his spiritual nature) than all the books he has ever read or can read." This I proved in my association with your departed husband. I greatly admired him, especially in his own home. It used to strike me that yours was the sweetest, happiest home I had ever known. I can never forget the tranquil joy that beamed in his eyes, and broke like a wave of light over his face. It always seemed to me that he was brightest and best at his own fireside when your happy circle was complete.'

Another of his colleagues, after referring to his impressions of his public ministry, goes on to say:

'But it was in his home that he was seen in the fairest light. If ever there was a home hallowed by simple piety, lit with cheerfulness and warmed with love, it was this. There all his graces were displayed and explained, for in such an atmosphere character puts on its finest bloom. It was a privilege, which I shall never forget, to join the little circle at their merry table, or take part in the evening hymn and prayer. To see the father and mother taken away, leaving the household "like a deserted bird's nest filled with snow," was sad, unutterably sad.'

'It was a busy, happy, loving life that met my gaze,' writes one. The early gathering for song and worship before starting the business of the day, impressed itself very vividly upon my heart. Home was his dearest, happiest, holiest place, and to

it he always turned with tenderest affection.' 'Of all the pleasures of this life,' Mr. Maunder wrote, those of friendship are to me the most attractive. I would rather have a sunny place in the hearts of my friends than much gold and silver. One of the special attractions of heaven is the friendships which it promises, and this may be enjoyed in some degree this side the better land.'

This coveted possession was his through life to a large degree, preeminently in the partner of his joys and sorrows, whose beautiful and devoted life contributed to a greater degree even than his own to that perfect domestic felicity, the memory of which is so rich a legacy to their children.

On no subject did Mr. Maunder grow more eloquent than on the 'pleasantness of religion'; no taunt of the infidel did he fling back with more contemptuous scorn than the charge that religion made people melancholy. It was meet that his own disposition should have been in such complete harmony with this feeling. In private life he displayed not merely cheerfulness, but a mirthfulness and sportiveness which was contagious. As a boy he had been a lover of fun and mischief, not always probably kept within the strict bounds of decorum; and that he never lost this lightness of heart, a single incident will show. Just a twelvemonth before his death, he went with a friend to the Sheldonian, in Commemoration-week, where the undergraduates make so merry with stately forms and high dignities. Into all their quips and pranks,' says his companion, 'he entered with the freshness of a boy; and when one standing by contemptuously condemned them, he vindicated the young madcaps.'

Only two or three days before his death he was expecting a call from Mr. Bunting. His visitor, on entering the bedroom, was confronted by a poster on the wall, announcing the opening services of the New Wesleyan-Methodist Chapel, Oxford, with Dr. Bunting as one of the Preachers. A second glance showed that the bill was over fifty years old, and referred to the

opening of the old chapel now used as schools. It turned out that his venerable visitor was present at and remembered the service.

His dear colleague, Mr. Shrewsbury, writes: 'My union with Mr. Maunder in Circuit-fellowship is a bright page in the chapter of my life. His company was sunshine. I have seen him under the pressure of severe pain and prostrating affliction, and even then he would smile and be cheerful.' His spirits seemed even to rise with sickness and suffering, so much so, that it became a family paradox, that he 'must be very ill, he was so merry.' 'A merry heart doeth good like a medicine,' says the wise man, and the merry twinkle of Mr. Maunder's eye, and the ring of his hearty laughter, has many a time done more to cheer and encourage his colleagues when cast down, than the gravest counsels could have done.

Mr. Maunder was subject to occasional fits of depression, amounting at times to dejection, but in their origin they appear to have been mental and spiritual rather than physical. If his plans seemed to fail, or his labours to be unproductive, or the spiritual life of the Church to be low, he was cast down; but it needed only a successful service or a good Prayer-meeting to restore his habitual cheerfulness.

The home-clinging and home-centering of Mr. and Mrs. Maunder had no taint of narrowness or selfishness. A certain distaste for society, except in its most homely phases, common to both, probably emphasized unconsciously home duties and enhanced its pleasures; but they were preeminently one in the way in which acts of love and kindness were scattered whenever and wherever they had opportunity. Self-sacrifice for others was a habit of their lives. A systematic setting apart of a stated portion of their income was the guide and foundation, but was far from being the limit of their charity.

Of Mr. Maunder's death, his colleague in Oxford thus writes: 'I cannot forbear adding how happy he was in his death. His work was done; the chapel, to which he had given so much care, was almost finished. He died in the early afternoon in the midsummer, the most peaceful hour of the day, in the calmest season of the year. The lovely city had suspended work, and was preparing for her festival. Death had not troubled him with warnings, for he was ready. It flung no darts; it only breathed on him. There was no triumph in his end, his meek spirit did not look for it; but unbroken peace, unclouded light. No time was allowed for testimony; it had been delivered through threescore years, and as soon as he was gone, the partner of his life seemed forcibly drawn from earth, as by the powerful attraction of his spirit.'

TEXTS FOR THE TIMES:

THE VITALITY AND OPERATION OF THE WORD OF GOD:

BY THE REV. STANLEY LEATHES, D.D., PREBENDARY OF ST. PAUL'S,

PROFESSOR OF HEBREW IN KING'S COLLEGE, LONDON, ETC.*

For as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater: so shall My word be that goeth forth out of My mouth: it shall not return unto Me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.'-—ISAIAH LV. 10, 11.

A COMPARISON is drawn here between what the Prophet calls the word of God and the action of the rain and snow that come down from heaven; and from the contrast it does not appear that any particular word of God is more especially meant, but that the characteristics of that word generally are intended. It is plain, also, that the personal individuality of the Prophet passes away and is altogether lost when he says: 'My word that goeth forth out of My mouth.' He is speaking absolutely in the person of God; and the word spoken of is not any word of his, but the word of God.

The recognition of this fact opens out to us a variety of questions with which we cannot now deal: such as the authority with which he so spake; the test which enabled him to determine that he was the bearer of a Divine message, and that the message which he bore was actually Divine; the method by which he was taught to separate between mere convictions of his own and the majesty and integrity of a Divine word, and the like; but that the fact is one to be recognised is, I apprehend, undeniable. That is to say, we find in the Prophet Isaiah, five-and-twenty centuries ago, the expression of that which is so familiar to us afterwards in the Gospels and Epistles of the New Testament: the truth, namely, that there is a certain entity in the spiritual world, however it may be conceived of and defined, which is called the word of God; and this word of God is something which is apparently entrusted to and conveyed by a particular class of persons, of whom the Prophets and Apostles were conspicuous examples. We find the consciousness of its presence among them, and we find it nowhere else outside the sphere in which they moved. We are not, therefore, concerned on the present occasion to prove the existence of this entity; but are content to affirm, and shall endeavour to enforce it.

We have in our possession that which claims to be the word of God. This word of God claims to be, not of human, but of Divine origin. It comes to us with an absolute and imperative authority. It is fraught with a message and a meaning of its own. It speaks with the voice and accent of a stranger, and with the sovereignty of a king. It professes to tell us something which, from the nature of the case if its claim is just, we cannot dis

* Preached at St. Margaret's, Westminster, January 16th, 1881, on behalf of the British and Foreign Bible Society.

cover for ourselves. A moment's consideration will show us that if the word of God, whatever that may be, is indeed the word of God, then it must be in its essence separate and distinct from anything of our own, unless, indeed, God is another name for man, and man is another form of God.

I want then, first, to enforce this thought: that God's word, as God's word, is an entity by itself, not to be confounded with or conditioned by the accidents of its transmission or conveyance by the Prophet Isaiah or the Apostle Paul, or, in fact, by One Who is higher than both. For even in this last case, however pure and clear the original utterance may have been, I apprehend there is room for conceivable alteration in the process of traditional transmission and preservation. And, consequently, we are led to this conclusion: that the whole virtue of God's word, whatever that word may be, consists in the fact that it is the word of GOD, and not in any secondary accidents or conditions attending it. This is truly what our Lord Himself taught when He said: "The word which ye hear is not Mine, but the Father's which sent Me.' 'He that heareth My word, and believeth on Him that sent Me, hath everlasting life.' It is therefore, as a matter of fact, of far greater importance that we should believe that God has actually spoken and has given us His word, than that we should be able to point out with minute precision and accuracy where that word is to be found, and what its actual form is. If we know that we have God's word, and that it is God's word that we have, it is a matter of subordinate import that we are able to define the conditions under which it is conveyed, and the precise amount of human admixture attending the conveyance. Because, though God's word may be an entity in itself, it is not in itself, so comprehended and defined, that its essence lies, but in the fact, that it is the Word of God—that it is the message of God, and that it testifies of God. This was ever the teaching of the Lord Jesus. He was profuse in His appeal to the ancient Scriptures, because they had a message of their own, and because they testified of Him: What is written in the law?' 'What did Moses command you?' 'How then shall the Scriptures be fulfilled, that thus it must be?' 'The things concerning Me have an end;' and the like. But yet at the same time it was ever to the Father that He pointed men as the ultimate goal of belief and love and hope: 'If I do not the works of My Father, believe Me not. But if I do, though ye believe not Me, believe the works: that ye may know, and believe, that the Father is in Me, and I in Him.....I and My Father are One.'

Assuming, then, that we have an actual word of God, a veritable and authentic revelation of the Divine Will, which, so far as we are in any sense believers, we must admit, it may be well to note some of the features and characteristics which the Prophet assigns to this word of God; which he no more attempts to define than I have ventured to do. It is compared to the rain and snow which come down from heaven. It is the word of God which goeth forth out of His mouth. It is not of the earth earthy,' but it is from heaven and of God. It is not, however, an end in itself; it is

given and sent for a purpose: it' watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater.' Its purpose is to fertilize and fructify; if it fails in this, it fails of its one

purpose.

In like manner, the word of God is not an end in itself, but a means to an end: it is given for a purpose; and if its purpose is not fulfilled, it also is useless and void. The purpose, therefore, for which the word of God exists is that it also may fertilize and fructify in the hearts of men. And it is here that the preliminary observations I have made are illustrated; because the word of God is, so to say, not content with being the word of God, however high the dignity, but it must be honoured in its operation and effect; it must fulfil the conditions described by the Apostle: 'When ye received the word of God which ye heard of us, ye received it not as the word of men, but as it is in truth, the word of God, which effectually worketh also in you that believe. What that particular word of God was we can only conjecturally imagine. What its effects were we know, and its effects are a sufficient witness for itself. They are they which testify of Me.'

6

And thus we are led to what is, at all events, an indispensable characteristic and condition of the word of God, which concerns us practically, very much more than the accurate definition of that word itself. Even if the word itself were very subtle and impalpable in its essence, so that the more we might attempt to scrutinize and examine it, the more it might elude our enquiry; yet if the character here assigned is true, there must be another point in which it will be recognisable, and this will be in its method of operation. For the word of God, if it is God's word, will effectually and unmistakably work. It will fertilize and fructify in the human heart; it will witness for God, and it will reveal God. There will be no mistake about God's word, because it will speak a word for God: such a word as those only can speak who are themselves of God. Now this is the proof of the word of God—the only ultimate proof that it ever can have it will tell us that about God which no one but God can tell us, and which we most assuredly should not believe if any one else short of Him did tell us. It will bring to us the word of salvation; it will show us how we may become new men; it will tell us how and where we may find the pardon of our sins; not by extenuating and minimising the evil of sin, but by revealing to our consciences the potent efficacy of that which is ordained and opened out to take away sin, and is mightier than sin.

The word of God is its own witness in the heart of man: not, however, when its essential nature is curiously enquired into; not when its claim is contested and denied or questioned; not when the antecedent possibility of any revelation at all, or the abstract possibility of any sufficient authentication of it, is maintained; but there in the heart of the contrite sinner who trembleth at the very word which heals him; there in the conscience of the believer who beholds his God, and sees Him revealed as a loving and for