Westminster Sermons Part 11

He tells us that The Word made all things, that we may be sure that He is a G.o.d of order, because all things which He has made are full of order; a G.o.d who acts by rules and laws which we may trust. He tells us that The Word made all things, that we may be sure that all things, being His handy-work, will bear witness of Him and teach us about Him, and shew forth His glory.

But he tells us moreover--Oh gospel, and good news for blind and weak humanity!--that The Word's glory is full of grace; gracious; ready to condescend; ready to teach us, and give us light to see our way through this world which He has made.

He tells us that The Word's glory is full of truth; that He is truthful, accurate, and to be depended on; and will tell us nothing but what is true. That He is a true Word of G.o.d, and when He speaks to us of His Father and of our Father, He tells the truth.

And so do St John and the Psalmist agree in the same gospel, and good news, of the mystery of Christ The Word.

There is an eternal Being in heaven, who is called The Word of G.o.d; because He speaks of, and reveals--that is, unveils and shews--to men, and angels, and archangels, and all created beings, that G.o.d whom no man hath seen, or can see; a Word who dwells for ever in the bosom of The Father, in the light which no man can approach unto: but who for ever comes forth from thence to proclaim to all created beings--There is a G.o.d, and The Word is His likeness; the brightness of His glory, and the express image of His person. None hath seen the Father at any time: but the only-begotten Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, He hath declared Him. None cometh to the Father, but through Him. But he who hath seen Him, hath seen the Father; and He is none other than Jesus Christ our Lord.

He is The Word of G.o.d, who speaks to men G.o.d's words, because He speaks not His own words but His Father's, and does not His own will but His Father's who sends Him.

He speaks to us and to all men, in many ways; and to each according to his needs. To all men, Christ speaks through their consciences, shewing them what is good, and warning them of what is evil; for He is the Light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world. To Christians Christ speaks in many ways--to which, alas, too few give heed--through the Bible, through the sacraments, through sermons, through the thoughts and words of all wise and holy men. To the good He speaks with gracious encouragement; to the wicked with awful severity. To the hypocrites He says at times, "Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the d.a.m.nation of h.e.l.l?" To the self-satisfied and bigoted He says, "If ye had been blind, ye had had no sin: but now ye say, We see; therefore your sin remaineth." To the careless and worldly He says, "I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot. Thou sayest, I am rich and increased with goods, I have need of nothing: and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked."

To those who are ruining themselves by their own folly He says, "Why will ye die? I have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth, saith the Lord: but rather that he should be converted, and live." To those who are tormented by their own pa.s.sions He says, "Take My yoke upon you and learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly of heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls." To those who are wearied with the burden of their own sins He says, "Come unto Me, all ye that are weary, and heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

To those who are struggling, however weakly, to do what is right He says, "I know thy works. Behold, I have set before thee an open door, and none can shut it; for thou hast a little strength, and hast kept My word, and hast not denied My name. Because thou hast kept the word of My patience, I also will keep thee from the hour of temptation."

And to those who mourn for those whom they have loved and lost He says, "Fear not, I am the first and the last, I am He that liveth, and was dead; and behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of h.e.l.l and of death. He that believeth in Me, though he die, yet shall he live; and he that liveth and believeth in Me shall never die."

For every one of us, according to his character and his needs, Christ speaks a fitting word from G.o.d, because He is The Word of G.o.d; and every word which He speaks to us is true, and sure, and eternal, according to the laws of G.o.d His Father. For He is The Word who endures for ever in heaven; and though heaven and earth may pa.s.s away, His words cannot pa.s.s away.

Yes; Christ The Word speaks to all: but most of all to children: to the children, of whom He said--"Suffer the little children to come to me, and forbid them not;"--of whom He said to grown-up people, not--Except these children be converted and become as you--He left that message for the Pharisees of His own time, and of every age and creed: but--Except you grown people be converted and become as little children, you, and not they, shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven.

Let us tell children that--that Christ Himself is speaking to them. That The Word of G.o.d is educating them. That the Light who lightens every man who comes into the world is labouring to enlighten them, their intellect and memory, their emotions and their consciences. Let that be the ground of all our education of children. Then it will matter little to us who teaches them what is miscalled secular knowledge. For we shall tell our children--In it, too, Christ is teaching you. The understanding by which you understand the world about you is Christ's gift. The world which you are to understand is Christ's world; for He laid the foundation of the earth, and it abideth. The physical laws of the universe are Christ's laws; for all things serve Him, and continue this day according to His ordinance. Every natural object is a result of Christ's will, and its organization a product of Christ's mind; for without Him was not anything made that was made. The whole course of events, great and small, is Christ's providence; for to Him all power is given in heaven and earth.

So far, therefore, from being afraid to teach our children Natural Science, we shall hold it a sacred duty to teach it; for it is the will and mind of Christ, The Word of G.o.d.

And as for morality--we shall be ready to teach that, as far as the prudential and paying virtues are concerned, as boldly and on the very same grounds as the merest Utilitarian. For we shall teach honesty, courtesy, decency, self-restraint, patience, foresight, on the warrant of the Bible; which is, that Christ has made the world so well, that sooner or later every wise and just act rewards itself, every foolish and unjust act punishes itself, by the very const.i.tution of nature and society, which again are laid down by Christ. But what of the n.o.bler, the non- prudential, and non-paying virtues?--call them rather graces.--Them we shall teach our children--as I believe we can only teach them rationally and logically, either to children or to grown-up people--by pointing them to Christ upon His cross, and saying to them, "Behold your G.o.d!"

For so we shall be able to train them in the orthodox doctrine of morals, which is--

That there is nothing good in man which is not first in G.o.d.

We shall be able to make them comprehend what we mean when we tell them that they are members of Christ, and must live the Life of Christ; that they are children of G.o.d, and as such must imitate their Father, and become perfect, even as their Father in heaven is perfect.

For we shall say--The pure and perfect graces, the disinterested virtues, the unselfish virtues--obedience, mercy, chivalry, beneficence, magnanimity, heroism,--in one word, self-sacrifice--beautiful these are: but are they necessary? are they mere ornaments? or are they sacred duties? The duty which dares and suffers for the thing it ought to do; the love which dares and suffers for the thing it loves; the unselfish spirit which looks for no reward:--why should these dwell in man? To that we shall answer--Because they dwell for ever in G.o.d. If we are asked--Why are they beautiful in man? we shall answer--Because they are the very beauty and glory of G.o.d; the glory which the Incarnate Word of G.o.d manifested to men, when He hung on the cross of Calvary; and was more utterly then, if possible, than ever, The Word of G.o.d: because He then declared most utterly to men the character and essence of G.o.d. Love which is not content--as what true love is?--to be a pa.s.sive sentiment, a self-contained possibility, but which must go out of itself, pitying, yearning, agonizing, to seek, to struggle, to suffer, and, if need be, to die for the creature which it loves, even if that creature love it not again.

We need not say this to children. We need only point them to Christ upon His cross, and trust Christ to say it to them, in their heart of hearts, through instincts too deep for words. All we need say to our children is--"Behold your G.o.d! He it is who inspires you with every dutiful, generous, and unselfish impulse you have ever felt; for they are the fruits of His Spirit. By that Spirit He was once unselfish even to the death. By that Spirit He will enable you to carry out in action, as He did, the unselfish instincts which He has given you; and to live the n.o.ble life, the heroic life, the life of self-sacrifice; the life of G.o.d; the life of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit; and therefore the only life fit for those who are baptized into that Holy Name."

This is the ground and method on which we should educate our children; for it is the ground and method on which The Word of G.o.d is educating us.

SERMON XV. I.

PSALM CXIX. 94.

I am Thine, oh save me.

Let us think seriously this afternoon of one word; the word which is the key-note of this psalm. A very short word; for in our language there is but one letter in it. A very common word; for we are using it all day long when we are awake, and even at night in our dreams; and yet a very wonderful word, for though we know well whom it means, yet what it means we do not know, and cannot understand, no, nor can the wisest philosopher who ever lived; and a most important word too; for we cannot get rid of it, we cannot help thinking of it, cannot help saying it all our life long from childhood to the grave. After death, too, we shall probably be saying that word to ourselves, each of us, for ever and ever. If the whole universe, sun, moon, and stars, and all that we ever thought of, or can think of, were destroyed and became nothing, that word would probably be left; and we should be left alone with it; and on what we meant by that little word would depend our everlasting happiness or misery. And what is this wonderful little word? What but the word I? Each one of us says I--I think, I know, I feel, I ought, I ought not, I did that, and cannot undo it: and why? Because we are not things, nor mere animals, but persons, living souls, though our bodies are like the bodies of animals, only more perfect, that they may be fit dwelling-places for more perfect souls. The animals, as far as we know, do not think of themselves each as I. Little children do not at first. They call themselves by names by which they hear others call them: not in the first but in the third person. After a while there grows up in them the wonderful thought that they are persons, different from any other person round them, and they begin to say--I want this, I like that. I trust that I shall not seem to you as one who dreams when I say that I believe that is a revelation from G.o.d to each child, and just what makes the difference between him and an animal; that G.o.d teaches each child to say I; to know that it is not a mere thing, but a person, a living soul, with a will of its own, and a duty of its own; responsible for itself; which ought to do some things, and ought not to do other things. And what a solemn and awful revelation that is, we shall see more clearly, the more we think of it.

It may be a very dreadful and tormenting thought. It does not torment the mere savage, who has no sense of right and wrong; who follows his own appet.i.tes and pa.s.sions, and has never learnt to say, "I ought," and "I ought not." But it does torment the heathen when they begin to be civilized, and to think; it has tormented them in all ages. It tormented the old Greeks and Romans; it torments some Eastern peoples still--that terrible thought--I am I myself, and cannot be any one else. I am answerable for all that I ever did, or shall do; and no one can be answerable for me. All the bad deeds I ever did, the bad thoughts I ever thought, are mine, parts of me, and will be for ever. I can no more escape from them than I can spring off my own shadow. But men have been always trying to escape; to escape from the burden of their own self, and the dread of an evil conscience; and have invented religion after religion, often fantastic enough, often pathetic enough likewise, in hopes of hiding from themselves the secret thought--I am I, and must be myself for ever. But I am not what I ought to be, and therefore I may be wrong, and miserable for ever. And how many people, in this Christian land, are saying at this very moment to themselves, "Oh that I could get rid of this I myself in me, which is so discontented and unhappy! Oh that I had no conscience! Oh that I could forget myself!" And they try to forget themselves by dissipation, by gaming, by drinking, by taking narcotic drugs, even sometimes by suicide, as a last desperate attempt to escape from themselves, they know not and care not whither. It is all in vain. There is no escape from self. As the pious poet whose bust stands beneath yonder tower has said:

Each in his separate sphere of joy and woe Our hermit spirits dwell, and range apart.

I must be I, thou must be thou, he must be he, she must be she, and no one else, throughout our mortal lives, and, for aught we can tell, for ever; alone, each of us, with our own souls, our own thoughts, our own actions, our own hopes, our own fears, our own deservings. Stay alone:--with all these? Yes, and alone with one more. Each of us is alone with G.o.d. Face to face with G.o.d, seen by Him through and through, and directly answerable to Him at every moment of our lives, for every deed, and word, and thought. And is that not a more terrible thought than any? Ah! my friends, it may be. But it may be also the most comforting of all thoughts, the only really comforting thought, if we will but look at the question as the Psalmist looks at it, and cry with him to G.o.d, "I am Thine, oh save the me whom Thou hast made."

There are those, and those who deserve a respectful hearing, who will differ from all that I have been saying, and indeed from the beliefs of 999 out of 1000 of the human race in every age. They will say--This fancy that you are an I, a self, individual and indivisible, is but a fancy; one of the many idols which man creates for himself, by bestowing reality and personality on mere abstractions like this I and self. Each man is not one indivisible, much less indestructible, thing or being. He is really many things. He is the net result of all the organic cells of his body, and of all the forces which act through them within, and of all the circ.u.mstances which influence them from without, ay, and of all the forces and circ.u.mstances which have influenced his ancestors ever since man appeared on the earth. But because he remembers many states of consciousness, many moments in which he was aware of sensations within him, and of circ.u.mstances without him, therefore he strings all these together, and talks of them as one thing which he calls I; and speaks of them as his remembrances of himself, when really the many things are but links of a chain which is perpetually growing at one end and dropping off at the other. To say, therefore, that he is the same person as he was when a child, or as he would be when an old man,--is, when we know that every atom of his physical frame has changed again and again during the course of years, a popular delusion, or at least a misnomer used for convenience' sake; as when we say that the sun rises and sets, when we know that the earth moves, and not the sun. A man, therefore, according to this school, is really no more a person, one and indivisible, than is the coral with its million polypes, the tree with its million buds, or even the thunderstorm with its million vesicles of attracting and repelling vapour.

Now that a truth underlies such a theory as this, I am the last to deny.

How much of the character of each man is inherited, how much of it depends on his actual bodily organization; how much of it, alas! on the circ.u.mstances of his youth; how much of it changes with the mere physical change from youth to old age--who does not know all this, who has ever needed to fight for himself the battle of life? Only, I say, this is but half the truth; and these philosophers cannot state their half-truth, without employing the very words which they repudiate; without using the very personal p.r.o.nouns, the I and me, the thou and thee, the he and him, to which they deny any real existence. Beside, I ask--Is the experience and the conclusion of the vast majority of all mankind to go for nothing?

For if there be one point on which human beings have been, and are still, agreed, it is this--that each of them is, to his joy or his sorrow, an I; a separate person. And, I should have said, this conviction becomes stronger and stronger in each of them, the more human they become, civilized, and worthy of the respect and affection of their fellow-men.

For what rises in them, or seems to rise, more and more painfully and fiercely? What but that protest, that battle, between the everlasting I within them, and their own pa.s.sions, and motives, and circ.u.mstances; which St Paul of old called the battle between the spirit on one side, and the flesh and the world on the other. The n.o.bler, surely, and healthier, even for a moment, the manhood of any man is, the more intense is that inward struggle, which man alone of all the animals endures. Is it in moments of brave endeavour, whether to improve our own character, or to benefit our fellow-men: or is it in moments of depression, disappointment, bodily sickness, that we are tempted to say?--I will fight no more. I cannot mend myself, or the world. I am what nature has made me; and what I am, I must remain. I, and all I know, and all I love, are things, not persons; parts of nature, even as the birds upon the bough, only more miserable, because tormented by a hope which never will be fulfilled; an empty pageant of mere phenomena, blown onward toward decay, like dying autumn leaves, before the "everlasting storm which no one guides." Is this the inward voice of health and strength?

or rather, for evil or for good, that voice which bids the man, the woman, in the mysterious might of the free I within, trample on their own pa.s.sions, defy their own circ.u.mstances, even to the death; fall back, in utter need, on the absolute instinct of self; and even though all seem lost, say with Medea in the tragedy--

Che resta? Io!

Medea?--Some one will ask, and have a right to ask--Is that the model which you set before us? The imperious sorceress, who from the first has known no law but self, her own pa.s.sions, her own intellect; who, at last, maddened by a grievous wrong, a.s.serts that self by the murder of her own babes? You might as well set before us as a model Milton's Satan.

Just so. Remember first, nevertheless, the old maxim, that the best, when corrupted, is the worst; that the higher the nature, when used aright in its right place, the baser it becomes when used wrongly, in its wrong place. When Satan fell from his right place, said the old Jews, he became, remember, not a mere brute: but worse, a fiend. There is a deep and true philosophy in that. As long as he was what he was meant to be--the servant of G.o.d--he was an archangel and more; the fairest of all the sons of the morning. When he rebelled; when in pride and self-will he tore himself--his person--away from that G.o.d in whom he lived and moved and had his being: the personality remained; he could still, like Medea, fall back, even when he knew that he had rebelled against his Creator, on his indomitable self, and reign a self-sufficing king, even in the depths of h.e.l.l.

But the very strength and richness of that personality made him, like Medea, only the more capable of evil. He stood, that is, his moral health endured, only by loyalty to G.o.d. When he lost that, he fell; to moral disease: disease the vaster, the vaster were his own capacities.

And so it is with you, and me, and every soul of man. Only by loyalty to G.o.d can this undying I, this self, this person, which each of us has--or rather which each of us is--be anything but a torment and a curse; the more terrible to us, and those around us, the stronger and the richer are the nature and faculties through which it works.

Wouldest thou not be a curse unto thy self? Then cry with him who wrote the 119th Psalm--I am Thine. Oh save the me, whom Thou, O G.o.d, hast made.

For he who wrote that psalm had an intense conviction of his own personality. I, and me, are words for ever in his mouth: but not in self- satisfied conceit; nor in self-tormenting superst.i.tion, crying perpetually, Shall I be saved? shall I be lost? No. Faith in G.o.d delivers him from either of these follies. He is forced to think of self. Sad, persecuted, seemingly friendless, he is alone with self: yet not alone. For at every moment he is referring himself to his true place in the universe; to G.o.d; G.o.d's law, G.o.d's help. The burden of self--of mingled responsibility and weakness--is to him past bearing. It would be utterly past bearing, if he could not cast it down, at least at moments, at the foot of the throne of G.o.d, and cry, I am Thine. Oh save me.

And if any should ask--as has been asked ere now--But is there not in this tone of mind something undignified, something even abject? thus to cry for help, instead of helping oneself? thus to depend on another being, instead of bearing stoically with manly independence? I answer--The Psalmist does bear stoically, just because he cries for help.

For the old Stoics cried for help; the earlier and truer-hearted of them, at least. Some here, surely, have read Epictetus, the heathen whose thought most exactly coincides with that of the Psalmist. If so, do they not see what enabled him, the slave of Nero's minion, to a.s.sert himself, and his own unconquerable personality; to defy circ.u.mstance; and to preserve his own calm, his own honour, his own purity, amid a degradation which might well have driven a good man to suicide? And was it not this--The intensity of his faith in G.o.d? In G.o.d the helper, G.o.d the guide?

If any man here have learnt, to his own loss, to undervalue the experience of prophets, psalmists, apostles: then let him turn to Epictetus the heathen; and learn from that heroic slave, that the true dignity of man lies in true faith in G.o.d.

Nay more. It is a serious question, whether unG.o.dliness--by which I mean, as the Psalmist means, the a.s.sertion of self, independent of G.o.d--whether unG.o.dliness, I say, is ever dignified; whether, as has been often said, Milton's still dignified Satan is not an impossible character; whether Goethe's utterly undignified Mephistopheles is not the true ideal of an utterly evil spirit. UnG.o.dliness, as we see it manifested in human beings, may be repulsive, as in the mere ruffian, whose mouth is filled with cursing, and his feet swift to shed blood. It may, again, be pitiable, as in those human b.u.t.terflies, who live only to enjoy, or to minister to, what they call luxury and fashion. And it may be again--when it calmly and deliberately a.s.serts itself to be a philosophy, and an explanation of man and of the universe, and gives itself magisterial airs, however courteously and kindly--it may be then, I dare to think, a little ludicrous.

But as for its dignity, I leave to you to say which of the two beings is the more dignified, which the more abject--a little organism of flesh and blood, at most not more than six feet high, liable to be destroyed by a tile off the roof, or a blast of foul gas, or a hundred other accidents; standing self-poised and self-complacent in the centre of such an universe as this, and a.s.serting that it acknowledges no superior, and needs no guide--or the same being, awakened to the mystery of his own actual weakness, his possible strength; his own actual ignorance, his possible wisdom; his own actual sinfulness, his possible holiness: and then; by a humility which is the highest daring; by a self-distrust which is the truest self-a.s.sertion, vindicating the divine element within, by taking personal and voluntary service under no less a personage than Him who made him; and crying directly to the Creator of sun and stars and all the universe--I am Thine. Oh save the me which Thou hast made?

Make up your own minds, make up your minds, which of the two figures is the more abject, which the more dignified. For me, I have had too good cause, long since, to make up mine.

And if you wish to judge further for yourselves, whether the teaching of the Psalmist is more likely to produce an abject or a dignified character, I advise you to ponder carefully a certain singular--I had almost said unique--educational doc.u.ment, written by men who had thoroughly imbibed the teaching of this psalm; a doc.u.ment which, the oftener I peruse it, arouses in me more and more admiration; not only for its theology, but for its knowledge of human nature; and not only for what it does, but for what it does not, say. I mean the Catechism of the Church of England.

You will remark at first sight, that it does not affect to teach the child; with one remarkable exception to be hereafter noticed. It does not tell the child--You should do this, you should not do that.

It is strictly an Educational Catechism. It tries to educe--that is, draw out--what is in the child already; its own native instincts and native conscience. Therefore it makes the child speak for itself. It makes each child feel that he or she is an I; a person, a responsible soul. It begins--What is your name? It makes the child confess that it has a name, as a sign that it is a person, a self, a soul, different from all other persons in earth or heaven; and that its name was given it at baptism, for a sign that G.o.d made it a person, and wishes it to know that it is a person, and will teach it how to be a true person, and a good person. It teaches the child to say--I, and me, not in fear and dread, like those heathen of whom I spoke just now, but with manly confidence, and self-respect, and grat.i.tude to G.o.d who has made it a person, and an immortal soul.

To say--I am a person; and in order that I might be a right kind of person, and not a wrong kind, I was made a member of Christ, a child of G.o.d, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven.