^ The world deifies and worships human nature and its im- pulses, and denies the power and the grant of grace. This is the ^ E. H. Hutton, Theological Essays, 347.
i82 THE MAN THAT IS BLESSED
source of the hatred which the world bears to the Church; it finds a whole catalogue of sins brought into light and denounced which it would fain believe to be no sins at all ; it finds itself, to its indignation and impatience, surrounded with sin, morning, noon, and night ; it finds that a stern law lies against it, where it believed that it was its own master and need not think of God ; it finds guilt accumulating upon it hourly, which nothing can prevent, nothing remove, but a higher power, the grace of God. It finds itself in danger of being humbled to the earth as a rebel, instead of being allowed to indulge its self-dependence and self- complacency. Hence it takes its stand on nature, and denies or rejects Divine grace. Like the proud spirit in the beginning, it wishes to find its supreme good in its own self, and nothing above it ; it undertakes to be sufficient for its own happiness ; it has no desire for the supernatural, and therefore does not believe in it. And as nature cannot rise above nature, it will not believe that the narrow way is possible ; it hates those who enter upon it as if pretenders and hypocrites, or laughs at their aspirations as romance and fanaticism, lest it should have to believe in the existence of grace.^
^ I saw a wayfarer entering a city, in the region of Vanity Fair. The city lay upon a hill; and the highway through the centre thereof was steep and rough. By-streets were well paved, but the main thoroughfare was broken and stony ; purposely ne- glected by citizens who have no liking for certain pilgrims or their king. No sooner had this wayfarer passed through the gate than he was accosted by a civil-spoken person who bade him " good morrow," and inquired of his destination. Upon hearing that he was bound for the Celestial City, the stranger deplored the abrupt- ness of the hill, and the rudeness of the way, and begged him to turn aside: — "for though" said he, "the side streets lead farthest round and you will be longer mounting the hill, the walking will be easier, and the top will be gained at last with smaller loss of breath."
Persuaded by so plausible a counsellor, the pilgrim turned aside and found it even as was said, for this ascent was smooth and gentle. Methought, had he known that the stranger's name was " Ungodly," or remembered Evangelist's advice, " Keep thine eyes straight before thee, and let no man's counsel turn thee to the right hand or to the left," it had been otherwise.
Passing through many streets, smoothly paved, but narrow, crooked, and somewhat slippery withal, he came presently to a broad place where tables were spread bountifully, in the open,
* J. H. Newman, Discourses to Mixed Congregations, 148.
PSALM I. I 183
and a great company of people were making merry. He was somewhat faint ; their good cheer whetted more sharply the keen edge of his appetite. Cumbered by the crowd he still essayed to press on, when he was accosted by a jovial voice, and invited without ceremony to eat and drink. He demurred, pleading the urgency of his journey. Whereupon his new acquaintance be- came sober of countenance, and spoke with great respect of the pilgrims and their king. He too was once a pilgrim, and still is minded to gain the Celestial City. 'Tis not far ahead. He knows a short road ; and having tarried yet awhile to make merry with his friends, he hopes to arrive, after all, before the golden gate is shut. Said he, continuing — " You look white, man. Take a pull at this red wine. 'Tis of ancient vintage and much esteemed in these parts." And our pilgrim, used only to quench his thirst with water from the brook, drank, and finding the flavour good, drank to the bottom of the goblet.
The wine which greatly refreshed his tongue seemed nowise to stimulate his feet, and I observed, as the sun declined, that he still lingered conversing amicably with his new-found friend. Moreover his face was flushed, and his eyes were heavy ; I dis- liked the manner of his speech ; and though the revellers around had grown to be noisy and unseemly in their jesting, I thought he rather smiled on them, and certain is it that he did not stop his ears or turn away his face.
Then it seemed to me that many days passed ere I found myself again climbing the steep and rough street that leads through the centre of the city. Nigh half-way up the hill at the corner of a by-street there is a wine-shop much resorted to by men who say there is no God ; who also make it their peculiar pleasure to taunt with bitter gibes such pilgrims as labour up the rugged way. The day was sunny ; chairs and tables were set out of doors ; and not a few had come together to enjoy their refreshment and their fun. I stood apart while several pilgrims passed. Some of them were sore pained by the ribaldry of the scoffers, one of whom exceeded the others in the cruel sharpness of his scorn. He seemed to know the pilgrim life full well ; and his poison shafts struck between the joints of the harness. I drew near to get a clear sight of his face, and was dumb with amazement when I saw that he bore the features of that same pilgrim who had turned aside from the steep way to walk in the counsel of Ungodly, whom I had also seen standing in the way of sinners, and drinking with them from their cup. Then I groaned in spirit, for I thought that he was lost indeed.