Unspoken Sermons

in him is the divine. Neither can any other punishment than the sinner’s being made to see the enormity of his injury, give satisfaction to the injured. While the wronger will admit no wrong, while he mocks at the idea of amends, or while, admitting the wrong, he rejoices in having done it, no suffering could satisfy revenge, far less justice. Both would continually know themselves foiled. Therefore, while a satisfied justice is an unavoidable eternal event, a satisfied revenge is an eternal impossibility. For the moment that the sole adequate punishment, a vision of himself, begins to take true effect upon the sinner, that moment the sinner has begun to grow a righteous man, and the brother human whom he has offended has no choice, has nothing left him but to take the offender to his bosom⁠—the more tenderly that his brother is a repentant brother, that he was dead and is alive again, that he was lost and is found. Behold the meeting of the divine extremes⁠—the extreme of punishment, the embrace of heaven! They run together; “the wheel is come full circle.” For, I venture to think, there can be no such agony for created soul, as to see itself vile⁠—vile by its own action and choice. Also I venture to think there can be no delight for created soul⁠—short, that is, of being one with the Father⁠—so deep as that of seeing the heaven of forgiveness open, and disclose the shining stair that leads to its own natural home, where the eternal father has been all the time awaiting this return of his child.

So, friends, how ever indignant we may be, however intensely and however justly we may feel our wrongs, there is no revenge possible for us in the universe of the Father. I may say to myself with heartiest vengeance, “I should just like to let that man see what a wretch he is⁠—what all honest men at this moment think of him!” but, the moment come, the man will loathe himself tenfold more than any other man could, and that moment my heart will bury his sin. Its own ocean of pity will rush from the divine depths of its God-origin to overwhelm it. Let us try to forethink, to antedate our forgiveness. Dares any man suppose that Jesus would have him hate the traitor through whom he came to the cross? Has he been pleased through all these ages with the manner in which those calling themselves by his name have treated, and are still treating his nation? We have not yet sounded the depths of forgiveness that are and will be required of such as would be his disciples!

Our friends will know us then: for their joy, will it be, or their sorrow? Will their hearts sink within them when they look on the real likeness of us? Or will they rejoice to find that we were not so much to be blamed as they thought, in this thing or that which gave them trouble?

Let us remember, however, that not evil only will be unveiled; that many a masking misconception will uncover a face radiant with the loveliness of the truth. And whatever disappointments may fall, there is consolation for every true heart in the one sufficing joy⁠—that it stands on the border of the kingdom, about to enter into ever fuller, ever-growing possession of the inheritance of the saints in light.

The Inheritance

Giving thanks unto the Father, which hath made us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light.

Ep. to the Colossians 1:12

To have a share in any earthly inheritance, is to diminish the share of the other inheritors. In the inheritance of the saints, that which each has, goes to increase the possession of the rest. Hear what Dante puts in the mouth of his guide, as they pass through Purgatory:⁠—

Perchè s’appuntano i vostri desiri
Dove per compagnia parte si scema,
Invidia muove il mantaco a’ sospiri.
Ma se l’amor della spera suprema
Torcesse ’n suso ’l desiderio vostro,
Non vi sarebbe al petto quella tema;
Che per quanto si dice più li nostro,
Tanto possiede più di ben ciascuno,
E più di caritade arde in quel chiostro.

Because you point and fix your longing eyes
On things where sharing lessens every share,
The human bellows heave with envious sighs.
But if the loftiest love that dwelleth there
Up to the heaven of heavens your longing turn,
Then from your heart will pass this fearing care:
The oftener there the word our they discern,
The more of good doth everyone possess,
The more of love doth in that cloister burn.

Dante desires to know how it can be that a distributed good should make the receivers the richer the more of them there are; and Virgil answers⁠—

Perocchè tu rificchi
La mente pure alle cose terrene,
Di vera luce tenebre dispicchi.
Quello ’nfinito ed ineffabil bene,
Che lassù è, cosi corre ad amore,
Com’ a lucido corpo raggio viene.
Tanto si dà, quanto trova d’ ardore:
Si che quantunque carità si stende,
Cresce sovr’ essa l’ eterno valore.
E quanta gente più lassù s’ intende,
Più v’ e da bene amare, e più vi s’ ama,
E come specchio, l’ uno all’ altro rende.

Because thy mind doth stick
To earthly things, and on them only brood,
From the true light thou dost but darkness pick.
That same ineffable and infinite Good,
Which dwells up there, to Love doth run as fleet
As sunrays to bright things, for sisterhood.
It gives itself proportionate to the heat:
So that, wherever Love doth spread its reign,
The growing wealth of God makes that its seat.
And the more people that up thither strain,
The more there are to love, the more they love,
And like a mirror each doth give and gain.

In this inheritance then a man may desire and endeavour to obtain his share without selfish prejudice to others; nay, to fail of our share in