and not the necessary life of every man, the ignoring of the deep, elemental struggle between the good and evil, that spiritual progress is a battle with the beast? The vision of human need is not only personal, but social. It identifies self with the sin and suffering and struggle of men. 'And I dwelt amongst a people of unclean lips." There is no sense of superiority, and separation from men. The people were his people and their life was his life. His patriotism was a part of his religion. He felt the shame of the national sin as his own. was identified in a thousand ways with the men about him. He A sense of social solidarity is a part of every full vision of human need. We are We are part of a people of unclean lips. involved in the weakness and guilt of the age. The progress of civilization so far is over the buried hopes and broken bodies of multitudes. The mark of blood, the blood of the helpless and the innocent, is on the clothes we wear, and the food we take. The growing social consciousness must give a more penetrative and inclusive definition of sin, a keener sensitiveness to human relation and action. To us belongeth confusion of face. The sense of social sin should keep us from all hardness and censoriousness and self-righteousness, and fill us with a divine pity for the multitudes. The sense of lack, of moral defect, the humility that knows and confesses it has not attained, is the condition of all growth, use, leadership in religious life. There is no conflict between true self-respect and the deepest humility. In fact, the nobler expression of self is born of the meek and lowly spirit. A man is never so much himself as when he bows before God. A man must be beaten out of all self-conceit before God can make any large use of him. The childlike spirit is the path of spiritual greatness. A self-satisfied man cannot understand God's voice, and is often saying "not so, Lord" to the simplest commands of Christ. God pardons the humble soul. The joy of forgiveness must precede any real teaching of transgressors God's ways. The moral majesty and the eternal compassion of God must be felt before his word shall command the life. The live coal from the altar touches the lips. Iniquity is taken away and sin is purged. Fellowship is restored. Love makes the soul ready. Love constrains. Nothing can be too great for love to offer. The called man has the vision of opportunity. C "Whom shall I send and who will go for us?" You will notice that it is an invitation, and not a command. God does not wish any unwilling messengers, any slaves, driven to their tasks by the lash, but sons, friends, co-workers, who regard service as the privilege of love, and coöperation with the Master as the highest human honor. We need to bring all the motives to bear upon our work and not to despise the lowest. The stern sense of duty may need often to compel us or hold us to our tasks. And duty is the voice of God, and "wears the Godhead's most benignant grace." But the power that most effectively constrains is love. Phillips Brooks compares the secondary motives of the ministry (such as the joy of work, the love of influence, the perception of moral order, the concern for truth) and the chief motive (the realized value of the human soul, the passion for humanity) to the staff around the commanding officer. "I am not convinced by what you say. I am not sure but that I can answer every one of your arguments,' said a man, with whom a preacher had been pleading; 'but there is one thing which I confess I cannot understand. It puzzles me, and makes me feel a power in what you say. It is why you should care enough for me to take all this trouble, and to labour with me as if you cared It is a power which every for my soul.' man must feel. It inspires the preacher; and his hearers, catching its influence, become softened and ready to receive the truth. It is strength in the arm which strikes, and tenderness in the rock which receives the blow." ("Lectures on Preaching," page 257.) Isaiah saw the need of his people. He felt their tragic failure to live as the chosen of God. He saw the opportunity to give the word of warning, of judgment, of comfort and hope. The soul of the prophet responded to the call. "Here am I. Send me." There was entire freedom, and entire committal. The vision of God and of human need is our opportunity. We cannot fail to see it as we look at modern life. Men all around us, reckless of their gifts, trying to satisfy the craving of the immortal spirit with a fools' Paradise; multitudes in conventional religious life, who have no vital faith; who have lost the way, and need some one to show them the Father; multitudes more, so pressed by the struggle of life that the soul seems to have dropped out; the neglected on all our frontiers; those scattered on the mountains as sheep having no shepherd; the congested masses of great cities, who live sore lives, dumb and numb under their low sky; and the peoples who do not know that the Sun of Righteousness has risen, with healing on his wings. Whom shall I send? And who will go for us? Here am I. Send me! "Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer him, To be a called man, to have the sense of the chosen of God! This gives the worth, the dignity, the purpose of life. Several years ago, in returning from a Western vacation, by the Great Lakes, the steamer stopping in the early evening at Detroit, I found myself in a square before the Russell House, listening to a street preacher. The motley throng that gathered is always of dramatic interest, working men and women, going home with their pails, loungers from the corners, drawn by idle curiosity, women of the town, and here and there a man, going out to dine. And through all indifference and interruption the preacher held his appointed way, with a purpose and a passion that did its arresting and convincing work. In the midst of the sermon he stopped, |