diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:18:05 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:18:05 -0700 |
| commit | 1c485858d69c511b68c57297e04455f804eecff9 (patch) | |
| tree | b4ed8170adff88d5347d41cb1a569f33088ff92e | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 1959-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 94166 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 1959-h/1959-h.htm | 4142 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 1959.txt | 3898 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 1959.zip | bin | 0 -> 90974 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/thrns10.txt | 4310 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/thrns10.zip | bin | 0 -> 89558 bytes |
9 files changed, 12366 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1959-h.zip b/1959-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..09cf208 --- /dev/null +++ b/1959-h.zip diff --git a/1959-h/1959-h.htm b/1959-h/1959-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eef4626 --- /dev/null +++ b/1959-h/1959-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4142 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Crown of Thorns, by E. H. Chapin + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Crown of Thorns, by E. H. Chapin + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Crown of Thorns + A Token for the Sorrowing + +Author: E. H. Chapin + +Release Date: November 17, 2008 [EBook #1959] +Last Updated: January 26, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CROWN OF THORNS *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE CROWN OF THORNS + </h1> + <h2> + A TOKEN FOR THE SORROWING + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by E. H. Chapin + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PREFACE. + </h2> + <p> + One of the discourses in this volume—"The Mission of Little + Children"—was written just after the death of a dear son, and was + published in pamphlet form. The edition having become exhausted sooner + than the demand, it was deemed advisable to reprint it; and accordingly it + is now presented to the reader, accompanied by others of a similar cast, + most of them growing out of the same experience. This fact will account + for any repetition of sentiment which may appear in these discourses, + especially as they were written without any reference to one another. + </p> + <p> + To the sorrowing, then, this little volume is tendered, with the author's + sympathy and affection. Upon its pages he has poured out some of the + sentiments of his own heartfelt experience, knowing that they will find a + response in theirs, and hoping that the book may do a work of consolation + and of healing. If it impresses upon any the general sentiment which it + contains,—the sentiment of religious resignation and triumph in + affliction; if it shall cause any tearful vision to take the Christian + view of sorrow; if it shall teach any troubled soul to endure and hope; if + it shall lead any weary spirit to the Fountain of consolation; in one + word, if it shall help any, by Christ's strength, to weave the thorns that + wound them into a crown, I shall be richly rewarded, and, I trust, + grateful to that God to whose service I dedicate this book, invoking his + blessing upon it. + </p> + <p> + E. H. C. + </p> + <p> + May, 1860 + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Contents + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE THREE TABERNACLES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> THE SHADOW OF DISAPPOINTMENT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> LIFE A TALE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE CHRISTIAN VIEW OF SORROW </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> CHRISTIAN CONSOLATION IN LONELINESS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> RESIGNATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> THE MISSION OF LITTLE CHILDREN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> OUR RELATIONS TO THE DEPARTED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> THE VOICES OF THE DEAD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> MYSTERY AND FAITH </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + THE THREE TABERNACLES + </h2> + <p> + And Peter answered and said to Jesus, Master, it is good for us to be + here: and let us make three tabernacles, one for thee, and one for Moses, + and one for Elias. MARK ix. 5. + </p> + <p> + Caught up in glory and in rapture, the Apostle seems to have forgotten the + world from which he had ascended, and to which he still belonged, and to + have craved permanent shelter and extatic communion within the mystic + splendors that brightened the Mount of Transfiguration. But it was true, + not only as to the confusion of his faculties, but the purport of his + desire, that "he knew not what he said." For even "while he yet spake," + the cloud overshadowed them, the heavenly forms vanished, they found + themselves with Jesus alone, and an awful Voice summoned them from + contemplation to duty,—from vision to work. + </p> + <p> + Peter knew not what he said. He would have converted the means into an + end. He and his fellow-disciples had been called to follow Christ not that + they might see visions, but had been permitted to see visions that they + might follow Christ. Just previous to that celestial interview, Jesus had + announced to them his own painful doom, and had swept away their conceit + of Messianic glories involved with earthly pomp and dominion, by his + declaration of the self-denial, the shame, and the suffering, which lay in + the path of those who really espoused his cause and entered into his + kingdom. They needed such a revelation as this, then, upon the Mount of + Transfiguration, to support them under the stroke which had shaken their + earthly delusion, and let in glimpses of the sadder truth. It was well + that they should behold the leaders of the old dispensation confirming and + ministering to the greatness of the new, and the religion which was to go + down into the dark places of the earth made manifest in its authority and + its source from Heaven. It was well that they should see their Master + glorified, that they might be strengthened to see him crucified. It was + well that Moses and Elias stood at the font, when they were about to be + baptized into their apostleship of suffering, and labor, and helping + finish the work which these glorious elders helped begin. But that great + work still lay before them, and to rest here would be to stop upon the + threshold;—to have kept the vision would have thwarted the purpose. + Upon a far higher summit, and at a far distant time—with fields of + toil and tracts of blood between—would that which was meant as an + inspiration for their souls become fixed for their sight, and tabernacles + that should never perish enclose a glory that should never pass away. + </p> + <p> + You may have anticipated the lessons for ourselves which I propose to draw + from this unconsidered request of Peter. At least, you will readily + perceive that it does contain suggestions applicable to our daily life. + For I proceed, at once, to ask you if it is not a fact that often we would + like to remain where, and to have what, is not best for us? Do not + illustrations of this simple thought occur easily to your minds? Does not + man often desire, as it were, to build his tabernacles here or there, when + due consideration, and after-experience will convince him that it was not + the place to abide; that it was better that the good be craved, or the + class of relations to which he clung, should not be permanent? In order to + give effect to this train of reflection, let me direct you to some + specific instances in which this desire is manifested. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps I may say, without any over-refinement upon my topic, that there + are three things in life to which the desires of men especially cling,—three + tabernacles which upon the slope of this world they would like to build. I + speak now, it is to be remembered, of desires of impulse, not of + deliberation,—of desires often felt, if not expressed. And I say, in + the first place, that there are certain conditions in life itself that it + sometimes appears desirable to retain. Sometimes, from the heart of a man, + there breaks forth a sigh for perpetual youth. In the perplexities of + mature years,—in the experience of selfishness, and hollowness, and + bitter disappointment; in the surfeit of pleasure; in utter weariness of + the world,—he exclaims, "O! give me back that sweet morning of my + days, when all my feelings were fresh, and the heart was wet with a + perpetual dew. Give me the untried strength; the undeceived trust; the + credulous imagination, that bathed all things in molten glory, and filled + the unknown world with infinite possibilities." Sad with skepticism, and + tired with speculation, he cries out for that faith that needed no other + confirmation than the tones of a mother's voice, and found God everywhere + in the soft pressure of her love; and when his steps begin to hesitate, + and he finds himself among the long shadows, and the frailty and fear of + the body overcome the prophecies of the soul, and no religious assurance + lights and lifts up his mind, how he wishes for some fountain of + restoration that shall bring back his bloom and his strength, and make him + always young! "Why have such experiences as decline, and decay, and + death?" he asks. "Is it not good for us to be ever young? Why should not + the body be a tabernacle of constant youth, and life be always thus fresh, + and buoyant, and innocent, and confiding? Or, if we must, at last, die, + why all this sad experience,—this incoming of weakness,—this + slipping away of life and power?" + </p> + <p> + But this is a feeling which no wise or good man ever cherishes long, for + he knows that the richest experiences, and the best achievements of life, + come after the period of youth; spring out of this very sadness, and + suffering, and rough struggle in the world, which an unthinking + sentimentality deplores. Ah, my friends, in spite of our trials, our + weariness, our sad knowledge of men and things; in spite of the declining + years among which so many of us are standing, and the tokens of decay that + are coming upon us; nay, in spite even of our very sins; who would go back + to the hours of his youthful experience, and have the shadow stand still + at that point upon the dial of his life? Who, for the sake of its + innocence and its freshness, would empty the treasury of his broader + knowledge, and surrender the strength that he has gathered in effort and + endurance? Who, for its careless joy, would exchange the heart-warm + friendships that have been annealed in the vicissitudes of years,—the + love that sheds a richer light upon our path, as its vista lengthens, or + has drawn our thoughts into the glory that is beyond the veil? Nay, even + if his being, has been most frivolous and aimless, or vile,—in the + penitent throb with which this is felt to be so, there is a. spring of + active power which exists not in the dreams of the youth; and the sense of + guilt and of misery is the stirring, of a life infinitely deeper than that + early flow of vitality and—consciousness which sparkles as it runs. + Build a tabernacle for perpetual youth, and say, "It is good to be here?" + It cannot be so; and it is well that it cannot. Our post is not the Mount + of Vision, but the Field of Labor; and we can find no rest in Eden until + we have passed through, Gethsemane. + </p> + <p> + Equally vain is the desire for some condition in life which shall be free + from care, and want, and the burden of toil. I suppose most people do, at + times, wish for such a lot, and secretly or openly repine at the terms + upon which they are compelled to live. The deepest fancy in the heart of + the most busy men is repose—retirement-command of time and means, + untrammeled by any imperative claim. And yet who is there that, thrown + into such a position, would find it for his real welfare, and would be + truly happy? Perhaps the most restless being in the world is the man who + need do nothing, but keep still. The old soldier fights all his battles + over again, and the retired merchant spreads the sails of his thought upon + new ventures, or comes uneasily down to snuff the air of traffic, and feel + the jar of wheels. I suppose there is nobody whose condition is so + deplorable, so ghastly, as his whose lot many may be disposed to envy,—a + man at the top of this world's ease, crammed to repletion with what is + called "enjoyment;" ministered to by every luxury,—the entire + surface of his life so smooth with completeness that there is not a jut to + hang, a hope on,—so obsequiously gratified in every specific want + that he feels miserable from the very lack of wanting. As in such a case + there, can be no religious life—which never permits us to rest in a + feeling of completeness; which seldom abides with fulness(sic) of + possession, and never stops with self, but always inspires to some great + work of love and sacrifice—as in such a case there can be no + religious life, he fully realizes the poet's description of the splendor + and the wretchedness of him who + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + " * * built his soul a costly pleasure-house + Wherein at ease for aye to dwell;" +</pre> + <p> + and who said + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + " * * O soul, make merry and carouse + Dear soul, for all is well. + + * * * * * * * + + Singing and murmuring in her feastful mirth, + Joying to feel herself alive, + Lord over nature, lord of the visible earth, + Lord of the 'senses five + + "Communing with herself:, 'All these are mine, + And let the world have peace or wars, +</pre> + <hr /> + <hr /> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + She throve, but on the fourth she fell, + Like Herod, when the shout was in his ears, + Struck through with pangs of hell." +</pre> + <p> + The truth is, there is no one place, however we may envy it, which would + be indisputably good for us to occupy; much less for us to remain in. The + zest of life, like the pleasure which we receive from a work of art, or + from nature, comes from undulations—from inequalities; not from any + monotony, even though it be the monotony of seeming perfection. The beauty + of the landscape depends upon contrasts, and would be lost in one common + surface of splendor. The grandeur of the waves is in the deep hollows, as + well as the culminating crests; and the bars of the sunset glow on the + background of the twilight. The very condition of a great thing is that it + must be comparatively a rare thing. We speak of summer glories, and yet + who would wish it to be always summer?—who does not see how + admirably the varied seasons are fitted to our appetite for change? It may + seem as if it would be pleasant to have it always sunshine; and yet when + fruit and plant are dying from lack of moisture, and the earth sleeps + exhausted in the torrid air, who ever saw a summer morning more beautiful + than that when the clouds muster their legions to the sound of the + thunder, and pour upon us the blessing of the rain? We repine at toil, and + yet how gladly do we turn in from the lapse of recreation to the harness + of effort! We sigh for the freedom and glory of the country; but, in due + time, just as fresh and beautiful seem to us the brick walls and the busy + streets where our lot is cast, and our interests run. There is no + condition in life of which we can say exclusively "It is good for us to be + here." Our course is appointed through vicissitude,—our discipline + is in alternations; and we can build no abiding tabernacles along the way. + </p> + <p> + But, I observe, in the second place, that there are those who may discard + the notion of retaining any particular condition of life and yet they + would preserve unbroken some of its relations. They may not keep the + freshness of youth, or prevent the intrusion of trouble, or shut out the + claims of responsibility, or the demands for effort;—they may not + achieve anything of this kind; and they do not wish to achieve it; but + they would build a tabernacle to LOVE, and keep the objects of dear + affection safe within its enclosure. "Joy, sorrow, poverty, riches, youth, + decay, let these come as they must," say they, "in the flow of Providence; + but let the heart's sanctuaries remain unbroken, and let us in all this + chance find the presence and the ministration of those we love." And, + common as the sight is, we must always contemplate with a fresh sadness + this sundering of family bonds; this cancelling(sic) of the dear realities + of home; this stealing in of the inevitable gloom; this vacating of the + chair, the table, and the bed; this vanishing of the familiar face into + darkness; this passage from communion to memory; this diminishing of + love's orb into narrower phases,—into a crescent,—into a + shadow. Surely, however broad the view we take of the universe, a real + woe, a veritable experience of suffering, amidst this boundless + benificence, reaching as deep as the heart's core, is this old and common + sorrow;—the sorrow of woman for her babes, and of man for his + helpmate, and of age for its prop, and of the son for the mother that bore + him, and of the heart for the hearts that once beat in sympathy, and of + the eyes that hide vacancies with tears. When these old stakes are + wrenched from their sockets, and these intimate cords are snapped, one + begins to feel his own tent shake and flap in the wind that comes from + eternity, and to realize that there is no abiding tabernacle here. + </p> + <p> + But ought we really to wish that these relations might remain unbroken, + and to murmur because it is not so? We shall be able to answer this + question in the negative, I think,—however hard it may be to do so,—when + we consider, in the first place, that this breaking up and separation are + inevitable. For we may be assured that whatever in the system of things is + inevitable is beneficent. The dissolution of these bonds comes by the same + law as that which ordains them; and we may be sure that the one—though + it plays out of sight, and is swallowed up in mystery—is as wise and + tender in its purpose as the other. It is very consoling to recognize the + Hand that gave in the Hand that takes a friend, and to know that he is + borne away in the bosom of Infinite Gentleness, as he was brought here. It + is the privilege of angels, and of a faith that brings us near the angels, + to always behold the face of our Father in Heaven; and so we shall not + desire the abrogation of this law of dissolution and separation. We shall + strengthen ourselves to contemplate the fact that the countenances we love + must change, and the ties that are closest to our hearts will break; and + we shall feel that it ought to be, because it must be,—because it is + an inevitability in that grand and bounteous scheme in which stars rise + and set, and life and death play into each other. + </p> + <p> + But, even within the circle of our own knowledge, there is that which may + reconcile us to these separations, and prevent the vain wish of building + perpetual tabernacles for our human love. For who is prepared, at any + time, to say that it was not better for the dear friend, and better for + ourselves, that he should go, rather than stay;—better for the + infant to die with flowers upon its breast, than to live and have thorns + in its heart;—better to kiss the innocent lips that are still and + cold, than to see the living lips that are scorched with guilty passion;—better + to take our last look of a face while it is pleasant to remember—serene + with thought, and faith, and many charities—than to see it toss in + prolonged agony, and grow hideous with the wreck of intellect? And, as + spiritual beings, placed here not to be gratified, but to be trained, + surely we know that often it is the drawing up of these earthly ties that + draws up our souls; that a great bereavement breaks the crust of our mere + animal consciousness, and inaugurates a spiritual faith; and we are + baptized into eternal life through the cloud and the shadow of death. + </p> + <p> + But, once more, I remark, that there are those who may say, "We do not ask + for any permanence in the conditions of life; we do not ask that even its + dearest relationships should be retained; but give, O! give us ever those + highest brightest moods of faith and of truth, which constitute the glory + of religion, and lift us above the conflict and the sin of the world!" No + truly religious mind can fail to perceive the gravitation of its thoughts + and desires, and the contrast between its usual level and its best moments + of contemplation and prayer. And it. may indeed seem well to desire the + prolongation of these experiences; to desire to live ever in that + unworldly radiance, close to the canopy of God,—in company with the + great and the holy,—in company with the apostles and with Jesus,—on + some Mount of Transfiguration, in garments whiter than snow, and with + faces bright as the sun; and the hard, bad, trying world far distant and + far below. Does not the man of spiritual sensitiveness envy those sainted + ones who have grown apart, in pure clusters, away above the sinful world, + blossoming and breathing fragrance on the very slopes of heaven? + </p> + <p> + And yet, is this the complete ideal of life? and is this the way in which + we are to accomplish its true end? I think we may safely say that even the + brightest realizations of religion should be comparatively rare, otherwise + we forget the work and lose the discipline of our mortal lot. The great + saints—the men whose names stand highest in the calendar of the + church universal—are not the ascetics, not the contemplators, not + the men who walked apart in cloisters; but those who came down from the + Mount of Communion and Glory, to take a part in the world; who have + carried its burdens in their souls, and its scars upon their breasts; who + have wrought for its deepest interests, and died for its highest good; + whose garments have swept its common ways, and whose voices have thrilled + in its low places of suffering and of need;—men who have leaned + lovingly against the world, until the motion of their great hearts jars in + its pulses forever; men who have gone up from dust, and blood, and + crackling fire; men with faces of serene endurance and lofty denial, yet + of broad, genial, human sympathies;—these are the men who wear + starry crowns, and walk in white robes, yonder. + </p> + <p> + We need our visions for inspiration, but we must work in comparative + shadow; otherwise, the very highest revelations would become monotonous, + and we should long for still higher. And yet, are there not some whose + desire is for constant revelation? Who would see supernatural sights, and + hear supernatural sounds, and know all the realities towards which they + are drifting, as well as those in which they must work? They would make + this world a mount of perpetual vision; overlooking the fact that it has + its own purposes, to be wrought out by its own light, and within its own + limits. For my part, I must confess that I do not share in this desire to + know all about the next world, and to see beforehand everything that is + going to be. I have no solicitude about the mere scenery and modes of the + future state. But this desire to be in the midst of perpetual revelations + argues that there is not enough to fill our minds and excite our wonder + here; when all things around us are pregnant with suggestion, and invite + us, and offer unfathomed depths for our curious seeking. There is so much + here, too, for our love and our discipline; so much for us to do, that we + hardly need more revelations just now;—they might overwhelm and + disturb us in the pursuit of these appointed ends. Moreover, the + gratification of this desire would foreclose that glorious anticipation, + that trembling expectancy, which is so fraught with inspiration and + delight,—the joy of the unknown, the bliss of the thought that there + is a great deal yet to be revealed. + </p> + <p> + We do need some revelation; just such as has been given;—a glimpse + of the immortal splendors; an articulate Voice from heaven—a view of + the glorified Jesus; a revelation in a point of time, just as that on the + mount was in point of space. We need some; but not too much,—not all + revelation; not revelation as a customary fact. If so, I repeat, we should + neglect this ordained field of thought and action. We should live in a + sphere of supernaturalism,—in an atmosphere of wonder,—amid a + planetary roll of miracles; still unsatisfied; still needing the + suggestion of higher points to break the stupendous monotony. + </p> + <p> + And I insist that work, not vision, is to be the ordinary method of our + being here, against the position of those who shut themselves in to a + contemplative and extatic piety. They would escape from the age, and its + anxieties; they would recall past conditions; they would get into the + shadow of cloisters, and build cathedrals for an exclusive sanctity. And, + indeed, we would do well to consider those tendencies of our time which + lead us away from the inner life of faith and prayer. But this we should + cherish, not by withdrawing all sanctity from life, but by pouring + sanctity into life. We should not quit the world, to build tabernacles in + the Mount of Transfiguration, but come from out the celestial brightness, + to shed light into the world,—to make the whole earth a cathedral; + to overarch it with Christian ideals, to transfigure its gross and guilty + features, and fill it with redeeming truth and love. + </p> + <p> + Surely, the lesson of the incident connected with the text is clear, so + far as the apostles were concerned, who beheld that dazzling, brightness, + and that heavenly companionship, apart on the mount. They were not + permitted to remain apart; but were dismissed to their appointed work. + Peter went to denial and repentance,—to toil and martyrdom; James to + utter his practical truth; John to send the fervor of his spirit among the + splendors of the Apocalypse, and, in its calmer flow through his Gospel, + to give us the clearest mirror of the Saviour's face. + </p> + <p> + Nay, even for the Redeemer that was not to be an abiding vision; and he + illustrates the purport of life as he descends from his transfiguration to + toil, and goes forward to exchange that robe of heavenly, brightness for + the crown of thorns. + </p> + <p> + What if Jesus had remained there, upon that Mount of Vision, and himself + stood before us as only a transfigured form of glory? Where then would be + the peculiarity of his work, and its effect upon the world? + </p> + <p> + On the wall of the Vatican, untarnished by the passage of three hundred + years, hangs the masterpiece of Raphael,—his picture of the + Transfiguration. In the centre, with the glistening raiment and the + altered countenance, stands Jesus, the Redeemer. On the right hand and on + the left are his glorified visitants; while, underneath the bright cloud, + lie the forms of Peter, and James, and John, gazing at the transfigured + Jesus, shading their faces as they look. Something of the rapture and the + awe that attracted the apostles to that shining spot seems to have seized + the soul of the great artist, and filled him with his greatest + inspiration. But he saw what the apostles, at that moment, did not see, + and, in another portion of his picture, has represented the scene at the + foot of the hill,—the group that awaited the descent of Jesus.. The + poor possessed boy, writhing, and foaming, and gnashing his teeth,—his + eyes, as some say, in their wild rolling agony, already catching a glimpse + of the glorified Christ above; the baffled disciples, the caviling + scribes, the impotent physicians, the grief-worn father, seeking in vain + for help. Suppose Jesus had stayed upon the mount, what would have become + of that group of want, and helplessness, and agony? Suppose Christ had + remained in the brightness of that vision forever,—himself only a + vision of glory, and not an example of toil, and sorrow, and suffering, + and death,—alas! For the great world at large, waiting at the foot + of the hill—the groups of humanity in all ages;—the + sin-possessed sufferers—the caviling skeptics; the philosophers, + with their books and instruments; the bereaved and frantic mourners in + their need! + </p> + <p> + So, my hearers, wrapped in the higher moods of the soul, and wishing to + abide among upper glories, we may not see the work that waits for us along + our daily path; without doing which all our visions are vain. We must have + the visions. We need them in our estimate of the world around us,—of + the aspects and destinies of humanity. There are times when justice is + balked, and truth covered up, and freedom trampled down;—when we may + well be tempted to ask, "What is the use of trying to work?"—when we + may well inquire whether what-we are doing is work at all. And in such a + case, or in any other, one is lifted up, and inspired, and enabled to do + and to endure all things, when in steady vision he beholds the everliving + God,—when all around the injustice, and conflict, and suffering of + the world, he detects the Divine Presence, like a bright cloud + overshadowing. O! then doubt melts away, and wrong dwindles, and the + jubilee of victorious falsehood is but a peal of drunken laughter, and the + spittings of guilt and contempt no more than flakes of foam flung against + a hero's breast-plate. Then one sees, as it were, with the vision of God, + who looked down upon the old cycles, when a sweltering waste covered the + face of the globe, and huge, reptile natures held it in dominion;—who + beholds the pulpy worm, down in the sea, building the pillars of + continents;—so one sees the principalities of evil sliding from + their thrones, and the deposits of humble faithfulness rising from the + deep of ages. Our sympathy, our benevolent effort in the work of God and + humanity, how much do they need not only the vision of intellectual + foresight, but of the faith which, on bended knees, sees further than the + telescope! + </p> + <p> + And alas! for him who, in his personal need and effort, has no margin of + holier inspiration—no rim of divine splendor—-around his daily + life! Without the vision of life's great realities we cannot see what our + work is, or know how to do it. + </p> + <p> + But such visions must be necessarily rare and transient, or we shall miss + their genuine efficacy. We must work in comparative shadow, without the + immediate sight of these realities; and only in the place of our rest,—rest + for higher efforts and a new career,—only there may we have their + constant companionship, and build their perpetual tabernacles. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE SHADOW OF DISAPPOINTMENT. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But we trusted that it had been he which should have + redeemed Israel. LUKE xxiv. 21. +</pre> + <p> + In the accounts of the disciples, contained in the New Testament, there is + no attempt to glorify them, or to conceal any weakness. From the first to + the last, they think and act precisely as men would think and act in their + circumstances;—they are affected just as others of like culture + would be affected by such events as those set forth in the record. And the + genuineness of their conduct argues the genuineness of the incidents which + excited it. The divine, wonderworking, risen Jesus, is the necessary + counterpart of the amazed, believing, erring hoping, desponding, rejoicing + fishermen and publicans. This stamp of reality is very evident in the + instance before us. The conduct and the feelings of the disciples are + those of men who have been involved in a succession of strange + experiences. For a little while they have been in communion with One who + has spoken as never man spoke, and who has touched the deepest springs of + their being. He has lifted them out of the narrow limits of their previous + lives. From the Receipt of Customs, and the Galilean lake, he has summoned + them to the interests and awards, the thought and the work, of a spiritual + and divine kingdom. At first following him, perhaps they hardly knew why, + conscious only that he had the Words of Eternal Life, the terms of this + discipleship have grown into bonds of the dearest intimacy. Their Master + has become their Companion and their Friend, and their faith has deepened + into tender and confiding love. But still, theirs has been the belief of + the trusting soul, rather than the enlightened intellect. From the fitness + of the teaching, and the wonder of the miracle, they have felt that he was + the very Christ; and yet, from this conviction of the heart they have not + been able to separate their Jewish conceits. Sometimes, it may be, the + language of the Saviour has carried them up into a broader and more + spiritual region; but then, they have subsided into their symbols and + shadows;—only, notwithstanding the errors that have hindered, and + the hints that have awed them, they have steadily felt the inspiration of + a great hope, the expectation of something glorious to be revealed in the + speedy coming of the Messiah's kingdom. And now, does not the account + immediately connected with the text picture for us exactly the state of + men whose conceptions have been broken up by a great shock, and yet in + whose hearts the central hope still remains and vibrates with mysterious + tenacity?—men who have had the form of their expectation utterly + refuted and scattered into darkness, but who still cherish its spirit? + Christ the crowned King,—Christ the armed Deliverer,—Christ + the Avenger, sweeping away his foes with one burst of miracle,—is to + them, no more. They saw the multitude seize him, and no legions came to + rescue;—they saw him condemned, abused, crucified, buried; and so, + in no sense of which they could conceive, was this he who should have + redeemed Israel. And yet the suggestion of something still to come,—something + connected with three days,—lingered in their minds. And, in the + midst of their despondency, striking upon this very chord, the startling + rumor reached them that Christ had risen from the dead. It was in this + mood that Jesus found the two disciples whose words I have selected for my + text;—faith and doubt, disappointment and hope, alternating in their + minds; their Jewish conceit laid prostrate in the dust, and yet the + expectation of something, they knew not what, now strangely confirmed. See + how these feelings mingle in the passage before us. "What manner of + communications," said the undiscerned Saviour, "are these that ye have one + to another, as ye walk, and are sad?"-"Art thou only a stranger in + Jerusalem," says one of them, "and hast not known the things which are + come to pass there in these days?" What things? "Concerning Jesus of + Nazareth," replied they, "which was a prophet mighty in deed and word + before God and all the people: and how the chief priests and our rulers + delivered him to be condemned to death, and have crucified him. But we + trusted that it had been he which should have redeemed Israel: and beside + all this, to-day is the third day since these things were done. Yea, and + certain women also of our company made us astonished, which were early at + the sepulchre; and when they found not his body, they came, saying, that + they had also seen a vision of angels, which said that he was alive. And + certain of them which were with us went to the sepulchre, and found it + even so as the women had said: but him they saw not." + </p> + <p> + My hearers, I think we see, in this instance the minds of these disciples + working as the minds of men might be expected to work under like + conditions. And to me this casts a complexion of genuineness upon the + transactions which, as stated in the record, account for these mental + alternations. The entire passage is alive with reality. The genuine + emotions of humanity play and thrill together, there, in the shadow of the + cross and the glory of the resurrection. + </p> + <p> + But, if these feelings are thus natural, the experience itself indicated + in that portion of this verse which constitutes the text is not entirely + removed from our ordinary life. The incident which occasioned these sad + words was an extraordinary one; but its moral significance, as it now + comes before us, illustrates many a passage in man's daily course. The + language, as we read it, appears to be the language of disappointment;—-it + was under the shadow of disappointment, though alternating with hope, that + these disciples spoke; and it is to the lessons afforded by disappointment + in the course of life that I now especially invite your attention. + </p> + <p> + And the precise point in the text, bearing upon this subject, is the fact, + that while the disciples seemed to feel as though all redemption for + Israel was now hopeless, that process of redemption for Israel, and for + the world, was going on through the agency of those very events which had + filled them with dismay. Even as they were speaking, in tones of sadness, + about the crucified Christ, the living Christ, made perfect for his work + by that crucifixion, was walking by their side. Looking far this side of + that shadow of disappointment which then brooded over them, we see all + this, that then they did not see; but now is it with ourselves, under the + frequent shadows cast by more ordinary events? This suggestion may afford + us some profitable thoughts. + </p> + <p> + I need hardly say, in the first place, that man is continually inspired by + expectation. Every effort he makes is made in the conviction of + possibility and the light of hope. This is the heart of ambition and the + spring of toil. It is the balm which he applies to the wounds of + misfortune. It is the key with which he tries the wards of nature. And + from the morning of life to its last twilight he is always looking. + forward. The saddest spectacle of all—sadder even than pain, and + bereavement, and death—is a man void of hope. The most abject people + is a hopeless people, in whose hearts the memories of the past, and the + pulses of endeavor, and the courage of faith are dead, and who crouch by + their own thresholds and the crumbling tombstones of their fathers, and + take the tyrant's will, without an incentive, and without even a dream. + The most intense form in which misery can express itself is in the phrase, + "I have nothing to live for." And he who can actually say, and who really + feels this, is dead, and covered with the very pall and darkness of + calamity. But few, indeed, are they who can, with truth, say this. + </p> + <p> + But if hope or expectation is such a vital element of human experience, so + does disappointment have its part in the mechanism of things, and, as we + shall presently see, its wise and beneficial part. For, after all, how few + things correspond with the forecast of expectation! To be sure, some + results transcend our hope; but how many fall below it,—balk it,—turn + out exactly opposite to it! Among those who meet with disappointments in + life, there are those who are expecting impossibilities,—whose + expectations are inordinate,—are more than the nature of things will + admit; or who are looking for a harvest where they have planted no seed. + They carry the dreams of youth in among the realities of the world, and + its vanishing visions leave them naked and discouraged. The light of + romance, that glorified all things in the future, recedes as they advance, + and they come upon rugged paths of fact—upon plain toil and daily + care,—upon the market and the field, and upon men as they are in + their weakness, and their selfishness, and their mutual distrust. Or they + belong, it may be, to that class who are too highly charged with hope; + whose sanguine notions never go by induction, but by leaps; who never + calculate the difficulties, but only see the thing complete and rounded in + imagination;—men with plenty of poetry, and no arithmetic; whose + theories work miracles, but whose attempts are failures. It is pleasant, + sometimes, to meet with people like these, who, clothed in the scantiest + garments, and with only a crust upon their tables, at the least touch of + suggestion, mount into a region of splendor. Their poverty all fades away;—the + bare walls, the tokens of stern want, the dusty world, are all + transfigured with infinite possibilities. Achievement is only a word, and + fortune comes in at a stride. The palace of beauty rises, fruits bloom in + waste places, gold drops from the rocks, and the entire movement of life + becomes a march of jubilee. And they are so certain this time,—the + plan they now have is so sure to succeed! I repeat, it is pleasant, + sometimes, to have intercourse with such men, who throw bloom and + marvelousness upon the actualities of the world, from the reservoirs of + their sanguine invention. At least, it is pleasant to think how this + faculty of unfailing enthusiasm enables them to bear defeat, and to look + away from the cold face of necessity;—to think that, while so many + are trudging after the sounding wheels and the monotonous jar of life, and + lying down by the way to die, these men are marching buoyantly to a tune + inside. And yet this is pleasant only from a hasty point of view. These + people meet with disappointment, of course; and it is sad to think how + many lives have come to absolutely nothing, and are all strewn over, from + boyhood to the grave, with the fragments of splendid schemes. It is sad to + think how all their visionary Balbecs and Palmyras have been reared in a + real desert,—the desert of an existence producing no substantial + thing. And among these vanishing dreams, and on that melancholy waste, + they learn, at last, the meaning of their disappointment. And from their + experience, we too may learn, that we are placed here to be not merely + ideal artists, but actual toilers; not cadets of hope, but soldiers of + endeavor. + </p> + <p> + But there are disappointments in life that succeed reasonable expectation; + and these are the hardest of all to bear. I say the expectation is + reasonable; and yet, very possibly, the bitterness of the disappointment + comes from neglecting to consider the infirmity of all earthly things. It + is hard when, not dreaming, but trying our best, we fail. It is hard to + bear the burden and heat of the day, through all life's prime, and yet, + with all our toil, to earn no repose for its evening hours. It is hard to + accumulate a little gain, baptizing every dollar with our honest sweat, + and then have it stricken from our grasp by the band of calamity or of + fraud. It is hard, when we have placed our confidence in man's honor, or + his friendship, to find that we are fools, and that we have been led in + among rocks and serpents. And hard indeed is it to see those who were + worthy our love and our faith drop by our side, and leave us alone. This + dear child, the blossom of so many hopes,—hard is it to see him die—to + fold all our expectation in his little shroud, and lay it away forever. We + thought it had been he who should have comforted and blessed us,—in + whose life we could have retraced the cycle of our own happiest + experience,—whose unfolding faculties would have been a renewal of + our knowledge, and his manhood not merely the prop but the refreshing of + our age. This companion of our lot,—this wedded wife of our heart,—why + taken away now? She has shared our early struggles, and tempered our + anxiety with cheerful assurance. She has tasted the bitterness; we thought + she would have been a partner of the joy. She has borne our fretfulness, + and helped our perplexity, and shed a serene light into our gloom; We + thought she would have been with us when we could pay the debt of + faithfulness; when the cares of business did not press and disturb us so. + We thought it was she whose voice, sweet with the music of old, deep + memories, would have consoled us far along; and that, in some calm evening + of life, when all the tumult of the world was still, and we were ready to + go, we should go—not far apart—gently to our graves. + </p> + <p> + Such are the plans that we lay out, saying of this thing and of that + thing, "We trusted that it would have been so." But the answer has been + disappointment. The old, ay, perhaps the most common lesson of life, is + disappointment. + </p> + <p> + And now I ask, is it not an intended lesson? Evidently it comes in as an + element in the Providential plan in which we are involved. For we see its + disciplinary nature,—its wise and beneficial results in harmony with + that Plan. Consider whether it is not the fact, that the entire discipline + of life grows out of a succession of disappointments. That youthful dream, + in which life has stretched out like a sunny landscape with purple + mountain-chains—is it not well that it is broken up, and we strike + upon rugged realities? Does not all the strength of manhood, and the power + of achievement, and the glory of existence, depend upon these things which + are not included in the young boy's vision of a happy world. Welcome, O! + disappointment of our hope that life would prove a perpetual holiday. + Welcome experience of the fact that blessing comes not from pleasure, but + from labor! For in that experience alone was there ever anything truly + great or good accomplished. We can conceive no possible way by which one + can be made personally strong without his own effort;—no possible + way by which the mind can be enriched and strengthened where it is lifted + up, instead of climbing for itself;—no way, therefore, in which life + could be at all a worthy achievement, if it were merely a plain of ease, + instead of holding every ward of knowledge and of power under the guard of + difficulty and the requisition of endeavor. + </p> + <p> + And it is equally true that the greatest successes grow out of great + failures. In numerous instances the result is better that comes after a + series of abortive experiences than it would have been if it had come at + once. For all these successive failures induce a skill, which is so much + additional power working into the final achievement. Nobody passes at once + to the mastery, in any branch of science or of industry; and when he does + become a master in his work it is evident, not only in the positive + excellence of his performance, but in the sureness with which he avoids + defects; and these defects he has learned by experimental failures. The + hand that evokes such perfect music from the instrument has often failed + in its touch, and bungled among the keys. And if a man derives skill from + his own failures, so does he from the failures of other men. Every + unsuccessful attempt is, for him, so much work done; for he will not go + over that ground again, but seek some new way. Every disappointed effort + fences in and indicates the only possible path of success, and makes it + easier to find. We should thank past ages and other men, not only for what + they have left us of great things done, but for the heritage of their + failures. Every baffled effort for freedom contributes skill for the next + attempt, and ensures the day of victory. Nations stripped and bound, and + waiting for liberty under the shadow of thrones, cherish in memory not + only the achievements of their heroes, but the defeats of their martyrs; + and when the trumpet-voice shall summon them once more, as surely it will,—when + they shall draw for the venture of freedom, and unroll its glittering + standard to the winds,—they will avoid the stumbling blocks which + have sacrificed the brave, and the errors which have postponed former + hopes. In public and in private action, it is true that disappointment is + the school of achievement, and the balked efforts are the very agents that + help us to our purpose. + </p> + <p> + And, if life itself—life as a whole—seems to us but a series + of disappointments, is not this the very conviction we need to work out + from it, through our own experience? Do we not need to learn that this + life itself is not sufficient, and holds no blessing that will fill us + completely, and with which we may forever rest? The baffled hopes of our + mortal state;—what are they but vain strivings of the human soul, + out of the path of its highest good? The wandering bird, driven against + the branches, and beaten by the storm, flutters at last to the clear + opening, by which it mounts above the cloud, and finds its way to its + home. This life is not ordained in vain;—it is constituted for a + grand purpose, if through its lessons of experience we become convinced + that this life is not all. In the outset of our existence here, and merely + from the teaching of others, we cannot comprehend the great realities of + existence. + </p> + <p> + How the things that have grown familiar to our eyes, and the lessons that + have sounded trite upon our ears, become fresh and wonderful, as life + turns into experience! How this very lesson of disappointment lets us in + to the deep meanings of Scripture, for instance! The Christ of our youth,—a + personage standing mild and beautiful upon the Gospel-page,——a + being to admire and love; how be develops to our later thought! how + solemnly tender, how greatly real, he becomes to us, when we cling to him + in the agony of our sorrow, and he goes down to walk with us on the waters + of the sea of death! As traditional sentiment,—as a wholesome + subject for school-composition,—we have spoken and written of the + weariness of the world-worn heart, and the frailty of earthly things. But, + O! when our hearts have actually become worn, and tried; when we begin to + learn that the things of this life are evanescent,—are dropping away + from us, and we slipping from them,—what inspiration of reality + comes to us in the oft-heard invitation, "Come unto me, all ye that labor + and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest!" What a depth of meaning + flowing from the eternal world, in the precept we have read so carelessly,—"Lay + not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth + corrupt, and thieves break through and steal!" Thus the best results of + life come from the defeats and the limitations that are involved with it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +And, in all this, observe how disappointment is the instrument of higher +blessings. See how thus life itself suggests a higher good than life +itself can yield. And so the attitude of the disciples, after the +crucifixion, illustrates many experiences of our earthly lot. Those +incidents which perplexed and grieved them were securing the very +results they seemed to prevent. So, in our ordinary life, the things +that appear most adverse to us are often the most favorable. + + I may say, indeed, that to any man who is rightly exercised +by it, disappointment always brings a better result. But this statement +requires that I should say, likewise, that the result of disappointment +depends upon the level and quality of a man's spirit. "One thing happens +alike to the wise man and the fool." But how different in texture and +substance is the final result of the event! Disappointment breaks down +a feeble and shallow man. There are those, again, whom it does not make +better,—in fact, whom nothing, as we can see, makes better. Everything +glides easily off from them. Now, it is a noble thing to see a man rise +above misfortune,—a moral Prometheus, submissive to the actual will of +God, but defying fate. But there are men whose very elasticity indicates +the superficiality of their nature. For it is good sometimes to be +sad,—good to have depth of being sufficient for misfortune to sink +into, and, accomplish its proper work. But the man who rightly receives +the lesson of disappointment, and improves by its discipline, bent as +he is on some great or good work, is impelled by it only to a change +of method,—never to a change of purpose; and the disappointment +effectually serves the purpose. But the fact before us is most clearly +seen when we contemplate the results of disappointment upon a religious +and un-religious spirit. A man is not made better by disappointment to +whom this world is virtually everything;—to whom spiritual things are +not realities. To him life is a narrow stream between jutting crags, and +its substance flows away with the objects before his eyes. Nay, some men +of this sort are made worse by the failure of earthly hopes, and their +natures are compressed and hammered by misfortune into a sullen and +granitic defiance. But he who sees beyond these material limits, looking +to the great end and final relations of our being, always extracts from +mortal disappointment a better result. In the wreck of external things +he gathers that spiritual good which is the substance of all life;—that +faith, and patience, and holy love, which, when all that is mortal +and incidental in our humanity passes away, constitute the residuum of +personality. +</pre> + <p> + Our hopes disappointed,—our plans thwarted and overthrown; but out + of that disappointment a richer good evolving than we had conceived; + something that tends more than all our effort to produce the real object + of life. My friends, what do we make out of this fact? Why, surely this, + that life is not our plan, but God's. Consider what we, often, would have + made out of life, and compare this with what Providence has made out of + it. Contrast the man's achievement with the boy's scheme; the dream of + care with the moral glory that has sprung from toil and trouble. Contrast + the idea of the Saviour in the minds of those disciples with the actual + Saviour rising victorious from the conditions of shame and death. + </p> + <p> + Life is God's plan; not ours. We may find this out only by effort; but we + do find it out. + </p> + <p> + We are responsible for the use of our materials, but the materials + themselves, and the great movement of things, are furnished for us. Let us + fall into no ascetic view of life. Out of our joy and our acknowledged + good the Supreme Disposer works his spiritual ends. But, especially, how + often does he do this out of our trials, and sorrows, and so-called evils! + Once more I say life is God's plan; not ours. For often on the ruins of + visionary hope rises the kingdom of our substantial possession and our + true peace; and under the shadow of earthly disappointment, all + unconsciously to ourselves, our Divine Redeemer is walking by our side. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LIFE A TALE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We spend our years as a tale that is told. Psalm xc.9. +</pre> + <p> + We bring our years to an end like a thought, is the proper rendering of + these words, according, to an eminent translator. But as the essential + idea of the Psalmist is preserved in the common version, I employ it as + peculiarly illustrative and forcible. It will be my object, in the present + discourse, to show the fitness of the comparison in the text;—to + suggest the points of resemblance between human life and a passing + narrative. + </p> + <p> + I observe, then, in the first place, that the propriety of this simile is + seen in the brevity of life. What more rapid and momentary than a story? + It is heard, and passes. Though it beguiles us for the time, it dies away + in sound, or melts from before, the eye. And this I say, strikingly + illustrates the brevity of life. The brevity of life! It is a trite truth, + and yet how little realized! Probably there is nothing, more common, and + yet there is nothing, more pernicious, than the habit of virtual + dependence upon length of days. Thus the best ends of our mortal being are + lost sight of; the solemn circumstances, the suggestive mysteries of life, + are misconstrued. The heavens, which give a myriad hints of worlds beyond + the grave, are, to many, impenetrable walls, shutting them in to mere + pursuits of sense,—the upholstery of a workshop or bazaar; and this + earth, which is but a step,—a filmy platform of our immortal course,—is + to them the solid abiding place of all interest, and of all hope. + </p> + <p> + It is well, then, to break in upon this worldly reliance,—to + consider how fleeting and uncertain are the things in which we garner up + so much. Therefore, in order that we may more vividly realize the brevity + of life,—how like it is to a passing tale,—let us consider the + rapidity of its changes, even in a few short years. We are, to some + degree, made aware how fast the current of time bears us on, when we pause + and remark the shores; when we observe how our position to-day has shifted + from what it was yesterday; how the sunny slopes of youth have been + changed for the teeming uplands of maturity; yea, perhaps, how already the + stream is narrowing, and rushing more swiftly as it narrows, towards those + high hills that bound our present vision, upon whose summits lingers the + departing light, and around whose base thickens the solemn shadow. + </p> + <p> + This rapidity of change is most strikingly illustrated when, after a few + years' absence, we return to the scenes of our youth. We plunged into the + current of the world, buoyant and vigorous; our thoughts have been + occupied every hour, and we have not noticed the stealthy shadow of time. + But we come back to that early spot, and look around. Lo! The companions + of our youth have grown into dignified men,—the active and + influential citizens of the place. Care has set + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Busy wrinkles round their eyes." +</pre> + <p> + They meet us with formal deportment, or with an ill-concealed + restlessness, as though we hindered them in their work,—work! Which, + when we parted with them, would have been flung to the winds for any idle + sport. How quickly they have changed into this gravity and anxiety! On the + other hand, those who stood where they stand now,—whose names + occupied the signs and the records which theirs now fill,—have + passed away, or, here and there, come tottering along, bent and + gray-headed men. Those, too, who were mere infants-those whom we never + saw-take up our old stations, and inspire them with the gladness of + childhood. And exactly thus have we changed to others. We are a mirror to + them and they to us. + </p> + <p> + From this familiar experience, then, let us realize that the stream of + life does not stop, nor are we left stationary, but carried with it; + though our condition may appear unchanged, until we lift up our eyes, and + look for the old landmarks. The brevity of our life! my friends. Amid our + daily business,—in the sounding tumult of the great mart, and the + absorption of our thoughts,—do we think of it? Do we perceive how + nearly we approach a goal which a little while ago seemed far before us? + Do we observe how quickly we shoot by it? Do we mark with what increasing + swiftness the line of our life seems reeling off, and how close we are + coming to the end? Time never stops! Each tick of the clock echoes our + advancing footsteps. The shadow of the dial falls upon it a shorter and + shorter tract, which we have yet to pass over. Even if a long life lies + before us, let us consider that thirty-five years is high noon with us,—the + meridian of that arc which comprehends but threescore years and ten! + </p> + <p> + But we may be more vividly impressed with the fact of the brevity of life, + if we adopt some criterion wider than these familiar measurements. The + narrative, the story, engages our ears, in the pauses of care and labor. + We listen to it in the noonday rest, and around the evening fire. It is a + slight break in the monotony of our business,—an interlude in the + solemn march of life. And thus, in some respects, is life itself. It is + so, if we take into view a long series of existence, such as the + succession of human generations, or, still more, the periods of creative + development, and the computations of time as applied to the forms and + changes of the material universe. In this vast train of being, our + individual existence, however important to ourselves, is but an + interlude-a tale. Let us, then, for a while, lay aside any conventional + method of estimating our life,—a method in which that life fills a + large space, simply because it is brought near to the eye,—and let + us endeavor to take a view of it, as it were, from the fixed stars, or + from the elevation of the immortal state. + </p> + <p> + Compare, then, if you will, this life of yours or mine, not with the + personal standard of threescore years and ten, but with the whole course + of human history; and instantly we appear but as bubbles in the stream of + ages. But, again, consider how history itself is as "a tale that is told;" + and then, indeed, what a mere incident in it all is your life and mine! If + we stand off at the distance of a few centuries, so that we have no + present interest in them, it is strange how the proudest empires assume an + empty and spectral aspect. Their growth and decline occupied ages; but + what a brief achievement it appears now! Why puzzle ourselves about their + origin, or seek to disengage the true from the fabulous in their history? + Why strain laboriously to settle names, and dates, and dynasties? What + mere point they have occupied in the processes of the great universe! + Their hieroglyphic pillars, their gray old pyramids;—what are they + to the age of Uranus, or the new planet? Each of these empires fulfilled + its mission, and relatively that mission was a great one; but in the long + sweep of God's providence, and among the phenomena of absolute being, what + a brief link, a subordinate climax, it was! The huge ribs of the earth, + and the coral islands of the sea were longer in building; and even these + are transitory manifestations of God's purposes, which stream around us + through constant change and succession. And what, then, are these + nations-these epochs of humanity-but waves rising and breaking on the + great sea of eternity? Mysterious Egypt, haughty Assyria, glorious Greece, + kingly Rome;—how spectral they have become. They stand out in no + relief. As we recede from them, they sink back, flat and inanimate on the + horizon. Each is a tale that has been told. Surely, then, if such is the + life of nations, I need not labor to impress upon you a sense of the + brevity of our individual existence. + </p> + <p> + But, for a moment, turn your thoughts to estimates that far exceed the + periods of history, and confound all our ordinary measurements. What is + our mortal existence, into which we crowd so much interest,—over the + anticipated length of which we slumber,—into whose uncertain future + we project our lithe plans so confidently,—compared to the age of + the heavens,—the lifetime of worlds?—compared to their march, + from the moment when they obeyed the creative fiat to that when they shall + complete their great cycle? It takes three years for light to travel from + the nearest fixed star to the earth; from another it takes twelve years; + while, on its journey from a star of the twelfth magnitude, twenty four + billions of miles away, it consumes four thousand years. And yet we speak + of long life! Why, when the light that wraps us now shall be changed for + the light that is just leaping from that distant star, where in the gray + bosom of the past shall we be? Sunken, forgotten, crumbled to + imperceptible atoms; the ashes of generations-the dust of empires-heaped + over us! And when we compare those wide estimates to that divine eternity + that evolves and limits all things, how does our individual existence on + the earth dwindle and vanish!—a heart-throb in the pulses of the + universal life,—a quivering leaf in the forest of being,—"a + tale that is told"! + </p> + <p> + And yet, my friends, our realization of existence is so intense,—the + horizon of the present shuts us in so completely,—that it really + requires an effort for us to pause and remember that we are such + transitory beings. It cannot be (we may unconsciously reason), that we to + whom this earth is bound with ligaments so intimate and strong; whose + breathing and motion-whose contact and action here-are such realities; + whose ears hear these varying sounds of life; whose eyes drink in this + perpetual and changing beauty; to whom business, study, friendship, + pleasure, domestic relations, are such fresh and constant facts; to whom + the dawn and the twilight, the nightly slumber and the daily meal, are + such regular experiences; to whom our possessions, our houses, lands, + goods, money, are such substantial things;—it cannot be that we are + not fixed permanently here,—that the years like a swift river, sweep + us nearer and nearer to a point where we must sink and leave it all,—that + the corridors of the earth echo our footsteps only as the footsteps of a + successive march-myriads going before, and myriads coming after us-and + soon they will catch no more murmurs of our individual life; for that will + be as "a tale that is told." + </p> + <p> + The whole train of thought I am now pursuing strikes us with peculiar + force, in reading the biographies of men who have lived intensely, who + have realized the fulness of life, who have mingled intimately with its + varied experiences, and occupied a large place in it. We see how to them + life was, as it is to us, an absorbing fact,—how they have planned, + and thought, and acted, as though they were to live forever; and yet we + have noticed the premonitions of change, the dropping away of friends, the + failing of vigor, the deepening of melancholy shadows, and the coming of + the end; the business closed, the active curiosity and intermeddling + ceased, the familiar haunts abandoned, the home made desolate, the lights + put out, the cup fallen beneath the festal board, and all the earnest + existence stopped forever. And this, too, so quick,—filling so small + a space in absolute time! From their illustration let us, then, realize + that our life, too, amid all these real conditions, is unfolding rapidly + to an end, and is "as a tale that is told." + </p> + <p> + But life is like a tale that is told, because of its comprehensiveness. It + is a common characteristic of a narrative that it contains a great deal in + a small compass. It includes many years, and expresses many results. + Sometimes it sweeps over different lands, and exhibits the peculiarities + of various personages. In one word, it is characterized by + comprehensiveness. And this, I repeat, is also a characteristic of human + life. When the consideration of the brevity of our mortal existence + excites us to diligence it is well; but when we make it an argument for + indolence, disgust, and despair, we should be reminded of the fact I am + now endeavoring to illustrate,—the fact that even the briefest life + contains a great deal, and means a great deal; and that, if we estimate + things by a spiritual standard, a man's earthly being may contain more + than all the cycles of the material world. From the best point of view, + life is not merely a term of years and a span of action; it is a force, a + current and depth of being. Indeed, considered in its most literal sense, + as the vital spark of our animal organism, it is something more than a + measurement of time;—it is a mysterious, informing essence. No man + has yet been able to tell us what it is, where it resides, or how it acts. + We only know that when we gaze upon the features of the dead we see there + the same organs that pertained to the living; but something has gone,—something + of light, power, motion; and that something we call life. + </p> + <p> + But it is chiefly in a moral sense that I make the remark that life is + something more than a term of years or a span of action. In fact, life is + a sum of spiritual experiences; and thus one act, or result, often + contains more than a century of time. Who does not understand the fact to + which I now refer? Who has not felt something of it? Has not each one of + us, at times, realized that he lived a year in a single day,—in a + moment,—in an emotion or thought? Nay, could that experience be + measured by any estimate of time? And if we should compute the length of + any life by such experiences, and not by a succession of years, would it + not be a long life? At least, would it not be a full and immeasurable + life? + </p> + <p> + But, while every man's history will furnish instances of what I mean, let + us, for the sake of clearer illustration, consider some of the experiences + which are common to all. Defining life to be depth and intensity of being, + then,—a current of spiritual power, and not a mere succession of + incidents,—how much we live when we acquire the knowledge of a + single truth! What an inexhaustible power!—what an immeasurable + experience it is! We are made absolutely stronger by it; we receive more + life with it,—a new and imperishable fibre of being. Fortune cannot + pluck it from us, age cannot weaken it, death cannot set limits to it. And + now, with the fulness of this one experience as a test, just consider our + whole mortal experience as filled up with such revelations of truth. + Suppose we improve all our opportunities; into what boundless life does + education admit us, and the discoveries of every day, and the ordinary + lessons of the world! Tell me, is this life to be called merely a brief + and worthless fact, when by a little reading, for instance, I can make the + experience of other men, and lands, and ages, all mine? When in some + favored hour, I can climb the starry galaxy with Newton, and pace along + the celestial coast to the great harmony of numbers and unlock the mighty + secret of the universe? When of a winter's night, I can pass through all + the belts of climate, and all the grades of civilization on our globe; + scan its motley races, learn its diverse customs, and hear the groaning of + lonely ice-fields and the sigh of Indian palms? When, with Bacon, I can + explore the laboratory of nature, or with Locke, consult the mysteries of + the soul? When Spenser can lead me into golden visions, or Shakespeare + smite me with magic inspiration, or Milton bathe me in immortal song? When + History opens for me all the gates of the past,—Thebes and Palmyra, + Corinth and Carthage, Athens with its peerless glory, and Rome with its + majestic pomp?—when kings and statesmen, authors and priests, with + their public deeds and secret thoughts are mine? When the plans of + cabinets, and the debates of parliaments, and the course of revolutions, + and the results of battle, are all before my eyes and in my mind? When I + can enter the inner chamber of sainted souls, and conspire with the + efforts of moral heroes, and understand the sufferings of martyrs? Say, + when all these deep experiences-these comprehensive truths-may be acquired + through merely one privilege, is life but a dream, or a breath of air? + Thus, too, do immeasurable experiences flow in to me from nature,—from + planet, flower, and ocean. Thus, too, does more life come to me from + contacts in the common round of action. And, I repeat, every truth thus + gained expands a moment of time into illimitable being,—positively + enlarges my existence, and endows me with a quality which time cannot + weaken or destroy. + </p> + <p> + Consider, again, how much we really live in cherishing good affections, + and in performing noble deeds. We have the familiar lines of the poet, to + this point: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "One self-approving hour whole years outweighs + Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas." +</pre> + <p> + It is true. There is more life in one "self-approving hour,"-one act of + benevolence,—one work of self-discipline,—than in threescore + years and ten of mere sensual existence. Go out among the homes of the + poor, lift up the disconsolate, administer comfort to the forlorn; in some + way, as it may come across your path, or lie in the sphere of your duty, + do a deed of kindness; and in that one act you shall live more than in a + year of selfish indulgence and indolent ease,—yea, more than in a + lifetime of such. The poet, with his burning, immortal lines, while doing + his work, lives all the coming ages of his fame. From every marble feature + he chisels, the sculptor draws an intensity of being that cannot be + imparted by a mere extension of years. The philanthropist, in his walks of + mercy and his ministrations of love, lives more comprehensively than + another may in a century. His is the fathomless bliss of benevolence,—the + experience of God. The martyr, in his dying hour, with his face shining + like an angel's, does not live longer, but he lives more than all his + persecutors. + </p> + <p> + Consider, too, the experiences of religion, of worship, of prayer. In the + act of communion with God, in the realization of immortality, in the + aspirations and the idea of perfection, there is a depth and scope of + being from which all sensual estimates of time drop away. + </p> + <p> + Our mortal life, then, is very comprehensive. If we measure it, not by its + length of years, but by its spiritual results, be they good or evil, it is + a full and large life. It then appears, like the immortal state, not as a + fact of succession, but of experience. Christ has defined eternal life as + such a fact. "Eternal life," he says, "is to know thee, the only true God, + and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent." The life of the blessed in heaven + is not marked by years and cycles; it is not so much protracted being, as + a power of knowledge,—a depth of glad and holy consciousness,—a + constant pulsation of harmony with God. + </p> + <p> + Again, every life may be compared to "a tale that is told," because it has + a plot. In the narrative there is a combination of agencies working to a + crisis. There is a main-point with which all the action is involved. And + so every human life has its main-point.. I will not now take up time to + carry out this illustration minutely. The mere suggestion that each one is + working out a peculiar destiny invests even the meanest life with a solemn + dignity, and counteracts any disparaging argument drawn from its brevity. + </p> + <p> + But still I would urge, that the propriety of this comparison between the + peculiar tendency of an individual life and the plot of a story, is seen + in the fact that every man is accomplishing a certain moral result in and + for himself. This is inevitable. We may be inactive, but that result is + forming; the mould of habit is growing, and the inward life is unfolding + itself, after its kind. We may think our career is aimless, but all things + give a shape to our character. And does not this consideration make our + mortal life of deep consequence to us? + </p> + <p> + All circumstances and experiences are chiefly important as affecting this + result. One of the highest views we can take of the universe is that of a + theatre for the soul's education. We are placed upon this earth not to be + absorbed by it, but to use it for the highest spiritual occasions. We are + placed among the joys and sorrows of our daily lives to be trained for + immortal issues. Our business, our domestic duties, and all our various + relations, constitute a school for our souls. Here our affections and our + powers are acted upon for good or for evil. Grief strengthens our faith + and elevates our thoughts; joy quickens our gratitude, our obedience, and + our trust; temptation forms in us an exalted and spontaneous virtue, or + enfeebles and enslaves us. Chiefly, then, should we be solicitous about + character, the plot of our life; and in this solicitude our earthly + existence rises to the highest importance. + </p> + <p> + Let us, then, feel that our mortal career is not vague and aimless. Let us + realize that each life is a special history. The poorest, the most + obscure, has such a history; and although it may be unnoticed by men, + angels regard it with interest. The merchant, every day, in the dust, and + heat, and busy maze of traffic, unfolds a history. The beggar by the + way-side, it may be, outrivals kings in the grandeur and magnitude of his + history. In sainted homes,—in narrow nooks of life,—in the + secret heart of love, and prayer, and patience,—many a tale is told + which God alone sees, and which he approves. The needy tell a tale, in + their unrelieved wants and unpitied sufferings. The oppressed tell a tale, + that goes up into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth. The vicious tell a tale + of wo, and misspent opportunity, and wasted power. Let us think of it, I + beseech you! Each one of us in his sphere of action is developing a plot + which surely tells in character,—which is fast running into a great + fixed fact. + </p> + <p> + Once more, we may compare every life to "a tale that is told," because it + has a moral. Any story, good or bad,—the most pernicious work of + fiction, the most flimsy narrative, as the grandest history,—has its + significance. So it is with the life of a man. As all his conduct he is + building up the intrinsic results of character for himself,—establishing + in his own soul a fabric of welfare or of wo,—so is he furnishing a + lesson for others, and accomplishing an end by which they are affected. + The purpose for which any one has lived, the point which he has attained, + the personal history which he has unfolded, constitute the moral of his + life. + </p> + <p> + For instance, here is a man whose life is frivolous,—divided between + aimless cares and superficial enjoyments. He has no resources in himself, + no fountain of inward peace and joy. His spirit leaps like new wine in the + whirl of exciting pleasure, but in the hour of solitude and of golden + opportunity, it is "flat, stale, and unprofitable." He marks off the year + by its festivals, and distributes the day into hours of food, rest, and + folly. In short, he holds no serious conception of life, and he is + untouched by lofty sentiment. The great drama of existence, with its + solemn shifts of scenery and its impending grandeur, is but a pantomime to + him; and he a thoughtless epicurean, a grinning courtier, a scented fop, a + dancing puppet, on the mighty stage. And surely, such a life, a life of + superficiality and heartlessness, a life of silken niceties and + conventional masquerade, a life of sparkling effervescence, has a moral. + It shows us how vain is human existence when empty of serious thought, of + moral purpose, and of devout emotion. + </p> + <p> + Another is a skeptic. He has no genuine faith in immortality, in virtue, + or in God. To him, life is a sensual opportunity closing up with + annihilation and to be enjoyed as it may. It is a mere game, and he who + plays the most skilful(sic) hand will win. Virtue is a smooth decency, + which it is well to assume in order to cover and artful selfishness; and + it is a noteworthy fact, too, that, in the long run, those who have + trusted to virtue have made by it. At least, vice is inexpedient, and it + will not do to make a public profession of it. Religion, too, he says, is + well enough; it does for the weak and the ignorant; though shrewd men, + like our skeptic know that it is all a sham, and, of course, scarce give + it a serious thought. What is religion to a keen-minded, hard-headed, + sagacious man of the world? What has it to do with business, and politics, + and such practical matters? Pack it away for Sunday, and then put it on + with clean clothes, out of respect for the world; but if it lifts any + remonstrance in the caucus or the counting-room, why, like a shrewd man, + laugh it out of countenance. What has our skeptic to do with the future + world or with spiritual relations? Keep bugbears to frighten more timid + and credulous persons. But only see how he uses the world, and plays his + scheme, and foils his adversary and twists and bends his plastic morality, + all because he is not troubled with scruples, and has no faith in God or + duty! + </p> + <p> + And yet, to the serious eye, that scans his spiritual mood, and looks all + around his shrewd, self-confident position, there is a great moral in the + skeptic's life. It teaches us, more than ever, the value of faith, and the + glory of religion. That flat negation only makes the rejected truth more + positive. The specimen of what existence is without God in the world, + causes us to yearn more earnestly for the shelter of His presence, and the + blessedness of His control. From the dark perspective of the skeptic's + sensual view, the bleak annihilation that bounds all his hopes, we turn + more gladly to the auroral promise of immortality, to the consolations and + influences of a life beyond the grave. Yes, in that tale that is told, in + that skeptic history, there is indeed a great moral. It shows how + meaningless and how mean, how treacherous and false, is that man's life + who hangs upon the balance of a cunning egotism, and moves only from the + impulses of selfish desire-without religion, without virtue, repudiating + the idea of morality, and practically living without God. + </p> + <p> + Or, on the other hand, suppose we call up the image of one who has well + kept the trusts of family, and kindred, and friendship;—one who has + made home a pleasant place; who has filled it with the sanctities of + affection, and adorned it with a graceful and generous hospitality;—before + whose cheerful temper the perplexities of business have been smoothed, and + whose genial disposition has melted even the stern and selfish;—who, + thus rendering life around her happier and better, attracting more closely + the hearts of relatives, and making every acquaintance a friend, has, + chief of all, beautifully discharged the sacred offices of wife and + mother; encountering the day of adversity with a noble self-devotion, + enriching the hour of prosperity with wise counsel and faithful love; + unwearied in the time of sickness, patient and trustful beneath the + dispensation of affliction; in short, by her many virtues and graces + evidently the bright centre of a happy household. And now suppose that, + with all these associations clinging to her, in the bloom of life, with + opportunities for usefulness and enjoyment opening all around her, death + interferes, and suddenly quenches that light! Is there not left a moral + which abides a sweet and lasting consolation? That moral is-the power of a + kind heart; the worth of domestic virtues; the living freshness of a + memory in which these qualities are combined. + </p> + <p> + Thus, then, in its brevity and its comprehensiveness, with its plot and + its moral, we see that each human life is like "a tale that is told." To + you, my friends, I leave the personal application of these truths. Surely + they suggest to each of us the most vital and solemn considerations. + Surely they call us to diligence and repentance,—to introspection + and prayer. What we are in ourselves,—what use we shall make of + life;—is not this an all important subject? What lesson we shall + furnish for others,—what influence for good or evil;—can we be + indifferent to that? God give us grace and strength to ponder and to act + upon these suggestions! + </p> + <p> + Finally, remember under whose dominion all the sorrows and changes of + earth take place. Let your faith in Him be firm and clear. To Him address + your grief;—to Him lift up your prayer. Of Him seek strength and + consolation;—of Him ask that a holy influence may attend every + experience. And while all the trials of life should quicken us to a + loftier diligence, and inspire us with a keener sense of personal + responsibility, surely when our hearts are sore and bleeding,—when + our hopes lie prostrate, and we are faint and troubled, it is good to rise + to the contemplation of the Infinite Controller,—to lean back upon + the Almighty Goodness that upholds the universe; to realize that He does + verily watch over us, and care for us; to feel that around and above all + things else He moves the vast circle of his purpose, and carries within it + all our joys and sorrows; and that this mysterious tale of human life-this + tangled plot of our earthly being-is unfolded beneath His all-beholding + eye, and by His omnipotent and paternal hand. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE CHRISTIAN VIEW OF SORROW + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "A man of sorrow, and acquainted with grief" Is. Iii. 3. +</pre> + <p> + There is one great distinction between the productions of Heathen and of + Christian art. While the first exhibits the perfection of physical form + and of intellectual beauty, the latter expresses, also, the majesty of + sorrow, the grandeur of endurance, the idea of triumph refined from agony. + In all those shapes of old there is nothing like the glory of the martyr; + the sublimity of patience and resignation; the dignity of the + thorn-crowned Jesus. + </p> + <p> + It is easy to account for this. In that heathen age the soul had received + no higher inspiration. It was only after the advent of Christ that men + realized the greatness of sorrow and endurance. It was not until the + history of the Garden, the Judgment-Hall, and the Cross had been + developed, that genius caught nobler conceptions of the beautiful. This + fact is, therefore, a powerful witness to the prophecy in the text, and to + the truth of Christianity. Christ's personality, as delineated in the + Gospels, is not only demonstrated by a change of dynasties,—an + entire new movement in the world,—a breaking up of the its ancient + order; but the moral ideal which now leads human action,—which has + wrought this enthusiasm, and propelled man thus strangely forward,—has + entered the subjective realities of the soul,—breathed new + inspiration upon it,—opened up to it a new conception; and, lo! The + statue dilates with a diviner expression;—lo! The picture wears a + more lustrous and spiritual beauty. + </p> + <p> + The Christ of the text, then,—"A man of sorrows, and acquainted with + grief,"-has verily lived, for his image has been reflected in the minds of + men, and has fastened itself there among their most intimate and vivid + conceptions. Sorrow, as illustrated in Christ's life, and as interpreted + in his scheme of religion, has assumed a new aspect and yields a new + meaning. Its garments of heaviness have become transfigured to robes of + light, its crown of thorns to a diadem of glory; and often, for some one + whom the rich and joyful of this world pity,—some suffering, + struggling, over-shadowed soul,—there comes a voice from heaven, + "This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased." + </p> + <p> + I remark, however, that Christianity does not accomplish this result by + denying the character of sorrow. It does not refuse to render homage to + grief. The stoic is as far from its ideal of virtue as the epicurean. The + heart of the true saint quivers at pain, and his eyes are filled with + tears. Whatever mortifications he may deem necessary as to the passions of + this poor flesh, if he imitates the example of Christ he cannot deny those + better affections which link us even to God; he cannot harden those + sensitive fibres which are the springs of our best action,—which if + callus we become inhuman. He realizes pain; he recognises sorrow as + sorrow. Its cup is bitter, and to be resisted with prayer. + </p> + <p> + There is nothing more wonderful in the history of Jesus than his keen + sense of sorrow, and the scope which he allows it. In the tenderness of + his compassion he soothed the overflowing spirit, but he never rebuked its + tears. On the contrary, in a most memorable instance, he recognized its + right to grieve. It was on the way to his own crucifixion, when crowned + with insult, and lacerated with his own sorrows. "Daughters of Jerusalem," + said he, to the sympathizing women, "weep not for me, but weep for + yourselves and for your children." As though he had said, "You have a + right to weep; weep, then, in that great catastrophe which is coming, when + barbed affliction shall pierce your hearts, and the dearest ties shall be + cut in sunder. Those ties are tender; those hearts are sacred. Therefore, + weep!" + </p> + <p> + But Christ did more than sanction tears in others. He wept himself. + Closest in our consciousness, because they will be most vivid to us in our + darkest and our last hours, are those incidents by the grave of Lazarus, + and over against Jerusalem; the sadness of Gethsemane, and the divine + pathos of the last supper. Never can we fully realize what a tribute to + sorrow is rendered by the tears of Jesus, and the dignity which has + descended upon those who mourn, because he had not where to lay his head, + was despised and rejected of men, and cried out in bitter agony from the + cross. He could not have been our exemplar by despising sorrow-by treating + it with contempt; but only by shrinking from its pain, and becoming + intimate with its anguish,—only as "a man of sorrows, and acquainted + with grief." + </p> + <p> + But, on the other hand, Christianity does not over-estimate sorrow. While + it pronounces a benediction upon the mourner, it does not declare it best + that man should always mourn. It would not have us deny the good that is + in the universe. Nay, I apprehend that sorrow itself is a testimony to + that good,—is the anguish and shrinking of the severed ties that + have bound us to it; that it clings closest in hearts of the widest and + most various sympathies; that only souls which have loved much and enjoyed + much can feel its intensity or know its discipline. In the language of + another, "Sorrow is not an independent state of mind, standing unconnected + with all others...It is the effect, and, under the present conditions of + our being, the inevitable effect, of strong affections. Nay, it is not so + much their result, as a certain attitude of those affections themselves. + It not simply flows from the love of excellence, of wisdom, of sympathy, + but it is that very love, when conscious that excellence, that wisdom, + that sympathy have departed." They, then, who deem it necessary for man's + spiritual welfare that he should constantly feel the pressure of + chastisement, and be engirt with the mist of tears, do not reason well. + Jeremy Taylor reasons thus, when he says in allusion to certain lamps + which burned for many ages in a tomb, but which expired when brought into + open day: "So long as we are in the retirements of sorrow, of want, of + fear, of sickness, we are burning and shining lamps; but when God lifts us + up from the gates of death and carries us abroad into the open air, to + converse with prosperity and temptations, we go out in darkness; and we + cannot be preserved in light and heat but by still dwelling in the regions + of sorrow." "There is beauty, and, to a certain extent, truth in this + figure," says a writer, in reply; "but it by no means follows that + continuous suffering would be good for man; on the contrary, it would be + as remote from producing the perfection of our moral nature as unmitigated + prosperity. It would be apt to produce a morbid and ghastly piety; the + 'bright lamps' of which Taylor speaks would still be irradiating only a + tomb." (Edinburgh Review No 141 The article on Pascal) We may doubt + whether there is more essential religiousness in this seeking of sorrow as + a mortification,—in this monastic self-laceration and exclusion,—than + in the morbid misery of the hypochondriac. Neither comprehends the whole + of life, nor is adapted to its realities. Christ was "a man of sorrows and + acquainted with grief;" but he was also full of sympathy with all good, + and enjoyed the charm of friendship, and the light of existence. Around + that great Life gather many amenities. Below that face of agony beats a + heart familiar with the best affections of human nature; otherwise, we may + believe, the agony would not appear. The sadness of that last supper + indicates the breaking up of many joyful communions and the history which + closes in the shadow of the cross mingles with the festival of Cana, and + lingers around the home at Bethany. + </p> + <p> + But I remark, once more, that while Christianity neither despises nor + affects to desire sorrow, it clearly recognizes its great and beneficial + mission. In one word, it shows its disciplinary character, and thus + practically interprets the mystery of evil. It regards man as a spiritual + being, thrown upon the theatre of this mortal life not merely for + enjoyment, but for training,—for the development of spiritual + affinities, and the attainment of spiritual ends. It thus reveals a + weaning, subduing, elevating power, in sorrow. + </p> + <p> + The origin of evil may puzzle us;—its use no Christian can deny. A + sensual philosophy may shrink from it, in all its aspects, and retreat + into a morbid skepticism or a timid submission. If we predicate mere + happiness as "our being's end and aim," there is no explanation of evil. + From this point of view, there is an ambiguity in nature,—a duality + in every object, which we cannot solve. The throne of infinite light and + love casts over the face of creation an inexplicable shadow. If we were + made merely to be happy, why this hostility all around us? Why these sharp + oppositions of pain and difficulty? Why these writhing nerves, these + aching hearts, and over-laden eyes? Why the chill of disappointment, the + shudder of remorse, the crush and blight of hope? Why athwart the horizon + flicker so many shapes of misery and sin? Why appear these sad spectacles + of painful dying chambers, and weary sick-beds?—these countless + tomb-stones, too-ghastly witness to death and tears? Explain for me those + abrupt inequalities,—the long train of necessities, poverty and its + kindred woes, those fearful realities that lie in the abysses of every + city,—that hideous, compressed mass which welters in the awful + baptism of sensuality and ignorance,—the groans of inarticulate woe, + the spectacle of oppression, the shameless cruelty of war, the pestilence + that shakes its comet-sword over nations, and famine that peers with + skeleton face through the corn-sheaves of plenty. Upon this theory of mere + happiness no metaphysical subtlety can solve the fact of evil;—the + coiled enigma constantly returns upon itself, inexplicable as ever. + </p> + <p> + But when we take the Christian view of life, we discover that not + happiness merely, but virtue, holiness, is the great end of man; though + happiness comes in as an inevitable consequence and accompaniment of this + result. And in the light reflected from this view, evil assumes a + powerful, and, I may say, a most beautiful office. It is just as necessary + for the attainment of virtue as prosperity, or any blessing. Nay, in this + aspect, it is itself a great blessing, and + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Every cloud that spreads above + And veileth love, itself is love." +</pre> + <p> + It is evident that, without the contact of sin and the pressure of + temptation, there might be innocence, but not virtue. Equally evident does + it seem that, without an acquaintance with grief, there would soon be but + little of that uplifting tendency-that softening of the heart, and + sanctifying of the affections-which fit us for the dissolution of our + earthly ties, and for the communions of the spirit world. Beautiful is + this weaning efficacy of sorrow. By the ordinance of God, youth is made to + be content with this outward and palpable life. The sunshine and the + air-the flow of animal pleasures, encircled mysteriously with the + guardianship of parents, and the love of friends-are sufficient for the + child. But as we grow in years, there springs up a dissatisfaction, a + restlessness, of which we may be only half conscious, and still less know + how to cure. With some, this may subside into merely a fearful and worldly + discontent; others may heed the prophecy and lay hold on a celestial hope, + an immortal possession as the only remedy. In this secret sense of want, + which neither nature nor man can fill they will hear already that low, + divine voice,—"Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, + and I will give you rest." But generally another and more emphatic + missionary is necessary. It is the veiled angel of sorrow, who plucks away + one thing and another that bound us here in ease and security, and in the + vanishing of these dear objects indicates the true home of our affections + and our peace. Thus, by rupture and loss we become weaned from earth, and + the dissatisfaction and discontent which sorrow thus induces are as kind + and providential as the carelessness of youth. + </p> + <p> + Who does not see that it is so,—that as we journey on in life there + are made in our behalf preparations for another state of being,—unmistakable + premonitions of that fact which the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews + so eloquently states, that "here have we no continuing city"? The gloss of + objects in which we delighted is worn off by attrition,—is sicklied + o'er by care; the vanity of earthly things startles us suddenly, like a + new truth; the friends we love drop away from our side into silence; + desire fails; the grasshopper becomes a burden; until, at length, we feel + that our only love is not here below,—until these tendrils of earth + aspire to a better climate, and the weight that has been laid upon us + makes us stoop wearily to the grave as a rest and a deliverance. We have, + even through our tears, admired that discipline which sometimes prepares + the young to die; which, by sharp trials of anguish, and long days of + weariness, weans them from that keen sense of mortal enjoyment which is so + naturally theirs; which, through the attenuation of the body, illuminates + the soul, and, as it steals the bloom from the cheek, kindles the lustre + of faith in the eye, and makes even that young spirit look, unfaltering, + across the dark river, and, putting aside its earthly loves and its + reasonable expectations, exclaim, "Now I am ready!" But it would appear + that equal preparation, though in different forms, is provided for most of + us, in the various experiences of sorrow which we are called upon to know, + and which, if we would but heed them, have a celestial mission, seeking to + draw us up from this lower state, to induce us to lay up our treasure + where neither moth nor rust corrupts. And in the Christian view of man as + an heir of the spiritual word, does not sorrow, in this its weaning + tendency, receive a most beautiful explanation? + </p> + <p> + And, because it accomplishes this work, may be the reason why sorrow + always wears a kind of supernatural character. It is true that blessings, + equally with afflictions, come from Heaven; but this truth is not so + generally felt. A sharp disappointment will suddenly drive us to God. The + mariner of life sails, unthinking, over its prosperous seas, but a flaw of + storm will bring him to his prayers. And religion, reason as we will, is + peculiarly associated with affliction. And does not sorrow possess this + supernatural air, not merely because it interrupts the usual order of + things, but because, more than joy, it has a weaning and spiritual + tendency,—is sent, as it were, more directly from God for this + specific purpose? At least, after the sanctifying experience of sorrow, we + hold our joys more religiously. + </p> + <p> + There are other tendencies of sorrow akin to this, upon which I might + dwell, and which show the explanation that it receives in the Christian + light. The humbling effect that it has upon the proud and hard-hearted; + the equalizing result which it works, making the rich and poor, the + obscure and the great, stand upon the level of the common humanity,—the + common liability and dependence. I might, expanding the topic already + touched upon, speak of the influence which sorrow sheds abroad, chastening + the light, at tempering the draught of joy, and thus keeping our hearts + better balanced than otherwise. But I have sufficiently illustrated its + mission. I have shown its use, even its beauty, in the Christian view. I + have shown why Christianity, as the universal religion, is rightly styled + the "religion of sorrow," and why Christ, as the perfect teacher and + example, was "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." + </p> + <p> + Let us all, then, recognize the fact that life itself is a discipline. + That for each of us sorrow is mingled with joy in order that this + discipline may be accomplished. No one reaches the noon of life without + some grief, some disappointment, some sharp trial, which assures him, if + he will but heed it, that life is already declining, and that his spirit + should train itself for a higher and more permanent state. In the failure + of mortal excellence let him recognize the proof of an immortal good, and + from the bitterness that mingles with these earthly waters, turn to drink + of the celestial fountain. Of all things, let us not receive sorrow + indifferently, or without reflection. Its mission is for discipline, but + we feel it to be discipline only by recognizing its source and its + meaning; "it yieldeth the peaceable fruits of righteousness" only "to them + that are exercised thereby." Otherwise, it may come and go as the storm + that rends the oak, or the drenching tempest that glides off as it falls. + It may startle us for a moment,—it may hurt us with a sense of pain + and loss,—it may awe us with its mystery; but unless it rouses us to + solemn thought upon the meaning of life, to self-communion and prayer, to + higher and holier action, it availeth little. It should not smite the + heart's chords to wring from them a mere shriek of distress, but to + inspire it with a deeper and more elevated tone, and by the element of + sadness which it infuses make a more liquid and exquisite melody. + </p> + <p> + But while we are thus taught to chasten our views of life, and to hold + even our joys with seriousness, and with wise forethought, let us not look + upon things with any morbid vision, or cast over them a monotonous hue. + Let us not live in gloom and bitterness. The Christian, of all others, is + the best fitted for a cheerful and proper enjoyment of life, because he + wisely recognizes the use of things, understands their evanescent nature, + and sees the infinite goodness that has so ordained it. He is not + surprised by sudden terrors. He is prepared for sorrow, and thus can rest + in peace with the good that he has; while those who bury heart and soul in + the present enjoyment, and know nothing but sensual good, are broken down + by calamity. The sudden change, like a thunder-gust, puts out their light, + and darkens all their life; and it is they who are apt to fall from the + summit of delight into a morbid gloom; while the Christian, with his + balanced soul, inhabits neither extreme. + </p> + <p> + Finally, let us remember that it is not the object of sorrow to overcome, + but to elevate; not to conquer us, but that we, by it, should conquer. It + converts the thorns that wound us into a crown. It makes us strong by the + baptism of tears. The saint is always a hero. This explains that grand + distinction between Heathen and Christian art, of which I spoke in the + commencement; that expression of power blended with agony,—of + celestial beatitude refining itself upon the face of grief. Christianity + has made martyrdom sublime, and sorrow triumphant. Christ is "the Captain + of our salvation,"-the leader of "many sons unto glory;" for he was "a man + of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHRISTIAN CONSOLATION IN LONELINESS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "And yet I am not alone, because the Father is with me." + John xvi.32. +</pre> + <p> + These words are found in the farewell address of Jesus to his disciples. + They were uttered in the dark hour of coming agony, and in the face of + ignominious death. Because Christ was divinely empowered, and possessed + the spirit without measure, let us not suppose that to him there was no + pain or sorrow, in that great crisis. With all his supernatural dignity, + he appears to us far more attractive when we consider him as impressible + by circumstances,—as moved by human sympathies. He is thus not + merely a teacher, but a pattern for us. In all our trials he not only + enables us to endure and to triumph, but draws us close to himself by the + affinity of his own experience. We see, too, how the best men, men of the + clearest faith, may still look upon death with a shudder, and shrink from + the dark and narrow valley; not because they fear death as such, but + because of the agony of dissolution, the rupture of all familiar ties, and + the solemn mystery of the last change. + </p> + <p> + But death and suffering, as Jesus was now to meet them, appeared in no + ordinary forms. He was to bear affliction with no friendly consolations + around him; but alone!—alone in the wrestling of the garden, and + amid the cruel mockery. Not upon the peaceful death-bed, but upon the bare + and rugged cross, torn by nails, pierced with the spear, crowned with + thorns, taunted by the revilings of the multitude, the vinegar and the + gall. He must be deserted, and encounter these trials alone. He must be + rejected, betrayed, crucified alone. And as he spoke to his disciples + those words of affection and holiness-those words so full of counsel and + sublime consolation-he remembered all this; he remembered that they who + now clung to him, and listened in sorrow to his parting accents, would + soon be scattered as sheep without a shepherd, and leave him to himself in + all that shame and agony. But even as he foretold it there gleamed upon + his spirit the sunshine of an inner consciousness,—a comfort that no + cloud could darken; and instantly he added, "And yet I am not alone, + because the Father is with me." + </p> + <p> + Having thus considered the circumstances in which these words were spoken, + I now proceed to draw from them a few reflections. + </p> + <p> + I would say, then, in the first place, that the great test which proves + the excellence of the religion of Christ is its adaptation to man in + solitude,—to man as a solitary being; because it is then that he is + thrown upon the resources of his own soul,—upon his inner and + everlasting life. In society he finds innumerable objects to attract his + attention and to absorb his affections. The ordinary cares of every day, + the pursuit of his favorite scheme, the converse of friends, the exciting + topics of the season, the hours of recreation, all fill up his time, and + occupy his mind with matters external to himself. And looking upon him + merely in these relations, if we could forget its great social bearings, + and the harmonies which flow from its all-pervading spirit out into every + condition of life, we might, perhaps, say that man could get along well + enough without religion. If this world were made up merely of business and + pleasure, perhaps the atheist's theory would suffice, and we might feel + indifferent whether controlled by plastic matter or intelligent mind. We + will admit that happiness, in one sense of the term, does not essentially + depend upon religion. Nay, we must admit this proposition. A man may be + happy without being religious. Good health, good spirits;—how many, + possessing these really enjoy life, without being devout, or religious + according to any legitimate meaning of that term. + </p> + <p> + But change the order of circumstances. Remove these external helps,—substitute + therefor sorrow, duty, the revelations of our own inner being,—and + all this gayety vanishes like the sparkles from a stream when a storm + comes up. The soul that has depended upon outward congenialities for its + happiness has no permanent principle of happiness; for that is the + distinction which religion bestows. He who cannot retire within himself, + and find his best resources there, is fitted, perhaps, for the smoother + passages of life, but poorly prepared for all life. He who cannot and dare + not turn away from these outward engrossments, and be in spiritual + solitude,—who is afraid or sickens at the idea of being alone,—has + a brittle possession in all that happiness which comes from the whirl and + surface of things. One hour may scatter it forever. And poorly, I repeat, + is he prepared for all life,—for some of the most serious and + important moments of life. These, as I shall proceed to show, we must meet + alone, and from within; and therefore, it constitutes the blessedness of + the Christian religion that it enables man when in solitude to have + communion, consolation, and guidance. In fact, it makes him, when alone, + to be not alone,—to say, with glad consciousness, "I am not alone, + because the Father is with me." + </p> + <p> + To illustrate this truth, then, I say, that so far as the communion and + help of this outward world and of human society are concerned, there are + many and important seasons when man must be alone. In the first place, in + his most interior and essential nature, man is a solitary being. He is an + individual, a unit, amid all the souls around him, and all other things,—a + being distinct and peculiar as a star. God, in all the variety of his + works, has made no man exactly like another. There is an individual + isolation, a conscious personality, which he can share with no other; + which resists the idea of absorption; which claims its own distinct + immortality; which has its own wants and woes, its own sense of duty, its + own spiritual experiences. Christianity insists upon nothing more strongly + than this. Piercing below all conventionalisms, it recognizes man as an + individual soul, and, as such, addresses him with its truths and its + sanctions. Indeed, it bases its grand doctrine of human brotherhood and + equality upon the essential individuality of each man, because each + represents all,—each has in himself the nature of every other. It + demands individual repentance, individual holiness, individual faith. One + cannot believe for another. One cannot decide questions of conscience for + another. One cannot bear the sins or appropriate the virtues of another. + It is true, we have relations to the great whole, to the world of mankind, + and to the material universe. We are linked to these by subtle affinities. + We are interwoven with them all,—bound up with them in arterial + unity and life. They have all poured their results into our souls, and + helped to form us, and do now support us; and we, in like manner, react + upon them, and upon others. This truth is a vital one, not to be + neglected. But a deeper truth than this and one upon which this depends, + is the individual peculiarity of each,—his integral distinctiveness, + without which there would be no such thing as union, or relationship; + nothing but monotony and inertia. + </p> + <p> + The great fact, then, which I would impress upon you is, that, essentially + as spiritual beings, we are alone. And I remark that there are experiences + in life when we are made to feel this deep fact; when each must deal with + his reason, his heart, his conscience, for himself; when each is to act as + if the sole-existent in the universe, realizing that he is a spirit + breathed from God, complete in himself, subject to all spiritual laws, + interested in all spiritual welfare; when no stranger soul, though it be + that of his dearest friend, can intermeddle with all that occupies him, or + share it. + </p> + <p> + Such experiences we have when reflection binds us to the past. Memory then + opens for us a volume that no eye but God's and ours can read;—memories + of neglect, of sin, of deep secrets that our hearts have hidden in their + innermost folds. Such experiences sometimes there are when we muse upon + the external universe; when we reflect upon the vastness of creation, the + littleness of human effort, the transciency of human relations; when our + souls are drawn away from all ordinary communions, and we feel that we are + drifting before an almighty will, bound to an inevitable destiny, hemmed + in by irresistible forces. Then, with every tie of association shrinking + from us; then, keeping the solitary vigil; then with cold, vast nature all + around us, we are alone. Or, there is a solitude which oppresses us even + in the heart of the great city;—a solitude more intense even than + that of naked nature; when all faces are strange to us; when no pulse of + sympathy throbs from our heart to the hearts of others when each passes us + by, engaged with his own destiny, and leaving us to fulfil ours. In this + tantalizing solitude of the crowd, in this sense of isolation from our + fellows, if never before, do we feel, with sickness of heart, that we are + alone. There is a solitude of sickness,—the solitude of the watcher + or of the patient,—a solitude to which, at times, duty and + Providence call us all. There are, in brief, countless circumstances of + life when we shall realize that we are indeed alone, and sad enough will + be that solitude if we have no inner resource,—no Celestial + companionship;—if we cannot say and feel as we say it, that we are + not alone, for the Father is with us. + </p> + <p> + But, while I cannot specify all these forms of solitude, let me dwell upon + two or three of the experiences of life in which we are peculiarly alone. + </p> + <p> + First, then, I would say, that we must be alone in the pursuit of Truth + and the work of Duty. Others may aid me in these, but I must decide and + act for myself. I must believe for myself. I must do right for myself; or + if I do wrong, it is also for myself, and in myself I realize the + retribution. By my own sense of right and wrong-by my own standard of + truth and falsehood-I must stand or fall. There is in this world nothing + so great and solemn as the struggles of the solitary soul in its + researches after the truth,—in its endeavors to obey the right. We + may be indifferent to these vital questions,—it is to be feared that + many are; we may glide along in the suppleness of habit, and the ease of + conventionalism; we may never trouble ourselves with any pungent scruples; + we may never pursue the task of introspection, or bring to bear upon the + fibres of motive and desire within us the intense focus of God's moral + law; we may never vex our souls with tests of faith, but rest contented + with the common or hereditary standard;—but he who will be serious + in the work of spiritual discipline, who will act from a vital law of + duty, must endure struggles and conflicts than which, I repeat, there is + nothing more solemn under the sun. He will often find himself opposed to + the general current of human faith and action. His position will be + singular. His principle will be tried. Interest will direct him another + way; his strictness will be ridiculed, his motives questioned, his + sincerity misunderstood and aspersed. Alone must he endure all this,—along + cling to the majestic ideal of right as it rises to his own soul. And thus + he must wage a bitter conflict with fear and with seduction,—with + sophistries of the heart, and reluctance of the will. + </p> + <p> + Often, too, must he question his own motives with a severer judgment than + that of the world, as his scrutiny is more close, and his self-knowledge + more minute. He knows the secret sin, the mental act, the spiritual + aberration. He knows the distance between his highest effort and that + lofty standard of perfection to which he has pledged his purposes. Alone, + alone does the great conflict go on within him. The struggle, the + self-denial, the pain, and the victory, are of the very essence of + martyrdom,—are the chief peculiarities in the martyr's lot. His, + too, must be the solitude of prayer, when, by throwing by all + entanglements,—in his naked individuality,—he wrestles at the + Mercy Seat, or soars to the bliss of Divine communion. In such hours,—in + every hour of self-communion,—when we ask ourselves the highest + questions respecting faith and duty, it is the deepest comfort to the + religious soul to feel and to say, "I am not alone, for the Father is with + me." + </p> + <p> + Again; there are experiences of Sorrow in which we are peculiarly alone. + How often does the soul feel this when it is suffering from the loss of + friends! Then we find no comfort in external things. Pleasure charms not; + business cannot cheat us of our grief; wealth supplies not the void; and + though the voice of friendship falls in consolation upon the ear, yet with + all these, we are alone,—alone! No other spirit can fully comprehend + our woe, or enter into our desolation. No human eye can pierce to our + sorrows; no sympathy can share them. Alone we must realize their sharp + suggestions, their painful memories, their brood of sad and solemn + thoughts. The mother bending over her dead child;—O! what solitude + is like that?—where such absolute loneliness as that which possesses + her soul, when she takes the final look of that little pale face crowned + with flowers and sleeping in its last chamber, with the silent voice of + the dead uttering its last good night? What more solitary than the spirit + of one who, like the widow of Nain, follows to the grave her only son?—of + one from whom the wife, the mother, has been taken? The mourner is in + solitude,—alone, in this peopled world;—O, how utterly alone! + Through the silent valley of tears wanders that stricken spirit, seeing + only memorials of that loss. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, sorrow of any kind is solitary. Its deepest pangs, its most solemn + visitations, are in the secrecy of the individual soul. We labor to + conceal it from others. We wear a face of unconcern or gayety amid the + multitude. Society is thronged with masked faces. Unseen burdens of woe + are carried about in its busy haunts. The man of firm step in the mart, + and of vigorous arm in the workshop, has communions in his chamber that + make him weak as a child. Nothing is more deceitful than a happy + countenance. Haggard spirits laugh over the wine-cup, and the blooming + garland of pleasure crowns an aching head. For sorrow is secret and + solitary. Each "heart knoweth its own bitterness." + </p> + <p> + How precious, then, in the loneliness of sorrow, is that faith which bids + us look up and see how near is God, and feel what divine companionship is + ours, and know what infinite sympathy engirds us,—what concern for + our good is, even in this darkness, shaping out blessings for us, and + distilling from this secret agony everlasting peace for the soul. How + precious that faith in the clear vision of which we can say, "I am not + alone, for the Father is with me." + </p> + <p> + Finally, we must experience Death alone. As I said in the commencement, + the best, the most pious soul, may naturally shrink from this great event. + We may learn to anticipate it with resignation, to look upon it with + trust; but indifference respecting it is no proof of religion. It would + be, rather, a bad sign for one to approach it without emotion; for however + his faith may penetrate beyond, the religious spirit will, with deep awe, + lift that curtain of mystery which hangs before the untried future. That + is a fact which we must encounter alone. Friends may gather around us; + their ministrations may aid, their consolations soothe us. They may be + with us to the very last; they may cling to us as though they would pluck + us back to the shores of time; their voices may fall, the last of earthly + sounds, upon our ears; their kiss awaken the last throb of consciousness; + but they cannot go with us, they cannot die in our stead; the last time + must come,—they must loosen their hold from us, and fade from our + vision, and we become wrapt in the solemn experience of death, alone! + Alone must we tread the dark valley,—alone embark for the unseen + land. No, Christian! not alone. To your soul, thus separated in blank + amazement from all familiar things, still is that vision of faith granted + that so often lighted your earthly perplexities; to you is it given, in + this most solitary hour, to say, "I am not alone for the Father is with + me!" + </p> + <p> + I repeat, then, in closing, that the test which proves the excellence of + the religion of Christ is the fact that it fits us for those solemn hours + of life when we must be alone. Mere happiness we may derive from other + sources; but this consolation not all the world can give,—the world + cannot take it away. + </p> + <p> + Let us remember, then, that though we seldom look within-though our + affections may be absorbed in external things-these solitary seasons will + come. It behoves us, therefore, as we value true peace of mind, genuine + happiness, which connects us to the throne of God with golden links of + prayer,—it behoves each to ask himself, "Dare I be alone? Am I ready + to be alone? And what report will my soul make in that hour of solitude? + If I do wrong, if I cleave to evil rather than the good, what shall I do + when I am alone, and yet not alone, but with the Father? But if I do + right, if I trust in Him, and daily walk with Him, what crown of human + honor, what store of wealth, what residuum of earthly pleasure, can + compare with the glad consciousness that wherever I rest or wander, in + every season and circumstance, in the solitary hours of life, and the + loneliness of death, God is verily with me?" + </p> + <p> + Surely no attainment is equal to that strength of Christ, by which, when + approaching the cross, he was able to say, "I am not alone, for the Father + is with me." By this strength, he was able to do more than to say and feel + thus. He was able to strengthen others,—to exclaim, "Be of good + cheer, I have overcome the world." So we, by spiritual discipline, having + learned of Christ to be thus strong, not only possess a spring of + unfailing consolation for ourselves, but there shall go out from us a + benediction and a power that shall gladden the weary and fortify the weak,—that + shall fill the solitude of many a lonely spirit with the consolations of + the Father's love, and the bliss of the Father's presence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + RESIGNATION + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink + it?" John xvii.11. +</pre> + <p> + The circumstances in which these words were uttered have, doubtless, often + arrested your attention,—have often been delineated for you by + others. Yet it is always profitable for us to recur to them. They + transpired immediately after our Saviour's farewell with his disciples. + The entire transaction in that "upper room" had been hallowed and softened + by the fact of his coming death. He saw that fact distinctly before him, + and to his eye everything was associated with it. As he took the bread and + broke it, it seemed to him an emblem of himself, pierced and dying; and + from the fulness of his spirit he spoke, "Take, eat, this is my body, + broken for you." As he took the cup and set it before them, it reminded + him of his blood, that must flow ere his mission was fulfilled, and he + could say, "It is finished." And then, when the traitor rose from that + table to go out and consummate the very purpose that should lead to that + event, as one who had arrayed himself in robes of death, and was about to + declare his legacy, he broke forth in that sublime strain commencing, "Now + is the Son of man glorified, and God is glorified in him;"-that strain of + mingled precept, and promise, and warning, and prayer, from which the + weary and the sick-hearted of all ages shall gather strength and + consolation, and which shall be read in dying chambers and houses of + mourning until death and sorrow shall reign no more. + </p> + <p> + Laden, then, with the thought of his death, he had gone with his disciples + into the garden of Gethsemane. There, in the darkness and loneliness of + night, the full anguish of his situation rushed upon his spirit. He shrank + from the rude scenes that opened before him,—from the mocker's sneer + and the ruler's scourge; from the glare of impatient revenge, and the + weeping eyes of helpless friendship; from the insignia of imposture and of + shame; and from the protracted, thirsty, torturing death. He shrank from + these,—he shrank from the rupture of tender ties,—he shrank + from the parting with deeply-loved friends,—his soul was + overburdened, his spirit was swollen to agony, and he rushed to his knees, + and prayed, "Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me." Yet + even then, in the intensity of his grief, the sentiment that lay deep and + serene below suggested the conditions, and he added, "Nevertheless, not my + will, but thine, be done." But still the painful thought oppressed him, + and, though more subdued now, he knelt and prayed again, "O, my Father, if + this cup may not pass away from me except I drink it, thy will be done." + And once more, as he returned from his weary, sleeping disciples, and + found himself alone, the wish broke forth-yet tempered by the same + obedient compliance. + </p> + <p> + And here I pause to ask, if, in all that scene of agony, anything is + developed inconsistent with the character of Christ? If we would have it + otherwise? If these tears and groans of anguish are tokens of a weakness + that we would conceal from our convictions,—that we would overlook, + as marring the dignity and the divinity of the Saviour? For one, I would + not have it otherwise. I would not have the consoling strength, the + sympathizing tenderness, the holy victory that may be drawn from thence,—I + would not have these left out from the Life that was given us as a + pattern. Jesus, we are told, "was made perfect through suffering." This + struggle took place that victory might be won;—this discipline of + sorrow fell upon him that perfection and beauty might be developed. By + this we see that Christ's was a spirit liable to trial,—impressible + by suffering; and from this fact does the victory appear greater and more + real. In this we see one striving with man's sorrow,—seeking, like + man, to be delivered from pain and grief, yet rising to a calm obedience,—a + lofty resignation. Had Jesus passed through life always serene, always + unshrinking, we should not have seen a man, but something that man is not, + something that man cannot be in this world; and that calm question, "The + cup that my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" would lose its + force and significance. Otherwise, why should not Jesus be as resigned as + before? He had betrayed no sense of suffering, no impressibility by pain; + why should he not be willing, seeing he was always able to meet the end? + But O! when that deep, holy calmness has fallen upon a soul that has been + tossed by sorrow, and that has shrunk from death,—when the brow has + come up smooth and radiant from the shadow of mourning,—when that + soul is ready for the issue, not because it has always felt around it the + girdle of Omnipotence, but because, through weakness and suffering, it has + risen and worked out an unfaltering trust, and taken hold of the hand of + God by the effort of faith,—then it is, I say, that resignation if + beautiful and holy,—then do we wonder and admire. + </p> + <p> + So it was with Jesus. A little while ago we saw him bowed with sorrow, his + eyes lifted with tears to heaven. We saw that he keenly felt the + approaching pain, and shame, and death. A little while ago, the still + night air was laden with his cry, "Father, if it be thy will, let this cup + pass from me." And now, as one who is strong and ready, he says calmly to + Peter, "The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" + Truly, a battle has been fought, and a victory won, here; but we should + not be the better for it, were it not for that very process of suffering + in which that battle was waged, and from which that victory was wrung. + Now, when we sorrow, we know who also sorrowed; we remember whose agony + the still heavens looked upon with all their starry eyes,—whose + tears moistened the bosom of the bare earth,—whose cry of anguish + pierced the gloom of night. Now, too, when we sorrow, we know where to + find relief; we learn the spirit of resignation, and under what conditions + it may be born. Thank God, then, for the lesson of the lonely garden and + the weeping Christ-we, too, may be "made perfect through suffering." + </p> + <p> + Such, then, were the circumstances that illustrate the words of the text. + Scarcely had Jesus risen from his knees, and wakened the drowsy disciples, + when the light of lanterns flashed upon him, and Judas came with a + multitude to bear him to that death from which, but now, he shrunk with + agony. But he shrank no more. The trial was over,—the darkness had + vanished,—an angel had strengthened him; and when the impetuous + Peter drew his sword and smote off the servant's ear, his master turned to + him, with the calm rebuke, "Put up thy sword into his sheath; the cup + which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" Yes, cold and bitter + as that cup was, pressed next to his very lips, he had learned to drink + it. God had given him strength, and no more did he falter, no more did he + groan-save once, for a moment, when, upon the cross, drooping, and racked + with intense pain, he cried out, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken + me?" But that passed away in the triumphant ejaculation, "It is finished!" + </p> + <p> + Such was the resignation of Jesus; a trait in his character which, like + all the rest, is not only to be admired, but imitated;—not an + abstract virtue, manifested by a being so perfect and so enshrined in the + sanctity of a divine nature that we cannot approach it, and in our mortal, + work-day trials can never feel it; but a virtue which should be throned in + every heart, the strength and consolation of which every suffering soul + may experience. Nay, if there is one virtue which is more often needed + than any other, which lies at the base of true happiness, and than which + there is no surer seal of piety, it is this virtue of resignation. And let + me proceed to say, that by resignation I mean not cold and sullen apathy, + or reckless hardihood, but a sweet trust and humble acquiescence, which + show that the soul has submitted itself to the Father who knows and does + best, and that it meets his dispensations with obedience and his mysteries + with faith. The apathy and hardihood to which I have alluded are very far + from the trust and piety of a religious spirit. The fatalist acquiesces in + the course of things because he cannot help it. He has reasoned to the + conclusion that his murmuring and weeping will not alter matters and he + has resolved to take things as they come. But here is no resignation to + the will of God, but to the necessity of things. Here is no faith that all + things are wisely ordered, and that sorrow is but the shadow of the + Father's hand. No; here is the simple belief that things are as they are, + and cannot be altered,-that an arbitrary law is the eternal rule, not a + benevolent and holy purpose; and the philosopher would be just as resigned + if he believed all things to be under the guidance of a blind fate, whose + iron machinery drives on to level or exalt, unintelligent and remorseless, + whether in its course it brings about good or evil,-whether it gladdens + human hearts or crushes them. Such resignation as this may be quite common + in the world, manifested in various phases, and by men of different + religious opinions. Do we not often hear the expression, "Well, things are + as they are,-we do best to take them as they come;" and here the matter + ends? No higher reference is made. The things alluded to may issue from + the bosom of material nature, may be sent into the world by chance, or may + come from the good Father of all; but the minds of these reasoners reach + not so far. Now I repeat, there is no religion and no true philosophy in + this method; certainly it is not such resignation as Jesus manifested. In + fact, it indicates total carelessness as to the discipline of life, and + will generally be found with men in whose thoughts God is not, or to whose + conceptions he is the distant, inactive Deity, not the near and + ever-working Controller. I cannot admire the conduct of that man who when + the bolt of sorrow falls, receives it upon the armor of a rigid fatalism, + who wipes scarcely a tear from his hard, dry face, and says, "Well, it + cannot be helped; things are so ordered." Below all this there is often a + sulky, half-angry sentiment, as though the victim felt the blow, but was + determined not to wince,-as though there was an acknowledgment of + weakness, but also a display of pride,-a feeling that we cannot resist + sorrow, yet that sorrow has no business to come, and now that it has come + the sufferer will not yield to it. This, evidently, is not resignation, + religious resignation, but only sullen acquiescence, or reckless + hardihood. + </p> + <p> + In a certain sense it is true that we do well to take things as they + come,-that we cannot help the eternal laws that control events. But we + must go behind this truth. Whence do events come, and for what purpose do + they come? What is life, and for what end are all its varied + dispensations? Religion points us up beyond the cloud of materialism, and + behind the mechanism of nature, to an Infinite Spirit, to a God, to a + Father. All things are moved by infinite Love. Life is not merely a + phenomenon, it is a Lesson. Its events do not come and go, in a causeless, + arbitrary manner; they are meant for our discipline and our good. In + whatever aspect they come, then, let their appropriate lesson be heeded. + This is the religious view of life, and is wide apart from the philosophy + that lets events happen as they will, as though we were in the setting of + a heady current, and were borne along among other matters that now help + us, now jar and wound us,-that happen without order and without object; + all, like ourselves, driven along and taking things as they come. In the + religious view, all things stream from God's throne, and whatever sky + hangs over them, the infinite One is present; prosperity is the sunshine + that he has sent, and Faith, as she weeps, beholds a bow in the clouds. + </p> + <p> + The religious man takes things as they come, but how? In a reverent and + filial spirit, a spirit that obeys and trusts because God has ordained. He + refers, behind the event, to the will that declares it. And yet, this will + be no formal lifeless resignation. He will not be stripped of his manhood, + or become unnatural in his religion. His resignation will not be the cold + assent of reason, or the mere rote and repetition of the lips. No, it will + be born in struggling and in sorrow. Religion is not a process that makes + our nature callous to all fierce heats or drenching storms. Neither is he + the most religious man who is calmest in the keen crisis of trouble. I say + in the crisis of trouble-for to human vision there always is a crisis. We + cannot penetrate to the secret determinations of God, and in the season of + care and affliction there is a time when the issue is uncertain,-when we + cannot say it is sealed. What shall we do then? Is human agency nothing? + Grant that we are driving down a stream,-can we use no effort? Is there + not a time when deeds, struggles, prayers, are of some avail?-when the + spirit, in its intense agony, with swollen strength and surging tears, + heaves against the catastrophe, if yet, perchance, it may ward it off? + Truly, there is such a time, and the humblest disciple of Christ may weep + as he also wept. But let him also strive as Christ strove. Let him not + dash his grief in rebellious billows to the throne; let not his groans + arise in resentful murmurs; let the remembrance of what God is and why he + does, be with him, and let the filial, reverent trust steal in,—"Not + my will, but thine be done." That reference to God, that obedience to him, + rising from the very depths of sorrow, and clung to without faltering, is + RESIGNATION. It shall bestow peace and victory in the end. O! how + different from that sullen fatalism that lets things come as they will. To + such a soul things do come as they will, and it hardens under them,-they + do come as they will, but it sees not, cares not, why they come. No + thought goes up beyond the cloud to God,-no strength is born that shall + make life's trials lighter,-no love and faith that will seek the Father's + hand in the darkest hour, and shed an enduring light over the thorny path + of affliction, and upon the bosom of the grave. Look at these two. + Outwardly, their calmness may be the same. Nay, the one may evince emotion + and tears, while the other shall stand rigid in the hour of calamity, with + a bitter smile, or a frown of endurance. But in the one is strength, in + the other rigidity; in the one is power to triumph over sorrow, in the + other only nervous capacity to resist it. The one is man hardened to + indifference, sullen because of irreligion, upon whom some sorrow will one + day fall that will peel him to the quick, and he will not know where to + flee for healing. The other is man contending against evil, yet not + against God,-man with all the tenderness and strength of his nature, + impressible yet unconquerable, walking with feet that bleed among the + wounding thorns, and a heart that shrinks from the heavy woe, yet, all + lacerated as he is, able to walk through, because he holds by the hand of + Omnipotence. The one is the unbending tree, peeled by the lightning and + stripped by the North wind, lifting its gnarled head in sullen defiance to + the storm, which, when the storm does overcome it, shall be broken. The + other also is rooted in strength, and meets the rushing blast with a lofty + front. But as "it smiles in sunshine, so it bends in storm," trustful and + obedient, yet firm and brave, and nothing shall overwhelm it. + </p> + <p> + I trust I have succeeded in impressing upon you the difference between + Christian resignation and mere hardihood, or indifference. Resignation is + born of discipline, and lives only in a truly religious soul. We have seen + that it is not incompatible with tenderness; nay, it is more valuable, + because it springs up in natures that have thus suffered and wept. To see + them become calm and pass with unfaltering step through the valley of + affliction, when, but now, they shrunk from it, is a proof that God indeed + has strengthened them, and that they have had communion with him. The + unbeliever's stubbornness may endure to the end, but no human power could + inspire this sudden and triumphant calmness. + </p> + <p> + And even when the crisis is past, when the sorrow is sealed, it is not + rebellion to sigh and weep. Our Father has made us so. He has opened the + springs of love that well up within us, and can we help mourning when they + turn to tears and blood? He has made very tender the ties that bind us to + happiness, and can we fail to shrink and suffer when they are cut asunder? + When we have labored long in the light of hope, and lo! It goes out in + darkness, and the blast of disappointment rushes upon us, can we help + being sad? Can the mother prevent weeping when she kisses the lips of her + infant that shall prattle to her no more; when she presses its tiny hand, + so cold and still,-the little hand that has rested upon her bosom and + twined in her hair; and even when it is so sweet and beautiful that she + could strain it to her heart forever, it is laid away in the envious + concealment of the grave? Can the wife, or the husband, help mourning, + when the partner and counsellor is gone,-when home is made very desolate + because the familiar voice sounds not there, and the cast-off garment of + the departed is strangely vacant, and the familiar face has vanished, + never more to return? Can the child fail to lament, when the father, the + mother,-the being who nurtured him in infancy, who pillowed his head in + sickness, who prayed for him with tears on his sinful wandering, who ever + rejoiced in his joy and wept in his sorrows,-can he fail to weep when that + venerable form lies all enshrouded, and the door closes upon it, and the + homestead is vacant, and the link that bound him to childhood is in the + grave? Say, can we check the gush of sorrow at any of life's sharp trials + and losses? No; nor are we forbidden to weep, nor would we be human if we + did not weep,-if, at least, the spirit did not quiver when the keen + scathing goes over it. But how shall we weep? O! Thou, who didst suffer in + Gethsemane, thou hast taught us how. By thy sacred sorrow and thy pious + obedience thou has taught us; by thy great agony and thy sublime victory + thou has taught us. We must refer all to God. We must earnestly, sincerely + say, "Thy will be done." Then our prayers will be the source of our + strength. Then our sorrowing will bring us comfort. "They will be done;" + repeat this, feel this, realize its meaning and its relations, and you + shall be able to say, with a rooted calmness, "The cup which my Father + hath given me, shall I not drink it?" + </p> + <p> + "The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" Who shall + be able to say this as Jesus said it? They who struggle as he + struggled,-who obey as he obeyed,-who trust as he trusted. There are those + upon earth who have been able to say it. It has made them stronger and + happier. There are those in heaven who have been able to say it. They have + gone up from earthly communions to the communion on high. Do you not see + them there, walking so serenely by the still waters, with palms about + their brows? Serenely-for in their faces nothing is left of their conflict + but its triumph; nothing of their swollen agony but the massy enduring + strength it has imparted. They have ceased from their trials, but first + they learned how to endure them. They submitted, but they were not + overwhelmed. When sorrow came, each pious soul struggled, but trusted; and + so was able to meet the last struggle,-was able to say as the shadow of + death fell upon it, "The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not + drink it?" They were resigned. Behold-theirs is the victory! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MISSION OF LITTLE CHILDREN + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in + the midst of them." Matthew xviii.2. +</pre> + <p> + Everything has its mission. I speak not now of the office which each part + of the great universe discharges. I speak not of the relation between + these parts,—that beautiful ordinance by which the whole is linked + together in one common life, by which the greatest is dependent upon the + least, and the least shares in the benefactions of the greatest. In this + sense, everything has, strictly, its mission. But I speak of the + influence, the instruction, which everything has, or may have, for the + soul of man. The flower, and the star, the grass of the field, the + outspread ocean, are full of lessons; they perform a mission to our + spiritual nature, if we will receive it. We may pass them by as simply + material forms, the decorations or conveniencies(sic) of this our natural + life. But if we will come to them in a religious spirit, and study all + their meaning, they will be to us ministers of God, impressive and + eloquent as human lips, and filled with truths instructive as any that man + can utter. + </p> + <p> + Jesus illustrated his teachings by these objects. He made everything that + was at hand perform a mission for the human soul. The lilies of the field + were clothed with spiritual suggestion, and the fowls of the air, as they + flew through the trackless firmament, bore a lesson of truth and + consolation. As if to show that there is nothing, however small, that is + insignificant, and that has not its mission, he selected the falling + sparrow to be a minister of wisdom, and dignified the wayside well as a + clear and living oracle of the divinest truth. + </p> + <p> + In the instance before us, the object selected was a little child. In + reply to the question, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" + Jesus set this little one in the midst of his disciples and said, "Verily + I say unto you, except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye + shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." Thus did he rebuke their + sensuous ideas of greatness by a spiritual truth, and make a little child + the teacher of profound and beautiful wisdom. I do not propose, however, + at this time, to dwell upon the precise doctrines which Christ taught in + the instance, but having, as it were, the little child set in our midst, + to draw from it further lessons that may do us good. In one word, I + propose to speak of the mission of little children. + </p> + <p> + In using this term "mission," I wish to have no obscurity about my + meaning. I refer, by it, to the influence which little children may exert + upon us,—to the effects which they may produce,—rather than to + any direct object which they can have in view, or for which they set + themselves to work. They may be unconscious missionaries; indeed, to a + great extent, they are so. But so are the lilies of the field and the + birds of the air. Yet if we believe that God is the ordainer of all wisdom + and of all good, that he uses an object or event in numberless ways, and + makes it the unconscious instrument of many of his plans, then we may say + that children are sent by him for the express purpose of producing these + effects, and in that sense have a mission. + </p> + <p> + I pass to consider some of the modes in which that mission is + accomplished. + </p> + <p> + I. Little children give us a sincere and affectionate manifestation of + human nature. I know that even a child will soon become artful, and imbibe + the spirit of dealing and of policy. But in a strongly comparative sense, + the child is artless. The thoughts of the heart leap spontaneously from + the lips. The bubbling impulse is closely followed by the action. Its + desire, its aversion, its love, its curiosity, are expressed without + modification. The broken prattle, those half-pronounced words, are uttered + with clear, ringing tones of sincerity. There is no coil of deceit about + the heart. There are no secrets chambered in the brain. The countenance + has put on no disguise. There is no manoeuvring with lips or actions, no + suspicion or plotting in the eyes. It is simple human nature fresh from + the hands of God, with all its young springs in motion, trying themselves + in their simplicity and their newness. The eyes open upon the world, not + with speculation, but with wonder. To them, the ancient hills and the + morning stars are just created, new phenomena burst upon them every + moment, and nature in a thousand channels pours itself into the young + soul. And how soon it learns the meaning of a mother's smile, and the + protection of a father's hand! How soon the fountains of affection are + unsealed and the mystery of human love takes possession of the hear! But + the tides of that love are controlled by no calculation, are fettered by + no proprieties, but flow artlessly and freely. + </p> + <p> + Humanity soon runs into deceit, and the sincerest man wears a mask. We + cannot trust our most familiar friends, to the whole extent. We all retain + something in our inmost hearts that nobody knows but we and God. The world + bids us be shrewd and politic. We walk in a mart of selfishness. Eyes + stare upon us, and we are afraid of them. We meet as traders, as + partisans, as citizens, as worshippers, as friends-brothers, if you + will-but we must not express all we think, we must school ourselves in + some respects,—must adopt some conventionalities. There is some + degree of isolation between ourselves and every other one. But from the + world's strife and sordidness, its wearisome forms and cold suspicions, we + may turn to the sanctity of home, and if we have a child there, we shall + find affection without alloy, a welcome that leaps from the heart in + sunshine to the face, and speaks right from the soul;—a companion + who is not afraid or ashamed of us, who makes no calculation about our + friendship, who has faith in it, and requires of us perfect faith in + return, and whose sincerity rebukes our worldliness, and makes us wonder + at the world. And if all this makes us better and happier, if it keeps our + hearts from hardness and attrition, if it begets in us something of the + same sincerity, and hallows us with something of the same affection, if it + softens and purifies us at all, then do not children, in this respect + perform a mission for us? + </p> + <p> + And shall we not learn from them more confidence in human nature, seeing + that "the child is father to the man," and that much that seems cold and + hard in men may conceal the remains of childhood's better feeling? And, + also, shall it not make us deplore and guard against those influences + which can change the sincere and loving child into the deceitful and + selfish man-that cover the spring of genuine feeling with the thick rime + of worldliness, and petrify the tender chords of the heart into rough, + unfeeling sinews? The man should not be, in all respects, as the child. + The child cannot have the glory of the man. If it is not polluted by his + vices, it is not ennobled by his virtues. But in so much as the child + awakens in us tenderness, and teaches us sincerity, and counteracts our + coarser and harder tendencies, and cheers us in our isolation from human + hearts, by binding us close with a warm affection, and sheds ever around + our path the mirrored sunshine of our youth and our simplicity, in so much + the child accomplishes for us a blessed mission. + </p> + <p> + II. Children teach us faith and confidence. Man soon becomes proud with + reason, and impatient of restraint. He thinks he knows, or ought to know, + the whole mystery of the universe. It is not easy for him to take anything + upon trust, or to lie low in the hand of God. But the child is full of + faith. He is not old enough to speculate, and the things he sees are to + him so strange and wonderful that he can easily believe in "the things + that are unseen." He propounds many questions, but entertains no doubts as + to God and heaven. And what confidence has he in his father's government + and his mother's providence! + </p> + <p> + I do not say, here, that a man's faith should be as a child's faith. Man + must examine and reason, contend with doubt, and wander through mystery. + But I would have him cherish the feeling that he too is a child, the + denizen of a Father's house, and have sufficient confidence in that Father + to trust his goodness; and to remember, if things look perplexed and + discordant to him, that his vision is but a child's vision-he cannot see + all. Indeed, there is a beautiful analogy between a child in its father's + house and man in the universe, and much there is in the filial sentiment + that belongs to both conditions. Beautifully has it been shown by a recent + writer how the natural operation of this sentiment in the child's heart, + and in the sphere of home, stands somewhat in the place of that religion + which man needs in his maturer conditions. "God has given it, in its very + lot," says he, "a religion of its own, the sufficiency of which it were + impiety to doubt. The child's veneration can scarcely climb to any loftier + height than the soul of a wise and good parent...How can there be for him + diviner truth than his father's knowledge, a more wonderous world than his + father's experience, a better providence than his mother's vigilance, a + securer fidelity than in their united promise? Encompassed round by these, + he rests as in the embrace of the only omniscience he can comprehend." + (Martineau) + </p> + <p> + But O! my friends, when our childhood has passed by, and we go out to + drink the mingled cup of life, and cares come crowding upon us, and hopes + are crushed, and doubts wrestle with us, and sorrow burdens our spirits, + then we need a deeper faith, and look up for a stronger Father. A kind + word will not stifle our grief then. We cannot go to sleep upon our + mother's arms, and forget it all. There is no charm to hold our spirits + within the walls of this home, the earth. Our thoughts crave more than + this. Our souls reach out over the grave, and cry for something after! No + bauble will assuage this bitterness. It is spiritual and stern, and we + must have a word from heaven-a promise from one who is able to fulfill. We + look around us, and find that Father, and his vary nature contains the + promise that we need. And as the child in his ignorance has faith, not + because he can demonstrate, but because it is his father, so let us, in + our ignorance, feel that in this great universe of many mansions, of + solemn mysteries, of homes beyond the earth, of relationships that reach + through eternity, of plans only a portion of which is seen here; so let us + look up as to a Father's fare, take hold of his hand, go in and out and + lie down securely in his presence, and cherish faith. If children only + teach us to do this, how beautiful and how great is their mission! + </p> + <p> + III. Children waken in us new and powerful affections. Nobody but a parent + can realize what these affections are, can tell what a fountain of emotion + the newborn child unseals, what chords of strange love are drawn out from + the heart, that before lay there concealed. One may have all powers of + intellect, a refined moral culture, a noble and wide-reaching + philanthropy, and yet a child born to him shall awaken within him a depth + of tenderness, a sentiment of love, a yearning affection, that shall + surprise him as to the capacity and the mystery of his nature. + </p> + <p> + And the relation of a mother to her child; what other is like it? Without + it, how undeveloped is the great element of affection, how small a horn of + its orb is filled and lighted! What was she until that new love woke up + within her, and her heart and soul thrilled with it, and first truly lived + in it? Of all the degrees of human love, how amply is this the highest! In + all the depths of human love, how surely is this the nethermost! When + illustrations fail us, how confidently do we seize upon this! The mother + nurturing her child in tenderness, watching over it with untiring love! O! + that is affection stronger than any of this earth. It has a power, a + beauty, a holiness like no other sentiment. When that child has grown to + maturity, and has gone out from her in profligacy and in scorn; when the + world has denounced him, and justice sets its price upon his head, and + lovers and companions fall off from him in utter loathing-we do not ask, + we know, there is one heart that cannot reject him. No sin of his can + paralyze the chord that vibrates there for him. No alienation can cancel + the affection that was born at his birth, that pillowed him in his + infancy, centred in him its life, clasped him with its strength, and shed + upon him its blessings, its hopes, and its prayers. + </p> + <p> + And no one feels the death of a child as a mother feels it. Even the + father cannot realize it thus. There is a vacancy in his home, and a + heaviness in his heart. There is a chain of association that at set times + comes round with its broken link; there are memories of endearment, a keen + sense of loss, a weeping over crushed hopes, and a pain of wounded + affliction. But the mother feels that one has been taken away who was + still closer to her heart. Hers has been the office of constant + ministration. Every gradation of feature has developed before her eyes. + She has detected every new gleam of intelligence. She heard the first + utterance of every new word. She has been the refuge of his fears; the + supply of his wants. And every task of affection has woven a new link, and + made dear to her its object. And when he dies, a portion of her own life, + as it were, dies. How can she give him up, with all these memories, these + associations? The timid hands that have so often taken hers in trust and + love, how can she fold them on his breast, and surrender them to the cold + clasp of death? The feet whose wanderings she has watched so narrowly, how + can she see them straitened to go down into the dark valley? The head that + she has pressed to her lips and her bosom, that she has watched in burning + sickness and in peaceful slumber, a hair of which she could not see + harmed, O! how can she consign it to the chamber of the grave? The form + that not for one night has been beyond her vision or her knowledge, how + can she put it away for the long night of the sepulchre, to see it no + more? Man has cares and toils that draw away his thoughts and employ them; + she sits in loneliness, and all these memories, all these suggestions, + crowd upon her. How can she bear all this? She could not, were it not that + her faith is as her affection; and if the one is more deep and tender than + in man, the other is more simple and spontaneous, and takes confidently + hold of the hand of God. + </p> + <p> + Thus, then, do children awaken within us deep and mighty affections; and + is it not their mission to do so? Do we not see many beautiful offices + created and discharged by these affections—tender and far-reaching + relationships into which they run? Do we not see how they win the heart + from frivolity and selfishness, and make it aware of duties, and quick + with sympathies? I shall not enter into detailed considerations of the + results of this affection thus awakened in us by children. A little + reflection will render them obvious to you. Let me simply say, that in + awakening these affections children discharge an important and beautiful + mission. + </p> + <p> + IV. I might speak of other offices discharged by little children; of the + influence upon us of their purity and their innocence; their importance in + the social state; of the benefits conferred upon us by the very duties + which we exercise toward them. But merely suggesting these, I will speak + at this time of but one more mission which they perform for us, and this, + my friends, is performed through sadness and through tears. The little + child performs it by its death. It has been with us a little while. We + have enjoyed its bright and innocent companionship by the dusty highway of + life, in the midst of its toils, its cares, and its sin. It has been a + gleam of sunshine and a voice of perpetual gladness in our homes. We have + learned from it blessed lessons of simplicity, sincerity, purity, faith. + It has unsealed within us this gushing, never-ebbing tide of affection. + Suddenly, it is taken away. We miss the gleam of sunshine. We miss the + voice of gladness. Our homes are dark and silent. We ask, "Shall it not + come again?" And the answer breaks upon us through the cold gray silence, + "Nevermore!" We say to ourselves again and again, "Can it be possible?" + "Do we not dream?" "Will not that life and affection return to us?" + "Nevermore!" O! nevermore! The heart is like an empty mansion, and that + word goes echoing through its desolate chambers. We are stricken and + afflicted. But must this, should this, be always and only so? Are we not + looking merely at the earthly aspect of the event? Has it not a spiritual + phase for us? Nay, do we not begin to consider how through our temporal + affection an eternal good is wrought out for us? Do we begin to realize + that in our souls we have derived profit from it already? Do we not begin + to learn that life is not a holiday or a workday only, but a discipline,—that + God conducts that discipline in infinite wisdom and benevolence,—mingles + the draught, and, when he sees fit, infuses bitterness? Not that constant + sweet would not please us better, but that our discipline, which is of + more importance than our indulgence, will be more effectual thereby. This + is often talked about; I ask, do not we who are called upon to mourn the + loss of children realize it,—actually realize that that loss is for + our spiritual gain? If we do not, we are merely looking upon the earthly + phase of our loss. If we do not realize this spiritual good, we may. + </p> + <p> + Yes, in death the little child has a mission for us. Through that very + departure he accomplishes for us, perhaps, what he could not accomplish by + his life. These affections which he has awakened, we have considered how + strong they are. They are stronger, are they not, than any attachment to + mere things of this earth? But that child has gone from us,—gone + into the unseen, the spiritual world. What then? Do our affections sink + back into our hearts,—become absorbed and forgotten? O, no! They + reach out after that little one; they follow him into the unseen and + spiritual world,—thus is it made a great and vivid reality to us,—perhaps + for the first time. We have talked of it, we have believed in it; but now + that our dead have gone into it, we have, as it were, entered it + ourselves. Its atmosphere is around us, chords of affection draw us toward + it, the faces of our departed ones look out from it—and it is a + reality. And is it not worth something to make it such a reality? + </p> + <p> + We are wedded to this world. It is beautiful, it is attractive, it is + real. Immortality is a pleasant thought. The spiritual land is an object + of faith. But the separation between this and that is cold to think of, + and hard to bear. It needs something stronger than this earth to draw us + toward that spiritual world; to break some of the thousand tendrils that + bind us here. My friends, though many powerful appeals, many solid + arguments, cannot break our affections from this earth, the hand of a + departed child can do it. The voice that calls us to unseen realities, + that bids us prepare for the heavenly land, that says from heights of + spiritual bliss and purity, "Come up hither;"—that voice that we + loved so on earth, and gladly can we rise and follow it. + </p> + <p> + Behold, then, what a little child can perform for us through its death! It + makes real and attractive to us that spiritual world to which it has gone, + and calls our affections from earth to that true life which is the great + end of our being, which is the object of all our discipline, our mingled + joy and suffering, here upon this earth. That little child, gone from its + sufferings of early,—gone + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Gentle and undefiled, with blessings on its head,"— +</pre> + <p> + has it indeed become a very angel of God for us, and is it calling us to a + more spiritual life, and does it win us to heaven? Is its memory around us + like a pure presence into which no thought of sin can readily enter? Or is + it with us, even yet, a spiritual companion of our ways? From being the + guarded and the guided, has it risen in infant innocence, yet in the + knowledge and majesty of the immortal life, to be the guard and the guide? + Does it, indeed, make our hearts softer and purer, and cause us to think + more of duty, and live more holy, thus clothing ourselves to go and dwell + with it? Does it, by its death, accomplish all this? O! most important, + most glorious mission of all, if we only heed it, if we only accept it. + Then shall we behold already the wisdom and benevolence of our Father + breaking through the cloud that overshadows us. Already shall we see that + the tie, which seemed to be dropped and broken, God has taken up to draw + us closer to himself, and that it is interwoven with his all-gracious plan + for our spiritual profit and perfection. And we can anticipate how it will + all be reconciled, when his own hand shall wipe away our tears, and the + bliss of reunion shall extract the last drop of bitterness from "the cup + that our Father had given us." + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + OUR RELATIONS TO THE DEPARTED + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "She is not dead, but sleepeth." Luke viii.52 +</pre> + <p> + A Great peculiarity of the Christian religion is its transforming or + transmuting power. I speak not now of the regeneration which accomplishes + in the individual soul, but of the change it works upon things without. It + applies the touchstone to every fact of existence, and exposes its real + value. Looking through the lens of spiritual observation, it throws the + realities of life into a reverse perspective from that which is seen by + the sensual eye. Objects which the world calls great it renders + insignificant, and makes near and prominent things which the frivolous put + off. Thus the Christian, among other men, often appears anomalous. Often, + amidst the congratulations of the world, he detects reason for mourning, + and is penetrated with sorrow. On the contrary, where others shrink, he + walks undaunted, and converts the scene of dread and suffering into an + ante-chamber of heaven. In this light, the Apostle Paul speaks of himself + and others, "As sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many + rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things." Indeed, all the + beatitudes are based upon this peculiarity; for the true blessing, the + inward, everlasting riches, are for those who, in the world's eye, are + poor, and mourning, and persecuted. Jesus himself weeps amid triumphant + psalms and sounding hosannas, while on the cross he utters the prayer of + forgiveness, and the ejaculation of peace. + </p> + <p> + No wonder, then, that the believer views the ghastliest fact of all in a + consoling and even a beautiful aspect; and death itself becomes but sleep. + Well was that trait of our religion which I have now suggested illustrated + at the bed-side of Jairus' daughter. Well did that noisy, lamenting group + represent the worldly who read only the material fact, or that flippant + skepticism which laughs all supernatural truth to scorn. And well did + Jesus represent the spirit of his doctrine, and its transforming power, + when he exclaimed, "She is not dead, but sleepeth." + </p> + <p> + Yes! beautifully has Christianity transformed death. To the eye of flesh + it was the final direction of our fate,—the consummate riddle in + this mystery of being,—the wreck of all our hopes,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "The simple senses crowned his head, + Omega! thou art Lord, they said; + We find no motion in the dead." +</pre> + <p> + Ever, though with higher desires and better gleamings, the mind has + struggled and sunk before this fact of decay, and this awful silence of + nature; while in the waning light of the soul, and among the ashes of the + sepulchre, skepticism has built its dreary negation. And though the mother + could lay down her child without taking hints which God gave her from + every little flower that sprung on that grassy bed,—though the + unexhausted intellect has reasoned that we ought to live again, and the + affections, more oracular, swelling with the nature of their great source, + have prophesied that we shall,—never, until the revelation of Christ + descended into our souls, and illuminated all our spiritual vision, have + we been able to say certainly of death, it is a sleep. This has made its + outward semblance not that of cessation, but of progression—not an + end, but a change—converting its rocky couch to a birth-chamber, + over-casting its shadows with beams of eternal morning, while behind its + cold unconsciousness the unseen spirit broods into higher life. "He fell + asleep," says the sacred chronicler, speaking of bloody Stephen. "Our + friend Lazarus sleepeth," said Christ to his disciples; and yet again, as + here in the text, the beautiful synonyme is repeated, "She is not dead, + but sleepeth." + </p> + <p> + But I proceed to remark, if the Christian religion thus transforms death, + or, in other words, abolishes the idea of its being annihilation, or an + end, then it gives us a new view of our relations to the departed. What + are these relations? The answers to this question will form the burden of + the present discourse. + </p> + <p> + I. There is the relation of memory. It is true, we may argue that this + relation exists whether the Christian view of death be correct or not;—so + long have those who are now gone actually lived with us,—so vivid + are their images among the realities of the soul,—though the grave + should forever shut them from our communion. But this relation of memory + has peculiar propriety and efficacy when associated with a Christian + faith. If the dead live no more, what would memory be to us but a spectre + and a sting? Should we not then seek to repress those tender + recollections,—to close our eyes to those pale, sad visions of + departed love? Should we not invoke the glare and tumult of the world to + distract or absorb our thoughts? Would we not say, "Let it come, the + pleasure, the occupation of the hour, that we may think no more of the + dead, plucked from us forever,—let us drive thoughtlessly down this + swift current of life, since thought only harrows us,—let us drive + thoughtlessly down, enjoying all we can, until we too lie by the side of + those departed ones, like them to moulder in everlasting unconsciousness." + I don not say that this would always be the case without religious hope, + but it is a very natural condition of the feelings in such circumstances,—it + is the most humane alternative that would then be left. At least, no one + so well as the Christian can go into the inner chambers of memory, feel + the strength of its sad yet blissful associations, and calmly invoke the + communion of the dead. + </p> + <p> + I speak not now of what occurs in those first bitter days of grief, when + the heart's wound bleeds afresh at every touch,—when we are + continually surprised by the bleak fact that the loved one is actually + dead. But I speak of those after seasons, those Indian summers of the + soul, in which all the present desolation is blended with the bloom and + enjoyment of the past. Then do we find that the tie which binds us so + tenderly to the departed is a strong and fruitful one. We love, in those + still retired seasons, to call up the images of the dead, to let them + hover around us, as real, for the hour, as any living forms. We linger in + that communion, with a pleasing melancholy. We call up all that was lovely + in their character, all that was delightful in their earthly intercourse. + They live again for us, and we for them. + </p> + <p> + In this relation of memory, moreover, we realize the fact, that while the + departed were upon earth we enjoyed much with them. This is a truth which + in any estimate of our loss we should not overlook. Do we mourn that the + dead have been taken from us so soon? Are we not also thankful that they + were ours so long? In our grief over unfulfilled expectation, do we + cherish no gratitude for actual good? So much bliss has God mingled in our + cup of existence that the might have withheld. He lent it to us thus far; + why complain, rather, that he did not intrust us with it longer? O! these + fond recollections, this concentrated happiness of past hours which we + call up with tears, remind us that so much good we have actually + experienced. + </p> + <p> + In close connection with this thought is the fact, that, by some delicate + process of refinement, we remember of the dead only what was good. In the + relation of memory we see them in their best manifestation, we live over + the hours of our past intercourse. Though in extraordinary instances it + may be true that "the evil which men do lives after them," yet even in + regard to the illustrious dead, their imperfections are overlooked, and + more justice is done to their virtues than in their own time. Much more is + this the case with those around whom our affections cling more closely. + The communion of memory, far more than that of life, is unalloyed by sharp + interruptions, or by any stain. That communion now, though saddened, is + tender, and without reproach. + </p> + <p> + And even if we remember that while they lived our relations with them were + all beautiful, shall we not believe that when they were taken away their + earthly mission for us was fulfilled? Was not their departure as essential + a work of the divine beneficence as their bestowal? Who knows but if they + had overstayed the appointed hour, our relations with them might have + changed?—some new element of discontent and unhappiness been + introduced, which would have entirely altered the character of our + recollections? At least, to repeat what I have just suggested, what + Christian doubts that their taking away—this change from living + communion to the communion of memory—was for an end as wise and kind + as were all the love and intercourse so long vouchsafed to us? + </p> + <p> + Vital, the, for the Christian, is this relation which we have with the + dead by memory. We linger upon it, and find in it a strange and sweet + attraction, and is not much of this because, though we may be unconscious + of it, the current of faith subtilely intermingles with our grief, and + gives its tone to our communion? We cannot consider the departed as lost + to us forever. The suggestion of rupture holds a latent suggestion of + reunion. The hues of memory are colored by the reflection of hope. + Religion transforms the condition of the departed for us, and we consider + them not as dead, but sleeping. + </p> + <p> + II. There is another relation which we have with the dead,—the + relation of spiritual existence. We live with them, not only by communion + with the past, by images of memory, but by that fine, mysterious bond + which links us to all souls, and in which we live with them now and + forever. The faith that has converted death into a sleep has also + transformed the whole idea of life. If the one is but a halt in the + eternal march,—a slumbrous rest preceeding a new morning,—the + other is but the flow of one continuous stream, mated awhile with the + flesh, but far more intimately connected with all intelligences in the + universe of God. What are the conditions of our communion with the living—those + with whom we come in material contact? The eye, the lip, the hand, are but + symbols, interpretations;—behind these it is only spirit that + communes with spirit, even in the market or the street. But not to enter + into so subtle a discussion, of what kind are some of the best communions + which we have on earth? We take up some wise and virtuous book, and enter + into the author's mind. Seas separate us from him,—he knows us not; + he never hears our names. But have we not a close relation to him? Is + there not a strong bond of spiritual communion between us? Nay, may not + the intercourse we thus have with him be better and truer than any which + we could have from actual contact,—from local acquaintance? Then, + some icy barrier of etiquette might separate us,—some coldness of + temperament upon his part,—some spleen or disease; we might be + shocked by some temporary deformity; some little imperfection might betray + itself. But here, in his book, which we read three thousand miles away + from him, we receive his noblest thoughts,—his best spiritual + revelations; and we know him, and commune with him most intimately, not + through local but through spiritual affinities. + </p> + <p> + And how pleasing is the though that not even death interrupts this + relation. Years, as well as miles—ages may separate us from the + great and good man; but we hold with him still that living communion of + the spirit. Our best life may flow to us from this communion. Some of our + richest spiritual treasures have been deposited in this intercourse of + thought. Some of our noblest hopes and resolutions have been animated by + those whose lips have long since been sealed,—whose very monuments + have crumbled. + </p> + <p> + A dear friend goes away from us to a foreign land. We watch the receeding + sail, and feel that that is a bond between us, until it fades away in the + far blue horizon. Then it is a consolation to walk by the shore of that + sea, and to realize that the same waters lave the other shore, where he + dwells,—to watch some star, and know that at such an hour his eye + and thought are also directed to it. Thus the soul will not entertain the + idea of absolute separation, but makes all those material objects agents + for its affinities. But how much nearer does that absent one come to us, + when we know that at such an hour we both are kneeling in prayer, and that + our spirits meet, as it were, around the footstool of God! + </p> + <p> + Thus we see that even in life there are spiritual relations which bind us + to our fellows, and that often these are dearer and stronger than those of + local contact. Why should we suppose that death cuts off all such + affinities? It does not cut them off. It only removes the loved from our + converse and our sight; but if, when absent in some distant land of this + earth, we are conscious of still holding relations to them, do we not + retain the same though they have vanished into that mysterious and unseen + land which lies beyond the grave? "She is not dead, but sleepeth." + Christianity has taught us to look away from the ghastly secrets of the + sepulchre, and not consider that changing clay as the friend we mourn, but + as only the cast-off and mouldering garment. It has kindled within us a + lively appreciation of the continued existence of those who have gone from + us; taught us to feel that the thoughts, the love, the real life of the + departed, all, in fact, that communed with us here below, still lives and + acts. And our relations to them are relations which we bear, not to + abstractions of memory, to phantoms of by-gone joy, but to spiritual + intelligences, whose current of being flows on uninterrupted, with whose + current of being our own mingles. I know not how it is with others, but to + me there is inexpressible consolation in this thought. + </p> + <p> + But I would suggest that, as spiritual beings, we bear even a closer + relation to the departed. I said that Christianity has transformed the + whole idea of life. It has shown that we are essentially spirits, and that + our highest relations are spiritual. If so, it seems an arrogant + assumption to deny that any intercourse may exist between ourselves and + the spiritual world. Possessing as we do this mysterious nature, throbbing + with the attraction of the eternal sphere, who shall say that it touches + no spiritual confines,—that it has communion only with the beings + that we see? It is a dull atheism which repudiates all such intimations as + superstitious or absurd. To speak more distinctly, I allude to the + consoling thought which springs up almost intuitively, that the departed + may, at times, see us, and be present with us, though we do not recognize + them. For wise and good reasons, our senses may so constrain us that we + cannot perceive these spiritual beings. But the same reasons do not exist + to shut them from beholding and visiting us. The most essential idea of + the immortal state is that it yields certain prerogatives which we cannot + possess in our mortal condition. May it not be, therefore, that while it + is our lot to be restricted to sensuous vision, and to behold only + material forms, it is their privilege, having received the spiritual + sight, to see both spiritual and material things? + </p> + <p> + Nor need we imagine that immortality implies distance from us,—that + change of state requires any great change of place. Looking through this + earthly glass, we see but darkly; but when death shatters it we may behold + close around us the friends we have loved, and find their spiritual + peculiarity is not incompatible with such near residence. The homes of + departed spirits may be all around us,—these spirits themselves may + be ever hovering near, unseen in our blindness of the senses. At all + events, we deem it one of the grand distinctions of spirit that it is not + confined to one region of space, but may pass, quick as its own + intelligence, from sphere to sphere. And while I would rebuke rash + speculation, I would also rebuke the cold materialism which unhesitatingly + rejects an idea like this which I have now suggested. + </p> + <p> + I maintain, moreover, that such speculation is not all idle. It serves to + quicken within us the thought of how near the dead may be to us, to purify + that thought, and to breathe upon our fevered hearts a consoling hope. And + when I combine its intrinsic reasonableness with the spirit and + spiritualism of Christianity, and that intuitive suggestion which springs + up in so many souls, I can urge but faint objection to those who entertain + it, and would, if possible, share and diffuse the comfort which it gives. + Nearer, than, than we imagine—close as in mortal contact, and more + intimately—may be those whom we, with earthly vision behold no more; + visiting us in hours of loneliness, and affording unseen companionship; + watching us in the stillness of slumber, and reflecting themselves in our + dreams. + </p> + <p> + But, whether we indulge this notion or not, let us realize the relation + which we have with the departed by the ties of mutual spirituality. Let us + not coldly restrict or weaken this relation. If the material world is full + of inexplicable things,—if we cannot explain the secret affinities + of the star and the flower,—let us feel how full of mystery and how + full of promise is this spiritual universe of which we are parts, and + whose conditions we so little know. Let us cherish that transcendent + faith, that quick, spiritual sympathy, which says of the departed, "They + are not dead, but sleeping." + </p> + <p> + III. Finally, we have with the dead the relation of discipline. Though we + should see them only in the abstractions of memory,—though it should + be true that they have no spiritual intercourse with us,—yet their + agency in our behalf has not ceased. They still accomplish a work for us. + That work is in the moral efficacy of bereavement and sorrow. In their + going away they lead our thoughts out beyond the limits of the world. They + quicken us to an interest in the spiritual land, as one who looks upon a + map, and listlessly reads the name of some foreign shore, so, often, do we + open this blessed revelation not heeding its recital of the immortal + state. But as, when some friend goes to that distant coast, that spot on + the map becomes, of all places, most vivid and prominent, so when our + loved ones die, the spiritual country largely occupies our thoughts and + attracts our affections. They depart that we may be weaned from earth. + They ascend that we may "look steadfastly towards heaven." If this is not + our everlasting home, why should they all remain here to cheat us with + that thought? If we must seek a better country, should there not be + premonitions for us, breaking up, and farewells, and the hurried departure + of friends who are ready before us? I need not dwell on this suggestion. + We are too much of the earth, earthy, and bound up in sensual interests. + It is often needful that some shock of disappointment should shake our + idea of terrestrial stability—should awake us to a sense of our + spiritual relations—should strike open some chasm in this dead, + material wall, and let in the light of the unlimited and immortal state to + which we go. We need the discipline of bereavement in temporal things, to + win us to things eternal. And so, in their departure, the loved accomplish + for us a blessed and spiritual result, and instead of being wholly lost to + us, become bound to us by a new and vital relation. + </p> + <p> + But these loved ones depart, no merely to bind our affections to another + state, but to fit us better for the obligations of this. Perhaps, in the + indulgence of full communion, in the liquid ease of prosperity, we have + scantily discharged our social duties. We have not appreciated love, + because we have never felt its absence. We have shocked the tenderest + ties, because we were ignorant of their tenderness. We have withheld good + offices, because we knew not how rare is the opportunity to fulfil them. + But when one whom we love passes away, then, realizing a great loss, we + learn how vital was that relation, how inestimable the privilege which is + withdrawn forever. How quick then is our regret for every harsh word which + we have spoken to the departed, or for any momentary alienation which we + have indulged! This, however, should not reduce us to a morbid + sensitiveness, or an unavailing sorrow, seeing that it is blended with so + many pleasant memories; but it should teach us our duty to the living. It + should make our affections more diligent and dutiful. It should check our + hasty words, and assuage our passions. It should cause us, day and night, + to meet in kindness and part in peace. Our social ties are golden links of + uncertain tenure, and, one by one, they drop away. Let us cherish a more + constant love for those who make up our family circle, for "not long may + we stay." The allotments of duty, perhaps, will soon distribute us into + different spheres of action; our lines, which now fall together in a + pleasant place, will be wide apart as the zones, or death will cast his + shadow upon these familiar faces, and interrupt our long communion. Let + us, indeed, preserve this temper with all men—those who meet us in + the street, in the mart, in the most casual or selfish concerns of life. + We cannot remain together a great while, at the longest. Let us meet, + then, with kindness, that when we part no pang may remain. Let not a + single day bear witness to the neglect or violation of any duty which + shall lie hard in the heart when it is excited to tender and solemn + recollections. Let only good-will beam from faces that so soon shall be + changed. Let no root of bitterness spring up in one man's bosom against + another, when, ere long, nature will plant flowers upon their common + grave. "Let not the sun go down upon our wrath," when his morning beams + may search our accustomed places for one or both of us, in vain. + </p> + <p> + Thus, if the dead teach us to regard more dutifully the living, they will + accomplish for us a most beautiful discipline. Their departure may also + serve another end. It may teach us the great lessons of patience and + resignation. We have been surrounded by many blessings, and yet perhaps, + have indulged in fretfulness. A slight loss has irritated us. We have + chafed at ordinary disappointments, at little interruptions in the current + of our prosperity. We have been in the habit of murmuring. And now this + great grief has overtaken us, that we may see at what little things we + have complained,—that we may learn that there is a meaning in + trouble which should make us calm,—that we had no right to these + gifts, the privation of which has offended us, but that all have flowed + from that mercy which we have slightly acknowledged, and peevishly + accused. This great sorrow has stricken us, piercing through bone and + marrow, in order to reach our hearts, and touch the springs of spiritual + life within us, that henceforth, we may look upon all sorrow in a new + light. Little troubles have only disturbed the surface of our nature, + making it uneasy, and tossing it into fretful eddies; this heavy calamity, + like a mighty wind, has plunged into the very depths, and turned up the + foundations, leaving us, at length, purified and serene. I believe we + shall find it to be the general testimony that those who have the least + trouble are the loudest complainers; while, often, the souls that have + been fairly swept and winnowed by sorrow are the most patient and + Christ-like. The pressure of their woe has broken down all ordinary + reliances, and driven them directly to God, where they rest in sweet + submission and in calm assurance. Such is the discipline which may be + wrought out for us by the departure of those we love. Such, and other + spiritual results, their vanishing may secure for us, which we never could + have gained by their presence; and so it may be said by some departing + friend,—some one most dear to our hearts,—in a reverent sense, + as the Master said to his disciples, "It is expedient for you that I go + away; for if I go not away the Comforter will not come unto you." + </p> + <p> + As I have already touched upon the region of speculation, I hardly dare + drop a hint which belongs here, though it grows out of a remark made under + the last head. But I will say that it is not unreasonable to suppose that + the departed may perform a more close and personal agency than this which + I have just dwelt upon. Often, it may be, they are permitted messengers + for our welfare; guardians, whose invisible wings shield us; teachers, + whose unfelt instructions mysteriously sway us. The child may thus + discharge an office of more than filial love for the bereaved parents. The + mother may watch and minister to her child. The father, by unseen + influences, win to virtue the heart of his poor prodigal. But whether this + be so or not, certain are we that the departed do discharge such an + agency, if not by spiritual contact with us, or direct labor in our + behalf, by the chastening influence that their memory sheds upon us, by + uplifting our thoughts, by spiritualizing our affections, by drawing our + souls to communion with things celestial and with God. + </p> + <p> + Let us see to it, then, that we improve this discipline; that we quench + not the holy aspiration which springs up in our sorrow; that we neglect + not the opportunity when our hearts are softened; that we continue the + prayer which first escaped our lips as a sigh and a call of distress; that + the baptism of tears lets us into the new life of reconciliation, and + love, and holiness. Otherwise, the discipline is of no avail, and, it may + be, we harden under it. + </p> + <p> + And, finally, let me say, that the faith by which we regard our relations + to the departed in the light that has been exhibited in this discourse, is + a faith that must be assimilated with our entire spiritual nature. It must + be illustrated in our daily conduct, and sanctify every thought and motive + of our hearts. We should not seek religion merely for its consolations, + and take it up as an occasional remedy. In this way religion is injured. + It is associated only with sorrow, and clothed, to the eyes of men, in + perpetual sadness. It is sought as the last resort, the heart's extreme + unction, when it has tried the world's nostrums in vain. It is dissociated + from things healthy and active,—from all ordinary experiences,—from + the great whole of life. It is consigned to the darkened chamber of + mourning, and the weary and disappointed spirit. Besides, to seek religion + only in sorrow,—to fly to it as the last refuge,—argues an + extreme selfishness. We have served the world and our own wills, we have + lived the life of the senses, and obeyed the dictates of our passions so + long as they could satisfy us, and now we turn to God because we find that + he only can avail us! We seek religion for the good it can do us, not for + the service we can render God. We lay hold of it selfishly, as something + instituted merely for our help, and lavish our demands upon it for + consolation, turning away sullen and skeptical, it may be, if these + demands are not immediately answered. Many come to religion for + consolation who never apply to it for instruction, for sanctification, for + obedience. Let us learn that we can claim its privileges only by + performing its duties. We can see with the eye of its clear, consoling + faith, only when it has spiritualized our entire being, and been developed + in our daily conduct. Affliction may open religious ideas in the soul, but + only by the soul's discipline will those ideas expand until they become + our most intimate life, and we habitually enjoy celestial companionship, + and that supersensual vision of faith by which we learn our relations to + the departed. + </p> + <p> + That faith let us receive and cherish. If we live it we shall believe it. + No sophistry can steal it from us, no calamity make us surrender it. But + the keener the trial the closer will be our confidence. Standing by the + open sepulchre in which we see our friends, "not dead, but sleeping," we + shall say to insidious skepticism and gloomy doubt, in the earnest words + of the poet, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "O! steal not thou my faith away, + Nor tempt to doubt a lowly mind. + Make all that earth can yield thy prey, + But leave this heavenly gift behind. + Our hope is but the seaboy's dream, + When loud winds rise in wrath and gloom; + Our life, a faint and fitful beam, + That lights us to the cold, dark tomb; + + Yet, since, as one from heaven has said, + There lies beyond that dreary bourn + A region where the faithful dead + Eternally forget to mourn, + Welcome the scoff, the sword, the chain, + The burning waste, the black abyss:— + I shrink not from the path of pain, + Which leads me to that world of bliss. + + Then hush, thou troubled heart! be still;— + Renounce thy vain philosophy;— + Seek thou to work thy Maker's will, + And light from heaven shall break on thee. + 'Twill glad thee in the weary strife, + Where strong men sink with falling breath;— + 'Twill cheer thee in the noon of life, + And bless thee in the night of death." +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE VOICES OF THE DEAD + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "And by it he being dead yet speaketh." Hebrews xi. 4. +</pre> + <p> + Much of the communion of this earth is not by speech or actual contact, + and the holiest influences fall upon us in silence. A monument or symbol + shall convey a meaning which cannot be expressed; and a token of some + departed one is more eloquent than words. The mere presence of a good and + holy personage will move us to reverence and admiration, though he may say + and do but little. So is there an impersonal presence of such an one; and, + though far away, he converses with us, teaches and incites us. The organs + of speech are only one method of the soul's expression; and the best + information which it receives comes without voice or sound. We hear no + vocal utterance from God, yet he speaks to us through all the forms of + nature. In the blue, ever-arching heaven he tells us of his comprehensive + care and tender pity, and "the unwearied sun" proclaims his constant and + universal benevolence. The air that wraps us close breathes of his + intimate and all-pervading spirit; and the illimitable space, and the + stars that sparkle abroad without number, show forth his majesty and + suggest infinitude. The gush of silent prayer—the sublimest mood of + the spirit—is when we are so near to him that words cannot come + between; and the power of his presence is felt the most, felt in the + profoundest deep of our nature, when the curtains of his pavilion hang + motionless around us. And it is so, I repeat, with all our best + communions. The holiest lessons are not in the word, but the life. The + virtues that attract us most are silent. The most beautiful charities go + noiseless on their mission. The two mites reveal the spiritual wealth + beneath the poor widow's weeds; the alabaster box of ointment is fragrant + with Mary's gratitude; the look of Christ rebukes Peter into penitence; + and by his faith Abel, being dead, yet speaketh. + </p> + <p> + Yes, even the dead, long gone from us, returning no more, their places + left vacant, their lineaments dimly remembered, their bodies mouldering + back to dust, even these have communion with us; and to speak of "the + voices of the dead" is no mere fancy. And it is to that subject that I + would call your attention, in the remainder of a brief discourse. + </p> + <p> + "He being dead yet speaketh." The departed have voices for us. In order to + illustrate this, I remark, in the first place, that the dead speak to us, + and commune with us, through the works which they have left behind them. + As the islands of the sea are the built-up casements of myriads of + departed lives,—as the earth itself is a great catacomb,—so we + who live and move upon its surface inherit the productions and enjoy the + fruits of the dead. They have bequeathed to us by far the larger portion + of all that influences our thoughts, or mingles with the circumstances of + our daily life. We walk through the streets they laid out. We inhabit the + houses they built. We practise the customs they established. We gather + wisdom from books they wrote. We pluck the ripe clusters of their + experience. We boast in their achievements. And by these they speak to us. + Every device and influence they have left behind tells their story, and is + a voice of the dead. We feel this more impressively when we enter the + customary place of one recently departed, and look around upon his work. + The half-finished labor, the utensils hastily thrown aside, the material + that exercised his care and received his last touch, all express him, and + seem alive with his presence. By them, though dead, he speaketh to us, + with a freshness and tone like his words of yesterday. How touching are + those sketched forms, those unfilled outlines in that picture which + employed so fully the time and genius of the great artist—Belshazzar's + feast! In the incomplete process, the transition-state of an idea from its + conception to its realization, we are brought closer to the mind of the + artist; we detect its springs and hidden workings, and therefore feel its + reality more than in the finished effort. And this is one reason why we + are impressed at beholding the work just left than in gazing upon one that + has been for a long time abandoned. Having had actual communion with the + contriving mind, we recognize its presence more readily in its production; + or else the recency of the departure heightens the expressiveness with + which everything speaks of the departed. The dead child's cast-off + garment, the toy just tossed aside, startles us as though with his renewed + presence. A year hence, they will suggest him to us, but with a different + effect. + </p> + <p> + But though not with such an impressive tone, yet just as much, in fact, do + the productions of those long gone speak to us. Their minds are expressed + there, and a living voice can do little more. Nay, we are admitted to a + more intimate knowledge of them than was possessed by their + contemporaries. The work they leave behind them is the sum-total of their + lives—expresses their ruling passion—reveals, perhaps, their + real sentiment. To the eyes of those placed on the stage with them, they + walked as in a show, and each life was a narrative gradually unfolding + itself. We discover the moral. We see the results of that completed + history. We judge the quality and value of that life by the residuum. As + "a prophet has no honor in his own country," so one may be misconceived in + his own time, both to his undue disparagement, and his undue exaltation; + therefore can another age better write his biography than his own. His + work, his permanent result, speaks for him better—at least truer—than + he spoke for himself. The rich man's wealth,—the sumptuous property, + the golden pile that he has left behind him;—by it, being dead, does + he not yet speak to us? Have we not, in that gorgeous result of toiling + days and anxious nights,—of brain-sweat and soul-rack,—the man + himself, the cardinal purpose, the very life of his soul? which we might + have surmised while he lived and wrought, but which, now that it remains + the whole sum and substance of his mortal being, speaks far more + emphatically than could any other voice he might have used. The expressive + lineaments of the marble, the pictured canvas, the immortal poem;—by + it, Genius, being dead, yet speaketh. To us, and not to its own time, are + unhoarded the wealth of its thought and the glory of its inspiration. When + it is gone,—when its lips are silent, and its heart still,—then + is revealed the cherished secret over which it toiled, which was + elaborated from the living alembic of the soul, through painful days and + weary nights,—the sentiment which could not find expression to + contemporaries,—the gift, the greatness, the lyric power, which was + disguised and unknown so long. Who, that has communed with the work of + such a spirit, has not felt in every line that thrilled his soul, in every + wondrous lineament that stamped itself upon his memory forever, that the + dead can speak, yes, that they have voices which speak most truly, most + emphatically when they are dead? So does Industry speak, in its noble + monuments, its precious fruits! So does Maternal Affection speak, in a + chord that vibrates in the hardest heart, in the pure and better sentiment + of after-years. So does Patriotism speak, in the soil liberated and + enriched by its sufferings. So does the martyr speak, in the truth which + triumphs by his sacrifice. So does the great man speak, in his life and + deeds, glowing on the storied page, so does the good man speak, in the + character and influence which he leaves behind him. The voices of the dead + come to us from their works, from their results and these are all around + us. + </p> + <p> + But I remark, in the second place, that the dead speak to us in memory and + association. If their voices may be constantly heard in their works, we do + not always heed them; neither have we that care and attachment for the + great congregation of the departed which will at any time call them up + vividly before us. But in that congregation there are those whom we have + known intimately and fondly, whom we cherished with our best love, who lay + close to our bosoms. And these speak to us in a more private and peculiar + manner,—in mementos that flash upon us the whole person of the + departed, every physical and spiritual lineament—in consecrated + hours of recollection that upon up all the train of the past, and re-twine + its broken ties around our hearts, and make its endearments present still. + Then, then, though dead, they speak to us. It needs not the vocal + utterance, nor the living presence, but the mood that transforms the scene + and the hour supplies these. That face that has slept so long in the + grave, now bending upon us, pale and silent, but affectionate still,—that + more vivid recollection of every feature, tone, and movement, that brings + before us the departed just as we knew them in the full flush of life and + health,—that soft and consecrating spell which falls upon us, + drawing in all our thoughts from the present, arresting, as it were, the + current of our being, and turning it back and holding it still as the + flood of actual life rushes by us,—while in that trance of soul the + beings of the past are shadowed—old friends, old days, old scenes + recur, familiar looks beam close upon us, familiar words reecho in our + ears, and we are closed up and absorbed with the by-gone, until tears + dissolve the film from our eyes, and some shock of the actual wakes us + from our reverie;—all these, I say make the dead to commune with us + as really as though in bodily form they should come out from the chambers + of their mysterious silence, and speak to us. And if life consists in + experiences, and not mere physical relations,—and if love and + communion belong to that experience, though they take place in meditation, + or in dreams, or by actual contact,—then, in that hour of + remembrance, have we really lived with the departed, and the departed have + come back and lived with us. Though dead, they have spoken to us. And + though memory sometimes induces the spirit of heaviness,—though it + is often the agent of conscience, and wakens u to chastise,—yet, it + is wonderful how, from events that were deeply mingled with pain, it will + extract an element of sweetness. A writer, in relating one of the + experiences of her sick-room, has illustrated this. In an hour of + suffering, when no one was near here, she went out from her bed and her + room to another apartment, and looked out upon a glorious landscape of + sunrise and spring-time. "I was suffering too much to enjoy this picture + at the moment," she says, "but how was it at the end of the year? The + pains of all those hours were annihilated,—as completely vanished as + if they had never been; while the momentary peep behind the window-curtain + made me possessor of this radiant picture for evermore." "Whence came this + wide difference," she asks, "between the good and the evil? Because good + is indissolubly connected with ideas,—with the unseen realities + which are indestructible." And though the illustration which she thus + gives may bear the impression of an individual personality, instead of a + universal truth, still, in the instance to which I apply it, I believe it + will very generally hold true, that memory leaves a pleasant rather than a + painful impression. At least, there is so much that is pleasant mingled + with it that we would not willingly lose the faculty of memory,—the + consciousness that we can thus call back the dead, and hear their voices,—that + we have the power of softening the rugged realities which only suggest our + loss and disappointment, by transferring the scene and the hour to the + past and the departed. And, as our conceptions become more and more + spiritual, we shall find the real to be less dependent upon the outward + and the visible,—we shall learn how much life there is in a thought,—how + veritable are the communions of spirit; and the hour in which memory gives + us the vision of the dead will be prized by us as an hour of actual + experience and such opportunities will grow more precious to us. No, we + would not willingly lose this power of memory. One would not say, "Let the + dead never come back to me in a thought, or a dream; let them never glide + before me in the still watch of meditation; let me see, let me hear them + no more, even in fancy;"—not one of us would say this; and, + therefore, it is evident, that whatever painful circumstance memory or + association may recall,—even though it cause us to go out and weep + bitterly,—there is a sacred pleasure, a tender melancholy, that + speaks to us in these voices of the dead, which we are willing to cherish + and repeat. It makes our tears soft and sanctifying as they fall; it makes + our hearts purer and better,—makes them stronger for the conflict of + life. + </p> + <p> + I remark, finally, that the dead speak to us in those religious + suggestions—those consolations, invitations, and hopes—which + the bereaved spirit indulges. Our meditations, concerning them naturally + draw us more closely to these spiritual realities which lie beyond the + grave, and beget in us those holier sentiments which we need. That such is + the tendency of these recollections experience assures us. They open for + us a new order of thought; they bring us in contact with the loftiest but + most neglected truths. Even the hardest heart feels this influence. It is + softened by the stroke of bereavement and, for the time being, a + chastening influence falls upon it, and it always thinks of the dead with + tenderness and awe. They speak to our affections with an irresistible + influence; they soothe our turbulent passions with their mild and holy + calmness; they rebuke us in their spiritual majesty for our sensuality and + our sin. They have departed, but they are not silent. Though dead, they + speak to us. Sweet and sanctifying is their communion with us. They utter + words of warning, too, and speak to us by the silent eloquence of example. + By this they bid us imitate all that was good in their lives, all that is + dear to remember. By this, too, they tell us that we are passing swiftly + from the earth, and hastening to join their number. A little while ago, + and they were as we are;—a little while hence, and we shall be as + they. Our work, like theirs, will be left behind to speak for us. How + important, then, that we consider what work we do! They assure us that + nothing is perpetual here. They bid us not fasten our affections upon + earth. In long procession they pass us by, with solemn voices telling of + their love and hatred, their interests and cares, their work and device;—all + abandoned now and passed away, as little worth as the dust that blows + across their graves. Upon all that was theirs, upon every memorial of + them, broods a melancholy dimness and silence. They recede more and more + from the associations of the living. New tides of life roll through the + cities of their habitation, and upon the foot-worn pavements of their + traffic other feet are busy. Their lovely labor, or their stately pomp, is + forgotten. No one weeps or cares for them. Their solicitous monuments are + unheeded. The companions of their youth have rejoined them. The young, who + scarcely remembered them, are giving way to another generation. The places + that knew them know them no longer. "This, this," their solemn voices + preach to us, "is the changeableness of earth, and the emptiness of its + pursuits!" They urge us to seek the noblest end, the unfailing treasure. + They bid us to find our hope and our rest, our only constant joy in Him, + who alone, amid this mutability and decay, is permanent,—in God! + </p> + <p> + Well, then, is it for us to listen to the voices of the dead. By so doing, + we are better fitted for life, and for death. From that audience we go + purified and strengthened into the varied discipline of our mortal state. + We are willing to stay, knowing that the dead are so near us, and that our + communion with them may be so intimate. We are willing to go, seeing that + we shall not be widely separated from those we leave behind. We will toil + in our lot while God pleases, and when he summons us we will calmly + depart. When the silver cord becomes untwined, and the golden bond broken,—when + the wheel of action stands still in the exhausted cistern of our life,—may + we lie down in the light of that faith which makes so beautiful the face + of the dying Christian, and has converted death's ghastly silence to a + peaceful sleep; may we rise to a holier and more visible communion, in the + land without a sin and without a tear; where the dead shall be closer to + us than in this life; where not the partition of a shadow, or a doubt, + shall come between. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MYSTERY AND FAITH + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "For we walk by faith, not by sight." II Corinthians v. 7. +</pre> + <p> + It needs only common experience, and but little of that, to convince us + that this life is full of mystery, and at every step we take demands of us + faith. For at every step we take we literally walk by faith; in every work + we do we must have confidence in something which is not by sight, in + something which is not yet demonstrated. Skepticism carried to its + ultimate consequences is the negation of everything. It closes up the + issues of all knowledge, and sunders every ligament that binds us to + practical life. We must have faith in something or we stand on no + promises; we can predicate nothing. It may be said that in the experience + of the past we have a guide for the future; but then, must we not have + faith in experience? Do we not trust something which is not yet + demonstrated when we say "This cause which produced that effect yesterday + will produce a similar effect today or tomorrow?" How do we know—positively + know, that it will produce that effect, and what are the grounds of our + knowledge? This boasted "cause and effect," this "experience," what right + have we to rely upon it for one moment of the future? Not for that moment + has it demonstrated anything;—it demonstrated for the time being, + and the time being only; and our confidence that it will do so again is + faith, not sight—faith in cause and effect, faith in experience, but + faith after all. Hume, the philosopher, has illustrated the positions + which have now been taken. "As to past experience," says he, "it can be + allowed to give direct and certain information of those precise objects + only, and that precise period of time which fell under its cognizance; but + why this experience should be extended to future times, and to other + objects, which for aught we know may be only in appearance similar; this + is the main question on which I would insist. The bread which I formerly + ate nourished me; that is, a body of such sensible qualities was, at that + time, endued with such secret powers; but does it follow that other bread + must also nourish me at another time, and that like sensible qualities + must also be attended with like secret powers? The consequence seems + nowise necessary." And yet we eat our bread, day by day, without a doubt + or a fear. We sow the grain and we reap the wheat, but for all the work is + done in faith, and the whole process is steeped in mystery. In that + scattering of the golden seed, what confidence is expressed in elements + that we cannot see, in beneficent agencies that we cannot control, in + results that are beyond our power, and that in their growth and + development are full of wonder exceeding our wisdom. Give up faith; say + that we will act only upon that which is demonstrated and known, say that + we will walk only so far as sight reaches, and we completely separate the + present from the future, and stop all the mechanism of practical life. + </p> + <p> + But if we take a wider view of things, and consider this material universe + in which we live, the great fact of mystery and the need of faith will be + urged upon us by a larger and more impressive teaching. The more we learn + of nature the more clearly is revealed to us this fact—that we know + less than we thought we did; positively, we know more, but relatively we + know less, because as we have advanced nature has stretched out into wider + and wider relations. The department that was unknown to us yesterday is + explored to-day. Yesterday, we thought it was all that remained to be + explored, but the torch of investigation that guided us through it now + flares out upon new regions we did not see before. Like one who goes with + a candle into some immense cavern, presently a little circle becomes + clear, the shadows vanish before him, and undefined forms grow distinct, + he thinks he is near the end, when lo! what seemed a solid boundary of + rock dissolves and floats away into a depth of darkness, the path opens + into an immense void, new shapes of mystery start out, and he learns this + much that he did not know before, that instead of being near the end, he + is only upon the threshold. We do not mean to imply by this that we have + no positive knowledge, or that we do not increase in knowledge. With every + new discovery we positively know more and more. But the new discovery + reveals the fact that more is yet to be known; it lays open new regions, + it unfolds new relations that we had not before suspected. + </p> + <p> + We follow some tiny thread a little way, and hold it secure, but it is + connected with another ligament, and this branches out into a third; and + instead of exhausting the matter, we find ourselves at the root of an + infinite series, of an immense relationship, upon which we have only just + opened; and yet what we have is positive knowledge, is something more + added to our stock. The circle of the known has positively widened, but + the horizon of the unknown has widened also, and, instead of being to us + now, as it seemed some time ago, a solid and ultimate limit, it is only an + ethereal wall, only to us a relative boundary, and behind are infinite + depths and mystery. Our scientific knowledge at the present day reaches + this grand result—it clears up the deception that the system of + nature is mere flat, dead materiality, a few mechanical laws, a few rigid + forms. It shows that these are only the husks, the outer garments of + mighty forces of subtile, far-reaching agencies; and the most common, + every-day truths, that seemed stale and exhausted, become illuminated with + infinite meaning, and are the blossoms of an infinite life. + </p> + <p> + The wider our circle of discovery, the wider our wonder; the more + startling our conclusions, the more perplexing our questions. We have not + exhausted the universe;—we have just begun to see its harmony of + proportion and of relations, without penetrating a fathom into its real + life. How and what is that power that works in the shooting of a crystal, + and binds the obedience of a star; that shimmers in the northern Aurora, + and connects by its attraction the aggregated universe; that by its unseen + forces, its all-prevalent jurisdiction, holds the little compass to the + north, blooms in the nebula and the flower, weaves the garment of earth + and the veil of heaven, darts out in lightning, spins the calm motion of + the planets, and presides mysteriously over all motion and all life? And + what is life, and what is death, and what a thousand things that we touch, + and experience, and think we know all about? O! as science, as nature + opens upon us, we find mystery after mystery, and the demand upon the + human soul if for faith, faith in high, yes, in spiritual realities; and + this materialism that would shut us in to death and sense, that denies all + spirit and all miracle, is shattered like a crystal sphere, and the soul + rushes out into wide orbits and infinite revolutions, into life, and + light, and power, that are of eternity,—that are of God! + </p> + <p> + Thus the scale is prepared for us to rise from things of sense to things + of spirit, to rise from faith in nature to faith in Revelation, from the + faith of LaPlace to the faith of Paul. No one who has studied nature will + reject Christianity because it reveals truths that he cannot see with his + naked eye,—because it speaks of things that he cannot comprehend. No + one who has considered the shooting of a green blade will dogmatically + deny its miracles. No one who has found in the natural world the + intelligent wisdom that pervades all things, will wonder that he discovers + a revelation of perfect love in Jesus Christ. "We walk by faith, not by + sight," said Paul. So says every Christian; and it is of all things the + most rational. Faith in something higher and greater than we can see, + faith in something above this narrow scene, faith in something beyond this + present life, faith in realities that are not of time or sense; from all + that we have now considered we claim such faith to be most rational, most + natural. God, spirit, immortality, instead of being inconsistent with what + we know, are what we most legitimately deduce from it,—what we might + expect from the light that trembles behind the curtain of mystery which + bounds all our sensuous knowledge. We do believe, the veriest skeptic + believes in something behind that curtain of mystery; nor can he withhold + his faith because it attaches to that which is unseen and + incomprehensible, without, as has already been shown, cutting every nerve + that binds us to practical life, and smothering every suggestion that + speaks from outward nature. If he do not believe in a God, then, or in + Christ, or in immortality, let him not sneer at others because they walk + by faith and not by sight; for he also must do so, though his faith be not + in such high truths, such spiritual realities. + </p> + <p> + The Christian's faith is an Infinite Father and an immortal life, and + though he cannot see them, cannot come in material contact with them, he + believes them to be the greatest of all realities, and he sees them by + faith, a medium as legitimate as that of sight. They are mysteries, but + everything contains a mystery; they demand of him what every day's, every + hour's events demand of him—faith. Let us understand, however, that + faith is not the surrendering of our minds to that which is irrational and + inconsistent. These terms should not be confounded with the mysterious and + the incomprehensible. That the earth moves and yet stands still is not a + proposition that demands faith. It is in the province of reason to say + that it cannot move and stand still at the same time. It is an + inconsistency. But how the earth moves on its axis, what is that law that + makes it move, is an incomprehensibility. An incomprehensibility is one + thing, an inconsistency is another thing. The one conflicts with our + reason, the other is beyond it. In that which conflicts with our reason we + cannot have faith, but as to that which is beyond it we exercise faith + every day; for we literally walk by faith and not by sight. + </p> + <p> + Who shall say, then, that God, immortality, and those high truths revealed + by Jesus, are inconsistent? Do they not conform to the highest reason? Do + not our deepest intuitions demand that these revelations should be true? + Consult your nature, examine your own heart, consider what you are, what + you want, what you feel, deeply want, keenly feel, and then say whether + the Revelation of a God, a Father, and an immortal life, satisfies you as + nothing else can. Take them away, and would there not be a dreary and + overwhelming void? And because you have not seen God, because you have not + realized immortality, because they reach beyond your present vision, + because the grave shuts you in, because they are high and transcendent + truths, will you reject them? Do so, and try to walk by sight alone. With + that nature of yours, so full of love, with that intellect of yours so + limitless in capacity, you are apparently a child of the elements, a thing + of physical nature, born of the dust, and returning to it. With desires + that reach out beyond the stars, with faculties that in this life just + begin to bud, with affections whose bleeding tendrils cling around the + departed, wrestle with death, and say to the grave, "Give up the dead! + they are not thine, but mine; I feel they must be mine forever," with all + these desires, capacities, affections, you walk—so far as mere sight + helps you—among graves and decay, with nothing more enduring, + nothing better, than three-score years and ten, the clods of the valley, + the crumbling bone, and the dissolving dust! Because God and immortality + are mysterious, incomprehensible, reject them, and walk only by sight? The + humblest outpouring of human affection rebukes thy skepticism; the most + narrow degree of human intellect prophesies beyond all this; the darkest + heart, with that spark of eternal life, the yearning that moves beneath + all its sensualities, and speaks for better, for more enduring things,—that + rebukes thee; and in man's moral nature, in his heart and his mind, there + is that which only can be satisfied, only can be explained by God and + immortality. They alone, then, are rational, they alone have comprehensive + vision, who walk by faith, and not by sight. + </p> + <p> + Mystery and faith, then; let what we have said concerning these be not + alone for the skeptic, but for the Christian who has faith but cannot + fully justify and confirm it, or who feels it faltering under some heavy + burden, or who is overwhelmed by the magnitude of the truths to which it + attaches, or who wishes, with a kind of half-doubt, that these things + might be seen and felt. They are great, they are incomprehensibly great; + but are they therefore untrue? Does not your heart of hearts tell you they + are true? Does not that Revelation of Christ steal into your soul and feed + it, satisfy it, as nothing else can, with a warm, benignant power, that + makes you know its truth? + </p> + <p> + Mysteries are all about us, but faith sees light beyond and around them + all. Have you recently laid down the dead in their place of rest? Cold and + crushing, then, is that feeling of vacancy, that dreary sense of loss, + that rushes upon you, as you look through the desolate chambers without,—through + the desolate chambers of the heart within. But will not He who calls out + from the very dust where yon sleepers lie the flowers of summer, and who, + in the snows that enwrap their bed, cherishes the germs of the glorious + springtime, will not He who works out this beautiful mystery in nature + bring life back from the tomb, and light out of darkness? It is truly a + great mystery; but everything within us responds to it as reasonable; and + though it demands our faith, who, who, in this limited and changing world, + can walk by sight alone? + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Crown of Thorns, by E. H. Chapin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CROWN OF THORNS *** + +***** This file should be named 1959-h.htm or 1959-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/5/1959/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/1959.txt b/1959.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..23d2250 --- /dev/null +++ b/1959.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3898 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Crown of Thorns, by E. H. Chapin + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Crown of Thorns + A Token for the Sorrowing + +Author: E. H. Chapin + +Posting Date: November 17, 2008 [EBook #1959] +Release Date: November, 1999 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CROWN OF THORNS *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + + + + + +THE CROWN OF THORNS + +A TOKEN FOR THE SORROWING + + +by E. H. Chapin + + + + +PREFACE. + + +One of the discourses in this volume--"The Mission of Little +Children"--was written just after the death of a dear son, and was +published in pamphlet form. The edition having become exhausted sooner +than the demand, it was deemed advisable to reprint it; and accordingly +it is now presented to the reader, accompanied by others of a similar +cast, most of them growing out of the same experience. This fact will +account for any repetition of sentiment which may appear in these +discourses, especially as they were written without any reference to one +another. + +To the sorrowing, then, this little volume is tendered, with the +author's sympathy and affection. Upon its pages he has poured out some +of the sentiments of his own heartfelt experience, knowing that they +will find a response in theirs, and hoping that the book may do a work +of consolation and of healing. If it impresses upon any the general +sentiment which it contains,--the sentiment of religious resignation and +triumph in affliction; if it shall cause any tearful vision to take the +Christian view of sorrow; if it shall teach any troubled soul to +endure and hope; if it shall lead any weary spirit to the Fountain of +consolation; in one word, if it shall help any, by Christ's strength, +to weave the thorns that wound them into a crown, I shall be richly +rewarded, and, I trust, grateful to that God to whose service I dedicate +this book, invoking his blessing upon it. + +E. H. C. + +May, 1860 + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + THE THREE TABERNACLES + THE SHADOW OF DISAPPOINTMENT + LIFE A TALE + THE CHRISTIAN VIEW OF SORROW + CHRISTIAN CONSOLATION IN LONELINESS + RESIGNATION + THE MISSION OF LITTLE CHILDREN + OUR RELATIONS TO THE DEPARTED + THE VOICES OF THE DEAD + MYSTERY AND FAITH + + + + +THE THREE TABERNACLES + + +And Peter answered and said to Jesus, Master, it is good for us to +be here: and let us make three tabernacles, one for thee, and one for +Moses, and one for Elias. MARK ix. 5. + + +Caught up in glory and in rapture, the Apostle seems to have forgotten +the world from which he had ascended, and to which he still belonged, +and to have craved permanent shelter and extatic communion within the +mystic splendors that brightened the Mount of Transfiguration. But it +was true, not only as to the confusion of his faculties, but the purport +of his desire, that "he knew not what he said." For even "while he yet +spake," the cloud overshadowed them, the heavenly forms vanished, they +found themselves with Jesus alone, and an awful Voice summoned them from +contemplation to duty,--from vision to work. + +Peter knew not what he said. He would have converted the means into an +end. He and his fellow-disciples had been called to follow Christ not +that they might see visions, but had been permitted to see visions that +they might follow Christ. Just previous to that celestial interview, +Jesus had announced to them his own painful doom, and had swept away +their conceit of Messianic glories involved with earthly pomp and +dominion, by his declaration of the self-denial, the shame, and the +suffering, which lay in the path of those who really espoused his cause +and entered into his kingdom. They needed such a revelation as this, +then, upon the Mount of Transfiguration, to support them under the +stroke which had shaken their earthly delusion, and let in glimpses of +the sadder truth. It was well that they should behold the leaders of the +old dispensation confirming and ministering to the greatness of the new, +and the religion which was to go down into the dark places of the earth +made manifest in its authority and its source from Heaven. It was +well that they should see their Master glorified, that they might be +strengthened to see him crucified. It was well that Moses and Elias +stood at the font, when they were about to be baptized into their +apostleship of suffering, and labor, and helping finish the work which +these glorious elders helped begin. But that great work still lay before +them, and to rest here would be to stop upon the threshold;--to have +kept the vision would have thwarted the purpose. Upon a far higher +summit, and at a far distant time--with fields of toil and tracts of +blood between--would that which was meant as an inspiration for their +souls become fixed for their sight, and tabernacles that should never +perish enclose a glory that should never pass away. + +You may have anticipated the lessons for ourselves which I propose to +draw from this unconsidered request of Peter. At least, you will readily +perceive that it does contain suggestions applicable to our daily life. +For I proceed, at once, to ask you if it is not a fact that often we +would like to remain where, and to have what, is not best for us? Do not +illustrations of this simple thought occur easily to your minds? Does +not man often desire, as it were, to build his tabernacles here or +there, when due consideration, and after-experience will convince him +that it was not the place to abide; that it was better that the good +be craved, or the class of relations to which he clung, should not be +permanent? In order to give effect to this train of reflection, let +me direct you to some specific instances in which this desire is +manifested. + +Perhaps I may say, without any over-refinement upon my topic, that +there are three things in life to which the desires of men especially +cling,--three tabernacles which upon the slope of this world they +would like to build. I speak now, it is to be remembered, of desires of +impulse, not of deliberation,--of desires often felt, if not expressed. +And I say, in the first place, that there are certain conditions in life +itself that it sometimes appears desirable to retain. Sometimes, from +the heart of a man, there breaks forth a sigh for perpetual youth. In +the perplexities of mature years,--in the experience of selfishness, and +hollowness, and bitter disappointment; in the surfeit of pleasure; in +utter weariness of the world,--he exclaims, "O! give me back that sweet +morning of my days, when all my feelings were fresh, and the heart was +wet with a perpetual dew. Give me the untried strength; the undeceived +trust; the credulous imagination, that bathed all things in molten +glory, and filled the unknown world with infinite possibilities." Sad +with skepticism, and tired with speculation, he cries out for that faith +that needed no other confirmation than the tones of a mother's voice, +and found God everywhere in the soft pressure of her love; and when his +steps begin to hesitate, and he finds himself among the long shadows, +and the frailty and fear of the body overcome the prophecies of the +soul, and no religious assurance lights and lifts up his mind, how he +wishes for some fountain of restoration that shall bring back his bloom +and his strength, and make him always young! "Why have such experiences +as decline, and decay, and death?" he asks. "Is it not good for us to be +ever young? Why should not the body be a tabernacle of constant youth, +and life be always thus fresh, and buoyant, and innocent, and confiding? +Or, if we must, at last, die, why all this sad experience,--this +incoming of weakness,--this slipping away of life and power?" + +But this is a feeling which no wise or good man ever cherishes long, +for he knows that the richest experiences, and the best achievements of +life, come after the period of youth; spring out of this very sadness, +and suffering, and rough struggle in the world, which an unthinking +sentimentality deplores. Ah, my friends, in spite of our trials, +our weariness, our sad knowledge of men and things; in spite of the +declining years among which so many of us are standing, and the tokens +of decay that are coming upon us; nay, in spite even of our very sins; +who would go back to the hours of his youthful experience, and have the +shadow stand still at that point upon the dial of his life? Who, for the +sake of its innocence and its freshness, would empty the treasury of his +broader knowledge, and surrender the strength that he has gathered in +effort and endurance? Who, for its careless joy, would exchange the +heart-warm friendships that have been annealed in the vicissitudes of +years,--the love that sheds a richer light upon our path, as its vista +lengthens, or has drawn our thoughts into the glory that is beyond the +veil? Nay, even if his being, has been most frivolous and aimless, or +vile,--in the penitent throb with which this is felt to be so, there is +a. spring of active power which exists not in the dreams of the +youth; and the sense of guilt and of misery is the stirring, of a life +infinitely deeper than that early flow of vitality and--consciousness +which sparkles as it runs. Build a tabernacle for perpetual youth, and +say, "It is good to be here?" It cannot be so; and it is well that it +cannot. Our post is not the Mount of Vision, but the Field of Labor; and +we can find no rest in Eden until we have passed through, Gethsemane. + +Equally vain is the desire for some condition in life which shall be +free from care, and want, and the burden of toil. I suppose most people +do, at times, wish for such a lot, and secretly or openly repine at the +terms upon which they are compelled to live. The deepest fancy in the +heart of the most busy men is repose--retirement-command of time and +means, untrammeled by any imperative claim. And yet who is there that, +thrown into such a position, would find it for his real welfare, and +would be truly happy? Perhaps the most restless being in the world is +the man who need do nothing, but keep still. The old soldier fights all +his battles over again, and the retired merchant spreads the sails of +his thought upon new ventures, or comes uneasily down to snuff the air +of traffic, and feel the jar of wheels. I suppose there is nobody whose +condition is so deplorable, so ghastly, as his whose lot many may be +disposed to envy,--a man at the top of this world's ease, crammed +to repletion with what is called "enjoyment;" ministered to by every +luxury,--the entire surface of his life so smooth with completeness that +there is not a jut to hang, a hope on,--so obsequiously gratified +in every specific want that he feels miserable from the very lack of +wanting. As in such a case there, can be no religious life--which never +permits us to rest in a feeling of completeness; which seldom abides +with fulness(sic) of possession, and never stops with self, but always +inspires to some great work of love and sacrifice--as in such a case +there can be no religious life, he fully realizes the poet's description +of the splendor and the wretchedness of him who + + + " * * built his soul a costly pleasure-house + Wherein at ease for aye to dwell;" + +and who said + + " * * O soul, make merry and carouse + Dear soul, for all is well. + + * * * * * * * + + Singing and murmuring in her feastful mirth, + Joying to feel herself alive, + Lord over nature, lord of the visible earth, + Lord of the 'senses five + + "Communing with herself:, 'All these are mine, + And let the world have peace or wars, + 'T is one to me,' * * * * * + + * * * * * So three years + She throve, but on the fourth she fell, + Like Herod, when the shout was in his ears, + Struck through with pangs of hell." + + +The truth is, there is no one place, however we may envy it, which would +be indisputably good for us to occupy; much less for us to remain in. +The zest of life, like the pleasure which we receive from a work of art, +or from nature, comes from undulations--from inequalities; not from +any monotony, even though it be the monotony of seeming perfection. The +beauty of the landscape depends upon contrasts, and would be lost in +one common surface of splendor. The grandeur of the waves is in the deep +hollows, as well as the culminating crests; and the bars of the sunset +glow on the background of the twilight. The very condition of a great +thing is that it must be comparatively a rare thing. We speak of summer +glories, and yet who would wish it to be always summer?--who does not +see how admirably the varied seasons are fitted to our appetite for +change? It may seem as if it would be pleasant to have it always +sunshine; and yet when fruit and plant are dying from lack of moisture, +and the earth sleeps exhausted in the torrid air, who ever saw a summer +morning more beautiful than that when the clouds muster their legions to +the sound of the thunder, and pour upon us the blessing of the rain? +We repine at toil, and yet how gladly do we turn in from the lapse of +recreation to the harness of effort! We sigh for the freedom and glory +of the country; but, in due time, just as fresh and beautiful seem to +us the brick walls and the busy streets where our lot is cast, and +our interests run. There is no condition in life of which we can say +exclusively "It is good for us to be here." Our course is appointed +through vicissitude,--our discipline is in alternations; and we can +build no abiding tabernacles along the way. + +But, I observe, in the second place, that there are those who may +discard the notion of retaining any particular condition of life and yet +they would preserve unbroken some of its relations. They may not keep +the freshness of youth, or prevent the intrusion of trouble, or shut out +the claims of responsibility, or the demands for effort;--they may not +achieve anything of this kind; and they do not wish to achieve it; but +they would build a tabernacle to LOVE, and keep the objects of dear +affection safe within its enclosure. "Joy, sorrow, poverty, riches, +youth, decay, let these come as they must," say they, "in the flow of +Providence; but let the heart's sanctuaries remain unbroken, and let us +in all this chance find the presence and the ministration of those we +love." And, common as the sight is, we must always contemplate with a +fresh sadness this sundering of family bonds; this cancelling(sic) of +the dear realities of home; this stealing in of the inevitable gloom; +this vacating of the chair, the table, and the bed; this vanishing of +the familiar face into darkness; this passage from communion to +memory; this diminishing of love's orb into narrower phases,--into a +crescent,--into a shadow. Surely, however broad the view we take of the +universe, a real woe, a veritable experience of suffering, amidst this +boundless benificence, reaching as deep as the heart's core, is this old +and common sorrow;--the sorrow of woman for her babes, and of man for +his helpmate, and of age for its prop, and of the son for the mother +that bore him, and of the heart for the hearts that once beat in +sympathy, and of the eyes that hide vacancies with tears. When these +old stakes are wrenched from their sockets, and these intimate cords are +snapped, one begins to feel his own tent shake and flap in the wind that +comes from eternity, and to realize that there is no abiding tabernacle +here. + +But ought we really to wish that these relations might remain unbroken, +and to murmur because it is not so? We shall be able to answer this +question in the negative, I think,--however hard it may be to do +so,--when we consider, in the first place, that this breaking up and +separation are inevitable. For we may be assured that whatever in the +system of things is inevitable is beneficent. The dissolution of these +bonds comes by the same law as that which ordains them; and we may be +sure that the one--though it plays out of sight, and is swallowed up in +mystery--is as wise and tender in its purpose as the other. It is very +consoling to recognize the Hand that gave in the Hand that takes a +friend, and to know that he is borne away in the bosom of Infinite +Gentleness, as he was brought here. It is the privilege of angels, and +of a faith that brings us near the angels, to always behold the face of +our Father in Heaven; and so we shall not desire the abrogation of this +law of dissolution and separation. We shall strengthen ourselves to +contemplate the fact that the countenances we love must change, and the +ties that are closest to our hearts will break; and we shall feel that +it ought to be, because it must be,--because it is an inevitability in +that grand and bounteous scheme in which stars rise and set, and life +and death play into each other. + +But, even within the circle of our own knowledge, there is that which +may reconcile us to these separations, and prevent the vain wish of +building perpetual tabernacles for our human love. For who is prepared, +at any time, to say that it was not better for the dear friend, and +better for ourselves, that he should go, rather than stay;--better for +the infant to die with flowers upon its breast, than to live and have +thorns in its heart;--better to kiss the innocent lips that are still +and cold, than to see the living lips that are scorched with guilty +passion;--better to take our last look of a face while it is pleasant +to remember--serene with thought, and faith, and many charities--than +to see it toss in prolonged agony, and grow hideous with the wreck of +intellect? And, as spiritual beings, placed here not to be gratified, +but to be trained, surely we know that often it is the drawing up of +these earthly ties that draws up our souls; that a great bereavement +breaks the crust of our mere animal consciousness, and inaugurates a +spiritual faith; and we are baptized into eternal life through the cloud +and the shadow of death. + +But, once more, I remark, that there are those who may say, "We do not +ask for any permanence in the conditions of life; we do not ask that +even its dearest relationships should be retained; but give, O! give +us ever those highest brightest moods of faith and of truth, which +constitute the glory of religion, and lift us above the conflict and +the sin of the world!" No truly religious mind can fail to perceive the +gravitation of its thoughts and desires, and the contrast between its +usual level and its best moments of contemplation and prayer. And it. +may indeed seem well to desire the prolongation of these experiences; to +desire to live ever in that unworldly radiance, close to the canopy +of God,--in company with the great and the holy,--in company with the +apostles and with Jesus,--on some Mount of Transfiguration, in garments +whiter than snow, and with faces bright as the sun; and the hard, bad, +trying world far distant and far below. Does not the man of spiritual +sensitiveness envy those sainted ones who have grown apart, in pure +clusters, away above the sinful world, blossoming and breathing +fragrance on the very slopes of heaven? + +And yet, is this the complete ideal of life? and is this the way in +which we are to accomplish its true end? I think we may safely say that +even the brightest realizations of religion should be comparatively +rare, otherwise we forget the work and lose the discipline of our mortal +lot. The great saints--the men whose names stand highest in the calendar +of the church universal--are not the ascetics, not the contemplators, +not the men who walked apart in cloisters; but those who came down from +the Mount of Communion and Glory, to take a part in the world; who have +carried its burdens in their souls, and its scars upon their breasts; +who have wrought for its deepest interests, and died for its highest +good; whose garments have swept its common ways, and whose voices have +thrilled in its low places of suffering and of need;--men who have +leaned lovingly against the world, until the motion of their great +hearts jars in its pulses forever; men who have gone up from dust, and +blood, and crackling fire; men with faces of serene endurance and lofty +denial, yet of broad, genial, human sympathies;--these are the men who +wear starry crowns, and walk in white robes, yonder. + +We need our visions for inspiration, but we must work in comparative +shadow; otherwise, the very highest revelations would become monotonous, +and we should long for still higher. And yet, are there not some whose +desire is for constant revelation? Who would see supernatural sights, +and hear supernatural sounds, and know all the realities towards which +they are drifting, as well as those in which they must work? They would +make this world a mount of perpetual vision; overlooking the fact that +it has its own purposes, to be wrought out by its own light, and within +its own limits. For my part, I must confess that I do not share in +this desire to know all about the next world, and to see beforehand +everything that is going to be. I have no solicitude about the mere +scenery and modes of the future state. But this desire to be in the +midst of perpetual revelations argues that there is not enough to fill +our minds and excite our wonder here; when all things around us are +pregnant with suggestion, and invite us, and offer unfathomed depths for +our curious seeking. There is so much here, too, for our love and our +discipline; so much for us to do, that we hardly need more revelations +just now;--they might overwhelm and disturb us in the pursuit of +these appointed ends. Moreover, the gratification of this desire would +foreclose that glorious anticipation, that trembling expectancy, which +is so fraught with inspiration and delight,--the joy of the unknown, the +bliss of the thought that there is a great deal yet to be revealed. + +We do need some revelation; just such as has been given;--a glimpse of +the immortal splendors; an articulate Voice from heaven--a view of the +glorified Jesus; a revelation in a point of time, just as that on the +mount was in point of space. We need some; but not too much,--not all +revelation; not revelation as a customary fact. If so, I repeat, we +should neglect this ordained field of thought and action. We should live +in a sphere of supernaturalism,--in an atmosphere of wonder,--amid +a planetary roll of miracles; still unsatisfied; still needing the +suggestion of higher points to break the stupendous monotony. + +And I insist that work, not vision, is to be the ordinary method of our +being here, against the position of those who shut themselves in to a +contemplative and extatic piety. They would escape from the age, and its +anxieties; they would recall past conditions; they would get into the +shadow of cloisters, and build cathedrals for an exclusive sanctity. +And, indeed, we would do well to consider those tendencies of our time +which lead us away from the inner life of faith and prayer. But this +we should cherish, not by withdrawing all sanctity from life, but by +pouring sanctity into life. We should not quit the world, to build +tabernacles in the Mount of Transfiguration, but come from out the +celestial brightness, to shed light into the world,--to make the whole +earth a cathedral; to overarch it with Christian ideals, to transfigure +its gross and guilty features, and fill it with redeeming truth and +love. + +Surely, the lesson of the incident connected with the text is clear, +so far as the apostles were concerned, who beheld that dazzling, +brightness, and that heavenly companionship, apart on the mount. +They were not permitted to remain apart; but were dismissed to their +appointed work. Peter went to denial and repentance,--to toil and +martyrdom; James to utter his practical truth; John to send the fervor +of his spirit among the splendors of the Apocalypse, and, in its calmer +flow through his Gospel, to give us the clearest mirror of the Saviour's +face. + +Nay, even for the Redeemer that was not to be an abiding vision; and he +illustrates the purport of life as he descends from his transfiguration +to toil, and goes forward to exchange that robe of heavenly, brightness +for the crown of thorns. + +What if Jesus had remained there, upon that Mount of Vision, and himself +stood before us as only a transfigured form of glory? Where then would +be the peculiarity of his work, and its effect upon the world? + +On the wall of the Vatican, untarnished by the passage of three +hundred years, hangs the masterpiece of Raphael,--his picture of the +Transfiguration. In the centre, with the glistening raiment and the +altered countenance, stands Jesus, the Redeemer. On the right hand and +on the left are his glorified visitants; while, underneath the bright +cloud, lie the forms of Peter, and James, and John, gazing at the +transfigured Jesus, shading their faces as they look. Something of the +rapture and the awe that attracted the apostles to that shining spot +seems to have seized the soul of the great artist, and filled him with +his greatest inspiration. But he saw what the apostles, at that moment, +did not see, and, in another portion of his picture, has represented the +scene at the foot of the hill,--the group that awaited the descent of +Jesus.. The poor possessed boy, writhing, and foaming, and gnashing +his teeth,--his eyes, as some say, in their wild rolling agony, already +catching a glimpse of the glorified Christ above; the baffled disciples, +the caviling scribes, the impotent physicians, the grief-worn father, +seeking in vain for help. Suppose Jesus had stayed upon the mount, what +would have become of that group of want, and helplessness, and +agony? Suppose Christ had remained in the brightness of that vision +forever,--himself only a vision of glory, and not an example of toil, +and sorrow, and suffering, and death,--alas! For the great world at +large, waiting at the foot of the hill--the groups of humanity in +all ages;--the sin-possessed sufferers--the caviling skeptics; the +philosophers, with their books and instruments; the bereaved and frantic +mourners in their need! + +So, my hearers, wrapped in the higher moods of the soul, and wishing +to abide among upper glories, we may not see the work that waits for us +along our daily path; without doing which all our visions are vain. We +must have the visions. We need them in our estimate of the world around +us,--of the aspects and destinies of humanity. There are times +when justice is balked, and truth covered up, and freedom trampled +down;--when we may well be tempted to ask, "What is the use of trying +to work?"--when we may well inquire whether what-we are doing is work +at all. And in such a case, or in any other, one is lifted up, and +inspired, and enabled to do and to endure all things, when in steady +vision he beholds the everliving God,--when all around the injustice, +and conflict, and suffering of the world, he detects the Divine +Presence, like a bright cloud overshadowing. O! then doubt melts away, +and wrong dwindles, and the jubilee of victorious falsehood is but a +peal of drunken laughter, and the spittings of guilt and contempt no +more than flakes of foam flung against a hero's breast-plate. Then one +sees, as it were, with the vision of God, who looked down upon the old +cycles, when a sweltering waste covered the face of the globe, and huge, +reptile natures held it in dominion;--who beholds the pulpy worm, +down in the sea, building the pillars of continents;--so one sees the +principalities of evil sliding from their thrones, and the deposits +of humble faithfulness rising from the deep of ages. Our sympathy, our +benevolent effort in the work of God and humanity, how much do they need +not only the vision of intellectual foresight, but of the faith which, +on bended knees, sees further than the telescope! + +And alas! for him who, in his personal need and effort, has no margin of +holier inspiration--no rim of divine splendor---around his daily life! +Without the vision of life's great realities we cannot see what our work +is, or know how to do it. + +But such visions must be necessarily rare and transient, or we shall +miss their genuine efficacy. We must work in comparative shadow, without +the immediate sight of these realities; and only in the place of our +rest,--rest for higher efforts and a new career,--only there may we have +their constant companionship, and build their perpetual tabernacles. + + + + +THE SHADOW OF DISAPPOINTMENT. + + But we trusted that it had been he which should have + redeemed Israel. LUKE xxiv. 21. + + +In the accounts of the disciples, contained in the New Testament, there +is no attempt to glorify them, or to conceal any weakness. From the +first to the last, they think and act precisely as men would think and +act in their circumstances;--they are affected just as others of like +culture would be affected by such events as those set forth in the +record. And the genuineness of their conduct argues the genuineness of +the incidents which excited it. The divine, wonderworking, risen Jesus, +is the necessary counterpart of the amazed, believing, erring hoping, +desponding, rejoicing fishermen and publicans. This stamp of reality is +very evident in the instance before us. The conduct and the feelings of +the disciples are those of men who have been involved in a succession of +strange experiences. For a little while they have been in communion with +One who has spoken as never man spoke, and who has touched the deepest +springs of their being. He has lifted them out of the narrow limits +of their previous lives. From the Receipt of Customs, and the Galilean +lake, he has summoned them to the interests and awards, the thought and +the work, of a spiritual and divine kingdom. At first following him, +perhaps they hardly knew why, conscious only that he had the Words of +Eternal Life, the terms of this discipleship have grown into bonds of +the dearest intimacy. Their Master has become their Companion and their +Friend, and their faith has deepened into tender and confiding love. But +still, theirs has been the belief of the trusting soul, rather than the +enlightened intellect. From the fitness of the teaching, and the wonder +of the miracle, they have felt that he was the very Christ; and yet, +from this conviction of the heart they have not been able to separate +their Jewish conceits. Sometimes, it may be, the language of the Saviour +has carried them up into a broader and more spiritual region; but +then, they have subsided into their symbols and shadows;--only, +notwithstanding the errors that have hindered, and the hints that have +awed them, they have steadily felt the inspiration of a great hope, the +expectation of something glorious to be revealed in the speedy coming +of the Messiah's kingdom. And now, does not the account immediately +connected with the text picture for us exactly the state of men whose +conceptions have been broken up by a great shock, and yet in whose +hearts the central hope still remains and vibrates with mysterious +tenacity?--men who have had the form of their expectation utterly +refuted and scattered into darkness, but who still cherish its spirit? +Christ the crowned King,--Christ the armed Deliverer,--Christ the +Avenger, sweeping away his foes with one burst of miracle,--is to +them, no more. They saw the multitude seize him, and no legions came to +rescue;--they saw him condemned, abused, crucified, buried; and so, +in no sense of which they could conceive, was this he who should +have redeemed Israel. And yet the suggestion of something still to +come,--something connected with three days,--lingered in their minds. +And, in the midst of their despondency, striking upon this very chord, +the startling rumor reached them that Christ had risen from the dead. It +was in this mood that Jesus found the two disciples whose words I +have selected for my text;--faith and doubt, disappointment and hope, +alternating in their minds; their Jewish conceit laid prostrate in the +dust, and yet the expectation of something, they knew not what, now +strangely confirmed. See how these feelings mingle in the passage before +us. "What manner of communications," said the undiscerned Saviour, "are +these that ye have one to another, as ye walk, and are sad?"-"Art thou +only a stranger in Jerusalem," says one of them, "and hast not known +the things which are come to pass there in these days?" What things? +"Concerning Jesus of Nazareth," replied they, "which was a prophet +mighty in deed and word before God and all the people: and how the chief +priests and our rulers delivered him to be condemned to death, and have +crucified him. But we trusted that it had been he which should have +redeemed Israel: and beside all this, to-day is the third day since +these things were done. Yea, and certain women also of our company made +us astonished, which were early at the sepulchre; and when they found +not his body, they came, saying, that they had also seen a vision of +angels, which said that he was alive. And certain of them which were +with us went to the sepulchre, and found it even so as the women had +said: but him they saw not." + +My hearers, I think we see, in this instance the minds of these +disciples working as the minds of men might be expected to work under +like conditions. And to me this casts a complexion of genuineness upon +the transactions which, as stated in the record, account for these +mental alternations. The entire passage is alive with reality. The +genuine emotions of humanity play and thrill together, there, in the +shadow of the cross and the glory of the resurrection. + +But, if these feelings are thus natural, the experience itself indicated +in that portion of this verse which constitutes the text is not entirely +removed from our ordinary life. The incident which occasioned these sad +words was an extraordinary one; but its moral significance, as it now +comes before us, illustrates many a passage in man's daily course. +The language, as we read it, appears to be the language of +disappointment;---it was under the shadow of disappointment, though +alternating with hope, that these disciples spoke; and it is to the +lessons afforded by disappointment in the course of life that I now +especially invite your attention. + +And the precise point in the text, bearing upon this subject, is the +fact, that while the disciples seemed to feel as though all redemption +for Israel was now hopeless, that process of redemption for Israel, +and for the world, was going on through the agency of those very events +which had filled them with dismay. Even as they were speaking, in tones +of sadness, about the crucified Christ, the living Christ, made perfect +for his work by that crucifixion, was walking by their side. Looking far +this side of that shadow of disappointment which then brooded over +them, we see all this, that then they did not see; but now is it with +ourselves, under the frequent shadows cast by more ordinary events? This +suggestion may afford us some profitable thoughts. + +I need hardly say, in the first place, that man is continually inspired +by expectation. Every effort he makes is made in the conviction of +possibility and the light of hope. This is the heart of ambition and +the spring of toil. It is the balm which he applies to the wounds of +misfortune. It is the key with which he tries the wards of nature. And +from the morning of life to its last twilight he is always looking. +forward. The saddest spectacle of all--sadder even than pain, and +bereavement, and death--is a man void of hope. The most abject people +is a hopeless people, in whose hearts the memories of the past, and the +pulses of endeavor, and the courage of faith are dead, and who crouch by +their own thresholds and the crumbling tombstones of their fathers, and +take the tyrant's will, without an incentive, and without even a dream. +The most intense form in which misery can express itself is in the +phrase, "I have nothing to live for." And he who can actually say, +and who really feels this, is dead, and covered with the very pall and +darkness of calamity. But few, indeed, are they who can, with truth, say +this. + +But if hope or expectation is such a vital element of human experience, +so does disappointment have its part in the mechanism of things, and, +as we shall presently see, its wise and beneficial part. For, after all, +how few things correspond with the forecast of expectation! To be sure, +some results transcend our hope; but how many fall below it,--balk +it,--turn out exactly opposite to it! Among those who meet +with disappointments in life, there are those who are expecting +impossibilities,--whose expectations are inordinate,--are more than the +nature of things will admit; or who are looking for a harvest where +they have planted no seed. They carry the dreams of youth in among the +realities of the world, and its vanishing visions leave them naked and +discouraged. The light of romance, that glorified all things in the +future, recedes as they advance, and they come upon rugged paths of +fact--upon plain toil and daily care,--upon the market and the field, +and upon men as they are in their weakness, and their selfishness, and +their mutual distrust. Or they belong, it may be, to that class who +are too highly charged with hope; whose sanguine notions never go by +induction, but by leaps; who never calculate the difficulties, but only +see the thing complete and rounded in imagination;--men with plenty +of poetry, and no arithmetic; whose theories work miracles, but whose +attempts are failures. It is pleasant, sometimes, to meet with people +like these, who, clothed in the scantiest garments, and with only a +crust upon their tables, at the least touch of suggestion, mount into a +region of splendor. Their poverty all fades away;--the bare walls, +the tokens of stern want, the dusty world, are all transfigured with +infinite possibilities. Achievement is only a word, and fortune comes in +at a stride. The palace of beauty rises, fruits bloom in waste places, +gold drops from the rocks, and the entire movement of life becomes a +march of jubilee. And they are so certain this time,--the plan they now +have is so sure to succeed! I repeat, it is pleasant, sometimes, to have +intercourse with such men, who throw bloom and marvelousness upon +the actualities of the world, from the reservoirs of their sanguine +invention. At least, it is pleasant to think how this faculty of +unfailing enthusiasm enables them to bear defeat, and to look away from +the cold face of necessity;--to think that, while so many are trudging +after the sounding wheels and the monotonous jar of life, and lying down +by the way to die, these men are marching buoyantly to a tune inside. +And yet this is pleasant only from a hasty point of view. These people +meet with disappointment, of course; and it is sad to think how many +lives have come to absolutely nothing, and are all strewn over, from +boyhood to the grave, with the fragments of splendid schemes. It is sad +to think how all their visionary Balbecs and Palmyras have been reared +in a real desert,--the desert of an existence producing no substantial +thing. And among these vanishing dreams, and on that melancholy waste, +they learn, at last, the meaning of their disappointment. And from +their experience, we too may learn, that we are placed here to be +not merely ideal artists, but actual toilers; not cadets of hope, but +soldiers of endeavor. + +But there are disappointments in life that succeed reasonable +expectation; and these are the hardest of all to bear. I say the +expectation is reasonable; and yet, very possibly, the bitterness of the +disappointment comes from neglecting to consider the infirmity of all +earthly things. It is hard when, not dreaming, but trying our best, we +fail. It is hard to bear the burden and heat of the day, through all +life's prime, and yet, with all our toil, to earn no repose for its +evening hours. It is hard to accumulate a little gain, baptizing every +dollar with our honest sweat, and then have it stricken from our grasp +by the band of calamity or of fraud. It is hard, when we have placed our +confidence in man's honor, or his friendship, to find that we are fools, +and that we have been led in among rocks and serpents. And hard indeed +is it to see those who were worthy our love and our faith drop by +our side, and leave us alone. This dear child, the blossom of so many +hopes,--hard is it to see him die--to fold all our expectation in his +little shroud, and lay it away forever. We thought it had been he who +should have comforted and blessed us,--in whose life we could have +retraced the cycle of our own happiest experience,--whose unfolding +faculties would have been a renewal of our knowledge, and his manhood +not merely the prop but the refreshing of our age. This companion of our +lot,--this wedded wife of our heart,--why taken away now? She has shared +our early struggles, and tempered our anxiety with cheerful assurance. +She has tasted the bitterness; we thought she would have been a partner +of the joy. She has borne our fretfulness, and helped our perplexity, +and shed a serene light into our gloom; We thought she would have been +with us when we could pay the debt of faithfulness; when the cares of +business did not press and disturb us so. We thought it was she whose +voice, sweet with the music of old, deep memories, would have consoled +us far along; and that, in some calm evening of life, when all the +tumult of the world was still, and we were ready to go, we should +go--not far apart--gently to our graves. + +Such are the plans that we lay out, saying of this thing and of that +thing, "We trusted that it would have been so." But the answer has been +disappointment. The old, ay, perhaps the most common lesson of life, is +disappointment. + +And now I ask, is it not an intended lesson? Evidently it comes in as +an element in the Providential plan in which we are involved. For we +see its disciplinary nature,--its wise and beneficial results in harmony +with that Plan. Consider whether it is not the fact, that the entire +discipline of life grows out of a succession of disappointments. That +youthful dream, in which life has stretched out like a sunny landscape +with purple mountain-chains--is it not well that it is broken up, and we +strike upon rugged realities? Does not all the strength of manhood, and +the power of achievement, and the glory of existence, depend upon these +things which are not included in the young boy's vision of a happy +world. Welcome, O! disappointment of our hope that life would prove a +perpetual holiday. Welcome experience of the fact that blessing comes +not from pleasure, but from labor! For in that experience alone was +there ever anything truly great or good accomplished. We can conceive no +possible way by which one can be made personally strong without his +own effort;--no possible way by which the mind can be enriched and +strengthened where it is lifted up, instead of climbing for itself;--no +way, therefore, in which life could be at all a worthy achievement, +if it were merely a plain of ease, instead of holding every ward of +knowledge and of power under the guard of difficulty and the requisition +of endeavor. + +And it is equally true that the greatest successes grow out of great +failures. In numerous instances the result is better that comes after a +series of abortive experiences than it would have been if it had come at +once. For all these successive failures induce a skill, which is so much +additional power working into the final achievement. Nobody passes at +once to the mastery, in any branch of science or of industry; and when +he does become a master in his work it is evident, not only in the +positive excellence of his performance, but in the sureness with which +he avoids defects; and these defects he has learned by experimental +failures. The hand that evokes such perfect music from the instrument +has often failed in its touch, and bungled among the keys. And if a man +derives skill from his own failures, so does he from the failures of +other men. Every unsuccessful attempt is, for him, so much work done; +for he will not go over that ground again, but seek some new way. Every +disappointed effort fences in and indicates the only possible path of +success, and makes it easier to find. We should thank past ages and +other men, not only for what they have left us of great things done, +but for the heritage of their failures. Every baffled effort for freedom +contributes skill for the next attempt, and ensures the day of victory. +Nations stripped and bound, and waiting for liberty under the shadow of +thrones, cherish in memory not only the achievements of their heroes, +but the defeats of their martyrs; and when the trumpet-voice shall +summon them once more, as surely it will,--when they shall draw for +the venture of freedom, and unroll its glittering standard to the +winds,--they will avoid the stumbling blocks which have sacrificed the +brave, and the errors which have postponed former hopes. In public +and in private action, it is true that disappointment is the school of +achievement, and the balked efforts are the very agents that help us to +our purpose. + +And, if life itself--life as a whole--seems to us but a series of +disappointments, is not this the very conviction we need to work out +from it, through our own experience? Do we not need to learn that this +life itself is not sufficient, and holds no blessing that will fill us +completely, and with which we may forever rest? The baffled hopes of our +mortal state;--what are they but vain strivings of the human soul, out +of the path of its highest good? The wandering bird, driven against +the branches, and beaten by the storm, flutters at last to the clear +opening, by which it mounts above the cloud, and finds its way to its +home. This life is not ordained in vain;--it is constituted for a grand +purpose, if through its lessons of experience we become convinced that +this life is not all. In the outset of our existence here, and merely +from the teaching of others, we cannot comprehend the great realities of +existence. + +How the things that have grown familiar to our eyes, and the lessons +that have sounded trite upon our ears, become fresh and wonderful, as +life turns into experience! How this very lesson of disappointment lets +us in to the deep meanings of Scripture, for instance! The Christ of +our youth,--a personage standing mild and beautiful upon the +Gospel-page,----a being to admire and love; how be develops to our later +thought! how solemnly tender, how greatly real, he becomes to us, when +we cling to him in the agony of our sorrow, and he goes down to walk +with us on the waters of the sea of death! As traditional sentiment,--as +a wholesome subject for school-composition,--we have spoken and written +of the weariness of the world-worn heart, and the frailty of earthly +things. But, O! when our hearts have actually become worn, and tried; +when we begin to learn that the things of this life are evanescent,--are +dropping away from us, and we slipping from them,--what inspiration of +reality comes to us in the oft-heard invitation, "Come unto me, all ye +that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest!" What a depth +of meaning flowing from the eternal world, in the precept we have read +so carelessly,--"Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where +moth and rust doth corrupt, and thieves break through and steal!" Thus +the best results of life come from the defeats and the limitations that +are involved with it. + +And, in all this, observe how disappointment is the instrument of higher +blessings. See how thus life itself suggests a higher good than life +itself can yield. And so the attitude of the disciples, after the +crucifixion, illustrates many experiences of our earthly lot. Those +incidents which perplexed and grieved them were securing the very +results they seemed to prevent. So, in our ordinary life, the things +that appear most adverse to us are often the most favorable. + + I may say, indeed, that to any man who is rightly exercised +by it, disappointment always brings a better result. But this statement +requires that I should say, likewise, that the result of disappointment +depends upon the level and quality of a man's spirit. "One thing happens +alike to the wise man and the fool." But how different in texture and +substance is the final result of the event! Disappointment breaks down +a feeble and shallow man. There are those, again, whom it does not make +better,--in fact, whom nothing, as we can see, makes better. Everything +glides easily off from them. Now, it is a noble thing to see a man rise +above misfortune,--a moral Prometheus, submissive to the actual will of +God, but defying fate. But there are men whose very elasticity indicates +the superficiality of their nature. For it is good sometimes to be +sad,--good to have depth of being sufficient for misfortune to sink +into, and, accomplish its proper work. But the man who rightly receives +the lesson of disappointment, and improves by its discipline, bent as +he is on some great or good work, is impelled by it only to a change +of method,--never to a change of purpose; and the disappointment +effectually serves the purpose. But the fact before us is most clearly +seen when we contemplate the results of disappointment upon a religious +and un-religious spirit. A man is not made better by disappointment to +whom this world is virtually everything;--to whom spiritual things are +not realities. To him life is a narrow stream between jutting crags, and +its substance flows away with the objects before his eyes. Nay, some men +of this sort are made worse by the failure of earthly hopes, and their +natures are compressed and hammered by misfortune into a sullen and +granitic defiance. But he who sees beyond these material limits, looking +to the great end and final relations of our being, always extracts from +mortal disappointment a better result. In the wreck of external things +he gathers that spiritual good which is the substance of all life;--that +faith, and patience, and holy love, which, when all that is mortal +and incidental in our humanity passes away, constitute the residuum of +personality. + +Our hopes disappointed,--our plans thwarted and overthrown; but out +of that disappointment a richer good evolving than we had conceived; +something that tends more than all our effort to produce the real object +of life. My friends, what do we make out of this fact? Why, surely this, +that life is not our plan, but God's. Consider what we, often, would +have made out of life, and compare this with what Providence has made +out of it. Contrast the man's achievement with the boy's scheme; +the dream of care with the moral glory that has sprung from toil +and trouble. Contrast the idea of the Saviour in the minds of those +disciples with the actual Saviour rising victorious from the conditions +of shame and death. + +Life is God's plan; not ours. We may find this out only by effort; but +we do find it out. + +We are responsible for the use of our materials, but the materials +themselves, and the great movement of things, are furnished for us. +Let us fall into no ascetic view of life. Out of our joy and our +acknowledged good the Supreme Disposer works his spiritual ends. But, +especially, how often does he do this out of our trials, and sorrows, +and so-called evils! Once more I say life is God's plan; not ours. +For often on the ruins of visionary hope rises the kingdom of our +substantial possession and our true peace; and under the shadow of +earthly disappointment, all unconsciously to ourselves, our Divine +Redeemer is walking by our side. + + + + +LIFE A TALE + + + We spend our years as a tale that is told. Psalm xc.9. + + +We bring our years to an end like a thought, is the proper rendering of +these words, according, to an eminent translator. But as the essential +idea of the Psalmist is preserved in the common version, I employ it +as peculiarly illustrative and forcible. It will be my object, in +the present discourse, to show the fitness of the comparison in the +text;--to suggest the points of resemblance between human life and a +passing narrative. + +I observe, then, in the first place, that the propriety of this simile +is seen in the brevity of life. What more rapid and momentary than a +story? It is heard, and passes. Though it beguiles us for the time, +it dies away in sound, or melts from before, the eye. And this I say, +strikingly illustrates the brevity of life. The brevity of life! It is +a trite truth, and yet how little realized! Probably there is nothing, +more common, and yet there is nothing, more pernicious, than the habit +of virtual dependence upon length of days. Thus the best ends of our +mortal being are lost sight of; the solemn circumstances, the suggestive +mysteries of life, are misconstrued. The heavens, which give a myriad +hints of worlds beyond the grave, are, to many, impenetrable walls, +shutting them in to mere pursuits of sense,--the upholstery of a +workshop or bazaar; and this earth, which is but a step,--a filmy +platform of our immortal course,--is to them the solid abiding place of +all interest, and of all hope. + +It is well, then, to break in upon this worldly reliance,--to consider +how fleeting and uncertain are the things in which we garner up so much. +Therefore, in order that we may more vividly realize the brevity of +life,--how like it is to a passing tale,--let us consider the rapidity +of its changes, even in a few short years. We are, to some degree, made +aware how fast the current of time bears us on, when we pause and remark +the shores; when we observe how our position to-day has shifted from +what it was yesterday; how the sunny slopes of youth have been changed +for the teeming uplands of maturity; yea, perhaps, how already the +stream is narrowing, and rushing more swiftly as it narrows, towards +those high hills that bound our present vision, upon whose summits +lingers the departing light, and around whose base thickens the solemn +shadow. + +This rapidity of change is most strikingly illustrated when, after a few +years' absence, we return to the scenes of our youth. We plunged into +the current of the world, buoyant and vigorous; our thoughts have been +occupied every hour, and we have not noticed the stealthy shadow of +time. But we come back to that early spot, and look around. Lo! The +companions of our youth have grown into dignified men,--the active and +influential citizens of the place. Care has set + + "Busy wrinkles round their eyes." + +They meet us with formal deportment, or with an ill-concealed +restlessness, as though we hindered them in their work,--work! Which, +when we parted with them, would have been flung to the winds for any +idle sport. How quickly they have changed into this gravity and anxiety! +On the other hand, those who stood where they stand now,--whose names +occupied the signs and the records which theirs now fill,--have passed +away, or, here and there, come tottering along, bent and gray-headed +men. Those, too, who were mere infants-those whom we never saw-take up +our old stations, and inspire them with the gladness of childhood. And +exactly thus have we changed to others. We are a mirror to them and they +to us. + +From this familiar experience, then, let us realize that the stream of +life does not stop, nor are we left stationary, but carried with it; +though our condition may appear unchanged, until we lift up our eyes, +and look for the old landmarks. The brevity of our life! my friends. +Amid our daily business,--in the sounding tumult of the great mart, and +the absorption of our thoughts,--do we think of it? Do we perceive how +nearly we approach a goal which a little while ago seemed far before +us? Do we observe how quickly we shoot by it? Do we mark with what +increasing swiftness the line of our life seems reeling off, and how +close we are coming to the end? Time never stops! Each tick of the clock +echoes our advancing footsteps. The shadow of the dial falls upon it +a shorter and shorter tract, which we have yet to pass over. Even if a +long life lies before us, let us consider that thirty-five years is high +noon with us,--the meridian of that arc which comprehends but threescore +years and ten! + +But we may be more vividly impressed with the fact of the brevity of +life, if we adopt some criterion wider than these familiar measurements. +The narrative, the story, engages our ears, in the pauses of care and +labor. We listen to it in the noonday rest, and around the evening fire. +It is a slight break in the monotony of our business,--an interlude in +the solemn march of life. And thus, in some respects, is life itself. +It is so, if we take into view a long series of existence, such as the +succession of human generations, or, still more, the periods of creative +development, and the computations of time as applied to the forms and +changes of the material universe. In this vast train of being, our +individual existence, however important to ourselves, is but an +interlude-a tale. Let us, then, for a while, lay aside any conventional +method of estimating our life,--a method in which that life fills a +large space, simply because it is brought near to the eye,--and let us +endeavor to take a view of it, as it were, from the fixed stars, or from +the elevation of the immortal state. + +Compare, then, if you will, this life of yours or mine, not with the +personal standard of threescore years and ten, but with the whole course +of human history; and instantly we appear but as bubbles in the stream +of ages. But, again, consider how history itself is as "a tale that is +told;" and then, indeed, what a mere incident in it all is your life +and mine! If we stand off at the distance of a few centuries, so that we +have no present interest in them, it is strange how the proudest empires +assume an empty and spectral aspect. Their growth and decline occupied +ages; but what a brief achievement it appears now! Why puzzle ourselves +about their origin, or seek to disengage the true from the fabulous in +their history? Why strain laboriously to settle names, and dates, and +dynasties? What mere point they have occupied in the processes of +the great universe! Their hieroglyphic pillars, their gray old +pyramids;--what are they to the age of Uranus, or the new planet? Each +of these empires fulfilled its mission, and relatively that mission was +a great one; but in the long sweep of God's providence, and among the +phenomena of absolute being, what a brief link, a subordinate climax, it +was! The huge ribs of the earth, and the coral islands of the sea were +longer in building; and even these are transitory manifestations of +God's purposes, which stream around us through constant change +and succession. And what, then, are these nations-these epochs of +humanity-but waves rising and breaking on the great sea of eternity? +Mysterious Egypt, haughty Assyria, glorious Greece, kingly Rome;--how +spectral they have become. They stand out in no relief. As we recede +from them, they sink back, flat and inanimate on the horizon. Each is a +tale that has been told. Surely, then, if such is the life of nations, +I need not labor to impress upon you a sense of the brevity of our +individual existence. + +But, for a moment, turn your thoughts to estimates that far exceed the +periods of history, and confound all our ordinary measurements. What is +our mortal existence, into which we crowd so much interest,--over the +anticipated length of which we slumber,--into whose uncertain future +we project our lithe plans so confidently,--compared to the age of the +heavens,--the lifetime of worlds?--compared to their march, from the +moment when they obeyed the creative fiat to that when they shall +complete their great cycle? It takes three years for light to travel +from the nearest fixed star to the earth; from another it takes twelve +years; while, on its journey from a star of the twelfth magnitude, +twenty four billions of miles away, it consumes four thousand years. And +yet we speak of long life! Why, when the light that wraps us now shall +be changed for the light that is just leaping from that distant star, +where in the gray bosom of the past shall we be? Sunken, forgotten, +crumbled to imperceptible atoms; the ashes of generations-the dust of +empires-heaped over us! And when we compare those wide estimates to +that divine eternity that evolves and limits all things, how does our +individual existence on the earth dwindle and vanish!--a heart-throb +in the pulses of the universal life,--a quivering leaf in the forest of +being,--"a tale that is told"! + +And yet, my friends, our realization of existence is so intense,--the +horizon of the present shuts us in so completely,--that it really +requires an effort for us to pause and remember that we are such +transitory beings. It cannot be (we may unconsciously reason), that we +to whom this earth is bound with ligaments so intimate and strong; whose +breathing and motion-whose contact and action here-are such realities; +whose ears hear these varying sounds of life; whose eyes drink in this +perpetual and changing beauty; to whom business, study, friendship, +pleasure, domestic relations, are such fresh and constant facts; to whom +the dawn and the twilight, the nightly slumber and the daily meal, are +such regular experiences; to whom our possessions, our houses, lands, +goods, money, are such substantial things;--it cannot be that we are +not fixed permanently here,--that the years like a swift river, sweep us +nearer and nearer to a point where we must sink and leave it all,--that +the corridors of the earth echo our footsteps only as the footsteps of +a successive march-myriads going before, and myriads coming after us-and +soon they will catch no more murmurs of our individual life; for that +will be as "a tale that is told." + +The whole train of thought I am now pursuing strikes us with peculiar +force, in reading the biographies of men who have lived intensely, who +have realized the fulness of life, who have mingled intimately with its +varied experiences, and occupied a large place in it. We see how to them +life was, as it is to us, an absorbing fact,--how they have planned, and +thought, and acted, as though they were to live forever; and yet we have +noticed the premonitions of change, the dropping away of friends, the +failing of vigor, the deepening of melancholy shadows, and the coming +of the end; the business closed, the active curiosity and intermeddling +ceased, the familiar haunts abandoned, the home made desolate, the +lights put out, the cup fallen beneath the festal board, and all the +earnest existence stopped forever. And this, too, so quick,--filling so +small a space in absolute time! From their illustration let us, then, +realize that our life, too, amid all these real conditions, is unfolding +rapidly to an end, and is "as a tale that is told." + +But life is like a tale that is told, because of its comprehensiveness. +It is a common characteristic of a narrative that it contains a great +deal in a small compass. It includes many years, and expresses many +results. Sometimes it sweeps over different lands, and exhibits the +peculiarities of various personages. In one word, it is characterized by +comprehensiveness. And this, I repeat, is also a characteristic of human +life. When the consideration of the brevity of our mortal existence +excites us to diligence it is well; but when we make it an argument for +indolence, disgust, and despair, we should be reminded of the fact I +am now endeavoring to illustrate,--the fact that even the briefest life +contains a great deal, and means a great deal; and that, if we estimate +things by a spiritual standard, a man's earthly being may contain more +than all the cycles of the material world. From the best point of view, +life is not merely a term of years and a span of action; it is a force, +a current and depth of being. Indeed, considered in its most literal +sense, as the vital spark of our animal organism, it is something more +than a measurement of time;--it is a mysterious, informing essence. No +man has yet been able to tell us what it is, where it resides, or how +it acts. We only know that when we gaze upon the features of the dead +we see there the same organs that pertained to the living; but something +has gone,--something of light, power, motion; and that something we call +life. + +But it is chiefly in a moral sense that I make the remark that life is +something more than a term of years or a span of action. In fact, life +is a sum of spiritual experiences; and thus one act, or result, often +contains more than a century of time. Who does not understand the fact +to which I now refer? Who has not felt something of it? Has not each one +of us, at times, realized that he lived a year in a single day,--in +a moment,--in an emotion or thought? Nay, could that experience be +measured by any estimate of time? And if we should compute the length of +any life by such experiences, and not by a succession of years, would +it not be a long life? At least, would it not be a full and immeasurable +life? + +But, while every man's history will furnish instances of what I mean, +let us, for the sake of clearer illustration, consider some of the +experiences which are common to all. Defining life to be depth and +intensity of being, then,--a current of spiritual power, and not a mere +succession of incidents,--how much we live when we acquire the knowledge +of a single truth! What an inexhaustible power!--what an immeasurable +experience it is! We are made absolutely stronger by it; we receive more +life with it,--a new and imperishable fibre of being. Fortune cannot +pluck it from us, age cannot weaken it, death cannot set limits to +it. And now, with the fulness of this one experience as a test, just +consider our whole mortal experience as filled up with such revelations +of truth. Suppose we improve all our opportunities; into what boundless +life does education admit us, and the discoveries of every day, and the +ordinary lessons of the world! Tell me, is this life to be called merely +a brief and worthless fact, when by a little reading, for instance, I +can make the experience of other men, and lands, and ages, all mine? +When in some favored hour, I can climb the starry galaxy with Newton, +and pace along the celestial coast to the great harmony of numbers and +unlock the mighty secret of the universe? When of a winter's night, +I can pass through all the belts of climate, and all the grades of +civilization on our globe; scan its motley races, learn its diverse +customs, and hear the groaning of lonely ice-fields and the sigh of +Indian palms? When, with Bacon, I can explore the laboratory of nature, +or with Locke, consult the mysteries of the soul? When Spenser can lead +me into golden visions, or Shakespeare smite me with magic inspiration, +or Milton bathe me in immortal song? When History opens for me all the +gates of the past,--Thebes and Palmyra, Corinth and Carthage, Athens +with its peerless glory, and Rome with its majestic pomp?--when kings +and statesmen, authors and priests, with their public deeds and secret +thoughts are mine? When the plans of cabinets, and the debates of +parliaments, and the course of revolutions, and the results of battle, +are all before my eyes and in my mind? When I can enter the inner +chamber of sainted souls, and conspire with the efforts of moral heroes, +and understand the sufferings of martyrs? Say, when all these deep +experiences-these comprehensive truths-may be acquired through merely +one privilege, is life but a dream, or a breath of air? Thus, too, +do immeasurable experiences flow in to me from nature,--from planet, +flower, and ocean. Thus, too, does more life come to me from contacts +in the common round of action. And, I repeat, every truth thus gained +expands a moment of time into illimitable being,--positively enlarges +my existence, and endows me with a quality which time cannot weaken or +destroy. + +Consider, again, how much we really live in cherishing good affections, +and in performing noble deeds. We have the familiar lines of the poet, +to this point: + + "One self-approving hour whole years outweighs + Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas." + +It is true. There is more life in one "self-approving hour,"-one act of +benevolence,--one work of self-discipline,--than in threescore years and +ten of mere sensual existence. Go out among the homes of the poor, lift +up the disconsolate, administer comfort to the forlorn; in some way, as +it may come across your path, or lie in the sphere of your duty, do a +deed of kindness; and in that one act you shall live more than in a year +of selfish indulgence and indolent ease,--yea, more than in a lifetime +of such. The poet, with his burning, immortal lines, while doing his +work, lives all the coming ages of his fame. From every marble feature +he chisels, the sculptor draws an intensity of being that cannot be +imparted by a mere extension of years. The philanthropist, in his walks +of mercy and his ministrations of love, lives more comprehensively +than another may in a century. His is the fathomless bliss of +benevolence,--the experience of God. The martyr, in his dying hour, with +his face shining like an angel's, does not live longer, but he lives +more than all his persecutors. + +Consider, too, the experiences of religion, of worship, of prayer. In +the act of communion with God, in the realization of immortality, in the +aspirations and the idea of perfection, there is a depth and scope of +being from which all sensual estimates of time drop away. + +Our mortal life, then, is very comprehensive. If we measure it, not by +its length of years, but by its spiritual results, be they good or evil, +it is a full and large life. It then appears, like the immortal state, +not as a fact of succession, but of experience. Christ has defined +eternal life as such a fact. "Eternal life," he says, "is to know thee, +the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent." The life of +the blessed in heaven is not marked by years and cycles; it is not so +much protracted being, as a power of knowledge,--a depth of glad and +holy consciousness,--a constant pulsation of harmony with God. + +Again, every life may be compared to "a tale that is told," because it +has a plot. In the narrative there is a combination of agencies +working to a crisis. There is a main-point with which all the action is +involved. And so every human life has its main-point.. I will not +now take up time to carry out this illustration minutely. The mere +suggestion that each one is working out a peculiar destiny invests even +the meanest life with a solemn dignity, and counteracts any disparaging +argument drawn from its brevity. + +But still I would urge, that the propriety of this comparison between +the peculiar tendency of an individual life and the plot of a story, is +seen in the fact that every man is accomplishing a certain moral result +in and for himself. This is inevitable. We may be inactive, but that +result is forming; the mould of habit is growing, and the inward life +is unfolding itself, after its kind. We may think our career is +aimless, but all things give a shape to our character. And does not this +consideration make our mortal life of deep consequence to us? + +All circumstances and experiences are chiefly important as affecting +this result. One of the highest views we can take of the universe is +that of a theatre for the soul's education. We are placed upon this +earth not to be absorbed by it, but to use it for the highest spiritual +occasions. We are placed among the joys and sorrows of our daily lives +to be trained for immortal issues. Our business, our domestic duties, +and all our various relations, constitute a school for our souls. Here +our affections and our powers are acted upon for good or for evil. +Grief strengthens our faith and elevates our thoughts; joy quickens +our gratitude, our obedience, and our trust; temptation forms in us an +exalted and spontaneous virtue, or enfeebles and enslaves us. Chiefly, +then, should we be solicitous about character, the plot of our life; +and in this solicitude our earthly existence rises to the highest +importance. + +Let us, then, feel that our mortal career is not vague and aimless. Let +us realize that each life is a special history. The poorest, the most +obscure, has such a history; and although it may be unnoticed by men, +angels regard it with interest. The merchant, every day, in the dust, +and heat, and busy maze of traffic, unfolds a history. The beggar by the +way-side, it may be, outrivals kings in the grandeur and magnitude of +his history. In sainted homes,--in narrow nooks of life,--in the secret +heart of love, and prayer, and patience,--many a tale is told which +God alone sees, and which he approves. The needy tell a tale, in their +unrelieved wants and unpitied sufferings. The oppressed tell a tale, +that goes up into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth. The vicious tell a +tale of wo, and misspent opportunity, and wasted power. Let us think of +it, I beseech you! Each one of us in his sphere of action is developing +a plot which surely tells in character,--which is fast running into a +great fixed fact. + +Once more, we may compare every life to "a tale that is told," because +it has a moral. Any story, good or bad,--the most pernicious work of +fiction, the most flimsy narrative, as the grandest history,--has its +significance. So it is with the life of a man. As all his conduct +he is building up the intrinsic results of character for +himself,--establishing in his own soul a fabric of welfare or of wo,--so +is he furnishing a lesson for others, and accomplishing an end by which +they are affected. The purpose for which any one has lived, the point +which he has attained, the personal history which he has unfolded, +constitute the moral of his life. + +For instance, here is a man whose life is frivolous,--divided between +aimless cares and superficial enjoyments. He has no resources in +himself, no fountain of inward peace and joy. His spirit leaps like new +wine in the whirl of exciting pleasure, but in the hour of solitude and +of golden opportunity, it is "flat, stale, and unprofitable." He marks +off the year by its festivals, and distributes the day into hours of +food, rest, and folly. In short, he holds no serious conception of life, +and he is untouched by lofty sentiment. The great drama of existence, +with its solemn shifts of scenery and its impending grandeur, is but a +pantomime to him; and he a thoughtless epicurean, a grinning courtier, +a scented fop, a dancing puppet, on the mighty stage. And surely, such +a life, a life of superficiality and heartlessness, a life of silken +niceties and conventional masquerade, a life of sparkling effervescence, +has a moral. It shows us how vain is human existence when empty of +serious thought, of moral purpose, and of devout emotion. + +Another is a skeptic. He has no genuine faith in immortality, in +virtue, or in God. To him, life is a sensual opportunity closing up with +annihilation and to be enjoyed as it may. It is a mere game, and he who +plays the most skilful(sic) hand will win. Virtue is a smooth decency, +which it is well to assume in order to cover and artful selfishness; +and it is a noteworthy fact, too, that, in the long run, those who have +trusted to virtue have made by it. At least, vice is inexpedient, and it +will not do to make a public profession of it. Religion, too, he says, +is well enough; it does for the weak and the ignorant; though shrewd +men, like our skeptic know that it is all a sham, and, of course, +scarce give it a serious thought. What is religion to a keen-minded, +hard-headed, sagacious man of the world? What has it to do with +business, and politics, and such practical matters? Pack it away for +Sunday, and then put it on with clean clothes, out of respect for +the world; but if it lifts any remonstrance in the caucus or the +counting-room, why, like a shrewd man, laugh it out of countenance. What +has our skeptic to do with the future world or with spiritual relations? +Keep bugbears to frighten more timid and credulous persons. But only see +how he uses the world, and plays his scheme, and foils his adversary and +twists and bends his plastic morality, all because he is not troubled +with scruples, and has no faith in God or duty! + +And yet, to the serious eye, that scans his spiritual mood, and looks +all around his shrewd, self-confident position, there is a great moral +in the skeptic's life. It teaches us, more than ever, the value of +faith, and the glory of religion. That flat negation only makes the +rejected truth more positive. The specimen of what existence is without +God in the world, causes us to yearn more earnestly for the shelter +of His presence, and the blessedness of His control. From the dark +perspective of the skeptic's sensual view, the bleak annihilation that +bounds all his hopes, we turn more gladly to the auroral promise of +immortality, to the consolations and influences of a life beyond the +grave. Yes, in that tale that is told, in that skeptic history, there +is indeed a great moral. It shows how meaningless and how mean, how +treacherous and false, is that man's life who hangs upon the balance +of a cunning egotism, and moves only from the impulses of selfish +desire-without religion, without virtue, repudiating the idea of +morality, and practically living without God. + +Or, on the other hand, suppose we call up the image of one who has well +kept the trusts of family, and kindred, and friendship;--one who has +made home a pleasant place; who has filled it with the sanctities +of affection, and adorned it with a graceful and generous +hospitality;--before whose cheerful temper the perplexities of business +have been smoothed, and whose genial disposition has melted even the +stern and selfish;--who, thus rendering life around her happier and +better, attracting more closely the hearts of relatives, and making +every acquaintance a friend, has, chief of all, beautifully discharged +the sacred offices of wife and mother; encountering the day of adversity +with a noble self-devotion, enriching the hour of prosperity with wise +counsel and faithful love; unwearied in the time of sickness, patient +and trustful beneath the dispensation of affliction; in short, by +her many virtues and graces evidently the bright centre of a happy +household. And now suppose that, with all these associations clinging +to her, in the bloom of life, with opportunities for usefulness and +enjoyment opening all around her, death interferes, and suddenly +quenches that light! Is there not left a moral which abides a sweet and +lasting consolation? That moral is-the power of a kind heart; the worth +of domestic virtues; the living freshness of a memory in which these +qualities are combined. + +Thus, then, in its brevity and its comprehensiveness, with its plot and +its moral, we see that each human life is like "a tale that is told." +To you, my friends, I leave the personal application of these +truths. Surely they suggest to each of us the most vital and solemn +considerations. Surely they call us to diligence and repentance,--to +introspection and prayer. What we are in ourselves,--what use we shall +make of life;--is not this an all important subject? What lesson we +shall furnish for others,--what influence for good or evil;--can we be +indifferent to that? God give us grace and strength to ponder and to act +upon these suggestions! + +Finally, remember under whose dominion all the sorrows and changes +of earth take place. Let your faith in Him be firm and clear. To Him +address your grief;--to Him lift up your prayer. Of Him seek strength +and consolation;--of Him ask that a holy influence may attend every +experience. And while all the trials of life should quicken us to +a loftier diligence, and inspire us with a keener sense of personal +responsibility, surely when our hearts are sore and bleeding,--when our +hopes lie prostrate, and we are faint and troubled, it is good to rise +to the contemplation of the Infinite Controller,--to lean back upon the +Almighty Goodness that upholds the universe; to realize that He does +verily watch over us, and care for us; to feel that around and above all +things else He moves the vast circle of his purpose, and carries within +it all our joys and sorrows; and that this mysterious tale of human +life-this tangled plot of our earthly being-is unfolded beneath His +all-beholding eye, and by His omnipotent and paternal hand. + + + + +THE CHRISTIAN VIEW OF SORROW + + + "A man of sorrow, and acquainted with grief" Is. Iii. 3. + + +There is one great distinction between the productions of Heathen and of +Christian art. While the first exhibits the perfection of physical form +and of intellectual beauty, the latter expresses, also, the majesty +of sorrow, the grandeur of endurance, the idea of triumph refined from +agony. In all those shapes of old there is nothing like the glory of the +martyr; the sublimity of patience and resignation; the dignity of the +thorn-crowned Jesus. + +It is easy to account for this. In that heathen age the soul had +received no higher inspiration. It was only after the advent of Christ +that men realized the greatness of sorrow and endurance. It was not +until the history of the Garden, the Judgment-Hall, and the Cross had +been developed, that genius caught nobler conceptions of the beautiful. +This fact is, therefore, a powerful witness to the prophecy in the text, +and to the truth of Christianity. Christ's personality, as delineated +in the Gospels, is not only demonstrated by a change of dynasties,--an +entire new movement in the world,--a breaking up of the its ancient +order; but the moral ideal which now leads human action,--which has +wrought this enthusiasm, and propelled man thus strangely forward,--has +entered the subjective realities of the soul,--breathed new inspiration +upon it,--opened up to it a new conception; and, lo! The statue dilates +with a diviner expression;--lo! The picture wears a more lustrous and +spiritual beauty. + +The Christ of the text, then,--"A man of sorrows, and acquainted with +grief,"-has verily lived, for his image has been reflected in the minds +of men, and has fastened itself there among their most intimate and +vivid conceptions. Sorrow, as illustrated in Christ's life, and as +interpreted in his scheme of religion, has assumed a new aspect and +yields a new meaning. Its garments of heaviness have become transfigured +to robes of light, its crown of thorns to a diadem of glory; and +often, for some one whom the rich and joyful of this world pity,--some +suffering, struggling, over-shadowed soul,--there comes a voice from +heaven, "This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased." + +I remark, however, that Christianity does not accomplish this result by +denying the character of sorrow. It does not refuse to render homage to +grief. The stoic is as far from its ideal of virtue as the epicurean. +The heart of the true saint quivers at pain, and his eyes are filled +with tears. Whatever mortifications he may deem necessary as to the +passions of this poor flesh, if he imitates the example of Christ he +cannot deny those better affections which link us even to God; he +cannot harden those sensitive fibres which are the springs of our +best action,--which if callus we become inhuman. He realizes pain; he +recognises sorrow as sorrow. Its cup is bitter, and to be resisted with +prayer. + +There is nothing more wonderful in the history of Jesus than his keen +sense of sorrow, and the scope which he allows it. In the tenderness of +his compassion he soothed the overflowing spirit, but he never rebuked +its tears. On the contrary, in a most memorable instance, he recognized +its right to grieve. It was on the way to his own crucifixion, when +crowned with insult, and lacerated with his own sorrows. "Daughters of +Jerusalem," said he, to the sympathizing women, "weep not for me, but +weep for yourselves and for your children." As though he had said, "You +have a right to weep; weep, then, in that great catastrophe which is +coming, when barbed affliction shall pierce your hearts, and the dearest +ties shall be cut in sunder. Those ties are tender; those hearts are +sacred. Therefore, weep!" + +But Christ did more than sanction tears in others. He wept himself. +Closest in our consciousness, because they will be most vivid to us +in our darkest and our last hours, are those incidents by the grave of +Lazarus, and over against Jerusalem; the sadness of Gethsemane, and +the divine pathos of the last supper. Never can we fully realize what +a tribute to sorrow is rendered by the tears of Jesus, and the dignity +which has descended upon those who mourn, because he had not where to +lay his head, was despised and rejected of men, and cried out in bitter +agony from the cross. He could not have been our exemplar by despising +sorrow-by treating it with contempt; but only by shrinking from its +pain, and becoming intimate with its anguish,--only as "a man of +sorrows, and acquainted with grief." + +But, on the other hand, Christianity does not over-estimate sorrow. +While it pronounces a benediction upon the mourner, it does not declare +it best that man should always mourn. It would not have us deny the +good that is in the universe. Nay, I apprehend that sorrow itself is +a testimony to that good,--is the anguish and shrinking of the severed +ties that have bound us to it; that it clings closest in hearts of the +widest and most various sympathies; that only souls which have loved +much and enjoyed much can feel its intensity or know its discipline. In +the language of another, "Sorrow is not an independent state of mind, +standing unconnected with all others...It is the effect, and, under +the present conditions of our being, the inevitable effect, of strong +affections. Nay, it is not so much their result, as a certain attitude +of those affections themselves. It not simply flows from the love of +excellence, of wisdom, of sympathy, but it is that very love, when +conscious that excellence, that wisdom, that sympathy have departed." +They, then, who deem it necessary for man's spiritual welfare that he +should constantly feel the pressure of chastisement, and be engirt with +the mist of tears, do not reason well. Jeremy Taylor reasons thus, when +he says in allusion to certain lamps which burned for many ages in a +tomb, but which expired when brought into open day: "So long as we are +in the retirements of sorrow, of want, of fear, of sickness, we are +burning and shining lamps; but when God lifts us up from the gates +of death and carries us abroad into the open air, to converse with +prosperity and temptations, we go out in darkness; and we cannot be +preserved in light and heat but by still dwelling in the regions of +sorrow." "There is beauty, and, to a certain extent, truth in this +figure," says a writer, in reply; "but it by no means follows that +continuous suffering would be good for man; on the contrary, it would +be as remote from producing the perfection of our moral nature as +unmitigated prosperity. It would be apt to produce a morbid and +ghastly piety; the 'bright lamps' of which Taylor speaks would still +be irradiating only a tomb." (Edinburgh Review No 141 The article on +Pascal) We may doubt whether there is more essential religiousness +in this seeking of sorrow as a mortification,--in this monastic +self-laceration and exclusion,--than in the morbid misery of the +hypochondriac. Neither comprehends the whole of life, nor is adapted to +its realities. Christ was "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;" +but he was also full of sympathy with all good, and enjoyed the charm +of friendship, and the light of existence. Around that great Life gather +many amenities. Below that face of agony beats a heart familiar with the +best affections of human nature; otherwise, we may believe, the agony +would not appear. The sadness of that last supper indicates the breaking +up of many joyful communions and the history which closes in the shadow +of the cross mingles with the festival of Cana, and lingers around the +home at Bethany. + +But I remark, once more, that while Christianity neither despises nor +affects to desire sorrow, it clearly recognizes its great and beneficial +mission. In one word, it shows its disciplinary character, and thus +practically interprets the mystery of evil. It regards man as a +spiritual being, thrown upon the theatre of this mortal life not merely +for enjoyment, but for training,--for the development of spiritual +affinities, and the attainment of spiritual ends. It thus reveals a +weaning, subduing, elevating power, in sorrow. + +The origin of evil may puzzle us;--its use no Christian can deny. A +sensual philosophy may shrink from it, in all its aspects, and retreat +into a morbid skepticism or a timid submission. If we predicate mere +happiness as "our being's end and aim," there is no explanation of evil. +From this point of view, there is an ambiguity in nature,--a duality in +every object, which we cannot solve. The throne of infinite light and +love casts over the face of creation an inexplicable shadow. If we were +made merely to be happy, why this hostility all around us? Why these +sharp oppositions of pain and difficulty? Why these writhing +nerves, these aching hearts, and over-laden eyes? Why the chill of +disappointment, the shudder of remorse, the crush and blight of hope? +Why athwart the horizon flicker so many shapes of misery and sin? +Why appear these sad spectacles of painful dying chambers, and weary +sick-beds?--these countless tomb-stones, too-ghastly witness to death +and tears? Explain for me those abrupt inequalities,--the long train of +necessities, poverty and its kindred woes, those fearful realities that +lie in the abysses of every city,--that hideous, compressed mass which +welters in the awful baptism of sensuality and ignorance,--the groans of +inarticulate woe, the spectacle of oppression, the shameless cruelty of +war, the pestilence that shakes its comet-sword over nations, and famine +that peers with skeleton face through the corn-sheaves of plenty. Upon +this theory of mere happiness no metaphysical subtlety can solve +the fact of evil;--the coiled enigma constantly returns upon itself, +inexplicable as ever. + +But when we take the Christian view of life, we discover that not +happiness merely, but virtue, holiness, is the great end of man; though +happiness comes in as an inevitable consequence and accompaniment of +this result. And in the light reflected from this view, evil assumes +a powerful, and, I may say, a most beautiful office. It is just as +necessary for the attainment of virtue as prosperity, or any blessing. +Nay, in this aspect, it is itself a great blessing, and + + "Every cloud that spreads above + And veileth love, itself is love." + +It is evident that, without the contact of sin and the pressure of +temptation, there might be innocence, but not virtue. Equally evident +does it seem that, without an acquaintance with grief, there would soon +be but little of that uplifting tendency-that softening of the heart, +and sanctifying of the affections-which fit us for the dissolution of +our earthly ties, and for the communions of the spirit world. Beautiful +is this weaning efficacy of sorrow. By the ordinance of God, youth is +made to be content with this outward and palpable life. The sunshine and +the air-the flow of animal pleasures, encircled mysteriously with the +guardianship of parents, and the love of friends-are sufficient for the +child. But as we grow in years, there springs up a dissatisfaction, a +restlessness, of which we may be only half conscious, and still less +know how to cure. With some, this may subside into merely a fearful +and worldly discontent; others may heed the prophecy and lay hold on +a celestial hope, an immortal possession as the only remedy. In this +secret sense of want, which neither nature nor man can fill they will +hear already that low, divine voice,--"Come unto me, all ye that labor +and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." But generally another +and more emphatic missionary is necessary. It is the veiled angel of +sorrow, who plucks away one thing and another that bound us here in ease +and security, and in the vanishing of these dear objects indicates the +true home of our affections and our peace. Thus, by rupture and loss we +become weaned from earth, and the dissatisfaction and discontent which +sorrow thus induces are as kind and providential as the carelessness of +youth. + +Who does not see that it is so,--that as we journey on in life there +are made in our behalf preparations for another state of +being,--unmistakable premonitions of that fact which the author of +the Epistle to the Hebrews so eloquently states, that "here have we no +continuing city"? The gloss of objects in which we delighted is worn off +by attrition,--is sicklied o'er by care; the vanity of earthly things +startles us suddenly, like a new truth; the friends we love drop away +from our side into silence; desire fails; the grasshopper becomes +a burden; until, at length, we feel that our only love is not here +below,--until these tendrils of earth aspire to a better climate, and +the weight that has been laid upon us makes us stoop wearily to the +grave as a rest and a deliverance. We have, even through our tears, +admired that discipline which sometimes prepares the young to die; +which, by sharp trials of anguish, and long days of weariness, weans +them from that keen sense of mortal enjoyment which is so naturally +theirs; which, through the attenuation of the body, illuminates the +soul, and, as it steals the bloom from the cheek, kindles the lustre of +faith in the eye, and makes even that young spirit look, unfaltering, +across the dark river, and, putting aside its earthly loves and its +reasonable expectations, exclaim, "Now I am ready!" But it would appear +that equal preparation, though in different forms, is provided for most +of us, in the various experiences of sorrow which we are called upon to +know, and which, if we would but heed them, have a celestial mission, +seeking to draw us up from this lower state, to induce us to lay up our +treasure where neither moth nor rust corrupts. And in the Christian view +of man as an heir of the spiritual word, does not sorrow, in this its +weaning tendency, receive a most beautiful explanation? + +And, because it accomplishes this work, may be the reason why sorrow +always wears a kind of supernatural character. It is true that +blessings, equally with afflictions, come from Heaven; but this truth is +not so generally felt. A sharp disappointment will suddenly drive us to +God. The mariner of life sails, unthinking, over its prosperous seas, +but a flaw of storm will bring him to his prayers. And religion, reason +as we will, is peculiarly associated with affliction. And does not +sorrow possess this supernatural air, not merely because it interrupts +the usual order of things, but because, more than joy, it has a weaning +and spiritual tendency,--is sent, as it were, more directly from God +for this specific purpose? At least, after the sanctifying experience of +sorrow, we hold our joys more religiously. + +There are other tendencies of sorrow akin to this, upon which I might +dwell, and which show the explanation that it receives in the Christian +light. The humbling effect that it has upon the proud and hard-hearted; +the equalizing result which it works, making the rich and poor, the +obscure and the great, stand upon the level of the common humanity,--the +common liability and dependence. I might, expanding the topic already +touched upon, speak of the influence which sorrow sheds abroad, +chastening the light, at tempering the draught of joy, and thus keeping +our hearts better balanced than otherwise. But I have sufficiently +illustrated its mission. I have shown its use, even its beauty, in +the Christian view. I have shown why Christianity, as the universal +religion, is rightly styled the "religion of sorrow," and why Christ, as +the perfect teacher and example, was "a man of sorrows, and acquainted +with grief." + +Let us all, then, recognize the fact that life itself is a discipline. +That for each of us sorrow is mingled with joy in order that this +discipline may be accomplished. No one reaches the noon of life without +some grief, some disappointment, some sharp trial, which assures him, if +he will but heed it, that life is already declining, and that his +spirit should train itself for a higher and more permanent state. In the +failure of mortal excellence let him recognize the proof of an immortal +good, and from the bitterness that mingles with these earthly waters, +turn to drink of the celestial fountain. Of all things, let us not +receive sorrow indifferently, or without reflection. Its mission is +for discipline, but we feel it to be discipline only by recognizing +its source and its meaning; "it yieldeth the peaceable fruits of +righteousness" only "to them that are exercised thereby." Otherwise, +it may come and go as the storm that rends the oak, or the drenching +tempest that glides off as it falls. It may startle us for a moment,--it +may hurt us with a sense of pain and loss,--it may awe us with its +mystery; but unless it rouses us to solemn thought upon the meaning +of life, to self-communion and prayer, to higher and holier action, it +availeth little. It should not smite the heart's chords to wring from +them a mere shriek of distress, but to inspire it with a deeper and more +elevated tone, and by the element of sadness which it infuses make a +more liquid and exquisite melody. + +But while we are thus taught to chasten our views of life, and to hold +even our joys with seriousness, and with wise forethought, let us not +look upon things with any morbid vision, or cast over them a monotonous +hue. Let us not live in gloom and bitterness. The Christian, of all +others, is the best fitted for a cheerful and proper enjoyment of +life, because he wisely recognizes the use of things, understands their +evanescent nature, and sees the infinite goodness that has so ordained +it. He is not surprised by sudden terrors. He is prepared for sorrow, +and thus can rest in peace with the good that he has; while those who +bury heart and soul in the present enjoyment, and know nothing but +sensual good, are broken down by calamity. The sudden change, like a +thunder-gust, puts out their light, and darkens all their life; and it +is they who are apt to fall from the summit of delight into a morbid +gloom; while the Christian, with his balanced soul, inhabits neither +extreme. + +Finally, let us remember that it is not the object of sorrow to +overcome, but to elevate; not to conquer us, but that we, by it, should +conquer. It converts the thorns that wound us into a crown. It makes +us strong by the baptism of tears. The saint is always a hero. This +explains that grand distinction between Heathen and Christian art, of +which I spoke in the commencement; that expression of power blended with +agony,--of celestial beatitude refining itself upon the face of grief. +Christianity has made martyrdom sublime, and sorrow triumphant. Christ +is "the Captain of our salvation,"-the leader of "many sons unto glory;" +for he was "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." + + + + +CHRISTIAN CONSOLATION IN LONELINESS + + + "And yet I am not alone, because the Father is with me." + John xvi.32. + + +These words are found in the farewell address of Jesus to his disciples. +They were uttered in the dark hour of coming agony, and in the face of +ignominious death. Because Christ was divinely empowered, and possessed +the spirit without measure, let us not suppose that to him there was no +pain or sorrow, in that great crisis. With all his supernatural dignity, +he appears to us far more attractive when we consider him as impressible +by circumstances,--as moved by human sympathies. He is thus not merely a +teacher, but a pattern for us. In all our trials he not only enables us +to endure and to triumph, but draws us close to himself by the affinity +of his own experience. We see, too, how the best men, men of the +clearest faith, may still look upon death with a shudder, and shrink +from the dark and narrow valley; not because they fear death as such, +but because of the agony of dissolution, the rupture of all familiar +ties, and the solemn mystery of the last change. + +But death and suffering, as Jesus was now to meet them, appeared in no +ordinary forms. He was to bear affliction with no friendly consolations +around him; but alone!--alone in the wrestling of the garden, and amid +the cruel mockery. Not upon the peaceful death-bed, but upon the bare +and rugged cross, torn by nails, pierced with the spear, crowned with +thorns, taunted by the revilings of the multitude, the vinegar and the +gall. He must be deserted, and encounter these trials alone. He must be +rejected, betrayed, crucified alone. And as he spoke to his disciples +those words of affection and holiness-those words so full of counsel and +sublime consolation-he remembered all this; he remembered that they who +now clung to him, and listened in sorrow to his parting accents, would +soon be scattered as sheep without a shepherd, and leave him to himself +in all that shame and agony. But even as he foretold it there gleamed +upon his spirit the sunshine of an inner consciousness,--a comfort that +no cloud could darken; and instantly he added, "And yet I am not alone, +because the Father is with me." + +Having thus considered the circumstances in which these words were +spoken, I now proceed to draw from them a few reflections. + +I would say, then, in the first place, that the great test which proves +the excellence of the religion of Christ is its adaptation to man in +solitude,--to man as a solitary being; because it is then that he +is thrown upon the resources of his own soul,--upon his inner and +everlasting life. In society he finds innumerable objects to attract his +attention and to absorb his affections. The ordinary cares of every +day, the pursuit of his favorite scheme, the converse of friends, the +exciting topics of the season, the hours of recreation, all fill up his +time, and occupy his mind with matters external to himself. And looking +upon him merely in these relations, if we could forget its great social +bearings, and the harmonies which flow from its all-pervading spirit out +into every condition of life, we might, perhaps, say that man could get +along well enough without religion. If this world were made up merely of +business and pleasure, perhaps the atheist's theory would suffice, +and we might feel indifferent whether controlled by plastic matter or +intelligent mind. We will admit that happiness, in one sense of the +term, does not essentially depend upon religion. Nay, we must admit this +proposition. A man may be happy without being religious. Good health, +good spirits;--how many, possessing these really enjoy life, without +being devout, or religious according to any legitimate meaning of that +term. + +But change the order of circumstances. Remove these external +helps,--substitute therefor sorrow, duty, the revelations of our own +inner being,--and all this gayety vanishes like the sparkles from a +stream when a storm comes up. The soul that has depended upon outward +congenialities for its happiness has no permanent principle of +happiness; for that is the distinction which religion bestows. He who +cannot retire within himself, and find his best resources there, is +fitted, perhaps, for the smoother passages of life, but poorly prepared +for all life. He who cannot and dare not turn away from these outward +engrossments, and be in spiritual solitude,--who is afraid or sickens at +the idea of being alone,--has a brittle possession in all that happiness +which comes from the whirl and surface of things. One hour may scatter +it forever. And poorly, I repeat, is he prepared for all life,--for some +of the most serious and important moments of life. These, as I shall +proceed to show, we must meet alone, and from within; and therefore, it +constitutes the blessedness of the Christian religion that it enables +man when in solitude to have communion, consolation, and guidance. In +fact, it makes him, when alone, to be not alone,--to say, with glad +consciousness, "I am not alone, because the Father is with me." + +To illustrate this truth, then, I say, that so far as the communion and +help of this outward world and of human society are concerned, there are +many and important seasons when man must be alone. In the first place, +in his most interior and essential nature, man is a solitary being. He +is an individual, a unit, amid all the souls around him, and all other +things,--a being distinct and peculiar as a star. God, in all the +variety of his works, has made no man exactly like another. There is an +individual isolation, a conscious personality, which he can share with +no other; which resists the idea of absorption; which claims its own +distinct immortality; which has its own wants and woes, its own sense of +duty, its own spiritual experiences. Christianity insists upon nothing +more strongly than this. Piercing below all conventionalisms, it +recognizes man as an individual soul, and, as such, addresses him with +its truths and its sanctions. Indeed, it bases its grand doctrine of +human brotherhood and equality upon the essential individuality of each +man, because each represents all,--each has in himself the nature of +every other. It demands individual repentance, individual holiness, +individual faith. One cannot believe for another. One cannot decide +questions of conscience for another. One cannot bear the sins or +appropriate the virtues of another. It is true, we have relations to the +great whole, to the world of mankind, and to the material universe. We +are linked to these by subtle affinities. We are interwoven with them +all,--bound up with them in arterial unity and life. They have all +poured their results into our souls, and helped to form us, and do now +support us; and we, in like manner, react upon them, and upon others. +This truth is a vital one, not to be neglected. But a deeper truth than +this and one upon which this depends, is the individual peculiarity of +each,--his integral distinctiveness, without which there would be no +such thing as union, or relationship; nothing but monotony and inertia. + +The great fact, then, which I would impress upon you is, that, +essentially as spiritual beings, we are alone. And I remark that there +are experiences in life when we are made to feel this deep fact; when +each must deal with his reason, his heart, his conscience, for himself; +when each is to act as if the sole-existent in the universe, realizing +that he is a spirit breathed from God, complete in himself, subject +to all spiritual laws, interested in all spiritual welfare; when no +stranger soul, though it be that of his dearest friend, can intermeddle +with all that occupies him, or share it. + +Such experiences we have when reflection binds us to the past. +Memory then opens for us a volume that no eye but God's and ours can +read;--memories of neglect, of sin, of deep secrets that our hearts have +hidden in their innermost folds. Such experiences sometimes there +are when we muse upon the external universe; when we reflect upon the +vastness of creation, the littleness of human effort, the transciency +of human relations; when our souls are drawn away from all ordinary +communions, and we feel that we are drifting before an almighty will, +bound to an inevitable destiny, hemmed in by irresistible forces. Then, +with every tie of association shrinking from us; then, keeping the +solitary vigil; then with cold, vast nature all around us, we are alone. +Or, there is a solitude which oppresses us even in the heart of the +great city;--a solitude more intense even than that of naked nature; +when all faces are strange to us; when no pulse of sympathy throbs from +our heart to the hearts of others when each passes us by, engaged with +his own destiny, and leaving us to fulfil ours. In this tantalizing +solitude of the crowd, in this sense of isolation from our fellows, if +never before, do we feel, with sickness of heart, that we are alone. +There is a solitude of sickness,--the solitude of the watcher or of the +patient,--a solitude to which, at times, duty and Providence call us +all. There are, in brief, countless circumstances of life when we shall +realize that we are indeed alone, and sad enough will be that solitude +if we have no inner resource,--no Celestial companionship;--if we cannot +say and feel as we say it, that we are not alone, for the Father is with +us. + +But, while I cannot specify all these forms of solitude, let me dwell +upon two or three of the experiences of life in which we are peculiarly +alone. + +First, then, I would say, that we must be alone in the pursuit of Truth +and the work of Duty. Others may aid me in these, but I must decide and +act for myself. I must believe for myself. I must do right for myself; +or if I do wrong, it is also for myself, and in myself I realize the +retribution. By my own sense of right and wrong-by my own standard of +truth and falsehood-I must stand or fall. There is in this world +nothing so great and solemn as the struggles of the solitary soul in its +researches after the truth,--in its endeavors to obey the right. We may +be indifferent to these vital questions,--it is to be feared that many +are; we may glide along in the suppleness of habit, and the ease +of conventionalism; we may never trouble ourselves with any pungent +scruples; we may never pursue the task of introspection, or bring to +bear upon the fibres of motive and desire within us the intense focus +of God's moral law; we may never vex our souls with tests of faith, but +rest contented with the common or hereditary standard;--but he who will +be serious in the work of spiritual discipline, who will act from a +vital law of duty, must endure struggles and conflicts than which, I +repeat, there is nothing more solemn under the sun. He will often find +himself opposed to the general current of human faith and action. His +position will be singular. His principle will be tried. Interest will +direct him another way; his strictness will be ridiculed, his motives +questioned, his sincerity misunderstood and aspersed. Alone must he +endure all this,--along cling to the majestic ideal of right as it rises +to his own soul. And thus he must wage a bitter conflict with fear and +with seduction,--with sophistries of the heart, and reluctance of the +will. + +Often, too, must he question his own motives with a severer judgment +than that of the world, as his scrutiny is more close, and his +self-knowledge more minute. He knows the secret sin, the mental act, the +spiritual aberration. He knows the distance between his highest effort +and that lofty standard of perfection to which he has pledged his +purposes. Alone, alone does the great conflict go on within him. The +struggle, the self-denial, the pain, and the victory, are of the very +essence of martyrdom,--are the chief peculiarities in the martyr's +lot. His, too, must be the solitude of prayer, when, by throwing by all +entanglements,--in his naked individuality,--he wrestles at the Mercy +Seat, or soars to the bliss of Divine communion. In such hours,--in +every hour of self-communion,--when we ask ourselves the highest +questions respecting faith and duty, it is the deepest comfort to the +religious soul to feel and to say, "I am not alone, for the Father is +with me." + +Again; there are experiences of Sorrow in which we are peculiarly alone. +How often does the soul feel this when it is suffering from the loss +of friends! Then we find no comfort in external things. Pleasure charms +not; business cannot cheat us of our grief; wealth supplies not the +void; and though the voice of friendship falls in consolation upon the +ear, yet with all these, we are alone,--alone! No other spirit can +fully comprehend our woe, or enter into our desolation. No human eye can +pierce to our sorrows; no sympathy can share them. Alone we must realize +their sharp suggestions, their painful memories, their brood of sad +and solemn thoughts. The mother bending over her dead child;--O! what +solitude is like that?--where such absolute loneliness as that which +possesses her soul, when she takes the final look of that little pale +face crowned with flowers and sleeping in its last chamber, with +the silent voice of the dead uttering its last good night? What more +solitary than the spirit of one who, like the widow of Nain, follows to +the grave her only son?--of one from whom the wife, the mother, has been +taken? The mourner is in solitude,--alone, in this peopled world;--O, +how utterly alone! Through the silent valley of tears wanders that +stricken spirit, seeing only memorials of that loss. + +Indeed, sorrow of any kind is solitary. Its deepest pangs, its most +solemn visitations, are in the secrecy of the individual soul. We labor +to conceal it from others. We wear a face of unconcern or gayety amid +the multitude. Society is thronged with masked faces. Unseen burdens of +woe are carried about in its busy haunts. The man of firm step in the +mart, and of vigorous arm in the workshop, has communions in his chamber +that make him weak as a child. Nothing is more deceitful than a happy +countenance. Haggard spirits laugh over the wine-cup, and the blooming +garland of pleasure crowns an aching head. For sorrow is secret and +solitary. Each "heart knoweth its own bitterness." + +How precious, then, in the loneliness of sorrow, is that faith +which bids us look up and see how near is God, and feel what divine +companionship is ours, and know what infinite sympathy engirds us,--what +concern for our good is, even in this darkness, shaping out blessings +for us, and distilling from this secret agony everlasting peace for the +soul. How precious that faith in the clear vision of which we can say, +"I am not alone, for the Father is with me." + +Finally, we must experience Death alone. As I said in the commencement, +the best, the most pious soul, may naturally shrink from this great +event. We may learn to anticipate it with resignation, to look upon it +with trust; but indifference respecting it is no proof of religion. It +would be, rather, a bad sign for one to approach it without emotion; for +however his faith may penetrate beyond, the religious spirit will, with +deep awe, lift that curtain of mystery which hangs before the untried +future. That is a fact which we must encounter alone. Friends may gather +around us; their ministrations may aid, their consolations soothe us. +They may be with us to the very last; they may cling to us as though +they would pluck us back to the shores of time; their voices may fall, +the last of earthly sounds, upon our ears; their kiss awaken the last +throb of consciousness; but they cannot go with us, they cannot die in +our stead; the last time must come,--they must loosen their hold +from us, and fade from our vision, and we become wrapt in the solemn +experience of death, alone! Alone must we tread the dark valley,--alone +embark for the unseen land. No, Christian! not alone. To your soul, thus +separated in blank amazement from all familiar things, still is that +vision of faith granted that so often lighted your earthly perplexities; +to you is it given, in this most solitary hour, to say, "I am not alone +for the Father is with me!" + +I repeat, then, in closing, that the test which proves the excellence +of the religion of Christ is the fact that it fits us for those solemn +hours of life when we must be alone. Mere happiness we may derive from +other sources; but this consolation not all the world can give,--the +world cannot take it away. + +Let us remember, then, that though we seldom look within-though our +affections may be absorbed in external things-these solitary seasons +will come. It behoves us, therefore, as we value true peace of mind, +genuine happiness, which connects us to the throne of God with golden +links of prayer,--it behoves each to ask himself, "Dare I be alone? Am +I ready to be alone? And what report will my soul make in that hour of +solitude? If I do wrong, if I cleave to evil rather than the good, what +shall I do when I am alone, and yet not alone, but with the Father? But +if I do right, if I trust in Him, and daily walk with Him, what crown +of human honor, what store of wealth, what residuum of earthly pleasure, +can compare with the glad consciousness that wherever I rest or wander, +in every season and circumstance, in the solitary hours of life, and the +loneliness of death, God is verily with me?" + +Surely no attainment is equal to that strength of Christ, by which, +when approaching the cross, he was able to say, "I am not alone, for the +Father is with me." By this strength, he was able to do more than to +say and feel thus. He was able to strengthen others,--to exclaim, "Be of +good cheer, I have overcome the world." So we, by spiritual discipline, +having learned of Christ to be thus strong, not only possess a spring +of unfailing consolation for ourselves, but there shall go out from us +a benediction and a power that shall gladden the weary and fortify the +weak,--that shall fill the solitude of many a lonely spirit with +the consolations of the Father's love, and the bliss of the Father's +presence. + + + + +RESIGNATION + + + "The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink + it?" John xvii.11. + + +The circumstances in which these words were uttered have, doubtless, +often arrested your attention,--have often been delineated for you +by others. Yet it is always profitable for us to recur to them. They +transpired immediately after our Saviour's farewell with his disciples. +The entire transaction in that "upper room" had been hallowed and +softened by the fact of his coming death. He saw that fact distinctly +before him, and to his eye everything was associated with it. As he took +the bread and broke it, it seemed to him an emblem of himself, pierced +and dying; and from the fulness of his spirit he spoke, "Take, eat, this +is my body, broken for you." As he took the cup and set it before +them, it reminded him of his blood, that must flow ere his mission +was fulfilled, and he could say, "It is finished." And then, when the +traitor rose from that table to go out and consummate the very purpose +that should lead to that event, as one who had arrayed himself in robes +of death, and was about to declare his legacy, he broke forth in that +sublime strain commencing, "Now is the Son of man glorified, and God +is glorified in him;"-that strain of mingled precept, and promise, and +warning, and prayer, from which the weary and the sick-hearted of all +ages shall gather strength and consolation, and which shall be read in +dying chambers and houses of mourning until death and sorrow shall reign +no more. + +Laden, then, with the thought of his death, he had gone with his +disciples into the garden of Gethsemane. There, in the darkness and +loneliness of night, the full anguish of his situation rushed upon his +spirit. He shrank from the rude scenes that opened before him,--from +the mocker's sneer and the ruler's scourge; from the glare of impatient +revenge, and the weeping eyes of helpless friendship; from the insignia +of imposture and of shame; and from the protracted, thirsty, torturing +death. He shrank from these,--he shrank from the rupture of tender +ties,--he shrank from the parting with deeply-loved friends,--his soul +was overburdened, his spirit was swollen to agony, and he rushed to his +knees, and prayed, "Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from +me." Yet even then, in the intensity of his grief, the sentiment that +lay deep and serene below suggested the conditions, and he added, +"Nevertheless, not my will, but thine, be done." But still the painful +thought oppressed him, and, though more subdued now, he knelt and prayed +again, "O, my Father, if this cup may not pass away from me except I +drink it, thy will be done." And once more, as he returned from his +weary, sleeping disciples, and found himself alone, the wish broke +forth-yet tempered by the same obedient compliance. + +And here I pause to ask, if, in all that scene of agony, anything is +developed inconsistent with the character of Christ? If we would have it +otherwise? If these tears and groans of anguish are tokens of a weakness +that we would conceal from our convictions,--that we would overlook, as +marring the dignity and the divinity of the Saviour? For one, I would +not have it otherwise. I would not have the consoling strength, the +sympathizing tenderness, the holy victory that may be drawn from +thence,--I would not have these left out from the Life that was given us +as a pattern. Jesus, we are told, "was made perfect through suffering." +This struggle took place that victory might be won;--this discipline of +sorrow fell upon him that perfection and beauty might be developed. By +this we see that Christ's was a spirit liable to trial,--impressible by +suffering; and from this fact does the victory appear greater and more +real. In this we see one striving with man's sorrow,--seeking, like man, +to be delivered from pain and grief, yet rising to a calm obedience,--a +lofty resignation. Had Jesus passed through life always serene, always +unshrinking, we should not have seen a man, but something that man is +not, something that man cannot be in this world; and that calm question, +"The cup that my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" would +lose its force and significance. Otherwise, why should not Jesus be +as resigned as before? He had betrayed no sense of suffering, no +impressibility by pain; why should he not be willing, seeing he was +always able to meet the end? But O! when that deep, holy calmness has +fallen upon a soul that has been tossed by sorrow, and that has shrunk +from death,--when the brow has come up smooth and radiant from the +shadow of mourning,--when that soul is ready for the issue, not because +it has always felt around it the girdle of Omnipotence, but because, +through weakness and suffering, it has risen and worked out an +unfaltering trust, and taken hold of the hand of God by the effort of +faith,--then it is, I say, that resignation if beautiful and holy,--then +do we wonder and admire. + +So it was with Jesus. A little while ago we saw him bowed with sorrow, +his eyes lifted with tears to heaven. We saw that he keenly felt the +approaching pain, and shame, and death. A little while ago, the still +night air was laden with his cry, "Father, if it be thy will, let this +cup pass from me." And now, as one who is strong and ready, he says +calmly to Peter, "The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not +drink it?" Truly, a battle has been fought, and a victory won, here; but +we should not be the better for it, were it not for that very process +of suffering in which that battle was waged, and from which that victory +was wrung. Now, when we sorrow, we know who also sorrowed; we remember +whose agony the still heavens looked upon with all their starry +eyes,--whose tears moistened the bosom of the bare earth,--whose cry of +anguish pierced the gloom of night. Now, too, when we sorrow, we know +where to find relief; we learn the spirit of resignation, and under what +conditions it may be born. Thank God, then, for the lesson of the lonely +garden and the weeping Christ-we, too, may be "made perfect through +suffering." + +Such, then, were the circumstances that illustrate the words of the +text. Scarcely had Jesus risen from his knees, and wakened the drowsy +disciples, when the light of lanterns flashed upon him, and Judas came +with a multitude to bear him to that death from which, but now, he +shrunk with agony. But he shrank no more. The trial was over,--the +darkness had vanished,--an angel had strengthened him; and when the +impetuous Peter drew his sword and smote off the servant's ear, his +master turned to him, with the calm rebuke, "Put up thy sword into his +sheath; the cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" +Yes, cold and bitter as that cup was, pressed next to his very lips, he +had learned to drink it. God had given him strength, and no more did +he falter, no more did he groan-save once, for a moment, when, upon the +cross, drooping, and racked with intense pain, he cried out, "My God, my +God, why hast thou forsaken me?" But that passed away in the triumphant +ejaculation, "It is finished!" + +Such was the resignation of Jesus; a trait in his character which, like +all the rest, is not only to be admired, but imitated;--not an abstract +virtue, manifested by a being so perfect and so enshrined in the +sanctity of a divine nature that we cannot approach it, and in our +mortal, work-day trials can never feel it; but a virtue which should +be throned in every heart, the strength and consolation of which every +suffering soul may experience. Nay, if there is one virtue which is more +often needed than any other, which lies at the base of true happiness, +and than which there is no surer seal of piety, it is this virtue of +resignation. And let me proceed to say, that by resignation I mean not +cold and sullen apathy, or reckless hardihood, but a sweet trust and +humble acquiescence, which show that the soul has submitted itself to +the Father who knows and does best, and that it meets his dispensations +with obedience and his mysteries with faith. The apathy and hardihood +to which I have alluded are very far from the trust and piety of a +religious spirit. The fatalist acquiesces in the course of things +because he cannot help it. He has reasoned to the conclusion that his +murmuring and weeping will not alter matters and he has resolved to take +things as they come. But here is no resignation to the will of God, but +to the necessity of things. Here is no faith that all things are wisely +ordered, and that sorrow is but the shadow of the Father's hand. No; +here is the simple belief that things are as they are, and cannot be +altered,-that an arbitrary law is the eternal rule, not a benevolent +and holy purpose; and the philosopher would be just as resigned if he +believed all things to be under the guidance of a blind fate, whose iron +machinery drives on to level or exalt, unintelligent and remorseless, +whether in its course it brings about good or evil,-whether it gladdens +human hearts or crushes them. Such resignation as this may be quite +common in the world, manifested in various phases, and by men of +different religious opinions. Do we not often hear the expression, +"Well, things are as they are,-we do best to take them as they come;" +and here the matter ends? No higher reference is made. The things +alluded to may issue from the bosom of material nature, may be sent into +the world by chance, or may come from the good Father of all; but the +minds of these reasoners reach not so far. Now I repeat, there is no +religion and no true philosophy in this method; certainly it is not +such resignation as Jesus manifested. In fact, it indicates total +carelessness as to the discipline of life, and will generally be found +with men in whose thoughts God is not, or to whose conceptions he is +the distant, inactive Deity, not the near and ever-working Controller. I +cannot admire the conduct of that man who when the bolt of sorrow falls, +receives it upon the armor of a rigid fatalism, who wipes scarcely a +tear from his hard, dry face, and says, "Well, it cannot be helped; +things are so ordered." Below all this there is often a sulky, +half-angry sentiment, as though the victim felt the blow, but was +determined not to wince,-as though there was an acknowledgment of +weakness, but also a display of pride,-a feeling that we cannot resist +sorrow, yet that sorrow has no business to come, and now that it +has come the sufferer will not yield to it. This, evidently, is not +resignation, religious resignation, but only sullen acquiescence, or +reckless hardihood. + +In a certain sense it is true that we do well to take things as they +come,-that we cannot help the eternal laws that control events. But we +must go behind this truth. Whence do events come, and for what purpose +do they come? What is life, and for what end are all its varied +dispensations? Religion points us up beyond the cloud of materialism, +and behind the mechanism of nature, to an Infinite Spirit, to a God, to +a Father. All things are moved by infinite Love. Life is not merely +a phenomenon, it is a Lesson. Its events do not come and go, in a +causeless, arbitrary manner; they are meant for our discipline and our +good. In whatever aspect they come, then, let their appropriate lesson +be heeded. This is the religious view of life, and is wide apart from +the philosophy that lets events happen as they will, as though we were +in the setting of a heady current, and were borne along among other +matters that now help us, now jar and wound us,-that happen without +order and without object; all, like ourselves, driven along and taking +things as they come. In the religious view, all things stream from God's +throne, and whatever sky hangs over them, the infinite One is present; +prosperity is the sunshine that he has sent, and Faith, as she weeps, +beholds a bow in the clouds. + +The religious man takes things as they come, but how? In a reverent and +filial spirit, a spirit that obeys and trusts because God has ordained. +He refers, behind the event, to the will that declares it. And yet, this +will be no formal lifeless resignation. He will not be stripped of his +manhood, or become unnatural in his religion. His resignation will not +be the cold assent of reason, or the mere rote and repetition of the +lips. No, it will be born in struggling and in sorrow. Religion is not +a process that makes our nature callous to all fierce heats or drenching +storms. Neither is he the most religious man who is calmest in the keen +crisis of trouble. I say in the crisis of trouble-for to human +vision there always is a crisis. We cannot penetrate to the secret +determinations of God, and in the season of care and affliction there +is a time when the issue is uncertain,-when we cannot say it is sealed. +What shall we do then? Is human agency nothing? Grant that we are +driving down a stream,-can we use no effort? Is there not a time when +deeds, struggles, prayers, are of some avail?-when the spirit, in its +intense agony, with swollen strength and surging tears, heaves against +the catastrophe, if yet, perchance, it may ward it off? Truly, there +is such a time, and the humblest disciple of Christ may weep as he also +wept. But let him also strive as Christ strove. Let him not dash his +grief in rebellious billows to the throne; let not his groans arise in +resentful murmurs; let the remembrance of what God is and why he does, +be with him, and let the filial, reverent trust steal in,--"Not my will, +but thine be done." That reference to God, that obedience to him, rising +from the very depths of sorrow, and clung to without faltering, is +RESIGNATION. It shall bestow peace and victory in the end. O! how +different from that sullen fatalism that lets things come as they +will. To such a soul things do come as they will, and it hardens under +them,-they do come as they will, but it sees not, cares not, why they +come. No thought goes up beyond the cloud to God,-no strength is born +that shall make life's trials lighter,-no love and faith that will seek +the Father's hand in the darkest hour, and shed an enduring light over +the thorny path of affliction, and upon the bosom of the grave. Look at +these two. Outwardly, their calmness may be the same. Nay, the one may +evince emotion and tears, while the other shall stand rigid in the hour +of calamity, with a bitter smile, or a frown of endurance. But in the +one is strength, in the other rigidity; in the one is power to triumph +over sorrow, in the other only nervous capacity to resist it. The one +is man hardened to indifference, sullen because of irreligion, upon whom +some sorrow will one day fall that will peel him to the quick, and he +will not know where to flee for healing. The other is man contending +against evil, yet not against God,-man with all the tenderness and +strength of his nature, impressible yet unconquerable, walking with feet +that bleed among the wounding thorns, and a heart that shrinks from the +heavy woe, yet, all lacerated as he is, able to walk through, because he +holds by the hand of Omnipotence. The one is the unbending tree, peeled +by the lightning and stripped by the North wind, lifting its gnarled +head in sullen defiance to the storm, which, when the storm does +overcome it, shall be broken. The other also is rooted in strength, +and meets the rushing blast with a lofty front. But as "it smiles in +sunshine, so it bends in storm," trustful and obedient, yet firm and +brave, and nothing shall overwhelm it. + +I trust I have succeeded in impressing upon you the difference between +Christian resignation and mere hardihood, or indifference. Resignation +is born of discipline, and lives only in a truly religious soul. We +have seen that it is not incompatible with tenderness; nay, it is more +valuable, because it springs up in natures that have thus suffered and +wept. To see them become calm and pass with unfaltering step through +the valley of affliction, when, but now, they shrunk from it, is a proof +that God indeed has strengthened them, and that they have had communion +with him. The unbeliever's stubbornness may endure to the end, but no +human power could inspire this sudden and triumphant calmness. + +And even when the crisis is past, when the sorrow is sealed, it is not +rebellion to sigh and weep. Our Father has made us so. He has opened the +springs of love that well up within us, and can we help mourning when +they turn to tears and blood? He has made very tender the ties that bind +us to happiness, and can we fail to shrink and suffer when they are cut +asunder? When we have labored long in the light of hope, and lo! It goes +out in darkness, and the blast of disappointment rushes upon us, can we +help being sad? Can the mother prevent weeping when she kisses the lips +of her infant that shall prattle to her no more; when she presses its +tiny hand, so cold and still,-the little hand that has rested upon her +bosom and twined in her hair; and even when it is so sweet and beautiful +that she could strain it to her heart forever, it is laid away in the +envious concealment of the grave? Can the wife, or the husband, help +mourning, when the partner and counsellor is gone,-when home is made +very desolate because the familiar voice sounds not there, and the +cast-off garment of the departed is strangely vacant, and the familiar +face has vanished, never more to return? Can the child fail to lament, +when the father, the mother,-the being who nurtured him in infancy, +who pillowed his head in sickness, who prayed for him with tears on +his sinful wandering, who ever rejoiced in his joy and wept in +his sorrows,-can he fail to weep when that venerable form lies all +enshrouded, and the door closes upon it, and the homestead is vacant, +and the link that bound him to childhood is in the grave? Say, can we +check the gush of sorrow at any of life's sharp trials and losses? +No; nor are we forbidden to weep, nor would we be human if we did not +weep,-if, at least, the spirit did not quiver when the keen scathing +goes over it. But how shall we weep? O! Thou, who didst suffer in +Gethsemane, thou hast taught us how. By thy sacred sorrow and thy pious +obedience thou has taught us; by thy great agony and thy sublime +victory thou has taught us. We must refer all to God. We must earnestly, +sincerely say, "Thy will be done." Then our prayers will be the source +of our strength. Then our sorrowing will bring us comfort. "They will +be done;" repeat this, feel this, realize its meaning and its relations, +and you shall be able to say, with a rooted calmness, "The cup which my +Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" + +"The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" Who +shall be able to say this as Jesus said it? They who struggle as he +struggled,-who obey as he obeyed,-who trust as he trusted. There are +those upon earth who have been able to say it. It has made them stronger +and happier. There are those in heaven who have been able to say it. +They have gone up from earthly communions to the communion on high. Do +you not see them there, walking so serenely by the still waters, with +palms about their brows? Serenely-for in their faces nothing is left of +their conflict but its triumph; nothing of their swollen agony but the +massy enduring strength it has imparted. They have ceased from their +trials, but first they learned how to endure them. They submitted, but +they were not overwhelmed. When sorrow came, each pious soul struggled, +but trusted; and so was able to meet the last struggle,-was able to say +as the shadow of death fell upon it, "The cup which my Father hath given +me, shall I not drink it?" They were resigned. Behold-theirs is the +victory! + + + + +THE MISSION OF LITTLE CHILDREN + + + "And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in + the midst of them." Matthew xviii.2. + + +Everything has its mission. I speak not now of the office which each +part of the great universe discharges. I speak not of the relation +between these parts,--that beautiful ordinance by which the whole is +linked together in one common life, by which the greatest is dependent +upon the least, and the least shares in the benefactions of the +greatest. In this sense, everything has, strictly, its mission. But I +speak of the influence, the instruction, which everything has, or may +have, for the soul of man. The flower, and the star, the grass of the +field, the outspread ocean, are full of lessons; they perform a mission +to our spiritual nature, if we will receive it. We may pass them by as +simply material forms, the decorations or conveniencies(sic) of this +our natural life. But if we will come to them in a religious spirit, and +study all their meaning, they will be to us ministers of God, impressive +and eloquent as human lips, and filled with truths instructive as any +that man can utter. + +Jesus illustrated his teachings by these objects. He made everything +that was at hand perform a mission for the human soul. The lilies of the +field were clothed with spiritual suggestion, and the fowls of the air, +as they flew through the trackless firmament, bore a lesson of truth and +consolation. As if to show that there is nothing, however small, that +is insignificant, and that has not its mission, he selected the falling +sparrow to be a minister of wisdom, and dignified the wayside well as a +clear and living oracle of the divinest truth. + +In the instance before us, the object selected was a little child. In +reply to the question, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" +Jesus set this little one in the midst of his disciples and said, +"Verily I say unto you, except ye be converted, and become as little +children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." Thus did he +rebuke their sensuous ideas of greatness by a spiritual truth, and make +a little child the teacher of profound and beautiful wisdom. I do not +propose, however, at this time, to dwell upon the precise doctrines +which Christ taught in the instance, but having, as it were, the little +child set in our midst, to draw from it further lessons that may do us +good. In one word, I propose to speak of the mission of little children. + +In using this term "mission," I wish to have no obscurity about my +meaning. I refer, by it, to the influence which little children may +exert upon us,--to the effects which they may produce,--rather than to +any direct object which they can have in view, or for which they set +themselves to work. They may be unconscious missionaries; indeed, to a +great extent, they are so. But so are the lilies of the field and the +birds of the air. Yet if we believe that God is the ordainer of all +wisdom and of all good, that he uses an object or event in numberless +ways, and makes it the unconscious instrument of many of his plans, +then we may say that children are sent by him for the express purpose of +producing these effects, and in that sense have a mission. + +I pass to consider some of the modes in which that mission is +accomplished. + +I. Little children give us a sincere and affectionate manifestation +of human nature. I know that even a child will soon become artful, +and imbibe the spirit of dealing and of policy. But in a strongly +comparative sense, the child is artless. The thoughts of the heart leap +spontaneously from the lips. The bubbling impulse is closely followed +by the action. Its desire, its aversion, its love, its curiosity, +are expressed without modification. The broken prattle, those +half-pronounced words, are uttered with clear, ringing tones of +sincerity. There is no coil of deceit about the heart. There are no +secrets chambered in the brain. The countenance has put on no disguise. +There is no manoeuvring with lips or actions, no suspicion or plotting +in the eyes. It is simple human nature fresh from the hands of God, with +all its young springs in motion, trying themselves in their simplicity +and their newness. The eyes open upon the world, not with speculation, +but with wonder. To them, the ancient hills and the morning stars are +just created, new phenomena burst upon them every moment, and nature in +a thousand channels pours itself into the young soul. And how soon it +learns the meaning of a mother's smile, and the protection of a father's +hand! How soon the fountains of affection are unsealed and the mystery +of human love takes possession of the hear! But the tides of that love +are controlled by no calculation, are fettered by no proprieties, but +flow artlessly and freely. + +Humanity soon runs into deceit, and the sincerest man wears a mask. +We cannot trust our most familiar friends, to the whole extent. We all +retain something in our inmost hearts that nobody knows but we and +God. The world bids us be shrewd and politic. We walk in a mart of +selfishness. Eyes stare upon us, and we are afraid of them. We meet as +traders, as partisans, as citizens, as worshippers, as friends-brothers, +if you will-but we must not express all we think, we must school +ourselves in some respects,--must adopt some conventionalities. There is +some degree of isolation between ourselves and every other one. But +from the world's strife and sordidness, its wearisome forms and cold +suspicions, we may turn to the sanctity of home, and if we have a child +there, we shall find affection without alloy, a welcome that leaps from +the heart in sunshine to the face, and speaks right from the soul;--a +companion who is not afraid or ashamed of us, who makes no calculation +about our friendship, who has faith in it, and requires of us perfect +faith in return, and whose sincerity rebukes our worldliness, and makes +us wonder at the world. And if all this makes us better and happier, +if it keeps our hearts from hardness and attrition, if it begets in us +something of the same sincerity, and hallows us with something of +the same affection, if it softens and purifies us at all, then do not +children, in this respect perform a mission for us? + +And shall we not learn from them more confidence in human nature, seeing +that "the child is father to the man," and that much that seems cold and +hard in men may conceal the remains of childhood's better feeling? And, +also, shall it not make us deplore and guard against those influences +which can change the sincere and loving child into the deceitful and +selfish man-that cover the spring of genuine feeling with the thick rime +of worldliness, and petrify the tender chords of the heart into rough, +unfeeling sinews? The man should not be, in all respects, as the child. +The child cannot have the glory of the man. If it is not polluted by his +vices, it is not ennobled by his virtues. But in so much as the child +awakens in us tenderness, and teaches us sincerity, and counteracts our +coarser and harder tendencies, and cheers us in our isolation from human +hearts, by binding us close with a warm affection, and sheds ever around +our path the mirrored sunshine of our youth and our simplicity, in so +much the child accomplishes for us a blessed mission. + +II. Children teach us faith and confidence. Man soon becomes proud with +reason, and impatient of restraint. He thinks he knows, or ought to +know, the whole mystery of the universe. It is not easy for him to take +anything upon trust, or to lie low in the hand of God. But the child is +full of faith. He is not old enough to speculate, and the things he sees +are to him so strange and wonderful that he can easily believe in "the +things that are unseen." He propounds many questions, but entertains no +doubts as to God and heaven. And what confidence has he in his father's +government and his mother's providence! + +I do not say, here, that a man's faith should be as a child's faith. Man +must examine and reason, contend with doubt, and wander through mystery. +But I would have him cherish the feeling that he too is a child, the +denizen of a Father's house, and have sufficient confidence in that +Father to trust his goodness; and to remember, if things look perplexed +and discordant to him, that his vision is but a child's vision-he cannot +see all. Indeed, there is a beautiful analogy between a child in its +father's house and man in the universe, and much there is in the filial +sentiment that belongs to both conditions. Beautifully has it been shown +by a recent writer how the natural operation of this sentiment in the +child's heart, and in the sphere of home, stands somewhat in the place +of that religion which man needs in his maturer conditions. "God +has given it, in its very lot," says he, "a religion of its own, the +sufficiency of which it were impiety to doubt. The child's veneration +can scarcely climb to any loftier height than the soul of a wise and +good parent...How can there be for him diviner truth than his father's +knowledge, a more wonderous world than his father's experience, a better +providence than his mother's vigilance, a securer fidelity than in their +united promise? Encompassed round by these, he rests as in the embrace +of the only omniscience he can comprehend." (Martineau) + +But O! my friends, when our childhood has passed by, and we go out to +drink the mingled cup of life, and cares come crowding upon us, and +hopes are crushed, and doubts wrestle with us, and sorrow burdens our +spirits, then we need a deeper faith, and look up for a stronger Father. +A kind word will not stifle our grief then. We cannot go to sleep upon +our mother's arms, and forget it all. There is no charm to hold our +spirits within the walls of this home, the earth. Our thoughts crave +more than this. Our souls reach out over the grave, and cry for +something after! No bauble will assuage this bitterness. It is spiritual +and stern, and we must have a word from heaven-a promise from one who is +able to fulfill. We look around us, and find that Father, and his +vary nature contains the promise that we need. And as the child in his +ignorance has faith, not because he can demonstrate, but because it +is his father, so let us, in our ignorance, feel that in this great +universe of many mansions, of solemn mysteries, of homes beyond the +earth, of relationships that reach through eternity, of plans only a +portion of which is seen here; so let us look up as to a Father's +fare, take hold of his hand, go in and out and lie down securely in his +presence, and cherish faith. If children only teach us to do this, how +beautiful and how great is their mission! + +III. Children waken in us new and powerful affections. Nobody but a +parent can realize what these affections are, can tell what a fountain +of emotion the newborn child unseals, what chords of strange love are +drawn out from the heart, that before lay there concealed. One may +have all powers of intellect, a refined moral culture, a noble and +wide-reaching philanthropy, and yet a child born to him shall awaken +within him a depth of tenderness, a sentiment of love, a yearning +affection, that shall surprise him as to the capacity and the mystery of +his nature. + +And the relation of a mother to her child; what other is like it? +Without it, how undeveloped is the great element of affection, how small +a horn of its orb is filled and lighted! What was she until that new +love woke up within her, and her heart and soul thrilled with it, and +first truly lived in it? Of all the degrees of human love, how amply is +this the highest! In all the depths of human love, how surely is this +the nethermost! When illustrations fail us, how confidently do we seize +upon this! The mother nurturing her child in tenderness, watching over +it with untiring love! O! that is affection stronger than any of this +earth. It has a power, a beauty, a holiness like no other sentiment. +When that child has grown to maturity, and has gone out from her in +profligacy and in scorn; when the world has denounced him, and justice +sets its price upon his head, and lovers and companions fall off from +him in utter loathing-we do not ask, we know, there is one heart that +cannot reject him. No sin of his can paralyze the chord that vibrates +there for him. No alienation can cancel the affection that was born at +his birth, that pillowed him in his infancy, centred in him its life, +clasped him with its strength, and shed upon him its blessings, its +hopes, and its prayers. + +And no one feels the death of a child as a mother feels it. Even the +father cannot realize it thus. There is a vacancy in his home, and a +heaviness in his heart. There is a chain of association that at +set times comes round with its broken link; there are memories of +endearment, a keen sense of loss, a weeping over crushed hopes, and a +pain of wounded affliction. But the mother feels that one has been taken +away who was still closer to her heart. Hers has been the office of +constant ministration. Every gradation of feature has developed before +her eyes. She has detected every new gleam of intelligence. She heard +the first utterance of every new word. She has been the refuge of his +fears; the supply of his wants. And every task of affection has woven a +new link, and made dear to her its object. And when he dies, a portion +of her own life, as it were, dies. How can she give him up, with all +these memories, these associations? The timid hands that have so often +taken hers in trust and love, how can she fold them on his breast, and +surrender them to the cold clasp of death? The feet whose wanderings she +has watched so narrowly, how can she see them straitened to go down +into the dark valley? The head that she has pressed to her lips and her +bosom, that she has watched in burning sickness and in peaceful slumber, +a hair of which she could not see harmed, O! how can she consign it +to the chamber of the grave? The form that not for one night has been +beyond her vision or her knowledge, how can she put it away for the long +night of the sepulchre, to see it no more? Man has cares and toils that +draw away his thoughts and employ them; she sits in loneliness, and all +these memories, all these suggestions, crowd upon her. How can she bear +all this? She could not, were it not that her faith is as her affection; +and if the one is more deep and tender than in man, the other is more +simple and spontaneous, and takes confidently hold of the hand of God. + +Thus, then, do children awaken within us deep and mighty affections; and +is it not their mission to do so? Do we not see many beautiful offices +created and discharged by these affections--tender and far-reaching +relationships into which they run? Do we not see how they win the heart +from frivolity and selfishness, and make it aware of duties, and quick +with sympathies? I shall not enter into detailed considerations of the +results of this affection thus awakened in us by children. A little +reflection will render them obvious to you. Let me simply say, that in +awakening these affections children discharge an important and beautiful +mission. + +IV. I might speak of other offices discharged by little children; of the +influence upon us of their purity and their innocence; their importance +in the social state; of the benefits conferred upon us by the very +duties which we exercise toward them. But merely suggesting these, I +will speak at this time of but one more mission which they perform +for us, and this, my friends, is performed through sadness and through +tears. The little child performs it by its death. It has been with us a +little while. We have enjoyed its bright and innocent companionship by +the dusty highway of life, in the midst of its toils, its cares, and its +sin. It has been a gleam of sunshine and a voice of perpetual gladness +in our homes. We have learned from it blessed lessons of simplicity, +sincerity, purity, faith. It has unsealed within us this gushing, +never-ebbing tide of affection. Suddenly, it is taken away. We miss the +gleam of sunshine. We miss the voice of gladness. Our homes are dark and +silent. We ask, "Shall it not come again?" And the answer breaks upon +us through the cold gray silence, "Nevermore!" We say to ourselves again +and again, "Can it be possible?" "Do we not dream?" "Will not that life +and affection return to us?" "Nevermore!" O! nevermore! The heart is +like an empty mansion, and that word goes echoing through its desolate +chambers. We are stricken and afflicted. But must this, should this, be +always and only so? Are we not looking merely at the earthly aspect of +the event? Has it not a spiritual phase for us? Nay, do we not begin to +consider how through our temporal affection an eternal good is wrought +out for us? Do we begin to realize that in our souls we have derived +profit from it already? Do we not begin to learn that life is not a +holiday or a workday only, but a discipline,--that God conducts that +discipline in infinite wisdom and benevolence,--mingles the draught, +and, when he sees fit, infuses bitterness? Not that constant sweet +would not please us better, but that our discipline, which is of more +importance than our indulgence, will be more effectual thereby. This is +often talked about; I ask, do not we who are called upon to mourn the +loss of children realize it,--actually realize that that loss is for +our spiritual gain? If we do not, we are merely looking upon the earthly +phase of our loss. If we do not realize this spiritual good, we may. + +Yes, in death the little child has a mission for us. Through that very +departure he accomplishes for us, perhaps, what he could not accomplish +by his life. These affections which he has awakened, we have considered +how strong they are. They are stronger, are they not, than any +attachment to mere things of this earth? But that child has gone from +us,--gone into the unseen, the spiritual world. What then? Do our +affections sink back into our hearts,--become absorbed and forgotten? +O, no! They reach out after that little one; they follow him into the +unseen and spiritual world,--thus is it made a great and vivid reality +to us,--perhaps for the first time. We have talked of it, we have +believed in it; but now that our dead have gone into it, we have, as +it were, entered it ourselves. Its atmosphere is around us, chords of +affection draw us toward it, the faces of our departed ones look out +from it--and it is a reality. And is it not worth something to make it +such a reality? + +We are wedded to this world. It is beautiful, it is attractive, it is +real. Immortality is a pleasant thought. The spiritual land is an object +of faith. But the separation between this and that is cold to think of, +and hard to bear. It needs something stronger than this earth to draw us +toward that spiritual world; to break some of the thousand tendrils +that bind us here. My friends, though many powerful appeals, many solid +arguments, cannot break our affections from this earth, the hand of a +departed child can do it. The voice that calls us to unseen realities, +that bids us prepare for the heavenly land, that says from heights of +spiritual bliss and purity, "Come up hither;"--that voice that we loved +so on earth, and gladly can we rise and follow it. + +Behold, then, what a little child can perform for us through its death! +It makes real and attractive to us that spiritual world to which it has +gone, and calls our affections from earth to that true life which is the +great end of our being, which is the object of all our discipline, our +mingled joy and suffering, here upon this earth. That little child, gone +from its sufferings of early,--gone + + "Gentle and undefiled, with blessings on its head,"-- + +has it indeed become a very angel of God for us, and is it calling us +to a more spiritual life, and does it win us to heaven? Is its memory +around us like a pure presence into which no thought of sin can readily +enter? Or is it with us, even yet, a spiritual companion of our ways? +From being the guarded and the guided, has it risen in infant innocence, +yet in the knowledge and majesty of the immortal life, to be the guard +and the guide? Does it, indeed, make our hearts softer and purer, +and cause us to think more of duty, and live more holy, thus clothing +ourselves to go and dwell with it? Does it, by its death, accomplish all +this? O! most important, most glorious mission of all, if we only heed +it, if we only accept it. Then shall we behold already the wisdom and +benevolence of our Father breaking through the cloud that overshadows +us. Already shall we see that the tie, which seemed to be dropped and +broken, God has taken up to draw us closer to himself, and that it +is interwoven with his all-gracious plan for our spiritual profit and +perfection. And we can anticipate how it will all be reconciled, when +his own hand shall wipe away our tears, and the bliss of reunion shall +extract the last drop of bitterness from "the cup that our Father had +given us." + + + + +OUR RELATIONS TO THE DEPARTED + + + "She is not dead, but sleepeth." Luke viii.52 + +A Great peculiarity of the Christian religion is its transforming +or transmuting power. I speak not now of the regeneration which +accomplishes in the individual soul, but of the change it works upon +things without. It applies the touchstone to every fact of existence, +and exposes its real value. Looking through the lens of spiritual +observation, it throws the realities of life into a reverse perspective +from that which is seen by the sensual eye. Objects which the world +calls great it renders insignificant, and makes near and prominent +things which the frivolous put off. Thus the Christian, among other men, +often appears anomalous. Often, amidst the congratulations of the world, +he detects reason for mourning, and is penetrated with sorrow. On the +contrary, where others shrink, he walks undaunted, and converts the +scene of dread and suffering into an ante-chamber of heaven. In this +light, the Apostle Paul speaks of himself and others, "As sorrowful, yet +always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and +yet possessing all things." Indeed, all the beatitudes are based upon +this peculiarity; for the true blessing, the inward, everlasting riches, +are for those who, in the world's eye, are poor, and mourning, and +persecuted. Jesus himself weeps amid triumphant psalms and sounding +hosannas, while on the cross he utters the prayer of forgiveness, and +the ejaculation of peace. + +No wonder, then, that the believer views the ghastliest fact of all in +a consoling and even a beautiful aspect; and death itself becomes but +sleep. Well was that trait of our religion which I have now suggested +illustrated at the bed-side of Jairus' daughter. Well did that noisy, +lamenting group represent the worldly who read only the material fact, +or that flippant skepticism which laughs all supernatural truth to +scorn. And well did Jesus represent the spirit of his doctrine, and its +transforming power, when he exclaimed, "She is not dead, but sleepeth." + +Yes! beautifully has Christianity transformed death. To the eye of flesh +it was the final direction of our fate,--the consummate riddle in this +mystery of being,--the wreck of all our hopes,-- + + "The simple senses crowned his head, + Omega! thou art Lord, they said; + We find no motion in the dead." + +Ever, though with higher desires and better gleamings, the mind has +struggled and sunk before this fact of decay, and this awful silence of +nature; while in the waning light of the soul, and among the ashes of +the sepulchre, skepticism has built its dreary negation. And though the +mother could lay down her child without taking hints which God gave her +from every little flower that sprung on that grassy bed,--though the +unexhausted intellect has reasoned that we ought to live again, and +the affections, more oracular, swelling with the nature of their great +source, have prophesied that we shall,--never, until the revelation +of Christ descended into our souls, and illuminated all our spiritual +vision, have we been able to say certainly of death, it is a sleep. +This has made its outward semblance not that of cessation, but of +progression--not an end, but a change--converting its rocky couch to a +birth-chamber, over-casting its shadows with beams of eternal morning, +while behind its cold unconsciousness the unseen spirit broods into +higher life. "He fell asleep," says the sacred chronicler, speaking +of bloody Stephen. "Our friend Lazarus sleepeth," said Christ to his +disciples; and yet again, as here in the text, the beautiful synonyme is +repeated, "She is not dead, but sleepeth." + +But I proceed to remark, if the Christian religion thus transforms +death, or, in other words, abolishes the idea of its being annihilation, +or an end, then it gives us a new view of our relations to the departed. +What are these relations? The answers to this question will form the +burden of the present discourse. + +I. There is the relation of memory. It is true, we may argue that +this relation exists whether the Christian view of death be correct or +not;--so long have those who are now gone actually lived with us,--so +vivid are their images among the realities of the soul,--though the +grave should forever shut them from our communion. But this relation +of memory has peculiar propriety and efficacy when associated with a +Christian faith. If the dead live no more, what would memory be to us +but a spectre and a sting? Should we not then seek to repress those +tender recollections,--to close our eyes to those pale, sad visions of +departed love? Should we not invoke the glare and tumult of the world +to distract or absorb our thoughts? Would we not say, "Let it come, the +pleasure, the occupation of the hour, that we may think no more of the +dead, plucked from us forever,--let us drive thoughtlessly down this +swift current of life, since thought only harrows us,--let us drive +thoughtlessly down, enjoying all we can, until we too lie by the side +of those departed ones, like them to moulder in everlasting +unconsciousness." I don not say that this would always be the case +without religious hope, but it is a very natural condition of the +feelings in such circumstances,--it is the most humane alternative that +would then be left. At least, no one so well as the Christian can go +into the inner chambers of memory, feel the strength of its sad yet +blissful associations, and calmly invoke the communion of the dead. + +I speak not now of what occurs in those first bitter days of grief, when +the heart's wound bleeds afresh at every touch,--when we are continually +surprised by the bleak fact that the loved one is actually dead. But I +speak of those after seasons, those Indian summers of the soul, in which +all the present desolation is blended with the bloom and enjoyment of +the past. Then do we find that the tie which binds us so tenderly to the +departed is a strong and fruitful one. We love, in those still retired +seasons, to call up the images of the dead, to let them hover around us, +as real, for the hour, as any living forms. We linger in that communion, +with a pleasing melancholy. We call up all that was lovely in their +character, all that was delightful in their earthly intercourse. They +live again for us, and we for them. + +In this relation of memory, moreover, we realize the fact, that while +the departed were upon earth we enjoyed much with them. This is a truth +which in any estimate of our loss we should not overlook. Do we mourn +that the dead have been taken from us so soon? Are we not also thankful +that they were ours so long? In our grief over unfulfilled expectation, +do we cherish no gratitude for actual good? So much bliss has God +mingled in our cup of existence that the might have withheld. He lent it +to us thus far; why complain, rather, that he did not intrust us with it +longer? O! these fond recollections, this concentrated happiness of past +hours which we call up with tears, remind us that so much good we have +actually experienced. + +In close connection with this thought is the fact, that, by some +delicate process of refinement, we remember of the dead only what was +good. In the relation of memory we see them in their best manifestation, +we live over the hours of our past intercourse. Though in extraordinary +instances it may be true that "the evil which men do lives after them," +yet even in regard to the illustrious dead, their imperfections are +overlooked, and more justice is done to their virtues than in their own +time. Much more is this the case with those around whom our affections +cling more closely. The communion of memory, far more than that of life, +is unalloyed by sharp interruptions, or by any stain. That communion +now, though saddened, is tender, and without reproach. + +And even if we remember that while they lived our relations with them +were all beautiful, shall we not believe that when they were taken away +their earthly mission for us was fulfilled? Was not their departure as +essential a work of the divine beneficence as their bestowal? Who knows +but if they had overstayed the appointed hour, our relations with them +might have changed?--some new element of discontent and unhappiness +been introduced, which would have entirely altered the character of +our recollections? At least, to repeat what I have just suggested, +what Christian doubts that their taking away--this change from living +communion to the communion of memory--was for an end as wise and kind as +were all the love and intercourse so long vouchsafed to us? + +Vital, the, for the Christian, is this relation which we have with the +dead by memory. We linger upon it, and find in it a strange and +sweet attraction, and is not much of this because, though we may be +unconscious of it, the current of faith subtilely intermingles with +our grief, and gives its tone to our communion? We cannot consider the +departed as lost to us forever. The suggestion of rupture holds a latent +suggestion of reunion. The hues of memory are colored by the reflection +of hope. Religion transforms the condition of the departed for us, and +we consider them not as dead, but sleeping. + +II. There is another relation which we have with the dead,--the relation +of spiritual existence. We live with them, not only by communion with +the past, by images of memory, but by that fine, mysterious bond which +links us to all souls, and in which we live with them now and forever. +The faith that has converted death into a sleep has also transformed the +whole idea of life. If the one is but a halt in the eternal march,--a +slumbrous rest preceeding a new morning,--the other is but the flow +of one continuous stream, mated awhile with the flesh, but far more +intimately connected with all intelligences in the universe of God. What +are the conditions of our communion with the living--those with whom we +come in material contact? The eye, the lip, the hand, are but symbols, +interpretations;--behind these it is only spirit that communes with +spirit, even in the market or the street. But not to enter into so +subtle a discussion, of what kind are some of the best communions which +we have on earth? We take up some wise and virtuous book, and enter into +the author's mind. Seas separate us from him,--he knows us not; he never +hears our names. But have we not a close relation to him? Is there not +a strong bond of spiritual communion between us? Nay, may not the +intercourse we thus have with him be better and truer than any which we +could have from actual contact,--from local acquaintance? Then, some icy +barrier of etiquette might separate us,--some coldness of temperament +upon his part,--some spleen or disease; we might be shocked by some +temporary deformity; some little imperfection might betray itself. But +here, in his book, which we read three thousand miles away from him, we +receive his noblest thoughts,--his best spiritual revelations; and we +know him, and commune with him most intimately, not through local but +through spiritual affinities. + +And how pleasing is the though that not even death interrupts this +relation. Years, as well as miles--ages may separate us from the great +and good man; but we hold with him still that living communion of the +spirit. Our best life may flow to us from this communion. Some of our +richest spiritual treasures have been deposited in this intercourse of +thought. Some of our noblest hopes and resolutions have been animated by +those whose lips have long since been sealed,--whose very monuments have +crumbled. + +A dear friend goes away from us to a foreign land. We watch the +receeding sail, and feel that that is a bond between us, until it fades +away in the far blue horizon. Then it is a consolation to walk by the +shore of that sea, and to realize that the same waters lave the other +shore, where he dwells,--to watch some star, and know that at such an +hour his eye and thought are also directed to it. Thus the soul will not +entertain the idea of absolute separation, but makes all those material +objects agents for its affinities. But how much nearer does that absent +one come to us, when we know that at such an hour we both are kneeling +in prayer, and that our spirits meet, as it were, around the footstool +of God! + +Thus we see that even in life there are spiritual relations which bind +us to our fellows, and that often these are dearer and stronger than +those of local contact. Why should we suppose that death cuts off all +such affinities? It does not cut them off. It only removes the loved +from our converse and our sight; but if, when absent in some distant +land of this earth, we are conscious of still holding relations to them, +do we not retain the same though they have vanished into that mysterious +and unseen land which lies beyond the grave? "She is not dead, but +sleepeth." Christianity has taught us to look away from the ghastly +secrets of the sepulchre, and not consider that changing clay as the +friend we mourn, but as only the cast-off and mouldering garment. It has +kindled within us a lively appreciation of the continued existence of +those who have gone from us; taught us to feel that the thoughts, the +love, the real life of the departed, all, in fact, that communed with +us here below, still lives and acts. And our relations to them are +relations which we bear, not to abstractions of memory, to phantoms +of by-gone joy, but to spiritual intelligences, whose current of being +flows on uninterrupted, with whose current of being our own mingles. +I know not how it is with others, but to me there is inexpressible +consolation in this thought. + +But I would suggest that, as spiritual beings, we bear even a closer +relation to the departed. I said that Christianity has transformed the +whole idea of life. It has shown that we are essentially spirits, and +that our highest relations are spiritual. If so, it seems an arrogant +assumption to deny that any intercourse may exist between ourselves +and the spiritual world. Possessing as we do this mysterious nature, +throbbing with the attraction of the eternal sphere, who shall say that +it touches no spiritual confines,--that it has communion only with +the beings that we see? It is a dull atheism which repudiates all such +intimations as superstitious or absurd. To speak more distinctly, I +allude to the consoling thought which springs up almost intuitively, +that the departed may, at times, see us, and be present with us, though +we do not recognize them. For wise and good reasons, our senses may so +constrain us that we cannot perceive these spiritual beings. But the +same reasons do not exist to shut them from beholding and visiting us. +The most essential idea of the immortal state is that it yields certain +prerogatives which we cannot possess in our mortal condition. May it +not be, therefore, that while it is our lot to be restricted to sensuous +vision, and to behold only material forms, it is their privilege, having +received the spiritual sight, to see both spiritual and material things? + +Nor need we imagine that immortality implies distance from us,--that +change of state requires any great change of place. Looking through +this earthly glass, we see but darkly; but when death shatters it we +may behold close around us the friends we have loved, and find their +spiritual peculiarity is not incompatible with such near residence. +The homes of departed spirits may be all around us,--these spirits +themselves may be ever hovering near, unseen in our blindness of the +senses. At all events, we deem it one of the grand distinctions of +spirit that it is not confined to one region of space, but may pass, +quick as its own intelligence, from sphere to sphere. And while I would +rebuke rash speculation, I would also rebuke the cold materialism which +unhesitatingly rejects an idea like this which I have now suggested. + +I maintain, moreover, that such speculation is not all idle. It serves +to quicken within us the thought of how near the dead may be to us, to +purify that thought, and to breathe upon our fevered hearts a consoling +hope. And when I combine its intrinsic reasonableness with the spirit +and spiritualism of Christianity, and that intuitive suggestion which +springs up in so many souls, I can urge but faint objection to those +who entertain it, and would, if possible, share and diffuse the comfort +which it gives. Nearer, than, than we imagine--close as in mortal +contact, and more intimately--may be those whom we, with earthly vision +behold no more; visiting us in hours of loneliness, and affording unseen +companionship; watching us in the stillness of slumber, and reflecting +themselves in our dreams. + +But, whether we indulge this notion or not, let us realize the relation +which we have with the departed by the ties of mutual spirituality. Let +us not coldly restrict or weaken this relation. If the material world is +full of inexplicable things,--if we cannot explain the secret affinities +of the star and the flower,--let us feel how full of mystery and how +full of promise is this spiritual universe of which we are parts, and +whose conditions we so little know. Let us cherish that transcendent +faith, that quick, spiritual sympathy, which says of the departed, "They +are not dead, but sleeping." + +III. Finally, we have with the dead the relation of discipline. Though +we should see them only in the abstractions of memory,--though it should +be true that they have no spiritual intercourse with us,--yet their +agency in our behalf has not ceased. They still accomplish a work for +us. That work is in the moral efficacy of bereavement and sorrow. In +their going away they lead our thoughts out beyond the limits of the +world. They quicken us to an interest in the spiritual land, as one who +looks upon a map, and listlessly reads the name of some foreign shore, +so, often, do we open this blessed revelation not heeding its recital of +the immortal state. But as, when some friend goes to that distant coast, +that spot on the map becomes, of all places, most vivid and prominent, +so when our loved ones die, the spiritual country largely occupies our +thoughts and attracts our affections. They depart that we may be weaned +from earth. They ascend that we may "look steadfastly towards heaven." +If this is not our everlasting home, why should they all remain here +to cheat us with that thought? If we must seek a better country, should +there not be premonitions for us, breaking up, and farewells, and the +hurried departure of friends who are ready before us? I need not dwell +on this suggestion. We are too much of the earth, earthy, and bound +up in sensual interests. It is often needful that some shock of +disappointment should shake our idea of terrestrial stability--should +awake us to a sense of our spiritual relations--should strike open some +chasm in this dead, material wall, and let in the light of the unlimited +and immortal state to which we go. We need the discipline of bereavement +in temporal things, to win us to things eternal. And so, in their +departure, the loved accomplish for us a blessed and spiritual result, +and instead of being wholly lost to us, become bound to us by a new and +vital relation. + +But these loved ones depart, no merely to bind our affections to another +state, but to fit us better for the obligations of this. Perhaps, in the +indulgence of full communion, in the liquid ease of prosperity, we have +scantily discharged our social duties. We have not appreciated love, +because we have never felt its absence. We have shocked the tenderest +ties, because we were ignorant of their tenderness. We have withheld +good offices, because we knew not how rare is the opportunity to fulfil +them. But when one whom we love passes away, then, realizing a great +loss, we learn how vital was that relation, how inestimable the +privilege which is withdrawn forever. How quick then is our regret +for every harsh word which we have spoken to the departed, or for any +momentary alienation which we have indulged! This, however, should not +reduce us to a morbid sensitiveness, or an unavailing sorrow, seeing +that it is blended with so many pleasant memories; but it should teach +us our duty to the living. It should make our affections more diligent +and dutiful. It should check our hasty words, and assuage our passions. +It should cause us, day and night, to meet in kindness and part in +peace. Our social ties are golden links of uncertain tenure, and, one by +one, they drop away. Let us cherish a more constant love for those who +make up our family circle, for "not long may we stay." The allotments of +duty, perhaps, will soon distribute us into different spheres of action; +our lines, which now fall together in a pleasant place, will be wide +apart as the zones, or death will cast his shadow upon these familiar +faces, and interrupt our long communion. Let us, indeed, preserve this +temper with all men--those who meet us in the street, in the mart, in +the most casual or selfish concerns of life. We cannot remain together a +great while, at the longest. Let us meet, then, with kindness, that when +we part no pang may remain. Let not a single day bear witness to the +neglect or violation of any duty which shall lie hard in the heart when +it is excited to tender and solemn recollections. Let only good-will +beam from faces that so soon shall be changed. Let no root of bitterness +spring up in one man's bosom against another, when, ere long, nature +will plant flowers upon their common grave. "Let not the sun go down +upon our wrath," when his morning beams may search our accustomed places +for one or both of us, in vain. + +Thus, if the dead teach us to regard more dutifully the living, they +will accomplish for us a most beautiful discipline. Their departure may +also serve another end. It may teach us the great lessons of patience +and resignation. We have been surrounded by many blessings, and yet +perhaps, have indulged in fretfulness. A slight loss has irritated us. +We have chafed at ordinary disappointments, at little interruptions in +the current of our prosperity. We have been in the habit of murmuring. +And now this great grief has overtaken us, that we may see at what +little things we have complained,--that we may learn that there is a +meaning in trouble which should make us calm,--that we had no right to +these gifts, the privation of which has offended us, but that all +have flowed from that mercy which we have slightly acknowledged, and +peevishly accused. This great sorrow has stricken us, piercing through +bone and marrow, in order to reach our hearts, and touch the springs of +spiritual life within us, that henceforth, we may look upon all sorrow +in a new light. Little troubles have only disturbed the surface of our +nature, making it uneasy, and tossing it into fretful eddies; this heavy +calamity, like a mighty wind, has plunged into the very depths, and +turned up the foundations, leaving us, at length, purified and serene. I +believe we shall find it to be the general testimony that those who have +the least trouble are the loudest complainers; while, often, the souls +that have been fairly swept and winnowed by sorrow are the most patient +and Christ-like. The pressure of their woe has broken down all ordinary +reliances, and driven them directly to God, where they rest in sweet +submission and in calm assurance. Such is the discipline which may be +wrought out for us by the departure of those we love. Such, and other +spiritual results, their vanishing may secure for us, which we never +could have gained by their presence; and so it may be said by some +departing friend,--some one most dear to our hearts,--in a reverent +sense, as the Master said to his disciples, "It is expedient for you +that I go away; for if I go not away the Comforter will not come unto +you." + +As I have already touched upon the region of speculation, I hardly dare +drop a hint which belongs here, though it grows out of a remark made +under the last head. But I will say that it is not unreasonable to +suppose that the departed may perform a more close and personal agency +than this which I have just dwelt upon. Often, it may be, they are +permitted messengers for our welfare; guardians, whose invisible wings +shield us; teachers, whose unfelt instructions mysteriously sway us. +The child may thus discharge an office of more than filial love for the +bereaved parents. The mother may watch and minister to her child. +The father, by unseen influences, win to virtue the heart of his +poor prodigal. But whether this be so or not, certain are we that the +departed do discharge such an agency, if not by spiritual contact with +us, or direct labor in our behalf, by the chastening influence that +their memory sheds upon us, by uplifting our thoughts, by spiritualizing +our affections, by drawing our souls to communion with things celestial +and with God. + +Let us see to it, then, that we improve this discipline; that we quench +not the holy aspiration which springs up in our sorrow; that we neglect +not the opportunity when our hearts are softened; that we continue the +prayer which first escaped our lips as a sigh and a call of distress; +that the baptism of tears lets us into the new life of reconciliation, +and love, and holiness. Otherwise, the discipline is of no avail, and, +it may be, we harden under it. + +And, finally, let me say, that the faith by which we regard our +relations to the departed in the light that has been exhibited in this +discourse, is a faith that must be assimilated with our entire spiritual +nature. It must be illustrated in our daily conduct, and sanctify every +thought and motive of our hearts. We should not seek religion merely for +its consolations, and take it up as an occasional remedy. In this way +religion is injured. It is associated only with sorrow, and clothed, to +the eyes of men, in perpetual sadness. It is sought as the last resort, +the heart's extreme unction, when it has tried the world's nostrums +in vain. It is dissociated from things healthy and active,--from all +ordinary experiences,--from the great whole of life. It is consigned to +the darkened chamber of mourning, and the weary and disappointed spirit. +Besides, to seek religion only in sorrow,--to fly to it as the last +refuge,--argues an extreme selfishness. We have served the world and our +own wills, we have lived the life of the senses, and obeyed the dictates +of our passions so long as they could satisfy us, and now we turn to God +because we find that he only can avail us! We seek religion for the good +it can do us, not for the service we can render God. We lay hold of it +selfishly, as something instituted merely for our help, and lavish our +demands upon it for consolation, turning away sullen and skeptical, +it may be, if these demands are not immediately answered. Many come +to religion for consolation who never apply to it for instruction, +for sanctification, for obedience. Let us learn that we can claim its +privileges only by performing its duties. We can see with the eye of its +clear, consoling faith, only when it has spiritualized our entire being, +and been developed in our daily conduct. Affliction may open religious +ideas in the soul, but only by the soul's discipline will those ideas +expand until they become our most intimate life, and we habitually enjoy +celestial companionship, and that supersensual vision of faith by which +we learn our relations to the departed. + +That faith let us receive and cherish. If we live it we shall believe +it. No sophistry can steal it from us, no calamity make us surrender it. +But the keener the trial the closer will be our confidence. Standing +by the open sepulchre in which we see our friends, "not dead, but +sleeping," we shall say to insidious skepticism and gloomy doubt, in the +earnest words of the poet, + + "O! steal not thou my faith away, + Nor tempt to doubt a lowly mind. + Make all that earth can yield thy prey, + But leave this heavenly gift behind. + Our hope is but the seaboy's dream, + When loud winds rise in wrath and gloom; + Our life, a faint and fitful beam, + That lights us to the cold, dark tomb; + + Yet, since, as one from heaven has said, + There lies beyond that dreary bourn + A region where the faithful dead + Eternally forget to mourn, + Welcome the scoff, the sword, the chain, + The burning waste, the black abyss:-- + I shrink not from the path of pain, + Which leads me to that world of bliss. + + Then hush, thou troubled heart! be still;-- + Renounce thy vain philosophy;-- + Seek thou to work thy Maker's will, + And light from heaven shall break on thee. + 'Twill glad thee in the weary strife, + Where strong men sink with falling breath;-- + 'Twill cheer thee in the noon of life, + And bless thee in the night of death." + + + + +THE VOICES OF THE DEAD + + + "And by it he being dead yet speaketh." Hebrews xi. 4. + + +Much of the communion of this earth is not by speech or actual contact, +and the holiest influences fall upon us in silence. A monument or symbol +shall convey a meaning which cannot be expressed; and a token of some +departed one is more eloquent than words. The mere presence of a good +and holy personage will move us to reverence and admiration, though he +may say and do but little. So is there an impersonal presence of such an +one; and, though far away, he converses with us, teaches and incites us. +The organs of speech are only one method of the soul's expression; and +the best information which it receives comes without voice or sound. We +hear no vocal utterance from God, yet he speaks to us through all the +forms of nature. In the blue, ever-arching heaven he tells us of his +comprehensive care and tender pity, and "the unwearied sun" proclaims +his constant and universal benevolence. The air that wraps us close +breathes of his intimate and all-pervading spirit; and the illimitable +space, and the stars that sparkle abroad without number, show forth his +majesty and suggest infinitude. The gush of silent prayer--the sublimest +mood of the spirit--is when we are so near to him that words cannot come +between; and the power of his presence is felt the most, felt in the +profoundest deep of our nature, when the curtains of his pavilion +hang motionless around us. And it is so, I repeat, with all our best +communions. The holiest lessons are not in the word, but the life. The +virtues that attract us most are silent. The most beautiful charities +go noiseless on their mission. The two mites reveal the spiritual +wealth beneath the poor widow's weeds; the alabaster box of ointment is +fragrant with Mary's gratitude; the look of Christ rebukes Peter into +penitence; and by his faith Abel, being dead, yet speaketh. + +Yes, even the dead, long gone from us, returning no more, their places +left vacant, their lineaments dimly remembered, their bodies mouldering +back to dust, even these have communion with us; and to speak of "the +voices of the dead" is no mere fancy. And it is to that subject that I +would call your attention, in the remainder of a brief discourse. + +"He being dead yet speaketh." The departed have voices for us. In order +to illustrate this, I remark, in the first place, that the dead speak to +us, and commune with us, through the works which they have left behind +them. As the islands of the sea are the built-up casements of myriads +of departed lives,--as the earth itself is a great catacomb,--so we who +live and move upon its surface inherit the productions and enjoy the +fruits of the dead. They have bequeathed to us by far the larger portion +of all that influences our thoughts, or mingles with the circumstances +of our daily life. We walk through the streets they laid out. We inhabit +the houses they built. We practise the customs they established. We +gather wisdom from books they wrote. We pluck the ripe clusters of their +experience. We boast in their achievements. And by these they speak to +us. Every device and influence they have left behind tells their story, +and is a voice of the dead. We feel this more impressively when we enter +the customary place of one recently departed, and look around upon his +work. The half-finished labor, the utensils hastily thrown aside, +the material that exercised his care and received his last touch, all +express him, and seem alive with his presence. By them, though dead, he +speaketh to us, with a freshness and tone like his words of yesterday. +How touching are those sketched forms, those unfilled outlines in +that picture which employed so fully the time and genius of the +great artist--Belshazzar's feast! In the incomplete process, the +transition-state of an idea from its conception to its realization, we +are brought closer to the mind of the artist; we detect its springs +and hidden workings, and therefore feel its reality more than in +the finished effort. And this is one reason why we are impressed at +beholding the work just left than in gazing upon one that has been for +a long time abandoned. Having had actual communion with the contriving +mind, we recognize its presence more readily in its production; or else +the recency of the departure heightens the expressiveness with which +everything speaks of the departed. The dead child's cast-off garment, +the toy just tossed aside, startles us as though with his renewed +presence. A year hence, they will suggest him to us, but with a +different effect. + +But though not with such an impressive tone, yet just as much, in fact, +do the productions of those long gone speak to us. Their minds are +expressed there, and a living voice can do little more. Nay, we are +admitted to a more intimate knowledge of them than was possessed by +their contemporaries. The work they leave behind them is the sum-total +of their lives--expresses their ruling passion--reveals, perhaps, their +real sentiment. To the eyes of those placed on the stage with them, they +walked as in a show, and each life was a narrative gradually unfolding +itself. We discover the moral. We see the results of that completed +history. We judge the quality and value of that life by the residuum. As +"a prophet has no honor in his own country," so one may be misconceived +in his own time, both to his undue disparagement, and his undue +exaltation; therefore can another age better write his biography than +his own. His work, his permanent result, speaks for him better--at least +truer--than he spoke for himself. The rich man's wealth,--the sumptuous +property, the golden pile that he has left behind him;--by it, being +dead, does he not yet speak to us? Have we not, in that gorgeous result +of toiling days and anxious nights,--of brain-sweat and soul-rack,--the +man himself, the cardinal purpose, the very life of his soul? which we +might have surmised while he lived and wrought, but which, now that it +remains the whole sum and substance of his mortal being, speaks far +more emphatically than could any other voice he might have used. The +expressive lineaments of the marble, the pictured canvas, the immortal +poem;--by it, Genius, being dead, yet speaketh. To us, and not to its +own time, are unhoarded the wealth of its thought and the glory of its +inspiration. When it is gone,--when its lips are silent, and its heart +still,--then is revealed the cherished secret over which it toiled, +which was elaborated from the living alembic of the soul, through +painful days and weary nights,--the sentiment which could not find +expression to contemporaries,--the gift, the greatness, the lyric power, +which was disguised and unknown so long. Who, that has communed with +the work of such a spirit, has not felt in every line that thrilled his +soul, in every wondrous lineament that stamped itself upon his memory +forever, that the dead can speak, yes, that they have voices which +speak most truly, most emphatically when they are dead? So does Industry +speak, in its noble monuments, its precious fruits! So does Maternal +Affection speak, in a chord that vibrates in the hardest heart, in the +pure and better sentiment of after-years. So does Patriotism speak, in +the soil liberated and enriched by its sufferings. So does the martyr +speak, in the truth which triumphs by his sacrifice. So does the great +man speak, in his life and deeds, glowing on the storied page, so does +the good man speak, in the character and influence which he leaves +behind him. The voices of the dead come to us from their works, from +their results and these are all around us. + +But I remark, in the second place, that the dead speak to us in memory +and association. If their voices may be constantly heard in their works, +we do not always heed them; neither have we that care and attachment for +the great congregation of the departed which will at any time call them +up vividly before us. But in that congregation there are those whom we +have known intimately and fondly, whom we cherished with our best love, +who lay close to our bosoms. And these speak to us in a more private and +peculiar manner,--in mementos that flash upon us the whole person of the +departed, every physical and spiritual lineament--in consecrated hours +of recollection that upon up all the train of the past, and re-twine its +broken ties around our hearts, and make its endearments present still. +Then, then, though dead, they speak to us. It needs not the vocal +utterance, nor the living presence, but the mood that transforms the +scene and the hour supplies these. That face that has slept so long +in the grave, now bending upon us, pale and silent, but affectionate +still,--that more vivid recollection of every feature, tone, and +movement, that brings before us the departed just as we knew them in the +full flush of life and health,--that soft and consecrating spell which +falls upon us, drawing in all our thoughts from the present, arresting, +as it were, the current of our being, and turning it back and holding it +still as the flood of actual life rushes by us,--while in that trance +of soul the beings of the past are shadowed--old friends, old days, old +scenes recur, familiar looks beam close upon us, familiar words reecho +in our ears, and we are closed up and absorbed with the by-gone, until +tears dissolve the film from our eyes, and some shock of the actual +wakes us from our reverie;--all these, I say make the dead to commune +with us as really as though in bodily form they should come out from +the chambers of their mysterious silence, and speak to us. And if life +consists in experiences, and not mere physical relations,--and if love +and communion belong to that experience, though they take place in +meditation, or in dreams, or by actual contact,--then, in that hour of +remembrance, have we really lived with the departed, and the departed +have come back and lived with us. Though dead, they have spoken to us. +And though memory sometimes induces the spirit of heaviness,--though it +is often the agent of conscience, and wakens u to chastise,--yet, it is +wonderful how, from events that were deeply mingled with pain, it +will extract an element of sweetness. A writer, in relating one of +the experiences of her sick-room, has illustrated this. In an hour of +suffering, when no one was near here, she went out from her bed and her +room to another apartment, and looked out upon a glorious landscape of +sunrise and spring-time. "I was suffering too much to enjoy this picture +at the moment," she says, "but how was it at the end of the year? The +pains of all those hours were annihilated,--as completely vanished as if +they had never been; while the momentary peep behind the window-curtain +made me possessor of this radiant picture for evermore." "Whence came +this wide difference," she asks, "between the good and the evil? Because +good is indissolubly connected with ideas,--with the unseen realities +which are indestructible." And though the illustration which she thus +gives may bear the impression of an individual personality, instead of +a universal truth, still, in the instance to which I apply it, I believe +it will very generally hold true, that memory leaves a pleasant rather +than a painful impression. At least, there is so much that is pleasant +mingled with it that we would not willingly lose the faculty of +memory,--the consciousness that we can thus call back the dead, and hear +their voices,--that we have the power of softening the rugged realities +which only suggest our loss and disappointment, by transferring the +scene and the hour to the past and the departed. And, as our conceptions +become more and more spiritual, we shall find the real to be less +dependent upon the outward and the visible,--we shall learn how much +life there is in a thought,--how veritable are the communions of spirit; +and the hour in which memory gives us the vision of the dead will be +prized by us as an hour of actual experience and such opportunities will +grow more precious to us. No, we would not willingly lose this power +of memory. One would not say, "Let the dead never come back to me in a +thought, or a dream; let them never glide before me in the still +watch of meditation; let me see, let me hear them no more, even in +fancy;"--not one of us would say this; and, therefore, it is +evident, that whatever painful circumstance memory or association may +recall,--even though it cause us to go out and weep bitterly,--there +is a sacred pleasure, a tender melancholy, that speaks to us in these +voices of the dead, which we are willing to cherish and repeat. It makes +our tears soft and sanctifying as they fall; it makes our hearts purer +and better,--makes them stronger for the conflict of life. + +I remark, finally, that the dead speak to us in those religious +suggestions--those consolations, invitations, and hopes--which the +bereaved spirit indulges. Our meditations, concerning them naturally +draw us more closely to these spiritual realities which lie beyond the +grave, and beget in us those holier sentiments which we need. That such +is the tendency of these recollections experience assures us. They +open for us a new order of thought; they bring us in contact with the +loftiest but most neglected truths. Even the hardest heart feels this +influence. It is softened by the stroke of bereavement and, for the time +being, a chastening influence falls upon it, and it always thinks of +the dead with tenderness and awe. They speak to our affections with an +irresistible influence; they soothe our turbulent passions with their +mild and holy calmness; they rebuke us in their spiritual majesty for +our sensuality and our sin. They have departed, but they are not silent. +Though dead, they speak to us. Sweet and sanctifying is their communion +with us. They utter words of warning, too, and speak to us by the silent +eloquence of example. By this they bid us imitate all that was good in +their lives, all that is dear to remember. By this, too, they tell us +that we are passing swiftly from the earth, and hastening to join their +number. A little while ago, and they were as we are;--a little while +hence, and we shall be as they. Our work, like theirs, will be left +behind to speak for us. How important, then, that we consider what work +we do! They assure us that nothing is perpetual here. They bid us not +fasten our affections upon earth. In long procession they pass us by, +with solemn voices telling of their love and hatred, their interests +and cares, their work and device;--all abandoned now and passed away, as +little worth as the dust that blows across their graves. Upon all that +was theirs, upon every memorial of them, broods a melancholy dimness and +silence. They recede more and more from the associations of the living. +New tides of life roll through the cities of their habitation, and upon +the foot-worn pavements of their traffic other feet are busy. Their +lovely labor, or their stately pomp, is forgotten. No one weeps or cares +for them. Their solicitous monuments are unheeded. The companions of +their youth have rejoined them. The young, who scarcely remembered them, +are giving way to another generation. The places that knew them know +them no longer. "This, this," their solemn voices preach to us, "is the +changeableness of earth, and the emptiness of its pursuits!" They urge +us to seek the noblest end, the unfailing treasure. They bid us to find +our hope and our rest, our only constant joy in Him, who alone, amid +this mutability and decay, is permanent,--in God! + +Well, then, is it for us to listen to the voices of the dead. By so +doing, we are better fitted for life, and for death. From that audience +we go purified and strengthened into the varied discipline of our mortal +state. We are willing to stay, knowing that the dead are so near us, and +that our communion with them may be so intimate. We are willing to go, +seeing that we shall not be widely separated from those we leave behind. +We will toil in our lot while God pleases, and when he summons us we +will calmly depart. When the silver cord becomes untwined, and the +golden bond broken,--when the wheel of action stands still in the +exhausted cistern of our life,--may we lie down in the light of that +faith which makes so beautiful the face of the dying Christian, and has +converted death's ghastly silence to a peaceful sleep; may we rise to a +holier and more visible communion, in the land without a sin and without +a tear; where the dead shall be closer to us than in this life; where +not the partition of a shadow, or a doubt, shall come between. + + + + +MYSTERY AND FAITH + + + "For we walk by faith, not by sight." II Corinthians v. 7. + +It needs only common experience, and but little of that, to convince us +that this life is full of mystery, and at every step we take demands of +us faith. For at every step we take we literally walk by faith; in every +work we do we must have confidence in something which is not by sight, +in something which is not yet demonstrated. Skepticism carried to its +ultimate consequences is the negation of everything. It closes up the +issues of all knowledge, and sunders every ligament that binds us +to practical life. We must have faith in something or we stand on +no promises; we can predicate nothing. It may be said that in the +experience of the past we have a guide for the future; but then, must we +not have faith in experience? Do we not trust something which is not +yet demonstrated when we say "This cause which produced that effect +yesterday will produce a similar effect today or tomorrow?" How do we +know--positively know, that it will produce that effect, and what are +the grounds of our knowledge? This boasted "cause and effect," this +"experience," what right have we to rely upon it for one moment of +the future? Not for that moment has it demonstrated anything;--it +demonstrated for the time being, and the time being only; and our +confidence that it will do so again is faith, not sight--faith in +cause and effect, faith in experience, but faith after all. Hume, the +philosopher, has illustrated the positions which have now been taken. +"As to past experience," says he, "it can be allowed to give direct +and certain information of those precise objects only, and that precise +period of time which fell under its cognizance; but why this experience +should be extended to future times, and to other objects, which for +aught we know may be only in appearance similar; this is the main +question on which I would insist. The bread which I formerly ate +nourished me; that is, a body of such sensible qualities was, at that +time, endued with such secret powers; but does it follow that other +bread must also nourish me at another time, and that like sensible +qualities must also be attended with like secret powers? The consequence +seems nowise necessary." And yet we eat our bread, day by day, without a +doubt or a fear. We sow the grain and we reap the wheat, but for all the +work is done in faith, and the whole process is steeped in mystery. +In that scattering of the golden seed, what confidence is expressed +in elements that we cannot see, in beneficent agencies that we cannot +control, in results that are beyond our power, and that in their growth +and development are full of wonder exceeding our wisdom. Give up faith; +say that we will act only upon that which is demonstrated and known, +say that we will walk only so far as sight reaches, and we completely +separate the present from the future, and stop all the mechanism of +practical life. + +But if we take a wider view of things, and consider this material +universe in which we live, the great fact of mystery and the need of +faith will be urged upon us by a larger and more impressive teaching. +The more we learn of nature the more clearly is revealed to us this +fact--that we know less than we thought we did; positively, we know +more, but relatively we know less, because as we have advanced nature +has stretched out into wider and wider relations. The department that +was unknown to us yesterday is explored to-day. Yesterday, we thought +it was all that remained to be explored, but the torch of investigation +that guided us through it now flares out upon new regions we did not +see before. Like one who goes with a candle into some immense cavern, +presently a little circle becomes clear, the shadows vanish before him, +and undefined forms grow distinct, he thinks he is near the end, when +lo! what seemed a solid boundary of rock dissolves and floats away into +a depth of darkness, the path opens into an immense void, new shapes of +mystery start out, and he learns this much that he did not know before, +that instead of being near the end, he is only upon the threshold. We do +not mean to imply by this that we have no positive knowledge, or that +we do not increase in knowledge. With every new discovery we positively +know more and more. But the new discovery reveals the fact that more is +yet to be known; it lays open new regions, it unfolds new relations that +we had not before suspected. + +We follow some tiny thread a little way, and hold it secure, but it is +connected with another ligament, and this branches out into a third; and +instead of exhausting the matter, we find ourselves at the root of an +infinite series, of an immense relationship, upon which we have only +just opened; and yet what we have is positive knowledge, is something +more added to our stock. The circle of the known has positively widened, +but the horizon of the unknown has widened also, and, instead of being +to us now, as it seemed some time ago, a solid and ultimate limit, it +is only an ethereal wall, only to us a relative boundary, and behind are +infinite depths and mystery. Our scientific knowledge at the present day +reaches this grand result--it clears up the deception that the system +of nature is mere flat, dead materiality, a few mechanical laws, a few +rigid forms. It shows that these are only the husks, the outer garments +of mighty forces of subtile, far-reaching agencies; and the most common, +every-day truths, that seemed stale and exhausted, become illuminated +with infinite meaning, and are the blossoms of an infinite life. + +The wider our circle of discovery, the wider our wonder; the more +startling our conclusions, the more perplexing our questions. We have +not exhausted the universe;--we have just begun to see its harmony of +proportion and of relations, without penetrating a fathom into its +real life. How and what is that power that works in the shooting of +a crystal, and binds the obedience of a star; that shimmers in the +northern Aurora, and connects by its attraction the aggregated universe; +that by its unseen forces, its all-prevalent jurisdiction, holds the +little compass to the north, blooms in the nebula and the flower, weaves +the garment of earth and the veil of heaven, darts out in lightning, +spins the calm motion of the planets, and presides mysteriously over +all motion and all life? And what is life, and what is death, and what +a thousand things that we touch, and experience, and think we know all +about? O! as science, as nature opens upon us, we find mystery after +mystery, and the demand upon the human soul if for faith, faith in high, +yes, in spiritual realities; and this materialism that would shut us in +to death and sense, that denies all spirit and all miracle, is shattered +like a crystal sphere, and the soul rushes out into wide orbits and +infinite revolutions, into life, and light, and power, that are of +eternity,--that are of God! + +Thus the scale is prepared for us to rise from things of sense to things +of spirit, to rise from faith in nature to faith in Revelation, from +the faith of LaPlace to the faith of Paul. No one who has studied nature +will reject Christianity because it reveals truths that he cannot +see with his naked eye,--because it speaks of things that he cannot +comprehend. No one who has considered the shooting of a green blade +will dogmatically deny its miracles. No one who has found in the natural +world the intelligent wisdom that pervades all things, will wonder that +he discovers a revelation of perfect love in Jesus Christ. "We walk by +faith, not by sight," said Paul. So says every Christian; and it is of +all things the most rational. Faith in something higher and greater +than we can see, faith in something above this narrow scene, faith in +something beyond this present life, faith in realities that are not of +time or sense; from all that we have now considered we claim such faith +to be most rational, most natural. God, spirit, immortality, instead +of being inconsistent with what we know, are what we most legitimately +deduce from it,--what we might expect from the light that trembles +behind the curtain of mystery which bounds all our sensuous knowledge. +We do believe, the veriest skeptic believes in something behind that +curtain of mystery; nor can he withhold his faith because it attaches to +that which is unseen and incomprehensible, without, as has already +been shown, cutting every nerve that binds us to practical life, and +smothering every suggestion that speaks from outward nature. If he do +not believe in a God, then, or in Christ, or in immortality, let him not +sneer at others because they walk by faith and not by sight; for he also +must do so, though his faith be not in such high truths, such spiritual +realities. + +The Christian's faith is an Infinite Father and an immortal life, and +though he cannot see them, cannot come in material contact with them, he +believes them to be the greatest of all realities, and he sees them by +faith, a medium as legitimate as that of sight. They are mysteries, +but everything contains a mystery; they demand of him what every day's, +every hour's events demand of him--faith. Let us understand, however, +that faith is not the surrendering of our minds to that which is +irrational and inconsistent. These terms should not be confounded with +the mysterious and the incomprehensible. That the earth moves and yet +stands still is not a proposition that demands faith. It is in the +province of reason to say that it cannot move and stand still at the +same time. It is an inconsistency. But how the earth moves on its axis, +what is that law that makes it move, is an incomprehensibility. An +incomprehensibility is one thing, an inconsistency is another thing. +The one conflicts with our reason, the other is beyond it. In that which +conflicts with our reason we cannot have faith, but as to that which is +beyond it we exercise faith every day; for we literally walk by faith +and not by sight. + +Who shall say, then, that God, immortality, and those high truths +revealed by Jesus, are inconsistent? Do they not conform to the highest +reason? Do not our deepest intuitions demand that these revelations +should be true? Consult your nature, examine your own heart, consider +what you are, what you want, what you feel, deeply want, keenly feel, +and then say whether the Revelation of a God, a Father, and an immortal +life, satisfies you as nothing else can. Take them away, and would there +not be a dreary and overwhelming void? And because you have not seen +God, because you have not realized immortality, because they reach +beyond your present vision, because the grave shuts you in, because they +are high and transcendent truths, will you reject them? Do so, and try +to walk by sight alone. With that nature of yours, so full of love, with +that intellect of yours so limitless in capacity, you are apparently a +child of the elements, a thing of physical nature, born of the dust, +and returning to it. With desires that reach out beyond the stars, with +faculties that in this life just begin to bud, with affections whose +bleeding tendrils cling around the departed, wrestle with death, and say +to the grave, "Give up the dead! they are not thine, but mine; I +feel they must be mine forever," with all these desires, capacities, +affections, you walk--so far as mere sight helps you--among graves and +decay, with nothing more enduring, nothing better, than three-score +years and ten, the clods of the valley, the crumbling bone, and +the dissolving dust! Because God and immortality are mysterious, +incomprehensible, reject them, and walk only by sight? The humblest +outpouring of human affection rebukes thy skepticism; the most narrow +degree of human intellect prophesies beyond all this; the darkest heart, +with that spark of eternal life, the yearning that moves beneath all +its sensualities, and speaks for better, for more enduring things,--that +rebukes thee; and in man's moral nature, in his heart and his mind, +there is that which only can be satisfied, only can be explained by +God and immortality. They alone, then, are rational, they alone have +comprehensive vision, who walk by faith, and not by sight. + +Mystery and faith, then; let what we have said concerning these be not +alone for the skeptic, but for the Christian who has faith but cannot +fully justify and confirm it, or who feels it faltering under some heavy +burden, or who is overwhelmed by the magnitude of the truths to which +it attaches, or who wishes, with a kind of half-doubt, that these things +might be seen and felt. They are great, they are incomprehensibly great; +but are they therefore untrue? Does not your heart of hearts tell you +they are true? Does not that Revelation of Christ steal into your soul +and feed it, satisfy it, as nothing else can, with a warm, benignant +power, that makes you know its truth? + +Mysteries are all about us, but faith sees light beyond and around them +all. Have you recently laid down the dead in their place of rest? Cold +and crushing, then, is that feeling of vacancy, that dreary sense of +loss, that rushes upon you, as you look through the desolate chambers +without,--through the desolate chambers of the heart within. But will +not He who calls out from the very dust where yon sleepers lie the +flowers of summer, and who, in the snows that enwrap their bed, +cherishes the germs of the glorious springtime, will not He who works +out this beautiful mystery in nature bring life back from the tomb, +and light out of darkness? It is truly a great mystery; but everything +within us responds to it as reasonable; and though it demands our faith, +who, who, in this limited and changing world, can walk by sight alone? + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Crown of Thorns, by E. H. Chapin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CROWN OF THORNS *** + +***** This file should be named 1959.txt or 1959.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/5/1959/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/1959.zip b/1959.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..46f47e9 --- /dev/null +++ b/1959.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c626f84 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #1959 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1959) diff --git a/old/thrns10.txt b/old/thrns10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0be1489 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/thrns10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4310 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext The Crown of Thorns, by E. H. Chapin + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +The Crown of Thorns + +A token for the sorrowing + +by E. H. Chapin + +November, 1999 [Etext #1959] + + +The Project Gutenberg Etext The Crown of Thorns, by E. H. Chapin +******This file should be named thrns10.txt or thrns10.zip****** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, thrns11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, thrns10a.txt + + +Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions, +all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a +copyright notice is included. Therefore, we usually do NOT keep any +of these books in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. + +Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an +up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes +in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has +a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a +look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a +new copy has at least one byte more or less. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-six text +files per month, or 432 more Etexts in 1999 for a total of 2000+ +If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the +total should reach over 200 billion Etexts given away this year. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only ~5% of the present number of computer users. + +At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third +of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 3,333 Etexts unless we +manage to get some real funding; currently our funding is mostly +from Michael Hart's salary at Carnegie-Mellon University, and an +assortment of sporadic gifts; this salary is only good for a few +more years, so we are looking for something to replace it, as we +don't want Project Gutenberg to be so dependent on one person. + +We need your donations more than ever! + + +All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/CMU": and are +tax deductible to the extent allowable by law. (CMU = Carnegie- +Mellon University). + +For these and other matters, please mail to: + +Project Gutenberg +P. O. Box 2782 +Champaign, IL 61825 + +When all other email fails. . .try our Executive Director: +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> +hart@pobox.com forwards to hart@prairienet.org and archive.org +if your mail bounces from archive.org, I will still see it, if +it bounces from prairienet.org, better resend later on. . . . + +We would prefer to send you this information by email. + +****** + +To access Project Gutenberg etexts, use any Web browser +to view http://promo.net/pg. This site lists Etexts by +author and by title, and includes information about how +to get involved with Project Gutenberg. You could also +download our past Newsletters, or subscribe here. This +is one of our major sites, please email hart@pobox.com, +for a more complete list of our various sites. + +To go directly to the etext collections, use FTP or any +Web browser to visit a Project Gutenberg mirror (mirror +sites are available on 7 continents; mirrors are listed +at http://promo.net/pg). + +Mac users, do NOT point and click, typing works better. + +Example FTP session: + +ftp sunsite.unc.edu +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd pub/docs/books/gutenberg +cd etext90 through etext99 +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET GUTINDEX.?? [to get a year's listing of books, e.g., GUTINDEX.99] +GET GUTINDEX.ALL [to get a listing of ALL books] + +*** + +**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor** + +(Three Pages) + + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG- +tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor +Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at +Carnegie-Mellon University (the "Project"). Among other +things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this +etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors, +officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost +and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or +indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause: +[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification, +or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word pro- + cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the + net profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + + + + + + +The Crown of Thorns + +A token for the sorrowing + + +by E. H. Chapin + + + + +PREFACE. + + +One of the discourses in this volume-"The Mission of Little +Children"--was written just after the death of a dear son, +and was published in pamphlet form. The edition having +become exhausted sooner than the demand, it was deemed +advisable to reprint it; and accordingly it is now presented +to the reader, accompanied by others of a similar cast, most +of them growing out of the same experience. This fact will +account for any repetition of sentiment which may appear in +these discourses, especially as they were written without any +reference to one another. + +To the sorrowing, then, this little volume is tendered, with +the author's sympathy and affection. Upon its pages he has +poured out some of the sentiments of his own heartfelt +experience, knowing that they will find a response in theirs, +and hoping that the book may do a work of consolation and of +healing. If it impresses upon any the general sentiment +which it contains, --the sentiment of religious resignation +and triumph in affliction; if it shall cause any tearful +vision to take the Christian view of sorrow; if it shall +teach any troubled soul to endure and hope; if it shall lead +any weary spirit to the Fountain of consolation; in one word, +if it shall help any, by Christ's strength, to weave the +thorns that wound them into a crown, I shall be richly +rewarded, and, I trust, grateful to that God to whose service +I dedicate this book, invoking his blessing upon it. + +E. H. C. + +May, 1860 + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +THE THREE TABERNACLES 11 +THE SHADOW OF DISAPPOINTMENT 41 +LIFE A TALE 67 +THE CHRISTIAN VIEW OF SORROW 99 +CHRISTIAN CONSOLATION IN LONELINESS 121 +RESIGNATION 143 +THE MISSION OF LITTLE CHILDREN 167 +OUR RELATIONS TO THE DEPARTED 191 +THE VOICES OF THE DEAD 223 +MYSTERY AND FAITH 243 + + + + +THE THREE TABERNACLES + + +And Peter answered and said to Jesus, Master, it is good for +us to be here: and let us make three tabernacles , one for +thee, and one for Moses, and one for Elias. MARK ix. 5. + + +Caught up in glory and in rapture, the Apostle seems to have +forgotten the world from which he had ascended, and to which +he still belonged, and to have craved permanent shelter and +extatic communion within the mystic splendors that brightened +the Mount of Transfiguration. But it was true, not only as +to the confusion of his faculties, but the purport of his +desire, that "he knew not what he said." For even "while he +yet spake," the cloud overshadowed them, the heavenly forms +vanished, they found themselves with Jesus alone, and an +awful Voice summoned them from contemplation to duty, --from +vision to work. + +Peter knew not what he said. He would have converted the +means into an end. He and his fellow-disciples had been +called to follow Christ not that they might see visions, but +had been permitted to see visions that they might follow +Christ. Just previous to that celestial interview, Jesus had +announced to them his own painful doom, and had swept away +their conceit of Messianic glories involved with earthly pomp +and dominion, by his declaration of the self-denial, the +shame, and the suffering, which lay in the path of those who +really espoused his cause and entered into his kingdom. They +needed such a revelation as this, then, upon the Mount of +Transfiguration, to support them under the stroke which had +shaken their earthly delusion, and let in glimpses of the +sadder truth. It was well that they should behold the +leaders of the old dispensation confirming and ministering to +the greatness of the new, and the religion which was to go +down into the dark places of the earth made manifest in its +authority and its source from Heaven. It was well that they +should see their Master glorified, that they might be +strengthened to see him crucified. It was well that Moses +and Elias stood at the font, when they were about to be. +baptized into their apostleship of suffering, and labor, and +helping finish the work which these glorious elders helped +begin. But that great work still lay before them, and to +rest here would be to stop upon the threshold;--to have kept +the vision would have thwarted the purpose. Upon a far +higher summit, and at a far distant time--with fields of toil +and tracts of blood between--would that which was meant as an +inspiration for their souls become fixed for their sight, and +tabernacles that should never perish enclose a glory that +should never pass away. + +You may have anticipated the lessons for ourselves which I +propose to draw from this unconsidered request of Peter. At +least, you will readily perceive that it does contain +suggestions applicable to our daily life. For I proceed, at +once, to ask you if it is not a fact that often we would like +to remain where, and to have what, is not best for us? Do +not illustrations of this simple thought occur easily to your +minds? Does not man often desire, as it were, to build his +tabernacles here or there, when due consideration, and after- +experience will convince him that it was not the place to +abide; that it was better that the good be craved, or the +class of relations to which he clung, should not be +permanent? In order to give effect to this train of +reflection, let me direct you to some specific instances in +which this desire is manifested. + +Perhaps I may say, without any over-refinement upon my topic, +that there are three things in life to which the desires of +men especially cling, --three tabernacles which upon the +slope of this world they would like to build. I speak now, +it is to be remembered, of desires of impulse, not of +deliberation, --of desires often felt, if not expressed. And +I say, in the first place, that there are certain conditions +in life itself that it sometimes appears desirable to retain. +Sometimes, from the heart of a man, there breaks forth a sigh +for perpetual youth. In the perplexities of mature years, -- +in the experience of selfishness, and hollowness, and bitter +disappointment; in the surfeit of pleasure; in utter +weariness of the world, --he exclaims, "O! give me back that +sweet morning of my days, when all my feelings were fresh, +and the heart was wet with a perpetual dew. Give me the +untried strength; the undeceived trust; the credulous +imagination, that bathed all things in molten glory, and +filled the unknown world with infinite possibilities." Sad +with skepticism, and tired with speculation, he cries out for +that faith that needed no other confirmation than the tones +of a mother's voice, and found God everywhere in the soft +pressure of her love; and when his steps begin to hesitate, +and he finds himself among the long shadows, and the frailty +and fear of the body overcome the prophecies of the soul, and +no religious assurance lights and lifts up his mind, how he +wishes for some fountain of restoration that shall bring back +his bloom and his strength, and make him always young! "Why +have such experiences as decline, and decay, and death ?" he +asks. "Is it not good for us to be ever young,? Why should +not the body be a tabernacle of constant youth, and life be +always thus fresh, and buoyant, and innocent, and confiding ? +Or, if we must, at last, die, why all this sad experience, -- +this incoming of weakness, --this slipping away of life and +power?" + +But this is a feeling which no wise or good man ever +cherishes long,. For he knows that the richest experiences, +and the best achievements of life, come after the period of +youth; spring out of this very sadness, and suffering, and +rough struggle in the world, which an unthinking +sentimentality deplores. Ah, my friends, in spite of our +trials, our weariness, our sad knowledge of men and things; +in spite of the declining years among which so many of us are +standing, and the tokens of decay that are coming upon us; +nay, in spite even of our very sins; who would go back to the +hours of his youthful experience, and have the shadow stand +still at that point upon the dial of his life? Who, for the +sake of its innocence and its freshness, would empty the +treasury of his broader knowledge, and surrender the strength +that he has gathered in effort and endurance? Who, for its +careless joy, would exchange the heart-warm friendships that +have been annealed in the vicissitudes of years, --the love +that sheds a richer light upon our path, as its vista +lengthens, or has drawn our thoughts into the glory that is +beyond the veil? Nay, even if his being, has been most +frivolous and aimless, or vile, --in the penitent throb with +which this is felt to be so, there is a. spring of active +power which exists not in the dreams of the youth; and the +sense of guilt and of misery is the stirring, of a life +infinitely deeper than that early flow of vitality and - +consciousness which sparkles as it runs. Build a tabernacle +for perpetual youth, and say, "It is good to be here"? It +cannot be so; and it is well that it cannot. Our post is not +the Mount of Vision, but the Field of Labor; and we can find +no rest in Eden until we have passed through, Gethsemane. + +Equally vain is the desire for some condition in life which +shall be free from care, and want, and the burden of toil. I +suppose most people do, at times, wish for such a lot, and +secretly or openly repine at the terms upon which they are +compelled to live. The deepest fancy in the heart of the most +busy men is repose - retirement-command of time and means, +untrammeled by any imperative claim. And yet who is there +that, thrown into such a position, would find it for his real +welfare, and would be truly happy? Perhaps the most restless +being in the world is the man who need do nothing, but keep +still. The old soldier fights all his battles over again, +and the retired merchant spreads the sails of his thought +upon new ventures, or comes uneasily down to snuff the air of +traffic, and feel the jar of wheels. I suppose there is +nobody whose condition is so deplorable, so ghastly, as his +whose lot many may be disposed to envy,--a man at the top of +this world's ease, crammed to repletion with what is called +"enjoyment;" ministered to by every luxury, --the entire +surface of his life so smooth with completeness that there is +not a jut to hang, a hope on, --so obsequiously gratified in +every specific want that he feels miserable from the very +lack of wanting. As in such a case there, can be no +religious life--which never permits us to rest in a feeling +of completeness; which seldom abides with fulness(sic) of +possession, and never stops with self, but always inspires to +some great work of love and sacrifice --as in such a case +there can be no religious life, he fully realizes the poet's +description of the splendor and the wretchedness of him who + + + " * * built his soul a costly pleasure-house + Wherein at ease for aye to dwell;" + +and who said + + " * * O soul, make merry and carouse + Dear soul, for all is well. + + * * * * * * * + + Singing and murmuring in her feastful mirth, + Joying to feel herself alive, + Lord over nature, lord of the visible earth, + Lord of the 'senses five + + "Communing with herself: , 'All these are mine, + And let the world have peace or wars, + 'T is one to me,' * * * * * + + * * * * * So three years + She throve, but on the fourth she fell, + Like Herod, when the shout was in his ears, + Struck through with pangs of hell." + + +The truth is, there is no one place, however we may envy it, +which would be indisputably good for us to occupy; much less +for us to remain in. The zest of life, like the pleasure +which we receive from a work of art, or from nature, comes +from undulations --from inequalities; not from any monotony, +even though it be the monotony of seeming perfection. The +beauty of the landscape depends upon contrasts, and would be +lost in one common surface of splendor. The grandeur of the +waves is in the deep hollows, as well as the culminating +crests; and the bars of the sunset glow on the background of +the twilight. The very condition of a great thing is that it +must be comparatively a rare thing. We speak of summer +glories, and yet who would wish it to be always summer? -- +who does not see how admirably the varied seasons are fitted +to our appetite for change? It may seem as if it would be +pleasant to have it always sunshine; and yet when fruit and +plant are dying from lack of moisture, and the earth sleeps +exhausted in the torrid air, who ever saw a summer morning +more beautiful than that when the clouds muster their legions +to the sound of the thunder, and pour upon us the blessing of +the rain? We repine at toil, and yet how gladly do we turn +in from the lapse of recreation to the harness of effort! We +sigh for the freedom and glory of the country; but, in due +time, just as fresh and beautiful seem to us the brick walls +and the busy streets where our lot is cast, and our interests +run. There is no condition in life of which we can say +exclusively "It is good for us to be here." Our course is +appointed through vicissitude,--our discipline is in +alternations; and we can build no abiding tabernacles along +the way. + +But, I observe, in the second place, that there are those who +may discard the notion of retaining any particular condition +of life and yet they would preserve unbroken some of its +relations. They may not keep the freshness of youth, or +prevent the intrusion of trouble, or shut out the claims of +responsibility, or the demands for effort; --they may not +achieve anything of this kind; and they do not wish to +achieve it; but they would build a tabernacle to LOVE, and +keep the objects of dear affection safe within its enclosure. +"Joy, sorrow, poverty, riches, youth, decay, let these come +as they must," say they, "in the flow of Providence; but let +the heart's sanctuaries remain unbroken, and let us in all +this chance find the presence and the ministration of those +we love." And, common as the sight is, we must always +contemplate with a fresh sadness this sundering of family +bonds; this cancelling(sic) of the dear realities of home; this +stealing in of the inevitable gloom; this vacating of the +chair, the table, and the bed; this vanishing of the familiar +face into darkness; this passage from communion to memory; +this diminishing of love's orb into narrower phases, --into a +crescent, --into a shadow. Surely, however broad the view we +take of the universe, a real woe, a veritable experience of +suffering, amidst this boundless benificence, reaching as +deep as the heart's core, is this old and common sorrow; -- +the sorrow of woman for her babes, and of man for his +helpmate, and of age for its prop, and of the son for the +mother that bore him, and of the heart for the hearts that +once beat in sympathy, and of the eyes that hide vacancies +with tears. When these old stakes are wrenched from their +sockets, and these intimate cords are snapped, one begins to +feel his own tent shake and flap in the wind that comes from +eternity, and to realize that there is no abiding tabernacle +here. + +But ought we really to wish that these relations might remain +unbroken, and to murmur because it is not so? We shall be +able to answer this question in the negative, I think, -- +however hard it may be to do so, -- when we consider, in the +first place, that this breaking up and separation are +inevitable. For we may be assured that whatever in the +system of things is inevitable is beneficent. The +dissolution of these bonds comes by the same law as that +which ordains them; and we may be sure that the one --though +it plays out of sight, and is swallowed up in mystery --is as +wise and tender in its purpose as the other. It is very +consoling to recognize the Hand that gave in the Hand that +takes a friend, and to know that he is borne away in the +bosom of Infinite Gentleness, as he was brought here. It is +the privilege of angels, and of a faith that brings us near +the angels, to always behold the face of our Father in +Heaven; and so we shall not desire the abrogation of this law +of dissolution and separation. We shall strengthen ourselves +to contemplate the fact that the countenances we love must +change, and the ties that are closest to our hearts will +break; and we shall feel that it ought to be, because it +must be, -- because it is an inevitability in that grand and +bounteous scheme in which stars rise and set, and life and +death play into each other. + +But, even within the circle of our own knowledge, there is +that which may reconcile us to these separations,. and +prevent the vain wish of building perpetual tabernacles for +our human love. For who is prepared, at any time, to say +that it was not better for the dear friend, and better for +ourselves, that he should go, rather than stay; --better for +the infant to die with flowers upon its breast, than to live +and have thorns in its heart; --better to kiss the innocent +lips that are still and cold, than to see the living lips +that are scorched with guilty passion; --better to take our +last look of a face while it is pleasant to remember--serene +with thought, and faith, and many charities --than to see it +toss in prolonged agony, and grow hideous with the wreck of +intellect? And, as spiritual beings, placed here not to be +gratified, but to be trained, surely we know that often it is +the drawing up of these earthly ties that draws up our souls; +that a great bereavement breaks the crust of our mere animal +consciousness, and inaugurates a spiritual faith; and we are +baptized into eternal life through the cloud and the shadow +of death. + +But, once more, I remark, that there are those who may say, +"We do not ask for any permanence in the conditions of life; +we do not ask that even its dearest relationships should be +retained; but give, 0! give us ever those highest brightest +moods of faith and of truth, which constitute the glory of +religion, and lift us above the conflict and the sin of the +world! No truly religious mind can fail to perceive the +gravitation of its thoughts and desires, and the contrast +between its usual level and its best moments of contemplation +and prayer. And it . may indeed seem well to desire the +prolongation of these experiences; to desire to live ever in +that unworldly radiance, close to the canopy of God, --in +company with the great and the holy, --in company with the +apostles and with Jesus, --on some Mount of Transfiguration, +in garments whiter than snow, and with faces bright as the +sun; and the hard, bad, trying world far distant and far +below. Does not the man of spiritual sensitiveness envy +those sainted ones who have grown apart, in pure clusters, +away above the sinful world, blossoming and breathing +fragrance on the very slopes of heaven? + +And yet, is this the complete ideal of life? and is this the +way in which we are to accomplish its true end? I think we +may safely say that even the brightest realizations of +religion should be comparatively rare, otherwise we forget +the work and lose the discipline of our mortal lot. The +great saints--the men whose names stand highest in the +calendar of the church universal--are not the ascetics, not +the contemplators, not the men who walked apart in cloisters; +but those who came down from the Mount of Communion and +Glory, to take a part in the world; who have carried its +burdens in their souls, and its scars upon their breasts; who +have wrought for its deepest. interests, and died for its +highest good; whose garments have swept its common ways, and +whose voices have thrilled in its low places of suffering and +of need; -men who have leaned lovingly against the world, +until the motion of their great hearts jars in its pulses +forever; men who have gone up from dust, and blood, and +crackling fire; men with faces of serene endurance and lofty +denial, yet of broad, genial, human sympathies; --these are +the men who wear starry crowns, and walk in white robes, +yonder. + +We need our visions for inspiration, but we must work in +comparative shadow; otherwise, the very highest revelations +would become monotonous, and we should long for still higher. +And yet, are there not some whose desire is for constant +revelation? Who would see supernatural sights, and hear +supernatural sounds, and know all the realities towards which +they are drifting, as well as those in which they must work? +They would make this world a mount of perpetual vision; +overlooking the fact that it has its own purposes, to be +wrought out by its own light, and within its own limits. For +my part, I must confess that I do not share in this desire to +know all about the next world, and to see beforehand +everything that is going to be. I have no solicitude about +the mere scenery and modes of the future state. But this +desire to be in the midst of perpetual revelations argues +that there is not enough to fill our minds and excite our +wonder here; when all things around us are pregnant with +suggestion, and invite us, and offer unfathomed depths for +our curious seeking. There is so much here, too, for our +love and our discipline; so much for us to do, that we hardly +need more revelations just now; -they might overwhelm and +disturb us in the pursuit of these appointed ends. Moreover, +the gratification of this desire would foreclose that +glorious anticipation, that trembling expectancy, which is so +fraught with inspiration and delight, --the joy of the +unknown, the bliss of the thought that there is a great deal +yet to be revealed. + +We do need some revelation; just such as has been given; --a +glimpse of the immortal splendors; an articulate Voice from +heaven --a view of the glorified Jesus; a revelation in a +point of time, just as that on the mount was in point of +space. We need some; but not too much, --not all revelation; +not revelation as a customary fact. If so, I repeat, we +should neglect this ordained field of thought and action. We +should live in a sphere of supernaturalism, --in an +atmosphere of wonder, --amid a planetary roll of miracles; +still unsatisfied; still needing the suggestion of higher +points to break the stupendous monotony. + +And I insist that work, not vision, is to be the ordinary +method of our being here, against the position of those who +shut themselves in to a contemplative and extatic piety. +They would escape from the age, and its anxieties; they would +recall past conditions; they would get into the shadow of +cloisters, and build cathedrals for an exclusive sanctity. +And, indeed, we would do well to consider those tendencies of +our time which lead us away from the inner life of faith and +prayer. But this we should cherish, not by withdrawing all +sanctity from life, but by pouring sanctity into life. We +should not quit the world, to build tabernacles in the Mount +of Transfiguration, but come from out the celestial +brightness, to shed light into the world, --to make the whole +earth a cathedral; to overarch it with Christian ideals, to +transfigure its gross and guilty features, and fill it with +redeeming truth and love. + +Surely, the lesson of the incident connected with the text is +clear, so far as the apostles were concerned, who beheld that +dazzling, brightness, and that heavenly companionship, apart +on the mount. They were not permitted to remain apart; but +were dismissed to their appointed work. Peter went to denial +and repentance, --to toil and martyrdom; James to utter his +practical truth; John to send the fervor of his spirit among +the splendors of the Apocalypse, and, in its calmer flow +through his Gospel, to give us the clearest mirror of the +Saviour's face. + +Nay, even for the Redeemer that was not to be an abiding +vision; and he illustrates the purport of life as he descends +from his transfiguration to toil, and goes forward to +exchange that robe of heavenly, brightness for the crown of +thorns. + +What if Jesus had remained there, upon that Mount of Vision, +and himself stood before us as only a transfigured form of +glory? Where then would be the peculiarity of his work, and +its effect upon the world? + +On the wall of the Vatican, untarnished by the passage of +three hundred years, hangs the masterpiece of Raphael, --his +picture of the Transfiguration. In the centre, with the +glistening raiment and the altered countenance, stands Jesus, +the Redeemer. On the right hand and on the left are his +glorified visitants; while, underneath the bright cloud, lie +the forms of Peter, and James, and John, gazing at the +transfigured Jesus, shading their faces as they look. +Something of the rapture and the awe that attracted the +apostles to that shining spot seems to have seized the soul +of the great artist, and filled him with his greatest +inspiration. But he saw what the apostles, at that moment, +did not see, and, in another portion of his picture, has +represented the scene at the foot of the hill, - the group +that awaited the descent of Jesus. . The poor possessed boy, +writhing, and foaming, and gnashing his teeth, -- his eyes, +as some say, in their wild rolling agony, already catching a +glimpse of the glorified Christ above; the baffled disciples, +the caviling scribes, the impotent physicians, the grief-worn +father, seeking in vain for help. Suppose Jesus had stayed +upon the mount, what would have become of that group of want, +and helplessness, and agony? Suppose Christ had remained in +the brightness of that vision forever, -- himself only a +vision of glory, and not an example of toil, and sorrow, and +suffering, and death, --alas! For the great world at large, +waiting at the foot of the hill -the groups of humanity in +all ages; -- the sin-possessed sufferers -- the caviling +skeptics; the philosophers, with their books and instruments; +the bereaved and frantic mourners in their need! + +So, my hearers, wrapped in the higher moods of the soul, and +wishing to abide among upper glories, we may not see the work +that waits for us along our daily path; without doing which +all our visions are vain. We must have the visions., We need +them in our estimate of the world around us, --of the aspects +and destinies of humanity. There are times when justice is +balked, and truth covered up, and freedom trampled down; -- +when we may well be tempted to ask, "What is the use of +trying to work?" --when we may well inquire whether what-we +are doing is work at all. And in such a case, or in any +other, one is lifted up, and inspired, and enabled to do and +to endure all things, when in steady vision he beholds the +everliving God, --when all around the injustice, and +conflict, and suffering of the world, he detects the Divine +Presence, like a bright cloud overshadowing. O! then doubt +melts away, and wrong dwindles, and the jubilee of victorious +falsehood is but a peal of drunken laughter, and the +spittings of guilt and contempt no more than flakes of foam +flung against a hero's breast-plate. Then one sees, as it +were, with the vision of God, who looked down upon the old +cycles, when a sweltering waste covered the face of the +globe, and huge, reptile natures held it in dominion; -- who +beholds the pulpy worm, down in the sea, building the pillars +of continents; --so one sees the principalities of evil +sliding from their thrones, and the deposits of humble +faithfulness rising from the deep of ages. Our sympathy, our +benevolent effort in the work of God and humanity, how much +do they need not only the vision of intellectual foresight, +but of the faith which, on bended knees, sees further than +the telescope! + +And alas! for him who, in his personal need and effort, has +no margin of holier inspiration --no rim of divine splendor - +-around his daily life! Without the vision of life's great +realities we cannot see what our work is, or know how to do +it. + +But such visions must be necessarily rare and transient, or +we shall miss their genuine efficacy. We must work in +comparative shadow, without the immediate sight of these +realities; and only in the place of our rest, -- rest for +higher efforts and a new career, --only there may we have +their constant companionship, and build their perpetual +tabernacles. + + + + +THE SHADOW OF DISAPPOINTMENT. + +But we trusted that it had been he which should have +redeemed Israel. LUKE xxiv. 21. + + +In the accounts of the disciples, contained in the New +Testament, there is no attempt to glorify them, or to +conceal any weakness. From the first to the last, they +think and act precisely as men would think and act in their +circumstances; -they are affected just as others of like +culture would be affected by such events as those set forth +in the record. And the genuineness of their conduct argues +the genuineness of the incidents which excited it. The +divine, wonderworking, risen Jesus, is the necessary +counterpart of the amazed, believing, erring hoping, +desponding, rejoicing fishermen and publicans. This stamp +of reality is very evident in the instance before us. The +conduct and the feelings of the disciples are those of men +who have been involved in a succession of strange +experiences. For a little while they have been in communion +with One who has spoken as never man spoke, and who has +touched the deepest springs of their being. He has lifted +them out of the narrow limits of their previous lives. From +the Receipt of Customs, and the Galilean lake, he has +summoned them to the interests and awards, the thought and +the work, of a spiritual and divine kingdom. At first +following him, perhaps they hardly knew why,. conscious only +that he had the Words of Eternal Life, the terms of this +discipleship have grown into bonds of the dearest intimacy. +Their Master has become their Companion and their Friend, +and their faith has deepened into tender and confiding love. +But still, theirs has been the belief of the trusting soul, +rather than the enlightened intellect. From the fitness of +the teaching, and the wonder of the miracle, they have felt +that he was the very Christ; and yet, from this conviction +of the heart they have not been able to separate their +Jewish conceits. Sometimes, it may be, the language of the +Saviour has carried them up into a broader and more +spiritual region; but then, they have subsided into their +symbols and shadows; --only, notwithstanding the errors that +have hindered, and the hints that have awed them, they have +steadily felt the inspiration of a great hope, the +expectation of something glorious to be revealed in the +speedy coming of the Messiah's kingdom. And now, does not +the account immediately connected with the text picture for +us exactly the state of men whose conceptions have been +broken up by a great shock, and yet in whose hearts the +central hope still remains and vibrates with mysterious +tenacity? --men who have had the form of their expectation +utterly refuted and scattered into darkness, but who still +cherish its spirit? Christ the crowned King,-- Christ the +armed Deliverer, --Christ the Avenger, sweeping away his +foes with one burst of miracle,--is to them, no more. They +saw the multitude seize him, and no legions came to rescue;- +-they saw him condemned, abused, crucified, buried; and so, +in no sense of which they could conceive, was this he who +should have redeemed Israel. And yet the suggestion of +something still to come, --something connected with three +days, -- lingered in their minds. And, in the midst of +their despondency, striking upon this very chord, the +startling rumor reached them that Christ had risen from the +dead. It was in this mood that Jesus found the two +disciples whose words I have selected for my text; -- faith +and doubt, disappointment and hope, alternating in their +minds; their Jewish conceit laid prostrate in the dust, and +yet the expectation of something, they knew not what, now +strangely confirmed. See how these feelings mingle in the +passage before us. "What manner of communications," said +the undiscerned Saviour, "are these that ye have one to +another, as ye walk, and are sad?"-"Art thou only a stranger +in Jerusalem," says one of them, "and hast not known the +things which are come to pass there in these days?" What +things? "Concerning Jesus of Nazareth," replied they, +"which was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and +all the people: and how the chief priests and our rulers +delivered him to be condemned to death, and have crucified +him. But we trusted that it had been he which should have +redeemed Israel: and beside all this, to-day is the third +day since these things were done. Yea, and certain women +also of our company made us astonished, which were early at +the sepulchre; and when they found not his body, they came, +saying, that they had also seen a vision of angels, which +said that he was alive. And certain of them which were with +us went to the sepulchre, and found it even so as the women +had said: but him they saw not." + +My hearers, I think we see, in this instance the minds of +these disciples working as the minds of men might be +expected to work under like conditions. And to me this +casts a complexion of genuineness upon the transactions +which, as stated in the record, account for these mental +alternations. The entire passage is alive with reality. +The genuine emotions of humanity play and thrill together, +there, in the shadow of the cross and the glory of the +resurrection. + +But, if these feelings are thus natural, the experience +itself indicated in that portion of this verse which +constitutes the text is not entirely removed from our +ordinary life. The incident which occasioned these sad words +was an extraordinary one; but its moral significance, as it +now comes before us, illustrates many a passage in man's +daily course. The language, as we read it, appears to be the +language of disappointment; ---it was under the shadow of +disappointment, though alternating with hope, that these +disciples spoke; and it is to the lessons afforded by +disappointment in the course of life that I now especially +invite your attention. + +And the precise point in the text, bearing upon this subject, +is the fact, that while the disciples seemed to feel as +though all redemption for Israel was now hopeless, that +process of redemption for Israel, and for the world, was +going on through the agency of those very events which had +filled them with dismay. Even as they were speaking, in +tones of sadness, about the crucified Christ, the living +Christ, made perfect for his work by that crucifixion, was +walking by their side. Looking far this side of that shadow +of disappointment which then brooded over them, we see all +this, that then they did not see; but now is it with +ourselves, under the frequent shadows cast by more ordinary +events? This suggestion may afford us some profitable +thoughts. + +I need hardly say, in the first place, that man is +continually inspired by expectation. Every effort he makes +is made in the conviction of possibility and the light of +hope. This is the heart of ambition and the spring of toil. +It is the balm which he applies to the wounds of misfortune. +It is the key with which he tries the wards of nature. And +from the morning of life to its last twilight he is always +looking. forward. The saddest spectacle of all--sadder even +than pain, and bereavement, and death --is a man void of +hope. The most abject people is a hopeless people, in whose +hearts the memories of the past, and the pulses of endeavor, +and the courage of faith are dead, and who crouch by their +own thresholds and the crumbling tombstones of their fathers, +and take the tyrant's will, without an incentive, and without +even a dream. The most intense form in which misery can +express itself is in the phrase, "I have nothing to live +for." And he who can actually say, and who really feels +this, is dead, and covered with the very pall and darkness of +calamity. But few, indeed, are they who can, with truth, say +this. + +But if hope or expectation is such a vital element of human +experience, so does disappointment have its part in the +mechanism of things, and, as we shall presently see, its +wise and beneficial part. For, after all, how few things +correspond with the forecast of expectation! To be sure, +some results transcend our hope; but how many fall below it, +--balk it, -- turn out exactly opposite to it.! Among those +who meet with disappointments in life, there are those who +are expecting impossibilities, -- whose expectations are +inordinate, -- are more than the nature of things will +admit; or who are looking for a harvest where they have +planted no seed. They carry the dreams of youth in among +the realities of the world, and its vanishing visions leave +them naked and discouraged. The light of romance, that +glorified all things in the future, recedes as they advance, +and they come upon rugged paths of fact --upon plain toil +and daily care, --upon the market and the field, and upon +men as they are in their weakness, and their selfishness, +and their mutual distrust. Or they belong, it may be, to +that class who are too highly charged with hope; whose +sanguine notions never go by induction, but by leaps; who +never calculate the difficulties, but only see the thing +complete and rounded in imagination; --men with plenty of +poetry, and no arithmetic; whose theories work miracles, but +whose attempts are failures. It is pleasant, sometimes, to +meet with people like these, who, clothed in the scantiest +garments, and with only a crust upon their tables, at the +least touch of suggestion, mount into a region of splendor. +Their poverty all fades away; -- the bare walls, the tokens +of stern want, the dusty world, are all transfigured with +infinite possibilities. Achievement is only a word, and +fortune comes in at a stride. The palace of beauty rises, +fruits bloom in waste places, gold drops from the rocks, and +the entire movement of life becomes a march of jubilee. And +they are so certain this time, --the plan they now have is +so sure to succeed! I repeat, it is pleasant, sometimes, to +have intercourse with such men, who throw bloom and +marvelousness upon the actualities of the world, from the +reservoirs of their sanguine invention. At least, it is +pleasant to think how this faculty of unfailing enthusiasm +enables them to bear defeat, and to look away from the cold +face of necessity; -- to think that, while so many are +trudging after the sounding wheels and the monotonous jar of +life, and lying down by the way to die, these men are +marching buoyantly to a tune inside. And yet this is +pleasant only from a hasty point of view. These people meet +with disappointment, of course; and it is sad to think how +many lives have come to absolutely nothing, and are all +strewn over, from boyhood to the grave, with the fragments +of splendid schemes. It is sad to think how all their +visionary Balbecs and Palmyras have been reared in a real +desert, -- the desert of an existence producing no +substantial thing. And among these vanishing dreams, and on +that melancholy waste, they learn, at last, the meaning of +their disappointment. And. from their experience, we too +may learn, that we are placed here to be not merely ideal +artists, but actual toilers; not cadets of hope, but +soldiers of endeavor. + +But there are disappointments in life that succeed reasonable +expectation; and these are the hardest of all to bear. I say +the expectation is reasonable; and yet, very possibly, the +bitterness of the disappointment comes from neglecting to +consider the infirmity of all earthly things. It is hard +when, not dreaming, but trying our best, we fail. It is hard +to bear the burden and heat of the day, through all life's +prime, and yet, with all our toil, to earn no repose for its +evening hours. It is hard to accumulate a little gain, +baptizing every dollar with our honest sweat, and then have +it stricken from our grasp by the band of calamity or of +fraud. It is hard, when we have placed our confidence in +man's honor, or his friendship, to find that we are fools, +and that we have been led in among rocks and serpents. And +hard indeed is it to see those who were worthy our love and +our faith drop by our side, and leave us alone. This dear +child, the blossom of so many hopes, -- hard is it to see him +die -- to fold all our expectation in his little shroud, and +lay it away forever. We thought it had been he who should +have comforted and blessed us, --in whose life we could have +retraced the cycle of our own happiest experience, --whose +unfolding faculties would have been a renewal of our +knowledge, and his manhood not merely the prop but the +refreshing of our age. This companion of our lot, -- this +wedded wife of our heart, - why taken away now? She has +shared our early struggles, and tempered our anxiety with +cheerful assurance. She has tasted the bitterness; we +thought she would have been a partner of the joy. She has +borne our fretfulness, and helped our perplexity, and shed a +serene light into our gloom; We thought she would have been +with us when we could pay the debt of faithfulness; when the +cares of business did not press and disturb us so. We +thought it was she whose voice, sweet with the music of old, +deep memories, would have consoled us far along; and that, in +some calm evening of life, when all the tumult of the world +was still, and we were ready to go, we should go -- not far +apart -- gently to our graves. + +Such are the plans that we lay out, saying of this thing and +of that thing, "We trusted that it would have been so." But +the answer has been disappointment. The old, ay, perhaps the +most common lesson of life, is disappointment. + +And now I ask, is it not an intended lesson? Evidently it +comes in as an element in the Providential plan in which we +are involved. For we see its disciplinary nature, --its wise +and beneficial results in harmony with that Plan. Consider +whether it is not the fact, that the entire discipline of +life grows out of a succession of disappointments. That +youthful dream, in which life has stretched out like a sunny +landscape with purple mountain-chains --is it not well that +it is broken up, and we strike upon rugged realities? Does +not all the strength of manhood, and the power of +achievement, and the glory of existence, depend upon these +things which are not included in the young boy's vision of a +happy world. Welcome, O! disappointment of our hope that +life would prove a perpetual holiday. Welcome experience of +the fact that blessing comes not from pleasure, but from +labor! For in that experience alone was there ever anything +truly great or good accomplished. We can conceive no +possible way by which one can be made personally strong +without his own effort; --no possible way by which the mind +can be enriched and strengthened where it is lifted up, +instead of climbing for itself; --no way, therefore, in which +life could be at all a worthy achievement, if it were merely +a plain of ease, instead of holding every ward of knowledge +and of power under the guard of difficulty and the +requisition of endeavor. + +And it is equally true that the greatest successes grow out +of great failures. In numerous instances the result is +better that comes after a series of abortive experiences than +it would have been if it had come at once. For all these +successive failures induce a skill, which is so much +additional power working into the final achievement. Nobody +passes at once to the mastery, in any branch of science or of +industry; and when he does become a master in his work it is +evident, not only in the positive excellence of his +performance, but in the sureness with which he avoids +defects; and these defects he has learned by experimental +failures. The hand that evokes such perfect music from the +instrument has often failed in its touch, and bungled among +the keys. And if a man derives skill from his own failures, +so does he from the failures of other men. Every +unsuccessful attempt is, for him, so much work done; for he +will not go over that ground again, but seek some new way. +Every disappointed effort fences in and indicates the only +possible path of success, and makes it easier to find. We +should thank past ages and other men, not only for what they +have left us of great things done, but for the heritage of +their failures. Every baffled effort for freedom contributes +skill for the next attempt, and ensures the day of victory. +Nations stripped and bound, and waiting for liberty under the +shadow of thrones, cherish in memory not only the +achievements of their heroes, but the defeats of their +martyrs; and when the trumpet-voice shall summon them once +more, as surely it will, --when they shall draw for the +venture of freedom, and unroll its glittering standard to the +winds, -- they will avoid the stumbling blocks which have +sacrificed the brave, and the errors which have postponed +former hopes. In public and in private action, it is true +that disappointment is the school of achievement, and the +balked efforts are the very agents that help us to our +purpose. + +And, if life itself --life as a whole --seems to us but a +series of disappointments, is not this the very conviction we +need to work out from it, through our own experience? Do we +not need to learn that this life itself is not sufficient, +and holds no blessing that will fill us completely, and with +which we may forever rest? The baffled hopes of our mortal +state; --what are they but vain strivings of the human soul, +out of the path of its highest good? The wandering bird, +driven against the branches, and beaten by the storm, +flutters at last to the clear opening, by which it mounts +above the cloud, and finds its way to its home. This life is +not ordained in vain; --it is constituted for a grand +purpose, if through its lessons of experience we become +convinced that this life is not all. In the outset of our +existence here, and merely from the teaching of others, we +cannot comprehend the great realities of existence. + +How the things that have grown familiar to our eyes, and the +lessons that have sounded trite upon our ears, become fresh +and wonderful, as life turns into experience! How this very +lesson of disappointment lets us in to the deep meanings of +Scripture, for instance! The Christ of our youth, -- a +personage standing mild and beautiful upon the Gospel-page, - +- a being to admire and love; how be develops to our later +thought! how solemnly tender, how greatly real, he becomes to +us, when we cling to him in the agony of our sorrow, and he +goes down to walk with us on the waters of the sea of death! +As traditional sentiment, --as a wholesome subject for +school-composition, --we have spoken and written of the +weariness of the world-worn heart, and the frailty of earthly +things. But, O! when our hearts have actually become worn, +and tried; when we begin to learn that the things of this +life are evanescent, --are dropping away from us, and we +slipping from them, -- what inspiration of reality comes to +us in the oft-heard invitation, " Come unto me, all ye that +labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest"! What a +depth of meaning flowing from the eternal world, in the +precept we have read so carelessly, -- "Lay not up for +yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth +corrupt, and thieves break through and steal"! Thus the best +results of life come from the defeats and the limitations +that are involved with it. + +And, in all this, observe how disappointment is the +instrument of higher blessings. See how thus life itself +suggests a higher good than life itself can yield. And so +the attitude of the disciples, after the crucifixion, +illustrates many experiences of our earthly lot. Those +incidents which perplexed and grieved them were securing the +very results they seemed to prevent. So, in our ordinary +life, the things that appear most adverse to. us are often +the most favorable. + + I may say, indeed, that to any man who is rightly exercised +by it, disappointment always brings a better result. But +this statement requires that I should say, likewise, that the +result of disappointment depends upon the level and quality +of a man's spirit. "One thing happens alike to the wise man +and the fool." But how different in texture and substance is +the final result of the event! Disappointment breaks down a +feeble and shallow man. There are those, again, whom it does +not make better, -- in fact, whom nothing, as we can see, +makes better. Everything glides easily off from them. Now, +it is a noble thing to see a man rise above misfortune, - a +moral Prometheus, submissive to the actual will of God, but +defying fate. But there are men whose very elasticity +indicates the superficiality of their nature. For it is good +sometimes to be sad, -- good to have depth of being +sufficient for misfortune to sink into, and, accomplish its +proper work. But the man who rightly receives the lesson of +disappointment, and improves by its discipline, bent as he is +on some great or good work, is impelled by it only to a +change of method, -- never to a change of purpose; and the +disappointment effectually serves the purpose. But the fact +before us is most clearly seen when we contemplate the +results of disappointment upon a religious and un-religious +spirit. A man is not made better by disappointment to whom +this world is virtually everything;--to whom spiritual things +are not realities. To him life is a narrow stream between +jutting crags, and its substance flows away with the objects +before his eyes. Nay, some men of this sort are made worse +by the failure of earthly hopes, and their natures are +compressed and hammered by misfortune into a sullen and +granitic defiance. But he who sees beyond these material +limits, looking to the great end and final relations of our +being, always extracts from mortal disappointment a better +result. In the wreck of external things he gathers that +spiritual good which is the substance of all life; -- that +faith, and patience, and holy love, which, when all that is +mortal and incidental in our humanity passes away, constitute +the residuum of personality. + +Our hopes disappointed, --our plans thwarted and overthrown; +but out of that disappointment a richer good evolving than we +had conceived; something that tends more than all our effort +to produce the real object of life. My friends, what do we +make out of this fact? Why, surely this, that life is not +our plan, but God's. Consider what we, often, would have +made out of life, and compare this with what Providence has +made out of it. Contrast the man's achievement with the +boy's scheme; the dream of care with the moral glory that has +sprung from toil and trouble. Contrast the idea of the +Saviour in the minds of those disciples with the actual +Saviour rising victorious from the conditions of shame and +death. + +Life is God's plan; not ours. We may find this out only by +effort; but we do find it out. + +We are responsible for the use of our materials, but the +materials themselves, and the great movement of things, are +furnished for us. Let us fall into no ascetic view of life. +Out of our joy and our acknowledged good the Supreme Disposer +works his spiritual ends. But, especially, how often does he +do this out of our trials, and sorrows, and so-called evils! +Once more I say life is God's plan; not ours. For often on +the ruins of visionary hope rises the kingdom of our +substantial possession and our true peace; and under the +shadow of earthly disappointment, all unconsciously to +ourselves, our Divine Redeemer is walking by our side. + + + + +Life a Tale + + +We spend our years as a tale that is told. Psalm xc.9. + + +We bring our years to an end like a thought, is the proper +rendering of these words, according, to an eminent +translator. But as the essential idea of the Psalmist is +preserved in the common version, I employ it as peculiarly +illustrative and forcible. It will be my object, in the +present discourse, to show the fitness of the comparison in +the text; --to suggest the points of resemblance between +human life and a passing narrative. + +I observe, then, in the first place, that the propriety of +this simile is seen in the brevity of life. What more rapid +and momentary than a story? It is heard, and passes. Though +it beguiles us for the time, it dies away in sound, or melts +from before, the eye. And this I say, strikingly illustrates +the brevity of life. The brevity of life! It is a trite +truth, and yet how little realized! Probably there is +nothing, more common, and yet there is nothing, more +pernicious, than the habit of virtual dependence upon length +of days. Thus the best ends of our mortal being are lost +sight of; the solemn circumstances, the suggestive mysteries +of life, are misconstrued. The heavens, which give a myriad +hints of worlds beyond the grave, are, to many, impenetrable +walls, shutting them in to mere pursuits of sense, -- the +upholstery of a workshop or bazaar; and this earth, which is +but a step, --a filmy platform of our immortal course, --is +to them the solid abiding place of all interest, and of all +hope. + +It is well, then, to break in upon this worldly reliance, -- +to consider how fleeting and uncertain are the things in +which we garner up so much. Therefore, in order that we may +more vividly realize the brevity of life,--how like it is to +a passing tale,--let us consider the rapidity of its changes, +even in a few short years. We are, to some degree, made +aware how fast the current of time bears us on, when we pause +and remark the shores; when we observe how our position to- +day has shifted from what it was yesterday; how the sunny +slopes of youth have been changed for the teeming uplands of +maturity; yea, perhaps, how already the stream is narrowing, +and rushing more swiftly as it narrows, towards those high +hills that bound our present vision, upon whose summits +lingers the departing light, and around whose base thickens +the solemn shadow. + +This rapidity of change is most strikingly illustrated when, +after a few years' absence, we return to the scenes of our +youth. We plunged into the current of the world, buoyant and +vigorous; our thoughts have been occupied every hour, and we +have not noticed the stealthy shadow of time. But we come +back to that early spot, and look around. Lo! The companions +of our youth have grown into dignified men,--the active and +influential citizens of the place. Care has set + + +"Busy wrinkles round their eyes." + + +They meet us with formal deportment, or with an ill-concealed +restlessness, as though we hindered them in their work,-- +work! Which, when we parted with them, would have been flung +to the winds for any idle sport. How quickly they have +changed into this gravity and anxiety! On the other hand, +those who stood where they stand now,--whose names occupied +the signs and the records which theirs now fill,--have passed +away, or, here and there, come tottering along, bent and +gray-headed men. Those, too, who were mere infants-those +whom we never saw-take up our old stations, and inspire them +with the gladness of childhood. And exactly thus have we +changed to others. We are a mirror to them and they to us. + +From this familiar experience, then, let us realize that the +stream of life does not stop, nor are we left stationary, but +carried with it; though our condition may appear unchanged, +until we lift up our eyes, and look for the old landmarks. +The brevity of our life! my friends. Amid our daily +business,--in the sounding tumult of the great mart, and the +absorption of our thoughts,--do we think of it? Do we +perceive how nearly we approach a goal which a little while +ago seemed far before us? Do we observe how quickly we shoot +by it? Do we mark with what increasing swiftness the line of +our life seems reeling off, and how close we are coming to +the end? Time never stops! Each tick of the clock echoes +our advancing footsteps. The shadow of the dial falls upon +it a shorter and shorter tract, which we have yet to pass +over. Even if a long life lies before us, let us consider +that thirty-five years is high noon with us,--the meridian of +that arc which comprehends but threescore years and ten! + +But we may be more vividly impressed with the fact of the +brevity of life, if we adopt some criterion wider than these +familiar measurements. The narrative, the story, engages our +ears, in the pauses of care and labor. We listen to it in +the noonday rest, and around the evening fire. It is a +slight break in the monotony of our business,--an interlude +in the solemn march of life. And thus, in some respects, is +life itself. It is so, if we take into view a long series of +existence, such as the succession of human generations, or, +still more, the periods of creative development, and the +computations of time as applied to the forms and changes of +the material universe. In this vast train of being, our +individual existence, however important to ourselves, is but +an interlude-a tale. Let us, then, for a while, lay aside +any conventional method of estimating our life,--a method in +which that life fills a large space, simply because it is +brought near to the eye, --and let us endeavor to take a view +of it, as it were, from the fixed stars, or from the +elevation of the immortal state. + +Compare, then, if you will, this life of yours or mine, not +with the personal standard of threescore years and ten, but +with the whole course of human history; and instantly we +appear but as bubbles in the stream of ages. But, again, +consider how history itself is as "a tale that is told;" and +then, indeed, what a mere incident in it all is your life and +mine! If we stand off at the distance of a few centuries, so +that we have no present interest in them, it is strange how +the proudest empires assume an empty and spectral aspect. +Their growth and decline occupied ages; but what a brief +achievement it appears now! Why puzzle ourselves about their +origin, or seek to disengage the true from the fabulous in +their history? Why strain laboriously to settle names, and +dates, and dynasties? What mere point they have occupied in +the processes of the great universe! Their hieroglyphic +pillars, their gray old pyramids;--what are they to the age +of Uranus, or the new planet? Each of these empires +fulfilled its mission, and relatively that mission was a +great one; but in the long sweep of God's providence, and +among the phenomena of absolute being, what a brief link, a +subordinate climax, it was! The huge ribs of the earth, and +the coral islands of the sea were longer in building; and +even these are transitory manifestations of God's purposes, +which stream around us through constant change and +succession. And what, then, are these nations-these epochs +of humanity-but waves rising and breaking on the great sea of +eternity? Mysterious Egypt, haughty Assyria, glorious +Greece, kingly Rome;--how spectral they have become. They +stand out in no relief. As we recede from them, they sink +back, flat and inanimate on the horizon. Each is a tale that +has been told. Surely, then, if such is the life of nations, +I need not labor to impress upon you a sense of the brevity +of our individual existence. + +But, for a moment, turn your thoughts to estimates that far +exceed the periods of history, and confound all our ordinary +measurements. What is our mortal existence, into which we +crowd so much interest,--over the anticipated length of which +we slumber,--into whose uncertain future we project our lithe +plans so confidently,--compared to the age of the heavens,-- +the lifetime of worlds?--compared to their march, from the +moment when they obeyed the creative fiat to that when they +shall complete their great cycle? It takes three years for +light to travel from the nearest fixed star to the earth; +from another it takes twelve years; while, on its journey +from a star of the twelfth magnitude, twenty four billions of +miles away, it consumes four thousand years. And yet we +speak of long life! Why, when the light that wraps us now +shall be changed for the light that is just leaping from that +distant star, where in the gray bosom of the past shall we +be? Sunken, forgotten, crumbled to imperceptible atoms; the +ashes of generations-the dust of empires-heaped over us! And +when we compare those wide estimates to that divine eternity +that evolves and limits all things, how does our individual +existence on the earth dwindle and vanish!--a heart-throb in +the pulses of the universal life,--a quivering leaf in the +forest of being,--"a tale that is told"! + +And yet, my friends, our realization of existence is so +intense,--the horizon of the present shuts us in so +completely,--that it really requires an effort for us to +pause and remember that we are such transitory beings. It +cannot be (we may unconsciously reason), that we to whom this +earth is bound with ligaments so intimate and strong; whose +breathing and motion-whose contact and action here-are such +realities; whose ears hear these varying sounds of life; +whose eyes drink in this perpetual and changing beauty; to +whom business, study, friendship, pleasure, domestic +relations, are such fresh and constant facts; to whom the +dawn and the twilight, the nightly slumber and the daily +meal, are such regular experiences; to whom our possessions, +our houses, lands, goods, money, are such substantial +things;--it cannot be that we are not fixed permanently +here,--that the years like a swift river, sweep us nearer and +nearer to a point where we must sink and leave it all,--that +the corridors of the earth echo our footsteps only as the +footsteps of a successive march-myriads going before, and +myriads coming after us-and soon they will catch no more +murmurs of our individual life; for that will be as "a tale +that is told." + +The whole train of thought I am now pursuing strikes us with +peculiar force, in reading the biographies of men who have +lived intensely, who have realized the fulness of life, who +have mingled intimately with its varied experiences, and +occupied a large place in it. We see how to them life was, +as it is to us, an absorbing fact,--how they have planned, +and thought, and acted, as though they were to live forever; +and yet we have noticed the premonitions of change, the +dropping away of friends, the failing of vigor, the deepening +of melancholy shadows, and the coming of the end; the +business closed, the active curiosity and intermeddling +ceased, the familiar haunts abandoned, the home made +desolate, the lights put out, the cup fallen beneath the +festal board, and all the earnest existence stopped forever. +And this, too, so quick,--filling so small a space in +absolute time! From their illustration let us, then, realize +that our life, too, amid all these real conditions, is +unfolding rapidly to an end, and is "as a tale that is told." + +But life is like a tale that is told, because of its +comprehensiveness. It is a common characteristic of a +narrative that it contains a great deal in a small compass. +It includes many years, and expresses many results. +Sometimes it sweeps over different lands, and exhibits the +peculiarities of various personages. In one word, it is +characterized by comprehensiveness. And this, I repeat, is +also a characteristic of human life. When the consideration +of the brevity of our mortal existence excites us to +diligence it is well; but when we make it an argument for +indolence, disgust, and despair, we should be reminded of the +fact I am now endeavoring to illustrate,--the fact that even +the briefest life contains a great deal, and means a great +deal; and that, if we estimate things by a spiritual +standard, a man's earthly being may contain more than all the +cycles of the material world. From the best point of view, +life is not merely a term of years and a span of action; it +is a force, a current and depth of being. Indeed, considered +in its most literal sense, as the vital spark of our animal +organism, it is something more than a measurement of time;-- +it is a mysterious, informing essence. No man has yet been +able to tell us what it is, where it resides, or how it acts. +We only know that when we gaze upon the features of the dead +we see there the same organs that pertained to the living; +but something has gone,--something of light, power, motion; +and that something we call life. + +But it is chiefly in a moral sense that I make the remark +that life is something more than a term of years or a span of +action. In fact, life is a sum of spiritual experiences; and +thus one act, or result, often contains more than a century +of time. Who does not understand the fact to which I now +refer? Who has not felt something of it? Has not each one +of us, at times, realized that he lived a year in a single +day,--in a moment,--in an emotion or thought? Nay, could +that experience be measured by any estimate of time? And if +we should compute the length of any life by such experiences, +and not by a succession of years, would it not be a long +life? At least, would it not be a full and immeasurable +life? + +But, while every man's history will furnish instances of what +I mean, let us, for the sake of clearer illustration, +consider some of the experiences which are common to all. +Defining life to be depth and intensity of being, then,--a +current of spiritual power, and not a mere succession of +incidents,--how much we live when we acquire the knowledge of +a single truth! What an inexhaustible power!--what an +immeasurable experience it is! We are made absolutely +stronger by it; we receive more life with it,--a new and +imperishable fibre of being. Fortune cannot pluck it from +us, age cannot weaken it, death cannot set limits to it. And +now, with the fulness of this one experience as a test, just +consider our whole mortal experience as filled up with such +revelations of truth. Suppose we improve all our +opportunities; into what boundless life does education admit +us, and the discoveries of every day, and the ordinary +lessons of the world! Tell me, is this life to be called +merely a brief and worthless fact, when by a little reading, +for instance, I can make the experience of other men, and +lands, and ages, all mine? When in some favored hour, I can +climb the starry galaxy with Newton, and pace along the +celestial coast to the great harmony of numbers and unlock +the mighty secret of the universe? When of a winter's night, +I can pass through all the belts of climate, and all the +grades of civilization on our globe; scan its motley races, +learn its diverse customs, and hear the groaning of lonely +ice-fields and the sigh of Indian palms? When, with Bacon, I +can explore the laboratory of nature, or with Locke, consult +the mysteries of the soul? When Spenser can lead me into +golden visions, or Shakespeare smite me with magic +inspiration, or Milton bathe me in immortal song? When +History opens for me all the gates of the past,--Thebes and +Palmyra, Corinth and Carthage, Athens with its peerless +glory, and Rome with its majestic pomp?--when kings and +statesmen, authors and priests, with their public deeds and +secret thoughts are mine? When the plans of cabinets, and +the debates of parliaments, and the course of revolutions, +and the results of battle, are all before my eyes and in my +mind? When I can enter the inner chamber of sainted souls, +and conspire with the efforts of moral heroes, and understand +the sufferings of martyrs? Say, when all these deep +experiences-these comprehensive truths-may be acquired +through merely one privilege, is life but a dream, or a +breath of air? Thus, too, do immeasurable experiences flow +in to me from nature,--from planet, flower, and ocean. Thus, +too, does more life come to me from contacts in the common +round of action. And, I repeat, every truth thus gained +expands a moment of time into illimitable being,--positively +enlarges my existence, and endows me with a quality which +time cannot weaken or destroy. + +Consider, again, how much we really live in cherishing good +affections, and in performing noble deeds. We have the +familiar lines of the poet, to this point: + + +"One self-approving hour whole years outweighs + Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas." + + +It is true. There is more life in one "self-approving +hour,"-one act of benevolence,-- one work of self- +discipline,--than in threescore years and ten of mere sensual +existence. Go out among the homes of the poor, lift up the +disconsolate, administer comfort to the forlorn; in some way, +as it may come across your path, or lie in the sphere of your +duty, do a deed of kindness; and in that one act you shall +live more than in a year of selfish indulgence and indolent +ease,--yea, more than in a lifetime of such. The poet, with +his burning, immortal lines, while doing his work, lives all +the coming ages of his fame. From every marble feature he +chisels, the sculptor draws an intensity of being that cannot +be imparted by a mere extension of years. The +philanthropist, in his walks of mercy and his ministrations +of love, lives more comprehensively than another may in a +century. His is the fathomless bliss of benevolence,--the +experience of God. The martyr, in his dying hour, with his +face shining like an angel's, does not live longer, but he +lives more than all his persecutors. + +Consider, too, the experiences of religion, of worship, of +prayer. In the act of communion with God, in the realization +of immortality, in the aspirations and the idea of +perfection, there is a depth and scope of being from which +all sensual estimates of time drop away. + +Our mortal life, then, is very comprehensive. If we measure +it, not by its length of years, but by its spiritual results, +be they good or evil, it is a full and large life. It then +appears, like the immortal state, not as a fact of +succession, but of experience. Christ has defined eternal +life as such a fact. "Eternal life," he says, "is to know +thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast +sent." The life of the blessed in heaven is not marked by +years and cycles; it is not so much protracted being, as a +power of knowledge,--a depth of glad and holy consciousness,- +-a constant pulsation of harmony with God. + +Again, every life may be compared to "a tale that is told," +because it has a plot. In the narrative there is a +combination of agencies working to a crisis. There is a +main-point with which all the action is involved. And so +every human life has its main-point.. I will not now take up +time to carry out this illustration minutely. The mere +suggestion that each one is working out a peculiar destiny +invests even the meanest life with a solemn dignity, and +counteracts any disparaging argument drawn from its brevity. + +But still I would urge, that the propriety of this comparison +between the peculiar tendency of an individual life and the +plot of a story, is seen in the fact that every man is +accomplishing a certain moral result in and for himself. +This is inevitable. We may be inactive, but that result is +forming; the mould of habit is growing, and the inward life +is unfolding itself, after its kind. We may think our career +is aimless, but all things give a shape to our character. +And does not this consideration make our mortal life of deep +consequence to us? + +All circumstances and experiences are chiefly important as +affecting this result. One of the highest views we can take +of the universe is that of a theatre for the soul's +education. We are placed upon this earth not to be absorbed +by it, but to use it for the highest spiritual occasions. We +are placed among the joys and sorrows of our daily lives to +be trained for immortal issues. Our business, our domestic +duties, and all our various relations, constitute a school +for our souls. Here our affections and our powers are acted +upon for good or for evil. Grief strengthens our faith and +elevates our thoughts; joy quickens our gratitude, our +obedience, and our trust; temptation forms in us an exalted +and spontaneous virtue, or enfeebles and enslaves us. +Chiefly, then, should we be solicitous about character, the +plot of our life; and in this solicitude our earthly +existence rises to the highest importance. + +Let us, then, feel that our mortal career is not vague and +aimless. Let us realize that each life is a special history. +The poorest, the most obscure, has such a history; and +although it may be unnoticed by men, angels regard it with +interest. The merchant, every day, in the dust, and heat, +and busy maze of traffic, unfolds a history. The beggar by +the way-side, it may be, outrivals kings in the grandeur and +magnitude of his history. In sainted homes,--in narrow nooks +of life,--in the secret heart of love, and prayer, and +patience,--many a tale is told which God alone sees, and +which he approves. The needy tell a tale, in their +unrelieved wants and unpitied sufferings. The oppressed tell +a tale, that goes up into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth. +The vicious tell a tale of wo, and misspent opportunity, and +wasted power. Let us think of it, I beseech you! Each one +of us in his sphere of action is developing a plot which +surely tells in character,--which is fast running into a +great fixed fact. + +Once more, we may compare every life to "a tale that is +told," because it has a moral. Any story, good or bad,--the +most pernicious work of fiction, the most flimsy narrative, +as the grandest history,--has its significance. So it is +with the life of a man. As all his conduct he is building up +the intrinsic results of character for himself,--establishing +in his own soul a fabric of welfare or of wo,--so is he +furnishing a lesson for others, and accomplishing an end by +which they are affected. The purpose for which any one has +lived, the point which he has attained, the personal history +which he has unfolded, constitute the moral of his life. + +For instance, here is a man whose life is frivolous,--divided +between aimless cares and superficial enjoyments. He has no +resources in himself, no fountain of inward peace and joy. +His spirit leaps like new wine in the whirl of exciting +pleasure, but in the hour of solitude and of golden +opportunity, it is "flat, stale, and unprofitable." He marks +off the year by its festivals, and distributes the day into +hours of food, rest, and folly. In short, he holds no +serious conception of life, and he is untouched by lofty +sentiment. The great drama of existence, with its solemn +shifts of scenery and its impending grandeur, is but a +pantomime to him; and he a thoughtless epicurean, a grinning +courtier, a scented fop, a dancing puppet, on the mighty +stage. And surely, such a life, a life of superficiality and +heartlessness, a life of silken niceties and conventional +masquerade, a life of sparkling effervescence, has a moral. +It shows us how vain is human existence when empty of serious +thought, of moral purpose, and of devout emotion. + +Another is a skeptic. He has no genuine faith in +immortality, in virtue, or in God. To him, life is a sensual +opportunity closing up with annihilation and to be enjoyed as +it may. It is a mere game, and he who plays the most +skilful(sic) +hand will win. Virtue is a smooth decency, which it is well +to assume in order to cover and artful selfishness; and it is +a noteworthy fact, too, that, in the long run, those who have +trusted to virtue have made by it. At least, vice is +inexpedient, and it will not do to make a public profession +of it. Religion, too, he says, is well enough; it does for +the weak and the ignorant; though shrewd men, like our +skeptic know that it is all a sham, and, of course, scarce +give it a serious thought. What is religion to a keen- +minded, hard-headed, sagacious man of the world? What has it +to do with business, and politics, and such practical +matters? Pack it away for Sunday, and then put it on with +clean clothes, out of respect for the world; but if it lifts +any remonstrance in the caucus or the counting-room, why, +like a shrewd man, laugh it out of countenance. What has our +skeptic to do with the future world or with spiritual +relations? Keep bugbears to frighten more timid and +credulous persons. But only see how he uses the world, and +plays his scheme, and foils his adversary and twists and +bends his plastic morality, all because he is not troubled +with scruples, and has no faith in God or duty! + +And yet, to the serious eye, that scans his spiritual mood, +and looks all around his shrewd, self-confident position, +there is a great moral in the skeptic's life. It teaches us, +more than ever, the value of faith, and the glory of +religion. That flat negation only makes the rejected truth +more positive. The specimen of what existence is without God +in the world, causes us to yearn more earnestly for the +shelter of His presence, and the blessedness of His control. +From the dark perspective of the skeptic's sensual view, the +bleak annihilation that bounds all his hopes, we turn more +gladly to the auroral promise of immortality, to the +consolations and influences of a life beyond the grave. Yes, +in that tale that is told, in that skeptic history, there is +indeed a great moral. It shows how meaningless and how mean, +how treacherous and false, is that man's life who hangs upon +the balance of a cunning egotism, and moves only from the +impulses of selfish desire-without religion, without virtue, +repudiating the idea of morality, and practically living +without God. + +Or, on the other hand, suppose we call up the image of one +who has well kept the trusts of family, and kindred, and +friendship;--one who has made home a pleasant place; who has +filled it with the sanctities of affection, and adorned it +with a graceful and generous hospitality;--before whose +cheerful temper the perplexities of business have been +smoothed, and whose genial disposition has melted even the +stern and selfish;--who, thus rendering life around her +happier and better, attracting more closely the hearts of +relatives, and making every acquaintance a friend, has, chief +of all, beautifully discharged the sacred offices of wife and +mother; encountering the day of adversity with a noble self- +devotion, enriching the hour of prosperity with wise counsel +and faithful love; unwearied in the time of sickness, patient +and trustful beneath the dispensation of affliction; in +short, by her many virtues and graces evidently the bright +centre of a happy household. And now suppose that, with all +these associations clinging to her, in the bloom of life, +with opportunities for usefulness and enjoyment opening all +around her, death interferes, and suddenly quenches that +light! Is there not left a moral which abides a sweet and +lasting consolation? That moral is-the power of a kind +heart; the worth of domestic virtues; the living freshness of +a memory in which these qualities are combined. + +Thus, then, in its brevity and its comprehensiveness, with +its plot and its moral, we see that each human life is like +"a tale that is told." To you, my friends, I leave the +personal application of these truths. Surely they suggest to +each of us the most vital and solemn considerations. Surely +they call us to diligence and repentance,--to introspection +and prayer. What we are in ourselves,--what use we shall +make of life;--is not this an all important subject? What +lesson we shall furnish for others,--what influence for good +or evil;--can we be indifferent to that? God give us grace +and strength to ponder and to act upon these suggestions! + +Finally, remember under whose dominion all the sorrows and +changes of earth take place. Let your faith in Him be firm +and clear. To Him address your grief;--to Him lift up your +prayer. Of Him seek strength and consolation;--of Him ask +that a holy influence may attend every experience. And while +all the trials of life should quicken us to a loftier +diligence, and inspire us with a keener sense of personal +responsibility, surely when our hearts are sore and +bleeding,--when our hopes lie prostrate, and we are faint and +troubled, it is good to rise to the contemplation of the +Infinite Controller,--to lean back upon the Almighty Goodness +that upholds the universe; to realize that He does verily +watch over us, and care for us; to feel that around and above +all things else He moves the vast circle of his purpose, and +carries within it all our joys and sorrows; and that this +mysterious tale of human life-this tangled plot of our +earthly being-is unfolded beneath His all-beholding eye, and +by His omnipotent and paternal hand. + + + + +The Christian View of Sorrow + + +"A man of sorrow, and acquainted with grief" Is. Iii. 3. + + +There is one great distinction between the productions of +Heathen and of Christian art. While the first exhibits the +perfection of physical form and of intellectual beauty, the +latter expresses, also, the majesty of sorrow, the grandeur +of endurance, the idea of triumph refined from agony. In all +those shapes of old there is nothing like the glory of the +martyr; the sublimity of patience and resignation; the +dignity of the thorn-crowned Jesus. + +It is easy to account for this. In that heathen age the soul +had received no higher inspiration. It was only after the +advent of Christ that men realized the greatness of sorrow +and endurance. It was not until the history of the Garden, +the Judgment-Hall, and the Cross had been developed, that +genius caught nobler conceptions of the beautiful. This fact +is, therefore, a powerful witness to the prophecy in the +text, and to the truth of Christianity. Christ's +personality, as delineated in the Gospels, is not only +demonstrated by a change of dynasties,--an entire new +movement in the world,--a breaking up of the its ancient +order; but the moral ideal which now leads human action,-- +which has wrought this enthusiasm, and propelled man thus +strangely forward,--has entered the subjective realities of +the soul,--breathed new inspiration upon it,--opened up to it +a new conception; and, lo! The statue dilates with a diviner +expression;--lo! The picture wears a more lustrous and +spiritual beauty. + +The Christ of the text, then,--"A man of sorrows, and +acquainted with grief,"-has verily lived, for his image has +been reflected in the minds of men, and has fastened itself +there among their most intimate and vivid conceptions. +Sorrow, as illustrated in Christ's life, and as interpreted +in his scheme of religion, has assumed a new aspect and +yields a new meaning. Its garments of heaviness have become +transfigured to robes of light, its crown of thorns to a +diadem of glory; and often, for some one whom the rich and +joyful of this world pity,--some suffering, struggling, over- +shadowed soul,--there comes a voice from heaven, "This is my +beloved son, in whom I am well pleased." + +I remark, however, that Christianity does not accomplish this +result by denying the character of sorrow. It does not +refuse to render homage to grief. The stoic is as far from +its ideal of virtue as the epicurean. The heart of the true +saint quivers at pain, and his eyes are filled with tears. +Whatever mortifications he may deem necessary as to the +passions of this poor flesh, if he imitates the example of +Christ he cannot deny those better affections which link us +even to God; he cannot harden those sensitive fibres which +are the springs of our best action,--which if callus we +become inhuman. He realizes pain; he recognises sorrow as +sorrow. Its cup is bitter, and to be resisted with prayer. + +There is nothing more wonderful in the history of Jesus than +his keen sense of sorrow, and the scope which he allows it. +In the tenderness of his compassion he soothed the +overflowing spirit, but he never rebuked its tears. On the +contrary, in a most memorable instance, he recognized its +right to grieve. It was on the way to his own crucifixion, +when crowned with insult, and lacerated with his own sorrows. +"Daughters of Jerusalem," said he, to the sympathizing women, +"weep not for me, but weep for yourselves and for your +children." As though he had said, "You have a right to weep; +weep, then, in that great catastrophe which is coming, when +barbed affliction shall pierce your hearts, and the dearest +ties shall be cut in sunder. Those ties are tender; those +hearts are sacred. Therefore, weep!" + +But Christ did more than sanction tears in others. He wept +himself. Closest in our consciousness, because they will be +most vivid to us in our darkest and our last hours, are those +incidents by the grave of Lazarus, and over against +Jerusalem; the sadness of Gethsemane, and the divine pathos +of the last supper. Never can we fully realize what a +tribute to sorrow is rendered by the tears of Jesus, and the +dignity which has descended upon those who mourn, because he +had not where to lay his head, was despised and rejected of +men, and cried out in bitter agony from the cross. He could +not have been our exemplar by despising sorrow-by treating it +with contempt; but only by shrinking from its pain, and +becoming intimate with its anguish,--only as "a man of +sorrows, and acquainted with grief." + +But, on the other hand, Christianity does not over-estimate +sorrow. While it pronounces a benediction upon the mourner, +it does not declare it best that man should always mourn. It +would not have us deny the good that is in the universe. +Nay, I apprehend that sorrow itself is a testimony to that +good,--is the anguish and shrinking of the severed ties that +have bound us to it; that it clings closest in hearts of the +widest and most various sympathies; that only souls which +have loved much and enjoyed much can feel its intensity or +know its discipline. In the language of another, "Sorrow is +not an independent state of mind, standing unconnected with +all others...It is the effect, and, under the present +conditions of our being, the inevitable effect, of strong +affections. Nay, it is not so much their result, as a +certain attitude of those affections themselves. It not +simply flows from the love of excellence, of wisdom, of +sympathy, but it is that very love, when conscious that +excellence, that wisdom, that sympathy have departed." They, +then, who deem it necessary for man's spiritual welfare that +he should constantly feel the pressure of chastisement, and +be engirt with the mist of tears, do not reason well. Jeremy +Taylor reasons thus, when he says in allusion to certain +lamps which burned for many ages in a tomb, but which expired +when brought into open day: "So long as we are in the +retirements of sorrow, of want, of fear, of sickness, we are +burning and shining lamps; but when God lifts us up from the +gates of death and carries us abroad into the open air, to +converse with prosperity and temptations, we go out in +darkness; and we cannot be preserved in light and heat but by +still dwelling in the regions of sorrow." "There is beauty, +and, to a certain extent, truth in this figure," says a +writer, in reply; "but it by no means follows that continuous +suffering would be good for man; on the contrary, it would be +as remote from producing the perfection of our moral nature +as unmitigated prosperity. It would be apt to produce a +morbid and ghastly piety; the 'bright lamps' of which Taylor +speaks would still be irradiating only a tomb." (Edinburgh +Review No 141 The article on Pascal) We may doubt whether +there is more essential religiousness in this seeking of +sorrow as a mortification,--in this monastic self-laceration +and exclusion,--than in the morbid misery of the +hypochondriac. Neither comprehends the whole of life, nor is +adapted to its realities. Christ was "a man of sorrows and +acquainted with grief;" but he was also full of sympathy with +all good, and enjoyed the charm of friendship, and the light +of existence. Around that great Life gather many amenities. +Below that face of agony beats a heart familiar with the best +affections of human nature; otherwise, we may believe, the +agony would not appear. The sadness of that last supper +indicates the breaking up of many joyful communions and the +history which closes in the shadow of the cross mingles with +the festival of Cana, and lingers around the home at Bethany. + +But I remark, once more, that while Christianity neither +despises nor affects to desire sorrow, it clearly recognizes +its great and beneficial mission. In one word, it shows its +disciplinary character, and thus practically interprets the +mystery of evil. It regards man as a spiritual being, thrown +upon the theatre of this mortal life not merely for +enjoyment, but for training,--for the development of +spiritual affinities, and the attainment of spiritual ends. +It thus reveals a weaning, subduing, elevating power, in +sorrow. + +The origin of evil may puzzle us;--its use no Christian can +deny. A sensual philosophy may shrink from it, in all its +aspects, and retreat into a morbid skepticism or a timid +submission. If we predicate mere happiness as "our being's +end and aim," there is no explanation of evil. From this +point of view, there is an ambiguity in nature,--a duality in +every object, which we cannot solve. The throne of infinite +light and love casts over the face of creation an +inexplicable shadow. If we were made merely to be happy, why +this hostility all around us? Why these sharp oppositions of +pain and difficulty? Why these writhing nerves, these aching +hearts, and over-laden eyes? Why the chill of +disappointment, the shudder of remorse, the crush and blight +of hope? Why athwart the horizon flicker so many shapes of +misery and sin? Why appear these sad spectacles of painful +dying chambers, and weary sick-beds?--these countless tomb- +stones, too-ghastly witness to death and tears? Explain for +me those abrupt inequalities,--the long train of necessities, +poverty and its kindred woes, those fearful realities that +lie in the abysses of every city,--that hideous, compressed +mass which welters in the awful baptism of sensuality and +ignorance,--the groans of inarticulate woe, the spectacle of +oppression, the shameless cruelty of war, the pestilence that +shakes its comet-sword over nations, and famine that peers +with skeleton face through the corn-sheaves of plenty. Upon +this theory of mere happiness no metaphysical subtlety can +solve the fact of evil;--the coiled enigma constantly returns +upon itself, inexplicable as ever. + +But when we take the Christian view of life, we discover that +not happiness merely, but virtue, holiness, is the great end +of man; though happiness comes in as an inevitable +consequence and accompaniment of this result. And in the +light reflected from this view, evil assumes a powerful, and, +I may say, a most beautiful office. It is just as necessary +for the attainment of virtue as prosperity, or any blessing. +Nay, in this aspect, it is itself a great blessing, and + + + "Every cloud that spreads above + And veileth love, itself is love." + + +It is evident that, without the contact of sin and the +pressure of temptation, there might be innocence, but not +virtue. Equally evident does it seem that, without an +acquaintance with grief, there would soon be but little of +that uplifting tendency-that softening of the heart, and +sanctifying of the affections-which fit us for the +dissolution of our earthly ties, and for the communions of +the spirit world. Beautiful is this weaning efficacy of +sorrow. By the ordinance of God, youth is made to be content +with this outward and palpable life. The sunshine and the +air-the flow of animal pleasures, encircled mysteriously with +the guardianship of parents, and the love of friends-are +sufficient for the child. But as we grow in years, there +springs up a dissatisfaction, a restlessness, of which we may +be only half conscious, and still less know how to cure. +With some, this may subside into merely a fearful and worldly +discontent; others may heed the prophecy and lay hold on a +celestial hope, an immortal possession as the only remedy. +In this secret sense of want, which neither nature nor man +can fill they will hear already that low, divine voice,-- +"Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I +will give you rest." But generally another and more emphatic +missionary is necessary. It is the veiled angel of sorrow, +who plucks away one thing and another that bound us here in +ease and security, and in the vanishing of these dear objects +indicates the true home of our affections and our peace. +Thus, by rupture and loss we become weaned from earth, and +the dissatisfaction and discontent which sorrow thus induces +are as kind and providential as the carelessness of youth. + +Who does not see that it is so,--that as we journey on in +life there are made in our behalf preparations for another +state of being,--unmistakable premonitions of that fact which +the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews so eloquently +states, that "here have we no continuing city"? The gloss of +objects in which we delighted is worn off by attrition,--is +sicklied o'er by care; the vanity of earthly things startles +us suddenly, like a new truth; the friends we love drop away +from our side into silence; desire fails; the grasshopper +becomes a burden; until, at length, we feel that our only +love is not here below,--until these tendrils of earth aspire +to a better climate, and the weight that has been laid upon +us makes us stoop wearily to the grave as a rest and a +deliverance. We have, even through our tears, admired that +discipline which sometimes prepares the young to die; which, +by sharp trials of anguish, and long days of weariness, weans +them from that keen sense of mortal enjoyment which is so +naturally theirs; which, through the attenuation of the body, +illuminates the soul, and, as it steals the bloom from the +cheek, kindles the lustre of faith in the eye, and makes even +that young spirit look, unfaltering, across the dark river, +and, putting aside its earthly loves and its reasonable +expectations, exclaim, "Now I am ready!" But it would appear +that equal preparation, though in different forms, is +provided for most of us, in the various experiences of sorrow +which we are called upon to know, and which, if we would but +heed them, have a celestial mission, seeking to draw us up +from this lower state, to induce us to lay up our treasure +where neither moth nor rust corrupts. And in the Christian +view of man as an heir of the spiritual word, does not +sorrow, in this its weaning tendency, receive a most +beautiful explanation? + +And, because it accomplishes this work, may be the reason why +sorrow always wears a kind of supernatural character. It is +true that blessings, equally with afflictions, come from +Heaven; but this truth is not so generally felt. A sharp +disappointment will suddenly drive us to God. The mariner of +life sails, unthinking, over its prosperous seas, but a flaw +of storm will bring him to his prayers. And religion, reason +as we will, is peculiarly associated with affliction. And +does not sorrow possess this supernatural air, not merely +because it interrupts the usual order of things, but because, +more than joy, it has a weaning and spiritual tendency,--is +sent, as it were, more directly from God for this specific +purpose? At least, after the sanctifying experience of +sorrow, we hold our joys more religiously. + +There are other tendencies of sorrow akin to this, upon which +I might dwell, and which show the explanation that it +receives in the Christian light. The humbling effect that it +has upon the proud and hard-hearted; the equalizing result +which it works, making the rich and poor, the obscure and the +great, stand upon the level of the common humanity,--the +common liability and dependence. I might, expanding the +topic already touched upon, speak of the influence which +sorrow sheds abroad, chastening the light, at tempering the +draught of joy, and thus keeping our hearts better balanced +than otherwise. But I have sufficiently illustrated its +mission. I have shown its use, even its beauty, in the +Christian view. I have shown why Christianity, as the +universal religion, is rightly styled the "religion of +sorrow," and why Christ, as the perfect teacher and example, +was "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." + +Let us all, then, recognize the fact that life itself is a +discipline. That for each of us sorrow is mingled with joy +in order that this discipline may be accomplished. No one +reaches the noon of life without some grief, some +disappointment, some sharp trial, which assures him, if he +will but heed it, that life is already declining, and that +his spirit should train itself for a higher and more +permanent state. In the failure of mortal excellence let him +recognize the proof of an immortal good, and from the +bitterness that mingles with these earthly waters, turn to +drink of the celestial fountain. Of all things, let us not +receive sorrow indifferently, or without reflection. Its +mission is for discipline, but we feel it to be discipline +only by recognizing its source and its meaning; "it yieldeth +the peaceable fruits of righteousness" only "to them that are +exercised thereby." Otherwise, it may come and go as the +storm that rends the oak, or the drenching tempest that +glides off as it falls. It may startle us for a moment,--it +may hurt us with a sense of pain and loss,--it may awe us +with its mystery; but unless it rouses us to solemn thought +upon the meaning of life, to self-communion and prayer, to +higher and holier action, it availeth little. It should not +smite the heart's chords to wring from them a mere shriek of +distress, but to inspire it with a deeper and more elevated +tone, and by the element of sadness which it infuses make a +more liquid and exquisite melody. + +But while we are thus taught to chasten our views of life, +and to hold even our joys with seriousness, and with wise +forethought, let us not look upon things with any morbid +vision, or cast over them a monotonous hue. Let us not live +in gloom and bitterness. The Christian, of all others, is +the best fitted for a cheerful and proper enjoyment of life, +because he wisely recognizes the use of things, understands +their evanescent nature, and sees the infinite goodness that +has so ordained it. He is not surprised by sudden terrors. +He is prepared for sorrow, and thus can rest in peace with +the good that he has; while those who bury heart and soul in +the present enjoyment, and know nothing but sensual good, are +broken down by calamity. The sudden change, like a thunder- +gust, puts out their light, and darkens all their life; and +it is they who are apt to fall from the summit of delight +into a morbid gloom; while the Christian, with his balanced +soul, inhabits neither extreme. + +Finally, let us remember that it is not the object of sorrow +to overcome, but to elevate; not to conquer us, but that we, +by it, should conquer. It converts the thorns that wound us +into a crown. It makes us strong by the baptism of tears. +The saint is always a hero. This explains that grand +distinction between Heathen and Christian art, of which I +spoke in the commencement; that expression of power blended +with agony,--of celestial beatitude refining itself upon the +face of grief. Christianity has made martyrdom sublime, and +sorrow triumphant. Christ is "the Captain of our +salvation,"-the leader of "many sons unto glory;" for he was +"a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." + + + + +Christian Consolation in Loneliness + + +"And yet I am not alone, because the Father is with me." John +xvi.32. + + +These words are found in the farewell address of Jesus to his +disciples. They were uttered in the dark hour of coming +agony, and in the face of ignominious death. Because Christ +was divinely empowered, and possessed the spirit without +measure, let us not suppose that to him there was no pain or +sorrow, in that great crisis. With all his supernatural +dignity, he appears to us far more attractive when we +consider him as impressible by circumstances,--as moved by +human sympathies. He is thus not merely a teacher, but a +pattern for us. In all our trials he not only enables us to +endure and to triumph, but draws us close to himself by the +affinity of his own experience. We see, too, how the best +men, men of the clearest faith, may still look upon death +with a shudder, and shrink from the dark and narrow valley; +not because they fear death as such, but because of the agony +of dissolution, the rupture of all familiar ties, and the +solemn mystery of the last change. + +But death and suffering, as Jesus was now to meet them, +appeared in no ordinary forms. He was to bear affliction +with no friendly consolations around him; but alone!--alone +in the wrestling of the garden, and amid the cruel mockery. +Not upon the peaceful death-bed, but upon the bare and rugged +cross, torn by nails, pierced with the spear, crowned with +thorns, taunted by the revilings of the multitude, the +vinegar and the gall. He must be deserted, and encounter +these trials alone. He must be rejected, betrayed, crucified +alone. And as he spoke to his disciples those words of +affection and holiness-those words so full of counsel and +sublime consolation-he remembered all this; he remembered +that they who now clung to him, and listened in sorrow to his +parting accents, would soon be scattered as sheep without a +shepherd, and leave him to himself in all that shame and +agony. But even as he foretold it there gleamed upon his +spirit the sunshine of an inner consciousness,--a comfort +that no cloud could darken; and instantly he added, "And yet +I am not alone, because the Father is with me." + +Having thus considered the circumstances in which these words +were spoken, I now proceed to draw from them a few +reflections. + +I would say, then, in the first place, that the great test +which proves the excellence of the religion of Christ is its +adaptation to man in solitude,--to man as a solitary being; +because it is then that he is thrown upon the resources of +his own soul,--upon his inner and everlasting life. In +society he finds innumerable objects to attract his attention +and to absorb his affections. The ordinary cares of every +day, the pursuit of his favorite scheme, the converse of +friends, the exciting topics of the season, the hours of +recreation, all fill up his time, and occupy his mind with +matters external to himself. And looking upon him merely in +these relations, if we could forget its great social +bearings, and the harmonies which flow from its all-pervading +spirit out into every condition of life, we might, perhaps, +say that man could get along well enough without religion. +If this world were made up merely of business and pleasure, +perhaps the atheist's theory would suffice, and we might feel +indifferent whether controlled by plastic matter or +intelligent mind. We will admit that happiness, in one sense +of the term, does not essentially depend upon religion. Nay, +we must admit this proposition. A man may be happy without +being religious. Good health, good spirits;--how many, +possessing these really enjoy life, without being devout, or +religious according to any legitimate meaning of that term. + +But change the order of circumstances. Remove these external +helps,--substitute therefor sorrow, duty, the revelations of +our own inner being,--and all this gayety vanishes like the +sparkles from a stream when a storm comes up. The soul that +has depended upon outward congenialities for its happiness +has no permanent principle of happiness; for that is the +distinction which religion bestows. He who cannot retire +within himself, and find his best resources there, is fitted, +perhaps, for the smoother passages of life, but poorly +prepared for all life. He who cannot and dare not turn away +from these outward engrossments, and be in spiritual +solitude,--who is afraid or sickens at the idea of being +alone,--has a brittle possession in all that happiness which +comes from the whirl and surface of things. One hour may +scatter it forever. And poorly, I repeat, is he prepared for +all life,--for some of the most serious and important moments +of life. These, as I shall proceed to show, we must meet +alone, and from within; and therefore, it constitutes the +blessedness of the Christian religion that it enables man +when in solitude to have communion, consolation, and +guidance. In fact, it makes him, when alone, to be not +alone,--to say, with glad consciousness, "I am not alone, +because the Father is with me." + +To illustrate this truth, then, I say, that so far as the +communion and help of this outward world and of human society +are concerned, there are many and important seasons when man +must be alone. In the first place, in his most interior and +essential nature, man is a solitary being. He is an +individual, a unit, amid all the souls around him, and all +other things,--a being distinct and peculiar as a star. God, +in all the variety of his works, has made no man exactly like +another. There is an individual isolation, a conscious +personality, which he can share with no other; which resists +the idea of absorption; which claims its own distinct +immortality; which has its own wants and woes, its own sense +of duty, its own spiritual experiences. Christianity insists +upon nothing more strongly than this. Piercing below all +conventionalisms, it recognizes man as an individual soul, +and, as such, addresses him with its truths and its +sanctions. Indeed, it bases its grand doctrine of human +brotherhood and equality upon the essential individuality of +each man, because each represents all,--each has in himself +the nature of every other. It demands individual repentance, +individual holiness, individual faith. One cannot believe +for another. One cannot decide questions of conscience for +another. One cannot bear the sins or appropriate the virtues +of another. It is true, we have relations to the great +whole, to the world of mankind, and to the material universe. +We are linked to these by subtle affinities. We are +interwoven with them all,--bound up with them in arterial +unity and life. They have all poured their results into our +souls, and helped to form us, and do now support us; and we, +in like manner, react upon them, and upon others. This truth +is a vital one, not to be neglected. But a deeper truth than +this and one upon which this depends, is the individual +peculiarity of each,--his integral distinctiveness, without +which there would be no such thing as union, or relationship; +nothing but monotony and inertia. + +The great fact, then, which I would impress upon you is, +that, essentially as spiritual beings, we are alone. And I +remark that there are experiences in life when we are made to +feel this deep fact; when each must deal with his reason, his +heart, his conscience, for himself; when each is to act as if +the sole-existent in the universe, realizing that he is a +spirit breathed from God, complete in himself, subject to all +spiritual laws, interested in all spiritual welfare; when no +stranger soul, though it be that of his dearest friend, can +intermeddle with all that occupies him, or share it. + +Such experiences we have when reflection binds us to the +past. Memory then opens for us a volume that no eye but +God's and ours can read;--memories of neglect, of sin, of +deep secrets that our hearts have hidden in their innermost +folds. Such experiences sometimes there are when we muse +upon the external universe; when we reflect upon the vastness +of creation, the littleness of human effort, the transciency +of human relations; when our souls are drawn away from all +ordinary communions, and we feel that we are drifting before +an almighty will, bound to an inevitable destiny, hemmed in +by irresistible forces. Then, with every tie of association +shrinking from us; then, keeping the solitary vigil; then +with cold, vast nature all around us, we are alone. Or, +there is a solitude which oppresses us even in the heart of +the great city;--a solitude more intense even than that of +naked nature; when all faces are strange to us; when no pulse +of sympathy throbs from our heart to the hearts of others +when each passes us by, engaged with his own destiny, and +leaving us to fulfil ours. In this tantalizing solitude of +the crowd, in this sense of isolation from our fellows, if +never before, do we feel, with sickness of heart, that we are +alone. There is a solitude of sickness,--the solitude of the +watcher or of the patient,--a solitude to which, at times, +duty and Providence call us all. There are, in brief, +countless circumstances of life when we shall realize that we +are indeed alone, and sad enough will be that solitude if we +have no inner resource,--no Celestial companionship;--if we +cannot say and feel as we say it, that we are not alone, for +the Father is with us. + +But, while I cannot specify all these forms of solitude, let +me dwell upon two or three of the experiences of life in +which we are peculiarly alone. + +First, then, I would say, that we must be alone in the +pursuit of Truth and the work of Duty. Others may aid me in +these, but I must decide and act for myself. I must believe +for myself. I must do right for myself; or if I do wrong, it +is also for myself, and in myself I realize the retribution. +By my own sense of right and wrong-by my own standard of +truth and falsehood-I must stand or fall. There is in this +world nothing so great and solemn as the struggles of the +solitary soul in its researches after the truth,--in its +endeavors to obey the right. We may be indifferent to these +vital questions,--it is to be feared that many are; we may +glide along in the suppleness of habit, and the ease of +conventionalism; we may never trouble ourselves with any +pungent scruples; we may never pursue the task of +introspection, or bring to bear upon the fibres of motive and +desire within us the intense focus of God's moral law; we may +never vex our souls with tests of faith, but rest contented +with the common or hereditary standard;--but he who will be +serious in the work of spiritual discipline, who will act +from a vital law of duty, must endure struggles and conflicts +than which, I repeat, there is nothing more solemn under the +sun. He will often find himself opposed to the general +current of human faith and action. His position will be +singular. His principle will be tried. Interest will direct +him another way; his strictness will be ridiculed, his +motives questioned, his sincerity misunderstood and aspersed. +Alone must he endure all this,--along cling to the majestic +ideal of right as it rises to his own soul. And thus he must +wage a bitter conflict with fear and with seduction,--with +sophistries of the heart, and reluctance of the will. + +Often, too, must he question his own motives with a severer +judgment than that of the world, as his scrutiny is more +close, and his self-knowledge more minute. He knows the +secret sin, the mental act, the spiritual aberration. He +knows the distance between his highest effort and that lofty +standard of perfection to which he has pledged his purposes. +Alone, alone does the great conflict go on within him. The +struggle, the self-denial, the pain, and the victory, are of +the very essence of martyrdom,--are the chief peculiarities +in the martyr's lot. His, too, must be the solitude of +prayer, when, by throwing by all entanglements,--in his naked +individuality,--he wrestles at the Mercy Seat, or soars to the +bliss of Divine communion. In such hours,--in every hour of +self-communion,--when we ask ourselves the highest questions +respecting faith and duty, it is the deepest comfort to the +religious soul to feel and to say, "I am not alone, for the +Father is with me." + +Again; there are experiences of Sorrow in which we are +peculiarly alone. How often does the soul feel this when it +is suffering from the loss of friends! Then we find no +comfort in external things. Pleasure charms not; business +cannot cheat us of our grief; wealth supplies not the void; +and though the voice of friendship falls in consolation upon +the ear, yet with all these, we are alone,--alone! No other +spirit can fully comprehend our woe, or enter into our +desolation. No human eye can pierce to our sorrows; no +sympathy can share them. Alone we must realize their sharp +suggestions, their painful memories, their brood of sad and +solemn thoughts. The mother bending over her dead child;--O! +what solitude is like that?--where such absolute loneliness +as that which possesses her soul, when she takes the final +look of that little pale face crowned with flowers and +sleeping in its last chamber, with the silent voice of the +dead uttering its last good night? What more solitary than +the spirit of one who, like the widow of Nain, follows to the +grave her only son?--of one from whom the wife, the mother, +has been taken? The mourner is in solitude,--alone, in this +peopled world;--O, how utterly alone! Through the silent +valley of tears wanders that stricken spirit, seeing only +memorials of that loss. + +Indeed, sorrow of any kind is solitary. Its deepest pangs, +its most solemn visitations, are in the secrecy of the +individual soul. We labor to conceal it from others. We +wear a face of unconcern or gayety amid the multitude. +Society is thronged with masked faces. Unseen burdens of woe +are carried about in its busy haunts. The man of firm step +in the mart, and of vigorous arm in the workshop, has +communions in his chamber that make him weak as a child. +Nothing is more deceitful than a happy countenance. Haggard +spirits laugh over the wine-cup, and the blooming garland of +pleasure crowns an aching head. For sorrow is secret and +solitary. Each "heart knoweth its own bitterness." + +How precious, then, in the loneliness of sorrow, is that +faith which bids us look up and see how near is God, and feel +what divine companionship is ours, and know what infinite +sympathy engirds us,--what concern for our good is, even in +this darkness, shaping out blessings for us, and distilling +from this secret agony everlasting peace for the soul. How +precious that faith in the clear vision of which we can say, +"I am not alone, for the Father is with me." + +Finally, we must experience Death alone. As I said in the +commencement, the best, the most pious soul, may naturally +shrink from this great event. We may learn to anticipate it +with resignation, to look upon it with trust; but +indifference respecting it is no proof of religion. It would +be, rather, a bad sign for one to approach it without +emotion; for however his faith may penetrate beyond, the +religious spirit will, with deep awe, lift that curtain of +mystery which hangs before the untried future. That is a +fact which we must encounter alone. Friends may gather +around us; their ministrations may aid, their consolations +soothe us. They may be with us to the very last; they may +cling to us as though they would pluck us back to the shores +of time; their voices may fall, the last of earthly sounds, +upon our ears; their kiss awaken the last throb of +consciousness; but they cannot go with us, they cannot die in +our stead; the last time must come,--they must loosen their +hold from us, and fade from our vision, and we become wrapt +in the solemn experience of death, alone! Alone must we +tread the dark valley,--alone embark for the unseen land. +No, Christian! not alone. To your soul, thus separated in +blank amazement from all familiar things, still is that +vision of faith granted that so often lighted your earthly +perplexities; to you is it given, in this most solitary hour, +to say, "I am not alone for the Father is with me!" + +I repeat, then, in closing, that the test which proves the +excellence of the religion of Christ is the fact that it fits +us for those solemn hours of life when we must be alone. +Mere happiness we may derive from other sources; but this +consolation not all the world can give,--the world cannot +take it away. + +Let us remember, then, that though we seldom look within- +though our affections may be absorbed in external things- +these solitary seasons will come. It behoves us, therefore, +as we value true peace of mind, genuine happiness, which +connects us to the throne of God with golden links of +prayer,--it behoves each to ask himself, "Dare I be alone? +Am I ready to be alone? And what report will my soul make in +that hour of solitude? If I do wrong, if I cleave to evil +rather than the good, what shall I do when I am alone, and +yet not alone, but with the Father? But if I do right, if I +trust in Him, and daily walk with Him, what crown of human +honor, what store of wealth, what residuum of earthly +pleasure, can compare with the glad consciousness that +wherever I rest or wander, in every season and circumstance, +in the solitary hours of life, and the loneliness of death, +God is verily with me?" + +Surely no attainment is equal to that strength of Christ, by +which, when approaching the cross, he was able to say, "I am +not alone, for the Father is with me." By this strength, he +was able to do more than to say and feel thus. He was able +to strengthen others,--to exclaim, "Be of good cheer, I have +overcome the world." So we, by spiritual discipline, having +learned of Christ to be thus strong, not only possess a +spring of unfailing consolation for ourselves, but there +shall go out from us a benediction and a power that shall +gladden the weary and fortify the weak,--that shall fill the +solitude of many a lonely spirit with the consolations of the +Father's love, and the bliss of the Father's presence. + + + + +Resignation + + +"The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink +it?" John xvii.11. + + +The circumstances in which these words were uttered have, +doubtless, often arrested your attention,--have often been +delineated for you by others. Yet it is always profitable +for us to recur to them. They transpired immediately after +our Saviour's farewell with his disciples. The entire +transaction in that "upper room" had been hallowed and +softened by the fact of his coming death. He saw that fact +distinctly before him, and to his eye everything was +associated with it. As he took the bread and broke it, it +seemed to him an emblem of himself, pierced and dying; and +from the fulness of his spirit he spoke, "Take, eat, this is +my body, broken for you." As he took the cup and set it +before them, it reminded him of his blood, that must flow ere +his mission was fulfilled, and he could say, "It is +finished." And then, when the traitor rose from that table +to go out and consummate the very purpose that should lead to +that event, as one who had arrayed himself in robes of death, +and was about to declare his legacy, he broke forth in that +sublime strain commencing, "Now is the Son of man glorified, +and God is glorified in him;"-that strain of mingled precept, +and promise, and warning, and prayer, from which the weary +and the sick-hearted of all ages shall gather strength and +consolation, and which shall be read in dying chambers and +houses of mourning until death and sorrow shall reign no +more. + +Laden, then, with the thought of his death, he had gone with +his disciples into the garden of Gethsemane. There, in the +darkness and loneliness of night, the full anguish of his +situation rushed upon his spirit. He shrank from the rude +scenes that opened before him,--from the mocker's sneer and +the ruler's scourge; from the glare of impatient revenge, and +the weeping eyes of helpless friendship; from the insignia of +imposture and of shame; and from the protracted, thirsty, +torturing death. He shrank from these,--he shrank from the +rupture of tender ties,--he shrank from the parting with +deeply-loved friends,--his soul was overburdened, his spirit +was swollen to agony, and he rushed to his knees, and prayed, +"Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me." Yet +even then, in the intensity of his grief, the sentiment that +lay deep and serene below suggested the conditions, and he +added, "Nevertheless, not my will, but thine, be done." But +still the painful thought oppressed him, and, though more +subdued now, he knelt and prayed again, "O, my Father, if +this cup may not pass away from me except I drink it, thy +will be done." And once more, as he returned from his weary, +sleeping disciples, and found himself alone, the wish broke +forth-yet tempered by the same obedient compliance. + +And here I pause to ask, if, in all that scene of agony, +anything is developed inconsistent with the character of +Christ? If we would have it otherwise? If these tears and +groans of anguish are tokens of a weakness that we would +conceal from our convictions,--that we would overlook, as +marring the dignity and the divinity of the Saviour? For +one, I would not have it otherwise. I would not have the +consoling strength, the sympathizing tenderness, the holy +victory that may be drawn from thence,--I would not have +these left out from the Life that was given us as a pattern. +Jesus, we are told, "was made perfect through suffering." +This struggle took place that victory might be won;--this +discipline of sorrow fell upon him that perfection and beauty +might be developed. By this we see that Christ's was a +spirit liable to trial,--impressible by suffering; and from +this fact does the victory appear greater and more real. In +this we see one striving with man's sorrow,--seeking, like +man, to be delivered from pain and grief, yet rising to a +calm obedience,--a lofty resignation. Had Jesus passed +through life always serene, always unshrinking, we should not +have seen a man, but something that man is not, something +that man cannot be in this world; and that calm question, +"The cup that my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" +would lose its force and significance. Otherwise, why should +not Jesus be as resigned as before? He had betrayed no sense +of suffering, no impressibility by pain; why should he not be +willing, seeing he was always able to meet the end? But O! +when that deep, holy calmness has fallen upon a soul that has +been tossed by sorrow, and that has shrunk from death,--when +the brow has come up smooth and radiant from the shadow of +mourning,--when that soul is ready for the issue, not because +it has always felt around it the girdle of Omnipotence, but +because, through weakness and suffering, it has risen and +worked out an unfaltering trust, and taken hold of the hand +of God by the effort of faith,--then it is, I say, that +resignation if beautiful and holy,--then do we wonder and +admire. + +So it was with Jesus. A little while ago we saw him bowed +with sorrow, his eyes lifted with tears to heaven. We saw +that he keenly felt the approaching pain, and shame, and +death. A little while ago, the still night air was laden +with his cry, "Father, if it be thy will, let this cup pass +from me." And now, as one who is strong and ready, he says +calmly to Peter, "The cup which my Father hath given me, +shall I not drink it?" Truly, a battle has been fought, and +a victory won, here; but we should not be the better for it, +were it not for that very process of suffering in which that +battle was waged, and from which that victory was wrung. +Now, when we sorrow, we know who also sorrowed; we remember +whose agony the still heavens looked upon with all their +starry eyes,--whose tears moistened the bosom of the bare +earth,--whose cry of anguish pierced the gloom of night. +Now, too, when we sorrow, we know where to find relief; we +learn the spirit of resignation, and under what conditions it +may be born. Thank God, then, for the lesson of the lonely +garden and the weeping Christ-we, too, may be "made perfect +through suffering." + +Such, then, were the circumstances that illustrate the words +of the text. Scarcely had Jesus risen from his knees, and +wakened the drowsy disciples, when the light of lanterns +flashed upon him, and Judas came with a multitude to bear him +to that death from which, but now, he shrunk with agony. But +he shrank no more. The trial was over,--the darkness had +vanished,--an angel had strengthened him; and when the +impetuous Peter drew his sword and smote off the servant's +ear, his master turned to him, with the calm rebuke, "Put up +thy sword into his sheath; the cup which my Father hath given +me, shall I not drink it?" Yes, cold and bitter as that cup +was, pressed next to his very lips, he had learned to drink +it. God had given him strength, and no more did he falter, +no more did he groan-save once, for a moment, when, upon the +cross, drooping, and racked with intense pain, he cried out, +"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" But that passed +away in the triumphant ejaculation, "It is finished!" + +Such was the resignation of Jesus; a trait in his character +which, like all the rest, is not only to be admired, but +imitated;--not an abstract virtue, manifested by a being so +perfect and so enshrined in the sanctity of a divine nature +that we cannot approach it, and in our mortal, work-day +trials can never feel it; but a virtue which should be +throned in every heart, the strength and consolation of which +every suffering soul may experience. Nay, if there is one +virtue which is more often needed than any other, which lies +at the base of true happiness, and than which there is no +surer seal of piety, it is this virtue of resignation. And +let me proceed to say, that by resignation I mean not cold +and sullen apathy, or reckless hardihood, but a sweet trust +and humble acquiescence, which show that the soul has +submitted itself to the Father who knows and does best, and +that it meets his dispensations with obedience and his +mysteries with faith. The apathy and hardihood to which I +have alluded are very far from the trust and piety of a +religious spirit. The fatalist acquiesces in the course of +things because he cannot help it. He has reasoned to the +conclusion that his murmuring and weeping will not alter +matters and he has resolved to take things as they come. But +here is no resignation to the will of God, but to the +necessity of things. Here is no faith that all things are +wisely ordered, and that sorrow is but the shadow of the +Father's hand. No; here is the simple belief that things are +as they are, and cannot be altered,-that an arbitrary law is +the eternal rule, not a benevolent and holy purpose; and the +philosopher would be just as resigned if he believed all +things to be under the guidance of a blind fate, whose iron +machinery drives on to level or exalt, unintelligent and +remorseless, whether in its course it brings about good or +evil,-whether it gladdens human hearts or crushes them. Such +resignation as this may be quite common in the world, +manifested in various phases, and by men of different +religious opinions. Do we not often hear the expression, +"Well, things are as they are,-we do best to take them as +they come;" and here the matter ends? No higher reference is +made. The things alluded to may issue from the bosom of +material nature, may be sent into the world by chance, or may +come from the good Father of all; but the minds of these +reasoners reach not so far. Now I repeat, there is no +religion and no true philosophy in this method; certainly it +is not such resignation as Jesus manifested. In fact, it +indicates total carelessness as to the discipline of life, +and will generally be found with men in whose thoughts God is +not, or to whose conceptions he is the distant, inactive +Deity, not the near and ever-working Controller. I cannot +admire the conduct of that man who when the bolt of sorrow +falls, receives it upon the armor of a rigid fatalism, who +wipes scarcely a tear from his hard, dry face, and says, +"Well, it cannot be helped; things are so ordered." Below +all this there is often a sulky, half-angry sentiment, as +though the victim felt the blow, but was determined not to +wince,-as though there was an acknowledgment of weakness, +but also a display of pride,-a feeling that we cannot resist +sorrow, yet that sorrow has no business to come, and now that +it has come the sufferer will not yield to it. This, +evidently, is not resignation, religious resignation, but +only sullen acquiescence, or reckless hardihood. + +In a certain sense it is true that we do well to take things +as they come,-that we cannot help the eternal laws that +control events. But we must go behind this truth. Whence do +events come, and for what purpose do they come? What is +life, and for what end are all its varied dispensations? +Religion points us up beyond the cloud of materialism, and +behind the mechanism of nature, to an Infinite Spirit, to a +God, to a Father. All things are moved by infinite Love. +Life is not merely a phenomenon, it is a Lesson. Its events +do not come and go, in a causeless, arbitrary manner; they +are meant for our discipline and our good. In whatever +aspect they come, then, let their appropriate lesson be +heeded. This is the religious view of life, and is wide +apart from the philosophy that lets events happen as they +will, as though we were in the setting of a heady current, +and were borne along among other matters that now help us, +now jar and wound us,-that happen without order and without +object; all, like ourselves, driven along and taking things +as they come. In the religious view, all things stream from +God's throne, and whatever sky hangs over them, the infinite +One is present; prosperity is the sunshine that he has sent, +and Faith, as she weeps, beholds a bow in the clouds. + +The religious man takes things as they come, but how? In a +reverent and filial spirit, a spirit that obeys and trusts +because God has ordained. He refers, behind the event, to +the will that declares it. And yet, this will be no formal +lifeless resignation. He will not be stripped of his +manhood, or become unnatural in his religion. His +resignation will not be the cold assent of reason, or the +mere rote and repetition of the lips. No, it will be born in +struggling and in sorrow. Religion is not a process that +makes our nature callous to all fierce heats or drenching +storms. Neither is he the most religious man who is calmest +in the keen crisis of trouble. I say in the crisis of +trouble-for to human vision there always is a crisis. We +cannot penetrate to the secret determinations of God, and in +the season of care and affliction there is a time when the +issue is uncertain,-when we cannot say it is sealed. What +shall we do then? Is human agency nothing? Grant that we +are driving down a stream,-can we use no effort? Is there +not a time when deeds, struggles, prayers, are of some +avail?-when the spirit, in its intense agony, with swollen +strength and surging tears, heaves against the catastrophe, +if yet, perchance, it may ward it off? Truly, there is such +a time, and the humblest disciple of Christ may weep as he +also wept. But let him also strive as Christ strove. Let +him not dash his grief in rebellious billows to the throne; +let not his groans arise in resentful murmurs; let the +remembrance of what God is and why he does, be with him, and +let the filial, reverent trust steal in,-"Not my will, but +thine be done." That reference to God, that obedience to +him, rising from the very depths of sorrow, and clung to +without faltering, is RESIGNATION. It shall bestow peace and +victory in the end. O! how different from that sullen +fatalism that lets things come as they will. To such a soul +things do come as they will, and it hardens under them,-they +do come as they will, but it sees not, cares not, why they +come. No thought goes up beyond the cloud to God,-no +strength is born that shall make life's trials lighter,-no +love and faith that will seek the Father's hand in the +darkest hour, and shed an enduring light over the thorny path +of affliction, and upon the bosom of the grave. Look at +these two. Outwardly, their calmness may be the same. Nay, +the one may evince emotion and tears, while the other shall +stand rigid in the hour of calamity, with a bitter smile, or +a frown of endurance. But in the one is strength, in the +other rigidity; in the one is power to triumph over sorrow, +in the other only nervous capacity to resist it. The one is +man hardened to indifference, sullen because of irreligion, +upon whom some sorrow will one day fall that will peel him to +the quick, and he will not know where to flee for healing. +The other is man contending against evil, yet not against +God,-man with all the tenderness and strength of his nature, +impressible yet unconquerable, walking with feet that bleed +among the wounding thorns, and a heart that shrinks from the +heavy woe, yet, all lacerated as he is, able to walk through, +because he holds by the hand of Omnipotence. The one is the +unbending tree, peeled by the lightning and stripped by the +North wind, lifting its gnarled head in sullen defiance to +the storm, which, when the storm does overcome it, shall be +broken. The other also is rooted in strength, and meets the +rushing blast with a lofty front. But as "it smiles in +sunshine, so it bends in storm," trustful and obedient, yet +firm and brave, and nothing shall overwhelm it. + +I trust I have succeeded in impressing upon you the +difference between Christian resignation and mere hardihood, +or indifference. Resignation is born of discipline, and +lives only in a truly religious soul. We have seen that it +is not incompatible with tenderness; nay, it is more +valuable, because it springs up in natures that have thus +suffered and wept. To see them become calm and pass with +unfaltering step through the valley of affliction, when, but +now, they shrunk from it, is a proof that God indeed has +strengthened them, and that they have had communion with him. +The unbeliever's stubbornness may endure to the end, but no +human power could inspire this sudden and triumphant +calmness. + +And even when the crisis is past, when the sorrow is sealed, +it is not rebellion to sigh and weep. Our Father has made us +so. He has opened the springs of love that well up within +us, and can we help mourning when they turn to tears and +blood? He has made very tender the ties that bind us to +happiness, and can we fail to shrink and suffer when they are +cut asunder? When we have labored long in the light of hope, +and lo! It goes out in darkness, and the blast of +disappointment rushes upon us, can we help being sad? Can +the mother prevent weeping when she kisses the lips of her +infant that shall prattle to her no more; when she presses +its tiny hand, so cold and still,-the little hand that has +rested upon her bosom and twined in her hair; and even when +it is so sweet and beautiful that she could strain it to her +heart forever, it is laid away in the envious concealment of +the grave? Can the wife, or the husband, help mourning, when +the partner and counsellor is gone,-when home is made very +desolate because the familiar voice sounds not there, and the +cast-off garment of the departed is strangely vacant, and the +familiar face has vanished, never more to return? Can the +child fail to lament, when the father, the mother,-the being +who nurtured him in infancy, who pillowed his head in +sickness, who prayed for him with tears on his sinful +wandering, who ever rejoiced in his joy and wept in his +sorrows,-can he fail to weep when that venerable form lies +all enshrouded, and the door closes upon it, and the +homestead is vacant, and the link that bound him to childhood +is in the grave? Say, can we check the gush of sorrow at any +of life's sharp trials and losses? No; nor are we forbidden +to weep, nor would we be human if we did not weep,-if, at +least, the spirit did not quiver when the keen scathing goes +over it. But how shall we weep? O! Thou, who didst suffer +in Gethsemane, thou hast taught us how. By thy sacred sorrow +and thy pious obedience thou has taught us; by thy great +agony and thy sublime victory thou has taught us. We must +refer all to God. We must earnestly, sincerely say, "Thy +will be done." Then our prayers will be the source of our +strength. Then our sorrowing will bring us comfort. "They +will be done;" repeat this, feel this, realize its meaning +and its relations, and you shall be able to say, with a +rooted calmness, "The cup which my Father hath given me, +shall I not drink it?" + +"The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink +it?" Who shall be able to say this as Jesus said it? They +who struggle as he struggled,-who obey as he obeyed,-who +trust as he trusted. There are those upon earth who have +been able to say it. It has made them stronger and happier. +There are those in heaven who have been able to say it. They +have gone up from earthly communions to the communion on +high. Do you not see them there, walking so serenely by the +still waters, with palms about their brows? Serenely-for in +their faces nothing is left of their conflict but its +triumph; nothing of their swollen agony but the massy +enduring strength it has imparted. They have ceased from +their trials, but first they learned how to endure them. +They submitted, but they were not overwhelmed. When sorrow +came, each pious soul struggled, but trusted; and so was able +to meet the last struggle,-was able to say as the shadow of +death fell upon it, "The cup which my Father hath given me, +shall I not drink it?" They were resigned. Behold-theirs is +the victory! + + + +The Mission of Little Children + + +"And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the +midst of them." Matthew xviii.2. + + +Everything has its mission. I speak not now of the office +which each part of the great universe discharges. I speak +not of the relation between these parts,--that beautiful +ordinance by which the whole is linked together in one common +life, by which the greatest is dependent upon the least, and +the least shares in the benefactions of the greatest. In +this sense, everything has, strictly, its mission. But I +speak of the influence, the instruction, which everything +has, or may have, for the soul of man. The flower, and the +star, the grass of the field, the outspread ocean, are full +of lessons; they perform a mission to our spiritual nature, +if we will receive it. We may pass them by as simply +material forms, the decorations or conveniencies(sic) of this +our natural life. But if we will come to them in a religious +spirit, and study all their meaning, they will be to us +ministers of God, impressive and eloquent as human lips, and +filled with truths instructive as any that man can utter. + +Jesus illustrated his teachings by these objects. He made +everything that was at hand perform a mission for the human +soul. The lilies of the field were clothed with spiritual +suggestion, and the fowls of the air, as they flew through +the trackless firmament, bore a lesson of truth and +consolation. As if to show that there is nothing, however +small, that is insignificant, and that has not its mission, +he selected the falling sparrow to be a minister of wisdom, +and dignified the wayside well as a clear and living oracle +of the divinest truth. + +In the instance before us, the object selected was a little +child. In reply to the question, "Who is the greatest in the +kingdom of heaven?" Jesus set this little one in the midst of +his disciples and said, "Verily I say unto you, except ye be +converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter +into the kingdom of heaven." Thus did he rebuke their +sensuous ideas of greatness by a spiritual truth, and make a +little child the teacher of profound and beautiful wisdom. I +do not propose, however, at this time, to dwell upon the +precise doctrines which Christ taught in the instance, but +having, as it were, the little child set in our midst, to +draw from it further lessons that may do us good. In one +word, I propose to speak of the mission of little children. + +In using this term "mission," I wish to have no obscurity +about my meaning. I refer, by it, to the influence which +little children may exert upon us,--to the effects which they +may produce,--rather than to any direct object which they can +have in view, or for which they set themselves to work. They +may be unconscious missionaries; indeed, to a great extent, +they are so. But so are the lilies of the field and the +birds of the air. Yet if we believe that God is the ordainer +of all wisdom and of all good, that he uses an object or +event in numberless ways, and makes it the unconscious +instrument of many of his plans, then we may say that +children are sent by him for the express purpose of producing +these effects, and in that sense have a mission. + +I pass to consider some of the modes in which that mission is +accomplished. + +I. Little children give us a sincere and affectionate +manifestation of human nature. I know that even a child will +soon become artful, and imbibe the spirit of dealing and of +policy. But in a strongly comparative sense, the child is +artless. The thoughts of the heart leap spontaneously from +the lips. The bubbling impulse is closely followed by the +action. Its desire, its aversion, its love, its curiosity, +are expressed without modification. The broken prattle, +those half-pronounced words, are uttered with clear, ringing +tones of sincerity. There is no coil of deceit about the +heart. There are no secrets chambered in the brain. The +countenance has put on no disguise. There is no manoeuvring +with lips or actions, no suspicion or plotting in the eyes. +It is simple human nature fresh from the hands of God, with +all its young springs in motion, trying themselves in their +simplicity and their newness. The eyes open upon the world, +not with speculation, but with wonder. To them, the ancient +hills and the morning stars are just created, new phenomena +burst upon them every moment, and nature in a thousand +channels pours itself into the young soul. And how soon it +learns the meaning of a mother's smile, and the protection of +a father's hand! How soon the fountains of affection are +unsealed and the mystery of human love takes possession of +the hear! But the tides of that love are controlled by no +calculation, are fettered by no proprieties, but flow +artlessly and freely. + +Humanity soon runs into deceit, and the sincerest man wears a +mask. We cannot trust our most familiar friends, to the +whole extent. We all retain something in our inmost hearts +that nobody knows but we and God. The world bids us be +shrewd and politic. We walk in a mart of selfishness. Eyes +stare upon us, and we are afraid of them. We meet as +traders, as partisans, as citizens, as worshippers, as +friends-brothers, if you will-but we must not express all we +think, we must school ourselves in some respects,--must adopt +some conventionalities. There is some degree of isolation +between ourselves and every other one. But from the world's +strife and sordidness, its wearisome forms and cold +suspicions, we may turn to the sanctity of home, and if we +have a child there, we shall find affection without alloy, a +welcome that leaps from the heart in sunshine to the face, +and speaks right from the soul;--a companion who is not +afraid or ashamed of us, who makes no calculation about our +friendship, who has faith in it, and requires of us perfect +faith in return, and whose sincerity rebukes our worldliness, +and makes us wonder at the world. And if all this makes us +better and happier, if it keeps our hearts from hardness and +attrition, if it begets in us something of the same +sincerity, and hallows us with something of the same +affection, if it softens and purifies us at all, then do not +children, in this respect perform a mission for us? + +And shall we not learn from them more confidence in human +nature, seeing that "the child is father to the man," and +that much that seems cold and hard in men may conceal the +remains of childhood's better feeling? And, also, shall it +not make us deplore and guard against those influences which +can change the sincere and loving child into the deceitful +and selfish man-that cover the spring of genuine feeling with +the thick rime of worldliness, and petrify the tender chords +of the heart into rough, unfeeling sinews? The man should +not be, in all respects, as the child. The child cannot have +the glory of the man. If it is not polluted by his vices, it +is not ennobled by his virtues. But in so much as the child +awakens in us tenderness, and teaches us sincerity, and +counteracts our coarser and harder tendencies, and cheers us +in our isolation from human hearts, by binding us close with +a warm affection, and sheds ever around our path the mirrored +sunshine of our youth and our simplicity, in so much the +child accomplishes for us a blessed mission. + +II. Children teach us faith and confidence. Man soon +becomes proud with reason, and impatient of restraint. +He thinks he knows, or ought to know, the whole mystery +of the universe. It is not easy for him to take +anything upon trust, or to lie low in the hand of God. +But the child is full of faith. He is not old enough to +speculate, and the things he sees are to him so strange +and wonderful that he can easily believe in "the things +that are unseen." He propounds many questions, but +entertains no doubts as to God and heaven. And what +confidence has he in his father's government and his +mother's providence! + +I do not say, here, that a man's faith should be as a child's +faith. Man must examine and reason, contend with doubt, and +wander through mystery. But I would have him cherish the +feeling that he too is a child, the denizen of a Father's +house, and have sufficient confidence in that Father to trust +his goodness; and to remember, if things look perplexed and +discordant to him, that his vision is but a child's vision-he +cannot see all. Indeed, there is a beautiful analogy between +a child in its father's house and man in the universe, and +much there is in the filial sentiment that belongs to both +conditions. Beautifully has it been shown by a recent writer +how the natural operation of this sentiment in the child's +heart, and in the sphere of home, stands somewhat in the +place of that religion which man needs in his maturer +conditions. "God has given it, in its very lot," says he, "a +religion of its own, the sufficiency of which it were impiety +to doubt. The child's veneration can scarcely climb to any +loftier height than the soul of a wise and good parent...How +can there be for him diviner truth than his father's +knowledge, a more wonderous world than his father's +experience, a better providence than his mother's vigilance, +a securer fidelity than in their united promise? Encompassed +round by these, he rests as in the embrace of the only +omniscience he can comprehend." (Martineau) + +But O! my friends, when our childhood has passed by, and we +go out to drink the mingled cup of life, and cares come +crowding upon us, and hopes are crushed, and doubts wrestle +with us, and sorrow burdens our spirits, then we need a +deeper faith, and look up for a stronger Father. A kind word +will not stifle our grief then. We cannot go to sleep upon +our mother's arms, and forget it all. There is no charm to +hold our spirits within the walls of this home, the earth. +Our thoughts crave more than this. Our souls reach out over +the grave, and cry for something after! No bauble will +assuage this bitterness. It is spiritual and stern, and we +must have a word from heaven-a promise from one who is able +to fulfill. We look around us, and find that Father, and his +vary nature contains the promise that we need. And as the +child in his ignorance has faith, not because he can +demonstrate, but because it is his father, so let us, in our +ignorance, feel that in this great universe of many mansions, +of solemn mysteries, of homes beyond the earth, of +relationships that reach through eternity, of plans only a +portion of which is seen here; so let us look up as to a +Father's fare, take hold of his hand, go in and out and lie +down securely in his presence, and cherish faith. If +children only teach us to do this, how beautiful and how +great is their mission! + +III. Children waken in us new and powerful affections. +Nobody but a parent can realize what these affections +are, can tell what a fountain of emotion the newborn +child unseals, what chords of strange love are drawn out +from the heart, that before lay there concealed. One +may have all powers of intellect, a refined moral +culture, a noble and wide-reaching philanthropy, and yet +a child born to him shall awaken within him a depth of +tenderness, a sentiment of love, a yearning affection, +that shall surprise him as to the capacity and the +mystery of his nature. + +And the relation of a mother to her child; what other is like +it? Without it, how undeveloped is the great element of +affection, how small a horn of its orb is filled and lighted! +What was she until that new love woke up within her, and her +heart and soul thrilled with it, and first truly lived in it? +Of all the degrees of human love, how amply is this the +highest! In all the depths of human love, how surely is this +the nethermost! When illustrations fail us, how confidently +do we seize upon this! The mother nurturing her child in +tenderness, watching over it with untiring love! O! that is +affection stronger than any of this earth. It has a power, a +beauty, a holiness like no other sentiment. When that child +has grown to maturity, and has gone out from her in +profligacy and in scorn; when the world has denounced him, +and justice sets its price upon his head, and lovers and +companions fall off from him in utter loathing-we do not ask, +we know, there is one heart that cannot reject him. No sin +of his can paralyze the chord that vibrates there for him. +No alienation can cancel the affection that was born at his +birth, that pillowed him in his infancy, centred in him its +life, clasped him with its strength, and shed upon him its +blessings, its hopes, and its prayers. + +And no one feels the death of a child as a mother feels it. Even +the father cannot realize it thus. There is a vacancy in his +home, and a heaviness in his heart. There is a chain of +association that at set times comes round with its broken link; +there are memories of endearment, a keen sense of loss, a weeping +over crushed hopes, and a pain of wounded affliction. But the +mother feels that one has been taken away who was still closer to +her heart. Hers has been the office of constant ministration. +Every gradation of feature has developed before her eyes. She +has detected every new gleam of intelligence. She heard the +first utterance of every new word. She has been the refuge of +his fears; the supply of his wants. And every task of affection +has woven a new link, and made dear to her its object. And when +he dies, a portion of her own life, as it were, dies. How can +she give him up, with all these memories, these associations? +The timid hands that have so often taken hers in trust and love, +how can she fold them on his breast, and surrender them to the +cold clasp of death? The feet whose wanderings she has watched +so narrowly, how can she see them straitened to go down into the +dark valley? The head that she has pressed to her lips and her +bosom, that she has watched in burning sickness and in peaceful +slumber, a hair of which she could not see harmed, O! how can she +consign it to the chamber of the grave? The form that not for +one night has been beyond her vision or her knowledge, how can +she put it away for the long night of the sepulchre, to see it no +more? Man has cares and toils that draw away his thoughts and +employ them; she sits in loneliness, and all these memories, all +these suggestions, crowd upon her. How can she bear all this? +She could not, were it not that her faith is as her affection; +and if the one is more deep and tender than in man, the other is +more simple and spontaneous, and takes confidently hold of the +hand of God. + +Thus, then, do children awaken within us deep and mighty +affections; and is it not their mission to do so? Do we not see +many beautiful offices created and discharged by these +affections--tender and far-reaching relationships into which they +run? Do we not see how they win the heart from frivolity and +selfishness, and make it aware of duties, and quick with +sympathies? I shall not enter into detailed considerations of +the results of this affection thus awakened in us by children. A +little reflection will render them obvious to you. Let me simply +say, that in awakening these affections children discharge an +important and beautiful mission. + +IV. I might speak of other offices discharged by little +children; of the influence upon us of their purity and their +innocence; their importance in the social state; of the benefits +conferred upon us by the very duties which we exercise toward +them. But merely suggesting these, I will speak at this time of +but one more mission which they perform for us. and this, my +friends, is performed through sadness and through tears. The +little child performs it by its death. It has been with us a +little while. We have enjoyed its bright and innocent +companionship by the dusty highway of life, in the midst of its +toils, its cares, and its sin. It has been a gleam of sunshine +and a voice of perpetual gladness in our homes. We have learned +from it blessed lessons of simplicity, sincerity, purity, faith. +It has unsealed within us this gushing, never-ebbing tide of +affection. Suddenly, it is taken away. We miss the gleam of +sunshine. We miss the voice of gladness. Our homes are dark and +silent. We ask, "Shall it not come again?" And the answer breaks +upon us through the cold gray silence, "Nevermore!" We say to +ourselves again and again, "Can it be possible?" "Do we not +dream?" "Will not that life and affection return to us?" +"Nevermore!" O! nevermore! The heart is like an empty mansion, +and that word goes echoing through its desolate chambers. We are +stricken and afflicted. But must this, should this, be always +and only so? Are we not looking merely at the earthly aspect of +the event? Has it not a spiritual phase for us? Nay, do we not +begin to consider how through our temporal affection an eternal +good is wrought out for us? Do we begin to realize that in our +souls we have derived profit from it already? Do we not begin to +learn that life is not a holiday or a workday only, but a +discipline,--that God conducts that discipline in infinite wisdom +and benevolence,--mingles the draught, and, when he sees fit, +infuses bitterness? Not that constant sweet would not please us +better, but that our discipline, which is of more importance than +our indulgence, will be more effectual thereby. This is often +talked about; I ask, do not we who are called upon to mourn the +loss of children realize it,--actually realize that that loss is +for our spiritual gain? If we do not, we are merely looking upon +the earthly phase of our loss. If we do not realize this +spiritual good, we may. + +Yes, in death the little child has a mission for us. Through +that very departure he accomplishes for us, perhaps, what he +could not accomplish by his life. These affections which he has +awakened, we have considered how strong they are. They are +stronger, are they not, than any attachment to mere things of +this earth? But that child has gone from us,--gone into the +unseen, the spiritual world. What then? Do our affections sink +back into our hearts,--become absorbed and forgotten? O, no! +They reach out after that little one; they follow him into the +unseen and spiritual world,--thus is it made a great and vivid +reality to us,--perhaps for the first time. We have talked of +it, we have believed in it; but now that our dead have gone into +it, we have, as it were, entered it ourselves. Its atmosphere is +around us, chords of affection draw us toward it, the faces of +our departed ones look out from it--and it is a reality. And is +it not worth something to make it such a reality? + +We are wedded to this world. It is beautiful, it is attractive, +it is real. Immortality is a pleasant thought. The spiritual +land is an object of faith. But the separation between this and +that is cold to think of, and hard to bear. It needs something +stronger than this earth to draw us toward that spiritual world; +to break some of the thousand tendrils that bind us here. My +friends, though many powerful appeals, many solid arguments, +cannot break our affections from this earth, the hand of a +departed child can do it. The voice that calls us to unseen +realities, that bids us prepare for the heavenly land, that says +from heights of spiritual bliss and purity, "Come up +hither;"--that voice that we loved so on earth, and gladly can we +rise and follow it. + +Behold, then, what a little child can perform for us through its +death! It makes real and attractive to us that spiritual world +to which it has gone, and calls our affections from earth to that +true life which is the great end of our being, which is the +object of all our discipline, our mingled joy and suffering, here +upon this earth. That little child, gone from its sufferings of +early,--gone + +"Gentle and undefiled, with blessings on its head,"-- + +has it indeed become a very angel of God for us, and is it +calling us to a more spiritual life, and does it win us to +heaven? Is its memory around us like a pure presence into which +no thought of sin can readily enter? Or is it with us, even yet, +a spiritual companion of our ways? From being the guarded and +the guided, has it risen in infant innocence, yet in the +knowledge and majesty of the immortal life, to be the guard and +the guide? Does it, indeed, make our hearts softer and purer, +and cause us to think more of duty, and live more holy, thus +clothing ourselves to go and dwell with it? Does it, by its +death, accomplish all this? O! most important, most glorious +mission of all, if we only heed it, if we only accept it. Then +shall we behold already the wisdom and benevolence of our Father +breaking through the cloud that overshadows us. Already shall we +see that the tie, which seemed to be dropped and broken, God has +taken up to draw us closer to himself, and that it is interwoven +with his all-gracious plan for our spiritual profit and +perfection. And we can anticipate how it will all be reconciled, +when his own hand shall wipe away our tears, and the bliss of +reunion shall extract the last drop of bitterness from "the cup +that our Father had given us." + + + +Our Relations to the Departed + + +"She is not dead, but sleepeth." Luke viii.52 + +A Great peculiarity of the Christian religion is its transforming +or transmuting power. I speak not now of the regeneration which +accomplishes in the individual soul, but of the change it works +upon things without. It applies the touchstone to every fact of +existence, and exposes its real value. Looking through the lens +of spiritual observation, it throws the realities of life into a +reverse perspective from that which is seen by the sensual eye. +Objects which the world calls great it renders insignificant, and +makes near and prominent things which the frivolous put off. +Thus the Christian, among other men, often appears anomalous. +Often, amidst the congratulations of the world, he detects reason +for mourning, and is penetrated with sorrow. On the contrary, +where others shrink, he walks undaunted, and converts the scene +of dread and suffering into an ante-chamber of heaven. In this +light, the Apostle Paul speaks of himself and others, "As +sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; +as having nothing, and yet possessing all things." Indeed, all +the beatitudes are based upon this peculiarity; for the true +blessing, the inward, everlasting riches, are for those who, in +the world's eye, are poor, and mourning, and persecuted. Jesus +himself weeps amid triumphant psalms and sounding hosannas, while +on the cross he utters the prayer of forgiveness, and the +ejaculation of peace. + +No wonder, then, that the believer views the ghastliest fact of +all in a consoling and even a beautiful aspect; and death itself +becomes but sleep. Well was that trait of our religion which I +have now suggested illustrated at the bed-side of Jairus' +daughter. Well did that noisy, lamenting group represent the +worldly who read only the material fact, or that flippant +skepticism which laughs all supernatural truth to scorn. And +well did Jesus represent the spirit of his doctrine, and its +transforming power, when he exclaimed, "She is not dead, but +sleepeth." + +Yes! beautifully has Christianity transformed death. To the eye +of flesh it was the final direction of our fate,--the consummate +riddle in this mystery of being,--the wreck of all our hopes,-- + +"The simple senses crowned his head, + Omega! thou art Lord, they said; + We find no motion in the dead." + +Ever, though with higher desires and better gleamings, the mind +has struggled and sunk before this fact of decay, and this awful +silence of nature; while in the waning light of the soul, and +among the ashes of the sepulchre, skepticism has built its dreary +negation. And though the mother could lay down her child without +taking hints which God gave her from every little flower that +sprung on that grassy bed,--though the unexhausted intellect has +reasoned that we ought to live again, and the affections, more +oracular, swelling with the nature of their great source, have +prophesied that we shall,--never, until the revelation of Christ +descended into our souls, and illuminated all our spiritual +vision, have we been able to say certainly of death, it is a +sleep. This has made its outward semblance not that of +cessation, but of progression--not an end, but a +change--converting its rocky couch to a birth-chamber, +over-casting its shadows with beams of eternal morning, while +behind its cold unconsciousness the unseen spirit broods into +higher life. "He fell asleep," says the sacred chronicler, +speaking of bloody Stephen. "Our friend Lazarus sleepeth," said +Christ to his disciples; and yet again, as here in the text, the +beautiful synonyme is repeated, "She is not dead, but sleepeth." + +But I proceed to remark, if the Christian religion thus +transforms death, or, in other words, abolishes the idea of its +being annihilation, or an end, then it gives us a new view of our +relations to the departed. What are these relations? The +answers to this question will form the burden of the present +discourse. + +I. There is the relation of memory. It is true, we may argue +that this relation exists whether the Christian view of death be +correct or not;--so long have those who are now gone actually +lived with us,--so vivid are their images among the realities of +the soul,--though the grave should forever shut them from our +communion. But this relation of memory has peculiar propriety +and efficacy when associated with a Christian faith. If the dead +live no more, what would memory be to us but a spectre and a +sting? Should we not then seek to repress those tender +recollections,--to close our eyes to those pale, sad visions of +departed love? Should we not invoke the glare and tumult of the +world to distract or absorb our thoughts? Would we not say, "Let +it come, the pleasure, the occupation of the hour, that we may +think no more of the dead, plucked from us forever,--let us drive +thoughtlessly down this swift current of life, since thought only +harrows us,--let us drive thoughtlessly down, enjoying all we +can, until we too lie by the side of those departed ones, like +them to moulder in everlasting unconsciousness." I don not say +that this would always be the case without religious hope, but it +is a very natural condition of the feelings in such +circumstances,--it is the most humane alternative that would then +be left. At least, no one so well as the Christian can go into +the inner chambers of memory, feel the strength of its sad yet +blissful associations, and calmly invoke the communion of the +dead. + +I speak not now of what occurs in those first bitter days of +grief, when the heart's wound bleeds afresh at every touch,--when +we are continually surprised by the bleak fact that the loved one +is actually dead. But I speak of those after seasons, those +Indian summers of the soul, in which all the present desolation +is blended with the bloom and enjoyment of the past. Then do we +find that the tie which binds us so tenderly to the departed is a +strong and fruitful one. We love, in those still retired +seasons, to call up the images of the dead, to let them hover +around us, as real, for the hour, as any living forms. We linger +in that communion, with a pleasing melancholy. We call up all +that was lovely in their character, all that was delightful in +their earthly intercourse. They live again for us, and we for +them. + +In this relation of memory, moreover, we realize the fact, that +while the departed were upon earth we enjoyed much with them. +This is a truth which in any estimate of our loss we should not +overlook. do we mourn that the dead have been taken from us so +soon? Are we not also thankful that they were ours so long? In +our grief over unfulfilled expectation, do we cherish no +gratitude for actual good? So much bliss has God mingled in our +cup of existence that the might have withheld. He lent it to us +thus far; why complain, rather, that he did not intrust us with +it longer? O! these fond recollections, this concentrated +happiness of past hours which we call up with tears, remind us +that so much good we have actually experienced. + +In close connection with this thought is the fact, that, by some +delicate process of refinement, we remember of the dead only what +was good. In the relation of memory we see them in their best +manifestation, we live over the hours of our past intercourse. +Though in extraordinary instances it may be true that "the evil +which men do lives after them," yet even in regard to the +illustrious dead, their imperfections are overlooked, and more +justice is done to their virtues than in their own time. Much +more is this the case with those around whom our affections cling +more closely. The communion of memory, far more than that of +life, is unalloyed by sharp interruptions, or by any stain. That +communion now, though saddened, is tender, and without reproach. + +And even if we remember that while they lived our relations with +them were all beautiful, shall we not believe that when they were +taken away their earthly mission for us was fulfilled? Was not +their departure as essential a work of the divine beneficence as +their bestowal? Who knows but if they had overstayed the +appointed hour, our relations with them might have changed?--some +new element of discontent and unhappiness been introduced, which +would have entirely altered the character of our recollections? +At least, to repeat what I have just suggested, what Christian +doubts that their taking away--this change from living communion +to the communion of memory--was for an end as wise and kind as +were all the love and intercourse so long vouchsafed to us? + +Vital, the, for the Christian, is this relation which we have +with the dead by memory. We linger upon it, and find in it a +strange and sweet attraction. and is not much of this because, +though we may be unconscious of it, the current of faith +subtilely intermingles with our grief, and gives its tone to our +communion? We cannot consider the departed as lost to us +forever. The suggestion of rupture holds a latent suggestion of +reunion. The hues of memory are colored by the reflection of +hope. Religion transforms the condition of the departed for us, +and we consider them not as dead, but sleeping. + +II. There is another relation which we have with the dead,--the +relation of spiritual existence. We live with them, not only by +communion with the past, by images of memory, but by that fine, +mysterious bond which links us to all souls, and in which we +live with them now and forever. The faith that has converted +death into a sleep has also transformed the whole idea of life. +If the one is but a halt in the eternal march,--a slumbrous rest +preceeding a new morning,--the other is but the flow of one +continuous stream, mated awhile with the flesh, but far more +intimately connected with all intelligences in the universe of +God. What are the conditions of our communion with the +living--those with whom we come in material contact? The eye, +the lip, the hand, are but symbols, interpretations;--behind +these it is only spirit that communes with spirit, even in the +market or the street. But not to enter into so subtle a +discussion, of what kind are some of the best communions which we +have on earth? We take up some wise and virtuous book, and enter +into the author's mind. Seas separate us from him,--he knows us +not; he never hears our names. But have we not a close relation +to him? Is there not a strong bond of spiritual communion +between us? Nay, may not the intercourse we thus have with him +be better and truer than any which we could have from actual +contact,--from local acquaintance? Then, some icy barrier of +etiquette might separate us,--some coldness of temperament upon +his part,--some spleen or disease; we might be shocked by some +temporary deformity; some little imperfection might betray +itself. But here, in his book, which we read three thousand +miles away from him, we receive his noblest thoughts,--his best +spiritual revelations; and we know him, and commune with him most +intimately, not through local but through spiritual affinities. + +And how pleasing is the though that not even death interrupts +this relation. Years, as well as miles--ages may separate us +from the great and good man; but we hold with him still that +living communion of the spirit. Our best life may flow to us +from this communion. Some of our richest spiritual treasures +have been deposited in this intercourse of thought. Some of our +noblest hopes and resolutions have been animated by those whose +lips have long since been sealed,--whose very monuments have +crumbled. + +A dear friend goes away from us to a foreign land. We watch the +receeding sail, and feel that that is a bond between us, until it +fades away in the far blue horizon. Then it is a consolation to +walk by the shore of that sea, and to realize that the same +waters lave the other shore, where he dwells,--to watch some +star, and know that at such an hour his eye and thought are also +directed to it. Thus the soul will not entertain the idea of +absolute separation, but makes all those material objects agents +for its affinities. But how much nearer does that absent one +come to us, when we know that at such an hour we both are +kneeling in prayer, and that our spirits meet, as it were, around +the footstool of God! + +Thus we see that even in life there are spiritual relations which +bind us to our fellows, and that often these are dearer and +stronger than those of local contact. Why should we suppose that +death cuts off all such affinities? It does not cut them off. +It only removes the loved from our converse and our sight; but +if, when absent in some distant land of this earth, we are +conscious of still holding relations to them, do we not retain +the same though they have vanished into that mysterious and +unseen land which lies beyond the grave? "She is not dead, but +sleepeth." Christianity has taught us to look away from the +ghastly secrets of the sepulchre, and not consider that changing +clay as the friend we mourn, but as only the cast-off and +mouldering garment. It has kindled within us a lively +appreciation of the continued existence of those who have gone +from us; taught us to feel that the thoughts, the love, the real +life of the departed, all, in fact, that communed with us here +below, still lives and acts. And our relations to them are +relations which we bear, not to abstractions of memory, to +phantoms of by-gone joy, but to spiritual intelligences, whose +current of being flows on uninterrupted, with whose current of +being our own mingles. I know not how it is with others, but to +me there is inexpressible consolation in this thought. + +But I would suggest that, as spiritual beings, we bear even a +closer relation to the departed. I said that Christianity has +transformed the whole idea of life. It has shown that we are +essentially spirits, and that our highest relations are +spiritual. If so, it seems an arrogant assumption to deny that +any intercourse may exist between ourselves and the spiritual +world. Possessing as we do this mysterious nature, throbbing +with the attraction of the eternal sphere, who shall say that it +touches no spiritual confines,--that it has communion only with +the beings that we see? It is a dull atheism which repudiates +all such intimations as superstitious or absurd. To speak more +distinctly, I allude to the consoling thought which springs up +almost intuitively, that the departed may, at times, see us, and +be present with us, though we do not recognize them. For wise +and good reasons, our senses may so constrain us that we cannot +perceive these spiritual beings. But the same reasons do not +exist to shut them from beholding and visiting us. The most +essential idea of the immortal state is that it yields certain +prerogatives which we cannot possess in our mortal condition. +may it not be, therefore, that while it is our lot to be +restricted to sensuous vision, and to behold only material forms, +it is their privilege, having received the spiritual sight, to +see both spiritual and material things? + +Nor need we imagine that immortality implies distance from +us,--that change of state requires any great change of place. +Looking through this earthly glass, we see but darkly; but when +death shatters it we may behold close around us the friends we +have loved, and find their spiritual peculiarity is not +incompatible with such near residence. The homes of departed +spirits may be all around us,--these spirits themselves may be +ever hovering near, unseen in our blindness of the senses. At +all events, we deem it one of the grand distinctions of spirit +that it is not confined to one region of space, but may pass, +quick as its own intelligence, from sphere to sphere. And while +I would rebuke rash speculation, I would also rebuke the cold +materialism which unhesitatingly rejects an idea like this which +I have now suggested. + +I maintain, moreover, that such speculation is not all idle. It +serves to quicken within us the thought of how near the dead may +be to us, to purify that thought, and to breathe upon our fevered +hearts a consoling hope. And when I combine its intrinsic +reasonableness with the spirit and spiritualism of Christianity, +and that intuitive suggestion which springs up in so many souls, +I can urge but faint objection to those who entertain it, and +would, if possible, share and diffuse the comfort which it gives. +Nearer, than, than we imagine--close as in mortal contact, and +more intimately--may be those whom we, with earthly vision behold +no more; visiting us in hours of loneliness, and affording unseen +companionship; watching us in the stillness of slumber, and +reflecting themselves in our dreams. + +But, whether we indulge this notion or not, let us realize the +relation which we have with the departed by the ties of mutual +spirituality. Let us not coldly restrict or weaken this +relation. If the material world is full of inexplicable +things,--if we cannot explain the secret affinities of the star +and the flower,--let us feel how full of mystery and how full of +promise is this spiritual universe of which we are parts, and +whose conditions we so little know. Let us cherish that +transcendent faith, that quick, spiritual sympathy, which says of +the departed, "They are not dead, but sleeping." + +III. Finally, we have with the dead the relation of discipline. +Though we should see them only in the abstractions of +memory,--though it should be true that they have no spiritual +intercourse with us,--yet their agency in our behalf has not +ceased. They still accomplish a work for us. That work is in +the moral efficacy of bereavement and sorrow. In their going +away they lead our thoughts out beyond the limits of the world. +They quicken us to an interest in the spiritual land. as one who +looks upon a map, and listlessly reads the name of some foreign +shore, so, often, do we open this blessed revelation not heeding +its recital of the immortal state. But as, when some friend goes +to that distant coast, that spot on the map becomes, of all +places, most vivid and prominent, so when our loved ones die, the +spiritual country largely occupies our thoughts and attracts our +affections. They depart that we may be weaned from earth. They +ascend that we may "look steadfastly towards heaven." If this is +not our everlasting home, why should they all remain here to +cheat us with that thought? If we must seek a better country, +should there not be premonitions for us, breaking up, and +farewells, and the hurried departure of friends who are ready +before us? I need not dwell on this suggestion. We are too much +of the earth, earthy, and bound up in sensual interests. It is +often needful that some shock of disappointment should shake our +idea of terrestrial stability--should awake us to a sense of our +spiritual relations--should strike open some chasm in this dead, +material wall, and let in the light of the unlimited and immortal +state to which we go. We need the discipline of bereavement in +temporal things, to win us to things eternal. And so, in their +departure, the loved accomplish for us a blessed and spiritual +result, and instead of being wholly lost to us, become bound to +us by a new and vital relation. + +But these loved ones depart, no merely to bind our affections to +another state, but to fit us better for the obligations of this. +Perhaps, in the indulgence of full communion, in the liquid ease +of prosperity, we have scantily discharged our social duties. We +have not appreciated love, because we have never felt its +absence. We have shocked the tenderest ties, because we were +ignorant of their tenderness. We have withheld good offices, +because we knew not how rare is the opportunity to fulfil them. +But when one whom we love passes away, then, realizing a great +loss, we learn how vital was that relation, how inestimable the +privilege which is withdrawn forever. How quick then is our +regret for every harsh word which we have spoken to the departed, +or for any momentary alienation which we have indulged! This, +however, should not reduce us to a morbid sensitiveness, or an +unavailing sorrow, seeing that it is blended with so many +pleasant memories; but it should teach us our duty to the living. +It should make our affections more diligent and dutiful. It +should check our hasty words, and assuage our passions. It +should cause us, day and night, to meet in kindness and part in +peace. Our social ties are golden links of uncertain tenure, +and, one by one, they drop away. Let us cherish a more constant +love for those who make up our family circle, for "not long may +we stay." The allotments of duty, perhaps, will soon distribute +us into different spheres of action; our lines, which now fall +together in a pleasant place, will be wide apart as the zones, or +death will cast his shadow upon these familiar faces, and +interrupt our long communion. Let us, indeed, preserve this +temper with all men--those who meet us in the street, in the +mart, in the most casual or selfish concerns of life. We cannot +remain together a great while, at the longest. Let us meet, +then, with kindness, that when we part no pang may remain. Let +not a single day bear witness to the neglect or violation of any +duty which shall lie hard in the heart when it is excited to +tender and solemn recollections. Let only good-will beam from +faces that so soon shall be changed. Let no root of bitterness +spring up in one man's bosom against another, when, ere long, +nature will plant flowers upon their common grave. "Let not the +sun go down upon our wrath," when his morning beams may search +our accustomed places for one or both of us, in vain. + +Thus, if the dead teach us to regard more dutifully the living, +they will accomplish for us a most beautiful discipline. Their +departure may also serve another end. It may teach us the great +lessons of patience and resignation. We have been surrounded by +many blessings, and yet perhaps, have indulged in fretfulness. A +slight loss has irritated us. We have chafed at ordinary +disappointments, at little interruptions in the current of our +prosperity. We have been in the habit of murmuring. And now +this great grief has overtaken us, that we may see at what little +things we have complained,--that we may learn that there is a +meaning in trouble which should make us calm,--that we had no +right to these gifts, the privation of which has offended us, but +that all have flowed from that mercy which we have slightly +acknowledged, and peevishly accused. This great sorrow has +stricken us, piercing through bone and marrow, in order to reach +our hearts, and touch the springs of spiritual life within us, +that henceforth, we may look upon all sorrow in a new light. +Little troubles have only disturbed the surface of our nature, +making it uneasy, and tossing it into fretful eddies; this heavy +calamity, like a mighty wind, has plunged into the very depths, +and turned up the foundations, leaving us, at length, purified +and serene. I believe we shall find it to be the general +testimony that those who have the least trouble are the loudest +complainers; while, often, the souls that have been fairly swept +and winnowed by sorrow are the most patient and Christ-like. The +pressure of their woe has broken down all ordinary reliances, and +driven them directly to God, where they rest in sweet submission +and in calm assurance. Such is the discipline which may be +wrought out for us by the departure of those we love. Such, and +other spiritual results, their vanishing may secure for us, which +we never could have gained by their presence; and so it may be +said by some departing friend,--some one most dear to our +hearts,--in a reverent sense, as the Master said to his +disciples, "It is expedient for you that I go away; for if I go +not away the Comforter will not come unto you." + +As I have already touched upon the region of speculation, I +hardly dare drop a hint which belongs here, though it grows out +of a remark made under the last head. But I will say that it is +not unreasonable to suppose that the departed may perform a more +close and personal agency than this which I have just dwelt upon. +Often, it may be, they are permitted messengers for our welfare; +guardians, whose invisible wings shield us; teachers, whose +unfelt instructions mysteriously sway us. The child may thus +discharge an office of more than filial love for the bereaved +parents. The mother may watch and minister to her child. The +father, by unseen influences, win to virtue the heart of his poor +prodigal. But whether this be so or not, certain are we that the +departed do discharge such an agency, if not by spiritual contact +with us, or direct labor in our behalf, by the chastening +influence that their memory sheds upon us, by uplifting our +thoughts, by spiritualizing our affections, by drawing our souls +to communion with things celestial and with God. + +Let us see to it, then, that we improve this discipline; that we +quench not the holy aspiration which springs up in our sorrow; +that we neglect not the opportunity when our hearts are softened; +that we continue the prayer which first escaped our lips as a +sigh and a call of distress; that the baptism of tears lets us +into the new life of reconciliation, and love, and holiness. +Otherwise, the discipline is of no avail, and, it may be, we +harden under it. + +And, finally, let me say, that the faith by which we regard our +relations to the departed in the light that has been exhibited in +this discourse, is a faith that must be assimilated with our +entire spiritual nature. It must be illustrated in our daily +conduct, and sanctify every thought and motive of our hearts. We +should not seek religion merely for its consolations, and take it +up as an occasional remedy. In this way religion is injured. It +is associated only with sorrow, and clothed, to the eyes of men, +in perpetual sadness. It is sought as the last resort, the +heart's extreme unction, when it has tried the world's nostrums +in vain. It is dissociated from things healthy and active,--from +all ordinary experiences,--from the great whole of life. It is +consigned to the darkened chamber of mourning, and the weary and +disappointed spirit. Besides, to seek religion only in +sorrow,--to fly to it as the last refuge,--argues an extreme +selfishness. We have served the world and our own wills, we have +lived the life of the senses, and obeyed the dictates of our +passions so long as they could satisfy us, and now we turn to God +because we find that he only can avail us! We seek religion for +the good it can do us, not for the service we can render God. We +lay hold of it selfishly, as something instituted merely for our +help, and lavish our demands upon it for consolation, turning +away sullen and skeptical, it may be, if these demands are not +immediately answered. Many come to religion for consolation who +never apply to it for instruction, for sanctification, for +obedience. Let us learn that we can claim its privileges only by +performing its duties. We can see with the eye of its clear, +consoling faith, only when it has spiritualized our entire being, +and been developed in our daily conduct. Affliction may open +religious ideas in the soul, but only by the soul's discipline +will those ideas expand until they become our most intimate life, +and we habitually enjoy celestial companionship, and that +supersensual vision of faith by which we learn our relations to +the departed. + +That faith let us receive and cherish. If we live it we shall +believe it. No sophistry can steal it from us, no calamity make +us surrender it. But the keener the trial the closer will be our +confidence. Standing by the open sepulchre in which we see our +friends, "not dead, but sleeping," we shall say to insidious +skepticism and gloomy doubt, in the earnest words of the poet, + +"O! steal not thou my faith away, + Nor tempt to doubt a lowly mind. +Make all that earth can yield thy prey, + But leave this heavenly gift behind. +Our hope is but the seaboy's dream, + When loud winds rise in wrath and gloom; +Our life, a faint and fitful beam, + That lights us to the cold, dark tomb; + +Yet, since, as one from heaven has said, + There lies beyond that dreary bourn +A region where the faithful dead + Eternally forget to mourn, +Welcome the scoff, the sword, the chain, + The burning waste, the black abyss:-- +I shrink not from the path of pain, + Which leads me to that world of bliss. + +Then hush, thou troubled heart! be still;-- + Renounce thy vain philosophy;-- +Seek thou to work thy Maker's will, + And light from heaven shall break on thee. +'Twill glad thee in the weary strife, + Where strong men sink with falling breath;-- +'Twill cheer thee in the noon of life, + And bless thee in the night of death." + + + +The Voices of the Dead + + + +"And by it he being dead yet speaketh." Hebrews xi. 4. + + + +Much of the communion of this earth is not by speech or actual +contact, and the holiest influences fall upon us in silence. A +monument or symbol shall convey a meaning which cannot be +expressed; and a token of some departed one is more eloquent than +words. The mere presence of a good and holy personage will move +us to reverence and admiration, though he may say and do but +little. So is there an impersonal presence of such an one; and, +though far away, he converses with us, teaches and incites us. +The organs of speech are only one method of the soul's +expression; and the best information which it receives comes +without voice or sound. We hear no vocal utterance from God, yet +he speaks to us through all the forms of nature. In the blue, +ever-arching heaven he tells us of his comprehensive care and +tender pity, and "the unwearied sun" proclaims his constant and +universal benevolence. The air that wraps us close breathes of +his intimate and all-pervading spirit; and the illimitable space, +and the stars that sparkle abroad without number, show forth his +majesty and suggest infinitude. The gush of silent prayer--the +sublimest mood of the spirit--is when we are so near to him that +words cannot come between; and the power of his presence is felt +the most, felt in the profoundest deep of our nature, when the +curtains of his pavilion hang motionless around us. And it is +so, I repeat, with all our best communions. The holiest lessons +are not in the word, but the life. The virtues that attract us +most are silent. The most beautiful charities go noiseless on +their mission. The two mites reveal the spiritual wealth beneath +the poor widow's weeds; the alabaster box of ointment is fragrant +with Mary's gratitude; the look of Christ rebukes Peter into +penitence; and by his faith Abel, being dead, yet speaketh. + +Yes, even the dead, long gone from us, returning no more, their +places left vacant, their lineaments dimly remembered, their +bodies mouldering back to dust, even these have communion with +us; and to speak of "the voices of the dead" is no mere fancy. +And it is to that subject that I would call your attention, in +the remainder of a brief discourse. + +"He being dead yet speaketh." The departed have voices for us. +In order to illustrate this, I remark, in the first place, that +the dead speak to us, and commune with us, through the works +which they have left behind them. As the islands of the sea are +the built-up casements of myriads of departed lives,--as the +earth itself is a great catacomb,--so we who live and move upon +its surface inherit the productions and enjoy the fruits of the +dead. They have bequeathed to us by far the larger portion of +all that influences our thoughts, or mingles with the +circumstances of our daily life. We walk through the streets +they laid out. We inhabit the houses they built. We practise +the customs they established. We gather wisdom from books they +wrote. We pluck the ripe clusters of their experience. We boast +in their achievements. And by these they speak to us. Every +device and influence they have left behind tells their story, and +is a voice of the dead. We feel this more impressively when we +enter the customary place of one recently departed, and look +around upon his work. The half-finished labor, the utensils +hastily thrown aside, the material that exercised his care and +received his last touch, all express him, and seem alive with his +presence. By them, though dead, he speaketh to us, with a +freshness and tone like his words of yesterday. How touching are +those sketched forms, those unfilled outlines in that picture +which employed so fully the time and genius of the great +artist--Belshazzar's feast! In the incomplete process, the +transition-state of an idea from its conception to its +realization, we are brought closer to the mind of the artist; we +detect its springs and hidden workings, and therefore feel its +reality more than in the finished effort. And this is one reason +why we are impressed at beholding the work just left than in +gazing upon one that has been for a long time abandoned. Having +had actual communion with the contriving mind, we recognize its +presence more readily in its production; or else the recency of +the departure heightens the expressiveness with which everything +speaks of the departed. The dead child's cast-off garment, the +toy just tossed aside, startles us as though with his renewed +presence. A year hence, they will suggest him to us, but with a +different effect. + +But though not with such an impressive tone, yet just as much, in +fact, do the productions of those long gone speak to us. Their +minds are expressed there, and a living voice can do little more. +Nay, we are admitted to a more intimate knowledge of them than +was possessed by their contemporaries. The work they leave +behind them is the sum-total of their lives--expresses their +ruling passion--reveals, perhaps, their real sentiment. To the +eyes of those placed on the stage with them, they walked as in a +show, and each life was a narrative gradually unfolding itself. +We discover the moral. We see the results of that completed +history. We judge the quality and value of that life by the +residuum. As "a prophet has no honor in his own country," so one +may be misconceived in his own time, both to his undue +disparagement, and his undue exaltation; therefore can another +age better write his biography than his own. His work, his +permanent result, speaks for him better--at least truer--than he +spoke for himself. The rich man's wealth,--the sumptuous +property, the golden pile that he has left behind him;--by it, +being dead, does he not yet speak to us? Have we not, in that +gorgeous result of toiling days and anxious nights,--of +brain-sweat and soul-rack,--the man himself, the cardinal +purpose, the very life of his soul? which we might have surmised +while he lived and wrought, but which, now that it remains the +whole sum and substance of his mortal being, speaks far more +emphatically than could any other voice he might have used. The +expressive lineaments of the marble, the pictured canvas, the +immortal poem;--by it, Genius, being dead, yet speaketh. To us, +and not to its own time, are unhoarded the wealth of its thought +and the glory of its inspiration. When it is gone,--when its +lips are silent, and its heart still,--then is revealed the +cherished secret over which it toiled, which was elaborated from +the living alembic of the soul, through painful days and weary +nights,--the sentiment which could not find expression to +contemporaries,--the gift, the greatness, the lyric power, which +was disguised and unknown so long. Who, that has communed with +the work of such a spirit, has not felt in every line that +thrilled his soul, in every wondrous lineament that stamped +itself upon his memory forever, that the dead can speak, yes, +that they have voices which speak most truly, most emphatically +when they are dead? So does Industry speak, in its noble +monuments, its precious fruits! So does Maternal Affection +speak, in a chord that vibrates in the hardest heart, in the pure +and better sentiment of after-years. So does Patriotism speak, +in the soil liberated and enriched by its sufferings. So does +the martyr speak, in the truth which triumphs by his sacrifice. +So does the great man speak, in his life and deeds, glowing on +the storied page. so does the good man speak, in the character +and influence which he leaves behind him. The voices of the dead +come to us from their works, from their results and these are all +around us. + +But I remark, in the second place, that the dead speak to us in +memory and association. If their voices may be constantly heard +in their works, we do not always heed them; neither have we that +care and attachment for the great congregation of the departed +which will at any time call them up vividly before us. But in +that congregation there are those whom we have known intimately +and fondly, whom we cherished with our best love, who lay close +to our bosoms. And these speak to us in a more private and +peculiar manner,--in mementos that flash upon us the whole person +of the departed, every physical and spiritual lineament--in +consecrated hours of recollection that upon up all the train of +the past, and re-twine its broken ties around our hearts, and +make its endearments present still. Then, then, though dead, +they speak to us. It needs not the vocal utterance, nor the +living presence, but the mood that transforms the scene and the +hour supplies these. That face that has slept so long in the +grave, now bending upon us, pale and silent, but affectionate +still,--that more vivid recollection of every feature, tone, and +movement, that brings before us the departed just as we knew them +in the full flush of life and health,--that soft and consecrating +spell which falls upon us, drawing in all our thoughts from the +present, arresting, as it were, the current of our being, and +turning it back and holding it still as the flood of actual life +rushes by us,--while in that trance of soul the beings of the +past are shadowed--old friends, old days, old scenes recur, +familiar looks beam close upon us, familiar words reecho in our +ears, and we are closed up and absorbed with the by-gone, until +tears dissolve the film from our eyes, and some shock of the +actual wakes us from our reverie;--all these, I say make the dead +to commune with us as really as though in bodily form they should +come out from the chambers of their mysterious silence, and speak +to us. And if life consists in experiences, and not mere +physical relations,--and if love and communion belong to that +experience, though they take place in meditation, or in dreams, +or by actual contact,--then, in that hour of remembrance, have we +really lived with the departed, and the departed have come back +and lived with us. Though dead, they have spoken to us. And +though memory sometimes induces the spirit of heaviness,--though +it is often the agent of conscience, and wakens u to +chastise,--yet, it is wonderful how, from events that were deeply +mingled with pain, it will extract an element of sweetness. a +writer, in relating one of the experiences of her sick-room, has +illustrated this. In an hour of suffering, when no one was near +here, she went out from her bed and her room to another +apartment, and looked out upon a glorious landscape of sunrise +and spring-time. "I was suffering too much to enjoy this picture +at the moment," she says, "but how was it at the end of the year? +The pains of all those hours were annihilated,--as completely +vanished as if they had never been; while the momentary peep +behind the window-curtain made me possessor of this radiant +picture for evermore." "Whence came this wide difference," she +asks, "between the good and the evil? Because good is +indissolubly connected with ideas,--with the unseen realities +which are indestructible." And though the illustration which she +thus gives may bear the impression of an individual personality, +instead of a universal truth, still, in the instance to which I +apply it, I believe it will very generally hold true, that memory +leaves a pleasant rather than a painful impression. At least, +there is so much that is pleasant mingled with it that we would +not willingly lose the faculty of memory,--the consciousness that +we can thus call back the dead, and hear their voices,--that we +have the power of softening the rugged realities which only +suggest our loss and disappointment, by transferring the scene +and the hour to the past and the departed. And, as our +conceptions become more and more spiritual, we shall find the +real to be less dependent upon the outward and the visible,--we +shall learn how much life there is in a thought,--how veritable +are the communions of spirit; and the hour in which memory gives +us the vision of the dead will be prized by us as an hour of +actual experience and such opportunities will grow more precious +to us. No, we would not willingly lose this power of memory. +One would not say, "Let the dead never come back to me in a +thought, or a dream; let them never glide before me in the still +watch of meditation; let me see, let me hear them no more, even +in fancy;"--not one of us would say this; and, therefore, it is +evident, that whatever painful circumstance memory or association +may recall,--even though it cause us to go out and weep +bitterly,--there is a sacred pleasure, a tender melancholy, that +speaks to us in these voices of the dead, which we are willing to +cherish and repeat. It makes our tears soft and sanctifying as +they fall; it makes our hearts purer and better,--makes them +stronger for the conflict of life. + +I remark, finally, that the dead speak to us in those religious +suggestions--those consolations, invitations, and hopes--which +the bereaved spirit indulges. Our meditations, concerning them +naturally draw us more closely to these spiritual realities which +lie beyond the grave, and beget in us those holier sentiments +which we need. That such is the tendency of these recollections +experience assures us. They open for us a new order of thought; +they bring us in contact with the loftiest but most neglected +truths. Even the hardest heart feels this influence. It is +softened by the stroke of bereavement and, for the time being, a +chastening influence falls upon it, and it always thinks of the +dead with tenderness and awe. They speak to our affections with +an irresistible influence; they soothe our turbulent passions +with their mild and holy calmness; they rebuke us in their +spiritual majesty for our sensuality and our sin. They have +departed, but they are not silent. Though dead, they speak to +us. Sweet and sanctifying is their communion with us. They +utter words of warning, too, and speak to us by the silent +eloquence of example. By this they bid us imitate all that was +good in their lives, all that is dear to remember. By this, too, +they tell us that we are passing swiftly from the earth, and +hastening to join their number. A little while ago, and they +were as we are;--a little while hence, and we shall be as they. +Our work, like theirs, will be left behind to speak for us. How +important, then, that we consider what work we do! They assure +us that nothing is perpetual here. They bid us not fasten our +affections upon earth. In long procession they pass us by, with +solemn voices telling of their love and hatred, their interests +and cares, their work and device;--all abandoned now and passed +away, as little worth as the dust that blows across their graves. +Upon all that was theirs, upon every memorial of them, broods a +melancholy dimness and silence. They recede more and more from +the associations of the living. New tides of life roll through +the cities of their habitation, and upon the foot-worn pavements +of their traffic other feet are busy. Their lovely labor, or +their stately pomp, is forgotten. No one weeps or cares for +them. Their solicitous monuments are unheeded. The companions +of their youth have rejoined them. The young, who scarcely +remembered them, are giving way to another generation. The +places that knew them know them no longer. "This, this," their +solemn voices preach to us, "is the changeableness of earth, and +the emptiness of its pursuits!" They urge us to seek the noblest +end, the unfailing treasure. They bid us to find our hope and +our rest, our only constant joy in Him, who alone, amid this +mutability and decay, is permanent,--in God! + +Well, then, is it for us to listen to the voices of the dead. By +so doing, we are better fitted for life, and for death. From +that audience we go purified and strengthened into the varied +discipline of our mortal state. We are willing to stay, knowing +that the dead are so near us, and that our communion with them +may be so intimate. We are willing to go, seeing that we shall +not be widely separated from those we leave behind. We will toil +in our lot while God pleases, and when he summons us we will +calmly depart. When the silver cord becomes untwined, and the +golden bond broken,--when the wheel of action stands still in the +exhausted cistern of our life,--may we lie down in the light of +that faith which makes so beautiful the face of the dying +Christian, and has converted death's ghastly silence to a +peaceful sleep; may we rise to a holier and more visible +communion, in the land without a sin and without a tear; where +the dead shall be closer to us than in this life; where not the +partition of a shadow, or a doubt, shall come between. + + + +Mystery and Faith + + + +"For we walk by faith, not by sight." II Corinthians v. 7. + +It needs only common experience, and but little of that, to +convince us that this life is full of mystery, and at every step +we take demands of us faith. For at every step we take we +literally walk by faith; in every work we do we must have +confidence in something which is not by sight, in something which +is not yet demonstrated. Skepticism carried to its ultimate +consequences is the negation of everything. It closes up the +issues of all knowledge, and sunders every ligament that binds us +to practical life. We must have faith in something or we stand +on no promises; we can predicate nothing. It may be said that in +the experience of the past we have a guide for the future; but +then, must we not have faith in experience? Do we not trust +something which is not yet demonstrated when we say "This cause +which produced that effect yesterday will produce a similar +effect today or tomorrow?" How do we know--positively know, that +it will produce that effect, and what are the grounds of our +knowledge? This boasted "cause and effect," this "experience," +what right have we to rely upon it for one moment of the future? +Not for that moment has it demonstrated anything;--it +demonstrated for the time being, and the time being only; and our +confidence that it will do so again is faith, not sight--faith in +cause and effect, faith in experience, but faith after all. +Hume, the philosopher, has illustrated the positions which have +now been taken. "As to past experience," says he, "it can be +allowed to give direct and certain information of those precise +objects only, and that precise period of time which fell under +its cognizance; but why this experience should be extended to +future times, and to other objects, which for aught we know may +be only in appearance similar; this is the main question on which +I would insist. The bread which I formerly ate nourished me; +that is, a body of such sensible qualities was, at that time, +endued with such secret powers; but does it follow that other +bread must also nourish me at another time, and that like +sensible qualities must also be attended with like secret powers? +The consequence seems nowise necessary." And yet we eat our +bread, day by day, without a doubt or a fear. We sow the grain +and we reap the wheat, but for all the work is done in faith, and +the whole process is steeped in mystery. In that scattering of +the golden seed, what confidence is expressed in elements that we +cannot see, in beneficent agencies that we cannot control, in +results that are beyond our power, and that in their growth and +development are full of wonder exceeding our wisdom. Give up +faith; say that we will act only upon that which is demonstrated +and known, say that we will walk only so far as sight reaches, +and we completely separate the present from the future, and stop +all the mechanism of practical life. + +But if we take a wider view of things, and consider this material +universe in which we live, the great fact of mystery and the need +of faith will be urged upon us by a larger and more impressive +teaching. The more we learn of nature the more clearly is +revealed to us this fact--that we know less than we thought we +did; positively, we know more, but relatively we know less, +because as we have advanced nature has stretched out into wider +and wider relations. The department that was unknown to us +yesterday is explored to-day. Yesterday, we thought it was all +that remained to be explored, but the torch of investigation that +guided us through it now flares out upon new regions we did not +see before. Like one who goes with a candle into some immense +cavern, presently a little circle becomes clear, the shadows +vanish before him, and undefined forms grow distinct. he thinks +he is near the end, when lo! what seemed a solid boundary of rock +dissolves and floats away into a depth of darkness, the path +opens into an immense void, new shapes of mystery start out, and +he learns this much that he did not know before, that instead of +being near the end, he is only upon the threshold. We do not +mean to imply by this that we have no positive knowledge, or that +we do not increase in knowledge. With every new discovery we +positively know more and more. But the new discovery reveals the +fact that more is yet to be known; it lays open new regions, it +unfolds new relations that we had not before suspected. + +We follow some tiny thread a little way, and hold it secure, but +it is connected with another ligament, and this branches out into +a third; and instead of exhausting the matter, we find ourselves +at the root of an infinite series, of an immense relationship, +upon which we have only just opened; and yet what we have is +positive knowledge, is something more added to our stock. The +circle of the known has positively widened, but the horizon of +the unknown has widened also, and, instead of being to us now, as +it seemed some time ago, a solid and ultimate limit, it is only +an ethereal wall, only to us a relative boundary, and behind are +infinite depths and mystery. Our scientific knowledge at the +present day reaches this grand result--it clears up the deception +that the system of nature is mere flat, dead materiality, a few +mechanical laws, a few rigid forms. It shows that these are only +the husks, the outer garments of mighty forces of subtile, +far-reaching agencies; and the most common, every-day truths, +that seemed stale and exhausted, become illuminated with infinite +meaning, and are the blossoms of an infinite life. + +The wider our circle of discovery, the wider our wonder; the more +startling our conclusions, the more perplexing our questions. We +have not exhausted the universe;--we have just begun to see its +harmony of proportion and of relations, without penetrating a +fathom into its real life. How and what is that power that works +in the shooting of a crystal, and binds the obedience of a star; +that shimmers in the northern Aurora, and connects by its +attraction the aggregated universe; that by its unseen forces, +its all-prevalent jurisdiction, holds the little compass to the +north, blooms in the nebula and the flower, weaves the garment of +earth and the veil of heaven, darts out in lightning, spins the +calm motion of the planets, and presides mysteriously over all +motion and all life? And what is life, and what is death, and +what a thousand things that we touch, and experience, and think +we know all about? O! as science, as nature opens upon us, we +find mystery after mystery, and the demand upon the human soul if +for faith, faith in high, yes, in spiritual realities; and this +materialism that would shut us in to death and sense, that denies +all spirit and all miracle, is shattered like a crystal sphere, +and the soul rushes out into wide orbits and infinite +revolutions, into life, and light, and power, that are of +eternity,--that are of God! + +Thus the scale is prepared for us to rise from things of sense to +things of spirit, to rise from faith in nature to faith in +Revelation, from the faith of LaPlace to the faith of Paul. No +one who has studied nature will reject Christianity because it +reveals truths that he cannot see with his naked eye,--because it +speaks of things that he cannot comprehend. No one who has +considered the shooting of a green blade will dogmatically deny +its miracles. No one who has found in the natural world the +intelligent wisdom that pervades all things, will wonder that he +discovers a revelation of perfect love in Jesus Christ. "We walk +by faith, not by sight," said Paul. So says every Christian; and +it is of all things the most rational. Faith in something higher +and greater than we can see, faith in something above this narrow +scene, faith in something beyond this present life, faith in +realities that are not of time or sense; from all that we have +now considered we claim such faith to be most rational, most +natural. God, spirit, immortality, instead of being inconsistent +with what we know, are what we most legitimately deduce from +it,--what we might expect from the light that trembles behind the +curtain of mystery which bounds all our sensuous knowledge. We +do believe, the veriest skeptic believes in something behind that +curtain of mystery; nor can he withhold his faith because it +attaches to that which is unseen and incomprehensible, without, +as has already been shown, cutting every nerve that binds us to +practical life, and smothering every suggestion that speaks from +outward nature. If he do not believe in a God, then, or in +Christ, or in immortality, let him not sneer at others because +they walk by faith and not by sight; for he also must do so, +though his faith be not in such high truths, such spiritual +realities. + +The Christian's faith is an Infinite Father and an immortal life, +and though he cannot see them, cannot come in material contact +with them, he believes them to be the greatest of all realities, +and he sees them by faith, a medium as legitimate as that of +sight. They are mysteries, but everything contains a mystery; +they demand of him what every day's, every hour's events demand +of him--faith. Let us understand, however, that faith is not the +surrendering of our minds to that which is irrational and +inconsistent. These terms should not be confounded with the +mysterious and the incomprehensible. That the earth moves and +yet stands still is not a proposition that demands faith. It is +in the province of reason to say that it cannot move and stand +still at the same time. It is an inconsistency. But how the +earth moves on its axis, what is that law that makes it move, is +an incomprehensibility. An incomprehensibility is one thing, an +inconsistency is another thing. The one conflicts with our +reason, the other is beyond it. In that which conflicts with our +reason we cannot have faith, but as to that which is beyond it we +exercise faith every day; for we literally walk by faith and not +by sight. + +Who shall say, then, that God, immortality, and those high truths +revealed by Jesus, are inconsistent? Do they not conform to the +highest reason? Do not our deepest intuitions demand that these +revelations should be true? Consult your nature, examine your +own heart, consider what you are, what you want, what you feel, +deeply want, keenly feel, and then say whether the Revelation of +a God, a Father, and an immortal life, satisfies you as nothing +else can. Take them away, and would there not be a dreary and +overwhelming void? And because you have not seen God, because +you have not realized immortality, because they reach beyond your +present vision, because the grave shuts you in, because they are +high and transcendent truths, will you reject them? Do so, and +try to walk by sight alone. With that nature of yours, so full +of love, with that intellect of yours so limitless in capacity, +you are apparently a child of the elements, a thing of physical +nature, born of the dust, and returning to it. With desires that +reach out beyond the stars, with faculties that in this life just +begin to bud, with affections whose bleeding tendrils cling +around the departed, wrestle with death, and say to the grave, +"Give up the dead! they are not thine, but mine; I feel they must +be mine forever," with all these desires, capacities, affections, +you walk--so far as mere sight helps you--among graves and decay, +with nothing more enduring, nothing better, than three-score +years and ten, the clods of the valley, the crumbling bone, and +the dissolving dust! Because God and immortality are mysterious, +incomprehensible, reject them, and walk only by sight? The +humblest outpouring of human affection rebukes thy skepticism; +the most narrow degree of human intellect prophesies beyond all +this; the darkest heart, with that spark of eternal life, the +yearning that moves beneath all its sensualities, and speaks for +better, for more enduring things,--that rebukes thee; and in +man's moral nature, in his heart and his mind, there is that +which only can be satisfied, only can be explained by God and +immortality. They alone, then, are rational, they alone have +comprehensive vision, who walk by faith, and not by sight. + +Mystery and faith, then; let what we have said concerning these +be not alone for the skeptic, but for the Christian who has faith +but cannot fully justify and confirm it, or who feels it +faltering under some heavy burden, or who is overwhelmed by the +magnitude of the truths to which it attaches, or who wishes, with +a kind of half-doubt, that these things might be seen and felt. +They are great, they are incomprehensibly great; but are they +therefore untrue? Does not your heart of hearts tell you they +are true? Does not that Revelation of Christ steal into your +soul and feed it, satisfy it, as nothing else can, with a warm, +benignant power, that makes you know its truth? + +Mysteries are all about us, but faith sees light beyond and +around them all. Have you recently laid down the dead in their +place of rest? Cold and crushing, then, is that feeling of +vacancy, that dreary sense of loss, that rushes upon you, as you +look through the desolate chambers without,--through the desolate +chambers of the heart within. But will not He who calls out from +the very dust where yon sleepers lie the flowers of summer, and +who, in the snows that enwrap their bed, cherishes the germs of +the glorious springtime, will not He who works out this beautiful +mystery in nature bring life back from the tomb, and light out of +darkness? It is truly a great mystery; but everything within us +responds to it as reasonable; and though it demands our faith, +who, who, in this limited and changing world, can walk by sight +alone? + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext The Crown of Thorns, by E. H. Chapin + diff --git a/old/thrns10.zip b/old/thrns10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..41fbbdb --- /dev/null +++ b/old/thrns10.zip |