Good Words, June 1, 1807.] THE CHRISTIAN ASPECT OF A MULTITUDE. board at the head of it, and measured its distance from opened it, and found a bit of the decayed wood from a tree, so that I might know it again. On my first visit to this country I was fortunate enough to meet with the Honourable Arthur Kinnaird, Lord Gainsborough, and others, who, when they learned of my having a sister with two children in slavery, sent me back to America with £500 in British gold. I purchased their liberty, and they are now inhabitants of Jamaica. My sister, after her release from slavery, met me first in Cincinnati, and after the first greeting was over, she took from her bosom a bit of paper carefully folded and tied, and handed it to me. I knew instinctively that it related to my mother. I the rude head-board which I had set to mark her last poor but precious memorials of a soil sacred to me al- THE CHRISTIAN ASPECT OF A MULTITUDE.* "When He saw the multitudes, He was moved with compassion."-Matt. ix. 36. A MAN must have a dull mind, or else a cold heart, | reasoning rage of one multiplied into the unreasoning St. Mark associates this particular emotion with a desert place and a sudden gathering. He makes it the preface to a miraculous feast-the feeding of the five thousand in a wilderness castward from Galilee. so that the most horrid scenes of the French Revolu- And that which is physically formidable to some But St. Matthew seems to say that the feeling was habitual. As Jesus Christ moved about through the natures is morally overwhelming to others. It was cities and villages of Galilee, carrying everywhere the when there were gathered together (St. Luke says) Gospel of the kingdom, and healing every sickness an innumerable multitude of people, insomuch that and every disease among the people, He was moved they trode one upon another-it was then that the "Beware of hypocrisy." And He went on to explain with compassion when He saw around Him the then Divine Master took occasion to say to His disciples, that He meant, above all, the hypocrisy of dissimulateeming population of His earthly country: He discerned in them something which the common eye saw not-a disease deeper than sickness, and a danger tion; that kind of hypocrisy which consists in dismore imminent even than death. He saw them, in guising real principles and stifling conscientious conthe spirit, scattered abroad as sheep having no shep-victions. He is a bold man who can face a hostile herd, and He bade His disciples to pray for them, that God would send forth labourers into those fields so white to the harvest. multitude and tell them what he thinks of Christ and arrant cowards: they dress truth itself in masqueradeternity. Most men, in the face of numbers, are The Christian Aspect of a Multitude is our present ing costume, and more often seek for themselves a subject. To some we can scarcely call them, in this point of view, Christian spectators-the sight of thronging multitudes brings the hope of gain. These crowds must be fed, if not lodged, amongst us: hence perhaps a sudden influx of wealth--enough to provide for a year's rent, or to render possible a year's idleness. It was not thus that Christ beheld the multitudes. Take another step. The sight of a crowd is to some natures simply intimidating. That mass of human bodies, that aggregate of brute force, that momentum of flesh and blood, is a formidable thing. See the crowd, as some of us have seen it, turned by some sudden impulse into a mob: sce it stirred into er: see it swayed hither and thither by some real or (more probably) some fancied wrong: see the un miserable refuge in compliments and compromises. The insignificance of self-a desirable lesson-is Worse thoughts follow. Unbelief is busy in crowds. I never can believe, some men say then in their hearts, that all those multitudes are anything to God. Nato do with them: but a personal Creator, a particular turc, chance, destiny, I can understand to have had Providence, a universal Redemption, an individual These pages were suggested by the near approach of striving, a world-wide judgment, a literal alternative the last Doncaster Races. of heaven and hell-these things seem, at such times, mere figments of the theologian: at home I am a believer, but I become a sceptic in a crowd. And without going thus far-not yielding to such open assaults of the devil-still, even as a Christian man, one may feel a dreadful sinking of the spirits in the face of numbers. Walk through the main thoroughfares of Leeds or London-push your way through our own streets, at certain hours of the week ensuing-look into the faces which surround you; see the hardened, besotted, lost look of many; mark the careworn, the weather-beaten, the sin-disfigured countenances; imagine, ever so roughly, the homelife and the heart-life of the individuals which compose this dense mass of being: and then go on to contemplate the task set to the Gospel, if it is ever to win or force its way into the real existences here confronting it: think with yourself what you could do, in a year, or in a lifetime, to give (instrumentally) that Gospel entrance-Oh it is groat discouragement; it needs great faith, gigantic faith, invincible faith, to believe that this little Gospel can ever fill the earth, or that the kingdoms of this world-if that means the subjects and the citizens composing them are ever to become the kingdoms of our God, and of His Christ. So then the Christian aspect of a crowd-if there be such a thing does not come naturally to any man. It can only be learnt in the school, and from the Spirit, of our Lord Jesus Christ. that the gathering creates evil, but it brings the evil which exists to a focus. It concentrates the dissipated. It gathers together, as it were in one, the children of the wicked one, who were scattered abroad. And this cannot be without consequences; consequences all for evil. If St. Paul spoke by the Spirit of God, when he said, quoting from a heathen author, "Evil communications corrupt: good manners"-judge ye whether bad men can be gathered together, as by proclamation, in a particular town for four or five days consecutively, and not leave behind them a sediment and a poison in some separate houses, a mark and a stain upon some individual lives. I say that a multitude, viewed collectively, represents to us, as we scarcely see it elsewhere, the picture of fallen man. Again, the collective aspect of a crowd may well do for us what it did of old for a magnificent Persian king. He admired first, and then wept, at the sight of his own myriads; not in their terrible discomfiture, but in the moment of their fancied triumph. The thought would force itself upon him, that not one of all those myriads would be alive a hundred years hence, Your famous race has been run now for ninety years: who is alive this day of all who witnossed the first? It seems as if a crowd, full as it is of life and energy, were peculiarly suggestive of the thought of death. I suppose a year seldom passes, in which one life, at least, is not left on that racecourse: men pass it by; walk, as it were, over it; ascribe it to its immediate cause-intemperance, cold, or cholera and there it ends; the inquest settles it, and the living hurry back to their life. But God has seen it; and good men have been saddened by it: and apart from this the exceptional case, the very aspect of that multitude has suggested the recollection of death: where will that crowd be, we ask, not (with Xerxes) one hundred, but fifty, or thirty, or ten years hence? The very life that throngs that race-course has in it the seeds of death: not only as all the living carry death in them, but in a more marked sense; for the crowd is largely made up of the immoral, and the immoral are proverbially short-lived. So then, when Jesus sees the multitudes, He is moved with compasWe may almost propose it as a test of discipleship—sion, because they not only bring to remembrance In what spirit do we behold a multitude? What thoughts predominate as you move through a crowd? Are they the thoughts which filled at such a moment the soul of Christ ? not thoughts of gain; not fear, moral or physical; not doubt, not depression, not discouragement; but just this one-compassion? Let us try to trace it out a little. Jesus, when He saw the multitudes, was not stirred by thoughts of gain; not tempted to win, as He casily might have done, as He had constantly to avoid doing, their shallow, short-lived applause; not terrified by them, even though in sure prescience He might already hear the hoarse cry of "Crucify Him;" not rendered unbelieving by the sight, as though the task which He had undertaken in delivering man were beyond the strength of Omnipotence itself none of these things: something quito opposite: He was "moved with compassion." To the eye of Christ and of His faithful disciples, the sight of a crowd is a sight deeply touching: it fills Him with compassion. 1. Look at that thronging multitude collectively. It gives perhaps the best idea that we can gain anywhere of the Fall of Man. Men are seldom at their best in a crowd. Some crowds are largely composed of the worst of men. The crowd assembled at an execution-I fear we must say, to be truthful, the crowd assembled of a racecourse-may be described, with too much correctness, as composed largely of the worst of men in their worst of moods. This is perhaps the most accurate account of the real evil of such gatherings. It is not By man's fall, but also prognosticate man's death. There is another thing in the collective aspect of a multitude. And that is, the thought of a harvest disproportioned to the reapers. "The harvest is plenteous, but the labourers are few." In this autumn of prevailing rain and waters, what would it be to one of our chief agriculturists to be prevented by scarcity of labourers from using the few brief intervals of calm and sun? His only hope lies in the rapid manipulation of such ears and shocks of corn as he can catch between times. Now the same feeling pressed here upon our Lord's mind in spiritual things. "The labourers are few." And when you stand in the midst of a multitude, and think of the work which must be done in countless homes and innumerable hearts, if any impression whatever is to is each one of those! What a mystery of being and of becoming lies hidden in each! There has been, somewhere or other-far away, perhaps, both in time and space--even for that man, a mother, and a home, and an education, and an experience. Ah! those are sacred names: and ill, perhaps, does any one of them seem to fit the case before us! A mother-herself, perhaps, neglected, injured, outcast, and then a sinner. A home a single room, perhaps, for all that belonged to him, in a squalid tenement of some yard the hotbed of disease. An education for all have that; but his, perhaps, just a letting alone or not even a letting alone an association from infancy with vile comAnd one fourth thing. This aggregation of panions, a familiarity from the cradle with every human beings awakens compassion in Christ and His word and every imagination of evil. An experience people, because it seems so forcibly to bring before us for all have that also; but his, perhaps, unmarked another and a greater gathering, in which, as it is by any vicissitude of happiness, or any alternative, written, "Before Him shall be gathered all nations;' "actually presented to him, of good. in which, it is written again, "I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God." The sight of a multi-fore you is the compound of a thousand influences. tade, if in one sense it provokes unbelief, seems in another sense to realize the judgment. Not only because it collects so many of the worthless, and therefore suggests a time when sin must have its punishment: rather because the gathering itself is a type of a greater; reminds us that there are influences, even here below, which can congregate men in masses— even a political object, even a sight of suffering, even a two minutes' contest, even common curiosity-how much more the message, “Behold the Judge!" how much more the voice of the archangel, which is the trump of God! : And in that judgment, "if the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear ?". And every life has a present. That being be Legacies of past wretchednesses still endow it, and ghosts of past wickednesses still haunt it. But the life itself is that which it is. It has a "now" as well as a "then"a to-day as well as a yesterday. And what is that now that to-day? Where is the sweet loving home from which this man emerged at morning, in which he will find his solace and his repose at evening? What are the actual thoughts of the heart this noonday? Is there any label of rest on that anxious brow? any visible mark of honest love, to God or man, shining through (as it were) from that heart? "There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked." And the future? That life which has a past and a present, has also a future. Is that future bright Jesus, when He saw the multitudes, was moved with with hope? What shall the advancing age be, and compassion. 2. But if the collective aspect of a multitude be thus touching and thus saddening, how much more when you view it individually and in its parts! Take one unit out of that great sum-one man, almost at random, out of that moving, restless throng. Is there nothing, in that closer view, to justify the compassion which was awakened by the general and more remote? It is not indeed till we thus analyze the emotion, that we at all appreciate its justice. Our finite faculties are scarcely equal to a contemplation at once summary and searching. Such views ¡ belong to God only. We must descend to particulars if we would apprehend. And just two things force themselves upon our notice when we come to the elements, that is, to the units of a multitude; two things, than which nothing more serious, nothing more affecting, can be imagined, if the beholder be indeed a Christian. (1.) Each one of these people has a life. the last sickness, and the bed of death? Is there any Such is the life. (2.) And then, once more, each one of these people has a soul. A soul made in God's image: capable not only of reflection and reasoning, of action and affection, of happiness and misery; but capable too of moral good and evil: capable even of feeling after, and knowing, and holding intercourse with God. A soul thus constituted: and a soul immortal too. A soul, not eternal indeed in the past, but eternal (by the will of God) in the future. But then, also, a soul inheriting the taint of the Oh that wonderful word—a life! What does it original Fall: brought into existence, not only in not convey? Look at it any way. Every life has a past. Behind that man lies a little history. There has been a birth, and a childhood, and a boyhood, and a youth. And what a word close connection with a material and perishing body, but also under the condition of exposure to temptation; of having solicitations to evil perpetually addressed to it, not only by sinful men without, but even by a wicked spirit applying himself to a carnal bility therefore in God's sight is the greater-for to mind within. whom more is given, of them will more be required. How is it then with the main fact? Have I given entrance to that Word which is light, to that Gospel which is life and peace? Am I ready for the long future and for the great change? Oh, let me cast out of myself everything that defileth, lest Christ should say to me, "I never knew thee!" Let me watch and pray, lest I enter into temptation; lest my heart be overcharged with surfeiting, intemperance, or cares of this life, and so that day come upon me unawares! And the particular soul, which informs and inhabits this body, has not remained uninfluenced by the circumstances thus described. That particular soul has doubtless yielded, again and again, to the solicitations of evil; has chosen the evil, times without number, and refused the good; has cherished wrong tempers, has formed bad habits, has listened to the devil instead of listening to God, has worshipped and served the creature (in some one or in many of its forms), instead of worshipping and serving God alone with the best of the faculties which He has given, and with the choicest of the affections which He has implanted. And then, once more, to this particular soul, thus involved, more or less, in the snare and yoke of evil, God has addressed Himself in the Gospel of our Lord and Saviour. Recognising with exactest truth the condition of nature, and the far lower condition of the fallen nature, God has spoken to that soul just as it is, and has offered to it just that which it wants for happiness and for glory. He has not, intentionally or negligently, left it in its lost estate. He has promised a free forgiveness through the merits of a dying Lord, and He has promised an entire renewal by the grace of an in-dwelling Spirit. All this hath God done: but this soul would none of Him! This soul has wrapped itself in its degradation, and set aside, day by day, the pleadings of conscience and the strivings of grace. And so, finally, there is before the individual, as before the multitude, a death and a resurrection, a judgment and an eternity. If this be so, and if without repentence all must perish, and without holiness no man can see the Lord; if the individual soul needs, and is still practically destitute of, Christ's Gospel; and if the reception of that Gospel, difficult for all, has an added and a tenfold difficulty where inclination and habit, occupation and interest, are all combined to deny it entrance; can we wonder if Christ Himself-can we wonder if any man who partakes ever so imperfectly of the mind and spirit of Christwhen he sees a multitude, is moved with compassion? Not as an idle speculation, but as a solemn practical lesson, would we present the reflection which has now occupied us. Let it say this to us, in conclusion→→→ Consider thyself. It is easy to look upon the condition of others; to form a superficial judgment, and heave a sigh of indolent pity. But it is more profitable to look within. One of this multitude I am. Does He, who alone can read each condition justly, see in me such a person as has now been portrayed? Does God see in me those features of life and soul which I have been ascribing to another? In some respects they are certainly mine. The lineaments of Creation and of the Fall, of a nature prone to evil and a tempter seeking to seduce, are common to all men. My danger therefore is the same. In other respects the case is as certainly not mine. The peculiar disadvantages of such a training as was spoken of have not been ours. Our responsi Such thoughts as these are ever wholesome: not ministering to arrogance or self-conceit-on the contrary, teaching humility and stirring to watchfulness. Lastly: Think, What can I do? But little, perhaps, directly-in the face of a multitude. We are rather bewildered, overborne, daunted, by the scene before us: there is nothing that we can do. Think yet again. What did Christ Himself bid us to do? Not to confront the multitude: not to assail them with hard speeches: not even to cast that which is holy before hearts unprepared and consciences una wakened. But just this. To pray for them. "Pray ye the Lord of the harvest, that He will send labourers." Any one can do this. .66 Many things are tried in this age: great schemes, busy managements, magnificent enterprises of charity. Take heed lest one thing be omitted-Prayer; prayer | for all sorts and conditions of men; prayer for the careless, the pleasure-hunting, the sinful; that God will be pleased to make His ways known to them, yea, His saving health-think of those words, His saving health-that soul's health which is the soul's salvation-among all nations. This week-in other respects, a week of interrupted ordinances-let us meet together, in larger numbers than usual, day by day, just to pray that prayer; a prayer for more labourers in God's harvest; a prayer for a larger blessing from Him who has said, “All souls are mine!" And let not even the words of Christ put out of sight His great example. He went everywhere preaching the Gospel of the kingdom, and healing every sickness and every disease. We cannot do this. But every one has a little circle, within which he can do something good, something for Christ. Just a few sick folk can be visited: a word here and there can be spoken in season: a sorrowful heart can now and then be comforted, a desponding soul cheered, or a feeble mind strengthened. And He who counts nothing little which is sincerely and lovingly attempted for His redeemed, will accept and bless even these little offerings-will say of some humble handmaid of the Lord, "She hath done what she could "-and to all who have thus lived, when at last He sits on the throne of His glory, "Verily, I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me!" | C. J. VAUGHAN. self-sacrifice, called forth by the enterprise of women, which this intelligent, but formerly egotistic nation exhibited to the old world. We must accord our admiration to the nation as a whole, however individual members of it may offend our taste. WHAT THE AMERICAN LADIES DID DURING THE WAR. EXAMPLES are not rare in history of the self-sacrifice | little of the brighter side: of the great spectacle of of women for the sake of individuals, or for the general good. If we find more frequent instances of heroic and enthusiastic self-sacrifice amongst men, it is because physical strength inspires them with courage, and with confidence of success. But there is another and more difficult sort of devotion, stedfast, enduring, and self-denying, rendered sober by its long continuance, shown not to individuals only, but to all that bears the name of humanity; a devotion which consists not in the achievement of any great deed, but in the performance of little and unobtrusive services, inconspicuous as individual acts, but great in their results. This is feminine fortitude, which endures when man's courage threatens to fail. The countless multitude of these devoted and selfdenying deeds forms no part of the world's history; they belong to family life. Modern times, however, although reproached as characterised by selfishness and love of pleasure, have permitted woman to come out of the restricted domestic circle, and called her to a larger sphere. Times of distress always become times of self-sacrifice. Such deeds become truly great, when they do not end with themselves, but become the parents of similar ones, and this is always the case when men's minds are prepared for them by the prevailing tone of thought. The deeds of Miss Nightingale on the battle-fields of the Crimea were carried on by Henry Dunant on those of Solferino, by the relief associations of Geneva and Germany, by the orders of St. John, in Schleswig-Holstein, in Bohemia and Germany, and in a most eminent degree by the Ladies' Associations in America. For four years the most fearful civil war raged in America. The papers were daily filled with records of suffering and horror, of death and slaughter, of desolated lands and blighted lives, of commerce destroyed and outrages upon humanity. But we heard The bloodless bombardment of Fort Sumter in the spring of 1861 seemed like a harmless forerunner of succeeding events. But it put an end to suspense, and made every one feel that serious times were drawing near. The excitement was therefore great and general, and soon resolved itself into a universal desire to do all that was possible to meet the coming evils. People everywhere began making lint, cutting bandages, and preparing necessaries for hospitals. This was the case in every rank of society; it was done in schools and churches; doctors gave public instructions in nursing and dressing of wounds. But it was felt that this was not enough, and nine days after Lincoln's appeal for the first 70,000 volunteers, 100 ladies, belonging to the first families of New York, met at the Hospital for Women, to consider how women could best assist the national cause. This was the small beginning of the great Association which, though entirely voluntary in its organisation, succeeded in carrying out projects which in extent and variety had never been equalled in any European war. Its labours were richly blessed. The little assembly drew up and put forth an appeal to their countrywomen, signed by 91 ladies, to unite all their forces to assist the army, by means of contributions in money, needlework, and personal assistance. In order to further the object a public meeting was called, which took place at New York on the 29th of April. It was the most numerous assembly of ladies that had ever been known; the proceedings were presided over by Vice-president Hamlin and the revered clergyman Dr. Bellows. It resulted in the formation |