image and superscription upon it, can do to make
or to mar the fortunes of God's kingdom, which spreads and rules like
the dawn, like the moisture in the south wind, like the blush of spring,
like the splendour of summer, like everything that is quickened by the
breath of God. Tribute! We are always perplexing ourselves about
tribute--a steady stream of regular contributions, a flood-tide of
golden gifts. It is our measure of power. Quite other is Christ's. His
power flashes like lightning from one part under heaven, and shineth to
the other part which is under heaven. The world flashes into light,
glows into life in a moment, when the times of refreshing, of
quickening, come down from God. Men catch it from each other's eyes,
each other's lips. It spreads as flame, and gathers strength as it
widens its circuit. Money, social and political influence, the force of
this world, all that seems solid and potent to men while they are
enacting the masque of life which we call living, faint back like
rushlights in the lightning's flash, like aged institutions in the hour
of revolution, when the breath of the Spirit as at Pentecost is falling
on the world. I speak, and I am quite sure the sacred writers spoke, in
no scorn of money. No _thing_ is base: we keep our hate, our scorn, for
base spirits, not for things. But for money Paul must have starved, and
the kingdom must have perished in its birth. What the Lord means us to
understand is that money is the inevitable satellite of higher things.
Spirits in earnest movement sweep it with them in their course, as the
earth sweeps its atmosphere. Give us hearts of fire, fire that kindles
and flashes from heart to heart, from peak to peak of the human; and
what work will wait long for gold? Men who in common levels of interest
dole out their tens and hundreds, and feel some dull glow of
satisfaction stirring the stagnation of their hearts, scatter forth
their thousands when God fires their spirits, and their whole being is
alive and thrills with joy. Money! nothing greatly spiritual was ever
made by money, or was ever marred by money in this world.

There is a touch of scorn in the Saviour's words, "_Shew me the tribute
money_." Scorn of the vain worldly mind that was perplexing itself about
tribute, while the love of God and the belief in judgment were fast
dying out of human hearts. One sacred conviction in their hearts would
have answered the question, and lifted them above the sph