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pears to have been almost stopped. Since the outbreak of the Continental revolutions, there has scarcely a single work of solid worth made its appearance throughout the whole length and breadth of the land of Luther. True, the concluding parts of some such great treatises as "Nitzsch's Praktische Theologie," new editions of some such remarkable productions as "Thiersch's Katholicismus und Protestantismus" have been given forth; nor have such men as Harless and Tholuck discontinued their system of sermonpublishing; still it is an undeniable fact, that the wild revolutionary whirlwind has, for the present, almost devastated the whole field of German theological speculation.
But it may well be asked, What is likely to be the result of this unwonted state of affairs? Has Germany and Christendom at large-for Germany most deeply affects Christendom at large-advantage or disadvantage, to expect from this new condition of things? If the emoluments and privileges of the theological professors be materially interfered with, then we can look forward to nothing else than what the German theologians themselves look forward to,-a general and lasting decline in theological learning. But if approaching political and ecclesiastical movements do not seriously interfere with the theological chairs, there is great good to be hoped from the present crisis. As Professor Ullmann has well said, in the leading article of the "Studien und Kritiken" of this year, "The wood of theological literature was formerly too
thickly planted, and it can well spare to be considerably thinned, that the possibility may be given to strong, healthful plants, to increase in height and vigour." There was previously too much theological literature, and too little Church life in Germany. This has been the ruin of the country for many a long day, as the counterpart of it has been not a little disadvantageous for ourselves. Now, however, political changes are obliging the Germans to look to the Church-to look to its constitution and its workings. They now feel themselves compelled to meet together and think and speak about that which is practical. The inculcating of this is the great theme of Hundeshagen's famous work, entitled "Der deutsche Protestantisimus." Several of the leading religious journals are beginning to give Christian fellowship and Christian life a much more prominent position in their pages than was formerly their wont; and even the "Theologische Studien und Kritiken" is, henceforth, to take special notice of whatever may be reckoned beneficial for the practical guidance of the Church.
Though, therefore, the theological literature of Germany be, at present, in a great measure, at a stand, it is to be hoped, that great good will eventually arise therefrom; and that after the German divines have learned something more of the real earnestness of life than they have hitherto known, they will again come forward with works both numerous and learned, and more deeply fraught, than aforetime, with practical wisdom and Christian seriousness.
citadel, and planted his dark standard in its inmost hold. That which is the very principle of vitality to the whole world, had seemed to wither in his grasp upon the cross, when majestically rose the unvanquished Lord of Life, and hurled him back and for ever to darkness. The resurrection of the dust of a thousand ages to the judgment, wondrous as it shall be, cannot approach to this. The dead who then shall live, shall live by a power exerted in all the fulness of visible and irresistible authority; it will be but the act of a known and recognized Creator, not perhaps as truly wonderful as a thousand natural processes that surround us every hour. But the dead Christ, who lived again, was prostrate under His enemy the hour he overwhelmed Him; the conqueror was chained, and bleeding beneath the foe He destroyed. As a man, truly dead, He was inextinguishably alive to God.
"The Lord Jesus Christ, in His own person triumphant over death, diffuses through all His followers the fruits of His victory. His is no solitary glory. He conquered death, not for himself, for He is essentially above it; but for us, who are its helpless bondsmen. His victory is ours. We are more than conquerors through him that loved us.'
"There is a spiritual resurrection, and there is a physical resurrection. How these two things are blended in the records of our faith, I need not tell you; how we are said to be 'risen with Christ' out of our baptismal burial with Him; how we are said, in 'having the Son,' to 'have' already the life eternal that we anticipate; how the work of God to usward who believe,' is said to be according to the working of His mighty power which He wrought in Christ when He raised Him from the dead.' Being thus already risen, every motion of grace is the struggle of the soul for the final consummation; the bird is caged, but the wings are free to flutter within their prison. The spirit of him who believes and loves, already 'made to sit in heavenly places in Christ Jesus,' wearies of its dark and dead companion, that is still of the earth, earthy.' It longs for the period when the spiritual body shall minister to spiritual desires, and the whole man be perfected for God. Meanwhile, if the spiritual resurrection be as yet imperfect, it is not less real. The spiritual Lazarus is raised from the dead, though the fleshly frame, the graveclothes of this world's charnel-house, still encumber him, and the word has not yet been spoken, loose him, and let him go!' The resurrection of Christ, once performed
in act, is immortal in energy. He rises again in every new-born child of God. Every hour witnesses this incessant work of the new life He inspires; yea, He is now as active in the miracle of inward resurrection, as He shall yet be in the great day of the universal one. Wondrous as was His own rise from the grave, it is yet more wondrous, if that be possible, in its consequences, than in itself. For if you will believe the Scriptures, it is a work which transcends all limits of time or space. In the union of Christ with His faithful, there is, as they tell us, a perpetual restoration of all He did, even to the end of the world. He is for ever crucified in the self-denying; for ever buried in the self-forgetting; forever risen in the joyous freed man of God. And all this at once; himself immutable;-even as the sun fixed in the central heaven, and without losing one beam of its own changeless glory, is at the same moment to one land the dawn, to another the morn, to others the noon-tide and the evening, as they catch or lose his beams. But as the resurrection was the antecedent ground and proof of His power to build the kingdom of God upon earth, so is the continued work of resurrection His main function in building it. He spreads the mighty miracle of His own regeneration from the dead along the whole line of its history. He repeats it in every new member of the city of God;-the Church's is an everlasting Easter."-Professor W. A. Butler.
I like that ancient Saxon phrase which calls
Comfort to those who in the grave have sown
The seed that they had gathered in their hearts;
Their bread of life, alas! no more their own.
Into its furrows shall we all be cast,
In the sure faith that we shall rise again At the Great Harvest, when the archangel's blast Shall winnow, like a fan, the chaff and grain. Then shall the good stand in immortal bloom,
In the fair gardens of the second birth; And each bright blossom mingle its perfume, With that of flowers which never bloomed on earth.
With thy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod,
And spread the furrow for the seed we sow. This is the field and Acre of our God; This is the place where human harvest grow. H. W. LONGFELLOW. "Gottesacker," the German name for a burial.
ON PLEASING OUR NEIGHBOUR.*—(Roм. xv. 3.)
THE Apostle Paul says, "Let every one of us please his neighbour for his good to edification." There is a pleasing of our neighbour which is very different from this;-a pleasing him by chiming in with his prejudices-by flattering his infirmities-by complying with his sinful wishes-by laughing at his wicked jokes -by countenancing him in his evil ways; in short, by doing, or not doing that which will insure us popularity with our neighbour, though at the expense of principle in ourselves. This is indeed pleasing him, as we please the drunkard when we give him drink, or the selfwilled when we give them their own way; but it is not pleasing him "for his good to edification," but rather for his injury to his destruction. And nothing, I repeat it, is more common than this sort of pleasing of each other. It is done, people say, "for the sake of peace," "to give no offence," "because to find fault is none of our business."-With these plausible excuses, men cloak over their own unprincipled and slothful selfishness and want of love to their neighbours. For if they really loved their neighbour, -if they felt themselves responsible for their conduct towards him,-if they were concerned for his good, they would seck to please him, consistently with that good, and in such a way as he would thank them for when on his dying bed, or at the day of judgment. What we all must learn, is to seek our neighbour's well-being, so that his evil should be our burden, and his good our happiness and reward. We must learn so to love him, as that we shall, if necessary, displease him, and put him to pain, and make him perhaps angry with us for a time, if in this way only we can do him good in the end; just as a kind surgeon will put us to pain in order to save our lives.
"Every one of us" must thus please his neighbour; because every one has some neighbour thus to please. Do you ask, "Who is my neighbour?" I reply, No. V. VOL. I.-AUGUST, 1849.
that person, whoever he be, with whom God in His providence brings you in contact; whether you meet him by accident for a few minutes only, or associate with him every day of your life; the person, in short, who can in any way be influenced by you,-by what you are, as well as by what you do: that person is your neighbour; he is more or less closely "bound up in the bundle of life" with you-and in as far as you can by word, look, or action, "please him for his good," so far it is your duty and privilege, as fellowworkers with God, to do so. And a moment's consideration will shew you, that there is no one, however poor-however unknown-however unlearned, but has, at least, one talent of influence which he may use, and which he dare not lay up in a napkin. Not only so, but that he possesses greater opportunities of influencing one or more individuals, than any other on earth has. I ask you, reader, is there not some one whom you know better, and come in contact with more frequently than any others do? It may be your child or parent, your brother or sister, your fellow-workman or daily acquaintance; but some one there is whom you know better than any one else does, and who is, therefore, in a special sense, your neighbour,--for whom you are, in a special sense, responsible. This one talent, I say, every man possesses-while thousands, from their position in society, possess many more: this one work each one of us may do for others, and, perhaps, no one else can do it so well, The oppportunity of doing this good, is a power given us by God, which is peculiarly our own. You cannot point to a single case in which this will not hold true. That old decrepit woman, for instance, who cannot stir from her chair by the fireside, may, day by day, "please" the children who play around her knee, "for their good to edification," a good which may tell upon families yet unborn. * See last number on "Neighbourly Love."
That poor invalid who can scarcely move or speak, may, by patience, and love, and meekness, and consideration of the feeling of others, springing from trust in God, shed a holy influence around her dying bed. That sicknurse, who watches beside this other sleepless sufferer, may, in the silence of the night, speak words which, by God's blessing, may end in life everlasting. That infirm man, who, for support, leans on his staff, may, by his affectionate advices to the young-his pious visits, rich in prayer, to his sick neighbours-his kindly words, and peaceful happy walk before all-scatter blessings round him while he lives, and leave them behind him in the hearts of many when he dies. But not to multiply instances, or to select them from higher walks in life, it will suffice to say, in con
clusion,-that if we only remember how
"CHRIST PLEASED NOT HIMSELF."-(ROM. xv. 3.)
That you may realize to yourselves the unselfishness-if I may so speak-of our blessed Master's character, let us glance at that portion of His history which is embraced in the last week of His life; and see how, in the most overwhelmingly trying circumstances, He ever forgot Himself in seeking the good of others.
THE Apostle sets before us Jesus Christ | the sake of others, He came into the
"Even Christ pleased not himself." These words describe His character. For
A few days before His crucifixion, He entered Jerusalem as a King: multitudes met him by the way and welcomed Him with loud hosannahs: never before had He been so honoured, or received. It was the only day of triumph He had in His life. He reached the brow of the hill which overlooked Jerusalem. "He beheld the city!"-the city so long highly favoured by God, and now about to perish for its impenitence-and that sight absorbs His whole thoughts. He thinks not of him
Our Lord is in the garden of Gethsemane. He is about to pass through unheard of agony, as our atoning Saviouragony immeasurable, incomprehensible ! But He thinks of the good of His disciples, while "the chastisement of our peace was upon Him." He leaves them, in order to be alone in His sorrow. The sight was too trying for their weak faith. "Sit ye here, while I go and pray yonder." When He finds them asleep, there are no reproaches for their want of sympathy with Him. How tender the slight rebuke! How mingled with it is the comfort!-"What, could ye not watch with me one hour? The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak!" Even Peter's special danger, from overweening confidence, is not overlooked by Him. He would quicken him to watch and pray against temptation, by the question,"Simon, sleepest thou?" In all this He was mindful of the good of others.
self; nor is He attracted by the applauses | own,-"He riseth from supper, and laid of the people. His heart is with His eye; aside His garments, and girded himself, and both rest upon desolate Zion. He and poureth water into a basin, and weeps bitter tears; and His wailing cry is, began to wash the disciples' feet, and to "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem! Oh! that wipe them with the towel wherewith He was thou, even thou, hadst known the things girded." How true is it, that "even Christ of thy peace!" In the beautiful language pleased not Himself!” of Jeremy Taylor, "He wet the palms with His tears, sweeter than the drops of manna, or the little pearls that descended on Mount Hermon; weeping, in the midst of His triumph, over obstinate, perishing, malicious Jerusalem. For this Jesus was like the rainbow; He was half made of the glories of the light, and half of the moisture of a cloud; in His best days He was but half triumph, and half sorrow!" Behold Him again the evening before His death, seated at the Paschal supper with His disciples! What an utter forgetfulness of Himself-what a seeking of the good of others-does He manifest in all he said, and in all He did! He does not ask His disciples to comfort Him, to sympathize with Him, though He was to be the sufferer. His whole time is occupied in “pleasing them for their good to edification,"-"Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid." There is not a thought about Himself expressed. He warns, He exhorts, He instructs, He cheers, His disciples; and prepares them for coming trial, and for temptation. He is indeed troubled in spirit; but it is when making the sad announcement, that one whom He had always trusted as His friend, is about to betray Him.
The supper is over; "His hour was come that He should depart out of this world to His Father." Yet, "having loved His own which were in the world, He loved them to the end." That love, like all true love, will stoop to do the humblest acts, in order to do good to the beloved object. We read, accordingly, that " Jesus know ing that the Father had given all things into His hands, and that He was come from God, and went to God,"--what then? with the full knowledge of the glory which He had left, and to which He was about to return, and of the universal dominion which the Father had given,-yet, oh! marvellous love, which seeketh not her
The cruel band of soldiers, led by the traitor, approach; they surround Jesus. His first thoughts are for the safety of His disciples,-"Let these," He says, "go away." Peter wounds Malchus: Jesus attends to the sufferer, though an enemy,
and heals him!
But He is, at last, alone, and in the presence of His tormentors; all His disciples have forsaken Him. He is standing before the High Priest, at early dawn, after His night of toil and horror; He is buffetted, insulted, blasphemed. Yet even then He thinks of others. He is yearning over the fallen disciple. He hears him curse and swear that he knew Him not,-"And the Lord turned and looked upon Peter,”—a look of pity, reproach, and love, which broke his heart with godly sorrow, and saved his soul.
Jesus is carrying His cross; the women of Jerusalem alone feel for Him, and they accompany Him on His way with bitter lamentations. But He will seek the