A Modern Sermon—' Old Mother Hub

Otago Witness, Issue 1522, 8 January 1881, Page 27

A Modern Sermon—' Old Mother Hub-

The following exhibits the method upon which the average parson constructs his delectable discourses :—: —

'Brethren, the words of my text are, 'Old Mother Hubbard, she went to the cupboard, To get her poor dog a bone ; But when she got there the cupboard was bare, And so the poor dog had none.

'These beautiful words, dear friends, carry with them a solemn lesson, I propose this evening to analyse their meaning, and to attempt to apply it, lofty as it may be, to our everyday life. 1 Old Mother Hubbard, she went'to the cupboard To get her poor dog a bone. "

•Mother Hubbard, you see, was oldj there being no mention of others, we may presume that Bhe was alone; a widow — a •friendless, old, solitary widow. Yet did she despair ? Did she sit down and weep or read a novel, or wring her hands ? No ! she went to the cupboard. And here observe that she went to the oupboard. She did not hop, or skip, or run, or jump, or use any other peripatetic artifice ; she solely and merely went to the cupboard. ' We have seen that she was old and lonely, and we now further see that she was poor. For, mark, the words are " the cupboard." Not " one of the cupboards," or the " righthand cupboard," or the "left-hand cupboard," or the one above, or the one below, or the one under the floor, but just the cupboard—the one humble little cupboard the poor widow possessed. And why did she go to the cupboard ? Was it to bring forth golden goblets, or glittering precious stones, or costly [apparel, or feasts, or any other attributes of wealth ? It was to get her poor dog a bone ! Not only was the widow poor, but her dog, the sole prop of her age, was poor too. We can imagine the scene. The poor dog crouching in the corner, looking wistfully at the solitary cupboard, and the widow going to that cupboard — in hope, in expectation, maybe — to open it, although we are not distinctly told that it was not half open or ajar — to open it for that poor dog. ' But when sho got there the cupboard was bare, And so the poor dog had none.

' When she got there ! You see, dear brethren, what perseverance is. You see the beauty of persistence in doing right. She got there. There were no turnings and twistings, no slippings and slidings, no leanin eja to the right or faltering? to the left. With glorious simplicity we are told, she got there. 1 And how was her noble effort rewarded ? ' The cupboard was bare ! It was bare. There were to be found neither apples nor oranges, nor I cheesecakes, nor penny buns, nor gingerbread, nor crackers, nor nuts, nor luoifer matches. The cupboard was bare ! There was but one, only one solitary cupboard in the whole of that cottage, and that one, the sole hope of the widow and the glorious loadstar of the poor dog, was bare 1 Had there been a leg of mutton, a loin of lamb, a fillet of veal, even an ice from Gunter's, the case would have, been different, the incident would have been otherwise. Bat it was bare, my brethren, bare as a bald head, bare as an infant born without a oaul.

• Many of you will probably say, with all the pride of worldly sophistry, " The widow, no doubt, went out and bought a dog 'biscuit." Ah, no ! Far removed from these earthly ideas, these mundane desires, poor Mother Hubbard, the widow whom many thoughtless worldlings would despise, in that she only owned one cupboard, perceived — or I night even say saw— at once the relentless logic of the situation, and yielded to it with all the heroism of that nature which had enabled her without deviation to reach the barren cupboard. She did not attempt, like the stiff-necked scoffers of this generation, to war against the inevitable ; she did not try, like the 80-called men of science, to explain what she did not understand. She did nothing. '< The poor dog had none |" And then at this point pur information ceases. Bat do we not know sufficient ? Are we not cognisant of enough ? 1 Who would dare to pierce the veil that shrouds $he ulterior fate of old Mother Hubbard, her poor dog, the oupboard, or the bone that waa not there ? Must we imagine her

still standing at the open oupboard door, de pict to ourselves the dog still drooping his disappointed tail upon the floor, the soughtfor bone still remaining somewhere else ? Ah, no, my dear brethren, we are not so permitted to attempt to read the future. Suffice it for us to glean from this beautiful story its many lessons ; suffice it for us to apply them, to study them as far as in us lies, and, bearing in mind the natural frailty of our nature, to avoid being widows ; to shun the patronymic of Hubbard ; to have, if our means afford it, more than one cupboard in the house ; and to keep stores in them all. And, oh ! dear friends, keeping in recolleotion what we have learned this day, let us avoid keeping dogs that are fond of bones. But, brethren, if we do,— if Fate has ordained that we should do any of these things, — let ua then go, as Mother Hubbard did, straight, without curveting of prancing, to our cupboard, empty though it be— let ua, like her, accept the inevitable with calm steadfastness ; and should we, like her, ever be left with a hungry dog and an empty cupboard, may, future chroniclers be able to write also of us, ia the beautiful words of our text — ' And so the poor dog had none. 1