If we were writing a hymn about God, should we dare to say to the things
about us—to the cattle feeding in the fields—much less to the clouds over
our heads, and to the wells of which we drink, ‘Bless ye the Lord, praise
him, and magnify him for ever?’
We should not dare; and for two reasons.
First—There is a notion abroad, borrowed from the old monks, that this
earth is in some way bad, and cursed; that a curse is on it still for
man’s sake: but a notion which is contrary to plain fact; for if we till
the ground, it does _not_ bring forth thorns and thistles to us, as the
Scripture says it was to do for Adam, but wholesome food, and rich
returns for our labour: and which in the next place is flatly contrary to
Scripture: for we read in Genesis viii. 21, how the Lord said, ‘I will
not again curse the ground any more for man’s sake;’ and the Psalms
always speak of this earth, and of all created things, as if there was no
curse at all on them; saying that ‘all things serve God, and continue as
they were at the beginning,’ and that ‘He has given them a law which
cannot be broken;’ and in the face of those words, let who will talk of
the earth being cursed, I will not; and you shall not, if I can help it.
Another reason why we dare not talk of this earth as this hymn does is,
that we have got into the habit of saying, ‘Cattle and creeping
things—they are not rational beings. How can they praise God? Clouds
and wells—they are not even living things. How can they praise God? Why
speak of them in a hymn; much less speak to them?’
Yet this hymn does speak to them; and so do the Psalms and the Prophets
again and again. And so will men do hereafter, when the fashions and the
fancies of these days are past, and men have their eyes opened once more
to see the glory which is around them from their cradle to their grave,
and hear once more ‘The Word of the Lord walking among the trees of the
garden.’
But how can this be? How can not only dumb things, but even dead things,
praise God?
My friends, this is a great mystery, of which the wisest men as yet know
but little, and confess freely how little they know. But this at least
we know already, and can say boldly—all things praise God, by fulfilling
the law which our Lord himself declared, when he said ‘Not every one who
saith to me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven: but he
that doeth the will of my Father who is in heaven.’
By doing the will of the heavenly Father. By obeying the laws which God
has given them. By taking the shape which he has appointed for them. By
being of the use for which he intended them. By multiplying each after
their kind, by laws and means a thousand times more strange than any
signs and wonders of which man can fancy for himself; and by thus showing
forth God’s boundless wisdom, goodness, love, and tender care of all
which he has made.
Yes, my friends, in this sense (and this is the true sense) all things
can serve and praise God, and all things do serve and praise Him. Not a
cloud which fleets across the sky, not a clod of earth which crumbles
under the frost, not a blade of grass which breaks through the snow in
spring, not a dead leaf which falls to the earth in autumn, but is doing
God’s work, and showing forth God’s glory. Not a tiny insect, too small
to be seen by human eyes without the help of a microscope, but is as
fearfully and wonderfully made as you and me, and has its proper food,
habitation, work, appointed for it, and not in vain. Nothing is idle,
nothing is wasted, nothing goes wrong, in this wondrous world of God.
The very scum upon the standing pool, which seems mere dirt and dust, is
all alive, peopled by millions of creatures, each full of beauty, full of
use, obeying laws of God too deep for us to do aught but dimly guess at
them; and as men see deeper and deeper into the mystery of God’s
creation, they find in the commonest things about them wonder and glory,
such as eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the
heart of man to conceive; and can only say with the Psalmist, ‘Oh Lord,
thy ways are infinite, thy thoughts are very deep;’ and confess that the
grass beneath their feet, the clouds above their heads—ay, every worm
beneath the sod and bird upon the bough, do, in very deed and truth,
bless the Lord who made them, praise him, and magnify him for ever, not
with words indeed, but with works; and say to man all day long, ‘Go thou,
and do likewise.’
Yes, my friends, let us go and do likewise. If we wish really to obey
the lesson of the Hymn of the Three Children, let us do the will of God:
and so worship him in spirit and in truth. Do not fancy, as too many do,
that thou canst praise God by singing hymns to him in church once a week,
and disobeying him all the week long, crying to him ‘Lord, Lord,’ and
then living as if he were not thy Lord, but thou wast thine own Lord, and
hadst a right to do thine own will, and not his. If thou wilt really
bless God, then try to live his blessed life of Goodness. If thou wilt
truly praise God, then behave as if God was praiseworthy, good, and right
in what he bids thee do. If thou wouldest really magnify God, and
declare his greatness, then behave as if he were indeed the Great God,
who ought to be obeyed—ay, who _must_ be obeyed; for his commandment is
life, and it alone, to thee, as well as to all which He has made. Dost
thou fancy as the heathen do, that God needs to be flattered with fine
words? or that thou wilt be heard for thy much speaking, and thy vain
repetitions? He asks of thee works, as well as words; and more, He asks
of thee works first, and words after. And better it is to praise him
truly by works without words, than falsely by words without works.
Cry, if thou wilt, ‘Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of hosts;’ but show that
thou believest him to be holy, by being holy thyself. Sing, if Thou
wilt, of ‘The Father of an Infinite Majesty:’ but show that thou
believest his majesty to be infinite, by obeying his commandments, like
those Three Children, let them cost thee what they may. Join, and join
freely, in the songs of the heavenly host; for God has given thee reason
and speech, after the likeness of his only begotten Son, and thou mayest
use them, as well as every other gift, in the service of thy Father. But
take care lest, while thou art trying to copy the angels, thou art not
even as righteous as the beasts of the field. For they bless and praise
God by obeying his laws; and till thou dost that, and obeyest God’s laws
likewise, thou art not as good as the grass beneath thy feet.
For after all has been said and sung, my friends, the sum and substance
of true religion remains what it was, and what it will be for ever; and
lies in this one word, ‘If ye love me, keep my commandments.’
SERMON V.
THE ETERNAL GOODNESS.
MATTHEW xxii. 39.
Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.
WHY are wrong things wrong? Why, for instance, is it wrong to steal?
Because God has forbidden it, you may answer. But is it so? Whatsoever
God forbids must be wrong. But, is it wrong because God forbids it, or
does God forbid it because it is wrong?
For instance, suppose that God had not forbidden us to steal, would it be
right then to steal, or at least, not wrong?
We must really think of this. It is no mere question of words, it is a
solemn practical question, which has to do with our every-day conduct,
and yet which goes down to the deepest of all matters, even to the depths
of God himself.
The question is simply this. Did God, who made all things, make right
and wrong? Many people think so. They think that God made goodness.
But how can that be? For if God made goodness, there could have been no
goodness before God made it. That is clear. But God was always good,
good from all eternity. But how could that be? How could God be good,
before there was any goodness made? That notion will not do then. And
all we can say is that goodness is eternal and everlasting, just as God
is: because God was and is and ever will be eternally and always good.
But is eternal goodness one thing, and the eternal God, another? That
cannot be, again; for as the Athanasian Creed tells us so wisely and
well, there are not many Eternals, but one Eternal. Therefore goodness
must be the Spirit of God; and God must be the Spirit of goodness; and
right is nothing else but the character of the everlasting God, and of
those who are inspired by God.
What is wrong, then? Whatever is unlike right; whatever is unlike
goodness; whatever is unlike God; that is wrong. And why does God forbid
us to do wrong? Simply because wrong is unlike himself. He is perfectly
beautiful, perfectly blest and happy, because he is perfectly good; and
he wishes to see all his creatures beautiful, blest, and happy: but they
can only be so by being perfectly good; and they can only be perfectly
good by being perfectly like God their Father; and they can only be
perfectly like God the Father by being full of love, loving their
neighbour as themselves.
For what do we mean when we talk of right, righteousness, goodness?
Many answers have been given to that question.
The old Romans, who were a stern, legal-minded people, used to say that
righteousness meant to hurt no man, and to give every man his own. The
Eastern people had a better answer still, which our blessed Lord used in
one place, when he told them that righteousness was to do to other people
as we would they should do to us: but the best answer, the perfect
answer, is our Lord’s in the text, ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbour as
thyself.’ This is the true, eternal righteousness. Not a legal
righteousness, not a righteousness made up of forms and ceremonies, of
keeping days holy, and abstaining from meats, or any other arbitrary
commands, whether of God or of man. This is God’s goodness, God’s
righteousness, Christ’s own goodness and righteousness. Do you not see
what I mean? Remember only one word of St. John’s. God is love. Love
is the goodness of God. God is perfectly good, because he is perfect
love. Then if you are full of love, you are good with the same goodness
with which God is good, and righteous with Christ’s righteousness. That
as what St. Paul wished to be, when he wished to be found in Christ, not
having his own righteousness, but the righteousness which is by faith in
Christ. His own righteousness was the selfish and self-conceited
righteousness which he had before his conversion, made up of forms, and
ceremonies, and doctrines, which made him narrow-hearted, bigoted,
self-conceited, fierce, cruel, a persecutor; the righteousness which made
him stand by in cold blood to see St. Stephen stoned. But the
righteousness which is by faith in Christ is a loving heart, and a loving
life, which every man will long to lead who believes really in Jesus
Christ. For when he looks at Christ, Christ’s humiliation, Christ’s
work, Christ’s agony, Christ’s death, and sees in it nothing but utter
and perfect _Love_ to poor sinful, undeserving man, then his heart makes
answer, Yes, I believe in that! I believe and am sure that that is the
most beautiful character in the world; that that is the utterly noble and
right sort of person to be—full of love as Christ was. I ought to be
like that. My conscience tells me that I ought. And I can be like that.
Christ, who was so good himself, must wish to make me good like himself,
and I can trust him to do it. I can have faith in him, that he will make
me like himself, full of the Spirit of love, without which I shall be
only useless and miserable. And I trust him enough to be sure that, good
as he is, he cannot mean to leave me useless or miserable. So, by true
faith in Christ, the man comes to have Christ’s righteousness—that is, to
be loving as Christ was. He believes that Christ’s loving character is
perfect beauty; that he must be the Son of God, if his character be like
that. He believes that Christ can and will fill him with the same spirit
of love; and as he believes, so is it with him, and in him those words
are fulfilled, ‘Whosoever shall confess that Jesus is the Son of God, God
dwelleth in him, and he in God;’ and that ‘If a man love me,’ says the
Lord, ‘I and my Father will come to him, and take up our abode with him.’
Those are wonderful words: but if you will recollect what I have just
said, you may understand a little of them. St. John puts the same thing
very simply, but very boldly. ‘God is Love,’ he says, ‘and he that
dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God, and God in him.’ Strange as it may
seem, it must be so if God be love. Let us thank God that it is true,
and keep in mind what awful and wonderful creatures we are, that God
should dwell in us; what blessed and glorious creatures we may become in
time, if we will only listen to the voice of God who speaks within our
hearts.
And what does that voice say? The old commandment, my friends, which was
from the beginning, ‘Love one another.’ Whatever thoughts or feeling in
your hearts contradict that; whatever tempts you to despise your
neighbour, to be angry with him, to suspect him, to fancy him shut out
from God’s love, that is not of God. No voice in our hearts is God’s
voice, but what says in some shape or other, ‘Love thy neighbour as
thyself. Care for him, bear with him long, and try to do him good.’
For love is of God, and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth
God. He that loveth not knoweth not God, for God is love. Still less
can he who is not loving fulfil the law; for the law of God is the very
pattern and picture of God’s character; and if a man does not know what
God is like, he will never know what God’s law is like; and though he may
read his Bible all day long, he will learn no more from it than a dumb
animal will, unless his heart is full of love. For love is the light by
which we see God, by which we understand his Bible; by which we
understand our duty, and God’s dealings, in the world. Love is the light
by which we understand our own hearts; by which we understand our
neighbours’ hearts. So it is. If you hate any man, or have a spite
against him, you will never know what is in that man’s heart, never be
able to form a just opinion of his character. If you want to understand
human beings, or to do justice to their feelings, you must begin by
loving them heartily and freely, and the more you like them the better
you will understand them, and in general the better you will find them to
be at heart, the more worthy of your trust, at least the more worthy of
your compassion.
At least, so St. John says, ‘He that saith he is in the light, and hates
his brother, is in darkness even till now, and knoweth not whither he
goeth. But he that loveth his brother abideth in the light, and there is
no occasion of stumbling in him.’
No occasion of stumbling. That is of making mistakes in our behaviour to
our neighbours, which cause scandal, drive them from us, and make them
suspect us, dislike us—and perhaps with too good reason. Just think for
yourselves. What does half the misery, and all the quarrelling in the
world come from, but from people’s loving themselves better than their
neighbours? Would children be disobedient and neglectful to their
parents, if they did not love themselves better than their parents? Why
does a man kill, commit adultery, steal, bear false witness, covet his
neighbour’s goods, his neighbour’s custom, his neighbour’s rights, but
because he loves his own pleasure or interest better than his
neighbour’s, loves himself better than the man whom he wrongs? Would a
man take advantage of his neighbour if he loved him as well as himself?
Would he be hard on his neighbour, and say, Pay me the uttermost
farthing, if he loved him as he loves himself? Would he speak evil of
his neighbour behind his back, if he loved him as himself? Would he
cross his neighbour’s temper, just because he _will_ have his own way,
right or wrong, if he loved him as himself? Judge for yourselves. What
would the world become like this moment if every man loved his neighbour
as himself, thought of his neighbour as much as he thinks of himself?
Would it not become heaven on earth at once? There would be no need then
for soldiers and policemen, lawyers, rates and taxes, my friends, and all
the expensive and heavy machinery which is now needed to force people
into keeping something of God’s law. Ay, there would be no need of
sermons, preachers and prophets to tell men of God’s law, and warn them
of the misery of breaking it. They would keep the law of their own
free-will, by love. For love is the fulfilling of the law; and as St.
Augustine says, ‘Love you neighbour, and then do what you will—because
you will be sure to will what is right.’ So truly did our Lord say, that
on this one commandment hung all the law and the prophets.
But though that blessed state of things will not come to the whole world
till the day when Christ shall reign in that new heaven and new earth, in
which Righteousness shall dwell, still it may come here, now, on earth,
to each and every one of us, if we will but ask from God the blessed
gift; to love our neighbour as we love ourselves.
And then, my friends, whether we be rich or poor, fortunate or
unfortunate, still that spirit of Love which is the Spirit of God, will
be its exceeding great reward.