Church of England -- Sermons; Sermons, English -- 19th century
So St. Augustine believed, and the greatest fathers of old time. They
believed, and they have taught us to believe, that before all things,
above all things, beneath all things, is the divine charity, the love of
God, infinite as God is infinite, everlasting as God is everlasting; the
charity by which God made all worlds, all men, and all things, that they
might be blest as he is blest, perfect as he is perfect, useful as he is
useful; the charity which is God’s essence and Holy Spirit, which might
be content in itself, because it is perfectly at peace in itself; and yet
_cannot_ be content in itself, just because it is charity and love, and
therefore must be going forth and proceeding everlastingly from the
Father and the Son, upon errands of charity, love, and mercy, rewarding
those whom it finds doing their work in their proper place, and seeking
and saving those who are lost, and out of their proper place.
But what has this to do with the Gospel? Surely, my friends, it is not
difficult to see. In Jesus Christ our Lord, the eternal charity of God
was fully revealed. The veil was taken off it once for all, that men
might see the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, and know that the
glory of God is charity, and the Spirit of God is love.
There was a veil over that in old times; and the veil comes over it often
enough now. It was difficult in old times to believe that God was
charity; it is difficult sometimes now.
Sad and terrible things happen—Plague and famine, earthquake and war.
All these things have happened in our times. Not two months ago, in
Italy, an earthquake destroyed many thousands of people; and in India,
this summer, things have happened of which I dare not speak, which have
turned the hearts of women to water, and the hearts of men to fire: and
when such things happen, it is difficult for the moment to believe that
God is love, and that he is full of eternal, boundless, untiring charity
toward the creatures whom he has made, and who yet perish so terribly,
suddenly, strangely.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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