the same serious truth. For three centuries it was exposed to heathen
persecution; during that long period God's Hand was upon His people:
what did they do when that Hand was taken off? How did they act when
the world was thrown open to them, and the saints possessed the high
places of the earth? did they enjoy it? far from it, they shrank from
that which they might, had they chosen, have made much of; they denied
themselves what was set before them; when God's Hand was removed, their
own hand was heavy upon them. Wealth, honour, and power, they put away
from them. They recollected our Lord's words, "How hardly shall they
that have riches enter into the kingdom of God[9]!" And St. James's,
"Hath not God chosen the poor of this world, rich in faith, and heirs
of the kingdom[10]?" For three centuries they had no need to think of
those words, for Christ remembered them, and kept them humble; but when
He left them to themselves, then they did voluntarily what they had
hitherto suffered patiently. They were resolved that the Gospel
character of a Christian should be theirs. Still, as before, Christ
spoke of His followers as poor and weak, and lowly and simple-minded;
men of plain lives, men of prayer, not "faring sumptuously," or clad in
"soft raiment," or "taking thought for the morrow." They recollected
what He said to the young Ruler, "If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell
that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in
heaven, and come and follow Me." And so they put off their "gay
clothing," their "gold, and pearls, and costly array;" they "sold that
they had, and gave alms;" they "washed one another's feet;" they "had
all things common." They formed themselves into communities for prayer
and praise, for labour and study, for the care of the poor, for mutual
edification, and preparation for Christ; and thus, as soon as the world
professed to be Christian, Christians at once set up among them a
witness against the world, and kings and monks came into the Church
together. And from that time to this, never has the union of the
Church with the State prospered, but when the Church was in union also
with the hermitage and the cell.
Moreover, in those religious ages, Christians avoided greatness in the
Church as well as in the world. They would not accept rank and station
on account of their spiritual peril, when they were no longer
encompassed by temporal trials. When they were elected to the
episcopate, when they were appointed to the priesthood, they fled away
and hid themselves. They recollected our Lord's words, "Whosoever will
be chief among you, let him be your servant;" and again, "Be not ye
called Rabbi, for one is your Master, even Christ, and all ye are
brethren[11]." And when discovered and forced to the eminence which
they shunned, they made much lament, and were in many tears. And they
felt that their higher consideration in the world demanded of them some
greater strictness and self-denial in their course of life, lest it
should turn to a curse, lest the penance of which it would defraud them
here, should be visited on them in manifold measure hereafter. They
feared to have "their good things" and "their consolation" on earth,
lest they should not have Lazarus' portion in heaven. That state of
things indeed is now long passed away, but let us not miss the
doctrinal lesson which it conveys, if we will not take it for our
pattern.
Before I conclude, however, I must take notice of an objection which
may be made to what I have been saying. It may be asked, "Are not
these dangerous things the gifts of God? Are they not even called
blessings? Did not God bestow riches and honour upon Solomon as a
reward? And did He not praise him for praying for wisdom? And does
not St. Paul say, 'Covet earnestly the best gifts[12]?'" It is true;
nor did I ever mean to say that these things were bad in themselves,
but bad, for us, if we seek them as ends, and dangerous to us from
their fascination. "Every creature of God is good," as St. Paul says,
"and nothing to be refused[13];" but circumstances may make good gifts
injurious in our particular case. Wine is good in itself, but not for
a man in a fever. If our souls were in perfect health, riches and
authority, and strong powers of mind, would be very suitable to us: but
they are weak and diseased, and require so great a grace of God to bear
these advantages well, that we may be well content to be without them.
Still it may be urged, Are we then absolutely to give them up if we
have them, and not accept them when offered? It may be a duty to keep
them, it is sometimes a duty to accept them; for in certain cases God
calls upon us not so much to put them away, as to put away our old
natures, and make us new hearts and new spirits, wherewith to receive
them. At the same time, it is merely for our safety to know their
perilous nature, and to beware of them, and in no case to take them
simply for their own sake, but with a view to God's glory. They must
be instruments in our hands to promote the cause of Gospel truth. And,
in this light, they have their value, and impart their real pleasure;
but be it remembered, that value and that happiness are imparted by the
end to which they are dedicated; It is "the altar that sanctifieth the
gift[14]:" but, compared with the end to which they must be directed,
their real and intrinsic excellence is little indeed.
In this point of view it is that we are to covet earnestly the best
gifts: for it is a great privilege to be allowed to serve the Church.
Have we wealth? let it be the means of extending the knowledge of the
truth--abilities? of recommending it--power? of defending it.
From what I have said concerning the danger of possessing the things
which the world admires, we may draw the following rule: use them, as
far as given, with gratitude for what is really good in them, and with
a desire to promote God's glory by means of them, but do not go out of
the way to seek them. They will not on the whole make you happier, and
they may make you less religious.
For us, indeed, who are all the adopted children of God our Saviour,
what addition is wanting to complete our happiness? What can increase
their peace who believe and trust in the Son of God? Shall we add a
drop to the ocean, or grains to the sand of the sea? Shall we ask for
an earthly inheritance, who have the fulness of an heavenly one; power,
when in prayer we can use the power of Christ, or wisdom, guided as we
may be by the true Wisdom and Light of men? It is in this sense that
the Gospel of Christ is a leveller of ranks: we pay, indeed, our
superiors full reverence, and with cheerfulness as unto the Lord; and
we honour eminent talents as deserving admiration and reward, and the
more readily act we thus, because these are little things to pay. The
time is short, year follows year, and the world is passing away. It is
of small consequence to those who are beloved of God, and walk in the
Spirit of truth, whether they pay or receive honour, which is but
transitory and profitless. To the true Christian the world assumes
another and more interesting appearance; it is no longer a stage for
the great and noble, for the ambitious to fret in, and the wealthy to
revel in; but it is a scene of probation. Every soul is a candidate
for immortality. And the more we realize this view of things, the more
will the accidental distinctions of nature or fortune die away from our
view, and we shall be led habitually to pray, that upon every Christian
may descend, in rich abundance, not merely worldly goods, but that
heavenly grace which alone can turn this world to good account for us,
and make it the path of peace and of life everlasting.
[1] Prov. xxx. 8.
[2] Eccles. i. 18.
[3] 1 Tim. i. 19.
[4] 2 Chron. xxxii. 31.
[5] 1 Sam. xvii. 37.
[6] 1 Kings xi. 1, 4, 5.
[7] Ps. xciv. 12.
[8] 2 Cor. xii. 7.
[9] Mark x. 23.
[10] James ii. 5.
[11] Matt. xx. 27, xxiii. 8.
[12] 1 Cor. xii. 31.
[13] 1 Tim. iv. 4.
[14] 1 Matt. xxiii. 19.
SERMON VI.
The Season of Epiphany.
"_This beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana of Galilee, and
manifested forth His glory; and His disciples believed on Him._"--John
ii. 11.
The Epiphany is a season especially set apart for adoring the glory of
Christ. The word may be taken to mean the manifestation of His glory,
and leads us to the contemplation of Him as a King upon His throne in
the midst of His court, with His servants around Him, and His guards in
attendance. At Christmas we commemorate His grace; and in Lent His
temptation; and on Good Friday His sufferings and death; and on Easter
Day His victory; and on Holy Thursday His return to the Father; and in
Advent we anticipate His second coming. And in all of these seasons He
does something, or suffers something: but in the Epiphany and the weeks
after it, we celebrate Him, not as on His field of battle, or in His
solitary retreat, but as an august and glorious King; we view Him as
the Object of our worship. Then only, during His whole earthly
history, did He fulfil the type of Solomon, and held (as I may say) a
court, and received the homage of His subjects; viz. when He was an
infant. His throne was His undefiled Mother's arms; His chamber of
state was a cottage or a cave; the worshippers were the wise men of the
East, and they brought presents, gold, frankincense, and myrrh. All
around and about Him seemed of earth, except to the eye of faith; one
note alone had He of Divinity. As great men of this world are often
plainly dressed, and look like other men, all but as having some one
costly ornament on their breast or on their brow; so the Son of Mary in
His lowly dwelling, and in an infant's form, was declared to be the Son
of God Most High, the Father of Ages, and the Prince of Peace, by His
star; a wonderful appearance which had guided the wise men all the way
from the East, even unto Bethlehem.
This being the character of this Sacred Season, our services throughout
it, as far as they are proper to it, are full of the image of a king in
his royal court, of a sovereign surrounded by subjects, of a glorious
prince upon a throne. There is no thought of war, or of strife, or of
suffering, or of triumph, or of vengeance connected with the Epiphany,
but of august majesty, of power, of prosperity, of splendour, of
serenity, of benignity. Now, if at any time, it is fit to say, "The
Lord is in His holy temple, let all the earth keep silence before
Him[1]." "The Lord sitteth above the waterflood, and the Lord remaineth
a king for ever." "The Lord of Hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is
our refuge." "O come, let us worship, and fall down, and kneel before
the Lord our Maker." "O magnify the Lord our God, and fall down before
His footstool, for He is Holy." "O worship the Lord in the beauty of
holiness; bring presents, and come into His courts."
I said that at this time of year the portions of our services which are
proper to the season are of a character to remind us of a king on his
throne, receiving the devotion of his subjects. Such is the narrative
itself, already referred to, of the coming of the wise men, who sought
Him with their gifts from a place afar off, and fell down and
worshipped Him. Such too, is the account of His baptism, which forms
the Second Lesson of the feast of the Epiphany, when the Holy Ghost
descended on Him, and a Voice from heaven acknowledged Him to be the
Son of God. And if we look at the Gospels read throughout the season,
we shall find them all containing some kingly action of Christ, the
Mediator between God and man. Thus in the Gospel for the First Sunday,
He manifests His glory in the temple at the age of twelve years,
sitting among the doctors, and astonishing them with His wisdom. In
the Gospel for the Second Sunday He manifests His glory at the wedding
feast, when He turned the water into wine, a miracle not of necessity
or urgency, but especially an august and bountiful act--the act of a
King, who out of His abundance gave a gift to His own, therewith to
make merry with their friends. In the Third Sunday, the leper worships
Christ, who thereupon heals him; the centurion, again, reminds Him of
His Angels and ministers, and He speaks the word, and his servant is
restored forthwith. In the Fourth, a storm arises on the lake, while
He is peacefully sleeping, without care or sorrow, on a pillow; then He
rises and rebukes the winds and the sea, and a calm follows, deep as
that of His own soul, and the beholders worship Him. And next He casts
out Legion, after the man possessed with it had also "run and
worshipped Him[2]." In the Fifth, we hear of His kingdom on earth, and
of the enemy sowing tares amid the good seed. And in the Sixth, of His
second Epiphany from heaven, "with power and great glory."
Such is the series of manifestations which the Sundays after the
Epiphany bring before us. When He is with the doctors in the temple.
He is manifested as a prophet--in turning the water into wine, as a
priest--in His miracles of healing, as a bounteous Lord, giving out of
His abundance--in His rebuking the sea, as a Sovereign, whose word is
law--in the parable of the wheat and tares, as a guardian and ruler--in
His second coming, as a lawgiver and judge.
And as in these Gospels we hear of our Saviour's greatness, so in the
Epistles and First Lessons we hear of the privileges and the duties of
the new people, whom He has formed to show forth His praise.
Christians are at once the temple of Christ, and His worshippers and
ministers _in_ the temple; they are the Bride of the Lamb taken
collectively, and taken individually, they are the friends of the
Bridegroom and the guests at the marriage feast. In these various
points of view are they presented to us in the Services during these
weeks. In the Lessons from the prophet Isaiah we read of the gifts and
privileges, the characteristics, the power, the fortunes of the
Church--how widely spreading, even throughout all the Gentiles; how
awful and high, how miraculously endowed, how revered, how powerful
upon earth, how rich in temporal goods, how holy, how pure in doctrine,
how full of the Spirit. And in the Epistles for the successive
Sundays, we hear of the duties and distinguishing marks of her true
members, principally as laid down in the twelfth and thirteenth
chapters of St. Paul to the Romans; then as the same Apostle enjoins
them upon the Colossians; and then in St. John's exhortations in his
General Epistle.
The Collects are of the same character, as befit the supplications of
subjects coming before their King. The first is for knowledge and
power, the second is for peace, the third is for strength in our
infirmities, the fourth is for help in temptation, the fifth is for
protection, and the sixth is for preparation and purification against
Christ's second coming. There is none which would suit a season of
trial, or of repentance, or of waiting, or of exultation--they befit a
season of peace, thanksgiving, and adoration, when Christ is not
manifested in pain, conflict, or victory, but in the tranquil
possession of His kingdom.
It will be sufficient to make one reflection, which suggests itself
from what I have been saying.
You will observe, then, that the only display of royal greatness, the
only season of majesty, homage, and glory, which our Lord had on earth,
was in His infancy and youth. Gabriel's message to Mary was in its
style and manner such as befitted an Angel speaking to Christ's Mother.
Elisabeth, too, saluted Mary, and the future Baptist his hidden Lord,
in the same honourable way. Angels announced His birth, and the
shepherds worshipped. A star appeared, and the wise men rose from the
East and made Him offerings. He was brought to the temple, and Simeon
took Him in His arms, and returned thanks for Him. He grew to twelve
years old, and again He appeared in the temple, and took His seat in
the midst of the doctors. But here His earthly majesty had its end, or
if seen afterwards, it was but now and then, by glimpses and by sudden
gleams, but with no steady sustained light, and no diffused radiance.
We are told at the close of the last-mentioned narrative, "And He went
down with His parents, and came to Nazareth, _and was subjected, unto
them_[3]." His subjection and servitude now began in fact. He had
come in the form of a servant, and now He took on Him a servant's
office. How much is contained in the idea of His subjection! and it
began, and His time of glory ended, when He was twelve years old.
Solomon, the great type of the Prince of Peace, reigned forty years,
and his name and greatness was known far and wide through the East.
Joseph, the much-loved son of Jacob, who in an earlier age of the
Church, was a type of Christ in His kingdom, was in power and favour
eighty years, twice as long as Solomon. But Christ, the true Revealer
of secrets, and the Dispenser of the bread of life, the true wisdom and
majesty of the Father, manifested His glory but in His early years, and
then the Sun of Righteousness was clouded. For He was not to reign
really, till He left the world. He has reigned ever since; nay,
reigned in the world, though He is not in sensible presence in it--the
invisible King of a visible kingdom--for He came on earth but to show
what His reign would be, after He had left it, and to submit to
suffering and dishonour, that He _might_ reign.
It often happens, that when persons are in serious illnesses, and in
delirium in consequence, or other disturbance of mind, they have some
few minutes of respite in the midst of it, when they are even more than
themselves, as if to show us what they really are, and to interpret for
us what else would be dreary. And again, some have thought that the
minds of children have on them traces of something more than earthly,
which fade away as life goes on, but are the promise of what is
intended for them hereafter. And somewhat in this way, if we may dare
compare ourselves with our gracious Lord, in a parallel though higher
way, Christ descends to the shadows of this world, with the transitory
tokens on Him of that future glory into which He could not enter till
He had suffered. The star burned brightly over Him for awhile, though
it then faded away.
We see the same law, as it may be called, of Divine Providence in other
cases also. Consider, for instance, how the prospect of our Lord's
passion opens upon the Apostles in the sacred history. Where did they
hear of it? "Moses and Elias on the mountain appeared with Him in
glory, and spake of His decease, which He should accomplish at
Jerusalem[4]." That is, the season of His bitter trial was preceded by
a short gleam of the glory which was to be, when He was suddenly
transfigured, "and the fashion of His countenance was altered, and His
raiment was white and glistering[5]." And with this glory in prospect,
our Lord abhorred not to die: as it is written, "Who for the joy that
was set before Him, endured the Cross, despising the shame."
Again, He forewarned His Apostles that they in like manner should be
persecuted, for righteousness' sake, and be afflicted and delivered up,
and hated and killed. Such was to be their life in this world, "that
if in this world only they had had hope in Christ, they had been of all
men most miserable[6]." Well then, observe, their trial too was
preceded by a season of peace and pleasantness, in anticipation of
their future reward; for before the day of Pentecost, for forty days
Christ was with them, soothing, comforting, confirming them, "and
speaking of the things pertaining unto the kingdom of God[7]." As
Moses stood on the mount and saw the promised land and all its riches,
and yet Joshua had to fight many battles before he got possession, so
did the Apostles, before descending into the valley of the shadow of
death, whence nought of heaven was to be seen, stand upon the heights,
and look over that valley, which they had to cross, to the city of the
living God beyond it.
And so again, St. Paul, after many years of toil, refers back to a time
when he had a celestial vision, anticipatory of what was to be his
blessedness in the end. "I knew a man in Christ," he says, meaning
himself, "about fourteen years ago, caught up to the third
heaven. . . . And I knew such a man . . . how that he was caught up
into Paradise, and heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful for
a man to utter[8]." St. Paul then, as the twelve Apostles, and as our
Lord before him, had his brief season of repose and consolation before
the battle.
And lastly: the whole Church also may be said to have had a similar
mercy vouchsafed to it at first, in anticipation of what is to be in
the end. We know, alas, too well, that, according to our Lord's
account of it, tares are to be with the wheat, fish of every kind in
the net, all through its sojourning on earth. But in the end, "the
saints shall stand before the throne of God, and serve Him day and
night in His temple: and the Lamb shall feed them, and shall lead them
unto living fountains of waters," and there shall be no more "sorrow
nor pain, nor any thing that defileth or worketh abomination," "for
without are dogs, and sorcerers, and whoremongers, and murderers, and
idolaters, and whosoever loveth and maketh a lie." Now was not this
future glory shadowed forth in that infancy of the Church, when before
the seal of the new dispensation was opened and trial began, "there was
silence in heaven for half an hour;" and "the disciples continued daily
with one accord in the temple, and in prayers, breaking bread from
house to house, being of one heart, and of one soul, eating their meat
with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God, and having favour
with all the people[9];" while hypocrites and "liars," like Ananias and
Sapphira, were struck dead, and "sorcerers," like Simon, were detected
and denounced?
To conclude; let us thankfully cherish all seasons of peace and joy
which are vouchsafed us here below. Let us beware of abusing them, and
of resting in them, of forgetting that they _are_ special privileges,
of neglecting to look out for trouble and trial, as our due and our
portion. Trial is our portion here--we must not think it strange when
trial comes after peace. Still God mercifully does grant a respite now
and then; and perhaps He grants it to us the more, the more careful we
are not to abuse it. For all seasons we must thank Him, for time of
sorrow and time of joy, time of warfare and time of peace. And the
more we thank Him for the one, the more we shall be drawn to thank Him
for the other. Each has its own proper fruit, and its own peculiar
blessedness. Yet our mortal flesh shrinks from the one, and of itself
prefers the other;--it prefers rest to toil, peace to war, joy to
sorrow, health to pain and sickness. When then Christ gives us what is
pleasant, let us take it as a refreshment by the way, that we may, when
God calls, go in the strength of that meat forty days and forty nights
unto Horeb, the mount of God. Let us rejoice in Epiphany with
trembling, that at Septuagesima we may go into the vineyard with the
labourers with cheerfulness, and may sorrow in Lent with thankfulness;
let us rejoice now, not as if we have attained, but in hope of
attaining. Let us take our present happiness, not as our true rest,
but, as what the land of Canaan was to the Israelites,--a type and
shadow of it. If we now enjoy God's ordinances, let us not cease to
pray that they may prepare us for His presence hereafter. If we enjoy
the presence of friends, let them remind us of the communion of saints
before His throne. Let us trust in nothing here, yet draw hope from
every thing--that at length the Lord may be our everlasting light, and
the days of our mourning may be ended.
[1] Hab. ii. 20.
[2] Mark v. 6.
[3] Luke ii. 51.
[4] Luke ix. 30, 31.
[5] Luke ix. 29.
[6] 1 Cor. xv. 19.
[7] Acts i. 3.
[8] 2 Cor. xii. 3, 4.
[9] Acts ii. 46, 47.
SERMON VII.
The Duty of Self-Denial.
"_Surely I have behaved and quieted myself, as a child that is weaned
of his mother: my soul is even as a weaned child._"--Psalm cxxxi. 2.
Self-denial of some kind or other is involved, as is evident, in the
very notion of renewal and holy obedience. To change our hearts is to
learn to love things which we do not naturally love--to unlearn the
love of this world; but this involves, of course, a thwarting of our
natural wishes and tastes. To be righteous and obedient implies
self-command; but to possess power we must have gained it; nor can we
gain it without a vigorous struggle, a persevering warfare against
ourselves. The very notion of being religious implies self-denial,
because by nature we do not love religion.
Self-denial, then, is a subject never out of place in Christian
teaching; still more appropriate is it at a time like this, when we
have entered upon the forty days of Lent, the season of the year set
apart for fasting and humiliation.