A New Road to an Old Morality

“Think not that I am come to destroy the law; I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil.”” — Marr. v. 17. ‘Ye are become dead to the law.’”’ — Rom. vii. 4,

IS there nota great contradiction here? Christ says He has come to fulfil the law; Paul tells his fellow-Christians that they ought to become dead to it! Is there any reconciling of such statements as these? Yes; they are susceptible of a perfect, a glorious harmony. For no law is ever fulfilled until we are dead to it. Of course, there are two opposite ways in which a man may become dead to a law. A habitual criminal may become so hardened as to lose all fear of punishment — even of death itself. This is one way, and he who treads it is a practised law-breaker. But there is another and a contrary road to emancipation from the sense of law. Suppose that the same

criminal should suddenly be touched by one pure affection. I do not mean a sensuous love, but the love for something which is white and innocent. Suppose a little child of his own lays hold of the tendrils of his heart and keeps him in a prison where he never dwelt before. Suppose that this little child should become to him the representative of all childhood, and that his own love for it should become the representative of all parenthood. Suppose that through this common sympathy he should come habitually to put himself in the place of all distressed children and all afflicted fathers and mothers. Do you not see what the effect of this would be? He would still be as dead to the law as ever, but — no longer for the old reason. Yesterday he was regardless of law through want of feeling; to-day he is regardless through feeling. Yesterday the command had no force because he was hardened; to-day the command has no force because he is softened. Yesterday the policeman was useless because he feared him not; to-day the policeman is useless because he needs him not. The policeman is not a motive to him — if he were taken off the beat it would make no difference. He can fulfil the law by love. He has received a more imperative mandate than any prohibitory notice or any judicial bill could furnish. But it is a mandate from within — the magistracy of the heart. He keeps the law because he is dead to it. Wings have made his feet unnecessary. He can traverse the old road by a new vehicle. He can put out the candle when he has seen the sun.

Lord, Thou hast for every striving soul a time when death and hell are “cast into the lake of fire.” Hasten that time for me, O my Father! I should like death and hell to be dead to me — dead, as a motive — dead, as adeterrent. I should like all law to be dead tome. I would not fear my own penalty, but my brother’s pain. I would not dread my personal incarceration, but my victim’s cry. I would not be deterred by fetters, but by feelings. I would not tremble before the doors of the gaol, but before the demands of my own justice. If I see a starving child, let me not say, “I must feed the poor, for those who gave no meat departed into everlasting fire.” Nay, my Father, rather at such seasons would I pray, “Let not my fire of love depart from within me!” Make the hell which I fear unholiness, the chain which I dread uncharity, the fire which I loathe unfeelingness! Teach me that there is no penalty like the penalty of Dives! — to have a great gulf between myself and any suppliant at my gates. May this be the flame I flee from, may this be the worm I beware of! Send the waters of sympathy to cool my thirst! Put a bridge of love over the gulf of selfishness! Create within me the sense of a brother’s want, yea, of an enemy’s want! Let his wounds make me sore; let his griefs make me sad; let his trials make me heavy; let his tears make me weep! Then shall I fulfil the law to whose motives I am dead.