SUNDAY READING.

Taranaki Daily News, 23 June 1916, Page 6

SUNDAY READING.

"THERE IS SORROW ON THE SEA." Sermon preached' by REV. 'A. 11. COEVILE, jr.A., at St. Mary's Church, New Plymouth, on Sunday, June 11.

The Holy Spirit, the Lord and giver of life, the great unreiler of power in the lives of men, the enkindler of high nopes and noble thoughts,' the ins'pirer to mighty deeds and great adventures, is also, we must never forget, the Comforter. His mission is to bring peace to the troubled hearts of men, to still their doubts and calm their fears, and give strength and depth to tluT inner lives. That is the mission of the Holy Spirit—to stir up; yes, but also to subdue; to lead men out on a great adventure; yes, but also to bring them safely through to the haven where they woutd be. And this surely is in our thoughts when we pray to the third person of the Trinity—"o Holy Spirit, who doth brood Upon the waters dark and rude, And bid their angry tumult cea9e, And give for wild confusion, peace."

''There is sorrow on the sea"—now we ■English people may find it difficult to understand why there is, running all through the Bible, a kind of horror of the sea. Tor us it lias been, in spite of the sorrow inseparably connected with it, the path to greatness: The sea has moulded and shaped our history. It has kindled hi our race the spirit of adventure. It lias meant something to conquer, to overcome. The very Geographical position of England, hemmed in by the silver sea, has made ns familiar with its perils and possibilities. Our ancestors took great risks and faced many perils on the sea, and to-day we claim it our heritage—we claim that Britannia rules the waves. In spite of the sen, nay, because of the sea, we have stretched out our hands to the end of the earth, and established ourselves in many far countries, anil planted our Hag in many strange lands. The sea has been, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, the chief means of our development. But it has not been so with other nations. The two strongest antipathies of the Jews, amounting almost lo terror, were for the desert'ami the sea. They dwelt in a country with the wilderness on one side and the sea on the other. Their history had burnt into them a hatred of the pathless wilderness where a man could die of the awful agony of thirst; and the sea was as forbidding ns the wilderness. It was a barren coast without creeks or inlets or rivers or bays, and at no point looking out to sea could a glimpse of land be obtained which might lure men out to adventure. It was an empty sea, and to the Jews it was the end. It spoke to them not of progress and adventure, but of duality. It is natural, then, that the psalmist, when describing men lost and despairing, rescued from the jaws of death, should refer first to those who wandered in the wilderness out of the way and found no city, no dwelling-place of men in which to take refuge, and then should refer to those who go down to the sea in ships, and should describe the mel'.ing away of the soul, the crumpling up of the courage when the stormy wind arose. It is natural too that here the prophet Jeremiah, when speaking of Cod's judsment upon the city of Damascus, should liken it to the sorrow of tiie sea, when wave, after wave breaks with irresistible force upon an already doomed ship. Why, even to the last record of the Bible this horror of the sea remains, for to St. John in the Revelation one of the consolations of Heaven is that '•the: l e shall be no more sea." We ourselves may not think of it in 'that way. We may even, as we remember the days of the Spanish Armada and of the menace of Napoleon—aye, and of these present days of trouble—look upon the sea as our great protector, but we can understand that to some it must always seem terrible and forbidding, nursing' a dark threat in its heart even when it turns on them a smiling face. • But even for our nation there is sorrow on the sea. We know it; it has been brought home to us over and over again. If we had realised the

DEPTH AND PATHOS OF THAT SORROW

before this great world war began, assuredly we do to-day. They who go down to the sea in ships have been in our thoughts no less than the men who have met the enemy on land. Hundreds of lives have been sacrificed on"the sea; great deeds have been done there worthy oi the old sea traditions of oni race. Sir Richard Grcnville; standing on the deck or the Revenge, wounded to death, but still unbeaten, while the Spanish ships "lay round him in a ring," more than nOO years ago, and Captain Loxlev alone on tlie bridge of the Formidable and with his dog by his side, signalling to his would-be rescuers to keep away lest they too be 'ost—these are typical figures of the heroes of the sea. ' And how many acts of individual heroism and self-saerilice have been performed there of which we shall never know until the sea gives up its secret's! Within the past few days we have been, thrilled bv messages from the other side of the world messages ot a great battle fought on the sea, messages that only dimly convey to ns an idea of its horror and its splendor, the vision of "claimm" lights and sinking ships and praying hands" and all the wild confusion ol those awful hours. Can we see, too, that over it al! broods the Holy Spirit or Cod whose mission is to bring peace again upon the earth and into the hearts of men, and that comfort which means strength and confidence in Cod and in His never-failing providence? My friends, the picture is "awful and daunting to the soul without that conception. Without faith in tiie Comforter, the subdiicr of passions, the evolver of order out of chaos and peace out of confusion and good out of evil, we might well be shaken to the very depths of our faith. We must praj to Him that He will make the mystery of Cod's workin" clearer to the eyes of our understanding His way is in the sea and His paths in the great waters, and His baud is over all His creatures.

And at Home in England, how many hearts have gone out upon the sea today, out upon those waters which have closed, over the bodies of brave men—aye, (town into the depths where they lie? The hearts of fathers and mothers wives and children, hearts heavy with' the sorrow of the sea. It may have been a famous victory, but, like all famous victories, it has brought sufferim' and anguish to those who'have had no part in the light; whose service is to stand and wait. There is sorrow on the sea to-day. but where there is sorrow there is the Holy Ghgst. the Comforter, THE PASSING OF KITCHENER. And since the news of the great battle came to us, has not the heart of We T"iiole nation been smitten ohm

more by the sorrow of the sea 1 We have lost a great man from the councils of the nation, a strong man who in these doubtful days of ups and downs, of hopes and fears, of successes and disappointments, we could little afford to lose. Jfany have spoken of his wonderful genius for organisation. Because of that alone we shall feel his loss. But perhaps more than that, we shall feel the loss of his inlluonoe, which had a constant steadying; and reassuring effect upon the minds of men. And this steadying influence is ust what we needed and shall need increasingly as the days go on. A strong, quiet, imperturbable man who goes his way and dopa his duty and carries on his work caring little for criticism is an asset to any nation. We recognise the dill'erence between Kitchener of Khartoum and the average political opportunist always trimming his sails to catch the popular breeze. Surely there is a sense in which it is true to say that Kitchener won the confidence of the democracy because he was not a democrat. ' The people believed in him because he didn't aare what the people thought of him. And yet there is another sense in which he was a great democrat. For if he found a man idle or useless he gave him short shrift, whether that man was the son of a duke or a coalheaver, while the one passport to his favor was not influence, but energy and efficiency. The nation needs more of those sort of leaders to-day. But while we mourn his loss we may surely think ,of him as we do of other great Knglishmen whose names are writ large in the pages of history, of Wellington and Xelson, of Clive and Hastings, of lihodes and Roberts. "They pass, but do not die." Their spirits are with us today and will mare!i with us to victor/. The body of this great man lies buried in a mighty sepulchre. A tomb in Westminster Abbey could not confer more honor on his remains. But tlie man, whose great work for the nation lure on earth is over, still lives. That strong personality endures for ever. Surely his heart is still with England, as his soul is now with (!od. And so once more the Holy Spirit brings lis comfort and strength and inspiration from the sorrow of the sea. And, my friends, life here on earth lias often boon compared to the sea; for <omo it is dazzliugly beautiful and alluring—they love to spread their sails to the light favoring breeze and sweep on peacefully towards the sunset; for others it is bracing and inspires to big risks and great adventures, and, like the mariners of old who ventured out into unknown oceans in tiny little ships, there are men and women who have made of life a big thing, in spite of the handicaps of poor circumstances, or weak bodies, or a very limited sphere of action, they have made of life a big thins by tlie unroni|iierable power of soul, meeting wild storms and thick mists and sweeping hurricanes and al> the perils of sea-life with a kind of exultation. To them the Holy Spirit has been indeed the Lord and giver of life, He has been the [nspirer "rather than the Comforter. Such people know something of what is called the romance of the sea. They have tasted tlie fullness of life. And then there are others to iv ho m

LIFE IS FI'LL OF TERROR OR SORROW OR LOSS.

They shrink from it as from a bunion too heavy to be borne; the waters of life are dark and troubled, and they cannot feel the spirit of (.'rid moving upon them. Life is a grey tossing sea, cruel and treacherous and greedy, and the haven is far-off, hidden in the mists, and they are altogether afraid. But most of us, f suppose, take life in very much the same way as a sailor takes the sea. as a matter of course. He is always on his guard, for he knows that ho cannot trust the sea. He knows that its sleepy, laughing eyes can glare out fiercely like a wild beast's, and its merry lips part to show its hungry white teeth. It can be gentle as a child and cruel as the "grave. Tic cannot commit himself to it. Nor do we commit ourselves to life here on earth. Life has, as we know, beautiful moments and also stormy moments, days of calm and quiet and days of fierce unrest, and for all of us there is suffering; for' all of us there is "sorrow on the sea." We dare not, then, commit ourselves utterly to this life; we dare not take our voyage alone. We may he experienced or skilful navigators, we may he confident of our .ability to steer our course over life's ocean without fear of shipwreck, and yet, believe me, we cannot make our voyagu without the Spirit of' (iod moving upon the face of the waters; we cannot live safely, strongly, progressively without [lis abiding presence in our lives, and every day of our lives we may well echo the simple, pathetic prayer that the Rreton fishermen make before they launch their boats from the shore: "0 Lord, protect us, for the sea is very large, and our boat is verv small."

And, my friends, the Holy Spirit of God Who broods upon the dark troubled waters of life teaches us, as we take our voyage, the great practical lesson of the sea—the lesson of sympathy and love, poured out in help to others. There is a bond that unites all men that go down to the sea in ships—it is the bond of mutual help. Xo signal of distress may be neglected, no imploring message disregarded, no lonely shipwrecked sailor abandoned. Tt is the honor of the sea that, help must always, be given, promptly, eagerly, fearlessly Shall not the Holy Spirit teach us that lesson through the sorrow and peril of our own lives? We do feel the sorrow of the sea, the sadness of life. We see the turmoil and dispeace whenevei we look closely upon the very faces of men; we hear, as it were, the sound of the unrest of the waves as they break upon the shore. The pathos of life should indeed stir our pity, and our pity should bring forth the desire to help, aiid when we have the desire, the Holy Spirit will give us the power. You remember Ariel's song in ''The Tempest" after the storm had spent itself: "Come unto these yellow sands

And then take hands." Let us all "take hands," we at lenst who are membei's of the Church, who believe in the example of our Master brought home to us by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Let us join together in the work of help and in the rescue of those who are flying signnls of distress, who are sailing out of their course in deep and troubled waters, or who are drifting fast towards the rocks. As we join to-night in the hymn for those in peril on the sea—while we remember, indeed, our brethren who have so gallantly defended the shores of our native land, and are still jeopardising their lives in that great task—let us not forget those who are in peril on life's rough sea, the weak and sorrowful, the tempted and the fallen, those who have gone astray, those who have never known the Eternal Father, those who have. fwjßottefl His Holy Spirit, in