2. St. Paul's spirit was not that of a heginner in the Christian faith. — A man's religion, like most else within him, often begins in selfishness. If it is true religion, it cannot end in selfishness. The child sees in his mother at first only the reservoir of food and comfort. He seeks her bosom for his own sake. By and by he will love her in another way. Not what he can gain from her, but what he can do for her, then becomes his quest. "What must I do to be saved ? " — that is often the sinner's first cry. Keligion is a fleet of life-boats : leap into them, cut away from the sinking vessel, row hard each for himself ! " What must I do to be saved ? " With that cry the sinner may come to Christ. But if he tarries with Jesus the cry will change into, " What may I do to save ? "
Who seeks for heaven alone to save his soul, May keep the path, but will not reach the goal; While he who walks in love may wander far, But God will bring him where the Blessed are.^
3. Such a spirit knows the joy of the Lord. — St. Paul himself, at the very moment when he prayed that he might be accursed from Christ, was entering more fully into the joy of his Lord than he had ever done before, because then, more than ever, that mind was in him which was also in Christ Jesus. As the Master " did not count equality with God a thing to be snatched at as a prize, but emptied himself" even of the "glory which he had with the Father before the world was," of the conscious energy of the Divine attributes, so did the servant count that the glory yet to be revealed was not " a prize " for himself, was content, even while he pressed forward to the mark of his high calling, to forgo even that, and to " empty himself " also of the blessings of the adoption and the promises. And therefore the joy of the servant also, like that of the Master, was unspeakable and full of glory. As the heart knew its own bitterness, the bitterness of
1 E. B. Pusey. * Henry Vau Dyke.
ROMANS IX. 3 175
that self-surrender, so there was a joy with which the stranger did not intermeddle.
^ When Bishop Hannington was only a curate in Devonshire, he gave himself to Christ, and was at length able to write, " I know now that Jesus Christ died for me, and that He is mine, and I am His." He had surrendered himself wholly to Christ. " I am His." Now look at the love that broadened and deepened in the self -surrendered souL In 1882 he started from the coast of Africa for the interior. He was beset with difficulties, but the love within him was unmoved. On the first of August he wrote the beautiful, triumphant words, "I am very happy. Fever is trying, hut it does not take away the joy of the Lordy and keeps me low in the right place." ^
^ The Joy of Christ in His Sacrifice was the joy of man under conditions of heroic unselfishness. The Joy which was set before Him in His Sacrifice was in part this : that He perceived with the delight of heroic unselfishness how His sufferings were preparing Him an access into human hearts, an avenue to their deepest con- fidence. To one who deeply loves humanity, whose passion is the passion of helpfulness, there are moments when suffering, whether of mind or of body, seems worth all it costs, because of the added power that comes through it to understand those who suffer, and to gain their confidence. Though we may have known hours of darkness, hours of humiliation, hours when the burden of living seemed greater than we could bear, who regrets the sufferings of those houi's, if, by means of them, we learned to read the secret of humanity's sorrow in a way that fitted us to meet humanity's need? 2
*[f A touching legend of filial piety has connected itself with one of the great bells in a temple near Peking. A famous worker in metals, it is said, had received the Emperor's command to cast a bell of unusual size, the tone of which was to surpass in richness and melody all other bells. Severe penalties were threatened if he came short of the wishes of his exacting master. He tried and failed, tried and failed again, and was upon the point of giving up his task in despair. At this crisis in his fortunes, his only daughter, a maiden of great beauty and virtue, went secretly to consult an astrologer. The man of magic told her the work could be brought to a successful accomplishment only if the blood of a chaste virgin were mingled with the molten metal, when it was ready to be poured into the mould. Returning home she asked leave to watch her father's work, and when the ingredients had
1 J. A. Clappertou. ' 0. 0. Hall.
176 ANATHEMA FROM CHRIST
been fused and wei'e seething in the vast cauldron, in an outburst of filial piety she threw herself into the sea of fire. The bell thus cast proved of incomparable quality, and whenever it is struck, the natives of the district think they hear the girl's dying cry, in the sweetness and pathos of its notes. Such filial piety, if achieved at all, could only be achieved through struggle and con- aummated in dire distress. The legend represents the last cry of the victim as a weird note of pain, a vox humana trembling up out of inscrutable abysses of tribulation. The Chinese imagina- tion had scarcely soared into those spiritual realms where Divine love can change pain into contentment and deep joy.^