t is a
safe guide, and whatever God has appointed there we can go and that we
can do. 'On the bells of the horses shall be written _Holiness to the
Lord_.' The horse-bells that make merry music on their bridles are not
very sacred things, but they bear the same inscription as flamed on the
front of the high priest's mitre; and the bowls in every house in
Jerusalem, as the prophet says, shall bear the same inscription that was
written on the sacrificial vessels, and all shall belong to Him.

Only, whilst thus we maintain the possibility of exhibiting Godlike
holiness in all the dusty fields of common life, let us remember the
other side.

In this day there is very little need to preach against an ascetic
Christianity. There has been enough said of late years about a Christian
man being entitled to go into all fields of occupation and interest, and
there to live his Christianity. I think the time is about come for a
caution or two to be dropped on the other side, 'Blessed is he that
condemneth not himself in the thing which he alloweth.' Apply this
commandment vigorously and honestly to trade, to recreation--especially
to recreation--to social engagements, to the choice of companions, to
the exercise of tastes. Ask yourselves 'Can I write _Holiness to the
Lord_ on them?' If not, do not have anything to do with them. I wonder
what the managers of theatres and music-halls would say if anybody
proposed that motto to be put upon the curtain for the spectators to
read before it is drawn up for the play. Do you think it would fit?
Don't you, Christian men and women, don't you go into places where it
would not fit. And remember that 'in all manner of conversation' has two
sides to it, one declaring the possibility of sanctifying every creature
of God, and one declaring the impossibility of a Christian man going,
without dreadful danger and certain damage, into places where he cannot
carry that consecration and purity with him.

Again the field is all trivial things. 'In all manner of conversation.'
There is nothing that grows so low but that this scythe will travel near
enough to the ground to harvest it. There is nothing so minute but it is
big enough to mirror the holiness of God. The tiniest grain of mica,
upon the face of the hill, is large enough to flash back a beam; and the
smallest thing we can do is big enough to hold the bright light of
holiness. 'All'! Ah! If our likeness to God does not show itself in
trifles, wha