which we have seen that forgiveness is scarcely conceivable. Are we to suppose, then, that He will deflect those laws, and turn them aside, at our bidding? Are we to suppose that those mills of God which, as the ancients said, grind so slowly and grind so very small that nothing escapes them, at the last will be stilled by our prayer? Where is there any room, amidst this moral constitution of the universe, ruled by a moral ruler-where is there any room for the forgiveness of sin? Where can you find the idea of the easily forgiving God which at first seemed so natural? Do you not see that all this magniloquent and windy talk about a merciful and compassionate God, so facile in His forgiveness, is the poor conception of modern Theism-the poorest and lowest conception you can form of God?-that it does not rise above the low thought of the savage, which pictures Him merely as an angry and offended man? Rise but one degree above that-rise in your thought to the conception of Him as the Judge of the earth and the Author and Controller of the moral universe, and all this talk about easy, good-natured forgiveness vanishes as the cloud-wreath vanishes. at the rising of the sun. In the last place, then, let us see what there remains as to the possibility of forgiveness. Does not our reason tell us that, unless these laws which have been described can be suspended, or turned aside, by some power or other, there is no hope of forgiveness? What do we call that power that suspends-turns aside-deflects some natural law by the introduction of a supernatural law? We call it a miracle, and "miracle" is a word which modern science forbids religion to speak. But a miracle, nevertheless, is needed in order to the possibility of forgiveness-as real a miracle as any miracle in the physical universe. Yes, it needs as much a moral miracle on the part of God to save the sinner from the consequences of his sin when he transgresses the moral laws of the universe, as it would need a physical miracle to snatch him from a storm or an earthquake. Thank God, Revelation assures us that, to accomplish this, a miracle has been wrought. What is it that Revelation tells us concerning the Atonement and mediation but this, that this miracle is the mightiest and Divinest of all miracles? that the God who has framed this natural and inexorable constitution of moral law, has entered this natural world, where men sin and suffer by the operation of these terrible laws; has come down and taken unto Himself that sinful and suffering humanity, and made it, in the person of His dear Son, a Divine Man? Does it not tell us how that Son has died, and risen supernaturally to heaven, and that in so doing He has created, by that real and mighty miracle, for every one who dies and rises with Him, a new world, a supernatural world, a world in which they who enter are no longer under the law of sin and its natural penalty, death-but are under the supernatural law of forgiveness and everlasting life? This is what Revelation discloses to us-the miracle of a new world, even the Kingdom of the Lord Jesus Christ, into which we may flee, and, fleeing into which, we may be delivered from the operation of those terrible laws of justice and of punishment from which otherwise there is no escape. Is this, then, to be regarded as a barbarous addition to the idea of forgiveness? Picture to yourselves-if we must come back to the picture of the old Hebrew prophet that we saw early in this sermon, when I described him standing by his altar of sacrifice, and declaring that, the sacrifice was worthless, and that God would accept the offering of his contrite heart instead-picture to yourselves, for one moment, that, on the heart of the prophet that glowed with love and trembled with hope, there had descended some such pitiless demonstration of intellect as we have been striving to set before you-namely, that without a miracle there was no possibility of his contrite heart being accepted of God. Imagine as this conclusion fell coldly and chillingly upon his heart, quenching all his aspirations, as some windy storm of rain may have quenched the brands upon the altar of his sacrifice-imagine that to such a heart there had been given the revelation that Christ has come to us in Himself and in His Gospel, and that the forgiveness, which his intellect had demonstrated as being impossible without a miracle, was to be had by a miracle; that there had come this revelation of the marvel and mystery: "God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son," and that he had seen the might of Omnipotence holding asunder, as nothing but the might of Omnipotence can do, sin and its consequences; would this have been an obstacle instead of an encouragement to him to draw nearer to the Father? There might be still the question, which is ever the question of the sceptical intellect, as to the how and the why of this great miracle of the Atonement. But difficulties of this kind would not have hindered his approach, and need no more hinder your approach, to the Mercy-seat of the Father, than the unfathomed depths of the waters that rose right and left for the passage of the ransomed people of God hindered their passage between the dark walls on to the seashore on the other side. And so we gather up the lessons that this word concerning God's and man's forgiveness has brought us to contemplate. To the idea of forgiveness there come three different parts of man's nature-the conscience, which tells him of a certain and just penalty for sin; the understanding, which tells him, either that there is no such thing as sin at all, or that for sin there can be no forgiveness; and the heart that cries, as the human heart ever will cry, "O God, be merciful to me a sinner!" And there is one doctrine, and one only-there is one revelation, and one only-that meets and answers, and justifies itself as it meets and answers, these three cries from the troubled nature of man. Revelation answers, "There is penalty," and deepens the voice of sorrow by telling us that the penalty is due for an offence against the Father, and that the penalty must consist in being cast out of the supernatural kingdom of forgiveness into the natural kingdom of vengeance. To the reason that demands a miracle, it gives a miracle, and speaks of the mightiest of miracles, the Incarnation and Atonement. And then to the heart, the trembling, anxious, yearning human heart, that still refuses to believe that man is the mere victim of soulless, mechanical law, and insists on believing, in spite of demonstration to the contrary, that there is a compassionate heart in Him who has fashioned us after His image-to that heart it gives an answer, "You may go again to the Father, and may be forgiven." And so we clasp the Gospel to our heart; so we kneel before the Divine presence of the Son of God and man, in whom we see incarnate the miraculous power of Divine forgiveness and of Divine love; and, spite of all hindrances that would bar us from our Father's presence-spite of the sword turned every way which the sceptical understanding still waves between man and his lost paradise-spite of the remorsefulness of our memory-spite of the terrible accusations and demonstrations of our conscience, we can still say this-thank God we can say-God give grace to every one here to be able to say it with all trust and belief of heart, "I will arise and go to my Father, and will say unto Him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and before Thee."" 24 The Study of Nonconformist History. HE subject to which I wish to call attention in this paper is one which, so far as I can recollect, has not often been dealt with in the pages of our magazines; but it is, nevertheless, one in which Nonconformists ought to feel no little interest, and to which they ought to attach no small importance. I am well aware that there are Nonconformists here and there to whom the study of Nonconformist history is by no means a familiar one, and for whom, indeed, the whole question of Nonconformity seems to possess but few, if any, charms. When a member of the congregation to which I am accustomed to preach saw, one Sunday morning, a somewhat imposing bill upon the noticeboard, announcing that his minister would speak at the annual meeting of the County Association on the subject of Nonconformity, he was overheard muttering, "What! Nonconformity again! I wonder when our County Associations will have done parading their precious Nonconformity." He was one of those tepid, Churchified Dissenters, who are so unenlightened concerning the history, as well as the principles, of Nonconformity as to cry down every attempt to bring the subject into public notice. Are there any such persons among the readers of this Magazine? I hope not. But, if there are, let me bespeak their candid and careful attention while I try to show that Nonconformity has a history, that this history is worthy of study, and that in the study of it there are some important advantages to be gained. It is clear that Nonconformity must have a history, because it is at this day a great fact, a mighty power in the land, such a power as no one who wishes to do anything for the moral and religious, to say nothing of the social and political, welfare of the nation can ignore. It is not the strongest force in the State at present, but it is moving on towards that triumphant position, and bids fair to reach it at no very distant date; so that even now statesmen, legislators, and reformers, all religious and political parties, are obliged to take it into account, and to regard it as an important element in every important movement. How has it attained to its present strength and power? Assuredly, not by mere accident, nor by a sort of mushroom growth. That is not the way with great communities, especially with such as have to increase and advance by the law of antagonism. They proceed to their full development, not by a few, quick strides, but by slow and gradual stages. In other words, they have a history. Nonconformity has not become what it is in an hour or a day. In its course it has very much resembled the progress of a great river. Go to the spot where such a river rises, and follow it in all its windings to the sea. At first you find it but a tiny rill, trickling from a mossy opening in a rock; and, for a mile or more, it is so small that it can be easily crossed without the aid of bridge or boat. By-and-by other rivulets flow into it, and as it runs through yonder valley it gathers volume and velocity enough to slake the thirst and wash away the refuse of villages and towns. Still growing as it glides along, it becomes wide and deep, bearing on its bosom no small portion of the commerce of the world. Increasing yet further as it flows, it expands into a noble estuary, and mingles its mighty waters with the sea. Even thus has it been with our Nonconformity. It has not come with sudden, startling power upon society. It has not sprung to its present greatness by a single leap. Like the small beginning of a swelling river was its commencement in England Even as far back as the reign of Elizabeth, which was really the period of the foundation of the present Church of England, there were a few who detested the formalism of the Church, resented its restrictions, and were bold enough to separate themselves from it. In subsequent reigns, the number of these went on increasing, until at length in 1662 the memorable "Two Thousand" said, "We can conform no longer;" and out of the Church they came. From that moment Nonconformity grew and spread with a rapidity truly amazing; and to-day, such is its magnitude, that it embraces a full half of our population. Yes, Nonconformity has a history-a history neither short nor inconsiderable. And, happily for us, its history does not remain altogether unwritten. The poet Cowper laments the neglect with which Englishmen have treated the memory of their heroic forefathers in the words: "With their names No bard embalms and sanctifies his song,- Is cold on this." |