Chapter XVI: Part 16

The other is this,--the sense of our obligation. He desires and commands us to do so. Everywhere in the Scripture of God do we find the matter of giving, especially for religious purposes, spoken of with commendation and inculcated as part of the very essence and life of true godliness, whether we look to the Old Testament or to the New Testament, to prophets, apostles, or Christ Himself, the language is the same. "Honor the Lord with thy substance, and with the first fruits of all thine increase." "To do good and to communicate, forget not, for with such sacrifices God is well pleased." In to-day's Gospel the Lord plainly enough says: "Render unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's, and unto God the things that are God's." In a certain sense it is all His, of course. "The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof." The silver and the gold are His. But it belongs to His wisdom and providence to make us His stewards in the disposition of His, and in that disposition He lays down very emphatically the law: "Render unto me the things that are mine." Every penny that we possess is stamped with the divine image and superscription. He still sits over against the treasury, and observes what we are putting into the receptacle, whether we are giving unto Him what it is our duty to give. These are, then, the motives,--gratefulness and dutifulness.

And now as to the _measure_, the amount of Christian giving--the how much. As we turn to the record, two parties are distinguished. The one wealthy.--"Many," it says, "that were rich cast in much." That the rich should give and gave largely, and that this was the case not with a few, but with numbers of them, was to their honor, especially since the practice has never been common, experience showing that "many that are rich do not cast in much." And the other, indigent, the poor, selected by way of a specific example--a widow.

The idea sometimes is that poor people ought not be asked to give. This is a mistake. Poor people can give, and ought to give, out of their poverty, as well as rich people ought to give out of their riches. Poor people can hurt themselves, and injure their souls, and prove themselves niggardly and illiberal by not giving just as well as rich people can. True, they cannot give as much as the more favored, in the actual amount of their gifts, but they _can_ give as much in proportion to their means.

We often hear people say, if they were only rich, willingly would they contribute to every good cause, and munificent things would they do with their money. But all such charitable words and sentiments are just nothing. The thing is to give the gift of poverty, if poor, without being ashamed of it, and not to sentimentalize about the great things we would do if we were rich. The fact is that few people ever get rich, and if wealth increases, desires, styles of living, and general expenses increase with it, and the wealthy man has so many expenditures, so many demands to meet, so many drains upon him, that he is just about as poor in his riches as he was without them. This is the plain fact in the vast majority of cases. Indeed, exceptions are very rare. It is, therefore, a mere matter of self-deception for people to talk how liberal they would be if they were rich. Moreover, what are we coming to if we regard only the rich as under obligation to give? No! Christian liberality is a thing for the poor as well as the rich, and for the most part facts prove that the poor are more liberal than the rich.

To come back to our text: Such were the donors our Savior recognized, both poor and rich. Let us note, furthermore, their contribution. While the rich gave much, the widow "threw in" only "two mites," which make a farthing, with us half a cent. It is easy to conceive what the givers themselves would think of their donations. The rich would be satisfied, imagining that they had done their duty, if not more than was required of them, while the poor widow would deem what she had done unworthy of notice, and, perhaps, felt ashamed to cast into the treasury such a mean trifle.

Others, too, who were lookers-on, had they known what the parties gave, would have extolled the one as prodigies of liberality, while they would have treated the other with neglect, or reproached her for giving what she could not afford. But how were those two mites viewed by Him whose eyes were as a flame of fire, and who searcheth the reins and the hearts?

"And He called unto Him His disciples, and saith unto them, Verily, I say unto you, That this poor widow hath cast more in than all they which have cast into the treasury. For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all she had, even all her living." At first this seems strange, and our Lord could not mean that she had given more than all the others as to quantity, but more as to motive, more as to principle, more, relatively, as to their condition and her circumstances; more comparatively.

These men had given much; they had done it of their abundance and superfluity, and could go home to houses filled with plenty, and to tables spread with delicacies, while she went home to a lonely apartment, and opening her cupboard, found little, and that the earning of her hard toil.

What an encouragement this! And the less favored in this world's goods require it. We have known persons remaining away from the house of God--this house of God--because they could only appear in workday clothing, and others who have been prevented from meeting with the congregation because they felt that they could not do what was expected of them. Let none such, however humble their condition, or limited their means, for a moment suppose that they are less regarded; let them beware of making the sad mistake that because they cannot do much, they are justified in doing nothing. The commendation of Mary was: "She hath done what she could," whereas the condemnation of the unprofitable servant was that because he did not have ten talents, or five, he failed to trade with the one he did have. It's not the inability that God judges you by, but by the indisposition to do what you have. In the light of these two mites let us take heart, and do what dutifulness and gratitude would prompt us to do toward His temple, knowing that it is a small thing that we should be judged by any man's judgment, but that He that judges us is the Lord.

And, again, our Lord's decision teaches us, in fact, seems to be the main inference to be drawn from the subject, that the rule with regard to liberality is proportion. These men gave "much" (much when the amount was considered, much according to their own opinion and their admirers); yet, was it much relatively? much compared with what others gave whose means were unspeakably less? What self-denial was there connected with it? "Charity," an old commentator remarks to these words of our text, "is to be judged of, not by what is given, but by what is left." These men gave of their abundance. They never felt it. True benevolence feels it. The widow did feel it; and many, I take it, among us feel it in the sacrifice of self-decoration, self-gratification, when they put their contribution into the plate in regular service, and occasionally a special donation, as on the Day of Humiliation and Prayer and Church Anniversary. That is the right kind of benevolence that feels it; those are the coins that count in God's treasury which have, as they ring in the basket, a piece of ourselves attached to them, stand for self-denial; that gives them their highest value,--not merely the 1, 5, or 10 stamped upon them.

Let each of the assembly here worshiping examine himself accordingly. There is no law in the case. Christianity does not tax, coerce, dictate how much in exact proportion to your income and means you ought to give. It is not for you to tell me how much I am to do for God and Church, nor for me to tell you. That is my business and yours, left to us individually. Only this are we to observe: All are expected to give, and all who are really touched with the Spirit of Christ and true religion give and will give, and it is for them to give in proportion as God has blessed them.

Giving is a thing of character, which, like every other, must grow little by little, more by more, until through diligent practice and repeated acts it becomes a habit. To give once in a while, impulsively, as one is moved by this or that plea, is good enough, but far more fruitful and blessed is systematic giving, however small the amount be at a time. The plan which has God's authority, and which has borne the most encouraging results, is the one which St. Paul has laid down in 1 Cor. 16: "On the first day of the week," on Sunday, when men's thoughts are turned from earth to heaven, from the things of this world to the next, when God's unspeakable gift is brought to our mind and our duties to the good Lord, then "let every one of you lay by him in store as the Lord hath prospered him."

To aid you in doing that, the system of envelopes has been introduced. The idea has never been to burden any one, to tax any one, or to prescribe to any one, but to present an easy and secure method for collecting what each one, in conscience and calmness, might consider his or her proper gift to the Lord and His treasury. The very boxes bear that name, "The Lord's Treasury," and I hope that each time as you scan the words you will think of the "widow's mites."

Nor do we have any reason to be dissatisfied with results. The waters that flow down the great Niagara with such rush and roar, and then sweep onward in deep majesty to the ocean are formed by countless brooks and rills and trickling streamlets and melting snows and little raindrops, and so the results that have all wrought for our congregation, and the amount upon which it is still largely dependent, comes from the small contributions of our members, regularly and systematically given. In view of the fact that a large indebtedness rests upon us, I feel warranted to bring this matter before you in the pulpit, asking for a faithful continuation of the plan.

"The widow's two mites"--what grand services they have accomplished, what an immense harvest of good they have brought forth to the whole world. Remembering how His all-seeing eye still scans the church receptacle, let us not allow selfishness, avarice, and a carnal greed to hinder what conscience dictates; rather let us strive to secure this commendation which this poor widow received, and be blessed in our deeds. Amen.

HUMILIATION AND PRAYER SUNDAY.

TEKEL: Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found
wanting.--_Dan. 5, 27_.

The words of our text connect with an account of Old Testament story which, if once heard, is never forgotten. The place was Babylon, a city so vast in extent that after its capture it was three days before the fact was known all over it. The scene was in the royal palace, a marvelous structure within the walls of which were the famous "hanging gardens," which the world has agreed to number among its "seven great wonders." There, in the most sumptuous of all his banquet halls, at a table groaning with the burdens of massive plate and the rarest and richest of viands and wines, reclined the proud and voluptuous King of Babylon, Belshazzar. Around him reclined a thousand of his lords and the fairest women of his harem. A more magnificent banquet was never given or enjoyed. Golden lamps, suspended from a ceiling, paneled with ivory and pearl, shed soft luster on walls pillared with statues, on a floor paved with alabaster, and carpeted with richest rugs from the looms of India, on couches mounted with silver and cushioned with velvet, on illustrious princes, gorgeous costumes, in the most bewildering splendor, whilst over it all floated the sweet strains of music and song. Every heart in that glittering company was wild with delight. No one seemed troubled with care.

In the midst of the feasting an impious deed suggests itself to the king's mind. Calling a servant, he orders him to bring the golden and silver vessels which his grandfather, Nebuchadnezzar, had carried away from God's altar in Jerusalem. They were brought and placed before him in a glittering row. They had been consecrated to the service of God centuries before, and had never been put to any common use. For any man to use them, unless he were a heavenly-appointed priest serving at the altar of Jehovah, would be sacrilege of the most damning kind, Belshazzar knew that, but he was resolved to insult Jehovah in the presence of that great company, and so, at his command, those consecrated vessels were filled with intoxicating drink, and he and his princes, and his wives and his concubines, drank from them, amid profane jests and ridicule, to the health of the god of Babylon, whose images of gold, silver, brass, and stone adorned the hall where the wild revel was held. Suddenly a cry of agony is heard. There sat Belshazzar, pale as marble, pointing to an object on the wall. With horror unutterable they look and see the fingers of a human hand slowly tracing a style across the wall,--that was all that was visible. The pen and hand vanished, and nothing remained but the writing. At that the banqueters stared, transfixed with speechless terror. No one in that drunken crowd was able to read it, until Daniel, the Lord's prophet, was summoned. This was the inscription: "Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin." The prophet gave their hidden meaning: "Mene: God has numbered thy kingdom and finished it. Tekel: Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting. Upharsin: Thy kingdom is divided, and given to the Medes and Persians." And so it was. That very night, by an underground channel, Darius the Mede entered the city of Babylon, and Belshazzar was hewn to pieces.

And is there nothing in this piece of ancient history, transferred to God's Book and interpreted by God's prophet, that has value and application to us? Is not everything that we find recorded in the Scripture written for our learning, our warning? Those four words, and particularly, the one chosen for our immediate devotion, "Tekel," has it no spiritual warning for us? We have met this morning for that very purpose--to weigh ourselves. Fifty-two Sundays--another year of grace has come and has departed in the church calendar--we are invited to solemn retrospect and thoughtful review, to consider what report we have to make. Let us, then, honestly and conscientiously, address ourselves to it on the basis of the text, and may God's Holy Spirit touch your hearts and solemnize your minds!

"Tekel: Thou art weighed in the balances." We all know what a balance is, a pair of scales. The beam is suspended exactly in the middle. The two arms are equal, and supplied with a pan, not to differ by a hair's thickness. If equal weights are placed in the two pans, the beam rests perfectly level. Such is God's balance. It is sensitive to the last degree. It weighs men's acts; it weighs men's words; it weighs men's thoughts; it weighs men's characters. It weighs them accurately, and every weight is set down in the book of divine memory. At the judgment on that Great Day that book will be opened, and every one shall be judged out of those things which are written in the book, according to their works. Ask you me the name of God's balances, I answer: Justice,--that's God's balance.

But in weighing there are two scales. On the one pan is placed that which is weighed, and in the other that against which it is weighed, the standard, the weight. And so God, in weighing man, uses weights which have been tested by a perfect standard. Conscience is such a weight, that "still, small voice" which speaks to you out of your own soul, that forceful monitor in your breast, that weighs against your acts and words and thoughts, excusing or else accusing you, from whose troubling thoughts you cannot escape, and which, as the saying is, makes cowards of us all. Conscience--that's one.

Another, heavier than the first--for it is made out of stone--we recognize at once: God's Ten Commandments, a holy standard. "Thou shalt have no other gods before me," reads the first line, and we know that means that an idolater is not he alone who bows down to rocks and stones; whosoever worships self in greed or manner, or bestows supreme regard for anything short of the true and only God, sets up an idol and is an idolater. And so he is not the only murderer, according to the sense and spirit of these tables, who has killed a fellow-mortal, but he already that hateth his brother, that indulges the malicious feeling, the revengeful desire. Nor is he the only lewd man who has given himself to lewdness, but according to this sixth line on that measure, the impure thought, the sensual look, and the cherished unchaste hope already fix the guilt of adultery. We observe, then, it is an exact weight, and so if all that a man has thought and said and done is up to the standard, the beam hangs level, and the divine face of the weigher is wreathed with smiles. If not, the Judge frowns, and from His lips issues the verdict: "Wanting!"

The third weight that God employs when He wishes to learn the avoirdupois of your soul is opportunity. Into one scale He puts the man's character and life; into the other He puts all the opportunities which he has enjoyed for getting and doing good. That includes such things as these: godly parents, godly example, a Christian school, Confirmation, the preaching of the true and pure Gospel, the faithful ministry of the Word and Sacraments. It includes bereavements, disappointments, startling events of Providence, losses of health, fortune, family, all of which were to direct you nearer to God. It includes every example of holy living which you have witnessed, every occasion presented you to glorify your Master and bless your fellow-men. All these and such like opportunities, impulses, and impressions to move the soul and bring it into saving harmony with God, make up the sum of his opportunities, and if the weight of what the man has done and is, equals the sum of all these opportunities, it is well; if otherwise, God's scale goes up, and the sentence is: "Wanting!"

And one more weight must be named. We shall not dwell lengthily upon it, for we can all see it so conveniently. It lies before me. Let us take it and put it into the pan of the scales--the Bible; as your Savior says: "Ye have Moses and the prophets,--ye have the Evangelists and Apostles,--hear ye them." That is your standard, your measure, placed against you; by its precepts you shall be weighed.

And now let us proceed to put something into the other side of the scale to counterbalance, and watch the result. Let us judge in the light of conscience, God's Law, our opportunities, and the Lord's Bible, our beloved congregation. They tell us that knowledge of one's self is one of the hardest and most unpleasant attainments, but the most needful and most salutary for all that. Weighing ourselves, what report have these fifty-two Sundays to give of our congregation as a whole and of you, my dear member, as an individual? How has it been with the worship, the attendance at services? Nothing to boast of, in most cases something to be ashamed of. Some are hovering near the verge of church discipline for their laxity and deficiency; particularly does this pertain to the male portion of the flock.

"Thou shalt sanctify the holyday," reads the third and unalterable command of their God, yet months pass at a time, and their face appears not in the assembly of the worshipers. But for the visitors and strangers, especially at the evening services, these pews would be deplorably depleted. Others come with a commendable degree of regularity, but is there participation in the services and punctuality in arriving? Do not the hymns drag along at times so dull and spiritless because many never open their lips? How listless and devotionless the hearers betimes appear, their eyes roaming about elsewhere, and even closing in sleep. Remember every attendance is weighed in the balance. Occasions when every member ought to regard it a loss to be absent, like Pentecost, Reformation, Easter, Church Dedication, little increase in the audience is noted. Announce a particular topic for the following Sunday, and it would seem as if some deliberately stay away. O what a poor thing it must appear in the case of the average Christian, of the most of us!

Is it much different--to take up another point--with our partaking of the Lord's Supper? What drudgery, what shrinking and hesitancy with regard to the sacred feast! The Lord says: "This do, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of Me." Paul the Apostle directs: "As oft as ye eat this bread and drink this cup." Luther, in his preface to the Small Catechism, thus interprets this "oft:" "If a person does not seek nor desire the Lord's Supper at least some four times a year, it is to be feared that he despises the Sacrament, and is not a Christian." Weighed in this balance, what shall we say of our Communion Table? How many times have you gone in these twelve months, these fifty-two Sundays? Observe the handwriting on the wall! Read those letters: "Wanting," and ask yourself, Does that mean me?

But permit me to pass briefly to an examination of your hearts and your homes. Have you grown in grace and in the knowledge of your Lord and Savior? Do the fruits of your discipleship abound in greater liberality and activity? Do you read God's Word at home, say grace at table, have family devotion? Are you increasingly imbibing and personifying the temper of your religion in the control of your passion, in the subduing of your pride, in the cultivating of a forgiving spirit? Do you pray thoughtfully, regularly, cheerfully? For you to live--is it Christ? As you grow in age, do you grow in heavenly-mindedness, draw closer to your God? To serve the Lord, to speak for Him, is this your delight? I need not press these inquiries. With each one of you the scale takes an upward turn, and I hear you saying with sighing of heart: "Enter not into judgment with Thy servant, O Lord," for this servant is wanting, _wanting_.

And what is to be done, with the scales always rising higher and higher and striking the very beam? First of all, repent; learn to understand and acknowledge your dismal condition. That was the fault with Belshazzar--his security and vain confidence; as God said to him through Daniel: "O Belshazzar, thou hast not humbled thine heart, but hast lifted up thyself against the Lord of heaven." Therefore, in the dust with thee! Let ours be the publican's cry: "God be merciful to me, a sinner!" "If Thou, O Lord, shouldst mark iniquity, O Lord, who shall stand?" With the balances suspended, God's Law, God's Bible, conscience, against us, repentance, conviction and confession of sin, is the first thing required of you. But that alone would lead to despair. Dear hearer, observe the scales as they are held by the stern and just hand of divine Justice, the one down, the other with man's soul, asking for mercy. Behold, another hand appears. It is a soft, delicate hand; in its palm is a wound, from that wound there oozes out a drop of blood upon the weighed and wanting soul. Instantly the scales go down, till the beam hands are evenly poised, and a voice is heard: "The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin." Faith in that blood, belief in Christ Jesus, your Savior, is the next thing necessary. And the last is renewed consecration, earnest, honest resolve with God's help to do better, firm determination that the incoming year of grace shall be characterized by a brightening of faith, an advance in holiness, a progress in all lines that grace a follower of Christ, that it find you at its close a more intelligent, a more humble, a more sanctified Christian than to-day.

Beloved, cast another look at the handwriting on the wall, lest it be written against you on the day of Judgment. Repent, believe in Christ, amend--in this may God help us! Amen.

REFORMATION.

His foundation is in the holy mountains. The Lord loveth the
gates of Zion more than all the dwellings of Jacob. Glorious
things are spoken of thee, O city of God. Selah.--_Ps. 87, 1-3._

The history of the Christian Church may be expressed in three words--Formation, Deformation, and Reformation. The first period begins with the story of the shepherds on Bethlehem's plains on Christmas night 1912 years ago, and ended with the establishment of the Church in cultured Europe and Asia and Africa.

As we pass the main occurrences of that first epoch of its formation, before our mind's eye, we see how the infant cause of Christ spreads from Jerusalem round about to the surrounding countries, conquering and to conquer. See how in her course of advancement she meets with opposition the fiercest and bloodiest; see how the blood of her children wets the sands of the amphitheater, and how their bones are crushed by the lions and wild animals of the arena, whilst the ashes of thousands of others strew the funeral pile upon which they died praying, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit."

Those were the days of persecution, when the church was despised and rejected of men. And yet, in the indestructibility of her life she overcame that opposition. Yea, as one said, "the very blood of the martyrs was the seed grain of her progress." Before the preaching of Christ fadeth the glories of heathenism, and where once stood in splendid magnificence the pagan temples of heathenish paganism was placed in its simple and sublime beauty the cross. The Galilean, the Carpenter's Son, God's Son, had conquered. The Church, in a word, had been established.

And then the view changes. A new period begins. Across the face of this period there is written in all directions one word. That word is _Rome_. It is Rome at the altar swinging the censer, Rome on the battlefield wielding the sword; it is Rome in the councils of kings, and Rome in the judge's seat; it is Rome in the professor's chair, and Rome in the children's nursery; it is Rome in the market stall telling what to sell, and Rome in the kitchen telling people what to eat and drink. It is Rome first, last, and all the time.

At Rome, styled the Holy City, the Mistress of the World, sat a triple-crowned dictator. Princes kissed his feet, and held the stirrups for him as he mounted his bediamoned horse. An emperor stands barefoot in the snow of his courtyard suing for forgiveness because he had dared to govern without his sanction, whilst his clergy, monks without number, swarmed in every place, all sworn to stand by him on peril of salvation, and themselves guarded from all reach of law for any crime they may commit. Gigantic, powerful, proud, wicked and wanton, haughty Rome, drunk with shocking abomination! That is the second period, the era of deformation.

Once more the view changes: Antichrist--for none else is the pope--is assailed by a poor, unknown monk in far-away Saxony. "Who minds a monk? 'Tis nothing." But, lo, the monk towers like a giant, and German princes are by his side, while a nation hangs on his lips. Tidings of great joy, like once from Bethlehem's plains, are again spreading from the little town of Wittenberg on the banks of the Elbe. Ninety-five theses nailed up by that monk against the church-door on the eve of October 31, 1517, are borne on the wings of the wind. How they talk about them in London, now in Copenhagen, now in the streets of Jerusalem. Men, women, youths, fearlessly give the lie to the priest whom they had dreaded too much before. Rome startled; she would use her old force. She would suppress the new teaching, which was nothing but the old truth repeated again. Of no avail! "She's judged. The deed is done." The Lord has smitten Antichrist with the breath of His mouth. The world is enjoying once more the pure and abundant Gospel preaching. A new life is upon the nations. The Church has entered upon another epoch. We call it the period of the Reformation. It is the topic of our concern and gathering to-day. And in order that we may duly grasp its meaning and appreciate its blessing, let us observe, on the basis of our text, _The glory of the Lutheran Reformation and Church_. That glory is threefold: _I. a glory of foundation_; _II. a glory of possession_; _III. a glory of prospect_. And may God help us understand and appreciate!

First, a glory of _foundation_. The psalmist, referring to the Old Testament Church, speaks of its foundation. So, too, the New Testament Church has its foundation. "Other foundation can no man lay," writes the Apostle, "than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ," the Son of God, God Himself. The work of redemption which He came into this world to perform is the foundation of our religion, our Church.

What our children learn from their Catechism: "I believe that Jesus Christ, true God, begotten of the Father from eternity, and also true man, born of the Virgin Mary, is my Lord, who has redeemed me, a lost and condemned creature, purchased and won me from all sins, from death and from the power of the devil,"--that is the heart and marrow of our faith, its foundation. This was the point Luther made in those ninety-five theses and in all the teachings, preaching, and writing that he did ever afterwards.

But does not the Church of Rome believe that too? My dear hearer, accompany me in spirit to one of their places of worship. It matters not in what direction we go, they are plentiful everywhere. We enter. Our Protestant eye looks for the Savior. Thank God He is still there. But what means that statue at His side--whose is it? Francis De Sales, St. Anthony of Padua, St. Vincent, St. Anna, St. Elizabeth. Have they forgotten the First Commandment which says: "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness to bow thyself down to them"? We look upon the assembled worshipers. What is it that they are holding in their hands, busily twisting the beads while their lips move in devotion? "Hail, Mary," they pray, "mother of God, queen of heaven." Why not Christ?--for there is only one Mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus.

As we stand there in observation amid the striking of little gongs, there enters, gorgeously arrayed, a priest. "Why a priest?" We, in the New Testament, according to the Bible, know of only one Priest, and that is He of whom the Apostle says: "Such an High Priest became us who is holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners." What does the priest do? He is offering sacrifice, in an unbloody manner, for the sins of the people. They call it "mass." But does not the Bible teach that "by one sacrifice," _viz._, by His sacrifice upon Golgotha, "Christ hath forever perfected them that are sanctified"? Why, then, this mass? Do they think they can, as they claim, improve upon, perfect, that propitiatory sacrifice?

Or, while we are en route, let us transfer ourselves in spirit a little further; let us go for a few moments to Rome. There sits a man whom they style "Holy Father." God's Word says: "Ye shall call no man in religion your father nor master upon earth. One is your Father," even He who is in heaven. "One is your Master--" Christ. This man at Rome claims that he is the vicar of Christ upon earth, with power to rule both the Church and the world. But, says Christ, "My kingdom is not of this world," and I, even I, am its only Head. And not only so, but in how many innumerable ways does this man at Rome contradict Christ! Thus: Christ, through His Spirit, says: A bishop, a minister, ought to be the "husband of one wife." "The husband of no wife," contradicts the pope. "It is a great wrong for a priest to marry." "Abstaining from meats," forbidding people to eat what they choose and at any time they choose, is "a doctrine of the devil," says Christ through His Spirit. "It is a sin to eat meat on Friday and throughout Lent," says the pope. "You must diligently pray and liberally pay, and then shall the souls of your beloved ones come out of purgatory." There is no such place, is the teaching of Christ, for instance, when He spoke to the thief on the cross: "To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise." "I have redeemed you with my holy, precious blood and with my innocent suffering and death." Let your only hope and constant prayer be:

Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness
My beauty are, my glorious dress.
'Midst flaming worlds, in these arrayed,
With joy shall I lift up my head.

"Not so," says the pope. "Heaven and salvation do not depend only upon what Christ has done, but much depends upon what _you_ have done." "If any one saith," so reads the decree of Rome, "that we are justified, saved, by faith alone, let him be anathema--cursed." Your good works must help along. It is only as you do _this_ and give _that_, buy indulgences, pay for some holy candles, appropriate of your earnings an adequate amount to the Church, remember it in your last will and testament, and set apart a certain sum for the reading of mass,--it is only thus that you can expect to die in peace and your soul find its way to heaven. Now, beloved, we leave it to the smallest child--is this making Christ the foundation? And it was against this that Luther protested in the ninety-five theses which he nailed up 395 years ago; and it is against this that we would raise our voices and pen. Jesus Christ and His work of redemption--He shall be our foundation. "Ave Marias?" No! Saints and popes? No!

All hail the power of Jesus' name,
Let angels prostrate fall.
Bring forth the royal diadem
And crown Him Lord of all.

Again, our Church not only glories in its foundation, but likewise in its _possessions_. And what does it possess? Look upon the imposing churches and cathedrals of Rome, those stupendous hospitals and institutions of one kind and another. What wealth of property, what revenues and revenues of silver and gold! Who will dispute that Rome is rich, possesses much? But since when are silver and gold and splendid edifices the marks of the Church? If those things constituted true churchliness, then none would have been more despicable than the early Christians, for they had no churches and worshiped in catacombs and the recesses of darkest forests. If pompous ceremonies and spectacular display and strains of fine music stand for the worship of God, the same might be seen and heard in Jewish temples.

Over against this, what possessions does our Church glory in? To mention a few. Open before us lies this holy Book, God's Book, accessible to all, inviting examination and study of its sacred pages, and that in a language not foreign, Latin, Greek, or Hebrew, but intelligible to all its hearers and readers. Rome would not so have it. It forbids its reading, and calls it a dangerous book. It adds to its infallible teachings the traditions of men, and wants all its pages read through the eye-glasses of the pope. It has always been, and still is, to them an "unknown" Book. You have, perchance, already seen the picture, quite familiar, which, beneath the title "Caught," represents an aged man and his little grandchild reading the Bible while some soldiers are seen entering the room to arrest them. The story that connects with it is this: Philip the Second of Spain and the Netherlands had sworn the pope that no Protestant should be allowed to live in his provinces. In a little town in Holland lived a good old man with his grandchild Bertha, who had become believers in the doctrines of the Reformation, and since the Bible was forbidden to be read and everywhere taken from the people, the only time for them to strengthen themselves with its sacred contents was the dead of night. They were just reading the fifth chapter of Matthew, wherein occur the words: "Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven," when a rough knock on the door tells them that the Roman spies had discovered them. "Grandfather," cries the child, "we are caught." "Yes, my child. God's hour seems at hand." And it was. The next moment the axes of the soldiers had battered down the door; the Bible was seized and burned, the aged man and his little granddaughter were hurried off to prison, and were tortured and afterward stretched on the rack until they died amid horrible pain. That is Rome's attitude toward the Bible. Thank God, then, for this blessed possession, a free Bible, which we read everywhere and at all times.

Then, too, there is the blessed Sacrament, not in its mutilated shape, the lay people deprived of the cup, but in both species. We possess that. Furthermore, our services. Take those stately and sublime hymns that are the inspiration and comfort of a Protestant Christian. The Romish Church knows them not, the people do not sing at their services. They are deprived of that. Then, when we pray--what a possession, the privilege of free, unlimited, and direct access to God's throne, without the intercession and intervention of priests and patron saints, but according to Christ's invitation and commandment: "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

Here, then, are a few of the many blessings we glory in, wrought and brought back to us through the Lutheran Reformation, and for which on this day we thank and praise God.

And now a few words yet as to the third part mentioned, the glory of _prospect_.--When Luther closed his eyes, our haughty enemies predicted the death of the Lutheran Church. As a Romish priest once said to a Lutheran peasant, "With your Church it will soon be 'Matthaei am letzten,'" that is, Matthew the last, which is a German expression meaning, "Things will soon be at an end with you." The peasant remarked, since he was acquainted with his Bible, "That's splendid!" In Matthew, the last chapter and the last verse, our Savior says: "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." Our Church has come to stay, for it is Christ's Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against that. Great in membership, numbering millions of souls, spread throughout every people and nation, her faith proclaimed in nearly every dialect and tongue of earth, great is her prospect.

Take it in this land of ours. Men are awakening more and more to an appreciation of her history and progress and power. In this age of unsettling of creeds and of abandonment of time-honored convictions, in the age of sensationalism and of pulpits which have no messages, except those of political and sociological interest, the old Church of the Reformation stands where she ever stood. Mr. Roosevelt remarked while he was President of the United States: "The Lutheran Church is of very great power numerically and through the intelligence and thrift of its members; but it will grow steadily to even greater power. It is destined to be one of the two or three greatest in the United States."

If, then, to conclude, any of you have been ashamed of her, apologized for being Lutherans, perchance even been casting their eyes in other directions for church-fellowship, if any of us have not been as loyal as we ought to have been, neglected her glorious possessions, indifferent to the high blessings she affords in Word and Sacrament and services, let him and her reflect and amend.

May it be our heartfelt conviction and determination:--

My Church, my Church, my dear old Church!
I love her ancient name,
And God forbid a child of hers
Should ever do her shame.
Her mother-care I'll ever share,
Her child I am alone,
Till He who gave me to her arms
Shall call me to His own.

Amen.