MESSENGERS[18]
The Eyes of Flame[19] are resting upon us; we do not want to get away for a moment from that thought as our central message. But get away from the idea that "the Bishop is asking us to come for a Quiet Day." As I believe events have proved, it is Jesus Christ Himself going round the diocese in the power of the Spirit. Wonderful things have happened on these Quiet Days. Men have been so struck to the heart that they have resigned their livings; they have seen what they ought to have been, and with the aid of the Holy Spirit, before the Eyes of Flame, have contrasted that with what they are. If it is Jesus Christ coming round, then we cannot be too quiet on such a Day in listening to His voice all the time. It is therefore with the Eyes of Flame resting upon us and with the prayer "Speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth," "I will hearken what the Lord God will say concerning me," that we will think over three things that we are expected to be. And the first is a Messenger. You will remember that, when we first stood before the Bishop for ordination, we were told of a great treasure that was committed to our care. We have spent much time thinking over that treasure.[20] We were reminded that we were to be messengers, watchmen, stewards. Now we will simply take the title "messengers."
Let us picture the messenger; let us forget the tame surroundings and monotonous features of the life we lead, and picture ourselves as real living messengers. We might take one of our despatch-riders. Few things are more really splendid than the way the undergraduates of Oxford and Cambridge are doing most of the despatch-riding at the front—our own boys, we may say, have been carrying the despatches during this campaign. It is very dangerous work. One of the boys whom I have known all his life is now a despatch-rider in the war, having to take these messages at any cost. Everything depends upon the despatch getting there. The whole brigade will be cut to pieces if the despatch is not sent there. They only send despatches for the most urgent reasons. There the despatch-riders are in the darkness, threading their way through all the great holes made by the shells, pushing on to take the despatches. They are messengers with a vengeance, taking their lives in their hands, realising the vital importance of getting their message through.
Now, I am going to take a particular messenger because his character and life are very carefully described to us in detail by one of our great poets. I think it will come home to us more if I can describe the picture of the messenger of Athens given us by Browning in that wonderful poem "Pheidippides." It may be more familiar to some than it is to others. I will just sketch Browning's picture. Pheidippides tells how he started on a mission of absolutely vital importance, and the whole problem was to get to Sparta in time to get help. He dashes off, and stands before the Spartan Senate.
"Persia has come!
Persia bids Athens proffer slaves'-tribute, water and earth;
Razed to the ground is Eretria; but Athens, shall Athens sink,
Drop into dust and die—the flower of Hellas utterly die,
Die with the wide world spitting at Sparta, the stupid, the stander-by?"
It is a matter of absolute life and death, and that is the first thing about the messenger I want you to notice. Either he got there or he did not; either he persuaded them or he did not. He gave his message, though he did not succeed in persuading Sparta to undertake the needed help. The fate of his country depended entirely upon his effort. There is something glorious in his absolute devotion to his country. Then, when he had given his message, he waited for the answer, and he is described as quivering with eagerness:
"The limbs of me fretting as fire frets, an inch from dry wood."
That expresses the keenness with which he waited for the answer. And the answer, which, as you remember, was an evasive one, counselling delay, is thus characterised by Pheidippides:
"Athens, except for that sparkle—thy name, I had mouldered to ash."