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SERMON ON GOD AND MAMMON.
I never asked questions about the private affairs of any of my
parishioners, except of themselves individually upon occasion of
their asking me for advice, and some consequent necessity for
knowing more than they told me. Hence, I believe, they became the
more willing that I should know. But I heard a good many things from
others, notwithstanding, for I could not be constantly closing the
lips of the communicative as I had done those of Jane Rogers. And
amongst other things, I learned that Miss Oldcastle went most
Sundays to the neighbouring town of Addicehead to church. Now I had
often heard of the ability of the rector, and although I had never
met him, was prepared to find him a cultivated, if not an original
man. Still, if I must be honest, which I hope I must, I confess that
I heard the news with a pang, in analysing which I discovered the
chief component to be jealousy. It was no use asking myself why I
should be jealous: there the ugly thing was. So I went and told God
I was ashamed, and begged Him to deliver me from the evil, because
His was the kingdom and the power and the glory. And He took my part
against myself, for He waits to be gracious. Perhaps the reader may,
however, suspect a deeper cause for this feeling (to which I would
rather not give the true name again) than a merely professional one.
But there was one stray sheep of my flock that appeared in church
for the first time on the morning of Christmas Day--Catherine Weir.
She did not sit beside her father, but in the most shadowy corner of
the church--near the organ loft, however. She could have seen her
father if she had looked up, but she kept her eyes down the whole
time, and never even lifted them to me. The spot on one cheek was
much brighter than that on the other, and made her look very ill.
I prayed to our God to grant me the honour of speaking a true word
to them all; which honour I thought I was right in asking, because
the Lord reproached the Pharisees for not seeking the honour that
cometh from God. Perhaps I may have put a wrong interpretation on
the passage. It is, however, a joy to think that He will not give
you a stone, even if you should take it for a loaf, and ask for it
as such. Nor is He, like the scribes, lying in wait to catch poor
erring men in their words or their prayers, however mistaken they
may be.
I took my text from the Sermon on the Mount. And as the magazine for
which these Annals were first written was intended chiefly for
Sunday reading, I wrote my sermon just as if I were preaching it to
my unseen readers as I spoke it to my present parishioners. And here
it is now:
The Gospel according to St Matthew, the sixth chapter, and part of
the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth verses:--
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