Parish Papers Part 6

The idea which many have formed of punishment is that of a mere arbitrary annexation of a certain amount of suffering in the next world to a certain amount of crime committed in this--so many stripes for so many sins; and, as if obvious injustice were inflicted on men, by threatening them with coming woe for present wickedness, they exclaim, "Surely such sins as these do not deserve such punishment as that!" But if sin itself, by an eternal moral necessity, carries with it its own punishment, even as the shadow accompanies the substance, then the real question in regard to the possible ending of future suffering is merged in the deeper one of the possible ending of future sin. And if so, what evidence have we from any one source to inspire the hope, that the man who enters the next world loving sin, and therefore suffering punishment as its necessary result, will ever cease to sin, and thereby cease to suffer? It must, remember, be admitted as an indisputable fact, that life eternal can only co-exist with a right state of the soul. "This _is_ life eternal, to know thee and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent." Up to the moment in which the spirit turns with filial confidence and obedience to G.o.d, there cannot be a cessation either in the curse that must rest upon enmity and disobedience, or in the pain which must be produced by so terrible a malady. Some time or other, be it near or remote, in one year or in a million, there must be repentance in the sinner, a turning away _from_ sin and _to_ G.o.d, as the only possible means of bridging over the otherwise impa.s.sable gulf that separates the bad from the good, or h.e.l.l from heaven. There is no salvation for man but from sin; there is no restoration for him but to love.

But if this change in the sinner is not accomplished in this world, what evidence have we that it can be accomplished in any place of even limited punishment? In what conceivable way, we ask with deepest awe, is a moral and responsible being, who ends this life and begins another at enmity to G.o.d, rejecting Christ, disbelieving the gospel, dead in trespa.s.ses and in sins, hateful and hating, selfish and vile,--in what way is he to be made holy after death, and before entering heaven, by a temporary discipline of mere suffering?

We are here considering the possible future of one only who knows the gospel of the grace of G.o.d, and we ask, what advantages will such an one possess elsewhere for the attainment of piety that are denied him here? If all that G.o.d has done to gain his heart has so far failed up till the hour of his death, that he is morally unfit by his habits or even desires for the society of G.o.d and His people, what appliances can we conceive of more likely to influence the will and gain the affections in a prison-house set apart for the reformation of the impenitent? Can the sinner expect to meet, in this supposed place of punishment and consequent reformation, more loving friends to win him by such solemn counsels and tender ministrations as earth did not afford? Does he antic.i.p.ate daily returning mercies and sources of enjoyment more rich and varied than those possessed here, in order to bring him back to G.o.d? Will he possess a healthier body, a happier home, holier society, a more beauteous world with fairer skies and brighter landscapes, or any of those innumerable blessings which have such a tendency to tame and soften the rudest nature? Shall means of grace be afforded more powerfully calculated to enlighten the mind, convince the understanding, influence the will, or draw the affections of the heart towards G.o.d? Shall Sabbaths of more peaceful rest dawn upon the troubled heart, or sacraments of more healing virtue be administered? Can retreats be secured where G.o.d's Word may be read and prayer enjoyed with more undisturbed repose? Will the gospel be preached more faithfully, and a people be found more loving and pious to a.s.semble for public or private worship? Can a Saviour be offered more able or willing to save, and the Spirit of G.o.d be poured down upon the burning soil in more plenteous or life-giving pentecostal showers? Is this how men picture to themselves the place in which they expect to atone for past sins by limited suffering? Impossible!

They are thinking of a world better and more glorious than the present;--not of a h.e.l.l, but of a heaven!

Even if such a place were prepared for the impenitent and wicked, what conceivable security is there that a new mind and spirit would be the necessary result of those new and enlarged benefactions? We must a.s.sume that the power of sinning remains, otherwise man's responsibility would cease, and punishment thereby become mere cruelty. If sin is thus possible, then why may not the sinner indulge there in the same selfishness, disobedience, and rebellion which characterised him here? Why may it not be with him as with many a man who loves sin in the low haunts of profligacy and crime, but loves it not the less when brought into circ.u.mstances of greater comfort and among society of greater G.o.dliness? But should it be otherwise, and the supposed place of future punishment have none of those advantages,--and we are forced by the necessity of the case to a.s.sume their absence, at least for a limited period, and to admit, in some form or other, the presence of a dread and mysterious sorrow,--we ask again, on what grounds is it concluded that this antic.i.p.ated punishment shall itself possess a healing virtue to produce, some time or other, that love to G.o.d which, up till the hour of death, has never been produced in the sinner? Men attach, perhaps, some omnipotent power to mere suffering, and imagine that if hatred to sin and love to G.o.d are all that is needed, then a short experience of the terrific consequences of a G.o.dless past must insure a G.o.dly future. Why do they think so? This is not the effect which mere punishment generally produces on human character. Its tendency is not to soften, but to harden the heart,--to fill it not with love, but with enmity. It cannot fail, indeed, to make the sufferer long for deliverance from the pain; but it does not follow that he thereby longs for deliverance from the sin which causes the pain, and for the possession of the good which alone can remove it. It is certainly not the case in this world, that bad men are always disposed to repent and turn to G.o.d in proportion as they suffer from their own wilfulness, and become poor from idleness, broken in health from dissipation, alienated from human hearts by their selfishness, or pa.s.s, with a constantly increasing anguish, through all the stages of outcasts from the family; dwellers among the profligate; companions in crime; occupiers of prisons; members of convict gangs, till the scaffold with its beam and drop ends the dreadful history. Such punishment as this, constantly d.o.g.g.i.ng the crime which at first created it and ever preserves it, only makes the heart harder, fans the pa.s.sions into a more volcanic fire, and possesses the soul with a more daring recklessness and wilder desperation. And arguing from this experience, to which men appeal, as if it was truer than the Word of G.o.d, what more special virtue will punishment have in the next world than in this? What tendency will there be in that long night of misery to inspire a man with the love of G.o.d, whose very character, and whose holy and righteous will, have annexed the suffering to the sin? If the sinner's character is not thereby reformed, and all the while he retains his responsibility,--as he must do on the a.s.sumption that reformation is possible,--and if he continues to choose sin with more diabolical hatred to the good, is it imagined that such a process as this, of continued sin accompanied by continued mental suffering, will at any period render him mere meet to enjoy the holiness of heaven than when he first departed from the world to enter upon his new and strange probation? Oh, the more we think of it, the darker does the history grow,--the faster does the descent of the evil spirit become, clown that pit which, from its very nature, seems to be bottomless! If means are discoverable there more suited to gain the end of moral regeneration than any which exist here, let them be pointed out. We have searched in vain to find them in the Word of G.o.d, or in the mind and history of man.

Making every allowance for the real difficulties which beset this question, and for the peculiar feelings, partly allowable, and largely the reverse, with which it is entertained, we have no doubt that many have been driven to the extreme of utter disbelief in the existence of any punishment by the bold and presumptuous manner in which they may have heard men consign all the heathen, and all Christendom, with the exception of a very few, to this awful doom. Infants even have not escaped the condemnation of some who, professing to have more orthodox faith than their neighbours, have really little or any faith at all in G.o.d, but utter mere words to which--in this case, fortunately for themselves--they attach no meaning. For if they did, what would life be to them, believing that it was possible for their babe, because of Adam's sin, to be cast for all eternity into literal fire? But while we have perfect confidence in the salvation of infants, and of many more, we dare not condemn any. The living G.o.d, who alone knows each man, may be dealing in ways beyond our comprehension with the most lonely savage, whose inmost spirit He ever sees, and who is of more awful value in His sight than all the stars of the sky. _How_ the living and omniscient Spirit of G.o.d has access to the inner spirit of man, I neither know nor could perhaps understand if it were revealed; nor how He can teach that spirit without the gospel or the ordinary means of grace, so as to bring it under law to G.o.d. But when I saw a child (Laura Bridgman) who was born deaf, dumb, and blind, marvellously educated by the genius and wisdom of her remarkable instructor, I could not but feel how grand ends might be accomplished in the human soul by means which before this experience I would have p.r.o.nounced as impossible;--and it suggested also to me how a poor heathen even, like that blind girl, might be really taught by another person, and be receiving light within, though for a time utterly ignorant of either the name, the character, or the purposes of the unseen and unheard teacher, who yet in his own way gradually was training his scholar for fellowship with G.o.d and man.[A] We ignorant and sinful men must confine our judgments as regards others to what is right or wrong in their actions, and that solely to guide ourselves in our personal duties towards G.o.d and one another. But as to deciding the eternal fate of any man, that, thank G.o.d! can be done only by Him to whom all men belong. When disposed to occupy the throne of the judge, and to scrutinise human character with a jealous regard for the righteousness of G.o.d, let us at once do so by summoning ourselves to the bar!

[Footnote A: As an ill.u.s.tration of this, see a remarkable account of a North American Indian, narrated by Brainerd in his Diary, date September 21, 1745.]

This, however, amidst all perplexities we may certainly rely upon with perfect confidence, that whatever is finally decided, and whatever punishment is finally awarded to any, will be in accordance with the perfect will of "G.o.d, whose name is love;" so that all the true and just, the good and loving in the universe, will, when they know all the grounds of His judgment, sympathise with their whole soul in His decisions, and see His glory revealed in them. We also know that there will be "a mult.i.tude greater than any man can number" in G.o.d's family; that they will be gathered "out of every nation, kindred, and tongue;"

and this we may hope for, that the number of the lost may be to those who are saved fewer far than the number of those in penal settlements and prisons are to the inhabitants of a well-ordered and Christian kingdom.

But not only are our thoughts of future punishment naturally darkened into deepest gloom by the a.s.sumed mult.i.tudes of those who will suffer, but also by the nature of those sufferings which we also a.s.sume are to be a.s.signed to them. We literally interpret all those images of unquenchable fire and the undying worm, borrowed from the constant conflagrations and corruptions of the offal and carcases of dead animals in the valley of Hinnom, (or Gaienna,) near Jerusalem, and also the obviously metaphorical language used in the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, as if necessarily teaching that worms or fire would be employed to torture for all eternity the immortal bodies of the lost. But what if there is to be no such bodily pain? though possibly there may be some kind of physical suffering immediately produced by sin there as well as here. What if the wicked shall be punished only by permitting them to "eat the fruit of their own way, and to be filled with their own devices?" What if, instead of the wrath of G.o.d being poured upon them to the utmost, it will be inflicted in the least _possible_ measure, and only in the way of natural consequence? What if the sin which makes the h.e.l.l hereafter, is, in spite of all its suffering, loved, clung to, even as the sin is which makes the h.e.l.l now? Nay, what if every gift of G.o.d, and every capacity for perverting His gifts, are retained; and if the sinner shall suffer only from that which he himself _chooses_ for ever, and for ever determines to possess? I do not say that it must be so; but if it is so, then might a h.e.l.l of unbridled self-indulgence be preferred then, as it is by many now, to a heaven whose blessedness consisted in perfect holiness, and the possession of the love of G.o.d in Christ, for ever and ever. Let, then, the fairest star be selected, like a beauteous island in the vast and sh.o.r.eless sea of the azure heavens, as the future home of the criminals from the earth; and let them possess in this material paradise whatever they most love, and all that it is _possible_ for G.o.d to bestow; let them be endowed with undying bodies, and with minds which shall for ever retain their intellectual powers; let them no more be "plagued with religion;" let no Saviour ever intrude His claims upon them, no Holy Spirit disturb them, no G.o.d reveal Himself supernaturally to them; let no Sabbath ever dawn upon them, no saint ever live among them, no prayer ever be heard within their borders; but let human beings exist there for ever, smitten only by the leprosy of hatred to G.o.d, and with utter selfishness as its all-prevailing and eternal purpose; then, as sure as the law of righteousness exists, on which rests the throne of G.o.d and the government of the universe, a society so const.i.tuted must work out for itself a h.e.l.l of solitary and bitter suffering, to which no limit can be a.s.signed except the capacity of a finite nature. Alas!

the spirit that is without love to its G.o.d or to its neighbour is already possessed by a power which must at last create for its own self-torment a worm, that will never die, and a flame that can never more be quenched!

And yet, when forced to come to this conclusion, especially after reading the Scriptures, which in our judgment but confirm it, and give it the sanction of Divine authority, who can, even then, with his human heart silence a "timid voice which asks in whispers" many questions suggestive of what would appear to be the brighter hope?

"Who can limit" (in some such form might those questionings be put) "the resources of G.o.d's infinite love and wisdom? May there not be found means, though yet to us unknown, and as yet unrevealed, by which the good shall ultimately triumph over the evil,--when every being whom G.o.d has originally made capable of love and joy will at last fulfil His glorious purpose,--when every sheep lost to the Shepherd will be found, and brought with rejoicing back to the fold,--when every lost piece of money with the King's image, defaced, yet not destroyed, will be recovered from the dust and restored to the King's treasury,--and when every prodigal, weary of his wanderings, convinced at last, through self-inflicted misery, of his folly, and remembering a Father, will return to that bosom which never can reject a child seeking there his rest and refuge,--until, finally, there shall not be throughout creation even one sinner, but a mighty family of immortal beings, who, after their terrible experience of the reign of self, shall freely and joyfully accept of the reign of the blessed and loving G.o.d? If it is _possible_, must it not be so? May we not, in our darkness and difficulty, rely upon One who, knowing man's fallen condition, yet said, Increase, and multiply, and replenish the earth?

upon One who declared it to be a legitimate source of joy to every mother that a child was born to the world? upon One whose love to all whom He has made is to our love as the light of the mighty sun to a fire-fly's spark wandering in darkness?"

"Oh, yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood

"That nothing walks with aimless feet; That not one life shall be destroy'd, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When G.o.d hath made the pile complete:

"That not a worm is chosen in vain; That not a moth with vain desire Is shrivell'd in a pent-up fire, Or but subserves another's gain.

"So runs my dream: but what am I?

An infant crying in the night: An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry.

"I falter where I firmly trod; And falling with my weight of cares Upon the great world's altar stairs, That slope through darkness up to G.o.d,

"I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope And gather dust and chaff, and call To what I feel is Lord of all, And faintly trust the larger hope."

With deep sympathy for all who thus feel the weight and pain of the subject, and who hope against hope, we ourselves are compelled to abide in our first faith. We cannot forget that Jesus Christ, the Son of G.o.d and the Son of man, who was perfect love, truth, and life, has neither Himself, nor through His apostles, given us by one word the slightest ground for hoping that any man who leaves this world an enemy to G.o.d will ever repent and become a friend of G.o.d in the next. The whole teaching of Scripture is one with what prudence and principle would dictate:--Believe in Jesus; _now or never!_

Hear, in conclusion, G.o.d's Word:--"For G.o.d so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.... He that believeth on him is not condemned; but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of G.o.d. And this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil.... He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life; and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of G.o.d abideth on him."

Hebrews ii. 1, 3:--"Therefore we ought to give the more earnest heed to the things which we have heard, lest at any time we should let them slip.... How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation; which at the first began to be spoken by the Lord, and was confirmed unto us by them that heard him."

WHAT AFTER DEATH?

It would be very difficult, I think, to put a more serious question to ourselves than this, _What is to become of its after death_?

All of us, I daresay, know from experience what is meant by thoughtlessness or indifference about our state for ever. There are, no doubt, some who, from having had a G.o.dly upbringing in their youth, or at least religious instruction, have always thought more or less about what would become of their souls. Perhaps these thoughts made them uneasy, afraid, or anxious; but still they were often in their mind, especially in times of sickness, or when death came near their doors, or any event occurred which obliged them to think of eternity, and of what might happen to themselves if they were to die suddenly, and appear before G.o.d. But there are others, again, who seem never at any time to have had a serious thought about their life after death.

They have, perhaps, not had the same advantage with those I have been speaking of, but from infancy have lived among worldly-minded people, who gave the impression, by their conversation and general conduct, on week-days and Sundays, that this world was everything, and the next world nothing; that this world alone was real; and that man's chief end was to labour in it, and for it alone, to make money in it, be happy in it, get everything for self out of it, and, as a matter of hard necessity, at last die in it, and go from it--Whither? Ah! who could tell _that?_--who ever thought of _that?_ To them it seemed that death ended all that was reality, and began all that was visionary.

But whether early education is to blame, certain it is that many people do come to this state. They seem stoneblind to the future. Not one ray of light gets an entrance into their spirits from the great and eternal world, on whose confines they every moment live. They think, fear, hope, rejoice, plan, and purpose; but always about this world,--never about the other! To rise in the morning; to be occupied during the day; to buy and sell, and get gain; to talk on politics or trade; to gossip about people, and all they speak or do; to marry or give in marriage; to have this meeting or that parting; to give a feast or partake of one; to fear sickness, and to keep it off; or to be sick, and to try and get better:--all this sort of life, down to its veriest trifles, they understand and sympathise with, and busy themselves about. But what of G.o.d and Christ?--of eternal joy or sorrow?--of how a man should live to G.o.d, please Him, enjoy Him, love Him, and walk daily in fellowship with Him? What of such questions as,--What shall become of us in eternity? What shall we do to be saved? How shall we obtain life eternal? How shall we fulfil the end of our being? All this--oh, strange mystery!--has no interest to them.

These thoughts, or any like these, never cross their mind, perhaps, from morning till night, or from the first till the last day of the year. They may, perhaps, have heard these words, read them in books, or heard ministers speak them from the pulpit on Sunday, and they know that the words have to do with what they call "religion," but never think they have to do with what awfully concerns themselves! They are words, but not about realities; or if they express realities, yet realities which belong to some world of mist, and cloud, and darkness, far, far away--one not nearly so real as this world of their own, made up of fields and barns, streets and shops, sea and ships, friends and action! But what, let me ask, separates us from that world which we think to be so very far off--so very unreal? The thin coat of an artery! No more! Let the thin pipe burst through which our life-blood is now coursing in the full play of health, and where then will our present world, now so very real, be to us? In a single second it will have vanished for ever from our grasp, like something we clutch at in the visions of the night. And where then will that other world be which to many is now so dim and unreal as not to be worth thinking about? We, the same living persons, will be in it--in the midst of all its realities; and with these we shall have to do, and with these only, for ever and ever.

But many people do not _wish_ to think about the unseen future. It is not so much that _no_ thoughts about it intrude themselves upon their minds, as that all such thoughts are deliberately banished. It is with the eternal future as with anything which here gives them pain,--they "hate to think about it." This, of course, arises from the suspicion, or rather the conviction, that it cannot be a good future to them.

They have read enough about it from the Bible to make it alarming. At all events, they have no security for its being to them as happy as the present; and so, whether from a fearful looking for of judgment, because of their sins, or from ignorance of the means of salvation, or from unbelief in the good-will of G.o.d as ready to save them, the result is, that they voluntarily shut their eyes to, and banish all thought of, eternity. It pains them--it agonises them--to put the question, "What is to become of me when I die?" And the more pain the question gives them, the more they fly to the world, and occupy their minds with its society, its amus.e.m.e.nts, and even its dissipation and debaucheries, in order to banish care and s.n.a.t.c.h a fleeting joy. O my brother, if you so act, from my soul I feel for you and pity you! For the sick-bed is coming, and you may be compelled to think there; and if so, you are treasuring up tenfold agony for yourself, by your present off-putting apathy and wilful thoughtlessness. And should you manage, even in the time of sickness, and up to the very hour of death, to shut out the future from your mind; should long and inveterate habit enable you to succeed in the terrible, suicidal experiment, so that you shall die as you have lived--fearing nothing, because believing nothing,--can you avoid entering the other world?

Can you prevent a meeting between yourself and your G.o.d; or silence an accusing conscience for ever; or hinder Christ from coming to judge the world; or fly from the judgment-seat, and by any possibility delay or prevent a minute examination of your life; or stay the sentence which the omniscient and holy Judge shall p.r.o.nounce upon you? And if you cannot do this,--and if, rather, every power, faculty, and emotion of your heart and soul must one day be roused to the intensest pitch of earnestness about your eternal destiny,--do you not think it wise, my brother, to think about all this now?--_now_, when there is a remedy, rather than _then_, when there is none?

This suggests another reason why possibly you hate to think about the future. Not only are you conscious of want of any preparedness for it, but you do not see how it can be much better with you. You have, in a word, lost confidence in G.o.d--have no faith in His good-will to _you_.

You think of Him--if you think of Him at all--as one who watches you with a jealous or angry eye; who has no wish that you should be better or happier than you are; or who, if He can save you, will not; or who, if He will, offers to do so only on such hard and impossible terms as to make it practically the same as if there was no salvation for _you_. In one word, you suspect G.o.d hates you, or at least is indifferent to you--if, indeed, He knows anything at all about you, which you are not quite sure of! It is very shocking to write such things: but it is much more shocking that any one should think or believe such things; for he who so thinks and believes is as yet profoundly ignorant of G.o.d. What is called G.o.d, is as unlike Him who is the living and true G.o.d as is any hideous idol in a heathen temple.

But this ignorance breeds fear--and fear, hate--and hate increases the fear, until the future, in which this G.o.d must be met, is put away as a horrible thing, or never thought of at all.

But, my brother, why should you thus think of G.o.d, and so fear to think of the future? Read only what the Bible says of Him, and learn what true Christians know of Him, and listen honestly to how your own conscience responds to all you hear about Him, and then consider whether you can conceive of one more glorious in his character, or more worthy of your love. Peruse the history of Jesus Christ, and tell me anything He ever said or did calculated to fill your heart with fear or hate towards Him,--and remember, that he who sees Him sees the Father. Think of all Jesus suffered as our atoning Saviour, and all "to bring us to G.o.d." Think of all G.o.d has promised to those who will only trust Him through Jesus,--the pardon of all sin, and the gift of a new heart; with everything which can do them good, or make them happy; and say, How can this make you dislike G.o.d? Think of all He has given you since you were born,--friends and relations, health of body, powers of mind, much time, many happy days, innumerable mercies and sources of enjoyment; think how liberally, ungrudgingly, He has opened His hand; think what patience, forbearance, kindness, He has shewn, and what the eternal future has in store for all who love Him; and tell me, What has _He_ done to make you dislike Him? Reflect on what He _could_ have done and could do, if He disliked you as you dislike Him, and say, How can you continue in your enmity? O my brother, "Only believe!" Believe that "G.o.d _is_ love." Believe that "in this is manifested the love of G.o.d, that He gave His Son to be a propitiation for our sins." Believe that He willeth not that any should perish,--that He has no pleasure in the death of sinners,--that He is ready to forgive,--that this is the record, that "G.o.d hath given eternal life." Believe--trust in G.o.d for the good, the whole good, the most perfect good, that of a child's heart and sincere love towards Him, which He seeks in you--trust G.o.d for this through faith in Christ, and in the mighty power of that Spirit who is love; and depend upon it, when you _know G.o.d_, and see how excellent He is, and understand His love to you, and what He is willing to make you, and to give you, and, above all, when you know what _He himself will be to you_ for ever, you surely cannot choose but Him! and "_there is no fear in love; because fear hath torment!_"

MOMENTS IN LIFE.

By moments in life, I mean certain periods which occur more or less frequently in our history,--when the spirit in which we then live, the step we then take, the word we then utter, or what we at that moment think, resolve, accept, reject, do, or do not, may give a complexion to our whole future being both here and hereafter.

Let me notice one or two features which characterise those moments.

They may, for example, be very brief. Napoleon once remarked, that there was a crisis in every battle, when ten minutes generally determined the victory on one side or other. Yet on the transactions of those few minutes the fate of empires may hang, and on the single word of command, rapidly spoken amidst the roar of cannon and the crash of arms, the destinies of the human race be affected. Men in public life, who are compelled every day to decide on matters of importance, appreciate the value of minutes, and estimate the necessity of s.n.a.t.c.hing them as they pa.s.s with promptness and decision;--of "taking advantage of the chance," as they say, knowing well that if that moment is allowed to pa.s.s, "the chance" it brings is gone for ever; that whatever their hand "finds to do" must be done then or never. The results to them of what they decide at that moment may be incalculable. What is then done may never be undone; yet not another second is added to the time given them for action. Within the germ of that brief moment of life is contained the future tree of many branches and of much fruit.

What a brief moment, indeed, in our endless life is the whole period even of the longest life on earth! It is compared to a vapour, which appeareth for a short time, and then vanisheth away; to "a watch in the night,"--"a tale that is told." And if we but consider how nearly a third portion of our threescore years and ten is necessarily spent in sleep; and add to this the years spent during infancy while preparing for labour; during old age, when our labours are well-nigh past; and many more consumed in adorning and supporting or giving rest to the body; and then if, after summing up those years, we deduct what remains of time at the disposal of the oldest man for the formation of active thought and the improvement of his spiritual being, oh! how brief is the whole period of our mortal life, when longest, though its transactions are to us fraught with endless and awful consequences!

Another characteristic of those moments in life is the silence with which they may come and pa.s.s away. No "sign" may be given to indicate their importance to us. They do not announce their approach with the sound of a trumpet, nor demand with a voice of thunder our immediate and solemn attention to their interests; but stealthily, quietly, with noiseless tread like spirits from another world, they come to us, put their question, speak the word, and vanish to heaven with our reply.

In after years, possibly, with "the long results of time" to guide us upward as by a stream to the tiny threads of this fountain of life and action, we may be able in a greater degree to realise of what tremendous importance they were to us. "Had we only known this at the time!" we exclaim, as we revolve those memories, and think of all we would have said or done;--"had we only known!" But it is not G.o.d's will that we should know how much of the future is involved in the present, or how all we shall be is determined by what we may resolve to be or do at any particular moment. Such a revelation would paralyse all effort, and destroy the mainspring of all right action. Sight would thus be subst.i.tuted for faith; the fear of evil consequences for the fear of evil; and the love of future benefits for the love of present duty. G.o.d will have us rather cultivate habitually a right spirit at each moment, so as to be able to act rightly when the all-important moment comes, whether we then discover its importance or not. Let us not be surprised, then, if G.o.d comes to us, not in the strong wind, the earthquake, or the fire, but only in the still small voice which speaks to the heart or to the conscience, demanding the conduct which becomes us as responsible beings and as obedient children.

But let me ill.u.s.trate these remarks by a few examples of "moments in life," and such as must come to us all.

It is a solemn "moment in life" when the glad tidings of the love of G.o.d in Christ Jesus are heard and understood. Remember that we are saved by "the truth;" born again "of the Word;" sanctified "by the truth." To receive the truth of G.o.d, then, as a living power into the mind and conscience, is of infinite importance to us. Now, while G.o.d's truth comes to us "at various times and in diverse manners," there are moments in life when we cannot choose but feel as if it was addressing our inner spirit as it never did before, and earnestly knocking for admission. The circ.u.mstances in which this appeal is made may be what are called commonplace; such as when hearing a sermon preached from the pulpit, when reading a book by the fireside, or when conversing for a few minutes with an acquaintance; yet at such times truth expressed in a single sentence, or in a few words, may search our spirits, and gaze on us with a solemn look, saying, "Thou art the man I am in search of!" But, as it sometimes happens, the circ.u.mstances in which we are thus arrested by the truth, and are compelled to listen to it for weal or woe, may be peculiarly impressive; as when we are ourselves in sickness or danger, or when addressed by a parent or dear friend on their dying bed, or when in deep family distress, or when standing beside the grave that conceals our best earthly treasure from our sight. At such moments the voice of G.o.d's Spirit is awfully solemn as He cries, "Now is the day of salvation;" "To-day, if ye will hear His voice, harden not your hearts;" "Believe and live."

These moments may be very brief. The crisis of the battle between G.o.d and self, right and wrong, truth and falsehood, may be concentrated into a few minutes. But time sufficient is, nevertheless, given wherein to test our _truthfulness_, the soil in which truth grows, the mirror that reflects its beams; time sufficient is given to say Yes or No to that G.o.d who claims our faith and love. Truth comes with authority and majesty as an amba.s.sador from the living G.o.d, and with clear voice, pure eye, and an arm omnipotent to save, offers to give light, life, and liberty to the captive spirit. But we may evade his bright glance, and close our ears to his voice, and refuse to consider his claims, and deal falsely with his arguments; we may reject his offers, and, shrinking back from his touch and his helping hand, retire into the gloom of self-satisfied pride, preferring the darkness to the light; or we may make merry with Heaven's amba.s.sador, and mock him as they did the prophet of old; or cry out, "Away with him!" as the world cried to the Lord of light and life. And what if the second amba.s.sador never comes again with such pressing earnestness, but pa.s.ses by the door once so rudely closed against him, and will knock no more? Or, though he may in mercy return again and again, what if the eye gets blinded by the very light which it rejects? and the ear becomes so familiar with the voice, that it attracts attention no more than the winds that beat upon the wall; and the heart becomes so hardened as to be unimpressible, until the dread sentence is at last pa.s.sed,--"Because I have called, and ye refused; I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded; but ye have set at nought all my counsel, and would none of my reproof: I also will laugh at your calamity; I will mock when your fear cometh; when your fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind; when distress and anguish cometh upon you. Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me: for that they _hated_ knowledge, and _did not choose_ the fear of the Lord: they would none of my counsel: they despised all my reproof.

Therefore shall they eat of the fruit of their own way, and be filled with their own devices."

A young man came to Jesus seeking eternal life. "Jesus, looking on him, loved him," and answered his prayers by teaching him how eternal life could alone be attained. But the young man went away sorrowful, because he had much riches. What a history was contained in that brief moment of his life!

Again, young King Agrippa, along with the young Bernice, hear a sermon from Paul the prisoner. The outward picture presented to the eye on that day had nothing more remarkable or peculiar about it than has been witnessed a thousand times before and since. Those royal personages entered "the place of hearing" with "great pomp,"

accompanied by "the chief captains and princ.i.p.al men of the city." And before them appeared an almost unknown prisoner, upon whom his own nation, including "the chief priests and elders from Jerusalem,"

demanded the judgment of death to be pa.s.sed. That prisoner, "in bodily presence weak and contemptible," was however "permitted to speak for himself;" and verily he did speak! He spoke of G.o.d and Christ; of repentance and the new life; and of his own glorious commission to "open the eyes" of men, "to turn them from darkness to light, from the power of Satan unto G.o.d, that they might receive the forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them that are sanctified through faith in Jesus." What a revelation was this from G.o.d to man! The voice which spoke from Sinai and through the prophets, the voice of Him who is truth and love, spoke at that moment of life through Paul to those royal hearers, and to the captains and princ.i.p.al men. But Agrippa, with a sneer or with some conviction of the truth, replied, "Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian." Unlike St Paul himself, when the Lord spoke to him on his way to Damascus, Agrippa was disobedient to the heavenly vision. And so the sermon ended; the gay mult.i.tude dispersed; the place of hearing was left in silence, and echoed only the midnight winds or the beat of the sea-wave on the neighbouring sh.o.r.e. St Paul retired to his cell; Agrippa, Festus, and Bernice, to their chambers of rest, to sleep and dream by night, as they slept and dreamt by day. But they never heard the apostle preach again! It was their first and last sermon; that moment in their life came and pa.s.sed, but never returned. Like two ships which meet at midnight on a moonlit sea, those two persons, the prisoner and the king, spoke, then each pa.s.sed into the darkness, and onward on their voyage to their several ports, but never met again! Oh, how awful are such moments when truth reveals herself to the responsible spirit of man! And so, my reader, does it ofttimes happen between thee and G.o.d's Spirit. Let me beseech of thee to "redeem the time," to know this "the day of _thy_ visitation," and to hear and believe "the word of the Lord."