Beauty Evolved from Chaos--Future Capacity of Motion--Gleams of the
Invisible--Changing into the Divine Image--Crying Out for God--From
Barrenness to Beauty--The Glow of the Firefly--The Effulgent Divinity
--Sunset on the Prairie--Universal Sense of Beauty--Guardian Angels
--Death as Seen from This Side and That--Sunset on the Yellowstone
River--A Drop of Dew--Reality of Heaven--The Literal and the
figurative--The Spiritual Body--Expanding Glory of Creation--Sunset
in Dakota--Lights Dim and Clear--Christ's Unsullied Purity--A Rent in
the Cloud--An Imprisoned Lark.
We have been dealing with matters that are related chiefly to the next
life. But let us not forget that such matters have a close relation to
us now. There can be no doubt that there are correspondences between
this world and the world unseen. I would notice a few of these
correspondences, so that we may realize how closely we are related to
both worlds. If we keep our mind and our heart open to see such
correspondences, we shall often be surprised at the vividness of their
suggestion. But they are suggestion only. They are not proof. That is
not their function. But when an idea is seen in itself to be probable,
a vivid illustration will confirm it.
The world is full of such correspondences between the natural and the
spiritual. To discover one of these correspondences is in my view a
greater achievement than a discovery in science. It is greater because
it is a discovery in the realm of spirit instead of the realm of matter.
It is no wonder, then, that Emerson says that "such correspondences, if
adequately executed, would be the poem of the world."
I will notice a few of those correspondences, that have occurred to my
own mind. I might cite many more, but I think these few will tend to
fortify the conclusions we have been trying to arrive at. I apprehend
that many readers who are not fond of argument will feel the force of
illustration. Thus they will have a more vivid appreciation of the
unseen than can be conveyed by mere argument. To be sure, there is a
greater appeal to the imagination than to the reason. But we must not
decry imagination except when it runs riot into mere fancy. Ruskin says:
"Imagination is the greatest power of the soul."
Only yesterday my boy asked me a curious question. He wanted to know why
so many millions of flowers and other beautiful things that men never
saw or will see, were created. I said that the very same thought was in
my own mind years ago, but at that time I could find no answer. But I
found the true solution since. The true solution is, that God is the
Beautiful One, and He naturally--it may be of divine necessity--has to
express Himself in forms of beauty. So He creates millions of beautiful
things that no man or angel will ever see. In so far as they do see
them, and their sense of beauty is developed thereby, that is good, but
it is secondary. The primary thing is, that the Infinitely Beautiful One
naturally expresses Himself--perhaps must express Himself--in
beautiful forms.
I have seen the potter working at his wheel; and it is wonderful to see
the beautiful effects he can produce. He can take a lump of clay, and
from that shapeless mass of matter he can make vessels and ornaments of
rarest beauty. He has no machinery but that simple wheel, but by that
and the skillful movements of his hand, he can evolve beauty out of
chaos. It made me think of the way God evolved this beautiful world out
of chaos at first. There is this difference, that the potter uses
mechanical power, and he uses his hands, whereas God uses only His word
and will. He spake and it was done; He commanded and all things stood
fast. But the effect is of the same order. It is the reduction of chaos
into beauty; and though we can produce such effects only in a small way
and by mechanical means, it gives us a hint of almighty power and
beauty. Yea, and that almighty power, as seen here in such beautiful
effects, gives us a suggestion of the transcendent glory of the world on
high. Not only so, but we have a vivid hint as to the fact that divine
power and grace can transform a sinner into a saint.
One function of the glorified body will be its amazing capacity of
speed. Along this line we have even now and here suggestions of
wonderful possibilities. You have noticed when on the train the swarm of
insects that keep easy pace with your rapid flight. Those insects not
only seem to enjoy a race with the train, but to show how easily they
could leave you behind, they indulge in all sorts of airy gymnastics, at
the same time whirling to and fro, and up and down. What marvellous
power of motion is there, if you only think of it! How inconceivably
rapid must be the movements of those little wings. It is computed that
some of those insects open and close their wings no less than two
hundred times in a second. It is amazing. And is it not suggestive of
the capacity of motion with which this body may easily be endowed when
the cumbrous flesh is changed into the immortal, ethereal body? Since
those tiny insects are so wonderfully endowed for their little life
here, so aimless as it might seem, what glorious capacities may not be
in reserve for us, God's redeemed children, who are to live forever,
going forth on God's errands through the wide amplitudes of uncounted
starry worlds.
It is truly amazing to notice what glorious effects God can bring out
of materials that seem so simple and common. Out of the earth's dark
soil, by the action of light and heat, He calls forth myriads of
flowers. A heavy cloud, that contains nothing but murky vapor, by the
rays of the setting sun is made to flash and glow like a burning
sapphire throne. The falling shower, by another action of the sun's
light, is painted with rainbow colors so pure that they seem to be
reflections of heaven's own beauty. Surely God has flung these glories
round about us here to give us hints and promises of the unimagined
glories of the beautiful, better land. Not only so, but we have a vivid
hint as to how the earthly can be transformed into the image of
the heavenly.
It is a law of our nature that we insensibly change into the likeness of
that which we behold and admire. Even in outward, material things we
sometimes see the working of this law. There is a gorgeous sunset. Come
out of the dingy house, and gaze on the scene. The western sky is ablaze
with purple and crimson and gold. The radiant clouds stretch out in
feathery, fantastic forms, like angels' wings; or pile themselves up in
solid blocks of glory, like celestial mountains; or shape themselves
into golden bars, like heaven's pearly gates.
As you gaze on that scene, I notice that the lines of your face soften,
the eye that was hard grows tender, the whole face loses its careworn,
earthly expression, and it is suffused with softened, heavenly light.
Your countenance is just reflecting a little of the glory of the skies.
And so, when with the spiritual eye we see the beauty of Christ, we
begin to be somewhat like Him. When His moral glory is flashed upon us,
it transforms us more or less into His likeness. Beholding, though only
in a glass, the glory of the Lord, we are changed into His heavenly
likeness, from day to day.
Going west, you pass through what seems an endless waste of sage-bush
and sand. Perhaps this has continued all day long, and you retire at
night expecting to look out again in the morning on the same dreary
waste. But in the night the scene has changed. When you look out in the
morning the first thing you see is the broad Columbia River, with its
banks of green; beyond the river, mountains rise, clothed in green and
yellow and purple; then an open space in the nearer mountains reveals
others in the distance, enveloped in a blue haze, and crowned with
gleaming snow.
What a blessed change from the experiences of yesterday, and how easy
and unconscious the transition. And so it will be with many in passing
from this life to the next. Dreary and monotonous their life has been,
and it seemed at times as if it might go on so forever. But they are
nearing the heavenly land; and some night, perhaps when they are not
expecting it, they will leave the dreariness and desolation all behind
them; they will awake in a world of beauty such as human fancy never
dreamed of.
Well do I remember the night when on seeing the sudden glow of a firefly
there flashed on my mind the idea of the ease and naturalness with
which, after all, this fleshly body of ours may become immortal and
glorious. If an insect like that can transform itself at pleasure into a
little star, who can say what latent power may be lodged in the body of
a glorified saint? Truly, "it doth not yet appear what we shall be." No;
but we have hints of it that may well fill us with an adoring hope
and joy.
There were times when Christ's eternal power and Godhead could not be
quite obscured by the fleshly body, but would shine out through this
tabernacle of clay, as we may suppose the shekinah glory of old would
shine through every crack or crevice in the temple. It was a hint of the
coming glory in which we may all shine by and by.
There is a divine sense of beauty implanted in every one of us. Have you
never noticed how the beautiful things in the shop windows attract all
the ragged urchins of the street? Yes, they may be ragged and dirty, but
the divine instinct of beauty is in every one of them. Whatever is
really beautiful--whether it be a beautiful face, or a beautiful sky, or
even a beautiful ribbon in a window--is sure to attract and
fascinate them.
Now this instinct, which is so universal, is intended, I believe, to
have its final and full development in God. He is the Source and Essence
of all beauty. All the beautiful things that surround us here are but
glimmerings of the Eternal Loveliness. These beautiful things educate
and develop our taste for the final and full fruition of the very beauty
of God. When we see Him--and not till then--will our sense of beauty be
satisfied.
It is curious and very charming to notice the variety of effects of
sunsets. I saw a sunset on the Yellowstone River which, though not
remarkable in itself, suggested to me the boundless variety of effect.
Glinting and shimmering through the green foliage of the trees the
distant river was aglow with crimson and gold, reminding me of the
celestial "sea of glass mingled with fire," And if we have such beauty
and variety here, what unimagined beauty and what endless variety
must be there.
Can you cherish the sweet memory of a sainted father, or mother, or
child? If you can, that sacred memory will be a purifying, ennobling
influence for you all your life long. Our sainted dead are not quite
lost to us; the dear face Is seen again as the face of an angel; the
familiar tones come back to us like music in our dreams. And these
blessed memories do not seem to fade; on the contrary, they seem to grow
more vivid and spiritual with the lapse of years. Sometimes, when such
memories would make us ashamed of ourselves and our sin, we may try to
crush them out of sight and hearing. We cannot sin comfortably with
those faces before our eyes, and those tones ringing in our ears. But
such memories will not be utterly banished; they come back suddenly,
when they are not expected; they pursue us like good spirits from a
world unseen. Eternity alone will tell how often a course of sin was
arrested, and the penitent wooed to a better life by the memory of a
sainted friend. I regard these holy memories as God's guardian angels.
They follow us with tender ministries of love; they often raise us when
we fall; they lift us above the dull level of the world; they nourish in
us higher ideals of purity and blessedness; they foster a more vivid
faith in the world unseen.
A dark, heavy, threatening cloud everspreads the face of the heavens.
But that cloud is heavy, and dark, and threatening, only on this side.
The other side, if we could but see it, is ablaze with heavenly
radiance. We can easily imagine that this storm cloud of ours may be
seen on the other side by angels, and that they gaze with admiration on
its glowing colors, as we gaze in admiration on the golden glories of a
sunset. How different the cloud appears as seen from this side and from
that. And we may well believe that it is just so with death. Death does
appear to us a very dark and heavy cloud; but it is so only when seen
from this side. Wait until we get above the cloud, and then what was
gloomy will be radiant. Death has two sides; the dark side that is
turned to earth; and the bright side that is seen from heaven.
In many of the glorious scenes depicted in Scripture, especially in the
Book of the Revelation, it is not easy for us to say how much is
figurative and how much is literal. Sometimes in grand mountain scenery,
when the clouds settle upon the lofty peaks, we cannot say what is
mountain and what is cloud. If we were near the mountain top we might
distinguish; but we cannot do so down here in the valley.
So we have in the Scripture a glorious cloud of symbolism hovering, upon
the peaks of the eternal mountains; but we are too far down in this
valley to discern between what is mountain and what is cloud. We may
hope to get higher by and by, and then what is hazy and undefined will
be seen in its true form and outline. "Now we know in part; but when
that which is perfect is come then that which is in part shall be
done away."
On a certain evening, as night was coming on, I stood on the shore of a
romantic watering place. The tide was breaking on the sandy beach. The
crests of the waves sparkled with phosphoric scintillations. Like a
thing of life, the light flashed along the shore; and the green and blue
and amber and white of the rippling waves sparkled like incandescent
fire. As I looked at the spectacle I thought, as I had never thought
before, of the "sea of glass mingled with fire" described by St. John in
the Apocalypse. Yes, we have hints here of the glorious things to be
seen there. Surely God has flashed these beauties on the earth and sea
that through them we might lift our thoughts and our hearts to heaven.
Passing on the train over the vast prairies of South Dakota, I noticed
one beautiful effect. The rough posts of the ragged fence we were
passing at the moment were gilded by the rays of the setting sun. It
seemed as if those rough, ragged posts were fit material wherewith to
make the heavenly gates, each of which we are told is one pearl. It
seems to be God's intention that this earth, even where it is least
picturesque, should give us hints and tokens of heavenly glory.
It seems in the highest degree probable that all the bodily senses that
we possess now will be wonderfully intensified and enlarged when this
"natural body" passes off, and the "spiritual body" is taken on. I think
we have a beautiful hint of this glorious probability in the invention
of the telescope and the microscope. By these two inventions we are
introduced to new worlds of which we never before had dreamed. By the
telescope we are let into the glory of the immense; by the microscope we
are let into the marvels of the minute. We never had really seen either
the heavens or the earth before. Now, since by an invention of man our
sight has been so marvellously quickened, it is surely easy to believe
that it will be quickened in a far greater degree when all the powers of
this natural body are renewed and immortalized. So then, while the eye
of the spiritual body may sweep the far fields of glory, it may also
discover worlds of beauty in dew drop, and leaf and flower.
As the moon shines pure and clear in a muddy pool, so Christ shone here
in this muddy, filthy world, without the serene lustre of His purity
being ever dimmed or soiled. And so we may shine in our poor human way
now, but perfectly later on.
It was my privilege lately in crossing the Atlantic, to witness one of
those glorious sunsets, which once seen can never be forgotten. Of
course the sun sets every evening upon the sea, as upon the land; but
several different circumstances must be happily combined to produce the
effect I witnessed. It was a Sabbath evening,--a fitting time for such a
scene. The day had been calm and bright, the glassy surface of the sea
being broken only by the gentlest of ripples. And now the sun had just
gone down. The clouds, from the western horizon almost to the zenith,
were piled up like very hills of glory, flashing with crimson and amber
and purple and gold. The glowing colors of the clouds were Deflected on
the sea, with a new and wonderful effect. The gentle ripples of the sea
broke up and blended these colors in a manner all its own. What seemed
solid in the sky became changeful on the sea. The crimson and amber and
purple and gold broke and mingled and glanced and gleamed on the molten
sea, until we had before our eyes that very "sea of glass mingled with
fire" which John saw in Apocalyptic vision. Oh, surely, God has flashed
these beauties on the earth and sky and sea to keep us in mind of the
surpassing glories of the beautiful better land.
In the spiritual world, as in the natural, God has made greater lights
and lesser lights. Some have more light and some have less. The main
thing is, to use well such light as we have. A traveller is making his
way home. He is very glad to have daylight, that he may see his way
clearly. But when he cannot have daylight, he is thankful for moonlight:
and if he has not moonlight he will fain use starlight; and if he has
not starlight he will be glad to have even a lamp or taper. The
traveller wants to get home, and if so be that he gets home even by a
taper light, it is well. And so, I believe that there are millions of
heathens who are led home by tapers. Many of ourselves, we hope, God
will light home by dim lights. The way seems dark enough, and in the
darkness we may stumble and fall; but if we use well the light we have,
we shall find our way.
* * * * *
Here is a drop of dew. It is suspended from a leaf. It glints, and
gleams, and glows, in the clear morning light. As you look into it, if
you are in a contemplative mood, the drop of dew expands into a world;
and what a world of beauty! It seems a very paradise, where the redeemer
of the Lord might walk; where angels might soar and sing.
* * * * *
Some time ago an organist died in the assured hope that he would be the
leader of a heavenly choir. It does not seem far fetched to believe that
his ambition is gratified. At this very hour he may be a director of
those harpers that are harping upon their harps.
Here is a sketch which we may term "Imprisoned." It was suggested to me
by a lark flying into the room, and dashing itself against the windows
in its efforts to escape:
Oh! birdie from the blue,
This is no home for you!
In spacious fields of air,
Beneath a boundless sky,
Without a fear or care,
You sang, and soared so high;
I wonder much what brought you here
To this dark room's contracted sphere.
Oh, birdie dear, beware!
Poor fluttering thing, take care!
I fear you'll hurt your pretty wings
Against these hard, material things.
Would you were free to rise,
And seek your native skies,
And from those heights no more to roam,
Or seek a lower, earthly home.
And see! I ope your prison door!
Escape, and sing, and heavenward soar!
Oh! spirit from the blue,
This is no home for you.
In fleshly walls confined
Frets the aspiring mind;
Imprisoned here in human clay,
We pine and long to soar away.
The soul would burst these prison bars,
And find its home beyond the stars.
Oh! heaven born soul, beware!
Poor fluttering thing, take care!
Oh do not hurt your spirit wings
Against earth's hard material things;
A hand some day will ope your prison door!
Oh, glad escape, to sing, and heavenward soar!
These are a few of the many suggestions with which nature abounds,
pointing our faith beyond the bourne of time to the eternal glory
beyond. But we have no corresponding hints of endless wrath. To be sure,
there are suggestions of divine anger, but not that God will be angry
forever. Like the sun breaking out from behind a dark cloud,--
"Behind a frowning Providence
He hides a smiling face."
Oh yes! We believe that sin and suffering will finally be done away. All
the ransomed of the Lord will yet come to Zion with song!
I have thrown in these few illustrations by way of conclusion, thinking
they may be a pleasant offset to mere argument.