The Life of Duty Part 6

(Seventeenth Sunday after Trinity.)

EPHESIANS iv. 1.

"The prisoner of the Lord."

This is what Paul the aged called himself in writing to the Ephesians.

He had appealed unto Caesar, and he was a captive at Rome. But he does not style himself Caesar's prisoner, but the prisoner of the Lord, whose he was, and whom he served. Let us think first of the place and manner of St. Paul's imprisonment. The place was Rome, the capital of the world. A city full of glorious memories of the past, and famous in the present for art, and eloquence, and learning. Its soldiers could boast that they had conquered the world, and could point out the tombs of Pompey and of many another hero along the Appian Way. Its streets had been trodden by some of the greatest of poets, and its Senate-House had echoed with the burning words of the first orators of the world.

Rome was full of contrasts, wealth and beggary, beauty and squalor, the palace of Caesar, and the haunt of vice and shame, were close together.

The city was ruled over by a cruel tyrant, at once a hypocrite and a monster of iniquity.

It was in such a place, so glorious and so shameful, that S. Paul was a prisoner. He was not, however, confined in a dungeon. By the favour of the Praefect of the Praetorian Guard, whose duty it was to take charge of all prisoners awaiting trial before the Emperor, the Apostle was allowed to live in a hired house of his own, to have free access to such friends as he had, and to preach the Gospel freely to those who would hear him. But still S. Paul was a prisoner. After the Roman fashion, he was chained to a soldier, and at night probably two soldiers were linked to him. Perhaps no such wonderful sermons have ever since been preached as those spoken by S. Paul, "the prisoner of the Lord." We can fancy the old man, grey-haired, and bent with suffering, and want, and hardship, bearing on his wrinkled face and scarred body those marks of the Lord Jesus, of which he tells us, and yet brave, unflinching as ever. We can picture him preaching the Gospel of Jesus with the same boldness in his bonds as when at freedom, glorying in the cross of his Master, and rejoicing that he is permitted to enter into the fellowship of His sufferings. We can fancy even the stern Roman soldier watching with admiration, as the old man exhorts his hearers to show themselves good soldiers of Jesus Christ, to fight the good fight, to take unto them the whole armour of G.o.d. Whilst many a Christian's heart must have swelled with emotion as the fettered hands were lifted in earnest exhortation, and the blessing was given amid the clanking of the Apostle's chains. And thus all the hearers of S. Paul must have been struck with the wonderful faith and patience of the man; just as we are struck when we read his words to-day. Although he was an exile, a prisoner, waiting for a trial where he would have little chance of justice, knowing that the sword hung above his head ready to fall at any moment, S. Paul utters no complaint, no murmur of discontent. On the contrary, he bids his hearers rejoice in the Lord alway; he himself thanked G.o.d, and took courage; he tells his disciples that he has learnt in whatsoever state he is, to be content. He is poor, yet making many rich. He has nothing, yet possesses all things.

He has that peace of G.o.d which pa.s.seth all understanding, that good part which shall not be taken away. The heathen tyrant can make him a prisoner, but his chains cannot keep him from the glorious freedom of the sons of G.o.d. Persecution may drive him from his home, but nothing can rob him of his home eternal in the Heavens. The sword of the Roman may slay him, but to him to die is gain, and he is ready to be offered.

He has suffered want, and sorrow, and loss; he has endured perils by land and by sea, by robbers, by shipwreck, by the heathen, and by his own countrymen, but for this S. Paul cares not, he has kept the faith, he has run the race set before him, looking unto Jesus, and he knows that the crown of glory is laid up for him. A great preacher of our day tells us how they brought the news to Athens that the battle of Marathon was won. The swiftest runner had come panting and exhausted with the glad tidings of victory, and worn out with exertion, he dropped, and died on the threshold of the first house he reached, sobbing out with dying breath the words--"Farewell, and rejoice ye, we, too, rejoice." So the Apostle, the prisoner of the Lord, dying daily, and expecting each hour to be his last, tells the glad tidings of Christ's victory over sin and death, and whispers with his dying breath, "rejoice." It is no wonder that such a preacher should have produced marvellous results, and should have begotten many spiritual children, as he tells us, in his bonds. Luke, his fellow traveller through so many varied scenes, was there to comfort Paul the aged in his bonds. Tychicus, who had formerly accompanied him from Corinth to Ephesus, was ready to carry the Apostle's letters to the Churches; and Mark, who had once failed in his ministry, was once more restored to the side of his great teacher. Others, too, were with him, but none perhaps was dearer to S. Paul than a certain slave, Onesimus, who had fled from his master, Philemon, in Colossae. This runaway slave had found his way to Rome, and here probably some one, who had seen him in the house of his Christian master, took pity on the fugitive, and brought him to S. Paul. How tenderly the prisoner of the Lord dealt with the erring slave we can well imagine, as we read the loving words which the Apostle wrote in his Epistle to Philemon. Then, too, we can fancy the prisoner of the Lord talking to his jailor, the stern Roman soldier, who was chained to him night and day. Often in the long night watches, when the care of all the Churches kept S. Paul from sleep, he must have conversed with the warrior so closely linked to him. I think we may believe that a yet closer link than that of the iron chain at last united the prisoner and the guard. I think that the earnest prayers, and burning words, of that brave soldier of Jesus Christ, must have led the soldier of Caesar to take up his cross, and follow Jesus.

And now what lesson can we learn from the prison-house at Rome? We can learn this, that this world in which we live is in one sense a prison-house to all. It is a prison-house of hard work. In our great cities the roar of traffic, the rattle of machinery, the shriek of the steam-whistle, the eager crowds flocking to office and bank and exchange all mean one thing--_work_. Every man's talk is of business; he is in the prison-house, and he is chained to his work. Next, this world is a prison-house of _sorrow and trial_. Every one who has lived any time in the world can show you the marks of his chain. Every one whom we meet is wearing a crown of thorns. It is hidden under the scanty white locks of the old, and the sunny tresses of youth. It is covered by the soldier's helmet, or the peer's coronet, or the widow's cap; but the crown of thorns is there. Specially is this world a prison-house to those who strive to do their duty, and help their fellow men. For them in all ages there have been prison bars, and chains of persecution. Joseph resists temptation, and he is cast into prison. But the iron of his chain made his soul as iron, and changed the spoiled darling of his father into the wise ruler of Egypt. He was the prisoner of the Lord, and this suffering was the way to glory.

Truly says a great poet (Milton), "who best can suffer, best can do."

If we would look on some of the greatest teachers, philosophers, and benefactors of mankind, we must look for them in a prison-house.

Socrates, when seventy-two years old, was a prisoner, and condemned to drink poison, because he taught higher lessons than the mob could understand. He died discussing the immorality of the soul, and his farewell to his judges was full of quiet dignity. "It is now time," he said, "that we depart--I to die, you to live; but which has the better destiny is unknown to all, except to G.o.d." Bruno was burnt at Rome, because he exposed the false philosophy of the day. When Galileo, an old man of seventy, taught the truth about the earth's motion, they cast him into the dungeons of the Inquisition, and after death the Pope refused a tomb for his body. And so for many others who dared to do their duty and to speak the truth,--reformers in religion, in science, in politics,--there was a prison-house, there was a chain. But the stone walls could not confine the mind; the iron chain could not bind the truth. Some of the most glorious works in literature were composed in prison. The prison-house at Rome has given us some of those Epistles of S. Paul which have gone far to convert the world; and the finest allegory in the English language was written in Bedford gaol.

"If we suffer for righteousness' sake, happy are we." If we are the prisoners of the Lord, let us welcome the chain of trial, of sorrow, of self-denial, of persecution. There are prisoners who are not the Lord's. There are some fast bound in the misery and iron of bad habits, and habitual sin. These are lying in the condemned cell, bound hand and foot with the devil's chain. The drunkard, the impure man, the unbeliever, these are prisoners, but not the Lord's. I do not speak now of them. I speak to you, my brothers, who are trying to live a G.o.dly and a Christian life, the life of duty. And I tell you that you will often find this life a prison-house, where you must give up your own will, deny yourselves, learn to endure hardness, and to bear the chain which suffering, or neglect, or ignorance put upon you. If you are indeed the prisoners of the _Lord_, the iron of your chain will make you brave to suffer and be strong. The same hope which sustained Paul the aged long ago will sustain you now; the glorious certainty that after a while the Lord looseth men out of prison, and receives them into the glorious liberty of the sons of G.o.d.

SERMON LIII.

FIRM TO THE END.

(Eighteenth Sunday after Trinity.)

1 COR. i. 8.

"Who also shall confirm you unto the end."

Steadfastness is one of the most important characteristics of a Christian. Perhaps you will tell me that love, and self-denial, and patience, and faith are the chief marks of Christ's followers. And I answer that these things are useless without steadfastness. It will not avail us to be very loving, and self-sacrificing, and patient, and trustful for a little while, and then to fall away, and be selfish, and impatient, and faithless. It is not the best regiment of soldiers which makes the most headlong charge, but which can _stand firm_ against the enemy. The Spartans of old were forbidden by their laws ever to flee from a foe. In the Pa.s.s of Thermopylae stands a monument to Leonidas and his followers, bearing this inscription--"Go, stranger, and tell at Lacedaemon that we died here in obedience to our laws." My brethren, what we want, as soldiers of Jesus Christ, is not so much zeal, or enthusiasm, or outward profession, as _firmness_ to the end, steadfastness to die, if need be, for the laws of our G.o.d.

We find plenty of people ready to make professions, to be very zealous in the service of G.o.d, but after a time the fire of their zeal dies out into dead ashes; they have no _staying power_; like the seed on the rocky ground they wither away, because they have no root. Such unstable religion as this is useless. We must be firmly _rooted_ and _established_ in the faith. We must endure to the end, if we would be saved. We must, for our part, hold fast to the truth as it is in Christ Jesus, and He, for His part, will confirm or strengthen us unto the end. Every period of the Church's history has had its special dangers and temptations. The Corinthians had theirs long ago. We have ours to-day. Let us see what some of the special dangers of the Church are now, and how Jesus provides means to confirm us to the end.

First among these dangers we may place the _restless spirit_ of the age. This is the result of various causes. The spread of education is one cause. Men are taught to cultivate their heads at the price of their hearts. Children are sent to schools where G.o.d is almost shut out. Many people get that "little learning" which "is a dangerous thing," and which makes them doubtful and uncertain in the faith. The growth of cheap literature is another cause. The printing press which gives us a cheap Bible and Prayer Book, and a vast amount of pure, useful reading, also sends out much that is dangerous, and positively wicked. The most holy mysteries of the Christian faith are held up to mockery and ridicule, and treated as old wives' tales; and the restless spirit of the age leads people to read these things, and to have their faith shaken and their ideas confused. Thus we find nowadays people arguing and doubting about doctrines which at one time were taken for granted. One says, _perhaps_ we shall rise again after death; another _wonders_ if there be such a place as h.e.l.l. One _thinks_ that G.o.d answers prayer, another is doubtful about it. Now we do not find S.

Paul and the other Apostles talking in this way. We do not find the early Church talking in this way. They could say, "I know in whom I have believed. I believe, therefore will I speak." The fact is, some of us in these days are getting too clever. We have got a few drops of learning, and we fancy that we can pour the whole great ocean of knowledge into our poor little bottle. Education is a great and glorious blessing, but, like every other blessing, it may be put to a wrong use. And when we find shallow young men and women, who have just mastered enough subjects to be able to pa.s.s an examination, sneering at the Bible, and calling religion superst.i.tion and folly, we can only wish that they had drunk deeper, or not tasted, of the water of knowledge. True education makes us humble, because it shows us our ignorance. My brothers, what are the doubters and the unbelievers going to give you in exchange for what they rob you of? They can perhaps rob you of your faith in Jesus Christ as a Saviour. But what then, they cannot make you forget that you are a sinner. You know better, your own heart tells you the truth. They can take away the Saviour, and only leave you your sins. The doubter may scoff you out of believing in the resurrection. But can he laugh you out of believing in death? When your little child dies, and you look at the loving eyes closing for the last time, what comfort has your doubting friend to give you? Not a word. He leaves you alone with your dead, and he has robbed you of the only hope which makes death bearable--the resurrection unto eternal life. You come to your own dying bed; is there one of these doubting, scoffing faith-destroying friends who can bring peace or calm to your last hours? Will it be any comfort to you to hear them say that "there is nothing new, nothing true, and that it does not signify?" They tell you one fact, which you know already, that you are dying. But beyond that they know nothing, hope nothing, believe nothing.

My brothers, do not let these people, with their shallow talk and shallow books, rob you of your peace, cheat you out of your birthright.

Look at the lives of these doubters, and then look at the lives of Jesus and His saints. See which example is the purer, the more n.o.ble.

Which is better, to imitate the life of self-sacrifice which Jesus led, to copy the dauntless faith of S. Paul, the loving gentleness of S.

John, the humble penitence of Augustine, the fearless courage of Savonarola, or to sit at the feet of those who spend a selfish life in trying to describe a world in which there is no G.o.d?

Another of the dangers of the day is a constant desire for _something new_, and, if possible, sensational. There are some who would have their religion as full of novelties as their newspaper, or their amus.e.m.e.nt. The old paths which G.o.d has given us to walk in have become too commonplace for such as these; and they run eagerly into any new way, however fantastic. And, above all, these people want a religion which is made easy for them. They have no objection to being saved provided that the process is quick, easy, and costs them nothing. They turn away from the thought of self-denial, of keeping under the body, of fasting and prayer, of watchfulness and self-examination. They must be made good all at once, and be admitted into the front rank of saints, without having fought and suffered in a lower place. My brethren, beware of this mushroom religion, which grows up suddenly, and as suddenly vanishes away. The best fruit is not that which ripens most quickly, and the best Christian certainly does not come to maturity all in a moment.

There is a fable of the Persians which tells us how a gourd wound itself round a lofty palm-tree, and in a few weeks climbed to its very top. The quick-growing gourd asked the palm-tree its age, and the tree answered, "an hundred years." Then the gourd answered boastingly that it had grown as tall as the palm in fewer days than the tree could count years. "True," answered the palm-tree, "every summer has a gourd climbed round me, as proud as thou art, and as short-lived as thou wilt be."

These, then, are some of the special dangers of the time--an unfixed, unsettled faith, leading men to question, and argue, and doubt, when they should believe; and next, a restless desire for something new and exciting in religion. And, besides these, there are special dangers peculiar to ourselves, arising from our position, or temperament. This is a specially _busy_ age, when men must work if they would eat bread.

Every walk of life is crowded, and the compet.i.tion in every calling and business is most keen. Now there is great danger in all this to a man's spiritual life, if he has not _G.o.d with him in his work_. He will become selfish, unscrupulous, and determined to gain a place, and make money at any cost. He will think only of himself, and G.o.d is not in all his thoughts. There are some who would have us believe that religion is one thing and business another, and that the two must be kept distinctly apart. Never believe that false doctrine, my brothers.

A Christian man may not take part in any work on which the name of G.o.d may not be written. Whatever business he may engage in, a Christian must always remember that he must be about his Heavenly Father's business. The great merchants of old times used to begin their ledger and business books at the new year by writing "_Praise be to G.o.d_" on the top of the first page. I would that all men of business could honestly do the same now. Consecrate your work to G.o.d, so that you need not be ashamed to pray about it, to study the Bible about it, to write _Praise be to G.o.d_ on all your business transactions. And last of all, a word as to the means by which Christ will confirm or strengthen you unto the end. I can tell you nothing new about this, I would not if I could. The old wine of the Gospel is better than all the new inventions with which some men would poison the cup of religion. G.o.d confirms you by the gift of the Holy Ghost, given by His Word, and Sacraments, and means of grace. Let no one laugh you out of believing in the Bible; let no one argue you out of trusting in that Book which has been the guide, the teacher, the comforter of tens of thousands. The followers of new creeds would like you to exchange your Bible for their books. They will offer you the gospel of selfishness, the gospel of pride, the gospel of hopelessness, the gospel of money-making; turn away from them, and hold fast to the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. Hold fast to the Sacraments of the Church. Let the scoffer sneer, let the proud man refuse to bend before the Altar of his Lord; but let nothing drive you from the Blessed Sacrament of Christ's love. Hold fast to prayer. Let no crowd of difficulties, or worries, or troubles keep you back from Jesus. Press through the crowd like that woman of old, and touch the hem of Christ's garment, in prayer.

Only hold fast to your Bible, to your Altar, to your prayers, and "the Lord Jesus shall confirm you unto the end, that you may be blameless in the day of the Lord Jesus Christ."

SERMON LIV.

SCHOLARS OF CHRIST.

(Nineteenth Sunday after Trinity.)

EPHESIANS x. 20.

"Ye have not so learned Christ."

Education is a very prominent feature in the England of to-day.

Schools are among the most conspicuous of our public buildings, and compet.i.tive examinations are thronged by eager crowds; and, seeing all this, it seems almost impossible that a few years ago most of our poorer brethren could neither read or write. I am not going to speak to you now about the blessings and the evils of the present state of education; I want you to think of another school, and another kind of lessons, which are far more important than all else in the world. The time comes when the schoolboy can lay his books by, and when the young man quits college, they have finished their education. But it is never so in Christ's school, about which I am going to speak. As long as we are here in the world we must go to school. And when we come to die, our education is not finished, but we go to a higher cla.s.s, as it were, to learn such lessons as we never could master on earth.

In the school of Jesus Christ it is not always the oldest or the cleverest who are the best scholars. There are white-haired old men who are only just learning the alphabet of Christ's religion, in the lowest place; and there are little children, so pure and white-souled, that they have already mastered some of the hardest lessons. In other schools the scholar must be naturally clever, or, at least, most industrious, if he is to gain a high place, and win a prize. In Christ's school there is a place, and a prize, for the dullest, and he will succeed very well if only _he wants to learn_. I have known many people who, as they said, "were no scholars," and yet they were not very far from the kingdom of Heaven. Brethren, some of us have never yet been to Christ's school. We have been playing truant, or altogether taken up with the lessons of that great, selfish, public-school--the world. I want you all to come to Christ's school to-day, old and young, clever and dull, and to hear some of the lessons which that school teaches. I think that if we examine ourselves honestly in these lessons, we shall find how little we really know, and we shall begin with shame to take the lowest place. And we must remember this, that in Christ's school we shall have to _unlearn_ a great deal which the world's school has taught us. The world will have instructed us to take care of ourselves, at the expense of others. One of the favourite mottoes in the great world school-room is--"every man for himself." The world will have taught us that to make money, and to be successful, are the highest aims possible. And there are many similar lessons which are being daily learnt in the world school. Now, when we become scholars of Christ, we have to unlearn a great deal of this. Instead of finding the text, "every man for himself," placed conspicuously before us, we see another, and quite opposite command--"No man liveth unto himself, and no man dieth unto himself."

We were taught in that other school outside that to make money and to succeed were the greatest good. Here we are instructed differently.

"Lay not up for yourselves treasure on the earth, where rust and moth doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal." One of the chief things which we learnt in the world's lesson-book was to mistrust our fellow men, and to be ready to resent an injury when discovered.

In Christ's school the lesson is quite different, we are told to love our neighbour as ourself, and more than this, to love our enemies.

There are some here to-day, perhaps, who are very old scholars of the world's school. They have got all its lessons by heart, they can repeat its selfish maxims, and practise its hard teachings. My brothers, G.o.d grant that you may find out how greatly your education has been neglected! G.o.d grant that you may learn, before it is too late, how little you know about the things which concern your peace.

You, who have grown grey in the great world school, learning its sordid, selfish lessons, grinding away at its daily tasks, adding up your sums of addition, and interest, scanning the money table with eager eyes, practising your skill in profit and loss, and daily writing as your one copy--_make money, and be rich_--to you, I say, come into Christ's school to-day, and see whose teaching is the better: that of the world, or that of the Son of G.o.d. There comes to every school a day of breaking up, when the scholars go home. One day a man is missed in the great world school. His place is vacant. The shutters are up at the shop, or office, the servants at the place of business speak in smothered whispers. They miss the sound of the master's voice, the echo of his step upon the stair. He has learnt his last lesson in worldliness, and his schooling is over. The world has broken up, as far as he is concerned, and he has gone home. But where? He knew nothing beyond the world's lessons, he never provided for another home.

"What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?"

Briefly, then, let us look at some of the chief lessons which we must learn in the school of Jesus Christ.

First, we must learn to hate our old sins. Like David, like S. Peter, like every penitent, when we think of the past we abhor ourselves, and sit down among the ashes of humiliation. Like the Prodigal, we cry, "I am no more worthy to be called Thy son." If you find yourself taking pleasure in the thought of former sin, boasting of your evil deeds, be sure you are yet in your ignorance, you have never learnt the alphabet of Christ's lesson.

Next, we must learn to know our own weakness, and our need of a Saviour. The world will not give us that lesson. The world will tell us to make our own way, to trust to ourselves, to our cleverness, and sharpness. In Christ's school we shall be taught our weakness, and shall learn to say, "Lord, save me, I perish."

Another of the lessons we must learn is to _conquer ourselves_. The world gives a great many instructions about conquering difficulties, beating down obstacles, overcoming enemies; but it is Christ's school alone which can show us how to conquer _ourselves_. You have probably noticed the change in a young country lad after he has enlisted for a soldier, and gone through his drill. Whereas he was a high-shouldered, slouching, ungainly figure, now he has learnt to carry himself like a soldier, he has conquered the old bad habits which he acquired by lounging in the lanes, or plodding along the furrow. My brethren, we have all got our bad habits, our ugly tempers, our sharp tongues, our discontented feelings, and it is only the drill of Christ's soldiers, and the teachings in Christ's school, which will make us get the better of them. Christ's school will make a radical change in us. Jesus--our Master--says, "behold I make all things new," and we know that they who are in Christ are become new creatures, old things are pa.s.sed away. We may be quite sure that if we are Christ's scholars we shall be changed people. S. Paul tells us, as he told the Ephesians, some of the marks of this change. We shall learn to speak, and act, the truth. "Putting away lying, speak every man truth with his neighbour." We shall learn to control our temper,--"be ye angry, and sin not. Let not the sun go down upon your wrath." We shall learn to work, and to work honestly,--"let him that stole steal no more; but rather let him labour, working with his hands the thing which is good." We shall learn to control our tongue,--"let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying." We shall learn to be kind and gentle to our neighbours,--"let all bitterness and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil-speaking, be put away from you, with all malice." The great world school will teach us to practise these things, but not the school of Jesus. There we shall learn "to be kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as G.o.d, for Christ's sake hath forgiven us."

And we shall learn in Christ's school to be brave. The world school can teach us a certain kind of courage, but not the highest, nor the best. The world can teach us how to resent an injury, not how to forgive one. It is in Christ's school only that true heroes are made.

The world can make such soldiers as Caesar, or Napoleon, but the school of Christ alone can make a Havelock or a Gordon. I have read of a poor boy who came to school with a patch on his clothes. One of his schoolmates singled him out for ridicule and insult; and the boy answered--"do you suppose I am ashamed of my patch? I am thankful to a good mother for keeping me out of rags, and I honour my patch for her sake."

All the n.o.ble army of martyrs, of every rank and kind, learnt the secret of their courage in the school of Christ, and have left us an example to follow.

"By all the martyrs, and the dear dead Christ; By the long bright roll of those whom joy enticed With her myriad blandishments, but could not win, Who would fight for victory, but would not sin; By these our elder brothers, who have gone before And have left their trail of light upon our sh.o.r.e, We can see the glory of a seeming shame, We can feel the fulness of an empty name."

My brothers, it may be there are some here now who have not so learned Christ. Who have been in the world's school from the beginning, and have grown weary of its selfishness, and its hollow maxims. If it be so, pray now that Jesus, the Great Teacher, may give you a new heart, and a new mind, bow the proud head, and bend the unwilling knee, say to the Lord--"Lord Jesu, make me as a little child, let me come to school to-night."