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wmmmmm^

f ■

•

WARNING ^^=^^-

AND

WELCOME

SERMONS PREACHED IN

ZION PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, BRANTFORD,

DURING 187C.

REV, WILLIAM COCHRANE, D. D.

(Author of the " Heavtnli/ Vi/iion,'' " Christ and Christiun

Li/e," dtc.)

,»

T< IKONTO :

Au.ui Stevenhun il Co. ; and Willino it Wilua.mbon.

Btiavtford : Jonx Stttherlakd.

1S77.

■f

,tf#

Daily ExpoHiTOK Steam Ppintinu Housh,
<^tor(;k St., Urantfohi).

^r. l^oW T^iitm,

Cincinnati, Ohio, U. S.

WHOSE GENEROUS KINDKESS THE WRITER HOLDS IN GRATEFUL
1^ REMEMBRANCE.

THESE PAGES

Are Afpbctionatelt Dedicated.

PREFATOBY NOTE.

The Sermons in this Vohime ai-e addressed cliiefly to
the unconverted. The simphcity of the Gospel offer— its
freenoss and fuUness— and the reasonableness and neces-
sity of immediate surrender to the Lord Jesus Christ are
the topics discussed. In several oases the words as spoken
have led to decision,— may many more who read them,
" beHeve and live."

Hrantford. Out., January 1st, 1877.

56S81

«>

C N T E N T S.

PAOI.

Warning \nd V\'klc!omk.

" Whosoever heareth the Roiud of the trumpet, and taketh not
warning, his blood Hhall be upon hiH own head. * « * ^
Say unto them, An I Uve, saitli the Lord God, I have no plea-
riure in the death of the wicked ; but that the wicked turn
from his way and live. Turn ye, turn ye from your evil
ways; for why will ye die, O houKe of ; Israel?" — Ezeriki.
38rd, V. 4 and U .'

" But He "Was a Leper."

" Now Naamon, captain of the host of the King of Syria, wan a
great man with his master, and honorable, because by him
the Lord had given deliverance unto Syria : he was also a
mighty man of valor ; but he was a leper." — 2nd Kings 5th,
y. 1

Sowing and Reaping.

" Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap in mercy: break up
yonr fallow ground ; for it is time to sf^ek the Lord, till he
come and rain righteousness upon you."— Hosba 10th, v. 13.

IV.

The AccEPTEi; Time.

"Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of
salvation." — 2nd Corinthians 6th, v. 2

•ifi

.18

A Soul Forsaken.
" God is departed from me."~lsT Sauuel 28th, v. 15,

VI CONTENTS,

VI.

Keeping the Heart.

" Kiitip thy heart with all (lili|<once, for out of it artt the iHHUeH of

lifp."— Provkrhh 4tli. V. 28 62

VII.

The (iohpei. Offkh.

" And tlifl spirit and thu bridu .suy cuiue. And lot him that
huaretli Hay uoiue. And let him that in atliirnt coiiu'. Aud
whosoever will let him take the water of life freely." — Rev>:
r.ATiON 22nd. v. 17 7.H

VIII.
The Nature of Faith.

' ' If they hear not Moses and the prophets neither will they be
be persuaded thouj^h one rose from the dead." — Lokb 16th,
V. 81

IX.

" The Voice of Spring."

" My beloved spake and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair
one, and come away. For lo, the winter is past ; the raiu is
over and gone; the Howers appear upon the eartli ; the time
of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is
hoard in the land : the tig tree putteth forth her green figs,
and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise,
my love, my fair one, and come away." — Song of Sonob 2ud,
V lO-l.S 1)7

Calvary.

" And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice,
saying, EU, Eli, lama sabacthani ? That is to say. My God,
my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" — Matthew 27th,
V. 46 109

XI.

•' Nothing but Leaves."

"When He came to it. He found nothing but leaves. '—Mark
xi., 18 121

"d'l.

«?

CONTKNTH.

VII

•^•v

«?

XII.

ThK (iortPEI, HlUDKN.

"But if our guBpel bo hid, it in hid to thorn thnt ar(> IohI : In whom
the God of thin world hath hlittdt>d tho niindH of thum which
heliovc not, leHt tliu li^ht of the ^hiriiiiiHf^tmpcl of ChriHt, who
JH tho imago of (iod, should Hhiiic imto tlii'm." — 2kt> Coiuh-
THIANB, iv. »-4 -. . . 181

XIII.

Skntimkntal Kkligion.

"Autl thiTc followed him agrent company of pfoplu, and of wrmii-u.
which hIho bowiiilcd and lamented him. 15ut .Ichuh tiiminK
uuto them, said. Daughters of tTeruRalem, weep not for me.
hut weep for yourselves and for vour cliildreii." - Lukk xxiii..
V. 27. 2H . . . . ". ." 14(1

XIV.

Thk Fatheus Lovk.

"It })lea8ed the Lord to hruise him. He wa^ l)ruised for our ini-
quities.'*— Ihaiah liii., V. 10, 5 I5m

XV.

The Dying Malekactok.

"And he said unto .lesus, Lord, remember me when thou eomest

into thy Kingdom," — Lfke xxiii., v. 42 IH'.>

XVI.

Doubts.

'Hilt Thomas, one of the twelve called Did.ymus, was not with
them when Jesus camo. The other disciples therefore .said
iinlo him, We have seen tlu. Lord. But lie said unto theui,
Kxcept I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and
put my finger into the print of tlu! nails, and thrust my hand
inti> his side, I will not believe." — .Ioijn xx.. v. 21, 2") 1^1

XVII.

HeHOJ.D TlIK L\MI!.

"liehold the Tjumb of (lod. wliidi takcth iiway the sin of tin-

world. .loHN i., V. 2!) '. \W

XVIIl.

Changks AM) Chastisemknts.

•'Moab bath been at ease from his youth, and he hath :>ctll<jd ou
his lees, and hath not been emptie»l from vessel to vessel,
neither hath h<' ^onc into captivity; thtrcfore liis taste re-
• n;iiu''d in him. and b' ■ iornt i-. net rhi^vi'-A.'" •hrBr.Mivu
xlvui.. V. 11 JUj

Viy CdMKNTK.

KIX.

Seeking and Findino.

"Seek ye Ihe Lord while ho mny 1)1* fouud.callye upon him while
he Ih Doar.">-lBAiAii Iv., v. 6 307

XX.

Not Saved.

'The hHi-vuHt in paHt, the Bummcr Ih onded, and wo are not naTed."

— .iKBEMiAn Tiii., ▼. 20 299

XXJ.

A Personal God.

" Ah tLit hart panteth after tlic wntcr brookfl, ho pantoth my nou)
after thee, O (tcxI. My kouI thirsteth for Ood, for the living
God: when nhall T eonic lunl appear before tiod?" — Psalm
42nd, V. 1-2

" (i, Ood, Thou art my (i(xl: early will I seek Thee: My soul
thirnteth for thee ; my flesli longeth for Thee in a dry and
thirnty laud where no water iK." — PnAiiM Oiird. v. 1 2tl

XXII.

('KiiciFYimi Chkist.

" They crucify to themHclves the Son of Ood afresh, and put him

to an open shame." -Hebhews 0th, v. 7 2fi3

xxm.

The Dkceitfulnes* or Sin.

■■ And Diivid'rt anger was preatly kindled against the man ; and
lie said to Nathan, A.-> the Lord livetli, tho man that liath
ilime thin thiuj( shall hureiy die." — 2MD Rami i:i. 12tl). v. T).. .

•• And Hnziiel said. But, wlial I is thy sorvent a do^' that he sliouM
do thit! {jreat thin.i,' ? " -2Nn Kinos 17tli, v. l.'J

" The heart is tleeeitfiil abi)Ve all tilings, and desju-rately wicked.

Who can know it'.'"- Jkiikmiau 17tli. v. •) 2r».')

XXIV.
Confession and ForgiVeniss.

•• 1 acknowltxlge my sin unto Thoe, and mine iqiqnity have 1 not

hill.* — P8AT.M 52ud, V. 5

' If wr conf'^^M ouv H.'c, He ii. fiitlJ.il ;oid j\i' t to forgive ua onr
sins, and t^ clr.ai:fc«> us froai all u:uTgbt6'5ua::c .;■.'— let Jony
l-3t. V. y 27h

iri

t^f

WARNING AND WELCOME.

" Whosoever hcaroth the nonnd of the tnimpet, and taketh not
warning, his bloo<l shall bo upon hifl own head. • • • gay unto
them, as I live, saith the Lord (k>d, I have no pleasure in the d(>ath
of the wicked ; but that the wicked turn from liin way and live. Turn
ye, turn ye, from your evil wayH ; for wliy will ye die, O houBo of Is-
rael ?''—Kzekiel 38rd, verses 4 and 11.

Ezekiel'fl ofiice was that of watchman to the housA of
Israel, during the period of the Babylonish captivity. Hii
commission, as given in the earlier part of the prophecy,
reads as follows : "Son of man, I have made thee a
watchman unto the house of Israel : therefore, hear the
word at my mouth, and give them warning from me.
When I say unto the wicked, Thou shalt surely die ; and
thou givest him not warning, nor speakest to warn the
wicked from his wicked way, to save his life; the
same wicked man shall die in his iniquity; but his blood
will I require at thine hand. Yet if thou warn the wicked,
and he turn not from his wickedness, nor from his wicked
way, be shall die in bis iniquity ; but thou hnst delivered
thy soul." Faithfully and fearlessly did tlie prophet make
full proof of his ministry in times of peculiar danger and
national sorrow, when the temptations were great to
prophesy smooth things, and quiet the widespread terror
and auzioty that everywhere prevailed. In a previous

WARNING AND WELCOME.

chapter, he is commanded to keep silent until the city
of Jerusalem was overthrown and desolate. *' In the day
when I take from them their strength, the joy of their
glory, the desire of their eyes, and that whereupon they
set their minds, their sons and their daughters— in that
day shall thy mouth be opened to him which is escaped,
and thou shalt speak, and be no more dumb." That time
has now arrived. Jerusalem was in ruins f the work
of judgment so far complete and the decrees of heaven
accomplished. A messenger having arrived, announcing
the destruction of the city, the prophet's commission is
renewed. "It came to pass that one that had escaped
out of Jerusalem came unto me, saying, The city is
smitten. And my mouth was opened, and I was no
more dumb." The prophecy up to this point has been
nearly all of j udgment — no words of hope or promise have
been spoken. But now he predicts glorious times for
Zion and Jerusalem, when the captivity was ended and
the Jews restored to the favor of Jehovah. The night of
weeping had ])een long, but joy would come in the morn-
ing. As Isaiah had said on a similar occasion: '-Her
warfare was accomplished, and 1: ""r iniquity was pardoned.
She had received of the Lord double for all her sins."

•n»

In the opening verses of this chapter, we have a
concise yet comprehensive description of the work of every
faithful minister. Under the figure of a watchman on his
high tower, %a lio in times of threatened invasion gives the
alarm, and sounds the trumpet for t!ie troops to rally ,the
solemn and responsible duties of Christ's ambassadors are
set forth. That such watohmpn are necessary for the
safety of the community is taken for granted. The
modern idea, that a stated ministry is fiuperfluous, and

W4BNING AND WELCOME.

that every man is called to preach, whether possessed of
the requisite quahfications or not, has no countenance in
the word of God.

Grave responsibility attaches to such an office. When
the watchman seeth the sword come upon the land, he
must give the alarm. Should invasion and bloodshed
follow, consequent upon hi« negligence and the unpre-
paredness of the inhabitants, he is held responsible. But
if, in spit© of his diligence and in defiance of his warning,
the people remain indifferent and callous, then the watch-
man is free from guilt. They heard the sound of the
trumpet, but took not warning. When the sword comes
and takes them away their blood shall be upon their own
bead. It is not that the Almighty delights in judgment,
that he thus foreshadows the certain doom of the impeni-
tent and unbelieving. No, far from it. " Say unto them,
As I live, saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the
death of the wicked ; but that the wicked turn from his
way and live : turn ye, turn ye, from your evil ways ; for
why "will ye die, house of Israel ? "

Let me, then, call your attention to the consequences
of despised gospel warnings.

Every unconverted man in Christian lands has been
warned of danger. In this statement those who attend,
and those who absent themselves from the house of God
are included. The guilt of the careless sinner who pro-
fanes God's holy day, and neglects the ordinances of
religion, is not one whit diminished by his rejection of the
truth. Every Sabbath day is a note of warning, and every
Sabbath bell a loud call to repentance and solemn concern
about the salvation of the soul. It will be no excuse at

4 WARNING AND WELCOME.

the Day of Judgment, that men did not avail themselves
of the means of grace— it will rather add to their con-
demnation. Whatever considerations of mercy may be
shown the heathen, who have lived and died ignorant of
salvation, there can be none for indifferent formalists in
Christian lands. They heard the sound of the trumpet,
but took not warning. Their blood shall be upon their
own head.

There are many such in every congregation. They
are at ease in Zion. They take no heed of their danger,
and live in utter disregard of the calls of heaven. They
have been warned by the repeated and express statements of
Scripture, and entreated to change their conduct and
accept of Christ. The Almighty yearns over their restora-
tion with irrepressible solicitude. Judgment is his strange
work — mercy is his delight. It is not the will of heaven
that any man should die in his sins and enter unsaved on
the awful tortures of eternity. If otherwise, what means
this scheme of redemption, with all its provisions for an
apostate and helpless race ? Was the incarnation of the
Son of God a mere exhibition of pretended mercy, that
has no real counterpart in the heart of the Almighty ?
Were the sufferings and death of Christ of no value in
satisfying the claims of eternal justice and opening up a
way of access to the mercy seat? Was the promise of the
Holy Spirit to enlighten men's miuds and sanctify their
nature, a mere form of words and nothing more ? In a
word, is there no truth in the gospel system with all its
.appeals, entreaties, aids, appliances and promises ? It
.cannot be. Men tacitly admit the truth of inspiration,
and acknowledge the claims of the Almighty and his will-
ingueiss io save, while by their practical indifference they

WARNING AND WECLOME.

falsify their creed. To all such the words are addressed :
•'They heard the sound of the trumpet, and took not
warning ; their blood shall be upon their own head ; they
shall die in their iniquity."

Unconverted men are also warned from Sabbath to Sab-
bath by the direct personal appeals of the preacher. Whatever
may be the merits or demerits of the pulpit at the present
day,butfew sermons are delivered which do not contain the
substance of the gospel, and urge immediate decision for
Christ. The charge against the pulpit is its personality ;
that men are singled out and their sins specified too
minutely, and that we indulge unduly in drawing fearful
pictures of the lost, rather than instructing hungry souls.
It may be true in some cases. It is difficult to draw the
line accurately and measure the amount that is necessary
of unsparing denunciation and loving entreaty. As a
rule, the ambassadors of Christ would far rather beseech
men by the gentleness of their Master, than alarm them by
the awful wrath of the Lamb. To allure men to love and
practice holiness by unfolding the infinite love of Christ.is
far more agreeable than to drive men by the inspiration
of terror to seek forgiveness. But when ministers feel
that such a method avails nothing — that large numbers in
their congregations continue in unbelief — that the beauty
of the Saviour and the attractions of heaven are all in-
sufficient to arouse men to action, do you blam« them if
they adopt another course and pourtray in vivid colors the
dread retributions of an eternal world ? The saving truths
of God's word demand a hearing, whatever be the form
in which they are presented. The imperfections of the
agent, were they tenfold greater than they are, cannot
conceal the freeness and fullness of salvation, nor palliate
the sin of unbelief.

WABNINOr AND WELCOME.

The ti umpet has sounded during another year, but
its warning has been unheeded by many. Nor has it
ijiven forth an uncertain sound. You have not called in
question the doctrines preached, the reality of the eternal
world and the immortality of the soul. The misery is,
that the majority of men give so little reflection to such
Bolemn matters, that doubt and skepticism are well nigh
impossible. "It is all so," you say, and Sabbath after
Sabbath you go through the same weary round of formal
worship and meaningless devotion, without making one
single effort nearer Christ or nearer heaven. Brethern.do
you wonder that angels look down upon you in amazement,
astonished at such fatal infatuation ? Were I to announce
on the simple word of a human being, that an invasion of
this land was threatened p certain within three or four
days ; that the enemy would show no clemen-^y ; that
wives and children would fall a prey to the savage instincts
of a brutalized soldiery, and conflagration spread around
us, leaving behind the whitened ashes of once flourishing
towns and cities — there is not a single man in this con-
gregation who would not at once act on the defensive and
put forth all his powers to avert the danger. Nay, far
less than this will move men to earnest effort. Let the
fire bells ring out at the dead of night, and moved with a
feeling of compassion, men will hasten with breathless
speed to save the goods and snatch the bodies of their
fellow-men from the devouring flames. But when, with
the most intense earnestness,we call upon sinners to shun
the more terrible flames of everlasting fire, and hide
themselves under the shadow of the Cross, — they sit un-
moved and unmelted, as if our words were fiction , the
""Giiu of woe a dream, and the Day of Judgment a
delusion. To such it may one day be said : "You heard

<#»

WARNING AND WELCOME.

the Bound of the trumpet and took not warning-
blood be upon your own head."

-your

The trumpet has also sounded by i)rovidence8 in the
norld at large and deaths in the family. Torniidocs and
earthquakes, whirlwinds and thunder storms have visited
certain portions of the globe, sending thousands to un-
timely graves. Storms and tempests have lashed the
ocean into fury, and swallowed up noble ships and hardy
seamen. Miners, far down in the subterranean caverns
of the earth, have been suftbcated to death by slow
degrees. It will not do to say that such casnalities are
only infi'ingements of the laws of nature. Surely there
is a God in nature and above nature, who governs its
movements and uses them to execute his own mysterious
purposes. In these marked and startling casualities we
hea>- *he voice of the Almighty speaking in thunder tones
to Christian communities. Those thus chastised were not
guilty of flagrant crimes beyond the average of men.
'• Suppose ye," said Christ to the self-righteous Jews,
" that those Galileans, whoso blood Pilate mingled with
their sacrifices, were sinners above all the Galileans be-
cause they suffered such things'? I tell you, Nay; but
except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish."

In addition to these public calamities, the many
breaches that have been made within the more restricted
limits of the household are intended to awaken serious
concern for eternity. Doiith is often a more powerful
preacher than the pulpit. His arrows stick faster and
pierce more acutely. These direct calls ought not to pass
nnheedod. Tlipy may constitute the final effort of a loving
Savions ere ho ends your earthly probation nnd summons
you to the bar of judgment.

WAllNINO AND WELCOME.

Finally, unconverted men have been warned by the
alarms of conscience and the strivings of the Holy Spirit.
Some consciences are so terribly seared that they eive no
oocasion for anxiety. Judgments and mercy alike pass
over them unimproved, leaving them more impenitent
and defiant than ever. But with the mass of men it is
different. There are times when tbe better part ©f their
nature assert! its sovereignty and reveals to the awakened
soul the terrors of the Lord, and the majesty of violated
law. It is hardly possible that rational and intelligent
men should sit under the ministrations of the sanctuary
without occasional feelings of uneasiness. That they are
slow to confess such mental torture, and endeavor to wear
a happy countenance and look at the bright side of life, is
no evidence of the contrary. Because we see no tears in
the church, we have no ground to doubt the existence of
serious concern. Oh, that these better promptings would
but lead men to instantaneous action and compliance with
the invitations of the gospel. A soul asleep — a conscience
passive and unconcerned, is the precursor of eternal
misery.

By all these methods of warning, then, the trumpet
has sounded. You cannot bo ignorant of its meaning*
God has a controversy with you. He is grieved at your
impenitence. He seeks your restoration. He waits to be
gracious, but how long none of us can tell. It is possible
to weary the patience of the Almiglity and draw down the
vials of his wrath. " Kiss the son, lest he be angry, and
ye perish from the way."

The danger of despising these warnings is brought
before us in the text. " His blood shall be upon his own
head." The sinner dies by his own band. In the sigh^

'^r

WARNINa AND WELCOME.

of heaven he commits suicide. The excuses that men put
forth for procrastination are unworthy of reasonable be-
ings. One says, " I do not doubt but these warnings are
intended for me. I cannot get rid of uneasy sensations.
I have moments when I am brought to tlie very brink of
despair, and find no refuge anywhere from my awful soul
questionings. But I have no leisure to investigate matters
of such overwhelming importance, or devote to spiritual
duties. How can I neglect the pressing calls of the pre-
sent for those that are unseen ? " It is the old excuse,
*' While thy servant was busy here and there, the man
was gone." Another says, "I do hope to attend to
religion before I die. The trumpet will sound again, and
when the danger is greater I will take heed. I have no
intention of always living as I do now. I feel the im-
portance of what you say ; but I am still young — many
days arc before me — the snows of age are yet far distant."
So men deceive themselves and tamper with Providence
until an old age has been reached, when reflection upon
eternal realities is a burden to the impaired and shattered
reason, and unconsciously the soul passes away to receive
its eternal doom.

I must not leave you without the alternative presented
by the prophet. "He that taketli warning sliall de-
liver his soul." "As I live, saith the Lord, I have no
pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that tlie wicked
turn from his way.ai\d hve , turn ye, turn from your e\il
ways; for wliy will ye die, house of Israel'.*" Chango
your Hves. Reform your character. Abandon e\'il habits
that are dragging you do\vn to perdition with cwift and
cei-tain steps. Follow after- a nobler idea of Christian
manhood, and sook by God'd blessing to attain a i)osiiion

WARNINGS \NI» WKI.i'OMK.

ill society where you can exert a lualtlifuJ iutiiu nee upon

your fellowmen. There in no reason why any man thould

become disheartened in the Cln-istian Hfe, nor why the

;4ieatest [)rolii^ate should not cleanse his ways and amend
his conduct Christ came for the very purpose vf making
known the 'ufhiite resources of his nature and elevating
the fallen. Make proof of his gracious promises and your
redemption is certain. The favor of heaven may at all
times be s( cured, and the fears of coming wrath overcome.

Why suould (rod have pleasuiv in the deiith of the
wicked? It is true that the justice of (lod shall be
lionored and his holiness vindicated in the condemnation
and eternal punishment of impenitent sinners. Whatever
be the issue of the overtures of reconciliation, God's law
will remain pure and untarnished. But will not the
sulvation of wicked men, rather than their damnation, add
new lustre to the Messiah's crown ? The glimpses that
are given us of the employments and delights of the
heavenlv inhabitants arc sufticient to show that the re-
demption of a fallen world is to them occasion for the
deepest joy. " There is joy in the presence of the angels
of God over one sinner that re])enteth." And if at the
retm-n of each prodigal the angels strike their lyres and
sound their liarps for joy, can it be that the Lamb upon the
throne is indifferent and unconcerned ? Nay, it is only in
so far as he regards with feelings of delight each returning
sinner tliat they rejoice. It is only in so far as his honor,
and majesty and glory are concerned that they see cause
for raptuKuis praise and adoring wonder.

To sapjioso r.ha: tho mother aliould rojoce at the
destvutt-aUvt oi iiCi' jii"ut-bo.'i_ babe i^ iat.»iLbtroui>. The

WARNIN<; AND WKJ.rOMt.

agony uiiiltagoue before its but li- -the anxiou> care lujd
weary watcliinj^s maintained all through its infancy — the
fond affoctiou incessantly lavished upon it, mk it lies
alumboruig or crying in its cradle — all this tells that h
mother's love for her offspring is greater than that for her
own existence. And shall we deny such feeling's of com-
passion — only in an inhnite degree — to the great 1 AmV
When man was created in the image of his Maker — his
heart throbbing witli immortality — was it simply that the
Creator might show his power in his destruction and
gratify a feeling of revenge ? It cannot be I If tliere is
anything of love and mercy, forgiveness and long-suffering
in the human heart, it is but a faint reflection of that
wondrous pity that exists in God. In his estimation the
loss of material worlds and suns and systems are matteis
of insignificance compared with the loss of nno immortal
soul.

the

The

"Tuin ye, turn ye, why will ye die V "" Po haps 1 am
met with the objection that the sinner is unal>le to compl\
with the command. Unquesljoiiably thtie are great difB .
culties to be overcome in turning li'om ;i hie ol Ibijy. Evil
habits long practised and vices long indulged in are sevious
obstacles in beginning a life of holiness. When a man foi
a long period has been going down hill it is no easy mat-
ter to stop the downward tendencies and rev- rso his move
ments, in certain railways extra locomotive power is
appUed when ascending steep grades, until the level has
been gained. And in the matter of the sinner's conversion
God's grace supplies this very want. There is no com
mand in Scripture without the most ample provision for
the required obedience. There is nothing unreasonable in
God's dealings with men. So soon as the faintest desire is

WARN1N<; AND WELCoMK.

formed within the breast, diviiit.' power is vouchsafed to
cany out our better resolutions. Have you ever attempted

to break loose from the bonds (»f wickedness? Have you
ever cried for gracious assistauci^ in overcoming sin ? Have
you ever honestly resolved to abandon your godless career ?
If not, the objection of inability is simple mockery. It is
an insult thrown in Jehovah's face for any man to parade
his weakness and wickedness as an excuse for uon-com-
pUanco with the invitations of the gospel.

Why will ye die ? Ai*e you so much in love with end-
less misery and eternal torments as to covet death ? Do
you doubt the veracity of such threatenings, hke Eve of
old, who believed the serpent that said, "Thou shalt not
surely die." What strange hallucination has come over
your mind that you dream life away in fond complacency,
undisturbed by fears as to the future ? Life is sweet to
most men, and for it anything valuable will be sacrificed.
Much more important surely is the happiness of the soul
throughout eternity !

Why will ye die ? The question is put to every man
and woman. Tliou art the man — thou art the woman to
whom God speaks. You, young man in the prime of life,
with buoyant step and eager countenance, diinking of the
sparkling streams of pleasure and flying from folly to folly,
as the bee skips from flower to flower. You, young woman,
fascinated and entranced with the treacherous and hollow
flatteries of gay admirers, whose smiles and devotion will
avail you nothing in the hour of death. You, man of busi-
ness, overwhelmed with the rasping cares of life — chasing
after wealth with dizzy brain and feverish pulse, forgetful
of the footsteps of the destroying angel, who tracks your

WARNING AND WKLOUMK-

pathway as tho bloodliomul tracks its victim. And yon,
aged one, whose hoary locks and furrowed brow indicate
unmistakeably that the Hmit of existence is ail but reached ;
— to one and all I put tho question : " Why will y$ die ' "

Why will ye die? Have you ever thought what it
means to die? Not to cease existence. Not simply to
shuffle off this mortal coil and lie down peacefully in tho
narrow house. Not simply to endure a few weeks or
months of jiain, and then enter upon rest. If that were
all, death to the impenitent sinner would bo no dreaded
enemy. Death is endless, unmitigated torture, — " where
their worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched." If
this is what you have been toiling for through life, better
far you had never been born, and never heard the sound
of mercy.

"BUT HE WAS A LEPER.'*

"Mow Naaman. captain of the hont of the Kitifi: of Syria, was a
great man with hin manter, and honorable, becaubo by him the Lord
had given deUvorance unto SyriH ; he waa alno a mighty man of va-
lor; but he was a leper." — '2nd Kings 5th, 1st.

Nanmnn was no commonplace character. He was a
Syrian nobleman— commander-in-chief of the armies — a
great man with his master, the King, and held in honor
by the nation on account of his valorous deeds and
brilliant victories. Ho was a soldier of tlie truest type
— a man bom to command, and at the same time endure
hardship and trial when exposed to danger ; courageous
on the battlefield — skilful and cunning in military tactics,
and ever ready to vindicate the honor and demand the
rights of his sovereign from all oflfeuding nations. Such
in brief is his history as given within the short
compass of a single verse.

That he was the sworn enemy of Israel, need not
lead us to detract from his military bravery or moral
qualities. We can admire a hero, though fighting against
what we consider truth and justice, and in behalf of error
and injustice. And indeed at the time when Naaman
lived, it is hard to say whether Benhadad. the Syrian

BUT UE WAH A LKPBR.

kin>?, or Ahab, tlio kiup of Israel, wore the worst of men.
Certainly tlie Ktatement in tho verse before us, that " by
him tlje Lord had pivon dehveranee to Syria," goes far to
show that Benhadad, the Syrian kinp, and Naauian, the
Syrian captain, were not alwavH in the wrong when
figliting against Israel. Ahal) was one of the greatest
tyrants that ever sat upon a tlirone. Ho was not only
dreaded by otlier nations, but he was hated by his own ;
so that not only to Syria, but to the world, it was a
positive delivcranco when he was killed. We find no such
mourning at his death as followed the good kings of Judali
and Israel. His people gave him decent burial in Samaria
— more than he dj^served, when we take into account the
bloody cruelties of his reign — and while one washed the
chariot, stained with the blood that str'^amed from the
dying monarch, the dogs assisted in licking up liis blood.
Striking confirmation of the prophet's words as to his
tragic end ! And so died Ahab, leaving lienhadad, the
Syrian king, and Naamau, the Syrian cajitain, masters of
the field.

The commander-in-chief of a nation's armies, if suc-
cessful in war against foreign powers, cannot fail to
gain the favor of the monarch and the alVections of the
inhabitants. Such men as Wellington and Washington
and Havelock and Campbell and (iiant, who have rescued
the honor of their country from disgrace and preserved
intact her liberties in the hour of ])eril, deserve all respect
from those whose homes and altars their brav«^ry and
daring have defended. Such a man was Naoman. No
charge of immorality ii; brought agaaist him. lie was an
idoUtor, it is true; but, cute i do of .Judah's torritory, tliu
world 'M hi'o (lay Uad uoiiikig eLc*.- to o^W fo* maa'a

BUT HE WAS A LEPER.

acceptance but idolatry. He was no court sycophant,
who by flattery ingratiated himself in kingly favor, and
veiled the cowardice of his heart under loud sounding
professions of valor. What reputation he enjoyed was
honestly acquired. His bed had often been the tented
field — his voice and commanding presence had often
cheered and inspired his men to battle, and led them
on to victory. In a word, the Syrian captain was the
right hand man of the monarch and the controller of his
destinies. Of all his possessions none were half so pre-
cious, and among all his statesmen none so rehable.

Behold, then, this Syiian commander, and tell me is
he not — ^judged by the standard of the world — an object of
envy ? A great man and a great warrior, occupjdng all
but the highest place in the kingdom, a favorite with the
king and the idol of the people. Surely if any man should
be happy and contented with his lot, it was Naaman. And
yet the humblest soldier in the ranks and the poorest in-
liabitant of Syria were infinitely more happy than this
Syrian captain. Naaman was a great man with his master
and honourable — a mighty man of valor, — but he was a
leper.

There were different kinds of leprosy in Syria and
Palestine, but it was the most loathsome type of that loath-
some disease w'ith which Naaman was afflicted. Had Naa-
man been a Jew, and treated according to the laws and
customs of the Jews relating to lepers, he would have been
denied the privileges of society and the shelter of a house.
Not even his high position could have saved him irom in-
voluntary exile. But the Syrians had no such contempt
for lepers as the Jews, and therefore Naaman, though af-
flicted with this revolting diaoaae, was still admitted to tiie

BUT HE WAS A LEPER.

royal presence and permitted the discharge of his official

duties. But this fearful malady clouded his life and sha-

dowed his every joy. V/hat to him was the wealth of a
universe, or the gold and purple and fine linen that kings'
attendants and statesmen wear ? What to him the hosan-
nas ef the populace, and th? victorious wreath of honor
thut adorned the conqueror's hrow '/ All these things were
no equivalent for this one great drawback. He was a
leper, gradually sinking under the terrible disease, and
soon to become the food of worms. For this affliction was
not simply loathsome, but incurable by human wisdom.
The seal of death whs already visible in his countenance.
" That eye which had so often flashed defiance on his
countries enemy's was already lustreless and without ex-
pression — the brow which once wore the stamp of decision
and stern command was wrinkled, relaxed and scaly — the
arm which had so often reined in the fiery war steed, and
wielded the glittering sabre or the battle axe, now hung
listless and nerveless by his eido — the voice, whose cheer-
ing sounds had rung through the tumult of the fight, was
harsh and husky — the heart, which had beaten so high and
strong, lacked power to send the flagging current through
the '"bstructed channels — the well springs of the life were
drying, like the brook in the desert."

Such was Naaman. in spite of his wealth and honors,
and such are many at the present day, who with all their
worldly acquisitions cannot purchase one day's freedom
from bodily pain and mental anyuish. There is many a
sicUy, tormented and agonized frame under jewels and
gay attire. No man's greatnes^s, or wealth, or honorable
standing in soci> ty can purchase exemption from the
sorest calamities that flesh is heir to. What does all the

fiUX BE WAS A LEPER.

riches of this world profit the millionaire racked with pain,
panting with breathlessness, or in the delirium of a raging
fever ? Naaman euvied the humblest soldier in the ranks.
Sound and healthy, clear-skinned and hearty, he possessed
what the wealth of Syria could not purchase. As Bishop
Hall remarks, ** Naaman was as great as the world could
make him, yet the basest slave in Syria would not change
skins with him."

We learn from Naaman's case that there is no posi-
tion in life without some trial. Every man has his own
cross. There is a crook in every lot. There is a shadow
in the happiest household, and a drawback to every earthly
joy. Ever aeekiog after exemption from suffering, we
never attain it, nor ever will while in the body. Man, if
not made to mourn, by his Creator,has through sin become
a life-long mourner. A man's countenance and outward
walk in life are not always true indicators of his cir-
cumstances. Men who appear to have reached the highest
summit of earthly felicity have sorrows and trials, which
pierce them like a sword. However different may be our
lot in life, and however diverse the experiences of rich and
poor, we are all linked to each other by a universal bond
of suffering.

Incidentally, also, we are taught the priceless value of
a sound physical frame. It is only when we come to a
aick-bed and spend lonely nights and wearisome days, shut
out from all intercourse with the world and the enjoyments
of life, that we really know the blessedness of health. It
in not simply tlie bodily pain th«,t we suft'er on a bed of
affliction, but the feeling tlmt we are a burden upon the
kindness of others, and that there is a hmit to the sym-
pathy and watchful care of the nearest and the dearest

BUT HE WAS A T.KPER.

friend. "The monotony of tears" is hard to hear, and
friendship gets worn out by our lamentations. While
health and vigor are continued, let us gratefully use them
in his service, who at first formed us, and has ever since
flustaii dus.

Leprosy it need hardly be said is an emblem of sin.
There is no man or woman in this assembly but are, or
have been, lepers in God's sight. Wc cannot so easily
detect the moral leper in our congregations, as the Jew
suffering under this horrible malady was suigled out from
his fellows. The leprosy of sin is often hidden and cannot
be deteeted in the outward life — moral lepers often pass
for pious Christians in the church. But the leprosy of Old
Testament times was easily detected. It hardly needed r
physician to pronounce upon the disease. The body,
crumbling away atom by atom, declared too plainly tiial
the fatal poison was approaching the citadel of life. The
poor leper was commanded to rend his clothes and wear a
shroud, and live apart from the dwellings of men and the
precincts of the temple. Regarded as not simply a natural
calamity, but a special mark of Jehovah's displeasure, the
victim was denied the companionship of his fellows and the
favour of heaven,

Now what must sin be in its essence and workings,
that demands such a repulsive disease to symbolize it.'
And in the tyes of a holy God, how desperate must then
condition be, who sinking under the terrible plague, never
seek to wash in the fountain of Christ's blood '> You may
by the graces and amiabilities of a moral life,coucoal your
real state. In the eyes of your fellowmen, you may seem
loveable and pure ; — in the church you may pass for a de-
voted and earnest Christian, and yet in the sight of Him

UUT HE WAS A LEPEB.

who searches the heart and knoweth the secrets of men,

you are vile and loathsome as the poor 8yrian leper. It

is the heart that needs purification. It is the inner life,
not the bodily organization that requires to be regenerated.
The root must be made good, else the leaves and fruit re-
main poisonous and deadly. The fountain must be
cleansed, or the waters will remain impure.

That little word "but" spoils many an otherwise
beautiful character. "But" he was a leper, — how sadly
does this little sentence change our estimate of Naamau's
happiness ? Yonder sits a lovely girl, blooming into
womanhood. Fair and captivating, guieless and winning,
simple and artless as a child, she is the pride of her home —
the ideal of her parents' heart, and the light of the social
circle; Her talents and accomplishments — her sincere de-
votion to the cause of Christ and her labors for the good of
souls are matters of commendation. So far as human eye
can jud^e, she is as near perfection as mortals can attain
in this imperfect state, and greatly needed in her sphere
of labor. Z?t/f she is consumptive. See that hectic flush
upon the cheek — that strange supernatural flush upon the
eye iu moments of excitement, and listen to that short
hacking cough, wliich convulses the frame and prostrates
the energies of the entire system ! She is indeed very
beautiful and good, but she is marked as a victim for the
grave and soon must pass away. And yonder is a man,
who so far as the present world is concerned, has no cause
for complaint. He is rich and honoured ; he holds a prom-
inent position in the government of his country and in the
councils of the land ; his name is a passport to the great
ones of the earth, and bis notice eagerly sought by the
great mass of bis fellow citizens. Btit notwithstanding

BUT HE WAS A LEPER.

the outward polish and refinement of manner, he is a
drunkard — a debauchee — a blasphemer of God's name — a
Sabbath-breaker — a violator of the most solemn bonds of
domestic life — unjust and unscrupulous in his private
dealings — in a word, a moral leper. Yonder sits a Chris-
tian woman, whose face with all its sweetness, cives indi-
cation of secret sorrow. Is it that she is pinched with
poverty, notwithstanding her apparent respectability?
No— for she tells you her husband more than supplies all
her wants. Is it that her family are a source of grief —
has any son or daughter, in spite of her care and anxiety,
plunged into a career of vice and stained the family name?
No — her sons and daughters have grown up to honorable
manhood and womanhood, and are consistent members of
the christian church. What, then, is the grief that lies so
heavily on the mother's heart ? There is a but some-
where could we only find it. My husband, she says, is the
kindest of men. He loves me fondly. He lives Tor my
happiness. In all our social arrangements there is neither
jar, nor contention, nor angry words. But he is not a
Christian. He npver prays. He never reads God's Word.
He has nc relish for religious conversation. He laughs at
profrssors of religion, and regards them as hypocrites. He
is what the world calls a moral man, but he is a stranger
to those lasting joys that spring from a good hope in the
Lord Jesus Christ.

I can fancy many in this congregation saying, I am
not of the class described. I live in accordance with the
laws of morality ; I pay my honest debts; I provide for
my family ; I honor the institutions of religion, and give
of my mertus for their support ; I attend the house of God
occasionally, and occupy no mean place in the estimation
of my neighbors. In a word, I consider myself above re-

BTTT HK WAS A LEPKR.

;i i I

proach. It is true that I am not a church member, but
my conduct will bear comparison with many that are, and
who, because they are, think themselves fully assured of
heaven. I am ready to confess short-comings, for these
are inseparable from humanity, but I refuse to be classed
with the worthless and degraded characters you speak of.
Cautiously, my good friend, you are the very man whose
ear I wish to gain. I am not speaking of reprobates — of
men openly convicted of heinous crimes — nor of some poor
publican who stands afar off, saying, •' God be merciful to
me, a sinner ! " I am speaking of men who say with the
utmost sincerity, " God, I thank thee that I am not as
other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as
this publican," aud I tell you frankly, that with all your
fancied excellencies and rigid morality you are a leper in
the sight of God. You are trusting to your own unaided
efforts to secure his favor here and his condemnation
hereafter. You have never yet realized your sinful condi-
tion, nor your need of a Saviour. And just so long as you
retain such convictions of your own worthiness and blame-
lessness in life salvation is not possible. Christ came not
to call the righteous, but sinners. " They that are whole
need not a physician, but they that are sick."

Ah, the saddest thing about your case is your ignor-
ance of danger and year marvellous composure, when the
next moment may find you alone and unprepared before
the bar of that Saviour whose blood you despise. The
souls that appal us are the i*juls at ease. Those who doubt
of their salvation because they detest their own ways, they
are seeking God. Even at the last hour they will find
Him. But minds disturbed by no doubts, grieved by no
remorse, tortured by no questions ; souls that allow them-
selves to be borne onwards by pleasant dreams towards a

BUT HE WAS A LEPER

comfortable future — the peace of such souh, makes one
M-embic. The di'ead of dying before one has found Jesus
is a reasonable dread. The misery of living without God
admits of no consolation, and the horror of dying without
God, should awaken the most callous and hardened smner
to instant and earnest cries for mercy.

Nothing can compensate for the want of an interest in
Christ's death and the cleansing efficacy of His blood.
"If I wash me with snow water, and make mv hands
never so clean, yet shalt thou plunge me in the ditch and
mine own clothes shall abhor me. Though thou wash thee
with nitre, and take thee much soap, yet thine, iniquity is
marked before me, saith the Lord." The Syi'ian Captain
had tried many experiments to remove his leprosy, and
called in the wisest physicians to consult as to a cure, but
all had failed. The disease was too deep-seated for ordmary
treaiment — nothing indeed but miraculous interposition
could stay the plague. And so it is with the malady of
sin. Unless the Holy Spiiit opens the sinner's eyes to see
his danger, and bring him helpless and humble to the
cross, perdition is assuredly his portion.

The most fatal of all diseases arc i^hose that gradually
and imperceptibly undermine the foundations of life, and
suddenly snatch their victim from time to eternity. They
are none the less deadly, that they occasion no pain.
Did you ever succeed in convincing a consumptive patient,
that such was the disease, until about the very last ? The
most deceitful symptoms are laid hold of as a ground of
hope. The spring with its freshness, its invigorating
breezes, its buds and blossoms, and cheerful song of birds,
is sure to bring back the colour to tlio clieek and force the
c'lUTent of lii'e witli new energy througli the system ! But
Bpring comcB with its beauty, and summer too, with its

BUT HE WAS A LEPER.

I'i!
I i!

I '

rich harvests and golden sunsets ; and autumn passes with

its bahny zephyrs and gorgeously tinted forests, but all
fail to resuscitate the languid energies of the dying man.
Nay, at the very moment when he imagines himself almost
.xecovered, the frail, flickering spark expii*es. Even in the
case of leprosy no pungent agony was felt by the sufferer.
The patient's general health was not affected, until the
malady had made fatal progress. And is not this the in-
variable characteristic of souls bhnded by Satan to a
sense of their danger ? They cry peace, peace, where there
is no peace. Conscience is asleep, and the spuitual sensi-
bihties deadened. They imagine all is well and shall be
well at the hour of death. Nay, in some co,?e8 they pass
away into the world of spirits unconscious of their doom.
Perhaps there are some here, who have sat so long under
the preaching of the gospel and so continuously and obsti-
nately refused the offer of j^ardon, that now they fear that
the day of grace lias passed. There are certain diseases
that baffle all liuman skill. When they have advanced a
certain stage, death is but a question of time. All that
can be done is but to alleviate the pains of dying and
smooth the pathway to the grave. But oh, impenitent
man, I come to tell you that there is hope even at the
olovonth hour. The advanced stages of spiritual leprosy
tiie as susceptible of cure in God's hands as are the incipient
ones. For every form of the malady of sin there is balm
in Gilead and a physician there. No case is so desperate
as to be bevond the skill of the Lord Jesus Christ. When
on earth he healed many of mortal diseases and raised the
dead to hfe. That omnipotent power he still exercises in
behalf of all who are sin-stiicken and desii'c a remedy.
Though your sins be as scarlet,they shall be wliito as snow
—red like crimson, thoy shall be white as wool.

SOWING AND HEAPING.

"Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap in mercy: break up
your fallow ground : for it is time to seek the Lord, till he come and
rain righteousness upon you." — Hosea 10th, v, 12.

The liistory of the Jewish Nation from first to last is
a verification of the proverb, that what a man sows, that
shall he also reap. Eliphaz the Temanite, when endeavoring
to account for Job's terrible sufferings in the existence of
secret sins, says : " Even as I have seen, they that plough
iiiiquity and sow wickedness reap the same." " They
have sown the mind, and thoy shall reap the whirlwind,"
says the prophet, in a preceding chapter. In these and
similar declarations of Scripture, we have a brief but ac-
curate declaration of the method of God's dealings with
men and nations. Wrong doing, sooner or later carries
with it vengeance. In conformmg to the dictates of truth
and purity, and yielding ourselves to the authority of Hea-
ven, we choose the only way to permanent happiness.

The Jewish Nation had wilfullv determined on an-
other course ol action. They imagined they could with
impunity violate moral law and trample on the most sacred
obligations. They set themselves systenaatically to dro-

■H

SOWlN(i AND REAPING.

i .

vokc tho Almighty. "They plowed wickedness and reap-
ed iniquity, and cat the fruit of lies." And yet notwith-
Htanding the terrible waywardness and guilt of their past
career, the hope of amendment is held out to them. If
they would but renounce their former idolatry and give
over their apostacy and rebellion ; if they would only
change the purposes and actions of their life, and anew
dedicate themselves to the service of Jehovah, they
might yet enjoy his favour, and secure a return of those
national blessings that had distinguisjied thorn in former
days.

The fallow ground is that portion tl' tho farm, which
is left unploughed and unrcaped for a space of time, that
it may be rendered all the more productive, when the seed
is once more cast into the furrow. The fact that it is ly-
ing "fallow," implies that the ground from some cause is
in a languishing condition, and needs just such careful
nursing as does the sickly body. Too much perhaps has
been expected from it and taken out of it in time past.
Rest is now imperatively demanded, and such treatment as
will prepare it for future productiveness. While the Held
lies fallow, the husbandman may also take occasion to cut
down and burn the weeds, which suck u^) and drain the
vital forces of the earth, leaving them to rot upon the very
spot where they grew, and thus making tlieui yield some
small repaiation for the barrenness they have caused.
When after a sufficient time the ground has lain fallow,
and has been enriched by artilicial and natural a])i)liances,
then the plough turns up its furrows and the seed is sown,
that a plenteous harvest may be gathered. In our coun-
try, we break up our fallow ground with the ploughshare,
but in oriental countries a preparatory work was neces-

SOWING AND REAPING.

sary, bot'ovo tlie plouglisliaro could bo used. Tbe ground,
long covered with water and hardened by the fierce rays
of the sun, was broken up by axes, as a prehminary to
cultivation. It is doubtless this fact that the prophet had
before his mind, when he calls upon the Jewish nation, to
])egin the initiatory work of repentance, by breaking up
the fallow ground.

It is easy to see the appropriateness of the figure
when ai^plied to backsliding Israel. There were periods
in their history when they were fruitful in good works and
lioly deeds. ]iut these seasons were exceptional. There
were long blanks in their history as a fruitful vineyard ;
when the ground lay fallow — when weeds and noxious
shrubs and vermin rendered crops impossible — when in
plain language, the hearts of the people were unprepared
for the reception of heavenly blessings. Such was Israel
in the days of the prophet Hosea, when he calls upon
them to break up the "fallow ground."

Having exhorted them "to plough up the fallow
ground" he adds : " Sow to yourselves in righteousness —
reap in mercy." Or, as it should read " sow to yourselves
for righteousness." Righteousness is not the seed, but the
fruit — the object to be sought — the end to be gained.
Make righteousness your aim and you shall reap an abun-
dant harvest. This result is not the reward of merit, but
of grace. It is according to the overflowing mercy of the
almighty, and not in proportion to mere human efforts
however praiseworthy and energetic.

Unlike the operations of nature, it is scarcely ever
too late to reform one's conduct. If the farmer postpones
seeding until far on in spring or summer, the harvest will

SOWING AND IlEAPINO.

(

il '

be a failure. The cokl and frosfcH of wintor will be upon
him, before bis grain can ripen. The seed nui.st bo sown
in its Hcason, otherwise tliere is no good ground for antici-
pating an adequate return. It is very true also, that in
human conduct the rule holds so far good, that an early
dedication of the soul to God, is the surest method to at-
tain a happy and useful life. I5ut for the encouragement
of those, wbo have neglected the salvation of the soul, and
allowed youth to pass without improvement and serious
concern regnrding eternity, it is of unHpcakable value to
know that God still waits to be gracious: — that he is pa-
tient and longsuffering beyond the conception of mortals,
and that an earnest desire to change the life, and a radi-
cal transformation of character, is hopeful even to old age.
Apart from this blessed truth, the pulpit would loose all
its power in dealing with large unmbers in every con-
gregation. While we plead with the young to give them-
selves unreservedly to the service of God in the morning
of existence, assuring them that his ways are pleasantness
and that all his paths are peace, we do not the less ur-
gently, implore the aged and indifferent to forsake their
sins and follow after holiness. You are not yet beyond
the pale of mercy — you are not outside the sweep of God's
love and the reach of his almighty condescension.

The exhortation of the prophet addressed to Israel is
tantamount to saying : — So live that you may now and
evermore enjoy the favour of God. Control your actions —
purify your conversation — mould your entire being in liar-
mong with the law of God. Let what is base — low — im-
pure — unholy — sinful and selfish be henceforth despised
and shunned, and what is noble, virtuous, generous and
Godlike, be sought after as the controlling elements of your

SOWING AND REAPING.

life. Keep in view a duy of reckoning. It in now the
spring time, l)ut liarvcst will follow. The account will bo
called for and according to life's probation, will bo tbe
never-ending destiny of every iunnortal soul. Now is the
time to decide what eternity shall be — what the judgment
of the great white throne shall be — wbat place you shall
hold in the estimation of the good on earth, and what dig-
nity you shall attain among the sons of God in heaven.

The command is addressed to those who have proved
by sad experience, the evil results of following a different
line of conduct. The Jews had set up a new code of
morals from that of Mount Sinai. The glory of God was
held subservient to their own carnal lusts and desires.
The present pleasures of sin which last only for a season,
had usurped the place of tboso higher and purer enjoy-
ments that befit immortal beings. And the result was re-
morse, shame, disaster : the withdrawal of the favour of
heaven, and the endurance of all that is terrible in human
suffering. Surely if men are not utterly blind to the teach-
lugs of divine truth, in the bitter experience of misguided
Israel, they may see the infallible certainty of God's judge-
ments upon evil doing, and that though hand join hand,
the sinner shall not go unpunished.

These things are written for our instruction, and I am
here to declare, that as with Israel in the past so with
every impenitent sinner in the i)resent. Do I need to ar-
gue the question ? Are men so blind to the facts of God's
providence as not to recognise the sure doom of the un-
godly and the reprobate ? Is not the daily record of hu-
manity, a vindication that such are the ways of God to
man, and that a course of sin, invariably eads to ruin of
Boul and body ? I could call up before you the names of

SOWING AND REAPING.

n ;

'i i>

1 ':|

I n

men in tliis very community, whose mournful and sliamc-
ful fall and melancholy death, is enough to verify tlio
statement of God's word and terrify men from such a fatal
course of action. Have you not known such, who witli
unblushing hardihood violated all moral and religious ob-
ligations ; — laughed to scorn the penalties of divine and
human law; — pursued a course of conduct, crooked, hy-
pocritical, unmanly and heartless towards their fellow-
creatures; — endeavoured if possible to shut out the Al-
mighty from all interference with their plans and projects,
and run on unchecked in a career of vice and prodigality ?
For a season they prospered beyond all human expecta-
tion, and apparently in direct opposition to the statements
of inspiration, but in the end with sudden and swift des-
truction, they passed away from the knowledge and
memory of men. " Behold these are the ungodly who
prosper in the world: they increase in riches;" — so in
our unbeHef we sometimes think, when perplexed by the
inequalities and strange admixture of good and evil that
now exists in the world. ]3ut mark the issue ; " How are
they brought into desolation as in a moment ! tlicy are
utterly consumed with terrors ! as a dream when one awak-
eth, so, Lord, when thou av/akest, thou shalt despise
their image."

I am not teaching that mere morality and outward
irreproachableness of life are the highest excellencies of
christian character ; nor that men who are honest, pure
and blameless in their conversation are the noblest types
of humanity. I do not say that these outward graces
alone, commend any man to the favour of God. ]>ut
what we maintain is, that where such elements of charac-
ter exist, we have good grounds for believing that they
proceed from a gracious principle within. I know well

SOWING AND REAriNG.

that the highest type of character — true christian man-
hood, is the fruit of God's spirit dwelling in the soul. But
we by no means dissuade any man from beginning a new

course of conduct and adopting a higher standard, because
he is not tlioroughly convinced that he is really a child of
God and the subject of regeneration. Do what conscience
tells you is right, — abandon evil practices — strive after
what is pure and good and true in character, and lean
upon the strength and wisdom of God to attain perfection.
" If any man will do his will — honestly and prayerfully
seek to conform to the demands of God's law — he shall
know of the doctrine, whither it be of God." By practice
we come to understand both doctrine and precept.

If I were asked then to paraphrase the prophets words,
I would adopt the language of Paul. " FinRlly Brethren,
whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are pure,
whatsoever thinj are lovely, whatsoever things are of good
report; if there be any virtue and if there be any praise,
think on these things." Before we decide as to a man's
chauge of heart we should have certain evidences in his
life. I5ecause a man whose conduct has been notoriously
wicked and inconsistent, is seen in the company of Gods
people, and for a short season seems devout and attentive
to religious duties, we are not hastily to conclude that he
is a new creature in Christ Jesus. The Jews were exceed-
ingly fitful in their religious proclivities. Now they wor-
shipped Baal and again Jehovah : now they ^(^ere found at
tliebasc of Sinai covenanting to be the Lord's forever, and
again fallmg down and worshipping the golden calf. And
j-o with many men at the present day. A wave of religious
excitement passes over a christian connnunity, and certain
men and women, hitherto recognised as "of the earth,

rtOWINCr AND REAPINft.

earthy," become all of a sudden serious and prayerful.
The Bible that they formerly discarded, now takes the
place of the daily newspaper. They can hardly speak on
secular affairs, and fear that by mingling with the average
of christian discipleship, their high-strung religious feel-
ings should suffer and decline. Nay, thoy are not slow to
speak of worthy church members, whose religion has been
a silent but steady growth from infancy, in the most un-
charitable and iir lovely terms. '* Stand back, I am holier
than thou " — is the language of their lips. " The temple of
the Lord, the temple of the Lord arc wc " — is the unmistak-
cable sentiment of the heart. Far be it from us to judge
such people as they judge others. We fondly hope they
are all, they say they are. Saul of Tarsus was changed in
a moment from a wicked persecutor, into a gentle, meek-
minded christian, and hardened criminals, by a single flash
of God's spirit borne in upon the soul, have often been
miraculously and savingly converted. But these are ex-
ceptions. In most cases where conversion is genuine, it is
preceded by repentance and contrition of soul, and follow-
ed by such a radical change of feelmgs, principles and
l)ractice, that leaves no room for doubt. Men must sow
before they reap.

But lest any should imagine that the recompense is of
works, the prophet adds " reap in mercy." The encou-
ragements and rewards to holy living are many in the pre-
sent and the future, but they are all of grace. By patient
continuance in well-doing, wc are to inherit the promises
which belong to a higher state of being, as well as the en-
joyments of this life, — but not as a right or purchase. It is
not a bargain between man and his maker. The conjunc-
tion of holiness and happiness — the union of a blameless
life with a bhssful experience, while it is the decree of hea-

SOWING AND REAPING.

• i'

veil and the law that governs the intclhgent creation, is the
result of sovereign grace, which makes it possible for man
to enjoy God's favour. Every good emotion of the hu-
man soul — every pure impulse that stimulates to action — •
every heavenward tendency, — every Godward aspiration,
is due to the mercy of God in Christ Jesus, which calls us
to be sons of God. Apart from divine stimulants and
guidance we can do nothing to transform our lives or
mould our destinies. Every good thought and gracious
disposition is the gift of Leaven.

If we only reaped according as we sowed, our harvest
would be j)oor indeed. If justice were meted out to the
holiest of men, the recompense would be small. Take the
best of christians, and judged by the standard of God's
word, how far shore do they come of the demands of the
law of rectitude. If men had only the prospect of getting
their deserts, they would spend a miserable eternity. But
our judge is merciful and takes into account our manifold
imperfections ; our faithfulness is measured in the light <'f
our feebleness and in view of the many obstacles that hind-
er us iu christian effort. '' Thou hast been faithful over a
few things, I will make thee ruler over many," is the lan-
guage of the Master, There is therefore encouragement to
perseverance — for according to the sincerity of our
endeavours to advance God's glory, shall be our success.
Ill proportion to our individual hol})lossness and ignorance
divine strength and wisdom are afforded us. Our Maker
is not a cruel taskmaster towards those who seek to know
and do his will. With a loving solicitude ho nourishes
every pure aspiration and manly resolution, until it is per-
fected in action. " Them tlii't honour me I will honour,"
saith tiie Lord. Commit thy way unto the Lord, trust

;

SOWING AN1> REAl'lNCi.

also in him and he shall briug it to pass : and ho shall
bring forth thy rigbteousuess as the light, and thy judg-
ment as the noonday.

** It is time, says the pvophet, to seek the Lord, till he
come and rain righteousness upon you." It is more than
time, the words imply. The day of grace is near an end.
Opportunities for seeking and finding the Lord are quick-
ly passing. That hi, patience has not long since been ex-
hausted, is evidence of hir infinite long-suffering. It is
more than time for many who hear me, to seek the Lord.
They did not think it v, lite time in youth, and they could
not find sufHcient leisiu.'e in riper years, and now when old
age is upon them, they have not time to seek the Lord !
When will it be time, I ask you in all seriousness '? Not
surely when racked with pain upon a deathbed, and when
the tongue is palsied in the agonies of dissolution. Trifle
not with the message of mercy, I beseech you, "Seek,
until he comes and rains righteousness upon you." J>(>
not intermit prayer because the answer is delayed, but ex-
ercise a holy importunity, saying like the patriarch of old :
" I will not let thee go, imtil thou bless me." Seek as for
pearls and diamonds and precious stones — as for the liid-
den gold that lies buried in tie earth. Give not sleep lo
thine eyes, nor slumber to tl uie eyelids, until you have
tokens of God's favour and an assurance of his love.
Anxiouslv — diligently — with the consecration of all the
powers and energies of 3'our being pursue this object, a^s
•above all things necessary to your highest welfare. Tiie
reason why so many fail ni seeking the Lord, is because
they make it but a secondary matter in the business of lit'e.
Seeking the Lord is confined to Sabbath days and sacra-
mental seasons. Spasmodically, fitfully and by impulses

■^

SOWING AND REAPING

tit)

■^

tlioy are serious and solemn, but tliere is no continuity of
religious fervour, and no results of an abiding character
are gained. If years ago, they had begun and prosecuted
tlie work as faithfully, as they have attended to the inter-
ests of their busiiiess, they would long ere this have found
joy in believing, and been numbered with the people of
God.

Thus seeking, he will come and rain righteousness
upon you. The seed in the furrows makes but little pro-
gress without the timely rains and nightly dews. Our
own results are meagre without the effusion of God's
spirit. In this is our hope. "He shall come down like
rain upon the mown grass : as showers that water the
earth. I will bo as the dew unto Israel ; he shall gi"OW as
the lily, and cast forth his roots as Lebanon : his branches
«hall spread, and his beauty shall be as the olive tree, and
his smell as Lebanon." In such circumstances barren-
ness is impossible. The church becomes a well watered
garden. Tlie buds and blossoms of piety ripen into gor-
geous fruit, and are scattered far and wide for the healing
of the nations. " He shall be like a tree planted by the
rivers of water, that bringeth forth iiis fruit in his sea-
son ; his leaf also shall not wither and whatsoever he
doeth shall prosper. Those that are planted in the house
of the Lord, shall flourish in the courts of our God. They
shall bring forth fruit in old nge ; they shall be fat and
flourishing.'

The breaking up of the fallow ground is a laborious
work, and the awakenmg of a soul deadened by sin and
sensual pleasures, is often arduous and painful. But is it
not better to sutler the upturnings of God's providential
ploughshare, than remain callous and insensible ? Tht

SOWING END REAPING.

harsher dealings of the Almighty should be welcomed, if
these are the only means that can produce reflection.
Anything rather than mifruitfulness and the seal of God's
unchangeable displeasure and unrelenting "wrath. Let
judgments come — let worldly disasters fall fast and thick —
let sickness and bereavement invade the household — let the
foundations ' secular prosperity be undermined and sha-
ken as by an earthquake — let hopeful plans and enterpri-
ses be blasted and ruined — what matters it, if the higher
riches and nobler enjoyments of eternity are gained ! If
it is God's purpose iv save, he will not spare the plough-
share. Deep inv' • '^he furrows of the heart he will drive
His afflictive me.sscii • :-s, until the barbed arrow of convic-
tion finds the ert of cvj'. Whatever hinders and opposes
hd will rend iiii r-iyfes, and overturn as the ploughshare
scatters the co)xpacted clods of earth. Those refuges of
lies, where the smne? has avvelt so secure for years — un-
holv lusts and unbridled affections, and the skilfullv con-
cocted plans of life — he will unearth and spoil, until the
sinner discovers the folly of living at variance with God,
and in antagonism to his own best interests. Bend or
break the sinner must. Half v/ay measures avail nothing.
Evil habits that, like grappling irons, enslave the soul
must be abandoned, and all dallying with temptation end-
ed. The old English proverb says : "The horse is not
clean escaped, that drags his halter." So long as the
halter drags, tlore is hope of catching the runaway. If
you cannot take him by the head, you can jjtealfchily put
your foot upon the halter's end and hold him fast. Thus
it is with many men, who never entirely break with their
sins. Their judgment condemns their actions, but the eye
and the passions hold them fast. They cannot bring them-
selves to a sudden and abrupt transition from vice to vir-

-'•5^'

SOWING AND REAPING.

tue and from Satan to the Saviour. They fail in asserting
their freedom. The halter drags. The reformation is
only partial and ends in moral and eternal ruin. To such
we say : " Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap in
mercy, break up your fallow ground, for it is time to seek
the Lord, till he come and rain righteousness upon you."

THE ACCEPTED TIME.

" Bebold, now is the accepted time ; behold, now is the dav of sal-
vation."— 2kd Corinthians, vi and 2nd,

Several years ago a small vessel was neariiig a dan-
gerous spot in tlie Britisli Channel. The captahi stood on
the deck, his watch in his liand, and his eye fixed upon it.
A terrible tempest had swept over the ship and left it a
sad and almost hopeless scene of desolation. The wind
and tide still continued to drive the shattered bark on-
ward — nearer and nearer to the sullen rock, on which
many noble ships had foundered, and where many crews
had perished. No one on board dared so much as ask
•' Is there any hope '?" Every tongue was silent and every
cheek was pale. Still the captain stood motionless and
speechless, watch in hand. Suddenly his eye <5lanced
across tiie sea — he stood erect and cried, " Thank God, we
are saved — the tide has turned — in one moment more we
should have been upon the rocks. ' ' That captain and crew,
if they had never before realized the value of time, were
taught in that fearful crisis how precious was the briefest
moment.

•^;>

TUli ACCKPTEU TIME.

;j!)

'<#^

lu his narrative of his voyage to the Polar regions,
Kane, the celebrated Artie Explorer, tells us how he and
his brave companions found themselves on one occasion
between two mip;lity moving icebergs, that tljreatened in-
stant destruction to the ship and all on board. There was
not a breath of wind to fill the sails. The vessel lay mo-
tionless upon the water, as if paralyzed with terror she
awaited her doom. Just at tbat moment a sm.'ill iceberg,
set in motion by some unknown current, came floating
past the ship. It was barely possible, tliat could they di-
rect their course in the wake of this floating iceberg, they
might be saved a watery grave. As it passes them, they
plant an anchor in its side, and now begin to move on-
ward, whether to destruction or safety no one can predict.
Meanwhile the two great icebergs, whirling on their axes,
and roaring and grinding through the sea, came nearer
and nearer to the ship. The Channel was now narrowed
to forty feet. Another moment and their fate is sealed.
In the energy of despair, the sailors fly to the rigging and
brace the yards to clear the ice walls. They pass clear by
a very hair's breadth, and "never did men acknowledge
with more gratitude, their merciful deliverance from a
wretched death."' In such circumstances men know how
to value time, and how fearful mav be the loss which a
reckless profligacy involves. Had v'3 xuch dudiences from
Sabbath to Sabbath, as we present the claims of heaven
and reveal the terrors of hell, how easy it would be to reach
the conscience and gain the assent of the understanding !
Men would then readily believe, that in regard to the in-
terests of their immortal souls — "Now is the accepted
time, and now is the day of salvation."

The special truth taught in these words is, that there
is a time of grace and a day of salvation, and that time is

THE ACCEPTED TIME.

now. It is no new doctrine that is unfolded, but one fa-
miliar to the ears of Gospel hearers from childhood, and
so often reiterated in their hearing that it fails to produce
the faintest impression of its overwhelming importance.
We all accept as true the words of the Poet :

" There ia a tide in the affairs of men

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune ;

Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows, and in miseries" —

but we strangely deny the existence of the same law, in
the sphere of morals and religion, and act as though the
salvation of the soul was a matter in which we had no in-
terest.

.*W

Such is the practice of the great mass of men. Their
profession as to the claims of religion is very different.
There are few men in any christian congregation who do
not intend at some future time to give attention to the con-
cerns of the soul. However immoral in their life and in-
different to the startling calls of providence, few pass on
from year to year without making resolutions of amend-
ment and reform. There is always in the distance some
period of rest and leisure, when the things of eternity shall
receive the consideration they deserve. But this period,
alas ! never arrives to many. Repentance is dek ed and
preparation for death is postponed, until disease and pain
banish all thought of an hereafter. The habit of procras-
tination grows with men's growth and strengthens with
their strength, so that the hoary bairs of age are as little
conversant with the realities of religion as the inexperience
and heedlessness of youth. Years of busy intercourse with
the world and worldly men ; continued association with
the frivolous, the giddy and the profane ; mere nominal

THE ACCEPTKI) TIME.

church attcmlanco without the saving power of a preached
gospel upon the licart, render salvation all hut hopeless to
the aged sinner.

A zealous minister tells of a conversation ho had
with one of his hearers — a man of unstained moral charac-
ter and exemplary attendance upon ordinances. In the
course of pastoral visitation, addressing him and his fam-
ily, he urged upon all a hearty and instantaneous accept-
ance of Christ. When the minister had left, his friend
accompanied him, and when together on the road thus ad-
dressed his pastor : — " Spend your time and strength upon
the young ; lahour to briny them to Jesus. It is too late
for such as mo. I know that I hava never heen a christian.
I fully believe that when I die I shall go down to perdition,
but some how I do not care. I know perfectly all you can
say, but I feel it no more than a stone." This man died,
with just such words upon his lips. He had delayed seek-
ing God in youth, and grown up a mere formalist, until
his heart became as adamfint. Are there any liere in this
sad condition, or are there any approaching it ? To such
we address these words, " Behold ?jott' is the accepted time,
and mm is the day of the salvation." There is a point be-
yond which God's long-suii'ernig mercy cannot be experi-
enced, and when salvation is impossible.

" There is a time, wo know not when,
A point, we kuow not where ;
That marks, the destiny of men,
For glory or despair.

O' where is this mysterious honrn,
By which onr path is crossed :
Beyond which, God liimself hath sworn,
That he who goes is lost ?

How far may we go on in sin ?
How long will God forbear '.'
Whore does hope end, and where begin
The contiues of despair ?"

TIIK ACCEPTED TIME.

l<i ii

We may not limit tho sovereign grace of God, beyond
tlie declarations of Hcriptm-e. The text does not teach
that, .salvation is restricted to any one period of life, or
any particular dispensation. Under Jewish and christian
dispensations alike, though more clearly under the latter,
is tho gospel ofiered for man's acceptance. " Tho mercy
of tho Lord is from everlasting to everlasting, and his
righteousness unto children's children." Changes may
take place in the creeds and confessions of churches, but
no change can take place in the purposes of Almighty
love. Salvation was intended to meet the wants of guilty
man under each and every dispensation, from the fall of
Adam, onwards until the linal winding up of God's moral
government. The redeemed are to be gathered in from
every age, and from every quarter of the globe. To the
Jew of Patriarchal, and the christian of Gospel ages, the
same language is addressed ; — "now is the accepted time —
now is the day of salvation." Nor does the text imply
that if a man rejects the offer of salvation to-day, it can
never be renewed. There is no period of life beyond the
reach of sovereign mercy. Youth, manhood, and old age,
are all more or less susceptible of religious impressions.
To the vigorous, — strong and active intellect of
youth, full of hope and promise, and about to enter upon
the conflict of existence with all its evil passions and strong
temptations, we say, now is the accepted time ; now, be-
yond all other periods, is there hope of a happy life spent
in God's favour, and an immortal existence in his pres-
ence. To those more advanced in years, who have hither-
to neglected or despised the overtures of redeeming love
and are engrossed with the anxious cares of business, we
say, tioic is the accepted time. Your past neglect of re-
ligious obligations has not lessened tho a.nxiety of heaven

THE AC'CKPTRD TIME.

4»

on your account. The offer is .still as free and the certain-
ty of salvation as definite, provided you surrender your

heart and life to the government of Christ. And to the aged
and infirm, trembling on the verge of the grave, we come
•with equal earnestness and sincerity and make the same
glad and gracious announcement : — now is the accepted
time — now, if ever, is your day of salvation. The day is
fast waning — the shadows are gathering, and twilight and
darkness will soon envelope the earth, but you need not
despair. Behold now — this day — this hour — this present
moment, is the accepted time !

In a very truthful and solemn sense, the present mo-
ment may be said to be the accepted time. It is the time
when God makes the offer of salvation. There is nothing
to ensure its continuance. The offer is all of free graco
on the part of the Almighty. There is no obligation rest-
ing upon him to put forth the smallest efforts for the res-
toration of the sinner. It is n<^^ for man to dictate as to
the method or moment of his salvation. "When the king
gives an audience to his subjects, it is their place to avail
themselves of his gracious condescension. "When the
manna is falling, it is the part of wisdom to gather. "When
the fountain is flowing, let the thirsty traveller drink.
And when God through his accredited ambassadors, makes
a full and free offer of reconciliation, let not sinners be so
foolish as to disdain the call. The good physician is pas-
sing — now is the moment to avail yourselves of his infinite
skill. Bring out your sick ones — those troubled with dead-
ly maladies and incurable complaints ; come with all your
troubles which are the fruit of sin and cast them at his
feet. A perfect cure is guaranteed — full remission of guilt
and sin — present peace and future endless joy.

1 —

THE ACCEPTED TIME.

The reasons why men should embrace tlie present of-
fer are so plain, that it seems almost needless to repeat
them. The day of salvation may end before the day of life ;
the pleadings and entreaties of the Holy Spirit may cease
long before existence terminates. The proj)het says^
•' Seek ye the Lord u7ii^e he may be found, call ye upon
Him while he is near." There is then a limit to the offer
of salvation. There is a time when men will call in vain
and seek to no purpose — when prayers shall be unanswered,
and mercy beyond the reach of the despairing soul. God
does not in every case continue to the sinner the choice of
salvation or perdition up to the hour of death. This were
to set a Premium on the maxim of the ungodly, " Let us
continue in sin that grace may abound." "God is de-
parted from me" said the hopeless King of Israel, at the
close of a rebellious and wicked life, and so might many in
all our congregations say who have despised their day of
grace. It is no marvel though such confessions are but
seldom heard, and that men try to delude themselves into
another belief, for out of hell itself, there is no feeling so
terrible as the consciousness,that life has been spent to no
real advantage, and that death finds us unprepared.

This fearful crisis in the souls' history, may come to
a man unknown and imperceptibly. When Samson slept
upon the knees of Delilah, and awoke out ot that fatal
sleep, he was for a time unconscious that his strength was
gone. *' He wist not that the Lord was departed from
luiii.' Says the prophet, speaking of spiritual insensi-
bility : '* Grey hairs are here and there upon him, yet he
knoweth it not." Just as we pass on from the vigour and
comeliness of youth to the infirmities and baldness of age —
all unconscious from day to day of the striking change,
that is steadily advancing in our physical constitution, so

THE ACCEPTED TIME.

is it with many men wLo arrive at this crisis, wholly igno-
rant of their clanger. Others around them, see these grey
hairs and all the accompanying tokens of deca^ and disso-
lution, but they mark them not, nor feel concerned about
the flight of years. They have no anxiety as to the future
— no tormentiugs of conscience. Their outward life is
perchance respectable — their church standing fair — their
attendance upon ordinances diligent. Taking these things
as a criterion of their internal state, they conclude that
they cannot come short of salvation. And yet in many
cases these outward acts of worship) are but the coverings
that hide the rotteness within. There is a state which in
many cases precedes death called "Coma." Oftentimes it
disappoints the hopes of anxious friends, who regard it as
indicating refreshing repose to the weary sufferer. For
the time there is entire suspension of the sensitive powers
— the patient seems in a profound sleep. This is followed
by a momentary revival — by delirum, muttering and agita-
tion — but only to sink back again into the still profouuder
sleep of death. How symbolical of that condition which
many experience — the precursor of eternal woe !

But the best of all possible reasons why men should
accept of Christ, is the universally admitted fact that life
may end suddenly and unexpectedly. You are only certain
of the present moment. You dare not say, '* I will repent
at some future time," for the next moment is not under
your control. Thou knowest not what a day may bring
forth. During this short service, thousands have passed
to the bar of God, and within the next hour your call may
come. Can you not recall the names of many who started
with you in the race of life, but have long since j)assed to
their account ? ; some of them, in acts of vi(?e and profli-
gacy, v/ith scarcely sufficient time to cry for mercy. To

THE ACCEPTED TIME.

be thus hurried from the debauchery of sin, into the pres-
ence of a holy God, is a fearful prospect. Why then de-
lay, since Hfe is so uncertain ? No time can be more fa-
vourable than the present. Every day's delay, strengthens
the power of corruption — weakens the efficiency of con-
science — renders the licentious pleasures of the flesh more
attractive and seducing — lessens the chances of escape,and

makes it more difficult to change the life. To postpone
such an important matter as the happiness of the soul
throughout eternity, until some more convenient season, is
surely not the dictate of reason. If in the day of health,
when the powers and faculties of the mind are unimpaired
and vigorous, men make provision against their death by
settling their affairs and assigning their effects to those
they love, surely it is the part of wisdom, to balance ac-
counts with our Maker, ere palsied by disease, the tongue
is speechless and the memory gone ! "When a man is so
useless and worn out, that he can no longer take part in
the business of this world, it is no time for him to begin
serious concern about another world. When men have
served the devil for three score years, and find at last that
bis recompence is but remorse of conscience, is it honor-
able to turn round and offer the remnants of a wasted in-
tellect to the service of their Maker ? In the late Ameri-
can war, the chaplain of one of the regiments came to the
bedside of a dying soldier, and exhorted him to give hiru-
self to Jesus ere it was too late. The dying man replied : —
*• Chaplain, I have done a great many bad and wicked
things in my past days, but I am too much of a man to
fling the fag end of my life in the face of the Almighty."
The poor man knew little evidently, of that long-suffering
patience that can accept the sinner at the eleventh hour,

THE ACCEPTED TIME.

but he scorned to insult the Ahnighty, with what in his
estimation was but a hollow, hypocritical bid for mercy !

Let this season pass, and who shall prophesy another
day of salvation ? Go on in sin. Stifle the warnings of
conscience — dissipate serious impressions — rush more
madly than evei: into the vortex of pleasure — give the reins
to passion — laugh to scorn the warnings of the preacher,
and fill up the cup of your iniquity — but know, oh sinner,
that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment.
Such conduct may produce no uneasy sensations at the
present, but the hour of death will give a proper value to
the sensual enjoyments of an abandoned life. " Come with
mc," says a living preacher, "to the bedside of one that
lies a dying, after having run a course of vice — early —
fiercely, madly run it. This young man has gone down
the dance of pleasure, and danced it out. The lights
quenched, the music ceased — the actors gone — he is left
upon the stage. Now another fire, than that of guilty
passions is burning in his veins. His heart is beating a
quick march to the grave. Laughed at, so long as he ap-
peared in the distance, death with grim and ghastly as-
pect is now standing by his side. To quiet an uneasy con-
science, he has imbibed infidel opinions, and his infidelity,
a rotten plank, bends under the weight of the hour — is
breaking beneath his feet. To my dyiu ; day I never can
forget, how eagerly he flung bis arms 1, catch a hold of
Christ, and the cries of that ghastly man as he was swept
oft" into eternity." What a commentary on the vanity of
earthly joys, and what an argument for the reasonableness
of our text : — " Now is the accepted time — now is the day
of salvation."

Many are the touching and delicate offices that minis-
ters of the gospel have to discharge in their daily round of

I !

=H-

THE ACCEPTED TIME.

H ■

duties, but by far the hardest is to stand by the bedside of
a dying sinner, for whose salvation there is but the remot-
est chance. It is comparatively easy to go into the chris-
tian family, where death has made successive breaches, and
sitting down with sorrow- stricken mourners, apply the
balm of consolation to their wounded hearts. It is sweet
to sit by the bedside of the dying saint, as the chariot of
fire descends amid songs of praise, to receive the glorified
spirit to the inheritance of the saints. But what comfort
can we give — what grounds of hope can we offer to that
man who has systematically and persistently through a
long life, despised the gospel of the Son of God, and de-
rided the thrcatenings of a day of judgment ? The blood
of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin, and may be effectual
under the Holy Spirit's operations in the very moment of
death, but how very few of the class we speak of, are pre-
pared to receive the consolations of religion, in the last
struggle with the king of terrors *?

Perhaps none who hear me, are disposed to trust to a
death bed repentance. Your resolutions are honest. But
however sincere these resolutions may be, they are of no
value in themselves without instant action. That
man is surely a fool, who, concious that a mortal
disease has attacked his system, neglects to apply
the remedy, until recovery is impossible — who knows
that the vessel is sinking fast in mid-ocean, but
neglects the chance of safety in the life-boat, hi his
eagerness to snatch some worthless trinket, that should be
of poor account in the estimation of a drowning man.
But greater fool is he, who for the sake of wealth or fame
or pleasure or carnal gratifications, surrenders his hopes
for eternity, and leaves all preparation for the future, to
a period in his existence that never comes.

A SOUL FOESAKEN.

God is depp'-ted from me."— 1st Samuel, 28tli, y. 15.

The day whose dawn is ushered in with beauty and
brilliance, may close in blackness and tempest. The life
begun in raptures of glory, may end in the wailings of de-
spair. TliD King whose sceptre has hushed the empires of
the world to silence, may loose liis crown, forfeit his palace
find possessions, and perish ignominiously upon the battle
field, with no courtiers to flatter, and no friend to cheer
him in his closing Jiours. Napoleon Bonaparte, after,
like a second Aloxandt r, terrifyiug the world with his in-
vading armies, dies in Saint Helena, a poor crippled dis-
honored monarch — the remains of his former glory, serv-
ing but to reveal the misery and wretchedness of his later
years. Louis Philip, once the idol of his nation, flees in
terror from his beloved Franco, and ends his days in far
different circumstances, than might have been expected,
from the earlier and happier yenrs of his reign. The last
Napoleon, driven from his throne — accursed by his formoi-
subjects— despised by the Avorld at large— humiliated and

, !

■ f *

A SOUL FORSAKEN.

m '

overborne by ti rival power — compelled to capitulate and
acucpt conditions of peace and dying in a foreign land —
such instances prove tlie frailty and the vanity of human
greatness : — Of a truth

" 'Tis b(3tter to bo lowly born,
Ami range with bumble lives in content
Than to be perked up in a blistering grief,
And wear a golden sorrow."

How strikingly are such thoughts illustrated hi the life of
King Saul, whose chequered and sad career, now draws
near its termination ! How different the close of his reign
from its begnniing ? How hopeful and auspicious — how
bright and happy seemed the future in his own eyes, and
in the estimation of the people of Israel, when that noble
loolving youth was set apart and anonited to the Kingly
office ? He seemed as one born to command — marked out
for the exercise of power, and destined by liis physical
courage and personal excellencies, to retain the affection
and admiration of a loviag people, and awe into submis-
sion rival powers and Idugdoms. In an age when strength
and beauty of personal appearance were more valued than
at the present day — Saul occupied a proud preeminence
among his brethren. The simple description of his out-
ward man when he stood before Samuel is such as to com-
pel our admiration. '' A choice youug man and a goodly,
there was not among the children of Israel a goodlier per-
son than he ; from his shoulders and upward he wiis high-
er than any of the people." On whom asks tlie rroi^het,
is all the desire of Israel '? Is it not on thee and on thy
father's house ? And when Samuel pours the vial of con-
secrated oil upon liis head and kisses liini ; mid when wo
hear him say : — " Is it not because the Lord liath anoin-
ted thee to be captain over his inheritance ;"' and when we

A SOUL FOnSAKEN.

listen to tlie loud acclamations and joyful hosannalisof the
people, as they crowd around their newly consecrated King
in Gilgal, wo feel in the fervour of our heart : — " Surely
if ever monarch may enjoy a prosperous reign, it must be
Saul, the first of Israel's Kings."

Added to his commanding presence and beauty of per-
son, Saul was not destitute of many higher traits of char-
acter. He was not the bad man at the beginning, that he
doubtless became before his death. He was capable in
certain circumstances of exemplifying royal dignity and
true nobility of mind. With all his wickedness, we can
scarce help loving him. We sincerely regret that such
talents as he possessed should have been prostituted and
debased by an ungovernable temper and the supremacy of
a cruel and insatiable jealousy. It is easy to discover hid-
den under the excessive meanness and crime that disfig-
ured his government and alienated his subjects, the germs
of a manly generosity and a tender affection, sufficient to
have made him a wise and beloved ruler. As we look at
him in his later years, we are reminded of Milton's de-
scription of Beelzebub, when tlie powers of hell conspire
for the overthrow of heaven : —

" In his rising he seemed
A pillar of state. Princely counsel in his face yet .shown
]\Iajestic though in ruin : Sage he stood
With atlanteau shoulders fit to hear,
The weight of mightiest monarchies ; his look
Drew audience and attention — still as night,
Or summer's noontide an*. '

Since the eventful day of Saul's consecratior* m. Kjlig
of Israel, many striking changes have taken pwe in the
kingdom. Samuel has been gathered to hi^ ilatliers ; the
school of the prophets lias lost its honoured. Ijeivd, and the

[ill

;:i .. I

ill

A SOUL FORSAKEN.

theocracy one of its best and most upright Judges. ' * Sam-
uel died, and all the Israelites were gathered together and
lamented him, and buried him in his liouse at Iiamah.''
Thus passed away :

"The last of those who righteous ruled the land,

Ere man sat thron'd in I&rael.

Rest, Prophet, rest, thoit hast fulfilled thy mission.

llest in the peace and sabhath of the tomb,

Till from the bands of death, God call thee forth

A spirit unfleshed— once more to rise on earth.

Ami pour heaven's judgments on the unrighteous king."

The counsels and reproofs of Samuel, had long been de-
spised and forgotten by Saul. So long as the Prophet
lived, and the king gave heed to his admonitions, the
kingdom was comparatively safe and Saul's reign prosper-
ous. But long before the striking events recorded in this
chapter, and long before the death of Samuel, the king had
alienated the Prophet, who left him to his fate, not how-
ever without distinct intimations, that having rejected tlia
word of the Lord, he was already rejected as king. David
also had been banished from the palace and the music of
his harp no longer calmed the turbulent spirit of the
haughty monarch. The visits of prophets, and divine
communications in dreams had ended. The kingdom was
shaken from centre to circumference. The PhiUstines
marshalled their hosts in battle array. The ablest and
most daring soldier of the age was with the enemy, and
the once loyal subjects of lung Saul, were estranged and
disaffected towards his government and person. "Who
wonders that the heart of the king failed within him — that
God forsaken and rejected — not knowing whither to turn
for consolation and deliverance, he becomes the prey of
superstitious fears, and seeks by the aid of secrecy and
sorcerv and devilish incantations, to read the judgments of

A SOUL FORSAKEN.

5;i

the future ami liolil coramnaieation -svitli tlie invisible
■world ?

Sucli is the state of matters in Israel, as presented in
the context. " The Philistines .c:athcrcd their armies to-
gether for warfare, to fight v/ith Israel." The intimation
was ominous to the Inng. The time was when he should
not have qimilcd at such tidin^ifs — when full of counige and
eager to avenge the enemies of his kingdom, he would not
liave liesitatcd for a moment as to the path of duty. In
these davs to use the words of the Poet :

" One blast upon his Imfjle horn
Wore worth fi thousand men."

Then instead of iearing the issue, or '' f/rcath/ tremhling,''
he went forth confident of victory, his whole being con-
vulsed and agitated by,

*' The stern joy which warriors feel
In foemen worthv of their steel."

But all this is now changed. The enemy, fired with liat-
red against Saul and resolved to destroy the Hebrew Com-
monwealth, is surrounding him. The time has gone by
for aid from heaven. The Lord answers him not, neither
by dreams, nor by urim, nor by prophets. The guilty
conscience of the monarch foretells coming disaster upon
himself and his kingdom. In this extremity of despair, he
thinks of Samuel. Oh 1 for an hour of the Prophet — or
even a brief moment of his presence, to scatter the dark-
ness that gathers round his spirit and cheer his burdened
soul in this, its time of need ! But the thing is impossible.
We may weep in agony over the coffin lid of the friend,
whose counsels we have rejected and wliose warnings we

A SOUL I'ORSAKKN.

have despisGil, but an ocean of tears, will not bring back
the departed.

Tbc situation is still more desperate in tlic estimation
of tlie king, for the wizards and familiar spirits, who pro-
fessed an intimate acquaintance with the invisible world
and practised the arts of divination, have long since been
banished from the land, by the solemn enactment of the
king himself. It was now a capital crime to practice such
incantations, in a land where God revealed his will, with-
out the aid of such foolish and wicked agencies. What
then in such an awful crisis can the poor distracted Mon-
arch do ? His soul is dark as midnight, and ]io intima-
tion's of God's will are forthcoming. Fight ho must or llec,
for the Philistines have challenged, and are nigh at hand.
Every hour's delay, but favours the enemy. J)riven al-
most to madness, ho will try once more to raise the cur-
tain of the future, though it should but reveal his coming
doom, in the downfall of his throne and the slaughter of
himself and sons !

It is indeed a curious expedient that Saul resorts to —
humiliating in the extreme to a noble nature — foolish when
judged of in the light of reason — shameful and sinful when
resorted to by a man of his intelligence — one who was
moreover, chosen, anointed and dedicated to the service
of the Lord. Nicodemus came to Christ for instruction
imder the cloud of night. Saul steals in the darkness, in
disguise and under false pretences to consult an emissary
of Satan. Guilt and superstition are allies. When a
man is at variance with his Maker and conscience in his
very dreams foreshadows condemnation, there is nothing
too preposterous or ridiculous for him to atcempt. It is
not singular then to find Saul saymg to his servants : —

I i ft !

i i; M

A SOIli lOliSAKI.N.

jtion
in
5sary
m a
liis
liiiig
It is

" Scok mo a womau that hath a lamiliar spirit, that I may
go and enquire of her." It is barely possible thought the
king, that some solitary soothsayer may still be found, \vho
can disclose to me the issue of the impending conflict, and
end this terrible suspense.

Sucli an one is soon found. Although royal enact-
ment had long before banished such malign spirits from
the kingdtmi, "prohibitory decrees can neither exercise
the devil from the hearts of men or nations." And now
the King of Israel in disguise, stands face to face with the
witch of Endor. " I prny thee divine unto me by the fa-
miliar spirit, and bring me up him whom I shall name
unto thee." At first the Pythoness refuses, lest it should
como to the knowledge of the king, that she still practises
the forbidden act, but on the pledge of Saul that no pun-
ishment should follow, she proceeds to exercise her gifts.
Then transpires the strange wicrd scorn' of the context.
An old man comes up out of the earth, covered with a
nuintle, stooping with his face to the ground and bowing
himself. It is none other than Samuel, Saul perceives.
" Why hast thou disquieted me to bring me up ?" says
the messenger from the dead. "I am sore distressed,"
says the king, "for the Philistines make war against mo,
and (rod /."? depiirti'd fi-<»n inc.'' The prophet asgures him
that the days of his reign arc ended, and that ere tomor-
row's sun should set, he and his sons should fall upon the
battle field. Ko marvel that Saul fell prostrate to the
earth. As the handwriting upon the wall fixed the doom
of the guilty King of Babylon, so this voice from the grave,
sealed the destiny of the fallen monarch !

It is not my purx)osG to discuss the different theories,
infidel, rationalistic or scriptural, that have been held cou-

I »

A SOUJi I'OUSAKEN.

cerning this straiip:o occurrcnco. Tliat wliicli rcgarclH the
whole as a piece of t^'ross imposition, v.n dismiss at once.
That which re^^ards it as an actual ap[)t'araii(;e of Sanniel,
effected by Satanic aj^'cucy, we tliink exceedinj-jly unlikely.
Wliethcr there was an actual hodily appearance of the
Prophet brought about by Divine ngency, or a spiritual visi-
on, which rendered Samuel for the time being, real to the
guilty king, it is useless and nnmaterial to debate. Of one
thing we may rest assured, that Saul honestly behevod ho
saw the Prophet and heard from his lips, as in other days,
the stern denunciations of heaven. What is there aston-
isliing in the record, that Samuel at the command of God
should revisit the earth and become the messenger of Jc-
hovuh's will ? If we believe that angels are commissioned
on messages of judgment and mercy — if wo believe that
Lazarus came back to hfc, after four days corruption in
tho grave — why should wo deem incredible the mortal ap-
pearance of the Prophet from tho secret chambers of tho
spirit world ?

It needed no messenger from heaven to toll the king
his fate. God had indeed departed from him, else he nev-
er W'Ould have resorted to diabolic agency, in the vain at-
tempt of rolling off the burden of despair. When men and
women go to consult witches or attend iho seances of
spiritualists, in tlio hope of understanding more of the fu-
ture, than God's word has revealed to mortals, it is pain-
fully evident, that they are the victims of a strange dolu
sion, and given up to believe a lie. How weak '
the reason — how shattered the judgment, and hov.' asea
the imagination, when men resort to such methods of
quieting the tumult that rages within the heart ?

What is implied in the sad admission of Saul : "God

s . f^

A Sor-L FORSAKKN.

the

is departed from me ?" It is not a condition of mind, pe-
culiar to the King of Israel. It is often experienced in
our day. The rapid descent of some men from one degree
of wickedness to another, until they pcrmaturely end their
days, is evidence of this state. It is nothing less than the
frenzied wail of an innuortal soul, on the brink of jierdi-
tion

It does not imply, that the Almighty changes His
risible (lealiiifiii with the sinner, or takes from him the
daily blessings of liis all wise and universal providence, or
sQts upon him the seal of liis disapprobation. So far from
this, the awful crisis may be passed, unknown to the man
himself and his fellows. Up to a dying hour, the sinner
may be ignorant that God has departed from him.

When God departs from a man, ths Hoii/ Sjiirit ceases
to xtriir. Successively grieved, resisted and quenched, the
last stage is then reached. After this point, there is no
power or inclination to repent. Restraining grace ceases.
The man is surrendered to his evil passions and desires,
and all the woes of a coming hell, are experienced by an-
ticipation. It is absolute, unmitigated moral ruin, beyond
which there cannot be greater wretcl]cdness. The opera-
tions of God's spirit are but faintly understood, and under-
valued. What light and rain and dew are to the plant, is
God's spirit to the soul. Withdraw these, and although
the root remains in the ground, it looses its vitality. The
leaves and branches soon begin to wither and decay, and
become fit only for the burning. So is it, wben the Di-
vine influence ceases to operate upon the human soul.
Animal life continues, but spiritual death has seized the
immortal clement, and holds its victim firmly, until eter-
nity "ompletes its misery. It is the physician giving up

)' ■

'i i

A SOUL I'ORSAKEX.

the patient. It is, as when the mariners lash tli3 helm,
and allow the vessel to go imcared for, upon the waves of
the tempest-tossed ocean.

All this may, and often does happen, with regular at-
tendance upon the means of grace. Trees droop and die
under the most favourable circumstances. The soil is
rich. The exposure is to the sun. Science and art have
come to the help of nature, and everything that human
skill suggests has been furnished. But all is in vain, and
but hastens decay and death. If the tree is healthy, such
auxiUaries increase its growth, but where there is internal
rottenness, they hasten its downfall.

The condition of men in this state differs. ISomo ex-
perience occasional twinges of cou science and moral con-
vulsions. Others never feel concern about the soul until
a dying hour, if even then. There are no more tokens of
anxiety concerning the future, than there is action and in-
telligence in the lifeless body. Nay, even when there is
consciousness that God has departed the soul, it brings
with it no relief. Up to a certain point, it is good to fear
lest such a terrible condition may be ours. But \^hen it
becomes an actual experience, the knowledge of our state
only increased the hopeless agony of despair. Life hence-
forth becomes unbearable, excruciatnig agony — without
sympathy and hope, the soul falls back upon itself, and
longs for death to end its pain. To end ! — would it were
so, the guilty sinner responds. To Saul, it was but the
beginning of more terrible torture. " When the pale horse
of death goes before, the red horse of wrath follows after."
Sftnl became a suicide. Defeated in battle, dethroucd by
the stern decree of heaven — driven to desperation, as lie
sees his ranks broken and the enemy victorious, he falls

A SOUL FORSAKEN.

upon his sword and dies. •' So Saul died, and his tluree
sons, and his armour bearer, and all his men, that same
day together." Could language paint a sadder spectacle,
or draw a more perfect picture of utter desolation ? " How
are the mighty fallen, and the v/eapons of war perished !
There the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away — the
sh'eld of Saul, as though he had not been anointed with
oil."

Notice finally, that when men are conscious that God
has departed from them, then they begin to seek after
Him. Saul put forth futile efforts to regain God's favour,
and enjoy his fellowship. Reduced to an extremity that
compelled action, he calls upon God for succour, but Je-
hovah's ear is closed against his cry. There is no re-
sponse. The heavens are as brass. Like the condemned
felon, he intercedes for mercy when too late. Like the
tiny boat in t)ie rapids of Niagara, ho is drifting on help-
less, and abandoned to ruin. Failing to gain the ear of
Jehovah, he seeks after Samuel. He had despised the
Prophets warnings — driven him from his presence in ang-
er and set his own perverse judgment above the counsels
of Samuel. But now when his faithful monitor is dead,
and God refuses to answer his enquiries, who is it that is
sought after to allay the feverish agitation of his soul \>
To whom does he go to make known his terrible condition ?
To that very man, who had sternly reproached him for his
wickedness in former days. He accounted him his worst
enemy, when alive, Jut now when he ips dead, he regards
him as his best and truest friend !

And is it not so with many sinners, who are only
brought to sober reason, when on the boundaries of the
unseen world ? Then they lament the folly that led them

! :.

(}(>

A SOUL I'OKSAKKN.

to despise the faithful rebukes of friends, whoso admoni-
tions no longer trouble them. In bitterness of heart, they
mourn over counsels neglected and reproofs despised.

Some who hear me, may bo brought to a death-bed,
where conscience long repressed and stiffled, will assert her
supremacy and place before the mind their real state.
The fact that "God has departed," will then flash upon the
soul, with terrible vividness of perception. To whom then
will you go for comfort and counsel ? Who will be the
most likely to prove steadfast in the hour of death as they
have been in life ? You who have despised the appeals of
parents — who have abandoned home — broken the hearts of
godly mothers, and disgraced the purity and chastity of
loving sisters — who have by a life of rottenness and cor-
ruption brought yourselves to a speedy grave — who, I ask,
would you wish most earnestly to be near you in those
hours of mortal agony, preceding dissolution ? were it pos-
sible at Buch a time, to call back departed spirits, who
would be your choice? Would it be the gambler and sabbath-
breaker and drunkard, from whom you learned the way to
ruin ? Ah no ! whatever be the depth of degradation,
there is no man so abandoned as to choose such compan-
ions and advisers in a dying hour. Your cry then will be :
— •' Bring me up the father or mother, the sister or broth-
er, the minister or Sabbath-school teacher, who faithfully
set before me the terrible consequences of my folly and
pled with me to desist. Bring me up such, that I may
but hear their voice again, though it pronounce my irre-
vocable doom!" Ah, were it possible in our dying hour
to call from the grave, the forms of those we now so sadly
miss, we should but hear from them our condemnation :
" Wherefore dost thou ask of me, seeing the Lord is de

A SOUL lOKSAKLN.

parted from thee, and is become tliine enemy" would be
the answer to our call.

In the account given of the exploration of the Ama-
zon a few years ago, mention is made of the peculiar notes
of a bird, heard by night on the shores of the river. The
Indian guides call it — •' The cry of a lost soul," and many
of the Indians believe it to be so :

" In that black forest, where, when day is done,

With a snake's stillness glides the Amazon :

Darkly from sunset to the rising sun,

A cry, as if the pained heart of the wood —

The long despairing moau of solitude —

Startles the trayeller with a sound so drear.

His heart stands still, and listens like his ear.

The guide, as if he beard a dead — bell toll.

Starts — crosses himsdlf and whispers — "^ Lost Soul .'"

" Poor fool," with hope stiil mocking his despair

He wanders, shrieking on the midnight air,

For human pity and for Christian prayer.

Saints strike him dumb !

No prayer for him, who sinning unto death

Burns always in the furnace of God's wrath."

The Indians superstition, alas ! is not mere fancy. That
there are cries of lost souls, who can doubt ? The awful
wail, " God is departed from me," shall echo throughout
eternity, as the torments of perdition become more ex-
cruciating and unbearable !

\'o

til

KEEPING THE HEAET.

" Keep thy heart with all dilligencc, for out of it are the issusa
of life."— Provorhs 4, v. 23.

Among tho many wise and instructive proverbs of
Solomon none surpass this. Commending itself to the
good sense and judgment of every reader, it gains accept-
ance -wii^.out lengthened argument or persuasion. And
yet how many young men th'ire are who subscribe to the
sentiment, but despise or at all events neglect the coimsel !
The heart is the last and least of all things that concerns
them,while they run riot in vicious indulgence, and abandon
themselves to everv form of bin.

The word heart is used in the scripture with various
significations ; sometimes for one faculty of the mind, at
other times for the entire inner being. The apostle Paul,
in describing the character of the . igan world before the
dawn of Christianity, says : — "They became vain in their im-
agination, and their foolish heart was darkened." The
word heart in this case evidently signifies the understand-
ing. In other passages it means the affections, as when

!ii

KEEPING THE HEAKT.

in Solomon's proverbs we read, " My son, give mc thine
heart." In other places it refers to the memory, as when

David says, — "Thy word have I hid in my heart, that I
might not sin against Thee." Again we find it used for
the conscience, — " If our heart condemn us ; God is great-
er than our heart, and kuoweth all things. Beloved, if
our heart condemn us not, then have we confidence toward
God." In the greater majority of instances, however, it is
used in a wider signification, embracing all the powers,
faculties and affections of the soul ; — whatever gives charac-
ter to the judgment or colour to the conduct. Says the
Psalmist, — " Delight thyself in the Lord, and he shall give
thee the desires of thine heart ;" or as Solomon says, —
"Keep thy heart with all dilligence, for out of it are the
issues of life."

The religion of the Bible differs from all human sys-
tems of morality, inasmuch as it seeks purity of conduct
from holiness of heart. It does not merely cut off the ex-
crcsceiicos of the life which shock the moral sense and of-
fend the taste ; it docs not simply destroy the branches,
which are decaying and withering by reason of the unseen
worm that is gnawing at the root ; it docs not seek simply
to prop up and brace the character by artificial rules, as
men bandage broken limbs, or prop up tottering houses,
that need new foundations to secure their prosperity ; but
it goes back to the source of all outward action, and de-
mands rectitude and purity in the inwai\l parts. All mere
outward conformity to law, and all external compliance
with the demands of scripture, which are not the legiti-
mate fruit of love t' I God, it pronounces worthless and
unacceptable. The fountain must bo pure or the stream

will be polluted ; the heart mubt be clean, or the hfe will

)

1' 'J

KEKPlNCi THE HEAKT.

be stained by greater or less impurities. God's law thus
differs from human law. Human tribunals can only take
cognizance of outward actions, but the higher law ot
Christianity, as expounded by Christ upon the Mount, re-
cognizes the motives and purposes and ruhng passions of
the soul, which give birth to thoughts and words and ac-
tions.

How necessary then to keej) the heart with all dili-
gence ! "If you would keep the apple of the eye from in-
jury, a sense, for the loss of which not thousands of gold
and silver could compensate ; if you would keep in a
casket, under lock and key, a jewel fit for a monarch's
diadem ; if you would keep as a most sacred deposit the
last token of a dying parent's love, much more keep the
heart, which is the organ of the moral nature, which is
the key of character and conduct, and between which and
the outer world, a busy correspondence is kept up." It is
true that mere diligence on our part is not a sufficient
safeguard against temptation ; but Almighty strcDgth is
always imparted to tlic earnest soul. We do not come in-
to the world with hearts pure and spotless, with no bias to
sin and no inherent tendencies to wrong. Our own ex-
perience confirms the testimony of inspiration that we en-
ter life infected with sin — soul-diseased — liable to catch
the infection of every pestilence that breathes in the moral
atmosphere. It should therefore be the constant effort of
every rational being to shun the path of danger ; to keep
the heart tender and sensitive, guileless and guiltless — as
near as possible to that state of innocence which man en-
joyed before sni entered our world, and marred that sweet
communion wliich existed between the creature and tlie
Creator.

^■p

KEEPING THE HEART.

**Keep the heart with all dilHgeuce," or keep it with

all keepiiujs or ahore all kccphu/s. More than all things else,
let this be the chief business of life. Above all other
watching, i,'uarcl the heart. Defend it as men defend the
fort and citadel that is attacked, or the garrison that is
besieged. By every means prevent the enemy from pas-
sing the stronghold and entering within the busy city.
Once a lodgement is effected, all hope of salvation is well
nigh gone. It is a much harder thing to expel the invader
than to prevent his ingress. Like the entering in of the
wedge, when once an incision has been effected, it is com-
paratively easy to drive it home. Keep the heart defended
at every point. The avenues of approach are legion. There
are sins and temptations adapted to every opening. In
times of blockade and war, where large frigates cannot go,
gunboats that draw but little water skim the shore and pass
into port unnoticed, under the very muzzles of the guns
intended to destroy the menacing fleet. It is a hard mat-
ter to maintain a perfect blockade by day and by night.
Some black privateer will at the fitting opportunity pass
out into the open sea, or some vessel full of stores and am-
unition will gain an entrance to the forbidden port. Even
the warrior clad in mail may be pierced by the arrow shot
at a venture. Babylon with its hundred gates of brass,
and walls eighty-seven feet thick, and tbree hundred and
fifty feet high, defended by the deep bed of the river Eu-
phrates, seemed nideed impregnable to any hostile army.
But the enemy without firing a single shot, having drained
the river's bed, passed in throngli the open gates, aud
taking possession of the city, slew Belshazzar in the midst
of his godless revelry. It is so with the human heart. It
is like ancient Thebes with its hundred gates, out of which
thousands of warriors marched to the conflict. There are

■ I'

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fiC

KKKl'IN<l TlIK IIEAIIT.

! *'

] ' r,

I^ I '

innumerable oponinpfs, all ol' wliicli must bu cunstantly
ilefentlcd. It is not enongli that wo arc proof against
\vi)at arc called face to faco oncoiinters of temptation. Wo
must be i)repareil to repel the enemy who comes stealthily
under cloud and covering cf night. Tlie sentinels must
never sleep, and every inch of ground must be occupied
where there is the smallest possibility of invasion. Other-
wise the garrison may perish in the llames, Idudlcd by a
spark of the Iroaclierous foo, or fa.ll ingloriously before the
drum has beat to arms.

There are very few men who are proof against temp-
tation at every point ; rather, we may say, there is no man
who is not assailable in some particular. \Qvy often wo
are overcome in the very thing whore we least of all ex-
pected that we should yield. We are surprised into sin,
and more surprised that we should have been so weak as
to allow ourselves to be ensnared. Sometimes a man's
weak point are his social qnalitics — Jiis generous and char-
itable disposition, or his gentleness of nature. These and
such characteristics become constitutional defects in cer-
tain circumstances. Our very excellencies of character,
may in the presence of crafty and designing men become
the instruments of our downfall. The shining gifts and
graces of christians have not unfrequontly been made the
occasion of backsliding and ag^;ravatcd sin.

Keep the Iicart pure — free from contamination. Avoid
the very appearance of evil. Let it be ever tondf r — im-
pressible, sensitive, under the rebuke of the Ahnighty.
Let no unholy desires, or false princi])les, or questionable
lines of conduct gain an entrance. Tlio heart should be
like virgin gold, clear, bright, and refulgent — reilecting as
in a mirror the attributes of Deity, just as the clear, still

KEEPING THE HEART.

lake reflects upon its bosom the starry heavens, rurity
of heart is one of the noblest adornments of character.
That divine simpUcity whicli thinketh no evil — harbours
no suspicion — imagines no pollution, and which lives in
the very atmosphere of heaven's holiness, is the most pre-
cious gem that mortals possess. Blessed indeed are the
pure in heart, for they shall see God. There shall in no
wise enter iuto heaven anything that defileth or maketh a
lie. " Who shall desceud into the hill of the Lord, or who
shall stand in His holy place '? He that hath clean hands
and a pure heart, who hath not lifted up his soul unto
vanity, nor sworn deceitfully."

If we would judge, from the conversationef many pro-
fessed christians at the present day, their hearts must be
anything but pure. It is indeed wonderful how a word
spoken in perfect innocence suggests evil thoughts, and
calls np before the mind the most shocking of impurities ;
how it provokes the licentious twinkle of the eye and smile
upon the countenance. There are some christians whose
liearts are like the pure white pebbles and shells that lie
upon the sea shore. Every ebb Jind. flow of the tide only
leaves them brighter than before. But how many there
are who while appearing in the house of God pure and
simple-minded are very different in the society of the
world. In unguarded moments, and when free from the
restraint and watchfulness of their follow-christians, they
cast up from their inmost souls the grossest impurities
that can stain the character. Have we not seen men
whose hands have been engaged in the holiest exercises of
tk ) sanctuary, engaging in the most unseemly conversa-
tion in the family and the market place, and defiling their
souls by pollutions that must eventually destroy the soul.
Men who would blush to tell a falsehood ; who would

KEEPING THE HEART.

lii 1

11'

scorn to act dishonestly ; who would not for the world be
seen intoxicated, have no scruples in uttering the most ir-
reverent and indelicate expressions, instilling by their very
looks and inuendoes the plague spots of immorality in the
opening minds of youth.

We beseech young men to keep their hearts pure. As
society is now constituted it is no easy matter even with
some measure of God's grace to resist temptation. Novels
of the vilest character are scattered over the country like
the Dragon's teeth of old, inflaming the passions, debasing
the imagination, and filling the mind with ideal monsters,
which our young men, and young women also, are not
slow to make real in their life. Books of the most ques-
tionable character, written on purpose to demoralize the
communitv, are kept by many of our booksellers and ad-
vertised in so-called respectable newspapers. Saloons,
gaieties, concert rooms, drinking clubs, billiard halls, the-
atres and ball-rooms, that dazzle the eye of unsuspecting
youth in the crowded and IVvshionable streets of our larger
to-wns and cities, make it an exceedingly difficult thing for
young men to maintain a steady and consistent life. The
young man who, as is often the case, although friendless
and homeless in a large city, maintains his character for
virtue and unbending integrity in the midst of such temp-
tations, is more worthy of renown than the soldier who
breasts the cannon's mouth and remains unhurt.

Keep the heart active. An idle, vacant, empty mind is
open to every temptation. Those who engage iv no regu-
lar occupation, or who refuse to employ their vacant
hours after the labors of the day in some improving and
ennobling study, imperil their character and hopes for
time and eternity. It is not enough that the garrison be

KEKPINO IHK IIKART.

full of men. The soltliers must be kept at drill. If not
defending tliemselvcs itgainst the enemy, let them, throw
up fortifications, and perfect themselves in the art of war.
In like manner, every power, feeling, and aifection of the
soul has its legitimate sphere. All were created for exer-
cise, and exercise will be found in some form or other. If
the mind is not engaged in pure and elevating pursuits, it
will amuse itself in debasing x)astimes and frivolities.

Much of the inconsistency of christians, as also the
degeneracy and lukowarmness of certain churches, is due
to the mental indolence of professedly religious men to
work for Christ. It is not enough for a man to take his
place in t)ie church, nor even that the principle of love be
found in the heart. Conversion is proved by redoubled
diligence in seeking the highest attainments and benefits
for ourselves and others. It naturally results in complete
sanctification. The flame of love, like the altar fire, must
be kept brightly and constantly burning. Those who are
the most zealous and energetic servants of Christ will al-
ways be found to have the purest minds and holiest lives.
There is no leisure in such cases for vain thoughts and
profitless pastimes.

Whence the necessity for ouch a command? ^'Ont of
it are the issues of life.'" This is the vital spot — the main-
spring of all our actions. It influences and moulds every
department of our being. In the heart thoughts are con-
ceived, purposes planned, words originated, and actions
born. From it as from a fountain there issue streams of
life or waters of death. Like the great reservoir, which
furnishes water to every dwelling in the city, so the heart
is the source of every volition that takes the form of re-
ality in the outward life. If the fountain be pure and re-

I'l!

KERPINO THE HEART.

itH

frosliiii^', liealtli prcvnils, l)ut if I't'tid and ]u)isoiinuf^;,
ilicn ilicro is postilciico and pla^'uc. If \nn'o. ]ircci'i){s
rule ilio heart, ilieu virtuous actions will f;hino out in llio
character.

According to the state of the heart,, vicv/ed simply as
the central organ of tljc animal system, is the health and
vigor of the frame. If the lungs arc diseased, recovery is
all but hopeless, so intimnto is the relation hotwocn these
internal organs. Physicians may rccomnKnid a halmior
atmosphere and a more genial clime, in the hope of stay-
ing the disease, but after all it is but delaying the hour of
death. Once consumption has taken hold of the vitals,
there is no hope of Icngthoning existence, and no human
power can change the result. And just as the heart is
thus the seat of natural life, so also is it the source of
liappiness here and hereafter. Out of it are the issues of
death and judgment. The moral jiowers of man, once
blunted and perverted, arc almost incapable of being re-
stored to their normal condition. When once we become
liardcned in sin and accustomed to vice, without some
marvellous exercise of Omnipotent power, there is no hope
on this side eternity, A man's character does not in
the first instance, depend upon the society in which he
mingles, but on the state of his soul. Place a demon
among angels, and he remains a demon still. Place an
angel among fiends, and he still retains his innocence. If
men were perfectly holy, they might go unharmed through
the darkest purlieus of vice. But because we are prone to
choose what is evil and reject what is good — because there
is a continual bias to evil doing in our nature, our only
safety is in avoiding the very semblaiicc of temptation.

Mncli of men's happiness in the world depends upon

KKKflNCJ TlIK IlKAKT.

tlio tl)oiij,'lits tliiit fill tlio mind. "Whore tlio licfivt is pure,
tiicrc aro holy, loving th()iif,'ht;i of God. Lilvo David, wc
then can say, — "How precious also are thy thoughts unto
nic G(jd. llow great is the sum of them. If 1 should
count them, they aro more in numher tlian the sand.
When I awake I am ever with thee." When our tlioughts
and meditations arc spiritual — heaven-horn — connected
with Christ and clustering around the throne of God and
the Cross of Calvary ; when wo spend our leisure mo-
ments by day and our waking moments by night in recall-
ing the mercies that crown existence, we anticipate the
serenity of heaven, where every thought shall be holy, and
all our happiness complete.

According to the state of the heart, .s'r< is <i viaii's hcJicf.
If — as we are told by men who profess great knowledge of
the hidden actions of the mind — a man's belief has no
bearing upon his conduct in the world and no influence
upon his slate beyond — then it would be of no consequence
what a man believed, But the *hcart directs the intellect
and therefore according to a man's I'ailh and creed so is his
condiu't. Truth and error have their source not in ihc
brain, but in tiie heart. If the poison of infidelity has been
secretly infused into the soul in early life, it will colour the
whole mental action. Thus it is that men grow up skepti-
cal of everything but what seems real to the senses, having
neillier faith in God nor in the existence of Providence,
and consequently denying the immortality of the soul and a
day of jud;;ment. AYhenever sucli a man is met with who
defiantly boasts of his infidelitv, there is certain evidence
that hi^^ heart in some way or other has suflered bad treat-
m; iro in early life. Depraved as is the human lieart by
nature, it cannot of itself deny the existence of a Di-
vine being, and the primary fnndamentnl principles of

< !

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KEEPING THE HEART.

J Jr.
I

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God's sovereignty and man's accountability. ISacli men
mcty not be awaro of tho cause, and may refer tbeir free
til dldng and advanced opinions to their superior reason
and judgment, but the causr 3 lies deeper. The moral sense
has been injured, and Jiitollef^ual and moral blindness is
the result.

A greater than man has ^;aid, — " Not that which goeth
into the mouth 'lelibth the man, but that which cometh
out of the mouth — tho^e defiie the man." The sinful at-
tractions of the world would not be so dangerous, were
there not elements of evil in the human heart correspond-
ing to the evil that is without. " The w^orks of the iiesh
are thccc —adultery, fornication, uncleanness, laseivious-
ness, idolatry unbelief, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath,
strife, seditions, heresies, cnvyings, murders, drunkenness,
revellings, and such like, of wliicli I told you before, that
they whic]i do s-"'ch things shali not inlieritthe kingdom of
God." If a man takes fire into his bosom, he must expect
to be burned — if he sows tares in his Hold, ho cannot gather
corn — if he sows to the flesh he must of the flesh reap cor-
ruption. Men are not to be regenerated by anything
short of God's holy spirit. Tiie disease is deep-seated, and
the cure must be radical. It is not by any mere outward
p,mendmcnts or social reforms that men arp to be restored
to purity and perfecticii. These nre good in their place,
but they do not reach far enough or deep enough. Let
the heart once be brought under the inliaence of Gospel
truth, and tlien by the ossistanco of God's grace, let it be
kept witli all diligence, and llnis shall tlie streams of our
outward nfc be pure and refreshing, and existence here be
but the portico to a sinless life beyond the gra\e.

THE GOSPEL OFEEE.

" And the spirit and the bride say come. And let him that heareth
say come. And let hira th.->t is athirst, come. And whosoever will let
him take che water of life freely," — Revelation, xxii, v. 17.

The last words of the Bible, contain one of the freest
offers of salvation anywhere recorded by the pen of inppira-
tion. In order that men if unsaved may be left without
excuse, the beloved apostle reiterates the gospel call, in
language that cannot he mistaken. The cry of the Bible
from beginning to end is "Come," Ho, every one that
that thirsteth, come ye to the waters. " Cume unto mo all
ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you
rest. If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink."
No qualification ^s demanded — no merit — no compensa-
tion—nothing that can possibly prevent the poorest sin-
ner accepting salvation. All that is demanded is simple
■^ illingness to receive as a gift the gracious offer.

Under the figure of water, gospel blessings are frequent-
ly represented la the word of God. And without deter-
mining minutely, what part of the scheme of redemptiou

ir^- —

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li' »

THE GOSPEL OFFER.

is here most appropriately set forth, we cannot err, if we
regard the language, as inclutlmgall that the sinner needs ; —
the atonement of Christ, including justification and par-
don, and the influences of the spirit, which complete the
work of sanctification. Water cleanses, refreshes and
quenches thirst, and so the water of life cleanses the soul
from sin, and fits for the companionship of heaven. It
refreshes and strengthens the newly awakened soul for the
arduous duties of the present, and satisfies its most ardent
longings tliroughoiit eternity. This water quenches thirst,
not once, but forever. Said Christ to the woman of
Samaria, as she gave him to drink of the water of Jacob's
well: — "Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst
again, but whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall
give him shall never thirst, but the water that I shall give
him, shall be in him, a well of water, springing up into
everlasting life." Man's condition in 'his world is such as
to make the offer of the text m.ost iicceptable. He is like
the weary pilgrim in the desert, exposed to the scorching
heat of the sun, and destitute of water to refresh his
languid energies. Tlie agony of thirst is rendered all the
more unbearable, by '-'jason of tha many disappointments
he meets with in his search after water. What seems in
the distance a sparkling stream, proves in reality, nothing
but the burning sand. Sad is the condition of humanity
apart from CoA. How many are fainting and ready to
perish, seeking to satisfy the wants of the soul apart from
the fountain of all good, and hewing out to themselves
cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water ? They
have drank of many a polluted stream of carnal pleasure,
to quench the guilty passions of the soul, but still the lever
rages and the fire consumes the vitals. To such we bring
glad tidings. A fountain is near. The waters are flowing

THa, v;C3PEL OFFER.

fast and free, and they are available for all. No case is

too desiderate. None so faint and weary but the water
will revive them. *'Tlic spirit and the bride say come."

Notice the comprehensiveness and cordiality of the gos-
pel offer of salvation. •' Whosoever will, let him take of
the water of life freely." There is no restriction. Jew
and Gentile, Ethiopian and Asiatic, Hindoo and African,
bond and free, all are included. Such was the intention
of God, in sending Christ into the world to die. It was
not an after thought of the Almighty, to extend the bles-
sings of salvation beyond the Jev/ish nation. From the
very first conception of redemption, the atonement was
designed for the world. The Jews did not seem to under-
stand, and in their cxclusiveness did not desire to under-
stand this truth. And yet in the very earliest promises of
a Saviour made to the patriarchs, it was distinctly implied
that the effects of Christ's sufferings and death, were to
reach the remotest portions of the earth. " In thee, said
God to Abraham shall all families of the earth be blessed."
Says the Psalmist, " Men shall be blessed in him — all
nations shall call him blessed." The universality of the
offer of salvation was the theme of prophet after prophet
until the coming of the Messiah, who dropping the lan-
guage of figure and metaphor, distinctly declared that he
came to save the lost without any distinction of race or
color. Says Isaiah : " I will bring thy seed from the east
and gather thee from the west : I will say to the north,
give up : and to the south, keep not back : bring thy sons
from afar, and thy daughters from the ends of the earth."
Says i '^rist • "I say unto you, that many shall come from
the east and the west, and shall sit down with Abraham,
and Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven." And in

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THE GOSPEL OFFER.

this book of Eevelation, where the inspired penman de-
scribes the congregation of the redeemed in heaven he tells
us, that he beheld " and lo, a great multitude, which no
man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and
people and tongues, stood before thethione and before the
kmb."

The simplicity of the plan of salvation adapts it to all
men. It is not intended for any class or caste. Different
departments ci human knowledge, demand different quali-
ties of mind, and all have not the same facility in grasping
the higher trutlis. A special trainiug is demanded and a
certain amount of culture, before the higher problems of
philosophy can be understood. But the gospel offer is
plain, — suited to the humblest capacity and the dullest
apprehension. We do not say that every mind can grasp
the mysteries of the atonement. Never, indeed, in this
world can the highest powers of sanctified genius, compre-
hend all those wondrous truths, that centre in the person
and dep^h of Christ. But as to the terras on which par-
don may be secured, there need be no difficulty. It is
more a question of will than of knowledge. It matters
not how weak the faith, how cold the love, or how un-
worthy the life, are you willing to drink of the water of
life ? It is not whosoever can, but whosoever ivilL God
gives the power where there is the will, hovever imperfect
the character and faltering the step. The text does not
say — every child of Israel, or every godly proselyte, or
every upright, blameless man, or every one who sincerely
repents — but whosoever ihirsts. It presupposes nothing
beyond a sense of need, a consciousness of misery, and a
glad acceptance of full and free forgiveness.

The curte of sin and the effects of the fall are noi con-
fined to aii> one latitude or any one people. With far

THE GOSPEL OFFEB.

greater rapidity than Asiatic cholera or the Eastern plague
spreads from continent to continent, has sin poisoned our
globe, until now, no single race is free from guilt. Some

nations may be more enlightened than others, and further
advanced in civilisation, but all alike need salvation. No
amount of intellectual culture, or external graces, can take
the place of atoning blood. The door of entrance into
heaven is the same for the beggar and the prince, for the
learned and unlearned. The Christian religion has long
ago proved its universal adaptation to every condition of
existence, Its greatest victories have been witnessed in
heathen lands. Under the simple, but earnest preaching
of the gospel, the stoutest hearts have been made to
tremble and the most stolid natures to weep. The same
truths which fall lifeless and impotent upon cultivated
audiences, produce the most intense awakening and ex-
citement in the hearts of savages. It seems as if the
elegancies and refinements of modern society were insuper-
able barriers to the spread of saving truth in Christian
lands. The pride of the human heart revolts against a
salvation so free and so effective, that the vilest of men
can share its blessings.

Notice again what is required, in order to a hearty
acceptance of the gospel offer. There must be a thirsting
for the water of life. Those invited to drink, are those
who thirst. '* Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the
waters, and he that hath no money : Come ye buy and eat :
Yea, come, buy wine and milk without money, and with-
out price." All men are not conscious of their need, nor
anxious to have the fiery passions which sin has kindled
in their souls allayed, A largo number feel uneasy, un-
happy and unsatiflfieds but scarcely know the real cause.

v .'.•■

THE GOSPEL OFFER.

A very large amount of the discontent that prevails among

men, arises from the absence of God's spirit in the soul.

Men, who so far as external comforts are concerned, should

be the happiest of mortals, are constantly repining at
God's providence. Some little misfortune in business, or
petty disappointment in life, shadows their entire existence
and embitters their life. These are the men whom the
world calls prosperous — whoso bank account is heavy —
whose credit is almost inexhaustible, — who are daily ad-
ding to their real estate in houses and lands, and know
not how best to invest their capital. And yet they are
miserable beyond conception. Eich, poor men, their gold
and treasures are a cankerworm in their souls and a curse
to their families. They blame their fellowmen and tl^
deceitful world for their disquietude and unrest, while the
cause is in themselves. They have been endeavoring to
feed their souls ux)on husks, to satisfy thoir spiritual na-
tures with investments in stocks and bonds, and thus
having sown the wind they reap the whirlwind. They are
attempting to quench their thirst, by that which can only
increase it, for no man ever yet satisfied his soul vatli
created good. It is in mercy that God oftentimes reduces
such millionaires to beggary — dashes the cup of pleasure
from their lips, and leaves them amid the wreck and deso-
lation of their earthly idols, to serious reflection, and
anxious solicitude for that living water which alone can
cool the sinners parched lips and quench his deathless
thirst.

-.'

ii»

There are others who in some measure feel their need
of tluB living water, but refuse it on the condition offered.
They are laborhig under the delusion of Simon tlio
Boroerer, who imagined that the gift of God could l)e pur-

■it' >l

THE QOSPLL OFFER.

chased with money. Measuring the Almighty by their
own natural selfishnesn they cannot understand the offer
of free grace. In gross ignorance of their poverty and
wretchedness, and the absolute necessity, that salvation if
provided at all, must be without money and without price,
they come to the Almighty, holding in their hand, what
they imagine is some small equivalent for the boon bestow-
ed. How foolish such conduct ! When life and death are
in the balance, men do not quibble about the means of
deliverance. If a man is dying of thirst in the desert he
will not reject the cup of water provided by some pitying
friend. Drink he will, whatever be the channel of com-
munication, whether gratuitous or otherwise. If the
debt has been cancelled and the prison doors thrown open,
does it detract from the freedom, that some generous heart
has come to your aid and refuses any recompence but the
gratitude which such an act demands ? If the sovereign
has been pleased to exercise undeserved and unexpected
clemency, and has revoked the death warrant, does it ren-
der less valuable the life that has been spared, that you
have not been able to prove your innocence ? When the
vessel is beating against the rocks and her timbers parting
with the strain of ocean's fary, is the life boat, that comes
bounding over the waves to your rescue, a less grateful
sight, because it is manned by strong hands and sympathiz-
ing hearts, who refuse compensation for their heroic dar-
ing ? No, assuredly not. In such extremities, men easily
subdue their pride and greedily scir- the mean^ provided
for their safety. And if a man really feels that his safety
in time and eternity depends upon the finished sacrifice of
Calvary, he will not hesitate to fall in with God's appoint-
ment. There will be no dictating of terms ; no unwilling-
ness to drink, because the water is provided free. The

"' ti

THE OOSPEL OFFER.

1 s

Rl:

feeling of utter lostness apart from diviue aid, will compel
him to cry for mercy and gladly accept of pardon.

Tliose to whom the offer is made, have felt their personal
inability to do anything meritorioiis in the sight of God.
They not only feel their need of living water, but are grate-
ful to be saved on any terms. The gospel offer seems
exactly suited to their case. Human sources of relief they
have found unavailing. The streams of earth soon dry up ;
the gourd withers in a night ; the most promising blos-
soms and richest clusters of fruit, wither and die, when the
hand is outstretched to grasp them. Earthly hopes and
supports are easily undermined. All is perishing but the
eternal promises and unfailing love of a covenant-keeping
God. Their language is that of the Psalmist: " As the
Hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul
after thee, O God. My soul tbirsteth for thee. My
flesh longeth for thee, in a dry and thirsty land where no
water is." They can say in a nobler sense than the Poet
meant when he wrote :

" Thank Heaven, the crisis
The clanger is past,
And the lingering illness

Is over at last ;
And the fever called • living,'

Is conquered at last.
The moaning and groaning,
The sighing and Pobl>ing,
Are quieted now,
With that horrible throbbing
At heart : — Ah, that horrible,
Horrible throbbing !

And ! of all tortures

That torture the worst
Has abated — the terrible

Torture of thirst,
For the naphthaline river
Of Passion accurst :
I have drunk of a 2vater
That quenches all thirst.^'

THE GOSPLL OFFER.

t.,J'

The sincerity of the offer is proved by the form of the
invitation. " The spirit and the bride say come. And
let him that heareth say come." Christ in, and by his
Holy Spirit — the church as visibly organised, and the in-
dividual believer, — all unite in saying Come.

Christ himself by his word and spirit, invites men to
drink of the water of life. He did so when in the flesh.
His great mission was to convince men of their need of
cleansing and spiritual life. On the last, the great day of
the feast, he stood and cried : '* If any man thirst, let him
come unto me, and drink. He that believeth on me, out
of his belly shall flow rivers of living water." Saint Paul
referring to the marvellous provision of the Israelites in
the desert, when water flowed from the rock, speaks of
Christ as the fountain of living water : " They all drank
the same spiritual drink, for they drank of that spiritual
rock that followed them: and that Eock was Christ." And
just as really as when in mortal form, he graciously con-
descended to pour balm and consolation into wounded and
weary souls, does he now call upon sinners to accept the
rich provisions of his grace. Tremendous interests are at
stake, when the Son of God thus strives with men.

•r

" See in the Savioxir's dyinR blood,
Life, health and bliss abundant flow ;
'Tis only this dear sacred flood
Can ease thy pain and heal thy woe."

Tha church also says come. If the spirit reprosents
Christ, the bride must signify the church. Under this
figure, Christ and his church are often set forth in scripture.
They are one in feelings and desire. When the bride-
groom calls, the bride responds. The great end for which
the church has been estabhshed on the earth, is to open

THE GOSPEL OFFER.

wide her doors and stretcli forth her arms to tlio guiltiest
of men. The modern idea ofaclmrch is very differ* u l.
It is a gathering of the rich and refined, to hsten once a

week to poHshed ethical discourses and the choicest music,
with no sympathy for the wandering sheep outside the
fold. But a living church takes as its motto Christ's own
words, when beginning his public ministry : " The spirit
of the Lord is upon mc, because lie hath anointed me to
preach the gospel to the poor, he hath sent me to heal the
broken hearted, to preach deliverance to the captive, and
recovering of sight to the blind." Only in so far as we
follow apostolic methods can we expect apostolic success.
Christian churches are to devise measures whereby the
gospel may be brought within hearing of the masses. In-
stead of waiting until men come within reach of the gospel,
we are to go forth and plant the standard of the cross in
the centre of Satan's kingdom, and avail ourselves of every
opening to possess the world for Christ. Keep-
ing pace with commerce and civilisation, as they press
their conquests into the remotest wilds of heathenism, tho
church is to sound forth her proclamation of restoration
and recovery, and offer the living water to the perishing
millionc of our race.

Finally, individual believers are to say come. This
duty does not belong to the church alone, through her
accredited officers, but is incumbent upon every soul that
has embraced the Saviour. Those good people who are
continually studying the prophecies and siuging hymns
that foretell millennial glory, but never teach in the Sab-
bath School, never visit the destitute or dying, and never
speak words of encouragement or warning to the erring,
have entirely false views as to what disciplcship involves.

THE GOSPEL OFFER.

icr

es.

Every sincere church member if not sot apart by the out-
ward act of ordination, is consecrated to the service of
Christ by vohintary profession of faitli and the invisible
seal of tlic spirit. To neglect the perishing and keep

silence when immortal souls are in jeopardy, is to be
recreant to the most solemn vows, and to cast dishonour
upon that infinite love, which makes possible the offer of
salvation to guilty man.

*' In that day, says the prophet Zcchariah, — foreteUing
the blessings of Christ's advent, — there shall be a fountain
opened to the house of David, and to the inhabitants of
Jerusalem, for sin and for uucleanness." That blessed
day has now como, and it is our privilege to make free offer
of these healing waters for sin sick souls. Unlike the pool
of Bethesda, no delay is necessary. There need be no
waiting for the angel to come down and trouble the waters,
and evoke the mu'acul..us agency. Souls lacerated by sin
and covered with moral pollution, can at once wash and be
clean. It is ever accessible and near. No pilgrimages are
demanded. It needs only, that hke Hagar, our eyes be
opened to see the fountain in the wilderness, in order that
we may drink and live. The fountain is full and overflow-
ing. Unlike brooks and rivulets that are dependent upon
mountain rills, and are liable to unceasing change — now a
torrent and again a slender stream, — this fountain is
perfMinial, never failing, inexhaustible. In Christ all full-
ness dwells. He is the same yesterday, to-day and for-
ever. This fountain, visibly opened, — when the Roman
soldier pierced the side of the dying Saviour, is as
efficacious now as it was eighteen hundred years ago.
" The spirit and the bride say come. And let him that
heareth, say come. And let him that is athirst, come."

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., 4" >■

•Q* <

'7^

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Sciences
Coiporation

TS WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY 14580

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^9)

<^'■

THE GOSPEL OFFER.

I! ■''

" Let the glad tidings circle round the world, and borne
along the waters, and wafted by the winds, through the
gates of great cities, and athwart wide continents, and into
tiie hamlets of the hills and the lone cabins of the wilder-
ness ; let it ring out in every chamber as an angel's voice,
and startle every heart as an alarm-cry from eternity" —
"Whosoever will, lot him take the water of life freely."

tie
to

ir-

THE NATURE OF FAITH.

" If theyhear not Moses and the Trophets, neither will they be per-
suaded, thouifh one roae from the dead."— -liiike, xvi, v. 31.

The grand i ; liUes of tlie spirit world, are as yet per-
plexing mystericd fo C ■'. uv,ma.a intellect. Speculation in
her reckless flight, ma^ at times enter within the veil, and
speak of the glories or miseries of a future state, hut at
best, lier language is uncertain, and only serves to show
the comparatively narrow sphere allotted for the exercise
of the human mind, and the sublime realities that lie be-
yond its grasp. Doubtless with not less truth than beauty
it has been said tiiat " eye huth not seen, nor ear heard,
neither have entered into the heart of man, the things
which God hath prepared for them that love hira." The
beatific vision of saints in glory must indeed bo sublime
in its character, as well as transforming in its influence.
" it doth not yet appear what we shall be : but we know
that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him ; for
we shall see him as he is."

For wise purposes however, God has cast an im-
penetrable veil, ahke over the enjoyments oi heaven and

THE NATURE OF FAITH.

the raiserio^ of bell. Nevertheless, sufiicient is presented

symbolically, of the exercises and occupations of the re-
deemed, to quicken our aspirations that we may share
them. And whilst mere glimpses are given us of the
place of woe, and but faint descriptions of the torments
of the lost, these glimpses are shaded in such fiery colours
and these scattered delineations couched in such revolting
terms, as to appall the stoutest heart. Sentences like
these : " the lake of lire," '• the Avine of the wrath of God,"
*• a lake of lire burning with brimstone — everlasting punish-
ment," and " outer darkness," v/ero surely penned by in-
spiration, for higher purposes thnn mere rhetorical embel-
lishment. They doubtless are intended to indicate the
fearful doom, that awaits unnconvertcd and impenitent
souls in that land of dark despair, of which the Poet has
truly said :

" Were tliero ono ray of hope in hell
Tho damned would hold u jubilee."

Th«2 context presents us with a vivid picture of the agonies
of an awakened conscience. It is apart from our present
purpose to enquire, whether the narrative of which our
text forms the conclusion, is wholly parabolic or partly
real history. Still less do we attempt an explanation of
what these torments are, that form the portion of the lost.
Were there no other hell, than perpetual exclusion from
the presence and fellowship of God, this were in itself
sufficient. The parable tells us of a certain rich man, who
was clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumi)tuously
every day. llich in this world's goods, he was in utter
bankruptcy so far as regards the treasures at God's right
Land, — a stranger to renewing grace, and destitute of all
concern for the better interests of his soul. Secured
probably against the vicissitudes of commercial life, his

THE NATURE OF FAITH.

wealth was no security against the approach of the King
of Terrors, for •* the lich man also" — like the poor despised
beggar, — "died and was buried." Dust returns to dust,
and the scene changes from human experience to the world
of spu-its. ** He died and was buried." How fortunate for
such men if this were all — if death were annihilation of
both soul and body! Not so. " In hell he lifted up his
eyes, being in torment." There in the distance he sees
Abraham, and Lazarus in his bosom, and begs for a drop
of water to cool his parched tongue. Small though the
request appears, it is denied him. Abraham tells him of a
great fixed gulf that prevents all intercourse between the
inhabitants of these separate worlds, and that there can bo
no sympathy between heaven and hell. The poor lost
soul, now fully sehsible of his doom, casts an anxious eye
towards his five remaining brethren, and beseeches
Abraham to send Lazarus, that he may testify unto them,
lost they also should come to this place of torment. Some
would have us see in this anxious request, the dawnings of
penitential sorrow fur his past prolligate life, and sincere
regret for his unbelief. But the entreaty originates in an
entirely diflcrent frame of mind. In it we see the cardinal
sin of every unbeliever — " a desire to justify self and ac-
cuse the Almighty," — a palliating of his own wilful blind-
ness, by casting the blame of his non-conversion, upon the
imperfect means made use of by the spirit. It 19 just as
if he had said — " If in my lifctiino I had been sufficiently
warned of t lie fatal issue of my rash and reckless unbelief ; —
if the Almighty had given me clearer and more convincing
evidences of the great doctrines of Christianity ; if he had
sent a special ambassador from heaven or hell, to testify
of the awful punishment that awaits unforgiven souls, I
should never have come hither." And this is still the

THE NATURK OF KAITII.

langnapo of many impenitent souls, to wliom the reply of
Abraham is as pertinent now, as it was to the rich man
in hell. The ordinary means of grace aro sufficient for

conversion. The truths of revelation are as powerful now
to produce conviction, as tliey were in patriarchal and
apostolic times, and if men will not be saved by God's ap-
pointed method, there is nothing left for them, but a fear-
ful looking for of judgment. •' If one went unto tbem/rowi
the dead they would repent," says the rich man. " No,"
replies Abraham, though one should rise from tbo dead,
they should not oven be persuaded, far less repent." " If
they hear not Moses and the Prophets, neither will they
be persuaded, though one rose from the dead."

Although these words were primarily intended for
unbelieving Jews, they are ajiplicable to incredulous forma-
lists of every age. The most dangerous form of infidelity
that prevails, is that which entrenches itself behind a good-
ly morality, and oftentimes wears the form, wbilc denying
the spirit of Christianity. It professes to bo guided by
reason and open to conviction, and casts the blame of
men's ignorance and unbelief upon the Almighty, while
presumptuously demanding supernatural manifestations, to
prove the veracity of scripture. Against all such arrogant,
insincere and God-dishonouring assumptions, we affirm
the inl^)otency of miracles to produce saving faith. The
scriptures contain sufiicient evidence, to convince any
reasonable man of their divine character, — the motives
presented to close with the gospel olfer are eminently con-
clusive, and the ordinary means of grace, accompanied by
the operations of God's holy spirit adequate for conversion,
without miraculous agency. This will appear, when we
consider, the nature and origin of faith. In its nature a

THE NATTTRE OF FAITH,

irm

inv
Ivcs
Ion-

Ion,

he a

moral act, including the afTcctionH and the will as well as

tho intellect; — in its origin, the gift of God, and not the

creation of man. Tho testimony of ancient and modern
thnes ahso proves, that miracles have never produced savmg
faith.

The very mention of the word '* faith" suggests its
meanhig. It hardly admits of a lo;;ical definition. Be-
lief or faith raust have an ohject, and the grounds of our
belief wc call evidence. ]^ut instead of faith being based
upon reason, as many think, faith is antecedent to reason.
Faith is in fact the primary condition of reason, and not
reason the ultimate ground of belief. Reason has a limit
beyond which it cannot pass. Hence the original grounds
of our reason, cannot rest vpnn rcasnti, but upon certain in-
tuitive beliefs or trusts inseparable from our very being.
For our present purpose, it is suHlcient to define faith, as
implicit trust in ('hrist as a personal Saviour, accompanied
with an unqualifiod acceptance of revelation. Saving faith
is therefore much more than a mere general belief in tho
holy scriptures ; — an historical faith if we may so designate
it, which judges of the word of God as that of any other
literary production, that comes supported by similar evi-
dence of its genuineness and authenticity. This kind of
faith is little more than more assent of the understanding,
apart from any exercise of the affections, and as such may
be possessed by unregenerate men as well as true believers.
It is also to be distinguished from that belief in iuspiration
which extends not only to historical truthfulness, but ac-
cepts the doctrines therein set forth as substantially true,
and recognises them intcUectuaUii, as adapted to man's lost
condition. A man may understand the plan of salvation
with considerable clearness, and be able to show the liar-

THE NATURE OP FAITH.

mony of its different parts, and reconcile seeming dis-
crepancies, while knowing nothing experimentally of the
power of divine truth over his heart and conscience. Of

such a faith does the Apostle James speak, when he says :
•• Thou hcHevest that there is one God — thou doest well ;
the devils also behove and tremble." There is a transitory
faith also, which consists in such a persuasion of divine
truth, as produces for the time heartfelt conviction.
There are many souls who are powerfully impressed under
the preaching of the gospel, and seem almost persuaded to
be Christians. They apparently realise their need of the
blood of atonement and union with a living redeemer, but
subsequently they fall away to perdition. Such a faith
proceeds from mere superficial excitement, and not from a
mind enlightened by the spirit of all truth. Saving faith
includes all that is of value in these various forms of be-
lief and a great doal more. It is called " saving faith," in-
asmuch as it dehvers us from present condemnation and
future punishment. •' We are not of them, says Paul,
who draw back unto perdition, but of them that believe to
the saving of the soul." It is called "justifying faith," be-
cause our sins however numerous are pardoned ; — wo are
regarded as righteous on the grounds of that atonement
which Christ has made for his people, and as a conse-
quence enjoy present peace of conscience, and joy in the
Holy Ghost. And it is called ** living faith," because it is
an operative power in the Christian, producing the fruits
of genuine repentance, in opposition to that dead faith
which exercises no influence over the life and cannot save.

This saving faith has moreover certain characteristics,
by which it may at once be distinguished from all spurious
beliefs. It produces immediate conviction of the truths of

THE NATURE OP FAITH.

)nse-
tlie
it is

ruits
aith
ave.

the gospel — a practical, heartfelt persuasion of their
supreme authority and importance. So it is described in
Hebrews as " the substance of things hoped — the evidence
of things not seen ;" in other words, the confidence of
things hoped for, and the conviction of things not seen.
The objects of faith are to a great extent invisible. They
lie beyond the present. Hence Christians are said to " walk
byjaith, and not by siglit ;" they are citizens of the new
Jerusalem, having their conversation above, and looking
thence for their final rest and reward. A man possessed
of saving faith does not stop to reason out the supernatural
truths of revelation. No man ever was converted by the
reasoning powers, apart from the workings of God's si)irit.
The greatest intellects the world has ever seen ; — men who
have penetrated the secret abysses of nature — weighed the
atoms of matter beneath and measured the sparkling worlds
above ; — who have ruled the empire of thought and unveil-
ed the mysteries of man's mental constitution, — have all
confessed their utter inability to grasp tbe truths of scrip-
ture, by unassisted human reason. Can the finite grasp
the infinite ? Can the frail creature of a day, comprehend
the plans and purposes of him, whose duration is eternity,
or trace the many links in that wondrous chain, that holds
fast a fallen world to the eternal throne ?

A second characteristic of saving faith, is its having
Christ for its object as set forth in the gospel, and a relying
upon him alone for salvation to the exclusion of all per-
sonal merit. To say that faith has Christ for its object,
means a great deal more than a simple acknowledgement
of the existence of such a divine being. A man may be-
lieve in an historical Christ, who lived and died nineteen
hundred years ago, and whose words and actions have

\Sf

TIIK NATURK OF FAITH.

been left on record for our inHtruction and imitation, with-
out knowing anytliiii^ of that poaco and joy, that flowH

from saving faith. A simple recognition of God as our
creator and preserver — as the unceasing guanlinn of our
lives and the great architect of this glorious world, is not
saving faith. Such a holief is common to humanity.
Apart from the cross of Calvary, God is revealed to sinners
as a consuming fire. AVhen Paul said to the awakened
jailor at Philipi, •' Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and
thou shalt be saved," he pointed him to a personal saviour,
whose blood had been shed for personal sins. The en-
quiry of the awakened sinner •• What must I do to bo
saved" — proves the nature of the faith, "Believe;" — rest
upon — appropriate to your own case, this one great fact,
that Christ came into the world to seek and save sinners.
No other faith can save — no other faith can justify the
guilty soul. Tbis has been the ground of believing hopo
in all ages of the world. There never has been any other
method of salvation provided — the way of salvation re-
mains unchangeably the same. Finally, saving faith not
only recognises Christ as the only hope of a fallen world,
but it relies upon liim, to the i\cclusion of all personal
merit. It not only believes that — •' this is a faithful say-
ing and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came
into the world to save sinners," but it adds, *• of whom I
am chief." It appropriates him for the varied necessities
of the individual soul — rests upon him, as " the rock of
ages" — feeds upon him as the bread of life — reposes in
him, as its covenant-keeping God.

Such a faith is very different from that hope in the mercy
of God, which is so prevalent in our day, and which ignores
the declaration of scripture, that satisfaction for iiu must

THE NATURE OF FAITU.

bo made, before the sinner can bo justified. Those who
speak thus, exalt the mercy ot God at the expense of hia
justice — rob tlie almifjhty of ono of the mont glorious and
inflexible of his attributes, and undermine the foundations
of his moral government.

A third characteristic of saving faith, and the last we
can mention, is that it invariably jn-odiices ffenuinc rjf'fctii
upon the heart and life, making its possessor an earnest
practical christian, one who is " not slothful in business,
but fervent in spirit, serving the Lord." He who has the
love of God shed abroad in his heart cannot bo inactive.
His self denial and labor in the field of christian enterprise,
are the natural result of his union to Christ, and the
spontaneous outburst of the renewed nature. The great
aim of his life is to glorify God — to live not unto himself,
but unto him that died for him and rose again. Supremo
devotion to God'd service, is the grand characteristic of his
life

If such is the nature of saving faith, need wo add,
that it is the gift of God and not the creation of man.
How can the blind man open his eyes to behold the light
of day ? How can the deaf man hear the sounds of music ?
How can the dead body rise to life again ? Not less im-
possible is it for tiio sinner dead in trespasses and sins, to
so much as begin to exercise faith without the aid of a
power, foreign to his own nature. •' By grace are yo
saved through faith, and that not of yourselves, it is the gift
of God." To produce this faith, requires the same power,
that raised up Jesus Christ from the dead. ** That yo may
know the exceeding greatness of his power to us-ward who
believe, according to the workings of his mighty power,
which he wrought in Christ, when he raised him from the

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THE NATURE OF FAITH.

dead." How the spirit operates upon the soul producing
Having faith, is beyond the compass of human knowledge.
Like the bhnd man whoso siglit was miraculously restored,
those who are subj ects of renewing grace can only say : — • * One
thing we know, that whereas wo were blind, now we see."
In many cases the spirit acts by a fearful convulsion of the
entire moral nature, like the hurricane blast of the tornado,
which tears up by the roots the giant oak and desolates
the forest. At other times it acts in a gentle manner, by
imperceptibly and silently, enabling men to grasp the
truth in accordance with their rational natures. In times
of revival, the spirit often acts in the first mentioned man-
ner, causing instantaneous belief in the truth and a com-
plete renovation of heart and soul. But most generally it
is by the preaching of the word, quickening into active
exercise the heaven imparted gift of faith. But in what-
ever way the spirit acts, whether in the thunderings and
lightnings of Sinai, or in the still small voice that comes in
loving accents to the sinner, and points him to the gush-
ing stream that flows from Calvary — the agent is the same.

After all that has been said, I can still imagine the
objection, that a miraculous exhibition of divine power
would at least wonderfully aid and strengthen faith, if not
indeed produce conversion. The feeling is, that if some
inhabitant of the spirit world, would but come into the
midst of this congregation, bringing evidence in his own tor-
mented frame, of that awful place of suffering;, repentance
would be swift and certain. So thought the rich man in
hell, but very different was the opinion of Abraham. ** If
they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be
persuaded, though one rose from the dead."

Let it be taken for granted, that you are sincere in
your belief that miracles would produce conversion, it is

THE NATURE OF FAITH.

worthy of remark that miracles wore never intended to
effect this end, else they would assuredly have heen con-
tinued to the present day. The grand design of such

supernatural manifestations, apart from the relief of suf-
fering, was •' to open mens minds to an intellectual re-
ception of the truth" and establish the divinity of Christ
and the divine origin of Christianity. Miracles if wrought
frequently would soon loose all their force ; — if wrought in-
frequently, they would only produce momentary impres-
sions. Are we not constant witnesses of miracles ? Tho
regular return of the seasons — the rising and setting of
the sun — the majestic march of tho hosts of heaven
and tho wonderful harmony and order that characterise the
multiform evolutions of nature, are perpetual miracles de-
manding the homage and adoration of all intelligent
creatures, and yet how little gratitude do they awake !
Startling events again, which only occur at great intervals
of time, produce but a passing effect, and leave men un-
changed in heart and conduct. They may cause a brief
halt amid the ceaseless round of business and pleasure,
and inspire to good resolutions, but so soon as the prodigy
disappears, the man falls back upon his former sins. It is
indeed unreasonable to expect that souls who have sat
under the preaching of the gospel for years impenitent and
obdurate, would be led to repentance, even if the Son of
God should again appear in human form.

But why need we argue the question ? Human nature
is tho same now as in patriarchal and apostolic days.
What then is the fact with regard to the Israelities ? They
were constant spectators of astonishing miracles ; — seas
parted in twain — waters turned into blood and flinty rocks
giving forth streams of sparkling water. And yet after

THE NATURE OF FAITH.

I' .

If
If }i

all, they died in unbelief and came short of the promised
rest. And what of the Jews who lived in the time of
Christ? They saw and touched the incarnate God — wit-
nessed his miracles and listened to his discourses, and yet
remained sceptical of his person and his mission. He
spake J^s never man spake, he healed the sick, raised the
dead, ruled the winds and waves, and finally burst asunder
the bands of death, — and yet ail such exhibitions of
omnipotence, failed to convince them of his divinity or pro-
duce repentance. Their language was : " What sign
bhowest thou us, that we may see and believe ; — by what
authority doest thou these things."

While the ostensible ground of much of our modern
infidelity is the want of satisfactory evidence, the real
cause is the innate depravity of the human heart, and its
abhorrence of the pure precepts of the gospel. The great
practical lesson of the text is the folly and unreasonable-
ness of unbelief, and its certain punishment. If the Jews
nineteen centuries ago were inexcusable, surely with the
additional light and fuller revelation which we now enjoy,
thosa who reject salvation cannot be lightlv judged. l'
the Old Testament scriptures contained suflicient origin of
their divine origin, the character of God, his moral gov-
ernment, man's lost condition by nature, and hope of sal-
vation through Christ, that no Jew could plead ignorance,
how much less can we who live in gospel times ? In pro-
portion to our manifold privileges and the accumulated
evidence of eighteen centuries, will be our greater punish-
ment. For " if our gospel is hid, it is hid to them that
are lost: — In whom the God of this world hath blinded
the minds of them which believe not, lest the image of the
glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should
shine unto them."

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THE VOICE OF SPRING.

"My beloved spake and ."aid unto me, rise up my love, my fair
one, and come awa)-. For lo, the winter is past, the rain is 'over and
pne ; the flowers ajipear on the earth ; the time of the singing of birda
18 come, and the voice of the turtle is heard m the land ; the fig tree
putteth forth hor ;,'reen tigs, and the vines with the tender grape give a
good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one. and come away."

Song of Songs, 2nd— y. 10- 13.

The heavens ileclarcthe glory of God, says the Psalmist,
and the firmament shcwetlillis handy-work — day unto day
uttercth speech, and night unto night sheweth knowledge.
Nature throughout hor vast domain teaclics us grand moral
and Hjoiritual truths, second only to those contained within
the Bible. The flower by the \s ay-side— the twinkling stars
in the heavens— the returning seasons, are all intended to
lead our minds upward to the grout Creator, and bring us
into fellowship with heaven.

" There ia a lesson in each flower —
A story iu each stream and bower ;
On every herb o'er which wo tread,
Are written words, wliicli rightly read,
Will lead us from earth's frrt;4raut sod,
To hope, ar i boliuess, and God."

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THE VOICE OF SPRING,

The frequent allusions throughout the word of God to
the beauties of nature, and especially to the different
periods of the year, have often been remarked upon by
Christian writers. Apart altogether, from the grand
spiritual truths which are constantly set before us in these
pictures, they far surpass in beauty of description, in vivid-
ness of representation, and unerring truthfulness, the
choicest efforts of uninspired genius. Regarded merely in
a literary point of view, what poet, cither of ancient or
modern times, has, in so short a compass, and in language
so striking and yet so simple, outlined the returning sweets
of spring, as that contained ni the song of Solomon.
" The winter is past — the rain is over and gone — the
flowers appear on tlie earth — the time of the singing of
birds is come, and tlie voice of the turtle is heard in the
land — the tig tree puttetli forth her green figs, and the
vines with the tender grape give a good smell." We need
not the pencil of the artist to complete the sketch. We
seem to breathe the balmy breath and flowery fragrance of
returning spring — when

" Reviving sickness lifts her languid heail,
Life flows afresh, and young-eyed health oxulta
The whole creation round."

Spring is pre-eminently a season of joy, of hope and
promise. Summer, with its fields of golden grain, and
autumn, with its varied and richly tinted foliage, have each
their peculiar glory ; but amid their loveliness, the thought
of approaching winter, v/itli all its clioorlessncss and
gloom, seems to invest them with a tinge of melancholy.
Not so with spring. We look forward to it with feelhigs of
delight; the heart throbs in sympathy with the external
world, and hope inspires to action. Nature casts off her
wintry mantle — the lakes and streamlets dash aside their

THE VOICE OF SPRING.

icy fetters ; life starts from every pore ; buds and blossoms
adorn the garden, and their fragrance perfumes tbc air.
The birds, with their notes of praise, make the air " one
universal song of rapture." The husbandman prepares to
cast his precious seed into the opening furrows, in hope of
large returns in coming days for all his toil. The ^vcarv,
heart-broken sufl'ercr seems to breathe more ireelv, and
inhale the bracing atmosphere of returning spring, and the
drooping, down-cast mourner revives, as hope spans the
opening jear with her golden rainbow, and the sun " sheds
down her kindest rays."

> 1

their

Such is something of the beautiful picture of returning
spring, as presented by Solomon. Whatever view wo
choose to take of the purpose and design of the Soiig of
Songs, it is full of comfort and instruction to all God's peo-
ple. " All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is
profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for in-
struction in righteousness, that the man of God may be
perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works." It
seems evident that the gi'cat design of tha inspired penman,
is to show the strong love entertained by Christ for his
Church. The language used cannot refer to human love,
even in its highest and purest forms ; nor can the commenda-
tions given mutually by the bride and bridegroom, in almost
every chapter, apply to any other than to Christ and believ-
ers. The whole scope and structure of the song shows that
Solomon had in view, not himself nor his Queen, but the
mystical union of Christ and His Church. Tiie bride, not
only here but in other parts of Scripture, is represented as
the church, and all the honors and blessings conferred upon
the church collectively, are the heritage of individual
believers, in so far that they are united to Christ by a living

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THE VOICE OF SPRING.

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faith. In this passage, the bride is represented as sitting
lonely and desolate, because of the absence of her Lord.
Suddenly, the well-known voice of the bridegroom strikes
her ear, and fills her mourning heart with joy. "The
voice of my beloved ; behold he cometli, leaping upon the
mountains — skipping upon the hills." With his presence
he brings words of welcome. " He tells her that he has
brought spring-time along with him," and in most endear-
ing terms, invites the disconsolate bride to forsake her lone-
liness and share with him the beauty and fragrance of re-
turning spring. " Rise up my love, my fair one, and come
away." Great encouragements are presented wby she
Bhouid respond to his call. *' For lo, the winter is past, the
rain is over and gone." There is now no hazard in travel-
ling ; the storm is past ; rivers rendered i'" issable by
•wintry rains are fordable ; all obstructions ana hindrances
are removed. But not only so, other attractions are pre-
sented. A great change has come over the face of the earth
— the spirit of God has renewed it. Spring time has set
in ; the landscape but lately bleak and barren, now rejoices
in her covering of green; the trees so recently leafless, now
begin to bud and blossom, and the llowcrs all over the earth»
in the garden and by the way-side, lift up their heads to
greet the gladdening sunbeams. '* The time of the siuging
of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the
land." Not only is it spring time, but summer is near at
hand, for ** the fig tree puttcth forth her green figs, and
the vines, with the tender grape, give a good smell."

"We may regard the language first, as addressed to
evangelical cimrches in their collective capacity.

The chur- Ich the Saviour has redeemed with his

blood, which hu nas sanctified and cleansed, in order to

THE VOICE OF SPRING.

101

present it to himself a glorious church — is now called upon
in Providence, to rise up from her long night of slumber and
work for the salvation of a dying world. This is the great
duty of the visible Church at all times — the work for which
she has been established and consecrated. But there are
seasons when special demands are made upon the Church,
for active aggressive efforts in behalf of Christ's Kingdom.
These occasions very generally succeed long winters of
moral death. Very frequently has it happened that when
least expected, and when sincere Christians have almost
despaired of change, spring time has suddenly burst upon
the world. By means of agencies secretly and silently de-
veloped through many months and many years, unlooked
for and unknown to men — does God bring to maturity the
purposes of his grace. Almost every great reformation
that has blessed humanity, nnd spread civilization and
Christianity over the world has been preceded by dark days
of ignorance — by periods of bloody persecution or religious
indifference. These are the tokens of coming spring —
prophets of better days to come — pledges of the speedy
triumphs of Christianity, ovar all opposing obstacles, when
the wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad, and the
desert rejoice and blossom as the rose.

Our own church has had her spring-times of gracious
revival, and if but faithful to her liigh vocation, may be
permitted to see still brighter days. We have much cause
for gratitude, but have we not also great reason for sorrow ?
The recent awakenings so hopeful and so fruitful in many
parts of our land have passed away, and again we mourn
the hiding of our Father's face. " Return, we beseech thee,
God of hosts: look down from heaven, and behold and
visit this vine. The vineyard which thy right hand has

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THE VOICE OF SPRING.

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planted — the branch that thou madest strong for thyself.
It is burned with fire — it is cut down — we perish at the
rebuke of thy countenance. Awake, awake, put on
strength, arm of tlie Lord, awake, as in the ancient days
in the generations of old."

But even now in the thickest darkness of the night do
we descry symptoms of the dawn of day. The flowers
beiiin to appear. Many of our churches are experiencing
glorious seasons of refreshing and singing for joy over con-
verted souls. Here and there the fruits of divine grace in
the hearts of sinners are springing up — the spirit has
breathed upon the barren soil, and the beams of divine love
have touched and melted many unfeeling souls. "The
time of the singing of birds has also come." Disconsolate
sinners and drooping Christians are now made to sing for
joy. Christ has returned and all things are changed. The
very face of Nature wears another aspect ; " for every gale
is peace and every grove is melody." The sun of righteous-
ness has risen and dispelled all gloomy fears and perplexing
doubts. Religion no longer seems a weariness. The pro-
mises of the Bible seem richer and fuller and more satisfy-
ing than ever, because the heart has been enlarged to un-
derstand their meaning, and softened to feel their power.
•♦ The voice of the turtle is heard in our land." The good
tidmgs of salvation are sown broadcast — the day spring
from on high hath visited us, and the light of the glorious
gospel now shines upon them that sit in darkness and the
valley of death. There is hope for our country — the moral
winter is past — spring is at hand, and summer soon will
follow with its fields of ripening grain. Although we have
sown in tears we shall reap in joy— although we have gone
forth weaping bearing our precious seed, we shall doubtless
return rejoicing, bringing with us our sheaves —

THE VOICE OF SPRING.

103

" For Bonis immortal no'er wore mnde,

LesH favored than the flowers,
Like them their outward lifo may fade,

And wither all their powers ;
But after Autumn follows Spring,

The Eternal Spring above,
Deaths' Winter to the soul shall bring

Heaven's harvest bloom of love*"

And not only in tliis land are there evidences of ap-
proaching spring, but all over the world arc to be fieou the
bud?' and blossoms of a wide spreading civilization and
vital Christianity. Large harvests are about to be gathered
into the heavealy garner. " The winter has been long —
the chains of mental and bodily slavery have pressed upon
the nations for thousands of years — any slight relaxation
has been only local and momentary, and has ever been suc-
ceeded by a new tightening of winter's bauds ; but now the
thaw seems to be setting in, and this time it is not a local,
but a universal thaw. The ice is breaking up in Turkey —
it is breaking up in India — it is breaking up in the distant
China — it is breaking up in the yet more distant Japan ;
everywhere, Jto the very extremities of the earth, signs are
appearing that the world's spring-time is coming at last.'-
India is open for tli(3 reception of the truth, through its
entire extent, and great success attends the preachingof the
gospel. China, the scene of war and tumult, seems fast
tending toward embracing Christianity as the governing
religion of the nation. Japan is open, not only for com-
merce, but for the richer blessings of the Gospel. Ethiopia
stretches out her bauds to God. From cast and west,
fi jm north and south, the cry reaches our ears, " Come over
and help us." Russia has cast off her serfdom — Italy is
now a free and independent power, and soon all oppressed
and stricken nations will assert their freedom and destroy
their tyrants. Everywhere we see the downfall of despotism

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101

THE VOICE OF SPRING.

li;

— the overthrow of unrighteous monarchies — and the esta-
bhshment of mental and moral freedom, the birthright of
humanity ; and soon will be heard throughout our world
the cheering tidings, "Babylon the Great is fallen, is
fallen. The kingdoms of this world are become the kuig-
doms of our Lord, and of his Christ ; and he shall reign
for ever and ever."

We may regard the language secondly as addressed to
individual believers, who have become cold and indifferent.

The very terms of the invitation denote the love exist-
ing between the parties. "My beloved," says the bride,
speaking of her Lord — " My love, my fair one." says tne
bridegroom, speaking of the bride; and in the opening
verses of the chapter, we read, "as the lily among thorns,
so is my love among the daughters ; as the apple tree
among the trees of the woods, so is my daugbter among the
sons." In the experience of all God's people, there are just
such seasons of gloom and heaviness. The winter is
severe ; the Saviour seems at a distance. Sin prevails,
and temptations abound. Although God's pcox^lc cannot
utterly fall away, they often back-slide and become indolent
and lukfi-warm in their profession. They are asleep — com-
paratively insensible to the joy's of rehgion — secure in the
possession of present blessings, without striving after
greater attainments in the Christian life. The cai-es of the
world press upon them ; the demands of the i^reseut
obscure the realities of the future, and weak faith, cold love,
languishing graces and bitter experiences are the result. It
was so with the deciples of our Lord. "What ! could ye
not watch with me an hour ? Why sleep ye ? rise and
l^ray, lest ye enter into temptation." Or it may be, that
under afflictions and bereavementSjthey have sunk into their

THE VOICE OF SPRING.

106

present bcavincss. Thcij have been allured into the wihlerness
and it seems as if they wou'd never again enjoy the smile
of God's favor. It is winter, witliout the hope or preomis
of joyous spring. To all such are the. words of the bride-
groom addressed. "Rise up my love, ray fair one, and
come away." The separation of the believer's soul from
Christ, though seemingly long, is not to be perpetual. The
master calleth. Ilise, follow tlic bridegroom; remain no
longer contented in your exile and estrangement ; leave this
valley of despair and follow that loving Saviour who so
tenderly appeals ; seek for stronger faith m the promises of
his word, which are all yea and amen. " Why art thou
cast down, 0, my soul! and wliy art thou disquieted within
me. Hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise him who is
the health of my countenance and my God."

Finally, we may regard the invitation of the text, as
addressed to such as are yet uuawakened — who have allowed
gracious seasons of revival to pass unimproved, and turned
a deaf ear to the message of salvation. To such tha
beloved comes and once more makes offer of His love in
terms most tender and attractive. " Rise up, my love, my
fair one, and come aicaij."

There are many such in evoiy congregation. "With
them the spring time has not only passed, but if they spoke
truly they might say: *' The harvest is passed, the summer
is ended, and wo are not saved." They hoped long ere
this to have cntcr( d upon a new and better experience by
giving themselves to Christ. From their earliest years
they were trained in Bible truth. They were hushed to
slumber by those sweet hymns that tell of a Saviour's love,
At the first dawn of reason, they were told in simple
language the story of redemption, and taught to bow tho

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106

THE VOICE OF SPRING.

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knee in prayer. A mother's eye eagerly followed them at
every step in opening manhood, and with lior last words
she commended them to the care of heaven. But the
grave once closed over her remains, all these earnest ex-
postulations have been forgotten, and religion treated with
contempt as unworthy of an independent mind ! Out in
the world, amid its vanities and pleasures, surrounded by
companions noted for their brilliant Avit, tlioir keen satiro
and open sneers at godliness ; in the gilded saloons of de-
bauchery and over the sparkhng wine-cup, the occasional
fltingings of an accusing conscience have been bilouced.
They hnve proved how true arc the poet's words:

" How mirtb can into folly glide,
Ami folly into sin."

And if reason at times asserts her waning supremacy,

they cannot altogether ignore the premonitions of the

future :

" There comes a reckoning when the banfiiiet's o'er,
The dreadful rockouinf,', when mon f-mile no more."

Onco more, in all earnestness wo renew tlie offer.
Surely, Oh impenitent one, you cannot resist the call of
love. God has already spoken to you in loud and signifi-
cant tones by severe providences. You have been brought
face to face with death in your own person or that of near
relations, but all has thus far been in vain. Such persist-
ent folly can have but one result. " Because I have called
and ye refused — they shall call, but I will not answer." If
not saved, what then '? There is but one alternative, salva-
tion or damnation — but one way to heaven, although there
are ten thousand roads to hell. Do not bo deceived by
imagining that although as yet unsaved, you are fur from
being lost; that although scarcely an heir of glory, you

THE VOICE OF SPRINO.

107

arc by no means a child of wrath ; that though guilty and
unpardoned, you arc not yet condemned! It is by such false
suggestions that Satan lulls nito a fatal security distressed
consciences, and stifles the thou^'ht of a Judgement I-)ay,
and makes the sinner reckless while standing on the very
brink of perdition. What saith ^ho s'ord of God ? "He
that believeth not is condemned already" — just as much as
the poor criminal, who awaits the last struggle of expiring
nature.

This may bo the last call. It is not given to every
one to die in full possession of their mental powers, or to
choose the time and manner of their departure from this
world. Your end may be fearfully sudden. A very small
derangement of the vital functions closes the eye on all
the glory of this material world. To live as ever dying
is thorcfor<) the part of true wisdom. When good Bernard
Gilpin hefrd that he had been accused to the Bishop of
London, and that there was no hope of escaping a fiery
death, he ordered his servant to provide a long garment for
him, in which he might go decently to the stake, and to
prepare it with all haste, as he knew not the hour when he
might have occasion to wear it. As soon as it was finished
he put it on, and continued doing so every day, until he waa
apprehended. So ought wo to wear from day to day our
death-bed character ; " sleeping, as it were, in our shrouds,
and goingto bed in our sepulchres." We can never thus be
taken at disadvantgo. Death, divested of all terror, will
come as a welcome messenger, and the grave be a pleasant
rest.

Oh, the blessedness of responding to the call of the
Beloved, and taking part in the re-generation of humanity!
Awaking from the stupor of spiritual sleep to newness of

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108

THE VOICE OF 8PRIN0.

If u:

life with Christ ! This is iuilood a present hcavcu. For
this immortal souls have been created. As at the call of
spring, nature throws off her icy fetters and the air be-
comes balmy and fraj,'rant, and the activities of life are
multiplied and intensified, so \vlien God's voice is heard the
Boul exults in its new-found joy. Higher and holier pur-
poses and loftier aspirations possess it. Life seems real
and its possibilities sublime. Thus actively engaged we
shall gladly welcome the second coming of the Lord, long-
ing for the day to break and the shadows to flee away.
Compared with the unfading doligJi*^s and sinless service of
the future world, human life at its best is but winter, dark,
dreary, cold and sterile. But "just beyond is the rising of
that bright immortal spring wliere the birds of heaven
sing, and which, when it has once begun, shall never be
followed by winter, nor visited by showers." We are com-
ing near tliis sweet spring of resurrection.

■M

'• I know not why our souls should doubt

Hi3 promise to appear,
When every flowcr'H ojij'ninf; eye
Looki up into the changing sky,

And seoms to murmur — Near /"

CALVAEY.

*' And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice say-
ing, Eli, EH, lamaaabachthani? That i» to say, My God. luy God,
why hast thou forsak«n ine ?"

Matthew 27th, v. 40.

In tlio presence of the sorrow- stricken mourner, we
often feel that silence is preferable to words. Our tears,
if known to be the result of genuine sympathy, are far
more valuable than the commonplace utterances of unfeel-
ing hearts. We cannot understand the conflicting passions
that possess the soul, and may but aggravate the grief wo
seek to assuage. Something of the same feeling restrains
us from attempting to explain the hidden mysteries con-
tained in the words of our text. We cannot apply to them
the rules of criticism that are in place when expounding
other passages of scripture. We are staggered by the very
language, and c. -mot with all the help at our command
unfold their significance. Not until the finite mind passes
into the immortal state, if even then, shall we be able to
estimate the tremendous cost of the world's redemption, or
understand what the Saviour felt when upon the cross he

\ '

110

CALVARY.

cried out, ** My God, my God, -why hast tiiou forsaken
me?"

A brief consideration of their import is, however, not
only allowable, but if reverentially engaged in may bo
profitable. Fc* just in so far as we have proper vi-,»'s of
the nature of Christ's sufferings upon the cross, can we
feel our indebtedness to sovereign grace. If wo have no
i'ight conception of their supernatural character and value,
we shall fail to experience those infinite supports and con-
solations, which a right apprehension of Christ's loneliness
and agony, is fitted to afford every penitent soul.

For the greater portion of the time that th e Saviour
hung upon the cross, no words escaped his lips. The
darkness that prevailed over all the land from the sixth to
the nintli hour, was but a faint emblem of the greater dark-
ness that shadowed His spirit. What he felt and suffered
durinp these hours, no one can attempt to describe. An
eternity of woe and unmitigated misery were crowded into
that brief period. A cup of wraih was drained which f;in-
ners must have drank, but for the Saviour's love. At
length, when the clouds of heaven began to part, and the
light of day to reveal itself once more, uncovering to
spectators, who crowded round the base of Calvary, the
awful tragedy, now nearly ended — the Son of man cried
out, " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me." It
was the culmination of divine despair, if we may be al-
lowed the term — a thousand-fold more piercing than the
nails that transfixed His body — that forced this bitter cry.
The clouds of the natural heavens had not only obscured
the sun, but the i^louds of divine wrath, in some way con-
cealed His father's face, and brought Him, as the Psalmist
says, to the very dust of death.

CALVARY.

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Admitting that wc cnnnot fully inulerstand all that
these words imply, hut regarding them as in some way
pointing to the felt-absence of His Heavenly Father, wo
may at once discard the rationalistic and infidel interpreta-
tions that have been attached to them. We can have little
patience with men, who declare that all these sufferings of
Christ so graphically described by the Evangelists, and
long before predicted by the prophets, had no real exist-
ence — that Christ himself was but a myth and His suffer-
ings only imaginary. If so, why they should have been
recorded by so many independent witnesses, and subse-
quently believed in by so many readers, remains as it must
remain — unexplained. Nor can we listen to those that
tell us, that it was agony of soul arising out of his rejec-
tion by men, united with the tortures of His body now sur-
passing endurance, which forced the cry ; nor that His
political plans having failed, "like some baffled revolutionist
whosc'schemes overweighted hisresources," he now repented
having suffered for so vile a race. Such statements carry
with them their ov.n refutation, to all who accept the
statements of scripture, regarding Christ's vicarious suffer-
ings. " He was wounded for our transgressions. He was
bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our jieace
was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed. It
pleased the Lord to bruise Him — He hath put Him to
grief."

TIjat Christ was indeed man having a human body
and a reasonable soul is not disputed. That He was sensi-
tive to those ills and calamities of life of which we arc
susceptible, is admitted. That pain and agony of body,
and griefs and sorrow of mind, had a depressing effect upon
His delicate organization, every Christian lielievcs and re-
gards as evidence of His humanity. Nay. in proportion

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to the tenderness of His nature, was He the more alive to
every jar and shock that appertains to our suffering race.
But we cannot account for the mysterious despondency of
the text upon the grounds of His humanity. We dare not
say that they imply nothing more than mere oppression of
spirit, under an unusual burden of mental and bodily af-
fliction, common at times to the best of men. We cannot
regard Him simply as an innocent sufferer, nor transfer to
Him those feelings of despair and depression which sadden
the soul when enfeebled by unusual pain. He was God as
"well as man. His sufferings partook of the divine as well
the human. He had depths of ]i6\y emotion and a power
of endurance, which no mere mortal can experience. We
must therefore seek for other causes than the agonies of
dissolution, or the sinking of His soul under prolonged and
exceptional mental suffering, in accounting for these
solemn words.

There are still other considerations that compel us to
regard them, as more than the exponents of mere human
woe. It does not appear from anything in His previous
conduct that the pain of dying ;liad any saddening
effect upon the Saviour's mind. Up to the last He main-
tained a composure that astonished His disciples. He
never spoke of death as casting a dark shadow over His
life, or to any appreciable extent interfering with His hap-
piness. On the contrary. He spoke of it just as Christians
should speak of death, as the gate-way to eternal life. It
is also evident from the narrative, that before He exclaimed.,
" My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me," the bit-
terness of death was already past. ISo far as the agonies
of crucifixion were concerned. He was now almost victori-
ous. In a very brief space of time he passed away, say-
ing, " Father, into thy hands I commend my spiriti"

CALVARY.

113

Indeed, the mere physical tortures of the cross, terrible
though they must have been, were neither so
acute nor so long protracted, as seem to have been
horno by malefactors ai ' martyrs in every age. Science,
in accordance with scripture now declares, that it was not
the bodily sufferings of Calvary that hastened dissolution.
As prophesied long before, Ue died of a broken heart
caused by extraordinary and supernatural grief. His death
was not the result of the cross, for in that case he would
have lived mucli longer than a few hours, under the Iniger-
ing tortures of such a mode of punishment. Nor was it
due to original foeb^eness of constitution, because as the
priest and victim of an atoning sacrifice He was per-
fect in bo'ly and mind ; nor to temporal weakness resulting
from His recent agony in the garden, because His strength
was sustained by angelic agency. "His energy of mind and
body, immediately before His death, was evinced by the
most perfect self-possession, and by loud and fervent excla-
mations. Even in this mortal struggle His mind was
neilhor paralyzed nor engrossed by His sufferings, but full of
intelligence, ])icty and love." We must seek then for another
explanation of the cause of His death — one which the
Psalmist put into the lips of the Saviour himself, when he
says : — " Iteproach hath broken my heart." The walls of
the heart gave way, and forthwith at the thrust of the Roman
spear there came out l)lood and water. The heart was
riven and ruptured by mental agony, when He suffered the
malediction of God and man. As the poet puts it :

"Tho grief that does not speak.
Whispers the o'er Iraui^ht heart, and bids it break."

It is also worthy of mention in this connection, that
although at times during the Saviour's earthly career, wo

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find Him louely and apparently forsaken, we never hear
anything approaching such language escaping His lips.
On every former occasion He had a consciousness
of His Father's approval and enjoyed precious
tokens of His favor. When wearied and worn by
the temptations and assaults of men and devils, or when
His human nature became weakened and wasted by the
fatigues of a laborious ministry, and He had recourse to
the solitude of mountain tops to enjoy communion
with heaven, He never once was dissappointed in His ex-
pectations. He returned with fresh vigor to the work of
His life, the diving beaming through the human, and the
God o'ershadowing the man. But now all is changed.
The vision of the Father vanishes ; His conscious trust in
God seems for the moment to "sink in darkness;" He
cannot see His Father's face ; He cannot grasp His
Father's hand ; all He can do is to cry out : " My God,
my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?"

Having a correct understanding of Christ's position
on the cross, wo shall be the better able to approximate the
meaning of these words. He stands before us as our
surety and substitute ; as tasting of death and enduring
all that constitutes the bitterness of death, not for personal
sins, but for the sins of otliers. As such there was laid
upon him a weight of sorrow, more than enough to over-
whelm the entire universe of intelligent beings. He fore-
saw long before the crucifixion, what were the ingredients
of this cup of woe. The hour and power of darkness
obtruded upon His consciousness, long before the scenes in
the garden of Gethsemane. As Ho had voluntarily under-
taken our redemption, and linked himself to our race. Ho
pressed forward with hurried footsteps to the accomplish-
ment of His mighty task. He had an accurate apprehen-

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115

sion of the evil of sin tliat demauded such a sacrifice. He
grieved over the sad results of man's fall from innocence,
and had, as no other being could have, a conception of the
guilt and misery that throughout eternity forms a portion
of the lost, so that He constantly carried with Him the
precursors of that woe, which culminated upon the cross,
when He cried : " My God, my God, why hast thou
forsaken me ?"

But the question may be asked, notwithstanding all
that has been advanced, was it possible that the Saviour
could be forsaken by His Father ? Wa« it a mere momen-
tary sinking of soul, or was there actual abandonment for
a time ? Sometimes the dying one misses the friend who
has for days sat by the sick-bed, and calls for him by name,
although the hand of the living grasps the hand of the
dying, and ministers to his every want. Was it so in the
present instance ? Or was the Saviour for a iime abandoned
and alone ? The narrative seems to teach clearly that
there was a hiding of his Father's face — not from Christ
as the well-beloved and eternal Son — but from Christ as
the sin-bearer and substitute of humanity. There could
never be entire, absolute obscuration of the Father's glory,
nor withdrawal of His sustaining grace. The Father was
well pleased with the Son, when He undertook the salva-
tion of men, and at every step in his work He was stimu-
lated and upheld by His approval. And now, when the
last act was near its consummation, and the purposes of
the Trinity formed in a past eternity wore about to be real-
ized, he could not possibly withdraw from him His
gracious presence. But Christ, as man's substitute — as
the redeemer of the lost — as the purchaser of pardon for the
condemned, must suffer what man must have suffered had
no such redeemer appeared. He endured for a time the

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hidings of his Father's countenance, that they might enjoy
without echi^so or shadow the beamings of His love. It was
this sense of abandonment that forced from His hps the
bitter cry. " To Him it was the consummation and con-
ecentration of all woe, beyond which there could be no
deeper anguish of soul. A naked consciousness of misery
hung in the waste darkness of the universe, and yet in do-
fiance of pain and death, of the blackness within and
around it, the Saviour calls upon the vanished God" — nor

calls in vain :

" The soul that seemed
Forsake)!, feels a present God again,
And in His Father's arms
Contented dica away."

But if for a time the Father concealed himself from
the Saviour, Christ never for a moment lost His confidence
in the love of heaven. **His spirit serenely sailed above the
clouds, and held God fast as His God. He breathes the
prayer of unwavering faith : " My God, my God, why hast
thou forsaken me ?" This is not to be interpreted as the
language of complaint and unwilUngness to suffer, but
rather of cheerful resignation, to what for the moment
seems inexplicable to human reason, if not confounding
to the incarnate God himself. " Why thi-o forsaken ? Am
I not the SSon of thy love — thy fellow from all eternity —
sharer of thy throne — thy companion and co-worker in the
framing of worlds and the re-creation of souls '. Why then»
when most of all I need thy presence and support — when
I am accounted by men deserving of death — when I am
abandoned Ly those whose presence might have cheered
and consoled m^ in this hour and power of darkness, and
when the salvation of the world and the honor of thy law
depends uxjon \u.^' power to endure and overcome — why do
I miss the shinings of thy countenance and the whispers

CALVARY.

117

of thy love ? Nevertheless, I cannot let theo go ! Thou
art still my God — my mighty God — the source of all my
strength and the pledge of victory ! Sustain my sinking
soul. When the billows of thy wrath overwhelm me, bo
near to succor ; and when death is past, receive my spirit
back again to glory."

" Father and lover of my soul,
Though darkly round thine angor rolls,
Thy sunshine smiles beneath the gloom."

The cry of despair brings relief. The forsaken one is
answered. The tempest of grief is calmed. The vacant
heart is filled. The God-man Redcsmer dies, but dying
conquers death and hell. The shadows floe away — tho
day star of hope arises upon our world — Gospel ages be-
gin their course, and millennial glory dawns.

'I
I »

There are two thoughts that rise in the mind, when
meditating upon such a subject.

1. What must be the exceeding sinfulness of sin that
demanded such a sacrifice. We can never understand
what sin is, until we stand near the cross, and endeavor to
comprehend in some measure, the cost of redemption. All
philosophical definitions fall far short of the reality. It
needs a God to reveal to us the guilt and turpitude of
wrong-doing. Sin, according to Scripture, is opposition to
God and apostacy from God — a God of spotless holiness,
unbounded benevolence and infinite grace. It is defiant
rebellion on the part of the creature, against the all-wise
and merciful benefactor of the universe, who keeps the
breath in our nostrils, bids the blood circulate in our
veins, and supphes our daily returning wants. It is the
rejection of infinite goodness, and despising of pardon and

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III

reconciliation freely offered us through the death of Christ.
It ia the voluntary choice of eternal woe and misery, It is
an infinite evil, demanding eternal retribution.

It is thus that sin appears when studied in the light
of the Eedeemer's sufferings ; and it is only such a view
of it that can produce godly sorrow and sincere repentance.
If we regard it as mere violation and infringement of
human law — as something that in a strange mysterious way
has entered our world, disturbing and marring the harmony
of the universe, and thus to be avoided on the grounds of
expediency, and in order to our securing the good opinion
of our fellow-men — we have a miserably deficient estimate
of the nature and effects of sin. If there were no God,
there would be no sin ; and if there were no Saviour, there
could be no remission of sin. Sin must be measured by
the character of the person sinned against, and the sacri-
fice demanded to make atonement possible.

2. What must be the infinite love of the God-head
that provides such a remedy and offers such a pardon.

" Oh never, never canst thou know
What then for thee the Sayiour bore ;
The pangs of that mysterious woe,
Which wrung His bosom's inmost core.
Yes, man for man perchance may brave
The horrors of the yawning grave ;
And friend for friend, or son for sire,
Undaunted and unmoved expire ;
From love, or piety, or pride ;
But who can die as Jesus died ?"

" He loved us, and gave Himself for us." The blood
of Jesus Christ, his Son, cleanseth us from all sin." We
have often read these and similar texts, but have seldom
realized their meaning. Saved us ! And why ? For the
nobility of our nature— for our goodness of heart — for the

CALVARY.

119

purity of our conduct ? Ah no. He loved us in our
shame, and misery, and disgrace. Then amid the soHtudo
of a sin-bUghted Eden, and above the angry accusations
of a guilty conscience, the promise of mercy and the hope
of forgiveness fell upon the ear of humanity :

" A Btill small voice comes o'er the wild,
Like a father consoling his fretful child ;
Which banishes bitterness, wrath and fear,
Saying, ' Man is distant, but God is near." '

This love is still as real as it was in a past eternity,
or ■when Christ hung upon the cross. Let no suspicious
thoughts be entertained concerning the perman-
ency Or genuineness of the love of God in Christ Jesus.
Its exercise depends on nothing in the creature. As it
took its rise in the sovereignty of the Godhead, it continues
to flow forth unaffected by the merits or demerits of the
creature. We have stronger grounds to rest upon
than anything we have done or through the strength of the
Most High may accomplish. "When I see the blood I
will pass over you," was the promise of Jehovah to the
Israelites, and it still forms the ground of our pardon.
Here rests the foundation of our peace. Some who hear
mo have doubtless made attainments in divine things since
conversion. Their knowledge is more accurate — their love
is stronger and more equable — their faith is clearer — their
hopes are brighter — their entire life and conversation
bears the impress of God's indwelling spirit. They are
very different from what they once were when dead in
trespasses and in sins, they seemed branded as the victims
of divine displeasure. Let such bo thankful for the change,
but never for a moment imagine that their enjoyment of
God's favor rests upon any personal merit. It is as free
and undeserved as in the day of their espousals. Nor can

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CALVARY.

anything alter his feelings. " The mountains shall depart
ftnd the hills be removed, but my kindness shall not depart
from thee, neither shall tlie covenant of my peace bo re-
moved, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee."

Are there not moments in our individual history when
we feel forsaken — when we walk in darkness and see no
light — and when the awful feeling possesses the soul that
God has cast us off ? Few saints have had much experi-
ence of divine things without such a trial. The heavens
are as brass — the clouds are so dense, that they cannot see
aught of that face that smiled upon them in other days,
or hear the voice that made existence bright and cheerful.
And they have been forsaken too, at the very
time when they needed more abundant comfort. A great
sorrow has torn their heart, and instantly they turn lor
consolation to Him who has promised: " When thou pas-
seth through the waters I will be with thee ; and through
the rivers they shall not overflow thee ; when thou walkest
through the fire thou shalt not be burned, neither shall the
flame kindle upon thee." But there is no response to
their agonising cry. The day is dark and the night is
solitary— they long for death, but it cometh not, and dig
for it, more than for hid treasures. And vet such feeliuf^s
are in themselves no sure evidence that God has forsaken
His afflicted ones. For just as in the gloom of
Gethsomane and the darkness of the cross, Christ received
tokens of His Father's presence, and finally spoiled princi-
palities and powers, so in our hours of disertion, there are
borne in upon us, whispers from the heavenly land assur-
ing us of ultimate victory.

^* NOTHING BUT LEAVES."

" ^Vhen He came to it, He foimil nothing but leaves."

Mark 11th, verse 13th.

Beauty and fruitfulness are not always associated. It
is not necessary that it should be so in every case. Certain
trees are by nature simply intended to please the eye, by
the symmetry of their form and the gracefulness of their
leaves. To others there is given not simply buds and blos-
soms, but abundant and precious fruit.

To find nothing but leaves for a succession of years on a
tree intended and capacitated to bear vahiable fruit, is dis-
appointmg and vexatious in the highest degree. For a
time we may bear uncomplainingly, in hope of fruitfulness,
but at last patience becomes exhausted, and the judgment
goes forth, "Cut it down, why cumbercth it the ground."
The barren tree is not only profitless to the owner, but posi-
tivelv hurtful to the orchard. It absorbs the nourishment
that would increase the productiveness of others, and occu-
pies space to no purpose whatever. The evil is thus not
confined to itself, but directly affects all within its range.

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NOTIIINO 13UT LEAVES.

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Josus was on his way from Bethany to Jorusaloni, nncl
was hungry. In tlic distance ho saw a fig tree well laden
with leaves, and on that account giving promise of abun-
dant fruit. As tlio lig tree usually bears fruit ni advance
of foliage, it was natural to expect fruit upon the branches.
13ut when lie came up to it, "he found nothing but leaves,"
and forthwith doomed it to perpetual barrenness. "No
man eat fruit of thee hereafter," was the hJaviour's judge-
ment.

The fig tree was very fair and inviting in the distance.
It had much that was attractive to the eye. It possessed
many of the essentials of a fig tree. But it was destitute
— of fruit, and that defect rendered all else comparatively
worthless. Its leaves were deceitful. It promised more
tlian it realized to the traveller. It mocked his expecta-
tions and falsified his hopes.

There are in every Church fruit-bearing and barren trees.
Wo belong to the one class or the other. No amount of
plausible profession can atone for lack of solid effort and
actual results. No charficter, however fair and reputable
in the esthnation of men, can secure the favour of God
apart from earnest consecrated zeal ; and no christian,
however humble his sphere of action and insignificant his
talents, should rest satisfied with attempting and accom-
plishing nothing for the good of man and the glory of God.
Tbat life is worse than wasted, that moves in the groove
of selfishness, and gives back to the Almighty at last nothing
more than it brought into existence. Better far be num-
bered with the irrational brute creation, than to possess a
soul of vast endowments and capabilities that lie dormant
and unused.

We regard the man who lives in a community, and does

NOTUINU BUT LEAVES.

128

iiolliing to benefit his fellowmon, as deserving of tlio sever-
est censure. For tlio man who leans upon his wife an
cliihlrcn for support, and refuses to work and provide for
their comfort, wo have no words of indignation strong
cnougli. All through society this law of productiveness is
recognized. And in Christ's kingdom upon earth, the
same law holds good. The blessings of civilization aiul
christian culture and gospel ordinances arc intended to lit
men to accomplish results for the good of humanity, that
no other inllucnccs can produce. And if, when all these
havo been enjoyed, wo give back "nothing but leaves," the
method of God's government with men must of necessity
change. The withdrawal of present blessings and the in-
liiotion of merited punishment, make up the sad sequel to
a wasted hl'e. lie that walks amid the golden candlesticks
takes cognizance of dead churches, and takes away from
them their privileges. ^Vitness his deahngs with the seven
churches of Asia, and with the Jewish nation, which remains
to this day a fearful monument of God's inflexible holiness
and justice. *' ^Vhat could have been done more to my
vineyard, that I havo not done in it ? Wherefore, when 1
looked that it should bring forth grapes, brought it forth
wild grapes. And now, go to ; I will tell you what I will
do to my vineyard: I will takeaway the hedge thereof, and
it shall be eaten up : and break down the wall thereof, and
it shall be trodden down : and I will lay it waste : it shall
not be pruned or digged: but there shall come up briers
and thorns : I will also command the clouds that they rain
no rain upon it." When everything has been done with-
out avail to produce fruitfulness, nothing remains but the
destruction of the tree. Every sinner is not only his own
destroyer, but is a curse to others by his example. He
hinders rather than furthers the salvation of immortal

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NOTHING BUT LEAVES.

souls. Instead of rebuking wickedness, ho becomes the
instrument of spreading death and disease. Nothing so
mihtates against the extension of Christ's kingdom as tho
inconsistencies and carelessness of gospel hearers and
Christian churches.

1 1 \

\l ..

It is strong language, perhaps, to use regarding Chris-
tian men and women that they have nothing but leaves to
offer the Master. But is it not true of many hearers of the
gospel ? They are busy about many things, but those
matters of transcendent and overwhelming importance, con-
nected with another state of being, have, so far, occupied
but little of their time and thought. All honor to Chris-
tian merchants and operatives who never forget, amid the
manifold details of business, the paramount claims of re-
ligion, and who after the physical and mental toil of the
week, spend the Lord's day in active labor for the good of
others. But what shall I say of those who find leisure
moments for everything but religion ? Who are eager and
restless and successful in commercial speculations, and
enter with a keenness and fervor into the political conflicts
and secular agitations of the times, but remain uninterested
onlookers in the greater struggle that is ever going on be-
tween the powers of darkness and the Prince of peace ! Ah !
there is a time coming when men will give these matters
their proper value, and sadly regret that they lost heaven,
in their hot pursuit of earth and its transient and worthless
excitements.

" Nothing but leaves ; the Spirit grieves

Over a wasted life ;
Sin committed while conscience slept,
l*romises made, but never kept.

Idle words for earnest deeds —
Nothing but leaves !

NOTHING BUT LEAVES.

125

And Bhall we meet the Master so,

Beaiiiif,' our v/ithered leaves ?
The Saviour looks for perfect fruit —
We stand before Him ashamed and mute

Waiting that word He breathes,—
Nothing but leaves I

How many young Christians, also, once covered with
the leaves of profession, have failed in realizing to them-
selves or others, the expectations raised of future useful-
ness ? They promised much, and possibly intended much.
•'Laden with the foliage on which the dewdrops of hope
were glistening," as they stood upon the threshold of life,
they attracted the eyes of onlookers and weie the pride of
aged believers, who welcomed them as co-workers in the
service of the Master. Months elapsed, and still nothing
but leaves ! abundance of fair speech and good counsel —
much pretended zeal and holy unction, but nothing beyond
to prove the reality of the Divi-^e life within the soul. Like
men whose pretended capital consists of bonds and de-
bentures unrealised and unmarketable, and who yield at
the first panic that sweeps across the stock exchange, so
are such flaming enthusiasts in the church. As an old
writer says, such professors of religion may be compared to
sheet iron stoves heated by shavings. When there is a
little reviving in the church, they all at once flame up and
become exceedingly warm and zealous. But the shavings
are soon burned out, and then the heat goes down as
quickly as it went up. They are never seen in the prayer
meeting or Sabbath School until there is another excite-
ment. If it were not that such people have souls of their
own to be saved, they would hardly be worth taking into
the church ; they act as clogs and burdens and hinder the
free harmonious working of the membership, without re-
ceiving much benefit from the means of grace. For with-
out constant advancement in religious feehug and indi-

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NOTHING BUT LEAVES.

vidiial effort, no young Christian can maintain his stand-
ing. Backsliding is sure to follow if not actual apostacy
from the faith. *' The cross loses its charm — prayer its
j)ower — the Word of God its attractiveness, and the very
name of Jesus its hold. Church memhership becomes a
hateful mask, which its owner is ashamed to wear, and
yet afraid to fling away."

In proportion also to the prominence of a man's pro-
fession, society has a right to expect abundant fruit in
holy deeds. A man who makes no such profession is none
the less guilty ; — nay, he is doubly guilty in the sight of
God, and can hope for no consideration because he refuses
to enroll himself as a christian disciple. But it is none
the less true, that the man who voluntarily assumes the
name of Christ and does nothing beyond the mere assump-
tion of the name to prove the reality of his faith, is charge-
able with the basest treachery to the cause he has espoused.
He is like the soldier who takes the oath and wears the
regimentals and draws the pay of the nation, but disre-
gards his marching orders, and lags behind when the
army advances to the front. Cowardice — unmanliness —
dishonesty and the absence of all that constitutes honor
and fidelity to professed principles are involved in such
conduct.

Wo do not I fear realise, how much individual happi-
ness ifc) lost by indifference to the welfare of others and the
prosp >rity of Christ's cause on earth. No man can really
help his neighbor, without in the best of senses helping
himself. No man can work for God without increasing
his interest in heaven and addhig to his spiritual posses-
sions on earth. The man that does nothing for the good
of others, is vastly poorer than the man who fecatters

}

NOTHING BUT LEAVES.

127

profusely and expends liis energies in seeking the salva-
tion of others. A year marked by no single honest effort
for God, is terrible to look back upon. For a man to feel
that out of all the three hundred and sixty- five days, not one
has been characterised by honest endeavor to convert a
soul or make the world less sad and sinful, is the most
fearful of all retrospects conceivable on this side the place
of woo. To stand and cooly survey harvests of immortal
souls that wait for the siclde, and not garner a single
sheaf, indicates a degree of dcadncss towards the concerns
of eternity almost incredible in a professing christian ! To
walk round the battle-field and listen calmly and unmoved
to the moans and shrieks of the mangled and the dying, is
far less criminal than to look upon torn and bleeding
humanity without bringing the good Physician, and apply-
ing the balm which is in Gilead to wounded and sin- sick
souls.

Brethren, the evangelization of our world is not a
matter of uncertainty. But it is to be brought about, not
by mere preaching, but by the God-like lives of church
members. It was not the eloquence of the Apostles or
their successors that achieved such marvellous results in
early days, but the consistent lives and humble but in-
tensely earnest efforts, put forth by one and all for the
salvation of souls. The life of Christ and his teaching
were thus duplicated and increased a thousand fold. The
world stood amazed at such an exhibition of self-sacrifice.
Every new convert became a missionary, in the noblest
sense of the word, and went forth to speak to dying men
the words of eternal life. And only thus is society at the
present day to be transformed, and the world regenerated.
Do vou teii me that vou have no leisure for such work ;
that while it was all very well for the tent makers of the

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NOTHING BUT LEAVES.

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early church who Hved in comparative poverty and were
not driven as m on are in this busy age to go about preach-
ing the gospel, it is simply impossible to discharge such
obligations and maintain an honest name ? Ah, my
hearers, where there is the desire, there will be found the
leisure. Tiie spare moments of our time — the mere frag-
ments at the close of each day, that cannot possibly be
devoted to business, would, if carefully husbanded, ac-
complish Y'ouders beyond conception. By a wise economy
of the leisure moments of existence, the busiest men can
gain for themselves an immortality of honor and blessed-
ness at God's right hand.

Conscious of sad neglect in watching for souls, it is
not yet too late to bring forth fruit to God's glory. "This
battle is lost said one of his Marshals to Napoleon, but
there is time before sundown to fight another and wm it."
As the Poet says :

" Men may rise on steppinjj stones
Of their dead selves to higher thinj^'s."

Let no one be discouraged because of the small con-
tributions he malcf ^ to the grand aggregate of christian
service. The Ma, ut will not despise the smallest offering.
The fruit may neither be so perfect, nor liaug in such
luscious clusters as we could wish, but if there be a willing
mind, it is accepted according to that a man hath, and
not according to that he hath not. Very soon comes the
harvest and the final recompence, when those who have
sown in tears shall reap in joy. Conscious of many im-
perfections and failures and with mingled feelings of hope
and fear, our language then shall be :

" Lord of the labourers, thy feet I pain,

Lord of the harvest, and my spirit t^ricves.

That I am burdened, not so nuich with ,L(raiii

As with a he.i /iness of heart and brain ;
Master, behold iiiy sheaves.

NOTHING BUT LEAVES,'

129

Full well I know, I haye more tares than wheat,

Brambles and flowers, dry sticks and withered leaves ;

Wherefore I blush and weep, and at thy feet

I kneel down reverently and repeat,
' Master, behold my sheaves.

Yet well I know thy patient love perceives.
Not what I did Init what I strove to do ;
And thouKli the full ripe ears be sadly few
Thou wilt accept my sheaves."

God scrutinizes the conduct of gospel bearers and
threatens barren professors -^itli merited judgment.
" What is the vine tree more than any tree, or than a
branch which is among the trees of the forest ?" Behold,
when it was whole it was meet for no work : how much
less shall it be meet for any work, when the fire hath de-
voured it, and it is burned?" Hearing of the gospel
carries with it dread responsibility. In proportion to our
privileges and advantages we shall be judged. The work-
ing power of the church is not confined exclusively to
office-bearers. Who ever heard of a healthy tree that
merely budded and blossomed ? And what kind of chris-
tian is he that lives only for himself — full of leaves and
promises of future results, but producing no fruit what-
ever for the masters use ? In proportion as there is piety
in the soul, is there activity in the life. If the branches
are united to the vine, they will inevitably produce h uit,
and if christians are united to Christ, they cannot help
being living exponents of Christianity.

" I always pay my debts" said a prosperous man of
the world, on hearing that a prominent merchant had
suspended payment. A friend standing near gently placed
a hand on his arm, saying, " I know a debt that you owe.
I know of one who lent you the fine house you live in, the
money you have in the bank, all the riches by which you are

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NOTHING BUT LEAVES.

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surrounded, and which you sail your own. More than
this, he gave you health and friends. How much have
you 'ever paid him ? You are like a merchant who pays
all :^ns little debts and lets the great ones go, and then
boasts " I pay all my debt ." How many who hear me
belong to this class ? They have enjoyed for a long term
of years the common bounties of providence and the better
blessmgs of his grace but have given littlo in return.
Professiag to have given themselves to the Lord, they
grudge the smallest gift .^nu dccHne the simplest service.

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THE GOSPEL HIDDEN.

"But if our gospel be hid, it is hid to thorn that arelost : In whom
the God of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe
not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image
of God, should shine unto them. "

2nd Corinthians, iv, vs. 3. 4

r-'

There is a very intimate connection between our text
and the concluding verse of the preceding chapter. In-
deed, without some knowledge of Paul's reasoning, we fail
to see the beauty and aptness of his words. The whole of
the third chapter is taken up, with a contrast between the
Old and New Testament dispensations. The one is spoken
of as the letter, the other as the spirit ; the one is a minis-
tration of death, the other of life ; the one of condemna-
tion, the other of pardon. The Old Testament had not-
withstanding a certain glory, but not to l)e compared with
the glory that excelleth. Unlike Moses who put a veil
over his face, so that the Jews 30uld not c. early understand
the truths hidden under tyre and cersmony, we, the
preachers of Christianity, use great plajjness of speech.
Wo conceal nothing from the humblest understanding. In
these and other respects the Christian di.spensation far ex-
cels the Jewish. •* For we all with open face beholding as

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in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same
image from glory to glory, even as by the spirit of the
Lord."

Nevertheless with all the advantages of the New over
the Old Testament dispensation, to sincere and teachable
minds, there are still to be found many men whoso eyes
are blinded, so that they cannot receive the truth. The
veil shall yet be taken away from the heart of the Jew,
when he shall turn to the Lord, but from some men who
live in Christian lands, the veil of unbelief shall continue
until repentance is too late. The fault is not in the doctrines
of Christianity which so far as necessary to make the way
of salvation known, are simple, nor in the mode of their pre-
sentation, for we neither "walk in craftiness, nor handle
the Word of God deceitfully, but by manifestation of the
truth, commend ourselves to every man's cousciencc in the
sight of God." The fault lies in the natural prejudice of
the human heart against divine things. llcuce says the
apostle in the text : " If our gospel be hid, it is hid to
them that are lost : In whom the God of this world hath
blinded the minds of thorn which believe not, lest the light
of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God
should shine unto them."

If, •' .
in >

It is evidently implied :

1. That the gospel need not be hid from any man
who hears it. It is level to the meanest comprehension.
If men remain ignorant of its principles, such ignorance
must be voluntary. We can easily understand how diffi-
cult it might be for a Jew to overcome all at once the preju-
dices of birth and education, and accept tlie truths of
Chrstianity. Nor would it b^ matter for wonder if in

THE GOSPEL HIDDEN.

188

heathen lands, missionaries should complain of dullness of
perception in their congregations. But in Chris<-ian lands,
where the gospel is so frequently and so faithfully preached,
that any man should be so indifferent or ignorant of tho
solemn concerns of eternity, is matter for amazement to
the very angels.

It is ncverthless notorious that such is tho case. In
the most highly educated congregations many arc found,
who exhibit a most woful ignorance of tho gospel. Men
otherwise acute, shrewd, quick to analyze and weigh mat-
ters of importance in the common transac'tions of life, ex-
hibit tho most marvellous confusion of ideas regarding
matters of faith, that should be level to the comprehension
of a child. For if we take as our text-book of Christianity
the Bible, and not theological or polemical treatises, which
in many cases darken rather then explain simple truths,
we cannot fail, in the exercise, of the faculties God has
given us, to understand heavens message to fallen man.
For what is the sum of the gospel ? What is the grand
central fact that runs through every page of inspiration
from Genesis to Eevelation,but the glorious announcement
that Christ Jesus has come to succor fallen humanity ; that
there is pardon for the guilty and forgiveness for the wrong-
doer, and that no obstacle but the sinner's own obstinacy
need prevent perfect reconciliation between God and man.

That such should be the simplicity and directness of
the Bible, wo should expect from the character of its author
and the design of its promulgator. Acts of Parliament
and legal documents arc often so voluminous and intricate,
that to common minds they are absolutely beyond compre-
hension. But not so with the gospel. If, indeed, matters
of laith were so involved and complicated as to demand a hfc-

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THE GOSPEL HIDDEN.

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iimo of tlic profoimclGst study to enable a man to grasp
them, but few of our race could benefit by the revelation
0^ mercy made to fallen man. We should be little better
than those who lived before the Bible was given, dimly
groping our way by the unsteady light of human reason, to
the knowledge of truth far beyond the limits of unassisted
human thought. But it is far otherwise. The PhiHppian
jailor in a moment grasped the method of salvation and
experienced its power. And so likewise did the dying thief,
T-'ho in the assured hope of paradise, passed away from the
cross to the crown !

But the term " hidden" means more than mere intel-
lectual ignorance of the gospel. It means that utter in-
ditl'erence towards divine things, which characterises many
Lominal Christians. It is blindness, but tvil/ul blindyigss.
'J'he sun of righteousness shines, but men refuse to avail
tiiomselves of his light. The Lord Jesus Christ, by his
spirit and his providence, pleads with men and endeavors
1 awaken an interest in unseen realities, but men mock
{'ud despise his calls. Every endeavor to convince of sin
i^;oms futile. They stifle warnings and resist appeals.
A L'om such the gospel is indeed hidden — voluntarily hidden.
' This is the condemnation that li2;ht has come into the
', jrld, and men love darkness rather than light because
1 eir deeds are evil."

2. Those to whom the gospel is thus " Jndden'' are
i : id to be " lost.'" In Scripture the word is used in a
A ; riety of senses.

All men are by nature lost. They lie under the burden
' God's wrath, from which they cannot free themselves.
J', this sense the word is used when Christ says: " The
fun of man is come to seek that which wes lost."

THE GOSPEL HIDDEN.

1:5

Again, all meu who clio unconverted nre most certainly
lost. There can bo no hope of any human being who coji-
tinues in a dying hour impenitent and unbelieving. The
Bible promises no purgatory, where men are to bo pui -
fied, nor universal restoration for abandoned and defiant
profligates. However terrible it is to preach it, we must
declare without reservation, the Bible doctrine of perdition.

In still another sense the word "lost" may be usetl,
as referriug to those who are finally abandoned by the Holy
Spirit. That he strives with all meu more or less through
life is true. But there is a point beyond which ho ceases
to exert a saving influence. Then the heart becomes
harder and harder under his strivings, until divino things
make no impression. •* If thou liadst known, said Christ
to guilty Jerusalem, even thou, at least in this thy day, the
things that belong to thy peace, but now they are hid from
thine eyes."

In neither of these senses would wo understand the
word, as brought before us in the text. The "lost" arc
those who are certain to perish, if they persist in theii*
present Godless career — who are even now in a state nf
perdition, and must perish if they repent not. They aro
yet within the reach of mercy if they accept the offer, but
should they recklessly continue in unbelief, and despise the
threatenings of coming judgement which Scripture dt-
clares, their everlasting destruction is inevitable.

The guilt of unbelief then lies entirely with men them-
selves. God is in no way responsible for the sinners rniji.
The issue ia plainly set before men — Believe and live — Dis-
believe and die I No reason can be given why the sinner
who wilfuDy courts condemnation should be spared. D01-3

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any ono pload the original depravity of human nature as
the cuuso of unbelief? Wo answer, God's grace, if earn-
estly sought, is able effectually to remove the evil tenden-
cies of the ilesh, just as the blood of Christ is able to wash
away both original and actual sin. Docs any ono
plead as an excuse for not accepting the free oil'isr of tho
gospel the diiliculties and mysteries connected with redemp-
tion ? We reply, that whatever diflicultics there may be in
Scripture, concerning matters that lie beyond human com-
prehension, there are no possible hindrances nor mysteries
appertaining to tlio method of salvation. It is all summed
up in these words : *' Boliovo in tho Lord Jesus Christ, and
thou shalt bo saved." Does any man further object, that
faith is the gift of God, just as salvation is ? True, we
answer, but faith is never denied those who ask it. "Lord
increase our faith," was a prayer marvellously answered in
the case of the apostles. But why attempt to meet objec-
tions, which in many cases have no honest existence in the
sinners mind ? There is not a man within my hearing,
however degraded or debased, that dare cast tho blamo of
bis unbelief upon the Almighty ! Certainly he will not at
the bar of judgement.

3. Tho apostle assigns a reason why men do not see
tho excellence and suitability of Tho gospel. " The god of
this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe
not."

The god of this world is Satan. He is so called be-
cause of the vast numbers of the human family over whom
he rules, and the abject obedience which they render him.
Elsewhere he is called the " Prince of the world," and tho
"Prince of the power cf tho air." That men are often
unconsciously, as it were, blinded by Satan, makes their

THE OOflPEL IIIDnEN.

187

gnilt none tbo loss orirainal. Many who deny altogether
hiBexistencG are led captive by him.

As iho god of this world, liis mctliodH are as varied as
lire mens circumstances and tempcramentH. In his
armory there are weapons adapted to every kind of war-
fare. If the man is covetous of human honor, Satan
shows him the kingdoms of the world, saying, " All this
power will I give thee, and the glory of them : If thou
therefore wilt worship me, all shall be thine." If the
man's heart ik set upon riches and worldly possessions, he
points out tho many avenues that are open to hypocrisy
and dishonesty for the accumulation of wealth. If his
conception of real life is pleasure, revelry, riot and drunk-
ness, he paints in golden colors the haunts of vice and
chamhers of harlotry, saying like the wise but foolish
king of Israel: "There is nothing Letter for man tlian
that he should eat and drink, and delight his sense ." And
to the young maiden just entering upon fashionable life ho
offers gay apparrcl and gaudy jewelry — the gilded saloons
and giddy mazes of the dance, as the climax of human
bliss. Nor is it only by appeals to the animal and sensual
parts of man's existence that Satan maintains his empire
in the world. lie rules over the man of science and liter-
ature as powerfully as over the untutored barbarian. Ho
endeavors to flatter the pride of intellect by exalting reason
above God's truth, and step by step paves the way to open
atheism and infidelity. No man can measure the devices
of Satan — the appliances and methods by which he drags
at his chariot wheels, millions of the human family.

Unbelief is here stated to be the result of spiritual
blindness, and spiritual blindness is the work of Satan.

188

THE GOSPEL JhIDDEN.

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There are eyes that cannot distinguish one color from an-
other. The different hues of the rainbow appear to their
vision all blended into one. There are other eyes that
by disease or accident can only distinguish light from dark-
ness. And there are others still, who grope for ever in
midnight gloom, never having seen the beauteous landscape
or the starry heavens. So in the world of unbelievers
there are all classes. It takes but little to injure the eye-
ball, and it takes but little to dim or effectively ruin our
spiritual vision. A very small object held before the eye
will exclude the glory a d brightness of the sun. And so

to the cprnal eye, but little is required to distort gospel
truth and lessen the brilliance of its rays. Jasus Christ
himself, the brightness of the father's glory and the ex-
press image of his person ; the adored of angels and the
delight of heaven, thus becomes in human estimation, a
root out of a dry ground, having neither form nor comeli-
ness, and no beauty that he should be desired or admired.
Thus bUnded, says the apostle, *♦ the light of the glorious
gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, cannot shine
into them." Whore there is light there is life, intelligence
and purity ; where there is light Satan's wiles are discov-
ered. Wherever the light of the glory of Christ enters,
joy and peace follow — the shadows of sin disappear and
doubts and difficulties speedily vanish.

lii . i;

What do you ask is the light of the glorious gospel of
Christ ? It is just Christ himself. He is by pre-eminence
the light of the world — the source of all light, dwelling in
light which is inaccessible and full of glory. Just as fbo
minor stars dwindle into very insignificance, when con-
trasted with the sun, and pale their brightness before his
surpassing glory, so is it with all the lesser luminaries of

THE GOSPEL HIDDEN.

139

earth, before the great sun of the moral world. E\en
John the Baptist, bright and shining hght though he was,
shrunk from comparison with the light of the world,
John's light was derived from his master — Jesus shines in-
dependent of all other beams. John was merely a reflector
— a mirror through which the light of the sun of righ-
teousness was beheld. And so it must ever be with the
noblest exhibitions of sanctified genius. They owe all their
brightness to the great central light of the world.

It is not mere figure of speech when wo say that
Christ is the light of the world. Before his advent the
earth was shrouded in midnight darkness. All the light
then existing was like the scattered rays that precede the
rising of the sun. Men groped about in search of truth,
but were lost amid uncertainties. The light reflected by
the flickering lamp of human reason was far too faint and
fitful to solve the question of man's relation to his God.
Human wisdom so far from comprehending the mystery of
the God-head, acknowledged the utter hopelessness of the
search after the Infinite and the Eternal.

In one of the galleries on the continent of Europe
there is a picture by one of the most celebrated masters,
representing the birth of Christ. It is a night scene. The
hack-ground is in total darkness. The Christ child lies in
its cradle surrounded by the shepherds and the angels, and
all the light that is reflected upon the grouj) emanates from
the infant Saviour. Those near are in the light, while
those standmg at a distance are in darkness. As a work
of art the painting is unrivalled and stands foremost as the
creation of genius. But our admiration of it as such is lost
sight of, in considering the grander truth it is intended to
symbolize. It tells us that from Christ proceeds all the

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light that we possess, and that the advent and incarnation
of the Son of man was the dawn of hope to our ruined
world. In Christ we have revealed to us the character of
God — the method of justification, the way of escape from
condemnation. He has brought life and immortality to
light by the gospel, and revealed the glory that lies beyond
the darkness of the tomb.

Christ then, as the hght of the world, is the only
source of spiritual life. Where the sun never or but rarely
shines, there is barrenness and decay ; vegetation ceases
and animal life dies ; flowers no longer lift their heads
heavenward and birds no longer sing. And so it is where the
gospel of Christ is unknown or despised. There moral and
spiritual death hold unquestioned supremacy. Men talk
of the cultivation and refinement to be found in lands
where Christianity has never found a foot-hold, but no
such spot an earth has as yet been found. Go where you
will the wide wide world over, and apart from the rehgion
of the Bible, intellectual life is stagnant, the affections pol-
luted, the passions depraved and the soul debased. The
light that is in men is darkness. Such is the testimony of
history and experience. But let once the light of the
glorious gospel shine m upon the soul, and what a change
takes place ! There is life and energy, where formerly
there was death and apathy. There is order and beauty
instead of chaos and confusion. There are upward and
Godward tendencies, instead of earthly desires and material
delights.

To hide the Cross of Calvary from the gaze of men
has been the aim of Satan, since our first parents fell in
Eden. •' In the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall
be opened, and ye shall be as Gods, knowing good from

THE GOSPEL HIDDEN.

141

evil." If a man will only believe this, it is enough. Satan
has no objections to men becoming anything but Christians ;
studying anything but Christianity ; engaging in any ser-
vice but the service of Christ. They may roam through
creation, marking its beauties and admiring its won-
ders, provided they see no Creator in it. They may study
the Bible, with the aid of grammar and lexicon, provided
they discover no Saviour.

Are there any here who are thus lost ? — whose minds
Satan has blinded that they should not perceive the truth?
To such I appeal. Beware of tampering with conscience.
Beware of rejecting tne Spirit. Beware of casting the
blame of your unbelief and final destruction upon the
Almighty; If our gospel is hid, it is hid to them that vol-
untarily are lost — who hterally choose damnation in pre-
ference to everlasting life. Oh ! that we could arouse such
to a sense of their danger. A man wiio has swallowed an
overdose of morphine or opium, may perchance be brought
back to life, if measures are promptly used. But after a
certain period, effort is useless. And so, careless uncon-
verted souls up to a certain point, may be rescued from
eternal misery. But there is a limit to the exercise of
sovereign grace. God's spirit shall not always strive with
man.

One of the many agencies that Satan employs at the
present day to blind men's eyes to the truth and harden
their heart, is inordinate love of money. To that large
class, who will not stoop to baser sins, there is nothing so
well calculated tolessen their interest inrehgionand under-
mine their hopes of heaven: A man may for a time main-
tain the outward forms of religion and church attendance,
while mammon receives the real homage of his heart. But

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gradually the world so entirely fills his mind, that eternity

is hidden out of sight. His hopes are bounded by the

present. His heart becomes petrified — he lives an athies-
tic life, and dies a wretched, hopeless death.

I speak to some who think they know their Bibles
well, and yet they are as far from the saving knowledge of
the truth as the Hindoo idolater. They have sat for a long
term of years under a stated ministry, but have never yet
found the substance of the gospel. To them the pearl of
great price is still hidden, and the secret of abiding joy
unknown. Why is it so ? Multitudes of souls within a far
shorter period have found peace in believing, and are now
rejoicing in the pardon of sin: Should not this fact cause
uneasiness ? Should it not lead to searching introspection?
Is it wise thus to live, when, if the "Word of God speaks
truly, mere nominal acceptance of Christianity as a creed,
avails nothing more then the uumoaning worship of an
idol. The conduct of the man who professes belief in the
Bible, but refuses to take as his Saviour, the Christ that it
offers, is inexplicable. His faith is vain, and his pr^'tended
reverence for the character and work of Christ a mockery.
The casket that contains the diamond may be beautiful,
but in the jewel lies the preciousness. And so, it is only
in so far as we spiritually discern the Scriptures, and have
Jesus as our Lord disclosed to us by the Holy Spirit, tha^
we profit by its perusal. " The Word of God to those that
are blind and un searching is a hidden word ; but to those
who seek its treasures, it is a word of hope and power and
love ; taken by its inward substance, by its spirit of power,
into our living, positive, personal experience, we go on our
way rejoicing, till God speaks to us no longer darkly,
through signs and symbols, but face to face."

THE GOSPEL HIDDEN.

143

All important as is the truth in the matter of our sal-
vation, we are absolutely dependent upon the Holy Spirit.
We cannot change our hearts — we cannot open our minds
to receive and understand the truth. We cannot begin,

far less carry on or perfect, the work of sanctification in our
souls, without the aid of a higher power. Since man's fa.l
from holiness no amount of truth can of itself convert or
sanctify the soul: It may be approved by the judgment —
received by the intellect and sanctioned by the conscience,
and yet the carnal nature of man refuses to recognize its
authority.

In thus speaking, we do noi undervalue Scripture.
Like the lofty summit of Mount Blanc, which rises far
above all surrounding heights, so the word of God in its
moral purity, in its sublime teachings, in its present con-
solations and future glorious hopes, towers far above all
other systems of morality the world has ever seen, and
reveals to man redemptive truths, beyond the ken of science
and philosophy. Yet withal, apart from the omnipotent
power of God's spirit, it possesses no power to save the
soul. Nor do we undervalue pulpit power — clearness of
presentation — simphcity of illustration, and stirring elo-
quence. Here, if anywhere, when men speak on the most
momentous themes that can interest humanity, is their
need of the highest gifts and the most exalted genius. Yet
these are of themselves worthless. Oftentimes the highest
order of talent united to the most devoted piety, produces
no result. The case of the early apostles is a striking
illustration of this fact. With all their knowledge and in-
spiration they labored to little purpose before the outpour-
ing of the spirit. But when the Day of Pentecost came,
their words became so many balls of fire — " like hammers

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breaking in pieces hearts of stone — rushing upon their con-
gregations with a force too overwhelming to be called elo-
quence, and winning conquest, too rapid and complete to be
called persuasion."

This was the great end for which the Holy Ghost came
into the world. Not simply to comfort afflicted saints, but
to be a divine illuminator and teaclier. " When the Spirit
of truth is come, says Christ, he will guide you into all
truth — he will reprove the world of sin — and of righteous-
ness and of judgment." It is the work of the Spirit
to conform us to Christ's image — to mould our thoughts,
volitions and actions into harmony with the require-
ments of heaven, and fit us for seeing God. Even when
aided by the Spirit it is but a partial holiness w^e attain
on earth, but it is the fore-runner of absolute purity in
the paradise above.

Blessed be God, it does not require vast mental en-
dowment, nor subtle powers of analysis and penetration, to
become a child of God. " Not many wise men after the
flesh, not many mighty, not many noble are called. God
hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the
wise ; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world
to confound the mighty ; and base things of the world,
and things which are despised, hath God chosen ; yea, and
things which are not, to bring to nought things that
are. I thank thee, Father, Lord of heaven and earth,
because thou hast hid these things from the wise and pru-
dent and hast revealed them unto babes."

SENTIMENTAL EELIGION.

"Ami tliero followed him rx ^Tcat company of peojjle, and of women,
which also bewailed and lamented him. iJut Jesus turnini; unto them,
said, Daughters of .Jerusalem, weej) not for me, but weep for yourselves
and for your children."- -liuke 23rd, v. 27-28.

A Iiuman being led forth to execution, wlictlier martyr
or malefactor, is an event well fitted to call forth sympathy.
In the one case, our sense of justice revolts at the cruelty
and blood-thirstiness, that condemns an innocent man to
a shameful and painful death. In the other, we feel con-
cerned for the wretched being, who is soon to stand, it may
be unprepared, before his judge. lu either case there is
room for solemn reflection, as there is cause for honest
grief and burning tears.

The earthly life of the Redeemer was now drn,vv'nig to
a close. The chapter from which our text is taken, nar-
rates the final steps taken by the lloman Governor and the
Jews preparatory to his crucifixion. No charge was brought
against him and no crime substantiated, wherefore ho
should die. The injustice of the whole proceedings so
shocked the Roman judge, that he endeavored to procure
his acquittal, or at least a mitigation of the death penalty.
All however proved futile, against the repeated outcries of
the mob ; "Away with him, away with him— crucify him.

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SENTIMENTAL RELIGION.

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crucify him." Weak, vascillating, and intimidatciT by the
remorscly cry for vcugcancc, Pilate confirmed the sentence
of crucifixion, and delivered Jesus to their will. And now
the mournful cavalcade winds its way to Calvary. Simon
the Cyrenian, a stranger coming in from the country, and
unwittingly mingling with the crowd, is laid hold of to bear
the cross. The mental agony of the previous night in the
dark shades of the garden ; — the scourging and cruel indig-
nities to which he had been subjected, had so prostrated
his physical powers that alone he could not bear the bur-
den. And now as they press onward, a great company of
people and of women follow, bewailing and lamenting him.
These women were not the intimate friends of Christ. They
are not to be confounded with the Galilean women who
came to the sopulchrQ to embalm the body, and who sor-
rowed bitterly because they fouad the grave empty and the
object of their affection gone. They were attracted thither,
not because of personal attachment to the Saviour, but
from wonder and curiosity at this strange, unparalleled
event. But destitute though they were of that deep genu-
ine sorrow for the Saviour's sufferings which filled the
hearts of the disciples, they were possessed of human sym-
pathies, that could not remain unmoved in the presence
of uncalled for violence, and in view of the approaching
tortures of the cross that were appointed the condemned.
And so they bewailed and lamented him, little thinking
that their own condition was far more pitiable, than was
that of this victim of Jewish rage. Turning towards them,
Jesus said: "Daughters of Jerusalem, w^cep not for me,
but weep for yourselves and for your children.

Let us endeavor to understand the nature of the sym-
pathy that called forth these tears. On such occasions

SENTIMENTAL RELIGION.

147

vast crowds wore usual, but no such things as tears. It
was considered out of place to bestow compassion upon a
malefactor. Curses, execrations, insult and reproach most
frequently accompanied the criminal to the place of execu-
tion. There must therefore be some otlier way of account-
ing for this unusual behaviour. These women, although
not the intimate friends of Christ, had doubtless heard of
him — of his holy life, his words and works. Possibly they
had been spectators of many of his marvellous and merciful
cures, so that a growing conviction pressed upon their
minds that this man who wf,i about to die was removed
from the range of ordinarv criminals. In addition to this,
they may have been convers ^"it with his unjust trial and
condemnation, and felt very much as did Pilate when ho
said : " What evil hath he done ? — I find no cause of death
in him." If this be so, we can very easily account for
their conduct. It was not mere superficial sympathy tha*
they exhibited, but real sorrow as far as it went. Jews
though they were, and opposed to all that savoured of
change in thoir creed, they could not silently witness the
manifest wrongs that this man suffered. They must pro-
test with their tears, if not with uplifted voices, against the
inhumanity of the nation.

Sympathy in such circumstances was not despised by
the Saviour. As proportioned to their knowledge, he ac-
cepted it as a fragrant flower thrown across his pathway of
thorns. Yet much as they grieved for him, it was nothing
compared to the sorrow he felt for their miserable condition.
He foresaw the future woes that were soon to fall upon the
Jewish nation and the city of Jerusalem. These very
women wore included hi the terrible judgments of heaven
impending against the murderers of our Lord. " His l)lood

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SENTIMENTAL RELIOION.

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bo upon us and our children" was tlio unanimous voice of
the nation, and tliat blood was soon to be required of tliem.
While Christ's sufferings and death on the cross, were to
Iiim the precursors of unending joj' and glory at his father's
right hand, for these poor daughters of Israel there was
nothing in reserve but the vengeance of an angry God.
The days would come when the barren and childless mother
would be the most envied in the land — when marriage
would be deemed a curse, and death, however sudden, a
blessing. "Behold the days are coming in the which they
shall say, Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never
bare, and the paps which never gave suck. Then shall
they begin to say to the mountains, fall on us ; and to the
hills, cover us."

We know nothing more of these women. May we not
liope that the tragedy of Calvary, and the manifestation of
divine X)Ower exhibited in the darkening of the sun, the
rending of the rocks, the opening of the graves, and the
rending of the temple's veil, produced in some a simple
faifh in the divinity of Christ ? We would like to persuade
ourselves, that even now they were feebly groping their way
towards the great fact, as their tears fell fast and thick on
the way to Calvary ; and that when they heard the dying
cries of the incarnate God upon the cross, many responded,
"My Lord and my God!" So far, hoxvever, as ive read,
their tears and lamentations resulted in nothing. They
had as yet no true appreciation of the Saviour's character,
no correct knowledge of the nature and cause of his suli'er-
ings, no belief in his Messiahship, and no sense of personal
guilt and sins to be atoned for. Their grief proceeded from
causes that were altogether external, and not from a feel-
ing of moral wretchedness, or a consciousness that they

SENTIMENTAL RELIGION.

149

wero personally responsible, for the crucifixion of the
Saviour.

Many still weep at the recital of Christ's sufTerings and
death, without any genuine conviction of sin. !Mcn's emo-
tional temperaments vary as much as the features of the
countenance or the tones of the voice. Some are proof
against all unheard manifestations, while the soul within
heaves and surges like the billows of the ocean. Others
are easily affected. Floods of tears bedew the eyes, with-
out any internal convulsions whatever. But be the differ-
ence of temperament what it may, if there is anything cal-
culated to excite the interest of a congregation, it must
surely be the story of a Saviour's sufferings and his igno-
minious death. It is hardly possible for a human being
to read for the first time the history of the passion, simply
as an uninspired tale, without giving way to tears. That
lieart must bo adamant and destitute of all the finer sensi-
bilities that belong to our fallen race, that docs not melt
nnder the recital of the woes of Gethsemane and the dying
struggles of the cross.

It is just here that we may deceive ourselves fatally as
to our true condition, mistaking sentiment for godly peni-
-ence, and mere outward emotion for a radical change of
heart. You may tunc a very ordinary instrument up to
such a pitch, that it gives forth sweet and delicate tones,
and you may work up the human soul by a kind of moral
pressure to a point whence relief from its burdened feelings
is sought in tears. And yet, in many instances, subsequent
events plainly show that the deep fountains of real godly
sorrow have never onse been fathomed.

Religion in the present day is with many a mere sen-
timent. The comparatively small additions made from the

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world to tho clinrch proves it. The oar ia charmed and the
imagination delighted, but the heart remains unimpressed
and unalTcctcd. As under the spell of enchanting music
or oratory, tho emotions aro for tho time excited, while tho
soul remains unmoved and the judgment dormant, so is it
in the case of thousands of gospel hearers. They have a
name to live, while in reality they are dead.

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This religion of sentiment is fair to look upon, iu tho
eyes of the world. Those who profess it, bear a good repu-
tation in society. They are not chargeable with flagrant
immorality. They profess great respect for the servants
of God and reverence for the sanctuary. In their outward
behaviour there is nothing unbecoming. They appear
indeed at times, interested in the words of the preacher,
and while actually engaged in devotional exercises, under
genuine conviction. But once beyond the preacher's voice,
all solemn reiiection is at an end. Religion with them is
but an art — a love for the beautiful — a fondness for pomp,
parade, and ostentatious display ; a desire for fine archi-
tecture, philosophic preaching and thunder-toned organs,
all of which can do little more than please the eye and ear,
gratify the ^imagination, and polish the acerbities of life.
In proportion as such religion extends, true piety lan-
guishes, vital Christianity decays, and the boundary lino
between the church and the world becomes less and less
definite. True religion is more than sentiment. It is not
mere taste, nor love of the beautiful, nor temporary mentaj
excitement, but consists in the exercise of faith, x^cnitencc
and love. ' * The religion of stained glass windows and altar
cloths ; — of vestments and processions — the worship of
which architecture is the body and music the soul," is
not tho religion of the meek and lowly Jcsus.

riENTIMEMTAL UKLIGION.

151

Many go to the liousc of God, for lUr mere acridnttuls
of reliijion. Tlioy relish fjiic music, operatic aire, and high
art iu the choristers. lu their ostimatiou, the music aud
tho accompaniments arc of much greater importance tlian
the sermon or tlic saoraracuts of the church, Tliey love
occlosiastical etiquette iu tho pulpit ; — rhetoric, gesticula-
tion and ministerial dignity, according to the most modern
rules of propriety. Tho manner of tho preacher is of far
more importance than the matter. More particularly, they
relish such men as never interfere with personal or social
evils ; who read moral homilies and give virtuous exhorta-
tions from week to week, that never come home to the
conscience or disturb the feelings !

A largo numbftr go out of respect Jor the meviory of their
ancestors, and out of deference to the minister of religion.
Church going is with them a family legacy. It is respecta-
ble to go at least once a day, and mix with the better class
of society. They cannot do altogether without religion.
The family pew must occasionally bo occupied. Tho ser-
vices of the clergyman may bo required to preach a funeral
sermon, or perform some necessary duty. Others, again,
patronize ministers as they do a public charity. They do
not like to injure their feelings by non-attendance, although
tho benefit derived hardly, iu their estimation, compensates
, SL'lf-deuial practiced.

NOW there is nothing wrong in simple attachment to
the church of our fathers, nor in training children to exer-
cise reverence for the memory of departed worth, but to
make this tl whole of one's religion is most humiliating.
When a mai nters the communion of a (lurch, simply
because hi ouds belong to it, little steadfastness of pur-

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SENTIMENTAL RELiaiON.

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posG or genuine consecration to the cause of Christ, can
be expected.

Others (JO for mere excittment. A certain amount of
change is necesKary to seme natures, and such they find
in tl\c house of God. To meet this abnormal desire, soji-
satioual preachers abound, the supply being fully up to the
demand. The daily prints advertise striking topics and
singular texts for discussion in the pulpit. Newspaper
dramas of the week are illustrated and moralized upon on the
Sabbath. The ordinary service of the church is deemed
dull and lifeless. Old-fashioned preachers, who continue
to discourse upon the great fundamental doctrines of our
common faith are forsaken, and the old forms of scriptu-
ral exposition despised. Ths further removed from Apos-
tolic simplicity, the more popular with largo numbers in
every community, is religion at the present day.

Another class, and the last we mention, attend the
house of God on j^^Mic (jronmh. They have a feeling that
religion, though of little value to the individual, is good for
the national virtue. A sujierficial coating of religion, like
the cement that holds together thu stones m a building, or
the paint that freshens and brightens its appearance, is
considered good in society and in halls of legislation. The
very name, "Christian," sounds well, if nothing more,
in the ears of foreigners. They encourage religion and
attend upon ordinances simply for the sake of example, and
not from any belief that the respectable classes in the com-
munity stand in need of it. If they give for the support of
tlic gospel, and the spread of religion, it is not on the
ground of principle, but rather to fall in with a populi.r,
though foolish idea prevalent at the present day, that Chrii^-
tianity is conducive lo the prosperity of nations, and the

SENTIMENTAL RELIGION.

153

welfiirc of socioty. In regard to all these classes of reli-
gious sentimentalists, we may use the words of old : " Tlicy
come unto tUce as tliy people cometli, and tliey sit before
tlico as my people, and they hear tliy woicls, but they will
not do them ; for with their mouths they show much love,
buf. liiuir heart goeth after their covctousness. And lo,
th ).^ art unto them as p. very lovely song, of one that hath
a pleasant voice and can play well on an instrument ; for
they hear thy words, but they do them not."

It must be admitted that sometimes the preacher is
blamcablo for this state of matters. If there were not
found at the present day numbers, who pander to this in-
ordinate demand for novelty, the religion of sentiment
would iiave fewer follov/crs; There are some of wliom it
can only be said, that they play well on the instrument.-
At times it is with the passions or prejudices of the hearer;
on other occasions it is by the power of imagination, or
the beauty of composition, or by certain premeditated ex-
travagances in speech and manner, that the crowd is at-
tracted and their attention sustained. Such sermons, read
or hoard, are in maiiy respects captivating. The morality
is fair — the a.vgumcnt is logical — the language is flowery —
the paradoxct' are startling — and the colouring is vivid.
Bat where the substance upon which the hungry sinner
should be fed ? It is like giving a starving man a boufjuot
of flowers, instead of a loaf of bread ! Ask yourself what
real instruction has been gained — what new heaven-born
impulses given — what comfort and consolation imparted
under the pressing cares and trials of existence ? If men
were merely hum^Ji philosophers, appointed to discover
and apply the laws of the material and spiritual world ; if
our highest welfare could bo secured by the elements of

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worldly wisdom, or by the fanciful creations of poetic
genius, then such prelections might suffice. But if men
are really lost and guilty, depraved and ruined, then the
loftiest flights of human oratory, disassociated from the
Cross of Calvary, l)ut mock the guilty sinner.

True religion, in contrast with the religion of senti-
ment, consists in doing as well as in hearing. Christianity
has duties to be performed, as well as doctrines to be be-
lieved. The gospel preached must be regarded as the
message of God, and not the words of man ; as bringing
under our notice truths of vital importance, and upon
which hang momentous issues, l^eligion — practical, pure
and uudcfilod — is not a mere system of doctrines, or a
creed, however skilfully elaborated and consonant to the
teachings of scripture, but a living power — a lan<;,uage to
be daily spoken and a character to be daily acted.

This leads us to remark, that the value of our tears depends
very much on the estimate we hold of Christ's person and
work. Judged by the conduct of many, the record of
Christ's sullbrings is but a tiction or moral tale, very per-
fect in all its parts, but having no special . elation to the
individual. They do not regard it as descriptive of the
death of a divine being— a death altogether exceptional in
the history of our world. They bestow upon it far less
study than is given to the biography of a merely human
martyr, who makes no pretensions to anythhig supernatu-
ral in his life or death.

What is the scriptural representation of Christ's
mission to this world ? Ho is declared to bo one, who in
addition to tlio attributes of sinless liumanity, possesses
the fullness of the divine being ;— as sent to reconcile man

SENTIMENTAL RELIGION.

155

and God, by giving his life in atonement for Imman trans-
gression. Without this tlio Bible has no meaning— no
vaUic — no appHcation whatever to the inhabitants of this
world.

Now what is your opinion of this history '? Is it true
or false, or partly true and partly false ? Was there ever
such a person as Christ, and were his claims to divinity
real or assumed ? Did ho fulfil prophecy in his life and
death '? Did he suffer for his own or the sins of others ?
Did he die simply as a martyr misunderstood and persecu-
ted for his peculiar views, or as the Son of God ? Is there
such a relation between his death and our happiness or
misery here and hereafter, that belief or unbelief ensures
the one or the other ?

An answer to such questions is all-important. If
Christ was but a man, — although the noblest specimen of
perfect manhood the world has ever witnessed, — and if he
only died as a martyr, then nothing more is required of us
than a tribute to hio memory and a tear of regret that the
world prematurely lost so much moral worth. Men have
died in every age for vital principles. Their memory is
dear and their names symbohcal of all that is heroic in
human action* Is this your opinion of Christ ? Or do yon
simply regard him as a well-meaning fanatic, who hoped to
inaugurate a reign of morals antagonistic to the established
order of things, and who perished in the attempt, leaving
little cause for gratitude or grief behind him !

Those who are conversant with the skeptical literature
of the day need not be told, that such views are not only
prevalent, but embraced by thousands. That they are
false and pernicious— -destructive of man's accountability

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SENTIMENTAL RELIGION.

and responsibility, and subversive of the entire scheme of
redemptive agency, I need not add. That many in our
christian congregations nevertheless, act in accordance
with such a creed, is beyond all controversy. They would
indignantly repel the accusation of Deism, and yet in prac-
tice they deny the atonement of Jesus Christ and the ne-
cessity of faith in his blood.

11 > i*=^

If such be your candid opinion, nothing more is de-
manded than a passing tear. Like the women who fol-
lowed Cbrist, you think that society treated him badly —
that ho did nothing worthy of death, and that the insults
and tortures to which he was subjected were inhuman and
fiendish. You feel that Pilate was blameable in giving him
up, at the cry of an ignorant and infuriated mob. But
that is all. Personally you are guiltless of his blood, and
in no way interer.ted in his death. If this is not your
creed ; — if you hold the blessed truth that Christ was very
God — that he came to redeem man — that his death has
purchased redemption ; — that faith in his blood — trust in
his merits — confidence in his advocacy are all essential to
salvation — then we protest against the cold indifference
with which you regard his death, as if you were uncon-
cerned spectators of the cruciiixion of Calvary.

Christ's sutferings are over. He no longer treads the
dolorous way to Golgotha; No Cyrenian sh U ever a^gain
need to bear his cross: P>ut to-day the Holy opirit brings
up before our minds the sad spectacle (hat called forth the
lamentations of the women of Jerusalem, and demands of
us a direct avowal of our faith or an honest expression of
our unbehef. What see you in that meek and gentle one,
who walks uncomplainingly before his persecutors ? Do

SENTIMENTAL RELIGION.

167

you realize in him the spotless lamb of God, who bears the
fjuilt of the world ? Do you feci that your personal sins
brought him to this hour, and do you in any measure ap-
prehend the momentous interests involved in his sacrifice ?
Are you willing to commit to his hands the redemption of
your bodies and the salvation of your souls ?

However lightly men may esteem the atonement of
Christ, he estimates very differently the doom that awaits
impenitent souls. In that hour when his own heart sor-
rows reached their culmination, he occupied his mind with
tlioughts concerning his enemies. His own awful suffer-
ings were forgotten, in view of the wretchedness and des-
pair in store for those who looked on with unconcerned
wonderment at the crucified. And yet a more terrible ven-
geance than fell upon unbcHeving Jews is predicted for the

despisors of God's grace. Mere reverence for the acciden-
tals of religion and respect for its ordinances avail nothing,
so long as the heart is unmoved because of the heinousness
of shi and the dishonor put upon Christ by persistent un-
belief. To refuse the gracious offer of salvation is the
greatest of all crimes, and has attached to it the most ter-
rible of penalties. It is tantamount to a denial of the
value of Christ'.s work and the infinite efflcacv of his blood.
To ail such Christ says, as he did to the daughters of Jeru-
salem : "Weep not for me, but weep for yourselves ;" your
tears and pity are as offensive as were the crown of thorns
and purple robe, in which the soldiers arrayed him on the
eve of crucifixion. The tears that Christ most values, arc
such as proceed from genuine contrition of heart in view of
what the Saviour suffered to save us from everlasting woe.
"Godly sorrow worketh repentance to salvation not to bo
repented of; but the sorrow of ino world worketh death."
Better that men weep now for their sins, while there is
promiso of forgiveness, than delay until beyond the reach
of pardon. Of such an one it is said : " Ho found no place
for repentance, though ho sought it carefully with teara."

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THE FATHEK'S LOVE.

" It pleased the Lord to bruise liim. He was bruised for our iniquities."

— Isaifth 53, v. 10, 5.

These words suggest for consideration the part tho
Father acted in the sufferings and death of Christ. While
at the present day, there is no just ground for accusing the
pulpit of neglecting the foremost doctrine of our faith —
Christ's unspeakable love to perishing sinners — in many
instances the infinite love of God the Father is neither so
prominently or so frequently presented as the truths of
God's word demands, and as a complete view of redemption
warrants. Scripture is far from silent on this point. For
side by side with the love of Christ, the eternal love of tho
Father as the origin of all our hopes for time and eternity,
shines forth with the brightness of the sun, and is repeated
with a distinctness which the Holy Spirit evidently in-
tended, should call forth our gratitude and evoke our praise.

The love of the Father is often mentioned in connec-
tion with that of the Son, and in virtue of their union, when
wo speak of the one we thus speak of the other. But not
always so. In many places they are considered separately,
and must of necessity be so, in order to a proper under-

THE father's love.

150

standing of the separate work assigned the three persons of
the Godliead in the work of redemption. In the following
passages the love of the Father is distinctly specified : " In
this was manifested the love of God toward us, because that
God sent his only begotten son into the world, that wo
might live through him. Herein is love, not that we loved
God, but that ho loved us, aud sent hit son to bo the pro-
pitiation for us. God so loved the world, that he gave his
only begotten son, that whosoever beUeveth in him should
not perish, but have everlasting Ufe. The Father himself
loveth you. That the world may know that thou hast loved
them, as thou hast loved me." These passages might be
multiplied indefinitely, but it is unnecessary. They set
before us the originating love of God the Father, in the
giving up of Christ to die for a ruined race. "It pleased
the Lord to bruise him. He was bruised for our iniquities."

In spite of such plain declarations of scripture, the
feelings entertained by many towards God the Father, are
very different from those cherished towards Jesus Christ his
son. They look upon him as a stern, exacting, fcclingless
Sovereign, who so far from commiserating the miserable
condition of our guilty and apostate world, rather delights
in inflicting condign punishment and exacting from the
helpless sinner the penalties of a broken law. Christ is to
them all tenderness and sympathy, but the Father is robed
in judgment and full of fury. It is not so ! •' Fury is not
in me — who would set the briers and thorns against me in
battle ? I would go through them, I would burn them
together. Or lot him take hold of my strength, that he
may make peace with me ; and he shall make peace
■with me."

In the text there is bronglit before us :
part in the work of redeipption ; the nature

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THE FATUEU S LOVE.

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forings and death, and the substitutionary character of
these sufferings.

I. The Father's part in the work of redemption. Tlic
love of God is hero distinctly implied. " lie was pleased
to bruise him." Nothing else could prompt such a sacri-
fice. What but infinite love — a love that passcth know-
ledge — could have devised a method of escape from ever-
lasting woe ? Think for a moment of the condition of our
race after the fall, and try, if you can from a human point
of view, to solve the mighty problem that presented itself
for solution. "It was worse than the defection of tlio
angels, for while some of them fell, many stood. God's
wisdom was justified in the fidelity of many. Heaven was
not ruined. But as for man, it seemed as if heaven and
earth had been made in vain. An entire race apostatized
from God." It is well for us at times, reverently, as has
been remarked, to look at the difficulties of the case, just
that one may acknowledge the utter helplessness of human
reason, and admire the wisdom of the Eternal. What in
such a crisis was best to be done? The question might at
once have been summarily settled, by surrendering our first
parents to suffer the doom their sin justly merited. Tlicy
might have been cast down to hell like the fallen angels, to
endure the companionship of devils and the derision of
Satan. It was just as easy for God thus to act, "cutting
off a race of wretches and burning up our sin-cursed earth,"
as to devise a method of redemption. But in such a case,
what glory would have accrued to tbo Divine being com-
pared with that which shines from the cross of Calvary,
and streams from the very grave of the conquering Mes-
siah '? What hope, if a new race of human beings were
created, that the I'csult would be dinorent ? To create

(i t,

THE FATHER S LOV«.

161

another world and people it -with another STich race of fal-
lible mortals, only in turn to be destroyed, would surely
have been a confession of weakness on the part of God ; —
an admission that though able to create, ho was unable to
preserve the creatures of his hand from sin, or atono in
any way for their defects. Or if, as has curiously been
suggested, the guilty race had been preserved, and a new
and better one grafted on the lost one, securing freedom
from original depravity and all the essentials of a holy life*
liow long would such innocence have loeu retained, in con-
tact with the elements of sin, remainin>.( iia the world from
the former fall ? Such a si ggestion is but an evasion of
tlio difficulty, and shows all the more plainly how abso-
lutely necessary was the interposition ef a higher power
than man, to save the workl. That God tbc father did in-
terpose and solved the mighty problem that baffled all
created intelligences ; that he prepared a plan of redemp-
tion, which while it honors tlio majesty and justice of tlie
divine law, at the same time justifies tbc sinner and blots
out his sin, is surely one of the best of evidences that ])i8
love waa sincere and genuine, as it was unmerited and frco.
But the language not only declares the Ibvo of God the
Father, but iraplioB t]:!it he decreed and determined that
Christ should die. ** Awake, sword, against my shep-
herd, says the prophet Zcchariah, and against the man that
is my fellow, saith the Lord of hosts ; smite the shepherd,
and the sheep shall be scattcrld." "It pleased tho Lord
to bruise him ; he hatli put l\i.m to grief." In the Now
Testament 'his is corroborated by the Evangehsts, v/herc it
is declared that by the determinate counsel of God, JcAwa
was given up to death. It is true that tho Jews were
guilty of the tragedy of Calvary, but they were at tlio same
tunc instrumcntij in the hands of God for tho fulfilment o f

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162

THE FATHER S LOVE.

prophecy. Christ was thus actually smitten by God, but
not for personal sin. He was the victim of divine ven-
geance,— the chosen sacrifice for the redemption of the
world.

I f

Surely nothing but absolute necessity brought about
an event so unprecedented in the history of our world.
God's love for his son was a love of which finite beings can
have but faint conception, but when the salvation of men
was at stake, he spared not this son. The sword leapt from
its scabbard, and at the bidding of the Eternal Father
smote the sheplierd. We must not, in speaking on such a
subject, apply the ordinary rules that govern human con-
duct. To theorize on such questions is easy, but beyond
the cleat ii^timations of scripture we dare not go, andjapart
from them there is no sure ground of intelligent belief.
Man had sinned deeply — heinously. God's law had been
violated and his holiness insulted. The creature had re-
belled in circumstances that left no room for the exercise
of mercy, without at the same time the vindication of God's
perfections. Whatever be the issue, the rectitude of God's
government must be maintained. It is true in one sense,
that by an act of sovereignty, God might have pardoned a
rebel wo»kl and overlooked human guilt. But he could
not as the holy, just and righteous, do so. Having estab-
lished certain laws, and dopreed certain penalties tor diso-
bedience, hd must inflict punishment or compromise his
character and falsify his very being. "What God as the
omnipotent ccmld do, God as the holy, just and true, could
not do. fiad he done so, the pillars of his eternal throne
would have tottered to their base." This is the plain teach-
ing of scripture. Christ's blood was not shed, as has been
Wasphemduely aliieged, to purchase for us tho love of God,

TUE FATHER S LOVE.

163

as wo would appoaso an avenging Doity. Tiiat lovo oxistcd
un bought from all eternity, and gave birth to tho glorious
scheme of redemption. But man having sinned, that love
could only have full exercise through tho sacriiico and
atonement of tho Lord Jesus Christ.

II. Consider the nature of Christ's sufferings and
death. " It pleased the Lord to bruise him," or as some
commentators translate it, "it delighted the Lord to bruise
him" — an interpretation which strange as it may sound,
expresses the wonderful love that God the Father bore to-
wards our apostate race. "Awake Srord, smite tho
shepherd." "It is not a charge to the rod to correct him,
says Matthew Henry, but the sword to slay him. It is not
tho sword of war to whom he has given charge, that ho
may die in the bed of honor, but the sword of justice, that
he may die as a criminal upon an ignominious tree." Tho
work must be complete — the penalty swift and decisive —
irrevocable and unalterable. Tho unsheathed sword car-
ried with it divine and human offerings. "Ho stood, as it
wore, at the gates of hell. Ho was pierced with envenomed
arrows of the Almighty's vengeance."

To analyse the Saviour's sufferings is be3|)nd human
power. But in the light of the text it is not difficult, at
least in some measure, to understand what constituted the
heaviest of his sorrows. Bodily pain the Saviour endured
in common with the malefactors who hung^ liy his side.
That body which had never been the instrument or occasion
of sin, bore the marks of the inhuman treatment, which
was the common fate of notorious violatdls of human law.
But tliis was after all but the smallest elemteat in his suf-
ferings. He did not simply suffer for his peop^'s sins, but
he suffered //-om these sins. Sin in any shapQ was abhor*

»' II

104

THE FATHER 8 LOVE.

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rent to liis nature, Wo may weep and mourn over the
hardness of the einncr's heart, but our grief cannot bo com-
pared with hifl, who knew the miseries of the lost. The
coldness of those who should have been his truest friends ;
the base treachery and infidelity of the betrayer ; the denial
of Peter and the frequent absence of his disciples, and the
want of faith and confidence in his words which they so
often evinced, wore all so many sources of poignant grief.
As Edwards remarks : '• Christ was consumed in the fires
of his people's sins ; — his divine nature supplied the fuel,
which made it burn the more fiercely." But the bitterest
ingredient in his cup of woe •wirn the direct agency of his
heavenly father, and the hiding of his lace. It mattered
nothing that Jesus was holy in himself, he must bo accoun-
ted vile and guilty when standing in our room. The ani-
mal sacrificed at the door of the tabernacle was innocent of
the sins of Israel, but selected as the victim of atonement,
it must die and its blood be sprinkled on tho mercy seat.
The punishment annexed to sin by the divine lawgiver was
death in its most fearful sense, and this Christ bore in the
brief period of his dreadful agony, when "ho suiforod the
fire of God's VWath and curse." On no other principle can
we explain the gloo^u and heaviness that gathered around
the Saviour's soui hi Gethsemane and upon the cross*
Martyrs have gone io the stake triumphantly, and accoun-
ted their chains aiid fetters the brightest adornments of
their persons. In tlio midsfc cf the flames they have sung

hymns of praise, as if the soul in its ecstacy experienced
no pam. But not bd the son of God. He faints beneath

tho cross as he goe;. towards Calvary. On tho accursed

tree no songs of joy escape his lips — his only cry is one of

despondency a,nd despair. Why such supernatural grief?

The text suppUes tho answer • '• // i^lcased the Lord to bruise

TUK FATHEIt 8 LOVE.

1C6

Aim." Tho nails that piorcod his hands and feet, and tho
sword that entered his side, were driven into his hody by
tho will and approval of heaven. •• Tho upper and ncthor
millstones of divino wrath pressed and bruised him, and
not ouo drop of consolation \vas all'ordod him." All this
ho sulTered, and foresaw ii-om eternity. Ho knew the iuli-
nite descent to which ho must ytoop, and yet '* made heir
mortal pangs and emptied of his glory, with unavorted eyo
he met the storm."

Christ still suffers in ijoavon from tho unbelief of mca.
Although the darkness of Calvary is past and tlio bruising
of his heavenly father is over, his holy nature grieves over
tho impenitence of sinners, lie is not only touched with a
feeling of our infirmities, but his heart is daily wounded
because of unholy lives. ''And ono shall say unto him,
Avliat arc these wounds in thine hands ? Th(3n ho shall
answer, those with which I was wounded in tho house of
my friends." The fear of anew "bruising" tho Saviour,
should bo one of the strongest motives to avoid temptation.
Every act of sin is evil in itself and terrible in its results,
but it also "crucifies the son of God afresh, and puts him
to an open shame."

III. Consider briefly the substitutionary character of
Christ's sufferings. " He was bruised for our iniquities.''
Tho remarks already made have implied this, and the word
of God everywhere declares it. Perfectly holy and guilt-
less in himself, he had no sins demanding atonement. It
was for man he suffered. As our representative, he volun-
tarily and wilhngly undertook our redemption. Dying, he
took away for ever all grounds of accusation against tho
believer, and rising from the grave, he pubUshed to tho
world, that so far as they were concerned, death had been

'jf

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16G

THE father's love.

conquered tind eternal life secured. This ia not a mere
figure ot Epoecb, as some would have us believe. Jesus
Christ, by bis sufferings and death, nas fully met all the
claims that divine justice could advancb against the sinner.
Man was condemned to eternal misery. Christ endured
what was vahd payment " tor even an eternity of suffering. "
Ho took the cup of divine indignation into his hands, and
drank it to the dregs.

"At ono triumphant draught of love,
He drank damnation dry."

Ho paid our debt. He took our sins and nailed them to
the cross, and buried them in the grave, and now his peo-
ple are for ever free from the load of din. The atonement
was not of that general character *^^hat all or none may bo
saved. Christ by his death did not simply make it possi-
ble for God to pardon. The doctrine of substitution, as
taught in scripture, asserts the cortainty of forgiveness and
the possession of heaven, to all who believe. "He is able
to pftvo them to the uttermost that come unto God by him,
seeing he eva.v livoth to make intercession for th' m." •* Once
in the end of the world hath ho appeiired, to put away si-a
by the sajrifise of him^ielf. Bo Christ was once offered to
bear the sins of many,"

These sufferings of the Saviour, proceeding as tliey all
did directly or indirectly Lorn our sins, will if rigltly con-
ceived of, increase our graiitudo and lovo for his person and
his work, and produce corresponding huciility und contri-
tion of spirit. Such offerings are well pleasmg to God.
" The sacrifices of Gcd aro a broken spirit : a broken and
a contrite heart he will not despise:" Unless our consci-
ences are entirely callous, we cannot remain unmoved at

THE father's love.

167

the recital of the Redeemer's agony. Our souls will bo
fiUt.d with adoring wonder at the unmerited grace of hea-
ven, while we endeavour to make ourselves more worthy
of that Saviour's regard.

Just in proportion as we gain a correct knowledge of our
relations to God the Father and his Sou Jesus Christ will
be our peace of mind. It is not enough for us to rest in
the general mercy of God, for there can bo no mercy exer-
cised until satisfaction has been rendered to violated law.
Without the shedding of blood — the blood of God's own
Son — there can be no remission of sin. This doctrine
cannot In 'joo often insisted upon, for thousands deceive
themselves with d'^uaivc hopes of salvation that have no
other foundation tuau mere isolated statements of Scrip-
ture, which declare the long-suffering and tenderness of
the Almighty. If the blood of Jesus Christ is unnecessary
to wash away sin, for what purpose such a lavisli expendi-
ture of love, and why so fearful an amount of suffering to
no purpose ? If by our own good deeds, by our morality
and honesty and upright conduct in the world, wo can se-
cure the favour of God, then the scheme of redemption
instead of being one of the brighest examples of divine wis-
dom is a stupendous folly. A man's good character in an
earthly court of law cauuot excuse a capital crime, or pro-
vent the execution of the penalty. Nor can attendance
upon ordinances, nor acts of charity, nor outwardly vir-
tuous lives stand us instead of Christ's expiatory .sacrifice.
These arc v.iluablc as evidences to the world of our belief
in the Christian religion, but reliance on tliom for salvation
is liopoless. It was not enough that the impotent man at
the pool of Siloam should gaze upon the healing waters ;
nor was it enoujiu that seeing others cured ho believed in their

168

THE father's love.

fi*

efficacy ; be must at the appointed moment enter tho water
and recoive tliopromiHcd virtue. Naaman, the Syrian leper,
must bathe in the Jordan ere his vile impurity can be re-
moved. The Israelites must lock to the brazen serpent
before the plague is stayed in tho camp of Israel. And so,
in like manner, we must bathe in the fountain of Christ's
blood before the crimson stains of sin are removed and
our guilt and pollution washed avay. For this end Christ
was '• bruised" by the Father. " He bore our griefs and
carrit d our sorrows. He watj wounded for our trangrcs-
sions he was bruised for our in qukies ; un chastisement
of our peace was upon him, and with his otripes we arc
healed. The Lord laid on him the iniquity of us all."
Well may we say : —

"Blest bo the Lamb, my ileavost Lord,
Wlio bought mo with his blood ;
And (luenched his Father's llaming sword
In Ids own vital bloc d.

"All glory to the dying Lamb,
And never ceasing praise ;
A^Hiilo angels live to know his name,
Or saints to feel his grace."

THE DYING MALEFACTOR.

"And ho said unto Jesus, Lord, remember mc when thou coraoet
into thy Kingdom." — Luke 23, v. 42.

Of all the prayers ever offered that God would not forget
a poor dying sinner, that of the thief on the cross stands
out conspicuous, alike for its earnestness and simplicity.
Here there is no studied form, no attempt at elegance, or
precision of language for the bystander's ear. The since-
rity of the supplicant is manifest, as, trembling between
time and eternity, the burdened, anxious soul cries out :
"Lord, remember me when thou comest to thy kiugdom."

Let us look at the circumstances in whicii this wonder-
ful prayer was offered.

The cross had now been erected on Calvary. Between
two malefactors there hangs the Ecdcomcr of men. Life
slowly, but surely ebbs awny, under painful bodily agony
and inconceivable mental distress. Scolling Jews, passing
by the cross, mock the sufi"crcr, exclaiming. "Thou that
destroyest the tempi., and bulkiest it in three days save
thyself. If thou be the Hon of God, come down from the
cross." The chief priests and elders, abstaining from the
more vulgar raillery, say among themselves .■ " lie saved

'W-n

170

TIIK DYING MALEKAOTOl;

Iii

otliors, himself ho cannot yavc. If ho bo the king of Is-
rael, let him come ilov.n from the cross and wc will believe
him." The Roman soldiers, ollering him vinegar to drink,
join in the general mockery of the crowd ; and, lastly, one
of the malefactors hanghig by his side, rails at him, say.
ing- "If thou bo the Chri::it, save thyself and us." Strange
that among those who added to the Saviour's agony in such
an hour, should be one of the malefactors. " Many an old,
deep grudge has been buried at the gallows' foot, and those
who died together on the scaffold have almost always desired
to die at peace. Outcasts from the world, they have drawn
largely upon the sympathy of one another." But here it
is not so. The dying criminal by the side of the inno-
cent Saviour joins in tlu general ribaldry. Another drop
of gall and wormwood must be added to the cup of suffer-
ing ! How cheering, then, in such circumstances must the
prayer of the penitent thief have fallen upon the ear of the
dying Kedeomc. ? Alone in the world — forsakeii by his
disciples — abandoned by his Father — with no one to sym-
pathize — to vindicate his divinity or trust in his Mossiah-
bhip, these words of the dying malefactor^ must have been
unspeakably precious.

In regard to this remarkable prayer, notice that,

It was the first ever oferrd h)j fhi.f malefactor. This we
arc justified in assuming from the man's character. Ho
must have been no ordinary criminal, otherwise ho would
have been sparud the igiicminious death of crucifixion.
Barabbas, the robber, had been set at liberty, and one
only second in crime substituted as tlic comp'nnion of tho
dying Saviour. From bis ov;n ccnffssion, wo caji gather
something of his previous life. AVhcii tho other mak'fao-
tor railed at Jesui.;, this one rebuked hnu for his blasphemy

■^^

THE DYINTr JIALKFACTOR.

171

ackiiowlodp^'ing his guilt ami the justice of bis doom. By
.successive stages lie liad bocomc master of every conceiv-
able form of evil possible to a bumau being, lie bad lung
since become reckless of life and the consequences of
wickedness. Conscience was all but dead. The terrors
of law, human and divine, had no longer power to terrify.
He laughed at the idea of a God, and mocked at the thought
of retribution aiui coming judgment. Now, for such a man
to pray, in the indulgence of his passions and in the com-
mission of such wickedness, would be the highest form of
deceit ever practised by a human being. We are therefore
warranted in saymg that the prayer on the cross was his
very first attemp'^— the first exercise of the awakened sou
in communion xdih its Maker.

But although tlie first prayer, it ijin\s evidence of his genu-
ine conversion. What led him to recognize Christ as the
Son of God, and by what causes conviction was produced,
wo know not ; but that upon the cross he was savingly
changed we cannot for a moment doubt. Some have gone
so far as to say, that at first he joined with the other male-
factor in railing Jesus, but afterwards underwent such a ra-
dical change, that he was led to pray to that Saviour whom
lie formerly maligned. Whether this was the case or not, we
arc s.ifc in concluding, that not until he reached the cross
did he experience this striking change of heart. In the
very agonies of death, the Holy Spirit revealed to him his
awful sins — the guilt of his past career, and the danger of
perdition. Like Saul on his way to Damascus, he was in-
stantaneously transformed from a daring profiigato to a
sincere and humble Christian. Doomed to everlasting
wrath, ho is plucJied as a brand from the burning, and
made a trophy of redeeming grace !

,«.

172

THE DYING MALEFACTOR.

1>«

:i^

This prayer also, it is worthy of notice, (/iiw/i evidence of
decided hdief in our Lord's dieinit)/. Tlie prayer is not ad-
dressed to a man like himself, hut to God. He asks a fa-
vom- that none but the Almighty could bestow. And this
recognition of our Lord's divinity was at a time when there
was, humanly speaking, more room for skepticism than
ever, in such as were not his chosen friends. Durhig hia
life glimpses of glory had penetrated through the fleshly
covering of his divine nature, But these the malefactor
had never seen. His wondrous miracles, although proving
to every honest mind that he was indeed the Son of God,
had never been witnessed by the dying thief. It was not
until Calvary was reached that ho knew anything whatever
of Christ, and at this period more than formerly there was
a total absence of all proofs of his divinity. The wonder-
ful words and works that had characterized his former
ministry were no Lnger manifested. Like a sheep dumb
before his shearers, so was the Lord of glory in the pre-
sence of his persecutors. His glory was not merely ob-
scured, but for a time seemed totally eclipsed. The mul-
titude, that but a little before would have crowned liira
king, had now forsaken him, and his disciples had fled.
He was alone in the world, deserted by every follower and
friend. So far from any outward evidences of divinity
there were all the accompaniments of human weakness
and infirmity. See him in the garden, bowed down under
the weight of supernatural sorrow that crushed his holy
soul, and caused the sweat to fall like drops of blood from
his sacred brow, and the cry to escape his lips: " If it be
j)0ssible let this cup pass from me." See him as he sub-
mits to be arrayed in the purple robe and mock crown of
thorns, and to bear that cross on which he was to die, and
tell me was there anything in all this to prove the divinity

THE DYING MALEFACTOR.

173

ridence of
is not ad-
isks a fa-

Antl this
'lien tliero
;ism than
)uring Ilia
ho fleshly
nalefactor
h proving
1 of Gotl,
t was not
: whatever
there was
e won tier -
lis former
eep tlumb
n the pro-
aerely ob-
The mnl-
wned hira

had fled,
lower and
>f divinity

weakness
)wn under
1 his holy
)lood from

" If it be
18 he sub-

crown of
to die, and
tie divinity

of tl]C suffering Saviour '? Nay, even when he supplicates
his Father to forgive his enemies and murderers, is there
not, to human reason, more of helpless weakness than the
might and majesty of a God '? And yet, through this dark
veil, the poor dying malefactor lecognizcd the glory of his
person and the omnipotent cflieacy of his intercession.
Compared with such faith, that of the disciples is vastly
inferior in many respects. In spite of all that they saw
and heard in their frequent fellowship with Christ, they
seemed in some instances doubtful of his Messialiship until
he rose as a conqueror from tlio grave.

Finally, this prayer is the lamjuajje of appropriating/ faith.
It is the earnest cry of a dying man for pardon and salva-
tion. His views in regard to the method of redemption
may have been very confused and fragmentary ; but this
much he did know, that of himself he could do nothing/ to
secure forgiveness, and that his only hope lay in the mercy
of the dying Eedoemer. He believed that Jesus could save
him if he would but interpose on his behalf, but that other-
wise he must eternally perish. Possibly he may have had
certain doubts based upon his own unworthiness, of a fa-
vourable answer, but none whatever in regard to Christ's
ability. If mercy was withheld, he however occupied no
worse position than he did now. His case was desperate,
beyond the reach of human succour.

This taith of the dying malefactor was remarkable :

First, for its rapid (jrouth. Faith like other graces is
gradual in its increase. In many cases it is the result of
long and painful mental effort;?, preceded by deep convic-
tion of sin, and yea^s of anxious alarm. And when at last
reached, how seldom is it characterized by that implicit

'-Kf',^

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174

TUE DYINO MALEFACTOR.

p.<

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conficlGiico and unquestioning trust that ma'^ks tlio prayer
of this dying man ! It is not until nearly the close of life,
in many cases, that the believer can take up Paul's lan-
guage as his own : "I know whom I have behoved, and
am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have
committed unto him aganist that day." But in the case
before us faith was the work of a moment. The Holy
Spirit i ■ stantaneously created and perfected a change of
heart, and led to a saving knowledge of divine truth and
clear apprehension of the mercy of God in Christ.

Secondly. It was a faith altoijether independent of exier-
nal aids. Tliere are many instrumentalities and agencies
which, if they do not create, assist the growth of faith.
The word of God itself, wherein redemption is so fully re-
vealed, and whore there are so many precious promises of
pardon and rich disclosures of God's unmerited love to
sinners that strengthen our better aspirations — the ordi-
nances of the sanctuary, especially the scaling ordinance of
the supper, wherein Christ's sufferings and death arc visibly
set before us, are blessed opportunities, none of which the
dying malefactor ever enjoyed. He had probably never
heard of Christ from the moment he was born u^) to tho
time when ho was placed near him on the cross. Ho had
experienced no compunctions of conscience during his
wicked career, as those do who, having enjoyed the coun-
sels and prayers of pious parents, defile themselves in afte^'
years with the loathsome impurities of the world. On the
contrary, his associates were those who made religion a
laughing stock and mocked at God's name; who jeered at
the thought of hell and despised the idea of heaven. His
faith, therefore, was due directly and solely to the opera-
tions of God's Spirit, which can produce the strongest trust,
iudopeudent of all external aids.

TUK DYING MALKFACTOR.

175

■

Thirdly. It was n faith .simjlc in its uhjrct. It rested
alone upon Christ. The dying thief knew nothing of
church ceremonies, which too often come between the Sa-
viour and the sinner. It was well for him, indeed, that in
that awful hour his entrance to heaven depended not upon
the administration of sacraments, or the receiving of bap-
tism by the hands of an earthly priest. On the cross he
would have sought in vain for such consolations. And
well for him, too, was it that his faith depended not upon
the extent or depth of his knowledge, for of divine things
ho knew but little ; no more than the child at its mother's
knee — himself a sinner and Jesus Chribt a precious Sa-
viour.

And now look for a little at the prayer itself. "Lord,
remember me when thou comest to thy kingdom." lie
could not express in words all his wants ; but in the simple
expression, "7iV?»fm/^er?/!c," everything was comprehended.
If he could but secure the interest and mediation of Christ
it was enougli; Tiiere was no need of a lengthy explana-
tion of his case ; no need to tell him of his griefs and fears.
There was no time for such a work. Hu felt sure of the
compaBsion of heaven if he could but secure his pitying
eye. lie knew that divine sympathy was always associated
with divine energy ; that when the Saviour weeps he is
about to dry up the tears of others ; that when he groans
in spirit it is to hu.'h the groanings of a burdened soul.
The answer to such a prayer includes pardon, peace, pa-
tience, comfort hope and joy — guidance liero and glory
hereafter. All these the dying malefactor secured. But
his mortal life was now nearly ended, and therefore his
prayer refers more particularly to the future. In a few
hours he must enter the dark valley, pass within the veil,

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176

THE DYING MALEFACTOU.

and stand before the bar of heaven. His aius wore there
before hnu, dark and hovermg, a bhick and damnmg re-
cord. What in such circumstances he most required was
an advocate, an intercessor, one who had power in heaven
as well as on earth, and whose will was supreme in the
courts above, and therefore he says: ^' Keninnh^r me uheii
thoii comett to thy kifu/dom.'" He had no doubts as to the
certainty of the Saviour's resurrection. Already by faith
he had looked into the empty sepulchre, and with tlie dis-
ciples beheld the ascending Son of God, and with Stoplicn
saw him standing at the right hand of the majesty on high,
waiting to receive the glorified spirits of his saints.

Are there any here who have never prayed ? who have
never tried to pray ? who excuse themselves because they
have not the power of language ? To all such we say, if
in earnest about your soul's salvation you can act so no
longer. There is no one but can offer up the prayer of the
dying malefactor, and if you make it your own the answer
will assuredly come. Or, are there any here who imagine
themselves beneath the notice of Christ ? Surely with the
case of the dying malefactor before them, they cannot
longer entertain such unworthy suspicions of the love of
God. If he found pardon, wliy not you? If your sins
could shut up his bowels of compassion the agonies of per-
dition would long ere this have been j'our portion. God's
nature is love itself. All power is committed to Christ
on his mediatorial throne in heaven. He is able to save
to the uttermost all that come unto God by him. If peni-
tent, God can as easily, and will as gladly, pardon now as
at any period of life. The danger is that men as they
grow older become more hardened and less inclined to
seek salvation. We warn men not to delay — not because of

THE DYING MALEFACTOR.

177

a»i/ imu'illiiupu'ss on God's part to iiavo in tlio most dcspo-
rato cmorgGiicios and tlio most unlikely conditions, but
bocauso thcro arc so manv drawbacks and liindranccs to
rcpentanco in a dyin*,' hour, that comparatively lew ever
roach it. To begin life with repentance is better far ; to
repent in manliood is better far ; it is only better than no-
thing to repent at the close of life.

The aim of our remarks, then, is to sot forth tlio un-
wearying patience and forbearance of tbe Almighty in
bearing with men's ingratitude and provocations, through
the longest life, and accepting them in the very agonies of
death — not to advise any man to follow such a course of
conduct. For, even if a man was assured of entrance
upon paradise at the close of a wicked life, and pardon
and acceptance as full and final as the holiest of men can
possess, there are weighty conKinorations that should dis-
suade men from choosing such a moment for repentance.
Such a man is certainly saved, but not as a man who has
given himself and all his powers to God in youth, and en-
joyed for a long period the assurance of his favour. A
man cured of blindness far on in life seldom possesses
clear and certain vision. A broken bono allowed for a
time to remain unset will never gain the symmetry and
llexibility of the unbroken member. A tree transplanted
when the roots have taken hold of the earth does not take
kindly to the new soil, and seldom bears fruit for years.
In other words, a life spent for the most part in sin and
folly, cannot by a momentary act of repentance attain the
highest place of saintship in heaven. As has been said :
" There is no reason to suppose that the whole effect of
life is set aside by such an experience. It is not to be ex-
pected that a man who lives forty, fifty, sixty or seventy

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178

THE DYING MALEFACTOR.

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years, and tlicii ropoiits, enters upon the same state at
death that the man docs who hvos a long Hfc of self-denial
and purity and goodness. There is gradation of condition
even in heaven. There are some, wo are told, who shall
escape only as hy fh-e. Doubtless the man that to the last
moment of his earthly exiritonco neglects his duty to him-
self and his God, the man whose whole life has been a
perversion of everything that goes to constitute manhood
in the noblest sense of the term, if saved at all is saved at
the lowest point. His character is not turned around in a
second. The marks of his misdoings are not eflaced in an
instant. All are not just alike on entering the other sphere.
Those that live most nobly on this side stand highest on
that. All that is done here tells there, and all that is ne-
glected Here is lack there. The nature of the present life
has much to do with the nature of the life to come. And
although it is well for a man, even in his last moment, to
pass from scinshness to benevolence, and from sin to holi-
ness, vet his estate beyond the grave is lower than that of
one who has all his life long been a disciple of God."

This fact is recognized by men generally in their estimate
of the value of such repentances. Judged even by the low
standard of honour among men, they are said to be mean
— unmiinly. To live in the hope — nay, certainty, if you
will — that at last the waves beating along the shore of the
eternal world shall wash out the stains and footprints of
an evil life, seems ignoble and despicable in the highest
degree. Men are not sent into the world simply for carnal
enjoyment, and, after having tasted the sweets of unliiwful
pleasures, to steal into heaven as it were by a convulsive
change of being, however 1;i sting that change mny be.
And thus it is that considerable suspicion is always at-
tached to such cases— beyond what in many cases is righ<>

THE DYING MALEFACTOR.

17!>

you

tlio

cs of

iriial
^vfal
~ive
be.

right

aiul proper. It is argued, and not without <»oo(l reason,
that the fruits of holy living are necessary elements in
peaceful dying. That life is wasted, whatever be its end,
that accomplishes nothing worthy of existence, and no
testimony Jiowever striking and no refo)'mation however
genuine can ninke up for the lack of such evidence. Nay,
tiio consciousness that no single act in life has been
worthy of an immortal being ; that no effort has been put
forth to increase the happiness of our fellow-creatures, and
nothing attempted for the advancement of God's glory,
must render the last moments far from peaceful and trium-
phant.

But where is the security that space for repentance shall
be given any man upon a deathbed ? When that time
coiL'i how frequently men enter the eternal world under a
painh;' i..,3oiiociousness that precludes all serious thought
about eternal realities '? Disease clouds the brain and ren-
ders all active mental effort impossible. They are then
beyond the roach of human agency and moral feeling.
"They are like boats with nobody in them, lying at an-
chor, and swinging with the tide. Whichever way you
push them they go, and then they settle back again. They
say 'Yes' when you wish it, and 'No' when jou wish it.
They yield to everything. The rudder is gone." The man
is so far carried down by the progress of the malady that
there is little hope of helping him to the iSaviour, and even
if the mental fiiculties should be spnred, the dark shadow
of unconsciousness, and the struggle with disease and death
is such, as to make calm preparation for the spiritual world
an exceedingly difficult task. When the poor dying sinner
is full of tossmgs to and fro unto the dawning of day, cry-
ing out in agony, "When shall the night be gone?" and,
as Jo^^ says, " choosing strangling and death rather than

180

THE DYING MALEFACTOR.

life," it is no timo to speak of the need oi ropcntnncc. It
irt only the cliild of God that can retain sweet composure
in sucli an awful moment, and say : •' Oh, Death, where
is thy sting! Oh, Grave, where is thy victory!" Belter
far such a death than even that of the converted malefac-
tor. Well may wo say : " Let me die the death of the
righteous, and let my lust end be like his."

There comes a timo when repentance is impossible.
Keble, the Christian poet, says :

" And is thorc in God's world po droar a placo,
Wli(!ro till! loud, bitter cry ik raised in viiin?
Where tears of jienance conio too hiU> for (,'ruco,
As ou tho viprootcd flower the t^euial rain?

•"Tis even so; tho sovereifjn Lord of souls,

Stores in the dunf,'eon of his houndiess realm,
Each bolt that o'er the sinner vainly rolls,
With gather'd wrath tlie reprobate to whelm.

"Will tho storm hear tho sailor's luteous cry,

Tau{,dit to mistrust, too late, the teniptiiif,' wave;
Wlu^n all around he sees but sea and sky,
A God in an^^er, a self-chosen grave?

•'Tlion may th' unbodied soul in safety fleet

Through tho dark curtains of the world above,
Fresh from the stain of crime; nor fear to meet
Tlic God whom here she would not learn to love."

The Saviour heard the malefactors prayer, though him-
self in the pains of death, and shall he not much more
hear ours, seated as he now is at the right hand of God !
Nay, he gave the penitent far more than he sought. *♦ Lord,
remember vie vheii thou earnest to thy kingdom " was all ho
asked. Christ replies : *• To-day shalt thou be with me in
paradise." It is even eo. Ho is able and willing "to
do for us exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or
think."

DOUBTS.

" But Thomas, ono of tho twelve called Didymns, was not witli thorn
when Ji'sus cumo. The other diseiiiles therefore naul unto him, wo
liavo se(!n tho Lord. But lie said unto tluau, Kxcept I shall see in hiH
hands the print of tho nails, and i)ut my tin^'er into the jn-int of tho
nails, and thrust my hand into his sido, I will not believj." — John xx,
V. 21, 25.

On tho evening of the day of the resurrection, the dis-
ciples were assembled together with shut doors for fear of
tho Jews. The subject of their conversation doubtless waa
tho death and reported resurrection of the Saviour. Mary
Magdalene was also there, testifying that she had seen tho
Lord and heard his voice, when lo, Jesus himself appears
in their midst, with the cheering salutation •' Peace be unto
You." To put all doubts and fears as to his identity at an
end, he shows them his nail pierced hands and his spear
thrust side. " Then wore tho disciples glad when they
saw tho Lord."

"to

But Thomas was absent on this the first meeting with
the risen redeemer. Accordingly tho other disciples with
hearts full of joy, conveyed the glad tidings to him, that
they had seen tho Lord. They doubtless expected that
the announcement would send a thrill of delight through
his soul, and that he would greatly rejoice with them over
a risen Saviour. But his reply was very different. "Ex-

182

DOUBTS.

♦1« I'

SI.

li f

:it

sii

copt I shall SCO in his liandH the print of the nails, and put
my linger into the print of tlio nails, and thrust my hantl
into his side, I will not believe." Eight days afterwards,
the disciples were again assembled, Thomas bchig ono of
their number. The Saviour is also with them, to rebuke
the weak faith and unworthy doubts of his erring disciple,
to whom ho addressed the words : '* Reach hither thy hand
and thrust it into my side, and be not taithlcss, but
believing."

However much Thomas is to be censured, we must not
confound his character and conduct, with that of modern
infidels and materialists, who deny the existence of any-
thing beyond the cognizance of the senses. He was no
skeptic in the ordinary sense of the word. Ho was a sin-
cere christian, and firm believer in the Lord Jesus Christ,
possessed of as great love for his person as either of the
apostles. His conduct on this occassion is not to be taken
as the uniform habit of his life ; but rather as one of those
occasional blemishes, which so frequently mar the beauty
of the most eminent christians. To come to a proper
knowledge of his character, wo need to search deeper than
tho surface, and endeavour to understand the working of
his mind. We must ask what gave rise to such a doubt, and
what mental or moral defect in his constitution produced
this tendency to unbelief. That his doubt was real, and
that he was thoroughly concientious, we must admit. His
standing as an accepted disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ
puts this beyond the roach of cavil.

But just here lies our difficulty. So little is said of his
conduct, and the glimpses of his character are so frag-
meutery, that we cannot from such sources explain his

DOUBTS,

188

present action. Wo must rather endeavour to understand
the natnre of the disease, by the treatment prescribed ; wo
must reason from results to causes, and not from causes to
results. Following such a course, wo conclude, that tlio
cause of Ins doubt as to the resurrection of Christ, was duo
to a weak ffuth that pervaded and injured his entire spiri-
tual being. It is wortliy of notice, that our Lord docs not
attempt to remove his doubts by anything hke argument,
or strengthen his faith by force of reasoning, but witli a
tender regard for his weakness rebukes liis conduct, wliilo
at the same time indicating tlie happiness of those who
possess a simple faith. "Blessed are they who have not
seen and yet have believed." This want of faith, or rather
perhaps this trembling uncertain faith, gave colour more
or less to his character and conduct. It produced a spirit
of distrust, and shadowed his mind. It caused uncertainty,
anxiety aiul suspicion, where there should have been noth-
ing but childlike trust and happiness and joy.

his

:ag.

his

Now there arc just such classes to be met with in our
day, and they must be treated as tenderly as was Thomas.
It is not wise to stigmatize every man who doubts as an
infidel or an atheist. It is not enough to know that a man
has doubts — for d(>ul)tR am exceedingly dillicult to define.
I question very much if 'JMiomas conld give a good reason
for his doubt, nor can one out of every ten, who have simi-
lar dinicnUies. "Tlicy flout al)out in llio mind, unsub-
stantial, etiierial essences, studiously avoiding detection
and recognition." You attempt to grasp them, and they
are gone. Just like thu di'cams of a restless night, which
Iiaunt us through the day, but aro withal so shadowy and
unreal, that notliiug is rcmombured but the dim outline of
unconnected thoughts.

•I

184

DOUBTS.

i ■'

' m^

Dreams aro very much the result of a diseased physical
system, and doubts aro tlio consequence of a diseased moral
system. So long as the body remains in an unhealthy
state, neither the mind nor imagination can act normally.
And so in like manner, if the heart is affected, the mind
with all its powers and faculties will refuse to act or judge
impartially. What is needed is a radical cure of the dis-
ease— not the presenting of an antidote to this or that
doubt.

Christians, however, aro very much to blame for such a
condition of mind. To a ccrtahi extent they have tlio
power to banish such doubts and fears, which aro so un-
worthy of discipleship. There may be cases where reso-
lute efforts have been made to attain a stronger grasp of
divine truth, without immediate success, but in the majo-
rity of cases these doubts and difficulties arc fostered by the
mental indolence of Christians, who refuse to examine the
foundations of their faith. It :a not denied but you may
have perplexities and misgivings which other Christians
do not experience. Tho Apostle Thomas had such. But
did he use all the means within his reach to banish his
doubts ? Or did ho not rather by his conduct, give colour
to the belief that he was porfcctly satisfied with his state
of mind, and sought no further light. He had made up
his mind that Christ Avould not rise from the dead, and no
amount of human testimony could shake his conviction.

If not, why was Thomas absent when in tho little upper
room at Jerusalem, Christ appeared to his disciples ? The
Marys had been at the sepulchre late and early. Peter
and John had been there. The grave had been found
open and empty, and the little company had met together
to take counsel as to the future, and comfort each other's

DOUBTS.

185

lioarts. But wliero is Thomas ? In all likelihood ridicnl-
ing thn ideii of a resurrection, — langiiin^' at the rumor that
was Hyinf? hero and there in Jerusalem, that Christ had
risen, and becoming more and more determined in his re-
solution that nothing save an actual manifestation of a
personal Saviour would overcome his unbelief. The other
disciples might bo weak enough to believe the testimony of
the Marys and others who said they had seen and heard
him speak, but ns for him nothing else than contact with
the crucified Messiah would sudico. And so wo read, that
when tlic discii>Ies came to him, fresh from their meeting
with Christ, and announced the resurrection of their Lord,
ho replied : " Except I shall see in his hands the print of
the nails, and put my finger hito the print of tho nails, and
thrust my hand into his side, I will not believo."

jiipper
Tho

iPeter
found
Ijether
ther's

Now there may be some in this congregation, who have
doubts and difliculties in regard to certain important mat-
ters of faith. Those doubts arc in no way connected with
their lovo and attachment to the Saviour, but they cause
them great uneasiness and diminish their joy. Wo ridi-
cule no man for entertaining doubts. We rather honor
him, if he fearlessly utters them, and seeks their removal.
A npirit of investigation is commendable, in all circum-
stances. It is equally criminal for a man to believe with-
out some good reason, as to continue doubtiog, after suf-
ficient evidence has been given. Wo ask no more in re-
gard to scripture, than lliat it be judged by the same rules
that guide us in forming an opinion on matters of profane
history. So regarded, there is not a singlo fact but stands
the crucible of tho most raiimto criticism. Have vou, I
ask, exhausted all lawful means to dissipate your doubts
and confirm your faith ? Have you availed yourselves of

186

DOUBTS.

the counsel of pious friemls? Or liavo you, liko Thomas,
refused to meet with Christian ))rt'thron, whoso larger ac-
qaaintanco with divino things fit them to be masters in
Israel ; — who have seen what you have not seen, and ex-
perienced what you have not experienced ? Nay, have you
not again and again most unreasonably cast away the most
conclusive evidence in regard to the esser.tials of Christi-
anity— evidence which in regard to anything clso but tlio
divinity of Christ, would bo held sufliciont to convince the
most sceptical.

To doubt regarding fundamental truths, when amplo
evidence is furnished, is not only foohsh but dangerous.
In regard to scripture, if we doubt one jiart wo may as
well doubt all. For scripture is not a scries of isolated
statements and propositions, the work of irresponsible men
and depending entirely upon human testimony. But it is
directly inspired by God — vouched for as infallibly true in
every particular, and so hangs together, that if wo drop
one link we break the whole chain. Take as an illustra-
tion of our meaning, the case before us. Let a man liko
Thomas doubt or deny tho doctrine of the resurrection,
and with it the whole scheme of redemption falls to the
ground. This is tho argument of the Apostle Paul in tho
fiftennth chapter of first Corinthians. "If Christ be not
risen, then is our preaching vain, and your faith is also
vain. Yea, and we arc found false witnesses of God ; bo-
cause wo have testified of G od that he raised up Christ ;
whom he raised not up, if so be that the dead rise not.
For if the dead rise not, then is not Christ raised ; and if
Christ be not raised, yoiT faith is vain ; yo arc yet in your
sins." Denial of the resurrection of Christ is thus a giving
up of the entire scheme of Christianity.

DOUBTS.

187

But Btill further. Such doubts, however innocent they
may at first sight appear, lead to gross materiaUsm. If a
man must behove nothing but what comes under the per-
ception of his senses, he may at once witlidraw from so-
ciety. Wo cannot take a single step, without encounter-
ing facts and historical events which must bo received by
faith. If a principle is good for anything, it will bear car-
rying out in all its details. If then, wo are not to believe
in the existence of anything, save what is patent to the eye,
wo must deny the existence of a God — the immortality of
the soul — all the events that have happened during the last
six thousand years, and many of the wonderful discoveries
of science, which call forth the admiration of intelligent
men. In a word, tuere is nothing left for us but infidelity
and atheism of the grossest kind.

I do not say that this is the result in all cases, nor that
Thomas would have lapsed into utter skepticism, even had
he been left in doubt for a time as to the reality of Clu'ist's
resurrection. But this is the legitimate tendency of a
a doubting frame of mind. There are lamentable in-
stances on the page of history, where noble minds have
been shrouded in gloom through their entire existence ;
hopelessly weakened and lost in the maze of doubt and un-
belief, by one false step at the outset of their rehgious life.

What, then, is the remedy for doubting ? It is true,
that in the case of Thomas, palpable evidence was given of
a risen Saviour. '* Ecach hither thy linger and behold my
hands ; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my
side ; and be not faithless, but believing." But the Saviour,
Tvhile affording him ocular demonstration of his having
risen from the dead, does not compliment him on his in-
credulity. On the contrary, he rebukes him for his persis*

168

D01TBT3.

ijl

tont anil unrcabonablo unbuliof. •* lilodHod arc tlioy that
have not hocu, and yet Iiavc bcliovcd." Thero ia a bettor
way of gaining' a knowledge of divine things than by tho
teatimony of the aonKcs. There are certain grand princi-
ples and primary beliefs deep seated in tho Inunan consti-
tution, which lio beyond the region of historical testimony.
Men must have a certain amount ofliiith to begin with, else
they can make no progress in divine attain inonts. A basis
must be hud before reason can begin to exercibc her pow-
ers. The humblest believer in Christ's kingdom, who
thankfully accepts the record of a crucified and risen
Baviour, is thus far in advjinco of tho acute and learned
rationalist, who doubts and speculates regarding the truths
of Christianity, and has no fixed belief concerning the fu-
ture, with all its momentous and overwhelming issues.

••Blessed arc they that liavc not seen and yet liavo be-
lieved." AVhy ? Does Christ altogether ignore the testi-
mony of the senses ? By no means, in their proper
sphere they are of tho greatest importance. Does ho en-
courage a lielpless dependent spirit of belief that takes
everything for granted, without investigation? Not so.
ChristiaLuty everywhere appeals to the convictions and can-
did judgment of men, confident that in ])roportion as her
claims are honestly weighed and her doctrines examined,
so will be her power over men's heart and conscience. But
there are matters regarding which faith and faith alone
must decide ; where neither the senses nor the reason can
satisfy the questionings of the soul, and concerning which
they are incapable of giving forth an absolute response.
•• The natural man receiveth not the things of tho spirit of
God ; for they are foolishness unto hnn : neither can ho
know them, becauso they ore spiritually discerned. But

DOUBTS.

18U

Ood hath rovoalod them unto ur fnj hintpirit ,- for tho spirit
Bearcheth all thiugs, yoa, tho deep things of God."

be-

csli-
Dper

en-
ikcs

so.
ican-

her

|llO(],

But
lone
can
lich
use.
it of
ho
But

Christianity docs not propose to give tlio ovidenco of
sight in order to a hearty iicccptancoofhor doctrines. In-
deed if the evidonco which tho Apostle Thoniaw drmiindod
Imd been essential to tho exercise of an intelligent faith,
tho Church of Christ would have diod with tho Apostles.
If in order to believe in tho Saviour, it were nocessary to
put our finger into the print of tho nails, there could bo <»n
believers on tho earth. It was never intended that the
Church should be increased and her members multiiiliod,
by a succession of miracles, but by tho constant agency of
the Holy Spirit, convincing men inuardbj of the reality of
Christ's death and the allprovailiug efficacy of his inter-
cession in heaven. Such a faith in tho life and death,
resurrection and mediation of Christ in heaven, far sur-
passes the faith of Thomas. As faith without sight is more
difficult, so it is nobler and more reliable. It depends not
upon mere external circumstances, but upon tho universal
wants of humanity. It is not because wo have seen Christ
in tho flesh or hanging upon tho cross ; or witnessed liis
wondrous deeds and listened to his marvellous discourses,
that wo accept him as our Saviour. But because our spir-
itual instincts at once recognize him as very God and very
man ; — because the grand truths which ho illustrated in
his life and death commend thomselves as satisfying tho
yearnings of our sonls, and reveal to our astonished gaze
those awful mysteries which until his advent wore undis-
covered by the loftiest minds. •' Whom having not seen
ye love ; in whom, though now ye see him not, yet believ-
ing, ye rejoice witli joy unspeakable and full of glory : lio-
ceiving the end of your faith, even the salvation of your

190

DOUBTS.

souls." •* No matter how far we may dwell from the places
hallowed by his footsteps and his griefs, or how distant our
ago from that in which he dwelt among men in mortal
form, we do not regret that we did not see him face to
face, nor feel that our spiritual advantages are inferior to
theirs. Our faith is richer and stronger, because built upon
a perception of the principles and purposes of Christ's re-
deeming love. Ho is more precious, and his redemption
more real to us, through the communion and sympathy of
our spirits with him, than if wo had thrust our fingers into
the print of the nails."

li t!^

jit

t)A

■ i-tt

And therefore, says the Apostle, in perfect harmony with
Christ's language to Thomas, "we walk by faith, not by
siyht." " This faith," he says, " is the substance of things
hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. We look not
at the things which are seen, but at the things which are
not seen ; for the things which are seen are temporal,
but the things which are not seen are eternal." And
this faith produces love to the absent and unseen Sa-
viour, of which mere face to facf vision is not suscep-
tible. Human love is a fitful thing, even in the presence
of the object loved. Absence and distance intensifies
and purifies. Love that springs from afiinily of souls is
more stable than that which depends solely upon the out-
ward person. Thus in the case of the unseen Saviour,
there is nothing to detract from our conception of his di-
vine excellence. The human elements arc no longer pres-
ent to divide our thoughts. We are the better able to grasp
the infinite value of his work, as not limited to any age or
locality. Faith brings him near and makes him real, and
clothes him with matchless attributes, which are all exer-
cised on behalf of the behever. It intensifies the thought

DOUBTS.

191

of reunion, and gilds the future with the promise of deliv-
erance from sin and a glorified union with Christ. Thus
as the poet beautifully says :

" Christ t<^ love as ono wo know,
Conntitutes the joy below ;
Christ to see as one wo love.
Constitutes the bhsa above."

Christ's mode of dealing with Thomas, shows us how
we are to treat the doubts and unbelief of weak believers.
In some cases they deserve our sympathy — in no case our
anger. Such persons are found more or less in all con-
gregations. Possibly they have been trained in the modern
schools of materialsts and rationalists, who believe only.

in the testimony of the senses, and ignore all supernatural
impulses. Such persons find it hard at first to submit
their reason to the guidance of God's Holy Spirit. They
say like Thomas : •' Except I shall see in his hands the
print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the
nails, I will not believe." But how gentle and conde-
scending is Christ, and how willing to remove our unworthy
doubts. ** Reach hither thy finger and behold my hands,
and reach hither thy hand and thrust it into my side, and
be not faithless but believing." The result is a noble
confession of Christ's divinity, and a recognition of his
claims to the homage of every soul : " My Lurd and my

odr

Lot such as arc troubled with doubts not despair of com-
ing to the light. When the heart is right, intellectual
belief will follow. The moral consciousness directs the
coiulupt of the life and the conclufiions of tlio judgment,
" If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine,
whether it be of God." " If any of you lack wisdom, let
him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and up-

192

DOUBTS.

braideth not : and it shall be given him." It is not the
will of heaven tliat any of his children should go through
life uncertain and undecided as to the foundation of their
faith. For wise ends temporary darkness is at times per-
mitted to cloud the inner vision, but at last there is the
clear shining of the sun.

^^1

ai'

'^ if

ll!"

i«!

" For all thy rankling doubts so sore,
Love thou thy Saviour still,
Him for thy Lord and God adore,

And ever do his will.
Though vexing thoughts may seem to last,
Let not thy soul be quite o'ercast ; —
Soon will he show thee all his wounds' and say,
' Long have I known thy name — know thou my face alway.'
Thy God hath said, ' 'Tis good for thee.
To walk by faith, and not by sight ;'

Take it on trust a little while;
Soon shalt thou read the mysteiy right,

In the full sunshine of his ymilo.'

-., i

the
•ugh
heir
per-

the

BEHOLD THE LAMB.

" Behold the Lamb of God which takcth away the sin of the wojld '"
— Jolin 1st, V. 29.

If there be one truth more clearly asserted in the word
of God than another, and more universally responded to
by conscience, it is that all men are fallen beings. Apart
from Scripture we know nothing of the origin of evil ; but
the fact that evil does exist in the world, and that every
man is a partner in depravity is universally acknowledged
by all honest men. It matters little what name is given
to this sad change which has taken place in our moral na-
ture. Men may object to the term " total depravity,'" and
deny the doctrine of the imputation of sin, and yet after
all there remains a sense of lostness and of moral ruin.

Along with this consciousness of sin tlicro is tln' all but
iniiversal feeling that men are responsible for tlieir sint-.
However little we may understand that mysterious eoiuicf-
tion between Adam and his j)osterity, in virtue of ^\hich
we inherit his sin and punishment, there are few who do
jiot tremble ms they look forward to a day of judgment,
when tlie actions of the hfe shall be reckoned u]) and ad-
judicated at the bar of heaven. Even did we grant for th»'
sake of argument that there is no such thing as original
sin, and that men ar«> born as pure and perlVct as wa<
Adam when he came forth from his Maker' b handb, where

15M

HKHOLD THE LA.MH.

ill

III!

?i;i

is the individual who is not ready to acknowledge nume-
!ou8 and aggiavated transgressions of God's law, from the
first exercise of reason on through the riper years of man-
hood '? And if we have been born untainted and undefiled,
whence the universal tendency to sin that exists in every
human being ?

But not only is there this consciousness of moral ruin.
There is in addition a ^^idely prevalent belief that men
thus condemned and fallen can never of themselves atone
for the sins of the past, or hve a hfe of holiness hi the
future. For even were the sins and shortcomings of the
past blotted out, and the debt of sin, original and actual,
cancelled, liow long could wo retai'* this innocence ? Not
for a single day — not for a sinj, hour ! We appeal to
every candid hearer. Have you not at certain periods of
your life, when overwhelmed with a sense of fearful guilt,
endeavoured in the excjrcise of a ^^Tongly conceived of
moral power, to live a better life and tict in rigid conform-
ity to the law of Ciod '? And have you not just as often
most completely failed in every attempt after personal
righteousness '.' And when i)) these moments of solemn
concern for the interests of your soul you have realized
how helpless men arc either to atone for the past or Hve
uprightly in the future, and how inliexible is the law of
God in its demands and penalties, is it wonderful that the
cry should arise : " O, wietclied man that 1 am, who shall
deliver me from the body of this death '? "'

This univtrHiil consciousness of sin is proved by the tes-
limony of history. In i-egions of the globe where men
he- ^ver seen tlio Bibk — born into the world and living
in • world ignorant of Christian ethics and civihzation —
thero are tc be found indicationb of this general behef in

BEBULD THE LAMU.

195

fallen nature, iu our accountability as responsible agentn,

and our utter inability to justify ourselves at tlie bar of a

convicting conscience. Whence this harmony between
conscjousness and Scripture ? Is it not as tlie Apostle
says, " Not having the law they are a law unto themselves ;
the work of the law being ^vritten in their hearts, their
conscience also bearing witness, and then* thoughts the
meanwhile accusing or else excusing one anotlier. "

Now, turning from this record of conscience to the re-
cord of inspiration, we find not only the same great truths,
but are also told how man the sinner may be; saved, while
his sin is punished. At the very moment of the fall, thr
promise of salvation was made to Adam, ancj symbolized by
the shedding of blood, which indicated the method of pardon.
The countless sacrifices offered in succeeding ages wei*-
not unmeaning ceremonies. They were all so many types,
in some cases doubtless but dimly and feebly uppreliended,
but still understood })y many Old Testament believerh.
These sacrificial ofterings indicated that in the future his-
tory of fallen humanity tlicro should be pro\ idcd n way of
escape from the penalties of a broken law. tlirou.ijli tlie
blood of atonement. What means that toucliiui,' spectacle
exhibited again and again at the dooi- of the tabernacle
before the wonder stricken Israelites ? Tlicir stands th(^
priest, and near him an innocent victim. Before the strok*-
of death is inflicted he lays his hand upon its head, and
over it confesses his own and tlie peo))les sin. By this act
a transfer of guilt is made, and the sui remov(!(l from tin-
believing Jew. But of what avail, it may be asked, the
shedding of such blood'.' Can sheeji or oxen beai away
the sins of immortal soids and cleanse the guilt of human-
ity '? " It is not possible that the blood of bulls or of j^outN

lUU

BKH(JL1J THE LAMli.

})■ '■

III

flhould take away sins." These sacrifices pointed the eye

of fuitli to another sacrilice and another \'ictim, who in the

fullness of time should be offered to take away the sins of
the world. Mount Moriah was but the shadow of Mount
Calvary ; the High Priest entering once a year into the
Holy of Hohes was the type of him who, combining in his
own person sacrifice and intercessor, should pass within
the veil to secure pardon and peace for all his people.

The character and work of Christ is variously stated in
the Word of God. The Jew was more familiar with the
figure of a bleeding lamb than perhaps any other. He
had connected with it his best hopes of pardon, and looked
upon it as typical of the mysterious sufferings of the Mes-
siah. Many doubtless as at the present day never passed
beyond the symbol ; but others looked forward to the com-
ing of Israel's promised deliverer and the world's redeemer.
The prophet Isaiah under the figure of a lamb sets forth
the character nud humiliation of Christ. "He was op-
pressed, and he was afflicted ; yet he opened not his
mouth ; lie is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a
sheep before his shearers is dumb, so he openctli not his
mouth."' Such language most fittingly sets forth the per-
fect humanity of the Son of Man. Guileless and guiltless,
pure in thought and immaculate in action, without the
sinful infirmities of humanity, meek and patient under
(!ruel mockeries and brutal insults, bearing with unrepin-
ing resignation the shameful indignities of his enemies,
and praying for them while he drank the cup of vengeance
— such was the Lamb of God. When the words of our text
were spoken the days of shadows and symbols were nearly
passed. John the Baptist had appeared, the herald of a
coming Saviour. He came not to offer sacrifices like the

•iMi

BKHOLD THK LAMH.

197

priests of old, but to preach the necessity of repentance
and faith in Christ in order to salvation. His work was
now nearly ended. A greater than John had appeared,
whose shoe's latchet he was not worthy to unloose. To
him he now points the Jew as the hope of the nation and
the hope of the world : " Behold the Lamb of God, which
taketh away the sin of the world." In this brief sentence
we have set before us the whole scheme of redemption, the
fact of the fall, the misery of the fall, and the means ap-
pointed by God for our recovery.

Two things claim attention in the text :

I. The design of Christ's death — " To take away the sin
of the world."

II. Our duty and privilege as sinners — " Behold the
Lamb."

Many other passages of Scripture assert the same truth,
that Christ came to take away the sin of the world. " God
so loved the world that he gave his only begotton son, that
whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have
everlasting life." "This is a faithful saying, and worthy
of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to
save sinners, of whom I am chief." " The blood of Jesus
Christ his Son cleauseth us from all sin." Now, what is
the plain meaning of such passages ? Just these two
things : that the atonement made by Christ is sufi'u'ient to
save the world — the whole world from sin ; and further,
that this salvation purchased by Christ is offered fully and
freely to every man. There is but one requisite — faith in
the power of the atonement and a sense of personal need,
such is the simple teaching of the text in regard to this
important matter, and yet there never has been a question

'■f \

198

HKHOLU THK LAMB.

II;' If

:»

'<il

enveloped in greater myHtery or darkened by such conflict-
ing interpretations. Nowhere is it stated, as some allege,
that because Christ died for the world all men will be saved

through the death of Christ. The text indeed teaches that
the design of Christ's death was to take away the sins of
the world, but it does not follow that all men will avail
themselves of tlie full and free offer of salvation that has
been made to a guilty race. It is only such as believe in
Him who inherit eternal life. Nor is it anywhere asserted
that man can do nothing whatever in the matter of his
salvation. In every declaration of Scripture that sets forth
the work of Christ there is a loud call made upon men to
co-operate with the Holy Spirit. The gospel, which makes
offer of pardon, recognizes man's freedom to accept or re-
ject the offer, and holds him to a strict accountability for
his choice. " Work out your own salvation with fear and
trembling ; for it is God which worketh in you both to will
and to do of his good pleasure. " "Ye will not come to
me that ye miglit have life." " As many as received him
to them gave he power to become tlie sons of God, even to
them that believe on his name." Just as in the natural
world, so in the spiritual, agencies are employed and means
put into operation in order to secure given ends. Just as
soon may w^e expect the sun and rain from heaven to cover
our fields with grain without the labor of seed-sowing, as
expect a radical change of heart and life apai*t from indi-
vidual effoi't. Those who remain callous and indifl'erent
under the appeals of mercy cannot inherit eternal life.

The text then sets before us the gi'eat object of Christ'b
death — to take away the sin of the world. Not simply to
set us an example that we should foUow after what is pure
and praiseworthy, nor to make salvation possible, nor to

HKHULD TUE LAMB.

infuse into human society a conservative and regenerating
element, by which, in process of time, the world might be
restored to something of its former condition ; but at once
to provide a remedy for all the sorrows and sufferings of
men. He takes away sin and its consequences ; all the
woes entailed upon us in virtue of our connection with the
first Adam are removed through the second Adam, the
Lord from heaven.

Our duty and privilege as sinners is to " behold the
Lamb. "

The command is universal, witliout distinction of age
race or color. It is a simple act, yet how all important
and blessed in its results ! Every Jew who looked to the
brazen serpent uplifted in the wilderness was cured, and
every sinner who looks with the eye of faith to Christ shall
live.

" So from the Saviour on the cross

A healing virtue flows ;
Who looks to him with lively faith
Is saveil from endless woes."

What did John mean by saying " Behold'?" A mere
look of itself is worthless. Many saw Christ on the cross,
but instead of receiving pardon, that look sealed their con-
demnation. To look is tc believe the fact stated, that
Christ takes away the sin of the world — to accept the oft-
repeated statement of Scripture that he is able and willing
to save all who come to him in (iod's own appointed way.
We cannot like the Jews of old see the Saviour with the
natural eye. He is now hidden from our vision, and the
time of his second manifestation is not come. But even
now the inferior vision of faith is not less blessed. Belief
in the abstract doctrine of the diviuity uud iaoarnatioa of

2U0

HKIIOLL) THE LAMB.

Cbrist may be held most firmly, without auy serious con-
cern about the welfare of the soul. It is easy to accept
the creed of an orthodox church and yet have no personal
interest in the truths that compose that creed. There ara
thousands who sorrowfully mourn over the fall, and lament
the misery that exists in the world, an I rejoice in the bless-
ings of Christianity, who yet feel nothing of their need of
Christ. Because they live comparatively moral lives they
cannot regard the atonement as adapted to their case.
Tbey ignore the uniform testimony of Scripture that there
is no earthly consideration, nor moral purity nor integrity
tliat can stand any man in room of Christ's impp**»d
ris^hteousness. Having this, virtues adorn the character ;
without it, while they may be graceful, they are worthless
to their possessor.

Many in our day pity the poor blinded Jew who refuses
to acknowledge Christ as the promised Messiah, and the
heathen who possess not the gospel, — and yet their own
condition is infinitely more criminal. Light has come
into the world, but they prefer the darkness to the light.
The cross has been uplifted and evory appliance used to
turn tlic'ir eyes to Calvary, but still they refuse to behold
the Lamb. A tirat is coming wlien such shall look upon
Him. " Every eye shall see him, and they also which
pierced him." Thoy shall say to the rocks, "Fall on us
anil hide us from the face of hnn that sittetli on the throne,
and from the wrath of the Lamb."

This Saviour, now so frequently rejected and despised,
shall ultmiately bo enthroned in the hearts of millions and
receive the adoration and praise of the entire universe of
intelligent being. In the Book of Revelation the four and
twenty elders are represented as casting their crowns be-

. I

BEHOLD THE LAMB.

201

le,

fo*'.'^ ih^ th'^on'^. Om IHco unto tho S-in of mnn ii q'>'^n

si'tin j upon a \^ Uit'j cl'U<l, liaviiij <in liis li'ii'l a :;'»Mui
crown ; and yet, again it is paiu, ■ On his head were many
crowns." These crowns denote completed victory, supreme
dominion and eternal honours. " At the name of Jet-ua
every knee shall bow, of thinj^s in heaven and things in
earth, and things under tho earth." The saints wear
crowns in heaven, but their highest service consists in
placing these crowns upon the head of Jesus, and crying :
"Worthy is the Lamb." The J3abe of Bethlehem is now
exalted — he who lay in the manger, and hung upon the
accursed tree, now wields the sceptre of the universe. His
empire is from sea to sea, and from the river to the end of
the earth. " He sits upon the throne of all the ancient
empires and imperial sovereignties, and all the crowns of
the earth meet upon the head of him who once wore a crown
of thorns, and died a malefactor's death." The world shall
then crown him. No nation shall be exempted. Tho scat-
tered Jews shall come together and acknowledge the regal
claims of our Immanucl, as gladly as when in other days
they bowed the knee to David. Heathen lands that now
disown his sway, and despotic kings that dispute his power,
shall rival each other in exaltmg his name and spreading
his fame. •' The kuigs of Tarshish and the Isles shall
bring presents ; tlie kings of Shcba and Scba shall oflfer
gifts. Yea, all kings j-hall fall down before him, all nations
shall serve him." Towards this glorious issue events in
providence are converging. Christ's authority is daily be-
coming more extended in the world, and the number of his
willing subjects indefinitely increased. Heathen monarchs
are gi-adually yielding submission to his scejotre, and en-
joying the geuial inliueuces of Chnstian't/. Literature,
sdonae and philosophy, too long the aJvorsarios of tlie tmth,

aos

BKHOLD THR LA.tfB.

i! It

now bring their conti'ibutionH and lay them at the feet of
our Immanuel, and put forth their nohloHt efl'orts to Hwell
the hymn of universal praiHo. Nay, infuh^lity itself, that
for ages has with bluspluniouH ifTr(int.;ry aspersed his holy
hfe, now joins with Clnistian tonj^'ues in eulogising his vir-
tues and sliouting his praise above earth's grandest and
mightiest heroes.- Listen to such an one as he thus dis-
courses of the Saviour of men. "This sublime i)erson,
who each day presides over the destinies of the world, wo
may call divine, Whatever be the surprises of the future,
Jesus will never be surpassed. His history will call forth
tears without end. His sufVerings will melt the noblest
hearts. All ages will proclaim that among the sous of
men there is none born greater than Jesus. " When inti-
dehty thus speaks of him who c.ime to take away the sina
of the world, may we not anticipate a speedy and univeisal
acknowledgement of his claims, while in the poet's words
we say : —

" Oh ! that tho months would roll away,
And bring the coronation day :
The King of grace shall fill the throne,
With all his father's glories on.'"

hi <;i

till

Finally, we learn from this subject what is the great
work of the Preacher — to point dying sinners to the Lamb
of God. Behold the Lamb, that you may understand the
nature of sin and the price paid for redemption. Be-
hold the Lamb, that you may enjoy peace of conscience
and assurance of pardon. Behold the Lamb, that you may
receive strength to bear up under the ills of life. It often
seems a fruitless labour to point sinners to the Saviour,
But, despise us as thoy may, we must Lift up the cross.
"We must pursue the most inveterate opponent of the
gospel with the same importunate and agonizing cry, 'Be*

DEBOLD THE LAMH.

208

hold, behold the Lamb of God 1 ' Let that cry follow him

wherever he may bido bimfe>elf. Let that call reach him at
bis table and his fireside, his closet and his chamber, iu
his place of business and his haunts of dissipation. Let it
mingle with bis music and bis jovial laughter, Let the
ratthng of bis dice box and tbe clink of his dishonest
gains be still drowned by the ccbo of tbe distant cry, ' Be-
hold, behold.' And though he still continue to despise it,
let it ring in his ears upon his dying bed. and let the last
look of his fading eye be invited to the cross by that same
word, * Behold ! Behold I ' And though he die despising
it, he shall not cease to bear it, for that word shall ring in
his ears when his illusions are dispelled for ever. When
his soul, before it takes its final plunge, shall see the ob-
jects which it once despised, arrayed in all tbeir excellence
and glory, and, in spite of its endeavors to avert its gaze,
shall be compelled to see them as it would not sec them
here, then — then shall that despised call bo the last sound
that strikes upon his failing sense — " Jiehold the Lamb of
God that taketh awav the sin of the world.'

the
'Be.

What, believing hearers, are the feelings awakened in
your souls by this wouJrous love of (Jhrist in dyiug to take
away the sin of the world '? Such a deliverance surely de-
mands perpetual admiration and fondo.st gratitude. When
military heroes gather round the festive board to com-
memorate signal victories in which they have borne an
humble part, they nre never weary of oxtoUing the valor
and sci. denial of their commander, by whoso genius and
bravery they conquered ; all the more so if, in gaining the
mastery, the commander has sacrificed his life on the altar
of patriotism. Years may fade into the past, but his me-
mory is ever fragrant, while his spirit seems to hover over

204

BEHOLD THE LAMB.

them and inspire them to greater deecis of daring. So it
should be with us. Christ shed his blood not in the cause
of empire, but on behalf of guilty and rebellious man.
Shall we have less enthusiasm and emotion than mere
secular assemblies, when gathered arou A the memorials
of love incomprehensible and unequalled ? Shall no tears
of heavenly joy trickle down our cheeks as we recall the
grandest of all human events, which fills the minds of an-
gels, and shall throughout eternity employ our tongues ?

3o it

ause
nan.
Here
rials
iears
the
■ an-

CHANGES AND CHASTISEMENTS.

•' Moab bath been at ease from his youth, and he hath settled on
his lees, and hath not been emptied from vessel to vessel, neither hath
ho gone into captivity : therefore his taste remained in him, and his
Bcent is not changed."— Jeremiah 48, v. 11.

Illustrations from the vineyard and wiue making abound
in Scripture. The Jews were well acquainted with the
process, and many of them were engaged in the business.
After the grapes were gathered, and the juice fermented,
it passed through a process that separated the pure liquid
from any sediment or impurities that it contained ; the
impurities thus segregated settling as lees in the bottom of
the vessel. If the wiue however, stood long in the vat
that contained the refuse or the dregs, it partook of a coarse
and unpleasant flavour, the strong scent of the lees im-
pregnating the wine, and rendering it less valuable and
choice. To obviate such a result, the wine was drawn off
from the larger vats into smaller jars, and again and again
changed from vessel to vessel until every particle of im-
purity was removed, and the wine so refined and purified,
as to be fit for use. This throws Hght upon another pas-
sage in the prophe?ies of Isainh, where the gospel feast is
likened to a rich and sumptuous banquet. '• And in this
mountain shall tlie Lord of Hosts make unto all people a
feast of fat things, a feast of wine on the lees, of fat things
full of marrow, of wines on the lees well-refined."

206

OBAMaBS AND OHASTIBEMENXe.

■i-'

The chapter from which Lhe text is taken is filled with
denunciations of Moab. The history of that kingdomi
from the period when the Israelites wandered in the wil-
derness down to the prophecy of Jeremiah, is interesting to
every Bible student. Moab had for a long period enjoyed
unmingled prosperity ; but this prosperity had proved a
curse, rather than a blessing to tiie nation. Like the wine
settltd on the lees, he had rested quietly in the possession
of and the enjoyment of power, and in threats of defiance
towards weaker nations, without meeting with any signal
reverses to humble his spirit or lessen his pride. The re-
sult was continued and increasing forgetfulness of God,
indulgence in idolatry, and the exercise of oppression and
tyranny towards all who came within reach of his autho-
rity. Now, says the prophet, a change is coming. His
period of ease and selfish indulgence is nearly over. He
must be taught by judgments and chastisements that there
is a God who rules in the heavens. He must be brought
to feel sore adversities and pass through troubled waters
— changed from one condition to another, as the wine is
poured out of one vessel into another, that at last he may
renounce his sins and acknowledge his errors.

. c

As it was with Moab, so has it been with almost every
other nation on the face of the earth that for a long period
has enjoyed unbroken peace. It is neither good for men
or nations to be exempt from conflict and trial. War is
bad, and political insurrections and rebellions are bad, but
far worse is it, when a nation is so hopelessly demoralized
as to lack the courage to battle for the right. Take the
map of Europe and you will find that those nations that
have become really great and noble — that have become the
leaders of civilization and exhibited the highest virtues, ara

OHAKOES AND OHASTISEUENTS.

207

just those that have fought against the most obstinate ene-
mies, and overcome the most formidable hindrances ere

they reac^ ed their present eminence. Take Great Britain
as an example. Again and again from time immemorial
she has been plunged into war, her armies decimated and
her colors dyed in blood. And yet, to-day she stands the
most invincible ami enviable nation on the earth. As the
world is now constituted, strange and humbling though it
be, it seems that long periods of peace foster national cor-
ruption and social degeneracy. Its needs turmoil and agi-
tation — sacrifice and self-denial, to bring out the sterner
and loftier impulses of humanity, and prevent it from
sinking to the very depths of infamy.

No nation was over subjected to such severe providences
as the Israelites. UuHke Moab they were emptied from
vessel to vessel, and finally sent into captivity, in order to
break them off from idolatrous worship, and purge out the
sensual elements of their nature. God's own chosen peo-
ple though thoy were, their Ufe from first to last was any-
thing but one of rest and calm. Comfortably settled in
Goshen, and imagining a long period of undisturbed leisure
in pursuing their agricultural and pastoral hft^, they were
soon awakened from their dream of pleasure by the horrors of
Egyptian slavery, and the outrageous cruelty of Pharoah'a
taskmasters, who afiiicted tlieu- souls by oppression and
gaUing burdens. Escaped from bondage, their life for
forty years in the wilderness was one continued conflict
with hostile tribes. And when they had ( ntered Canaan,
and taken possession of their long promised inheritance,
their trials were far from ended. In the time of the
Judges and under their Kings, with the exception of David
and bulomou, thoi'u wau contiiiuocL ixivuit aud lubUiTcution,

i^^:

208

OHANaES AND CHASTISEMENTS.

t i

•wh'di kept the notion heavin / nnrl feimenting ns on the
brink of a volcano. Then came 'he period of the Septra-
tion of the tribes, and finally the seventy years captivity,
when, broken in heart, and despoiled of all their worldly
substance, they wept by the waters of Babylon as tiiey
thought of Zion. Now, all these clianges were decreed in
order to purge Israel from the abominations which they
were liable to contract in mingling with heathen nations,
and from the natural evil tendencies of the human heart.
And Hltbough to this day they are peeled and scattered
and fraL'mentary, wandering all over the world, without a
sanctuary and a home, the nation has bi en effectually
cured of idolatry, and is now more prepared than ever to
receive the pure religion of the Messiah.

There are many important applications of the subject, a
few of which we shall notice.

I. Long continuance in worldly prosperity is adverse to
spiritual growth. Few men can maintain an active Chris-
tian life if overburdened with the anxieties of business,
and intoxicated witi) the surroundings of wealth. One
here and there stands out prominent, who by reason of
special grace is kept from ao undue devotedness and at-
tachment to mat' rial good; but the great mass of men
who are reckoned the world's millionaires, are destitute
of Christian principle and vital piety. There was a time
in the history of many such, ^Yhf ii they gave a large mea-
sure of attention to religious subjects, and disbursed most
hberally according to their means for Christian institu-
tions ; but in proportion to their success has been their
covetousness, and in proportion to their covetousness of
worldly goods has been their withholding from the treasury
of the Lord. Long periods of time wUl change the softest
material eubstauo© into the hai-dost rook, and repeated

CHANGES AND CHASTISEMENTS.

209

years of immiiiL^'lccl wordly prosperity can petrify the hu-
man lieart and render it dead to all the gentler and kindlier
affections of hnmanity. And what is true of unconverted
men is just as true within certain limits of God's children.
Such a state of moral and s[uritual deadness is perhaps
impossible to any regenerated soul, but the increase of
riches can and does stint the growth of Christian graces to
such an extent, as reni]ors tlie most capable and efficient
men all but useless in the Church of Cluist. The human
soul is susceptible of just so much application and no-
thing more. No man, though possessed of the versatility
and diversified talents of an angel, can throw the same in-
tense and burning energy into tho discharge of secular and
sacred duties. The excess manifested in the one will di-
minish the zeal that is due to the other. The constant
handling of tangible wealth unfits the soul for grasping
the spiritual but imperishable riches of heaven. This fact
is duly recognized in scripture, and is the reason why, in
every case of prominent piety, we find repeated crosses
and changes ; a transplanting of the affections ere they
had time to grow too strong in any one locality, or around
any one object ; a thwarting of plans and schemes which,
to human conception, seemed certain of yielding large re-
turns and affording unbounded wealth. We wonder why
it is that the world is so unequally divided. We often say
that if such gooil men had but the means possessed by
others, they would vastly benefit and bless society. We
forget that their comi>arative poverty and lowliness of
estate is the secret of theii- spirituality. Give them the
success and riches that other men possess, and like Moab,
settled on the lees, unemptied from vessel to vessel, the car-
nal delights of earth would overshadow the eternal enjoy-
ments of the future.

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CHANGES AND CHASTISEMENTS.

I think this method of God's dcahngs with f^ood men
throws light upon what wc arc apt to call that unfortu-
nate class of business men, who are to be found in every
community. There are some men of the purest intentions,

of the most upright character and lionom-able name who
never succeed in anything they undertake. Others appar-
ently of far less business habits, and cer^^ninly of far less moral
principle, win the day in the race for riches. We say of such,
they mistook their calling — they began at the wrong time —
they had nottlic means or facilities of rivals — they had too
much faith in society, when, in many cases, it was the
direct will of Providence that they were not to succeed.
In this life, perhaps, they think it hard thus to be tossed
about and emptied from vessel to vessel — to give up all
they have amassed to maintain their credit and their
honest name — to begin life anew so often, and never make
any substantial progress. But in tlie other sphere they
will have cause to thank God that they experienced just
such changes and such misfortunes. "Every branch that
beareth fruit, Ik; [)urgeth it, that it may bring forth more
fruit."

M
ft**

II. The changes and advert* icies that are sent upon as
in the present existeiice are the means of revealing secret
sins of which otherwise we would be ignorant. A house
long undisturbed and uncleansed, h.des in its secret corners
unknown and unsuspected pollutions. The stone upon the
moor long motionless gathers around it not only moss and
fungus, but myriads of insects, and, although it is true
that the Christian's daily prayer should be, "Search me,
God. and know my thoughts ; try ma and know my heart,
:md ;.',e if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in
the way everlasting," there exist latent evils that can only

(

CHANGES AND CHASTISEMENTS.

•211

be discovered and removed by severe visitations of Provi-
dence. In proportion as the Christian Ufe becomes holier
smaller sins afifect its higher experience. As the breath
blown upon the mirror dims the glass and prevents the re-
flection of the countenance, so the vapors of sin that steal
unperceived across the soul obstruct the view of Christ.
To discover these to the sonsciousness of the believer him-
self requu-es severe treatment. The most delicate and
dangerous of surgical experiments are connected with the
organ of vision, and the most difficult achievements in
spiritual pathology are to remove the specks of impurity
that impau" the power of far seeing faith.

We all know that there are conditions of our physical
condition that baffle description. We cannot put our
hand on any one serious complaint but the whole system
seems disjointed and disarranged. There in a languor — a
weariness — an apathy pervading the whole powers of body
and mind. We have no heart for work, no relish for in-
nocent pleasures, no love for Christian communion, no
enthusiasm in what formerly called forth our most eager
efforts. There are just such states in our spiritual life ;
we know not the precise disease, but we see and feel the
effects. Our enjoyment of ordinances is less rapturous
than formerly ; our devotional exercises less elevating and
satisfying : the whole life is sensibly sunk bcucuth tne vital
point of whole-souled consecration to the cause of Christ.
Nor would we ever be conscious of these lurking, hidden
sins that produce such feelings, were not trials and disap-
pointments sent upon us. It requu'es many applications
of God's rod to free us from the presence and power of
such sins, that gnaw out the very substance of our better
nature. And this is what is done with us when God emp-

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CHANGES AND CHASTISEMENTS.

ties us from vessel to vessel, and so unsettles us in life,
that we cry out like David, " All thy waves and billows
are gone over me." Assured, f we are rea ly his cMldren,
that no caamilv is sent without a jMirpose -tjia th chaff
is viiMi' we l'r<in t <■ ulKat n ncieas' lu' \a u and })u-
rityofth' ^.'rai i — that thtMlro s is scjiarafcd from the ^'old
to render th^ precious metal more su-ccptible (tf finer ap-
plica'ions, we be-in to search for ihesse secret defects in our
cliaracter h therto unseen. Eatdi new bhist of afil cti.n
r vca's some unknown evil, until at a^t we stand as-
tonishe i that Ciod should ha^e horno with us so long.
Instead of murmuring that we have pas-ed throngb such
a crisis we feel thankful that our true character hns been
revealed to us, and that we are no Ioniser the victims of
dei-eption, imagining ourselves very near perh ction, when
fatal blemishes and blots stain our souls and mar our mo-
ral beauty.

III. Our final sanctificiition is dependent upon those
changes and trials. They are used by the Holy Spiiit to
separate us entirely fi-om our former attachments. That
the Israe ites were so often changed from place to place in
their wanderings was intended to prevent any inordinate
love of carnal delights. People of God I hough they were,
tbe fit sbpots of Egypt had great value in their t yes. The
power of old habits and old associations remained with
them long after they had left Egypt. They had become
second nature to them. Again and again they fell into
grievous sin, and lapsed into open idolatry, for which they
suffered severe and protracted judgments. And so it is
with the child of God, who at the moment of his conver-
sion is but on the threshold of his better existence. As
the wine standing on the lees must be di-awn off and emp-

CHINGKS AND CHASTISEMENTS.

218

tied from vess' 1 to vessel in order to a complete separation
from the flavour and impure substances that aff<.'Ct it, so
W'' ne d to lie broken off from old associations and fri.'nd-
sliips with our former modes of life and employments. A
Christian is never perfected until the moment of his re-
lease, and every adverseprovidence that comes in liis way,
like the ligiitning flash that purifies tlio air aud dispels ihe
over-hatiuing thunder-cloud, renders him more meet for
the inheritance of the saints in light. Bereavements and
disappointments, broken friendships, unexpected reverses
in fortune, personal afflictions all have this aim— our com-
plete separation from the dregs of sin that are ever at-
tempting more or loss to interrupt the progressive sanctity
of our life.

IV. When thus emptied and shaken we are more sus-
ceptible of heavenly influences. The hard baked earth
must h^' ploughed up before it fittingly receives the seeds
into its bosom, and before the g .'uial, fertilizing showers of
spring can soften and moisten the soil. A similar prepa-
ration is needed in every human heart in order that the
Spirit may carry on his work and perfect us in holiness.
The preaching of the gospel in all cases is not of itself suf-
ficient for this end. Other and more striking calls are
necessary to awaken us to solemn reflection and make us
more sensible of our spiritual wants. The hard nicrusta-
tion of worldly employments must bo broken through, our
settled places and habits violently arrested, and our dearest
idols scattered before the heart becomes tender and recep-
tive of the Spirit's touches. Theu we feel that there is no-
thing sure on earth but the hope of heaven, that everything
is transitory and uncertain but the ever hving God, aud
that no estate on earth is enviable apart from a well

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214

OHANOES AND (JHASTISEMENTB.

grounded assurance of immortality. Many a man through

liis burning tears has gained a knowledge of his Saviour

and his blesst^d sympathy, of which he was hcfore entirely
ignorant, and in moments of misfortune and bereavement,
become possessed of the heart's truest riches, and in times
of defeat and disaster become truly heroic and victorious.
When self and self-will are subjected, and fleshly desires
are mortified and vanity of vanity is written upon all cre-
ated objects, we are prepared for the indwelling of God's
Spirit and the satisfying pleasures that are at God's right
hand.

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And what is true of tlie individual heliever is true of the
Church in her collective capacity. Her periods of declen-
sion and backsliding, of deaduess and darkness, of indo-
lence and inactivity, of heresies and corruptions have been
periods of outward prosperity, when it may be the Church
was fostered by the State, or otherwise resting in a false
security. Such periods are dauk'erous, and are the sure
precusors of sore judgments. Kehgioii has ever flourished
most, and accomplished most, in times of persecution, when
men were driven to make sacrifice in behalf of their faith,
when martyrs and confessors were brought to the stake and
the scaffold, and when the wild moorland and the glens and
caves of earth afforded refuge to God's hidden ones. Piety
and faith and holy enthusiasm grow feeble and stinted in
►such days as ours. Christianity fails to exercise the omni-
potent power she should in the world, because her follow-
ers prefer ease and quiet to faithful testifying for the truth.
They rest contented in their personal privileges, and put
forth no effort and hazard no loss that the world may be
brought to Christ. They prefer a religion that makes little
demand upon their time, and little sacrifice in their com-

CHANGES AND CHASTISEMENTS.

215

forts. They express fear and aliuiii when times of aj^ita-
tion and winnowinp; como in the church and tlic nation,
all whicli are necessary in order to Instinf,' peace and haj)-
piness. It is of the very nature of ('hristianity to mioettlo
and chanj^c men's opinions, to cast out and eradicate
wront^s and evils that curse the world and stain humanity ;
to purify and exalt society, not hy palhating and conniving
at wickedness, but by vif,'orous opposition and open con-
flict. Christ came not to malie peace, but war ; to break-
up house] lolds and brin^,' into antajjfonism the nearest and
dearest of kindred ; to introduce reconciliation l)otween
God and m.an, through conflict and hostility. Wars and
rumours of war there must be, and fueds and contentions
in Church and State, until the world is prepared to receive
its rightful Lord.

com-

If there are any here who have not thus been emptied
from vessel to vessel, let them expect such treatment ere
they close their present probation. Do not become over-
much attached to any spot, any person, any pursuit or
caUing in life. Markets change, titles and title deeds de.
crease in value, bonds and securities perish, fire and flood
and pestilence shake society and loosen confidence in tlie
firmest organizations and institutions. AV'liat does all tliis
teach, but that we are to be pliable and submissive in the
hands of our ]\Iaker ; not to set up our will as the standard
of unerring wisdom, but to follow whithersoever he leads ;
to face submissively what ho appoints — to accept whatever
lie sends. When the vessel is rocking at sea, under tlie
combined force of wind and wave, it is better to inchne the
body to the motion of the vessel than to resist or defy the
elements. And when God is dealing with us severely, it
is the part of wisdom to fall into his arms and confide in

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CHANGES ANI> CIIA8TISEMENTH.

liiH uiifnilinpf pfoodnosn, nitlior than fif,'lit iipfainst the inevi-
table. Some good end is intended by ail tiie diseipline wo
aro receiving. Blessed will it be if wo can nndeistand,
and eo-openite witlj the Spirit in our sanctification. These
changes sliall soon be over, and a land of perfect tranqui-
lity and rest reached, where no ripple sliall disturb the
ocean of our happiness.

" Ponpisc not thon liirt cbasteniug,
N(ir fiiint beneath hiw rod ;
Errands of love our trials biinH
To lead us back to God.

" Good Lord, onr doubtsi and murmurs chase,
That wo may look abovo ;
And when thy ways wo cannot trace,
Still trust thy covtiittut lovo."

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SEEKING AND FINDINO.

" Seek yo the Lord wliilo ho may ho found, call yo upon him while
ho is near."— iHainh 55, v, 0.

Among the many transccndcntly precious and comfort-
ing passages conttuncd in the propliccics of Isaiah, the one
from wliicli our text is taken holds a prominent place.
The fuhicss, frecness and fitness of the gospel to meet the
wants of men arc nowhere more gloriously displayed. Pri-
marily addressed to the Jewish nation, it speaks to all
men everywhere, and is intended to be the burden of tho
Christian ministry on to the close of tho present dispensa-
tion. Then shall be fiilfillcd tho prediction, " Yo shall go
out with joy, and bo led forth with peace; the mountains
and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and
all tho trees of the field shall clap their hands. Instead
of the thorn shall come up the fir tree, and instead of tho
brier shall come up the myrtle tree; and it shall be to the
Lord for a name, for an everlasting sign that shall not be
cut off."

In this chapter, as in many otliers, there is exhibited
both the divine and tho human side of tho phin of salva-
tion. On the one hand wc have presented tho great long-

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SEEKING AND FINDING.

sufi'oring and willingness of the Almighty to pardon ; and
on the other, the obhgation that rests upon every sinner
to avail himself of the pardon that is offered and the means
by which it may be obtained. Whilst there arc many
things obscure to our understanding connected with the
work of redemption, and which must necessarily remain
so in our present state, there is nothing dark or uncertain
as to our duty. We may not be able to explain God's
sovereignty and man's free agency ; liow the Spirit ope-
rates and how we become co-workers with the Spirit in
the matter of conversion ; but this much is abundantly
manifest, that man's ability to repent is never once called
iu question. Therefore the Prophet no sooner describes
the infinite provision made for the wants of a dying world,
than he calls upon men to drink of living waters. " Seek
ye the Lord while he may bo found, call ye upon him while
he is near."

Let us at present consider the human side cf the plan of
redemption and the call addressed to men to repent and
accept of olYored mcrc3\ Seek — call; He may be found;
He is near.

l.—T/ic exhortation. ''Scehr ''Colir

We need hardly oxphiin what is lueant by seeking the
liOi'd. It is again and ngain u>:cd iu Scripture to denote
an earnest desirii u''ter forgiveness; a. id poace through the
death of Christ. It is naid of the good King Josiah tliat
''while lie was 3\->t youn;.; ]io began to b-eek after the God
of David his father," — implying singleness of purpose and
aim ; one object paramount to f.U ctlior;.; claimed and ab-
sorbed his attention, lu strikiiig contrast with the con-
duct of his predecessors, whoso lives were btaiued with gross

SEEKING AND FINDING.

219

licentiousness, lie sought to mould liis public and private
life in conformity with tho will of heaven. The claims of
God were of more importance in his Ciitimation than the
honours of his kiugdom. David the Psalmist also uses
similar language. "With my whole heart have I sought
thee," intimating that above and beyond all else God was
the great object of his desire.

The text does not imply that tho object of search is afar
off or difficult to be found, or that he tantalizes and evades
the sinner by repeated disappointments ; but that wherc-
ever there is a sense of sin and Imman weakness, there will
be a corresponding desire for the Saviour's presence, and
active efforts to secure all those blessings that his coming
brings.

This seeking of ine Lord is a personal act. In one sense
we seek the Lord in the sanctuary — in the prayer meeting
and at the family altar. But seeking tlio Lord in the true
sense of the word moans an outgoing of the soul in quest
of a personal Eedeemer. God's presence may be in Ifao
church in its collective capacity, and yet many hearers of
the gospel know nothing of an indwelling Saviour. By
very many, I tear, the outv/ard organization of tho visible
church is regarded as a joint stock company, where reli.
gion is dealt out to the many because of the merits of the
few. Once a man is enrolled as an adlierent he is entitled
to share in all the s})iritual bcnefils tbat are supposed to
belong to the society of wliich lie is a member. The minis-
ter and officials transact all tlic Inisinoss, and disburse the
revenue, just as an insurance and banking company pay
the profits to their shareholders. We do not perhaps hear
such language applied to churches, but the imlifference of

220

SEEKING AND FINDING.

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» ',

thousands in our land proves that the idea of individual
responsibility is forgotten, and personal effort to secure
salvation wofully neglected.

It is not to be denied that God often blesses wicked men
for the sake of the good. But it is also equally true that
he never yet saved a man because of the piety of his neigh-
bour. Such a doctrine of imputation has no place in the
scheme of grace. If a man is to gain the friendship ^f his
Maker, and share in all those blessings that flow from
union to Christ, he must personally seek his favour and
an interest in his death. Men are saved always as indi-
viduals, not as churches or nations. To secure peace and
pardon, each man for himself must put forth all the powers
and capabilities of which his nature is susceptible.

Seeking the Lord should also be the first duty of life.
"They that seek me early shall find me." "Early will I
seek thee." " With my spirit within me will I seek thee.''
•' Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness,
and all these things shall be added unto you." Many act
as if religious obligations were the last that should be ful-
filled. If a man after devoting his time and talents, his
intellect and substance through a long lifetime to the
world, can find a little leisure to look after the things of
eternity so far well. But to make the safety of the soul
the paramount concern of his life seems to many the very
height of fanaticism. A man who starts in life looking
upon the tremendous issues of the future world as of first
importance, and the concerns of the present as only se-
condary, is esteemed far from wise and prudent. Now,
supposmg that the question of time in no way interfered
with the result, and that salvation was sure in any case,
what do you think of the man who gives the last moments

SEEKING AND FINDING.

221

or years of his existence to the service of his maker as a
return for the mercies of a hfetime? Judged by the low
standard of honour that passes current in the world, such
conduct merits the contempt of all highminded men. And
yet there are, no doubt, some here to-day who are acting
after such a fashion. Year after year, 0, impenitent sin-
ner, you have depended upon the bounties of Providence ;
blessings undeserved, nay unexpected, have been lavished
upon you with unsparing liberality. Nature and grace
have combined to crown your days with loving kindness.
God by his servants, his word and his Spirit has appealed
to your reason and your conscience ; but you have with-
stood every argument and refused every overture. And it
is only when in sight of the judgment seat and great white
throne that you reluctantly yield to his demands and give
yourself to his service. Such conversions are emphatically
"mean conversions." God may accept such a man ; but
not with the favour and regard that he boars towards thos
who have for their entire life on earth devoted themselvcg
to the pursuit of piety and the advancement of his causg
on earth.

The language of the text denotes that seeking the Lord
is a work which demands earnestness and perseverance.
*' Seek," "Call," says the Prophet, as when men in posi-
tions of peril and danger call aloud for some strong and
friendly hand to render aid." "From the end of the earth
will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed : lead
me to the Eock that is higher than I." The Psalmist
speakiug of the straits into which sinners bring themselves
by their disobedience says : " Then they cry unto the Lord
in their trouble, and he savcth them out of their distresses."
When the converted soul is earnestly seeking peace, he

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222

SEEKING AND FINDIXG.

calls or crys upon God. " Strive to enter In at the strait
gate ; for many I say unto you will seek to enter in, and
shall not be able," so speaks Christ. The word " strive ''
is literally agonize. It denotes a struggling and wi-esthng;
a putting forth of all the powers and energies of the soul
to effect its object. "So run," says the apostle, ** that ye
may obtain." *' The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence
and the violent take it by force." The taking of strongly
fortilBed forts and redoubts is no child's play to the most
daring soldiers. Amid showers of red hail and deadly
'^hells they must steadily advance, until the national flag
is planted proudly upon the enemy's soil and victory is
gained. And so in securing a place in the kingdom of
heaven, difficulties must be overcome and hardships en-
dured. Says the bride in the Song, when mourning an
absent Lord: **By night on my bed I sought him whom
my soul loveth : I sought him, but I found him not. I
will rise now and go about the city in the streets, and in
the broad ways I will seek him whom my soul loveth : I
bought him, but I found him not." This is the experience
of many an awakened sinner, until at last he says : "I
found him whom my soul loveth ; I held him and would
not let him go."

It is not to bo wondered at that so many men complain
of fruitless endeavours after inward peace ; of seeking, but
never finding Christ. If they were as lukewarm and in-
different to the things of this world, they never would se-
cure a competency. But no difficulties or obstacles check
or cool their zeal and courage. If misfortunes and unex-
pected reverses meet them, these only nerve them for
greater sacriiicrs and qualify them for greater conquests.
But in the matter of seeking Christ most men take two

SEEKING AND FINDING.

223

steps backward for one step forward. They go about the
interests of tlic soul as unconcernedly as if nothing were at
stake.

11. — The promise. '* He may he found.'' " He is near.''

It is not peradventure, nor chance search. You may
start in business and hope to amass great riches, but meet
with bitter disappointment. You may leave your native
land for the gold regions of California and labour for years
in attempting to find tlie precious metal, but with httlo
recompense for all your toil. What gold you find is adul-
terated, and needs the refiner's fire to make it marketable
and exchangeable. But no man ever yet earnestly sought
Christ in vain. No man over yet lamented that his la-
bour was lost. "Ask and it shall be given you : seek and
ye shall find : knock and it shall bo opened unto you. Fo^
every one that asketli receiveth ; and ho that seekcth
findeth ; and to him that kncckcth it shall be opened."
When Andrew finds his brother Simon, he says: *'Wo
have found the ]\ressias, whicli is, being intcrprotod, the
Christ." And Philip finding Nathaniel says: "Wo liave
found him of whom Moses in the law and tlio proplicts did
write; Jesus of Nazaroth, the son of Joscpli." Nor is it
more difficult to find Josus now than in apostolic times.
" I said not unto the seed of Jacob, seek ye me, in vain."
'•If thou seek him ho wiU bo found of thee ; ])ut if tjiou
forsake him, he will cast tlicc off for over."

What is it to i\nA Christ? Mnoli mnro than merely
reading the words of Scripture wherein liis char?x-tor and
life work arc sot forth. Much more than outward rove,
rencc for the panctuary, and attendance u])on ilio mcan.^
of grace. Much moro than subscribing to a creed uud

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224

SEEKING AND FINDING.

ill

confession of faith and form of cloctrino- These things,
good and well in their place, are but the shell, through
which the soul in the exercise of a living faith must pene-
trate. But it is in such a way that many men find Christ.
They never go further than tlie exhibition of his person
and work in l; mbolic ordinances, and never find perfect
rest in believing. Their religion is no better than that of
the pagan idolater, who Ijisses the image and falls pros-
trate before the altar. All these things are but the outer
courts that lead the enquiring soul into the Holy of Holies.
They are but fing'^r posts pointing to the Saviour. To
find Christ is to lina peace, comfort and consolation amid
all the agitatit ns and ills of life : it is the assurance of for-
giveness and the joy of pardon : it is the inbreathing of
God's Spirit in the soul — tUt. implantation of a new life
of new desires and aims : it is the fellowship of heaven for
the remainder of life's journey, and the prospect of God's
presence throughout eternity.

He not only may be found, but he is near. " Behold I
stand at the door and knock : if any man licar my voice
and open the door, I v. ill come in to him, and will sup
with him and he with mo." " Open to me, my sister, ray
iove, my dovo, my undefilcd ; for my head is filled with
dew and my locks with the dew of the night." " Say not
in thine heart, who shall ascend into heaven (that is to
bring Christ down from above); or, who shall descend
into the deep (that is to bring Christ up again from the
dead) ; but what saith the righteousness which is by
faiti) ? The word is nigh thee, even in thy mouth, and in
thy heart ; that is the v.ord of faith, which we preach >
tliat if tliou shalt confess wirh tliy mouth the Lord Jesn,^,
and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him

liings,
irough
pene-
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preach :
)r(l Jesn^,
aiscd him

SEEKINO AND FXNDINQ.

225

from the dead, thon shalt be saved." The trnth taught us
in the text and similar passages is, that we are followed at
every step by an anxious Saviour, who is willing to re-
spond to the feeblest cry of the returning penitent. Quicker
far than light travels from the sun, or the electric spark
flashes along the wires, does Christ come to the assistance
of the broken-hearted sinner. You can fancy a mother
following — all unknown — her prodigal son through the
haants of vice and the purlieus of wickedness in the
crowded city. She dare not reveal herself during his
madness and debauchery; but she follows on, until at last
wearied and worn out by his wild excitement, he lies down
upon the first rude pallet that offers him temporary repose.
As he sleeps he dreams of other days, in infancy and child-
hood, when, innocent and happy, he was the idol of the
household. In his quieter moments he Usps the name of
" mother" just as in the past, when in childish weakness
he clung for protection to her side. No sooner does he
breathe the name, than that mother, trembhng with emo-
tion, bends over him, and assures him of her complete
forgiveness and her fondest love. Oh, how sweet to the
half-awakened, half-conscious outcast does that mother's
form appear in that hour of wretchedness and remorse !
So it is with the sinner and the Saviour. At the very first
dawn of mental consciousness ; when the eye is but open-
ing upon the new existence on which it is entering ; when
the mind is troubled ; when the step is feeble ; when doubts
and perplexities are many, and faith and love are weak and
fitful, then he Saviour's words are precious beyond
language or conception, when he says, "Fear not, I. am
with thee ; be not be dismayed for I am thy God. I will
strengthen thee ; yea 1 will help thee. Yea I will uphold
thee with the right hand of my righteousness."

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SEEKING AND FINDING.

Illli

I think tho promise of my text one of the most comfort-
ing in the Bible, and one which should most powerfully
aijpeal to unconverted men. Mark the words, " He may
be found " — " He is near." It is not simply that minis-
tering angels are at hand, to carry your message to the
gates of heaven and sue for mercy on your behalf; but
Jesus stands near you, ready to forgive and welcome you
to his open arms. His nearness to the soul is constant —
at all times and in all circumstances. It is very true that
there are periods when salvation seems more likely than
at other times ; when, as we say, *' Jesus of Nazareth
passeth by," and the angel comes down and stirs the pool
of blessing. God's Spirit on such occasions seems to act
more powerfully upon churches and individuals, and
grander results are seen than under the ordinary minis-
trations of the sanctuary. But to teach that it is only on
such memorable occasions that salvation is possible, is
false and opposed to the whole analogy of Scripture. In
every emergency Christ is at hand to aid us. He is far
more willing to hcli) us than we ara to call for liis assist-
ance.

Mark, finally, the striking phraseology of the text : —
'* While he is near " call upon him. lie is to be found
just now. The promise belongs to tho present >noment.
There is a limit to man's probation. There may not be a
closing up of the avenues of love and hope, nor an end to
entreaties and mvitations ; but the heart will harden, and
the voice of mercy be in vain. I do not love to exhibit
Christ as shutting his oar to the penitent's cry, though of-
fered at the eleventh hour. Even at this late period there
is hope. Deathbed repentances are better than none ;
but that is about ail we can say of them. To trust to

SEEKING AND FINDING.

227

some occasion in tho near or far future when you will be
more impressible and tender, is foolish and dangerous.
Christ may then be gone from your side, and gone for
ever. Your birthright is now trembling in tho balance—
your destiny for eternity depends upon the decision of the
present moment.

The line between probation and reprobation no man can
point out. That awful crisis, beyond which reformation
is impossible and mercy is unknown, is often reached long
before the hour of death. Nay even in the agonies of
dissolution, the hopeless state of tho soul may not be
understood, save by him who is cognizant of the doom and
destiny of every human being,

If there is danger that by some he may not be found,
act as under this conviction. Life is too valuable to be
dreamed away in sanctimonious but unprofitable reverie,
and death too near and certain for men to trifle with the
great question of immortality. There cannot be too much
concern in regard to the safety of the soul. For one man
who becomes a monomaniac on the subject of rehgion, ten
thousand become insane and perish, beer use they turn a
deaf ear to the warnings of {Scripture until it is too late.
Infidel philosophers speak very solemnly of the daoger of
excitement, and multiply instances where men and women
become shattered in intellect by the alarms of the pulpit.
The true cause is, that when men despise the warnings
and entreaties of God's Spirit, and at last become con-
scious of their folly when too late, they are driven to
despan. They did not seek the Lord when he miglit be
found, nor call upon him when he was near, and he leaves
them to the bitter accusations of a tormenting conscience,

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8KEKIM0 AND FINDINO.

that haBtena them to the grave. There is no need for such
a sad end. Prepare ijiow for that awful but blessed future
which stretches out before you. Leave not the great ques*
tion of peace with God unsettled until the day of death : —

" Thou inevitable day
When a voice to me shall eay :
* Thou must rise and come away.

" All thine other journeys past,
Gird thee and make ready fast
For thy longest and thy last.' "

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" The hftrvest is past, the sommer is ended, and we are not saved."
—Jeremiah 8tb, v. 20th.

These words are invested with a melancholy interest,
when we aonsidsr the circumstances in which they were
spoken. The Jewish nation was now on the verge of des-
truction — its glory about to be eclipsed, and its name and
honour buried in the dust. Often before this, had the
prophet proclaimed the certain punishment that awaited
the people for their sins, but these warnings were all un-
heeded and despised. Earnest entreaties had been fol-
lowed by fearful threatenings, and threatenings by judge-
ments. Vial after vial of the Almighty's indignation had
been poured upon that guilty nation, but all without effect.
At last the cup of their iniquity was full to overflowing.
The longsuffering and forbearance of Jehovah was about
to terminate, and the fury of his anger sweep over them in
terrible reality. The nation was now ripe for judgment.
Society, through all its ramifications, was polluted. Kings,
princes, priests and people, had all, more or less, fallen
into gross abominations. The reins of government, as a
consequence, were slackened ; cruelty usurped the place
of justice, ojnd lawlessness reigned supreme. At different

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periods in the history of the nation, God had raised up
faithful rulers and fearless prophets, whoso example had
they followed, and whose admonitions had they regarded,
would have restored them to the favor, and secured for
them the forgiveness of heaven. One after another, these
holy men had passed away, testifying against their im-
peniteuco. Shortly before the period alluded to in the
text, the good King Josiah sat upon the throne. Many
acts of reformation had been effected during his life, and
for a time it seemed as if the predictions of former pro-
phets would remain unrealized, and the judgments of
heaven be delayed. But not so. This partial reformation
was but the prelude to greater deeds of violence. Just like
the calm before the storm, when the mariners are allured
to slumber by the geutlo motion of the ship and the placid
bosom of the ocean, when suddenly the sky above them
darkens, the hurricane begins to blow, and the bark drifts
upon the rocks, an untimely and unexpected wreck — so
was it with the Jewish nation at the period under consid-
eration. The last faint star of hope was fast sinking in
the moral firmament, and a gloomy night of long duration
closing in around. In such circumstances the prophet
Jeremiah, standing as it were on the brink of the nation's
fearful doom, and looking forward with prophetic vision
upon the dark and doleful future, gives expression to the
words of the text : " The harvest is past, the summer is
ended, and wo are not saved."

The Prophet's words are invested with a still deeper in-
terest, when we consider the literal truth of the statement :
"The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are
not saved. ' The time of harvest in the land of Judea, was
the time when the inhabitants generally went forth to war.

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281

Tho Jowfl woro in daily cxpootatiou of promised aid from
tlio Egyptians. Trusting moro in an arm of ilosli than in
tho omnipotence of Jehovah, they hoped by tho asbistanco
of Egyptian armies, to conquer tho King of J^abylon and
free themselves from bondage. But timo rolled on, and
no Egyptian army came. Tho summer was over, and tho
harvest was past, and yet their hopes were unfuliilled.
In such circumstances how exceedingly appropriate the
words of tho Prophet : "Tho harvest is past, the summer
is ended, and wo are not saved."

Tho text admits of a moro extended application than to
tho Jewish nation.

Every young person who has allowed tho morning of
life to pass away without serious impressions of divino
things, may say: "The harvest is papt, the summer is
ended, and I am not saved." Wc do not limit tho grace
of God. Sovereign mercy is not circi iscribed by man's
circumstances. What seems impossible of accomplish-
ment to the creature, is easy with God. Divino grace is
sufficient for every stago of human existence, so that the
dying thief on the cross received its benefit at tho clrventh
hour as savingly as Timothy, who from a child knew the
scriptures, and passed imperceptibly into the Kingdom.
Nor is it limited in its elHcacy by the sinner's guilt. A
Manasseh and a Mary Magdalene were as perfectly washed
from their sins as wore Enoch and Elijah, who passed into
glory without tasting of death. But v.iiile all this is true,
it is also to be borne in mind that scripture gives no coun-
tenance whatever to what is known as death-bed repent-
ance. That souls are saved in a dying hour, no one will
gainsay ; but these arc so rare, no sinner dare venture to
hope for such a radical change in the closing hours of life.

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NOT SAVED.

In the spiritual, as in the natural world, there bxq certain
laws, in virtue of which God wills and acts, and through
which he carries out his eternal purpcsen and deals with
fallen man. The husbandman sows his seed in the ap-
pointed time. He waits patiently for the early and the
latter rains, and the warm beams of the summer's sun to
mature and fructify his crops, before he gathers them into
his garner. At the appointed time of harvest, he expects
a return for his previous labor, — nor does he look in vain.
Although he may have sown in tears, he reaps in joy ;
although bearing his precious seed, he may have gone forth
weeping, be returns rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with
him. But the man who suffers seed time to pass without
the necessary labour, and still expects to gather in his
sheaves, is regarded as fooUsh in the extreme. He is unfit
for the duties and demands of society, — an enemy to his
country, and a traitor to his own best interests.

Transferring this common illustration from the world
of nature to the world of grace, what shall we say of the
young man or woman who squanders early years in carnal
inaulgence and unprofitable pastimes ? Have such per-
sons any chance of real happiness in after life ? Have
they p, right lo expect God's blessing on their subsequent
career ? Is it likely that the spirit of God, so often stifled
and resisted, will again strive with a soul hopelessly given
up to the world and its pollutions ? Have such any right
to hope that they will eventually be saved, or is it not
rather all but certain that their dying exclamation will be
the words of the text : " The harvest is past, the summer
is ended, and we are not saved ?"

It is very true that God might without man's aid and
co-operation render the most hardened sinner instantane-

NOT SAVED.

283

ously fit for heaven, and capacitated to enjoy the exercises
and delights of the redeemed. He might, by suspending
for a time the laws and operations of the material uni-
verse, and by miraculous agency, fill our storehouses with
the productions of the field without the aid of human ia-
strumeutality. But this is not God's uniform mode of
proceduro either in the natural or spiritual world. Co-
operation on the part of man is presupposed in every offer
of salvation. Wo are to work out our own salvation with
fear and trembling, realizing at the same time that it is
God who worketh in us both to will and to do of his good
pleasure ; confident that be that begins the good work in
us will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.

Secondly, when seasons of revival are allowed to pass
unimproved, and sinners obstinately refuse to avail them-
selves of such special means of grace, unconverted souls
may exclaim : *'The harvest is past, the summer is ended,
and we are not saved."

God's Spirit is always present in the church and the
world. But for this unseen but not less almighty power,
evil would become uncontrollable, and spiritual life would
die. There are, however, in addition to the constant ope-
rations of the Spirit, occasions when tlio S])irit of God
draw8 specially lU'ar to our guilty world and individual
souls. The Jewish nation was favoured again and again
with such seasons of revival. The guiUy city of Nineveh
also experienced such an awakening, when the inliiibi-
tants, from the king upon the throne down to the meanest
subject of the kingdom, repented of their sins and mournod
ill sackcloth because of tlieir iniquities. It was not the
preaching of the Prophet Jonah that accomplished sucli a
mighty reformation, nor the strange words that echoed

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through its thorough ares, * Yet forty dr-ys and . di>eveh
shall bo destroyed." Often before this, doubtliss, the
Ninevites had been Ciilled to flee from coming wraih ; but
now the preacher's words were accompanied with the de-
monstration 01 the Spirit, and pierce I the conscience of
that guilty mass of human beings. The result was in
proportion to the means employed. Nineveh repented.
Its inhabitants abandoned their acts of violence, and
turned from their evil ways. That was also a marvellous
revival when on the day of Pentecost there came a sound
from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, with cloven
tongues of fire and supernatural utterances, resulting in
the conversion of three thousand souls, and on a succeed-
ing day of not less than five thousand. These indeed
were plain and striking exhibitions of divine power, but
not more so than have appeared in modern times. Blessed
bo God that although apostolic days are past, the Spirit
remains ; although inspiration has ceased and miracles
have ended, the power of divine grace still continues to
operate upon human souls. Nay, have wo not in many
parts of our own laud cxpcricuced but recently, such gra-
cious visitations ? After a long period of deadncss and
darkness the sun of righteousness has arisen in many
localities \vith unji'-nal effulgence, cheering the hearts
of God's servants and causing moral wildernesses to bloom
and blossom like tJio rose. These droppings of heaven
have been felt more or less in all our congregations, and
large accessions have been made to the church of the liv-
ing God.

Now, whon such remarkable seasons pass away, and
special efforts to awaken careless souls avail nothing, the
result is sad indeed. Humanly speaking, the case is des-

NOT SAVED.

235

perate. Gospel hardened hearers are the most hopeless.
They are not chargeable with the commission of vulgar
crimes. They scorn the name of profligate. They boast
the name and standing of nominal Christians. They at-
tend God's house with tolerable regularity. They give of
their means for the support of ordinances and the dissemi-
nation of Christianity — more perhaps as a matter of civil
poUcy than any real belief in its efficacy. They respect
the externalism of religion, and are in a word, what the
world calls good moral men, honourable in their business
dealings rMu correct in their outward deportment, although
not pro.'.essed members of the visible church. They have
lived f; for many years, and conclude that all things con-
sidered they have as good a chance of heaven, as many
inconsistent church members. Occasionally, it is true,
they are annoyed by slight compunctions of conscience.
There are bitter moments in their history, when the still
small voice of conscience reproves them for their inditle-
rence and warns of coming danger. These, however, they
come to regard as the whims of melancholy and the vaga-
ries of a diseased imagination. By many and diversified pro-
vidential dealings also God has struggled with their slum-
bering souls. By the daily continuance " mercies he has
endeavoured to win them to his arms. And when the
voice of mercy has failed, by judgment after judgment ho
has endeavoured to alarm. Family bereavements, perso-
nal affliction and commercial disasters have all in turn
been sent upon them, and yet they remain impenitent.
They are unmoved ahke by the tender ministrations of a
dying Saviour and the threatcnings of eternal death.
Truly it may be said of such, •' The harvest is past, the
summer is ended, and they are not saved."

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To such I now appeal. If these direct deahngs of the

Almighty do not lead you to speedy repentance, what will ?
The Spirit will not always strive. Continue thus to resist
his gracious invitations and soon he will he gone for ever,
rendering your eternal destruction iQcvitablc. That come-
ly garment which you have so laboriously woven out of the
good actions of a lifetime, will avail nothing at the bar of
God. These very ordinances which you now enjoy, the
many pointed appeals which you hear from the pul-
pit, and the exalted privileges you inherit as a member of
a Christian community, will but increase your condemna-
tion. No man can sit under the preaching of the gospel
and remain stationary. It will cither break the stony
heart in pieces or render it tenfold harder, making ulti-
mate conversion improbable if not impossible. Be warned
I beseech you, and liee from coming wrath. Lay hold
upon a waiting Saviour while he is within your reach.
Delay not until mercy has tied and judgment is set, when
you shall exporienco what now you deem chimerical — the
wrath of an angry God. " I also will laugh at your cala-
mity, I will mock when your fear cometh ; when your fear
comcth as a desolation, and your destruction cometh as a
whirlwind."

Finally, at a dying hour, when the sinner is called to
meet the grand realities of the spirit world, burdened with
a load of unatoned for guilt, how truly it may le said : —
" The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and he is not
saved." There is something unspeakably pleasing and
consoling when standing by a Christian's deathbed. Un-
appallcd by the terrors of .the grave and the dark valley of
the shadow of death, he can breathe forth the language of
perfect resignation and gladly say, — *' thy will be done."

NOT SAVED. 237

•' Life's duty done — as sinks the clay
Light from its load the spirit flies :
While heaven and earth combine to say
How blest the righteous when he dies ! "

But how different with the imcouverted soul ?

•' Wliat scenes of horror and of dread
Await the sinner's dying bed ;
Death's terrors all appear in sight,
Presages of eternal night."

We can but faintly speak of such a death-bed. God
grant tliat no soul present may ever experience its incon-
ceivable misery. In that crisis of despair, when the silver
cord is about to be loosened, and the golden bowl to be
broken; when the pitcher is broken at the fountain, and
the wheel at the cistern ; when dust is about to return to
dust, and the spirit to the God who gave it ; when the
brittle thread of life is fast yielding to the convulsions of
expiring nature, and the flame is flickering in the socket —
Oh, in such an hour, what must be the anguish of a poor
lost soul ? One could almost wish, that in such an exigency
reason had deserted her throne, rather than listen to the
wailings of an immortal spirit on the brink of perdition.
Truly of such an one it may be said : "The harvest is past,
the summer is ended, and he is not saved."

Now if not saved what then ? Lost ! Lost for all eter-
nity ! Says Job: "What is the hope of t_he hypocrite,
though ho hath gained, when God taketh away his soul ?"
"What is a man profited," says Christ, "if he gain the
whole world and lose his own soul ? or what shall a man
give in exchange for his soul?" The question in both
cases is hypothetical. No man can gain the whole world,
but he can lose his soul ; and in losing the soul he loses
everything. Nor need we despise the world in magnifying

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the overwhelming importance of the soul. It contains
much that is good. It has beauty to enrich the eye, know-
lodge to enlarge the miud, melody to charm the ear, wealth
to gratify the taste, and pleasures to fascinate the senses.
Those tilings are worth something and may he procured.
But when possessed they fail to satisfy. They cannot
purchase exemption from sickness and death; they cannot
avert suffering ; they cannot impart peace and pardon at
the close of life. The dying millionaire and pauper are on
a level. Rothschild, and Aetor, and Stewart, and Van-
derhilt, are crowded at last into as small a space as the
poor-house pauper, whose last obsequies the poet describes
when he says : —

"Rattk his bones over the stones.
'Tis cnly a pauper, whom nobody owns."

All that is in this world is fading. Matter in its most
beautiful and attractive forms is subject to decay. The
flowers, the stars, the rainbow, — all die. The soul alone
is immortal ; whe i created matter has vanished, it enters
upon an existence which knows no end. Surely the sal-
vation of such a soul must be precious ! Think of its
wondrous powers and capacities, — its tender sensibihties,
— its possible att dnmonts when emancipated from sense
and sin, and the ,;ost of its redemption. *• The worth of
the soul I who cm estimate it ? Angels ! — ye know it
not — yo never fell. Devils ! — ye know it not — your suffer-
ings are never ai; an end. Son of God! — Thou knowest
it, for Thou didst pay the price of its redemption."

If not saved th. s soul is lost for ever. It shall live on,
but in a condition compared with which death were prefer-
able. Duration unsaved is increasing woe. " Whosoever
was not found written in the book of life was cast into the

NOT SAVED.

239

lake fire. This is the second dealli. ' Surely it needs
no argument or persuasion to show the necessity of escap-
ing such a destiny and securing a blessod imraortahty. If
we are saved at all, it can only bo through believing in
Christ, and the offer extends not beyond the present mo-
ment. No amount of regrets, nor floods of tears, can wash
out the guilt of a misspent life. The cliaracter of our
death depends upon the conduct of our life. We may
write our names upon the sand by the seashore, and the
returning wave will obliterate the impression, but when
the recording angel has once engrossed the story of our
lives, no erasure or change is possible. •' He that is un-
just, let h .m be unjust still : and he which is filthy, let
him be filthy still : and he that is righteous, let him be
righteous still : and he that is holy, let him be holy still."

I speak to some whose consciences endorse every word
that has been uttered, but who never pass beyond resolu-
tions as to a cliauge of state. They aij sensible of their
present guilt, and ready to acknowlc Igc the misery of
the ir condition out of Christ, but ehcri;- li the hope that at
thf close of life all will be well, notwith.;tandiug their con-
tinued apathy and iiidiffereiiee. " Goi who is so merciful
anl compassionate, v/iil pity then- we ikness and world-
lincs;], and by some miraculoup intoi (^^)Osiiion, cuango a
godless life into a happy anl poacoftil death. " Xciu-r,
sinner, wUess you now cnj for nwrcij. That cry he now
waits to hear. Although auothor surniaer has ended, and
another harvest is past, the offer of salvi'tion is not recalled.
If lost you may yet be saved. The Soi of man is come to
8e(k and to save that which is lost. T lough condemned,
you are yet prisoners of hope. Tln'ouph the iron gratings
of your cell, beams of mercy are this day glancing in upon

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NOT SAVED.

you. Once more the gospel invitation is made, and a
loving and forbearing Saviour beseeches you with out-
stretched arms, and in tones of deepest tenderness, to
become reconciled to an offended God. To-day, if ye will
hear His voice, harden not your hearts. Let no more
seasons of grace bo neglected, nor providential warnings
pass unheeded, but non\ this very moment, take hold of
Christ, confessing Him to be your Lord and your God.
Let not the last utterance of your life be the terrible con-
fession of the text, "The harvest is past, the summer is
ended, and we are not saved." The season of the year
again reminds us of the rapid flight of time and our acar-
ness to eternity.

" Some of the leaves are early changed
Yellow, and brown, and sere ;
And we are not far from tlio fadiuf,' time,
The autnmn of the year."

But if we are Christ's we need not fear the change.

all such : —

" The winter comes not too soon,
And when autumn draweth nigh,
Tlicy sliall be ready for snow and wind,
And not afraid to die."

■

A PERSONAL GOD.

" As the hart panteth rTter the water brooks, bo panteth my soul
after thee, God. My ooul thirsteth for Gocl, for the hvinpj God;
when shall I come ar.d appear before God?" — Psalm 42nd, v. 1. 3.

" God, Thou art m;-^ God ; early will I seek Thee: My soul thirst-
eth for Thee, my flesh longeth for Thee in a dry and thirsty laud,
whore no water is." — Psalm 63rd, v. 1.

Apart from any inscription on these psalms, we can
have no difficulty in deciding their authorship. There is
a peculiar fervency and glowing earnestness in all of Da-
vid's utterances, when seeking after communion with God,
common to none other of the inspired writers. He seems
to lahor under an intensity of feeling, which cannot he ex-
pressed in ordinary language. The writer is evidently not
a stranger to the hlessedness of fellowship with the I n-
seen. On the contrary, he has tasted so frcr^uently in by-
gone days of the rapturous joy, that accompanies the div-
ine presence in the soul, that he longs after its renewal.

David is now in the wilderness of Judah. The King is
a fugitive from his throne in Jerusalem, and what to him
is a far greater loss, he is banished fromthe courts of God's
house, and .shut out from the pubhc ordinances of the
sanctuary. He is in a dry and thirsty land where there

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A PERSONAL OOD.

is no water, and pursued by relentless enemies who Bcek
his destruction. The memory of past seasons of commun-
ion when ho had beheld God's power and glory, increases
his loneliness and misery, and adds new bitterness to his
melancholy. But he will not despair even in the wilder-
ness of Judah. If he may not return to the tabernacle,
he can at least in private converse with his Maker renew
his strength. And never did worshipper in grand cathe-
dral, amid all the pomp and pageantry of tinselled priests
and ritualistic services, enjoy such blessed moments, as
did David, when in the grand temple of nature, he cried
out : " God, Thou art my God ; early will I seek thee."

These words exhibit the yearnings of a devout Boul af-
ter spiritual worship — a worship which consists not in
symbolic and artistic representations of the Divine being,
which often hide from the worshipper the deity thus dimly
symbolized, — but in simple childlike intercourse between
man and his maker. "When the soul is agonizing for a
season of precious communion with God, it will not loiter
in the outer courts of the temple ; — it will at once enter
within the Holy of Holies and approach the blood-bc-
sprinklcd mercy seat. Nor will it find in liturgies and
forms of prayer, suitable words as channels for its pent
up emotions — for no man can understand the feelings of
his neighbor, far less embody them in fitting words.

The language of the text sets before us the relation of
the believmg soul to its Maker. O God, Thou art my
God ; a personal God— not an abstract, undofiuable exis-
tence, but one who is capable of being loved, reverenced and
worshipped ; one in whose presence we can stand and en-
joy most intimate fellowship. No religion is of any value
that does not recognize the personality of the Divine being.

A PERSONAL OOD.

248

Pantheism, and the whole catalogue of false systems of
religions, that make God " but a pure creation of the crea-
tures thought " — that mix him up in some mysterious
way with the universe he has made, and deny his con-
stant supervision of the world and the creatures of his
hand, cannot satisfy the wants of the human soul, nor
meet the demands of enlightened reason. If there is a
God at all, he must be a personal being. To fashion a
God out of wood and stone and bow down before it, is not
more absurd and childish than to yield homage to a being,
whose existence depends upon the will and intellect of the
creature.

The language also describes the character and attributes
of this personal God. The words imply Omnipotence —
majesty — might ; — " My mighty God" — "the ever awful
One " — "my strong God." Such a God did David need
in this hour of distress, when his heart was failino him,
because of the accumulation of human woe. And such a
God, none other but the Christian religion presents, to
meet the cravings of the human soul for sympathy and
succour. "The gods of the heathen are silver and gold, the
work of men's hands. They have mouths,but they speak
not ; eyes have they, but they see not ; they have ears,
but they hear not ; noses but they smell not ; hands, but
they handle not ; feet, but they walk not. But our God
is in the heavens,he hath done whatsoever he hath pleased."
An impersonal God cannot possess such attributes, and
cannot meet the yearnings of the creature for support and
sympathy in the hour of suffering. Such a being may be
very beautiful as a conception, but feeble to sustain, amid
the struggles of existence, when the spirit throbs and
faints under the burden of sin and sorrow. At sucli time
we want one who knows, feels, understands our griefs ;

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one to whom we can bonfideiitly look and in whoao loving

care we can trustfully repose, amid the rude alarms of life,
saying in the words of the t*salmist : *' From the end of
the earth will I cry unto thee ; when ray heart is over-
whelmed ; lead me to the rock that is higher than I-"

But still further. This personal God, is the possession
of the Psalmist. " My God — my own Redeemer — my
never-failing friend and intercessor." God may be all in
himself that we have stated, but unless we can claim him
as our own, the existence of his glorious attributes is of
no value to us as individuals. "A God in nature is a God
above me ; a God in law is a God against me ; a God in
providence is a God beyond me ; but a God in Christ is a
God in me — a God for me, and He is my God.,' The lit-
tle monosyllable" my" denotes covenant relationship — a
bond of union closer than any earthly tie, and more en-
during than the strongest human love. Wonderful no
doubt it is, but not less true, that every child of God can
say ♦• my God." If we are loved by him at all, it is with
such an infinite tenderness, as makes us bold to say, "my
God." He gives himself to the individual believer, with
as absolute a completeness, p s if there were no other being
besides that individual soul, and yet every saint can as
truly say, " my God." And what, need I ask, does such
a term of endearment imply ? What does the terms — mv
husband — my child — my friend — mean ? Ah, there i
world of meaning in the little word "my." The motlit ,
bending over the cradle of her first born child,in the fond-
ness of her heart, instinctiuely cries out "my child.'
And the soul united to Christ by a living faith, just as
spontaneously cries out "my God, early will I seek Thee."
The aifection is mutual. Thfe friendship estabhshed be-

A PERSONAL (iOD.

245

tweon the croaturo and tlio creator, by the death of Christ,
is unalterable and ovcrlasthig. "We can enter his immed-
iate presence without any forebodings of coming anger or
the dread of vengeance. Reposing safely under the shel-
ter of his wings, and basking in the sunshine of his coun-
tenance, and smiling with perfect contentment, we can de-
fy the approach of death itself.

" When I can say my God is miuo,
When lean ftcl liis^'Iory sliino,
I'll tread the world bt-neath my feet,
And all this world calls good or great."

Are there not many who cannot say •' God, Thou art
my God,'' And yet they do not consider their condition
perilous. They believe in the person and divinity of
Christ intellectually. They unite in the public acts of
worship, but the recognition cf a personal God as theirs
has never once entered their mind. If you belonged to
God's family it would be otherwise. Does the child feel
ashamed to say " my father," or the wife** my husband" ?
Those who are really the objects of Christ's love, and who
possess the assurance of his favour, cannot but proclaim
the fact to the world. Is not such an alUance honourable ?
Is not the friendship of the Almighty worth possessing ?
"What nobler declaration than that of the Apostle Paul,
" He loved me and gave himself for me." The highest as-
pirations of the creature, must centre in the Creator, for
as Augustine beautifully remarks : " Thou hast made us
for Thyself, and there is no rest in our souls, until we rest
in Thee."

Bef re leaving this part of the subject, notice, the pos-
aibi' of profitable communion with God, where the pub-
lic c rcises of the sanctuary are for a time denied us.

246

A PERSONAL GOD.

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David had a passionate lore for the lioiiso of God. His
heart was filled with inexpressible sadness, when he was
forced to leave that spot, which was dearer to him than
any other portion of his kingdom. But he was well aware
that the outward building is after all but the accident, and
not the means of enjoying spiritual communion. When-
ever God deigns to meet his people there are manifesta-
tions of his glory. David therefore, excluded from the
sanctuary, seeks God's presence within his soul ; nor does
he seek in vain. It is always so. The man who is most
faithful in his attendance upon the means of grace, is
almost invariably a lover of secret prayer. Wherever
there is a devotional spirit, there will be a felt necessity to
take advantage of every opportunity that is afforded for
intercourse with God. No man can reap benefit from the
weekly ordinances of religion, who does not prepare him-
self by stated seasons of private devotion. And when by
reason of sickness, or other providential interpositions, the
outward exercises 01 God's house are denied him, he will be
able like David, to keep alive the flame of piety in his soul
by secret prayer, which can always be enjoyed indepen-
dent of outward condition or change of place. If in per-
son we cannot stand before the altar with the great
congregation, we can letch living flames from the altar, to
feed the fires of devotion in our souls.

Having thus gained the ear of his maker, David begins
his plaint. "Early willi seek thee." The language does not
signify the first approach of the convicted sinner toward
God but a renewal of his attachment, and a consecratioLi
of his life to the service of his maker. In early life ho had
made him his first choice, and for many years he had
tasted the blessedness that flows from a sense of pardon
and peace within the soul. But now m the loneliness of the

A PERSONAL GOD.

247

desert, finding how dependent he is upon the consolations
of heaven, he reiterates the fixed purpose of his hfe. As
a seeker after God, David stands out pre-eminent among
Old Testament saints. His first thoughts in tlie morning
were ot God. Before he had conversed with his fellow-
men, he communed with his maker. " My voice shalt
thou hear in the morning, Lord ; in the morning will I
diroct my prayer unto thee, and will look up." And this
devotional frame of mind began at dawn of day, continued
till its close. In all the emergencies of life, he likewise
sought council and guidance from on high. NoW; in liis
peculiar circumstances, he goes at once to a throne of
grace, as the only sure source of comfort, and entrusts his
case to an ever watchful and ever loving Saviour.

Where in such seasons of unexpected sorrow should the
child of God be found, but in close contact with his God ?
Who but the loving parent can mitigate the woes and allc-
viute the pains of the beloved child ? And where else can
we go when heart and flesh faints and fails, but to him
whose ear is ever ready to hear our cry ? Is it so I nsk,
in your daily toils and when agitated with the troubles of
life ? When perplexed with the intricacies of business —
when harrassed by the slanders of enemies — when bowed
down and depressed with t)ie burden of personal or relative
affliction — when lacerated bv bereavements — when bewil-
dered and confounded by an accumulation of evils, that
overwhelm the reason, where do you hasten for that rest
and assurance of coming relief, that the wounded spirit
needs *? Is it to man — frail, feeble and shortsighted man,
whose breath is in his nostrils — whose judgment is fallible
— whose friendship is often treacherous, and whoso power
to save or even spmpathise is of little vfilue ? Or do you at

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A PERSONAL GOD.

once look upward, whence alone cometh aid ? There is
nothing that so tests a man's religious i)rinciples, so much

as his conduct in times of peculiar distress. Ungodly men
submit their difficulties for solution to their worldly com-
panions, and seek in their council some method of escape
and relief from present ills. But a good man, makes God
his confidential adviser, and spreads before him in the se-
cret of his closet all his wants and weakness. He may
not always receive immediate relief, nor an instant an-
swer to his prayers. The burden may remain upon his
soul, and clouds and darkness surround his pathway. Nay
the difficulties of his position may increa?e and his ene-
mies become more violent and remorseless. But of one
thing he is confident — that his father has heard his cry
and will eventually interpose. An c9.rnGst, seeking soul,
never yet was denied its plea.

There is something in David's conduct on the present
occasion, that should come home powerfully to every in-
different one who hears me. Surely the value of a settled
religious belief, in composing the soul and calming its
fea,rs, is here clearly seen. W]»y is it that tiierc is among
men so much dread anxiety, regarding the trials and dis-
couragements of daily existence ? Why is it that pallid
and terror-stricken they fly from one counsellor to anotlior,
only to experience the bitterness of remorse ? Simply
because God is not sought in the struggle of life. As re-
gards the great mass of men, God is not in all their
thoughts. To them it seems the excess of folly and the
extreme of fanaticism to spread before the Almighty their
varied wants and tell him of their ever rising griefs.
"Weak minded pietists and church members may foolishly
imagine that they derive rehcf and strength from prayer, but

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249

their better reagon teaches them the absurdity of all such
efforts to mitigate human woe. They will not degrade
their manhood by condescending to such means, and if
there is a God at all, they will not trouble him, by the
recital of human miseries, in which ho can be but re-
motely interested !" If such a theory is true, and there is
no reality in prayer, and no profit in unburdening the
soul'at the mercy seat, then thousands of the holiest men
that ever lived, have been the victims of a painful delu-
sion, and have palmed off upon the world the most terri-
ble of falsehoods. Religious men are not the ignorant and
helpless imbeciles, the world represents them io be. They
are not apt to mistake mere fancies for real heartfelt expe-
riences, and take the whisperings of reason for the voice
of God. Either such men as David found solid comfort
in communion with God, and reciived answers to their
prayers, or they were propagators of untruths and the
basest of deceivers. "When God's voice is heard respond-
ing to the cry of humanity, it can be distinguiilied from
all else. When our drooping hearts are cheered — when
sinking liopes are raised — when our path is opened up for
us, — how we can hardly tell ; — when deliverance is vouch-
safed and our dark forebodings arc banished ; — n-e biuic,
that there is a living, loving, all wise aud evor powerful
being, who ministers to tlio sorrows of his afflicted child-
ren, and is never far removed from their presence. If wo
seek such a one, we shall assuredly find him.

How many know nothing of what it is, to seek after
God ? They know what it is to seek after pleasure. Morn-
ing, noon, and night, they hasten after the fickle Goddess,
abasing their noblest emotions, in offering her a guilty
homage. They know what it is to seek after wealth, for

250

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their daily struggle is to possess this worlds goods and its
perishable treasures. They know what it is to seek after

position among the:.r fellowmeu, and stoop to all sorts of
meannesses to secure it. They know what it is to seek af-
ter the favor and friendship of the great and gifted— thoso
who aie considered influential in society, and whoso smile
is coveted as a passport to royal honours. But seeking af-
ter God, the noblest of all pursuits, is to them an unmean-
ing phrase. Why k this ? Because they do not feel the
need of God and have no desire to secure his favour.
Those who live from day to day in wilful sin, and defiance
of God, cannot possibly seek communion with him who is
infinitely holy. Interchange of thought between the two
parties is inconceivable. So long as they arc satisfied
with the ungodly conversation of the world, they cannot
relish the sweeter and purer fellowship that is associated
with secret prayer.

The relationship implied in the expression *' my God "
involves certain obligations on the part of the creature.
God as our creator has claims upon us which we cannot
renounce. To him we are indebted for all that we own
and have. To his preserving caro over us, from tl;e mo-
ment of our birth up to the present, we owe our happiness
and all our social enjoyments. We are his, in the most
literal sense of t]]o word, and entirely under his control.
It follows, that the duty of every man is to live not for
himself, but to advance the gra "" design of the Almighty
in his creation, and increase that glory, which tli(3 entire
universe so unceasingly proclaims. Such service as de-
praved creatures we (;annot render, but as redeemed souls
we may and must. Such is the relationship spoken of in
the text. " My God," is the language of a soul reconciled

A PERSONAL GOD.

251

to its Maker. It implies not merely recognition of his
claims upon us as our creator, but the liigher and nobler
service, which is due to God in Christ, from the once en-
slaved, but now emancipated soul. To repeat the words
without au honest intention of acting up to all that they
imply, is hypocrisy of the basest form — a mockery of all
that is most sacred — and the most abhorent of all possible
forms of deceitfulness. If we can conscientiously say "my
God," then we are bound to render our Lord and master
the best service of which our nature is capable. Love will
prompt to a complete surrender of all that wo have and
are to him, who by his precious blood has broken the
chains of our slavery to Satan, and made us the Lord's
free men. If on the other hand, we do not feel constrained
to live not unto ourselves, but to Him who died for us and
rose ai^ain, then there is good reason to fear that the div-
ine life, if it exists at all within our hearts, ia but faint and
feeble in its manifestations.

Finally, if we are sincere in using David's language as
our own, we will seek after a higher and holier standard
of liviii,':;", and this can only be obtained by close fellowship
with our Maker. Away from the noisy tumult of exis-
tence, we will seek the shade, where calm meditation up-
on the word and works of God may be enjoyed, and bright-
er glimpses of heaven disclosed. The most precious seas-
ons enjoyed by the child of God on this side eternity, are
often when separated like David from christian society
and the ordinary exorcises of the church. Have not many
of you found it so ? A wasting sickness has enfeebled your
constitution and laid ; ou aside from the ordinary avoca-
tions of the world and the delights of social prayer. You
seemed for a time to be like David " in a dry and parched
land, where there is no water." You panted for the water

252

A PERSONAL GOD.

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brooks, and in the bitterness of your soul cried out : "
my God, my soul is cast down -within me, all thy waves
and thy billows are gone over me." And lol almost ere
your prayer had been uttered, the answer came far above
expectation, filling the soul with holy rapture and the
Hps with unspeakable joy. In such circumstances, what
seemed a sore privation, has became a wondrous displayof
supernatural and gracious love and favour ; the angel has
pointed you to the flowing fountain in the desert, as he
directed the eyes of the despairing Hagar ; — hidden in a
cleft of the rock, you have seen glimpses of the divine glory,
which in other more favourable outward conditions, you
never enjoyed. Let none of God's children murmur even
though persecution should drive them into the wilderness,
and make them hide in caverns from the wrath of man ; —
nay though they should pine away in lonely dungeons,
where the sunbeams never enter. There is no place so
dark, but the light of heaven can illumine it. There is no
place so distant, but the ear of Jehovah can bear the feeb-
lest cry. You must go beyond tlie circle of the univ«*se,
before you can escape tho notice of a personal God. '* The
Lord will command his loving kindness in the daytime,
and in the night his song shall be with me. Why art
thou cast down, my soul ? and why art thou disquieted
within me ? Hope thou in God." Thus in the deepest
despondency we can betake ourselves to him, who never
forgets his saints.

" Oh I what tome arc trials,

With Jesus for my friend ?
Though all things else are fleeting,

His love can never end.

Should earthly friends prove faithleis,

And leave me one by one ;
I know my precious Jesus

Will ne'er forsake his own."

CKUCIFYING CHEIST.

" Thoy crucify to themselves the Son of God afresh, and put
him to an open ehame." — Hebrews, 6, v, 6.

The text forms part of a section, which has been for
ages the battle ground of theologians and denominational
sectarianism. The Calvinist has held it as most important
evidence of the doctrine known as the ' 'perseverance of the
saints ;" while the Arminian has maintained on the other
hand, that words cannot more explicity teach, that it is
quite possible for the best of God's saints to fall away to
perdition. What else can it mean says the Arminian ?
" It is impossible for those who were once enlightened,
and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made par-
takers of the Holy Ghost, and have tasted of the good
word of God, and the powers of the world to come, if they
should fall away, to renew them again to repentance ?
Surely we have here a most comprehensive description of
a child of God, — one who has attained no small measure
of gracious experiences, and who to all human appear-
ances is certain of eternal life. And yet, it is intimated
that Buch an one may fall away, and having fallen away,
is beyond hope of restoration."

254

ORUCIFYINQ CHRIST.

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It is not my purpose to combat such arguments, or

defend what we beheve to be the mind of the spirit, in re-
gard to this vital and most precious doctrine. Suffice it
to say, that the crime deUneated, is such that no child of
God can possibly commit, if the analogy of scripture is of
any value in determining the point at issue. Whether it
be the unpardonable sin, that is hero referred to, or cases
of fearful apostasy, which have occasionally occurred in
the history of the apostolic or modern church, — in neither
case do we find it illustrated in the history of the believer.
The traits of character delineated are all quite possible to
a man, who has never savingly come under the influence
of divine truth. A man may be enlightened, and yet not
illuminated by the Holy Spirit. His conception of the
scheme of redemption may be as correct as is possible for
mortal to attain in the present state of being, and yet the
heart may be in a state of spiritual darkness, without the
faintest perception, of the suitability of salvation to his
own personal wants. He may have tasted of the "heaven-
ly gift," and eujoyed for a time a serenity and peace of
mind, which he mistakes for divine peace, until awakened
in after days by the voice of conscience, he realizes when
too late, that his feelings have been produced by other
causes than a sense of pardon and acceptance with God.
He may have been made "apartakerof the Holy Ghost," —
not in his saving and sanctifying appliances, but in those
common influences or miraculous gifts, that accompanied
the first preaching of the gospel, and which seem to liavo
been possessed by others than the Apostles of the early
church. He may have "tasted the good word of God and the
powers of the world to come," — enjoyed to some extent
the promises and hopes of the gospel and become impress-
ed and seriously affected by the principles of that heavon-

CRUCIFYING CHRIST.

255

ly kingdom which Christ camo to establish, and yet after
all, be found a hypocrite and castaway in the great day of
Christ's appearing. More is needed than "intellectual
enlightenment" before a man is converted. More is need-
ed, than a simple "tasting" of God's word, and the ex-
perience of certain soothing emotions, which often spring
from mero excitement, and are dissipated and destroyed
when temptations cross onr path. It is because so many
have such partial views of divine truth, and such feeble
apprehensions of what regeneration is, that backsliding
and apostasy are so common, and the world has so much
cause to scoflt" at the infidelity of professing christians.
The blossoms of apparent piety in such cases, soon wither
and die, because their is no strong root to sustain them.
The class mentioned in the context arc said " to crmcii'y
the Son of God, ani put him to an open shame." They
virtually react the tragedy of calvary. They pronounce
hhu unworthy of confidence and allegiance. They stig-
matize him as a deceiver, — they join v.'ith the prejudiced
and infuriated Jews in pronouncing sentence of condemna-
tion, and crying " Crucify him — Crucify him." They put
ui^on hiB holy head the crown of thorns and upon his per-
son the mock robe of royalty, and as they stand within
sight and hearing of his awful agonies and groans repeat
tlio unbelieving scoff, "Ho saved others, himself he cannot
save." If this bo the correct view of the passage, it refers
to another class than God's children — who whatever bo
their sins and imperfections — their evil propensities and
' ccasional defections, can never be guilty of such a crime.
It is of the " enemies of the cross of Christ " that my text
speaks, those yrho tread under foot the Son of God and
count the blood of the covenant an unholy thing and do
despite unto the spirit of grace ; — thoBC of whom it is else-

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CRUCIFYING CHRHT.

whero said," — If we sin wilfully after that we have receiv-
ed the knowledge of the truth, there remaineth no more
sacrifice for sins, but a certain fearful looking for of judg-
and fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversaries."

God forbid, that I should address any man or woman
guilty of such a crime, and yet, there may be some fast
drifting into such a state of mind, all unknown to them-
selves and their fellow creatures. It is to warn such of
their peril, that I desire to call attention to the sin of
crucifying afresh the Son of God.

I take it for granted that there is in every christian
congregation but one opinion held concerning the murder-
ers of our Lord. As we read the simple story of his suf-
ferings a feeling of intense indignation rises in the mind, at
the base ingratitude, the shameful treachery and the in-
describable cruelty, that characterized the Jews in their
treatment of the Son of God. Had he been the greatest
felon, his punishment could not have been more severe,
nor its mode more ignominious. But when we reflect
upon the sinless perfections of his nature — his compassion
for the lost and fallen — his wondrous yearnings after the
souls of men and the unparalleled sufferings and sacrifices
he endured to affect such an end — tlio crucifixion of Cal-
vary stands out in the history of humanity as the very
darkest depth of human criminality. No wonder that the
heavens were clothed in darkness, and that nature amid
her rending rocks and opening graves protested against
such wickedness, and witnessed in silent majesty for the
innocence of her suffering Lord. " Never surely is man,
in all the possibilities of futurity, destined again to con-
summate a wickedness like this. It must be forever soli-

CRUGiryiNO CHRIST.

257

tary in the world, an event placed beyond anticipation,
ropotitiou or parallel ; a lonely and terrible monument of
unapproachable guilt."

And yet the apostle tells us it may be repeated, and is
daily repeated under the Christian dispensation. Very
true, men do not actually crucify the body of Jesus,
or drive the nails into his quivering flesh ; but in spirit
and in reality the deed is done, and the guilt is as real as
when the cross was set up in Calvary. We must not at-
tempt to get rid of the fearful possibility ot crucifying a-
fresh the Lord of glory, by saying it is figurative language.
It is not exnggcration, it is not extravagant colouring, it
is nothing but literal truth, when the inspired Penman
says that mou have the power to prolong the agonies of
the incarnate GoJ, and do so by their unbelief — by their
impenitence — by their disregard of heaven's entreaties,
and by their determined opposition to the rebukes of con-
science. It is of no use to say as many do when defending
themselves against such a char^je, "wo entertain no such
feelings towards the Saviour as did the Jews. Wo believe
in his divinity. We acknowledge his claims. Wo admire
his perfections. We would gladly have stood near the
cross and raised our voices against his murderers. Nay,
wo would have accounted it an honour to have shc^. our
blood in testimony of our attachment to his person r.: d
principles." Place yourselves in the same pci'lion as
were the enemies of Christ, when neutrality was impos-
sible, and your conduct to-day would havo forced you to
take sides, with those who hurried him to the cross. "He
that is not witli rae is against me" says the Saviour. In-
difference — lukewarmness — standing aloof — folowingafar
off, all these are the sure evidence that you are not pre-

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CRUCIFYING CHRIST.

pared to acknowledge him as your Lord. Tlicro is no
middle ground in this matter, and however much men may
deceive thcraficlves to the contrary, every soul that docs
not openly confess his love to the Lord Jesus Christy must
be placed among those who "crucify the Lord afresh" and
put him to an open shame. It is by the outward conduct
that we must judge. To God alone belongs the prerogative
of weighing in the scales of impartial judgment, the senti-
ments of the heart and the emotions of the soul.

The crime of " Crucifying the Son of God afresh " is not
then made against those who reject his divinity. In their
case, their conduct is at least consistent with their creed.
Regarding Christ as they do, it is impossible that they
should give to him such honor as belongs to God's holy
Son. In their estimation he was guilty of blnsphcmy
when he presumed to arrogate to himself royal preroga-
tives, and declared himself at once the Saviour and sover-
eit^n judge of men. "We do not defend such a class. Wo
pity the man who in face of the testimony of scripture,
can go no further in his conceptions of the incarnate Son
of God. But not of such a class did the apostle Paul pri-
marily speak, although they may with propriety bo
included among the number, who crucify to themselves
tho Sou of God afresh, and put him to an open shame.

Nor is the charge made against Ritualists and Roman-
ists of tho present day, who conceal the great facts of
Christ's atoning sacrifice under frivolous, unmeaning, and
superstitious ceremonies, and make the great doctrines of
Christianity of inferior importance, in faith and practice.
In one important sense it is true they do crucify and tor-
ture anew both the Saviour and the saving truths of our
religion, by associating them with the most degrading and

;!!

CRUCIPYINO CHRIST.

269

pernicious forms of carnal worbhip. While pretending to
reverence and venerate the " Cross" and everythiu*,' tliat
belongs remotely to the •• Cross " and paHsion of Christ,
they teach men that salvation is to bo secured by literal
conformity to mere bodily observances, rather than
through the blood of the Lamb. The Priests of Ritualism
and Romanism at the present day, are doing more to un-
dermine the foundations of our faith, then infidelity or
unitarianism, since the days of Hume and Bolinghoke. Like
Judas Iscariot they betray the Son of Man with a kiss,
while with their hands they erect the cross. Nor has the
apostle before his mind, those who make no pretence to
religious feelings at all. A largo portion in every commu-
nity are of this class. They live and die like the brutes
that perish, without God and without hope in the world.
They never rise beyond the things of the present, their
end is destruction — their God is their belly — their glory is
their shame and they mind only earthly things. Why
they exist at all — what they shall become — and how they
are to meet an angry God, — if indeed their bo a future
state at all — are questions that never enter into their cal-
culations. They also in a striking sense, crucify the Lord
of glory and put him to an open shame, by persistently
refusing the salvation which he offers, but they are not the
persons against whom primarily the apostle brings the
charge of the text.

I remark then by way of indicating those who are in
danger of committing the sin of the text, that it is quito
possible to profess a certain measure of love to Christ, and
respect for his character and yet be guilty of crucifying
him afresh. I need only in evidence of the statfcmcut
point you to the case of the Jews themselves. There can
be no doubt, but that among the masses of his country-

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260

CRUCIFYING CHRIST.

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men Christ was rallicT beloved than hatecl. The priests

would have put him to death, long before his hour had
come, had it not been that they feared the common people.
Crowds followed him in his ministry, and on his entrance
to Jerusalem made the air resound with loud hosannahs.
On his way to the cross a great company of people and
much women, followed him bewailing and lamenting the
innocent sufferer. It is evident from all this, that on the
surface, there was a good deal of sentimental sorrow and
enthusiasm for the Son of God. There were times when
many were "very near the Kingdom " and almost persua-
ded to p.ccopt his yoke and become his subjects, and yet
when the hour of trial came all forsook him. Without one
dissenting voice, save the feeble protest of the Roman
Governor, they called for his blood and followed him to
Calvary with Uic maledictions of fiends. Those same men
who spread their garments and branches of palm trees on
the way in honor of the new found King, were the very
men who helped to make his cross, and plait his crown of
thorns and drive the nails into his hands and feet. And
It it so still, for human nature is .susceptible of the same
moods under all conditions. There is a patronising form of
religion, which flourishes at certain periods in tlie history
of the chuich, and gives to Christ a large amount of sym-
ppjthy and favor. It takes the form of bland expressions
— of sweet endearing epithets — of SGctimental hymns and
adorations, ail ascribed to the Messiah. When love to the
name can be exhibited without active devotion to his cause
or sacrifices for the truth, — when there is a sort of romance
and eclat connectod with the church of Christ, then such
amiable traits of character come to the surface, and secure
for their possessors a high place in the affections of the
truly good. But when the hour of suffering draws near,

CUUCIFYINQ CHRIST.

261

nnd Pilato sits upon the bench, and the leaders of public
opinion demand crucifixion, an«l religion becomes a des-
pised, degraded and dishonored thing, then these much
admired but mere temporary disciples of Jesus, forsake
his company and take sides with those who put him to
death. They will rather sacrifice the Lord than surren-
der their own pleasures ; they will rather crucify the Son
of Man than faithful to their professions, cling to his
standard I

To bo more specific. Those who without good reason
persistently refuse to confess his name, are in danger of
the guilt of my text — " Crucifying afresh the Son of God."
Who \t down with Jesus at the passover feast, on the
night in which he was betrayed ? The disciples. Why on-
ly the disciples ? Because to no others had that Sacra-
mental feast any meaning whatever. The outside world
derided the man and the religion he preached, and while
he and the disciples were enjoying heavenly fellowship,
was plotting for his apprehension, conviction and death.
The Jews professed themselves perfectly satisfied with
tlieir choice of Barabbas, and willing to bear the conseijuen-
ces. If Christ was crucified, they were willing to have
his blood laid to their charge.

Now at first sight, it does seem uncharitable to asso-
ciate non-professors of reliiJioii with the murderers of
Christ. The heart recoils from such a charge. And yot,
ostensibly at least, every man or woman who rejects tho
command of Christ to remember his death, must be num-
bered with the enemies of Christ. We make moral dis-
tinctions now-a-days, that have no warrant in scripture.
We draw fine shades of human g'lilt, that cannot bo de-
fended in the light of reason or common sense. It is not

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262

CRUCIFYING CHRIST.

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my declaration, but the declaration of Him who cannot

lie, and who alone can judge the measure and deserts of
human guilt, that in the great contest between light and
darkness, we must choose our leader. Lukewarmness —
indecision — continued resistance to the calls of God's
grace, are accounted worthy of as much condemnation as
open alliance with the scoffer and the infidel. So long as
any man of common iutolligence, continues apart from
the friends of Christ, whatever his secret feelings may be,
the world that lies in wickedness has a right to claim him
as its own. If, my hearers, there can be degrees of guilt
in this matter, then I hold that refusal to profess Christ at
tin present day, is a more terrible crime than what it was
in the days of the apostles. The information then dissem-
inated among the masses was much more limited than it
IS to-day. The difficulties that surrounded those who were
half inclined to accept of christiinity, were incomparably
more formidable than they are to-day. The prejudices
that were fostered by the ruling spirits of the synagogue,
have no existence at the present day. "Forgive them, "
said Christ, " for they know not what they do." Although
every single Jew was sharer in the guilt of Christ's mur-
der, they were led on by designing men, whose autiiority
was paramount, and whose frowii or favour they were ac-
customeu -o recognize as law. We cannot in view of such
f icts refuse, at least to temper our judgment, when speak-
ing of the guilt of the Jewish nation. But in the full
blaze of the Christian revelation, with no obtitacles to be-
lief, save men's own innate depravity and perversity ; with
such satisfactory proof of our Saviour's divinity and with
the all but universal concurreuce of the world as regards
tlie value of Christ's atonement, men are tenfold mere
guilty at tho present day, who refuse to acknowledge his

CRUCIFYING CHRIST.

263

claims and yiclcl to his authority. Do not say that the

fact of liaving Christ in the flesh, aggravated the guilt of

the Jews. Ho who rejects Christ now, would far more
certainly have rejected Christ nineteen hundred years ago,
and joined with his enemies in putting him to death. The
leading men of the synagogue boasted that -'had they
lived in the days of their fathers, they would not have been
partakers with them in the blood of the Prophets " and im-
mediately set ahout the murder of Christ. Unbelief is the
same to-day as it was in Jerusalem of old.

I remark again, that professing Christians crucify to
themselves the Son of God afresh, by every act that is in-
consistent with their holy vocation. It matters not liow
often we say " Lord God " if we do not the things that ho
commands us. Our prayers and praises may be most fer-
vent and becoming, while our feelings may be that of the
persecutors of the Saviour. "And one shall say unto him,
what are theso wounds in thine hands ? Then he shall an-
swer, those with which I was wounded in the house of my
friends." Tlio sufferings of Christ upon the cross, as we
understand them, were more of a mental tiian a bodily
kind. The nails that lacerated the flesh and drew the
blood were but faint indices of the awful sorrow and pro-
found grict that darkened his heart. And now, in heaven,
while there can bo no more /iVc/vj/ crucifixion of the exalted
one, there may still be tho more bitter, because unexpect-
ed crucifixion by professed friends. Christ is not indift'er-
ent to the treatment he receives at tho hands of men. He
is susceptible in some form to mental pain. His wounds
can yet be opened, and his heart again can bleed. We
can by thoughtless w^ords and actions, — by nnbecomhig
and inconsistent associations, — and by lowering the stan-

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264

CRUCIFYING CHRIST.

dard of purity, do much against the name of Christ. The
world and the church, are often thus united in a common
attack against vital godhness ; and we cannot doubt what
are the results, so far as truth is concerned. Scoffers are
emboldened — undecided ones falter — simple minded ones
are staggered and perplexed. Herein lies the greatest
danger of professing Christians. Eemoved though they
may be by divine grace from the commission of more flag-
rant crimes, they are very apt to fall into lesser tempta-
tions, that brirg greater scandal upon the church of Christ
than the glaring transgressions of the openly profane.
Our standard of holinesss need be very high and our grac-
ious supports very strong, to prevent such frequent deflec-
tions. The social life of the man of the world and that of
the christian professor, are so blended and interlaced at
the present day ; religion is so often associated with what
is carnal, although it may be innocent, that to preserve
our true dignity and heavenly deportment, is the greatest
problem that presents itself to the child of God. Many a
man who would recoil with horror from the possibility of
his uniting with the murderers of our Lord, and who
thinks honestly enough, that if he were placed in such
circumstances, would vindicate his christian fidelity at
whatever cost — frequently and it may be unconsciously,
" cruifies the Lord afresh. " His sin unlike the hardened
profligate is pardonable, but the sorrow and pain remain,
long days after a sense of pardon has been felt.

The
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ir grac-
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Many a
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THE DECETTFULNESS OF SIN.

" And DaviiVs aiiRor was Rroatly kimllrd ap;ni)ist tlio man ; and lie
Kaiil to NaUiri'i, astlin I.ortl livfUi, tlio man tliat liath done tlii;i tlii«{^
sliall surely die."---'Jnd Samuel, I'Jth c, otl: v.

" And i:Ta7.acl said, but what ! is thy servant a doj^, that he should
do this yreav thing?"— 2nd Kiug.s, 81h c, ]:^th v.

"The heart is deceitful abovp all things and de^pcratelv wicked.
Who can know it :^"— Jeremiah, 17th c, !Hh v.

That the heart is deceitful, hardly needs proof. The
more it is studied, tlio more deceitful it appears. The
history.of the world, and our own experience proves it.
In advan;.e of the latter, the Bible testifies to the fact.
Tlie iirst act of sin committed in the world was deception.
The last soul lost, will ho by deception. It is one thing
however to admit intellectually the truth of the proposition,
and anotiier thing to feel its truth.

Let lis first take the case of King David, as illustrating
the doceitfulncss of sin, in the case of a child of God. The
story as narrated in the chapter from which our first text
is taken, is too well known to require lengthened repeti-
tion. Admitting that the customs of Oriental courts are
not to he judged by the purer morality of the present^ there

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266

THE DECEIIFULNESS OF SIN.

Ml
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is no excnse for David's airfal crime. He was not a de«
based, ignorant man, nor a brutalized tyrant, who lived
only for the indulgence of his passions, but tender and
sensitive, and possessed of a conscience that on ordinary
occasions sharply reproved bim for wrong doing. Yet this
man after God's own heart, sinned after a manner, that
would in modern times, stamp with the seal of eternal ig*
nominy f

Nathan the prophet is sent to discover bis guilt
and lead him to repentance. The King's judgment is asked
upon an imaginary act of cruelty. "There were two men
in one city ; the one rich, and the other poor. But t^ '*
poor man had nothing save one little ewe lamb, which he
had bought and nourished up ; and it grew up together
with him and his children ; it did eat of his own meat, and
drank of his own cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto
him as a daughter. And there came a traveller unto the
rich man, and he spared to take of his own flock and of
his own herd lo dress for the wayfaring man that was come
to him," There could not be two opinions of such an act.
The indignation of the King is at once aroused, and he de-
clares that death is the only adequate punishment for such
an offence. "As the Lord liveth, the man that hath done
tliis thing shall surely die ; and he shall restore the lamb
fourfold, because he did this thing, and because he had no
pity." When the King's auger is thus aroused, theproph-
fit with terrible force, wields the lash. "And Nathan said
to David, thou art the man ; thus saith the Lord God of
Israel, I anointed thee King over Israel, and I delivered
thee out of the hand of Saul : Wherefore hast thou des-
pised the commandment of the Lord, to do evil in his
sight ? Thou hast killed Uriah, the Hittite, with the sword,

THE DECEITFULNE8S OF BIN*

267

and bast taken his wife to be thy wife, and bast slain bim
with the sword of the children of Ammon." Of all men,
David surely should have acted differently. Honoured and
anointed as King — tbe subject of so many special deliver-
ances, and upon whom God bad lavished mercies with un-
sparing generosity, such conduct was base and deserving
of the severest judgment.

It is not Indeed to be wondered at, that infidels point
tbe finger of scorn at such notable instances of guilt. It
is argued that the morality of the Bible is no better than
that of the world ;— that it cannot be a divine revelation
and contain such contradictious, and that taking David as
a type of christian character, profession of rehgion; gives
no security against the practice of vice and wickedness.
These are but natural though false conclusions from a su-
perficial study of such phases of character, for the Bible
never holds up any man as a perfect example of conduct.
Its truthfulness is shown by the fact, that the crimes of
the best of men are exposed in all their hideousness. Hu-
man biographers conceal or palliate the defects of their
heroes, but not so the "Word of God. Nor does it ever ex-
pose such flagrant crimes, without at the same time admin-
istering rebuke. Sin is condemned unsparingly and the
guilty punished. What is good in the man is never taken
as an excuse for the evil. Nor does the Bible in any case
declare mere profession to be a safeguard against tempta-
tion. Nothing but divine grace can enuLle a maL to rise
superior to the commission of the most dreadful atrocities.
And finally, such sad spectacles of guilt are intended to
magnify the mercy of God. There is no human creature
80 degraded and lost, as to be beyond the limits of pardon.

David's crime was aggravated by his apparent uncon-
cern* A year had now elapsed since the death of Uriah,

2G8

TUE DECEITFULNESS OF SIX.

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but as yet he Lad ^hen no outward sign of contrition.
Did the King regard it as but a venial sin ? Had he no
compunction R of joti science when he looked upon the wid-
owed wife ? Had he forsjot it amid the hixuries of the pal-
ace and the flatteries of bis attendants ? or did ho defy
conscience and endeavor to brave it out before the world ?
The last is most probable. He knew that he had done
wrong. Memory could not be silent. The evidence of
his wickedness was daily before iiim. Yet this inner sense
of wrongdoing, does not in the least interfere with his out-
ward life. He acts as if pure and guiltless of human blood !
Conscience was asleep. Nothing marked the struggle that
was going on within.

In proportion to such ingratitude and criminality must
be the punishment, "Now therefore, tbo sword shall nev-
er depart from thine house ; because thou hast despised
mo, and hast taken the wife of Uriah, thcHittite, to be thy
wife. Behold, I will raise up evil against thee out of thiiie
own nouse, and I will take thy wives-' before thine cycB, and
give them unto thy neighbour, and he shall lie with thy
wives in the sight of this sun. For thou didst it secretly ;
but I will do this thing before all Israel, and before the
sun.

»»

The end of the Prophets mission has now been gained.
David's confession proves how deeply he reahzed his guilt.
"I have sinned against the Lord." In the pcnitcutiul
psalm, written it is supposed on this occasion, he says :
**Wash me thoroughly from mine iuiquiiy, and cleanse mc
from mine sin. For I acknowledge my transgressions ;
and my sin is ever before mc. Against Thee, Thee only,
have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight." In^taut-
aneous forgiveness follows his confession, "The Lord,

THK DECEl'ii ULNE88 OF SIN.

2(jt)

says Natbau, hath put away thy siu , thou shalt not die."
This is the universal method of divine pailon. The cus-
tom of the world is very different. Before we extend our
sympathy and aid to the fallen and outcast, we would tcs-
the sincerity of their repentance, and put them upon the
rack, and torture them with inquisitorial fires. How dif-
ferent the conduct of Christ ? "Go and sin no more."
•'Thy sins which are many are forgiven thee." Swifttr
than the electric spark speeds to the ends of the earth does
forgiveness follow confession. The sin is no more remem-
bered. The pardon is complete.

Let us now take the case of Hazael as also illustrating
the deceitfulness of sin. Benhadad, the Syrian monarch,
was sick. His character as drawn by the pen of inspira-
tion is far from pleasing. Again and again he bad made
war upon the Israelites, plundered their fields, depopulated
their cities, and carried their wives and children into cap-
tivity. But now the strong man is humbled. At the im-
perious bidding of a foe that knows of no defeat, ho has
been obliged to yield, and lies prostrate upon a bed of
agony. In the extremity of his distress he sends his servant
to enquire of the prophet Elisha, as to the probable issue of
his disease. "Take a present in thine hand, and go meet
the man of God, ond enquire of him saying, shall I recov-
er from my disease ?" The answer of the prophet, calls
forth the indignant retort of the text. "Elisha said tmto
Hazael, Go, say unto him, thou mayest certainly recover ;
howbcit the Lord hath shewed me that he shall surely die."
As he speaks, the prophet weeps, andHazaelsays ; "Why
weepeth my lord ?" "Because," reiilies EHsha, "I know
the evil that thou will do unto the children of Israel ; their
strongholds wilt thou set on fire, and their young men wilt

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270

THB DECEITFULNESB OF SIN.

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thou slay mth the sword, and wilt dash their children, anu
rip up their women with child." And Hazael said : "bat
what ! is thy servant a dog, that he should do this great
thing ?" and now mark the result. "It came to pass on
the morrow, that he took a thick cloth, and dipped it in
water, and spread it on his face, so that he died ;and
Hazael reigned in his stead." Whether the determination
of Hazael to take away his Master's life was conceived,bo-
fore or after his interview with the prophet Elisha, is im-
material. The whole tenor of the narrative, seems to point
to the conclusion that he had resolved upon the death of
Benhadad, before the prophet announced the fact. But if
we take the milder view of his conduct, and instead of
charging him with premeditated murder when he stood be
fore the prophet, consider his reply as an outburst of in-
dignation at the imputation of such a crime ; — what a
striking proof does it give us of the lamentable weakness of
human nature, when depending upon its own inherent
strength !

The sketch is by no means fanciful or exceptional. It
is true to life. We have seen it frequently exemplified in
the case of men occupying high positions in society — men
who imagined themselves far above mean or despicable
actions ;— and who if charged with the commission of gross
wickedness would have answered : "Is thy servant a dog,
that he should do this thing ?" But a time came, when
some tempting allurement dazzled then* ambition, and fired
their cupidity — not perhaps as in the case of Hazael, a
crown and sceptre — but some desirable worldly position,
whera their most eager longings would be satisfied. And
for the attainment of this gUttering bauble-— friendships,
consistency, rectitude and conscience itself, were sacrificed

THE DECElTFULNESa OF SIN.

271

on the altar of Mammon.- And so it must ever be, when
men rely upon their own strength to resist or overcome
temptation. "He that trusteth to his own heart is a fool."
Our only safety is in reliance upon promised grace and the
might of omnipotence.

How true then the language of the prophet Jeremiah,
*'The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately
wicked." The language is strong. The case is beyond
human remedies. It is as when the physician gives up
the patient. The full idea intended can scarcely bo em^
bodied in speech. Deceitful above all things in the uni«
verse. The sea is deceitful — the clouds are deceitful — the
serpent is deceitful, but the heart more deceitful still.
How far it is asked can a man be the subject of deception?
To the very gates of eternity ! Numerous death beds prove
it. False standards of hviiness are set up, and efforts
made to reach these standards and nothing beyond, until
finally, the man opens bis eyes in hell !

The connection between sin and its consequences is not
always apparent, but every step in wrong doing, is a direct
advance towards perdition. Omniscience alone can see in
all its details, the intimate relationship that exists between
sin and death. Now and again however, the curtain is
raised by some fearful felony or act of blood, and we see
the progressive nature of sin and its certain end. Thoro
are some who at their very first entrance upon life.seemed
possessed of the recklessness of the matured libertine. But
in the vast majority of cases, it is by repeated declensions
and successive degradations, that men reach the abyss of
moral pollution and stand confronted before the world as
moral castaways. Fallen and depraved as humanity is,

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272

THE DKCKITFULNESS OF SIN.

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Bill in its more revolting aspects, is not all at once iu-
(lulged iu. It is only after the conscience has been en-
feebled by rcpeateil acts of sin, that it yields and casts ofif
all laws, human and divine. In proof of tlio fact, need we
appeal to tlic startlintj disclosures of our judicialrecords —
the mournful confessions of jirisMiers in our jails andpeni-
tentaries and the dying statements of malefactors ? All
those attest the seductive, soul-destroying power of sin.
The man who habitually profanes God's holy name, was
not always a professed blasphemer. There was a period
in his history when ho would have shuddered at the whis-
per of an oath. The poor drunkard who now staggers
along the street, was not born with the inveterate, un-
quenchable thirst for strong drink. There was a time,
when like Hazael, ho would have scorned the imputation
of intemperance, conscious of his inherent strength to re-
sist temptation. And so with the convicted felon — the
licentious debauchee and the condemned murderer. All
those were at one time, highly respectable men, according
to the common acceptation of the word. Their characters
were unimpeachable, and their morality fully up to the
standard of society. Swerve who might from the path of
virtue and hitcgrity they felt perfectly secure. But alas 1
in an evil hour, they yielded to the solicitations of the
tempter, and from that moment their doom was irrevocably
sealed.

h"! Mi

No man of himself, ia secure against the commission of
the most fearful atrocities. The history of humanity and
our daily obsorvati«on proves it. The best of men are ca-
pable of the most abominable wickedness. It matters
not how high a man siands in the opinion of the commu-
nity and church, and however honorable be his antecedents,

THK DKCEITl-fLNESS 01" SIN.

27H

— but ior the grace of Gotl, lio is ever lial;lc to Tail, iflio rc-
lioH on his own personal goodness. Sritan was oneo an
anf'cl of lioJit — now lie is a iicud. " Let liim Hint iliinl;-
otli ho standcth, take iiccd lest ho full."

If such bo the character of our hearts, it phould iudnco
humility l)eforc God. How apt wo are to boast of our
powers and faculties— of our judj^ment and reason — of our
shrewdness and foresi^'ht ! Other men may err and stum-
ble, but wo are infallible. Nov do disap])ointmnnts leach
us, the ignorance and weabnRss that belongs to sinful hu-
manity. Instead of confessing the innate perversion of
tho afloctions and will from all that i^ good, we bocomo
more deliant and vaiu gloriou ; of our wisdom. If wo full
ini.o temptation, wo blamo external eircumstauces. rather
than acknowledge the dQccitfulncss and wickedness of our
h'^'ivts.

Ih 'i^'itiou to humility, we need to practice constant
vigilance, and guard against tho fh'st attacks of .sin. AVo
should hate it as God hates it. It presents itself in a
thousand forms and pleads with a tliousand arguments.
Covert assaults are more dangerous than open blows.
The tioacherous revolver of the sharp-shooter is more fa-
tal than the caunon ball on tho iiL-ld of battle. The world
as a whole is a grand masrjnerade. Men aro not what
they seem. The vilest passions arc decked in tho fairest
colours, lest tlioy shock the sensitiveness of tho simple-
miuded and ingemious. Could wo indeed sro tho decoit-
fulness of sin as God sees it, and tlic proncness of our
hearts to what is unholy and unclean, we would bo horh-
lio.l at tho sight. Tho ocean may bo fathomed ; tlie size,
distance and velocity of the .stars and planets ma;> be com-
puted ; — tho lightning (Insh mny bo arrested in its course,

271

THE DrcEITFT'LNESS OF BIN.

f i

but tho (losporato wickedness of tho hniu an heart can never
1)0 fnlly measured. Like poor sickly children totterinpf
above the brink oi" a precipice, so are tlio best of Christ*
ians when surrounded by temptation.

"Man's wisdom is to seek
Itis stiTiiK'tli in (rotl alont! ;
And oven an anKcl would be weak,
Who trusted to his own."

The vast amount of practical atheism that exists at tho
present day is ])orn of the deceitfulness and desperate
wickedness of the liuman heart. It is true that tho evi-
dences for the being of a God arc manifold, and men can-
not help believing in tho existence of a supremo being.
As llowers look upward to the sun, so does juan seek af-
ter the innnortal ever-living God. As tho sparks rise hea-
venward, so docs the soul towards its maker. In lonely
hours of mental suffering, the instincts of our bettor nat-
ure, like tho clinging tendrils of the vine or ivy, feel after
a being possessed of more than human sympathy ; ono
who can bo confided in, in times of weakness, and trusted
unhesitatingly in seasons of desertion and despair.

r>ut while atheism iii the abstract is rare, many there are
who wish there were no God. You find it in company with
most respectable creeds and orthodox churches. Men who
would not lor the world be branded as atheists, live such
lives as can only be accounted for on the supposition that
belief in a Divine Being has been renounced, as false and
foolish. Bad as human nature is, there are crimes and
courses of sin which men engage in, thatare only possible,
where the conscience is paralysed and man reduced to a
level with the brute creation ! When the obligations and
restraints of religion become irksome and oppressive, it is
the most natural of all things to take refuge in atheism.

TUE DECEITFULNEbd Ol- tJlN.

275

n never

attorin^

Christ-

;s at 11 10
Irspcrate
tlio cvi-
ncn cnn-
10 bcin-:;.
seek nf-
, risclica-
u Joiioly
itter nat-
locl after
tliy; ono
il trusted
ir.

there arc
iany witli
Men who
live such
ition that
false and
L-imes and
y possible,
need to a
itions and
3sive, it is
atheism.

By u long course of wickedness, conscience becomes so de-
bauched and degraded, that what in ether conditions would
bo regarded as hideous and revolting, becomes sufferablt

and fascinathig. See that little child at its mother's knee,
lisping its evening prayer. Between that sweet emblem
of innocence and the unfallen angels that hover over it,
there seems but a little space. You would hardly belicvu
that such simple childhke faith would ever change to
coarse, unreasoning atheism. But it does — and how ?
The child grows up to manhood. The time comes when
he must go forth into the world, where, unless followed by
the guardian angel of his infancy, ho is beset at every
point with the Devil's snares ! Finally .there comes the cri-
sis of his fate, when perdition in time or eternity, or a
christian manhood rich in good deeds and certain of ii
blessed hereafter, tremble in the balance ! He yields, and
takes his place on the inclined plane that leads to infamy.
And now gradually, but surely, the breach is widened be-
tween him and purity, until at last it seems impossible to
go back. Standing like the petrilicd, horror-struck In-
dian, who awakes when too late, to find his canoe ni the
boihng rapids ; face to face with a dreadful eternity ; char-
acter and reputation gone , the pliysical and mental and
moral energies worn out and wasted, he cries out, "No
God ! No God !' Atheism gives momentary rchef to such
souls. No God, means no judgment day — no hell — no
eternity of misery. Annihilation is a coveted end to a hie
of shame and moral ruin.

This deccitfulness of the human heart abuses God's
mercy and turns the grace of God into liecntiousnebs. Be-
lay in punishment strengthens unbelief in an avenging provi-
dence. "Because sentence against evil is not executed

270

rUL DKCElTi ULNKbis Ok SIN.

■ ml

■¥

tf'h

i >

if'

I' I

!■

spcj'ilily, tlicrcioic the Lciirt oi" the soiuj of mcu i^j fully bct
in them to do evil. "

"Tremble, thou wrctcli.
Tliiit liii-it witliiii the(> umlivulKed crimes
Cir.vliii)i)ecl of justici',"

Siiys the j'oct ; but so long as crime romaius uiipunibhoil,
mou 'TOW (Uli[iut rather than timid. Thev mistake the
mercy and forbearance oi God for v/cakncss. They be-
come bold and rccklesb and attempt greater monstrosities.
"God hath fur^'ottcn, lie hideth his face ; lie will never
sec it. liow duth God know '.* Can he judge tlu'ough the
dark cloud ■.* Ls there knowled'j;e in the Most High?" It
secius strange to buch cliaracters tliat justice should not
track them, and the marks of God's vengeance brand them
l>ei'ore the world. And when, on the contrary, they pros-
per in their wickedness ; when it is found no inconven-
ience in so-called christian societies to lead immoral lives,
need we wonder though men should say : ''No God — No
God:>"

The great increase in ciime prevalent in nuidern sotiet\',
cannot fail to strike tlie most casual observer of passing
events. Gigantic dishonesties and wild speculations,
wiiichdefy alike the laws of God and nuui; men of hitherto
uuimpoached voracity aud reputed purity of conduct
accused and eouvictcd of prolligacy and falsehood ; and in-
trigues and nuu'ders of the deepest and dtirkest criminal-
ity, form tiie staple topics of the daily press. It would
teem as if Satan in ten thousand forms had broken loose
in our world, and poisoned the atmosphere with the mal-
aria oi" hell itself. Ye shall not surely die, is again whis-
pered by the serpent, as when in Paradise he tempted and
ovcrcimc. Now ni such a crisis, when society sutlers mo re

TUK iJKCEITKLL.NESsi 01' HIS.

277

iiUy bct

nibhoi],
ako thu
licy bc-
I'ositics.
!1 never
ugh the
I'?' It
iiild not
id them
!y prob-
ionvcn-
iil Hvos,
od — No

terribly thuii wlicu pestilence hurries ite thoubunds to the
ynivc, what is the duty of christian men ?— of those who
behuvc in tlie cxistcneo of a God, who shall render to every
man accordhig to his deeds \> Clearly to act as under the in-
spcctionofthcAll-sceiugEyc —to exemplify purity of
thought, word, and action, in contrast with the flagrant
wrongs, unblushing fraudsand guilty allianccs,which shock
the ear of delicacy and mantle the cheek with shame.

society,
passaig
ilations,
bitherto
conduct
; and in-
riminal-
t would
^n loose
ic mal-
n whis-
)tcd and
rs mo re

Si'':

!»

CONFESSION AND FORGIVENBSS.

"I ftcknowlcdKod luy sin uuto Thco, nud miuciuiquity have I not
hid."— rsaliu 32, v. 5.

"If wo confess our sins, He is faithful and just to for(»ivc us our
siu», aud to clcuuso \u from all uurighteousncss." — Itit John, 1st, v D.

A largo portion of the Book of Psalms is taken up with
confession of sin. "I acknowledge my transgressions, anil
my sin is ever before me. Against Thee, Thee only have
I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight," so wo read in
another place. The manner in which the confession is
made, abundantly proves the sincerity of the speaker. If
David committed during his life great wrongs against his
Maker and his fcllowmon, he evidently realized their guilt
and magnitude. The memory of his sins, and the intense
and prolonged sorrow they produced, was in itself no small
punishment. But his confession of sin was fruitful in re-
sults. His conscience was relieved and his iniquities for-
given. In the previous verses of this Psalm, ho describes
a blessedness all his own. lie had not sought to extenuate
or cover over his sins from man or God, but God had cov-
ered over his transgressions and fully pardoned his sins.
"Blessed therefore, says David, is the man, unto whom the

CONFESSION AND FORGIVENESS.

27! »

;s.

Lord imputoth not iniquity, mid in wliose spirit tlioro is
110 p:uilo."

Lot us onquiro what arc the characteristics of truo con-
fession and what are its blessed results, as opposed to the
folly of attempting to hide sin.

I. — True confession is always comprehensiire and min-
ute. When a man goes into the presence of his Maker to
confess sin, he has little call to enlarge upon the failings of
his neighbours. If his heart bo in a proper frame, ho will
find more than enough to occupy his moments of com-
munion with heaven, purely connected with his own char-
acter and conduct. That man who like the Plmrisoo,
mourns over the shortcomings and inconsistencies of his
follow men, forgetful of his own greater deficiencies, has
but a poor conception of his personal guilt. No man can
confess but in a very general way the sins of others — no
man can have the knowledge of another's heart that ho
possesses of his own. The most dangerous and aggrava-
ted sins of men, work all unseen in the secret chambers of
thought, and aficct the character only indirectly. Con-
fession of sin must therefore bo purely an individual act
between the sinner and his God, demanding penitence on
the part of the one, before there can be mercy on the part
of the other. Definite confessions are just as necessary as
pointed prayers. To dilate upon the sinfulness and de-
pravity of human nature in the aggregate, and mourn over
the idolatry and wickedness of unenlightened lands, when
there is no perception of individual unworthiness, and no
strong desire after pardon, is mockery in the sight of God.
Many a man, morning and evening confesses the sins of
tho world, who never once feels his own. He has no re-
membrance of the evil thoughts and words and actions of

2H0

CONFKHSION AND FORdlVKNKHS.

t '.<

i )

the previous day — wherein he has endeavored to taico ad-
vanta,c!:o of his fellow, and openly violate God's liol" law ;
and wheroiii tlHoiiL,'li tlio strcnjjth ol' temptation, ]»e lias
yielded to the evil one, and overcome tho remonf^f ranees
of conscience. Such prayer gives evidence of superiicial
and unscriptiiral views, in re^'ard to the nature of sin, and
its just rccompcuce here and hereafter.

There is a vast amount of this unprofitable and insin-
cere confession prevalent in fellowship meotinp;s, and al-
so we f(3ar in private devotion. A stereotyped phrasnolof/y
is common, that has no more reference to the condition of
one man more than another. There is also a manner of
confessing and exaggerating shis, which never proceeds
from real sorrow, but is occasioned by an evident desire to
bo considered very humble and very penitent. Some men
Becni to have positive pleasure in recounting in the hear-
ing of others, the excesses and depravities of their lives.
They regard themselves as sort of heroes, in proportion as
they enumerate past crimes and build up a reputation for
holiness and piety, upc)n the atrocious wickednesses of tlio
past. Nay in some cases, men confess sins, which were
they really guilty of, would forever exclude them from the
feilowship of their companions, and render them monsters
of vice in their own estimation. "I am the chief of sin-
ners," said the cardinal. "It is too true," said the monk.
•'I have been guitly of every sin," sighed the cardinal.
"It is a solemn fact, my son," said the monk. "I have
indulged in pride, malice and revenge," pursued his
his Eminence. The provoking confessor assented, with-
out one pitying word of doubt or protest. "Why, you fool,"
at last said tho exasperated cardinal, "you don't imagine I
mean all this to the letter '?" "Ho, ho!" said the monk,
"so yon have been a liar too, have you ?"

CONFESSION AND FOROIVENE88.

281

:o ad-
law ;

n lias
L-ancoH

ill, ami

insin-
md al-

ition (tf
incr of
rococds
.csiro to
110 iiioii
hcav-
L" lives,
rtion as
lion i'or
of tlio
1 ^vcl•G
om tlio
lonstcrs
of siii-
mouk.
irclinal.
liavo
nctl liis
wltli-
lufool,"
luagiuo 1
monk,

Now in oppowition to ftll fluch confession, ih% atrioken
ftnd convicted dinner liumldy, frankly, and lionestly ao-
knowledgcH hia Hiii in all its entirety and liideousnoss —
with no oxtrniiution or palliation, and with no fooling that
there is aujiht meritorious in the act. It is vain for man
to throw lif»ht upon the motives that prompt men to sin —
vain to practice deceit, in the pre'=(onco of his Maker. Con-
fffifl or be silent, we cannot liide iniquity from the all-
seeing God. He Roarchos and knows us. Ho knows onr
downsitting and uprising. lie is acquainted with all our
ways. Thero is not a word in our tongue, but he knows
altogether.

2iid. — Truo confession implies a sense of the heinous-
ness of sin. What sin really is, but few realize. Hence
the false views prevalent, and the distinctions made be-
tween sins groat and small, and the corresponding amount
of guilt anufxed to certain sins. Men measure their sins
by human Ktimdards —they look at them only in tho light
of consequ^^ncos, and the efT' cts that are lik'ly to follow.
And whore no higher standard exists, the feeling pridom-
iuates, that what constitutes sin is after nil but a ra^itter
of opinion, and that thero is no roil guilt where sin is
committed soerotly or with impunity. According to such
a theory, it is tho disoovt>ry and punishment of sin— tho
shamo thai follows exposure— and f«uch minor consider-
ations, that constitut-i crinio ; — not the fart that sin is
sin, independent of all consequences, not by tho fluctuat-
ing opinion of man, but by t.'O holy and unerring decree
of God.

Such was tho estimate of sin hold by David. He made
confession to him against whom tho sin was committed ; —
not to man, nor at the bar of a human tribunal, but in tha

282

CONKESRION AND FORGIVKNKRS.

ear of tbo Almi;,'hty. All fliii is committed npfainst God,
and to liim all confession that looks for pardon must be
mado. Tliero may be circumstancos when it is ri;^'bt and
proper to confess sin to an offended brotiier, and regain
his friendship. Uiit forgiveness of sin remains only with
God. The man who is taught that a priest can forgivo
Hin, and that the moment it is coufeiised or forgiven, ho
has acquired a license to repeat or indulge in greater nin,
Hoon comes to regard Bin as venial and unimportant. It
Ih a notorious fact that the bulk of our public crimes aro
committed by the members of a church, who beliovo in
priestly absolution. The confessional has not one redeem-
ing trait. Its cITocts upon the hearts and conscience are
debasing. It is false in every particular. It gives to
man the prerogative of God, and lays the basis for the
violation of all law, human and divine.

' 1'

1. '■!

1 1 ,;

8rd. — True confession of sin implies sorrow for tJio past
and resolutions for the future. It is predicted of the in-
bringing of the Jews, that when the spirit of grace and
supplication is poured out upon the ho use of David, and
the inhabitauts of Jerusalem, thoy shall look upon him
whom they have pierced, ajid mourn for hira as one
mourneth for his onlv eon, find shall bo in bitteruoss for
him, as one that is in bitterness for his first born. It ii
tbo sight of a wounded Saviour that produces this genuine
sorrow, and gives a sense of the awful evil of sin. It is
then that we undirstand soniotlung of its guilt and effects,
when wo behold the Incaruato S^n of (iod, offering up his
life to avert diviuo vengeance. Nor will such sorrow be
fitful or short lived. It will remain long after (he sin has
heen forgiven, — for the consciousness of committed sin is
not incompatible with a souse of pardon. Tlie Apostle

rONFE88ION AND F()R(.IVKNKS^^.

288

b God,

inst be
;ht and

Iv with

foiRivo

von, ho

itor bin,

Rllt. It

mos aro
)Uovo m
rodeem-
icncG are
gives to
for the

tlio past
f tlio ir»-
raco and
ivid, and
pon him
as one
ruosB for
It ia
s genuine
in. It is
u\ effects,
m;^' up his
;on'C)W b«
u' f,in has
cil sin is
Apostle

Paul to his dyinp day mntirned his suu, and looked back
with pain and smcoro regret on his early unbelief andper-
Bfccution, and vet lie was well assured thai all his sin had
been pardoned, and his guilt washed away iu the fountain
of Christ's blood.

There is no didlculty whate\er in understanding whe-
ther a mans sorrow for sin is genuine or superficial. Mere
regret is not true sorrow. Tears, bitter accusations, frenzy
— all do not iu themselves constitute true sorrow. The
question is, what reformation of life follows '? — what efforts
aro made to avoid sin iu the future and lead a holier life ?
The great error that menmakc, is innuagining that mom-
entary sorrow., iu some way atones for sin, and that just
in proportion as the remorse is poignant, pardon is certain
and complete. There never was a greater mistake.
Confession of sin is tlio effect of God's mercy to the sinner,
and not the procuring cause. The promise of pardon to
guilty man was mado iu the councils of eternity, and the
knowledge of this fact brought liome to the heart with
power, revealing the intinito grace and cunn)assi()n of (lod,
calls forth genuine confession and sorrow for sin. it is
doubtless true, that confession obtains mercy and must be
mado before pardon is experienced, but it is nono the less
true, that it is God's willingness to pardon, that opens the
licart to confession, and makes it overflow with genuine
ponitonco for sin. Tho sorrow of the simier has nothing
to do with tho provision of mercy. That is divine — eter-
nal ; the purpose of tho Father and the work of Christ.
Our sorrow is the evidence of right apprehension of sin,
but not the procuring cause of pardon.

"Could my zoal no rtspitc know,
Could uiy tears for cvt r tlow ;
All for siu could not atone,
Thou must .save and Thou alone."

Mr^

284

CONFKSSION AND FORGIVENESS.

I n

PI t

. s

Mrtuy a man feayn : " I am sorry for my Bin. I hare
spent whole nights weeping for its cou sequences. I des-
pise myself as the vilest of the vile. I often wish that I
had never been born, or that I were dead." Buch lan-
guage is evidence that sin Las never yet appeared in its
true proportions to the mind. But when a man says : "1
have sinned against conscience — against God's spirit —
Against warnings and special providences ; in the face of
love and entreaty and expostulation ; against privileges
and means of grace and glorious opportunities; — I know
that these sins have provoked God to anger, but neverthe-
less I trust implicitly in His infinite mercy, and resolve by
his grace to begin a ne*w and better life," — in such lan-
guage there is good grounds for believing that a new
power has taken possession of the heart, and new prin-
ciples the guidance of the life.

Let me now speak briefly of the danger of concealing
sin. In three ways men attempt to cover over their iniq-
uity ; — from themselves, from their fellow men, and from
the Almighty. The murderer hides the body of his vic-
tim in the earth or buries it mi the sea or burns it to ashes
in the flames, and yet how seldom does his best efforts ob-
literate all traces of the bloody deed. And m what we
call minor pins, what hypocrisy and deceit and strategy
do men indulge in, to conceal their real character and ac-
tions from the world ? But even when this is successfully
accomplished, the knowledge of sins still remain upon the
conscience. It is far harder to conceal wrongdoing from
our own consciousness than from the knowledge of our
neighbour. Unless the better impulses of our nature are
completely stifled and overcome, there will be occasional
rebukes. Bin cannot so easily be erased from the con-

CONFESSION AND FORGIVENESS.

285

science, as it can be from the memory and judgment of
our fellowmen. When men however succeed in lesseuiDg
the evil of sin in their own estimate, they endeavour to
hide it from God. They seem to imagine thatthe reason-
ing indulged in, to make themselves believe that evil is
good and good evil, will sutisfy the Almighty, and that the
arguments and sophistries, which pacify conscience when
wrong has been committed, will influence his judgment
and mitigate their condemnation. The sinful thoughts
and unjust actions ; the hasty words of daily conduct ; the
secret iniquities perpetrated under the cloud of night and
in the chambers of darkness, tliey must believe are all
well known to God, and remembered by him far better
than by themselves. But the grosser aggravations of
these sins, and the special circumstances which intensify
their guilt, they attempt to cover over with a specious wob
of falsehood and deceit. The special pleading that men
engage in before their Maker, is far more shocking to the
moral sense, than all the fallacious appeals and palliations
that are heard in our commcj courts of law, whore men
so often attempt to make the worse appear the better part.

To every wrongdoer pardon is freely offered on condition
of full confession and penitence. "If any one say, I have
sinned and perverted that which was right, nud it profited
me not ; he will deliver his soul from going down into the
pit; and his life shall see the light." "Ho that covereth
his sins shall not prosper, but whoso confesseth and for-
sakeththem shaU have mercy." "Acknowledge thine in-
iquity that thou hast transo;ressed against the Lord thy
God. And I will not cause auger to fall upon you, for I
am merciful and will not keep auger for ever." TheLor.l
is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and plenteous in

Sil ■

iif i;

mi „

286

CONFESSION AND FORGIVENESS.

mercy. He will not always cliitlo ; neither will lie keep
his anger for ever. For as the heaven is high ahove the
earth, so grout is his mercy toward tliein that fear him."
Does anyone say, notwithstanding feuch plain declarations
of forgiveness ; — "My sins are so great and so anrgravated
that I cannot hope for pardon ?" We answer, if you are
sincere in the estnnato you make of your sins, you have
the very best grounds for pardon. Do you imagine that
God is ignorant of your transgressions, and that when his
Son undertook the work of redemption, he underrated the
task, and has still no adequate conception of your prone-
toevil? Ah, my hearers, the revealed guilt of a universe
of fallen beings, stands continually unveiled in all its hor-
ror before his omniscient eye ! Is it not worth while to
test the faithfulness of God's promise of forgiveness, and
bending before the footstool of mercy unburden your heart ?
For years you have vainly endeavoured to ajipease the ac-
cusations of your better nature by hollow and worthless
excuses, which bring no permanent relief to the guilty con-
science. Why not now accept the offer of pardon — full,
free, instantaneous ; a pardon that not only blots out all
remembrance of the i)ast, but ensures grace and strength
for the future ? Let your resolution be : —

"I'll go to Jesus, though my sin,
High as a nioniitiiiii rose ;
rrjstnitel'll lie before his tlirouo,
Aiul tliero my guilt confess.
I'll tell hii 1 I'm 11 wretcli uiulune.
Without his sovereign grace !"

Thus to acknowledge our sins, is to overcome and for-
sake them. No man can seriously set his sins and short
comings in order before the bar of conscience, without the
feeling of shame. Great as may be our temptations to sin,

{

CONFESSION AND FORGIVENESS.

287

the

id for-

short

)ut the

to sm,

in many cases there is no occasion, save in the utter cor-
ruption of our nature. A review of our hfo in this res-
pect is hopeful, if it do nothing more than sliow us how
helpless we are, and how little of what mr-n call " man-
hood" is to he found in the noblest of our race. A full
and candid confession of sin, includes the secret motives
and springs of action. We need from time to time a ran-
sackiug and ventilating of the hidden corners of the heart,
that sins whicn escape the ordinary scrutiny of the life,
may be discovered. In the constant business of the world,
there is danger of allowing customs, which are in their
very nature sinful and nnmoral, to grow upon us, until at
last their power is irresistible. The habit of introspection
however — a looking narrowly within, with the determin-
ation to expose at all costs, the defections and defalcations
of the moral sense, will prevent the growth of evil prin-
ciples. And as it is easier to put tlie finger upon the
short comings of a day than a month, so will it be easier
to acknowledge and seek pardon for our sins, as they ap-
pear from day to day. A man who so acts, will not re-
quire the spur of threatened judgment, or the terrors of a
death bed, to draw forth a reluctant confession. A part
of his religious life will be devoted to a faithful acknow-
ledgment of sin before a holy but merciful God.

Nay, were there no promise of pardon, is it not a relief
to the burdened soul to throw ofi" its accumuhitcd load of
guilt? The greatest criminnl, wiien Ji-; has confessed his
sins to a fellow mortal and acknowle.lged the justice of
the punishment awarded him, feels happier in his mind,
and is regarded more favourably by society, against whom
h(^ lias offended. Whatever impedes the frei' action of
our moral powers ; — whatever hinders cDmmunion with

288

CONFESSION AND FORGIVENESS.

i\ i

heaven ; — whatever steps in between the sinner and his
Maker, — must necessarily produce misery and mental tor-
ture. Every sin has such an effect. Unconfessed and
unforgiven, it is a burden, which the very angels would
tremble to bear !

How foolish for men to fondle and indulge in sins, that
must assuredly bring upon them unmitigated and unend-
ing woe ! How infatuated, thus to attempt concealment
from Him whose eyes are as a flame of fire !— and how
ungrateful to that God who has made provision for re-
demption, in the person of his son! ''Thibkest thou,
man, that thou shfilt escape the judgment of God ?or des-
pisest thou the riches of his goodness and forbearance and
long suifering ; not knowi; that the goodness of God
leadeth thee to repentance ?" "Come now and let r.3 rea-
son together, saith the Lord ; Though your sins be as
scarlet, they shall be white as snow ; though they be red
like crimson, they shall bo as wool." Notwithstanding
past provocations and unbelief, he wails to bo gracious,
and accomodates himself to human weakness. State your
case, sinner, make the best possible defence. He will
not chide you for youruujust suspicions, and ungenerous
refusal of his overtures of reconciliation. If you will but
accept of pardon, all the past shall beblottod out!

i i

and his
intal tor-
ised and
Is would

ns, that
unend-
jealment
,nd how
I for re-
thou,
? or des-
mce and
of God
r,3 rea-
8 be as
be red
standing
gracious,
a,te your
He will
jenerous
will but

JPS