True Words for Brave Men

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But our giving way to the same selfish shameless passions, which we see
in the lower animals, is letting the "brute" in us conquer, is giving way
to the works of the flesh. The shameless and profligate person gives way
to the "brute" within him--the man who beats his wife--or ill-treats his
children--or in any wise tyrannises over those who are weaker than
himself, he too gives way to the "brute" within him. He who grudges,
envies, tries to aggrandise himself at his neighbour's expense--he too
gives way to the "brute" within him, and puts on the likeness of the dog
which snatches and snarls over his bone. He who spends his life in
cunning plots and mean tricks, stealthy, crafty, silent, false, he gives
way to the "brute" in him, just as much as the fox or ferret. And those,
let me say, who without giving way to those grosser vices, let their
minds be swallowed up with vanity, love of admiration, always longing to
be seen and looked at, and wondering what folks will say of them, they
too give way to the flesh, and lower themselves to the likeness of
animals. As vain as a peacock, says the old proverb. And shame it is to
any human being so far to forget his true humanity, as to have that said
of him. And what shall we say of them who like the swine live only for
eating and drinking, and enjoyment? Or what of those who like the
butterflies spend all their time in frivolous amusement, fluttering in
the sunshine, silly and helpless, without a sense of duty or usefulness,
without forethought for the coming frosts of winter, against which their
gay feathers would be no protection? Do not all these in some way or
other give way to the animal within them, and live after the flesh? And
do they not, all of them, of the flesh, reap corruption, and fulfil St.
Paul's words, "If ye live after the flesh ye shall die?"

But some one will say--"Die?--of course we shall all die--good and bad
alike." Is it so, my friends? Then why does our Lord say, "He that
liveth and believeth in me shall never die?" And why does St. Paul say,
"If ye through the spirit do mortify," that is crush, and as it were
kill, "the deeds of the body," all those low animal passions and vices,
"ye shall live."

Let us look at the text again. "If ye live after the flesh ye shall
die." If you give way to those animal passions and vices--low and
cruel--or even merely selfish and frivolous, you shall die; not merely
your bodies--they will die in any case--the animals do--for animals they
are, and as animals die they must. But over and above that--you
yourselves shall die--your character will die, your manhood or your
womanhood will die, your immortal soul will die. The likeness of God in
you will die. Oh, my friends, there is a second death to which that
first death of the body is a mere trivial and harmless accident--the
death of sin which kills the true man and true woman within you. And
that second death may begin in this life, and if it be not stopped and
cured in time, may go on for ever. The black horse of which I spoke just
now, may get the mastery and drag us down, down, into bogs out of which
we can never rise--over cliffs which we can never climb again--down lower
and lower--more and more foolish, more and more reckless, more and more
base, more and more wretched. And then there will be no more use in
saying, "The Lord have mercy on my soul," for we shall have no soul left
to have mercy on.

This is the dark side of the matter--a very dark one: but it has to be
spoken of, because it is true; and what is more, it comes true only too
often in this world. God grant, my dear friends, that it may not come
true of any of you.

But there is also a bright side to the matter--and on that I will speak
now, in order that this sermon may end, as such gospel sermons surely
should end, not with threats and fear, but with hope and comfort.

"If ye through the spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall
live." If you will be true to your better selves, if you will listen to,
and obey the spirit of God, when He puts into your hearts good desires,
and makes you long to be just and true, pure and sober, kind and useful.
If you will cast away and trample under foot animal passions, low vices,
you shall live. _You_ shall live. Your very soul and self shall live,
and live for ever. Your humanity, your human nature shall live. All
that is humane in you shall live. All that is merciful and kind in you,
all that is pure and graceful, all that is noble and generous, all that
is useful. All in you that is pleasant to yourselves shall live. All in
you that is pleasant to your neighbours. All in you that is pleasant to
God shall live. In one word, all in you that is like Christ--all in you
that is like God--all in you that is spirit and not flesh, shall live,
and live for ever. So it must be, for what says St. Paul? "As many as
are led by the spirit of God, they are the sons of God." Those who let
the spirit of God lead them upward instead of letting their own animal
nature drag them downward, they are the sons of God. And how can a son
of God perish? How can that which is like God and like Christ perish?
How can he perish, who like Christ is full of the fruits of the spirit?
of love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,
meekness, temperance? The world did not give them to him, and the world
cannot take them from him. They were not bestowed on him at his bodily
birth--neither shall they be taken from him at his bodily death--for
those blessed fruits of the spirit belong neither to the flesh nor to the
world, but to Christ's spirit, and to heaven--to that heaven in which
they dwell before the throne of God--yea, rather in the mind of God
Himself, the eternal forms of the truth, the beauty, the goodness--which
were before all worlds--and shall be after all worlds have passed away.

Oh! choose my friends, especially you who are young and entering into
life. Remember the parable of the old heathen, about the two horses who
draw your soul. Choose in time whether the better horse shall win, or
the worse; whether your better self, or your worse, the Spirit of God or
your own flesh, shall be your master--whether you will rise step by step
to heaven, or sink step by step to death and hell? And let no one tell
you. That is not the question. That is not what we care about. We know
we shall do a great many wrong things before we die. Every one does
that; but we hope we shall be able to make our peace with God before we
die, and so be forgiven at last.

My dear friends, that kind of religion has done more harm than most kinds
of _irreligion_. It tells you to take your chance of beginning at the
end--that is just before you die. Common sense tells you that the only
way to get to the end, is by beginning at the beginning, which is _now_.
Now is the accepted time. _Now_ is the day of salvation, and you are
accepted now, already, long ago.

What do you or any man want with making your peace with God? You are at
peace with God already. He has made His peace with you. An infinitely
better peace than any priest or preacher can make for you. _You are
God's child_. He looks down on you with boundless love. The great heart
of Christ, your King, your Redeemer, your elder brother, yearns over you
with boundless longing to draw you up to Him, that you may be noble as He
is noble, pure as He is pure, loving as He is loving, just as He is just.
Try to be that. God will at the last day take you as He finds you. Let
Him find you such as _that_--walking not after the flesh, but after the
Spirit; and then, and then only, there will be no condemnation for you,
for you will be in Christ Jesus. Do not--do not talk about making your
peace with God some day--like a naughty child playing truant till the
last moment, and hoping that the schoolmaster may forget to punish it.
No, I trust you have received the Spirit. If you have, then look facts
in the face. I trust that none of you have received the Spirit of
bondage, which is slavery again unto fear. If you have God's Spirit you
will see who you are, and where you are, and act accordingly--you will
see that you _are_ God's children, who are meant to be educated by the
Son of God, and led by the Spirit of God, and raised day by day, year by
year, from the death of sin, to the life of righteousness, from the
likeness of the brute animal, to the likeness of Christ, the Son of Man!

VIII. ST. PETER; OR, TRUE COURAGE.

"Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that
they were unlearned and ignorant men, they marvelled; and they took
knowledge of them, that they had been with Jesus. And they called
them, and commanded them not to speak at all nor teach in the name of
Jesus. But Peter and John answered and said unto them, Whether it be
right in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than unto God,
judge ye."--ACTS iv. 13, 18, 19.

I think that the quality, the grace of God, which St. Peter's character
and story specially forces on our notice is courage--the true courage
which comes by faith. The courage which comes by faith, I say. There is
a courage which does not come by faith. There is a brute courage which
comes from hardness of heart; from obstinacy, or anger, or stupidity,
which does not see danger, or does not feel pain. That is the courage of
the brute. One does not blame it or call it wrong. It is good in its
place, as all natural things are which God has made. It is good enough
for the brute; but it is not good enough for man. You cannot trust it in
man. And the more a man is what a man should be, the less he can trust
it. The more mind and understanding a man has, so as to be able to
foresee danger and measure it, the more chance there is of his brute
courage giving way. The more feeling a man has, the more keen he is to
feel pain of body, or pain of mind, such as shame, loneliness, the
dislike of ridicule, and the contempt of his fellow-men; in a word, the
more of a man he is, the more chance there is of his brute courage
breaking down, just when he wants it more to keep him up, and leaving him
to play the coward and come to shame.

Yes; to go through with a difficult or dangerous undertaking a man wants
more than brute courage. He wants spiritual courage, the courage which
comes by faith. He needs to have faith in what he is doing to be certain
that he is doing his duty--to be certain that he is in the right. To
give one example. Look at the class of men who in all England in times
of peace undergo the most fearful dangers; who know not at what hour of
any night they may not be called up to the most serious and hard labour
and responsibility, with the chance of a horrible and torturing death. I
mean the firemen of our great cities, than whom there are no steadier,
braver, nobler-hearted men. Not a week passes without one or more of
those firemen, in trying to save life and property, doing things which
are altogether heroic. What do you fancy keeps them up to their work?
High pay? The amusement and excitement of the fires? The vanity of
being praised for their courage? My friends, those would be but weak and
paltry motives, which would not keep a man's heart calm and his head
clear under such responsibility and danger as theirs.

No; it is the sense of duty. The knowledge that they are doing a good
and a noble work in saving the lives of human beings and the wealth of
the nation--the knowledge that they are in God's hands, and that no evil
can happen to him who is doing right--that to him even death at his post
is not a loss, but a gain. In short, faith in God, more or less clear,
is what gives those men their strong and quiet courage. God grant that
you and I, if ever we have dangerous work to do, may get true courage
from the same fountain of ghostly strength.

Yes; it is the courage which comes by faith which makes truly brave men,
men like St. Peter and St. John, who can say, "If I am right, God is on
my side, I will not fear what men can do unto me." "I will not fear,"
said David, "though the earth be moved, and the mountains carried into
the midst of the sea." The just man who holds firm to his duty will not,
says a wise old writer, "be shaken from his solid mind by the rage of the
mob bidding him do base things, or the frown of the tyrant who persecutes
him. Though the world were to crumble to pieces round him, its ruins
would strike him without making him tremble."

Such courage has made men, shut up in prison for long weary years for
doing what was right, endure manfully for the sake of some great cause,
and say--

"Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage,
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage.
If I have freedom in my thought,
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone that soar above
Enjoy such liberty."

Yes; settle it in your hearts, all of you. There is but one thing you
have to fear in heaven or earth--being untrue to your better selves, and
therefore untrue to God. If you will not do the thing you know to be
right, and say the thing you know to be true, then indeed you are weak.
You are a coward, and sin against God. And you will suffer the penalty
of your cowardice. You desert God, and therefore you cannot expect Him
to stand by you. But who will harm you if you be followers of that which
is right?

What does David say:--"Lord, who shall abide in thy tabernacle? who shall
dwell in thy holy hill? He that walketh uprightly, and worketh
righteousness, and speaketh the truth in his heart. He that backbiteth
not with his tongue, nor doeth evil to his neighbour, nor taketh up a
reproach against his neighbour. In whose eyes a vile person is
contemned; but he honoureth them that fear the Lord. He that sweareth to
his own hurt, and changeth not. He that putteth not out his money to
usury, nor taketh reward against the innocent. He that doeth these
things shall never be moved."--Psalm xv. 1-5. Yes, my friends, there is
a tabernacle of God in which, even in this life, He will hide us from
strife. There is a hill of God in which, even in the midst of danger,
and labour, and anxiety, we may rest both day and night--even Jesus
Christ, the Rock of Ages--He who is the righteousness itself, the truth
itself. And whosoever does righteousness and speaks truth, dwells in
Christ in this life, as well as in the life to come. And Christ will
give him courage to strengthen him by His Holy Spirit, to stand in the
evil day, the day of danger, if it shall come--and having done all to
stand.

Pray you then for the Spirit of Faith to believe really in God, and for
the spirit of ghostly strength to obey God honestly. No man ever asked
honestly for that Spirit but what he gained it at last. And no man ever
gained it but what he found the truth of St. Peter's own words--"Who will
harm you, if you be followers of what is good?"

IX. THE STORY OF JOSEPH.

"I fear God." GENESIS xlii. 18.

Did it ever seem remarkable to you, as it has seemed to me, how many
chapters of the Bible are taken up with the history of Joseph--a young
man who, on the most memorable occasion in his life, said "I fear God,"
and had no other argument to use?

Thirteen chapters of the book of Genesis are mainly devoted to the tale
of this one young man. Doubtless his father Jacob's going down into
Egypt, was one of the most important events in the history of the Jews:
we might expect, therefore, to hear much about it. But what need was
there to spend four chapters at least in detailing Joseph's meeting with
his brethren, even to minute accounts of the speeches on both sides?

Those who will may suppose that this is the effect of mere chance. Let
us have no such fancy. If we believe that a Divine Providence watched
over the composition of those old Scriptures; if we believe that they
were meant to teach, not only the Jews but all mankind; if we believe
that they reveal, not merely some special God in whom the Jews believed,
but the true and only God, Maker of heaven and earth; if we believe, with
St. Paul, that every book of the Old Testament is inspired by God, and
profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in
righteousness, that the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished
unto all good works--if we believe this, I say, it must be worth our
while to look carefully and reverently at a story which takes up so large
a part of the Bible, and expect to find in it something which may help to
make _us_ perfect, and thoroughly furnish _us_ unto all good works.

Now, surely when we look at this history of Joseph, we ought to see at
the first glance that it is not merely a story about a young man, but
about the common human relations--the ties which bind any and every man
to other human beings round him. For is it not a story about a brother
and brothers? about a son and a father, about a master and a servant?
about a husband and a wife? about a subject and a sovereign? and how they
all behaved to each other--some well and some ill--in these relations?

Surely it is so, and surely this is why the story of Joseph has been
always so popular among innocent children and plain honest folk of all
kinds; because it is so simply human and humane; and therefore it taught
them far more than they could learn from many a lofty, or seemingly
lofty, book of devotion, when it spoke to them of the very duties they
had to fulfil, and the very temptations they had to fight against, as
members of a family or as members of society. "One touch of Nature (says
the poet) makes the whole world kin;" and the touches of nature in this
story of Joseph make us feel that he and his brethren, and all with whom
he had to do, are indeed kin to us; that their duty is our duty too--their
temptations ours--that where they fell, we may fall--where they conquered
we may conquer.

For what is the story? A young lad is thrown into every temptation
possible for him. Joseph is very handsome. The Bible says so expressly;
so we may believe it. He has every gift of body and mind. He is, as his
story proves plainly, a very clever person, with a strange power of
making every one whom he deals with love him and obey him--a terrible
temptation, as all God's gifts are, if abused by a man's vanity, or
covetousness or ambition. He is an injured man too. He has been basely
betrayed by his brothers; he is under a terrible temptation, to which
ninety-nine men out of one hundred would have yielded--do yield, alas! to
this day, to revenge himself if he ever has an opportunity. He is an
injured man in Egypt, for he is a slave to a foreigner who has no legal
or moral right over him. If ever there was a man who might be excused
for cherishing a burning indignation against his oppressors, for brooding
over his own wrongs, for despairing of God's providence, it is Joseph in
Egypt. What could we do but pity him if he had said to himself, as
thousands in his place have said since, "There is no God, or if there is,
He does not care for me--He does not care what men do. He looks on
unmoved at wrong and cruelty, and lets man do even as he will. Then why
should not _I_ do as _I_ will? What are these laws of God of which men
talk? What are these sacred bonds of family and society? Every one for
himself is the rule of the world, and it shall be _my_ rule. Every man's
hand has been against _me_; why should not my hand be against every man?
_I_ have been betrayed; why should not _I_ betray? _I_ have been
opprest; why should not _I_ oppress? I have a lucky chance, too, of
enjoying and revenging myself at the same time; why should I not take my
good luck, and listen to the words of the tempter?"

My dear friends, this is the way in which thousands have talked, in which
thousands talk to this day. This is the spirit which ends in breaking up
society, as happened in France eighty years ago, in the inward corruption
of a nation, and at last, in outward revolution and anarchy, from which
may God in His mercy deliver us and our fellow-countrymen, and the
generations yet to come. But any nation or any man, will only be
delivered from it, as Joseph was delivered from it, by saying, "I fear
God." No doubt it is most natural for a man who is injured and opprest
to think in that way. Most _natural_--just as it is most natural for the
trapped dog to struggle vainly, and, in his blind rage, bite at
everything around him, even at his own master's hand when it offers to
set him free. And if men are to be mere children of nature, like the
animals, and not children of grace and sons of God, like Joseph, and like
one greater than Joseph, then I suppose they must needs tear each other
to pieces in envy and revenge, for there is nought better to be done. But
if they wish to escape from the misery and ruin which envy and revenge
bring with them, then they had better recollect that they are not
children of nature, but children of God--they had best follow Joseph's
example, and say, "I fear God."

For this poor, betrayed, enslaved lad had got into his heart something
above Nature--something which Nature cannot give, but only the
inspiration of the Spirit of God gives. He had got into his heart the
belief that God's laws were sacred things and must not be broken, and
that whatever befel him he must fear God. However unjust and lawless the
world looked, God's laws were still in it, and over it, and would avenge
themselves, and he must obey them at all risks. And what were God's laws
in Joseph's opinion?

These--the common relations of humanity between master to servant, and
servant to master; between parent to child, and child to parent; brother
to brother and sister to sister, and between the man who is trusted and
the man who trusts him. These laws were sacred; and if all the rest of
the world broke them, he (Joseph) must not. He was bound to his master,
not only by any law of man, but by the Law of God. His master trusted
him, and left all that he had in his hand, and to Joseph the law of
honour was the law of God. Then he must be justly faithful to his
master. A sacred trust was laid on him, and to be true to it was to fear
God.

After a while his master's wife tempts him. He refuses; not merely out
of honour to his master, but from fear of God. "How can I do this great
wickedness," says Joseph, "and sin against God?" His master and his
mistress are heathen, but their marriage is of God nevertheless; the vow
is sacred, and he must deny himself anything, endure anything, dare any
danger of a dreadful death, and a prison almost as horrible probably as
death itself, rather than break it.

So again, in the prison. If ever man had excuse for despairing of God's
providence, for believing that right-doing did _not_ pay, it was poor
Joseph in that prison. But no. God is with him still. He believes
still in the justice of God, the providence of God, and therefore he is
cheerful, active--he can make the best even of a dungeon. He can find a
duty to do even there; he can make himself useful, helpful, till the
keeper of the prison too leaves everything in his hand.

What a gallant man! you say. Yes, my friends, but what makes him
gallant? That which St. Paul says (in Hebrews xi.) made all the old
Jewish heroes gallant--faith in God; real and living belief that God
is--and that He is the rewarder of them that diligently seek Him.

At last Joseph's triumph comes. He has his reward. God helps
him--because he will help himself. He is made a great officer of state,
married to a woman of high rank, probably a princess, and he sees his
brothers who betrayed him at his mercy. Their lives are in his hand at
last. What will he do? Will he be a bad brother because they were bad?
Or will he keep to his old watchword, "I fear God?" If he is tempted to
revenge himself, he crushes the temptation down. He will bring his
brothers to repentance. He will touch their inward witness, and make
them feel that they have been wicked men. That is for their good. And
strangely, but most naturally, their guilty consciences go back to the
great sin of their lives--to Joseph's wrong, though they have no notion
that Joseph is alive, much less near them. "Did I not tell you," says
Reuben, "sin not against the lad, and ye would not hearken? Therefore is
this distress come upon us."

Joseph punishes Simeon by imprisonment. It may be that he had reasons
for it which we are not told. But when his brothers have endured the
trial, and he finds that Benjamin is safe, he has nothing left but
forgiveness. They are his brethren still--his own flesh and blood. And
he "fears God." He dare not do anything but forgive them. He forgives
them utterly, and welcomes them with an agony of happy tears. He will
even put out of their minds the very memory of their baseness. "Now,
therefore, be not grieved nor angry with yourselves that ye sold me
hither, he says; for God sent me before you, to save your lives with a
great deliverance."

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