attempt the more difficult, but the equally necessary and more permanent
labour—that of attacking the disease of barbarism, not merely in its
symptoms, but in its very roots and its causes; if they will recognise
the fact, that with the disease there coexists a great deal of sturdy and
useful health; if they will have courage and address to face, not merely
the non-working, non-earning, and generally non-thinking hundreds, but
the working, earning, thinking thousands of each parish; in fact, the men
and women who make London what it is; if they will approach them with
charity, confidence, and respect; if they will remember that they are
justly jealous of that personal independence, that civil and religious
liberty, which is theirs by law and right; if they will conduct
themselves, not as lords over God’s heritage, but as examples to the
flock; if they will treat that flock, not as their subjects, but as their
friends, their fellow-workers, their fellow-counsellors—often their
advisers; if they will remember that ‘Give and take, live and let live,’
are no mere worldly maxims, but necessary, though difficult Christian
duties; then, I believe, they will after awhile receive an answer to
their call such as they dare not as yet expect; such an answer as our
forefathers gave to the clergy of the early Middle Age, when they showed
them that the kingdom of God was the messenger of civilization, of
humanity, of justice and peace, of strength and well-being in this world,
as well as in the next. The clergy would find in the men and women of
London not merely disciples, but helpers. They would meet, not with
fanatical excitement, not even with enthusiasm, not even with much
outward devotion; but with co-operation, hearty and practical though slow
and quiet—co-operation all the more valuable, in every possible sense,
because it will be free and voluntary; and the Bishop of London’s Fund
would receive more and more assistance, not merely of heads and hands,
but of money when money was needed, from the inhabitants of the very
poorest and most heathen districts, as they began to feel that they were
giving their money towards a common blessing, and became proud to pay
their share towards an organization which would belong to them, and to
their children after them.
So runs my dream. This may be done: God grant that it may! For now, it
may be, is our best chance of doing it. Now is the accepted time; now is
the day of salvation. If these masses increase in numbers and in power
for another generation, in their present state of anarchy, they may be
lost for ever to Christianity, to order, to civilization. But if we can
civilize, in that sense which is both classical and Christian, the masses
of London, and of England, by that parochial method which has been
(according to history) the only method yet discovered, then we shall have
helped, not only to save innumerable souls from sin, and from that misery
which is the inevitable and everlasting consequence of sin, but we shall
have helped to save them from a specious and tawdry barbarism, such as
corrupted and enervated the seemingly civilized masses of the later Roman
empire; and to save our country, within the next century, from some such
catastrophe as overtook the Jewish monarchy in spite of all its outward
religiosity; the catastrophe which has overtaken every nation which has
fancied itself sound and whole, while it was really broken, sick, weak,
ripe for ruin. For such, every nation or empire becomes, though the
minority above be never so well organized, civilized, powerful, educated,
even virtuous, if the majority below are not a people of citizens, but
masses of incoherent atoms, ready to fall to pieces before every storm.
From that, and from all adversities, may God deliver us, and our children
after us, by graciously beholding this His Family, for which our Lord
Jesus Christ was content to suffer death upon the Cross; and by pouring
out His Spirit upon all estates of men in His holy Church, that every
member of the same, in his calling and ministry, may freely and godly
serve Him; till we have no longer the shame and sorrow of praying for
English men and women, as we do for Jews, Turks, infidels, and heretics,
that God would take from them all ignorance, hardness of heart, and
contempt of His Word, and fetch them home to that flock of His, to which
they all belong!
SERMON XX.
THE GOD OF NATURE.
(_Preached during a wet harvest_.)
PSALM cxlvii. 7–9.
Sing unto the Lord with thanksgiving; sing praise upon the harp unto
our God: who covereth the heaven with clouds, who prepareth rain for
the earth, who maketh grass to grow upon the mountains. He giveth to
the beast his food, and to the young ravens which cry.
THERE is no reason why those who wrote this Psalm, and the one which
follows it, should have looked more cheerfully on the world about them
than we have a right to do. The country and climate of Judea is not much
superior to ours. If we suffer at times from excess of rain and wind,
Judea suffers from excess of drought and sunshine. It suffers, too, at
times, from that most terrible of earthly calamities, from which we are
free—namely, from earthquakes. The sea, moreover, instead of being
loved, as it is by us, as the highway of our commerce, and the producer
of vast stores of food—the sea, I say, was almost feared by the old Jews,
who were no sailors. They looked on it as a dangerous waste; and were
thankful to God that, though the waves roared, He had set them a bound
which they could not pass.
So that there is no reason why the old Jews should think and speak more
cheerfully about the world than we here in England ought. They had, too,
the same human afflictions, sicknesses, dangers, disappointments, losses
and chastisements as we have. They had their full share of all the ills
to which flesh is heir. Yet look, I beg you, at the cheerfulness of
these two Psalms, the 147th and 148th. In truth, it is more than
cheerfulness; it is joy, rejoicing which can only express itself in a
song.
These Psalms are songs, to be sung to music, and even in our translation
they are songs still, sounding like poetry, and not like prose.
And why is this? Because the men who wrote these Psalms had faith in
God.
They trusted God. They saw that He was worthy of their trust. They saw
that He was to be honoured, not merely for His boundless wisdom and His
boundless power: for a being might have them, and yet make a bad use of
them. But He was to be trusted, because He was a good God. He was to be
honoured, not for anything which men might get out of Him (as the heathen
fancied) by flattering Him, and begging of Him: but He was to be honoured
for His own sake, for what He was in Himself—a just, merciful, kind,
generous, magnanimous, and utterly noble and perfect, moral Being, worthy
of all admiration, praise, honour, and glory.
The Psalmist saw that God was good, and worthy to be praised. But he
saw, too, that he and his forefathers would never have found out that for
themselves. It was too great a discovery for man to make. God must have
showed it to them. God had showed His word to Jacob, His statutes and
ordinances to Israel.
He had not done so to any other nation, neither had the heathen knowledge
of His laws. And, therefore, they did not trust God; they did not
consider Him a good God, and so they worshipped Baalim, the sun and moon
and stars, with silly and foul ceremonies, to procure from them good
harvests; and burnt their children in the fire to Moloch, the fire-king,
to keep off the earthquakes and the floods. God had not taught them what
He had taught Israel—to trust in Him, and in His word which ran very
swiftly, and in His laws, which could not be broken: a faith which, my
friends, we must do our best to keep up in ourselves, and in our children
after us. For it is very easy to lose it, this faith in God. We are
tempted to lose it, all our lives long.
Our forefathers, in the days of Popery, lost it; and because they did not
trust in God as a good God, who took good care of the world which He had
made, they fell to believing that the devil, and witches, the servants of
the devil, could raise storms, blight crops, strike cattle and human
beings with disease. And they began, too, to pray, not to God, but to
certain saints in heaven, to protect them against bodily ills.
One saint could cure one disease, and one another; one saint protected
the cattle, another kept off thunder, and so forth—I will not tell you
more, lest I should tempt you to smile in this holy place; and tempt you,
too, to look down on your forefathers, who (though they made these
mistakes) were just as honest and virtuous men as we.
And even lately, up to this very time, there are those who have not full
faith in God; though they be good and pious persons, and good Protestants
too, who would shrink with horror from worshipping saints, or any being
save God alone. But they are apt to shut their eyes to the beauty and
order of God’s world, and to the glory of God set forth therein, and to
excuse themselves by quoting unfairly texts of Scripture. They say that
this world is all out of joint; corrupt, and cursed for Adam’s sin: yet,
where it is out of joint, and where it is corrupt, they cannot show.
And, as for its being cursed for Adam’s sin, that is a dream which is
contradicted by Holy Scripture itself. For see. We read in Genesis iii.
17, ‘Cursed is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it
all the days of thy life; thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth
to thee.’
Now, that the ground does not now bring forth thorns and thistles to us,
we know. For it brings forth whatsoever fair flower, or useful herb, we
plant therein, according to the laws of nature, which are the laws of
God. Neither do men eat thereof in sorrow; but, as Solomon says, ‘eat
their bread in joyfulness of heart.’ And so did they in the Psalmist’s
days; who never speak of the tillage of the land without some expression
of faith and confidence, and thankfulness to that God who crowns the year
with His goodness, and His clouds drop fatness; while the hills rejoice
on every side, and the valleys stand so thick with corn, that they laugh
and sing—of faith, I say, and gratitude toward that God who brings forth
the grass for the cattle, and green herb for the service of men; who
brings food out of the earth, and wine to make glad the heart of man, and
oil to give him a cheerful countenance, and bread to strengthen man’s
heart. Those well-known words are in the 104th Psalm; and I ask any
reasonable person to read that Psalm through—the Psalm which contains the
Jewish natural theology, the Jew’s view of this world, and of God’s will
and dealings with it—and then say, could a man have written it who
thought that there was any curse upon this earth on account of man’s sin?
But more. The Book of Genesis says that there is none; for, after it has
said in the third chapter, ‘Cursed is the ground for thy sake,’ it says
again, in the eighth chapter, verse 21, ‘And the Lord said in His heart,
I will not again curse the ground for man’s sake. While the earth
remaineth, seed-time and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, shall
not cease.’
Can any words be plainer? Whatever the curse in Adam’s days may have
been, does not the Book of Genesis represent it as being formally
abrogated and taken away in the days of Noah, that the regular course of
nature, fruitful and beneficent, might endure thenceforth?
Accordingly, we hear no more in the Bible anywhere of this same curse.
We hear instead the very opposite; for one says, in the 119th Psalm,
speaking indeed of God, ‘O Lord, Thy word endureth for ever in heaven.
Thy truth also remaineth from one generation to another. Thou hast laid
the foundation of the earth, and it abideth. They continue this day
according to Thine ordinance: for all things serve Thee.’ And so in the
148th Psalm, another speaks by the Spirit of God; ‘Let all things praise
the name of the Lord: for He commanded, and they were created. He hath
also established them for ever and ever: He hath given them a law which
shall not be broken.’
Yes, my friends, God’s law shall not be broken, and it is not broken.
And that faith, that the laws which govern the whole material universe,
cannot be broken, will be to us faith full of hope, and joy, and
confidence, if we will remember, with the Psalmist, that they are the
laws of the living God, and of the good God.
They are the laws of the living God: not the laws of nature, or fate, or
necessity—all three words which mean little or nothing—but of a living
God in whom we live, and move, and have our being; whose word—the
creating, organizing, inspiring word—runneth very swiftly, making all
things to obey God, and not themselves.
And they are the laws of a good God; of a moral God; of a generous,
loving, just, and merciful God, who, as the Psalmist reminds us (and that
is the reason of his confidence and his joy), while He telleth the number
of the stars, and calleth them all by their names, condescends at the
same time to heal those who are broken in heart; of a God who, while He
giveth fodder to the cattle, and feedeth the young ravens who call on
Him, at the same time careth for those who fear Him, and put their trust
in His mercy; of a God who, while His power is great and His wisdom
infinite, at the same time sets up the meek, and brings the ungodly down
to the ground; of a Father in heaven who is perfect in this—that He sends
His sun and rain alike on the just and the unjust, and is good to the
unthankful and the evil; of a Father, lastly, who so loved the world,
that He spared not His only-begotten Son, but freely gave Him for us, and
has committed to that Son all power in heaven and earth;—all power over
the material world, which we call nature, as well as over the moral
world, which is the hearts and spirits of men—to that Word of God who
runneth very swiftly, who is sharper than a two-edged sword, and yet more
tender than the love of woman; even Jesus Christ the Saviour, the Word of
God, who was in the beginning with God, and was God; by whom all things
were made; who is the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh
into the world, if by any means he will receive the light of God, and see
thereby the true and wise laws of Nature and of Spirit.
This is our God. This is He who sends food and wealth, rain and
sunshine. Shall we not trust Him? If we thank Him for plenty, and fine
weather, which we see to be blessings without doubt, shall we not trust
Him for scarcity and bad weather, which do not seem to us to be
blessings, and yet may be blessings nevertheless? Shall we not believe
that His very chastisements are mercies? Shall we not accept them in
faith, as the child takes from its parent’s hand bitter medicine, the use
of which it cannot see; but takes it in faith that its parent knows best,
and that its parent’s purpose is only love and benevolence? Shall we not
say with Job—Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him? He cannot mean
my harm; He must mean my good, and the good of all mankind. He must—even
by such seeming calamities as great rains, or failure of crops—even by
them He must be benefiting mankind. Recollect, as a single instance,
that the great rains of 1860, which terrified so many, are proved now to
have saved some thousands of lives in England from fever and similar
diseases. Take courage; and have, as the old Psalmist had, faith in God.
Believe that nothing goes wrong in this world, save through the sin, and
folly, and ignorance of man; that God is always right, always wise,
always benevolent: and be sure that you, each and all, are—
‘Safe in the hand of one disposing Power,
Or in the natal, or the mortal hour,
All nature is but art, unknown to thee;
All chance, discretion which thou can it not see.
All discord, harmony not understood;
All partial evil, universal good;
And spite of pride, in erring reason’s spite,
One truth is clear—whatever is, is right.’
And pray to God that He may fill you with His Spirit, the spirit of
wisdom and understanding, of knowledge and grace of the Lord, and show to
you, as He showed to the Jews of old, His laws and judgments, and so
teach you how to see that the only thing on earth which is not right,
is—the sin of man.