, which opened the eyes of the blind, have caused that even this man had not died?” “Jesus _therefore again_ groaning in himself, cometh to the grave.” For again the words expressed lost faith in His power, or in His love to “this man.” In like manner, when Martha, as if to persuade Him not to attempt impossibilities, reminded Him of the long time in which Lazarus had lain in the grave, saying, “Lord, by this time he stinketh,” Jesus sternly rebukes her, “Said I not unto thee, _that if thou wouldest believe_, thou shouldest see the glory of God?” And tell me, is there not inexpressible comfort in this love which mourns over sin as the greatest loss and the greatest sorrow? I can get many, as I have said, in the world to understand and to feel with me in all my sufferings from loss of wealth, of health, of friends, or of any earthly blessing. Relations, acquaintances, strangers, even enemies, could be found who would do so. But who will so love me as to carry my crushing burden of sin? Who can fully understand its exceeding sinfulness I Who can fathom the depths into which I have fallen, or enter the body of death which imprisons my spirit. One only, the truest, the best, the most loving of all, my Saviour! And His hatred of my sin, and His sorrow for it, is just the measure of His love to me, and of His desire to deliver me, and to make me a partaker of His own blessed rest and peace, through faith and love in His Father and my Father, in His God and my God!

I shall pass by the remaining facts in this narrative, the raising of Lazarus, and the memorable scene when Jesus sat as a guest with the family of Bethany, again restored to one another, and to Himself in love; and when Mary with unutterable thoughts anointed His feet with ointment, and wiped them with the hair of her head. I would rather occupy the space which remains, in gathering from what has been said a few general lessons of importance chiefly to mourners.

My suffering brother or sister! permit me to address you as if personally present with you, seeing your distress, and sharing it as those cannot choose but do who have themselves experienced the darkness of sorrow. Such darkness and perplexity I have known, and I so remember with deepest gratitude the strength and comfort which were then afforded by the revelation of the ways of Christ, as illustrated by this narrative, that I desire to help others as I have been myself helped.

The one grand lesson which it teaches us is, _never, in our darkest hour, to lose confidence in the love of Christ towards us_, as if He had forgotten to be gracious, and either could not or would not help us. Banish the sinful thought! “Beware lest there should be in any of you _the evil heart_ of unbelief.” For such unbelief is the greatest calamity which can befall us. It is, verily, “sorrow’s crown of sorrow,” Let us rather “hold fast our confidence, which hath a great reward.”

Like the family in Bethany, you too, I shall suppose, are visited with a sudden and “mysterious” bereavement. Like them you may pray to Christ, and ask a specific blessing; and like them you may think He has not heard your prayer, nor ever will answer it, because He does not do this at the time or in the manner you wished or anticipated. His thoughts and ways with reference to you may thus be utterly dark–darker than blackest night. Yet the servant of the Lord, “though he walks in darkness, and has no light,” must “trust in the Lord, and stay himself upon his God.” For the ways of Christ to His suffering friends in Bethany, when absent from them beyond the Jordan, are a revelation of His ways to us now, when He is in glory beyond the tomb. Now, as then, He never forgets us, never overlooks the least circumstance in our history, and never ceases for one moment to have that interest in us which is possible only for such a Brother or Saviour to possess. But now, as then, He has _manifold interests to consider_; ten thousand times ten thousand complex and crossing consequences to weigh. While we, perhaps, have our thoughts wholly occupied with but one desire, our own individual comfort, our own deliverance from this or that trial, the wise and all-loving Jesus has to provide for much more than this. Our own good and growth in grace–the good of those in sickness–the good of children, relations, friends, yea, it may be of generations yet unborn, who may be affected at this crisis in our family history by what Jesus does or does not,–all this must be considered by Him who loves all, and seeks the good of all, and who alone can trace out the marvellous and endless network of influence by which man is bound to man from place to place and from age to age. No one, therefore, but the Lord of all can decide what is best to be done in the circumstances of each case, in order that most good may be done, and that God may be glorified thereby. He alone knows how this link of “sickness unto death” is connected with other links in the mysterious chain of human history. And if so, then surely it becomes us, poor, ignorant, blind, selfish creatures, to bow before His throne with holy reverence; to yield ourselves and all our concerns meekly and lovingly into His hands, in the full assurance of faith that our interests are there in best and safest keeping; to feel that it is our first duty and noblest privilege to trust Him when we cannot trace Him, being persuaded that He does all things well, and _that what we know not now we shall know hereafter_.

Amidst all darkness, perplexity, and apparent confusion, remember the certainties which abide unmoved, and “shine aloft as stars.” It is _certain_ that “all things work together for the _good_ of those who love God;” that “thou wilt keep him in perfect _peace_, whose soul is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee;” and that “nothing can separate us from the love of Christ,” (His love to us.) It is _certain_ that our Christian dead are in His presence; and that no one knows them or loves them as that Saviour does, who made them with His own hands, and redeemed them with His own blood. It is _certain_ that if we are believers in Christ, we are still united to those departed ones, in labour, in worship, in love, in hope, and in joy; for, “whether we wake or sleep, we live _together_ with Him.” It is _certain_, that if “we are Christ’s,” “all things are ours, whether life or death, things present or things to come!”

Hold fast, then, O mourner, thy confidence in thy Lord! Have patience, fret not, despair not, and a day shall come to thee like that which came at last to the mourners in Bethany–it may be here, it may not be until we meet Him beyond the bounds of time, yet come it must–when all this earthly history, and all His doings towards us, shall be read in the clear and full light of perfect knowledge; when out of this seeming chaos and confusion the most perfect order will be evolved before our wondering eyes; and when we shall joyfully acknowledge with what majestic grandeur the world has ever been governed by its glorious King! Then, when we hear how He has governed ourselves, and trace the path along which He has led us since childhood, and understand the reasons which induced Him at such a time and in such a way to afflict us;–then, when the ways and thoughts of that mind and heart are laid bare;–and then, too, when we recall our fears, our doubts, our rebellions, our want of confidence in Him, what shall our thoughts and feelings be? When His love and ours, His wisdom and ours, His plans and ours, are thus contrasted, as we sit down at the great supper with our own Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, and every one worthy of our love restored to us for ever, beholding the unveiled face of our Lord in glory; oh, then, it might seem almost essential to our peace to be able to weep bitterly, and repent heartily, for our unworthy suspicions and ungenerous treatment of such a Friend and Saviour! But, blessed be His name! we shall then be able to give Him all He asks, _our whole hearts_, and, like Mary, kneel at His feet, and there pour forth the sweet fragrance of our gratitude, love, and joy, as we too hear from His lips such words as these uttered amidst the light and glory of the upper sanctuary: “Said I not unto thee, that if thou wouldest believe, thou shouldest see the glory of God!”

THE BEGINNING OF A YEAR.

What will happen during this year to ourselves and to those whom we love? Life or death–health or sickness–joy or sorrow–good or evil? What will the coming twelve months bring to me and mine? What _may_ be–what _must_ be–what _ought_ to be? Such questions, multiplied a hundredfold, or broken up into every variety of anxious inquiry, often fill the heart and mind on the first day of a new year.

Now, is it possible for us to find rest and peace for our spirits as we steadily contemplate the future, with its darkness and light, with all the duties and trials which it contains, and with all that it may and must bring forth? Is there any secret of strength and comfort by which we can with courage and hope encounter all the possibilities of the future? There is. Let us only _trust God_, and we need not fear anything, but welcome everything!

Let us consider this; and, first of all, understand what is meant by trusting God.

To trust God, remember, is to trust _Himself_–a living, personal God. It is not to trust to any means whatever whereby He makes Himself known; but to look through them, all, or to go by them all, to the living God himself. This is more than trusting to any truth even revealed in the Bible, for it is trusting the Person who spoke the truth, or of whom the truth is spoken.

To trust God is to trust Him as He is revealed in all the fulness of His glorious character. It is to trust Him as true, and therefore as faithful in keeping every promise, and in fulfilling every threat; as wise, and therefore as never erring in any arrangement made for the well-being of His creatures; as righteous, and therefore as doing right to each and all; as holy, and therefore as hating evil, and loving good; as merciful and therefore as pardoning the guilty through a Redeemer;–it is, in one word, to trust Him “whose name is Love!”–love which shines in every attribute, and is the security for every blessing! Trust and obedience are therefore, from their nature, inseparable.

This trust in God is not common. Nothing, indeed, so common in men’s mouths as the phrases, “I trust in God,” “I have all my dependence on God,” “We have none else to look to but Him,” and the like. But, alas! how meaningless often to men’s hearts are those sayings in men’s mouths! They frequently express confidence only in God’s doing what He has never promised to do;–as when a slothful, idle, dissipated man continues in his wickedness, yet “trusts God” will ward off poverty from him, or provide for his family whom he is all the while robbing. Or the words express confidence in what God has positively declared He never will nor can do;–as when an impenitent man, who has no faith in Christ or love to Him, “trusts God will forgive him,” or make him happy, or not punish him, should he die as he is. All this, and such like trust, is “vain confidence,” trusting a lie, and believing a delusion. Others, again, professing to trust God’s word, manifest a total want of trust in His ways, and do not walk in His commandments, nor submit to His corrections, believing neither to be the will of a holy and loving Father. And thus, men who in theory _say_ they trust God, practically have no trust in Him, whatever they may have in themselves, in the world, or in things seen and temporal. But oh the blessedness and the peace of him whose trust is in the Lord!

Read a few declarations from God’s Word upon the crime of want of trust, and the peace enjoyed when possessing it:–

“Thus saith the Lord, Cursed be the man that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm, and whose heart departeth from the Lord: for he shall be like the heath in the desert, and shall not see when good cometh; but shall inhabit the parched places in the wilderness, in a salt land and not inhabited.” “The Lord also will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble. And they that know thy name will put their trust in thee: for thou, Lord, hast not forsaken them that seek thee.” “Many sorrows shall be to the wicked: but he that trusteth in the Lord, mercy shall compass him about. Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice, ye righteous: and shout for joy, all ye that are upright in heart.” “What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee. In God I will praise his word, in God I have put my trust; I will not fear what flesh can do unto me….In God have I put my trust: I will not be afraid what man can do unto me.” “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee. Trust ye in the Lord for ever: for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength.”

Now, this trust in God has been the character of all God’s people in every age, and under every dispensation. We who live in these latter days may say of all our spiritual ancestry, “Our fathers trusted thee.” They all had faith in the living God, and believed His word to be true, and His ways to be excellent. Abraham did so, when he went forth into the wide world, not knowing whither he went, having but God’s word as a staff to lean on; and when he offered up his only son, believing that God was able even to raise him from the dead. Moses did so, when “by faith he forsook Egypt,” and preferred “the reproach of Christ,” and “endured, as seeing Him who is invisible,” Job did so, when deprived of everything but God himself; when he sat in sackcloth and ashes, and bore the glorious testimony in the presence of men and devils, “Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him,” David did so during his whole life, and his sacred songs are anthems of joyful trust, which the Church of God can never cease to sing till faith is lost in sight. And Jehoshaphat did so, when in the presence of the great invading army he addressed his small band with the noble words, “Trust in the Lord your God, so shall ye be established.” And Daniel did so, when he entered the den of lions, and came out unscathed, “because he believed in the Lord his God.” And Paul did so, when he ended his triumphant life, which he “lived by faith in the Son of God,” with the shout of victory, saying, “I know whom I have trusted, and I am persuaded He can keep what I have committed to Him until that day.” All the children of God have known, loved, and trusted their Father, and have reflected that holy light which shone with unclouded and faultless lustre in the Firstborn of all the brethren; for Jesus ever held fast His confidence in God until His last cry of faith, “_Father_, into Thy hands I commit my spirit!”

Begin the year and spend it in this frame of mind. Know God, trust Him, and go on thy way rejoicing, whatever that way may be. Heaven and earth may pass away, but thou art safe, because right.

Do you, for example, fear the future because it is unknown? Trust God, and fear not! This ignorance of coming events which are to affect our own happiness for time or for eternity is very remarkable, especially when contrasted with our minute and accurate knowledge of other things; such as the future movements of the moon and stars,–events which, though revealing the history of immense worlds, are yet to us of far less importance than the malady which may enter our home to-morrow, and close for ever the eyelids of a babe! In proportion, indeed, as the things of each day are to affect us, God has so concealed them, that we know not what one day is to bring forth. And this ignorance is surely intended to accomplish at least one blessed end–that of making us fly to God himself, and look up to Himself for guidance, for protection, and for peace. The feeblest child thereby becomes filled with such assurance of faith, that, whatever is before him, he can say, “Nevertheless I am _continually_ with thee: thou hast holden me by my right hand. Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me into glory,” How grand, then, is this thought, that whatever may come to the believer out of the mysterious womb of time, or out of the vast recesses of an unknown and immense eternity, nothing can possibly destroy his soul’s peace; for nothing can separate him from the love of the ever-present, unchangeable, omnipotent God. The stars of heaven may fall, and the heavens depart as a scroll, and every mountain and island be moved out of its place; but the meekest child of God will be kept in perfect peace on the bosom of his Father, and there rest, untouched by the revolutions of coming ages, as the rainbow reposes on the bosom of the sky, unmoved by “the strong wind which rends the mountains, and breaks in pieces the rocks before the Lord.”

Whether, therefore, the year is to bring life or death, poverty or riches, health or sickness to us or to our friends,–all is beyond our knowledge or our will. But, thank God, it is nevertheless within the province of our will to secure to ourselves perfect peace and rest. This sure hope is based on the glorious fact that there is a God–a living God who verily governs the universe; whose kingdom is one of righteousness; whose omnipotence is directed by love; and who, consequently, so administers the affairs of His blessed kingdom, as that all its complex machinery of events move in harmony with the safety and peace of every true child.

Again, Do you fear because of coming duties or trials which you cannot but anticipate? Trust God, and fear not! “Cast thy burden”–however great–“the Lord, and _He_ will sustain thee.” Experience tells us that the evils which we once most feared never came, but were purely imaginary, while the things really appointed to us were never anticipated. Let this help us to appreciate God’s goodness and wisdom more in commanding us to “take no anxious thought about the morrow,” because “sufficient for _the day_ is the evil thereof.”

Still you are certain of some duties or trials before you. This sickness, you say, must end in death; or this journey must, if you are in life, be taken to a foreign shore, and last farewells be spoken; or this year you must enter upon this new profession so arduous and so full of risks. And thus each one, with more or less degree of certainty, chalks an imaginary outline of his future course. But supposing all your anticipations to be well-founded, yet, oh! believe that when your day of trial or of duty comes, a Father, if you know Him and trust Him, will come with it. You will have on that dark day a Father’s unerring wisdom to guide you, a Father’s omnipotent arm to uphold you, a Father’s infinite love to soothe you, comfort you, and fully satisfy you. Hear these precious commands and promises:–“fast your confidence, which hath a great reward!” “Be careful for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which passeth understanding, will keep your mind and heart through Christ Jesus!”

Once more, Do you fear the future, lest you should sin and depart from God as you have done in the past? Trust God, and fear not! For how did you depart from God before? From _want of trust_. You lost confidence in your Father’s teaching, and leant on your own understanding, or listened to the voice of strangers; you first lost confidence in your Father’s love and goodwill to you, and in His power to satisfy all your wants, and to give whatever was best for you out of His rich and inexhaustible treasures, and then you demanded the portion of your goods, and departed from Him, and ceased to pray to Him or to think of Him at all, but gave your heart, soul, and strength to the creature. But you had no _peace_. You left the cistern of living waters; but the cisterns hewn out by yourselves held no water to assuage your soul’s thirst. You found it to be “an evil and a bitter thing” to forsake God. Hear, then, His invitation on the first day of a new year: “Return to the Lord thy God!” Arise, and go to thy Father; “abide” with Him; and never more lose thy confidence in Him as thy strength, thy peace, thy life! Trust His mercy to pardon the past; His grace to help in the present; and His love to fill up thy being at all times. “Fear not: I am with thee: I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness!” Your only strength and safety are in God. Daily seek Him, daily trust Him, and you will daily serve Him.

But perhaps you fear the future lest you should not “redeem the time” as you ought to do to the glory of God? Trust God, and fear not! Lost time is a sad and oppressive thought to the child of God. What might he have done! What might he have been! How might he have improved his talents, and cultivated his spirit, and done good to relations, friends, neighbours, and to the world, had he only redeemed days, hours, minutes, which have been spent in sloth or folly! And not one second can be restored. Shall the future be a similar record to the past? You fear to think of it! But be assured that till the last hour of the best spent life, you will need the atoning blood of Jesus for your innumerable shortcomings as a miserable sinner. The very “light of life” which enables you to know and rejoice in Jesus, will enable you also, in proportion as it burns brightly, to know and to mourn over yourselves. But while there is cause for earnest thoughtfulness about coming time, as a talent to be improved for your own good and God’s glory, there is no cause for unbelieving fear, for such “fear hath torment.” God does not give you a _year_ to spend; He gives you but a day; nay, not even that, but only the present moment. He divides the talent of time into minutes, fractions, and says to you, “Employ this one for me.” Therefore do not concern yourself with what is not yours; but as each day or hour comes, trust God! He is not a hard master, reaping where He does not sow; but is a Father sowing in you, and by you, in order that you, as well as Himself, might reap so that “both sower and reaper might rejoice together.” Trust Him for always pointing out to you the path of duty, so that, as a wayfarer, you will never err. Be assured, that when the moment comes in which you must take any step, He will, by some voice in His Word or providence, say to you, “This is the way, walk ye in it!” Be assured, also, that amidst many things undone, or ill done by you, He will still _so_ help you, if sincere, to labour in His cause here, and to improve your time and talents, as to be able hereafter to say, even to you, “Well done, good and faithful servant! enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.” “In the name of the Lord, then, let us lift up our banners!” Enter upon the labours and duties of the year with joy I Art thou not a fellow labourer with thy brother saints and angels, yea, even with thy God? Doth not that omnipotent Spirit of light and love, who uniteth all in one, and who hath led the Church of Christ from grace to glory, dwell in thee? Wherefore, then, dost thou dishonour God and His word by unbelieving fear?

Finally, the experience of the past may strengthen your faith in God for the future. You have never trusted Him in vain. He has never failed you in time of need. You have always found His _strength_ sufficient to uphold you, and His _wisdom_ able to arrange for you, and His _love_ inexhaustible in supplying your manifold wants. Ah! had you foreseen, years ago, all the past journey, so often dark and perplexing, which you have since pursued; and also all the duties which have successively claimed your energies for their performance; and all the trials, so many, so varied, which you have had to endure; would you not have sunk down in despair before the spectacle? But you did _not_ foresee what is now past. God in mercy concealed it from you, as He does what is now future. And therefore you did not then, as you cannot now, despair. The Lord _has_ hitherto helped you, and led you through the wilderness, and held you up, and kept you from falling; and so it is that both in your inward and outward state, you _are_ this day a monument of His power, mercy, patience, grace!

And now, in peace of heart, say with Paul, “I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, _which_ is in Christ Jesus our Lord!” Lord, it is enough! Never separated from Thyself for one moment in our existence, here or anywhere, we can never be separated from the chief object of our affections, from Him who is the fulness of our whole being, the never-failing source of our blessedness and joy. Believing in Thee our Father, we enter another year, and advance along our endless journey, not knowing what a day or an hour may bring forth; but knowing this, as all we care to know, that during every day and hour we are “continually with Thee.” A long life on earth may be ours, but neither its labours nor its cares, its temptations nor its trials, shall be able to destroy our peace, because unable to separate us from Thy love. Thy love will give life to every duty, deliverance from every temptation, guidance in every perplexity, and comfort in every trial. Death may come, in what form or in what circumstances, how soon or how late, we cannot tell; but we fear no evil, however dark its shadow, for “_Thou_ art with us.” Eternity must come, and may come to us ere the year ends. But whatever things beyond the grave are hidden from us, Thou Thyself, our Father, art revealed! We know Thee, and this is life eternal!

ADVICES ON ENTERING A NEW YEAR.

1. Let a short portion of time be spent each day this year in private prayer, in reading God’s Word, and, if possible, some devotional book.