All Saints' Day and Other Sermons

St. Matthew v. 25, 26.  “Agree with thine adversary quickly, whiles thou art in the way with him; lest at any time the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison.  Verily I say unto thee, Thou shalt by no means come out thence, till thou hast paid the uttermost farthing.”

This parable our Lord seems to have spoken at least twice, as He did several others.  For we find it also in the 12th chapter of St. Luke.  But it is there part of quite a different discourse.  I think that by seeing what it means there, we shall see more clearly what it means here.

Our Lord there is speaking of the sins of the whole Jewish nation.  Here He is speaking rather of each man’s private sins.  But He applies the same parable to both.  He gives the same warning to both.  Not to go too far on the wrong road, lest they come to a point where they cannot turn back, but must go on to just punishment, if not to utter destruction.

That is what He warned the Jews all through the latter part of the 12th chapter of Luke.  He will come again, He says, at an hour they do not think of, and then if their elders, the Scribes and Pharisees, are going on as they are now, beating the man-servants and maid-servants, and eating and drinking with the drunken, oppressing the people, and living in luxury and profligacy, He will cut them asunder, and appoint them their portion with the unbelievers.

In this, and in many other parables, He had been warning them that their ruin was near; and, at last, turning to the whole crowd, He appeals to them, to their common sense.  “When ye see a cloud rise out of the west, straightway ye say, There cometh a shower; and so it is.  And when ye see the south wind blow, ye say, There will be heat; and it cometh to pass.  Ye hypocrites, ye can discern the face of the sky and of the earth; but how is it that ye do not discern this time?”  If God can give you common sense about one thing, why not about another?  Why can you not open your eyes and of yourselves judge what is right?  “Agree with thine adversary quickly, whiles thou art in the way with him; lest at any time the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison.  Verily I say unto thee, Thou shalt by no means come out thence, till thou hast paid the uttermost farthing.”

So He spoke; and they did not fully understand what He meant.  They thought that by their adversary He meant the Roman governor.  For they immediately began to talk to Him about some Galileans whose blood Pilate, the Roman governor, had mingled with their sacrifices (I suppose in some of those wars which were continually breaking out in Judea).  I think He meant more than that.  “Suppose ye that these Galilæans were sinners above all the Galilæans?  Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.”  As much as to say, though ye did not rebel against the Romans like these Galilæans, you have your sins, which will ruin you.  As long as you are hypocrites, with your mouths full of the cant of religion, and your hearts full of all mean and spiteful passions; as long as you cannot of yourselves discern what is right, and have lost conscience, and the everlasting distinction between right and wrong, so long are you walking blindfold to ruin.  There is an adversary against you, who will surely deliver you to the judge some day, and then it will be too late to cry for mercy.  And who was that adversary?  Who but the everlasting law of God, which says, Thou shalt do justly?—and you Jews are utterly unjust, false, covetous, and unrighteous.  Thou shalt love all men; and you are cruel and spiteful, hating each other, and making all mankind hate you.  Thou shalt walk humbly with thy God; and you Jews are walking proudly with God; fancying that God belongs only to you; that because you are His chosen people, He will let you commit every sin you choose, as long as you keep His name on your lips, and keep up an empty worship of Him in the temple.  That is your adversary, the everlasting moral law of God.  And who is the Judge but God Himself, who is set on His throne judging right, while you are doing wrong?  And who is the officer, to whom that judge will deliver you?  There indeed the Jews were right.  It was the Romans whom God appointed to punish them for their sins.  All which our Lord had foretold, as all the world knows, came true forty years after in that horrible siege of Jerusalem, which the Jews brought on themselves entirely by their own folly, and pride, and wicked lawlessness.  In that siege, by famine and pestilence, by the Romans’ swords, by crucifixion, and by each other’s hands (for the different factions were murdering each other wholesale up to the very day Jerusalem was taken), thousands of Jews perished horribly, and the rest were sold as slaves over the face of the whole earth, and led away into a captivity from which they could not escape till they had paid the uttermost farthing.

Now let us look at this same parable in the 5th chapter of St Matthew.  Remember first that it is part of the sermon on the Mount, which is all about not doctrine, but morality, the law of right and wrong, the law of justice and mercy.  You will see then that our Lord is preaching against the same sins as in the 12th chapter of St. Luke.  Against a hypocritical religion, joined with a cruel and unjust heart.  Those of old time, the Scribes and Pharisees, said merely, Thou shalt not kill.  And as long as thou dost not kill thy brother, thou mayest hate him in thy heart and speak evil of him with thy lips.  But our Lord says, Not so.  Whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause is in danger of the judgment.  Whosoever shall say to him Raca, or worthless fellow, shall speak insolently, brutally, cruelly, scornfully to him, is in danger of the council.  But whosoever shall say unto him, Thou fool, is in danger of hell fire.  For using that word to the Jews, so says the Talmudic tradition, Moses and Aaron were shut out of the land of promise, for it means an infidel, an atheist, a godless man, or rebel against God, as it is written, “The fool hath said in his heart there is no God.”  Whosoever shall curse his brother, who is trying to be a good Christian man to the best of his light and power, because he does not happen to agree with him in all things, and call him a heretic, and an infidel, and an atheist, and an enemy of God—he is in danger of hell fire.  Let him agree with his adversary quickly, whiles he is in the way with him, lest he be delivered to God the judge, and to the just punishment of him who has not done justly, not loved mercy, not walked humbly with his God.

But who is the adversary of that man, and who is the judge, and who is the officer?  Our adversary in every case, whenever we do wrong, knowingly or unknowingly, is the Law of God, the everlasting laws, by which God has ordered every thing in heaven and earth; and as often as we break one of these laws, let us agree with it again as quickly as we can, lest it hale us before God, the judge of all, and He deliver us over to His officer—to those powers of nature and powers of spirit, which He has appointed as ministers of His vengeance, and they cast us into some prison of necessary and unavoidable misery, from which we shall never escape till we have paid the uttermost farthing.

Do you not understand me?  Then I will give you an example.  Suppose the case of a man hurting his health by self-indulgence of any kind.  Then his adversaries are the laws of health.  Let him agree with them quickly, while he has the power of conquering his bad habits, by recovering his health, lest the time come when his own sins deliver him up to God his judge; and God to His terrible officers of punishment, the laws of Disease; and they cast him into a prison of shame and misery from which there is no escape—shame and misery, most common perhaps among the lower classes: but not altogether confined to them—the weakened body, the bleared eye, the stupified brain, the premature death, the children unhealthy from their parents’ sins, despising their parents, and perhaps copying their vices at the same time.  Many a man have I seen in that prison, fast bound with misery though not with iron, and how he was to pay his debt and escape out of it I know not, though I hope that God does know.

Are any of you, again, in the habit of cheating your neighbours, or dealing unfairly by them?  Your adversary is the everlasting law of justice, which says, Do as you would be done by, for with what measure you mete to others, it shall be measured to you again.

This may show you how a bodily sin, like self-indulgence punishes itself by bringing a man into bondage of bodily misery, from which he cannot escape; and in the same way a spiritual sin, like want of charity, will bring a man into spiritual bondage from which he cannot escape.  And this, as in bodily sins, it will do by virtue of that mysterious and terrible officer of God, which we call Habit.  Habit, by which, we cannot tell how, our having done a thing once becomes a reason for our doing it again, and again after that, till, if the habit be once formed, we cannot help doing that thing, and become enslaved to it, and fast bound by it, in a prison from which there is no escape.  Look for instance at the case of the untruthful man.  Let him beware in time.  Who is his adversary?  Facts are his adversary.  He says one thing, and Fact says another, and a very stubborn and terrible adversary Fact is.  The day will come, most probably in this life, when Facts will bring that untruthful man before God and before men likewise—and cry,—Judge between us which of us is right; and there will come to that false man exposure and shame, and a worse punishment still, perhaps, if he have let the habit grow too strong on him, and have not agreed with his adversary in time.

For have you not seen (alas, you have too surely seen) men who had contracted such a habit of falsehood that they could not shake it off—who had played with their sense of truth so long that they had almost forgotten what truth meant; men who could not speak without mystery, concealment, prevarication, half-statements; who were afraid of the plain truth, not because there was any present prospect of its hurting them, but simply because it was the plain truth—children of darkness, who, from long habit, hated the light—and who, though they had been found out and exposed, could not amend—could not become simple, honest, and truthful—could not escape from the prison of their own bad habits, and the net of lies which they had spread round their own path, till they had paid the uttermost penalty for their deceit?

Look, again, at the case of the uncharitable man, in the habit of forming harsh and cruel judgments of his neighbours.  Then his adversary is the everlasting law of Love, which will surely at last punish him, by the most terrible of all punishments—loss of love to man, and therefore to God.  Are we not (I am, I know, may God forgive me for it) apt to be angry with our brethren without a cause, out of mere peevishness?  Let us beware in time.  Are we not apt to say to them “Raca”—to speak cruelly, contemptuously, fiercely of them, if they thwart us?  Let us beware in time still more.  Are we not worst of all, tempted (as I too often am) to say to them “Thou fool;” to call better men, more useful men more pure men, more pious men than ourselves, hard and cruel names, names from which they would shrink with horror because they cannot see Christian truth in just exactly the same light that we do?  Oh! let us beware then.  Beware lest the everlasting laws of justice and fairness between man and man, of love and charity between man and man, which we have broken, should some day deliver us up, as they delivered those bigoted Jews of old to God our Judge, and He deliver our souls to His most terrible officers, who are called envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness; and they thrust us into that blackest of all prisons, on the gate of which is written, Hardness of heart, and Contempt of God’s Word and commandments, and within which is the outer darkness into which if a man falls, he cannot see the difference between right and wrong: but calls evil good, and good evil, like his companions in the outer darkness—namely, the devil and his angels.  Oh! let us who are coming to lay our gift upon God’s altar at this approaching Christmas tide, consider whether our brother hath aught against us in any of these matters, and, if so, let us leave our gift upon the altar, and be first reconciled to our brother, in heart at least, and with inward shame, and confession, and contrition, and resolution to amend.  But we can only do that by recollecting what gift we are to leave on Christ’s altar,—that it is the gift of self, the sacrifice of ourselves, with all our selfishness, pride, conceit, spite, cruelty.  Ourselves, with all our sins, we are to lay upon Christ’s altar, that our sins may be nailed to His cross, and washed clean in His blood, everlastingly consumed in the fire of His Spirit, the pure spirit of love, which is the Charity of God, that so, self being purged out of us, we may become holy and lively sacrifices to God, parts and parcels of that perfect sacrifice which Christ offered up for the sins of the whole world—even the sacrifice of Himself.

SERMON XXVIII.  ST JOHN THE BAPTIST

Chester Cathedral. 1872.

St Luke iii. 2, 3, 7, 9-14.  “The Word of God came unto John the son of Zacharias in the wilderness.  And he came into all the country about Jordan, preaching the baptism of repentance for the remission of sins. . . . Then said he to the multitude that came forth to be baptized of him, O generation of vipers, who hath warned you to flee from the wrath to come?  Bring forth therefore fruits worthy of repentance. . . .  And now also the axe is laid unto the root of the trees: every tree therefore that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire.  And the people asked him saying, What shall we do then?  He answereth and saith unto them, He that hath two coats, let him impart to him that hath none; and he that hath meat, let him do likewise.  Then came also publicans to be baptized unto them, and said unto him, Master, what shall we do?  And he said, Exact no more than that which is appointed you.  And the soldiers likewise demanded of him, saying, And what shall we do?  And he said unto them, Do violence to no man, neither accuse any falsely, and be content with your wages.”

This is St John Baptist’s day.  Let me say a very few words—where many might be said—about one of the noblest personages who ever has appeared on this earth.

Our blessed Lord said, “Among them that are born of women there hath not risen a greater than John the Baptist, notwithstanding, he that is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.”  These are serious words; for which of us dare to say that we are greater than John the Baptist?

But let us at least think a while what John the Baptist was like.  So we shall gain at least the sight of an ideal man.  It is not the highest ideal.  Our Lord tells us that plainly; and we, as Christians, should know that it is not.  The ideal man is our Lord Christ Himself, and none other.  Still, he that has not mounted the lower step of the heavenly stair, has certainly not mounted the higher; and therefore, if we have not attained to the likeness of John the Baptist, still more, we have not attained to the likeness of Christ.  What, then, was John the Baptist like?  What picture of him and his character can we form to ourselves in our own imaginations? for that is all we have to picture him by—helped—always remember that—by the Holy Spirit of God, who helps the imagination, the poetic and dramatic faculty of men; just as much as He helps the logical and argumentative faculty to see things and men as they really are, by the spirit of love, which also is the spirit of true understanding.

How, then, shall we picture John the Baptist to ourselves?  Great painters, greater than the world seems likely to see again, have exercised their fancy upon his face, his figure, his actions.  We must put out of our minds, I fear, at once, many of the loveliest of them all: those in which Raffaelle and others have depicted the child John, in his camel’s hair raiment, with a child’s cross in his hand, worshipping the infant Christ.  There is also one exquisite picture, by Annibale Caracci, if I recollect rightly, in which the blessed babe is lying asleep, and the blessed Virgin signs to St John, pressing forward to adore him, not to awaken his sleeping Lord and God.  But such imaginations, beautiful as they are, and true in a heavenly and spiritual sense, which therefore is true eternally for you, and me, and all mankind, are not historic fact.  For St John the Baptist said himself, “and I knew him not.”

He may have been, we must almost say, he must have been, brought up with or near our Lord.  He may have seen in Him such a child (we must believe that), as he never saw before.  He knew Him at least to be a princely child, of David’s royal line.  But he was not conscious of who and what He was, till the mysterious inner voice, of whom he gives only the darkest hints, said to him, “Upon whom thou shalt see the Spirit descending, and remaining on Him, the same is He which baptizeth with the Holy Ghost.  And I saw and bare record that this is the Son of God.”  But what manner of man was St John the Baptist in the meantime?  Painters have tried their hands at drawing him, and we thank them.  Pictures, says St Augustine, are the books of the unlearned.  And, my friends, when great painters paint, they are the books of the too-learned likewise.  They bring us back, bring us home, by one glance at a human face, a human figure, a human scene of action, out of our philosophies, and criticisms, and doctrines, which narrow our hearts, without widening our heads, to the deeper facts of humanity, and therefore to the deeper facts of theology likewise.  But what picture of St John the Baptist shall we choose whereby to represent him to ourselves, as the forerunner of the incarnate God?

The best which I can recollect is the great picture by Guido—ah, that he had painted always as wisely and as well—of the magnificent lad sitting on the rock, half clad in his camel’s hair robe, his stalwart hand lifted up to denounce he hardly knows what, save that things are going all wrong, utterly wrong to him; his beautiful mouth open to preach, he hardly knows what, save that he has a message from God, of which he is half-conscious as yet—that he is a forerunner, a prophet, a foreteller of something and some one which is to come, and which yet is very near at hand.  The wild rocks are round him, the clear sky is over him, and nothing more.  He, the gentleman born, the clergyman born—for you must recollect who and what St John the Baptist was, and that he was neither democrat nor vulgar demagogue, nor flatterer of ignorant mobs, but a man of an ancestry as ancient and illustrious as it was civilised, and bound by long ties of duty, of patriotism, of religion, and of the temple worship of God:—he, the noble and the priest, has thrown off—not in discontent and desperation, but in hope and awe—all his family privileges, all that seems to make life worth having; and there aloft and in the mountains, alone with nature and with God, feeding on locusts and wild honey and whatsoever God shall send, and clothed in skins, he, like Elijah of old, renews not merely the habits, but the spirit and power of Elijah, and preaches to a generation sunk in covetousness and superstition, party spirit, and the rest of the seven devils which brought on the fall of his native land, and which will bring on the fall of every land on earth, preaches to them, I say—What?

The most common, let me say boldly, the most vulgar—in the good old sense of the word—the most vulgar morality.  He tells them that an awful ruin was coming unless they repented and mended.  How fearfully true his words were, the next fifty years proved.  The axe, he said, was laid to the root of the tree; and the axe was the heathen Roman, even then master of the land.  But God, not the Roman Cæsar merely, was laying the axe.  And He was a good God, who only wanted goodness, which He would preserve; not badness, which He would destroy.  Therefore men must not merely repent and do penance, they must bring forth fruits meet for penance; do right instead of doing wrong, lest they be found barren trees, and be cut down, and cast into that everlasting fire of God, which, thanks be to His Holy name, burns for ever—unquenchable by all men’s politics, and systems, and political or other economies, to destroy out of God’s Kingdom all that offendeth and whatsoever loveth and maketh a lie—oppressors, quacks, cheats, hypocrites, and the rest.

The people—the farming class—came to him with “What shall we do?”  The young priest and nobleman, in his garment of camel’s hair, has nothing but plain morality for them.  “He that hath two coats, let him impart to him that hath none; and he that hath meat, let him do likewise.”  The publicans, the renegades, who were farming the taxes of the Roman conquerors, and making their base profit out of their countrymen’s slavery, came to him,—“Master, what shall we do?”  He does not tell them not to be publicans.  He does not tell his countrymen to rebel, though he must have been sorely tempted to do it.  All he says is, Make the bad and base arrangement as good as you can; exact no more than that which is appointed you.  The soldiers, poor fellows, come to him.  Whether they were Herod’s mercenaries, or real gallant Roman soldiers, we are not told.  Either had unlimited power under a military despotism, in an anarchic and half-enslaved country; but whichever they were, he has the same answer to them of common morality.  You are what you are; you are where you are.  Do it as well as you can.  Do no violence to any man, neither accuse any man falsely, and be content with your wages.

Ah, wise politician, ah, clear and rational spirit, who knows and tells others to do the duty which lies nearest them; who sees (as old Greek Hesiod says), how much bigger the half is than the whole; who, in the hour of his country’s deepest degradation, had divine courage to say, our deliverance lies, not in rebellion, but in doing right.  But he has sterner words.  Pharisees, the separatists, the religious men, who think themselves holier than any one else; and Sadducees, materialist men of the world, who sneer at the unseen, the unknown, the heroic, come to him.  And for Pharisee and Sadducee—for the man who prides himself on believing more than his neighbours, and for the man who prides himself on believing less—he has the same answer.  Both are exclusives, inhuman, while they are pretending to be more than human.  He knew them well, for he was born and bred among them, and he forestalls our Lord’s words to them, “O generation of vipers, who hath warned you to flee from the wrath to come?”

At last his preaching of common morality is put to the highest test.  The king—the tyrant as we should call him—the Herod of the day, an usurper, neither a son of David, nor a king chosen by the people, tries to patronize him.  The old spirit of his forefather Aaron, of his forefather Phineas, the spirit of Levi, which (rightly understood), is the Spirit of God, flashes up in the young priestly prophet, in the old form of common morality.  “It is not lawful for thee to have thy brother’s wife.”  We know the rest; how, at the request of Herodias’ daughter, Herod sent and beheaded John in prison, and how she took his head in a charger and brought it to her mother.  Great painters have shown us again and again the last act—outwardly hideous, but really beautiful—of St John’s heroic drama, in a picture of the lovely dancing girl with the prophet’s head in a charger—a dreadful picture; and yet one which needed to be painted, for it was a terrible fact, and is still, and will be till this wicked world’s end, a matter for pity and tears rather than for indignation.  The most perfect representations, certainly the most tragical I know of it, are those which are remarkable, not for their expression, but for their want of expression—the young girl in brocade and jewels, with the gory head in her hands, thinking of nothing out of those wide vacant foolish eyes, save the triumph of self-satisfied vanity; for the spite and revenge is not in her, but in her wicked mother.  She is just the very creature, who, if she had been better trained, and taught what John the Baptist really was, might have reverenced him, worshipped him, and ministered unto him.  Alas! alas! how do the follies of poor humanity repeat themselves in every age.  The butterfly has killed the lion, without after all meaning much harm.  Ah, that such human butterflies would take warning by the fate of Herodias’ daughter, and see how mere vanity will lead, if indulged too long and too freely, to awful crime.

One knows the old stories,—how Herod, and Herodias, and the vain foolish girl fell into disgrace with the Emperor, and were banished into Provence, and died in want and misery.  One knows too the old legends, how Herodias’ daughter reappears in South Europe—even in old German legends—as the witch-goddess, fair and ruinous, sweeping for ever through wood and wold at night with her troop of fiends, tempting the traveller to dance with them till he dies; a name for ever accursed through its own vanity rather than its own deliberate sin, from which may God preserve us all, men as well as women.  So two women, one wicked and one vain, did all they could to destroy one of the noblest human beings who ever walked this earth.  And what did they do?  They did not prevent his being the forerunner and prophet of the incarnate Son of God.  They did not prevent his being the master and teacher of the blessed Apostle St John, who was his spiritual son and heir.  They did not prevent his teaching all men and women, to whom God gives grace to understand him, that the true repentance, the true conversion, the true deliverance from the wrath to come, the true entrance into the kingdom of heaven, the true way to Christ and to God, is common morality.

And now let us bless God’s holy name for all His servants departed in His faith and fear, and especially for His servant St John the Baptist, beseeching Him to give us grace, so to follow his doctrine and holy life, that we may truly repent after his preaching and after his example.  May the Lord forgive our exceeding cowardice, and help us constantly to speak the truth, boldly rebuke vice, and patiently suffer for the truth’s sake; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

SERMON XXIX.  THE PRESENT RECOMPENSE

Chester Cathedral, Nave Service, Evening.  May 1872.

Proverbs xi. 31.  “Behold, the righteous shall be recompensed in the earth: much more the wicked and the sinner.”

This is the key-note of the Book of Proverbs—that men are punished or rewarded according to their deeds in this life; nay, it is the key-note of the whole Old Testament.  “The eyes of the Lord are over the righteous, and His ears are open unto their prayers; the countenance of the Lord is against them that do evil, to root out the remembrance of them from the earth.”

But here, at the beginning of my sermon, I can fancy some one ready to cry—Stay! you have spoken too strongly.  That is not the key-note of the whole Old Testament.  There are words in it of quite a different note—words which complain to God that the good are not rewarded, and the wicked are not punished: as for instance, when the Psalmist says how the ungodly men of this evil world are filled with God’s hid treasure, and how they have children at their desire, and leave the rest of their substance for their babes.  And again, “I was envious at the foolish, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.  For there are no bands in their death; but their strength is firm.  They are not in trouble as other men; neither are they plagued like other men. . . .  They set their mouth against the heavens, and their tongue walketh through the earth.  Therefore his people return hither; and waters of a full cup are wrung out to them.  And they say, How doth God know? and is there knowledge in the most High?”  And though the Psalmist says that such persons will come to a sudden and fearful end, yet he confesses that so long as they live they have prospered, while he had been punished all day long, and chastened every morning.  And do we not know that so it is?  Is it not obvious now, and has it not been notorious in every country, and in all times, that so it is?  Do not good men often lead lives of poverty and affliction?  Do not men make large fortunes, or rise to fame and power, by base and wicked means? and do not those same men often enough die in their beds, and leave children behind them, and found families, who prosper for generations after they are dead?  How were they recompensed in the earth?  Now this is one of the puzzles of life, which tries a man’s faith in God, as it tried the psalmists and prophets in old time.  But that the text speaks truth I do not doubt.  I believe that the prosperous bad man is recompensed in the earth—is punished in this life—often with the most terrible of all punishments—Impunity; the not being punished at all; which is the worst thing in this life which can happen to a sinner.  But I am not going to speak of that, but rather of the first part of the text, “The righteous shall be recompensed in the earth.”

Now is not the answer to the puzzle this: That God is impartial; that He is no respecter of persons, but causing His sun to shine on the evil and on the good, and His rain to fall on the just and on the unjust; and so rewarding every man according to his work, paying him for all work done, of whatever kind it may be?  Some work for this world, which we do see, and God gives them what they earn in this life; some work for the world above, which we cannot see, and God gives them what they earn in this life, for ever and ever likewise.  If a man wishes for treasure on earth, he can have it if he will, and enjoy it as long as it lasts.  If a man wishes for treasure in heaven, he can have it if he will, and enjoy it as long as it lasts.  God deals fairly with both, and pays both what they have earned.

Some set their hearts on this world; some want money, some want power, some want fame and admiration from their fellow-men, some want merely to amuse themselves.  Then they will have what they want if they will take the right way to get it.  If a man wishes to make a large fortune, and die rich, he will very probably succeed, if he will only follow diligently the laws and rules by which God has appointed that money should be made.  If a man longs for power and glory, and must needs be admired and obeyed by his fellow-men, he can have his wish, if he will go the right way to get what he longs for; especially in a free country like this, he will get most probably just as much of them as he deserves—that is, as much as he has talent and knowledge enough to earn.  So did the Pharisees in our Lord’s time.  They wanted power, fame, and money as religious leaders, and they knew how to get them as well as any men who ever lived; and they got them.  Our Lord did not deny that.  They had their reward, He said.  They succeeded—those old Pharisees—in being looked up to as the masters of the Jewish mob, and in crucifying our Lord Himself.  They had their reward; and so may you and I.  If we want any earthly thing, and have knowledge of the way to get it, and have ability and perseverance enough, then we shall very probably get it, and much good it will do us when we have got it after all.  We shall have had our treasure upon earth and our hearts likewise; and when we come to die we shall leave both our treasure and our hearts behind us, and the Lord have mercy on our souls.

But again, there are those, thank God, who have, or are at least trying to get, treasure in heaven, which they may carry away with them when they die, and keep for ever.  And who are they?  Those who are longing and trying to be true and to be good; who have seen how beautiful it is to be true and to be good; to know God and the will of God; to love God and the will of God; and therefore to copy His likeness and to do His will.  Those who long for sanctification, and who desire to be holy, even as their Father in heaven is holy, and perfect, even as their Father in heaven is perfect; and who therefore think, as St Paul bade them, of whatsoever things are just, true, pure, lovely, and of good report, if there be any true manhood, and if there be any just praise—in three words—who seek after whatsoever is true, beautiful, and good.  These are they that have treasure in heaven.  For what is really true, really beautiful, really good, is also really heavenly.  God alone is perfect, good, beautiful, and true; and heaven is heaven because it is filled with the glory of His goodness, His beauty, and His truth.  But wherever there is a soul on earth led by the Spirit of God, and filled by the Spirit of God with good and beautiful and true graces and inspirations, there is a soul which, as St Paul says, is sitting in heavenly places with Christ Jesus—a soul which is already in heaven though still on earth.  We confess it by our own words.  We speak of a heavenly character; we speak even of a heavenly countenance; and we speak right.  We see that that character, though it be still imperfect, and marred by human weaknesses, is already good with the goodness which comes down from heaven; and that that countenance, though it may be mean and plain, is already beautiful with the beauty which comes down from heaven.

But how are such souls recompensed in the earth?  Oh! my friends, is not a man recompensed in the earth whenever he can lift up his heart above the earth?—whenever he can lift up his heart unto the Lord, and behold His glory above all the earth?  Does not this earth look brighter to him then?  The world of man looks brighter to him, in spite of all its sins and sorrows, for he sees the Lord ruling it, the Lord forgiving it, the Lord saving it.  He sees, by the eye of faith, the Lord fulfilling His own promise—“where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them”; and he takes heart and hope for the poor earth, and says, The earth is not deserted; mankind is not without a Father, a Saviour, a Teacher, a King.  Bad men and bad spirits are not the masters of the world; and men are not as creeping things, as the fishes of the sea, which have no ruler over them.  For Christ has not left His church.  He reigns, and will reign, till He has put all enemies under His feet, and cast out of His kingdom all that offend, and whatsoever loveth and maketh a lie; and then the heavenly treasure will be the only treasure; for whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are true, pure, lovely, and of good report, if there be any valour, and if there be any praise, those things, and they alone, will be left in the kingdom of Christ and of God.  Is not that man recompensed in the earth?  Must he not rise each morning to go about his daily work with a more cheerful heart, saying, with Jeremiah, in like case, “Upon this I awaked, and beheld, and my sleep was sweet to me?”

Yes, I see in experience that the righteous man is recompensed in the earth, every day, and all day long.  In proportion as a man’s mind is heavenly, just so much will he enjoy this beautiful earth, and all that is therein.  I believe that if a man walks with God, then he can walk nowhither without seeing and hearing what the ungodly and bad man will never see and hear, because his eyes are blinded, and his heart hardened from thinking of himself, his own selfish wants, his own selfish sins.  Which, for instance, was the happier man—which the man who was the more recompensed in the earth this very day—the poor man who went for his Sunday walk into the country, thinking of little but the sins and the follies of the week past, and probably of the sins and the follies of the week to come; or the man who went with a clear conscience, and had the heart to thank God for the green grass, and the shining river, and the misty mountains sleeping far away, and notice the song of the birds, and the scent of the flowers, as a little child might do, and know that his Father in heaven had made all these?

Yes, my friends, Christ is very near us, though our eyes are holden by our own sins, and therefore we see Him not.  But just in proportion as a man walks with God, just in proportion as the eyes of his soul are opened by the Spirit of God, he recovers, I believe, the privilege which Adam lost when he fell.  He hears the Word of the Lord walking among the trees of the garden in the cool of the day; and instead of trying, like guilty Adam, to hide himself from his Maker, answers, with reverence and yet with joy, Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth.

Nay, I would go further still, and say, Is not the righteous man recompensed on the earth every time he hears a strain of noble music?  To him who has his treasure in heaven, music speaks about that treasure things far too deep for words.  Music speaks to him of whatsoever is just, true, pure, lovely, and of good report, of whatsoever is manful and ennobling, of whatsoever is worthy of praise and honour.  Music, to that man, speaks of a divine order and a divine proportion; of a divine harmony, through all the discords and confusions of men; of a divine melody, through all the cries and groans of sin and sorrow.  What says a wiser and a better man than I shall ever be, and that not of noble music, but of such as we may hear any day in any street?  “Even that vulgar music,” he says, “which makes one man merry, another mad, strikes in me a deep fit of devotion, and a profound contemplation of God, the first composer.  There is something more of divinity in it than the ear discovers.  It is an hieroglyphical and shadowed lesson of the whole world, and of the creatures of God.  Such a melody to the ear as the whole world, well understood, would afford to the understanding.”  That man, I insist, was indeed recompensed on the earth, when music, which is to the ungodly and unrighteous the most earthly of all arts, which to the heathens and the savages, to frivolous and profligate persons, only tempts to silly excitement or to brutal passion, was to him as the speech of angels, a remembrancer to him of that eternal and ever-present heaven, from which all beauty, truth, and goodness are shed forth over the universe, from the glory of the ever-blessed Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Does any one say—These things are too high for me; I cannot understand them?  My dear friends, are they not too high for me likewise?  Do you fancy that I understand them, though my reason, as well as Holy Scripture, tells me that they are true?  I understand them no more than I understand how I draw a single breath, or think a single thought.  But it is good for you, and for me, and for every man, now and then, to hear things which we do not understand; that so we may learn our own ignorance, and be lifted up above ourselves, and renounce our fancied worldly wisdom, and think within ourselves:—Would it not be wiser to confess ourselves fools, and take our Lord’s advice, and be converted, and become as little children?  For otherwise, our Lord says, we shall in nowise enter into this very kingdom of heaven of which I have been telling you.  For this is one of the things which God hides from the wise and prudent, and yet revealeth unto babes.  Yes, that is the way to understand all things, however deep—to become as little children.  A little child proves that all I say is true, and that it knows that all I say is true.  Though it cannot put its feelings into words, it acts on them by a mere instinct, which is the gift of God.  Why does a little child pick flowers?  Why does a little child dance when it hears a strain of music?  And deeper still, why does a little child know when it has done wrong?  Why does it love to hear of things beautiful and noble, and shrink from things foul and mean, if what I say is not true?  The child does so, because it is nearer heaven, not further off, than we grown folk.

Ah! that we would all lay to heart what one said of old, who walked with God:—

“Dear soul, could’st thou become a child,
Once more on earth, meek, undefiled,
Then Paradise were round thee here,
And God Himself for ever near.”

SERMON XXX.  THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN

Chapel Royal, St James’. 1873.

St. Matt. xxii. 2-7.  “The kingdom of heaven is like unto a certain king, which made a marriage for his son, and sent forth his servants to call them that were bidden to the wedding: and they would not come.  Again, he sent forth other servants, saying, Tell them which are bidden, Behold, I have prepared my dinner: my oxen and fatlings are killed, and all things are ready: come unto the marriage.  But they made light of it, and went their ways, one to his farm, another to his merchandise: And the remnant took his servants, and entreated them spitefully, and slew them.  But when the king heard thereof, he was wroth: and he sent forth his armies, and destroyed those murderers, and burned up their city.”

This parable, if we understand it aright, will help to teach us theology—that is, the knowledge of God, and of the character of God.  For it is a parable concerning the kingdom of heaven, and the laws and customs of the kingdom of heaven—that is, the spiritual and eternal laws by which God governs men.

Now, what any kingdom or government is like must needs depend on what the king or governor of it is like; at least if that king is all-powerful, and can do what he likes.  His laws will be like his character.  If he be good, he will make good laws.  If he be bad, he will make bad laws.  If he be harsh and cruel—if he be careless and indulgent—so will his laws be.  If he be loving and generous, delighting in seeing his subjects happy, then his laws will be so shaped that his subjects will be happy, if they obey those laws.  But also—and this is a very serious matter, and one to which foolish people in all ages have tried to shut their eyes, and false preachers in all ages have tried to blind men’s eyes—also, I say, if his laws be good, and bountiful, and sure to make men happy, then the good king will have those laws obeyed.  He will not be an indulgent king, for in his case to be indulgent will be cruelty, and nothing less.  The good king will not say,—I have given you laws by which you may live happy; but I do not care whether you obey them or not.  I have, as it were, set you up, in life, and given you advantages by which you may prosper if you use them; but I do not care whether you use them or not.  For to say that would be as much as to say that I do not care if you make yourselves miserable, and make others miserable likewise.  The good king will say,—You shall obey my laws, for they are for your good.  You shall use my gifts, for they are for your good.  And if you do not, I will punish you.  You shall respect my authority.  And if you do not—if you go too far, if you become wanton and cruel, and destroy your fellow-subjects unjustly off the face of the earth; then I will destroy you off the face of he earth, and burn up your city.  I will destroy any government or system of society which you set up in opposition to my good and just laws.  And if you merely despise the gifts, and refuse to use them—then I will cast you out of my kingdom, inside which is freedom and happiness, and light and knowledge, into the darkness outside, bound hand and foot, into the ignorance and brutal slavery which you have chosen, where you may reconsider yourself, weeping and gnashing your teeth as you discover what a fool you have been.

Our Lord’s parable has fulfilled itself again and again in history, and will fulfil itself as long as foolish and rebellious persons exist on earth.  This is one of the laws of the kingdom of heaven.  It must be so, for it arises by necessity out of the character of Christ, the king of heaven.—Infinite bounty and generosity; but if that bounty be despised and insulted, or still more, if it be outraged by wanton tyranny or cruelty, then—for the benefit of the rest of mankind—awful severity.  So it is, and so it must be; simply because God is good.