their sanctification for its own sake; for all pollution is repugnant, as purity is congenial, to His pure and spotless nature. But you will perceive that He also desires these blessings for His disciples, because of their bearing on the conversion of the world. Blessings sought for those who were already His disciples are closely linked together in His mind with the conversion of those who should afterwards believe on Him through their word. And more obviously the union of these future converts is linked with, and viewed, and sought, as the means of promoting the world's conversion, "That they all may be one, . . . that the world may believe that Thou hast sent me." So far, then, the conversion of the world, though not the only, is the ultimate, object of His prayer. Other blessings are sought, not simply because of what they are in hemselves, but because of their fitness to promote this. His large benevolence desires nothing less than the conversion of the world. And His prescient mind, looking down the vista of the future, sees the lorious and grateful spectacle which the world has not witnessed yetbut shall witness, we trust and believe, before the end of time—of a mited Church-one in faith and one in heart-promoting by the nited force of its efforts and the beauty of its character the conversion of the world; and in desiring the world's conversion, even as He came o save it, and offered Himself as a propitiation for its sins, He seeks he union of the Church for its sake-the grateful spectacle for the ake of the glorious result, "That they all may be one,... that the world nay believe that Thou hast sent me." O, blessed Redeemer, shall we after such words dare to question Thy love for the world? Shall we dare to charge Thee with refusing to pray for the world? The world, whose conversion Thou didst so earnestly seek-the world, whose welfare was so dear to Thy heart-the world, for whose guilt Thou hast atoned -the world, for whose ransom Thy blood was shed? Do not Thy wounds plead for it? Does not Thy blood speak on its behalf? Are not the memorials of Thy death a perpetual intercession for the world which crucified Thee? Does not Thine incarnation and Thy poverty, Thine agony and bloody sweat, Thy cross and passion, Thy death and Jurial, Thy resurrection and exaltation, enforce the prayer which Thy ips uttered" That the world may believe that Thou didst send me "? I AM PER CONTRA. 66 BY THE AUTHOR OF an old deacon of a very old Baptist Church; and as I consider myself a fair specimen of a much abused and most useful class, and have been hearing a good deal lately about resisting devils and deacons, I want to have a word on the other side-per contra, as we SILVER SPRAY." may say. For fifty years, come next Christmas, I have stuck to our chapel, giving it time and money and prayers. Wet or dry, winter or summer, I have been at my post. During forty years of that time we had prosperity. Of course we didn't make much to confer blessings on them; but that they may share in His blessedness and glory. And King of kings as He is Lord of all worlds as He is -possessed of boundless resources, and of all power in heaven and earth as He is-He cannot do more for them than that. He has nothing better to give. In the boundless universe there is nothing so much to be desired as to witness and to share the glory of Him who made it. But neither is the world made the subject of this petition. And for this very good reason-that the world, as it is, is not prepared for it. The world as it is cannot enjoy the fellowship of saints. The world as it is is not fit for the society of the glorified. The world as it is could neither share in, nor appreciate, nor discern, the glory of Christ. The world must undergo a mighty transformation before it is fitted for that. It must, by faith in Christ, be made partaker of a new life. It must become possessed of a new character-of new tastes and new discernments must become the subject of a new creation. And hence, when His prayer ultimately contemplates the world, it asks the blessing most suited to it, just as it asked blessings suitable for the objects whom it previously embraced. The world's faith in Him would work in it the transformations which it required, and fit it for enjoy ing the blessings of the faithful. Moreover, that faith would bring it within the circle of His disciples, giving it the fitness and the right to enjoy all that He sought on their behalf. Believing first, and thereby being created anew, it would not only be admissible to the fellowship of the saints, but actually introduced into that fellowship-not only qualified for the future glory of the Lord, but by His grace entitled, and ultimately admitted, to its enjoyments. Thus His prayer for the world actually embraces all that is specified in His prayer for the others; inasmuch as it contemplates its being brought into the same state as the others. It only, with wise and discriminating love, postpones the enjoyment of these blessings, until by its conversion the world has been prepared for them. It does not exclude the world from any bles sing, but only seeks that the world may receive blessings when its state will render them such; and seeks first of all, therefore, that its state may be changed. It shows no want of love for the world; but a love as tender as it is boundless. It shows love both in its limitations and its comprehensiveness. All the love which embraces His friends reaches out its hand ultimately to bless the world; because it desires that the world may, through undergoing the necessary preparation, brought to enjoy all the blessings which He asks on behalf of those who believe in His name, and have consecrated their life to His service. be I might go further, and show that the conversion of the world is, as regards man, the ultimate object of His prayer for His disciples. He no doubt, desired their preservation for their own sake; for He loved them not only as creatures, but also both as His brethren and friends. He, no doubt, desired their union for its own sake; because He takes delight in the happiness which it promotes, and is pleased with the spectacle of brethren dwelling together in unity. He, no doubt, desired their sanctification for its own sake; for all pollution is repugnant, as purity is congenial, to His pure and spotless nature. But you will perceive that He also desires these blessings for His disciples, because of their bearing on the conversion of the world. Blessings sought for those who were already His disciples are closely linked together in His mind with the conversion of those who should afterwards believe on Him through their word. And more obviously the union of these future converts is linked with, and viewed, and sought, as the means of promoting the world's conversion, "That they all may be one, . . . that the world may believe that Thou hast sent me. So far, then, the conversion of the world, though not the only, is the ultimate, object of His prayer. Other blessings are sought, not simply because of what they are in themselves, but because of their fitness to promote this. His large benevolence desires nothing less than the conversion of the world. And His prescient mind, looking down the vista of the future, sees the glorious and grateful spectacle which the world has not witnessed yetbut shall witness, we trust and believe, before the end of time-of a united Church-one in faith and one in heart-promoting by the united force of its efforts and the beauty of its character the conversion of the world; and in desiring the world's conversion, even as He came to save it, and offered Himself as a propitiation for its sins, He seeks the union of the Church for its sake-the grateful spectacle for the sake of the glorious result, "That they all may be one,. that the world may believe that Thou hast sent me.' O, blessed Redeemer, shall we after such words dare to question Thy love for the world? Shall we dare to charge Thee with refusing to pray for the world? The world, whose conversion Thou didst so earnestly seek-the world, whose welfare was so dear to Thy heart-the world, for whose guilt Thou hast atoned -the world, for whose ransom Thy blood was shed? Do not Thy wounds plead for it? Does not Thy blood speak on its behalf? Are not the memorials of Thy death a perpetual intercession for the world which crucified Thee? Does not Thine incarnation and Thy poverty, Thine agony and bloody sweat, Thy cross and passion, Thy death and burial, Thy resurrection and exaltation, enforce the prayer which Thy lips uttered—“That the world may believe that Thou didst send me "? PER CONTRA. BY THE AUTHOR OF "SILVER SPRAY." I AM an old deacon of a very old Baptist Church; and as I consider myself a fair specimen of a much abused and most useful class, and have been hearing a good deal lately about resisting devils and deacons, I want to have a word on the other side-per contra, as we may say. For fifty years, come next Christmas, I have stuck to our chapel, giving it time and money and prayers. Wet or dry, winter or summer, I have been at my post. During forty years of that time we had prosperity. Of course we didn't make much noise, going like madmen shouting through the streets; we did everything decently and in order. Ten years ago last Whitweek, our old minister died (God bless him!) and then my sorrows began. Since then I have been called Achan in the camp; Judas who kept the bag; Diotrephes who loved the preeminence; and I don't know what else; till I am at a loss to recognise my own character when I see it; and this by a number of conceited young ministers who seem to think all the world was made for themselves, and that there is no place for the like of me. Now, I don't say I am perfect, or even a very amiable gentleman when provoked; but if you will listen you can judge for yourself if I am a disturber of the peace without cause. After our minister died, and a respectable time had elapsed, I proposed we should look for another of the same kind,-a steady, orthodox, holy man. But this would not suit the taste of the new generation, They clamoured for a young, unmarried, and popular minister, fresh from college, to fill the chapel and carry all before him. I reasoned with them, but it was of no use; they could outvote me. I yielded, and ere long behold we had the coming man! All the young were enraptured, so much so, that when I spoke of salary, and proposed the same as we had given to the old minister, they cried out against me, and an apprentice draper got up and moved he should have £50 more a-year. I opposed, because I knew it could not be raised; at least not by any quantity of such perpendicular puppies as the proposer, who would pass the offertory at the rate of three a penny. But I was beaten, and no wonder; for I have always observed that those who give least are the most forward in voting Church money. And the reverend gentleman came, in all the glory of broadcloth, white tie, and lavender kid gloves. He stayed at my house; but, what with his fine manners and learned words, he made us feel old fashioned and uncomfortable. I was glad when he went to his own place,-I mean his lodgings. For two Sundays there was quite a rush. All the front seats were crowded when. ever the doors were opened, mostly by young ladies, however. Of course I am an evil-minded Diotrephes, or else I should not have noticed that fact. Soon, however, the congrega tion became small by degrees, and ere long we were as when he came. I allowed this to go on for several months, hoping there would be some change; but there was none. Our funds also were in a very low condition. One day, after service, I was almost tired out counting halfpence and threepenny pieces, buttons, and bad silver, when the reverend gentleman came in to give me some orders, and took the opportunity of saying that if he meant to fulfil his promise of crowding the chapel in six months, he had better begin by visiting the people, preaching in the open air, and, above all, give us less rhetoric and fine gestures, and a good deal more of the simple gospel of Jesus Christ. He was highly indignant, drew on his lavenders, curled his little bit of a moustache, and said, "The pulpit is mine, and I am not to be dictated to by any purse. proud deacon!" "Oh, I beg your pardon, sir," I said; "I only wished to advise what I believed would do good." "I know well enough what I should do. As to visiting, I am not a mere missionary, but a pastor, and don't mean to go into all sorts of nasty places; if people don't come to hear me, I am not going to come to seek and save the lost;' but I suppose you are more advanced than He. If I mistake not, you would be both a humbler and more useful man if you had less of the ecclesiastic and more of your Master. Good morning." He went off in a passion, and in the evening sermon launched out a furious tirade against disturbers of the peace who interfered with the servants of God. When the time came for paying the reverend gentleman's salary, I was short by many pounds, and that in one quarter. Now, although I have money, yet I make it a rule never to lend the Church any of it, at least not for paying current expenses; and so I offered the new minister what had been raised. You should have seen his counten ance. 66 "Do you mean to insult me, sir? I must have all the money at once.' "No doubt," I answered; only the Church must give it me ere I can pay you.' "If the Church and you don't mind what you are doing, I shall resign.” This was said in the high and lofty style, as if all the world would go wrong if he did so. He passed his left hand through his hair, and looked daggers at me; when I quietly remarked, "That is your business, not mine!" He called a Church-meeting, which I attended; and after a long rigmarole about the honour due to ministers, hinted very plainly that there was some change needed among the Church officers, whose duty it was to raise money for all expenses. He then complained that his salary was behind, and asked what was to be done? They all looked to me, but I held my peace. Those who were most loud in voting the money were now dumb, and the meeting separated as it met. another month the reverend gentleman, having received a cordial and In unanimous invitation to a fashionable congregation, came to me and delivered himself of an insulting harangue, till I lost patience and showed him the door. He went away, and I, the Achan in the camp, remained behind to battle with the difficulties he had made. This was number one. Our next minister, who was also a young man, and not my choice, was a rough-and-ready youth who had been almost two years at a college. Previous to that he had been an ignorant, sensual lad; but no sooner was he converted than men equally as foolish as himself urged him to become a minister. He consented; and so, after a little theological whitewashing, he was sent to us as a dear brother in the Lord, whose labours had been signally blessed. Of course he was very popular for several Sundays; but when we had time to look at the youth, what was our amazement to find we had been cheated! His manners were clownish, his dress slovenly, his appearance uncouth, his preaching small talk, crammed full of stale anecdotes and small puns-very small-he was pumped dry in a month. Taking pity on the lad, I offered to lend him some books, and hinted he would do well to study a little and endeavour to get more learning. "Learning!" he said, scowling on poor Diotrephes; "learning; all the heresies in the world came from learned men-we have too much of that already. I can trust to the Holy Spirit, and don't require booklearning." "But surely, sir," I ventured to reply, "it would be well to speak grammatically and reason logically, and even to know the language in which the Holy Spirit wrote the Bible!" "I don't know whether it would or not. These things make men proud. Knowledge puffeth up!'' |