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XV.

Nothing to Pay!"*

"There was a certain creditor which had two debtors: the one owed five hundred pence, and the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both. Tell Me, therefore, which of them will love him most ? Simon answered and said, I suppose that he to whom he forgave most. And He said unto him, Thou hast rightly judged. And He turned to the woman, and said unto Simon, Seest thou this woman? ”—LUKE vii. 41-44.

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HERE is one thing that is needful in all true religionthere is no religion without it—and that is love towards God. It is quite true that some Christians love God more than others. It is quite true, perhaps, that none of us love Him as well as we should; but if there be not real love in our hearts towards God, we are no true Christians. Now this love is represented to us, in Holy Scripture, as springing from a very definite source; it arises from the love which God has towards us. "We love Him because He first loved us;" and only as we realize His love towards us, shall we really, from the heart, love Him. We may profess to love Him, but if we have not believed in His love towards us, and trusted our soul to it, our love to Him will be a fiction. Now how does God show us this love of His towards us? Wherein does the manifestation of it consist? He shows it to us in a great many different ways. There are none of us that have not been partakers of His mercy. The sun that shines upon us, the rain that waters our lands, all the various incidents of His providence, are all so many tokens of God's love. But God's love is a personal thing, and it manifests itself in communicating personal favor. And the very first great manifestation of His love that He desires to make to every one of us is, that He sees our first great need, and seeks to relieve it. Our first great need is, that we should be freed from that terrible load of sin, which, if we continue to be burdened * Preached at Stanmer Church, on Saturday evening, January 22nd, 1876.

with it, must sink our souls down to irretrievable ruin. If we love anybody, and if that person is afflicted by some terrible misfortune, it is only natural that we should try to deliver him from the influence of that misfortune; in fact, it would be most unnatural if we did not do so, and were we prevented from doing so by the person whom we wished to relieve, his refusal to receive the favors we desire to offer, would be an act of opposition to the love on our part, which we were already beginning to display; thus the result would be that love on his side, at any rate, would be rendered impossible, because he refused to receive the manifestation of our love which we made towards him.

Now, on this present occasion, our blessed Lord brings this consideration very pointedly before us—that our love to Him is to spring from a definitely accepted benefit; and, in order to impress upon our minds the nature of this benefit, He tells us a little story. Let us look at this story for a few minutes. The circumstances which called forth this parable are, I dare say, familiar to you all. You remember that when our Lord was at a Pharisee's house there came a poor, sinful woman behind him weeping, and she watered His feet with her tears, and wiped them with the hair of her head, and took a box of costly ointment and poured it upon Him. There she lay, sobbing. Our Lord was at the house of a Pharisee, a proud, self-righteous, self-satisfied man, who, as he looked at this. poor, sorrowful woman, began to reason in his heart: "This man cannot be a prophet: if He were, He would understand that this woman approaching so near Him is a sinner—a woman of the street, no fit person to come into His presence; had He really been what He professes to be, He would have spurned her from Him, as He ought to do with such a creature as that." As our Lord reads the man's thoughts, He replies. by telling Him this little story to which I want to call your attention. Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee.' Master, say on." Now, if the Lord Jesus Christ were occupying this pulpit to-night, I think He would speak somewhat in this fashion, and that we should hear His voice saying to many of us, "I have somewhat to say unto thee." He has got something to say to us. Oh, let us endeavour to hear, not man's voice, but what Jesus has to say, and let His words. sink deeply into our hearts. What is it?

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Well, He says, that there were two debtors, and that the

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one owed a very large sum, and the other a comparatively small sum, to a common creditor. The one owed fifty pence, and the other owed five hundred pence. Now, fifty pence does not sound a very large sum to your ears, but it was a considerable sum of money in those days. The value of money has altered so much, and the coins represent such different values in our times from what they did then, that the sum actually named here is a very much more considerable one than it seems to us. I do not know that the five hundred pence would be so large a sum as a hundred pounds, but it would not be far short of it. You remember the parable of the labourers in the vineyard, when a penny a day was considered very good wages. Of course that would not do in this country, where it would be five or six shillings. If you will compute, at that proportion, what the figure must have been that is represented by the five hundred pence, I think you will come to the conclusion that it must have been a good round sum, something like eighty or a hundred pounds. Now this debtor seems to have been a poor, labouring man, who had no means of paying; his case was utterly hopeless. The other owed only fifty pence, which was a very much smaller sum, perhaps ten or twelve pounds. There was a possibility of his scraping that together; still, it was a nasty thing to get so much behind-hand, and no doubt he felt very uncomfortable about it. These two debtors have got to square up their accounts; the thing cannot be allowed to run on any longer; they must make their appearance before the creditor, and get the thing settled. How is it to be settled? Cannot you fancy what those two men went through? They would not each go through the same experience. There was a great difference between their cases. man. You can fancy his saying to himself: "Well, it is a nasty thing, this little debt of mine; I wish I had not got so much behind-hand; I do not quite know how I am going to clear it off, but I must try: perhaps my creditor will be content with a few instalments; if I pay him half a crown a week for such a time I shall begin to make a hole in the debt, and, ultimately, he may get it all: I must cast myself on his forbearance." The other can indulge in no such hope. Let one of you-a poor, labouring man, earning fifteen or eighteen shillings a week-put himself in that man's position. Just imagine yourself encumbered with a debt of a hundred

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pounds. How hopeless a thing it would seem to you; all your efforts to clear it off must fail; you might work almost to death, and yet the debt would be there still. We can fancy what took place in that man's house as the reckoning day drew near. The debt laws in those countries, you know, were terribly severe. If a man did not pay his debt he was liable to be sold as a slave, his children, his goods, and everything that he possessed; he might be separated from all who were nearest to him, and have all his tenderest ties of family relationship broken up. It must have been a terrible time, a dark, miserable week, that he spent before the day of reckoning came. I suppose he went round to borrow a little money, and made one effort after another to get what he wanted. People are not very willing to lend money in these days, and they were not more willing in those days. Cannot you conceive him coming home weary and sick at heart? He has done his very best; he has tried to raise the money, and all his trying has left him just as poor as he was before. What is he to do? His feeling is one of hopelessness. The prison looms up in view; he will be sold, and all that he hath, his children will be torn from him; his little home will be broken up. How desolate the man feels! The inexorable hours are creeping along; the reckoning moment comes nearer and nearer; he cannot stave it off any longer; he has to go up to the house of the rich man and settle his account, -settle it to the last farthing. He has made every effort he possibly can, but all his efforts end in disappointment. He has "nothing to pay." Follow him with your eye; see how sad he looks as he takes leave of his wife and children. "I suppose this is the last day of our home life; no more smiling home; no more domestic pleasure. Farewell all the joys of the past! I do not suppose you will see me again. I am going up to the great man's house; he is tolerably sure to have his officers there, and they will lay hold of me. You must do the best you can for yourself. They will sell you as a slave; you must try and make yourself comfortable. If they don't sell you, you must struggle on in this weary world, and try and make the best of it. I don't suppose you will see me again. I shall be taken off to prison." There is no hope. The man has got a load on his heart. Try to make him happy if you can. Go and talk cheerfully to him. Tell him to have good hope, to keep up his courage, and that sort of

thing. You cannot bring a smile to the man's face; he looks as miserable as he can be. Still he has got to go; the time

has come when he must face his creditor.

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On his way he meets the other man, and he asks him what his business is. 'Well," says he, "I have got an awkward affair-not very serious, but still awkward; I have a nasty little debt that I cannot settle; I am sure I don't know how the creditor will treat me; there are those fifty pence that I owe him; I know he has a right to exact them to the very last farthing, and I have nothing to pay;' I do not know how he will deal with me." "Well, what are you going to do?" “Oh, I am going to make a few proposals to him, and see if I cannot get him to take a few instalments, so that I may pay him off by degrees. What is your case, my poor fellow? You look very sad." "Oh, mine is a far more serious case than yours. I owe him five hundred pence, and I have 'nothing to pay,' either. I have tried all my friends, but I cannot raise the money. I have done everything I possibly can, but I have not a farthing to pay." So they go along together, both feeling very miserable, but not equally so. The one man has reached the point of despair; the other man still has hope. The one man feels that, do what he may, he cannot redeem himself; the other thinks that by a little judicious effort, by a little vigorous struggle, he may get himself out of the difficulty. That is the difference. They are both debtors, both within the strong arm of the law, and both liable to be sold for their debt, for both have "nothing to pay."

At length they reach the great man's house. They are shown into his stately hall, and there they wait to see their creditor. Miserable moments they were, moments of agony to that poor man who owed five hundred pence. With every creak of the door he thinks, "There! he is coming;" and his heart sinks within him. At last the great man stands before them. "Well," he says, "have you got your money?" They both hang down their heads. Turning to one he says, "Have you got your fifty pence?" "No, sir, I have not got it." "Why have you not got it?" "Well, sir, the truth is, I have got no money—I am a bankrupt—I have nothing to pay.' Then, turning to the other, he says, "What have you got to say for yourself? Have you got your five hundred pence?' His head hangs down; tears come into the strong man's eyes; his body quivers with emotion; he can hardly control himself.