The Master-Christian | Page 8

is as eternally true as that the sun shines in heaven,
and that it is only evil which creates misery. To think of himself in the
matter never occurred to him; had he for a moment entertained the
merest glimmering of an idea that he was better, and therefore happier
than most men, he would, in his own opinion, have been guilty of
unpardonable arrogance and presumption. What he saw, and what
sincerely and unselfishly grieved him, was that the people of this
present age were unhappy--discontented--restless,--that something of

the simple joy of existence had gone out of the world,- -that even the
brilliant discoveries of science and the so-called "progress" of men only
served apparently to increase their discontent,--that when they were
overcome by sorrow, sickness, or death, they had little philosophy and
less faith to support them,-- and that except in the few cases where
Christ was still believed in, they gave way altogether and broke down
like frightened children in a storm.
"Thou hast a few names, even in Sardis!" A few names! But how few!
Universal weariness of life seemed a disease of the time,--there was
nothing that seemed to satisfy--even the newest and most miraculous
results of scientific research and knowledge ceased to be interesting
after the first week of their triumphant public demonstration and
acceptance.
"The world must be growing old," said the Cardinal sadly,--"It must be
losing its vigour,--it is too tired to lift itself to the light; too weary and
worn out to pray. Perhaps the end of all present things is at
hand,--perhaps it is the beginning of the promised 'new heavens and
new earth.'"
Just then the organ-music ceased abruptly, and the Cardinal, waking
from his thoughts as from a trance, rose up slowly and stood for a
moment facing the great High Altar, which at that distance could only
just be discerned among its darkening surroundings by the little
flickering flame of the suspended lamp burning dimly before the holy
Tabernacle, wherein was locked with golden key behind snowy doors
of spotless marble, the sacred and mysterious Host.
"WHEN THE SON OF MAN COMETH, THINK YE HE SHALL
FIND FAITH ON EARTH?"
Again that searching question repeated itself in his mind so distinctly as
to be echoed in his ears,--the deep silence around him seemed waiting
expectantly for some reply, and moved by a strange spirit of exaltation
within him, he answered half aloud--
"Yes! Surely He will find faith,--if only in the few! There are 'a few

names, even in Sardis!' In the sorrowful and meek,--in the poor and
patient and downtrodden martyrs of humanity, He will find faith;--in
the very people He died to save He will discover that most precious and
inspiring of all virtues! But in the so-called wise and brilliant favourites
of the world He will not find it,--in the teachers of the people He will
search for it in vain. By the writers of many books He shall find
Himself scorned and rejected,-- in the cheap and spurious philosophy of
modern egotists He will see His doctrines mocked at and denounced as
futile. Few men there are in these days who would deny themselves for
His sake, or sacrifice a personal passion for the purer honouring of His
name. Inasmuch as the pride of great learning breeds arrogance, so the
more the wonder of God's work is displayed to us, the more are we
dazzled and confounded; and so in our blindness we turn from the
worship of the Creator to that of His creation, forgetting that all the
visible universe is but the outcome or expression of the hidden Divine
Intelligence behind it. What of the marvels of the age!--the results of
science!--the strange psychic prescience and knowledge of things more
miraculous yet to be!--these are but hints and warnings of the approach
of God himself--'coming in a cloud with power and great glory'!"
As he thus spoke, he raised his hand out of old habit acquired in
preaching, and a ray from the after-glow of the sunken sun lit up the
jewel in the apostolic ring he wore, warming its pale green lustre to a
dim violet spark as of living fire. His fine features were for a moment
warm with fervour and feeling,--then,--suddenly, he thought of the
great world outside all creeds,--of the millions and millions of human
beings who neither know nor accept Christ,--of the Oriental races with
their intricate and beautiful systems of philosophy,--of savage tribes,
conquered and unconquered,--of fierce yet brave Turkish warriors who
are, with all their faults, at any rate true to the faith they profess--and
lastly--more than all--of the thousands upon thousands of Christians in
Christian lands, who no more believe in Him whose holy name they
take in vain, than in any Mumbo-Jumbo fetish of