NEW

THE METHODIST

CONNEXION MAGAZINE.

OCTOBER, 1872.

ON HUMAN LIMITATIONS OR SET-OFFS. A DISCOURSE PREACHED IN LEEDS.

"A mighty man in valour, but he was a leper."-2 Kings v. 1.

But

SOME idea of the high position, general character, and antecedents of the man of whom mention is here made, is intelligibly though briefly given in the verse of which our text forms a part. "Now Naaman, captain of the host of the king of Syria, was a great man with his master, and honourable, because by him the Lord had given deliverance unto Syria: he was also a mighty man in valour, but he was a leper." As to the "respectability," then, of Naaman, there can be no question. On the other hand, however, the phrase, "he was a great man with his master," cannot be held to decide satisfactorily the worth of his moral character. "Like to like," we sometimes say; and so a man of some particular inclination seeks out the companionship of those whose tastes and tendencies correspond-a congenial soul, in fact. Marshal Ney was doubtless a great man with his master, Napoleon I. And why? Because he was so subservient to the inexorable will of that ambitious and insatiable despot. was he any the better man for that? Or is not rather the fact of the intimacy itself a suspicious circumstance? However, here there is a saving word-the term "honourable." So we take the divine testimony for it that Naaman was a honourable man. So, no doubt, was the king-both "honourable men." His proficiency in the particular profession which he had chosen-the profession of arms-had received abundant proof in the battles fought and victories won. In a word, he was the saviour of his country, and would be treated accordingly. You know how we treat our heroes. What of Wellington after the battle of Waterloo ?—the deliverer not merely of his country, but the saviour of Europe from one of the cruelest scourges of modern times. You know the history. So here, we have one who had climbed as high and as near the throne as possible without being on it. He possessed the confidence of the king, and was happy in the favour and blessing of the people. Able, strong, and willing; happy, knowing, and known; a great, clever, uncrowned king, influencing the destinies of the myriads to whom he had given

M M

freedom; having almost all that heart could wish or appetite could crave. And yet, after all his ability, possessions, prowess, and indomitable courage, hedged in by one of the blackest physical set-offs to human good possible; one of the keenest, cruelest limitations to human bliss and perfection that suffering humanity knows. Yes, Naaman was a great man with his master, and honourable: he was also a mighty man in valour, "but," ah! that "but " stands like a jetblack funeral pall above his head, and casts its dark shade over every dreary day of his dying life; it embitters his sweet, and dashes every

cup of pleasure from his lips.

But-but he was a leper.

There is a certain analogical aspect of this passage which, were we disposed, might properly and profitably engage our attention. At present, however, we contemplate a different purpose, namely, to speak to you a few words

ON HUMAN LIMITATIONS OR SET-OFFS.

A mighty man in valour, BUT he was a leper.-It was the proud boast of Sir Robert Walpole that "every man has his price." To put it curtly and simply, we don't believe him; and are glad to find that when he offered 30,000 florins for a statue of the Virgin Mary from the hands of Michael Angelo to the people of Bruges yonder, they flung the taunt in his face, and contemptuously scorned the offer. However this may be, we can incur no one's displeasure by asserting that every man has his limit, a point somewhere at which he breaks down; a set-off in some respect. You may recount his virtues, name his character, quality, and position, and use up your arithmetic in counting his cash, still you will come to a close, you will meet with an ugly "but." He is this, and the other, and something else; captain of the club, a great man with his master, honourable and upright, brave and chivalrous; but then comes the set-off, a short sum in subtraction, and the difference is the man. We may dash ourselves against the prickly points of the limits, like an angry, disappointed bird against the bars of the cage, if we will; it is no matter, such conduct only injures ourselves, while the inevitable "but" still bars us round and holds us in.

Now, whatever stand-point we assume from which to view this question of human limitation, we shall easily discover illustrative proofs of the tenableness of our position. Take, for instance, that oft-times tantalizing bubble of human pursuit—

Happiness. This, the highest good-or, as the philosophers speak the summum bonum-of millions of men, is so rarely found, or when found is so notched and disfigured by so many set-offs, as scarcely to be recognized. You might call it by another name and yet make little difference. Men mistake what it is, seek it in the wrong place, or call into requisition the wrong means; and so fail to enjoy it.