In this lovely world, so full of beauty and variety, we are bidden to rejoice; it is for our enjoyment and our use, there is no stint or condition attached to our citizenship of God's earth. Nature is mother to all, and has a message for the meanest and most tried of her children; and it is a message of divinest love. Through Nature, His handmaid, God speaks to us, giving us in the dawn of each new day, in the return of each season, in the shining of the sun and the blessing of the rain, grand and practical lessons in faith, fulfilment of promises which should mean a great deal to us, and teach us more and more to trust Him in all and through all. While we are in the world we have a duty to it, and those who neglect or think lightly of the practical and commonplace requirements of daily life are in the wrong. What is needed is a deepened sense of responsibility concerning the charge God has given us to keep for Him, in the house, the workshop, or the busy mart of life.
It is with the home we have presently to deal; and it is in the home, I think, we need certainly, in as great a degree as elsewhere, all the aid and stimulus religion can give. It teaches us to make the very best of all our circumstances, adverse or pleasant; and aids us to the performance of all duties, however monotonous or irksome in themselves. It is not ours to inquire whether these duties are just what we would desire or choose for ourselves, had choice remained with us. Religion does not consist in the performance of religious ordinances, in conscientious reading of the Word or the utterance of its formal prayers; these are its attributes, its natural outcome, not by any means the thing itself. Religion is, I take it, to be a principle, a powerful guiding motive to direct us in the ordinary affairs of life, and its mainspring is love. Love for whom? For the Lord Jesus. And if we love Him, and truly desire to serve Him, it will be no difficulty for us, but a natural and exquisite result, that we love one another.
Even the enemies of Christ, who deny His divinity, admit the beauty and perfectness of His character, and the unselfishness and holiness of His earthly life. Since these three-and-thirty years He walked with men many new Christs have risen, many new creeds and dogmas been offered for the world's acceptance; but all have passed away, disappeared into nothingness, and Christ remains, the mainstay and salvation of human souls. His teaching is still the very best we can obtain for our guidance here. Take the Sermon on the Mount, for instance. How perfect it is, how comprehensive, how full of little things, and yet how wide-reaching in its limit! There is nothing forgotten; nearly nineteen hundred years old, and yet it is adapted for every need of the human soul. If we could get the spirit of that blessed teaching more firmly planted in our hearts, we could make the world a happier place for ourselves and others. We are all fond of laying plans for the future; and there are few of us who do not at least once a year review the past, and make new resolves for the future. Some of us are constantly taking retrospects, and sometimes feel hopeless. We seem to be making so little progress in that higher life which we desire, and strive after in some degree. In a twofold sense this looking back may be made profitable to us. It must always, unless we are very hard of heart, make us grateful for past mercies; and when we consider how wonderfully and tenderly we have been led through difficulties and trials, or dangers, or guided through the more perilous waters of prosperity and success, it will give us greater heart to go forward to whatever may lie before us. When we look back on lost opportunities, it must make us more watchful of those present with us, and help us to give to each new day as it comes something upon which we shall afterwards look back without regret. The older I grow the more strongly do I feel that religion is a matter of daily living—of practice, not precept; and that unless the Spirit of Christ animate us in all our relations one to the other we name His name in vain. And what a lovely spirit it was, unsullied by any trace of selfishness, gentle, forbearing, long-suffering, just to the last degree!
It is this spirit alone that can sanctify and bless the home, and raise all common life out of a sordid groove; that can make homely things beautiful, and hard things, of which so many meet us on life's road, easier to bear. Oh that we had a larger baptism of it; that we who so long and strive for it could have it always with us! Human nature is so perverse, and self so strong. Yet, even in its weakest efforts, this earnest desire to live the religion Christ has taught us will not go unblessed, but will make its little lesson felt wherever it is found. Because it makes us more self-denying, more charitable, more forbearing in every relation of life, it will make others inquire concerning the hope that is in us.
"In hidden and unnoticed ways;
In household work, on common days,"
we may do the Master's work, and make our homes altars to His glory.
We want less talk and more action, less precept and more example, which though reticent of speech is yet eloquent in testimony for good or for evil. So, whatever be our lot or circumstances, whatever our joys and sorrows, our losses or crosses, we may with confidence look ahead, and our great compensation will not be lacking—"She hath done what she could"; and again, "Well done, good and faithful servant: enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."
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