Influence.

 
IT is a terrible thing to be borne away by popular currents. I know nothing more calculated to disturb the serenity of the mind, than having it swept by every wind that crosses the surface of human society. Indeed as one that really knows what man is, what the human heart is, would trust its tides for one moment; and yet nothing is more difficult, in times of particular excitement, than to remain undisturbed, and above the level of surrounding influences. Were we not ourselves human, we should not feel this; and it is a proof of our weakness and inability to sustain ourselves in anything like moral elevation, that we do so feel it. However humbling this consideration may be, for the Christian it is a salutary, one, for it teaches him not to trust in himself, but to rely for strength and peace on the Lord alone, who brings blessing to him out of everything.
The free gift of all things God has bestowed upon His people. But it is with His Son. This unspeakable gift, this Christ, once received, all blessing follows in His train. Towards a lost world this marvelous kindness was directed, the full proof that God himself is Love. But the up-heaving sea of human depravity, rolling itself in madness against that Blessed One, nailed Him to the ignominious cross. Thus was love met by hatred, Divine goodness by human wickedness. Yet was not the love quenched thereby, but shone out the more brightly, surviving death, and such a death; yea, living still to be the plague of death―the destruction of the grave; living in resurrection that man might rise; living in heavenly glory that man might share that glory―might enjoy it through an endless day. This was love eternal, unquenchable, divine love; and Jesus, God’s own Son, is He in whom it dwells. He is the living One―the incorruptible God. In Him is rest, peace, heavenly blessedness, without alloy.
The heart of man is a dark gulph. He does not, himself, see half that is, in it. What fills the world with wrongs, oppressions, cruelties, woes? What makes the world a wilderness to the reflective mind, to the heart that has tasted good, and cannot be satisfied without it? The answer is not difficult to find: it is the selfishness of man that produces misery. Man, in his natural state, is a thorough desolator of the earth he treads on. When I say his natural state, I don’t mean his primitive state, for that was uprightness. His Maker pronounced him good; yea, very good, as all His works were when coming from His hand; and this fact, the goodness of the Creator, is abundantly witnessed by the rain from heaven, the fruitful seasons, the wonderful adaptation of every part of creation to its respective use; heaven and earth alike declaring the goodness, wisdom, power of Him who made them. Man, however, has got wrong, become a moral ruin. Falling from his first estate in Eden, through disobedience to the will of God, he presents, to the unfallen hosts of heaven, the sad spectacle of a lost and undone sinner; yet, so strangely insensible to his condition, so besotted by the wiles of the cruel tempter, by whom he was at first beguiled, that he heeds not, on the one hand, the truth that would rouse him to a sense of his condition, nor the whispers of conscience on the other, that all is not right between himself and God. And here again I would press the exceeding value of Holy Scripture as the oracles of God to man in this condition, the only light, in short, that can guide him or shed a ray of hope upon his soul. I know that these are made effectual to a man’s conversion only through the power of the Holy Spirit, who makes known to man what he himself is, and what God is in the person of Jesus Christ, the one blessed and only Saviour of the lost children of Adam. I am not insensible to the existence of a natural conscience in man, a sense of right and wrong in matters between man and man, often found in a higher degree in one than another. These moral differences I fully own, though how far circumstances may have operated in fostering or repressing them, would be, no doubt, an interesting question. I have met with noble instances of generosity, the fruit of Christian love for the most part, but some, perhaps, where natural kindness and affection prompted the act. One cannot always tell. But these things are the exceptions, not the rule, in speaking of man as he is. The rule is selfishness, and selfishness leads to wrong doing. I have looked at man as a whole, represented in the first man, in the aspect which he presents morally towards his Maker. That Adam was saved eternally (as an individual) from the consequences of the fall, I have not a doubt. God promised the seed of the woman, and His victory over the destroyer; and Adam believed God’s word. This is salvation. Faith in God’s word always is, when it is the faith of the heart, for a lost sinner has no resource but in God’s remedy, and God’s remedy is an uplifted Christ―a Christ crucified in weakness, yet living by the power of God. “For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.” Man universally is in need of this salvation, for as regards the blessed God, there has been a universal revolt from Him on the part of man, the carrying out or development of that fallen nature that came out of Eden, as it is written, “All have sinned and come short of the glory of God.” But we may look at individual men, and here an immense variety of character presents itself. As in external features, no two will be found precisely alike, so each mind will probably have some distinguishing characteristics which will always mark it as being itself, and no other. Of course we know that there are strong minds and weak ones, that the former will leave their impress in very considerable measure on the latter, whenever there is contact between them, and no small part of human history is made up of these effects; but it is not the less true, that individuality remains, and will remain, as I believe, ever. I follow this no further for the moment, but the subject is so interesting so much is involved in it, that I hope (D.V.) to return to it again.