believe in Confirmation. My brethren, how does that concern you? I
know certain people who never wash themselves, who never pray; but what
have they to do with us? I am speaking to believers, to Church people,
not to outsiders. I am speaking to those who are baptised into the
Church of Christ, and for whom it was promised that they should be
brought to the Bishop, to be confirmed by him. I think, then, that you
must see that it is _right_ to be confirmed, because the Church has
ordered Confirmation, and used it from the beginning; and next, that it
is good for us to be confirmed, because we are too weak of ourselves to
lead holy lives. Now let me say a word, in ending, to those who have
grown up, grown old, perhaps, without Confirmation. What is their
excuse? They say--I have neglected Confirmation so long, it is not
worth while now. I have gone on so far without it, and I am all right.
My brothers, how do you know that you are all right? You cannot see
into your own heart, God can, and does. You may think you are alive,
and behold, you are dead. You cannot be _all right_ whilst you are
disobeying God. Remember Samson. He knew not that the Spirit of the
Lord had departed from him. What if the Holy Ghost has left you, and
you know it not? What if the Holy Spirit no longer dwells in you, what
must the end of such a life be? Eternal death. Do you tell me that
you have delayed so long that it is too late now? I answer, it is
_not_ too late to mend. Suppose a man to have neglected prayer for
years, is that any reason why he should not begin to pray now?
If any of you have neglected a plain duty, and shrunk from receiving
the precious gifts of the Holy Spirit, make up for the past now; do not
offer excuses, but never rest till you can say with truth, "By the
grace of God I am what I am."
SERMON XLVII.
DEAF EARS AND STAMMERING TONGUES.
(Twelfth Sunday after Trinity.)
S. MARK vii. 37.
"He hath done all things well. He maketh both the deaf to hear, and
the dumb to speak."
Such was the verdict of the people who saw one of our Lord's miracles.
How far more strongly may we say the same, having seen the work of
Christ in the life of the Church at large, and in each of our
individual souls! We cannot look on the world of nature without
echoing the words of the text. No thoughtful man can mark the
spring-time coming to the woods and hedgerows, and waking the sleeping
plants as with the wand of an enchanter, or see the orchards white into
the harvest of fruit, or look into the gold mine of the ripe corn, or
gaze at the slumbering earth in winter, wrapped in its white sleeping
dress of snow, without acknowledging the truth that God hath done all
things well in the _creation_ of the world. No Christian man can look
at the earthly life of Jesus, without feeling that He hath done all
things well in the _redemption_ of the world. Whether we look on Jesus
as the lowly Child, setting an example of obedience, increasing in
favour with God and man; or as the humble worker, showing the dignity
of labour in the workshop of Joseph the carpenter; or as the Friend of
Sinners, teaching the fallen woman at the well; or as the sympathising
Brother of Humanity, weeping for Lazarus, and drying the tears of the
widow; or as the Teacher, speaking as never man spake; or as the Meek
Sufferer, bowed down in Gethsemane, silent before the jibing crowd,
praying for those who nailed Him to the Cross, we must accept the
perfect life, the perfect pattern, and declare--"He hath done all
things well."
But turning from this subject in its wider sense, let us look specially
at the miracle of to-day's Gospel. A man is brought to Jesus, deaf,
and having an impediment in his speech. It is a well-known fact that
those who cannot hear sounds are usually unable to utter them
correctly. Now let us regard this miracle from a spiritual point of
view. There are among us many who are spiritually deaf, and cannot
speak aright. And it is because they are deaf to the voice of God,
that they speak amiss. God utters His voice in many different tones,
but their ears have waxed heavy and they cannot hear. God speaks to us
by the _Voice of Nature_. This world has a myriad of voices for those
who have ears to hear. There is the voice of praise and thanksgiving
going up from singing bird, and rustling forest, and rushing waterfall.
Every flower is an altar of pure incense, offering its sacrifice of a
sweet-smelling savour. "Earth, with ten thousand voices, praises God;"
and yet some of us hear nothing of these things because we are
spiritually deaf. Again, God speaks to us by the _Voice of
Conscience_--a still, small voice, speaking from the innermost
sanctuary of our soul. And some of us hear it not. They have stopped
their ears like the deaf adder, and so they go on wilfully
sinning--deaf to the Voice of God. I have read how a notorious
prisoner, who had been convicted of many serious crimes, was found to
have the whole story of our Lord's crucifixion marked upon his breast.
How utterly deaf to the voice of conscience that man must have been!
Although he bore in his body the marks of the Lord Jesus, yet he was
the slave of the worst sins.
My brothers, we all bear the sign of the Cross, given to us in our
Baptism, and if our ears have become deaf to the Voice of God, that
cross is a witness against us. Sometimes we hear of a man being
arrested who has on him a certain letter, which marks him as a deserter
from the army. Are there any among us who feel that God has set that
fatal mark on them: the sign that they, once soldiers and servants of
Jesus Christ, have deserted their Leader, gone back, and followed no
longer after Him? Then again, God speaks to us by the _Voice of His
Church_. There is no asylum in the world where you will find so many
deaf people as at a service in Church. Their ears are open to listen
to the praises of their friends, or the eager talk of the market, and
the place of business; but the warnings of God, the message of Christ's
pardoning love, the threat of punishment, or the absolving word, fall
unheeded upon deaf ears. How often from that altar has the loving
message been uttered--"Come unto Me, all ye that travail and are heavy
laden," "Take, eat; this is My Body, which was given for you," and the
deaf ears heard not, nor understood? How often has the wickedness of
sin been proclaimed in this place, and the deaf ears heard only of
_another's_ faults, without heeding the warning cry--"_Thou_ art the
man?" And these people go through life unconscious of their danger,
just as a deaf man would walk along a railway and never hear the sound
of the advancing train.
Notice, too, that those who are spiritually deaf have also an
impediment in their speech. This is shown in many different ways.
When I find persons who will not speak out boldly for the honour of
Jesus Christ, who will not confess Him before the world, I know they
have an impediment in their speech. When I find persons in Church
silent throughout the Service, making no responses, singing no Psalm,
or Chant, or Hymn, I know they have an impediment in their speech: they
will not put their tongue to its right use, which is to praise God with
the best member that we have. If I find a man saying what is false,
hesitating to give a plain, straightforward answer, I know that he has
an impediment in his speech, his stammering tongue cannot utter the
truth. If I hear a man wild with passion, using bad language, I know
that he has an impediment, he cannot shape good words with his tongue.
And so with those who tell impure stories, or retail cruel gossip about
their neighbour's character, they are all alike afflicted people, deaf
to the Voice of God, and with an impediment in their speech. And now
let us look at the means of cure. They are precisely the same as those
mentioned in to-day's Gospel. They brought the afflicted man to Jesus.
That is the first step. If we would find pardon and healing we must be
brought to Jesus. The Holy Spirit leads the sinner back in many
different ways. It was the reading of one text of Scripture which
turned Augustine from his evil life. It was the single word _Eternity_
printed in the tract which a man had torn scoffingly in two, and which
lay in a scrap of paper on his arm, that led him to repent. Sometimes
it is a word in a sermon, or a verse in a hymn; sometimes it is the
question of a little child, or the sight of a dead face in a coffin;
but whatever it is which brings us back to Jesus, that must be the
first step to finding pardon and healing.
And next, Jesus was _besought_ to heal the afflicted man. My brethren,
our plain duty, as Christians, is to intercede for our fellow men. We
are often far too selfish in our petitions. Whilst we humbly remember
our own sins, and pray for pardon, let us beseech the Lord also for
others. And then Jesus took the man aside from the multitude. The
Lord could have healed him with a word in the midst of that crowd; but
He took him aside. Why? Surely to teach us a lesson, that if we want
to be healed of our sins, we must go aside out of the crowd of our
everyday words, and thoughts, and companions. We must seek some quiet
time, and place, where we can get away from the world, and be alone
with God. So much of the religion of the day is thin and shallow,
because people do not think about it enough; they have never gone aside
out of the world. The multitude of worldly cares and pleasures, work,
money getting, politics, jostle them on all sides, so that they cannot
come near to Jesus and be healed. Have you never felt this when you
have knelt down to pray? You have not been able to tell your secrets
to God, any more than you would tell them to a friend, in the midst of
a multitude. You want to go aside out of the crowd, where you can
speak quietly. When you have knelt down, although it may have been in
your own room alone, yet there is a crowd with you--a multitude of
disturbing thoughts. To-day's work, and to-morrow's pleasure, the
money to be paid, or the money that is owing to you, the cares of
eating, and drinking, and clothing, the recollection of a trouble, real
or fancied, the remembrance of some sharp word that made us smart and
tingle, all these things make a crowd, and keep us back from Jesus. I
do not say that we can get away from the throng of thoughts entirely,
but I _do_ say that we should try every day of our lives to go aside
out of the crowd, and find a quiet time, when we can think, and talk to
God.
And next, Jesus put His fingers into the deaf man's ears. If we would
find pardon and peace, _Jesus must touch us_. It will not help us to
believe only in a Saviour who died, we must acknowledge One who is
alive for evermore. It will not avail us to think of a Jesus who has
gone away into Heaven, we must look to Christ ever abiding here in His
Church. When we draw near to Him in the sacred service of that Church,
Jesus puts His Hands upon us. When we have truly repented of our sins,
and the words of absolution are spoken, we have the pardoning Hand of
Jesus laid upon us. When we kneel at the Altar of the Blessed
Sacrament, Jesus touches our every part. Our sinful bodies are made
clean by His Body. He lays His Hands upon ear, and eye, and tongue,
and heart. He opens our eyes to see the wondrous things of His law; He
unseals our ears to listen to the Voices of God; He touches our lips
with a live coal from off the Altar, and our mouth shall show forth His
praise. He strengthens our tottering feet to walk in the narrow way,
and dismisses us with His Blessing, "depart in peace, thy faith hath
saved thee."
Never look for Jesus afar off, or speak of Him as though He were lost.
Jesus is here, standing in our midst to-day. He is ready now, as of
old, to cure all manner of diseases. My brother, what aileth thee? Is
it well with thee; is it well with the husband; is it well with the
child? Prove to-day the truth of those words, "He hath done all things
well. He maketh both the deaf to hear, and the dumb to speak."
SERMON XLVIII.
THE GOOD SAMARITAN
(Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity.)
S. LUKE x. 30.
"A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among
thieves."
The scene of the parable is a wild, lonely road between Jerusalem and
Jericho. It is a road with an evil name for murder and robbery, and is
called the red, or bloody way. The mishap of the traveller was common
enough in our Lord's day, and is common enough now. But I would take
the scene of this parable in a wider sense; I would ask you to look at
it as the wayside of life. The road through this world is a dangerous
way, leading through the wilderness, stained by many crimes, haunted by
many robbers. Travelling along this highway of life, I see crowds of
persons, of all sorts and conditions of men. And I see moreover that
all of them bear scars upon them, as though they had been wounded, and
many I see are lying by the wayside in sore distress. All have at some
time or other fallen among thieves. There is a famous picture by the
great French painter which illustrates this. It represents a number of
different people journeying through the valley of this world. The way
is rough and gloomy, and all bear signs of having known weariness and
sorrow. The king is there in his royal robes, and wearing his crown;
but his brow is furrowed with care, and he seems to ask, like our own
King Henry--
"Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade
To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep,
Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy
To kings, that fear their subject's treachery?"
The poet is there crowned with laurel, but his eyes are sad, as though
he felt how poor a thing is fame; how valueless the garland which
to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven. He looks with a
yearning glance, as though searching for something not yet found. Even
like the great poet Dante, who, when asked in exile by the monks, "My
brother, what are you seeking?" answered, "I am seeking _peace_." The
soldier is there, his sword hacked, and his armour marked by many a
blow. But he seems "weary with the march of life," and looks sadly
upon the glittering stars and crosses which adorn him, remembering how
soon they will only serve to decorate his coffin. There, too, is the
minister of state, who directed the fortunes of empires. "Whom he
would he slew, and whom he would he kept alive." But his head is bowed
with trouble, and he seems to look wistfully to the time when "the
wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." Among the
crowd there are women; the widow with veiled head, and tearful eyes;
the mother clasping her dead child; the poor slave, cowering beneath
the lash of the taskmaster, and stretching out her chained hands for
pity. There, too, are many sick folk. Blind men sit in darkness by
the wayside; cripples drag their maimed bodies wearily along; beggars
grovel in their sores and raggedness. And all these different people
seem to turn their faces longingly to one place, where a bright light
breaks over the dark valley, and where there stands One with
outstretched arms, and loving smile. It is Jesus, the Good Samaritan,
who is ready to help these travellers on the road of life; it is the
Good Physician, who has medicine to heal their sickness; and who says
to every suffering heart, king and beggar, desolate widow, weary
warrior, childless mother, "Come unto Me, all ye that are weary and
heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
My brothers, this life is a pilgrimage through the vale of tears, a
journey along the robber-haunted road. Everywhere we see the traveller
of the parable who has fallen among thieves. Some have fallen among
Satan and his followers, thieves and murderers of souls. I see young
men who have thus fallen. My brothers, where is the white robe of your
Baptism, the shining armour of your Confirmation? Is that troubled
face of yours the same over which a pure mother wept and prayed, and
which she sanctified with holy kisses? Can you recall a time when you
went through the world "wearing the white flower of a blameless life?"
And now, your white robe is stripped off from you, your armour is
broken and cast aside, there are ghastly wounds upon you. Your
conscience is wounded, your good name is wounded, your purity is all
stained and foul, you have trampled on the white snow of some innocent
life. You have wandered out of the right way, and strayed into bad
company, into the drunkard's haunt, or the gambler's den, or the house
of shame. You have fallen among thieves, and they have stripped you,
and wounded you, and left you half dead.
Young men, is not this too true of some of those who hear me now? What
will you do? Will you lie there in the dangerous path, and die, die in
your sins? No, look for help--but where? The world cannot aid you.
The world is selfish, the world is hard upon those who have fallen, the
world will pass by on the other side. Money will not help you, it
cannot purchase clothing for you, or procure medicine for your disease.
Your clothing must be bought without money and without price. Turn to
Jesus, the Good Samaritan, He alone has medicine to heal your sickness.
Turn to Him in weeping, in praying, and He will give you wine, which
maketh glad the heart of man, even the wine of pardon; and oil to make
you a cheerful countenance, even the oil of comfort to your wounded
spirit. He will clothe you once again, and make you in your right
mind. O wounded wayfarer on the road of life, cry out to Jesus, the
good Samaritan. Some have fallen among the thieves of bereavement and
loss. As they lie there in their sorrow, they tell us how their money
was lost in the bank, or their savings swallowed up in bad times of
trade. There are poor widows lying there, who say to us, "We have
buried our husband, the bread-winner, how can we feed and educate and
clothe the children? How can we struggle on through a hard world?" To
them I say--Listen for the footsteps of Jesus, the Good Samaritan. The
same love which comforted the widow of Nain will comfort you. The same
Hands which wiped away her tears will dry your eyes. Only believe, and
turn to the Good Samaritan. Some have been beaten in the battle of
life, and are nearly heart-broken. I have tried so hard to get
work--they say, but there seems no room in the world for me,
disappointment has been my meat and drink day and night. Ah! my
brothers, have you not been trusting to the Priest and the Levite,
rather than to the Good Samaritan? The world has passed you by, but
Jesus will not. He will bind up your broken heart, and show you that
there is room in God's world for all who will do their duty. But there
is another lesson for us to learn. If Jesus does so much for us, we
ought to help each other. "Go thou and do likewise." The common,
popular idea of religion, is utter selfishness. We are taught that the
great end and aim of religion is to get our soul saved, as cheaply as
possible sometimes. Now this teaching is utterly wrong. It leads us
to think only of ourselves, it makes us go to Church from a wrong
motive--that we may get good. True religion teaches us to be good
Samaritans, to do all to the glory of God, to love Him with all our
heart and strength, and our neighbour as ourself. "Pure religion and
undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless
and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the
world." The great lesson of the parable is this, that every man is our
neighbour when he needs help, and we can give it. The Jews, as we
know, had no dealings with the Samaritans, and our Lord's story showed
how that middle wall of partition should be broken down. The Good
Samaritan did not stay to question the fallen traveller about his
religious views, or his political principles--he saw him in trouble,
and he helped him. May we all go and do likewise. We Christians are
all too ready to build up a wall of separation between ourselves and
our brethren. One of these walls is that of religious difference. We
disagree about some point of doctrine or ritual, and allow the
disagreement to embitter our feelings, and to shut out our sympathy.
Politics form another wall of separation. We differ from a neighbour
in our political views, and we refuse to recognise any good in him
because he does not think as we do. There are some among the rich who
look down with contempt upon the poor, as though poverty were the
unpardonable sin. And there are endless prejudices of rank and class
which shutout man from man. Against all these things the parable of
the Good Samaritan is a protest and a warning.
It is the way of the world to leave a fallen man to his fate, but it is
not Christ's way. It is the way of the world to speak very hardly of
those who are in want and misery, for as nothing succeeds like success,
nothing fails like failure. But again, that is not Christ's way. He
never breaks the bruised reed, or quenches the smoking flax. My
brothers, let us learn to look on all men as our neighbours, let us
stretch out a helping hand to those who have fallen among thieves, let
us pour the wine and oil of sympathy, and kind words where we can, let
us be gentle in our judgment of another's fault, since "blessed are the
merciful."
SERMON XLIX.
WALKING WITH GOD.
(Fourteenth Sunday after Trinity.)
GALATIANS v. 16.
"Walk in the Spirit."