LECTURE XVI.

I CORINTHIANS, vii. 29-31.- -January 11, 1852.

HIS was St. Paul's memorable decision, in reply to certain

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questions proposed to him by the Church of Corinth, on the subject of Unworldliness. Christianity was a new thing in the world, and circumstances daily arose in which it became a question in what way Christianity was to be applied to the circumstances of ordinary daily life.

Christ had said of His disciples, "They are not of the world." It was a question therefore,-Can a Christian lawfully enter the married state? Can he remain a slave and be a Christian too?—May he make certain worldly compliances ? Should a Christian wife remain with an unchristian husband? Here was the root of the difficult question-What is Worldliness?

Now observe the large, broad spirit of the Apostle's answer. In effect he says, You may do all this-you may enter into family relationships, and yet be living in expectation of Christ's coming. If you are a slave, care not for it. If any that believe not invite you to a feast, and you are disposed to go, go without fear. I cannot judge for you; you must judge for yourselves. All that I lay down is, you must in spirit live above, and separate from, the love of earthly things.

Christianity is a spirit-it is a set of principles, and not a set of rules; it is not a mapping out of the chart of life, with every shoal and rock marked, and the exact line of the ship's course laid down. It does not say, Do not go to this, or, See that you abstain from that. It gives no definite rules for dress,

or for the expenditure of time or money. A principle is announced; but the application of that principle is left to each man's own conscience.

Herein Christianity differed essentially from Judaism. Judaism was the education of the spiritual child, Christianity that of the spiritual man. You must teach a child by rules; and, as he does not know the reason of them, his duty consists in implicit and exact obedience. But a man who is governed, not by principles, but by maxims and rules, is a pedant, or a slave; he will never be able to depart from the letter of the rule, not even to preserve the spirit of it. ence between the Law and the Gospel. The Law lays down rules-"Do this and live." The Gospel lays down principles. Thus Judaism said, Forgive seven times-exactly so much; Christianity said, Forgiveness is a boundless spirit—not three times, nor seven. No rule can be laid down but an infinite one,-seventy times seven. It must be left to the heart.

Here is one differ

So too the Law said,-" On the Sabbath-day thou shalt do no manner of work." The spirit of this was rest for man, but Pharisaism kept literally to the rule. It would rather that a man should perish than that any work should be done, or any ground travelled over, on the Sabbath-day in saving him. Pharisaism regarded the day as mysterious and sacred; Christianity proclaimed the day to be nothing,-the spirit, for which the day was set apart, everything. It said, "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath." It broke the day in the letter, whenever it was necessary in the true spiritual observance of the day to advantage the man.

Unworldliness then, does not consist in giving up this or that; but in a certain inward principle. Had St. Paul been one of those ministers who love to be the autocrats of their congregations, who make their own limited conceptions the universal rule of right and wrong, he would have hailed this opportunity of deciding the question for them. But he walked

in the light and liberty of the Gospel himself, and he desired that his converts should do the same.

This, then, is our subject:

I. The motives for Christian unworldliness.

II. The nature of that unworldliness.

"This I say

of

The first motive is the shortness of time. brethren, the time is short." That mysterious word "time," which is a matter of sensation, dependent on the flight of ideas, may be long to one person and short to another. The span life granted to a summer butterfly is long compared with that granted to the ephemeron, it is short compared with the duration of a cedar of Lebanon. Relative to experience, an hour is long to a child, yet a year is little to a man. therefore, is a term entirely relative to something else.

Shortness

1. It is relative to the way in which we look on Time, whether it be regarded from before or after. Time past is a dream, time to come seems immense; the longest night, which seemed as if it would never drag through, is but a speck of memory when it is gone. At sixty-five, a man has on an average five years to live; yet his imagination obstinately attaches solidity and stability to those five coming years, though the sixty-five seem but a moment. To the young such words as these are often perfectly unmeaning: life to them is an inexhaustible treasure. But ask the old man what he thinks of the time he has had; he feels what the young can scarcely be brought to believe,—that time future may seem long, but time past is as nothing. Years glide swiftly, though hours and minutes scarcely seem to move.

2. Time is short in relation to opportunities. Literally these words mean-" The opportunity is compressed,-narrowed,"—that is, every season has its own opportunity, which never comes back. A chance once gone, is lost for ever. The autumn sun shines as brightly as that of spring, but the seed of spring cannot be sown in autumn. The work of boyhood

cannot be done in manhood. Time is short-it is opportunity narrowed in!

The chance will not be given you long. Have you learnt the lesson of yesterday? or the infinite meaning of to-day? It has duties of its own; they cannot be left until to-morrow. To-morrow will bring its own work. There is a solemn feeling in beginning any new work; in the thought, I have begun this to-day, shall I ever complete it? And a voice says, "Work on, for the day of its closing is unknown." The true consciousness of this life is as a tombstone, on which two dates are to be inscribed: the day of birth is engraven at full length, while a blank is left for the day of death. Born on such a day; died ? The time in which that blank has to be filled up is short.

The great idea brought out by Christianity was the eternity. of the soul's life. With this idea the Corinthian Church was then struggling. So vast, so absorbing was this idea to them, that there was ground for fear lest it should absorb all considerations of the daily life and duties, which surrounded these converts. The thought arose,-"Oh! in comparison of that great Hereafter, this little life shrivels into nothingness! Is it worth while to attempt to do anything? What does it concern us to marry, to work, to rejoice, or to weep?"

All deep minds have felt this at some period or other of their career-all earnest souls have had this temptation presented to them in some form or other. It has come perhaps when we were watching underneath the quiet, gliding heavens, or perhaps when the ticking of a clock in restless midnight hours made us realise the thought that time was speeding on for ever-for this life beating out fast. That strange, awful thing, Time! sliding, gliding, fleeting on-on to the cataract; and then the deep, deep plunge down, bearing with it and swallowing up the world and the ages, until every interest that now seems so great and absorbing is as a straw on the mighty

bosom of a flood. Let but a man possess his soul with this idea of Time, and then unworldliness will be the native atmosphere he breathes.

The second motive given is the changefulness of the external world: "The fashion of this world passeth away." It may be needful here to remark, that the word "fashion" has not here the popular meaning which has been generally assigned to it. It does not refer to those customs and conventionalities which vary in different nations and different ages; all these pass away but the word refers here to all that is external upon earth; all that has form, and shape, and scenery; all that is visible in contradistinction to that which is invisible.

The transitoriness of this world might have been purely a matter of revelation. Instead of gradual and visible decay, God might have arranged His cycles so that change should not have been perceptible within the limits of a lifetime, that dissolution should have come on things suddenly, instead of by slow and gradual steps. Instead of that, He has mercifully chosen that it should not only be a matter of revelation, but of observation also. This visible world is only a form and an appearance. God has written decay on all around us. On the hills, which are everlasting only in poetry; their outlines changing within the memory of man. On the sea-coast, fringed with shingle. Look at it receding from our white cliffs; its boundaries are not what they were. This law is engraven on our own frames. Even in the infant the progress of dissolution has visibly begun. The principle of development is at work, and development is but the necessary step towards decay. There is a Force at work in everything-call it what you will-Life or Death: it is reproduction out of decay. The outward form is in a perpetual flux and change.

We stand amidst the ruins of other days, and as they moulder before our eyes they tell us of generations which have mouldered before them, and of nations which have crossed the