Grieving the Spirit

And grieve not the Holy Spirit of God, in whom ye were sealed unto the day of redemption.—Ephesians 4:30.

St. Paul is charging the Ephesians to be careful not to forget or to despise some of the common duties of everyday life. He is telling them to speak the truth, to beware of foolish talking, to be industrious and honest, kind and charitable, to put away bitterness and evil-speaking, to be slow to take offence, and ready to forgive. And in the midst of these separate exhortations we find words of a very different kind, the words of the text, words which are so placed as to be the very centre and kernel of the whole, summing up in themselves the substance of all that has gone before and of all that comes after. For he speaks in them, not of any one particular duty, but of a rule of life from which all duties must most surely spring. He gives no new commandment, but he tells of a glorious guide. He speaks of a tender love which is watching us anxiously as we go up and down in the business or the pleasures of the day, of a Friend who has marked us out for the “day of redemption,” and is disappointed in us, grieved, distressed when we turn our backs upon Him and treat Him lightly. For such seems to be the meaning of the text—“Do not give pain to One who so loves you. He has come to your rescue, He has sealed you for a blessing; therefore, I beseech you, grieve Him not.”

Milton wrote his great poem, actuated by the strong desire that men might remember him and think of him long after he was dead: you remember the touching words in which he himself tells us so. And the little boy at the village school works his hardest to gain his prize, because he thinks how it will please his mother. You would not care much for any distinction you might get, or any success, if there were no one but yourself to know of it or to care for it. And you know whether, coming next after God’s grace, there be anything that does more to keep a youth, cast alone amid the temptations of a great city, in the right path, than the keeping up of the old home-feeling; and whether there be a safeguard more effectual than the ready suggestion of the great motive that grows out of it. What greater stimulus to duty than this?—“Now, you will be industrious, and honest, and good; and make them all happy at home!” And what healthier consideration in an hour of temptation to do wrong than that which comes first and most natural: “Oh, you will not do that, and break your mother’s heart!” It hath pleased God, in the words of the text, to appeal to us with just that homely consideration. “Grieve not”—the words are spoken to all of us—“the Holy Spirit of God.”1 [Note: A. K. H. Boyd, The Graver Thoughts of a Country Parson, 2nd Ser., 55.]

I

The Personality of the Holy Spirit

1. This is a classical passage in proof of the personality of the Spirit of God. The very fact that we may grieve Him implies His personality. He is more than an abstraction. Our mental attitude towards an attribute, an emanation, an influence, or an abstraction of any kind, would be very different from that which we instinctively assume towards the third Person of the blessed Trinity. Scripture does not shrink from speaking of God as being capable of feelings which for us can be represented only under human forms of emotion; God is represented as “being pleased,” as “joying,” as “delighting” in the love and obedience of His people, and He is also represented as “grieved,” “offended,” “angry,” “alienated,” by their sin; and we need not hesitate to follow where the Bible leads us. Indeed, it may be questioned whether God would be all that He is in His adorable and infinite nature if He were incapable of feeling both pleasure and pain; perfect love must mean the possibility of both. An old writer has said of the nature of God, “In the outer chambers may be sadness, but in the inner ones is unmixed joy.”

There is a gap, not only in our Christian creed, but also in our Christian experiences and joys and power, unless we have risen to this thought, that the Divine Spirit is not only an influence, a wind, a fire, an oil, a dove, a dew, but a Divine Person. We have to go back to the old creed—“I believe in God the Father Almighty … and in Jesus Christ His only Son our Lord … I believe in the Holy Ghost.”1 [Note: A. Maclaren.]

2. The Holy Spirit is always with us, a constant companion, and nothing is hid from Him. In this He witnesses to us the omnipresence of God; He makes God’s existence real to us, wherever we happen to be. However vast the numbers of the human race, the Holy Spirit is with every individual and knows every individual’s life. Do we speak a word? It falls upon the Spirit’s ear, as well as upon the ear of the person to whom we speak. Do we perform any action, good or bad? The Holy Spirit sees it and records it. Do we even think a thought? That thought is mirrored in the multitudinous mind of the Divine Spirit. We cannot escape from His presence.

Over the door of a church in Hamburg is a piece of statuary. In a marble chair sits a man upon whose knee rests a parchment. On this parchment his eyes are fixed, and in his right hand he holds a pen with which he seems to be writing. It is John the Evangelist. He thinks himself alone, yet he is not. An angel stands behind him gazing intently over his shoulder upon the parchment, and with his right hand he guides the pen. So the Holy Spirit is ever present with us, seeking to direct us.

3. Though more than an emanation or an influence, and though continually witnessing our character and our ways, the Holy Spirit is so gentle and sensitive that you never read of His wrath. You read of the wrath of God the Father; you read even of the wrath of the Lamb. But you never read of the wrath of the Spirit: and the imagery employed to describe Him and His influence on mankind is of the gentlest possible character. We have, for instance, the dew that descends silently from heaven, the rain that comes down upon the mown grass, the wind that rustles the leaves of the trees, or that sweeps away the clouds from the fair face of the sky; and if, as is once the case, the coming of this supernatural guest is symbolized by the fire and the tornado, the fire is that which gleams in harmless flame over the thoughtful brows of the first Christian disciples gathered together in the rough upper room; and the tornado is that which overthrows and destroys nothing, but only announces, by an over-powering sound, the presence of God, and bids the people assemble together to listen to His overtures of mercy. The Holy Ghost, then, is emphatically gentle and tender and kind. He excites no emotions of alarm, and yet we feel that, if He is a Being capable of entering into personal relations with us, our belief of this capability will necessarily influence in a marked degree the sentiments which we entertain towards Him, and the trust which we are inclined to repose in His help. And when we know the gentleness of the Spirit in His dealing with us, surely we shall deal gently with others.

It was indeed a gift of his nature to find out excellences, and to avoid seeing failure; although the gift was not needed in this case, where the real genius had existed and been attested. But its possession was well known to his friend “Ned Jones,” who once said, “Signor admires paintings that would make very good soles for his boots!” I remember repeating to my husband a remark of Mr. Du Maurier’s on the lenient view he always took of the foibles and faults of human nature; alas, I cannot now recall the humorous saying, at which Signor laughed heartily, and said, “Any affection that has been given to me, I am sure is due to the fact that it is difficult for me not to see the best in people. I think I am not deceived, but their good qualities are uppermost to me.”1 [Note: Mrs. Watts, George Frederic Watts, i. 171.]

II

How we may Grieve the Spirit

1. The Apostle has been referring to certain sins, such as falsehood, anger, bitterness, corrupt speech, and after warning his readers against them, he adds, “Grieve not the Holy Spirit of God.” It is sin, then, that grieves Him, sin that pains Him; and this is exactly the answer we should have expected, for He is the “Holy Spirit of God,” and all, therefore, that is evil and sinful He hates with a perfect hatred, and is “grieved” by it. The character of a man is always revealed as much by his deepest sorrows as by his highest joys. And the character of God is revealed in all its purity and holiness by the fact that the only thing in human life that grieves Him is sin.

A great difficulty with many is that they want power without purity and happiness without holiness; hence, when God puts His finger upon unclean and unlawful things, they shrink from the cost of renouncing them, and thus make it impossible for their prayer to be answered. There are in most lives mountains to be levelled, valleys to be exalted, crooked things to be made straight, and rough places to be made plain before the glory of the Lord can be revealed, and it is just here that so many fail. It often means a very serious matter this renunciation of what is revealed as iniquity, involving changes in many realms of life, possibly touching the sphere of the affections or the possessions, the inner habits of life or the outward details of conduct; but it is a much more serious thing to continue a controversy with God and thus prevent the Holy Spirit possessing His own temple. It is an actual impossibility to receive the Holy Spirit while grasping anything that God has condemned. The hand of faith must be empty in order to receive.1 [Note: J. S. Holden, The Spirit of Life, 62.]

The thinnest sheet of paper placed under the trolly of an electric car will stop the car, provided it is not punctured by the mechanical pressure. Cut a copper wire carrying an electric current, file the ends square, place a piece of writing paper between the ends and press them together: the current which was transmitting thousands of horse-power is stopped; it is incapable of passing through the insulating substance of the paper. No other agency for transmitting power can be stopped by such slight obstacles as electricity. A sheet of writing paper placed across a tube conveying compressed air would be instantly ruptured. It would take a wall of steel at least an inch thick to stand the pressure which is driving a 10,000 horse-power engine. A thin layer of dirt beneath the wheels of an electric ear can prevent the current which propels the car from passing to the rails, and thus back to the power house. So sensitive is the Holy Spirit to sin in the heart of a believer that its presence there is a complete obstacle to the manifestation of His love and power.2 [Note: C. H. Tyndall, Electricity and its Similitudes, 78.]

(1) He is grieved by insincerity and falsehood, for He is the Spirit of truth.—All that is against truth, all that is against justice and honesty, is hateful to Him. He is grieved at all falsehood, in word or in deed. How much is He grieved then at the insincerity of Christians towards one another, when we change our words towards our neighbours to their face and behind their back; when we speak them fair as long as they are before us, but have quite a different story when they are gone and cannot hear our opinion of them; when we make a show of friendship as long as we think they may be useful to us and do us good, but speak roughly as soon as we have nothing more to get from them. Surely there can be few greater griefs to the Spirit of truth and faithfulness than to see those whom He is striving to bring into the ways of truth so hollow in heart, so full of false professions, and unmeaning, untrue words.

Among her many virtues, one thinks first of her sincerity. She gave to everybody an immediate sense of truth, such as we have when a sum comes right. She could not be disloyal or disingenuous; she had no use for any sort of trick or artifice; it was not in her to act or pose or rehearse effects.1 [Note: Said of Mrs. Paget, in Francis Paget, Bishop of Oxford, 75.]

“More and more,” he said once, “I see that nothing is so necessary for the religious condition of the mind as absolute simplicity. We know what we have got to do, and the only thing is to ask ourselves whether we are doing it as well as we can.”2 [Note: George Frederic Watts, ii. 224.]

(2) He is grieved by malice and unkindness, for He is the Spirit of love.—How must it grieve Him to see how love is set at nought among Christian people. How must it grieve Him to see how little some people seem to think of cherishing malice and ill-will in their hearts, to see how hard a matter it is to get them to give up a quarrel and really forgive what they suppose is an injury. How must it grieve Him as He accompanies us through the day, watching our dangers, ever anxious to help our weakness, to hear the words of unkindness, of peevishness, of jealousy, which drop from our mouths as the hours wear on, and which we take no care to stop. How must He grieve at the uncharitable suspicions and surmises, at the obstinacy with which we try to put the worst appearance on things, and stretch them from the truth to make them seem as bad as possible.

We have read of the old teacher Pythagoras, who had a school of rhetoric, dialectic, and general disputation. All the scholars in the school, we read, used to spring at one another, so to say, and in hot dispute chase the hours of the day; but their habit was, when the shadows gathered and the school was done, to fall upon each other and with a kiss of peace and brotherhood to close the intellectual fray.3 [Note: J. Parker, The Epistle to the Ephesians, 126.]

2. The great instrumentality of the Holy Ghost is conscience. There is a natural conscience in every heathen man, according to which he will be judged at the last day. In the Christian the conscience is more—it is the vehicle of the voice of the Holy Ghost. It needs, of course, to be instructed, or else it will be a morbid or false conscience. But the Spirit’s seal is on the conscience. And to silence conscience is to grieve the Spirit. By resisting His warnings and whisperings in our consciences, by going contrary to what He puts into our hearts and makes us see to be right, by refusing to be led by Him when He shows us what we ought to do, we may show more and more that we do not belong to Him, that we do not wish for His help and guidance, that we prefer to walk alone, till at last, wearied out by our provocations and hardness of heart, He lets us have our way, and gives us up to the imaginations of our own hearts. That is what we are always in danger of whenever we grieve Him. That is what we must come to if we grieve Him too long, and presume too far on His patience.

Dean Stanley recalls a well-known German picture representing a young man playing at chess with the Tempter of his soul. There he sits, intent upon the game; he sees only the moves of the pieces immediately before him; he thinks he will still win the game. Opposite to him sits the Fiend, exulting over an easy prey. Already piece after piece has been taken; here a good deed gone, there a prayer removed; a few more successful moves on the Tempter’s part, and the game is won—and the soul is lost. But there is yet another figure in the picture, which gives to the scene at once a deeper pathos and also a ray of hope. Behind the young man, unseen by him, unnoticed by the Tempter, stands the Guardian Angel of his soul. The wings are already spread for flight: the face is already turning away. “It is a face not of anger, not of disappointment, not of despair, not of resistance, but of profound compassion and grief.”

III

The Great Motive for not Grieving the Spirit

We stand in a high relationship to Him. We have been sealed in Him unto the day of redemption.

1. In what does this sealing consist?—The Apostle explains elsewhere. “Nevertheless the foundation of God standeth sure, having this seal, The Lord knoweth them that are his. And, Let every one that nameth the name of Christ depart from iniquity.” From which we learn that it is a “seal” which has, if one may so speak, two sides, which make two impressions, which together complete the spiritual “sealing.” The one, God’s electing grace—“The Lord knoweth them that are his “; and the other, our own personal progress in holiness—“Let every one that nameth the name of Christ depart from iniquity.” And God’s election, and our sanctification, the consequence of election, make the “seal.”

That this is the “seal” of which the Apostle is speaking to the Ephesians is confirmed by the words that he adds—“unto the day of redemption”—implying that it then ceases. For, as soon as the redeemed soul takes its redeemed body, the danger will be all over; the Proprietor will be come back, and He will unseal the casket, and take out the jewel, because He wants it for His own crown.

If we can learn aright how Christ was sealed, we shall learn how we are sealed. The sealing of Christ by the Father is the communication of the Holy Spirit in fulness to Him, authorizing Him unto and acting His Divine power in all the acts and duties of His office, so as to evidence the presence of God with Him and approbation of Him. God’s sealing of believers then is His gracious communication of the Holy Spirit unto them so to act His divine power in them as to enable them unto all the duties of their holy calling, evidencing them to be accepted with Him both for themselves and others, and asserting their preservation unto eternal life.1 [Note: John Owen, Discourse Concerning the Spirit.]

2. The seal is the mark of ownership.—When men put their mark upon an article, it is to show that it is their own. The farmer brands his tools that they may not be stolen. They are his. The shepherd marks his sheep that they may be recognized as belonging to his flock. So the Holy Spirit puts His mark of ownership upon the hearts of all His people. He seals us. “They shall be mine,” saith the Lord of Hosts, “in the day that I make up my jewels.” And then the Spirit puts God’s seal upon us to signify that we are God’s reserved inheritance—His peculiar people, the portion in which His soul delights.

What, is said here to be sealed is not any external promise or assurance, however rich, however infallible: it is the Christian himself, his own actual personality, that is the recipient of the sealing. And here, perhaps, we may be reminded that in the great discourse in the sixth chapter of St. John’s Gospel, our Lord, having to prove that He can give to His followers the food that endureth to eternal life, affirms that He Himself was “sealed” by the Father, that is, was solemnly declared by the Father to be the true Christ. Yet we may discern the idea of ownership as recurring, though less distinctly, in this passage also; for in the context our Lord asserts a special Sonship as inhering in Himself, “My Father giveth you the true bread from heaven,” as if the fundamental thought, in regard to the sealing connected with His Incarnate Person, were just this, that He was attested as God’s own Son.

“How hot it is!” cried a stick of sealing-wax. “It’s positively exhausting. I can’t stand much more of this!” And thereupon the poor thing began to bend and twist under the heat. But it grew hotter and hotter still, as a cruel hand kept it remorselessly in the flame of a candle. Then the wax began to melt, and portions dropped off on to a sheet of paper placed to receive them; and these were moulded into shape under pressure of a signet. “Really,” said the sealing-wax, “I didn’t know I could look so splendid. Just see this crest!” Adversity tends to the development of character. Fire makes the Divine crest beautiful. The marble of the Christian character gleams the whiter, the gold and silver and precious stones flash the brighter, the colours glow the more beautiful, because of the fierce lights of time. Reserved by Divine love and grace unto the day of redemption,

The ills we see,

The mysteries of sorrow deep and long,

The dark enigmas of permitted wrong,

Have all one key!

This strange, sad world is but our Father’s school,

All chance and change His love shall grandly overrule.1 [Note: W. Burrows.]

In Eastern countries clay is sometimes used instead of wax for the purpose of sealing. The wax may melt, while the clay hardens by reason of the heat of the climate. In the Book of Job it is said, “It is turned as clay to the seal; and they stand as a garment.” Any impression made upon the clay will become more distinct as the sun’s rays pour down and become fiercer. Some retire into monasteries and convents to find shelter; some retire into themselves. Let us be as well-seasoned clay, to derive shape and comeliness even from the world’s fierce light, which beats upon the throne of our natures. Be as clay, and the writing upon the seal will come out the more clearly the more glaringly the world’s suns and fires may shine and burn.1 [Note: W. Burrows.]

3. The seal indicates guardianship.—A seal is used for preserving as well as for attesting. The Eastern seals up his money-bags to secure the gold within, and we seal our letters to guard the enclosure. A seal is Set for security. Now, as the only way by which we can be known to be Christians is by really possessing the supernatural power of the Holy Ghost, so, also, the only way by which we can be kept as Christians, and preserved from going back to the world, is by still possessing that same Holy Spirit. What are we if the Spirit of God be gone? Salt that has lost its savour, wherewith can we be salted? “Trees twice dead, plucked up by the roots … wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness for ever.” The Holy Spirit is to us not a luxury, but a necessity: we must have Him, or we die.

Eastern locks could be opened with ease. Solomon has an allusion to this when he says, “My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my heart was moved for him” (Song of Solomon 5:4, R.V.). A seal was placed over the door of the house where property was deposited. The Pharisees caused a watch to be set, and made the sepulchre sure, sealing the stone. When Daniel was cast into the lions’ den, “a stone was brought, and laid upon the mouth of the den; and the king sealed it with his own signet, and with the signet of his lords; that the purpose might not be changed concerning Daniel” (Daniel 6:17). Christians are sealed with God’s own signet, that the Divine purposes of love and mercy may be fully established. As the blood was sprinkled upon the doorposts of the children of Israel to save from the destroying angel, so God marks His own with His own signet for security.2 [Note: Ibid.]

You have some valuable property—it may be gold or jewels—and you are going abroad for a season. Anxious for your precious things, you gather them carefully up, and you put on them your “seal,” your name to the seal. The “seal” marks them yours while you are away, and secures them from being lost or stolen. So long as they are under the “seal,” they cannot be removed or hurt; and you look to find them, in their sure keeping, when you come back. And your great Proprietor, who has spent so much on you, is gone away for a time. He has gone to a far country. But He is to return; and when He returns, His longing desire is to find you unharmed and beautiful, and still His own.1 [Note: James Vaughan.]

You watch a ship as it is being loaded for a voyage, and amongst other cargo you notice a number of boxes bearing a significant seal. These are not stowed away in the hold like consignments of common goods, but are taken to some place where they will be constantly watched by the responsible officers of the ship. The chests are chests of sealed treasure. Should the ship spring a leak and be endangered, after the safety of the passengers has been provided for, these sealed chests will be the first things to be put into the lifeboats. If pirates should succeed in boarding the vessel, the great fight will be round these sealed chests. Should the ship go down into the depths, these sealed chests will be the first things the divers will seek to bring back to the surface. The seal marks them out for special care and defence, and whatever human vigilance, foresight, and valour can do will be done to deliver them to the consignees. And so with that sealing of the Spirit affixed to sincere believers in Jesus Christ. They are subject to the same risks, vicissitudes, and temptations as other men; but all that God’s power can do to help and deliver them shall be done, and when the final catastrophe of death shall come into the horizon and bury all things in a common desolation, these shall be the first to be brought back again from the depths of earth. This special sealing marks out body and soul alike for God’s special possession and guardianship. His sealed servants shall never perish.2 [Note: T. G. Selby, The Holy Spirit, 98.]

4. The seal lasts until the day of redemption.—The term “redemption” is one of the broadest and most elastic in the New Testament vocabulary. A cursory glance will show us that it does not merely denote the ransom Christ once offered for our salvation, or even our experimental deliverance from the power of sin in the present life. The word covers the rescue of God’s people from the last trace of sin’s dominion in death and their elevation to share the glory of Jesus Christ on high. A similar comprehensiveness in the use of the word is to be found in the First Epistle to the Corinthians, where St. Paul speaks in an ascending series of “wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption.” If redemption points chiefly to Christ’s work on the cross, we should expect it to be put before righteousness and sanctification; but because it is the wider term, Paul puts it last, and makes it include not only rescue from the moral perversity bred into human character by sin, but from every pain, abasement, and physical debility that has followed in its train.

The seal is not to be broken until the proper authorities and witnesses are present, and all the purpose of such sealing has been answered. Christians are sealed unto the day of redemption, unto that day when redemption shall be perfected in glory. This sealing is both retrospective and prospective. It looks back to Calvary and onward to heaven. The day when the terms of our spiritual purchase were agreed to, when the Divine compact was settled, when the seal was affixed, was the day when the Saviour said, “It is finished.” We come into part enjoyment of this redemption on earth. In heaven all the terms of the agreement will be fully manifested and enjoyed. “Ye are sealed unto the day of redemption.” Whatever may be the trials and difficulties through which we have to pass, however much we may be tossed on the heaving ocean of life, let us not abate our courage or lose our heart, for we are reserved unto the day of redemption. Let us not think that we are the children of fate, the mere toys of blind circumstances, the playthings of tyrannical and unreasoning force; for we are reserved unto the day of redemption. Yes, God, the loving and all-wise God, has mysterious methods of reservation. He may reserve in poverty, in trial, in sickness drear, in sore bereavement, in heart anguish, in soul throbbings of fearful measure, when waves and billows toss and groan and sweep with fury. Still God reserves; and sometimes thus reserves that the crest on the seal may be all the brighter.

When Daguerre was working at his sun pictures his great difficulty was to make them permanent. The light came and imprinted the image, but when the tablet was drawn from the camera, the image had vanished. He discovered, however, the chemical power which turned the evanescent into the permanent. And the day is coming when the image of Christ will be stamped so indelibly by the Spirit upon the mind of man that it can never fade.

What is the one decisive sign by which we may know whether we have received the Holy Ghost? Is it to be a mere sentiment, an impression upon the mind, a religious hope; or is it to be something more decisive, emphatic, and incontrovertible? Do you ask a question? I am prepared with a reply. What is the one decisive sign that a man has received the Holy Ghost? Let me approach that question through two others. Have you received the poetic spirit? How do you prove it? Not by prose, but by poetry. Have you received the heroic spirit? How do you prove it? Not by cowardice, not by craven-heartedness, but by adventure, by freely encountering peril in all its thousand forms and possibilities of visitation. Have you received the Holy Spirit? The decisive sign is love of holiness—not power of theological debate, not only contending for the faith once delivered to the saints, not only outwardly irreproachable character, but love of holiness—not reputation, but reality; a heart that pants after the holiness of God—life concentrated into one burning prayer to be sanctified, body, soul, and spirit—life a sacrifice on God’s altar—that is what I mean by saying that holiness is the one decisive test of our having received the Holy Ghost.1 [Note: Joseph Parker.]

Ah Lord, we all have pierced Thee: wilt Thou be

Wroth with us all to slay us all?

Nay, Lord, be this thing far from Thee and me:

By whom should we arise, for we are small,

By whom if not by Thee?

Lord, if of us who pierced Thee Thou spare one,

Spare yet one more to love Thy Face,

And yet another of poor souls undone,

Another, and another—God of grace,

Let mercy overrun.2 [Note: Christina G. Rossetti, Poems, 137.]

Grieving the Spirit

Literature

Atkin (J. W.), The Paraklete, 62.

Barrett (G. S.), Musings for Quiet Hours, 40.

Boyd (A. K. H.), The Graver Thoughts of a Country Parson, ii. 54.

Bright (W.), Morality in Doctrine, 88.

Burrows (H. W.), Lenten and other Sermons, 120.

Calthrop (G.) In Christ, 128.

Chapman (J. W.), The Power of a Surrendered Life, 81.

Church (R. W.), Village Sermons, ii. 307.

Lowry (S. C.), The Work of the Holy Spirit, 87.

Maclaren (A.), Expositions: The Epistle to the Ephesians, 262.

Moore (E. W.), The Spirit’s Seal, 45.

Selby (T. G.), The Holy Spirit and Christian Privilege, 91.

Spurgeon (C. H.), New Park Street Pulpit, v. 425.

De Teissier (G. F.), Village Sermons, iv. 254.

Vallings (J. F.), The Holy Spirit of Promise, 154.

Vaughan (C. J.), The Presence of God in His Temple, 228.

Vaughan (J.), Sermons (Brighton Pulpit), iv. No. 493; ix. No. 790.

Christian World Pulpit, xii. 74 (Beecher).

Churchman’s Pulpit, Nineteenth Sunday after Trinity, xii. 488 (Moberly).

Clergyman’s Magazine, 3rd Ser., 219 (Burrows).

Literary Churchman, xx. (1874) 237; xxiv. (1878) 420.

Preacher’s Magazine, vi. (1895) 217 (Gordon).