Put the stronger case of an immense host of northern barbarians being landed on our coasts (Tartars, Cossacks, Calmucks), and joined there by the legions of the Popish states, what would happen if we all, as Christians, judged it wrong and wicked to fight? Unless, indeed, we should suppose a divided opinion in the nation with respect to the Christian principle of the case, and that so a very large and powerful proportion was resolute to resist in all the array and action of war. Now, while with the utmost sacrifice and peril they were doing so, and suppose successfully, what a remarkable phenomenon would be presented! namely, the other division of the people deploring these very proceedings and successes by which their houses are saved from ravage and desolation,—deploring them as an awful outrage against Christian rectitude,—praying for the instant conversion of these deluded men to a right apprehension of Christian duty,—that they might immediately throw away their arms and allow the barbarian inundation to burst forward! Or, having failed in this prayer (and a mighty victory having finally cleared the land of the infernal irruption), then lamenting that a dreadful national violation of Christian principles had been irretrievably consummated! And as success purchased by crime can in the result be little else than a calamity and a judgment, they might be alarmed and dismayed to find themselves still in possession of their former freedom of worship, of speech, of action, and of all their rights as citizens.—Foster. (Written in 1823.)
[3] It is difficult to realise the fact to our imagination. No fighting on the face of the whole earth! no armies, no military profession, no garrisons, nor arms, nor banners, nor proclamations! No leagues, offensive or defensive; no guarding of frontiers; no fortresses; no military prisons! No celebrating of victories in gaudy pomps and revelries for the vulgar, or in prostituted poetry for the more refined! A wondering what kind of times those could be in which mankind accounted it the highest glory to kill one another! Truly this is a state of things we are ill prepared even to conceive!—Foster.
[4] Such things will be included, certainly, in whatever process can and shall reduce the world at length to peace; they will be taken as accessories and subsidiaries to the Master Power in operation. But whoever would reckon on such things alone should be strangely mortified, one thinks, in adverting to many facts of old and recent history. What, for example, is he to do with the history of Greece? or of the Italian Republics? Or nearer home, Britain and France account themselves the most enlightened and civilised states in the world; they have not been, with all their might, fighting and slaying each other and neighbouring nations for centuries, almost without intermission, down to this time! In the French revolutionary government, which, after a time, became essentially warlike, there were more philosophers, speculative, literary men, than ever in any other. In our own country, through the last half-century, the enlightened and civilised people (often so described and lauded at least) have needed but a little excitement, at any time, to rush out into war. Our institutions of learning, and even theology, have constantly abetted the spirit. An ever-flowing, impetuous stream there has been of oratory, poetry, and even pulpit declamation, mingling with and inspiriting the coarse torrent of the popular zeal for battles and victories. We have had both poets and divines actually sending the most immoral heroes to heaven, on the mere strength of their falling in patriotic combat. All this tells but ill for the efficacy of civilisation, literature, refinement, and the instruction of experience to promote the spirit of peace, without the predominance of some mightier cause.—Foster.
[5] What will the natural consequences be in respect to war? Will it not be coldness towards that pernicious phantasm, martial “glory”;—a loathing of that sort of eloquence and poetry that are making a god of it;—a hatred of the very name of ambitious conquerors;—horror at the image of vast masses of men waiting to destroy one another;—a sense of the flagrant absurdity, as well as iniquity, of the avenging some little wrong at the cost of so mighty a portion and variety of misery;—and a faith that Providence has not so abandoned the world that we are not to wait one moment for any interposition from it in favour of justice, but, the instant the scales of justice are poised, we must throw in the sword? Such would be the spirit and temper of a nation predominantly Christian.—Foster.
God Exalted in the Great Day.
(Advent Sermon.)
ii. 17. The Lord alone shall be exalted in that day.
Two questions: What is “that day?” How shall the Lord then be exalted?
I. “That day.” “The first five verses of this chapter foretell the kingdom of the Messiah, the conversion of the Gentiles, and their admission into the Church. From the sixth verse to the end is foretold the punishment of the unbelieving Jews for their idolatrous practices, their confidence in their own strength, and distrust of God’s protection; and, moreover, the destruction of idolatry in consequence of the establishment of Messiah’s kingdom.”—Lowth. But here, as in many other portions of Scripture, a larger and remoter meaning looms beyond and behind the first sense of the expressions, which would otherwise be too big and swelling for the actual interpretation of them. Compare the description in which the text twice occurs with the almost parallel passages in chap. v. 14–16. How magnificent! What startling terms! What emphatic iterations! Surely a want of fitness and congruity would almost be felt if expressions such as these referred only to some temporal calamity of the Jewish nation; surely we cannot mistake in looking onward to some mightier catastrophe, to some final exaltation of God and abasement of all creatures. By “that day,” therefore, we mean what is elsewhere called “the day,” “the great day,” “the day of judgment,” “the great and terrible day of the Lord”—the consummation of all things.