Wisdom hath builded her house, she hath hewn out her seven pillars:
she hath killed her beasts; she hath mingled her wine; she hath also
furnished her table. She hath sent forth her maidens; she crieth
upon the highest places of the city, Whoso is simple, let him turn in
hither: and to him that wanteth understanding, she saith to him,
Come, eat of my bread, and drink of the wine which I have mingled.
THIS allegory has been a favourite one with many deep and lofty thinkers.
They mixed it, now and then, with Greek fancies; and brought Phœbus,
Apollo, and the Muses into the Temple of Wisdom. But whatever they added
to the allegory, they always preserved the allegory itself. No words,
they felt, could so well express what Wisdom was, and how it was to be
obtained by man.
The stately Temple, built by mystic rules of art; the glorious Lady, at
once its Architect, its Priestess, and its Queen; the feast spread within
for all who felt in themselves divine aspirations after what is
beautiful, and good, and true; the maidens fair and pure, sent forth
throughout the city, among the millions intent only on selfish gain or
selfish pleasure, to call in all who were not content to be only a more
crafty kind of animal, that they might sit down at the feast among the
noble company of guests,—those who have inclined their heart to wisdom,
and sought for understanding as for hid treasures:—this is a picture
which sages and poets felt was true; true for all men, and for all lands.
And it will be, perhaps, looked on as true once more, as natural, all but
literally exact, when we who are now men are in our graves, and you who
are now boys will be grown men; in the days when the present soulless
mechanical notion of the world and of men shall have died out, and
philosophers shall see once more that Wisdom is no discovery of their
own, but the inspiration of the Almighty; and that this world is no dead
and dark machine, but alight with the Glory, and alive with the Spirit,
of God.
But what has this allegory, however true, to do with All Saints’ Day?
My dear boys, on all days Wisdom calls you to her feast, by many weighty
arguments, by many loving allurements, by many awful threats. But on
this day, of all the year, she calls you by the memory of the example of
those who sit already and for ever at her feast. By the memory and
example of the wise of every age and every land, she bids you enter in
and feast with them, on the wealth which she, and they, her faithful
servants, have prepared for you. They have laboured; and they call you,
in their mistress’s name, to enter into their labours. She taught them
wisdom, and she calls on you to learn wisdom of them in turn.
Remember, I say, this day, with humility and thankfulness of heart, the
wise who are gone home to their rest.
There are many kinds of noble personages amid the blessed company of All
Saints, whom I might bid you to remember this day. Some of you are the
sons of statesmen or lawyers. I might call on you to thank God for your
fathers, and for every man who has helped to make or execute wise laws.
Some of you are the sons of soldiers. I might call on you to thank God
for your fathers, and for all who have fought for duty and for their
country’s right. Some of you are the sons of clergymen. I might call on
you to thank God for your fathers, and for all who have preached the true
God and Jesus Christ His only-begotten Son, whether at home or abroad.
All of you have mothers, whether on earth or in heaven; I might call on
you to thank God for them, and for every good and true woman who, since
the making of the world, has raised the coarseness and tamed the
fierceness of men into gentleness and reverence, purity, and chivalry. I
might do this: but to-day I will ask you to remember specially—The Wise.
For you are here as scholars; you are here to learn wisdom; you are here
in what should be, and I believe surely is, one of the fore-courts of
that mystic Temple into which Wisdom calls us all. And therefore it is
fit that you should this day remember the wise; for they have laboured,
and you are entering into their labours. Every lesson which you learn in
school, all knowledge which raises you above the savage or the profligate
(who is but a savage dressed in civilized garments), has been made
possible to you by the wise. Every doctrine of theology, every maxim of
morals, every rule of grammar, every process of mathematics, every law of
physical science, every fact of history or of geography, which you are
taught here, is a voice from beyond the tomb. Either the knowledge
itself, or other knowledge which led to it, is an heirloom to you from
men whose bodies are now mouldering in the dust, but whose spirits live
for ever before God, and whose works follow them, going on, generation
after generation, upon the path which they trod while they were upon
earth, the path of usefulness, as lights to the steps of youth and
ignorance. They are the salt of the earth, which keeps the world of man
from decaying back into barbarism. They are the children of light whom
God has set for lights that cannot be hid. They are the aristocracy of
God, into which not many noble, not many rich, not many mighty are
called. Most of them were poor; many all but unknown in their own time;
many died, and saw no fruit of their labours; some were persecuted, some
were slain, even as Christ the Lord was slain, as heretics, innovators,
and corruptors of youth. Of some, the very names are forgotten. But
though their names be dead, their works live, and grow, and spread, over
ever fresh generations of youth, showing them fresh steps toward that
Temple of Wisdom, which is the knowledge of things as they are; the
knowledge of those eternal laws by which God governs the heavens and the
earth, things temporal and eternal, physical and spiritual, seen and
unseen, from the rise and fall of mighty nations, to the growth and death
of the moss on yonder moors.
They made their mistakes; they had their sins; for they were men of like
passions with ourselves. But this they did—They cried after Wisdom, and
lifted up their voice for understanding; they sought for her as silver,
and searched for her as hid treasure: and not in vain.
For them, as to every earnest seeker after wisdom, that Heavenly Lady
showed herself and her exceeding beauty; and gave gifts to each according
to his earnestness, his purity and his power of sight.
To some she taught moral wisdom—righteousness, and justice, and equity,
yea, every good path.
To others she showed that political science, which—as Solomon tells
you—is but another side of her beauty, and cannot be parted, however men
may try, from moral wisdom—that Wisdom in whose right hand is length of
days, and in her left hand riches and honour; whose ways are ways of
pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.
To others again she showed that physical science which—so Solomon tells
us again—cannot be parted safely from the two others. For by the same
wisdom, he says, which gives alike righteousness and equity, riches and
long life—by that same wisdom, and no other, did the Lord found the
heavens and establish the earth; by that same knowledge of his are the
depths broken up, and the clouds drop down the dew.
And to some she showed herself, as she did to good Boethius in his
dungeon, in the deepest vale of misery, and the hour of death; when all
seemed to have deserted them, save Wisdom, and the God from whom she
comes; and bade them be of good cheer still, and keep innocency, and take
heed to the thing that is right, for that shall bring a man peace at the
last.
And they beheld her, and loved her, and obeyed her, each according to his
powers: and now they have their reward.
And what is their reward?
How can I tell, dear boys? This, at least can I say, for Scripture has
said it already. That God is merciful in this; that he rewardeth every
man according to his work. This, at least, I can say, for God incarnate
himself has said it already—that to the good and faithful servant he will
say,—‘Well done. Thou hast been faithful over a few things: I will make
thee ruler over many things. Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.’
‘The joy of thy Lord.’ Think of these words a while. Perhaps they may
teach us something of the meaning of All Saints’ Day.
For, if Jesus Christ be—as he is—the same yesterday, to-day, and for
ever, then his joy now must be the same as his joy was when he was here
on earth,—to do good, and to behold the fruit of his own goodness; to
see—as Isaiah prophesied of him—to see of the travail of his soul, and be
satisfied.
And so it may be; so it surely is—with them; if blessed spirits (as I
believe) have knowledge of what goes on on earth. They enter into the
joy of their Lord. Therefore they enter into the joy of doing good.
They see of the travail of their soul, and are satisfied that they have
not lived in vain. They see that their work is going on still on earth;
that they, being dead, yet speak, and call ever fresh generations into
the Temple of Wisdom.
My dear boys, take this one thought away with you from this chapel
to-day. Believe that the wise and good of every age and clime are
looking down on you, to see what use you will make of the knowledge which
they have won for you. Whether they laboured, like Kepler in his garret,
or like Galileo in his dungeon, hid in God’s tabernacle from the strife
of tongues; or, like Socrates and Plato, in the whirl and noise—far more
wearying and saddening than any loneliness—of the foolish crowd, they all
have laboured for you. Let them rejoice, when they see you enter into
their labours with heart and soul. Let them rejoice, when they see in
each one of you one of the fairest sights on earth, before men and before
God; a docile and innocent boy striving to become a wise and virtuous
man.
And whenever you are tempted to idleness and frivolity; whenever you are
tempted to profligacy and low-mindedness; whenever you are tempted—as you
will be too often in these mean days—to join the scorners and the fools
whom Solomon denounced; tempted to sneering unbelief in what is great and
good, what is laborious and self-sacrificing, and to the fancy that you
were sent into this world merely to get through it agreeably;—then
fortify and ennoble your hearts by Solomon’s vision. Remember who you
are, and where you are—that you stand before the Temple of Wisdom, of the
science of things as God has made them; wherein alone is health and
wealth for body and for soul; that from within the Heavenly Lady calls to
you, sending forth her handmaidens in every art and science which has
ever ministered to the good of man; and that within there await you all
the wise and good who have ever taught on earth, that you may enter in
and partake of the feast which their mistress taught them to prepare.
Remember, I say, who you are—even the sons of God; and remember where you
are—for ever upon sacred ground; and listen with joy and hope to the
voice of the Heavenly Wisdom, as she calls—‘Whoso is simple, let him come
in hither; and him that wanteth understanding, let him come and eat of my
bread, and drink of the wine that I have mingled.’
Listen with joy and hope: and yet with fear and trembling, as of Moses
when he hid his face, for he was afraid to look upon God. For the voice
of Wisdom is none other than the voice of The Spirit of God, in whom you
live, and move, and have your being.
SERMON III.
PRAYER AND SCIENCE.
(_Preached at St. Olave’s Church_, _Hart Street_, _before the Honourable
Corporation of the Trinity House_, 1866.)