Stand Firm

The Fifth Triennial Charge To The Diocese Of Liverpool, November

10, 1893.

We meet together today at my fifth Triennial Visitation. It is a solemn and heart-searching occasion. Three years make gaps in our ranks, and the names of some honoured brethren have disappeared from our roll, which were read out in this Cathedral in 1890. We also shall follow them when our work is done. God can do without us. The words on John Wesley’s memorial tablet in Westminster Abbey, should never be forgotten: ‘God buries His workmen, but carries on His work.’

But while three years make many gaps, they also make much history, and in this hurrying age great events follow one another with startling rapidity. In the last triennial period not a few burning subjects have come to the front, which imperatively demand the attention of all thoughtful Churchmen. They are subjects which affect the whole Church of England, and not the Diocese of Liverpool alone. To these subjects I now propose to direct your minds today. You have a right to know my opinions about them. A Bishop was never meant to be a mere figure-head, and an honorary member of all schools of thought. He ought to have decided opinions, and on suitable occasions to express them. You may not agree with me on some points that I shall handle, but at any rate you shall know what I think.

1. I shall speak first about--Our Unhappy Divisions. Their existence it is impossible to deny. Whether we like to acknowledge them or not, they are seen, known, and observed by millions outside our pale. The infidel, the Romanist, the Scotch Presbyterian, the English Nonconformist, all have their eyes upon us, and, if they do not understand our formularies, they do understand that our Church is a very divided body.

There is nothing which need surprise us in a certain amount of divisions among professing Christians. As long as human nature is what it is, it is useless to expect all men to see all things in the same light. This has been the condition of the Church in every age, from the days of the apostles; and the history of our own Reformed Church for three centuries supplies not a few examples. Hooper and Ridley in Edward-the-Sixth’s time; Whitgift and Cartwright, Travers and Hooker, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth; Laud and the Puritans under Charles-the First; the Savoy Conference Bishops and the Nonconformists under Charles-the-Second; Hoadly and Law in the early Georgian era; the rejection of the Methodists in the last century; all tell the same melancholy story. There is nothing new in religious divisions, and our Church has seen and outlived many of them. They have been, and will be, as long as the world stands. There will be no perfect Church until our Divine Head comes again. Nevertheless, I am obliged to say that our divisions in the present day appear to me far more serious than any we have ever had to face in the Established Church since the era of the Reformation, and to threaten very dangerous consequences. Causes of difference which at one time only existed in solution, are now crystallized and solidified. The gulf between opposing schools of thought seems wider and deeper. It is impossible to repress the anxious thought, What will the end of these things be? That thought will arise in many minds.

Of course, I do not forget that myriads of unthinking people suppose that the present divisions of Churchmen are entirely about trifles and petty matters of ritual detail--a little more or less music! a few more or less flowers! a few more vestures, and gestures, and turnings, and postures! This is all the difference they can see between one clergyman and another. Why should they be divided? Why not work harmoniously together, if they are both earnest men? Superficial judgments like this are the great misfortune of our times. An immense number of laymen cannot or will not see that our ‘unhappy divisions’ arise almost entirely from discordant opinions about the Lord’s Supper. But, surely, the importance of that blessed sacrament can hardly be overstated. History tells us it is the very ordinance about which our martyred Reformers laid down their lives at the stake. If the clergy of this generation are entirely divided about the Lord’s Supper, the laity may not understand it, but they may be sure our Church is in very evil plight.

It is useless to shut our eyes to plain facts, when the ship is really in danger, and there are breakers ahead. Are we really much divided? Are our differences very serious? Let us see. I shall not shrink from naming some notorious points which appear to me to demand attention, and supply sorrowful proof that our divisions are real. (1) One section of our clergy, and probably the majority, maintains that the Lord’s Supper is a sacrifice. Another, and probably the minority, maintains, with equal firmness, that it is not, and should only be called a sacrament.

(2) One maintains that the Communion table is an altar, and should be always treated as such. Another maintains that it is only the Holy Table.

(3) One maintains that the minister at the Lord’s Supper is a sacrificing priest. Another maintains that he is only an officiating presbyter, though called a priest, and that there is no authority for sacerdotalism in the New Testament or the Prayer-book. (4) One maintains that the officiating minister should celebrate, and consecrate the elements with his face to the east, and his back to the people. The other maintains that he should stand at the north end with his face to the south.

(5) One maintains that the Lord’s Supper ought never to be administered in the evening. The other maintains that there is no objection whatever to evening Communion, where the circumstances of the congregation make it desirable.

(6) One maintains that the Lord’s Supper does good, more or less, to all who receive it, and that as a general rule all persons should be urged to become communicants. The other maintains that it only does good to believing and worthy communicants, and to those who are destitute of lively faith does no good at all, but rather harm. (7) One maintains that the Lord’s Supper should always be received fasting, and after confession to a clergyman. The other regards both these additions to the sacrament with deep aversion, as not warranted by Scripture or the Prayer-book.

(8) One maintains that there is a real objective presence of Christ’s body and blood under the forms of the consecrated bread and wine. The other maintains that there is no real presence whatsoever, except in the hearts of believing communicants.

Now, I shall not for a moment attempt to argue these disputed points, or to say, on this occasion, who is right and who is wrong, whatever my own private opinions may be. I shall not pretend to say what is, and what is not, legal. We seem to have reached days when ecclesiastical law about doctrine and ritual is practically dead and buried, and every clergyman, like Israel in the time of the Judges, does, and teaches ‘what is right in his own eyes.’ I only place before you plain facts which nobody can deny, and ask you to observe what an immense cause of weakness these divisions must be, and are, to the Church of England. When a clergyman on one side of a street or road administers the Lord’s Supper in one way, and his neighbour a few hundred yards off in another way, there is a terrible lack of unity. It may well be said to the Church whose ministers are so divided, ‘Be not high-minded, but fear.’ A church which can live with such discordant elements in her bosom is a miracle of vitality. Some tell us, I know, that if we are quiet and hold our tongues, everything will come right. The bud of unity is growing, and will soon bloom into a perfect flower! I confess I see no symptom whatsoever of this, and indeed things seem to me, since the Lincoln decision, (The judgment given by E. W. Benson, Archbishop of Canterbury, in 1891, concerning the case of Dr. Edward King, Bishop of Lincoln, who had adopted Romanizing practices.) to look worse rather than better. Some tell us that the Church of England is eminently comprehensive, and that we must expect many divisions and differences. No doubt this is true. But, surely, there must be limits to our comprehensiveness! Some consider that the minority of the clergy should always give way to the majority, and meekly adopt its views of the Lord’s Supper. I am quite certain that the present Protestant minority will do nothing of the kind. They will stand firm in the old paths, supported by a very large body of the laity, and any general attempt to prohibit such a thing as evening Communion, or to enforce the eastward position, or to bring back, and legalize in our service, the defective First Prayer-book of Edward VI, or to sanction auricular confession, would blow the Established Church to pieces.

I admit that in a large Church like our own, there will always be some shades and varieties of opinion. Our National Church is rather like our National Army, which contains several various forces, each firmly convinced of its own peculiar importance. In time of peace the Guards chaff the Line, and the Line the Guards; the Cavalry makes light of the Artillery, and the Artillery of the Cavalry; the kilted Highlanders think little of the Rifle brigade or the Welsh Fusiliers, and the Irish regiments think themselves best of all. But let the stern realities of war once begin, and a British army be sent to a foreign shore; let the campaign really commence and the enemy be met on the field of battle; let the word be given to advance across the Alma, or charge up the valley of death at Balaclava, or storm the Redan, or force the Khyber Pass; and where will you find more real union, and brotherly feeling, and readiness to stand shoulder to shoulder, than in the army of our Queen? And so I hope it might possibly be in our National Church. There may be many traitors among us, sceptics and Romanists who are useless and untrustworthy, and ought to go to their own place. But for all this there is a considerable amount of substantial agreement within our pale. In spite of all her apparent differences, and conflicting Schools of thought, the National Church has some strong elements of cohesiveness, and contrives to satisfy and keep together a very large proportion of the people of this land. But a modus vivendi (mode of living) in a church, as well as in the Army, can only work by rigid observance of impartiality. The General of an army who favoured one branch of his forces more than another would never succeed very well in war. The Heads of a Church who ostracize and frown on any one school of thought, and smile on another, will look in vain for unity. Here is a great problem, and I know not how it is to be solved. I only ask you to ponder the solemn words of our Lord Jesus Christ: ‘Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation, and a house divided against itself shall not stand.’ (Matthew 12:25) And He says: ‘My word shall not pass away.’ (Matthew 24:35)

I leave the whole subject of our ‘unhappy divisions’ at this point. I cannot square the circle, or produce perpetual motion, and I cannot undertake to untie the huge knot I have tried to describe and set before you. We are drifting, drifting, drifting, as a Church, and in imminent danger of shipwreck. I can only offer you fatherly counsel, and ask you for the sake of peace to receive it. If you must needs have divisions I entreat you to cultivate courtesy and kindness in all your dealings with one another. Let us agree to differ pleasantly if we must differ. Let us not refuse to work together as far as we can. Education, sanitation, philanthropy, common morality, supply a vast extent of common ground. To men of one School I offer the following advice: Do not be in a hurry to secede from the Established Church because things are not going on according to your mind, so long as the Articles and Prayer-book remain quite whole and unaltered. The list of things permissible and not illegal may be sadly increasing. But stand firm so long as nothing new is required or forced on you, and you are allowed to work on your old lines. The way of patience is better than the way of secession. I am old enough to remember the secessions of Baptist Noel and Capel Molyneux. I believe they both lived to see that secession was a mistake. To men of an opposite school I offer the following advice: Try to be satisfied with the advantages you have obtained in late years. Do not press on violently for more permissions, more concessions, more ritual novelties, which will only provoke fresh conflicts and create a storm. Very likely you may all reject my counsel. But one thing is very certain, if we cannot lessen ‘our unhappy divisions’ there is only one conclusion before us. That conclusion is the disruption and complete break up of the Established Church of England. Our candlestick will be taken away, and we shall be left in the dark.

2. The second subject about which I propose to speak is hardly less important than my first. I refer to--Higher Criticism. It is needless to say that I speak of the modern and startling views of the authority, the dates, the construction, the historical veracity, of large portions of the Old Testament Scriptures, which have been brought before the public during the last few years.

I handled this subject at considerable length in my opening address at the Diocesan Conference last year. I shall not dwell much on it now. On that occasion I declared my inability to accept the theories of ‘Higher Criticism’ on account of their enormous improbability. Since that time I have found no reason to alter the opinions I expressed. I acknowledge most willingly the learning, the cleverness, the diligence, the reverent tone of most of the champions of this new school of thought. I have no doubt they think they are doing God service. But I cannot shut my eyes to the tendencies--the unmistakable tendencies--of the whole system of ‘Higher Criticism.’ It is my deliberate opinion that it is calculated to shake the faith of millions, and to strike a heavy blow at the two great foundation truths of Christianity. One of those foundations is the supremacy and sufficiency of Holy Scripture. The other is the perfect divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Let us turn first to Scripture, and consider the position that ‘God’s Word written’ occupies in Christianity. I need not remind you of the old cardinal principle of our holy religion that the Bible is the true rule of faith and practice, a sure guide for belief while we live, and a sure guide of hope when we die. It goes without saying that for centuries the volume called the Bible has been regarded by orthodox Christians as the authorized test of truth and error, and the source of all true religion. To me and many others it is God’s mouth-piece to a dark and fallen world, and the final Court of Appeal in religion, a Court which never makes any mistakes. The only question asked about anything which, from our childhood, we have been called upon to believe as spiritual truth, has been simply this, ‘Is it in the Bible?’ If it is there, it is worthy of credit, and ought to be received; if it is not there, it has no right to demand our assent. The preacher, the Bible-class teacher, the Sunday-school teacher, throughout the land, all ask you to believe what they say, and to accept it, because they find it written in a book which they tell you is ‘God’s word written, the Word of God.’ A plain text of Scripture settles everything. Our own Thirty-nine Articles refer to the Bible in this point of view no less than nineteen times. The book, no doubt, contains many things hard to be understood, and many deep things which we cannot explain, but nothing incorrect or untrue. And it is a book utterly unlike any other book in the world. It is a book given by inspiration of the Holy Ghost.

But what are we to say to all this, if the theories of ‘Higher Criticism’ are correct? If some parts of Scripture are the uncertain compositions of uninspired men; if Genesis, for instance, is only a patchwork of contributions from four or five different hands; if some of its historical parts are mere legends, fables, and myths, destitute of any divine authority--the preacher, the lecturer, and the Sunday-school teacher are all deprived of their chief weapon. They will be obliged to say to their hearers, ‘The things that we tell you may possibly be true, but we are not certain that they are.’ At this rate the chief use of the Bible appears to my eyes to be destroyed. The old book is dethroned from the high position which it has hitherto held as the pure Word of God, by being mixed up with things which are the mere uninspired words of fallen man. Who shall decide, if we once admit the thin edge of uncertainty, what portions of the Old Testament are the infallible ‘oracles of God,’ and what are the fallible writings of the erring and corrupt children of Adam? Which of the historical parts of Genesis are real history, and which are mere baseless myths and legends of no authority? These are questions to which I believe no one can supply an answer. I maintain firmly that a book cannot be a rule of faith to a Church if it contains defects, errors, flaws, imperfections, inaccuracies, and even untruths. It may contain a large measure of true and interesting matter, but it certainly cannot be called the infallible Word of God. Let us turn next to our Lord Jesus Christ, and consider how the theories of Higher Criticism must affect our estimate of His Person and infallibility. They appear to me to land us unavoidably in a most painful and difficult position. Most of us have been taught to believe that we have a Divine Saviour of perfect knowledge, and incapable of saying what was not true, or making any mistake. We have thought Him not only a perfect Redeemer, but a perfect Prophet and Teacher. But we are now asked to believe that He sometimes spoke of persons as real persons who never existed, and events as real historical events which never took place. In short we are invited to believe that Jesus Christ, when He was on earth, was a Person of limited knowledge. This is a theory which I must decline to accept, and must regard as dangerous in the extreme. I admit that our Lord was really and truly man, and that from His birth He ‘increased in wisdom and stature’ like other men. (Luke 2:25) But that His knowledge was imperfect and limited when He came to full age, like the knowledge of any other man who was merely a fallen child of Adam, I cannot believe for a moment. For we must remember that He was always God as well as man, and that in His marvellous and mysterious Person, ‘The Godhead and manhood were joined together in one person, never to be divided’ (Second Article). To suppose that at any time during the three years of His earthly ministry He could speak ignorantly of past things, and teach things that were not really true, appears to my eyes a serious error, and a step in the direction of Socinianism, though I am sure the advocates of Higher Criticism would abhor the very idea. Now, I must say that my soul revolts from the very idea of a fallible Saviour, Redeemer, Priest, Prophet, and Judge! At this rate our Lord was merely the greatest of human prophets, but nothing more, and not ‘God manifest in the flesh.’ Once concede that He was fallible in any part of His teaching, and I do not see where you can draw the line. No one could now pronounce positively when He spoke ignorantly and when not, and a mist of uncertainty would descend on all His words. That in the mysterious counsels of the eternal Trinity it was appointed that the Son, on one single occasion (Mark 13:32), during His earthly ministry, should not know, as a thing to be revealed to the Church, the precise date of His own Second Advent and the end of the world, I can believe, and I think, with reverence, that I see wisdom in the appointment. He says Himself in one place, ‘The Father, which sent me, he gave me a commandment what I should say, and what I should speak.’ (John 12:49) But that He ever stated anything in error I cannot for a moment believe. If He did, He could not be the infallible Teacher of the Church, and ‘the Light of the world.’ From a fallible Bible and a fallible Saviour, Good Lord, deliver us!

I leave this painful subject here. Time, perhaps, will throw more light upon it, and make Christians more of one mind. At present I cannot withdraw my opinion that an acceptance of the conclusions of Higher Criticism has an unmistakable tendency to lower a man’s view of the two foundations of revealed religion, the Bible and Christ.

I can only advise all my clergy, who want counsel on the subject of Higher Criticism, to cultivate a very cautious attitude of judgment. Beware of taking up loose and confused views of the doctrine of inspiration. Stand firm on the grand old text, ‘All Scripture is given by inspiration of God.’ (2 Timothy 3:16) The translation of the Greek of that verse which the Revised Version has given us, is in my opinion most awkward and unnatural. The old is better. Do not be carried off your feet by the first clever new book you come across, and especially if you have never examined this branch of study before. Do not mistake assertions for proofs, suggestions for solid arguments, and hypothetical conjectures for logical conclusions. There are two sides to most questions; mind you look at both. Never give up great principles on account of petty, flashy objections, which at first sight look unanswerable, but soon melt like snow. Above all, never forget the wise saying of the great philosopher Faraday:--‘On all disputable points try to preserve your mind in a state of judicious suspense.’

3. The next subject to which I shall invite your attention is, The Increasing Desecration of our English Sunday.

This is a subject which every Englishman ought to consider seriously in the present day. I can find no words to express my own sense of its importance. I am persuaded that one half of English Christianity is bound up with the maintenance of the ‘old English Sunday.’ Whether we shall be able to maintain it remains to be seen. The enemy is coming in like a flood, and if we would ‘hold the fort,’ we must gird up our loins and fight. There are two points in the lines of revealed religion which the great enemy of souls seems to be attacking with special enmity in these days, one doctrinal, the other practical. One of these two is the Priestly office of Christ, and the other is the obligation of the Fourth Commandment. We must defend these two points to the last. ‘He that hath no sword, let him sell his garment and buy one.’ (Luke 22:36) (At this point Bishop Ryle repeated verbatim the warnings given in his fourth Triennial Charge.)

I am aware that many thoughtless people in this thoughtless age sneer at the Sabbath as an effete Jewish institution. By so doing they only exhibit their own ignorance of the Bible and human nature.

They do not see that the Sabbath is an institution as old as creation, and was ‘made for man’ long before the Decalogue. It was made to keep man in touch with God, and is an unmixed good for all classes. (1) The Sabbath is good for man’s body. We all need a day of rest. On this point all medical men are agreed. Curiously and wonderfully made as the human frame is, it will not stand incessant work without regular intervals of repose. The gold-diggers of California soon learned this fact. Reckless and ungodly as many of them probably were, urged on as they were, no doubt, by the mighty influence of the hope of gain, they still found out that a seventh day’s rest was absolutely needful to keep themselves alive. Without it they discovered that in digging for gold they were only digging their own graves. I firmly believe that one reason why the health of hardworking clergymen so frequently fails, is the great difficulty they find in getting a day of rest. I am sure, if the body could tell its wants, it would cry loudly, ‘Remember the Sabbath Day.’

(2) The Sabbath is good for man’s mind. The mind needs rest quite as much as the body. It cannot bear an uninterrupted strain on its powers. It must have its intervals of leisure to unbend and recover its force. Without them it will either prematurely wear out, or fail suddenly like a broken bow. I have been credibly informed that the testimony of old Mr. Wilberforce, the famous statesman and philanthropist, on this point was very striking. He declared that he could only attribute his own power of endurance to his regular observance of the Sabbath Day. He remembered that he had observed some of the mightiest intellects among his contemporaries in Parliament fail suddenly at last, and their possessors come to melancholy ends. And he was satisfied that in every such case of mental shipwreck the true cause was neglect of the Fourth Commandment.

(3) The Sabbath is good for nations. It has an enormous effect both on the character and temporal prosperity of a people. I firmly believe that a people which regularly rests one day in seven will do more work, and better work, in a year than a people which never rests at all. Their hands will be stronger, their minds will be clearer, their power of attention, application, and steady perseverance will be far greater. What two nations on earth are so prosperous at this day as Great Britain and the United States of America? Where shall we find on the globe so much energy, so much steadiness, so much success, so much public confidence, so much morality, and so much good government as in those two countries? Let others account for all this as they please. I say, without hesitation, that the grand secret of it all has been the observance of the Sabbath. Great Britain and the United States, with all their sins, are the two most Sabbathkeeping nations on earth. They have given up seven years of good working days in the last fifty years to keeping the Lord’s Day holy. But have they lost anything by it? No, indeed! None speaks more decidedly on that point than Lord Macaulay. The two Sabbathkeeping nations are the most prosperous nations in the world. Sabbath-keeping, no doubt, appears to lose a nation a seventh part of its time, and is a tax on its income. But it is undoubtedly the best tax we pay!

(4) Last, but not least, the Sabbath is an unmixed good for man’s soul. The soul has its wants just as much as the mind and body. It is in the midst of a hurrying, bustling world, in which its interests are constantly in danger of being jostled out of sight. To have those interests properly attended to, there must be a special day set apart. There must be a regularly recurring time for calmly and quietly examining the state of our souls. There must be a day to test and prove us, whether we are prepared for an eternal heaven. Take away a man’s Sabbath, and his religion soon comes to nothing. As a general rule, there is a regular flight of steps from ‘no Sabbath’ to ‘no God.’ (At this point the Bishop repeated the warnings given in his fourth Triennial Charge.)

4. The last subject, but not the least, to which I wish to direct your attention is the proposed--Disestablishment and Disendowment of the Church in Wales.

It is needless to tell you that the Welsh Church, as it is commonly called, is an integral part of the Church of England. You cannot attack one without attacking the other. And the point I wish to press on your consideration is the positive duty of buckling on our armour and getting ready for a fight which is evidently coming. It is useless to say that Disestablishment is not a question of ‘practical politics.’ It was so once, and it is a terribly practical question now; and if that Statesman who disestablished the Church of Ireland (W. E. Gladstone (in 1869).) continues to live, it will be more practical still. In handling this great and pressing subject I shall say nothing about legal points. Parliament is omnipotent in this day, and if Parliament resolves to disestablish and disendow the Church of England, we must submit, however indignant and disgusted we may feel. I will assume that the deed is done, and that all Churches and sects in Great Britain are placed on a dead level of equality.

No favour or privilege would be granted by the State to one more than another. The State itself would have nothing to do with religion, and would leave the supply of it to the principles of free trade and the action of the voluntary system. In a word, the Government of England would allow all its subjects to serve God or Baal, to go to heaven or to another place, just as they please. The State would take no cognizance of spiritual matters, and would look on with Epicurean indifference and unconcern. The State would continue to care for the bodies of its subjects, but it would entirely ignore their souls.

I will now point out to you what the practical consequences of this revolutionary legislation would certainly be. I think it important to approach the subject from this side. Many thoughtless people, I suspect, have not the least idea of the length and breadth of the harm which Disestablishment and Disendowment would do in this country. They point to the Colonies and the United States of America and ask us to observe how well people get on there without any union of Church and State. I am not convinced that things go on so pleasantly in those countries without Established Churches as many suppose, either in towns like New York, or in the great Western States. At any rate I think it a plain duty to point out what I believe would be the consequences of Disestablishment and Disendowment in old England.

(i) The injury which the Church would receive is very great indeed. Deprived of her present endowments it would be necessary to diminish the number of her rural clergy by at least one half, to consolidate half the livings, and put an end to half the services! The voluntary system in rural districts is notoriously an entire failure. None know that better than the ministers of Nonconformist country chapels. It would tax the energies of a disestablished Church most heavily to keep up an Episcopal ministry outside the towns. It would immensely cripple the power of the Church of England to do much for the evangelization of the heathen abroad, and the general spread of the gospel at home. ‘Sustentation funds’ would absorb threequarters of the Church’s attention; and we should find it hard enough to maintain our position, and much harder to extend our lines. Last, but not least, Disestablishment would almost certainly lead to divisions, schisms, and possibly disruption in the Episcopal body. We should all become more narrow, and less liberal and comprehensive in our views. Of course this goes for nothing with some Christians, who seem to think that divisions and schisms are very nice things, and that the multiplication of sects is the nearest thing to heaven upon earth! I content myself with repeating the words of our Lord Jesus Christ, ‘A house divided against itself cannot stand.’ The more divisions among Christians the greater the weakness, and the smaller the influence of Christianity! To promote an increase of division among English Christians is the surest way to help the Church of Rome, the agnostic, and the infidel.

I will not waste words on those who tell us that the English clergy, after Disestablishment, would preach better, and write better, and speak better, and work better than they do now, and that, like wild elephants, we should all be made tamer and more useful by starving. Anybody can make assertions like these; but assertions are worth nothing when they are contradicted by plain facts. I do not see that the American Episcopalians over the water, who have no connection with the State, are a bit better preachers and workers than the clergy of the English Establishment. Above all, I do not see that English Nonconformist ministers, as a body, are at all superior, in preaching or in working, to the clergy of the English Established Church.

In short, the assertion of the advocates of Disestablishment, that this movement would do the Church of England good, and not harm, appears to me utterly destitute of foundation. It would inflict on us immense damage. An ounce of facts is better than a pound of theories. Free Churches are very fine things to talk about, and look very fine at a distance; but matters are not always serene inside. (2) While, however, Disestablishment would greatly cripple and injure the Church of England, I fail to see that it would do any good to the Dissenters. I believe that it would neither increase their numbers, nor raise their influence, nor add to their power in town or country.

Would Disestablishment destroy the Church of England, and take the great rival of Dissenters completely out of the way? Would it leave the Dissenters a clear field, and throw the whole population into their hands? It would do nothing of the kind! Unless the House of Commons resolves to proscribe the use of the Liturgy to make it penal to be an Episcopalian, to confiscate the property of Churchmen on the principles of French Communism, and to imprison or shoot clergymen who work harder than others--unless the House of Commons does this, the Church of England will never be killed by Disestablishment. Dissenters would soon find that the old Church, when Disestablished, was not dead, but very much alive. Disestablishment would not even ruin the Church financially. The pew-rents and offertories would still remain: Parliament could not take them. The endowments of the last two centuries would still remain: Parliament, on the reasonable principles of the Irish Act, would not touch them. The life-interests of the Bishops and Clergy, on the same principles, would still remain. A judicious system of life insurance or commutation, such as wise lay Churchmen, accustomed to financial matters, could soon devise, would turn those lifeinterests into a very large capital for investment, if safe investment could be found. In short, though sorely crippled and impoverished, the Church of England would not be ruined. We could still get on, and would get on, though many of us might have to reduce our expenditure very largely. The Liberationists would soon discover, after spoiling and impoverishing us as much as they could, that we were not quite bankrupt. We should maintain our position, in spite of our poverty, and not die.

Disestablishment would not affect the influence of the Church in great towns in the slightest appreciable degree. The tithe-receiving clergy in rural districts would doubtless lose half their income by life insurance or commutation, and be sorely hampered. But most of the clergy in our large cities, such as London, Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, Leeds, and Sheffield, who generally depend on pewrents, Easter offerings, and offertories, as a body, would be almost as well off after Disestablishment as they were before. ‘The great towns govern the country,’ we are continually told. Yet in most great towns the Church would be as powerful as ever!

Disestablishment would not make the bulk of Englishmen forsake the Church of England, and become Baptists, Independents, Presbyterians, or Methodists. It would not fill the chapels and empty the churches. It would not make the aristocracy, or the upper and middle classes, or a large part of the working classes, burn their Prayer-Books, desert Episcopally ordained ministers, and fall in love with extempore prayer. Not a bit of it! The vast majority of Churchmen would stick to bishops, rectors, vicars, curates, liturgical worship, and the old paths of the Church of England, closer and tighter than ever. They would make more of their poor old Church in her adversity than they ever did in her prosperity. They would love her better, and open their purses more liberally, when they saw her in plain attire, than they ever did before. In point of number of adherents I verily believe Disestablishment would soon prove a dead loss to Dissenters, and not a gain.

Last, but not least, Disestablishment would not give more liberty to Dissenters, or enable them to do any thing which they cannot do now. No Christians on earth have such a plethora of civil and religious liberty as the English Nonconformists have in the present day. They have far more freedom than Churchmen! They can build chapels anywhere, preach anywhere, gather congregations anywhere, worship in any way, and serve God in any way, no man forbidding them: while Churchmen are checked and stopped by laws and restrictions at every turn. What in the world could Dissenters do more, if the Church was disestablished tomorrow? I cannot for a moment suppose they would ask leave to shoot or hang all the clergy, to ‘improve us off the face of the earth,’ to confiscate the cathedrals and parish churches, and to compel the millions of English men and women who now go to church to go to chapel, on pain of fines or death. But, short of this, I know of nothing they cannot do now. They have free liberty to make all Englishmen Dissenters, if they can; and what more do they want? The dissolution of the union of Church and State would do the Dissenters no good at all.

(3) Great, however, as the injury would be which Disestablishment would do to the Church, it is my firm conviction, that it would do far greater injury to the State.

Reason itself points out that the moral standard of a nation’s subjects is the grand secret of its prosperity. Gold mines and manufactures and scientific discoveries and eloquent speeches and commercial activity and democratic institutions are not enough to make or to keep nations great. Tyre and Sidon and Egypt and Carthage and Athens and Rome and Venice and Spain and Portugal had plenty of such possessions as these, and yet fell into decay. The sinews of a nation’s strength are truthfulness, honesty, sobriety, purity, temperance, economy, diligence, brotherly kindness, charity among its inhabitants. Let those deny this who dare. And will any man say that there is any surer way of producing these characteristics in a people than by encouraging and fostering pure scriptural Christianity? The man who says there is must be an infidel. Does a State want its subjects to be provident, truthful, diligent, temperate, honest, moral, and charitable? Does it or does it not? If it does it ought to encourage, and not to ignore, religion. To punish vice and yet not cherish virtue, to spend public money on building jails and yet not encourage Christianity, is, to say the least, an absurdly inconsistent policy. The more true religion the better subjects! The more good subjects the more prosperity! The Government which ignores religion, and coolly declares that it does not care whether its subjects are Christians or not, is guilty of an act of suicidal folly. Irreligion, even in a temporal point of view, is the worst enemy of a nation.

After all, I am one of those old-fashioned people who believe in a God. I believe in Him not only as the God of creation, but as the God of providence, the God who governs the world, the God who hears and answers prayer. Believing all this, I will never admit that it signifies nothing whether a Government recognizes Christianity or not, and that it matters little whether a country has an Established Church. I set my foot down firmly on the great principle, ‘Them that honour me I will honour, and they that despise me shall be lightly esteemed.’ (1 Samuel 2:30) I apply that principle to nations, and I believe it will always hold good. The Act of Parliament which disestablished the Church of England might do great damage to the Church, but I am quite sure it would do far more damage to the State. We should lose much, but the State would lose a great deal more. As a patriot and an Englishman, I would stand firm and maintain the union of Church and State for the sake of my country. What may be before us no man can tell. But in an age like our own, an age of restlessness, an age of liberality falsely so called, an age of popularity hunting, an age of sensationalism and surprises, an age of idolatry of the mob, an age of contempt for old things merely because they are old, an age of spasmodic feverish zeal for new things merely because they are new, an age of change for the sake of change, an age of laziness and apathy among the defenders of the old things, and of earnestness and perseverance among the advocates of the new--in such an age I shall never be surprised if Disestablishment comes. When it does come, I believe it will inflict such an amount of damage on the State as the mind of man can hardly conceive. I declare I had far rather see the Episcopal Establishment upset, and the Methodists, Presbyterians, Baptists or Independents made the Established Church of England, than see the State ceasing to recognize God.

In what manner God would punish England, if English Governments cast off all connection with religion, I cannot tell. Whether he would punish us by some sudden blow, such as defeat in war, and the occupation of our territory by a foreign power; whether He would waste us away gradually and slowly by placing a worm at the roots of our commercial prosperity; whether He would break us to pieces by letting fools rule over us and allowing Parliaments to obey them, and permitting us, like the Midianites, to destroy one another; whether He would ruin us by sending a dearth of wise statesmen in the upper ranks, and giving the reins of power to communists, socialists, and mob-leaders; all these are points which I have no prophetical eye to see, and I do not pretend to determine. God’s sorest judgments, the ancients said, are like millstones; they grind very slowly, but they grind very fine. The thing that I fear most for my country is gradual, insensible dry-rot and decay. But of one thing I am very sure. The State that begins by sowing the seed of national neglect of God, will sooner or later reap a harvest of national disaster and national ruin. If Disestablishment comes, it will do no hurt to the true Church of Christ, the body of real believers: that it is beyond the power of man to harm. It will do little comparative injury to the visible Episcopal Church of England: though impoverished and crippled in many ways she will still live, and not die. But it will do boundless harm to the State, and in the end will prove the ruin of all our greatness. For our dear old country’s sake let us stand firm and resist Disestablishment. (The Welsh Church Disestablishment Act was passed in 1914, but its operation was suspended until six months after the close of the World War.) I bring my charge to a conclusion at this point. I have felt it my duty to call your attention to four very important subjects. Our unhappy divisions, Higher Criticism, The growing desecration of the Sabbath, The probable approach of Disestablishment. I commend all four to the serious consideration of all my clergy. They are not pleasant subjects, but they knock at the door, and imperatively demand admission to our minds, and I hope they will receive it. At any rate they supply food for thought.

There are several other deeply important subjects which I had intended to handle. Among these are the painful increase of gambling, and drunkenness, the extremely critical position of many of our Church Schools, the dearth of distinctive doctrinal teaching in Board Schools, the huge social difficulties arising from strikes and lock-outs, and the collision of capital and labour. But I have no time today for such wide fields of discussion, and, however unwillingly, I must leave them alone.

It is very possible that this may be the last Triennial Charge I shall ever be allowed to deliver. A Bishop at 77 cannot expect his life to be much prolonged. For all your kindness to me, during the 13 years of my Episcopate, accept this day my hearty thanks. I wish I could have done more for the Diocese than I have done. But I think I can say, ‘I have tried to do my duty.’

I should have been glad if this last Charge had been delivered under brighter prospects. But it is vain to conceal from ourselves that our horizon is dark on every side, dark ecclesiastically, dark politically, dark commercially, dark socially. What shall the end be? Is the tide never going to turn? Is the sun never going to rise? I cannot wonder that this text comes across many minds: ‘Men’s hearts failing them for fear, and for looking after those things which are coming on the earth.’ (Luke 21:26)

I conclude with a few sentences of a sermon preached by Edward Reynolds, Bishop of Norwich, in the reign of Charles II. They are so curiously applicable to our own days that I cannot forbear from quoting them:

‘We live in failing times; we have found men of low degree vanity, and men of high degree a lie. We have trusted too much in Parliaments, and they have been broken, in princes, and they have given up the ghost. Our ships have been broken, our trade broken, our estates broken, our government broken, our hopes broken, our Church broken, nothing but our hearts and our sins unbroken. Well, it hath been our sin and our folly to trust in broken reeds, in perishing and dying comforts. Let it at last be our wisdom and our faith to trust in the living God, and by repentance and humiliation to remove our sins. Then no other impossibilities can obstruct the passage of mercy to us.’ (Edward Reynolds, Works, vol. 5, P. 180.) These are striking words. We may remember with thankfulness, that the sun did rise again, and the tide did flow, after Bishop Reynolds left the world. So may it be with us. Let us not sit down in despair, but each in our own place stand firm, work, fight, watch, hope, and pray.