III.

LIGHT, FELLOWSHIP, AND PURITY.

But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanseth us from all sin.-1 John i. 7 (Revised Version).

MAN was born for the light, and must have a bright atmosphere in order to come to his best. There are some species of life that belong to the gloom and grow rank in the darkness; they seem to revel in a black, cheerless atmosphere; but man does not belong to that grade of life. Man is of so high an order of being that his soul faints within him in the darkness. We are the children of God, and in order to develop our true life we must walk daily in the light of God's countenance.

A great deal depends upon the atmosphere in which one lives. A manufacturer of carmine, who was aware of the superiority of the French color, went to Lyons and bargained with the most celebrated manufacturer in that city for the acquisition of his secret, for which he was to pay five thousand dollars. He was shown all the process, and saw a beautiful color produced; but he found not the least difference in the French mode of fabrication

and that which had been constantly adopted by himself. He appealed to his instructor, and insisted that he must have concealed something. The man assured him that he had not, and invited him to see the process a second time. He minutely examined the water and the materials, which were in every respect similar to his own; and then, very much surprised, said, "I have lost my labor and my money, for the air of England does not permit us to make good carmine." "Stay," said the Frenchman, "don't deceive yourself. What kind of weather is it now?" "A bright, sunny day," replied the Englishman. "And such are the days," said the Frenchman, "on which I make my color. Were I to attempt to manufacture it on a dark, cloudy day, my results would be the same as yours. Let me advise you always to make carmine on bright, sunny days."

This story of the carmine manufacturers strikingly illustrates the difference between a life, however moral and upright it may be, which owes its morality purely to hereditary tendencies or the restraining influences of public sentiment a life which is manufactured, so to speak, in the cloudy, gloomy atmosphere of human selfishness, without any reference to God, from no love or gratitude to him and the same morality which is woven into life in the light of God's countenance, where deeds of uprightness are performed in an atmosphere of prayer and thanksgiving and loving self-sacrifice.

The first brings no sense of joy, and is colored with none of the romance of the immortal life. That which gives the Christian life its glow of heavenly color is the bright and glorious atmosphere in which it is produced. The radiant beams of the Sun of Righteousness fall upon it; the light of immortality floods it; and the hope of heaven, the prospect of eternal reunion with loved ones, the promise of likeness to Christ, animate the Christian character with divine energies, and give a color to the moral character of the Christian that surpasses anything that can be produced in a merely worldly atmosphere, however cultured or refined it may be.

The man who lives in the bright atmosphere of God's presence can not walk in darkness. If we turn our faces away from God, then every step brings us toward the deep darkness. No doubt some who hear me are ready to say with Tennyson's Rizpah: "The night has crept into my heart and begun to darken mine eyes." If you get night into your heart, you are certain to get darkness for your eyes. But there is no night for the heart that suns itself in the light of the bright heart of Him who is light, and in whom there is no darkness at all. That is a remarkable expression in Paul's letter to the Ephesians in which he uses the phrase, "Having the eyes of your heart enlightened." Blindness in the physical eyes is sad enough, but it is a small matter compared with

blindness in the eyes of the heart. If the heart does not see God, it is a lost heart, a dead heart, a despairing heart. To such a heart God will seem vague and unreal or cruel. To a blind heart the Bible seems dull and beyond understanding. But when the eyes of the heart are opened they behold God's beauty, the loveliness of his character, the brooding tenderness of his patient and persistent love seeking after lost souls, and the indescribable mercy which provided redemption for ruined men. I would to God that every blind eye of the heart might be opened here to-night, so that you should behold with clearness the repulsive character of sin, and the beauty and loveliness of God's mercy in Jesus Christ!

We have suggested in our text a thought of fellowship-a fellowship both human and divine. It is promised that if we walk in this bright atmosphere which radiates from the heart of God we shall have fellowship one with another. That is, we shall see heart to heart in a sweet and precious brotherhood; we shall be in close touch with all others who walk in this same light of God, and whose hearts, like our own, are in harmony with the bright heart of the universe. It is not our outward fellowships, but our inward spiritual fellowships, which will dictate our eternal destiny. You remember the story of Dives and Lazarus which was told by our Lord and recorded by St. Luke. While here in this world, Dives was sur

rounded by the most luxurious circumstances, and was no doubt the object of the jealousy and envy of a great many people. He dressed in apparel fit for a king, and dined on the most sumptuous viands that money could procure. But Dives, instead of using his wealth and his great opportunities to bless the world, allowed the luxury in which he lived to narrow and harden his heart, and to make him selfish and mean in his attitude toward others. To his eye his poorer brothers were fit only to be companions for dogs, and he thought he did well to permit the crumbs from his table to be flung to them with contempt. The fellowships of his soul were hard, unfeeling spirits like his own. But near by was another man named Lazarus. He lived at the other extreme of worldly condition. He was poor, he was a cripple, he was covered with loathsome sores, and his outward fellowships were confined to the street dogs; and yet, despite all these cruel outward conditions, the man by some marvelous spiritual alchemy retained his selfrespect, and lived in heart-fellowship with that which is highest and holiest. Dives, in the midst of all that was outwardly beautiful and refined and luxurious, developed that which was mean and low and ugly and devilish in his nature; while Lazarus, surrounded by all that was ugly and impoverished and repulsive, developed within himself a rare and beautiful spiritual nature. So when the curtains of earth are drawn aside and the earthly