SUNDAY READING.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 3918, 9 February 1884, Page 6 (Supplement)

SUNDAY READING.

SERMON BY THE REV. FATHER CASSIDY. "Lord save us, we perish."—Math. viii.. As we journey on through life, as we hurry on to Eternity, hemmed in on every eido by tho light and shade of every-day experience, how many scenes of sorrow and disappointment aro we not often forced to witness or endure. Lifo seems a perpetual misfortune, and the world the great Altar where is from day to day offered up that nameless sacrifice whoso fire burns in every human breast, and whose ashes are scattered in every nook and corner round this beautiful and.fruitful earth. Man is a martyr ; trouble is the lot of all. From fche cradle fco tho. grave man is a martyr all along—ho -is a martyr in his intellect, a martyr in his will, a martyr in his affections. TJis intellect builds up a long roll of ennobling principles, a world of intellectual thought, that a little more study or reflection will ruin and destroy ; his will lays down plan 3 for his future glory and advancement, and time overthrows them one by one ; his heart gathers round him a circle of friends, but they are soon separated from him,by death or by tho world. Man's wishes aro. never fully satisfied, and thus he is or thinks himself the child of misfortunes, great or small, imaginary or real, as they may he. But his misfortunes are not. all imaginary; they are, often alas, too real. Ifc is surely a great misfortune to lose one's home, and be flung out on a friendless world from tho old nestling place where our forefathers lived, loved, died, and went to Heaven ; it. is a misfortune to bo driven by famine and persecution from one's native land, whore our eyes first, saw the light of Heaven, where our shildbood laughed or wept itself to sleep ; ifc is a great misfortune to lose the property ,-we have earned by hard and earnest toil, to lose the friends we so dearly love, to never hear their voices, or to batho again our soul in the thrilling glow of their love-lit eyes ; it is a misfortune fco lose our hearing, to hear no more the songs of the birds, the passing breath of summer sighing through tho trees, fco liqar no more tho deep breathings of the ocean's prayer, tho strains of gentle music, or the sound of fche human roico ; it is a grout misfortune to lose our sight, to be no longer able to look up at the firmament of Heaven, to count the stars as they sparkle . far away, to see no. more tho sun, the moon, fche trees,: tho (lowers, tho mountains, stern and lofty, to sco , no more the: ocean pulsing tranquilly like the bosom of a sleeping child or lashed to fury by tho tempest and the storm, to sco no more tho imago of God shining from tho human face, or the liehfc of Heaven beaming from tho human eye. Those arc very great misfortunes, but greater than these, than all, is the terrible misfortune of living tho drunkard's life, of dying the drunkard's death. The habitual drunkard is the public enemy of man; hois tho public enemy of God. And who is God ? He is the being of beings, the self-existing, self-subsisfcing, . selfsufficing one who is. He is the being who is supreme as to the existing, supremo as to fche possible, supremo as to the desirable, since He alono can satisfy all tho longings of tho poet's heart. He is so vast, so great, so limifcleis, that He is beyond all power of comprehension, beyond all flight, of tho imagination, beyond every creation of a created intellect. Ho is not visible to the natural eye, but he • is visible to the supernatural eyes of reason and faith—these eyes tbafc catch up she light of Heaven, and' with,it load us into a world of limitless perfection far, far beyond those stars, those' planets, that dash on, on through endless space. . Yes, reason and faith carry us far away from this piece of clay, this boyislr world of ours, into a region of true vastness and sublimity, and show us there, in the solemn silence of Eternal Day, the great Eternal God., But it, is sad "to think that 'men close .their eyes and refuse fco acknowledge the existence of. God ■ simply because they wish to ,do. so. They will not recogm'so the imago of His wisdom and his power stamped On everything around them. They will not read His handwriting, written in the trees, fche flowers, the birds, the ocean, the stars of Heaven, or the worms of earth. 'J hoy will not feel the throbbing of the somethin" great unknown that enlivens everything around them. They.will not listen to that secret voice thai is over talking in their breast, 'i hey soe the sky hanging over (heir »,,.,.,]. nnrl llm« d-n-e not ,y>r» '!.* -',' '

another heaven higher and more beautiful still. They And the seasons come and go like tho beating of the clock, and they cannot persuade themselves that there must exist a great engineer who keeps that wonderful clock of Creation ever regulated and ever intimo. They believe in nothing but thecarth beneath their feet, because they must bury there their dead, and because their natural eyes do not allow them to go farther than tins visible world they unreasonably deny the existence of another vaster and more beautiful still. And thus they live, without faith, without any knowledge of right of wrong, living without God, dying without Him, living without any notion of virtue or vice, and building all their future on a miserable perhaps, hazarding their Eternity on an hypothesis as foolish as it i 3 vain. But, everything tells us there is a God. /iiid that God,is infinite, infinite in His understanding, infinite in His will, infinite in His love. And everything seems to tell us that man is a child of God. But who is man ? Is he a piece of clay ? 16 he snly vitalized dust ? Are we to go to tho grave, dig up the smouldering bone 3, and there exclaim with sorrow, " Behold tho man." ISo, wo aro to mount up to tho Throne of God, up to that eternal home of glory, and thero behold tho man in all tho splendour of his understanding, in all the perfection of his will, iv all the glory of his love. There is man to be studied, and wo will find him there .the imago of God. Yes, man is tho image of God he is the next greatest being to God, so great that God could not have created anything more beautiful or greater than man. Man is then the greatest of all beings, the most perfect of all, because ho is the imago of God. And he is the image of God because ho can think like God, lie can will like God, he can love like God. Man is the shadow of tho Blessed Trinity—in his intellect he resembles the Eternal Father, in his will the Son, in his lovo the Holy Ghost. Such is man. He is the image of God. Now. sin of every description darkens this image, destroys the resemblance that should exist, between the human soul and God, and the greater the sin is the more it tends to weaken, to sully, or destroy this .resemblance. And that is why tho sin of drunkenness is the greatest; of all sins in a certain sense, because it. destroys completely for the time being that image of God that should fill tho human soul ; ifc leaves there all a ruin, all a wreck, robbing ifc of its understanding, robbing it of its will, robbing it of its love. A man may be n thief; he has, however, his jense*;' ho is master of his will,and understanding. A man may "take another's' life in a moment of frenzy or revenge, still his reason is unclouded, his heart may molt with sorrow or regret. ; But tho drunkard is the most degraded of all sinners, for he is deprived of understanding, that first shadow of God's image ; he is deprived of will, he is deprived of the love of God and man. The other dinners havo their will, their understanding, and have the sympathy or affection of some one, no matter how great their .crimes may bo ; bub tho drunkard has no understanding, no will, no love. Surely God could not love that lump of palpitating frenzied flesh, that has destroyed the noblest, structure of His Omnipotence. Surely his friends, his country, love no more that wretch, who is no longer a man. Ho is no longer a man, since he has not tho will of a man, ho bus not tho understanding of a man, ho has not the affection of a man. Is that miserable, soulless, friendless, heartless, meaningless mass of misfortune and crime a man ? Look at him as he reojs drunk along the street, or roars blaspheming at the public-houso Where is his understanding ? he cannot think a single thought. Where is his will ? his" will is gone. Where is his affection ? surely such a heavenly spark could never live in that polluted heart, since ho' is then deprived of understanding, since he is deprived of will, since he is beyond every limit and power of love. Is he beyond the limit and power, of mercy too ? There seems, as it were, no mercy iv Heaven, no mercy on oarfch, for the habitual drunkard. But God surely must have mercy for him, since mercy is the brightest attribute of God. Look up at that oross on Calvary—what uieroy, what love, what compassion is not there bursting away over creation with terrific power; look at thoso oyos flashing a fire of mercy bofore they close in death ; listen to that voice that is pouring forth its last cry for mercy for all men. No, for the drunkard who knowingly and deliberately drinks himself to death and dies in that state there is no mercy in Heaven, for lie dies the enemy of God. There is no mercy on earth, for he dies tho enemy of man. Tho habitual drunkard is a suicide and murderer, and worse than either. The murderer takes away but the life of the body, but; the drunkard takes away that of the soul and body together. U e ruins his own soul and body, and very often tho souls and lives of his wife, his children, or his friends, Ho is then a murderer of tho most wretched type. Tho murderer takes away life in a moment of frenzy or revenge ; it is the work of a, few moments, and all is over. But the drunkard is taking tho life of the soul and body, day by day, for weeks, months, and years. Murder cries aloud fco Heaven for vengeance because it is a great and terrible crime. There lies fche lifeless body, thero aro fche gaping wounds, hear fche cry for mercy that reaches the murderer's ears in vain. But louder than that cry from tho prostrate form of the dying victim comes that cry for mercy from tho broken-hearted wife, from the famishing children, from the wretched home of th c drunkard. But why call it a, home, and why show up to human compassion that dungeon, of misery and sorrow? Why show up that form of blighted beauty, the prematuro old age, the sleepless eyes, tho broken heart ? Oh, God, what 11 homo—the door opens on a latch, and remains quietly where ifc is put, for it has neither hinge, lock, nor key very often. Look at that frightened face that meets us as we enter —see it is all marked, ifc is disfigured ; sco fche dark ring round thoso dim misty eyes, once so bright; it, is a present from hor husband on Saturday night. Poor thing —it is her only ornamenfc —sho sold her wedding ring long ago to buy some bread. Look at the children. 'I hero is Harry ; he has no trousers on, but he is rigged out in an old coat of his father's that covers him all over, and would another along with him ; ho is crying, poor boy ; ho wants something to eat. Sick of heart wo turn away. Poor children, poor brokenhearted woman, let us pass on to sco where your father and your husband is. Look at him there, ho is dead by the road-side, and every spark of beauty and humanity seems trampled out of him for ever. He is dead, and be. is a reproach to men; they hurry him into the grave, they heap over him the clay to hide him for ever from the scorn of men, who will recall his life and his death with foar. But ho died as he lived, and he is dead for over. Let; us pass on. What is this tho waves have washed up qn the ocean beach ? It is the body of one we may have known in younger and happier days. Let us see what brought her here. . She was sprung from a good family, she was baptized, she was educated, she received the God of Heaven in her frpsh young innocent heart, then as beautiful as the angels that surround His throne, but the angels weep far up in Heaven to-night for her ruin and loss. How did she come to this ? Her father or mother was a drunkard, and so she was allowed to do as sho pleased. She lived with them, and then bad example scandalized her, so she frequented bad company, she kept away from - church, she read bad books, .she took, to gaiety and light society, went to dances, she wont and went again, and in an evil hour, in evil company, she fell, and to drown her sorrow and to nerve her for misfortune she took to drink. Then sin and drink, drink and sin again,, living a hell on earth to face one in eternity. And after yoars of ceaseless suffering and sorrow, when all around was dark and gloomy, when tho people had retired to rest, tho- demon spoke to her and told her to quit this world./Sh ; e obeyed. Then a plunge, a shriek, an outburst of despair or blasphemy, and all was over, and the morning sun shone over a lifeless form on the ocean beuch. Such is , the drunkard's life, such is 'the drunkard's .death.' Now, I. conjure you by tho broken heart upon the cross ';* I conjure' you by those noble gifts • of understanding, will, and love you havo received from God; I conjure you by the broken-hearted wives, the deserted homes, , the starring children throughout tho world ; I. con j uro you by that dying shriek of the dying drunkard to never let that image of God bo blotted out of your souls by intemperance, bufc to carry that imago radiant on through the buttle of life to the Thrnno of God in Uearpn, I