SERMON LXII.

THE LOST, NOT ONLY THE VERY WICKED.

First Sunday after Trinity.'

ST. LUKE xvi. 27.

THEN HE SAID, I PRAY THEE THEREFORE, FATHER, THAT THOU WOULDEST SEND HIM TO MY FATHER'S HOUSE: FOR I HAVE FIVE BRETHREN; THAT HE MAY TESTIFY UNTO THEM, LEST THEY ALSO COME INTO THIS PLACE OF TORMENT.

THE second point enforced in this Parable, is one whose practical importance it is impossible to exaggerate: it is this, that in the Last Day, the Lost will not be only they, who shall have become wholly evil, and in whom the CREATOR'S image shall have been entirely effaced.

And here, as in the first point, we arrive at this great truth wholly by the way of inference. It does not appear on the face of the Parable, nor is it brought before us in any way, in any direct perceptible form; but the lesson intended to be learnt, is dependent for its perception on the considerate thoughtfulness with

1 See also Sermon X., First Series, "Dives and Lazarus," by the Rev. W. J. Irons, B.D.; and Sermon XI., First Series, "Manoah's Prayer," by the Rev. Henry Hopwood, M.A.

2 See Sermon for "St. Stephen's Day," Vol. I., Second Series.

which we ponder on the Parable; on that spirit of faith and love, which catches at and discerns hints and intimations which others are insensible to. Thus is it that the Gospel is a discerner of spirits, and thus also it is that the words of our blessed LORD receive a perpetual fulfilment, "He that hath ears to hear, let him hear."

We arrive at this awful truth from the further intimations given us of the character of Dives. Dives is not represented, as what we ordinarily call a wicked man, but as one, in whom habitual luxury and selfindulgence had deadened, if not absolutely extinguished, all active feelings of charity and compassion. This view of his character receives a further confirmation, when our LORD removes the veil, and shows us in vision, not only the place of rest and the place of torment, but continues the description and places before us Dives, with a lamentable voice, entreating Abraham for some alleviation of his torment: "Father Abraham, send Lazarus (the wretched beggar, whom in his selfindulgent luxury, he had scorned to look upon), that he may dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am tormented in this flame." We need not dwell long upon what is strictly meant by the terms "Abraham's bosom," and "Hell." They are not, in all probability, those places of final rest and final torment, which we understand by the terms Heaven and Hell: but according to the judgment of the Universal Church, those intermediate and conscious states of hope and fear, in which the souls of the righteous and the wicked are awaiting the final judgment of the Last Day. But for all practical purposes they are the same: the misery of Dives was but the anticipation of the coming Judgment, as the rest of

Abraham's bosom was to Lazarus, but the foretaste of the future and final rest of Heaven.

We may observe, in the pitiable entreaty of Dives, that he tacitly acknowledges the justice of his sentence, however hopeless and severe. We may imagine, that after death, the miserable and conscious soul had been awakened to the full sense of its guilt and deserved punishment and this is intimated by the absence of all complaint or remonstrance, nay, so complete is this terrible and self-condemning conviction, that he petitions only for a small and temporary alleviation of his extreme misery, and this is apparently wrung from him by its overwhelming bitterness. Nor must we fail

to observe, that he is represented as thoroughly humbled by misery and conscious sin: he requests that Lazarus, he who had known him in his state of worldly happiness, that Lazarus, who was now "comforted " while he was "tormented," might be permitted to relieve him even were it but for a moment. Surely this indicates an heart not wholly hardened, a spirit from which better things might have been expected, before corrupted by habitual self-indulgence. And when, in reply, Abraham tells him, that his request even for that small and momentary relief, could not be granted, that his misery was hopeless and irretrievable, that between them a great gulf was for ever fixed, “so that they which would pass from hence to you cannot, neither can they pass to us that would come from thence," the unhappy wretch resigns himself to his fate, unresistingly, uncomplainingly. He abandons at once and for ever all hope of relief or pardon : but even in this dread extremity, his human feelings of natural love and affection for his earthly relations, gush forth with most touching tenderness. "Then he said, I

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pray thee therefore, father, that thou wouldest send him to my father's house, for I have five brethren, that he may testify unto them, lest they also come into this place of torment." I know not anything in Holy Scripture so painfully affecting as this-himself for ever lost, in misery of a depth and intensity such as we cannot long and steadily contemplate, and which our LORD has mercifully only glanced at in few though awful words; a misery, such as, we might think, would leave him nothing but one absorbing feeling of impotent despair; amidst even this, his heart yearns towards his brethren, those whom he loved, however imperfectly, on earth the prevailing thought and anxiety is for them, "lest they also come to this place of torment.” All selfish feeling was lost in tender love, quickened by the sense of his own deep misery, for those whom he wished he might never more behold; and the unselfish, disinterested thought manifested itself in that affecting, though unavailing prayer.

Oh, terrible scene, which is thus revealed to us! Here is one of those who are for ever lost, exhibiting feelings of natural, yea Christian love, for the spiritual welfare of those once dear, from whom he was for ever parted, and whom he knew he should never more behold.

This was a character far from being wholly evil: far indeed, from what we imagine to be the moral condition of those, whom we think of with fear and trembling, when they have passed into the Eternal State. Let us endeavour to bring it more close to us, and realize it more fully.

Suppose that we stood around the death-bed of such an one as Dives; of a worldly man, who had led a worldly life; and who in that dread hour was fully

awakened to the unchristian character of his past life, and felt that he was about to render up his account, with no other mark of his high and holy calling, save the title of Christian; that, like Dives, he felt himself without excuse. Suppose then further, amidst his own deep misery and utter wretchedness, we saw him moved at the thought of those whom he left behind, and whom he knew to be walking in the same broad and easy path which had proved so fatal to himself: and that we heard him express himself, in terms of anxious tenderness and love, for their spiritual state: and that, in the strength of that love, putting aside the dread thoughts which compassed round his soul, he besought them to flee from the wrath to come, and warned them that they might not be partakers with him of his own commencing torment. What would be our feelings at witnessing the pouring forth in such a moment, of such affections? Undoubtedly, we should leave that bed of death hopeful and comforted: however conscious of his faults, and of the worldly character of his past life, we should say within ourselves, "He will not, cannot be lost, his soul will be saved in the day of the LORD:" and we should commit his body to the ground, with far different feelings perhaps than those with which we at first regarded his approaching death.

However natural and blameless such thoughts and feelings, the Parable tells us we should err in the judgment we had formed. Abraham in his reply is uninfluenced by these remnants of moral goodness, and passes on to the consideration, that his request, if granted, would be fruitless, that they for whom he pleaded so strongly, and so affectingly, had light suffi