‘Oh, would some power the gift but give us,
To see ourselves as others see us!’
and those painful thoughts make us do that. For if we see some faults in
ourselves, be sure our neighbours see them likewise, and perhaps many
more beside.
But more: these sad thoughts make us see ourselves as God sees us. For
if we see faults in ourselves, we may be sure that the pure and holy God,
in whose sight the very heavens are not clean, and who charges his angels
with folly, sees our faults with infinitely greater clearness, and in
infinitely greater number. So let us face those sad night thoughts,
however painful, however humiliating they may be; for by them God is
calling us to repentance, and forcing us to keep Lent in spirit and in
truth, whether we keep it outwardly or not.
‘What,’ some may say, ‘you would have us, then, afraid of the terror by
night?’ My dear friends, that is exactly what I would not have. I would
teach you from Holy Scripture how to profit by the terror, how to thank
God for the terror, instead of being afraid of it, as you otherwise
certainly will be. For these ugly dreams, these sad thoughts do come,
whether you choose or not. Whether you choose or not, you all have, or
will have seasons of depression, of anxiety, of melancholy. Shall they
teach you, or merely terrify you? Shall they only bring remorse, or
shall they bring repentance?
Remorse. In that is nothing but pain. A man may see all the wrong and
folly he has done; he may fret over it, torment himself with it, curse
himself for it, and yet be the worse, and not the better, for what he
sees. If he be a strong-minded man, he may escape from remorse in the
bustle of business or pleasure. If he be a weak-minded man, he may
escape from it in drunkenness, as hundreds do; or he may fall into
melancholy, superstition, despair, suicide.
But if his sadness breeds, not remorse, but repentance—that is, in one
word, if instead of keeping his sins to himself, he takes his sins to
God—then all will be well. Then he will not be afraid of the terror, but
thankful for it, when he knows that it is what St. Paul calls, the terror
of the Lord.
This is why the old Psalmists were not afraid of the terror by night;
because they knew that their anxiety had come from God, and therefore
went to God for forgiveness, for help, for comfort. Therefore it is that
one says, ‘I am weary of groaning. Every night wash I my bed, and water
my couch with my tears,’ and yet says the next moment, ‘Away from me, all
ye that work vanity. The Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping. The
Lord will receive my prayer.’
Therefore it is that another says, ‘While I held my sins my bones waxed
old through my daily complaining;’ and the next moment—‘I said I will
confess my sins unto the Lord, and so thou forgavest the wickedness of my
sin.’
Therefore it is that again another says, ‘Thou holdest mine eyes waking.
I am so feeble that I cannot speak. I call to remembrance my sin, and in
the night season I commune with my heart, and search out my spirit. Will
the Lord absent himself for ever, and will he be no more entreated? Is
his mercy clean gone for ever, and his promise come utterly to an end for
evermore? And I said, It is mine own infirmity; but I will remember the
years of the right hand of the most Highest. I will remember the works
of the Lord, and call to mind the wonders of old.’
And another, ‘Why art thou so heavy, O my soul, and why art thou so
disquieted within me? O put thy trust in God, for I shall yet give him
thanks, who is the help of my countenance, and my God.’
And therefore it is, that our Lord Jesus Christ, in order that he might
taste sorrow for every man, and be made in all things like to his
brethren, endured, once and for all, in the garden of Gethsemane, the
terror which cometh by night, as none ever endured it before or since;
the agony of dread, the agony of helplessness, in which he prayed yet
more earnestly, and his sweat was as great drops of blood falling down to
the ground. And there appeared an angel from heaven strengthening him;
because he stood not on his own strength, but cast himself on his Father
and our Father, on his God and our God. So says St. Paul, who tells us
how our Lord, in the days of his flesh, when he had offered up prayers
and supplications, with strong crying and tears, unto him that was able
to save him from death, and was heard in that he feared—though he were a
son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered; and being
made perfect, he became the Author of everlasting salvation unto all them
that obey him.
Oh, may we all, in the hour of shame and sadness, in the hour of darkness
and confusion, and, above all, in the hour of death and the day of
judgment, take refuge with him in whom alone is help, and comfort, and
salvation for this life and the life to come—even Jesus Christ, who died
for us on the cross.
SERMON XVII.
THE SON OF THUNDER.