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holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come.”

      Ah! what a Gospel lies within those words!  A Gospel?  Ay, if you will receive it, the root of all other possible Gospels, and good news for all created beings.  What a Gospel! and what an everlasting fount of comfort!  Surely of those words it is true, “blessed are they who, going through the vale of misery, find therein a well, and the pools are filled with water.”  Know you not what I mean?  Happier, perhaps, are you—the young at least among you—if you do not know.  But some of you must know too well.  It is to them I speak.  Were you never not merely puzzled—all thinking men are that—but crushed and sickened at moments by the mystery of evil?  Sickened by the follies, the failures, the ferocities, the foulnesses of mankind, for ages upon ages past?  Sickened by the sins of the unholy many—sickened, alas! by the imperfections even of the holiest few?  And have you never cried in your hearts with longing, almost with impatience, Surely, surely, there is an ideal Holy One somewhere, or else how could have arisen in my mind the conception, however faint, of an ideal holiness?  But where, oh where?  Not in the world around, strewed with unholiness.  Not in myself—unholy too, without and within—seeming to myself sometimes the very worst company of all the bad company I meet, because it is the only bad company from which I cannot escape.  Oh, is there a Holy One, whom I may contemplate with utter delight? and if so, where is He?  Oh, that I might behold, if but for a moment, His perfect beauty, even though, as in the fable of Semele of old, the lightning of His glance were death.  Nay, more, has it not happened to some here—to clergyman, lawyer, physician, perhaps, alas! to some pure-minded, noble-hearted woman—to be brought in contact perforce with that which truly sickens them—with some case of human folly, baseness, foulness—which, however much their soul revolts from it, they must handle, they must toil over many weeks and months, in hope that that which is crooked may be made somewhat straight, till their whole soul was distempered, all but degraded, by the continual sight of sin, till their eyes seemed full of nothing but the dance of death, and their ears of the gibbering of madmen, and their nostrils with the odours of the charnel house, and they longed for one breath of pure air, one gleam of pure light, one strain of pure music, to wash their spirits clean from those foul elements into which their duty had thrust them down perforce?

      And then, oh then, has there not come to such an one—I know that it has come—that for which his spirit was athirst, the very breath of pure air, the very gleam of pure light, the very strain of pure music, for it is the very music of the spheres, in those same words, “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come;” and he has answered, with a flush of keenest joy, Yes.  Whatever else is unholy, there is an Holy One, spotless and undefiled, serene and self-contained.  Whatever else I cannot trust, there is One whom I can trust utterly.  Whatever else I am dissatisfied with, there is One whom I can contemplate with utter satisfaction, and bathe my stained soul in that eternal fount of purity.  And who is He?  Who save the Cause and Maker, and Ruler of all things, past, present, and to come?  Ah, Gospel of all gospels, that God Himself, the Almighty God, is the eternal and unchangeable realisation of all that I and all mankind, in our purest and our noblest moments, have ever dreamed concerning the true, the beautiful, and the good.  Even though He slay me, the unholy, yet will I trust in Him.  For He is Holy, Holy, Holy, and can do nothing to me, or any creature, save what He ought.  For He has created all things, and for His pleasure they are and were created.

      Whosoever has entered, though but for a moment, however faintly, partially, stupidly, into that thought of thoughts, has entered in so far into the communion of the elect; and has had his share in the everlasting All Saints’ Day which is in heaven.  He has been, though but for a moment, in harmony with the polity of the Living God, the heavenly Jerusalem; and with an innumerable company of angels, and the church of the first-born who are written in heaven; and with the spirits of just men made perfect, and with all past, present, and to come, in this and in all other worlds, of whom it is written, “Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.  Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.  Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.  Blessed are they who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake: for their’s is the kingdom of heaven.”  Great indeed is their reward, for it is no less than the very beatific vision to contemplate and adore.  That supreme moral beauty, of which all earthly beauty, all nature, all art, all poetry, all music, are but phantoms and parables, hints and hopes, dim reflected rays of the clear light of that everlasting day, of which it is written—that “the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.”

      SERMON II.  PREPARATION FOR ADVENT

      Westminster Abbey.  November 15, 1874.

      Amos iv. 12.  “Prepare to meet thy God, O Israel.”

      We read to-day, for the first lesson, parts of the prophecy of Amos.  They are somewhat difficult, here and there, to understand; but nevertheless Amos is perhaps the grandest of the Hebrew prophets, next to Isaiah.  Rough and homely as his words are, there is a strength, a majesty, and a terrible earnestness in them, which it is good to listen to; and specially good now that Advent draws near, and we have to think of the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, and what His coming means.  “Prepare to meet thy God,” says Amos in the text.  Perhaps he will tell us how to meet our God.

      Amos is specially the poor man’s prophet, for he was a poor man himself; not a courtier like Isaiah, or a priest like Jeremiah, or a sage like Daniel; but a herdsman and a gatherer of sycamore fruit in Tekoa, near Bethlehem, where Amos was born.  Yet to this poor man, looking after sheep and cattle on the downs, and pondering on the wrongs and misery around, the word of the Lord came, and he knew that God had spoken to him, and that he must go and speak to men, at the risk of his life, what God had bidden, against all the nations round and their kings, and against the king and nobles and priests of Israel, and the king and nobles and priests of Judah, and tell them that the day of the Lord is at hand, and that they must prepare to meet their God.  And he said what he felt he must say with a noble freedom, with a true independence such as the grace of God alone can give.  Amaziah, the priest of Bethel, who was worshipping (absurd as it may seem to us) God and the golden calf at the same time in King Jeroboam’s court, complained loudly, it would seem, of Amos’s plain speaking.  How uncourteous to prophesy that Jeroboam should die by the sword, and Israel be carried captive out of their own land!  Let him go home into his own land of Judah, and prophesy there; but not prophesy at Bethel, for it was the king’s chapel and the king’s court.  Amos went, I presume, in fear of his life.  But he left noble words behind him.  “I was no prophet,” he said to Amaziah, “nor a prophet’s son, but a herdsman, and a gatherer of wild figs.  And the Lord took me as I followed the flock, and said, Go, prophesy unto my people Israel.”  And then he turned on that smooth court-priest Amaziah, and pronounced against him, in the name of the Lord, a curse too terrible to be repeated here.

      Now what was the secret of this inspired herdsman’s strength?  What helped him to face priests, nobles, and kings?  What did he believe?  What did he preach?  He believed and preached the kingdom of God and His righteousness; the simple but infinite difference between right and wrong; and the certain doom of wrong, if wrong was persisted in.  He believed in the kingdom of God.  He told the kings and the people of all the nations round, that they had committed cruel and outrageous sins, not against the Jews merely, but against each other.  In the case of Moab, the culminating crime was an insult to the dead.  He had burned the bones of the king of Edom into lime.  In the case of Ammon, it was brutal cruelty to captive women; but in the cases of Gaza, of Tyre, and of Edom, it was slave-making and slave-trading invasions of Palestine.  “Thus saith the Lord: For three transgressions of Gaza, and for four, I will not turn away the punishment thereof; because they carried away captive the whole captivity, to deliver them up to Edom.  But I will send a fire upon the wall of Gaza, which shall devour the palaces thereof.”

      Yes.  Slave-hunting and slave-trading wars—that was and is an iniquity which the just and merciful Ruler of the earth would not, and will not, pardon.  And honour to those who, as in Africa of late, put down those foul deeds, wheresoever they are done; who, at the risk of their own lives, dare free the captives from

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