SERMON XL. THE LESSON OF LIFE

Fifth Sunday in Lent.

Chester Training College, 1870. Windsor Castle, 1871.

Hebrews v. 7, 8. "Who in the days of His flesh, when He had offered up

prayers and supplications with strong crying and tears, unto Him that was

able to save Him from death, and was heard in that He feared; though He

were a Son, yet learned He obedience by the things which He suffered."

This is the lesson of life. This is God's way of educating us, of making

us men and women worthy of the name of men and women, worthy of the name

of children of God. As Christ learnt, so must we. If it was necessary

for Him who know no sin, how much more for us who have sins enough and to

spare. Though He was the eternal Son of God, yet He learnt obedience by

the things which He suffered. Though we are God's adopted children, we

must learn obedience by what we suffer. He had to offer up prayer with

strong crying. So shall we have to do again and again before we die. He

was heard in that He feared God, and said, "Father not my will, but Thine

be done." And so shall we. He was perfected by sufferings. God grant

that we may be so likewise. He had to do like us. God grant that we may

do like Him.

God grant it. That is all I can say. I cannot be sure of it, for myself

or for any of you. I can only hope, and trust in God. Life is hard

work--any life at least which is worth being called life, which is not

the life of a swine, who thinks of nothing but feeding himself, or of a

butterfly which thinks of nothing but enjoying itself. Those are easy

lives enough: but the end thereof is death. The swine goes to the

slaughter. The butterfly dies of the frost--and there is an end of them.

But the manly life, the life of good deeds and noble thoughts, and

usefulness, and purity, the life which is discontented with itself, and

which the better it is, longs the more to be better still; the life which

will endure through this world into the world to come, and on and upward

for ever and for ever.--That life is not an easy life to live; it is very

often not a pleasant life; very often a sad life--so sad that that is

true of it which the great poet says--

"Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate,

Who never in the midnight hours

Sat weeping on his lonely bed,

He knows you not, you Heavenly Powers."

You may say this is bad news. I do not believe it is. I believe it is

good news, and the very best of news: but if it is bad news, I cannot

help it. I did not make it so. God made it so. And God must know best.

God is love. And we are His children, and He loves us. And therefore

His ways with us must be good and loving ways, and any news about them

must be good news, and a gospel, though we cannot see it so at first.

In any case, if it is so, it is better to remember that it is so. And

Lent, and Passion Week, and Good Friday are meant to put us in mind of it

year by year, because we are all of us only too ready to forget it, and

shut our eyes to it. Lent and Passion Week, I say, are meant to put us

in mind. And the preacher is bound to put you in mind of it now and

then. He is bound, not too often perhaps, lest he should discourage

young hearts, but now and then, to put you in mind of the old Greek

proverb, the very words of which St. Paul uses in the text, that ta

pa??æata æa??æata--sorrows are lessons; and that the most truly pitiable

people often are those who have no sorrows, and ask for no man's pity.

For so it is. The very worst calamity, I should say, which could befall

any human being would be this--To have his own way from his cradle to his

grave; to have everything he liked for the asking, or even for the

buying; never to be forced to say, "I should like that: but I cannot

afford it. I should like this: but I must not do it"--Never to deny

himself, never to exert himself, never to work, and never to want. That

man's soul would be in as great danger as if he were committing great

crimes. Indeed, he would very probably before he died commit great

crimes--like certain negroes whom I have seen abroad, who live a life of

such lazy comfort and safety, and superabundance of food, that they are

beginning more and more to live the life of animals rather than men.

They are like those of whom the Psalmist says, "Their eyes swell out with

fatness, and they do even what they lust." So do they, and indulge in

gross vices, which, if not checked in some way, will end in destroying

them off the face of the earth in a few generations more. I had rather,

for the sake of my character, my manhood, my immortal soul, I had rather,

I say, a hundred times over, be an English labourer, struggling on on

twelve shillings a week, and learning obedience, self-denial, self-

respect, and trust in God, by the things suffered in that hard life here

at home, than be a Negro in Tropic islands, fattening himself in sloth

under that perpetual sunshine, and thinking nought of God, because, poor

fool, he can get all he wants without God's help.

No, my dear young friends, this is good for a man. It is necessary for a

man, if he is to be a man and a child of God, and not a mere animal, to

have to work hard whether he likes or not. It is good for a man to bear

the yoke in his youth, as Jeremiah told the Jews, when, because they

would not bear God's light yoke in their youth, but ran riot into luxury

and wantonness, and superstition and idolatry which come thereof, they

had to bear the heavy yoke of the Babylonish captivity in their old age.

It is good for a man to be checked, crossed, disappointed, made to feel

his own ignorance, weakness, folly; made to feel his need of God; to feel

that, in spite of all his cunning and self-confidence, he is no better

off in this world than a lost child in a dark forest, unless he has a

Father in Heaven, who loves him with an eternal love, and a Holy Spirit

in Heaven, who will give him a right judgment in all things; who will put

into his mind good desires, and enable him to bring those desires to good

effect; and a Saviour in Heaven who can be touched with the feeling of

his infirmities, because He too was made perfect by sufferings; He too

was tempted in all points like as we are, yet without sin.

And, therefore, my dear friends, those words which we read in the

Visitation of the Sick about this matter are not mere kind words, meant

to give comfort for the moment. They are truth and fact and sound

philosophy. They are as true for the young lad in health and spirits as

for the old folk crawling towards their graves. It is true, and you will

find it true, that sickness and all sorts of troubles, are sent to

correct and amend in us whatever doth offend the eyes of our Heavenly

Father. It is true, and you will find it true, that whom the Lord loveth

He chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom He receiveth. It is true,

and you will find it true (though God knows it is a difficult lesson

enough to learn), that there should be no greater comfort to Christian

persons, than to be made like Christ, by suffering patiently not only the

hard work of every-day life, but adversities, troubles, and sicknesses,

and our Heavenly Father's correction, whensoever, by any manner of

adversity, it shall please His gracious goodness to visit them. For

Christ Himself went not up to joy, but first He suffered pain; He entered

not into His glory, before He was crucified.

So truly our way to eternal joy is to labour and to suffer here with

Christ. It is true, and you will find it true, when years hence you look

back, as I trust you all will, calmly and intelligently, on the events of

your own lives--you will find, I say, that the very events in your lives

which seemed at the time most trying, most vexing, most disastrous, have

been those which wore most necessary for you, to call out what was good

in you, and to purge out what was bad; that by those very troubles your

Lord, who knows the value of suffering, because He has suffered Himself,

was making true men, true women of you; hardening your heads, while He

softened your hearts; teaching you to obey Him, while He taught you not

to obey your own fancies and your own passions; refining and tempering

your characters in the furnace of trial, as the smith refines soft iron

into trusty steel; teaching you, as the great poet says--

"That life is not as idle ore,

But heated hot with burning fears,

And bathed in baths of hissing tears,

And battered with the strokes of doom,

To shape and use."

Yes, you will learn that, and more than that, and say in peace--"Before I

was troubled I went wrong, but now have I kept thy commandments." And to

such an old age may our Lord Jesus Christ bring you and me and all we

love. Amen.

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