The Project Gutenberg eBook, Parochial and Plain Sermons, Vol. VII (of 8),
by John Henry Newman
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Title: Parochial and Plain Sermons, Vol. VII (of 8)
Author: John Henry Newman
Release Date: January 11, 2008 [eBook #24256]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAROCHIAL AND PLAIN SERMONS, VOL.
VII (OF 8)***
E-text prepared by Al Haines
PAROCHIAL AND PLAIN SERMONS
by
JOHN HENRY NEWMAN, B.D.
Formerly Vicar of St. Mary's, Oxford
In Eight Volumes
VOL. VII.
New Edition
London
Longmans, Green, and Co.
and New York: 15 East 16th Street
1891
CONTENTS.
SERMON I.
The Lapse of Time.
"_Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is
no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither
thou goest._"--Eccles. ix. 10
SERMON II.
Religion a Weariness to the Natural Man.
"_He hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see Him, there is no
beauty that we should desire Him._"--Isaiah liii. 2
SERMON III.
The World our Enemy.
"_We know that we are of God, and the whole world lieth in
wickedness._"--1 John v. 19
SERMON IV.
The Praise of Men
"_They loved the praise of men more than the praise of God._"--John xii.
43
SERMON V.
Temporal Advantages.
"_We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry
nothing out. And having food and raiment let us be therewith
content._"--1 Tim. vi. 7, 8
SERMON VI.
The Season of Epiphany.
"_This beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana of Galilee, and manifested
forth His glory; and His disciples believed on Him._"--John ii. 11
SERMON VII.
The Duty of Self-Denial.
"_Surely I have behaved and quieted myself, as a child that is weaned of
his mother: my soul is even as a weaned child._"--Psalm cxxxi. 2
SERMON VIII.
The Yoke of Christ.
"_Take My yoke upon you, and learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly in
heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls; for My yoke is easy, and
My burden is light._"--Matt. xi. 29, 30
SERMON IX.
Moses the Type of Christ.
"_The Lord thy God will raise up unto thee a Prophet from the midst of
thee, of thy brethren, like unto me; unto Him ye shall hearken._"--Deut.
xviii. 15
SERMON X.
The Crucifixion.
"_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 openeth not His mouth._"--Isaiah liii. 7
SERMON XI.
Attendance on Holy Communion.
"_Ye will not come to Me, that ye might have life._"--John v. 40
SERMON XII.
The Gospel Feast.
"_When Jesus then lifted up His eyes, and saw a great company come unto
Him, He saith unto Philip, Whence shall we buy bread, that these may
eat?_"--John vi. 5
SERMON XIII.
Love of Religion, a New Nature.
"_If we lie dead with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with
Him._"--Romans vi. 8
SERMON XIV.
Religion Pleasant to the Religious.
"_O taste and see how gracious the Lord is: blessed is the man that
trusteth in Him._"--Psalm xxxiv. 8
SERMON XV
Mental Prayer.
"_Pray without ceasing._"--1 Thess. v. 17
SERMON XVI.
Infant Baptism.
"_Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into
the Kingdom of God._"--John iii. 5
SERMON XVII.
The Unity of the Church.
"_And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I
will build My Church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against
it._"--Matt. xvi. 18
SERMON XVIII.
Stedfastness in the Old Paths.
"_Thus saith the Lord, Stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the old
paths, where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest
for your souls._"--Jer. vi. 16
thou goest._"--Eccles. ix. 10.
Solomon's advice that we should do whatever our hand findeth to do with
our might, naturally directs our thoughts to that great work in which
all others are included, which will outlive all other works, and for
which alone we really are placed here below--the salvation of our
souls. And the consideration of this great work, which must be done
with all our might, and completed before the grave, whither we go,
presents itself to our minds with especial force at the commencement of
a new year. We are now entering on a fresh stage of our life's
journey; we know well how it will end, and we see where we shall stop
in the evening, though we do not see the road. And we know in what our
business lies while we travel, and that it is important for us to do it
with our "might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor
wisdom, in the grave." This is so plain, that nothing need be said in
order to convince us that it is true. We know it well; the very
complaint which numbers commonly make when told of it, is that they
know it already, that it is nothing new, that they have no need to be
told, and that it is tiresome to hear the same thing said over and over
again, and impertinent in the person who repeats it. Yes; thus it is
that sinners silence their conscience, by quarrelling with those who
appeal to it; they defend themselves, if it may be called a defence, by
pleading that they already know what they should do and do not, that
they know perfectly well that they are living at a distance from God,
and are in peril of eternal ruin; that they know they are making
themselves children of Satan, and denying the Lord that bought them,
and want no one to tell them so. Thus they witness against themselves.
However, though we already know well enough that we have much to do
before we die, yet (if we will but attend) it may be of use to hear the
fact dwelt upon; because by thinking over it steadily and seriously, we
may possibly, through God's grace, gain some deep conviction of it;
whereas while we keep to general terms, and confess that this life is
important and is short, in the mere summary way in which men commonly
confess it, we have, properly speaking, no knowledge of that great
truth at all.
Consider, then, what it is to die; "there is no work, device,
knowledge, or wisdom, in the grave." Death puts an end absolutely and
irrevocably to all our plans and works, and it is inevitable. The
Psalmist speaks to "high and low, rich and poor, one with another."
"No man can deliver his brother, nor make agreement unto God for him."
Even "wise men die, as well as the ignorant and foolish, and leave
their riches for other[1]." Difficult as we may find it to bring it
home to ourselves, to realize it, yet as surely as we are here
assembled together, so surely will every one of us, sooner or later,
one by one, be stretched on the bed of death. We naturally shrink from
the thought of death, and of its attendant circumstances; but all that
is hateful and fearful about it will be fulfilled in our case, one by
one. But all this is nothing compared with the consequences implied in
it. Death stops us; it stops our race. Men are engaged about their
work, or about their pleasure; they are in the city, or the field; any
how they are stopped; their deeds are suddenly gathered in--a reckoning
is made--all is sealed up till the great day. What a change is this!
In the words used familiarly in speaking of the dead, they are no more.
They were full of schemes and projects; whether in a greater or humbler
rank, they had their hopes and fears, their prospects, their pursuits,
their rivalries; all these are now come to an end. One builds a house,
and its roof is not finished; another buys merchandise, and it is not
yet sold. And all their virtues and pleasing qualities which endeared
them to their friends are, as far as this world is concerned, vanished.
Where are they who were so active, so sanguine, so generous? the
amiable, the modest, and the kind? We were told that they were dead;
they suddenly disappeared; that is all we know about it. They were
silently taken from us; they are not met in the seat of the elders, nor
in the assemblies of the people, in the mixed concourse of men, nor in
the domestic retirement which they prized. As Scripture describes it,
"the wind has passed over them, and they are gone, and their place
shall know them no more." And they have burst the many ties which held
them; they were parents, brothers, sisters, children, and friends; but
the bond of kindred is broken, and the silver cord of love is loosed.
They have been followed by the vehement grief of tears, and the long
sorrow of aching hearts; but they make no return, they answer not; they
do not even satisfy our wish to know that they sorrow for us as we for
them. We talk about them thenceforth as if they were persons we do not
know; we talk about them as third persons; whereas they used to be
always with us, and every other thought which was within us was shared
by them. Or perhaps, if our grief is too deep, we do not mention their
names at all. And their possessions, too, all fall to others. The
world goes on without them; it forgets them. Yes, so it is; the world
contrives to forget that men have souls, it looks upon them all as mere
parts of some great visible system. This continues to move on; to this
the world ascribes a sort of life and personality. When one or other
of its members die, it considers them only as falling out of the
system, and as come to nought. For a minute, perhaps, it thinks of
them in sorrow, then leaves them--leaves them for ever. It keeps its
eye on things seen and temporal. Truly whenever a man dies, rich or
poor, an immortal soul passes to judgment; but somehow we read of the
deaths of persons we have seen or heard of, and this reflection never
comes across us. Thus does the world really cast off men's souls, and
recognizing only their bodies, it makes it appear as if "that which
befalleth the sons of men befalleth beasts, even one thing befalleth
them, as the one dieth so dieth the other; yea, they have all one
breath, so that a man hath no pre-eminence over a beast, for all is
vanity[2]."
But let us follow the course of a soul thus casting off the world, and
cast off by it. It goes forth as a stranger on a journey. Man seems
to die and to be no more, when he is but quitting us, and is really
beginning to live. Then he sees sights which before it did not even
enter into his mind to conceive, and the world is even less to him than
he to the world. Just now he was lying on the bed of sickness, but in
that moment of death what an awful change has come over him! What a
crisis for him! There is stillness in the room that lately held him;
nothing is doing there, for he is gone, he now belongs to others; he
now belongs entirely to the Lord who bought him; to Him he returns; but
whether to be lodged safely in His place of hope, or to be imprisoned
against the great Day, that is another matter, that depends on the
deeds done in the body, whether good or evil. And now what are his
thoughts? How infinitely important now appears the value of time, now
when it is nothing to him! Nothing; for though he spend centuries
waiting for Christ, he cannot now alter his state from bad to good, or
from good to bad. What he dieth that he must be for ever; as the tree
falleth so must it lie. This is the comfort of the true servant of
God, and the misery of the transgressor. His lot is cast once and for
all, and he can but wait in hope or in dread. Men on their death-beds
have declared, that no one could form a right idea of the value of time
till he came to die; but if this has truth in it, how much more truly
can it be said after death! What an estimate shall we form of time
while we are waiting for judgment! Yes, it is we--all this, I repeat,
belongs to us most intimately. It is not to be looked at as a picture,
as a man might read a light book in a leisure hour. _We_ must die, the
youngest, the healthiest, the most thoughtless; _we_ must be thus
unnaturally torn in two, soul from body; and only united again to be
made more thoroughly happy or to be miserable for ever.
Such is death considered in its inevitable necessity, and its
unspeakable importance--nor can we ensure to ourselves any certain
interval before its coming. The time may be long; but it may also be
short. It is plain, a man may die any day; all we can say is, that it
is unlikely that he will die. But of this, at least, we are certain,
that, come it sooner or later, death is continually on the move towards
us. We are ever nearer and nearer to it. Every morning we rise we are
nearer that grave in which there is no work, nor device, than we were.
We are now nearer the grave, than when we entered this Church. Thus
life is ever crumbling away under us. What should we say to a man, who
was placed on some precipitous ground, which was ever crumbling under
his feet, and affording less and less secure footing, yet was careless
about it? Or what should we say to one who suffered some precious
liquor to run from its receptacle into the thoroughfare of men, without
a thought to stop it? who carelessly looked on and saw the waste of it,
becoming greater and greater every minute? But what treasure can equal
time? It is the seed of eternity: yet we suffer ourselves to go on,
year after year, hardly using it at all in God's service, or thinking
it enough to give Him at most a tithe or a seventh of it, while we
strenuously and heartily sow to the flesh, that from the flesh we may
reap corruption. We try how little we can safely give to religion,
instead of having the grace to give abundantly. "Rivers of water run
down mine eyes, because men keep not Thy law," so says the holy
Psalmist. Doubtless an inspired prophet saw far more clearly than we
can see, the madness of men in squandering that treasure upon sin,
which is meant to buy their chief good;--but if so, what must this
madness appear in God's sight! What an inveterate malignant evil is it
in the hearts of the sons of men, that thus leads them to sit down to
eat, and drink, and rise up to play, when time is hurrying on and
judgment coming? We have been told what He thinks of man's unbelief,
though we cannot enter into the depths of His thoughts. He showed it
to us in act and deed, as far as we could receive it, when He even sent
His Only-begotten Son into the world as at this time, to redeem us from
the world,--which, most surely, was not lightly done; and we also learn
His thoughts about it from the words of that most merciful Son,--which
most surely were not lightly spoken, "The wicked," He says, "shall go
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