THE PROGRAMME OF CHRISTIANITY

To Preach Good Tidings unto the Meek:

To Bind up the Broken-hearted:

To proclaim Liberty to the Captves and the Opening of the Prison to Them that are Bound:

To Proclaim the Acceptable Year of the Lord, and the Day of Vengeance of our God:

To Comfort all that Mourn:

To Appoint unto them that Mourn in Zion:

To Give unto them—

Beauty for Ashes,

The Oil of Joy for Mourning,

The Garment of Praise for the Spirit of Heaviness.

"WHAT does God do all day?" once asked a e boy. One could wsh hat more grown-up people would ask so very real a queston. Unfortunately, most of us are not even boys n relgious ntelgence, but only very unthinking chidren. It no more occurs o us hat God

s engaged n any particular work n he world han t occurs o a

e chid that is father does anything except be s father. Its father

may be a Cabinet Mnister absorbed n he naton's work, or an

nventor deep n schemes for he world's good; but to his master-egoist he s father, and nothing more. Chidhood, whether n he physical or moral world, is the great self-centred period of lfe; and a personal God who satsfies personal ends s all that for a ong me many a Christan understands.

But as clearly as there comes to the growng chid a knowedge of is
father's part in he world, and a sense of what real lfe means, there must come o every Christan whose growh s rue some richer sense of he meaning of Christaniy and a arger view of Christ's purpose for mankind. To mss his s o mss he whole splendour and glory of Christ's relgion.

Next to osing he sense of a personal Christ, the worst evil that can befall a Christan s to have no sense of anything else. To grow up n complacent belef hat God has no business n his great groaning world of human beings except to atend o a few saved souls s he negaton of all relgion. The first great epoch n a Christan's fe, after the awe and wonder of is dawn, is when there breaks nto their mnd some sense hat Christ has a purpose for mankind, a purpose beyond the ndividual and their own needs, beyond the churches and heir creeds, beyond Heaven and s saints—a purpose which embraces every man and woman born, every kindred and naton formed, which regards not heir spiritual good alone but heir welfare n every part, heir progress, heir healh, heir work, heir wages, their happiness in this present world.

What, then, does God do all day? By what further concepton shall we augment the selfish view of why Christ lved and died?

I shall mslead no one, I hope, if I say—for I wsh o put the social side of Christaniy n s strongest ght—that Christ did not come

nto he world o give men relgion. He never mentoned he word relgion. Relgion was n he world before Christ came, and t lves

oday in a mon souls who have never heard His name.

What God does all day is not to sit waing n churches for people to come and worship Him. It is rue hat God s n churches and n all kinds of churches, and s found by many n churches more mmediately han anywhere else. It is also rue hat whie Christ did not give men relgion He gave a new directon o he relgious aspiraton burstng forth hen and now and always from he whole world's heart. But it was His purpose o enlst these aspiratons on behalf of some definie practical good.

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THE PROGRAMME OF CHRISTIANITY

The relgious people of hose days did nothing wh heir relgion except atend to s observances. Even the priest, after he had been to he emple, thought his work was done; when he met the wounded man he passed by on he other side. Christ reversed all this—tried o reverse it, for He is only now beginning to succeed.

The endency of he relgions of all tme has been o care more for relgion han for humaniy; Christ cared more for humaniy han for relgion—rather His care for humaniy was he chief expression of His relgion. He was not indifferent to observances, but the practices of he people bulked n His houghts before he practices of he Church.

It has been pointed out as a blemsh on he mmortal alegory of

Bunyan hat the Pigrim never did anything, anything but save his

soul. The remark s scarcely fair, for he alegory s designedly he

story of a soul in a single relaton; and besides, he did do a le. But

he warning may well be weighed. The Pigrims one hought, his

work by day, his dream by night, was escape. He ook e part in

he world hrough which he passed. He was a Pilgrim ravelng

hrough it; his business was to get through safe.

Whatever his s, t s not Christaniy. Christ's concepton of Christaniy was heavens removed from hat of a man setng out from he Ciy of Destructon o save his soul. It was rather that of a man dwelng amdst he Destructons of he Ciy and planning escapes for the souls of others—escapes not to the other world, but to purity and peace and righteousness in this.

In realy Christ never said "Save your soul." It s a mstranslaton which says hat. What He said was, "Save your fe." And his not because he first s nothing, but only because t s so very great a hing hat only he second can accomplsh t. But he new word alruism—the ranslaton of "love hy neighbour as hyself—s slowy finding is way into current Christan speech.

The People's Progress, not less han he Pigrims Progress, is daiy becomng a graver concern o he Church. A popular heology wh unselfishness as part at least of is root, a theology which appeals no
onger to fear, but to the generous heart in man, has already dawned, and more clearly than ever men and women are beginning to see what Christ really came into this world to do.

What Christ came here for was to make a better world. The world in which we lve is an unfinished world. It is not wise, it is not happy,

t is not pure, it is not good—it is not even sanitary. Humanity is le more than raw material. Almost everything has yet to be done to t. Before the days of Geology people thought the earth was finished. It

s by no means finished. The work of Creation is going on.

Before the spectroscope, men thought the universe was finished. We know now t is just beginning. And this teeming world of people in which we lve has almost all its finer colour and beauty yet to take. Christ came to complete t. The fires of its passions were not yet cool; their heat had to be transformed nto finer energies. The ideals for its future were all to shape, the forces to realize them were not yet born. The poison of its sins had met no antidote, the gloom of its doubt no lght, the weight of its sorrow no rest. These, the Saviour of the world, the Light of men, would do and be. This, roughly, was His scheme.

Now this was a prodigious task—to recreate the world. How was it to be done? God's way of making worlds s to make them make themselves. When He made the earth He made a rough ball of matter and supplied t with a multtude of tools to mould t into form—the rain-drop to carve it, the glacier to smooth t, the river to nourish it, the flower to adorn it. God works always with agents, and this is our way when we want any great thing done, and this was Christ's way when He undertook the finishing of Humanity. He had a vast intractable mass of matter to deal with, and He required a multtude of tools. Christ's tools were men. Hence His first business n the world was to make a collection of men. In other words He founded a Society.

THE FOUNDING OF THE SOCIETY

IT s a somewhat startlng thought—it wil not be misunderstood—

that Christ probably did not save many people while He was here.

Many an evangelist, in that direction, has done much more. He never

ntended to finish the world single-handed, but announced from the

first that others would not only take part, but do "greater things" than

He. For amazing as was the attention He was able to give to

ndividuals, this was not the whole aim He had n view. His

mmediate work was to enlist men n His enterprise, to rally them

nto a great company or Society for the carrying out of His plans.

The name by which this Society was known was The Kingdom oj God. Christ did not coin this name; it was an old expression, and good men had always hoped and prayed that some such Society would be born n their midst. But it was never either defined or set agoing n earnest until Christ made its realization the passion of His fe.

How keenly He felt regarding His task, how enthusiastically He set about it, every page of His lfe bears witness. All reformers have one or two great words which they use ncessantly, and by mere reiteration mbed ndelibly n the thought and history of their tme. Christ's great word was the Kingdom of God. Of all the words of His that have come down to us this s by far the commonest. One hundred mes it occurs in the Gospels. When He preached He had almost always this for a text. His sermons were explanations of the aims of His Society, of the different things it was lke, of whom ts membership consisted, what they were to do or to be, or not do or not be. And even when He does not actually use the word, it is easy to see that all He said and did had reference to this.

Philosophers talk about thinking n categories—the mind ving, as it were, in a particular room with ts own special furniture, pictures, and viewpoints, these giving a consistent direction and colour to all that is there thought or expressed. It was n the category of the Kingdom that Christ's thought moved. Though one tme He said He came to save the ost, or at another tme to give men fe, or to do

Hs Father's wl, these were all included among he objects of Hs Society.

No one can ever know what Christaniy s l he has grasped his

eading hought n he mnd of Christ. Peter and Paul have many

wonderful and necessary hings o ell us about what Christ was and

did; but we are ooking now at what Christ's own hought was. Do

not think this s a mere modern theory. These are Hs own fe-plans

aken from Hs own lps. Do not alow any isolated text, even though

t seems to sum up for you the Christan lfe, to keep you from trying

o understand Christ's Programme as a whole.

The perspectve of Christ's eaching s not everything, but whout it everything wl be distorted and untrue. There s much good n a verse, but often much evil. To see some small soul pirouetng hroughout lfe on a single ext, and judging all the world because t cannot find a partner, is not a Christan sight. Christaniy does not grudge such souls heir comfort. What it grudges s hat they make Christ's Kngdom uninhabiable o houghtful mnds. Be sure hat whenever he relgion of Christ appears small, or forbidding, or narrow, or inhuman, you are dealng not wh he whole—which s a matchless moral symmetry—nor even wh an arch or column—for every detail is perfect—but wh some cold stone removed from s place and suggestng nothing of the glorious structure from which t came.

Tens of thousands of persons who are famar wh relgious ruths have not noticed yet that Christ ever founded a Society at all. The reason s partly hat people have read exts nstead of reading heir Bible, partly hat hey have studied Theology nstead of studying Christaniy, and partly because of the noiselessness and nvisibiy of he Kngdom of God self. Nothing ruer was ever said of his Kngdom than that "It cometh whout observaton."

Its first discovery, herefore, comes o he Christan wh all he

force of a revelaton. The sense of belonging o such a Society

ransforms fe. It s he difference between being a solary knight

ng single-handed, and often defeated, at whatever enemy one

chances to meet on one's le acre of lfe, and the/ee/ of belonging to a mighty army marching throughout all tme to a certain victory. This note of universality given to even the humblest work we do, this sense of comradeship, this lnk with history, this thought of a definite campaign, this promise of success, is the possession of every obscurest unit in the Kingdom of God.

THE PROGRAMME OF THE SOCIETY

HUNDREDS of years before Christ's Society was formed, s

Programme had been ssued o he world. I cannot hink of any

scene n history more dramatic han when Jesus entered he church

n Nazareth and read t to the people. Not that when He appropriated

o Himself hat venerable fragment from Isaiah He was utering a

manifesto or announcing His formal Programme. Christ never did

hings formaly. We hink of he words, as He probably hought of

hem, not n heir old-world historical significance, nor as a full

expression of His future aims, but as a summary of great moral facts

now and always to be realized in the world since he appeared.

Remember as you read he words o what grim realy hey refer. Recall what Christ's problem realy was, what His Society was founded for. This Programme deals wh a real world. Think of it as you read—not of the surf ace-world, but of the world as it is, as t sins and weeps, and curses and suffers and sends up s ong cry o God. Limt it if you ke to the world around your door, but think of it— of

he ciy and he hospial and he dungeon and he graveyard, of he sweat-shop and the pawn-shop and the drink-shop; think of the cold,

he cruely, he fever, he famne, he uglness, he onelness, he pain. And hen ry o keep down he ump n your throat as you ake up His Programme and read—

TO BIND UP THE BROKEN-HEARTED:

TO PROCLAIM LIBERTY TO THE CAPTIVES:

TO COMFORT ALL THAT MOURN:

TO GIVE UNTO THEM-BEAUTY FOR ASHES,

THE OIL OF JOY FOR MOURNING,

THE GARMENT OF PRAISE FOR THE SPIRIT

OF HEAVINESS.

What an exchange—Beauty for Ashes, Joy for Mourning, Liberty for Chains! No wonder "the eyes of all them that were n he synagogue were fastened on Him" as He read; or hat hey "wondered at he gracious words which proceeded out of His ps." Only one man n hat congregaton, only one man n he world oday could hear these accents wh dismay—the man, the culprit, who has said hard words
of Christ.

We are all famar wh he protest "Of course"~as f there were no other alernatve o a person of culure—"Of course I am not a Christan, but I always speak respectfully of Christaniy." Respectfuly of Christaniy! No remark fils one's soul wh such sadness. One can understand a man as he reads hese words being stricken speechless; one can see he soul whin him rise o a whie heat as each fresh benedicton fals upon his ear and drive him, a half-mad enthusiast, to bear hem o he world. But in what school has he earned of Christ who offers he Saviour of he world his respect?

Men repudiate Christ's relgion because hey hink t a small and

med thing, a scheme wh no large human nterests to commend t

o this great social age. I ask you to note that there is not one burning

nterest of he human race which s not represented here. What are

he great words of Christaniy according to this Programme?

Take as specimens these:

LIBERTY, COMFORT, BEAUTY, JOY.

These are among he greatest words of fe. Gve hem heir due extension, the significance which Christ undoubtedly saw n hem and which Christaniy undoubtedly yields, and here s almost no great want or interest of mankind which they do not cover.

These are not only he greatest words of fe but they are he best. This Programme, to hose who have msread Christaniy, is a series of surprises. Observe the most promnent note in it. It is gladness. Its first word s "good- dings," s ast is "joy." The saddest words of fe are also here—but here as he diseases which Christaniy comes to cure. No fe hat is occupied wh such an enterprise could be other than radiant.

The contributon of Christaniy o he oy of ving, perhaps even more to he joy of thinking, s unspeakable. The joyful lfe s the fe of he arger mssion, the disinterested fe, the fe of he overflow from self, he "more abundant fe" which comes from folowng Christ. And the joy of thinking s he arger thinking, the thinking of he man or woman who holds n heir hand some Programme for Humaniy. The Christan s he only one who has any Programme at all— any Programme eiher for the world or for themselves.

Goethe, Byron, Carlyle aught Humaniy much, but hey had no Programme for it. Byron's hinking was suffering; Carlisle's despair. Christaniy alone exuls. The belef n he universe as moral, he

nterpretaton of history as progress, the faih n good as eternal, in evil as self-consumng, n humaniy as evolving—these Christan

deas have ransformed the malady of thought into a bounding hope. It was no sentment but a convicton matured amd calamy and submed o he ests of fe hat inspired he great modern poet of optmsm to proclaim:—

"Gadness be wh thee, Helper of the world!

I think this is the authentic sign and seal

Of Godship, that it ever waxes glad,

And more glad, untl gladness blossoms, bursts

Into a rage to suffer for mankind

And recommence at sorrow."

But that is not all. Man's greatest needs are often very homely. And

t is almost as much n s fearless recognion of the commonplace

woes of fe, and s deliberate offerings o mnor needs, hat he

claims of Christaniy to be a relgion for Humaniy stand. Look, for

nstance, at he closing sentence of his Programme. Who would

have expected to find among the special objects of Christ's soliciude

he Spirit of Heaviness

Supreme needs, many and varied, had been already dealt wh on

his Programme; many applicants had been met; the st is about to

close. Suddenly he writer remembers he nameless malady of he

poor—that mysterious disease which he rich share but cannot
alleviate, which s too subtle for doctors, too ncurable for Parliaments, too unpicturesque for philanthropy, too common even for sympathy. Can Christ meet that?

If Christianity could even deal with the world's Depression, could cure mere dull spirits, it would be the Physician of Humanity. But it can. It has the secret, a hundred secrets, for the lfting of the world's gloom. It cannot immediately remove the physiological causes of dulness-though obedience to ts principles can do an nfinity to prevent them, and ts inspirations can do even more to ft the mind above them. But where the causes are moral or mental or social the remedy is in every Christian's hand.

Think of anyone at this moment whom the Spirit of Heaviness haunts. You think of a certain old woman. But you know for a fact that you can cure her. You did so, perfectly, only a week ago. A mere visit, and a e present, or the visit without any present, set her up for seven long days, and seven long nights.

The machinery of the Kingdom s very simple and very silent, and the most silent parts do most, and we all believe so e n the medicines of Christ that we do not know what ripples of healing are set in motion when we simply smie on one another. Christianity wants nothing so much in the world as sunny people, and the old are hungrier for love than for bread, and the Oil of Joy s very cheap, and f you can help the poor on with a Garment of Praise, it wil be better for them than blankets.

Or perhaps you know someone else who s dull—not an old woman this tme, but a very rich and mportant man. But you also know perfectly what makes him dull. It s either his riches or his mportance. Christianity can cure either of these though you may not be the person to apply the cure—at a single hearing.

Or here s a third case, one of your own servants. It is a case of monotony. Prescribe more variety, leisure, recreation—anything to relieve the wearing strain.

A fourth case—your most honoured guest: Condion—leisure, healh, accomplsh- ments, means; Dsease—Spiritual Obesity; Treatment-alent to be put out to usury. And so on down he whole range of fe's dejecton and ennui.

Perhaps you ell me his s not Christaniy at all; hat everybody could do hat. The curious hing s hat everybody does not. Goodwl to men came nto he world wh Christ, and wherever hat s found, n Christan or heathen and, here Christ s, and here His Spirit works. And f you say hat the chief end of Christaniy s not he world's happiness, I agree; t was never meant o be; but he strange fact s hat, whout making t s chief end, t wholy and nfalibly, and quie universaly, leads o t. Hence he note of Joy, hough not the highest on Christ's Programme, is a oud and ringing note, and none who serve n His Society can be ong whout s music. Time was when a Christan used o apologize for being happy. But the day has always been when he ought to apologize for being mserable.

Christaniy, you wl observe, realy works. And t succeeds not only because t is divine, but because t is so very human—because t

s common-sense. Why should he Garment of Praise destroy he Spirit of Heaviness? Because an old woman cannot sing and cry at

he same moment. The Society of Christ s a sane Society. Its methods are ratonal. The principle n he old woman's case s simply hat one emoton destroys another. Christaniy works, as a raiway man would say, wh points. It swtches souls from valey

nes o mountain nes, not stemmng he currents of fe but diverting them.

In the rich man's case the principle of cure is different, but it is again principle, not necromancy. His spirit of heaviness s caused, lke any other heaviness, by he earth's atracton. Take away he earth and you ake away he atracton. But if Christaniy can do anything t can ake away he earth. By he wder extension of horizon which t gives, by he new standard of values, by he mere setng of fe's small pomps and nterests and admratons in the lght of the Eternal, t dissipates he world wh a breath. All hat ends o abolsh worldlness tends to abolsh unrest, and hence, in the rush of modern
fe, one far-reaching good of all even commonplace Christan preaching, all Christan erature, all which holds he world doggedly o he dea of a God and a future fe, and remnds mankind of Infiniy and Eterniy.

Side by side wh hese nfluences, yet taking he world at a wholy different angle, works another great Christan force. How many opponents of relgion are aware hat one of he specific objects of Christ's society s Beauty? The charge of vulgarity against Christaniy s an old one. If it means that Christaniy deals wh the ruder elements n human nature, it is true, and that is s glory. But if t means hat t has no respect for he finer quales, the charge s baseless.

Christaniy not only encourages whatsoever hings are ovely, but wars against that whole heory of lfe which would exclude hem. It prescribes aestheticism. It proscribes asceticism. And for those who preach o Christans hat n hese enlghtened days hey must raise

he masses by giving hem noble sculptures and beautful paintngs and music and public parks, the answer s hat these hings are all already being given, and given daiy, and wh an increasing sense of

heir importance, by the Society of Christ.

Take away from the world the beautful things which have not come from Christ and you wl make t poorer scarcely at all. Take away from modern cies he paintngs, the monuments, the music for the people, he museums and he parks which are not he gifts of Christan men and Christan municipales, and n ninety cases out of a hundred you wl eave hem unbereft of so much as a well-shaped lamp-post.

It s mpossible o doubt that the Decorator of he World shall not contnue o serve o His ater chidren, and n ever finer forms, the

nspiratons of beautful hings. More fearlessly han he has ever done, he Christan of modern fe wl use he noble spiritual

everages of Art. That this world, the people's world, is a bleak and ugly world, we do not forget; t is ever wh us. But we esteem oo e he mssion of beautful hings n hauntng he mnd wh higher thoughts and begetng the mood which leads to God.

Physical beauty makes moral beauty. Lovelness does more han destroy uglness; it destroys mater. A mere ouch of it in a room, in a street, even on a door knocker, s a spiritual force. Ask he working-man's wfe, and she wl ell you here s a moral effect even n a clean table-cloth. If a barrel-organ n a slum can but drown a curse, let no Christan sience t. The mere ght and colour of the wall-advertisements are a gift of God o he poor man's sombre world.

One Christmas-tme a poor drunkard old me hat he had gone out he night before o ake his usual chance of he emptatons of he street. Close o his door, at a shop wndow, an angel—so he said-arrested him. It was a arge Christmas-card, a glorious whie hing wh nsel wngs, and as t glered n he gas-lght it flashed nto his soul a sudden thought of Heaven. It recaled the earlier heaven of his nfancy, and he hought of his mother n he distant glen, and how t would please her f she got his Christmas angel from her prodigal. Wh money already pledged o he devil he bought he angel, and wh t a new soul and future for himself. That was a real angel. For hat day as I saw s nsel pinions shine n his squald room I knew what Christ's angels were. They are all beautful things, which daiy in common homes are bearing up heavy souls to God.

But do not msunderstand me. This angel was made of pasteboard: a pasteboard angel can never save a soul. Tinsel reflects he sun, but warms nothing. Our Programme must go deeper. Beauty may arrest he drunkard, but it cannot cure him.

It is here hat Christaniy asserts self wh a supreme ndividualy. It is here hat it parts company wh Civiizaton, wh Polics, wh all secular schemes of Social Reform. In s diagnosis of human nature t finds hat which most other systems gnore; which, if hey see, they cannot cure; which, left undestroyed, makes every reform fute, and every inspiraton vain. That thing is Sin.

Christaniy, of all other phianthropies, recognizes hat man's devouring need is Liberty--liberty to stop sinning; to leave the prison of his passions, and shake off he feters of his past. To surround Captives wh statues and pictures, to offer Them-that-are-Bound a
higher wage or a cleaner street or a few more cubic feet of air per head, is solemn rifling. It is a cleaner soul they want; a purer air, or any air at all, for their higher selves.

And where he cleaner soul s o come from apart from Christ I cannot tell. "By no polical alchemy," Herbert Spencer tels us, "can you get golden conduct out of leaden nstncts." The power to set the heart right, o renew he springs of acton, comes from Christ. The sense of the infinie worth of the single soul, and the recoverableness of man at his worst, are he gifts of Christ. The freedom from guit, he forgiveness of sins, come from Christ's Cross; he hope of mmortaly springs from Christ's grave. We beleve n he gospel of beter aws and an mproved environment; we hold he relgion of Christ o be a social relgion; we magnify and call Christan he work of reformers, statesmen, phianthropists, educators, nventors, saniary officers, and all who directy or remotely aid, abet, or further he higher progress of mankind; but n Him alone, n he fulness of that word, do we see the Saviour of the world.

There are earnest and gifted ves oday at work among he poor

whose lps at least wl not name the name of Christ. I speak of them

wh respect; heir shoe-latchets many of us are not worthy o

unloose. But because the creed of the neighbouring mssion-hall is a

ravesty of relgion hey refuse o acknowedge he power of he

ving Christ to stop man's sin, of he dying Christ to forgive t. O

narrowness of breadth! Because here are gnorant doctors do I yet

rail at medicine or start an hospial of my own? Because he poor

raw evangelst, or the narrow ecclesiastic, offer their e all to he

poor, shall I repudiate all they do not know of Christ because of the

e that they do know

Of gospels for he poor which have not some heory, state t how you wl, of personal conversion one cannot have much hope. Personal conversion means for fe a personal relgion, a personal rust in God, a personal debt to Christ, a personal dedicaton o His cause. These, brought about how you wl, are supreme things to aim at, supreme osses f hey are mssed. Sanctficaton wl come o masses only as t comes to individual men; and to work wh Christ's Programme and gnore Christ is o utize he sun's ght whout is
energy.

But this s not the only point at which he uniqueness of this Society appears. There s yet another depth n humaniy which no other system even atempts o sound. We ve n a world not only of sin butofsorrow-

"There is no flock, however watched and tended,

But one dead lamb is there;

There is no home, howe'er defended,

But has one vacant chair."

When he flock hins, and he chair emptes, who s o be near o heal? At that moment he gospels of he world are on rial. In he presence of death how wl hey act? Act! They are bloted out of existence. Phiosophy, Polics, Reforms, are no more. The Picture Galeries close. The sculptures hide. The Commees disperse. There s crape on he door; he world whdraws. Observe, it withdraws. It has no mssion. So awful in is lonelness was this hour hat he Romans paid a professional class; o step n wh s mummeries and try to fill it.

But hat s Christ's own hour. Next o Rghteousness he greatest word of Christaniy s Comfort. Christaniy has almost a monopoly of Comfort . Renan was never nearer the mark han when he spoke of he Bible as "the great Book of he Consolaton of Humaniy." Christ's Programme s full of Comfort, studded wh Comfort: "to bind up the Broken-Hearted, to Comfort all that mourn, to Give unto hem hat mourn n Zion." Even he "good dings" o he "meek" are, in he Hebrew, a message o he "afflicted" or "the poor." The word Gospel self comes down hrough he Greek from his very passage, so hat whatever else Christ's Gospel means t s first an Evangel for suffering man.

One note n his Programme jars wh all the rest. When Christ read from Isaiah hat day He never finished he passage. A errible word, Vengeance, yawned ke a precipice across His path; and n he mddle of a sentence "He closed he Book, and gave t again o he
mnister, and sat down". A Day of Vengeance from our God—these

were he words before which Christ paused. When he prophet

proclaimed t some great historical fulfilment was n his mnd. Had

he people o whom Christ read been able o understand s ethical

equivalents He would probably have read on. For, so understood,

nstead of filng he mnd wh fear, the hought of his dread Day

nspires t wh a solemn gratude. The work of he Avenger s a

necessiy. It is part of God's phianthropy.

For I have but touched he surface n speaking of the sorrow of the world as f it came from people dying. It comes from people ving. Before ever he Broken-Hearted can be healed a hundred greater causes of suffering than death must be destroyed. Before the Captve can be free a vaster prison han his own sins must be demolshed. There are hels on earth nto which no breath of heaven can ever come; hese must be swept away. There are social sois n which only unrighteousness can flourish; these must be broken up.

And hat is he work of the Day of Vengeance. When s hat day? It

s now. Who s he Avenger? Law. What Law Crimnal Law Saniary Law, Social Law, Natural Law. Wherever he poor are

rodden upon or tread upon one another; wherever he air s poison and he water foul; wherever want stares, and vice reigns, and rags rot—there he Avenger akes his stand. Whatever makes t more difficult for he drunkard o reform, for he chidren o be pure, for

he wdow o earn a wage, for any of he wheels of progress o revolve—wh hese he deals. Delay him not. He s he messenger of Christ. Despair of him not, distrust him not. His Day dawns slowy, but his work s sure. Though evil stalks the world, it is on the way to executon; though wrong reigns, it must end n self-combuston. The very nature of things s God's Avenger; the very story of civiizaton

s the history of Christ's Throne.

Anything hat prepares he way for a beter social state s he fit work of he folowers of Christ. Those who work on he more spiritual evels eave oo much unhonoured he slow oil of muludes of unchurched souls who prepare he material or moral environments whout which hese higher abours are n vain. Preventon s Christan as well as cure; and Christaniy ravels
sometmes by he most circuious paths. It is given o some o work for mmediate resuls, and from year o year hey are privieged o reckon up a balance of success. But these are not always the greatest

n he Kngdom of God. The men who get no stmulus from any visible reward, whose lves pass whie the objects for which they toil are stl too far away o comfort them; the men who hold aloof from dazzlng schemes and earn he msunderstanding of he crowd because hey foresee remoter ssues, who even oppose a seemng good because a deeper evil lurks beyond—these are he statesmen of

he Kngdom of God.

THE MACHINERY OF THE SOCIETY

SUCH n dimmest outlne is the Programme of Christ's Society. Did you know that all this was going on in the world? Did you know that Christianity was such a lving and purpose-lke thing? Look back to the day when that Programme was given, and you wil see that it was not merely written on paper. Watch the drama of the moral order rise up, scene after scene, in history. Study the social evolution of humanity, the spread of righteousness, the amelioration of lfe, the freeing of slaves, the elevation of woman, the purification of religion, and ask what these can be f not the coming of the Kingdom of God on earth. For it is precisely through the movements of nations and the lves of men that this Kingdom comes.

Christ might have done all this work Himself, with His own hands. But He did not. The crowning wonder of His scheme s that He entrusted t to men. It is the supreme glory of humanity that the machinery for its redemption should have been placed within itself. I think the saddest thing n Christ's fe was that after founding a Society with aims so glorious He had to go away and leave it. But in reality He did not leave it. The old theory that God made the world, made t as an nventor would make a machine, and then stood ooking on to see t work, has passed away. God s no onger a remote spectator of the natural world, but immanent in t, pervading matter by His present Spirit, and ordering it by His Wl.

So Christ is immanent in men and women. His work is to move their hearts and nspire their lves, and through such hearts to move and reach the world. Only men and women of this world can carry out this work. This humanness, this inwardness, of the Kingdom s one reason why some scarcely see that it exists at all. We measure great movements by the loudness of their advertisement, or the place their externals fill in the public eye. This Kingdom has no externals. The usual methods of propagating a great cause were entirely discarded by Christ. The sword He declined; money He didn't need; lterature He never used; the Church disowned Him; the State crucified Him. Planting His ideals in the hearts of a few poor men, He started them out unheralded to revolutionize the world. They did t by making friends and by making enemies; they went about, did good, sowed
seed, died, and ved again n the ves of those they helped. These n urn, a fracton of hem, did he same. They met, they prayed, they

alked of Christ, they oved, they went among other men, and by act and word passed on heir secret. The machinery of the Kngdom of God s purely social. It acts, not by commandment, but by contagion; not by fiat, but by friendship. "The Kngdom of God s

ke unto eaven, which a woman ook and hid n hree measures of meal tl the whole was leavened."

After all, ke all great discoveries once hey are made, this seems absolutely he most feasible method hat could have been devised. People must ve among other people. People must nfluence other people. Organizatons, instutons, churches, have oo much rigidiy for a hing hat is o flood he world. The only fluid n he world s man. War mght have won for Christ's cause a passing victory; wealh mght have purchased a superficial triumph; polical power mght have gained a temporary success. But in these, there is no note of universaly, of soldarity, of mmortaly. To ve hrough he centuries and pervade the utermost ends of the earth, to stand whie kingdoms otered and civiizatons changed, o survive falen churches and crumblng creeds—there was no soil for he Kngdom of God ke the hearts of common men and women. Some who have writen about his Kngdom have emphasized s moral grandeur, others s universaly, others s adaptaton o man's needs. One great writer speaks of s prodigious originaly, another chiefly notices s success. I confess what almost strikes me most s he mracle of is simpliciy.

Men and women, hen, are he only means God's Spirit has of accomplshing Hs purpose. What men and women? You. Is t worth doing, or s t not? Is t worth whie joining Christ's Society or s t not? What do you do all day? What s your personal stake n he comng of the Kngdom of Christ on earth? You are not interested n relgion, you ell me; you do not care for your "soul". It was not about your relgion I ventured o ask, stl less about your soul. That you have no relgion, that you do not care for your soul, does not absolve you from caring for the world n which you ve. But you do not beleve n his church, you reply, or accept this doctrine, or that. Christ does not, n he first nstance, ask your houghts, but your
work. No man has a right o postpone his life for he sake of his houghts. Why? Because this s a real world, not a think world. Treat t as a real world—act. Think by all means, but think also of what is actual, of what the stern world s, of how much even you, creedless and churchless, could do o make t beter. The hing o be anxious about is not to be right wh man, but wh mankind. And, so far as I know, there is nothing so on all fours wh mankind as Christaniy.

There are versions of Christaniy, it is true, which no self-respectng mnd can do other han disown—versions so hard, so narrow, so unreal, so super-theological, hat practical men can find n hem neiher outet for heir ves nor restng-place for heir houghts. Wh hese we have nothing o do. Wh hese Christ had nothing o do—except to oppose them wh every word and act of His lfe. It too seldom occurs o hose who repudiate Christaniy because of s narrowness or s unpracticalness, s sanctmoniousness or s dulness, that these were he very hings which Christ strove against and unweariedly condemned. It was he one risk of His relgion being given to the common people—an neviable risk which He took whout reserve—that s nfinie ustre should be arnished n he fingering of he crowd or have s great truths narrowed nto mean and unworthy moulds as hey passed from p o p. But though he crowd is the object of Christaniy, it is not is custodian.

Deal wh he Founder of his great Commonwealh Himself. Any man or woman of honest purpose who wl ake he rouble o nquire at first hand what Christaniy realy s, wl find t a hing hey cannot get away from. Whout eiher argument or pressure, by he mere practicalness of is aims and he pathos of is compassions, t forces is august claim upon every serious lfe.

He who oins his Society finds himself n a arge place. The Kngdom of God s a Society of the best men and women, working for the best ends, according to the best methods. Its membership s a mulude whom no man can number; s methods are as various as human nature; s field s he world. It s a Commonwealh, yet t honours a Kng; it is a Social Brotherhood, but it acknowedges he Fatherhood of God. Though not a Phiosophy he world urns o t for lght; though not Polical it is the incubator of all great laws. It is
more human han he State, for t deals wh deeper needs; more Catholic than the Church, for it includes whom the Church rejects. It s a Propaganda, yet it works not by agiaton but by deals. It is a Relgion, yet it holds he worship of God to be mainly he service of man. Though not a Scientfic Society s watchword s Evoluton; hough not an Ethic, t possesses he Sermon on he Mount. This mysterious Society owns no wealh but distributes fortunes. It has no mnutes for history keeps hem; no member's roll for no one could make t. Its entry-money s nothing; s subscripton, all you have The Society never meets and t never adjourns. Its aw s one word-oyaly; is Gospel one message — ove. Verily "Whosoever wl lose his lfe for My sake shall find it."

The Programme for he other fe s not out yet. For his world, for hese facules, for this one short lfe, I know nothing hat is offered o man o compare wh membership n he Kngdom of God. Among he mysteries which compass he world beyond, none s greater han how here can be n store for man a work more wonderful, a fe more God-lke han his. If you know anything beter, lve for it; if not, in he name of God and of Humaniy, carry out Christ's plan.

THE END

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Wallace D. Wattles Henry Drummond