Canon Liddon thus puts it in one of his University sermons, "The subst.i.tution of the suffering Christ arose directly out of the terms of the Incarnation. The human nature which our Lord a.s.sumed was none other than the very nature of the sinner, only without its sin. Therefore He becomes the Redeemer of our several persons, because He is already the Redeemer of this our common nature, which He has made for ever His own."

We have already noticed that it was not the sufferings of Christ which were acceptable to G.o.d the Father. To think this would be to fall back into the very crudest and most repulsive idea of subst.i.tution. No, it was the offering up of the will of Christ that formed the essence of the sacrifice. If we may presume to attempt a mere earthly ill.u.s.tration of so tremendous a matter, let us take the case of a General whose son meets with a terrible death while leading a forlorn hope. The father's heart is torn with anguish both for the death and the circ.u.mstances of it; but at the same time the father's heart swells with pride, ay, even with joy, that his son should have been true to the highest thing in the world--duty.

He Who said, "I come not to do mine own will but the will of Him that sent Me," also said, "I lay My life down of Myself, no man taketh it from Me." Herein is the discipline of sacrifice complete by the using of one's own will to surrender it absolutely to the will of another.

We have spoken so fully of the surrenders of will being made on all sides that we need say no more now on that point, but for further ill.u.s.tration let us turn our thoughts in a somewhat fresh direction.

The example of Belgium is a living witness of the power of self-sacrifice.

G.K. Chesterton has put forth a striking pamphlet ent.i.tled "The Martyrdom of Belgium"; in it he says:

"There are certain quite unique and arresting features about the case of Belgium. To begin with, it cannot be too much considered what a daring stroke of statesmanship--far-sighted, perhaps, but of frightful courage--the King of the Belgians ventured in resisting at all. Of that statesmanship we had the whole advantage, and Belgium the whole disadvantage: she saved France, she saved England--herself she could not save."

Had Belgium yielded instead of standing out, then, humanly speaking, nothing could have averted the immediate success of the German dash for Paris.

Now think for one moment of the solemn obligation this lays upon us in regard to that gallant, struggling, yet temporarily dismembered little nation. We must look after the refugees. There are those who say, "The Government have brought the Belgians over here, let the Government make their support a State matter."

One almost blushes to have to deal with such a sentiment. Could 1_s._ in the income-tax take the place, morally, spiritually, or ethically, of the rich profusion of voluntary aid now being poured forth? The loss to the nation, of that which is purest and n.o.blest in its life, would be simply unspeakable. It is suffering that provides opportunity for the exercise of the highest duty known to man, "Bear ye one another's burdens and so fulfil the law of Christ." Try to picture to yourself, quietly yet resolutely, what it would mean to you to-morrow morning, to find suddenly that you had to leave your house, not in a motor-car for a railway train; no! but to turn out at once, without time to put together any belongings; to tramp, perhaps in pouring rain, along miles of road, foodless, cold, exhausted; seeing those around you dropping out to faint or die by the wayside; not knowing where or how the journey should end. This is what has happened to tens of thousands of Belgians; many, cultured and refined, coming forth penniless from homes of comfort and plenty!

In ministering to the needs of the Belgians you find a glorious privilege, a priceless opportunity. Again, to quote G.K. Chesterton:

"In a sense Belgium could still have saved her face; but she preferred to save Europe. This, it seems to me, gives her a claim on something beyond pity or even grat.i.tude--a claim on our intellectual honour beyond anything that even suffering could extort."

Our Lent is nearly over. With all its opportunities, its calls, its privileges, it is now behind us. Some perhaps began it with high resolves and brave hopes, and are disappointed at the apparently small results. None, we trust, are wholly satisfied with themselves, for that would point to a condition far worse than despair. There is such a thing as divine discontent, and every true Christian should know something of it. For all the conscious failures ask pardon, but do not give up striving.

Standing under the Cross of Christ, as we do to-day, we have a standard for the measuring of ourselves which makes our little efforts at discipline look very poor indeed. Yet He remembers our frame, He knows whereof we are made; He can and will accept the feeblest struggles of our will towards His. Perhaps some progress in the life of grace may have been made, then thank Him and take courage.

Let us just cast our minds back. The discipline of the will means, laying ourselves open to listen to the voice of the living G.o.d. The discipline of the body means, never letting it get the upper hand of the real self. The discipline of the soul means the taking a very serious view of the responsibility of life. The discipline of the spirit means, a close approach to G.o.d by every channel of worship. The discipline of obedience means, that we put self in the background, so that we may exalt the person of Christ. The discipline of sorrow means, that Christ is still present in His suffering ones, and there is our opportunity.

The discipline of bereavement means, the trial of our faith that it may enter into the realities of the spiritual kingdom.

Then comes the crown and climax, the discipline of self-sacrifice.

Place steadily before you the thought of Christ crucified, see there the culmination of all possibility of the offering up of self for others.

No element of completeness was wanting. The sacrifice was voluntary, was made for enemies, brought no return to self.

Strong in His strength go forth ready to spend and be spent, if only by the discipline of self-sacrifice you can lighten the load borne by any one of your fellow-creatures.

What hast Thou done for me, O Mighty Friend, Who lovest to the end?

Reveal Thyself that I may now behold Thy love unknown, untold, Bearing the curse and made a curse for me That blessed and made a blessing I might be.

Wounded for my transgressions, stricken sore, That I might sin no more, Weak, that I might be always strong in Thee: Bound, that I might be free; Acquaint with grief that I might only know Fulness of joy, in everlasting flow.

_For suggested Meditations during the week see Appendix._

IX

=Discipline through Victory=

EASTER DAY

Romans vi. 9

"Christ being raised from the dead dieth no more."

To couple the word discipline with victory may seem incongruous almost to the point of impossibility. Yet, if we look below the surface, we shall see that never is the connection more strong and the need for realising it more urgent.

Lent is over, its special discipline has pa.s.sed, and now the danger begins. The danger is lest any progress made, any victory won, should lead to that self-confidence which can only end in disaster. Success is often a discipline far more fatal in its results than failure.

We celebrate to-day the grandest victory the world has ever known: a victory which sprang out of the depths of an apparently complete defeat.

"We trusted that it was He which should have redeemed Israel." Vain confidence, for how could One Who had died as a malefactor, Who could not save Himself, rescue His nation from the tyranny of the Roman power?

And then He, this stranger Whom they knew not, opened to them the Scriptures; showed them the necessity of the sufferings, and the great climax, in the Resurrection. The ears were dull, the hearts unconvinced, as they generally are by mere argument, till he revealed Himself in "the breaking of bread." The eyes of love could not be deceived and sorrow gave place to joy.

Some dispute has arisen as to whether we ought to pray for victory in this War. The matter is well put by an anonymous writer: "If we are only to pray in matters wherein there is no difference of opinion our prayers will be few, and if we cannot pray for the triumph of honour over falsehood, of respect for treaties over unscrupulousness, of order over cruelty and outrage, for what are we ever to pray? We must pray according to the light we have. And if we end our prayers with the truly Christian supplement 'Nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt,'

we cannot be doing anything contrary to the principles of the highest religion. Surely prayer is, or should be, merely the expression of our best hopes and wishes submitted to a Divine tribunal."

Putting aside the question of prayer, let us consider for a moment what should be our att.i.tude as we look into the future. First and foremost one of confidence and hopefulness. Without arrogance we can say that we believe firmly and strongly in the absolute righteousness of our cause.

In violating the neutrality of Belgium, Germany itself confesses that a wrong was done. A wrong which necessity compelled, as they say. What necessity? That of getting to Paris at the earliest possible moment. And so when Germany prays for victory, as of course it does, and ought, at the same time it has to confess to an initial wrong, which was certainly not made right by the fact that it was the quickest way of accomplishing an end.

We have purposely abstained in these Addresses from fanning flames, or appealing to pa.s.sions. But here is a broad ground upon which, by the very confession of our enemies, we stand on a higher platform. We went to war because we would not break a treaty, nor forsake a friend too weak for self-defence; Germany commenced the war by a treacherous act.

Therefore, strong in the belief that the G.o.d of righteousness will cause the right to triumph, we can calmly look forward to ultimate victory,

To doubt would be disloyalty, To falter would be sin.

Much more might be said in the same direction, but let the broad thought suffice.

The war has produced a type of pessimism which, in some instances, runs almost to disturbance of mental balance. Every reverse is exaggerated, and accepted with a kind of confident despondency; every success discounted and treated with half-hearted incredulity: "The Germans have destroyed another ship; what is our Navy doing?" "Oh, but that's only one little hill; the Germans will have it back soon enough." Surely this kind of pessimism, except where the victim of it is not really responsible, must be as offensive to G.o.d as it is exasperating to man.

But now to turn to our chief thought for the day, that is, the permanence of the victory of Easter Day, "Christ dieth no more." That is why He is called "The first fruits of them that are asleep." Several resurrections are recorded both in the Old and New Testaments, but these are cases of those who were raised by others, and then died again.

Christ raised Himself and death hath no more dominion over Him. The resurrection is permanent and keeps on perpetuating and extending itself in the life of the whole universal Church. It was not an isolated act, but part of a wondrous plan. Not only does it possess doctrinal significance in that plan, but vital force for the carrying of it out.

"He died for our sins," but "He was raised for our justification."

Yes, death's last hope, his strongest fort and prison, Is shattered, never to be built again; And He, the mighty Captive, He is risen, Leaving behind the gate, the bar, the chain.

We are praying constantly, earnestly, that we "may be brought through strife to a lasting peace"; and that "the nations of the world may be united in a firmer fellowship for the promotion of Thy glory and the good of all mankind." No conditions of peace are worth accepting unless they will, humanly speaking, secure this result. Germany on the one side, and the Allies on the other, both realise that this is a "fight to a finish." Singularly enough the object of both sides is similar--to render another great European war impossible: but the ideals in respect to its attainment are by no means the same; one looks to the setting up of a world dominion; the other, to the establishment of a state of balanced power and mutual interests among European nations. We are fighting essentially for the principle of "live and let live," and therefore have to face unflinchingly all the sacrifice that still lies before us. When peace is concluded it must be upon terms which will make results permanent! Should Germany, in the mysterious providence of G.o.d, be allowed to become supreme, there will be peace, but, alas! only the peace of desolation and the numbness of despair. But, as we have already said, it seems disloyal to all our deepest instincts, all our truest feelings, even to contemplate such a possibility.

But when the Allies triumph, what then?--the discipline of victory.

Think for one moment of what the victory of Christ meant, as the ratification of the treaty signed upon the Cross, in the very hour of apparent defeat. It meant for you and me all that is included in the words "the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ; the means of grace and the hope of glory." The resurrection puts the seal to the great charter, commenced at Bethlehem, indited page by page through the wondrous life of three and thirty years, closed, as to its earthly side, on Calvary, sealed, signed and delivered on Easter morning. In the power of that treaty of peace you and I live, day by day; secure except for our own carelessness; beyond all possibility of hurt from spiritual enemies, unless by our own traitorous dealings with them. The victory was complete! "He hath put all enemies under His feet"; the victory is permanent, for, "death hath no more dominion over Him."