Chapter VI: Part 6

But how can the lamb cope with the lion? How can we expect to conquer that enemy who conquered our first parents in the strength of their original purity? Truly, "With might of ours can naught be done, soon were our loss effected." And yet we have nothing to fear. We have a precious ally, we battle under a valiant, an unconquerable Leader. The Lord of Hosts is with us, just so we are firm in the strife and rightly use the weapons He has furnished us. And which are these? Reading the 13th verse of our text, we find it distinctly mentioned: "And Joshua discomfited Amalek and his people with the edge of the sword." And which is our spiritual sword? For our enemy being spiritual, it is evident our weapon must be likewise. Saint Paul gives answer when he says in Ephesians: "Take the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God." Here, then, Christian warrior, is a weapon, better than Damascus blades. With this our Lord defeated Satan in the wilderness; with this St. Peter pierced the hearts of thousands on Pentecost; with this St. Paul made Felix tremble, and Agrippa, as he confessed to Paul, was almost persuaded by him to become a Christian; with this Martin Luther prevailed against the son of Belial and his besotted minions. Grasp it firmly, wield it vigorously. Or do you claim you do not know how? Then permit me to give you a few general directions. You are all familiar with the story of David and Goliath,--how the great champion of the Philistines daily came forth, cursing and challenging the people of God, until one day a shepherd lad of Bethlehem comes into the camp and with a stone from his sling stretches the huge form of the giant flat upon the ground. You, my beloved, are spiritual Davids; the smooth pebbles you have gathered up from the brook of God's Word are the holy Ten Commandments; learn to sling these aright, and you are invincible. Are you, for instance, tempted to speak the Lord's name irreverently, then place pebble, called the second, in your spiritual sling, which says: "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord, thy God, in vain," and your tempter will fall flat like Philistia's giant. Are you tempted to negligence, indifference in regard to the Lord's day and the Lord's house, take No. 3. Would Satan tempt a young Christian to disobedience, to indecency, or an old Christian to dishonesty, intemperance, coveteousness,--whatever the sin may be, select the proper pebble, and victory is yours. "This world's prince may still scowl fierce as he will, he can harm us none, he's judged, the deed is done, one little word can fell him." Then, too, let us remember that we are "more than conquerors through Him that loves us." In His strength let us battle. When the devil would deceive us, or seduce us into misbelief, despair, and other great shame and vice, let us cast ourselves upon Him who vanquished the Evil Foe. His cross is our strength. Let us hold that up before him, and he will skulk away in sullen retreat. The precious Gospel of Christ will quench all the fiery darts of doubt, unbelief, and despair which the hellish enemy would shoot into our hearts. Thus with the Law and the Gospel we can conquer him.

Nor is this all. Another powerful weapon is placed at our command. Most graphically does our text describe it when it says: "And Moses, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of the hill. And it came to pass, when Moses held up his hand, that Israel prevailed; and when he let down his hand, Amalek prevailed." The Israelites would not have conquered had they not fought. But the other is equally as true: they would not have conquered had Moses not prayed. The real decision in the matter seemed not so much in the conflict in the valley as with the man of prayer, the suppliant on the mountain. And here, my dear Christian, still rests your power. Much as people may sneer at prayer in these atheistic and skeptic times, prayer is the hand that moves the world. "Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon his knees." Our Lord warning Peter addresses him, "Simon Peter, behold, Satan hath desired to have you that he may sift you as wheat; but I have prayed for thee"; and His constant exhortation in the sore hour of Gethsemane was, "Watch and pray lest ye fall into temptation." How many a one when he asks himself, How was it possible that I should have fallen so deeply and strayed so far from my God? will hear his conscience whisper: You had grown indifferent, neglectful in your devotion and your prayers, and hence came your failure. Prayer must be incessant and mutual. Two are better than one, and a threefold cord is not quickly broken. Moses, Aaron, and Hur, together they prevailed. Where man and wife join in sacred communion to the God of families, His blessing will rest upon them, and the Evil One be kept at bay. Where a congregation is strong in devout and earnest looking to God, it can accomplish wonders against the Prince of Darkness and the wickedness of the world. When the day closed and the sun had sunk beneath the battle-ground in Rephidim, the victory was won; Amalek was defeated. It was Israel's first achievement, but not their last. Amalek continued to harass them, and even Saul and David had to take up arms against them. Nor is it different with us. The spiritual campaign lasts "until we draw our fleeting breath, till our eyelids close in death"; hence, "from strength to strength go on, wrestle, and fight, and pray, tread all the powers of darkness down, and win the well-fought day." And if at times your hands would grow weary and your knees weak amidst the conflict in the valley, then look up like Israel of old to the mountain from whence cometh your help, to that blessed knoll where hangs our divine Moses with his arms extended,--look up to the cross. Amen.

SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT.

Demas hath forsaken me, having loved this present world.--_2
Tim. 4, 10._

There is nothing sadder, my beloved hearers, nothing more calculated to strike dread into the heart, than the punishment of a deserter in the army. The offender is led before his regiment, and after the rehearsal of his disgrace to his fellow-soldiers, his arms are pinioned, his eyes bandaged, and an open coffin stands ready to receive his lifeless body. The file of soldiers aim at the one fluttering heart, and the lightning-like death ends the dreadful scene.

And why is a deserter's doom made so awful? Simply because the crime of desertion is so great, its demoralizing effect which it would have on the army so fatal, that it must be punished in the most telling and fearful manner. History, both sacred and secular, has put no deeper brand of infamy than on deserters. Benedict Arnold stands forth as an instance of the one, Judas Iscariot as an instance of the other. American history holds up the one before us, bandaged, pinioned, shot through with the bullets of a nation's abhorrence and malediction, whilst the other, Judas, is a name detested as far as the Bible is read and to the day of doom.

In our text we read of another deserter. His name is Demas, and the Apostle Paul has set the mark of infamy upon him.

Who, we question, was this man Demas? And what was the nature of his offense? We know very little of his early career, but that little is most favorable. He had been an associate of St. Paul in the ranks of Christ's followers. Paul more than once makes honorable mention of his name. When he wrote his letter to the Church at Colossae, he coupled the name of Demas with that of St. Luke. He thus writes: "Luke, the beloved physician, and Demas greet you," which shows that he must have been favorably known in the Church, and that his greetings must have been highly thought of, else would the apostle not have forwarded them through his own letter.

And one more fact do we know of him. He not only professed love toward Christ, but he had once suffered for his Christian profession. He most likely had worn the honorable mark of prison chains in the name and for the sake of Christ. In his letter to Philemon, St. Paul, remembering his companions in suffering, writes: "There salute thee Epaphras, my fellow-prisoner in Christ Jesus; Marcus, Aristarchus, Demas, and Lucas, my fellow-laborers." So the apostle once wrote from a Roman prison of Demas, and it was from the same prison that he afterwards sadly penned these painful words: "Demas hath forsaken me." And why? Did his health fail? Did he go to labor elsewhere? Paul tells us: "Demas hath forsaken me, having loved this present world." There we have the reason, and it is one that we shall more clearly regard in our instruction these moments.

On the previous Lord's day we considered the first great enemy of our soul, Satan. To-day we come to the second, the world, reserving the third, the flesh, God willing, for next Sunday. To deal practically and directly with the matter, let us ask the questions: _I. What is worldliness, and how can I tell whether I am worldly or not?_ _II. How can I overcome my worldliness?_ And may God's wisdom and blessing attend our meditation!

If we read our Bible carefully, my beloved, we shall be impressed, overwhelmed by the number of Scripture passages which refer to God's people and their relation to this world. These passages are found in the Old Testament and in the New, and they are plain-spoken, their own interpretation. In the Old Testament they are such as these: "Deliver my soul from men of the world, who have their portion in this life." "And ye shall be holy unto me, for I, the Lord, am holy, and have severed you from other people, that ye should be mine."

In the New Testament we find the passages still more explicit and manifold. To begin with, there is nothing that Jesus teaches with greater frequency or with greater positiveness than this fact, that we are to be unworldly in our Christian life. "Ye are not of the world," He declares, "for I have chosen you out of the world." "Ye cannot serve God and mammon." "What shall it profit a man if he should gain the whole world and lose his own soul?"

And as the Master, so His apostles. "Be not conformed," exhorts Paul, "to this world." "Be not unequally yoked together with unbelievers." "Come out from among them, and be ye separate." James writes: "The friendship of the world is enmity with God. Whosoever will be a friend of the world is the enemy of God." "True religion before God is to keep oneself unspotted from the world." And to finish our quotations with the words of St. John: "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any one love the world, the love of the Father is not in him." There is nothing uncertain about these statements. Their teaching is clear. They declare that there is a broad and ineffaceable line of demarcation between the people of God and the world. They are so far apart that no man can belong to both at the same time. To try to do so produces an absurd piety and a sham, is as foolish as trying to mix light and darkness, oil and water. They refuse to mix. It means either--or, one or the other. Either Christianity will have the sway, and it will conquer and eradicate the world, or the world will have the sway, and it will efface Christianity. The world proposes a compromise, it is true, but the compromise always means death; that is why it proposes it. How imperative, then, that we should analyze what worldliness is and plant an interrogation in our heart: Am I worldly?

What, then, is worldliness? There are some who have no difficulty whatever in defining it. "Worldliness," why, that's easily explained; going to races, theaters, balls, playing euchre and dressing flashily--that's it. No doubt it is; but worldliness does not confine itself merely to theaters and balls, cards and dress. There are hundreds of people who have never been inside of a ballroom, rarely or never attended a theater, and yet they may be intensely worldly for all that. Worldliness implies something vastly more and deeper. It is something which affects not only the external acts of a person, but the heart; something which is determined by the spirit with which we do things, and not so much by the things with which we have to do. It is not the earth, the objects and the people that fill this earth, that we may not love, but the way in which we love these objects and people that constitute the world. "Worldliness," I answer, is a condition of the heart.

Let us look into this a little closer. It has to do with the inner spirit of the man or the woman. Demas' mistake was that he loved the world. Did not Paul love the world? Did he not love it when he renounced ease, gain, promotion, and station, and threw his whole soul into the holy effort of saving a poor lost world for Christ? Do we not read that God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son? And that only-begotten Son, did He not love the world when He gave His heart's blood to redeem it? Yes, they loved it and showed their love by lifting it out of its sinful and guilty condition. In the same way you and I may love the world that we may do it good, and so give more of our time, money, talents, and energy to win it back to God.

But that was not the love that brought Demas to fall, and against which we are warned. No, something quite different,--the world's ways, maxims, aims, ease, pleasures, and fascinations. Tradition tells us that Demas afterwards became a priest in a heathen temple. If so, it was no doubt because he found more gain in silver and gold than in the service of Christ. How do you regard the things of the world in your heart, and how do you regard the people of the world? That is what determines worldliness. If you love pleasure better than your prayers, any book better than your Bible, any house better than God's, any person better than your Savior, you are worldly. You are surrounded by people who do not fear God, who do not keep His commandments, who have no treasure in heaven, no plans or purposes which extend beyond the grave, minus faith, minus hope, minus all spiritual life,--what is your attitude toward such? Do you make your choice of friends from these professed worldly men and women? If so, you are worldly. I assure you some of our worst foes are our ungodly friends.

Then, you may reply, we cannot go into society at all, we must live secluded lives. The Bible does not say that. What it says is that, when we go into society, we ought to take our Christianity with us. Our Lord went into society, and wherever He went, they felt the sacredness which was about Him. You go into society, what is the result? Do you influence it, or are you influenced by it? What effect has it upon your religious life and professions? Does it secularize you and make you unfit for prayer? Does it silence your testimony of Christ, and cool down your interest and enthusiasm for the Church? Know, then, that it is making you worldly. A woman who cannot be recognized in society as a Christian by her modest dress and her pure ways, and the tone and topic of her conversation, is a worldling. The man who can do business, and not be known as a Christian by his business scruples and methods and spirit, is a worldling. If a worldling can truthfully say of you, "He is no better than I am," you are a worldling. If you live as a worldling, you are a worldling. That needs no argument. But, after all, be it noted that, however it manifests itself in manner, dress, social companionship, and conduct, worldliness primarily is a temper, spirit, and disposition of the heart. "As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he." The world would have done Demas no harm if he had not loved it. It will do us no harm as long as we keep it out of our hearts. But here is where lurks the very danger,--it so easily, so silently, and very gradually insinuates itself into the heart. To use an illustration: In olden times the sailors, a race given to superstition, used to tell that somewhere in the Indian Ocean there was a magnetic rock that rose from the deep with power of attraction. Silently a ship was drawn towards this rock, nearer and nearer, and gradually one by one the bolts were drawn out of the vessel's side by the magnetic power. The end was that, when the doomed vessel had drawn so near that every bolt and clamp was unloosed, the whole fabric fell apart, and the crew and cargo would sink down into the waters.

So stands the magnetic rock of worldliness, enchantments, and fascinations. Its attraction is slow, silent, and yet powerfully it draws the soul that comes within its range. Under its spell, bolt after bolt of good resolutions, clamp after clamp of Christian duty are drawn out, until at length the whole structure of Christian profession falls together, a pitiable wreck. Attracted by the things of time and sense, the affections become chilled, the mind step by step full of the world.

O for the poor victims, thousands of them, equally as promising, that have foundered like this unfortunate Demas! We can see them floating everywhere on the surface of society, like spiritual driftwood, alas! see them in the church keeping up a little outward appearance and forms of religion, but generally found absent from their pew and taking little or no interest in matters of the Church.

And in what way, coming to the second consideration, may we overcome this dangerous evil, worldliness? The Bible does not leave us without answer. As worldliness is a disposition of heart, it first aims at that. We are not to spend our time in saying this is worldly and that in formulating absolute and universal rules and binding church-members to them. It is not so much a matter of correct outward conduct as of correct inward principles. If the blood is in good condition, the complexion will be. If the heart is right, the conduct will be, and so the Apostle, getting at the root of the cause, says: "Be not conformed to this world, but be ye transformed," by the renewing of your minds. Christianity is a spiritual power. When the soul opens to it, the Holy Spirit resets and new-creates the spirit of the man, so that he looks away from earth to heaven, and from the things of this world to the things of God and eternity. Another bent is given to his feelings and his aims. He walks in the light of a new sun. He feels the presence of a new law drawing him in a different direction. He sees with other eyes, estimates things by another rule, and is moved by other principles. And as he yields to this new graft upon his nature, he instinctively realizes what is contrary to it. He does not need outward rules, it is plainly told him from within. The written Word is at hand to direct in many cases, and in questions of doubt the honest consultation of his own moral sense, the life of faith in the soul, will tell him where the line is to be drawn between him and the world.

And to mention one other way. If you would overcome worldliness, look after your associations. The Bible is full of admonitions and illustrations to that effect, but one perhaps stands out in boldest type, the story of Lot. He moved out of his simple patriarchal life into Sodom, the world center of his age, and the result you know. His family became hopelessly worldly, he himself without influence and power among men, and the end was destruction of his estate and judgment upon his unfortunate wife.

If not quite as disastrous, the result is always the same in character. Keep godly associations and connections, attend to the house of God. We need the fellowship of God's people to respiritualize and recharge our depressed Christian lives. It should be a place of strengthening to you. Make its people your special companions and confidants; have some from among its membership with whom you are on terms of intimacy and friendship. It is wonderful how much we are influenced by our environment and fellowship; let us, then, be careful to live with God and with God's people.

To conclude,--God help us by His grace and Holy Spirit so to live in this world as to live above it and look beyond it, diligently use the means He has given us for strength and fidelity, and preserve us from the deadly snare of that great enemy of our soul, the godless, Christless world. Nor, let us ever remember, can we successfully meet this enemy without looking for strength to that divine source upon which our eyes are centered at this season, the cross of our adorable Savior. He that kneels in devotion at the foot of the cross, that has the love of Him that suffered and died for us upon that cross spread abroad in his heart, cannot divide that heart with his rival, and enemy, and obtain force and power to combat against his assaults. Without Him we can do nothing. With Him we can prevail.

Grant that I Thy passion view
With repentant grieving,
Nor Thee crucify anew
By unholy living.
How could I refuse to shun
Every sinful pleasure,
Since for me God's only Son
Suffered without measure?

Amen.

THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT.

Now when the Pharisee which had bidden Him saw it, he spake
within himself, saying, This man, if He were a prophet, would
have known who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth
Him; for she is a sinner.--_Luke 7, 39._

Our Lord was reclining at a social meal in the house of Simon the Pharisee, when, unbidden, a woman enters the room, and, standing at the feet of Jesus, bursts into tears. She had not come for that purpose, but stationed aside of the Lord, she was so overcome that she could not restrain her emotion, and as the tears fall thick and fast upon the feet of her Lord, she wipes them with her hair, and kissing them, anoints them with costly ointment. The whole transaction is so simple and touching that we feel at once interested in the stranger. It is a question much discussed by Bible students who this woman was. It has been said it was Mary Magdalene, but that is a mistake; nor was it Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus of Bethany. Her name, for wise and kind reasons, is withheld from the Church. But we are not left entirely in suspense about her history.

From several incidents in this chapter we infer that she lived in the City of Nain where our Lord raised up the widow's son. Furthermore, we are told that she was a sinner; that means here, she had abandoned herself to a life of sin and impurity, and finally, it seems quite probable, judging from the precious quality of the ointment used, that she was a person of some wealth and fortune. What fixes our attention most is that she was a sinner, and a penitent sinner at that. What was the precise character of her transgression we are not told; but whether she had been an adulteress, or, being unmarried, had yielded to her depraved dispositions, and was leading a life of criminal voluptuousness, one thing is certain, she had reason to weep and lament. If she was guilty of the former,--adultery, unfaithfulness to her own spouse,--what opinion must a woman form of herself that has committed this offense? And if she was guilty of the last-named transgression, prostitution, no tears could have been too bitter. Human words fail to describe the condition of a woman who has arrived at such a depth of dissoluteness as to eradicate every degree of modesty, hand herself over to infamy that overthrows the whole social life, and converts mankind into a state of putrefaction and decay. If there is one offense that is calculated to become a perpetual source of sorrow, piercing the heart with thousand arrows of sad reflection and remorse, fixing daggers in the souls of loving parents, and covering one's family with public disgrace, it is the offense which defiles the most sacred and inviolable relation of human life. And however it may be done, we ought never to speak of such crime in the way of extenuation. Holy Scripture characterizes such not as pitiable, but as criminal, not as imposed upon, but as deceiving, not as corrupt, but as corrupters, the only course for whom is to do as this penitent, prostrate themselves in tears at the feet of Him who will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax.

These introductory remarks point to us the topic which shall employ our further contemplation this morning. We have considered the first great enemy of our souls, the devil, that wicked spirit who walketh about seeking whom he may devour, and the second, the world, and now we come to the third, the flesh, in contemplating which _we shall note a few of the most prevalent forms in which it manifests itself_, and secondly, _how we may overcome it_. May God grant His divine blessing!

There are topics, my beloved, which if a minister treats of them, he will be regarded indelicate and forward, and which if he does not treat of them, he will be charged with timidity and neglect of duty. His course, however, is clear. As a faithful steward of divine truth, he must declare the whole counsel of God, irrespective of criticism and fear, lest any man's soul be required at his hands. No diligent attendant of God's house will have failed to have marked the reigning note in the Epistle readings of the last Sundays. That note is a call to purity and sanctity of life. "Abstain from fornication,"--"But fornication and all uncleanness, let it not be once named among you, as becometh saints, for ye know that no whoremonger nor unclean person hath any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God,"--solemn words, and not superfluous words either, as little now as then, or since the beginning of man's sinful career. We turn to the pages of Holy Writ,--what is it that brought on that most terrible calamity, all except eight persons going down in the waters of a universal flood? The sacred volume answers: "When man began to multiply on the face of the earth, the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair, and took them wives of all which they chose. Then it repented the Lord that He had made man," and the judgment was let loose for destruction. What was it that caused Sodom and Gomorrah, the cities of the plain, to go down in fire and brimstone? The still gurgling sea of salt and death gives back the answer of its brutality and uncleanness. What caused the twenty and three thousand to perish in one day, their white carcasses to strew the wilderness sand? Moses tells us: fornication, sensuality, and impurity. And who is not bent with grief as he reads of David and of Solomon? And the hearts of mankind are as full of impurity now as then, in thoughts, words, deeds, and dress. There are spectacles to be seen in places of amusement, there are reports to be read in our public prints, which indicate little or no improvement, though decking themselves with the name of Christian and moral. What St. Paul wrote: "It is a shame even to speak of these things which are done of them in secret," is still true and too true, alas! of some professed Christians.

Fire, my beloved, is a most valuable, an indispensable agent of the human race. What would we do without it? But fire must remain within bounds. Woe if it overleaps them! Then it becomes a terrible and destructive power! Man's body, likewise, is a great and noble instrument, a fine handiwork of God, with powers for good; but it must remain within its bounds, it must always be kept as a servant in subjection. Woe to man's happiness and the welfare of others when it overleaps its legitimate bounds, and the servant becomes the master, a tyrant, and a destroyer! "I keep under my body and bring it into subjection," says Paul. Our great business as Christians is to learn to control our body, its lusts and desires; to subdue and master it, to bring it into a pure and honorable service, above and beyond its own miserable gratification. "Dearly beloved," writes St. Peter, "I beseech you as strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lusts which war against the soul." Yes, back in the days of Mount Sinai, God voiced His will in words of fire and thunder on stony tablets: "Thou shalt not commit adultery," which means we are to lead a chaste and decent life in word and deed, and each curb, guard, and control the sinful desires of the flesh.

Nor is this unchastity, the overstepping of the proper relation between the sexes, the sinful indulgence of man's lower nature, the only temptation that comes from the flesh. From the long list enumerated by the Apostle in his letters we shall select one other.

That is _intemperance_, the too free indulgence in stimulating drinks. Nor can it be questioned that a word in this respect is occasionally in place. The history of strong drink is the history of ruin, of tears, and of blood. It is perhaps the greatest curse that ever scourged the earth. Other evils have slain their thousands, but this has slain its tens of thousands. It is simply impossible to picture the crime of which it is the cause. It is the Mississippi among the rivers of wretchedness. It is an evil which is limited to no age, no nation, no sex, no period and call of life. It has taken the poor man at his toil and the rich man in his palace, the statesman in the halls of legislature, and the workingman on the street, the preacher in the pulpit, and the layman in the pew, and plunged them into a common ruin.

Since the time that Noah came out of the ark and planted vineyards and drank of their wines, nearly five thousand years ago, we see the foul and murderous track, destroying some of the mightiest intellects, some of the happiest homes, some of the noblest specimens of man. It has supplied every jail, penitentiary, almshouse, and charity hospital with inmates, and flooded every city with bestiality and crime. It empties the pockets, disgraces the character, brutalizes the affections, brings disease to the body and poison to the intellect. It does infinitely worse,--it bars the soul out of heaven; for thus it is written: "No drunkard shall enter the kingdom of heaven."

Such is the result of appetites indulged, what it means when the flesh gains the supremacy, when a person turns himself over to become a slave of his lusts and excesses. Nor let any one say as he looks upon such a miserable victim of this vice: "I shall never be like him." God grant that we may not, but "let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." The drunkard once thought the same. No one can be certain that he will not yet fill a drunkard's grave, unless he learn and employ the lessons which God has given us to overcome this enemy, the flesh.

And which are these lessons, and how may this enemy be overcome? We shall mention two. The first is this: "Keep thy heart with all diligence." Our enemies are not only without, they are within. It is our Savior who remarks: "Out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adultery, fornication," and other shameful sins. And the enemies within are the more dangerous, just as a traitor in our city is worse than the enemy without the walls. So, then, our first attention must be given to that. Keep, _i. e._, watch, garrison the heart.

How? Keep from thoughts and purposes of sin. As long as we live in this sinful body, in the midst of a perverse generation and unchastisement, our eyes will behold scenes, our ears hear language, our imagination suggest pictures that are impure and lewd, but it's for the Christian to watch that such gazes of the eye do not become purposeful, not to permit the imagination loose reins and range, that unvirtuous thoughts are not indulged in, but repressed; as Dr. Luther expresses it: "You cannot prevent the devil from shooting arrows of evil thoughts into your heart, but take care that you do not let such arrows stick and grow there."

The young Christian, who buys a ticket to the average theater, with its abounding sensualities, has no right to complain if his imagination is impure. Can any one take coals of fire into his bosom and not be burned, handle pitch and not be soiled? The man and woman who delight in reading lewd books, sensational, spicy newspaper reports, who gaze upon indecent pictures, suggestive sights as they are euphemistically termed, who listen to smutty stories, evil communications, foolish jestings, as St. Paul calls them; the woman who mixes in loose company, dresses indecently, and allows the thoughts to dwell upon any subjects which connect with such sin, need not wonder if the heart is invaded and influenced with unholy sentiments, and fleshly appetites run riot. Guard your heart, what transpires therein, and what enters in, with all diligence.

It was a wise man, in fact, the wisest of all men, one who, speaking from own sad experience, gave this advice. Heed it, my dear hearer, heed it!

And, again, the second lesson furnished by the holy Apostle is this: "Walk in the spirit, and ye shall not fulfill the lusts of the flesh." There is a mine of wisdom in that. Our religion not only tells us what not to do, it also tells us what to do; it is not only negative, it is positive. There are two ways of dealing with temptation. The one way is negative, the other is positive. "Thou shalt not commit adultery," that is negative. We are to eradicate vice, that is positive.

The effectual safeguard against drink is not prohibition. Neither the most cunningly devised laws, nor the most unrelenting persecution of liquor dealers, nor any other device of man can arrest this terrible evil. To successfully combat it, to make the poor victim a worthy and honored member of society, requires some stronger and firmer basis, some more controlling motive than mere earthly considerations. "Put on the Lord Jesus," is St. Paul's plain direction, "and make not provision for the flesh to fulfill the lusts thereof." The eye that has gazed upon the cross of Calvary with penitence and faith, the heart that has been regenerated by the washing of the Holy Ghost, and in whose soul is diffused the Spirit of God, and who strives to walk in the Spirit, he, and only he, can escape the temptations of the dreaded serpent of intemperance. And so, whatever the habit, you cannot wrestle successfully with a vicious habit, unless you cultivate a higher and different taste, a love for the things of God's Spirit. Life, to be safe, must stand for something, not simply against something, must express itself in the spirit, not simply suppress itself in the lust of the flesh.

From away back in the past comes to us a voice, the voice of a young man who, when tempted by the dark-eyed adulteress in Egypt, said: "How, then, can I do this great wickedness and sin against God?" Oh, that the young and the old would let these words of Joseph incessantly ring in their ears! A positive attachment, devotion to God will prompt us to be and to do what He wants you to be and to do, and as it inspires you to do what is right, it keeps you from doing that which is wrong.

And here again, to conclude, in our combat against this enemy of our soul we cannot stand upright unless we have some mightier power to sustain us. We know as Lenten Christians whence this power flows. How can any one who has looked up to that divine Sufferer in faith crucify Him anew by unholy living? The thought of what He has done for us, the love that prompted Him to shed His holy, precious blood for our sins, will restrain us from falling a victim to this insidious and wicked enemy. The Lord grant us repentance over past falls, gracious forgiveness, and strength!

Plenteous grace with Thee is found,
Grace to cover all my sin;
Let the healing streams abound,
Make and keep me pure within.

Amen.

FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT.

Woe unto the world because of offenses! For it must needs be
that offenses come; but woe to that man by whom the offense
cometh!--_Matt. 18, 7._

It has grown a custom with us to regard on this particular Sunday some particular phase of sin. Now there is a sin which very many people think little about; that is the sin of making others sin. They feel that they are accountable for their own sins, the sins of their hands, tongues, and thoughts, but as to responsibility for what others have done, they feel no guilt that belongs exclusively to them. And yet, when one reflects on the matter; when we consider how we are all bound up with one another, what influence we exert, what our words and deeds cause others to do, how, without our knowing it, others have taken our example to encourage themselves in what is wrong, thinking they could not go wrong if following in our steps; when we reflect that the first sin committed in the world was the sin of making others sin, that of the devil tempting Eve to disobey God, and that the first evil consequence of man's fall was that Eve, when she had sinned herself, was to make her husband sin also,--we begin to realize that it is a real sin, and a common sin, the sin of making others do wrong; nor can there be any doubt or mistake as to our Lord's judgment concerning it.

Our blessed Savior, in the course of His ministry, denounced woes upon other sins. He said: "Woe unto thee, Chorazin! Woe unto thee, Bethsaida! Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! Woe unto that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed!" But when He said: "Woe unto the world because of offenses!" He qualifies it; He bitterly adds: "For it must needs be that offenses come; but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh! It were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea." It could have been no ordinary occasion, it can be no common sin that could have drawn from the merciful lips of our Redeemer, that could have wrung from His loving heart, so tremendous a condemnation.

Let us regard, then, _I. In what way we may cause others to sin. II. How we may prevent it._ May God's Spirit make the words spoken profitable and instructive to every one of you!

Causing others to sin may be done in two ways: by direct temptation and by evil example. Sin loves companionship; having done wrong themselves, men look for others to do wrong with them. There are but few sins that men can do alone. They require some one to sin with them.

There is nothing an infidel loves so much as when he can gain the ear of some unsophisticated person to fill his mind with ungodliness and infamy. The vile libertine never gloats more in fiendish glee than when he can, by flattery or love of dress and amusement, make some innocent girl the tool of his debauched sensuality. It seems the delight of some to teach others the habit of taking God's name in vain. What shall we say of those foul brothels that, like poisonous mushrooms, pollute our cities, leading men's steps down to the house of the strange woman; what of the conventional drinking-houses and pool-rooms and gambling dens, the haunts of profanity, intemperance, and profligacy; what of the playhouses with their usual performances, beautifying vice and placing a low estimate on marriage and morals? What are those but just so many places and occasions of direct temptation to sin? And those who conduct and foster them are under the condemnation of this text. What are they but vultures that feed on the carrion of sin, making men's lusts and depraved animal passions a source of ungodly gain? No words would be a more truthful sign to place over the entrance of such places than these of Matt. 18, 7: "Woe unto the world because of offenses! For it must needs be that offenses come; but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh!"

But this is not the only way in which men may transgress this text. There are, be it said to the credit of our race, men who have not much scruple about doing wrong themselves, but who have not so far lost nobleness and generosity of mind as not to shrink from directly tempting others who are as yet free from guilt. They think little of the sin themselves, still they would not have others share their bad experience. However, though they would not like to bring on their souls the sin of directly tempting others, they forget what judgment they are heaping on themselves by their evil example. And here it is that we are all more or less concerned.

It may be well to observe that in the paragraph preceding our text the Lord is speaking of little children, and so, we may consider, first, the responsibility of parents. There are but few parents who do not desire to bring up their children well, and to this end are careful to teach them to be truthful and honest, pure, gentle, and unselfish. But of how little avail to teach these things as theories and principles when the example which parents set is precisely the opposite to their teaching! When the head of the family commands his children to attend divine service, but himself does not, what, in fact, is he teaching but to stay away? Or does he think for one moment that the children are so foolish as not to reason thus: If it were really my duty to go to church, would not my father go himself? Why do what my father fails to do? Or if the wife and mother is seen by her offspring to practice deception in little things, resorts readily to untruth, is not "in" when she is "in," and the like, how quick they are to notice it, and grow up to think that truth and honesty are to be held as theories, rather than practiced as virtues. Nor need we restrict it merely to the home sphere, it applies to every other, school, college, workshop, friendship. Without limit is the effect of unconscious example. We uttered it as a mere joke, or what we styled as a harmless way of getting out of a difficulty, but the falsehood we uttered has stuck, and taken root in some one's mind near us, and blossomed into a full-blown way of lying, which he says he learned from us, and defends by our example.

Because when we were young, we looked up and trusted and admired some one, a teacher, a friend, on account of their attractiveness, or brilliancy, or personal magnetism, we imitated them, and that, perhaps, in things not at all commendable. And what we have done and do, others in time do with us. The minister who will tell his members and catechumens, You must mind only what I preach and not what I _do_, is a caricature and disgrace to his office. The religious teacher of the Sunday-school who goes to places of frolic, and is seen by his or her pupils, or by the grown sisters and brothers of these pupils, who then defend their presence there because they, the teachers of religion, were there,--such teachers are dropping evil seed which strengthens others in wickedness, and do well to examine their conduct and character under the sharp lens of this text.

The young man or, for all that, he, too, of advanced years, who is seen seeking his couch in the late hours of night, or the small hours of morn, apart from his family and the companionship of reputable associates, may also reflect how this is likely to affect the honor and peace of the home, and serve as an example for others.

Enough has been said, I take it, to make plain what is meant. And is this a sin to think little of? Let us awake to our responsibility! No man liveth to himself. The moral impulse, the influence we exert, the example we set, God holds us answerable for them.

What, then, to come to the next particular, shall we do if we have become guilty in this respect? I was once told of a man who on his deathbed had something on his conscience which greatly disturbed him. He had not been a bad man, from the world's standpoint, and it was only a boyish freak. What he related was this: "I was going across a common one day, and I saw a sign-post at the crossroads, pointing the way to two different places. The post was old, the sign easily removed, and so for fun I took down the arms and changed them, so as to make them point to the wrong roads. It was a foolish thing, but of late years it has continually haunted me. And now on my deathbed it greatly troubles me to think how many a poor, weary man crossing that common I have sent on the wrong road."

Beloved, this is a parable of life, nor leave it till you are on your deathbed. Think if by your example you have ever sent any poor fellow-creature toiling across the common of this life on the wrong road, the road which leads to destruction, instead of the narrow way which leads to heaven! Think if by any example of yours you have removed the guiding post which would have led the man aright had you not pointed out the wrong way, and if your conscience accuse you of this, repent of your guilt and ask God honestly and humbly for His forgiveness. That is the first thing we ought to do.

And, in the second place, we must give most careful heed to ourselves. One thing we must never forget: we are Christians, Christ's disciples, and concerning His disciples, Christ says: "Ye are the salt of the earth, ye are the light of the world." That is their distinctive property, their mission. Salt is an active principle; it works, and purifies, and diffuses its saltiness. So, too, it behooves us, by speech and pen, by example and influence, by suffrage and legislation, by every agency in our power, to set ourselves against the social sins of our land and age,--intemperance, Lord's day desecration, uncharitableness, lewdness, insubordination, which, like cancers, have fastened themselves upon the moral and religious life of our nation, and are fast destroying its vitality. We are to be a salt, a savor of moral health to all who come into contact with us, and a light, so the Savior directs. "Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which is in heaven."

We had respect to the evil example of parents,--why, correspondingly, should it not make for good? We find not uncommonly that the child catches the words, nay, even the tone of voice which he has heard his father use. Will he not be still more likely to catch his other habits?--to be mild and kind, sober and industrious, if the manner and behavior of his father are marked by mildness, kindness, sobriety, and diligence? And so in all deportments. They are familiar lines, fraught with deep thought:

Lives of great men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time.

Let's leave some such footprints, some stimulating, ennobling influence and example, around and behind us.

These, then, are the truths presented by the text. Let them be seriously and deeply considered. May God by His grace deliver us from the bitter "woe" of having given offense, causing others to sin, and grant us wisdom and power to turn many into the right way through faith in Christ Jesus, the Savior of sinners. Amen.

FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT.

When I see the blood, I will pass over you.--_Exodus 12, 13._

The one grand theme, the central, all-pervading subject of the Bible, from beginning to end, is redemption by the blood of Christ. It matters not who held the pen, whether Moses in the land of Midian, or David in the mountains of Israel, or Daniel in the court of Babylon, Paul, a prisoner at Rome, or John amid the bleak rocks of the Isle of Patmos,--one golden thread runs through all their records.

Just as in an orchestra the various notes and chords of the musicians' instruments express the one central idea of the composition they are rendering, so whatever chords are touched by the hands of the holy writers in God's Book, one keynote vibrates, that is, _salvation through the blood of the Lamb_.

"The blood of Jesus Christ, God's Son, cleanses us from all sin," is the testimony of St. John. "Ye know that ye were redeemed by the precious blood of Christ," is the plea of Saint Peter. "Justified by His blood," is the Gospel of St. Paul. And the voices of heaven blend with those of earth, for thus is the saints' eternal song: "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain and hath redeemed us to God by His blood." And this is the Church's theme on this particular Sunday, as it reads in the Epistle: "Christ by His blood hath obtained eternal redemption for us." The past Sundays in Lent have we been seeking to learn what sin is and what sin does; how could we more appropriately spend this service than to consider how we may be saved from sin, and in that may the Scripture selected profitably aid us.

Eight times had Pharaoh's hardened heart brought sorrow upon the people of Egypt. As one calamity after another was fulfilled, he seemed softened for a while and willing to comply with God's command to let His people Israel go, but no sooner was the pressing plague removed than he again defied the Lord of heaven. And now the tenth, the last and most dreadful and desolating of visitations, was to be sent. The king and his people are informed that, if Israel were not allowed straightway to depart, the first-born in every home shall, at one and the same hour, be slain.

But before the destroying angel started on his sorrowful mission, the Israelites were directed to kill a lamb, to take its blood and besprinkle therewith the headpiece and the two sideposts of their dwellings. This was God's sacred mark. Wherever that crimson sign would appear, the messenger of judgment was to pass over and spare.

It was as told. At the hour of midnight the avenging angel swept over the land. All the first-born were slain. Not a house where there was not one dead. In Pharaoh's palace and in the pauper's hovel, stricken hearts bewailed the countenance of their eldest suddenly darkened by death. Only in the houses of the Hebrews there was security and peace, because the blood was on their doors. Such is the simple historical event connected with our text, designed by God to foreshadow a far greater and more important event, an event that was to bear upon the whole race of man wherever, whenever, and however found.