The Friend of the People

Last century a Russian emperor gained much renown by the exertions and sacrifices he made for his dominions. Impressed by their savage state, and eager to introduce the arts and accomplishments of more cultured nations, he resolved to become himself the engineer and preceptor of his people. Instead of sending a few clever men to glean what they could in foreign regions, he determined to be his own envoy; and leaving his Moscow palace, he set out to travel in Holland and Great Britain. He was particularly anxious to carry home the art of naval architecture; for he wisely judged, that without ships and seamen, his empire would never he able to turn its own resources to account. However, he soon found that no man could learn to he a shiphuilder by merely looking on; hut whatever it might need, Peter was determined to do. With a noble energy, he changed i)is gay clothing for the garb of a carpenter, and spent week after week in the building-yard at Saardam, wielding the hatchet, flourishing the tar-brush, and driving bolts till the pent-house rang again; and soon was he able to go home and teach his people how to build ships for themselves. No wonder that, while other monarchs are depicted in purple and ermine, the artist should prefer representing Peter, the czar of Muscovy, in his red woollen jacket, and crowned with the glazed hat of a sailor, with a timber log for his throne, and an adze for his sceptre. And no wonder that a grateful country should rear to his memory the proudest column in the world, and christen by his name its capital.

Far nobler than this achievement of the emperor Peter, are some facts recorded in the history of philanthropy. It was a nobler thing, for instance, when, in order to gain personal knowledge of its horrors, and to be able to testify against them afterward, an English gentleman took his passage in an African slaver, and submitted voluntarily to months of filth and fever, at the peril of his life, and to the hourly torture of his feelings. And still nobler was the conduct of those angelic missionaries, who, finding no other way to introduce the gospel among the negroes of Barbadoes, sold themselves to slavery, and then told their fellow-bondsmen the news which sets the spirit free. And noblest of all was the self-devotion of two Moravians, of whom some of you have read. They were filled with pity for the inmates of a fearful lazaretto. It was an enclosure in which persons afflicted with leprosy were confined; and so terrified for its contagion were the people, that once within the dismal gates, no one was suffered to quit them again. But the state of its doomed inmates so preyed on these compassionate men, that they resolved at all hazard to cheer them in captivity, and to try to save their souls. They counted the cost. They said: “Farewell, freedom — farewell, society — farewell, happy sun and healthy breezes;” and passed the returnless portals, each a living sacrifice.

The state of our world touched with compassion the Son of God. He left his home in heaven, and came hither. The King of kings put off his glory. He came to this scene of guilt and misery. He left the adoring fellowship above, and came down among creatures who disliked him, and could not comprehend him. On his benevolent errand, he alighted on this plague-stricken planet, and became for more than thirty years identified with its inmates, and in perpetual contact with its sin and its sorrow. And while his eye was intent on some bright consummation, he did not grudge to be for many years the exile and prisoner, and at last the victim.

And I think it should be interesting to you, to remember the lot in human life which the Saviour selected. He had his choice. He might have chosen for his residence a mansion or a palace; but he chose for his domicil, so long as he had one, the cottage of a carpenter. He cast his earthly lot alongside of the laboring man; and besides the intentional lowlihood, there were other ends it answered.

It lent new dignity to labor. Some silly people feel it a disgrace to work; they blush to be detected in an act of industry. They fancy that it is dignity to have nothing to do, and a token of refinement to be able to do nothing. They forget that it is easy to be useless, and that it needs no talent to cumber the ground. But the Lord Jesus knew that it is best for the world when all are workers; and he conformed to the good rule of Palestine, which required every citizen to pursue some employment. And instead of selecting a brilliant occupation, he gave himself to one humble and commonplace, that we might learn how possible it is to do extraordinary good in a very inconspicuous station.

And by this selection he left an example to working men. Rough work is no reason for rude manners or a vulgar mind. Never did there traverse the globe a presence so pure, and a fascination so divine, as moved about in the person of the “carpenter’s son.” So gende in his dignity; so awful in his meekness; so winsome in his lovingness; so dexterous in diffusing happiness; so delicate in healing inward hurts; so gracious in forestalling wishes! no rules of etiquette, no polish of society, can ever yield anew the same majestic suavity. Amid the daily drudgery, his soul was often swellinoj with its wondrous purpose; and while shaping for the boors of Galilee their implements of industry, his spirit was commercing with the sky. They are not little occupations, but little thoughts and little notions, which make the little man; and the grandeur of mien, and the engaging manners, which emerged from that Nazarene workshop, are a lesson to those who handle the hammer, the spade, or the shuttle. But far more, — the sanctity. In a town of bad repute — forced into the company of ruffians and blasphemers, — all the uncongenial fellowship showed him the more conspicuously “holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners.” And if you complain- that you are shut up to the society of loose and low-minded men — if constrained to listen to words ribald and profane, or to witness coarse debauchery — remember that it was in the guise of a laboring man that the Saviour fought the world’s corruption, and overcame. And if like to be worsted, cry for help to Him who, among his other memories of earth, remembers Galilee; — who, now that he has done with the carpenter’s shop for ever, has not forgotten the surly neighbors and the abandoned town; and whose solitary example destroyed the proverb, “Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?”

And by choosing this humble lot, the Saviour learned to sympathize with penury. Whatever wealthy bards may sing of the sweets of poverty, it is a painful thing to be very poor. To be a poor man’s child, and look through the rails of the playground, and envy richer boys for the sake of their many books, and yet be doomed to ignorance; to be apprenticed to some harsh stranger, and feel for ever banished from a mother’s tenderness and a sister’s love; to work when very weary; to work when the heart is sick and the head is sore; to see a wife or a darling child wasting away, and not be able to get the best advice; to hope that better food or purer air might set her up again, but that food you can not buy — that air you must never hope to breathe; to be obliged to let her die; to come home from the daily task, some evening, and see her sinking; to sit up all night, in hope to catch again those precious words you might have heard could you have afforded to stay at home all day, but never hear them; to have no mourners at the funeral, or even carry on your own shoulder through the merry streets the light deal coffin; to see huddled into a promiscuous hole the dust which is so dear to you, and not venture to mark the spot by planted flower or lowliest stone; some bitter winter, or some costly spring, to barter for food the clock or the curious cupboard, or the “Henry’s Commentary,” on which you prided yourself as the heir-loom of a frugal family, and never be able to redeem it; to feel that you are getting old — nothing laid aside, and present earnings scarce sufficient; to change the parlor floor for the top story, and the top story for a single attic, and wonder what change will be the next; — these and a thousand privations are the pains of poverty. And in the days when the world’s Redeemer occupied the poor man’s home, he was familiar with sights the parallels of these. He noted them — he entered into them — he shared theni. Even at the time, he did somewhat to relieve them. It was in such a scene that he let forth the first glimpse of his glory. The scanty store of wine had failed at a marriage-feast, and, to relieve the embarrassment of his humble entertainers, he created a new supply. And it was in a similar scene that the second of his healing miracles was wrought, and his entrance to Simon’s fishing-hut was signalized by restoring from a fever his sick mother-in-law. And, not to dwell on the miracles of mercy which restored to the widow of Nain her only son, and to the sisters of Bethany their only brother, it is worth while to notice how many of his wonders were presents to the poor. A weary boatman has swept the waves all night and captured not a single fin. Jesus bids him drop the net in a particular spot, and instantly it welters with a silvery spoil.

Again and again the eager throng hangs round him till the sun is setting, and it is discovered that there are only a few small loaves among all the fainting thousands; but he speaks the word, and as little loaves bulk out an endless banquet, the famished villagers rejoice in the rare repast. And thousjh he did not o;rud2:e his cures to centurions and rulers of the synagogues, they were usually the poor and despised who craved and got the largest share — the woman who had spent on physicians all that she had; the impotent man at Bethesda; the Samaritan lepers; and Bartimeus, the blind beggar. And thus would the kind Redeemer teach us, that if there are always to be the poor on earth, there will always be the poor man’s Friend in heaven. He would teach those sons of toil who are his true disciples, that in all their afflictions he is afflicted; that he knows their frame and feels their sorrow. And should these lines be read by one who is indigent in spite of all his industry, let him remember how it fared with the world’s best benefactor when here below — let him remember that the Saviour himself had once nowhere to lay his head, and asking for a cup of cold water, could scarcely obtain it. But now that he has all power in heaven and earth, that Saviour is as tender as ever; and to you, oh children of want and wo! he says, “Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

But I hasten to notice the greatest boon which the Saviour purchased. Returning to an instance already mentioned: had you seen the devoted missionaries pass into the leper hospital, along with admiration of their kindness, you would have felt a grievous pang at such an immolation. To think that men in the height of health should thus be lost to the land of the living — that good men and generous should be buried quick in such a ghastly grave — it would have oppressed your spirit, and you could only have given grudging approbation to such a self-devotement. But if, at the end of a certain term, they had appeared at the gate again, and along with them a goodly band of the poor victims restored to perfect soundness; if it turned out that they had not only been able to mitigate much suffering, but, in the case of every one who submitted to their treatment, had effected a perfect cure; and if, on examining the matter, the competent authorities declared that not only were these heroes of humanity themselves uninjured, but that those whom they brought with them were clean every whit, and might forthwith pass out into the world of the hale and the happy, you would be more than reconciled to the great price which purchased such a wondrous restoration. When Immanuel went into this world — when he first put human nature on, and in all his innocence identified himself with the fate of sinful men — we misht almost imagine the anxiety awakened by this ‘* mystery of godliness” in any celestial spirit who did not foreknow the issue.

But when that issue was developed — when, with a multitude which no man can number, rescued and restored, the mighty Redeemer reappeared at the gate of the lazaretto — when infinite purity, and eternal justice, and the holy law, recognised not only an immaculate Deliverer, but in all his ransomed company could detect no stain of sin, no spot of the old corruption — when it was pronounced that millions of plague-stricken beings were now so convalescent and so pure, that they might even pass the pearly gates and join the fellowship of angels, enough was seen to justify the self-denial, though that self-denial was the incarnation of the Son of God — enough to recompense the sacrifice, though that sacrifice was the death of a Divine Redeemer.

But this was the simple fact: An Angel of mercy, a Volunteer of pure compassion, the Saviour assumed our nature, and visited our world. The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us. And, coming into the world, he came into a moral lazaretto. Young and old, rich and poor, every soul was smitten with sin’s disgusting malady. None were holy; none sought after God. All were corrupt; all were, to God’s pure eye, offensive; and all were sickening; toward the second death. And by coming hither and taking on the human nature, the Son of God committed himself to our woful case. He virtually declared, that unless he brought a convalescent company with him, he would return to heaven no more. But the balsam which alone could heal this malady, was found to be very costly. It must contain, as an ingredient, something which could compensate for sin; something so compensating, that God would be a just God in forgiving the sinner. And nothing, it was found, could atone for guilt, save blood divine. But Jesus had counted the cost; and even this price he was prepared to pay. And he paid it; he offered himself as the propitiation for sin, and he was accepted. And though among those whom he sought to save were atheists and infidels, murderers and liars, blasphemers and sabbalh-breakers, thieves and robbers, drunkards and debauchees, that one offering was infinite, and more than sufficed. It finished transgression, and the Supreme Judge and Lawgiver proclaimed it to the world, “The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin.” And reappearing at the gates of Paradise with his ransomed, ‘’ the gates lifted up their heads;” and having long since returned from that errand of kindness, and rejoined the acclaiming celestials, already has the King of Glory been followed by many a trophy of his life-giving death and peace-speaking blood. Dear reader, will not you be another? Will you not intrust your soul to One so skilful to heal, and so mighty to save? Will you not begin to sing that new song even here, “Thou art worthy; for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood?” And will you not, from this time forward, give a higher place in your affections to that adorable Friend, “who, though he was rich, for your sakes became poor, that ye through his poverty might be rich?”