"When deep within our swelling hearts
The thoughts of pride and anger rise,
When bitter words are on our tongues,
And tears of passion in our eyes;
Then we may stay the angry blow,
Then we may check the hasty word,
Give gentle answers back again
And fight a battle for our Lord."
Under the Emperor Diocletian (A.D. 304) a great number of children
suffered martyrdom. They were brought up and condemned to die, not for
any sin they had committed, but because their parents had taught them to
worship God.
A child called Hilarion was one of those who suffered. He was brought
up before the Roman Consul, (a person with somewhat similar power to our
magistrates,) and the Consul threatened to have him flogged; but the
child only laughed at him. "I will cut off your nose and your ears,"
said the governor; but Hilarion answered, "I am a Christian still." And
so he was led away to prison and to death.
Reader, do not the accounts of these brave and noble lives and glorious
deaths make our own lives seem poor and selfish and wretched? Do they
not make us feel how very much grander and nobler these kind of lives
were than anything we can shew nowadays? I remember seeing a book once,
called, "Is life worth living?" I never looked further than the
title-page, but the title struck me. Look round at your neighbours,
look at our country villages, look at the overflowing public-house, and
at the empty church, and then ask yourself, "Is life worth living?" And
the answer must be, No! But look once more at your own life, look at
those good people who are labouring among Christ's poor in our crowded
cities, look at the holy lives of many of our clergy, and then ask
again, "Is life worth living?" and the answer must be, Yes!
You may not be able to live among the poor in our large towns, it may
not be your calling to be a minister of Christ, but still it is quite
possible to be a martyr, to bear witness for Christ in the station in
which He has placed you. The clerk at his desk, the mechanic in his
workshop, the labourer in the field, the sailor in his ship, the servant
in his situation, all can shew that they are martyrs. The greatest
battles are not those fought on the battle-fields of earth, but in the
secret chambers of the human heart. There is many a brave man who will
face a horde of savage foes on the field of battle and die bravely like
a soldier, but who dare not and will not face his own evil heart; and
there is many a poor creature, with a suffering body and a feeble mind,
who cannot bear a harsh voice or an unkind word, and yet who has gained
the greatest possible victory, the victory over self.
*REPENTANCE.*
"There was a soul one eve autumnal sailing
Beyond the earth's dark bars,
Towards the land of sunsets never paling,
Towards Heaven's sea of stars.
And as that soul went onward, sweetly speeding
Unto its home and Light,
Repentance made it sorrowful exceeding,
Faith made it wondrous bright."
_Mrs. Alexander._
What is repentance? The word which in our New Testaments is so often
translated "Repentance," means "a change of heart." Yes, that is what
repentance really is, and not merely a desire to serve God; not an
anxious longing to lead a new life, but actually leading that new life,
and treading new ways by the help of God's Holy Spirit. Many people
believe and teach the doctrine of instantaneous conversion, as it is
called. And by this is meant that the heart of man is changed in a
moment from a state of sin to a state of holiness; that all the old
desires pass suddenly away, and new affections take their place. Thus
some men will tell you that they can name the day and hour of their
conversion, and that whatever they may do in the future, they will
eventually be found in Christ. We do not by any means deny that there
are such things as instantaneous conversions; but we say that they are
few, and that what seem to be such are often neither lasting nor real.
True repentance is no easy road to tread. Very often it takes a man his
whole lifetime, and even then his repentance may not be complete.
I have spoken of what repentance is not, now let me say a few words as
to what true repentance is. First, then, you will feel, if you have
truly repented of your sins, a true desire to give up the whole of your
heart to Christ. I cannot dwell too strongly on the necessity of giving
up _the whole_ heart. Christ will not take less. He never will reign
there, while Satan holds a part of it; He will have _all_, or none. In
your own strength you cannot do this; the world, the flesh, and the
devil will try hard to prevent you. Of himself the Ethiopian cannot
change his skin, nor the leopard his spots, "neither can ye do good
which are accustomed to do evil." But if your repentance is real, the
desire to give the whole heart to Christ will be so strong as to shut
out all other claims. Another sign of true repentance will be a
distrust of self. There will be an increasing desire for guidance other
than your own, the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Need I add that this
guidance, without which it is impossible to go right, is never kept back
from those who ask it of God in prayer, for His dear Son's sake.
One more sign of a real repentance is perseverance in the face of
failure and backsliding. If your repentance is real, the new life will
seem so far better to you than the old, that you will persevere in it,
in spite of failure. "No man, having put his hand to the plough, and
looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God[#]." And no sinner, who has
once repented of his sin, and then is frightened at his failures, or
discouraged by his difficulties, can call his repentance real.
[#] S. Luke ix. 62.
And the last sign of true repentance that I shall give you is trust in
God's love for Christ's sake. Your perseverance will depend entirely on
your faith or trust in God. In common life we know that as we put a
greater distance between ourselves and any object at which we may be
looking, it becomes less and less distinct; whereas, the nearer the eye
approaches any object, the more distinct that object becomes. So is it
with man in his relation to God. The further he wanders from God by
sin, and the greater distance he puts between himself and his Maker in
this way, the less he knows about Him, and the less he is able to trust
Him. But the nearer man comes to God in true repentance, the more he
learns of that great Being, and the more he learns to trust God's love
to him for Christ's sake.
Reader, may you and I learn such true repentance as this, and having
learnt it, may we "bring forth fruits meet for repentance." May we
cultivate a sense of our own nothingness, and of God's greatness; and
may we put a generous trust in our good Lord, Who has done so much for
us. "May we never indulge unworthy thoughts, measuring our Lord's
tender mercies by ours; but let us in every trial and temptation, nay,
even in the hour of surprise or sudden fall, yet cling the closer to
Him, Who is the true Refuge of sinners, and Who is ever willing to
receive those who in sincerity return to Him."
*FAITH.*
"Faith is the Spirit's sweet control,
From which assurance springs;
Faith is the pencil of the soul,
That pictures Heavenly things.
Faith is the lamp that burns to guide
Our bark when tempest-driven;
Faith is the key that opens wide
The distant gates of Heaven."
_John Burbidge._
I spoke in the last chapter of faith being one of the signs of true
repentance. Repentance, as I then showed, was that grace whereby we
forsake sin; faith, on the other hand, is the grace whereby we believe
and trust in the promises of God, made to us in the Gospel of Jesus
Christ. Now it is not always an easy matter to exercise faith in God.
Many people believe in God's judgments, and when these are in mercy sent
upon them, they are quite ready, like Ahab of old, to humble themselves
before their offended Master. But take away the punishment, stay the
uplifted rod, and let them receive instead of judgments, mercies, and
then where is their faith? It is no easy thing to believe in God! to
believe, that is, that prosperity and adversity are alike gifts of the
same Father. To believe Him as Abraham believed Him, whose faith "was
counted unto him for righteousness." To believe Him as Job did, so that
not even the loss of worldly goods, or terrible pain inflicted on the
body, or even the advice of her he trusted and loved more than all other
on earth, could cause him to blaspheme. To have such faith in Christ as
the Apostles had, who "left all and followed" Him; nay, more, such faith
that one of their number could exclaim, "I count all things but loss for
the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for Whom I have
suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may
win Christ, and be found in Him, not having mine own righteousness, ...
but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which
is of God by faith[#]."
[#] Phil. iii. 8.
Yes, reader, that is the kind of faith you and I shall need when sorrow
and troubles come upon us; that is the only kind of faith which can
carry a man peacefully through life, and bear him up in death, till his
eyes rest upon the everlasting city.
But there are many people who have faith, but only a very little. Their
faith is like S. Peter's. It is strong enough to make them desire to be
with Jesus, but not strong enough to carry them to Him. Just as St.
Peter tried to walk over the dark waters of the sea of Galilee to go to
his Lord, so these try, and often try hard, to walk over the waters of
sin to go to Christ. But when temptations arise, or doubts arise, they
begin to sink, as it were, that is to say, their faith begins to fail,
and they cease to please God. St. Peter's fault was not that he had no
faith, but that he had _too little_. That he had some, who can doubt,
for if he had not, he surely would never have left the ship, and his
companions, to walk upon the water to Christ. And so it is with us.
Many of us have God's great gift of faith: sufficient faith to leave the
world, and start to go to Christ, but we find that our failures are
frequent, that when we would do good, evil is present with us, and so,
like St. Peter, we begin to sink, it may be just as we are nearing
Christ. What we want, then, is more faith, and we must ask God for
this, for He alone can give it.
But what shall I say of those who have no faith at all; those who never
start on the journey whose end is Christ? Are they not, think you, in a
dangerous state? True, they may be living happily enough _now_, but the
end must come one day, and _what an end that will be_! Think of that,
reader. Think if it be not better to suffer the Master's rebuke for
having _little faith_, than to receive no rebuke at all, because you
have _no faith_. Once more, faith is necessary to those who would live
godly lives, because there are certain mysteries in religion which are
left to faith, and which we must accept as facts, though we cannot
understand them. For instance, we are told that there are three Persons
in the Blessed Trinity--the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost--and yet
though there are three distinct Persons, there is but one God. We
cannot understand that, but we must believe that it is so. Just as in
nature there are many things we cannot understand, but which we accept
as true; and if we do so in matters relating to man, are we not equally
bound to do so in such as bear reference to God? It is such a common
thing nowadays to hear silly people, who wish to be thought clever, say,
"I won't believe anything I cannot understand!" But there are many
things which these very people accept as true, but which they in no way
understand. For instance, I suppose they all believe that the grass
which is eaten by geese, by cows, or sheep, will by a process of
digestion turn to feathers on the geese, to hair on the cows, and to
wool on the sheep. But do they understand how this happens? No, they
do not; but though they cannot understand it, they nevertheless believe
it.
And, reader, there are many who cannot understand many things in God's
world of nature, and they do not want to, for they accept them as
matters of faith. But if there is anything in religion they cannot
understand, they must needs disbelieve it at once, or else be guilty of
seeking to pry into "the deep things of God."
Learn, then, this one lesson from these few words on faith; namely, that
there are things which Almighty God has purposely hidden from the sons
of men, both in the Church and in the world; many things of which it is
written, "What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know
hereafter[#]."
[#] S. John xiii. 7.
*THE SHORTNESS OF LIFE.*
"Brief life is here our portion;
Brief sorrow, short-lived care:
The life that knows no ending,
The tearless life, is _there_.
The morning shall awaken,
The shadows shall decay,
And each true-hearted servant
Shall shine as doth the day."
_S. Bernard._
The ancients had a saying, "Whom the gods love, die young." By which, I
suppose, they meant that the best men, and those whose lives were of the
greatest promise, died in early youth. Whether this is true or not, I
cannot pretend to say. Certain it is that many die in early youth, long
before we have had a chance of seeing what they were likely to turn out.
And indeed the shortness of life is evident to us all. From the child
who dies in infancy, to the old man whose grey hairs are brought down to
the grave in sorrow, all have experience of the shortness of life.
And what is life? What does the Bible say of it? "It is even a vapour,
that appeareth for a little time and then vanisheth away[#]."
"Vanisheth away;" yes, reader, just like the steam which issues from
boiling water; just like the mists which cling for a while to the
hillsides, before they melt into nothingness, so is life. We see it for
awhile, a little while, and then like a morning mist, life vanishes
away.
[#] S. James iv. 14.
Life has often been compared to the sea. At times the sea is ruffled by
the winds which pass over its surface; and then again, the wind drops,
and the sea is calm and still again. And so is it with life. The winds
of passion or of discontent pass over it, and angry temper ruffles the
calm of life, and then by degrees the peace of God comes down upon us,
and life is once more happy. But true happiness, in life or in death, is
only to be found in Jesus. He is the only sure haven of rest, the only
hiding-place from the storm, and in Him alone can we find rest until we
pass the waves of this troublesome world.
Some years ago a young man went out, full of hope and energy, to take
charge of a mission which we had planted among the Southern seas. He
could not tell when he left our shores whether his life was to be long
or short, whether it would be rough or smooth; but he went forth
trusting in his God, and he went forth to die. He reached his diocese
in safety, and for some years Bishop Patteson, for it was he, preached
the gospel, and baptised, and planted missions among those wild people,
for whom he had given up his English home. But at length one day the
bishop went to an island where the people did not know him, and where at
the time they happened to be angry with white men. And so when the good
bishop came ashore, they pressed round him, and he soon saw that all was
not right. At length one, bolder than the rest, drew near and knocked
the bishop down with his club, and then the others closed round him, and
so he died. "And they put the young martyr bishop in an open boat," says
one, "to float away across the bright blue water, with his hands crossed
as if in prayer, and a palm branch on his breast."
That life was not a long one, but who will dare to tell us that it was
not a useful life, and a glorious death. It may not be given to you to
win the martyr's crown, or to die for Jesus Christ. But it is given to
you to live for Christ; and remember there is a living death, a killing
of self, which you may do, a death of which St. Paul speaks, when he
says, "I die daily[#]."
[#] 1 Cor. xv. 31.
For, after all, what think you was life given to us for? Was it to
amuse ourselves, or to enjoy ourselves in? Was it not rather to do good
to others, and to work for Jesus Christ? Surely the best lives, and the
noblest lives, and the happiest lives are those spent in the service of
others. And the Master has told us that He will reward such: "Inasmuch
as ye have done it unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye have
done it unto Me[#]." And who are Christ's brethren? In every cottage
home, in the lonely hut, wherever man is found, whether he be rich or
poor, king or beggar, nay the worst specimens of humanity, the murderer
and the drunkard, these all are the brethren of Jesus. It is for these
He has bid us work, and toil, and pray. It is for these He has
commanded us to live and, if need be, to die.
[#] S. Matt xxv. 40.
And no life is too short for this kind of work. The youngest child can
do something in the Master's vineyard. It may be only given us to speak
a kind word to a companion. But very often a kind word, spoken in the
nick of time, has saved a soul from condemnation. Live your life here,
then, as Jesus lived His, Who went about doing good; Who sat at meat
with the Pharisee and the sinner alike; and Who even allowed a sinful
woman to approach Him, and did not turn her away.
*THE DEATH OF FRIENDS.*
"Whene'er the Christian's eyelid droops and closes
In nature's parting strife,
A friendly angel stands where he reposes,
To wake him up to life.
The mourners throng the way, and from the steeple
The funeral bell tolls slow;
But in the golden streets the holy people
Are passing to and fro;
And saying as they meet, 'Rejoice! another,
Long waited for, is come;'
The Saviour's heart is glad, a younger brother
Hath reached the Father's home!"
_J. D. Burns._
There is nothing so sad as parting. There comes over the heart such a
feeling of utter loneliness that we know not where to turn for relief.
It may be the mother who has lost her darling child, and sits counting
the weary hours, and missing its baby prattle. It may be the wife of
the sailor who sits alone in her cottage with the cruel letter in her
lap, which tells of how her husband sank, and died. Or it may be the
severing of heart and heart; the parting of two friends who have lived
together, and loved each other with a friendship stronger than death.
But in whatever way it comes, it is ever the same; the same bitter
feeling of loneliness, casting its shadow over the life.
And there is but one way that I know of in which we can get rid of this
feeling of loneliness; only one Person to Whom we can apply for relief
with any certainty of success. The Man of sorrows, Who could weep tears
of human sorrow at the grave of Lazarus, and speak words of sympathy to
that troubled multitude who stood around his grave; He alone can
sympathise with us in our bereavement, and comfort us in the death of
our friends.
The Bible is full of beautiful passages on this important subject. Who,
for instance, can read those beautiful words in the seventh chapter of
the Revelation, and not receive comfort? "I beheld, and lo! a great
multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and
people, and tongues, stood before the throne, and before the Lamb,
clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands; and cried with a
loud voice, saying, Salvation to our God which sitteth upon the throne,
and unto the Lamb. And one of the elders answered, saying unto me, What
are these which are arrayed in white robes? and whence came they? And I
said unto him, Sir, thou knowest. And he said unto me, These are they
which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and
made them white in the blood of the Lamb. They shall hunger no more,
neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any
heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them,
and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters; and God shall wipe
away all tears from their eyes."
Reader, if any of your relations or friends have gone before you to
Paradise, if they have died in God's holy faith and fear, and if, after
reading such beautiful words concerning their heavenly state as those
above quoted, you still wish them back on earth, then your heart must
indeed be of the earth, earthy. Oh, think for one moment of the
troubles and trials of this present life, and then turn your thoughts to
the state of the blessed dead. No more sickness or sorrow for them; no
more care, no more trial; no more sleepless nights or anxious days, for
they are as the angels of God. "Blessed are the dead which die in the
Lord: yea, saith the Spirit, that they may _rest from their
labours_[#]."
[#] Rev. xiv. 13.
There are times in the life of every man, when God comes specially near
to him; when He says as it were to the soul of man, "Look unto Me, _I_
am thy salvation[#]." One of such times is when we are standing by the
death-bed of our loved ones. It may be we have given them the love which
rightly belonged to God, and so He has seen fit to take them. Or it may
be that we have loved them too little, and lightly valued them here, and
so to teach us the value of friends, God has taken them to live with Him
above. It may seem to you and to me a hard method of dealing with the
human soul, but remember that the dealings of Almighty God are clothed
with mystery, "and His ways past finding out[#]."
[#] Ps. xxxv. 3.
[#] Rom. xi. 33.
Lastly, there is one thought more, which may give comfort to those who
are mourning the loss of their dear ones. The day will come when we
shall meet them again, on "the far eternal shore." But if we would meet
them there we must live as they lived; we must serve Christ as they
served Him; and love God as they loved Him. And then He will bring us
together again on the ever-lasting morning, "when the day breaks and the
shadows flee away[#]." "When we are to leave this present state," says
Alford, "is a matter hidden from our eyes, and not dependent on
ourselves; but how we will leave it, whether as the Lord's blessed ones,
or with no part in Him, this is left for ourselves to determine. There
is set before us life and death. May we choose life, that it may be
well with us, and that we may wake from the bed of death to find
ourselves for ever with the Lord."
[#] Cant. ii. 17.
"Therefore let us be of good cheer concerning them that have fallen
asleep in Jesus; and let us be of good cheer concerning ourselves. Good
as it is to obey and serve God here, it has been far better for them to
depart, and to be with Christ, and it will be far better for us, if we
hold fast our faith and our confidence in Him firm unto the end."
*THE FEAR OF DEATH.*
"There is no death! the stars go down,
To rise upon some fairer shore;
And bright in Heaven's jewelled crown,
They shine for evermore.
There is no death! an angel form
Walks o'er the earth with silent tread,
And bears our best loved things away,
And then we call them dead."
_Lord Lytton._
I have spoken in the earlier part of this book on the general subject of
death; I now want to add a few words on that which so many, even of the
best of us, feel, the fear of death.
I suppose there have been times in the lives even of the best and
bravest men when this fear rose up before them. Times when the dark
valley looked darker than usual, and life seemed sweeter than it really
was. It is but human to fear what we can in no way understand, and
certainly none of us can understand death. His is a message which comes
to all alike; to rich and to poor, to young and to old; the soldier on
the battle-field, who lays down his life for his country; the sailor,
who sinks into a watery grave, and whom the dark wave covers; the
missionary, who dies for his Master's sake; to these and many more the
angel of death comes, and, whether they are ready or no, they have to
yield to his bidding. But of this we may be sure, that God never takes
any one away from this world until his work is done. We all of us have
some special work to do, either good or evil, and until that work is
done we shall be kept from danger and from death. The right way then to
look upon death is as the gate that leads us to a better world, the
pathway leading to Christ. And the prayer of our heart should be this--
"Let me be with Thee where Thou art,
Where spotless saints Thy Name adore;
Then only will this sinful heart
Be evil and defiled no more.
Let me be with Thee where Thou art,
Where none can die, where none remove;
Where neither life nor death can part
Me from Thy Presence and Thy Love."
And if that is the feeling that you have with regard to the life to
come, death can have no terrors for you. "The sting of death is _sin_,"
but Jesus died long ago to wash your sins away. If then you are free
from sin, that is from wilful sin, you will have but little fear of
death. It is Satan who gives us this fear; it is Christ who takes the
fear away.
But in order not to fear death, we must be prepared for it. If a man
_really_ loves God he is prepared to die anywhere and at any moment, and
so he does not fear death. "Unto the godly," says David, "there ariseth
up a light in the darkness." And so we may say now that to the
Christian there ariseth up a light greater and brighter than any David
knew of in the darkness of death, even that light which came "to lighten
the Gentiles, and to be the glory of His people Israel."
I came across a story the other day of a courtier who had passed his
life in the service of his prince. He had fallen dangerously ill, and
now lay dying. The prince went to see his faithful servant, and was
touched with the sad spectacle of suffering. "Is there anything," he
asked, "that I can do for you? Ask it, and you shall not be refused."
"Prince," said the dying man, "give me a quarter of an hour of life."
"Alas," said the prince, "what you have asked is not in my power to
give; ask something else if you wish me to help you." And the story
runs that the dying man cried out in the agony of his soul, "I have
served you for fifty years, and you cannot give me one quarter of an
hour of life! Ah! if I had served the Lord thus faithfully, he would
have given me not a quarter of an hour of life, but an eternity of
happiness." Very soon after he died. Happy for him if he himself
profited by the lesson which he gave to others on the nothingness of
human life, and the need of working out one's own salvation.
Reader, the day perhaps will come when you too will wish to ask for a
quarter of an hour's life. It may be you will rise to-morrow morning,
and God's sun will be shining bright, and everything will look peaceful
and happy as you leave home, but the angel of death may have started on
his errand; and instead of your walking in, gaily whistling, in the
evening when your work is over, there may come down the village a
mournful company bearing a wounded man upon a hurdle. That man may be
yourself; and as you reach your own door the films of death may be
gathering over your eyes, and the one request you would like to make
would be, "Oh! that I might have but a quarter of an hour to make my
peace with God." It has been the prayer, ere now, of many a one more
hardened in sin than yourself. The richest men have felt the longing,
and they would have given half of all their hard-earned gold to get that
quarter of an hour. The poorest men have felt it too; and if they could
begin life again they felt that they would live very differently, and
Christ and not Satan should be Master of their hearts.
"It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God[#]." It
is a fearful thing to live a life of wickedness, and to die with
unforgiven sin upon the soul. But the remedy is in your own hands. The
Lord Jesus waits to be gracious; He loves you, He toils for you, He
weeps for you, as He wept for Jerusalem of old, and all He asks of you
is to give Him your heart now, and then there will be no such thing as
fear in death; for the perfect love wherewith He will teach you to love
Him, will cast out all fear and all terror, and in your case there will
be no pain in death, but the spirit will pass away from earth to meet
Him at last on the shore of heaven.
[#] Heb. x. 31.
*SORROW AND SUFFERING.*
"'Nobody knows but Jesus!'
Is it not better so,
That no one else but Jesus,
My own dear Lord, should know?
When the sorrow is a secret
Between my Lord and me,
I learn the fuller measure
Of His quick sympathy."
_F. R. Havergal._
"Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward[#]" is a very true
saying. And I suppose there will be few people, if any, of those who
read this book, who will not know something about sorrow. Yes, we all
feel sorrow, more or less. Some people feel it more acutely than
others. To some it is a real burthen. From the little child who cries
over its broken toy to the old man who weeps over his lost wealth, all
are partakers of sorrow.
[#] Job v. 7.
Suffering, again, might be "sorrow's own sister," so closely are the two
connected here below. For instance, God sends a great and crushing
sorrow; say, for instance, the death of a dear friend, or the sickness
of one we love; and to us the news of this sorrow brings intense pain,
deep suffering. And you may ask, why is this suffering necessary? You
tell us it is sent by God, and that all He sends is for our good, what
is the need of suffering? I will tell you. A friend of mine who had
been in Eastern lands, told me he once saw a shepherd who wanted his
flock to cross a stream. The shepherd went into the water himself and
called them, but no, they would not follow him into the water. What did
he do? Why, he went in among the flock, and lifting a little lamb under
each arm, plunged right into the stream, and crossed it without even
looking back. When he lifted the lambs, my friend said, the old sheep
looked up into his face, and began to bleat for them; but when he
plunged into the water, the dams plunged in after him, and then the
whole flock followed. When they reached the other side he put down the
lambs, and they were quickly joined by their mothers, and there was a
happy meeting. My friend told me, too, that he noticed that the
pastures on the other side of the stream were much better, and the
fields greener, and on this account the shepherd was leading them
across. And in like manner does the good Shepherd, even Jesus Christ,
having found his oft-repeated call to men to look up to heaven vain, so
also does He often take from His flock a little lamb, and crossing with
it the stream of death, places it down amid the green pastures and still
waters of Paradise. And by this means he often causes the parents to
look up to the same place, for right well He knows the truth of His own
words, that "Where the treasure is, there will the heart be also.[#]"
[#] Matt. vi. 21.
And so, perhaps, you begin to see that suffering used by Almighty God
has its uses. It very often is the means, in cases where other means
have failed, of weaning a soul away from earth, and fixing its hopes on
the things of heaven. It very often is the first warning given to the
soul of man, that here has he no continuing city, but must seek one to
come. Reader, it may be as you have walked along life's troubled way,
you have as yet had but little taste of suffering. But it will come one
day. It comes to us all; and very often, the best men, and the holiest
men are the greatest sufferers, under the chastening hand of God. You
remember the case of Job in the Bible, what a sufferer he was! And yet
Job was a good man; for when the temptation came to him to curse God and
die, he recognised it as the voice of Satan, even though the words were
spoken by the one nearest to him on earth.
The great thing for us all to recognise in the day of suffering and the
time of sorrow alike, is the good hand of our God upon us. To
understand that there is such a thing as being "perfect through
suffering," and that we, even as the Master Himself did, may learn
obedience by the things which we suffer. That a smooth existence
without sorrow and without suffering may be a life of mental anguish,
while a life of sorrow and suffering may be a life of joy, of hope, and
of triumph, are doubtless lessons hard to learn; but for all that we
must needs learn them. And if we cannot learn this lesson from the
lives of those around us, it may be God's good pleasure to teach it in
our own.
*DEATH.*
"There is a Reaper whose name is Death,
And with his sickle keen,
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between."
_Longfellow._
So solemn a subject is that of death, and so near have many of us been
brought to it, either in our own homes or in those of others, that we
cannot but approach it with a feeling of awe. To the worldly man death
can never be a pleasant prospect. At best it means to him the cessation
of all hope and of all action. All worldly pleasure is then at an end,
and for him there remains no such rest as is the hope and stay of the
people of God.
Another class there is that looks upon death in another way. These do
not really enjoy life here below, still less do they enjoy any hope of
life to come. For such persons death is but a leap in the dark; a
bridge across the dark valley from the mists of earth into a far more
misty future; a passage from the darkness here into the deeper and
blacker darkness beyond.
But how different all this is in the case of the Christian man. He has
been preparing, all his life through, for the world to come. His
conversation--his "citizenship--is in Heaven[#];" and in death he
recognises the method by which his dear Lord calls him home. There is
no sting, no agony, in the Christian's death; Jesus, his Saviour, took
that away long ago. There have been death-beds, on which men lay with
bodies racked with aching pains, or horribly mutilated, and yet the look
on their faces was perfectly happy. The body indeed was suffering agony,
but the mind was feasting on visions of a far-off land. and a kindly
Saviour ready to receive the redeemed one home. Oh, yes, there is
something grand and striking about the Christian's death. The invisible
spirits of God ascending and descending, as of old they did to the
sleeping Jacob at Bethel, keep bringing stores of comfort to his soul.
[#] Phil. iii. 20.
Among the many grand and noble deaths which history records, I know of
none grander in its simplicity or more precious in its lessons, than
that of Commodore Goodenough in our own day. He had gone ashore with a
boat's crew, on one of the South Sea Islands; when he was surrounded,
and attacked by the natives, who were exasperated at the cursed
man-stealing trade which has brought discredit on the English name. The
Commodore was wounded by an arrow, which chanced to be poisoned; but
this he did not know. Nor was it till his ship was nearing Adelaide,
that he discovered that his wound was mortal. And then beneath the open
sky, far from his English home, on the deck of his vessel in which he
had sailed over those summer seas, he called his men around him; and as
the rough seamen, one after another, gathered quickly round their dying
chief, he looked upon them, with the films of death already settling on
his glazing eyes, and said, "My men, I want you to serve God." These
were the last words he ever spoke to them, and then his spirit passed
away to join the vast multitude before the throne of that God he had
loved and served so well.
The death of a Christian is indeed precious from the lessons we learn
from it. But in order to die a Christian's death, remember you must
live a Christian's life, and then you may say with Balaam--"Let me die
the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his[#]."
[#] Num. xxiii. 10.
*LAST WORDS.*
"On what has now been sown
Thy blessing, Lord, bestow;
The power is Thine alone
To make it spring and grow."
_Newton._
We have now reached the last chapter of these readings, and the last
words must be spoken.
We have thought together upon life and death; upon humility and
self-denial, those "two graces peculiarly Christian." I have spoken of
our duties to our parents and to our children respectively; of work of
various kinds on earth, and of rest in our Father's kingdom. And now,
reader, that it is almost time for us to part, let us "gather up the
fragments that remain, that nothing be lost[#]."
[#] S. John vi. 12.
Have you learnt anything, do you think, that you didn't know before,
from the words of this book? Are you any nearer to your Father's house
than you were when first you opened it? Has the Bible seemed in any
degree more precious to you, or has it in any way increased your regard
for the things of the Spirit, and the peace that passeth understanding?
If these, or any of them, have been attained, I have gained my object.
If this book has in any way put before you the old, old story in a new
light, then my purpose has been accomplished, my work is done. But if
there is any one who rises from reading this book, feeling still
careless about God, or holiness; if there be any who, like Felix of old,
intends to put off repentance to a more convenient season, which season
may never come, let me earnestly beg of him in these last words to
repent, ere it is too late.
The present time is yours--the future is God's. And remember that you
must give up sin _entirely_ if you would be a follower of Christ. Don't
rest content, as I well know too many do, with being no worse than
others. Don't go with the multitude to do evil. Christ wants you to
try and be better than others, and not as good or bad as they.
Set a high standard before you, even the standard of the God-man
Himself. Rise higher than the low standard aimed at by those around
you. "Rise higher--learn from Christ, Who was lifted up, how to draw
all men unto you, learn to think for them, to feel for them, to work for
them, to suffer for them." And oh! don't think such occupations as
these will make you a gloomy man, or a dull companion. "Rejoice, O
young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy
youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine
eyes: but know thou that for all these things God will bring thee into
judgment[#]."
[#] Eccles. xi. 9.
Arise then, young men, in the strength which your God has given you. Go
forth and shew the world and your fellows what true manliness and
self-control will do for a man; enjoy life, but use it and don't abuse
it, and so "be faithful unto death," and you too shall receive "a crown
of life[#]."
[#] Rev. ii. 10.
There in the heavenly home your sins will never be mentioned again.
Jesus Christ waits to bear them for you. The angels wait to welcome
you. The Holy Ghost waits to take possession of your heart, and make
His dwelling there. And will you disappoint all these? Take your
Bible, and turn to the beautiful story of the lost sheep in the
fifteenth chapter of St. Luke, and there read how "there is joy in the
presence of the angels of God, over _one_ sinner that repenteth." As
one has beautifully put it--
"And all through the mountains thunder-riven,
And up from the rocky steep,
There arose a cry to the gate of Heaven--
'Rejoice, I have found My sheep.'
And the angels echoed around the throne
Rejoice! for the Lord brings back His own."
Go to Him just as you are, poor and wretched and sinful, and He will
wash you from your sins, and clothe you in His own righteousness. And
when you have found Him, tell others about Him too. Philip was not
satisfied to follow Christ alone, but he went and told Nathanael. The
woman of Samaria was not content to stand and listen to the Saviour's
gracious message, but she went and called her friends and her
neighbours, saying, "Come, see a man which told me all that ever I did."
And so it will be with you. "When thou art converted strengthen thy
brethren." Speak to them often privately about the love of Jesus, as
you have opportunity, and neither in this world, nor in the world to
come, shall you in any wise lose your reward.
One word more. Don't be down-hearted. If you find the devil strong, if
you find the flesh weak, don't be down-hearted. Those conversions are
seldom lasting which are the work of a single day. You will have much
sorrow and much trouble as long as you are in the world, but be of good
courage, for Christ has "overcome the world[#]."
[#] S. John xvi. 33.
Young men stand up for Christ, and He will stand up for you, when you
most need His help. Don't be ashamed of _being called_ Christians, or of
_being_ Christians. Be more _truly_ manly, and you will be more truly
humble; be more independent of men, of their praise or blame; and then
you will be more dependent upon God. In a word, don't mind sharing your
Master's shame here, if you wish to share His glory hereafter.
And my last word of farewell advice to all who may read this book, is
this--"Be not thou ashamed of the testimony of our Lord[#]."
[#] 2 Tim. i. 8.