{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_48213/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_48213","id":"gutenberg_48213","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/48213","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Poetry","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Religion"],"text":"Transcriber's note:\n\nText enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).\n\nSmall capital text has been replaced with all capitals.\n\nMinor typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected\nwithout note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have\nbeen retained as printed.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Illustration: cover]\n\n\n\n\n  Riverside Edition\n\n  THE WRITINGS OF\n  HARRIET BEECHER STOWE\n\n  _WITH BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTIONS\n  PORTRAITS, AND OTHER\n  ILLUSTRATIONS_\n\n  IN SIXTEEN VOLUMES\n  VOLUME XV\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n  The Writings of\n  Harriet Beecher Stowe\n\n  Riverside Edition\n\n  [Illustration: large house]\n\n  HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.\n\n\n\n\n  RELIGIOUS STUDIES\n  SKETCHES AND POEMS\n\n  BY\n  HARRIET BEECHER STOWE\n\n  [Illustration]\n\n  BOSTON AND NEW YORK\n  HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY\n  The Riverside Press, Cambridge\n\n  1896\n\n\n\n\n  Copyright, 1855,\n  BY PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO.\n\n  Copyright, 1867, 1883, and 1895,\n  BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.\n\n  Copyright, 1876,\n  BY J. B. FORD & CO.\n\n  Copyright, 1896,\n  BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.\n\n  _All rights reserved._\n\n\n  _The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._\n\n  Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                   PAGE\n\n  INTRODUCTORY NOTE                                  ix\n\n\n  RELIGIOUS STUDIES.\n\n  FOOTSTEPS OF THE MASTER.\n\n  Advent\n\n  I. CHRIST IN THE OLD TESTAMENT                      1\n  II. CHRIST IN PROPHECY                             11\n\n  Christmas\n\n  III. THE CRADLE OF BETHLEHEM                       23\n  IV. THE BLESSED WOMAN                              30\n\n  V. THE HOLY CHILDHOOD                              40\n\n  Epiphany\n\n  VI. GENTILE PROPHECIES OF CHRIST                   44\n  VII. THE HIDDEN YEARS OF CHRIST                    52\n\n  Lent\n\n  VIII. THE PRAYER-LIFE OF JESUS                     57\n  IX. THE TEMPTATIONS OF JESUS                       62\n  X. OUR LORD'S BIBLE                                66\n  XI. CHRIST'S FIRST SERMON                          71\n  XII. THE FRIENDSHIPS OF JESUS                      75\n  XIII. CHRIST'S UNWORLDLY METHODS                   83\n  XIV. CHRIST AND THE FALLEN WOMAN                   87\n  XV. THE REVEALER OF GOD'S SYMPATHY                 94\n  XVI. THE ATTRACTIVENESS OF JESUS                  108\n  XVII. THE TOLERANCE OF JESUS                      117\n  XVIII. THE SILENCE OF JESUS                       121\n  XIX. THE SECRET OF PEACE                          125\n  XX. THE CHURCH OF THE MASTER                      130\n  XXI. JUDAS                                        143\n\n  Passion Week\n\n  XXII. GOING UP TO JERUSALEM                       150\n  XXIII. THE BARREN FIG-TREE                        155\n  XXIV. CAIAPHAS                                    159\n  XXV. THE JOY OF CHRIST                            162\n  XXVI. GETHSEMANE                                  165\n  XXVII. THE LAST WORDS OF JESUS                    170\n  XXVIII. THE DARKEST HOUR                          174\n\n  Easter\n\n  XXIX. THE RESURRECTION OF JESUS                    177\n\n  Ascension\n\n  XXX. THE ASCENSION OF OUR LORD                     183\n  XXXI. THE HOLY SPIRIT                              184\n  XXXII. CHRIST'S SECOND LIFE, IN HIS FOLLOWERS      186\n\n  EARTHLY CARE A HEAVENLY DISCIPLINE                 194\n\n  THE MINISTRATION OF OUR DEPARTED FRIENDS           202\n\n\n  RELIGIOUS SKETCHES.\n\n  CHILDREN                                          208\n  THE OLD OAK OF ANDOVER                            212\n  THE ELDER'S FEAST: A TRADITION OF LAODICEA        217\n  A SCENE IN JERUSALEM                              226\n  THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE                             234\n  LITTLE EDWARD                                     243\n  CONVERSATION ON CONVERSATION                      250\n  HOW DO WE KNOW                                    258\n  HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH MAMMON                   263\n  THE SABBATH                                       273\n\n\n  RELIGIOUS POEMS.\n\n  ST. CATHERINE BORNE BY ANGELS                     301\n  THE CHARMER                                       304\n  KNOCKING                                          306\n  THE OLD PSALM TUNE                                309\n  THE OTHER WORLD                                   312\n  MARY AT THE CROSS                                 314\n  THE INNER VOICE                                   317\n  ABIDE IN ME, AND I IN YOU                         319\n  THE SECRET                                        321\n  THINK NOT ALL IS OVER                             322\n  LINES TO THE MEMORY OF \"ANNIE\"                    323\n  THE CROCUS                                        325\n  CONSOLATION                                       327\n  \"ONLY A YEAR\"                                     329\n  BELOW                                             331\n  ABOVE                                             332\n  LINES SUGGESTED BY THE DEATH OF THE WIFE OF\n        MOSES STUART                                334\n  SUMMER STUDIES                                    337\n  THE SHEPHERDS' CAROL                              340\n\n  HOURS OF THE NIGHT; OR, WATCHES OF SORROW.\n\n  I. MIDNIGHT                                       342\n  II. FIRST HOUR                                    344\n  III. SECOND HOUR                                  346\n  IV. THIRD HOUR                                    348\n  V. FOURTH HOUR                                    350\n  VI. DAY DAWN                                      354\n  VII. WHEN I AWAKE I AM STILL WITH THEE            356\n\n  PRESSED FLOWERS FROM ITALY.\n\n  A DAY IN THE PAMFILI DORIA                        358\n  THE GARDENS OF THE VATICAN                        362\n  ST. PETER'S CHURCH                                363\n  THE MISERERE                                      364\n\n\nThe frontispiece portrait of Mrs. Stowe is from a photograph taken\nin 1862.\n\nThe vignette (Mrs. Stowe's home at Andover, Mass.) is from a\npainting in 1860 by F. Roundel.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTORY NOTE.\n\n\nNo one can read Mrs. Stowe's writings as a whole without perceiving\nhow constant is the appeal to the religious sensibilities. Her\ngreatest book, which took captive the humblest reader and such\na genius in literature as George Sand, was in a marked degree a\nreligious book; and again and again, even in playful scenes, there\nis a quick passage to the religious nature. The explanation is in\nthe simple fact that Mrs. Stowe herself from early girlhood to her\nlatest years was governed by religion, and it is not surprising,\ntherefore, that an entire volume should be gathered from her\nwritings exclusively given over to direct expression of religious\nfeeling and thought.\n\nShe would gladly, especially in her later life, have confined\nherself to writing of this sort, for the realities of faith,\nespecially the presence of the Divine Master, came to have a\ncommanding power over her mind and heart, and to make her almost\nimpatient of much concern about adventures of the ordinary sort.\nEven the reminiscence of the racy life of the New England of her\nchildhood could not absorb her. \"I would much rather,\" she writes\nin 1876 to her son Charles, \"have written another such a book as\n_Footsteps of the Master_, but all, even the religious papers,\nare gone mad on serials.\" The book which she was then writing was\n_Poganuc People_, and the reader knows what a thread of religious\nexperience runs through that lively narrative.\n\n_Footsteps of the Master_ was published in 1877. In its original\nform, each section contained interludes of verse, sometimes her own,\nmore frequently hymns and poems from well-known sources. There were\nalso scriptural passages illustrative of the great divisions, and\nthe book was set forth thus as a devotional companion. In reissuing\nit in this volume, the poems by the author have been preserved\nin the section given to her Religious Poems; the others and the\nillustrative scriptural passages have been omitted and Mrs. Stowe's\nMeditations preserved in their continuous form. The word \"To the\nReader,\" prefixed to the volume, is as follows:--\n\n     When a city is closely besieged and many of its outworks\n     destroyed, the defenders retreat to the citadel. In our day\n     there is warm fighting about the outworks of Christianity. Many\n     things are battered down that used to be thought indispensable\n     to its defense. It is time to retreat to the citadel; and that\n     citadel is CHRIST.\n\n     The old medi\u00e6val symbol shown above[1] is still more than ever\n     good for our day. Jesus Christ of Nazareth is still our King,\n     our Light, our Law, our Leader. These names comprise all that a\n     human being needs in this transitory, perplexing and dangerous\n     pilgrimage of life.\n\n       [1] The familiar combination of Rex. Lux, Lex, Dux.\n\n     We are born to suffer. The very conditions of our mortal\n     existence here imply suffering of the most terrible kind as a\n     possibility, a probability, or a certainty. We have affections\n     absorbing our whole being which are hourly menaced by danger and\n     by death--at any moment our sweetest joys may become sources\n     only of bitterest remembrance.\n\n     We are born to perplexity. We stand amid the jar and conflict\n     of a thousand natural laws, to us inexplicable, and which every\n     hour threaten us in ourselves or those dearer than ourselves. We\n     stand often in no less perplexity of moral law in ways where the\n     path of duty and right is darkened and beset.\n\n     We are born to die. At the end of every possible road of life\n     lies the dark River--the unknown future. If we cling to life,\n     it is only to see it wither gradually in our hands, to see\n     friends dropping from our side, places vacant at our fireside,\n     infirmities and pains gathering about us, and a new generation\n     with their impetuous energies rising around us to say, Why do\n     you wait here? Why are you not gone?\n\n     And the Hereafter? What is it? Who will go with us into that\n     future where no friend, however dear, can accompany the soul?\n     What hand of power and love will take ours in the last darkness,\n     when we have let go all others?\n\n     The dear old book which we call the Bible gives our answer to\n     all this. It tells us of a Being so one with the great Author\n     of nature and Source of all power that whoso hath seen him hath\n     seen the Creator. It tells us that all things that we behold in\n     our material world were made by him and for him: that it pleased\n     the Father that in him should all fullness dwell, and that to\n     him all things in heaven and on earth are made subject. It shows\n     him to us from the beginning of time as constantly absorbed in\n     the care and education of this world of ours. He has been the\n     Desire of all nations--predicted, waited for, come at last!\n\n     And when he came and lived a mortal life what did he show the\n     divine nature to be? It may all be told in one word:--LOVE.\n     Love, unconquered, unconquerable by human sin and waywardness.\n     Love, sympathetic with the inevitable sorrows of human\n     existence. Love, expressed in every form by which a God could\n     express love. His touch was healing; the very hem of his garment\n     had restoring virtue. He lived and loved as we live and love,\n     only on a higher ideal,--he gave to every human affection a more\n     complete interpretation, a more perfect fullness. And finally,\n     as the highest revelation of Love, he died for us, and in\n     anguish and blood and dying pains still loved, still prayed for\n     us, the ungrateful race of man. He passed through the night of\n     death that he might learn not to fear it, and came forth radiant\n     and immortal to tell us that we shall never die.\n\n     By a refinement of infinite mercy, the law of our lives is\n     written not in hard statutes but in the life of this tender\n     and sympathetic friend. Christ is our law. We learn courage,\n     patience, fortitude, forgiving love from him. The lesson\n     impossible in statute is made easy by sympathy. But lest the\n     very brightness of the ideal fill us with despair we have his\n     promise, \"Lo, _I_ am with you alway to the end of the world!\n     I will not leave you comfortless. I will come to you.\" Jesus,\n     as an inseparable soul-friend--a consoler, a teacher, an\n     enlightener--dwells on earth now in a higher sense than when he\n     walked the hills of Palestine.\n\n         \"Forever more beside us on our way,\n           The unseen Christ doth move,\n         That we may lean upon his arm and say,\n           'Dost thou, dear Lord, approve?'\"\n\n     To that great multitude whom no man can number, who are living\n     the hidden life of faith, these studies into the life of our\n     Master are dedicated. They have been arranged in the order of\n     the seasons of the Christian year, with the hope of aiding the\n     efforts of those who wish at these sacred seasons to bring our\n     Lord more clearly to mind.\n\n     We hear much of modern skepticism. There is, perhaps, no more\n     in the world now than there has always been, only its forms are\n     changed. Its answer lies not in argument, but in the lives of\n     Christ's followers. It was Christians who lived like Christ that\n     won the first battle for Christianity, and it must be Christians\n     who live like Christ that shall win the last. The life of faith\n     in the Son of God, when fully lived out, always has been and\n     always will be a victorious argument.\n\n     But to live this our faith must be firm. We cannot meet a\n     skeptical world with weak faith. If we would draw our friend\n     out of a swift-rushing current, our own feet must not stand on\n     slippery places. We must seek faith in looking to Him who has\n     the giving of it. We must keep Him before our minds, and come so\n     near Him in daily prayer that we can say: \"That which we have\n     seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon and our hands have\n     handled, of the Word of Life, declare we unto you.\"\n\n     And even to those who have no conscious belief in Christ, his\n     name can never be a matter of indifference. Whether they believe\n     it or not, Christ stands to them in a peculiar relation that no\n     other being holds. He is their best Friend, the Shepherd that\n     is seeking them, the generous Saviour and Giver that is longing\n     to save them from all that they fear and to give exceeding\n     abundantly beyond all they can ask or think.\n\nThe other _Studies_ and the _Religious Sketches_ which follow are\ndrawn from the early _Mayflower_ and intimate how instinctively in\nthe beginning of her career as a writer Mrs. Stowe turned her mind\nin this direction. Her poems appeared at irregular intervals and\nwere gathered into a volume by themselves in 1867. The collection\nthen issued is here slightly enlarged by the inclusion of one or two\nestrays.\n\n\n\n\nRELIGIOUS STUDIES\n\n\n\n\nFOOTSTEPS OF THE MASTER\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nCHRIST IN THE OLD TESTAMENT\n\n  \"The Lamb slain from the foundation of the world.\"\n\n\nOur Lord asserts nothing more frequently than that he came to this\nworld, not as other men come, but as a voluntary exile from a higher\nand purer life. He said in public, speaking to the Jews, \"I came\ndown from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of him that\nsent me.\" When the Jews tauntingly said to him, \"Thou art not yet\nfifty years old, and hast thou seen Abraham?\" he answered, \"Before\nAbraham was, I AM.\" In fact, while he walked as a brother among men,\nthere were constant and mysterious flashes from the life of a higher\nsphere. Jesus moved about in our life as a sympathetic foreigner\nwho ever and anon in moments of high excitement breaks out into\nhis native language. So Christ at times rose into the language of\nheaven, and spoke for a moment, unconsciously as it were, in the\nstyle of a higher world.\n\nHe did not say, \"Before Abraham was, I _was_,\" but \"I AM,\" using\nthe same form which in the Old Testament is used by Jehovah when\nhe declares his name to Moses, \"I AM that I am.\" So, too, when\nconversing with Nicodemus, our Lord asserts that he is the only\nperson competent to bear testimony to heavenly things, because he\ncame from heaven.\n\nHe says, \"No man hath ascended into heaven but he that came down\nfrom heaven, even the Son of man which is in heaven.\" This last is\none of those changes into the language of a higher world which so\noften awed and perplexed those who talked with Jesus. It would seem\nthat he had the power by moments to breathe aside the veil which\nseparates from the higher state, and to be in heaven. Such a moment\nwas this, when he was declaring to an honest-minded, thoughtful\ninquirer the higher truths of the spiritual life, and asserting\nhis right to know about heavenly things, because he came down from\nheaven--yea, because for the moment he was in heaven.\n\nBut in the last hours of his life, when he felt the scenes of his\nhumiliations and sufferings approaching, he declared this truth, so\noften shadowed and intimated, with explicit plainness. He said, \"I\ncame forth from the Father, and am come into the world. Again, I\nleave the world, and go to the Father.\" This was stating the truth\nas plainly as human words can do it, and the disciples at last\nunderstood him fully. \"Lo! now speakest thou plainly, and speakest\nno proverb.\" And in that affecting prayer that followed our Lord\nbreathes the language of an exile longing to return to the home of\nhis love: \"And now, O Father! glorify me with thine own self--with\nthe glory that I had with thee before the world was.\"\n\nIt is then most plain on the face of the New Testament that our\nLord had a history before he came to this world. He was a living\npower. He was, as he says, in glory with the Father before the world\nwas. Are there any traces of this mysterious Word, this divine Son,\nthis Revealer of God in the Old Testament? It has been the approved\nsentiment of sound theologians that in the Old Testament every\nvisible appearance of an Angel or divine Man to whom the name of\nJehovah is given is a pre-appearance of the Redeemer, Jesus. It is a\nmost interesting study to pursue this idea through the Old Testament\nhistory, as is fully done by President Edwards in his \"History of\nRedemption\" and by Dr. Watts in his \"True Glory of Christ.\" In\nMilton's \"Paradise Lost\" he represents the Son of God as being \"the\nLord God who walked in the Garden of Eden\" after the trespass of our\nfirst parents, and dwells on the tenderness of the idea that it was\nin the cool of the day,--\n\n            \"when from wrath more cool\n    Came the mild Judge and Intercessor both.\"\n\nThis sentiment of the church has arisen from the plain declaration\nin the first chapter of John, where it is plainly asserted that \"no\nman hath seen God at any time, but the only begotten Son, which is\nin the bosom of the Father, he hath declared him.\" The Old Testament\nrecords to which our Lord constantly appealed were full of instances\nin which a being called Jehovah, and spoken of as God,--the Almighty\nGod,--had appeared to men, and the inference is plain that all these\nwere pre-appearances of Christ.\n\nIt is an interesting study for the sacred season of Advent to trace\nthose pre-appearances of our Lord and Saviour in the advancing\nhistory of our race. A series of readings of this sort would be\na fit preparation for the triumphs of Christmas, when he, the\nlong-desired, was at last given visible to man.\n\nWe shall follow a few of these early appearances of the Saviour,\nin the hope that some pious hearts may be led to see those traces\nof his sacred footsteps, which brighten the rugged ways of the Old\nTestament history.\n\nIn the eighteenth chapter of Genesis we have an account of a long\ninterview of Abraham with a being in human form, whom he addresses\nas Jehovah, the Judge of all the earth. We hear him plead with him\nin words like these;--\n\n     \"Behold now, I have taken on me to speak unto Jehovah, which am\n     but dust and ashes ... that be far from thee to do after this\n     manner, to slay the righteous with the wicked: and that the\n     righteous should be as the wicked. Shall not the Judge of all\n     the earth do right?\"\n\nWhat a divine reticence and composure it was, on the part of our\nLord, when afterwards he came to earth and the scoffing Jews said to\nhim, \"Thou art not yet fifty years old, and hast thou seen Abraham?\"\nHe did not tell them how their father Abraham had been a suppliant\nat his feet ages ago, yet he must have thought of it as they thus\ntaunted him.\n\nAgain we read in Genesis xxviii., when Jacob left his father's house\nand lay down, a lonely traveler, in the fields with a stone for his\npillow, the pitying Jesus appeared to him:--\n\n     \"He dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the\n     top of it reached unto heaven; and behold the angels of God\n     ascending and descending upon it. And behold, Jehovah stood\n     above it, and said, I am Jehovah, God of Abraham, thy father.\"\n\nAs afterwards Jesus, at the well of Samaria, chose to disclose his\nMessiahship to the vain, light-minded, guilty Samaritan woman, and\ncall her to be a messenger of his good to her townsmen, so now he\nchose Jacob--of whom the worst we know is that he had yielded to\nan unworthy plot for deceiving his father--he chose him to be the\nfather of a powerful nation. Afterward our Lord alludes to this\nvision in one of his first conversations with Nathaniel, as given by\nSt. John:--\n\n     \"Jesus said unto him, Because I said unto thee, I saw thee under\n     the fig-tree, believest thou? thou shalt see greater things than\n     these, Verily I say unto you, hereafter ye shall see heaven open\n     and the angels of God ascending and descending _upon the Son of\n     man_.\"\n\nThis same divine Patron and Presence watches over the friendless\nJacob until he becomes rich and powerful, the father of a numerous\ntribe. He is returning with his whole caravan to his native land.\nBut the consequence of his former sin meets him on the way. Esau,\nthe brother whom he deceived and overreached, is a powerful prince,\nand comes to meet him with a band of men.\n\nThen Jacob was afraid and distressed, and applies at once to his\nheavenly Helper. \"I am not worthy,\" he says, \"of all the mercy\nand all the truth which thou hast shown to thy servant, for with\nmy staff I passed over this Jordan and now I am become two bands.\nDeliver me, I pray thee, from the hand of my brother Esau, for\nI fear him, lest he come and smite me and the mother with the\nchildren.\" Such things were common in those days--they were possible\nand too probable--and what father would not pray as Jacob prayed?\n\nThen follows a passage of singular and thrilling character. A\nmysterious stranger comes to him, dimly seen in the shadows of the\ncoming dawn. Is it that human Friend--that divine Jehovah? Trembling\nand hoping he strives to detain him, but the stranger seeks to flee\nfrom him. Made desperate by the agony of fear and entreaty, he\nthrows his arms around him and seeks to hold him. The story is told\nbriefly thus:--\n\n     \"And Jacob was left alone. And there wrestled A MAN with him\n     until the breaking of day. And when he saw that he prevailed not\n     he touched the hollow of his thigh, and the hollow of Jacob's\n     thigh was out of joint as he wrestled with him. And the man\n     said, Let me go, for the day breaketh; and he said, I will not\n     let thee go except thou bless me. And he said, What is thy name?\n     and he said, Jacob. And he said, Thy name shall be called no\n     more Jacob, but Israel: for as a prince thou hast power with God\n     and with men, and hast prevailed. And Jacob said, I beseech thee\n     tell me thy name. And he said, Wherefore is it that thou dost\n     ask after my name? And he blessed him there.\"\n\nHow like is this mysterious stranger to the One in the New Testament\nhistory who after the resurrection joined the two sorrowful\ndisciples on the way to Emmaus. There is the same mystery, the same\nreserve in giving himself fully to the trembling human beings who\nclung to him. So when the disciples came to their abode \"he made\nas though he would go farther,\" and they constrained him and he\nwent in. As he breaks the bread they know him, and immediately he\nvanishes out of their sight.\n\nIn his dying hour (Gen. xlviii.) the patriarch Jacob, after an\nearthly pilgrimage of a hundred and forty-seven years, recalls these\nblessed visions of his God:--\n\n     \"And Jacob said to Joseph, God Almighty appeared to me at Luz in\n     the land of Canaan and blessed me.\"\n\nAnd again, blessing the children of Joseph, he says:--\n\n     \"God, before whom my fathers Abraham and Isaac did walk, the God\n     which fed me all my life long unto this day, the Angel which\n     redeemed me from all evil, bless the lads.\"\n\nBut it was not merely to the chosen father of the chosen nation that\nthis pitying Friend and Saviour appeared. When the poor, passionate,\ndesperate slave-girl Hagar was wandering in the wilderness,\nstruggling with the pride and passion of her unsubdued nature,\nhe who follows the one wandering sheep appeared and spoke to her\n(Gen. xvi.). He reproved her passionate impatience; he counseled\nsubmission; he promised his protection and care to the son that\nshould be born of her and the race that should spring from her. Wild\nand turbulent that race of men should be; and yet there was to be a\nSaviour, a Care-taker, a Shepherd for them. \"And she called the name\nof the Lord that spake unto her, Thou God seest me; for she said,\nHave I also here looked after him that seeth me?\"\n\nAfterwards, when the fiery, indomitable passions of the slave-woman\nagain break forth and threaten the peace of the home, and she is\nsent forth into the wilderness, the Good Shepherd again appears to\nher. Thus is the story told (Gen. xxi.):--\n\n     \"And the water was spent in the bottle, and she cast the child\n     under one of the shrubs, and she went and sat down a good way\n     off, for she said, Let me not see the death of the child. And\n     God heard the voice of the lad, and the angel of the Lord called\n     to Hagar out of heaven, saying, What aileth thee, Hagar? fear\n     not. God hath heard the voice of the lad where he is. Arise,\n     lift up the lad, hold him in thy hand, for I will make of him\n     a great nation. And God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of\n     water.\"\n\nThus did he declare himself the Care-taker and Saviour not of the\nJews merely, but of the Gentiles. It was he who afterwards declared\nthat he was the living bread which came down from heaven, which he\ngave for the life of the WHOLE WORLD.\n\nAfterwards, in the history of Moses in the wilderness of Sinai, we\nread of a divine Being who talked with him in a visible intimacy:--\n\n     \"And it came to pass, as Moses entered into the tabernacle, the\n     cloudy pillar descended and stood at the door of the tabernacle,\n     and Jehovah talked with Moses. And all the people saw the cloudy\n     pillar stand at the tabernacle door, and all the people rose up\n     and worshiped, each man in his tent door. _And Jehovah spake\n     unto Moses, face to face, as a man speaketh unto his friend._\"\n\nSome record of this strange conversation is given. Moses was a\nman of wonderful soul, in whom was the divine yearning; he longed\nto know more and more of his God, and at last beseeches to have\nthe full beatific vision of the divine nature in its glory; but\nthe answer is: \"Thou canst not see my face [in its divine glory],\nfor there shall no man see me and live.\" That overpowering vision\nwas not for flesh and blood; it would dissolve the frail bonds of\nmortality and set the soul free, and Moses must yet live, and labor,\nand suffer.\n\nWhat an affecting light this interview of Moses sheds on that scene\nin the New Testament, where, just before his crucifixion, the\ndisciples see their Master in the glory of the heavenly world, and\nwith him Moses and Elijah, \"who spake with him of his decease, which\nhe should accomplish at Jerusalem,\"--Moses, who had been taught by\nthe divine Word in the wilderness how to organize all that system of\nforms and sacrifices which were to foreshadow and prepare the way\nfor the great Sacrifice--the great Revealer of God to man. We see\nthese noble souls, the two grandest prophets of the Old Testament,\nin communion with our Lord about that last and final sacrifice which\nwas to fulfill and bring to an end all others.\n\nA little later on, in the Old Testament history, we come to a time\nrecorded in the Book of Judges when the chosen people, settled in\nthe land of Canaan, sunk in worldliness and sin, have forgotten the\nLord Jehovah, and as a punishment are left to be bitterly oppressed\nand harassed by the savage tribes in their neighborhood. The nation\nwas in danger of extinction. The stock from which was to come\nprophets and apostles, the writers of the Bible which we now read,\nfrom which was to come our Lord Jesus Christ, was in danger of being\ntrampled out under the heel of barbarous heathen tribes. It was a\ncrisis needing a deliverer. Physical strength, brute force, was the\nlaw of the day, and a deliverer was to be given who could overcome\nforce by superior force.\n\nAgain the mysterious stranger appears; we have the account in Judges\nxiii.\n\nA pious old couple who have lived childless hitherto receive an\nangelic visitor who announces to them the birth of a deliverer. And\nthe woman came and told her husband, saying, \"A man of God came unto\nme, and his countenance was like the countenance of an angel of God,\nvery terrible; but I asked him not whence he was, neither told he\nme his name.\" This man, she goes on to say, had promised a son to\nthem who should deliver Israel from the hand of the Philistines.\nManoah then prays to God to grant another interview with the\nheavenly messenger.\n\nThe prayer is heard; the divine Man again appears to them and gives\ndirections for the care of the future child,--directions requiring\nthe most perfect temperance and purity on the part of both mother\nand child. The rest of the story is better given in the quaint and\nbeautiful words of the Bible:--\n\n     \"And Manoah said to the angel of Jehovah, I pray thee let us\n     detain thee till we shall have made ready a kid for thee. And\n     the angel of Jehovah said to Manoah, Though thou detain me\n     I will not eat of thy bread; and if thou wilt offer a burnt\n     offering thou must offer it unto Jehovah. For Manoah knew not\n     that he was an angel of Jehovah. And Manoah said, What is thy\n     name? that when thy sayings come to pass we may do thee honor.\n     And the angel of the Lord said unto him, Why askest thou my\n     name, seeing that it is secret? So Manoah took a kid with a meat\n     offering and offered it upon a rock to the Lord; and the angel\n     did wonderously, and Manoah and his wife looked on. For it came\n     to pass, when the flame went up to heaven from off the altar,\n     that the angel of Jehovah ascended in the flame on the altar,\n     and Manoah and his wife fell on their faces on the ground. And\n     Manoah said, We shall surely die, for we have seen God.\"\n\nThis tender, guiding Power, this long-suffering and pitying Saviour\nof Israel, appears to us in frequent glimpses through the writings\nof the prophets.\n\nIsaiah says, \"In all their affliction He was afflicted, and the\nAngel of his Presence saved them; in his love and his pity he\nredeemed them, and he bore and carried them all the days of old.\"\n\nIt is this thought that gives an inexpressible pathos to the\nrejection of Christ by the Jews. St. John begins his gospel by\nspeaking of this divine Word, who was with God in the beginning,\nand was God; that he was in the world, and the world was made by\nhim, and the world knew him not. He came unto his own, and his own\nreceived him not.\n\nThis gives an awful, pathetic meaning to those tears which Christ\nshed over Jerusalem, and to that last yearning farewell to the\ndoomed city:--\n\n     \"O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets and\n     stonest them that are sent unto thee; how often would I have\n     gathered thy children as a hen doth gather her brood under her\n     wings, and ye would not.\"\n\nIt gives significance to that passage of Revelation where Christ is\ncalled \"the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world.\"\n\nNot alone in the four years when he ministered on earth was he the\nsuffering Redeemer; he was always, from the foundation of the world,\nthe devoted sacrifice: bearing on his heart the sinning, suffering,\nwandering race of man, afflicted in their afflictions, bearing their\ngriefs and carrying their sorrows, the friend of the Jew and the\nGentile, the seeker for the outcast, the guide of the wanderer,\nthe defender of the helpless, the consoler of the desolate, the\nself-devoted offering to and for the sins of the world.\n\nIn all these revelations of God, one idea is very precious. He\nreveals himself not as a fixed Fate--a mighty, crushing, inexorable\nPower--but as a Being relenting, tender, yearning towards the\nrace of man with infinite tenderness. He suffers himself to be\nimportuned; he hides himself that he may be sought, and, although he\nis omnipotent, though with one touch he might weaken and paralyze\nhuman strength, yet he suffers human arms to detain and human\nimportunity to conquer him, and he blesses the man that will not let\nhim go except he bless. On this scene Charles Wesley has written his\nbeautiful hymn beginning,--\n\n     \"Come, O thou Traveler unknown.\"\n\nThe struggles, the sorrows, and aspirations of the soul for an\nunknown Saviour have never been more beautifully told.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nCHRIST IN PROPHECY\n\n\nIn the Old Testament Scriptures we have from the beginning of the\nworld an advent dawn--a rose sky of Promise. HE IS COMING, is the\nmysterious voice that sounds everywhere, in history, in prophecy,\nin symbol, type, and shadow. It spreads through all races of men;\nit becomes an earnest aspiration, a sigh, a moan of struggling\nhumanity, crying out for its Unknown God.\n\nIn the Garden of Eden came the first oracle, which declared that\nthe SEED of the woman should bruise the serpent's head. This was an\nintimation, vague yet distinct, that there should come a Deliverer\nwho should break the power of evil. From that hour every mother had\nhope, and child-bearing was invested with dignity and blessing. When\nthe mother of all brought the first son into the world, she fondly\nhoped that she had brought forth the Deliverer, and said, \"I have\ngotten the MAN _Jehovah_.\"\n\nPoor mother! destined to a bitter anguish of disappointment!\nThousands of years were to pass away before the second Eve should\nbring forth the MAN Jehovah.\n\nIn this earliest period we find in the history of Job the anguish,\nthe perplexities, the despair of the helpless human creature,\ncrushed and bleeding beneath the power of an unknown, mighty Being,\nwhose ways seem cruel and inexplicable, but with whom he feels that\nexpostulation is impossible:--\n\n     \"Lo, he goeth by me and I see him not; he passeth on also and\n     I perceive him not. Behold, he taketh away, and who can hinder\n     him? who will say unto him, What doest thou? If God will not\n     withdraw his anger, the proud helpers do stoop under him. How\n     then shall I answer him and choose out words to reason with him?\"\n\nJob admits that he desires to reason with God to ask some account of\nhis ways. He says:--\n\n     \"My soul is weary of my life. I will speak in the bitterness of\n     my soul. I will say unto God, Do not condemn me; show me why\n     thou contendest with me. Is it good that thou shouldest oppress,\n     that thou shouldest despise the work of thy hands?\"\n\nHe then goes through with all the perplexing mysteries of life. He\nsees the wicked prosperous and successful, and he that had always\nbeen devoted to God reduced to the extreme of human misery; he\nwrestles with the problem; he longs to ask an explanation; but it\nall comes to one mournful conclusion:--\n\n     \"He is not a man as I am, that I should answer him, and we\n     should come together in judgment. Neither is there any daysman\n     [arbiter] between us, that might lay his hand on both of us.\n     Let him take his rod away and let not his fear terrify me. Then\n     would I speak; but it is not so with me.\"\n\nHere we have in a word the deepest want of humanity: a daysman\nbetween the infinite God and finite man; a Mediator who should lay\nhis hand on both of them! And then, in the midst of these yearnings\nand complainings, the Spirit of God, the Heavenly Comforter, bearing\nwitness with Job's spirit, breaks forth in the prophetic song:--\n\n    \"I know that my Redeemer liveth\n    And that he shall stand in the latter days upon the earth.\n    And though worms destroy this body,\n    Yet in my flesh shall I see God.\n    I shall see him for myself and not another.\n    My reins are consumed with longing for that day.\"\n\nAs time passes we have the history of one man, called from all\nthe races of men to be the ancestor of this SEED. Abraham, called\nto leave his native land and go forth sojourning as a pilgrim and\nstranger on earth, receives a celestial visitor who says: \"Abraham,\nI am the Almighty God. Walk before me and be thou perfect.\" He\nexacts of Abraham the extremes of devotion--not only to leave his\ncountry, kindred, friends, and be a sojourner in a strange land, but\nto sacrifice the only son of his heart. And Abraham meets the test\nwithout a wavering thought; his trust in God is absolute: and in\nreturn he receives the promise, \"In THY SEED shall all the nations\nof the earth be blessed.\" How Abraham looked upon this promise we\nare told by our Lord himself. The Jews asked him, \"Art thou greater\nthan our father Abraham?\" And he answered, \"Your father Abraham\nrejoiced to see my day--he saw it, and was glad.\"\n\nThe same promise was repeated to Jacob in the self-same words, when\nhe lay sleeping in the field of Luz and saw the heavenly vision of\nthe Son of man.\n\nFrom the time of the first announcement to Abraham his descendants\nbecame the recipients of a special divine training, in which every\nevent of their history had a forelooking to this great consummation.\nThey were taken into Egypt, and, after long suffering, delivered\nfrom a deadly oppression. In the solemn hour of their deliverance\nthe blood of a spotless lamb--\"a lamb without blemish\"--was to mark\nthe door-posts of each dwelling with a sign of redemption. \"Not a\nbone of him shall be broken,\" said the ancient command, referring\nto this typical sacrifice; and when in a later day the Apostle\nJohn stood by the cross of Jesus and saw them break the limbs of\nthe other two victims and leave Jesus untouched, he said, \"that it\nmight be fulfilled which was commanded, not a bone of Him shall be\nbroken.\"\n\nThe yearly festival which commemorated this deliverance was a yearly\nprophecy in every Jewish family of the sinless Redeemer whose blood\nshould be their salvation. A solemn ritual was instituted, every\npart of which was prophetic and symbolic. A high priest chosen from\namong his brethren, who could be touched with the feelings of their\ninfirmities, was the only one allowed to enter that mysterious Holy\nof Holies where were the mercy-seat and the cherubim, the throne\nof the Invisible God. There, for the most part, unbroken stillness\nand solitude reigned. Only on one memorable day of the year, while\nall the congregation of Israel lay prostrate in penitence without,\nthis high priest entered for them with the blood of atonement into\nthe innermost presence of the King Invisible. Purified, arrayed in\nspotless garments, and bearing on his breast--graven on precious\ngems--the names of the tribes of Israel, he entered there, a yearly\nsymbol and prophecy of the greater High Priest, who should \"not by\nthe blood of bulls and of goats, but by his own blood, enter at once\ninto the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us.\"\n\nThus, by a series of symbols and ceremonies which filled the entire\nlife of the Jew, the whole national mind was turned in an attitude\nof expectancy towards the future Messiah. In the more elevated and\nspiritual natures--the poets and the prophets--this was continually\nbursting forth into distinct predictions. Moses says, in his last\nmessage to Israel, \"A prophet shall the Lord your God raise up unto\nyou from the midst of your brethren like unto me; unto Him shall ye\nhearken.\" Our Lord referred to this prophecy when he said to the\nunbelieving Jews, \"Had ye believed Moses ye would have believed me,\nfor he wrote of me.\"\n\nThe promise made at first to Abraham was afterwards repeated not\nonly to Jacob, but long centuries afterward to his descendant,\nDavid, in a solemn, prophetic message, relating first to the reign\nof Solomon, but ending with these words: \"And thy house and thy\nkingdom shall be established forever before thee. Thy throne shall\nbe established forever.\" That David understood these words as a\npromise that the Redeemer should be of his seed is evident from the\ndeclaration of St. Peter in Acts ii. 30, where he says that \"David\nbeing a prophet, and knowing that God had sworn with an oath to him\nthat of the fruit of his loins he would raise up Messiah to sit on\nhis throne, spake thus concerning him.\"\n\nThe Psalms of David are full of heaving, many-colored clouds and\nmists of poetry, out of which shine here and there glimpses of the\nmystic future. In the second Psalm we have a majestic drama. The\nheathen are raging against Jehovah and his anointed Son. They say,\nLet us break their bands in sunder and cast away their cords. Then\nthe voice of Jehovah is heard in the tumult, saying calmly, \"Yet\nhave I set my king on my holy hill of Zion.\" Then an angelic herald\nproclaims:--\n\n    \"I will declare the decree.\n    The Lord hath spoken:\n    Thou art my Son;\n    This day have I begotten thee:\n    Ask of me and I will give the heathen for thine inheritance,\n    And the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession.\"\n\nThis mighty king, this glorious defender, is celebrated as the\nAll-Loving One. His reign is to be a reign of truth and love. All\nthe dearest forms of human affection are used to shadow forth what\nhe will be to his people. He is to be the royal bridegroom; his\nwilling people the bride. So, in the forty-fifth Psalm, entitled \"A\nSong of Love,\" we have the image of a mighty conqueror--radiant,\nbeloved, adored, a being addressed both as God and the Son of God,\nwho goes forth to victory:--\n\n    \"Thou art fairer than the children of men.\n    Grace is poured into thy lips.\n    Therefore God hath blessed thee forever.\n    Gird thy sword on thy thigh, O most mighty, with thy glory and\n        majesty.\n    And in thy majesty ride prosperously because of thy truth and\n        meekness and righteousness.\n    Thy right hand shall teach thee terrible things.\n    Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever.\n    A sceptre of righteousness is the sceptre of thy kingdom.\n    Thou lovest righteousness and hatest iniquity.\n    Therefore God--thy God--hath anointed thee with the oil of\n        gladness above thy fellows.\"\n\nThen follows a description of the royal bride, the king's daughter,\nwho is all glorious within--her clothing of wrought gold--who with\ngladness and rejoicing shall be brought to the king to become mother\nof princes.\n\nIt is said by some that this is a marriage hymn for the wedding of\na prince. It may have been so originated; but in the mind of the\ndevout Jew every scene and event in life had become significant and\nsymbolical of this greater future. Every deliverer suggested the\ngreater Deliverer; the joy of every marriage suggested the joy of\nthat divine marriage with a heavenly bridegroom.\n\nSo the seventy-second Psalm, written originally for Solomon, expands\ninto language beyond all that can be said of any earthly monarch.\nIt was the last poem of David, and the feelings of the king and\nfather rose and melted into a great tide of imagery that belonged to\nnothing earthly:--\n\n    \"Yea, all kings shall fall down before him;\n    All nations shall serve him.\n    He shall deliver the needy when he crieth;\n    The poor also, and him that hath no helper.\n    He shall spare the poor and needy, and shall save the souls of\n        the needy.\n    He shall redeem their soul from deceit and violence,\n    And precious shall their blood be in his sight.\n    And he shall live, and to him shall be given the gold of Sheba.\n    Prayer also shall be made for him continually, and daily shall he\n        be praised.\n    His name shall endure forever.\n    His name shall be continued as long as the sun.\n    Men shall be blessed in him.\n    All nations shall call him blessed.\"\n\nBut in these same Psalms there are glimpses of a divine sufferer. In\nthe twenty-second Psalm David speaks of sufferings which certainly\nnever happened to himself--which were remarkably fulfilled in the\nlast agonies of Jesus:--\n\n    \"All they that see me laugh me to scorn.\n    They shoot out the lip, they shake the head, saying,\n    He trusted in God that he would deliver him.\n    Let him deliver him, seeing he delighted in him.\n    I am poured out like water; all my bones are out of joint.\n    My heart is like wax--it is melted in my bosom.\n    My strength is dried up like a potsherd.\n    My tongue cleaveth to my mouth.\n    Thou hast brought me into the dust of death.\n    For dogs have compassed me,\n    The assembly of the wicked have inclosed me;\n    They pierced my hands and my feet.\n    I may tell all my bones. They look and stare on me.\n    They part my garments among them\n    And cast lots for my vesture.\"\n\nIn this Psalm, written more than a thousand years before he came\ninto the world, our Lord beheld ever before him the scenes of his\nown crucifixion; he could see the heartless stare of idle, malignant\ncuriosity around his cross; he could hear the very words of the\ntaunts and revilings, and a part of the language of this Psalm was\namong his last utterances. While the shadows of the great darkness\nwere gathering around his cross he cried, \"My God, my God, why\nhast thou forsaken me?\" It would seem as if the words so bitterly\nfulfilled passed through his mind, as one by one the agonies and\nindignities followed each other, till at last he bowed his head and\nsaid, \"It is finished.\"\n\nAs time rolled on, this mingled chant of triumph and of suffering\nswelled clearer and plainer. In the grand soul of Isaiah, the\nMessiah and his kingdom were ever the outcome of every event that\nsuggested itself. When the kingdom of Judah was threatened by\nforeign invasion, the prophet breaks out with the promise of a\nDeliverer:--\n\n     \"Behold, the Lord himself shall give you a sign. Behold, a\n     virgin shall conceive and bring forth a son and shall call his\n     name Immanuel [God with us].\"\n\nAgain he bursts forth as if he beheld the triumph as a present\nreality:--\n\n    \"Unto us a child is born\n    Unto us a son is given.\n    The government shall be upon his shoulders.\n    His name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor,\n    Mighty God,\n    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.\n    Of the increase of his government and of peace there shall be no end,\n    Upon the throne of David and his kingdom,\n    To establish it with justice from henceforth and forever.\n    The zeal of the Lord of Hosts will perform this.\"\n\nAgain, a few chapters further on, he sings:--\n\n    \"There shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse\n    A Branch shall grow out of his roots.\n    The Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him;\n    The spirit of wisdom and understanding,\n    The spirit of counsel and might,\n      The spirit of knowledge, and fear of the Lord.\n    With righteousness shall he judge the poor,\n    And reprove with equity for the meek of the earth.\"\n\nThen follow vivid pictures of a golden age on earth, beneath his\nsway, when all enmities and ferocities even of the inferior animals\nshall cease, and universal love and joy pervade the earth.\n\nIn the fifty-third of Isaiah we have again the sable thread\nof humiliation and sorrow; the Messiah is to be \"despised and\nrejected of men;\" his nation \"hide their faces from him;\" he \"bears\ntheir griefs, and carries their sorrows,\" is \"wounded for their\ntransgressions,\" is \"brought as a lamb to the slaughter,\" is \"dumb\nbefore his accusers,\" is \"taken from prison to judgment,\" is \"cut\noff out of the land of the living,\" \"makes his grave with the wicked\nand with the rich in his death,\" and thence is \"raised again to an\nendless kingdom.\"\n\nThus far the tide of prophecy had rolled; thus distinct and luminous\nhad grown the conception of a future suffering, victorious Lord and\nleader, when the Jewish nation, for its sins and unfaithfulness, was\nsuffered to go to wreck. The temple was destroyed and the nation\nswept into captivity in a foreign land.\n\nBut they carried everywhere with them the vision of their future\nMessiah. In their captivity and sufferings their religious feelings\nbecame intense, and, wherever they were, the Jews were always\npowerful and influential men. Daniel, by his divine skill in\nspiritual insight, became the chief of the Chaldean magi, and his\nteachings with regard to the future Messiah may be traced in those\npassages of the Zendavesta which predict his coming, his universal\ndominion, and the resurrection of the dead. Everywhere through all\nnations this scattered seed of the Jews touched the spark of desire\nand aspiration--the longing for a future Redeemer.\n\nIn the prophecies of Daniel we find the predictions of the Messiah\nassuming the clearness of forewritten history. The successive\nempires of the world are imaged under the symbol of a human\nbody, with a head of gold, a breast of silver, body and thighs\nof brass, legs and feet of iron. By these types were indicated\nthe Babylonian, Medo-Persian, Greek and Roman nations, with their\nsuccessive rule. In prophetic vision, also, a stone was without\nhands cut out of the mountains, and it smote the feet of the\nimage, so that the whole of it passed away like the chaff of the\nthreshing-floor.\n\nHow striking this description of that invisible, spiritual force\nwhich struck the world in the time of the Roman empire, and before\nwhich all the ancient dynasties have vanished!\n\nIn the ninth chapter of Daniel, verses 25, 26, 27, we find given\nthe exact time of the coming of the Messiah, of his death, of the\nsubsequent destruction of Jerusalem by the Romans, and the cessation\nof the Jewish worship and sacrifices. Remembering that Daniel\nwas the head of the Chaldean magi, we see how it is that their\ndescendants were able to calculate the time of the birth of Christ\nand come to worship him.[2]\n\n  [2] M. Lenormant says in _The Magic of the Chaldees_: \"The more one\n  advances in the understanding of the cuneiform text, the more one\n  sees the necessity of revising the condemnation too prematurely\n  uttered against the Book of Daniel by the German Exegetical School.\n  Without doubt, the use of certain Greek words serves to show that\n  it has passed through the hands of some editor since the time\n  of Alexander. But the substance of it is much more ancient--is\n  imprinted with a perfectly distinct Babylonian tinge, and the\n  picture of life in the court of Nabuchodonosor and his successors\n  has an equal truthfulness which could not have been attained at a\n  later period.\"\n\nAt length the Jews were recalled from captivity and the temple\nrebuilt. While it was rebuilding prophets encouraged the work with\nprophecies of the Lord who should appear in it. The prophet Haggai\n(ii. 3-9) thus speaks to those who depreciate the new temple by\ncomparing it with the old:--\n\n     \"Who is left among you that saw this house in her first glory?\n     Yet now be strong, all ye people of the land, and work, for I am\n     with you, saith the Lord of Hosts. For thus saith the Lord: Yet\n     a little while and I will shake the heavens and earth, the sea\n     and the dry land, and the Desire of all nations shall come, and\n     I will fill this house with glory, saith the Lord. The glory of\n     this latter house shall be greater than of the former, for in\n     this house will I give peace, saith the Lord of Hosts.\"\n\nThe prophecies of Zechariah, which belonged to the same period and\nhad the same object,--to encourage the rebuilding of the second\ntemple,--are full of anticipation of the coming Messiah. The prophet\nbreaks forth into song like a bird of the morning:--\n\n    \"Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion;\n    Shout, O daughter of Jerusalem:\n    Behold, thy king cometh unto thee.\n    He is just and hath salvation;\n    He is lowly, riding upon an ass--\n    Upon a colt, the foal of an ass.\"\n\nAgain he breaks forth in another strain:--\n\n    \"Awake, O sword, against my Shepherd,\n    Against the man that is my fellow, saith the Lord of Hosts.\n    Smite the Shepherd,\n    And the sheep shall be scattered.\"\n\nWe remember that these words were quoted by our Lord to his\ndisciples the night before his execution, when he was going forth\nto meet his murderers. A hundred or so of years later, the prophet\nMalachi says:--\n\n    \"Behold, I send my messenger.\n    He shall prepare the way before me.\n    The Lord whom ye seek shall suddenly come to his temple:\n    Even the messenger of the covenant, in whom ye delight;\n    But who may abide the day of his coming?\n    Who shall stand when He appeareth?\n    For, like a refiner's fire shall He be,\n    And like fullers' soap.\n    He shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.\n    He shall purify the sons of Levi.\"\n\nHow remarkably this prophecy describes the fiery vehemence and\nenergy of our Lord's first visit to the temple, when he drove\nout the money-changers and completely cleansed the holy place of\nunseemly traffic!\n\nWith this prophet the voice of prediction ceases. Let us for a\nmoment look back and trace its course. First, the vague promise of\na Deliverer, born of a woman; then, a designation of the race from\nwhich he is to be born; then of the tribe; then of the family; then\nthe very place of his birth is predicted--Bethlehem-Ephratah being\nmentioned to discriminate it from another Bethlehem. Then come a\nsuccession of pictures of a Being concerning whom the most opposite\nthings are predicted. He is to be honored, adored, beloved; he is\nto be despised and rejected--his nation hide their faces from him.\nHe is to be terrible and severe as a refiner's fire; he is to be\nso gentle that a bruised reed shall he not break, and smoking flax\nshall he not quench. He is to be seized and carried from prison to\njudgment; he is surrounded by the wicked; his hands and feet are\npierced, his garments divided; they cast lots for his vesture; he\nis united by his death both with the wicked and with the rich; he\nis cut off from the land of the living. He is cut off, but not for\nhimself; his kingdom is to be an everlasting kingdom; he is to have\ndominion from sea to sea, and of the increase of his government and\nof peace there is to be no end.\n\nHow strange that for ages these conflicting and apparently\ncontradictory oracles had been accumulating, until finally came One\nwho fulfilled them all. Is not this indeed the Christ--the Son of\nGod?\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE CRADLE OF BETHLEHEM\n\n\nWe should have supposed that when the time came for the entrance\nof the great Hero upon the stage of this world, magnificent\npreparations would be made to receive him. A nation had been called\nand separated from all tribes of earth that he might be born of\nthem, and it had been their one special mission to prepare for the\ncoming of this One, their Head and King, in whom the whole of their\norganization--laws, teachings, and prophecies--was to be fulfilled.\nChrist was the end for which the tabernacle was erected and the\ntemple built, for whom were the Holy of Holies, the altars, and the\nsacrifices. He was the Coming One for whom priests and prophets had\nbeen for hundreds of years looking.\n\nWhat should we have expected of divine wisdom when the glorious hour\napproached? We should have thought that the news would be sent to\nthe leaders of the great national council of the Sanhedrim, to the\nHigh Priest and elders, that their Prince was at hand. Doubtless we\nshould suppose that the nation, apprised of his coming, would have\nmade ready his palace and have been watching at its door to do honor\nto their newborn King.\n\nFar otherwise is the story as we have it.\n\nIn the poorest, most sordid, most despised village of Jud\u00e6a dwelt,\nunknown and neglected, two members of the decayed and dethroned\nroyal family of Jud\u00e6a,--Joseph the carpenter and Mary his betrothed.\nThough every circumstance of the story shows the poverty of these\nindividuals, yet they were not peasants. They were of royal lineage,\nreduced to the poverty and the simple life of the peasants. The\nJews, intensely national, cherished the tradition of David their\nwarrior and poet prince; they sang his Psalms, they dwelt on his\nmemory, and those persons, however poor and obscure, who knew that\nthey had his blood in their veins were not likely to forget it.\n\nThere have been times in the history of Europe when royal princes,\nthe heirs of thrones, have sojourned in poverty and obscurity,\nearning their bread by the labor of their hands. But the\nconsciousness of royal blood and noble birth gave to them a secret\nlargeness of view and nobility of feeling which distinguished them\nfrom common citizens.\n\nThe Song of Mary given in St. Luke shows the tone of her mind; shows\nher a woman steeped in the prophetic spirit and traditions, in the\nPsalms of her great ancestor, and herself possessing a lofty poetic\nnature.\n\nWe have the story of the birth of Christ in only two of the\nEvangelists. In Matthew we have all the facts and incidents such as\nmust have been derived from Joseph, and in Luke we have those which\ncould only have been told by Mary. She it is who must have related\nto St. Luke the visit of the angel and his salutation to her. She it\nis who tells of the state of her mind when those solemn mysterious\nwords first fell upon her ear:--\n\n     \"Hail thou, highly favored! The Lord is with thee: Blessed art\n     thou among women!\"\n\nIt is added,--\n\n     \"And when she saw him she was troubled and cast about in her\n     mind what manner of salutation this should be.\"\n\nOnly Mary could have told the interior state of her mind, the\ndoubts, the troubles, the mental inquiries, known only to herself.\nThe rest of the interview, the magnificent and solemn words of the\nangel, in the nature of things could have come to the historian only\nthrough Mary's narrative.\n\n     \"Thou shalt conceive and bring forth a Son and shalt call his\n     name Jesus. He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of\n     the Highest, and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of\n     his father David, and he shall reign over the house of Jacob\n     forever, and of his kingdom there shall be no end.\"\n\nIn St. Matthew we have the history of the hesitation of Joseph, his\nmanly delicacy and tenderness for his betrothed wife, and the divine\nmessage to him in a dream; all of which are things that could have\nbeen known only through his own narration.\n\nWe find also in this history, whose facts must have come from\nJoseph, a table of genealogy tracing his descent back to David,\nwhile in the account given by Mary in St. Luke there is another and\ndifferent table of genealogy. The probable inference on the face of\nit would be that the one is the genealogy of Joseph and the other\nof Mary; and it confirms this supposition to find that she was\nspoken of in Rabbinic writings of an early period as the daughter\nof Heli,[3] who concludes the genealogy given in Luke, and on this\nsupposition would be the father of Mary and grandfather of Jesus.\nMoreover, as the angel himself in announcing the birth of Christ\nlaid special stress upon the fact that his mother was of the house\nof David, it is quite probable that the genealogy which proved that\ndescent was very precious in Mary's eyes, and that this is therefore\nimbedded in the account which St. Luke derives from her, as the very\nchief treasure of her life. That genealogical record was probably\nthe one hoarded gem of her poverty and neglect--like a crown jewel\nconcealed in the humble cottage of an exiled queen.\n\n  [3] Lightfoot, in his notes on Luke iii., maintains this theory, and\n  quotes in support of it three passages from the Jerusalem Talmud,\n  folio 77, 4, where Mary the mother of Jesus is denounced as the\n  _daughter of Heli_, and mother of a pretender. The same view is\n  sustained by Paulus, Spanheim, and Lange.\n\nWhen the conviction was brought home to both these hidden souls\nthat their house was to be the recipient of this greatest of all\nhonors, we can easily see how it must have been a treasury of secret\nand wonderful emotions and contemplations between them. A world of\nlofty thought and feeling from that hour belonged to those two of\nall the world, separating them far as heaven is above the earth from\nthe sordid neighborhood of Nazareth. Every tie which connected them\nwith the royal house of David must have been wakened to intense\nvitality. All the prophecies with regard to the future Messiah must\nhave blazed with a new radiance in the firmament of their thoughts.\nThe decree from C\u00e6sar that all the world should be taxed, and the\nconsequent movement towards a census of the Jewish nation, must have\nseemed to them a divine call and intimation to leave the village of\nNazareth and go to their ancestral town, where prophecy had told\nthem that the Messiah was to be born:--\n\n     \"And thou Bethlehem-Ephratah, though thou be little among the\n     thousands of Judah, yet out of thee shall come a Governor which\n     shall rule my people Israel, whose goings forth have been from\n     of old, from everlasting.\"\n\nOn this magnificent mystery were these two poor, obscure, simple\npeople pondering in their hearts as they took their journey over\nthe picturesque hill-country towards the beautiful little town of\nBethlehem, the village of their fathers; Bethlehem, the city of the\nloving Ruth, and her descendant, the chivalrous poet king, David.\n\nIt seems they went there poor and without acquaintance, casting\nthemselves in simple faith on the protection of God. The\ncaravanserai of those days bore more resemblance to camping-huts\nthan anything suggested by our modern inn. There was a raised\nplatform which gave to the traveler simply space to spread his bed\nand lie down, while below this was the portion allotted to the\nfeeding and accommodation of the animals.\n\nWhen these two guests arrived the space allotted to travelers was\nall taken up, and a shelter had to be arranged in the part allotted\nto the animals. We are so accustomed to look at that cradle in\nBethlehem through the mists of reverential tradition that we have\nceased to realize what a trial and humiliation it was to these\nchildren of a royal race to find themselves outcasts and homeless\nin the city of their fathers--in the very hour when home and its\ncomfort were most needed. We must remember they had to live by faith\nas well as we. Though an angel had announced this coming child as\nthe King of Israel, still their faith must have been severely tried\nto find themselves, as the hour of his birth approached, unwelcomed,\nforlorn, and rejected by men, in the very city of David.\n\nThe census in which they came to have their names enrolled was the\nlast step in the humiliation of their nation; it was the preparation\nfor their subjugation and taxation as a conquered tribe under the\nRoman yoke: and they, children of the royal house of David, were\nleft to touch the very lowest descent of humiliation, outcasts from\namong men, glad to find a resting-place with the beasts of the stall.\n\nChrist is called the Morning Star, and truly he rose in the very\ndarkest hour of the night. The Friend of the outcast, the Care-taker\nof the neglected, the poor man's Helper, must needs be born thus.\n\nBut was there no message? Yes. In those very hills and valleys of\nBethlehem where David kept his father's sheep were still shepherds\nabiding. The Psalms of David were there the familiar melodies; they\nlived by the valley and hill, as when he sang of old,--\n\n    \"The Lord is my Shepherd;\n    I shall not want.\n    He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;\n    He leadeth me beside the still waters.\"\n\nThese shepherds probably were poor men of a devout and simple faith,\nmen who longed and prayed and waited for the consolation of Israel.\nTheir daily toil was ennobled by religious associations. Jehovah\nhimself was addressed as the\n\n    \"Shepherd of Israel;\n    He that leadeth Joseph like a flock;\n    He that dwelleth between the cherubims.\"\n\nIt was to such souls as these, patient, laborious, prayerful, that\nthe message came; that the Good Shepherd--the Shepherd and Bishop\nof Souls--was born. No comment can brighten or increase the solemn\nbeauty of those simple words in which this story is told:--\n\n     \"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the\n     field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the\n     angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord\n     shone round about them; and they were afraid. And the angel said\n     unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of\n     joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day\n     in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And\n     this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in\n     swaddling-clothes, lying in a manger.\n\n     \"And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the\n     heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the\n     highest, and on earth Peace, Good-will toward men.\n\n     \"And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them\n     into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now\n     go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to\n     pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. And they came\n     with haste, and found Mary and Joseph, and the babe lying in a\n     manger. And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the\n     saying which was told them concerning this child. And all they\n     that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by\n     the shepherds. But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them\n     in her heart.\n\n     \"And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all\n     the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto\n     them.\"\n\nThey received the reward of faith; having heard the heavenly\nmessage, they believed and acted upon it. They did not stop to\nquestion or reason about it. They did not say, \"How can this be?\"\nbut \"Let us go even unto Bethlehem and see this thing which is\ncome to pass.\" And so it was that they were rewarded by seeing and\nhearing the wonders \"as it was told unto them.\"\n\nThe visit of these simple, confiding souls doubtless cheered the\npatient hearts of the humble outcasts, and strengthened their faith.\n\nIf now it be asked, Why was all this so? we have only to answer that\nheaven is a very different world from our earth, and that heavenly\nways of viewing people and things are wholly above those of earth.\nThe apostle says that the foolishness of God is wiser than man, and\nthe weakness of God is stronger than man; that the things that are\nhighly esteemed among men are abominations in the sight of God.\n\nWhen a new king and a new kingdom were to be set up on earth, no\npomp of man, no palace made with hands, was held worthy of him; few\nwere the human hearts deemed worthy of the message, and these were\npeople that the world knew not of--simple-minded, sincere, loving,\nprayerful people.\n\nThe priests and scribes were full of national pride and bitterness,\nburning for revenge on the Romans, longing for conquest and power.\nThey were impatiently waiting for the Leader whose foot should be on\nthe necks of their enemies. They had no sense of sin, no longing for\nholiness, no aspirations for a Spiritual Deliverer; and therefore no\nmessage was sent to them.\n\nBut to the simple-minded Joseph the angel said, \"Thou shalt call his\nname Jesus (Saviour) for he shall save his people from their sins.\"\nNot from the Romans but from their sins he came to save, and the\nmessage of his coming was to humble souls, who wanted this kind of\nsalvation.\n\nBut there was a fitness furthermore in these circumstances. Up to\nthis time the poor and the unfortunate had been the despised of the\nearth. It had been predicted again and again that the Messiah should\nbe the especial Friend of the poor:--\n\n    \"He shall deliver the needy when he crieth,\n    The poor and him that hath no helper.\n    He shall spare the soul of the needy,\n    And precious shall their blood be in his sight.\"\n\nAs a mother when seeking a lost and helpless child, outcast in some\nden of misery, would pass by palaces and refuse the shelter of\nluxurious roofs, to share the poverty of her beloved, so the poor\nman's Friend and Lord chose to come in the hut and the stable rather\nthan in the palace, that he might be known forever as the God of the\npoor, the Patron of the neglected, and the Shepherd of the lost.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE BLESSED WOMAN\n\n\nThere was one woman whom the voice of a divine Messenger, straight\nfrom heaven, pronounced highly favored. In what did this favor\nconsist?\n\nOf noble birth, of even royal lineage, she had fallen into poverty\nand obscurity. The great, brilliant, living world of her day knew\nher as the rushing equipages and palatial mansions of our great\ncities know the daughters of poor mechanics in rural towns.\n\nThere was plenty of splendor, and rank, and fashion in Jerusalem\nthen. Herod the Great was a man of cultivation and letters,\nand beautified the temple with all sorts of architectural\nembellishments; and there were High Priests, and Levites, and a\ngreat religious aristocracy circling about its precincts, all of\nwhom, if they thought of any woman as highly favored of heaven,\nwould have been likely to think of somebody quite other than the\nsimple country girl of Nazareth. Such an one as she was not in all\ntheir thoughts. Yet she was _the_ highly favored woman of the world;\nthe crowned queen of women; the One whose lot--above that of all\nthat have lived woman's life, before or since--was blessed.\n\nThe views adopted in the Roman Church with respect to this one Woman\nof women have tended to deprive the rest of the world of a great\nsource of comfort and edification by reason of the opposite extreme\nto which Protestant reaction has naturally gone.\n\nJohn Knox was once taken on board a ship manned, as he says, by\nPopish sailors, who gave into his hand an image of the Virgin Mary\nand wanted to compel him to kiss it. Stout John tossed it overboard,\nsaying, \"Let our Lady now save herself; she is light enough, let her\nlearn to swim.\" To have honored the Virgin Mary, even in thought,\nwas shrunk from by the Protestants of those times as an approach to\nidolatry. An image or a picture of her in a Puritan house would have\nbeen considered an approach to the sin of Achan. Truth has always\nhad the fate of the shuttlecock between the conflicting battledoors\nof controversy.\n\nThis is no goddess crowned with stars, but something nobler, purer,\nfairer, more appreciable--the One highly favored and blessed among\nWomen.\n\nThe happiness of Mary's lot was peculiar to womanhood. It lay mostly\nin the sphere of family affection. Mary had in this respect a lot\nwhose blessedness was above every other mother. She had as her child\nthe loveliest character that ever unfolded through childhood and\nyouth to manhood. He was entirely her own. She had a security in\npossessing him such as is not accorded to other mothers. She knew\nthat the child she adored was not to die till he had reached man's\nestate--she had no fear that accident, or sickness, or any of those\nthreatening causes which give sad hours to so many other mothers,\nwould come between him and her.\n\nNeither was she called to separate from him. The record shows that\nhe was with his parents until their journey to Jerusalem, when he\nwas twelve years old; and then, after his brief absence of three\ndays when he was left behind, and found in the temple disputing with\nthe doctors, we are told that \"he went down to Nazareth and was\nsubject unto them.\"\n\nThese words are all that cover eighteen years of the purest\nhappiness ever given to mortal woman. To love, to adore, to possess\nthe beloved object in perfect security, guarded by a divine\npromise--this blessedness was given to but one woman of all the\nhuman race. That peaceful home in Nazareth, overlooked by all the\ngreat, gay world, how many happy hours it had! Day succeeded day,\nweeks went to months, and months into years, and this is all the\nrecord: \"Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature, and in favor with\nGod and man.\"\n\nLooking at Jesus as a mere human being, a historical character, as\nsome do, the one great peculiarity of him is the intensity of the\npersonal affection he has been able to inspire. The Apostles give\nhim one title which was his above all the other children of men,\n\"THE BELOVED.\" Christ has been and now is beloved, as no other human\nbeing ever was. Others have been good men,--true men, benefactors\nof their race,--but when they died their personality faded from the\nearth.\n\nTell a Hottentot or a Zulu the story of Socrates, and it excites\nno very deep emotion; but, for eighteen hundred years, Hottentots,\nZulus, South Sea Islanders and savages, Greenlanders,--men, women,\nand children in every land, with every variety of constitutional\nhabit,--have conceived such an ardent, passionate, personal love\nto Jesus of Nazareth that they have been ready to face torture and\ndeath for his sake.\n\n\"It is not for me to covet things visible or invisible,\" said\nPolycarp, on his way to martyrdom, \"if only I may obtain Jesus\nChrist. The fire, the cross, the rush of wild beasts, the tearing\nasunder of bones, the fracture of limbs, and the grinding to powder\nof the whole body, let these, the devil's torments, come upon me,\nprovided only that I obtain Jesus Christ.\"\n\nSo felt the Christians of the first ages, and time does not cool\nthe ardor. There are at this present hour hundreds of thousands of\nobscure men and women, humble artisans, ignorant negroes, to whom\nChrist is dearer than life, and who would be capable of just this\ngrand devotion. It is not many years since that in the Island of\nMadagascar Christian converts were persecuted, and there were those\nwho met death for Christ's sake with all the triumphant fervor of\nprimitive ages. Jesus has been the one man of whom it has been\npossible to say to people of all nations, ages, and languages, \"Whom\nhaving not seen ye love, and in whom, though now ye see him not, yet\nbelieving, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.\"\n\nIf we should embody our idea of the Son with whom Mary lived in\nsecure intimacy for thirty years, we should call him Love, itself.\nHe was not merely lovely, but he was love. He had a warming,\ncreative power as to love. He gave birth to new conceptions of love;\nto a fervor, a devotion, a tenderness, of which before the human\nsoul scarcely knew its own capacity.\n\nNapoleon asserted the divinity of Jesus from the sole fact of his\nwonderful power of producing love. \"I know men,\" he said, \"and\nI know Jesus was not a man;--eighteen hundred years ago he died\ndefeated, reviled, and yet at this hour there are thousands all over\nthe world who would die for him. I am defeated and overthrown, and\nwho cares for me now? Who fights, who conquers for me? What an abyss\nbetween my misery and the triumph of Jesus!\"\n\nThe blessedness of Mary was that she was the one human being who had\nthe right of ownership and intimate oneness with the Beloved. For\nthirty years Jesus had only the task of living an average, quiet,\nordinary human life. He was a humble artisan, peacefully working\ndaily for the support of his mother. He was called from her by no\npublic duty; he was hers alone. When he began his public career he\ntranscended these limits. Then he declared that every soul that\nheard the will of God, and did it, should be to him as his mother--a\ndeclaration at which every Christian should veil his face in awe and\ngratitude.\n\nWe may imagine the peace, the joy, the serenity of that household of\nwhich Jesus was the centre. He read and explained the Scriptures,\nand he prayed with them, in such blessed words as those that are\nrecorded in St. John's Gospel. In this life of simplicity and\npoverty he taught them that sweet and sacred secret of a peaceful\ndaily looking to God for food and raiment that can be learned only\nby the poor and dependent. He made labor holy by choosing it as his\nlot.\n\nMany little incidents in Christ's life show the man of careful\ndomestic habits. He was in all things methodical and frugal. The\nmiraculous power he possessed never was used to surround him with\nany profusion. He would have the fragments of the feast picked\nup and stored in the baskets, \"that nothing should be lost.\" His\nillustrations show the habits of a frugal home. His parable of the\nkingdom of heaven, likened to the leaven hidden in three measures\nof meal, gives us to believe that doubtless he had often watched\nhis mother in the homely process of bread-making. The woman,\nwho, losing one piece of money from her little store, lights a\ncandle and searches diligently, brings to our mind the dwelling of\nthe poor where every penny has its value. His illustrations from\nhusbandry--ploughing, sowing, growing, the lost sheep, the ox fallen\ninto the pit, the hen and her chickens--all show a familiarity and\na kind sympathy with the daily habits and life interests of the\npoor. Many little touches indicate, also, the personal refinement\nand delicacy of his habits, the order and purity that extended to\nall his ways. While he repressed self-indulgence and the profusion\nof extravagant luxury, he felt keenly and justified bravely that\nprofusion of the heart that delights in costliness as an expression\nof love.\n\nThere seems to be reason to think that the retirement and stillness\nof the peasant life in Nazareth, its deeply hidden character, was\npeculiarly suited to the constitutional taste both of Jesus and his\nmother.\n\nMary seems, from the little we see of her, to have been one of those\nsilent, brooding women who seek solitude and meditation, whose\nthoughts are expressed only confidentially to congenial natures.\nThere is every evidence that our Lord's individual and human nature\nwas in this respect peculiarly sympathetic with that of his mother.\nThe prophecy of Isaiah predicts this trait of his character:\n\"He shall not cry, nor lift up, nor cause his voice to be heard\nin the street.\" In the commencement of his ministry we find the\nsame avoidance of publicity. He hushed the zeal of his disciples.\nHe wrought miracles with injunctions of secrecy--\"See thou tell\nno man.\" The rush of sensational popularity seemed especially\ndistasteful to him, and we find him after a little retiring from it.\n\"Come ye with me into a desert place and rest awhile,\" he says to\nhis disciples, \"for there were so many coming and going that they\nfound no leisure so much as to eat.\"\n\nThus, the retirement of the Garden of Gethsemane--where it is said\nJesus ofttimes resorted with his disciples--and the quietude of\nthe family of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus at Bethany, seemed to be\nespecially attractive to him. Indeed, so great a desire had he for\nquiet and peace, and for the calm of that congenial thought and\ncommunion that can be had with but a few, that his public life must\nbe regarded as a constant act of self-abnegation. It was as foreign\nto him to be out in the hot glare and dust of publicity, and to\nbattle in the crowded ways of life, as to the most gentle woman.\nDivine Love was ever, in this bustling, noisy, vulgar, outward life,\nlonely, and a stranger. \"He was in the world,\" says St. John, \"and\nthe world was made by him, but the world knew him not.\"\n\nThere was one woman of all women to whom it was given to know him\nperfectly, entirely, intimately--to whom his nature was knit in the\nclosest possible union and identity. He was bone of her bone and\nflesh of her flesh--his life grew out of her immortal nature. We are\nled to see in our Lord a peculiarity as to the manner of his birth\nwhich made him more purely sympathetic with his mother than any\nother son of woman. He had no mortal father. All that was human in\nhim was her nature; it was the union of the divine nature with the\nnature of a pure woman. Hence there was in Jesus more of the pure\nfeminine element than in any other man. It was the feminine element\nexalted and taken in union with divinity. Robertson has a very\ninteresting sermon on this point, showing how the existence of this\nfeminine element in the character of Jesus supplies all that want in\nthe human heart to which it has been said the worship of the Virgin\nMother was adapted. Christ, through his intimate relationship with\nthis one highly favored among women, had the knowledge of all that\nthe heart of man or woman can seek for its needs.\n\nThere is in the sacred narrative a reticence in regard to the\nmother of Jesus which would seem to bear very significantly upon\nany theories of their mutual relations, and especially upon their\npresent connection in spiritual matters--the idea that Mary, as\nMother of God, retains in heaven authority over her son, and that\nhe can deny her nothing. St. John takes care to state specifically\nthe scene in Cana of Galilee where Jesus informs his mother that, in\nhis divine relations and duties, her motherly relation has no place.\n\"Woman, what have I to do with thee? mine hour is not yet come.\"\n\nThe address, though not in the connection wanting in respect, or so\nabrupt as it appears in the translation, was still very decided,\nand was undoubtedly one of those declarations meant not only for\nher but for mankind. In the same spirit are his words where, in his\npublic ministration, word was brought to him that his mother and his\nbrethren stood without, desiring to see him:--\n\n     \"Who is my mother, and who are my brethren? And he looked around\n     on them that sat about him, and said, Behold my mother and my\n     brethren. For whosoever shall do the will of God, the same is my\n     brother and sister and mother.\"\n\nFrom that noble utterance, the Song of Mary,--retained by the church\nas a Magnificat,--there is evidence of a soul not only exalted by\ngenius and enthusiasm, but steeped in the traditions of ancient\nprophecy. It is so like the Psalms of David that a verse of it,\nif read out casually, might seem to be taken from them. There\nis no doubt that a soul like this, when possessed of the great\nsecret of prophecy, devoted itself with ardor to all in the Hebrew\nScriptures which foreshadowed her son's career. She was the first\nteacher of the child Jesus in the Law and the Prophets. One of\nRaphael's most beautiful conceptions of her represents her sitting\nthoughtfully, holding the hand of the infant Jesus, while the roll\nof the prophecies lies in her lap, and her eyes are fixed on the\ndistance as in deep thought. There is a similar picture of her by\nPalma Vecchio. The communings of Christ and his mother on these\nsubjects must have been so long and so intimate that she more calmly\nand clearly knew exactly whither his life was tending than did his\ndisciples. She had been forewarned in Daniel of the time when the\nMessiah was to be cut off, but not for himself; she understood,\ndoubtless, the deep, hidden meaning of the Psalm that describes the\nlast agonies, the utter abandonment of her son.\n\nThere is in her whole character a singular poise and calmness. When\nthe Angel of the Annunciation appeared to her she was not overcome\nby the presence of a spiritual being as Daniel was, who records that\n\"he fell on his face and there was no strength in him.\" Mary, in\ncalm and firm simplicity, looks the angel in the face, and ponders\nwhat the wonderful announcement may mean. When she finds that it\nreally does mean that she, a poor lonely maiden, is the chosen woman\nof all the human race--the gainer of the crown of which every Jewish\nwoman had dreamed for ages--she is still calm. She does not sink\nunder the honor, she is not confused or overcome, but answers with\ngentle submission, \"Behold the handmaid of the Lord, be it unto me\naccording to his word.\"\n\nYet the words of the Magnificat show a keen sense of the honor and\nfavor done her. She exults in it with an innocent heartiness of\nsimplicity. \"He hath regarded the low estate of his handmaid, for\nfrom henceforth all nations shall call me blessed.\"\n\nIt is remarkable that Mary was never in any one instance associated\nin public work with Jesus. She was not among the women who are\nmentioned as following and ministering unto him. She was, it seems,\nin Jerusalem at the last Passover of our Lord, but it was not\nwith her, or at her table, that he prepared to eat the Passover.\nHe did that as master in his own house, with a family of little\nchildren of his own choosing. Mary was not at the first Eucharistic\nfeast. Undoubtedly there was foreknowledge and divine design in\nall this, and doubtless Jesus and Mary were so completely one in\nwill and purpose that she was of perfect accord with him in all\nthese arrangements. There are souls so perfectly attuned to each\nother, with such an exact understanding and sympathy, that personal\npresence no longer becomes a necessity. They are always with each\nother in spirit, however outwardly separated. But we find her with\nhim once more, openly and visibly, in the hour when all others\nforsook him. The delicacy of woman may cause her to shrink from the\nbustle of public triumph, but when truth and holiness are brought to\npublic scorn she is there to defend, to suffer, to die.\n\nCan we conceive what this mob was, that led Jesus forth to death?\nMobs in our day are brutal, but what were they then? Consider what\nthe times must have been when scourging was an ordinary punishment\nfor criminals, and crucifixion an ordinary mode of execution; what\nwere the sights, the sounds, the exhibitions of brutality among\nwhich Mary and the women friends of Jesus followed him to the cross!\n\nAnd Mary did not faint--did not sink. She did not fall to the earth\nwhen an angel predicted her glory; she did not fall now, when the\nsword had gone through her heart. It is all told in one word, \"Now\nthere _stood_ by the cross of Jesus his mother.\" The last word that\nJesus spoke to any mortal ear was to commend her to his dearest\nfriend.\n\nAfter the resurrection Mary appears once more among the disciples,\nwaiting and praying for a descent of the Holy Ghost--and then in the\nsacred record we hear of her no more.\n\nBut enough is recorded of her to make her forever dear to all\nChristian hearts. That Mary is now with Jesus, that there is an\nintimacy and sympathy between her soul and his such as belong to no\nother created being, seems certain. Nor should we suffer anything to\nprevent that just love and veneration which will enable us to call\nher Blessed, and to look forward to meeting her in heaven as one of\nthe brightest joys of that glorious world.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nTHE HOLY CHILDHOOD\n\n\nIn the first recorded public prayer of the Apostles after the\nresurrection of our Lord he is called \"THY HOLY CHILD JESUS.\"\n\nThe expression is a very beautiful one if we couple it with the\nMaster's declaration that the greatest in the kingdom of heaven is\nthe most like a little child, and that to become as a little child\nis the first step toward fitness for the knowledge of spiritual\nthings.\n\nThere has been in this world one rare flower of Paradise,--a holy\nchildhood growing up gradually into a holy manhood, and always\nretaining in mature life the precious, unstained memories of perfect\ninnocence. The family at Nazareth was evidently a secluded one.\nPersons of such an elevated style of thought as Joseph and Mary,\nconscious of so solemn a destiny and guarding with awe the treasure\nand hope of a world, must have been so altogether different from the\nordinary peasants of Nazareth that there could have been little more\nthan an external acquaintance between them. They were undoubtedly\nloving, gentle, and tender to every one, full of sympathy for\ntrouble and of kind offices in sickness, but they carried within\ntheir hearts a treasury of thoughts, emotions, and hopes, which\ncould not be perceived by those whose spiritual eyes had never been\nopened. It is quite evident from the surprise that the Nazarenes\nmanifested when Christ delivered his first sermon among them that\nthey had never seen anything unusual in the family, and that Christ\nhimself had been living among them only as the carpenter's son.\nThis case is not peculiar. The great artist or poet often grows to\nmanhood without one of his townspeople suspecting who he is, and\nwhat world he lives in. Milton or Raphael might so have grown up\nunknown in a town of obscure fishermen.\n\nThe apocryphal gospels have busied themselves in inventing legends\nof this child-life of Jesus. Nothing so much shows the difference\nbetween the false and the true as these apocryphal gospels compared\nwith the real. Jesus is represented there as a miraculous child,\nusing supernatural power for display among his schoolmates and for\nthe gratification of childish piques and resentments.\n\nThe true gospel gives but one incident of the child-life of Jesus,\nand that just at the time when childhood is verging into youth; for\nthe rest, we are left to conjecture.\n\nWe are told that his infancy was passed in the land of Egypt.\nJesus was the flower of his nation,--he was the blossom of its\nhistory,--and therefore it seemed befitting that his cradle should\nbe where was the cradle of his great forerunner, Moses, on the\nbanks of the Nile. The shadows of the Pyramids, built by the labors\nof his ancestors, were across the land of his childhood, and the\ngreat story of their oppression and deliverance must have filled\nthe thoughts and words of his parents. So imbued was the Jewish\nmind with the habit of seeing in everything in their history the\nprophecy and type of the great Fulfiller, that St. Matthew speaks\nof this exile in Egypt as having occurred that the type might\nfind completeness, and that Israel, in the person of its Head and\nRepresentative, might a second time be called out of Egypt:--\n\n     \"That it might be fulfilled that was spoken of the Lord by the\n     prophet,\n\n     \"Out of Egypt have I called my son.\"\n\nWe do not know with any definiteness the length of this sojourn in\nEgypt, nor how much impression the weird and solemn scenery and\narchitecture of Egypt may have made upon the susceptible mind of\nthe child; but to the parents it must have powerfully and vividly\nrecalled all that ancient and prophetic literature which in every\nstep pointed to their wonderful son. The earliest instructions of\nJesus must have been in this history and literature of his own\nnation--a literature unique, poetic, and sublime. But we have no\ntidings of him till that time in his history when, according to the\ncustoms of his people, he was of age to go up to the great national\nfestival at Jerusalem.\n\nThe young Jewish boy was instructed all the earlier years of his\nlife in view of this great decisive step, which, like confirmation\nin the Christian Church, ranked him as a fully admitted member\nof the house of Israel. It was customary to travel to Jerusalem\nin large companies or caravans, beguiling the way with hymns of\nrejoicing as they drew nigh to the holy city. Jesus, probably, was\none of many boys who for the first time were going up to their great\nnational festival.\n\nOne incident only of this journey is given, but that a very striking\none. After the feast was over, when the caravan was returning,\nthey passed a day's journey on their way without perceiving that\nthe child was not among the travelers. This--in a large company of\nkinsfolk and acquaintance, and where Jesus might have been, as he\nalways afterward seemed to be, a great personal favorite--was quite\npossible. His parents, trusting him wholly, and feeling that he was\nhappy among friends, gave themselves no care till the time of the\nevening encampment. Then, discovering their loss, they immediately\nretraced their steps the next day to Jerusalem, inquiring for him\nvainly among their acquaintances. They at last turned their steps\ntoward the outer courts of the temple, where was the school of the\nlearned Rabbins who explained the law of God. There, seated at their\nfeet, eager and earnest, asking them questions and hearing their\nanswers, the child Jesus had awakened to a new and deeper life, and\nbecome so absorbed as to forget time, place, friends, and everything\nelse in the desire to understand the Holy Word.\n\nIt is a blot upon this beautiful story to speak of Jesus as\n\"disputing\" with the teachers of his nation, or setting himself\nup to instruct them. His position was that of a learner; we are\nnot told that he asserted anything, but that he listened and\nasked questions. The questions of a pure child are often the most\nsearching that can be asked; the questions of the holy child Jesus\nmust have penetrated to the very deepest of divine mysteries. Those\nmasterly discussions of the sayings of the Rabbins, which years\nafter appeared in the Sermon on the Mount, may have sprung from\nseeds thus dropped into the childish mind.\n\nBut, while he is thus absorbed and eager, his soul burning with\nnewly kindled enthusiasm, suddenly his parents, agitated and\ndistressed, lay hold on him with tender reproach: \"Son, why hast\nthou thus dealt with us? Behold, thy father and I have sought thee\nsorrowing.\"\n\nJesus answers, as he so often did in after life, as speaking almost\nunconsciously out of some higher sphere, and in higher language than\nthat of earth: \"How is it that ye sought me? Did ye not know that I\nmust be about my Father's business?\"\n\nIt seemed to say, \"Why be alarmed? is not this my Father's house; is\nnot this study of his law my proper work; and where should I be but\nhere?\"\n\nBut immediately it is added, \"He went down to Nazareth and was\nsubject to them.\" Even Christ pleased not himself; the holiest fire,\nthe divinest passion, was made subject to the heavenly order, and\nimmediately he yielded to the father and mother whom God had made\nhis guides an implicit obedience.\n\nWe have here one glimpse of a consuming ardor, a burning enthusiasm,\nwhich lay repressed and hidden for eighteen years more, till the\nFather called him to speak.\n\nThat simple, natural utterance in the child's mouth--\"My\nFather\"--shows the secret of the holy peace which kept him happy\nin waiting. The Father was a serene presence, an intimate and\ninward joy. In the beautiful solitudes about Nazareth the divine\nbenediction came down upon him:--\n\n    \"I will be as the dew to Israel:\n    He shall grow as the lily,\n    And cast forth his roots as Lebanon.\"\n\nThese two natural symbols seem fittest to portray the elements of\nthat holy childhood which grew to holiest manhood. They give us, as\nits marked characteristics, the shining purity of the lily and the\ngrand strength and stability of the cedars of Lebanon.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nGENTILE PROPHECIES OF CHRIST\n\n     \"Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Jud\u00e6a, in the days of\n     Herod the king, behold there came wise men to Jerusalem, saying,\n     Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his\n     star in the east, and are come to worship him.\"\n\n\nWas the Messiah to be the King of the Jews alone? No; he was for the\nworld; he was the Good Shepherd of nations, and declared that he\nhad \"other sheep, not of this fold.\"\n\nIt seems to be most striking that, in the poetical and beautiful\naccount of the birth of Jesus, there is record of two distinct\nclasses who come to pay him homage--not only the simple-minded and\ndevout laboring people of the Jews, but also the learned sages of\nthe Gentiles.\n\nThere are constant intimations throughout the Old Testament that\nGod's choice of the Jews was no favoritism; that he had not\nforgotten other races, but was still the God and Father of mankind;\nand that he chose Israel not to aggrandize one people, but to make\nthat people his gift-bearers to the whole world.\n\nThere are distinct evidences in the Old Testament that the coming\nSaviour was caring for others beside the Jewish race. Witness\nhis gracious promise to the slave Hagar that he would bless her\ndescendants. In the very family line from which Messiah was to be\nborn a loving and lovely Moabite woman was suffered to be introduced\nas the near ancestress of King David, and the name of the Gentile\nRuth stands in the genealogy of Jesus as a sort of intimation that\nhe belonged not to a race but to the world. In a remarkable passage\nof Isaiah (xliv. 28, xlv. 1, 4, 5) Jehovah, proclaiming his supreme\npower, declares himself to be He\n\n    \"That saith of Cyrus--\n    He is my shepherd,\n    He shall perform all my pleasure.\n    Even saying to Jerusalem, Thou shalt be built;\n    And to the Temple, Thy foundations shall be laid.\n    Thus saith the Lord to his anointed,\n    To Cyrus, whose right hand I have holden.\n\n      .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .\n\n    For Jacob my servant's sake,\n    For Israel mine elect,\n    I have called thee by my name:\n    I have surnamed thee, _though thou hast not known me_.\n    I am the Lord, and there is none else, there is no God beside me:\n    I girded thee, though thou hast not known me.\"\n\nThe Babylonian captivity answered other purposes beside the\npunishment and restoration of the Jewish nation to the worship of\nthe true God. It was a sort of prophetic \"Epiphany,\" in which the\nMessianic aspirations of the Jews fell outside of their own nation,\nlike sparks of fire on those longings which were common to the human\nrace. Even the Jewish prophet spoke of the Messiah as \"The Desire of\nall Nations.\"\n\nAnd this desire and the hope of its fulfillment were burning\nfervently in the souls of all the best of the Gentile nations; for\nnot among the Jews alone, but among all the main races and peoples\nof antiquity, have there been prophecies and traditions more or less\nclear of a Being who should redeem the race of man from the power of\nevil and bring in an era of peace and love.\n\nThe yearning, suffering heart of humanity formed to itself such\na conception out of its own sense of need. Poor helpless man\nfelt himself an abandoned child, without a Father, in a scene of\nwarring and contending forces. The mighty, mysterious, terrible God\nof nature was a being that he could not understand, felt unable\nto question. Job in his hour of anguish expressed the universal\nlonging:--\n\n     \"Oh that I knew where I might find him! I would come even to his\n     seat, I would order my cause before him, I would fill my mouth\n     with arguments. Would he plead against me with his great power?\n     Nay, but he would put strength in me.\"\n\nAnd again:--\n\n     \"He is not a man as I am that I should answer him, and that we\n     should come together in judgment. Neither is there any daysman\n     that might lay his hand on both of us.\"\n\nIt was for this Mediator, both divine and human, who should\ninterpret the silence of God to man, who should be his Word to his\ncreatures, that all humanity was sighing. Therefore it was that the\nfirst vague promise was a seed of hope, not only in the Jewish race,\nbut in all other nations of the earth.\n\nOne of the earliest and most beautiful prophecies of the coming\nMessiah is from the heathen astrologer, Balaam:--\n\n    \"Balaam the son of Beor saith,\n    The man whose eyes are open, saith,\n    He which heard the word of God\n    And knew the knowledge of the Most High,\n    Which saw the vision of the Almighty,\n    Falling into a trance and having his eyes open:\n    I shall see HIM, but not now.\n    I shall behold HIM, but not nigh.\n    There shall come a STAR out of Jacob,\n    A sceptre shall rise out of Israel.\n    Out of Jacob shall come HE that shall have dominion!\"\n\nOf late there has been discovered in Nineveh a large work on the\nsystem of magic of the Chaldee soothsayers, written on tiles of\nbaked clay, in the \"arrow-head\" characters. Here we have a minute\naccount, of the Chaldeans--the astrologers and the sorcerers\nspoken of in Daniel--with specimens of their liturgic forms and\ninvocations. M. Lenormant, who has issued a minute account of this\nwork with translations of many parts of it, gives an interesting\naccount of the religious ideas of the Chaldees in the very earliest\nperiod of antiquity, as old or older than that of the soothsayer\nBalaam.\n\nHe says the supreme divinity, whom they called EA, was regarded as\ntoo remote and too vast to be approached by human prayer, and that\nhe was to be known only through the medium of another divinity,\nhis first-begotten Son, to whom is given a name signifying the\nBenefactor of Man. The prayers and ascriptions to this divinity\nremind us of the Old Testament addresses to the Messiah. The Hebrew\npoet says:--\n\n    \"Of old hast thou laid the foundations of the earth,\n    And the heavens are the work of thy hands.\"\n\nThe ancient invocation upon the tiles of Nineveh addressed to the\nMediator runs thus:--\n\n    \"Great Lord of earth! King of all lands,\n    First-begotten Son of Ea,\n    Director of heaven and earth,\n    Most merciful among the gods,\n    Thou who restorest the dead to life.\"\n\n      .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .\n\nWe see here the reflection of a Being such as the contemporaries of\nAbraham in the land of the Chaldees must have looked forward to--an\nimage of that diffused and general faith which pervaded the world\nin the days when the patriarch was called to be the Father of a\npeculiar people.\n\nIn the Zendavesta--begun about the age of Daniel--also are traces of\nthe same Being, with prophecies of his future appearance on earth to\nrestore the human race to peace and goodness.\n\nIn one of the Zend books we have a passage strikingly like some of\nthe prophetic parts of Daniel. As Nebuchadnezzar saw the future\nhistory of the world under the form of an image, made of four\nprecious metals, so Zoroaster was made to see the same under the\nimage of a tree in which four trunks proceed from a common root. The\nfirst was a golden, the second a silver, the third a steel, and the\nfourth an iron one.\n\nIn the same manner as in Daniel, these trees are interpreted as\nsuccessive monarchies of the earth. The last, the iron one, was to\nbe the dominion of demons and dark powers of evil, and after it was\nto come the SAVIOUR, or SOSIOSCH (a _Zend_ word), who was to bring\nin the restitution of all things from the power of evil, and the\nresurrection of the dead.[4]\n\n  [4] These passages are quoted and commented on by Hilgenfeld on\n  the _Apocalyptic Literature of the Hebrews_, and L\u00fccke on the\n  _Apocalypse of St. John_.\n\nThe same ideas were expressed in the Sibylline oracles. The story\nof the Sibyl who offered her books to Tarquin, in the early days\nof Rome, is known to every child who studies Roman history. From\nthe remains of these writings, still extant, they appear to contain\npredictions of the world's future, much resembling those of Daniel\nand Isaiah. They predict the coming of a Great Deliverer of the\nhuman race, a millennium of righteousness, a resurrection of the\ndead, and a Day of Judgment.\n\nAbout forty years before the birth of Christ, Virgil wrote his\nbeautiful Eclogue of Pollio. The birthplace of Virgil was near the\ntown of Cum\u00e6, where lived the Cum\u00e6an Sibyl, and her traditionary\nhistory and her writings must have deeply impressed his mind.\nPossibly he only thought of them as a poet thinks of a fine theme\nfor the display of poetic imagery; and possibly he may have meant\nto make of this eclogue a complimentary prophecy of some patron\namong the powerful of his times. But when we remember that it\nwas published only about forty years before the birth of Christ,\nand that no other historical character corresponding to this\nprediction ever appeared, it becomes, to say the least, a remarkable\ncoincidence.\n\nBishop Lowth says that the mystery of this eclogue has never been\nsolved, and intimates that he would scarcely dare to express some of\nthe suppositions which it has inspired.\n\nMay not Virgil, like Balaam, have been carried beyond himself in the\ntrance of poetic inspiration, and seen afar the \"Star\" that should\narise out of Israel? He too might have exclaimed:--\n\n    \"I shall see him, but not now.\n    I shall behold him, but not nigh.\"\n\nThe words of Virgil have a fire and fervor such as he seems to have\nhad in no other composition, as he sings:--\n\n    \"The last age of the Cum\u00e6an song is come.\n    The great cycle of ages hastens to a new beginning.\n    Now, too, returns the reign of Justice.\n    The golden age of Saturn now returns.\n    While thou, Pollio, art consul,\n    This glory of our age shall make his appearance.\n    The great months begin to roll.\n    He shall partake of the life of the gods,\n    And rule the peaceful world with his father's virtues.\"\n\nThen follow a profusion of images of peace and plenty that should\ncome to the world in the reign of this hero. All poisonous and\nhurtful things shall die; all rare and beautiful ones shall grow and\nabound; there shall be no more toil, no more trouble. Then, with\na fine burst of imagery, the poet represents the Fates themselves\nas singing, to the whirring music of their spindles, a song of\nwelcome:--\n\n    \"Ye ages, hasten!\n    Dear offspring of the gods, set forward on thy way to highest honors;\n    The time is at hand.\n    See, the world with its round weight bows to thee.\n    To thee bow the earth, the regions of the sea and heaven sublime.\n    See how all things rejoice at the approach of this age!\n    O that my life might last to see and sing thy deeds!\"\n\nThe close of this eclogue has a mysterious tenderness. The poet\npredicts that this sublime personage, for whom the world is waiting,\nshould be born amidst the afflictions of his parents and under a\ncloud of poverty and neglect:--\n\n    \"Come, little boy, and know thy mother with a smile.\n    Come, little boy, on whom thy parents smile not,\n    Whom no god honors with a table,\n    No goddess with a cradle.\"\n\nIt would seem as if the sensitive soul of Virgil, in the ecstasy of\npoetic inspiration, acquired a vague clairvoyance of that scene at\nBethlehem when there was no room for Joseph and Mary at the inn, and\nthe Heir of all things lay in a manger, outcast and neglected.\n\nNot in Virgil alone, but scattered also here and there through all\nantiquity, do we find vague, half-prophetic aspirations after the\ndivine Teacher who should interpret God to man, console under the\nsorrows of life, and charm away the fears of death. In the Ph\u00e6do,\nwhen Socrates is comforting his sorrowful disciples in view of\nhis approaching death, and setting before them the probabilities\nof a continued life beyond the grave, one of them tells him that\nthey believe while they hear him, but when he is gone their doubts\nwill all return, and says, \"Where shall we find a charmer then to\ndisperse our fears?\" Socrates answers that such a Charmer will yet\narise, and bids his disciples seek him in all lands of the earth.\nGreece, he says, is wide, and there are many foreign lands and even\nbarbarous countries in which they should travel searching for Him,\nfor there is nothing for which they could more reasonably spend time\nand money.\n\nAnd in the discourse of Socrates with Alcibiades, as given by Plato,\nthe great philosopher is represented as saying, \"We must wait till\nOne shall teach us our duty towards gods and men.\"\n\nAlcibiades asks, \"When, O Socrates, shall that time come, and who\nwill be the Teacher? Most happy should I be to see this man, whoever\nhe is.\" The Sage replies, \"He is One who is concerned for thee. He\nfeels for thee an admirable regard.\"\n\nWhen one reads these outreachings for an unknown Saviour in the\nnoblest minds of antiquity, it gives pathos and suggestive power to\nthat emotion which our Lord manifested only a few days before his\ndeath, when word was brought him that there were certain _Greeks_\ndesiring to see him. When the message was brought to him he answered\nwith a burst of exultation, \"The hour is come that the Son of man\nshould be glorified! Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and\ndie, it abideth alone, but if it die it bringeth forth much fruit,\nand I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me!\"\n\nHe was indeed the \"Teacher\" who had been \"concerned\" for Alcibiades,\nwho had cared for Socrates. He was the \"Charmer\" whom Socrates bade\nhis disciples seek above all things. He was the unknown bringer\nof good for whom Virgil longed. He was the \"Star\" of Balaam, the\n\"Benefactor\" of the Chaldee astrologers, the \"Saviour\" predicted by\nthe Persian Zoroaster. He was, it is true, the Shepherd of Israel,\nbut he had a heart for the \"other sheep not of this fold,\" who were\nscattered through all nations of the earth. He belonged not to any\nnation, but to the world, and hence aptly and sublimely did the last\nprophecy proclaim, \"The desire of all nations shall come!\"\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nTHE HIDDEN YEARS OF CHRIST\n\n\nOne great argument for the divine origin of the mission of Jesus\nis its utter unlikeness to the wisdom and ways of this world. From\nbeginning to end, it ignored and went contrary to all that human\nschemes for power would have advised.\n\nIt was first announced, not to the great or wise, but to the poor\nand unlettered. And when the holy child, predicted by such splendid\nprophecies, came and had been adored by the shepherds and magi, had\nbeen presented in the temple and blessed by Simeon and Anna--what\nthen? Suddenly he disappears from view. He is gone, no one knows\nwhither--hid in a distant land.\n\nIn time the parents return and settle in an obscure village. Nobody\nknows them, nobody cares for them, and the child grows up as the\nprophet predicted, \"As a tender plant, a root out of dry ground;\"\nthe lonely lily of Nazareth.\n\nAnd then there were thirty years of silence, when nobody thought\nof him and nobody expected anything from him. There was time\nfor Zacharias and Elisabeth and Simeon and Anna to die; for the\nshepherds to cease talking of the visions; for the wise ones of the\nearth to say, \"Oh, as to that child, it was nothing at all! He is\ngone. Nobody knows where he is. You see it has all passed by--a mere\nsuperstitious excitement of a few credulous people.\"\n\nAnd during these hidden years what was Jesus doing? We have no\nrecord. It was said by the Apostle that \"in all respects it behooved\nhim to be made like his brethren.\" Before the full splendor of his\ndivine gifts and powers descended upon him, it was necessary that he\nshould first live an average life, such as the great body of human\nbeings live. For, of Christ as he was during the three years of\nhis public life, it could not be said that he was in all respects\nin our situation or experiencing our trials. He had unlimited\nsupernatural power; he could heal the sick, raise the dead, hush the\nstormy waters, summon at his will legions of angels. A being of such\npower could not be said to understand exactly the feelings of our\nlimitations and weaknesses. But those years of power were only three\nin the life of our Lord; for thirty years he chose to live the life\nof an obscure human being.\n\nJesus prepared for his work among men by passing through the quiet\nexperience of a workingman in the lower orders. The tradition of the\nchurch is that Joseph, being much older than Mary, died while Jesus\nwas yet young, and thus the support of his mother devolved upon\nhim. Overbeck has a very touching picture in which he represents\nJoseph as breathing his last on the bosom of Jesus; it is a sketch\nfull of tenderness and feeling.\n\nWhat balance of mind, what reticence and self-control, what peace\nresulting from deep and settled faith, is there in this history, and\nwhat a cooling power it must have to the hot and fevered human heart\nthat burns in view of the much that is to be done to bring the world\nright!\n\nNothing was ever so strange, so visionary, to all human view so\nutterly and ridiculously hopeless of success, as the task that Jesus\nmeditated during the thirty years when he was quietly busy over his\ncarpenter's bench in Nazareth. Hundreds of years before, the prophet\nDaniel saw, in a dream, a stone cut out of the mountain without\nhands, growing till it filled the earth. Thus the ideal kingdom\nof Jesus grew in the silence and solitude of his own soul till it\nbecame a power and a force before which all other forces of the\nworld have given way. The Christian religion was the greatest and\nmost unprecedented reform ever introduced.\n\nIn the present age of the world, the whole movement and uneasiness\nand convulsion of what is called progress comes from the effort\nto adjust existing society to the principles laid down by Jesus.\nThe Sermon on the Mount was, and still is, the most disturbing and\nrevolutionary document in the world.\n\nThis being the case, what impresses us most in the character of\nJesus, as a reformer, is the atmosphere of peacefulness that\nsurrounded him, and in which he seemed to live and move and have his\nbeing.\n\nHuman beings as reformers are generally agitated, hurried,\nimpatient. Scarcely are the spirits of the prophets subject to the\nprophets. They are liable to run before the proper time and season,\nto tear open the bud that ought to unfold; they become nervous,\nirascible, and lose mental and physical health: and, if the reform\non which they have set their heart fails, they are overwhelmed with\ndiscouragement and tempted to doubt divine Providence.\n\nLet us now look at Jesus. How terrible was the state of the world at\nthe time when he began to reflect upon it in his unfolding youth!\nHow much was there to be done! What darkness, cruelty, oppression,\nconfusion! Yet he, knowing that that was the work of reorganizing,\nshowed no haste. Thirty years was by Jewish law the appointed time\nat which a religious teacher should commence his career. Jesus\napparently felt no impulse to antedate this period; one incident\nalone, in his childhood, shows him carried away beyond himself by\nthe divine ardor which filled his soul.\n\nEven then, his answers to his mother showed the consciousness of\na divine and wonderful mission such as belonged only to one of\nthe human race, and it is immediately added, \"And he went down\nto Nazareth and was subject to them.\" Eighteen years now passed\naway and nothing was known of the enthusiastic spirit. When he\nappears in the synagogue at Nazareth, he is spoken of simply as\n\"the carpenter.\" \"How knoweth this man letters?\" was the cry of his\ntownsmen.\n\nNothing shows more strongly the veiled and hidden and perfectly\nquiet life that Jesus had been leading among them. He had been a\ncarpenter, not a teacher. The humble, calm, unobtrusive life of a\ngood mechanic, who does every day's duty in its time and place,\nis not a thing that calls out any attention in a community. There\nare many followers of Jesus in this world who are living the same\nsilent, quiet life, who would not be missed in the great world if\nthey were gone, who, being always in place and time, and working\nwithout friction or jar, come to be as much disregarded as the daily\nperfect work of nature.\n\nThe life of Jesus must also have been a silent one. Of all the\nthings that he must have been capable of saying we find not one\nrecorded. And the wonder of his townsmen at his capacity of speech\nshows that there had been no words spoken by him before to accustom\nthem to it.\n\nIn our Saviour's public career we are surprised at nothing so much\nas his calmness. He was never in haste. His words have all the\nweight of deliberation, and the occasions when he refrains from\nspeech are fully as remarkable as the things he says.\n\nThere seems to be about him none of the wearying anxiety as\nto immediate results, none of the alternations of hope and\ndiscouragement that mark our course. He had faith in God, whose\ngreat plan he was working, whose message he came to deliver, and\nwhose times and seasons he strictly regarded. So, too, did he regard\nthe mental and spiritual condition of the imperfect ones by whom he\nwas surrounded. \"I have many things to say to you, but ye cannot\nbear them now,\" he said even to his disciples. When their zeal\ntranscended his, and they longed to get hold of the thunderbolts and\ncall down fire from heaven, his grave and steady rebuke recalled\nthem: \"Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of.\"\n\nWe see his disciples excited, ardent,--now coming back with triumph\nto tell how even the devils were subject to them, now forbidding\none to cast out devils because he followed not them, now contending\nwho should be greatest; and among them sits the Master, lowly,\nthoughtful, tranquil, with the little child on his knee, or bending\nto wash the feet of a disciple, the calmest, sweetest, least\nassuming of them all.\n\nThis should be the model of all Christian reformers. He that\nbelieveth shall not make haste is the true motto of Christian reform.\n\nAnd these great multitudes, to whose hands no special, individual\npower is given--they are only minute workers in a narrower sphere.\nDaily toils, small economies, the ordering of the material cares of\nlife, are all their lot. Before them in their way they can see the\nfootsteps of Jesus. We can conceive that in the lowly path of his\nlife all his works were perfect, that never was a nail driven or a\nline laid carelessly, and that the toil of that carpenter's bench\nwas as sacred to him as his teachings in the temple, because it was\nduty.\n\nSometimes there is a sadness and discontent, a repressed eagerness\nfor some higher sphere, that invades the minds of humble workers.\nLet them look unto Jesus, and be content. All they have to do is to\nbe \"faithful over a few things,\" and in his own time he will make\nthem \"ruler over many things.\"\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nTHE PRAYER-LIFE OF JESUS\n\n\nThe Bible presents us with the personality of a magnificent\nBeing--the only-begotten Son of God--who, being in the form of God\nand without robbery equal with God, emptied himself of his glory and\ntook upon him the form of a servant; and, being found in fashion as\na man, humbled himself and became obedient to death--even the death\nof the cross.\n\nThis great Being, we are told, entered the race of mortality,\ndivested of those advantages which came from his divine origin,\nand assuming all those disadvantages of limitation and dependence\nwhich belong to human beings. The Apostle says, \"It behooved him\nin all respects to be made like unto his brethren.\" His lot was\nobedience--dependence upon the Father--and he gained victories by\njust the means which are left to us--faith and prayer.\n\nNow, there are many good people whose feeling about prayer is\nsomething like this: \"I pray because I am commanded to, not because\nI feel a special need or find a special advantage in it. In my view\nwe are to use our intellect and our will in discovering duties and\novercoming temptations, quite sure that God will, of course, aid\nthose who aid themselves.\" This class of persons look upon all\nprotracted seasons of prayer and periods spent in devotion as so\nmuch time taken from the active duties of life. A week devoted to\nprayer, a convention of Christians meeting to spend eight or ten\ndays in exercises purely devotional, would strike them as something\nexcessive and unnecessary, and tending to fanaticism.\n\nIf ever there was a human being who could be supposed able to meet\nthe trials of life and overcome its temptations in his own strength,\nit must have been Jesus Christ.\n\nBut his example stands out among all others, and he is shown to us\nas peculiarly a man of prayer. The wonderful quietude and reticence\nof spirit in which he awaited the call of his Father to begin his\ngreat work has already been noticed. He waited patiently, living for\nthirty years the life of a common human being of the lower grades\nof society, and not making a single movement to display either\nwhat may be called his natural gifts, of teaching, etc., or those\ndivine powers which were his birthright. Having taken the place of a\nservant, as a servant he waited the divine call.\n\nWhen that call came he consecrated himself to his great work by\nsubmitting to the ordinance of baptism. We are told that as he went\nup from the waters of baptism, praying, the heavens were opened and\nthe Holy Ghost descended upon him, and a voice from heaven said,\n\"Thou art my beloved Son, in thee I am well pleased.\"\n\nMight we not think that now the man Jesus Christ would feel fully\nprepared to begin at once the work to which God so visibly called\nhim? But no. The divine Spirit within him led to a still farther\ndelay. More than a month's retreat from all the world's scenes and\nways, a period of unbroken solitude, was devoted to meditation and\nprayer.\n\nIf Jesus Christ deemed so much time spent in prayer needful to his\nwork, what shall we say of ourselves? Feeble and earthly, with\nhearts always prone to go astray, living in a world where everything\npresses us downward to the lower regions of the senses and passions,\nhow can we afford to neglect that higher communion, those seasons of\ndivine solitude, which were thought necessary by our Master? It was\nin those many days devoted entirely to communion with God that he\ngained strength to resist the temptations of Satan, before which we\nso often fall. Whatever we may think of the mode and manner of that\nmysterious account of the temptations of Christ, it is evident that\nthey were met and overcome by the spiritual force gained by prayer\nand the study of God's word.\n\nBut it was not merely in this retirement of forty days that our Lord\nset us the example of the use of seasons of religious seclusion.\nThere is frequent mention made in the Gospels of his retiring for\npurposes of secret prayer. In the midst of the popularity and\nsuccess that attended his first beneficent miracles, we are told by\nSt. Mark that, \"rising up a great while before day, he went out into\na solitary place and there prayed.\" His disciples went to look for\nhim, and found him in his retirement, and brought him back with the\nmessage, \"All men are seeking for thee.\" In Luke v. 16, it is said:\n\"He withdrew himself into the wilderness and prayed;\" and on another\noccasion (Luke iv. 42), he says: \"And when it was day, he departed\nand went into a desert place.\" Again, when preparing to take the\nmost important step in his ministry, the choice of his twelve\nApostles, we read in Luke vi. 12:\n\n\"And it came to pass in those days that he went out into a mountain\nto pray, and continued _all night_ in prayer to God; and when it was\nday, he called unto him his disciples; and of them he chose twelve,\nwhom also he named apostles.\"\n\nIt was when his disciples found him engaged in prayer, and listened\nfor a little while to his devotions, that they addressed to him the\npetition, \"Lord, teach _us_ to pray.\" Might we not all, in view of\nhis example, address to him the same prayer? Surely if there is\nanything in which Christ's professed disciples need to learn of him\nit is in prayer.\n\nNot only in example but in teaching did he exhort to prayer. \"Watch\nand pray\" were words so often upon his lips that they may seem to\nbe indeed the watchwords of our faith. He bids us retire to our\nclosets and with closed door pray to our Father in secret. He says\nthat men \"ought always to pray and not to faint,\" though the answer\nbe delayed. He reasons from what all men feel of parental longings\nin granting the requests of their little children, and says, \"If\nye, being evil, are so ready to hear your children, how much more\nready will your Father in heaven be to give good things to them\nthat ask him.\" Nay, he uses a remarkable boldness in urging us to\nbe importunate in presenting our requests, again and again, in the\nface of apparent delay and denial. He shows instances where even\nindifferent or unjust people are overcome by sheer importunity, and\nintimates how much greater must be the power of importunity--urgent,\npressing solicitation--on a Being always predisposed to benevolence.\n\nBy all these methods and illustrations our Lord incites us to follow\nhis prayerful example, and to overcome, as he overcame, by prayer.\nThe Christian Church felt so greatly the need of definite seasons\ndevoted to religious retirement that there grew up among them the\ncustom now so extensively observed in Christendom, of devoting\nforty days in every year to a special retreat from the things of\nearth, and a special devotion to the work of private and public\nprayer. Like all customs, even those originating in deep spiritual\ninfluences, this is too apt to degenerate into a mere form. Many\nassociate no ideas with \"fasting\" except a change in articles of\nfood. The true spiritual fasting, which consists in turning our eyes\nand hearts from the engrossing cares and pleasures of earth and\nfixing them on things divine, is lost sight of. Our \"forty days\"\nare not like our Lord's, given to prayer and the study of God's\nWord. Nothing could make the period of Lent so much of a reality as\nto employ it in a systematic effort to fix the mind on Jesus. The\nhistory in the Gospels is so well worn that it often slips through\nthe head without affecting the heart.\n\nBut if, retiring into solitude for a portion of each day, we should\nselect some one scene or trait or incident in the life of Jesus, and\nwith all the helps we can get seek to understand it fully, tracing\nit in the other evangelists, comparing it with other passages of\nScripture, etc., we should find ourselves insensibly interested, and\nmight hope that in this effort of our souls to understand him, Jesus\nhimself would draw near, as he did of old to the disciples on the\nway to Emmaus.\n\nThis looking unto Jesus and thinking about him is a better way to\nmeet and overcome sin than any physical austerities or spiritual\nself-reproaches. It is by looking at him, the Apostle says, \"as in a\nglass,\" that we are \"changed into the same image, as from glory to\nglory.\"\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nTHE TEMPTATIONS OF JESUS\n\n\nIntimately connected with the forty days of solitude and fasting is\nthe mysterious story of the Temptation.\n\nWe are told in the Epistle to the Hebrews that our Lord was exposed\nto a peculiar severity of trial in order that he might understand\nthe sufferings and wants of us feeble human beings. \"For in that he\nhimself hath suffered, being tempted, he is able to succor those\nwho are tempted.\" We are to understand, then, that however divine\nwas our Lord's nature in his pre\u00ebxistent state, he chose to assume\nour weakness and our limitations, and to meet and overcome the\ntemptations of Satan by just such means as are left to us--by faith\nand prayer and the study of God's Word.\n\nThere are many theories respecting this remarkable history of the\ntemptation. Some suppose the Evil Spirit to have assumed a visible\nform, and to have been appreciably present. But if we accept the\nstatement we have quoted from the Epistle to the Hebrews, that\nour Lord was tempted in all respects as we are, it must have been\nan invisible and spiritual presence with which he contended. The\ntemptations must have presented themselves to him, as to us, by\nthoughts injected into his mind.\n\nIt seems probable that, of many forms of temptation which he passed\nthrough, the three of which we are told are selected as specimens,\nand if we notice we shall see that they represent certain great\nradical sources of trial to the whole human race.\n\nFirst comes the temptation from the cravings of animal appetite.\nPerhaps hunger--the want of food and the weakness and faintness\nresulting from it--brings more temptation to sin than any other\none cause. To supply animal cravings men are driven to theft and\nmurder, and women to prostitution. The more fortunate of us, who\nare brought up in competence and shielded from want, cannot know\nthe fierceness of this temptation--its driving, maddening power.\nBut he who came to estimate our trials, and to help the race of\nman in their temptations, chose to know what the full force of the\npangs of hunger were, and to know it in the conscious possession of\nmiraculous power which could at any moment have supplied them. To\nhave used this power for the supply of his wants would have been at\nonce to abandon that very condition of trial and dependence which he\ncame to share with us. It was a sacred trust, not given for himself\nbut for the world. It was the very work he undertook, to bear the\ntrials which his brethren bore as they were called to bear them,\nwith only such helps as it might please the Father to give him in\nhis own time and way.\n\nSo when the invisible tempter suggested that he might at once\nrelieve this pain and gratify this craving, he answered simply that\nthere was a higher life than the animal, and that man could be\nupborne by faith in God even under the pressure of utmost want. \"Man\nshall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out\nof the mouth of God.\" How many poor, suffering followers of Christ,\ncalled to forsake the means of livelihood for conscience' sake,\nhave been obliged to live as Christ did on the simple promise of\nGod, and to wait. Such sufferers may feel that they are not called\nto this trial by one ignorant of its nature or unsympathetic with\ntheir weakness. And the same consolation applies to all who struggle\nwith the lower wants of our nature in any form. Christ's pity and\nsympathy are for them.\n\nAll who struggle with animal desires in any form, which duty forbids\nthem to gratify, may remember that God has given them an Almighty\nSaviour, who, having suffered, is able to succor those that are\ntempted.\n\nThe second trial was no less universal. It was the temptation to\nuse his sacred and solemn gifts from God for purposes of personal\nostentation and display. \"Why not,\" suggests the tempter, \"descend\nfrom the pinnacle of the temple upborne by angels? How striking\na manifestation of the power of the Son of God!\" To this came\nthe grave answer, \"Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God,\"--by\nneedlessly incurring a danger which would make miraculous\ndeliverance necessary.\n\nIs no one in our day put to this test? Is not the young minister\nat God's altar, to whom is given eloquence and power over\nthe souls of men, in danger of this temptation to theatric\nexhibitions--ostentatious display of self--this seeking for what is\ndramatic and striking, rather than what is for God's service and\nglory? Whoever is intrusted with power of any kind or in any degree\nis tempted to use it selfishly rather than divinely. To all such the\nLord's temptation and resistance of it gives assurance of help if\nhelp be sought.\n\nBut finally came the last, the most insidious temptation, and its\nsubstance seemed to be this: \"Why not use these miraculous gifts\nto make a worldly party? Why not flatter the national vanity of\nthe Jews, excite their martial spirit, lead them to a course of\nsuccessful revolt against their masters, and then of brilliant\nconquest, and seize upon all the kingdoms of the world and the glory\nof them? To be sure, this will require making concession here and\nthere to the evil passions of men, but when the supreme power is\nonce gained all shall go right. Why this long, slow path of patience\nand self-denial? Why this conflict with the world? Why the cross\nand the grave? Why not the direct road of power, using the worldly\nforces first, and afterwards the spiritual?\" This seems to be a\nfree version of all that is included in the proposition: \"All this\npower will I give thee, and the glory of it; for that is delivered\nunto me and to whomsoever I will I give it. If, therefore, thou wilt\nworship me all shall be thine.\"\n\nThe indignant answer of Jesus shows with what living energy he\nrepelled every thought of the least concession to evil, the least\nadvantage to be gained by following or allowing the corrupt courses\nof this world. He would not flatter the rich and influential. He\nwould not conceal offensive truth. He would seek the society of the\npoor and despised. He taught love of enemies in the face of a nation\nhating their enemies and longing for revenge. He taught forgiveness\nand prayer, while they were longing for battle and conquest. He\nblessed the meek, the sorrowful, the merciful, the persecuted for\nrighteousness, instead of the powerful and successful. If he had\nbeen willing to have been such a king as the Scribes and Pharisees\nwanted they would have adored him and fought for him. But because\nhis kingdom was not of this world they cried: \"Not this man, but\nBarabbas!\" It is said that after this temptation the Devil departed\nfrom him \"for a season.\" But all through his life, in one form or\nanother, that temptation must have been suggested to him.\n\nWhen he told his Apostles that he was going up to Jerusalem to\nsuffer and to die, Peter, it is said, rebuked him with earnestness:\n\"That be far from thee, Lord; such things shall not happen to thee.\"\n\nJesus instantly replies, not to Peter, but to the Invisible Enemy\nwho through Peter's affection and ambition is urging the worldly and\nself-seeking course upon him: \"Get thee behind me, Satan, thou art\nan offence unto me. Thou savorest not the things that be of God but\nof man.\"\n\nWe are told that the temptation of Christ was so real that he\nsuffered, being tempted. He knew that he must disappoint the\nexpectations of all his friends who had set their hearts on the\ntemporal kingdom, that he was leading them on step by step to a\nseason of unutterable darkness and sorrow. The cross was bitter to\nhim, in prospect as in reality, but never for a moment did he allow\nhimself to swerve from it. As the time drew near, he said, \"Now is\nmy soul troubled, and what shall I say? Father, save me from this\nhour? But, for this cause came I unto this hour;--Father, glorify\nthy name!\"\n\nIs not this lifelong temptation which Christ overcame one that meets\nus all every day and hour? To live an unworldly life; never to seek\nplace or power or wealth by making the least sacrifice of conscience\nor principle; is it easy? is it common? Yet he who chose rather to\ndie on the cross than to yield in the slightest degree his high\nspiritual mission can feel for our temptations and succor us even\nhere.\n\nThe Apostle speaks of life as a _race_ set before us, which we are\nto win by laying aside every impediment and looking steadfastly\nunto Jesus, who, \"for the joy that was set before him, endured the\ncross.\" Our victories over self are to be gained not so much by\nself-reproaches and self-conflicts as by the enthusiasm of looking\naway from ourselves to Him who has overcome for us. Our Christ is\nnot dead, but alive forevermore! A living presence, ever near to the\nsoul that seeks salvation from sin. And to the struggling and the\ntempted he still says, \"Look unto ME, and be ye saved.\"\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nOUR LORD'S BIBLE\n\n\nThe life of Jesus, regarded from a mere human point of view,\npresents an astonishing problem. An obscure man in an obscure\nprovince has revolutionized the world. Every letter and public\ndocument of the most cultured nations dates from his birth, as a\nnew era. How was this man educated? We find he had no access to\nthe Greek and Roman literature. Jesus was emphatically a man of\none book. That book was the Hebrew Scriptures, which we call the\nOld Testament. The Old Testament was his Bible, and this single\nconsideration must invest it with undying interest for us.\n\nWe read the Bible which our parents read. We see, perhaps,\npencil-marks here and there, which show what they loved and what\nhelped and comforted them in the days of their life-struggle, and\nthe Bible is dearer to us on that account. Then, going backward\nalong the bright pathway of the sainted and blessed who lived in\nformer ages, the Bible becomes diviner to us for their sake. The\nBible of the Martyrs, the Bible of the Waldenses, the Bible of\nLuther and Calvin, of our Pilgrim Fathers, has a double value.\n\nI have in my possession a very ancient black-letter edition of the\nBible printed in 1522, more than three hundred years ago. In this\nedition many of the Psalms have been read and re-read, till the\npaper is almost worn away. Some human heart, some suffering soul,\nhas taken deep comfort here. If to have been the favorite, intimate\nfriend of the greatest number of hearts be an ambition worthy of a\npoet, David has gained a loftier place than any poet who ever wrote.\nHe has lived next to the heart of men, and women, and children, of\nall ages, in all climes, in all times and seasons, all over the\nearth. They have rejoiced and wept, prayed and struggled, lived and\ndied, with David's words in their mouths. His heart has become the\nuniversal Christian heart, and will ever be, till earth's sorrows,\nand earth itself, are a vanished dream.\n\nIt is too much the fashion of this day to speak slightingly of the\nOld Testament. Apart from its grandeur, its purity, its tenderness\nand majesty, the Old Testament has this peculiar interest to the\nChristian,--it was the Bible of the Lord Jesus Christ.\n\nAs a man, Jesus had a human life to live, a human experience to\nundergo. For thirty silent years he was known among men only as\na carpenter in Nazareth, and the Scriptures of the Old Testament\nwere his daily companions. When he emerges into public life, we\nfind him thoroughly versed in the Scriptures. Allusions to them are\nconstant, through all his discourses; he continually refers to them\nas writings that reflect his own image. \"Search the Scriptures,\" he\nsays, \"for they are they that testify of me.\"\n\nThe Psalms of David were to Jesus all and more than they can be to\nany other son of man.\n\nIn certain of them he saw himself and his future life, his trials,\nconflicts, sufferings, resurrection, and final triumph foreshadowed.\nHe quoted them to confound his enemies. When they sought to puzzle\nhim with perplexing questions he met them with others equally\ndifficult, drawn from the Scriptures. He asks them:--\n\n     \"What think ye of the Messiah? whose son is he? They say unto\n     him, the Son of David. He saith unto them, How then doth David\n     in spirit call him Lord, saying, The Lord said unto my Lord, Sit\n     thou on my right hand till I make thine enemies thy footstool?\n     If David then call him Lord, how is he his son?\"\n\nSo, when they ask the question, \"Which is the greatest commandment\nof all?\" he answers by placing together two passages in the Old\nTestament, the one commanding supreme love to God and the other\nimpartial love to man's neighbor. The greatest commandment of all\nnowhere stands in the Old Testament exactly as Jesus quotes it,\nthe first part being found in Deuteronomy vi. 5, and the second in\nLeviticus xix. 18. This is a specimen of the exhaustive manner in\nwhich he studied and used the Scriptures.\n\nOur Saviour quotes often also from the prophets. In his first public\nappearance in his native village he goes into the synagogue and\nreads from Isaiah. When they question and disbelieve, he answers\nthem by pointed allusions to the stories of Naaman the Syrian and\nthe widow of Sarepta. When the Sadducees raise the question of a\nfuture life, he replies by quoting from the Pentateuch that God\ncalls himself the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and God is not\nthe God of the dead, but the God of the living, for all are alive\nto him. He cites the history of Jonah as a symbol of his own death\nand resurrection; and at the last moment of his trial before the\nHigh Priest, when adjured to say whether he be the Christ or not, he\nreplies in words that recall the sublime predictions in the Book of\nDaniel of the coming of Messiah to judgment. The prophet says:--\n\n     \"I saw in my vision, and, behold, One like the Son of man came\n     with the clouds of heaven, and came to the Ancient of days;\n     and there was given unto him dominion and glory and a kingdom,\n     that all people and nations and languages should serve him. His\n     dominion is an everlasting dominion, that shall not pass away or\n     be destroyed.\"\n\nWhen the High Priest of the Jews said to Jesus, \"I adjure thee by\nthe living God that thou tell us whether thou be Messiah or not,\" he\nanswered, \"I am; and hereafter ye shall see the Son of man sitting\non the right hand of power and coming in the clouds of heaven.\"\n\nSo much was the character of our Lord's teaching colored and\nimpregnated by the writings of the Old Testament that it is\nimpossible fully to comprehend Jesus without an intimate knowledge\nof them. To study the life of Christ without the Hebrew Scriptures\nis to study a flower without studying the plant from which it\nsprung, the root and leaves which nourished it. He continually spoke\nof himself as a Being destined to fulfill what had gone before.\n\"Think not,\" he said, \"that I am come to destroy the Law and the\nProphets. I am not come to destroy but to fulfill.\" He frequently\nspoke of himself as of the order and race of Jewish prophets; like\nthem he performed symbolic acts which were visible prophecies, as\nwhen he knew his nation had finally rejected him he signified their\ndoom by the awful sign of the blasted fig-tree. Through all the last\ndays of Jesus, as his death approaches, we find continual references\nto the Old Testament prophecies, and quotations from them.\n\nAnd after his resurrection, when he appears to his disciples, he\n\"opens to them the Scriptures;\" that talk on the way to Emmaus was\nan explanation of the prophecies, by our Lord himself. Would that it\nhad been recorded! Would not our hearts too have \"burned within us!\"\n\nNow, a book that was in life and in death so dear to our Lord,\na book which he interpreted as from first to last a preparation\nfor and prophecy of himself, cannot but be full of interest to us\nChristians. When we read the Old Testament Scriptures we go along\na track that we know Jesus and his mother must often have trod\ntogether. The great resemblance in style between the Song of Mary\nand the Psalms of David is one of the few indications given in Holy\nWrit of the veiled and holy mystery of his mother's life. She was\na poetess, a prophetess, one whose mind was capable of the highest\necstasy of inspiration. Let us read the Psalms again, with the\nthought in our mind that they were the comforters, the counselors of\nJesus and Mary. What was so much to them cannot be indifferent to us.\n\nNor did the disciples and Apostles in the glow of the unfolding\ndispensation cease to reverence and value those writings so closely\nstudied by their Lord. They did not speak of them as a worn-out\nthing, that had \"had its day,\" but they alluded to them with the\naffectionate veneration due to divine oracles. \"The prophecy came\nnot of old times by the will of man, but holy men of old spake as\nthey were moved by the Holy Ghost.\" St. Paul congratulates Timothy\nthat \"from a child thou hast known the Holy Scriptures, which are\nable to make thee wise unto salvation,\" and adds: \"all Scripture is\ngiven by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for\nreproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness, that the\nman of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works.\"\n\nEven while the New Testament was being formed, its writers gave this\ncomplete testimony to the Old, as being able to make men \"wise unto\nsalvation,\" and to complete a man's spiritual education. This book,\nthen, so dear to Christ and his Apostles, is something that should\nbe dear to all Christians. Its study will enrich the soul. It is\nwonderful, mysterious, unique--there is no sacred book like it in\nthe world; and in reading it we come nearer to Him who was foretold\nby it, and who when he came upon the earth found in it nourishment\nfor his soul, instruction and spiritual refreshment by the wayside,\ncomfort even in the extreme agonies of a dreadful death. However\ndear to us may be the story of his life in the Gospels and his\nteachings through his Apostles and their Epistles, let us in\nfollowing his steps forget not \"the Scriptures\" which he bade us\nsearch, but diligently read and love the Bible of our Lord.\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nCHRIST'S FIRST SERMON\n\n\nThe first public sermon of the long-desired Messiah--his first\ndeclaration of his mission and message to the world--what was it?\n\nIt was delivered in his own city of Nazareth, where he had been\nbrought up; it was on the Sabbath day; it was in the synagogue where\nhe had always worshiped; and it was in manner and form exactly in\naccordance with the customs of his national religion.\n\nIt had always been customary among the Jews to call upon any member\nof the synagogue to read a passage from the book of the prophets;\nand the young man Jesus, concerning whom certain rumors had vaguely\ngone forth, was on the day in question called to take his part in\nthe service. It was a holy and solemn moment, when the long silence\nof years was to be broken. Jesus was surrounded by faces familiar\nfrom infancy. His mother, his brothers, his sisters, were all there;\nevery eye was fixed upon him. The historian says:--\n\n     \"And there was delivered unto him the book (or roll) of the\n     prophet Isaiah, and when he had unrolled the book he found the\n     place where it is written (Isaiah lxi.):--\n\n    The spirit of the Lord is upon me.\n    He hath anointed me to preach good tidings to the poor;\n    He hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted;\n    To preach deliverance to the captives;\n    The recovering of sight to the blind;\n    To set at liberty them that are bruised;\n    To preach the acceptable year of the Lord.\"\n\nWe may imagine the sweetness, the tenderness, the enthusiasm with\nwhich this beautiful announcement of his mission was uttered; and\nwhen, closing the book, he looked round on the faces of his townsmen\nand acquaintances, and said, \"This day is this scripture fulfilled\nin your ears,\"--it was an appeal of Heavenly love yearning to heal\nand to save those nearest and longest known.\n\nIt would seem that the sweet voice, the graceful manner, at first\ncharmed the rough audience; there was a thrilling, vibrating\npower, that struck upon every heart. But those hearts were cold\nand hard. A Saviour from sin, a Comforter of sorrow, was not what\nthey were looking for in their Messiah. They felt themselves good\nenough spiritually, in their observance of the forms of their law\nand ritual; they were stupidly content with themselves and wanted\nno comforter. What they did want was a brilliant military leader.\nThey wanted a miracle-working, supernatural Lord and Commander that\nshould revenge their national wrongs, conquer the Romans, and set\nthe Jewish people at the head of the world. Having heard of the\nmiracles of Christ in Cana and Capernaum, they had thought that\nperhaps he might prove this Leader, and if so, what a glory for\nNazareth! But they were in a critical, exacting mood; they were in\ntheir hearts calling for some brilliant and striking performance\nthat should illuminate and draw attention to their town. Although\nthe congregation were at first impressed and charmed with the\ngracious words and manner of the speaker, the hard, vulgar spirit of\nenvy and carping criticism soon overshadowed their faces.\n\n\"Who is this Jesus--is he not the carpenter? What sign does he show?\nLet him work some miracles forthwith, and we will see if we will\nbelieve.\"\n\nIt was this disposition which our Lord felt in the atmosphere\naround him; the language of souls uttered itself to him unspoken.\nHe answered as he so often did to the feeling he saw in the hearts\nrather than the words of those around him. He said, \"Ye will say to\nme, Physician, heal thyself. Do here in thy native place the marvels\nwe have heard of in Capernaum. I tell you a truth; no prophet is\naccepted in his own country. There were many widows in Israel in\nthe time of the prophet Elijah, but he was sent only to a widow of\nSarepta, a city of Sidon. There were many lepers in Israel in the\ntime of Elisha, yet none of them was healed but Naaman the Syrian.\"\nIt would seem as if our Lord was preparing to show them that he\nhad a mission of love and mercy that could not be bounded by one\nvillage, or even by the chosen race of Israel, but was for the world.\n\nBut the moment he spoke of favors and blessings given to the\nGentiles the fierce national spirit flamed up; the speech was cut\nshort by a tumultuous uprising of the whole synagogue. They laid\nviolent hands on Jesus and hurried him to the brow of the precipice\non which their city was built, to cast him down headlong. But before\nthe murder was consummated the calm majesty of Jesus had awed his\npersecutors. Their slackened hands dropped; they looked one on\nanother irresolute: and he, passing silently through the midst of\nthem, went his way. He had offered himself to them as their Saviour\nfrom sin and from sorrow in the very fullness of his heart. Heavenly\ntenderness and sweetness had stretched out its arms to embrace them,\nand been repulsed by sneering coldness and hard, worldly unbelief.\n\nNazareth did not want Him; and he left it. It was the first of those\nmany rejections which He at last summed up when he said, \"How often\nwould I have gathered thy children, and ye would not.\"\n\nBut, though he thus came to his own and his own received him not,\nyet the lovely and gracious proclamation which he made then and\nthere still stands unfading and beautiful as a rainbow of hope over\nthis dark earth. The one Being sent into the world to represent\nthe Invisible Father, and to show us the hidden heart and purposes\nof God in this mysterious life of ours, there declared that his\nmission was one of pity, of help, of consolation; that the poor, the\nbruised, the desolate, the prisoner, might forever find a Friend in\nhim.\n\nThere are times when the miseries and sorrows of the suffering race\nof man, the groaning and travailing of this mysterious life of ours,\noppress us, and our faith in God's love grows faint.\n\nThen let us turn our thoughts to this divine Personality, Jesus,\nthe anointed Son of God, and hear him saying now, as he said at\nNazareth:--\n\n    \"The spirit of the Lord is upon ME.\n    He hath sent me to preach good tidings to the poor;\n    He hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted,\n    To preach deliverance to the captives,\n    The recovering of sight to the blind,\n    To set at liberty them that are bruised!\"\n\nIt is said of him in the prophets: \"He shall not fail nor be\ndiscouraged till he have set judgment in the earth. The isles shall\nwait for his law. Our Redeemer is mighty; the Lord of Hosts is his\nname--our Saviour, the Holy One of Israel!\"\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nTHE FRIENDSHIPS OF JESUS\n\n\nIn turning our thoughts toward various scenes of our Lord's life,\nwe are peculiarly affected with the human warmth and tenderness of\nhis personal friendships. The little association of his own peculiar\nfriends makes a picture that we need to study to understand him.\n\nSt. John touchingly says: \"Now when the time was come that Jesus\nshould depart out of the world unto the Father, having loved his\nown which were in the world he loved them unto the end.\" When we\nthink that all that we know of our Lord comes through these friends\nof his--the witnesses and recorders of his life and death--we shall\nfeel more than ever what he has made them to us. Without them we\nshould have had no Jesus.\n\nOur Lord, with all that he is to us, is represented to us through\nthe loving hearts and affectionate records of these his chosen\nones. It is amazing to think of, that our Lord never left to his\nchurch one line written by his own hand, and that all his words come\nto us transfused through the memories of his friends. How much to\nus, then, were these friendships of Jesus--how dear to us, for all\neternity, these friends!\n\nWe are told that immediately after the resurrection there was an\nassociated church of one hundred and twenty, who are characterized\nby Peter as \"men that have companied with us all the time that the\nLord Jesus went in and out among us.\"\n\nThe account of how these friends were gathered to him becomes\ndeeply interesting. St. John relates how, one day, John the\nBaptist saw Jesus walking by the Jordan in silent contemplation,\nand pointed him out to his disciples: \"Behold the Lamb of God.\"\nAnd the two disciples heard him speak and followed Jesus. Then\nJesus turned and said, \"What seek ye?\" They said, \"Master, where\ndwellest thou?\" He answered, \"Come and see.\" They came and saw\nwhere he dwelt, and abode with him that day. We learn from this\nthat some of the disciples were those whose spiritual nature had\nbeen awakened by John the Baptist, and who, under his teaching,\nwere devoting themselves to a religious life. We see the power\nof personal attraction possessed by our Lord, which drew these\nsimple, honest natures to himself. One of these men was Andrew,\nthe brother of Simon Peter, and he immediately carried the glad\ntidings to his brother, \"We have found the Messiah;\" and he brought\nhim to Jesus. Thus, by a sort of divine attraction, one brother\nand friend bringing another, the little band increased. Some were\nmore distinctly called by the Master. Matthew, the tax-gatherer,\nsitting in his place of business, heard the words, \"Follow me,\" and\nimmediately rose up, and left all and followed him. James and John\nforsook their nets, in the midst of their day's labor, to follow\nhim. In time, a little band of twelve left all worldly callings and\nhome ties, to form a traveling mission family of which Jesus was the\nhead and father. Others, both men and women, at times traveled with\nthem and assisted their labors; but these twelve were the central\nfigures.\n\nThese twelve men Jesus took to nurture and educate as the expounders\nof the Christian religion and the organizers of the church. St.\nJohn, in poetic vision, sees the church as a golden city descending\nfrom God out of heaven, having twelve foundations, and in them the\nnames of these twelve Apostles of the Lamb. This plan of choosing\nhonest, simple-hearted, devout men, and revealing himself to the\nworld through their human nature and divinely educated conceptions,\nhad in it something peculiar and original.\n\nWhen we look at the selection made by Christ of these _own_ ones,\nwe see something widely different from all the usual methods of\nearthly wisdom. They were neither the most cultured nor the most\ninfluential of their times. The majority of them appear to have been\nplain workingmen, from the same humble class in which our Lord was\nborn. But the Jud\u00e6an peasant, under the system of religious training\nand teaching given by Moses, was no stolid or vulgar character. He\ninherited lofty and inspiring traditions, a ritual stimulating to\nthe spiritual and poetic nature, a system of ethical morality and of\ntenderness to humanity in advance of the whole ancient world. A good\nJew was frequently a man of spiritualized and elevated devotion.\nSupreme love to God and habitual love and charity to man were the\nessentials of his religious ideal. The whole system of divine\ntraining and discipline to which the Jewish race had been subjected\nfor hundreds of years had prepared a higher moral average to be\nchosen from than could have been found in any other nation.\n\nWhen Jesus began to preach, it was the best and purest men that\nmost deeply sympathized and were most attracted, and from them he\nchose his intimate circle of followers--to train them as the future\nApostles of his religion.\n\nThe new dispensation that Jesus came to introduce was something as\nyet uncomprehended on earth. It was a heavenly ideal, and these\nmen--simple, pure-hearted, and devout as they were--had no more\nconception of it than a deaf person has of music. It was a new\nmanner of life, a new style of manhood, that was to constitute\nthis kingdom of Heaven. It was no outward organization--no earthly\nglory. Man was to learn to live, not by force, not by ambition,\nnot by pleasure, but by LOVE. Man was to become perfect in love\nas God is, so that loving and serving and suffering for others\nshould become a fashion and habit in this world, where ruling and\ndomineering and making others suffer had been the law. And Jesus\ntook into his family twelve men to prepare them to be the Apostles\nof this idea. His mode was more that of a mother than a father.\nHe strove to infuse Himself into them by an embracing, tender,\nbrooding love; ardent, self-forgetful, delicate, refined. As we\nread the New Testament narrative of the walks and talks of Jesus\nwith these chosen ones, their restings by the wayside, their family\nconversations at evening, when he sat with some little child on his\nknee, when he listened to their sayings, reproved their failings,\nsettled their difficulties with one another, we can see no image\nby which to represent the Master but one of those loving, saintly\nmothers, who, in leading along their little flock, follow nearest in\nthe footsteps of Jesus.\n\nJesus trusted more to personal love, in forming his church, than to\nany other force. The power of love in developing the intellect and\nexciting the faculties is marked, even on the inferior animals. The\ndog is changed by tender treatment and affectionate care; he becomes\nhalf human, and seems to struggle to rise out of the brute nature\ntoward a beloved master. Rude human natures are correspondingly\nchanged, and he who has great power of loving and exciting love may\nalmost create anew whom he will.\n\nJesus, that guest from brighter worlds, brought to this earth the\nnobler ideas of love, the tenderness, the truth, the magnanimity,\nthat are infinite in the All-Loving. What of God could be expressed\nand understood by man He was, and St. John says of his ethereal\ngentleness and sweetness of nature: \"The light shined in the\ndarkness and the darkness comprehended it not.\"\n\nThe varieties of natural character in this family of Jesus were\nsuch as to give most of the usual differences of human beings. The\nMaster's object was to unite them to each other by such a love that\nthey should move by a single impulse, as one human being, and that\nwhat was lacking in one might be made up by what was abundant in\nanother. As He expressed it in his last prayer: \"That they all may\nbe one, as Thou, Father, art in me and I in Thee, that they also may\nbe one in us: that the world may believe that Thou hast sent me.\"\n\nHow diverse were the elements! Simon Peter, self-confident,\nenthusiastic, prompt to speak and to decide. Thomas, slow and easily\ndisheartened; always deficient in hope, and inclined to look upon\nthe dark side, yet constant unto death in his affections. James and\nJohn, young men of the better class, belonging to a rich family,\non terms of intimate acquaintance with the High Priest. Of these\nbrothers, John is the idealist and the poet of the little band,\nbut far from being the weak and effeminate character painters\nand poets have generally conceived. James and John were surnamed\nBoanerges--\"sons of thunder.\" They were the ones who wanted to call\ndown fire on the village that refused to receive their Lord. It\nwas they who joined in the petition preferred by their mother for\nthe seat of honor in the future kingdom. Young, ardent, impetuous,\nfull of fire and of that susceptibility to ambition which belongs\nto high-strung and vivid organizations, their ardor was like a\nflame, that might scorch and burn as well as vivify. Then there\nwas Matthew, the prosaic, the exact matter-of-fact man, whose call\nit was to write what critics have called the _bodily gospel_ of\nour Lord's life, as it was that of John to present the inner heart\nof Jesus. These few salient instances show the strong and marked\ndiversities of temperament and character which Jesus proposed to\nunite into one whole, by an intense personal love which should melt\ndown all angles, and soften asperities, and weld and blend the most\ndiscordant elements. It is the more remarkable that he undertook\nthis task with men in mature life, and who had already been settled\nin several callings, and felt the strain of all those causes which\nexcite the individual self-love of man.\n\nIn guiding all these, we can but admire the perfect tolerance of\nthe Master toward the wants of each varying nature. Tolerance for\nindividual character is about the last Christian grace that comes\nto flower in family or church. Much of the raspings, and gratings,\nand complaints in family and church are from the habit of expecting\nand exacting that people should be what they never were made to be.\nOur Lord did not reprove Thomas for being a despondent doubter,\nbeset by caution even when he most longed to believe. He graciously\ngranted the extremest test which his hopeless nature required--he\nsuffered him to put his finger in the print of the nails and to\nexamine the wounded side; and there is but a tender shadow of a\nreproof in what he said--\"Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou\nhast believed; blessed are they that have not seen and yet have\nbelieved.\" In our day there are many disciples of Thomas, loving\ndoubters, who would give their hearts' blood to fully believe in\nthis risen Jesus; they would willingly put their hands in the print\nof the nails; and for them the Master has a spiritual presence and\na convincing nearness, if they will but seek it. So, again, we\nnotice the tender indulgence with which the self-confident Peter is\nlistened to as he always interposes his opinion. We think we can\nsee the Master listening with a grave smile, as a mother to her\neldest and most self-confident boy. Sometimes he warmly commends,\nand sometimes he bears down on him with a sharpness of rebuke which\nwould have annihilated a softer nature. When Peter officiously\ncounsels worldly expediency, and the avoidance of the sufferings\nfor which Jesus came, the reply is sharp as lightning: \"Get thee\nbehind me, Satan; thou art an offence unto me; for thou savorest\nnot the things of God, but those that be of man.\" Yet we can see\nthat the Master knows his man, and knows just how hard to strike.\nThat eager, combative, self-confident nature not only can bear sharp\ntreatment, but must have it at times, or never come to anything. We\nsee Peter's self-asserting nature spring up after it, cheerful as\never. He yields to the reproof; but he is Peter still, prompt with\nhis opinion at the next turn of affairs, and the Master would not\nfor the world have him anybody else but Peter.\n\nWe see also that it was a manner of the Master to deal with the\nconscience of his children, and rebuke their faults without\nexposing them to the censure of others. When he saw that the sin\nof covetousness was growing upon Judas, leading to dishonesty, he\ncombated it by the most searching and stringent teaching. \"Beware\nof covetousness, for a man's life consisteth not in the things that\nhe possesseth;\" this and other passages, which will be more fully\nconsidered in another chapter, would seem to have been all warnings\nto Judas, if he would but have listened.\n\nSo, too, his tenderness for John, whom tradition reports to have\nbeen the youngest of the disciples, marked a delicate sense of\ncharacter. To lean on his bosom was not sought by Matthew or Thomas,\nthough both loved him supremely; it fell to the lot of John,--as in\na family flock, where one, the youngest and tenderest, is always\nfound silently near the mother; the others smile to see him always\nthere, and think it well. There are in St. John's narrative touches\nof that silent accord between him and Jesus, that comprehension\nwithout words, which comes between natures strung alike to sympathy.\nTo him Jesus commended his mother, as the nearest earthly substitute\nfor himself. Yet, after all, when for this one so dear, so accordant\nwith his own personal feelings, a request was made for station and\nhonor in the heavenly kingdom, he promptly refused. His personal\naffection for his friends was to have no undue influence in that\nrealm of things which belonged to the purely divine disposal. \"The\nkingdom of heaven is _within_ you,\" he taught; and John's place in\nthe spiritual domain must depend upon John's own spirit.\n\nThere is one trait in the character of these chosen disciples of\nChrist which is worth a special thought. They were not, as we\nhave seen, in any sense remarkable men intellectually, but they\nhad one preparation for the work for which Jesus chose them which\nhas not been a common one, either then or since. They were wholly\nconsecrated to God. It is not often we meet with men capable of\nan entire self-surrender; these men were. They were so entirely\ndevoted to God that, when Jesus called on them to give up their\nworldly callings and forsake all they had, to follow him, they\nobeyed without a question or a hesitating moment. How many men\nshould we find in the church now that would do the same? Christ\nproposed this test to one young ruler,--amiable, reverent, moral,\nand religious,--and he \"went away sad.\" He could do a great deal for\nGod, but he could not _give up_ ALL. Christ's disciples gave ALL\nto him, and therefore he gave ALL to them. Therefore he gave them\nto share his throne and his glory. The Apocalyptic vision showed\ngraven on the foundations of the golden city the names of the twelve\nApostles of the Lamb, those true-hearted men who were not only to be\nthe founders of his church on earth, but were, while he was yet in\nthe flesh, his daily companions, his friends, \"his own.\"\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nCHRIST'S UNWORLDLY METHODS\n\n\nWe are struck, in the history of our Lord, with the unworldliness\nof his manner of living his daily life and fulfilling his great\ncommission. It is emphatically true, in the history of Jesus, that\nhis ways are not as our ways, and his thoughts as our thoughts.\nHe did not choose the disciples of his first ministry as worldly\nwisdom would have chosen them. Though men of good and honest hearts,\nthey were neither the most cultured nor the most influential of his\nnation. We should have said that men of the standing of Joseph of\nArimathea or Nicodemus were preferable, other things being equal, to\nPeter the fisherman or Matthew the tax-gatherer; but Jesus thought\notherwise.\n\nAnd, furthermore, he sometimes selected those apparently most\nunlikely to further his ends. Thus, when he had a mission of mercy\nin view for Samaria, he called to the work a woman; not such as we\nshould suppose a divine teacher would choose,--not a pre\u00ebminently\nintellectual or a very good woman,--but, on the contrary, one of a\ncareless life, and loose morals, and little culture. The history\nof this person, of the way in which he sought her acquaintance,\narrested her attention, gained access to her heart, and made of\nher a missionary to draw the attention of her people to him, is\nwonderfully given by St. John. We have the image of a woman--such\nas many are, social, good-humored, talkative, and utterly without\nany high moral sense--approaching the well, where she sees this\nweary Jew reclining to rest himself. He introduces himself to her\nacquaintance by asking a favor,--the readiest way to open the heart\nof a woman of that class. She is evidently surprised that he will\nspeak to her, being a Jew, and she a daughter of a despised and\nhated race. \"How is it,\" she says, \"that thou, a Jew, askest drink\nof me, a woman of Samaria?\" Jesus now answers her in that symbolic\nand poetic strain which was familiar with him: \"If thou knewest\nthe gift of God, and who this is that asketh drink of thee, thou\nwouldst ask of him, and he would give thee living water.\" The woman\nsees in this only the occasion for a lively rejoinder: \"Sir, thou\nhast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep; from whence then\nhast thou that living water?\" With that same mysterious air, as if\nspeaking unconsciously from out some higher sphere, he answers,\n\"Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again; but whosoever\nshall drink of the water that I shall give shall never thirst. The\nwater that I shall give shall be a well in him springing up to\neverlasting life.\"\n\nImpressed strangely by the words of the stranger, she answers\nconfusedly, \"Sir, give me this water, that I thirst not, neither\ncome hither to draw.\" There is a feeble attempt at a jest struggling\nwith the awe which is growing upon her. Jesus now touches the vital\nspot in her life. \"Go, call thy husband and come hither.\" She said,\n\"I have no husband.\" He answers, \"Well hast thou said I have no\nhusband; thou hast had five husbands, and he thou now hast is not\nthy husband; in that saidst thou truly.\"\n\nThe stern, grave chastity of the Jew, his reverence for marriage,\nstrike coldly on the light-minded woman accustomed to the easy\ntolerance of a low state of society. She is abashed, and hastily\nseeks to change the subject: \"Sir, I see thou art a prophet;\" and\nthen she introduces the controverted point of the two liturgies and\ntemples of Samaria and Jerusalem,--not the first nor the last was\nshe of those who seek relief from conscience by discussing doctrinal\ndogmas. Then, to our astonishment, Jesus proceeds to declare to\nthis woman of light mind and loose morality the sublime doctrines\nof spiritual worship, to predict the new era which is dawning on\nthe world: \"Woman, believe me, the hour cometh when neither in this\nmountain nor yet in Jerusalem shall ye worship the Father. The hour\ncometh and now is when the true worshipper shall worship the Father\nin spirit and in truth, for the Father seeketh such to worship\nhim. God is a Spirit, and they that worship him must worship him\nin spirit and in truth.\" Then, in a sort of confused awe at his\nearnestness, the woman said, \"I know that Messiah shall come, and\nwhen he is come he will tell us all things.\" Jesus saith unto her,\n\"I that speak unto thee am he.\"\n\nAt this moment the disciples returned. With their national\nprejudices, it was very astonishing, as they drew nigh, to see that\ntheir Master was in close and earnest conversation with a Samaritan\nwoman. Nevertheless, when the higher and godlike in Jesus was fully\nenkindled, the light and fire were such as to awe them. They saw\nthat he was in an exalted mood, which they dared not question. All\nthe infinite love of the Saviour, the shepherd of souls, was awaking\nwithin him; the soul whom he has inspired with a new and holy\ncalling is leaving him on a mission that is to bring crowds to his\nlove. The disciples pray him to eat, but he is no longer hungry, no\nlonger thirsty, no longer weary; he exults in the gifts that he is\nready to give, and the hearts that are opening to receive.\n\nThe disciples pray him, \"Master, eat.\" He said, \"I have meat to eat\nthat ye know not of.\" They question in an undertone, \"Hath any one\nbrought him aught to eat?\" He answers, \"My meat and my drink is to\ndo the will of Him that sent me, and to finish his work.\" Then,\npointing towards the city, he speaks impassioned words of a harvest\nwhich is at hand; and they wonder.\n\nBut meanwhile the woman, with the eagerness and bright, social\nreadiness which characterize her, is calling to her townsmen, \"Come,\nsee a man that told me all that ever I did. Is not this the Christ?\"\n\nWhat followed on this? A crowd press out to see the wonder. Jesus\nis invited as an honored guest; he spends two days in the city, and\ngathers a band of disciples.\n\nAfter the resurrection of Jesus, we find further fruits of the\nharvest sown by a chance interview of Jesus with this woman. In the\neighth of Acts we read of the ingathering of a church in a city of\nSamaria, where it is said that \"the people, with one accord, gave\nheed to the things spoken by Philip, and there was great joy in that\ncity.\"\n\nOne thing in this story impresses us strongly,--the power which\nJesus had to touch the divinest capabilities in the unlikeliest\nsubjects. He struck at once and directly for what was highest and\nnoblest in souls where it lay most hidden. As physician of souls he\nappealed directly to the vital moral force, and it acted under his\ntouch. He saw the higher nature in this woman, and as one might draw\na magnet over a heap of rubbish and bring out pure metal, so he from\nthis careless, light-minded, good-natured, unprincipled creature\nbrought out the suppressed and hidden yearning for a better and\nhigher life. She had no prejudices to keep, no station to preserve;\nshe was even to her own low moral sense consciously a sinner, and\nshe was ready at the kind and powerful appeal to leave all and\nfollow him.\n\nWe have no further history of her. She is living now somewhere; but\nwherever she may be, we may be quite sure she never has forgotten\nthe conversation at the well in Samaria, and the man who \"told her\nall that ever she did.\"\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nCHRIST AND THE FALLEN WOMAN\n\n\nThe absolute divinity of Jesus, the height at which he stood above\nall men, is nowhere so shown as in what he dared and did for woman,\nand the godlike consciousness of authority with which he did it. It\nwas at a critical period in his ministry, when all eyes were fixed\non him in keen inquiry, when many of the respectable classes were\nyet trembling in the balance whether to accept his claims or not,\nthat Jesus in the calmest and most majestic manner took the ground\nthat the sins of a fallen woman were like any other sins, and that\nrepentant love entitled to equal forgiveness. The story so wonderful\ncan be told only in the words of the sacred narrative:--\n\n     \"And one of the Pharisees desired him that he would eat with\n     him, and he went into the Pharisee's house and sat down to meat.\n     And behold a woman in that city which was a sinner, when she\n     knew that Jesus sat at meat in the Pharisee's house, brought\n     an alabaster box of ointment, and stood at his feet behind\n     him, weeping, and began to wash his feet with tears, and did\n     wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet and\n     anointed them with the ointment. Now when the Pharisee which had\n     bidden him saw it, he spake within himself, saying, This man, if\n     he were a prophet, would have known who and what manner of woman\n     this is, for she is a sinner. And Jesus answering said unto\n     him, Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee. He said unto him,\n     Master, say on. There was a certain creditor had two debtors;\n     the one owed him five hundred pence and the other fifty, and\n     when they had nothing to pay he frankly forgave them both. Tell\n     me, therefore, which will love him most. Simon answered and\n     said, I suppose he to whom he forgave most. And he said unto\n     him, Thou hast rightly judged. And he turned to the woman and\n     said unto Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered into thy house\n     and thou gavest me no water for my feet, but she hath washed my\n     feet with tears and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou\n     gavest me no kiss, but this woman, since the time I came in,\n     hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil thou didst not\n     anoint, but she hath anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore,\n     I say unto you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven her, for\n     she loved much; but to whom little is forgiven the same loveth\n     little. And he said unto her, Thy sins are forgiven. And they\n     that sat at meat began to say within themselves, Who is this\n     that forgiveth sins also? And he said to the woman, Thy faith\n     hath saved thee; go in peace.\"\n\nNothing can be added to the pathos and solemn dignity of this\nstory, in which our Lord assumed with tranquil majesty the rights\nto supreme love possessed by the Creator, and his sovereign power\nto forgive sins and dispense favors. The repentant Magdalene became\nhenceforth one of the characteristic figures in the history of the\nChristian Church. Mary Magdalene became eventually a prominent\ncharacter in the mythic legends of the medi\u00e6val mythology. A long\nhistory of missionary labors and enthusiastic preaching of the\ngospel in distant regions of the earth is ascribed to her. Churches\narose that bore her name, hymns were addressed to her. Even the\nreforming Savonarola addresses one of his spiritual canticles to St.\nMary Magdalene. The various pictures of her which occur in every\npart of Europe are a proof of the interest which these legends\ninspired. The most of them are wild and poetic, and exhibit a\nstriking contrast to the concise brevity and simplicity of the New\nTestament story.\n\nThe mythic legends make up a romance in which Mary the sister of\nMartha and Mary Magdalene the sinner are oddly considered as the\nsame person. It is sufficient to read the chapter in St. John which\ngives an account of the raising of Lazarus, to perceive that such a\nconfusion is absurd. Mary and Martha there appear as belonging to\na family in good standing to which many flocked with expressions\nof condolence and respect in time of affliction. And afterwards,\nin that grateful feast made for the restoration of their brother,\nwe read that so many flocked to the house that the jealousy of\nthe chief priests was excited. All these incidents, representing\na family of respectability, are entirely inconsistent with any\nsuch supposition. But while we repudiate this extravagance of the\ntradition, there does seem ground for identifying the Mary Magdalene\nwho was one of the most devoted followers of our Lord with the\nforgiven sinner of this narrative. We read of a company of women who\nfollowed Jesus and ministered to him. In the eighth chapter of Luke\nhe is said to be accompanied by \"certain women which had been healed\nof evil spirits and infirmities,\" among whom is mentioned \"Mary\ncalled Magdalene,\" as having been a victim of demoniacal possession.\nSome women of rank and fortune also are mentioned as members of\nthe same company: \"Joanna the wife of Chusa, Herod's steward, and\nSusanna, and many others who ministered to him of their substance.\"\nA modern commentator thinks it improbable that Mary Magdalene could\nbe identified with the \"sinner\" spoken of by St. Luke, because women\nof standing like Joanna and Susanna would not have received one of\nher class to their company. We ask why not? If Jesus had received\nher, had forgiven and saved her; if _he_ acknowledged previously her\ngrateful ministrations,--is it likely that they would reject her? It\nwas the very peculiarity and glory of the new kingdom that it had a\nbetter future for sinners, and for sinful woman as well as sinful\nman. Jesus did not hesitate to say to the proud and prejudiced\nreligious aristocracy of his day, \"The publicans and harlots go\ninto the kingdom of heaven before you.\" We cannot doubt that\nthe loving Christian women who ministered to Jesus received this\npenitent sister as a soul absolved and purified by the sovereign\nword of their Lord, and henceforth there was for her a full scope\nfor that ardent, self-devoting power of her nature which had been\nher ruin, and was now to become her salvation.\n\nSome commentators seem to think that the dreadful demoniacal\npossession which was spoken of in Mary Magdalene proves her not\nto have been identical with the woman of St. Luke. But, on the\ncontrary, it would seem exactly to account for actions of a strange\nand unaccountable wickedness, for a notoriety in crime that went far\nto lead the Pharisees to feel that her very touch was pollution. The\nstory is symbolic of what is too often seen in the fall of woman. A\nnoble and beautiful nature wrecked through inconsiderate prodigality\nof love, deceived, betrayed, ruined, often drifts like a shipwrecked\nbark into the power of evil spirits. Rage, despair, revenge,\ncruelty, take possession of the crushed ruin that should have been\nthe home of the sweetest affections. We are not told when or where\nthe healing word was spoken that drove the cruel fiends from Mary's\nsoul. Perhaps before she entered the halls of the Pharisee, while\nlistening to the preaching of Jesus, the madness and despair had\nleft her. We can believe that in his higher moods virtue went from\nhim, and there was around him a holy and cleansing atmosphere from\nwhich all evil fled away,--a serene and healing purity which calmed\nthe throbbing fever of passion and gave the soul once more the image\nof its better self.\n\nWe see in the manner in which Mary found her way to the feet of\nJesus the directness and vehemence, the uncalculating self-sacrifice\nand self-abandon, of one of those natures which, when they move,\nmove with a rush of undivided impulse; which, when they love, trust\nall, believe all, and are ready to sacrifice all. As once she had\nlost herself in this self-abandonment, so now at the feet of her God\nshe gains all by the same power of self-surrender.\n\nWe do not meet Mary Magdalene again till we find her at the foot\nof the cross, sharing the last anguish of our Lord and his mother.\nWe find her watching the sepulchre, preparing sweet spices for\nembalming. In the dim gray of the resurrection morning she is there\nagain, only to find the sepulchre open and the beloved form gone.\nEverything in this last scene is in consistency with the idea of\nthe passionate self-devotion of a nature whose sole life is in its\nlove. The disciples, when they found not the body, went away; but\nMary stood without at the sepulchre weeping, and as she wept she\nstooped down and looked into the sepulchre. The angel said to her,\n\"Woman, why weepest thou? She answered, Because they have taken away\nmy Lord, and I know not where they have laid him.\" She then turns\nand sees through her tears dimly the form of a man standing there.\n\"Jesus saith unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou?\nShe, supposing him to be the gardener, saith unto him, Sir, if thou\nhave borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will\ngo and take him away. Jesus saith unto her, Mary! She turned herself\nand said unto him, Rabboni,--Master!\"\n\nIn all this we see the characteristic devotion and energy of her who\nloved much because she was forgiven much. It was the peculiarity\nof Jesus that he saw the precious capability of every nature, even\nin the very dust of defilement. The power of devoted love is the\ncrown jewel of the soul, and Jesus had the eye to see where it lay\ntrampled in the mire, and the strong hand to bring it forth purified\nand brightened. It is the deepest malignity of Satan to degrade and\nruin souls through love. It is the glory of Christ, through love, to\nredeem and restore.\n\nIn the history of Christ as a teacher, it is remarkable that, while\nhe was an object of enthusiastic devotion to so many women, while\na band of them followed his preaching and ministered to his wants\nand those of his disciples, yet there was about him something so\nentirely unworldly, so sacredly high and pure, that even the very\nsuggestion of scandal in this regard is not to be found in the\nbitterest vituperations of his enemies of the first two centuries.\n\nIf we compare Jesus with Socrates, the moral teacher most frequently\nspoken of as approaching him, we shall see a wonderful contrast.\nSocrates associated with courtesans, without passion and without\nreproof, in a spirit of half-sarcastic, philosophic tolerance. No\nquickening of the soul of woman, no call to a higher life, came from\nhim. Jesus is stern and grave in his teachings of personal purity,\nsevere in his requirements. He was as intolerant to sin as he was\nmerciful to penitence. He did not extenuate the sins he forgave.\nHe declared the sins of Mary to be _many_ in the same breath that\nhe pronounced her pardon. He said to the adulterous woman whom he\nprotected, \"Go, sin no more.\" The penitents who joined the company\nof his disciples were so raised above their former selves, that,\ninstead of being the shame, they were the glory of the new kingdom.\nSt. Paul says to the first Christians, speaking of the adulterous\nand impure, \"Such were some of you, but ye are washed, but ye are\nsanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and\nby the Spirit of God.\"\n\nThe tradition of the church that Mary Magdalene was an enthusiastic\npreacher of Jesus seems in keeping with all we know of the strength\nand fervor of her character. Such love must find expression, and\nwe are told that when the first persecution scattered the little\nchurch at Jerusalem, \"they that were scattered went everywhere,\npreaching the word.\" Some of the most effective preaching of\nChrist is that of those who testify in their own person of a great\nsalvation. \"He can save to the uttermost, for he has saved me,\" is\na testimony that often goes more straight to the heart than all the\narguments of learning. Christianity had this peculiarity over all\nother systems, that it not only forgave the past, but made of its\nbitter experiences a healing medicine; so that those who had sinned\ndeepest might have therefrom a greater redeeming power. \"When thou\nart converted, strengthen thy brethren,\" was the watchword of the\npenitent.\n\nThe wonderful mind of Goethe has seized upon and embodied this\npeculiarity of Christianity in his great poem of \"Faust.\" The first\npart shows the Devil making of the sweetest and noblest affection of\nthe confiding Margaret a cruel poison to corrupt both body and soul.\nWe see her driven to crime, remorse, shame, despair, all human forms\nand forces of society united to condemn her, when with a last cry\nshe stretches her poor hands to heaven and says, \"Judgment of God, I\ncommend myself to you;\" and then falls a voice from heaven, \"She is\njudged; she is saved.\"\n\nIn the second part we see the world-worn, weary Faust passing\nthrough the classic mythology, vainly seeking rest and finding\nnone; he seeks rest in a life of benevolence to man, but fiends\nof darkness conflict with his best aspirations, and dog his steps\nthrough life, and in his dying hour gather round to seize his soul\nand carry it to perdition. But around him is a shining band. Mary\nthe mother of Jesus with a company of purified penitents encircle\nhim, and his soul passes, in infantine weakness, to the guardian\narms of Margaret,--once a lost and ruined woman, now a strong and\npitiful angel,--who, like a tender mother, leads the new-born soul\nto look upon the glories of heaven, while angel voices sing to the\nvictory of good over evil:--\n\n    \"All that is transient\n    Is but a parable;\n    The unattainable\n    Here is made real.\n    The indescribable\n    Here is accomplished;\n    The eternal womanly\n    Draws us upward and onward.\"\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\nTHE REVEALER OF GOD'S SYMPATHY\n\n\nThe interest inspired by the wonderful character of Jesus rests\nespecially on those incidents which are most purely human, his\nprivate, personal friendships, his keen sympathy with the suffering\nand the afflicted. Among these incidents the story and characters\nof the two sisters, Martha and Mary, have been set before us with\na fine individualism of dramatic representation that seems to make\nthem real to us, even at this distance of time.\n\nThe two sisters of Bethany have had for ages a name and a living\npower in the church. Thousands of hearts have throbbed with theirs;\nthousands have wept sympathetic tears in their sorrows and rejoiced\nin their joy. By a few simple touches in the narrative they are\nso delicately and justly discriminated that they stand for the\nrepresentatives of two distinct classes. Some of the ancient\nChristian writers considered them as types of the active and the\ncontemplative aspects of religion. Martha is viewed as the secular\nChristian, serving God in and through the channels of worldly\nbusiness, and Mary as the more peculiarly religious person, devoted\nto a life of holy meditation and the researches of heavenly truth.\nThe two were equally the friends of Jesus. Apparently, the two\nsisters with one brother were an orphan family, united by the\nstrongest mutual affection, and affording a circle peculiarly\ncongenial to the Master.\n\nThey inhabited a rural home just outside of Jerusalem; and it seems\nthat here, after the labors of a day spent in teaching in the\ncity, our Lord found at evening a homelike retreat where he could\nenjoy perfect quiet and perfect love. It would seem, from many\ntouches in the Gospel narrative, as if Jesus, amid the labors and\napplauses and successes of a public life, yearned for privacy and\ndomesticity,--for that home love which he persistently renounced to\ngive himself wholly to mankind. There is a shade of pathos in his\nanswer to one who proposed to be his disciple and dwell with him:\n\"Foxes have holes; the birds of the air have nests; but the Son of\nman hath not where to lay his head.\" This little orphan circle, with\ntheir quiet home, were thus especially dear to him, and it appears\nthat this was his refuge during that last week of his life, when he\nknew that every day was bringing him nearer to the final anguish.\n\nIt is wonderful how sharply and truly, in a narrative so brief,\nthe characters of Martha and Mary are individualized. Martha,\nin her Jud\u00e6an dress and surroundings, is, after all, exactly\nsuch a good woman as is often seen in our modern life,--a woman\nprimarily endowed with the faculties necessary for getting on in\nthe world, yet sincerely religious. She is energetic, businesslike,\nmatter-of-fact, strictly orthodox, and always ready for every\nemergency. She lives in the present life strongly and intensely, and\nher religion exhibits itself through regular forms and agencies.\nShe believes in the future life orthodoxly, and is always prompt\nto confess its superior importance as a matter of doctrine, though\nprone to make material things the first in practice. Many such\nwomen there are in the high places of the Christian Church, and\nmuch good they do. They manage fairs, they dress churches, they\nget up religious festivals, their names are on committees, they\nare known at celebrations. They rule their own homes with activity\nand diligence, and they are justly honored by all who know them.\nNow, nothing is more remarkable in the history of Jesus than the\ncatholicity of his appreciation of character. He never found fault\nwith natural organization, or expected all people to be of one\npattern. He did not break with Thomas for being naturally a cautious\ndoubter, or Peter for being a precipitate believer; and it is\nspecially recorded in the history of this family that Jesus loved\nMartha. He understood her, he appreciated her worth, and he loved\nher.\n\nIn Mary we see the type of those deeper and more sensitive natures\nwho ever aspire above and beyond the material and temporal to the\neternal and divine; souls that are seeking and inquiring with a\nrestlessness that no earthly thing can satisfy, who can find no\npeace until they find it in union with God.\n\nIn St. Luke we have a record of the manner in which the first\nacquaintance with this family was formed. This historian says:\n\"A woman named Martha received him at her house.\" Evidently the\ndecisive and salient power of her nature caused her to be regarded\nas mistress of the family. There was a grown-up brother in the\nfamily; but this house is not called the house of Lazarus, but the\nhouse of Martha--a form of speaking the more remarkable from the\ngreat superiority or leadership which ancient customs awarded to the\nmale sex. But Martha was one of those natural leaders whom everybody\ninstinctively thinks of as the head of any house they may happen to\nbelong to. Her tone toward Mary is authoritative. The Mary-nature\nis a nature apt to appear to disadvantage in physical things. It\nis often puzzled, and unskilled, and unready in the details and\nemergencies of a life like ours, which so little meets its deepest\nfeelings and most importunate wants. It acquires skill in earthly\nthings only as a matter of discipline and conscience, but is always\nyearning above them to something higher and divine. A delicacy\nof moral nature suggests to such a person a thousand scruples\nof conscientious inquiry in every turn of life, which embarrass\ndirectness of action. To the Martha-nature, practical, direct, and\nprosaic, all these doubts, scruples, hesitations, and unreadinesses\nappear only as pitiable weaknesses.\n\nAgain, Martha's nature attaches a vast importance to many things\nwhich, in the view of Mary, are so fleeting and perishable, and have\nso little to do with the deeper immortal wants of the soul, that it\nis difficult for her even to remember and keep them in sight. The\nrequirements of etiquette, the changes and details of fashion, the\nthousand particulars which pertain to keeping up a certain footing\nin society and a certain position in the world--all these Martha has\nat her fingers' ends. They are the breath of her nostrils, while\nMary is always forgetting, overlooking, and transgressing them.\nMany a Mary has escaped into a convent, or joined a sisterhood, or\nworn the plain dress of the Quaker in order that she might escape\nfrom the exaction of the Marthas of her day, \"careful [or, more\nliterally, _full of care_] and troubled about many things.\"\n\nIt appears that in her way Martha was a religious woman, a sincere\nmember of the Jewish Church, and an intense believer. The preaching\nof Christ was the great religious phenomenon of the times, and\nMartha, Mary, and Lazarus joined the crowd who witnessed his\nmiracles and listened to his words. Both women accepted his message\nand believed his Messiahship--Martha, from the witness of his\nsplendid miracles; Mary, from the deep accord of her heart with\nthe wonderful words he had uttered. To Martha he was the King that\nshould reign in splendor at Jerusalem, and raise their nation to an\nuntold height of glory; to Mary he was the answer to the eternal\nquestion--the Way, the Truth, the Life, for which she had been\nalways longing.\n\nAmong many who urge and press hospitality, Martha's invitation\nprevails. A proud home is that, when Jesus follows her--her prize,\nher captive. The woman in our day who has captured in her net of\nhospitalities the orator, the poet, the warrior--the star of all\neyes, the central point of all curiosity, desire, and regard--can\nbest appreciate Martha's joy. She will make an entertainment\nthat will do credit to the occasion. She revolves prodigies of\nhospitality. She invites guests to whom her Acquisition shall\nbe duly exhibited, and all is hurry, bustle, and commotion. But\nMary follows him, silent, with a fluttering heart. His teaching\nhas aroused the divine longing, the immortal pain, to a throbbing\nintensity; a sweet presentiment fills her soul, that she is near One\nthrough whom the way into the Holiest is open, and now is the hour.\nShe neither hears nor sees the bustle of preparation; but apart,\nwhere the Master has seated himself, she sits down at his feet, and\nher eyes, more than her voice, address to him that question and that\nprayer which are the question and the one great reality of all this\nfleeting, mortal life.\n\nThe question is answered; the prayer is granted. At his feet she\nbecomes spiritually clairvoyant. The way to God becomes clear and\nopen. Her soul springs toward the light; is embraced by the peace of\nGod that passeth understanding. It is a soul-crisis, and the Master\nsees that in that hour his breath has unfolded into blossom buds\nthat had been struggling in darkness. Mary has received in her bosom\nthe \"white stone with the new name, which no man knoweth save him\nthat receiveth it,\" and of which Jesus only is the giver. As Master\nand disciple sit in that calm and sweet accord, in which giver and\nreceiver are alike blessed, suddenly Martha appears and breaks into\nthe interview, in a characteristically imperative sentence: \"Lord,\ndost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? Bid\nher, therefore, that she help me.\"\n\nNothing could more energetically indicate Martha's character than\nthis sentence. It shows her blunt sincerity, her conscientious,\nmatter-of-fact worldliness, and her dictatorial positiveness.\nEvidently, here is a person accustomed to having her own way and\nbearing down all about her; a person who believes in herself without\na doubt, and is so positive that her way is the only right one that\nshe cannot but be amazed that the Master has not at once seen as\nshe does. To be sure, this is in her view the Christ, the Son of\nGod, the King of Israel, the human being whom in her deepest heart\nshe reverences; but no matter, she is so positive that she is right\nthat she does not hesitate to say her say, and make her complaint\nof him as well as of her sister. People like Martha often arraign\nand question the very providence of God itself when it stands in\nthe way of their own plans. Martha is sure of her ground. Here is\nthe Messiah, the King of Israel, at her house, and she is getting\nup an entertainment worthy of him, slaving herself to death for\nhim, and he takes no notice, and most inconsiderately allows her\ndreamy sister to sit listening to him, instead of joining in the\npreparation.\n\nThe reply of Jesus went, as his replies were wont to do, to the very\nroot-fault of Martha's life, the fault of all such natures: \"Martha,\nMartha! thou art careful and troubled about many things, but _one_\nthing is needful, and Mary hath chosen that good part which shall\nnot be taken from her.\" The Master's words evidently recognize\nthat in that critical hour Mary had passed a boundary in her soul\nhistory, and made an attainment of priceless value. She had gained\nsomething that could never be taken from her; and she had gained it\nby that single-hearted devotion to spiritual things which made her\nprompt to know and seize the hour of opportunity.\n\nThe brief narrative there intermits; we are not told how Martha\nreplied, or what are the results of this plain, tender faithfulness\nof reproof. The Saviour, be it observed, did not blame Martha for\nher nature. He did not blame her for not being Mary; but he did\nblame her for not restraining and governing her own nature and\nkeeping it in due subjection to higher considerations. A being\nof brighter worlds, he stood looking on Martha's life,--on her\nactivities and bustle and care; and to him how sorrowfully worthless\nthe greater part of them appeared! To him they were mere toys and\nplaythings, such as a child is allowed to play with in the earlier,\nundeveloped hours of existence; not to be harshly condemned, but\nstill utterly fleeting and worthless in the face of the tremendous\neternal realities, the glories and the dangers of the eternal state.\n\nIt must be said here that all we know of our Lord leads us to\nfeel that he was not encouraging and defending in Mary a selfish,\nsentimental indulgence in her own cherished emotions and affections,\nleaving the burden of necessary care on a sister who would have been\nequally glad to sit at Jesus' feet. That was not his reading of\nthe situation. It was that Martha, engrossed in a thousand cares,\nburdened herself with a weight of perplexities of which there was\nno need, and found no time and had no heart to come to him and\nspeak of the only, the one thing that endures beyond the present\nworld. To how many hearts does this reproof apply? How many who call\nthemselves Christians are weary, wasted, worn, drained of life,\ninjured in health, fretted in temper, by a class of anxieties so\npurely worldly that they can never bring them to Christ, or if they\ndo, would meet first and foremost his tender reproof, \"Thou art\ncareful and troubled about many things; there is but _one_ thing\nreally needful. Seek that good part which shall never be taken away.\"\n\nWhat fruit this rebuke bore will appear as we further pursue the\nhistory of the sister. The subsequent story shows that Martha was\na brave, sincere, good woman, capable of yielding to reproof and\nacknowledging a fault. There is precious material in such, if only\ntheir powers be turned to the highest and best things.\n\nIt is an interesting thought that the human affection of Jesus for\none family has been made the means of leaving on record the most\nconsoling experience for the sorrows of bereavement that sacred\nliterature affords. Viewed merely on the natural side, the intensity\nof human affections and the frightful possibilities of suffering\ninvolved in their very sweetness present a fearful prospect when\ncompared with that stony inflexibility of natural law, which goes\nforth crushing, bruising, lacerating, without the least apparent\nfeeling for human agony.\n\nThe God of nature appears silent, unalterable, unsympathetic,\npursuing general good without a throb of pity for individual\nsuffering; and that suffering is so unspeakable, so terrible! Close\nshadowing every bridal, every cradle, is this awful possibility\nof death that may come at any moment, unannounced and inevitable.\nThe joy of this hour may become the bitterness of the next; the\nring, the curl of hair, the locket, the picture, that to-day are a\ntreasure of hope and happiness, to-morrow may be only weapons of\nbitterness that stab at every view. The silent inflexibility of God\nin upholding laws that work out such terrible agonies and suffering\nis something against which the human heart moans and chafes\nthrough all ancient literature. \"The gods envy the happy,\" was the\nconstruction put upon the problem of life as the old sages viewed\nit.\n\nBut in this second scene of the story of the sisters of Bethany\nwe have that view of God which is the only one powerful enough to\nsoothe and control the despair of the stricken heart. It says to us\nthat behind this seeming inflexibility, this mighty and most needful\nunholding of law, is a throbbing, sympathizing heart,--bearing with\nus the sorrow of this struggling period of existence, and pointing\nto a perfect fulfillment in the future.\n\nThe story opens most remarkably. In the absence of the Master, the\nbrother is stricken down with deadly disease. Forthwith a hasty\nmessenger is dispatched to Jesus. \"Lord, he whom thou lovest is\nsick.\" Here is no prayer expressed; but human language could not be\nmore full of all the elements of the best kind of prayer. It is the\nprayer of perfect trust--the prayer of love that has no shadow of\ndoubt. If only we let Jesus know we are in trouble, we are helped.\nWe need not ask, we need only say, \"He whom thou lovest is sick,\"\nand he will understand, and the work will be done. We are safe with\nhim.\n\nThen comes the seeming contradiction--the trial of faith--that\ngives this story such a value: \"Now Jesus loved Martha and her\nsister and Lazarus. When, therefore, he heard that he was sick, he\nabode two days in the same place where he was.\" Because he loved\nthem, he delayed; because he loved them, he resisted that most\ntouching appeal that heart can make,--the appeal of utter trust. We\ncan imagine the wonder, the anguish, the conflict of spirit, when\ndeath at last shut the door in the face of their prayers. Had God\nforgotten to be gracious? Had he in anger shut up his tender mercy?\nDid not Jesus love them? Had he not power to heal? Why then had he\nsuffered this? Ah! this is exactly the strait in which thousands of\nChrist's own beloved ones must stand in the future; and Mary and\nMartha, unconsciously to themselves, were suffering with Christ in\nthe great work of human consolation. Their distress and anguish and\nsorrow were necessary to work out a great experience of God's love,\nwhere multitudes of anguished hearts have laid themselves down as on\na pillow of repose, and have been comforted.\n\nSomething of this is shadowed in the Master's words: \"This sickness\nis not unto death, but for the glory of God,--that the Son of God\nmight be glorified thereby.\" What was that glory of God? Not most\nhis natural power, but his sympathetic tenderness, his loving heart.\nWhat is the glory of the Son of God? Not the mere display of power,\nbut power used to console, in manifesting to the world that this\ncruel _death_--the shadow that haunts all human life, that appalls\nand terrifies, that scatters anguish and despair--is _not_ death,\nbut the gateway of a brighter life, in which Jesus shall restore\nlove to love, in eternal reunion.\n\nIn the scene with the sisters before the Saviour arrives, we are\nstruck with the consideration in which the family is held. This\nhouse is thronged with sympathizing friends, and, as appears from\nsome incidents afterwards, friends among the higher classes of the\nnation. Martha hears of the approach of Jesus, and goes forth to\nmeet him.\n\nIn all the scene which follows we are impressed with the dignity\nand worth of Martha's character. We see in the scene of sorrow that\nMartha has been the strong, practical woman, on whom all rely in\nthe hour of sickness, and whose energy is equal to any emergency.\nWe see her unsubdued by emotion, ready to go forth to receive\nJesus, and prompt to meet the issues of the moment. We see, too,\nthat the appreciation of the worth of her character, which had led\nhim to admonish her against the materialistic tendencies of such\na nature, was justified by the fruits of that rebuke. Martha had\ngrown more spiritual by intercourse with the Master, and as she\nfalls at Jesus' feet the half-complaint which her sorrow wrings\nfrom her is here merged in the expression of her faith: \"Lord, if\nthou hadst been here my brother had not died; but I know that even\nnow, whatsoever thou wilt ask of God, God will give it to thee.\nJesus saith unto her, Thy brother shall rise again.\" Like every\nwell-trained religious Jew of her day, Martha was versed in the\ndoctrine of the general resurrection. That this belief was a more\nactively operating motive with the ancient Jewish than with the\nmodern Christian Church of our day is attested by the affecting\nhistory of the martyrdom of the mother and her seven sons, in the\nBook of Maccabees. Martha therefore makes prompt answer, \"I know\nthat he shall rise again in the resurrection at the last day.\" Jesus\nanswered her in words which no mere mortal could have uttered--words\nof a divine fullness of meaning--\"I am the Resurrection and the\nLife: he that believeth in me, though dead, shall live, and\nwhosoever believeth in me is immortal.\"\n\nIn these words he claims to be the great source of Life,--the\nabsolute Lord and Controller of all that relates to life, death, and\neternity; and he makes the appeal to Martha's faith: \"Believest thou\nthis?\" \"Yea, Lord,\" she responds, \"I believe thou art the Christ of\nGod that should come into the world.\" And then she runs and calls\nher sister secretly, saying, \"The Master is come and calleth for\nthee.\" As a majestic symphony modulates into a tender and pathetic\nminor passage, so the tone of the narrative here changes to the most\nexquisite pathos. Mary, attended by her weeping friends, comes and\nfalls at Jesus' feet, and sobs out: \"Lord, if thou hadst been here\nmy brother had not died!\"\n\nIt indicates the delicate sense of character which ever marked\nthe intercourse of our Lord, that to this helpless, heart-broken\nchild prostrate at his feet he addresses no appeal to reason or\nfaith. He felt within himself the overwhelming power of that tide\nof emotion which for the time bore down both reason and faith in\nhelpless anguish. With such sorrow there was no arguing, and Jesus\ndid not attempt argument; for the story goes on: \"When Jesus saw her\nweeping, and the Jews also weeping that came with her, he groaned in\nspirit and was troubled; and he said, Where have ye laid him? And\nthey said, Lord, come and see. Jesus wept.\" Those tears interpreted\nfor all time God's silence and apparent indifference to human\nsuffering; and wherever Christ is worshiped as the brightness of\nthe Father's glory and the express image of his person, they bear\nwitness that the God who upholds the laws that wound and divide\nhuman affections still feels with us the sorrow which he permits.\n\"In all our afflictions he is afflicted.\"\n\nAnd now came the sublime and solemn scene when he who had claimed\nto be the Resurrection and the Life made good his claim. Standing\nby the grave he called, as he shall one day call to all the dead,\n\"Lazarus, come forth!\" And here the curtain drops over the scene of\nrestoration.\n\nWe do not see this family circle again till just before the final\nscene of the great tragedy of Christ's life. The hour was at hand,\nof suffering, betrayal, rejection, denial, shame, agony, and death;\nand with the shadow of this awful cloud over his mind, Jesus comes\nfor the last time to Jerusalem. To the eye of the thoughtless,\nJesus was never so popular, so beloved, as at the moment when he\nentered the last week of his life at Jerusalem. Palm branches and\nflowers strewed his way, hosannas greeted him on every side, and\nthe chief priests and Scribes said, \"Perceive ye how ye prevail\nnothing? Behold the world is gone after him!\" But the mind of Jesus\nwas wrapped in that awful shade of the events that were so soon to\nfollow.\n\nHe passes out, after his first day in Jerusalem, to Bethany, and\ntakes refuge in this dear circle. There they make him a feast,\nand Martha serves, but Lazarus, as a restored treasure, sits at\nthe table. Then took Mary a pound of ointment, very precious, and\nanointed the head of Jesus, and anointed his feet with the ointment,\nand wiped them with her hair.\n\nThere is something in the action that marks the poetic and sensitive\nnature of Mary. Her heart was overburdened with gratitude and love.\nShe longed to give something, and how little was there that she\ncould give! She buys the most rare, the most costly of perfumes,\nbreaks the vase, and sheds it upon his head. Could she have put\nher whole life, her whole existence, into that fleeting perfume\nand poured it out for him, she gladly would have done it. That was\nwhat the action said, and what Jesus understood. Forthwith comes\nthe criticism of Judas: \"What a waste! It were better to give the\nmoney to the poor than to expend it in mere sentimentalism.\" Jesus\ndefended her with all the warmth of his nature, in words tinged with\nthe presentiment of his approaching doom: \"Let her alone; she is\ncome aforehand to anoint my body for the burial.\" Then, as if deeply\ntouched with the reality of that love which thus devoted itself to\nhim, he adds, \"Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached throughout\nthe world, there shall what this woman hath done be had in\nremembrance.\" The value set upon pure love, upon that unconsidering\ndevotion which gives its best and utmost freely and wholly, is\nexpressed in these words. A loving God seeks love; and he who thus\nspoke is he who afterward, when he appeared in glory, declared his\nabhorrence of lukewarmness in his followers: \"I would thou wert cold\nor hot; because thou art lukewarm I will spue thee out of my mouth.\"\nIt is significant of the change which had passed upon Martha that no\ncriticism of Mary's action in this case came from her. There might\nhave been a time when this inconsiderate devotion of a poetic nature\nwould have annoyed her and called out remonstrance. In her silence\nwe feel a sympathetic acquiescence.\n\nAfter this scene we meet the family no more. Doubtless the three\nwere among the early watchers upon the resurrection morning;\ndoubtless they were of the number among whom Jesus stood after the\nresurrection, saying, \"Peace be unto you;\" doubtless they were of\nthose who went out with him to the Mount of Olives when he was taken\nup into heaven; and doubtless they are now with him in glory: for it\nis an affecting thought that no human personality is ever lost or to\nbe lost. In the future ages it may be our happiness to see and know\nthose whose history has touched our hearts so deeply.\n\nOne lesson from this history we pray may be taken into every\nmourning heart. The Apostle says that Jesus upholds all things by\nthe word of his power. The laws by which accident, sickness, loss,\nand death are constantly bringing despair and sorrow to sensitive\nhearts are upheld by that same Jesus who wept at the grave of\nLazarus, and who is declared to be Jesus Christ, the same yesterday\nand forever. When we see the exceeding preciousness of human love\nin his eyes, and realize his sympathetic nature, and then remember\nthat he is RESURRECTION AND LIFE, can we not trust him with our\nbest beloved, and look to him for that hour of reunion which he has\npromised?\n\nThe doctrine of the resurrection of the body is a precious\nconcession to human weakness and human love. How dear the outward\nform of our child,--how distressing to think we shall never see it\nagain! But Christ promises we shall. Here is a mystery. St. Paul\nsays, that as the seed buried in the earth is to the new plant or\nflower, so is our present mortal body to the new immortal one that\nshall spring from it. It shall be our friend, our child, familiar\nto us with all that mysterious charm of personal identity, yet\nclothed with the life and beauty of the skies; and then the Lord God\nwill wipe away all tears from all faces.\n\n\n\n\nXVI\n\nTHE ATTRACTIVENESS OF JESUS\n\n\nThere was one great characteristic in the life of Jesus which his\nfollowers succeed in imitating less than any other, and that is a\nsingular sweetness and attractiveness which drew toward him even the\nsinful and fallen. There are the most obvious indications in all\nthe narrative that Christ's virtue was not of the repellent kind\nthat drove sinners away from him, but that there was around him a\npeculiar charm and graciousness of manner which affected the most\nuncongenial characters.\n\nWe are all familiar with a style of goodness quite the reverse of\nthis--a goodness that is terrible to evil-doers--a goodness that is\ninstinctively felt to have no sympathy with the sinner. Such was the\nvirtue of Christ's great forerunner, John the Baptist. He commanded,\nbut did not charm; the attraction that drew men toward him was\nthat of mingled fear and curiosity, but there was no tenderness in\nit. When the Scribes and Pharisees flocked to his baptism, he met\nthem with a thunderbolt: \"O generation of vipers! who hath warned\n_you_ to flee from the wrath to come?\" He declined all social joys;\nhe would not eat or drink at men's tables; he dwelt alone in the\ndeserts, appearing as a _Voice_--a voice of warning and terror! His\ndisciples were few; he took no pains to make them more.\n\nBut even this stern and rugged nature felt the charm and sweetness\nof Jesus, as something different from himself. It is very touching\nto read how the peculiar demeanor of Jesus impressed this hardy old\nwarrior: \"And looking on Jesus as he walked, he said, Behold the\nLamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world.\" The words seem\nas if they might have been said with tears in the eyes. Immediately\ntwo of his few disciples left him and followed Jesus; and he was\ncontent. \"He must increase and I must decrease,\" he said humbly. \"He\nthat is from Heaven is above all.\"\n\nWe find that Jesus loved social life and the fellowship of men.\nThough he spent the first forty days after his mission began in\nthe solitude of the desert, yet he returned from it the same\nwarm-hearted and social being as before. The first appearance that\nhe made was at a wedding-feast, and his very first miracle was\nwrought to enhance its joy. A wedding-feast in those lands meant\nmore than with us. It was not merely an hour given to festivity,\nbut lasted from three to seven days. There were large gatherings\nof relations and friends from afar; there were dances and songs,\nand every form of rejoicing; and at this particular feast in Cana\nit seems Jesus and his mother were present as honored and beloved\nguests. His gentleness and affability led his mother to feel that\nshe might perhaps gain from him an aid to the inadequate provision\nmade for the hospitality of the occasion. His reply to her has been\ndeemed abrupt and severe. That it was not so understood by his\nmother herself is evident from the fact that she did not accept it\nas a refusal, but expected a compliance, and gave orders to prepare\nfor it. It was necessary when among relatives in his family circle\nto express with great decision the idea that his miraculous powers\nwere not to be considered as in any way under the control of his\nprivate and human affections, and that he must use them only as a\nHigher Power should direct.\n\nHis presence at this wedding was significant of that divine love\nwhich ever watches over the family, and the wine that he gave\nsymbolized that cheer and support which God's ever-present love and\nsympathy pours through all the life of the household. We gather\nincidentally from many seemingly casual statements that Jesus was\noften invited to feasts in the houses of both rich and poor, and\ncheerfully accepted these invitations even on the Sabbath day.\n\nHe seems to have been also especially attractive to little children;\nhe loved them and noticed them; and it would seem from some parts of\nthe Gospel narrative as if the little ones watched for his coming\nand ran to his arms instinctively. Their artless, loving smiles,\ntheir clear, candid eyes, reminded him of that world of love where\nhe had dwelt before he came to our earth, and he said, \"Of such\nis the kingdom of heaven.\" It was the sense that he loved little\nones that led mothers to force their way with their infants through\nreproving and unsympathetic disciples; there was that about Jesus\nwhich made every mother sure that he would love her child, and that\nthe very touch of his hands would bring a blessing upon it; and when\nhis disciples treated the effort as an intrusion it is said \"Jesus\nwas much displeased.\" He did not merely accept or tolerate the\nmovement, but entered into it with warmth and enthusiasm; he did not\ncoldly lay the tips of his sacred fingers on them, but took them up\nin his arms and laid his hands on them and blessed them; he embraced\nthem and held them to his heart as something that he would make\npeculiarly his own.\n\nIt is no wonder, therefore, that Jesus was the children's favorite,\nand that on his last triumphal entrance into Jerusalem the hosannas\nof the children in the temple should have been so loud and so\npersistent as to excite the anger of the priests and Scribes. They\ncalled on him to silence the little voices, as if they felt sure\nthat he could control them by a word; but that word Jesus refused\nto speak. The voices of these young birds of paradise were dear to\nhim, and he said indignantly, \"If these were forbidden to speak the\nvery stones would cry out.\"\n\nBut still more remarkable is the fact that Jesus was attractive to a\nclass who as a general thing hate and flee from religious teachers.\nThe publicans and sinners, the disreputable and godless classes,\nfelt themselves strangely drawn to him. If we remember how intensely\nbitter was the Jewish sense of degradation in being under Roman\ntaxation, and how hardly and cruelly the office of collecting that\ntribute was often exercised, we may well think that only Jews who\ncared little for the opinions of their countrymen, and had little\ncharacter to lose, would undertake it. We know there are in all our\ncities desperate and perishing classes inhabiting regions where it\nwould be hardly safe for a reputable person to walk. Yet in regions\nlike these the pure apparition of Jesus of Nazareth walked serene,\nand all hearts were drawn to him.\n\nWhat was the charm about him, that he whose rule of morality was\nstricter than that of Scribes or Pharisees yet attracted and drew\nafter him the most abandoned classes? They saw that he loved them.\nYes, he really loved them. The infinite love of God looked through\nhis eyes, breathed in his voice, and shed a persuasive charm through\nall his words. To the intellectual and cultured men of the better\nclasses his word was, \"Ye must be born again;\" but to these poor\nwanderers he said, \"Ye may be born again. All is not lost. Purity,\nlove, a higher life, are all for you,\"--and he said it with such\nenergy, such vital warmth of sympathy, that they believed him.\nThey crowded round him and he welcomed them; they invited him to\ntheir houses and he went; he sat with them at table; he held their\nlittle ones in his arms; he gave himself to them. When the Scribes\nand Pharisees murmured at this intimacy, he answered, \"The whole\nneed not the Physician, but those that are sick; I came not to call\nthe righteous, but sinners.\" His most beautiful parables, of the\nlost sheep, the lost coin, and the Prodigal Son, were all poured\nout of the fullness of his heart for them--and what a heart! What\nnews indeed, to these lost ones, to be told that their Father cared\nfor them the more because they were lost; that he went after them\nbecause they wandered; and that all around the pure throne of God\nwere pitying eyes watching for their return, and strong hands of\nwelcome stretched out to aid them back. No wonder that the poor lost\nwoman of the street had such a courage and hope awakened in her that\nshe pressed through the sneering throng, and under the very eyes of\nScribe and Pharisee found her refuge and rest at the gracious feet\nof such a Master. No wonder that Matthew the publican rose up at\nonce from the receipt of custom and left all to follow that Jesus,\nwho had taught him that he too might be a son of God.\n\nAnd we read of one Zaccheus, a poor worldly little man, who had\nlived a hard, sharp, extortionate life, and perhaps was supposed to\nhave nothing good in him; but even he felt a singular internal stir\nand longing for something higher, awakened by this preacher, and\nwhen he heard that Jesus of Nazareth was passing he ran and climbed\na tree that he might look on him as he passed. But the gracious\nStranger paused under the tree, and a sweet, cheerful voice said,\n\"Zaccheus, make haste and come down, for to-day I must dine at thy\nhouse.\" Trembling, scarce able to believe his good fortune, we are\ntold he came down and received Jesus joyfully. Immediately, as\nflowers burst out under spring sunshine, awoke the virtues in that\nheart: \"Lord, half my goods I give to the poor, and if I have taken\nanything by false accusation I restore fourfold.\" This shows that\nthe influence of Jesus was no mere sentimental attraction, but a\nvital, spiritual force, corresponding to what was said of him: \"As\nmany as received him to them gave he power to become sons of God.\"\n\nIt is a mistake to suppose that wicked people are happy in\nwickedness. Wrong-doing is often a sorrowful chain and burden,\nand those who bear it are often despairingly conscious of their\ndegradation.\n\nJesus carried with him the power not only to heal the body but to\ncure the soul, to give the vigor of a new spiritual life, the joy\nof a sense of recovered purity. He was not merely able to say, \"Thy\nsins be forgiven thee,\" but also, \"Go in peace;\" and the peace was\nreal and permanent.\n\nAnother reason for the attractiveness of Jesus was the value he\nset on human affections. The great ones of the earth often carry\nan atmosphere about them that withers the heart with a sense of\ninsignificance. Every soul longs to be something to the object of\nits regard, and the thought, \"My love is nothing to him,\" is a\nchilling one. But Christ asked for love--valued it. No matter how\npoor, how lowly, how sinful in time past, the love of a repentant\nsoul he accepted as a priceless treasure. He set the loving sinner\nabove the cold-hearted Pharisee. He asked not only for love, but for\nintimacy--he asked for the whole heart; and there are many desolate\nones in this cheerless earth to whom it is a new life to know that a\ngodlike Being cares for their love.\n\nThe great external sufferings of Christ and the prophetic prediction\nthat he should be a \"man of sorrows\" have been dwelt upon so much\nthat we sometimes forget the many passages in the New Testament\nwhich show that the spiritual atmosphere of Christ was one of joy.\nHe brought to those that received him a sense of rest and peace and\njoy. St. John speaks of him as \"LIGHT.\" He answered those who asked\nwhy his disciples did not fast like those of John, by an image which\nshowed that his very presence made life a season of festivity: \"Can\nthe children of the bride-chamber mourn while the bridegroom is with\nthem?\" What a beautiful picture of a possible life is given in his\nteaching. God he speaks of as \"your Father.\" All the prophets and\nteachers that came before spoke of him as \"the Lord.\" Christ called\nhim simply \"THE FATHER,\" as if to intimate that Fatherhood was the\nhighest and most perfect expression of the great Invisible. He\nsaid, therefore, to the toiling race of man: \"Be not anxious, your\nFather in Heaven will take care of you. He forgets not even a little\nsparrow, and he certainly will not forget you. Go to him with all\nyour wants. You would not forget your children's prayers; and your\nFather in Heaven is better than you. Be loving, be kind, be generous\nand sweet-hearted; if men hate you, love and pray for them; and you\nwill be your Father's children.\"\n\nSee how the man Jesus, who was to his disciples the Master, Christ,\nhad power to comfort them in distress, and how not only his own\nfollowers, but also those of his great forerunner, John, were\nnaturally drawn to confide their troubles to him.\n\nThese disciples who took up the Baptist's disfigured body after\nspite and contempt and hate had done their worst on it, who paid\ntheir last tribute of reverence and respect amid the scoffs of a\njeering world, were men--men of deep emotions and keen feelings; and\nprobably at that moment every capability of feeling they had was\nfully aroused.\n\nIt appears from the first chapter of John, that he and others were\noriginally the disciples of the Baptist during the days of his\nfirst powerful ministry, and had been by him pointed to Jesus. We\nsee in other places that the Apostle John had an intense power\nof indignation, and was of that nature that longed to grasp the\nthunderbolts when he saw injustice. It was John that wanted to bring\ndown fire from heaven on the village that refused to shelter Christ,\nand can we doubt that his whole soul was moved with the most fiery\nindignation at wrong and cruelty like this? For Christ himself had\nsaid of the martyr thus sacrificed: \"Among those that are born of\nwomen there hath not risen a greater than John the Baptist.\" He had\ndone a great work; he had swayed the hearts of all his countrymen;\nhe had been the instrument of the most powerful revival of religion\nknown in his times. There had been a time when his name was in every\nmouth; when all Jerusalem and Jud\u00e6a, and beyond Jordan, thronged to\nhis ministry--even the Scribes and Pharisees joining the multitude.\nAnd now what an end of so noble a man! Seized and imprisoned at the\nbehest of an adulterous woman whose sin he had rebuked, shut up\nin prison, his ministry ended, all his power for good taken away,\nand finally finishing his life under circumstances which mark more\nthan any other could the contempt and indifference which the great\ngay world of his day had for goodness and greatness! The head of a\nnational benefactor, of a man who had lived for God and man wholly\nand devotedly from his birth, was used as a football, made the\nsubject of a court jest between the courtesan and the prince.\n\nOh that it had pleased God to give us the particulars of that\ninterview when the disciples, burning, struggling under pressure of\nthat cruel indignity, came and told Jesus! Can we imagine with what\nburning words John told of the scorn, the contempt, the barbarity\nwith which the greatest man of his time had been hurried to a bloody\ngrave? Were there not doubts--wonderings? Why did God permit it?\nWhy was not a miracle wrought, if need were, to save him? And what\ndid Jesus say to them? Oh that we knew! We would lay it up in our\nhearts, to be used when in our lesser sphere we see things going in\nthe course of this world as if God were not heeding. Of one thing we\nmay be sure. Jesus made them quiet; he calmed and rested them.\n\nAnd all that Jesus taught, he was. This life of sweet repose, of\nunruffled peace, of loving rest in an ever-present Father, he\ncarried with him as he went, everywhere warming, melting, cheering;\ninspiring joy in the sorrowful and hope in the despairing; giving\npeace to the perplexed; and, last and best of all, in his last\nhours, when he sought to cheer his sorrowful disciples in view of\nhis death and one of them said, \"Lord, show us the Father and it\nwill suffice,\" he answered, \"He that hath seen me hath seen the\nFather.\" The Invisible Jehovah, the vast, strange, mysterious Will\nthat moves all worlds and controls all destinies, reveals himself to\nus in the Man Jesus--the Christ.\n\nWe are told of an Old Testament prophet that sought to approach\nGod. First there was a mighty tempest; but the Lord was not in\nthe tempest. There was a devouring fire; but the Lord was not in\nthe fire. There was an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the\nearthquake. Then there came at last a \"still, small voice:\" and when\nthe prophet heard that he wrapped his face in his mantle and bowed\nhimself to the earth.\n\nThe tempest, the earthquake, the fire, are the Unknown God of\nNature; the still, small voice is that of Jesus!\n\nIt is to this Teacher so lovable, this Guide so patient and so\ngracious, that our Heavenly Father has committed the care and\nguidance of us through this dark, uncertain life of ours. He came\nto love us, to teach us, to save us; and not merely to save us, but\nto save us in the kindest and gentlest way. He gives himself wholly\nto us, for all that he can be to us, and in return asks us to give\nourselves wholly to him. Shall we not do it?\n\n\n\n\nXVII\n\nTHE TOLERANCE OF JESUS\n\n     \"We saw one casting out devils, and he followed not us; and we\n     forbade him. And Jesus said, Forbid him not.\"\n\n\nThere is nothing in which our Lord so far exceeds all his followers\nas in that spirit of forbearance and tolerance which he showed\ntoward every effort, however imperfect, which was dictated by a\nsincere spirit. Human virtue as it grows intense is liable to grow\nnarrow and stringent; but divine love has an infinite wideness of\nallowance.\n\nWe are told of the first triumphant zeal of the twelve Apostles\nwhen, endued with miraculous power, they went forth healing the\nsick, casting out devils, and preaching the good news of the kingdom\nto the poor. They came back to Jesus exulting in their new success,\nand we are told they said unto him, \"Lord, we saw one casting out\ndevils in thy name, and we forbade him, because he followed not us.\"\n\nJesus said unto them, \"Forbid him not, for there is no man that will\ndo a miracle in my name that will lightly speak evil of me. For he\nthat is not against us is on our side.\"\n\nHere our Lord recognizes the principle that those who seek what he\nis seeking, and are striving to do what he is doing, are in fact on\nhis side, even although they may not see their way clear to follow\nthe banner of his commissioned Apostles and work in their company.\nChrist's mission as he defined it was a mission of healing and\nsaving, a mission of consolation and the relief of human misery; and\nthis man who was trying to cast out the devils in his name was doing\nhis work and moving in his line, although not among his professed\ndisciples.\n\nJesus always recognized the many \"sheep not of this fold\" which\nhe had in this world--people who were his followers by unity of\nintention with what he intended, though they might never have known\nhim personally. He tells the Jews, who believed in a narrow and\npeculiar church, that \"many shall come from the East and the West,\nand shall sit down with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom\nof heaven,\" and in his pictures of the last Judgment he makes the\nfinal award turn on the simple unity of spirit and purpose with Him\nin his great work of mercy for mankind.\n\nWe see intimated that the accepted ones are amazed to find\nthemselves recognized as having shown personal regard to Christ,\nand say, \"Lord, when saw we thee hungry or athirst or in prison and\nministered to thee?\" And the reply is, \"Inasmuch as ye did it to\none of the least of these my brethren, ye did it unto me.\" A more\nsolemn declaration cannot be given, that our Lord accepts the spirit\nwhich is in unison with his great work of mercy for mankind, as the\nbest offering of love to himself; and in this sense it is true that\nno man who would seek to do miracles of mercy in His spirit could\nlightly speak evil of him.\n\nIn this case our Lord might have seen that the arrogant, dictatorial\ntemper which had come upon his followers in the flush of their first\nsuccess might have disgusted and repelled a sincere man who was\nreally trying to help on the good work in which Christ was engaged;\nand perhaps he may now see, as he looks down among our churches here\nand there, some good man in his own peculiar way seeking to do the\nwork of the Lord, yet repelled from following in the train of his\nprofessed disciples. Instead of forbidding such \"because they follow\nnot us,\" he would have us draw them towards us by sympathy in the\ngood they are doing, trusting in our Lord to enlighten them wherever\nthey may need more distinct light.\n\nThe Protestant must not forbid the Romanist mission whose plain\nobject seems to be to call sinners to repentance, and to lead\nprofessing Christians to a higher and holier life; nor must the\nRomanist in the pride of ancient authority forbid the Protestant\nevangelist that is seeking to make known the love of Jesus. And\nthere are men in our times, of pure natures and of real love for\nmankind, whose faith in divine revelation is shaken, who no longer\ndare to say they believe with the \"orthodox,\" but who yet are\nfaithfully striving to do good to man, to heal the sick and cast out\nthe devils that afflict society. Sad-hearted men are they often,\nworking without the cheer that inspires the undoubting believer,\noften under a sense of the ban of the professed followers of Christ;\nyet the infinite tolerance of our Lord is leading them as well as\nthose who more formally bear his name.\n\nIt was Cyrus, the Persian king, who worshiped the Zoroastrian gods,\nthat is called in the prophecy \"God's shepherd;\" to whom God says,\n\"Cyrus, whose right hand I have holden, I girded thee, though thou\nhast not known me.\"\n\nLet us hope that there are many whose right hand Christ is holding,\nthough they as yet know him not; for He it is who says:--\n\n     \"I will bring the blind by a way they know not. I will make\n     darkness light before them, and crooked things straight: these\n     things will I do unto them and not forsake them.\"\n\nIt pleased our Lord to number among the twelve Apostles one of\nthose natures which are constitutionally cautious and skeptical.\nThomas had a doubting head but a loving heart; he clung to Christ\nby affinity of spirit and personal love, with a slow and doubting\nintellect. Whether Jesus were the Messiah, the King of Israel,\ndestined to reign and conquer, Thomas, though sometimes hoping,\nwas somewhat prone to doubt. He was all the while foreboding that\nChrist would be vanquished, while yet determined to stand by him to\nthe last. When Christ announced his purpose to go again into Jud\u00e6a,\nwhere his life had been threatened, Thomas says,--and there seems\nto be a despairing sigh in the very words,--\"Let us also go, that\nwe may die with him.\" The words seemed to say, \"this man may be\nmistaken, after all; but, living or dying, I must love him, and if\nhe dies, I die too.\"\n\nWell, the true-hearted doubter lived to see his Lord die, and he it\nwas, of all the disciples, who refused to believe the glad news of\nthe resurrection. No messenger, no testimony, nothing that anybody\nelse had seen could convince him. He must put his own hand into the\nprint of the nails or he will not believe. The gracious Master did\nnot refuse the test. \"Reach hither thy finger and behold my hand,\nand reach hither thy hand and thrust it into my side, and be not\nfaithless but believing,\" he said, and the doubter fell at his feet\nand cried, \"My Lord and my God!\"\n\nThere was but a gentle word of reproof: \"Thomas, because thou hast\nseen me thou hast believed; blessed are they that have not seen\nand yet have believed.\" It is this divine wideness of spirit, this\ntolerance of love, that is the most characteristic element in\nthe stages which mark the higher Christian life. Such spirits as\nF\u00e9nelon, Francis de Sales, John Woolman, and the apostle Eliot, seem\nto have risen to the calm regions of clear-sighted love. Hence the\nmaxim of F\u00e9nelon: \"Only perfection can tolerate the imperfect.\" But\nwe, in our way to those regions, must lay down our harsh judgments\nof others; we must widen our charity; and, as we bless our good\nShepherd for his patience with our wanderings and failures, must\nlearn to have patience with those of our neighbors.\n\n\n\n\nXVIII\n\nTHE SILENCE OF JESUS\n\n\nIn the history of our Lord's life nothing meets us more frequently\nthan his power of reticence. It has been justly observed that\nthe things that he did _not_ say and do are as just a subject of\nadmiration as the things that he said and did.\n\nThere is no more certain indication of inward strength than the\npower of silence. Hence the proverb that speech is silver and\nsilence is golden. The Church of the middle ages had her treatises\non \"The Grace of Silence.\"\n\nIn the case of our Lord we have to remember first the thirty years\nof silence that preluded his ministry; thirty years in which he\nlived the life of a humble artisan in the obscure town of Nazareth.\nThat he was during those years revolving all that higher wisdom\nwhich has since changed the whole current of human society there\nis little doubt. That his was a spirit from earliest life ardent\nand eager, possessed with the deepest enthusiasm, we learn from\nthe one revealing flash in the incident recorded of his childhood,\nwhen he entered the school of the doctors in the temple and became\nso absorbed in hearing and asking questions that time, place,\nand kindred were all forgotten. Yet, eager as he was, he made no\npetulant objection to his mother's recall, but went down to Nazareth\nwith his parents and was subject to them. This ardent soul retreated\nwithin itself, and gathered itself up in silence and obedience.\n\nWhen, at the age of thirty, he rose in the synagogue of his native\nplace and declared his great and beautiful mission it is quite\nevident that he took everybody by surprise. No former utterances,\nnothing in his previous life, had prepared his townsfolk for\nthis. They said, \"How knoweth this man letters? Is not this the\ncarpenter?\" What habitual silence and reticence is here indicated!\nFor this was the same Jesus whose words, when he did speak, had\nthat profound and penetrating power that stirred the hearts of\nmen, and have gone on since stirring them as no other utterances\never did. But when he did speak his words were more mighty from\nthe accumulated force of repression. They fell concentrated and\nsparkling like diamonds that had been slowly crystallizing in those\nyears of silence; they were utterances for time and for eternity.\n\nIn like manner we see numerous indications that he withdrew from all\nthat was popular and noisy and merely sensational with a deep and\nreal distaste. So far as possible he wrought his miracles privately.\nHe enjoined reticence and silence on his disciples. He said, \"The\nkingdom of God cometh not with observation.\" He pointed to the grain\nof mustard seed and the hidden leaven as types of its power.\n\nIn the same way we see him sometimes receiving in silence prayers\nfor help which he intended to answer. When the Syro-Phoenician woman\ncried to him to heal her daughter, it is said \"he answered her never\na word;\" yet healing was in his heart. His silence was the magnet\nto draw forth her desire, to intensify her faith and reveal to his\ndisciples what there was in her.\n\nSo, too, when word was sent from the sisters of Bethany, \"Lord,\nbehold he whom thou lovest is sick,\" he received it in the same\nsilence. It is said, \"Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus;\nwhen he had heard, therefore, that he was sick, he abode two days\nstill in the same place where he was.\" In those two days of apparent\nsilent neglect, how many weary hours to the anxious friends watching\nfor him who _could_ help, and who yet did not come! But the silence\nand the wailing ended in a deeper joy at the last. The sorrow\nof one family was made the means of a record of the Saviour's\ntenderness and sympathy and his triumphant power over death, which\nis for all time and for every mourner. As he gave Lazarus back whole\nand uninjured from the grave, so he then and there promised to do\nfor every one who believes in him: \"He that believeth on me shall\nnever die.\"\n\nIn the family of the Saviour was a false friend whose falseness was\nbetter known to the Master than perhaps to himself. He knew the\nfalsity of Judas to his trust in the management of the family purse,\nyet he was silent. He sought the sympathy of no friend; he did not\nexpose him to the others. From time to time he threw out general\nwarnings that there was one among them that was untrue--warnings\naddressed to _his_ conscience alone. But he changed in no degree\nhis manner toward him; he did not withhold the kiss at meeting\nand parting, nor refuse to wash his feet with the others; and the\ntraitor went out from the last meeting to finish his treachery,\nleaving his brethren ignorant of his intended crime. This loving,\nforbearing silence with an enemy--keeping him in his family,\ntreating him with unchanging love yet with warning faithfulness,\nnever uttering a word of complaint and parting at last in sorrow\nmore than anger--was the practical comment left by Jesus on his\nown words: \"Love your enemies, that ye may be the children of\nyour Father which is in heaven; for he maketh his sun to shine\non the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on\nthe unjust.\" This, the last, the highest grade in the science\nof love, is one that few Christians even come within sight of.\nTo bear an enemy near one's person, perfectly to understand his\nmachinations, and yet feel only unchanging love and pity, carefully\nto guard his character, never to communicate to another the evil\nthat we perceive, to go on in kindness as the sunshine goes on in\nnature--this is an attainment so seldom made that when made it is\nhard to be understood. If the example of Jesus is to be the rule by\nwhich our attainments are finally to be measured, who can stand in\nthe judgment?\n\nThe silence of Jesus in his last trial before Herod and Pilate is no\nless full of sublime suggestion. We see him standing in a crowd of\nenemies clamorous, excited, eager, with false witnesses distorting\nhis words, disagreeing with each other, agreeing only in one thing:\nthe desire for his destruction. And Pilate says, \"Answerest thou\nnothing? Behold how many things they witness against thee.\" It\nwas the dead silence that more than anything else troubled and\nperplexed the Roman governor. After he has given up his victim to\nthe brutalities of the soldiery, to the scourging and the crown of\nthorns, he sends for him again for a private examination. \"Whence\nart thou? Speakest thou not to me? Knowest thou not that I have\npower to crucify thee and power to release thee?\" In all the brief\nreplies of Jesus there is no effort to clear himself, no denial\nof the many things witnessed against him. In fact, from the few\nthings that he did say on the way to the cross, it would seem\nthat his soul abode calmly in that higher sphere of love in which\nhe looked down with pity on the vulgar brutality that surrounded\nhim. The poor ignorant populace shouting they knew not what, the\nwretched scribes and chief priests setting the seal of doom on their\nnation, the stolid Roman soldiers trained in professional hardness\nand cruelty--he looked down on them all with pity. \"Daughters of\nJerusalem,\" he said to the weeping women, \"weep not for me, but weep\nfor yourselves and for your children.\" And a few moments later,\n\"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.\"\n\nWe are told by the Apostles that this Jesus is the image of the\ninvisible God. The silence of God in presence of so much that moves\nhuman passions is one of the most awful things for humanity to\ncontemplate. But if Jesus is his image this silence is not wrathful\nor contemptuous, but full of pity and forgiveness.\n\nThe silence and the great darkness around the cross of Calvary were\nnot the silence of gathering wrath and doom. God, the forgiving,\nwas there, and the way was preparing for a new and unequaled era of\nforgiving mercy. The rejected Jesus was exalted to the right hand of\nGod, not to fulfill a mission of wrath, but to \"give repentance and\nremission of sins.\"\n\n\n\n\nXIX\n\nTHE SECRET OF PEACE\n\n\nPeace! Is there in fact such a thing as an attainable habit of mind\nthat can remain at peace, no matter what external circumstances\nmay be? No matter what worries; no matter what perplexities, what\nthwartings, what cares, what dangers; no matter what slanders, what\nrevilings, what persecutions--is it possible to keep an immovable\npeace? When our dearest friends are taken from us, when those we\nlove are in deadly danger from hour to hour, is it possible still\nto be in peace? When our plans of life are upset, when fortune\nfails, when debt and embarrassment come down, is it possible to be\nat peace? When suddenly called to die, or to face sorrows that are\nworse than death, is it possible still to be at peace?\n\nYes, it is. This is the peculiarity of the Christian religion--the\nspecial gift of Christ to every soul that will receive it from\nhim. In his hour of deepest anguish, when every earthly resort was\nfailing him, when he was about to be deserted, denied, betrayed,\ntortured even unto death, he had this great gift of peace, and he\nleft it as a legacy to his followers:--\n\n     \"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you. Not as the\n     world giveth give I unto you.\"\n\nHe says himself that his peace is not what the world giveth. It does\nnot come from anything in this life; it cannot be taken away by\nanything in this life; it is wholly divine. As a white dove looks\nbrighter and fairer against a black thunder-cloud, so Christ's peace\nis brightest and sweetest in darkness and adversity.\n\nIs not this rest of the soul, this perfect peace, worth having? Do\nthe majority of Christians have it? Would it not lengthen the days\nand strengthen the health of many a man and woman if they could\nattain it? But how shall we get this gift? That is an open secret.\nSt. Paul told it to the Philippians in one simple direction:--\n\n     \"Be not anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and\n     supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known\n     unto God; and the peace of God that passeth understanding shall\n     keep your heart and mind.\"\n\nThere we have it.\n\nNow if we look back to the history of these Philippians, as told in\nthe Book of Acts, we shall see that when Paul exhorted them never\nto be anxious about anything, but always with thanksgiving to let\ntheir wants be known to God, he preached exactly what they had seen\nhim practice among them. For this Philippian church was at first a\nlittle handful of people gathered to Jesus by hearing Paul talk in\na prayer-meeting held one Sunday morning by the riverside. There\nLydia, the seller of fine linen from Thyatira, first believed with\nher house, and a little band of Christians was gathered. But lo! in\nthe very commencement of the good work a tumult was raised, and Paul\nand Silas were swooped down upon by the jealous Roman authorities,\nignominiously and cruelly scourged, and then carried to prison and\nshut up with their feet fast in the stocks. Here was an opportunity\nto test their serenity. Did their talisman work, or did it fail?\nWhat did the Apostles do? We are told: \"At midnight Paul and Silas\nprayed and sang praises to God, and the prisoners heard them.\" That\nprayer went up with a shout of victory--it was as Paul directs,\nprayer and supplication with thanksgiving. Then came the opening of\nprison doors, the loosing of bonds, and the jailer fell trembling\nat the feet of his captives, saying, \"Sirs, what must I do to be\nsaved?\" And that night the jailer and all his house were added to\nthe church at Philippi. So, about eleven years after, when Paul's\nletter came back from Rome to the Philippian church and was read out\nin their prayer-meeting, we can believe that the old Roman jailer,\nnow a leading brother in the church, said, \"Ay! ay! he teaches just\nwhat he practised. I remember how he sung and rejoiced there in\nthat old prison at midnight. Nothing ever disturbs him.\" And they\nremember, too, that this cheerful, joyful, courageous letter comes\nfrom one who is again a prisoner, chained night and day to a Roman\nsoldier, and it gives all the more force to his inspiring direction:\n\"Be anxious for nothing--in everything, by prayer and supplication,\nwith thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God.\"\n\nIf Paul had been like us, now, how many excuses he might have had\nfor being in a habitual worry! How was he shut up and hindered in\nhis work of preaching the gospel. A prisoner at Rome while churches\nthat needed him were falling into divers temptations for want of\nhim--how he might have striven with his lot, how he might have\nwondered why God allowed the enemy so to triumph.\n\nBut it appears he was perfectly quiet. \"I know how to be abased,\nand how to abound,\" he says; \"everywhere, and in all things, I am\ninstructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and\nsuffer need. I can do all things through Christ that strengtheneth\nme.\"\n\nBut say some, \"Do you suppose if you go to God about everything that\ntroubles you it will do any good? If you do ask him for help, will\nyou get it?\"\n\nIf this means, Will God always give you the blessing you want, or\nremove the pain you feel, in answer to your prayer? the answer must\nbe, Certainly not.\n\nPaul prayed often and with intense earnestness for the removal of\na trial so sharp and severe that he calls it a thorn in his flesh.\nIt was something that he felt to be unbearable, and he prayed the\nLord to take it away, but the Lord did not; he only said to him,\n\"My grace is sufficient for thee. My strength is made perfect in\nweakness.\"\n\nThe permission in all things to let our requests be made known to\nGod would be a fatal one for us if it meant that God would always\ngive us what we ask. When we come to see the record of our life as\nit is written in heaven, we shall see some of our best occasions of\nthankfulness under the head of \"prayers denied.\"\n\nDid you ever see a little child rushing home from school in hot\nhaste, with glowing cheeks and tearful eyes, burning and smarting\nunder some fancied or real injustice or injury in his school life?\nHe runs through the street; he rushes into the house; he puts off\nevery one who tries to comfort him. \"No, no! he doesn't want them;\nhe wants mother; he's going to tell mother.\" And when he finds her\nhe throws himself into her arms and sobs out to her all the tumult\nof his feelings, right or wrong, reasonable or unreasonable. \"The\nschool is hateful; the teacher is hard, and the lessons are too\nlong; he can't learn them, and the boys laugh at him, and won't she\nsay he needn't go any more?\"\n\nNow, though the mother does not grant his foolish petitions, she\nsoothes him by sympathy; she calms him; she reasons with him; she\ninspires him with courage to meet the necessary trials of school\nlife--in short, her grace is sufficient for her boy; her strength\nperfects his weakness. He comes out tranquilized, calm, and\nhappy--not that he is going to get his own foolish wishes, but that\nhis mother has taken the matter in hand and is going to look into\nit, and the right thing is going to be done.\n\nThis is an exact illustration of the kind of help it is for us\n\"in everything by prayer to make known our requests to God.\" The\nvery act of confidence is in itself tranquilizing, and the divine\nsympathy meets and sustains it.\n\nA large class of our annoyances and worries are extinguished or\nlessened by the very act of trying to tell them to such a person as\nJesus Christ. They are our burning injuries, our sense of wrong and\ninjustice done us. When we go to tell Jesus how cruelly and wickedly\nsome other Christian has treated us, we immediately begin to feel as\na child who is telling his mother about his brother--both equally\ndear. Our anger gradually changes to a kind of sorrow when we think\nof Him as grieved by our differences. After all, we are speaking of\none whom Christ is caring for and bearing with just as he is caring\nfor us, and the thought takes away the edge of our indignation; a\nplace is found for peace.\n\nThen there is still another class of troubles that would be cut off\nand smothered altogether by the honest effort to tell them to our\nSaviour. All the troubles that come from envy, from wanting to be\nas fine, as distinguished, as successful as our neighbors; all the\ntroubles that come from running races with our neighbors in dress,\nhousehold show, parties, the strife \"who shall be the greatest\"\ntransferred to the little petty sphere of fashionable life--ah,\nif those who are burdened with cares of this kind would just once\nhonestly bring them to Jesus and hear what he would have to say\nabout them! They might leave them at his feet and go away free and\nhappy.\n\nBut whatever burden or care we take to Jesus, if we would get the\npeace promised, we must _leave_ it with Him as entirely as the\nlittle child leaves his school troubles with his mother. We must\ncome away and treat it as a finality. We must say, Christ has taken\nthat. Christ will see about it. And then we must stop thinking and\nworrying about it. We must resolve to be satisfied with whatever\nmay be his disposal of the matter, even if it is not at all what we\nwould have chosen.\n\nPaul would much sooner have chosen to be free and travel through\nthe churches, but Christ decided to allow him to remain a chained\nprisoner at Rome, and there Paul learned to rest, and he was happy\nin Christ's will. Christ settled it for him, and he was at peace.\n\nIf, then, by following this one rule we can always be at rest, how\ntrue are the lines of the hymn now so often sung:--\n\n    \"Oh, what joy we often forfeit!\n      Oh, what needless pain we bear!\n    All because we do not carry\n      Everything to God in prayer.\"\n\n\n\n\nXX\n\nTHE CHURCH OF THE MASTER\n\n\nWhat is the true idea of a Christian church, and what the temper and\nspirit in which its affairs should be conducted?\n\nFor this inquiry certainly we are not to go back to New England\nor Cotton Mather primarily, nor yet to the earlier Anglican\nauthorities, or the long line of Roman precedent, and the Fathers of\nthe Church, nor even to the Apostolic churches, but to Jesus Christ\nhimself, and to the earliest association that could be called a\nChristian church.\n\nThere is a difference in this discussion between _the_ Church and\n_a_ church. _The_ Church is the great generic unity or outside\norganization; _a_ church is a society related to the whole, as a\nprivate family to the State.\n\nIn the time of our Lord the generic body--_the_ Church of God--was\nthe Jewish church. Jesus was a regularly initiated member of that\nchurch, and very careful never to depart from any of its forms or\nrequirements. He announced in the Sermon on the Mount that, in\nregard to the Jewish law, he was not come to destroy but to fulfill.\nHe said distinctly to his disciples: \"The Scribes and Pharisees\nsit in Moses' seat: all things therefore whatsoever they bid you\nobserve, that observe and do; but do ye not after their works, for\nthey say and do not.\" The Apostles never separated formally from\nthe Jewish church. They were so careful in this regard that they on\none occasion induced St. Paul, who was reported to be a schismatic,\nto go in a very marked and public manner into the Jewish temple\nand conform to the Jewish ritual; and when he addressed a company\nof Jews on one occasion he commenced with the words: \"Men and\nbrethren, I am a Pharisee and the son of a Pharisee.\" He elsewhere\nspeaks of the perfectness of this initiation into all the customs\nand privileges of the national church--that he was a Hebrew of the\nHebrews.\n\nThe Christian Church arose inside the Jewish church, exactly as the\nMethodists arose inside the Church of England. They were a society\nprofessing subjection and obedience to the national church in all\nrespects where the higher law of God did not require them to go\nagainst earthly ordinances. Thus, when the Jewish Sanhedrin forbade\nthe Apostles to preach in the name of Jesus, they answered, \"Whether\nit be right in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than unto\nGod, judge ye.\" In like spirit did John Wesley and his ministers\nanswer the bishops when they tried to shut their mouths from\npreaching the gospel to the poor of England.\n\nBut in the mean time it is to be remembered that the Lord Jesus\ngradually formed around himself as a personal centre an organization\nof disciples, both men and women. This band of disciples may be\nlooked upon as the seed form of the Christian Church, and the order\nof their union having been administered immediately by the Master\nmust be studied as conveying the best example of the spirit and\ntemper, though not necessarily the exact form, in which all churches\nshould be constituted.\n\nThat this company of believers was regularly organized, and\nperfectly recognized as an organization, appears from a passage in\nActs, where it is said that after the ascension of our Lord this\nlittle church came together and abode together for several days. The\nnames of many of them are given--the eleven Apostles, the mother of\nJesus, his brethren, and several others, called in the enumeration\n\"the women,\" are mentioned, and it is further stated that \"the\nnumber of them was about one hundred and twenty.\"\n\nSt. Paul indeed speaks of an occasion on which Christ, after his\nresurrection, appeared to five hundred disciples at once, of whom\nhe says the greater part were living when he wrote. This hundred\nand twenty were probably such a portion of the whole company of\ndisciples as had their residence in and about Jerusalem, and could\ntherefore conveniently assemble together. We first see them called\ntogether to perform a corporate act in filling a vacancy among their\nofficers. The twelve by the appointment of the Lord had occupied a\npeculiar position of leadership. The place of one of these being\nvacated by the death of Judas, the little church is summoned to\nassist in the election of a successor. The speech of Peter is\nremarkable as showing that he considered the persons he addressed\nas a body competent to transact business and fill vacancies. After\nrelating the death and fate of Judas, he ends by saying, \"Wherefore,\nfrom these men that have companied with us all the time that the\nLord Jesus went in and out among us must one be ordained to be\na witness with us of his resurrection.\" Here, then, are all the\nevidences of a regularly trained church already in existence when\nour Lord left the world.\n\nBut if we look at the twentieth chapter of John we shall see that\nthe little company that performed this act had been previously\nordained and inspired by Jesus, and wisdom had been promised to\nguide their proceedings.\n\nIt is said that immediately after Christ's resurrection--after he\nhad appeared to Mary Magdalene--he suddenly appeared in an assembly\nof the disciples, showed them his hands and his side, said to them,\n\"Peace be unto you,\" breathed on them, and said, \"Receive ye the\nHoly Ghost: whosesoever sins ye remit they are remitted unto them,\nand whosesoever sins ye retain they are retained.\" The disciples\nspoken of here were the whole company of believers who yet remained\nfaithful--not merely the eleven, since one of the eleven at least\nwas absent.\n\nThe words of the promise are not to be superstitiously interpreted,\nas they have been, as giving an arbitrary, irresponsible power to an\naristocracy in the church, but as expressing this great truth: that\nwhenever a body of Christians are acting under the influence of the\nHoly Spirit, under a high and heavenly state of Christian feeling,\ntheir decisions will be in sympathy with God and be ratified in\nheaven. It is only to those who receive the Holy Ghost that such\npower pertains.\n\nHaving shown, then, that Christ left a trained, inspired, ordained\nchurch of believers to perpetuate his work on earth, it now becomes\ninteresting to go back and watch the process by which he trained\nthem.\n\nThe history of the formation and gradual education of this church\nis interesting, because, although the visible presence of the\nMaster made it differ from any subsequent church, yet the spirit\nand temper in which he guided it are certainly a model for all.\nChrist's visible presence relieved them from all responsibility as\nto discipline. He governed personally, and settled every question\nas it rose. In this respect no other church can be like it. But the\ninvisible Christ, the Christ in the heart of all believers, ought\nto be with every church, that it may be carried on in _spirit_ as\nChrist conducted his.\n\nIn the first place, then, Christ carried on this his first church as\na family, of which he was the father, and in which the law was love.\nHe said to his disciples, \"All ye are brethren;\" he addressed them\nhabitually as \"children,\" sometimes as \"little children,\" and laid\non them with emphasis a _new_ commandment, that they should love one\nanother as he had loved them. The old commandment, given by Moses,\nwas, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself; the new commandment of\nChrist was, Love one another as I have loved you--better than self.\nSt. John interprets this thus: Hereby we perceive the love of God,\nbecause he laid down his life for us. We ought also to lay down our\nlives for the brethren.\n\nThis church or family of Christ was very wide and free in its\ninvitation to any to join, and many did join themselves, so that at\ntimes portions of them traveled with him as a missionary family from\nplace to place.\n\nThus, in Luke viii., we read that \"it came to pass that he went\nthrough every city and village preaching and showing the glad\ntidings of the kingdom; and the twelve were with him, and certain\nwomen whom he had healed of evil spirits and infirmities; Mary,\ncalled Magdalene, and Joanna, the wife of Chusa, Herod's steward,\nand Susanna, and many others, who also ministered unto him of their\nsubstance.\"\n\nThis co\u00f6peration of women in the missionary church would in some\ncountries have given an occasion of offense and scandal. But the\nlaws and institutions of Moses had prepared a nation in which\nthe moral and religious mission of woman was fully recognized.\nProphetesses and holy women, inspired by God, had always held an\nimportant place in its history, and it was in full accord with the\nnational sense of propriety that woman should hold a conspicuous\nplace in the new society of Jesus. It is remarkable, too, that the\nbitterest and most vituperative attacks on the character of Jesus\nwhich appeared in early centuries never found cause of scandal in\nthis direction.\n\nThese pious women exercised, for the benefit of our Lord and his\ndisciples, the peculiar gifts of their sex--they ministered to them\nas women best know how. One of them was the wife of a man of high\nrank in Herod's court. Several of them appear to have been possessed\nof property. Some of them, however, were reclaimed women of formerly\nsinful life, but now redeemed. The wife of Herod's steward, and\nthe spotless matron, the mother of James and John, did not scruple\nto receive to their fellowship and sisterly love the redeemed Mary\nMagdalene, \"out of whom went seven devils.\"\n\nThe contributions for the support of this mission church became so\nconsiderable, and the care of providing for its material wants so\nonerous, as to require the services of a steward, and one of the\ntwelve, who had a peculiar turn for financial cares, was appointed\nto this office. Judas made all the purchases for the company,\ndispensed its charities, and, as financier, felt at liberty to\ncomment severely on the \"waste\" shown by the grateful Mary.\n\nIt seems that Judas was a type of that class of men who seek the\nchurch from worldly motives. The treatment of this treacherous\nfriend by Jesus is a model that cannot be too earnestly studied\nby every Christian. St. John says, \"Jesus knew from the beginning\nwho they were that believed not, and who should betray him.\" But\nhe carried himself towards him with the same unvarying and tender\nsweetness that he showed to all the rest. He was Love itself. He\ncould not possibly associate with another without love, and there\nwas something peculiarly delicate and forbearing in his treatment of\nJudas (as is more fully considered in our next chapter).\n\nHe might easily have exposed him before his brethren, but he would\nnot do it. It seems from the narrative that even when Judas left the\nlittle company to complete his crime, the simple-hearted disciples\nknew not where he was going.\n\nThere was no calling him to account, no exposure, no denunciation,\nno excommunication. Why this care, this peculiar reticence, on\nthe Master's part? It was a part of his system of teaching his\nfamily what he meant when he said, Love your enemies. It was a\nway of teaching that, when they came to understand it fully, they\nnever would forget. Moreover, during his whole life, in all his\nteachings to this little church, his main object was that they\nshould be rooted and grounded in that kind of love which no injury,\nor cruelty, or perfidy can change, the kind of love which he showed\nwhen he prayed for those who were piercing his hands and feet. But\nhe found them not apt scholars. They were apt and ready in the\nscience of wrath. With them the way of anger and what is called\nrighteous indignation went down hill, but he always held them back.\nWhen a village refused to receive the Master, it was James and John\nwho were ready to propose to call down fire from heaven, as Elias\ndid. But he told them they knew not what manner of spirit they were\nof; the mission of the Son of man was to save--not to kill.\n\nAs a delicate musician shudders to strike a discord, so Jesus\nwould not excite among his little children the tumult of wrath and\nindignation that would be sure to arise did they fully know the\ntreachery of Judas. He so carried himself that the evil element\ndeparted from them without a convulsion, by the calm expulsive\nforce of moral influences. He bore with Judas patiently, sweetly,\nlovingly, to the very last. He kept the knowledge of his treachery\nin his own bosom till of his own free will the traitor departed.\n\nThere is something so above human nature in this--it is such\nunworldly sweetness, such celestial patience, that it is difficult\nfor us at our usual level of life to understand it. It is difficult\nto realize that these expressions of love which Jesus continued\nto Judas were not a policy, but a simple reality, that he loved\nand pitied the treacherous friend as a mother loves and pities the\nunworthy son who is whitening her hair and breaking her heart, and\nthat the kiss he gave was always sincere.\n\nIt is an example, too, that may with advantage be studied in\nconducting the discipline of a church. Here was the worst of\ncriminals meditating the deepest injuries, the worst of crimes, in\nthe very bosom of the infant church, yet our Lord so bore with him,\nso ruled and guided his little family that there was no quarrel\nand struggle,--that the very best and most was made of his talents\nas long as they could be used for good,--and when he departed the\nchurch was not rent and torn as a demoniac by the passage from them\nof an evil spirit.\n\nBut there were other respects in which Jesus trained his church,\nbesides that of managing a discordant element within it. There were\nmany who would become disciples from sudden impulse or sympathy, who\nhad not the moral stamina to go on to spiritual perfection. Aware\nof this, the Master, while ever gracious, ever ready to receive,\nexacted no binding pledge or oath. He displayed no eagerness to\nget men to commit themselves in this way, but rather the reverse.\nWhoever came saying, \"Lord, I will follow thee,\" met a gracious\nreception. Yet the seeker was warned that he must take up his\ncross, and that without this he could not be a disciple. He was\nadmonished to count the cost, lest he should begin to build and not\nbe able to finish. In some cases, as that of the young nobleman, the\ntests proposed were so severe that the man went away sorrowful; and\nyet, for all this, the heart of the Master was freely open to all\nwho chose to follow him.\n\nBut as Jesus would take none without full warning of the stringency\nof his exactions, so he would retain none a moment beyond the time\nwhen their hearts were fully in it. Free they were to come as God's\nlove is free--free also to go, if on trial they found the doctrine\nor discipline too hard for them. Christ gathered his spiritual army\non the principles on which Moses commanded that the army of Israel\nshould be gathered for battle, when proclamation was made that any\none who for any reason was not fully in good heart should go home,\n\"What man is fearful or faint-hearted, let him go and return to his\nhouse, lest his brethren's heart faint as well as his.\"\n\nThere is a very striking passage in the sixth chapter of John's\nGospel, where Jesus, in the most stringent and earnest manner, spoke\nof the necessity of eating his flesh and drinking his blood; or, in\nother words, of an appropriating and identifying union of soul with\nhimself as constituting true discipleship. This expos\u00e9 of the inner\ndepths of real spiritual life repelled some, as it is written:--\n\n     \"Many, therefore, of his disciples said: This is a hard saying.\n     Who can hear it? When Jesus knew in himself that his disciples\n     murmured, he said: Doth this offend you?... But there are some\n     of you that believe not. For Jesus knew from the beginning who\n     they were who believed not and who should betray him.\"\n\nFrom that time, we are told, _many_ of his disciples went back\nand walked no more with him. They left the church; and we read of\nno effort to discipline or retain them. The spiritual life of the\nchurch expelled them by the law of moral repulsion; they felt they\nwere not of it, and they left, and were suffered to leave. The only\ncomment we read of as being made by the Lord was this: \"Then said\nJesus to the twelve: Will ye also go away?\" There was the door,\nfreely open, would they, too, go? Then said Peter: \"Lord, to whom\nshould we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life, and we believe\nand are sure that thou art the Christ.\"\n\nWe can see here what was the sifting process by which our Lord kept\nhis little church pure. It was the union of vivid spirituality with\nperfect freedom. The doors of entrance and of exit were freely open;\nand those who could not bear the intense and glowing spiritual life\nwere at all times free to depart; in the words subsequently used\nby the Apostle, \"they judged themselves unworthy of eternal life.\"\nHence, like a vigorous human body, Christ's little church threw out\nfrom itself the unvital members, and kept itself healthy and strong.\nThis perfect freedom to depart at any time constituted the strength\nof the little order. Its members were held together, not by a dead\ncovenant, not by a conventional necessity, not by past vows uttered\nin high excitement--but by a living choice of the soul, renewed from\nmoment to moment. Even the twelve had presented to them the choice\nto go away, and took anew their vow of constancy. Hence it was that\neven the astounding horrors of the sudden fall--the crucifixion of\nthe Master--did not break their ranks. There were none left but\nthose so vitally united to him, so \"one with him\" that, as he said,\nthey \"lived by him.\" He was their life; they followed him to the\ncross and to the grave; they watched the sepulchre, and were ready\nto meet him in the resurrection morning. It was this tried and\nsifted remnant to whom he appeared when the doors were closed, after\nthe resurrection, on whom he breathed peace and the Holy Ghost,\nand whose spiritual judgments and decisions he promised should\nthereafter be ratified in heaven.\n\nThis little company were, as nearly as human beings can be, rooted\nand grounded in perfect love. The lesson of their lives had been\nlove, taught them by precept from day to day, as he harmonized their\ncontentions and repressed their selfish ambitions; and by example,\nas he persistently tolerated, loved, bore with a treacherous friend\nin his own family.\n\nIt was necessary that they should be prepared to exercise power, for\npower was about to be intrusted to them. It was necessary to prepare\nthem to be the governors of the future Christian Church. But he was\nunwearied in efforts to make them understand that superiority must\nonly be a superiority in doing and suffering for others. When the\nmother of James and John asked the highest two offices for her two\nsons, he looked at her with a pathetic sadness. Did she know what\nshe was asking? Did she know that to be nearest to him was to suffer\nmost? He answered: \"You know not what you ask. Can you drink of\nthe cup that I shall drink, and be baptized with my baptism?\" And\nwhen they ignorantly said, \"We are able,\" he said that the place of\nsuperiority was not his to give by any personal partiality, but was\nreserved for the appointment of the Father. But the ambitious spirit\nnow roused had spread to the other disciples. It is said that when\nthe ten heard it they were indignant with James and John. But Jesus\ncalled them to him and said:--\n\n     \"Ye know that they that are accounted to rule over the Gentiles\n     exercise lordship over them, and their great ones exercise\n     authority upon them. But it shall not be so among you; but\n     whosoever shall be great among you let him be your minister,\n     and whosoever will be the chiefest let him be servant of all;\n     for even the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to\n     minister, and give his life a ransom for many.\"\n\nOne of the very last acts of his life, and one of the most affecting\ncomments on these words, was his washing his disciples' feet as a\nmenial servant--a last significant act, which might almost be called\na sacrament, since by it he, in view of his dying hour, put this\nlast impressive seal on his teaching of humanity and brotherly love.\n\nThe contest which should be the greatest, in spite of all his\nefforts, all his teachings, all his rebukes, had only smouldered,\nnot been extinguished, and was ready at any moment to flame out\nagain, and all the way up to Jerusalem when he came to die they\nwalked behind him quarreling over this old point. As a dying mother\ncalling her children around her confirms her life-teaching by\nsome last act of love never to be forgotten, so this Master and\nFriend before the last supper knelt in humility at the feet of each\ndisciple and washed and wiped them, and then interpreted the act as\na sign of the spirit in which leadership in his church should be\nsought: \"If I, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, ye ought\nalso to wash one another's feet.\" In after years the disciples could\nnot but remember that Jesus knelt at the feet of Judas and washed\nthem as meekly as those of all the rest; and then they saw what he\nmeant when he said, \"Love your enemies.\"\n\nFrom first to last the teaching of Christ was one long teaching of\nthe doctrine and discipline of perfect love. When the multitudes\nfollowed him, and he went into a mountain to give his summary of\nthe new dispensation, we hear of no high, mystical doctrines. We\nhear doctrines against censoriousness, against the habit of judging\nothers. We hear men cautioned to look on their own faults, not on\nthose of others. We hear love like the perfect love of God set up\nas the great doctrine of the new kingdom--love which no injury, no\nunworthiness, no selfishness can chill, or alter, or turn aside;\nwhich, like God's providence, shines on the evil and unthankful, and\nsends rain on the just and the unjust--this mystery of love, deeper\nthan the mystery of the Trinity, was what, from first to last, the\nMaster sought to make his little church comprehend.\n\nThis love to enemies, this forgiveness, was the hardest of hard\ndoctrines to them. \"Lord, how often shall my brother transgress\nand I forgive him?\" says Peter; \"till seven times?\" \"Nay,\" answers\nJesus, \"till seventy times seven.\" \"If thy brother trespass\nagainst thee seven times a day, and seven times turn again saying,\n'I repent,' thou shalt forgive him.\" The Master taught that no\nreligious ordinance, no outward service, was so important as to\nmaintain love unbroken. If a gift were brought to the altar, and\nthere it were discovered that a brother were grieved or offended,\nthe gift was to be left unoffered till a reconciliation was sought.\n\nIt is not merely with the brother who has given us cause of offense,\nbut the brother who, however unreasonably, deems himself hurt by us,\nthat we are commanded to seek reconciliation before we can approach\na Heavenly Father.\n\nA band of men and women thus trained in the school of Jesus,\ncareful to look on their own faults, refraining from judging those\nof others, unselfish and lowly, seeking only to do and to serve,\nso perfected in a divine love that the most bitter and cruel\npersonal injuries could not move to bitterness or revenge--such a\nchurch is in a fit state to administer discipline. It has the Holy\nSpirit of Jesus with it; and it may be said, without superstitious\ncredulity, of a church in that spirit that its decisions will be so\nin accordance with the will of God that \"whosesoever sins they remit\nare remitted, and whosesoever sins they retain are retained.\"\n\nBut where have we such a church?\n\nThe church of the Master was one of those beautiful ideals, fair\nas the frost-crystals or the dew-drops of morning. It required a\npresent Jesus to hold it, and then with what constant watchfulness\nand care and admonition on his part was it kept! We can only study\nat his marvelous training, and gather some humble inspiration. It\nwas this church of Jesus, the Master, this tried, sifted, suffering\nbody of faithful men and women whose prayers brought down the Holy\nSpirit on the day of Pentecost, and inaugurated the Apostolic Church.\n\n\n\n\nXXI\n\nJUDAS\n\n\nIt is one of the mysteries in the life of our Lord that he was led\nby the immediate direction of the Father to incorporate into his\nlittle family, and to bring into the closest personal relations with\nhimself, an unsympathetic and adverse element that must have been a\nsource of continual pain to him.\n\nIt was after a whole night spent in prayer for the divine direction\nthat the first twelve Apostles were chosen; and Judas also was\none of them. The history of this man is a wonder and a warning.\nThat there could possibly be a human being who could have such\nadvantages, could rise to such a height of spiritual power and joy,\nand yet in the end prove to be utterly without any true spiritual\nlife seems fearful.\n\nIt would appear that Judas had at first a sort of worldly enthusiasm\nfor Christ and his kingdom; that he received the divine gift of\nmiracle-working; that he went forth preaching and healing, and felt\nall the exultation and joy which the sense of spiritual power and\ninfluence gives. Judas was among those who returned from the first\nmissionary tour in triumph, saying, \"Lord, even the devils were\nsubject unto us!\" The grave answer of Jesus reminded them that it\nwas of far more importance to be really accepted of God as true\nChristians than to have the most brilliant gifts and powers.\n\nIn our Lord's first Sermon on the Mount, which may be considered as\nan ordaining charge to his Apostles, he had said to them that in\nthe great final day of Judgment there would be many who would say\nunto him, \"Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name, and in thy name\ncast out devils, and in thy name done many wonderful works? and then\nwill I say to them, I never knew you; depart from me, ye that work\niniquity.\" Everywhere in the New Testament these miraculous powers\nare spoken of as something of far less value than the true Christian\nspirit, and, if we may trust the word of our Master, many had them\nwhom he will never acknowledge for his own.\n\nBut the warning fell on the ear of Judas unheeded. Perhaps he did\nnot himself know how selfish and self-seeking was his zeal for\nthe coming kingdom. Generally speaking, the first person deceived\nby a man who plays a false part is himself. Judas appears not to\nhave excited the suspicions of the little company of brethren.\nHis shrewdness and tact in managing financial matters led them to\nappoint him the treasurer of the common family purse. Without doubt,\nwhat he saw of the enthusiastic love which Jesus excited, the ease\nwith which he could make people willing to lay their fortunes at his\nfeet, opened to his view dazzling golden visions. He saw himself\ntreasurer of a kingdom unequaled in splendor and riches, when all\nthe kingdoms of the world should be subject to his master. It was\nmore than the reign of Solomon, when gold was to be as the stones of\nthe street.\n\nIf we notice our Lord's teachings delivered in the hearing of Judas,\nwe must be struck with the explicit and forcible manner in which he\nconstantly pointed out the danger of the worldly spirit which was\ngrowing upon that disciple. How solemn the picture of the rich man,\nabsorbed in plans and calculations how to bestow his great wealth\nuntil God says to him, \"Thou fool! this night shall thy soul be\nrequired of thee--then whose shall those things be that thou hast\nprovided?\" \"So,\" he adds, \"is every one that layeth up riches, and\nis not rich towards God.\" Again, he tells them that it is easier for\na camel to go through a needle's eye than for a rich man to enter\ninto the kingdom of God. He asks them, What shall it profit a man if\nhe gain the whole world and lose his own soul?\n\nWe hear nothing of any replies that Judas makes to these teachings.\nHe seldom is represented dramatically. Peter, James, John, and\nThomas, all present themselves vividly to our mind by the things\nthat they say; but Judas is silent. The Master, who knew him so\nwell, did not expose him to the others. He did not lessen their\nbrotherly regard or interrupt the peace of his little family by\nany effort at expulsion. As his Father had chosen this member to\nbe in intimate nearness to himself, Jesus accepted him, bore with\nhim, loved him, and treated him to the last with the same unvarying\nsweetness that he showed to the more congenial natures. It is\naffecting to remember that the very act by which Christ was betrayed\nwas one that showed that all the external habits of affection\nremained still unbroken between him and the traitor. The kiss of\nJesus was sincere; he loved this wretched man as heavenly beings\nlove, and followed him with love to the last.\n\nIt would seem that towards the last part of the life of Jesus the\nmoral antagonism between himself and Judas grew more pronounced and\nintense.\n\nAs the spiritual life of Jesus waxed brighter and stronger, so much\nthe more vivid became the contrast between it and the worldly aims\nof the traitor. Judas saw the kind of worldly prosperity to which\nhe had aspired receding. He saw that Jesus, instead of using his\nsplendid miraculous powers to draw towards him the chiefs of his\nnation, was becoming every day more in antagonism with them. Instead\nof meeting the popular desire to make him a king he had drawn back\nfrom it, and by that very act lost many followers. His extreme\nspiritual teachings had disgusted many of his disciples and led them\nto go back and walk no more with him. And now the talk of Jesus was\nmore and more of persecutions and sufferings and death, as lying\njust before him. To a worldly eye all this looked like a fanatical\nthrowing away of the very brightest opportunity for fame and fortune\nand dominion that ever was given to a leader. Judas became sullenly\ndiscontented, not yet ready openly to throw off all hopes of what\nmight be got by adhering to his Master, but yet in a critical and\nfault-finding spirit surveying all his actions.\n\nIt is an awful thought that it was possible for a man to share the\ndaily bread of Jesus, to be in his family, treated as a beloved\nchild, to hear all his beautiful words, to listen to his prayers\nday after day, and yet, instead of melting, to grow colder and\nharder--to grow more earthly as his Master grew more heavenly, and\nto find this want of sympathy slowly hardening into a sullen enmity\nwhich only waited its hour to declare itself openly. Christ said to\nthe unbelieving Jews, \"Ye have both seen and hated both Me and my\nFather.\" Judas was fast preparing to join that party.\n\nAccording to the narrative of St. Matthew, it was after this rebuke\nin the matter of Mary that Judas went into negotiations with those\nwho were plotting the destruction of Jesus. He was a disappointed\nman. He had joined a party which he confidently expected to lead to\ntriumph, success, and wealth. Instead of this, Jesus had lost every\nopportunity, lost the favorable hour of popularity, and concentrated\non himself the hatred of the most powerful men of the nation, and\nnow was talking only of defeat and rejection.\n\nThe presence of Judas with the household was now that of a spy,\nwatching his occasion, but making no outward demonstration. He was\nin the little family circle that gathered in the upper room to eat\nthe last passover supper. His Master bent at his feet and washed\nthem, as he did those of the faithful ones, in that sacramental\naction when he showed them what he meant by true love. It was\ndirectly after this last act of affection that Jesus openly declared\nhis knowledge of the meditated treachery, for he said: \"I speak not\nof you all, I know whom I have chosen; but the Scripture must be\nfulfilled which saith, He that eateth bread with me hath lifted up\nhis heel against me.\" Then with a deep sigh he adds in plain words,\n\"Verily, verily, I say unto you, one of _you_ shall betray me.\"\n\nIt is a most lovely comment on the goodness of heart of these simple\nmen that in so solemn a moment no one of them thought of criminating\nthe other. Each one said tremblingly, \"Lord, is it I?\"\n\nJohn, leaning down on his Master's breast, inquired privately who it\nwas; and Jesus gave him a private sign that it should be he to whom\nhe gave a sop when he had dipped it. He dipped the sop, and gave it\nto Judas. Then Judas, still keeping up the show of innocence, said,\nlike the rest, \"Master, is it I?\" Jesus answered, \"Thou hast said\nit.\"\n\nIt is said that \"Satan entered into him\" at this moment. All the\nsmouldering elements of meanness, disgust, dislike of Jesus, his\nteaching, his spirit, and his mission were quickened by the presence\nof that invisible enemy who comes to the heart of man only when he\nis _called_ by the congenial indulgence of wicked passions.\n\nJudas rose hastily, and our Lord added, \"That thou doest, do\nquickly.\" He flung himself out and was gone.\n\nThe miserable sum for which he sold his Master, though\ninconsiderable in itself, was probably offered as first wages in a\nnew service. His new masters were the heads of Israel: all avenues\nof patronage and power were in their hands, and the fortune that\nhe could not make on the side of Jesus he might hope to gather on\nthat of his enemies. He may have compounded with his conscience by\nbelieving that the miraculous power of our Lord was such that there\nwas no danger of a fatal termination. In fact, that his being taken\nmight force him to declare himself and bring on the triumphant\nmoment of victory. He might possibly have said to himself that he\nwas at any rate acting the part of a mediator in bringing matters to\na crisis, and perhaps forcing a favorable result. For, when he found\nthat Jesus was indeed a victim, he was overwhelmed with remorse and\ndespair. He threw the wretched money at the feet of his tempters and\ndeparted and hanged himself, and went, as we are told, \"to his own\nplace.\"\n\nHe went to the place for which _he_ had fitted himself, who, living\nin the very bosom of Jesus, had grown more and more unlike him every\nday. He left Christ--driven by no force but his own wicked will. To\nthe last the love of God pursued him: his Master knelt and washed\nthe very feet that were so soon to hasten to betray him. It was with\na sorrowful spirit, a troubled heart, that Jesus said, \"Woe unto\nthat man by whom the Son of man is betrayed: good were it for that\nman if he never had been born.\"\n\nWithout attempting to solve the mysteries of this deepest of all\ntragedies, we may yet see some of the uses and purposes of it in\nregard to ourselves.\n\nOur Lord was appointed to suffer in all respects as his brethren;\nand the suffering of bearing with antagonistic and uncongenial\nnatures is one that the providence of God often imposes on us. There\nare often bound to us, in the closest intimacy of social or family\nties, natures hard and ungenial, with whom sympathy is impossible,\nand whose daily presence necessitates a constant conflict with an\nadverse influence. There are, too, enemies--open or secret--whose\nenmity we may feel yet cannot define. Our Lord, going before us in\nthis hard way, showed us how we should walk.\n\nIt will be appropriate to the solemn self-examination of the period\nof Lent to ask ourselves, Is there any false friend or covert\nenemy whom we must learn to tolerate, to forbear with, to pity and\nforgive? Can we in silent offices of love wash their feet as our\nMaster washed the feet of Judas? And if we have no real enemies,\nare there any bound to us in the relations of life whose habits and\nways are annoying and distasteful to us? Can we bear with them in\nlove? Can we avoid harsh judgments, and harsh speech, and the making\nknown to others our annoyance? Could we through storms of obloquy\nand evil report keep calmly on in duty, unruffled in love, and\ncommending ourselves to the judgment of God? The examination will\nprobably teach us to feel the infinite distance between us and our\ndivine Ideal, and change censoriousness of others into prayer for\nourselves.\n\n\n\n\nXXII\n\nGOING UP TO JERUSALEM\n\n_Palm Sunday_\n\n\nNothing in ancient or modern tragedy is so sublime and touching as\nthe simple account given by the Evangelists of the last week of our\nLord's earthly life.\n\nThe church has since his ascension so devoutly looked upon him as\nGod that we are in danger of losing the pathos and the power which\ncome from a consideration of his humanity. The Apostle tells us\nthat, in order that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest,\nhe was made in all respects like unto his brethren. He was a Jew.\nHis national and patriotic feeling was intense. To him the sacred\nnation, the temple service, with all its hymns and prayers and\nancient poetic recollections, were more dear than to any other man\nof his nation. The nation was his own, his peculiar, chosen people;\nhe was their head and flower, for whom the whole gorgeous ritual had\nbeen appointed, for whom the nation had been for centuries waiting.\nApart from his general tenderness and love for humanity was this\nspecial love of country and countrymen. Then there was the love of\nhis very own--the little church of tried, true, tested friends who\nhad devoted themselves to him; and, still within that, his family\ncircle, for whom his love was strong as a father's, tender and\nthoughtful as a mother's. And yet Jesus went through life bearing\nin his bosom the bitter thought that his nation would reject him\nand instigate one of his own friends to betray him, and that all\nseeming success and glory was to end in a cruel and shameful death.\nHe foresaw how every heart that loved him would be overwhelmed and\ncrushed with a misery beyond all human precedent.\n\nIt is affecting to read in the Evangelists how often and how\nearnestly Jesus tried to make his disciples realize what was coming.\n\"Let this saying sink down into your ears,\" he would say: \"the Son\nof man shall be delivered into the hands of men;\" and then would\nrecount, item by item, the overthrow, the agonies, the insults, the\ntorture, that were to be the end of his loving and gentle mission.\nAt various times and in various forms he took them aside and\nrepeated this prophecy. And it is said that they \"understood not his\nword;\" that \"they were astonished;\" that they \"feared to ask him;\"\nthat they \"questioned one with another what this should mean.\" It\nseems probable that, warmed with the flush of present and increasing\nprosperity and popularity, witnessing his victorious miracles, they\nhad thrown this dark prophecy by, as something inexplicable and\nnever literally to be accomplished. What it could mean they knew\nnot, but that it could have a literal fulfillment they seem none of\nthem to have even dreamed. Perhaps they were like many of us, in our\nreligion, in the habit of looking only on the bright, hopeful, and\neasily comprehensible side of things, and letting all that is dark\nand mysterious slide from the mind.\n\nUp to the very week before his crucifixion the power and popularity\nof Jesus seemed constantly increasing. His miracles were more\nopen, more impressive, more effective. The raising of Lazarus from\nthe dead had set the final crown on the glorious work. It would\nappear that Lazarus was a member of a well-known, influential\nfamily, moving in the higher circles of Jerusalem. It was a miracle\nwrought in the very heart and centre of knowledge and influence,\nand it raised the fame of the new prophet to the summit of glory.\nIt is an affecting comment on the worth of popular favor that\nthe very flood-tide of the fame and glory of Jesus was just five\ndays before he was crucified. On Monday--the day now celebrated\nin the Christian Church as Palm Sunday--he entered Jerusalem in\ntriumph, with palms waving, and garlands thrown at his feet, and the\nmultitudes going before and after, shouting Hosanna to the Son of\nDavid; and on Friday of the same week the whole multitude shouted,\n\"Away with him! Crucify him! Release unto us Barabbas! His blood be\nupon us and upon our children!\" and he was led through those same\nstreets to Calvary. On these six days before the death of Jesus the\nhistorians have expended a wealth of detail, so that the record of\nwhat is said and done is more than that of all the other portions of\nthat short life.\n\nThere are many touches of singular tenderness conveyed in very brief\nwords. Speaking of his final journey from Galilee to Jud\u00e6a, says\none: \"When the time came that he should be received up he set his\nface steadfastly to go to Jerusalem.\" Another narrates that when\nhe was going up to Jerusalem he walked before his disciples, and\nas they followed him they were afraid. Evidently he was wrapped\nin an electric cloud of emotion; he was swept along by a mighty\ninfluence--tides of feeling deeper than they could comprehend were\nrolling in his soul, and there was that atmosphere of silence and\nmystery about him by which the inward power of great souls casts an\noutward sphere of awe about them. Still, as they walked behind, they\nhad their political dreams of a coming reign of power and splendor,\nwhen the Jud\u00e6an nation should rule the world, and they, as nearest\nto the Master, should administer the government of the nation--for\nit is said, by the way they \"disputed who should be the greatest.\"\n\nHe hears their talk, as a dying mother, who knows that a few hours\nwill leave her children orphans, listens to the contentions of the\nnursery. He turns to them and makes a last effort to enlighten\nthem--to let them know that not earthly glory and a kingdom are\nbefore them, but cruelty, rejection, shame, and death. He recounts\nthe future, circumstantially, and with what deep energy and solemn\npathos of voice and manner may be imagined. They make no answer, but\nshrink back, look one on another, and are afraid to ask more. It\nwould seem, however, that there was _one_ in the band on whom these\nwords made an impression. Judas evidently thought that, if this was\nto be the end of all, he had been taken in and deceived: a sudden\nfeeling of irritation arises against One who having such evident\nand splendid miraculous power is about to give up in this way and\nlose his opportunity and suffer himself to be defeated. Judas is all\nready now to make the best terms for himself with the winning party.\nThe others follow in fear and trembling. The strife who shall be\ngreatest subsides into a sort of anxious questioning.\n\nThey arrive at a friendly house where they are to spend the Sabbath,\nthe last Sabbath of his earthly life. There was a feast made for\nhim, and we see him surrounded by grateful friends. By the fact\nthat Martha waited on the guests and that Lazarus sat at the table\nit would appear that this feast was in the house of a relative of\nthat family. It is said to have occurred in the house of \"Simon\nthe Leper\"--perhaps the leper to whom Jesus said, \"I will--be thou\nclean.\"\n\nHere Mary, with the abandon which marks her earnest and poetic\nnature, breaks a costly vase of balm and sheds the perfume on the\nhead of her Lord. It was an action in which she offered up her\nwhole self--her heart and her life--to be spent for him, like that\nfleeting perfume. Judas expostulates, \"To what purpose is this\nwaste?\" There is an answering flash from Jesus, like lightning from\na summer cloud. The value that our Lord sets upon love is nowhere\nmore energetically expressed. This trembling, sensitive heart has\noffered itself up wholly to him, and he accepts and defends it.\nThere is a touch of human pathos in the words, \"She is anointing me\nfor my burial.\" Her gift had all the sacredness in his eyes of a\ndeath-bed act of tenderness, and he declares, \"Wheresoever through\nthe world this gospel shall be preached, there also shall what this\nwoman hath done be told for a memorial of her.\"\n\nJudas slinks back, sullen and silent. The gulf between him and his\nMaster grows hourly more palpable--as the nature that cannot love\nand the nature to whom love is all come in close collision. Judas\nand Christ cannot blend any more than oil and water, and the nearer\napproach only makes the conflict of nature more evident.\n\nOn Monday morning, the day that we now celebrate as Palm Sunday,\nJesus enters Jerusalem. We are told that the great city, now full\nof Jews come up from all parts of the world, was moved about him.\nWe have in the Book of Acts an enumeration of the varieties in\nthe throng that filled Jerusalem at this time: \"Parthians, Medes,\nElamites, dwellers in Mesopotamia and in Jud\u00e6a and Cappadocia, in\nPontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, in Egypt and in the parts\nof Libya about Cyrene, and strangers of Rome, Jews and Proselytes,\nCretes and Arabians.\" When all these strangers heard the shouting,\nit is said the \"whole city was moved, saying, Who is this? And the\nmultitude said, This is Jesus, the Prophet of Nazareth in Galilee.\"\n\nAnd what was He thinking of, as he came thus for the last time to\nthe chosen city? We are told \"And when he drew near and beheld the\ncity, he wept over it, saying, If thou hadst known, even thou in\nthis thy day, the things that belong to thy peace! but now they\nare hid from thine eyes.\" Then follows the prophetic vision of the\ndestruction of Jerusalem--scenes of horror and despair for which his\ngentle spirit bled inwardly.\n\nOne feature of the picture is touching: the children in the temple\ncrying, \"Hosanna to the Son of David!\" The love of Jesus for\nchildren is something marked and touching. When he rested from his\nlabors at eventide, it was often, we are told, with a little child\nin his arms--children were his favorite image for the heavenly\nlife, and he had bid the mothers to bring them to him as emblems\nof the better world. The children were enthusiastic for him, they\nbroke forth into rapture at his coming as birds in the sunshine,\nloud and noisily as children will, to the great discomfiture of\npriests and Scribes. \"Master! bid them hush,\" they said. He turned,\nindignant--\"If these should hold their peace the very stones would\ncry out.\" These evidences of love from dear little children were the\nlast flower thrown at the feet of Jesus on his path to death. From\nthat day the way to the cross was darker every hour.\n\n\n\n\nXXIII\n\nTHE BARREN FIG-TREE\n\n_Monday in Passion Week_\n\n\nDuring the last week of the life of Jesus we see him under the most\nawful pressure of emotion; the crisis of a great tragedy, which has\nbeen slowly gathering and growing from the beginning of the world,\nis now drawing on. The nation that he had chosen--that he had borne\nand carried through all the days of old--was now to consummate her\nruin in his rejection. All his words and actions during the last\nweek of his life were under the shadow of that cloud of doom which\noverhung the city of Jerusalem, the temple, and the people whom he\nhad loved, so earnestly and so long, in vain.\n\nWhen going up to Jerusalem he walked before his disciples, silent\nand absorbed; and they dared scarcely speak to him. Amid the\ntriumphant shouts of the people that welcomed him to the city he\npaused on the verge of Olivet and wept over it. He saw the siege,\nthe famine, the terror of women and helpless children, the misery\nand despair, the unutterable agonies of the sacking of Jerusalem,\nwhich has been a world's wonder; and he broke forth in lamentation.\n\"Oh, that thou hadst known--even thou in this thy day--the things\nthat belong to thy peace! But now they are hid from thine eyes.\"\n\nAll his discourses of this last week are shaded with the sad\ncoloring and prophetic vision of coming doom, of a crime hastening\nto fulfillment that should bring a long-delayed weight of wrath and\nvengeance.\n\nHis parables now turn on this theme. One day they tell of a\nhusbandman intrusting a vineyard to the care of faithless servants;\nhe sends messengers to overlook them; they beat one and stone\nanother, till finally he sends his only and beloved son, and then\nthey say, \"Let us kill him;\" and they catch him and cast him out\nof the vineyard and slay him. \"What,\" he asks, \"shall the Lord of\nthe vineyard do to these husbandmen?\" Again, he speaks of a feast\nto which all are generously invited, and all neglect or reject the\ninvitation, and not only reject but insult and despise and ill-treat\nthe messengers who bear the invitation; and tells how the insulted\nKing sends the invitation to others, and decrees, \"None of these\nmen shall taste of my supper.\" He tells of a wedding feast, and of\nfoolish virgins who slumber with unfilled lamps till the door of\nwelcome is shut. He tells of a king, who, having intrusted talents\nto his servants, comes again to reckon, and takes away the talent of\nthe unfaithful one and casts him to outer darkness.\n\nAll these themes speak of the approaching rejection of the nation on\nwhom God has heaped so many favors for many years. The thought of\ntheir doom seems to press down the heart of the Redeemer.\n\nThe twenty-third chapter of Matthew contains Christ's last sermon\nin the temple--his final words of leave-taking of his people; and\na most dreadful passage it is. It is awful, it is pathetic, to\ncompare those fearful words with his first benignant announcement at\nNazareth. Nothing in human language can be conceived more terrible\nthan these last denunciations of the rejected Lord and Lover of the\nchosen race. He exposes with scathing severity the hypocrisy, the\ngreed, the cruelty of the leaders of the nation; he denounces them\nas the true descendants of those who of old killed God's prophets\nand stoned his messengers, and ends by rising into the very majesty\nof the Godhead in declaring their final doom:--\n\n     \"Fill ye up the measure of your fathers. Ye serpents! Ye\n     generation of vipers! How can ye escape the damnation of hell?\n     Wherefore, behold, I send unto you prophets and wise men and\n     scribes; and some of them ye shall kill and crucify, and some\n     of them ye shall scourge in your synagogues and persecute from\n     city to city. That upon you might come all the righteous blood\n     shed upon earth, from the blood of righteous Abel to the blood\n     of Zacharias,[5] the son of Barachias, whom ye slew between the\n     temple and the altar. Verily I say unto you all these shall come\n     upon this generation!\n\n     \"O Jerusalem! Jerusalem! thou that killest the prophets and\n     stonest those that are sent unto thee--how often would I have\n     gathered thy children together, even as a hen doth gather her\n     brood under her wings--and ye would not. Behold, your house is\n     left unto you desolate, for I say that ye shall see me no more\n     henceforth till ye say, Blessed is he that cometh in the name of\n     the Lord.\"\n\n  [5] See 2 Chronicles xxiv. 20, 21.\n\n\"And the spirit of the Lord came upon Zechariah, the son of Jehoida\nthe priest, who stood among the people, and said, Why transgress ye\nthe commandments of the Lord, that ye cannot prosper? Because ye\nhave forsaken the Lord he also hath forsaken you. And they conspired\nagainst him and stoned him with stones in the court of the house of\nthe Lord.\"\n\nThese two instances, of Abel and Zacharias, cited by our Lord from\nthe very first and very last of the sacred historic books, seemed\nto cover the whole ground of their history. The variation as to the\nname of the prophet's father has many theories to account for it,\nany one of which is satisfactory.\n\nThis was Christ's last farewell--his valedictory to those whom he\nhad loved and labored for, and who would not come to him that he\nmight give them life.\n\nTo all these awful words was added the language of an awful symbol.\nIn one of his parables our Lord had spoken of the Jewish nation\nunder the figure of a tree which, though carefully tended year by\nyear, bore no fruit. At last the word goes forth, \"Cut it down!\" But\nthe keeper of the vineyard intercedes and prays that it may have a\nlonger space of cultured care, and so be brought to fruit-bearing.\nThis last week of our Lord's life he sets forth the solemn close\nof that parable by one of those symbolic acts common among the old\nprophets and well understood by the Jews.\n\nApproaching a fair and promising tree on his way into the city, he\nseeks fruit thereon, but finds it barren. There is a pause, and then\na voice of deep sadness says, \"No fruit grow on thee henceforth and\nforever!\" and immediately the fig-tree withered away.\n\nIt was an outward symbol of that doomed city whose day of mercy was\npast. The awfulness of these last words and of this last significant\nsign is increased by the tenderness of Him who gave them forth.\nIt is the Fountain of Pity, the All-Loving One, that uttered the\ndoom--a doom made certain and inevitable not by God's will but by\nman's perversity.\n\nThe lesson that we have to learn is the reality and awfulness of\nsin, the reality of that persistence in wickedness that can make\neven the love of Jesus vain for our salvation. For what hope, what\nhelp, what salvation can there be for those who cannot be reached by\nHis love? If they have seen and hated both him and his Father--what\nremains?\n\n\n\n\nXXIV\n\nCAIAPHAS\n\n_Tuesday in Passion Week_\n\n\nThe thought may arise to many minds, if Jesus was so lovely, so\nattractive, and so beloved, how could it have been possible that he\nshould be put to so cruel a death in the very midst of a people whom\nhe loved and for whom he labored?\n\nThe sacred record shows us why. It was this very attractiveness,\nthis very power over men's hearts, that was the cause and reason\nof the conspiracy against Jesus. We have a brief and very dramatic\naccount of the meeting of the Sanhedrim in which the death of Christ\nwas finally resolved upon, and we find that very popularity urged\nas a reason why he cannot be permitted to live. In John xi. 47, we\nare told that after the raising of Lazarus the chief priests and\nPharisees gathered a council and said, \"What do we? this man doeth\nmany miracles. If we let him thus alone all men will believe on him,\nand the Romans will come and take away our place and nation.\"\n\nThere is the case stated plainly, and we see that these men talked\nthen just as men in our days talk. Do they ever resolve on an act\nof oppression or cruelty, calling it by its right name? Never. It\nis a \"sacrifice\" to some virtue; and the virtue in this case was\npatriotism.\n\nHere is the Jewish nation, a proud and once powerful people,\ncrushed and writhing under the heel of the conquering Romans. They\nare burning with hatred of their oppressors and with a desire of\nrevenge, longing for the Messiah that shall lead them to conquest\nand make their nation the head of the world.\n\nAnd now, here comes this Jesus and professes to be the\nlong-promised leader; and what does he teach? Love and forgiveness\nof enemies; patient endurance of oppression and wrong; and supreme\ndevotion to the pure inner life of the soul. If Roman tax-gatherers\ndistrain upon their property and force them to carry it from place\nto place, they are to meet it only by free good will, that is,\nwillingness to go two miles when one is asked. If the extortionate\nofficer seizes their coat, they are to show only a kindliness that\nis willing to give even more than that.\n\nThey are to love their bitterest enemies, pity and pray for them,\nand continue in unbroken kindness, even as God's sunshine falls in\nunmoved benignity on the just and the unjust!\n\nIt must have inflamed these haughty, ambitious leaders to fury to\nsee all their brilliant visions of war and conquest and national\nindependence melting away in a mist of what seemed to them the mere\nimpossible sentimentalism of love. And yet this illusion gains\nground daily; Christ is received in triumph at Jerusalem, and the\nrulers say to each other, \"Perceive ye how we prevail nothing?\nbehold the whole world is gone out after him.\"\n\nNow, in the Jewish Sanhedrim Christ had friends and followers.\nWe are told of Joseph of Arimathea, who would not consent to the\ndeeds of the council. We are told of Nicodemus, who before now had\nspoken boldly in the council, demanding justice and a fair hearing\nfor Jesus. We may well believe that so extreme a course as was now\nproposed met at first strong opposition. There seems to have been\nsome warm discussion. We may imagine what it was: that Jesus was a\njust and noble man, a prophet, a man all of whose deeds and words\nhad been pure and beneficent, was doubtless earnestly urged. The\nadvocates, it is true, were not men who had left all to follow\nhim, or enrolled themselves openly as his disciples, but yet they\ncould not consent to so monstrous an injustice as this. That the\ndiscussion produced strong feeling is evident from the excited\nmanner in which Caiaphas sums up: \"Ye know nothing at all, nor\nconsider that it is better that one man should die than that the\nwhole nation should perish.\" That was the case as he viewed it,\nand he talked precisely as men in our days have often talked when\nconsenting to an injustice or oppression: Say what you will of this\nJesus; I will not dispute you. Admit, if you please, his virtues and\ngood works; still, he is a wrong-headed man, that will be the ruin\nof our nation. Either he must perish or the nation be destroyed.\n\nAnd so, on the altar of patriotism this murder was laid as a\nsacrifice. And it was this same burning, impatient national spirit\nof independence that slew Christ which afterwards provoked the Roman\ngovernment beyond endurance, and brought upon Jerusalem wrath to the\nuttermost.\n\nThe very children and grandchildren of Caiaphas died in untold\nmiseries in that day of wrath and doom. The decision to reject\nChrist was the decision which destroyed Jerusalem with a destruction\nmore awful than any other recorded in history.\n\nWe are apt to consider the actors in this great tragedy as sinners\nabove all others. But every day and every hour in our times just\nsuch deeds are being re\u00ebnacted.\n\nThere were all sorts of sinners in that tragedy: Caiaphas, who\nsacrificed one whom he knew to be a noble and good man to political\nambition; Pilate, who consented to an acknowledged wrong from dread\nof personal inconvenience; Judas, who made the best of his time in\nselling out a falling cause to the newcomers; Peter, the impetuous\nfriend suddenly frightened into denial; the twelve, forsaking\nand fleeing in a moment of weakness; the multitude of careless\nspectators, those tide-waiters who turn as the flood turns, who\nshouted for Jesus yesterday because others were shouting, and turn\nagainst him to-day because he is unpopular. All these were there.\nOn the other hand, there were the faithful company of true-hearted\nwomen that went with Jesus weeping on his way to the cross; that\nbeloved disciple and the Mother that stood by him to the last; all\nthese, both friends and foes, represent classes of people who still\nlive and still act their part in this our day.\n\n    \"For, when under fierce oppression,\n    Goodness suffers like transgression,\n        Christ again is crucified;\n    But if love be there true-hearted,\n    By no pain or terror parted,\n        Mary stands the cross beside!\"\n\n\n\n\nXXV\n\nTHE JOY OF CHRIST\n\n_Wednesday in Passion Week_\n\n\nThe last chapters of St. John--in particular from the thirteenth to\nthe seventeenth--are worthy, more than anything else in the sacred\nwritings, of the designation which has been given them, The Heart of\nJesus. They are the language of the most intimate love, to the most\nintimate friends, in view of the greatest and most inconceivable\nof human sorrows. For, though the disciples--poor, humble, simple\nmen--were dazed, confused, and misty up to the very moment when they\nwere entering upon the greatest sorrow of their life, the Master who\nwas leading them saw it all with perfect clearness. He saw perfectly\nnot only the unspeakable humiliation and anguish that were before\nhimself, but the disappointment, the terror, the dismay, the utter\ndarkness and despair that were just before these humble, simple\nfriends who had invested all their love and hope in him.\n\nWhen we think of this it will seem all the more strange, the more\nunworldly and divine to find that in these very chapters our Lord\nspeaks more often, and with more emphasis, of JOY than in any other\npart of the New Testament. In the fifteenth he says, \"These things\nhave I spoken unto you that my joy might remain in you, and that\nyour joy might be full.\" And again, in his prayer for them, he says,\n\"And now come I to thee; and these things I speak in the world that\nthey might have my joy fulfilled in themselves.\" He speaks of his\njoy as a treasure he longed to impart--as something which overflowed\nhis own soul, and sought to equalize itself by flowing into the\nsouls of his friends. He was not only full of joy, but he had\nfullness of joy to give away.\n\nThis joy of Christ in the approach of extremest earthly anguish and\nsorrow is one of the beautiful mysteries of our faith. It is a holy\nnight-flower, opening only in darkness, and shedding in the very\nshadow of death light and perfume; or like the solemn splendor of\nthe stars, to be seen only in the deepest darkness.\n\nIn the representations made of our Lord as a man of sorrows we\nare too apt to forget the solemn emphasis with which he asserts\nthis fullness of joy. But let us look at his position on the mere\nhuman side. At the hour when he thus spoke he knew that, so far\nas the salvation of his nation was concerned, his life-work had\nbeen a failure. His own people had rejected him and had bargained\nwith a member of his own family to betray him. He knew the exact\ndetails of the scourging, the scoffing, the taunts, the torture,\nthe crucifixion; and to a sensitive soul the hour of approach to\na great untried agony is often the hour of bitterest trial. It is\nwhen we foresee a great trouble in the dimness of to-morrow that\nour undisciplined hearts grow faint and fail us. But he who had\nlong foreseen--who had counted in advance--every humiliation,\nevery sorrow, and every pain, spoke at the same time of his joy as\nan overflowing fullness. He spoke of his peace as something which\nhe had a divine power to give away. The world saw that night a new\nsight--a sufferer who had touched the extreme of all earthly loss\nand sorrow, who yet stood, like a God, offering to give Peace and\nJoy--even fullness of joy. For our Lord intensifies the idea. He\nwants his children not to have joy merely, but to be full of joy.\nThis is the meaning of the words to \"have my joy fulfilled in them.\"\n\nWe shall see in the affecting history of the next few hours of the\nlife of Jesus that this heavenly joy was capable of a temporary\nobscuration. He was aware that a trial was coming from a direct\ncollision with the Evil Spirit. \"The Prince of this world cometh,\nbut hath nothing in me.\"\n\nYet we cannot but feel that the mysterious agonies of Gethsemane,\nthat wrung the blood-drops from his heart, were in part due to\nthat conflict with cruel and malignant spirits. It is the greatest\npossible help to our poor sorrowful nature that these struggles,\nthese strong cryings and bitter tears of our Lord, have been\nrecorded, because it helps us to feel that he was not peaceful\nbecause he was passionless--that his joy and peace did not come\nfrom the serenity of a nature incapable of sorrow and struggles\nlike ours. There are passages in the experience of such saints as\nMadame Guyon that seem like the unnatural exaltations of souls\nexceptionally indifferent to circumstances; nothing makes any\ndifference to them; one thing is just as good as another. But\nin the experience of Jesus we see our own most shrinking human\nrepellencies. We see that there were sufferings that he dreaded with\nhis whole soul; sorrows which he felt to be beyond even his power of\nendurance; and so when he said, \"Not my will, but Thy will,\" he said\nit with full vision of what he was accepting; and in that unshaken,\nthat immovable oneness of will with the Father lay the secret of his\njoy and victory.\n\nIt is a great and solemn thing for us to think of this joy of Christ\nin sorrow. It is something that we can know only in and by sorrow.\nBut sorrows are so many in this world of ours! Griefs, sickness,\ndisappointment, want, death, so beset our footsteps that it is worth\neverything to us to think of that joy of Christ that is brightest as\nthe hour grows darkest. It is a gift. It is not in us. We cannot get\nit by any human reasonings or the mere exercise of human will, but\nwe can get it as a free gift from Jesus Christ.\n\nIf in the hour of his deepest humiliation and suffering he had\njoy and peace to give away, how much more now, when he is exalted\nat the right hand of God, to give gifts unto men! Poor sorrowful,\nsuffering, struggling souls, Christ longs to comfort you. \"I will\ngive to him that is athirst the water of life freely.\" \"Come unto\nme, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.\"\n\n\n\n\nXXVI\n\nGETHSEMANE\n\n_Thursday in Passion Week_\n\n\nThere are times in life when human beings are called to sorrows that\nseem so hopeless, so cruel, that they take from the spirit all power\nof endurance. There are agonies that overwhelm, that crush,--their\nonly language seems to be a groan of prostrate anguish. There are\ndistresses against which the heart cries out, \"It is too much. I\ncannot, cannot bear it. God have mercy on me!\"\n\nIt was for people who suffer thus, for those who are capable of\nsuch depths and who are called to go through them, that the great\nApostle and High Priest of our profession passed through that\nbaptism of agony in the Garden of Gethsemane. The Apostle says, \"It\nbecame him for whom are all things, and by whom are all things, in\nbringing many sons and daughters unto glory, to make the Captain\nof their salvation perfect through suffering.\" And it was at this\nhour and time that he was to pass through such depths that no child\nof his could ever go deeper. Alone, and without the possibility of\nhuman sympathy, he was to test those uttermost distresses possible\nto the most exceptional natures. Jesus suffered _all_ that he could\nendure and live. The record is given with great particularity by\nthree Evangelists, and is full of mysterious suggestion. Up to this\nperiod all the discourses of our Lord, in distinct view of his final\nsufferings, had been full of calmness and courage. He had consoled\nhis little flock, and bid them not be troubled, speaking cheerfully\nof a joy that should repay the brief anguish of separation. He not\nonly was wholly at peace in his own soul, but felt that he had peace\nin abundance to give away. \"Peace I leave with you, my peace I give\nunto you; not as the world giveth give I unto you. Let not your\nheart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.\"\n\nYet he went forth from speaking these very words, and this is\nthe account of the scene that followed, collated from the three\nEvangelists:--\n\n     \"Then cometh Jesus with them unto the place that is called\n     Gethsemane, and said to his disciples, Sit ye here while I go\n     and pray yonder. And he took with him Peter and James and John,\n     and began to be sore amazed, and to be very heavy (in extreme\n     anguish). And he said unto them, My soul is exceeding sorrowful,\n     even unto death; tarry ye here and watch with me, and pray that\n     ye enter not into temptation. And he went forward a little, and\n     fell on his face and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour\n     might pass from him, saying, My Father, if it be possible, let\n     this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou\n     wilt. And he cometh unto his disciples and findeth them asleep,\n     and saith unto Peter, What! could ye not watch with me one hour?\n     Watch and pray that ye enter not into temptation; the spirit\n     indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak. He went away again the\n     second time, and prayed, and said, Abba, Father, all things are\n     possible unto thee; take away this cup from me; nevertheless,\n     not what I will, but what thou wilt. O my Father, if this cup\n     may not pass away from me except I drink it, thy will be done.\n     And he came and found them asleep again; for their eyes were\n     heavy, neither wist they what to answer him. And he left them\n     and went away the third time, and prayed, saying the same words.\n     And, being in an agony, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat\n     was as it were great drops of blood, falling down to the ground,\n     and there appeared to him an angel from heaven strengthening him.\n\n     \"And when he rose up from prayer and was come to his disciples,\n     he findeth them sleeping for sorrow, and saith unto them, Sleep\n     on now--rest.\"\n\nThere seems here evidence that the anguish, whatever it was, had\npassed, and that Jesus had returned to his habitual peace. He looks\nwith pity on the poor tired followers whose sympathy had failed him\njust when he most needed it, and says, \"Poor souls, let them sleep\nfor a little and rest.\"\n\nAfter an interval he rouses them. \"It is enough--the hour is come;\nthe Son of man is betrayed into the hand of sinners. Rise up; let us\ngo: behold, he is at hand that doth betray me.\"\n\nThe supposition that it was the final agony of the cross which Jesus\nprayed to be delivered from is inconsistent with his whole life and\ncharacter. He had kept that end in view from the beginning of his\nlife. He said, in view of it, \"I have a baptism to be baptized with,\nand how am I straitened till it be accomplished!\" He rebuked Peter\nin the sharpest terms for suggesting that he should avoid those\npredicted sufferings. Going up to Jerusalem to die, he walked before\nthe rest, as if impelled by a sacred ardor to fulfill his mission.\nFurthermore, in the Epistle to the Hebrews we are taught thus: the\nwriter says, speaking of the Saviour, \"Who in the days of his flesh\noffered up prayers with strong crying and tears to him that was able\nto save him from death, and _was heard_ in that he feared.\" Whatever\nrelief it was that our Lord supplicated with such earnestness, it\nwas given; and he went forth from the dreadful anguish in renewed\nand perfect peace.\n\nWe may not measure the depths of that anguish or its causes. Our\nLord gives some intimation of one feature in it by saying, as he\nprepared to go forth to it, \"The Prince of this World cometh, and\nhath nothing in me;\" and in warning his disciples, \"Pray that ye\nenter not into temptation.\" The expression employed by St. Mark\nto describe the anguish is indicative of a sudden rush--of an\namazement, as if a new possibility of suffering, overwhelming and\nterrible, had been disclosed to him, such a sorrow as it seemed must\ndestroy life--\"exceeding sorrowful, even unto death.\"\n\nLet these words remain in all their depths, in all their mystery,\nas standing for that infinite possibility of pain which the one\ndivine Man was to taste for every man. There have been facts in\nhuman experience analogous. We are told that the night before his\nexecution, Jerome of Prague, in his lonely prison, condemned and\nheld accursed by the proud Scribes and Pharisees, the Christian\nSanhedrim of his times, fainted and groaned and prayed as Jesus in\nGethsemane. Martin Luther has left on record a wonderful prayer,\nwritten the night before the Diet of Worms, when he, a poor, simple\nmonk, was called before the great Diet of the Empire to answer for\nhis faith. Such strong crying and tears--such throbbing words--that\nseem literally like drops of blood falling down to the ground,\nattest that Luther was passing through Gethsemane. Alone, with all\nthe visible power of the Church and the world against him, his\nposition was like that of Jesus. A crisis was coming when he was\nto witness for truth, and he felt that only God was for him, and\nhe appeals to him: \"Hast thou not chosen me to do this work? I ask\nthee, O God, O thou my God, where art thou? Art thou dead? No, thou\ncanst not die; thou art only hiding thyself.\"\n\nIn many private histories there are Gethsemanes. There are\nvisitations of sudden, overpowering, ghastly troubles,--troubles\nthat transcend all ordinary human sympathy, such as the helpless\nhuman soul has to wrestle with alone. And it was because in this\nblind struggle of life such crushing experiences are to be meted out\nto the children of men that Infinite Love provided us with a divine\nFriend who had been through the deepest of them all, and come out\nvictorious.\n\nIn the sudden wrenches which come by the entrance of death into\nour family circles, there is often an inexplicable depth of misery\nthat words cannot tell. No outer words can tell what a trial is to\nthe soul. Only Jesus, who, as the Head of the human race, united in\nhimself every capability of human suffering, and proved them all, in\norder that he might help us, only he has an arm strong enough and\na voice tender enough to reach us. The stupor of the disciples in\nthe agony of Jesus is a sort of parable or symbol of the inevitable\n_loneliness_ of the deepest kind of sorrow. There are friends,\nloving, honest, true, but they cannot watch with us through such\nhours. It is like the hour of death--nobody can go with us. But\nhe who knows what it is so to suffer; he who has felt the horror,\nthe amazement, the heart-sick dread--who has fallen on his face\novercome, and prayed with cryings and tears and the bloody sweat of\nagony--he can understand us and can help us. He can send an angel\nfrom heaven to comfort us when every human comforter is \"sleeping\nfor sorrow.\" It was Gethsemane which gave Jesus the power to bring\nmany sons and daughters unto glory.\n\nAnd it may comfort us under such trials to hope that as he thus\ngained an experience and a tenderness which made him mighty to\ncomfort and to save, so we, in our humbler measure, may become\ncomforters to others. When the experience is long past, when the\nwounds of the heart are healed, then we may find it good to have\ndrank of Christ's cup, and gone down in that baptism with him. We\nmay find ourselves with hearts tenderer to feel, and stronger to\nsustain others; even as the Apostle says, he \"comforteth us in all\nour tribulations, that we may be able to comfort them that are in\nany trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of\nGod.\"\n\n\n\n\nXXVII\n\nTHE LAST WORDS OF JESUS\n\n_Good Friday_\n\n\nA peculiar sacredness always attaches to the words of the dying.\nIn that lonely pass between the here and the hereafter the meanest\nsoul becomes in a manner a seer, and a mysterious interest invests\nit. But the last utterances of great and noble spirits, of minds of\nvast feeling and depth, are of still deeper significance. The last\nutterances of great men would form a pathetic collection and a food\nfor deep ponderings. It is no wonder, then, that the traditions of\nthe Christian Church have attached a special value to the last words\nof Jesus on the cross.\n\nThe last words of Socrates, reported by Plato, have had an undying\ninterest. These words were spoken in the bosom of sympathizing\nfriends and in the enjoyment of physical quiet and composure. Death\nwas at hand; but it was a death painless and easy, and undisturbing\nto the flow of thought or emotion.\n\nThe death of Jesus, on the contrary, was death with every\naggravation and horror which could make it fearful. There was\neverything to torture the senses and to obscure the soul. It was\na whirl of vulgar obloquy and abuse, confusing to the spirit,\nand following upon protracted exhaustion from sleeplessness and\nsuffering of various kinds for long hours.\n\nIn the case of most human beings we might wish to hide our eyes from\nthe sight of such an agony; we might refuse to listen to what must\nbe the falterings and the weaknesses of a noble spirit overwhelmed\nand borne down beyond the power of human endurance. But no such\ndanger attends the listening to the last words on Calvary. They\nhave been collected into a rosary embodying the highest Christian\nexperience possible to humanity, the most signal victory of love\nover pain and of good over evil that the world's history presents.\n\nDuring Passion Week in Rome no services are more impressive than\nthose of the seven \"last words,\" with the hymns, prayers, and\nexhortations accompanying them. To us the mere quotation of them,\nunattended by sermon or hymn or prayer, is a litany of awful power.\nHave we ever pondered these as they were spoken in their order in\nthe words of the simple Gospel narrative?\n\n\"And when they came to the place that is called Calvary, there they\ncrucified him and the malefactors, the one on his right hand and\nthe other on his left. Then said Jesus, _Father, forgive them; they\nknow not what they do_.\" This is the first word. Against physical\nviolence and pain there is in us all a reaction of the animal nature\nwhich expresses itself often in the form of irritation. Thus, in\nstrong, undisciplined natures, the first shock of physical torture\nbrings out a curse, and it is only after an interval that reason\nand conscience gain the ascendency and make the needed allowance. In\nthese strange words of Jesus we feel that there is the sharp shock\nof a new sense of pain, but it wrings from him only prayer. This\ndivine sweetness of love was unvanquished; the habit of tenderness\nand consideration for the faults of others furnished an instant\nplea. The poor brutal Roman soldiers--they know not what they do!\nThe foolish multitude who three days before shouted \"Hosanna,\" and\nnow shout \"Crucify\"--they know not what they do! How strange to the\nRoman soldiers must those words have sounded, if they understood\nthem! \"What manner of man is this?\" It is not surprising that\ntradition numbers these poor soldiers among the earliest converts to\nJesus.\n\nThe second utterance was on this wise:--\n\n     \"And the people that stood beholding, and the rulers also\n     with them, derided him, saying, He saved others; let him save\n     himself, if he be Christ, the chosen of God. And the soldiers\n     also mocked him, coming to him and offering him vinegar; and one\n     of the malefactors railed on him, saying, If thou be the Son of\n     God, save thyself and us. But the other answering, rebuked him,\n     saying, Dost thou not fear God, seeing that thou art in the same\n     condemnation?--and we, indeed, justly, for we receive the reward\n     of our deeds; but this man hath done nothing amiss. And he said\n     to Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.\n     And Jesus said unto him, _Verily, I say unto thee, to-day thou\n     shalt be with me in Paradise_.\"\n\nStill unvanquished by pain, he is even with his last breath\npronouncing words of grace and consolation for the guilty and\nrepentant! He is mighty to save even in his humiliation!\n\nThe third utterance is recorded by St. John as follows:--\n\n     \"Now there stood by the cross of Jesus his mother, and his\n     mother's sister, Mary the wife of Cleophas, and Mary Magdalene.\n     When Jesus, therefore, saw his mother standing, and the\n     disciple whom he loved, he said to his mother, _Woman, behold\n     thy son_, and to the disciple, _Son, behold thy mother_.\"\n\nThus far, every utterance of Jesus has been one of thoughtful\nconsideration for others, of prayer for his enemies, of grace and\npardon to the poor wretch by his side, and of tenderness to his\nmother and disciple. But in tasting death for every man our Lord was\nto pass through a deeper experience; he was to know the sufferings\nof the darkened brain, which, clogged and impeded by the obstructed\ncirculation, no longer afforded a clear medium for divine communion.\nHe was to suffer the eclipse which the animal nature in its dying\nstate can interpose between the soul and God. Three hours we are\ntold had passed, when there was darkness over all the land, like\nthat that was slowly gathering over the head of the suffering Lord.\n\"And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, _Eloi,\nEloi, lama sabacthani_, which is, being interpreted, My God, my\nGod, why hast thou forsaken me?\" Those words, from the Psalm of\nDavid, come now as the familiar language expressive of that dreadful\nexperience to which the whole world looks as its ransom:--\n\n     \"After that, Jesus said, _I thirst_. And one ran and filled a\n     sponge full of vinegar and put it on a reed and gave him to\n     drink. And when he had received the vinegar, he said, _It is\n     finished_, and he bowed his head.\"\n\nWhat we read of his last utterance is that \"he cried with a loud\nvoice, and gave up the ghost.\" This last loud utterance was in the\nwords, \"Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.\"\n\nIt is the interpretation that the church has given to these last\nwords that they betokened a sudden flame of joyful perception,\nsuch as sometimes lights up the brain at the dying moment, after\nit has been darkened by the paralysis of death. As he said, \"It is\nfinished,\" light, and joy, and hope, flushed his soul, and with\nthis loud cry of victory and joy, it departed like a ray of heavenly\nlight to the bosom of the Father.\n\nSuch were the seven \"last utterances\" of Jesus--and when can we\nhope to attain to what they teach? When shall _we_ be so grounded\nin Love that no tumult or jar of outward forces, no insults, no\nphysical weariness, exhaustion, or shock of physical pain, shall\nhave power to absorb us in selfishness, or make us forgetful of\nothers? When shall pity and prayer be the only spontaneous movement\nof our hearts when most hurt and injured--pierced in the tenderest\nnerve? When shall thoughtfulness for others, and divine pity for\ndegraded natures, be the immovable habit of our souls? How little of\n_self_ and its sufferings in these last words; how much of pity and\nlove--the pity and love of a God!\n\nCould we but learn life's lessons by them, then will come at last to\nus the final hour, when, _our_ trial being completed, we shall say\n\"It is finished,\" and pass like him to the bosom of the Father.\n\n\n\n\nXXVIII\n\nTHE DARKEST HOUR\n\n_Good Friday Evening_\n\n\nWhat is the darkest hour to us when our friends die? Not the dying\nhour; for then love has some last act, some last word to receive,\nsome comfort to give, some service to render, that diverts from the\nbitterness of pain. Not even when the eyes are closed forever, and\nthe face is fixed in marble stillness; for still we gather at the\nside of the cold clay and feel as if there were something left us of\nour love. But when we have carried our dear ones to the grave, and\nseen the doors of the sepulchre shut between them and us, and come\nback to the house where they are no more--where they never more may\nbe--_then_ is indeed the darkest hour.\n\nThere is a very touching picture by Delaroche entitled \"The Return\nfrom the Cross,\" in which the mother of Jesus, leaning on the arm\nof the beloved John, is seen just entering a lowly dwelling. A few\nfaithful friends, men and women, are with them; they have seen him\ndie--seen him laid in the sepulchre and a great stone rolled against\nthe door; and now they are come to their desolate home to think it\nall over, and to weep.\n\nDo we ask, Why did they not remember the words of Jesus, that he\nshould rise again? Ah! because they had just such hearts as we have,\nand their faith was overpowered by sight just as ours is.\n\nThey may have thought they believed that they should see their Lord\nrisen from the dead; but at the sight of the death agonies, and the\nlifeless form, and the dark, cold stone of the sepulchre, all this\npoor faith died in darkness. It was like carrying a taper out into\na tempest. And we, when we lay our dear ones in the grave, say in\nsolemn words that we do it \"in sure and certain hope of a blessed\nand glorious resurrection,\" when what is sown in weakness shall be\nraised in power, what is sown in dishonor shall be raised in glory.\nWe say it, and we think we believe it; but does it really then cheer\nus? Does it dry our tears? Does it make the return to our desolated\nhome any less dreadful?\n\nStill we remember the death-bed, the pains, the dying eyes, the\nweakness, the sinking--we are overwhelmed by sorrow, and our souls\nache as with a wound. Our hearts throb and yearn towards the form\nwe can no longer see or embrace, as if the loved one were a portion\nof our own selves that had been violently torn away, leaving us\nfainting and bleeding to death. All this--more than all this--was\nin the sorrow of the home of Mary and John that darkest of all\nnights.\n\nHe they mourned was not merely friend, but Lord and Leader, the Hope\nof Israel; the hope of the world; and God had let him suffer and die\nthus!\n\nIt was true that Jesus had made special efforts to provide against\nthe sinking of this hour. He warned his friends of it beforehand.\nHe admitted four of his chosen disciples upon the Mount of\nTransfiguration to look into the heavenly world and see him in glory\nand hear him speaking with Moses and Elijah of his coming death.\nAll this was given that their faith might not fail. Then, just\nbefore his death, at the grave of Lazarus, he declared himself the\nResurrection and the Life, and showed them in the restored form of\na well-known friend what he meant by rising from the dead--for it\nis said, \"They questioned among themselves what the rising from the\ndead should mean.\"\n\nBut all appeared to be gone now. Love still kept watch. Spices were\nprepared to embalm the precious form with no hope, apparently, of\nits resurrection. It had faded out from their minds as it seems to\nfade out of the minds of us Christians when we bewail our dead and\nspeak of them as \"lost.\" Their Jesus was to them dead and gone; and\nwhy this thing was permitted was a dark, insoluble mystery. \"We\ntrusted that it had been he that should have redeemed Israel,\" said\nthe two disciples, sadly walking on the way to Emmaus. \"We trusted!\"\nAll in the past tense. Not a word of any hope or faith in the\nresurrection! And yet their Lord and Master was even at that moment\nwalking with them and comforting their hearts.\n\nSurely, in this respect, we modern Christians too often tread in the\nfootsteps of the saints and suffer as they did. But our Lord knows\nour weakness; he knows the physical faintness which comes from long\nwatching, the obscuration of mind which comes from sorrow, and he\nis at hand to comfort us in our blind weeping. Mary Magdalene knew\nhim not, because her eyes were full of tears, till his well-known\nvoice called her name. The mourning disciples as they walked to\nEmmaus knew not that Jesus was walking by them. And so, ever since,\nto weary hearts and lonely homes the comforting Christ still comes\ninvisibly, with sweetness and rest, if only we of little faith would\nremember his promises and recognize his presence. Still now, as he\nfirst announced himself, he comes \"to heal the broken-hearted,\" and\nis beside them ever in the darkest and most dreadful hour of their\nafflictions.\n\n\n\n\nXXIX\n\nTHE RESURRECTION OF JESUS\n\n_Easter Sunday_\n\n\nThere is something wonderfully poetic in the simple history given\nby the different Evangelists of the resurrection of our Lord. It\nis like a calm, serene, dewy morning, after a night of thunder and\ntempest. One of the most beautiful features in the narrative is the\npresence of those godlike forms of our angel brethren. How can it be\npossible that critics with human hearts have torn and mangled this\nsacred picture for the purpose of effacing these celestial forms--so\nbeautiful, so glorious! Is it superstition to believe that there are\nhigher forms of life, intellect, and energy than those of earth;\nthat there are races of superior beings between us and the throne of\nGod, as there are gradations below us of less and lessening power\ndown to the half-vegetable zo\u00f6phytes? These angels, with their\npower, their purity, their unfading youth, their tender sympathy for\nman, are a radiant celestial possibility which every heart must long\nto claim as not only probable but certain.\n\nThe history of our Lord from first to last is fragrant with the\nsympathy and musical with the presence of these shining ones. They\nannounced his coming to the Blessed among Women. They filled the air\nwith songs and rejoicings at the hour of his birth. They ministered\nto him during his temptations in the wilderness. When repentant\nsinners thronged about him and Scribes and Pharisees sneered, it was\nto the sympathy of these invisible ones that he turned, as those\nwhose hearts thrilled with joy over the repenting sinner. In the\nlast mysterious agony at Gethsemane it was an angel that appeared\nand strengthened him. And now with what godlike energy do they\nhasten upon their mission to attend their king's awaking!\n\n     \"And, behold, there was a great earthquake, for the angel of the\n     Lord descended from heaven, and rolled back the stone from the\n     door of the sepulchre, and sat upon it. His countenance was like\n     lightning, and his raiment was white as snow, and for fear of\n     him the keepers did shake and became as dead men.\"\n\nIn another Evangelist we have a scene that preceded this. These\ndevoted women, in whose hearts love outlived both faith and hope,\nrose while it was yet dark, and set out with their spices and\nperfumes to go and pay their last tribute of affection and reverence\nto the dead.\n\nThey were under fear of persecution and death; they knew the grave\nwas sealed and watched by those who had slain their Lord, but still\nthey determined to go. There was the inconsiderate hardihood of love\nin their undertaking, and the artless helplessness of their inquiry,\n\"Who will roll away the stone from the door?\" shows the desperation\nof their enterprise. Yet they could not but believe that by prayers\nor tears or offered payment--in some way--that stone should be\nrolled away.\n\nArrived on the spot, they saw that the sepulchre was open and empty,\nand Mary Magdalene, with the impulsive haste and earnestness which\nmarks her character, ran back to the house of John, where were the\nmother of Jesus, and Peter, and astonished them with the tidings.\n\"They have taken away the Lord out of the sepulchre, and we know not\nwhere they have laid him.\"\n\nNothing is said of the Mother in this scene. Probably she was\nutterly worn out and exhausted by the dreadful scenes of the day\nbefore, and incapable of further exertion. But Peter and John\nstarted immediately for the sepulchre. Meanwhile, the two other\nwomen went into the sepulchre and stood there perplexed, till\nsuddenly they saw a vision of celestial forms, radiant in immortal\nyouth and clothed in white. One said:--\n\n     \"Be not afraid. I know ye seek Jesus of Nazareth that was\n     crucified. Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not\n     here. He is risen as he said. Behold where they laid him.\n     Remember how he spake unto you of this when he was in Galilee,\n     saying, The Son of man must be delivered into the hands of\n     sinful men and be crucified, and the third day rise again.\"\n\nAnd they remembered his words.\n\nFurthermore, the friendly spirit bids them to go and tell the\ndisciples and Peter that their Master is risen from the dead, and\nis going before them into Galilee--there shall they see him. And\ncharged with this message the women had fled from the sepulchre just\nas Peter and John came up.\n\nThe delicacies of character are strikingly shown in the brief\nrecord. John outruns Peter, stoops down and looks into the\nsepulchre; but that species of reticence which always appears in\nhim controls him here--he hesitates to enter the sacred place. Now,\nhowever, comes Peter, impetuous, ardent, determined, and passes\nright into the tomb.\n\nThere is a touch of homelike minuteness in the description of the\ngrave as they found it--no discovery of haste, no sign of confusion,\nbut all in order: the linen grave-clothes lying in one place; the\nnapkin that was about his head not lying with them, but folded\ntogether in a place by itself; indicating the perfect calmness and\ncomposure with which their Lord had risen--transported with no\nrapture or surprise, but, in this supreme moment, maintaining the\nsame tranquillity which had ever characterized him.\n\nIt is said they saw and believed, though as yet they did not fully\nunderstand the saying that he must rise from the dead; and they left\nthe place and ran with the news to the disciples.\n\nBut Mary still lingers weeping by the empty tomb--type of too many\nof us, who forget that our beloved ones have arisen. Through her\ntears she sees the pitying angels, who ask her as they might often\nask us, \"Why weepest thou?\" She tells her sorrowful story--they have\ntaken away her Lord and she knows not where they have laid him; and\nyet at this moment Jesus is standing by her, and one word from his\nvoice changes all.\n\nIt is not general truth or general belief that our souls need in\ntheir anguish; it is one word from Christ to us, it is his voice\ncalling us by name, that makes the darkness light.\n\nWe mark throughout this story the sympathetic touches of interest\nin the angels. They had heard and remembered what Christ said in\nGalilee, though his people had forgotten it. They had had sympathy\nfor the repentant weeping of Peter, and sent a special message of\ncomfort to him. These elder brethren of the household seem in all\nthings most thoughtful and careful of human feelings; they breathe\naround us the spirit of that world where an unloving word or harsh\njudgment is an impossible conception.\n\nThe earlier Christian tradition speaks of our Lord's first visit to\nhis mother. It may be that in that space of time while Peter and\nJohn were running to the sepulchre Jesus himself chose to draw near\nto his mother. To her he gave one of his last dying words, and we\ncannot but believe that one of his earliest risen messages of hope\nand blessing was for her. But over an interview so peculiar and so\nblessed the sacred narrative has deemed it wise to leave the veil of\nsilence.\n\nThe time after our Lord's resurrection is one full of mysteries.\nBut few things are told us of that life which he lived on earth. He\nno longer walked the ways of men as before--no longer lived with\nhis disciples, but only appeared to them from time to time, as\nhe saw that they needed comfort, counsel, or rebuke. We have the\nbeautiful story of the walk to Emmaus. We have accounts of meetings\nof the disciples with closed doors, for fear of the Jews, when Jesus\nsuddenly appeared in the midst of them, saying, \"Peace be unto you!\"\nand showing to them his hands and his side; and it is added, \"Then\nwere the disciples glad when they saw the Lord.\"\n\nWe have an account of how he suddenly appeared to them by the Lake\nof Genesareth, when they had been vainly toiling all night--how he\nstood on the shore in the dim gray of morning and said, \"Children,\nhave ye any meat?\" They answered him \"No;\" and he said, \"Cast the\nnet on the right hand and ye shall find.\" And then John whispers to\nPeter, \"It is the Lord!\" and Peter, impetuous to the last, casts\nhimself into the water and swims to the shore. They find a fire\nprepared, a meal ready for them, and Jesus to bless the bread,--and\nvery sweet and lovely was the interview.\n\nHow many such visits and interviews there were--when and with\nwhom--we have no means of knowing, though St. John indicates that\nthere were many other things which Jesus said and did worthy of\nrecord besides those of which we are told. We learn from St. Paul\nthat he appeared to more than five hundred of his followers at\nonce--a meeting not described by any of the Evangelists.\n\nIt is believed by many Christians that Christ is yet coming to reign\nvisibly upon this earth. That Christ should reign in any one spot or\ncity of this earth, as earthly kings reign, with a court and human\nforms of administration, is suggestive of grave difficulties. The\nembarrassments in the way of our Centennial Exhibition this year,\nthe fatigue and disturbance and danger to health and life of such\ncrowds coming and going, might suggest what would be the effect\non human society if in any one earthly place the universal object\nof all human desire were located. But it may be possible that the\nbarrier between the spiritual world and ours will be so far removed\nthat the presence of our Lord and his saints may at times be with\nus, even as Christ was with the disciples in this interval. It may\nbecome a lawful subject of desire and prayer and expectation. It may\nbe in that day that in assemblies of his people Jesus will suddenly\nstand, saying, \"Peace be unto you!\" Such appearances could take\nplace in all countries and lands, according to human needs, without\nderanging human society.\n\nBut whether visibly or by the manifestation of his Spirit, let us\nhasten and look forward to that final second coming of our Master,\nwhen the kingdoms of this world shall be the kingdoms of our Lord\nand his Christ.\n\n\n\n\nXXX\n\nTHE ASCENSION OF OUR LORD\n\n_Ascension Day_\n\n\nAt length the visible and mortal pilgrimage of our Lord was over,\nand the time come when he must return to his home in heaven, to the\nglory with the Father which he had before the world was.\n\nWe cannot fail to notice the calmness, brevity, and simplicity with\nwhich this crowning act of his life is recorded. He had before told\nhis disciples that it was better for them that his visible presence\nshould be withdrawn from them, and that when ascended to the Father\nhe should be with them as an intimate spiritual presence and power.\nHe now speaks to them of a baptism of the Holy Spirit that they\nshould receive after his ascension, and bids them tarry in Jerusalem\ntill they be endued with this power from on high.\n\nThen the narrative says: \"And he led them out as far as Bethany;\nand he lifted up his hands and blessed them, and while he blessed\nthem he was parted from them and taken up into heaven; and a cloud\nreceived him out of their sight. And while they were looking\nsteadfastly to heaven, as he went up, behold two men stood by them\nin white apparel, who said, Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing\nup into heaven? This same Jesus which is taken from you into heaven\nshall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go. And they\nworshipped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy from the\nMount of Olives, and were continually in the temple praising and\nblessing God.\"\n\nThe forty days that Jesus lingered on earth had, it seems, not been\nin vain. His mourning flock were consoled and brought to such a\npoint of implicit faith that the final separation was full of joy.\n\nThey were at last convinced that it was better for them that he go\nto the Father--that an ascended Lord, seated at the right hand of\npower and shedding down spiritual light and joy, was better than\nany earthly presence, however dear. Christ, as a living power of\ninspiration in the soul, was henceforth to be nearer, dearer, more\ninseparable, more consoling and helpful than the man of Nazareth had\never been.\n\nLet us all with one heart unite in the beautiful prayer of the\nchurch for this day: \"O God, the King of Glory, who hast exalted\nthine only Son Jesus Christ with great triumph unto thy Kingdom in\nHeaven, we beseech thee leave us not comfortless; but send to us thy\nHoly Ghost to comfort and exalt us to that same place whither our\nSaviour Christ is gone before us, who liveth and reigneth with Thee\nand the Holy Ghost, ever one God, world without end. Amen.\"\n\n\n\n\nXXXI\n\nTHE HOLY SPIRIT\n\n_Whitsuntide_\n\n\nWhen our Saviour was to go forth on his great mission he spent\nforty days in prayer; and so now his little church were to spend\nforty days of waiting and devotion till they should receive the\ngift from on high. What that gift was we can see in their history.\nHow dark, how confused, how unspiritual their views, how low their\nfaith, how easily upset by the storms of persecution! But when the\ndivine influence came upon them, what a change! What clearness, what\ninsight, what courage, what power! When brought before kings and\nrulers they bore joyous testimony; when beaten ignominiously they\nwent out rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for\nhis sake.\n\nDo not all ministers of Christ, all Christians to whose keeping his\nhonor and cause is confided, need such a baptism as this, such a\nnew birth in spiritual things? For the gift came not merely on the\ntwelve Apostles, but on the whole company of believers, both men\nand women. We read the names of the twelve, and then are told that\n\"these all continued with one accord in prayer and supplication\nwith the women, and Mary the mother of Jesus, and his brethren,\"--a\ncompany of a hundred and twenty persons.\n\nThey were united day after day in prayer--their whole souls, with\none accord, were lifted heavenward; all earthly scenes and interests\nwere put aside, and the attitude of their minds was one of ardent\ndesire and expectancy.\n\nIt was to souls so raised, so enkindled, that at last the glorious\ngift came--the spiritual power that made every Christian man and\nwoman among them an inspired and convincing witness for Christ.\nThe world witnessed that day a new sight--an invisible spiritual\npower, before which thousands bowed at the name of that Jesus whom\nbut a few weeks before they had seen crucified. And why have we\nnot such a baptism and such a power? Is our faith what it should\nbe,--our zeal, our devotion? If all Christians were like us, would\nthe world ever be converted to God? Is there a gift of spiritual\npower and constancy of faith to be had in answer to fervent prayer?\nand should we not seek it as they did? Of late there have been in\nEurope and in this country large conventions of Christians of all\nnames and denominations to pray and seek for this gift of the Holy\nSpirit, to enable them to witness for Christ as these witnessed; it\nis a most joyful sign of our times. Let us hope that such prayers\nmay be answered in bringing back to the modern church something of\nthe fervor, the simplicity, the entire devotion that characterized\nthese first Christians. It is not by arguing with skeptics, but by a\ndivine and holy life, that Christians are to convince the world of\nthe truth of our religion. It is \"Christ in us, the hope of glory,\"\nthat is to be the power that shall convert the world.\n\n\n\n\nXXXII\n\nCHRIST'S SECOND LIFE, IN HIS FOLLOWERS\n\n\nIn a moment of profound emotion, when our Lord contemplated the near\napproach of the last tragedy in his life, he said: \"Except a corn of\nwheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone; but if it die\nit bringeth forth much fruit.\"\n\nAccordingly, it was but little more than a month after the scenes of\nCalvary before Jerusalem was filled with a harvest of men and women\nwho were born into the Christ-life, and were living and acting in\nhis spirit.\n\nAt the feast of Pentecost Jerusalem was full of strangers, devout\nJews from every nation under heaven, and three thousand in one day\nbowed at the feet of the Jesus whom they had crucified. The chief\npriests were enraged and terrified, for everywhere the Apostles of\nthis crucified Jesus, inspired with a supernatural courage, were\nworking miracles and preaching with an energy even more overcoming\nthan that of the Master. Jesus had been among them but as one man;\nhe had come back as twelve men, every one of whom was full of him,\nworking his works and preaching him with overwhelming power.\n\nIt is most impressive to read in the Book of Acts how Peter and\nJohn were called before Annas and Caiaphas--the very tribunal before\nwhich Jesus so lately stood, the tribunal before which Peter denied\nhim and John stood in trembling silence. Now these same men face\nhigh priests and elders with heads erect and flashing eyes, and\nsay:--\n\n     \"If we be this day examined of the good deed done to the\n     impotent man, be it known unto you that by the name of Jesus\n     Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified and whom God raised from\n     the dead, doth this man stand before you whole. This is the\n     stone which was set at naught of you builders, which has become\n     the head of the corner; neither is there salvation in any other.\"\n\nWe can imagine the dismay of the Sanhedrim when such men and such\nsermons met them at every corner. The record says that, perceiving\nthe boldness of Peter and John, and knowing that they were unlearned\nmen, they marveled, and took knowledge of them that they had been\nwith Jesus!\n\nIt is not likely that the high priest had forgotten the recent\ntime when Jesus stood bound before him. Evidently even then his\nmanner had inspired a secret misgiving awe; and here were these\ndisciples now looking and speaking just like him, with the same\ncertainty, the same majesty. It was Jesus of Nazareth returning in\nhis followers. It was a terror to them all. But we are told the\nword of God grew and prevailed, the converts increased in crowds\ndaily, \"a great company of the priests were obedient\" to the word.\nOf course persecution raged. To confess Christ was to lose place,\npatronage, and daily bread. The Christians, in their new joy, met\nthis by throwing all their worldly possessions into a common stock\nand apportioning support to each.\n\nThere were rich men like Nicodemus, Joseph of Arimathea, and many\nothers, and we read of men who sold all they had and laid the money\nat the Apostles' feet. Thus those who daily were thrown out of\nemployment for Christ's sake were supported and relieved. A great\nfinancial and administrative business grew up out of this state\nof things, and we are told that there arose a murmuring among\nthe foreign-born Jews that their widows were neglected in the\napportionment of aid.\n\nThe Jews have been in all ages a trading nation. Palestine was a\nlittle country situated in the very heart of the ancient civilized\nworld. It was a centre of emigration. Colonies of Jews, bearing\ntheir religion, their synagogue, their national zeal, had foothold\nand maintained Jewish worship in almost every leading city of Greece\nand Rome. They were called, according to their country, Greeks or\nRomans, while as to religion and race they were Jews.\n\nIt appears that the proportion of Greek-born Jews among the converts\nwas so great as to warrant the appointment of seven deacons, all\nof whom bear names which show their Grecian origin. Stephen was\nevidently a noted man among them. He is described as full of faith\nand the Holy Ghost. For aught we know, Stephen may have been one\nof those Greeks who, during the last week of Christ's life in\nJerusalem, came to his disciples, saying, \"Sir, we would see Jesus.\"\nHe may have been among the first-fruits of that harvest which Christ\nthen foresaw when he said, \"I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men\nunto me.\" He seems to have been of a nature peculiarly receptive\nand lovely--a beautiful medium through whom the Christ-spirit could\nreveal itself. If he had been in Jerusalem at the time of Christ's\ndeath, and witnessed the scenes of Calvary, we may well believe what\na fervor was enkindled in his soul, and with what zeal he devoted\nhimself to him. His activity was not confined to the temporal\nministrations which were committed to him. He is described as \"full\nof faith and power, and doing great miracles.\" He maintained the\ncause of Jesus in word as well as deed. Certain leaders in a Jewish\nsynagogue, of Greek extraction like himself, who still clung to\nJewish prejudices, disputed with him, and we are told they were not\nable to resist the wisdom and power with which he spoke. A tumult\nwas stirred up, and Stephen was brought before the Sanhedrim, and\nstood in the place where his Master had stood before him. Again,\nas before, it was the Jewish national pride and bitterness that\nwere arrayed against him. Stephen had shown the glories of that\nnew spiritual kingdom which Christ was bringing in, where there\nshould be neither Jew nor Greek, barbarian, Scythian, bond nor free,\nbut Christ should be all in all. So the accusation was formulated\nagainst him:--\n\n     \"We have heard him say that Jesus of Nazareth shall destroy this\n     place and shall change the customs which Moses delivered unto\n     us.\"\n\nThe High Priest probably felt that now he had got a leading\nChristian at advantage. He would meet now and expose this sect that\nthreatened to overthrow their country and destroy their venerable\nreligion. He said to Stephen, with a semblance of moderation and\njustice, \"Are these things so?\"\n\nThere was a pause, in which Stephen seems to have been so filled by\nthe vision of the glory and beauty of the new life which was opening\nbefore the world, that he could not speak. It is said:--\n\n     \"And all that sat in the council, looking steadfastly on him,\n     saw his face as it had been the face of an angel.\"\n\nThen began that noble speech, evidently the speech of a Greek-born\nJew, who had studied the Hebrew history from a different standpoint\nfrom the Rabbins. It is clear from the fragment of this address\nthat it was designed to show, even by their past history, that\nGod's dealings with his people had been irrespective of the temple\nof Jerusalem and the worship there. He dwelt on God's calling of\nAbraham, his sojourn in Canaan before he possessed it; of God's\nsuffering the chosen race to sojourn in Egypt; of Moses, born and\nnurtured in a Gentile court, and educated in the wisdom of the\nEgyptians. This man, who lived to the age of forty years as an\nEgyptian prince, begins to offer himself as a guide and teacher to\nhis oppressed people, but they reject his mission with scorn. Then\ncomes the scene of the appearance of Jehovah for their rescue and\nthe appointment of Moses to accomplish their deliverance, and he\ndrives home the parallel between Moses and the rejected Jesus.\n\nThis Moses, whom they refused, saying, \"Who made thee a ruler and a\njudge?\" the same did God send to be a ruler and a deliverer. \"This\nis that Moses who said, A Prophet shall the Lord your God raise up\nunto you like unto me: him shall ye hear.\" He then shows how the\nJewish nation disobeyed Moses and God, and turned back to the golden\ncalf of Egypt. He traces their history till the time of the building\nof the temple, but adds that \"the Most High dwelleth not in temples\nmade with hands, as saith the prophet: Heaven is my throne and earth\nis my footstool: what house will ye build me? saith the Lord. Hath\nnot my hand made all these things?\" We may imagine the fervor, the\nenergy of this brief history, the tone, the spirit, the flashing eye\nthat gave point to every incident. It was perfectly evident what he\nwas coming to, what use he was going to make of this recital--that\nthe Jews were not God's favorites _per se_; that they were and\nalways had been an ungrateful, rebellious people; that God had\nchosen them, in spite of their sins, to be the unworthy guardians\nand receivers of a great mission for the whole world; that the\ntemple was not a necessity, that it came late in their history, and\nthat God himself had declared his superiority to it. It was easy to\nsee that he was coming round to the mission of Jesus, the prophet\nwhom Moses had predicted, and whom they had rejected as they did\nMoses. But there was evidently a tumult rising, and Stephen saw that\nhe was about to be interrupted, and therefore, suddenly, leaving the\nnarrative unfinished, he breaks forth:--\n\n     \"Ye stiffnecked and uncircumcised in heart and ears, ye do\n     always resist the Holy Ghost--as your fathers did so do ye.\n     Which of the prophets have not your fathers persecuted? They\n     slew them which prophesied the coming of that Just One of whom\n     ye have been the betrayers and murderers; who have received the\n     law by the dispensation of angels and have not kept it.\"\n\nThese words were as coals dropping upon naphtha. They were cut to\nthe heart; they gnashed on him with their teeth; they raved round\nhim as wild beasts who collect themselves for a deadly spring.\n\n     \"But he, full of the Holy Ghost, looked up steadfastly into\n     heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing on the right\n     hand of God.\"\n\nThere was something in his rapt appearance, his pale, upturned face\nand eager eyes, that caused a moment's silence.\n\nIn a voice of exultation and awe he said:--\n\n     \"Behold! I see the heavens opened and the Son of man standing on\n     the right hand of God.\"\n\nThe Son of man!--the very words that Christ had used when he stood\nbefore Caiaphas about fifty days before, when he said, \"Hereafter ye\nshall see the Son of man coming in the clouds of heaven!\"\n\nThere was a frantic shriek of rage. The court broke up and became a\nblind, infuriate mob. All consideration was forgotten in the blind\npassion of the hour. Though they had no legal right to take life\nwithout a Roman sentence, they determined to have the blood of this\nman, cost what it might.\n\nThey hurried him out of the city with curses and execrations. The\nexecutioners stripped off their outer garments to prepare for the\nbutchery, and laid them down at the feet of a young zealot named\nSaul of Tarsus.\n\nThere are many paintings of this scene in the galleries of Europe.\nWe may imagine him, pale and enraptured, looking up into the face\nof that Jesus whom he saw in glory, and as they threw him violently\ndown he cried, \"Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.\" Rising to his knees,\nwounded and bleeding, he added, \"Lord, lay not this sin to their\ncharge.\" And then, says the narrative, \"He fell asleep.\"\n\nThe sweetness and tenderness of this expression shows more than\nanything else how completely the faith of Christ had conquered\ndeath. Christians spoke of death simply as a sleep. And here amid\nthe hootings and revilings of a mob, the crash of stones and insult\nand execration, nothing could hinder Christ's beloved from falling\nasleep. At peace within, with a heaven of love in his soul, he\npitied and prayed for the wretched creatures who were murdering him,\nand passed to the right hand of Jesus--the first who had sealed his\ntestimony with his blood.\n\nThus was sown again the first perfected seed of the new wheat\nwhich rose from the grave of Christ! Jesus was the first whom the\nworld ever saw praying with his dying breath for his murderers;\nand Stephen, who had risen to the same majesty of denunciation\nand rebuke of sin which characterized his master, was baptized\ninto the same tenderness of prayer for the miserable mob who were\nhowling like wild beasts around him. Heavenly love never shrinks\nfrom denouncing sin; but it has a prayer for the sinner ever in its\nbreast, and the nearer it comes to the higher world the more it\npities this lower one.\n\nBut though the orator was crushed the cause was not lost.\n\nJesus, standing at the right hand of God, had only to reach forth\nand touch that Saul of Tarsus who stood consenting to his death, and\nhe fell down at his feet trembling, crying, \"Lord, what wilt thou\nhave me to do?\"\n\nThe noble work which Stephen had begun, the message of universal\nlove to Jew and Gentile, passed from the hands of dying Stephen to\nthe living Paul, who from that hour spoke the sentiment that must\nbe the animating spirit of every true lover and follower of the\nMaster's footsteps: \"I am crucified with Christ; and now it is no\nmore I that live, but Christ that liveth in me.\"\n\n\n\n\nEARTHLY CARE A HEAVENLY DISCIPLINE\n\n    \"Why should these cares my heart divide,\n      If Thou, indeed, hast set me free?\n    Why am I thus, if Thou hast died--\n      If Thou hast died to ransom me?\"\n\n\nNothing is more frequently felt and spoken of, as a hindrance to the\ninward life of devotion, than the \"cares of life;\" and even upon the\nshowing of our Lord himself, the cares of the world are the thorns\nthat choke the word, and it becometh unfruitful.\n\nAnd yet, if this is a necessary and inevitable result of worldly\ncare, why does the providence of God so order things that it forms\nso large and unavoidable a part of every human experience? Why is\nthe physical system of man arranged with such daily, oft-recurring\nwants? Why does his nature, in its full development, tend to that\nstate of society in which wants multiply, and the business of supply\nbecomes more complicated, and requiring constantly more thought\nand attention, and bringing the outward and seen into a state of\nconstant friction and pressure on the inner and spiritual?\n\nHas God arranged an outward system to be a constant diversion from\nthe inward--a weight on its wheels--a burden on its wings--and then\ncommanded a strict and rigid inwardness and spirituality? Why placed\nus where the things that are seen and temporal must unavoidably have\nso much of our thoughts, and time, and care, yet said to us, \"Set\nyour affections on things above, and not on things on the earth.\nLove not the world, neither the things of the world\"? And why does\none of our brightest examples of Christian experience, as it should\nbe, say, \"While we look not on the things which are seen, but on\nthe things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are\ntemporal, but the things that are not seen are eternal\"?\n\nThe Bible tells us that our whole existence here is a disciplinary\none; that this whole physical system, by which our spirit is\ninclosed with all the joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, and wants\nwhich form a part of it, are designed as an education to fit the\nsoul for its immortality; and as worldly care forms the greater\npart of the staple of every human life, there must be some mode\nof viewing and meeting it, which converts it from an enemy of\nspirituality into a means of grace and spiritual advancement.\n\nWhy, then, do we so often hear the lamentation, \"It seems to me\nas if I could advance to the higher stages of Christian life, if\nit were not for the pressure of my business and the multitude of\nmy worldly cares\"? Is it not God, O Christian, who, in ordering\nthy lot, has laid these cares upon thee, and who still holds them\nabout thee, and permits no escape from them? And as his great,\nundivided object is thy spiritual improvement, is there not some\nmisapprehension or wrong use of these cares, if they do not tend\nto advance it? Is it not even as if a scholar should say, I could\nadvance in science were it not for all the time and care which\nlessons, and books, and lectures require?\n\nHow, then, shall earthly care become heavenly discipline? How shall\nthe disposition of the weight be altered so as to press the spirit\nupward towards God, instead of downward and away? How shall the\npillar of cloud which rises between us and him become one of fire,\nto reflect upon us constantly the light of his countenance, and to\nguide us over the sands of life's desert?\n\nIt appears to us that the great radical difficulty is an\nintellectual one, and lies in a wrong belief. There is not a genuine\nand real belief of the presence and agency of God in the minor\nevents and details of life, which is necessary to change them from\nsecular cares into spiritual blessings.\n\nIt is true there is much loose talk about an overruling Providence;\nand yet, if fairly stated, the belief of a great many Christians\nmight be thus expressed: God has organized and set in operation\ncertain general laws of matter and mind, which work out the\nparticular results of life, and over these laws he exercises a\ngeneral supervision and care, so that all the great affairs of the\nworld are carried on after the counsel of his own will; and in a\ncertain general sense, all things are working together for good\nto those that love God. But when some simple-minded, childlike\nChristian really proceeds to refer all the smaller events of life to\nGod's immediate care and agency, there is a smile of incredulity,\nand it is thought that the good brother displays more Christian\nfeeling than sound philosophy.\n\nBut as life for every individual is made up of fractions and minute\natoms--as those things which go to affect habits and character\nare small and hourly recurring, it comes to pass that a belief in\nProvidence so very wide and general is altogether inefficient for\nconsecrating and rendering sacred the great body of what comes\nin contact with the mind in the experience of life. Only once in\nyears does the Christian with this kind of belief hear the voice\nof the Lord God speaking to him. When the hand of death is laid\non his child, or the bolt strikes down the brother by his side,\nthen, indeed, he feels that God is drawing near; he listens humbly\nfor the inward voice that shall explain the meaning and need of\nthis discipline. When by some unforeseen occurrence the whole of\nhis earthly property is swept away,--he becomes a poor man,--this\nevent, in his eyes, assumes sufficient magnitude to have come from\nGod, and to have a design and meaning; but when smaller comforts are\nremoved, smaller losses are encountered, and the petty every-day\nvexations and annoyances of life press about him, he recognizes no\nGod, and hears no voice, and sees no design. Hence John Newton says,\n\"Many Christians, who bear the loss of a child, or the destruction\nof all their property, with the most heroic Christian fortitude, are\nentirely vanquished and overcome by the breaking of a dish, or the\nblunders of a servant, and show so unchristian a spirit, that we\ncannot but wonder at them.\"\n\nSo when the breath of slander, or the pressure of human injustice,\ncomes so heavily on a man as really to threaten loss of character,\nand destruction of his temporal interests, he seems forced to\nrecognize the hand and voice of God, through the veil of human\nagencies, and in time-honored words to say:--\n\n    \"When men of spite against me join,\n    They are the sword; the hand is thine.\"\n\nBut the smaller injustice and fault-finding which meet every one\nmore or less in the daily intercourse of life, the overheard\nremark, the implied censure, too petty, perhaps, to be even spoken\nof, these daily recurring sources of disquietude and unhappiness\nare not referred to God's providence, nor considered as a part\nof his probation and discipline. Those thousand vexations which\ncome upon us through the unreasonableness, the carelessness, the\nvarious constitutional failings, or ill adaptedness of others to\nour peculiarities of character, form a very large item of the\ndisquietudes of life; and yet how very few look beyond the human\nagent, and feel these are trials coming from God! Yet it is true, in\nmany cases, that these so-called minor vexations form the greater\npart, and in many cases the only discipline of life; and to those\nthat do not view them as ordered individually by God, and coming\nupon them by specified design, \"their affliction 'really' cometh\nof the dust, and their trouble springs out of the ground;\" it is\nsanctified and relieved by no divine presence and aid, but borne\nalone and in a mere human spirit, and by mere human reliances; it\nacts on the mind as a constant diversion and hindrance, instead of a\nmoral discipline.\n\nHence, too, come a coldness, and generality, and wandering of mind\nin prayer: the things that are on the heart, that are distracting\nthe mind, that have filled the soul so full that there is no room\nfor anything else, are all considered too small and undignified to\ncome within the pale of a prayer and so, with a wandering mind and\na distracted heart, the Christian offers up his prayer for things\nwhich he thinks he ought to want, and makes no mention of those\nwhich he does. He prays that God would pour out his spirit on the\nheathen, and convert the world, and build up his kingdom everywhere,\nwhen perhaps a whole set of little anxieties, and wants, and\nvexations are so distracting his thoughts, that he hardly knows what\nhe has been saying: a faithless servant is wasting his property; a\ncareless or blundering workman has spoiled a lot of goods; a child\nis vexatious or unruly; a friend has made promises and failed to\nkeep them; an acquaintance has made unjust or satirical remarks;\nsome new furniture has been damaged or ruined by carelessness in\nthe household; but all this trouble forms no subject matter for\nprayer, though there it is, all the while lying like lead on the\nheart, and keeping it down, so that it has no power to expand and\ntake in anything else. But were God known and regarded as the\nsoul's familiar friend, were every trouble of the heart as it rises\nbreathed into his bosom, were it felt that there is not one of the\nsmallest of life's troubles that has not been permitted by him, and\npermitted for specific good purpose to the soul, how much more\nwould these be in prayer! how constant, how daily might it become!\nhow it might settle and clear the atmosphere of the soul! how it\nmight so dispose and lay away many anxieties which now take up their\nplace there, that there might be room for the higher themes and\nconsiderations of religion!\n\nMany sensitive and fastidious natures are worn away by the constant\nfriction of what are called little troubles. Without any great\naffliction, they feel that all the flower and sweetness of their\nlife have faded; their eye grows dim, their cheek care-worn, and\ntheir spirit loses hope and elasticity, and becomes bowed with\npremature age; and in the midst of tangible and physical comfort,\nthey are restless and unhappy. The constant undercurrent of little\ncares and vexations, which is slowly wearing on the finer springs of\nlife, is seen by no one; scarce ever do they speak of these things\nto their nearest friends. Yet were there a friend of a spirit so\ndiscerning as to feel and sympathize in all these things, how much\nof this repressed electric restlessness would pass off through such\na sympathizing mind.\n\nYet among human friends this is all but impossible, for minds are so\ndiverse that what is a trial and a care to one is a matter of sport\nand amusement to another; and all the inner world breathed into\na human ear only excites a surprised or contemptuous pity. Whom,\nthen, shall the soul turn to? Who will feel that to be affliction\nwhich each spirit feels to be so? If the soul shut itself within\nitself, it becomes morbid; the fine chords of the mind and nerves\nby constant wear become jarring and discordant; hence fretfulness,\ndiscontent, and habitual irritability steal over the sincere\nChristian.\n\nBut to the Christian that really believes in the agency of God in\nthe smallest events of life, that confides in his love, and makes\nhis sympathy his refuge, the thousand minute cares and perplexities\nof life become each one a fine affiliating bond between the soul\nand its God. God is known, not by abstract definition, and by\nhigh-raised conceptions of the soul's aspiring hours, but known\nas a man knoweth his friend; he is known by the hourly wants he\nsupplies; known by every care with which he momentarily sympathizes,\nevery apprehension which he relieves, every temptation which he\nenables us to surmount. We learn to know God as the infant child\nlearns to know its mother and its father, by all the helplessness\nand all the dependence which are incident to this commencement of\nour moral existence; and as we go on thus year by year, and find in\nevery changing situation, in every reverse, in every trouble, from\nthe lightest sorrow to those which wring our soul from its depths,\nthat he is equally present, and that his gracious aid is equally\nadequate, our faith seems gradually almost to change to sight; and\nGod's existence, his love and care, seem to us more real than any\nother source of reliance, and multiplied cares and trials are only\nnew avenues of acquaintance between us and heaven.\n\nSuppose, in some bright vision unfolding to our view, in tranquil\nevening or solemn midnight, the glorified form of some departed\nfriend should appear to us with the announcement, \"This year is to\nbe to you one of especial probation and discipline, with reference\nto perfecting you for a heavenly state. Weigh well and consider\nevery incident of your daily life, for not one shall fall out by\naccident, but each one is to be a finished and indispensable link in\na bright chain that is to draw you upward to the skies!\"\n\nWith what new eyes should we now look on our daily lot! and if we\nfound in it not a single change,--the same old cares, the same\nperplexities, the same uninteresting drudgeries still,--with what\nnew meaning would every incident be invested! and with what other\nand sublimer spirit could we meet them? Yet, if announced by one\nrising from the dead with the visible glory of a spiritual world,\nthis truth could be asserted no more clearly and distinctly than\nJesus Christ has stated it already. Not a sparrow falleth to the\nground without our Father. Not one of them is forgotten by him; and\nwe are of more value than many sparrows; yea, even the hairs of\nour head are all numbered. Not till belief in these declarations,\nin their most literal sense, becomes the calm and settled habit of\nthe soul, is life ever redeemed from drudgery and dreary emptiness,\nand made full of interest, meaning, and divine significance. Not\ntill then do its groveling wants, its wearing cares, its stinging\nvexations, become to us ministering spirits, each one, by a silent\nbut certain agency, fitting us for a higher and perfect sphere.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MINISTRATION OF OUR DEPARTED FRIENDS\n\nA NEW YEAR'S REVERIE\n\n    \"It is a beautiful belief,\n      That ever round our head\n    Are hovering on viewless wings\n      The spirits of the dead.\"\n\n\nWhile every year is taking one and another from the ranks of life\nand usefulness, or the charmed circle of friendship and love, it is\nsoothing to remember that the spiritual world is gaining in riches\nthrough the poverty of this.\n\nIn early life, with our friends all around us,--hearing their\nvoices, cheered by their smiles,--death and the spiritual world\nare to us remote, misty, and half fabulous; but as we advance in\nour journey, and voice after voice is hushed, and form after form\nvanishes from our side, and our shadow falls almost solitary on the\nhillside of life, the soul, by a necessity of its being, tends to\nthe unseen and spiritual, and pursues in another life those it seeks\nin vain in this.\n\nFor with every friend that dies, dies also some especial form of\nsocial enjoyment, whose being depended on the peculiar character of\nthat friend; till, late in the afternoon of life, the pilgrim seems\nto himself to have passed over to the unseen world in successive\nportions half his own spirit; and poor indeed is he who has not\nfamiliarized himself with that unknown, whither, despite himself,\nhis soul is earnestly tending.\n\nOne of the deepest and most imperative cravings of the human\nheart, as it follows its beloved ones beyond the veil, is for\nsome assurance that they still love and care for us. Could we\nfirmly believe this, bereavement would lose half its bitterness.\nAs a German writer beautifully expresses it, \"Our friend is not\nwholly gone from us; we see across the river of death, in the\nblue distance, the smoke of his cottage;\" hence the heart, always\ncreating what it desires, has ever made the guardianship and\nministration of departed spirits a favorite theme of poetic fiction.\n\nBut is it, then, fiction? Does revelation, which gives so many hopes\nwhich nature had not, give none here? Is there no sober certainty\nto correspond to the inborn and passionate craving of the soul? Do\ndeparted spirits in verity retain any knowledge of what transpires\nin this world, and take any part in its scenes? All that revelation\nsays of a spiritual state is more intimation than assertion; it has\nno distinct treatise, and teaches nothing apparently of set purpose;\nbut gives vague, glorious images, while now and then some accidental\nray of intelligence looks out,--\n\n        \"like eyes of cherubs shining\n    From out the veil that hid the ark.\"\n\nBut out of all the different hints and assertions of the Bible we\nthink a better inferential argument might be constructed to prove\nthe ministration of departed spirits than for many a doctrine which\nhas passed in its day for the height of orthodoxy.\n\nFirst, then, the Bible distinctly says that there is a class of\ninvisible spirits who minister to the children of men: \"Are they\nnot all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister to those who\nshall be heirs of salvation?\" It is said of little children, that\n\"their angels do always behold the face of our Father which is in\nheaven.\" This last passage, from the words of our Saviour, taken\nin connection with the well-known tradition of his time, fully\nrecognizes the idea of individual guardian spirits; for God's\ngovernment over mind is, it seems, throughout, one of intermediate\nagencies, and these not chosen at random, but with the nicest\nreference to their adaptation to the purpose intended. Not even the\nAll-seeing, All-knowing One was deemed perfectly adapted to become\na human Saviour without a human experience. Knowledge intuitive,\ngained from above, of human wants and woes was not enough--to it\nmust be added the home-born certainty of consciousness and memory;\nthe Head of all mediation must become human. Is it likely, then,\nthat, in selecting subordinate agencies, this so necessary a\nrequisite of a human life and experience is overlooked? While around\nthe throne of God stand spirits, now sainted and glorified, yet\nthrillingly conscious of a past experience of sin and sorrow, and\ntrembling in sympathy with temptations and struggles like their own,\nis it likely that he would pass by these souls, thus burning for the\nwork, and commit it to those bright abstract beings whose knowledge\nand experience are comparatively so distant and so cold?\n\nIt is strongly in confirmation of this idea, that in the\ntransfiguration scene--which seems to have been intended purposely\nto give the disciples a glimpse of the glorified state of their\nMaster--we find him attended by two spirits of earth, Moses and\nElias, \"which appeared with him in glory, and spake of his death\nwhich he should accomplish at Jerusalem.\" It appears that these\nso long departed ones were still mingling in deep sympathy with\nthe tide of human affairs--not only aware of the present, but also\ninformed as to the future. In coincidence with this idea are all\nthose passages which speak of the redeemed of earth as being closely\nand indissolubly identified with Christ, members of his body, of his\nflesh and his bones. It is not to be supposed that those united\nto Jesus above all others by so vivid a sympathy and community of\ninterests are left out as instruments in that great work of human\nregeneration which so engrosses him; and when we hear Christians\nspoken of as kings and priests unto God, as those who shall judge\nangels, we see it more than intimated that they are to be the\npartners and actors in that great work of spiritual regeneration of\nwhich Jesus is the head.\n\nWhat then? May we look among the band of ministering spirits for our\nown departed ones? Whom would God be more likely to send us? Have we\nin heaven a friend who knew us to the heart's core? a friend to whom\nwe have unfolded our soul in its most secret recesses? to whom we\nhave confessed our weaknesses and deplored our griefs? If we are to\nhave a ministering spirit, who better adapted? Have we not memories\nwhich correspond to such a belief? When our soul has been cast down,\nhas never an invisible voice whispered, \"There is lifting up\"? Have\nnot gales and breezes of sweet and healing thought been wafted over\nus, as if an angel had shaken from his wings the odors of paradise?\nMany a one, we are confident, can remember such things--and whence\ncome they? Why do the children of the pious mother, whose grave has\ngrown green and smooth with years, seem often to walk through perils\nand dangers fearful and imminent as the crossing Mohammed's fiery\ngulf on the edge of a drawn sword, yet walk unhurt? Ah! could we\nsee that attendant form, that face where the angel conceals not the\nmother, our question would be answered.\n\nIt may be possible that a friend is sometimes taken because the\ndivine One sees that his ministry can act more powerfully from the\nunseen world than amid the infirmities of mortal intercourse. Here\nthe soul, distracted and hemmed in by human events and by bodily\ninfirmities, often scarce knows itself, and makes no impression on\nothers correspondent to its desires. The mother would fain electrify\nthe heart of her child; she yearns and burns in vain to make her\nsoul effective on its soul, and to inspire it with a spiritual and\nholy life; but all her own weaknesses, faults, and mortal cares\ncramp and confine her, till death breaks all fetters; and then,\nfirst truly alive, risen, purified, and at rest, she may do calmly,\nsweetly, and certainly, what, amid the tempests and tossings of\nlife, she labored for painfully and fitfully. So, also, to generous\nsouls, who burn for the good of man, who deplore the shortness of\nlife, and the little that is permitted to any individual agency on\nearth, does this belief open a heavenly field. Think not, father or\nbrother, long laboring for man, till thy sun stands on the western\nmountains,--think not that thy day in this world is over. Perhaps,\nlike Jesus, thou hast lived a human life, and gained a human\nexperience, to become, under and like him, a saviour of thousands;\nthou hast been through the preparation, but thy real work of good,\nthy full power of doing, is yet to begin.\n\nBut again: there are some spirits (and those of earth's choicest)\nto whom, so far as enjoyment to themselves or others is concerned,\nthis life seems to have been a total failure. A hard hand from the\nfirst, and all the way through life, seems to have been laid upon\nthem; they seem to live only to be chastened and crushed, and we\nlay them in the grave at last in mournful silence. To such, what a\nvision is opened by this belief! This hard discipline has been the\nschool and task-work by which their soul has been fitted for their\ninvisible labors in a future life; and when they pass the gates of\nthe grave, their course of benevolent acting first begins, and they\nfind themselves delighted possessors of what through many years they\nhave sighed for--the power of doing good. The year just past, like\nall other years, has taken from a thousand circles the sainted,\nthe just, and the beloved; there are spots in a thousand graveyards\nwhich have become this year dearer than all the living world; but\nin the loneliness of sorrow how cheering to think that our lost\nones are not wholly gone from us! They still may move about in our\nhomes, shedding around an atmosphere of purity and peace, promptings\nof good, and reproofs of evil. We are compassed about by a cloud\nof witnesses, whose hearts throb in sympathy with every effort and\nstruggle, and who thrill with joy at every success. How should this\nthought check and rebuke every worldly feeling and unworthy purpose,\nand enshrine us, in the midst of a forgetful and unspiritual world,\nwith an atmosphere of heavenly peace. They have overcome--have\nrisen--are crowned, glorified, but still they remain to us, our\nassistants, our comforters, and in every hour of darkness their\nvoice speaks to us: \"So we grieved, so we struggled, so we fainted,\nso we doubted; but we have overcome, we have obtained, we have seen,\nwe have found--and in our victory behold the certainty of thy own.\"\n\n\n\n\nRELIGIOUS SKETCHES\n\n\n\n\nCHILDREN\n\n  \"A little child shall lead them.\"\n\n\nOne cold market morning I looked into a milliner's shop, and there\nI saw a hale, hearty, well-browned young fellow from the country,\nwith his long cart whip, and lion-shag coat, holding up some little\nmatter, and turning it about on his great fist. And what do you\nsuppose it was? _A baby's bonnet!_ A little, soft, blue satin hood,\nwith a swan's-down border, white as the new-fallen snow, with a\nfrill of rich blonde around the edge.\n\nBy his side stood a very pretty woman, holding, with no small pride,\nthe baby--for evidently it was _the_ baby. Any one could read that\nfact in every glance, as they looked at each other, and then at the\nlarge, unconscious eyes, and fat, dimpled cheeks of the little one.\n\nIt was evident that neither of them had ever seen a baby like that\nbefore.\n\n\"But really, Mary,\" said the young man, \"isn't three dollars very\nhigh?\"\n\nMary very prudently said nothing, but taking the little bonnet, tied\nit on the little head, and held up the baby. The man looked, and\nwithout another word down went the three dollars--all the avails of\nlast week's butter; and as they walked out of the shop, it is hard\nto say which looked the more delighted with the bargain.\n\n\"Ah,\" thought I, \"a little child shall lead them.\"\n\nAnother day, as I was passing a carriage factory along one of our\nprincipal back streets, I saw a young mechanic at work on a wheel.\nThe rough body of a carriage stood beside him, and there, wrapped up\nsnugly, all hooded and cloaked, sat a little dark-eyed girl, about\na year old, playing with a great, shaggy dog. As I stopped, the man\nlooked up from his work, and turned admiringly towards his little\ncompanion, as much as to say, \"See what I have got here!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" thought I; \"and if the little lady ever gets a glance from\nadmiring swains as sincere as that, she will be lucky.\"\n\nAh, these children, little witches, pretty even in all their faults\nand absurdities. See, for example, yonder little fellow in a naughty\nfit. He has shaken his long curls over his deep blue eyes; the fair\nbrow is bent in a frown, the rose leaf lip is pursed up in infinite\ndefiance, and the white shoulder thrust angrily forward. Can any but\na child look so pretty, even in its naughtiness?\n\nThen comes the instant change; flashing smiles and tears as the\ngood comes back all in a rush, and you are overwhelmed with\nprotestations, promises, and kisses! They are irresistible, too,\nthese little ones. They pull away the scholar's pen, tumble about\nhis paper, make somersets over his books; and what can he do? They\ntear up newspapers, litter the carpets, break, pull, and upset, and\nthen jabber unheard-of English in self-defense; and what can you do\nfor yourself?\n\n\"If I had a child,\" says the precise man, \"you should see.\"\n\nHe does have a child, and his child tears up his papers, tumbles\nover his things, and pulls his nose like all other children; and\nwhat has the precise man to say for himself? Nothing; he is like\neverybody else; \"a little child shall lead him.\"\n\nThe hardened heart of the worldly man is unlocked by the guileless\ntones and simple caresses of his son; but he repays it in time, by\nimparting to his boy all the crooked tricks and callous maxims which\nhave undone himself.\n\nGo to the jail, to the penitentiary, and find there the wretch most\nsullen, brutal, and hardened. Then look at your infant son. Such as\nhe is to you, such to some mother was this man. That hard hand was\nsoft and delicate; that rough voice was tender and lisping; fond\neyes followed him as he played, and he was rocked and cradled as\nsomething holy. There was a time when his heart, soft and unworn,\nmight have opened to questionings of God and Jesus, and been sealed\nwith the seal of Heaven. But harsh hands seized it; fierce goblin\nlineaments were impressed upon it; and all is over with him forever!\n\nSo of the tender, weeping child is made the callous, heartless man;\nof the all-believing child, the sneering skeptic; of the beautiful\nand modest, the shameless and abandoned; and this is what the world\ndoes for the little one.\n\nThere was a time when the divine One stood on earth, and little\nchildren sought to draw near to him. But harsh human beings stood\nbetween him and them, forbidding their approach. Ah, has it not\nalways been so? Do not even we, with our hard and unsubdued\nfeelings, our worldly and unspiritual habits and maxims, stand like\na dark screen between our little child and its Saviour, and keep\neven from the choice bud of our hearts the sweet radiance which\nmight unfold it for paradise? \"Suffer little children to come unto\nme, and forbid them not,\" is still the voice of the Son of God;\nbut the cold world still closes around and forbids. When, of old,\ndisciples would question their Lord of the higher mysteries of his\nkingdom, he took a little child and set him in the midst, as a\nsign of him who should be greatest in heaven. That gentle teacher\nremains still to us. By every hearth and fireside Jesus still sets\nthe little child in the midst of us.\n\nWouldst thou know, O parent, what is that faith which unlocks\nheaven? Go not to wrangling polemics, or creeds and forms of\ntheology, but draw to thy bosom thy little one, and read in that\nclear, trusting eye the lesson of eternal life. Be only to thy God\nas thy child is to thee, and all is done. Blessed shalt thou be,\nindeed, \"when a little child shall lead thee.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE OLD OAK OF ANDOVER\n\nA REVERIE\n\n\nSilently, with dreamy languor, the fleecy snow is falling. Through\nthe windows, flowery with blossoming geranium and heliotrope,\nthrough the downward sweep of crimson and muslin curtain, one\nwatches it as the wind whirls and sways it in swift eddies.\n\nRight opposite our house, on our Mount Clear, is an old oak, the\napostle of the primeval forest. Once, when this place was all\nwildwood, the man who was seeking a spot for the location of the\nbuildings of Phillips Academy climbed this oak, using it as a sort\nof green watch-tower, from whence he might gain a view of the\nsurrounding country. Age and time, since then, have dealt hardly\nwith the stanch old fellow. His limbs have been here and there\nshattered; his back begins to look mossy and dilapidated; but,\nafter all, there is a piquant, decided air about him, that speaks\nthe old age of a tree of distinction, a kingly oak. To-day I see\nhim standing, dimly revealed through the mist of falling snows;\nto-morrow's sun will show the outline of his gnarled limbs--all\nrose color with their soft snow burden; and again a few months,\nand spring will breathe on him, and he will draw a long breath,\nand break out once more, for the three hundredth time, perhaps,\ninto a vernal crown of leaves. I sometimes think that leaves are\nthe thoughts of trees, and that if we only knew it, we should find\ntheir life's experience recorded in them. Our oak! what a crop of\nmeditations and remembrances must he have thrown forth, leafing\nout century after century. Awhile he spake and thought only of red\ndeer and Indians; of the trillium that opened its white triangle in\nhis shade; of the scented arbutus, fair as the pink ocean shell,\nweaving her fragrant mats in the moss at his feet; of feathery\nferns, casting their silent shadows on the checkerberry leaves, and\nall those sweet, wild, nameless, half-mossy things, that live in the\ngloom of forests, and are only desecrated when brought to scientific\nlight, laid out and stretched on a botanic bier. Sweet old forest\ndays!--when blue jay, and yellowhammer, and bobolink made his leaves\nmerry, and summer was a long opera of such music as Mozart dimly\ndreamed. But then came human kind bustling beneath; wondering,\nfussing, exploring, measuring, treading down flowers, cutting down\ntrees, scaring bobolinks--and Andover, as men say, began to be\nsettled.\n\nStanch men were they--these Puritan fathers of Andover. The old\noak must have felt them something akin to himself. Such strong,\nwrestling limbs had they, so gnarled and knotted were they, yet so\noutbursting with a green and vernal crown, yearly springing, of\nnoble and generous thoughts, rustling with leaves which shall be for\nthe healing of nations.\n\nThese men were content with the hard, dry crust for themselves,\nthat they might sow seeds of abundant food for us, their children;\nmen out of whose hardness in enduring we gain leisure to be soft\nand graceful, through whose poverty we have become rich. Like\nMoses, they had for their portion only the pain and weariness of\nthe wilderness, leaving to us the fruition of the promised land.\nLet us cherish for their sake the old oak, beautiful in its age as\nthe broken statue of some antique wrestler, brown with time, yet\nglorious in its suggestion of past achievement.\n\nI think all this the more that I have recently come across the\nfollowing passage in one of our religious papers. The writer\nexpresses a kind of sentiment which one meets very often upon this\nsubject, and leads one to wonder what glamour could have fallen\non the minds of any of the descendants of the Puritans, that they\nshould cast nettles on those honored graves where they should be\nproud to cast their laurels.\n\n\"It is hard,\" he says, \"for a lover of the beautiful--not a\nmere lover, but a believer in its divinity also--to forgive the\nPuritans, or to think charitably of them. It is hard for him to keep\nForefathers' Day, or to subscribe to the Plymouth Monument; hard to\nlook fairly at what they did, with the memory of what they destroyed\nrising up to choke thankfulness; for they were as one-sided and\nnarrow-minded a set of men as ever lived, and saw one of Truth's\nfaces only--the hard, stern, practical face, without loveliness,\nwithout beauty, and only half dear to God. The Puritan flew in\nthe face of facts, not because he saw them and disliked them, but\nbecause he did not see them. He saw foolishness, lying, stealing,\nworldliness,--the very mammon of unrighteousness rioting in the\nworld and bearing sway,--and he ran full tilt against the monster,\nhating it with a very mortal and mundane hatred, and anxious to see\nit bite the dust that his own horn might be exalted. It was in truth\nonly another horn of the old dilemma, tossing and goring grace and\nbeauty, and all the loveliness of life, as if they were the enemies\ninstead of the sure friends of God and man.\"\n\nNow, to those who say this we must ask the question with which\nSocrates of old pursued the sophist: What is beauty? If beauty be\nonly physical, if it appeal only to the senses, if it be only an\nenchantment of graceful forms, sweet sounds, then indeed there might\nbe something of truth in this sweeping declaration that the Puritan\nspirit is the enemy of beauty.\n\nThe very root and foundation of all artistic inquiry lies here.\nWhat is beauty? And to this question God forbid that we Christians\nshould give a narrower answer than Plato gave in the old times\nbefore Christ arose, for he directs the aspirant who would discover\nthe beautiful to \"consider of greater value the beauty existing\n_in the soul_, than that existing in the body.\" More gracefully\nhe teaches the same doctrine when he tells us that \"there are two\nkinds of Venus (beauty); the one, the elder, who had no mother, and\nwas the daughter of Uranus (heaven), whom we name the celestial;\nthe other, younger, daughter of Jupiter and Dione, whom we call the\nvulgar.\"\n\nNow, if disinterestedness, faith, patience, piety, have a beauty\ncelestial and divine, then were our fathers worshipers of the\nbeautiful. If high-mindedness and spotless honor are beautiful\nthings, they had those. What work of art can compare with a lofty\nand heroic life? Is it not better to be a Moses than to be a Michael\nAngelo making statues of Moses? Is not the life of Paul a sublimer\nwork of art than Raphael's cartoons? Are not the patience, the\nfaith, the undying love of Mary by the cross, more beautiful than\nall the Madonna paintings in the world. If, then, we would speak\ntruly of our fathers, we should say that, having their minds fixed\non that celestial beauty of which Plato speaks, they held in slight\nesteem that more common and earthly.\n\nShould we continue the parable in Plato's manner, we might say\nthat the earthly and visible Venus, the outward grace of art and\nnature, was ordained of God as a priestess, through whom men were\nto gain access to the divine, invisible One; but that men, in their\nblindness, ever worship the priestess instead of the divinity.\n\nTherefore it is that great reformers so often must break the shrines\nand temples of the physical and earthly beauty, when they seek to\ndraw men upward to that which is high and divine.\n\nChrist says of John the Baptist, \"What went ye out for to see? A\nman clothed in soft raiment? Behold they which are clothed in soft\nraiment are in kings' palaces.\" So was it when our fathers came\nhere. There were enough wearing soft raiment and dwelling in kings'\npalaces. Life in papal Rome and prelatic England was weighed down\nwith blossoming luxury. There were abundance of people to think of\npictures, and statues, and gems, and cameos, vases and marbles,\nand all manner of deliciousness. The world was all drunk with the\nenchantments of the lower Venus, and it was needful that these men\nshould come, Baptist-like in the wilderness, in raiment of camel's\nhair. We need such men now. Art, they tell us, is waking in America;\na love of the beautiful is beginning to unfold its wings; but what\nkind of art, and what kind of beauty? Are we to fill our houses\nwith pictures and gems, and to see that even our drinking cup and\nvase are wrought in graceful pattern, and to lose our reverence for\nself-denial, honor, and faith?\n\nIs our Venus to be the frail, ensnaring Aphrodite, or the starry,\ndivine Urania?\n\n\n\n\nTHE ELDER'S FEAST\n\nA TRADITION OF LAODICEA\n\n\nAt a certain time in the earlier ages there lived in the city of\nLaodicea a Christian elder of some repute, named Onesiphorus. The\nworld had smiled on him, and though a Christian, he was rich and\nfull of honors. All men, even the heathen, spoke well of him, for he\nwas a man courteous of speech and mild of manner.\n\nHis wife, a fair Ionian lady but half reclaimed from idolatry,\nthough baptized and accredited as a member of the Christian Church,\nstill lingered lovingly on the confines of old heathenism, and\nif she did not believe, still cherished with pleasure the poetic\nlegends of Apollo and Venus, of Jove and Diana.\n\nA large and fair family of sons and daughters had risen around these\nparents; but their education had been much after the rudiments of\nthis world, and not after Christ. Though, according to the customs\nof the church, they were brought to the font of baptism, and sealed\nin the name of the Father, and the Son, and Holy Ghost, and although\ndaily, instead of libations to the Penates, or flower offerings to\nDiana and Juno, the name of Jesus was invoked, yet the _spirit_ of\nJesus was wanting. The chosen associates of all these children,\nas they grew older, were among the heathen; and daily they urged\ntheir parents, by their entreaties, to conform, in one thing after\nanother, to heathen usage. \"Why should we be singular, mother?\" said\nthe dark-eyed Myrrah, as she bound her hair and arranged her dress\nafter the fashion of the girls in the temple of Venus. \"Why may we\nnot wear the golden ornaments and images which have been consecrated\nto heathen goddesses?\" said the sprightly Thalia; \"surely none\nothers are to be bought, and are we to do altogether without?\" \"And\nwhy may we not be at feasts where libations are made to Apollo\nor Jupiter?\" said the sons; \"so long as we do not consent to it\nor believe in it, will our faith be shaken thereby?\" \"How are we\never to reclaim the heathen, if we do not mingle among them?\" said\nanother son; \"did not our Master eat with publicans and sinners?\"\n\nIt was, however, to be remarked, that no conversions of the heathen\nto Christianity ever took place through the means of these complying\nsons and daughters, or any of the number who followed their example.\nInstead of withdrawing any from the confines of heathenism, they\nthemselves were drawn so nearly over, that in certain situations and\ncircumstances they would undoubtedly have been ranked among them by\nany but a most scrutinizing observer. If any in the city of Laodicea\nwere ever led to unite themselves with Jesus, it was by means of a\nfew who observed the full simplicity of the ancient faith, and who,\nthough honest, tender, and courteous in all their dealings with the\nheathen, still went not a step with them in conformity to any of\ntheir customs.\n\nIn time, though the family we speak of never broke off from the\nChristian Church, yet if you had been in it, you might have heard\nmuch warm and earnest conversation about things that took place\nat the baths, or in feasts to various divinities; but if any one\nspoke of Jesus, there was immediately a cold silence, a decorous,\nchilling, respectful pause, after which the conversation, with a\nbound, flew back into the old channel again.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt was now night; and the house of Onesiphorus the Elder was\nblazing with torches, alive with music, and all the hurry and stir\nof a sumptuous banquet. All the wealth and fashion of Laodicea\nwere there, Christian and heathen; and all that the classic\nvoluptuousness of Oriental Greece could give to shed enchantment\nover the scene was there. In ancient times the festivals of\nChristians in Laodicea had been regulated in the spirit of the\ncommand of Jesus, as recorded by Luke, whose classical Greek had\nmade his the established version in Asia Minor. \"And thou, when thou\nmakest a feast, call not thy friends and thy kinsmen, nor thy rich\nneighbors, lest they also bid thee, and a recompense be made thee.\nBut when thou makest a feast, call the poor, and the maimed, and\nthe lame, and the blind, and thou shalt be blessed; for they cannot\nrecompense thee, but thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection\nof the just.\"\n\nThat very day, before the entertainment, had this passage been\nquoted in the ears of the family by Cleon, the youngest son, who,\ndifferent from all his family, had cherished in his bosom the\nsimplicity of the old belief.\n\n\"How ridiculous! how absurd!\" had been the reply of the more\nthoughtless members of the family, when Cleon cited the above\npassage as in point to the evening's entertainment. The dark-eyed\nmother looked reproof on the levity of the younger children, and\ndecorously applauded the passage, which she said had no application\nto the matter in hand.\n\n\"But, mother, even if the passage be not literally taken, it\nmust mean something. What did the Lord Jesus intend by it? If we\nChristians may make entertainments with all the parade and expense\nof our heathen neighbors, and thus spend the money that might be\ndevoted to charity, what does this passage mean?\"\n\n\"Your father gives in charity as handsomely as any Christian in\nLaodicea,\" said his mother warmly.\n\n\"Nay, mother, that may be; but I bethink me now of two or three\ntimes when means have been wanting for the relieving of the poor,\nand the ransoming of captives, and the support of apostles, when we\nhave said that we could give no more.\"\n\n\"My son,\" said his mother, \"you do not understand the ways of the\nworld.\"\n\n\"Nay, how should he,\" said Thalia, \"shut up day and night with that\nold papyrus of St. Luke and Paul's Epistles? One may have too much\nof a good thing.\"\n\n\"But does not the holy Paul say, 'Be not conformed to this world'?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" said the elder; \"that means that we should be baptized,\nand not worship in the heathen temples.\"\n\n\"My dear son,\" said his mother, \"you intend well, doubtless; but\nyou have not sufficient knowledge of life to estimate our relations\nto society. Entertainments of this sort are absolutely necessary\nto sustain our position in the world. If we accept, we must return\nthem.\"\n\nBut not to dwell on this conversation, let us suppose ourselves in\nthe rooms now glittering with lights, and gay with every costly\nluxury of wealth and taste. Here were statues to Diana and Apollo,\nand to the household Juno--not meant for worship--of course not--but\nsimply to conform to the general usages of good society; and so far\nhad this complaisance been carried, that the shrine of a peerless\nVenus was adorned with garlands and votive offerings, and an\nexquisitely wrought silver censer diffused its perfume on the marble\naltar in front. This complaisance on the part of some of the younger\nmembers of the family drew from the elder a gentle remonstrance, as\nhaving an unseemly appearance for those bearing the Christian name;\nbut they readily answered, \"Has not Paul said, 'We know that an idol\nis nothing'? Where is the harm of an elegant statue, considered\nmerely as a consummate work of art? As for the flowers, are they\nnot simply the most appropriate ornament? And where is the harm of\nburning exquisite perfume? And is it worse to burn it in one place\nthan another?\"\n\n\"Upon my sword,\" said one of the heathen guests, as he wandered\nthrough the gay scene, \"how liberal and accommodating these\nChristians are becoming! Except in a few small matters in the\ntemple, they seem to be with us entirely.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said another, \"it was not so years back. Nothing was heard\namong them, then, but prayers, and alms, and visits to the poor and\nsick; and when they met together in their feasts, there was so much\nof their talk of Christ, and such singing of hymns and prayer, that\none of us found himself quite out of place.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said an old man present, \"in those days I quite bethought\nme of being some day a Christian; but look you, they are grown so\nnear like us now, it is scarce worth one's while to change. A little\nmatter of ceremony in the temple, and offering incense to Jesus,\ninstead of Jupiter, when all else is the same, can make small odds\nin a man.\"\n\nBut now, the ancient legend goes on to say, that in the midst of\nthat gay and brilliant evening, a stranger of remarkable appearance\nand manners was noticed among the throng. None knew him, or whence\nhe came. He mingled not in the mirth, and seemed to recognize no one\npresent, though he regarded all that was passing with a peculiar air\nof still and earnest attention; and wherever he moved, his calm,\npenetrating gaze seemed to diffuse a singular uneasiness about\nhim. Now his eye was fixed with a quiet scrutiny on the idolatrous\nstatues, with their votive adornments--now it followed earnestly the\nyoung forms that were wreathing in the graceful waves of the dance;\nand then he turned toward the tables, loaded with every luxury and\nsparkling with wines, where the devotion to Bacchus became more\nthan poetic fiction; and as he gazed, a high, indignant sorrow\nseemed to overshadow the calmness of his majestic face. When, in\nthoughtless merriment, some of the gay company sought to address\nhim, they found themselves shrinking involuntarily from the soft,\npiercing eye, and trembling at the low, sweet tones in which he\nreplied. What he spoke was brief; but there was a gravity and tender\nwisdom in it that strangely contrasted with the frivolous scene, and\nawakened unwonted ideas of heavenly purity even in thoughtless and\ndissipated minds.\n\nThe only one of the company who seemed to seek his society was\nthe youngest, the fair little child Isa. She seemed as strangely\nattracted towards him as others were repelled; and when,\nunsolicited, in the frank confidence of childhood she pressed to\nhis side, and placed her little hand in his, the look of radiant\ncompassion and tenderness which beamed down from those eyes was\nindeed glorious to behold. Yet here and there, as he glided among\nthe crowd, he spoke in the ear of some Christian words which, though\nsoft and low, seemed to have a mysterious and startling power; for\none after another, pensive, abashed, and confounded, they drew aside\nfrom the gay scene, and seemed lost in thought. That stranger--who\nwas he? Who? The inquiry passed from mouth to mouth, and one and\nanother, who had listened to his low, earnest tones, looked on each\nother with a troubled air. Erelong he had glided hither and thither\nin the crowd; he had spoken in the ear of every Christian--and\nsuddenly again he was gone, and they saw him no more. Each had\nfelt the heart thrill within--each spirit had vibrated as if the\nfinger of its Creator had touched it, and shrunk conscious as if an\nomniscient eye were upon it. Each heart was stirred from its depths.\nVain sophistries, worldly maxims, making the false look true, all\nappeared to rise and clear away like a mist; and at once each one\nseemed to see, as God sees, the true state of the inner world, the\ntrue motive and reason of action, and in the instinctive pause that\npassed through the company, the banquet was broken up and deserted.\n\n\"And what if their God were present?\" said one of the heathen\nmembers of the company, next day. \"Why did they all look so blank?\nA most favorable omen, we should call it, to have one's patron\ndivinity at a feast.\"\n\n\"Besides,\" said another, \"these Christians hold that their God is\nalways everywhere present; so, at most, they have but had their eyes\nopened to see Him who is always there!\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhat is practically the meaning of the precept, \"Be not conformed\nto the world\"? In its every-day results, it presents many problems\ndifficult of solution. There are so many shades and blendings of\nsituation and circumstances, so many things, innocent and graceful\nin themselves, which, like flowers and incense on a heathen altar,\nbecome unchristian only through position and circumstances, that the\nmost honest and well-intentioned are often perplexed.\n\nThat we must conform in some things is conceded; yet the whole\ntenor of the New Testament shows that this conformity must have its\nlimits--that Christians are to be transformed, so as to exhibit to\nthe world a higher and more complete style of life, and thus \"prove\nwhat is the good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God.\"\n\nBut in many particulars as to style of living and modes of social\nintercourse, there can be no definite rules laid down, and no\nChristian can venture to judge another by his standard.\n\nOne Christian condemns dress adornment, and the whole application of\ntaste to the usages of life, as a sinful waste of time and money.\nAnother, perceiving in every work of God a love and appreciation\nof the beautiful, believes that there is a sphere in which he is\npleased to see the same trait in his children, if the indulgence do\nnot become excessive, and thus interfere with higher duties.\n\nOne condemns all time and expense laid out in social visiting as\nso much waste. Another remembers that Jesus, when just entering\non the most vast and absorbing work, turned aside to attend a\nwedding feast, and wrought his first miracle to enhance its social\nenjoyment. Again, there are others who, because some indulgence of\ntaste and some exercise for the social powers are admissible, go all\nlengths in extravagance, and in company, dress, and the externals of\nlife.\n\nIn the same manner, with regard to style of life and social\nentertainment--most of the items which go to constitute what is\ncalled style of living, or the style of particular parties, may\nbe in themselves innocent, and yet they may be so interwoven and\ncombined with evils, that the whole effect shall be felt to be\ndecidedly unchristian, both by Christians and the world. How, then,\nshall the well-disposed person know where to stop, and how to strike\nthe just medium?\n\nWe know of but one safe rule: read the life of Jesus with\nattention--study it--inquire earnestly with yourself, \"What sort of\na person, in thought, in feeling, in action, was my Saviour?\"--live\nin constant sympathy and communion with him--and there will be\nwithin a kind of instinctive rule by which to try all things. A\nyoung man, who was to be exposed to the temptations of one of the\nmost dissipated European capitals, carried with him his father's\npicture, and hung it in his apartment. Before going out to any of\nthe numerous resorts of the city, he was accustomed to contemplate\nthis picture, and say to himself, \"Would my father wish to see me\nin the place to which I am going?\" and thus was he saved from many\na temptation. In like manner the Christian, who has always by his\nside the beautiful ideal of his Saviour, finds it a holy charm,\nby which he is gently restrained from all that is unsuitable to\nhis profession. He has but to inquire of any scene or employment,\n\"Should I be well pleased to meet my Saviour there? Would the trains\nof thought I should there fall into, the state of mind that would\nthere be induced, be such as would harmonize with an interview with\nhim?\" Thus protected and defended, social enjoyment might be like\nthat of Mary and John, and the disciples, when, under the mild,\napproving eye of the Son of God, they shared the festivities of\nCana.\n\n\n\n\nA SCENE IN JERUSALEM\n\n\nIt is now nearly noon, the busiest and most bustling hour of the\nday; yet the streets of the Holy City seem deserted and silent\nas the grave. The artisan has left his bench, the merchant his\nmerchandise; the throngs of returned wanderers which this great\nnational festival has brought up from every land of the earth, and\nwhich have been for the last week carrying life and motion through\nevery street, seem suddenly to have disappeared. Here and there\nsolitary footfalls, like the last pattering rain-drops after a\nshower, awaken the echoes of the streets; and here and there some\nlonely woman looks from the housetop with anxious and agitated face,\nas if she would discern something in the far distance.\n\nAlone, or almost alone, the few remaining priests move like\nwhite-winged, solitary birds over the gorgeous pavements of the\ntemple, and as they mechanically conduct the ministrations of the\nday, cast significant glances on each other, and pause here and\nthere to converse in anxious whispers.\n\nAh, there is one voice which they have often heard beneath those\narches--a voice which ever bore in it a mysterious and thrilling\ncharm--which they know will be hushed to-day. Chief priest, scribe,\nand doctor have all gone out in the death procession after him; and\nthese few remaining ones, far from the excitement of the crowd, and\nbusied in calm and sacred duties, find voices of anxious questioning\nrising from the depths of their own souls, \"What if this indeed were\nthe Christ?\"\n\nBut pass we on out of the city, and what a surging tide of life and\nmotion meets the eye, as if all nations under heaven had dashed\ntheir waves of population on this Jud\u00e6an shore! A noisy, wrathful,\ntempestuous mob, billow on billow, waver and rally round some\ncentral object, which it conceals from view. Parthians, Medes,\nElamites, dwellers in Mesopotamia and Egypt, strangers of Rome,\nCretes and Arabians, Jew and Proselyte, convoked from the ends of\nthe earth, throng in agitated concourse one on another; one theme in\nevery face, on every tongue, one name in every variety of accent and\ndialect passing from lip to lip--\n\n\"Jesus of Nazareth.\"\n\nLook on that man--the centre and cause of all this outburst! He\nstands there alone. The cross is ready. It lies beneath his feet.\nThe rough hand of a brutal soldier has seized his robe to tear it\nfrom him. Another with stalwart arm is boring the holes, gazing\nupward the while with a face of stupid unconcern. There on the\nground lie the hammer and the nails: the hour, the moment of doom\nis come! Look on this man, as upward, with deep, sorrowing eyes, he\ngazes towards heaven. Hears he the roar of the mob? Feels he the\nrough hand on his garment? Nay, he sees not, feels not: from all\nthe rage and tumult of the hour he is rapt away. A sorrow deeper,\nmore absorbing, more unearthly seems to possess him, as upward\nwith long gaze he looks to that heaven never before closed to his\nprayer, to that God never before to him invisible. That mournful,\nheaven-searching glance, in its lonely anguish, says but one thing:\n\"Lo, I come to do thy will, O God.\"\n\nThrough a life of sorrow the realized love of his Father has shone\nlike a precious and beautiful talisman in his bosom; but now, when\ndesolation and anguish have come upon him as a whirlwind, this last\nstar has gone out in the darkness, and Jesus, deserted by man and\nGod, stands there alone.\n\nAlone? No; for undaunted by the cruel mob, fearless in the strength\nof mortal anguish, helpless, yet undismayed, stands the one blessed\namong women, the royal daughter of a noble line, the priestess\nto whose care was intrusted this spotless sacrifice. She and her\nson, last of a race of kings, stand there despised, rejected, and\ndisavowed by their nation, to accomplish dread words of prophecy,\nwhich have swept down for far ages to this hour.\n\nStrange it is, in this dark scene, to see the likeness between\nmother and son, deepening in every line of those faces, as they\nstand thus thrown out by the dark background of rage and hate, which\nlike a storm-cloud lowers around. The same rapt, absorbed, calm\nintensity of anguish in both mother and son, save only that while\nhe gazes upward towards God, she, with like fervor, gazes on him.\nWhat to her is the deriding mob, the coarse taunt, the brutal abuse?\nOf it all she hears, she feels nothing. She sinks not, faints not,\nweeps not; her whole being concentrates in the will to suffer by\nand with him to the last. Other hearts there are that beat for him;\nothers that press into the doomed circle, and own him amid the scorn\nof thousands. There may you see the clasped hands and upraised eyes\nof a Magdalen, the pale and steady resolve of John, the weeping\ncompany of women who bewailed and lamented him; but none dare press\nso near, or seem so identical with him in his sufferings, as this\nmother.\n\nAnd as we gaze on these two in human form, surrounded by other human\nforms, how strange the contrast! How is it possible that human\nfeatures and human lineaments essentially alike can be wrought into\nsuch heaven-wide contrast? Man is he who stands there, lofty and\nspotless, in bleeding patience! Men also are those brutal soldiers,\nalike stupidly ready, at the word of command, to drive the nail\nthrough quivering flesh or insensate wood. Men are those scowling\npriests and infuriate Pharisees. Men, also, the shifting figures\nof the careless rabble, who shout and curse without knowing why.\nNo visible glory shines round that head; yet how, spite of every\ndefilement cast upon him by the vulgar rabble, seems that form to be\nglorified! What light is that in those eyes! What mournful beauty in\nthat face! What solemn, mysterious sacredness investing the whole\nform, constraining from us the exclamation, \"Surely this is the Son\nof God.\" Man's voice is breathing vulgar taunt and jeer: \"He saved\nothers; himself he cannot save.\" \"He trusted in God; let him deliver\nhim if he will have him.\" And man's, also, clear, sweet, unearthly,\npierces that stormy mob, saying, \"Father, forgive them; they know\nnot what they do.\"\n\nBut we draw the veil in reverence. It is not ours to picture what\nthe sun refused to shine upon, and earth shook to behold.\n\nLittle thought those weeping women, that stricken disciple, that\nheartbroken mother, how on some future day that cross--emblem to\nthem of deepest infamy--should blaze in the eye of all nations,\nsymbol of triumph and hope, glittering on gorgeous fanes,\nembroidered on regal banners, associated with all that is revered\nand powerful on earth. The Roman ensign that waved on that mournful\nday, symbol of highest earthly power, is a thing mouldered and\nforgotten; and over all the high places of old Rome, herself, stands\nthat mystical cross, no longer speaking of earthly anguish and\ndespair, but of heavenly glory, honor, and immortality.\n\nTheologians have endlessly disputed and philosophized on this great\nfact of atonement. The Bible tells only that this tragic event was\nthe essential point without which our salvation could never have\nbeen secured. But where lay the necessity they do not say. What was\nthat dread strait that either the divine One must thus suffer, or\nman be lost, who knoweth?\n\nTo this question answer a thousand voices, with each a different\nsolution, urged with equal confidence--each solution to its framer\nas certain and sacred as the dread fact it explains--yet every\none, perhaps, unsatisfactory to the deep-questioning soul. The\nBible, as it always does, gives on this point not definitions or\ndistinct outlines, but images--images which lose all their glory\nand beauty if seized by the harsh hands of metaphysical analysis,\nbut inexpressibly affecting to the unlettered human heart, which\nsoftens in gazing on their mournful and mysterious beauty. Christ is\ncalled our sacrifice, our passover, our atoning high priest; and he\nhimself, while holding in his hands the emblem cup, says, \"It is my\nblood shed for many, for the remission of sins.\" Let us reason on it\nas we will, this story of the cross, presented without explanation\nin the simple metaphor of the Bible, has produced an effect on\nhuman nature wholly unaccountable. In every age and clime, with\nevery variety of habit, thought, and feeling, from the cannibals of\nNew Zealand and Madagascar to the most enlightened and scientific\nminds in Christendom, one feeling, essentially homogeneous in its\ncharacter and results, has arisen in view of this cross. There is\nsomething in it that strikes one of the great nerves of simple,\nunsophisticated humanity, and meets its wants as nothing else\nwill. Ages ago, Paul declared to philosophizing Greek and scornful\nRoman that he was not ashamed of this gospel, and alleged for his\nreason this very adaptedness to humanity. _A priori_, many would\nhave said that Paul should have told of Christ living, Christ\npreaching, Christ working miracles, not omitting also the pathetic\nhistory of how he sealed all with his blood; but Paul declared that\nhe determined to know nothing else but Christ crucified. He said\nit was a stumbling-block to the Jew, an absurdity to the Greek;\nyet he was none the less positive in his course. True, there were\nmany then, as now, who looked on with the most philosophic and\ncultivated indifference. The courtly Festus, as he settled his\npurple tunic, declared he could make nothing of the matter, only a\ndispute about one Jesus, who was dead, and whom Paul affirmed to\nbe alive; and perchance some Athenian, as he reclined on his ivory\ncouch at dinner, after the sermon on Mars Hill, may have disposed\nof the matter very summarily, and passed on to criticisms on Samian\nwine and marble vases. Yet in spite of their disbelief, this story\nof Christ has outlived them, their age and nation, and is to this\nhour as fresh in human hearts as if it were just published. This\n\"one Jesus which was dead, and whom Paul affirmed to be alive,\" is\nnominally, at least, the object of religious homage in all the more\ncultivated portions of the globe; and to hearts scattered through\nall regions of the earth this same Jesus is now a sacred and living\nname, dearer than all household sounds, all ties of blood, all\nsweetest and nearest affections of humanity. \"I am ready not only to\nbe bound, but also to die for the name of the Lord Jesus,\" are words\nthat have found an echo in the bosoms of thousands in every age\nsince then; that would, if need were, find no less echo in thousands\nnow. Considering Christ as a man, and his death as a mere pathetic\nstory,--considering him as one of the great martyrs for truth, who\nsealed it with his blood,--this result is wholly unaccountable.\nOther martyrs have died, bravely and tenderly, in their last\nhours \"bearing witness of the godlike\" that is in man; but who so\nremembers them? Who so loves them? To whom is any one of them a\nliving presence, a life, and all? Yet so thousands look on Jesus at\nthis hour.\n\nNay, it is because this story strikes home to every human bosom\nas an individual concern. A thrilling voice speaks from this scene\nof anguish to every human bosom: This is thy Saviour. Thy sin hath\ndone this. It is the appropriative words, thine and mine, which make\nthis history different from any other history. This was for _me_,\nis the thought which has pierced the apathy of the Greenlander, and\nkindled the stolid clay of the Hottentot; and no human bosom has\never been found so low, so lost, so guilty, so despairing, that\nthis truth, once received, has not had power to redeem, regenerate,\nand disenthrall. Christ so presented becomes to every human being a\nfriend nearer than the mother who bore him; and the more degraded,\nthe more hopeless and polluted is the nature, the stronger comes on\nthe living reaction, if this belief is really and vividly enkindled\nwith it. But take away this appropriative, individual element, and\nthis legend of Jesus' death has no more power than any other. He is\nto us no more than Washington, or Socrates, or Howard. And where is\nthere not a touchstone to try every theory of atonement? Whatever\nmakes a man feel that he is only a spectator, an uninterested\njudge in this matter, is surely astray from the idea of the Bible.\nWhatever makes him feel that his sins have done this deed, that he\nis bound, soul and body, to this Deliverer, though it may be in many\npoints philosophically erroneous, cannot go far astray.\n\nIf we could tell the number of the stars, and call them forth by\nname, then, perhaps, might we solve all the mystic symbols by\nwhich the Bible has shadowed forth the far-lying necessities and\nreachings-forth of this event \"among principalities and powers,\"\nand in \"ages to come.\" But he who knows nothing of all this, who\nshall so present the atonement as to bind and affiance human souls\nindissolubly to their Redeemer, does all that could be done by the\nhighest and most perfect knowledge.\n\nThe great object is accomplished, when the soul, rapt, inspired,\nfeels the deep resolve:--\n\n                \"Remember Thee!\n    Yea, from the table of my memory\n    I'll wipe away all trivial, fond records,\n    All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past\n    That youth and observation copied there,\n    And thy commandment all alone shall live\n    Within the book and volume of my brain,\n    Unmixed with baser matter.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE OLD MEETING-HOUSE\n\nSKETCH FROM THE NOTE-BOOK OF AN OLD GENTLEMAN\n\n\nNever shall I forget the dignity and sense of importance which\nswelled my mind when I was first pronounced old enough to go to\nmeeting. That eventful Sunday I was up long before day, and even\ntook my Sabbath suit to the window to ascertain by the first light\nthat it actually was there, just as it looked the night before. With\nwhat complacency did I view myself completely dressed! How did I\ncount over the rows of yellow gilt buttons on my coat! how my good\nmother, grandmother, and aunts fussed, and twitched, and pulled, to\nmake everything set up and set down, just in the proper place! how\nmy clean, starched white collar was turned over and smoothed again\nand again, and my golden curls twisted and arranged to make the most\nof me! and, last of all, how I was cautioned not to be thinking of\nmy clothes. In truth, I was in those days a very handsome youngster,\nand it really is no more than justice to let the fact be known,\nas there is nothing in my present appearance from which it could\never be inferred. Everybody in the house successively asked me if\nI should be a good boy, and sit still, and not talk, nor laugh;\nand my mother informed me, _in terrorem_, that there was a tithing\nman, who carried off naughty children, and shut them up in a dark\nplace behind the pulpit; and that this tithing man, Mr. Zephaniah\nScranton, sat just where he could see me. This fact impressed\nmy mind with more solemnity than all the exhortations which had\npreceded it--a proof of the efficacy of facts above reason. Under\nshadow and power of this weighty truth, I demurely took hold of my\nmother's forefinger to walk to meeting.\n\nThe traveler in New England, as he stands on some eminence, and\nlooks down on its rich landscape of golden grain and waving\ncornfield, sees no feature more beautiful than its simple churches,\nwhose white taper fingers point upward, amid the greenness and bloom\nof the distant prospects, as if to remind one of the overshadowing\nprovidence whence all this luxuriant beauty flows; and year by\nyear, as new ones are added to the number, or succeed in the place\nof old ones, there is discernible an evident improvement in their\ntaste and architecture. Those modest Doric little buildings, with\ntheir white pillars, green blinds, and neat inclosures, are very\ndifferent affairs from those great, uncouth mountains of windows\nand doors that stood in the same place years before. To my childish\neye, however, our old meeting-house was an awe-inspiring thing.\nTo me it seemed fashioned very nearly on the model of Noah's ark\nand Solomon's temple, as set forth in the pictures in my Scripture\nCatechism--pictures which I did not doubt were authentic copies; and\nwhat more respectable and venerable architectural precedent could\nany one desire? Its double rows of windows, of which I knew the\nnumber by heart, its doors with great wooden quirls over them, its\nbelfry projecting out at the east end, its steeple and bell, all\ninspired as much sense of the sublime in me as Strasbourg Cathedral\nitself; and the inside was not a whit less imposing.\n\nHow magnificent, to my eye, seemed the turnip-like canopy that\nhung over the minister's head, hooked by a long iron rod to the\nwall above! and how apprehensively did I consider the question,\nwhat would become of him if it should fall! How did I wonder\nat the panels on either side of the pulpit, in each of which\nwas carved and painted a flaming red tulip, bolt upright, with\nits leaves projecting out at right angles! and then at the\ngrapevine, bas-relieved on the front, with its exactly triangular\nbunches of grapes, alternating at exact intervals with exactly\ntriangular leaves. To me it was an indisputable representation of\nhow grapevines ought to look, if they would only be straight and\nregular, instead of curling and scrambling, and twisting themselves\ninto all sorts of slovenly shapes. The area of the house was divided\ninto large square pews, boxed up with stout boards, and surmounted\nwith a kind of baluster work, which I supposed to be provided for\nthe special accommodation of us youngsters, being the \"loopholes\nof retreat\" through which we gazed on the \"remarkabilia\" of the\nscene. It was especially interesting to me to notice the coming in\nto meeting of the congregation. The doors were so contrived that on\nentering you stepped down instead of up--a construction that has\nmore than once led to unlucky results in the case of strangers. I\nremember once when an unlucky Frenchman, entirely unsuspicious of\nthe danger that awaited him, made entrance by pitching devoutly\nupon his nose in the middle of the broad aisle; that it took three\nbunches of my grandmother's fennel to bring my risibles into\nanything like composure. Such exhibitions, fortunately for me,\nwere very rare; but still I found great amusement in watching the\ndistinctive and marked outlines of the various people that filled\nup the seats around me. A Yankee village presents a picture of the\ncuriosities of every generation: there from year to year, they live\non, preserved by hard labor and regular habits, exhibiting every\npeculiarity of manner and appearance, as distinctly marked as when\nthey first came from the mint of nature. And as everybody goes\npunctually to meeting, the meeting-house becomes a sort of museum of\nantiquities--a general muster ground for past and present.\n\nI remember still with what wondering admiration I used to look\naround on the people that surrounded our pew. On one side there\nwas an old Captain McLean, and Major McDill, a couple whom the\nmischievous wits of the village designated as Captain McLean and\nCaptain McFat; and, in truth, they were a perfect antithesis,\na living exemplification of flesh and spirit. Captain McLean\nwas a mournful, lengthy, considerate-looking old gentleman,\nwith a long face, digressing into a long, thin, horny nose,\nwhich, when he applied his pocket-handkerchief, gave forth a\nmelancholy, minor-keyed sound, such as a ghost might make, using a\npocket-handkerchief in the long gallery of some old castle.\n\nClose at his side was the doughty, puffing Captain McDill, whose\nfull-orbed, jolly visage was illuminated by a most valiant red nose,\nshaped something like an overgrown doughnut, and looking as if it\nhad been thrown at his face, and happened to hit in the middle.\nThen there was old Israel Peters, with a wooden leg, which tramped\ninto meeting, with undeviating regularity, ten minutes before\nmeeting time; and there was Jedediah Stebbins, a thin, wistful,\nmoonshiny-looking old gentleman, whose mouth appeared as if it had\nbeen gathered up with a needle and thread, and whose eyes seemed\nas if they had been bound with red tape; and there was old Benaiah\nStephens, who used regularly to get up and stand when the minister\nwas about half through his sermon, exhibiting his tall figure, long,\nsingle-breasted coat, with buttons nearly as large as a tea plate;\nhis large, black, horn spectacles stretched down on the extreme end\nof a very long nose, and vigorously chewing, meanwhile, on the bunch\nof caraway which he always carried in one hand. Then there was Aunt\nSally Stimpson, and old Widow Smith, and a whole bevy of little,\ndried old ladies, with small, straight, black bonnets, tight sleeves\nto the elbow, long silk gloves, and great fans, big enough for a\nwindmill; and of a hot day it was a great amusement to me to watch\nthe bobbing of the little black bonnets, which showed that sleep\nhad got the better of their owners' attention, and the sputter and\nrustling of the fans, when a more profound nod than common would\nsuddenly waken them, and set them to fanning and listening with\nredoubled devotion. There was Deacon Dundas, a great wagon load\nof an old gentleman, whose ample pockets looked as if they might\nhave held half the congregation, who used to establish himself just\non one side of me, and seemed to feel such entire confidence in\nthe soundness and capacity of his pastor that he could sleep very\ncomfortably from one end of the sermon to the other. Occasionally,\nto be sure, one of your officious blue flies, who, as everybody\nknows, are amazingly particular about such matters, would buzz into\nhis mouth, or flirt into his ears a passing admonition as to the\nimpropriety of sleeping in meeting, when the good old gentleman\nwould start, open his eyes very wide, and look about with a resolute\nair, as much as to say, \"I wasn't asleep, I can tell you;\" and then\nsetting himself in an edifying posture of attention, you might\nperceive his head gradually settling back, his mouth slowly opening\nwider and wider, till the good man would go off again soundly\nasleep, as if nothing had happened.\n\nIt was a good orthodox custom of old times to take every part of\nthe domestic establishment to meeting, even down to the faithful\ndog, who, as he had supervised the labors of the week, also came\nwith due particularity to supervise the worship of Sunday. I think\nI can see now the fitting out on a Sunday morning--the one wagon,\nor two, as the case might be, tackled up with an \"old gray\" or an\n\"old bay,\" with a buffalo skin over the seat by way of cushion, and\nall the family, in their Sunday best, packed in for meeting; while\nMaster Bose, Watch, or Towser stood prepared to be an outguard, and\nwent meekly trotting up hill and down dale in the rear. Arrived at\nmeeting, the canine part of the establishment generally conducted\nthemselves with great decorum, lying down and going to sleep as\ndecently as anybody present, except when some of the business-loving\nbluebottles aforesaid would make a sortie upon them, when you might\nhear the snap of their jaws as they vainly sought to lay hold of the\noffender. Now and then, between some of the sixthlies, seventhlies,\nand eighthlies, you might hear some old patriarch giving himself a\nrousing shake, and pitpatting soberly up the aisles, as if to see\nthat everything was going on properly, after which he would lie\ndown and compose himself to sleep again; and certainly this was as\nimproving a way of spending Sunday as a good Christian dog could\ndesire.\n\nBut the glory of our meeting-house was its singers' seat--that\nempyrean of those who rejoiced in the divine, mysterious art of\nfa-sol-la-ing, who, by a distinguishing grace and privilege, could\n\"raise and fall\" the cabalistical eighth notes, and move serene\nthrough the enchanted region of flats, sharps, thirds, fifths, and\noctaves.\n\nThere they sat in the gallery that lined three sides of the house,\ntreble, counter, tenor, and bass, each with its appropriate\nleaders and supporters; there were generally seated the bloom\nof our young people; sparkling, modest, and blushing girls on\none side, with their ribbons and finery, making the place where\nthey sat as blooming and lively as a flower garden, and fiery,\nforward, confident young men on the other. In spite of its being\na meeting-house, we could not swear that glances were never given\nand returned, and that there was not often as much of an approach\nto flirtation as the distance and the sobriety of the place would\nadmit. Certain it was, that there was no place where our village\ncoquettes attracted half so many eyes or led astray half so many\nhearts.\n\nBut I have been talking of singers all this time, and neglected\nto mention the Magnus Apollo of the whole concern, the redoubtable\nchorister, who occupied the seat of honor in the midst of the middle\ngallery, and exactly opposite to the minister. Certain it is that\nthe good man, if he were alive, would never believe it; for no\nperson ever more magnified his office, or had a more thorough belief\nin his own greatness and supremacy, than Zedekiah Morse. Methinks I\ncan see him now as he appeared to my eyes on that first Sunday, when\nhe shot up from behind the gallery, as if he had been sent up by a\nspring. He was a little man, whose fiery red hair, brushed straight\nupon the top of his head, had an appearance as vigorous and lively\nas real flame; and this, added to the ardor and determination of all\nhis motions, had obtained for him the surname of the \"Burning Bush.\"\nHe seemed possessed with the very soul of song; and from the moment\nhe began to sing, looked alive all over, till it seemed to me that\nhis whole body would follow his hair upwards, fairly rapt away by\nthe power of harmony. With what an air did he sound the important\nfa-sol-la in the ears of the waiting gallery, who stood with open\nmouths ready to seize their pitch, preparatory to their general _set\nto_! How did his ascending and descending arm astonish the zephyrs\nwhen once he laid himself out to the important work of beating\ntime! How did his little head whisk from side to side, as now he\nbeat and roared towards the ladies on his right, and now towards\nthe gentlemen on his left! It used to seem to my astonished vision\nas if his form grew taller, his arm longer, his hair redder, and\nhis little green eyes brighter, with every stave; and particularly\nwhen he perceived any falling off of time or discrepancy in pitch;\nwith what redoubled vigor would he thump the gallery and roar at the\ndelinquent quarter, till every mother's son and daughter of them\nskipped and scrambled into the right place again!\n\nOh, it was a fine thing to see the vigor and discipline with which\nhe managed the business; so that if, on a hot, drowsy Sunday, any\npart of the choir hung back or sung sleepily on the first part of a\nverse, they were obliged to bestir themselves in good earnest, and\nsing three times as fast, in order to get through with the others.\n'Kiah Morse was no advocate for your dozy, drawling singing, that\none may do at leisure, between sleeping and waking, I assure you;\nindeed, he got entirely out of the graces of Deacon Dundas and one\nor two other portly, leisurely old gentlemen below, who had been\nused to throw back their heads, shut up their eyes, and take the\ncomfort of the psalm, by prolonging indefinitely all the notes. The\nfirst Sunday after 'Kiah took the music in hand, the old deacon\nreally rubbed his eyes and looked about him, for the psalm was sung\noff before he was ready to get his mouth opened, and he really\nlooked upon it as a most irreverent piece of business.\n\nBut the glory of 'Kiah's art consisted in the execution of those\ngood old billowy compositions called fuguing tunes, where the four\nparts that compose the choir take up the song, and go racing around\none after another, each singing a different set of words, till, at\nlength, by some inexplicable magic, they all come together again,\nand sail smoothly out into a rolling sea of song. I remember the\nwonder with which I used to look from side to side when treble,\ntenor, counter, and bass were thus roaring and foaming,--and it\nverily seemed to me as if the psalm was going to pieces among the\nbreakers,--and the delighted astonishment with which I found that\neach particular verse did emerge whole and uninjured from the storm.\n\nBut alas for the wonders of that old meeting-house, how they are\npassed away! Even the venerable building itself has been pulled\ndown, and its fragments scattered; yet still I retain enough of my\nchildish feelings to wonder whether any little boy was gratified\nby the possession of those painted tulips and grapevines, which my\nchildish eye used to covet, and about the obtaining of which, in\ncase the house should ever be pulled down, I devised so many schemes\nduring the long sermons and services of summer days. I have visited\nthe spot where it stood, but the modern, fair-looking building that\nstands in its room bears no trace of it; and of the various familiar\nfaces that used to be seen inside not one remains. Verily, I must be\ngrowing old; and as old people are apt to spin long stories, I check\nmyself, and lay down my pen.\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE EDWARD\n\n\nWere any of you born in New England, in the good old catechising,\nchurch-going, school-going, orderly times? If so, you may have\nseen my Uncle Abel; the most perpendicular, rectangular, upright,\ndownright good man that ever labored six days and rested on the\nseventh.\n\nYou remember his hard, weather-beaten countenance, where every line\nseemed drawn with \"a pen of iron and the point of a diamond;\" his\nconsiderate gray eyes, that moved over objects as if it were not\nbest to be in a hurry about seeing; the circumspect opening and\nshutting of the mouth; his down-sitting and up-rising, all performed\nwith conviction aforethought--in short, the whole ordering of his\nlife and conversation, which was, according to the tenor of the\nmilitary order, \"to the right about face--forward, march!\"\n\nNow, if you supposed, from all this triangularism of exterior, that\nthis good man had nothing kindly within, you were much mistaken.\nYou often find the greenest grass under a snowdrift; and though my\nuncle's mind was not exactly of the flower garden kind, still there\nwas an abundance of wholesome and kindly vegetation there.\n\nIt is true, he seldom laughed, and never joked himself; but no man\nhad a more serious and weighty conviction of what a good joke was\nin another; and when some exceeding witticism was dispensed in his\npresence, you might see Uncle Abel's face slowly relax into an\nexpression of solemn satisfaction, and he would look at the author\nwith a sort of quiet wonder, as if it was past his comprehension how\nsuch a thing could ever come into a man's head.\n\nUncle Abel, too, had some relish for the fine arts; in proof of\nwhich, I might adduce the pleasure with which he gazed at the plates\nin his family Bible, the likeness whereof is neither in heaven,\nnor on earth, nor under the earth. And he was also such an eminent\nmusician, that he could go through the singing-book at one sitting\nwithout the least fatigue, beating time like a windmill all the way.\n\nHe had, too, a liberal hand, though his liberality was all by the\nrule of three. He did by his neighbor exactly as he would be done\nby. He loved some things in this world very sincerely; he loved his\nGod much, but he honored and feared him more. He was exact with\nothers; he was more exact with himself, and he expected his God to\nbe more exact still.\n\nEverything in Uncle Abel's house was in the same time, place,\nmanner, and form, from year's end to year's end. There was old\nMaster Bose, a dog after my uncle's own heart, who always walked\nas if he was studying the multiplication table. There was the old\nclock, forever ticking in the kitchen corner, with a picture on\nits face of the sun, forever setting behind a perpendicular row of\npoplar-trees. There was the never failing supply of red peppers\nand onions hanging over the chimney. There, too, were the yearly\nhollyhocks and morning-glories blooming about the windows. There\nwas the \"best room,\" with its sanded floor, the cupboard in one\ncorner with its glass doors, the ever green asparagus bushes in\nthe chimney, and there was the stand with the Bible and almanac\non it in another corner. There, too, was Aunt Betsey, who never\nlooked any older, because she always looked as old as she could;\nwho always dried her catnip and wormwood the last of September, and\nbegan to clean house the first of May. In short, this was the land\nof continuance. Old Time never took it into his head to practice\neither addition, or subtraction, or multiplication on its sum total.\n\nThis Aunt Betsey aforenamed was the neatest and most efficient piece\nof human machinery that ever operated in forty places at once. She\nwas always everywhere, predominating over and seeing to everything;\nand though my uncle had been twice married, Aunt Betsey's rule and\nauthority had never been broken. She reigned over his wives when\nliving, and reigned after them when dead, and so seemed likely to\nreign on to the end of the chapter. But my uncle's latest wife\nleft Aunt Betsey a much less tractable subject than ever before\nhad fallen to her lot. Little Edward was the child of my uncle's\nold age, and a brighter, merrier little blossom never grew on the\nverge of an avalanche. He had been committed to the nursing of his\ngrandmamma till he had arrived at the age of _in_discretion, and\nthen my old uncle's heart so yearned for him that he was sent for to\ncome home.\n\nHis introduction into the family excited a terrible sensation.\nNever was there such a contemner of dignities, such a violator of\nhigh places and sanctities, as this very Master Edward. It was all\nin vain to try to teach him decorum. He was the most outrageously\nmerry elf that ever shook a head of curls, and it was all the same\nto him whether it was \"Sabba' day\" or any other day. He laughed\nand frolicked with everybody and everything that came in his way,\nnot even excepting his solemn old father; and when you saw him,\nwith his fair arms around the old man's neck, and his bright blue\neyes and blooming cheek peering out beside the bleak face of Uncle\nAbel, you might fancy you saw spring caressing winter. Uncle Abel's\nmetaphysics were sorely puzzled by this sparkling, dancing compound\nof spirit and matter; nor could he devise any method of bringing it\ninto any reasonable shape, for he did mischief with an energy and\nperseverance that was truly astonishing. Once he scoured the floor\nwith Aunt Betsey's very Scotch snuff; once he washed up the hearth\nwith Uncle Abel's most immaculate clothes-brush; and once he was\nfound trying to make Bose wear his father's spectacles. In short,\nthere was no use, except the right one, to which he did not put\neverything that came in his way.\n\nBut Uncle Abel was most of all puzzled to know what to do with\nhim on the Sabbath, for on that day Master Edward seemed to exert\nhimself to be particularly diligent and entertaining.\n\n\"Edward! Edward must not play Sunday!\" his father would call out;\nand then Edward would hold up his curly head, and look as grave as\nthe Catechism; but in three minutes you would see \"pussy\" scampering\nthrough the \"best room,\" with Edward at her heels, to the entire\ndiscomposure of all devotion in Aunt Betsey and all others in\nauthority.\n\nAt length my uncle came to the conclusion that \"it wasn't in natur'\nto teach him any better,\" and that \"he could no more keep Sunday\nthan the brook down in the lot.\" My poor uncle! he did not know\nwhat was the matter with his heart, but certain it was, he lost all\nfaculty of scolding when little Edward was in the case, and he would\nrub his spectacles a quarter of an hour longer than common when Aunt\nBetsey was detailing his witticisms and clever doings.\n\nIn process of time our hero had compassed his third year and arrived\nat the dignity of going to school. He went illustriously through the\nspelling-book, and then attacked the Catechism; went from \"man's\nchief end\" to the \"requirin's and forbiddin's\" in a fortnight, and\nat last came home inordinately merry, to tell his father that he had\ngot to \"Amen.\" After this, he made a regular business of saying over\nthe whole every Sunday evening, standing with his hands folded in\nfront and his checked apron folded down, occasionally glancing round\nto see if pussy gave proper attention. And, being of a practically\nbenevolent turn of mind, he made several commendable efforts to\nteach Bose the Catechism, in which he succeeded as well as might be\nexpected. In short, without further detail, Master Edward bade fair\nto become a literary wonder.\n\nBut alas for poor little Edward! his merry dance was soon over. A\nday came when he sickened. Aunt Betsey tried her whole herbarium,\nbut in vain: he grew rapidly worse and worse. His father sickened\nin heart, but said nothing; he only stayed by his bedside day and\nnight, trying all means to save, with affecting pertinacity.\n\n\"Can't you think of anything more, doctor?\" said he to the\nphysician, when all had been tried in vain.\n\n\"Nothing,\" answered the physician.\n\nA momentary convulsion passed over my uncle's face. \"The will of the\nLord be done,\" said he, almost with a groan of anguish.\n\nJust at that moment a ray of the setting sun pierced the checked\ncurtains, and gleamed like an angel's smile across the face of the\nlittle sufferer. He woke from troubled sleep.\n\n\"Oh, dear! I am so sick!\" he gasped feebly. His father raised him in\nhis arms; he breathed easier, and looked up with a grateful smile.\nJust then his old playmate, the cat, crossed the room. \"There goes\npussy,\" said he; \"oh, dear! I shall never play any more!\"\n\nAt that moment a deadly change passed over his face. He looked up\nin his father's face with an imploring expression, and put out his\nhand as if for help. There was one moment of agony, and then the\nsweet features all settled into a smile of peace, and \"mortality was\nswallowed up of life.\"\n\nMy uncle laid him down, and looked one moment at his beautiful\nface. It was too much for his principles, too much for his\nconsistency, and \"he lifted up his voice and wept.\"\n\nThe next morning was the Sabbath,--the funeral day,--and it rose\nwith \"breath all incense and with cheek all bloom.\" Uncle Abel\nwas as calm and collected as ever; but in his face there was a\nsorrow-stricken appearance touching to behold. I remember him at\nfamily prayers, as he bent over the great Bible and began the psalm,\n\"Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations.\"\nApparently he was touched by the melancholy splendor of the poetry,\nfor after reading a few verses he stopped. There was a dead silence,\ninterrupted only by the tick of the clock. He cleared his voice\nrepeatedly, and tried to go on, but in vain. He closed the book,\nand kneeled down to prayer. The energy of sorrow broke through his\nusual formal reverence, and his language flowed forth with a deep\nand sorrowful pathos which I shall never forget. The God so much\nreverenced, so much feared, seemed to draw near to him as a friend\nand comforter, his refuge and strength, \"a very present help in time\nof trouble.\"\n\nMy uncle rose, and I saw him walk to the room of the departed one.\nHe uncovered the face. It was set with the seal of death; but oh,\nhow surpassingly lovely! The brilliancy of life was gone, but that\npure, transparent face was touched with a mysterious, triumphant\nbrightness, which seemed like the dawning of heaven.\n\nMy uncle looked long and earnestly. He felt the beauty of what\nhe gazed on; his heart was softened, but he had no words for his\nfeelings. He left the room unconsciously, and stood in the front\ndoor. The morning was bright, the bells were ringing for church, the\nbirds were singing merrily, and the pet squirrel of little Edward\nwas frolicking about the door. My uncle watched him as he ran first\nup one tree, and then down and up another, and then over the fence,\nwhisking his brush and chattering just as if nothing was the matter.\n\nWith a deep sigh Uncle Abel broke forth, \"How happy that cretur' is!\nWell, the Lord's will be done.\"\n\nThat day the dust was committed to dust, amid the lamentations of\nall who had known little Edward. Years have passed since then, and\nall that is mortal of my uncle has long since been gathered to his\nfathers; but his just and upright spirit has entered the glorious\nliberty of the sons of God. Yes, the good man may have had opinions\nwhich the philosophical scorn, weaknesses at which the thoughtless\nsmile; but death shall change him into all that is enlightened,\nwise, and refined, for he shall awake in \"His\" likeness, and \"be\nsatisfied.\"\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSATION ON CONVERSATION\n\n     \"For every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give\n     account thereof in the day of judgment.\"\n\n\n\"A very solemn sermon,\" said Miss B., shaking her head impressively,\nas she sat down to table on Sunday noon; then giving a deep sigh,\nshe added, \"I am afraid that if an account is to be rendered for all\nour idle words, some people will have a great deal to answer for.\"\n\n\"Why, Cousin Anna,\" replied a sprightly young lady opposite, \"what\ndo you mean by _idle words_?\"\n\n\"All words that have not a strictly useful tendency, Helen,\" replied\nMiss B.\n\n\"I don't know what is to become of me, then,\" answered Helen, \"for I\nnever can think of anything useful to say. I sit and try sometimes,\nbut it always stops my talking. I don't think anything in the world\nis so doleful as a set of persons sitting round, all trying to say\nsomething useful, like a parcel of old clocks ticking at each other.\nI think one might as well take the vow of entire silence, like the\nmonks of La Trappe.\"\n\n\"It is probable,\" said Miss B., \"that a greater part of our ordinary\nconversation had better be dispensed with. 'In the multitude of\nwords there wanteth not sin.' For my own part, my conscience often\nreproaches me with the sins of my tongue.\"\n\n\"I'm sure you don't sin much that way, I must say,\" said Helen;\n\"but, cousin, I really think it is a freezing business sitting still\nand reflecting all the time when friends are together; and, after\nall, I can't bring myself to feel as if it were wrong to talk and\nchatter away a good part of the time, just for the sake of talking.\nFor instance, if a friend comes in of a morning to make a call, I\ntalk about the weather, my roses, my canary-birds, or anything that\ncomes uppermost.\"\n\n\"And about lace, and bonnet patterns, and the last fashions,\" added\nMiss B. sarcastically.\n\n\"Well, supposing we do; where's the harm?\"\n\n\"Where's the good?\" said Miss B.\n\n\"The good! why, it passes time agreeably, and makes us feel kindly\ntowards each other.\"\n\n\"I think, Helen,\" said Miss B., \"if you had a higher view of\nChristian responsibility, you would not be satisfied with merely\npassing time agreeably, or exciting agreeable feelings in others.\nDoes not the very text we are speaking of show that we have an\naccount to give in the day of judgment for all this trifling,\nuseless conversation?\"\n\n\"I don't know what that text does mean,\" replied Helen, looking\nseriously; \"but if it means as you say, I think it is a very hard,\nstrait rule.\"\n\n\"Well,\" replied Miss B., \"is not duty always hard and strait?\n'Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way,' you know.\"\n\nHelen sighed.\n\n\"What do you think of this, Uncle C.?\" she said, after some pause.\nThe uncle of the two young ladies had been listening thus far in\nsilence.\n\n\"I think,\" he replied, \"that before people begin to discuss, they\nshould be quite sure as to what they are talking about, and I am\nnot exactly clear in this case. You say, Anna,\" said he, turning to\nMiss B., \"that all conversation is idle which has not a directly\nuseful tendency. Now, what do you mean by that? Are we never to say\nanything that has not for its direct and specific object the benefit\nof others or of ourselves?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Miss B., \"I suppose not.\"\n\n\"Well, then, when I say, 'Good-morning, sir; 'tis a pleasant day,' I\nhave no such object. Are these, then, idle words?\"\n\n\"Why, no, not exactly,\" replied Miss B.; \"in some cases it is\nnecessary to say something, so as not to appear rude.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" replied her uncle. \"You admit, then, that some things,\nwhich are not instructive in themselves considered, are to be said\nto keep up the intercourse of society?\"\n\n\"Certainly; some things,\" said Miss B.\n\n\"Well, now, in the case mentioned by Helen, when two or three people\nwith whom you are in different degrees of intimacy call upon you, I\nthink she is perfectly right, as she said, in talking of roses, and\ncanary-birds, and even of bonnet patterns, and lace, or anything\nof the kind, for the sake of making conversation. It amounts to\nthe same thing as 'good-morning,' and 'good-evening,' and the\nother courtesies of society. This sort of small talk has nothing\ninstructive in it, and yet it may be useful in its place. It makes\npeople comfortable and easy, promotes kind and social feelings; and\nmaking people comfortable by any innocent means is certainly not a\nthing to be despised.\"\n\n\"But is there not great danger of becoming light and trifling if one\nallows this?\" said Miss B. doubtfully.\n\n\"To be sure; there is always danger of running every innocent thing\nto excess. One might eat to excess, or drink to excess; yet eating\nand drinking are both useful in their way. Now, our lively young\nfriend Helen, here, might perhaps be in some temptation of this\nsort; but as for you, Anna, I think you in more danger of another\nextreme.\"\n\n\"And what is that?\"\n\n\"Of overstraining your mind by endeavoring to keep up a constant,\nfixed state of seriousness and solemnity, and not allowing yourself\nthe relaxation necessary to preserve its healthy tone. In order to\nbe healthy, every mind must have variety and amusement; and if you\nwould sit down at least one hour a day, and join your friends in\nsome amusing conversation, and indulge in a good laugh, I think,\nmy dear, that you would not only be a happier person, but a better\nChristian.\"\n\n\"My dear uncle,\" said Miss B., \"this is the very thing that I have\nbeen most on my guard against; I can never tell stories, or laugh\nand joke, without feeling condemned for it afterwards.\"\n\n\"But, my dear, you must do the thing in the testimony of a good\nconscience before you can do it to any purpose. You must make up\nyour mind that cheerful and entertaining conversation--conversation\nwhose first object is to amuse--is useful conversation in its place,\nand then your conscience will not be injured by joining in it.\"\n\n\"But what good does it do, uncle?\"\n\n\"Do you not often complain of coldness and deadness in your\nreligious feelings? of lifelessness and want of interest?\"\n\n\"Yes, uncle.\"\n\n\"Well, this coldness and lifelessness is the result of forcing your\nmind to one set of thoughts and feelings. You become worn out--your\nfeelings exhausted--deadness and depression ensue. Now, turn your\nmind off from these subjects--divert it by a cheerful and animated\nconversation, and you will find, after a while, that it will return\nto them with new life and energy.\"\n\n\"But are not foolish talking and jesting expressly forbidden?\"\n\n\"That text, if you will look at the connections, does not forbid\njesting in the abstract; but jesting on immodest subjects--which\nare often designated in the New Testament by the phraseology there\nemployed. I should give the sense of it--neither filthiness, nor\nfoolish talking, nor indelicate jests. The kind of sprightly and\namusing conversation to which I referred, I should not denominate\nfoolish, by any means, at proper times and places.\"\n\n\"Yet people often speak of gayety as inconsistent in\nChristians--even worldly people,\" said Miss B.\n\n\"Yes, because, in the first place, they often have wrong ideas as to\nwhat Christianity requires in this respect, and suppose Christians\nto be violating their own principles in indulging in it. In the\nsecond place, there are some, especially among young people, who\nnever talk in any other way--with whom this kind of conversation\nis not an amusement, but a habit--giving the impression that they\nnever think seriously at all. But I think, that if persons are\nreally possessed by the tender, affectionate, benevolent spirit\nof Christianity--if they regulate their temper and their tongue\nby it, and in all their actions show an evident effort to conform\nto its precepts; they will not do harm by occasionally indulging\nin sprightly and amusing conversation--they will not make the\nimpression that they are not sincerely Christians.\"\n\n\"Besides,\" said Helen, \"are not people sometimes repelled from\nreligion by a want of cheerfulness in its professors?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" replied her uncle, \"and the difference is just this:\nif persons are habitually trifling and thoughtless, it is thought\nthat they have _no_ religion; if they are ascetic and gloomy it\nis attributed to their religion; and you know what Miss E. Smith\nsays--that 'to be good and disagreeable is high treason against\nvirtue.' The more sincerely and earnestly religious a person is, the\nmore important it is that he should be agreeable.\"\n\n\"But, uncle,\" said Helen, \"what does that text mean that we began\nwith? What are idle words?\"\n\n\"My dear, if you will turn to the place where the passage is\n(Matt. xii.) and read the whole page, you will see the meaning of\nit. Christ was not reproving anybody for trifling conversation at\nthe time; but for a very serious slander. The Pharisees, in their\nbitterness, accused him of being in league with evil spirits. It\nseems, by what follows, that this was a charge which involved\nan unpardonable sin. They were not, indeed, conscious of its\nfull guilt,--they said it merely from the impulse of excited and\nenvious feeling,--but he warns them that in the day of judgment God\nwill hold them accountable for the full consequences of all such\nlanguage, however little they may have thought of it at the time of\nuttering it. The sense of the passage I take to be, 'God will hold\nyou responsible in the day of judgment for the consequences of all\nyou have said in your most idle and thoughtless moments.'\"\n\n\"For example,\" said Helen, \"if one makes unguarded and unfounded\nassertions about the Bible, which excite doubt and prejudice.\"\n\n\"There are many instances,\" said her uncle, \"that are quite in\npoint. Suppose in conversation, either under the influence of envy\nor ill will, or merely from love of talking, you make remarks and\nstatements about another person which may be true or may not,--you\ndo not stop to inquire,--your unguarded words set reports in\nmotion, and unhappiness, and hard feeling, and loss of character\nare the result. You spoke idly, it is true, but nevertheless you\nare held responsible by God for all the consequences of your words.\nSo professors of religion often make unguarded remarks about each\nother, which lead observers to doubt the truth of all religion;\nand they are responsible for every such doubt they excite. Parents\nand guardians often allow themselves to speak of the faults and\nweaknesses of their ministers in the presence of children and\nyounger people--they do it thoughtlessly--but in so doing they\ndestroy an influence which might otherwise have saved the souls of\ntheir children; they are responsible for it. People of cultivated\nminds and fastidious taste often allow themselves to come home from\nchurch, and criticise a sermon, and unfold all its weak points in\nthe presence of others on whom it may have made a very serious\nimpression. While the critic is holding up the bad arrangement, and\nsetting in a ludicrous point of view the lame figures, perhaps the\nservant behind his chair, who was almost persuaded to be a Christian\nby that very discourse, gives up his purposes, in losing his respect\nfor the sermon; this was thoughtless--but the evil is done, and the\nman who did it is responsible for it.\"\n\n\"I think,\" said Helen, \"that a great deal of evil is done to\nchildren in this way, by our not thinking of what we are saying.\"\n\n\"It seems to me,\" said Miss B., \"that this view of the subject will\nreduce us to silence almost as much as the other. How is one ever to\nestimate the consequences of their words?--people are affected in so\nmany different ways by the same thing.\"\n\n\"I suppose,\" said her uncle, \"we are only responsible for such\nresults as by carefulness and reflection we might have foreseen.\nIt is not for ill-judged words, but for idle words, that we are\nto be judged--words uttered without any consideration at all, and\nproducing bad results. If a person really anxious to do right\nmisjudges as to the probable effect of what he is about to say on\nothers, it is quite another thing.\"\n\n\"But, uncle, will not such carefulness destroy all freedom in\nconversation?\" said Helen.\n\n\"If you are talking with a beloved friend, Helen, do you not use an\ninstinctive care to avoid all that might pain that friend?\"\n\n\"Certainly.\"\n\n\"And do you find this effort a restraint on your enjoyment?\"\n\n\"Certainly not.\"\n\n\"And you, from your own feelings, avoid what is indelicate and\nimpure in conversation, and yet feel it no restraint?\"\n\n\"Certainly.\"\n\n\"Well, I suppose the object of Christian effort should be so to\nrealize the character of our Saviour, and conform our tastes and\nsympathies to his, that we shall instinctively avoid all in our\nconversation that would be displeasing to him. A person habitually\nindulging jealous, angry, or revengeful feeling, a person habitually\nworldly in his spirit, a person allowing himself in skeptical and\nunsettled habits of thought, _cannot_ talk without doing harm. This\nis our Saviour's account of the matter in the verses immediately\nbefore the passage we were speaking of--'How _can_ ye, being\nevil, speak good things? for out of the abundance of the heart\nthe mouth speaketh. A good man out of the good treasure of his\nheart bringeth forth good things, and an evil man out of the evil\ntreasure of his heart bringeth forth evil things.' The highest flow\nof animal spirits would never hurry a pure-minded person to say\nanything indelicate or gross; and in the same manner, if a person\nis habitually Christian in all his habits of thought and feeling,\nhe will be able without irksome watchfulness to avoid what may be\ninjurious even in the most unrestrained conversation.\"\n\n\n\n\nHOW DO WE KNOW\n\n\nIt was a splendid room. Rich curtains swept down to the floor in\ngraceful folds, half excluding the light, and shedding it in soft\nhues over the fine old paintings on the walls, and over the broad\nmirrors that reflect all that taste can accomplish by the hand of\nwealth. Books, the rarest and most costly, were around, in every\nform of gorgeous binding and gilding, and among them, glittering\nin ornament, lay a magnificent Bible--a Bible too beautiful in its\nappointments, too showy, too ornamental, ever to have been meant to\nbe read--a Bible which every visitor should take up and exclaim,\n\"What a beautiful edition! what superb bindings!\" and then lay it\ndown again.\n\nAnd the master of the house was lounging on a sofa, looking over a\nlate review--for he was a man of leisure, taste, and reading--but,\nthen, as to reading the Bible!--that forms, we suppose, no part\nof the pretensions of a man of letters. The Bible--certainly he\nconsidered it a very respectable book--a fine specimen of ancient\nliterature--an admirable book of moral precepts; but, then, as\nto its divine origin, he had not exactly made up his mind: some\nparts appeared strange and inconsistent to his reason--others\nwere revolting to his taste: true, he had never studied it very\nattentively, yet such was his general impression about it; but, on\nthe whole, he thought it well enough to keep an elegant copy of it\non his drawing-room table.\n\nSo much for one picture. Now for another.\n\nCome with us into this little dark alley, and up a flight of\nruinous stairs. It is a bitter night, and the wind and snow might\ndrive through the crevices of the poor room, were it not that\ncareful hands have stopped them with paper or cloth. But for all\nthis carefulness, the room is bitter cold--cold even with those\nfew decaying brands on the hearth, which that sorrowful woman is\ntrying to kindle with her breath. Do you see that pale, little,\nthin girl, with large, bright eyes, who is crouching so near her\nmother?--hark!--how she coughs. Now listen.\n\n\"Mary, my dear child,\" says the mother, \"do keep that shawl close\nabout you; you are cold, I know,\" and the woman shivers as she\nspeaks.\n\n\"No, mother, not very,\" replies the child, again relapsing into that\nhollow, ominous cough. \"I wish you wouldn't make me always wear your\nshawl when it is cold, mother.\"\n\n\"Dear child, you need it most. How you cough to-night!\" replies\nthe mother; \"it really don't seem right for me to send you up that\nlong, cold street; now your shoes have grown so poor, too; I must go\nmyself after this.\"\n\n\"Oh, mother, you must stay with the baby--what if he should have one\nof those dreadful fits while you are gone! No, I can go very well; I\nhave got used to the cold now.\"\n\n\"But, mother, I'm cold,\" says a little voice from the scanty bed in\nthe corner; \"mayn't I get up and come to the fire?\"\n\n\"Dear child, it would not warm you; it is very cold here, and I\ncan't make any more fire to-night.\"\n\n\"Why can't you, mother? There are four whole sticks of wood in the\nbox; do put one on, and let's get warm once.\"\n\n\"No, my dear little Henry,\" says the mother soothingly, \"that is all\nthe wood mother has, and I haven't any money to get more.\"\n\nAnd now wakens the sick baby in the cradle, and mother and daughter\nare both for some time busy in attempting to supply its little\nwants, and lulling it again to sleep.\n\nAnd now look you well at that mother. Six months ago she had a\nhusband, whose earnings procured for her both the necessaries and\ncomforts of life; her children were clothed, fed, and schooled,\nwithout thoughts of hers. But husbandless, friendless, and alone in\nthe heart of a great, busy city, with feeble health, and only the\nprecarious resource of her needle, she has gone down from comfort\nto extreme poverty. Look at her now, as she is to-night. She knows\nfull well that the pale, bright-eyed girl, whose hollow cough\nconstantly rings in her ears, is far from well. She knows that cold,\nand hunger, and exposure of every kind, are daily and surely wearing\naway her life. And yet what can she do? Poor soul! how many times\nhas she calculated all her little resources, to see if she could\npay a doctor and get medicine for Mary--yet all in vain. She knows\nthat timely medicine, ease, fresh air, and warmth might save her;\nbut she knows that all these things are out of the question for\nher. She feels, too, as a mother would feel, when she sees her once\nrosy, happy little boy becoming pale, and anxious, and fretful; and\neven when he teases her most, she only stops her work a moment, and\nstrokes his little thin cheeks, and thinks what a laughing, happy\nlittle fellow he once was, till she has not a heart to reprove him.\nAnd all this day she has toiled with a sick and fretful baby in her\nlap, and her little shivering, hungry boy at her side, whom Mary's\npatient artifices cannot always keep quiet; she has toiled over the\nlast piece of work which she can procure from the shop, for the man\nhas told her that after this he can furnish no more; and the little\nmoney that is to come from this is already portioned out in her own\nmind, and after that she has no human prospect of support.\n\nBut yet that woman's face is patient, quiet, firm. Nay, you may even\nsee in her suffering eye something like peace. And whence comes it?\nI will tell you.\n\nThere is a Bible in that room, as well as in the rich man's\napartment. Not splendidly bound, to be sure, but faithfully read--a\nplain, homely, much worn book.\n\nHearken now while she says to her children, \"Listen to me, dear\nchildren, and I will read you something out of this book. 'Let not\nyour heart be troubled; in my Father's house are many mansions.' So\nyou see, my children, we shall not always live in this little, cold,\ndark room. Jesus Christ has promised to take us to a better home.\"\n\n\"Shall we be warm there all day?\" says the little boy earnestly;\n\"and shall we have enough to eat?\"\n\n\"Yes, dear child,\" says the mother; \"listen to what the Bible says:\n'They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; for the Lamb\nwhich is in the midst of the throne shall feed them; and God shall\nwipe away all tears from their eyes.'\"\n\n\"I am glad of that,\" said little Mary, \"for, mother, I never can\nbear to see you cry.\"\n\n\"But, mother,\" says little Henry, \"won't God send us something to\neat to-morrow?\"\n\n\"See,\" says the mother, \"what the Bible says: 'Seek ye not what ye\nshall eat, nor what ye shall drink, neither be of anxious mind. For\nyour Father knoweth that ye have need of these things.'\"\n\n\"But, mother,\" says little Mary, \"if God is our Father, and loves\nus, what does he let us be so poor for?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" says the mother, \"our dear Lord Jesus Christ was as poor as\nwe are, and God certainly loved him.\"\n\n\"Was he, mother?\"\n\n\"Yes, children; you remember how he said, 'The Son of man hath not\nwhere to lay his head.' And it tells us more than once that Jesus\nwas hungry when there was none to give him food.\"\n\n\"Oh, mother, what should we do without the Bible?\" says Mary.\n\nNow, if the rich man, who had not yet made up his mind what to\nthink of the Bible, should visit this poor woman, and ask her on\nwhat she grounded her belief of its truth, what could she answer?\nCould she give the arguments from miracles and prophecy? Could she\naccount for all the changes which might have taken place in it\nthrough translators and copyists, and prove that we have a genuine\nand uncorrupted version? Not she! But how, then, does she know\nthat it is true? How, say you? How does she know that she has warm\nlife-blood in her heart? How does she know that there is such a\nthing as air and sunshine? She does not believe these things--she\nknows them; and in like manner, with a deep heart consciousness, she\nis certain that the words of her Bible are truth and life. Is it by\nreasoning that the frightened child, bewildered in the dark, knows\nits mother's voice? No! Nor is it only by reasoning that the forlorn\nand distressed human heart knows the voice of its Saviour, and is\nstill.\n\n\n\n\nHOW TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH MAMMON\n\n\nIt was four o'clock in the afternoon of a dull winter day that Mr.\nH. sat in his counting-room. The sun had nearly gone down, and,\nin fact, it was already twilight beneath the shadows of the tall,\ndusky stores, and the close, crooked streets of that quarter of\nBoston. Hardly light enough struggled through the dusky panes of\nthe counting-house for him to read the entries in a much-thumbed\nmemorandum-book, which he held in his hand.\n\nA small, thin boy, with a pale face and anxious expression,\nsignificant of delicacy of constitution and a too early acquaintance\nwith want and sorrow, was standing by him, earnestly watching his\nmotions.\n\n\"Ah, yes, my boy,\" said Mr. H., as he at last shut up the\nmemorandum-book. \"Yes, I've got the place now; I'm apt to be\nforgetful about these things; come, now, let's go. How is it?\nHaven't you brought the basket?\"\n\n\"No, sir,\" said the boy timidly. \"The grocer said he'd let mother\nhave a quarter for it, and she thought she'd sell it.\"\n\n\"That's bad,\" said Mr. H., as he went on, tying his throat with a\nlong comforter of some yards in extent; and as he continued this\noperation he abstractedly repeated, \"That's bad, that's bad,\" till\nthe poor little boy looked quite dismayed, and began to think that\nsomehow his mother had been dreadfully out of the way.\n\n\"She didn't want to send for help so long as she had anything she\ncould sell,\" said the little boy in a deprecating tone.\n\n\"Oh yes, quite right,\" said Mr. H., taking from a pigeonhole in the\ndesk a large pocketbook, and beginning to turn it over; and, as\nbefore, abstractedly repeating, \"Quite right, quite right!\" till the\nlittle boy became reassured, and began to think, although he didn't\nknow why, that his mother had done something quite meritorious.\n\n\"Well,\" said Mr. H., after he had taken several bills from the\npocketbook and transferred them to a wallet which he put into his\npocket, \"now we're ready, my boy.\" But first he stopped to lock up\nhis desk, and then he said abstractedly to himself, \"I wonder if I\nhadn't better take a few tracts.\" Now, it is to be confessed that\nthis Mr. H., whom we have introduced to our reader, was, in his way,\nquite an oddity. He had a number of singular little _penchants_ and\npeculiarities quite his own, such as a passion for poking about\namong dark alleys, at all sorts of seasonable and unseasonable\nhours; fishing out troops of dirty, neglected children, and fussing\nabout generally in the community till he could get them into schools\nor otherwise provided for. He always had in his pocketbook a note\nof some dozen poor widows who wanted tea, sugar, candles, or other\nthings such as poor widows always will be wanting. And then he had\na most extraordinary talent for finding out all the sick strangers\nthat lay in out-of-the-way upper rooms in hotels, who, everybody\nknows, have no business to get sick in such places, unless they have\nmoney enough to pay their expenses, which they never do.\n\nBesides this, all Mr. H.'s kinsmen and cousins, to the third,\nfourth, and fortieth remove, were always writing him letters, which,\namong other pleasing items, generally contained the intelligence\nthat a few hundred dollars were just then exceedingly necessary to\nsave them from utter ruin, and they knew of nobody else to whom to\nlook for it.\n\nAnd then Mr. H. was up to his throat in subscriptions to every\ncharitable society that ever was made or imagined; had a hand in\nbuilding all the churches within a hundred miles; occasionally gave\nfour or five thousand dollars to a college; offered to be one of six\nto raise ten thousand dollars for some benevolent purpose, and when\nfour of the six backed out, quietly paid the balance himself, and\nsaid no more about it. Another of his innocent fancies was to keep\nalways about him any quantity of tracts and good books, little and\nbig, for children and grown-up people, which he generally diffused\nin a kind of gentle shower about him wherever he moved.\n\nSo great was his monomania for benevolence that it could not at\nall confine itself to the streets of Boston, the circle of his\nrelatives, or even the United States of America. Mr. H. was fully\nposted up in the affairs of India, Burmah, China, and all those\nodd, out-of-the-way places, which no sensible man ever thinks of\nwith any interest, unless he can make some money there; and money,\nit is to be confessed, Mr. H. didn't make there, though he spent an\nabundance. For getting up printing-presses in Ceylon for Chinese\ntype, for boxes of clothing and what-not to be sent to the Sandwich\nIslands, for schoolbooks for the Greeks, and all other nonsense of\nthat sort, Mr. H. was without a parallel. No wonder his rich brother\nmerchants sometimes thought him something of a bore, since, his\nheart being full of all these matters, he was rather apt to talk\nabout them, and sometimes to endeavor to draw them into fellowship,\nto an extent that was not to be thought of.\n\nSo it came to pass often, that though Mr. H. was a thriving\nbusiness man, with some ten thousand a year, he often wore a pretty\nthreadbare coat, the seams whereof would be trimmed with lines of\nwhite; and he would sometimes need several pretty plain hints on the\nsubject of a new hat before he would think he could afford one.\nNow, it is to be confessed the world is not always grateful to those\nwho thus devote themselves to its interests; and Mr. H. had as much\noccasion to know this as any other man. People got so used to his\ngiving, that his bounty became as common and as necessary as that of\na higher Benefactor, \"who maketh his sun to rise upon the evil and\nthe good, and sendeth rain upon the just and the unjust;\" and so it\ncame to pass that people took them, as they do the sunshine and the\nrain, quite as matters of course, not thinking much about them when\nthey came, but particularly apt to scold when they did not come.\n\nBut Mr. H. never cared for that. He did not give for gratitude;\nhe did not give for thanks, nor to have his name published in the\npapers as one of six who had given fifty thousand to do so and so;\nbut he gave because it was in him to give, and we all know that it\nis an old rule in medicine, as well as morals, that what is in a\nman must be brought out. Then, again, he had heard it reported that\nthere had been One of distinguished authority who had expressed the\nopinion that it was \"more blessed to give than to receive,\" and he\nvery much believed it--believed it because the One who said it must\nhave known, since for man's sake he once gave away _all_.\n\nAnd so, when some thriftless, distant relation, whose debts he had\npaid a dozen times over, gave him an overhauling on the subject\nof liberality, and seemed inclined to take him by the throat for\nfurther charity, he calmed himself down by a chapter or two from\nthe New Testament and half a dozen hymns, and then sent him a\ngood, brotherly letter of admonition and counsel, with a bank-note\nto enforce it; and when some querulous old woman, who had had a\ntenement of him rent free for three or four years, sent him word\nthat if he didn't send and mend the water-pipes she would move right\nout, he sent and mended them. People said that he was foolish, and\nthat it didn't do any good to do for ungrateful people; but Mr. H.\nknew that it did _him_ good. He loved to do it, and he thought also\non some words that ran to this effect: \"Do good and lend, hoping\nfor nothing again.\" He literally hoped for nothing again in the way\nof reward, either in this world or in heaven, beyond the present\npleasure of the deed; for he had abundant occasion to see how favors\nare forgotten in this world; and as for another, he had in his own\nsoul a standard of benevolence so high, so pure, so ethereal, that\nbut One of mortal birth ever reached it. He felt that, do what he\nmight, he fell ever so far below the life of that spotless One--that\nhis crown in heaven must come to him at last, not as a reward, but\nas a free, eternal gift.\n\nBut all this while our friend and his little companion have been\npattering along the wet streets, in the rain and sleet of a bitter\ncold evening, till they stopped before a grocery. Here a large\ncross-handled basket was first bought, and then filled with sundry\npackages of tea, sugar, candles, soap, starch, and various other\nmatters; a barrel of flour was ordered to be sent after him on a\ndray. Mr. H. next stopped at a dry goods store and bought a pair of\nblankets, with which he loaded down the boy, who was happy enough to\nbe so loaded; and then, turning gradually from the more frequented\nstreets, the two were soon lost to view in one of the dimmest alleys\nof the city.\n\nThe cheerful fire was blazing in his parlor, as, returned from his\nlong, wet walk, he was sitting by it with his feet comfortably\nincased in slippers. The astral lamp was burning brightly on the\ncentre-table, and a group of children were around it, studying their\nlessons.\n\n\"Papa,\" said a little boy, \"what does this verse mean? It's in my\nSunday-school lesson. 'Make to yourselves friends of the mammon\nof unrighteousness, that when ye fail, they may receive you into\neverlasting habitations.'\"\n\n\"You ought to have asked your teacher, my son.\"\n\n\"But he said he didn't know exactly what it meant. He wanted me to\nlook this week and see if I could find out.\"\n\nMr. H.'s standing resource in all exegetical difficulties was Dr.\nScott's Family Bible. Therefore he now got up, and putting on his\nspectacles, walked to the glass bookcase, and took down a volume\nof that worthy commentator, and opening it, read aloud the whole\nexposition of the passage, together with the practical reflections\nupon it; and by the time he had done, he found his young auditor\nfast asleep in his chair.\n\n\"Mother,\" said he, \"this child plays too hard. He can't keep his\neyes open evenings. It's time he was in bed.\"\n\n\"I wasn't asleep, pa,\" said Master Henry, starting up with that air\nof injured innocence with which gentlemen of his age generally treat\nan imputation of this kind.\n\n\"Then can you tell me now what the passage means that I have been\nreading to you?\"\n\n\"There's so much of it,\" said Henry hopelessly, \"I wish you'd just\ntell me in short order, father.\"\n\n\"Oh, read it for yourself,\" said Mr. H., as he pushed the book\ntowards the boy, for it was to be confessed that he perceived at\nthis moment that he had not himself received any particularly\nluminous impression, though of course he thought it was owing to his\nown want of comprehension.\n\nMr. H. leaned back in his rocking-chair, and on his own private\naccount began to speculate a little as to what he really should\nthink the verse might mean, supposing he were at all competent\nto decide upon it. \"'Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of\nunrighteousness,'\" says he: \"that's money, very clearly. How am\nI to make friends with it or of it? Receive me into everlasting\nhabitations: that's a singular kind of expression. I wonder what it\nmeans. Dr. Scott makes some very good remarks about it--but somehow\nI'm not exactly clear.\" It must be remarked that this was not an\nuncommon result of Mr. H.'s critical investigations in this quarter.\n\nWell, thoughts will wander; and as he lay with his head on the back\nof his rocking-chair, and his eyes fixed on the flickering blaze of\nthe coal, visions of his wet tramp in the city, and of the lonely\ngarret he had been visiting, and of the poor woman with the pale,\ndiscouraged face, to whom he had carried warmth and comfort, all\nblended themselves together. He felt, too, a little indefinite\ncreeping chill, and some uneasy sensations in his head like a\ncommencing cold, for he was not a strong man, and it is probable his\nlong, wet walk was likely to cause him some inconvenience in this\nway. At last he was fast asleep, nodding in his chair.\n\nHe dreamed that he was very sick in bed, that the doctor came and\nwent, and that he grew sicker and sicker. He was going to die. He\nsaw his wife sitting weeping by his pillow--his children standing\nby with pale and frightened faces; all things in his room began to\nswim, and waver, and fade, and voices that called his name, and sobs\nand lamentations that rose around him, seemed far off and distant\nin his ear. \"Oh, eternity, eternity! I am going--I am going,\" he\nthought; and in that hour, strange to tell, not one of all his good\ndeeds seemed good enough to lean on--all bore some taint or tinge,\nto his purified eye, of mortal selfishness, and seemed unholy before\nthe All Pure. \"I am going,\" he thought; \"there is no time to stay,\nno time to alter, to balance accounts; and I know not what I am, but\nI know, O Jesus, what thou art. I have trusted in thee, and shall\nnever be confounded;\" and with that last breath of prayer earth was\npast.\n\nA soft and solemn breathing, as of music, awakened him. As an infant\nchild not yet fully awake hears the holy warblings of his mother's\nhymn, and smiles half conscious, so the heaven-born became aware of\nsweet voices and loving faces around him ere yet he fully woke to\nthe new immortal Life.\n\n\"Ah, he has come at last. How long we have waited for him! Here he\nis among us. Now forever welcome! welcome!\" said the voices.\n\nWho shall speak the joy of that latest birth, the birth from death\nto life! the sweet, calm, inbreathing consciousness of purity and\nrest, the certainty that all sin, all weakness and error, are at\nlast gone forever; the deep, immortal rapture of repose--felt to be\nbut begun--never to end!\n\nSo the eyes of the heaven-born opened on the new heaven and the\nnew earth, and wondered at the crowd of loving faces that thronged\nabout him. Fair, godlike forms of beauty, such as earth never knew,\npressed round him with blessings, thanks, and welcome.\n\nThe man spoke not, but he wondered in his heart who they were, and\nwhence it came that they knew him; and as soon as the inquiry formed\nitself in his soul, it was read at once by his heavenly friends.\n\"I,\" said one bright spirit, \"was a poor boy whom you found in the\nstreets: you sought me out, you sent me to school, you watched over\nme, and led me to the house of God; and now here I am.\" \"And we,\"\nsaid other voices, \"are other neglected children whom you redeemed;\nwe also thank you.\" \"And I,\" said another, \"was a lost, helpless\ngirl: sold to sin and shame, nobody thought I could be saved;\neverybody passed me by till you came. You built a home, a refuge\nfor such poor wretches as I, and there I and many like me heard of\nJesus; and here we are.\" \"And I,\" said another, \"was once a clerk\nin your store. I came to the city innocent, but I was betrayed by\nthe tempter. I forgot my mother, and my mother's God. I went to the\ngaming-table and the theatre, and at last I robbed your drawer. You\nmight have justly cast me off; but you bore with me, you watched\nover me, you saved me. I am here through you this day.\" \"And I,\"\nsaid another, \"was a poor slave girl--doomed to be sold on the\nauction-block to a life of infamy, and the ruin of soul and body.\nHad you not been willing to give so largely for my ransom, no one\nhad thought to buy me. You stimulated others to give, and I was\nredeemed. I lived a Christian mother to bring my children up for\nChrist--they are all here with me to bless you this day, and their\nchildren on earth, and their children's children are growing up to\nbless you.\" \"And I,\" said another, \"was an unbeliever. In the pride\nof my intellect, I thought I could demonstrate the absurdity of\nChristianity. I thought I could answer the argument from miracles\nand prophecy; but your patient, self-denying life was an argument\nI never could answer. When I saw you spending all your time and\nall your money in efforts for your fellow men, undiscouraged by\ningratitude, and careless of praise, then I thought, 'There is\nsomething divine in that man's life,' and that thought brought me\nhere.\"\n\nThe man looked around on the gathering congregation, and he saw\nthat there was no one whom he had drawn heavenward that had not\nalso drawn thither myriads of others. In his lifetime he had\nbeen scattering seeds of good around from hour to hour, almost\nunconsciously; and now he saw every seed springing up into a\nwidening forest of immortal beauty and glory. It seemed to him that\nthere was to be no end of the numbers that flocked to claim him as\ntheir long-expected soul friend. His heart was full, and his face\nbecame as that of an angel as he looked up to One who seemed nearer\nthan all, and said, \"This is thy love for me, unworthy, O Jesus. Of\nthee, and to thee, and through thee are all things. Amen.\"\n\nAmen! as with chorus of many waters and mighty thunderings the sound\nswept onward, and died far off in chiming echoes among the distant\nstars, and the man awoke.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SABBATH\n\nSKETCHES FROM A NOTE-BOOK OF AN ELDERLY GENTLEMAN\n\n\nThe Puritan Sabbath--is there such a thing existing now, or has it\ngone with the things that were, to be looked at as a curiosity in\nthe museum of the past? Can any one, in memory, take himself back\nto the unbroken stillness of that day, and recall the sense of\nreligious awe which seemed to brood in the very atmosphere, checking\nthe merry laugh of childhood, and chaining in unwonted stillness\nthe tongue of volatile youth, and imparting even to the sunshine\nof heaven, and the unconscious notes of animals, a tone of its own\ngravity and repose? If you cannot remember these things, go back\nwith me to the verge of early boyhood, and live with me one of the\nSabbaths that I have spent beneath the roof of my uncle, Phineas\nFletcher.\n\nImagine the long sunny hours of a Saturday afternoon insensibly\nslipping away, as we youngsters are exploring the length and breadth\nof a trout stream, or chasing gray squirrels, or building mud\nmilldams in the brook. The sun sinks lower and lower, but we still\nthink it does not want half an hour to sundown. At last, he so\nevidently is really going down, that there is no room for skepticism\nor latitude of opinion on the subject; and with many a lingering\nregret, we began to put away our fish-hooks, and hang our hoops over\nour arm, preparatory to trudging homeward.\n\n\"Oh, Henry, don't you wish that Saturday afternoons lasted longer?\"\nsaid little John to me.\n\n\"I do,\" says Cousin Bill, who was never the boy to mince matters in\ngiving his sentiments; \"and I wouldn't care if Sunday didn't come\nbut once a year.\"\n\n\"Oh, Bill, that's wicked, I'm afraid,\" says little conscientious\nSusan, who, with her doll in hand, was coming home from a Saturday\nafternoon visit.\n\n\"Can't help it,\" says Bill, catching Susan's bag, and tossing it\nin the air; \"I never did like to sit still, and that's why I hate\nSundays.\"\n\n\"Hate Sundays! Oh, Bill! Why, Aunt Kezzy says heaven is an eternal\nSabbath--only think of that!\"\n\n\"Well, I know I must be pretty different from what I am now before\nI could sit still forever,\" said Bill in a lower and somewhat\ndisconcerted tone, as if admitting the force of the consideration.\n\nThe rest of us began to look very grave, and to think that we must\nget to liking Sunday some time or other, or it would be a very\nbad thing for us. As we drew near the dwelling, the compact and\nbusinesslike form of Aunt Kezzy was seen emerging from the house to\nhasten our approach.\n\n\"How often have I told you, young ones, not to stay out after\nsundown on Saturday night? Don't you know it's the same as Sunday,\nyou wicked children, you? Come right into the house, every one of\nyou, and never let me hear of such a thing again.\"\n\nThis was Aunt Kezzy's regular exordium every Saturday night; for\nwe children, being blinded, as she supposed, by natural depravity,\nalways made strange mistakes in reckoning time on Saturday\nafternoons. After being duly suppered and scrubbed, we were enjoined\nto go to bed, and remember that to-morrow was Sunday, and that we\nmust not laugh and play in the morning. With many a sorrowful look\ndid Susan deposit her doll in the chest, and give one lingering\nglance at the patchwork she was piecing for dolly's bed, while\nWilliam, John, and myself emptied our pockets of all superfluous\nfish-hooks, bits of twine, popguns, slices of potato, marbles,\nand all the various items of boy property, which, to keep us from\ntemptation, were taken into Aunt Kezzy's safe-keeping over Sunday.\n\nMy Uncle Phineas was a man of great exactness, and Sunday was the\ncentre of his whole worldly and religious system. Everything with\nregard to his worldly business was so arranged that by Saturday noon\nit seemed to come to a close of itself. All his accounts were looked\nover, his workmen paid, all borrowed things returned, and lent\nthings sent after, and every tool and article belonging to the farm\nwas returned to its own place at exactly such an hour every Saturday\nafternoon, and an hour before sundown every item of preparation,\neven to the blacking of his Sunday shoes and the brushing of his\nSunday coat, was entirely concluded; and at the going down of the\nsun, the stillness of the Sabbath seemed to settle down over the\nwhole dwelling.\n\nAnd now it is Sunday morning; and though all without is fragrance,\nand motion, and beauty, the dewdrops are twinkling, butterflies\nfluttering, and merry birds caroling and racketing as if they never\ncould sing loud or fast enough, yet within there is such a stillness\nthat the tick of the tall mahogany clock is audible through the\nwhole house, and the buzz of the blue flies, as they whiz along up\nand down the window-panes, is a distinct item of hearing. Look into\nthe best front room, and you may see the upright form of my Uncle\nPhineas, in his immaculate Sunday clothes, with his Bible spread\nopen on the little stand before him, and even a deeper than usual\ngravity settling down over his toil-worn features. Alongside, in\nwell-brushed Sunday clothes, with clean faces and smooth hair, sat\nthe whole of us younger people, each drawn up in a chair, with hat\nand handkerchief, ready for the first stroke of the bell, while\nAunt Kezzy, all trimmed, and primmed, and made ready for meeting,\nsat reading her psalm-book, only looking up occasionally to give\nan additional jerk to some shirt-collar, or the fifteenth pull to\nSusan's frock, or to repress any straggling looks that might be\nwandering about, \"beholding vanity.\"\n\nA stranger, in glancing at Uncle Phineas as he sat intent on\nhis Sunday reading, might have seen that the Sabbath was in his\nheart--there was no mistake about it. It was plain that he had put\nby all worldly thoughts when he shut up his account-book, and that\nhis mind was as free from every earthly association as his Sunday\ncoat was from dust. The slave of worldliness, who is driven, by\nperplexing business or adventurous speculation, through the hours of\na half-kept Sabbath to the fatigues of another week, might envy the\nunbroken quiet, the sunny tranquillity, which hallowed the weekly\nrest of my uncle.\n\nThe Sabbath of the Puritan Christian was the golden day, and all\nits associations, and all its thoughts, words, and deeds, were so\nentirely distinct from the ordinary material of life, that it was\nto him a sort of weekly translation--a quitting of this world to\nsojourn a day in a better; and year after year, as each Sabbath set\nits seal on the completed labors of a week, the pilgrim felt that\none more stage of his earthly journey was completed, and that he\nwas one week nearer to his eternal rest. And as years, with their\nchanges, came on, and the strong man grew old, and missed, one after\nanother, familiar forms that had risen around his earlier years, the\nface of the Sabbath became like that of an old and tried friend,\ncarrying him back to the scenes of his youth, and connecting him\nwith scenes long gone by, restoring to him the dew and freshness of\nbrighter and more buoyant days.\n\nViewed simply as an institution for a Christian and mature mind,\nnothing could be more perfect than the Puritan Sabbath: if it had\nany failing, it was in the want of adaptation to children, and to\nthose not interested in its peculiar duties. If you had been in the\ndwelling of my uncle of a Sabbath morning, you must have found the\nunbroken stillness delightful; the calm and quiet must have soothed\nand disposed you for contemplation, and the evident appearance of\nsingle-hearted devotion to the duties of the day in the elder part\nof the family must have been a striking addition to the picture.\nBut, then, if your eye had watched attentively the motions of us\njuveniles, you might have seen that what was so very invigorating\nto the disciplined Christian was a weariness to young flesh and\nbones. Then there was not, as now, the intellectual relaxation\nafforded by the Sunday-school, with its various forms of religious\nexercise, its thousand modes of interesting and useful information.\nOur whole stock in this line was the Bible and Primer, and these\nwere our main dependence for whiling away the tedious hours between\nour early breakfast and the signal for meeting. How often was our\ninvention stretched to find wherewithal to keep up our stock of\nexcitement in a line with the duties of the day! For the first\nhalf hour, perhaps, a story in the Bible answered our purpose very\nwell; but, having dispatched the history of Joseph, or the story\nof the ten plagues, we then took to the Primer: and then there\nwas, first, the looking over the system of theological and ethical\nteaching, commencing, \"In Adam's fall we sinn\u00e9d all,\" and extending\nthrough three or four pages of pictorial and poetic embellishment.\nNext was the death of John Rogers, who was burned at Smithfield;\nand for a while we could entertain ourselves with counting all his\n\"nine children and one at the breast,\" as in the picture they stand\nin a regular row, like a pair of stairs. These being done, came\nmiscellaneous exercises of our own invention, such as counting all\nthe psalms in the psalm-book, backward and forward, to and from the\nDoxology, or numbering the books in the Bible, or some other such\ndevice as we deemed within the pale of religious employments. When\nall these failed, and it still wanted an hour of meeting time, we\nlooked up at the ceiling, and down at the floor, and all around\ninto every corner, to see what we could do next; and happy was he\nwho could spy a pin gleaming in some distant crack, and forthwith\nmuster an occasion for getting down to pick it up. Then there was\nthe infallible recollection that we wanted a drink of water, as an\nexcuse to get out to the well; or else we heard some strange noise\namong the chickens, and insisted that it was essential that we\nshould see what was the matter; or else pussy would jump on to the\ntable, when all of us would spring to drive her down; while there\nwas a most assiduous watching of the clock to see when the first\nbell would ring. Happy was it for us, in the interim, if we did not\nbegin to look at each other and make up faces, or slyly slip off and\non our shoes, or some other incipient attempts at roguery, which\nwould gradually so undermine our gravity that there would be some\nsudden explosion of merriment, whereat Uncle Phineas would look up\nand say, \"Tut, tut,\" and Aunt Kezzy would make a speech about wicked\nchildren breaking the Sabbath day. I remember once how my Cousin\nBill got into deep disgrace one Sunday by a roguish trick. He was\njust about to close his Bible with all sobriety, when snap came a\ngrasshopper through an open window, and alighted in the middle of\nthe page. Bill instantly kidnapped the intruder, for so important an\nauxiliary in the way of employment was not to be despised. Presently\nwe children looked towards Bill, and there he sat, very demurely\nreading his Bible, with the grasshopper hanging by one leg from the\ncorner of his mouth, kicking and sprawling, without in the least\ndisturbing Master William's gravity. We all burst into an uproarious\nlaugh. But it came to be rather a serious affair for Bill, as his\ngood father was in the practice of enforcing truth and duty by\ncertain modes of moral suasion much recommended by Solomon, though\nfallen into disrepute at the present day.\n\nThis morning picture may give a good specimen of the whole livelong\nSunday, which presented only an alternation of similar scenes until\nsunset, when a universal unchaining of tongues and a general scamper\nproclaimed that the \"sun was down.\"\n\nBut, it may be asked, what was the result of all this strictness?\nDid it not disgust you with the Sabbath and with religion? No,\nit did not. It did not, because it was the result of no unkindly\nfeeling, but of consistent principle; and consistency of principle\nis what even children learn to appreciate and revere. The law\nof obedience and of reverence for the Sabbath was constraining\nso equally on the young and the old, that its claims came to be\nregarded like those immutable laws of nature, which no one thinks\nof being out of patience with, though they sometimes bear hard\non personal convenience. The effect of the system was to ingrain\ninto our character a veneration for the Sabbath which no friction\nof after life would ever efface. I have lived to wander in many\nclimates and foreign lands, where the Sabbath is an unknown name, or\nwhere it is only recognized by noisy mirth; but never has the day\nreturned without bringing with it a breathing of religious awe, and\neven a yearning for the unbroken stillness, the placid repose, and\nthe simple devotion of the Puritan Sabbath.\n\n\nANOTHER SCENE\n\n\"How late we are this morning!\" said Mrs. Roberts to her husband,\nglancing hurriedly at the clock, as they were sitting down to\nbreakfast on a Sabbath morning. \"Really, it is a shame to us to be\nso late Sundays. I wonder John and Henry are not up yet: Hannah, did\nyou speak to them?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am, but I could not make them mind; they said it was\nSunday, and that we always have breakfast later Sundays.\"\n\n\"Well, it is a shame to us, I must say,\" said Mrs. Roberts, sitting\ndown to the table. \"I never lie late myself unless something in\nparticular happens. Last night I was out very late, and Sabbath\nbefore last I had a bad headache.\"\n\n\"Well, well, my dear,\" said Mr. Roberts, \"it is not worth while to\nworry yourself about it; Sunday is a day of rest; everybody indulges\na little of a Sunday morning, it is so very natural, you know; one's\nwork done up, one feels like taking a little rest.\"\n\n\"Well, I must say it was not the way my mother brought me up,\" said\nMrs. Roberts; \"and I really can't feel it to be right.\"\n\nThis last part of the discourse had been listened to by two\nsleepy-looking boys, who had, meanwhile, taken their seats at table\nwith that listless air which is the result of late sleeping.\n\n\"Oh, by the bye, my dear, what did you give for those hams\nSaturday?\" said Mr. Roberts.\n\n\"Eleven cents a pound, I believe,\" replied Mrs. Roberts; \"but\nStephens and Philips have some much nicer, canvas and all, for\nten cents. I think we had better get our things at Stephens and\nPhilips's in future, my dear.\"\n\n\"Why? are they much cheaper?\"\n\n\"Oh, a great deal; but I forget it is Sunday. We ought to be\nthinking of other things. Boys, have you looked over your\nSunday-school lesson?\"\n\n\"No, ma'am.\"\n\n\"Now, how strange! and here it wants only half an hour of the time,\nand you are not dressed either. Now, see the bad effects of not\nbeing up in time.\"\n\nThe boys looked sullen, and said \"they were up as soon as any one\nelse in the house.\"\n\n\"Well, your father and I had some excuse, because we were out late\nlast night; you ought to have been up full three hours ago, and to\nhave been all ready, with your lessons learned. Now, what do you\nsuppose you shall do?\"\n\n\"Oh, mother, do let us stay at home this one morning; we don't know\nthe lesson, and it won't do any good for us to go.\"\n\n\"No, indeed, I shall not. You must go and get along as well as you\ncan. It is all your own fault. Now, go upstairs and hurry. We shall\nnot find time for prayers this morning.\"\n\nThe boys took themselves upstairs to \"hurry,\" as directed, and soon\none of them called from the top of the stairs, \"Mother! mother! the\nbuttons are off this vest; so I can't wear it!\" and \"Mother! here is\na long rip in my best coat!\" said another.\n\n\"Why did you not tell me of it before?\" said Mrs. Roberts, coming\nupstairs.\n\n\"I forgot it,\" said the boy.\n\n\"Well, well, stand still; I must catch it together somehow, if it is\nSunday. There! there is the bell! Stand still a minute!\" and Mrs.\nRoberts plied needle, and thread, and scissors; \"there, that will do\nfor to-day. Dear me, how confused everything is to-day!\"\n\n\"It is always just so Sundays,\" said John, flinging up his book and\ncatching it again as he ran downstairs.\n\n\"It is always just so Sundays.\" These words struck rather\nunpleasantly on Mrs. Roberts's conscience, for something told her\nthat, whatever the reason might be, it _was_ just so. On Sunday\neverything was later and more irregular than any other day in the\nweek.\n\n\"Hannah, you must boil that piece of beef for dinner to-day.\"\n\n\"I thought you told me you did not have cooking done on Sunday.\"\n\n\"No, I do not, generally. I am very sorry Mr. Roberts would get\nthat piece of meat yesterday. We did not need it, but here it is on\nour hands; the weather is too hot to keep it. It won't do to let it\nspoil; so I must have it boiled, for aught I see.\"\n\nHannah had lived four Sabbaths with Mrs. Roberts, and on two of\nthem she had been required to cook from similar reasoning. \"For\nonce\" is apt, in such cases, to become a phrase of very extensive\nsignification.\n\n\"It really worries me to have things go on so as they do on\nSundays,\" said Mrs. Roberts to her husband. \"I never do feel as if\nwe kept Sunday as we ought.\"\n\n\"My dear, you have been saying so ever since we were married, and I\ndo not see what you are going to do about it. For my part I do not\nsee why we do not do as well as people in general. We do not visit,\nnor receive company, nor read improper books. We go to church, and\nsend the children to Sunday-school, and so the greater part of the\nday is spent in a religious way. Then out of church we have the\nchildren's Sunday-school books, and one or two religious newspapers.\nI think that is quite enough.\"\n\n\"But, somehow, when I was a child, my mother\"--said Mrs. Roberts,\nhesitating.\n\n\"Oh, my dear, your mother must not be considered an exact pattern\nfor these days. People were too strict in your mother's time; they\ncarried the thing too far, altogether; everybody allows it now.\"\n\nMrs. Roberts was silenced, but not satisfied. A strict religious\neducation had left just conscience enough on this subject to make\nher uneasy.\n\nThese worthy people had a sort of general idea that Sunday ought to\nbe kept, and they intended to keep it; but they had never taken the\ntrouble to investigate or inquire as to the most proper way, nor\nwas it so much an object of interest that their weekly arrangements\nwere planned with any reference to it. Mr. Roberts would often\nengage in business at the close of the week, which he knew would\nso fatigue him that he would be weary and listless on Sunday; and\nMrs. Roberts would allow her family cares to accumulate in the same\nway, so that she was either wearied with efforts to accomplish it\nbefore the Sabbath, or perplexed and worried by finding everything\nat loose ends on that day. They had the idea that Sunday was to\nbe kept when it was perfectly convenient, and did not demand any\nsacrifice of time or money. But if stopping to keep the Sabbath in\na journey would risk passage money or a seat in the stage, or, in\nhousekeeping, if it would involve any considerable inconvenience or\nexpense, it was deemed a providential intimation that it was \"a work\nof necessity and mercy\" to attend to secular matters. To their minds\nthe fourth command read thus: \"Remember the Sabbath day to keep it\nholy when it comes convenient, and costs neither time nor money.\"\n\nAs to the effects of this on the children, there was neither enough\nof strictness to make them respect the Sabbath, nor of religious\ninterest to make them love it; of course, the little restraint\nthere was proved just enough to lead them to dislike and despise\nit. Children soon perceive the course of their parents' feelings,\nand it was evident to the children of this family that their father\nand mother generally found themselves hurried into the Sabbath\nwith hearts and minds full of this world, and their conversation\nand thoughts were so constantly turning to worldly things, and so\nawkwardly drawn back by a sense of religious obligation, that the\nSabbath appeared more obviously a clog and a fetter than it did\nunder the strictest r\u00e9gime of Puritan days.\n\n\nSKETCH SECOND\n\nThe little quiet village of Camden stands under the brow of a\nrugged hill in one of the most picturesque parts of New England;\nand its regular, honest, and industrious villagers were not a\nlittle surprised and pleased that Mr. James, a rich man, and\npleasant-spoken withal, had concluded to take up his residence among\nthem. He brought with him a pretty, genteel wife, and a group of\nrosy, romping, but amiable children; and there was so much of good\nnature and kindness about the manners of every member of the family,\nthat the whole neighborhood were prepossessed in their favor. Mr.\nJames was a man of somewhat visionary and theoretical turn of\nmind, and very much in the habit of following out his own ideas of\nright and wrong, without troubling himself particularly as to the\nappearance his course might make in the eyes of others. He was a\nsupporter of the ordinances of religion, and always ready to give\nboth time and money to promote any benevolent object; and though\nhe had never made any public profession of religion, or connected\nhimself with any particular set of Christians, still he seemed\nto possess great reverence for God, and to worship him in spirit\nand in truth, and he professed to make the Bible the guide of his\nlife. Mr. James had been brought up under a system of injudicious\nreligious restraint. He had determined, in educating his children,\nto adopt an exactly opposite course, and to make religion and all\nits institutions sources of enjoyment. His aim, doubtless, was an\nappropriate one; but his method of carrying it out, to say the\nleast, was one which was not a safe model for general imitation.\nIn regard to the Sabbath, for example, he considered that, although\nthe plan of going to church twice a day, and keeping all the family\nquiet within doors the rest of the time, was good, other methods\nwould be much better. Accordingly, after the morning service, which\nhe and his whole family regularly attended, he would spend the rest\nof the day with his children. In bad weather he would instruct\nthem in natural history, show them pictures, and read them various\naccounts of the works of God, combining all with such religious\ninstruction and influence as a devotional mind might furnish. When\nthe weather permitted, he would range with them through the fields,\ncollecting minerals and plants, or sail with them on the lake,\nmeanwhile directing the thoughts of his young listeners upward\nto God, by the many beautiful traces of his presence and agency,\nwhich superior knowledge and observation enabled him to discover\nand point out. These Sunday strolls were seasons of most delightful\nenjoyment to the children. Though it was with some difficulty that\ntheir father could restrain them from loud and noisy demonstrations\nof delight, and he saw with some regret that the mere animal\nexcitement of the stroll seemed to draw the attention too much from\nreligious considerations, and, in particular, to make the exercises\nof the morning seem like a preparatory penance to the enjoyments\nof the afternoon, nevertheless, when Mr. James looked back to his\nown boyhood, and remembered the frigid restraint, the entire want\nof any kind of mental or bodily excitement, which had made the\nSabbath so much a weariness to him, he could not but congratulate\nhimself when he perceived his children looking forward to Sunday\nas a day of delight, and found himself on that day continually\nsurrounded by a circle of smiling and cheerful faces. His talent of\nimparting religious instruction in a simple and interesting form\nwas remarkably happy, and it is probable that there was among his\nchildren an uncommon degree of real thought and feeling on religious\nsubjects as the result.\n\nThe good people of Camden, however, knew not what to think of\na course that appeared to them an entire violation of all the\nrequirements of the Sabbath. The first impulse of human nature is to\ncondemn at once all who vary from what has been commonly regarded\nas the right way; and, accordingly, Mr. James was unsparingly\ndenounced, by many good people, as a Sabbath breaker, and infidel,\nand an opposer to religion.\n\nSuch was the character heard of him by Mr. Richards, a young\nclergyman, who, shortly after Mr. James fixed his residence in\nCamden, accepted the pastoral charge of the village. It happened\nthat Mr. Richards had known Mr. James in college, and, remembering\nhim as a remarkably serious, amiable, and conscientious man, he\nresolved to ascertain from himself the views which had led him\nto the course of conduct so offensive to the good people of the\nneighborhood.\n\n\"This is all very well, my good friend,\" said he, after he had\nlistened to Mr. James's eloquent account of his own system of\nreligious instruction, and its effects upon his family, \"I do not\ndoubt that this system does very well for yourself and family;\nbut there are other things to be taken into consideration besides\npersonal and family improvement. Do you not know, Mr. James, that\nthe most worthless and careless part of my congregation quote your\nexample as a respectable precedent for allowing their families\nto violate the order of the Sabbath? You and your children sail\nabout on the lake, with minds and hearts, I doubt not, elevated\nand tranquilized by its quiet repose; but Ben Dakes, and his idle,\nprofane army of children, consider themselves as doing very much the\nsame thing when they lie lolling about, sunning themselves on its\nshore, or skipping stones over its surface the whole of a Sunday\nafternoon.\"\n\n\"Let every one answer to his own conscience,\" replied Mr. James.\n\"If I keep the Sabbath conscientiously, I am approved of God; if\nanother transgresses his conscience, 'to his own master he standeth\nor falleth.' I am not responsible for all the abuses that idle or\nevil-disposed persons may fall into, in consequence of my doing what\nis right.\"\n\n\"Let me quote an answer from the same chapter,\" said Mr. Richards.\n\"'Let no man put a stumbling-block, or an occasion to fall, in his\nbrother's way: let not your good be evil spoken of. It is good\nneither to eat flesh nor drink wine, nor anything whereby thy\nbrother stumbleth, or is offended, or made weak.' Now, my good\nfriend, you happen to be endowed with a certain tone of mind which\nenables you to carry through your mode of keeping the Sabbath with\nlittle comparative evil, and much good, so far as your family\nis concerned; but how many persons in this neighborhood, do you\nsuppose, would succeed equally well if they were to attempt it? If\nit were the common custom for families to absent themselves from\npublic worship in the afternoon, and to stroll about the fields,\nor ride, or sail, how many parents, do you suppose, would have the\ndexterity and talent to check all that was inconsistent with the\nduties of the day? Is it not your ready command of language, your\nuncommon tact in simplifying and illustrating, your knowledge of\nnatural history and of Biblical literature, that enable you to\naccomplish the results that you do? And is there one parent in a\nhundred that could do the same? Now, just imagine our neighbor,\n'Squire Hart, with his ten boys and girls, turned out into the\nfields on a Sunday afternoon to profit withal: you know he can\nnever finish a sentence without stopping to begin it again half a\ndozen times. What progress would he make in instructing them? And\nso of a dozen others I could name along this very street here.\nNow, you men of cultivated minds must give your countenance to\ncourses which would be best for society at large, or, as the\nsentiment was expressed by St. Paul, 'We that are strong ought to\nbear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves,\nfor even Christ pleased not himself.' Think, my dear sir, if our\nSaviour had gone only on the principle of avoiding what might be\ninjurious to his own improvement, how unsafe his example might\nhave proved to less elevated minds. Doubtless he might have made\na Sabbath day fishing excursion an occasion of much elevated and\nimpressive instruction; but, although he declared himself 'Lord\nof the Sabbath day,' and at liberty to suspend its obligation at\nhis own discretion, yet he never violated the received method of\nobserving it, except in cases where superstitious tradition trenched\ndirectly on those interests which the Sabbath was given to promote.\nHe asserted the right to relieve pressing bodily wants, and to\nadminister to the necessities of others on the Sabbath, but beyond\nthat he allowed himself in no deviation from established custom.\"\n\nMr. James looked thoughtful. \"I have not reflected on the subject in\nthis view,\" he replied. \"But, my dear sir, considering how little of\nthe public services of the Sabbath is on a level with the capacity\nof younger children, it seems to me almost a pity to take them to\nchurch the whole of the day.\"\n\n\"I have thought of that myself,\" replied Mr. Richards, \"and have\nsometimes thought that, could persons be found to conduct such a\nthing, it would be desirable to institute a separate service for\nchildren, in which the exercises should be particularly adapted to\nthem.\"\n\n\"I should like to be minister to a congregation of children,\" said\nMr. James warmly.\n\n\"Well,\" replied Mr. Richards, \"give our good people time to get\nacquainted with you, and do away the prejudices which your\nextraordinary mode of proceeding has induced, and I think I could\neasily assemble such a company for you every Sabbath.\"\n\nAfter this, much to the surprise of the village, Mr. James and his\nfamily were regular attendants at both the services of the Sabbath.\nMr. Richards explained to the good people of his congregation the\nmotives which had led their neighbor to the adoption of what,\nto them, seemed so unchristian a course; and, upon reflection,\nthey came to the perception of the truth, that a man may depart\nvery widely from the received standard of right for other\nreasons than being an infidel or an opposer of religion. A ready\nreturn of cordial feeling was the result; and as Mr. James found\nhimself treated with respect and confidence, he began to feel,\nnotwithstanding his fastidiousness, that there were strong points of\ncongeniality between all real and warm-hearted Christians, however\ndifferent might be their intellectual culture, and in all simplicity\nunited himself with the little church of Camden. A year from the\ntime of his first residence there, every Sabbath afternoon saw him\nsurrounded by a congregation of young children, for whose benefit\nhe had, at his own expense, provided a room, fitted up with maps,\nScriptural pictures, and every convenience for the illustration of\nBiblical knowledge; and the parents or guardians who from time to\ntime attended their children during these exercises often confessed\nthemselves as much interested and benefited as any of their youthful\ncompanions.\n\n\nSKETCH THIRD\n\nIt was near the close of a pleasant Saturday afternoon that I drew\nup my weary horse in front of a neat little dwelling in the village\nof N. This, as near as I could gather from description, was the\nhouse of my cousin, William Fletcher, the identical rogue of a Bill\nFletcher, of whom we have aforetime spoken. Bill had always been\na thriving, push-ahead sort of a character, and during the course\nof my rambling life I had improved every occasional opportunity of\nkeeping up our early acquaintance. The last time that I returned to\nmy native country, after some years of absence, I heard of him as\nmarried and settled in the village of N., where he was conducting\na very prosperous course of business, and shortly after received\na pressing invitation to visit him at his own home. Now, as I had\ngathered from experience the fact that it is of very little use to\nrap one's knuckles off on the front door of a country house without\nany knocker, I therefore made the best of my way along a little\npath, bordered with marigolds and balsams, that led to the back part\nof the dwelling. The sound of a number of childish voices made me\nstop, and, looking through the bushes, I saw the very image of my\nCousin Bill Fletcher, as he used to be twenty years ago; the same\nbold forehead, the same dark eyes, the same smart, saucy mouth,\nand the same \"who-cares-for-that\" toss to his head. \"There, now,\"\nexclaimed the boy, setting down a pair of shoes that he had been\nblacking, and arranging them at the head of a long row of all sizes\nand sorts, from those which might have fitted a two-year-old foot\nupward, \"there, I've blacked every single one of them, and made them\nshine too, and done it all in twenty minutes; if anybody thinks they\ncan do it quicker than that, I'd just like to have them try; that's\nall.\"\n\n\"I know they couldn't, though,\" said a fair-haired little girl,\nwho stood admiring the sight, evidently impressed with the utmost\nreverence for her brother's ability; \"and, Bill, I've been putting\nup all the playthings in the big chest, and I want you to come and\nturn the lock--the key hurts my fingers.\"\n\n\"Poh! I can turn it easier than that,\" said the boy, snapping his\nfingers; \"have you got them all in?\"\n\n\"Yes, all; only I left out the soft bales, and the string of red\nbeads, and the great rag baby for Fanny to play with--you know\nmother says babies must have their playthings Sunday.\"\n\n\"Oh, to be sure,\" said the brother very considerately; \"babies\ncan't read, you know, as we can, nor hear Bible stories, nor look\nat pictures.\" At this moment I stepped forward, for the spell of\nformer times was so powerfully on me, that I was on the very point\nof springing forward with a \"Halloo, there, Bill!\" as I used to meet\nthe father in old times; but the look of surprise that greeted my\nappearance brought me to myself.\n\n\"Is your father at home?\" said I.\n\n\"Father and mother are both gone out; but I guess, sir, they will be\nhome in a few moments: won't you walk in?\"\n\nI accepted the invitation, and the little girl showed me into a\nsmall and very prettily furnished parlor. There was a piano with\nmusic-books on one side of the room, some fine pictures hung about\nthe walls, and a little, neat centre-table was plentifully strewn\nwith books. Besides this, the two recesses on each side of the\nfireplace contained each a bookcase with a glass locked door.\n\nThe little girl offered me a chair, and then lingered a moment,\nas if she felt some disposition to entertain me if she could only\nthink of something to say; and at last, looking up in my face, she\nsaid in a confidential tone, \"Mother says she left Willie and me to\nkeep house this afternoon while she was gone, and we are putting\nup all the things for Sunday, so as to get everything done before\nshe comes home. Willie has gone to put away the playthings, and\nI'm going to put up the books.\" So saying, she opened the doors of\none of the bookcases, and began busily carrying the books from the\ncentre-table to deposit them on the shelves, in which employment\nshe was soon assisted by Willie, who took the matter in hand in a\nvery masterly manner, showing his sister what were and what were\nnot \"Sunday books\" with the air of a person entirely at home in the\nbusiness. \"Robinson Crusoe\" and the many-volumed Peter Parley were\nput by without hesitation; there was, however, a short demurring\nover a \"North American Review,\" because Willie said he was sure his\nfather read something one Sunday out of it while Susan averred that\nhe did not commonly read in it, and only read in it then because the\npiece was something about the Bible; but as nothing could be settled\ndefinitively on the point, the review was \"laid on the table,\" like\nknotty questions in Congress. Then followed a long discussion over\nan extract book, which, as usual, contained all sorts, both sacred,\nserious, comic, and profane; and at last Willie, with much gravity,\ndecided to lock it up, on the principle that it was best to be on\nthe safe side, in support of which he appealed to me. I was saved\nfrom deciding the question by the entrance of the father and mother.\nMy old friend knew me at once, and presented his pretty wife to\nme with the same look of exultation with which he used to hold up\na string of trout or an uncommonly fine perch of his own catching\nfor my admiration, and then looking round on his fine family of\nchildren, two more of which he had brought home with him, seemed to\nsay to me, \"There! what do you think of that, now?\"\n\nAnd, in truth, a very pretty sight it was--enough to make any\none's old bachelor coat sit very uneasily on him. Indeed, there is\nnothing that gives one such a startling idea of the tricks that\nold Father Time has been playing on us, as to meet some boyish or\ngirlish companions with half a dozen or so of thriving children\nabout them. My old friend, I found, was in essence just what the boy\nhad been. There was the same upright bearing, the same confident,\ncheerful tone to his voice, and the same fire in his eye; only that\nthe hand of manhood had slightly touched some of the lines of his\nface, giving them a staidness of expression becoming the man and the\nfather.\n\n\"Very well, my children,\" said Mrs. Fletcher, as, after tea, William\nand Susan finished recounting to her the various matters that they\nhad set in order that afternoon; \"I believe now we can say that our\nweek's work is finished, and that we have nothing to do but rest and\nenjoy ourselves.\"\n\n\"Oh, and papa will show us the pictures in those great books that he\nbrought home for us last Monday, will he not?\" said little Robert.\n\n\"And, mother, you will tell us some more about Solomon's temple and\nhis palaces, won't you?\" said Susan.\n\n\"And I should like to know if father has found out the answer to\nthat hard question I gave him last Sunday?\" said Willie.\n\n\"All will come in good time,\" said Mrs. Fletcher. \"But tell me,\nmy dear children, are you sure that you are quite ready for the\nSabbath? You say you have put away the books and the playthings;\nhave you put away, too, all wrong and unkind feelings? Do you feel\nkindly and pleasantly towards everybody?\"\n\n\"Yes, mother,\" said Willie, who appeared to have taken a great part\nof this speech to himself; \"I went over to Tom Walter's this very\nmorning to ask him about that chicken of mine, and he said that he\ndid not mean to hit it, and did not know he had till I told him of\nit; and so we made all up again, and I am glad I went.\"\n\n\"I am inclined to think, Willie,\" said his father, \"that if\neverybody would make it a rule to settle up all their differences\nbefore Sunday, there would be very few long quarrels and\nlawsuits. In about half the cases, a quarrel is founded on some\nmisunderstanding that would be got over in five minutes if one\nwould go directly to the person for explanation.\"\n\n\"I suppose I need not ask you,\" said Mrs. Fletcher, \"whether you\nhave fully learned your Sunday-school lessons?\"\n\n\"Oh, to be sure,\" said William. \"You know, mother, that Susan and\nI were busy about them through Monday and Tuesday, and then this\nafternoon we looked them over again, and wrote down some questions.\"\n\n\"And I heard Robert say his all through, and showed him all the\nplaces on the Bible Atlas,\" said Susan.\n\n\"Well, then,\" said my friend, \"if everything is done, let us begin\nSunday with some music.\"\n\nThanks to the recent improvements in the musical instruction of the\nyoung, every family can now form a domestic concert, with words and\ntunes adapted to the capacity and the voices of children; and while\nthese little ones, full of animation, pressed round their mother\nas she sat at the piano, and accompanied her music with the words\nof some beautiful hymns, I thought that, though I might have heard\nfiner music, I had never listened to any that answered the purpose\nof music so well.\n\nIt was a custom at my friend's to retire at an early hour on\nSaturday evening, in order that there might be abundant time\nfor rest, and no excuse for late rising on the Sabbath; and,\naccordingly, when the children had done singing, after a short\nseason of family devotion, we all betook ourselves to our chambers,\nand I, for one, fell asleep with the impression of having finished\nthe week most agreeably, and with anticipations of very great\npleasure on the morrow.\n\nEarly in the morning I was roused from my sleep by the sound of\nlittle voices singing with great animation in the room next to mine,\nand, listening, I caught the following words:--\n\n    \"Awake! awake! your bed forsake,\n      To God your praises pay;\n    The morning sun is clear and bright;\n    With joy we hail his cheerful light.\n          In songs of love\n          Praise God above--\n        It is the Sabbath day!\"\n\nThe last words were repeated and prolonged most vehemently by a\nvoice that I knew for Master William's.\n\n\"Now, Willie, I like the other one best,\" said the soft voice of\nlittle Susan; and immediately she began:--\n\n    \"How sweet is the day,\n    When, leaving our play,\n      The Saviour we seek!\n    The fair morning glows\n    When Jesus arose--\n      The best in the week.\"\n\nMaster William helped along with great spirit in the singing of this\ntune, though I heard him observing, at the end of the first verse,\nthat he liked the other one better, because \"it seemed to step off\nso kind o' lively;\" and his accommodating sister followed him as he\nbegan singing it again with redoubled animation.\n\nIt was a beautiful summer morning, and the voices of the children\nwithin accorded well with the notes of birds and bleating flocks\nwithout--a cheerful, yet Sabbath-like and quieting sound.\n\n\"Blessed be children's music!\" said I to myself; \"how much better\nthis is than the solitary tick, tick, of old Uncle Fletcher's tall\nmahogany clock!\"\n\nThe family bell summoned us to the breakfast room just as the\nchildren had finished their hymn. The little breakfast parlor had\nbeen swept and garnished expressly for the day, and a vase of\nbeautiful flowers, which the children had the day before collected\nfrom their gardens, adorned the centre-table. The door of one of the\nbookcases by the fireplace was thrown open, presenting to view a\ncollection of prettily bound books, over the top of which appeared\nin gilt letters the inscription, \"Sabbath Library.\" The windows were\nthrown open to let in the invigorating breath of the early morning,\nand the birds that flitted among the rose-bushes without seemed\nscarcely lighter and more buoyant than did the children as they\nentered the room. It was legibly written on every face in the house,\nthat the happiest day in the week had arrived, and each one seemed\nto enter into its duties with a whole soul. It was still early when\nthe breakfast and the season of family devotion were over, and the\nchildren eagerly gathered round the table to get a sight of the\npictures in the new books which their father had purchased in New\nYork the week before, and which had been reserved as a Sunday's\ntreat. They were a beautiful edition of Calmet's Dictionary, in\nseveral large volumes, with very superior engravings.\n\n\"It seems to me that this work must be very expensive,\" I remarked\nto my friend, as we were turning the leaves.\n\n\"Indeed it is so,\" he replied; \"but here is one place where I am\nless withheld by considerations of expense than in any other. In\nall that concerns making a show in the world, I am perfectly ready\nto economize. I can do very well without expensive clothing or\nfashionable furniture, and am willing that we should be looked on\nas very plain sort of people in all such matters; but in all that\nrelates to the cultivation of the mind, and the improvement of\nthe hearts of my children, I am willing to go to the extent of my\nability. Whatever will give my children a better knowledge of, or\ndeeper interest in, the Bible, or enable them to spend a Sabbath\nprofitably and without weariness, stands first on my list among\nthings to be purchased. I have spent in this way one third as much\nas the furnishing of my house costs me.\" On looking over the shelves\nof the Sabbath Library, I perceived that my friend had been at no\nsmall pains in the selection. It comprised all the popular standard\nworks for the illustration of the Bible, together with the best\nof the modern religious publications adapted to the capacity of\nyoung children. Two large drawers below were filled with maps and\nScriptural engravings, some of them of a very superior character.\n\n\"We have been collecting these things gradually ever since we\nhave been at housekeeping,\" said my friend; \"the children take an\ninterest in this library, as something more particularly belonging\nto them, and some of the books are donations from their little\nearnings.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Willie, \"I bought Helon's 'Pilgrimage' with my egg\nmoney, and Susan bought the 'Life of David,' and little Robert is\ngoing to buy one, too, next New Year.\"\n\n\"But,\" said I, \"would not the Sunday-school library answer all the\npurpose of this?\"\n\n\"The Sabbath-school library is an admirable thing,\" said my friend;\n\"but this does more fully and perfectly what that was intended to\ndo. It makes a sort of central attraction at home on the Sabbath,\nand makes the acquisition of religious knowledge and the proper\nobservance of the Sabbath a sort of family enterprise. You know,\" he\nadded, smiling, \"that people always feel interested for an object in\nwhich they have invested money.\"\n\nThe sound of the first Sabbath-school bell put an end to this\nconversation. The children promptly made themselves ready, and as\ntheir father was the superintendent of the school, and their mother\none of the teachers, it was quite a family party.\n\nOne part of every Sabbath at my friend's was spent by one or both\nparents with the children in a sort of review of the week. The\nattention of the little ones was directed to their own characters,\nthe various defects or improvements of the past week were pointed\nout, and they were stimulated to be on their guard in the time to\ncome, and the whole was closed by earnest prayer for such heavenly\naid as the temptations and faults of each particular one might need.\nAfter church in the evening, while the children were thus withdrawn\nto their mother's apartment, I could not forbear reminding my friend\nof old times, and of the rather anti-sabbatical turn of his mind in\nour boyish days.\n\n\"Now, William,\" said I, \"do you know that you were the last boy of\nwhom such an enterprise in Sabbath-keeping as this was to have been\nexpected? I suppose you remember Sunday at 'the old place'?\"\n\n\"Nay, now, I think I was the very one,\" said he, smiling, \"for I\nhad sense enough to see, as I grew up, that the day must be kept\nthoroughly or not at all, and I had enough blood and motion in my\ncomposition to see that something must be done to enliven and make\nit interesting; so I set myself about it. It was one of the first\nof our housekeeping resolutions, that the Sabbath should be made\na pleasant day, and yet be as inviolably kept as in the strictest\ntimes of our good father; and we have brought things to run in that\nchannel so long that it seems to be the natural order.\"\n\n\"I have always supposed,\" said I, \"that it required a peculiar\ntalent, and more than common information in a parent, to accomplish\nthis to any extent.\"\n\n\"It requires nothing,\" replied my friend, \"but common sense, and a\nstrong determination to do it. Parents who make a definite object\nof the religious instruction of their children, if they have common\nsense, can very soon see what is necessary in order to interest\nthem; and, if they find themselves wanting in the requisite\ninformation, they can, in these days, very readily acquire it. The\nsources of religious knowledge are so numerous, and so popular\nin their form, that all can avail themselves of them. The only\ndifficulty after all is, that the keeping of the Sabbath and the\nimparting of religious instruction are not made enough of a _home_\nobject. Parents pass off the responsibility on to the Sunday-school\nteacher, and suppose, of course, if they send their children to\nSunday-school, they do the best they can for them. Now, I am\nsatisfied, from my experience as a Sabbath-school teacher, that the\nbest religious instruction imparted abroad still stands in need\nof the co\u00f6peration of a systematic plan of religious discipline\nand instruction at home; for, after all, God gives a power to the\nefforts of a _parent_ that can never be transferred to other hands.\"\n\n\"But do you suppose,\" said I, \"that the _common_ class of minds,\nwith ordinary advantages, can do what you have done?\"\n\n\"I think in most cases they could, if they begin right. But when\nboth parents and children have formed habits, it is more difficult\nto change than to begin right at first. However, I think all might\naccomplish a great deal if they would give time, money, and effort\ntowards it. It is because the object is regarded of so little value,\ncompared with other things of a worldly nature, that so little is\ndone.\"\n\nMy friend was here interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Fletcher with\nthe children. Mrs. Fletcher sat down to the piano, and the Sabbath\nwas closed with the happy songs of the little ones; nor could I\nnotice a single anxious eye turning to the window to see if the sun\nwas not almost down. The tender and softened expression of each\ncountenance bore witness to the subduing power of those instructions\nwhich had hallowed the last hour, and their sweet, birdlike voices\nharmonized well with the beautiful words:--\n\n    \"How sweet the light of Sabbath eve!\n    How soft the sunbeam lingering there!\n    Those holy hours this low earth leave,\n    And rise on wings of faith and prayer.\"\n\n\n\n\nRELIGIOUS POEMS\n\n\n\n\nST. CATHERINE BORNE BY ANGELS[6]\n\n  [6] According to this legend, Catherine was a noble maiden of\n  Alexandria, distinguished alike by birth, riches, beauty, and the\n  rarest gifts of genius and learning. In the flower of her life she\n  consecrated herself to the service of her Redeemer, and cheerfully\n  suffered for his sake the loss of wealth, friends, and the esteem of\n  the world. Banishment, imprisonment, and torture were in vain tried\n  to shake the constancy of her faith; and at last she was bound upon\n  the torturing-wheel for a cruel death. But the angels descended, so\n  says the story, rent the wheel, and bore her away, through the air,\n  far over the sea, to Mount Sinai, where her body was left to repose,\n  and her soul ascended with them to heaven.\n\n\n    Slow through the solemn air, in silence sailing,\n      Borne by mysterious angels, strong and fair,\n    She sleeps at last, blest dreams her eyelids veiling,\n      Above this weary world of strife and care.\n\n    Lo how she passeth!--dreamy, slow, and calm:\n      Scarce wave those broad, white wings, so silvery bright;\n    Those cloudy robes, in star-emblazoned folding,\n      Sweep mistily athwart the evening light.\n\n    Far, far below, the dim, forsaken earth,\n      The foes that threaten, or the friends that weep;\n    Past, like a dream, the torture and the pain:\n      For so He giveth his beloved sleep.\n\n    The restless bosom of the surging ocean\n      Gives back the image as the cloud floats o'er,\n    Hushing in glassy awe his troubled motion;\n      For one blest moment he complains no more.\n\n    Like the transparent golden floor of heaven,\n      His charm\u00e8d waters lie as in a dream,\n    And glistening wings, and starry robes unfolding,\n      And serious angel eyes far downward gleam.\n\n    O restless sea! thou seemest all enchanted\n      By that sweet vision of celestial rest;\n    Where are the winds and tides thy peace that haunted,--\n      So still thou seemest, so glorified and blest!\n\n    Ah, sea! to-morrow, that sweet scene forgotten,\n      Dark tides and tempests shall thy bosom rear;\n    And thy complaining waves, with restless motion,\n      Shall toss their hands in their old wild despair.\n\n    So o'er our hearts sometimes the sweet, sad story\n      Of suffering saints, borne homeward crowned and blest,\n    Shines down in stillness with a tender glory,\n      And makes a mirror there of breathless rest.\n\n    For not alone in those old Eastern regions\n      Are Christ's beloved ones tried by cross and chain;\n    In many a house are his elect ones hidden,\n      His martyrs suffering in their patient pain.\n\n    The rack, the cross, life's weary wrench of woe,\n      The world sees not, as slow, from day to day,\n    In calm, unspoken patience, sadly still,\n      The loving spirit bleeds itself away.\n\n    But there are hours when, from the heavens unfolding,\n      Come down the angels with the glad release;\n    And we look upward, to behold in glory\n      Our suffering loved ones borne away to peace.\n\n    Ah, brief the calm! the restless wave of feeling\n      Rises again when the bright cloud sweeps by,\n    And our unrestful souls reflect no longer\n      That tender vision of the upper sky.\n\n    Espous\u00e8d Lord of the pure saints in glory,\n      To whom all faithful souls affianced are,\n    Breathe down thy peace into our restless spirits,\n      And make a lasting, heavenly vision there.\n\n    So the bright gates no more on us shall close;\n      No more the cloud of angels fade away;\n    And we shall walk, amid life's weary strife,\n      In the calm light of thine eternal day.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHARMER\n\n     \"_Socrates._ However, you and Simmias appear to me as if you\n     wished to sift this subject more thoroughly, and to be afraid,\n     like children, lest, on the soul's departure from the body,\n     winds should blow it away.\n\n     \"Upon this Cebes said, 'Endeavor to teach us better, Socrates.\n     Perhaps there is a childish spirit in our breast that has such\n     a dread. Let us endeavor to persuade him not to be afraid of\n     death, as of hobgoblins.'\n\n     \"'But you must charm him every day,' said Socrates, 'until you\n     have quieted his fears.'\n\n     \"'But whence, O Socrates,' he said, 'can we procure a skillful\n     charmer for such a case, now you are about to leave us?'\n\n     \"'Greece is wide, Cebes,' he said, 'and in it surely there are\n     skillful men; and there are many barbarous nations, all of which\n     you should search, seeking such a charmer, sparing neither money\n     nor toil.'\"--Last words of Socrates, as narrated by Plato in the\n     _Phoedo_.\n\n\n    We need that charmer, for our hearts are sore\n      With longings for the things that may not be,\n    Faint for the friends that shall return no more,\n      Dark with distrust, or wrung with agony.\n\n    \"What is this life? and what to us is death?\n      Whence came we? whither go? and where are those\n    Who, in a moment stricken from our side,\n      Passed to that land of shadow and repose?\n\n    \"And are they all dust? and dust must we become?\n      Or are they living in some unknown clime?\n    Shall we regain them in that far-off home,\n      And live anew beyond the waves of time?\n\n    \"O man divine! on thee our souls have hung;\n      Thou wert our teacher in these questions high;\n    But ah! this day divides thee from our side,\n      And veils in dust thy kindly guiding eye.\n\n    \"Where is that Charmer whom thou bidst us seek?\n      On what far shores may his sweet voice be heard?\n    When shall these questions of our yearning souls\n      Be answered by the bright Eternal Word?\"\n\n    So spake the youth of Athens, weeping round,\n      When Socrates lay calmly down to die;\n    So spake the sage, prophetic of the hour\n      When earth's fair morning star should rise on high.\n\n    They found Him not, those youths of soul divine,\n      Long seeking, wandering, watching on life's shore;\n    Reasoning, aspiring, yearning for the light,\n      Death came and found them--doubting as before.\n\n    But years passed on; and lo! the Charmer came,\n      Pure, simple, sweet, as comes the silver dew,\n    And the world knew him not,--he walked alone\n      Encircled only by his trusting few.\n\n    Like the Athenian sage, rejected, scorned,\n      Betrayed, condemned, his day of doom drew nigh;\n    He drew his faithful few more closely round,\n      And told them that his hour was come--to die.\n\n    \"Let not your heart be troubled,\" then He said,\n      \"My Father's house hath mansions large and fair;\n    I go before you to prepare your place,\n      I will return to take you with me there.\"\n\n    And since that hour the awful foe is charmed,\n      And life and death are glorified and fair;\n    Whither He went we know, the way we know,\n      And with firm step press on to meet him there.\n\n\n\n\nKNOCKING\n\n     \"Behold, I stand at the door and knock.\"\n\n\n    Knocking, knocking, ever knocking?\n        Who is there?\n    'Tis a pilgrim, strange and kingly,\n        Never such was seen before;--\n    Ah, sweet soul, for such a wonder\n        Undo the door.\n\n    No,--that door is hard to open;\n    Hinges rusty, latch is broken;\n        Bid Him go.\n    Wherefore, with that knocking dreary\n    Scare the sleep from one so weary?\n        Say Him,--no.\n\n    Knocking, knocking, ever knocking?\n        What! Still there?\n    O sweet soul, but once behold Him,\n    With the glory-crown\u00e8d hair;\n    And those eyes, so strange and tender,\n        Waiting there;\n    Open! Open! Once behold Him,--\n        Him, so fair.\n\n    Ah, that door! Why wilt Thou vex me,\n    Coming ever to perplex me?\n    For the key is stiffly rusty,\n    And the bolt is clogged and dusty;\n    Many-fingered ivy-vine\n    Seals it fast with twist and twine;\n    Weeds of years and years before\n    Choke the passage of that door.\n\n    Knocking! knocking! What! still knocking?\n        He still there?\n    What's the hour? The night is waning,--\n    In my heart a drear complaining,\n        And a chilly, sad unrest!\n    Ah, this knocking! It disturbs me,\n    Scares my sleep with dreams unblest!\n        Give me rest,\n        Rest,--ah, rest!\n\n    Rest, dear soul, He longs to give thee;\n    Thou hast only dreamed of pleasure,\n    Dreamed of gifts and golden treasure,\n    Dreamed of jewels in thy keeping,\n    Waked to weariness of weeping;--\n    Open to thy soul's one Lover,\n    And thy night of dreams is over,--\n    The true gifts He brings have seeming\n    More than all thy faded dreaming!\n\n    Did she open? Doth she? Will she?\n    So, as wondering we behold,\n    Grows the picture to a sign,\n    Pressed upon your soul and mine;\n    For in every breast that liveth\n    Is that strange, mysterious door;--\n    Though forsaken and betangled,\n    Ivy-gnarled and weed-bejangled,\n    Dusty, rusty, and forgotten;--\n    There the pierc\u00e8d hand still knocketh,\n    And with ever-patient watching,\n    With the sad eyes true and tender,\n    With the glory-crown\u00e8d hair,--\n    Still a God is waiting there.\n\n\n\n\nTHE OLD PSALM TUNE\n\n\n    You asked, dear friend, the other day,\n      Why still my charm\u00e8d ear\n    Rejoiceth in uncultured tone\n      That old psalm tune to hear?\n\n    I've heard full oft, in foreign lands,\n      The grand orchestral strain,\n    Where music's ancient masters live,\n      Revealed on earth again,--\n\n    Where breathing, solemn instruments,\n      In swaying clouds of sound,\n    Bore up the yearning, tranc\u00e8d soul,\n      Like silver wings around;--\n\n    I've heard in old St. Peter's dome,\n      Where clouds of incense rise,\n    Most ravishing the choral swell\n      Mount upwards to the skies.\n\n    And well I feel the magic power,\n      When skilled and cultured art\n    Its cunning webs of sweetness weaves\n      Around the captured heart.\n\n    But yet, dear friend, though rudely sung,\n      That old psalm tune hath still\n    A pulse of power beyond them all\n      My inmost soul to thrill.\n\n    Those halting tones that sound to you,\n      Are not the tones I hear;\n    But voices of the loved and lost\n      There meet my longing ear.\n\n    I hear my angel mother's voice,--\n      Those were the words she sung;\n    I hear my brother's ringing tones,\n      As once on earth they rung;\n\n    And friends that walk in white above\n      Come round me like a cloud,\n    And far above those earthly notes\n      Their singing sounds aloud.\n\n    There may be discord, as you say;\n      Those voices poorly ring;\n    But there's no discord in the strain\n      Those upper spirits sing.\n\n    For they who sing are of the blest,\n      The calm and glorified,\n    Whose hours are one eternal rest\n      On heaven's sweet floating tide.\n\n    Their life is music and accord;\n      Their souls and hearts keep time\n    In one sweet concert with the Lord,--\n      One concert vast, sublime.\n\n    And through the hymns they sang on earth\n      Sometimes a sweetness falls\n    On those they loved and left below,\n      And softly homeward calls,--\n\n    Bells from our own dear fatherland,\n      Borne trembling o'er the sea,--\n    The narrow sea that they have crossed,\n      The shores where we shall be.\n\n    O sing, sing on, belov\u00e8d souls!\n      Sing cares and griefs to rest;\n    Sing, till entranc\u00e8d we arise\n      To join you 'mong the blest\n\n\n\n\nTHE OTHER WORLD\n\n\n    It lies around us like a cloud,\n      A world we do not see;\n    Yet the sweet closing of an eye\n      May bring us there to be.\n\n    Its gentle breezes fan our cheek;\n      Amid our worldly cares,\n    Its gentle voices whisper love,\n      And mingle with our prayers.\n\n    Sweet hearts around us throb and beat,\n      Sweet helping hands are stirred,\n    And palpitates the veil between\n      With breathings almost heard.\n\n    The silence, awful, sweet, and calm,\n      They have no power to break;\n    For mortal words are not for them\n      To utter or partake.\n\n    So thin, so soft, so sweet, they glide,\n      So near to press they seem,\n    They lull us gently to our rest,\n      They melt into our dream.\n\n    And in the hush of rest they bring\n      'Tis easy now to see\n    How lovely and how sweet a pass\n      The hour of death may be;--\n\n    To close the eye, and close the ear,\n      Wrapped in a trance of bliss,\n    And, gently drawn in loving arms,\n      To swoon to that--from this,--\n\n    Scarce knowing if we wake or sleep,\n      Scarce asking where we are,\n    To feel all evil sink away,\n      All sorrow and all care.\n\n    Sweet souls around us! watch us still;\n      Press nearer to our side;\n    Into our thoughts, into our prayers,\n      With gentle helpings glide.\n\n    Let death between us be as naught,\n      A dried and vanished stream;\n    Your joy be the reality,\n      Our suffering life the dream.\n\n\n\n\nMARY AT THE CROSS\n\n     \"Now there stood by the cross of Jesus his mother.\"\n\n\n    O wondrous mother! since the dawn of time\n      Was ever love, was ever grief, like thine?\n    O highly favored in thy joy's deep flow,\n      And favored, even in this, thy bitterest woe!\n\n    Poor was that home in simple Nazareth\n      Where, fairly growing, like some silent flower,\n    Last of a kingly race, unknown and lowly,\n      O desert lily, passed thy childhood's hour.\n\n    The world knew not the tender, serious maiden,\n      Who through deep loving years so silent grew,\n    Full of high thought and holy aspiration,\n      Which the o'ershadowing God alone might view.\n\n    And then it came, that message from the highest,\n      Such as to woman ne'er before descended,\n    The almighty wings thy prayerful soul o'erspread,\n      And with thy life the Life of worlds was blended.\n\n    What visions then of future glory filled thee,\n      The chosen mother of that King unknown,\n    Mother fulfiller of all prophecy\n      Which, through dim ages, wondering seers had shown!\n\n    Well did thy dark eye kindle, thy deep soul\n      Rise into billows, and thy heart rejoice;\n    Then woke the poet's fire, the prophet's song,\n      Tuned with strange burning words thy timid voice.\n\n    Then, in dark contrast, came the lowly manger,\n      The outcast shed, the tramp of brutal feet;\n    Again behold earth's learn\u00e8d and her lowly,\n      Sages and shepherds, prostrate at thy feet.\n\n    Then to the temple bearing--hark again\n      What strange conflicting tones of prophecy\n    Breathe o'er the child foreshadowing words of joy,\n      High triumph blent with bitter agony!\n\n    O highly favored thou in many an hour\n      Spent in lone musings with thy wondrous Son,\n    When thou didst gaze into that glorious eye,\n      And hold that mighty hand within thine own.\n\n    Blest through those thirty years, when in thy dwelling\n      He lived a God disguised with unknown power;\n    And thou his sole adorer, his best love,\n      Trusting, revering, waited for his hour.\n\n    Blest in that hour, when called by opening heaven\n      With cloud and voice, and the baptizing flame,\n    Up from the Jordan walked th' acknowledged stranger,\n      And awe-struck crowds grew silent as He came.\n\n    Bless\u00e8d, when full of grace, with glory crowned,\n      He from both hands almighty favors poured,\n    And, though He had not where to lay his head,\n      Brought to his feet alike the slave and lord.\n\n    Crowds followed; thousands shouted, \"Lo, our King!\"\n      Fast beat thy heart. Now, now the hour draws nigh:\n    Behold the crown, the throne, the nations bend!\n      Ah, no! fond mother, no! behold Him die!\n\n    Now by that cross thou tak'st thy final station,\n      And shar'st the last dark trial of thy Son;\n    Not with weak tears or woman's lamentation,\n      But with high, silent anguish, like his own.\n\n    Hail! highly favored, even in this deep passion;\n      Hail! in this bitter anguish thou art blest,--\n    Blest in the holy power with Him to suffer\n      Those deep death-pangs that lead to higher rest.\n\n    All now is darkness; and in that deep stillness\n      The God-man wrestles with that mighty woe;\n    Hark to that cry, the rock of ages rending,--\n      \"'Tis finished!\" Mother, all is glory now!\n\n    By sufferings mighty as his mighty soul\n      Hath the Redeemer risen forever blest;\n    And through all ages must his heart-belov\u00e8d\n      Through the same baptism enter the same rest.\n\n\n\n\nTHE INNER VOICE\n\n     \"Come ye yourselves into a desert place and rest awhile; for\n     there were many coming and going, so that they had no time so\n     much as to eat.\"\n\n\n    'Mid the mad whirl of life, its dim confusion,\n      Its jarring discords and poor vanity,\n    Breathing like music over troubled waters,\n      What gentle voice, O Christian, speaks to thee?\n\n    It is a stranger,--not of earth or earthly;\n      By the serene, deep fullness of that eye,--\n    By the calm, pitying smile, the gesture lowly,--\n      It is thy Saviour as He passeth by.\n\n    \"Come, come,\" He saith, \"O soul oppressed and weary,\n      Come to the shadows of my desert rest,\n    Come walk with me far from life's babbling discords,\n      And peace shall breathe like music in thy breast.\n\n    \"Art thou bewildered by contesting voices,--\n      Sick to thy soul of party noise and strife?\n    Come, leave it all, and seek that solitude\n      Where thou shalt learn of me a purer life.\n\n    \"When far behind the world's great tumult dieth,\n      Thou shalt look back and wonder at its roar;\n    But its far voice shall seem to thee a dream,\n      Its power to vex thy holier life be o'er.\n\n    \"There shalt thou learn the secret of a power,\n      Mine to bestow, which heals the ills of living;\n    To overcome by love, to live by prayer,\n      To conquer man's worst evils by forgiving.\"\n\n\n\n\nABIDE IN ME, AND I IN YOU\n\nTHE SOUL'S ANSWER\n\n\n    That mystic word of thine, O sovereign Lord,\n      Is all too pure, too high, too deep for me;\n    Weary of striving, and with longing faint,\n      I breathe it back again in _prayer_ to thee.\n\n    Abide in me, I pray, and I in thee;\n      From this good hour, O leave me nevermore;\n    Then shall the discord cease, the wound be healed,\n      The lifelong bleeding of the soul be o'er.\n\n    Abide in me; o'ershadow by thy love\n      Each half-formed purpose and dark thought of sin;\n    Quench, e'er it rise, each selfish, low desire,\n      And keep my soul as thine, calm and divine.\n\n    As some rare perfume in a vase of clay\n      Pervades it with a fragrance not its own,\n    So, when thou dwellest in a mortal soul,\n      All heaven's own sweetness seems around it thrown.\n\n    Abide in me: there have been moments blest\n      When I have heard thy voice and felt thy power;\n    Then evil lost its grasp, and passion, hushed,\n      Owned the divine enchantment of the hour.\n\n    These were but seasons, beautiful and rare;\n      Abide in me, and they shall ever be.\n    Fulfill at once thy precept and my prayer,--\n      Come, and abide in me, and I in thee.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SECRET\n\n     \"Thou shalt keep them in the secret of thy presence from the\n     strife of tongues.\"\n\n\n    When winds are raging o'er the upper ocean,\n      And billows wild contend with angry roar,\n    'Tis said, far down beneath the wild commotion,\n      That peaceful stillness reigneth evermore.\n\n    Far, far beneath, the noise of tempest dieth,\n      And silver waves chime ever peacefully;\n    And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he flieth,\n      Disturbs the sabbath of that deeper sea.\n\n    So to the soul that knows thy love, O Purest,\n      There is a temple peaceful evermore!\n    And all the babble of life's angry voices\n      Die in hushed stillness at its sacred door.\n\n    Far, far away the noise of passion dieth,\n      And loving thoughts rise ever peacefully;\n    And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he flieth,\n      Disturbs that deeper rest, O Lord, in thee.\n\n    O rest of rests! O peace serene, eternal!\n      Thou ever livest and thou changest never;\n    And in the secret of thy presence dwelleth\n      Fullness of joy, forever and forever.\n\n\n\n\nTHINK NOT ALL IS OVER\n\n\n    Think not, when the wailing winds of autumn\n    Drive the shivering leaflets from the tree,--\n    Think not all is over: spring returneth,\n    Buds and leaves and blossoms thou shalt see.\n\n    Think not, when the Earth lies cold and seal\u00e8d,\n    And the weary birds above her mourn,--\n    Think not all is over: God still liveth,\n    Songs and sunshine shall again return.\n\n    Think not, when thy heart is waste and dreary,\n    When thy cherished hopes lie chill and sere,--\n    Think not all is over: God still loveth,\n    He will wipe away thy every tear.\n\n    Weeping for a night alone endureth,\n    God at last shall bring a morning hour;\n    In the frozen buds of every winter\n    Sleep the blossoms of a future flower.\n\n\n\n\nLINES\n\nTO THE MEMORY OF \"ANNIE,\" WHO DIED AT MILAN, JUNE 6, 1860\n\n     \"Jesus saith unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest\n     thou? She, supposing him to be the gardener, saith unto him,\n     Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid\n     him.\"--JOHN XX. 15.\n\n\n    In the fair garden of celestial peace\n      Walketh a Gardener in meekness clad;\n    Fair are the flowers that wreathe his dewy locks,\n      And his mysterious eyes are sweet and sad.\n\n    Fair are the silent foldings of his robes,\n      Falling with saintly calmness to his feet;\n    And when he walks, each floweret to his will\n      With living pulse of sweet accord doth beat.\n\n    Every green leaf thrills to its tender heart,\n      In the mild summer radiance of his eye;\n    No fear of storm, or cold, or bitter frost,\n      Shadows the flowerets when their sun is nigh.\n\n    And all our pleasant haunts of earthly love\n      Are nurseries to those gardens of the air;\n    And his far-darting eye, with starry beam,\n      Watcheth the growing of his treasures there.\n\n    We call them ours, o'erwept with selfish tears,\n      O'erwatched with restless longings night and day;\n    Forgetful of the high, mysterious right\n      He holds to bear our cherished plants away.\n\n    But when some sunny spot in those bright fields\n      Needs the fair presence of an added flower,\n    Down sweeps a starry angel in the night:\n      At morn, the rose has vanished from our bower.\n\n    Where stood our tree, our flower, there is a grave!\n      Blank, silent, vacant, but in worlds above,\n    Like a new star outblossomed in the skies,\n      The angels hail an added flower of love.\n\n    Dear friend, no more upon that lonely mound,\n      Strewed with the red and yellow autumn leaf,\n    Drop thou the tear, but raise the fainting eye\n      Beyond the autumn mists of earthly grief.\n\n    Thy garden rosebud bore, within its breast,\n      Those mysteries of color, warm and bright,\n    That the bleak climate of this lower sphere\n      Could never waken into form and light.\n\n    Yes, the sweet Gardener hath borne her hence,\n      Nor must thou ask to take her thence away;\n    Thou shalt behold her in some coming hour,\n      Full-blossomed in his fields of cloudless day.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CROCUS\n\n\n    Beneath the sunny autumn sky,\n      With gold leaves dropping round,\n    We sought, my little friend and I,\n      The consecrated ground,\n    Where, calm beneath the holy cross,\n      O'ershadowed by sweet skies,\n    Sleeps tranquilly that youthful form,\n      Those blue unclouded eyes.\n\n    Around the soft, green swelling mound\n      We scooped the earth away,\n    And buried deep the crocus-bulbs\n      Against a coming day.\n    \"These roots are dry, and brown, and sere;\n      Why plant them here?\" he said,\n    \"To leave them, all the winter long,\n      So desolate and dead.\"\n\n    \"Dear child, within each sere dead form\n      There sleeps a living flower,\n    And angel-like it shall arise\n      In spring's returning hour.\"\n    Ah, deeper down--cold, dark, and chill--\n      We buried our heart's flower,\n    But angel-like shall he arise\n      In spring's immortal hour.\n\n    In blue and yellow from its grave\n      Springs up the crocus fair,\n    And God shall raise those bright blue eyes,\n      Those sunny waves of hair.\n    Not for a fading summer's morn,\n      Not for a fleeting hour,\n    But for an endless age of bliss,\n      Shall rise our heart's dear flower.\n\n\n\n\nCONSOLATION\n\nWRITTEN AFTER THE SECOND BATTLE OF BULL RUN\n\n     \"And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven\n     and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea.\"\n\n\n    Ah, many-voiced and angry! how the waves\n      Beat turbulent with terrible uproar!\n    Is there no rest from tossing,--no repose?\n      Where shall we find a haven and a shore?\n\n    What is secure from the land-dashing wave?\n      There go our riches, and our hopes fly there;\n    There go the faces of our best beloved,\n      Whelmed in the vortex of its wild despair.\n\n    Whose son is safe? whose brother, and whose home?\n      The dashing spray beats out the household fire;\n    By blackened ashes weep our widowed souls\n      Over the embers of our lost desire.\n\n    By pauses, in the fitful moaning storm,\n      We hear triumphant notes of battle roll.\n    Too soon the triumph sinks in funeral wail;\n      The muffled drum, the death march, shakes the soul!\n\n    Rocks on all sides, and breakers! at the helm\n      Weak human hand and weary human eyes.\n    The shout and clamor of our dreary strife\n      Goes up conflicting to the angry skies.\n\n    But for all this, O timid hearts, be strong;\n      Be of good cheer, for, though the storm must be,\n    _It hath its Master_: from the depths shall rise\n      New heavens, new earth, where shall be no more sea.\n\n    No sea, no tossing, no unrestful storm!\n      Forever past the anguish and the strife;\n    The poor old weary earth shall bloom again,\n      With the bright foliage of that better life.\n\n    And war, and strife, and hatred, shall be past,\n      And misery be a forgotten dream.\n    The Shepherd God shall lead his peaceful fold\n      By the calm meadows and the quiet stream.\n\n    Be still, be still, and know that he is God;\n      Be calm, be trustful; work, and watch, and pray,\n    Till from the throes of this last anguish rise\n      The light and gladness of that better day.\n\n\n\n\n\"ONLY A YEAR\"\n\n\n    One year ago,--a ringing voice,\n      A clear blue eye,\n    And clustering curls of sunny hair,\n      Too fair to die.\n\n    Only a year,--no voice, no smile,\n      No glance of eye,\n    No clustering curls of golden hair,\n      Fair but to die!\n\n    One year ago,--what loves, what schemes\n      Far into life!\n    What joyous hopes, what high resolves,\n      What generous strife!\n\n    The silent picture on the wall,\n      The burial stone,\n    Of all that beauty, life, and joy\n      Remain alone!\n\n    One year,--one year,--one little year,\n      And so much gone!\n    And yet the even flow of life\n      Moves calmly on.\n\n    The grave grows green, the flowers bloom fair,\n      Above that head;\n    No sorrowing tint of leaf or spray\n      Says he is dead.\n\n    No pause or hush of merry birds,\n      That sing above,\n    Tells us how coldly sleeps below\n      The form we love.\n\n    Where hast thou been this year, beloved?\n      What hast thou seen?\n    What visions fair, what glorious life,\n      Where thou hast been?\n\n    The veil! the veil! so thin, so strong!\n      'Twixt us and thee;\n    The mystic veil! when shall it fall,\n      That we may see?\n\n    Not dead, not sleeping, not even gone,\n      But present still,\n    And waiting for the coming hour\n      Of God's sweet will.\n\n    Lord of the living and the dead,\n      Our Saviour dear!\n    We lay in silence at thy feet\n      This sad, sad year!\n\n\n\n\nBELOW\n\n\n    Loudly sweep the winds of autumn\n    O'er that lone, belov\u00e8d grave,\n    Where we laid those sunny ringlets,\n    When those blue eyes set like stars,\n    Leaving us to outer darkness.\n    O the longing and the aching!\n    O the sere deserted grave!\n\n    Let the grass turn brown upon thee,\n    Brown and withered like our dreams!\n    Let the wind moan through the pine-trees\n    With a dreary, dirge-like whistle,\n    Sweep the dead leaves on its bosom,--\n    Moaning, sobbing through the branches,\n    Where the summer laughed so gayly.\n\n    He is gone, our boy of summer,--\n    Gone the light of his blue eyes,\n    Gone the tender heart and manly,\n    Gone the dreams and the aspirings,--\n    Nothing but the _mound_ remaineth,\n    And the aching in our bosoms,\n    Ever aching, ever throbbing:\n    Who shall bring it unto rest?\n\n\n\n\nABOVE\n\nA VISION\n\n\n    Coming down a golden street\n    I beheld my vanished one,\n    And he moveth on a cloud,\n    And his forehead wears a star;\n    And his blue eyes, deep and holy,\n    Fixed as in a bless\u00e8d dream,\n    See some mystery of joy,\n    Some unuttered depth of love.\n\n    And his vesture is as blue\n    As the skies of summer are,\n    Falling with a saintly sweep,\n    With a sacred stillness swaying;\n    And he presseth to his bosom\n    Harps of strange and mystic fashion,\n    And his hands, like living pearls,\n    Wander o'er the golden strings.\n\n    And the music that ariseth,\n    Who can utter or divine it?\n    In that strange celestial thrilling,\n    Every memory of sorrow,\n    Every heart-ache, every anguish,\n    Every fear for the to-morrow,\n    Melt away in charm\u00e8d rest.\n\n    And there be around him many,\n    Bright with robes like evening clouds,--\n    Tender green and clearest amber,\n    Crimson fading into rose,\n    Robes of flames and robes of silver,--\n    And their hues all thrill and tremble\n    With a living light of feeling,\n    Deepening with each heart's pulsation,\n    Till in vivid trance of color\n    That celestial rainbow glows.\n\n    How they float and wreathe and brighten,\n    Bending low their starry brows,\n    Singing with a tender cadence,\n    And their hands, like spotless lilies,\n    Folded on their prayerful breasts.\n    In their singing seem to mingle\n    Tender airs of bygone days;--\n    Mother-hymnings by the cradle,\n    Mother-moanings by the grave,\n    Songs of human love and sorrow,\n    Songs of endless love and rest;--\n    In the pauses of that music\n    Every throb of sorrow dies.\n\n    O my own, my heart's belov\u00e8d,\n    Vainly have I wept above thee?\n    Would I call thee from thy glory\n    To this world's impurity?--\n    Lo! it passeth, it dissolveth,\n    All the vision melts away;\n    But as if a heavenly lily\n    Dropped into my aching breast,\n    With a healing sweetness laden,\n    With a mystic breath of rest,\n    I am charmed into forgetting\n    Autumn winds and dreary grave.\n\n\n\n\nLINES\n\nSUGGESTED BY THE DEATH OF THE WIFE OF MOSES STUART, OF ANDOVER, MASS.\n\n\n    How quiet, through the hazy autumn air,\n    The elm-boughs wave with many a gold-flecked leaf!\n    How calmly float the dreamy mantled clouds\n    Through these still days of autumn, fair and brief!\n\n    Our Andover stands thoughtful, fair, and calm,\n    Waiting to lay her summer glories by\n    E'er the bright flush shall kindle all her pines,\n    And her woods blaze with autumn's heraldry.\n\n    By the old mossy wall the goldenrod\n    Waves as aforetime, and the purple sprays\n    Of starry asters quiver to the breeze,\n    Rustling all stilly through the forest ways.\n\n    No voice of triumph from those silent skies\n    Breaks on the calm, and speaks of glories near,\n    Nor bright wings flutter, nor fair glistening robes\n    Proclaim that heavenly messengers are here.\n\n    Yet in our midst an angel hath come down,\n    Troubling the waters in a peaceful home;\n    And from that home, of life's long sickness healed,\n    A saint hath risen, where pain no more may come.\n\n    Christ's fair elect one, from a hidden life\n    Of loving deeds and words of gentleness,\n    Hath passed where all are loving and beloved,\n    Beyond all weariness and all distress.\n\n    Calm, like a lamb in shepherd's bosom borne,\n    Quiet and trustful hath she sunk to rest;\n    God breathed in tenderness the sweet \"Well done!\"\n    That scarce awoke a trance so still and blest.\n\n    Ye who remember the long loving years,\n    The patient mother's hourly martyrdom,\n    The self-renouncing wisdom, the calm trust,\n    Rejoice for her whose day of rest is come!\n\n    Father and mother, now united, stand\n    Waiting for you to bind the household chain;\n    The tent is struck, the home is gone before,\n    And tarries for you on the heavenly plain.\n\n    By every wish repressed and hope resigned,\n    Each cross accepted and each sorrow borne,\n    She dead yet speaketh, she doth beckon you\n    To tread the path her patient feet have worn.\n\n    Each year that world grows richer and more dear\n    With the bright freight washed from life's stormy shore;\n    O goodly clime, how lovely is thy strand,\n    With those dear faces seen on earth no more!\n\n    The veil between this world and that to come\n    Grows tremulous and quivers with their breath;\n    Dimly we hear their voices, see their hands,\n    Inviting us to the release of death.\n\n    O Thou, in whom thy saints above, below,\n    Are one and undivided, grant us grace\n    In patience yet to bear our daily cross,--\n    In patience run our hourly shortening race!\n\n    And while on earth we wear the servant's form,\n    And while life's labors ever toilful be,\n    Breathe in our souls the joyful confidence\n    We are already kings and priests with thee.\n\n\n\n\nSUMMER STUDIES\n\n\n    Why shouldst thou study in the month of June\n    In dusky books of Greek and Hebrew lore,\n    When the Great Teacher of all glorious things\n    Passes in hourly light before thy door?\n\n    There is a brighter book unrolling now;\n    Fair are its leaves as is the tree of heaven,\n    All veined and dewed and gemmed with wondrous signs,\n    To which a healing mystic power is given.\n\n    A thousand voices to its study call,\n    From the fair hilltop, from the waterfall,\n    Where the bird singeth, and the yellow bee,\n    And the breeze talketh from the airy tree.\n\n    Now is that glorious resurrection time\n    When all earth's buried beauties have new birth:\n    Behold the yearly miracle complete,--\n    God hath created a new heaven and earth!\n\n    No tree that wants its joyful garments now,\n    No flower but hastes his bravery to don;\n    God bids thee to this marriage feast of joy,\n    Let thy soul put the wedding garment on.\n\n    All fringed with festal gold the barberry stands;\n    The ferns, exultant, clap their new-made wings;\n    The hemlock rustles broideries of fresh green,\n    And thousand bells of pearl the blueberry rings.\n\n    The long, weird fingers of the old white-pines\n    Do beckon thee into the flickering wood,\n    Where moving spots of light show mystic flowers,\n    And wavering music fills the dreamy hours.\n\n    Hast thou no _time_ for all this wondrous show,--\n    No thought to spare? Wilt thou forever be\n    With thy last year's dry flower-stalk and dead leaves,\n    And no new shoot or blossom on thy tree?\n\n    See how the pines push off their last year's leaves,\n    And stretch beyond them with exultant bound:\n    The grass and flowers, with living power, o'ergrow\n    Their last year's remnants on the greening ground.\n\n    Wilt thou, then, all thy wintry feelings keep,\n    The old dead routine of thy book-writ lore,\n    Nor deem that God can teach, by one bright hour,\n    What life hath never taught to thee before?\n\n    See what vast leisure, what unbounded rest,\n    Lie in the bending dome of the blue sky:\n    Ah! breathe that life-born languor from thy breast,\n    And know once more a child's unreasoning joy.\n\n    Cease, cease to _think_, and be content _to be_;\n    Swing safe at anchor in fair Nature's bay;\n    Reason no more, but o'er thy quiet soul\n    Let God's sweet teachings ripple their soft way.\n\n    Soar with the birds, and flutter with the leaf;\n    Dance with the seeded grass in fringy play;\n    Sail with the cloud, wave with the dreaming pine,\n    And float with Nature all the livelong day.\n\n    Call not such hours an idle waste of time,--\n    Land that lies fallow gains a quiet power;\n    It treasures, from the brooding of God's wings,\n    Strength to unfold the future tree and flower.\n\n    And when the summer's glorious show is past,\n    Its miracles no longer charm thy sight,\n    The treasured riches of those thoughtful hours\n    Shall make thy wintry musings warm and bright.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SHEPHERD'S CAROL\n\n\n    \"O Shepherd of Israel,\n      Thy lost flock are straying;\n    Our Helper, our Saviour,\n      How long thy delaying!\n    Where, Lord, is thy promise\n      To David of old,\n    Of the King and the Shepherd\n      To gather the fold!\n\n    \"Cold, cold is the night wind,\n      Our hearts have no cheer,\n    Our Lord and our Leader,\n      When wilt thou appear?\"\n    So sang the sad shepherds\n      On Bethlehem's cold ground\n    When lo, the bright angels\n      In glory around!\n\n    \"Peace, peace, ye dear shepherds,\n      And be of good cheer;\n    The Lord whom ye long for\n      Is coming--is here!\n    In the city of David\n      Behold him appear--\n    A babe in a manger--\n      Go worship him there.\"\n\n    They went and were bless\u00e8d.\n      Dear soul, go thou too;\n    The Saviour for them\n      Is the Saviour for you.\n    Oh, kneel by the manger,\n      Oh, kneel by the cross;\n    Accept him, believe him,--\n      All else is but dross.\n\n\n\n\nHOURS OF THE NIGHT OR WATCHES OF SORROW\n\n\nI\n\nMIDNIGHT\n\n     \"He hath made me to dwell in darkness as those that have been\n     long dead.\"\n\n    All dark!--no light, no ray!\n    Sun, moon, and stars, all gone!\n    Dimness of anguish!--utter void!--\n              Crushed, and alone!\n\n    One waste of weary pain,\n    One dull, unmeaning ache,\n    A heart too weary even to throb,\n              Too bruised to break.\n\n    No longer anxious thoughts,\n    No longer hopes and fears,\n    No strife, no effort, no desire,\n              No tears.\n\n    Daylight and leaves and flowers,\n    Summer and song of bird!--\n    All vanished!--dreams forever gone,\n              Unseen, unheard!\n\n    Love, beauty, youth,--all gone!\n    The high, heroic vow,\n    The buoyant hope, the fond desire,--\n              All ashes now!\n\n    The words they speak to me\n    Far off and distant seem,\n    As voices we have known and loved\n              Speak in a dream.\n\n    They bid me to submit;\n    I do,--I cannot strive;\n    I do not question,--I endure,\n              Endure and live.\n\n    I do not struggle more,\n    Nor pray, for prayer is vain;\n    I but lie still the weary hour,\n              And bear my pain.\n\n    A guiding God, a Friend,\n    A Father's gracious cheer,\n    Once seemed my own; but now even faith\n              Lies buried here.\n\n    This darkened, deathly life\n    Is all remains of me,\n    And but one conscious wish,--\n              To cease to be!\n\n\nII\n\nFIRST HOUR\n\n     \"There was darkness over all the land from the sixth hour unto\n     the ninth hour.\n\n     \"And Jesus cried and said, My God, my God, why hast thou\n     forsaken me?\"\n\n    That cry hath stirred the deadness of my soul;\n    I feel a heart-string throb, as throbs a chord\n    When breaks the master chord of some great harp;\n    My heart responsive answers, \"Why?\" O Lord.\n\n    O cross of pain! O crown of cruel thorns!\n    O piercing nails! O spotless Sufferer there!\n    Wert _thou_ forsaken in thy deadly strife?\n    Then canst thou pity me in my despair.\n\n    Take my dead heart, O Jesus, down with thee\n    To that still sepulchre where thou didst rest;\n    Lay it in the fair linen's spicy folds,\n    As a dear mother lays her babe to rest.\n\n    I am so worn, so weary, so o'erspent,\n    To lie with thee in that calm trance were sweet;\n    The bitter myrrh of long-remembered pain\n    May work in me new strength to rise again.\n\n    This dark and weary mystery of woe,\n    This hopeless struggle, this most useless strife,--\n    Ah, let it end! I die with thee, my Lord,\n    To all I ever hoped or wished from life.\n\n    I die with thee: thy fellowship of grief,\n    Thy partnership with mortal misery,\n    The weary watching and the nameless dread,--\n    Let them be mine to make me one with thee.\n\n    Thou hast asked, \"Why?\" and God will answer thee,\n    Therefore I ask not, but in peace lie down,\n    For the three days of mystery and rest,\n    Till comes the resurrection and the crown.\n\n\nIII\n\nSECOND HOUR\n\n     \"They laid hold upon one Simon a Cyrenian, and on him they laid\n     the cross, that he might bear it after Jesus.\"\n\n    Along the dusty thoroughfare of life,\n      Upon his daily errands walking free,\n    Came a brave, honest man, untouched by pain,\n      Unchilled by sight or thought of misery.\n\n    But lo! a crowd:--he stops,--with curious eye\n      A fainting form all pressed to earth he sees;\n    The hard, rough burden of the bitter cross\n      Hath bowed the drooping head and feeble knees.\n\n    Ho! lay the cross upon yon stranger there,\n      For he hath breadth of chest and strength of limb.\n    Straight it is done; and heavy laden thus,\n      With Jesus' cross, he turns and follows him.\n\n    Unmurmuring, patient, cheerful, pitiful,\n      Prompt with the holy sufferer to endure,\n    Forsaking all to follow the dear Lord,--\n      Thus did he make his glorious calling sure.\n\n    O soul, whoe'er thou art, walking life's way,\n      As yet from touch of deadly sorrow free,\n    Learn from this story to forecast the day\n      When Jesus and his cross shall come to thee.\n\n    O in that fearful, that decisive hour,\n      Rebel not, shrink not, seek not thence to flee,\n    But, humbly bending, take thy heavy load,\n      And bear it after Jesus patiently.\n\n    His cross is thine. If thou and he be one,\n      Some portion of his pain must still be thine;\n    Thus only mayst thou share his glorious crown,\n      And reign with him in majesty divine.\n\n    Master in sorrow! I accept my share\n      In the great anguish of life's mystery.\n    No more, alone, I sink beneath my load,\n      But bear my cross, O Jesus, after thee.\n\n\nIV\n\nTHIRD HOUR\n\nTHE MYSTERY OF LIFE\n\n     \"Let my heart calm itself in thee. Let the great sea of my\n     heart, that swelleth with waves, calm itself in thee.\"--ST.\n     AUGUSTINE'S MANUAL.\n\n    Life's mystery--deep, restless as the ocean--\n      Hath surged and wailed for ages to and fro;\n    Earth's generations watch its ceaseless motion,\n      As in and out its hollow moanings flow.\n    Shivering and yearning by that unknown sea,\n    Let my soul calm itself, O Christ, in thee!\n\n    Life's sorrows, with inexorable power,\n      Sweep desolation o'er this mortal plain;\n    And human loves and hopes fly as the chaff\n      Borne by the whirlwind from the ripened grain.\n    Ah! when before that blast my hopes all flee,\n    Let my soul calm itself, O Christ, in thee!\n\n    Between the mysteries of death and life\n      Thou standest, loving, guiding, not explaining;\n    We ask, and thou art silent; yet we gaze,\n      And our charmed hearts forget their drear complaining.\n    No crushing fate, no stony destiny,\n    O Lamb that hast been slain, we find in thee!\n\n    The many waves of thought, the mighty tides,\n      The ground-swell that rolls up from other lands,\n    From far-off worlds, from dim, eternal shores,\n      Whose echo dashes on life's wave-worn strands,\n    This vague, dark tumult of the inner sea\n    Grows calm, grows bright, O risen Lord, in thee!\n\n    Thy pierc\u00e8d hand guides the mysterious wheels;\n      Thy thorn-crowned brow now wears the crown of power;\n    And when the dread enigma presseth sore,\n      Thy patient voice saith, \"Watch with me one hour.\"\n    As sinks the moaning river in the sea\n    In silver peace, so sinks my soul in thee!\n\n\nV\n\nFOURTH HOUR\n\nTHE SORROWS OF MARY\n\nDEDICATED TO THE MOTHERS WHO HAVE LOST SONS IN THE LATE WAR\n\n    I slept, but my heart was waking,\n      And out in my dreams I sped,\n    Through the streets of an ancient city,\n      Where Jesus, the Lord, lay dead.\n\n    He was lying all cold and lowly,\n      And the sepulchre was sealed,\n    And the women that bore the spices\n      Had come from the holy field.\n\n    There is feasting in Pilate's palace,\n      There is revel in Herod's hall,\n    Where the lute and the sounding instrument\n      To mirth and merriment call.\n\n    \"I have washed my hands,\" said Pilate,\n      \"And what is the Jew to me?\"\n    \"I have missed my chance,\" said Herod,\n      \"One of his wonders to see.\n\n    \"But why should our courtly circle\n      To the thought give further place?\n    All dreams, save of pleasure and beauty,\n      Bid the dancers' feet efface.\"\n\n      .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .\n\n    I saw a light from a casement,\n      And entered a lowly door,\n    Where a woman, stricken and mournful,\n      Sat in sackcloth on the floor.\n\n    There Mary, the mother of Jesus,\n      And John, the belov\u00e8d one,\n    With a few poor friends beside them,\n      Were mourning for Him that was gone.\n\n    And before the mother was lying\n      That crown of cruel thorn,\n    Wherewith they crowned that gentle brow\n      In mockery that morn.\n\n    And her ears yet ring with the anguish\n      Of that last dying cry,--\n    That mighty appeal of agony\n      That shook both earth and sky.\n\n    O God, what a shaft of anguish\n      Was that dying voice from the tree!--\n    From Him the only spotless,--\n      \"Why hast Thou forsaken me?\"\n\n    And was he of God forsaken?\n      They ask, appalled with dread;\n    Is evil crowned and triumphant,\n      And goodness vanquished and dead?\n\n    Is there, then, no God in Jacob?\n      Is the star of Judah dim?\n    For who would our God deliver,\n      If he would not deliver him?\n\n    If God _could_ not deliver,--what hope then?\n      If he _would_ not,--who ever shall dare\n    To be firm in his service hereafter?\n      To trust in his wisdom or care?\n\n    So darkly the Tempter was saying,\n      To hearts that with sorrow were dumb;\n    And the poor souls were clinging in darkness to God,\n      With hands that with anguish were numb.\n\n      .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .\n\n    In my dreams came the third day morning,\n      And fairly the day-star shone;\n    But fairer, the solemn angel,\n      As he rolled away the stone.\n\n    In the lowly dwelling of Mary,\n      In the dusky twilight chill,\n    There was heard the sound of coming feet,\n      And her very heart grew still.\n\n    And in the glimmer of dawning,\n      She saw him enter the door,\n    Her Son, all living and real,\n      Risen, to die no more!\n\n    Her Son, all living and real,\n      Risen no more to die,--\n    With the power of an endless life in his face,\n      With the light of heaven in his eye.\n\n    O mourning mothers, so many,\n      Weeping o'er sons that are dead,\n    Have ye thought of the sorrows of Mary's heart,\n      Of the tears that Mary shed?\n\n    Is the crown of thorns before you?\n      Are there memories of cruel scorn?\n    Of hunger and thirst and bitter cold\n      That your belov\u00e8d have borne?\n\n    Had ye ever a son like Jesus\n      To give to a death of pain?\n    Did ever a son so cruelly die,\n      But did he die in vain?\n\n    Have ye ever thought that all the hopes\n      That make our earth-life fair,\n    Were born in those three bitter days\n      Of Mary's deep despair?\n\n    O mourning mothers, so many,\n      Weeping in woe and pain,\n    Think on the joy of Mary's heart\n      In a Son that is risen again.\n\n    Have faith in a third-day morning,\n      In a resurrection-hour;\n    For what ye sow in weakness,\n      He can raise again in power.\n\n    Have faith in the Lord of that thorny crown,\n      In the Lord of the pierc\u00e8d hand;\n    For he reigneth now o'er earth and heaven,\n      And his power who may withstand?\n\n    And the hopes that never on earth shall bloom,\n      The sorrows forever new,\n    Lay silently down at the feet of Him\n      Who died and is risen for you.\n\n\nVI\n\nDAY DAWN\n\n    The dim gray dawn, upon the eastern hills,\n      Brings back to light once more the cheerless scene;\n    But oh! no morning in my Father's house\n      Is dawning now, for there no night hath been.\n\n    Ten thousand thousand now, on Zion's hills,\n      All robed in white, with palmy crowns, do stray,\n    While I, an exile, far from fatherland,\n      Still wandering, faint along the desert way.\n\n    O home! dear home! my own, my native home!\n    O Father, friends! when shall I look on you?\n    When shall these weary wanderings be o'er,\n    And I be gathered back to stray no more?\n\n    O Thou, the brightness of whose gracious face\n    These weary, longing eyes have never seen,--\n    By whose dear thought, for whose belov\u00e8d sake,\n    My course, through toil and tears, I daily take,--\n\n    I think of thee when the myrrh-dropping morn\n      Steps forth upon the purple eastern steep;\n    I think of thee in the fair eventide,\n      When the bright-sandaled stars their watches keep.\n\n    And trembling Hope, and fainting, sorrowing Love,\n      On thy dear word for comfort doth rely;\n    And clear-eyed Faith, with strong forereaching gaze,\n      Beholds thee here, unseen, but ever nigh.\n\n    Walking in white with thee, she dimly sees,\n      All beautiful, these lovely ones withdrawn,\n    With whom my heart went upward, as they rose,\n      Like morning stars, to light a coming dawn.\n\n    All sinless now, and crowned and glorified,\n      Where'er thou movest move they still with thee,\n    As erst, in sweet communion by thy side,\n      Walked John and Mary in old Galilee.\n\n    But hush, my heart! 'Tis but a day or two\n      Divides thee from that bright, immortal shore.\n    Rise up! rise up! and gird thee for the race!\n      Fast fly the hours, and all will soon be o'er.\n\n    Thou hast the new name written in thy soul;\n      Thou hast the mystic stone He gives his own.\n    Thy soul, made one with him, shall feel no more\n      That she is walking on her path alone.\n\n\nVII\n\nWHEN I AWAKE I AM STILL WITH THEE\n\n    Still, still with Thee, when purple morning breaketh,\n      When the bird waketh and the shadows flee;\n    Fairer than morning, lovelier than the daylight,\n      Dawns the sweet consciousness, _I am with Thee_!\n\n    Alone with Thee, amid the mystic shadows,\n      The solemn hush of nature newly born;\n    Alone with Thee in breathless adoration,\n      In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.\n\n    As in the dawning o'er the waveless ocean\n      The image of the morning star doth rest,\n    So in this stillness Thou beholdest only\n      Thine image in the waters of my breast.\n\n    Still, still with Thee! as to each new-born morning\n      A fresh and solemn splendor still is given,\n    So doth the blessed consciousness, awaking,\n      Breathe, each day, nearness unto Thee and heaven.\n\n    When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber,\n      Its closing eye looks up to Thee in prayer;\n    Sweet the repose beneath the wings o'ershading,\n      But sweeter still to wake and find Thee there.\n\n    So shall it be at last, in that bright morning\n      When the soul waketh and life's shadows flee;\n    O in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning,\n      Shall rise the glorious thought, _I am with Thee_!\n\n\n\n\nPRESSED FLOWERS FROM ITALY\n\nA DAY IN THE PAMFILI DORIA\n\n\n    Though the hills are cold and snowy,\n      And the wind drives chill to-day,\n    My heart goes back to a spring-time,\n      Far, far in the past away.\n\n    And I see a quaint old city,\n      Weary and worn and brown,\n    Where the spring and the birds are so early,\n      And the sun in such light goes down.\n\n    I remember that old-times villa,\n      Where our afternoons went by,\n    Where the suns of March flushed warmly,\n      And spring was in earth and sky.\n\n    Out of the mouldering city,\n      Mouldering, old, and gray,\n    We sped, with a lightsome heart-thrill,\n      For a sunny, gladsome day,--\n\n    For a revel of fresh spring verdure,\n      For a race 'mid springing flowers,\n    For a vision of plashing fountains,\n      Of birds and blossoming bowers.\n\n    There were violet banks in the shadows,\n      Violets white and blue;\n    And a world of bright anemones,\n      That over the terrace grew,--\n\n    Blue and orange and purple,\n      Rosy and yellow and white,\n    Rising in rainbow bubbles,\n      Streaking the lawns with light.\n\n    And down from the old stone pine-trees,\n      Those far-off islands of air,\n    The birds are flinging the tidings\n      Of a joyful revel up there.\n\n    And now for the grand old fountains,\n      Tossing their silvery spray,\n    Those fountains so quaint and so many,\n      That are leaping and singing all day.\n\n    Those fountains of strange weird sculpture,\n      With lichens and moss o'ergrown,\n    Are they marble greening in moss-wreaths?\n      Or moss-wreaths whitening to stone?\n\n    Down many a wild, dim pathway\n      We ramble from morning till noon;\n    We linger, unheeding the hours,\n      Till evening comes all too soon.\n\n    And from out the ilex alleys,\n      Where lengthening shadows play,\n    We look on the dreamy Campagna,\n      All glowing with setting day,--\n\n    All melting in bands of purple,\n      In swathings and foldings of gold,\n    In ribands of azure and lilac,\n      Like a princely banner unrolled.\n\n    And the smoke of each distant cottage,\n      And the flash of each villa white,\n    Shines out with an opal glimmer,\n      Like gems in a casket of light.\n\n    And the dome of old St. Peter's\n      With a strange translucence glows,\n    Like a mighty bubble of amethyst\n      Floating in waves of rose.\n\n    In a trance of dreamy vagueness\n      We, gazing and yearning, behold\n    That city beheld by the prophet,\n      Whose walls were transparent gold.\n\n    And, dropping all solemn and slowly,\n      To hallow the softening spell,\n    There falls on the dying twilight\n      The Ave Maria bell.\n\n    With a mournful, motherly softness,\n      With a weird and weary care,\n    That strange and ancient city\n      Seems calling the nations to prayer.\n\n    And the words that of old the angel\n      To the mother of Jesus brought,\n    Rise like a new evangel,\n      To hallow the trance of our thought.\n\n    With the smoke of the evening incense,\n      Our thoughts are ascending then\n    To Mary, the mother of Jesus,\n      To Jesus, the Master of men.\n\n    O city of prophets and martyrs,\n      O shrines of the sainted dead,\n    When, when shall the living day-spring\n      Once more on your towers be spread?\n\n    When He who is meek and lowly\n      Shall rule in those lordly halls,\n    And shall stand and feed as a shepherd\n      The flock which his mercy calls,--\n\n    O then to those noble churches,\n      To picture and statue and gem,\n    To the pageant of solemn worship,\n      Shall the _meaning_ come back again.\n\n    And this strange and ancient city,\n      In that reign of His truth and love,\n    Shall _be_ what it _seems_ in the twilight,\n      The type of that City above.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GARDENS OF THE VATICAN\n\n\n    Sweet fountains, plashing with a dreamy fall,\n    And mosses green, and tremulous veils of fern,\n    And banks of blowing cyclamen, and stars,\n    Blue as the skies, of myrtle blossoming,\n    The twilight shade of ilex overhead\n    O'erbubbling with sweet song of nightingale,\n    With walks of strange, weird stillness, leading on\n    'Mid sculptured fragments half to green moss gone,\n    Or breaking forth amid the violet leaves\n    With some white gleam of an old world gone by.\n    Ah! strange, sweet quiet! wilderness of calm,\n    Gardens of dreamy rest, I long to lay\n    Beneath your shade the last long sigh, and say,\n    Here is my home, my Lord, thy home and mine;\n    And I, having searched the world with many a tear,\n    At last have found thee and will stray no more.\n    But vainly here I seek the Gardener\n    That Mary saw. These lovely halls beyond,\n    That airy, sky-like dome, that lofty fane,\n    Is as a palace whence the king is gone\n    And taken all the sweetness with himself.\n    Turn again, Jesus, and possess thine own!\n    Come to thy temple once more as of old!\n    Drive forth the money-changers, let it be\n    A house of prayer for nations. Even so,\n                        Amen! Amen!\n\n\n\n\nST. PETER'S CHURCH\n\nHOLY WEEK, APRIL, 1860\n\n\n    O fairest mansion of a Father's love,\n    Harmonious! hospitable! with thine arms\n    Outspread to all, thy fountains ever full,\n    And, fair as heaven, thy misty, sky-like dome\n    Hung like the firmament with circling sweep\n    Above the constellated golden lamps\n    That burn forever round the holy tomb.\n    Most meet art thou to be the Father's house,\n    The house of prayer for nations. Come the time\n    When thou shalt be so! when a liberty,\n    Wide as thine arms, high as thy lofty dome,\n    Shall be proclaimed, by thy loud singing choirs,\n    Like voice of many waters! Then the Lord\n    Shall come into his temple, and make pure\n    The sons of Levi; then, as once of old,\n    The blind shall see, the lame leap as an hart,\n    And to the poor the Gospel shall be preached,\n    And Easter's silver-sounding trumpets tell,\n    \"The Lord is risen indeed,\" to die no more.\n    Hasten it in its time. Amen! Amen!\n\n\n\n\nTHE MISERERE\n\n\n    Not of the earth that music! all things fade;\n    Vanish the pictured walls! and, one by one,\n    The starry candles silently expire!\n\n    And now, O Jesus! round that silent cross\n    A moment's pause, a hush as of the grave.\n    Now rises slow a silver mist of sound,\n    And all the heavens break out in drops of grief;\n    A rain of sobbing sweetness, swelling, dying,\n    Voice into voice inweaving with sweet throbs,\n    And fluttering pulses of impassioned moan,--\n    Veiled voices, in whose wailing there is awe,\n    And mysteries of love and agony,\n    A yearning anguish of celestial souls,\n    A shiver as of wings trembling the air,\n    As if God's shining doves, his spotless birds,\n    Wailed with a nightingale's heart-break of grief,\n    In this their starless night, when for our sins\n    Their sun, their life, their love, hangs darkly there,\n    Like a slain lamb, bleeding his life away!","title":"Religious Studies, Sketches and Poems","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":106475}