Part 18

There is nothing, no symphonies and oratorios, no strains, that can bring peace and rest to a sinner's heart, but only and solely the simple words of the Lord received and believed. The sermon, then, occupies the central position of the worship, just as the sun is the center of the solar system, and, in turn, determines the true place of the song and music. It is the noble handmaiden, preceding and accompanying the preaching of the Word, the sweet odors which carry our devotion and sacrifice upward to heaven, in harmony with the utterance of the speaker. It is thus we value our hymns as the finest ornament of our evangelical worship, and nothing is more significant than to find in your homes the Christian hymn-book lying upon God's Book. And what does a careful survey of that hymn-book reveal to us? We would not from any feeling of denominational pride detract any from the grandeur of hymns originated in dissenting bodies, many of which are embodied in our hymnal, but if there is one church whose voice swells out loudly among the hymnody of Christendom, that can look with satisfaction on its collection of sacred songs, it is our beloved Lutheran Zion with its stately and majestic chorals, its incomparable anthems. There is about our hymns a spirit of divine power; they are the expressions of our Christian faith, church-hymns in the fullest and best sense, not only inspiring and devotional, but educating and instructive, designed to lead us in our way to salvation and heaven. Take, for instance, the various seasons of the church-year: Advent, expectant and exultant over the coming of the Savior of man; Christmas, what hymns will compare with those of our church in childlike simplicity and depth of feeling? Passion-tide, with its solemn lines: "O Bleeding Head and Wounded," "O Lamb of God Most Holy;" Easter-tide, with its stirring hallelujahs. How doctrinally sound are our hymns of faith, how cheering our hymns of praise, how touching the melodies of penitence and death! Referring to our text, we find the first requisite for a correct church-hymn is this: to bring God's Word closer to us. The Apostle says: "Teaching." Our hymns will stand the test of this standard. In the days of the Reformation they were one of the most beneficial means of winning hearts and conquering lands for Bible truth and Bible Church. Many a priest, history records, was sung down from the pulpit and out of the church by the congregation joining in a Lutheran hymn, and later, in the dreary days of Rationalism, when man's folly was put in the place of God's wisdom, it was these church-hymns which still afforded spiritual food to the children of God, and till this day, wherever those tried and heavenly true hymns resound, we can cheerfully be persuaded that they assert their influence in making men wise unto salvation.

Nor are they merely calculated to instruct, but also to cheer and inspire. There is scarcely another power that will ease the heart, strengthen and sustain the lagging and downcast spirit, as will a heartfelt "Commit whate'er may grieve thee," and kindred hymns. In the darkest moments of his life, David tuned his harp and bade sorrow and grief flee. In Philippi's dungeon, at the hour of midnight, Paul and Silas raised their voices in melody of praise. After days of bitter conflict and labor the Reformer would produce his lute, and sing unto the Lord a pleasant song, to the joy of the angels and the chagrin of the devil. Gustavus Adolphus, Sweden's valiant hero of the faith, who fought and died for religious liberty, never entered a battle without prostrating himself with his army before the Lord of heaven and singing, "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God," "Fear Not, O Little Flock, the Foe." Sacred story tells us of Saul, that whenever the evil spirit came over him, the king would send for David, and under his tune find relief from his torments.

Nor has the spiritual song lost any of this soothing element. "The singing of songs and hymns purifieth our thoughts," says a church-father, "represses sensuality, stirs the heart to pure emotions, awakens a love and a longing for the beauty of holiness, moves to holy contrition and godly sobriety." No wonder that Luther ranked music next to theology of pure religion, effectual as it is in warding off Satan's suggestions, and aiding us in becoming better and more noble, and hence, in harmony with this Sunday, Cantate, we are justified in bringing this topic to your consideration, especially in our times, which are replete with so much vain and shoddy music, senseless and overwrought travesties, often set to tunes that are a perfect scandal and shame upon all divine worship, and better suited for the opera than for the house of God. Let us rejoice in this good gift God has bestowed upon us, and diligently use it in our churches and homes until it shall be our happy lot to join the multitudes of those who shall raise their voices to pour forth their everlasting song, and cause the city of God to ring with anthems of perpetual worship. Amen.

FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER.

Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance.--_Eph. 6, 18._

Among the things that people believed in olden times was a certain stone, called a touchstone. By means of this stone it was claimed one could determine whether a gem or a precious piece of jewelry was genuine or not. The sham diamond might glitter ever so brightly, the sham gold externally deceive the eye, let the touchstone be applied, and its real character would at once appear. Spiritually, in religion, there is such a touchstone by which those who profess to serve God can discover whether they are genuine Christians or not, whether their religion is pure gold or inferior metal, whether their faith is a gem of great price or only worthless imitation, useless dross. That touchstone of true spiritual life is prayer, communion with his God, for as a man communeth with his God, so he is. How, then, does this touchstone apply to you? Are you a man, or woman, of prayer? What sort of Christian are you?

Nor can it be said that we need no instruction on this subject. We must be taught to pray just as we must be taught how to write and talk correctly. Let us, then, in all simplicity, with plainness of speech and practicalness of purpose, consider. _I. When, II. where, and III. how we should pray_: and may God's Holy Spirit, the Lord of Prayer, attend with His blessing our meditation.

There are many passages in Holy Scripture which seem to command impossibilities, and we tacitly pass them by as not intended for us. This cannot be a wise or safe thing to do, for God does not command impossibilities. So with the text, "Praying always." In other places we read, "Pray without ceasing," "Continue constant in prayer." Our first thought may be, That's beyond us. How, in this busy life of ours, shall we ever be able to give ourselves over to never-ceasing prayer? A few minutes a day, a special prayer occasionally at special seasons or special emergencies, that's about all we can afford. That is a mistaken notion of these texts of prayer. It is a familiar expression: "Prayer is the Christian's vital breath," the Christian's native air. We are always breathing. Ceasing to breathe means death. So with the spiritual life. For a person not to pray means spiritual death. Every one who is a Christian prays; not to pray stamps him as a non-Christian.

And yet, as in the bodily sphere a distinction exists between breathing and using that breath for speaking, so we must draw a distinction between "prayer" and "saying prayers." A Christian, as he is always breathing naturally, so he is always breathing spiritually. He lives a life of prayer; he is always in such a state of faith and heart and spirit that he can lift up his heart in prayer. Even when we are silent, we breathe; even when a Christian is not "saying prayers," engaged in forms of worship, he is in a spiritual frame of mind, and is living a life of prayer. To pray always is to live as in God's presence, to be constantly conscious of Him.

And still, true as it is that a Christian is always living a life of prayer, there must be times for prayer--times when we engage in "saying prayers." There is more in this matter of habit than many persons think. It means regularity, and makes it both easy and pleasant. There is no absolute rule on this subject, no technical limit. Each one must determine himself how often he ought to pray daily. David, in the Psalm, says, "Evening and morning and at noon will I pray." Daniel was accustomed to kneel upon his knees three times a day. There is, if we may so speak, a natural propriety in thus thrice addressing the throne of grace. Three times a day we are accustomed to feed our bodies, and this very act may suggest to us that our souls need similar attention. "Men shall not live by bread alone." We have our blessed Lord's example for it. The holiest and most fruitful Christian lives have been lived by men and women who thus prayed not less than three times a day. The early Christians were exemplary in the discharge of this duty. What Christian, arising from his bed in the morning, can neglect his prayer? Everything seems to invite him to lift up his heart unto God. When we arise from our beds, it is like a resurrection from the dead, and it seems almost impossible for a pious mind not to view it in that divine light, thanking God for his waking; and as he sallies forth from his home, not knowing what a day may bring forth, and feeling his weakness and frailty and danger, the temptation to which he is every moment exposed, how can he do it without first raising his eyes and thoughts on high, committing himself to the faithful Creator, and invoking His protection and strength? Moreover, knowing that everything is resting upon His blessing, he should invoke it upon the occupation of his mind and hands.

Direct, control, suggest this day, All I may deign, or do, or say, That all my powers, with all their might, In Thy sole glory may unite.

When we thus go forth into the world, it is with an atmosphere of devotion around us.

And then again at night-time, when we have given all our strength to the work of our calling, tired and exhausted from the toil of the day, and our couches invite us to repose, who can look back on the blessings of the day without being moved to gratitude to Him who kept us safely through it? There was this and that of the day's transaction that deserves a calm retrospect in the sight of the Lord, confession of one's discrepancy and wrong-doing. And who can resign himself to sleep, the emblem of death, and to his bed, the type of his grave, without saying a few words of Christian committal? And who, during the day, cannot find a few moments to lift up his thoughts on high? Nor, beloved fellow-Christians and church-members, neglect to speak grace at your table; there are blessings, direct and indirect, which connect with that pious and time-honored custom which no household can afford to forego. Frequently the only time when the family meets during the day, it forms a link of spirituality between its members. It is no little means of keeping the devil out and bringing the dove of peace back. Permit not this grand old and well-tried custom to lapse into disuse; hold fast to it as a sacred heirloom transmitted from your godly parents. Thus have your fixed, established season of prayer.

And it is good not only to have stated times, but also stated places for prayers. This is our second consideration: Where? You can pray anywhere. You can hold audience with God at your own option. The place is not essential to prayer. Peter prayed on the housetop, Paul in prison, Daniel in the lions' den, Jonah in the fish's belly. The Lord is everywhere, and His ears are always open to the cries of His people. But the law of association is the friend of religion. As you speed to your labors in the morning, as you sit for recuperation in the shade of one of our beautiful parks, as you are busy with your duties in kitchen and workshop, your heart can go out to God in devotion. And so it is well to have a little nook somewhere, a spot especially suggestive to us of prayer. There is help in this. Daniel had his spot, where, when he came in from the excitement of the court, he could kneel down and pray to his God. His window opened towards Jerusalem, not accidentally, but by special arrangement, and his eyes swept over the western hills until vision was lost in the distance; his imagination swept onward till he stood in the courts of the Lord's house on Zion's hill, heard its holy songs, and inhaled the incense that arose from its sacred altars. There is something dear to us in such a spot. Our Lord, in His direction on prayer, enjoins: "Enter into thy closet and pray." It was the custom of the Jews to have certain private rooms on the flat top of their homes which they especially reserved for devotional purposes. One such place you certainly ought to have.

God in His Word calls our churches "houses of prayer." It is a significant title. Not only preaching ought to employ us in the holy place, for what profit is there in preaching, the best of preaching, if there is no outgoing of the heart to God? No singing, no music that has not in it the element of devotion can make melody in His ear. Prayer is an essential part of our service, at the altar and in the pulpit; and it ought to be in the pew. It is here at least, in God's temple, that the Christian soul ought to find a spot, and regularly, where, amid the distressing scenes of earth, it can come to itself, where it can feel and commune in the ear of God, where, lifting itself above the sordidness and the perversity of this earth, it can bathe in the invigorating atmosphere of a nobler world, and draw inspiration for the affairs of life, in a few moments of communion with a Higher Power. Let, I beseech you, this house be to you a house of prayer, and have a similar place in your own home. There's wisdom and great help in that.

Having answered the _when_ and _where_, let us now note the _how_. By this we do not mean the posture in prayer, whether we ought to pray standing or kneeling; neither do we mean whether we ought to use a fixed prayer, committed to memory, or pray extempore, out of the heart, finding our own words. I do not think it is wise to use no form as a rule. Extempore prayers are apt to lack both orderly arrangement and fullness, and when weary or dull, or our thoughts are wandering, we cannot make prayers for ourselves,--we want to have a form of devout words put into our mouths. Those simple, yet stately prayers of our Catechism and hymn-book have been, and are still, the inspiration of thousands of the most devout of God's children. And yet, there is one danger. Using a regular form of prayer statedly may lead to listlessness and lifelessness. It is not only the Romanist who, counting his beads and making his crossings and prostrations, nor the Mohammedan, who at the priest's call from the mosque falls upon his knees, who does not pray, but the Protestant may say or read his addresses to God, and yet not pray. There is a difference between saying prayer and praying. Prayer, to be right, must be offered up in the spirit of prayer, and by the spirit of prayer is meant a devotional tone and temper of the mind and the heart. Reads our text: "Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit." It is the heart that prays, not the knees, nor the hands, nor the lips. To hasten over the words heedlessly, anxious to be done as quickly as possible, to do it because it's a custom, and perhaps with a superstitious fear that if we do not do it, something might befall us, is making a mockery of prayer. We ought to pray, but we must pray in earnest, with faith, reverence, sincerity, as if we meant it. As it has been expressed: God does not look at the arithmetic of our prayers, how many there may be; nor does He look at the logic of our prayers, how methodical and nicely arranged they may be; nor at the rhetoric, how beautiful they may be. What He looks at is the sincerity of our prayers, how earnest they are. And lose not the Spirit in your prayers; that is the one direction of to-day's text. And the other is, "Praying always with all perseverance," _i. e._, prayer must be constant, unceasing. The Apostle knew the defects of earth-born man, and, knowing, bids them to beware of being tardy in their prayer. There is a good reason why. Prayer is spiritual breath, we said. If a man's breathing is bad, if it is hurried, fitful, some mortal mischief is at work. Even so spiritually. If our prayers are hurried, if they are irregular, if we regard them as disagreeable duties, if they are not the natural and necessary consequences of our spiritual life, natural and necessary as breathing is to every living man, then that life is sadly weak and diseased. Why are we so weak in Christian faith? why so wayward and sluggish in our Christian life? Why have sinful habits such power over us? It is because we breathe, _i. e._, pray, so badly. How is it possible to work for God, or fight for Him, if we are tardy in holding communion with Him?

Think it over, my dear fellow-Christian, and may it aid you in making you a man, a woman, of prayer! For what is a man of prayer? See yonder mountain. Below is its gigantic base; then your eye runs up the mountain side, and you see--what? That the peak is lost in the clouds. So is the man of prayer. His feet stand upon the earth, his heart is in the clouds; there is a something that keeps him in constant communion with God. There lies his strength. We call it "prayer." Amen.

ASCENSION.

So, then, after the Lord had spoken unto them, He was received up into heaven, and sat on the right hand of God.--_Mark 16, 19._

The Christian Church, from the beginning, has made the ascension of our Lord the subject of a special annual festival and service, and with excellent reason. The ascension of Christ ranks in importance with His birth, His death, and His resurrection. Strange to say, however, much less attention is given to it. Many are prompt and devout in noting and observing Christmas, Good Friday, and Easter, but when it comes to the glorious ascension, the heavenly enthronement of our blessed Lord, though furnishing equal cause for our gratitude and rejoicing, few seem to so regard it, and make little over its celebration. This ought not to be.

Christ's ascension into heaven is one of the great foundation truths of our Christian faith, a part of the fundamental Creed. "He ascended into heaven, and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty," we recite in the Apostles' Confession. The ancient prophets spoke repeatedly of it, Christ, Himself, on several occasions foretold it, and the apostles and evangelists, most of whom were eye-witnesses of it, testify to it, and, moreover, it is also full of blessedness and precious consolation for those who enter into it with spirit and understanding, as one of the sick, after a sermon on Christ's ascension, preached by our missionary in the City Hospital, exclaimed, "Thank God for this precious truth of Christ's ascension!" The man was right. It is a truth full of strength for a Christian's faith, hope, and love, that it well behooves us to regard it, considering _I. Its significance for Him_; _II. its significance for us_.

St. Paul, summing up the history of our Savior's life, says: "Without controversy great is the mystery of godliness: God was manifest in the flesh, justified in the Spirit, seen of angels, preached unto the Gentiles, believed on in the world, received up into glory." That is the last item, the capstone, as it were, of His life. His work upon earth was completed, the purpose for which He had come perfected; there was nothing for Him to do. "It is finished," He had spoken upon the cross. Moreover, He could not remain upon earth, and eventually die again as a man, for He had conquered death. What, then, was left for Him to do but to return where He had come forth, to ascend on high? This ascension was not a vanishing out of sight, as, for instance, when Christ vanished out of sight in the case of the disciples of Emmaus; nor was it a concealment of Himself, as He concealed Himself from the Jews in the Temple when they lifted up stones to cast at Him; nor was it a transfiguration of His body, as on Mount Tabor, when His face shone as the sun and His garment was white with light.

By Christ's ascension we mean that Christ, according to body and soul, was taken up in a visible manner, by a true and local motion ascending into the clouds, so that now "body and soul" He is in heaven. We shall not speculate, throw up all manner of questions how this could be, but accept the statement of trustworthy, reliable witnesses, men of unimpeachable veracity, that so it was, and we know that it was not the only case of such heavenly ascension. The Bible records two others; the one occurred in the days before the Flood, when it states of Enoch "that God took him and he was seen no more"; and the other took place after the Flood, when Elijah, the prophet, was conveyed in a fiery chariot into ethereal realms. These Old Testament incidents were types of Christ's ascension. The ascension of our Lord stands out as an indisputable fact, witnessed by many. The exact time, place, and circumstances are all minutely given. Thus, what is the first particular of its significance for Him, it shows that He was the divine Being which the Bible states, that He was divine God blessed forevermore.