Chapter II: Part 2

Let us think, then, of some of the ways in which we can show mercy. First, we must shew mercy and lovingkindness _practically_, by deeds, not words. To cry over a starving man, and to leave him to starve, is of no use. To sigh over the sins and miseries of our fellow men, without trying to mend them, is mere waste of time. Practical mercy and kindness can be shown in a thousand different ways. Try to make the lives of others happy. We are always seeking our own happiness, let us try rather to make the lives of others brighter, helping our neighbour, and happiness will come to us. We often see people who are neglected and uncared for in life, and when they die men scatter flowers upon their coffin, and write their praises on their tomb.

My brethren, let us not keep our flowers for our neighbour's coffin, but send them to him now, to brighten and bless his life. Mary did not reserve her alabaster box of perfume till her Lord was dead, she filled the whole house with sweetness where the living Jesus was. Let us do likewise. If we have an alabaster box of love and tenderness, let us not keep it sealed till our friends are dead. Pour forth the sweetness of loving words and kindly thoughts now, make their lives happy, you cannot "charm the dull, cold ear of death" with your praises. When we die we have done with the troubles of this world, and its flowers, and its pleasant things concern us not. But now that we are alive, and have to bear many hours of suffering and sorrow, kind, loving words, and the touch of gentle hands, and the help of strong arms, cheer and strengthen us like the sight of flowers, or the perfume of Mary's gift. Scatter your choicest blossoms upon men's lives, instead of on their coffins. Blessed are they whose lives are like the violets, making the homes and lives of others sweet and fragrant.

"There be fair violet lives that bloom unseen
In dewy shade, unvext by any care;
And they who live them wear the flower-like face
Of simple pureness, which, amid the crowd
Of haggard brows, strikes like a sweet perfume
Upon the jaded sense."

This world would be far more like Paradise, and less like the howling wilderness which it is to so many, if men would show love and mercy to their fellow men. Nothing opens the heart to angels' visits, and shuts them against the attacks of Satan, like love. Truly it has been said, "the heart of him who loves, is a Paradise on earth; he hath God in himself, for God is love."

We are sent into the world to make each other happy, by showing mercy and kindness. "Some men move through life as a band of music moves down a street, flinging out pleasure on every side through the air, to every one, far and near, who can listen. Some men fill the air with their presence and sweetness, as orchards in October days fill the air with perfume of ripe fruit. Some women cling to their own homes like the honeysuckle over the door, yet, like it, sweeten all the region with the subtle fragrance of their goodness. There are trees of righteousness which are ever dropping precious fruit around them." Blessed are those lives which make others better and happier, purer, and stronger, verily they have their reward.

Again, we can show mercy by _forgiving those who injure us_. Few things are more talked of, and less practised, than the duty of forgiveness. This world is darkened by the stinging hail of spite, and vindictive bitterness, just because people who have been wronged by others will not be reconciled, will not forgive. If you believe in prayer, you ask God for pardon every day, but is not that something like mockery, if you from your hearts do not forgive another's trespasses? And remember also that forgiveness does not mean merely abstaining from injuring one who has wronged us. We must try to do such an one good if we can. Once, after a great battle, an English officer, accompanied by his orderly, was examining the wounded on the field. He came to one of the enemy who was badly hurt. "Give him a drink of water," said the officer. As he turned aside, the wounded man raised his rifle and fired at the officer, the bullet just missing him. "Give him the water all the same," was the order of the brave man who knew how to forgive.

Time would fail me to speak of the many ways in which we may show mercy. Kind judgment of another's motives, patient bearing with another's temper, gentle sympathy with another's weakness, noble self-sacrifice for another's good, all these are signs of the life of mercy. Let me tell you, in ending, that mercy ever brings its sweet reward. Each act of lovingkindness comes back to us with abundant interest. "Good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over."

Once, a farmer, out on the Western Prairies of America, started for a distant town, to receive some money due to him. As he left his house, his only child, a little girl, clung lovingly to him, and reminded him of his promise to bring her home a present. Late on the same night the farmer left the town on his way home. The night was very dark and stormy, and he was yet far from his home, and in the wildest part of the road, when he heard the cry of a child. The farmer thought that it might be the device of some robber, as he was known to carry money with him. He was weary and wet with his journey, and inclined to hasten on, but again the cry reached him. The farmer determined that whatever happened he must search for the child, if child there were. Groping in the darkness, at last he found a little figure, drenched with rain, and shivering with cold. Wrapping his cloak about the child, he rode homewards as fast as possible, but when he reached his house, he found it full of neighbours, standing round his weeping wife. One said to another, "do not tell him, it will drive him mad." Then, the farmer set down his bundle, and his wife with a cry of joy saw that it was their own lost child. The little one had set forth to meet her father, and had missed her way. The man had, without knowing it, saved his own daughter. "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy."

SERMON XL.

THE WORDS OF OUR LIPS.

(Fifth Sunday after Trinity.)

1 S. PETER iii. 10.

"For he that will love life, and see good days, let him refrain his tongue from evil, and his lips that they speak no guile."

Among the scientific wonders of the day, one of the most remarkable is the telephone, by which we can hear each other's words at a considerable distance. By means of that instrument the sermon of the preacher, the music of the singer, the weighty words of the wise, and the silly babble of the foolish, can be carried over a great space. Have you ever thought, brethren, that if a telephone could be invented sufficiently large to convey the words uttered in one day in one of our great cities, or even in this place, what a babel of strange discordant sounds would come to our ears? What a mixture of wisdom and folly, love and hate, selfishness and self-denial, would be heard! Few of us would be the happier for hearing all the talk of their town or parish for one day. Now, God does hear every word spoken throughout the world. All that men say, good or bad, wise or foolish, is known to that God to whom all hearts are open, and from whom no secrets are hid. And more than this, these words of ours are noted in God's Book of Remembrance, from which we shall one day be judged. When a man is taken into custody on suspicion of having committed some crime, he is always warned that whatever he may say will be used in evidence against him. Such a man is very careful to keep a curb upon his tongue. My brothers, we have all need to remember that for every idle word we must give account, and that what we say every day of our life will be used as evidence against us, since "by our words we shall be justified, and by our words we shall be condemned."

I have read of one of old time who, being unable to read, came to a Priest, and asked to be taught a Psalm. Having learnt the verse, "I said I will take heed to my ways, that I offend not with my tongue," he went away, saying that was enough if it were carried out practically. Six months later he was asked why he had not come to learn another Psalm, and he answered simply that he had not yet been able to master what he had learned already.

Most important, then, and most necessary among Christian duties, is control of the tongue, and yet it is much neglected. Many, who would hesitate to do a foolish or wicked thing, do not scruple to say what is both unwise and wrong. There are men living respectable and clean lives who yet love to tell an unclean story. There are those who sing God's praises in Church, and pray earnestly, and with the same tongue swear and use bad language when their temper is ruffled. Out of the same mouth proceed blessing and cursing. There are some good mothers, perhaps, who would shudder at a bad word, or an immodest story, who yet habitually sin with their tongue. They shoot out their arrows, even bitter words, which wound a sister's reputation, and leave scars which never pass away. Truly says a well-known writer, "Heaven keep us from the destroying power of words. There are words which sever hearts more than sharp swords do; there are words, the points of which sting the heart through the course of a whole life."

My brothers, we all, like a deadly serpent, carry a fearful weapon in our tongue, and woe unto our happiness, and that of others, if the poison of asps is under our lips. No one has learnt aright the lessons of Christianity unless he can curb his tongue. We dare not call ourselves followers of Him who went about doing good, and spake as never man spake, if we go about with lies, with cruel speeches, with the sneering sarcasm which maddens, and the unjust judgment which kills. Let us put this matter before ourselves very practically, and think of some words from which we must restrain our mouth as it were with a bridle. First, let us guard against the _unkind word_ of every class. This world is full of sunshine, and flowers, and singing birds, because God is full of kindness. So, if we would find sunshine in our life, and flowers about our path, we must be kindly affectioned one to another, pitiful, courteous, in our words. The man who goes through life saying cruel things is like a musical instrument out of tune, whose only sounds are discord. It is the kindly tongue which makes "the music of men's lives." Think what an unkind word can do! It can, and has, parted husband and wife, parent and child, for ever. It has driven a man from the Paradise of home, to the cold, outer world of lonely misery. It has blighted a young life as a cruel frost kills the budding may. It has embittered a parent's declining years, and brought down grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. Of all miseries, surely one of the greatest must be to stand by the open grave of some friend, and to feel that the poor heart, lying cold and still beneath us, has been wounded by our cruel and unkindly words. O sons and daughters, take heed to your words, lest when you lay father or mother in the grave there comes the sad accusing whisper, "my angry temper, and my thoughtless tongue, saddened my parent's last days on earth." A great English writer said sadly, "What would I give to call my mother back to earth for one day, to ask her pardon upon my knees for all those things by which I gave her gentle spirit pain." Watch and pray against unkind words, they never did, or can do, good. They never softened a hard heart, or convinced an unbeliever, or converted a sinner. You cannot shape lives into beauty by hard words, as you can a stone by hard blows. Say a kindly word whenever you have the opportunity, and you will be like one sowing the seed of a fragrant flower, which will bring sweetness to others, and most surely to yourself. One of the best lessons we can learn is to be silent at the right time. One of the greatest of the old Greek philosophers condemned each of his pupils to five years' silence, that he might learn self-control; and Holy Writ tells us plainly that a man full of words shall not prosper upon the earth.

Another which we must guard against is the _discontented word_. Everywhere around we hear people murmuring, and finding fault. Nearly everyone whom we meet has some complaint. It is almost a miracle to find a man who says, "I am well, very happy, and quite contented." Let the skies be ever so blue, the eyes of the murmurer can discover a rising cloud. Let to-day be ever so bright and prosperous, the discontented forsees trouble to-morrow. The greatest and the best of men appear in his eyes to be full of faults and weaknesses. Everyone has his price, he says, no man serves God for nought. In a word, he can see no good in God's world, no beauty in God's creatures, no blessings in his own life. He can tell you all his misfortunes, but ask him what good things God has done for him, and he cannot remember. My brothers, guard against the discontented tongue. It is a grievous sin against God, and it makes its owner and all around him wretched. Let the praises of God be in your mouth, and the two-edged sword of faith in your hand, and you will make your way through all difficulties, and triumph over all troubles. Count up God's mercies and blessings every day, and you _cannot_ murmur. Sing the _Te Deum_ oftener, and you will have no time for the miserable ditties of the discontented. Imitate the bees, who gather sweetness from the common things of life. Look up to God's bright sky, and not down into the gloomy cavern of your own heart. Pray to be lifted out of self, and filled with thoughts of God's love and mercy, then you will be able to say--

"My heart leaps up when I behold
The rainbow in the sky!
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die."

And next, let us guard against the _untruthful word_ of every kind. There are hundreds of ways in which men sin against the truth, and yet the world does not call them by the terrible name, the most shameful of all names--a liar. The world is very fond of giving wrong names to certain sins. A man appears in the morning with pale face, and shaking hand, and lack-lustre eye, and the world says he has been spending a festive evening, whereas the _truth_ is he has been drunk. The man who leads an unclean life is pleasantly styled by the world a _fast man_. God in the Bible calls him by a very different name.

Let us learn to call things by their right names. If what we say is not quite true it is a lie, neither more nor less. If we go about with idle tales of our neighbour, tales which have some truth in them, but not all the truth, then we are verily guilty concerning our brother; since the truths which are only half truths "are ever the worst of lies." If in our business we say more than the truth, or less than the truth, we are verily guilty. A lie is no less a lie because it is printed in a prospectus, or written up in a shop window. A tradesman who sells a pair of boots which fall to pieces, or a garment which will not wear, and tells us that they are good and genuine articles, is just as false as Ananias himself. I have heard traders declare that they cannot afford to be honest. This is an utter mistake. Every Christian man is bound by the vows of his Baptism both to speak and act the truth. Well says a preacher of our day, "we have dethroned the Most High in the realm of commerce, and in the place of the Heavenly Majesty have erected unclean and pestiferous idols; we have put into the holy place the foul little gods, named Trickery and Cunning. We have tried to lock God up in the Church, and have shut upon Him the iron gates of the marketplace."

My brothers, if you would prosper you must have God with you in your business, guiding your plough, blessing your farm, ruling your trade. You must have God with you behind the counter of your shop, or your office, and if God is to be there you _must speak_ the truth. A Christian man must have nothing to do with an unjust balance, or a false weight. He must refuse to adulterate his wares, for these things are lies. The Chinese are in the habit of adulterating some of their tea for the market, but they are honest enough to call it in their language _lie tea_. I only wish our traders would do the same when they offer us false articles under the name of genuine wares. The time would fail me to tell one quarter of the ways in which God's law of truth is broken. I may not stay to speak of the false advertisement, of the highly-coloured description, of the quack medicine, which we are solemnly told will cure any kind of disease. I would only say, take the matter home to your own hearts. Whoever you are, make up your mind that as Christians you must speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. And may the God of all truth give your strength.

SERMON XLI.

ALIVE UNTO GOD.

(Sixth Sunday after Trinity.)

ROMANS vi. 11.

"Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord."

Every baptised person belongs to God. He is His absolute property, marked with the sign of the great King. As the broad arrow is the mark that certain property belongs to the British Government, so the Cross of Holy Baptism is the sign and pledge that we are God's. Think of that, my brothers, you are not free to choose your own way, your own masters; you belong absolutely to Jesus Christ. He made you His property by taking your flesh, by suffering in it, by dying in it, by rising with it in triumph. In Baptism you are made partakers of all these benefits. You are baptised into the Death of Christ that your old sinful nature may die and be buried. You are baptised too in His Resurrection, that you may after Baptism begin a new and higher life, with Jesus as your Ruler and Guide. From this fact come two others; first that we are not free to sin, because if we do wrong, we sin not against ourselves, but against Jesus Christ, "whose we are, and whom we serve." I do not say that sin will not come in our way, will not tempt us. We must, in passing through the world, encounter foul smells, hideous sights, dirty roads. But we can turn away from the foul smell, we can shut our eyes to the bad sight, we can pick our way carefully over the dirty road. So if sin meets us, we must turn aside from it, we must stop our eyes and our ears to the evil sight, or sound, we must try to keep in a clean path. The strength which our Master, Jesus, gives us in the Sacraments will be sufficient for us. And the second fact is that, as baptised people, we are never alone, never forsaken. A great part of our life, and our work, must be solitary, and yet we are not alone, for God is with us. We must _do our work alone_. No one can tread the path of duty for us, or fight the good fight on our behalf. Like the solitary sower in the fields, we are all sent into this world to sow some seed, to do some work, _alone_. There may be crowds around us, and yet each of us has his thoughts, and hopes, and feelings, with which others cannot intermingle; no two men think or feel exactly in the same way, each of us is alone. We know that we must fight the battle of life and duty alone, we know that we bear our sorrows and bereavements alone, we know that alone we must die, and be judged, and yet, as Christians, we know that Jesus will never leave us, nor forsake us, that He is with us even unto the end of the world, and that when most solitary we are _alone with God_.

It is this thought that has strengthened the bravest and best of God's people in their hour of trial. It was this which enabled Abraham to leave home and friends, and to seek a land of strangers; he was not alone, for God was with him. It was this which comforted Joseph in the Egyptian prison, and enabled him to feel as many another captive has felt--

"Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for a hermitage."

It was this which nerved Daniel to dare the den of lions, and Shadrach and his brethren to brave the fiery furnace; they were not alone, for God was with them. This cheered David when he walked through the valley of the shadow in his deep repentance; this gave courage to S. Peter, and S. Paul, and all the noble army of martyrs, to speak boldly in Christ's Name, and to meet death with a smiling face. This carried Moses through the desert, and Columbus to the new world, the thought that in their loneliest hour God was with them.

Yes, and it was the same thought which supported the dead hero, for whom all England weeps. Day after day passed over Gordon in his lonely exile far away. Day after day he saw the sunrise flash on the white walls and fair palm trees of Khartoum, and the sunset redden the desert sand. Cut off from home, and comrades, and countrymen, far from the sound of English voices, and of English prayers; there is no more lonely figure than that of the martyr of duty. Day by day he strained his eyes to see the rescue which never came, and yet in all this lonely waiting we cannot believe that the heart of Gordon failed, for he could say to his God, "I am not alone, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me."

Thus, in one sense, every man must stand alone, and yet the Christian man knows that he is a child of God, and that his Father will never forsake him. Every one of us must _labour alone_ in the great workshop of the world. Each of us has his corner where God has placed him to weave in his little bit of the pattern of this world's history, to add his little portion of colour to the picture called Life. For each of us there is the day's work, wherein we can labour, or idle, as we choose, and for each there comes the night when no man can work. And what we have to do we must do _alone_. The majority of men who live the life of duty do so unnoticed and uncared for. They are like those stars which our eyes never see, but they shine all the same. Such men work and suffer, and wait till their time comes to join

"The crowd untold of men,
By the cause they served unknown,
Who moulder in myriad graves of old,
Never a story, never a stone."

But such men have the comfort of knowing that they have not run in vain, neither laboured in vain; they have lived unto God in this world, and if solitary, they have been alone with God. Again, _we must all suffer alone_. However kind and sympathetic our friends may be, they cannot enter into our pains and agonies. They can be sorry for us, but they cannot feel as we feel. When the body is racked by severe pangs of suffering, even the presence of friends is too much for us. We want to be alone, _alone with God_. And this is specially true of the sorrows of the mind. "The heart knoweth its own bitterness." No one, not even our nearest and dearest, can go with us to the Gethsemane, where we suffer, or the Calvary, where we endure our cross. But it is in these hours of bitterest suffering that the Christian feels that he is not forsaken. He remembers that his Master, Jesus, trod the winepress of sorrow alone, and that of the people there was none with Him. He knows that he is permitted to walk the same lonely path as Jesus trod before him. He knows that as he kneels in the darkened room with his solitary sorrow, with his breaking heart, with his sinful soul bowed down in penitence, that Jesus is with him--he is alone with God. And again, _we must all die alone_. The moment of death is the most solitary of all our life. The Prince, with his armies, and crowds of friends and courtiers, is, at his death, as much alone as the beggar who drops and dies by the roadside. Loving hands may clasp ours fondly, but we must let them go. Husband, mother, wife, or child may cling to us in close embrace, but they cannot detain us, or go with us, we must die alone. And yet in that most solitary moment the Christian who is dead unto sin, and living unto God, knows that he is not alone. He knows that when he has heard the sound of the last voice on earth, he shall hearken to other voices, never listened to before. When the last farewell is spoken, and the last hand clasped on earth, there will come the meeting with a new and glorious company, and the touch of those dear Hands once wounded for our transgressions. Be sure that God, who is with us in life, is specially with us in the moment of death; we die alone, but we are alone with God. My brothers, we are tempted sometimes to murmur because our life and its work are dull, monotonous and solitary. Let this thought help us to check the rebellious sigh, the thought that if we are trying to do our duty, God is with us, and He that seeth in secret, shall Himself reward us openly. We may be tempted to cry sometimes in our darkest hours, "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me;" but the loving Hand has not gone from us, though we cannot feel its touch. Those dark hours often bring out the light of Christ's great love most clearly. I have seen a famous picture of the Crucifixion, which shows its sad beauty best when the window is darkened. Then there seems to shine a light of hope and splendour behind the Cross, and the face of the Saviour beams with tenderest love. So when the windows of our life are darkened, when bereavement, or ill-health, or disappointment come upon us, let us turn our eyes to the Crucified, and see a new light, a new meaning in our Saviour's sorrow, and our own. Let us learn that the trouble has come to lead us apart from the world and its selfish ways, that we may be alone--alone with God.

SERMON XLII.

SERVANTS OF SIN.

(Seventh Sunday after Trinity.)

ROMANS vi. 20.

"The servants of sin."

There is no existence in the world so sad as that of a slave; and there is no slavery so hard as that of sin, no taskmaster so bitter as the devil. There was a tyrant in the old times who ordered one of his subjects to make an iron chain of a certain length, in a given time. The man brought the work, and the tyrant bade him make it longer still. And he continued to add link to link, till at length the cruel taskmaster ordered his servants to bind the worker with his own chain, and cast him into the fire. That hardest of tyrants, the devil, treats his slaves in like manner. At first the chain of sin is light, and could easily be cast off. But day by day Satan bids his victims add another link. The servant of sin grows more hardened, more daring, more reckless in his evil way. He adds sin to sin, link to link, and then the end comes, and the tyrant binds him hand and foot with his own chain, and casts him into outer darkness, where there is weeping, and gnashing of teeth. Very often the slaves of sin do not know that they _are_ slaves. They talk about their freedom from restraint, they tell us they are their own masters, they would have us believe that the godly, who try to keep the commandments, and walk in the narrow way, are slaves, but _they_ are free! Oh! fools, and slow of heart! As well might a prisoner cover his irons with a cloak, and try to pass as a free man. We can _hear the clank of the chains_. So is it with the slave of sin. Once I visited a madhouse, and talked with some of the poor patients. Some had one delusion, some another. One thought he was a king, another fancied himself the heir to a fortune. But one thing they all believed, that they were in their right minds.

My brothers, the slaves of sin are like these poor mad folk, they do not understand that what they call freedom is slavery, that what they style pleasure is misery, that instead of being the clever, reckless, free people they think themselves, they are only mad people possessed of the devil. First, then, we have seen that the servants of sin do not know that they are slaves. The tyrant, Satan, blinds their eyes before he binds them in the fetters of his prison house, even as the Philistines blinded the strong man of old. Next, the servants of sin bear about the marks of their master I have seen gangs of convicts working on Dartmoor. You could not mistake them for anything else if they were dressed in the best of clothing. The word _convict_ is stamped upon every grey face, as plainly as the Government mark is stamped upon their clothing. The servants of sin have their marks also. Look at the shifty eyes, and downward glance of the knave and the false man; mark the flushed brow and cruel eyes of the angry man; see the weak lips and trembling hand of the drunkard; they bear the marks of their slavery very plainly. So, too, the sensualist who lives for his body, the impure man, the slave of lust, the criminal, haunted by a guilty secret, the selfish worldling, who cares only for this life; these all bear the traces of their sin upon them, these show whose they are, and whom they serve. Again, the servants of sin have their so-called enjoyments, these are the baits with which the tyrant gets them into his power. For a time the way of transgressors is made easy and pleasant. The broad road is shaded, and edged with fair fruits and flowers. The down-hill path is strewn with glittering jewels, the booths of vanity fair are fitted with all manner of delights, and the poor slave goes on, scarce feeling his chains, or knowing of his slavery, till the day of reckoning comes. "There is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death." A saint of old once saw a man leading a herd of swine, which followed him willingly. The saint asked whither he was taking them, and he answered, to the slaughter. When the saint marvelled that the swine should go so readily to their death, the man showed him that they followed him for the sake of the sweet food in his hand, and knew not whither they were going. My brothers, the servants of sin follow Satan for the sake of the sweet things which he offers, and know not that they are going to their death, even the living death of a lost soul. Some of you remember the old German legend of doctor Faustus. It is a terrible parable of the fate of all those who become the slave of sin. Faustus is represented as a man of great learning, who used his knowledge for evil instead of good. Being filled with pride, he refused to bow down to God, and made a bargain with Satan that he was to have his own way, and every wish gratified for a certain term of years, and then he was to pay the price--his own soul. During those years he had all the health and strength of youth, he enjoyed all the pleasures of the body, the world, the flesh, and the devil were his servants. But one thing he lacked, he had not God, and so he had no hope. There were times when he thought of the horrible bargain which he had made. He desired to see Paradise and Hell, and he was shown a glimpse of both. His servants found him in deep sorrow, and asked him what he had seen, and what the sorrows of Hell were like. But he answered that he remembered not, one thing only he recalled, the peace and beauty of that Paradise which he had forfeited for ever. This is the story of every slave of sin.

My brothers, there are many who have bargained with Satan, offering the price of their own souls. When the Tempter came to the Saviour in the wilderness, he offered Him the glory and splendour of the world if Jesus would fall down and worship him. It is the same with us. Satan offers us this world instead of the world to come. He offers us our own way, so dear to all of us. He offers us the pleasures of the body, "let us eat and drink." He offers us self-indulgence in all the lusts of the flesh. He offers us all the flash and glitter of the world, but he does not let us see the foulness and rottenness which they cover. To the man of science he comes, as to Faustus in the legend, and tries to induce him to set up his knowledge against the All-wise, and to drive God out of His own fair universe. He does not show him how sad life must be without the knowledge of God: how miserable death must be without a Saviour. He comes to the man of business, and shows him visions of vast wealth. He whispers, "All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me." And that implies false dealing, sharp practice, trickery, knavery. It implies loss of self-respect, loss of honour, the reproaches of an ever-accusing conscience. The tempter comes to the young man or woman, and shows them all the delights of a life of pleasure. They see the sparkle of the wine cup, the glitter of the ball room, the pomp and vanities of this wicked world. But they do not see the other side of the picture. They do not see the grey, cold morning of sorrow which follows the night of dissipation and sin. The young woman looks on the tempting dress, the flash of jewels, the gay company. She does not see the _price_ she must pay. She cannot see herself disgraced and ruined, and cast aside like a broken toy. She can hear the music of the revel, but not the reproaches of a broken-hearted dying mother. The young man sees only the bright side of the picture, Satan keeps the dark side hidden. He fancies himself his own master, free from the restraints of home and parents, walking in his own way, in the lust of the eye, and the pride of life. Ah! brother, the way seems very charming now--it will be hard enough one day. The cup of pleasure seems very sweet now, the dregs thereof will be bitter enough one day: as for the ungodly, they shall drink them and suck them up. The food which the world offers seems as honey and the honeycomb now: the day is coming when it will be as ashes. You will come one day to the husks--the sick room, the dying bed,--and you will know that you gained this world and lost the world to come: like the rich man, you will in this life have had your good things, but _you will have paid the price_. And those old words will have a terrible meaning for you then, "What shall it profit a man to gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" Yes, the servants of sin must fulfil their contract and receive their wages, and the wages of sin is death. Ah! brethren, be serious; are these things nothing to you? Are there none of you who _know_ that you are the slaves of some besetting sin? Look into your lives, see whose marks are upon you, whose servants you are. Are you still tied and bound with the chain of your sins? If so, turn you to Him who can alone set you free; to Him who drove the strong man armed from his palace; to Him who conquered Satan in the wilderness, in the garden, on the cross; to Him who can make the weakest strong, the most sorely tempted able to triumph; Who can wash the foulest life till it shall be whiter than snow. Brothers, dare we turn away and carry our chain of slavery longer? No, let us make a struggle to be free, and let our prayer be, "O God, whose nature and property is ever to have mercy and to forgive, receive our humble petitions; and though we be tied and bound with the chain of our sins, yet let the pitifulness of Thy great mercy loose us, for the honour of Jesus Christ, our Mediator and Advocate."

SERMON XLIII.

KNOWN BY THEIR FRUITS.

(Eighth Sunday after Trinity.)

S. MATT. vii. 16.

"Ye shall know them by their fruits."

The religion of Jesus Christ is one of deeds, not words; a life of action, not of dreaming. Our Lord warns us to beware of any form of religion, in ourselves or others, which does not bring forth good fruit. God does not look for the leaves of profession, or the blossoms of promise, He looks for fruit unto holiness. We may profess to believe in Jesus Christ, we may say the Creed without a mistake, we may read our Bible, and say our prayers, and yet, if our lives are bad, all our religion is vain. If we would know whether we are being led by the Holy Spirit, we must see if we are bringing forth _fruits_ of the Spirit. If we would discover if the works of a clock are right, we look at the hands. So, by our words and deeds we shall show whether our hearts are right with God. A religion of the lips is worth nothing. We may cry, "Lord, Lord," in our place in Church, we may repeat the words which speak of the Will of God, and utter pious wishes when we sing chant or hymn, and all the while we may be far off from the Kingdom of Heaven, because we are not in our lives doing the will of our Father which is in Heaven. If we are selfish, self-willed, proud, lovers of our own selves, our religion is but the sheep's clothing covering the wolfish heart, or the white paint hiding the corruption of the sepulchre. It is easy enough to assume the character and manner of a Christian, but to live the Christian life is not so easy. A man can make a sham diamond in a very short time, but the real gem must lie for ages in the earth before it can sparkle with perfect purity. We have far too many of these quickly made Christians amongst us, who have never brought forth fruits meet for repentance, nor gone through the fire of trial, and sorrow, and self-sacrifice. Do not trust to feelings, or words, in yourselves or others, look at your life; a real and a false diamond are very much alike, and yet there is all the difference in the world in their value.

"If ye through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live. For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God." My brothers, who is our leader and guide, the Holy Spirit, or our own will? How shall we know? By our fruits. They tell us that whenever the holy saint David, of Wales, stood up to preach, there came a milk-white dove, and sat upon his shoulder. It is a serious question for you and me, for preacher and people, does the White Dove perch on my shoulder as I preach? Does the Holy Ghost descend like a dove on you who hear? Men of business, anxious workers, is the White Dove with you in your factory, your farm, your office? Mothers and fathers, young men and maidens, is there a place in your home where the Holy Spirit may come, and continually dwell?

Let us look into our lives very closely, and see whether we are mistaking outward form for true religion, words and professions for holiness, leaves for fruit. What are some of the fruits which God looks for in the life of a Christian? At the head of all, I think, we must place _love_. Ah! you will say to me,--I only wish I could love God more. It is so hard to love One whom we cannot see. I worship God, I try to keep His commandments, but I am not sure that I _love_ God. My brother, my sister, let not your heart be troubled. If you really try to do God's Will it is a proof of your love. "If ye love Me, keep My commandments." "For this is the love of God, that we keep His commandments. If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar. We know that we do know Him if we keep His commandments." You can show your love to God by showing love and kindness to your brethren. By kindly judgments of another's fault; by gentle words of comfort, of pity, or of warning; by tender hands stretched out to bring back the wandering sheep; by loving acts of charity to the sick and suffering; by care for the poor bruised reeds of this rough world, you can show your love for God, who is the source of all love. If we love God we shall try to lead others to Him. A true Christian cannot be selfish. Think of the example you set to others. Is it a good one, a strong one, a light shining before men so that they can see your good works? At the battle of Tel-el-Keber our troops had no sufficient plans of the ground. The General therefore ordered a young naval officer to lead the Highland Brigade by the light of the stars to their destined post. When the fight began the Highlanders were ready, and among the first to fall was their young leader. The victory was gained, and the General hastened to the tent of his wounded officer. The dying man smiled as he raised his trembling hand to his commander, and looking him in the face said, "General, didn't I lead them straight?" My brothers, we are leading our fellow men by the example of our lives, the question is, _are we leading them straight?_

Another fruit for which God looks in a Christian's life is _humility_. Every act and word of our Saviour's earthly life teaches us to be humble. Let the haughty, the proud, the self-satisfied man, open his Gospel, and he will find a reproof to his pride on every page. Let him bend his head, and bow his stiff knee before the Almighty God, cradled in a manger, fasting in the desert, homeless, friendless, silent before His foes, stripped, mocked and beaten, dying upon the Cross. Go, my brother, and bow your head at Gethsemane; go, kneel before the Cross of Calvary, and ask God to make you humble. The longer a true Christian lives the more humble-minded he becomes. A young man, just starting in life, holds his head high, and is inclined to look down on others. But as he journeys on through the world, learning by experience, his head grows bent and lowly. So is it with Christ's people. The longer we go to His School, and the more we know of the way of godliness, the humbler we become. Like S. Paul, we count not that we have attained the mark, we only press forward towards it. We begin with shame to take the lowest place, we learn to consider others better than ourselves, and to say to our Lord, "I am not worthy that Thou shouldest come under my roof." As the laden fruit tree bends its branches nearest to the earth, and the fullest ears of corn hang lowest, so the holiest man is ever the humblest. In a certain city abroad every child found begging in the streets is taken to a charitable asylum. Before he is washed, and dressed anew, his portrait is taken as he stands in his beggar's rags. When his education is finished, this picture is given to the child, and he is made to promise that he will keep it all his life, that he may be reminded what he was, and what great things have been done for him. It is good for us to remember, my brothers, what we were: helpless wanderers in this world, clothed in filthy rags of sin; and we must remember, too, what God has done for us. How He has redeemed us from our slavery, making us His own children by adoption, washing us in the Blood of Christ which cleanseth from all sin, and giving us the white robe of holiness. Who is there who, thinking upon these things, can be other than humble? Let us examine ourselves, and see whether we are bringing forth that fruit. We preach humility to others, we expect to see it in others' lives, are we humble ourselves? Have we learnt to walk _humbly_ with our God?

Another fruit which God expects in the lives of His people is _forgetfulness of self_. Have you stayed to calculate how much of your time is occupied in thinking and talking of yourselves? In some houses they line the rooms with looking glasses, so that wherever you turn you see a reflection of yourself. My brethren, some of us pass all our lives in such a room; we are for ever contemplating our own selves. We spend our time in looking into a mirror that we may see our beauty, our cleverness, our fine clothing. One glass reflects our pleasures and amusements, another our sorrows and misfortunes. But every inch of space is so filled with self that there is no room for another's joys or sorrows, and, above all, there is no room for Jesus. Let us strive by God's grace to get away from self, and the eternal thinking and talking of our own concerns. Even Jesus Christ pleased not Himself, and believe me, we are no Christians unless we are trying to forget ourselves, and to deny ourselves. We must be crucified with Christ if we are to reign with Him, and alas for us if we cannot show the marks of the nails where we have been fastened to our cross. My brethren, these are serious thoughts for us all. By our fruits, and by them only, we shall be known. If our lives show no love, no humility, no self-sacrifice, no patience, no meekness, how shall we stand when the great day of ingathering comes? Often the Dresser of the Vineyard has looked upon some of us, seeking fruit, and finding none, and we know not how soon the sentence may go forth, "Cut it down, why cumbereth it the ground."

SERMON XLIV.

RENDERING OUR ACCOUNT.

(Ninth Sunday after Trinity.)

S. LUKE xvi. 2.

"Give an account of thy stewardship."

My brothers, we shall all hear that command one day. When our earthly business is finished and done with, when our debts are paid, and our just claims settled, and our account books balanced for the last time, we must render our account to God, the Righteous Judge. But it is not only at the day of Judgment that the Lord so calls upon us. _Then_ He will ask for the final reckoning,--"Give an account of thy stewardship, for thou mayest be no longer steward." Now, whilst we are yet alive on the earth, whilst we are still in the enjoyment of our stewardship, God, at certain times, calls for an account. Whenever the Holy Spirit touches our hearts, and stirs our conscience, and we look into the secret places of our life, and examine ourselves, then we hear the whisper of God, "Give an account of thy stewardship--how much owest thou unto my Lord?" Then at our dying bed there will be all our past life; our youth, our manhood, our working days, our times of pleasure, these will all be clamouring in our ears--"Give an account of thy stewardship." The dying bed of a sinner, who has wasted his life, will be haunted by the ghosts and phantoms of the past. Days dead and gone, sins dead and forgotten, yet not forgiven, will be there to trouble the thoughts of the dying man, to murmur, "God requireth that which is past; give an account of thy stewardship." Such a death-bed must be an awful thing, no wonder that some people are said to _die hard_. It must be indeed a sad ending to a misspent life, to leave it amid the shadowy crowd of our former faults and failures; to the sound of the evil words which we have spoken; to the stern summons of our unquiet conscience--"Give an account of thy stewardship." May the merciful Jesus save us from such a death as that. And that we may find pardon and peace at the last, let us use the present, and not allow our account to grow, like that of a reckless debtor, till we are overwhelmed by the amount. We are all the stewards of Almighty God. Whatever things we possess are our Master's goods. Let us see how we have used them hitherto. "Give an account of thy stewardship."