THE EFFECTS OF A SERMON.
One Sunday, contrary to his habit, Frank betook himself to one of
the country churches. He had several reasons for doing so. He wanted
to hear a French sermon; he wanted to be quiet, away from the world,
etcetera.
As he went on his way, he dropped into a none too pleasant reverie.
"What a queer animal man is," he thought; "what a study. It is true
that 'the proper study of mankind is man.'
"But, the more one meditates on humanity, the more one becomes
disgusted with its artificialness and bad taste. People flock after
trifles, they are devoid of refinement, a conjuror will have an
immense number of admirers, a third-rate music-hall will fill, even
to suffocation, while the man of genius, unless he be rich, often
remains unnoticed. He who produces most exquisite poetry, soaring
high above his fellow countrymen, carrying them out of life's dusty
ways into a pure atmosphere, dies of starvation in a garret."
He arrived at the church of St. ----. He entered the sanctuary and
seated himself in a place from which he would be able to see the
minister.
"This is a very comfortable position," he said to himself.
He began to examine the people as they took their seats. Very
different from one another were those who entered. The men took
their seats with a deal of looking round and lifting of coat-tails.
They finally settled down, drawing a deep breath as they did so, as
if the act of sitting was a prodigious effort.
Frank was, with his accustomed curiosity, examining an old woman who
trudged in, wrapped up in an enormous shawl, when a lady touched him
lightly on the shoulder. He turned round.
"Sir, this is my pew," she said, "you may go in any of those,"
pointing to the left.
"I beg your pardon," said Frank, and he hastily left his seat and
went in one of the pews which the lady had pointed out to him. Then
he remembered that in his haste, he had forgotten to take his hat
with him. He proceeded to fetch it. The lady who was occupying the
pew with her husband and daughter handed him his hat, smiling as she
did so.
"She might have allowed me to remain where I was," thought the young
man. He went on thinking: "Perhaps, they have some superstition
about worshipping in their own pew."
He fancied everyone of the countryfolks was superstitious. He
wondered if Adele believed in these things. A sudden pang passed
through him, as he thought of her. His brow clouded as he
recollected Jacques' words: "The young Miss's engaged to a young
fellow."
The minister entered the church. No one rose. No formalities of any
kind. He took his place quietly. The service began.
When the sermon came, instead of the old minister who had read the
prayers, Frank was astonished to see a young man, who, directly he
stepped into the pulpit, impressed him most favourably. He had a
very intelligent face and a cheerful countenance.
He took for his text the words of St. Paul: "Rejoice evermore."
He began: "There is a class of people, the followers of
Schopenhauer, who declare that life is not worth living.
"They say this world is almost the worst possible place we could
live in, and that, if it were a shade worse, it would be impossible
to live in it, and people would willingly end their existence. This
doctrine is called 'pessimism.'"
Frank felt very interested. Every word which the preacher said,
seemed directly addressed to him.
The young minister continued: "There is another class of pessimists
who have never thought of following this Schopenhauer, but who,
nevertheless, find life a burden and this world almost an inferno."
* * * * *
"This class of people (the pessimists) pull long faces and go about
their work sighing. They see everything turned upside down but it is
they who are cross. 'Life is not worth living,' they say, 'this
world is a miserable dwelling place;' but it is they who cause their
lives to be not worth living, who make themselves miserable."
* * * * *
"Some of them who profess to be good, do a great deal of harm to
Christianity; more than is perhaps generally imagined. People
examine them and nod their heads. 'Christianity is a failure,' they
say."
* * * * *
"Help to put down Schopenhauer's wretched doctrines. Look at the
bright side of life."
"You will meet with difficulties, but do not despond; to every
cloud, there is a silver lining."
He declared he was an optimist. He invited his hearers, one and all
to adopt the optimistic view of life, and help to bring the kingdom
of God upon earth. He pointed out the causes which should help to
make us cheerful, beautiful nature, healthy mental and physical
occupations and distractions....
He told them to remember that time would be followed by eternity; to
hopefully prepare for the life to come, and to help others to do the
same.
Once out of the church, Frank felt very much puzzled. Both the
discourse and the manner in which it had been delivered, had
impressed him. What would he do? It certainly was a matter for
consideration. Was there a silver lining to the cloud that was
floating around him? Would he hope? Would he, in spite of
everything, try and be cheerful?
When he came home, he had formed a decision. He would try. He would
answer the invitation of this young clergyman, who seemed so full of
hope and joy.
The preacher had said: If you feel--as you will feel--that you are
unable to fight unaided; pray. Frank prayed. It was not a request in
which the lips took a very active part, but he poured forth his
whole soul through his heart, to Him who could and would help those
who were unable to help themselves.
When he had finished, he felt quite equipped for the fight. For he
would have to battle.
"I must try to be cheerful, I must set aside all my gloomy
thoughts," he said to himself. "I must endeavour to change my whole
former view of the world. I feel strong. Welcome optimism. Three
cheers for optimism."
Young man, thou art a new convert, and, like every new convert, thou
art enthusiastic.