"I wonder so that mothers ever fret
At little children clinging to their gown,
Or that the foot-prints, when the days are wet,
Are ever black enough to make them frown.
If I could find a little muddy boot,
Or cap, or jacket, on my chamber floor;
If I could kiss a rosy, restless foot,
And hear it patter in my house once more;
If I could mend a broken cart to-day,
To-morrow make a kite to reach the sky,
There is no woman in God's world could say
She was more blissfully content than I.
But ah! the dainty pillow next my own
Is never rumpled by a shining head;
My singing birdling from its nest is flown;
The little boy I used to kiss is dead."
My sisters, God would have you who are mothers to be nursing mothers for Heaven, your nursery, your home, the school of Christ. Let every mother here take to heart the story of Monica and Augustine. You know that the future Bishop and famous preacher was as a young man given up to all kinds of vicious courses, and refused to embrace the faith of his mother, a devoted Christian. His dissipation and impiety were a constant source of sorrow to the gentle Monica, who never ceased to pray for him. When Augustine was a student at Carthage, drinking deeply of the beautiful poisoned chalice of heathen literature, the mother's letters to her son were full of the sweet lessons of Christianity. Still Augustine persevered in the old evil way, and when he gained fame as a teacher he still disregarded the words of Monica She prayed on, but almost in despair. One night she dreamed than an angel appeared to her, and promised that where she was there her beloved Augustine should be. She told the vision to her son, who made light of it, saying, that if it meant anything, it was that she should adopt his faith. "Nay," said his mother, "it was not said to me, 'Where he is you shall be,' but, 'Where you are he shall be.'" Still the years went on, and there was no change in Augustine. Monica consulted a great Christian Bishop, who bade her persevere, since it was impossible that the child of so many tears and prayers should perish. After a while Augustine journeyed to Rome, his mother's prayers going with him. There he heard S. Ambrose preach, and his heart was touched. There was a hard struggle between the old life and the new for a time, and Monica was with Augustine in his conflict. At last she saw of the travail of her soul, and was satisfied. O mothers, pray as Monica prayed for Augustine, if you would have your children grow up as God's children set them a strong example, and pray without ceasing.
There is, in a certain country Churchyard, a grave-stone with this epitaph—"He loved little children." Few of us could wish for a better. Sometimes a whole life is written in one sentence, it was so, no doubt, in this case. There is not, to my mind, among all the epitaphs in S. Paul's Cathedral, or Westminster Abbey, telling the praises of soldiers, heroes, statesmen, anyone to compare with the simple sentence—"He loved little children." Now, brethren, if we love little children, we can best show our love by having them brought up as Christian children; by having them taught to love the Church of their Baptism, and to know and reverence the Bible. The question of the day is education with God or without God, a creedless School where the young may believe anything, or nothing, or a Church School where they are brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, and grounded in the faith of their fathers. Perhaps there was never a time when England was in so critical a state as now, and its future depends on our children. Outside enemies are clamouring at the doors of the Church, crying, "down with it, down with it, even to the ground." The Franchise will be practically in the hands of everyone; and what will the future of the Church and the State be, when this new power is placed in the hands of those who have been brought up without any definite religious faith? The policy of the day is to shut God out of our Schools, as we have tried to shut Him out of our legislature and our commerce. We find our boys at the Public Schools, and our young men at the Universities, frequently taught by men who openly profess unbelief, and talk of the Incarnation and kindred doctrines as "beautiful myths." We find the children of our parishes brought up in creedless Schools, where all dogmatic teaching is excluded, and we may well fear lest England should drift into the utter unbelief of France.
My brethren, you may take care of your children's intellects, you may give them what is called a "good education," but I tell you no education can be good which is not based upon the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. You may educate a child to pass one of the endless examinations of the day, but we must remember that there is a great and final examination to be passed, when all earthly competitions are ended. Remember your child's soul, and educate him for Heaven.
SERMON LXIV.
MUTUAL HELP.
(Female Friendly Society.)
S. MARK iii. 35.
"Whosoever shall do the Will of God, the same is My brother, and My sister, and My mother."
There are just two points which I want to put before you to-day. First, what you as Christian women ought to be. Secondly, how you can help each other to be so. On the first point I would ask you to remember the glory and dignity of womanhood. You get this dignity from Jesus Christ, who was born of a woman, and who said, "Whosoever shall do the Will of God, the same is My brother, and My sister, and My mother." Before Christ came into the world the condition of women was most miserable. They were degraded, despised, treated as slaves, and beasts of burden, as they are in heathen lands to this day. Since Christ came every good woman is loved, honoured, and respected. Jesus Christ set us the example. It was on a woman's breast that the Son of God found earthly refuge. It was to a woman who had been probably a great sinner, and out of whom He had cast seven devils, that Jesus gave the first news of His Resurrection. He told Mary Magdalene to announce the Gospel of the risen Jesus to His disciples. This, my sisters, is the true work of every Christian woman, to teach those around you, the children, the household, the busy men, the Gospel of the higher life, the Gospel of the Resurrection. And this is not to be done with the preacher's voice from the pulpit, but with the still, small voice of love and gentleness, and sweet temper, and purity; by that most powerful of all sermons—a good example.