Published Weekly. Price $1.50 a year, or 5 cents single copy "Some great cause, God's new Messiah" MESSIAH PULPIT NEW YORK (Being a continuation of Unity Pulpit, Boston) Entered at the Post-office, Boston, Mass., as second-class mail matter. MR. SAVAGE'S BOOKS. SERMONS AND ESSAYS. Christianity the Science of Manhood. 187 pages. Religious Reconstruction. 246 pages. 1888 Life. 237 pages. 1890 1873 $1.00 1.50 1.00 1.00 1.00 1.00 1.00 1,00 1.00 1884 1.00 1.00 1.00 1.00 1.00 1.00 1.00 1.00 .25 .50 1.00 The Evolution of Christianity. 178 pages. Is this a Good World? 60 pages. 1893. Paper A Man. 183 pages. 1895. Religion for To-day. Our Unitarian Gospel. 250 pages. 1897 282 p ges 1898 Mr. Savage's weekly sermons are regularly printed in pam phlet form in "Messiah Pulpit." season, $1.50; single copy, 5 cents. WHAT SHALL I DO FOR MYSELF THIS YEAR? I FIND my text in the twelfth chapter of the Gospel according to Luke, a part of the seventeenth verse,"And he reasoned with himself, saying, What shall I do?" The fate of this man in the parable sometimes impresses us as a little harsh. He is called a fool. God is represented as using that term as applied to him. But of course he did not know that he was going to die that night. It is true that he did not know; but he knew that he might. And it is natural that with his increasing prosperity he should consider what he should do with all his corn and his goods. But it is not a very high ideal, when he determines that he will say to himself, Take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry. So perhaps, after all, he deserved the epithet that was applied to him. He asks, 'What shall I do?" So far he was wise. It seems to me that, as we stand here, near the beginning, the practical beginning, of another year, we should ask ourselves this simple question, What shall I do this year, -what shall I try to do for myself? We will waive the matter of doing for others until next Sunday. What shall I try to do for myself this year? But, in order to answer that reasonably, we must ask and answer another question first: What kind of a being am I? What is the kind of life that is fit for me? I must find out first, or, if I cannot find out with absolute certainty, I must make up my mind first, as to what sort of a person I am. Let us get at this thought by way of an illustration. Suppose a tree to become self-conscious, to be able to control, within certain limits, its location and its growth. It would need in the first place to ask: What kind of a tree am I? Am I merely for ornament? Am I chiefly for shade? Am I a fruit-tree, and, if a fruit-tree, what kind of fruit am I expected to bear? In other words, the tree would need to find out what kind of a tree it was, and then attempt to realize its own possibilities. The same would be true of the animals. What would a dog do with himself, or try to do? It would depend upon whether he was a lap-dog or a watch-dog or a hunter's dog. This must be settled first. Then try to find out how you can become the best possible of your kind. So of a horse. Is it to be a race-horse or only an ordinary carriage horse? What is he going to be? Is a bird chiefly distinguished for its plumage or for its song? Precisely the same in regard to ourselves. Are we animals only? When we get through this life, is that the end? We need to make up our minds about it. It is hardly worthy of us to postpone it, to hope that we are souls, and yet live as though we were animals. That is hardly reasonable. You will see of course how important a matter this decision is. Suppose I knew that I was going to live only six months: it would be perfectly reasonable for me to lay out my life with merely those six months in view. It would be absurd for me to undertake a course of training that would need twenty years to carry through. It would be absurd for me to lay out some great scheme of a life-work that would require years for its accomplishment. I have only six months to live. Let me put into those six months as much of enjoyment and as much of good for myself and everybody else as I can; but I will live only for six months. Suppose you have only this life here on earth. Your soul may be required of you, if you have one, to-night. It may be next year, it may be after forty or fifty years. But suppose that you have made up your mind that this is all there is to it. If you have good and satisfactory reason for that belief, why, then, I do not see how I can find fault with you for living in accordance with it,— live as a man would who had nothing beyond the body and the faculties that he possesses here. It would be absurd, if you are sure of that, to spend your time in trying to develop qualities and characteristics that would be of no special use to you here, but might if you are going to live over yonder. Do you not see how practical a matter this is? There are thousands of people to-day who are leaving it one side, considering it of no great importance, saying, If I wake up after the incident of death, all right; if I do not, then all right. It may be a difficult matter to settle. You may think it is; but it seems to me of immense practical importance that in the light of the best evidence you can get you make up your mind, because it has everything to do with the way you will live to-day and to-morrow and next week. Will you live only as an animal? Then look after your health. Do not abuse yourself over-much. Take what comfort you can. Get all you can out of life, and go to sleep. But, if you are a soul, then everything here becomes rational, subordinate to that one conception. If you think the probabilities are that you are a soul and that death is not the end, then the only reasonable thing for you to do is to live as if you were a soul. Because, if you are going on forever, forever, then twenty or forty or eighty years are as nothing; and what you will do here and what you will get here and what you enjoy here is of practically very little account except as related to |