The Fellowship of the Saints

They that feared the Lord spake one with another: and the Lord hearkened, and heard, and a book of remembrance was written before him, for them that feared the Lord, and that thought upon his name.—Malachi 3:16.

The Bible is rich in special encouragements for the dark and difficult day. Scattered all over its biographical pages are the portraits of the good men of unfavourable periods, made strong by grace to meet their trying surroundings, and not only to meet them and endure them, but to illuminate and bless them. The Psalms, in far the larger number of them, are, from the human side, just the “good thoughts in bad times” of sorely tried and tempted children of God. And the writings of the Prophets and of the Apostles may often be described, from the same human side, in the same terms. Here, in the last page of the Old Testament, we have not the prophets own utterance of this sort, but a very beautiful allusion to many such utterances around him; an allusion full of cheer, and full of teaching, for ourselves.

If ever there was a time when the outlook was dreary and sin abounded, when men had been almost justified in a policy of despair, it was the time when Nehemiah returned to Jerusalem to be governor for his second term, with the express object of making another effort to reform abuses, and when Malachi the prophet stood by his side. Gods love in the past, on which the prophet bases his remonstrance, had seemed to be all in vain. Not the wonders of Egypt, or of the Red Sea, or of the wilderness, or the preservation in Canaan, had been able to preserve the chosen people from a degrading fall. If the captivity in Babylon had sufficed to eradicate idolatry, it seemed to have had but little effect on the peoples worship of the true God or on their moral life. The prophet vigorously rebukes the priests, the natural guides of the people, as mainly responsible for the nations sins. “A son honoureth his father, and a servant his master: if then I be a father, where is mine honour? and if I be a master, where is my fear? saith the Lord of hosts unto you, O priests, that despise my name.” So little did they realize their responsibility or their guilt that they even asked, “Wherein have we despised thy name?” They had offered to God offerings which they would not dare offer to a civil governor. They had murmured at the smallness of their gains. They had brought blemished and diseased animals to the sacrifice. Disgrace and punishment were impending for their reiterated sins. And as with the priests so with the people. They had robbed God by withholding from Him tithes and offerings which were due. They had gone on in rebellion against His government. The cup of their impiety was full. And side by side with this desecration of holy things there were grievous moral disorders. They had taken in marriage worshippers of false gods, and put away their own lawful wives by an unrighteous divorce. The marriage tie was desecrated, and with it the sanctity of the home had gone. If ever there was a time when mens hearts might fail them it was now. Yet “the more the ungodly spake against God, the more these spake among themselves for God.”1 [Note: E. B. Pusey, The Minor Prophets.] So far from being daunted or discouraged by the badness of the times, they were driven the more to honour and meditate upon the holy name of God; and their common love for Him and fear of Him drew them together in sweet intercourse, so that they spoke to each other on the matters nearest to their hearts.

“They that feared the Lord,” he says, “spake one with another.” It was their surest means, by Gods grace, of resisting the temptations of their enemy, and so it is ours. It was the greatest earthly blessing of their lives, and so it is of ours. An earthly blessing indeed it ought scarcely to be called; for it reaches from earth to heaven. The Communion of Saints which is begun here will go on for ever and ever; only that, whereas now they who fear the Lord speak to one another of Him, hereafter He will Himself join their company, and they shall be one in Him and in the Father.

The Authorized Version reads, “They that feared the Lord spake often one to another”; but the word “often” is omitted in the Revised Version, and does not occur in the original. It is one of those words that seem to add to, but in reality detract from, the meaning of the text. “Spake often one to another” admits of gaps in the fellowship. “Spake one with another” tells the whole story of their communication, for it marks the attitude rather than the occupation of a life. “They spake one with another.” It is the great statement of fellowship, of the gathering together in a community of hearts holding the same treasure, of characters that were growing into the same likeness; it is the statement of a great necessity; darkness all around, light becomes focussed; evil spreading its ramifications on every hand, children of righteousness come close together.

I

The Persons

Who were they? They are characterized by two phrases: (1) “They that feared the Lord”; (2) “and that thought upon his name.”

1. “They that feared the Lord”—those who had been brought to know Him as the sin-hating and sin-avenging God, to know Him as Him whose very nature it is to abhor sin, being of purer eyes than to behold evil or look upon iniquity. Every truth of revelation concurs in giving us those views of God and of ourselves which are suited to produce this reverential fear. Look at the universal dominion and the infinite holiness ascribed to God everywhere in His Word; must not these overawe the mind when brought to a proper and intelligent apprehension of them? Must they not lead the soul to reverential fear of the Divine majesty, holiness, and glory? Will not the result be that solemn awe, humble adoration, and jealous circumspection characteristic of the gracious soul, which lead him to act habitually as in the presence of the all-seeing and heart-searching God, and cause him to fear the frown, and desire the favour of God above everything else?

In the opening note of the Divine complaint, the prophet said: “A son honoureth his father, and a servant his master; if then I be a father, where is mine honour? and if I be a master, where is my fear?” Here is a company that have “feared the Lord,” and have “thought upon his name”; so that amid all the mass of people who had lost the sense of fear of their Master, there was an Elect Remnant, a select few, who not only called Him “Master,” but also feared Him. The thought of fear is linked, then, with the word “master,” and with all that that word implies. If we speak of a master, we at once think of a servant; and while the relationship of the master to the servant is that of authority and will and guidance, the relation of the servant to the master is that of obedience and service. Bearing this in mind, we notice that service is looked upon here rather as condition than as action. Character is marked in this word, “They that feared the Lord”; they that lived within the conscious realm of the Divine, and responded to that claim; that number of units in the great crowd who recognized the Divine Kingship, not merely as theory, or as something of which they made a boast to other people, but as the power in which they lived their lives and spent all their days: “They feared the Lord.” There were men and women all around making offerings, and crowding the courts of the Temple at the hour of worship. Among those who came, God detected the men and women who really feared, and He selected only the gifts of those who presented something—not as an attempt to make up what they lacked in character, but as an output of character, and as a revelation of what they were within themselves. “They feared the Lord.”

Another expression for that inward submission in which we commune with God is “the fear of God.” To the Christian this fear is not a momentary horror at the mysterious power that is over his life. It is always possible for the creature moved by its love of life to escape from this emotion into renewed calm forgetfulness of God. But the Christian fear of God is rather that deep and joyful acknowledgment of God as the only mighty and living One, which we may and ought always to feel. “It is thus we must understand the fear mentioned in the Scriptures; it does not denote a fear or a terror lasting for an instant, but it is our whole life and being, walking in reverence and awe before God” (Luther, Erlangen edition, xxxiv. 174). “What we, following the Scriptures, call the fear of God, is not terror or dread, but an awe that holds God in reverence, and that is to remain in a Christian, just as a good child fears its father” (Luther, xvii. 349). Thus the Christians fear of God is the reverence of the child for that Father within whose mighty care it feels itself still sheltered. The Christian fears the Father whom he recognizes in Christ, “not on account of the pain and punishment, as unchristian men and the devil fear Him” (Luther, lvii. 56), but because he sees before his eyes the actual power of God giving him blessing; and he fears to take one step beyond the sphere of that blessed power “as a good child fears, and will not arouse, its fathers anger, or do anything that might not please him” (Luther, li. 365). Here again we see that the communion of man with God can take place only as an experience caused in the man by God Himself. For any one can work up for himself those feelings of horror that arise from a sense of inevitable dependence on a power we dread; and such feelings are to be found, too, in any Christian life, for no Christian is perfect; but, on the other hand, that fear of God which looks at God Himself, and is therefore true communion with Him, arises only in the soul that experiences the emancipating power of the Gospel amid contact with the Christian brotherhood, through Christian training, custom, and preaching. But it is only complete when we have found in Christ the God that draws back to Himself even those who feel deeply estranged from Him by the sense of their own guilt. Inward trembling before the holy power of the Good can never cease to be part of mans communion with God. If we cease to fear God, we have lost our inward relation to Him. The communion of the Christian with God never succeeds in overcoming the inner opposition between fear and love.1 [Note: W. Herrmann, The Communion of the Christian with God, 270.]

2. “And that thought upon his name.” That name, with all the solemn and reverential fear it created in their souls, was still to them an object of intense delight. It was to them as ointment poured forth. The defence of its honour and glory became to them their greatest concern, the prime object, the regulating principle and motive of their whole life. Hence they thought upon it. It was ever present to them. When others spent their time in madly rushing after pleasure and earthly enjoyment, in seeking what to eat, drink, and put on, these sought the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, prayerfully planned and devised how they could best further the interests of the one, and secure for themselves and others the priceless blessings of the other. Where others found the service of God grievous and tiresome, a service of which they could only say that in it they afflicted their souls, and walked mournfully before God, because they had no delight in it, no sympathy of heart with its sacred duties, these found it a season of special enjoyment, a season of high festival and pleasure, a time in which they drew waters with joy from the wells of salvation. They joyed to go up to the house of God, to think upon His name and to inquire in His holy place, because there they had seen His glory, and had their souls fed with the finest of the wheat.

What a name that was on which they thought may be gathered from a study of the titles associated therewith in the mind of the Hebrew: Jehovah-Jireh—The Lord will provide; Jehovah-Tsidkenu—The Lord our righteousness; Jehovah-Shalom—The Lord send peace; Jehovah-Nissi—The Lord our banner; Jehovah-Shammah—The Lord is there. If we search the matter out for ourselves, we shall find that these people had a marvellous heritage in the name of Jehovah. He had revealed Himself by names continually, and there had been along the line of their history new beauty, new glory, perpetually breaking out by means of those very names by which God had approached them time after time. These people thought upon the name of the Lord—of His provision for them, His righteousness, His banner, the proof of love in His conflict with sin, His presence—and, thinking of these things, their nature was transformed into correspondence with His own, so that they became righteous, and they became peaceful, and they became quiet in the presence of their faithful God.

They had the sublimest subject of contemplation. “His name”—boundless Power—eternal right—wisdom that cannot err and needs not to amend its plans—truth dazzling in its lustrous brightness—goodness essential and rejoicing in its own manifestations—love, fathomless, unsearchable, draining its own heart and pouring out its life-blood in sacrifice for the lost world—these are the glorious letters which spell out “his name”; and upon these they think and ponder, intenter than rapt student of the mysteries of Isis—more absorbed than decipherer of cabalistic lore. “That thought upon his name,” and by the thought were lifted from the common to the royal, were enraptured and transformed; “that thought upon his name,” until they heard it inspoken, and their whole being thrilled beneath the syllables of its grace and power—“merciful and gracious, long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth”; “that thought upon his name,” until, assimilated by the wondrous meditation, they felt the fingers of the forming hand writing it upon their own hearts—the new name—and rejoiced, in that, their second and inner christening, “with joy unspeakable and full of glory.”1 [Note: W. M. Punshon, Sermons, ii. 279.]

The word “thought” is one of intense meaning, and I should like to trace it in one or two passages of Scripture in order that we may more clearly understand it.

In the 17th verse of the 13th chapter of Isaiah we read: “Behold, I will stir up the Medes against them, which shall not regard silver; and as for gold, they shall not delight in it.” The only purpose for which we have turned to this verse is that we may extract the word “regard” from it, and see how it is used in this particular case. The Medes will not “regard” silver—that is to say, that they will set no value on silver. The Medes, stirred up against the ancient people of God, will not be bought off by silver. They do not set any value upon it, they do not “regard” it. The connection between this thought and that of our text is centred in the fact that the Hebrew word translated “think” in Malachi is exactly the same word which is translated “regard” in Isaiah. They thought upon His name, they regarded His name, they set a value upon His name.

Take another case in which the same word is again translated “regard.” Isaiah 33:8, “The highways lie waste, the wayfaring man ceaseth: he hath broken the covenant, he hath despised the cities, he regardeth no man.” That is, he sets no value upon man. The word is identical with that translated in Malachi: “They that thought upon the Lord”—that is to say, what these people did not do concerning man, the Elect Remnant did concerning God. I do not say there is any connection between these passages; we are simply getting the light of them upon a particular word in our present study. They regarded God, they set a value upon Him. In the terrible day described by Isaiah the personal man was not regarded, he was accounted as “nothing worth,” valueless; but this Elect Remnant set regard upon the name of the Lord; they did for that name what the Medes did not do for silver, and what was not done for man in the days of which Isaiah writes.

In the same prophecy a very remarkable case occurs. Isaiah 53:3 : “He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.” “Esteemed” is the word; it is the same Hebrew word translated “thought” in Malachi. You see the word again almost more wonderfully presented here than in other instances. “We esteemed him not.” We thought nothing of Him; we set no value upon Him; His worth in our sight was nothing, and we spurned Him from us. He came to His own, and they received Him not; they perceived no beauty in Him that they should desire Him. But the Elect Remnant esteemed the name of the Lord; they “thought upon his name”—they set a high value thereon.

To follow this thought a little further in order that we may get additional light upon it, turn to the letter of Paul to the Php 4:8 : “Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.” The Greek word translated “think” here is a word which means “Take an inventory.” What are the things of which men, as a rule, take an inventory? Things which they value; and Paul, in writing, is practically saying, “Do not reckon as riches things perishing; but those things which make you rich indeed, the things which are true, honest, just, pure, lovely, of good report, take an inventory of these, keep your mind upon them, set a value upon them.” In the Septuagint the translators have taken this word which Paul uses and have used it in the three cases in Isaiah—to which we have already referred—so that when you read, “These men thought on the name of the Lord,” it is not a matter of little moment; they did not simply meditate upon His name, and meet together to endeavour to comprehend its deep riches. All this I believe they did; but their position as described by this word is far more wonderful than that. It is that they set value upon the name of the Lord, esteemed it, made an inventory in it, accounted it as their property, wealth, riches. It was the chief thing; nothing else was worth consideration to these faithful people. They took an inventory in the name of the Lord.1 [Note: G. Campbell Morgan, “Wherein?” 74.]

II

Their Motives

What are the motives which lead to Christian fellowship? Four may be mentioned.

1. The first is the intense love and interest begotten in us when once the facts of redemption have taken possession of our heart. We profess to believe that “God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” If we really believe it, is it conceivable that we can speak freely of the weather, of events of our day, of politics, of commerce, of literature, of science, and can absolutely close our lips on the one topic which is not of time but of eternity? Is there not something faulty if we cannot enjoy Christian intercourse with congenial souls such as may lead to our doing greater honour to Gods most holy name?

Whilst man is by nature a social being, it is only in the possession of a common religious life that the social principle and spirit find their highest expression and their unrestricted development. The need for friendly intercourse and fellowship is chiefly and most intensely felt in connection with the deepest and strongest feelings and aspirations and convictions of the soul; and there are no feelings or experiences which so vitally affect us as those of the religious life. Religious friendship and religious communion may, in truth, be claimed as almost essential to the culture and growth of personal religion. As a matter of fact and of history, religion has always shown itself as a social bond; in its higher and purer and more ethical forms, in particular, it has established and fostered, more or less fully, the sentiment of brotherhood among those who held a common faith and who aspired and struggled towards the same ideals. In the case of those who acknowledge in Christ the supreme revelation of the Divine, this has been an outstanding characteristic.

We all are servants of one Master, Christ;

Bound by one law, redeemed by one love,

And every brow sealed with the self-same print

Of blessèd brotherhood.1 [Note: J. M. Hodgson, Religion: The Quest of the Ideal, 95.]

2. The second motive is the truth of the Body of Christ. If each one of us is a member of Christ, is it conceivable that he has nothing to receive from other members? Look at the colours of the rainbow. Their beauty lies in their harmony. Is it not so in the Body of Christ? Surely each one of us has been made with some distinct idea in the mind of God, and to reflect some special ray of Divine light. It is only when these rays are combined that we have any real idea of the manifold wisdom of God. In every parish or community there is an exquisite variety of gift, of development, of power. Take any one body of men, and you will find a variety of spiritual gifts in them. Enlarge the field, and take the whole community—village, town, school, university—and you will find a greater variety still. Enlarge still further, and take in the whole Church of Christ, and it becomes evident at once that the gifts of the whole body are needed if the kingdoms of this world are to become the kingdoms of our Lord and of His Christ. A selfish, isolated religion, which contents itself with drawing stores from heaven for itself, as though it had no relation, either in giving or in receiving, with other men, is so spurious a form of Christianity that the very stores which it draws are likely to be corrupted. Only as we “speak one with another” under conditions laid down for us in the Word of God have we due security for the preservation of our own faith amid the temptations of the world and for the transmission of our heritage to successive and ever-increasing generations.

All saints that are united to Jesus Christ their Head, by His Spirit, and by faith, have fellowship with Him in His graces, sufferings, death, resurrection, and glory; and, being united to one another in love, they have communion in each others gifts and graces, and are obliged to the performance of such duties, public and private, as do conduce to their mutual good, both in the inward and outward man. Saints by profession are bound to maintain an holy fellowship and communion in the worship of God; and in performing such other spiritual services as tend to their mutual edification; as also in relieving each other in outward things according to their several abilities and necessities. Which communion, as God offereth opportunity, is to be extended unto all those who in every place call upon the name of the Lord Jesus.1 [Note: Westminster Confession of Faith, chap. xxvi.]

3. A third motive is corresponding spiritual experiences. Every student of his own heart has been amazed and delighted to discover the harmony of religious feelings which exists throughout the Church. As the veteran has revealed the history of his struggles, the juvenile soldier has felt his heart quivering with the sensations so graphically described by the aged warrior; as the thoughtful Christian has propounded his difficulties, how often have we felt them to be the very difficulties which have perplexed and disquieted our own minds; and as we have listened to the statement of the distractions which have marred and enfeebled the devotions of others, we have felt that the same shadow has stretched over our own altar and prevented our view of the Saviours benignant countenance.

Religious life has a large element of feeling, and our feelings have a greater value when they are shared. They then become real sources of insight. We need to feel the common joy or grief in order to understand fully their inner meaning. The interaction of doing and feeling is a matter of very great practical importance. There is a danger of giving too great a predominance to Christian emotion. It is a very blessed thing to enjoy the feelings that can be evoked by the sharing of Christian experience; but the consequences of allowing ourselves the luxury of deep and strong emotions which evaporate without having produced any worthy effective action have often been pointed out by the psychologist. If we want to feel the joy and blessedness of the deepest common emotion, we ought to give very much more prominence to the life of common action. If we can work together for the things of the Kingdom, if we can combine to give a good and effective witness for Christ, and share with each other the toil, the patience, the disappointments, and the successes of common activity, we may then safely allow ourselves to taste to the full the blessedness of those deep emotional experiences which we have been taught to prize so highly.1 [Note: W. Bradfield, Personality and Fellowship, 195.]

4. The fourth motive is one which is suggested by a knowledge of human nature. It is notorious that in every condition of life there are those who are stronger and those who are weaker. Some are born to lead, others seem bound to depend on those who are stronger than themselves. If so, is it not criminal if we keep to ourselves the Divine gift of strength, and refuse to give of our knowledge and experience to some weaker brother, or refuse to receive what some brother or sister has to impart to us?

Throughout life Darwin was subject to violent paroxysms of pain, which often occasioned great alarm to his friends. He was never able to work consecutively for more than twenty minutes without interruption from these infirmities, which so enfeebled him that even a brief journey to London was exhausting. Burdened with extraordinary difficulties, he achieved his results by the exercise of the sternest resolution. His modesty was almost a weakness; and when he confessed, with touching simplicity, that he believed he had acted rightly in steadily following and devoting himself to science, those who revered him knew not which to admire the more, his great gifts or his incurable humility. He was fortunate in his friendships. The names of Wallace, Hooker, Scrope, and Lyell are associated with his fame; and the really impressive worth of these men was not so much their intellectual greatness as the grandeur of character, the unexampled forbearance, and the mutual assistance which distinguished them as coadjutors in a notable cause. Some votaries of science have shown themselves disastrously prejudiced and jealous; they have been more anxious for the priority of their personal claims than for the purity of their motive or the progress of knowledge. But this band of giants dwelt in a fellowship marred by no regrettable incidents, and strove toward the attainment of a great ideal, hand in hand and conjoined in heart, in honour preferring one another.1 [Note: S. P. Cadman, Charles Darwin and Other English Thinkers, 38.]

III

The Occasions

What are the occasions on which Christian fellowship may be enjoyed?

1. They who fear the Lord may be said, most truly and most safely, to speak one to another when they perform in Gods presence their solemn acts of worship. Would that we might oftener see those infallible signs of hearts engaged, the fixed earnest look, the humble reverent posture, the hearty response, the united Amen, which we do witness with thrilling joy on those rare occasions when our thoughts are specially solemnized for the work of worship! We have the firm assurance that God is then effectually present, softening, humbling, and elevating the minds of His servants.

One purpose which seems essentially involved in the possession of spiritual Christianity is the bearing witness for Christ. Those who, by the gift of the Holy Ghost, are clad in spiritual power are thus made mighty that they may be “witnesses unto God.” This would seem to necessitate an organized system of testimony. The witness cannot be fully given either in the words of acknowledgment or in the deep heart-affection which prompts to the holy life. There must be palpable and public dedication—not only the understanding enlightened and the heart transformed, but new companionships to supersede the old, not only the head filled with the truth and the heart warmed with its omnipotence of love, but the hand cordial in its grasp and greeting for those who have received like precious faith and power. Disciples of the spirit of Nicodemus—with less excuse than he—may endeavour, under the shadows of the night, to come to Jesus; but their cowardice dishonours the Master, and enfeebles their own souls. Though the spirit of active persecution slumbers, no age of the world will be without its “Pharisees” who hinder; and the brand would be as disgraceful now as when it was originally affixed upon the recreant hearts of old—“Among the chief rulers also many believed on him; but because of the Pharisees they did not confess him, lest they should be put out of the synagogue: for they loved the praise of men more than the praise of God.” In some great rallying time of patriotism, the trusted men are not those who trim between opposing parties as the balance of interest inclines, and whose defection would surprise neither the one nor the other. In some Thermopylae of a nations liberties, or some Marathon of its triumph, they are the crowned if they live; and, if they fall, they are inurned amid a countrys tears, who “look proudly to Heaven from the death-bed of fame.” There is no armour for the back in the Christians panoply Divine; and they are the trusted soldiers in Immanuels army who are not stragglers on a foray, or free-lances in a guerilla warfare, but resolute bands in the sacramental host which is marshalled for the conquest of the world.

The marching orders of the spiritual world are often stern enough, as stern sometimes, and as seeming hopeless, as those for the Balaclava charge, or of a forlorn hope.

Here, again, let us turn to our New Testament. We get a glimpse there of lifes marching orders as they were interpreted by one of its chief characters. Have we grumblers, comfortably housed meanwhile, with families and friends, with incomes, with all our easy securities, ever tried to picture to ourselves the actual state of things which Paul describes as his daily condition? “In journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by mine own countrymen, in perils by the heathen … in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness!” And this career winds up in the Roman prison, and then, if report speaks truly, as one of Neros victims, going out as one of those human flambeaux set alight to illuminate his gardens. Plainly not much provision for the human comforts here! And yet the man was content and joyful. He was a soldier on the march, Gods soldier, with Gods orders in his mind, and Gods comfort in his soul. And these are the marching orders for you and for me. They have been good enough for millions of souls, who have been happy in the possession of them; happy, not from fancy conjunctions of prosperous circumstances, but because they felt themselves to be here to become what God would have them be, and to accomplish what God would have them do.1 [Note: J. Brierley, Faiths Certainties (1914), 17.]

2. Still, we must in this life ever be more closely attached to some particular Christians than to others; and the number of every mans dear and intimate friends must of necessity be small. Yet it is to these that the words of the text especially apply: “They that feared the Lord spake one with another.” This should be true of the society of Christians in general: but it is, and ought to be, much more so of those who take sweet counsel together, and are bound to one another by the closest ties of personal friendship. It can hardly be told how great is their loss who know not the comfort of Christian friends: in youth, more particularly, he who is without them loses the most powerful earthly instrument by which he is saved from temptation, and encouraged to good. Parents or teachers can do little in comparison; because the difference of age deprives what they say of much of its weight, and destroys at the same time that equality which makes the influence of a friend so much less suspected, and listened to, therefore, so much more readily. Equality of age and similarity in outward circumstances, draw men most closely to one another, and therefore give them additional opportunities for becoming fully acquainted with each others characters. Friends are sharers together in each others amusements and pleasures; they are together in those hours of free and careless mirth which the presence of persons of a different age would instantly check. At such times every ones experience can inform him how easily mirth may be turned into sin; how easily the heart may be hardened, and the conscience dulled by the conversation and example of unchristian associates. Whereas Christian friends gain strength, and impart it to one another in the very midst of their temptations, and even of their falls. Growth in grace is ever gradual: and Christians in their youth are somewhat like the good men who lived in the earlier ages, or in what may be called the youth of the world: that is, their consciences are less enlightened than they become at a more advanced age; they are less exalted in their notions of what they should not do, and of what Christ would love to find in them. There is much, therefore, in their lives that requires amendment: but, if they are Christians in earnest, they gradually lead one another on to higher views; a knowledge of their mutual faults makes them unreserved to each other; they are not afraid of saying all that is in their hearts; they make known to each other their particular difficulties and temptations; they feel that they are engaged in the same struggle; and each is often able to give assistance to the other on one point, whilst in others he may himself require to be aided in his turn. So they go on from strength to strength, till they come together in maturer years to a more advanced state of Christian obedience: with natural faults repressed or subdued, with more enlarged views of the wisdom of God in Christ Jesus, and a more enlightened sense of the claims which God has upon the entire devotion of their hearts to His service.

No doubt it requires a very genuine humility for some men to anticipate getting any good from the company of people who have not been blessed with their own educational or social privileges, but it is one of the cases where assuredly God gives grace to the humble. Many a Christian saint can testify that he has received, and, so far as he is able to judge, received far more than he has given, from fellowship with some apparently extremely unlikely person into whose company he has been thrown, and with whom he has talked and prayed about the things of God.1 [Note: W. Bradfield, Personality and Fellowship, 174.]

In a letter that she wrote in 1873 to Mr. J. W. Cross, whom she married after the death of George Henry Lewes, George Eliot showed how strong her feeling for religion and her craving for spiritual fellowship had become. “All the great religions of the world,” she writes, “historically considered, are rightly the objects of deep reverence and sympathy. They are the record of spiritual struggles, which are the types of our own. This is to me pre-eminently true of Hebrewism and Christianity, on which my own youth was nourished. And in this sense I have no antagonism towards any religious belief, but a strong overflow of sympathy. Every community, met to worship the highest good (which is understood to be expressed by God) carries me along with its current; and if there were not reasons against my following such an inclination, I should go to church or chapel constantly, for the sake of the delightful emotions of fellowship which come over me in religious assemblies—the very nature of such assemblies being the recognition of a binding belief or spiritual law which is to lift us into a willing obedience and save us from the slavery of unregulated passion or impulse.”1 [Note: Life of George Eliot, by J. W. Cross, ii. 365.]

The last of his Church Congress papers, that on The Communion of Saints, seems peculiarly associated with Peterborough, and is published in a volume of Peterborough Sermons. The subject, too, is one so very dear to himself. He had an extraordinary power of realizing this Communion. It was his delight to be alone at night in the great Cathedral, for there he could meditate and pray in full sympathy with all that was good and great in the past. I have been with him there on a moonlight evening when the vast building was haunted with strange lights and shades, and the ticking of the great clock sounded like some giants footsteps in the deep silence. Then he had always abundant company. Once a daughter in later years met him returning from one of his customary meditations in the solitary darkness of the chapel at Auckland Castle, and she said to him, “I expect you do not feel alone?” “Oh no,” he said, “it is full,” and as he spoke his face shone with one of his beautiful smiles.2 [Note: A. Westcott, Life and Letters of Brooke Foss Westcott, i. 312.]

The Fellowship of the Saints

Literature

Arnold (T.), Sermons, i. 181, 190.

Arnold (T. K.), Sermons Preached in a Country Village, 143.

Bell (C. D.), The Name above Every Name, 85.

Blackwood (A.), Christian Service, 127.

Brown (J. B.), The Sunday Afternoon, 20, 29.

Burrows (H. W.), Parochial Sermons, iii. 241.

De Quetteville (P. W.), Short Studies on Vital Subjects, 122.

Jacob (E.), in Oxford University Sermons, 368.

Little (H. W.), Arrows for the Kings Archers, No. 44.

Macaskill (M.), A Highland Pulpit, 15.

Merson (D.), Words of Life, 289.

Moule (H. C. G.), Thoughts for the Sundays of the Year, 117.

Parker (J.), Sermons (Cavendish Pulpit), No. 18.

Pierson (A. T.), The Making of a Sermon, 167.

Punshon (W. M.), Sermons, ii. 267.

Randolph (B. W.), The Threshold of the Sanctuary, 43.

Robertson (F. W.), Sermons, iv. 200.

Thomas (J.), Myrtle Street Pulpit, iv. 81.

Vaughan (C. J.), Memorials of Harrow Sundays, 324.

Vaughan (J.), Sermons (Brighton Pulpit), New Ser., xvii. (1879), No. 1

Christian World Pulpit, lxiv. 33 (J. G. Greenhough).

Literary Churchman, xxxii. (1886) 376 (E. J. Hardy).

Religious Conversation

They that feared the Lord spake one with another: and the Lord hearkened, and heard, and a book of remembrance was written before him, for them that feared the Lord, and that thought upon his name.—Malachi 3:16.

It is the tendency of our time to decry what is called religious conversation. It is in great disrepute with those who desire to be thought sensible men; and, as a matter of fact, it has become almost extinct, except in certain narrow circles, where it survives (for the most part) in a form by no means calculated to attract others towards it.

I

The Opportunities

Many of those who must fail in making religious conversation profitable have yet a good object in view in their attempts to cherish it. They have felt that it is a strange thing, and one not altogether seemly, that people who are bent upon the same pursuit—truth, holiness, and salvation, their own and that of others—should never give the slightest indication to each other in word that this is so; should never allude, in the presence of their best and nearest friends, to that which is their chief hope and highest interest; should be content to talk as if this chief concern had no existence for them, and be as much ashamed of having its existence in them discovered as if it were something discreditable or degrading. They have felt that there must be a fault somewhere, if this state of things is unavoidable and irremediable. They have observed how different was the conduct, in this respect, of the early Christians; how they, in their briefest letters upon the commonest subjects, and much more therefore in their private oral communications with those who shared in the same feeling, could not refrain from constant allusions to things spiritual and eternal: and they have painfully felt how much they are losing, day by day, both of assistance and of comfort, from a total silence, in the presence of experienced and Christian men, upon a point on which they so much need and would be so deeply thankful for either advice or encouragement.

(1) Many a young man would be really grateful if, without any attempt at undue influence, without any assumption of superior position, with the exquisite sympathy that is born of God, and comes from the live coal from the altar having touched his own lips, an elder brother would speak straight out to a younger brother from time to time on the love of God in Christ Jesus and the things of the world to come. Sometimes at an early stage a shipwreck of faith or life might be avoided by the tactful and judicious friendship of one who has himself a firm hold of the Rock of Ages.

(2) But this “speaking one with another,” may be not merely as between older and younger men, but as between equals, contemporaries, friends. Would not light be thrown upon many a passage of the Word of God which has never been realized, on many a difficulty in life, if, without cant and unreality, one could just simply speak on spiritual matters with a friend?

John Wesley saw the need of this when he set on foot the class system which has been the strength, even if sometimes the weakness, of Methodism; and I plead that the Church of England should supply what is needed for her children without forcing them to seek outside her ranks the Christian fellowship for which they hanker. Classes or meetings for the study of the Word of God, conferences on the lessons of Church history, discussions on Christian missions with a view to learning and teaching in turn what God is doing in other parts of the world—all this, if carried out with prayer and as a downright spiritual work, would be found further to illustrate this principle of Christian intercourse. Its special methods will vary, but the thing itself can be ignored only at our peril.1 [Note: E. Jacob, in Oxford University Sermons, 380.]

People are unwilling to talk about religion because it seems almost a profanity. They cannot bear to expose their most sacred feelings at all. They could not find words to utter reverently and truly “thoughts too deep for words.” All the tact and wisdom the Holy Spirit gives are indeed needed here. For the holy things ought not to be flung to the dogs. It is only in the most sacred confidence of friendship that the best things can be said. There is, moreover, a danger (and what precious thing is not dangerous?) of an over-exposed conscience becoming callous and blatant. Most Christians in most churches have been stopped by these dangers so far as actual personal conversation with each other is concerned. Some have left the talking to the minister in the pulpit. People can listen in company to what they could not bear to have said to them direct; and, stranger still, a man can speak out to a great congregation heart secrets that he could not sit in his study and tell to his dearest friend. Some, again, have left the talking to be done in confession in the presence of God under the seal of absolute secrecy. Some have waited till they found a friend who made confidence possible; while others have found themselves able to tell their heart to an entire stranger whom they thought they would never meet again.

The matter is so vital to religious progress that we must at all costs cling to our dearly-won habit of talking to one another about religious experience, and, therefore, must encourage people to begin to do so when they first begin to share the Christian life. Certainly it is easier for them to do so then than it ever will be later. There is an instinct to open the heart and trust others at first, the power of which fades quite away if it is suppressed.1 [Note: W. Bradfield, Personality and Fellowship, 190.]

II

The Topics

What was the subject of their discourse? The worlds politics, and the worlds pleasures? The last entertainment, or the latest scandal? The newest book, or the latest fashion? It is interesting to note how every age is but a repetition of the last. Men in those days had their feasts, where the viol and the tabret and the harp played an important part, and where they sat over their wine until they had redness of eyes; and they would no doubt then, as now, hold up the glass to the light, and praise its amber or ruby colour, commending its bouquet and flavour, and speaking of the vintage whence it came. And over the wine they would talk of the sports and games, the feastings and pleasures of the hour, and many a jest would go round the board, followed by laughter and glee. Was it of such things as these that “they that feared the Lord” spoke when they met together, “and the Lord hearkened and heard”? Women had in those days their ornaments, “their cauls, and round tires like the moon, their chains, and bracelets, and mufflers; their bonnets and broad bands, and tablets and earrings, their rings, and changeable suits of apparel; their mantles, and wimples, and crisping pins, their glasses and fine linen, and hoods and veils.” Was it of these that the women who “feared the Lord spake one with another”? Certainly not. The Lord would hardly have thought it worth while to bow the heavens and come down “to hearken and hear” and to keep “a book of remembrance” for conversation such as this. It was of higher and better things than these that the holy men and women of old spoke: of God and His grace, of His mercy and goodness, of His judgments against sin, of His lovingkindness to His people.

1. The topics of Christian conversation are as varied as the experiences of the Christian life. But these are sure to be leading topics, all centring in the Unspeakable Gift.

(1) His Name.—We can image the men of Malachis day who feared the Lord saying, “There are fearful blasphemers abroad. Men speak and act as if truth were a lie, and righteousness a dream. Where is the promise of His coming? they cry scornfully, as we proclaim Him; while we wait and watch for His judgments, and still He stays His hand. But there is a righteous Lord reigning in the heart of all this discord and confusion. There, through the gloom, His burning eye seems glowing on us. Yes! He is there, living, reigning, until all that resists Him is crushed beneath His feet. Sin He hates, and will confound; purity He loves, and will glorify. Stand fast then; be strong and of a good courage. Let men laugh or scorn as they will, the Lord our God is a holy Lord, and will magnify His holiness in us and before mankind.”

(2) His Power.—His holiness, they would say, is not a name, a word; it is an infinite force. His awful power will make it a reality before these mockers and scorners, who are but as the chaff which is driven before His breath. With all the pomp of His power He is prepared to uphold our witness, and to vindicate our faith. And were there not moments when for them, too, the veil lifted, and they saw ranged round them the gleaming cohorts of Gods angels? Earth would seem to them at such moments but as an ant-hill of petty and malignant schemers; while around, above, beneath them, filling the infinite spaces, were the glorious powers of the Lord.

(3) His Promises.—In dark nights the stars are most blessed guides. And in sad seasons, when earth and heaven are buried in gloom, the earnest few gaze on the stars which peer faintly through the darkness, and watch—oh, how earnestly!—for the breaking of the day. What God hath said is then most momentous. God is veiled from us. We see Him not; has He left the world to be the devils own empire? weary, has He gone, and abandoned it to its doom? And then the stars of promise shine forth. Light stored for dark hours is treasured for us in the promises, and men draw it thence to glow and shine. Those who pore alone over the promises, when all around them is wrapped in gloom, become stern and fanatical. These men “spake one with another,” and a strength which had a heart of love in it, entered into their souls.

(4) His Truth.—Can God suffer Himself to be mocked by the worlds folly and wickedness? The promises! Where are the seals? “Lift up your eyes on high, and behold who hath created these things.” In the depths of the buried ages those stars were led forth that man at last might rejoice in them. He made man to be king on the throne of the creation. Will He suffer the devil finally to defile and deface his crown? “He keepeth truth for ever.” He made earth, He made heaven, for His children, and children He will have to inhabit them. Through struggle, sacrifice, anguish, death, He has sought and found them; He will never lose them more. The “agony and bloody sweat” are the seals of His promises; the breadth and depth of that suffering and sacrifice is the measure of the immutability of His truth.

Truth is not ours to bate and pare down. Truth is Gods; it has Gods majesty inherent within it, and it will convert the souls of men, even when it seems rudest and most repelling; and it will do so for this one reason—because it is Gods truth, and because we through the grace of God have boldness and faith to put our trust in it.1 [Note: F. W. Faber, Notes on Doctrinal and Spiritual Subjects, i. 368.]

In course of the speech which he delivered in the House of Commons on the Bradlaugh question on 26th April, 1883, Mr. Gladstone used these words: “Truth is the expression of the Divine mind, and however little our feeble vision may be able to discern the means by which God may provide for its preservation, we may leave the matter in His hands; and we may be sure that a firm and courageous application of every principle of equity and of justice is the best method we can adopt for the preservation and influence of truth.”1 [Note: Thoughts from the Writings and Speeches of William Ewart Gladstone, 61.]

2. But there are cautions to be observed.

(1) We must be careful not to allow religious conversation under common circumstances to run into argument. Argument is very right in its proper place; but argument requires a calmness which is seldom found without some previous preparation of the mind. If conversation—such as it usually is—grows argumentative, it is almost certain to lead on to what is not only useless, but unfavourable to the eliciting of truth, rather, indeed, to much that is really unchristian, and which will afterwards be cause of much regret.

Oh, the unmitigable curse of controversy! Oh, the detestable passions that corrections and contradictions kindle up to fury in the proud heart of man! Eschew controversy, my brethren, as you would eschew the entrance to hell itself. Let them have it their own way. Let them talk. Let them write. Let them correct you. Let them traduce you. Let them judge and condemn you. Let them slay you. Rather let the truth of God itself suffer, than that love suffer. You have not enough of the divine nature in you to be a controversialist. He was oppressed, and He was afflicted, yet He opened not His mouth; He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so He opened not His mouth. Who, when He was reviled, reviled not again; when He suffered, He threatened not: by whose stripes ye were healed. Heal me, prays Augustine again and again, of this lust of mine of always vindicating myself.2 [Note: A. Whyte, Bible Characters: Ahithophel to Nehemiah, 124.]

(2) And, above all, the conversation must be absolutely real. Hypocrisy, unreality, exaggeration are no elements of the speaking one to another so commended by Malachi. It is a difficult matter often to draw the line between these two,—“a time to speak, and a time to be silent.” As to Christian conversation, it should, before all things else, be true and then natural; only then can it do good. In general company silence may frequently be best; religion dragged in unsuitably defeats a good intention, and repels instead of attracting. Only let the silence be from wisdom not cowardice, and let it seek to turn the conversation into improving channels, though not directly religious. The world feels when there is a solid basis of principle beneath the most common talk,—like the ointment of the right hand it “bewrayeth itself.” A man will generally do most good by first gaining an influence through quiet, unobtrusive demeanour and acts of unselfish kindness, and then speech will come with power. A little word so commended is like a point with the weight of all the sword to drive it home, while a world of talk, if the life lags behind, is like chaff; this “talk of the lips” also “tendeth to penury.” Cases may arise where opportunity is pressing and sin flagrant, and a man must speak at all hazards.

The Pharisees were rebuked for making their religion public. Daniel would have sinned had he made his private. So different is duty when religion is popular or unpopular. Sometimes a man has no religion if he does not show it; sometimes very little if he obtrudes it. One thing we must always show—the fruits in the life.

There are things in religion not for common talk, which a delicate mind will no more thrust in than it will its hearts deepest affections. David says, “Come near all ye that fear God: I will tell what he hath done for my soul.” Those that “fear God” are invited, and they must “come near.” As the poet says of grief, so of religion here: “let her be her own mistress still.” Claudius says: “My son, let not pietisers but pious men be thy companions. The true fear of God in the heart is like the sun which shines and warms though it does not speak”; and what Johnson says of all conversation applies specially to that which is Christian: “It is happiest when there is no competition and no vanity, but a quiet interchange of sentiments.”

Much must depend on Christian temperament, much on circumstances; only let us never speak for display, and never be silent through fear.1 [Note: John Ker, Thoughts for Heart and Life, 126.]

Dr. Walter C. Smith, the poet-preacher of the Free Church of Scotland, spoke, in his closing address as Moderator of the General Assembly in the Jubilee Year, 1893, of the fellowship of the saints, and declared that, if brethren who differed on some points would only commune together on the real and essential matter, they would be astonished to find how complete was their harmony down in the depths of the life that is in Christ. “Many years ago,” he added, “I met on a Highland road one of The Men, as they were called, who have exercised so large an influence in that part of our Church. He had learned to regard me with profound distrust; I may even say that he thought me about the most dangerous person then within our borders. But we got into conversation, and sat down on a wall by the roadside, and I soon found that he was a good man, a devoted servant of the Lord Jesus, from whose experience there was not a little that I could learn. Had we discussed and disputed as we might have done, I fear it would have been a barren meeting to us both. But I look back on that hour under the shadow of Cairngorm as one of the best in all my days, when two souls, wayfaring here amid clouds and mists and misunderstandings, met and recognized one another, and saw the shadows flee away ere they parted. Very likely he still thought me far wrong on some points, but he did not think me nearly so dangerous as he had done at first; and I learnt to regard him as a true servant of our common Lord, though he was a good deal in the dark about certain things. May I add that since that day I have often wished to see some of our Highland friends who stand in doubt of some of their Lowland brethren seated side by side of them on that same wall, grey with lichens and mosses, not to debate and discuss knotty points, but to commune of the things that belong to the kingdom and its peace?”

III

The Listening God

1. “The Lord hearkened, and heard” them. He knew for what purpose they were convened. He smiled on their conferences and took note of their wishes, and, if they did not succeed in stemming the tide of apostasy, they had the comfort that in doing their best the Unseen Recorder of their counsels would countenance their labours and reward them according to their faithfulness.

It is not merely “The Lord heard,” but “the Lord hearkened, and heard.” The watchfulness of God is represented as strained, as it were, to its utmost tension in order to hear everything. It is the attitude of jealous guardianship. It is the attitude of the mother as she lovingly listens to her childrens voices, and is quick to note the slightest cry of distress, and to run to assist in the instant of need. It is the highest kind of guardianship, not the guardianship of covenants, though Gods covenant cannot be broken. But this is a higher guardianship than that of covenants. It is the guardianship of love and delight, the guardianship of a delightful treasure, to lose which would be to make a void in the raptures of infinite joy.

2. God hears our conversation. Are we always aware of this? If there are any who can think with comfort of that record of words spoken in His love and fear, must not others tremble when they think of their words? Who has been the better, let each of us ask ourselves, for our possessing the gift of speech? Has it been used by us for the communication of good or for the communication of evil? Will there be no one who may rise up in the judgment to declare that, but for us, he might have remained ignorant of evil, that at least by our help he might have been enabled to escape it, and that we withheld that help, if we did not communicate that knowledge? Let us judge ourselves, one and all, for indeed we have cause to do so, if perhaps, in Gods great mercy, we may not be judged. Let us remember who said that for every idle word which men should speak they should give account in the day of judgment. Of all the sayings written down from His lips in the Book of God, none surely is so terrible in its sound as that which declares, “By thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned.”

3. It is striking to notice the prophets picture of the minuteness of the interest which God takes in this God-fearing society. Literally, the words of the prophet are: “Then they that feared the Lord spake—a man to his friend.” Even their private conversation, the word by the wayside, God was hearkening for, and attending to. Every word out of this spiritual community, though it were only a casual word, would reflect the spirit of the community, and so be precious to God. The whole circle of such a life would become sacred to the Father of all who watches over it from centre to circumference. We are reminded of the words of the greater Teacher, which these in some measure anticipate: “Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and not one of them shall fall on the ground without your Father: but the very hairs of your head are all numbered.” Whenever they that feared the Lord spoke, a man to his friend, the Lord hearkened and heard it all with loving interest and with infinite sympathy.

When the spring comes, the oak-tree with its thousands upon thousands of leaves blossoms all over. The great heart of the oak-tree remembers every remotest tip of every farthest branch, and sends to each the message and the power of new life. And yet we do not think of the heart of the oak-tree as if it were burdened with such multitudinous remembrance. It is simply the thrill of the common life translated into these million forms.… Somewhat in that way it seems to me that we may think of Gods remembrance of His million children.… That patient sufferer, that toilsome worker, are far-off leaves on the great tree of His life; far-off, and yet as near to the beating of His heart as any leaf on all the tree. He remembers them as the heart remembers the finger-tips to which it sends the blood.… If any doubt about Him, issuing from them, stops up the channel so that He cannot get to them, He waits behind the hindrance, behind the doubt, and tries to get it away, and feels the withering of the unbelieving, unfed leaf as if a true part of Himself were dying. And when the obstacle gives way, and the doubt is broken, and the path is once more open, it is almost with a shout which we can hear that the life-blood leaps to its work again.1 [Note: Phillips Brooks.]

IV

The Book of Remembrance

1. Not only did God hearken and hear, but “a book of remembrance was written before him, for them that feared the Lord, and that thought upon his name.” This writing in the book of remembrance involves not only preservation, but preservation grounded on the Divine approbation. Every word that the Lord heard was to be written in this book, and preserved for the future. All holy thoughts and all holy words belong not only to the present, but to the eternal future as well.

Never a holy thought has been lost in the history of the world, nor can be lost. Never a holy word has disappeared. They are all preserved. It is not the cleverness of an idea that gives it immortality, but its Divineness. There are clever things that will pass away with contempt, to the astonishment of the clever people who uttered them. It is not eloquence that can ensure immortality. It is holiness and purity and truth. And while many an outburst of eloquence from silver tongues shall pass away as empty sound into space, the broken, earnest words spoken by a poor illiterate Christian man to his Christian friend by the wayside will never die, for they are written in the book of remembrance.

2. What, then, does it mean to us to have our names and our words recorded in Gods book of remembrance? It means that an earnest, zealous, Christ-loving, Christ-serving life, and its works of patience and faith, are deemed by Heaven the things best worth recording, and best deserving to be kept in remembrance. In those higher courts they are not absorbed and excited with the things that we poor mortals go mad about, with the pomps and splendours and vanities of the human panorama, the stage shows, the garish lights, the kaleidoscopic changes; they are not mad with curiosity to watch the rise and fall of millionaires and great houses. Possibly they are not so profoundly interested as we are in the movements of kings and rulers, in the startling speeches of politicians, and in the prospects of political parties, and certainly not in the revelations of the criminal court, the scandals of high life, and the result of the latest football match. A young man in the city steadfastly resisting its temptations and keeping himself undefiled for Jesus sake; a maiden bringing her life and laying it at the Masters feet, and vowing to love Him first and best; a girl in the shop or factory adorning her Christian profession amidst unchristian workmates; a business man holding his conscience and integrity amid all the shady doings and unveracities of the market and commercial life; a woman bearing her cross, burden, thorn in the flesh, without complaining; a man of any sort daring to be a Daniel in his convictions, and not ashamed to confess in any company that he is a servant of God and Jesus Christ; and the faithful workers in every field who are sowing the seed, spreading the life, and working to extend Christs redeeming purpose and Kingdom—these are the things which the heavenly penmen note down, not one of them is forgotten or overlooked, every one of them is treasured up against the all-rewarding day when He shall bring out His jewels.

Writing in “a book of remembrance” recalls a custom of the Persians. We find in the sixth chapter of Esther that it was usual to enter in certain records the names of those who deserved well of the king, with a notice of their meritorious deeds, to the intent that they might be rewarded. It was thus that Mordecai was brought under the notice of King Ahasuerus in a sleepless night when he read the records of his kingdom for his amusement. In like manner the names and actions of the righteous, their sorrows and sufferings for righteousness sake, are written in a book before God. “Put my tears into thy bottle,” says the psalmist. “Are they not all in thy book?” Their names were inscribed long before in “the book of life”; and now all they say or do which is approved of the Master finds a place in “the book of remembrance.” The word in season spoken to the weary, as well as the cup of cold water given for His sake to a disciple. Nay, their thoughts are there, too: “for them that thought upon his name.”1 [Note: C. D. Bell, The Name above Every Name, 92.]

If love in its silence be greater, stronger

Than million promises, sighs, or tears—

I will wait upon Him a little longer

Who holdeth the balance of our years.

Little white clouds like angels flying,

Bring the spring with you across the sea—

Loving or losing, living or dying,

Lord, remember, remember me!

Religious Conversation

Literature

Arnold (T.) Sermons, i. 181, 190.

Arnold (T. K.), Sermons Preached in a Country Village, 143.

Bell (C. D.), The Name above Every Name, 85.

Blackwood (A.), Christian Service, 127.

Brown (J. B.), The Sunday Afternoon, 20, 29.

Burrows (H. W.), Parochial Sermons, iii. 241.

De Quetteville (P. W.), Short Studies on Vital Subjects, 122.

Jacob (E.), in Oxford University Sermons, 368.

Little (H. W.), Arrows for the Kings Archers, No. 44.

Macaskill (M.), A Highland Pulpit, 15.

Merson (D.), Words of Life, 289.

Moule (H. C. G.), Thoughts for the Sundays of the Year, 117.

Parker (J.), Sermons (Cavendish Pulpit), No. 18.

Pierson (A. T.), The Making of a Sermon, 167.

Punshon (W. M.), Sermons, ii. 267.

Randolph (B. W.), The Threshold of the Sanctuary, 43.

Robertson (F. W.), Sermons, iv. 200.

Thomas (J.), Myrtle Street Pulpit, iv. 81.

Vaughan (C. J.), Memorials of Harrow Sundays, 324.

Vaughan (J.), Sermons (Brighton Pulpit), New Ser., xvii. (1879), No. 1099.

Christian World Pulpit, lxiv. 33 (J. G. Greenhough).

Literary Churchman, xxxii. (1886) 376 (E. J. Hardy).