SERMON I
THE BEATIFIC VISION

Matthew xxii. 27

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.

These words often puzzle and pain really good people, because they seem to put the hardest duty first.  It seems, at times, so much more easy to love one’s neighbour than to love God.  And strange as it may seem, that is partly true.  St. John tells us so—‘He that loves not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen?’  Therefore many good people, who really do love God, are unhappy at times because they feel that they do not love him enough.  They say in their hearts—‘I wish to do right, and I try to do it: but I am afraid I do not do it from love to God.’

I think that they are often too hard upon themselves.  I believe that they are very often loving God with their whole hearts, when they think that they are not doing so.  But still, it is well to be afraid of oneself, and dissatisfied with oneself.

I think, too—nay, I am certain—that many good people do not love God as they ought, and as they would wish to do, because they have not been rightly taught who God is, and what He is like.  They have not been taught that God is loveable; they have been taught that God feels feelings, and does deeds, which if a man felt, or did, we should call him arbitrary, proud, revengeful, cruel: and yet they are told to love him; and they do not know how to love such a being as that.  Nor do I either, my friends.

Let us therefore think over to-day for ourselves why we ought to love God; and why both Bible and Catechism bid child as well as man to love the Lord our God with all our hearts, souls, and minds, before they bid us love our neighbours.  And keep this in mind all through, that the reason why we are to love God must depend upon what God’s character is.  For you cannot love any one because you are told to love them.  You can only love them because they are loveable and worthy of your love.  And that they will not be, unless they are loving themselves; as it is written, we love God because he first loved us.

Now, friends, look at this one thing first.  When we see any man do a just action, or a kind action, do we not like to see it?  Do we not like the man the better for doing it?  A man must be sunk very low in stupidity and ill-feeling—dead in tresspasses and sins, as the Bible calls it—if he does not.  Indeed, I never saw the man yet, however bad he was himself, who did not, in his better moments, admire what was right and good; and say, ‘Bad as I may be, that man is a good man, and I wish I could do as he does.’

One sees the same, but far more strongly, in little children.  From their earliest years, as far as I have ever seen, children like and admire what is good, even though they be naughty themselves; and if you tell them of any very loving, generous, or brave action, their hearts leap up in answer to it.  They feel at once how beautiful goodness is.

But why?

St. John tells us.  That feeling comes, he tells us, from Christ, the light who is the life of men, and lights every man who comes into the world; and that light in our hearts, which makes us see, and admire, and love what is good, is none other than Christ himself shining in our hearts, and showing to us his own likeness, and the beauty thereof.

But if we stop there; if we only admire what is good, without trying to copy it, we shall lose that light.  Our corrupt and diseased nature (and corrupt and diseased it is, as we shall surely find, as soon as we begin to try to do right) will quench that heavenly spark in us more and more, till it dies out—as God forbid that it should die out in any of us.  For if it did die out, we should care no more for what is good.  We should see nothing beautiful, and noble, and glorious, in being just, and loving, and merciful.  And then, indeed, we should see nothing worth loving in God himself:—and it were better for us that we had never been born.

But none of us, I trust, are fallen as low as that.  We all, surely, admire a good action, and love a good man.  Surely we do.  Then I will go on, to ask you one question more.

Did it ever strike you, that goodness is not merely a beautiful thing, but THE beautiful thing—by far the most beautiful thing in the world; and that badness is not merely an ugly thing, but the ugliest thing in the world?—So that nothing is to be compared for value with goodness; that riches, honour, power, pleasure, learning, the whole world and all in it, are not worth having, in comparison with being good; and the utterly best thing for a man is to be good, even though he were never to be rewarded for it: and the utterly worst thing for a man is to be bad, even though he were never to be punished for it; and, in a word, goodness is the only thing worth loving, and badness the only thing worth hating.

Did you ever feel this, my friends?  Happy are those among you who have felt it; for of you the Lord says, Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness; for they shall be filled.  Ay, happy are you who have felt it; for it is the sign, the very and true sign, that the Holy Spirit of God, who is the Spirit of goodness, is working in your hearts with power, revealing to you the exceeding beauty of holiness, and the exceeding sinfulness of sin.

But did it never strike you besides, that goodness was one, and everlasting?  Let me explain what I mean.

Did you never see, that all good men show their goodness in the same way, by doing the same kind of good actions?  Let them be English or French, black or white, if they be good, there is the same honesty, the same truthfulness, the same love, the same mercy in all; and what is right and good for you and me, now and here, is right and good for every man, everywhere, and at all times for ever.  Surely, surely, what is noble, and loveable, and admirable now, was so five thousand years ago, and will be five thousand years hence.  What is honourable for us here, would be equally honourable for us in America or Australia—ay, or in the farthest star in the skies.

But, some of you may say, men at different times and in different countries have had very different notions—indeed quite opposite notions, of what men ought to be.

I know that some people say so.  I can only answer that I differ from them.  True, some men have had less light than others, and, God knows, have made fearful mistakes enough, and fancied that they could please God by behaving like devils: but on the first principles of goodness, all the world has been pretty well agreed all along; for wherever men have been taught what is really right, there have been plenty of hearts to answer, ‘Yes, this is good! this is what we have wanted all along, though we knew it not.’  And all the wisest men among the heathen—the men who have been honoured, and even worshipped as blessings to their fellow men, have agreed, one and all, in the great and golden rule, ‘Thou shalt love God, with all thy heart and soul, and thy neighbour as thyself.’

Believe about this as you may, my friends, still I believe, and will believe; I preach, and will preach, this, and nought else but this:—That there is but one everlasting goodness, which is good in men, good in all rational beings—yea, good in God himself.

These last are solemn words, but they are true; and the more you think over them, the more, I tell you, will you find them true.  And to them I have been trying to lead you; and will try once more.

For, did it never strike you, again—as it has me—and all the world has looked different to me since I found it out—that there must be ONE, in whom all goodness is gathered together; ONE, who must be perfectly and absolutely good?  And did it never strike you, that all the goodness in the world must, in some way or other, come from HIM?  I believe that our hearts and reasons, if we will listen fairly to them, tell us that it must be so; and I am certain that the Bible tells us so, from beginning to end.  When we see the million rain-drops of the shower, we say, with reason, there must be one great sea from which all these drops have come.  When we see the countless rays of light, we say, with reason, there must be one great central sun from which all these are shed forth.  And when we see, as it were, countless drops, and countless rays of goodness scattered about in the world, a little good in this man, and a little good in that, shall we not say, there must be one great sea, one central sun of goodness, from whence all human goodness comes?  And where can that centre of goodness be, but in the very character of God himself?

Yes, my friends; if you would know what God is, think of all the noble, beautiful, loveable actions, tempers, feelings, which you ever saw or heard of.  Think of all the good, and admirable, and loveable people whom you ever met; and fancy to yourselves all that goodness, nobleness, admirableness, loveableness, and millions of times more, gathered together in one, to make one perfectly good character—and then you have some faint notion of God, some dim sight of God, who is the eternal and perfect Goodness.

It is but a faint notion, no doubt, that the best man can have of God’s goodness, so dull has sin made our hearts and brains: but let us comfort ourselves with this thought—That the more we learn to love what is good, the more we accustom ourselves to think of good people and good things, and to ask ourselves why and how this action and that is good, the more shall we be able to see the goodness of God.  And to see that, even for a moment, is worth all sights in earth or heaven.

Worth all sights, indeed.  No wonder that the saints of old called it the ‘Beatific Vision,’ that is, the sight which makes a man utterly blessed; namely, to see, if but for a moment, with his mind’s eye what God is like, and behold he is utterly good!

No wonder that they said (and I doubt not that they spoke honestly and simply what they felt) that while that thought was before them, this world was utterly nothing to them; that they were as men in a dream, or dead, not caring to eat or to move, for fear of losing that glorious thought; but felt as if they were (as they were most really and truly) caught up into heaven, and taken utterly out of themselves by the beauty and glory of God’s perfect goodness.  No wonder that they cried out with David, ‘Whom have I in heaven, O Lord, but Thee? and there is none on earth whom I desire in comparison of Thee.’  No wonder that they said with St. Peter when he saw our Lord’s glory, ‘Lord, it is good for us to be here,’ and felt like men gazing upon some glorious picture or magnificent show, off which they cannot take their eyes; and which makes them forget for the time all beside in heaven and earth.

And it was good for them to be there: but not too long.  Man was sent into this world not merely to see, but to do; and the more he sees, the more he is bound to go and do accordingly.  St. Peter had to come down from the mount, and preach the Gospel wearily for many a year, and die at last upon the cross.  St. Augustine, in like wise, though he would gladly have lived and died doing nothing but fixing his soul’s eye steadily on the glory of God’s goodness, had to come down from the mount likewise, and work, and preach, and teach, and wear himself out in daily drudgery for that God whom he learnt to serve, even when he could not adore Him in the press of business, and the bustle of a rotten and dying world.

But see, my dear friends, and consider it well—Before a man can come to that state of mind, or anything like it, he must have begun by loving goodness wherever he saw it; and have settled in his heart that to be good, and therefore to do good, is the most beautiful thing in the world.  So he will begin by loving his brother whom he has seen, and by taking delight in good people, and in all honest, true, loving, merciful, generous words and actions, and in those who say and do them.  And so he will be fit to love God, whom he has not seen, when he finds out (as God grant that you may all find out) that all goodness of which we can conceive, and far, far more, is gathered together in God, and flows out from him eternally over his whole creation, by that Holy Spirit who proceeds from the Father and the Son, and is the Lord and Giver of life, and therefore of goodness.  For goodness is nothing else, if you will receive it, but the eternal life of God, which he has lived, and lives now, and will live for evermore, God blessed for ever.  Amen.

So, my dear friends, it will not be so difficult for you to love God, if you will only begin by loving goodness, which is God’s likeness, and the inspiration of God’s Holy Spirit.  For you will be like a man who has long admired a beautiful picture of some one whom he does not know, and at last meets the person for whom the picture was meant—and behold the living face is a thousand times more fair and noble than the painted one.  You will be like a child which has been brought up from its birth in a room into which the sun never shone; and then goes out for the first time, and sees the sun in all his splendour bathing the earth with glory.  If that child had loved to watch the dim narrow rays of light which shone into his dark room, what will he not feel at the sight of that sun from which all those rays had come Just so will they feel who, having loved goodness for its own sake, and loved their neighbours for the sake of what little goodness is in them, have their eyes opened at last to see all goodness, without flaw or failing, bound or end, in the character of God, which he has shown forth in Jesus Christ our Lord, who is the likeness of his Father’s glory, and the express image of his person; to whom be glory and honour for ever.  Amen.