There are two ways of taking the ills of life.

One is to forget that God has anything to do with them; to refer them to human, to immediate, to secondary causes; to see in them only steps in a fatal sequence of events, against which the heart sullenly revolts, or under the pressure of which it sinks down in despairing apathy. The other is to seek in them some clear trace of God's Will respecting us. Every trial, loss of friends, loss of income, loss of health, has its appointed lesson. The true course is to seek for the ray of light beyond the darkness; to discover the note of purpose and order in circumstances which look like chaos or chance. It is always there. Every trial has its own appointed lesson; and all trials have certain lessons which are common to all. They may and should leave us different men; with a simpler dependence on Almighty God; with a stronger desire to consecrate life to His service; with more inward separation from sin, its sympathies and associations; with greater readiness to help others in trouble, whether of mind or body. The Church of Jerusalem learnt much from its sorrows on the day that Stephen died. Sickness and pain of body may promote joy and health of soul; the sorrow for departed friends may guide us to love of that One Friend Who is never lost.

The trials which other men bring on us may be not less useful than those which come directly from the Hand of God. Take the case of a perfectly baseless calumny, industriously spread, such as that which has pursued more than one excellent servant of Christ for many years. What is the true way of meeting it? Is it to be treated with lofty disdain, as a brutality or a vulgarity beneath notice? Certainly, that treatment might befit a magnificent pagan, but it would not become a servant of our Lord. Is it to be allowed to prey upon all that is most

sensitive in character; paralyzing resolve, undermining energy, eating out heart? So it has fared with more than one victim of calumny. But this, too, does not become a Christian. In presence of a calumny, the first question for a man to ask himself is, Is it true? Not as a whole, for then it would not be a calumny; but, if not as a whole, yet in part? In the spirit, if not in the letter? And if there be any basis of truth in it, then a Christian will set himself resolutely to better what has to be bettered, and will be grateful for having had his attention directed to the task. If, on the other hand, there is not a shred of ground or justification for the calumny, then be sure that a blessing still attends it, if it be cheerfully and resignedly borne; the blessing of being conformed in this high respect to our Lord Jesus Christ Himself.

One of the most beautiful books in Christian literature is The Spiritual Combat. It was written by a man who suffered from a lifelong calumny. He found in communion with his own heart and with God that which enabled him to triumph over the injustice of his fellow-men, and to leave a legacy of spiritual wisdom to succeeding generations.

The worst trials which come on us are those which are due to our own misconduct. Can we turn our misconduct itself to any good account? Can we force sin to become in some sense an occasion and minister of grace ? Certainly, sin can never be justified on the ground that it does sometimes promote, or may be made to promote, good. Evil directly produces only evil; if it leads to good, it is only as an indirect consequence of itself. One

a The Spiritual Combat, by Scupoli, ed. Pusey; cf. Pref. vi.-viii. This work was adapted to the use of the English Church in the seventeenth century. With the Imitation of Christ, it was the constant companion of Bishop Steere, the heroic missionary in Central Africa.

lie involves another, and generally a worse lie; every lie strengthens the fatal habit of untruthfulness. Even if the lie has screened some evil, the admission or publication of which would cause widespread mischief, yet still the lie remains a lie, with its full measure of moral mischief attaching to it as such for the man who tells it. Thus it never can be right to do evil that good may come; because evil necessarily is, and leads to, evil; while good is only occasioned by it independently of its true drift and nature.

Still, even our sins may sometimes be made occasions or stimulants of good; we may bring good out of these evils. If we can do nothing else after a sin, we can learn truthfulness by confessing it, and humility by bearing it in mind. David could not recall to life the wronged and murdered Uriah; but, in the sincerity of his penitence, he could utter words which have been the language of true penitents ever since." Saul of Tarsus could not undo the long catalogue of violences and wrongs inflicted by him on the Church of Jerusalem; but the memory of it in after years stimulated him to labour more abundantly than all the other Apostles of Christ" for the Church of which he had once made havoc. If we can do no more to repair the effects of past wrongs, we can at least bear them in mind, that they may make us zealous while they keep us humble. In any case, they may lead us to turn with more sincerity to our Divine Redeemer, Who as at this time took our nature upon Him, and was born of a pure Virgin, that we being regenerate, and made His children by adoption and grace, might daily be renewed by His Holy Spirit.

a Ps. li.

b 1 Cor. XV. 10.

e Collect for Christmas Day.

SERMON XII.

OUR KNOWLEDGE IN THE FUTURE.

(SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS: FEAST OF THE HOLY INNOCENTS.)

ST. JOHN XIII. 7.

What I do thou knowest not now; but thou shalt know hereafter.

THIS

HIS saying recalls a period of our Lord's Life altogether remote from that which now occupies the thought and heart of the Church. But it is, like all our Lord's words, of wide applicability; and there are reasons for considering it to-day which will presently appear. Our Lord and His disciples were at the Paschal Supper on the evening before His Death. Suddenly He rises from among the company, lays aside His upper robe, takes a towel, girds Himself, pours water into a basin, begins to wash the disciples' feet, and to wipe them with the towel with which He was girded. The scene is described with the particularity of an eye-witness, whom nothing had escaped, and upon whom every circumstance had made a deep impression. Whether the action which so significantly interrupted the course of the supper was meant to illustrate, as by a parable, something that had been said in the course of conversation, we are not

told. But we are told that it was performed by our Lord in full view of the authority which He wielded, and of all that was involved in His appearance among men. "Jesus knowing that the Father had given all things into His Hands, and that He was come from God, and went to God; He riseth from supper, and laid aside His garments; and took a towel, and girded Himself. After that He poureth water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples' feet, and to wipe them with the towel wherewith He was girded.""

The action, therefore, which followed, simple as it was, evidently had great significance. But what it meant the Apostles did not as yet understand. When our Lord

reached St. Peter, He was met by an expression of surprise: "Lord, dost Thou wash my feet?" To Peter, looking only at the outward act, and thinking it degrading to his Master to be engaged in such menial service, this refusal seemed the natural and considerate expression of his attachment and respect. But Peter was warned that he was mistaken in declining a service of which he did not yet understand the motive. A truer respect would have been shown by at once, and gratefully, accepting it; in the confidence that what was offered by his Master could never safely be declined, and that he himself would learn in a coming time why it had been offered. Indeed, the real meaning of such an action could not be understood by the disciples until after our Lord's Crucifixion, when He shed His Blood "for the remission of sins," or even until after Pentecost, when the Holy Ghost came to teach men, among other things, the true meaning of all that might seem trivial or purposeless in the Life of our Divine Master.

It is our Lord, then, kneeling at the feet of St. Peter, a St. John xiii. 3-5.

b Ib. 6.

c Rom. iii. 25.