Faith and Duty
————
Sermons on Free Texts

With Reference to the Church-Year

By the
REV. LOUIS BUCHHEIMER
Pastor of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Our Redeemer, St. Louis, Mo.

ST. LOUIS, MO.
CONCORDIA PUBLISHING HOUSE
1913

CONTENTS.

FIRST SUNDAY IN ADVENT.

Come thou and all thy house into the ark.—Gen. 7, 1.

The Bible, from beginning to end, is a series of object lessons. God sets before us certain persons, things, events, and bids us look at and learn from them, just as the teacher at school draws a diagram on the blackboard, and tells the children to look at and learn from it. No word, or single incident, recorded in the Bible, is wasted or useless; what may, at first glance, sometimes appear trifling and unimportant to us, may, on closer examination, mean very much, like the decimal point in arithmetic or the accent on a word. So it is with the words of the text just quoted. They may seem insignificant, yet are they most important.

The present season, beginning with this Sunday, is called Advent. We are accustomed, in the four weeks before Christmas, to direct our minds to Christ's advent or coming. This advent, we say, is threefold: First, there is Christ's coming in the flesh, when as a little babe He lay in the manger at Bethlehem, taking upon Himself the form of Abraham, made in the likeness of human flesh, and performing the pilgrimage of an earthly life that He might thus save man. Again, we distinguish His second coming, i. e., His return, as we confess in the Creed, "to judge the quick and the dead," when, arrayed in all the power and majesty of Almightiness, He shall come to execute vengeance upon the evildoers, vindicate and take home with Himself those who believed in Him. And between these two comings lies a third, which we are wont to designate "His spiritual coming," by which we mean His coming and knocking at the door of our hearts for admission. This coming is not visible, however, as the other two, but invisible, yet none the less real on that account, and it is carried on by means of His Word and sacraments, through the instrumentality of the preaching of the Gospel and the administration of Holy Baptism and the Lord's Supper, for the execution of which He has founded a divine institution called the Church. To that Church He has entrusted the work of Gospel preaching and sacramental giving. She, if true to her calling and message, is the conservatory of His truth, the disseminator of His kingdom upon earth. It is within her pales that He dispenses salvation. Outside of the Church He does not promise to bestow forgiveness of sin and the blessings of His grace. How these preliminary remarks bear upon the selection and consideration of our text, what precious and instructive lessons we may gather from the comparison, that let us see, and may we be wise and heed.

"Come thou and all thy house into the ark," reads the command of God. We immediately perceive with what account of ancient history that connects. The people of the Old World, the antediluvians, as they are generally called, had become so corrupt in morals and life that God determined their destruction and said: "The end of all flesh is come before me, for the earth is filled with violence," yet, to show His desire to save them, He appointed His servant Noah to preach righteousness to them, and directed him to build an ark as an evidence that He was minded to carry out His purpose, and as a means of safety for Noah. Few, however, none, in fact, except Noah and his immediate family, eight souls in all, took the warning to heart. Many a one of that perverse generation, we may surmise, even assisted in the construction of the ark, and the patriarchal minister would exhort them to forsake their sins and worship God, only to be sneered at for his credulity and ridiculed for his nonsensical eccentricity of building such a boathouse.

But the hundred and twenty years given for probation expired, and Noah receives directions to embark. "Come thou," is the command, "into the ark." Just one week is allowed to bring into the ark all his family, and the birds and beasts to be preserved, and then—what an unusual sound it must have been—the door was shut, not by Noah's, or any human hand, but by the hand of Jehovah; for it is written: "And the Lord shut him in," and now, amid the war of heaven's artillery and the shaking of the earth, the fountains of the deep burst open, and the windows of the skies break loose, and the greatest and most terrible calamity Revelation records is on. Imagination cannot portray the scenes that must have then been enacted,—how, forgetful of everything but self-preservation, they fled towards the singular building, which but a little before they had insolently defied; how, perhaps laboring in their distraction to scramble up its huge sides, the angry tide of waters keeps them down, and with a cry of despair they dash into the watery abyss; how some, climbing up to the loftiest pinnacle and summit of the mountains, in the hope that perhaps at the end the door may be opened to receive a few more, they see the wondrous ship dashing along, gallant and safe, and hear that gurgling sound, the death requiem of their race, rising higher and higher. Oh! who can describe the anguish, the woe, the cursing of self. But it was now too late, and yet, whose fault was it? Provision had been made, probation time had been granted them; there was none to blame but themselves. God's warnings are not empty sounds, His institutions not for ridicule and rejection. And now, more generally, for the application.

We, too, have an ark, a New Testament Ark. God, Himself, as the divine architect and artificer, has built it; He devised the plans, He selected the material, and employs the Noahs in its construction; daily do we see before our eyes its towers and walls, hear regularly and pleadingly the bells sending out the invitation: "Come thou into the ark." You know what this ark is,—it's the Holy Christian Church, that divine structure which by Him has been finished these 1900 years. There, in the midst of a world of sin and depravity, upon which God has pronounced His righteous judgments as clearly as upon the race of antediluvians, it stands,—the great, the capacious Gospel Ark, a refuge of safety; come whatever Jehovah may commission upon our guilty world, it is certain to ride safely above the tumultuous tempest and bring us gallantly to the celestial mountain, the Ararat of Heaven.

My dear hearer, have you entered into that ark? Is your name enrolled among the list of passengers? And why not? Make known the reason of your backwardness. In other words, without figure, lay before you the question: Why are you not a church-member? Why do you stand aloof from the church? Why do you not join? I shall listen to a few of your reasons, and then tell you why you ought to join. Perhaps you are laboring under the fear that there is not room enough for you in the ark, that you are not invited among them to whom the gracious offer is tendered. Banish that thought instantly from your mind. "Not room enough in the ark!" "Not wanted!" "Come thou and thy house into the ark." You know the beautiful parable of the Great Supper, to which all and sundry were invited, and after everything had been precisely done as the master had commanded, the servant comes and tells the master of the house: "Yet there is room." A striking truth! Those words reveal that the Christian Ark is not yet fully tenanted, that, as the invitation is still out, you are yet in time.

"Not room—not wanted!" God forbid that such a thought should in your breasts be found. "Come unto me," declared your Savior, "come thou into the ark." But you say: "I do belong to the church, the so-called 'Big Church,' i. e., to the number of those who still profess to be Christians, who uphold Christian principles and live good moral lives, who aim at what is right, and I am just as good and honest as any in the church." Perhaps so, my dear friend, perhaps more so, for not all that profess to be church-members are such; some are slimy and wily hypocrites. But you, as an honorable and professing Christian, ought to be a church-member, for you know that Christ does not acknowledge the "Big Church" of which you are speaking. You cannot put asunder what Christ has joined together. He has joined these two things together, Himself and the Church; outside of His ark He promises no salvation, and you have no right to expect it. For what is the Church? It is Christ's provision for the salvation of man,—how? By the preaching of His holy Word and the administration of His sacraments, as we heard. Is the Word of God preached in the "Big Church"? Is Baptism administered, the Lord's Communion received? How can faith in the Savior then be wrought, maintained, forgiveness of sins secured, hope and salvation? "Faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God," says the Bible. "If ye continue in my Word, then are ye my disciples, indeed," says the Savior. "He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved." "Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, ye have no life in you."

I doubt not that many of the antediluvians did not despise the ark outright. Who knows but what they might have thought there was something to it,—when the great calamity comes we shall be all right,—and that they told the preacher of righteousness: "Never mind about us, Noah, our record is still good." But salvation was in the ark, and there it is to-day; you cannot separate Christ from His Church, Christliness from Churchliness, for the Church is Christ's, and Christ is in His Church; and I know not, from the study of God's Word, the Bible, what right any man has to stand aloof from the Christian Church and call himself a Christian. The "Big Church" is a big delusion.

"Yes, I recognize that I ought to belong to the Church, but I do not like to bind myself," pleads another. Bind yourself? To what? To a life of godliness, to a conduct becoming a Christian, to the duties incumbent upon a member? Why, if you are a Christian at all, you are bound by these things already. The further few hours occasionally given to the deliberation of congregational affairs ought not to deter you. You are bound already, why speak about binding yourself? And you certainly do not want to be unbound,—for in the ark alone is your safety.

There are yet other reasons why some do not join the Church. In our materialistic age, there are hundreds whom the love of money keeps out of the house of God. It costs something, and they shun costs, no matter for what purpose—ever so noble. They hold connections which the Church cannot sanction, belong to organizations against which it finds itself compelled to testify, and because people cannot bear to have their connections reproved, and do not stop to weigh and consider what the Church has to say, they immediately, without any further ado, break off all relation with the Church, and raise the cry against it of being too strict, and stay away from the preaching and the sacraments, none of which have been denied them, and to which they are warmly invited and heartily welcomed. They will once have to answer for it. The invitation remains: "Come thou and all thy house into the ark."—

And now, having listened to why some people do not belong to the Church, let us regard a few reasons why each and every Christian ought to be a church-member. First, there is the positive command of God. The Lord said unto Noah—commanded, directed him: "Come thou and all thy house into the ark." His directions to us and ours are not less specific. His Third Commandment reads: "Thou shalt sanctify the holyday." Where does the sanctification of that day take place but in His Church, in the observance of its institutions? He warns: "Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is." Again, take all such clear passages in which He commands us to profess piety as this: "I say unto you, Whosoever shall confess me before men, him will I also confess before my Father which is in heaven," which, if it means anything, certainly means that we must either be publicly and openly rated among His confessors, or He will not consent to acknowledge us among His saints. How can a man be a proper child of God who will not so much as give His name as a believer? What guarantee has he to count securely on salvation if he refuses to say before men whether he takes Christ as his Redeemer, or not? It is true: "With the heart man believeth unto righteousness," but it is equally true: "With the mouth confession is made unto salvation." Church-membership is not optional; it is imperative, it is based upon God's command.

Another reason for church-membership is, that a Christian must advance his Master's cause. If you are at liberty to decline connection with Christ's Church, then I am; if one is, all are, and how, then, can there be the maintenance of the ministry, the furtherance of the manifest kingdom of God? We pray daily: "Hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." When is God's name hallowed? When does His kingdom come? And by what influences and agencies is His will done on earth but by this organization established by Himself for that purpose,—His holy Church? Who keeps up the work of the ministry with its schools of education, who maintains the propagation of the faith by the support of missions, and all those other efforts essential to the preservation and spreading of Christ's kingdom, and you, as a disciple of Christ, should be found standing aloof from it, not helping along yourself, yea, by your passive indifference and non-cooperation setting a bad example unto others? Your duty in this respect is as plain as Noah's,—you should get into the ark.

And, reason last. It promotes your own good. Aside from what we have already emphasized, there is something in the simple matter of being known and feeling committed as a member of a Church which strengthens and helps a man. It restrains where otherwise there would be no restraint. It induces to arouse a livelier sense of religious obligations, stimulates to stricter fidelity in the observance of things which otherwise are easily neglected, secures the watch and oversight of experienced Christians, and, withal, gives a force and quickening which comes from conviction that one is rated as a disciple of Christ and looked to for example in faith, in word, and in deeds. It brings spiritual things and Christian duty closer home. If conscientiously attended to, it is a blessing to you, and it makes you a blessing to others.

Let this suffice on this subject at this time. Let those who have held and are holding membership draw a rule from what has been said for the regulation of their conduct. So divine and essential a cause enlists their endeavors. Let them make it their business to honor it, to widen and extend its influences by being punctual at the services, by being particular in the observance of its sacraments, by being uncompromising in the belief and defense of its faith, by being active in encouraging all efforts necessary to its life and success. And those who have hitherto stood aloof from the Church, or who are mere lingerers about its gates, let them also learn from this the unsatisfactoriness of their position, and be admonished of the duty and necessity that is upon them if they would find God and salvation.

"Come thou and thy family into the ark,"—what time could be more opportune than this first day of another year of God's grace? Consider the matter, and may it lead you to lay your vow upon God's altar and have your name recorded on the roster of the Church. Amen.

SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT.

And I saw a great white throne, and Him that sat on it. And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened; and another book was opened which is the book of life; and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works; and whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire.—Rev. 20, 11. 12. 15.

We are all acquainted, my beloved, with the verdict that was once pronounced upon King Belshazzar of Babylon,—how, seated one night at a royal banquet, with his princes, his wives and concubines, eating, drinking, and making merry, there suddenly appeared upon the wall of his palace the ghostly fingers of a man's hand tracing in clear and distinct letters the words: "Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin." When the king saw the mysterious script and surmised its probable meaning, his countenance was changed, the joints of his loins were loosed, and his knees smote one against another. The wisest man in his realm was sent for, one Daniel, the Lord's prophet, interprets the words and tells him: "Mene: God has numbered thy kingdom and finished it. Tekel: Thou art weighed in the balance and found wanting. Upharsin: Thy kingdom is divided and given to the Medes and Persians." Nor was it the space of two hours before the verdict met its fulfillment. Darius, the king of the Medes, by a subterranean passage, dug under the city's walls, broke into the city. Belshazzar was slain that night, and his mighty empire shattered like chaff before the wind.

"Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin," that is the handwriting which one might appropriately inscribe over the portals of this day. Loving and warning as was the picture which we contemplated on the last Lord's Day, where we observed our Savior riding in royal state, in the City of David, and heard the prophet's prediction: "Tell ye the daughter of Sion, Behold, thy King cometh unto thee, meek and sitting upon a colt," just as tremendous and awfully solemn is the account in to-day's Gospel, which presents to us that selfsame King transformed into a judge, His meekness into righteous display, His offers of salvation into sentences of sharpness, justice, and retribution, parceling out to every one, as He did unto Belshazzar at Babylon, the just verdict of his deed. It is Christ's "Second Advent," His coming to judge the quick and the dead, that forms the topic of our present contemplation, and taking up the account read from Revelations, step by step, may God's Holy Spirit make our consideration of it a blessing to your souls. Four things enlist our devotion: I. The Judge; II. the judged; III. the books; IV. the results.

The first thing that arrested the Apostle's eye was the throne. "And I saw a great white throne," he tells us. Thrones are the seats of kings and sovereigns, and they are always associated with the idea of regal splendor and magnificence. Just so the meaning is, that when the blessed and only Potentate, the King of kings and Lord of lords, appears in the clouds of heaven, He will be surrounded with the manifestations of grandeur, majesty, and dominion, as the Gospel indicates when it says: "Then shall ye see the Son of Man coming in great glory," and things are particularly specified, too, regarding this throne. It is a "great throne," like the one which Isaiah, the prophet, saw in one of his visions "high and lifted up," so that the millions and myriads of earth can easily discern it as the spot where they shall hear their eternal destiny read out. And it was also a "white" throne. White, in the language of the Bible and of all nations, is the mark of purity and holiness, and when, accordingly, the throne is designated as being "white," it means that white decisions will be rendered there, stainless judgment, unspotted by the least prejudice, crookedness, partiality, or mistakes; none will think of questioning their equity, or dream of appealing to any higher court. Their verdict will be final and fair.

The next object that attracted the Apostle's eye was the Judge Himself: "And I saw Him that sat on it." No further description of the personal appearance of the Judge is given. John simply says: "I saw Him," whence it follows that He can be seen, and, accordingly, it could not have been the absolute, invisible God, who cannot be seen. Who, then, was it? It was none other than Jesus Christ, of whom we confess in the Second Article that He was born of the Virgin Mary, was crucified, dead and buried, and the third day rose again, and, ascending into heaven, shall come again to judge the quick and the dead. This is the plain teaching of Scripture throughout. Christ Jesus, the Son of Man, wearing the very nature of those whom He judges, will be the Judge. "God hath appointed a day in which He will judge the world in righteousness by that man whom He hath ordained." But not any longer as the gentle, compassionate Savior, as the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world, but as the Lion of the tribe of Judah, as the Judge from whose face the earth and the heavens will flee away, and the unrighteous call out in despair: "Ye mountains, fall upon us, and ye hills, hide us from Him that sitteth on the throne." And think not, we would here add, that we are describing matters of imagination, such as poets and painters may dwell upon. We are describing things that will really happen. John saw these things in vision. You and I shall one day see these things in reality. "Behold, He cometh with clouds, and every eye shall see Him." Where shall be our place, what our portion at that time, in that day?

This we learn from the next point of consideration: Who shall be the judged? "And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God." By the "dead" here are meant all mankind, the entire family of earth, all of woman born, from Adam down to the last offspring of human race,—they must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ. It is computed that there are more than eighty millions of inhabitants in our land. This is about one-twentieth part of the entire population of the globe, which, at this time, is calculated at one billion five hundred millions. These one billion five hundred millions will be all gathered together into one thronging assemblage, and not they only, but also, in addition, the two hundred generations of men who have preceded us, and those generations—how many we know not, God knoweth—that will still live in the earth between these days and the last general judgment. These all, which no man can number, shall be judged. It says: "The great and small." There will be no distinction of age, size, color, or nation, condition or rank, those of high degree and those of low estate, the rich and the poor, the sovereign and his subjects, the man of silvery hair and the infant of a span long, the distinguished scholar and the untutored savage, husband and wife, pastor and people, apostles and sinners,—all shall stand before God. All the dead, whose bodies were once consigned by loving hands to quiet resting-chambers beneath mother earth, those whose bones lie bleached upon the desert's sands or Alpine mountains, those whose corpse was lowered down into watery depths,—immaterial how, when, or where dead,—these all shall yield up their tents when the trumpet of the archangel sounds to gather the children of men unto judgment. And with the parties thus arrayed at the bar, we proceed to the judgment itself.

"And the books were opened, and another book was opened which is the book of life. And the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books." Two sets of books are here spoken of: first, two books, and then another book. Other passages in God's Word also speak of books in connection with the Judgment. What the character of these books spoken of is we are not at a loss to determine; the one is the book of God's remembrance, and the other is the book of God's Word. Not as if God in reality employs books to make His entries; the all-knowing King needs no such helps to remind Him of men's actions. His all-capacious mind knows all things and forgets nothing. The idea is: Just as men, in their manifold dealings, do not trust to their memories, but use memoranda and records in order to be able to refer to them as occasion requires, just so, in condescension to our way of thinking, figuratively speaking, God represents Himself as keeping a book in which He has an exact record of what has been done by any creature, past, present, and future. And an exact record it will be, accurate in the minutest detail. Not only man's general character, the sum total of his life, whether (taken altogether) he was, on the whole, a worldly or a pious man, or the like, will be taken into account, but every trifling act, good or bad, of which his entire life was composed. The word is: "God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil." Everything. Nothing shall be kept back, nothing will be overlooked. That thought that passed so rapidly through your mind as hardly to be noticed, that word that so hastily escaped your lips, all the deliberate and determined actions which have left their stain upon your life, all these, down to the secret sin that you have been so successful in hiding from the sight of man, all, whether done in childhood, youth, manhood, or old age, all that has been committed or omitted, will be opened out to public view by the all-seeing, all-remembering Judge. This is the first book, the Book of Remembrance.

And the divine Arbiter opens another book. We have no difficulty in recognizing it at once. It is to us a familiar volume,—"The word that I have spoken, the same shall judge you in the last day," is the language of the Judge Himself. That book, we contend, is the guide and rule of our faith and actions in this life; it is also the statute-book of heaven, the touchstone by which our hearts and lives are to be tried in the life hereafter. Plain enough are the directions that book tells you. "Thou shalt love the Lord, thy God, with all thy heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself." Plainly does it speak to you and to all of heaven, of judgment, of eternity, of faith, of holiness, and of the new birth and conversion; plainly does it inform you of Him who redeemed us from the curse of the Law, being made a curse for us, that he that believeth in the Son hath eternal life, and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him. In brief, according to that opened Bible man shall be justified or condemned. Here is the standard, the rule.

How important, my beloved, that we should see on what terms we stand with our Bibles now—whether they justify us, or whether they condemn us. Oh, for that oft-neglected divine Book!

But there is a third book to be opened. That is the book of life, and "whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire." It was a custom generally observed at the courts of princes to keep a list of the persons employed in their service, of the officers of their armies, and sometimes even the names of the soldiers; and when it is said in the Bible that a person's name is written in the book of life, it means that he particularly belongs to God, is enrolled among His friends and followers. It is also probable that the early Christian churches, like our churches now, kept lists of their members, and that this term "book of life" was derived from such a custom, it being regarded that any one on the list was also an assured member of heaven. And how may I know whether my name is inscribed in this book of life? "He that believeth in the Son hath eternal life," and "he that believeth not in the Son, shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him." What determines our eternal destiny, our acceptance or rejection by the Judge, is our personal belief and faith in Jesus Christ; on that depends our salvation, our being enrolled or canceled from the book of life. "Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness, my jewels are, my glorious dress; in these before my God I'll stand when summoned to His own right hand." Nothing else will avail but faith in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, our Redeemer. That places our name in the book of life; with that men will stand or fall. "He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved, but he that believeth not shall be damned."

But does not the Record here, verse 12, and the Bible elsewhere, emphasize that we will be judged according to our works, according to what we have done? Indeed, but this does not contradict salvation by faith in Christ Jesus; our faith, to prove itself genuine, must work and does work. If there are no works, we may rest assured there is no faith. At the last day our works will be inquired into to ascertain the nature of our faith. If there is no love toward the brethren of Jesus, no manifestation of Christ's Spirit toward Christ's suffering members, we may take it for granted that faith is dead. Our works come into account as fruits of our faith; but faith in Christ Jesus is the principle on which all stand or fall, for—what will the outcome of that final judgment be? "And they shall go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous into life eternal." The Bible everywhere speaks, in connection with the Day of Judgment, of mankind being separated into two distinct portions. Now the wheat and tares grow together. There is a difference between them, even at the present, which the skilled eye in many instances can detect, but, as yet, they run together, and there is no severance of them into separate fields or pastures. It will not always be so. Infidels and Christians will one day cease to live under the same roof, or believers and unbelievers to be unequally yoked together, or the children of the devil and the children of God to be intermingled in the same families, firms, and societies. When men come to appear before their Judge, the record is: "He shall separate them one from another, and shall set the good as sheep on His right hand, but the goats on the left." In ancient times the left and right hand of a judge meant much. To be placed on the right hand signified acceptance, acquittal; on the left hand, condemnation, rejection. And He shall say to them on His right hand: "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world." And, addressing Himself to the other, there break from the lips of the Judge the dark, desolating words: "Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." One shudders to speak them, but here are the words from the lips of the almighty Judge Himself. Who can alter them? On the one side is an inheritance, a realm of divine blessedness, a kingdom which knows no evil, a life which knows no death. On the other side gapes a lake of unquenchable fire, never, indeed, meant or made for men. Punishments are there, and tears that ever fall, and flames that ever burn, and miseries that never exhaust. Exactly what it is I cannot tell, and wish that none may ascertain. I can only rehearse the expressions of God's Word upon the subject,—"blackness of darkness, worm that dieth not, weeping and gnashing of teeth"; and no representation is more awful than the one employed in the text, "a lake of fire," seething, sweltering, weltering fire, that shall never be quenched, everlasting burning.

And why, brethren, bring before you these solemn truths? Is it to torment you before the time? No, indeed, but as He Himself in to-day's Gospel declares, "that ye may be accounted worthy to escape all these things that shall come to pass, and to stand before the Son of Man," that you be sincere believers and worshipers here on earth, diligent in good works, and on that day be rated among those who shall inherit their Father's kingdom, and to that end:

King of Majesty, tremendous,
Who dost free salvation send us,
Fount of pity, then befriend us,
With the favored sheep, O place us!
Nor amid the goats abase us,
To Thine own right hand upraise us!

Amen.

THIRD SUNDAY IN ADVENT.

They are the messengers of the churches.—2 Cor. 8, 23.

St. Paul the Apostle was laboring in Macedonia. He had there learned that through the famine which then prevailed the pious converts in Judea were in pecuniary straits. He had applied for aid in their behalf to the brethren in Macedonia, and they, considering their poverty, had responded in the most liberal manner to his appeal. He informs the church of Corinth of this large benevolence, and states his conviction that the Corinthian believers, who were so much richer than those of Macedonia, would not allow themselves to be outdone in the extent of their bounty. Not satisfied with having informed them by letter, he also sends to them Titus and other Christian ministers to explain to them fully the wants of their suffering brethren and to raise the necessary supplies. Now, it appeared requisite for the information of those who were not sufficiently acquainted with the men sent that they should carry with them some introduction, some credentials. St. Paul, therefore, accredits them in the words of the text: "Whether any do inquire of Titus or of our brethren, they are the messengers of the churches and the glory of Christ."

It is not my intention, on the present occasion, to dwell upon the circumstances to which our text most immediately refers. My object is to impress upon your minds the solemn character of the ministerial office as explained by the expression: "messengers of the churches." The epistle of this Sunday suggests this, and the fact that it is the ——th anniversary of my ministry among you lends it a personal coloring. Two chief items commend our thoughts: I. The office of Christ's ministers, II. the duty of Christ's people,—what is it?

The office of Christ's ministers,—what is it? Announces Paul in the text: "They are the messengers of the churches." We all know the office of a messenger. It is to bear a message from one person to another person. This figure is frequently made use of in the Bible to illustrate the intercourse between God and man. Thus it is employed in reference to the Lord Himself. From all eternity He had been in the bosom of the Father, and when the fullness of time was come, He appeared in the form of a man, to make known, to declare, the message of the Father. That message was the unfolding of the everlasting covenant whereby God might be just and yet pardon and save the sinner. Hence, the Prophet Malachi predicts Christ's coming under this very name of Messenger: "The Lord whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to His temple, even the Messenger of the Covenant, whom ye delight in." Our blessed Lord, accordingly, was a messenger.

The angels, also, have often been employed to bring messages from God to man. They, likewise, are spoken of under this title. The Greek word which we translate "angel" means "messenger." The vision which Jacob saw at Bethel, the angels of God ascending and descending upon the ladder, aptly represents the services of those heavenly beings who are continually descending and ascending with tidings respecting the business which is being transacted between heaven and earth. Hence, the angel, or messenger, who appeared to Zacharias and told the purpose of his visit from the courts above: "I am Gabriel," said he, "that stand in the presence of God, and am sent to speak unto thee and to show thee these glad tidings."

But, besides the Lord Jesus and the angels, it has pleased God in His mercy and condescension to make use of men as His messengers to the human race, and so they are described in the Word of God. We read: "Thus spake Haggai, the Lord's messenger," and St. Paul, in writing to the Philippians, respecting their minister, says: "I supposed it necessary to send unto you Epaphroditus, my brother and companion in labor, but your messenger."

But, alas, through the corruption of our common nature, everything human is liable to be perverted. There are many who profess to be the Lord's messengers, who are not such. It is, accordingly, intimated in the Scripture, for the warning of Lord's people, that there are two classes of messengers, the evil and the good. In the history and prophecies of the Old Testament we read of false prophets who were not sent, and yet they ran and taught the people perverse doctrines and led many away from the true service of the living God. In the days of Israel in the wilderness there were Korah, Dathan and Abiram, who, contrary to the spirit of God, taught the people to rebel against Moses and Aaron. The Prophet Jeremiah speaks of a very busy set of false prophets who did not stand in the Lord's counsel and misled His people. And in the New Testament they are not missing,—there were the Pharisees, Judas, Hymenaeus, and Alexander. St. Paul bitterly complains about some who, to gain their own selfish purposes, pretended to be apostles, but who were not. Our Lord admonishes that, at all times of the Christian dispensation, we may expect false prophets wearing the clothing of sheep. Now, how are we to distinguish between the real and pretended messengers of Christ? The Lord Himself has told us: "By their fruits ye shall know them." If, therefore, a minister does not bring forth the proper fruits, say what he will to the contrary, he is not accredited by Christ,—he is not the Lord's messenger. One chief point by which we may judge is the "fruits of the lips." What message does he deliver? Is it the Lord's message, or is it some conceit of his own? The popish priest, who preaches salvation by works, the intercession of the Virgin, the lying delusion of purgatory, delivers not the Lord's message. The Unitarian minister, who talks of the virtues of humanity, who denies the Trinity, the atonement of the Redeemer, the converting and sanctifying operations of the Holy Spirit, he, too, certainly does not deliver the Lord's message. And to come nearer to ourselves, he who professes to be a Lutheran minister, and who yet denies the doctrine of Justification by Faith only, who does not preach the regenerating power of the Holy Sacrament of Baptism, and the real presence of Christ's body and blood in the Lord's Supper, he, likewise, whatever may be his profession to the contrary, does not deliver the Lord's message.

What is the Lord's message? The voice said: "Cry," and the faithful messenger said: "What shall I cry?" "All flesh is grass. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth, but the Word of our God shall stand forever." "The prophet that hath a dream, let him tell a dream; and he that hath my Word, let him speak my Word faithfully."

"Preach the Word," was St. Paul's advice to Timothy. "Preach the Word"; "be instant" with that word "in season and out of season"; in the pulpit and out of the pulpit; in the schoolroom and on the platform; in the sick chamber and in the abodes of health; in the highways and in the byways. Only one-half of a minister's duty is done when the services of the sanctuary are over, and the marriages, funerals, and baptisms are performed. "The minister," one has remarked, "is a physician. He has a vast field before him. He has to study a variety of constitutions. He has to furnish himself with the knowledge of the whole system of remedies. He is to be a man of skill and expediency. If one thing fails, he must know how to apply another. He must be able to speak a word in season, to deliver the Lord's message to the saint and to the sinner, to the heavy-laden and to the presumptuous, to the contrite and to the inquirer,—to all, in short, that come." "For the priest's lips," says Malachi, "should keep knowledge, and they should seek the Law at his mouth." For this reason, he will unceasingly be on the lookout for tidings. He will not, indeed, originate new things. He will not speak anything which comes into his own head, but he will diligently study what the Word of the Lord says, and that will he, no matter who may be present in the congregation, boldly and unreservedly deliver. He will deliver the whole counsel of God. He will be zealous for the truth, and neither teach nor tolerate any manner or degree of error; but, above all, he will preach, as the most important part of his message, Christ Jesus. Other preaching may inform the head and please the ear, but it is the setting forth of Christ in all His willingness to pardon, Christ in all His mightiness to save, which alone can storm the outworks and force the citadel of the heart. It is not the flowery language and the rounded period, embellished with sparkling figures and brilliant metaphors, that will of itself win souls to the Lord. No, it is the discriminating, earnest, and affectionate preaching of Christ, whether in the polished language of the scholar or in the ruder accents of a less accomplished zeal,—it is this preaching alone which is worthy of the name. The minister of Christ has a much more important matter in hand than some imagine. As a faithful messenger, he is to deliver, not information about political issues, lectures on morals, literature, and topics of the day, but he is to give hearers a full exhibition of Christ as He is revealed in the Bible and ought to be imprinted on every human heart,—the sinner's Hope, the sinner's Refuge, the sinner's Surety and Substitute, the sinner's High Priest and Advocate, the sinner's All and in all.

This, dear members and hearers, is the message. And oh, what a blessing such a message is! How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth these good tidings; that publisheth peace; that bringeth these good tidings of good; that publisheth salvation. As refreshing rain upon the dry, parched soil, so is such a faithful message to them that hear him.

And this is the character which he who now addresses you is anxious to sustain, as minister of this congregation. For —— years have I preached this message of redemption among you. Most graciously have you received it at my lips, which leads me to thank God and take courage, asking for the Spirit's influence to make that message effectual. This, then, is the duty of Christ's ministers.

What, to come to the next consideration, is the duty of Christ's people?

If it is the duty of Christ's ministers to declare His message, it is equally the duty of Christ's people to receive that message. Now, it is well to note that, according to God's Word, our message is twofold. It is Law, and it is Gospel. Both we are to proclaim,—the Law, which demands, threatens, and condemns in its sharpness and terror, and shows us our sin and the wrath of God; and the Gospel, which shows us our Savior and the grace of God, and offers forgiveness, life, and salvation in its sweetness and comfort. Can you bear to be thus slain by the Law? Can you bear to speak with the lesson of this Sunday—the ministry of John the Baptist, the man girt about with a leathern girdle, expressing himself in the language of bold reproof, and declaring that "even now the ax is laid unto the root of the trees," and that "every tree which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire"? Can you bear to be told that, virtuous as many of you may be, you must seek salvation as sinners? Can you bear to be told that, if any man will be Christ's disciple, he must deny himself daily, and take up his cross, and follow his Lord wherever He may lead? Can you bear to have it forced upon you: "Be not conformed to this world"?

These things belong to the message, and we would not be ministers of the Gospel of Christ without telling you them. And remember, too, that you must receive them not with your ears only, but with your hearts. Believe me, it is not enough to come hither and to attend these messages, and as you quit the sanctuary to say you are pleased with the sermons you hear. Highly as we, that are ministers, value your kind regard and affectionate esteem, we miss our object if that is all we accomplish. No, beloved, we seek not your praise, but you. We want your eye to pass on from the servant to his Master, from the messenger to Him that sent Him. Like John, we are but His voice, the voice of one that crieth amid this wilderness and waste. He that cometh is Christ. We are but the tube, or trumpet, through which He speaks. Forget thus the messenger, shut your eyes upon the preacher, and think of the Savior. Hear His voice, let that go to your heart.

One more duty,—assist the messenger. Various are the means and channels in which that may be done. We have in our midst a willing band of Sunday-school teachers; what are they doing but helping to bring the message to the hearts of our youth? We have those who are not ashamed or afraid to invite others to come and hear the message spoken in public, those who encourage some to go and hear it in private, in catechetical instruction. Then, too, are our church societies laboring usefully in the Lord. Many are the means and ways in which these messengers may be assisted in the performance of their duty, and to so assist in the duty of all. My dear members, may God continue to bless, as He has visibly and bountifully blessed, these past years, His message and His messengers and those that hear it! The Lord hear and answer this our petition for our Great Redeemer's sake! Amen.

FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT.

The Dayspring from on high hath visited us.—Luke 1, 78.

In directing our attention to this text, we would regard, I. by whom the words were spoken, and II. of whom they were spoken. At the time of our Savior's birth the spiritual conditions in the land of Israel were distressingly sad; religious life had become very degenerate and corrupt; all manner of sects, like the Pharisees and Sadducees, with their stiff and ossified formalism, ceremonialism, materialism, had caused a dark eclipse to come over the once living faith of God's chosen people. Things were droughty and dead. But no period is ever so desperate, the Church of God never so forlorn and miserable as not to have in it some true children of faith, yea, when things are at the worst, divine Goodness is sure to interfere to bring about a change for the better; and so it was in these desolate days of Judaism. Residing in the hill country of Judea was an aged couple; they had lived long together without being blessed with offspring. This, with the Jews, was not only a defect in matrimonial happiness, but a positive reproach. The name of this pair was Zacharias and Elizabeth. Zacharias was a priest, and Elizabeth was of the daughters of Aaron, and the testimony given of their character in Holy Scripture is that they were both righteous before God, walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless—a devout and honorable pair. One day, so runs the story in the beginning verses of the Gospel of St. Luke, while he was engaged in his ministry, offering incense in the temple, there appeared unto Zacharias at the right-hand side of the altar an angel of God, and told him that his prayers were answered and that he would receive a son, whom he should call John. Zacharias startled at the heavenly apparition, and quite forgetful of the birth of an Isaac and Samson and Samuel, and that what happened of old might again happen, since nothing is impossible with God, he skeptically asked for a sign as the proof of the angel's message, whereupon the angel replied: "I am Gabriel, that stand in the presence of God, and am sent to speak unto thee and show thee these glad tidings. And, behold, thou shalt be dumb, and not able to speak, until the day that these things shall be performed, because thou believest not my words, which shall be fulfilled in their season." When Zacharias came out of the temple to the multitude of worshipers that had been impatiently waiting for his return, he beckoned to the people with his hand, and they perceived that he had seen a vision.

Nine months had elapsed after that miraculous visitation and annunciation of the angel, when the details in the paragraph immediately preceding our text came to pass. Elizabeth, having received the fulfillment of the heavenly message, and a company of her neighbors and relatives having gathered for the circumcision of the child, a question of friendly contention arose over the name, the most of them being in favor of calling him after the name of his father, Zacharias. Zacharias, being consulted and asking for a slate whereupon to write his opinion, wrote the name John. By this writing he showed that he consented in the name of the child according to the angel's direction, and it says: "His mouth was immediately opened and his tongue loosed, and he spake and praised God in a song of blessing and joy." This song of Zacharias, which is called the "Benedictus," because it begins with the word "Benedictus" or Blessed, is one of the treasured songs of the Church.

Significant—as we read that song it is that his own circumstances largely are overlooked or disregarded. Two grand and miraculous events had just happened to him, the birth of a son and the recovery of speech. These, it may be supposed, would have primarily employed his mind and called forth his praise and adoration to God; but whilst he does speak a few words of exultation over his son, a great, more transporting, and august theme fills his breast; he thinks in pious rapture of the prophecies that have gone before, the promises of God by the mouth of His inspired servants, that He would send a mighty Savior to deliver His people. Now that his own son, who was to be the forerunner of the Lord and messenger, was born, he sees the incarnation of this almighty Deliverer begun; under prophetic inspiration he proclaims what first happened six months after: "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel; for He hath visited and redeemed His people," and none among us are less interested in this propitious event than Zacharias was. We have before us the same prophecies that Zacharias had; we have the same need of this Savior, and we desire the same blessings from Him which he did. Why, then, should it not be the rapture of our hearts, the topic of our triumphant song, as it was of his? With pious joy let us hail the glorious festival that shall be upon us in a few days, and in this may our reflection on our text aid us.

"The Dayspring from on high hath visited us." It is interesting to note how to one whose heart is wrapped up in Christ every object becomes a preacher, a memorial. That beautiful star, last in the train of night and first in the forehead of morning, sings of Him who is the bright Morning Star. That orb in the skies, shedding the benignant rays over the earth, tells of Him who is the Sun of Righteousness with healing in His wings. The bread which I eat becomes to me a symbol of Him who is the Bread of Life; the water which I drink reminds me of the living water whereof who drinks shall never thirst again. In brief, Christ is seen in everything, in every object of external nature, and so with the figure employed by Zacharias in these words: "the Dayspring," or, as we would say—the dawn of the morning. Beautiful is dawn. The ancient poets have represented it as a lovely maiden rising from the waters of the East (casting aside the gloomy veil of night), and hastening forward on the foremost rays of light, to open the gates of day, whilst her rosy fingers scatter abroad the drops of sparkling dew. Zacharias employs the same illustration only to a subject more noble. He sees Messiah near at hand, breaking on the world just like the approach of dawn. Yes, the vision of His coming is so clear that he says not, "The Dayspring shall visit us," but, "The Dayspring hath visited us." Let us spend a few moments in considering, not every, but a few features that connect with this description of our Lord as the "Dayspring from on high." And here, to begin with, we have a significant thought. "The Dayspring from on high" suggests His origin. The day-dawn comes from the heaven; it is not of man's ordering and making, but of God's; it bears the imprint of the Creator's hand, and for this reason the Bible styles Him "the Father of lights," and says: "Every good and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights." So with this Dayspring, Christ,—He is from on high. His origin and His coming are divine. We sing:

True Son of the Father, He comes from the skies,
To be born of a virgin He does not despise.

This earth is not His home, as it says: "The Dayspring from on high hath visited us." He came from elsewhere and He departed again elsewhere. From eternity He lay in the bosom of the Father, and when the fullness of time was come, He descended upon this earth and tabernacled among us thirty and three years, and then returned to the glory whence He came forth. It was, indeed, a transcendent sojourn, a visit that spells everything, that connects with salvation and blessedness. Yes, it was only a visit; He was from on high. To use the words of the Nicene Creed: Christ is true God, begotten of the Father from eternity, God of God, Light of Light (note that expression as in accordance with the figure in the text), very God of very God, begotten, not made; being of one substance with the Father, who for us men and for our salvation, came down from heaven and was incarnate by the Holy Ghost of the Virgin Mary, and was made man. Verily, He was the Dayspring from on high.

Again, observe the manner of His coming,—how like the day-dawn. What so gentle as the light of morning, rising mutely in the brightening east and pouring the light so softly that never a leaf is stirred; noiselessly, peacefully does it make its approach. So when the Savior was born, He came into the world silently and unobtrusively. All heaven was moved and followed Him down to the threshold of earth; but few on earth were aware of it. One solitary star pointed to the humble birthplace, and the hymn that sang of it was heard only at night by a few watching shepherds, and His whole life partook of the same character. For which reason we sing in one of our favorite hymns:

As His coming was in peace,
Noiseless, full of gentleness,
Let the same mind be in me
That was ever found in Thee.

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.

Which is it? God, my beloved hearers, is always good. His very name, God, which means good, bespeaks that. Continually is He bestowing gifts and favors upon us. "His constant mercies," declares the psalmist, "are new to us every morning." What is there which we possess that He has not given us?—clothing and shoes, meat and drink, house and home, wife and children, fields, cattle, and all my goods. But there is one gift that excels and outstrips them all.

Our children, in the course of the year, are being constantly provided with all that they need to support their bodies and lives, articles of food and dress and mind, and yet the best donations we afford them, those which cause their youthful hearts to skip as the lambs, are invariably given in the days of Christmas festivity. So with the beneficent Parent on high,—always good and gracious, yet His foremost and most excellent gift He bestows at this time. And which is it? Yonder, in Bethlehem's manger, it lies. Insignificant enough as you gaze upon it with outward eyes: how tiny, unpretentious, judged by the standard of men; what lowly quarters, what unfavorable circumstances, what socially unassuming people; that woman watching over the Child, those shepherds hastening thither from their humble toil,—certainly nothing there to impress one. And this is Heaven's foremost and precious gift, the gift of all gifts. Is that the best that God can give us? Yes.

For various reasons. In determining the value of earthly donations, different considerations weigh and prevail. For once, it is the sentiment that prompted that gift; it frequently is not so much the mercantile value of the gift as it is the considerations, the spirit, the sentiment, and affection that go along with it; and there, after all, rests its real power and beauty. Regard God's Christmas gift. The Apostle calls it "unspeakable"; he declares that it towers in its value and majesty beyond the reach of language and beyond the power of human expression. 'Tis truly so. What sentiment prompted it? "God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son." There we have the motive, His love. And why did He love man? Because he was so lovable? Nay, man had rebelled against Him, had raised himself up in disobedience against Him and His holy commandments and was at enmity with Him, and still God loved him, loved the child that had forsaken and sinned against Him, and so loved him that He spared not His dearest and His best, but delivered Him up for us all. Oh! the greatness of that charity, that love divine, all love excelling, love that passed all knowledge and understanding and expression too,—that supplied the Gift unspeakable, says the Apostle.

Again, when we are the recipients of gifts, we examine them, we give them careful scrutiny, we desire to know: What is that which we have received? Apply that to God's Christmas gift. What is it? He tells us: "Unto you is born this day a Savior, which is Christ, the Lord." Not a star, not a world, not any created thing, but Christ, the Lord.

Veiled in flesh the Godhead see,
Hail th' incarnate Deity.
Pleased as man with man to dwell,
Jesus, our Emmanuel.

O the mystery, the impenetrable mystery of the gift! As you sit down and meditate upon it, as you reflect and gaze upon that divine Child, reason is confounded, thought is pushed to confusion, faith stands in profound contemplation on the brink of this sea, too deep for human intelligence to fathom, too broad for man's mind to encircle, and yet, let us not stagger at the wonderful fact. We are standing to-day, my beloved, in the presence of the greatest miracle of time. We behold here no ordinary child. It's Deity in humanity, Divinity in infancy. In this little body is bound up God's immensity, in this Babe's weakness is enclosed heaven's almightiness. This child resting at His mother's breast (who can grasp it?) is the Lord of glory, the worshipful Creator of the universe, God blest forevermore.

Such is the nature of the gift—"unspeakable," as the Apostle declares.

Again, we consider the purpose of the gift. There are every variety and quality of gifts bestowed at this season: ornamental ones, serving the purpose of decoration and embellishment, beautiful for the eye to behold; useful ones, administering to the necessity and the comforts of their recipients. How about God's Christmas gift? Ah! for human lips to speak out its value. Again we lisp, "Unspeakable." What illustrations might I employ? You lift up your eyes and encounter the bright rays of the sun; what would this world be without the light and warmth that comes from its radiant face? You feel the drops of rain falling in gentle showers; what would the soil be without these rivulets and streams that fructify its acres? Yet all such illustrations are too improper to express what this world would spiritually be without Christ. Said the angel: "Unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a Savior." In that word you have the key of Christmas and the purpose of God's Christmas gift. "A Savior"—what a chapter that opens before us! Back to the days of Paradise does it conduct us, when man was dwelling in innocence, fell and falling, carrying himself and all his posterity to universal and eternal destruction. Sin, that most terrible of all evils upon the soul, thorns and thistles upon the ground, misery and sickness and death upon the body, the whole creation groaning and travailing in pain,—this was the sorry consequence, and this is the sad, sad story as it is read in the history of every man's life and of the world at large. And whence was deliverance to come? From man? Helpless, powerless, hopeless creature, how could he cancel the curse that rested upon soul and body and ailing earth? A more powerful one held him at his mercy; and what could he do to pluck out the sting of death beneath whose dominion he had completely fallen? A more dismal condition could never exist. What man needed was a Savior, a Deliverer mightier than the forces that held him bound, and such a one God had promised man. Adam and Eve, leaving Paradise, were consoled by the prediction of the Seed of the Woman that should bruise the head of the serpent—the Savior, Abraham, Seth, Enoch, Noah, Isaac, and Jacob looked forward to that Deliverer and were sustained by the hope: Ah, that the Savior soon would come to break our bondage and lead us home! Succeeding saints and prophets took up the pleading strain, and sang and prophesied of His advent, and finally, when the fullness of time was come, He arrived; and what did He bring?

The supply of man's foremost and chief requisite—what is that? Wealth, affluence of estate? Support of body? Not so. This is not man's foremost need. Education of mind, culture of intellect? Neither that. What is it? Deliverance from sin, death, and the power of the devil, and the salvation of man's immortal soul; for what is a man profited though he should gain the whole world, and possess all treasures and mines of knowledge, and possess not and know not how to save his soul? Beloved, when you reflect what this world would be without this divine Christmas gift, then we might well ask, Would life be worth living without Him? It would, indeed, be a dark chapter, a barren and gloomy prison cell. And so, having regarded these various particulars, we almost instinctively give voice to the Apostle's declaration: "Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable gift." That brings us to the concluding part of our consideration.

A donation so transcendent calls for some corresponding attitude. What would we think of a child accepting its holiday gifts without showing appreciation, and speaking not a word of acknowledging thanks? Nothing is more rude than ingratitude. That spoils it all. Look at the interest the heavenly inhabitants took in that unspeakable gift. They came down with gracious messages concerning it. They were all present and sang their highest songs when the Savior was born. Their conduct was just such as we may expect from beings so pure, so intelligent, and yet it was not to them, nor for them. "Unto us a Child is born, unto us this Son is given." It is for us and for our salvation that the Lord of glory came and was made man. Here is a thought that ought to stir us to a higher pitch of emotion and gratitude. People have capacities to appreciate favors, to acknowledge good, to feel the worth of help when great and pressing need is upon them; why not over against this amazing goodness of God? Oh! that any human heart should be found weighted down by such leaden dullness that it should fail in its adoring thankfulness to God for His unspeakable gift. Far better such had never been born!

And thankfulness and rejoicing, if genuine, is never selfish. Observe our children at this time. When they have received their gifts, they do not selfishly hug them to themselves, place them in a corner, and strive to keep others from seeing them; they run about displaying what kindness has bestowed, shout and make commotion, nor feel happier than when others—their playmates and companions—come to share in their merriment. It is not different with God's Christmas gift; it is designed to be the occasion of universal joy. "I bring you glad tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people." "God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son."

A certain ancient writer remarks: "Were some explorer to discover the real elixir of life by which life and health and youth might be made perpetual, with what shouts of triumph and songs of joy would the discovery be heralded forth!" Friend would rush to bear the glad tidings to friend, over hill and mountain; across valley and plain would the joyful tidings roll, until there were no solitary inhabitant, be his dwelling ever so remote or concealed, but would have found it out. Beloved, here is the true elixir of life, in Bethlehem's manger; there is the fountain of perpetual health and youth. Let the glorious truth, then, receive universal proclamation; let the tawny African in his dark jungle, the Eskimo in his icy, squalid hut, the dweller in the most distant isle, and the man, woman, and child that lives with you and next to you,—let one and all hear the glad news that God's unspeakable gift has come to earth. Yes, let this blessed truth spread till every sinful and sorrowing brother may rejoice with us, and that from earth and sky may echo forth in grateful refrain: "Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable Gift," now on these present Christmas festivals, and then when these earthly celebrations will have passed over into the celebration of heaven, we shall see and adore Him who was once a babe in Bethlehem, but now sitteth upon the throne, God blessed forevermore. Amen.

LAST SUNDAY IN THE YEAR.

We all do fade as a leaf.—Isaiah 64, 6.

There is perhaps no truth which is more generally admitted and which is more frequently referred to than that life is short and time is fleeting, that—"man born of a woman," as Job expresses it, "is of few days and full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower and is cut down." Every tolling knell that resounds its muffled voice from the church's spire, every painful sickness that casts us upon a weary and dreary couch, every change of season in nature's annual round and tearing off one leaf after the other from the calendar, until the present date, the 31st day of its last messenger, bids us discard the whole,—all these are just so many solemn and constant monitors reminding us of the brevity, the rapidity of time's flight. And yet, with all these numerous and unmistakable evidences of the transitoriness of all earthly things, how little of an abiding impression they produce! Who of us, in thoughtful reflection, does not admit the necessity of asking in this matter for divine instruction and of preparing ourselves for the time when time shall be no more, and when we shall be called upon to give account of how we have used our earthly days, and to leave this world and all its concerns? It is to this that I would invite your thoughts on this day which marks the concluding day of another chapter of life's calendar. May God's Holy Spirit teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts to wisdom, as I endeavor to explain and apply the words of our text.

Human life, man's natural existence, is most aptly represented by the figure before employed, the fading of a leaf. More than two thousand years ago did the inspired penman, the Prophet Isaiah, write these lines, and yet its truth is preached to us with unfailing regularity and solemnity in every recurring autumn. As we go out into the woods towards the close of each successive summer, we observe a gradual change in the appearance of the trees. We see the leaves, first one and then another, and then by degrees all of them alike, changing their green for a brown and yellow hue, at length, till, shriveling at the edges and loosening their hold to their native boughs, the wet and the cold and the wind cause them to fall to the ground with a sound so soft that it is almost silence and there, by the action of the elements, they soon decay and mingle with the earth, out of which they were first produced. Just so, my brethren, it is with ourselves. As soon as we begin to live, we begin to die. "Our hearts like muffled drums are beating funeral marches to the grave." If we succeed in adhering to the tree of life during the spring and summer of man's allotted years, autumn and winter of old age will certainly overtake us, and we shall sink away as surely and as silently as the descending leaves in fall, our spirits returning to God, who gave them, and our bodies mingling with the dust from which they were taken. We look over the annals of the world,—where are those mighty conquerors, a Hannibal, a Cæsar, an Alexander, a Napoleon, who once made whole nations tremble and kingdoms fall? Where are those brilliant statesmen, a Bismarck, a Webster, a Calhoun, and a Clay, upon whose lips admiring senates hung with wonder and delight? Where are the poets, the historians, the warriors, the divines, who, each in his day and generation, were the theme of general conversation, and were lauded with the tribute of a nation's praise? "Like the baseless fabric of a vision,"—gone. It is related of Xerxes, the powerful King of Persia, that when about to cross from Asia over to conquer Greece, he ordered a review to be made of all his forces on the shores of the Hellespont. A magnificent throne was erected upon a lofty peak. Seated on this pinnacle of gold, he gazed upon the unnumbered millions below him on ship and shore. No sight could have been more dazzling or more august. The hillsides were white with tents, the sea with ships. Gay banners floating in the sun, glittering with gold and silver, weakened the eye by their brightness and beauty; whatever unbounded wealth and intense love of display could produce or suggest was there, and in the midst of such transcendent glory and deepest homage, where multitudinous nobles were urging to kiss the hem of his garment and worshiped him as a god, the great king, Xerxes, wept. Amazed at such an act, expressive of feelings so contrary to those in which they were indulging, they reverently inquired the cause of his tears. "Alas," said he, "of all this vast multitude not one will be left upon the earth a hundred years hence." That was said more than two thousand years ago. How many generations have followed that, over which he wept and uttered this sad truth! We occupy their places now for a few days, and then we shall lie beside them. Of the congregation that is looking up into my face this morning, twenty, thirty, fifty years, where shall it be? The church bell will be rung out, I hope, from its steeple, but it shall be rung by other hands, and for other worshipers. This pulpit will be filled by another preacher and the pews by other listeners. As you would pass in your way home from its door, in your family and social circles, how you would miss the old and once familiar forms, yea, perhaps our very homes will be occupied by strangers. As the prophet says: "We all do fade as a leaf."

Lest our subject should be rendered useless by being too general, I will proceed, without further delay, to apply our text and this by addressing the various classes of persons among you, so that all, by the baptism of the Holy Ghost, may derive some spiritual benefit. That our text refers not to one class, but to every, is evident from the word "all,"—"We all do fade as a leaf." It applies itself, then, first to the young. Not only in autumn and winter, but even in the spring and early months of the year, leaves are seen to fall. And similarly, as the inscriptions upon the many tombstones in our last resting-places will testify, so many of the human family disappear in infancy and youth. It is a mournful sight to see them thus carried off in the vigor and tenderness of opening bloom, but it's one that ought to convey solemn teaching to those of youthful years. And what teaching? Wise King Solomon has expressed it in these words: "Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth." And why? Because it is the most favorable time, the most God-honoring time, the most profitable. At no other time is the soul so capable of deep and abiding impressions, are the affections more easily touched and moved, are we more accessible to the influences of emotions and truth. It is preeminently the choosing time, the valley of decision, in which at almost every step we do or leave undone something which has its effect, for good or ill, upon one's future habits and character and eternity; and you can only be prepared to determine matters that call for decision when you have made the great decision; you can choose and act safely and wisely in all the other departments of life, the social, the intellectual, the moral, only when you have taken a decisive stand upon the subject of religion. Hence, our Savior urgently entreats young people: "Seek ye first," first in point of importance and first in point of years, "the kingdom of heaven." Ah, my young members, if the sun does not dispel the mists pretty early in the morning, you may look with reasonable certainty for a foggy day, and so if the Sun of Righteousness, Christ Jesus, does not early in the day of your lives dispel the mists of unbelief and sin, the chances are that it will be more or less gloomy obstruction the rest of your lives. You will never be such Christians as you would have been; there will not be the development of character as if you had started at the right time, and there will always be a feeling of regret in your heart. Note, then, that this is the time to begin to serve God; now is the time to put the yoke of Christ upon your necks and to break yourselves in for lives of usefulness. And what is more God-honoring? Religion is always an ornament, it decorates the silvery locks and the wrinkled brow, but it looks exquisitely attractive and suitable when worn by youth. God accepts the sinner at all times, even when he comes with tottering footsteps and with stooped back; but is it right to do service to another and make Him suspend His claim as your rightful Lord to satisfy the world and the flesh, His degrading rivals, to sow wild oats in the springtime of your years and send Him forth to gather among the stubbles the gleanings of life, after the enemy has secured the harvest? Nay, to Him belong the first-born of your days, the first-fruits of your season, the price of your love and devotion,—give them. You will never regret it. Incalculable are the benefits of early piety, beneficial for body and business, for character and connections, for mind and morals, for after-life and life after death; for, as our text inculcates, your earthly existence hangs but on a slender, frail, and feeble fiber. Do you know of none in your circle of acquaintances swept low by the grim reaper whom we call death? And what assurance have you, my youthful hearers, that you may not be among his victims in the succeeding year? Glory not, then, in your health and strength. Pride yourself not on anything which is so feeble and frail, but seek those solid blessings which are to be found in Christ Jesus, and make true preparation against the time when you shall go hence and be no more. "Remember thy Creator," thy Redeemer, thy Sanctifier, "in the days of thy youth."

Again, the text addresses itself to the middle-aged. Scarcely a summer passes over our heads but some tempests, lightning, hail, rain, and thunder, rage in the sky, and these commotions of the elements drive myriads of leaves, although then firmly grown and filled with sap, from their branches to the ground, and there, like those that fall later, they fade away. It is so with man. In the midst of all his hustling industry and matured vigor, when, as Job says, his bones are moistened with marrow, he is liable to be carried off by various diseases and casualties. Absalom died before his father. The list of orphans in the Bible is not small, and among us those attired in sable garments, because of those whose sun has gone down at noon, are not few. A tender leaf, which the first strong wind, the first descending shower loosens in its hold,—that is man in the strength of his days. And what does that teach those of maturer years? That they presume not on their sturdiness, and that they forget not, amidst the distractions of all manner of connection for what life has been given, and correspondingly rightly improve it. Life has been given us for a high and noble purpose; it is not only a time of preparation and of probation for the world to come, it is a time of activity, of usefulness in the service of God and fellow-man, and "he most lives who thinks the most, feels the noblest, acts the best." There are those who live a mere animal life, whose sublimest principle and purpose is embodied in the motto: "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we shall be dead." As for God, heaven, and eternity, there is none. There are those who live a mere worldly life; gaining a livelihood and property, acquiring a social standing and a position, perhaps a ribbon or a medal,—that's their life's chief object and design. There are those who lead bad lives, diabolical lives, making society miserable and families wretched; and there are those who lead good lives, morally and socially, providing things honestly in the sight of all men. But there is one class that, according to Scripture, lives a right life, a life that will bear the sight of the Judge eternal and receive His heavenly plaudit: "Well done, thou good and faithful servant," and that is the man and the woman who lives a Christian life, a life in Christ Jesus, who, while believing in Him as their only Lord and Savior, are seeking to imitate His precepts; who live to His glory, with the furtherance of His kingdom constantly in mind; who make everything that they undertake and do conducive to the praise and honor of their God; who delight to render their time, talents, and means in such a service. Any other kind of a life but that is a life of God's grace neglected, of moments wasted in selfishness, in indolence, in sensuality often, in wickedness, and it fails of the purpose for which time has been given. Let us be careful, then, how we employ it; never live a week in vain; having something at the close of it for the reviewing eye to fix upon; something for God, for your fellow-creatures, for yourself. Live for Christ, and thus best live while you live, and be best prepared when you are called upon to die, for as you live, thus will you die, and thus will you be judged.

There remains, however, one more class to which our text refers with great propriety, and that is the aged.

If the young and middle-aged may fall, the old must; there is no remedy or human skill, or physician's antidote against the wrinkled brow, the failing memory, and the stiffening of the joints. "The days of our years," says the Psalmist, "are threescore years and ten, and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labor and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away." How soon this may take place, who can declare? What attitude, then, becomes those who have upon them declining years? I know no better answer than to gaze upon that patriarchal couple in to-day's Gospel, Simeon and Anna; what a beautiful picture of declining life as it is calmed and brightened by the comforts of religion and the hope of nearing heaven. How impressive to see them meet in the temple of God, and taking upon their arms the blessed object of their faith and prayer for all those long rolling years, speaking of Him, as it says, unto all them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem, finally singing their "Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation." "The hoary head is a crown of glory," says Solomon, "if it be found in the way of righteousness." Let the aged saints, then, among us use their advancing years to speak, as years' and hearts' experience alone can speak, of Him who is their Salvation and Consolation; let them, by the respect due them, cause us to more greatly respect Him whom they have learned to know, and by their lives be an example to the younger generations how to live.

Having, then, regarded our text: "We all do fade as a leaf," let us have learned, as these years pass away, how to receive the crown, incorruptible, and undefiled, and which passeth not away. Amen.

NEW YEAR'S DAY.

Our Father which art in heaven.—Matt. 6, 9.

Dr. Luther, after his inimitable fashion, once remarked: "The Lord's Prayer is the greatest martyr upon earth. It is a pity above all pity that such a prayer by such a Master should be so terribly abused in all the earth. Many pray the Lord's Prayer a thousand times a year, and though they prayed it a thousand years, yet have they not properly prayed one letter thereof."

It is a sweeping and striking assertion. The truth of his remarks, however, who would wish to contest? Take, in evidence, the words of the text. The opening words of that divine prayer taught by the Lord Himself are indeed familiar words,—no service but we recite them, no day but a Christian ought to recite them; yet, have we ever regarded the deep significance that is contained, the inspiration that is hidden, in them? A little reflection will prove how appropriate they are for this day, the beginning of a new year in civil life.

Our Father,—that expresses, I. trust in God, II. obedience in duty, III. submission in affliction. All these we need for our encouragement and spiritual profit to-day.

What sacred associations cluster around the word "father"! The thought of him, if he was a father indeed, was inwoven into all our youthful plans and early ambitions. We knew no worldly care when we dwelt beneath his sheltering roof; as we grew in years, we increased also in confidence in him. He was our adviser in doubt, our protector in danger, our supporter in perplexity. A true father is the best earthly friend while he is alive, and after he is gone, there gathers around his memory a halo of tender remembrance. All that is generous, manly, noble, and wise is to a loving son treasured up in the word "father." But the earthly significance, the human fatherhood, does not exhaust the meaning of this blessed name; it is but a mere pattern and shadow of that relationship which God sustains to His people. He is a "Father"; we, then, are His children by nature and adoption, by creation and redemption, and, as children, we may go to Him, and with all confidence and boldness ask Him as dear children ask their dear father. And such confidence, such trustful looking up in faith and reliance to Him as our Father, is a becoming attitude to-day. We stand upon the shores of another year, as it lifts itself, veiled in mist, from the great ocean of the future. Futurity means uncertainty, and uncertainty suggests anxiety. Say not that it is not so. As God created man, he is forecasting in his thoughts. It is as easy and natural for us to have regard to what is before us as it is for the waters of the Mississippi to flow towards the Gulf. Nor does God forbid it. Says wise King Solomon: "A wise man deviseth his way." He forms his plans, he frames his resolutions, he has his ambitions, his object in life that he wishes to attain. It is not a sign of sanity or of Christianity to walk into the future blindfolded, irresolutely, improvidently. The business man who at this time looks over his stock and ledger and strikes a balance of profit and loss, so as to make prudent arrangement for the business of the incoming year, the man of family who gazes upon the members seated about his table, and, considering demands and expenditures, weighs his income and ability to make ends meet, or whatever situation you may be in, or relation you may sustain, an intelligent, provident, weighing, considering, looking into the future is legitimate, wise, proper. But that is one thing; another thing, and not an uncommon thing, rather too prevalent, is to look into the future with fear, trembling of heart, and anxiety of mind. "Oh, how shall we ever get through; it's been none too rosy in the past, income scant, debts, some yet to pay, children growing up, health not to boast of,"—what a dreadful nightmare these considerations are to many people at the start of a new year; how it crushes out all good cheer, happiness, the very thing men are wishing each other!

'Tis foolish, 'tis needless, and godless! A man bending and staggering along the road under the weight of a heavy load met a passing wagon; he was invited to get in. He did so, but he still kept the load on his back. Foolish man! Yet that's the common attitude. God's chariot drives up to us this morning, overtaking us on life's way. "Get in, traveler, I will bear thee along," is the invitation. "Cast all your cares upon me. I will care for you." "Thank you, kind Lord, but I prefer to bear the load myself." There is a Being that has brought us into this world,—Father, we call Him. He is a resourceful Father, having all forces and agencies of sky, land, and sea, all the operations of men, angels, and beasts at His command; He is a loving Father; He has pleasure in the children after His heart. Silly child, you say, that will start to cry and make a great ado because it has conceived the notion that its wealthy father cannot feed and clothe it any longer. Is it not just as incongruous, my dear Christian, for you to perplex yourself with thoughts of anguish that God cannot provide for you any more? "He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him freely give us all things?" He should neglect His loving providence, leave and forsake thee this year? O ye of little faith!

In one of the books handed to our children at Christmas time is the history of a familiar and beautiful German hymn. Reduced by financial straits to sell his only means of support, his violin, a poor musician took it to the pawnshop of a Jew. As he gave it up, he looked lovingly at it, and tearfully asked the Jew if he might play one more tune upon it. "You don't know," he said, "how hard it is to part with it. For ten years it has been my companion; if I had nothing else, I had it. Of all the sad hearts that have left your door, there has been none so sad as mine." Whereupon, pausing for a moment, he seized the instrument and commenced a tune so exquisitely soft that even the Jew listened, in spite of himself. Then, laying aside the instrument, he said, "As God will," and rushed from the shop, only to be stopped at the door by a stranger, who, having listened, said to him, "Could you tell me where I could obtain a copy of that song? I would willingly give a florin for it." "I will give it to you without the florin." The stranger happened to be the Swedish ambassador, and when he heard the poor man's story, his troubles ended then and there. Redeeming the instrument, he called his landlady and his friends, and sang, to his own accompaniment, his own sweet hymn, No. 350 in our hymn-book, of which this is the first stanza:

Leave God to order all thy ways,
And hope in Him, whate'er betide,
Thou'lt find Him, in the evil days,
Thine all-sufficient strength and guide.
Who trusts in God's unchanging love
Builds on a rock that naught can move.

This is the first reflection that lies in these introductory words, "Our Father." It expresses trustful looking up to Him at the beginning of the year. And, again, it supplies obedience in duty. It is a part of the father's relation to direct and control, as well as provide, for his children. He has a rightful authority over his household, the right to tell them what to do and how to do. None other with our heavenly Father.

The new year means new activities, new problems, new duties. With the morrow the tradesman, the mechanic, and the clerk will return to the work of his calling, the student to his books, and the housewife will be as busy as ever before. The great machinery of secular life will all clatter and hum in all its complexity and parts. And in the church, there will not, as there dare not be, a standstill. Much still remains to be done. How shall we face it? In our own strength? "With might of ours can naught be done, soon were our loss effected." After our own plans, doing things to suit our own selves? Is that the way it is in a well-regulated household? There is one whose law obtains, whose word determines, whose wish regulates it all. So ought it be with our life's duties. No matter what may be the occupation of your head and of your hands, whether you be a physician ministering to the alleviation of human ills, or a carpenter constructing the earthly home for man to dwell therein, our blessed Lord was both, physician and carpenter. Whether life's work finds you busy with the pen, like Matthew, the publican, sitting at the receipt of custom, or, like Martha, cumbered and concerned about many things, one reigning principle ought to be governing it all, as it governed the life of Him who was our example in all things, this: "My work is to do the will of Him that sent me."

Begin your work with Him, consecrate it to Him, conduct it with Him. Serve Him in it. There are two ways of doing everything—with God and without God. You may go to your work on Monday morning with God or without God; you may discharge its thousand and one different details with God or without God; your fellow-workman and companions may not know the difference, and yet, my dear hearer, it makes all the difference in the world, and a difference even for the world to come, whether you do your work with a glance of the eye upward and a spirit that says, "Our Father." Work without God is drudgery, duty cold and stern; it lacks inspiration, warmth, joyful energy. It is done because it must. It makes the worker a slave. That is not the way God would have us perform it, and it is not the work—neither in family, nor shop, nor church, that brings grand results. Whenever you feel your service becoming irksome or your duties degenerating, done with little conscientiousness and still less joy, then speak, "Our Father"; and when you saunter forth knowing that you are going to perform your Father's business, then the direst and most uninteresting things of daily life will acquire a new importance in your eyes, and will be done with a spring of elasticity and gladsomeness. Let me ask you to try this heavenly specific, and you will find that bending over your toil, with these thoughts, it will be lit up with radiance and significance hitherto inexperienced and duty will be merged into delight. This is the second consideration, when we can truly and intelligently say, "Our Father," life's work becomes transfigured with a new meaning and joy. In such a spirit go hence to this year's employments. Do them with God.

One other phase of human experience remains to be touched upon at this time. The Lord Himself hath said by the mouth of Solomon: "He that spareth the rod hateth the child," and He is too wise a Father to think of training His children without discipline. It is by sending them trials that He leads them to bethink themselves and to return when they have been backsliding, develops them in character, and prepares them for the discharge of arduous and important duties. Whatever we may regard this method of dealing with us, this is His method, and it will be no different with the incoming year. What shape that trial will take, this none can say in advance; it may bring sickness to ourselves or to our near and dear ones; pain of body, feverish tossing, restless nights, weary days; it may bring reverses in fortune; the position we thought so secure may pass into the hands of another; our income may decrease, trade languish, accidents and expenses multiply; it may be that the grim visitor will invade our homes, a casket, little or large, be placed into our rooms to remind us that in the midst of life we are in death. God alone, who knows the future, knows. And when these ordeals occur, it is well to keep before us a few things.

In the first place, we must recognize that, however strange and unwelcome these experiences are, 'tis He who sends them, and gives them just because He deals with us as His children. Discipline is a privilege that a father reserves for His own children. One does not get himself to correct the faults of all the young people in the neighborhood. You direct your efforts along that line to your own, and only because of your affectionate interest in them do you visit them with correction. Even so it is with God, and when we are suffering from His hands, instead of thinking that He has forgotten us, we ought to see in the chastisement a new evidence of His continued regard for us. The trials sent us, my dear hearers, are the tokens of a heavenly Father's affection, and happy art thou if in life's salutary discipline you have learned to look up and say, "Thy will be done."

Then, knowing from whom it proceeds—to mention the second consideration,—you will be wonderfully sustained. To illustrate, a story from my holiday reading: A little girl sent on an errand had to cross a wide but shallow stream, but there were firm and tried stepping-stones all the way over. "Oh! I'm afraid," said the child to a lady who was passing. "Why are you afraid, there are stones all the way over. See how easily I can cross it." Very timidly the little girl began to cross. "Just one step at a time is all you have to take," said the kind guide. So one step followed another—the first few were the hardest to take,—and soon she was safe on the other shore, smiling at her fears. "It is not so hard after all," she remarked, "just one step at a time brought us over." Beloved, when troubles come,—they are sure to, in this year also,—do not look so much at the waters before you, but at the stepping-stones the Father has placed for your feet. Here is a strong, firm stepping-stone that has often sustained me: "As thy days, so shall thy strength be." Here is another: "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want." Have a few such stepping-stones, select one in particular for this year. This, perhaps, will do, small, but weighty, "Our Father." Amen.

EPIPHANY SUNDAY.

I am the Light of the world.—John 8, 12.

Underneath Rome, the ancient capital of the world, and extending for miles and miles between the River Tiber and the Mediterranean Sea, are those mysterious passages called the catacombs. How far they go, whither they lead, at what exact point they terminate, no living man can tell. From the examinations of the learned who have explored them for some little distance, at some few points, we know that they are long and narrow quarries in the rock; underground roads mined out of the soft volcanic tufa, or stone, on both sides of which the early Christians, who would not burn, but insisted on burying their dead, would deposit their departed, and where during these fierce persecutions they would also assemble for worship. These passages are but high enough to walk upright through them; they are so narrow in width that you can touch the sides on either hand, as you grope along, and they are unutterably silent and dark. If you strain your eye forward, you see nothing beyond the few feet which the feeble torch or flickering candle illumines; if you look up, the rock is there; if you gaze to the right or to the left, you see the shallow niches, like shelves, one over another, where are strewn the bones of the dead, crumbling into dust and ashes; and gazing behind you, you feel a choking sensation at the heart, that if your light should go out, or your guide should forsake you, you would never find your way back,—as it is a well-known fact that many too curious in their researches have disappeared. Such, then, are the catacombs, a subterranean home of death, a place of impenetrable darkness. And, my beloved, what better emblem could be found to illustrate what this world is like, without the Gospel of Jesus Christ, than the hopeless labyrinths of darkness underneath the City of Rome?

Take the time when our Savior pronounced these words of our text, or when, as Epiphany suggests to us, those wise men came from the East, following the star,—what darkness was spread over the earth! With the exception of the one people, numbering only a few millions at most, and these sunk away in general apostasy, aside from the little wax lights of the Jews, there was universal gloom. Around them, to the farthest limit of the earth, including enlightened and refined Greece and Rome, the whole world of man lay in heathenism and idolatry, feeling after God, but knowing Him not, worshiping and serving creatures rather than the ever-blessed Creator. Think of Egypt's adoration of bulls, rams, cats, bugs, birds, and crocodiles! Think of the Assyrian's worship, or of any of those people of antiquity, rendering to beasts or to heroes and the spirits of dead men, like the Chinese and Japanese and Hindoos of this day, the homage due unto the living God! Add to this the attendant miseries, shameless debaucheries, cruelties, revolting abominations, practiced all over in the name and belief of honoring God and meriting the favor of heaven, and it may well be said, the world was darkness, pitch black darkness. And it is so even to this present day where Christianity has not yet shed its redeeming light. It is so with every human soul; the darkness of ignorance, of sin, of misery is upon it. The man whose understanding has not yet been enlightened by the beams of spiritual truth is just like a tourist groping along, and stumbling among, the bones and dust of the catacombs. He knows not what he is living for, as little as the underground passenger knows whither he is going. Whenever misfortune and sorrow comes, there is none to turn to for consolation.

Whenever conscience is troubled and agitated with a sense of its guilt, and there are times when the spectral hand of conscience, like in the case of King Belshazzar, writes bitter things against them, there is no remedy or peace. When death comes, it is all gloom, spiritual night, a prison-house, a catacomb.

All our knowledge, sense, and sight
Lie in deepest darkness shrouded,
Till God's brightness breaks our night
By the beams of truth unclouded.

And that is the lesson of this season, which means manifestation, that is the message of Christ to the world of man and to each soul. He is the Light. As God at the beginning of the world, when it was a huge mass of confused matter, wrapped in unpenetrable darkness, spake the word: "Let there be light," and there was light, so, when humanity at the beginning of these —— years was spiritual darkness, the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us, and men saw His glory, the glory of the Only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.

Addressing ourselves to our text, let us I. trace some points of resemblance between Christ and light; II. note the conduct which becomes us toward this Light.

The purest and most untarnishable thing in this world is light. Snow is pure, so is ice, water, and air, but each of these will admit of defilement, may be marred and polluted. It is not so with light. Man's hand cannot soil it. No corruption can infest or cleave to it. Nothing can defile its rays or attach pollution to its beams. And such is Christ. All creatures have shown themselves liable to sin and moral taint, but Christ passed through the world of sin as a sunbeam through a house of filth and disease, and came forth as pure and blessed as He sprang from God Himself. He took on Him sin's form, that He might endure sin's due, but sin's stain He never knew. In Bethlehem's manger, He was the holy Child. He lived a human life, oppressed with all its cares and temptations, grew up among its corrupt children, suffered its coarseness, its rebuffs, and its villainies, but with all this He did no sin, neither was guile found in His mouth. He was the spotless Lamb of God, pure; for He was the Light.

Again, light is as bright as it is pure. Things are bright in proportion as they are full of light. The day is bright when no clouds shut out the sun. The scenery is bright when illumined by the greatest number of rays. The hope is bright when it is freest from gloomy forebodings and fullest of the light of promise. And such is Christ. He is brightness, "the brightness of the Father's glory," and His office is to dispense brightness. That is the brightest time in the soul when there is most of Christ in it. That is the brightest page on which most of Christ is found. That is the brightest sermon in which most of Christ is heard. That is the brightest life in which most of Christ is seen. That is the brightest world in which Christ is most fully received; and that heart, that home, that church is but confusion and darkness where Christ is not.

Light, likewise, is free. It comes without cost, and it comes everywhere. No poverty is so great as to debar from its blessing, nor is there an open crevice, a nook or corner in all this wide world into which it is unwilling to enter, or where it fails to throw its heavenlike smiles. The halls of the great and the huts of the humble does it gild alike, and that without money and without price. As related, it is free, and so is Christ. The command is: "Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature." There is no place nor spot where its beams are not to be diffused, no heart into which it does not struggle for entrance. To the poor as well as to the rich, to Jews as well as to Gentiles is Christ offered equally freely, and on the same terms of free grace to each and all willing to accept Him. He is the true Light, ready to lighten every man that cometh into the world.

Another quality that pertains to the nature of light is that it is revealing. Darkness obscures. Where it is not light, a pit may gape at our feet, a murderer may be waiting in our path, a dagger aimed at our heart; we do not see and know, our vision is held. It requires light to perceive these things. And so in the spiritual world, Christ is the great Revealer. By Him we come to know God and our true selves. By Him we learn who and where we are, what our needs are, and how to relieve them. One of the hardest things in the world is to make people believe that they are guilty and lost beings. The reason is, they are in the dark. They need the light to show them themselves. And that light is Christ. Only let a man examine himself in the light of Christ's life and teaching, and it will not be long until he sees that self of his to be a mere mass of guilt, and things appearing quite differently in this world of imperfection and sin.

And to mention the final feature, light is life-giving. Without light the world is dead. Where the sun rarely shines, or not at all, there is barrenness, dreariness, perpetual winter, desolation. It is the warming light of spring that starts the dormant germs, that swells the buds, and clothes the vineyards, the field, and the woods with vegetation, fragrance, and plenty. So with the spiritual Light. Where Christ is not, life is not, there is spiritual barrenness, winter upon the soul. But when His beams shine in upon the soul, the seeds of virtue put forth, the tree of faith lifts up its fragrant bloom, and the fruits and flowers of love and grace spring and bud.

Thus, by a few comparisons with the material, natural light, have we sought to explain in what sense Christ is called, or rather calls Himself, the Light.

Let us inquire how we ought to conduct ourselves toward Him. First of all, if you would enjoy the blessings of this Light, you must receive the Light; the outward illumination must be followed by a corresponding inward one. What good does the light do the man who, when its morning rays shine into his room, will pull down the shades and close the shutters and pull the cover of his couch over his head? It's only the worse for the man. The thing is to receive it, to throw open the shutters of your heart, and to let its radiant sunbeams burst into its every corner and crevice. That is what it is for, and we fail of its purpose and benefit if we fail to so treat it. What if the incoming rays do show us the dust that lies upon furniture and floor? Should we therefore dislike it, reject it, or should we cleanse the furniture and the floor? What if the spiritual Sun reveals to us our darling sins and ignorances? Should we therefore avoid it and dislike it? It is extremely sorry to see the attitude of the most of mankind, how they will cling like bats and owls to darkness who fly away to some dismal haunts, and there sit and blink whenever a ray of spiritual sunlight reaches them. Christ Himself said: "Men love darkness rather than light." Let it not be so to us. Let us accept and profess it, take its blessed rays into our souls.

And, again, let us reflect it. The Bible directs us not only to be radiant and luminous ourselves, but to give light and shining so as to enlighten others, just like the moon and the planets, who, borrowing their light from the sun, are directed to do service in their way and sphere. So, borrowing from the Sun of Righteousness, we must shine forth, each in his respective sphere. "Let your light so shine before men," says our Savior, "that they may see your good works." And be it understood this pertains to every Christian, to be a lamp and light-dispensing orb. Parents are called to a large share in this office. Young men and young women in the Sunday-school partake in the same commission. The officers to be installed this morning, every man, woman, and child in the church have a large and responsible share, and charged to let his or her light shine in carrying light to the souls of others. With this opening of the new year let us be reminded of our Christian duty. Having seen the Sun of Righteousness rising over the hilltops of Bethlehem, and rejoicing in its spiritual splendors, see that the benefits be of lasting impression. Ask yourselves, at the outset, where its Sundays will find you. And know they are the rays of brightening and illumination in sacred thoughts and improvements, the days in which the divine Word shines forth in its radiancy and the gracious Light of salvation flashes in its glory; then, how can you be children of light and yet forsake the assembling of yourselves together where the light is? How can you thus be light-bearers, according to God's direction? And so in every particular. Taking on the brightness of the true Light, may it exhibit itself in your energies and activities. "No man lighteth a candle and putteth it under a bushel or under a bed, but on a candlestick, that it may give light to all that are in the house." Let it be in your houses, and if in the past year the candle of your faith and devotion has been flickering low, it's an opportune time to trim the wick afresh and to brighten the flame.

We have seen that Christ is the true and only Light. Let us believe in Him and walk in Him, now in this day of Gospel brightness and salvation,—so that we may become partakers of that still more stupendous Epiphany, that glorious manifestation, when the Son of Man shall appear in full splendor of His glory to take us home to the inheritance of the saints in light. Amen.

FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.

Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.—Eccl. 12, 1.

There is no idea, my beloved, more common among men than this, that not childhood, nor youth, nor manhood, but old age is the most suitable period for becoming religious. The argument in support of this idea runs thus: In old age we have less to do with the affairs of this world, and consequently shall have more time and leisure for those of the next; then this world will afford us little enjoyment and pleasure, and with our passions quenched, with hair turning gray, hands palsied, limbs tottering, can we fail to recognize these as the heralds of the grim king and hear his voice that says: "Be ready, the Judge is at the door"? As a vessel, rocked by storms and falling to pieces, makes all haste to get to port, so will we. So runs the argument.

Prevalent as this idea is, it's a wild fancy, a mocking and baseless delusion. For various reasons: At no time is change of heart more difficult than in old age. Not as if God's grace were less powerful then, but because the difficulties of conversion increase with years; the heart grows more callous, the sinful habits stronger. Take a sapling, for instance; it bends to your hand, turning this way or that, as you will. When seventy springs have clothed it with leaves and the sun of seventy summers has added to its breadth and height, it scorns, not yours only, but a giant's strength. Every year of the seventy, adding fiber to its body and firmness to the fibers, has increased the difficulty of bending it. In the matter of our everlasting welfare it is much the same. Advancing time hardens the fibers of man's heart. Of all tasks we know, there is none so difficult as to touch the feelings and rouse the conscience of godless old age. Moreover, it is an extremely doubtful matter whether we shall ever reach old age. Few do, and the probability is that we shall not. Of all our race, nearly half die in infancy. Another large proportion sinks into the grave ere the summer of life is past. Ask that aged man with stooping form and slow gait, where the playmates are of his childhood; where the boys that sat by him at the desk in school; where the youths, flushed with health and full of hope, with whom he started in the race of life; where his fellow-workmen or partners in business. With one blow of His hand, one sentence of His lips, God may dash all our expectations of threescore years and ten to pieces. This night thy soul shall be required of thee, and then think of the folly that suggests that old age is the best for getting an interest in Christ, peace with God, and a meetness for the kingdom of heaven. Do men act with such infatuation in other and far less important matters? Here is a man who insures his life,—why? Because, he will tell you, life is uncertain, because nothing is more uncertain, because the chances are he may not live to be old; "and if I would be cut off suddenly, what is to become of my family?" Men regard this worldly prudence. But, oh, that man would reason as soundly and act as wisely where high interests are at stake! Let me change but a little the terms of that question: If you should be cut off suddenly and early, what is to become of your family, and ask: If you should die suddenly and early, what is to become of your soul?

Let me this morning, prompted by the Gospel-lesson of this Sunday, which presents to us the youthful Savior in the temple, ask you, especially my young hearers, to ponder with me the words of our text: "Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth." We shall consider, I. that youth is the most favorable season in which to begin a religious course; II. point out some of the beneficial results of early piety; III. conclude with a word of general application.

Youth, my beloved, is the most favorable time to begin a religious course, because, we would say, in the first place, it's the critical time of a person's life. Childhood receives impressions easily, but these impressions, while lively, are not deep or abiding. How soon the infant forgets its mother and transfers its love to another, and the children that stood so pitiful at a parent's casket, a few weeks afterward are as buoyant and gay at their play as the happiest of their playmates. Manhood, again, on the other hand, like the solid rock, retains impressions once made, but does not easily receive them; what the intellect has gained in ripeness, the heart has lost in tenderness; and impressibility, lying between these two periods, is youth; then it is that our minds, like the wax to which the seal, or the clay to which the mold is applied, possess both the power of receiving impressions and the power of retaining them. Then the character is fixed; then the turn is taken either for God or for the world; then the road is entered which determines our future destiny. It is an old and trite saying, found in another tongue, "What the boy does not learn, the man does not know." In youth the powers are more volatile, the memory is receptive and tenacious. The mind is lively and vigorous, the affections are more easily touched and moved, we are more accessible to the influence of joy and sorrow, hope and fear, we engage in an enterprise with more expectation, ardor, and zeal.—Moreover, the season of youth will be found to contain the fewest obstacles, and is most free from the troubles which afterward embitter, cares which afterward perplex, and the schemes which engross, and engagements which hinder one in more advanced and connected life. And, hence, it has been the advice of the wise men: "In the morning sow thy seed." It is the young and tender root that penetrates the soil; it is when the fibers are delicate that, entering the fissures, it passes into the heart of the rock; and the earlier the mind is brought in contact with religion and becomes acquainted with its great and immense objects, the more thoroughly in after life will it comprehend and, like a root wrapped around the rock, the more firmly hold to it. It is the young recruits that become the best soldiers, and young apprentices the best mechanics, and the best Christians, in like manner, are those who have been so early. Run, in evidence of that, over the list of names which God so honorably distinguished in history, Joseph, Samuel, David, Solomon, Jonah, Timothy, John,—and you will observe that in almost all cases they are examples of early piety. And if we come to later times and read the biographies of those that have been eminent in God's kingdom, like our great reformer, Dr. Luther, and his colaborers, of Dr. Walther, and scores and hundreds of others, the Almighty seems to have acted almost invariably by the same rule, and appears to have seldom conferred distinguished honor, with very few exceptions, except on early piety. They were all men that feared the Lord in their youth. How important and reasonable, then, is youth to begin a religious course.

And, again, we would remark, it is, of all others, the most honorable period in which to begin a course of godliness. Religion is an ornament. Piety in any situation or age is pleasing to the Most High. It is well, when the world cannot fill our hearts, to turn our trembling steps from its broken cisterns to the fountain of living waters. It is a grand testimony to religion to see a gray and bent old man standing by the door of mercy and with loud and urging knocking imploring God to open and let him in; but it's exquisitely more attractive and noble to see a youth in the beauty and dew of his age giving himself to Christ and a life of high and holy virtues. Would you thank any one to offer you the shell without the kernel, or the stalk without the flower, or a purse without the money? And think you God is pleased with the dregs of the cup, the refuse and few declining years of a man's life? Is it fair and reasonable that men should employ their time and talents, their health and their strength, and their genius to serve Satan, the world, and the flesh, God's degrading rivals, and then ask Him to gather among the stubble of life after the enemy has secured the harvest? In the Old Testament God commanded that green ears had to be offered; the first had to be chosen for His services: the first-born of man, the first-born of beasts, the first fruits of the field. It was an honor becoming the Lord they worshiped to serve Him first. And, correspondingly, it is your duty in the New Testament that you should give Him the first-born of your days, the first fruits of your reason, the prime of your affections. It is with such sacrifices that God is well pleased. The Apostle John was the youngest disciple; he was called the disciple whom Jesus loved. It's the most suitable and honorable, and it is the most profitable and advantageous. It has its reward. That is our second consideration, viz., the beneficial results of early piety.

Here we would note, as the first advantage, that to serve God in youth is a safeguard, a defense against vice and temptations. No age, indeed, is secure. Till we arrive in heaven and have laid off this body of sin and infirmities we are never safe. Here, like travelers in the mountains, where a coating of snow hides the treacherous ice, and one false step may prove the Christian's ruin, we walk in slippery places, and have need to lean on an arm stronger than our own. Still youth is of all ages the most dangerous. With its ardent temper, its inexperience, its credulity, taking appearances for realities, its impatience of restraint, its unbroken passions, and feeble hands to control and guide them, it requires the utmost care and vigilance. "Lead us not into temptation," should be its daily, constant, earnest prayer. We read at times in our public prints of the wrecks that happen on the shores of our great lakes or the ocean, of vessels gone down in disaster and storms. What is that list of wrecked vessels to the number of men and women who year by year are wrecked in their youth on the dangers and vices of our towns,—our town? What a graveyard of virtue, honor, and honesty! Let the places of business where employers show no regard to the welfare, but only to the work of those in their service; let the houses where no friendly interest is taken in their domestics; let the halls of public amusement, the haunts of drunkenness, and the hells of vice, give up their secrets, as the sea does the drowned cast upon the beach, and we should have a roll like the prophet's, "written without and within with lamentations, mourning, and woe," as shocking, if not more so, as the field of battle, covered with the carnage of war. And out upon the scene, from the virtuous influence of home and school, steps the unsophisticated youth, a thousand avenues of seduction opening around him and a siren voice singing at the entrance of each. Evil companions surround him, erroneous publications ensnare his eye, means and opportunities of temptation and sin. He may flatter himself that his own good sense and moral feelings will render him secure, but as the wise King Solomon says: "He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool." The force of examples, the influence of circumstances, the voice of railing and ridicule, the fascinations of the pleasure party, stifle the finest resolutions, and often render us an astonishment to ourselves, as the old proverb says: "Give the devil an inch, and he will take an ell." No, depend upon it, there is nothing that will do to keep you virtuous, noble, and happy but a hearty consecration of soul and body to the God that loves you, and the Savior that redeemed you, nothing else than the restraints which that God inspires in His holy Law, and the helps that He provides in the rules and ordinances of His Church. Let a young Christian love the habitation of His house, the place where His honor dwelleth, and let Him follow the Savior's direction to watch and pray, and he will retain an undefiled soul in an undefiled body.

Nor only thus before God, but as it says of the youthful Savior in to-day's Gospel. He increased in favor with God and man. Early piety is honored, commands the respect of every right thinking person in this world. You will remember how the sterling piety of the youthful Joseph was honored by Potiphar and afterwards by the King of Egypt himself. Nor need I remind you how Daniel and the other three Hebrew youths, because of the excellent spirit of piety that was in them, was promoted to the highest post of dignity and responsibility in the Chaldean empire, and whilst God does not promise you that if you seek Him in your youth, you will be advanced to sit among princes and to rule kingdoms, He promises you honor and respect, in whatever station you may be placed. The most worldly people and religiously careless people would rather have the godly lad in their employ, the young man who is loyal to his conscience and of genuine integrity of character, who will do his duty, "not with eye-service, but in singleness of heart, as unto the Lord," than any other kind. In brief, as the Apostle says, you will find that "Godliness is profitable for all things, having the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come."

Let me, then, in conclusion, charge you, my dear hearers, to consecrate to the Lord the first fruits of your days. "Remember," says our text, "thy Creator in the days of thy youth." What though frivolous men and thoughtless women ridicule your devotion, and scoff at your churchgoing and professions! What though some shallow-minded companions charge you with fanaticism or singularity, hypocrisy or pride! The day is fast coming when they will be compelled to justify your conduct, to confess that you have chosen the better part, and to mourn that they neglected to seek the Savior in the morning of their existence.

And to those among you who have feared the Lord from your youth, and are now glorifying your Redeemer in the maturity of life, I would say: "Go on, earnestly pursue the glorious course which you have begun; be not weary in your religious life, grow in grace as you advance in years, be illustrations and stimulating examples unto others, and thus spend your life usefully for God and man, before the evil days come and the years draw nigh, when you will say: "I have no pleasure in them," when eternity stands at the door, and you will face your Maker. God strengthen you in this determination for Christ's sake. Amen."

SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.

Marriage is honorable in all.—Hebr. 13, 4.

"And God saw everything that He had made, and, behold, it was very good." These words of Holy Scripture immediately following the statement: "And God created man in His image, male and female created He them," contain the divine verdict regarding the social relation that we call matrimony or marriage. Declared the all-wise God: "It was very good."

That, however, was in the holy and happy days of Paradise, in the midst of righteousness, purity, and bliss. Sin entered, and things changed; the image of the divine Maker was forfeited, that purity effaced, over that bliss was written in indelible letters: "Paradise Lost." What, then, became of the marriage relation? Was it, too, dissolved, forfeited, lost? Wonderful Providence! From that universal wreck,—of the few things which God permitted man to carry with him, remains, to insure him happiness and welfare in the midst of a world otherwise steeped in misery and tears, the marriage estate. It was not lost.

The Gospel-lesson of to-day presents the Savior as being present at a marriage feast, and records that on that occasion He changed water into wine and manifested forth His glory. By His presence and by that miracle He also manifested forth, endorsed, sanctioned, and placed His divine approbation upon matrimony, as He once did amid the scenes of Eden's creation and loveliness. Nothing could be more significant than that, when the God-man came to found His kingdom upon earth, and entered upon His Messianic work, His first work should have been wrought in honor of the wedding tie. And so God's Word speaks of marriage throughout. When the Apostle desires a comparison to set forth the holy and pure relation between Christ and His Church, he knows none more sublime and noble than the union that exists between man and woman in wedlock, for which reason the Church is called Christ's bride—Christ is called her Bridegroom.

To raise one's tongue or pen in impiety or censure against marriage is to raise them against heaven and Christ. To set up in its place the teaching and practice of celibacy, by which men and women are divested, in the name of religion, from the ties and duties of family; to turn away, or in any manner to advocate what may break down the proper relation between the sexes, is casting reproach upon God's institution, and a perversion of true religion, as it is of nature's laws. To speak depreciatingly, disparagingly of marriage, to arch the brow, to puck the lips up in a smile, when it is called "holy" matrimony, and in any way to entertain light and derogatory views concerning it and family life, is to get oneself into conflict with, and to invite the ill favor of, Him who has thrown a sacred hedge around the institution, when on Sinai's mountain, in His Ten Commandments, He commanded how we should regard this estate.

"Marriage," says the Apostle in our text, "is honorable in all." There is nothing concerning it that is unworthy, unholy, hindersome to piety and salvation. The Son of God would not have graced with His presence and miracle those Galilean nuptials if it had not been holy throughout. Concerning the honorableness of that estate would I speak at this time a few words of plainness and truth. May He who is called the God of families bless them to our instruction!

Among the views concerning matrimony, there is also this one, taught by men sitting in professors' chairs and senselessly repeated by the ungodly multitude, that, as man has evolved from a lower to a higher form of existence, so morality and also matrimony have only gradually, in the course of many centuries, yes, thousands of years, evolved to what it now is. Originally man knew as little of matrimony as the beasts of the field. Little by little, pride and self-interest induced especially strong men to take unto themselves, and keep with themselves, one or a few of the other sex, and so it eventually grew into a custom and rule that one man and one woman should form a union for life, and in evidence of that they will even point to the Bible, the instance of Abraham, who beside his wife, Sarah, had her maid, Hagar, and Jacob had two, really four wives, and David, Solomon, in fact, all the Jews among the Old Testament kings practiced polygamy,—it was only with the introduction of Christianity that monogamy, the union of one man and one woman, and the indissolubleness of the marriage-tie, became general rule. What folly of folly, contrary to all sacred and secular story!

Without entering too explicitly upon this subject, do we not read in the chapters of Genesis that when Pharaoh of Egypt had cast his eyes upon Sarah, thinking she was Abraham's sister, that after he had been rightly informed, he at once desisted from his advances and made explanation? And did not Abimelech, when about to fall into a like error, offer apology and make restitution? Is it not plain from these cases that they well knew that the marriage relation was not to be broken, that one man was not to take another man's wife? Moreover, it never occurred to Abraham, or any of the patriarchs, to put away from themselves their wives, for any reasons, and these men lived nearly two thousand years before Christ. How absurd the contention that men originally lived without a knowledge of the sanctity of marriage! Turning to secular history, we have record of the same. Rome, for instance, was founded in the eighth century before Christ. Its first citizens were robbers, and such as had been banished for gross offenses from other cities of Italy. But concerning the marriage relation—they did not live as brutes. Every physically able inhabitant was legally required to wed, and for several centuries not a solitary case of divorce occurred. Such a thing was regarded simply impossible. It was not until late centuries, when effeminacy had taken hold upon the city, that we hear of those social abominations. The same may be said of our heathen forefathers, the German and Teutonic tribes; marriage, with them, was held in highest respect.

This, then, is the true view according to Bible and history. God instituted marriage at creation, and God ordained that it should be a union between one man and one woman, and that this union is indissoluble and inseparable. As everything else, however, suffered by the fall of man into sin, so also this divine regulation. The corruption at the time of the flood was such that God destroyed the world on that very account. "They took them wives of all that they chose," is the sacred account. It is with regret that we read of men like Abraham, Jacob, David, who were not found strong enough to resist the common corruption, but were deplorably drawn into looseness of the marriage ties.

How was it at the time of the Savior? The teaching of the synagogue was, that "whosoever shall put away his wife, let him give her a writing of divorcement." When it entered a man's mind to get rid of his wife, all he needed to do was to write upon a piece of parchment: "I divorce myself from my wife," have it signed by two or three witnesses, and the wife had to go; or if it occurred to a woman to sever herself from her husband, she demanded a writing of divorcement from him, and if he refused, life became miserable, or she would simply run away, as Herodias did from her husband, Philip, and married her husband's brother, Herod Antipas. And these occurrences were not done with blushing reserve, those guilty of it boasted of it. Beloved, are we not rapidly falling upon such times?

The miserable revelations that come from our courts are veritable cesspools reeking with stench and bestial filth. As one eminent jurist has expressed it: "Broken marriages are as common as broken window-panes." Divorce, what is it practically, in effect, but enabling men and women to live in successive polygamy? Now, over against this and all like influences and evils that would break down the honor of marriage, our Lord clearly and emphatically laid down God's Law. Here it is: "They are no more twain, but one flesh." "What, therefore, God has joined together, let not man put asunder," and again, "Whosoever shall put away his wife and marry another, committeth adultery, and whosoever marrieth her that is put away committeth adultery." These words are as clear as language can be. Only one exception does Christ give to the rule, Matt. 5, 32: "Whosoever shall put away his wife, saving for the cause of fornication." Fornication means unfaithfulness to each other in the marriage relation. Illicit intercourse with another person, that is given as the exception, as a just cause for severance. As for other causes, the Bible recognizes not one. And even in cases of fornication it does not demand a divorce. That, then, is the position of the Scripture and of our church. This is the practice of her clergy.

Again, another particular that tends to the honorableness of the marriage state, as pointed out in the text, is the high purpose which it is intended to serve according to the will of God. The family life is the foundation of human society. Married life, without seeking to fulfill its first purpose, the perpetuating of the human race and the bringing up of one's offspring in the proper manner, is to undermine, frustrate, that foundation of the state. This leads me to refer to an evil which I hardly know how to speak of, which should be named in the blackest of evils,—I mean the willful intention and resolve to defeat the first of those purposes for which matrimony was instituted by God. It comes looming up on the view of this generation as a great, a growing, an almost national crime. The foundation of a home is the first thing intended in matrimony. But some deliberately resolve that there shall be no home, or at least that it shall be as narrow, as limited, as possible. Be it to avoid pain, be it to shrink the duty of the parent, be it to remain free to enjoy the world,—arts base and black, devices which in the Old Testament were punished by death, are used to carry out these ungodly and absurd resolves; ungodly, because it would not be possible more grossly to outrage God's law than in this way; absurd, because a marriage contracted with that understanding and intention is a contradiction, a misnomer, a fraud on society and on the Church. And so I say, as God's minister and in His name, as we who must speak fearlessly, that this act of deliberately preventing the formation of a home is a crime, and one which brings down curses from a God of justice, who knows and who rewards according to our deeds. "Marriage," be it noted, "is honorable in all"; it is a holy and pure estate, and holiness must prevail therein.

And now let us regard the other part of our discourse: If marriage is a holy estate, then it must be entered honorably and must be continued honorably.

Marriage ought to be entered honorably. There is something appalling in the thoughtlessness, the irresponsibility with which young people will contract marriage; there seems to be often no apparent sense of the gravity of the act, no reflection upon what is involved. A pleasant face, captivating demeanor, money, or position are not infrequently the flimsy threads that tie the conjugal knot.

But how can any one who is a Christian enter upon that relation which, more than any other, affects the whole life, without consulting and seeking the blessing of the divine Author? Yet it is done, and alas! done only too often by those who ought to know better. Some contract acquaintanceship, keep company, and have an interchange of hearts, and never think of their God and Savior in connection with it. Religion, in fact, seems unwelcome and out of place to many at such a time, whilst one heart-felt prayer to Him in connection with such an acquaintance would in thousands of cases have prevented anguish of souls from which there is no refuge but the grave.

In other words, whether you will be happy or unhappy in the marriage life depends largely upon the companion of your choice. Therefore, when choosing a life's companion, ask God for His counsel to give you the spouse of His choice; and when you marry, marry honorably.

The contracting parties in to-day's Gospel-lesson were not a runaway couple, or Jesus would not have honored their wedding feast with His presence. Nor did they marry from sheer necessity to hide the results of sin. Their relatives and friends, and, if still living, their parents were there; they had asked for and received the honest and unqualified consent of the latter. It is not an idle service or the mere acknowledgment of a civil contract, but a proper and significant Christian act to have marriage solemnized by a religious ceremony, conducted by a minister of the church, and blessed in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

No Christian man or woman should ever think of contracting a marriage alliance at which a servant of God is not present to invoke the Savior's blessing. Marriage should be entered into reverently, discreetly, and in the fear of God. Nor can I in this connection refrain from calling attention to the good old church custom called in English "publishing the banns," the persons asking for the prayer of a Christian congregation upon their union. Thus, in the ways indicated, does a Christian enter upon marriage "honorably."

And having entered upon it thus, it ought to be so continued. There is one thing that married couples ought ever to remember, this: that they are both sinners. If they bear that in mind, they will not look for imaginary perfections in their life's partner, and will, conscious of their own shortcomings, bear with the shortcomings of the other. And where there is this conviction that both are sinners, they will find their balance in the Savior of sinners. It is well enough to bring into married life an amiable disposition, the happy faculty of controlling one's temper, but, believe me, the best thing to bring along, the most effective safeguard against discord and estrangement, is the fear of the Lord, the mutual respect for God's law and authority. Temporary differences, quarrels even, may arise in that home, but cannot remain. The husband has been hard and unkind, but will be prompt to make amends. If the wife has been contrary, quarrelsome, or has in other ways angered her husband, the love of Christ will not let her rest, but to acknowledge and seek reconciliation. There is nothing like genuine religion to regulate the household, to take off the frictions of daily life, to educate us in self-denial, in bearing and forbearing with one another.

Let us, then, keep before us the dignity of the estate, and conduct ourselves honorably therein, until God shall summon us from this earthly relation to the marriage feast of the Lamb on high. Amen.

THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.

Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be a well of water springing up into everlasting life. The woman saith unto Him, Sir, give me this water.—John 4, 14. 15.

Our blessed Lord, having provoked by His preaching and by His miracles the enmity of the Pharisees, they began to plot His destruction. To escape their persecutions, His hour having not yet come, He departed for Galilee, between which territory and Judea lay the province of Samaria, through which, accordingly, as the holy writer expresses it, He must needs go. The first place at which he stopped was Sychar, one of the cities of Samaria. In its vicinity was a well, called Jacob's well, in all probability because the patriarch Jacob had caused it to be dug. Arriving there about the sixth hour, or noon, fatigued with the toils of the day, He seated Himself, while His disciples went into the city to purchase food. He could easily have relieved His wants by a miracle, but His miracles He employed only for the relief of others. While thus resting and alone, there cometh a woman of Samaria to draw water. Our Lord at once resolved to benefit her. He was one who sowed by all waters, and with Him one hearer was enough to justify the finest sermon. He introduced Himself to her by asking a favor, the best way that could have been selected. It must be spoken to the credit of our poor humanity that a request for a favor is always regarded as allowable. There are men and women whom you would not dare speak to on the street, without expecting to be reproachfully treated, but whom you may with perfect confidence ask a small favor of, such as the time of day, a drink of water, or the like. Jesus saith to her: "Give me to drink." The woman is astonished, for she saw, by His features and His dress, that He was a Jew. Then saith the woman of Samaria unto Him: "How is it that thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria?" It was a very natural question. The Jews regarded contact with a Samaritan disreputable. Their touch was pollution; to spend the night at the house of one of them was to reproach a family for generations. A Jew would not speak to a Samaritan, much less ask a favor of one. But the mind of Jesus knew nothing of this narrow bigotry, this odious illiberality. His object was to benefit all, and He, therefore, freely conversed with all. His answer was: "If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of Him, and He would have given thee living water." The Savior, as you will have noted from your Bible reading, often seizes upon incidents and objects before the eyes of His hearers to shadow forth spiritual truths. Thus, when He had fed the multitude with bread, He spoke of Himself as "the bread which cometh from heaven and giveth eternal life." Being at Jerusalem at the Feast of Tabernacles, when the people in crowds drew water from the pool of Siloam, He cried with a loud voice: "If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink." So here He takes occasion to elevate this woman's thoughts from the earthly water to the heavenly. Still supposing, however, that Jesus referred to common water, she objects to Him: "Sir, Thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep; from whence, then, hast Thou this living water?" And to suppose that He could find better water elsewhere would imply that He was greater than Jacob, who esteemed this the best in all the territory, and so she adds: "Art Thou greater than our father Jacob, which gave us the well, and drank thereof himself, and his children and his cattle?" Jesus, pitying her ignorance, and bearing with her weakness, began more fully to explain the properties of that water of which He spoke. He said to her: "Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again, but whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life." The woman, still taking the words in a natural sense, was disposed to turn them into ridicule, and she begged the Savior by all means to give her some of that excellent water which would prevent her from ever thirsting again and would render it unnecessary for her to come so far and draw water. She says: "Sir, give me this water, that I thirst not, neither come hither to draw." To check her impatience, Jesus shows that He was perfectly acquainted with her character. He bids her call her husband. The woman replied: "I have no husband." Then came the crushing exposure; Jesus said to her: "Thou hast well said, I have no husband; for thou hast had five husbands, and he whom thou now hast is not thy husband: in that saidst thou truly." She, at once convinced of Jesus' prophetic character, adroitly changes the subject. Said she: "Our fathers worshiped in this mountain, and ye say that in Jerusalem is the place where men ought to worship."

This was opening up an interesting topic. When the Jews returned after the Babylonian captivity, they went to rebuild the temple at Jerusalem. The Samaritans proposed to bear part of the expense, and to worship with them, as they accepted some of the Jewish laws and ceremonies. The Jews rejected their offer, and would have nothing to do with them. The Samaritans then built a temple of their own on Mount Gerizim. Hence, the woman wished to be informed by this prophet which was the right place, Mount Gerizim or Jerusalem. The reply of Jesus was full of instruction; with great stateliness and dignity He said: "Woman, believe me, the hour cometh when ye shall neither in this mountain nor yet at Jerusalem worship the Father. Ye worship ye know not what: we know what we worship; for salvation is of the Jews. But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshipers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth; for the Father seeketh such to worship. God is a Spirit; and they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth." The woman, hearing these instructions, without disputing with Jesus, but also without approving entirely of what He said, refers the entire decision of the question to the coming of the Messiah. "I know that Messiah cometh, which is called Christ; when He is come, He will tell us all things," to which Jesus replies: "I that speak unto thee am he."

Here the disciples, returning from the city, interrupted the conversation. The woman went back to the city and told the people of the wonderful stranger. Full of curiosity, they came out to see Jesus, and prevailed on Him to stay two days with them, and "many," records the sacred writer, "of the Samaritans of that city believed on Him."

There are a number of important lessons that we may profitably dwell upon from this interview between Christ and that woman of Samaria. We shall restrict ourselves to the most outstanding one. Our Lord teaches us here the nature of salvation; He compares it to water. It is noteworthy and most suggestive that whatever in the material world is most useful and highly valuable to man is also the most common and most abundant. Things which can, without serious loss and injury to any one, be dispensed with, or which serve merely or mainly to give pleasure, such as gold, diamonds, and jewels, exquisite foreign fruit, these alone are rare, the property of a few. But what all men need, and most largely ministers to their comfort and enjoyment,—the wholesome food, the pure, refreshing water, the air, and the light,—these are spread out in free, unstinted store before rich and poor, young and old, one and all.—But besides this material world there is another with which we have to do, an unseen spiritual world, in which our souls are living and breathing, and there the same law obtains. God has abundantly supplied us with what we need. Two-thirds of the earth's surface is covered with water. You find water all over and everywhere, in oceans, rivers, springs, wells, sufficient to supply all the wants of man. So, too, there is not a meager quantity, but an abundance of living water. If all the human beings who have ever lived upon this earth could come to this heavenly Fountain in a body, there would be water enough and to spare, and it is everywhere and for everybody. It is for Americans, for Europeans, for the inhabitants of Asia, Africa and the islands of the sea. There never will be a diminution of its vast and boundless supply. Nor will God permit any barrier to hedge it in.

Like the water in your homes, salvation is being brought to your doors; it is gushing forth like a stream at your feet now, and it flows through the very aisles of this church, and filters into every pew. And like natural water, Christ's water of salvation possesses like qualities. To mention the particular He dwells upon in this text, Jesus answered and said to her, "Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again; but whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life." The soul has its desires, its yearnings, its appetites, as well as the body, and it is miserable until that thirst is satisfied. And how is this done? Certainly not by anything of man's provision. The various schools of man's wisdom, philosophy, have tried it, and we have their confession that they failed to find what they sought. The same may truly be said of this world's pleasures, possessions, and honors. These things, being earthly, leave the soul as thirsty as before, yea, even worse, like sailors in distress who drink the ocean's brine; it will but increase their thirst a hundredfold. "But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst." Christ's water, alone, is able to satisfy the thirst of the human soul.—The reason is very apparent. Man's happiness depends, first of all, upon a right relation to his God; as long as that is severed or strained, satisfaction and peace of heart are out of the question. And it is only He, that divine person, who sat upon Jacob's well, that has this supply of living water. We are made for God, and our hearts remain thirsty and restless until they find satisfaction and repose in Him.

But, you will note, it says: "Whosoever drinketh of the water that I give him." Christ gives it, but there is something, accordingly, for the thirsty soul to do. Water cannot quench the thirst unless it is taken; not all the water in the river at the foot of our city can save a man that does not partake of it. Nor can Christ's water of life assuage the thirst of a soul that declines it. There must be personal appropriation, or it fails of the blessed effects. Not as if there is anything meritorious in that, any more than it is a merit for one to drink a glass of water to allay his physical thirst. And yet, it is only thus that one becomes partaker of it; and the only reason why so many fail of its blessed effects is,—they do not drink it. It is told of a ship that its supply of fresh water was exhausted. The passengers and crew on board were at the point of perishing. For several days they had lacked water, and were almost frenzied. At last a vessel was sighted in the distance. They raised their cry: "Give us water, water; we are dying for water!" The reply came back, "Let down your buckets! You are in the mouth of the Amazon! You have fresh water all around you." They had been floating three days in fresh water and knew it not. It is so spiritually. Ignorance is what keeps many from salvation. The churches, like vast reservoirs and pumping stations, are seeking to supply the masses with the knowledge of Christ and His Gospel. They are actually floating like these perishing souls in the midst of religion, and yet they dip not their buckets to fill. With some it is because they are too indifferent, and with others, because of sheer stupidity they care not to give such matters concern. It is positively surprising to see how many otherwise intelligent and wide-awake men and women will be found altogether destitute of the first things, the A B C of Christian teaching and principles. Ask them to select the real things of man's life, to tell you the true purpose of existence, touch on matters of eternity, soul and God, and they are as ignorant of those things as children of the value of currency, who will tear to pieces a five-dollar bill and cling to their five-cent picture-book, or who will at any time take in exchange for a ten-dollar gold piece a large, glittering ball of Christmas tinsel. They know not, and so they value not, and allow the treasures of heaven, the gift of God, as our Savior called it, the blessed water of life, to flow by undrunk and unimproved.

To this first reason, ignorance, may be rightfully added another,—prejudice. There is a vast amount of that against Christ's religion. In fact, there is in every material heart a feeling of aversion against the whole thing, and, strange enough, those who might be expected to be most favorably inclined toward salvation, the outwardly good, honest, and honored, are, as a rule, set against it. Their self-sufficiency is in the way. Take the case before us. It was a most unpromising one, this woman. The reproof openly given by a stranger, a Jew at that, would have irritated many a one. Some would have replied by abusive language. Others would have denied the charge, especially as it did not appear probable that this unknown person could uphold them. But the Samaritan had different sentiments, and bears out the statement of our Lord that the publicans and sinners were nearer the kingdom of heaven than the Pharisees, who were so devout in their outward appearances. Some of the most unpromising characters prove the most promising, and those whom we should have regarded as giving Christ cordial welcome, the religionists of His time, were offended at Him.

So to-day, there are numbers of those who regard themselves good enough or not worse than many others and these very church people, and so are never seen in a house of Christian worship, except to see some one married, or buried; who will read anything and everything, and who are ready to meet with you and talk with you on every topic except one, and that is religion. Prejudice, my beloved, prejudice, short-sighted, cruel, unreasonable.

But, to conclude; to us, my dear hearers, as to this woman of Sychar, has the Savior come. He is sitting not only, as of old, on Jacob's well, He is sitting aside you in the pew, He is offering you the same water of life. Why not take and drink it?

People will go far and spend much to drink of earthly springs for bodily invigoration and health. Here is the life-water, which alone can give health to the soul, and which springs up into eternal life. Oh! that some of its life-giving drops may fall upon your hearts in these moments to soften them into penitence and holy resolve: "Sir, give me of this water."

I heard the voice of Jesus say,
Behold, I freely give
The living water; thirsty one,
Stoop down, and drink and live.
I came to Jesus and I drank
Of that life-giving stream;
My thirst was quenched, my soul revived,
And now I live in Him.

Amen.

FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.

And straightway Jesus constrained His disciples to get into a ship, and to go before Him unto the other side, while He sent the multitudes away. And when He had sent the multitudes away, He went up into a mountain apart to pray: and when the evening was come, He was there alone. But the ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves; for the wind was contrary. And in the fourth watch of the night, Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea. And when the disciples saw Him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, It is a spirit; and they cried out in fear. But straightway Jesus spake unto them, saying, Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid.—Matt. 14, 22-27.

Our blessed Lord was both, He was true God and He was true man. To-day's Gospel-lesson presents Him to us in the fishermen's boat, weary and sleeping on a pillow. There is humanity; for of God it says: "Behold, He shall neither slumber nor sleep." Again, the same story presents Him as commanding the winds and the waves. There is Godship; for of God alone can it be said: "Thou rulest the raging of the sea; when the waves thereof arise, Thou stillest them." And this remarkable contrast you will find running through all His earthly history. You enter the stable at Bethlehem. You see a babe slumbering on its mother's lap. You say, "This is Mary's child." Presently a company of shepherds enter, and tell what they heard and saw while keeping watch over their flocks by night. Scarcely have they finished their description, when wise men from the East appear, alleging that they have been guided thither by a star, and worshiping the Child with costly offerings. You stand on Jordan's bank and mingle with the thousands who have come to hear the word and submit to the Baptism of John. You behold one, Jesus of Nazareth, going down to be baptized, but you think little of it, for He differs, apparently, in nothing from those by whom He is surrounded. But as He comes up from the water, the heavens are opened, and the Spirit of God descends like a dove, and lights upon Him, while from the celestial heights comes a voice, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." You accompany Him to the grave of Lazarus, and you see the tears trickle down His cheeks, and you realize that He is a man; for neither Deity nor angels weep. But soon you behold Lazarus come forth from his sepulcher in answer to His word of power, and once more you ask in wonder verging on adoration: "What manner of man is this?" And so till you see Him on the cross, His back lacerated with the scourge, and His brow bleeding from the pressure of the crown of thorns. You hear the words, "It is finished," and see the pale cast of death settle on His countenance. But on the third day after, you meet Him in the upper room at evening, extending His hand in resurrection greeting: "Peace be unto you."

Now, what shall we make of this wonderful dualism, as we may call it? There remains nothing for us to do but to accept that Christ was true God and true man. No other interpretation or explanation will do. Our church, in the standard Confession, in the Third Article of the Augsburg Confession, thus voices its belief, and to that we subscribe. We teach that God the Son became man and was born of the Virgin Mary; that the two natures, the human and the divine, inseparably united in one person, are one Christ, who is true God and man. So much as to the great doctrinal truth taught in the Scripture-reading of to-day. It contains also a very instructive and comforting practical truth. We shall regard as our topic:—

The experience of Christ's disciples on the Sea of Galilee a picture of Christ's people on the sea of life, noting, I. their adversity, II. their security.

The poet has said that human life is

Bits of gladness and of sorrow,
Strangely crossed and interlaid;
Bits of cloud belt and of rainbow,
In deep alternation braid;
Bits of storm when winds are warring,
Bits of calm when blasts are stay'd,
Bits of silence and of uproar,
Bits of sunlight and of shade.

And it's more than poetic fancy; it is stern reality. Like that Sea of Galilee, the sea of life is sometimes calm and sometimes stormy, sometimes reposing under the soft smiles of a sunshiny sky, and sometimes ruffled and whipped by the restless gales.

Wearied from the toils and turmoils of the day, our Lord constrains His disciples to get into a ship, and to go before Him to the other side, while He sent the multitude away. When He had done this, He retired. Whither? Into a neighboring mountain. For what? To pray. He wished to be alone; His heart yearned for communication with His Father; He also needed strength and preparation for the work and conflicts of the morrow. How could He secure it? By prayer. How suggestive and instructive for us. Our Lord needed thus to strengthen and prepare Himself for life's difficulties and battles. Let us learn a lesson from Him,—discover where the secret of our power lies.

But while thus engaged, His disciples were in danger upon the sea. A fearful storm, one of those sudden, violent squalls, peculiar to the Sea of Galilee, had arisen, and was lashing the sea with violent fury. Try as they might, and they were accustomed to the sails and oars, they were perfectly helpless, and the greatest misfortune was that the Master was not with them. Had He been there, even though asleep, they might have roused and brought Him to their rescue. But, alas! He was far away. Consternation and despair seized hold upon them, when, at a sudden, they discern in the distance the form of a man walking on the foaming crests of the waters. What? Could it be He? Indeed, there He was, and He speaks to them. No sooner did He set His foot on the ship than the tossing waters sank down to their quiet bed. There was a great calm.

Beloved, these stories of the Bible have not been written for entertainment, but as the Apostle declares: "Whatever was written aforetime was written for our learning, that we through patience and comfort of the Scriptures might have hope." Life has its times of prosperities, and it has its times when the wind is contrary and wave dashes fast upon wave. The occasion of this storm may be various. Sometimes it is the matter of livelihood. Circumstances over which we have no control overwhelm us, embarrass us. Try as hard as we may, like these disciples, who made only thirty furlongs, we can make no headway; yes, in spite of our willingness and energy, we go backward; reverses set in, loss is ours. We are mightily tossed by the waves, and the clouds look dreadfully frowning and dark. Sometimes it is bodily ailment; suffering of one sort or another comes over us like a destructive wave; we are called to battle with disease, the probabilities and improbabilities of ever becoming strong again,—it is bitter experience. Or it may be the wave of bereavement. Like this little fisherman's craft, we are carried down into the depths of heart-rending sorrow; our eyes are wet with tears; before us closes the grave upon one whom we would have given the whole world to retain.

Contrary winds! Dashing billows! Rolling, tossing sea! And imagine not that by believing the Gospel, your being a Christian, will make you exempt from these storms. We are sometimes told: Do what is right, and you will not suffer. It sounds very plausible, but it is not true,—very unfrequently otherwise. Why was Joseph cast into prison? He did that which was right. Why were the martyrs put to death? These disciples in the path of duty when the storm came upon them were doing what had been commanded by the Lord. You may not infrequently be exposed to fierce blasts by being a Christian consistent, consecrated in life and duties. It matters not what your profession or portion in life may be, whether you are a Christian or not, godly or ungodly, rich or poor, famous or obscure, the storms of life will certainly, with more or less violence, overtake you. There is no exemption, no escape from them. Now, what shall we think, what say, to sustain ourselves amid experiences like that?

It may be well enough to note the experience of those disciples yonder on the Sea of Galilee. "And when the disciples saw Him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, It is a spirit; and they cried out for fear." What could it be, that moving form? A man? No, impossible! How could a man tread upon the waters? Then it must be a ghost, an apparition, a grim visitor from the other worlds. And as this idea forced itself upon them, they could not refrain from crying out with terror. Thus, my dear hearers, God's people are sometimes perplexed, when scenes of distress appear, and bereavement, humiliation, and sorrow appear upon life's sea. They are sometimes disposed to cry out with terror, "What can it mean?"—these dark and threatening forms. Surely, a loving and beneficent God would not alarm His children, and add still greater anxiety and anguish to their already fierce battling with the waves and the elements. My beloved, that is just what God does, and wisdom on our part, our sustaining strength, and the comfort consists in this, that we recognize that form, nor, mistaking it, cry out in terror.

That storm on the Galilean Sea was not an accident, it did not come by chance, it was sent by and with the permission of the Governor of the winds and the waves; and when the billows were rolling fiercest and fastest, His hand was there guiding and controlling. None less so with the streams of life. These are not accidental, but intentional. They do not come by chance, but are sent by, and with the permission of, the Governor of the universe, and when the billows are rolling fast, His hand is guiding and controlling our afflictions. Perplexing as they may be, they are part of God's grand and sovereign system of dealing with us. It is He, His Providence, His divine appointment and arrangement, not some strange, unmerciful power, which people call Fate, Chance, Nature, but the divine form of our blessed Savior. That is the first thing we must bear in mind amid life's storms.

"But straightway Jesus spoke unto them, saying, Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid." Human lips cannot describe the effect which these words uttered by that familiar voice must have had upon them. In a moment the whole truth flashed upon their minds,—the apparition so much dreaded was no other than He whom, above all others, they longed to see. There is a common expression in English, which speaks of "blessings in disguise." Such are all of life's untoward happenings to a Christian—"blessings in disguise."

That Galilean experience in the night and storm gave to these disciples enlarged ideas of the Master and His power, it developed their faith and trust in Him. Not for all the toil and terrors would they have foregone it. They never forgot it. Beloved, the time will come when you will look back upon that experience that wrenched your soul, that household cross that proved so heavy, that disheartening reverse that caused a big black mark to be drawn through your life's prospects and plans, those hours of dread and darkness, as the very occasions of your highest blessings, the making of yourselves. The "evils of life"—speak not thus—are blessings in disguise. "Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee, e'en though it be a cross that raiseth me." Have you ever seen anything but a cross raise men? The smiles of prosperity, the sunshiny sky, the even waves of the sea of life are not the means calculated to raise a soul nearer to God; that takes the buffetings, the storms, and the rising billows (blessings in disguise), sent by a wise God in loving purpose.

And one more. When the disciples recognized and realized that it was their Master, their fear vanished. Let the winds blow, the ship toss, and the waves run high, they felt secure,—He was with them. It is a simple thought, yet it constitutes the whole of religion, the essence of faith, our comfort in life, our hope in death, our all in all, this one thought: He is with us, Jesus, the Master.

I am thinking this moment of a man,—his eyesight impaired, sickness upon his body, his head bending low with age, striving hard to live, afraid to die. The religion of Christ was never his, and he desires none of it now. A more melancholy lot never was man's as he is tossed about with many a conflict and many a doubt, fightings and fears within, without, dissatisfied, unhappy. I am thinking of another,—his eyes have not seen the light of day for eight years; his once powerful frame is now as delicate as a child's, his hair is gray from much weariness and pain; but none was ever more cheerful, submissive, hopeful, and happy. The difference? The one has recognized the divine form walking on the surging billows, and has taken Him into his life's boat; the other has not, and will not do so. With the one it is a "great calm," stillness, joy. With the other, tumult, danger, and despair. That is the difference,—what a difference! So, whether it be sickness, or that the world goes against us, or that we are straitened in our means of living, or experiencing the loss of the dearest and nearest; not from them has Christ and Christianity promised to save us, but in them, trusting in Him, it has promised, and that we shall feel safe.

And that is the one great practical lesson of the day's texts, that is why they are recorded in the Bible, that we may have this faith, this comfort and hope. Then in the day of trouble we shall think of something more than the mere earthly and temporal look of the trouble; we should all think of God in it, of God guiding it, and of His sheltering and sustaining hand in it. Then when we are sick, our thoughts would not be so taken up with the mere pains and annoyances we suffer, the probabilities or the improbabilities of our getting back to health and strength again; but whether we get better or not, the remembrance of the Hand of our Savior in it will make us feel easy, submissive, and patient under it, as no other strength can. And so with all other trouble. Amid the waves of the sea of life, which is seldom calm, and often swells into mountainous billows, let us heed the voice of the Savior, "Be of good cheer, it is I." Let us toil on. No contrary wind can last forever. After a time we shall reach the other shore, and when we touch that, we shall be done with these storms. Then will there be a great calm. Amen.

FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.

The kingdom of heaven is like unto a net that was cast into the sea, and gathered of every kind: which, when it was full, they drew to the shore, and sat down, and gathered the good into vessels, but cast the bad away.—Matt. 13, 47. 48.

A number of our Lord's discourses were addressed to those who were engaged in agriculture. To such were uttered the parables of the sower, of the wicked husbandmen, of the mustard seed, and to-day's Gospel of the wheat and tares. Others of these discourses were spoken more immediately to His own disciples, the most of whom had been fishermen on the Lake of Galilee, and to them mightily appealed an illustration like that which we are about to consider. They had often experienced what our Lord so simply describes. They had gone forth in their boats to fish, and after they had drawn their nets to shore, they had made an examination of what they contained, and out of the meshes they had gathered the good into vessels, for sale or for use, and that which was worthless they had thrown away. A very simple figure setting forth a very affecting and awakening truth. May the Holy Ghost solemnize our minds and write some abiding impressions on all our hearts!

The subject divides itself into two parts. It shows us, I. The present mixed character of the churches; II. the future separation.

The Kingdom of Heaven, that is, the Church, is likened by our Lord to a net cast into the sea. The net spoken of is not the ordinary casting-net, but a seine, or hauling-net, which was sometimes half a mile in length, leaded below that it might drag the bottom of the sea, and kept above the water with large corks. A net of such dimensions will naturally enclose fish of all sizes and kinds, some bad and others good, some valuable and others worthless, some in the best condition, others out of season, dead, or putrid, and unfit for human food. And so it is with the net of the Gospel. It is a large, capacious draw-net; it is not merely let down into one stream or river, but it sweeps the ocean, the wide and open sea of the world, and its threads are so strong, so well knitted together that scarcely a single fish can escape. In other words, we have here a picture of the all-embracing Church of Christ, the preaching of the Gospel to every nation. But as the divine fishermen, the ministers of Christ, cast their net into this universal sea and enclose an abundance of human fishes, not all are of the same quality; it's a mixed and motley multitude. "In the visible Church there is a deal of trash and rubbish, refuse, and vermin, as well as fish," says an old commentator.

In this our own blessed country, where the Gospel is preached in nearly 2,000,000 sermons every year, and where churches and chapels rear their spires on the right hand and on the left, there are many professed Christians, and those who belong to the visible Church, but they are not alike. They were baptized in infancy, and many of them renewed their solemn covenant at God's altar in Confirmation. But there their religion ends. They never seek God's face in private prayer. They profane and desecrate God's holy day. They neglect God's sanctuary. They never read God's Word. They are daily supported by God's bounty, but they cherish no more gratitude to the Author of all their blessings than if they were sticks or stones. What are such baptized Christians in reality but vile refuse in the net. Others, again, are not so pronounced in their conduct; they do observe to some extent the proprieties of a religious life; they are seen now and then inside of God's house, and have their names enrolled upon the communicant or membership list of some church, send their children to Sunday-school, and withhold not at times a charitable hand. But, then, that is the whole of their religion. They do not believe in always running to church, in being so awfully sanctimonious; a person can be a Christian, read his Bible, and pray at home just as well.—That's the type of many. It is the form without the power. The virgin's lamp of profession is there, the oil of God's Spirit is not there, or very, very low. And, in addition to these various classes, there is a "remnant," as the Apostle calls it, in many places a very small remnant, "according to the election of grace." These are they, and some such are now hearing me who have received the truth for the love of it, and who have embraced the Gospel as it has embraced them. They belong not to them that are "good enough," and "if God accepts any one, He cannot pass them by," but being convinced by the Holy Ghost that they are poor, soul-sick sinners, they seek Christ's blood as their only remedy and Christ's righteousness as their only ground of acceptance, and flee to Christ's cross as their only hope, and seek to adorn this doctrine by a consistent and holy life and a diligent and conscientious attendance upon the Word and Sacraments.

These, my beloved, are some of the various classes of the mixed and motley multitude that are now being gathered into the net, the outward church, and yet it is sheer impossibility to distinguish between them. They are so closely mixed together; people may live in the same houses, walk together the same street, sit side by side in the same pew, listen to the same preacher, kneel at the same sacramental altar, and at last lie down, amid sacred ceremony, in the same burial plot, and yet may be inwardly utterly dissimilar, the one from the other, the one genuine, the other spurious; the one be finally saved, the other ultimately lost.—This is something which we cannot determine, which our natural, material eye cannot discern. But that is the teaching of our text,—there will come a time when this will be made manifest. As in the drag-net, first of every sort are gathered together in the same enclosure only for a little while, till the nets are drawn in to the shore, so in the spiritual net, the outward Church of Christ on earth, the opposite descriptions of mankind are equally enclosed, but only for a season, a brief season; they will presently be divided. Says our parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like unto a net that was cast into the sea, and gathered of every kind; which, when it was full, they drew to the shore, and sat down, and gathered the good into vessels, but cast the bad away." When the net shall be full, when the last saved of the number of God's elect shall be gathered in, the examination will be made, and the separation will take place. There is a time set in God's everlasting purposes,—we know not when, indeed, that time will be according to the measurement of our years, but we know that it will be when the Gospel shall have fulfilled that which it has been sent for; for, according to the Master-Fisher, it must not return void and empty, but full. And so the net is now filling, faster at some times than at others, all along continuing to be filled until it will be drawn to shore, the shore of eternity; and then will the dividing process take place.

From this parable, and from the corresponding one of the wheat and the tares, we see what a mistake we make if we expect to find anywhere a perfect Church upon earth. To expect the Church to be a community of perfect saints is to expect more than its divine Founder ever expected, according to the words of His own parables. There was a Balaam among the prophets of God, and Achan in the camp of Israel, a Judas numbered with the twelve apostles, an Ananias and Sapphira connected with the first little flock in Jerusalem. In the Corinthian, Galatian, and Ephesian Churches, planted and superintended by St. Paul, there arose bad ministers and disreputable private Christians. No wonder, then, that in our church and charges there should be found reprehensible and undesirable material, and no preaching, however powerful and faithful, no discipline, however strict and prudent, no watchfulness, however careful and ready, can ever make it otherwise. Even to the end of the world the goats will mingle with the sheep, the tares grow up with the wheat, whilst the nets are being filled, the bad fish will be gathered with the good. Perfection is not to be found this side of heaven.

The second error pointed out by this part of our subject is this, that we must not seek, by force or persecution, to get rid of what we may call putrid or unprofitable fish. Church discipline is, indeed, enjoined in the Scripture in regard to doctrine and in regard to practice. When Paul writes to Titus: "Rebuke them sharply, that they may be sound in the faith," and advises the Corinthians concerning the man guilty of incest, "Put away from among yourselves that wicked person,"—when a person has become manifest as an outspoken disbeliever or as an open transgressor of God's Law, flagrant in his morals, then it becomes incumbent upon a congregation to admonish, to discipline, for the saving of his soul, that person. Church discipline is not intended to cast away, but to bring back to proper belief and proper conduct, to save a person's soul, to keep him in the net, by removing his error and inducing him to live a decent life. However, if such a one obstinately persists in his wickedness, then it commends itself to every one that he can no longer be admitted to fellowship.

But it is not this quality of fish that our parable speaks about. In fact, such, to make it plainer, are no fish at all; they are vermin, lizards, or whatever species of reptile you wish to name them. A man that is outspoken in unbelief and profligate in his morals is not within the Gospel net. Christ in this parable is speaking of such people as wished to be recognized as Christians, confess themselves as spiritual and converted children of the Kingdom, and as long as they do that, we may have our serious doubts as to their sincerity; we may, as we see their faults and obliqueness of conduct, consider their Christianity of a rather dubious specimen or type—hypocritical is the common term. But it's not for us to read them out of the membership of the saints, much less dare the Church deny them access to the house of God, or resort to external force, police or military measures to enforce her teachings and persecute those who differ from her. Has that ever been done, you question? My dear hearers, the robes of the professing Church are red with the blood of saints, because it has failed to heed the parables of our consideration to-day. We think of a John Huss, a forerunner of the Reformation, taken to the stake at Constance, burned as an arch-heretic; of the Albigenses and Waldenses, persecuted, slaughtered by the so-called holy Christian Church, banished for no other cause but adherence to their Bibles. We call to our remembrance the scenes of the Inquisition, the horrible treatments and tortures, when Rome undertook to separate the bad from the good, and destroyed thousands of Christians better than herself, 18,000 in the Netherlands, 60,000 in France. We can still hear the bells tolling on that fatal day, August 24, 1572, called St. Bartholomew's Day, when the signal for a massacre was given that cost 30,000 Huguenots their lives in the streets of Paris. Time fails us to speak of England and Germany with their gruesome thirty years of religious war, of the countries where fanaticism, armed with the sword, wished to root out what it thought was tares, and cast away the bad fish; and let us mark that the Pope resides not only in Rome, but there are a multitude of little popes everywhere, judging and pronouncing on one another, with all the stringency and self-confidence of their colossal type in Rome, their anathemas, and who would, if they could, quickly and radically empty the net. But, says the Savior, let them be gathered together until the day of separation.

And by whom, to continue the parable, will the separation be made? Not by the fishermen, the ministers; for they are liable to make great and fatal mistakes. Ministers cannot see people's hearts. They may often think, "These are God's elect," when God says, "I know them not," and the reverse. No, my brethren, ministers will be sifted like the rest, themselves be classed either with the wicked or the just, and, strange as it may sound, those who have cast the nets, may themselves be cast away. God will, therefore, according to the parable, employ brighter agents for this important work. "The angels," it says, "shall come forth and sever the wicked from among the just." The same is told in the parable of the tares. "The reapers are the angels"; and they will do their work with perfect accuracy. They will make no mistakes. The angel that passed over the houses in Egypt committed no error. Every house on whose door-posts was the blood he spared, while in every house where the blood was not seen he left a first-born dead. So, in the separation on the final day, these celestial reapers will see at a glance who have been justified by the Lord and sanctified by the Spirit, and who have not. Not one will escape their discerning eye. Oh! what a separation that will be. There will be no haste, no precipitation; all will be calm and judicial. The angels will "sit down," as the term is, to denote the calm inquiry and the patient investigation of each member of the visible Church; and the good they will then gather into vessels, into the mansions above; but the bad will they cast away into a furnace of fire, where there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth. Methinks that these concluding words of our Lord are the most terrible that can be anywhere found, and yet, withal, they are the words of a loving Savior, graciously telling us beforehand what the result of the final separation will be. Well may we heed for our instruction the solemn appeal: "Who hath ears to hear, let him hear."

There only remains now for me, to rivet these lessons upon your minds, two further remarks: First, be not offended; secondly, be not deceived. Too often do we hear the remark, "There are too many hypocrites in the Church, I don't care to associate with such people." You are right, my dear friend; but such a clear-sighted person as you are will certainly not judge a Christian Church by the faulty character of some of its members. Have you remained unmarried because some people have proved failures in marriage? Or do you keep your children from being educated because some educated people are great rascals? Is this the fault of marriage or education? And will you contend that the Word of God and the water of Holy Baptism make those who hear and receive it hypocrites and spiritual counterfeits? What hollowness of reasoning! You would not spurn the gold because it is embedded in quartz, or discard the diamond because it lies buried in sand, or refuse the daylight because there is a spot on the sun. You know too well that a cause must be judged by its principles, its teachings, and not by the faults and failures of its adherents. And so when the question arises as to your connection with the Church of Christ, it is for you to consider the principles and doctrine of that, and act accordingly.

Again, be not deceived. We are all of us, in a sense, in the net; and in the net are to be found of every kind, good and bad. Which are we? Christ tells us that many—not a few—many at the last day, will cry to Him, saying, "Lord, we have heard Thy ministers preach, and by them Thou hast taught us in our churches;" but He will say: "Depart from me; I never knew you." Do you, then, belong among the good? i. e., those who have their souls appareled in the garments of Christ's goodness? In other words, are you a sincere and simple believer in Christ Jesus? Then shall you be cast into the vessels. May God grant us a favorable judgment when the drag-net of the Gospel is drawn to the everlasting shore! Amen.

SEPTUAGESIMA SUNDAY.

Is thine eye evil because I am good?—Matt. 20, 15.

Such was the question put by the householder, in the parable, to the laborers that murmured against him. He had gone forth early in the morning to hire men for his vineyard. He discovers that those engaged at first were not enough, so he continues to go forth at different times during the day to the market-place to employ others. With those first hired he had made a stipulated contract, fixing the wages at so much; with those later hired no such fixed agreement was made, but merely the general promise given that he would pay them whatever was fair and just. In the evening, when the work was over, and the steward ready to pay off the men, he directed to give them all one and the same coin; each was to receive a penny, the value of which, considering all things, was about $1.50 in our present-day currency, a common laborer's wage. Whereupon, relates the parable, those who had been in the vineyard all the day thought themselves hardly, unjustly treated. They said, "These last have wrought but one hour, and thou hast made them equal with us which have borne the burden of the day." "So I have," said the master of the vineyard to one of those murmurers; I have paid you alike, but have you not received your just due, the sum you agreed for? "Take that thine is, and go thy way. Have I not the right to do as I like with my own money?" And so, if I choose to remunerate these men after the manner that I have, what hurt or worry is that to thee? "Is thine eye evil because I am good?"

Let us regard for our study and profit this morning this one particular, "the evil eye," noting I. its nature, II. its cure. And may God bless His Word!

What, to begin with, is meant by an "evil eye"? It may in different places of the Bible mean different things. What is meant in the text is clear enough. The evil eye here is such an eye as the laborers in the vineyard had when they looked askance at their neighbor's good fortune. An evil eye, therefore, is a grudging, an envious eye. To say of any one in this sense that he has an evil eye, is the same as saying that he is of a grudging, an envious turn of mind. Now, this particular turn of mind is far more common than it ought to be. The divine Householder still has occasion to ask, "Is thine eye evil?" It is a spirit very general, in truth, it is the moral epidemic of the world, it is found everywhere, and more or less in everybody, yourself, my dear hearers, myself not excepted. We open our Bibles, and we read of Ahab, King of Israel, dwelling in the midst of affluence and of plenty, yet he goes to his royal palace, heavy and displeased, and lays himself down on his bed and will not eat,—why? His evil eye grudged a poor vineyard which Naboth would not surrender. Haman was the favorite of King Ahasuerus, the mighty ruler of Babylon. All the princes of Persia pay him respect and riches are his; the evil eye has stung his heart, and he says, "All this availeth me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai, the Jew, sitting at the king's gate, who will not bow to me." Nor is it confined to the rich, this grudging cast of mind. Coming down the ladder of life, who were the people that murmured against the owner of the vineyard? Were they not common laborers, who had been hired to work for the day, day laborers? And the disease is prevalent among them yet to-day. The disposition to grumble and tease themselves into dissatisfaction and discontent over the good estate of their more favored and fortunate fellow-men, is not this the fundamental heresy of Socialism, the evil eye? Again, coming from the various classes of men to the different spheres of life, in the private and social sphere, what mean those jealousies and rivalries that are ever dividing a neighbor from a neighbor, friend from friend, relatives from relatives? Because the one possesses more of this world's money or goods, because one is more attractive and amiable in person, has greater intellectual endowments, is more popular, eloquent, skilled, holds a position superior, he becomes the occasion for a brother or a sister or a neighbor to envy him, and the butt of all sorts of petty and annoying uncharitableness on the part of relatives. Example: Because he was beloved by his father and had dreamed a dream which showed him superior to them, Joseph was hated by his brothers, and they could not speak peaceably to him. No, let us beware of flattering ourselves that this malignant eye is not in the Church. The vineyard of the parable symbolizes the Church. The minister of the Gospel who looks askance with green-eyed jealousy at another whose efforts are crowned with greater success than his own; the Sunday-school teacher who throws up the work in wounded self-love because some one else occupies the place and prestige he or she covets; the over-sensitive member who smarts under the feeling that his or her talents are not sufficiently recognized, their efforts duly respected and flattered, and so withdraws altogether from every kind of cooperation and enterprise, may all look into, and carefully examine, their spiritual eyesight in the light of this text.

And having regarded the prevalency of the evil eye, what shall we say to it? It is something foolish. It shows a want of thought. People are envied for their superiority in fortune and estate, but the distinction between the gifts of God to man are not so wide as you may think. The rich man has his park, the poor man can look at it and enjoy it without the expense of maintaining it. Some people live in a stately mansion, but they have to pay very heavily for the privilege. The rich man has his valuable picture gallery; but to see the sun rise in the morning and set in golden splendor in the evening is a picture such as no human artist can paint. The poor man possesses not, it is true, some of the conveniences and delights of the better favored, but, in return, he is free from the many embarrassments to which they are subject. By the simplicity and uniformity of his life he is delivered from a variety of cares. His plain meal eaten with relish and appetite is more delicious than the luxurious banquet. You are acquainted with the story that tells of the king who invited a dissatisfied subject of his realm to visit him in his palace. He put a rich spread before him in his banquet hall, and asked him to indulge heartily. But the man instantly turned pale, and his appetite was gone, as, accidentally looking up, he beheld a sharp sword suspended by a tiny thread over his head. Then why envy the man whom God has gifted with talents of mind and tongue? Greater gifts entail greater responsibilities, toil, study, and more arduous duties. Foolish!

Moreover, what does all this envy of a fellow-man's better fortune avail? For me to pine over my neighbor's better fortune, for me to covet his superior talents of mind or beauty of person, will not make me more attractive and talented. What folly, then, because you are not so fortunate as another to make yourself miserable over it! "Envy," says a certain writer, "is the source of endless vexation, an instrument of self-torture, a rottenness in the bones, a burning, festering ulcer of the soul."

But the evil eye is not only foolish, it is more, it is positively sinful, and to indulge in such a spirit leads into all sorts of misery and woe. Because she was envious, Mother Eve stretched out her hand, and, eating, brought a blight on Paradise and a curse over God's creation. Because envy filled his heart, the first child born into this world rose up and slew his innocent brother. Because of envy Joseph was cast into the pit by his brothers. Why was David persecuted by King Saul? Why did Ahab shed the blood of Naboth? Why did the high priests, the scribes and Pharisees seek the death of the Holiest and Best that ever trod this earth, and did not rest till they fastened their eyes upon His agonizing form on the cross? What was it? Envy. It has ever been the mother of every evil work and vice. And its workings are to-day no different than then. In how many thousand ugly shapes does it show itself!

Now, this is the most important part, how may it be overcome? What is the remedy, or the remedies, that might be suggested? The laborers had been called into the vineyard, the householder was under no obligation to hire them; that he did so was by his own free choice. In a much higher sense, the heavenly Householder has placed us into this world. He has given us certain things, certain talents; some of us have received more, some less, but all that all of us have in body, mind, and estate we have from Him. "What hast thou that thou hast not received?" "By the grace of God I am what I am." Whatever we have we have from God. Seeing this, and that all alike are but the recipients of God's gifts, for me to be envious of another, whom God has given more, argues dissatisfaction, discontent with God's will and ways. God well knows how to distribute His gifts, and why He distributes them as He does; and so let no one of us arraign His providence. You have and receive just what is fair, and just that you should receive, and so learn to be content with that. "Take that thine is, and go thy way." That would I suggest as the first remedy against envy,—contentment, a sense of the conviction that what we have is given us all by grace, God's kind favor, and that He gives us just what is proper and right.

The second remedy is this, that we bear in mind that envy is the spirit of the devil. Heaven and heavenly creatures are never envious; hell and its occupants are aflame with it. Envy is against the Fifth Commandment, which reads: "Thou shalt not kill," a disposition of the heart that lusteth unto murder. St. Paul classifies it among the works of the flesh, putting it in such company as adultery, fornication, idolatry, murder, drunkenness, and the like, and over and against such things and associations a Christian's mind and conduct is plain. We must fight it and avoid it. Not the evil spirit, but the Spirit, the Holy Spirit, is to rule in our hearts, and Christ's Spirit is a Spirit of love, not the evil eye, but the good eye, the eye that wishes good and rejoices in the good of his neighbor. Since we cannot have both an evil and a good eye, it is for us to consult the heavenly Oculist. Let us pray God to help us against this murderous spirit; it is a work of the flesh; in a word, ask Him for the "good eye," and use it. That is, cultivate the spirit of rejoicing over the good fortune and success of another, giving due recognition to his talents and his endeavors, thanking God that, if one cannot himself do it so well, there is another whom He has given the means and ability to serve Him. Remedy second, then: root it out with God's help. He can do that, and He will do that, if we ask Him.

And to come back to the parable, it is only the workman who puts aside the evil eye that is acceptable in the Lord's vineyard and does His work well. The person that is always bent on his own honor, dignity, and self-consciousness is easily offended, and easily draws back. The superiority or success of another unnerves him, and not infrequently he acts like a balking horse. Not so the person who has been with the Divine Oculist, and has received in the place of the evil the good eye. He is willing to pluck grapes in a corner of the Lord's vineyard where they are not so plentiful and luscious. What if there was a St. Paul and an Augustine and a Luther and a Walther, and if to-day we have men in the ministry who quite overshadow me? Shall I for that reason keep my hands from filling grapes into my church basket? Nevermore. Should you, because you are no church officer or esteemed pillar in the sanctuary? Even if you cannot pluck some grapes, you may at least hold the basket.

The Church has a place for everybody; five times did the householder go out to hire laborers. It has a place for you; but when you come, leave behind you the evil eye. For that the Church has no place. Let every one think seriously over the text, examine his eyesight, ask God's forgiveness, for Christ's sake, for the sins he has committed in this respect, and help with His divine help to overcome it, so that he may be found an approved laborer in God's vineyard. Amen.

SEXAGESIMA SUNDAY.

Search the Scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they which testify of me.—John 5, 39.

This year marks an event of more than passing interest to the English-speaking world, viz., the tercentenary or 300th birthday of the translation of the Bible. It was in 1611, early in the summer, when, after seven years of the most painstaking labors, the most scholarly men of that time completed and turned over for publication their manuscripts. It was styled the King James Version or Translation, because it was with the help and patronage of that monarch of England, King James, that it was issued; and so as the Germans speak of Dr. Luther's Bible translation, the English speak of King James' Version.

It is this translation of God's Word that lies before us, for though in the past three centuries there have been more than a score of worthy revisions, none has dislodged this from its place of supremacy, and so it is fitting that grateful mention should be made of the glorious work, the blessings of which continue to flow out to us whenever we open the holy pages.

It must be remembered that the Bible, prior to these translations, was a sealed book. One seal was the tyrannical policy of the Church of Rome, that forbade the people to read it for themselves. Chained to the altar of some cathedral or to the wall of some library, like that which Luther discovered in the University at Erfurt, it was securely clasped and locked. The only persons who had anything to do with it were the monks, who in their dark and obscure cells would spend their days mechanically copying the sacred parchments. It was in this respect, indeed, a sealed book. Another seal were the languages in which it was written, so that, even if the people had possessed a copy, they would for that reason have been unable to read it; Hebrew, Greek, and Latin were things they could not understand and read. And to this might be added another seal, viz., that the Church of Rome had well seen to it that the majority of the people could not read at all. Ignorance among the masses was profound.

Now, thank God, no such seals exist. There is no prohibition of Bible reading in this land. There are to-day more Bibles than ever; it is the very best seller of all books, and no one dares forbid us to read God's Word as freely as we please. We also have the Scriptures in our own tongue, and never has there been a time in the world's history when people were as universally able to read. And yet, glorious as this all is, is it not true that the Bible is a book that is shut and sealed? Which is that seal? That seal, my dear hearers, is one of the people's own making, one that they themselves place upon it,—it is a lack of genuine study of it. They do not go and search the Scriptures that they may learn the wonderful things it has to teach them. If, then, I shall succeed in a measure to break that seal, and to stimulate you to Bible study, I shall consider that God has blessed the humble effort of His servant.

We shall regard this morning: I. Why you should read your Bibles. II. How you should read them.

Why you should read them. Because God says so. "Search the Scriptures," is His plain and authoritative command. We are well enough acquainted with the arguments of Rome that would tell us it is a great mistake to let every layman read the Bible. See what confusion it has caused. Whence came all these hundred and one different sects, these endless conflicting opinions, this skepticism among you Protestants? Is it not because you permit every one, without distinction and discrimination, to read the Bible? To which we answer: By no means. That is not the fault of the Bible. That some have wrested the Scripture to their own harm, misused it, does not do away with its proper use. God has beautifully made this world, and it is full of His blessing; that some, in selfishness and sinfulness, abuse it, is not His fault nor that of His gifts. He has given man His only-begotten Son for their salvation; the fact that hundred thousands do not accept and believe in Him is not God's fault, nor His Son's, nor His Gospel's, nor His Church's fault. Just as destitute of all sound reason it is to place the abuses which some have made with the Bible to the Bible itself.

No, clearly, distinctly, positively rings out God's command: "Search the Scriptures." He bids us do it. He points to each and every one of us, as if to say, "Thou do it." Does it not lie in the very nature of the Book? For whom did He cause it to be written? For the clergy, that the ministers might have some texts to preach on? No more so than He gave the Ten Commandments only to the clergy. They are the universal possession, they are for all the laity as well as the clergy. And to whom, as you examine the Inspired Volume, are most of its contents directed? There are the fourteen letters, or epistles, of St. Paul. A few of them, like those to Timothy and Titus, are addressed to a clergyman, but the greater majority are addressed to the congregations at Rome, at Ephesus, at Philippi, at Thessalonica, and so forth, to the members accordingly. Moreover, the direction in many places is, that the hearers should examine what the preachers say, lest they preach something contrary to the Scriptures. How could the hearers do this if they were prohibited from reading the Bible? Away, then, with this opinion that is gaining ground, that the Bible is a professional clergyman's text-book, and let the personal application strike home in your own case, Thou shalt search the Scriptures.

And one other reason does God furnish us in the text why we should read it. He says, "For in them ye think ye have eternal life; and they are they which testify of me." Those are deep, wonderful words; they tell what Bible reading benefits, brings us, viz., eternal life. That this present life is not all there is to life, that there is a life besides and after this, that all men in all ages and in all countries have conjectured; that life is dependent upon a right relation to God, this, too, an inward monitor, called conscience, however unwelcome may be its voice, tells every one with greater or less distinctness; but how man is to get into right relations with his God, to that problem one book, the Bible, and it alone, holds the key. What is that key? The text says it: "Search the Scriptures; for in them ye think we have eternal life, and they are they which testify of me." "Me," is the speaker, Jesus Christ, and doing what the text directs, we find that everywhere does it link "life" with Christ. "I," says Jesus, "am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life." "I am the Resurrection and the Life." "I am come that ye might have life." The writings of the Apostles are full of the same thought: "In Him was life." "He that hath the Son hath life." "He that believeth not the Son shall not see life." "This is life eternal to know Thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom Thou hast sent."

Would we, then, have life, life that is life indeed, spiritual life, life that passes over into eternal life, then must we find it in Christ, and this is the teaching of the text, and its application to us; to find Christ you must read your Bible. Outside of what the Bible tells us there is no salvation, no hope, no life. Let that thought, I pray you, sink down indelibly into your minds. There are some certain truths which men may know without the Bible,—that there is a God; that this God has certain attributes; that He is almighty, all-knowing, holy, just, gracious; for it is only an almighty Being that could have created, only an all-wise Being that could so adequately have fitted up this universe. Men also know without the Bible that there is a difference between good and evil, and that the one is to be done and the other left undone. Likewise they have a strong notion that man is immortal, and that there is a future state. These few things men may know without the Scriptures, and these few even only imperfectly. But when it comes to the questions: Who is God? What is His will? What His purposes toward us men, purposes of damnation for offenses and sins committed against His holiness? What guarantee have you that there is a life beyond this? And what sort of a life is it? Who has ever brought us information regarding it? What can afford me peace against a conscience that convicts me of wrong and offense against the holy God? When, as stated, it comes to deal with such and innumerable other questions, there is only one source of information, one book that can enlighten and instruct us, and that is this Book which God Himself has inspired to be written; in which He has revealed Himself, according to His person and His attributes; in which He proclaims His plan of salvation for the sinful and condemned race of men, and opens out to them with divine assurance the gates of immortality and life. There is none equal to it, nothing like it, it stands in a class all to itself,—it is not man's book, but God's.

Wouldst thou, then, my dear hearer, know these things that affect thy soul, thy salvation, thy everlasting destiny, then take this volume and read. So much as to the first concern, why we should read it. Because God commands it. Because of what it brings us. And now let us regard: How should we read it?

Here I would say, first, regularly, with pious consistency. It is well enough for a person to come to church on Sunday. As long as he does that, and attends to what is going on there, his soul is not left altogether without spiritual nourishment. But church comes only once a week, and if the soul gets no spiritual food beyond what it may pick up there, I leave you to judge whether it is likely to shoot up into a strong and healthy growth of godliness. The First Psalm describes the godly man as delighting in the Law of the Lord, and in His Law doth he meditate both day and night. Time, indeed, for the most of us may be very limited; but none of us—I say that without fear of challenge—but can, if he wishes and so wills, find a few minutes to read a verse or two when he comes home in the evening, or before he goes to work in the morning, or while going to work, and a couple of verses well thought over will do a person more good than whole chapters swallowed without thought. Resolve to do but this little, my dear hearers, and God, who judges us according to our means, and who looked with greater favor on the two mites of the poor widow than on all the golden offerings of the rich, will accept your two verses and enable your souls to grow and gain strength by this their daily food. The doctors tell us that our health is largely determined by the regularity of our habits, and this is as true of our spiritual health as of our bodily. There is none of us who fails to take a glance at the daily paper,—why not at the Bible? Be regular.

Then, again, as you have time, read it carefully. That is the direction of the text. The word "search" in the original is a very strong one, much stronger than "read." It may be rendered "ransack." Turn up and down,—bring all your industry to bear upon the quest. One trouble with our hearers is that they imagine that they are pretty well familiar with all the Bible has to tell them, and the result is that they miss the wealth of its hidden treasures. But there is no royal road to Bible knowledge. It calls for thought, earnest research, and thorough investigation. For that reason every one, to become right practical, every member of the family should have a Bible of his or her own, of clear type and good paper, and of substantial binding. On the margin that Bible ought to have the marginal references of which I spoke to you at length in a former service. In the rear of your Bible have a concordance; there you will find a large number of passages on a certain topic, for instance, prayer. Look them up in your Bible, compare them, and you will learn what the Bible has to say regarding prayer. So of other subjects, such as faith, charity, redemption, and the like. It is profitable and delightful work. It is like digging out gold. You will not mind the labor in the fascinating charm it has for you. And to this you may add as a most helpful guide a good commentary written by some sincere lover of God's Word. What other devout and learned students of God's Word have written it is well for us to profit by in our understanding of the precious volume.

Not a charm or an ornament to keep on our shelves or to lock up in our closets, not a story-book to read for amusement, is the Bible, but, as the text tells us, the means of giving us eternal life in Christ Jesus; and so we ought to make use of it.

There, then, it is—Holy Bible, Book Divine, our chief treasure in this sin-darkened world, giving strength, comfort, and salvation. Ah! who should not prize it, read it, search it? God make us ministers and our members Bible students; how much better ministers, how much better members we would then be!

May God bless the words of our lips and the meditation of our hearts! Amen.

QUINQUAGESIMA SUNDAY.

For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.—Rom. 3, 23.

A few days more, and we shall have entered upon Lent. What is Lent? Lent is a time of several weeks which for ages has been set apart among Christians for a period of more than usual seriousness. As observed in our Church, it is a time marked out from the rest of the year as more especially devoted to the contemplation of those vital truths on which our Christian religion is founded. To be brief, Lenten time with us is Passion time. Passion, in simple English, means suffering, more particularly, the suffering of Christ. Accordingly, Passion time, or Passion tide, is the season when we are more especially called upon to commemorate, and call to mind, and ponder, and think over the suffering of our Savior, Christ, those scenes announced in the Gospel when He was betrayed into the hands of wicked men, and by them was falsely accused, reviled, mocked, scourged, crowned with thorns, and at last crucified.

In order that we might do that in the proper manner, as we ought to do, the Church, from the earliest period, has appointed the forty days of Lent, just as it has appointed the four Sundays in Advent, to be a preparation for Christmas. For there are two great seasons in the year which it behooves every Christian to conscientiously observe, if he wishes to pay dutiful honor to his Savior.

The first season is Christmas, in memory of His loving kindness in coming down from heaven, putting on the nature of man. The other season is Lent, to commemorate His dying love. Both these seasons are so important, of such moment to the welfare of the soul, that the Church has set apart the four Sundays which come before Christmas and the forty days which come before Easter as a time of preparation. The wisdom of such an arrangement no one can doubt. Just like the early bell on Sunday is meant to call us to get ready for church, the service of God's house, so Advent and Lent call us to get ready for Christmas and Good Friday. When a musical instrument has been laid by for a while, it needs tuning, or it will make but sorry music. The minds and hearts of most Christians, too, require to be gotten into tune before they can bear their part fitly and harmoniously in the services by which the Church commemorates the death and resurrection of her Lord. And how? What is the best way to prepare for a profitable and advantageous Lent? That is conditioned by another question: What was it that delivered our blessed Lord into the hands of those wicked men, that caused Him that shameful treatment, mockery, and finally nailed Him to the cross? The malice of the chief priest, the treachery of Judas, the cowardice of Pontius Pilate? Deeper, my beloved, deeper; they were but the instrumental, not the procuring cause. The real cause, you know it, was something else,—sin. To do away with, to secure the pardon of that, Christ died. Then it is plain, that in order to understand the value of His suffering, to observe that season aright, we must begin with being convinced of the evil, of the exceeding hatefulness and danger of sin.

Here is the first elementary truth which meets us at the threshold of Lent, without which it will be of no more value to you than a lock without a key, a mine without a shaft; herein consists its best preparation, to secure a right conviction of sin. That, God blessing the effort, shall be the intent of our sermon.

When the ostrich, scouring along the sandy desert, finds that it cannot escape the huntsman, it is said to thrust its head into a bush, and fancying that the danger which it ceases to see has ceased to exist, it remains there, quite tranquil, to receive the death-blow of the huntsman. Poor, senseless, stupid bird! Yet not one degree more so than is the folly of many who are not birds, but possessed of reason and soul. Plenty there are who, shutting their eyes to the evil, burrowing their heads in the sand-heap of excuses and false peace, thus hide until the fatal stroke of death puts an end to their earthly career, and opening their eyes in a place where there is no repentance, as the rich man in the parable, they realize that it is too late.

If we turn to the Bible, it teaches that there are two great classes or kinds of sin; and if we turn to the witness within and the evidence without, we shall find what the Bible tells us everywhere corroborated and borne out. The one kind of sin is the Original or Birth Sin, that all men are naturally engendered, are conceived and born in sin; that is, they are all, from their mother's womb, full of evil desires and propensities, and that this is the fountainhead of all other, or actual, sins, such as evil thoughts, words, and deeds. There are many who reject this doctrine; they contend that when man is born into this world, his soul is as pure as the snow that comes down in beautiful flurries from the sky, and as perfect as the vessel that passes from the potter's hand; they tell us that we are God's favorite creatures, that He has made us lords of the creation and heirs of eternal life, and that, therefore, it is quite impossible that we should be so prone to sin, as our Church, setting forth the doctrine of the Bible in her confession, declares us to be. But they are willfully ignorant. The question whether we are prone to sin from our cradles upward is a mere question of fact. One has only to look into one's own heart, and what do you find there, good or evil? You will say, a little of both. Be it so; but tell me, or rather tell yourselves, honestly and truly, which of the two cost you the most trouble to learn, and which of the two comes the easier? Is there a doubt? Does one contract good habits easier than bad, or the reverse? Is it easier for a sober man to become a drunkard than for a poor, miserable, besotted drunkard to trace his steps back and to become sober? Or, another point of view. Ask mothers, accustomed to watch their children from earliest infancy, whether every child that has come under their observation had not something to learn that was good, and something to unlearn that was evil. Now, whence did this evil come from? It cannot have been taught to the child, for the evil showed itself at a time before all teaching; it had it naturally. And so it is in other things. The good wheat must be sown and looked after, or it will never amount to much. The weeds sprout up and spread of themselves, and it is as great a labor to keep them down as to get the good wheat up. The truth is, "Like begetteth like." "In Adam's fall we sinned all." The fountain was polluted, so is the stream; sin is born in the bone, as it were, and without God's help we can no more mend it than a sick man can mend and cure himself without the help of a physician.

But this original sin is not the only kind. Though men deny that, they cannot deny the other, what our Catechism calls Actual Sin. Like trees in the forest does it surround them. Where is the man that dares affirm that he has never been guilty of doing what he should never have done, or guilty of not doing what he should have done? Lives there a person so happy as to look back on the past and feel no remorse, or forward to the future and feel no fear? What? Is there no page of your history that you would obliterate, no leaf that, with God's permission, you would tear from the book of life's story? To David's prayer, "Lord, remember not the sins of my youth, nor my transgressions," have you no solemn and hearty Amen? If you could be carried back to the starting-post, and stood again at your mother's knee, and sat again at the old school desk with companions that are now changed, or scattered, or dead, or gone, were you to begin life anew, would you run the selfsame course, would you live over the selfsame life? Is there no speech to unsay, no act to undo, no day, Sunday, or evening to spend better? No one among those with whom you are now living or among those that have gone before—to whom you would bear yourself otherwise than you have done? Where is there a breathing man that can say: "I am pure in my heart. I am clear from all sin"? If he does, he deceives himself, the truth is not in him. As well deny your existence as deny the existence of actual sin.

But what men will not deny they will seek to excuse. It were amusing, if it were not a matter so serious, to observe with what palliation and apologies defenses are thrown up by which, after all, men's sins do not look so exceedingly sinful. Thus there be those who say: If we are naturally born to evil, as the Bible says and our experience testifies, we cannot help it, and how can it be a fault of ours if we do wrong? And how can God blame and punish us for not being better than He made us? It is thus that Scotland's famous poet, Burns, sings:

Thou knowest that Thou hast formed me
With passions wild and strong,
And listening to their witching voice
Has often led me wrong.

In other words, I am a sinner, but the fault is not mine, but God's.

Or, again, they ascribe the blame to the power of temptation. "The serpent beguiled me," was the excuse of the first sinner; it is still, in a more or less measure, the excuse of every sinner. Temptation came upon them so suddenly and with such stealth and vehemence that it swept them off their feet before they were aware of it. Or (once more), like the original sinner, they lay their blame upon their fellow-man. "The woman that Thou gavest to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat." What parent or mother has not discovered, in correcting a disobedient boy, that he is uniformly punishing the wrong one? It was always the other boy who brought about the evil act, and so, invariably, it is the bad company, evil influences, peculiar surroundings, locality, that make people to sin.

Whatever the palliatives and excuses, my beloved hearers, the thing will not do; it is vain and ignoble, and, in part, what has been said is blasphemy. In the first place, whatever prompted, tempted the act, the act was done by the sinner himself, and not by another; he knew of it, he consented to it, he gave his members and body to it. It is also useless to say that he was swept away by temptation. The same excuse might the suicide plead who seeks the river, stands on its brink, and, leaping in, is swept off to his watery grave. We go down like Samson to Delilah; we stand in the way of sinners, we frequent the places of guilty pleasures, and then, falling, complain about the strength of temptation. Away with all such subterfuges and opiates that simply drug the conscience!

What is sin? Sin, says God's Word, is the transgression of the Law, the most terrible and abominable thing in this world. Sin is that which drove man out of Paradise garden, robbed him of the divine image, severed the happy relation between him and his Creator, and plunged him into accursedness and misery. Sin is a disease which turns all moral beauty into rottenness, causes all grief and distress, breaks hearts, and fills our cemeteries, man's worst, man's most ruinous and most formidable enemy, that dogs his every footstep in this life, and calls down upon his body and soul the wrath and eternal damnation from a God who hates and who punishes sin.

What greater comfort, then, than to know how and where to receive deliverance and remedy from it. It has been stated before among the excuses that man is born a sinner, and because born so, he cannot be blamed for sinning, any more than a sick person for dying. He cannot help it. That seems very plausible, indeed. It would be very unjust to blame a sick person for dying, provided there were no remedies; but in a country where there are plenty of physicians and the sick have only to send for them,—if in such a country a sick man is obstinate, and will not send for a physician, nor take the means of being made well, he is to blame, and if he dies, he is guilty of his own death. And suppose now that the physician does not wait to be sent for, that he comes of his own accord to the sick man's bedside, that he brings a medicine of rare herbs in his hand, and says to the sick man: "My friend, I heard you were very sick, and so I came to see you and fetch you a medicine which is a certain cure if you take it. Never mind your poverty, I ask no payment." But the sick man refuses it; he does not like its look, or he finds it is bitter to take, or a neighbor has told him not to heed the physician, and he dies. Who is to blame? That's our case precisely. We have a soul's sickness. But a great Physician is come to us. He has a dear remedy, a specific, made of the most precious ingredients, viz., His holy, precious blood and His innocent suffering and death. He brings that medicine to our doors. Shall we refuse to take it? Shall we say that we will have none of it? We may do so; there is no compulsion; this heavenly Physician foists Himself on none. But whose shall be the blame, who be the loser? Be wise, then. Lenten time is repenting time. May we, as it says in the Collect, so pass through this holy time of our Lord that we may obtain the pardon of our sins. May we enter this incoming season with a solemn earnestness toward spiritual things, with a resolve to spend its days in sacred devotion under the cross, and with sorrow over our past failures set ourselves to a better and more consecrated life. And to this may the good Lord graciously incline the hearts of every one of us! Amen.

FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT.

Then came Amalek, and fought with Israel in Rephidim. And Moses said unto Joshua, Choose us out men, and go out, fight with Amalek; to-morrow I will stand on the top of the hill with the rod of God in mine hand. So Joshua did as Moses had said to him and fought with Amalek; And Moses, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of the hill. And it came to pass, when Moses held up his hand, that Israel prevailed; and when he let down his hand, Amalek prevailed. But Moses' hands were heavy; and they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat thereon: and Aaron and Hur stayed up his hands, the one on the one side, and the other on the other side: And his hands were steady until the going down of the sun. And Joshua discomfited Amalek and his people with the edge of the sword.—Exodus 17, 8-13.

An impressive picture of modern art is that which has for its scene the Evil One, the devil, sitting at a table playing a game of chess. Bending over the board, with the self-possession of a master, reclines the adversary of man. At the opposite side is a young man. There is a look of diabolical glee upon the dark brow of Satan, whilst the features of his playmate wear the signs of deepest agony; for, alas! that which the youth has staked on the results of the game seems hopelessly lost—his immortal soul. Back of the young man, unseen by him, the artist has painted a calm, benignant figure. It is his guardian angel, or better still, the Angel of the Covenant, the Lord, whose heavenly skill at last checkmates the destroyer.

This is not merely poetic and artist's fancy. It is with no cloudy vagueness that the existence of a Spirit of Evil is revealed in the Holy Scriptures. There are many these days who are disposed to laugh at the account which tells us of man's temptation and fall in the Garden as a myth, an Oriental hyperbole, and to characterize the closing chapters of Revelation, which inform us of the Tempter's fall and fate, as allegory and romance. But there still remains scattered throughout the Bible, in connection with every prominent Bible character and Bible event, mention of a personal agent of evil, the foe of God and the foe of man, bent with restless activity and mastery of deceit upon the destruction of souls and the corruption of the creation of God.

Not a matter of speculation is this belief in the existence and power of the chief of fallen angels, and far wiser and prudent were it if, in place of talking of, people, in humble acceptation of God's Word, would recognize their foe, and seek the strength and means to contend with him.

What we need against the arch-enemy of our souls is the simple faith and the bold defiance that breathes forth in the life, the words, and the hymns of our great Reformer, a spirit which prompted him to do—what is perhaps only a tradition, yet fully characterizes the man—viz., that when his mighty imagination had conjured up before him the very form and face of the Wicked One, he took his inkstand and hurled it at him, leaving behind, as memento, an ugly spot upon the wall of his study.

It is of this conflict with the Prince of Darkness that the text speaks.

Three particulars would we note: I. The foe to be encountered; II. the weapons employed; III. the victory achieved, and as Moses was distinctly bidden by God in the 14th verse of the chapter from which our text has been taken: "Write these for a memorial in a book," let us write the words spoken for a memorial on the tablet of our hearts.

We meet the people of God in Rephidim engaged in a fierce encounter with the Amalekites. No doubt, the Lord could have led His people safely through the wilderness without any such conflicts if He had chosen to do so, but He had His own, wise designs in permitting them. And so with Satan's workings and attacks people may argue and speculate. Why did God ever permit such a dangerous foe to exert his malicious power and tempt mankind? Suffice it to answer: It thus seemed good unto Him, and is in perfect accordance with His almightiness and wisdom.

The Amalekites, the people with whom the Israelites were in conflict, were the descendants of Esau, Amalek having been his grandson, and as is wont to be with relatives, unfortunately, the hatred which Esau entertained toward his brother Jacob had become transplanted upon his children, yea, seems to have grown the more bitter, deeper, and malignant as time progressed. And the offspring of both multiplied into a great and prosperous people. The Amalekites at this time occupied a large tract of land extending from the confines of Idumea to the shores of the Red Sea. When, therefore, Israel crossed over and encamped at the Mount of Sinai, they were close upon their borders; but they offered them no injury nor provocation, and far from invading their territory, they were turning rapidly away from it when Amalek assaulted them, and that in a most dastardly manner; for, not daring to engage them in front, they smote the hindmost of them, even all that were faint and weary, who had lagged behind and were alike incapable of resistance or flight. When Moses became aware of the enemy, he issues command unto Joshua, the military leader: "Choose us out men, and go out, and fight with Amalek; to-morrow I will stand on the top of the hill with the rod of God in mine hand." "So Joshua did as Moses had said to him, and fought with Amalek; and Moses, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of the hill." And whilst the battle was raging in the valley, whilst the swords were clashing, the warriors grappling, the wounded groaning, and the fighting masses surging to and fro in fierce and bloody encounter, Moses was stationed upon the brow of Mount Sinai, lifting up his hands in prayer and intercession to the God of Battles. An encouraging sight! From that ancient battle-ground, a picture and pattern, we would direct our eyes unto ourselves.

Like as of old, we are warriors of the Lord, soldiers of Jesus Christ. We have our Amalek, the old evil Foe, who means deadly woe. Let us take our stand by the side of Moses in the mountain, and for a few moments look at the enemy. Foremost, the leader of the host, is that original tempter, deceiver, destroyer, and murderer, that Wicked One, the Father of Lies, the Prince of Darkness, the roaring lion that goes about seeking whom he may destroy. Marshaled around him, as their mighty captain, are legions of lesser spirit-beings which arithmetic cannot begin to calculate. Scripture tells us that Satan could spare seven devils to torment one poor sinner. What, then, must their number be? And as the Amalekites, they hate us with a perfect hatred. Having by their bad ambition and pride lost heaven and being hurled to the bottomless pit, they are now most bitterly and irreconcilably opposed to everything that stands in connection with the Redeemer and His redeemed. To think that we, who are equally fallen into sin, should be restored to grace, accepted to the very thrones they have lost, is more than their envy can endure. For this reason they pursue us through life, dog our every step, and press us to the very gate of death. What tactics does this spiritual enemy employ? As the enemy in the field, by false signals, feigned movements, masked batteries, and every strategic art, seeks to conceal his position, disguises his plan of attack, just so our spiritual enemies seek to beguile by a thousand stratagems and schemes to mislead the unwary and inexperienced and bring to fall the strongest.

As in the case of the Amalekites, they attack you in your most vulnerable points and at a time when you are faint and weakest; and they are as vigilant as they are cunning. Always and everywhere they are on the watch for souls. If you come to the house of God, they are here before you; if you enter your room in prayer, you cannot shut them out. By day they compass your path, by night they surround your pillow. Wherever you are they are; whatever you say, they hear it; whatever you do, they perceive it. From our birth to our burial—a frightful thought!—we are perpetually watched by myriads of malignant eyes, unclean and accursed spirits, ready to avail themselves of every opportunity to do us harm and ruin all our hopes. Or need we any examples for what harm they have done? Behold that lovely pair fresh from the Creator's hand walking the groves of Eden, and behold again the outcasts—we know the cause. Observe Job, that perfect man of Uz, robbed of his property and his children, and smitten in body with a sore disease. Who was it that instigated Judas to betray the Lord, Peter to deny Him, all Jerusalem to clamor for His blood, the Roman governor to condemn Him to the cross? St. John said in his day that the whole world was lying in the bosom of the Evil One, and it is much the same to this present day. All men are more or less subject to his influences, and two-thirds of the human race controlled by this evil genius. This, then, is the foe with whom we are obliged to contend.

But how can the lamb cope with the lion? How can we expect to conquer that enemy who conquered our first parents in the strength of their original purity? Truly, "With might of ours can naught be done, soon were our loss effected." And yet we have nothing to fear. We have a precious ally, we battle under a valiant, an unconquerable Leader. The Lord of Hosts is with us, just so we are firm in the strife and rightly use the weapons He has furnished us. And which are these? Reading the 13th verse of our text, we find it distinctly mentioned: "And Joshua discomfited Amalek and his people with the edge of the sword." And which is our spiritual sword? For our enemy being spiritual, it is evident our weapon must be likewise. Saint Paul gives answer when he says in Ephesians: "Take the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God." Here, then, Christian warrior, is a weapon, better than Damascus blades. With this our Lord defeated Satan in the wilderness; with this St. Peter pierced the hearts of thousands on Pentecost; with this St. Paul made Felix tremble, and Agrippa, as he confessed to Paul, was almost persuaded by him to become a Christian; with this Martin Luther prevailed against the son of Belial and his besotted minions. Grasp it firmly, wield it vigorously. Or do you claim you do not know how? Then permit me to give you a few general directions. You are all familiar with the story of David and Goliath,—how the great champion of the Philistines daily came forth, cursing and challenging the people of God, until one day a shepherd lad of Bethlehem comes into the camp and with a stone from his sling stretches the huge form of the giant flat upon the ground. You, my beloved, are spiritual Davids; the smooth pebbles you have gathered up from the brook of God's Word are the holy Ten Commandments; learn to sling these aright, and you are invincible. Are you, for instance, tempted to speak the Lord's name irreverently, then place pebble, called the second, in your spiritual sling, which says: "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord, thy God, in vain," and your tempter will fall flat like Philistia's giant. Are you tempted to negligence, indifference in regard to the Lord's day and the Lord's house, take No. 3. Would Satan tempt a young Christian to disobedience, to indecency, or an old Christian to dishonesty, intemperance, coveteousness,—whatever the sin may be, select the proper pebble, and victory is yours. "This world's prince may still scowl fierce as he will, he can harm us none, he's judged, the deed is done, one little word can fell him." Then, too, let us remember that we are "more than conquerors through Him that loves us." In His strength let us battle. When the devil would deceive us, or seduce us into misbelief, despair, and other great shame and vice, let us cast ourselves upon Him who vanquished the Evil Foe. His cross is our strength. Let us hold that up before him, and he will skulk away in sullen retreat. The precious Gospel of Christ will quench all the fiery darts of doubt, unbelief, and despair which the hellish enemy would shoot into our hearts. Thus with the Law and the Gospel we can conquer him.

Nor is this all. Another powerful weapon is placed at our command. Most graphically does our text describe it when it says: "And Moses, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of the hill. And it came to pass, when Moses held up his hand, that Israel prevailed; and when he let down his hand, Amalek prevailed." The Israelites would not have conquered had they not fought. But the other is equally as true: they would not have conquered had Moses not prayed. The real decision in the matter seemed not so much in the conflict in the valley as with the man of prayer, the suppliant on the mountain. And here, my dear Christian, still rests your power. Much as people may sneer at prayer in these atheistic and skeptic times, prayer is the hand that moves the world. "Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon his knees." Our Lord warning Peter addresses him, "Simon Peter, behold, Satan hath desired to have you that he may sift you as wheat; but I have prayed for thee"; and His constant exhortation in the sore hour of Gethsemane was, "Watch and pray lest ye fall into temptation." How many a one when he asks himself, How was it possible that I should have fallen so deeply and strayed so far from my God? will hear his conscience whisper: You had grown indifferent, neglectful in your devotion and your prayers, and hence came your failure. Prayer must be incessant and mutual. Two are better than one, and a threefold cord is not quickly broken. Moses, Aaron, and Hur, together they prevailed. Where man and wife join in sacred communion to the God of families, His blessing will rest upon them, and the Evil One be kept at bay. Where a congregation is strong in devout and earnest looking to God, it can accomplish wonders against the Prince of Darkness and the wickedness of the world. When the day closed and the sun had sunk beneath the battle-ground in Rephidim, the victory was won; Amalek was defeated. It was Israel's first achievement, but not their last. Amalek continued to harass them, and even Saul and David had to take up arms against them. Nor is it different with us. The spiritual campaign lasts "until we draw our fleeting breath, till our eyelids close in death"; hence, "from strength to strength go on, wrestle, and fight, and pray, tread all the powers of darkness down, and win the well-fought day." And if at times your hands would grow weary and your knees weak amidst the conflict in the valley, then look up like Israel of old to the mountain from whence cometh your help, to that blessed knoll where hangs our divine Moses with his arms extended,—look up to the cross. Amen.