Chapter XI: Part 11

About the time that the boy Jesus was found in the temple seated among the doctors, both hearing them and asking them questions, far to the northwest of Jerusalem, in the heathen city of Tarsus, there was born a babe, born of strict Jewish parents, of the tribe of Benjamin, but also, because his father in some way had become a Roman citizen, also born to the rights and privileges of Roman citizenship. Being a bright child, of great natural gifts, he was given careful training at home in the schools of his native city, and then sent to Jerusalem, to finish his education under the care and tuition of Gamaliel, the most renowned rabbi of the Jewish land then living. His family, apparently well to do, spared no expense to make him one of the most learned men of his day; nor did they fail in their attempt, as his writings, masterpieces of composition and logic, abundantly testify.

The first mention that we have of Paul, or, rather, at that time Saul, is in connection with the scenes that led up to the murder of Stephen, the first Christian martyr. When the Christian religion began to spread in the very center of Judaism, Jerusalem, great disputation arose between its followers and the Jews. And Saul, who belonged to the strictest sect of the Jewish religion, the Pharisees, and was a man of strong feeling and enthusiastic in temper, soon became involved in these discussions, and so we find that when the mob took Stephen and ignominiously stoned him to death, it says of Saul: "He was consenting unto his death," and that the murderers "laid down their clothes at a young man's feet named Saul."

Nor did he stop here. His whole being was so aflame with religious zeal that he knew only one purpose of life, and that was to blot out the name of that detestable Founder of the new religion and His followers. Accordingly, we read in Acts that "Saul made havoc of the Church, entering into every house, and haling men and women, committed them to prison." And not satisfied with his work at Jerusalem, he began to extend his persecution to distant cities. The opening verses of this chapter read: "And Saul yet breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord, went unto the high priest, and desired of him letters to Damascus to the synagogues, that if he found any of this way, whether they were men or women, he might bring them bound unto Jerusalem." Damascus, in Syria, now the oldest city in the world, had opened its gates as a refuge to the Christians, and provided with legal papers from the high priests, he set out at the head of an armed and mounted force to bring those Christians at Damascus to terms. But he did not. In the affairs of men it ever remains true: Man proposes, God disposes, and most wonderfully did He dispose in the case of Saul of Tarsus.

It was high noon in Syria, the sun standing in its zenith. On the road leading from Jerusalem to Damascus could be heard the clattering of horses' hoofs. The horsemen could already see the beautiful city rising upon their sight and its gates swinging open, when, suddenly, there came a flash from the sky, and "a light above the brightness of the sun" shone round about them, with such overwhelming effect that it struck the chief with blindness, smote him to the ground, and filled every man with terror and dismay. And to this brilliancy of light was added a clear and distant voice ringing through the air, "Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou Me?"

Like pointed steel these words went down into Saul's heart. He had been persecuting the Christians, and now comes a voice from heaven, saying, "Why persecutest thou Me?" What! could it be possible that God identifies Himself with these people he, Saul, was seeking to destroy? Could it be true that He whom His nation had crucified was indeed the Messiah, risen and alive? Overcome with remorse, Saul raises his sightless eyeballs on high and asks, "Who art Thou, O Lord?" And back comes the quick reply, "I am Jesus, whom thou persecutest." That was too much for him. Here was the voice of Jehovah Himself,--what could he do but submit? Trembling and astonished he said, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" The victory was won. The Galilean had conquered. "Arise," said He, "and go into the city, and it shall be told thee what thou must do." For three days Saul lay sick in Damascus unable to see, to move, to eat and drink by reason of the great convulsions that had shaken up his body and soul, but during that time undergoing a change which has placed his name among the great and noble members of the kingdom of heaven. At the close of these never-to-be-forgotten days God sent to him one of the faithful disciples, or Christians, living at Damascus, Ananias by name. Ananias at first was very reluctant to go, having heard such evil report of the man, but the Lord had said, "Go," and that settled the matter. He found the dreaded Saul lying on his couch, addressed him with brotherly kindness, told him why he had come, and laid his hands upon him. "And immediately there fell from his eyes as it had been scales; and he received sight forthwith, and arose and was baptized." This interesting narrative shall we view as to the subject of conversion and as to its significance to the Church.

Taking up some practical lessons on the subject of conversion: What was there in St. Paul's case that need not be looked for in other cases? And what was there in it that is common to every case? Let us look at St. Paul's case. He was called in a miraculous manner by the Savior. It was a miracle to prove the truth of Christianity in that early day. But now we have no ground to look for like circumstances in the conversion of any one in our day. If Saul of Tarsus saw Jesus appearing to him in the way, the sinner must not, for this reason, also expect to be visited by some remarkable call, dream, vision, or supernatural impression upon his mind.

Again, Saul fell to the earth, and was in great distress of mind and body for three days. It does not follow from this that every unconverted person must be in such distress before he can take a step in the right direction. The Ethiopian eunuch, of whom we read in the preceding chapter, received the Word without any such process, and "went on his way rejoicing." Of the three thousand who were converted in one day it is merely said: "They gladly received the Word and were baptized."

Sometimes true Christians feel much uneasiness and anxiety because they cannot point to any such distinguishing moments in their experience. They have never passed through the mental anguish that others speak of. They have never felt as Saul of Tarsus must have felt those three days of blindness. Such persons forget that in most of the cases recorded in the Gospel there were no experiences of this kind, but conversion consisted simply in the cordial and quiet acceptance of the Lord Jesus.

Again, in Paul's case there was something to fix the precise time of his conversion. He could name the day, the very hour, when he fell upon the ground trembling and afraid. Is it, therefore, necessary that every believer should be able to designate the precise time of his conversion? Not one Christian out of ten can tell the date of his conversion.

It is generally the case that the grosser the sins are, the more marked will the change be. When any one who has made himself conspicuous in crime and wickedness is converted, it is like the lighting of a candle in a room utterly dark. There is a sudden change from darkness to light. It is, therefore, easy to fix the precise time when darkness ceased and light prevailed. But the case is very different from those who have been molded and influenced from youth up by religious teaching and training.

How was it possible for Timothy to tell when he commenced to be a Christian? He was instructed from his youth in the Holy Scriptures. He could not remember the time when he was not pious and God-fearing. He always belonged to the Lord--in his childhood, in his youth, in his manhood. The same is true of John the Baptist. How could he tell when he was converted? He was sanctified from his birth, we are told. Where, then, was there room for a sudden and marked change in him? Yes, I am free to remark that it is just what God wants in the case of each one. He does not want us to know the precise time of our conversion. He does not want any one to give a part of his life to sin and Satan, so that a sudden, marked, and definite change seems necessary. He does not want you to act the part of an infidel for awhile, in order that you may be able to tell us the day or the hour when you became a believer. No, God wants your whole life; from beginning to end it is to be consecrated to God, our Savior. And does it not follow from this, that the more faithfully our children are instructed in the doctrines and duties of our holy religion, in the family, in the Sunday-school, and in the catechetical class, the less the number will become of those who can point to the particular time of their conversion? The whole work of the Sunday-school throughout and the whole work of the pastor in the catechetical class has this grand object in mind, to make a Timothy out of every child, one who is instructed in the Holy Scriptures from his youth, and who knows no time when he did not belong to the Lord.

Finally, we may observe that Saul's conversion was unsought by himself. He set out on his way to Damascus full of hatred against Christ and His disciples. He had not a single desire to become His follower. In this also his conversion is singular. We are not to expect, as some seem to do, that we may carelessly continue in our worldly affairs, or in sinful pleasures, or in other opposition to God; and nevertheless some time Almighty Grace will strike us to the ground, and raise us up Christians. God may do that, but the general rule is that God does not do that. The general rule is that God is found by those who seek Him. The eunuch was reading the Scriptures when Philip preached Christ to him. Nathaniel was meditating and praying under the fig-tree when he was led to the Savior. Lydia was at the place of prayer when the Lord opened her heart, and she attended to the things spoken by Paul. The Samaritans were listening to Philip's preaching when they were brought to believe. All were using the means of grace, and were brought to a saving knowledge of the truth. So with us this day,--by the Word of God, in private reading, in public preaching He converts souls. In this particular conversion, Paul's case differs from others.--What, however, do we find in every case of true conversion, no matter how varied the circumstances are? Conversion is to turn from the love and practice of sin, and through faith in the Son of God to the love and practice of holiness. When a man has conviction of sin, believes in, and depends on, Jesus as His Savior, he is converted, and it matters not how, when, or where. Never could there be such a conviction, such a belief, such a striving, unless there has previously been a change, and that change we call conversion. Believe it that when a man can look up like the man Saul of Tarsus, and say, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" he is a converted man.--

Viewed as a public event in its significance to the Christian Church, the conversion of Paul is one of the strongest external proofs furnished us in the Bible for the truth of the Christian religion. If it can be established that Saul became Paul, then the Gospel must be true, and all that it tells us of Jesus as our divine Lord and Redeemer must be true. And there has never yet been a man who has dared to deny the historical truth of this conversion, or to contradict that Saul _did_ become Paul.

At the beginning of the last century Sir Gilbert West and Lord Lyttleton, two great literary lights of England, determined on a masterstroke for the suppression of the Gospel. It seemed to them that the two greatest miracles of the Christian religion were Christ's resurrection and Saul's conversion. Gilbert West agreed to write a refutation of the resurrection of Christ, and Lord Lyttleton a refutation of the conversion of Saul. At the conclusion of their work they met by appointment. Lord Lyttleton asked, "What is the result of your work?" The answer was: "I have thoughtfully investigated the resurrection of Christ, and have come to the conclusion that He who is said to have come forth from the sepulcher of Joseph's garden was, as He claimed to be, the veritable Son of God." And Lord Lyttleton said: "I have fully investigated the narrative of the conversion of St. Paul, and am satisfied that this man, on his journey along the Damascus highway, really saw Jesus of Nazareth, and that this Jesus was the very Christ of God." No other conclusion can be reached as we enter upon the study of the character of the man, and the results that have come from that event.

To finish our meditation with a personal application: St. Paul, whose conversion we have considered, wrote much for the instruction of all after ages, but he never penned more memorable words than these, words which perhaps have been oftener quoted than any sentence of any writer that ever lived--may God enable you to take the words home to your heart--: "This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of which I am chief." Paul's conversion is a beacon-light to encourage us never to despair for the worst and most hopeless of sinners.

If Grace could take a blasphemer and persecutor like Saul, then there is hope for you and for me. May we realize it! Amen.

SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof.--_2
Tim. 3, 5._

Things are not always what they seem. There is much deception, sham, pretense in this world. And religion forms no exception; much that passes under that name is not such in reality. The text just quoted distinguishes between "the form of godliness" and "the power of godliness," thus intimating that there may be one without the other. All created things indeed have some form. We cannot think of anything without form. Every essence and substance manifests itself in some shape, through some medium, external substance; and so religion finds expression in outward forms, in prayer, in this institution called the Church, in that Book called the Bible, in the sacraments and other ordinances.

But, whilst we cannot have religion without form, there may be form without religion. Not every eye sees, though it was created for that purpose; not every ear, though it have the perfect form, hears. We discover eyes without seeing and ears without hearing, and in like manner we discover the form of godliness with none of its power. A man may appear very religious, and yet not be religious. The Bible and history both are full of such. Thus, St. Paul in his day came to the city of Athens and was constrained to confess: "I observe, O men of Athens, that ye are exceedingly devout." Judging by the form, he saw, in that representative city of heathenism, a great degree of religiousness and devotion; gods and goddesses, altars and temples, stood on the right hand and on the left, carved out in the most exquisite marble, with the most exquisite skill. Every public edifice was a sanctuary. The theaters were ascribed to the deities. As any scholar of ancient history knows, the streets and markets, the groves and public places were full and overflowing with the figures and statues of Jupiter and Diana, and every other god and goddess which their imagination had invented. Yes, the men of Athens were exceedingly religious, and, withal, they were notoriously ungodly, and Paul could not help expressing himself to that effect.

Again, take the religionists mentioned in to-day's Gospel--the scribes and the Pharisees. As to the form of religion, they were scrupulous to the last degree. On their phylacteries, and on the frontlet which they wore between their eyes, were passages of Scripture such as: "Hear, O Israel! The Lord, your God is one Lord." They fasted twice in the week, more than the law required. They paid tithes, not only of the common products of the field, but of their garden herbs, mint, anise, and cinnamon. They were extremely careful as to their cleansings. Thus the washing of hands in the six books of the Mishna, written by the Jewish rabbis, is prescribed: One and one-half eggshells full of water must be used; the hands must be lifted in a certain position when the water is poured upon them; then the right must rub the left and the left the right; then they must be held in a downward incline, palms upside down, so that the water may drop off. And the towel must be properly held. Thirty chapters alone in that Jewish book treat of the cleansing of cups and platters. And yet, in spite of all this scrupulosity and punctiliousness and ceremonialism, the Savior had occasion to declare in the opening words of to-day's Gospel-lesson: "Except your righteousness exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no wise enter the kingdom of heaven." The form was there, the show of godliness, but something vitally essential was missing; our text calls it "the power."

Nor would we confine this formation of religion to ancient heathen or Judaism. An acquaintance of mine tells of a scene recently witnessed in the city of Mexico. A company of men were shuffling cards, and casting dice, and indulging in profane and unholy jests in a drinking-house, when suddenly the ringing of a bell was heard without. A procession of priests was passing through the streets bearing the consecrated water to the bedside of the dying. At the sound all in the iniquitous place fell upon their knees and muttered their prayers. The bell ceased, and they resumed their pleasure. What was this but the form of godliness without the power? Nor need we go to distant Mexico to find the same manifestation among the devotees of the same religion,--ceremonialism, grand and spectacular, the waking early at the break of day to perform one's worship, the lighting of candles and bending of knees before graven images, the ceaseless twisting of the rosary beads, and making of crucifixes and anointing with holy oil and water. What are these but the forms of godliness without the power thereof? Let us not be uncharitable, but the words of the Savior press themselves upon one's lips: Except your righteousness exceed that which so garbs itself, and puts in the place of Christ another's righteousness, which is the righteousness of such hollow ceremonies, pretensions, and good works, it shall not avail to enter into the kingdom of God.

And is Protestantism exempt? Are there no formalists among those who profess to be members of, and visit, our churches? Is there no outward ceremonial observance there, no form of godliness without the power thereof? As we pointed out, everything has a form, and that form needs attention. Injure the shell, and the kernel will be impaired. Refuse to give due respect to your body, and its immortal tenant, the soul, will leave it. And so in religion. The outward must be attended to. It will not do to say, I need not go to church, God is everywhere, I can worship Him just as well under the trees of the park, under the blue canopy of the great temple of Nature, as in the four walls of a building. The church is God's; it is there He has recorded His name, and promised to convey His grace and blessing as nowhere else. Godliness and churchliness are joined together, and it is not for any man to divorce them, to put them asunder.

The godly man, it will ever be found, is the best churchman. It will not do to say: I can be just as good a Christian and stay away from the sacrament of the Lord's Table,--it is only a form. Granting it is, it is a form which God has commanded by and through which He communicates life and salvation to men's souls. You do not despise to drink the water of the Mississippi River because it flows through pipes and comes out at the faucet. And so you ought not reject life, grace, and salvation promised by God, because He has laid it down for you in the partaking of bread and wine in His sacrament, which is the channel by and through which He conveys it to your soul. The same may be said of all the ordinances of religion,--prayer, the reading of the Bible, the saying of prayers. These things must be attended to. They are the forms in which it expresses itself--takes shape. And yet, we must beware of mistaking the shape for the substance, the shell for the kernel, the body for the soul. Going to church as a mere form saves no one; neither does going to the Sacrament. To read the Bible, for instance, merely to find out what a fine literary product it is, has no religious value; and to mumble one's prayers in a thoughtless and spiritless way, our Lord tells us, is worthless, yes, it may be an abomination to Him. What good does food do you if you do not digest it, take the strength out of it, the necessary qualities? Equally so with the spiritual food. Religion as a form, a mere external life, a show, avails nothing; rather, it is a snare of delusion by which men may deceive themselves and others.

When, then,--that is the question to which our text leads up,--when have we the form of godliness together with the power thereof? In order to have true religion, two things are necessary, the new birth and the new life. First, the new birth. "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." Religion, first of all, above all, aims at and affects the heart. It is this which is primarily concerned. "This people," the Lord complains, "draweth nigh unto me with their mouth, and honoreth me with their lips, but their heart is far from me." "Give me, my son," my daughter, "thy _heart_," is the request of the merciful Lord.

Whoever has sat under the pulpit of God, listening to His instructions and exhortations, or scanning the pages of His Holy Word, that has not had his feelings stirred and his soul warmed after the manner of those two disciples on their way to Emmaus, to whom the risen Lord opened the Scripture, whereupon they confessed, "Did not our heart burn within us?" Whose bosom has failed to beat higher with noble resolution and holy endeavor when kneeling before his God in prayer or at the sacred Communion? In a word, whose inner life has not been touched by the Spirit of God, and who has not undergone a change of mind which brings him to see things by faith in Christ, in a new light? The promise is: "With the heart man believeth unto righteousness." "If thou shalt believe in thine heart, thou shalt be saved." The heart belongs to true religion, and true religion belongs into the heart. This is the first requisite and essence of godliness--a new heart.

The other requisite is the new life. It is the natural and the necessary outflow of the new birth. When the heart has been changed by the Spirit of God, the new life will show itself. The Lord once remarked, "By their fruits ye shall know them." You cannot be a bad citizen, an undutiful parent, a spiteful husband, a fretful, quarrelsome wife, an unscrupulous business man, and, at the same time, a good Christian. It does not exhibit the power of godliness to listen devoutly to a sermon on righteousness, and temperance, and purity, and straightway imbibe freely from the intoxicating cup, speak words of profanity, and do things that are tainted. If you would discover if the works of a clock are right, we look at the hands; so by our hands and deeds we may test whether our hearts are right. You cannot be in possession of an evil tongue, of a lustful eye, of a covetous, selfish, miserly hand, and, at the same time, of a pious and devout mind.

If our text teaches anything, it teaches that godliness is a "power," an energy which renews and sanctifies men. But when there is power, it exerts and manifests itself. Then there must be, in order to have true religion, a regenerated heart and a corresponding life. How, then, to make a few direct words of application, is it with you, my dear hearer? One of the chief sources of offense, they tell us, is that those who profess godliness are so woefully short of it. "They are everlastingly running to church, praying, and hymn singing, but they live and act like heathen." Not infrequently that charge comes from an ugly and malicious, fault-finding spirit. Let us see to it that it is only that, a mean, unfair charge, that, as far as we are concerned, it be not true. Let us in the light of our text see to it that we have not only the form of godliness, but the power thereof, that our heart is right with God, and endeavor earnestly and conscientiously to make our head and tongues and hands right. God strengthen us in this resolution!

Lord Jesus, it is Thy religion we profess. Keep us by Thy Holy Spirit to be true disciples of it, to our soul's welfare, our fellow-man's uplift, and Thy glory. Amen.

SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of
them is forgotten before God?--_Luke 12, 6._

Our Lord always spoke in the plainest possible terms. Whenever a vital truth was to be stated, an important doctrine to be set forth, He did it in language so clear that no one could misunderstand. The statement of our text this morning shares that quality. "Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God?" The little creature mentioned is one of the most insignificant that could be thought of; the Lord selected it just for the sake of that utter insignificance to bring out a significant and all-inspiring truth. That truth is this: that God is in relation with everything that exists; that He superintends all; that there is nothing so minute as to be overlooked or forgotten. We call this the doctrine of God's providence, and a most prominent teaching of God's Word it is, as also one of the most cheering and practical.

Prompted by the Gospel-lesson of to-day, which shows us our blessed Lord as providing miraculously for the four thousand with seven loaves and a few small fishes, let us _I. seek to establish the doctrine of God's providence_; _II. show its application and effect upon us and our lives_.

"I believe that God has made me and all creatures, that He has given me my body and soul, eyes, ears, and all my members, my reason and all my senses, and still preserves them," thus we confess in the explanation of the First Article of our Creed, and what our Catechism thus confesses, the sacred Scriptures with especial clearness teach. God did not only, as some are willing to admit, create the universe, but He also now governs it personally and completely. It is the theory of our modern evolutionists and materialists that God has left the world to govern and develop itself, that, having placed it under certain natural laws, it must take care of itself, wholly independent of God's interference. As Melanchthon once characterized their position: "They think of God as a shipbuilder, who, when he has completed his vessel, launches it and then leaves it, or like a clock which you wind up, and then let run off." A different impression is that received from God's Holy Book. That assures us that, so far from turning over His government to unalterable laws, so far from retiring from His works to dwell apart in His own unapproachable Godhead in some distant sphere, unconcerned and uncaring for such a world and such creatures as we, there is nothing done, nor said, nor thought, nor felt by man but He knows it and notes it, and orders His dealings with reference to it. His providence includes every event,--the rise and fall of nations and states, the experiences and vicissitudes of the Church, the occurrences of the history of each family, the unnumbered instances which make up the life of each individual, no matter what their character. His supreme hand is in and over them all. Those words which we so commonly use in daily speech--chance, accident, strictly and consistently regarded, are untruthful, for there is no such thing as chance, an accident; nothing happens but it has been determined in His wisdom, and is sent, directed, or permitted according to His will. Chance or accident rule in nothing--God's providence in all. What more satisfactory assurance would we desire for that than what is told us in the text? It was a customary thing to see sold in the market-place of Jerusalem, as an article of merchandise, the little creatures here mentioned. The price was a minimum, five sparrows for two farthings, equal at the most, to two cents of our money. Our Lord, in referring to it, calls attention to the little regard taken by men of this poor little bird, and brings out in vivid and grand contrast the regard taken of it by God. "And not one of them is forgotten before God."

Elsewhere, in one of the Psalms, God says: "I know all the fowls upon the mountains, and the wild beasts of the field are in my sight." We watch in their season of immigration the flight of birds, when in long flocks they cross the sky, passing from the North to the South, or back again. To think that each in those countless tribes is known, as if by name, to its Creator, not one confounded with the other in the view of God! We observe the tiny sparrow as it skips from ground to housetop, busily gathering its food, or the frail materials wherewith to construct its nest below our house roof; how little we reflect that every one of them is numbered in that sight which nothing can escape, and that in the ephemeral history of the poor little bird, of which the great God and Savior deigns to speak, not one item is forgotten, each is seen and known and retained in a faithful memory; "not forgotten," implying a knowledge that lasts, a consideration though the thing known may no longer exist. This, then, is the way we are taught to think about our God. All things that transpire, all that has been and shall be--all are embraced within the circle of God's unforgetting, all-remembering knowledge, vision, providence. That is the Christian doctrine as taught by our Lord in such plain illustrations as this, and as preached by His apostles on the pages of the Old and New Testament throughout.

Let us now ask of the application. That it means something to us when the Lord says about God's not forgetting one of the sparrows sold in the market-place of Jerusalem is a matter of course. What does it mean? The doctrine of God's providence is, we would thus consider it first, a stern and restraining truth. Consider for a moment,--there is nothing about you, or in you, or of you, but God knows and sees it all, the thoughts of your mind, the desires of your heart, the motives of your deeds. He spieth out all your ways, He understandeth your thoughts afar off. Yesterday, for example, He saw you when your eyes first opened to the light, and He traced your steps till they closed once more in sleep. You know what you did, and He also knows. You may have thought yourself unobserved, and some things there are which you should prefer to forget, wish that you could conceal them, ashamed or afraid to have them known. God does not forget, from Him you cannot conceal; all the while you are standing in the concentrated blaze of a light, brighter than the brightest sun, and eyes that see everything are reading you through and through. That is, as stated, a stern and awful truth. But let us not deceive ourselves concerning it. Let us remember that there is no privacy anywhere for us, though we may long for it, and many live as if they had it. Our follies and vanities, our erring steps, our ugly temper and evil disposition, every idle word that you spoke, every oath that has fallen from your lips, every vile action, every dollar you have wasted in luxury, folly, or withheld in miserly selfishness, every influence you have exerted, apt to lead a brother or sister astray,--God sees and knows them all. You are read like a book by the Reader of the lives of all men. Man, my beloved hearers, needs a check upon him, a hand to keep him straight. He has it in this belief. A person cannot go far wrong who believes that God sees and knows all. The sense of His nearness is a moral force, a thousandfold greater than any other that can be named. He that thinks thus of His God is ever putting to himself the question whether God approves what he is about at any given moment. That saves him; it acts as a constant check; it is a lantern to his feet, a light to his paths, a bridle to his lips. And God knows we all need to be so held in. That communities are defiled, that the social order is imperiled, that men are shocked at the growing ravages of sin, and souls are ruined one by one, we may trace these things to their sole cause, the losing sight of the fact that God's eye is on them always, and that they are accountable to Him for what they do. Let the doctrine of God's providence be generally rejected, and it is only a question of time till that comes to pass again which once occurred in the days of Noah, when God saw that the wickedness of man was great, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. Here, then, is a truth which may be called the beginning of the moral law, the foundation of Christian ethics, the Alpha and Omega of Christian practice. The doctrine of God's providence is a stern and restraining doctrine.

But there is another side to the picture. To that shall we turn for the greatest comfort and peace that mortal man can know. "Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God?" "Ye are," continues the Master, "of more value than many sparrows." If one of them cannot fall to the ground unnoticed by our Father, how much more in His thoughts, (that is the evident line of argumentation,) are we, His children, made in His likeness, redeemed by His own precious blood. What should there be for us each day and hour but loving, unwavering trust. It cannot fail to impress every reader of his Bible how it dwells continually upon this very point. Our Lord knew what a burdensome world this is, and how easily perplexed men are. He has sought in all possible manner and ways to bring home to us the truth we are considering. He has given us precious and numerous promises. "Trust in the Lord and do good," is one of them, "So shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed." Another is: "Whoso putteth his trust in the Lord shall be safe." Still others: "My grace is sufficient for thee:" "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." These might be multiplied from the Scriptures by the score and hundred. And again He has sought to impress His divine providence upon us by numberless examples. There is, for instance, Noah. Noah trusted Him, and lo! when the fountains of the great deep were broken up, and the floods rose, and millions of the ungodly sank into a watery grave, sheltered and shut in by God's protecting hand, the ancient saint outrode the deluge in safety, with his family. Elijah, alone yonder in the wilderness, in time of famine, trusted Him, and, behold, even the ravens, divinely bidden, came flying with bread to feed him. And so David, and Daniel, and Peter, and all of God's illustrious saints whose biography the Bible records, put their trust in His governing providence, and never were ashamed, and their experience has been the universal experience and testimony of all who have ever really put their faith in Him, and that applies as much to us as to them. Come what will, the true and trusting child of God feels secure. "Have we trials and temptations, is there trouble anywhere?" Is ghastly pestilence mowing down its victims? Is financial depression over all the land, labor unobtainable, wages low, and bread scarce? Has sickness prostrated one? Has death broken the family circle, and is the heart bleeding under bereavement? In the midst of it all the Christian sees the wise, loving, all-governing providence of God, the almighty and all-gracious hand of His own divine heavenly Father; and in this assurance, that God is thus in all that befalls him, his soul is filled with abiding calmness. There is nothing, amid it all, which is more calculated to banish our cares, to throw sunshine across life's path, to make us more content, than the belief that our God holds the reins of universal rule, and that all is controlled and guided by His wise and kind hand.

And this, to conclude, also gives a Christian strength and encouragement in his work. The thought that God is near us, the feeling that He is working with us, gives an impulse, a force which nothing else can impart. To rise in the morning with that sense of divine presence, that God sees all our endeavors, is to take up one's work with an entirely different mood than where that feeling is missing. Nor are we then easily discouraged; it gives us renewed inspiration, the courage required for long, steady, earnest work.

We have considered a glorious truth of Christian doctrine from the lips of Him who never exaggerated, never erred. Lay hold of it, believe it, not languidly, but as a power in your lives, and be happy in such belief. Amen.

EIGHTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

O Timothy, keep that which is committed to thy trust, avoiding
profane and vain babblings, and oppositions of science falsely
so called.--_1 Tim. 6, 20._

Everything in this world is liable to be spoiled. There is nothing safe against the doings of corruption. The holiest things are often perverted, the richest flowers blasted in their bud. Man himself, as the Psalmist tells us, was made but a little lower than the angels, but his glory was soon tarnished, and he frequently sinks a little lower than the brute. There is none, though he appear as a veritable saint among men, who is beyond the reach of danger. And it is so also with religion.

Beautiful as is religion, and pure as it is, coming from the mind and bosom of God, it is liable to be spoiled in the hands and hearts of its professors. Such at least is the teaching of the text and the testimony of experience. Just like the crystal mountain stream in its course from the virgin spring down to the ocean gathers some of the unclean and filthy deposits of the shores it washes, so the waves of religion, in flowing through many lands and hearts, have taken up some of their noxious and poisonous ingredients; while purifying and refreshing the earth, the noble river contracts some of its corruptions. The Jews, for instance, had a pure religion, communicated to them by the patriarchs and prophets, but heathenish elements were continually mingling with it. Moloch and other hideous idols would now and then stand in the very presence of Jehovah's temple, and the priests of Baal oft took the place of the sons of Aaron. When Christ came, the Jewish religion was exceedingly tainted and corrupted with Gentileism and other defiling influences. The Christian religion in its turn has fared no better, starting out on the pure basis of its divine Master's directions; but it has been subject to the same influences. It was given to the world as a plain, simple system. But when kings and emperors began to take it into favor, magnificent outward ceremonies were instituted, privileged orders were appointed; bishops and other high authorities were set up, claiming extraordinary power, and at last what started as Christianity became little more than baptized heathenism. Masses, penances, and confessionals took the stead of Christ and His righteousness. In place of the old heathen gods were placed patron saints. Venus of the Greeks became Mary of the Christians. The true glory of the Church was gone, until God in His mercy turned back the tide to His own Revelation and Book, the Holy Bible. That was in the days of the Lutheran Reformation. But that did not settle matters; the soil of misguided religion and of man's perverted opinion has been defiling, and is still defiling, its pure and holy waters. It need not be. Christianity is as simple as simplicity can be, its teaching is as clear as is the sunlight in its noonday radiancy; but, of course, it must be guarded, protected against corruption on the part of man's delirious and sickly reason.

This is the caution St. Paul makes in our text to his beloved pupil Timothy, when he directs him: "O Timothy, keep that which is committed to thy trust, avoiding profane and vain babblings, and oppositions of science falsely so called, which some professing have erred concerning the faith." There are two classes of science falsely so called that have erred concerning the faith. The one is the worldly science, and the other the Christian Science, and concerning both classes I would ask for your most careful attention.

When speaking of science, it must be observed at the outset that true science and the Revelation of God are not at variance. How can they be? The Book of Nature and the Book of Religion have been written by one and the same Hand, and cannot contradict each other. What man by investigation can find out in nature cannot be of a character to make him doubt or deny the truthfulness of religion as laid down in the Bible. But this is what some of the men of supposed higher learning are doing. They look askance at religion. They shake their wise heads, and, putting on their eye-glasses, superciliously state that the Bible is not what people think it is. They are willing to admit that it is a book of much good history, a book of sublime poetry, a book of excellent moral precepts, a book which admirably describes human nature, a book from which all men may gather a great deal of practical wisdom and comforting promise, but many of its texts are spurious or faulty, it is not altogether up to date in their opinion. The geologist has bored into the earth, and found that the various compositions must make it much older than Moses seems to say. The astronomer has put his telescope into the heavens and finding our planet, the earth, the smallest among heavenly bodies, considers it too insignificant to be the object of all that divine concern the Bible speaks about. The anatomist has examined the skulls of dead men, and comparing the one with the other, questions whether they have all proceeded from one human pair. The natural historian has never found a race of snakes with power of speech, and so he puts down the account of the serpent in Eden as a myth. The people of the earth speak hundreds of languages, and hence it must be a mere dream that there was once a time when "the whole earth was of one language and one speech." Miracles, they say, are so contrary to the general experience of mankind that they must be rejected as falsehood and fiction, and thus might we continue to give the objections of these wiseacres, called scientists, who are looked up to with undisguised admiration by numbers. It would lead us too far, though nothing might afford us greater pleasure to examine these objections in their true light.--We will only ask, How do these wise people know what length of time it took the almighty God to form the various strata which compose the crust of the earth? How can they tell that this world of ours is too small to engage Jehovah so deeply for its welfare? How can they prove that the human race and language do not extend back to one common stock? How dare they deny the credibility of miracles in the face of the many wonders which are spread about them every day, and appear every season in their sight? What authority have they for their high-sounding, but hollow assertions? They think themselves wise, but in fact they are but babes in these matters, and those who follow them are their senseless dupes.

The truth is that with all the advances of knowledge which have so wonderfully marked the last three hundred years, searching heaven and earth and sea, knocking at every door and gathering wisdom from every source, there has not come to light one truth to contradict these holy records, or to require the relinquishment of one word in all the great volume of God. Only a few instances to prove what I state. It has been but a few years since Newton laid open the laws of gravitation, and yet the Scriptures spoke of the earth being hung "upon nothing," as if familiar with the whole subject, before human science had begun to form even the feeblest guesses in the case. Again, take the theory of wind currents, and of the circulation of the blood, why, read the 1st, 6th and 12th chapters of Ecclesiastes, and observe where Solomon describes it at least 2,500 years ago. And so in every case. You may lack understanding or research, you may fail to grasp its truth, by reason of its being too wonderful to you, but as far as being false and spurious, let no man dare to raise that charge against God's religion and Book. Our wisdom, at best, is only fragmentary, as St. Paul says, "We know only in part." No man, not even a scientist, is the personification of all wisdom, and ought not so consider himself. Let every man be a liar, but never accuse God's truthfulness. Avoid such, as St. Paul says in our text, as being profane and vain babblings and oppositions of science falsely so called.

This, then, as much as worldly science is concerned, and now let us turn to the other species which calls itself Christian Science, but which is neither Christian nor Science,--not Christian, because it has erred from the faith, as our text puts it, and not a science, because, to quote our text again, it is falsely so called. It might be well to approach the matter more closely. In the first place, it must be noted that Christian Science is nothing new; it is, to be candid, a rehash of what is termed in Church History, Gnosticism. In the early Christian Church, about the year 200 after Christ, there arose certain heretics, Montanus and his prophetesses Maximilla and Priscilla, who advocated theories and things similar to those in our days advanced with so much zealousness by the late Mrs. Mary Baker G. Eddy, the founder and high priestess of the Church of Christian Scientists. These heretical views referred to also found adherents in the early Church, so that the excellent Bishop Irenaeus, of Lyons, wrote a book against them called, "The Refutation of Christian Science falsely so called." Mrs. Eddy very deftly succeeded in bolstering up these ancient opinions, and launched them forth in the various editions of her book called "Science and Health, with a Key to the Scriptures." I have carefully gone over that book, and I confess I am overwhelmed with shame to think that any one who lays claim to Christianity or to well-balanced reason can earnestly believe such matter. To mention only a few of her doctrines:--The Bible says 1 John 5, 7: "There are three that bear record in heaven: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, and these three are one." Mrs. Eddy says: "The theory of three persons in the Godhead reminds us of heathen gods." In other words, she stamps the Christian doctrine of the Trinity as heathenish. The Bible says, Rom. 5, 12: "By one man sin entered into the world and death by sin, and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned." Mrs. Eddy calls this an "illusion," purely imaginary; there is no such thing as death. Naturally, then, in line with this, she also rejects Christ's redeeming us from sin, stating that the time is not distant when these common views about Christ's redemption will undergo a great change. In other words, while she mentions Christ's name with seemingly the greatest reverence in her book, she calls Him a fraud and deceiver, because the Bible tells us in just these words that Christ came to save His people from their sins, came to destroy the works of the devil, came to redeem them that were under the Law. But Mrs. Eddy spurns the existence of a personal devil, denies the existence of sin, and rejects redemption. Such passages as 1 John 1, 7: "The blood of Jesus Christ, God's Son, cleanseth us from all sin," are "hideous" to her. Her entire system is nothing else than unchristian bosh. I say "unchristian" because, on closer investigation, there is not a single particle of Christian doctrine and belief that she does not openly or indirectly at least overthrow. It is true, she claims "faith in the Bible"; the title of her book is, "Science and Health, with a Key to the Scriptures," but it is a key that binds, but does not unlock. Her comment to the very first verse of the Scripture: "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth," is this: "This creation consists in the developing of spiritual ideas and their identities, which are grasped and reflected by the unending Spirit." That may be Mrs. Eddy's creation of the world, but it certainly was not the creation which the first chapter of Genesis tells us about.

But let us go on to the second chapter of the Bible. This does not suit Mrs. Eddy, as she expressly states it is diametrically opposed to scientific truth, and "inspired by falsehood and error," and in consequence she rejects the second chapter of Genesis entirely. We could go on at this rate, but enough has been shown to characterize Mrs. Eddy's "Key to the Scriptures." And alas! that men should be carried away with such barefaced craftiness and such thick-coated and consummate falsehood! Oh, may it teach us to love to study our Bible!