teaches us. I told you that there is such a thing as the language of
flowers, that is, that each flower has its special meaning. Well, what
does the rose say? Surely the rose says, "love one another!" Do you
know who it is who loves us best, and who has done most for us? Our
Lord Jesus Christ. Yes, and it is for that reason, I think, that He is
called in the Bible a Rose,--the Rose of Sharon. Whenever you see a
rose, think of Jesus, the Rose of Sharon, and remember what He says to
you, "Little children, love one another." I will tell you a story
about a rose. A little brother and sister lived in a crowded court in
a great city. It was a wretched, dirty, ugly, place, where scarcely
any sunshine ever came, and where the people were often rough and
wicked. Little Willie and his sister knew nothing about green fields
spotted with daisies, they had never seen a flower. One day a kind
friend took all the poor children living in the court for a drive into
the country. I cannot tell you how happy Willie and his sister were
when they saw the trees and hedges, which were all new and strange to
them. Presently they passed a garden in which were growing some
sweet-smelling red flowers. Willie had never seen anything half so
lovely, and he was anxious to know what the flowers were called, so
they told him that they were roses. Well, after a time, when the
Winter came, little Willie fell ill. Day after day his sister sat
beside him, holding his thin white hand in hers. Often they talked
about that wonderful day in the country, where they had seen the roses.
Often, too, they talked about Jesus, and the still more beautiful
country where He lived. The children were very ignorant, but they had
been to Sunday School, and learnt something about the dear Lord who
loves children. One cold, dark day, little Willie was much worse, and
he said to his sister--"Oh! I wish I could see a rose once more. I
wish you would go and get me one of those roses we saw that day!" So
the little sister, who loved him dearly, set out to walk to the place
where they had seen the flowers. After a long and weary journey, she
came to the field where they had played, and the garden where the roses
grew. But the field and the garden were white with snow, and there
were no roses there. The little girl was worn out with hunger and
fatigue, and she dropped on her knees in the snow, and prayed, and this
was her prayer--"Dear Jesus, send me one rose, only one, for little
Willie." Just then a carriage came along the road, and the lady who
rode in it had a beautiful red rose in her hand, which had grown in a
greenhouse. She dropped it from the window, I suppose, by accident,
but when the little girl saw it lying on the snow, she thought that
Jesus had sent it to her, and took it up lovingly to carry to her
brother. But she had no more strength to struggle through the cold
night, and when the morning came they found her dead upon the white
snow, with the red rose in her hand. That night little Willie, lying
alone in the cold, dark, garret, also died. And the writer of this
story thinks that when the brother and sister met in the Paradise of
God, the sister, who gave her life for love, carried a beautiful flower
in her hand, and said, "Willie, here's your rose." So thinks the
writer, and I think so too.
SERMON LXII.
DAILY BREAD.
(Harvest Thanksgiving.)
PSALM lxv. 9.
"Thou preparest them corn."
"Come, ye thankful people, come," and let us thank God for another
harvest. Once more the Father, the Feeder, has given bread to
strengthen man's heart, and we turn from the corn stored in the garner,
to God's own garner the Church, where He has stored up food for our
souls.
And first of all, my brothers, let us be honest with ourselves. Are we
quite sure that we _are_ thankful to God for the harvest? We have
decorated God's House with the first-fruits of the year, we have met
together now to celebrate our Harvest Festival; but is there real
_meaning_ in all this? Are we thankful to God? if not our Festival is
a mockery. Let me give you a few thoughts which may help you to be
thankful. The first thought is this: the harvest is _God's_ harvest,
not yours. "Thou preparest them corn," is spoken of God, not of man.
Corn is unlike any other kind of food, it is the direct gift of God to
man in fully-developed state. Other fruits of the earth are given to
man in a wild state, and he must improve them by care and cultivation,
till the wild vine is turned into the rich wine-producing plant of the
vineyard, and the sour crab into the delicious apple. It is not the
case with corn. No one, says a writer, whose thoughts I am following,
has ever discovered wild corn. Ages ago, when the Pharaohs reigned in
Egypt, and the Pyramids were a'building, men sowed just the same corn
that you sow to-day. Corns of wheat like our own have been found in
the hands of Egyptian mummies which have been dead for thousands of
years. The grain which Joseph stored in Pharaoh's granaries, and with
which he fed his brethren, was precisely similar to the produce of your
own fields. Geologists tell us that there is no trace of corn to be
found in the earth before the creation of man. When God made man He
created corn to supply him with food. The old Greeks and Romans had a
dim perception of this when they thought that corn was the gift of the
goddess Ceres. You know we call all varieties of corn _cereals_, after
that same goddess. In these days there is, with some, less religion
than ever the old heathen possessed. They would shut God out of the
world of Nature, and see in a harvest-field only man's cleverness and
energy. Let us rather humble ourselves before God, and see that it is
His Hand which sendeth the springs into the rivers which run among the
hills, where all the beasts of the field drink thereof, and the wild
asses quench their thirst; beside them shall the fowls of the air have
their habitation, and sing among the branches. Let us believe that it
is God who watereth the hills from above, so that the earth is filled
with the fruits of His works; that it is God who bringeth forth grass
for the cattle, and green herb for the service of men, that He may
bring food out of the earth, and wine that maketh glad the heart of
man, and oil to make him a cheerful countenance, and bread to
strengthen man's heart. Whilst the unbeliever, blinded by his
self-conceit, is worshipping his own little stock of knowledge, and
neglecting God, let us be singing our _Te Deum_--"We praise Thee, O
God, we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord."
Here is another thought which will help you to recognise corn as being
specially the gift of God to man. It grows all over the world.
Wherever man can live, corn of one kind or another flourishes. "From
the bleak inhospitable wastes of Lapland to the burning plains of
Central India, from the muddy swamps of China to the billowy prairies
of America, from the level of the sea-shore to the lofty valleys and
table-lands of the Andes and the Himalayas, it is successfully
cultivated. The emigrant clears the primaeval forest of Canada, or the
fern-brakes of New Zealand, and there the corn seed sown will spring up
as luxuriantly as on the old loved fields of home." [1] All this
should teach us to see in the harvest the result, not of our skill and
cleverness, but of the good God's lovingkindness. Ask yourselves now,
my brothers, whether you are truly thankful to God for this harvest: is
your presence here to-day a real act of thanksgiving, or only an idle
form?
Among the many curious relics of the past which were dug up in the
buried city of Pompeii were some loaves of bread, looking just as they
did when they came out of the oven. Think of those loaves baked
eighteen hundred years ago, and still preserved as witnesses against
that wicked city. God was good to those people in Pompeii, and
prepared their corn, and bread to strengthen their heart, just as He
does for us. And they went on thankless and careless in their sin,
till the fiery stream overtook them, and that same fire which destroyed
them preserved the bread, as a sign of God's goodness and man's
ingratitude.
There is yet another thought about the corn, which ought to make us
feel how dependent we are upon God for our _daily_ bread. Unlike the
grass which is permanent as a food for cattle, or certain trees which
bring forth fruit season by season, corn must be sown annually. Man
depends upon the result of each year's sowing for the staff of life.
And we are told that as a fact there is only as much corn in the world
in each year as the world can consume in that time. "It is not
probable that there was ever a year and a half's supply of the first
necessary of life at one time in the world." Thus, as every
harvest-time comes round, we are almost looking famine in the face, and
then God opens His Hand and filleth all things living with
plenteousness. Rightly indeed do we pray, "Give us day by day our
daily bread."
And now let us look at the spiritual meaning of all this. As corn is
the special gift of God to man, so is the gift of grace and pardon.
God gives us what we cannot obtain for ourselves, does for us what we
are powerless to do. As He feeds our bodies with the bread of corn, He
feeds our souls with the Bread of Heaven. His Holy Catholic Church all
over the world is a great granary stored with precious food. Just as
corn grows wherever man lives, so wherever two or three are gathered
together in Christ's Name there is He in the midst of them, feeding
their souls. The exile in a foreign land can sow his corn seed, and
gather the same food as in the fields of home. The same exile can find
beneath other skies the same holy teachings, the same blessed
Sacraments, the same prayers, as in the Church of his childhood. The
bread of earth and the Bread of Heaven are God's two universal gifts to
man. The penitent sinner can kneel at the Feet of Jesus, and find the
grace of pardon beneath the skies of England, and India, and New
Zealand, alike. The faithful Churchman can come to the Altar and
receive the Body and Blood of his Saviour, even the Heavenly Bread to
strengthen man's heart, all over the Christian world. As God gives us
everywhere light and food, without which we cannot live, so does He
give light and food for our soul. As says a Saint of old (S. Thomas à
Kempis), "I feel that two things are most especially necessary to me in
this life; prisoned in the dungeon of the body, I acknowledge that I
need two things, food and light. Therefore Thou hast given me, a sick
man, Thy Body for the refreshment of my soul and body, and hast made
Thy Word a lantern unto my feet. Without these two I cannot live well;
for the Word of God is the light of my soul, and Thy Sacrament is the
Bread of Life."
My brothers, whilst we thank God for giving us this harvest of corn,
let us still more thank Him for the harvest of spiritual blessing, for
the precious grace and mercy which make glad the hearts of hardened
sinners, for the anointing of the Holy Spirit which makes our faces
shine with joy and gladness, for the Bread which came down from Heaven,
and which strengthens our hearts to be Christ's faithful soldiers and
servants.
One last word. The return of seed time and harvest teaches us that we
are all sowers, and that the harvest is the end of the world. We
seldom reap here the full results of our acts whether they be good or
evil. "The evil that men do lives after them," yes, and the good too.
It may seem to some of us who are trying to do our duty, trying to live
as God's servants, that there is no harvest for us. We seem destined
to labour in the weary field of the world, and to see no fruit of our
labours. Ah! brothers, the harvest is not yet, but it will come, the
harvest of the good and of the evil, since--
"We are sowers, and full seldom reapers,
For life's harvest ripens when we die,
'Tis in death alone God gives His sleepers
All for which they sigh.
Cast thy bread upon the waters: after
Many mornings, when thy head is low,
Men shall gather it with songs and laughter,
Though thou mayest not know."
[1] Hugh Macmillan's _Bible Teachings in Nature_, to which work I am
indebted for the structure of this Sermon.
SERMON LXIII.
GOD'S JEWELS.
(Schools.)
MALACHI III. 17.
"They shall be Mine, saith the Lord of Hosts, in that day when I make
up My jewels."
There is a legend of old time which tells us how a certain Jewish Rabbi
returned to his home after a long absence. His first question
was--"Where are my boys?" for his wife had greeted him alone. Then,
instead of answering her husband's question, the wife asked his advice.
She told him that some years before someone had lent her something very
precious, and she would know whether after fourteen years the loan
became hers. The Rabbi gently reproved his wife, and assured her that
the treasure thus lent could not become her own. Then the wife told
him that on that very day He who had lent the treasure had returned and
claimed it. "Ought I to have kept it back, or repined at restoring the
loan?" she asked. The Rabbi was astonished that she could ask such a
question, and again enquired anxiously for his two boys. Then the wife
took him by the hand, and turning back the sheet upon the bed, showed
him the two boys lying dead. "The Lord who gave hath taken. They are
dead."
My brethren, we who are parents should learn to look upon our children
as a precious loan from the Lord. They are God's treasures, His
jewels, and He lends them to us for a little while. Now, to-day, I
have to speak to you about schools, and the duty of supporting a
_Christian_, as opposed to a mere _secular_ education. But, first, I
want to speak about another kind of education, the teaching of home. I
would speak most earnestly to you mothers, because as you are the
earliest, so are you the most powerful teachers of your children. It
is a tremendous responsibility which God has laid upon you. He has
lent you a precious jewel, an immortal soul, which will be saved or
lost mainly through your influence. Well says a writer of the day,
"Sometimes mothers think it hard to be shut up at home with the care of
little children. But she who takes care of little children takes care
of great eternities. She who takes care of a little child, takes care
of an empire that knows no bounds and no dimensions. The parent who
stays at home and takes care of children is doing a work boundless as
God's heart." O mothers! never grow weary in well-doing, never think
the children a trouble and a weariness, but a precious loan which God
will ask one day to have restored. May none of you ever have to say--
"I wonder so that mothers ever fret
At little children clinging to their gown,
Or that the foot-prints, when the days are wet,
Are ever black enough to make them frown.
If I could find a little muddy boot,
Or cap, or jacket, on my chamber floor;
If I could kiss a rosy, restless foot,
And hear it patter in my house once more;
If I could mend a broken cart to-day,
To-morrow make a kite to reach the sky,
There is no woman in God's world could say
She was more blissfully content than I.
But ah! the dainty pillow next my own
Is never rumpled by a shining head;
My singing birdling from its nest is flown;
The little boy I used to kiss is dead."
My sisters, God would have you who are mothers to be nursing mothers
for Heaven, your nursery, your home, the school of Christ. Let every
mother here take to heart the story of Monica and Augustine. You know
that the future Bishop and famous preacher was as a young man given up
to all kinds of vicious courses, and refused to embrace the faith of
his mother, a devoted Christian. His dissipation and impiety were a
constant source of sorrow to the gentle Monica, who never ceased to
pray for him. When Augustine was a student at Carthage, drinking
deeply of the beautiful poisoned chalice of heathen literature, the
mother's letters to her son were full of the sweet lessons of
Christianity. Still Augustine persevered in the old evil way, and when
he gained fame as a teacher he still disregarded the words of Monica
She prayed on, but almost in despair. One night she dreamed than an
angel appeared to her, and promised that where she was there her
beloved Augustine should be. She told the vision to her son, who made
light of it, saying, that if it meant anything, it was that she should
adopt his faith. "Nay," said his mother, "it was not said to me,
'Where he is you shall be,' but, 'Where _you_ are he shall be.'" Still
the years went on, and there was no change in Augustine. Monica
consulted a great Christian Bishop, who bade her persevere, since it
was impossible that the child of so many tears and prayers should
perish. After a while Augustine journeyed to Rome, his mother's
prayers going with him. There he heard S. Ambrose preach, and his
heart was touched. There was a hard struggle between the old life and
the new for a time, and Monica was with Augustine in his conflict. At
last she saw of the travail of her soul, and was satisfied. O mothers,
pray as Monica prayed for Augustine, if you would have your children
grow up as God's children set them a strong example, and pray without
ceasing.
There is, in a certain country Churchyard, a grave-stone with this
epitaph--"He loved little children." Few of us could wish for a
better. Sometimes a whole life is written in one sentence, it was so,
no doubt, in this case. There is not, to my mind, among all the
epitaphs in S. Paul's Cathedral, or Westminster Abbey, telling the
praises of soldiers, heroes, statesmen, anyone to compare with the
simple sentence--"He loved little children." Now, brethren, if we love
little children, we can best show our love by having them brought up as
Christian children; by having them taught to love the Church of their
Baptism, and to know and reverence the Bible. The question of the day
is education with God or without God, a creedless School where the
young may believe anything, or nothing, or a Church School where they
are brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, and grounded
in the faith of their fathers. Perhaps there was never a time when
England was in so critical a state as now, and its future depends on
our children. Outside enemies are clamouring at the doors of the
Church, crying, "down with it, down with it, even to the ground." The
Franchise will be practically in the hands of everyone; and what will
the future of the Church and the State be, when this new power is
placed in the hands of those who have been brought up without any
definite religious faith? The policy of the day is to shut God out of
our Schools, as we have tried to shut Him out of our legislature and
our commerce. We find our boys at the Public Schools, and our young
men at the Universities, frequently taught by men who openly profess
unbelief, and talk of the Incarnation and kindred doctrines as
"beautiful myths." We find the children of our parishes brought up in
creedless Schools, where all dogmatic teaching is excluded, and we may
well fear lest England should drift into the utter unbelief of France.
My brethren, you may take care of your children's intellects, you may
give them what is called a "good education," but I tell you no
education can be _good_ which is not based upon the Gospel of the Lord
Jesus Christ. You may educate a child to pass one of the endless
examinations of the day, but we must remember that there is a great and
final examination to be passed, when all earthly competitions are
ended. Remember your child's soul, and educate him for Heaven.
SERMON LXIV.
MUTUAL HELP.
(Female Friendly Society.)
S. MARK iii. 35.
"Whosoever shall do the Will of God, the same is My brother, and My
sister, and My mother."
There are just two points which I want to put before you to-day.
First, what you as Christian women ought to be. Secondly, how you can
help each other to be so. On the first point I would ask you to
remember the glory and dignity of womanhood. You get this dignity from
Jesus Christ, who was born of a woman, and who said, "Whosoever shall
do the Will of God, the same is My brother, and My sister, and My
mother." Before Christ came into the world the condition of women was
most miserable. They were degraded, despised, treated as slaves, and
beasts of burden, as they are in heathen lands to this day. Since
Christ came every good woman is loved, honoured, and respected. Jesus
Christ set us the example. It was on a woman's breast that the Son of
God found earthly refuge. It was to a woman who had been probably a
great sinner, and out of whom He had cast seven devils, that Jesus gave
the first news of His Resurrection. He told Mary Magdalene to announce
the Gospel of the risen Jesus to His disciples. This, my sisters, is
the true work of every Christian woman, to teach those around you, the
children, the household, the busy men, the Gospel of the higher life,
the Gospel of the Resurrection. And this is not to be done with the
preacher's voice from the pulpit, but with the still, small voice of
love and gentleness, and sweet temper, and purity; by that most
powerful of all sermons--a good example.
Next, I want you to remember the wonderful power which God has given
you, and which you can use either for good or evil. God has, in one
way, made men stronger than women. But every woman has influence, the
power of leading others right or wrong. Do you know that from the time
of Eve women have mainly made the history of the world? Men may have
done the deeds, but women have led the men. "The hope of France is in
our mothers," said a famous French Bishop, and every good man owes the
best part of himself to his earliest and best teacher and guide--his
mother. The origin of most sins also can be traced to the influence of
a bad woman. Samson, the giant, becomes the blinded, helpless slave,
by trusting to false Delilah. Ahab loses honour and life by making
Jezebel his counsellor. Mark Antony, the conqueror, sits helpless at
the feet of Cleopatra. Never forget the power of leading others which
you have as mothers, wives, or sisters, and take good heed that you
lead them in the right way.
Secondly, let me give you a few homely words of advice about the
special temptations and dangers which surround you, and the best means
of helping each other to resist them. Many of you passed from home
life into domestic service, where you have very frequently to stand
alone, without the help of parent or teacher. Every position in life
has its special trials and temptations. I have temptations which do
not come to you; you have trials from which I am free. I have heard
many life-stories like yours when I have been holding a Mission, and
therefore I know far more of your special temptations than you imagine.
One of these special dangers is _bad company_. You all have your
holidays, and your "days out," and you naturally look forward to them
very eagerly. But, my sisters, stay, and ask yourselves the
question--How do I spend my holidays? If the day be Sunday, do you
keep God's Commandment, and observe the Sabbath Day to keep it holy?
If not, how can you expect to be kept from evil? You promised in your
Baptism and your Confirmation to keep all God's Will and Commandments,
and one of these is, "Remember that thou keep holy the Sabbath Day."
Take care what company you keep. If you cannot say, "I am a companion
of all such as love the Lord," be sure your company is of the wrong
sort. I have known many a one who has lost name, fame, character, all
that a woman holds most dear, and who has brought an honest name to
disgrace, and broken a mother's heart, by mixing with bad company. The
proverb says that a person is known by his friends, by the company he
keeps. You cannot touch fire and escape burning, and you cannot keep
company with those who laugh at religion, who make a mock at sin, who
never pray, who talk immodestly, and are disobedient to the wishes of
parent or employer, without falling into sin yourselves.
If any of you who hear me are entangled with such company, make up your
mind now, and give it up. Be brave enough to do what is right. Ask
God to make you brave. And one word more, _help each other_ to do what
is right. I say to you who want to go in the right way, keep each
other company. None of us can stand alone, we need help. You have
probably heard the story of the blind man and the lame man who were
called to journey to a distant place. What was to be done? The blind
man could not see, the lame man could not walk; so they helped each
other: the blind man carried the lame man, who directed him in the
right way. Some of you have stronger wills and characters than others,
let the strong help the weak. But _how_ can you best help each other?
Soldiers in battle assist each other by closing their ranks, and
keeping together. There is the secret of strength, _keep together_.
Let all the members of your society march together. Try to set each a
good example, a _strong_ example, by prayer, by reading your Bible
daily, by attending the services of the Church as frequently as
possible, by coming to the Altar of the Blessed Sacrament, whenever it
is possible. Above all, pray, intercede, for each other.
THE END.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Life of Duty, v. 2, by H. J. Wilmot-Buxton