Suppose, however, that we are got beyond difficulties of this sort—that the words and particular expressions of the Scriptures are mostly clear to us. Now, take again one of our Lord's parables; say, for instance, that of the labourers in the vineyard: we read it, and find that he who went to work at the eleventh hour received as much as he who had been working all the day. This seems to say, that he who begins to serve God in his old age shall receive his crown of glory no less than he who has served him all his life. But now try the process of self-questioning: what do I think that Christ means me to learn from this? what is the lesson to me? what is it to make me feel, or think, or do? If it makes me think that I shall receive an equal crown of glory if I begin to serve God in my old age, and therefore if it leads me to live carelessly, this is clearly making Christ encourage wickedness; and such a thought is blasphemy. He cannot mean me to learn this from it: let me look at the parable again. Who is it who is reproved in those words which seem to contain its real object? It is one who complains of God for having rewarded others equally with himself. Now this I can see is not a good feeling: it is pride and jealousy. In order, then to learn what the parable means me to learn, let me put myself in the position of those reproved in it. If I complain that others are rewarded by God as much as I am, it is altogether a bad feeling, and one which I ought to check; for I have nothing to do with God's dealings to others, let me think of what concerns myself. Here I have the lesson of the parable complete: and here I find it is useful for me. But if I take it for a different object, and suppose that it means to encourage waiting till the eleventh hour—waiting till we are old before we repent—we find that we make it only actually to be mischievous to us. And thus we gain a great piece of knowledge: namely, that the parables of our Lord are mostly designed to teach, some one particular lesson, with respect to some one particular fault: and that if we take them generally, as if all in them was applicable to all persons, whether exposed to that particular fault or not, we shall absolutely be in danger of deriving mischief from them instead of good. It is true, that in this particular parable, the gross wickedness of such an interpretation as I have mentioned is guarded against even in the story itself; because those who worked only at the eleventh hour are expressly said to have stood idle so long only because no man had hired them; their delay, therefore, was no fault of their own. But even if this circumstance had been left out, it would have been just the same; because the general rule is, that we apply to a parable only for its particular lesson, and do not strain it to any thing else. Had this been well understood, no one would have ever found so much difficulty in understanding the parable of the unjust steward.

This is another great step towards the dispelling vagueness, to apply the particular lesson of each part of Scripture to that state of knowledge, or feeling, or practice in ourselves, which it was intended to benefit; to apply it as a lesson to ourselves, not as a general truth for our neighbours. And the very desire to do this, makes us naturally look with care to the object of every passage—to see to whom it was addressed, and on what occasion; for this will often surely guide us to the point that we want. But in order to do this, we must strive to clothe the whole in our own common language; to get rid of those expressions which to us convey the meaning faintly; and to put it into such others as shall come most strongly home to us. This I have spoken of on other occasions; and I have so often witnessed the bad effects of not doing so, that I am sure it may well bear to be noticed again; I mean the putting such words as "persecution," "the cares and riches of the world," "the kingdom of God," "confessing Christ," "denying Christ," and many others, into a language which to us has more lively reality, which makes us manifestly see that it is of us, and of our common life, and of our dangers, that the scripture is speaking, and not only of things in a remote time and country, and under circumstances quite unlike our own. Therefore I have a strong objection to the use of what is called peculiarly religious language, because I am sure that it hinders us from bringing the matter of that language thoroughly home to us; our minds do not entirely assimilate with, it; or if they fancy that they do, it is only by their becoming themselves affected, and losing their sense of the reality of things around them. For our language is fixed for us, and we cannot alter it; and into that common language in which we think and feel, all truth must be translated, if we would think and feel respecting it at once rightly, clearly, and vividly. Happy is he, who, by practising this early, has imbued his own natural language with the spirit of God's wisdom and holiness; and who can see, and understand, and feel them the better, because they are so put into a form with which he is perfectly familiar.

More might be said, very much more, but here I will now pause. In this world, wherein heavenly things are, after all, hard to seize and fix upon, we have great need that no mists of imperfect understanding darken them, over and above those of the corrupt will. To see them clearly, to understand them distinctly and vividly, may, indeed, after all be vain: a thicker veil may yet remain behind, and we may see and understand, and yet perish. Only the clear sight of God in Christ can be no light blessing; and there may be a hope, that understanding and approving with all our minds his excellent wisdom, the light may warm us as well as assist our sight; that we may see, and not in our vague and empty sense, but in the force of the scriptural meaning of the word,—may see, and so believe.



LECTURE XXXV.

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MATTHEW xxvi. 45, 46.

Sleep on now and take your rest; behold, the hour is at hand, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise, let us be. going; behold, he is at hand that doth betray me.

I take these verses for my text, in the first place, because some have fancied a difficulty in them, and have even proposed to alter the translation, and read the first words as a question, "Do ye still sleep and take your rest?" and because they are really a very good illustration of our Lord's manner of speaking, a manner which it is of the highest importance to us fully to understand. And, secondly, I take them as a text for the general lesson which they convey to us; their mixture of condemnation and mercy; their view, at once looking backwards and forwards, not losing sight of irreparable evils of a neglected past, nor yet making those evils worse by so dwelling upon them as to forget the still available future; not concealing from us the solemn truth, that what is done cannot be undone, yet warning us also not to undo by a vain despair that future which may yet be done to our soul's health.

First, a difficulty has been fancied to exist in the words, as if our Lord had bade his disciples to do two contradictory things: telling them, first, to sleep on and take their rust, and then saying, "Rise, let us be going." And because in St. Luke's account, when our Lord comes to his disciples the last time, his words are given thus, "Why sleep ye? rise and pray, that ye enter not into temptation:" therefore, as I have said, his words in the text have been translated, "Are ye sleeping and resting for the remainder of the time?" Now, I should not take up your time with things of this sort, where I believe our common translation to be most certainly right, were it not for the sake of one or two general remarks, which I think may not be out of place. It is a general rule, that in passages not obscure, but appearing to contain some moral difficulty, if I may so speak; that is, something which seems inconsistent with our notions of God's holiness, or wisdom, or justice; something, in short, of a stumbling-block, which we fear may occasion a triumph to unbelievers; it is a rule, I say, that in passages of this kind the difficulty is not to be met by departing from the common-received translation. And the reason of this is plain; that had not the commonly received translation in such cases been clearly the right one, it would never have come to be commonly received. Amongst the thousands of interpreters of Scripture, all, from the earliest time, anxious to remove grounds of cavil from the adversaries of their faith, a passage would never have been translated so as to afford such a ground, if the right translation of it could have been different. Such places are especially those in which the common translation needs not to be suspected: and it is merely leading us astray from the true explanation of the apparent difficulty, when we thus attempt to evade it by tampering with the translation. A notable instance of this was afforded some few years since in a new translation of some of the books of the Old Testament; in which it was pretended that most of those points which had been most attacked by unbelievers were, in fact, mere mistranslations, and that the real meaning of the original was something totally different; and, in order to show the necessity of his alterations, the writer entirely allowed the objections of unbelievers to the common reading; and said that no sufficient answer had been or could be made to them. This was an extreme case, and probably imposed only on a very few: but less instances of the same thing are common: St. Paul's words about being baptized for the dead, have been twisted to all sorts of senses, from their natural and only possible meaning, because men could not bear to believe that the superstition of being baptized as proxies for another could have existed at a period which they were resolved to consider so pure: and so in the text, a force has been put upon the words which they cannot bear, in order to remove a supposed contradiction: and all that would have been gained by the change would be, to have one instructive illustration the less of our Lord's peculiar manner of discourse, and one instance the less of the inimitable way in which his language, addressed directly to the circumstances before him, contains, at the same time, a general lesson, for the use of all his disciples in all ages.

Our Lord's habitual language was parabolical; I use the word in a wide sense, to include all language which is not meant to be taken according to the letter. Observe his conversation with the Samaritan woman; it begins at once with parable, "If thou hadst known who it was that asked of thee, saying, Give me to drink, thou wouldst have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water." And again, "Whoso drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst, but it shall be in him a well of water, springing up unto life eternal." This seems to have been, if I may venture to say so, the favourite language in which he preferred to speak; but when he found that he was not understood, then, according to the nature of the case, he went on in two or three different manners. When he, to whom all hearts were open, saw that the misunderstanding was wilful, that it arose out of a disposition glad to find an excuse, in his pretended obscurity, for not listening to him and obeying him, then, instead of explaining his language, he made it more and more figurative; more likely to be misunderstood, or to offend those whom he knew to be disposed beforehand to misunderstand and to be offended. A famous example of this may be seen in the sixth chapter of St. John; there he first calls himself the Bread of Life, and says, that whosoever should eat of that bread should live for ever: but when he found that the Jews cavilled at this language, instead of explaining it, he only added expressions yet more strongly parabolical; "Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in you:" and he dwells on this image so long, that we find that many of his disciples, bent on interpreting it literally, and, in this sense, finding it utterly shocking, went back and walked no more with him. Again, when he found not a disposition to cavil, but yet a profound ignorance of his meaning, arising from a state of mind wholly unused to think of spiritual good and evil, he neither used, as to those who wilfully misunderstood him, language that would offend them still more, nor yet did he offer a direct explanation; but he broke off the conversation, and adopted another method of instruction. Thus, when the Samaritan woman, thinking only of bodily wants, answered him by saying, "Sir, give me this water, that I thirst not, neither come hither to draw," he neither goes on to speak to her in the same language, nor yet does he explain it; but at once addresses her in a different manner, saying, "Go, call thy husband, and come hither." Thirdly, when he was speaking to his own disciples, to whom it was given to know the mysteries of the kingdom of God, he generally explained his meaning,—at least so far as to prevent practical error,—when he found that they had not understood him. Thus, when he had said to them, "Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees, and of the leaven of Herod," and they thought only of leaven and of bread in the literal sense, he upbraids them, indeed, for their slowness, saying, "Are ye also yet without understanding?" but he goes on to tell them in express terms that he did not mean to speak to them of the leaven of bread. And the words of the text are an exactly similar instance: his first address is parabolical; that is, it is not meant to be taken to the letter; "Sleep on now, and take your rest," meaning, "Ye can now do me no good by watching, for the time is past, and he who betrayed me is at hand; ye might as well sleep on now and take your rest, for I need not try you any longer." But, as the time was really pressing, and there was a possibility that they might have misunderstood his words, and have really continued to sleep, he immediately added in different language, "Rise, let us be going; behold, he is at hand that doth betray me." We must be prepared, then, to find that our Lord's language, not only to the Jews at large, but even to his own disciples, is commonly parabolical; the worst interpretation which we can give to it is commonly the literal one. His conversation with his disciples, just before he went out to the garden of Gethsemane, as recorded in the thirteenth, and following chapters of St. John, is a most striking proof of this. If any one looks through them, he will find how many are the comparisons, and figurative manners of speaking, which abound in them, and how often his disciples were at a loss to understand his meaning, And he himself declares this, for, at the end of the sixteenth chapter, he says expressly, "These things I have spoken unto you in proverbs;"—that is, language not to be taken according to the letter;—"the time is coming when I will no more speak unto you in proverbs, but will show you plainly of the Father." And then, when he goes on to declare, what he never, it seems, had before told them in such express and literal language, "I came forth from the Father, and am come into the world: again I leave the world, and go to my Father," his disciples seem to have welcomed with joy this departure from his usual manner of speaking, and said immediately, "Lo! now speakest thou plainly, and speakest no proverb: now we know that thou knowest all things, and needest not that any man should ask thee: by this we believe that thou earnest forth from God."

But let us observe what it is that he said: "A time is coming when I shall no more speak unto you in proverbs, but shall show you plainly of the Father." That time came immediately. He spoke to them after his resurrection, opening their understandings to understand the Scriptures: he spoke yet more fully, by his Spirit, after the day of Pentecost, leading them into all truth. And what they thus heard in the ear, they proclaimed, according to his bidding, upon the house-tops. When the Holy Spirit brought to their remembrance all that he had said to them, and gave their minds a spiritual judgment, to compare what they thus had brought before them, to see his words in their true light and their true bearings, comparing spiritual things with spiritual, they were no niggards of this heavenly treasure; nor did they, according to the vain heresy of the worst corrupters of Christ's gospel, imitate and surpass that sin which they had so heavily judged in Ananias. They kept back no part-of that which they professed and were commanded to lay wholly and entirely at the feet of God's church. They did not so lie to the Holy Ghost, as to erect a wicked system of priestcraft in the place of that holy gospel of which they were ministers. They had no reserve of a secret doctrine for themselves and a chosen few, keeping in their own hands the key of knowledge, and opening only half of the door; but as they had freely received, so they freely gave; all that they knew, they taught to all: and so, through their blessed teaching, we too can understand our Lord's words as they were taught to understand them: and what is parabolical, is no longer on that account obscure, but full of light and of beauty, fulfilling the end for which it was chosen, the most effective of all ways of teaching, because the liveliest.

I have left myself but little space to touch upon the second part of the subject—the general lesson conveyed in our Lord's-words to his disciples: "Sleep on now, and take your rest.—Rise; let us be going." How truly do we deserve the reproof; how thankfully may we accept the call. We have forfeited many opportunities which we would in vain recover; we have been careless when we should have been watchful; and that for which we should have watched, is now lost by our neglect; and it is no good to watch for it any more. Let us remember this, while it is called to-day; for how often is it particularly applicable to us here, from the passing nature of your stay amongst us! To both you and us too often belongs our Lord's remonstrance, "What, could ye not watch with me one hour?" So short a time as you stay here, could we not be watching with Christ that little period: from which, if well improved, there might spring forth a fruit so lasting? But, alas! we too often sleep it away: we do not all that we might do, nor do you; evil grows instead of good, till the time is past, and you leave us; and we may as well sleep on, and take our rest, so far as all that particular good was concerned—the improvement, namely, of your time at this place, for which we are alike set to watch. But are we to take the words of reproach literally? May we really sleep on, and take our rest? Oh vain and wilful folly, so to misunderstand! But, lest we should misunderstand, let us hear our Lord's next words: "Rise; let us be going," and that instantly: the time and opportunity already lost for ever is far more than enough.—"Rise; let us be going:" so Christ calls us; for he has still other work for us to do, for him, and with him. The future is yet our own, though the past be lost. We have sinned greatly and irreparably; but let us not do so yet again: other opportunities are afforded us; the disciples would not watch with him in the garden, but he calls them to go with him to his trial and his judgment; and one, we know, watched by him even on his cross:—so he calls to us; so he calls now; but he will not so call for ever. There will be a time when we might strike out the words, "Rise; let us be going;" they will concern us then no more. It is only said, "Sleep on now, and take your rest: all your watching time has been wasted, and you can now watch no more;" there remains only to sleep—to sleep that last sleep, from which we shall then never wake to God and happiness, but in which we shall be awake for ever to sin and to misery.



LECTURE XXXVI.

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2 CORINTHIANS v. 17, 18.

Old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new: and all things are of God, who hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ.

I have, from time to time, spoken of that foolish misuse of the Scriptures, by which any one opening the volume of the Bible at random, and taking the first words which he finds, straightway applies them either to himself or to his neighbour; and then boasts that he has the word of God on his side, and that whosoever differs from him, is disputing and despising the word of God. The most extreme instances of this way of proceeding are so absurd, that they could not be noticed in this place becomingly; and these, of course, stand palpable to all, except to those who have allowed themselves to fall into them. But far short of these manifest follies, great errors have been maintained on general points, and great mistakes, whether of over presumption or of over fear, have been committed as to men's particular state, by quoting Scripture unadvisedly; by taking hold of its words to the neglect or actual violation of its spirit and real meaning. This is a great and a very common mischief, but yet there is a truth at the bottom of the error; it is true, that the greatest questions relating to God and to ourselves, may find their answer in the Scriptures; it is true, that if we search for this answer wisely we may surely find it.

Consider the words of the text, and see how easily they may be perverted, if with no more ado we take them, as said of ourselves, each individually, and as containing to each of us a statement positive of truth. "Old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new." If we believe that this is God's word respecting each of us, what violence must we do to our memory of the past, and our consciousness of the present, if we do try to persuade ourselves that so total a change has taken place in each of us, that what we once were, we are no longer; that what we are, we once were not; and this not in some few particular points, but in the main character of our minds. Again, "All things are of God, who hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ." If we apply these words to each of us, what exceeding presumption would they breed! If all things in us and about us are now of God, what room can there be for sin? If God hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ, what room can there be for fear or for danger? And thus, while we say we are quoting and believing the word of God, we do in fact turn it into a lie; we make it assert a falsehood as to our past state, and a falsehood as to our future state; we make it say, that our old nature is passed away, when it is not; that we have got a new nature when we have not; that we are reconciled to God, and therefore in safety, when we are, in fact, in the extremest danger.

But it is easy to see that we have no right to apply to ourselves words written by St. Paul eighteen hundred years ago, and applied by him to other persons. I go, then, farther; and I say, that if every member of the church of Corinth, to which they were written, had applied them to himself in the manner which I have shown above, the words would in many instances have been perverted no less, and would have been made to state what was false, and not what was true. And the same may be said of many other passages of St. Paul's Epistles, which, having been similarly misinterpreted, have furnished matter for endless controversies, and on which opposite theories of doctrine have been fondly raised, each of them alike unchristian and untrue.

Thus our present position is this:—that oftentimes by taking the representations of Scripture as true in fact, whether of ourselves or of others, we come to conclusions at once false and mischievous; being, as the case may be, either presumptuous, or fearful, or uncharitable, and claiming for each of these faults the sanction of the word of God.

A similar mistake in interpreting human compositions, has led to faults of another kind. Assuming as before, in interpreting St. Paul's words, that the language of our Liturgy is meant to describe, as a matter of fact, the actual feelings and condition of those who use it, or for whom it is used; and seeing manifestly that these feelings and condition do not agree with the words; we do not here, as with the Scripture, do violence to our common sense and conscience, by insisting upon it that we agree with the words, but we find fault with the words as being at variance with the matter of fact. Some say that the language of the General Confession is too strong a statement of sin; that the language of the Communion Service, of the Baptismal Service, and above all, of the Burial Service, is too full of encouragement and of assurance; that men are not all so bad as to require the one, 'nor so good as to deserve the other; that in both cases it should be lowered, to agree with the actual condition of those who use it.

Now it is worthy of notice, at any rate, that the self-same rule of interpretation applied to the Scripture and the Liturgy is found to suit with neither. We adhere positively to our rule: and thus, as we hold the words of Scripture sacred, we force common sense and conscience to make the facts agree with them; but not having the same respect for the words of the Liturgy, we complain of them as faulty and requiring alteration, because they do not agree with the facts.

I will not enter into the question whether the Liturgy has done wisely or not in thus imitating the Scripture; but I do contend that, in point of fact, there is this resemblance between them. St. Paul's Epistles, in particular, although it is true of other parts of the Scripture also, contain, as does the Liturgy of our Church, a great many passages which, if taken either universally or even generally as containing a matter of fact, will lead us into certain error. Is it, therefore, so very certain that we do wisely in so interpreting them?

With regard to our Liturgy I need not follow up the question now; but with regard to St. Paul, it is certain that he, in many parts of his Epistles, chooses to represent that which ought to be as that which actually was: he chooses to regard those to whom he is writing as being in all respects true Christians, as being worthy of their privileges, as answering to what God had done to them, as forming a church really inhabited by the Holy Spirit, and therefore being a true and living body of due proportions to Christ its Divine head. Nor does he trust exclusively to the common sense and conscience of those to whom he was writing to interpret his language correctly. He might Lave thought indeed that if he wrote to them as redeemed, justified, sanctified, as having all things new, as being the children of God, and the heirs of God, and the temples of the Holy Ghost, any individual who felt that he was none of these things, that sin was still mighty within him, and that he was sin's slave, would neither deny his own conscience, nor yet call St. Paul a deceiver; but would read in the difference between St. Paul's description of him and the reality, the exact measure of his own sin, and need of repentance and watchfulness. But he does not rely on this only: he notices sins as actually existing; he mingles the language of reproof and of anxiety, so as to make it quite clear that he did not mean his descriptions of their holiness and blessedness to apply to them all necessarily; he knew full well that they did not: but yet he knew also that, considering what God had done for them, it was monstrous that they should not be truly applicable.

But why then, you will say, did he use such language? why did he call men forgiven, redeemed, saved, justified, sanctified?—he uses all these terms often as applicable generally to those to whom he was writing;—why did he call them so, when in fact they were not so? He called them so for the same reason which, made prophecy foretell blessings upon Israel of old, and on the Christian church afterwards, which were fulfilled on neither:—in order to declare, and keep ever before us, what God has done and is willing to do for us: what he fain would do for us, if we would but suffer him; what divine powers are offered to us, and we will not use them; what divine happiness is designed for us, and we will not enter into it. Let us ponder all the magnificence of the scriptural language,—the words of the text for example, not as describing what we are when we are full of sin; nor yet as mere exaggerated language, which must be brought down to the level of our present reality. Let us consider it as containing the words of truth and soberness; not one jot or one tittle needs to be abated; it must not be lowered to us, but we rather raised to it. It is a truth, it is the word of God, it is the seal of our assurance: it is that which good men of old would have welcomed with the deepest joy; which, to good men now is a source of comfort unspeakable. For it tells us that God has done for us, is doing, will do, all that we need; it tells us that the price of our redemption has been paid, the kingdom of heaven has been set open, the power to walk as God's children has been given: that so far as God is concerned we are redeemed, we are saved, we are sanctified; it is but our own fault merely that we are not all of these actually and surely.

This is not a little matter to be persuaded of; if it be true, as I fear it is, that too many of us do not love God, is it not quite as true that we cannot believe that God loves us? Have we any thing like a distinct sense of the words of St. John, "We love God because he first loved us?" We believe in the love of our earthly friends; those who have so lately left their homes have no manner of doubt that their parents are interested in their welfare, though absent; that they will often think of them; and that, as far as it is possible at a distance from them, they are watching over their good, and anxious to promote it. The very name home implies all this; it implies that it is a place where those live who love us; and I do not question that the consciousness of possessing this love does, amidst all your faults and forgetfulnesses, rise not unfrequently within your minds, and restrain you from making yourselves altogether unworthy of it. Now, I say, that the words of the text, and hundreds of similar passages, are our assurance, if we would but believe them, that we have another home and another parent, by whom we are loved constantly and earnestly, who has done far more for us than our earthly parents can do. I grant that it is hard to believe this really; so infinite is the distance between God and us, that we cannot fancy that he cares for us; he may make laws for a world, or for a system, but what can he think or feel for us? It is, indeed, a thought absolutely overpowering to the mind; it may well seem incredible to us, judging either from our own littleness or our own forgetfulness; so hard as we find it to think enough of those to whom we are most nearly bound, how can the Most High. God think of us? But if there be any one particle of truth in Christianity, we are warranted in saying that God does love us; strange as it may seem, He, whom neither word nor thought of created being can compass; He, who made us and ten thousand worlds, loves each one of us individually; "the very hairs of our heads are all numbered." He so loved us, that he gave his only-begotten Son to die for us; and St. Paul well asks, "He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, will he not also with him freely give us all things?"

Believe me, you could have no better charm to keep you safe through, the temptations of the coming half year, than this most true persuasion that God loves you. The oldest and the youngest of us may alike repeat to himself the blessed words, "God loves me;" "God loves me; God has redeemed me: God would dwell in my heart, that I might dwell in him: God has placed me in his church, has made me a member of Christ his own Son, has made me an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven." I might multiply words, but that one little sentence is, perhaps, more than all, "God loves me." Oh that you would believe him when he assures you of it, for then surely you would not fail to love him. But whether you believe it or not, still it is so: God loves every one of us; he loves each one of us as belonging to Christ his Son. He does love each, of us; let us not cast his love away from us, and refuse to love him in return; he does love each of us now, but there may be a time to each of us,—there will be, assuredly, if we will not believe that he loves us, when he will love us no more for ever.



LECTURE XXXVII.

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EZEKIEL xx. 49.

Then said I, Ah, Lord God I they say of me, Doth he not speak parables?

Nothing is more disheartening, if we must believe it to be true, than the language in which some persons talk of the difficulty of the Scriptures, and the absolute certainty that different men will ever continue to understand them differently. It is not, we are told, with the knowledge of Scripture as with that of outward nature: in the knowledge of nature, discoveries are from time to time made which set error on the one side, and truth on the other, absolutely beyond dispute; there the ground when gained is clearly seen to be so; and as fresh sources of knowledge are continually opening to us, it is not beyond hope that we may in time arrive infinitely near to the enjoyment of truth,—truth certain in itself, and acknowledged by all unanimously. But with Scripture, it is said, the case is far otherwise; discoveries are not to be expected here, nor does a later generation derive from, its additional experience any greater insight into the things of God than was enjoyed by the generations before it. And when we see that actually the complete Scriptures have been in the world not much less than eighteen hundred years; that within that period no other book has been so much studied; and yet that differences of opinion as to the matters spoken of in it have ever existed, and exist now as much as ever, what reasonable prospect is there, it is asked, of future harmony or of clearer demonstrations of divine truth; and will not the good on these points ever continue to differ from the good, and the wise to differ from the wise?

This language, so discouraging as it is, may be heard from two very opposite parties, so that their agreement may appear to give it the more weight: it is used by men who are indifferent to religious truth, as an excuse for their taking no pains to discover what the truth really is; it is echoed back quite as strongly by another set of persons who wish to magnify the uncertainties of the Scripture in order to recommend more plausibly the guidance of some supposed authoritative interpreter of it. But yet it ought to be at any rate a painful work to any serious mind to be obliged to dwell not only on the obscurities of God's word, but on its perpetual and invincible obscurities; and, though an interpreter may be necessary if we know not the language of those with whom we are conversing, yet how much better would it be that we should ourselves know it: nay, and if we are told that we cannot know it, that our best endeavours will be unable to master it, the suspicion inevitably arises in our minds, that our pretended interpreter may be ignorant of it also; that he is not in truth better acquainted with it than we, but only more presumptuous or more dishonest.

Still a statement may be painful, but at the same time true. There is undoubtedly something in such language as I have been alluding to, which appears to be confirmed by experience. There is no denying the fact, that the Scriptures have been a long time in the world; that they have been very generally and carefully read; and yet that men do differ exceedingly as to religious truth, and these differences do not seem to be tending towards agreement. It seems to me, there fore, desirable that every student of the Scriptures should know, as well as may be, what the exact state of the question is; for if the subject of his studies is really so hopelessly uncertain, it is scarcely possible that his zeal in studying it should not be abated; nay, could we wisely encourage him to bestow his pains on a hopeless labour?

Now, in the very outset, there is this consideration which many of us here are well able to appreciate. We read many books written in dead languages, most of them more ancient than any part of the New Testament, some of them older than several of the books of the Old. We know well enough that these ancient books are not without their difficulties; that time, and thought, and knowledge are required to master them; but still we do not doubt that, with the exception of particular-passages here and there, the true meaning of these books may be discovered with undoubted certainty. We know, too, that this certainty has increased; that interpretations, which, were maintained some years ago, have been set aside by our improved knowledge of the languages and condition of the ancient world, quite as certainly as old errors in physical science have been laid to rest by later discoveries. Farther, our improved knowledge has taught us to distinguish what may be known from what may be probably concluded, and what is probable from what can merely be guessed at. When we come to points of this last sort, to passages which cannot be interpreted or understood, we leave them at once as a blank; but we enjoy no less, and understand with no less certainty, the greatest portions of the book which, contain them. And this experience, with regard to the works of heathen antiquity, makes it a startling proposition at the very outset, when we are told that with the works of Christian antiquity the case is otherwise.

We thus approach the statement as to the hopless difficulty of Scripture, confirmed, as we are told it is, by the actual fact of the great disagreements among Christians, with a well-grounded mistrust of its soundness; we feel sure that there is something in it which is confused or sophistical. And considering the fact which appears to confirm it, I mean the actual differences between Christians and Christians, it soon appears by no means to bear out its supposed conclusion. For the differences between Christians and Christians by no means arise generally from the difficulty of understanding the Scripture aright, but from disagreement as to some other point, quite independent of the interpretation of the Scriptures. For example, the great questions at issue between us and the Roman Catholics turn upon two points,—Whether there is not another authority, in matters of Christianity, distinct from and equal to the Scriptures,—and whether certain interpretations of Scripture are not to be received as true, for the sake of the authority of the interpreter. Now, suppose for a moment, that the works of Plato or Aristotle were to us in the place of the Scriptures; and that the question was, whether these works of theirs could be understood with certainty; it would prove nothing against our being able to understand them, if, whilst we look to them alone, another man were to say, that, to his judgment, the works of other philosophers were no less authoritative; or, if he were to insist upon it, that the interpretations given by the scholiasts were always sure to be correct, because the scholiasts were the authorized interpreters of the text. No doubt our philosophical opinions and our practice might differ widely from such a man's; but the difference would prove nothing as to the obscurity of Plato's or Aristotle's text, because another standard had been brought in, distinct from their works, and from the acknowledged principles of interpretation, and thus led unavoidably to a different result.

The same also is the case as to the questions at issue between the Church of England and many of the Dissenters. In these disputes it is notorious that the practice and authority of the church are continually appealed to, or, it may be, considerations of another kind, as to the inherent reasonableness of a doctrine; all which are, again, a distinct matter from the interpretation of Scripture. One of the greatest men of our time has declared, that, in the early part of his life, he did not believe in the divinity of our Lord; but he has stated expressly, that he never for a moment persuaded himself that St. Paul or St. John did not believe it; their language he thought was clear enough, upon the point; but the notion appeared to him so unreasonable in itself, that he disbelieved it in spite of their authority. It is manifest, that, in this case, great as the difference was between this great man's early belief and his later, yet it in no way arose from the obscurity of the Scripture. The language of the Scripture was as clear to him at first as it was afterwards; but in his early life he disbelieved it, while, in his latter life, he embraced it with all his heart and soul.

It must not be denied, however, that we are here arrived at one of the causes which are likely, for a long time, to keep alive a false interpretation of Scripture, and which do not affect our interpretation of heathen writings. For most men, in such a case as I have referred to, when they do not believe the language of the Scripture, but wish to alter it, whether by omission or addition, do not deal so fairly with it as that great man did to whom I have alluded. They have neither his knowledge nor his honesty; a false interpretation is more easily disguised from them, owing to their ignorance, and they let their wishes more readily warp their judgment. Thus, they will not say as he did, "The Scripture clearly says so and so, but I cannot believe it;" they rather say, "This is very unreasonable and shocking, the Scripture cannot mean to say this;" or, "This is very pious and very ancient, the Scripture cannot but sanction this." And certainly, if men will so deal with it, there remains no certainty of interpretation then. But this is not the way that we deal with other ancient writings; and its unfairness and foolishness, if ever attempted to be practised there, are so palpable as to be ridiculous. No doubt it is difficult to convince men against their will; nevertheless, there is a good hope, that, as sound principles of interpretation are more generally known, they will put to shame a flagrant departure from them; and that those who try to make the Scripture say more or less than it has said, will be gradually driven to confess that Scripture is not their real authority; that their own notions in the one case, and the authority of the Church in the other case, have been the real grounds of their belief, to which they strove to make the Scriptures conform.

Nothing that I have said is, in any degree, meant to countenance the opinions of those who talk of the Bible,—or rather, our translation of it,—being its own interpreter; meaning, that if you give a Bible to any one who can read, he will be able to understand it rightly. Even in this extravagance, there is indeed something of a truth. If a man were so to read the Bible, much he would, unquestionably, be able to understand; enough, I well believe, if honestly and devoutly used, to give him, if living in a desert island by himself, the knowledge of salvation. But when we talk of understanding the Bible, so as to be guided by it amidst the infinite varieties of opinion and practice which beset us on every side, it is the wildest folly to talk of it as being, in this sense, its own interpreter. Our comfort is, not that it can be understood without study, but with it; that the same pains which, enable us to understand heathen writings, whose meaning is of infinitely less value to us, will enable us, with God's blessing, to understand the Scriptures also. Neither do I mean, that mere intellectual study would make them clear to the careless or the undevout; but, supposing us to seek honestly to know God's will, and to pray devoutly for his help to guide us to it, then our study is not vain nor uncertain; the mind of the Scriptures may be discovered; we may distinguish plainly between what is clear, and what is not clear; and what is not clear will be found far less in amount, and infinitely less in importance, than what is clear. I do not say, that a true understanding of the Scriptures will settle at once all religious differences;—manifestly, it cannot; for, although I may understand them well, yet if a man maintains an opinion, or a practice, upon some other authority than theirs, we cannot agree together. Nevertheless, we may be allowed to hope and believe, that in time, if men could be hindered from misinterpreting the Scripture in behalf of their own opinions, their opinions themselves would find fewer supporters; for, as Christianity must come, after all, from our blessed Lord and his apostles, men will shrink from saying that that is no truth of Christianity which Christ and his apostles have clearly taught, or that that is a truth of Christianity, however ancient, and by whatever long line of venerable names supported, which they have as clearly, in our sole authentic records of them, not taught. It is not, therefore, without great and reasonable hope, that we may devote ourselves to the study of the Scriptures; and those habits of study which are cultivated here, and in other places of the same kind, are the best ordinary means of arriving at the truth. We are constantly engaged in extracting the meaning of those who have written in times past, and in a dead language. We do this according to certain rules, acknowledged as universally as the laws of physical science: these rules are developed gradually,—from the simple grammar which forms our earliest lessons, to the rules of higher criticism, still no less acknowledged, which are understood by those of a more advanced age. And we do this for heathen writings; but the process is exactly the same—and we continually apply it, also, for that very purpose—with what is required to interpret the Word of God. After all is done, we shall still, no doubt, find that the Scripture has its parables, its passages which cannot now be understood; but we shall find, also, that by much the larger portion of it may be clearly and certainly known; enough to be, in all points which really concern our faith and practice, a lantern to our feet, and an enlightener to our souls.



LECTURE XXXVIII.

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ISAIAH v.1.

Now will I sing to my well-beloved a song of my beloved touching his vineyard.

Whatever difficulties we may find in understanding and applying many parts of the prophetical Scriptures, yet every thinking person could follow readily enough, I suppose, the chapter from which these words are taken, as it was read in the course of this morning's service; and he would feel, while understanding it as said, immediately and in the first instance, of the Jewish Church or nation, seven centuries and a half before the birth of our Lord, that it was no less applicable to this Christian church and nation at the present period. We cannot, indeed, expect to find a minute agreement in particular points between ourselves and the Jews of old; the difference of times and circumstances renders this impossible; both they and we stand, on the one hand, in so nearly the same relation to God, and we both so share, on the other hand, in the same sinful human nature, that the complaints, and remonstrances of the prophets of old may often, be repeated, even in the very same words, by the Christian preacher now.

If this be so, then the language of various parts of the service of the Church in this season of Advent ought to excite in us no small apprehension; for whilst the lessons from the Old Testament describe the evil state of the Jewish people in the eighth century before Christ, and threaten it with destruction, so the gospels for this day, and for last Sunday, speak of the evil state of the same people when our Lord was upon earth; and the chapter from which the gospel of this day is taken, contains, as we know, a full prophecy of the destruction that was, for the second time, going to overwhelm the earthly Jerusalem. We cannot but fear, therefore, that if our state now be like that of God's people of old, eight centuries before our Lord's coming, and again like their state at his coming: and if, after the first period, their city and temple were burnt, and they were carried captive to Babylon,—and again, after the second period, the city and temple were burnt again, and the people were dispersed, even to this day,—that, as the punishment has twice surely followed the sin, so it will not fail to find it out in this third case also.

And be it remembered that the people, or church of God, as such, can receive their punishment only in this world: for, taken as a body, it is an institution for this world only. We each of us, no doubt, shall have our own separate individual judgment after death; and, in the mean time, our fortunes and our character often bear no just correspondence with each other. But nations and churches have their judgments here: and although God's long-suffering so suspends it for many generations that it may seem as if it would never fall, yet does it come surely at the last; and almost always we can ourselves trace the connexion between the sin and the punishment, and can see that the one was clearly the consequence of the other. And thus our church and nation may feel their national judgments in this world quite independently of the several personal judgments which will be passed upon us each hereafter individually, when we stand before Christ's judgment seat.

I have thus ventured to bring the condition of the church as a body before our minds, although well knowing how much more we are concerned with the state of our own souls individually. Yet still the more general view is not without great use; and indeed it bears directly upon our individual state: our actions and our feelings having often a close connexion with, general church matters; and these actions and feelings being necessarily good or bad, according to the soundness of our judgment on the matter which occasions them. Besides which, it seems to me that general views, rather than what relates to particular faults, may be with most propriety dwelt on by those who have no direct connexion with the congregation which they are addressing.

In the first place, then, whenever we think of the state and prospects of Christ's church, whether for good or for evil, it is most desirable that we should rightly understand our own relations to it. "The vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel;" or, in the language of the New Testament, "Christ is the vine, and we are the branches." Men continually seem to forget that they are members of the church; citizens, to use St. Paul's expression, of Christ's kingdom, as much as ever they are citizens of their earthly country. But they speak of the church as they might speak of any useful institution or society in their neighbourhood, whose object they approved of, and which they were glad to encourage, but without becoming members of it, or identifying themselves with its success or failure. For example, they speak of the church as they might speak of the universities, which indeed are institutions of great importance to the whole country, but yet they are manifestly distinct from the mass of the community: they have their own members, their own laws, and their own government, with which, people in general have nothing to do. And so many persons speak and feel of the church, regarding it evidently as consisting only of the clergy: our common language, no doubt, helping this confusion, because we often speak of a man's going into the church when he enters into holy orders, just as if ordination were the admission into the church, and not baptism. Now, if the clergy did indeed constitute the church, then it would very much resemble the condition of the universities: for it would then be indeed a society very important to the welfare of the whole country, but yet one that was completely distinct, and which had its members, laws, and government quite apart: for men in general do not belong to the clergy, nor are they concerned directly in such canons as relate to the peculiar business of the clergy, nor does the bishop's superintendence, as commonly exercised, extend at all to them. But God designed for his church far more than that it should contain one order of men only, or that it should comprise commonly but one single individual in a parish, preaching to and teaching the rest of the inhabitants, like a missionary amongst a population of heathens. Look at St. Paul's account of the church of Corinth, in the 12th chapter of his 1st epistle to the Corinthians, and see if any two things can be more different than his notion of a church, and that which many people seem to entertain amongst us. Compare the living body there described, made up of so many various members, each having its separate office, yet each useful to and needed by the others and by the body,—and our notion of a parish committed to the charge of a single individual: as if all the manifold gifts which the church requires could by possibility be comprised in the person of any one Christian; as if the whole burden were to rest upon his shoulders, and the other inhabitants might regard the welfare of the church as his concern only, and not theirs.

But not only is the church too often confined in men's notions to the single class or profession of the clergy, but it has been narrowed still farther by the practical extinction of one of the orders of the clergy itself. Where the laity have come to regard their own share in the concerns of the church as next to nothing, the order of deacons, forming, as it were, a link between the clergy and the laity, becomes proportionably of still greater importance. The business of the deacons, as we well know, was in an especial manner to look after the relief of the poor; and by combining this charge with the power of baptizing, of reading the Scriptures, and of preaching also, when authorized by the bishop, they exhibited the peculiar character of Christianity, that of sanctifying the business of this world by doing everything in the name of the Lord Jesus. No church, so far as we know, certainly no church in any town, existed without its deacons: they were as essential to its completeness as its bishop and its presbyters.

Take any one of our large towns now, and what do we find? A bishop, not of that single town only, but of fifty others besides: one presbyter in each, church, and no deacons! Practically, and according to its proper character, the order of deacons is extinct; and those who now bear the name are most commonly found exercising the functions of presbyters; that is, instead of acting as the assistants of a presbyter, they are often the sole ministers of their respective parishes; they alone baptize; alone offer up the prayers of the church, alone preach the word: nothing marks their original character, except their inability to administer the communion; and thus, by a strange anomaly, the church in such parishes is actually left without any power of celebrating its highest act, that of commemorating the death, of Christ in the Lord's supper; and if it were not for another great evil, the unfrequent celebration of the Communion, the system could not go on: because the deacon would be so often obliged to apply to other ministers to perform that duty for him, that the inconvenience, as well as the unfitness, of the actual practice, would be manifest to every one.

Again, what has become of church discipline? That it has perished, we all well know: but its loss is the consequence of that fatal error which makes the clergy alone constitute the church. It is quite certain that men will not allow the members of a single profession to exercise the authority of society; to create and define offences; to determine their punishment, and to be the judges of each particular offender. As long as the clergy are supposed to constitute the whole church, church discipline would be nothing but priestly tyranny. And yet the absence of discipline is a most grievous evil; and there is no doubt that, although it must be vain when opposed to public opinion, yet, when it is the expression of that opinion, there is nothing which it cannot achieve. But public opinion cannot enforce church discipline now, because that discipline would not be now the expression of the voice of the church, but simply of a small part of the church, of the clergy only.

So deeply has this fatal error of regarding the clergy as the church extended itself, that at this moment a man's having been baptized is no security for his being so much as a believer in the truth of Christianity: no matter that he was made in his baptism a member of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven; no matter that at a more advanced period of his life he was confirmed, and entered into the church by his own act and deed; still the church belongs to the clergy; they may hold such and such, language, and teach such and such doctrine; it would be very improper in them to do otherwise; and he has a great respect for the church, and would strenuously resist all its enemies, but truly, as for his own belief and his own conduct, these he will guide according to other principles, as imperative upon him as the rules of the church upon churchmen. Well indeed, do such men bear witness that they are not of the church, indeed; that their portion is not with God's people; that Christ is not their Saviour, nor the Holy Spirit their Comforter and Guide: but what blasphemy is it to call themselves friends of the church! as if Christ's church could have any friends except God and his holy angels: the church has its living and redeemed members; it may have those who are craving to be admitted within its shelter, being convinced that God is in it of a truth; but beyond these he who is not with it is against it; he who is not Christ's servant, serves his enemy.

Farther, it is this same deadly error which is the root and substance of popery. There is no one abuse of the Romish system which may not be traced to the original and very early error of drawing a wide distinction between the clergy and the laity; of investing the former in such a peculiar degree with the attributes of the church that at last they retained them almost exclusively. In other words, the great evil of popery is, that it has destroyed the Christian church, and has substituted a priesthood in its room. This is the fault of the Greek church, almost as much as of the Roman; and the peculiar tenet of the Romish church, that the supreme government is vested in one single member of this priesthood, the Bishop of Rome, is in some respects rather an improvement of the system, than an aggravation of it. For even an absolute monarchy is a less evil than an absolute aristocracy; and an infallible Pope is no greater corruption of Christ's truth, than an infallible general council. The real evils of the system are of a far older date than the supremacy of the Bishop of Rome, and exist in places where that supremacy is resolutely denied. And if we attend to them carefully, we shall see that these evils have especially affected the Christian church as distinguished from the Christian religion. It is worth our while to attend to this distinction; for the Christian religion and the Christian church together, and neither without the other, form the perfect idea of Christianity. NOW, by the Christian religion, I mean the revelation of what God has done or will do for us in Christ; the great doctrines of the Trinity, the incarnation, the atonement, the resurrection, the presence of the Holy Spirit amongst us, and our own resurrection hereafter, to an existence of eternal happiness or misery. And these truths, if revealed to any single person living in an uninhabited island, might be abundantly sufficient for his salvation; if God disposed his heart to receive them, and to believe them earnestly, they would be the means of his overcoming his corrupt nature, and of passing from death unto life. But because men do not generally live alone, but with one another; and because they cannot but greatly hinder, or help each other by their mutual influence, therefore the Christian church was instituted for the purpose of spreading and furthering the growth of the Christian religion in men's hearts; and its various ministeries, its sacraments, its services and festivals, and its discipline were all designed with that object. And it is all these which popery has perverted; popery, whether in the Roman church or in the Greek church, or even in the Protestant church, for it has existed more or less in all. But even in the Roman church, where the perversion has been most complete, it has comparatively affected but little the truths of the Christian religion; all the great doctrines, which I mentioned, are held as by ourselves; the three creeds, the Apostles' creed, the Nicene, and the Athanasian, are used by the Roman church no less than by our own. Thus it often happens that we can read with great edification the devotional works of Roman Catholic writers, because in such works the individual stands apart from the Christian church, and is concerned only with the Christian religion: they show how one single soul, having learnt the tidings of redemption with faith, and thankfulness, improves them to its own salvation. But the moment that he goes out of his closet, and begins to speak and act amongst other men, then the corruption of popery shows itself. The Christian church was designed to help each individual towards a more perfect knowledge and love of God, by the counsel and example of his brethren, and by the practices which, he was to observe in their society. But the corrupt church exercises its influence for evil; it omits all the benefits to be derived from a living society, and puts forward, in their place, the observance of rites and ceremonies; knowledge and love are no longer looked to as the perfections of a Christian, but ignorance and blind obedience; not the mortifying all our evil passions universally, but the keeping them chained up, as it were under priestly control, to be let loose at the priest's bidding, against those whom he calls the church's enemies; that glorious church which he has destroyed and converted it into an idol temple, in that he, as God sitteth in the temple of God, showing himself that he is God.

To resist this great and monstrous evil, we must not exclaim against it under one of its forms only, even although that form exhibit it, indeed, in its most complete deformity; but we must strive against it under all its forms, remembering that its essence consists in putting the clergy in the place of the church; and taking from the great mass of the church their proper share in its government, in its offices, and therefore in its benefits, and in the sense of its solemn responsibilities. We speak often of church extension, meaning by this term the building new places of public worship, and the appointing additional ministers to preach the word and administer the sacraments. And no doubt such church extension is a good and blessed work, for it brings the knowledge of the truths of Christ's religion, and the benefit of his ordinances, the sacraments, within the reach of many who might otherwise have been without them. But it were a yet truer and more blessed church extension which should add to the building and the single minister, the real living church itself, with all its manifold offices and ministries, with its pure discipline, with its holy and loving sense of brotherhood. Without this, Christ will still, indeed, as heretofore, lay his hands on some few sick folk and heal them; his grace will convey the truths of his gospel to individual souls, and they will believe and be saved. But the fulfilment of prophecy; the triumph of Christ's kingdom; the changing an evil world into a world redeemed; this can only be done by a revival of the Christian church in its power, the living temple of the Holy Ghost, which, visibly to all mankind, in the wisdom and holiness of its members, showed that God was in the midst of it. It may be that this is a fond hope, which we may not expect to see realized; but looking on the one hand to the strong and triumphant language of prophecy, I know not how any hope of the advancement of Christ's kingdom can be more bold than God's word will warrant: and on the other, tracing the past history of the church, its gradual corruption may be deduced distinctly from one early and deadly mischief, which has destroyed its efficacy; so that, if this mischief can be removed, and the church become such as Christ designed it to be, it does not seem presumptuous to hope that his appointed instrument, working according to his will, should be enabled to obtain the full blessings of his promise.

And now, in conclusion, if we ask, what should follow from all that has been said? what it should lead us all, if it be true, to feel or to do?—the answer is, that considerations of this sort are not such as lead at once to some distinct change in our conduct; to the laying aside some favourite sin, or the practising some long neglected duty. And yet the thoughts which I have endeavoured to suggest to your minds may, if dwelt upon, lead, in the end, to a very considerable alteration, both in our feelings and in our practice. First of all, it is not a little matter to be convinced practically, that it is baptism, and not ordination, which makes us members of the church; that it is by sharing in the communion of Christ's body and blood, not by being admitted into the ministry, that the privileges and graces of Christ's church are conferred upon us. And most wisely, and most truly, does our Church separate ordination from the two Christian sacraments, as an institution far less solemn, and conferring graces far less important: for the difference between a Christian and a Christian minister is but one of office, not of moral or spiritual advancement, not of greater or less nearness to God. One is our master, even Christ; and all we are brethren. Words which certainly do not imply that all members of the church are to have the same office, or that all offices are of equal importance and dignity; but which do imply, most certainly, that any attempt to convert the ministry into a priesthoood, that is, to represent them as standing, in any matter, as mediators between Christ and his people, or as being essentially the channel through which his grace must pass to his church, is directly in opposition to him; and is no better than idolatry. It was by baptism that we have all been engrafted into Christ's body; it is by the communion of his body and blood that we continue to abide in him; it is in his whole body, in his church, and not in its ministers, as distinct from his church, that his Holy Spirit abides.

Thus feeling that we each are members of the church, that it is our highest country, to which we are bound with a far deeper love than to our earthly country, is not its welfare our welfare; its triumph our triumph; its failures our shame? We shall see, then, that church questions are not such merely, or principally, as concern the payment of the clergy, or their discipline, but all questions in which God's glory and man's sins or duties are concerned; all questions in the decision of which, there is a moral good and evil; a grieving of Christ's Spirit, or a conformity to him. And in such questions as concern the church, in the more narrow and common sense of the word, seeing that we are all members of the church, we should not neglect them, as the concern of others, but take an interest in them, and act in them, so far as we have opportunity, as in a matter which most nearly concerns ourselves. We feel that we have an interest in our country's affairs, although we are not members of the government or of the legislature; we have our part to perform, without at all overstepping the modesty of private life: and it is the constant influence of public opinion, and the active interest taken by the country at large in its own concerns, which, in spite of occasional delusion or violence, is mainly instrumental in preserving to us the combined vigour and order of our political constitution. And so, if we took an equal interest in the affairs of our divine commonwealth, our Christian church, and endeavoured as eagerly to promote every thing which tended to its welfare, and to put down and prevent every thing which might work it mischief, then the efforts of the clergy to advance Christ's kingdom would be incalculably aided, while there would then be no danger of our investing them with the duties and responsibilities which belong properly to the whole church; they could not then have dominion over our faith, nor by possibility become lords over God's heritage, but would be truly ensamples to the flock, the helpers of our joy, the glory of Christ.



LECTURE XXXIX.

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COLOSSIANS iii. 17.

Whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the Father by Him.

This, like the other general rules of the gospel, is familiar enough to us all in its own words; but we are very apt to forbear making the application of it. In fact, he who were to apply it perfectly would be a perfect Christian: for a life of which every word and deed were said and done in the name of the Lord Jesus, would be a life indeed worthy of the children of God, and such as they lead in heaven; it would leave no room for sin to enter. The art of our enemy has been therefore to make us leave this command of the apostle's in its general sense, and avoid exploring, so to speak, all the wisdom contained within it. Certain actions of our lives, our religious services, the more solemn transactions in which we are engaged, we are willing to do in Christ's name; but that multitude of common words and ordinary actions by which more than sixty-nine out of our seventy years are filled, we take away from our Lord's dominion, under the foolish, and hypocritical pretence that they are too trifling and too familiar to be mixed up with the thought of things so solemn.

This is one fault, and by far the most common. We make Christ's service the business only of a very small portion of our lives; we hallow only a very small part of our words and actions by doing them in his name. Unlike our Lord's own parable, where he compares Christianity to leaven hidden in the three measures of meal till the whole was leavened, the practice rather has been to keep the leaven confined to one little corner of the mass of meal; to take care that it should not spread so as to leaven the whole mass; to keep our hearts still in the state of the world when Christ visited it—"the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not;" that is, it did not take the light into itself so as to be wholly enlightened: the light shone, and there was a bright space immediately around it; but beyond there was a blackness of darkness into which it vainly strove to penetrate.

On the other hand there has been, though, more rarely, a fault of the opposite sort. Men have said that they were in all their actions of ordinary life doing Christ's will, that they endeavoured always to be promoting some good object; and that the peculiar services of religion, as they are called, were useless, inasmuch as in spirit they are worshipping God always. This is a great error; because, as a matter of fact, it is false. We may safely say that no man ever did keep his heart right with God in his ordinary life, that no one ever became one with Christ, and Christ with him, without seeking Christ where he reveals himself, it may not be more really, but to our weakness far more sensibly, than in the common business of daily life. We may be happy if we can find Christ there, after we have long sought him and found him in the way of his own ordinances, in prayer, and in his holy communion. Even Christ himself, when on earth, though his whole day was undeniably spent in doing the will of his heavenly father,—although to him doubtless God was ever present in the commonest acts no less than in the most solemn,—yet even he, after a day spent in all good works, desired a yet more direct intercourse with God, and was accustomed to spend a large portion of the night in retirement and prayer.

Without this, indeed, we shall most certainly not say and do all in the name of the Lord Jesus; much more shall we be in danger of forgetting him altogether. But supposing that we are not neglectful of our religious duties, in the common sense of the term, that we do pray and read the Scriptures, and partake of Christ's communion, yet it will often happen that we do not connect our prayers, nor our reading, nor our communion, with many of the common portions of our lives; that there are certain things in which we take great interest, which, notwithstanding, we leave, as it were, wholly without the range of the light of Christ's Spirit. There is a story told that, in times and countries where there prevailed the deepest ignorance, some who came to be baptized into the faith of Christ, converted from their heathen state, not in reality but only in name, were accustomed to leave their right arm unbaptized, with the notion that this arm, not being pledged to Christ's service, might wreak upon their enemies those works of hatred and revenge which in baptism they had promised to renounce. It is too much to say that something like this unbaptized right arm is still to be met with amongst us—that men too often leave some of their very most important concerns, what they call by way of eminence their business—their management of their own money affairs, and their conduct in public matters—wholly out of the control of Christ's law?

Now at this very time public matters are engaging the thoughts of a great many persons all over the kingdom: and are not only engaging their thoughts, but are also become a practical matter, in which they are acting with great earnestness. Is it nothing that there should be so much, interest felt, so much pains taken, and yet that neither should be done in the name of the Lord Jesus, nor to the glory of God? It cannot be unsuited to the present season to dwell a little on this subject, which has nothing whatever to do with men's differences of opinion, but relates only to their acting, whatever be their political opinions, on Christian principles, and in a Christian spirit.

First, consider what we pray for in the prayer which we have been using every week for the high court of parliament: we pray to God, that "all things may be so ordered and settled by the endeavours of parliament, upon the best and surest foundations, that peace and happiness, truth, and justice, religion and piety, may be established among us for all generations." These great blessings we beg of God to secure to us and to our children through the endeavours of parliament; if, therefore, we are any ways concerned in fixing who the persons are to be who are to compose this parliament, it is plain that there is put into our bands a high privilege, if you will; but along with it, as with all other privileges, a most solemn responsibility.

But, if it be a solemn responsibility in the sight of God and of Christ, surely the act of voting, which many think so lightly of, and which many more consider a thing wholly political and worldly, becomes, indeed, a very important Christian duty, not to be discharged hastily or selfishly, in blind prejudice or passion, from self-interest, or in mere careless good nature and respect of persons; but deliberately, seriously, calmly, and, so far as we can judge our deceitful hearts, purely; not without prayer to Him who giveth wisdom liberally to those that ask it, that he will be pleased to guide them aright, to his own glory, and to the good of his people.

Do I say that if we were to approach this duty in this spirit, and with such prayers, we should all agree in the same opinion, and all think the same of the same men? No, by no means; we might still greatly differ; but we should, at least, have reason to respect one another, and to be in charity with one another; and if we all earnestly desired and prayed to be directed to God's glory, and the public good, God, I doubt not, would give us all those ends which we so purely desired, although in our estimate of the earthly means and instruments by which they were to be gained, we had honestly differed from one another.

Now, supposing that we had this conviction, that what we were going to do concerned the glory of God and the good of his people, and that we approached it therefore seriously as a Christian duty, yet it may be well that many men might feel themselves deficient in knowledge; they might not understand the great questions at issue; they might honestly doubt how they could best fulfil the trust committed to them. I know that the most ignorant man will feel no such hesitation if he is going to give his vote from fancy, or from prejudice, or from interest; these are motives which determine our conduct quickly and decisively. But if we regard our vote as a talent for which we must answer before God that we may well be embarrassed by a consciousness of ignorance; we may well be anxious to get some guidance from others, if we cannot find it in ourselves. Here, then, is the place for authority,—for relying, that is, on the judgment of others, when we feel that we cannot judge for ourselves. But is their no room for the exercise of much good sense and fairness in ourselves as to the choice of the person by whose judgment we mean to be guided? Are we so little accustomed to estimate our neighbours' characters rightly, as to be unable to determine whom we may consult with advantage? Surely if their be any one whom we have proved, in the affairs of common life, to be at once honest and sensible, to such an one we should apply when we are at a loss as to public matters. If there is such an one amongst our own relations or personal friends, we should go to him in preference: if not, we can surely find one such amongst our neighbours: and here the authority of such of our neighbours as have a direct connexion with us, if we have had reason to respect their judgment and their principles, may be properly preferred to that of indifferent persons; the authority of a master, or an employer, or of our minister, or of our landlord, may and ought, under such circumstances, to have a great and decisive influence over us.

On the other hand, supposing again that we have this strong sense of the great responsibility in the sight of God of every man who has the privilege of a vote, we shall be exceedingly careful not to tempt him to sin by fulfilling this duty ill. Nothing can be more natural or more proper than that those who have strong impressions themselves as to the line to be followed in public matters, should be desirous of persuading others to think as they do; every man who loves truth and righteousness must wish that what he himself earnestly believes to be true and righteous, should be loved by others also; but the highest truth, if professed by one who believes it not in his heart, is to him a lie, and he sins greatly by professing it. Let us try as much as we will to convince our neighbours; but let us beware of influencing their conduct, when we fail in influencing their convictions: he who bribes or frightens his neighbour into doing an act which no good man would do for reward or from fear, is tempting his neighbour to sin; he is assisting to lower and to harden his conscience,—to make him act for the favour or from the fear of man, instead of for the favour or from the fear of God; and if this be a sin in him, it is a double sin in us to tempt him to it. Nor let us deceive ourselves by talking of the greatness of the stake at issue; that God's glory and the public good are involved in the result of the contest, and that therefore we must do all in our power to win it. Let us by all means do all that we can do without sin; but let us not dare to do evil that good may come, for that is the part of unbelief; it becomes those who will not trust God with the government of the world, but would fain guide its course themselves. Here, indeed, our Lord's command does apply to us, that we be not anxious; "Which of you by taking thought can add to his stature one cubit?" How little can we see of the course of Providence! how little can we be sure that what we judged for the best in public affairs may not lead to mischief! But these things are in God's hand; our business is to keep ourselves and our neighbours from sin, and not to do or encourage in others any thing that is evil, however great the advantages which we may fancy likely to flow from that evil to the cause even of the highest good.

There is no immediate prospect, indeed, that we in this particular congregation shall be called upon to practise the duty of which I have been now speaking; and, indeed, it is for that very reason that I could dwell on the subject more freely. But what is going on all around us, what we hear of, read of, and talk of so much as we are many of us likely to do in the next week or two about political matters, that we should be accustomed to look upon as Christians: we should by that standard try our common views and language about it, and, if it may be, correct them: that so hereafter, if we be called upon to act, we may act, according to the Apostle's teaching, in the name of our Lord Jesus. And I am quite sure if we do so think and so act, although our differences of opinion might remain just the same, yet the change in ourselves, and I verily believe in the blessings which God would give us, would be more than we can well believe; and a general election, instead of calling forth, as it now does, a host of unchristian passions and practices, would be rather an exercise of Christian judgment, and forbearance, and faith, and charity; promoting, whatever was the mere political result, the glory of God, advancing Christ's kingdom, and the good of this, as it would be then truly called, Christian nation.



NOTES.

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NOTE A. P. 5.

"But our path is not backwards but onwards"—This thought is expressed very beautifully in lines as wise and true as they are poetical:

"Grieve not for these: nor dare lament That thus from childhood's thoughts we roam: Not backward are our glances bent, But forward to our Father's home. Eternal growth has no such fears, But freshening still with seasons past, The old man clogs its earlier years, And simple childhood comes the last."

Burbridge's Poems, p. 309.

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NOTE B. P. 102.

"Some may know the story of that German nobleman," &c.—The Baron von Canitz. He lived in the latter half of the seventeenth century, and was engaged in the service of the electors of Brandenburg, both of the great elector and his successor. He was the author of several hymns, one of which is of remarkable beauty, as may be seen in the following translation, for the greatest part of which I am indebted to the kindness of a friend: but the language of the original, in several places, cannot be adequately translated in English.

Come, my soul, thou must be waking— Now is breaking O'er the earth another day. Come to Him who made this splendour See thou render All thy feeble powers can pay.

From the stars thy course be learning: Dimly burning 'Neath the sun their light grows pale: So let all that sense delighted While benighted From God's presence fade and fail.

Lo! how all of breath partaking, Gladly waking, Hail the sun's enlivening light! Plants, whose life mere sap doth nourish, Rise and flourish, When he breaks the shades of night.

Thou too hail the light returning,— Ready burning Be the incense of thy powers;— For the night is safely ended: God hath tended With His care thy helpless hours.

Pray that He may prosper ever Each endeavour When thine aim is good and true; But that He may ever thwart thee, And convert thee, When thou evil wouldst pursue.

Think that He thy ways beholdeth— He unfoldeth Every fault that lurks within; Every stain of shame gloss'd over Can discover, And discern each deed of sin.

Fetter'd to the fleeting hours, All our powers, Vain and brief, are borne away; Time, my soul, thy ship is steering, Onward veering, To the gulph of death a prey.

May'st thou then on life's last morrow, Free from sorrow, Pass away in slumber sweet; And released from death's dark sadness, Rise in gladness, That far brighter Sun to greet.

Only God's free gifts abuse not, His light refuse not, But still His Spirit's voice obey; Soon shall joy thy brow be wreathing, Splendour breathing Fairer than the fairest day.

If aught of care this morn oppress thee, To Him address thee, Who, like the sun, is good to all: He gilds the mountain tops, the while His gracious smile Will on the humblest valley fall.