 As pointed out in the foregoing chapter, the General was always anxious to make clear to all and to avoid the possibility of a continuance of the organization and a routine of effort without the spirit in which the work has been begun. We could not better describe that spirit than he did in the following address to his officers gathered around him in London in 1904. He pictured to them the idea of seven spirits sent out from heaven to possess the soul of every officer, and thus described the action of two of them. The Spirit of Life We begin with the good spirit, the spirit of life. What did he say? What were the words he brought to us from the throne? Let me repeat them. Oh, officers, officers, I am one of the seven spirits whom John saw. I travel up and down the earth on special errands of mercy. I am come from him that sitteth on the throne and reigneth for ever and ever, to tell you that if you are going to succeed in your life and death struggle for God and man, the first thing you must possess in all its full and rich maturity is the spirit of divine life. Now, before I go to the direct consideration of this message, let me have a word or two about life itself. Life as you know is the opposite principle to death. To be alive is to possess an inward force capable of action without any outside assistance. For instance, anything that has in it the principle by which it is able to act in some way, independent of the will of any other thing or creature outside of itself, may be said to be alive. It has in it the principle of life. This principle of life is the mainspring and glory of God's universe. We have it in different forms in this world. For instance, we have material life. There is living and dead water. There is living and dead earth. Then there is vegetable life. In the fields and woods and gardens you have living trees and flowers and seeds. Then there is animal life. Only think of the variety and usefulness and instinctive skill of unnumbered members of the animal world. Then rising higher in the scale of being you have human life. Every man, woman and child possesses, as it were, a trinity of existence, namely physical life, mental life and soul life, each being a marvel in itself. Then rising higher still we have a life more important and bringing more glory to God than any of the other forms that I have noticed. And that is spiritual life. On this spiritual life let me make one or two remarks. Spiritual life is divine in its origin. It is a creation of the Holy Spirit. I need not dwell on this truth. Jesus Christ was in great trouble to teach it. Marvel not, he said, ye must be born again. That which is born of the flesh is flesh. And that which is born of the spirit is spirit. You have gone through this experience yourselves. You must insist on it in your people. Spiritual life proceeds from God. It can be obtained in no other way. Spiritual life not only proceeds from God but partakes of the nature of God. We see this principle that the life imparted partakes of the nature of the author of being that imparts it, illustrated around us in every direction. The tree partakes of the nature of the tree from which it is derived. The animal partakes of the nature of the creature that it begets. The child partakes of the nature of its parents. So the soul, born of God, will possess the nature of its author. Its life will be divine. This is a mystery. We cannot understand it, but the apostle distinctly affirms it when he says, the Son of God is a partaker of the divine nature. Spiritual life, like all other life, carries with it the particular powers belonging to its own nature. Every kind of life has its own particular powers, senses, instincts, or whatever they may be called. Animal life has its power, enabling it to draw nutrition out of the ground. Fish life has power adapting it to an existence in the water. Animal life has powers or senses suitable to its sphere of existence, such as seeing, hearing, tasting, and the like. Human life has faculties, emotions, loves, and hatreds suitable to its manner of existence. And it has its own peculiar destiny. It goes back to God, to be judged as to its conduct when its earthly career terminates. And the spiritual life of which we are speaking has powers or faculties necessary to the maintenance of its existence and to the discharge of the duties appropriate to the sphere in which it moves. For instance, it has powers to draw from God the nourishment it requires. It has powers to see or discern spiritual things. It has powers to distinguish holy people. It has powers to love truth and to hate falsehood. It has powers to suffer and sacrifice for the good of others. It has powers to know and love and glorify its maker. Animals possessed of this spiritual life, like all other beings, act according to their nature. For instance, the tree grows in the woods and bears leaves and fruit after its own nature. The bird flies in the air, builds its nest, and sings its song after its own nature. The wild beasts roam through the forest and rage and devour according to their own nature. If you are to make these or any other creatures act differently, you must give them a different nature. By distorting the tree or training the animal or clipping the wings of the bird, you may make some trifling and temporary alteration in the condition or conduct of these creatures. But when you have done this, left to themselves, they will soon revert to their original nature. By way of illustration, a menagerie recently paid a visit to a northern town. Amongst the exhibits was a cage labeled the Happy Family, containing a lion, a tiger, a wolf, and a lamb. When the keeper was asked, confidentially, how long a time these animals had lived, thus peacefully together, he answered, about ten months. And he said, with a twinkle in his eye, the lamb has to be renewed occasionally. As with these forms of life, so with men and women and children, the only way to secure conduct of a lasting character, different from its nature, is by affecting a change in that nature. Make them new creatures in Christ Jesus, and you will have a Christ-like life. The presence of the powers natural to spiritual life constitutes the only true and sufficient evidence of its possession. The absence of these powers shows conclusively the absence of the life. If a man does not love God and walk humbly with Him, if he does not long after holiness, love his comrades, and care for souls, it will be satisfying evidence that he has gone back to the old nature, that is, to spiritual death. All spiritual life is not only imparted by Jesus Christ, but sustained by direct union with Him. I am the vine, he says, ye have the branches. He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit. For without me ye can do nothing. John 15 verse 6 Nothing will make up for the lack of this life. This indeed applies to every kind of existence. You cannot find a substitute for life in the vegetable kingdom. Try the trees in the garden. Look at that dead apple tree. As you see it there, it is useless, ugly, fruitless. What will make up for the absence of life? Will the digging or the minoring of the ground around it do this? No, that will be all in vain. If it is dead, there is only one remedy, and that is to give it life, new life. Take the animal world. What can you do to make up for the lack of life in a dog? I read the other day of a lady who had a pet dog. She loved it to distraction. It died. What could she do with it to make up for its loss of life? Well, she might have preserved it, stuffed it, jeweled its eyes, and painted its skin. But had she done so, these things would have been a disappointing substitute. So she buried it, and committed suicide in her grief and was buried by its side. Take the loss of human life. What is the use of a dead man? Go to the death chamber, look at that corpse. The loved ones are distracted. What can they do? They may dress it, adorn it, appeal to it, but all that human skill and effort can conceive will be in vain. All that broken hearts can say or do must soon terminate, as did Abraham's morning for sorrow when he said, Give me a piece of land that I may bury my dead out of my sight. Nothing can make up for the lack of life. But this is especially true of the spiritual life of which we are speaking. Take this in its application to a core. If you want an active, generous, fighting, daredevil core able and willing to drive the hell before it, that core must be possessed and that fully by this spirit of life. Nothing else can effectively take its place. No education, learning, Bible knowledge, theology, social amusements, or anything of the kind will be a satisfactory substitute. The core that seeks to put any of these things in the place of life will find them a mockery, a delusion, and a snare. It will find them to be only the raps and trappings of death itself, and if it is so in the core, it is so ten thousand times more in the officer who commands that core, in you. Spiritual life is the essential root of every other qualification required by a Salvation Army officer. With it he will be of unspeakable interest. He will be a pleasure to himself. There is an unspeakable joy in having healthy, exuberant life. He will be of interest to those about him. Who cares about dead things? Dead flowers, throw them out. Dead animals, eat them. Dead men, bury them. Dead and dying officers, take them away, give them another core. If he is living he will be of interest to all about him. Living with humble abilities, if full of this spiritual life, will be a charm and a blessing wherever they go. Look at the lives and writings of such humble men as Billy Bray, Carvoso, and Hodgson Cassan. Their memory is an ointment poured forth today after long years have passed away. Without this life an officer will be of no manner of use, no matter how he may be educated or talented. Without life is to be without love. And to be without love, the apostle tells us, is to be only as a sounding brass. But it is not that of which I want to speak just now. Spiritual life is essential to the preservation of life. The first thing life does for its possessor is to lead him to look after its own protection. When the principle of life is strong you will have health and longevity. When it is weak you have disease. When it is extinct you have decay and ratness. Only vigorous spiritual life will enable a Salvation Army officer to effectively discharge the duties connected with his position. Life is favorable to activity. It is so with all life. Go into the tropical forests and see the exuberant growth of everything there. Look at the foliage, the blossom, the fruit. Look at the reptiles crawling at your feet and take care they do not sting you. Look at the birds chattering and fluttering on the trees and they will charm you. Look at the animals roving through the woods and take care they do not devour you. Just all this movement with the empty, barren, silent, polar regions or the dreary, treeless sands of the African Desert. Go and look at the overflowing tireless activity of the children. Why are they never still? It is the life that is in them. Go to the man at work. With what glee and for what a trifling remuneration he sweats and lifts and carries the ponderous weights. Go to the soldier in the military war, how he shouts and sings as he marches to deprivations and wounds and death. Even so with spiritual life. It never rests. It never tires. It always sees something great to do and is always ready to undertake it. What is the explanation? How can we account for it? The answer is life, abundant life. It is only by the possession of life that the Salvation Army officer can spread this life. That is, reproduce himself, multiply himself or his kind. This reproduction or multiplication of itself is a characteristic of all life. Take the vegetable kingdom. Every living plant has life-producing seed or some method of reproducing itself. The thistle, who can count the number of plants that one thistle can produce in a year. One hundred strawberry plants can be made in ten years to produce more than a thousand million other strawberry plants. Take the animal kingdom. Here each living creature has this reproductive power. They say that a pair of sparrows would in ten years, if all their progeny could be preserved, produce as many birds as there are people on the earth. That is, one point five billion, a year of more value than many sparrows. Just so, this spiritual life is intended to spread itself through the world. It is to this end it is given to you. Since command to Adam was be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth. How much more does this command apply to you and to me? You are to be progenitors of a world of men and women possessed of spiritual life. The parents of a race of angels. How this is to be done is another question. About that I shall have something to say as we go along. For the moment I am simply occupied with the fact that you have to call this world of holy beings into existence by spreading this life. Every officer here is located in a world of death. Sometimes we style it a dying world, and so it is on its human side. But on its spiritual side it is past dying. It is dead. By that I do not mean that the spiritual nature, that is the soul, ever ceases to be in any man. That will never come to pass. Perhaps nothing once created will ever cease to be. Anyway, man is immortal. The soul can never die, neither do I mean that there is no spiritual life. By spiritual death we mean that the soul is separated from God. No union with him. In a blind man the organ may be perfect, but not connected. Inactive. No love for the things God loves. No hatred for the things he hates. Dead to his interests. His kingdom. Dead to him. Corrupt, bad, devilish, etc. What a valley of dry bones the world appears to the man whose eyes have been open to see the truth of things. Verily verily it is one great cemetery crowded with men, women, and children dead in trespasses and sin. Look for a moment at this graveyard in which the men around you may be said to lie with their hearts all dead and cold to Christ and all the concerns their salvation. Look at it. The men and women and children in your town are buried there. The men and women in your city, in your street. Nay, the very people who come to your hall to hear you talk on a Sunday night are there. There they lie. Let us read the inscriptions on some of their tombs. Here lies Tom Jones. He had a beautiful nature, and a young virtuous wife and some beautiful children, all starved and wretched through their father's selfish ways. He can't help himself. He says so. He has proved it. He is dead in drunkenness. Here lies Harry Pleas yourself. Mad on footballing, theaters, music halls, dances, and the like. Nothing else morning, noon, or night seems to interest him. There he is, dead in pleasure. Here lies James Hottiness. All of high notions about his abilities, or his knowledge, or his family, or his house, or his fortune, or his business, or his dogs, or something. There he is, dead in pride. Here lies Jane Featherhead. Absorbed in her hats and gowns and ribbons and companions and attainments. There she is, dead in vanity. Here lies Miser Grassball. Taken up with his money, sovereigns, dollars, francs, kroner, much or little. Let me have more, and more is his dream and his cry and his aim by night and day. There he is, dead in covetousness. Here lies Skeptical Doutal. Hunting through the world of nature and revolution, and Providence and specially through the dirty world of his own dark little heart for arguments against God and Christ in heaven. There he is, dead in infidelity. Here lies Jeremiah Make-Believe. With his Bible class and singing choir and Sunday religion and heartless indifference to the salvation or damnation of the perishing crowds at his door. There he is, dead in formality. Here lies Surly Bad Blood. Packed full of suspicions and uttered disregards for the happiness and feelings of his wife, family, neighbors, or friends. There he is, dead in bad tempers. Here lies Dives Enjoy Yourself. Look at his marble tomb and golden coffin and embroidered shroud and ermine robes. This is a man whose every earthly want is supplied. Carriage is music, friends. There he is, dead in luxury. Here lies Dick Neverfear. His mouth is filled with laughter in his heart with contempt when you speak to him about his soul. He has no anxiety, not he. He'll come off our right, Neverfear. Is not God merciful? And did not Christ die? And did not his mother pray? Don't be alarmed, God won't hurt him. There he is, dead in presumption. End of Section 32, Part 1, Recording by Tom Hirsch. Section 33, Spirit of the Army, Part 2. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Hirsch. Here lies Judas Renegade. His grave has a desolate look. The thorns and thistles grow over it. The occupant has money and worldly friends and many other things, but altogether he gets no satisfaction out of them. He is uneasy all the time. There he is, dead in apostasy. There are any number of other graves. It is interesting, although painful, to wander amongst them. All or nearly all their occupants are held down by a heavy weight of ignorance, a sense of utter helplessness, and all are bound hand and foot with chains of lust or passion or procrastination of their own forging. In the midst of these graves you live and move and have your being. What is your duty here? Oh, that you realized your true business in this region of death. Having eyes, oh, that you could see. Having ears, oh, that you could hear. Having hearts, oh, that you could feel. What are you going to do with this graveyard? Walk about it in heartless unconcern? Or with no higher feeling than gratitude for having been made alive yourselves? Or will you content yourself with strolling through it, taxing its poor occupants for your living, while leaving them quietly in their tombs as hopeless as you found them? Heaven forbid! Well then, what do you propose? What will you do? Look after their bodies and feed and nourish them, making the graveyard as comfortable or resting place as you can? That is good so far as it goes, but that is not very far. Will that content you? Decorate their graves with flowers and evergreens and wreaths of pleasant things? Will that content you? Amuse them with your music or the singing of your songs or the letting off of your oratorical fireworks amongst their rotting corpses? Will that content you? Collect them in doctrines and rescues and salvations in which they have no share? Will that content you? No. No. No. A thousand times, no! You won't be content with all that. God has sent you into this dark valley for nothing less than to raise these doomstruck creatures from the dead. That is your mission. Your stop short of this will be a disastrous and everlasting calamity. What do you say? It cannot be done. That is false. God would never have set you an impossible task. You cannot do it. That is again false, for you have done it before again and again. There's not an officer here who has not called some souls from the dead. Not one. How many thousands, how many tens of thousands in the aggregate have the officers present at this Congress raised from the graves of iniquity? Who can tell? Go and do it again. Go and look at them. Go and compassionate them. Go and represent Jesus Christ to them. Go and prophesy to them. Go and believe for them. And then shall bone come to bone, and there shall be a great noise, and a great army shall stand up to live and fight and die for the living God. The spirit of purity. And now we come to the consideration of the message of the second spirit. Let us recall his words. O officers, officers, the great Father has sent me to tell you that if you would be successful in your campaign against wickedness, selfishness, and fiends, you must yourselves be holy. I come now to the task of showing as far as I am able what the plan of life is which God has formed for the Salvation Army officer. What must an officer be and do who wants satisfactorily to fill up the plan God has formed for him? Of course there will in some respects be certain striking differences in that plan, but in the main there will be remarkable resemblances. The first thing that God asks is that the officer shall possess the character he approves. You might say the character that he admires. The very essence of that character is expressed in one word, holiness. In the list of qualifications for effective leadership in this warfare, the Salvation Army has ever placed holiness in the first rank. The Army has said, and says today, that no other qualities or abilities can take its place. No learning, or knowledge, or talking, or singing, or scheming, or any other gift will make up for the absence of this. You must be good if you are to be a successful officer in the Salvation Army. Let us suppose that a comrade were to present himself before us this morning, and say, I am a Salvationist, I want to be an officer amongst you, and I want to be an officer after God's own heart, but I am ignorant of the qualifications needed. If I were to ask you what I should say to this brother, I know what your answer would be. You would say with one voice, tell him that before all else he must be a holy man. Suppose further that I appeared before you myself for the first time at this Congress, and were to say to you, my comrades, I have come to be your leader. What is the first, the foundation quality I require for your leadership? I know the answer you would give me. You would say, oh general, you must be a holy man. If there were gathered before me in some mighty building, the choicest spirits now fighting in the Salvation Army the world over, commissioners and staff officers, field officers, and local officers, together with soldiers of every grade and class, and suppose further that it's standing out before that crowd, I was to propose the question, in what position in our qualifications shall I place the blessing of holiness? You know what the answer would be. With a voice that would be heard among the multitudes in heaven, the crowd would answer, holiness must be in the first rank. If this morning I had the privilege of ascending to the celestial city, and asking the assembled angels in that mighty temple where day and night they worship the great Jehovah, what position ought holiness to occupy in the qualifications needed by Salvation Army officers in their fight on earth? You know that angels and archangels, cherubim and seraphim, would join with the seven spirits that are before the throne with one united shout, loud enough to make the ears of Gabriel tingle, and would answer, place it first. If I could have the still greater privilege of kneeling before the intercessory throne of my dear, my precious, my glorified Savior, and of asking him what position this truth should hold in the hearts and efforts of Salvation Army officers, you know that he would answer. Blessed are the pure in heart, holiness comes first. If further still, born on a burning seraph's wings I could rise to the heaven of heavens, and like its holy inhabitants, be allowed to enter the holy of holies, where Jehovah especially manifests his glory. And if prostrate before that throne, with all reverence I should ask the question, what is the first and most important qualification a Salvation Army officer must possess in order to do your blessed will? You have his answer already. You know that he would reply, be a holy, for I am holy. What then is that holiness which constitutes the first qualification of an officer, in which is asked for by that blessed spirit of purity coming from the throne of God? In replying to this question, I cannot hope to do more than put you in remembrance of what you must already know. I will, however, to begin with, and take the broad ground that holiness, in the sense in which the Salvation Army uses the word, means entire deliverance from sin. I shall explain myself as I go along, but I begin with the assertion that holy souls are saved from sin. You all know what sin is, and it is important that you should, and that you should be able to define it at a moment's notice to whomsoever may inquire. John says, all unrighteousness is sin. That is, everything that a man sees to be actually wrong, that, to him, is sin. Whether the wrong be an outward act, or an inward thought, or a secret purpose does not affect its character. If the act, or thought, or purpose is wrong to that particular soul, it is sin. Whether the wrong be done in public, and blazoned abroad before the world as such, or whether it be committed in darkness and secrecy, where no human eye can follow it, matters not, it is sin. To be holy, I say, is to be delivered from the commission of sin. Is not that blessed? To be holy is to be delivered from the penalty of sin. The wages of sin is death. Holy men are fully and freely forgiven. One of the evidences of the possession of holiness is the full assurance of that deliverance. Salvation from doubt as to this. Is not that blessed? Holiness includes deliverance from the guilt of sin. Sin has a retributive power. At the moment of commission it implants a sting in the conscience, which in the impenitent man lights a flame, which without the application of the precious blood is never extinguished. In holiness the sting is extracted, and the fire is quenched. Is not that blessed? Holiness supposes deliverance from the defilement of sin. Sin pollutes the imagination, defiles the memory, and is a filth-creating leaven which, unless purged away, ultimately corrupts and rots the whole being. In holiness all the filth is cleansed away. The soul is washed in the blood of the Lamb. This is the reason for so much being said in the Bible, and in the experience of entirely sanctified people about purity of heart. Is not that blessed? Holiness means complete deliverance from the bondage of sin. Every time a sin is committed the inclination to do the same again is encouraged, and those habits which belong to the evil nature are strengthened until they assume the mastery of the soul, and the soul comes more and more under the tyranny of evil. In conversion the chains that bind men to sin are broken, but the tendency to evil still lingers behind. In holiness the bondage is not only entirely destroyed, and the soul completely delivered from these evil tendencies, but is free to do the will of God so far as it is known as really as it is done in heaven. Is not that blessed? Holiness supposes the deliverance of the soul from the rule and reign of selfishness. The essence of sin is selfishness, that is the unreasoning improper love of self. The essence of holiness is benevolence. Holy souls are mastered by love, filled with love. Is not that blessed? It will be seen then that the officer who enjoys this experience of holiness will have received power from God to live a life consciously separated from sin. A man cannot be living in a God-pleasing state if he is knowingly living in sin or consenting to it, which amounts to the same thing. Let us look a little more closely at this. Holiness will mean a present separation from all that is openly or secretly untrue. Anyone pretending to be doing the will of God while acting untruthfully or deceitfully in his dealings with those around him is not only guilty of falsehood, but of hypocrisy. To be holy is to be sincere. Holiness means separation from all open and secret dishonesty. This applies to everything like defrauding another of that which is his just and lawful do. Holiness also means separation from all that is unjust. Calling unto others as you would that they should do to you may be truly described as one of the lovely flowers and fruits of purity. Holiness means salvation from all neglect of duty to God and man. All pretensions to holiness are vain while the soul is living in the conscious neglect of duty. A holy officer will do his duty to his maker. He will love God with all his heart, such a heart as he has, big or little. He will love and worship him and strive to please him in all that he does. A holy officer will love his neighbor as himself. The law of love will govern his dealings with his family, comrades, neighbors, body and soul. That is a beautiful experience which I am describing, is it not, my comrades? And you cannot be surprised that the spirit of purity should bring you the message that it is God's plan of life for you. Upon it let me make a few further remarks. Holiness is a distinct definite state. A man can be in it or out of it. Holiness is enjoyed partially or entirely by all converted people. It can be enjoyed partially. No one would say that every converted man was a holy man, and no one would say that every man who was not perfectly holy was not converted. But I should say, and so would you, that every truly converted man is the master of sin, although he may not be entirely delivered from it. Then again holiness is a continued growth in sincere souls. With faith, watchfulness, prayer and obedience, the power of sin diminishes as the days pass along and the strength of holiness increases. The line which separates a state of entire from a state of partial holiness may be approached very gradually, but there is a moment when it is crossed. The approach of death is often all but imperceptible, but there is a moment when the last breath is drawn. Just so there is a moment when the body of sin is destroyed, however gradual the process may have been by which that state has been reached. There is a moment when the soul becomes entirely holy, entirely God's. By perseverance in the sanctified life spiritual manhood is reached, and the soul is perfected in love. That is maturity. Let me illustrate the doctrine of holiness in its varied aspects by comparing its attainment to the ascent of a lofty mountain. Come with me. Yonder is the sacred mount towering far above the clouds and fogs of sin and selfishness. Around its base, stretching into the distance as far as I can reach, lies a flat, dismal, swampy country. The district is thickly populated by people who, while professing the enjoyment of religion, are swallowed up in unreality about everything that apportains to salvation. They talk and sing and pray and write and read about it, but they are all more or less in doubt whether they have any individual part or lot in the matter. Sometimes they think they have a hope in heaven, but more frequently they are afraid that their very hopes are a delusion. The land is haunted by troubling spirits continually coming and going that point to past misdoings and coming penalties. Such venomous creatures as hatred, revenges, lusts, and other evil passions are rife in every direction, while the demons of doubt and despair seem to come and go of their own free will, leading men and women on the one hand to indifference, worldliness and infidelity, and on the other to darkness and despair. This wild, dismal territory we will style the land of uncertainty. In the center of this unlovable and undesirable country, the mountain of which I want to speak lifts its lofty head. Call it Mount Pisgah, or Mount Pula, or if you will, call it Mount Purity. I like that term the best. But whatever you name it, there it is, rising up above the clouds and fogs of sin and selfishness and doubt and fear and condemnation that ever overhang the swampy land of uncertainty of which I have given you a glimpse. Look at it, there are some monster mountains in the natural world, but they are mere molehills alongside this giant height. Look at it again. Is it not an entrancing sight? Its lofty brow, crowned with a halo of glorious light, reaches far upwards towards the gates of endless day. Those living on its summit have glorious glimpses of the towers and palaces of the celestial city. The atmosphere is eminently promotive of vigorous health and lively spirits. But its chief claim is the purity of heart, the constant faith, the loving nature and the consecrated, self-sacrificing devotion of those who are privileged to dwell there. It must be a charming place, the multitudes whose feet have ever been permitted to tread its blessed heights, think so, but, while gazing on the entrancing sight, the question spontaneously arises, how can I get there? There is evidently no mountain railway nor elevator on which, while reclining on pillows of ease and serenaded by music and song, you can be rapidly and smoothly lifted up to the blessed summit. Those who reach that heavenly height must climb what the Bible calls the Highway of Holiness, and they will usually find it a rugged, difficult journey, often having to fight every inch of the way. But once on the celestial summit the travelers will feel amply repaid for every atom of trouble and toil involved in the ascent. The road to this glorious height passes through various plateaus, or stages, which run all around the sides of the mountain, each different from the other, and each higher than the one that preceded it. Travelers to the summit have to pass through each of these stages. Let me enumerate some of the chief among them. To begin with there is the awakening stage, where the climbers obtain their first fair view of this holy hill. It is here that the desire to make the ascent first breaks out. This longing is often awakened by reading various guidebooks or holiness advertisements, such as the Warcry, or Perfect Love, which set forth the blessedness experience by those who make the heavenly ascent. Sometimes the desire to ascend the holy hill is awakened by the pure light, which every now and then shines from the summit direct into the traveler's hearts, or it may be their souls are set on fire with a holy longing to be emptied of sin and filled with love by the burning testimonies of some of the people who live up there, but who come down into the valley every now and then to persuade their comrades to make the ascent. Anyway, it almost always happens when those who read these guidebooks and listen to these testimonies begin to search their Bibles and cry to God for guidance. The desperate of hunger and thirst sets in which gives them no rest until they themselves resolve to take the journey up the side of this wonderful mountain. A little higher up and you reach the starting stage. Here, those who fully resolve upon seeking holiness of heart first enter their names in the traveler's book. On this plateau I observe that there is a great deal of prayer. You can hear the earnest petitions going up to heaven whichever way you turn, and much prayer as there is, you can hear much singing also. One of the favorite songs commences, O glorious hope of perfect love! It lifts me up to things above. It bears on eagle's wings, it gives my ravished soul a taste, and makes me for some moment's feast with Jesus' priests and kings. There is another favorite song which begins, O joyful sound of gospel grace, Christ shall in me appear. I, even I, shall see his face, I shall be holy here. But still ascending we come to the wrestling stage. Here the travelers are met by numerous enemies who are in dead opposition to their ever-reaching the summit. I observe that the enemies attack those travelers with doubts as to the possibility of ever reaching the mountain's top, and with scores of questions about apparently conflicting passages of scripture and contradictory experiences of Christian people, and alas with only two frequent success, for the whole plateau seems to be strewn with the records of broken resolutions relating to the renouncements of evil habits, tempting companions, and deluding indulgences. And I observe that lying about are many unfulfilled consecrations relating to friends and money and children and time and other things. In fact, this stage seems to be a strange mixture of faith and unbelief. So much so that it is difficult to believe that we are on the slopes of Mount Purity at all. Here you will find posted on the sides of the rocks in all directions, placards bearing the words, the things I would do, those I do not, and the things I would not do, those I do, and there is no spiritual health in me. And up and down you will also see notice boards, warning would-be travelers not to climb any higher for fear they should fall again. But thank God, while many chicken-hearted souls lie down in despair on this plateau, or retrace their steps to the dreary regions below. Others declare that there is no necessity for failure. These push forward in the upward ascent, singing as they go. Though earth and hell the world gainsay, the word of God can never fail. The Lamb shall take my sins away. Tis certain, though impossible, the thing impossible shall be, all things are possible to me. So persevering with our journey higher up, very much higher up, we come to the sin-mastering stage. This is a glorious plateau. All who enter it do so by the narrow passage of repentance toward God and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, receiving in their souls as they pass the threshold the delightful assurance of full and free forgiveness through the blood of the Lamb. Here men and women walk with heads erect in holy confidence, and hearts glad with living faith, and mouths full of joyous song, and eyes steadily fixed on the holy light that streams from the summit of the Mount above them. That holy beacon-guide is ever calling on them to continue their journey and ever directing them on the way. Those who have reached this stage have already made great and encouraging progress, for God has made them conquerors over their inward foes. The rule and reign of pride and malice, envy and lust, covetousness and sensuality, and every other evil thing have come to an end. They triumph on that account, but the conflict is not yet ended. Sometimes the battling is very severe, but with patient, plodding faith they persevere in the ascent, singing as they go. Faith mighty faith the promise sees, and looks to that alone, laughs at impossibilities, and cries it shall be done. And now close at hand is the stage of deliverance, where the triumph is begun. And now ten thousand hallelujahs let it be known to all the world around that once on this plateau the separation from sin is entire. The heart is fully cleansed from evil. The promise is proved to be true. They that hunger and thirst after righteousness shall be filled. At a great Christian conference the other day an eminent divine said that the Salvation Army believed in a perfect sinner, but that he believed in a perfect Savior. This, I contend, was a separation of what God has joined together and which never ought to be put asunder. For glory be to the Father, glory be to the Son, and glory be to the Holy Ghost. The Salvation Army believes, with its Lord, that a perfect Savior can make a poor sinner into a perfect saint. That is, he can enable him to fulfill his own command, in which he says, Be therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect. Matthew, verse 48, But there is one plateau higher still which, like a table-land, covers the entire summit of the mountain. And that the maturity stage. Here the graces of the Spirit have been perfected. Experience and faith and obedience and the soul does the will of God as it is done in heaven, united in the eternal companionship of that lovely being, the Spirit of purity. What do you say to my holy mountain, my comrades? Are you living up there? Have you climbed as near to heaven as that represents? If not, I want to make a declaration which you have often heard before, but which it will do you no harm to hear again, namely, that it is the will of God that you should not only reach the very summit, but that you should abide there. Do you ask why God wills that you should reach and abide on this holy mountain? I reply it is the will of God that you and I and every other officer in this blessed army should be holy for his own satisfaction. God finds pleasure in holy men and holy women. We know what it is to find pleasure in kindred companions. It is to like to be near them, to want to live with them or have them live with us. It is to be willing to travel any distance or put ourselves to any inconvenience to reach them. According to the Bible, that is just how God feels towards his faithful people. He finds satisfaction in their doings and praying and worship and song, but when there is unfaithfulness or sin of any kind, this pleasure is sadly marred, if not altogether destroyed. In such cases the pleasure is turned to pain, the satisfaction turned to loathing, and the love to hatred. Here what he says of Israel. In all their affliction he was afflicted, and the angel of his presence saved them. In his love and in his pity he bear them, and carried them all the days of old. If for no other reason than the pleasure it will give to God, don't you think every officer should, with all his might, seek for holiness of heart and life? Another reason why God wants you to live on that blessed mountain is the interest he feels in your welfare. He loves you. He has told you so again and again. He has proved his love by his deeds. Love compels the being entertaining the affliction to seek the good of its object. He knows that sin is the enemy of your peace, and must mean misery here and hereafter. For this reason, among others, he wants to deliver you from it. You will remember that, by the lips of Peter, God told the Jews that he had raised up his son, Jesus, and sent him to bless them by turning every one of them away from his iniquities. That applies to you, my comrades. You have heard it before, I tell it you again. This is the royal road to peace, contentment, and joy for you. The love God bears you, therefore, makes him ceaselessly long after your holiness of heart and life. Will you not let him have his way? Will you not do his will? God wants every officer to be holy in order that through him he may be able to pour his holy spirit upon the people to whom that officer ministers. The men and women around you are in the dark. Oh, how ignorant they are of God and everlasting things! They cannot see the vile nature of the evil, and the foul character of the fiends that tempt and rule them. They do not see the black ruin that lies before them. So on they go, the blind leading the blind, till over the precipice they fall together. God wants their eyes to be opened. The spirit can do the work, and through you he wants to pour the light. The men and women around you are weak. They cannot stand up against their own perverted appetites, the charms of the world, or the devices of the devil. God wants to pour the spirit of power upon this helpless crowd. But he wants holy people through whom he can convey that strength. He works his miracles by clean people. That is his rule. There is nothing in the work of the early apostles more wonderful than the miraculous manner in which they went about breathing the spirit of life and light and power on the people. But they were fully consecrated. Blood and fire men and women. What do you say, my comrades, will you be holy mediums? Do you not answer, thy will be done? God wants you to be holy in order that you may reveal him to the world by your example. Men do not believe in God, that is, the real God, the God of the Bible, and they do not believe in him because they do not know him. He seeks to reveal himself to men in various ways. He reveals himself through the marvels of the natural world, and many say they can see God in the sun, and stars, and seas, and trees. He reveals himself by speaking to men in their own hearts, and many hear his whisperings there. He reveals himself in his own book, and some read and ascertain what is his mind there. But alas the great multitude are like children. They require to see and hear God revealed before their very eyes in visible and practical form before they will believe. And to reach these crowds, God wants men and women to walk about the world so that those around, believers and unbelievers alike, shall see the form and hear the voice of the living God. People who shall be so like him in spirit and life and character as to make the crowds feel as though the very shadow of God had crossed their path. Will you be a shadow of God? God wants you to be holy in order that you may know what his mind is about the world and about your work in it. He entertains certain opinions and feelings with respect to it. He has his own plan for saving it. He wants to reveal to you what those opinions and feelings are, and to do this so far as it will be good for you and those about you. He wants you to know how you can best fight devils, convict sinners, save souls, and bless the world. You can have this wonderful knowledge. Paul had it. He said, we, that is, I, have the mind of Christ. God is no respecter of persons. He is as willing to reveal his mind to you, so far as you need it, as he was to reveal it to Paul. But to possess this knowledge you must be holy. Sin darkens the understanding and hinders the perception of truth. A grain of sand in the eye will prevent you seeing the most beautiful landscape in the universe or the dearest friends you have. It is with the heart that men see divine things, and an atom of sin will darken the brightest vision that can come before you. With a pure heart you can not only see God's truth, but God Himself. Oh, God wants to reveal Himself to you. Will you let Him? But if He is to do so, you must have a clean heart. It is God's will that you should be holy because He wants you to be men and women of courage. Courage is the most valuable quality in this war. There are few gifts of greater importance. Only think what it has enabled the prophets, the apostles, and the salvation leaders of modern times to accomplish. How it covered Moses and Joshua and David and Daniel and Paul and a crowd of others with glory, and enabled them to conquer men and devils and difficulties of all kinds. I shall have something more to say about this before I have done. Courage and holiness are linked closely together. You cannot have one without the other. Sin is the very essence of weakness, a little selfishness, a little insincerity, a little of anything that is evil means condemnation and loss of courage, which means cowardice and failure. The wicked flea when no man pursues, double-minded people are uncertain, fickle, unreliable in all their ways. The righteous are bold as a lion. Remember Shadrach, Meshach, Abdenego. Shadrach wants you to be holy in order that he may do mighty works through your instrumentality. I barely believe that his arm is held back from working wonders through the agency of many officers, because he sees that such success would be their ruin. The spirit of Nebuchadnezzar is in them. He cannot build Babylon, or London, or New York, or anything else by their instrumentality, because he sees it would create the spirit of vanglory and boasting, or of ambition, make them dissatisfied with their position, or otherwise curse them and those about them. Look at Saul, what a lesson his history has in it for us all. When thou wast little in thine own sight, wast thou not made the head of the tribes of Israel, and the Lord anointed thee king over Israel? Now I may be asked whether some officers do not fail to reach the higher ranges of the experience I have here described, and the reason for this. To this question I reply that I am afraid that it is only too true that some officers are to be found who are willing to dwell in the land of uncertainty and feebleness. They are the slaves of habits they condemn in others. Their example is marred, their powers are weakened for their work, and instead of going onward and upward to the victory they believe so gloriously possible, they are a disappointment to themselves, to God, and to their leaders. If I am asked to name the reasons for their neglect of this glorious privilege, I would say they have doubts about the possibility of living this life of holiness. They think there is some fatal necessity laid upon them to sin, at least a little, or just now and then. They think that God cannot, or that he will not, or that he has not arranged to save them altogether from their inward evils. They know that the Bible says over and over again in the thousand different ways that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses from all sin, and they read God's promise again and again that he will pour out his spirit upon them to save them from all their idols and filthiness. But they doubt whether it is strictly true, or anyway whether it applies to them, and so, tossed to and fro by doubts about this holy experience, no wonder that they do not seek to realize it in their own hearts. Other officers are kept back from claiming this mountain by the idea that the experience is not possible for them. They say, oh yes, it is good, it is beautiful, I wish I lived up there. How delightful it must be to have peace flow like a river, and righteousness abound as the waves of the sea, and to be filled with the Spirit. But such a life is not for me. They admit the possibility of holiness in those about them, and occasionally they push it on their acceptance. But they fancy that there is something about their own case that makes it impossible, or at least overwhelmingly difficult for them to attain it. They imagine that there is something in their nature that makes it peculiarly difficult for them to be holy, some peculiar twist in their minds, some disagreeable disposition, some bad awkward temper, some unbelieving tendency, or they are hindered by something that they supposed to be specially unfavorable in their circumstances, their family, or there is something in their history that they think is opposed to their living pure lives. They have failed in their past efforts, etc. Anyway, there is, they imagine, some insurmountable obstacle to their walking with Christ in white. And instead of striking out for the summit of the holy mountain in desperate and determined search, relying on God's word that all things are possible to him that believeth, they give up, and settle down to the notion that holiness of heart and life is not for them. Even other officers do not reach this experience because they do not seek it. That is, they do not seek it with all their hearts. They do not climb. They know that their Bible most emphatically asserts that those who seek heavenly blessings shall find them. No passage is more familiar to their minds, or much more frequently on their lips, than the one spoken by Jesus Christ, seek and ye shall find. And they condemn the poor sinner who lies rotting in the sins which will carry him to hell because he won't put forth a little effort to find deliverance, and yet do not some officers act very much after the same fashion with respect to this blessing? In their efforts they are truly sincere, but they are not much more forward for them. They say, it is not for me, and settle down as they were. The reason for this is not that the promise is not to them, but it is because they have not been thorough in their surrender, or because they have been wanting in their belief, or because they do not persevere, or because they have been mistaken in some past experience. Another reason why officers do not find the blessing is the simple fact that they will not pay the price. There is something they will not do, or there is something they will do, or there is something they will not part with. There is some doubtful thing that they will not give up. The sacrifice is too great. They think they would not be happy, or someone else would not be happy, or something would not be satisfactory. And so they look and look at the mountain, and long and long, but that is all. They would like to be there, but the price is too great. Another reason why officers fail is neither more nor less than their want of faith. This with sincere souls is by far the most common hindrance. I have something to say about faith further on. And doubtless the reason that some officers fail to reach the upper levels of Mount Purity arises out of their mistaken views as to the nature of this experience. You have so often heard me dwell on this view of the subject that I despair of saying anything fresh that will help you. But knowing that I am on ground where truly sincere souls are often hindered, I will make one or two remarks. I have no doubt that many fail here by confounding temptation with sin. They pray, they consecrate, they believe that they receive and they rejoice. But by and by when bad thoughts are suggested to their minds they say to themselves, Oh, I can't be saved from sin, or I would not have all those wicked thoughts and suggestions streaming through my soul. They confound temptation with sin. Whatever they may say about it they do not see the difference existing between temptation and sin. Some officers are hindered in the fight for holiness by supposing that purity will deliver them from serious depression, low spirits, and the like. With many sincere souls I have no doubt that one of the most serious hindrances in this strife is the confounding of holiness with happiness, and thinking that if they are holy they will be happy all the time, whereas the master himself was a man of sorrows, and lived more or less a life of grief. Then there comes the last reason I shall notice, and that is the want of perseverance. There are some officers who have been up the mountain, part of the way at any rate, if not to the top, but through disobedience or want of faith they have no longer the experience they once enjoyed. The condition you say to senators that they are never to give up, I do at least, so with those who are seeking holiness. They must persevere, or they will never find it. CHAPTER XIII None of us have yet any idea how voluminous a writer the general was, because so much of his writing was in the form of contributions to our many publications or of letters to officers. We can only insert here a few specimens of what he wrote at various dates, and remark that in private letters there was always the very same flow of happy earnest life, the same high ideal as finds expression in the following extracts. In his Orders and Regulations for Field Officers, he says, it must always be remembered by the field officer, and by everyone who is desirous of producing any great moral or spiritual changes in men, that the example of the individual attempting this task will be much more powerful than the doctrines they set forth, or any particular methods they adopt for teaching those doctrines, however impressive these may be. The correctness of this statement has been proved over and over again in this Salvation War. Everywhere the people measure the truth and importance of what the field officer says, by their estimate of his character. If he produces the impression in their minds that he is a mere talker or performer, they may listen to his message, and if he has more than ordinary ability, treat him with a degree of respect. But if this be all, he will be next to powerless in affecting any great change in their hearts and lives. On the other hand, where the life of the field officer convinces his soldiers that he is himself what he wants them to be, truly devoted to God, it will be found that he will possess a marvelous mastery over their hearts and characters. In other words, if he makes his soldiers feel that he is real and consecrated, he will be able to lead them almost at will. They will follow him to the death. The same shot, with the same charge of gunpowder from a rifled cannon, will produce ten times a greater effect than from one with a smooth bore. The make of the gun gives the extra force to the shot. Just in the same way, the truth from the lips of a man whom his hearers believed to be holy and true will strike with a hundredfold more force than the same message will from another who has not so commended himself. The character of the man gives the extra force to the truth. The field officer, by virtue of his position, stands out before his soldiers more prominently than any other man. To them he is the ambassador and representative of God. He is their captain, their brother, and friend. Their eyes are on him night and day. They regard him as the pattern expressly set for them to copy, the leader who at all times it is their bounden duty to follow. How important it is, therefore, that every officer should be careful to perfect his character to the utmost in order that he may be useful to the fullest extent. The field officer must lead his soldiers on to the full realization of the baptism of the Holy Ghost. He must make them blood and fire. The work of the Spirit is to fill the soul with burning zeal for the salvation of the world. Christ's work must be finished. He has left that task to his people. It can only be continued and carried on to completion by his Spirit working in the hearts and through the lives of his people. The Holy Ghost was promised for this end. This is what his people have, therefore, a right to expect, and without it they are powerless for the war. In order that his soldiers may be effective, the field officer must not only act for the purification of his soldiers, but to have them filled with the Spirit of Christ in order that they may be competent for the mighty work they have to accomplish. This will make them wise. They will understand how to fight, what to say, what to sing, how to pray, how to talk to the consciences and hearts of men. The Spirit of God will lead them into right methods of action, will show them how to make opportunities, and how to put these opportunities to the best use when they are made. The Holy Spirit will give them perseverance, keeping them going on in the face of difficulty. The Holy Spirit will give them power, making them not only willing to endure the cross, but to glory in it. The Holy Spirit will give them the fire of love, the terrific Spirit, the live coal from off the altar, making them both burn and shine. With this they will come to knee-drill, to the open air, to face mocking crowds, and to endure the scorn and hatred and persecution of men, not merely from a sense of duty, dragging themselves to it because it is the will of God, or for the good of the army, or as an example to their comrades, or even for the salvation of souls, but because they love it and cannot stay away. This baptism will be a fire in their bones, which must have vent. It will be a spirit that must have a voice. It will be a love, a burning love in the heart, which all the waters that earth and hell can pour upon it cannot quench, a love with which no other love can compare. It will be the Savior again loving a dying world through His people. It will be Christ indeed come again in the flesh. The soldiers must be baptized with fire. It will give them the soldier's spirit, and, with that, all a soldier needs in the way of drill and duty and sacrifice will inevitably follow. In his letter to his officers on his eightieth birthday, he wrote, On the coming tenth of April, in many lands and in many ways, the officers, soldiers, and friends of the Salvation Army will be celebrating my eightieth birthday. The occasion is one which inspires in me many deep emotions, and next to the gratitude I feel to Almighty God for the unmeasured blessings He has been pleased to vowshave to me, I find the desire to write and tell you, my dear officers, something of the love and sympathy ever welling up in my heart toward you. The times and friends of long ago are sometimes said to have been brighter or better than those of today. This may have been the experience of some, it has not been mine. It is true that in the early years of my Salvation Warfare there were battlings and victories of deep interest and value, but no conflicts or triumphs in those far back times exceeded or indeed equalled in value and interest the conflicts and triumphs of my later days. It is true that from the beginning I have been associated with many remarkable men and women, men and women whose ability, affection, and devotion to God have been of the greatest service to me. But with perhaps one or two exceptions, I have had no co-workers who have excelled or even equalled in ability, in affection, or devotion, the comrades who at the present hour are struggling with me all over the world for the highest well-being of their fellows and for the advancement of the kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ. Sixty-five years ago I chose the salvation of men and the extension of the kingdom of Jesus Christ as the supreme object for which I would live and labor, although that choice was made in my early youth in much ignorance of the world and of the religious needs of those about me, still it was not arrived at without much thought and some information, and that purpose is still and will be to the end, the object which has shaped and mastered the thoughts, ambitions, and activities of my whole life. From the hour of my first prayer meetings in one of the cottage homes of my native town, down to the present moment, that object has been the governing principle of my life. The adornments and flowers and music and other pleasant things connected with religious service have all been secondary to efficiency in the search for that object and success in attaining it. My hourly usage, with regard to every effort I put forth, has been to ask myself, what does this action contemplate? What will it achieve? Can it be improved upon? I believe I can say that every conversation in prayer and song and address and meeting I have had a hand in have been valued in proportion to their ability to promote the realization of that great purpose. No greater mistake can be made with respect to the Salvation Army than to suppose that it is not a school for thought. Perhaps more theories have been produced and more schemes invented by us for gaining the highest ends of the Christian faith, bearing in mind our age and the extent of our work, than by any other religious movement in existence. Indeed, as I have often said in public, when we have so many thousands of hearts inflamed with the love of Christ for sinning, suffering, and dying men, and possessed with a passionate desire for their rescue, you must have the constant evolution of new plans and contrivances for that purpose. But while thus inventive, the Army does not content itself with hopes and theories merely. It seeks to put every fresh idea to the test of practical application waiting for the issue before it regards it of permanent value. At least that has been my own usage, and the practical character of my mind and work has come to be generally allowed. While then I glory in the fact that our religion is divine in origin and manifestation, I equally maintain the necessity for human skill, human energy, and human enterprise in the efforts put forth to establish an extended. And accordingly, I have only adopted any efforts so far as they have proved themselves effective in the school of experience. So with this confidence in my convictions, I proceed once more to push them upon your attention. In the Orders and Regulations for Soldiers, perhaps the concise's description of Ernest's living ever written, he says, The salvation soldier must have been converted or changed by the power of the Holy Spirit from the old, worldly, selfish, sinful nature to the new, holy, heavenly, divine nature. And not only must he thus have received a new heart, but he must have the Holy Spirit living in that heart, possessing it and working through it to will and to do the good pleasure of God. This is the first and main condition of soldiership. It is understood that every soldier has come into the possession of this true religion by passing through that change which is usually described in the army as being saved. There is nothing more common throughout our ranks than the expression, I am glad I am saved. As it is impossible for a salvation soldier to perform the duties hereafter set forth with satisfaction to himself and profit to others, unless this change has been experienced, it will be well to describe it rather particularly, so that every soldier who reads these regulations will be able to satisfy himself whether he has really undergone this change. If on reading this description, any soldier should have reason to believe that he has not experienced this change and is still in his sins or that he has been unfaithful since he did realize it and is therefore a backslider, the first business of such a one will be to go to God and seek salvation, otherwise it will be impossible for him to be a good soldier. Salvation implies the devotion of the whole life to the accomplishment of the purpose for which Christ lived and suffered and died. It means that the soldier becomes his disciple. Enlisting in his army the soldier receives not only power to walk in his commandments for himself, but to subdue other men to the Lord. His new nature now continually cries out, What wilt thou have me do? and carries him forth with the feet of cheerful obedience in the service of his new master, to weep and suffer, and, if necessary, to die, to bring others into the enjoyment of the salvation which he himself has found. He lives the same kind of life and is actuated by the same purposes as God himself. End of Section 35. Recording by Tom Hirsch. Section 36. The General as a writer. Part 2. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Hirsch. In Religion for Every Day, he writes, I am always talking to you about what we call religious duties, such as praying and singing, making efforts to save your own soul and the souls of the people about you. In these letters I propose speaking of the things that men call secular, and which many people reckon have nothing to do with religion. But I want to show you, if I can, that the salvation is conduct ought in every particular to be religious. Every meal he partakes of should be a sacrament, and every thought and deed a service done to God. In doing this, you will see that I shall have to deal with many quite commonplace subjects, and in talking about them, I shall try to be as simple and as practical as I possibly can. The first topic to which I shall call your attention is your daily employment. And by that, I mean the method by which you earn your livelihood. Or supposing that having some independent means of support, you are not compelled to labor for your daily bread. Then I shall point out that special form of work, the doing of which Providence has plainly made to be your duty, because it is difficult to conceive of any salvationist who has not some regular employment for which he holds himself responsible to God. Work is a good thing, my comrades. To be unemployed is generally counted an evil. Anyway, it is so in the case of a poor man. But it seems to me that the obligation to be engaged in some honorable and useful kind of labor is as truly devolved upon the rich as upon the poor, perhaps more so. Work is necessary to the well-being of men and women of every class, everywhere. To be voluntarily idle, in any rank or condition of life, is to be a curse to others, and to be accursed yourself. You would utterly condemn me if you thought that I engaged in my work in the army merely to make a good show, or for some personal profit, and did not care about what God thought of the matter. My comrades, there are not two different standards of work, one for you and one for me. You must therefore be under the same obligation to do your work in the house, or in the mine, or in the warehouse, or wherever the Providence of God has placed you to please your heavenly master, as I am on the platform, in the council chamber, or wherever my duty may call me. But here another question arises. Do you accept Jesus Christ as your master in the affairs of your daily life? If not, of course, this part of my argument will be thrown away. But if you do, then it will be the most powerful of all. At the commencement of his ministry, Jesus Christ announced that he was about to establish the kingdom of heaven on earth. By the kingdom of heaven, he meant a kingdom consisting of heavenly government, heavenly laws, heavenly obedience, heavenly power, heavenly love, heavenly joy. These taken together constitute the chief characteristics of this kingdom. And instead of being confined, as it had been hitherto, to a handful of people in Jerusalem and Judea, it was to cover the whole earth. Now the subject of that kingdom must accept Jesus Christ as their master and lord. No one can either come into that kingdom or remain in it without compliance with this law. You cannot be a son without being a servant. But you have written yourselves down as his servants, and said you will no longer live unto yourselves, nor to please the world, but to do the will of him who has redeemed you, that is to please him. Now the master's province, everybody knows, is not only to choose the work of his servants, but to get it done, if possible, to his satisfaction. He has appointed me my work. He has arranged that I should direct the movements of this great army, preach salvation, write letters for you to read, save as many sinners as I can, and strive to get my soldiers safely landed on the celestial shore. Before all else, I must do this work as nearly as I can to satisfy my lord, and nothing short of the best work I can produce will accomplish that. And, as with me, so with you. He has chosen your work, if you have put your life into his hands, just as truly as he has chosen mine, although it may be of a different kind. I am writing this letter in the train. I am a poor writer at best. When I was a child, my schoolmaster neglected to teach me to hold my pen properly. In this respect he did not do good work, and I have had to suffer for it ever since. Still I am doing my work as well as I can, in order that it may profit you and please my lord. In settling how much work he will do, a man must have due regard to the claims of his own health. If he rushes at his work without due discretion, and does more than his strength will reasonably allow, he will probably break down, and so prevent his working altogether, or for a season at least. Whereas if he exhausts no more energy than he can recover by sleep and food and rest, at the time he can go steadily forward, and by doing so accomplish a great deal more in the long run, then he would by temporary extravagant exertion. When speaking on this subject, I sometimes say that I use my body as I should use a horse, if I had one. That is, I should not seek to get the most labor out of him for a week regardless of the future. But I should feed and manage him with a view of getting the most I could get out of him all the year round. That is doubtless the way a man should use his body, and to do this he should take as much time for his food and daily rest as is necessary to replace the energies he has used up by his work. In the leisure taken for this purpose, it will be necessary to have specified hours, as otherwise those who are without principle will take advantage of the week, and anything like system will be impossible. Then again, when the proper performance of a particular task depends upon the united labor of a number of individuals who have agreed to work in cooperation, it will be necessary, in the interests of the whole, that each should conform to the regulations laid down, always supposing that such rules are in harmony with truth and righteousness. The wishes and interests of employers have also to be taken into consideration, but in every case the principle is equally obligatory upon all. These duties will demand, and must have devoted to them, a measure of the time at our control. What that amount of time shall be must be determined by the relative importance of those duties. For instance, there is the work a man can do for his earthly employers, over and above the amount that is considered to be a strict and just return for his wages. Here again he must be guided by Jesus Christ's rule, and to do unto his master as he would that his master should do unto him. There is the work that he ought to do for his family, apart and beyond the bare earnings of their daily bread. This is his work which no one else can do so well, and which, if it be neglected by him, will probably not be done at all. There is the effort that every workman should put forth for his own personal improvement. For instance, a youth of seventeen works, we will say, ten hours a day for his employer, who would very much like him to put in another hour at the same task, and would be willing to pay him extra for doing so. This we will suppose the youth could do without any injurious effect to his health. But then, by reading his Bible, or cultivating his mind, he might qualify himself to become an officer, or to fill some other important position. In either case, fitting himself for a field of greater usefulness in the future than the one he already occupies. Under such circumstances, it must be the duty of that youth to take that hour for his own improvement, rather than to use it to enrich his master or increase his earnings. Then every soldier of Jesus Christ must duly consider and obey the claims of the Salvation War. That is, he must strive to take his fair share in that conflict, whether he is his own master, having the direct control of his time, or whether he works for an employer who only allows him many hours for leisure. He must conscientiously devote much of that time as he can to saving his fellow man. Settling this question, he must use his common sense and claim the promised direction of the Holy Spirit. God will guide him. What I protest against here is the notion born of indolence and selfishness, which affirms that we should do little, rather than as much, work as is consistent with the maintenance of health, and with the claims arising out of the relations in which we stand to those about us. However, circumstances will transpire during the earthly career of every one of us, calling for self-sacrificing work that must be performed, regardless of consequences to health or any other interest. Supposing, by way of illustration, a ship has sprung a leak through which the water is rushing rapidly in, endangering the lives of both passengers and crew. Under such conditions, would not every man on board be justified in working night and day to prevent the threatened calamity? Nay, further, would not the laws of humanity call upon everyone concerned to do so at the risk of crippling themselves, or even sacrificing life itself, in order to gain the greater good of saving the vessel from destruction and rescuing a number of their fellows from a watery grave? My contention, then, is that whether in the shop or on the ship, in the parlor or in the kitchen, in the factory or in the field, on the salvation platform or in the coal mine, whether officers or soldiers, we are all alike as servants of God, under the obligation to do all we possibly can in the service of man, and to do it with the holy motive of pleasing our heavenly master. Here, let me review my warrant for requiring from you the kind of loving labor that I advocate. The Bible enjoins We have already quoted Paul's words to the Ephesians, in which he says that our work is to be done, not with eye service as men pleasers, but as the servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart, with good will doing service as to the Lord and not to men. That is all I ask for. It is enjoined by the doctrine of brotherly love. I cannot understand how anyone can suppose for a moment that he is living a life acceptable to God unless he is striving with all his might to fulfill the divine command. Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. Your master, or whoever has a claim upon your service, must be included in the term neighbor. And to comply with the command of the Savior, you must work for that master or mistress, as the case may be, from the voluntary principle of love rather than the earthly and selfish principle of gain. Is not the disinterested method I am urging upon you in keeping with the loftiest ideals the world possesses with respect to work? About whom does it write its poetry? Whom does it laud to the heavens in the pulpit, on the platform, and in the press? Whose name does it describe the highest in its temples of fame, or hand down to posterity as examples for rich and poor, old and young alike to follow? Is it the man who makes his own ease and enrichment his only aim in life, and who toils and spins for nothing higher than his own gratification? Nothing of the kind. It is the generous, self-sacrificing, disinterested being who uses himself up for the benefit of his fellows. Nay, at whom does that same world ceaselessly sneer, and whom does it most pitilessly despise? Is it not the mean and narrow spirit whose conduct is governed by selfish greed and sensual indulgences? Whatever may be its practice. In this respect, the sentiment of the world is in the right direction. It asks for benevolence, evidenced by unselfish labor, and admires it when it finds it. A paragraph went the round of the newspaper world a little time back, describing how an American millionaire had decided to spend the rest of his days on a leper island in the Pacific Ocean in order to labor for the amelioration of the miseries of its unfortunate inhabitants. Wonder and admiration everywhere greeted the announcement. Shall we go back on all this spirit of self- sacrifice? Shall this kind of thing die out or only have an existence in poetry books, platform quotations, or anecdote collections? Shall we change over to the pound of flesh principle and hire out the work of our hands and the thoughts of our minds and the burning passions of our souls for the largest amount of filthy lucre and the greatest measure of earthly comfort that we can obtain for them? So justifying the lying libel on humanity, long since spoken, and still often sneeringly quoted, that every man has his price? Or shall we say that love, the love of God and man, is the highest and divinest motive of labor, a motive possible not only to the sons and daughters of genius, but accessible to the plainest, humblest man or woman who suffers and toils on the lowest round of the letter of life? I argue in favor of this doctrine, on the ground of its profitableness to the worker. My readers will probably have asked long before this. How far do these propositions harmonize with the interests of the servant? Aught he not to take his own well-being into account? Certainly, he must have just as true a regard for his own welfare and the welfare of those depended upon him as he has for that of others. The command, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself, can only be rightly interpreted by another like unto it, which reads, Whatsoever you would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them? Therefore, he must ask that others should do unto him as he would do unto them, supposing they occupied changed positions. This must mean that, while righteously concerned for the interests of others, he must be reasonably concerned for his own. But here a little difficulty comes into our argument arising out of the play of the higher motives of affection. What does love care for gain in its calculations of service? The husband who loves his wife as Christ loved the Church, does not stop to consider the claims of duty or the advantages following its discharge in toiling for her welfare. He will be willing to die for her as Christ died for the Church. He does not say, I will toil for my delicate wife and deny myself pleasant things, in order to obtain for her the necessaries and comforts she requires, because she would do the same for me, if I were in her place and she were in mine. Nothing of the kind. The wife I spoke of, who told me the other day that she had not had her clothes off for seventeen days and nights in nursing her husband, did not make it appear that she thought she was doing anything extraordinary, or that she rendered this service to her companion in life because she felt sure that had he been the wife and she the husband, he would have gladly done the same for her. Had the newspapers thought that the American millionaire was going to the Lepper Island with his gold to make something out of it for himself and family, or to make a name in the world, instead of his being greeted with a chorus of admiration, there would have been a universal chorus of excretion and his selfishness. It was because they believed that he was going to make the sacrifice of his own gain, if not for his own self, for the benefit of the poor sufferers that they praised him. Supposing, however, that we come down to the low level of self-interest, we insist then that those who work from the motive of love, rather than the motive of gain, will not necessarily be sufferers in consequence so far as this world goes. But it may be asked, will not on principled masters or mistresses be likely to take advantage of this docile and unselfish spirit? Perhaps. Nay, doubtless in many cases they will. The Salvation Army has been taken advantage of all through its past history, and so have all the true saints of God, because they have submitted to wrong and have not fought the injustice and false representations and persecutions inflicted upon them from the beginning. It will possibly be so to the end, but that does not affect the principle for which I argue, which is that we must do good work, and as much of it as we can, regardless of what the world may give us in return. But I think I have sufficiently shown, as I have gone along, that this class of service is not without its earthly rewards, and that every interest of human nature, selfish and otherwise alike, testify to the probability of its proving profitable to those who practice it. If, however, the reward does not come in the form of money or houses or lands, there will be gain in that which is far more valuable than money and houses and lands, and which money and houses and lands cannot buy. There will be the gain in peace, in satisfaction, and in joy in the Holy Ghost in this life, to say nothing of the gain in the world to come. But on this point I shall have more to say another time. I remember hearing a gentleman relate the following incident in a large meeting. Some time back, he said, I was passing through the streets of Liverpool. It was a cold, raw, wintry day. The streets were ankle-deep in an unpleasant mixture of mud and ice, and battling through it all there came along a little procession of ragged, haggard, hungry-looking boys. Splash, splash, on they went, through freezing slush, at every step making the onlookers shudder as they stood by in their warm, comfortable coats and furs. In the front rank was a little fellow who was scarcely more than a bag of bones. Half naked, barefooted, his whole frame shivering every time he put his foot down on the melting snow. All at once a big boy came forward and, stooping down, bade the lad put his arms around his neck and, lifting him up on his back, took his perished feet, one in each hand, and jogged along with his burden. I was moved, said the speaker, at the sight, and going up to the boy commended him for his kindness. In his Lancashire brogue the lad replied, Aye, aye, sir, two feet in the cold slush are not so bad as four. After a while, said the speaker, I offered to carry the little chap myself. But the honest fellow shook his head and said, Nay, nay, mister, I went apart with him. I can carry him, and he's a woman on my back. And so, if seeking the good of others may not bring as much worldly gain as a selfish course of action, it does ensure that joyful warmth of heart which all loving service brings, and which is among the most valuable of all the treasures of earth or heaven. Every man who acts on this principle is adding to the general sum of human happiness. What is the sum of celestial happiness, the happiness of God and the happiness of the angels, the happiness of the bloodwashed spirits who are safely landed there? In what does this happiness chiefly consist? I reply, not in the golden streets, the unfading flowers, the marvelous music, nor all the other wonders of the celestial land put together, but in love. Love is the essence of the bliss of heaven, for love is heaven and heaven is love. This happiness we can have below. It is not the love others bear to us that makes our felicity, but the love we bear to them. And, thank God, we can as truly love on earth as we can in heaven. And then, as I have been saying all along, acting on this principle constitutes true religion. As labor done from selfish, fleshly motives is on the earth, and as the results which follow it will perish with the earth, even so labor done to bless mankind and to please God is divine, and the results flowing out of it must be everlasting honor and joy. Where this principle is carried into effect, every part of human conduct becomes religious, nay a positive act of divine worship, and an acceptable song of praise.