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Examine yourselves—ask yourselves, each of you, Have I been a good brother? have I been a good son? have I been a good husband? have I been a good father? have I been a good servant?  If not, all professions of religion will avail me nothing.  If not, let me confess my sins to God, and repent and amend at once, whatever it may cost me.  The fulfilling these plain duties is the true test of my faith, the true sign and test whether I really believe in God and in Jesus Christ our Lord.  Do I believe that the world is Christ’s making? and that Christ is governing it?  Do I believe that these plain family relationships are Christ’s sacred appointments?  Do I believe that our Lord Jesus was made very man of the substance of His mother, to sanctify these family relationships, and claim them as the ordinances of God His Father?

In one word—copy Joseph; and when you are tempted say with Joseph, “Can I do this great wickedness, and sin—not against this man or this woman, but against—God.”

Take home these plain, practical words.  Take them home, and fear God at your own firesides.  For at the last day, the Bible tells us, the Lord Jesus Christ will not reward you and me according to the opinions we held while in this mortal body, whether they were quite right or quite wrong, but according to the deeds which we did in the body, whether they were good or bad.

X. SLAVES OF FREE?

“Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will show to you to-day: for the Egyptians whom ye have seen to day, ye shall see them again no more for ever.  The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace.”

—Exodus xiv. 13, 14.

Why did God bring the Jews out of Egypt?  God Himself told them why.  To fulfil the promise which He made to Abraham, their forefather, that of his children He would make a great nation.

Now the Jews in Egypt were not a nation at all.  A nation is free, governed by its own laws, one body of people, held together by one fellow feeling, one language, one blood, one religion; as we English are.  We are a nation.  The Jews were none in Egypt, no more than Negro slaves in America were a nation.  They served a people of a different blood, as the Jews did in Egypt.  They had no laws of their own; they had no fellow-feeling with each other, which enabled them to make common cause together, and help each other, and free each other.

Selfishness and cowardice make some men slaves.  Above all, ungodliness makes men slaves.  For when men do not fear and obey God, they are sure to obey their own lusts and passions, and become slaves to them.  They become ready to sell themselves soul and body for money, or pleasure, or food.  And their fleshly lusts, their animal appetites, keep them down, selfish, divided, greedy, and needy, at the mercy of those who are stronger and cunninger than themselves, just as the Jews were kept down by the strong and cunning Egyptians.

They had slavish hearts in them, and as long as they had, God could not make them into a nation.  The Jews had slaves’ hearts in them.  They were glad enough to get free out of Egypt, to escape from their heavy labour in brick and mortar, from being oppressed, beaten, killed at the will and fancy of the Egyptians, from having their male children thrown into the river as soon as they were born, to keep them from becoming too numerous.  They were glad enough, poor wretches, to escape from all their misery and oppression of which we read in the first three chapters of Exodus.  But if they could do that, that was all they cared for.  They did not want to be made wise, righteous, strong, free-hearted—they did not care about being made into a nation.  We read that when by the Red Sea shore (Exodus xiv.), they saw themselves in great danger, the army of Pharaoh, King of Egypt, following close upon them to attack them, they lost heart at once, and were sore afraid, and cried unto Moses, “Is not this the word which we did tell thee in Egypt, saying, Let us alone that we may serve the Egyptians?  For it had been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness.”

Cowards and slaves!  The thing they feared above all, you see, was death.  If they could but keep the miserable life in their miserable bodies, they cared for nothing beyond.  They were willing to see their children taken from them and murdered, willing to be beaten, worked like dumb beasts for other men’s profit, willing to be idolaters, heathens, worshipping the false gods of Egypt, dumb beasts and stocks and stones, willing to be despised, wretched, helpless slaves—if they could but keep the dear life in them.  God knows there are plenty like them now-a-days—plenty who do not care how mean, helpless, wicked, contemptible they are, if they can but get their living by their meanness.

“But a man must live,” says some one.  How often one hears that made the excuse for all sorts of meanness, dishonesty, grasping tyranny.  “A man must live!”  Who told you that?  It is better to die like a man than to live like a slave, and a wretch, and a sinner.  Who told you that, I ask again?  Not God’s Bible, surely.  Not the example of great and good men.  If Moses had thought that, do you think he would have gone back from Midian, when he was in safety and comfort, with a wife and home, and children at his knee, and leave all he had on earth to face Pharaoh and the Egyptians, to face danger, perhaps a cruel death in shame and torture, and all to deliver his countrymen out of Egypt?  Moses would sooner die like a man helping his countrymen, than live on the fat of the land while they were slaves.  And forty years before he had shown the same spirit too, when though he was rich and prosperous, and high in the world, the adopted son of King Pharaoh’s daughter (Exodus ii. 11), he disdained to be a slave and to see his countrymen slaves round him.  We read how he killed an Egyptian, who was ill-treating one of his brothers, the Jews—and how he then fled out of Egypt into Midian, houseless and friendless, esteeming as St. Paul says, “the reproach of Christ”—that is the affliction and ill-will which came on him for doing right, “better than all the treasures of Egypt” (Heb xi. 24-27).

A man must live?  The valiant Tyrolese of old did not say that (more than seventy years ago), when they fought to the last drop of their blood to defend their country against the French invaders.  They were not afraid to die for liberty; and therefore they won honour from all honourable men, praise from all whose praise is worth having for ever.

A man must live?  The old Greeks and Romans, heathens though they were, were above so mean a speech as that.  They used to say, it was the noblest thing that can befall a man to die—not to live in clover, eating and drinking at his ease—to die among the foremost, fighting for wife and child and home.

A man must live?  The martyrs of old did not say that, when they endured the prison and the scourge, the sword and the fire, and chose rather to die in torments unspeakable than deny the Lord Jesus who bought them with His blood, rather than do what they knew to be wrong. (Hebrews xi.)  They were not afraid of torture and death; but of doing wrong they were unspeakably afraid.  They were free, those holy men of old, truly free—free from their own love of ease and cowardice and selfishness, and all that drags a man down and makes a slave of him.  They knew that “life is more than meat, and the body more than raiment.”  What matter if a man gain the whole world and lose his own soul?  Their souls were free whatever happened to their bodies—the tormentor could not touch them, because they believed in God, because they did not fear those who could kill the body, and after that had no more that they could do.

And do you not see that a coward can never be free, never be godly, never be like Christ?  For by a coward I mean not merely a man who is afraid of pain and trouble.  Every one is that more or less.  Jesus Himself was afraid when He cried in agony, “Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.” (Luke xxii. 42.)  But a coward is a man who is so much afraid that to escape pain and danger, he will do what he ought not—do what he is ashamed of doing—do what lowers him; and therefore our Lord Jesus had perfect courage when He tasted death for all men, and endured the very agony from which He shrank, and while He said, “Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass,” said also, “Nevertheless not my will, but Thine, be done.”

The Jews were cowards when they cried, “Let us alone that we may serve the Egyptians.”  While a man is in that pitiful mood he cannot rise, he cannot serve God—for he must remain the slave of his own body, of which he is so mightily careful, the slave of his own fears, the slave of his own love of bodily comfort.  Such a man does not dare serve God.  He dare not obey God, when obeying God is dangerous and unpleasant.  He dare not claim his heavenly birthright, his share in God’s Spirit, his share in Christ’s kingdom, because that would bring discomfort on him, because he will have to give up the sins he loves, because he will have to endure the insults and ill-will of wicked men.  Thus cowards can never be free, for it is only where the Spirit of God is that there is liberty.

But the Jews were not yet fit to be made soldiers of.  God would not teach them at once not to be afraid of men.  He did not command them to turn again and fight these Egyptians, neither did He lead them into the land of Canaan the strait and short road, through the country of the Philistines, lest they should be discouraged when they saw war.

Now what was God’s plan for raising the Jews out of this cowardly, slavish state?  First, and above all, to make them trust in Him.  While they were fearing the Egyptians, they could never fear Him.  While they were fearing the Egyptians, they were ready to do every base thing, to keep their masters in good humour with them.  God determined to teach them to fear Him more than they feared the Egyptians.  God taught them that He was stronger than the Egyptians, for all their civilisation and learning and armies, chariots and horsemen, swords and spears.  He would not let the Jews fight the Egyptians.  He told them by the mouth of Moses, “Stand you still, and the Lord shall fight for you,” and he commanded Moses to stretch out his rod over the sea. (Exodus xiv.)  The Egyptians were stronger than the Jews—they would have cut them to pieces if they had come to a battle.  For free civilised men like the Egyptians are always stronger than slaves, like the Jews; they respect themselves more, they hold together better, they have order and discipline, and obedience to their generals, which slaves have not.  God intended to teach the Jews that also in His good time.  But not yet.  They were not fit yet to be made soldiers.  They were not even men yet, but miserable slaves.  A man is only a true man when he trusts in God, and none but God—when he fears God and nothing but God.  And that was the lesson which God had to teach them.  That was the lesson which He taught them by bringing them up out of Egypt by signs and wonders, that God was the Lord, God was their deliverer, God was their King—that let them be as weak as they might, He was strong—that if they could not fight the Egyptians God could overwhelm them—that if they could not cross the sea, God could open the sea to let them pass through.  If they dreaded the waste howling wilderness of sand, with its pillars of cloud and fire, its stifling winds which burn the life out of man and beast, God could make the sand storms and the fire pillars and the deadly east wind of the desert work for their deliverance.  And so He taught them to fear Himself, to trust in Him, to look up to Him as their deliverer whose strength was shown most gloriously when they were weakest and most despairing.

This was the great lesson which God meant to teach the children of Israel, that the root and ground of all other lessons, is that this earth belongs to the Lord alone.  That had been what God had been teaching them already, by the plagues of Egypt.  The Egyptians worshipped their great river Nile, and thought it was a god, and the Lord turned the Nile water into blood, and showed that He could do what He liked with it.  The Egyptians worshipped dumb beasts and insects, and fancied in their folly that they were gods.  The Lord sent plagues of frogs and flies and locusts, and took them away again when He liked, to show them that the beasts and creeping things were His also.

The Egyptians worshipped false gods who as they fancied managed the seasons and the weather.  God sent them thunder and hail when it pleased Him, and showed the Jews that He, not these false gods of Egypt, ruled the heavens.  The Egyptians and many other heathen nations of the earth used to offer their children to false gods.  I do not mean by killing them in sacrifice, but by naming them after some idol, and then expecting that the idol would ever afterwards prosper and strengthen them.  Thus the kings were called after the sun.  Pharaoh means the Sun-king; for they fancied that the sun was a god, and protected their kings one after the other.  And God slew all the first-born of Egypt, even the first-born of King Pharaoh on his throne.  The Sun-god could not help him.  The idols of Egypt could not take care of their worshippers—only the children of the Jews escaped. (Exodus xii.)  What a lesson for the Jews!  And they needed it; for during the four hundred years that they had been in Egypt they had almost forgotten the one true God, the God of their forefathers, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; at least they thought Him no better than the false gods of Egypt.  After all these wondrous proofs of God’s almighty power, and His jealousy for His own name, they fell away to idols again and again.  They worshipped a golden calf in Horeb (Exodus xxxii.); they turned aside to worship the idols of the nations whom they passed through on their way to Canaan.  Idolatry had been rooted in their hearts, and it took many years of severe training and teaching on God’s part to drive it out of them—to make them feel that the one God, who made heaven and earth, had delivered them—that they belonged to Him, that they had a share in Him—to make them join with one heart and voice in the glorious song of Moses:

“I will sing unto the Lord, for he hath triumphed gloriously: the horse and his rider hath he thrown into the sea.  The Lord is my strength and song and he is become my salvation: he is my God and I will prepare him an habitation; my father’s God, and I will exalt him.  The Lord is a man of war: the Lord is his name.  Pharaoh’s chariots and his host hath he cast into the sea: his chosen captains also are drowned in the Red Sea.  The depths have covered them: they sank into the bottom as a stone.  Thy right hand, O Lord, is become glorious in power: thy right hand, O Lord, hath dashed in pieces the enemy.  And in the greatness of thine excellency thou hast overthrown them that rose up against thee: thou sentest forth thy wrath, which consumed them as stubble.  And with the blast of thy nostrils the waters were gathered together, the floods stood upright as an heap, and the depths were congealed in the heart of the sea.  The enemy said, I will pursue, I will overtake, I will divide the spoil; my lust shall be satisfied upon them; I will draw my sword, my hand shall deliver them.  Thou didst blow with thy wind, the sea covered them: they sank as lead in the mighty waters.  Who is like unto thee, O Lord, among the gods? who is like thee, glorious in holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders?  Thou stretchedst out thy right hand, the earth swallowed them.  Thou in thy mercy hast led forth the people which thou hast redeemed: thou hast guided them in thy strength unto thy holy habitation.  The people shall hear, and be afraid: sorrow shall take hold on the inhabitants of Palestina.  Then the dukes of Edom shall be amazed; the mighty men of Moab, trembling shall take hold upon them; all the inhabitants of Canaan shall melt away.  Fear and dread shall fall upon them; by the greatness of thine arm they shall be as still as a stone; till thy people pass over, O Lord, till the people pass over, which thou hast purchased.  Thou shalt bring them in and plant them in the mountain of thine inheritance, in the place, O Lord, which thou hast made for thee to dwell in, in the Sanctuary, O Lord, which thy hands have established.  The Lord shall reign for ever and ever.  For the horse of Pharaoh went in with his chariots and with his horsemen into the sea, and the Lord brought again the waters of the sea upon them; but the children of Israel went on dry land in the midst of the sea.” (Exodus xv. 1-19.)

This was God’s first lesson to the Jews; the first step towards making them a free nation.  For believe me, my friends, the only thought which can make men feel free and strong, the only thought which can keep them from being afraid of each other, afraid of the seasons, and the elements, and the chances and changes of this mortal life, the only thought which can teach them that they are brothers, bound together to help and love each other, in short the only thought which can make men citizens—is the thought that the one God is their Father, and that they are all His children—that they have one God, one religion, one baptism, one Lord and Saviour, who has delivered them, and will deliver them again and again from all their sins and miseries; one God and Father of all, who is in all, and for all, and over all, to whom they all owe equal duty, in whom they all have an equal share.

That lesson God began to teach the Jews by the Red Sea.  That lesson God has taught our English forefathers again and again; and that lesson He will teach us, their children, as often as we forget it, by signs and wonders, by chastisements and by mercies, till we all learn to trust in Him and Him only, and know that there is none other name under heaven by which we can be saved from evil in this life or in the life to come, but the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Angel of the Covenant, who led the Jews up out of the land of Egypt.

XI. DANGERS—AND THE LITANY

“Then they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them out of their distresses.  And he led them forth by the right way, that they might go to a city of habitation.  Oh that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men.”

—Psalm cvii. 6-8.

This 107th Psalm is a noble psalm—a psalm which has given comfort to thousands in suffering and in danger, even in the sorrows which they have brought on themselves by their own folly.  For it tells them of a Lord who hears them when they cry to Him in their trouble, and who delivers them from their distress.

It was written on a special occasion, as all the most important words of the Bible are written—written seemingly, after some band of Jews struggling across the desert, on their return from the captivity in Babylon, had been in great danger of death.  They went astray in the wilderness out of their way, and found no city to rest in; hungry and thirsty their soul fainted in them, so they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and He delivered them from their distress.  He led them forth by the right way, that they might go to the city where they dwelt.  That was the plain fact, on which the psalmist built up this noble psalm.

In the blazing sandy desert, without water, food, or shade, they had lost their path, and were at their wit’s end.  And they cried unto the Lord their God for guidance, for they could not guide themselves.  And the Lord answered their prayer and guided them.  We do not read that God worked a miracle for them, or sent an angel to lead them.  Simply, somehow or other, they found their way after all, and got safe out of the desert; and they believed that it was God who enabled them to find their way, and praised the Lord for His goodness; and for His goodness not only to them, but to the children of men—to all men who had the sense to call on Him in trouble, and to put themselves in their right place as men—God’s children, calling for help to their Father in heaven.

Therefore the psalmist goes on to speak of the cases of God’s goodness, which he seems to have seen, or at least heard of.  Of wretched prisoners, bound fast in misery and iron, and that through their own fault and folly, who had cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and been delivered by Him from the darkness of the dungeon.  Of foolish men who had ruined their health, or at least their prospects in life, by their own sin and folly, till their soul abhorred all manner of meat, and they were hard at death’s door.  But of them, too, he says, when they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, He delivered them from their distress.  He sent His word—what we now foolishly call the laws of Nature, but which the Psalmist knew to be the ever-working power and providence of God—and healed them, and they were saved from their destruction.

Then he goes on to speak of the dangers of the sea which were especially strange and terrible to him—a Jew.  For the Jews were no sailors; and if they went to sea, would go as merchants, or supercargoes in ships manned by heathens; and the danger was really great.  The ships were clumsy; navigation was ill-understood; the storms of the Mediterranean sea were then as now, sudden and furious; and when one came on, the heathen sailors would, I doubt not, be at their wit’s end, their courage melting away because of the trouble, and call on all their gods and idols to help them; but the men of whom the Psalmist speaks, though they were no seamen, knew on whom to call.  It was by the word of the Lord that the stormy wind arose which lifted up the billows.  He could quell the storm if He would, and when He would; and to Him they cried and not in vain.  “And He made the storm to cease so that the waves thereof were still.  Then were they glad, because they were at rest, and so He brought them to the haven where they would be.”

My friends, this was the simple faith of the old Jews.  And this was the simple faith of our forefathers by land and sea.  And this faith, as I believe, made England great.  The faith that there was a living God, a living Lord, who would hear the cry of poor creatures in their trouble, even when they had brought their trouble on themselves.  Our forefathers were not mere landsmen like the Jews, but the finest seamen the world has ever seen.  And yet they were not ashamed in storm and danger to cry like the Jews unto the Lord, that He might make the storm to cease, and bring them to the haven where they would be.  Yes! faith in God did not make them the less brave, skilful, cautious, scientific; and it need not make us so.  Skill and science need not take away our faith in God.  I trust it will not take it away, and I believe it will not take it away, as long as we can hear what I once heard, on board of one of the finest men of war ¹ in the British Navy—the ship in which and from which, all British sailors may learn their duty—when I saw some six or eight hundred men mustered on the deck for daily morning prayer, and heard the noble old prayer, which our forefathers have handed down to us, to be said every day in Her Majesty’s navy: ²

“O eternal God who alone spreadest out the heavens, and rulest the raging of the sea; who hast compassed the waters with bounds, until day and night come to an end; be pleased to receive into Thy Almighty and most gracious protection, the persons of us Thy servants, and the fleet in which we serve.  Preserve us from the dangers of the sea, and from the violence of the enemy, that we may be a safeguard unto our most gracious Sovereign Lady Queen Victoria and her dominions, and a security for such as pass on the seas upon their lawful occasions; that the inhabitants of our island may in peace and quietness serve Thee our God, and that we may return in safety to enjoy the blessings of the land, with the fruits of our labours, and with a thankful remembrance of Thy mercies, to praise and glorify Thy holy name; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.”

Then, as I stood upon that deck, and heard that solemn appeal to God, before each man went about his appointed duty for the day, said I to myself, “The ancient spirit is not dead.  It may be that it is sleeping in these prosperous times.  But it is not dead, as long as this nation by those prayers confesses that we ought at least to believe in a God who hears our prayers, by land and sea.  Those grand words were perhaps nothing but a form to most of the men who heard them.  But they were a form which bore witness to a truth which was true, even if they forgot it—a truth which they might need some day, and feel the need of, and cling to, as the sailors of old time clung to it.  Those words would surely sink into the men’s ears, and some day, it might be, bear fruit in their hearts.  In storm, in wreck, in battle, and in the hour of death, and in the day of judgment, these words would surely rise in many a brave fellow’s memory, and help him to do his duty like a man, because there was a living Lord and God above him who knew his weakness and would hear his prayers.”

And we, my friends, here safe on land, we have a national prayer, or rather a series of prayers, to Christ as God, which ought to remind us of that noble truth which the 107th Psalm is meant to teach.  You hear it all of you every Sunday morning.  I mean the Litany.  That noble composition, which seems to me more wise as a work of theology, more beautiful as a work of art, the oftener I use it—That Litany, I say, is modelled on the 107th Psalm; and it expresses the very heart and spirit of our forefathers three hundred years ago.  It bids us pray to be delivered from every conceivable harm, to Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  And then it prays for every conceivable blessing, not only for each of us separately, but for this whole nation of England, Great Britain, and Ireland, and for all the nations on earth, and for the heathen and the savage.

Of course, just because it is a National prayer, and meant for all Englishmen alike, all of it does not suit each and every one of us at the same time.  Each heart knows its own bitterness.  Each soul has its own special mercy to ask.  But there is a word in the Litany here, and another there, which will fit each of us in turn, if we will but follow it.  One may have to pray to be delivered from pride, vain-glory, and hypocrisy—another to be delivered from foul living and deadly sin—another to be delivered, or to have those whom he loves delivered, from battle, murder, and sudden death.  Another to be delivered from the dangers of affliction and tribulation; another from the far worse danger of wrath; but all have to pray to be delivered from something.  And all have to pray to the same deliverer—Christ, who was born a Man, died a man, and rose again a man, that He might know what was in man, and be able to succour those who are tempted, seeing that He was tempted in all things like as we are, yet without sin.

But there is a part—the latter part—of that Litany which, I think, many do not understand or feel.  Perhaps they have reason to thank God that they do not understand or feel it; yet, the day may come—a day of sadness, fear, perplexity, sorrow, when they will understand it, and thank God that their forefathers placed it in the prayer-book, for them to fall back upon, as comfort and hope in the day of trouble; putting words into their mouths and thoughts into their hearts, which they, perhaps, never would have found out for themselves.

I mean that latter part of the Litany which talks of the evils which the craft and subtilty of the devil or men work against us, that they may be brought to nought, and by the providence of God’s goodness be dispersed, that we may be hurt by no persecutions—which calls on Christ to arise and deliver us, for His name’s sake and His honour, which pleads before God the noble works which He did in the days of our forefathers; and which continues with short prayers, almost cries, which have something in them of terror, almost of agony.  What have such words to do with us?  Why are they put into the mouths of us English, safe, comfortable, prosperous, above almost all the nations upon earth?

Ah! my friends, those prayers, when they were first put into our prayer-book, were spoken for the hearts of Englishmen.  They were not prayers for one afflicted person here, and another there,—they, too, were National prayers.  They were the cries of the English nation in agony—in the time when, three hundred years ago, the mightiest nations and powers of Europe, temporal and spiritual, were set against this little isle of England, and we expected not merely to be invaded and conquered, but destroyed utterly and horribly with sword and fire, by the fleets and armies of the King of Spain.  In that great danger and war our forefathers cried to God; and they cried all the more earnestly, because they felt that their hands were not clean; that they had plenty and too many sins to be “mercifully forgiven,” and that at best they could but ask God “mercifully to look upon their infirmities,” and, “for the glory of His name, turn from them those evils which they most righteously had deserved.”  But nevertheless they cried unto God in their great agony, because they had the spirit of the old Psalmist, who said, “They cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and He delivered them out of their distress.”

And what answer God made to their prayers all the world knows, or should know.  For if He had not answered their prayer, we should not be here this day, a great, and strong, and prosperous nation, with a pure Church and a free Gospel, and the Holy Bible if he wills, in the hands of the poorest child.  Unless prayer be a dream, and there be no God in heaven worth calling a God—then did God answer the prayers of our forefathers three hundred years ago, when they cried unto Him as one nation in their utter need.