The Imitation of Christ

heart which beats beneath is impatient of everything external, in its aspirations to acquaint itself with God and be at peace. Exemplary ecclesiastic as no doubt the writer was, he ignores all outward ceremonies, save frequent Communions, in following the longings and feelings of his heart. He works out his own salvation with fear and trembling, knowing his own frailty, his own worthlessness, and need of divine grace. His confession is made to his own soul, and he asks for no earthly mediator to unite him to his Lord. As his name indicates that he was of the same race as Luther, so does his book anticipate the dawnings of the great Reformer’s theology. His soul lives in a solitude, sometimes fearing, but oftener hoping, beneath the eye of God. “He feels he was not made to die,” because he has found God to be the source and the end of his being. Thought, feeling, will, affection⁠—all move round Him.

Milman stands, as far as I know, alone in the unfavourable judgment which he has formed upon this book. After describing it as the last effort of Latin Christianity, he pronounces it to be absolutely selfish in its aim. “Its sole, single, exclusive object, is the purification, the elevation of the individual soul, of the man absolutely isolated from his kind, of the man dwelling alone in the solitude, in the hermitage of his own thoughts; with no fears or hopes, no sympathies of our common nature; he has absolutely withdrawn and secluded himself not only from the cares, the sins, the trials, but from the duties, the connections, the moral and religious fate of the world.” The title itself is a “glaring misnomer.” “That which distinguishes Christ, that which distinguishes Christ’s Apostles, that which distinguishes Christ’s religion⁠—the Love of Man⁠—is entirely and absolutely left out. Had this been the whole of Christianity, our Lord Himself (with reverence be it said) had lived, like an Essene, working out or displaying His own sinless perfection by the Dead Sea; neither on the Mount, nor in the Temple, nor even on the Cross.⁠ ⁠…”

“Christianity had been without any exquisite precept for the purity, the happiness of social or domestic life; without self-sacrifice for the good of others; without the higher Christian patriotism, devotion or evangelic principles to the public weal; without even the devotion of the missionary for the dissemination of Gospel truth; without the humbler and gentler daily self-sacrifice for relatives, for the wife, the parent, the child. Christianity had never soared to be the civiliser of the world. ‘Let the world perish, so the single soul can escape on its solitary plank from the general wreck,’ such had been its final axiom. The Imitation of Christ begins in self⁠—terminates in self. The simple exemplary sentence, ‘He went about doing good,’ is wanting in the monastic gospel of this pious zealot. Of feeding the hungry, of clothing the naked, of visiting the prisoner, even of preaching, there is profound, total silence.”

No doubt this omission of the social aspect of Christianity is a characteristic of the book. But it does not prelude that aspect, and is not incompatible with it. There is nothing to indicate that the writer was neglectful of the active duties of his profession, and if we assume that he devoted himself to the works of mercy which he was called upon by his vows to do, those who have to work hardest by sickbeds and in haunts of sin will best appreciate how great was his need of the retired and silent hours of which this book bears witness. In the history of that Divine Life to which the Dean makes reference, we are told that in the midst of His toils He went aside into a mountain and continued all night in prayer unto God. The life of activity was sustained and nourished by the life of inner communion. Therefore it is useless to condemn the book before us on the ground that it is contemplative and unpractical. The love with which it is still regarded is its best defence. “Securus judicat orbis terrarum.” I could name more than one contemporary to whom I have known it to be dear. It was one of the favourite books of the unselfish, hardworking, all-sympathising, Frederick Maurice, and the references to it by some of the most powerful of living secular writers show how strong a hold it has upon their affections.

That other aspect of Christianity is of course equally true which bids us remember that we are members of a family, Englishmen, brethren. It is the aspect upon which the popular theology of our day almost exclusively dwells. And doubtless this belief is the only effective instrument which we shall find to counteract the social evils that afflict us. But if we would not be conquered by the world that we are seeking to conquer, we must study daily the Conqueror in His meekness, His perfectness and beauty, His world-embracing redemption, His sacramental grace, His twofold nature. And in the hope that this copy may help some Christian brother thus to find him, I now put from me this labour of love.

The Imitation of Christ

Book I

Admonitions Profitable for the Spiritual Life

I

Of the imitation of Christ, and of contempt of the world and all its vanities.

“He that followeth me shall not walk in darkness,”4 saith the Lord. These are the words of Christ; and they teach us how far we must imitate His life and character, if we seek true illumination, and deliverance from all blindness of heart. Let it be our most earnest study, therefore, to dwell upon the life of Jesus Christ.

His teaching surpasseth all teaching of holy men, and such as have His Spirit find therein “the hidden manna.”5 But there are many who, though they frequently hear the Gospel, yet feel but little