98 Sermon Illustrations on Joy in Christ

I live in a constant endeavor to fence against the infirmities of ill health, and other evils of life, by mirth. I am persuaded, that every time a man smiles — but much more so when he laughs — it adds something to this fragment of life. Sterne.

All good music is sacred if it is heard sacredly; and all poor music is execrably unsacred. The sweetest music is not the peel of marriage-bells, nor tender descants in moonlight woods, nor trumpet-notes of victory: it is the soul's welcome to victory. God grant, that, when we die, there may not come booming to our ear the dreadful sound, "Depart!" but may we hear stealing upon the air the mellow chime of all the celestial bells, saying, "Come, come, come, ye blessed: enter ye into the joy of your Lord." Beecher.

When Madame Guyon was imprisoned in the Castle of Vincennes, in 1695, she not only sang, but wrote, songs of praise to her God. "It sometimes seemed to me," she said, "as if I were a little bird whom the Lord had placed in a cage; and that I had nothing now to do but sing. The joy of my heart gave a brightness to the objects around me. The stones of my prison looked in my eyes like rubies. I esteemed them more than all the gaudy brilliancies of a vain world. My heart was full of that joy which thou givest to them that love thee in the midst of their greatest crosses."

Rejoice with a rejoicing universe. Rejoice with the morning stars, and let your adoring spirit march to the music of hymning spheres. Rejoice with the jocund spring in its gush of hope and its dancing glory, with its swinging insect-clouds and its suffusion of multitudinous song; and rejoice with golden autumn, as he rustles his grateful sheaves, and clasps his purple hands, as he breathes his story of fruition, his anthem of promises fulfilled; as he breathes it softly in the morning stillness of ripened fields, or flings it in Zolian sweeps from lavish orchards and from branches tossing bounty into mellow winds. Rejoice with infancy, as it guesses its wondering way into more and more existence, and laughs and carols as the field of pleasant life enlarges on it, and new secrets of delight flow in through fresh and open senses. Rejoice with the second youth of the heaven-born soul, as the revelations of a second birth pour in upon it, and the glories of a new world amaze it. Rejoice with the joyful believer when he sings, "O Lord! I will praise thee: though thou wast angry with me, thine anger is turned away; thou comfortedst me. Behold, God is my salvation." Rejoice with him whose incredulous ecstasy has alighted on the great gospel-secret; whose eye is beaming as none can beam save that which for the first time beholds the Lamb; whose awe-struck countenance and uplifted hands are evidently exclaiming, "This is my beloved, and this is my friend." Rejoice with saints and angels, as they rejoice in a sight like this. Rejoice with Immanuel, whose soul now sees of its travail. Rejoice with the ever-blessed Three, and with a heaven whose work is joy.

— Dr. J. Hamilton

Religion is not like the prophet's roll, sweet as honey when it was in his mouth, but as bitter as gall in his belly. Religion is no sullen Stoicism, no sour Pharisaism: it does not consist in a few melancholy passions, in some dejected looks or depressions of mind; but it consists in freedom, love, peace, life, and power; the more it comes to be digested into our lives, the more sweet and lovely we shall find it to be. Those spots and wrinkles which corrupt minds think they see in the face of religion are, indeed, nowhere else but in their own deformed and misshapen apprehensions. It is no wonder, when a defiled fancy comes to be the glass, if you have an unlovely reflection. John Smith.

In the "green-room" at Dresden, where for centuries the Saxon princes have gathered their gems and treasures, until they have become worth millions of dollars, may be seen a silver egg, a present to one of the Saxon queens, which, when you touch a spring, opens, and reveals a golden yolk. Within this is hid a chicken, whose wing, being pressed, also flies open, disclosing a splendid gold crown studded with jewels. Another secret spring being touched, hidden in the centre is found a magnificent diamond-ring. The treasures of religion are not discovered at the first view; but, when laid open, are found to be greater than any king ever possessed. Their value will appear greater and greater to all eternity.

It is the color which love wears, and cheerfulness and joy, — these three; it is the light in the window of the face, by which the heart signifies to father, husband, or friend that it is at home and waiting. Beecher.

Mr. Flavel, at one time on a journey, set himself to improve his time by meditation; when his mind grew intent, till at length he had such ravishing tastes of heavenly joy, and such full assurance of his interest therein, that he utterly lost the sight and sense of this world and all its concerns, so that he knew not where he was. At last, perceiving himself faint through a great loss of blood from his nose, he alighted from his horse, and sat down at a spring, where he washed and refreshed himself, earnestly desiring, if it were the will of God, that he might there leave the world. His spirits reviving, he finished his journey in the same delightful frame. He passed that night without any sleep, the joy of the Lord still overflowing him, so that he seemed an inhabitant of the other world. After this, a heavenly serenity and sweet peace long continued with him; and for many years he called that day "one of the days of heaven!" and professed that he understood more of the life of heaven by it, than by all the discourses he had heard, or the books he ever read.

A pious Armenian, calling on Mr. Hamlin, the missionary at Constantinople, remarked that he was astonished to see how the people are waking up to the truth; how, even among the most uncultivated, some are seeking after it as for hid treasure.— "Yes," said he, "it is going forward; it will triumph; but alas! I shall not live to see it. Alas! that I am born an age too soon." "But," said Mr. Hamlin, "do you remember what our Savior said, 'There shall be joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth?' You may not live to see the truth triumphant in this empire; but should you, through divine grace, reach the kingdom of heaven and be with the angels, your joy over your whole nation repentant and redeemed, will be infinitely greater than it could be on earth." He seemed surprised at this thought; but, after examining the various passages to which I referred him, he yielded to the evidence with the most lively expressions of delight, and seemed to be perfectly curaptured at the thought that our interest in the church of Christ and the progress of his kingdom on earth is something which death cannot touch, and which, instead of ceasing with this life, will only be increased and perfected in another. "Oh fool, and slow of heart," said he, "to read the gospel so many times without perceiving such a glorious truth. If this be so, no matter in what age a Christian is born, nor when he dies." # 251. LU

A lady in England, more than seventy years of age, who had long been known as an "Israelite indeed," was called, in the providence of God, to pass her last days in a poor-house.

She was visited one day by a Wesleyan minister; and while in conversation with her on the comforts, prospects, and rewards of religion, he saw an unusual lustre beaming from her countenance, and the calmness of Christian triumph glistening in her eye. Addressing her by name, he said, "Will you tell me what thought it was that passed through your mind, which was the cause of your appearing so joyful?" The reply of the "old disciple" was, "Oh! sir, I was just thinking what a change it will be from the POOR-HOUSE TO HEAVEN!"

# RIDICULE.

daily persecutions did not sometimes make him ready to give up his profession of attachment to Divine truth, he replied, "No; I recollect that our good minister once said in his sermon, that if we were so foolish as to permit such people to laugh us out of our religion, till at last we dropped into hell, they could not laugh us out again."

The holy joy of those who trust in God is a great ornament to God's people and encourages others to trust Him for deliverance

Once upon a time there was a king who was very rich, but very unhappy. He had a beautiful marble palace, with extensive parks and grounds, fine horses and carriages, but he was not happy. So one day he called together his court-messengers, and sent them out into the world, telling them to travel far and wide until they found a man who was happy beyond all others, and when they found him, to take off his shirt and bring it to him. For he thought that perhaps by wearing this shirt he might gain the happiness he sought. The messengers went forth, and after a long search finally found a man who seemed happier than all his fellows. And as he sat singing in the sunshine the king's messengers pounced upon him to take away his shirt; but lo, when they took his coat off they found he had no shirt! The story means this, that happiness does not depend upon what you have or have not. It comes from within, and not from without. If you have the right spirit you will have a song, riches or not. But if you have not the right spirit you will not be happy, no matter what you have.

What angels sang on that first Christmas morn, “Good will to men,” “The Prince of Peace is born,” Breaks once again in benediction clear, Sure song of God, the climax of the year.

Round, round the earth the blessed measures run, Strife sheathes the sword, a thousand think as one, Babes leap for joy, December hearts aglow Burn with the hopes they burned with long ago.

Strain urges strain, benevolence is sped, Dives relents and Lazarus is fed. Mirth makes a laugh where sorrow made a sigh, Heart wakes to heart--the Seraphim are nigh.

“Good will and peace,” the song is on the air, “Good will and peace,” I hear it everywhere-- “Peace on the earth,” in purposes divine, “Good will to men”--and a good will to mine.

Oh, friend unseen, no gift is in my power; Gold would be dross in this triumphant hour. Take, then, the strain the angels sing to me, “Good will and peace,” I send it all to thee.

— L. O. WILLIAMS

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Dr. Raffles once said: “I have made it a rule never to be with any one ten minutes without trying to make him happier.” It was a remark of Dr. Dwight that one who makes a little child happier for half an hour is a fellow worker with God.

A little boy said to his mother: “I couldn’t make sister happy nohow I could fix it. But I made myself happy trying to make her happy.” “I make Jim happy,” said another boy, speaking of his invalid brother. “He laughs and that makes me happy, and I laugh.” “To love and to be loved,” said Sydney Smith, “is the greatest happiness of existence.”

Mrs. Alice Freeman Palmer was once talking to a girls’ club, composed of the unkempt and unprivileged daughters of Eve, and gave them three rules for happiness in the promise that they would keep the rules every day for a week. The rules were, for each day:

First--Commit to memory a worthy sentence.

Second--Do something for others.

Third--See something beautiful.

She met a while after one little girl who declared that she had fulfilled her promise every day; but that one day, when mother was sick, she could not go to the park to see something beautiful, and thought she had lost it, but while doing something for others, in the way of caring for the baby, she looked out of the attic window of her squalid home, and saw a common sparrow, and as she looked at the little fellow, the dark feathers around his throat appearing to her like a smart necktie, she found her vision of the beautiful in what many would consider the most ordinary of all God’s feathered songsters. Oh, but she arrived! arrived in spite of the commonplace which seemed to fetter her, and sunshine came of a dreary day into a dreary room, because of the purpose of her soul.

— NEHEMIAH BOYNTON

John Kendrick Bangs, in the _Atlantic Monthly_, writes an ideal note:

To-day, whatever may annoy The word for me is joy, just simple joy; The joy of life; The joy of children and of wife; The joy of bright blue skies; The joy of rain; the glad surprize Of twinkling stars that shine at night; The joy of wingéd things upon their flight; The joy of noon-day, and the tried True joyousness of eventide; The joy of labor, and of mirth; The joy of air, and sea, and earth-- The countless joys that ever flow from Him Whose vast beneficence doth dim The lustrous light of day, And lavish gifts divine upon our way. Whate’er there be of sorrow I’ll put off till to-morrow, And when to-morrow comes, why then ’Twill be to-day and joy again! (Text.)

I had a sorrow, and I wept salt tears One winter night, and heavy beat the rain; At dawn came frost, and on my window-pane Each drop like fairy lacework now appears.

So shall my grief perchance become a pleasure; Yes, tears maybe are jewels hearts would keep, For in another life we’ll wake from sleep, And light shall sparkle from our new-found treasure.

— BEATRIX L. TOLLEMACHE

These verses are from a poem by John Kendrick Bangs in _The Century_:

He’d never heard of Phidias, He’d never heard of Byron; His tastes were not fastidious, His soul was not aspirin’: But he could tell you what the birds were whisp’ring in the trees, And he could find sweet music in the sounding of the seas, And he could joy in wintry snows, And summer’s sunny weather, And tell you all the names of those Who frolic in the heather.

He nothing knew of sciences, Of art, or eke of letters; Nor of those strange appliances That fill the world with debtors: But happiness he knew right well; he knew from A to Z The art of filling life with song, and others’ souls with glee; And he could joy in day and night, Heart full of pure thanksgiving-- I am not sure he was not right In using life for living.

When Gainsborough was asked how he had obtained the marvelous expression of inward peace on the face of the “Parish Clerk,” he said he painted it in time and tune with the sweet singing of a voice next door, the movements of the brush forming the beautiful face, and that it was the music that looked out from the eyes and smiled on the mouth.--“Stories of the English Artists.”

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Kate Sanborn tells of an old lady of her acquaintance, eighty-three years of age, who is famous among all who know her for her happy cheerfulness. One day when she was choked by a bread-crumb at the table, she said to the frightened waiter as soon as she could regain her breath: “Never mind if that did go down the wrong way. A great many good things have gone down the right way this winter.” (Text.)

— LOUIS ALBERT BANKS

Thomas Traherne, a poet whose works became known only after his death, wrote this verse:

My infancy no sooner opes its eyes But straight the spacious earth Abounds with joy, peace, glory, mirth, And, being wise, The very skies And stars do mine become.

In Brooklyn, two young women undertook to band together a smile club. In this club’s membership may be included every one, everywhere, who is willing to pledge as many smiles as possible to make life generally happier. Here are some of the things required of members: “Radiate! Smile! Shine like a little sun! Begin each day anew, and begin it by smiling until you are in a good humor. Think only of the things you wish to possess or of what you desire to become, for thoughts are things. Have faith and your wishes will come true. Smile! And keep on smiling, and you will find that the happiness you have always been seeking is within yourself. Express this happiness.” Surely no objection can be offered to the organizing of clubs of this sort, tho we need not necessarily join one to acquire and practise the smiling habit. It may be said of smile clubs and smiles, the more the merrier. As a popular post-card puts it: “Smile a while, and while you smile another smiles, and soon there are miles and miles of smiles because you smile.” Grouches could not exist if every one was smiling. It’s worth trying for a few days anyhow, just to see how well it works.

Lovely human play is like the play of the sun. There’s a worker for you. He, steady to his time, is set as a strong man to run his course, but also, he rejoiceth as a strong man to run his course. See how he plays in the morning, with the mists below, and the clouds above, with a ray here and a flash there, and a shower of jewels everywhere--that’s the sun’s play; and great human play is like his--all various--all full of light and life, and tender, as the dew of the morning.

— JOHN RUSKIN

One of the most interesting passages in modern literary history is that in which Audubon, the naturalist, met the sudden destruction, by the voracity of rats, of the treasures he had accumulated in fifteen years of incessant exploration. At the shock of what seemed the irremediable disaster, he was thrown into a fever, which had well-nigh proved fatal. “A burning heat,” as he described it, “rushed through my brain; and my days were oblivion.” But as consciousness returned, and the rally of nature fought back the sudden incursion of disease, there sang again through his wakening thoughts the wild notes he had heard in the bayous of Louisiana, the everglades of Florida, the savannahs of the Carolinas, and the forests that fringe the sides of the Alleghanies. He saw again the Washington eagle, as it soared and screamed from its far rocky eery. He startled again, from her perch on the firs, the brown warbler of Labrador. He traced in thought the magic hues on crest and wing that so often had shone before the dip of his rifle. And the passion for new expeditions and discoveries, arising afresh, was more to him than medicine. In three years more, passed far from home, he had filled once more the despoiled portfolios; and at every step, as he told his biographer, “it was not the desire of fame that prompted him; it was his exceeding enjoyment of nature!”

— RICHARD S. STORRS