Lent is over, its special discipline has passed, and now the danger begins. The danger is lest any progress made, any victory won, should lead to that self-confidence which can only end in disaster. Success is often a discipline far more fatal in its results than failure.
We celebrate to-day the grandest victory the world has ever known: a victory which sprang out of the depths of an apparently complete defeat. "We trusted that it was He which should have redeemed Israel." Vain confidence, for how could One Who had died as a malefactor, Who could not save Himself, rescue His nation from the tyranny of the Roman power? And then He, this stranger Whom they knew not, opened to them the Scriptures; showed them the necessity of the sufferings, and the great climax, in the Resurrection. The ears were dull, the hearts unconvinced, as they generally are by mere argument, till he revealed Himself in "the breaking of bread." The eyes of love could not be deceived and sorrow gave place to joy.
Some dispute has arisen as to whether we ought to pray for victory in this War. The matter is well put by an anonymous writer: "If we are only to pray in matters wherein there is no difference of opinion our prayers will be few, and if we cannot pray for the triumph of honour over falsehood, of respect for treaties over unscrupulousness, of order over cruelty and outrage, for what are we ever to pray? We must pray according to the light we have. And if we end our prayers with the truly Christian supplement 'Nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt,' we cannot be doing anything contrary to the principles of the highest religion. Surely prayer is, or should be, merely the expression of our best hopes and wishes submitted to a Divine tribunal."
Putting aside the question of prayer, let us consider for a moment what should be our attitude as we look into the future. First and foremost one of confidence and hopefulness. Without arrogance we can say that we believe firmly and strongly in the absolute righteousness of our cause. In violating the neutrality of Belgium, Germany itself confesses that a wrong was done. A wrong which necessity compelled, as they say. What necessity? That of getting to Paris at the earliest possible moment. And so when Germany prays for victory, as of course it does, and ought, at the same time it has to confess to an initial wrong, which was certainly not made right by the fact that it was the quickest way of accomplishing an end.
We have purposely abstained in these Addresses from fanning flames, or appealing to passions. But here is a broad ground upon which, by the very confession of our enemies, we stand on a higher platform. We went to war because we would not break a treaty, nor forsake a friend too weak for self-defence; Germany commenced the war by a treacherous act. Therefore, strong in the belief that the God of righteousness will cause the right to triumph, we can calmly look forward to ultimate victory,
To doubt would be disloyalty,
To falter would be sin.
Much more might be said in the same direction, but let the broad thought suffice.
The war has produced a type of pessimism which, in some instances, runs almost to disturbance of mental balance. Every reverse is exaggerated, and accepted with a kind of confident despondency; every success discounted and treated with half-hearted incredulity: "The Germans have destroyed another ship; what is our Navy doing?" "Oh, but that's only one little hill; the Germans will have it back soon enough." Surely this kind of pessimism, except where the victim of it is not really responsible, must be as offensive to God as it is exasperating to man.
But now to turn to our chief thought for the day, that is, the permanence of the victory of Easter Day, "Christ dieth no more." That is why He is called "The first fruits of them that are asleep." Several resurrections are recorded both in the Old and New Testaments, but these are cases of those who were raised by others, and then died again. Christ raised Himself and death hath no more dominion over Him. The resurrection is permanent and keeps on perpetuating and extending itself in the life of the whole universal Church. It was not an isolated act, but part of a wondrous plan. Not only does it possess doctrinal significance in that plan, but vital force for the carrying of it out. "He died for our sins," but "He was raised for our justification."