“And there are also many other things which
Jesus did, the which, if they should be written every one, I
suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books
that should be written.”—John xxi. 25.
The chapter before us is plainly a
supplement to the main history. St. John concluded that
history under a deep conviction that it was far from a full
account of his Master’s wonderful ministry.
“Many other signs,” said he, “truly did Jesus,
in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this
book.” But in this supplementary chapter, added to
the Gospel, perhaps, after a lapse of several years, the inspired
Evangelist returns to his subject, and relates with singular
minuteness of detail the miracle of the draught of fishes.
He then appends to the whole narrative an asseveration of its
truth; and still feeling, as he had done before, that there
remained an inexhaustible fulness of facts and lessons in the
life of his adorable Lord which defied every attempt at recording
them, he at last finishes his Gospel—inclusive of the
appendix—in the same spirit in which he had concluded what
he wrote before. Persuaded of the impossibility of doing
perfect justice to such a life as that of the Word made flesh, he
employed a strong Oriental hyperbole to express the
impossibility, whilst his heart overflowed with adoring love and
wonder—“And there are also many other things which
Jesus did, the which, if they should be written every one, I
suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books
that should be written.”
It is not unusual for an author to return to the perusal and
examination of a work composed by him in bygone years with a
deepened belief of the truth of its contents, accompanied by an
overwhelming conviction of its want of completeness.
Another chapter may be added to what was written before, and
then, when all is done, the pen may be laid down, with the
feeling that not one-half of all the beautiful truth to which the
book relates has yet been told. A circumstance so common in
connection with efforts of genius finds something of a parallel
here, in connection with the higher and nobler exercises of
inspiration. It is to the last degree affecting to behold
the aged Evangelist reading over his own Gospel, dwelling with
delight upon sacred memories of the Divine Friend who so
graciously loved him, and whom he so gratefully loved in return,
thinking of one act of his after another, one word of his after
another, never written, and realizing the impossibility of
producing a perfect portrait of the Divine original, yet folding
up his own MS. with the devout assurance that in giving it to the
Church he was an instrument, in the hands of the Spirit, of
bestowing upon mankind one of the richest treasures of wisdom and
knowledge.
The Evangelist here speaks of books—of the possibility
of writing an immense number of them on one subject; and thus he
calls to our mind the saying of the wise man, that “of
making many books there is no end.” They were very
numerous in the ancient world. The library of the Ptolemies
at Alexandria was of such prodigious magnitude that it numbered half a
million volumes. Large public and private collections were
not uncommon in St. John’s time; and in Rome, at that
period, the bookseller’s trade signally flourished.
In the shop doors lists of new publications were exhibited; nor
were the prices of some by any means immoderate, a considerable
proportion of the MSS. being so small as to come under the modern
denomination of pamphlets or tracts. Thus early existed
multitudes of those productions which Milton eloquently describes
as “not dead things,” but such as “contain a
potency of life,” as “active as the soul whose
progeny they are,” preserving, “as a vial, the purest
efficacy and extraction of that living intellect which bred
them,” as “vigorously productive” as the
“fabulous dragon’s teeth,” and which, being
“sown up and down,” may, like them, perchance, spring
up into armed men. Throughout the civilized world, in the
first account of Christianity, were there books containing
“the life-blood of master spirits,” that
“ethereal and fifth essence, the breath of
reason.” And besides these, there existed, among the
elect people of God, a literature incomparably superior to
anything else—a literature furnished by historians, poets,
and moralists, who far surpassed merely classic ones. For
now, in the fulness of time, the Greek, as well as the Hebrew
language, had become enriched by inspired contributions, and four
peerless histories or biographies appeared—four lives of
the divinely-incarnate and ever-living One—followed by
another history, recording the acts of his Apostles, accompanied
by epistles or letters which explained the meaning of the life of
Jesus, and the acts of the first preachers of his incomparable
and blessed Gospel. These books came into the world,
stamped with unmistakable signs of a Divine origin perfectly
unique. They were sons of God amongst the children of
men—Divine wisdom visiting the earth in human form, thought
after thought, like angel after angel, coming down from heaven,
with a countenance like lightning, with raiment white as snow,
yet speaking in tones of meek assurance to affrighted souls,
telling them not to fear, because the crucified Redeemer of mankind had
risen from the dead. Such books have, indeed, a life within
them; a life truly, and without any hyperbole, immortal, to
attempt to kill which would be as idle as it would be impious,
for it would be to strike a blow at that which, above everything
else on the face of the earth, is an image of God.
And numbers of books since then, without pretending to rival
them, have caught more or less of their divine spirit.
Human minds replenished with instructions derived from these
unparalleled sources have communicated their thoughts to
mankind—thoughts of such a character, so morally and
religiously superior to anything known in lands unblessed by
these gifts of inspiration, as to declare their lineage and
descent to be of that divine race of which the ancestors were the
first-born children of celestial light. A precious
inheritance of Christian literature has thus descended to modern
times, surrounding us with intellectual and spiritual advantages,
which many are slow to acknowledge, because unable to
estimate. Yet it is the heirloom of our churches and our
families, laid up on the shelves of our libraries, and what is
still better, I hope, that its effect upon us mingles with our
daily life.
The discovery of printing, in the providence of God, although
it cannot add to the immortality of Christian thought in itself,
has contributed a new method, first of perpetuating in their
original forms all expressions of truth, whether human or Divine,
and next, of multiplying such expressions, in the same original
form, so as to fill the world with them, and to give to immortal
wisdom a sort of visible and palpable ubiquity. And
extremely interesting it is to notice, that the Bible, or the
Psalter, was certainly the first book of any considerable size
which came forth from the press, whence “we may see in
imagination this venerable and splendid volume leading up the
crowded myriads of its followers, and imploring, as it were, a
blessing on the new art, by dedicating its first fruits to the
service of heaven.” A mighty revolution has, no
doubt, been wrought by the invention of printing. It has
not diminished the force of spoken words, it never can supersede
the necessity of the living voice as the chief means of
proclaiming the Gospel of Christ, it never can destroy the
enchantment of human eloquence; but it narrows the sphere of
instruction from the pulpit, it supersedes the continuance of the
ancient practice when preachers at Paul’s Cross took up the
questions of the day, and discussed them in their homilies; it
hands over to the press, as a more convenient field for
discussion, a number of instructive and important topics, whilst
it provides for the diffusion of religious knowledge in all sorts
of ways, and in all sorts of places, far beyond the reach of any
preacher’s, or any missionary’s voice. At the
same time it gathers up in the best form, and perpetuates to the
latest age, and circulates to the end of the world, the richest
utterances of the Christian ministry. The voice from the
pulpit has lost somewhat of its range of themes; it cannot now
announce ecclesiastical and political news, as it did once; but
it has a special work still to do, through the human countenance,
the human eye, the human lips, as it exhibits well-known truth
and inculcates familiar lessons, appealing to the heart and
calling forth our sensibilities and sympathies as nothing else
can ever do. And after all the lamentations poured forth by
some, and all the taunts flung out by others, the pulpit still
remains an unrivalled power—unrivalled in the demand for
its exercise, and unrivalled in the supply of its proper
spiritual effects, even the conversion and edification of
souls. But the press, although we do not count it a rival,
but rather as a helper, in the one great field of Christian
instruction, is doing, and will do a work, which all the
preachers and speakers in Christendom can never overtake and
accomplish. Its power in the dissemination of the Gospel is
surprising beyond what we can imagine, until we come to deeply
ponder the subject in our minds; and the obligation resting upon
us to employ such power for this sacred purpose is most obvious,
most solemn, most pressing.
The books to which St. John particularly refers are books
about Christ.
He is thinking chiefly of his own Gospel, and of the other
three Gospels to which he intended this to be a supplement; these
four evangelical records being, in modern phrase, four historical
tracts—tracts such as had never been written before, such
as have never been written since. It is an inexpressible
blessing to have the four together, to have them bound within the
same covers. They constitute a perfect unity, a harmonious
whole; but the unity must not render us unmindful of the distinct
and characteristic impress borne by each. On dwelling upon
the whole, we must be careful to assign its proper individual
character to every part. Four distinct witnesses supply
their respective contributions of knowledge respecting our Divine
Lord and Master. Each relates what he knows from his own
point of view; each gives his own impression of the manifold life
and mission of the world’s Saviour; each leaves in his own
monograph the signature of his own habits of thought and of
expression; each paints the Divine portrait in his own
style. And most precious is it to the intelligent and
devout Christian to have a clear and distinct idea of the main
peculiarities of the four, looking at them carefully one by
one. Harmonies of the Gospels have their use; but they are
not used as they ought, they are much abused, if they are
suffered to soften down the lines of distinction between Matthew
and Mark, between Mark and Luke, between Luke and John. Any
attempt made to put together four portraits of one person,
painted from different points of view, placed on the canvas in
different positions, brought out in different relations of light
and shade, so as to destroy what is peculiar to each artist,
would be a mischievous process, and would diminish the extent of
our knowledge, instead of promoting the correctness of our
conceptions. We value four pictures of a great hero painted
by four different masters; we do not wish to blend the memories
of them in
our minds, so as to merge their varied ideals of one reality; we
would not, on any account, sacrifice in any of them a single line
of drawing, a single tint of colour. We should deprecate
the endeavour to destroy a touch here, and a stroke there, under
pretence of making the pictures exactly alike. We would
infinitely rather have them left unaltered, in all the freshness
of their original colouring, than have a single engraving,
however carefully and exquisitely executed, which aimed at a
harmonious rendering of the four. We prefer these divine
productions as they separately stand, each taken by itself, each
a beautiful tractate complete in itself, given from God, through
the hands of the human writer, to a single volume, made up of the
four, cut into fragments, and patched together under a very
fallible, although a very skilful editorship. The Acts, the
Epistles, the Apocalypse, form a second division of divine tracts
explanatory of the Gospels—or illustrative of the
impressions and effects produced by them upon the hearts and
minds of Christ’s earliest followers—or inculcatory
of the glorious doctrines of the evangelical revelation in their
practical bearings on human characters and consciences—or
poetically prophetic of things to come in the kingdom of our Lord
and Saviour Jesus Christ—a Divine hand in them opening a
window upon the scenes of futurity, some of which strike the
heart with terror, others of which make it leap for joy.
This collection of tracts forming the New Testament, or New
Covenant of man’s redemption, it is the duty of every one
of us diligently and devoutly to examine; not simply taking it up
by fragments, by little bits, by pieces torn out of their proper
places, and without any respect to the connection in which they
stand; nor studying it chiefly through the medium of other books,
whether paraphrases or commentaries, or through the medium of
sermons, lectures, or other modes of oral instruction. Let
the Divine tracts be studied themselves. Let them not only
be read from time to time, chapter by chapter alone, but
sometimes let them be read throughout continuously, Gospel by
Gospel, Epistle by Epistle, so that an impression, complete and distinct, of
each Evangelist’s history and each Apostolic letter, may be
left upon the memory. Above all, let them not be read
cursorily, in haste, as one might read a novel, but slowly,
patiently, thoughtfully, weighing word by word, sentence by
sentence, paragraph by paragraph; and with all this reading and
pondering, let there be combined earnest prayer to the great
Author of revelation, that he would open the reader’s eyes
to see the riches of his own comprehensive word.
But beyond these books or tracts are others, thank God, in
abundant numbers, which also relate to Christ. In our
devout gratitude for the supreme gift of Scripture, let us not be
unmindful of the subordinate gifts of human literature, imbued
more or less with the spirit of Scripture. We would insist
upon the marked difference between the Bible and all other books,
between Divine writ and humanly written divinity; yet would we
constantly remember that genius and talent employed in the
service of the truth are endowments conferred by the Father of
lights, and that to think we can exalt the Bible by running down
other books, and to imagine that we honour the God of inspiration
by depreciating the learning and the thoughtfulness which he has
given to his children, is one of those wretchedly ignorant and
fanatical mistakes by which well-meaning and pious people do
almost as much mischief as the most irreligious enemies of
Christianity. And beyond the limits of Divinity, properly
so called, whether doctrinal or practical, there are immense
regions of literature capable of being touched and beautified as
with new sunshine through the influence of Gospel truth.
Science may thus be improved and hallowed, so as to bear
witness—as most assuredly nature ever silently does,
whether we notice or not, to a Divine order underlying the
constitution of all things, and to a Divine Sovereign, a living,
glorious, infinite Person, who is the foundation and the
administrator of all that order—so as to bear witness to a
reign of law, or rather to the reign of Him who is the Author of
nature, and who, through those laws which we are enabled to decipher, is
reigning over all time and all worlds. History, also, may
be improved and hallowed, so as to record events in the light of
a Divine providence, and to exhibit character in the light of
revealed truth, and so as to show, in human judgments of men and
things, the justice, the impartiality, and the genial good-will
which Christian morality alone can inspire. Poetry, also,
may be improved and hallowed, so as not only to contribute to the
service of song in the house of the Lord, but so as to perpetuate
the memory of the good, to create ideals of truth, wisdom, and
holiness; to bring out those hidden streams of harmony which flow
through invisible channels in nature; and to repeat and explain
those whisperings of the soul which are confirmatory of the
highest truths. In short, Christianity may set its stamp on
all literature, not by printing the Divine name here and there,
not by patching upon the pages of a book texts of Scripture
irrelevant to the subject in hand; but by the presence of a
conscientious, honest, true, devout, and sweet spirit, which
cannot fail to make itself felt wherever it exists.
And now, looking at the multitude of books existing or coming
into existence—such an immense, such an ever-increasing
multitude, that we may adopt the hyperbole of the text, and say
it seems as if the world could not contain them—what is the
use which we ought to make of them?
A taste for literature is a natural instinct in some, and an
accomplishment acquired by others; and the duty of creating it if
we have it not, and of nurturing it if we have, is plainly
recognised in the New Testament. “Give attendance to
reading.” If the exhortation primarily applies to
those who are teachers of their fellow-men, it cannot fail to
belong also to others in their measure and degree. Numerous
methods of obtaining knowledge no doubt there are; but many of
the forms of knowledge, many of the benefits of knowledge, many
of the pleasures of knowledge, can be secured only by means of
books. The person deficient in a taste for reading misses a
large amount of benefit and enjoyment familiar to those who are
blessed with this endowment—an endowment which, though, as
intimated already, in some cases a natural instinct, may in other
cases be acquired and won as a studious accomplishment.
Tastes may be formed by study, by attention, by desire, by
effort, by practice—tastes of all kinds, and this amongst
the rest; and looking at the rich heritage of blessedness which
it brings, it must appear, to every one who sufficiently thinks
of it, worth the sacrifices of other and inferior things, when
such sacrifices are found essential to its attainment and
culture. Upon the young especially I would enforce the duty
of which I speak, begging and beseeching them to contrast it with
those vain, frivolous, worthless employments, not to mention the
very worst, to which fashion and example in the present day
invite so many thoughtless crowds.
When I speak of a taste for reading, let me explain
myself. It is sometimes supposed to exist where it does
not. There may be a fondness for certain books, which in no
way implies the possession of what we are commending now.
There are fictions in the present day, properly termed
sensational, and other kinds of books of a similar description,
to the perusal of which many are addicted without any idea of
self-improvement, without any love of knowledge whatever, without
a single care respecting truth, without an atom of taste, or a
scintillation of what can be called intellectual pleasure.
I cannot call that a taste for reading; it is simply a craving
after excitement, and may be as sensuous and sensual as are
certain desires confessedly vicious; and when it does not reach
such a depth as that, it may be a feeling almost as vain,
frivolous, and worthless as some other tendencies which never
clothe themselves in literary costume. Where a pure taste
and a genuine predilection for reading exist, it will be
discriminating, such as all pure tastes, all genuine
predilections ever are. A taste for painting is a taste for
good pictures; a taste for music is a taste for good singing and
for good instrumental performance; so, likewise, a taste for
reading is a taste for what is worth reading. I have no
narrow views as to the class of books which may be perused.
Some persons are qualified and required to take a wider range
than others in this respect—to make excursions into fields
of thought where it may not be wise for others to follow.
As to this matter, no universal rules can be laid down.
Individual capacities, habits, and callings, must determine the
question as to the extent to which inquisitiveness and curiosity
should go. But one law as to the judgment of what we read
there is, fixed and unalterable. Whatever relates to
morality and religion must be tested by Divine authority upon
such subjects. The Bible is not intended to teach us
science, philosophy, and profane history; but it is intended to
teach us what is moral and religious, and, therefore, to it
should questions involving these peerless considerations be
always brought. As Christians, taking the Bible for your
ride, how can you subscribe to the doctrines of any teacher of
divinity or of ethics who contradicts the teaching of the Word of
God? “To the law and to the testimony: if they speak
not according to this Word, it is because there is no light in
them.” With care and discrimination should we sift
out whatever is false or erroneous in the writings of men.
I do not say that we are not to read what is false or erroneous;
for how, until we have read it, can we tell whether any book be
discoloured or disfigured with these dark stains? but having
candidly and honestly examined the contents of a work, let us
judicially, with a pure heart, a clear head, and a firm hand,
separate the precious from the vile. “What is the
chaff to the wheat?” saith the Lord.
And further, it is manifest that in our reading we should have
respect to the nurture of our spiritual life. Secular
instruction and mental improvement are proper ends to be sought
by us all; but that which constitutes pre-eminently the welfare
of our souls ought to receive our most serious and conscientious
attention. To strengthen within us Christian faith, hope,
and love—to bring ourselves into closer union with
our blessed Saviour—to devote ourselves more thoroughly to
his service and glory, ought to be the first and chief design of
every one. “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his
righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto
you.” But as to the course of reading to be adopted
for these high and incomparable ends, it is difficult and even
impossible to lay down rules; because, as men’s minds are
so differently constituted, as dispositions are so differently
formed, the class of books adapted to promote the welfare of some
may not be suited to the needs of another. Biography,
perhaps, most stimulates one person; psalms and hymns and
spiritual songs, perhaps, most inspire another; plain, practical
addresses to the heart and conscience may, perhaps, better stir
and animate a third. Let each consult his own
peculiarities, and choose accordingly what he shall read for his
spiritual edification. We are quite sure that to mark out
the same course of religious reading for all kinds of people is
labour lost; it betrays great ignorance of human nature, of the
wonderful varieties of spiritual life, and of the diversified
exigencies and wants of different minds. What any one finds
most helpful to himself, he is very apt to think will be found
equally helpful to another; but this may prove a serious mistake,
and may lead to injury where benefit was designed. Then,
beyond stimulus and inspiration, there is needful for the
healthful development of Christianity in human experience,
character, and conduct, a plain, simple, solid acquaintance with
the things of God—an acquaintance to be sought in a proper
direction, in quarters, perhaps, where there is little to regale
the fancy or gratify the taste, but much to feed the soul with
knowledge and understanding. Surely no Christian man, no
Christian woman, can neglect to consult in these ways the wants
of spiritual life. Individuals who never ask in reference
to what they read, “Will this be beneficial or injurious to
my highest interests?” are culpably negligent and careless,
and are running immense risks. They are in danger far
greater than that of persons who, with delicate constitutions, set
at defiance medical caution and advice, and are determined to eat
and drink whatever they please. And before quitting this
point, let me add that it is of the last importance we should
apply to ourselves conscientiously, and in the sight of God, what
we learn from the stores of Christian practical literature.
For, whilst recreation and amusement may be wisely sought at
times from other departments of reading, recreation and amusement
are not the objects to be sought in the reading of strictly
religious books: far higher objects come before us
there—even the purification of our thoughts, the lifting
our affections upwards to the supreme Author of all Good, and the
fastening of our hearts on Christ, the only name given under
heaven whereby we can be saved; and to secure these objects a
different frame of mind must be maintained from that in which we
indulge when we take up a volume simply to relieve a jaded mind
or to while away an idle hour.
If one use of the many books in the world be our own
edification, another use to be made of them is the spiritual
welfare of others.
Although it follows as a necessary consequence that if
Christian literature be available for the first of these purposes
it is available also for the second, we find it very difficult to
impress some minds with a due conviction of the value and
importance of such instrumentality in promoting the highest
interests of our fellow-men. There are many whom it is hard
enough to inspire with zeal for the direct conversion of their
friends and neighbours by means of circulating religious tracts;
but there are more whom it is still harder to convince that
spiritual benefit may be indirectly communicated to large classes
of society by purifying the streams of general literature, and by
promoting the issue and circulation of good books of various
descriptions. Yet the former kind of zeal—zeal in
circulating tracts for strictly religious ends—is supported no
less by facts than by sound reasoning. A good man, Richard
Knill, used to say in his own simple, emphatic, earnest style,
“One tract may save a soul.” That simple saying
he was wont to establish and illustrate by incidents which had
occurred under his own notice; and incidents full of this
evidential force, and fraught with heart-stirring influence, are
accumulating every year. And as to zeal in the second
direction, a conviction of the good which may be effected by the
circulation and diffusion of works upon instructive and
interesting subjects, imbued with a Christian tone and spirit, is
deepened by a consideration of the present state of the world,
with all its mental activity and inquisitiveness; the habit of
reading now on the increase in all circles; and the instances
frequently occurring, through the means just indicated, of the
removal of prejudice, and the commenced preparation for something
better in certain minds athirst for knowledge. I am
perfectly sure, and my confidence is the result of long
reflection and experience, that Christians have not yet paid one
tithe of the attention which it deserves to this pressing claim
of the present day. A great deal of money now injudiciously
but benevolently frittered away with the hope of some immediate
brilliant spiritual results, would, I am satisfied, be invested
far more wisely, and, in the end, with a deeper and wider return
of advantage, if devoted to the less imposing object of leavening
our current literature more and more with the sentiments and
principles of genuine Christianity.
And now we are brought face to face with the Religious Tract
Society and its very powerful claims upon our sympathy and
support. It has been in existence upwards of seventy years,
and is one of those vigorous institutions which struck their
earliest roots into the Christian mind of England when our
fathers were terrified by the storms of the French
Revolution. Those institutions were not the seedlings of a
fanatical panic; rather did they arise as healthy offshoots from
God’s Tree of Life, to be planted by the hands of
disinterested charity and cheerful hope. It was a movement
of
Christian philanthropy, taking a specific form, but instinct with
large-hearted and manifold zeal; for out of the early conferences
of its friends sprung the idea of the British and Foreign Bible
Society; and it was in the committee-room of the Tract Society
that the memorable words were uttered, “Bibles for
Wales”—“Why not for the world?” The
Tract Society may be regarded, if not as the mother, yet as the
nurse of the Bible Society. The elder breathes the
unsectarian temper, the Catholic spirit so pre-eminently
manifested by the younger; and, like it, it aims only at bringing
souls into the all-comprehensive flock of the one all-sufficient
Redeemer. It eschews controversy on controversial
questions, and throws its energies into a great crusade against
infidelity, falsehood, sin. “Controversy at
times,” it was remarked in the report for 1869, “may
arise, or local circumstances may exist which tend to divide
sections of Christians one from another; but should not this
tendency be resisted in presence of the weightier controversies
which the whole Church in all parts is called to wage against
ignorance and error—against superstition and
unbelief—against the practical godlessness of the
pleasure-seekers and mammon-lovers amongst all
classes?” This last is the only controversy in which
the Tract Society engages; and it may be expected, therefore, to
rally to itself all those who deem the spread of the truth of
higher importance than similarity of opinion on the
politico-ecclesiastical questions which are disturbing European
society. And this the Committee have no doubt that it will
do. The Society’s motto is—“Christ Jesus,
and Him crucified,”—the only Saviour of the lost, the
only and the all-sufficient Prophet, Priest, and King of his
Church. To bring every thought of both young and old, rich
and poor, scholar and teacher, into subjection to Him, is its one
object. And it therefore claims the prayers and the support
of all who love the Lord Jesus in sincerity and in truth.
The object of the Society is twofold—embracing both the
purposes which I have just been enforcing:—The conversion
of souls,
sought by direct and appropriate means; and the general benefit
of all classes of society, by a supply of works in general
literature purified by the presiding power of Christian truth,
righteousness, love, and wisdom.
The first object was originally the only one, and has ever
been the chief; and the good done by the religious tracts which
the Society has circulated, nobody can calculate. Who can
tell the blessings conveyed in “The Dairyman’s
Daughter” and “The Young Cottager,” tracts
which, though old, can never be out of date—tracts which
have been very rarely equalled, and, I believe, never
surpassed? Others less striking have been the instruments
of vast usefulness. The annual circulation from the London
depot, I see, is 41,044,772; the total of issues, including those
which are from foreign societies, connected with this,
49,000,000. The total circulation of tracts for seventy-one
years reaches the enormous amount of nearly 1,335,000,000.
It would seem, looking at these almost incredible numbers, as if
the world could not contain so many books written of Him; and yet
how many, many millions of the men and women in the world know
nothing of Him, and have never yet been reached by any of these
publications! What shoals have been and still are coming
forth on the other side, full of infidelity and superstition and
vice! So that, after all, the work of this Society is not
half done.
The second object—the hallowing of literature with a
Christian spirit—has increasingly occupied the attention of
the Society of late years, but never, in the slightest degree, to
the neglect of the first. The catalogue of its published
books includes, besides solid divinity, lively histories,
pleasant biographies, sparkling fictions, religious, moral, and
descriptive poetry. Old works are brought out in modern
dress under the care of competent editors; works entirely new are
issued under the sanction of the Committee, which renders itself
responsible for their contents. The pencil of the artist,
the burin of the engraver, are employed in the illustration and
adornment of many of the publications; and in an artistic as
well as literary respect, “The Leisure Hour” and the
“Sunday at Home” stand deservedly high amongst our
popular periodicals. They are making way amongst the
intelligent and the tasteful, conciliating prejudice, producing
favourable impressions of Christian truth, and guiding the young
into right paths.
The prophet Ezekiel stood in the court of the Temple at
Jerusalem, and watched the flow of waters issuing “from
under the threshold of the house eastward,” and descending
the slope of Zion into the Valley of Jehoshaphat; he watched and
followed the man with the measuring line in his hand through the
waters, which were first ancle and then knee deep, and which, as
they proceeded along the limestone gorge, rose up to the loins,
and then became waters to swim in—a river which could not
be passed over. When it reached the Dead Sea it healed the
waters of it, and where it came everything lived. Then the
prophet saw, in vision, groves, orchards, gardens, rising on each
side of this river. Such is the Old Testament type of the
Gospel of Christianity. It may be applied to all forms of
its influence and action. We venture to employ it as a
figure of what this Society is doing. It issues
fertilizing, life-giving, and healing streams, because it is
filling the world with books written about the many things which
Jesus did, and is doing, and will do for the sons of men.
“And by the river, upon the bank thereof, on this side and
on that side, shall grow all trees for meat, whose leaf shall not
fade, neither shall the fruit thereof be consumed: it shall bring
forth new fruit according to his months, because their waters
they issued out of the sanctuary; and the fruit thereof shall be
for meat, and the leaf thereof for medicine.”