And next to this, brethren, ever pursue the work in a spirit of self-renunciation, in a spirit of dependence on the grace of God. Let the sense of your impotency ever remind you of the promises of Christ's sufficiency. While on the one hand, you count your labours as "dung and dross," on the other hand, "doubt not, but earnestly believe," that the strength of Christ shall be perfected in your weakness, "and that he will use even the foolish things of the world, and the weak things of the world, and things that are despised, and things that are not," to accomplish His own purposes, "that no flesh may glory in His presence." These two twin feelings ought ever to be alive in your breast, as you wend your way, on the hallowed morn, to that endearing scene, where you are to sit amidst your little flock. Self-renunciation and reliance on the promised grace of Christ. "Pray, therefore, without ceasing." He will love his class best that prays most for his class. Give them a daily place in your prayers. Go from the closet to the Sunday School, and if you have opportunity, from the Sunday School to the closet. Plead for the little ones, one by one. Bring each respective case before your Father, and strive in holy importunity, that the impenitent may be brought to repent, that the inquiring may be led on the path of peace, that the tempted may be relieved, and that the afflicted may be solaced. Work in the spirit of prayer, and you will work in the spirit of God. Christian brethren, let me further remind you, evermore to conduct the work with an humble expectation of success. Not that you are to presume upon success, or to be discouraged if it does not appear, or to suppose, that because there is no visible or immediate result, there shall be none. Nevertheless you ought to expect, because God has promised that "His Word shall not return into Him void." And unless the work is continued in a lowly spirit of cheerful hope and animation, "the hands will hang down," and the heart will wax faint. We are well assured that no Sunday School can go on with that life and energy, and determination, and sweet cheerfulness which ought to characterize the scene, except there be a spirit of lowly hope inspiring the teacher's heart. Let me remind you, finally, of the glorious consummation that awaits the faithful Sunday School teacher. If the minister of Christ, who has been faithful to his office, and "has not shunned to declare the whole counsel of God," shall in the great day, say to his beloved children in the faith, "ye are my joy and crown of rejoicing," in their measure shall the teachers in our Sunday Schools share in the same blessed joy. Who can contemplate the honor of being made the simple means in the hands of the spirit of God, to sow the seed of eternal life in one immortal soul, without overwhelming emo tions of awe, wonder, and admiration? Beloved brethren, such honor may be yours, through the grace of Christ. We have known many, very many, who have dated their first abiding impression to the simple teaching of the Sunday School class. You will, however, find even upon earth your sweet "recompense of reward." The unbought, unbribed affection of a child is a tribute not to be despised, and he that does not appreciate the free, fresh love of the simplest heart, wants the finest feelings of the renewed nature. It is sweet to be loved for the truth's sake, to be loved for our own sake in Christ, and the Sunday school teacher often has that rich reward. There is one deeply interesting illustration of this feature in Sunday School teaching that I cannot forbear mentioning to you in conclusion, for your encouragement. It occurred in connection with the first Sunday School, or at least the first village Sunday School in England. That school was formed by a master manufacturer in the neighborhood of the city of Gloucester. In that Sunday School there was a pious old man that gathered the hamlet's little group upon the Sabbath day and read to them, and spoke to them about Christ, and asked them what they knew of Jesus. Years and years rolled on; and the master of that manufactory, in the vicissitudes of trade, became a bankrupt and lost his all. In these circumstances he was one day passing through a street in a neighboring town, where he was accosted by a disbanded soldier, whose eyes glistened and whose face lighted up when he saw him. "How I rejoice to meet you again!" exclaimed the soldier. "I remember you not," the man, in sorrow said. "But," said he, "I well remember you, I was taught in your Sunday School at Cherrington, and all that I have learned about my Saviour, I learned there, and it has been my guide, my joy, and my delight." "Ah!" said the man in trouble, "things have changed with me since then, I was rich then, I am poor now, or perhaps I ought to say I was poor then, and I am rich now; I have lost my earthly all, but I trust I have found all in my Redeemer." "Say you so?" said the British christian soldier, "I have just received a pension for services done in the army; I can work for myself, you cannot ; you shall have my pension; I will pay it regularly while I liye,' and that poor soldier pressed upon the friend of his youth all that he had bled for, and toiled for in the service of his country. "Never before," said the gentleman, as he told the simple story, "had I so fully known the force of the words 'Cast thy bread upon the waters and thou shalt find it after many days.' How sweet the first fruits that a Sunday School teacher may gather on earth! And, oh! what will be the harvest that he may hope to reap in heaven! what the joy and ecstasy with which any, with whom he has been in his degree, "a fellowhelper" to their salvation, shall greet him and welcome him, when they appear in the temple "not made with hands" to keep that Sabbath, whose sun shall never go down! |