He came like the dawn in its soft and silent approach. Then, also, in another manner. Not suddenly, nor all at once. The sun's rising is a gradual and progressive thing. First, there is but a faint gray twilight, softening the darkness and heralding what is to come, then a few dim purple streaks spread upon the far eastern horizon, followed shortly by the golden tips of the great luminary lifting the gates of the morning. So with our divine Dayspring. From all eternity it was determined that this Dayspring should come. Adam, going weeping from a paradise lost, and after him Seth and Enoch and Noah and Shem and Abraham beheld from afar the early dawn, the dim and vague streaks. The types and holy sacrifices offered in the temple after that, the psalms and prophecies given by God's inspired servants, gave still nearer and clearer views of what was to come. Zacharias exults as he sees the tips, as it were, beginning to appear. And we, with the whole Christian world, are hastening these days in spirit to see the sun rising over the hills of Judea in Bethlehem's town. How in its promises and preparations—its gradual development—was the coming of Christ like the day-spring, the rising dawn.
Nor can we afford to overlook one other feature in the manner of Christ's visit as the Dayspring. The sun comes every morning, shining for all and singling out none. There is a universality of kindness about it. The poorest man and the richest, all classes and all things, have the same access to its undivided radiance. How much is this like Christ's coming! "God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son." "Behold," was the angelic proclamation on Christmas night, "I bring you glad tidings of great joy which shall be to all people." The Christmas story enters into the world with the broad universal look of daylight. It is as wide and open to all as is this earth. It singles out none, it excludes none, it wishes to bless a whole guilty world with the same impartiality as the sun. The Christmas message is unlimited in its invitation: "Come hither, ye faithful, O come, one and all." Silently, gradually, universally, hath and doth the Dayspring from on high visit us. And why—that is the concluding feature of our contemplation, why has it visited us? What is its object in doing so?
The sun is the dispenser of the world's light and warmth and fruitfulness. Without the day-dawn everything would be chilliness, darkness, desolation, and death. Let the sun arise, shoot forth his cheering and enlivening rays,—the dormant germs start up, the buds swell, the birds sing, and man goes forth to ply the occupation of his hands. Christ is the same to the human race. He rose above the darkness of Judaism and over the night of heathenism. He declared: "I am the Light of the world." "When once Thou visitest the heart, the truth begins to shine." New life, new energy, new understanding takes hold upon the dormant and dead soul, and the fruits of righteousness spring up. To quote the text and language of Zacharias: "To give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace." There is not the least exaggeration about it; wherever Christ is preached, the darkness flees as night flies before the sun, the clouds of ignorance and superstition pass away. Pardon of sin, purity of morals, comfort in affliction, triumph in death,—these are a portion of what follows. Do these things not constitute the light of life of man? What else does?
Is, to conclude, Christ such a light to you? Would you permit this season to pass without diligently inquiring whether "the Dayspring from on high" has visited your souls? Do you rejoice at His coming with holy joy? Invigorating, inspiring is the sight of a morning dawn; are you so welcoming again the Dayspring from on high about to send its healing beams, its cheering, holy splendor upon our world? Open your hearts to receive and to realize the significance and blessedness of this "Dayspring from on high, which by the tender mercy of our God hath visited us." Amen.
CHRISTMAS.
Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable Gift.—2 Cor. 9, 15.
Joy to the world,—the Lord is come,
Let earth receive her King,
Let every heart prepare Him room,
And heaven and nature sing.
With these words of exultation would I greet you on this festival morn. Joy to the world, the Lord is come; the King, Messiah, after weeks of preparation, is making His triumphal entry into the habitation of men. Indeed, the long expected guest, with whom our thoughts, songs, and services in the past season of Advent were occupied, has at length arrived. How shall we receive Him? When He first came, nineteen hundred and —— years ago, in Bethlehem's town, there was a stir and commotion. Wise men suspended their studies and speculations and followed the sign in the firmament which conducted them to the place where the young Child lay; an angel from heaven was sent as a herald to proclaim the glad tidings of great joy, while the multitude of the heavenly host eagerly descended to congratulate men and made the celestial heights resound with their seraphic acclamation: "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." And, taking up that chant: "Our heart from very joy doth leap, our lips no more can silence keep." Dull like the ground he walks upon must be the man who, amongst the holy demonstration that is upon the social world, the cheerful merrymaking that is in earth's homes, the radiations of festivities and greetings of cordiality and good will, will not feel a pulsation of that cheer and brightness in his own heart. How this fact of our Christian faith, our Savior's birth, God's assumption of mutual flesh, the coming of the Most High to tabernacle among men, has been more than any other an occasion of universal rejoicing, the center of earth's noblest and holiest joy in family and in the sanctuary! Is it not fitting that it should be so? Merry Christmas, happy Christmas, blessed Christmas, we bid thee welcome! We rejoice that in the rounds of the calendar it has come again. And how shall we observe it? How receive its spiritual and highest blessedness unto ourselves? By lighting up a few candles on our trees? Decorating our windows and walls with some sprigs of garlands and green? By attending a few services during which we are present in body, but largely absent in spirit? The quiet contemplation, the sinking of our minds into the great mystery of godliness: God manifested in the flesh, the realization as it comes from pious meditation of what it all means to us and to all mankind, and that when the external glamor and motion shall have passed over, it shall have left us benefited and blessed in soul, beloved, is not this, after all, for us Christians, the true significance of this holiday time? And it is in harmony with this, that we would bring to our minds the words of the text. Let us devoutly, with concentrated and holy thoughts, regard God's gift, for thus reads the text: "Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable Gift."
I. Which is this gift? II. Note what is said about it. III. Our conduct respecting it.