but send them to him now, to brighten and bless his life. Mary did not
reserve her alabaster box of perfume till her Lord was dead, she filled
the whole house with sweetness where the living Jesus was. Let us do
likewise. If we have an alabaster box of love and tenderness, let us
not keep it sealed till our friends are dead. Pour forth the sweetness
of loving words and kindly thoughts now, make their lives happy, you
cannot "charm the dull, cold ear of death" with your praises. When we
die we have done with the troubles of this world, and its flowers, and
its pleasant things concern us not. But now that we are alive, and
have to bear many hours of suffering and sorrow, kind, loving words,
and the touch of gentle hands, and the help of strong arms, cheer and
strengthen us like the sight of flowers, or the perfume of Mary's gift.
Scatter your choicest blossoms upon men's lives, instead of on their
coffins. Blessed are they whose lives are like the violets, making the
homes and lives of others sweet and fragrant.
"There be fair violet lives that bloom unseen
In dewy shade, unvext by any care;
And they who live them wear the flower-like face
Of simple pureness, which, amid the crowd
Of haggard brows, strikes like a sweet perfume
Upon the jaded sense."
This world would be far more like Paradise, and less like the howling
wilderness which it is to so many, if men would show love and mercy to
their fellow men. Nothing opens the heart to angels' visits, and shuts
them against the attacks of Satan, like love. Truly it has been said,
"the heart of him who loves, is a Paradise on earth; he hath God in
himself, for God is love."
We are sent into the world to make each other happy, by showing mercy
and kindness. "Some men move through life as a band of music moves
down a street, flinging out pleasure on every side through the air, to
every one, far and near, who can listen. Some men fill the air with
their presence and sweetness, as orchards in October days fill the air
with perfume of ripe fruit. Some women cling to their own homes like
the honeysuckle over the door, yet, like it, sweeten all the region
with the subtle fragrance of their goodness. There are trees of
righteousness which are ever dropping precious fruit around them."
Blessed are those lives which make others better and happier, purer,
and stronger, verily they have their reward.
Again, we can show mercy by _forgiving those who injure us_. Few
things are more talked of, and less practised, than the duty of
forgiveness. This world is darkened by the stinging hail of spite, and
vindictive bitterness, just because people who have been wronged by
others will not be reconciled, will not forgive. If you believe in
prayer, you ask God for pardon every day, but is not that something
like mockery, if you from your hearts do not forgive another's
trespasses? And remember also that forgiveness does not mean merely
abstaining from injuring one who has wronged us. We must try to do
such an one good if we can. Once, after a great battle, an English
officer, accompanied by his orderly, was examining the wounded on the
field. He came to one of the enemy who was badly hurt. "Give him a
drink of water," said the officer. As he turned aside, the wounded man
raised his rifle and fired at the officer, the bullet just missing him.
"Give him the water all the same," was the order of the brave man who
knew how to forgive.
Time would fail me to speak of the many ways in which we may show
mercy. Kind judgment of another's motives, patient bearing with
another's temper, gentle sympathy with another's weakness, noble
self-sacrifice for another's good, all these are signs of the life of
mercy. Let me tell you, in ending, that mercy ever brings its sweet
reward. Each act of lovingkindness comes back to us with abundant
interest. "Good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and
running over."
Once, a farmer, out on the Western Prairies of America, started for a
distant town, to receive some money due to him. As he left his house,
his only child, a little girl, clung lovingly to him, and reminded him
of his promise to bring her home a present. Late on the same night the
farmer left the town on his way home. The night was very dark and
stormy, and he was yet far from his home, and in the wildest part of
the road, when he heard the cry of a child. The farmer thought that it
might be the device of some robber, as he was known to carry money with
him. He was weary and wet with his journey, and inclined to hasten on,
but again the cry reached him. The farmer determined that whatever
happened he must search for the child, if child there were. Groping in
the darkness, at last he found a little figure, drenched with rain, and
shivering with cold. Wrapping his cloak about the child, he rode
homewards as fast as possible, but when he reached his house, he found
it full of neighbours, standing round his weeping wife. One said to
another, "do not tell him, it will drive him mad." Then, the farmer
set down his bundle, and his wife with a cry of joy saw that it was
their own lost child. The little one had set forth to meet her father,
and had missed her way. The man had, without knowing it, saved his own
daughter. "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy."
SERMON XL.
THE WORDS OF OUR LIPS.
(Fifth Sunday after Trinity.)
1 S. PETER iii. 10.
"For he that will love life, and see good days, let him refrain his
tongue from evil, and his lips that they speak no guile."
Among the scientific wonders of the day, one of the most remarkable is
the telephone, by which we can hear each other's words at a
considerable distance. By means of that instrument the sermon of the
preacher, the music of the singer, the weighty words of the wise, and
the silly babble of the foolish, can be carried over a great space.
Have you ever thought, brethren, that if a telephone could be invented
sufficiently large to convey the words uttered in one day in one of our
great cities, or even in this place, what a babel of strange discordant
sounds would come to our ears? What a mixture of wisdom and folly,
love and hate, selfishness and self-denial, would be heard! Few of us
would be the happier for hearing all the talk of their town or parish
for one day. Now, God does hear every word spoken throughout the
world. All that men say, good or bad, wise or foolish, is known to
that God to whom all hearts are open, and from whom no secrets are hid.
And more than this, these words of ours are noted in God's Book of
Remembrance, from which we shall one day be judged. When a man is
taken into custody on suspicion of having committed some crime, he is
always warned that whatever he may say will be used in evidence against
him. Such a man is very careful to keep a curb upon his tongue. My
brothers, we have all need to remember that for every idle word we must
give account, and that what we say every day of our life will be used
as evidence against us, since "by our words we shall be justified, and
by our words we shall be condemned."
I have read of one of old time who, being unable to read, came to a
Priest, and asked to be taught a Psalm. Having learnt the verse, "I
said I will take heed to my ways, that I offend not with my tongue," he
went away, saying that was enough if it were carried out practically.
Six months later he was asked why he had not come to learn another
Psalm, and he answered simply that he had not yet been able to master
what he had learned already.
Most important, then, and most necessary among Christian duties, is
control of the tongue, and yet it is much neglected. Many, who would
hesitate to do a foolish or wicked thing, do not scruple to say what is
both unwise and wrong. There are men living respectable and clean
lives who yet love to tell an unclean story. There are those who sing
God's praises in Church, and pray earnestly, and with the same tongue
swear and use bad language when their temper is ruffled. Out of the
same mouth proceed blessing and cursing. There are some good mothers,
perhaps, who would shudder at a bad word, or an immodest story, who yet
habitually sin with their tongue. They shoot out their arrows, even
bitter words, which wound a sister's reputation, and leave scars which
never pass away. Truly says a well-known writer, "Heaven keep us from
the destroying power of words. There are words which sever hearts more
than sharp swords do; there are words, the points of which sting the
heart through the course of a whole life."
My brothers, we all, like a deadly serpent, carry a fearful weapon in
our tongue, and woe unto our happiness, and that of others, if the
poison of asps is under our lips. No one has learnt aright the lessons
of Christianity unless he can curb his tongue. We dare not call
ourselves followers of Him who went about doing good, and spake as
never man spake, if we go about with lies, with cruel speeches, with
the sneering sarcasm which maddens, and the unjust judgment which
kills. Let us put this matter before ourselves very practically, and
think of some words from which we must restrain our mouth as it were
with a bridle. First, let us guard against the _unkind word_ of every
class. This world is full of sunshine, and flowers, and singing birds,
because God is full of kindness. So, if we would find sunshine in our
life, and flowers about our path, we must be kindly affectioned one to
another, pitiful, courteous, in our words. The man who goes through
life saying cruel things is like a musical instrument out of tune,
whose only sounds are discord. It is the kindly tongue which makes
"the music of men's lives." Think what an unkind word can do! It can,
and has, parted husband and wife, parent and child, for ever. It has
driven a man from the Paradise of home, to the cold, outer world of
lonely misery. It has blighted a young life as a cruel frost kills the
budding may. It has embittered a parent's declining years, and brought
down grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. Of all miseries, surely one
of the greatest must be to stand by the open grave of some friend, and
to feel that the poor heart, lying cold and still beneath us, has been
wounded by our cruel and unkindly words. O sons and daughters, take
heed to your words, lest when you lay father or mother in the grave
there comes the sad accusing whisper, "my angry temper, and my
thoughtless tongue, saddened my parent's last days on earth." A great
English writer said sadly, "What would I give to call my mother back to
earth for one day, to ask her pardon upon my knees for all those things
by which I gave her gentle spirit pain." Watch and pray against unkind
words, they never did, or can do, good. They never softened a hard
heart, or convinced an unbeliever, or converted a sinner. You cannot
shape lives into beauty by hard words, as you can a stone by hard
blows. Say a kindly word whenever you have the opportunity, and you
will be like one sowing the seed of a fragrant flower, which will bring
sweetness to others, and most surely to yourself. One of the best
lessons we can learn is to be silent at the right time. One of the
greatest of the old Greek philosophers condemned each of his pupils to
five years' silence, that he might learn self-control; and Holy Writ
tells us plainly that a man full of words shall not prosper upon the
earth.
Another which we must guard against is the _discontented word_.
Everywhere around we hear people murmuring, and finding fault. Nearly
everyone whom we meet has some complaint. It is almost a miracle to
find a man who says, "I am well, very happy, and quite contented." Let
the skies be ever so blue, the eyes of the murmurer can discover a
rising cloud. Let to-day be ever so bright and prosperous, the
discontented forsees trouble to-morrow. The greatest and the best of
men appear in his eyes to be full of faults and weaknesses. Everyone
has his price, he says, no man serves God for nought. In a word, he
can see no good in God's world, no beauty in God's creatures, no
blessings in his own life. He can tell you all his misfortunes, but
ask him what good things God has done for him, and he cannot remember.
My brothers, guard against the discontented tongue. It is a grievous
sin against God, and it makes its owner and all around him wretched.
Let the praises of God be in your mouth, and the two-edged sword of
faith in your hand, and you will make your way through all
difficulties, and triumph over all troubles. Count up God's mercies
and blessings every day, and you _cannot_ murmur. Sing the _Te Deum_
oftener, and you will have no time for the miserable ditties of the
discontented. Imitate the bees, who gather sweetness from the common
things of life. Look up to God's bright sky, and not down into the
gloomy cavern of your own heart. Pray to be lifted out of self, and
filled with thoughts of God's love and mercy, then you will be able to
say--
"My heart leaps up when I behold
The rainbow in the sky!
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die."
And next, let us guard against the _untruthful word_ of every kind.
There are hundreds of ways in which men sin against the truth, and yet
the world does not call them by the terrible name, the most shameful of
all names--a liar. The world is very fond of giving wrong names to
certain sins. A man appears in the morning with pale face, and shaking
hand, and lack-lustre eye, and the world says he has been spending a
festive evening, whereas the _truth_ is he has been drunk. The man who
leads an unclean life is pleasantly styled by the world a _fast man_.
God in the Bible calls him by a very different name.
Let us learn to call things by their right names. If what we say is
not quite true it is a lie, neither more nor less. If we go about with
idle tales of our neighbour, tales which have some truth in them, but
not all the truth, then we are verily guilty concerning our brother;
since the truths which are only half truths "are ever the worst of
lies." If in our business we say more than the truth, or less than the
truth, we are verily guilty. A lie is no less a lie because it is
printed in a prospectus, or written up in a shop window. A tradesman
who sells a pair of boots which fall to pieces, or a garment which will
not wear, and tells us that they are good and genuine articles, is just
as false as Ananias himself. I have heard traders declare that they
cannot afford to be honest. This is an utter mistake. Every Christian
man is bound by the vows of his Baptism both to speak and act the
truth. Well says a preacher of our day, "we have dethroned the Most
High in the realm of commerce, and in the place of the Heavenly Majesty
have erected unclean and pestiferous idols; we have put into the holy
place the foul little gods, named Trickery and Cunning. We have tried
to lock God up in the Church, and have shut upon Him the iron gates of
the marketplace."
My brothers, if you would prosper you must have God with you in your
business, guiding your plough, blessing your farm, ruling your trade.
You must have God with you behind the counter of your shop, or your
office, and if God is to be there you _must speak_ the truth. A
Christian man must have nothing to do with an unjust balance, or a
false weight. He must refuse to adulterate his wares, for these things
are lies. The Chinese are in the habit of adulterating some of their
tea for the market, but they are honest enough to call it in their
language _lie tea_. I only wish our traders would do the same when
they offer us false articles under the name of genuine wares. The time
would fail me to tell one quarter of the ways in which God's law of
truth is broken. I may not stay to speak of the false advertisement,
of the highly-coloured description, of the quack medicine, which we are
solemnly told will cure any kind of disease. I would only say, take
the matter home to your own hearts. Whoever you are, make up your mind
that as Christians you must speak the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth. And may the God of all truth give your strength.
SERMON XLI.
ALIVE UNTO GOD.
(Sixth Sunday after Trinity.)
ROMANS vi. 11.
"Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but
alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord."
Every baptised person belongs to God. He is His absolute property,
marked with the sign of the great King. As the broad arrow is the mark
that certain property belongs to the British Government, so the Cross
of Holy Baptism is the sign and pledge that we are God's. Think of
that, my brothers, you are not free to choose your own way, your own
masters; you belong absolutely to Jesus Christ. He made you His
property by taking your flesh, by suffering in it, by dying in it, by
rising with it in triumph. In Baptism you are made partakers of all
these benefits. You are baptised into the Death of Christ that your
old sinful nature may die and be buried. You are baptised too in His
Resurrection, that you may after Baptism begin a new and higher life,
with Jesus as your Ruler and Guide. From this fact come two others;
first that we are not free to sin, because if we do wrong, we sin not
against ourselves, but against Jesus Christ, "whose we are, and whom we
serve." I do not say that sin will not come in our way, will not tempt
us. We must, in passing through the world, encounter foul smells,
hideous sights, dirty roads. But we can turn away from the foul smell,
we can shut our eyes to the bad sight, we can pick our way carefully
over the dirty road. So if sin meets us, we must turn aside from it,
we must stop our eyes and our ears to the evil sight, or sound, we must
try to keep in a clean path. The strength which our Master, Jesus,
gives us in the Sacraments will be sufficient for us. And the second
fact is that, as baptised people, we are never alone, never forsaken.
A great part of our life, and our work, must be solitary, and yet we
are not alone, for God is with us. We must _do our work alone_. No
one can tread the path of duty for us, or fight the good fight on our
behalf. Like the solitary sower in the fields, we are all sent into
this world to sow some seed, to do some work, _alone_. There may be
crowds around us, and yet each of us has his thoughts, and hopes, and
feelings, with which others cannot intermingle; no two men think or
feel exactly in the same way, each of us is alone. We know that we
must fight the battle of life and duty alone, we know that we bear our
sorrows and bereavements alone, we know that alone we must die, and be
judged, and yet, as Christians, we know that Jesus will never leave us,
nor forsake us, that He is with us even unto the end of the world, and
that when most solitary we are _alone with God_.
It is this thought that has strengthened the bravest and best of God's
people in their hour of trial. It was this which enabled Abraham to
leave home and friends, and to seek a land of strangers; he was not
alone, for God was with him. It was this which comforted Joseph in the
Egyptian prison, and enabled him to feel as many another captive has
felt--
"Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for a hermitage."
It was this which nerved Daniel to dare the den of lions, and Shadrach
and his brethren to brave the fiery furnace; they were not alone, for
God was with them. This cheered David when he walked through the
valley of the shadow in his deep repentance; this gave courage to S.
Peter, and S. Paul, and all the noble army of martyrs, to speak boldly
in Christ's Name, and to meet death with a smiling face. This carried
Moses through the desert, and Columbus to the new world, the thought
that in their loneliest hour God was with them.
Yes, and it was the same thought which supported the dead hero, for
whom all England weeps. Day after day passed over Gordon in his lonely
exile far away. Day after day he saw the sunrise flash on the white
walls and fair palm trees of Khartoum, and the sunset redden the desert
sand. Cut off from home, and comrades, and countrymen, far from the
sound of English voices, and of English prayers; there is no more
lonely figure than that of the martyr of duty. Day by day he strained
his eyes to see the rescue which never came, and yet in all this lonely
waiting we cannot believe that the heart of Gordon failed, for he could
say to his God, "I am not alone, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with
me."
Thus, in one sense, every man must stand alone, and yet the Christian
man knows that he is a child of God, and that his Father will never
forsake him. Every one of us must _labour alone_ in the great workshop
of the world. Each of us has his corner where God has placed him to
weave in his little bit of the pattern of this world's history, to add
his little portion of colour to the picture called Life. For each of
us there is the day's work, wherein we can labour, or idle, as we
choose, and for each there comes the night when no man can work. And
what we have to do we must do _alone_. The majority of men who live
the life of duty do so unnoticed and uncared for. They are like those
stars which our eyes never see, but they shine all the same. Such men
work and suffer, and wait till their time comes to join
"The crowd untold of men,
By the cause they served unknown,
Who moulder in myriad graves of old,
Never a story, never a stone."
But such men have the comfort of knowing that they have not run in
vain, neither laboured in vain; they have lived unto God in this world,
and if solitary, they have been alone with God. Again, _we must all
suffer alone_. However kind and sympathetic our friends may be, they
cannot enter into our pains and agonies. They can be sorry for us, but
they cannot feel as we feel. When the body is racked by severe pangs
of suffering, even the presence of friends is too much for us. We want
to be alone, _alone with God_. And this is specially true of the
sorrows of the mind. "The heart knoweth its own bitterness." No one,
not even our nearest and dearest, can go with us to the Gethsemane,
where we suffer, or the Calvary, where we endure our cross. But it is
in these hours of bitterest suffering that the Christian feels that he
is not forsaken. He remembers that his Master, Jesus, trod the
winepress of sorrow alone, and that of the people there was none with
Him. He knows that he is permitted to walk the same lonely path as
Jesus trod before him. He knows that as he kneels in the darkened room
with his solitary sorrow, with his breaking heart, with his sinful soul
bowed down in penitence, that Jesus is with him--he is alone with God.
And again, _we must all die alone_. The moment of death is the most
solitary of all our life. The Prince, with his armies, and crowds of
friends and courtiers, is, at his death, as much alone as the beggar
who drops and dies by the roadside. Loving hands may clasp ours
fondly, but we must let them go. Husband, mother, wife, or child may
cling to us in close embrace, but they cannot detain us, or go with us,
we must die alone. And yet in that most solitary moment the Christian
who is dead unto sin, and living unto God, knows that he is not alone.
He knows that when he has heard the sound of the last voice on earth,
he shall hearken to other voices, never listened to before. When the
last farewell is spoken, and the last hand clasped on earth, there will
come the meeting with a new and glorious company, and the touch of
those dear Hands once wounded for our transgressions. Be sure that
God, who is with us in life, is specially with us in the moment of
death; we die alone, but we are alone with God. My brothers, we are
tempted sometimes to murmur because our life and its work are dull,
monotonous and solitary. Let this thought help us to check the
rebellious sigh, the thought that if we are trying to do our duty, God
is with us, and He that seeth in secret, shall Himself reward us
openly. We may be tempted to cry sometimes in our darkest hours, "My
God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me;" but the loving Hand has not
gone from us, though we cannot feel its touch. Those dark hours often
bring out the light of Christ's great love most clearly. I have seen a
famous picture of the Crucifixion, which shows its sad beauty best when
the window is darkened. Then there seems to shine a light of hope and
splendour behind the Cross, and the face of the Saviour beams with
tenderest love. So when the windows of our life are darkened, when
bereavement, or ill-health, or disappointment come upon us, let us turn
our eyes to the Crucified, and see a new light, a new meaning in our
Saviour's sorrow, and our own. Let us learn that the trouble has come
to lead us apart from the world and its selfish ways, that we may be
alone--alone with God.
SERMON XLII.
SERVANTS OF SIN.
(Seventh Sunday after Trinity.)
ROMANS vi. 20.
"The servants of sin."