Did you ever stand in some roofless, ruined cathedral or abbey church, and try to gather round you the generations that had bowed and worshipped there?  Did you ever step across the threshold of some ancient sanctuary, where the feet of vanished generations had worn down the sand-stone steps at the entrance?  It is solemn to think of the fleeting series of men; it is still more striking to bring them into connection with that everlasting Word which once they heard, and accepted or rejected.

But let me bring the thought a little closer.  There is not a sitting in our churches that has not been sat in by dead people.  As I stand here and look round I can re-people almost every pew with faces that we shall see no more.  Many of you, the older habitues of this place, can do the same, and can look and think, ’Ah! he used to sit there; she used to be in that corner.’  And I can remember many mouldering lips that have stood in this place where I stand, of friends and brethren that are gone.  ‘Your fathers, where are they?’ ‘Graves under us, silent,’ is the only answer.  ‘And the prophets, do they live for ever?’ No memories are shorter-lived than the memories of the preachers of God’s Word.

Take another thought, that all these past hearers and speakers of the Word had that Word verified in their lives.  ’Took it not hold of your fathers?’ Some of them neglected it, and its burdens were upon them, little as they felt them sometimes.  Some of them clave to it, and accepted it, and its blessed promises were all fulfilled to them.  Not one of those who, for the brief period of their earthly lives, came in contact with that divine message but realised, more or less consciously, some blessedly and some in darkened lives and ruined careers, the solemn truth of its promises and of its threatenings.  The Word may have been received, or it may have been neglected, by the past generations; but whether the members thereof put out a hand to accept, or withheld their grasp, whether they took hold of it or it took hold of them—­wherever they are now, their earthly relation to that word is a determining factor in their condition.  The syllables died away into empty air, the messages were forgotten, but the men that ministered them are eternally influenced by the faithfulness of their ministrations, and the men that heard them are eternally affected by the reception or rejection of that word.  So, when we summon around us the congregation of the dead, which is more numerous than the audience of the living to whom I now speak, the lesson that their silent presence teaches us is, ’Wherefore we should give the more earnest heed to the things that we have heard.’

II.  Let us note the abiding Word, which these transient generations of hearers and speakers have had to do with.