James 1:25 But whoever looks into the perfect law of liberty, and continues therein, he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work… There are some who have not forgotten what manner of men they are, simply because they have never known it. From childhood they have been brought up with utterly false notions of themselves. Subservience and flattery may create convictions which take such firm hold of the mind that it can never get free from them; or constant engrossing work may so expend its forces as to leave none for introspection. But most of us at times have had little glimpses of ourselves. We have been worsted in some conflict; and although we do say to ourselves that the contest was not quite fair, yet there is the fact that we have been beaten, that perhaps we have been beaten often; and there does come the little suggestion of disappointment at times, that perhaps we are not quite so wise and competent as once we took ourselves surely to be. Or some friend whose affection for us determines that we shall not think, without protest, more highly of ourselves than we ought to think — called "the malice of kind people" — such a friend feels it a duty to tell us of some fault which "people talk about and think such a pity," and the spiteful truth, or lie "truth-tinged," gives us a side view of ourselves which we have never seen before, and we do not like it much. Or people talk about graces and gifts which so eminently distinguish others, when, to tell the truth, if anybody is remarkable for possessing them, certainly we thought we were. It was mortifying that nobody seemed to know it. Then, again, there have been moments when, as it were, the devil himself has entered into us, and, by the lurid light of his presence, we have for an instant seen inside some of the dark chambers of our heart, and looked upon the unclean spirits which hide there, yet ready at any moment to go forth on an evil work. Or the vision of some beauty or purity with which the trust of love had endowed us, but which we knew was not ours, or some voice of God which seemed to draw the soul up from its low dwelling-place to fairer regions, have made us dissatisfied with our. selves and shown us our grievous faults, and yet filled us with the hope of rising above them. Few men thoroughly know themselves, few men can look upon their characters as upon a geological map, with each stratum clearly marked, showing its colour and extent and fossil history, so that a man can stand before his mapped-out character and see what manner of man he is. If the dead are able to read their own memoirs, how startled at times they must be, how mortified, how indignant! How should one of us like to read these words about ourselves: "His life was one long series of tricks — mean and malicious. He was all stiletto and mask. To injure, to insult, to save himself from the consequences of injury and insult by lying and equivocating, was the habit of his life. Besides his faults of malignity, of fear, of interest, and of vanity, there were frauds which he committed for love of fraud alone"? Do you think the man about whom such words were written thought himself all that? Yet that is Macaulay's estimate of the character of Pope. But, as I have said, if we know ourselves very imperfectly, we do at times get glimpses of ourselves, and these transient glimpses should be turned to profit in new labour of caution and prayer. In the first place, I think we may say that there are those who not merely forget what manner of men they are, but who almost forget the fact that after all they are only men. Because circumstantially they differ from their fellows, they think that they belong altogether to another race. The vauntings of Nebuchadnezzar; the bursting ostentation of Herod Agrippa; the frenzy of some of the Roman emperors, whose deity compelled obsequious courtiers to shade their eyes; the punctilios of abject daily observance demanded by Louis XIV., these are types of moral dementia. But the same kind of improper forgetfulness extends through all ranks of life. It is sometimes seen in the mental arrogance of some powerful mind, which has nothing but scorn for the simple and the dull It is seen in that overweening sense of social superiority which is a fertile parent of bad manners, If, instead of this weak, foolish self-importance, we realised the Church's teaching, "All ye are brethren," the lot of the humbler and less fortunate of our fellow-men would be alleviated by the tender consideration and affectionate courtesy of those more highly favoured. But if we are in danger of forgetting that we, however highly placed, are only men, is it not a fact that we still more frequently forget that we are weak, faulty, and, indeed, too often fallen men? When one thinks of it, how few things can be more surprising than the readiness with which the mass of mankind are prepared to pass decisive judgment on anything which may come under their notice. They allot approval to this, and pronounce condemnation upon that, and have forgotten what manner of men they are — for-gotten that they possess nothing but inherited prejudices, or capricious partialities, or fugitive reflections from other minds on which to found their assumption. And, more especially, would not the hardness and intolerance which is shown by thousands towards certain Churches and certain parties be shamed away, if only those parties and Churches were thoroughly understood; and if only we all remembered how apparently accidental is our own position, that but for chance, as we say, we might have been that which now we denounce. But, again, if men forget their intellectual poverty, do they not oftener forget their moral depravity? Certainly there is a great deal of evil in the world, but it does not strike one that the mass of mankind are possessed by a sense of their own badness. Take those we severely blame in our tenants, servants, dependants. Have we not quite forgotten that something like the same thing is done by ourselves? Even a fraudulent bank director has sentenced a petty thief to gaol without blushing. The things we have done, and the things we should like to do if we dared — these tell us something of our nature, and should tinge all our judgments with pity. Or, take it again in the quiet scenes of worship, when the tumult of life is stilled, and we draw nigh in confession to the great throne of renewal. There are uttered the solemn words of confession, and on bended knees we join with the priest and make our self-revelation. But what is there we see when we pour forth the litauies of the penitent? Is it a line of hated foes through which we have passed, and by which we have been smitten on every hand, and does the new week show the same dark gauntlet to be run again? and is the cry, "Lord, have mercy upon us," our cry of conflict with recognised evils? Then the pangs of memory become a cross of salvation. Or, on the other hand, when we make our confession, is the only thing we have forgotten our faults and the ruin they are working, our moral diseases and the grave to which they are leading us; and the only thing we see — ourselves arrayed in Sunday graces? Oh, we forget the days of the week, each with its evil of temper, intention, and indulgence, its meanness, its frivolity, its cruelty; the scenes of home, and work, and reelection — the scenes which, if some one for whon we cared had seen, would have compelled an unaccustomed blush — all these we forget as we kneel and confess. Oh! it is time that we remembered ourselves, so would a humbler and more gentle spirit rule us. It is time that we remembered ourselves, so would a regenerating intention inspire us. And if we would indeed see ourselves, and, having seen, see that same self no more, we must "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world." (W. Page Robert. , M. A.) Parallel Verses KJV: But whoso looketh into the perfect law of liberty, and continueth therein, he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work, this man shall be blessed in his deed. |
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