The Greatest Thing in the World
An Address
Henry Drummond
THOUGH
I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not Love, I am become
as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of
prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have
all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing.
And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to
be burned, and have not Love, it profiteth me nothing.
Love suffereth long, and is kind;
Love envieth not;
Love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed
up,
Doth not behave itself unseemly,
Seeketh not her own,
Is not easily provoked,
Thinketh no evil;
Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth
in the truth;
Beareth all things, believeth all things,
hopeth all
things, endureth all things.
Love
never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there
be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.
For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is
come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I
spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I
became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass,
darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even
as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, Love, these three; but the
greatest of these is Love. — I Cor. xiii.
THE GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD
Every
one has asked himself the great question of antiquity as of the modern world:
What is the summum bonum — the supreme good? You
have life before you. Once only you can live it. What is the noblest object of
desire, the supreme gift to covet?
We
have been accustomed to be told that the greatest thing in the religious world
is Faith. That great word has been the key-note for centuries of the popular
religion; and we have easily learned to look upon it as the greatest thing in
the world. Well, we are wrong. If we have been told that, we may miss the mark.
I have taken you, in the chapter which I have just read, to Christianity at its
source; and there we have seen, "The greatest of these is love." It
is not an oversight. Paul was speaking of faith just a moment before. He says,
"If I have all faith, so that I can remove mountains, and have not love, I
am nothing." So far from forgetting he deliberately contrasts them,
"Now abideth Faith, Hope, Love," and without a moment's hesitation
the decision falls, "The greatest of these is Love."
And
it is not prejudice. A man is apt to recommend to others his own strong point.
Love was not Paul's strong point. The observing student can detect a beautiful
tenderness growing and ripening all through his character as Paul gets old; but
the hand that wrote, "The greatest of these is love," when we meet it
first, is stained with blood.
Nor
is this letter to the Corinthians peculiar in singling out love as the summum bonum. The masterpieces of
Christianity are agreed about it. Peter says, "Above all things have
fervent love among yourselves." Above all things. And John goes farther,
"God is love." And you remember the profound remark which Paul makes
elsewhere, "Love is the fulfilling of the law." Did you ever think
what he meant by that? In those days men were working their passage to Heaven
by keeping the Ten Commandments, and the hundred and ten other commandments
which they had manufactured out of them. Christ said, I will show you a more
simple way. If you do one thing, you will do these hundred and ten things,
without ever thinking about them. If you love, you will unconsciously fulfil
the whole law. And you can readily see for yourselves how that must be so. Take
any of the commandments. "Thou shalt have no other gods before Me."
If a man love God, you will not require to tell him that? Love is the
fulfilling of that law. "Take not His name in vain." Would he ever
dream of taking His name in vain if he loved Him? "Remember the Sabbath
day to keep it holy." Would he not be too glad to have one day in seven to
dedicate more exclusively to the object of his affection? Love would fulfil all
these laws regarding God. And so, if he loved Man, you would never think of
telling him to honour his father and mother. He could not do anything else. It
would be preposterous to tell him not to kill. You could only insult him if you
suggested that he should not steal — how could he steal from those he loved? It
would be superfluous to beg him not to bear false witness against his
neighbour. If he loved him it would be the last thing he would do. And you
would never dream of urging him not to covet what his neighbours had. He would
rather they possessed it than himself. In this way "Love is the fulfilling
of the law." It is the rule for fulfilling all rules, the new commandment
for keeping all the old commandments, Christ's one secret of the Christian
life.
Now
Paul had learned that; and in this noble eulogy he has given us the most
wonderful and original account extant of the summum bonum. We may divide it into
three parts. In the beginning of the short chapter, we have Love contrasted; in the heart of it, we
have Love analysed; towards the end, we have Love defended as the supreme gift.
THE
CONTRAST
Paul
begins by contrasting Love with other things that men in those days thought
much of. I shall not attempt to go over those things in detail. Their
inferiority is already obvious.
He
contrasts it with eloquence. And what a noble gift it is, the power of playing
upon the souls and wills of men, and rousing them to lofty purposes and holy
deeds. Paul says, "If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and
have not love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal." And
we all know why. We have all felt the brazenness of words without emotion, the
hollowness, the unaccountable unpersuasiveness, of eloquence behind which lies
no Love.
He
contrasts it with prophecy. He contrasts it with mysteries. He contrasts it
with faith. He contrasts it with charity. Why is Love greater than faith? Because
the end is greater than the means. And why is it greater than charity? Because
the whole is greater than the part. Love is greater than faith, because the end
is greater than the means. What is the use of having faith? It is to connect
the soul with God. And what is the object of connecting man with God? That he
may become like God. But God is Love. Hence Faith, the means, is in order to
Love, the end. Love, therefore, obviously is greater than faith. It is greater
than charity, again, because the whole is greater than a part. Charity is only
a little bit of Love, one of the innumerable avenues of Love, and there may
even be, and there is, a great deal of charity without Love. It is a very easy
thing to toss a copper to a beggar on the street; it is generally an easier
thing than not to do it. Yet Love is just as often in the withholding. We
purchase relief from the sympathetic feelings roused by the spectacle of
misery, at the copper's cost. It is too cheap — too cheap for us, and often too
dear for the beggar. If we really loved him we would either do more for him, or
less.
Then
Paul contrasts it with sacrifice and martyrdom. And I beg the little band of
would-be missionaries — and I have the honour to call some of you by this name
for the first time — to remember that though you give your bodies to be burned,
and have not Love, it profits nothing — nothing! You can take nothing greater
to the heathen world than the impress and reflection of the Love of God upon
your own character. That is the universal language. It will take you years to
speak in Chinese, or in the dialects of India. From the day you land, that
language of Love, understood by all, will be pouring forth its unconscious
eloquence. It is the man who is the missionary, it is not his words. His
character is his message. In the heart of Africa, among the great Lakes, I have
come across black men and women who remembered the only white man they ever saw
before — David Livingstone; and as you cross his footsteps in that dark
continent, men's faces light up as they speak of the kind Doctor who passed
there years ago. They could not understand him; but they felt the Love that
beat in his heart. Take into your new sphere of labour, where you also mean to
lay down your life, that simple charm, and your lifework must succeed. You can
take nothing greater, you need take nothing less. It is not worth while going
if you take anything less. You may take every accomplishment; you may be braced
for every sacrifice; but if you give your body to be burned, and have not Love,
it will profit you and the cause of Christ nothing.
THE
ANALYSIS
After
contrasting Love with these things, Paul, in three verses, very short, gives us
an amazing analysis of what this supreme thing is. I ask you to look at it. It
is a compound thing, he tells us. It is like light. As you have seen a man of
science take a beam of light and pass it through a crystal prism, as you have
seen it come out on the other side of the prism broken up into its component
colours — red, and blue, and yellow, and violet, and orange, and all the
colours of the rainbow — so Paul passes this thing, Love, through the
magnificent prism of his inspired intellect, and it comes out on the other side
broken up into its elements. And in these few words we have what one might call
the Spectrum of Love, the analysis of Love. Will you observe what its elements
are? Will you notice that they have common names; that they are virtues which
we hear about every day, that they are things which can be practised by every
man in every place in life; and how, by a multitude of small things and
ordinary virtues, the supreme thing, the summum bonum, is made up?
The
Spectrum of Love has nine ingredients: —
Patience "Love suffereth
long."
Kindness "And is kind."
Generosity "Love envieth
not"
Humility "Love vaunteth not
itself, is not puffed up."
Courtesy "Doth not behave
itself unseemly."
Unselfishness "Seeketh not her
own."
Good
Temper "Is not easily
provoked."
Guilelessness "Thinketh no
evil."
Sincerity "Rejoiceth not in
iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth."
Patience;
kindness; generosity; humility; courtesy; unselfishness; good temper;
guilelessness; sincerity — these make up the supreme gift, the
stature of the perfect man. You will observe that all are in relation to men,
in relation to life, in relation to the known to-day and the near to-morrow,
and not to the unknown eternity. We hear much of love to God; Christ spoke much
of love to man. We make a great deal of peace with heaven; Christ made much of
peace on earth. Religion is not a strange or added thing, but the inspiration
of the secular life, the breathing of an eternal spirit through this temporal
world. The supreme thing, in short, is not a thing at all, but the giving of a
further finish to the multitudinous words and acts which make up the sum of
every common day.
There
is no time to do more than make a passing note upon each of these ingredients.
Love is Patience. This is the normal attitude of Love;
Love passive, Love waiting to begin; not in a hurry; calm; ready to do its work
when the summons comes, but meantime wearing the ornament of a meek and quiet
spirit. Love suffers long; beareth all things; believeth all things; hopeth all
things. For Love understands, and therefore waits.
Kindness. Love active. Have you
ever noticed how much of Christ's life was spent in doing kind things — in merely doing kind things? Run
over it with that in view, and you will find that He spent a great proportion
of His time simply in making people happy, in doing good turns to people. There
is only one thing greater than happiness in the world, and that is holiness;
and it is not in our keeping; but what God has put in our power is the
happiness of those about us, and that is largely to be secured by our being
kind to them.
"The
greatest thing," says some one, "a man can do for his Heavenly Father
is to be kind to some of His other children." I wonder why it is that we
are not all kinder than we are? How much the world needs it. How easily it is
done. How instantaneously it acts. How infallibly it is remembered. How
super-abundantly it pays itself back — for there is no debtor in the world so
honourable, so superbly honourable, as Love. "Love never faileth."
Love is success, Love is happiness, Love is life. "Love, I say," with
Browning, "is energy of Life."
"For life, with all it yields of joy and woe
And hope and fear,
Is just our chance o' the prize of learning love, —
How love might be, hath been indeed, and is."
Where
Love is, God is. He that dwelleth in Love dwelleth in God. God is Love.
Therefore love. Without distinction, without
calculation, without procrastination, love. Lavish it upon the poor, where it
is very easy; especially upon the rich, who often need it most; most of all
upon our equals, where it is very difficult, and for whom perhaps we each do
least of all. There is a difference between trying to pleaseand giving pleasure. Give pleasure. Lose no
chance of giving pleasure. For that is the ceaseless and anonymous triumph of a
truly loving spirit. "I shall pass through this world but once. Any good
thing therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any human
being, let me do it now. Let me not defer it or neglect it, for I shall not
pass this way again."
Generosity. "Love envieth
not." This is love in competition with others. Whenever you attempt a good
work you will find other men doing the same kind of work, and probably doing it
better. Envy them not. Envy is a feeling of ill-will to those who are in the
same line as ourselves, a spirit of covetousness and detraction. How little
Christian work even is a protection against un-Christian feeling. That most
despicable of all the unworthy moods which cloud a Christian's soul assuredly
waits for us on the threshold of every work, unless we are fortified with this
grace of magnanimity. Only one thing truly need the Christian envy, the large,
rich, generous soul which "envieth not"
And
then, after having learned all that, you have to learn this further thing, Humility — to put a seal upon
your lips and forget what you have done. After you have been kind, after Love
has stolen forth into the world and done its beautiful work, go back into the
shade again and say nothing about it. Love hides even from itself. Love waives
even self-satisfaction. "Love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up."
The
fifth ingredient is a somewhat strange one to find in this summum bonum: Courtesy. This is Love in
society, Love in relation to etiquette. "Love doth not behave itself
unseemly." Politeness has been defined as love in trifles. Courtesy is
said to be love in little things. And the one secret of politeness is to love.
Love cannot behave itself unseemly.
You can put the most untutored person into the highest society, and if they
have a reservoir of Love in their heart, they will not behave themselves
unseemly. They simply cannot do it. Carlyle said of Robert Burns that there was
no truer gentleman in Europe than the ploughman-poet. It was because he loved
everything — the mouse, and the daisy, and all the things, great and small,
that God had made. So with this simple passport he could mingle with any
society, and enter courts and palaces from his little cottage on the banks of
the Ayr. You know the meaning of the word "gentleman." It means a
gentle man — a man who does things gently, with love. And that is the whole art
and mystery of it. The gentle man cannot in the nature of things do an
ungentle, an ungentlemanly thing. The ungentle soul, the inconsiderate,
unsympathetic nature cannot do anything else. "Love doth not behave itself
unseemly."
Unselfishness. "Love seeketh not
her own." Observe: Seeketh not even that which is her own. In Britain the
Englishman is devoted, and rightly, to his rights. But there come times when a
man may exercise even the higher right of giving up his rights. Yet Paul does
not summon us to give up our rights. Love strikes much deeper. It would have us
not seek them at all, ignore them, eliminate the personal element altogether
from our calculations. It is not hard to give up our rights. They are often
external. The difficult thing is to give up ourselves. The more difficult thing
still is not to seek things for ourselves at all. After we have sought them,
bought them, won them, deserved them, we have taken the cream off them for
ourselves already. Little cross then perhaps to give them up. But not to seek
them, to look every man not on his own things, but on the things of others — id opus est. "Seekest thou
great things for thyself?" said the prophet; "seek them not."
Why? Because there is no greatness in things. Things cannot be
great. The only greatness is unselfish love. Even self-denial in itself is
nothing, is almost a mistake. Only a great purpose or a mightier love can
justify the waste. It is more difficult, I have said, not to seek our own at
all, than, having sought it, to give it up. I must take that back. It is only
true of a partly selfish heart. Nothing is a hardship to Love, and nothing is
hard. I believe that Christ's yoke is easy. Christ's "yoke" is just
His way of taking life. And I believe it is an easier way than any other. I
believe it is a happier way than any other. The most obvious lesson in Christ's
teaching is that there is no happiness in having and getting anything, but only
in giving. I repeat, there is no happiness in having or in
getting, but only in giving. And half the world is on the wrong scent in the
pursuit of happiness. They think it consists in having and getting, and in
being served by others. It consists in giving, and in serving others. He that
would be great among you, said Christ, let him serve. He that would be happy,
let him remember that there is but one way — it is more blessed, it is more
happy, to give than to receive.
The
next ingredient is a very remarkable one: Good Temper. "Love is not
easily provoked." Nothing could be more striking than to find this here.
We are inclined to look upon bad temper as a very harmless weakness. We speak
of it as a mere infirmity of nature, a family failing, a matter of temperament,
not a thing to take into very serious account in estimating a man's character.
And yet here, right in the heart of this analysis of love, it finds a place;
and the Bible again and again returns to condemn it as one of the most
destructive elements in human nature.
The
peculiarity of ill temper is that it is the vice of the virtuous. It is often
the one blot on an otherwise noble character. You know men who are all but
perfect, and women who would be entirely perfect, but for an easily ruffled,
quick-tempered, or "touchy" disposition. This compatibility of ill
temper with high moral character is one of the strangest and saddest problems
of ethics. The truth is there are two great classes of sins — sins of the Body, and sins of the Disposition. The Prodigal Son may
be taken as a type of the first, the Elder Brother of the second. Now society
has no doubt whatever as to which of these is the worse. Its brand falls,
without a challenge, upon the Prodigal. But are we right? We have no balance to
weigh one another's sins, and coarser and finer are but human words; but faults
in the higher nature may be less venial than those in the lower, and to the eye
of Him who is Love, a sin against Love may seem a hundred times more base. No
form of vice, not worldliness, not greed of gold, not drunkenness itself, does
more to un-Christianise society than evil temper. For embittering life, for
breaking up communities, for destroying the most sacred relationships, for
devastating homes, for withering up men and women, for taking the bloom off
childhood, in short, for sheer gratuitous misery-producing power, this
influence stands alone. Look at the Elder Brother, moral, hard-working,
patient, dutiful — let him get all credit for his virtues — look at this man,
this baby, sulking outside his own father's door. "He was angry," we
read, "and would not go in." Look at the effect upon the father, upon
the servants, upon the happiness of the guests. Judge of the effect upon the
Prodigal — and how many prodigals are kept out of the Kingdom of God by the
unlovely characters of those who profess to be inside? Analyse, as a study in
Temper, the thunder-cloud itself as it gathers upon the Elder Brother's brow.
What is it made of? Jealousy, anger, pride, uncharity, cruelty,
self-righteousness, touchiness, doggedness, sullenness — these are the
ingredients of this dark and loveless soul. In varying proportions, also, these
are the ingredients of all ill temper. Judge if such sins of the disposition
are not worse to live in, and for others to live with, than sins of the body.
Did Christ indeed not answer the question Himself when He said, "I say
unto you, that the publicans and the harlots go into the Kingdom of Heaven
before you." There is really no place in Heaven for a disposition like
this. A man with such a mood could only make Heaven miserable for all the people
in it. Except, therefore, such a man be born again, he cannot, he simply cannot, enter the Kingdom of
Heaven. For it is perfectly certain — and you will not misunderstand me — that
to enter Heaven a man must take it with him.
You
will see then why Temper is significant. It is not in what it is alone, but in
what it reveals. This is why I take the liberty now of speaking of it with such
unusual plainness. It is a test for love, a symptom, a revelation of an
unloving nature at bottom. It is the intermittent fever which bespeaks
unintermittent disease within; the occasional bubble escaping to the surface
which betrays some rottenness underneath; a sample of the most hidden products
of the soul dropped involuntarily when off one's guard; in a word, the lightning
form of a hundred hideous and un-Christian sins. For a want of patience, a want
of kindness, a want of generosity, a want of courtesy, a want of unselfishness,
are all instantaneously symbolised in one flash of Temper.
Hence
it is not enough to deal with the Temper. We must go to the source, and change
the inmost nature, and the angry humours will die away of themselves. Souls are
made sweet not by taking the acid fluids out, but by putting something in — a
great Love, a new Spirit, the Spirit of Christ. Christ, the Spirit of Christ,
interpenetrating ours, sweetens, purifies, transforms all. This only can
eradicate what is wrong, work a chemical change, renovate and regenerate, and
rehabilitate the inner man. Will-power does not change men. Time does not
change men. Christ does. Therefore "Let that mind be in you which was also
in Christ Jesus." Some of us have not much time to lose. Remember, once
more, that this is a matter of life or death. I cannot help speaking urgently,
for myself, for yourselves. "Whoso shall offend one of these little ones,
which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about
his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea." That is to
say, it is the deliberate verdict of the Lord Jesus that it is better not to
live than not to love. It is better not to live than not to love.
Guilelessness and Sincerity may be dismissed almost
with a word. Guilelessness is the grace for suspicious people. And the
possession of it is the great secret of personal influence. You will find, if
you think for a moment, that the people who influence you are people who
believe in you. In an atmosphere of suspicion men shrivel up; but in that
atmosphere they expand, and find encouragement and educative fellowship. It is
a wonderful thing that here and there in this hard, uncharitable world there
should still be left a few rare souls who think no evil. This is the great
unworldliness. Love "thinketh no evil," imputes no motive, sees the
bright side, puts the best construction on every action. What a delightful
state of mind to live in! What a stimulus and benediction even to meet with it
for a day! To be trusted is to be saved. And if we try to influence or elevate
others, we shall soon see that success is in proportion to their belief of our
belief in them. For the respect of another is the first restoration of the
self-respect a man has lost; our ideal of what he is becomes to him the hope
and pattern of what he may become.
"Love
rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth." I have called this Sincerity from the words rendered
in the Authorised Version by "rejoiceth in the truth." And,
certainly, were this the real translation, nothing could be more just. For he
who loves will love Truth not less than men. He will rejoice in the Truth —
rejoice not in what he has been taught to believe; not in this Church's
doctrine or in that; not in this ism or in that ism; but "in the Truth." He will accept
only what is real; he will strive to get at facts; he will search for Truth with a humble and
unbiassed mind, and cherish whatever he finds at any sacrifice. But the more
literal translation of the Revised Version calls for just such a sacrifice for
truth's sake here. For what Paul really meant is, as we there read,
"Rejoiceth not in unrighteousness, but rejoiceth with the truth," a
quality which probably no one English word — and certainly not Sincerity — adequately defines. It
includes, perhaps more strictly, the self-restraint which refuses to make
capital out of others' faults; the charity which delights not in exposing the
weakness of others, but "covereth all things;" the sincerity of
purpose which endeavours to see things as they are, and rejoices to find them
better than suspicion feared or calumny denounced.
So
much for the analysis of Love. Now the business of our lives is to have these
things fitted into our characters. That is the supreme work to which we need to
address ourselves in this world, to learn Love. Is life not full of
opportunities for learning Love? Every man and woman every day has a thousand
of them. The world is not a playground; it is a schoolroom. Life is not a
holiday, but an education. And the one eternal lesson for us all is how better we can love. What makes a man a
good cricketer? Practice. What makes a man a good artist, a good sculptor, a
good musician? Practice. What makes a man a good linguist, a good stenographer?
Practice. What makes a man a good man? Practice. Nothing else. There is nothing
capricious about religion. We do not get the soul in different ways, under
different laws, from those in which we get the body and the mind. If a man does
not exercise his arm he develops no biceps muscle; and if a man does not
exercise his soul, he acquires no muscle in his soul, no strength of character,
no vigour of moral fibre, nor beauty of spiritual growth. Love is not a thing
of enthusiastic emotion. It is a rich, strong, manly, vigorous expression of
the whole round Christian character — the Christlike nature in its fullest
development. And the constituents of this great character are only to be built
up by ceaseless practice.
What
was Christ doing in the carpenter's shop? Practising. Though perfect, we read
that He learned obedience, He increased in wisdom and in favour
with God and man. Do not quarrel therefore with your lot in life. Do not
complain of its never-ceasing cares, its petty environment, the vexations you
have to stand, the small and sordid souls you have to live and work with. Above
all, do not resent temptation; do not be perplexed because it seems to thicken
round you more and more, and ceases neither for effort nor for agony nor
prayer. That is the practice which God appoints you; and it is having its work
in making you patient, and humble, and generous, and unselfish, and kind, and
courteous. Do not grudge the hand that is moulding the still too shapeless
image within you. It is growing more beautiful, though you see it not, and
every touch of temptation may add to its perfection. Therefore keep in the
midst of life. Do not isolate yourself. Be among men, and among things, and
among troubles, and difficulties, and obstacles. You remember Goethe's words: Es bildet ein Talent
sich in der Stille, Doch ein Character in dem Strom der Welt. "Talent develops
itself in solitude; character in the stream of life." Talent develops
itself in solitude — the talent of prayer, of faith, of meditation, of seeing
the unseen; Character grows in the stream of the world's life. That chiefly is
where men are to learn love.
How?
Now, how? To make it easier, I have named a few of the elements of love. But
these are only elements. Love itself can never be defined. Light is a something
more than the sum of its ingredients — a glowing, dazzling, tremulous ether.
And love is something more than all its elements — a palpitating, quivering,
sensitive, living thing. By synthesis of all the colours, men can make
whiteness, they cannot make light. By synthesis of all the virtues, men can
make virtue, they cannot make love. How then are we to have this transcendent living
whole conveyed into our souls? We brace our wills to secure it. We try to copy
those who have it. We lay down rules about it. We watch. We pray. But these
things alone will not bring Love into our nature. Love is an effect. And only as we fulfil
the right condition can we have the effect produced. Shall I tell you what the cause is?
If
you turn to the Revised Version of the First Epistle of John you will find
these words: "We love because He first loved us." "We
love," not "We love Him." That is the way the old version
has it, and it is quite wrong. "We love — because He first loved
us." Look at that word "because." It is the cause of which I have spoken.
"Because He first loved us," the effect
follows that we love, we love Him, we love all men. We cannot help it. Because
He loved us, we love, we love everybody. Our heart is slowly changed.
Contemplate the love of Christ, and you will love. Stand before that mirror,
reflect Christ's character, and you will be changed into the same image from
tenderness to tenderness. There is no other way. You cannot love to order. You
can only look at the lovely object, and fall in love with it, and grow into
likeness to it. And so look at this Perfect Character, this Perfect Life. Look
at the great Sacrifice as He laid down Himself, all through life, and upon the
Cross of Calvary; and you must love Him. And loving Him, you must become like
Him. Love begets love. It is a process of induction. Put a piece of iron in the
presence of an electrified body, and that piece of iron for a time becomes
electrified. It is changed into a temporary magnet in the mere presence of a
permanent magnet, and as long as you leave the two side by side, they are both
magnets alike. Remain side by side with Him who loved us, and gave Himself for
us, and you too will become a permanent magnet, a permanently attractive force;
and like Him you will draw all men unto you, like Him you will be drawn unto
all men. That is the inevitable effect of Love. Any man who fulfils that cause
must have that effect produced in him. Try to give up the idea that religion
comes to us by chance, or by mystery, or by caprice. It comes to us by natural
law, or by supernatural law, for all law is Divine. Edward Irving went to see a
dying boy once, and when he entered the room he just put his hand on the
sufferer's head, and said, "My boy, God loves you," and went away.
And the boy started from his bed, and called out to the people in the house,
"God loves me! God loves me!" It changed that boy. The sense that God
loved him overpowered him, melted him down, and began the creating of a new
heart in him. And that is how the love of God melts down the unlovely heart in
man, and begets in him the new creature, who is patient and humble and gentle
and unselfish. And there is no other way to get it. There is no mystery about
it. We love others, we love everybody, we love our enemies, because He first
loved us.
THE
DEFENCE
Now
I have a closing sentence or two to add about Paul's reason for singling out
love as the supreme possession. It is a very remarkable reason. In a single
word it is this: it lasts. "Love," urges Paul,
"never faileth." Then he begins again one of his marvellous lists of
the great things of the day, and exposes them one by one. He runs over the
things that men thought were going to last, and shows that they are all
fleeting, temporary, passing away.
"Whether
there be prophecies, they shall fail." It was the mother's ambition for
her boy in those days that he should become a prophet. For hundreds of years God
had never spoken by means of any prophet, and at that time the prophet was
greater than the King. Men waited wistfully for another messenger to come, and
hung upon his lips when he appeared as upon the very voice of God. Paul says,
"Whether there be prophecies, they shall fail." This Book is full of
prophecies. One by one they have "failed"; that is, having been
fulfilled their work is finished; they have nothing more to do now in the world
except to feed a devout man's faith.
Then
Paul talks about tongues. That was another thing that was greatly coveted.
"Whether there be tongues, they shall cease." As we all know, many,
many centuries have passed since tongues have been known in this world. They
have ceased. Take it in any sense you like. Take it, for illustration merely,
as languages in general — a sense which was not in Paul's mind at all, and
which though it cannot give us the specific lesson will point the general
truth. Consider the words in which these chapters were written — Greek. It has
gone. Take the Latin — the other great tongue of those days. It ceased long
ago. Look at the Indian language. It is ceasing. The language of Wales, of
Ireland, of the Scottish Highlands is dying before our eyes. The most popular
book in the English tongue at the present time, except the Bible, is one of
Dickens's works, his Pickwick Papers. It is largely written
in the language of London street-life; and experts assure us that in fifty
years it will be unintelligible to the average English reader.
Then
Paul goes farther, and with even greater boldness adds, "Whether there be
knowledge, it shall vanish away." The wisdom of the ancients, where is it?
It is wholly gone. A schoolboy to-day knows more than Sir Isaac Newton knew.
His knowledge has vanished away. You put yesterday's newspaper in the fire. Its
knowledge has vanished away. You buy the old editions of the great
encyclopaedias for a few pence. Their knowledge has vanished away. Look how the
coach has been superseded by the use of steam. Look how electricity has
superseded that, and swept a hundred almost new inventions into oblivion. One
of the greatest living authorities, Sir William Thomson, said the other day,
"The steam-engine is passing away." "Whether there be knowledge,
it shall vanish away." At every workshop you will see, in the back yard, a
heap of old iron, a few wheels, a few levers, a few cranks, broken and eaten
with rust. Twenty years ago that was the pride of the city. Men flocked in from
the country to see the great invention; now it is superseded, its day is done.
And all the boasted science and philosophy of this day will soon be old. But
yesterday, in the University of Edinburgh, the greatest figure in the faculty
was Sir James Simpson, the discoverer of chloroform. The other day his successor
and nephew, Professor Simpson, was asked by the librarian of the University to
go to the library and pick out the books on his subject that were no longer
needed. And his reply to the librarian was this: "Take every text-book
that is more than ten years old, and put it down in the cellar." Sir James
Simpson was a great authority only a few years ago: men came from all parts of
the earth to consult him; and almost the whole teaching of that time is
consigned by the science of to-day to oblivion. And in every branch of science
it is the same. "Now we know in part. We see through a glass darkly."
Can
you tell me anything that is going to last? Many things Paul did not condescend
to name. He did not mention money, fortune, fame; but he picked out the great
things of his time, the things the best men thought had something in them, and
brushed them peremptorily aside. Paul had no charge against these things in
themselves. All he said about them was that they would not last. They were
great things, but not supreme things. There were things beyond them. What we
are stretches past what we do, beyond what we possess. Many things that men
denounce as sins are not sins; but they are temporary. And that is a favourite
argument of the New Testament. John says of the world, not that it is wrong,
but simply that it "passeth away." There is a great deal in the world
that is delightful and beautiful; there is a great deal in it that is great and
engrossing; but it will not last. All that is in the world, the lust of the
eye, the lust of the flesh, and the pride of life, are but for a little while.
Love not the world therefore. Nothing that it contains is worth the life and
consecration of an immortal soul. The immortal soul must give itself to
something that is immortal. And the only immortal things are these: "Now
abideth faith, hope, love, but the greatest of these is love."
Some
think the time may come when two of these three things will also pass away —
faith into sight, hope into fruition. Paul does not say so. We know but little
now about the conditions of the life that is to come. But what is certain is
that Love must last. God, the Eternal God, is Love. Covet therefore that
everlasting gift, that one thing which it is certain is going to stand, that
one coinage which will be current in the Universe when all the other coinages
of all the nations of the world shall be useless and unhonoured. You will give
yourselves to many things, give yourselves first to Love. Hold things in their
proportion. Hold things in their proportion. Let at least the first
great object of our lives be to achieve the character defended in these words,
the character, — and it is the character of Christ — which is built round Love.
I
have said this thing is eternal. Did you ever notice how continually John
associates love and faith with eternal life? I was not told when I was a boy
that "God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that
whosoever believeth in Him should have everlasting life." What I was told,
I remember, was, that God so loved the world that, if I trusted in Him, I was
to have a thing called peace, or I was to have rest, or I was to have joy, or I
was to have safety. But I had to find out for myself that whosoever trusteth in
Him — that is, whosoever loveth Him, for trust is only the avenue to Love —
hath everlasting life. The Gospel offers a man life. Never
offer men a thimbleful of Gospel. Do not offer them merely joy, or merely
peace, or merely rest, or merely safety; tell them how Christ came to give men
a more abundant life than they have, a life abundant in love, and therefore
abundant in salvation for themselves, and large in enterprise for the
alleviation and redemption of the world. Then only can the Gospel take hold of
the whole of a man, body, soul, and spirit, and give to each part of his nature
its exercise and reward. Many of the current Gospels are addressed only to a
part of man's nature. They offer peace, not life; faith, not Love;
justification, not regeneration. And men slip back again from such religion because
it has never really held them. Their nature was not all in it. It offered no
deeper and gladder life-current than the life that was lived before. Surely it
stands to reason that only a fuller love can compete with the love of the
world.
To
love abundantly is to live abundantly, and to love for ever is to live for
ever. Hence, eternal life is inextricably bound up with love. We want to live
for ever for the same reason that we want to live to-morrow. Why do you want to
live to-morrow? It is because there is some one who loves you, and whom you
want to see to-morrow, and be with, and love back. There is no other reason why
we should live on than that we love and are beloved. It is when a man has no
one to love him that he commits suicide. So long as he has friends, those who
love him and whom he loves, he will live; because to live is to love. Be it but
the love of a dog, it will keep him in life; but let that go and he has no
contact with life, no reason to live. He dies by his own hand. Eternal life also
is to know God, and God is love. This is Christ's own definition. Ponder it.
"This is life eternal, that they might know Thee the only true God, and
Jesus Christ whom Thou has sent." Love must be eternal. It is what God is.
On the last analysis, then, love is life. Love never faileth, and life never
faileth, so long as there is love. That is the philosophy of what Paul is
showing us; the reason why in the nature of things Love should be the supreme
thing — because it is going to last; because in the nature of things it is an
Eternal Life. It is a thing that we are living now, not that we get when we
die; that we shall have a poor chance of getting when we die unless we are
living now. No worse fate can befall a man in this world than to live and grow
old alone, unloving, and unloved. To be lost is to live in an unregenerate
condition, loveless and unloved; and to be saved is to love; and he that
dwelleth in love dwelleth already in God. For God is love.
Now
I have all but finished. How many of you will join me in reading this chapter
once a week for the next three months? A man did that once and it changed his
whole life. Will you do it? It is for the greatest thing in the world. You
might begin by reading it every day, especially the verses which describe the
perfect character. "Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not;
love vaunteth not itself." Get these ingredients into your life. Then
everything that you do is eternal. It is worth doing. It is worth giving time
to. No man can become a saint in his sleep; and to fulfil the condition
required demands a certain amount of prayer and meditation and time, just as
improvement in any direction, bodily or mental, requires preparation and care.
Address yourselves to that one thing; at any cost have this transcendent
character exchanged for yours. You will find as you look back upon your life
that the moments that stand out, the moments when you have really lived, are
the moments when you have done things in a spirit of love. As memory scans the
past, above and beyond all the transitory pleasures of life, there leap forward
those supreme hours when you have been enabled to do unnoticed kindnesses to
those round about you, things too trifling to speak about, but which you feel
have entered into your eternal life. I have seen almost all the beautiful
things God has made; I have enjoyed almost every pleasure that He has planned
for man; and yet as I look back I see standing out above all the life that has
gone four or five short experiences when the love of God reflected itself in
some poor imitation, some small act of love of mine, and these seem to be the
things which alone of all one's life abide. Everything else in all our lives is
transitory. Every other good is visionary. But the acts of love which no man knows
about, or can ever know about — they never fail.
In
the Book of Matthew, where the Judgment Day is depicted for us in the imagery
of One seated upon a throne and dividing the sheep from the goats, the test of
a man then is not, "How have I believed?" but "How have I
loved?" The test of religion, the final test of religion, is not
religiousness, but Love. I say the final test of religion at that great Day is
not religiousness, but Love; not what I have done, not what I have believed,
not what I have achieved, but how I have discharged the common charities of
life. Sins of commission in that awful indictment are not even referred to. By
what we have not done, by sins of omission, we are judged. It
could not be otherwise. For the withholding of love is the negation of the
spirit of Christ, the proof that we never knew Him, that for us He lived in
vain. It means that He suggested nothing in all our thoughts, that He inspired
nothing in all our lives, that we were not once near enough to Him to be seized
with the spell of His compassion for the world. It means that —
"I lived for myself, I thought for myself,
For myself, and none beside
Just as if Jesus had never lived,
As if He had never died."
It
is the Son of Man before whom the nations
of the world shall be gathered. It is in the presence of Humanity that we shall be
charged. And the spectacle itself, the mere sight of it, will silently judge
each one. Those will be there whom we have met and helped; or there, the
unpitied multitude whom we neglected or despised. No other Witness need be
summoned. No other charge than lovelessness shall be preferred. Be not
deceived. The words which all of us shall one Day hear sound not of theology
but of life, not of churches and saints but of the hungry and the poor, not of
creeds and doctrines but of shelter and clothing, not of Bibles and
prayer-books but of cups of cold water in the name of Christ. Thank God the
Christianity of to-day is coming nearer the world's need. Live to help that on.
Thank God men know better, by a hairsbreadth, what religion is, what God is,
who Christ is, where Christ is. Who is Christ? He who fed the hungry, clothed
the naked, visited the sick. And where is Christ? Where? — whoso shall receive
a little child in My name receiveth Me. And who are Christ's? Every one that
loveth is born of God.
THE END
by Henry Drummond
First Published c1880
[This
copy of this address comes from the version published by Hodder and Stoughton
of London in 1890. The spelling and capitalization are those used by the
publishers.]
