ntent to take all the comfort to itself,
and leave none for the sparrows? Not that of our mighty brother Paul. In
his ears sounded, in his heart echoed, the cries of all the creation of
God. Their groanings that could not be uttered, roused the response of
his great compassion. When Christ was born in the heart of Paul, the
whole creation of God was born with him; nothing that could feel could
he help loving; in the trouble of the creatures' troubles, sprang to
life in his heart the hope, that all that could groan should yet
rejoice, that on the lowest servant in the house should yet descend the
fringe of the robe that was cast about the redeemed body of the Son.
_He_ was no pettifogging priest standing up for the rights of the
superior! An exclusive is a self-excluded Christian. They that shut the
door will find themselves on the wrong side of the door they have shut.
They that push with the horn and stamp with the hoof, can not be
admitted to the fold. St. Paul would acknowledge no distinctions. He saw
every wall--of seclusion, of exclusion, of partition, broken down. Jew
and Greek, barbarian, Scythian, bond and free--all must come in to his
heart. Mankind was not enough to fill that divine space, enlarged to
infinitude by the presence of the Christ: angels, principalities, and
powers, must share in its conscious splendor. Not yet filled, yet
unsatisfied with beings to love, Paul spread forth his arms to the whole
groaning and troubled race of animals. Whatever could send forth a sigh
of discomfort, or heave a helpless limb in pain, he took to the bosom of
his hope and affection--yea, of his love and faith: on them, too, he saw
the cup of Christ's heart overflow. For Paul had heard, if not from His
own, yet from the lips of them that heard Him speak, the words, _Are not
five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten
before God?_ What if the little half-farthing things bear their share,
and always have borne, in that which is behind of the sufferings of
Christ? In any case, not one of them, not one so young that it topples
from the edge of its nest, unable to fly, is forgotten by the Father of
men. It shall not have a lonely deathbed, for the Father of Jesus will
be with it. It _must_ be true. It is indeed a daring word, but less
would not be enough for the hearts of men, for the glory of God, for the
need of the sparrow. I do not close my eyes to one of a thousand
seemingly contradictory facts. I