The Frailty of Man.

A Sermon for the New Year.

BY THE EDITOR.

Isaiah xl. 6 to 8-"The voice said, Cry. And he said, Wh

All flesh The grass

shall I cry is grass, and all the goodliness thereof as the flower of. the field. withereth, the flower fadeth, but the word of our God shall stand for ever."

HERE is a tinge of sadness in these words which may seem scarcely in accord with the feelings we generally manifest at the opening of a new year. But to me they seem eminently suitable for our consideration at such a season. For there can be nothing more solemn than the commencement of another portion of the time allotted to our existence on earth. We are about to enter upon a fresh probation, to undertake new responsibilities, to receive additional mercies, and-oh! fearful thought-to commit fresh sins. We have all the experience of the past to increase our danger, and to add to our guilt; we have all the blessings of our earlier experience to add to our debt to Almighty God. And we have before us a renewed opportunity of leading fresh lives and commencing a new course of habits, of leaving the past behind, and entering upon a different path. For every new year is like a fresh turning. Especial inducements seem to be held out to us to repent, to forsake the world, and to love our Saviour with greater fervour and more earnest purpose of heart. Alas! to how many will the opportunities be lost! How many will incur additional condemnation in accordance with their additional privileges, and when the new year becomes the old year, and its precious moments shall have passed away, they will find themselves still further from the kingdom of God, and still more hardened in the ways of sin.

Hence, it is peculiarly appropriate to consider such a statement as that in our text, because it reminds us that, although God, in His infinite mercy and goodness, has been pleased to permit us to enter upon a new year, we must not presume upon that goodness, for we carry our frailty with us into the new year, and know not what a day may bring forth. “Let not him that putteth on his armour boast as him that putteth it off.” "And the voice said, Cry, all flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof as the flower of the field."

In the words before us, we have three or four suggested topics for consideration; let us endeavour to profit by dwelling upon them. We have—

I.-A STRIKING ASSERTION-"All flesh is grass," etc. The allusion is here made to the body of man. "All flesh is grass." Not the spirit. That is immortal, and will only begin to enter upon its real existence when the flesh has come to corruption. But when we speak of the flesh as the body of man, we have other natural consequences implied in the expression. For "the flesh" includes the natural life, with its enjoyments, its privileges, its duties, and its responsibilities. And all these are involved in the same idea. Hence we may say, in other words, that our temporal existence, our opportunities, are as grass, and that our condition, whether of weal or woe, poverty or riches, misery or enjoyment, is as the flower of the field. "The grass withereth and the flower fadeth."

The image is a striking one, and is applicable in more ways than one. First, all flesh is grass because of its beauty. The grass and the flowers are the most charming of all God's inanimate creation. There is grandeur in the ocean; there is sublimity in the clouds; there is glory in the sunshine, and terror in the crash of rolling thunder. But in the flowers there is concentrated all the perfection of beauty. There is the most exquisite development of form, the most perfect loveliness and arrangement of colour, with the most delicious sweetness of fragrance. The world without a flower would be like the heavens without a star, or a desolate heart without an object to love. And there is not mere beauty intended; there is usefulness as well. Without the grass and the flowers, there would, there could be no sustenance for the bodies of any living creatures. They are the means by which the simpler elements of nature are brought into such a condition as will render them suitable for the support of life.

And what the grass and flowers are to the inanimate creation, man is to animated nature. The world without man would be little better than a wilderness. There is massive grandeur in an elephant; there is exquisite beauty in a butterfly; but what would earth be without man to direct, regulate, and enjoy? The subtle secrets of nature's laboratory would exist in vain; the resources of the laws of chemistry, the minerals, the metals, and the products of the world, would have been provided for nought. Man combines within himself all the highest perfection of the wisdom of God, and the power to utilize and enjoy are the results of the Almighty's skill.

But, secondly, all flesh is grass because of the facility with which it may be destroyed. There is nothing more fragile than a flower. How soon it withers! Tear it off from its root, and it droops; let the drought or the wind pass over it, and it dies. Yea, even if left alone to live out its natural period of existence, a day, an hour, brings that existence to a close. Almost before the bud is fully expanded, it begins to fade. A flower is not a tree, which demands a woodman's axe to effect its destruction, for a little child may pluck it from its stalk, and cast it aside, ruined and destroyed. Flowers, again, are short-lived. The grass, indeed, may

remain for a season or seasons, but there is no single flower that lives and blooms for more than a few short and fleeting days. With many their duration is numbered by hours alone. They are never safe from accidents. A sudden breath of wind, an unexpected summer shower, and the most beautiful and promising is destroyed for ever. Surely, all flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof as the flower of the field.

II. These considerations bring before us, as our second step of thought, A VERY PAINFUL REFLECTION.

Death and destruction are always sad to contemplate.

But when death swallows up what is young, lovely, promising, and beautiful, the reflections suggested are more painful still. The great reaper mows down Human philosophy sup

the flowers as well as the ripe and bearded corn. plies no more melancholy reflections than those connected with this part of our subject. For writ on the long scroll of fame are the annals of thousands of men and women who have adorned and beautified the world. The legends of the poets, the songs of the musicians, are as much a part of our daily civilized life as our food itself. How glorious are the works of genius! How great and beloved have been the lives and characters of some whose names cannot be uttered without respect! They have stood out as bright and fragrant flowers in the meadow of the world. But they have all been cut down, and their places know them no more. Does it not seem hard that such talent and usefulness should be taken away? Supposing that Homer had lived for a thousand years; imagine that Shakespear, Handel, and Mozart had maintained their life and vigour till the present time. With their matured experience, what might we not have expected? How might the world have been enriched! Now, here we see the flowers cut off in the fulness of their beauty and vigour.

Is there not something startling in this constant production and as constant destruction? Does it not militate against all our enjoyment of the beauties of earth? The sweetest song we hear is warbling itself into annihilation. The longest laugh that thrills us with delight is dying as it rings its own funeral knell. The voices that charm, the words that delight, the love that soothes-not one of them all is held a moment. Like the stream, they float along as we behold them. We never grasp anything in life. Not for a single instant have we held in our possession a joy or grief, a pleasure or a pain. A fresh succession of fleeting impressions is all that we can call our own.

These are the mysteries of Time. But they are no mysteries after all. We are apt to forget that God's creative work is not yet completed. There are those who attempt to deny that the original work of creation was a progressive work. When they read that "God made man," or God made the trees or fields, they look upon the saying as a definitive, completed act. Was it? Can the most powerful stretch of literature truthfully say that God made all men when He made Adam? Are there not

fresh bodies and fresh souls created every day-bodies and souls which shall last for ever? And so one series of beings passes away from the earth to make room for another, and is to provide space for the development of those countless myriads who shall eventually inhabit the eternal world. Perfect development is not intended in time. More than half God's works never arrives at maturity. Not one living creature in a hundred lives out the full space of its existence. They are either the prey of others, or are destroyed by some accidental event. Not half the leaves, or trees, or flowers reach their full development. Storms, blight, and the necessities of food for animals effect their destruction. And so with man the simile of the text is carried out. Not one human being in ten reaches the three score years and ten of life. More than half of those who are born perish before they are old enough to realize the meaning of life. Can anyone dwell on this subject, and not realize the sadness which its consideration involves? "All flesh is grass, and as the flower of the field it fadeth away."

III. We are awakened from this sadness by having next brought before us A GLORIOUS CONTRAST; the perfection and permanency of God's word-"But the word of our God shall endure for ever."

It is needless to attempt to prove the permanency of Divine truth. It is part of the Divine Being Himself, and His name is Eternity; He is the changeless God. He could not be perfect if He were changeable or corruptible. The word spoken of is, as St. Peter tells us, the preached Word, the Gospel. And it includes all the promises, conditions, perfections, and glories which are bestowed upon man in that Word. It is this that brings the matter home to ourselves. It is our personal concern as much as the earlier part of the text. That tells us, "All flesh is grass and as the flower of the field." The latter part says, "The word of our God endureth for ever." The inference, the blessed inference, for ourselves is that those who are included in that word shall also endure for ever. Is it not so? He who is called the Word of God is speaking— speaking human words, uttering human language. And what does He say? "He that believeth on Me shall never die." Here is the application of the subject in so far as it affects our own interests. It is a rider added to, and growing out of, an all-important problem. By introducing a fresh condition, the whole conclusion is altered. "All flesh is grass, and as the flower of the field it passeth away, but the Word of the Lord endureth for ever."

Now, by the new condition, man is taken out of the former category and introduced into the latter. The act of faith removes us from that which is natural, and introduces us into that which is spiritual, separates us from that which is temporal, and makes us partakers of that which is eternal. That which is flesh will pass, must pass away; that which is spiritual shall endure for ever. Even the fleshly part of our mortal

nature must decay, while the part which is immortal rises to the world above.

IV. We have, then, lastly, AN URGENT COMMAND. "The voice said, Cry." Wherefore should it cry? To proclaim the important truth. Aye, men forget. They go on in their daily toil, but they forget how frail and short is their existence. They work, they live, they laugh, they sing, they rejoice, they contend; but they forget that they must die. They remember everything else. Nothing relating to their personal comfort and enjoyment is overlooked. But that all flesh is grass they wilfully ignore. They see one and another buried from their sight. They hear the booming of the knell as it rings to announce the departure of those whom we have known and loved. Yet the fact makes no impression on ourselves. Hence the voice says, "CRY." Cry aloud and shout. And this is the burden of the preacher's message-to remind the world that time is short, life is passing, death is hasting, and eternity is long. "The voice said, Cry." Wherefore should we cry? to proclaim the truth, and to declare the vanity of life? Nay, it is to urge the lesson this truth is intended to convey on which we have already dwelt. Since all flesh is grass, since time is short, since the material must fade, it becomes us to devote all our care, all our thought, all our attention on that which shall endure. It is the interest of our souls which we ought to consult. It is to see that we are engrafted into the eternal Word of God, that should be our chiefest care. It is to make sure that we are one with Christ; that we are transformed into the image of the eternal God. That should be our daily concern. Cease to care for the flesh; spend all your energy on your immortal souls.

Is it merely

And this is the New Year's Message with which I would greet you all. Oh, how precious is time! How soon will it be gone! God forbid that we should employ it for that which will bring us ruin, misery, and death! May we rather use it as will best further our truest interests and promote the glory of our God!

I do wish all tired people did but know the infinite rest there is in fencing off the six days of the week from the seventh-in anchoring the business ships of our daily life as the Saturday draws to its close, leaving them to ride peacefully upon the flow or the ebb until Monday morning comes again.-Anna Warner.

We have but chewed the husks of religion, which are often bitter, and have never eaten the kernel until we feel that there is nothing in our power that we would not do for God, and nothing in our substance we would not give to Him, and nothing in ourselves that we would not conserate to Him.-Spurgeon.