January 6
Companions of the Way (Morning)Non per far, ma per non far, ho perduto.
"THE soul that sinneth, it shall die."—Is that a threat? Is it not the deep utterance of a truth? Indeed, there cannot be a threat that is not the deep utterance of a truth, for no man can permanently suffer except by the eternal necessities of things,—not by whim, but by law. Is it not, then, as if it said, "The soul that sinneth dies, dies in its sinning, dies because for a soul there is no life but holiness"? . . .
"To sin is just so far to cease to live," we said. . . . May we not also say, "To cease to live is just so far to sin"? . . .
The man who does no duty because he has taught other men and himself to look upon him as an unenterprising, good-natured mortal to whom they are to bring no duties,—the creature who sometimes ventures to demand our respect for the very qualities which make him contemptible, who is conservative because radicalism is troublesome, and calm because enthusiasm is a bore; all these, when we see them as Christ sees them, we shall know are wicked men. The lazy and labour-saving saint is a sinner. The man who is not vitally good, is bad, for he is shutting his heart against the work of Him who came that men might have life. God teach us all that to be alive is the first condition of being good!
PHILLIPS BROOKS, The More Abundant Life
DEAD SOULS
He that gathereth not with Me, scattereth.
O PATIENT CHRIST! when long ago O'er old Judea's rugged hills,
Thy willing feet went to and fro To find and comfort human ills— Did once Thy tender, earnest eyes Look down the solemn centuries, And see the smallness of our lives?
Souls struggling for the victory, And martyrs, finding death was gain, Souls turning from the Truth and Thee, And falling deep in sin and pain— Great heights and depths were surely seen, But oh! the dreary waste between— Small lives, not base perhaps, but mean:
Their selfish efforts for the right, Or cowardice that keeps from sin, Content to only see the height That nobler souls will toil to win! Oh shame! to think Thine eyes should see The souls contented just to be— The lives too small to take in Thee.
Lord, let this thought awake our shame, That blessed shame that stings to life, Rouse us to live for Thy dear name, Arm us with courage for the strife. O Christ! be patient with us still; Dear Christ! remember Calvary's hill,— Our little lives with purpose fill!