them with stained glass windows, and rich carvings. Such Churches are
thank-offerings, signs of our gratitude to Him who on earth was
homeless, who was born in a stable, who had not where to lay His head.
There are people who murmur at the expense of building and decorating
such Churches. They say, "To what purpose was this waste?" They are
very nearly related to Judas Iscariot of old, who asked the same
question, and, like him, they love themselves, and the money bag,
better than their Master. These people tell us that God does not care
for handsome Churches and stately services. So they would give the
Almighty a white-washed building, whilst they dwell in a fair and
costly mansion. They would have fine damask and soft covering for
their table, whilst they have dirty linen and a moth eaten cloth for
the Altar of their God. They will drink out of cut-glass and silver at
their feasts, and they leave the feast of Christ's dying love, the
Blessed Sacrament of praise and thanksgiving, to be celebrated in
vessels of base metal. Their houses are kept in excellent repair, and
cleansed by careful hands, but they suffer the House of God to fall to
decay, and allow His Presence Chamber to be defiled with dirt. And all
this arises from a want of thankfulness to God. If we are thankful we
do not grudge what we give, we feel that we can never do enough for Him
who has redeemed us. But these people say, "God does not care for a
beautiful Church, He loves simplicity." Where has God told us this?
David believed just the opposite. He said that he was ashamed that he
should dwell in a house of cedars, whilst the Ark of God dwelt among
curtains. You know how he was prevented from building the Temple, and
how Solomon did the work. Now, did Solomon act upon the mean principle
of building a poor, cheap house for God, whilst he erected a gorgeous
palace for himself? No! the Temple was one of the most glorious
buildings ever seen, and those that were erected in later times were
splendid also. We find our Blessed Lord attending the Temple services,
and those services were beautiful and elaborate. There was nothing in
the Temple or its worship to suggest that God prefers the ugly,
white-washed building, and the slovenly, irreverent, service which some
would offer Him.
If you love someone very dearly you do not visit him in your oldest and
dirtiest garments, you do not send him the cheapest present you can
buy, nor put up a roughly erected tombstone to his memory. You give
him the very best you have. If you love God you will do the same to
Him.
Again, we show our thankfulness to God by giving Him a hearty worship
in His Church. I wonder how many people know exactly why they come to
Church at all. Some say they come to get good. That is mere
selfishness. Some say they come because it is respectable. Yes, but
worthless, unless it means something more. Others would tell us, if
they were quite honest, that they come to Church because they want to
stand well in the good opinion of the Clergyman, or with the Squire.
This is sheer hypocrisy. There is only one true reason for coming to
Church,--the fact that we love God, and are grateful to Him for all His
mercies, and want to show it. We should come to Church to _worship_
God with the best member that we have; we should come with the
feeling--"I was glad when they said unto me we will go into the House
of the Lord;" "I love the place, O Lord, wherein Thine honour dwells."
All slovenliness in the performance of the service, all irreverence, or
signs of inattention, and indifference, are tokens of a want of
thankfulness. We should get this thought fixed in our minds when we
enter Church,--I have come here to-day mainly to thank God for His
great goodness to me, and to all men. I have come also to ask for
certain things, the forgiveness of my sins if I am truly penitent, the
help and strength of the Holy Spirit to renew my life; I have come to
ask for those things, which are requisite and necessary as well for the
body as the soul, and I seek instruction in the lessons, the Gospel and
Epistle, and the sermon. But the chief object of my presence here is
the worship, the glory, the honour of God. And so I will give Him the
best I have. If you once grasped that fact, my brothers, we should
have no silent lips, no sleepy eyes, no lounging bodies, no irreverent
conduct in God's Holy Church. Remember God is present in His Church,
therefore we must behave with the greatest humility and reverence. In
some Churches you will see the people obstinately sitting throughout
the service, but if one of the Royal Family enters, they all rise up.
Now, if we remember that the King of kings, and Lord of lords, the only
Ruler of princes, is present, we shall stand up to do Him honour. It
is defrauding God of the honour due to Him when we refuse to show Him
marks of reverence. Do you know that in the House of Lords it is
always the rule for members to bow to the throne, although it is empty,
as being the seat of the Majesty of England. We bow to the Altar as
being the throne of the Most High God, the place where He visits His
people in the Blessed Sacrament. There we should honour and reverence
God, in whose presence we are, with the best members that we have. Our
heads should bow in humility before the God of Heaven and earth. Our
knees should bend in adoration before Him who is worshipped by the
Heavenly Host. Our eyes should be fixed upon our Prayer Books that
they may not wander. Our thoughts should be centred on the fact that
God is there with us, that we are in the presence-chamber of the great
King. Our voices should be used to praise God in chant, and psalm, and
hymn, and to offer prayer or thanksgiving. If we are silent we are
defrauding God. God's Priest does not say, "let _me_ pray for you," he
says, "let _us_ pray." We cannot worship God by proxy, we cannot give
God what He asks by means of a choir, whilst the congregation is
silent. Let us, each one of us, for the future, remember why we have
come to Church, and that it is our individual business to worship God
with reverence and holy fear. And in all you sing or say here, be in
earnest, _mean_ what you say. It is an insult to God to say words
which you do not believe, or understand. Once in a certain Church,
during Lent, an Easter hymn had been put down by mistake, and was sung
very heartily by the choir. The choirmaster after service spoke to the
singers, regretting that such a mistake should have occurred. And he
was answered, "Oh, it does not matter, we only think of the tune, and
do not trouble about the _words_." I am afraid that too many hymns are
sung in the same careless fashion, but if so, they are not _praise_.
"Sing ye praises with _understanding_."
One word more; we are bidden to render unto Caesar what belongs to him,
and to God what is His. This world has certain claims upon us. Part
of our time and our money must be devoted to our business and our
position in the world. But not _all_ of our time and money must be so
given. God claims His share, and our gratitude for His mercies ought
to make us gladly render unto God the things that are God's. He claims
a certain part of our time for His public worship in Church. If we
stay away from His House, or if, when there, we are careless, and
indifferent, we are robbing God. God claims a certain part of our
money, to be dedicated to the relief of the poor, or the maintenance of
His Church. If we spend all our money on the world we are defrauding
God of His right. May He grant us all more thankful hearts, for Jesus
Christ's sake.
SERMON LX.
GATHERING THE FRAGMENTS.
(Twenty-fifth Sunday after Trinity.)
S. JOHN vi. 12.
"Gather up the fragments that remain."
The fragments that remain! What are they? Something more than the
remnants of that miracle of feeding. We have come to the last Sunday
of the Church's year, only a few more fragments, a few more days,
remain, and then Advent will have come, and we shall begin a new year.
Again we shall hear the warning cry--"Prepare to meet thy God."
Brothers, are we ready to meet Him? We are one year nearer the day
when we must render in our account; one year nearer the time when the
Master will come to reckon with His servants; one year nearer the
return of the Bridegroom. What of our lamps, are they burning? What
of our talents, have they yielded interest? Another year
gone--eternity nearer by twelve months; surely this is a solemn time
for us all. Let us gather up the fragments of time that remain before
Advent. Do not put off making resolutions, or giving up bad habits,
till next Sunday. We know not how few fragments of our life remain.
As says a Bishop of our Church, "they who dare lose a day are
prodigals, but those who dare misspend it are desperate. Time is the
seed of eternity, the less that remains the more valuable it becomes.
To squander time is to squander all." The events of one brief day have
often influenced a whole life, aye, a whole eternity. The flight of a
bird determined the career of Mohammed; a spider's spinning that of
Bruce; and a tear in his mother's eye that of Washington. Voltaire,
when only five years old, committed to memory an infidel poem, and grew
to live and die an unbeliever; whilst Doddridge, as a child, studied
the Bible from the pictured tiles at the fireside explained by his
mother. Use the moments, the fragments, that remain, and so begin this
Advent season rightly, your lamp burning, the works of darkness cast
away, the armour of light girded on. But not only must we look
forward, the end of the Church's year is a fitting time for looking
back. Some of us can do so joyfully, thankfully, peacefully. Week by
week the teachings of Holy Church have shown them the life of duty, and
they feel that they have tried to live that life by the help of God's
Holy Spirit. The first half of the year's teaching showed us God's
love for us, the second half taught us how we can show our love to God.
Last Advent told us of the battle of life, the good fight of the faith,
and the love of God strengthening us in the conflict, and promising the
crown of victory. Christmas brought us once more the dear, glad,
tidings that Jesus is our brother, bone of our bone, and flesh of our
flesh. Epiphany showed us our Saviour manifested in our work, in the
changed character of a believer who out of weakness is made strong, in
the cleansed sinner whose leprosy is healed, in the storm of life made
calm. The star of Epiphany led us to Jesus, to hope, to rejoicing, and
gladly we offered our gifts, to the King our gold, to the Great High
Priest our incense, to the Crucified our myrrh. Lent showed us the
sterner side of the life of duty, and brought its lessons of
self-denial and self-restraint. Those of us who went out into the
wilderness of this world with Jesus, "glad with Him to suffer pain,"
resisting the tempter, found their reward at the glad Easter-tide. The
sorrow which had endured for the night of Lent gave place to the joy
which came with Easter morning. And so in every Sunday of the year we
trace the golden thread of God's loving mercy lying along the narrow
way, the path of duty. If we have tried to keep in that path, then we
can look back joyfully over the year that is gone, and for the future
we can, like S. Paul, "thank God, and take courage."
They tell us that the fishermen of Brittany, when going forth on a
voyage, offer this prayer--"Save us, O God, thine ocean is so large,
and our little boat so small." That may well be our prayer as we begin
another year. "Gather up the fragments." For some of us that will be
a sorry task; we are like children crying in the midst of the broken
pieces of some costly vase, shattered by our carelessness. The
fragments that _remain_! How many remain of the lessons and warnings
of the past year? How much of the good seed remains undestroyed by the
choking thorn? Some of us made good resolutions last Advent, we
started well with the beginning of the Church's year, we girded on our
armour, we determined to make a fight for the true faith, and we took a
firm stand on the promises of the Gospel. And now nothing remains of
those good resolutions except the broken fragments to witness against
us and upbraid us. As for the good fight, we have fled from the battle
beaten, our shield has been left disgracefully behind, we have turned
ourselves back in the day of battle. My brother, what is that dark
stain upon the white robe of your purity? It was not there a year ago.
Last Advent you could look father and mother, aye, the whole world, in
the face. And now you have a guilty secret spoiling your life. You
may cry with Macbeth--
"Had I but died an hour before this chance
I had liv'd a blessed time; for, from this instant,
The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees
Is left."
You cannot wash away that stain, even though you could "weep salt
oceans from those eyes." To look back mournfully will not help to undo
the past. To lament over the fragments of a misspent year, or the
memory of broken resolutions, vows unfulfilled, and chances lost, will
not bring back "the tender grace of a day that is dead." The thought
would be maddening if we did not believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. The
knowledge that we cannot recall one lost day, nor alter one past page
in our life's story, would bring a remorse cruel as the fabled vulture
which ever fed upon the vitals of the chained Prometheus. But thanks
be to God, Jesus says, "He that sitteth upon the throne saith, Behold,
I make all things new." Dear brothers and sisters, some of us need to
turn over a new leaf, to make a fresh start, how shall we do it? Let
us take our secret sin, our secret sorrow, to Jesus now. Let not the
sun go down and find us impenitent, unpardoned. Let us no longer go
through life like galley slaves, chained and labouring at the oar.
Jesus waits to strike off our chains, He came to preach liberty to the
captives. Think of that, you who are yet prisoners, slaves of some
sin. Jesus will set you free. As long as you hide your fault you are
a slave, you are torn and bitten by remorse, the worm that dieth not,
the fire that is not quenched. Tell the story of your sin to Jesus
_now_. Never mind how sad, how shameful it is. He is the _same_
Jesus, remember. The same who cleansed the Magdalene, who pardoned the
adulteress. Can you, will you, say to-day--
"We come to Thee, sweet Saviour,
With our broken faith again;
We know Thou wilt forgive us,
Nor upbraid us, nor complain.
We come to Thee, sweet Saviour,
Fear brings us in our need;
For Thy hand never breaketh
Not the frailest bruised reed."
"Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost." Let
Advent find us once more fighting the battle from which some had
retreated. Let the marks and scars upon our armour teach us our
danger, and help us to fight more watchfully, more humbly. Let the
mistakes, the weaknesses, the negligences, the ignorances of the past,
be warnings to us for the future.
"Saint Augustine, well hast thou said
That of our vices we can frame
A ladder, if we will but tread
Beneath our feet each deed of shame.
Deem not the irrevocable past
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If, rising on its wrecks, at last
To something nobler we attain."
Do you remember the Eastern story of the magician, who gave a ring of
vast beauty to a certain prince? Not only was the ring set with
priceless gems, but it had this wonderful quality. If the king
indulged in any evil thought or wish, or devised any sinful act, the
ring contracted on his finger, and warned him by its painful pressure.
My brothers, does the ring of conscience press no finger here to-day?
Is there no one here now who says in his heart: "Would to God that I
were as in years past?" If so, cling to the cleansing Hand of Jesus
_now_. A well-known Scottish physician tells us that, during a
terrible outbreak of cholera, he was summoned to a small fishing
village where the plague had broken out. As they approached the place
by boat, they saw a crowd of anxious watchers waiting for the doctor's
arrival. Suddenly an old man, of great height and strength, dashed
into the water, reached the boat ere it could reach the land, and
seizing the doctor in his mighty arms, carried him helpless through the
crowd to the bedside of his cholera-stricken grandson.
Brethren, if the plague spot of sin is upon you, seize upon the Hand of
the Good Physician, clasp Him in your arms, cry to Him now: "wash me
throughly [Transcriber's note: thoroughly?] from my wickedness, and
cleanse me from my sin!"
SERMON LXI.
WHAT THE FLOWERS SAY.
(Children's Flower Service.)
PSALM ciii. 15.
"As a flower of the field, so he flourisheth."
Children, have you ever heard of the language of flowers? Now, of
course, we know that flowers cannot speak as we can. I wish they
could. I think they would say such sweet things. But in one way
flowers do talk to us. When you give them some water, or when God
sends a shower of rain upon them, they give forth a sweet smell; I
think that the flowers are speaking then, I think that they are saying,
"thank you." Let us listen to the preaching of the flowers to-day.
What do they say to us? Well, some say one thing, some another; but
there is one thing which all of them say--"trust God." God takes care
of the flowers, and sends them dew, and rain, and sunshine, and fresh
air, and they tell us that the same God who cares for the flowers cares
also for us. And next, I think, all the flowers say to us, "thank
God." See how the daisies in the meadow seem to look up thankfully to
God. Someone says that God smiles on the earth, and that the earth
smiles back again with its flowers. Is not that a pretty thought,
children, that the flowers are the smiles of the grateful earth? Next,
the flowers say to us, "be contented." They are quite satisfied to
grow, and smell sweet, and look pretty, in the place where God puts
them. Now, just as God plants the flowers in a certain place, some up
high on the hills, others down low in the valley; some in the Queen's
greenhouse, others in the cottager's garden, so He puts you children in
your right place. Be quite sure, my children, that the best place for
us is where God puts us. Have you ever noticed the sweet-scented wall
flowers growing on an old stone wall? They have scarcely any earth for
their roots, only a little bit between the stones, yet they make the
old wall beautiful, and no flower smells sweeter. They teach us to be
contented. They seem to say, we have no grand place to grow in, no
carefully-prepared bed, only a bit of old wall for our home, but we are
quite satisfied, and we mean to make home as bright and sweet as we
can. Let us learn the lesson of the wall flower. Let us try to make
home bright and happy, and sweet, no matter how poor it is. Another
thing which all the flowers tell us is this, "remember that you must
die." When the Autumn and Winter come we say the flowers are dead
because we cannot see them. But the flowers are not really dead. They
are sleeping in the earth till the Spring comes again. God has put
them to bed in the warm ground, and when the proper time comes they
will waken up. Just what God does to the flowers He does to us. One
day He will send us to sleep, and take our soul to a safe place in
Paradise, whilst our body is put to bed in the earth beneath the soft
and pleasant grass. People will say that we are dead, just as they say
the flowers are dead. One day the resurrection morning will come, it
will be our spring-time, and God, who raised Jesus Christ from the
grave, will raise us up again.
So you see, children, the flowers tell us not only that we must die,
but that we must rise again. What else do the flowers say to us? I
think they say, "keep in the sunshine, be happy." You always find that
flowers are on the sunny side of things. So ought we to be. A plant
cannot grow, and blossom, in a dark cellar. It must have sunshine. So
if you want to be God's children, that is, good children, you must have
sunshine in your hearts, sunshine in your faces. Look at the face of
an innocent child, one who is gentle, obedient, loving, pure. You will
see the face full of sunshine. But look at the face of a child who has
done something wrong; who has told a lie, or done some cruel, mean, or
dishonest act. There is no sunshine on _that_ face. There is nothing
but a dark heavy cloud. The ill-tempered child has no sunshine on his
face. He lives down in a dark cellar. The discontented child has no
sunshine on his face. He lives down in a black dungeon with Giant
Despair. My children, ask God to keep you innocent; or if you have
done wrong, ask God to forgive you for Jesus Christ's sake, then you
will have sunshine, you will be happy.
There is another thing which the flowers say to us--"Be sweet." There
is nothing so delicious as to go into a flower garden after a warm
shower, and to smell the sweet scents. Well, God has sent you into the
garden of this world to be sweet like the flowers. How can you be
sweet? You can be sweet-tempered, sweet-mannered, sweet-spoken.
Sometimes you hear people say that someone has a sweet face. Now that
need not mean a pretty face; a person may be pretty, and yet not sweet.
Those who are sweet-tempered show it in their faces. You know how a
bunch of flowers in a room makes it sweet and wholesome. Now every
good child in a home, or a school, is like a nosegay of blossoms,
making the place sweet and wholesome; and every bad, vicious, unruly,
child is like the smell which comes from poisoned water. When I used
to visit the sailors in their ships to talk to them about God, I used
to say to them, "Now I want one of you men to be a little pinch of salt
in this ship, I want you to keep things sweet. Who will be the little
pinch of salt?" You understand what I mean, children? I wanted a good
man, who prayed, and read his Bible, to help the others, to try and
stop bad talking, to keep things sweet, as salt does. Well, I want
each of you children to be God's sweet flower, and to try to make your
home sweet by your gentleness, your good temper, your love. Some
children are regular stinging nettles in a home, or a school. They
always make people uncomfortable. They sting with their tongues, and
they sting with their looks and their tempers. Make up your minds,
dear little ones, to be, by God's help, sweet flowers, not stinging
nettles.