R0M. xiii. 12.
“The night is far spent, the day is at hand: let us therefore
cast off
the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light.”
I DO not know that we can well find a more profitable subject for our
meditations on the four Fridays of this Advent, than the four collects
appointed by the Church for the four several weeks. The first of them,
which we have now been using for nearly a week, is appointed also, as you
know, to be repeated during the whole season: being in fact a prayer. that
we may use that season aright. For the petition which we here ask of God
is, that we may cast away all evil works, and clothe ourselves in all good
works, before it is too late: and the very purpose of the season of Advent
is, to remind us that it will soon be too late. Let us try, for a short
time, to think earnestly of these things; for indeed they are more to us
than any thing else can be.
First of all, we prayed God this morning, and we shall presently pray
Him again, that He would give us grace to “cast away the works of darkness.”
What are “the works of darkness?” Evidently such works as men commonly
choose to do in darkness, i. e. wicked works. For as our Lord says in another
place, " Every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to
the light, lest his deeds should be reproved.” (S. John iii. 20.) Sloth,
for instance, and drunkenness are works of darkness; for it is written,
“ They that sleep, sleep in the night, and they that be drunken, are drunken
in the night.” (1 Thess. v. 7.) Thieving is a work of darkness; for "in
the dark they dig through houses, which they had marked to themselves for
robbery in the day time.” (Job xxiv. 16.) Adultery and sinful lusts are
works of darkness; we know how people, who are not grown utterly shameless,
labour to hide their transgressions in that kind. “The eye of the adulterer,”
saith Job, "waiteth for the twilight, saying, no eye shall see me, and
disguiseth his face.” (Job. xxiv. 15.) These then are the works of darkness;
and even as, when the day breaks, men are forced for a time to give over
such doings as these, so much more, when Advent comes, the token of His
arising, Who is the true light, it is high time to put off all these things,
once and for ever.
And you may observe that the Apostle’s word is, not simply “put off”
but, “cast away.” We are to cast and throw from us all such wicked and
shameful doings, with disdain and abhorrence, as though we could not hate
them enough: just as if any person had taken up a serpent, or any other
loathsome and venemous reptile in his hand, he would presently shake it
out, and cast it from him with disgust.
And we are not only told to rid and purge ourselves of these, but also
to provide and keep the contrary virtues. “Let us cast away the works of
darkness and let us put on the armour of light.” As if, when the light
is just about to shine forth in the morning, some friend should come to
the room where a man is sleeping, and stir him up, to prepare himself and
be ready to set about his day’s work; so does the Apostle, in this and
every Advent, knock at the door of our hearts. He cries aloud to us in
our Saviour’s Name, and if we are not very dead asleep, very dull and hard-hearted
indeed, we can hardly help starting up and attending to him. What is his
cry? “The night is far spent, the day is at hand.” This time of ours on
earth, which is in comparison but a night, not shewing things as they really
are, full of temptations and hindrances to the doing of God’s work, this
our earthly time is far spent; the day, the open and clear day of the other
world, is at hand. The darkness of the evil world will soon pass, and Jesus
Christ, the true light, will shine forth, and wake us all up, whether we
be willing or no: well for those whom He, when He comes, shall find watching;
already awake, and dressed, and with their prayers said, and ready to be
employed in any work which He may set them.
And as persons when they are called, and arise in the morning, presently
begin to put on their clothes, so the Apostle invites us, and we pray in
the Church for help, to put on the armour of light: the clothes which are
proper to be worn in the day time, while we are about our work, and the
full light is shining upon us. And these clothes are called “armour,” because
our condition in this world is a warfare, a continual war against the world,
the flesh, and the devil, and our calling is that of soldiers; and has
been so ever since that time, when we were sealed “with the sign of the
Cross, in token that we were to fight under Christ’s banner, and to continue
His faithful soldiers.” Now what this Christian clothing, or armour of
light is, we know from other places of Holy writ. There is “the shield
of faith;” entire belief in the great things out of sight. There is “the
helmet of salvation;” hope, that through Christ we may be saved, on our
true repentance and dutiful obedience. There is the “breastplate of love”
and true charity, to guard our hearts from evil and selfish desires. There
is “the sword of the Spirit, that is, the Word of God;” His holy commandments,
deeply fixed in our heart, and always ready for our use, that by the remembrance
of them we may put away proud, unkind, impure, foolish imaginations. This
is the armour of light: these are the portions of a Christian man’s armour,
which lie, as it were, by his bedside, when he awakes in the morning, and
which Christ expects him to put on, as he would his clothing, to prepare
himself for the duties of the day. How is he to put it all on? By good
thoughts and good resolutions; considering beforehand what he will have
to do that day; what temptations he is likely to meet with, and how he
may best prepare against them. And this cannot be, without earnest prayer;
therefore the Christian warrior will be very punctual and very attentive
in his morning prayers.
And when this time of Advent comes, which is so far like the morning,
in that it is a new beginning, the Church opening her new year, we shall,
if we are wise, be yet more diligent than usual in attending to our Lord’s
call, throwing aside all encumbrances, girding on our armour, and saying
our prayers. Too much reason have we, most of us, to look upon the time
past as a night, wherein we have been either asleep, or doing what we were
ashamed of. Yet, if we will so use it, this Advent may prove to us a blessed
morning; we may, if we will, wake up at the call of our Saviour, and begin
dressing ourselves, and doing His work.
But we know how it often happens, when people are “lying down, loving
to slumber,” and the morning comes suddenly upon them, and some one cries
out, “Awake, thou that sleepest.” Many are obstinate in their sleepiness,
and refuse to hear the voice; they turn on the other side, and say, Why
am I disturbed? I will seek my slumber again. Or if they are awakened,
they are content to lie awake, thinking of getting up and dressing and
doing their work, and so time passes, they little think how much, and very
likely, it becomes too late for their task to be done at all that day;
or at any rate, they cannot do so much, nor so well, as if they had started
up at once. So it is, still more commonly alas! in the great work of answering
Christ’s call, preparing for judgement, and saving our souls. How many
of us never quite open their ears to the morning invitations, the Advent
calls of our Saviour! We are aware, we cannot deny it to ourselves, that
He is really there, that He is standing at our door and knocking; but we
are content to have a very dim, unreal and ineffectual consciousness of
His Presence: we go on slumbering in our sins and carelessness, and think,
perhaps, now and then, of getting up by and by; and in the mean time the
hours pass away, and it may no more be said to us, “The night is far spent,
the Day is at hand,” but rather, alas! “The day is far spent,” the day
of your trial here as a Christian; and the night, the night in which “no
man can work,” the night of death and judgement is hard at hand, and what
have you done? what are you doing now? Can it be at all said that you are
preparing for it? How fearful is this danger! how inexcusable this trifling
with our God, and with our souls! Only give ear again to the Church’s collect.
It prays that we may do what ought to be done, “now in the time of this
mortal life,” “that in the last day, we may rise to the life immortal.”
Thus our two lives are set one against the other: one very short, the other
as long as Eternity: the one coming presently to the grave and gate of
death, the other never coming to any end at all. And yet the two are so
wonderfully connected, that the life to come shall depend entirely on this
life, and by the proper or improper employment of our brief moments here,
it will be determined, how we shall pass the never-ending ages, that are
to come after death. You think it a trifle, perhaps, how you pass this
or that hour, what words you say, what thoughts you indulge, how you behave
yourself in this or that business or amusement. Believe me, dearly beloved,
it is no trifle: it will tell, for good or for evil, upon your soul for
ever; though it be but an idle word, you will have to give account of it.
And if all this seems too high and strange for you, as if your minds
could not at all take it in, nor think how such poor weak beings and their
ways should be of so much consequence, remember once more the teaching
of the collect; remember that to visit and save us, and such as we are,
the Son of God, Jesus Christ, came once in great humility: that, to try
and judge such as we are, He will soon be here again in His glorious Majesty.
Surely what He cares so much for, must be great and serious, and worth
our caring for, how simple and trifling soever it may seem to us.
I entreat you, therefore, for God’s sake, do not stay considering, whether
it is really worth your while to set about holy duties, such as prayer
and Communion, but, having been called, awake and bestir yourselves at
once. The night of our world is far spent; the day of God’s world is at
hand. You may hide your eyes and stop your ears, and try to bury yourself
again in your sinful slumbers; but none of all this will prolong your time,
or stay the coming of your Lord one moment, any more than your shrinking
under the bed clothes will keep the sun back from rising. In His own time
He will be here: even now He stands at the door and knocks, and very soon
lie will be in the room. What would you wish to be found doing when He
comes in? Drinking, and rioting, and making merry? Practising unclean ways,
and gazing and longing after evil things? Striving and quarrelling and
grudging against one another? Surely not, my brethren: you would not wish
to be so found of Him: nor yet that, coming suddenly, He should find you
sleeping. Rather you would desire, that He may find you kneeling on your
knees, in fervent prayer, confessing your many sins: or waiting on some
of those whom He calls His brethren, busy about some work of mercy: or
patiently enduring His chastisements: or, at least, honestly and religiously
going on with the task which His Providence orders for you. This is how
we would wish to be found. Let us not only wish, but pray and strive, and
by His grace we shall be found so doing indeed.
